“All men desire the good.” This doctrine, which lay at the root of the ethics and also of a great part of the metaphysics of Greek and mediæval thinkers, is either a truism or a paradox, according to the interpretation we place upon it. Its meaning is far from obvious; it veils a multitude of implications and has given rise to a swarm of misconceptions. It has been assumed that all desire is sub ratione boni; nay more, the good has been defined as the object of universal desire, as “that at which all things aim.” The view that desire is conditioned by prior apprehension of the good has provoked the rejoinder that desires precede consciousness of their end, that cognition is the result of, or at least concomitant with, the conative process which reveals it. Again, it may be asked whether the gooddesired is necessarily my own good, so that its attainment may beconstrued as self-realization; and, if so, whether it is private tomyself or a common good which can be shared with others. Is heereone absolute Good, knowable by man, to which all other goodsare relative? Is it possible to pass beyond what we opine and believeto be good, so as to know and desire what is “really” good?

The treatment of history by philosophers seems to have entered upon a new phase, as regards the questions both what kind of knowledge we are dealing with and what is the relation of the historic experience to reality. As Professor Guido de Ruggiero pointed out in the April number of the Journal, this interest in the problems of history has not received much recognition in English thought at present. It is the purpose of the argument of the present article to maintain that whilst there are two methods of approach to reality, the one through knowledge and speculative thought, the other through history and practical experience, a philosophical interpretation is necessary to the understanding of history, though philosophies of history as usually conceived are not possible. The dualism of experience to which reference is here made is not identical with the dualism with which Professor de Ruggiero is concerned.

In any consideration of the nature of suggestion we cannot omit reference to the extraordinary and startling phenomena which may sometimes be observed in hypnotized subjects. But it would be a mistake to look upon hypnosis as something uncanny, mysterious, and occult. Although we have even yet no thoroughly satisfactory theory of hypnosis, we understand it in general terms, and can bring it into line with other facts and phenomena of psychology known in everyday life. The hypnotic subject, and the phenomena of hypnosis, can be explained firstly in terms of mental dissociation, of the tendency for certain forms of psychical activity to occur independently of the rest of the mind, independently of other considerations; and, secondly, in terms of suggestion, of increased suggestibility. And these two, the phenomenon of dissociation and the phenomenon of suggestibility, are not unrelated to one another. They are related, but not to the extent of being identical with one another. It was the Nancy School of Hypnotism, led by Bernheim, who considered that hypnosis could be explained in terms of suggestibility.

Last year the B.B.C. arranged for certain eminent men to broadcast their Points of View to the public. The result was a most interesting series of talks; but for the sceptical philosopher the series was chiefly entertaining for its brilliantly illustrating the old tag: quot homines, tot sententiæ. One was struck not merely by the discrepancy of opinion, but by how each speaker was ‘true to type': the biologist, the physicist with a taste for spiritualism, the Christian Platonist, and the rest—each spoke his part and told of a world built according to his own particular measuring-rod.

One of the great difficulties in effecting a synthesis of experience is the contradiction of the apparently mechanical character of the physical universe on the one hand, and the sense of freedom we associate with life on the other. In our own persons, we are told by medical science, or some of it, we are governed by physiological laws which are mechanical, as distinct from vital, in their nature. The best reconciliation of these with freedom, in the writer's opinion, is the philosophy of Samuel Butler. In studying freedom as experienced by human beings Butler pointed out that a large number of practices which are apparently mechanical are really habits that have become stereotyped, and he drew attention to the fact that human actions can be classified as follows:—

The business of philosophy is “to think things together,” so far as the reality of things and the capacity of thought allow. That reality presents many contrasts, physical, ethical, metaphysical, light and darkness, life and death, good and evil, right and wrong, the One and the many, the Infinite and the finite, the Eternal and the temporal, and what we mention as last, but not least, for our immediate purpose, Being and Becoming, the Constant and the Contingent. The contrasts need not be regarded as contradictions, negations one of another, as thought the Eleatics with their emphasis on Being, or the Heraclitics with their preference for Becoming. To our immediate scrutiny all stands and all flows may be irreconcilable oppositions; but Einstein is teaching us that there is relativity in all our interpretations of reality. We need not with Indian thought declare Brahma alone real, and all else Maya, illusion.

There are, I imagine, five considerations that will serve as a point d'appui to the future historian of our century's philosophy, aiding him to interpret with fair adequacy the working faith and working postulates of one large and influential group of present thinkers. The members of this group, he will point out, however much they differ in other respects, accept in common and act upon this five-fold assumption, namely, that progress in philosophy depends upon (i) it abandoning its traditional claim to being systematic and final, in favour of “more modest” attempts at the piecemeal solution of particular problems; (ii) these piecemeal attempts being conceived as essentially co-operative undertakings, calling for assistance from men of science no less than from philosophers, so that (iii) the character of philosophical research is broadly not very dissimilar to that of scientific research; that this, in turn, necessitates (iv) an abandonment of the claim to, and the search for, “necessary” and certain knowledge, and an acceptance of knowledge that is probable as rationally sufficing; from all of which it follows, lastly, as something very like a corollary, that (v) philosophers can deal profitably only with “hypothetical questions,” seeking to discover, from certain things provisionally taken as true, what other things may or must also be true. It is by these methodological convictions, by some declared, by others not, that much of the best work in Britain and America during this first third of our century has been inspired.

Summary This survey deals with five books: (i) Ethical Questions, by Moritz Schlick; (ii) Significance, Genuineness, and Love, by Paul Feldkeller; (iii) Neo-Kantian Tasks, by Kurt Sternberg; (iv) Kant's Ethics, by Arthur Liebert; and (v) Contemporary Philosophy of the History of Art, by Walter Passarge