HANDBOUND

AT THE

DIVERSITY OF TORONTO

w

THE MONIST

QUARTERLY MAGAZINE

VOL. III.

CHICAGO:

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING CO. 1892-1853

B \

COPYRIGHT, 1893,

BY

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING Co.

(

CONTENTS OF VOLUME III.

ARTICLES.

PAGE

Auta, The Doctrine of. By C. Lloyd Morgan 161

Cruelty and Pity in Woman. By Guillaume Ferrero 220

Doctrine of Auta, The. By C. Lloyd Morgan 161

Education, Nationalisation of, and the Universities. By H. von Hoist 493

Evolutionary Love. By Charles S. Peirce 176

Foundations of Theism, The. By E. D. Cope 623

Founder of Tychism, The : His Methods, Philosophy, and Criticisms. Editor. 571

Fourth Dimension, The By Hermann Schubert 402

Hindu Monism. By Richard Garbe 51

Insects, The Nervous Ganglia of. By Alfred Binet 35

Intuition and Reason. By Christine Ladd Franklin 211

Issues of ' ' Synechism, " The. By G. M. McCrie 380

Love, Evolutionary. By Charles S. Peirce 176

Man's Glassy Essence. By Charles S. Peirce i

Meaning and Metaphor. By Lady Victoria Welby 510

Mental Mummies. By Felix L. Oswald 30

Modern Science, Religion and. By F. Jodl 329

Monism, Hindu. By Richard Garbe 51

Nationalisation of Education and the Universities. By H. von Hoist 493

Necessitarians, Reply to the. By Charles S. Peirce 526

Necessity, The Idea of : Its Basis and Its Scope. Editor 68

Necessity, The Superstition of By John Dewey 3^2

Panbiotism, Panpsychism and. Editor 234

Panpsychism and Panbiotism. Editor 234

Reason, Intuition and. By Christine Ladd Franklin 211

Religion and Modern Science. By F. Jodl 329

Religion of Science, The. Editor 352

Renan : A Discourse Given at South Place Chapel, London. By Moncure D.

Conway 201

iv THE MONIST.

PAGE

Reply |o the Necessitarians. By Charles S. Peirce 526

Science, The Religion of. Editor 352

Superstition of Necessity, The. By John Dewey 362

" Synechism," The Issues of. By G. M. McCrie 380

Theism, The Foundations of. By E. D. Cope 623

Thought in America, The Future of. By E. D. Cope 23

Tychism, The Founder of: His Methods, Philosophy, and Criticisms. Editor. 571

Universities, Nationalisation of Education and the. By H. von Hoist 493

Woman, Cruelty and Pity in. By Guillaume Ferrero 220

LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE.

France. By Lucien Arreat in, 258

France, The Religious Outlook in. By Theodore Stanton 450

Germany. By Christian Ufer 264, 640

New French Books. By Lucien Arreat 456

Recent Evolutionary Studies in Germany. By Carus Sterne 97

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

A Letter from Mr. Herbert Spencer 272

Comte and Turgot. By Louis Belrose, Jr 118

Is Monism Arbitrary ? Editor 124

James's Psychology, Observations on Some Points of. By W. L. Worcester 285

Logic as Relation Lore. By F. C. Russell 272

Mathematics a Description of Operations with Pure Forms. Editor 133

Reply to a Critic, A. By Edward T. Dixon 127

Sensation, Prof Ernst Mach's Term 298

Some Remarks Upon Professor James's Discussion of Attention. By Hiram

M. Stanley 122

BOOK REVIEWS.

Ac/it Abhandhingen, Herrn Professor Dr. Karl Ludwig Michelet zum go.

Geburtstag 478

Arreat, Lucien. Psychologic du Peintrc 142

Baets, 1'Abbe Maurice de. L'ecole d' } anthropologie critninelL' 649

Becker, George F. Finite Homogeneous Strain, Flow, and Rupture of

Rocks 480

Berendt, M. and J. Friedlander. Der Pessimismus im LicJite einer Jibheren

Weltauffassung 477

Binet, Alfred. Les Alterations de la Personnalitc 145

Blackwell, Antoinette Brown. The Philosophy of Individuality, or the One

and the Many 649

Cattell, James McKeen, and George Stuart Fullerton. On the Perception

of Small Differences 141

CONTENTS OF VOLUME III. V

PAGE

Delboeuf, J. U Hypnotisrrie devant les Chumbres Legislatives Beiges 318

Dessoir, Max. Ueber den Plautsinn 319

Dixon, Edward T. An Essay on Reasoning 138

Dreher, Eugen. Der Materialistmis, eine Verirrung des menschlichen

Geistes, widerlegt dttrch eine zeitgemdsse Weltanschauung 479

Edinger, L. Vergleichend-entwickehingsgeschicJitliche und anatomische Stu-

dien im Bereiche der Hirnanatomie. j>. Riechapparat und Ammonshorn. 648

Engel, Gustav. Die Philosophie und die sociale Frage 478

Eucken, Rudolf. Die Grundbegriffe der Gegenwart 650

Friedlander, J. and M. Berendt. Der Pessimismus im Lichte einer hoheren

Weltaujfassung 477

Fullerton, George Stuart, and James McKeen Cattel. On the Perception

of Small Differences 141

George, Henry. A Perplexed Philosopher 482

Gutberlet, Constantin. Die Willensfreilieit und Hire Gegtier 646

Hiller, H. Croft. Against Dogma and Free- Will 649

Hirth, Georges. Physiologie de L1 Art 143

Holtzmann, Heinrich Julius. Hand-Commentar zutu neuen Testament.

IV. Evangelium, Brief e und Offenbarung des Johannes 643

Holtzmann, Heinrich Julius. Lehrbuch der historisch-kritischen Einleitung

in das nette Testament 150

Janet, Pierre. Etat mental des kysteriqttes les stigma tes mentaitx 648

Joel, Karl. Der echte und der Xenophontische Sokrates 480

Jones, E. E. Constance. An Introduction to General Logic 314

Lindemann, Ferdinand. Vorlesungen iiber Geometrie 314

Lotze, Hermann. Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion 140

Lubbock, John. The Beatifies of Nature 323

Meynert, Theodore. Sammlung von populdr-wissenschctftlichcn Vortrdgen

iiber den Bau tmd die Leistmigen des Ge kirns 151

Mik, J. Graber's Leitfaden der Zoologie fur die oberen Classen der Mittel-

schttlen 322

Miinsterberg, Hugo. Beitrdge zur experimentellen Psychologic 304

Oelzelt-Newin, Anton. Ueber sittliche Dispositionen 323

Offner, Max. Ueber die Gritndformen der Vorstellungsverbindtmg 479

Paszkowski, Wilhelm. Wie steht es jetzt mit der Philosophie, tmd was

haben wir von ihr zti hoffen ? 478

Paulsen, Friedrich. Einleitung in die Philosophie 466

Rolfes, Eugen. Die Aristotelische Auffassung vom Verhdltnisse Gottes zur

Welt und zum Menschen 311

Royce, Josiah. The Spirit of Modern Philosophy 306

Royer, Clemence. Recherches d' optique physiologique et physique 320

vi THE MONIST.

PAGE

Salter, William M. First Steps in Philosophy 470

Schellwien, Robert. Max S 'timer und FriedricJi Nietzsche 311

Schmidt, Johannes. Die Urheimath der Indogermanen und das europdische

ZaJilsystem 149

Schmidkunz, Hans. Der Hypnotismus in geineinjasslicher Darstellung. . . 317

Sharp, Frank Chapman. The Esthetic Element in Morality 650

Sidgwick, Alfred. Distinction and the Criticism of Beliefs 312

Spencer, Herbert. Social Statics and Justice 136

Sterne, Carus. Natur und Kunst 323

Topinard, Paul. L1 Homme dans la Nature 146

Topinard, Paul. L1 Anthropologie du Bengale 322

Tufts, James Hayden. The Sotirces of Development of Kant 's Teleology.. 312

Verworn, Max. Die Beivegung der lebendigen Substanz 321

Williams, C. M. A Review of the Systems of Ethics Founded on the Theory

of Evolution 474

Wundt, Wilhelm. Vorlesungen iiber die Mensclien- und Thierseele 300

Wundt, Wilhelm. Hypnotismus und Suggestion 315

Wundt, Wilhelm. Grundziige der physiologischen Psychologie 648

PERIODICALS 153-160 ; 325-328 ; 488-492 ; 651-658.

APPENDIX.

Plates belonging to the article " The Nervous Ganglia of Insects." (In No. i of this volume.)

VOL. 3. No. 4. JULY, 1893.

THE MONIST

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE.

Editor: DR. PAUL CARUS. Associates:

CONTENTS:

NATIONALISATION OF EDUCATION AND THE UNIVERSITIES. PAGE

H. VON HOLST - 493

MEANING AND METAPHOR.

LADY VICTORIA WELBY 510

REPLY TO THE NECESSITARIANS. Rejoinder to Dr. Carus.

CHARLES S. PEIRCE . 526

THE FOUNDER OF TYCHISM, His METHODS, PHILOSOPHY, AND CRITICISMS. In Reply to Mr. Charles S. Peirce.

EDITOR - 571

THE FOUNDATIONS OF THEISM.

PROF. E. D. COPE - - 623

LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE.

Germany. Christian Ufer ------- 640

BOOK REVIEWS - - 643

Hand-Commentar zum neuen Testament, iv. Evangeliuin, Briefe und Offenbarung des Johannes. By H. J. Holtzman-n, p. 643.— Die Willensfreiheit und ihre Gegner. By Dr. Const, tntin Gutberlet, p. 646. — Grundziige der physiologischen Psychologic. By Wilhelm IVundt, p. 648.— Vergleichend-entwickelungsgeschichtliche und anato- mische Studien im Bereiche der Hirnanatomie. 3. Riechapparat und Ammonshorn. By Dr. L. Edinger, p 648.— Etat mental des hysteriques les stigmates mentaux. By

Pierre Janet, p. 648. — L'e'ole d'anthro lologie criminelle. By F Abbe Maurice ae

t Hiller, By ntoi p. 649.— Die Grundbegriffe der Gegenwart. By Prof. Kudoff Eucken, p. 650.— The

, . .

Baets, p. 649.— Against Dogma and Free-Will. By H Croft Hiller, p. 649.— The Phi-

Br

losophy of Individuality, or the One and the Many. By Antoinette Brown Blackivell, p. 649.— Die Grundbegriffe der Gegenwart. By Prof. Kudoff Eucken, p. Esthetic Element in Motality. By Frank Chapman Sharf, PA. D., p. 650.

PERIODICALS ......... 651

Zeitschrift lur Psychologic und Physiologic der Sinnesorgane, p. 651.— Vierteljahrs- schrift l'iir wissenschaftliche Philosophic, p 656. — The American Journal of Psvchol- ogy, p. 657. — The Philosophical Review, p. 657. — Revue Philos <phique. p. 657 —Re- vue de Metaphysique et de Morale, p. 657— Philosophisches JaLrbuch, p. 658.

CHICAGO :

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY.

i893.

COPYRIGHT BY

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING Co. 1893.

VOL. III. OCTOBER, 1892. No. i

THE MONIST.

MAN'S GLASSY ESSENCE.

IN The Monistior January, 1891, I tried to show what conceptions ought to form the brick and mortar of a philosophical system. Chief among these was that of absolute chance for which I argued again in last April's number.* In July, I applied another fundamen- tal idea, that of continuity, to the law of mind. Next in order, I have to elucidate, from the point of view chosen, the relation between the psychical and physical aspects of a substance.

The first step towards this ought, I think, to be the framing of a molecular theory of protoplasm. But before doing that, it seems indispensable to glance at the constitution of matter, in general. We shall, thus, unavoidably make a long detour ; but, after all, our pains will not be wasted, for the problems of the papers that are to follow in the series will call for the consideration of the same question.

All physicists are rightly agreed the evidence is overwhelming which shows all sensible matter is composed of molecules in swift motion and exerting enormous mutual attractions, and perhaps repul- sions, too. Even Sir William Thomson, Lord Kelvin, who wishes to explode action at a distance and return to the doctrine of a ple- num, not only speaks of molecules, but undertakes to assign definite

* I am rejoiced to find, since my last paper was printed, that a philosopher as subtle and profound as Dr. Edmund Montgomery has long been arguing for the same element in the universe. Other world-renowned thinkers, as M. Renouvier and M. Delboeuf, appear to share this opinion.

2 THE MONIST.

magnitudes to them. The brilliant Judge Stallo, a man who did not always rightly estimate his own qualities in accepting tasks for him- self, declared war upon the atomic theory in a book well worth care- ful perusal. To the old arguments in favor of atoms which he found in Fechner's monograph, he was able to make replies of consider- able force, though they were not sufficient to destroy those argu- ments. But against modern proofs he made no headway at all. These set out from the mechanical theory of heat. Rumford's ex- periments showed that heat is not a substance. Joule demonstrated that it was a form of energy. The heating of gases under constant volume, and other facts instanced by Rankine, proved that it could not be an energy of strain. This drove physicists to the conclu- sion that it was a mode of motion. Then it was remembered that John Bernoulli had shown that the pressure of gases could be ac- counted for by assuming their molecules to be moving uniformly in rectilinear paths. The same hypothesis was now seen to account for Avogadro's law, that in equal volumes of different kinds of gases exposed to the same pressure and temperature are contained equal numbers of molecules. Shortly after, it was found to account for the laws of diffusion and viscosity of gases, and for the numerical relation between these properties. Finally, Crookes's radiometer furnished the last link in the strongest chain of evidence which sup- ports any physical hypothesis.

Such being the constitution of gases, liquids must clearly be bodies in which the molecules wander in curvilinear paths, while in solids they move in orbits or quasi-orbits. (See my definition solid II, i, in the "Century Dictionary.")

We see that the resistance to compression and to interpenetra- tion between sensible bodies is, by one of the prime propositions of the molecular theory, due in large measure to the kinetical energy of the particles, which must be supposed to be quite remote from one another, on the average, even in solids. This resistance is no doubt influenced by finite attractions and repulsions between the molecules. All the impenetrability of bodies which we can observe is, therefore, a limited impenetrability due to kinetic and positional energy. This being the case, we have no logical right to suppose

If A1C*S GLASSY ESSENCE. 3

that absolute impenetrability, or the exclusive occupancy of space, belongs to molecules or to atoms. It is an unwarranted hypothesis, not a vera causa.* Unless we are to give up the theory of energy, finite positional attractions and repulsions between molecules must be admitted. Absolute impenetrability would amount to an infinite repulsion at a certain distance. No analogy of known phenomena exists to excuse such a wanton violation of the principle of continu- ity as such a hypothesis is. In short, we are logically bound to adopt the Boscovichian idea that an atom is simply a distribution of component potential energy throughout space, (this distribution being absolutely rigid,) combined with inertia. The potential en- ergy belongs to two molecules, and is to be conceived as different between molecules A and B from what it is between molecules A and C. The distribution of energy is not necessarily spherical. Nay, a molecule may conceivably have more than one centre ; it may even have a central curve, returning into itself. But I do not think there are any observed facts pointing to such multiple or linear centres. On the other hand, many facts relating to crystals, especially those observed by Voigt,f go to show that the distribution of energy is harmonical but not concentric. We can easily calculate the forces which such atoms must exert upon one another by considering^ that they are equivalent to aggregations of pairs of electrically positive and negative points infinitely near to one another. About such an atom there would be regions of positive and of negative potential, and the number and distribution of such regions would determine the valency of the atom, a number which it is easy to see would in many cases be somewhat indeterminate. I must not dwell further upon this hypothesis, at present. In another paper, its conse- quences will be further considered.

I cannot assume that the students of philosophy who read this magazine are thoroughly versed in modern molecular physics, and

*By a rera causa, in the logic of science, is meant a state of things known to exist in some cases and supposed to exist in other cases, because it would account for observed phenomena.

f Wiedemann, Annalen, 1887-1889.

t See Maxwell on Spherical Harmonics, in his Electricity and Magnetism.

4 THE MONIST.

therefore it is proper to mention that the governing principle in this branch of science is Clausius's law of the virial. I will first state the law, and then explain the peculiar terms of the statement. This statement is that the total kinetic energy of the particles of a system in stationary motion is equal to the total virial. By a system is here meant a number of particles acting upon one another.* Stationary motion is a quasi-orbital motion among a system of particles so that none of them are removed to indefinitely great distances nor acquire indefinitely great velocities. The kinetic energy of a particle is the work which would be required to bring it to rest, independently of any forces which may be acting upon it. The virial of a pair of particles is half the work which the force which actually operates between them would do if, being independent of the distance, it were to bring them together. The equation of the virial is

Here m is the mass of a particle, v its velocity, R is the attraction between two particles, and r is the distance between them. The sign 2 on the left hand side signifies that the values of mv2 are to be summed for all the particles, and 22 on the right hand side signifies that the values of Rr are to be summed for all the pairs of particles. If there is an external pressure P (as from the atmosphere) upon the system, and the volume of vacant space within the bound- ary of that pressure is V, then the virial must be understood as including \PV, so that the equation is

There is strong (if not demonstrative) reason for thinking that the temperature of any body above the absolute zero ( — 273C C.), is pro- portional to the average kinetic energy of its molecules, or say aH,

* The word system has three peculiar meanings in mathematics. (.^.) It means an orderly exposition of the truths of astronomy, and hence a theory of the motions of the stars ; as the Ptolemaic system, the Copernican system. This is much like the sense in which we speak of the Calvinistic system of theology, the Kantian system of philosophy, etc. (B.) It means the aggregate of the planets considered as all moving in somewhat the same way, as the solar system; and hence any aggre- gate of particles moving under mutual forces. (C.) It means a number of forces acting simultaneously upon a number of particles.

MAN S GLASSY ESSENCE. 5

where a is a constant and 0 is the absolute temperature. Hence, we may write the equation

aB = %mv* = %PV+ %2l&

where the heavy lines above the different expressions signify that the average values for single molecules are to be taken. In 1872, a student in the University of Leyden, Van der Waals, propounded in his thesis for the doctorate a specialisation of the equation of the virial which has since attracted great attention. Namely, he writes it

The quantity b is the volume of a molecule, which he supposes to be an impenetrable body, and all the virtue of the equation lies in this term which makes the equation a cubic in V, which is required to account for the shape of certain isothermal curves.* But if the idea of an impenetrable atom is illogical, that of an impenetrable molecule is almost absurd. For the kinetical theory of matter teaches us that a molecule is like a solar system or star-cluster in miniature. Unless we suppose that in all heating of gases and vapors internal work is performed upon the molecules, implying that their atoms are at considerable distances, the whole kinetical theory of gases falls to the ground. As for the term added to P, there is no more than a partial and roughly approximative justifica- tion for it. Namely, let us imagine two spheres described round a particle as their centre, the radius of the larger being so great as to include all the particles whose action upon the centre is sensible, while the radius of the smaller is so large that a good many mole- cules are included within it. The possibility of describing such a sphere as the outer one implies that the attraction of the particles varies at some distances inversely as some higher power of the dis- tance than the cube, or, to speak more clearly, that the attraction multiplied by the cube of the distance diminishes as the distance increases ; for the number of particles at a given distance from any

* But, in fact, an inspection of these curves is sufficient to show that they are of a higher degree than the third. For they have the line F=0, or some line Fa constant for an asymptote, while for small values of /', the values of d*Pj(dV^ are positive.

6 THE MONIST.

one particle is proportionate to the square of that distance and each of these gives a term of the virial which is the product of the attraction into the distance. Consequently unless the attraction multiplied by the cube of the distance diminished so rapidly with the distance as soon to become insensible, no such outer sphere as is supposed could be described. However, ordinary experience shows that such a sphere is possible ; and consequently there must be distances at which the attraction does thus rapidly diminish as the distance increases. The two spheres, then, being so drawn, consider the virial of the central particle due to the particles be- tween them. Let the density of the substance be increased, say, N times. Then, for every term, Rr, of the virial before the con- densation, there will be N terms of the same magnitude after the condensation. Hence, the virial of each particle will be proportional to the density, and the equation of the virial becomes

This omits the virial within the inner sphere, the radius of which is so taken that within that distance the number of particles is not proportional to the number in a large sphere. For Van der Waals this radius is the diameter of his hard molecules, which assumption gives his equation. But it is plain that the attraction between the molecules must to a certain extent modify their distribution, unless some pecular conditions are fulfilled. The equation of Van der Waals can be approximately true therefore only for a gas. In a solid or liquid condition, in which the removal of a small amount of pressure has little effect on the volume, and where consequently the virial must be much greater than PV, the virial must increase with the volume. For suppose we had a substance in a critical condition in which an increase of the volume would diminish the virial more than it would increase \PV. If we were forcibly to diminish the volume of such a substance, when the temperature became equal- ised, the pressure which it could withstand would be less than be- fore, and it would be still further condensed, and this would go on indefinitely until a condition were reached in which an increase of volume would increase f^Fmore than it would decrease the virial.

MAN'S GLASSY ESSEM I .. 7

In the case of solids, at least, P may be zero ; so that the state reached would be one in which the virial increases with the volume, or the attraction between the particles does not increase so fast with a diminution of their distance as it would if the attraction were in- versely as the distance.

Almost contemporaneously with Van der Waals's paper, an- other remarkable thesis for the doctorate was presented at Paris by Amagat. It related to the elasticity and expansion of gases, and to this subject the superb experimenter, its author, has devoted his whole subsequent life. Especially interesting are his observations of the volumes of ethylene and of carbonic acid at temperatures from 20° to 100° and at pressures ranging from an ounce to 5000 pounds to the square inch. As soon as Amagat had obtained these results, he remarked that the "coefficient of expansion at constant volume," as it is absurdly called, that is, the rate of variation of the pressure with the temperature, was very nearly constant for each volume. This accords with the equation of the virial, which gives

dp _ a d^Rr

de~y~ dti

Now, the virial must be nearly independent of the temperature, and therefore the last term almost disappears. The virial would not be quite independent of the temperature, because if the tempera- ture (i. e. the square of the velocity of the molecules) is lowered, and the pressure correspondingly lowered, so as to make the volume the same, the attractions of the molecules will have more time to produce their effects, and consequently, the pairs of molecules the closest together will be held together longer and closer ; so that the virial will generally be increased by a decrease of temperature. Now, Amagat's experiments do show an excessively minute effect of this sort, at least, when the volumes are not too small. However, the observations are well enough satisfied by assuming the "coefficient of expansion at constant volume " to consist wholly of the first term, a/V. Thus, Amagat's experiments enable us to determine the values of a and thence to calculate the virial ; and this we find varies for carbonic acid gas nearly inversely to F°-°. There is, thus, a rough approximation to satisfying Van der Waals's equation. But the

8 THE MONIST.

most interesting result of Amagat's experiments, for our purpose at any rate, is that the quantity a, though nearly constant for any one volume, differs considerably with the volume, nearly doubling when the volume is reduced fivefold. This can only indicate that the mean kinetic energy of a given mass of the gas for a given tempe- rature is greater the more the gas is compressed. But the laws of mechanics appear to enjoin that the mean kinetic energy of a mov- ing particle shall be constant at any given temperature. The only escape from contradiction, then, is to suppose that the mean mass of a moving particle diminishes upon the condensation of the gas. In other words, many of the molecules are dissociated, or broken up into atoms or sub-molecules. The idea that dissociation should be favored by diminishing the volume will be pronounced by physi- cists, at first blush, as contrary to all our experience. But it must be remembered that the circumstances we are speaking of, that of a gas under fifty or more atmospheres pressure, are also unusual. That the "coefficient of expansion under constant volume " when multiplied by the volumes should increase with a decrement of the volume is also quite contrary to ordinary experience ; yet it un- doubtedly takes place in all gases under great pressure. Again, the doctrine of Arrhenius* is now generally accepted, that the mole- cular conductivity of an electrolyte is proportional to the dissocia- tion of ions. Now the molecular conductivity of a fused electrolyte is usually superior to that of a solution. Here is a case, then, in which diminution of volume is accompanied by increased dissociation.

The truth is that several different kinds of dissociation have to be distinguished. In the first place, there is the dissociation of a chemical molecule to form chemical molecules under the regular action of chemical laws. This may be a double decomposition, as when iodhydric acid is dissociated, according to the formula

HI+HI=HH+II',

or, it may be a simple decomposition, as when pentachloride of phosphorus is dissociated according to the formula

pa. = pcf9 + CICL

* Anticipated by Clausius as long ago as 1857 ; and by Williamson in 1851.

MAN'S GLASSY ESSENCK. 9

All these dissociations require, according to the laws of thermo- chemistry, an elevated temperature. In the second place, there is the dissociation of a physically polymerous molecule, that is, of several chemical molecules joined by physical attractions. This I am inclined to suppose is a common concomitant of the heating of solids and liquids ; for in these bodies there is no increase of com- pressibility with the temperature at all comparable with the increase of the expansibility. But, in the third place, there is the dissocia- tion with which we are now concerned, which must be supposed to be a throwing off of unsaturated sub-molecules or atoms from the molecule. The molecule may, as I have said, be roughly likened to a solar system. As such, molecules are able to produce pertur- bations of one another's internal motions ; and in this way a planet, i. e. a sub-molecule, will occasionally get thrown off and wander about by itself, till it finds another unsaturated sub-molecule with which it can unite. Such dissociation by perturbation will natur- ally be favored by the proximity of the molecules to one another.

Let us now pass to the consideration of that special substance, or rather class of substances, whose properties form the chief subject of botany and of zoology, as truly as those of the silicates form the chief subject of mineralogy : I mean the life-slimes, or protoplasm. Let us begin by cataloguing the general characters of these slimes. They one and all exist in two states of aggregation, a solid or nearly solid state and a liquid or nearly liquid state ; but they do not pass from the former to the latter by ordinary fusion. They are readily decomposed by heat, especially in the liquid state ; nor will they bear any considerable degree of cold. All their vital actions take place at temperatures very little below the point of decomposition. This extreme instability is one of numerous facts which demonstrate the chemical complexity of protoplasm. Every chemist will agree that they are far more complicated than the albumens. Now, al- bumen is estimated to contain in each molecule about a thousand atoms ; so that it is natural to suppose that the protoplasms con- tain several thousands. We know that while they are chiefly com- posed of oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen, a large number of other elements enter into living bodies in small proportions ; and

10 THE MONIST.

it is likely that most of these enter into the composition of proto- plasms. Now, since the numbers of chemical varieties increase at an enormous rate with the number of atoms per molecule, so that there are certainly hundreds of thousands of substances whose mole- cules contain twenty atoms or fewer, we may well suppose that the number of protoplasmic substances runs into the billions or trillions. Professor Cayley has given a mathematical theory of "trees," with a view of throwing a light upon such questions ; and in that light the estimate of trillions (in the English sense) seems immoderately moderate. It is true that an opinion has been emitted, and defended among biologists, that there is but one kind of protoplasm ; but the observations of biologists, themselves, have almost exploded that hypothesis, which from a chemical standpoint appears utterly incred- ible The anticipation of the chemist would decidedly be that enough different chemical substances having protoplasmic characters might be formed to account, not only for the differences between nerve- slime and muscle-slime, between whale-slime and lion-slime, but also for those minuter pervasive variations which characterise dif- ferent breeds and single individuals.

Protoplasm, when quiescent, is, broadly speaking, solid ; but when it is disturbed in an appropriate way, or sometimes even spontaneously without external disturbance, it becomes, broadly speaking, liquid. A moner in this state is seen under the microscope to have streams within its matter; a slime-mould slowly ^flows by force of gravity. The liquefaction starts from the point of disturb- ance and spreads through the mass. This spreading, however, is not uniform in all directions ; on the contrary it takes at one time one course, at another another, through the homogeneous mass, in a manner that seems a little mysterious. The cause of disturbance being removed, these motions gradually (with higher kinds of protoplasm, quickly) cease, and the slime returns to its solid condition.

The liquefaction of protoplasm is accompanied by a mechanical phenomenon. Namely, some kinds exhibit a tendency to draw them- selves up into a globular form. This happens particularly with the contents of muscle-cells. The prevalent opinion, founded on some

MAN'S GLASSY ESSENCK. I I

of the most exquisite experimental investigations that the history of science can show, is undoubtedly that the contraction of muscle-cells is due to osmotic pressure ; and it must be allowed that that is a factor in producing the effect. But it does not seem to me that it satisfactorily accounts even for the phenomena of muscular contrac- tion ; and besides, even naked slimes often draw up in the same way. In this case, we seem to recognise an increase of the surface- tension. In some cases, too, the reverse action takes place, extra- ordinary pseudopodia being put forth, as if the surface-tension were diminished in spots. Indeed, such a slime always has a sort of skin, due no doubt to surface-tension, and this seems to give way at the point where a pseudopodium is put forth.

Long-continued or frequently repeated liquefaction of the pro- toplasm results in an obstinate retention of the solid state, which we call fatigue. On the other hand repose in this state, if not too much prolonged, restores the liquefiability. These are both important functions.

The life-slimes have, further, the peculiar property of growing. Crystals also grow ; their growth, however, consists merely in at- tracting matter like their own from the circumambient fluid. To suppose the growth of protoplasm of the same nature, would be to suppose this substance to be spontaneously generated in copious supplies wherever food is in solution. Certainly, it must be granted that protoplasm is but a chemical substance, and that there is no reason why it should not be formed synthetically like any other chemical substance. Indeed, Clifford has clearly shown that we have overwhelming evidence that it is so formed. But to say that such formation is as regular and frequent as the assimilation of food is quite another matter. It is more consonant with the facts of obser- vation to suppose that assimilated protoplasm is formed at the in- stant of assimilation, under the influence of the protoplasm already present. For each slime in its growth preserves its distinctive char- acters with wonderful truth, nerve-slime growing nerve-slime and muscle-slime muscle-slime, lion-slime growing lion-slime, and all the varieties of breeds and even individual characters being preserved in the growth. Now it is too much to suppose there are billions

12 THE MONIST.

of different kinds of protoplasm floating about wherever there is food.

The frequent liquefaction of protoplasm increases its power of assimilating food ; so much so, indeed, that it is questionable whether in the solid form it possesses this power.

The life-slime wastes as well as grows ; and this too takes place chiefly if not exclusively in its liquid phases.

Closely connected with growth is reproduction ; and though in higher forms this is a specialised function, it is universally true that wherever there is protoplasm, there is, will be, or has been a power of reproducing that same kind of protoplasm in a separated organ- ism. Reproduction seems to involve the union of two sexes ; though it is not demonstrable that this is always requisite.

Another physical property of protoplasm is that of taking habits. The course which the spread of liquefaction has taken in the past is rendered thereby more likely to be taken in the future ; although there is no absolute certainty that the same path will be followed again.

Very extraordinary, certainly, are all these properties of proto- plasm ; as extraordinary as indubitable. But the one which has next to be mentioned, while equally undeniable, is infinitely more wonderful. It is that protoplasm feels. We have no direct evidence that this is true of protoplasm universally, and certainly some kinds feel far more than others. But there is a fair analogical inference that all protoplasm feels. It not only feels but exercises all the func- tions of mind.

Such are the properties of protoplasm. The problem is to find a hypothesis of the molecular constitution of this compound which will account for these properties, one and all.

Some of them are obvious results of the excessively complicated constitution of the protoplasm molecule. All very complicated sub- stances are unstable ; and plainly a molecule of several thousand atoms may be separated in many ways into two parts in each of which the polar chemical forces are very nearly saturated. In the solid protoplasm, as in other solids, the molecules must be supposed to be moving as it were in orbits, or, at least, so as not to wander

MAN'S GLASSY ESSENCE. 13

indefinitely. But this solid cannot be melted, for the same reason that starch cannot be melted ; because an amount of heat insufficient to make the entire molecules wander is sufficient -to break them up completely and cause them to form new and simpler molecules. But when one of the molecules is disturbed, even if it be not quite thrown out of its orbit at first, sub-molecules of perhaps several hundred atoms each are thrown off from it. These will soon acquire the same mean kinetic energy as the others, and therefore velocities several times as great. They will naturally begin to wander, and in wandering will perturb a great many other molecules and cause them in their turn to behave like the one originally deranged. So many molecules will thus be broken up, that even those that are in- tact will no longer be restrained within orbits, but will wander about freely. This is the usual condition of a liquid, as modern chemists understand it ; for in all electrolytic liquids there is considerable dissociation.

But this process necessarily chills the substance, not merely on account of the heat of chemical combination, but still more because the number of separate particles being greatly increased, the mean kinetic energy must be less. The substance being a bad conductor, this heat is not at once restored. Now the particles moving more slowly, the attractions between them have time to take effect, and they approach the condition of equilibrium. But their dynamic equilibrium is found in the restoration of the solid condition, which therefore takes place, if the disturbance is not kept up.

When a body is in the solid condition, most of its molecules must be moving at the same rate, or, at least, at certain regular sets of rates ; otherwise the orbital motion would not be preserved. The distances of neighboring molecules must always be kept between a certain maximum and a certain minimum value. But if, without absorption of heat, the body be thrown into a liquid condition, the distances of neighboring molecules will be far more unequally dis- tributed, and an effect upon the virial will result. The chilling of protoplasm upon its liquefaction must also be taken into account. The ordinary effect will no doubt be to increase the cohesion and with that the surface-tension, so that the mass will tend to draw it-

14. THE MONIST.

self up. But in special cases, the virial will be increased so much that the surface-tension will be diminished at points where the tem- perature is first restored. In that case, the outer film will give way and the tension at other places will aid in causing the general fluid to be poured out at those points, forming pseudopodia.

When the protoplasm is in a liquid state, and then only, a solu- tion of food is able to penetrate its mass by diffusion. The proto- plasm is then considerably dissociated ; and so is the food, like all dissolved matter. If then the separated and unsaturated sub-mole- cules of the food happen to be of the same chemical species as sub- molecules of the protoplasm, they may unite with other sub-mole- cules of the protoplasm to form new molecules, in such a fashion that when the solid state is resumed, there may be more molecules of protoplasm than there were at the beginning. It is like the jack- knife whose blade and handle, after having been severally lost and replaced, were found and put together to make a new knife.

We have seen that protoplasm is chilled by liquefaction, and that this brings it back to the solid state, when the heat is recov- ered. This series of operations must be very rapid in the case of nerve-slime and even of muscle-slime, and may account for the un- steady or vibratory character of their action. Of course, if assimi- lation takes place, the heat of combination, which is probably tri- fling, is gained. On the other hand, if work is done, whether by nerve or by muscle, loss of energy must take place. In the case of the muscle, the mode by which the instantaneous part of the fatigue is brought about is easily traced out. If when the muscle contracts it be under stress, it will contract less than it otherwise would do, and there will be a loss of heat. It is like an engine which should work by dissolving salt in water and using the contraction during the solution to lift a weight, the salt being recovered afterwards by distillation. But the major part of fatigue has nothing to do with the correlation of forces. A man must labor hard to do in a quarter of an hour the work which draws from him enough heat to cool his body by a single degree. Meantime, he will be getting heated, he will be pouring out extra products of combustion, perspiration, etc., and he will be driving the blood at an accelerated rate through mi-

MAN S CI.ASSY KSSKNCK. 15

nute tubes at great expense. Yet all this will have little to do with his fatigue. He may sit quietly at his table writing, doing prac- tically no physical work at all, and yet in a few hours be terribly fagged. This seems to be owing to the deranged sub-molecules of the nerve-slime not having had time to settle back into their proper combinations. When such sub-molecules are thrown out, as they must be from time to time, there is so much waste of material.

In order that a sub-molecule of food may be thoroughly and firmly assimilated into a broken molecule of protoplasm, it is ne- cessary not only that it should have precisely the right chemical composition, but also that it should be at precisely the right spot at the right time and should be moving in precisely the right direction with precisely the right velocity. If all these conditions are not ful- filled, it will be more loosely retained than the other parts of the molecule ; and every time it comes round into the situation in which it was drawn in, relatively to the other parts of that molecule and to such others as were near enough to be factors in the action, it will be in special danger of being thrown out again. Thus, when a partial liquefaction of the protoplasm takes place many times to about the same extent, it will, each time, be pretty nearly the same molecules that were last drawn in that are now thrown out. They will be thrown out, too, in about the same way, as to position, direction of motion, and velocity, in which they were drawn in ; and this will be in about the same course that the ones last before them were thrown out. Not exactly, however ; for the very cause of their being thrown off so easily is their not having fulfilled precisely the conditions of stable retention. Thus, the law of habit is accounted for, and with it its peculiar characteristic of not acting with exactitude.

It seems to me that this explanation of habit, aside from the question of its truth or falsity, has a certain value as an addition to our little store of mechanical examples of actions analogous to habit. All the others, so far as I know, are either statical or else involve forces which, taking only the sensible motions into account, violate the law of energy. It is so with the stream that wears its own bed. Here, the sand is carried to its most stable situation and left there. The law of energy forbids this ; for when anything reaches a position

1 6 THE MONIST.

of stable equilibrium, its momentum will be at a maximum, so that it can according to this law only be left at rest in an unstable situa- tion. In all the statical illustrations, too, things are brought into certain states and left there. A garment receives folds and keeps them ; that is, its limit of elasticity is exceeded. This failure to spring back is again an apparent violation of the law of energy ; for the substance will not only not spring back of itself (which might be due to an unstable equilibrium being reached) but will not even do so when an impulse that way is applied to it. Accordingly, Professor James says "the phenomena of habit . . . are due to the plasticity of the . . . materials." Now, plasticity of materials means the having of a low limit of elasticity. (See the " Century Diction- ary," under solid.} But the hypothetical constitution of protoplasm here proposed involves no forces but attractions and repulsions strictly following the law of energy. The action here, that is, the throwing of an atom out of its orbit in a molecule, and the entering of a new atom into nearly, but not quite the same orbit, is somewhat similar to the molecular actions which may be supposed to take place in a solid strained beyond its limit of elasticity. Namely, in that case certain molecules must be thrown out of their orbits, to settle down again shortly after into new orbits. In short, the plastic solid resembles protoplasm in being partially and temporarily liquefied by a slight mechanical force. But the taking of a set by a solid body has but a moderate resemblance to the taking of a habit, inasmuch as the characteristic feature of the latter, its inex- actitude and want of complete determinacy, is not so marked in the former, if it can be said to be present there, at all.

The truth is that though the molecular explanation of habit is pretty vague on the mathematical side, there can be no doubt that systems of atoms having polar forces would act substantially in that manner, and the explanation is even too satisfactory to suit the con- venience of an advocate of tychism. For it may fairly be urged that since the phenomena of habit may thus result from a purely mechanical arrangement, it is unnecessary to suppose that habit- taking is a primordial principle of the universe. But one fact remains unexplained mechanically, which concerns not only the facts

MAN'S GLASSY ESSENCE. If

of habit, but all cases of actions apparently violating the law of energy ; it is that all these phenomena depend upon aggregations of trillions of molecules in one and the same condition and neighbor- hood ; and it is by no means clear how they could have all been brought and left in the same place and state by any conservative forces. But let the mechanical explanation be as perfect as it may, the state of things which it supposes presents evidence of a primor- dial habit-taking tendency. For it shows us like things acting in like ways because they are alike. Now, those who insist on the doctrine of necessity will for the most part insist that the physical world is entirely individual. Yet law involves an element of gener- ality. Now to say that generality is primordial, but generalisation not, is like saying that diversity is primordial but diversification not. It turns logic upside down. At any rate, it is clear that nothing but a principle of habit, itself due to the growth by habit of an infinitesimal chance tendency toward habit-taking, is the only bridge that can span the chasm between the chance-medley of chaos and the cosmos of order and law.

I shall not attempt a molecular explanation of the phenomena of reproduction, because that would require a subsidiary hypothesis, and carry me away from my main object. Such phenomena, uni- versally diffused though they be, appear to depend upon special conditions ; and we do not find that all protoplasm has reproductive powers.

But what is to be said of the property of feeling? If conscious- ness belongs to all protoplasm, by what mechanical constitution is this to be accounted for? The slime is nothing but a chemical com- pound. There is no inherent impossibility in its being formed syn- thetically in the laboratory, out of its chemical elements ; and if it were so made, it would present all the characters of natural proto- plasm. No doubt, then, it would feel. To hesitate to admit this would be puerile and ultra-puerile. By what element of the mole- cular arrangement, then, would that feeling be caused ? This ques- tion cannot be evaded or pooh-poohed. Protoplasm certainly does feel; and unless we are to accept a weak dualism, the property must be shown to arise from some peculiarity of the mechanical sys-

18 THE MONIST.

tern. Yet the attempt to deduce it from the three laws of mechan- ics, applied to never so ingenious a mechanical contrivance, would obviously be futile. It can never be explained, unless we admit that physical events are but degraded or undeveloped forms of psychical events. But once grant that the phenomena of matter are but the result of the sensibly complete sway of habits upon mind, and it only remains to explain why in the protoplasm these habits are to some,slight extent broken up, so that according to the law of mind, in that special clause of it sometimes called the principle of accom- modation,* feeling becomes intensified. Now the manner in which habits generally get broken up is this. Reactions usually termin- ate in the removal of a stimulus ; for the excitation continues as long as the stimulus is present. Accordingly, habits are general ways of behavior which are associated with the removal of stimuli. But when the expected removal of the stimulus fails to occur, the excitation continues and increases, and non-habitual reactions take place ; and these tend to weaken the habit. If, then, we suppose that matter never does obey its ideal laws with absolute precision, but that there are almost insensible fortuitous departures from regu- larity, these will produce, in general, equally minute effects. But protoplasm is in an excessively unstable condition ; and it is the characteristic of unstable equilibrium, that near that point exces- sively minute causes may produce startlingly large effects. Here then, the usual departures from regularity will be followed by others that are very great ; and the large fortuitous departures from law so produced, will tend still further to break up the laws, supposing that these are of the nature of habits. Now, this breaking up of habit and renewed fortuitous spontaneity will, according to the law of mind, be accompanied by an intensification of feeling. The nerve- protoplasm is, without doubt, in the most unstable condition of any kind of matter ; and consequently, there the resulting feeling is the most manifest.

Thus we see that the idealist has no need to dread a mechan-

* " Physiologically, . . . accommodation means the breaking up of a habit. . . . Psychologically, it means reviving consciousness." Baldwin, Psychology, Part III

MAN'S GLASSY ESSENCE. 19

ical theory of life. On the contrary, such a theory, fully developed, is bound to call in a tychistic idealism as its indispensable adjunct. Wherever chance-spontaneity is found, there, in the same proportion, feeling exists. In fact, chance is but the outward aspect of that which within itself is feeling. I long ago showed that real existence, or thing-ness, consists in regularities. So, that primeval chaos in which there was no regularity was mere nothing, from a physical as- pect. Yet it was not a blank zero ; for there was an intensity of consciousness there in comparison with which all that we ever feel is but as the struggling of a molecule or two to throw off a little of the force of law to an endless and innumerable diversity of chance utterly unlimited.

But after some atoms of the protoplasm have thus become par- tially emancipated from law, what happens next to them? To un- derstand this, we have to remember that no mental tendency is so easily strengthened by the action of habit as is the tendency to take habits. Now, in the higher kinds of protoplasm, especially, the atoms in question have not only long belonged to one molecule or another of the particular mass of slime of which they are parts ; but before that, they were constituents of food of a protoplasmic consti- tution. During all this time, they have been liable to lose habits and to recover them again ; so that now, when the stimulus is re- moved, and the foregone habits tend to reassert themselves, they do so in the case of such atoms with great promptness. Indeed, the return is so prompt that there is nothing but the feeling to show conclusively that the bonds of law have ever been relaxed.

In short, diversification is the vestige of chance-spontaneity ; and wherever diversity is increasing, there chance must be opera- tive. On the other hand, wherever uniformity is increasing, habit must be operative. But wherever actions take place under an estab- lished uniformity, there so much feeling as there may be takes the mode of a sense of reaction. That is the manner in which I am led to define the relation between the fundamental elements of con- sciousness and their physical equivalents.

It remains to consider the physical relations of general ideas. It may be well here to reflect that if matter has no existence except

20 THE MONIST.

as a specialisation of mind, it follows that whatever affects matter according to regular laws is itself matter. But all mind is directly or indirectly connected with all matter, and acts in a more or less regular way ; so that all mind more or less partakes of the nature of matter. Hence, it would be a mistake to conceive of the psychical and the physical aspects of matter as two aspects absolutely dis- tinct. Viewing a thing from the outside, considering its relations of action and reaction with other things, it appears as matter. Viewing it from the inside, looking at its immediate character as feeling, it appears as consciousness. These two views are combined when we remember that mechanical laws are nothing but acquired habits, like all the regularities of mind, including the tendency to take habits, itself ; and that this action of habit is nothing but generalisa- tion, and generalisation is nothing but the spreading of feelings. But the question is, how do general ideas appear in the molecular theory of protoplasm ?

The consciousness of a habit involves a general idea. In each action of that habit certain atoms get thrown out of their orbit, and replaced by others. Upon all the different occasions it is different atoms that are thrown off, but they are analogous from a physical point of view, and there is an inward sense of their being analogous. Every time one of the associated feelings recurs, there is a more or less vague sense that there are others, that it has a general charac- ter, and of about what this general character is. We ought not, I think, to hold that in protoplasm habit never acts in any other than the particular way suggested above. On the contrary, if habit be a primary property of mind, it must be equally so of matter, as a kind of mind. We can hardly refuse to admit that wherever chance motions have general characters, there is a tendency for this gener- ality to spread and to perfect itself. In that case, a general idea is a certain modification of consciousness which accompanies any reg- ularity or general relation between chance actions.

The consciousness of a general idea has a certain " unity of the ego," in it, which is identical when it passes from one mind to an- other. It is, therefore, quite analogous to a person ; and, indeed, a person is only a particular kind of general idea. Long ago, in the

MAN'S GLASSY ESSENCE. 21

Journal of Speculative Philosophy (Vol. Ill, p. 156), I pointed out that a person is nothing but a symbol involving a general idea ; but my views were, then, too nominalistic to enable me to see tnat every general idea has the unified living feeling of a person.

All that is necessary, upon this theory, to the existence of a person is that the feelings out of which he is constructed should be in close enough connection to influence one another. Here we can draw a consequence which it may be possible to submit to experi- mental test. Namely, if this be the case, there should be something like personal consciousness in bodies of men who are in intimate and intensely sympathetic communion. It is true that when the generalisation of feeling has been carried so far as to include all within a person, a stopping-place, in a certain sense, has been at- tained ; and further generalisation will have a less lively character. But we must not think it will cease. Esprit de corps, national sen- timent, sym-pathy, are no mere metaphors. None of us can fully realise what the minds of corporations are, any more than one of my brain-cells can know what the whole brain is thinking. But the law of mind clearly points to the existence of such personalities, and there are many ordinary observations which, if they were crit- ically examined and supplemented by special experiments, might, as first appearances promise, give evidence of the influence of such greater persons upon individuals. It is often remarked that on one day half a dozen people, strangers to one another, will take it into their heads to do one and the same strange deed, whether it be a physical experiment, a crime, or an act of virtue. When the thirty thousand young people of the society for Christian Endeavor were in New York, there seemed to me to be some mysterious diffusion of sweetness and light. If such a fact is capable of being made out anywhere, it should be in the church. The Christians have always been ready to risk their lives for the sake of having prayers in com- mon, of getting together and praying simultaneously with great energy, and especially for their common body, for "the whole state of Christ's church militant here in earth," as one of the missals has it. This practice they have been keeping up everywhere, weekly, for many centuries. Surely, a personality ought to have developed

22 THE MONIST.

in that church, in that " bride of Christ," as they call it, or else there is a strange break in the action of mind, and I shall have to acknowledge my views are much mistaken. Would not the societies for psychical research be more likely to break through the clouds, in seeking evidences of such corporate personality, than in seeking evidences of telepathy, which, upon the same theory, should be a far weaker phenomenon ?

C. S. PEIRCE.

THE FUTURE OF THOUGHT IN AMERICA.

HISTORY teaches us the nature of the degenerative and de- structive agencies in national life. These are of various kinds, but they may be generally included under the heads of Physical Vices, Superstitions, arid Selfish Ambitions. These have become possible through excess of emotional, and deficiency of rational states of the mind. When a large part of a population is influenced by emotional rather than by rational modes of thought, unethical conduct has full opportunity, and suffering and destruction are sure to follow. All races and nations are subject to such disorders, if only in some cases during their periods of infancy and of degen- eracy.

The peoples of Europe have difficulties and dangers which are due to their own peculiar situation. The people of North America have to meet certain risks of a somewhat different character, owing to our peculiar position. In Europe we see an accumulation of many races who reached their Ultima Thule at the coast of the At- lantic, and who have had to accommodate themselves to each other as best they could. Speaking different languages and having dif- ferent political organisations, they have consolidated into separate nations. This result has only been reached after many conflicts, and the result has been the combination and absorption of smaller states into greater, such as we find them to-day. This result has not terminated conflicts ; it has reduced their frequency but has in- creased their scope and importance. To-day the antagonisms of these nations impose great burdens upon them, but they are at the same time productive of great good.

24

THE MONIST.

With men as with other animals excellence is the result of use and exercise. With animals this exercise has been compulsory, and has been due largely to the pressure of hunger. Among men intel- lectual and ethical excellence may be due to compulsion, or it may result from the capacity to develop lofty ideals. In the former case man is driven ; in the latter case he is led. Now the organisation of human society is such, that if man will not be led, he is driven. The "mills of the Gods" are ever ready for those who lag behind in the progress of the race. But there are mills and mills, and no mill has yet appeared in human history better calculated to grind out a good grist from an intellectual point of view, than western Eurasia, or Europe. The emulations and antagonisms of so many nations have stimulated men to do their best, and have stimulated governments to aid them in doing it, for several centuries. The result has been modern art, modern science pure and applied, and modern philosophy. To produce all this however, Europe has been under pressure, and the pressure has been in some, if not all of its countries, more or less galling.

The European, in order to escape local tyranny, political, so- cial, or theological, or to better his chances of physical living, has come to America. He has taken possession, and has bettered his condition from a physical point of view, most successfully. The question that interests us now, is whether he has bettered himself in any other way, and whether he is going to continue the mental progress which has so distinguished his history in Europe. Popu- lation is rapidly increasing, and the increasing severity of the "struggle for existence" which will follow, will stimulate men to increased excellence in their methods of obtaining a livelihood, but will it develop the mind in any other direction? We have before us in the case of China, the effect of close industrial competition in a dense population, without corresponding intellectual development. What is the outlook for the American? Will the process of natural selection only, the " devil-take-the-hindmost " doctrine of Darwin, be sufficient to develop the higher mental faculties, or having de- veloped them, to enable them to survive and to become general, or not?

THE FUTURE OF THOUGHT IN AMERICA. 25

In the first place we lack in America the great stimulus to men- tal progress already referred to, international jealousy and emula- tion. In this respect we are situated very much like the Chinese, but if anything less favorably. We practically own the continent. We have no fear of Tartar invasions from the west nor Japanese from the north east. The Canadians are of identical race with our- selves, and are almost certain to become identical in nationality with us. We are accustomed to boast ourselves of this, and to look with great satisfaction on our isolated position among nations. But our self-gratulation must be greatly tempered by the reflection that such isolation is only beneficial so long as we can maintain our ideals without external stimulus. And this is something that few nations have so far been able to accomplish. It is true, however, that the Atlantic ocean is not so wide as it was formerly, and we are truly one of the family of the Indo-European nations. But we will miss the effect of the daily stimulus which they afford each other, and the daily contact which transmits so much from man to man.

What is our present intellectual rank among these nations to- day ; meaning by this our status in actual production of intellectual work, and leaving aside history ? Without any great competence to speak on many branches of such work, I may be not far from correct if I summarise as follows : In music and sculpture unpro- ductive ; in painting and literature (as an art) good, but weak in quantity in comparison with our population. In sciences, feeble in many branches, but very productive in some others. I refer to pure science. In applied science we stand high. In philosophy as a na- tion, weak.

But we ha\e the future before us. If there is a demand for the products of pure thought in this country, the supply will come. Much may be expected of our race. We will hope that the demand will grow, for at present it is not as large as it ought to be. It is of course easy for thought to "run in accustomed channels," and many people there are in this as in all other countries, who believe that sufficient is already known, and that he who would disturb current opinions is a "disturber of the peace." Strange as it may seem, in this comparatively new country we have one special in-

26 THE MONIST.

ducement to this habit of mind. This is to be found in our political system, which requires an unhesitating submission to the will of the majority.

Here is our second danger. We are apt to confuse mental sub- mission with physical submission. Physical submission to the will of the majority is generally necessary for physical reasons, with which we are all familiar. Ballots are simply a peaceful representa- tion of bullets, and we anticipate the submission to the latter by sub- mission to the former. But the mind should be free. Current or popular opinions are not always correct. In fact if they were, re- form or progress would be unnecessary. A proposal for change al- ways begins with a minority, and much time may often elapse be- fore such change becomes acceptable to the majority. Before the majority accepts a new step of progress the progressive idea cannot govern physically. It must be content to be unpopular for a greater or less time. Now the politician naturally dreads unpopularity, for it is political death. And just in proportion as we are politicians do we share in this unfortunate mental attitude. And how many Americans are not politicians ? It is the prevalent ethical disease of Americans. If it becomes general, the progress of this country is ended, and her fate among nations is sealed. Her manhood is gone, and woman may well feel her hand itch to

' ' Defeat their dirty tricks Confound their politics."

The prevalence of the habit of submission to what we know to be wrong in this country is simply detestable. Herbert Spencer has given us some excellent advice on this subject, and we will do well to heed it. The habit extends all the way through political, scien- tific, and domestic economy. The unpopularity of the reformer is expressed in the term "kicker," which is applied to him among the lower classes in this country. As one of its advocates once said to me, it is the "American System," and there was a strong element of truth in his assertion. With such people, criticism is identical with quarrelling, for they cannot conceive of any motive for endeav- oring to reform some abuse or correct some error, but personal

THE FUTURE OF THOUGHT IN AMERICA. 27

rancor. Such an attitude is a sure mark of intellectual mediocrity and ethical incapacity, and it infinitely increases the pains of the re- former, and readily converts him into a martyr. However, there are a good many men left in this country, and there are agencies at work which will probably keep up the supply.

In the absence of compulsion in the form of external or civil wars and other disasters, the churches are doing a good work in keeping ideals before the people, and in inviting corresponding practical life. It is true that their efforts are more or less retarded by the insistence on erroneous and even absurd opinions about some things, but they do infinite service in teaching that "man shall not live by bread alone," nor by the mere display of physical possessions. They teach that there are ideals of truth and beauty better worth living for, and that the mind is the greater part of man. It is the churches which make the majority of scientists and phi- losophers, as they formerly did of painters. Then let the churches flourish. Like the nations of Europe, their emulations and antag- onisms bring out the truth. The Presbyterians have to solve the knotty questions of biblical inspiration and divine order. The Methodists will have to study the nature and value of human emo- tions. The Friends will know what is to be known of immediate divine influence. The Catholics have learned how to restrain in some measure the most thoughtless of mankind. The Unitarians and Ethical Culturists are proving that man may retain and live up to high ideals without much or any theology. So long as there is no philosophy or none to speak of in America, the evolution of thought will come from the conflicts of the theologies ; a peaceful war which is far less wasteful than physical wars. Theology has been generally in Europe the parent of philosophy, and so it will be here. From the various stages and conditions of the agitation will spring science and art. By this method man is led into progress by measures which involve the best attributes of his nature, instead of being driven by appeals to his lower motives, or by physical force. In this progress moral courage is not lost, but it is developed ; and criticism is truth's best weapon, and is not a cause of offense. That this progress in the churches is real, is proven by our Woodrow,

28 THE MONIST.

McQueary, Briggs, and others, and it will go on as long as the love of truth and moral courage exist in those organisations.

It is interesting to remember that this struggle of opinions has passed through the same stages in Europe wherever the love of truth has had an abiding place. This is especially true of Germany, where also philosophy has had so large a development in relatively modern times. But we need something more than opinions to coun- teract the dangers which threaten earnestness of character in this country, which I have pointed out. Active organisations are ne- cessary, which shall resist tendencies to crystallisation from both sides. Non-theological people must be stimulated to maintain eth- ical ideals; and theological people must be restrained from smother- ing them under useless and obstructive dogmas and practices. It is too true that while some theological dogmas include high ethical ideals, other dogmas discredit them by deriving them from incredible sources, and seeking to sustain them by incredible sanctions. Where such dogmas are sincerely held, true thought is suppressed, knowl- edge makes slow progress, and ethical life is more difficult.

As already remarked, we cannot yet claim to be, as a nation, distinguished for profound thinking on the subjects of highest hu- man interest ; nor yet are we the most thoughtless. Ignorance of the possibilities of mind is not so general as in some parts of Europe, but it is greater than in others. Material objects and interests oc- cupy almost as exclusively the minds of the majority of our citizens whom we are accustomed to consider "intelligent," as among the unintelligent. Hence our proneness to boast of our material great- ness, instead of our intellectual conquests. Hence that weakest of all forms of self-praise, the publication of the dimensions of our country and its rapid growth, as though these were indications of our superiority as a people or as a race. This is repeated ad nau- seam, while our real merits, our contributions to the stock of the world's progress in thought, knowledge, and mental power, are passed by in silence. Our newspaper press reflects this state of af- fairs, since they generally think it their best policy to follow rather than lead public opinion. There are, however, noteworthy ex- ceptions to this character of the press both in the east and the west,

THE FUTURE OF THOUGHT IN AMERICA. 29

which we owe to the superiority of the men who edit and direct them.

In the conduct of our schools and of our scientific organisations, we have a corresponding exhibition of mediocrity or worse, with a few noble and distinguished exceptions. A mere interest in educa- tion and research does not confer competency to direct and sustain them ; yet an interest in such matters is generally the only qualifica- tion demanded of the directors of such institutions, provided they understand how to buy, sell, and invest money. It is to be hoped that this state of affairs will some day pass away, and that men who are influential in such matters will some time know enough them- selves to distinguish between the false and the true, and between men of ability ajnd adventurers who are after the money and position with which our institutions of learning and our scientific enterprises can endow them. This reform will progress exactly in proportion as it is understood how much human happiness depends on true re- search and on correct thinking, and how little on revelation and on ancient dogma.

It is not, I repeat, sufficiently understood, how much human conduct depends on correct thinking. How much financial dishon- esty would be averted by a rational thought as to the inevitable consequences ? How much social irregularity would be prevented by a similar treatment of the subject ? How much hatred and waste- ful antagonism would the world lack, if the ordinary conditions of living were understood and acted on ! So the cultivation of the ra- tional mind is of incalculable importance, and if we wish to prosper as a nation we must bend our energies to the pleasant task this problem presents to us. Neglect of our mental powers means de- generacy and decay ; while their cultivation means power and hap- piness. Wealth, except as a means of attaining this end, after phys- ical necessities are supplied, is simply useless.

E. D. COPE.

MENTAL MUMMIES.

IF we should name the most important factor in the changes which have gradually widened the contrast between modern science and the scholasticism of the Middle Ages, we might define it as a " progressive recognition of hereditary influences."

There was a time when each individual of the human race was considered a separate accident, called into existence by an act of unlimited, arbitrary power, and apt to be as suddenly changed, even unto a complete inversion of his former moral being, by a merciful, or revengeful, caprice of the same power.

Biology has since taught us to apply the doctrine of evolution to the problems of our own moral and physical nature, to trace the tendencies of bygone times to their effects in the present age, to consider individuals the outcome of a long series of precedent in- fluences, and to recognise the truth that the length of those influences is proportioned to the persistence of the result.

Intelligent statesmen were the first to appreciate the practical value of those facts. The advisers of Alexander II. did not waste their time in a hopeless attempt to convert the freedom-worshipping natives of the Caucasus into devotees of Muscovite despotism, but at once confronted them with the alternative of exile or death. Our Indian commissioners early realised the impossibility of turning the descendants of a long ancestry of deer-hunters into tillers of the soil, and transferred the survivors of the long race-war to a territory where they could for better or worse, indulge their incurable penchant. The Groot Fontein penitentiary of the Transvaal Republic became the grave of so many Caffirs that the managers at last abandoned the plan of inuring nomads to the restraints of sedentary occupation,

MENTAL M I'M MILS. 31

and saved the lives, if not the souls of their convicts by sending them about in chain-gangs to mend the irrigation ditches of the bor- der settlements.

Hereditary influences cannot be obliterated by force of rhetoric or of government edicts and it would solve many riddles if we would apply that principle to phenomena of ethical and religious evolu- tion. How else shall we explain the fact that in less than sixty years the doctrine of Protestantism spread from central Germany to the highland hamlets of Scotland and Scandinavia, while in Spain, Portugal, and Italy a very decided progress in general intelligence has failed to lead to a similar result? How shall we account for the success of Christian missionaries in Tasmania and Otaheiti and their utter failure in Burmah and Hindostan ? How for the persecution- proof vitality of Judaism, the ready collapse of Mormonism, or the revival of crass mystic delusions in the midst of our realistic civil- isation ?

There is no doubt that the average Spanish sailor, or village- shopkeeper of to-day possesses a larger stock of general information than the average Brunswick school-teacher of the sixteenth century. Yet one of the least learned of those school-teachers could, by instinct, sufficiently appreciate the significance of the Protestant revolt to celebrate its triumph by a big bonfire and what our western friends would call a " grand war-dance," on a height near the little town of Wolfenbiittel. Why does Pedro Gonzales still cross himself at the mention of a heretic, while Peter Jansen would as soon return to the pig-sty hovels of the mediaeval serfs as crawl back under the yoke of Jesuitry? How could the bogs of foggy Ireland and the vegas of sunny Spain nourish equally imperishable roots of a plant that failed to get a firm foothold in the sands of Brandenburgh?

The solution of those enigmas can be found in the circumstance that the doctrine of anti-naturalism had extended its influence to the character of many European nations, and that the character-traits of a race are less amenable to rapid changes than its intellectual standards. On the soul-organism of the Latin races the thousand years influence of monastic tyranny has left traces which the light of science will fail to efface for centuries to come. The propaganda

32 THE MONIST.

of a manlier creed has thus been defeated, not only by their ignor- ance, but by their aversion to mental efforts, by their habitual re- liance on miracles, by their incurable indifference to the claims of truth and the merits of intellectual independence, by their hereditary mistrust in the competence of their natural instinct. To their moral palate a doctrine which nauseates their northern neighbors has be- come a pleasant narcotic ; they have been forced to swallow the opium of pessimism till a craving for the repetition of the mind- enervating dose has become a second nature ; they hug the cross that has proved a symbol of death to their noblest reformers.

Against that influence of perverted instincts the logic of mental revelations avails but little. "Propositions which would appear self-evident to certain mental constitutions," says Dr. Carpenter, " are apt to be very differently received by others, according to their conformity or discordance with that aggregate of preformed opinion which has grown up in the minds of each. For just as we try whether a new piece of furniture which is offered us does or does not fit into a certain recess in our apartment, and accept or decline it accord- ingly, so we try a new proposition which is offered to our mental acceptance. If it either at once fits in or can by argument or dis- cussion be brought to fit in to some recess in our fabrics of thought, we give our assent to it by admitting it to its appropriate place. But if it neither fits in the first instance nor can by any means be brought to fit, the mind automatically rejects it."

It is true that logical demonstrations may become complete enough to defy dissent, but even from facts which force themselves upon the acceptance of every rational human being, different indi- viduals will draw widely different inferences. That the mind of man may become a receptacle for irreconcilable doctrines is strikingly illustrated by the simultaneous acceptance of the Old and New Tes- tament of our heterogeneous scripture, and in the same way obstinate bigots manage to associate scientific truth and dogmatic absurdities. Darwin and Moses may occupy adjoining quarters in the fabric of the same cosmogony ; the rule of three may become a passive con- comitant of Trinitarian dogmas. The torch of truth may be per- mitted to flicker in a secluded recess of souls which refuse it the

MENTAL MUMMIES. 33

privilege of throwing its rays in certain directions. Education may fail to reclaim hereditary bigotry. In the winter of 1559 the rabble of Madrid assembled to witness the death of Don Carlos de Seso, a Spanish nobleman whose ancestors had fought at Granada and Toledo. His brother had been the favorite hunting-companion of Charles V. ; one of his uncles had sacrificed his life in deciding the victory of Pavia ; Don Carlos himself had acquired renown both as a soldier and a scholar, but in the latter capacity he had confessed his sympathy with certain doctrines of Martin Luther, and the Holy Inquisition had sentenced him to anticipate his doom in the flames of the stake. King Philip II. honored the auto da fe with his pres- ence, and frowned in a way which the condemned freethinker mis- took fora disapproval of his sentence. "O King! can you thus witness the torture of your subjects? " exclaimed De Seso. "De- liver us from so cruel a death which even our enemies admit we have not deserved." "I would help carrying faggots to burn my own son," replied the King, "if he had incurred your unspeakable guilt." Yet Philip the Second was one of the best-educated princes of his century. In mathematics, astronomy, ancient and modern languages, geography, and history, he was far better informed than Landgraf Philip of Hessen, who would have risked his own life to save that of a loyal cavalier.

There are mental mummies who cannot be revived by removing their grave-shrouds and clothing them in modern drapery ; the prin- ciple of conservatism has penetrated their very veins and the marrow of their bones. It is by no means unconceivable that a popular leader like Garibaldi or Porfirio Diaz should succeed in persuading a million of his countrymen to renounce the yoke of Rome and build Protestant chapels, but the result would be largely limited to a change of nomenclature. Before long the dissenters would march in procession with a wonder-working tooth of John Wesley or kiss a shred from the petticoat of the Holy Maid of Kent. They would groan at the mention of Rome, but exorcise spooks with the initials of Ulric Zwingli, and abstain from work on the anniversary of every Protestant martyr. They would try to redeem drunkards by sprink- ling them with consecrated water from the holy rivers of Kansas,

34 THE MONIST.

and celebrate Arbor Day only by invoking the spirit of Prof. G. P. Marsh, as a patron-saint of climate-improving forests. Under the stimulus of industrial influences, they might transfer the cross from way-side shrines to telegraph-poles, but they would persist in the worship of sorrow.

The creed which has turned the happiest countries of our globe into a grave of their former prosperity, is a medley of miraculism and anti-naturalism, and the experience of the last century has proved that both can survive the repudiation of Rome and even of Galilee. The mania of renunciation, after the abolishment of monasteries and nunneries, continued its dismal rites in Quaker-garb and Shaker temples of celibacy. The miracle-hunger of millions who have learned to scorn the clumsy tricks of the cowled exorcist, gratifies its appe- tite in the mystic gloom of the dark cabinet. Rustic supernatural- ists, deprived of such luxuries, indemnify themselves by retailing the marvels of the serpent-charm and joint-snake superstition.

A curious psychological problem suggests itself in the question how far the charm of the " sour-grape philosophy" may contribute to the persistence of certain forms of moral nihilism. Condemned criminals almost invariably "renounce the vanities" of a life which the Court of Appeals has refused to save, and in a scaffold -speech, quoted in Galignani's Messenger of May 6th, 1837, the English mur- derer Joseph Greenacre expressed his conviction that his crime had been the means of saving his soul, because "death on the gibbet was one of the surest passports to heaven."

For similar reasons degenerate nations, after realising the doom of their national welfare, are apt to renounce the glory of a forfeited world, and to consider misery, poverty, and shame so many stepping- stones to the bliss of a better life beyond the grave. After habitual sins against the health-laws of nature have avenged themselves in cureless diseases, decrepit bigots may find solace even in that most insane tenet of their dualistic creed which teaches them to despise the body as the enemy of the soul.

A natural effe:t of pessimism may thus, in course of time, be- come one of its perpetuating causes.

FELIX L. OSWALD.

THE NERVOUS GANGLIA OF INSECTS.

A LTHOUGH the internal structure of the brain of insects has J~\ been the object of numerous and important investigations, among which we must place those of Dietl, Flogel, Bellonci, and Viallanes (who have applied the method of sections to the study of this organ), no attention has as yet been paid to the other nerve-centres of insects, and in particular to the ganglia of the ven- tral chain. Writers have contented themselves with describing the external form of these ganglia, and their anatomical relations to the other organic parts ; but nothing has been done to throw light upon their inward structure. All the knowledge which we have on this subject is very meagre and dates far back to the works of the old writers, who, like Newport, had at their disposal no other means of study than the microscopic examination of organs viewed either transparently or in dilacerated preparations. A method so defective could render but incomplete results, and indeed in many cases erro- neous ones.

We have sought to supply this much to be regretted lack of entomological knowledge, by applying to the ventral ganglia of in- sects the admirable method of sectional cutting, which has brought about such marked advances in contemporaneous zoology.

I need hardly insist on the interest of this research. We shall only remark that all anatomical study bears an unfinished aspect, up to the moment at which we grasp the meaning of the organs which we describe ; physiology is a necessary complement of anatomy, it is that which gives to it a meaning. Therefore, when we dissect an

36 THE MONIST.

organ, which, as in the case of an insect's brain, is endowed with the most complex psychical properties of which these animals are capable, we find ourselves in the presence of parts whose functions almost entirely escape us. What is, for example, that peculiar organ to which we have given the name of the " pedunculate " body? Anatomists have described with the greatest care its connections and portrayed its external contour ; but we cannot discover, or even conjecture its uses. It would be necessary to understand the habits of thought and the feelings of an insect, to be able to assign a role to parts so complex and so delicate as those contained within its brain.

The study of the ventral ganglia seems to us to be capable of conducting us to a better result, for in everything that concerns these nerve-masses, physiology is more advanced, and, in all cases, clearer. The ganglia of the thorax, for example, are in the main motory cen- tres ; the principal nerves that are sent out from them are to be found in the wings and in the feet ; the study of the terrestrial, aquatic, and aerial locomotion of insects has already formed the sub- ject of quite a number of important scientific works ; we are now upon well-known ground, and we may hope that it will be possible to establish some connection between the anatomical structure of ventral ganglia and the functions which these ganglia control.

This hope appears to us to be the more legitimate, because we can make use of all the resources of comparative anatomy to work out the problem. If we consider any particular function, for ex- ample, that of flying, we notice that in species \vhich resemble each other this function is exercised under totally different conditions ; the same organ acquires different uses, and these variations become singularly instructive when we can trace their relationship to the particular structure of a nerve-ganglion. Thus, one of the large wings of the dragon-fly, which is almost like a bird in the range and power of its flight, becomes the elytrum of the beetle ; the elytrum is a stiff wing covered by chitinised matter and serving as a protection to a part of the thorax and abdomen. Sometimes the elytrum is used in flying, as in the case of the cockchafer. In other lamellicorn insects, in the Cetonia for instance, the elytrum is not used in flight ; it merely moves aside so as to allow the second pair of wings to un-

THK NERVOUS GANGLIA OF INSECI >. 37

fold. Its role becomes still less active in the golden carabus, in /'/•<>- crnstcs, in Blaps, and many other Coleoptera, whose two elytra are found on one vertical line, and form but one single and immov- able portion ; then the second pair of wings disappear ; from the physiological point of view, the animal becomes apterous. In an- other and different order, the order Diptcra, it is the second pair of wings that undergo an important modification'; they cease to be used in flying, and are transformed into an organ of equipoise : the)' are used for maintaining equilibrium.

All these physiological variations, taking place in the selfsame organ, must in all probability have their counterpart in the internal anatomy of the ganglion that governs the organ, and the compara- tive study of this .ganglion in different species will enable us per- haps to discover the functions of some of its parts. Thus, if we consider by hypothesis, as the nerve-centre of flight, some small lobe which is found occupying this or that place in a thoracic ganglion, the disappearance or modification of this lobe in species not pos- sessing the faculty of flying, might serve to throw additional light upon such an interpretation.

What we have just said with regard to flight is equally appli- cable to terrestrial locomotion, which also represents in itself many varieties. The typal insect possesses three pairs of feet, whence the name of hexapods, but there are particular species which drop a pair of feet, for instance, the Lepidoptera of the genus Vanessa ; in others, the physiological function of the foot varies ; in the case of the carrion-beetle (a necrophagus coleopter) it serves as an instrument of tillage, to dig with ; for the cricket, the third pair of feet are used for the purpose of leaping ; for the Dytiscus, it serves as an oar, and so on. We must also bear in mind the curious fact that there exists in the larvae of certain insects what are called supplementary feet, having only a transient existence and disappearing at maturity ; the caterpillar, the larva of the butterfly, has five pairs of supple- mentary feet. These notable facts demonstrated by comparative anatomy, cannot -fail to furnish us with valuable information con- cerning the functions of the complex organs found in the ganglia of the thorax.

38 THE MOM 1ST.

But this is not all. We have not enumerated all the contribu- tions of comparative anatomy to the problem which we are now about to consider ; we may make use of the method of comparison without bringing the different types into juxtaposition, but by viewing the nervous system of only a single animal in its entirety. We know in fact that the body of an insect is formed by a definite number of segments, all constructed on the same fundamental plan and arranged in a linear series. Each one of these segments is joined to a nerve- ganglion, which is all its own and supplies it with sensibility and motility, the two elementary properties of nervous activity. In the course of development, these ganglia have the power of changing their positions ; and it is not uncommon to find that the greater number of the abdominal ganglia move up into the thorax ; each one, nevertheless, retaining its nerve-relationship to its own seg- ment. Now all the segments of an insect's body are not called upon to play the same role ; a division of labor has been effected among them with regard to the functions which they are found to exercise : as we have already seen, the ganglia of the thorax are essentially centres of locomotion ; in the head, one of the ganglia, the sub- cesophageal, furnishes the nerves of the buccal portions ; the other one, the brain, is connected with particular nerves and becomes the centre of the highest form of psychical activity of which the creature is capable. We have here a number of modifications super- added to the original plan. Yet the original plan should again be met with in the ganglia that have been least differentiated, such as those in the abdominal region ; and the comparison between an ab- dominal and a thoracic ganglion, for instance, is well calculated to show what are the primal and fundamental structures, and what are the secondary ones which have been superadded and have be- come necessary for the execution of the more complex functions. The study of embryonic and larval forms so easily observed in in- sects, will most probably conduct us to the same result. And thus perhaps by continuous efforts, all guided by the same governing idea, we shall ultimately arrive at the analogies that exist between the cerebroid ganglia and the humblest ganglia belonging to the ven-

THE NERVOUS GANGLIA OF INSECTS. 39

tral chain, and thus finally be able to understand the action of the nerve-substance.

The importance of this object, which, be it clearly understood, can never be attained except by the united effort of many workers, is well calculated to command our strenuous exertions and to encour- age us in surmounting the difficulties of a study which' is as yet al- most entirely new.

ii.

We shall restrict ourselves in this article to the consideration of one particular case ; we shall describe a single ganglion of the insect. The type we have chosen, for reasons too lengthy to enumerate, is a Coleopter of the family of Melolonthidce ; the Rhizotrogus solstitialis, a small beetle very commonly found in the southwest of France. We will now proceed to the consideration of the first thoracic gang- lion.

The prothoracic ganglion in the rhizotrogus is joined by very short connective filaments to the second thoracic ganglion, and also to the sub-cesophageal ganglion ; this latter ganglion, we must note en passant, being situated in the thorax. If with a pair of scissors we sever the head of the rhizotrogus, we find that the remainder of the body contains not only the thoracic ganglia, but also the sub- oesophageal ; a peculiarity which, from a physiological point of view, is very interesting.

The ganglion of the pro-thorax, which is greater in width than it is in length, bears a vague resemblance to a cone the base of which is turned towards the sub-oesophageal ganglion, whilst the apex points towards the second ganglion of the thorax. From the lower part spring two large nerves, their starting-point being nearer the ventral than the dorsal surface, a fact clearly comprehended when we find that the fibres of these nerves extend for the most part into the first pair of feet, that is to say, into those organs that lie under- neath the horizontal plane of the ganglion. The connective fila- ments which penetrate the ganglion anteriorly enter it nearer the dorsal surface than the ventral, this last being extremely convex. Dissection throws no additional light upon the anatomy of the gan-

40 THE MONIST.

glion. But by means of a series of sections, we find that it is com- posed of a mass of fibrillar substance which occupies its centre por- tion and of a layer of nerve-cells surrounding the fibrillar substance. This fibrillar mass is, owing to its great volume, far the most im- portant, and constitutes in itself alone about four-fifths of the organ. The fibrillary structure can only be satisfactorily analysed by using on it osmic acid, or other equivalent reagents which dissociate it and admit of its being reduced to a certain number of clearly differen- tiated elements. Whenever osmic acid or a similar reagent has not been employed, or has not sufficiently penetrated the ganglion, owing to the obstacle presented by a thick conjunctival covering or en- velope, the fibrillar substance takes on a homogeneous aspect that effectually renders all analysis of it impossible. Everything depends on the employment of a good method of preparation.

When the ganglion has been properly prepared, we perceive a very material difference in the appearance of the fibrillar substance when we compare the dorsal with the ventral region of the ganglion. We can do this very satisfactorily by a longitudinal section, ex- tending through both regions. In such a section close to the median line but not confounded with it (see Cut 16)* we perceive that the ven- tral region is occupied by a cord or string of substance which owing to the action of the osmic acid has become very black, and which is formed of so dense a tissue, that we can with difficulty separate it into fibres and fibrillae. This cord, which, by reason of its position and shape, I propose naming the ventral column, extends over the ventral surface of the ganglion in a longitudinal direction ; at both its anterior and posterior extremities it is carried on by fibres extending into the ventral columns of the other ganglia, in such a manner that the en- tire series of ganglia are united by one continuous ventral cord.

If we look at a transverse section (see Cut 26), the cord, which is recognised by its dark color and by its position near the ventral surface of the fibrillar substance, will be seen to have the form of two almost perfect circles. The ventral column thus presents a circular section, is duplex and symmetrical : there exist two separate

* For the cuts, see the plates in the Appendix of this number.

THE NERVOUS GANGLIA OF INSECTS. 41

and distinct ventral columns, separate at least for a certain length ; a fact which must be considered in connection with the primitive duality of the ganglion.

In every section where the columns remain distinct from each other, they are separated either by fibres and conjunctival cells, or by nerve-fibres emanating from the cells of the ventral region and proceeding in an upward direction between the two columns. At the other points, the two columns join on the median line. This union is effected in different ways, either by the two columns coming directly together, thus merging into a single mass, or by a commis- sure which describes the arc of a circle underneath the two columns, or else by the inferior ventral lob.ule.

We give the name of inferior ventral lobule to a small lobule of fibrillar substance, situated beneath the ventral column. When looked at in a horizontal section not passing through the median line (see Cut 17), this lobule presents the appearance of a rounded protuberance, breaking the almost rectilinear contour of the ventral column. As this characteristic peculiarity is repeated in the internal structure of all the ganglia, we may use it to ascertain the number of the ganglia, whenever these present the appearance of being fused into one compact mass ; we may see the practical application of this remark by observing the sub-cesophageal ganglion.

In a succession of horizontal sections, the starting point of which is the ventral region, the first mass of fibrillar substance met with by the knife is the inferior ventral lobule, which is formed (see Cut i) by two rounded fasciculi, placed symmetrically on either side of the median line and joined together by a transverse commissure.

In these sections, we also perceive fibres of the crural nerve, which, after having extended over a certain length of the ganglion, penetrate into the substance of the inferior ventral lobule (Cut 2). In transverse sections (Cut 23) we find the two ventral lobules placed beneath the two columns which they help to support, and into which they gradually merge ; and we also perceive the transverse commis- sure which joins the two. We shall call this the transverse commis- sure of the inferior ventral lobule.

Let us now pass on to the examination of the upper surface of

42 THE MONIST.

the ve-ntral column. This surface is covered by a cluster of very fine fibrils rather sparsely disposed ; we can clearly follow their course by means of a longitudinal section (Cut 17); we see them again in a horizontal section (Cut 5). To continue the general description of the ganglion we must now consider the dorsal region. It is, as we have previously stated, occupied by a fibrillar substance not so dense as that which composes the ventral column, and we will give the gen- eral name of dorsal lobe to this region, reserving the name ventral lobe for the region which embraces the ventral column and its adjoin- ing parts. The dorsal lobe presents as its distinctive characteristic the feature that it is crossed longitudinally by a succession of con nective filaments clearly seen in the longitudinal section of Cut 16.

We have already stated that the ventral column receives fibres issuing from the ganglion in front and sends out others to the gang- lia in the rear. We shall call the totality of these fibres the connec- tive ventral filaments, and shall call the totality of those that traverse the dorsal lobe the dorsal connective filaments.

The connective filaments which join the sub-resophageal to the first thoracic ganglion, and which, between these two ganglia, are composed of a dense fasciculus of fibres, distribute these fibres, at the point at which they enter the prothoracic ganglia, in different directions ; one set of fibres proceeds towards the ventral column, these are the ventral connective filaments ; a second set traverses the dorsal lobe, and are the dorsal connective filaments.

Whilst the ventral connective filaments soon merge into the very dense substance of the ventral column, the dorsal connective filaments, on the contrary, remain distinct from the organs which they traverse, and preserve their individuality throughout. They take directions in three different planes (see Cut 16), consequently they can be subdivided into superior, medial, and inferior. dorsal con- nective filaments.

Newport seems to have observed this distinction of fibres ; and he has given the name of sensory column to this first division, and that of motor column to the second. Unfortunately the draw- ings and figures he has published, though schematically correct, are not clear. We do not adopt his terminology, in the first place

THE NERVOUS GANGLIA OF [NSECTS, 43

because he designates the organs after their supposed functions, and we have made it a rule never to use controvertible physiological suppositions to designate anatomical organs ; and besides, though the name of column is applicable to the connective ventral filaments, we cannot apply it to the connective dorsal filaments, which are sub- divided into three pairs of fibrous fasciculi and do not in the least resemble a column.

In the study of Melolontha vulgaris, we have been able to estab- lish in the most absolute manner that there exists a considerable histological difference between the connective filaments of the ven- tral region and those of the dorsal. Though we have not yet noticed this difference in Rhizotrogus in any marked degree, nevertheless it has seemed to us needful to point it out here, because the fact is of such vast importance that it cannot fail to be general. The dorsal connective filaments, whilst they preserve their individuality in their passage across the dorsal lobe of the ganglion, penetrate never- theless into some small masses of dotted substance which are found in the path of their entrance into the ganglion. The mass annexed to the inferior dorsal connective filament, is above all very impor- tant and is directly connected with the ventral column. As the con- nective filaments are in pairs, each of these possesses a distinct mass of fibrillar substance and both the masses attached to the same pair of connective filaments are joined by a commissure.

Let us now say a few words about the nerves which proceed toward the prothoracic ganglion. There exists here but one single pair of nerves, extremely important and very extensive. This is the crural nerve. To this nerve are attached the organs which are superadded to ihe primary structure of the ganglion, such as we have described it, and which in consequence renders the primitive structure more complex. We shall perceive the importance attached to the idea of a superadded organ, when we study the abdominal ganglia, where the organs we are about to describe are either com- pletely wanting or are but imperfectly developed.

If now we examine a transversal section taken a little in front of the place from whence the crural nerves emerge (Cut 19), we shall notice that the central part of the ganglion is occupied by the

44

THE MONIST.

ventral column and the upper part by the dorsal lobe. In addition to this, in the lateral regions of the ganglion we find two important masses of fibrillar substance. At this point these two masses remain •distinct from the parts we have just mentioned, and on the other hand they are in connection with the crural nerves. The latter send a part, and unquestionably the greater part, of their fibres into the lateral lobes. In a section slightly posterior to the preceding one, also trans- versal, a very important change has taken place; the two lateral lob- ules, always connected with the crural nerves, have also established connections with the centre of the ganglion, and in the sections fur- ther on the fusion is complete. As these lateral lobules possess the •characteristics mentioned, only at the point at which the crural nerves emerge, we shall call them the crural lobes. Thus we find in the prothoracic ganglion three principal lobes : (i) the crural lobe, which is double, symmetrical, and lateral, (2) the dorsal lobe, (3) the ventral lobe. These two last, in contradistinction to the crural lobe, will be classed together under the common term central lobe.

And now to finish this summary description of the prothoracic ganglion, we will point out an important disposition of the connec- tive tissue which divides the ganglion into two halves, one anterior, the other posterior. We can easily understand this disposition by looking at a longitudinal section passing exactly through the median line. From the dorsal surface of the ganglion, may be seen descend- ing a bundle of cells and connective fibres, which, in the form of a column, are directed toward the centre of the ganglion ; these •cells and fibres do not meet any important organ on their way, the dorsal connective filaments always taking a lateral course. A fas- ciculus, similarly composed of cells and conjunctival fibres, starting from the ventral surface of the ganglion, appears to meet this con- junctival column (Cut 18). This curious disposition appears to be, as M. Henneguy has ingeniously suggested to me, a trace of the an- terior development of the ganglion which had been formed of two distinct portions that have been naturally welded together along the median line ; the connective fasciculi corresponding to the point where the welding has been incomplete, and representing the sur- vival of a portion of the walls of the two ganglia.

THE NERVOUS GANGLIA OF INSECTS. 45

As the ganglion which we have just described contains some structural difficulties not easy of comprehension, let us proceed with our description under another form, following the order of our illustrations.

Figure i is the first horizontal section, cut through the ventral region of the ganglion ; the knife has here met the lower ventral lobule, which at this point shows itself double ; the two halves being joined by a double transversal commissure. Section 2, made at a point a little higher than the preceding one, shows us at the centre the lower ventral lobule as increased in size ; and in the lateral part of the figure appears a new organ, the crural lobule, which is here en- tirely merged into the lower ventral lobule. The crural lobule is trav- ersed by fibres from the crural nerve, which instead of being entirely lost in its substance, proceed still further, passing into the lower ven- tral lobule. Section 3 merely brings into prominence an important transversal commissure. In Section 4, the inferior ventral lobule is replaced by the ventral column, which appears double, is sym- metrical, and united by a transversal commissure; this commissure being formed of fibrillar substance. The ventral column is closely connected on each side with the crural lobule ; it is besides crossed by the ventral connective fibres, which can be seen emerging from its anterior and posterior extremities. Section 5 allows us to examine thoroughly the disposition of those ventral connective fibres ; we see that while they penetrate the ganglion, they also pass through two symmetrical masses of fibrillar substance ; these two masses, which we name the anterior ventral lobules, are joined together by a trans- versal commissure. After having traversed the anterior ventral lob- ules, to which it appears they give a portion of their fibres, the ventral connective filaments pass through the ganglion in an antero- posterior direction, and we see them penetrating the two posterior ventral lobules. The last named lobules, which remind us by their position and appearance of the anterior lobules, receive in addition fibres issuing from the crural lobules ; but they do not receive them all, because we notice quite a number of these fibres advancing

46 THE M ON I ST.

directly into the second thoracic ganglion. After emerging from the posterior ventral lobules, the ventral connective filaments pass into the second thoracic ganglion, where we see them penetrate into the anterior ventral lobules.

With Figure 6, we leave the ventral lobe of the ganglion and come to the lower portions of the dorsal lobule. The important filaments crossing this section from the front to the back are called lower dorsal connective filaments. We notice as they proceed some small masses of dotted substance, and, in addition to these, dark colored dots which are the result of the knife having cut crosswise through several fascicles of ascending fibres. We shall find out by means of the sections taken from different parts and placed so as to allow of our better observation, what these ascending fibres are. The crural lobule, always exhibits the same characteristics. We have given it a homogeneous aspect in our drawing. As a fact it presents in its sections a vast number of structural details. But these details being very difficult to understand, we prefer not to dwell upon them.

Section 7 passes through the very midst of the lower dorsal con- nective filaments ; these filaments being in two pairs, one external and the other internal. The external pair, situated somewhat lower, has here disappeared, and the inner pair is the only one to be seen. Some transversal fibres, whose direction appears to me difficult to follow, divide the inside dorsal connective filaments at two different points, and assume the figure of a square ; this square has two black dots, produced by the section of the ascending fibres.

A little higher, in Figure 8, the lower connective filaments have disappeared and the fibrillar substance of the ganglion is furrowed by long transversal fibres, of which a part seems to serve the func- tion of joining the two crural lobules, whilst the remainder, pro- ceeding towards the black dots before mentioned, continue their pro- gress with the fasciculi of ascending fibres. These are no other than ascending fibres which, having changed their direction at the plane of the section, proceed almost in a horizontal plane. In Section 9 we follow the course of the medial dorsal connective filaments, sep- arated from the lower connective filaments by the fibres having a

THK NERVOUS GANGLIA OF INSK< I-. 47

transverse direction, seen in Figure 8. The medial dorsal connective filaments are four in number, an outer pair and an inner pair. At the moment when they leave the prothoracic ganglion, they cross a region where the fibrillar substance is both thicker and darker. In Figure 10 the medial connective filaments are on the point of disappearing ; they receive certain fibres coming from the crural lobules, which are now reduced in dimensions. Section n shows us the lower dorsal connective filaments, which are the slenderest of all and of which there are but one pair ; the crural lobule now disappears. In the middle of the figure, we observe a small collection of conjtmc- tival cells which, as we have supposed, indicates the point where in the course of development the two symmetricalportions of the gan- glion have not been perfectly fused together. Finally Section 12 shows two lateral masses of fibrillar substance, separated by a strip of conjunctival membrane.

We will now take up the series of longitudinal sections, the study of which will demand very special attention. We shall there meet again with the organs which we have already examined in the hori- zontal sections ; and we shall perceive that the alterations and mod- ifications presented to us by the difference in our point of observa- tion, bring out very important changes in the appearance of those organs. The sectional method of examination is also one of anal- ysis. In order to reconstruct an organ in its complete form and to conceive of it in space, our mind must bring into a single focus what the sections have represented in a fragmentary manner : we must, in short, substitute synthesis for analysis.

Figure 13 represents the first and exterior longitudinal sec- tion ; it hardly touches the ganglion ; in the front we see the start- ing point of the crural nerve, and also a portion of the periphery of the crural lobule. The crural nerve exhibits several roots, the most important of which occupy the ventral region. Figure 14, though very elementary, brings out many important points ; we see here the crural lobule, which has increased in size and extends from the ventral to the dorsal region ; a fact which has already been indicated in the horizontal sections, the crural lobule having been shown in them at all points. This lobule is almost circular in form.

48 THE M ON 1ST.

Along its ventral region, we perceive some of the fibres of the crural nerve which do not penetrate into the lobule ; these are the ones we met with in the figures 2 and 3 : they are the fibres which pass directly into the lower ventral lobule. With Section 15, we leave the lateral regions of the ganglion and come to the dorsal and ventral regions ; we must notice that the crural lobule is continuous with the central fibrillar mass and has no precise limits. In Section 15 the ventral column appears, reduced in size. In the front of it we ob- serve an incisure through which certain nerve-cells send their pro- longations into the fibrillar substance.

Figure 16 shows us the complete junction of all the connective filaments traversing the ganglion ; first the ventral column, with the connective ventral filaments starting from both its extremities ; and then the three dorsal connective filaments, which preserve their in- dividuality distinct, while they cross the dorsal lobe of the ganglion. The lower dorsal connective filament is distinguished from the others by a small compact mass of fibrillar substance through which it passes. We must note that the fibrillar substance becomes thicker at the point where the whole series of connective filaments enter the ganglion, and the same thing is repeated at the place where they leave the first thoracic ganglion to enter into the second. The ven- tral column is distinguished from the other parts of the ganglion by the dark color which it assumes through the action of the osmic acid ; it presents black granules which, examined with a strong lens, show small fasciculi of fibres running in a parallel direction. The cells which line the lower surface of the ventral column do not throw out any prolongations ; they are exceedingly small, but do not other- wise present any special feature.

Figure 17 is but very slightly different from the preceding one : the ventral column is simply strengthened on its lower surface by the lower ventral lobule. The position of this lobule is interesting to note. We have already mentioned that each ganglion is divided into two halves by a column of conjunctival tissue, one anterior and the other posterior. In Section 17 we see the granulated pro- jection of the ventral portion of this conjunctival column. In order to simplify it we have shown no conjunctival tissue in our illustra-

THE NERVOUS GANGLIA OF INSECTS. 49

tion. We may nevertheless notice, that the nerve-cells at the point marked c. c. seem to separate one from the other, and show a tri- angular space between them, filled with conjunctival cells. If the segment had not been cut so obliquely, (and this obliqueness in the sections is almost unavoidable when dealing with such very small organs,) we should also perceive on the dorsal line of the section the projection of the dorsal part of the conjunctival column ; in fact we shall see this projection in the figure which follows. The presence of the conjunctival column separates, as we have said, each ganglion into two parts, one anterior the other posterior. These portions are not at all symmetrical. We see in Section 17 that the lower ventral lobule is found only in the anterior part. Finally from the ventral column rises an important fasciculus of ascending fibres, which we have already seen in the horizontal diagrams ; it is difficult for us to ascertain what these fibres are. In the i8th and last section we approach nearer the median line. The ventral column at this level has the appearance of being divided into two trunks. The ventral connective filaments are clearly seen upon its upper surface. Among the dorsal connective filaments the middle one alone remains visible and receives a certain number of fibres from the ascending fascicu- lus.

To complete our description let us glance at the series of trans- verse sections. In Figure 19 the two crural lobules have not yet united and are not yet merged into the dorsal-ventral lobe. This junction does not take .place until we come to Figure 20. Here, at this level, we see in addition the circular segment of the two ventral columns, which by their dark color are sharply outlined against the remainder of the fibrillar substance. To the right and left of these two columns we perceive small masses of dotted substance ; we merely call attention to them and shall not describe them. Figure 21 furnishes no noteworthy modifications of the preceding. We simply see a few cells of the periphery sending out their prolonga- tions into the fibrillar substance. The point at which they thus pene- trate it has already been indicated in Figure 15. In Figure 22 we have a section of several dorsal connective filaments ; among others a lower root of the crural nerve is here seen to pass along the ven-

50 THE MONIST.

tral surface of the fibrillar substance without penetrating into the crural lobule. Does there exist an upper root of the same nerve, which follows the upper surface of the dotted substance ? We do not dare to decide the question. One thing is certain, and that is that if the nerve does exist it is accompanied along its path by a great number of widely ramified tracheae, of which we see a drawing in tr. In the three figures which follow (23, 24, 25) the ventral column presents an interesting series of modifications. First of all, in Figure 23, it is surrounded by the lower ventral lobule, of which the two masses are in a lateral position, and whose commissures pass un- derneath the column. We see in the same Figure 23 the two lower roots of the crural nerve, advancing towards the column. In the 24th section the two roots have reached the column, and two other nerves cross the crural lobule ; doubtless their destination is the lower dorsal connective filaments, but of this we have no clear in- dication. In the 24th section two other crural roots also enter the lower ventral lobule. This section is very favorable for the ex- amination of the ascending fasciculus which we have already noticed in the longitudinal sections. It seems to us certain that this fascic- ulus terminates in the middle dorsal connective filament. Its origin is more uncertain. It seems to spring from the ventral column, or else to come from crural roots which, after having traversed the crural lobule, reascend towards the dorsal lobe of the ganglion, de- scribing a curve exteriorily concave. It is possible that this ascend- ing fasciculus has both these origins. The 26th and last section shows us the ventral column on a larger scale ; the two columns being distinct from each other, though united at the lower extremity by a commissure. The ensemble of the figure strikingly reminds one of a section of the abdominal ganglion.

Here our description ends. We have not sought to follow up every fibre in all its details, nor to describe completely the anatomy of each organ. Our intention has merely been to give a synthetic notion of a nervous ganglion. Subsequent studies made on other ganglia will demonstrate the general application of this idea.

ALFRED BINET.

HINDU MONISM.

WHO WERE ITS AUTHORS, PRIESTS OR WARRIORS ?

AdiONG all the forms of government class government is the worst. Carthage was governed by merchants, and the mer- cantile spirit of its policy led finally to the destruction of the city. Sparta was governed by warriors, and in spite of the glory of Ther- mopylae it was doomed to stagnation. India was governed by priests, and the weal of the nation was sacrificed with reckless indifference to their interests. It appears that for the welfare of the community the harmonious co-operation of all classes is not only desirable but also indispensable.

Yet it is often claimed that mankind is greatly indebted to na- tions or states ruled by class government, for having worked out the particular occupation of the ruling class to a perfection which other- wise it would not have reached. This is at least doubtful.

Carthage was eager to establish monopolies, but she contributed little to the higher development of commerce and trade among man- kind.

Sparta raised brave men, but was not progressive, even in the science of war, and was worsted by so weak an adversary as Thebes. Modern strategists could learn something from Epaminondas, but little, if anything, from the Lacedaemonians.

Priestcraft has attained to a power in India unparalleled in the history of other nations, and it is no exaggeration to say that priest- rule was the ruin of the country. Yet the wisdom of the Brahmans has become proverbial. Their philosophy is praised as original and profound, and it is well known that the first monistic world-concep-

52 THE MONIST.

tion was thought out in ancient India. But we shall see later on what the real share of the Brahmans in this great work has been

In the very earliest ages of Hindu antiquity, revealed to us in the songs of the Rig-veda, we meet with priests who claimed the power of making sacrifices to the gods in a manner especially ac- ceptable to them, and who thus rose to great power, influence, and wealth. To this ancient period of Hindu history we can trace the origin of the Hindu castes, essentially a result of priestly egotism, and which up to this day has weighed down the Indian people like a nightmare. The organisation of the priestly class into an exclusive, privileged body, as well as the final development of the castes, did not, however, take place until the time represented by the second pe- riod of the ancient Hindu literature ; by the literature, that is to say, of the Yajur-vedas or the Vedas of the sacrificial formulas, and the Brahmanas and Sutras, both of which describe the sacrificial cere- monies, the former with, the latter without theological comments. The contents of these works illustrate the origin of the Hindu hier- archy and castes; but it is often necessary to read between the lines. The greatest authority on this rich literature, Prof. A. Weber, of Berlin, in the tenth volume of the series " Hindu Studies " which he edits, has published his inquiries concerning this subject in a very learned treatise, entitled "Collectanea tiber die Kastenverhaltnisse in der Brahmana und Sutra," of which I have made considerable use in the following pages.

In these books the Brahmans assert their claims with startling candor. In several passages — to begin with the most striking feat- ure— they announce themselves as real gods wandering on earth. "There are two kinds of gods," it is said, "the true gods and the learned Brahmans, who recite the Veda." "The Brahman repre- sents all gods." " He is the god of gods." This is perhaps the most remarkable instance of priestly arrogance in all history. Thus it cannot at all surprise us that the Brahmans, as earthly gods, placed themselves above king and nobility ; but it appears rather strange that the kings and warriors should have allowed to them the first place in the government. But as a matter of fact, they did do so and were compelled to do so. From mysterious legends in the great

HINDU MONISM. 53

Hindu epic poem we infer, that bloody wars have been waged for supremacy, in which the nobility was defeated.

The legends of this epos are thus important additions to the sources with which we are concerned. This struggle, which the Brahmans in all likelihood caused to be fought out for them by the great masses of the people, has been ascribed to the warriors hav- ing robbed the priests of the treasures which the latter had acquired by the performance of the sacrifices ; and this part of the legend is so highly probable that we cannot treat it as a pure myth, especially if we take into consideration the circumstances of those times. It was the first attempt at secularisation in the history of the world, and the results were very disastrous to those who were then in secular power.

The Brahmans did not establish a social hierarchy or ecclesi- astical ranks, nor did they participate in the government, except that the king was bound to employ a Brahman as Purohita or house- priest, who occupied as such the position of prime minister. If, however, they succeeded in dominating the nobility and the whole people, it was principally on account of their greater knowledge, of which they boasted, and especially on account of the sacrificial arts, by the proper exercise of which in those times, all favors could be obtained from the gods. For a duly performed sacrifice, which would last weeks, months, nay, years, the Brahmans charged of course a high fee. A fee of ten thousand oxen was prescribed for a certain ceremony, a hundred thousand for another one, and a later teacher of ritualism charged 240,000 for the same service. And this was not yet the climax of priestly avarice, which — to use an expres- sion of Professor Weber — indulges in veritable orgies in these books. After one has gone through the endless description of a ceremony, one finds at the end the remark that the whole sacrifice has no effect, unless the proper fee be paid to the priest. And — to use a term of modern life — lest competition should reduce the prices or spoil the business, a rule was established, that no one should take a fee which another one had refused. (Weber, p. 54.)

The sacrificial rituals, so trying and tedious for us, are the only literary production of these dull centuries before the rising of phil-

54

THE MONIST.

osophical speculation, and the great historical importance they pos- sess is simply due to the light they throw on the moral depravity of the Brahmans as a class.

The following fact will fully show to what extent sexual de- baucheries were indulged in. The priest was enjoined, by a special rule, not to commit adultery with the wife of another during a par- ticularly holy ceremony. But he who could not practice continence, was allowed to expiate his sin by an offering of milk to Varuna and Mitra.

Numerous passages in the books on ritualism furnish us inter- esting illustrations of the great indulgence which the Brahmans had for each other's weaknesses. The officiating priest is taught how to proceed during the sacrifice, if he wants to wrong the man who em- ploys and pays him, or how to deviate from the prescribed rules, if he wants to rob his employer of his seeing, hearing, children, property, or position. The lack of confidence that resulted is best illustrated by a ceremony, the introduction of which, at the begin- ning of the sacrifice, became gradually necessary. By a solemn oath the officiating minister and the client bound themselves not to injure each other during the performance of the holy act. Consequently, the strange notions of right, which the Brahmans had in those times, will not surprise us. " Murder of any one but a Brahman is no mur- der." " An arbitrator must decide in favor of the Brahman and not in favor of his opponent, if the latter is not a Brahman." Such max- ims are laid down in the texts with shameless insolence.

It is plain that the caste system greatly contributed to increase the power and influence of the priests, because in a country where the people are divided into classes, the priest always succeeds in inciting at his wish the one against the other.

After the Brahmans came as second caste the Kshattriyas (liter- ally : the ruling class, i. e., king, nobility, soldiers); and as third caste the Vaisyas (the bulk of the people : farmers, merchants, etc.). The conquered non-Aryan aborigines were foreordained by the gods to serve the Aryan castes and especially the Brahmans. They were called Sudras (serfs) and had neither civil nor religious rights. "The Sudra is the servant of others; he can be cast out or killed."

HINDU MONISM. 55

By this humane maxim were the Brahmans guided in their conduct towards the aborigines.

With such a state of things, as it appears in the old books, the priesthood ought to have been well pleased. But the Brahmans were not ; they desired still greater advantages and carried out the caste system to a most absurd extent. The result is embodied in the famous law-book of Manu, the exact date of which we do not yet know, but which must be placed at the beginning of our era. The condition of things of which I shall now speak, was accordingly de- veloped during the last centuries before Christ. Though we may sup- pose that some rules of this code have remained a mere theory and have never been carried out, there remains enough to show the social life of those times in a poor light. Koppen, in the first chapters of his book on Buddhism, has severely but justly judged the social organisation, as it appears in Manu's law-book; but as the age of this code was overrated at his time, he was led to one erroneous conclusion : he attributes the historical process, of which we speak, to the period before Buddha, while it really took place after Buddha. L. von Schroder, in his work "Indian Literature and History," in the twenty-ninth lecture, gives us a good view of those times.

Different passages in Manu's code show us that the claim of the Brahmans to divinity had not decreased in the course of the centuries. "The Brahmans are to be venerated at all times, as they are the highest divinity. " "By his very origin the Brahman is a god, even to the gods."

The many practical privileges they enjoyed were of still greater value. They were exempt from taxation under all circumstances, "even if the king should starve." For the greatest crimes they could not be executed or chastised, nor was their property liable to con- fiscation, while at the same time the criminal law was very harsh towards the other castes and especially towards the Sudras. The penalties increased proportionately : the lower the caste to which the criminal belonged, the higher the punishment ; and the fines also increased in proportion to the rank of the caste to which the injured man belonged. The money-lender was allowed to exact (monthly)

56 THE MONIST.

two per cent, of a Brahman, three of a Kshattriya, four of a Vaisya, five of a Sudra. All these laws show how the Brahmans understood the art of advancing their interests. The Sudra was by the code deprived of all rights. "The Brahman may consider him as a slave and is therefore entitled to take his property, as the property of the slave belongs to the master." "The Sudra shall not acquire wealth, even if he be in a position to do so, as such conduct gives offense to the Brahman."

But all these things are harmless when compared with the prin- ciples by which the Brahmans reduced to the most miserable of lives numberless human creatures who had committed no wrong except that their origin did not agree with the political scheme of the priests. Formerly it had been lawful for the members of the three Aryan castes, after having married a girl of the same caste, to take other wives of a lower caste besides, and no disgrace attached to their children. The son of a Brahman and a Vaisya — or even of a Sudra woman — was therefore a Brahman. But this was no longer the case under the code of Manu.

If the parents belonged to different castes, the children did not follow either father or mother, but they formed a mixed caste and the law distinctly regulates their occupations and trades. This theory gave birth to a great number of mixed castes, who were more or less despised. And the social standing of many of them grew still worse on account of an absurd maxim which degraded the Indian peo- ple to the level of grass and plants. Good seed in a bad soil gives of course a poorer return than in good soil ; still the crop is endurable. But weed introduced into good soil produces weed abundantly. According to this theory of the Brahmans the children were below the father, if he had married a wife of a higher caste. The lowest and most execrable creature therefore is the son of a Sudra and a Brahman woman. The destiny of a Sudra was of course hard and unhappy, but the misery of the offspring of such a marriage, of the Chandala, defies all description. "He shall live far from the abodes of other men and bear signs by which everybody can recognise and avoid him, as his contact pollutes. Only in daytime shall he be ad- mitted into the villages, as then people can avoid him. He shall

HINDU MONISM. 57

possess but common animals like dogs and donkeys, eat out of broken plates, put on the dresses of the dead, etc. They were compelled to serve as executioners. To the utmost degree of contempt and misery has the proud Brahman reduced these poor creatures." (Schroder, pp. 423-424.)

But the Chandala was not the last in the Brahmanic scale, which suppressed all dignity in human nature ; his offspring, though he had only a wife of the Sudra caste, was necessarily still below him. Thus originated a great number of mixed castes, one more despised than the other, and despising one another. Most of these outcasts take their names from the Indian aborigines and are thus placed on the same level with the most contemptible tribes. Some of the things I have cited about the mixed castes, may have been merely a theory of the Brahmans ; however, the actual existence of classes of people reduced by the clergy to a sort of animal life, has been sufficiently verified by foreign travellers.

In modern times the separation of the people has been going on very rapidly ; so much so, that nearly every trade or profession now forms a caste of its own, having no social intercourse with, nor patriotic feelings for the other castes. This condition of things is due to the influence of the Brahmans, for it has grown out of the social order they have founded.

It is not my task to arraign the Brahmans for the sins they have committed ; but simply to illustrate to my readers, how little they cared for and had at heart the interests of their people. One will, upon the whole, feel inclined to denounce the selfishness and im- morality of the Brahmans, but on the other hand will acknowledge with admiration the intellectual work they have done, and forgive them much for the profound thoughts with which they have en- riched their country and the whole world. Is it not the wisdom of the Brahmans that has given to the word India a sound that stirs the hearts of all to whom the struggle for the highest truth appears as the highest phenomenon in the history of civilisation? But sup- pose it can be shown that the greatest of all the wisdom of the Brah- man, the monistic doctrine of the All-in-One, which has had the

58 THE MONIST.

greatest influence on the intellectual life of modern times, was not discovered by them ?

Before I enter on this question, of the greatest importance from an historical point of view, I will give a short sketch of the period of Indian history in which this doctrine was established.

For centuries the Brahmans had heaped sacrifice on sacrifice and multiplied symbolical explanations without end. All this dis- tinctly bore the stamp of priestly sophistry. Suddenly higher thoughts arise. The learning handed down by tradition and the sacrificial system are, it is true, not altogether abandoned ; the mind, however, is no longer satisfied with the mysteries of the sacrifices, but aims at higher and more sublime truth. The age of intellectual darkness is followed by a new era, the characteristic of which is the ambition to solve the problems of life and to understand the relation of the individual to the absolute. All the efforts of the human mind are now bent on solving the question of the eternal Unity, from which all phenomena have emanated and which every one perceives within his own self. It is the age of the Upanishads, those famous books, which, as soon as they were known in Europe, filled all scholars with wild enthusiasm and admiration. I refer only to the old Upanishads, that date from the eighth to the sixth century B. c., not to the great number of books of the same name, but not of the same value — there are over 200 of them — which appeared after the Christian era. The Upanishads reveal the struggle of the mind to reach the highest truth. Though they indulge occasionally in strange speculations, still the idea of Brahma, of the universal soul, of the absolute, of the thing in itself, is the ever-recurring subject of their thoughts, which culminate in the idea that the Atman, the inner self of man, is naught but the eternal and endless Brahma. A wonderful pathos animates the language of the Upanishads and tes- tifies to the sublime feelings in which the thinkers of those times sought the great mystery of existence. They look for all kinds of expressions, metaphors and figures, in order to couch in words what cannot be described by words. We read for instance in the vener- able Brihadaranyaka Upanishad : "That which lives on the earth, but is different from the earth, that which is the moving power of

HINDU MONISM. 59

the earth, that is your Self, the inner immortal ruler." The same is predicated of water, fire, ether, wind, sun, moon, and stars ; and then the chapter ends as follows : " Unseen, he sees ; unheard, he hears ; unminded, he minds ; unknown, he knows. There is none that sees but he; there is none that hears but he; there is none that minds but he; there is none that knows but he. He is thy soul, the inner ruler. Whatever is different from him, is perishable."

In the same celebrated Upanishad appears a woman, named Gargi, and moved by thirst of knowledge she inquires of the wise Yajnavalkya : " That which is beyond the sky and beneath the earth, and between sky and earth, that which is, was, and shall be, in what and with what is it interwoven (that is : in what does it live and move)? " Yajnavalkya, in order to try the intellectual power of the woman, gives an evasive answer : " In the ether." But Gargi, per- ceiving that this answer did not contain the final truth, asks : "In what is the ether woven ? " And Yajnavalkya replied : " O Gargi, that is what the Brahman calls the Eternal ; it is neither big, nor small, nor large, nor short, without connection, without contact ; by the Eternal are ruled heaven and earth, sun and moon, days and nights ; the power of the Eternal directs the rivers south or west or to any other point of the compass. Whoever parts from this world without having understood the Eternal, is miserable."

In the Chandogya Upanishad, a book of no less importance, the same wisdom is taught by a man named Uddalaka to his son Shvetaketu in the form of several parables. We see them standing in front of a Nyagrodha tree, that kind of fig-tree that everywhere sends roots from the branches down to the ground, thus producing new trunks, until in the course of time one tree resembles a green pillared hall. And in front of such a tree, the most beautiful symbol of ever-youthful nature, the following conversation takes place be- tween father and son : " Get me a fruit of this tree." — " Here it is." — "Break it." — "It is broken." — "What do you see in it ?" — "I see quite small kernels." — " Break one of them." — " It is broken. "- "What do you see in it?" — "Nothing." — Then the father said: ' The fine matter that you cannot see has produced this big tree,

6<D THE MONIST.

and believe me, my dear son, this same matter, of which the earth is composed, is the Absolute, the Universal Soul, — it is you."

The eternal ground of all existence which every one carries in himself, Being as it is in itself, and as it is immediately perceived in thinking, was, accordingly recognised as the sole reality, and all the manifold changes of the phenomenal world were called Maya, a sham, a delusion, a mockery of the senses. We see, it is a con- sistent monism which is taught in the Upanishads.

I do not intend here either to criticise the Brahman concep- tion of monism or to contrast it with modern forms of monism. All monisms have at least one thing in common, viz. they all recognise the paramount importance of consistency of thought as a basic prin- ciple in philosophy. And to have propounded a monism for the first time is a feat which cannot be overestimated. What remains of this essay will be devoted to the investigation of the question, whether this feat is duly or unduly credited to the Brahmans.

It may first be mentioned, that a few scholars like Weber, Max Miiller, Regnaud, Deussen, and Bhandarkar, pointed out, a long time ago, certain facts which show that another class of the Hindu nation founded the monistic doctrine of the old Upanishads. But the attention of the great public has never been called to this sub- ject, which deserves to be known by all interested in Indian history.

In the second book of the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, of which I have already cited two passages, is found the following story, of which also the fourth book of Kaushitaki Upanishad gives a slightly different version.

The proud and learned Brahman Balaki Gargya comes on his journey to Ajatashatru, prince of Benares, and says to him : "I will announce you the Brahma." The king, highly pleased, promises him a great reward, a thousand cows. The Brahman begins to ex- pound his wisdom : "The Spirit (that is the power) in the sun I venerate as the Brahma." But the king interrupted him, saying that he knew that already. Then the Brahman speaks about the Spirit in the moon, in lightning, ether, wind, fire, water, but the king knows all that. And whatsoever the Gargya might say, is not new to the king. The Brahman became silent. But Ajatashatru

HINDU MONISM. 6l

asked him : " Is that all ? " and Gargya answered : " Yes, that is all." Then the king said : "Your little knowledge is not the Brahma ;" whereupon Gargya declared that he should like to be one of the king's pupils. Ajatashatru replied: "It is against nature, that a Brahman should learn from a warrior and depend on him for the understanding of the Brahma, but I will show it you nevertheless." The king took him to a sleeping man and spoke to the latter ; but he did not get up. When the king touched him with his hand, he arose. The king then asked the Brahman : "While this man was sleeping where was his mind, and whence did it return now ? " Gargya could not give an answer. Then the king explained to him, that the mind or the Self of the sleeping man was wandering around in dream, that all places were open to him, that he could be a great king or a great Brahman ; but that there was still a higher condition of felicity, that is, absorption in dreamless sleep, without conscious- ness. In this condition the Self of man, not affected by the outside world, reposes in his true essence and knows no difference between Atman and Brahma.

Another story, reported in the fifth book of Chandogya Upani- shad and in the sixth book of Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, is perhaps of still greater importance.

The young Brahman Shvetaketu conres to a convention, where the King Pravahana Jaivali asks him : " Has your father instructed you?" — "Yes, sir." — "Do you know to what place the dead go?" And three more questions he put to the young Brahman, who was compelled to admit that he knew nothing about them. Discouraged, he returned to his father and reproached him : " Although you have not imparted any knowledge to me, you claim that you have in- structed me. A simple king has asked me three questions and I could not answer a single one." The father replied : "You have known me sufficiently to understand that I taught you all I knew. Come, let us go to the king and learn from him." The king received the Brahman with great honors and requested him to select a present. But Gautama refuses all earthly gifts, gold, cows, horses, female slaves, and asks the king to answer the questions he had put to his son. At first the king was unwilling, but after a while he agreed

62 THE MONIST.

to it and said, that no one on earth could give information on those subjects, except a warrior. And the following words of the king's are very significant : "Would that neither you nor your ancestors had trespassed on us, that this truth might never have set up her residence among Brahmans. But to you, since you are so inquiring, I will communicate our wisdom."

Substantially the same story is found at the beginning of the Kaushitaki Upanishad, except that the king appears under the name Chitra.

Omitting points of less importance, I shall only give in a brief form the contents of the eleventh and the following chapters of the fifth book of the Chandogya Upanishad, where again a man of the warrior caste, Ashvapati, prince of the Kekaya, is shown in posses- sion of the highest wisdom. A number of highly learned Brahmans were speculating on the following problems: " What is our Self ? What is the Brahma ? " and they decided to go to Uddalaka Aruni, who, as they knew, was investigating the " Omnipresent Self." But Aruni said to himself : " Now, they will ask me and I am not able to answer all their questions " ; consequently he requested his visi- tors to go with him to Ashvapati. The latter receives them with great honors, invites them to stay with him, promising them pres- ents as high as their fees for sacrifices. But they replied : "A man must communicate what he knows. You are just now seeking the ' Omnipresent Self; disclose to us what it is?" The king said: " I will answer you to-morrow." The following day, without having received them among his pupils, that is, without a ceremonial re- ception as was usual, he asked them : "What do you venerate as the Self ? " They replied : " Heaven, sun, wind, ether, water, earth." The king reminded them that they were all mistaken in considering the Omnipresent Self as a finite and limited being ; it was the in- finite, the infinitely small and the infinitely great.

The weight of these stories is very plain. Whether they refer to real facts or merely reflect the views of those times in the form of legends, cannot be decided. However, the question of the historical truth of these stories has no bearing whatever. The fact that they are to be found in genuine Brahmanic writings, in books which are

HINDU MONISM. 63

considered in India as the basis of the Brahman caste, speaks a plain language. It shows, that the thought of claiming the monistic doctrine of the Brahma-Atman as the inheritance of their caste, did not occur to the authors of the old Upanishads, or that they dared not claim it ; it may be that they did not yet realise the great importance of the same. Of course in the following ages this science became the exclusive property of the Brahmans and was culti- vated and developed by them during twenty centuries — but this does not do awray with the fact that it originated among the warrior caste. The men of this caste recognised at once the hollowness of the sacrificial system and its absurd symbolical character ; and to them is due the credit of having disclosed a new world of thought and of having accomplished a revolution in the intellectual life of An- cient India. When we learn that the Brahmans continued the sacri- ficial system, even after having adopted the new creed, and by rep- resenting religious ceremonials as the -first step to knowledge, thus combined two wholly heterogeneous elements ; we may justly con- clude that things have taken the same course in Ancient India as in other countries. Progressive ideas are first opposed by the priest- hood, their born enemy, until they have become so powerful that they cannot be opposed any longer, whereupon the priest adopts them and tries to harmonise them with his superstitions.

But the ideas mentioned in the preceding paragraphs, the sub- stance of what is commonly called "Hindu wisdom," are not all that the warriors have done for the religion and philosophy of the people. The noble Gautama of Kapilavastu, the best known of all Hindus, who established Buddhism about 500 years before Christ, was also a Kshattriya, and according to the more recent tradition, which alone was formerly known, the son of a king ; but according to the earlier sources, disclosed by Oldenberg, he was the son of a landed proprietor. Buddha, "the Enlightened," under which name he is known all over the world, most strenuously opposed the sacrificial system and the superstitions of the Brahmans. The cere- monies and the science of the priesthood seemed to him a perfect fraud, and the caste system an absurd institution ; he taught that the finallbeatitude is within the reach of the lowest man, as well as of

64 THE MONIST.

the Brahman and the king ; that every one, without distinction of birth, can attain to "salvation " by contempt of the world, self-denial, and devotion to the welfare of his fellow beings.

Oldenberg's excellent book on Buddha, the newest standard work on this subject, makes it unnecessary for me to dwell at length on the doctrine of the greatest of all Hindus; only in regard to one important point, which has a direct bearing on the subject under consideration, do I differ from his opinion. According to the oldest sources, Buddha's method of teaching is, to a great extent, be- yond the understanding of the bulk of the people ; not a popular, but an abstract philosophical one. For intrinsic reasons, I believe that the old sources do not give a correct report of this matter, and we must not forget that centuries separate them from Buddha. Olden- berg himself raises the point, whether the dry and tedious ecclesias tical style, in which Buddha's thoughts are clothed by those sources, truly reflects the spoken word. He says on page 181 : "Whoever reads the words which the sacred books attribute to Buddha will doubt that the form in which Buddha taught his precepts is to be identified with that abstract and sometimes abstruse metaphysical language. A youthful, invigorating spirit, pervading alike teacher and disciples, is the true picture of those times, admitting of no un- natural or artificial features."

In spite of this, he comes to the conclusion that "the solemn and stern way of speaking, peculiar to Buddha, has been better ex- pressed by tradition than by what we would feel tempted to substi- tute." I am not of this opinion. In India a great success could not have been obtained but by overpowering eloquence and a popular method, intelligible to all, and proceeding by parables and meta- phors. '

If Buddha had only appealed to the intellect of his nearest sur- roundings, consisting merely of aristocratic elements, if he had not found his way to the heart of the people, his monastery would very likely have shared the destiny of the other religious congregations of his age, which have all disappeared, except one. As the doctrines of these monasteries or their founders do not substantially differ from each other, and as it cannot be ascribed to mere chance that

HINDU MONISM. 65

Buddha's doctrine has developed into a universal religion, having the greatest number of adherents, there remains but one hypothesis to account for this fact, and that is the superiority of Buddha's way of teaching. The erroneousness of the generally prevailing opinion that Buddha was in his time the only founder of a new reli^! :>n, and that he suddenly revolutionised the social organisation of 1 .e Indian people, has been clearly established by recent investigatio 13. In fact, he was a " primus inter pares," one of those numerous ascetics who were striving for and preaching " liberation " from the eternal trans- migration.

Besides Buddha's, only one congregation has survived : the Jaina, having numerous members in the western part of India. The principles of the Jaina are very similar to those of Buddha; so much so that until recently it was considered merely as a sect of Buddhism, while it is really a religion of its own, founded by a contemporary or a predecessor of Buddha, named Vardhamana Jnataputra — in the language of the people, Vaddhamana Nataputta — in the same part of the country where Buddha rose. The only difference be- tween the two religions is this : Vardhamana lays great stress on castigation ; while the more progressive Buddha declares it useless — nay, pernicious. The important point in regard to the object of our essay is this: that the founder of Jaina, which occupies a high place in the history of Hindu culture, was also a member of the Warrior Caste.

We shall now have to consider another production of the Indian mind, the very name of which is unknown to most of our readers, although it offers the most interesting religious problems. I refer to the doctrine of the Bhagavatas or Pancharatras. These names, of which the former is the earlier and original one, designate a reli- gious sect in North India, whose existence in the fourth century B. c. is authentically proved, but which can be placed with great probabil- ity in the time before Buddha. They professed a common-sense monotheism, independent of the traditions of the old Brahmans, and venerated God under different names : Bhagavant, "The Sublime," whence their name is derived ; Narayana, " Son of Man ; " Purashot- tamma, "The Supreme Being"; but generally under the name

66 THE M ON I ST.

Krishna Vasudeva, " Son of Vasudeva ". The character of their wor- ship produced feelings identical with the Christian love and devotion to God. The Hindu word for this feeling is Chakti, and for him who was penetrated by the same, Chakta. As the word Chakti cannot be found or has not been found in the Hindu literature earlier than the era of Christ, several scholars are inclined to attribute the Chakti to the influence of Christianity, especially Professor Weber, who de- serves the highest praise for his researches concerning Krishna wor- ship. Weber has proved in several of his books, especially in a highly interesting treatise on Krishna's birth, that numerous Chris- tian notions have entered into the later Krishna legends (the simi- larity of the names, Krishna and Christ, accounts for it): for in- stance, the birth of Christ among the shepherds, the story about the stable, and others of the same kind. In spite of this, I cannot em- brace the opinion that the Chakti has been brought from a foreign country, because its first appearance belongs to a period in which Christian influences cannot be found. As I cannot go into details without discussing very difficult points, requiring a great deal of erudition, I will only say that whoever is familiar with the old Hindu civilisation will easily understand that the Chakti is of genu- ine Hindu origin. Monotheistic notions can be traced to the old- est periods of Hindu antiquity, and the Hindu mind has always been animated by a high aspiration towards God ; so that it should not surprise us that this feature of the Hindu character has produced a religion popular and independent of philosophical speculation, consisting in love and devotion to God. The founder of this re- ligion was Krishna Vasudeva, afterwards raised to divine dignity, or rather identified with the deity ; from his name and from the legends attached to his name, he was a member of the Warrior Caste. As early as the epoch of the Mahabharata, the great Indian epic poem, the Brahmans appropriated to themselves the name and work of Krishna, and transformed the venerated hero into the God Vishnu ; thus increasing their strength by adopting a doctrine not of Brah- manic origin.

We have thus found that the profound philosophical monism of the Upanishads, the highly moral religions of Buddha and Jaina,

HINDU MONISM. 67

and last, not least, the creed of the Bhagavatas, based on pure de- votion to God, did not originate among the Brahmans.

However favorably we may judge of the achievements of the Brahmans in all branches of science, and I am far from vilifying their merits, still it is certain that the greatest intellectual perform- ances of India, nay, all such in India that have been beneficial to mankind, were accomplished by men of the Warrior Caste.

RICHARD GARBE.

THE IDEA OE NECESSITY, ITS BASIS AND ITS

SCOPE.

THE idea of necessity, although a fundamental concept in phi- losophy and science, has not as yet been so clearly denned that all thinkers would agree as to its meaning and significance. Necessity is frequently identified with compulsion, and thus it is supposed to be incompatible with freedom of will. It is also iden- tified with fate, as if it were a destiny that existed above the will of man and the powers of nature, similar to the Moira of the ancients. It is said to exclude chance in every possible conception of the term and to cause the evolution of the world to proceed by a predeter- mined arrangement, like the mechanism of a clock.

We cannot endorse Mr. Charles S. Peirce's objection to the doctrine of necessity, .but we side with him when he denounces the mechanical philosophy for considering minds as "part of the phys- ical world in such a sense that the laws of mechanics determine everything that happens." Mr. Peirce is right when he rebukes the mechanical philosopher for "entering consciousness under the head of sundries as a forgotten trifle." In some sense minds are parts of the physical, i. e. the natural, world, but they are not parts of that province of nature which constitutes the special domain of physics and mechanics. Ideas are not motions and cannot be explained by mechanical laws.

Having criticised in a former article of ours Mr. Peirce's posi- tion, and having rejected the indeterminism proposed by him, we shall discuss in the following pages the basis and scope of the idea of necessity.

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 69

The idea of necessity is based upon the conception of sameness, and we find that the existence of samenesses is a feature of the world in which we live. The existence of samenesses is a fact of expe- rience, and upon the presence of this fact depends the possibility of the origin, the being, and the development of the thinking mind itself.

Necessity, as we understand it, must be carefully distinguished from the idea of fate. Although we accept without reserve the doc- trine of determinism, we do not mean to deny the important part that chance plays in the world — not absolute chance, which according to Mr. Peirce is exempt from law, but that same chance of which the throw of a die is a typical instance. And bearing in mind that necessity is not a power outside of nature and above the will of man, but that it resides in them as the quality of sameness, we abandon the view that identifies necessity with compulsion ; recognising thus, that freedom of the will is not incompatible with our view of ne- cessitarianism.

I. THE BASIS OF NECESSITY.

The standpoint from which we shall treat this subject is that of monistic positivism, — the method which accepts no doctrine, theory, or law unless it be a formulation of facts. Facts are the bottom- rock to which we can and must dig down. At the same time, wher- ever facts appear contradictory to one another, we should not be satisfied, but continue to investigate until they are systematised so as to form a unitary entirety.

Before we begin our inquiry into the existence or non-existence of necessity, it is advisable to define the meaning of the term.

The Latin word necesse is most probably a compound of the negative ne and the supine cessum from cedere to yield, to move. "Necessary," according to this etymology, would mean that which does not yield but abides. Thus it is the inevitable ; it is that which is or will be.

It is in this sense that the word is still used, or at least ought to be used, and in this sense we shall also use it.

70 THE MONIST.

Every word naturally acquires by a more or less appropriate application a series of meanings. So " necessary" means also that which is needful, that which is essential, that which is indispensable and requisite ; it also means that which is done under compulsion. It is understood that we exclude all the other meanings of necessary except the original one, which is its properly philosophical meaning.

The idea of necessity is closely allied to the idea of same- ness. In order to understand the former we must be clear con- cerning the meaning of the latter.

THE IDEA OF SAMENESS.

There exist a number of synonyms often used indiscriminately ; they are : identity, sameness, equality, congruity, similarity, and likeness. By "identity" we generally understand a sameness in every respect, absolute sameness ; by "equality", a sameness that can be expressed in figures. Equality is always a measurable same- ness, and refers to quantity, mass, size, length, height, age, etc. Likeness and similitude are samenesses of form or of proportion, albeit not of size. It is often used as a partial sameness of impres- sions, not so much as they are in themselves, but as they appear to the mind. Congruity is a synonym of sameness in the province of geometry, denoting the coincidence of figures when laid upon one another. *

The logical principle of identity, so-called, it appears to me, ought to be named the principle of sameness, for it has not refer- ence to the absolute sameness of a thing with itself. f The state- ment A = A does not mean that this particular thing A is itself and that therefore the one A is one and the same thing. It is a general statement and means that all A, in so far as they are A, are the same. The statement A = A, as I take it, presupposes the exist-

* The adjective " like " is an abbreviation of "alike"; and " a-like " (M.E. alyke, A.S. gellc, O.H.G. galih, M.H.G. gelic/i, M.G. gleic/i) is a compound of the prefix a with He body, shape, figure.

f I am satisfied that logical identity is intended to mean sameness. I suppose that the word identity, being Latin and a kind of international term, appeared to logicians preferable to the Saxon word "sameness" or the German " Gleich- heit." We need not look for any deeper reason for the adoption of the term.

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 71

ence of a number of A's ; otherwise it would have no sense, and it would not only be empty, (as we know from Kant that all formal statements are,) but meaningless and useless. It would be of no avail either in logic or in science.

In consideration of the fact that the idea of sameness is a funda- mental concept in our scientific, logical, and philosophical reasoning, it is astonishing that no satisfactory definition of it is to be found. To define "same" as "one in substance; not other, ... of one na- ture or general character, of one kind, degree, or amount," as is done in the "Century Dictionary," is no improvement upon "Web- ster," who defines it as "not different or other ; identical. Of like kind, species, sort, dimensions or the like ; not different in char- acter or in the quality or qualities compared ; . . . like." However, dictionaries are not encyclopaedias ; and they have perhaps a right to define same as identical, and identical as same.

Mr. James Ward, in the " Encyclopaedia Britannica," (XVI, 81, in his excellent article on "Psychology,") incidentally complains about the ambiguity of the word "same" ; he proposes a distinc- tion between "material identity" and "individual identity," but this does not solve the difficulty. Flemming's "Vocabulary of Philoso- phy" (4th ed. edited by Calderwood) contains several articles on "identical" and on "identity" without discussing in any one of them the meaning of "same" or of "identical."

What then is the meaning of same ?

Let us first consider the etymology of the word. The root of "same" is found in almost all Indo-European languages ; it is pre- served in the first syllable of the Latin "similis" and "simul," in the second syllable of the German " Zusammen " ; in the Greek "a/^a" and "oyuozo?," and the Sanskrit "sama," all of which de- note a togetherness. Thus the etymological meaning seems to sig- nify what is classed in one category. Accordingly, the present meaning as defined by the dictionaries, as being that which is "of one nature or not different in character," has not changed ; at any rate if there is any change, it is slight. Yet it is desirable to bring out and set in a clear light the purport of the word and its essence.

72 THE MONIST.

What, then, is the economic service and function of the idea of "sameness " in the household of thought ?

"Sameness " is that feature in two things or states of things, in two processes or modes of action, which brings it to pass that the one may be replaced by the other without altering for a certain purpose the state of things or affecting the result of the entire process. Popu- larly expressed, sameness is the capability of one thing's being sub- stituted for another.

There is no need of discussing or proving the truism, that, properly speaking, there is no absolute sameness, no identity in the strict sense of the term. This was the meaning of Heraclitus's idea of the perpetual flux of things, expressed in his navra p£i. There are no two moments in time, no two points in space, no two atoms of matter actually identical, and we cannot enter into the identical river twice.

Cratylus tried to outdo Heraclitus, by saying that we cannot even enter once into the identical river, for while entering, not only the river changes but also we ourselves ; and Cratylus is perfectly right.

We have purposely substituted in Heraclitus's proposition " identical " for " same," because this change is needed to bring out the truth of the idea. Heraclitus and Cratylus cease tcr be right if we use the word same as above defined. We enter indeed the same river twice. The river of to-day is, for a certain purpose, quite the same as the river of yesterday, in so far namely as the river of to-day and the river of yesterday serve a certain and the same purpose : for other purposes this same river will perhaps not be the same. The geographer and historian speak of the Rhine as that stream of water which since time immemorial has flowed down from the St. Gotthardt to the North Sea. Accordingly, if we stand on the bank of the Rhine, it is quite correct to say that this is the same river that was crossed by Caesar. Let the purpose of our thoughts be changed, and we shall no longer be permitted to speak of sameness. Suppose we had seen the Rhine for the first time in its beautiful emerald col- oring, and had come again after a rainy day to admire its beauty, should we not be justified in exclaiming : This is not the same river !

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 73

Sameness, accordingly, depends upon a special purpose. If in a chemical combination a metal is wanted, it may be all the same whether we use iron, zinc, lead, or gold. That is to say, it is all the same for bringing about a special result ; yet it is not all the same in other respects. The weight and certain other qualities of the metals are different, and also the cost.

SAMENESS AND MIND.

Sameness depending upon a special purpose, the question arises, Is there any objective sameness in the world, or is sameness a mere subjective addition to things ? Is sameness something "real " or is it purely mental ?

This is the old quarrel between the Nominalists and Realists among the Schoolmen. It lies at the bottom of the problem of uni- versals and particulars, and we should say, it is only a special form of the question, "Are relations objective qualities of existence or are they products of the mind ? " which was discussed in a former number (T/ie Monist, II, 2, pp. 240—42). The idea of sameness rep- resents the most important relation that exists ; and if any relation is real, the relation of sameness must be real also.

If sameness depends upon a special purpose, it appears that there can be no sameness without that purpose ; and the purpose being purely mental, the sameness also would seem to be purely mental. But this is not so. Sameness is an idea, and it is no excep- tion to other ideas. All ideas are mental symbols formed for a spe- cial purpose ; but, being symbols of something, ideas are represent- ative of some reality, or of some feature of a reality, or of some relation between two or several things. Every idea stands for some- thing ; and this quality of the significance of ideas is called their

•>

meaning or their import.

The question now is, How does the idea of sameness originate in the world where, as we stated above, there is no absolute same- ness, no identity ? Our answer is that sameness, not identity, is a general feature of this world of reality, 'which impresses itself upon every mind from the very beginning of the mind's origin.

We can go farther in our statement and make it more emphatic :

74

THE MONIST.

Mind originates and grows only on the ground of the fact that same- ness is a feature of the world, and is recognised as such by feeling substance.

Two points or two congruent geometrical figures being in dif- ferent places are not identical. But they are of such a nature that, so far as regards the purposes of geometry, one serves the purposes in question just as well as the other, or one can be replaced by the other ; and this quality is called their sameness.

Now as a matter of fact there are no two concrete things in the world in which there cannot be found some sameness. Both somehow affect sentiency ; we say they consist of matter. Both can be measured in size, breadth, and height : we say, they are ex- tended. Both are at any given moment in a certain relation to other things : we say, they are in space. Both have a definite form and consist of one or several special structures (i. e., so to say, in- side-forms). All things can in some way or other be classed together under one heading. These samenesses of things go along with dif- ferences, and the degree of sameness in the different things varies greatly. Whether there is any sameness and difference at all in the world, cannot be decided a priori, but is a problem which can be solved only on the ground of, first, an a posteriori statement of the facts, second, a systematical arrangement of the facts. If this is accomplished we can venture into a methodical investigation as to the nature of the samenesses as well as the differences that obtain in the universe, and having arranged them in a system, we can apply a priori this system to facts with which we are not as yet acquainted.

The many samenesses which are experienced are not purely mental additions ; they are not mere subjective imputations trans- ferred upon objective existence. They are real ; i. e. there are in the objective things actual features which allow of certain substitu- tions. A ray of light awakens in some feeling substance the traces left by former rays of light ; and this reawakening is called mem- ory. The perception of sameness is the beginning of mind, and it involves the perception of difference as a natural consequence.

Suppose that the stuff of which the world consists were cap- able of acquiring feeling, but there were no samenesses whatever ;

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 75

which would mean that every smallest piece of the world-stuff were a particular thing by itself and in every respect unlike every other piece, of a different material or of no material at all, of different size or of no size at all, and also possessed of a different number of space dimensions. In such a world all the impacts made upon a sentient being would be different ; not one would be like the other, and all feelings would present a chaos without uniformities, worse than the most complex crazy-quilt. Under such circumstances mind would be impossible : it would neither originate nor could it develop.

On the other hand suppose again that the stuff of which the world consists were capable of acquiring feeling in some certain formation, and that there were samenesses in the world and in the events of the world. Would not mind necessarily originate in such a world? Given feeling substance in a world of samenesses and differences, these samenesses will produce analogous samenesses of impression upon the feeling substance, which will be perceived as samenesses of feeling. The preservation of the traces left in the feeling substance (supposing this substance to live on indefinitely) will in the long run result in the formation of special sense-organs. It will later on, with the aid of word-symbolism, lead to the forma- tion of universals, for universals are nothing but samenesses per- ceived. It will then create with the assistance of abstraction the realm of scientific thought, representing the uniformities of the events of the world in exact formulas.

THE EXISTENCE OF SAMENESSES A FACT.

The question whether there are samenesses at all in the world, is in our opinion settled. It is a fact that there are samenesses. The uniformities of the world are a matter of indubitable experience — indubitable because our very existence as thinking beings, as minds, is conditioned by this fact. We see the mind of every child develop out of his perception of samenesses. Our scientists teach us that the race-soul, like a great immortal individual, is the pro- duct of the accumulated experience of samenesses ; and all future progress, in science as well as in civilisation, in mechanical invention

76 THE MONIST.

as well as in ethics, depends upon the trustworthiness of the same- nesses stated to exist in the objective world.

The question of the ultimate raison d'etre of the samenesses and differences, is another question ; and it would lead us too far here to discuss it. In several details the problem is not as yet ripe for solu- tion. A full solution of the problem would be tantamount to the exposition of a complete knowledge of the world. Suffice it here to say that we have reasons to think of the world-stuff as being of the same nature throughout. The chemical elements seem to be differ- ent configurations of one and the same substance. In this way all difference would have to be explained as a difference of form.

The form of reality possesses sameness and difference in all its parts. Space in its sameness is by experience found to be tri-dimen- sional, which means, it is determinable throughout by three coordi- nates ; while its differences are due to the position of the points con- sidered. For the purpose of the geometrician space is uniform, but for the purpose, say of the architect, it is not uniform. To the geom- etrician two congruent triangles, whether they are in the cellar or in the garret, are the same. However, to the architect the position of two congruent triangles in his design of a house is by no means the same. Every single point of space has its special and individual qualities.

The whole business of science is to systematise the samenesses of experience, and to present them in such convenient formulas that they can be used for guidance in our actions.

The most comprehensive formulation of the sameness of the universe as a whole has found its expression in the law of the con- servation of matter and energy. This law rests upon the experience, corroborated by experiments, that causation is transformation. It states that the total amount of matter and the total amount of energy remain constant. There is no creation out of nothing and no con- version of something into nothing.

EINDEUTIG BESTIMMT.

After this sketch of the importance of sameness, (a subject which we have by no means exhausted,) we return to the idea of necessity.

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 77

The ideas of sameness and necessity are closely related. A world of sameness is a world in which necessity rules, and necessity means regularity and order.

German scientists have a very good expression to denote the formulation of events in a manner which describes them in their necessary course. If they have succeeded in finding the sameness in the instances of a certain class of events, they say that it is ein- deutig bestimmt, which means, the sameness is determined in a way that admits of no equivocation; it is complete, representing solely and purely that feature upon the presence of which the result depends. Whatever is thus eindeutig bestimmt, is recognised in its necessity. The presence of that feature which makes it eindeutig bestimmt, de- termines the event to take place ; and this being determined, its inevitableness, the it will be of the process, is all there is to neces- sity.

All natural phenomena that can be eindeutig bestimmt are neces- sary in their happening. A world which with regard to the total amount of its matter and energy is the same to-day and yesterday and will be the same to-morrow, a world whose laws of form possess a sameness throughout, so that it allows of formulating and applying them in their rigidity to all facts present, past, and future, a world in which all the changes are transformations determinable with the assistance of formal laws, can be relied upon and the course of its events can be computed.

Such is the world in which we live ; and taking this ground I say, the world is a cosmos, it is no chaos ; and noticing that being possessed of sameness is an intrinsic and inalienable feature of the world, I am inclined to add the world never was and never will be a chaos. And this, if it be true at all, is true not only in general and as it were wholesale, but in its minutest details. If there were deficiencies of this order in the unobservable details, they would not be diminished by being summed up in large and ever larger amounts; on the contrary, they would increase ; they would grow in pro- portion. This not being the case, we have not the slightest reason to doubt that in those realms of minutest existence into which, from the grossness and the lack of precision of our organs and instru-

78 THE MON1ST.

ments of observation, we cannot penetrate, the same order and reg- ularity obtains as in those regions which lie open to our investiga- tion. In other words : From this standpoint, existence is, so to say, permeated by law throughout ; every event is determined and any kind of absolute chance is excluded.

Following Kant's etymology we understand by a posteriori the sensory elements, and by a priori the formal elements of our expe- rience. The queer expression "a priori" is in so far justified as formal truths (such as geometrical, arithmetical, logical rules) are formulas expressing the universal samenesses of the form of exist- ence. They contain the laws of form in a shape that is eindeutig bestimmt, so that an experimenter will know them a priori to be so. A priori means beforehand. An experimenter knows certain things even before he makes his experiments. The a priori elements of experience are by no means innate truths ; nor are they the histor- ical beginning of experience. On the contrary. In their abstract purity they appear as a very late product of man's mental evolution.

The a priori systems of thought are not arbitrary constructions ; they are constructions raised out of the recognition of the formal, i. e. the relational, samenesses that appear in experience. All possi- bilities of a certain class of relations can be exhausted and formu- lated in theorems. As such they can be used as references to assist in the explanation and determination of new experiences. We know some part of any new experience with which we are confronted even before we have investigated it. We know certain laws of its form, and by reference to these known laws we are enabled to re- duce the unknown to the known, to analyse the process and set forth that feature of it which makes it eindeutig bestinunt.

II. THE SCOPE OF NECESSITY.

Mr. Peirce objects to necessitarianism, and classes it together with materialism and the mechanical philosophy, speaking of the latter as the most logical form of necessitarianism. In consonance with the dictionary-definitions of these words, he contrasts them to the doctrine of the freedom of the will and also to miracles — the

TMK IDEA OF NECESSITY. 79

latter, we must confess, being a dangerous concession to certain the- ological conceptions.

The "Century Dictionary" defines "necessitarianism" as

"The theory that the will is subject to the general mechanical law of cause and effect."

And "necessitarian" as

"One who maintains the doctrine of philosophical necessity, in opposition to that of the freedom of the will : opposed to libertarian."

The word "determinism " is regarded as a synonym of necessi- tarianism. Its first definition in the " Century Dictionary " reads as follows :

"A term invented by Sir William Hamilton to denote the doctrine of the ne- cessitarian philosophers, who hold that man's actions are uniformly determined by motives acting upon his character, and that he has not the power to choose to act in one way so long as he prefers on the whole to act in another way."

Hamilton's definition as here presented is puzzling. If the words "choose" and "prefer on the whole" are not meant to be tautological, there is no sense in it ; for no determinist denies that a man might "upon the whole" prefer to act this way, while he has the power to choose, and for special considerations perhaps does choose, to act in another way. However, if the words "choose" and "prefer on the whole" are meant to be tautological, the self- contradictoriness of the statement is too palpable for a Hamilton. Is there anybody who would maintain that a man who chooses to act in one way can at the same time, under the very same circum- stances, and he remaining the very same man of the same character and intentions, choose to act in another way?

While we accept determinism and also necessitarianism in the sense that all events (the actions of willing beings included) are de- termined, we cannot accept either the mechanical philosophy or materialism as the terms are commonly understood.

We find materialism defined as

' ' The metaphysical doctrine that matter is the only substance, and that matter and its motions constitute the universe." ("Century Dictionary," ad sense.)

8o THE MONIST.

The mechanical philosophy is explained sub voce "atomic" as

" [The view that] from the diverse combination and motions of .... atoms all things, including the soul, were supposed to arise." Ibid.

Determinism is simply the negation of absolute chance. It does not exclude chance in the original sense of the word as an un- expected event, as something that befalls one without his seeking it or making the event — chance being derived from ML. cadentia, i. e. the falling, as in a throw of dice.

The "Century Dictionary" defines "chance" in sense 9, as " Fortuity ; especially the absence of a cause necessitating an event."

This is absolute chance, the existence of which we deny. The "Century Dictionary" adds the following little note :

"Absolute chance, the (supposed) spontaneous occurrence of events undeter- mined by any general law or by any free volition. According to Aristotle, events may come about in three ways : first, by necessity or an external compulsion ; sec- ond, by nature or the development of an inward germinal tendency ; and third, by chance, without any determining cause or principle whatever, by lawless, sporadic originality."*

We understand chance as being, from certain premisses, an in- calculable coincidence, either not intended to be calculated, or, for certain reasons, fron> a given standpoint with a limited and definite amount of knowledge, not capable of calculation. Determinism, as we understand the term, does not imply as the "Century Dic- tionary" has it in its definition of necessitarianism, that "the law of cause and effect " is " mechanical." It simply asserts that the law of cause and effect holds good universally, and that there is no effect that is not definitely determined, according to the nature of the things in action, by causes and all their circumstances.

* Knowing that Mr. Peirce is one of the most prominent contributors to the Century Dictionary, I may be pardoned for surmising that, perhaps with the excep- tion of the parenthesised word "(supposed)" he is the author of this passage and very likely of most of the other quotations of philosophical terms we have adduced from the same source.

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 8l

NECESSITY AND CHANCE. Mr. Peirce says :

"All the diversity and specificalness of events is attributable to chance — diversification, specificalness, and irregularity of things, I suppose is chance — and this diversity cannot be due to laws that are immutable." (P. 332.)

Our world-view leads us to other conclusions ; we say :

Every specificalness or particularity is such by possessing a certain form and standing in a definite relation (in time as well as space) to all other things of the universe. Of every concrete thing we can say it is now and here, or it was then and there. It is or was made up in this special way, and it stands or it stood in these special relations to its surroundings. Proportions, relations, forms — these are what account for the diversification and specificalness of all things in the universe; they are what explain the irregularities of individual cases and of all those events which appear as chance to him who, although he may be well informed about the nature of a thing, does not know the relation of its complex surroundings, exercising according to law their disturbing influence upon its ac- tions which otherwise would be uniform.

And since no two spots of space and no two instances of time are the same, since the relations of every atom are different in every position and at every moment of its existence, we need not be as- tonished to find diversity and specificalness in this world of same- nesses.

We do not believe in absolute chance, but we believe in chance.

What is chance ?

Chance is any event not especially intended, either not calcu- lated, or, with a given and limited stock of knowledge, incalculable.

Gunpowder was, according to the legend, invented by chance. Berthold Schwartz intended to make gold, yet when the mixture was ignited, he began to understand that it was an explosive. When I say that I met a friend by chance, I mean that the meet- ing was unintentional. I had not foreseen it and perhaps could not foresee it. When we call a throw of dice pure chance, we mean that the incidents which condition the turning up of these or those

82 THE MONIST.

special faces of the dice have not been or cannot be calculated. We do not mean that the law of cause and effect is suspended ; we mean that we are unable to determine the effect. That which would make this or that throw eindeutig bestimmt is either not known to us, or, if it were known, is of such a nature that we cannot produce the de- sired effect with any certainty. Matters are so arranged in the game of dice that the slightest incident changes the result, and these in- cidents are either not within our ken or not within the range of our power. Chance, accordingly, as we understand it, is no exception to necessity ; it does not happen contrary to law, and is in each case the strict result of a definite cause under definite circumstances.

Absolute chance is something quite different. Absolute chance is that which is incalculable because of the absence of law. Mr. Peirce says :

"Another argument, or convenient commonplace, is that absolute chance is inconceivable. This word has eight current significations. The ' Century Diction- ary ' enumerates six. Those who talk like this will hardly be persuaded to say in what sense they mean that chance is inconceivable."

Absolute chance is "inconceivable" as the word is defined by the " Century Dictionary" in the second sense : It is

" unacceptable to the mind because .involving a violation of laws believed to be well established by positive evidence."

Absolute chance is not unthinkable in the sense of unimagin- able. We can very well depict a case of absolute chance in our imagination, just as we can tell and describe in minutest details the fairy tale of Alladin's lamp ; just as we can in our imagination de- pict a creation out of nothing. But he who accepts that the world is in its innermost nature a cosmos, that its events are strictly and throughout regulated by law, cannot at the same time think that there are nooks and crevices in which the law does not operate. Ab- solute chance actually involves the idea of a creation out of nothing ; and thus it stands in contradiction to the law of the preservation of matter and energy. Absolute chance which means that the very same thing under the very same conditions can act in this or in some other way, that it need not act in exactly the same way, involves a

* THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 83

belief in either the creation of a not existing quality out of nothing, or the disappearance of existing qualities into nothing.

Mr. Peirce says :

"It seems to me that every throw of sixes with a pair of dice is a manifest in- stance of chance."

Yes, of chance ; but not of that chance the existence of which Mr. Peirce maintains — not of absolute chance. Every throw of dice, every toss of head or tail, are exactly determined by circumstances. We call it chance only in so far as we cannot calculate and prede- termine the result.

Suppose you take two large silver coins between your thumb and the first two fingers, one coin parallel to and a little above the other. Suppose tails are up in both. Drop the lower coin without an effort just as it would fall, about twenty inches, and you may be sure that, in spite of yourself, it will turn up head. Then drop the upper one and it will not turn, but plump right down showing tail. There are certain mechanical reasons for the one case as well as for the other. As soon as we know the law and can apply it, the case ceases to be an instance of chance.

Dice, the roulette, and other games of chance are so arranged, that the determinating circumstances are too numerous and also too complex, one interfering with and being disturbed by the others, to admit of any adequate calculation or predetermination. An arrange- ment of conditions which in this way eludes the calculation of a definite set of possibilities, is called by Professor Kries gleiche Spiel- rdume or equal chances. And the province of equal chances is and will remain the proper sphere of the calculus of probabilities.

Professor Nitsche objects to Kries's proposition, saying that absolutely equal chances are impossible and an equal chance (ein gleicher Spielrauni) is nothing but the objectification of a judgment of equal value.* We find no fault with Nitsche's objection ; there are no absolutely equal chances ; and what is called " equal chance "

* Die Principien der Wahrscheinlichkeitsrechnung by Johannes von Kries. See also Meinong's review of the book (in Goft. gel Anz., No. 2, p. 56 et seqq.) and Ad. Nitsche's article on the subject (in Vierteljahrsschrift fur imss. Phil, of 1892. XVI, i, p. 26).

84 THE MONIST.

means that the strength of two or several anticipations is of the same degree ; that our belief and doubt as to the turning up of one, two, three, four, five, or six spots of a die are equally justified. The ob- jective conditions which justify such equality of several expectations is what Kries (if we understand him correctly) calls gleiche Spiel- raume. But gleiche Spielraume do not imply absolute chance. We might as well expect that all the six faces of a die should turn up simultaneously in one throw, as that any one of them should turn up by absolute chance.

While absolute chance cannot be admitted, partly because we are not in need of it, (since the irregularities of nature can be suffi- ciently explained otherwise,) and partly because the idea of absolute chance if it were needed, is incompatible with our world-conception, we shall, nevertheless, have to concede to chance, as we understand the term, a very important role in the evolution of life. The forma- tion of worlds and the history of mankind depend to a great extent upon chances similar to the throws of dice. There are many possi- bilities, and now this, now that, will, according to the circumstances, be realised — of course in each case with strict necessity.

Let us illustrate this idea by an example.

The formation of about seventy elements out of the original world-substance, which may be supposed to be homogeneous, does not appear to depend upon chance. Their universal appearance in all parts of the universe suggests the hypothesis that their forma- tion is the inevitable result of a gradual condensation of nebular substances. We find everywhere, according to the stage of conden- sation, a gradual appearance, first of the lighter, then of the heavier elements. There seems to be no possibility of the formation of other elements than those known to us (including here the hypothetical elements which are still missing in the Mendeljeff series and at the same time, at least, not excluding a further continuance of the series). These elements or none, it appears, must be formed out of the original substance of our world. Let us here assume, for argu- ment's sake, that it were so beyond question, and that we knew the na- ture of the world-substance to be such as to condense, if it condenses at all, into no other but these forms, which we call chemical elements.

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 85

This would be a limitation of possibilities. Exactly so the throws of dice are limited. With the dice commonly in use we cannot throw fractions ; nor can we throw either zero, or seven, or any other higher number. We can throw only whole numbers, integrals from one up to six. But while we thus assume that the formation of the elements is limited to those actually existing, the proportion in which the elements may be distributed in the different nebulae and solar systems, is apparently very different. Suppose we had a full knowl- edge of the intrinsic nature of the world-substance and were stand- ing outside the universe observing the process of world-formations ; we could not from this knowledge alone predict all that would happen. We should on our assumption be able to predict a priori that such elements would be formed. But whether the different elements would be generated in these or in other proportions appears to depend upon the presence of certain conditions, perhaps the rapidity of motion, the heat produced by friction, the temperature of the surrounding cos- mic space, any knowledge of which is not included in our knowledge of the nature of the world-substance. These conditions may vary, nay, so far as we can judge they actually do vary ; and any apparently slight variation of them, or even one of them, will result in dif- ferent effects of great consequence. Without a detailed knowledge of all these special conditions, simply from a supposed a priori knowledge of the world-substance, the idiosyncracy of this or that particular solar system could not be a priori determined. Here it will be such, and there, under perhaps slightly different circum- stances, it will be entirely other. Here the centre of gravity may be in one great mass, there again it may be divided in two, so that the planets circle around two suns.

From this point of view we have to call these results products of chance.

To a being who not only might be supposed to know the intrinsic •nature of existence, but could have present before his mind every event of the great interacting cosmos in its entire complexity, this kind of chance would, of course, also disappear. To him all states of things would appear throughout as eindeutig bestimmt. Yet, although in this way necessity permeates all events that take place, we do not

86 THE MONIST.

intend to deny the irregularity of detail,* the specificalness of the particulars, the diversity of individual incidents and existences. Ac- cording to our conception of nature they must remain, and we need not attribute them to absolute chance. To attribute irregularities to absolute chance (as Mr. Peirce does) is actually an abandonment of explaining them. The specificalness and particularity of nature can be said to be due to chance in so far only as they do not depend upon and are not determinable by the nature of the things under consideration, but result (with strict necessity of course) from the ever-changing conformations of surrounding circumstances.

Thus the fate of a man depends mainly upon his character, — the proverb says, "Every man is the architect of his own fortune" — but not entirely. There are sometimes coincidences determining the fates of men, and through them the fates of whole nations. And these coincidences do not result from their character.

Let everybody think of his own fate. Part of his life has been what it was because he is such a man as he is ; and we can, within certain limits, predict the fate of a youth with whose character we are familiar. But how much of our lives depends upon circumstances which could be foreseen only by an omniscient being, and which, as we might properly say, if we do not misunderstand the term, is due to chance !

FREE WILL.

Compulsion is generally considered as a synonym of necessity. But the usage of the term necessity in the sense of compulsion is, in our opinion, very inappropriate, because misleading. Necessity and compulsion should not be confounded ; for compulsion excludes free will and " necessity " does not.

A government compels its citizens to obey certain unpopular laws ; the victorious army compels the enemy to surrender. The obedience of the citizens and the surrender of the enemy are acts

* By irregularity of detail we understand simply a lack of uniformity, but not exceptions to law. If irregularity be denned as exception to law, we should say, There is no irregularity in the world, while at the same time nothing is uniform : for every particle of the world is in its time and space relations and otherwise dif- ferent from every other particle.

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 87

done under compulsion ; they are not acts of free will. But a man of a certain character wills, under given circumstances and in the absence of compulsion, necessarily in the way in which he does. The determination of a free will is not a matter of chance but of necessity. Yet the determining factors are not outside but inside ; they are not due to compulsion, not to the pressure of a foreign power, but to the nature of the willing being himself.

This, then, is the definition of "free" : A being is free if it is unrestrained, so that it acts according to its own nature. As is its nature, so it wills ; as it wills, so it acts. If we know the character of a man and the situation in which he is placed, we can predict his choice as the necessary result of his nature. His decision, although it is free and not under" compulsion, is not an outcome of chance which might under the same conditions be different, but is the in- evitable result of necessity.

If by free will we had to understand that the decisions of the will are the result either of chance or of absolute chance, the fore- most duty of the educator would be to make man unfree, to insert certain dominant ideas into his mind, destined to determine his will. The free man according to this definition of free will as being due to chance, would be a person whose actions are more whimsical than the fancies of lunatics. We reject this conception of the freedom of the will.

In our opinion a will is free if it is unrestrained so that it can act according to its nature. Our conception of free will does not stand in contradiction to the doctrine of "determinism " as defined by the " Century Dictionary " in its second sense :

" In general, the doctrine that whatever is or happens is entirely determined by antecedent causes."

THE MECHANICAL PHILOSOPHY.

We distinguish between (i) mechanical, (2) physical, (3) chem- ical, (4) physiological, and (5) psychical events.

A mechanical phenomenon is a change of place which does not involve a change of the constitution of the parts moved. E. g., a stone is pushed ; its position is altered, but the stone remains the same.

88 THE MONIST.

A physical phenomenon is an event in which the molecular state of the bodies in action is altered. Water heated becomes steam, frozen it becomes ice. The three states have different molec- ular configurations.

Chemical phenomena are such in which the constitution of the atoms is altered. The characteristic qualities of hydrogen, for ex- ample, are different when combined with different elements or when isolated. Each combination is a peculiar substance with peculiar qualities and not a mixture or combination of the qualities of the iso- lated elements.

Physiological processes are all those changes that take place in the living irritable substance of plants and animals, such as nutrition, growth, and propagation. Its characteristic features are (i) hun- ger or thirst, i. e. the want of certain materials (food), (2) the re- ception of the wanted materials by suction or other means, which in some cases are a quite mechanical or physical process, not unlike the afflux of oxygen caused by a burning candle or the suction of water by a sponge, and (3) the assimilation of food. The materials received are distributed in the places wanted, thus adding to the building up of the living substance according to the nature of its structure. This produces as a natural result (4) the phenomenon of growth with a preservation of form. (5) Propagation is a special kind of growth ; it is the growth of a part that at some stage of its development becomes an independent individual.

Psychical phenomena are such in which feelings and the mean- ings of feelings are the determinant factors.

It is apparent that all these terms, mechanical, physical, chem- ical, physiological, and psychical, are mere abstracts. In describing a mechanical phenomenon, we limit our attention to the mechanical change. We do not mean to say that the body moved does not pos- sess chemical, physical, perhaps physiological, or even psychical qualities. The calculation of the curve of a jump is a mechanical problem, although the jumping body may be a human being. How- ever, the question why did the man jump, is a psychical question. The motive of the jump is an idea in that class of mental activity characterised as purpose. The man had an end in view. And this

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 89

idea of an end to be realised is the combined result of special con- ditions and of the character of the man.

The different spheres of mechanical, physical, chemical, phys- iological, and psychical actions being abstractions, it is obvious that science when dealing with so-called purely mechanical phenomena, has to do with a fiction. There are no purely mechanical phenom- ena. There are features of reality which are purely mechanical ; and these we call motions. But the world does not consist of motions only. It also possesses other qualities.

The mechanical philosopher assumes that the world consists of matter and motion only, and so he feels warranted in the hope that every event that takes place, the actions of man included, can be ex- plained by the laws of motion. Yet the premiss is wrong, and we may anticipate that the conclusion also will prove erroneous. And so it is.

The laws of motion are applicable to and will explain all mo- tions ; but they are not applicable to that which is not motion.

It is inconceivable how we can hope to explain a feeling by the laws of motion ; and so the fond hope of explaining the problems of the nature of the soul by mechanics is preposterous. No objection can be made to the possibility of explaining the delicate motions in the nervous substance of the brain by the laws of molar or molecular mechanics. But these explanations would throw no light upon the causation that takes place in the mind. The properly psychical phe- nomena, the properly intelligent action of thought, could not be ex- plained in this way. For the world of mentality introduces quite a new factor into the sphere of being.

What is this new factor?

The nature of mental activity consists in the symbolism of feel- ings. Feelings, being different under different conditions and the same under same conditions, become representative of their corre- sponding causes, and thus the objects of experience are depicted in feeling symbols.

Representativeness, accordingly, is the nature of mind.

The question, How certain brain-structures operate, is a ques- tion of the mechanics of nervous substance, and further, the

go THE MONIST.

question, How thought-operations take place, is a question, so to say, of logical mechanics. But the question, Why a certain idea responds to certain stimuli and not to others, does not admit of a mechanical explanation or formulation. The answer to this ques- tion will be a description of the nature of the idea ; and the nature of the idea is not a motion : it is the meaning of which the idea is possessed.

The action of a mind depends upon the meaning of certain sym- bols. A written or spoken word has a special meaning, and this mean- ing becomes the determinant factor of mind action. The meaning of a word is not a piece of matter, neither is it a motion. It is something sui generis. I do not say that there is any inexplicable mystery con- nected with it. On the contrary, wonderful as the fact is, it is not mysterious ; it does not stand in contradiction to any other fact of nature. Symbols stand for something ; they indicate, denote, or signify something. This significance is called their meaning ; and mind is a system of symbols in states of awareness.

Now, neither states of awareness are mechanical, nor is the meaning of words anything mechanical. How can we hope for a mechanical explanation either of the soul or the mind or of any mental action?

Suppose, for instance, a general receives a message containing a few words. He opens the paper, he reads it, and all on a sudden, his mind is in a tumult of excitement. What is it that produces the excitement? Is it any motion? Yes! In a certain sense, it is a motion : it is the reading of the paper. This is the cause. Yet not the reading as such excites his consternation. He might read other messages all the day long without any such an effect. Plainly, the causative element of the cause is not the reading, not the motions of which the reading consists, not the shape of the written characters and their combinations in groups, called words. It is something more subtle even than that. It is the significance of the writing. It is the meaning of the written characters. It is the purport that is attached to the word-symbols.

The origin of mind accordingly introduces a factor which has nothing to do with mechanics; and the simplest psychical reflexes,

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. QI

including those physiological reflexes which we must suppose to have originated by conscious adaptation and then been submerged into unconsciousness, cannot be explained from mechanical or physical laws alone.

SPONTANEITY.

While we thus reject the conception of the mechanical philos- ophy and also of materialism, we do not say that there are motions either in the brain or anywhere else which form exceptions to the laws of mechanics. The laws of mechanics hold good for all mo- tions. The laws of mechanics are formal laws : they do not explain why bodies gravitate ; but they describe how they gravitate ; and the latter is much more useful to know than the former. There is (as we conceive it) no deep secret in the problem why bodies gravitate ; they gravitate because they possess a quality which attracts them to each other with a force directly as their masses and inversely as the squares of their distances. In a word, gravity is the intrinsic na- ture of masses, it is an inalienable part of their existence. Thus whenever bodies gravitate, we are confronted with an act of spon- taneity.

Attempts have been made to explain gravitation without the assumption of spontaneity, by the pressure of an atom-surrounding ether. But that only defers the question ; for the spontaneity, in that case, would have to be placed in the ether. Whatever be the merits of the explanations of gravitation by a vis a tergo, we must recognise the fact that no motion can take place in the world, no pressure can be exercised, without there being somewhere some spontaneous something that moves or presses. Spontaneity is a universal feature of nature.

Mr. Peirce uses the term ''spontaneity" in a different sense from ours. He identifies spontaneity with absolute chance. He means by it the irregularities that arise without cause, thus producing departures from law. We call that action spontaneous which is not due to external influence but springs from the nature of the things in action.

Spontaneous is derived from the Latin spons, "will," which as a noun was obsolete at the classical period of Roman literature and

92 THE MONIST.

occurred only in such forms as sponte, " of one's own will, of one's own accord." If a man acts of his own will, free from and not biassed by the influence of other men, his action is spontaneous. A free man's action is not arbitrary, unless arbitrariness * be the character of the man ; it is not an exception to law ; it is, if the character of the man is known, calculable in advance, for every free action is sponta- neous : it springs immediately from the character of the man ; it is the direct expression of his will ; it reveals the nature of his very being, thus showing the man himself, and not something beyond or outside of him.

Taking the word spontaneity in this sense, we say : Masses gravitate spontaneously ; they are self-moving ; their motion is due to their gravity, and gravity is their intrinsic nature.

Exactly as the laws of mechanics explain the " how " of motions but not why there is motion at all, the "why " depending upon the nature of each moving body, so the "how" of the brain-motions is explicable by mechanical laws, but the "why" depends upon the nature of the moving material. The brain-atoms are possessed of the same spontaneity as the atoms of a gravitating stone. Yet there is present an additional feature; there are present states of awareness, and these states of awareness possess meaning, both of which are items which the chemist cannot find by chemical analysis. Neither states of awareness nor their meanings can be weighed on any scales, be they ever so delicate, nor are they determinable in foot-pounds.

Yet while mechanics is not applicable to mental facts, the realm of mentality is by no means to be surrendered to indeterminism. Mr. Peirce describes the domain of mind as the absence of law and the prevalence of absolute chance, of an indetermined and inde- terminable sporting. This is not so. While the fact must be rec- ognised that the nature of the mind is not something mechanical, its action is nevertheless determined by laws — not by mechanical laws,

* Arbitrary, as used here, means capricious, uncertain, unreasonable. A man's action is capricious if he is biassed by the present motive alone, without considering other motives which he would have under other circumstances. A deliberate man equalises, as it were, his actions by forming rules of conduct. An arbitrary man does not recognise rules or laws, made either by himself or by others.

THE IDEA OF NECESSITY. 93

but by psychical and mental laws. These psychical and mental laws are in one respect of exactly the same nature as mechanical laws; they describe the samenesses of certain facts of reality. And the facts of the ideal domain of thought, the facts of subjectivity, are no less