Its broad, winding river, crossed by a multitude of bridges; its surrounding hills, amongst which stands conspicuous the long line of the Hradcine, topped by a continuous stretch of stately buildings with the cathedral of St. Vitus towering above them; the wide expanse of its numerous streets, over which rise the spires of many churches, ancient towers, and the lofty walls of numerous municipal and university buildings; the long history to which its architecture bears everywhere striking witness and of which its inhabitants are justly proud, rendered the city of Prague a no less fitting background for the eighth philosophical Congress than that which Oxford provided four years ago for the seventh. Nor was the hospitality which Czechoslovakia offered to its members a whit less cordial or less generous than that of England. The delegates who gathered together from all parts of Europe, from America, China, and from Japan, were welcomed both by the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Dr. Beneš by the Minister of Public Instruction, Dr. Krčmář, by the Mayor of Prague; and, were it not for his unfortunate illness, would have been received by the President of the Republic himself. The Společenský club was placed at their disposal. They were entertained at the Foreign Office to tea, and at the palace of the President to supper by his daughter, Dr. Alice Masaryk. Their railway fares and even their tram fares were considerably reduced. On Thursday they were conveyed by motor-cars to Konopišté, a beautiful castle, soaring above pine forests and overlooking an extensive lake, formerly the residence of the Archduke Franz-Ferdinand, now taken over by the State, but maintained exactly as it was when the unfortunate heir of the Emperor Franz-Joseph was living there. The arrangements for the Congress were excellent, thanks to its President, Dr. Rádl, and to an extremely efficient organizing committee which placed itself unreservedly and unremittingly at the disposal of the 350 active and 150 associated members who attended the various meetings.

When we from what may be called Aristotle's Cosmology (crowned as it is by the upper story of his Astronomy, which is a sort of “super-Physics”) turn to his work traditionally called the Metaphysics, we are faced with something—an inquiry or doctrine—of a surprisingly different character. There what we find is the exposition of a sort or degree of knowledge superior to that of the Sciences. This is what we call his metaphysics, but he does not so name it; he names it Wisdom, or (in effect) Theoretical Wisdom. At times he calls it First (we should rather say Last) Philosophy, or, again, Theology (which means not knowledge of God or gods, but knowledge of what is divine). It is par excellence knowledge, the consummate achievement of theoretic or cognitive power. It is the supreme Science, scientia scientiarum. Of what is it knowledge ? It is knowledge not about, but of, whatsoever is real, really real (and of that at its widest extent), and of its universal and necessary attributes. The latter are distinct from one another, and from that to which they indissolubly belong, and metaphysics apprehends all this in its distinctions and interconnections. Further, it is a knowledge of itself, a knowledge of knowledge, and so a Wissenschaftslehre, or “super-Logic.” Finally, it is knowledge commensurate with the real Universe as a whole, so that nothing which is genuinely a part of that escapes its view.

I have for some time found it increasingly difficult to resist a conclusion so heretical that the mere acceptance of it may seem a proof of lunacy. Yet the failure of a recent attempt to resist it has led me to want to confess the heresy. And at any rate a statement of my reasons may provoke a refutation.

No one who is interested in the problem of value and attempts to read through the literature on the subject can fail to be struck by the extraordinary diversity of opinion. Some of this difference of view is traceable to ambiguities in language; there are various terms employed, each of which, of course, may or may not express any valid idea—terms like value, values, kinds of value, sorts of things that have value, value-objects, things that have value. The terms value and values are subject to and lead to much confusion, even on the part of those who are aware of the existence of such a danger. Much of the difference may probably be due to two other important factors: first, the education and training in earlier years whereby emotional reactions to words instead of intelligent understanding of their meaning and validity are induced, and, second, the continual reliance upon moral experience, which reliance may seem to be necessary, but which may be invalidated by the consideration, generally overlooked and unappraised, that moral, like social, experience might not be what it is if certain views were not entertained and did not prevail. The latter possibility would put moral and social studies on a plane quite different from that of physical investigations, for the moral and social inquirer would always have to bear in mind that the facts with which he is confronted, and to which he seeks to appeal, may exist to confront him and his fellowmen only in the sense that they arise from the acceptance and effectuation of a belief or theory, and would not be but for the effectuation of the belief or theory. The other factor, that of the influence of education and training upon emotional reactions, is also important in relation to a study of value, for it is necessary to be on guard against confusing reactions to words and reactions to objects, things, or situations.

Notwithstanding persecution, the Jews have clung staunchly to God. But so have others. And is there any man's life which is free from the persecution of Death, which is not finally futility? “Surely every man walketh in a vain show”; “his days are as a shadow that passeth away.”

The first important question which confronts the teacher of an introductory course in philosophy is likely to be the question as to how he may best approach the subject of what philosophy is, how to approach it in such a way as to pique the curiosity and excite the interest of the student from the beginning. After considering this question many times, it has recently occurred to the present writer that it might be helpful to make this approach by way of a parable, an allegorical account of what seem to be the three basic human desires—the desire to live, the desire to enjoy life, and the desire to understand life. He accordingly offers this suggestion for whatever it may be worth, and presents the following little tale as at least one possible working-out of that suggestion.

Not in the lay mind only, but also to a wide extent throughout the realm of Science itself, there exists the belief that no matter how thoroughly research is pursued, it can never yield anything more than descriptions of whatever it may be concerned with. Undeniably, such descriptions are becoming so complicated in detail, and at the same moment so far-ranging in their applications, that they inevitably assume the aspect of more or less final explanations; and previous investigators often regarded them as being actually explanatory, finding indeed in this supposed result one of the most powerful impulses to carry their inquiries to their utmost limit. This however, it is frequently contended, is at best a short-sighted error and at worst a misleading superstition; the truth, no matter how unwelcome it may seem, being that explanation is unattainable because it is a wholly non-scientific category and ideal. If then we wish to discover any sufficient reason, any ultimate ground, any final solution, we must turn from Science to Philosophy; and even so, many sceptics do not hesitate to add, we are foredoomed to disappointment.

To the bulk of the British reading public ‘contemporary French philosophy’ would seem to be interchangeable with ‘the works of M. Bergson.’ And it can scarcely be otherwise when, as an erudite correspondent of Le Temps relates, Paris now prints in a week one million books—as many as were printed annually in the reign of the Roi Soleil. For the proportion of these devoted to philosophy is not small. One voracious reader and professor of philosophy in Switzerland, Monsieur J. Benrubi, has withstood for thirty years the annual avalanche of philosophical books, read steadily on, abstracted and collated his gleanings. In him we have a most competent guide. Familiar with every rivulet and path, and with the historic formation of the country, he now reveals to us the whole panorama. His encyclopaedic enterprise, 1 treating some hundred and sixty authors, is neither a chronicle nor a classification, except in a secondary way. It aims principally at tracing cross-currents in recent philosophies so as to discover their internal connexions, and thence in what direction present French thought is heading. M. Benrubi's scrupulousness in seeing nobody is left out tends perhapsto overcrowding, and his emphasis on that which coheres may somewhat overshadow that which divides. And it may be inevitable, too, with a field of figures so vast, that the accounts of some should be insufficiently detailed. But the total effect is substantial, and his volumes are invaluable to whomever would appreciate whence and whither French thought is proceeding. There are three threads to guide us through the labyrinth. The distinct though still interacting tendencies are described as ‘empirical and scientific positivism,’ ‘epistemological and critical idealism,’ and ‘metaphysical and spiritual positivism.’ Each rests on certain characteristics manifested with varying explicitness in the thought of its many representatives. I indicate summarily and quite inadequately some points of M. Benrubi's conclusions.

In his introduction to the logic of morals Karl Menger (Vienna) maintains that only two kinds of ethical inquiry are fruitful—the psychology or biology of morals and the logic of morals. The first of these is an empirical science which discovers what value judgments have actually been made and correlates them with various other factors. In this way it provides material for the logic of morals, which neither discovers empirical facts nor analyses them, but simply points out logical relations. In this book Menger discusses the nature of ethical judgments and carries out some investigations of the logical type.