Chapter VIII: Part 8

No, I am not convinced that love has any rivals in the art of individuating, and if not, then to call it that which individuates is to define it completely. But whether it is a deduction from this definition or whether it is an independent element in a fuller definition of love, it must be set down as an important fact about it that love wants the will and desire of the beloved to prevail. It wants the will of another to prevail, and as the easiest and most obvious way of bringing about this result is to yield its own will, it has generally been supposed that love was less the art of individuating than the art of yielding. But this is just the mistake that has prevented love from taking its place among the more seriously meant categories of philosophy and realities of life; for this yielding disposition that might be supposed to make for peace in a republic of lovers is the very matter introducing trouble and perplexity there. It is the very matter that has made traditional Christianity less effective than it might have been, failing where it fails, not because there is anything better to be conceived than its gospel of love, but because it has supposed a good heart and convinced will was enough to bring about its kingdom.

Our two great experiments at loving--the love of man and woman and the love of one’s neighbor--have been too much alike in this, that they both supposed love to be the sort of thing one could fall into and be done with. But it is clear this is not at all the way of the matter, and in our poor imaginings about the lovers’ republic we have been too much guided by our imperfect experience of what our loves have been to think our way into what the love that individuates ought to be. Oh, yes, our love has yielded; its great vice has been its contentment in yielding rather than suffer the labor and unrest of that thinking which alone could have saved its kingdom. In this dear illogical passion for yielding, we have been content with a division of the spoils; one is allowed to give this, the other that; one now, the other then; and so we have patched up our lovers’ quarrel as best we could without logic. But logic, which is supposed to have nothing to do with love and has had little enough to do with the old loves of this world, has everything to do with the love that individuates. For, the moment love begins to be a mutual affair, neither lover has the right to usurp the privilege of giving; else what is left for the other lover to do? Without logic our lovers are doomed to stand bowing to each other before the door of promise till time grows gray.

However, besides logic there is such a thing as bad logic, which is perhaps nothing more than a well-meant half-thoughtfulness in presence of puzzling experience. As a result of this half-thoughtfulness there has sometimes crept a half-reasonableness into the matter we are considering, which would begin by suggesting that the various and contradictory desires of lovers, though equally strong, cannot, save by improbable chance, be equally high and worth while; that, therefore, the logical thing to do would be to let the lower ideal recognize the higher and bow to it, while the higher might somehow forget its longing to give and content its poor heart with being given to.

There are many difficulties in the way of making such an account of the affair persuasive, but there are more serious troubles ahead of anyone who would try to make it meaningful. Chief of these is the hopelessness of defining high and low in the matter of purposes and ideals. Here, once more, Royce is quick to analyze the difficulty and remove it; for, if I read him aright, he sees no way, and no more do I, by which the value of ultimate objects of desire may be compared. It is easy to calculate the better means, but how is one to know the better end? Only this may we do--we may discover that purposes which seem contradictory are not really so, and that neither need sacrifice itself to the other if thought be allowed to work its perfect work. No doubt happiness lies in getting what we want; but this is not the same as getting what we think we want, as capturing what we go after; for our wants are none the less hard to make out because they are our own.

This, then, is thought’s infinitely difficult task in the service of love, to analyze apparent desires until it has found the real want at the core of appearance, while the postulate on which alone the advent of the kingdom becomes possible is that thought may find our real wants not contradictory. The times are not without sign that Christianity as an ethics is coming to realize how very intellectual is the task it has set itself in trying to bring the kingdom of Christ’s vision to be on earth. What Christianity most needs, writes Tennant, is a philosophy.

* * * * *

The brief time we allow ourselves for our utterances ought yet to prove ample for a person of industry and thrift to make himself thoroughly misunderstood; and I hope I have used it to no less purpose on this than on former occasions; but among the misunderstandings I would prevent, if I could, is that which would sum up the matter of my discourse as a defense of _individualism_ against _collectivism_. Such an issue could only be meaningful for one to whom the collectivity was denied some sort of individuality which the “individual” enjoys. But I have tried to show that I could conceive no such difference between the mind of the part and the mind of the group. The group mind may be loved with the human love that individuates, as well as can the soul of a fellow-man; and no doubt one may love one’s country as a mistress. But the difference between the love of equals and the love of constituents is plain. The latter sort of love can last only so long as its object endures, and as long as it lasts its sacrifices are incurable; for in a world that has conquered strife there would no longer be that contradiction between the will of a group and the will of its parts, which alone makes the group entity meaningful. Groups bound in mutual respect of each other and studying to preserve their parts irreplaceable _have no minds_; the entity born of struggle and calling for sacrifice has simply disappeared; where we had a group mind, we have now but an aggregate of minds, “a fluid complex of relations among individuals.” But the love of equals can push on toward the ideal without destroying the very object of its devotion; it can go on searching the core of concord in the stupid appearance of discord until love has found a way to make loyalty a lost virtue and a group mind a thing that is no more.

XI

RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT

When I had gathered together the pages in which for a time I had been living with these men whose thought had been so real a thing to me, who one by one had said their word and left it to live or die according as men’s hearts received it, I was as though suddenly and newly aware of the great modern city without pressing on my window-panes. Little by little its vast insistent presence seemed to push my whilom companions out of the room of being back to their places among the many silent dead. For indeed, I reflected, how few, how vanishingly small a number of those who are out there will be better, worse or different for anything these lives had spent themselves to gain and to give.

If such thoughts came to me, as to any one they might, must they not have come often and often to those of whom I have been telling? and must not these men have been seized at times with a wistful sense of the humor of their situation? If so, what gave them courage to keep on and to endure until the end? Was it that by some fatality they were bond-slaves to the remote, from whose dominance they could not, even if they would, have freed themselves? For one may suppose that all men, even philosophers, are human enough sometimes to crave the response of their fellows to the effort of their lives; the recognition not merely of some few initiated ones, but of the many or of those who represent the many by the simplicity of their thought. Must not many a one whose labor was with the stars have stopped on his way to envy some singer at the street-corner whose trivial melody had caught the ear and held the steps of passers-by? What reasoning then, or what destiny carried our star-gazer on to his lonely vigil?

You may say, the psychology of the man who thinks of cosmic things is simple and that his steadfastness is due to his inability to realize or his ability to forget the homely intimate things of life that to the rest of us are, if not important, yet all the more indispensable. To this I answer: ’tis unlikely! But whether true or not of any of those whose thoughts must seem (if I have not entirely failed to render them) so much our own, let it not be true of us!

I mean, that no one can think of himself as likely to enrich the world so greatly by his thought and labor that he may count himself to be or encourage himself to become a soul solitary to its toil. Which, being so of our lives as a whole, we frequently feel and wholesomely feel that it is not very well for us to indulge even moments of these lives in studies and reflections so detached from all the give and take of our other time as to leave no trace of influence there.

Perhaps indeed it cannot be said of any of our momentary flights away from familiar things that we come back from them with no star-dust on our wings, and so these spirit holidays may be excused as may any other holiday on the ground of their quickening and refreshment. But little as I would quarrel with holidays of any kind, and satisfied as I should be had any one found these pages opening to him a door to some fourth dimension where momentary exhilaration or passing forgetfulness might be found, yet I have the feeling that holidays are but a poor imperfect device for making other days more livable.

In these last reflections, I am sensible that I have been clumsily feeling my way to the asking of a question. It is this: May we not bring the experience of the most thoughtful men of the centuries that have gone before so to bear in our daily living that it will no longer be noble, because no longer necessary, to scorn delights and live laborious days (save holidays)? May not these men have been the prophets of that mediation which will make labor and delight one thing? May it not be possible for us after their leading so to live and strive in the moment that more and more of the whole toward which it tends may be felt in it? And this whole, the while, will it not come so to be conceived that its real presence in the crumb of bread and drop of wine may make of our daily partaking a sacrament as bright as it is enduring?

If so, and, as it seems to me, only if so, will these thinkers about the whole have found that for which they seemed to waste their being--the response of the man living the moment, which is everyman. Then will we the studious have brought back from our wanderings with these “souls of men outworn” something more than ineffable things and memories of dreams dreamt with them. To men bound for the most part to live the moment, that moment would not have lost its throbbing intimacy because it had lost its solitude.

Now of all desirable things, one may feel and in a poor fashion of words try to tell how desirable they are, without having much hope of securing them for himself or of being able to offer them to others. But it cannot be a bad way to begin winning something for oneself at least by enriching one’s reflection with all the stored experience of history. And as history is not always easy to gather, it is at least a generous impulse to tell of what is to be found there a little more simply and compendiously than others have cared to tell it. Which done--and the doing of it has that peculiar quality of giving to the labor of the moment its sense of participation--it is time to look about one with one’s own eyes.

What under such circumstances the private eye, turning from the past and peering into the future, thinks it sees there, might well be kept private for all the authority it can have and for all the interest it may have for another. Each will have his own vision of the horizon. But it has never been found that the truth is in the end better made out by each holding his own counsel as to what he timidly thinks he descries there. No, out of the confusion of many witnesses comes what little we have guessed or can hope to guess of truth, and no less of that truth which, because it deals with the tie that binds the least with the greatest of things, I venture to call religious.

* * * * *

In these pages, little or no mention has been made of those great historic religions in whose name temples and cathedrals have been built, and throngs have been moved to worship and to war. This neglect has not been due to indifference: it will perhaps have been felt that these matters were present to the writer as the background against which the thought of the philosophers had to be portrayed if we were to gain insight into their motives and meanings. But our study was to be of those who had given reasons for the faith that was in them, or it might be for their lack of faith. This, the great swaying mass of humanity cannot be expected to do, and if the learned and thoughtful of its various communions have constantly tried to do it for their fellows, these studious devout minds are led by the very diligence of their reflection to interpret the formulas of the throng in a way the throng could not understand. Thus they too become philosophers, and for the depth and learning of their thought are as interesting as any of those here presented. It would be hard to find in history a clearer and more judicious mind than Thomas Aquinas.

But because these theologians are in modern times the exponents of religious views that are widely spread in some manifest form or other, we may assume that they are familiar figures in the thoughts of men of our day and civilization. Wherefore it is of others, churchless and alone, with nothing but their personal writings to make their views known, yet religious in the object of their inquiry and in the conduct of their thought, that I have chosen to speak.

The immense dialectic of the thought of these men has presented so many aspects of the religious problem that it must have left in the reader a sense of confusion if not of bewilderment. Such a baffled mood comes on every thoughtful student, not once, but again and again, as he reviews the past and tries to estimate the value of its gain; to consider what has definitely perished with its time, what perhaps marks development and points somewhither.

Let me then suggest as well as may be done in a few words some things these men have put behind them and some things to which, with all their mutual opposition, they seem resultantly to point.

* * * * *

In the first place, their common assumption has been that the way of arriving at religious truth was by reason or experience, not by what is commonly called “revelation.” There is nothing new or modern in this attitude of mind. The earliest critics of popular religion share the feeling that (as Xenophanes wrote, in the sixth century B.C.):

By no means at the beginning did the gods reveal all things to mortals, But mortals themselves, by inquiry, in time have made gradual progress.

And even among those who did not mean to be critics, we find some devoutly maintaining that divine revelation brings naught that reason and experience cannot confirm; naught, then, they could not have reached: “Non alia est philosophia, _i.e._, sapientiae studium, et alia religio,” writes John Scotus in the ninth century. “Quid est aliud de philosophia tractare nisi verae religionis regulas exponere? Conficitur inde veram esse philosophiam veram religionem conversimque veram religionem esse veram philosophiam.” (_De praedest. proem._)

But those who from revelation turn to _reason_ and those who turn to _experience_ for evidence in all matters, are of two different tempers of mind and habits of thought. The first we found represented in Spinoza with his _Ethica ordine geometrico demonstrata_; the second in Hume with his methods of natural history and human history.

Of these two schools, I think we may regard the first as definitely closed. That is, to establish the existence of God by logic alone and as a necessity of thought, would only be dreamed of today by those who meant by God, by logic, and by thought’s necessity something quite different from anything the seventeenth century rationalist could have meant by those terms.

Yet to say that the _method_ of a Spinoza is dead, is not to say that his contribution to the spiritual problems with which he dealt is naught. Nothing could be more important to our whole attitude toward these problems than Spinoza’s insight: The scientific demand that we treat nature as an inviolable mechanism and the ethical demand that the human element in nature remain a free agent _are consistent_. It can readily be seen that all the rest of one’s thoughts about the world must hang upon one’s acceptance or non-acceptance of this reconciliation of mechanical necessity and living freedom. (It must not be supposed, however, that all later thought was agreed that Spinoza had effected this reconciliation; perhaps the present writer is without company in thinking that Spinoza’s indications in this sense may be followed to a clear and satisfactory issue.)

If the method of rationalism has lost meaning for us, do we then abide in the confidence that experimental science must find all that is to be found of an object for religion to attach itself to? To my thinking, no! Or rather, the meaning of experience and with it of empirical science has been so altered by later reflection that the relation between human desire and human finding is no longer conceived to be that austere separation which a Hume, a Clifford or a Huxley made the basis of intellectual honesty and even of moral honor.

There is nevertheless one result of the empirical philosophy which it is hard to believe we shall ever set aside. Whatever we may have come to think experience means, those who have once entered into the spirit of these clear thinkers will not lightly abandon the idea that _experience is one_. There is not for most of us one kind of experience that confirms the law of falling stones and revolving planets, another unrelated kind that gives us a sympathetic but inarticulate insight into life and its ways, and yet another which in incomparable theophanies reveals to us another world. In a word, empiricism has taught us to accept the postulate that whatever the nature of our beliefs, their meaning must be communicable, their evidence must be demonstrable by one to another.

What has happened to change things since Hume’s day is, first of all, just a deeper searching into the meaning of experience itself, with perhaps this finding: that the reality our empirical science reveals to us is not merely a thing found and received but also _a thing willed and made_. Kantian criticism it was that suggested the part played by the knower in the formation of the thing known. This knower was not merely informed by experience as to the world he had chanced on, but of himself he informed his world. Imperfect, disconnected and unconvincing as were Kant’s efforts to state and illustrate this conception, it is nevertheless to him that one turns for the first suggestion of that idealism whose more recent expressions have been illustrated in the chapter on Pragmatism.

Meanwhile, really unaffected by this development of method are Schopenhauer’s gloomy findings and Nietzsche’s exaltation of the might of man. Just as the facts of life as he observed it left Hume unable to point to anything in experience that could guide life religiously, so these facts as Schopenhauer more fully took them in left life irreligious and blind. Again, it was but what he took to be a broader experience that led Nietzsche to conceive the destiny and perfectability of life to lie within the control of life itself, and it is only a still broader view of experience that robs this philosophy for us of what inspiration it had and leaves it but a gospel of gritting-the-teeth.

Yet we may not lay aside these two “findings” regarding life without noting how deeply each has seen into the human heart. If the insight of each is directly contradictory to the insight of the other, it is because the human heart is in contradiction with itself.

It can listen, this heart of man, to the voice of Schopenhauer crying for peace. It can understand this voice even to the point of feeling that the peace of those who have ceased to be is happier than the being of those who have lost hope of peace. Not indeed for us is the “melius est ipsum esse quam non esse” of older simpler times.

But on the other hand, Nietzsche would not make the appeal he does if man did not shrink from every vision of peace that has ever been offered to him, as from something worse than nonentity. Indeed we “envy not the dead that rest....

“What peace could ever be to me
The joy that strives with strife?”

* * * * *

Thus it would seem that the philosophy which alone can bring to pass that gladness of the moment which comes not from its content, but from what there is mixed in it of fulfilment and of promise--that philosophy must give validity to two theses:

(1) Reality must in all its aspects be shown to be such a thing as human effort may make and mould.

(2) This effort must set before itself an ideal in which are consistently included all that is genuine in the old ideals calling themselves Peace and War.

If the first of these theses was the topic of the chapter on Pragmatism, the second was that which inspired the conception of Progress. Only if to each moment of life there is vividly present the sense that it is a moment of creation, and equally present a satisfaction in the vision of what is to be created, can the moment be a joyous one. Not joyous in a way to wring from us a “Verweile doch! du bist so schön!” But joyous with that quality which would let our _Ave_ be a welcome to the hoped for, our _Vale_ a benediction on a promise left behind.

* * * * *

If our Modern Thinkers have done aught to help us so to pass a moment, why, so, let them pass.

Finis

INDEX

à Kempis, Schopenhauer and, 167.

Amiel, 217.

amoralist, 274, 276.

Antigone, 264.

_a posteriori_, 105.

_a priori_, 105, 137.

Aquinas, 24, 308.

Aristotle, 24, 25, 89, 289, 290.

art, and the universal, 170-172;
individuates, 294-296.

asceticism, Schopenhauer on, 176-178.

assent, Newman’s “Grammar of,” 242.

_aviditas vitae_, Huxley’s, 205.

Bacon, Francis, 57, 104, 247, 248.

Balfour, 246, 247.

beautiful, Schopenhauer’s theory of the, 170-172.

Berti, _Vita di Giordano Bruno_, 11.

body, and mind, 45, 46.

Bourdeau, J., 241, 242.

Bourdeau, L., 223-226.

Bourget, “Le Disciple,” 68-95.

Brahminism, Schopenhauer and, 167.

Browning, 203.

Bruno, iii,
Mocenigo’s denunciation of, 3-8;
trial at Venice, 9-18;
recantation, 18;
new astronomy, 18-21;
ethical and religious consequences, 21-26;
“new philosophy,” pantheism, 29-31;
Schoppius on sentence and execution of, 33-34;
and Spinoza, 39, 40; 197.

Buddhism, Schopenhauer and, 167, 178, 179, 189.

cannibals, Melville on, 251-253;
Montaigne on, 253-256.

categorical, good, _ought_, see imperative.

Christianity, Kant and, 146, 147;
Schopenhauer and, 167;
Nietzsche and, 187, 206;
its intellectual task, 300.

civilization, a decadence, 257, 258.

Clifford, 312.

Clough, 228.

Coleridge, Mary, 314.

Copernicus, 20, 21.

Croce, 288, 290.

Cusanus, Nicolaus, 288, 291.

Dante, his world, 22.

Darwin, influence on Nietzsche, 193-195.

Decalogue, 137.

Descartes, and Spinoza, 41-45; 104, 267.

determinism, Spinoza’s, 40, 45, 46, 53-55, 67, 69-78, 310, 311;
of mechanical ideal, 82-84.

disciple, Bourget’s “Le Disciple,” 68;
problem and plot in relation to Spinoza, 69-78;
discussion of problem, mechanism, purpose, and freedom, 81-92;
outcome, 92-95.

empiricism, 104-107, 311, 312.

Epictetus, 280.

Epicurus, “Garden of,” 22; 99, 112.

Ethica, _ordine geometrico demonstrata_, 39, 310.

evolution, Nietzsche and doctrine of organic, 193-195.

Fichte, 67, 149, 154, 159.

Flaubert, 168, 294, 295.

France, Anatole, contrasts ancient and modern worlds, 22, 23, 168;
on realism in history, 223-226; 266, 294, 295.

freedom, consistent with mechanism, 53-55, 84-92;
Kant on, 140.

Fourlians, morality of, 120-123.

geometry, ethics after manner of, 39; 42, 43, 45, 310.

Gierke, 291.

God, ontological proof of, 43, 44;
Kant, 131, 142-146, 148-149;
“is dead,” 185-187.

Goethe, 315.

good, the, see imperative; 261-273.

_Gottrunkener_, Spinoza _ein_, 52.

Gourmont, Remy de, 275.

group, mind of, 288-292, 301.

Hardy, 168, 169.

Hegel, 149, 159.

Heine, 215.

Hobbes, 104, 268-272.

humanity, Hume on, 126.

Hume, personality, 100-104;
inheritance of empiricism, 104-107;
on experience _vs._ miracles, 107-112;
on Providence and Future State, 112-115;
on Natural Religion, reasons for vacillation, 115-119;
on problem of morals and definition of virtue, 119-125;
on virtue and happiness, 125-127; 227, 228, 266, 267, 311, 312.

Huxley, his “_aviditas vitae_,” 205; 312.

hypothetical, good, _ought_, see imperative.

ideal, mechanical, 82-84;
teleological, 89;
of progress, 281.

idealism, German, 29; 219.

immortality, Kant on, 140, 141.

imperative, Kant on hypothetical and categorical, 131-137; 261-263.

individuation, effected by love, 143-145, 293, 294, 296-299;
effected by art, 294-296.

Inquisition, Bruno before the Holy, 3-18, 33.

Jesus, Nietzsche’s conception of, 189, 197-200.

James, see Pragmatism.

John Scotus, 310.

Kant, iv, 67;
attitude toward religion, 131;
on imperatives, 131-137;
on presuppositions of morality, 137-146;
postulates freedom, immortality, God, 146-150;
moral law, first formulation, 151-152;
second formulation, 152, 153;
on harmony of wills, 153, 154; 187, 261-263, 312.

law, mechanical and teleological, 86-92, 117-119.

Leconte de Lisle, 229.

Leibnitz, 29, 233.

Leviathan, Hobbes’s, 268-272.

Locke, 104.

logic, and ethics, 42, 43;
and love, 297-300.

Loisy, l’Abbé, 242.

Louÿs, Pierre, 153.

love, individuates, 143-145, 293, 294, 296-299;
and logic, 297-300.

loyalty, defines morality, 268, 274;
defined, 288-290.

Lucretius, 99, 165, 186.

Mach, Ernst, 216.

Marcus Aurelius, 212.

Maupassant, 168, 294, 295.

mechanism, Spinoza on, 40, 45, 46, 53-55, 67, 69-78, 310, 311;
ideal of, 82-84;
consistent with purpose and freedom, 53-55, 84-92.

Melville, Herman, on Typees, 251-253.

mind, and body, 45, 46;
group, 288-292, 301.

miracles, Hume’s treatment in “Enquiry,” 107-110.

Mocenigo, his denunciation of Bruno, 3-8.

modernism, and pragmatism, 241-244.

Montaigne, v, 253-256.

morality, Kant’s law of, 151-153;
proposed as absolute good, 263-268;
questioned as absolute good, 268-272;
reformed, 274, 275;
discarded, 275, 276.

nature, man in state of, 251-258, 269-271;
conquest of, 279-281.

Newman, 242.

New Testament, Kant and, 146.

Nicolaus, of Cusa, 291.

Nietzsche, iv;
key-note of, 185;
historic comparisons with, 185-188;
and Schopenhauer, 188-193;
and Darwin, 193-195;
on superman as goal, 195;
on transvaluation, 195-199;
on genealogy of morals, 199-204;
on anarchy, 204-205;
on will to power, 205-207;
on eternal returning, 208-211;
vanishing goal, 211, 212;
on courage, 212;
on scientific spirit, 231-233; 276, 313, 314.

ought, see imperative.

Old Testament, world of, 139, 146.

parallelism, 45, 46.

Pascal, 27, 149, 242.

_Pascendi_, Encyclical, 241.

philosophers, Nietzsche’s estimate of, 199.

pietism, influence on Kant, 146.

pity, a vice, 187-189.

Plato, 89, 288, 293, 294.

pragmatism, v;
relation to realism and idealism, 215-219;
James’s first presentation of, 219, 220;
reaction of realists against, 220-230;
Nietzsche and, 231-234;
“Will to Believe,” 234-239;
and modernism, 240-244, and ‘human’ religion, 244-245;
physical science and ideals of, 245, 246, 315.

progress, v;
skeptics of, 251-261;
conditional and absolute, 261-262;
toward moral good held absolute, 263-268;
morality proves conditional good, 268-273;
as viewed by reformed morality and by amorality, 273-276;
and conflicting ideals of peace and war, 277;
final definition of, 277-281.

Providence, Hume on “Particular,” 112-115.

purpose, consistent with mechanism, 53-55, 84-92.

quakerism, German, 146.

Rabelais, 153.

rationalism, of Descartes, 41-45, 104.

realism, 218;
in science, 221;
in history, 222-226;
in ethics, 227;
in religion, 228, 240-242;
in art, 228, 229.

religion, “Natural History of,” 110;
Kant’s attitude toward, 131;
identified with philosophy, 310.

Rousseau, 258.

Royce, 157, 267, 285, 287, 289, 293.

Schelling, 149, 159.

Scherer, on Amiel, 217.

Schopenhauer, iv, 154;
“World as Will,” 158-161;
on universal strife, 162-167;
forerunners, 167, 168;
followers, 168, 169;
on suicide, 169, 170;
on the beautiful, 170-172;
on civil law, 172-173;
on moral intuition, 173-175;
on denial of will, 175-178;
on Nirvana, 178-181;
and Nietzsche, 186-193; 313, 314.

Schopp, letter describing Bruno’s trial and execution, 31-34.

Spinoza, iv;
family, life, death, 39;
and Bruno, 39, 40;
and Descartes, 40-46;
on popular theology, 46-51;
_ein Gottrunkener_, 52;
purpose and freedom, 53-55;
knowledge goodness, happiness, 55-63; 104, 187, 310, 311.

suicide, Schopenhauer on, 169-170.

superman, iv, 195, 196, 205, 208.

super-superman, iv, 208.

sympathy, Hume on, 126;
Schopenhauer on, 173-175;
Nietzsche on, see pity.

Tasso, 259, 263.

teleology, see purpose.

Tennant, 300.

tragedy, Schopenhauer’s conception of, 158, 168, 169.

Typees, of Melville, 251-253.

Ulysses, morality of, 265.

utility, Hume on, 125;
“Why Pleases,” 126.

Van den Ende, Francis, 41.

Venice, Bruno before tribunal at, 9-18.

will, to live, see Schopenhauer;
to power, see Nietzsche;
to believe, see pragmatism.

Xenophanes, 186, 309.

FOOTNOTES

[1] This would be Saturday afternoon.

[2] A curious ignorance of the content of the “Spaccio!” There are numerous other faults of detail in this account.

[3] Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, XII.

[4] This image of the Old Testament World is not of course supposed to be that of the ancient Hebrews. Rather does it represent this world as reflected in the thought of a modern Christian community.

[5] The individuating quality of love is again discussed in Chap. X, on “Love and Loyalty.”

[6] The exact wording: “Handle so, dass die Maxime deines Willens jederzeit zugleich als Princip einer allgemeinen Gesetzgebung gelten könne.” K. d. p. V., 1, 1, 1.

[7] Cf: “In der ganzen Schöpfung kann alles was man will, und vorüber man etwas vermag, auch _bloss als Mittel_ gebraucht werden; nur der Mensch ... _Ist Zweck an sich selbst_.... Eben um dieser willen ist jeder Wille ... auf die Bedingung der Einstimmung mit der _Autonomie_ des vernünftigen Wesens eingeschränkt, es nämlich keiner Absicht zu unterwerfen, die nicht nach einem Gesetze, welches aus dem Willen des leidenden Subjects selbst entspringen könnte, möglich ist....” K. d. p. V., 1, 1, 3.

[8] Pierre Louÿs.

[9] Royce.

[10] Abridged.

[11] Abridged.

[12] Gesammelte Briefe, p. 61.

[13] Ibid., p. 170.

[14] Pragmatism, p. 104.

[15] Anatole France.

[16] The meaning and value of “loyalty” is more fully discussed in Chap. X, on “Love and Loyalty.”

[17] The paper on “Love and Loyalty” was written for the American Philosophical Association at its Philadelphia meeting in 1915. The occasion was peculiarly dedicated to Royce in honor of his sixtieth birthday. The author’s thanks are due to Professor J. E. Creighton for his courteous permission to reprint from the Philosophical Review, XXV, 3, and from the volume “Papers in Honor of Josiah Royce, etc.,” 1922.

[Transcriber’s note: German, French and Latin text is transcribed as is, without correction of possible printing errors. Repeated chapter titles have been removed (those on the same page as the chapter start).]