QUESTIONS214. What does not, and what does, cause man to populate the whole world with demons and specters?215. What is the chief division applied by man to the hosts of demons? Do the contents of these divisions tend to change gradually?216. How does priesthood originate?217. Is it probable that religion will ever cease to exist?218. What are the consequences of the fact that prayer and sacrifice are not always successful?219. How does the growth of morality influence religion?220. Is science inimical to all religion or to special forms of religion?221. What are the three illustrations given in the text for the difficulties arising from the attachment of science to religion?222. What is illustrated in the text by the quotation “throne and altar”?
QUESTIONS
214. What does not, and what does, cause man to populate the whole world with demons and specters?
215. What is the chief division applied by man to the hosts of demons? Do the contents of these divisions tend to change gradually?
216. How does priesthood originate?
217. Is it probable that religion will ever cease to exist?
218. What are the consequences of the fact that prayer and sacrifice are not always successful?
219. How does the growth of morality influence religion?
220. Is science inimical to all religion or to special forms of religion?
221. What are the three illustrations given in the text for the difficulties arising from the attachment of science to religion?
222. What is illustrated in the text by the quotation “throne and altar”?
The second class of the evils which we mentioned as resulting from our foreseeing activities consists in an insufficient occupation of the active tendencies of the mind. The remedy is found in art, in the enjoyment of works of art.
A work of art may cause a pleasant feeling by inciting any of a large number of mental activities. Beyond giving pleasure it has no purpose. Choice articles of food, new clothes, a profession yielding a good income, give us pleasure through their odor, their look, through the standing they give us in good society. But they please us also, and indeed chiefly, through their purposes: we need them for our existence. Because of their purposes they do not give us pure pleasure: they make us want better food, better clothes, a better position. A work of art, on theother hand, may in some way further our life; but he who enjoys it is not aware of such a furtherance. He sees no purpose in it. He experiences a bliss of heaven, not pleasures of the world. The purpose of art consists in its own unity; it does not draw us away from where we are. It gives us rest while it keeps us active. The pleasure resulting from this kind of activity is called esthetic pleasure.
Many are the origins of art. Religion is doubtless one of them. Primitive man conceived of some of the most important of his demons as having their seats in certain species of animals. The possession of these animals gives witchcraft. But it is difficult to carry them about, and killing them is of course out of the question. Primitive reasoning then accepted an image, a picture, as having about the same effectiveness. So man came to carve such pictures on his weapons to make them stronger, to carry them hung around his neck to protect him, to make idols of his gods which he could visibly reward or punish. The pleasure of seeing these images then gave them a value separate from their religious applications. Yet pictures of the virgin and of saints still continue to be used for the earlier purpose. When thus beginning to be separated from religion, art became again attached to it; for man, enjoying pictures, offered them as presents to his gods, so that they, too, might enjoy them. The subject of representation was naturally the gods themselves, the most sublime subject known to man.
Another origin of art is play. We said that play is that mass of instincts, common to man and animals, which brings about an exercise of the capacities necessary for preservation at a time when no special purposes demand such exercise. In this absence of a special purpose consiststhe ultimate relation of play and art. But play is not identical with art, because it is still too serious a matter. The boy who plays robber and police is not like an actor playing the rôle of a robber. He really is the robber so far as the advantages, the freedom, and the power of a robber are concerned; and he enjoys these advantages, while the actor does not even think of them. The actor, even while playing the rôle of a king, desires to play the king, not to be the king. Play, that is, the instinctive activity of play, is intermediate between art and life, a gateway to the former.
There are still further sources of art. After having been successful in his struggle, when he has some leisure, man observes that many things which he uses as weapons, as tools, for food, and so on, are capable of giving him pleasure quite aside from their practical significance. He therefore obtains these things for their own sake. He collects brilliantly colored feathers, glittering stones and pearls. The instinctive reactions upon pleasant experiences are discovered to be pleasant themselves. They are voluntarily repeated. Thus dance and song originate. In a similar manner, from the descriptions of ordinary life, tales takes their origin. Symmetry and rhythm are discovered and become of the greatest importance for the various arts. In spite of the manifoldness of its origin and its application, we may speak of art in the singular, because all the different arts have this in common, that they give joy without serving any conscious purpose.
In every art three factors may be distinguished on which the feeling aroused in us depends: the subject-matter or content, the form, and the personal significance. If the work of art is a picture, it may represent a battle or a landscape; if a poem, the wanderings of Ulysses or thestory of the Erlking; if music, a waltz or a funeral march. This subject-matter is given a particular form or structure. The twelve disciples of the Last Supper may be placed in a simple row or arranged in groups of various kinds. A church may be built in Roman or Gothic style. Meter and rhyme differ in various poems. Music may be harmonized in many different ways. All this refers to the form of art. The third factor, the personal significance, may be illustrated by the different moods which speak to us from pictures of the same subject-matter and similar form, also by the technique chosen by the painter. The picture may appear to me as an assembly of Jewish fishermen or as an historical act in which the disciples of the Lord and he himself take part.
Much could be said about all this in detail. Some important insight into the relation of the different factors can be obtained from a discussion of the first one, the subject-matter. How does the artist succeed in giving us, through his subject-matter, pleasure independent of and free from any consciousness of purpose? Two ways are open to him. The first appears most clearly in music. It consists in using contents which play no part in the world of needs. Musical tones, sung or produced by instruments, do not contribute to the preservation of man; and therefore they do not incite our desire. However, when properly combined, they are capable of arousing the most varied and intense feelings, moods, emotions. They are thus especially adapted to serve as material, as contents, of a work of art.
The second way open to the artist consists in imitation. It prevails in painting and sculpture, and one may say also in poetry. The contents of these arts, that is, the subjects described, are indeed things which arouse our desires.But the desire is cut short through imitation. Not the real things, but only descriptions of them, are furnished us. Their affective value is not diminished thereby. It is true, the feelings depending on the consciousness of purpose are lost; but the rest of the feelings attain thus a purity and intensity all the greater. We scarcely enjoy meeting a robber on the highway; on the stage or in a novel we enjoy it the more. The real rug gives me feelings of a mixed kind when I think of its price and its durability; the painted rug gives me only pleasure. Since imitation is so conspicuous in the three arts of painting, sculpture, and poetry, it has been mistaken to be the aim of our artistic activity, whereas it is only a means to an end, to the production of pleasure free from desire. To understand this still more clearly, we must give attention to three aspects of the problem of imitation.
First, imitation must be as true to nature as possible. Feelings are to be aroused. These feelings are originally attached to the real things. It is clear, then, that they will be aroused the more readily, the more similar the work of art is made to reality. A disagreement with nature causes not merely a weakening of the pleasant feeling, but an unpleasant feeling, a protest against the artist’s intentionally disforming nature or against his incapacity.
Secondly, imitation must never become a perfect duplicate of the real thing, to be mistaken for it. There must be no deception of him who enjoys the work of art, for deception would result in unpleasant feelings. Therefore we separate a picture from its surroundings by a frame, place a statue on a pedestal, let a drama be played on a stage.
Thirdly, devotion to imitation must not lead the artist to neglect the other properties of the work which make itsignificant for our life of feeling. A work of art is always a compromise. Nature gives us not only what is significant, but also what is insignificant or even disgusting. The subject-matter must therefore be worked over; that which is of positive value must be emphasized, even exaggerated. Nature usually presents a confusing multitude of details. Mind, for its enjoyment, needs a unitary structure made up of a multitude of details. The artist therefore must, whenever this is necessary, reconstruct nature in order to insure unity of perception. Imitation must often be adapted to special circumstances. A lion among allegorical figures as a symbol of might cannot be represented as an exact imitation of the lion of the desert. The real lion is a dangerous beast, a big cat. The symbolical lion must agree with a certain traditional style. Nature is replete with the insignificant, the individual, the momentary; mind longs for the significant, the general, the eternal. The highest art is found where the artist has been able to reach a maximum of the total effect of all the simultaneous factors.
Religion would be more easily understood, were it not for the many forms under which the single need is satisfied according to circumstances. Art, too, would be more easily understood, if the factors contributing toward the same end were less numerous. Each of them is regarded by some as the essential or exclusive basis of art. It is not difficult to explain this. The people at large naturally take most interest in the subject-matter, perhaps also in the technical ability of the artist. The musician, knowing that form is the main factor in his art, is apt to generalize and to regard form everywhere as the essential element. The painter or sculptor—observing how other artists give artistic values to the most varied subjects, perhaps feelinghimself able to raise any subject, however selected, into the realm of art—may be inclined to think of art as an institution for the employment of the creative energy of those whose talents tend in this direction. Each one gives attention to that aspect of the whole problem which especially concerns him. He overlooks its other aspects.
Not every species of art permits an equal development of all the different factors of art in general. For example, in handicraft and in architecture the work as a material thing serves a practical purpose; as a work of art it serves esthetic enjoyment. The form is here largely determined by its practical applicability. Its purpose must not be hidden, but appear as clearly as possible. Mind must here force itself to disregard the purpose and to enjoy the work independent of its practical interests.
When mind has thus been trained to look for esthetic values, even where the practical side of the thing is paramount, it becomes able to enjoy esthetically even that which in no way directly suggests an esthetic attitude of the spectator. Man learns to enjoy the beauty of nature as something independent of his practical needs. This ability has grown very slowly. As late as the end of the eighteenth century one reads in a book on Switzerland in a description of the Engelberg valley the following words: “What do you see? Nothing but horrid mountains; no gardens, no orchards, no wheat fields pleasing to the eye.”
One thing assisting in this esthetic liberation of the mind is the many-sidedness of nature in comparison with the practical interests of man. Every one can find in nature something remote enough from his everyday interests to become an object of esthetic enjoyment. We enjoy reading about a war in the far East, not only because we recall that we have no money invested there andnothing else to risk, but chiefly because the feelings aroused by the reports from the theater of war can develop without interference. They could not, if the battle took place in a neighboring village. For the same reason we enjoy travel esthetically, not when we are compelled to travel, but when we choose it for our recreation. Standing in the market place of a foreign city, I see the people talk, gesticulate, bargain, as they do in my own town. And yet it is different. There are no relations to my own domestic affairs. Their talking does not concern me. I do not even understand their language. Thus I am able to enjoy the sight esthetically. It is true that nature rarely fulfills all those conditions which the artist fulfills in a work of art by his artistic reconstruction of the piece of nature represented by him. But this loss of esthetic effectiveness is compensated by the inexhaustible variety, the never ceasing movement, the immense power and magnitude of nature.
Thus mind turns against its own beginning. But not in order to make war upon itself, but to overcome evils of former adaptations by a new and higher kind of adaptation.
QUESTIONS223. What property is common to works of art of every kind?224. How does religion contribute to the growth of art?225. How is play related to art?226. What are the three factors in art on which our feelings depend?227. Which of the three factors is predominant in music?228. What is the advantage of imitation over reality?229. What are the three aspects of the artistic problem of imitation?230. What training does the mind receive from the enjoyment of handicraft and architecture?231. What kind of esthetic enjoyment has developed most recently?232. How does nature assist man in the highest development of his esthetic ability?
QUESTIONS
223. What property is common to works of art of every kind?
224. How does religion contribute to the growth of art?
225. How is play related to art?
226. What are the three factors in art on which our feelings depend?
227. Which of the three factors is predominant in music?
228. What is the advantage of imitation over reality?
229. What are the three aspects of the artistic problem of imitation?
230. What training does the mind receive from the enjoyment of handicraft and architecture?
231. What kind of esthetic enjoyment has developed most recently?
232. How does nature assist man in the highest development of his esthetic ability?
What remedy does mind discover for the third class of evils, those resulting from its own activity for other members of society, and those resulting from the restlessness, the protestation of the latter? The remedy is essentially a social phenomenon, and can be discussed here only very briefly with respect to the individual mind.
Mind learns to appreciate and to train itself for activities contributing directly to the welfare of society as a whole by actually working for the good of others rather than for its own good. When the social group increases in size, the more experienced and provident members recognize, not by logical reasoning but as the immediate result of experience, that brutally egotistic acts give rise to quarrel and distrust, weaken the ties which hold together the members, and make the group the prey of its enemies. Altruistic acts, on the other hand, are found to strengthen the group. These influential members then endeavor to further the latter and to suppress the former kind of actions. There are two possible ways of bringing this about.
First, compulsion. Acts destructive to society are punished. He who commits them thus suffers a disadvantage much greater than the immediate advantage, and the consciousness of this probability of suffering inhibits the act. The total concept of activities or inactivities enforced by punishment is the law. But the law is not far-reaching enough. A society of wholly wicked beings cannot be held together by law. Faith and loyalty cannot be enforced.
Willing may consist in a consciousness of the immediate act or in a consciousness of the remotest purpose to the realization of which this act contributes. If in consequence of threatened punishment I will the required act, but not its ultimate purpose, I can frustrate the latter in a hundred different ways. To punishment, therefore, must be added a second means of furthering the welfare of society, through actions of free will. The performance of acts of this kind is called morality.
The special form of morality anywhere at any time depends obviously on many circumstances. It is conceivable that in a tribe sparingly endowed with natural resources and pressed by enemies, morality may demand the killing of the aged and of female children. On a higher level of culture such actions must be immoral, because they do not harmonize with other moral commandments, or because, when food is plentiful, an increase in numbers is highly desirable. The Catholic church regards divorce as immoral, but in Japan public opinion regards the enforced continuation of the matrimonial tie as immoral. It is obvious that morality is a growth. But it grows very slowly, remaining nearly constant for long stretches of time; and so we often meet moral commandments which no longer fit the people upon whom they are imposed.
Kant has more strongly than any one else taken the opposite view. Morality, according to him, is something definite, eternal, absolute, not dependent on circumstances—categorical, as he calls it, not hypothetical. How can this doctrine be reconciled with what we have said above?
We mentioned that actions benefiting the total social group are not the result of reflection, of reasoning, but the immediate result of experience on the part of the most provident and most influential members of the group.Errors and superstitions naturally play their part in the formation of the first moral rules. But subsequent experience gradually improves them, so that they soon become of real benefit to the whole society. How are these rules then transmitted to following generations? By impressing them upon the child. Young children can be given commandments; but explanations of their purpose would in most cases be useless. They are therefore given categorically, as imperatives supported by the authority of parents, elders, priests. Under these circumstances, of course, it is not to be expected that the children will later recall any purpose when they become conscious of these rules. The rules appear in their consciousness as something unconditional, absolute—in their totality asconscience.
One may here raise this question: Why does not society, after its children have grown into men and women, inform them of the purpose of these rules? This information is not given partly because society as a whole is not clearly conscious of the purpose, partly because it is better to leave to these rules their absolute character. The commander of an army does not explain the purpose of an order sent to an inferior officer. This has its disadvantages in so far as the latter, knowing the purpose, might improve details of the order which the commanding officer, from his distant position, could not properly adjust to the actual conditions. But on the whole it is preferable to require strict adherence to the order and not to permit reflection before its execution, for reflection might easily give room to thoughts of self-preservation. Similarly, society demands absolute obedience because thus, on the whole, the moral rules are more strictly carried out, with greater benefit to society. Nevertheless, the rules have their justification only in their purpose,the welfare of society. And conflicts between the literal commandment and this purpose are by no means rare. The white lie, for example, has given much trouble to moral theorists. To the unbiased moral consciousness it is in innumerable cases the proper act. What commander of an army could be tolerated who would refuse to deceive the enemy? How could we meet children, the sick, the insane, if we had made up our minds never to tell a lie?
Understanding the value of the (apparent) absolutism of the moral rules, we also understand why moral sentiment is so highly estimated as compared with a mere number of correct acts. Moral sentiment is the only reliable source of correct action. If we judge a person exclusively or mainly by his success in correct activity, we are likely to discourage his attempting a difficult task. In order to give the greatest possible encouragement, we tell him that it is his free will to do good that determines our estimation of his social value, no matter whether he succeeds or not. However, the question whether a man’s will is to be called good or bad, can be answered only by pointing out a social purpose, the furtherance of the welfare of the whole. Without this the will to do good, the feeling of duty, is like the rope by means of which Münchhausen descended from the moon.
The absolutism of morality explains the close relation of morality to religion. Religion, morality, and sometimes political law, are under God’s protection; the laws of reasoning and of artistic creation are not. The latter are also gifts of God, but left unprotected. Error and bad taste are no sins. Religion, if without direct protection by threatened punishment, would be found by each individual; but each would find a different one, and since onlyone religion is supposed to be the true one, uniformity has to be enforced by threats. Morality still more needs protection by threatened punishment coming from God, since individual desires differ greatly, and would never give rise directly to uniform moral rules. These rules are the product of the experience of generations, and always meet with more or less resistance from the individual. Human authority is frequently not strong enough to overcome this resistance. So God’s protection is needed—and found very easily. What can a father reply to his ever questioning child: Why must I give away a part of what I like to keep myself, or tell what I shall be punished for? He gives the same answer which he gives to the question who made the horses and the whole world: “God made these rules.” Perhaps it would be best if the child were always told that God did not impose these rules upon man as something foreign to his nature, simply because God capriciously chose to do so; but that he gave man these rules because they are needed for the highest development of human life. Only a will which acts morally because this significance of morality is understood can be said to be truly free.
We have frequently spoken of communities, of groups of human beings. Now, man belongs to many communities at the same time: family, town, state, nation, friends, the profession, the denomination, and so on, up to mankind as a whole; which one is meant? They are all meant, but so that in case one obligation excludes another, the one toward the narrower circle of associates takes precedence. We do not approve of women devoting to charity what they owe to their children. But where the narrower circle leaves us free from obligation, the wider circle claims us as its subjects. One of these circles, thewidest of all, is mankind; but morality did not begin with recognizing this. Only those are permitted to enjoy the benefits of one’s morality who are clearly felt to belong to the same community. The expansion of political, linguistic, religious communities enormously increases the number of individuals toward whom each one feels moral obligations.
But this expansion alone would not have broken down the barrier between one and all the rest of mankind. This barrier has been removed by the acceptance of monotheism. Other factors may have contributed toward this result. The categorical character of the moral rules, their independence of conditions, must have favored their universal application to any human being. The development of the idea that all human beings are essentially alike, and of the idea of the unity of the world, must have greatly strengthened the universality of the moral rules. The development of the moral ideal, as we saw, tended to unify the conception of God. But this conception of a single God, monotheism, then gave a new impulse to the universal application of the moral rules. When each people has its own god, his commandments are valid only to his own people. But when it is recognized that only one God exists, his commandments can hardly be confined to the territory of one people. Plato and Zeno, accepting this consequence, teaching that human beings are like the members of one flock, introduced a doctrine new to the Greeks. Christ, reciting the Mosaic law, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy,” adds to it: “But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you,” and thus takes the decisive step. But mankind is still far from having accepted this doctrine completely. To plunder private propertyon the high seas in time of war is no longer regarded as meritorious, but scarcely begins to cast shame on him who makes himself guilty of it, as plundering on land does.
QUESTIONS233. Why is acting by free will superior to willing under compulsion?234. What philosopher is mentioned in the text as the chief opponent to the doctrine that morality is a growth dependent on circumstances?235. How and by whom were moral rules first discovered?236. How are moral rules propagated? What is the consequence of this mode of propagation?237. What two reasons are stated for the fact that society does not inform its members of the real purpose of the moral rules?238. Why is moral sentiment valued more highly than correct acts?239. How is the relation between morality and religion established?240. What is the influence of monotheism on the growth of morality?
QUESTIONS
233. Why is acting by free will superior to willing under compulsion?
234. What philosopher is mentioned in the text as the chief opponent to the doctrine that morality is a growth dependent on circumstances?
235. How and by whom were moral rules first discovered?
236. How are moral rules propagated? What is the consequence of this mode of propagation?
237. What two reasons are stated for the fact that society does not inform its members of the real purpose of the moral rules?
238. Why is moral sentiment valued more highly than correct acts?
239. How is the relation between morality and religion established?
240. What is the influence of monotheism on the growth of morality?
What a strange being is man according to popular understanding! He possesses senses intended to inform him of the world, but incapable of doing this since they deceive him. In addition he has judgment and reason which help him to discover the deceptions of his senses and to gain a true knowledge of the world by the aid of principles whose origin is foreign to this world. His thoughts consist of ideas which succeed each other in accordance with definite laws. Nevertheless, he sits within himself, thehomunculusin thehomo, and with perfect contempt for those laws directs the ideas, weakens this, strengthens that, keeps one and expels the other, unitesthem and separates them with despotic arbitrariness. His chief desire is furtherance of his well-being. Nevertheless, he strives to aid others, to be fair and just, to mortify the flesh. He unceasingly strives to make himself the lord of the world. Still he has a constant craving for being the subject of an omnipotent power; and to satisfy this craving God has given him the belief in Divinity. But God, from whom everything springs, has given him also a punishable inclination toward heresies and confused him by the contradictions of a hundred different revelations, each one claiming its own genuineness. Man’s whole being appears mixed up. No second step is possible without reversing the first. No definite purpose can be made out in all this.
Yet man becomes comprehensible as soon as we apply scientific methods to the study of his nature. He has indeed numerous faculties, seeing and hearing, imagination and feeling, reproduction and concentration. These, however, do not oppose each other, but stand side by side, supplementing each other, as everything on earth consists of parts which supplement each other. The fundamental laws of human life are the same as those which we find in the higher animals. But man’s ability to elaborate momentary sense impressions is immensely increased: there is no limit to the associative and selective combination of the elementary impressions. Thus man establishes his power over all other animals and the inanimate world, realizing the general purposes common to all organisms by incomparably higher and richer constructions. But these, however we esteem them, are derived from the same fundamental forces of nature, only differing in measure and in their proportions. Mind is not like an unclean pot in which noble seeds are planted, so that the plants growingfrom them do not fit the vessel containing them and unending discord must result. Mind is a unitary organism which, unfolding its capacities, adjusts itself more and more perfectly to the circumstances of chance or of its own creation. As the same atmosphere brings forth out of wind and water and warmth now fertile rains, now destructive hail storms, beautiful clouds above, dangerous fog below, so the same mind by the same natural laws brings forth error and truth, desireful pleasure and desireless joy, selfishness and morality.
A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,Z
Abstraction,126,133,140,151.Adaptation,74.Affection,162.Afferent,35,38.After-image,74.Anemia,27.Animals,27,37,65,75,128,151,197.Apes,27.Apperception,119.Arborization,33.Architecture,202.Aristotle,3,10,17.Art,14,24,196.Association,10,11,12,14,93,144,164.Attention,11,12,87,115,121,125,144,151.Audition,74,76.Auditory,62,98.Automatic,101.Axiom,152.Beats,64.Beethoven,14.Belief,152,156,158.Bessel,20.Biology,16.Bismarck,180.Blind born,67.Boycott,136.Brain,21,22,23,27,28.Brewster,17.Broca,21.Buffon,11.Bulb,38.Cæsar,136.Catholic church,205.Causality,5,7,8,9,177.Center,35,36,37,107,111.Cerebellum,38,39.Cerebrum,38,41.Christ,209.Cicero,159.Coherent thought,142.Collateral,32.Color,58.Color-blind,60,76.Color mixture,61.Conduct,162,176.Conscience,206.Consciousness,41.Conservation of energy,45.Copernican system,161.Cortex,38,40,41.Corti,76.Crime,97.Cutaneous,52,73.Davy,121.Definition,141.Dendrite,31.Desire,109.Determinism,181.Difference tone,64.Discrimination,100.Distance,116.Dream,142,156.Drugs,27.Duration,68.Education,24,97.Efferent,35,38.Emotion,168.Enlightenment,11.Esthetics,14,185,197,202.Evolution,5,16.Experiment,17.Expression,105,169.Faculties,10,11,13,22,124,151.Falstaff,123.Fatalism,179.Fatigue,102.Fechner,18,19.Feeling,81,162.Fibril,32.Fichte,15.France,10.Frederick William,1,5.Freedom,7,8,9,176,208.Fritsch,21.Future life,192,195.Galileo,10.Gall,29.Ganglion cell,30,32,38,80.Generalization,126,128,134.Goethe,14,62.Gray matter,33,39.Greece,192.Greenwich,20.Hallucination,79.Handicraft,202.Harmony,68.Helmholtz,17,76.Heraclitus,3.Herbart,12,13,14,18,19.Herod,137.Hitzig,21.Hobbes,8,9,10,17.Hume,10.Hypnosis,179.Hysteria,29.Ideation,123.Illusion,120.Imagery,98,128.Imagination,78,115,124,151.Imitation,130,132,199.Indeterminism,181.Insane,143.Instinct,85,91,101,107,109,110,130,171,173,180,197.Intelligence,27,148.Interest,89.James,170.Japan,205.Jewish prophets,193.Judgment,142.Kant,13,15,205.Kinesthetic,51,52,67,86,91,98,108,117,129,131,145,174.Kinnebrook,20.Knowledge,152,157,184,189.Labyrinth,54.Lange,170.Language,3,24,109,128,144,147,151,155.Latent idea,81.Laughing,105.Law,24.Leibniz,8.Linnæus,11.Literature,139.Localization of function,41,42,44.Lotze,19.Machine,15.Maskelyne,20.Mathematics,13.Medulla,38.Melody,68.Memory,92,123,144,149,150.Metaphor,137.Metonymy,137.Middle Ages,7.Mind,47.Money,165.Monotheism,193,209.Mood,169.Morality,193,204.Mosaic law,209.Motor point,34.Movement,105,108.Müller, Johannes,17.Münchhausen,207.Music,199.Napoleon,159.Natural science,6,8,9,16.Neo-Platonic philosophy,194.Nerve anatomy,38.Nerve center,35,36,37,107,111.Nervous architecture,34.Nervous process,33.Nervous system,27,28,36.Neuron,30,81.Newton,10.Noise,62.Odor,57.Organic sensation,56,170,174.Otolith,54,55,65.Pain,53.Painting,200.Passion,172.Pathology,22,117,143,174.Perception,105,114,119.Personal equation,20.Perspective,116.Philonic philosophy,194.Philosophy,18,19,23,24.Phrenology,29,42.Physiology,16,17,19,21,22.Plato,10,193,209.Play,106,197.Pleasantness,82,106.Poetry,200.Practice,99,126.Prayer,191,192,193.Predestination,179.Priesthood,191,195.Priestley,182.Property,186.Psychiatry,23,24,28,143.Psychophysics,19,23,24,28,143.Ptolemaic system,161.Pythagoras,158.Quantitative,13,17.Range of perceptibility,70.Reality,153.Reason,142.Reflex,86,107,110,170.Reflex arch,36,38,107.Religion,14,24,189,197,207,209.Reproduction,93,125.Responsibility,180.Retina,73,75.Rousseau,15,183.St. Luke,137.Schelling,18.Schopenhauer,15.Science and religion,194.Sculpture,200.Seat of the soul,29,41.Self,145,166.Semicircular canals,54,55,65.Sensation,50,65.Sensationalism,10.Sensitiveness,69,73.Sensory point,34.Set of the mind,94,123.Slang,138.Social classes,186.Space,65.Spatial,67.Speech,109,130,139.Spinal cord,38.Spinoza,8,160.Stimulus,69.Strümpell,174.Succession,68.Superstition,161.Switzerland,202.Taste,57.Temperament,172.Temporal,68.Tetens,11.Theology,194.Thought,108.Threshold,100.Time,65.Tone,62.Trinity,194.Truth,152.Types of imagery,98.Unity in variety,68,164.Unpleasantness,53,82,106.Vision,74,75.Visual,58,73,98.Voluntarism,15.Voluntary,109,171.Weber, E. H.,17,18.Weber’s law,18,71.White matter,33.Will,87,91.Willing,85,173.World,145,167.Wundt,23.Zeno,209.Zoroaster,193.