tation of Matter and Space; for is it not a "contradiction of fundamental experiences of sense or intuition" to say that Matter and Space are separately ultimate or irreducible facts; or, again, to postulate an unknowable object of thought. The author himself admits, somewhat naïvely, that "the application of this rule requires great tact and accurate knowledge "; and the question very naturally arises whether the possession of this "tact and accurate knowledge" would not include that of the "rule for philosophizing." We doubt whether Lewes, if teaching philosophy, would begin with abstract rules.' Considered as feats of abstract reasoning, these fifteen rules cannot but be admired; but as it would be difficult to find two persons who would agree on the significance of the terms employed in them, they can hardly be considered as aids to the study of philosophy.

In the treatise on Psychological Principles, which follows. the Rules of Philosophizing, Lewes tells us that it would be premature to attempt a systematic treatise on Psychology, as there are important metaphysical and biological questions still open which it is essential first to have settled. In a word, Lewes, who at the time of this writing was perhaps one of the best-prepared men, if not the best, to deal with. the science of Psychology, frankly admits that he lacks some of the most important materials for the undertaking. This is in contrast with some writers who have built up imposing and complicated systems of psychology in apparent innocence of the fundamental difficulty of the subject.

It is, therefore, with renewed confidence and interest that we approach what Lewes calls a "sketch of the programme of Psychology." He begins with the now familiar assertion that Man is not simply an Animal Organism, he is also a unit in a Social Organism. Then comes a citation of the starting-point of psychology, namely, Consciousness. Psychology, we are told, occupies itself with the study of the

"The supreme importance of an education is directed toward the development of aptitudes by their effective exercise rather than by the inculcation of rules."-Lewes, "Problems of Life and Mind," vol. I., p. 109.

factors of Consciousness. Consciousness is a fact beyond which the psychologist is not obliged to look. It is the fact from which he elaborates his science and for which he is not obliged to account.

As the biologist accepts Life as an ultimate fact, or the physicist builds his science on the principle of Force, neither being required to explain what these initial facts of their respective sciences are; as the mathematician does not concern himself with what "Quantity, Space, and Time are"; so the psychologist is not obliged to tell us what Consciousness is. Here in the very beginning is that metaphysical question the settlement of which Lewes so keenly felt the need of; and here we must disagree with him in his assertion that the psychologist is not called upon to explain what Consciousness really is. We can easily imagine a mathematician content to follow the relations of numbers and quantities without being able to explain whence these principles spring; we can imagine a physicist dealing with problems of the correlations of forces without feeling the necessity of knowing the universal principle which these forces declare; we can even understand a biologist spending a lifetime in the study of the interdependencies of organic life without being able to tell how these activities which he witnesses in every organism are affiliated with the same activities which he sees in other directions relatively unorganized; but we cannot imagine a psychologist prosecuting the study of the functions and structure of the mind without feeling the necessity of knowing what Consciousness is, without feeling powerless to proceed in the absence of a knowledge of the nature of Perception. I do not mean to infer that great progress in psychology is not possible without this knowledge, for great progress in this science has already been made; but I deny that any psychologist can make himself clearly understood in the principles of his science without first comprehending the relation of mental to universal activity,-without being able to affiliate the principle involved in intelligence with other known principles, the relation of knowledge to organic

life, and organic to universal life; in a word, without solving, at the very outset of his exposition, the metaphysical problem. How can a psychology be clearly understood which teaches that mind is a function of an organism, that the organism is material, and still that matter is an ultimate fact? If matter is an ultimate fact, what is the activity of matter which is called mind? There can be but one ultimate fact, and it must be universal. If, on the contrary, activity, life, or motion, is acknowledged to be the ultimate fact, and matter subordinate to it, a phase or aspect of it, materialism vanishes and life and mind become a living reality, an understood fact. With this simple theory the vexed question of Object and Subject is resolved. The relation called gravitation, suggesting activities which are infinite, those subtle chemical energies, the signatures of the still uncombined elements, the adjustments of the primitive organism to its environment, the evolution of sensibility, feeling, and thought, from these lower orders of activity, rises before us, an unbroken interdependence of cause and effect. Human intelligence, which is taxed to its utmost to comprehend the proportions of this truth, is recognized as an expression of individuality, of the moving limits of personal existence; and a glimpse of the difference between the human and the divine, the anthropomorphic and the universal, is obtained.

It will be interesting, therefore, to follow Lewes through his programme of Psychology, and to observe how he manages to meet the difficulties of his subject without the aid of that ultimate analysis so essential to an understanding of Mind.

CHAPTER XIV.

GEORGE HENRY LEWES (CONTINUED).

The Principles of Psychology.

WE now enter upon the most original and instructive portions of Lewes' philosophy. His deep study of the sensorium of animals and of man has enabled him to carry us dry-shod through that dismal swamp, the analysis of mind from its physical side. Timid and conventional thinkers have systematically avoided this route in their journeyings, -they have looked at the map, heard of the difficulties and dangers of the way, and turned aside. On the whole, they are to be congratulated for their prudence; although it cannot be denied that this prudence has led them to miss some of the deepest and most stirring truths of life.

To explain the wonders of the intellect by a supernatural principle is convenient, but it is not, in the best sense, philosophical. This method may appear satisfying to our ideal nature, but it partakes more of sentiment than of thought; yet like many a sentiment, it has held in view exalted truths. until the slow methods of science have reached and verified them.

The intellectual and moral life of man cannot be explained by a biological analysis. The operations of the mind cannot be successfully described as simply the activities of a personal organism, for the meaning of the word organism has to be vastly extended before it can account for the immeasurable difference between mere sentiency, and thought. The wonders of organic development, as the phrase is scientifically used, are utterly incapable of explaining a moral intuition, an intellectual conception, or a reli

gious sentiment. To fill in this break, however, in the chain of cause and effect by the interposition of a "supernatural principle" is only a makeshift; it lacks all the dignity that belongs to careful thought.

Although analysis is the instrument by which this logical discrepancy has been removed, it has also been the indirect cause of the delay in arriving at a rational solution of the problem of Mind. Impressions, or simple perceptions, are by their nature composite. In ascending a mountain, we measure the distance into steps, but we are at the same time building up a synthesis which we will call an ascension. When we have reached the summit, we view the journey as a single fact; but it was effected by an analysis, and the synthesis was accomplished as the analysis progressed. Thus analysis and synthesis are interdependent processes. The analyst or scientist, disdainfully refusing to be beguiled with the synthetic splendors of the mind, has steadfastly devoted himself to the physical procedures which have made these splendors possible. He has surveyed the route while others have enjoyed the scenery. The scientist has known all along that these intellectual wonders have been reached through sequences with which, in less extended vistas, he is perfectly familiar. He has known all along that sentiency is the activity of an organism, and that thought has depended absolutely upon this foundation for all its achievements. But in his laudable endeavors to extend definite knowledge so that it might encompass the ideal, he has neglected an obscure and involved factor in mental or spiritual development. It is this factor which explains the difference between human and merely animal life. As we accomplish distances by measuring off progressions which are determined by our powers of locomotion, so we apprehend situations by combining partial views, which are determined by our perceptive faculties. The more thorough the analysis, the more truthful is the conception formed, providing we are careful to replace in the synthetic view all the products of the analysis. In proportion to the number of neglected factors our concep