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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 
 
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 WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY?
 
 By the Same Author. 
 
 What is Poetry? An Essay. 
 
 \Vai,t Whitman : An Essay. With a 
 Selection from his Writings. 
 
 The Silence of Love : Poems. 
 
 [^Second Edition. 
 
 The Triumph of Love: Poems.
 
 WHAT IS 
 PHILOSOPHY ? 
 
 BY 
 
 EDMOND HOLMES 
 
 JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD 
 LONDON iff NEW YORK. MDCCCCV
 
 Richard Folkard & Son, 
 Devonjhirc Stre«t, London, W.C.
 
 WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY?
 
 WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 
 
 I. 
 
 What is Philosophy ? I will answer this 
 
 question, tentatively and provisionally, by 
 
 defining Philosophy as a search for ulti7nate 
 
 trtith. This definition will not carry me very 
 
 far until I have defined the word truth ; but 
 
 of all words this is perhaps the least definable, 
 
 the range of the corresponding idea being as 
 
 wide and the meaning as deep as the 
 
 U niverse. What is truth ? The objective 
 
 side of knowledge is one answer to this 
 
 audacious question. The subjective side of 
 
 reality is another. But what is knowledge 
 
 and what is reality, and in what sense can 
 
 truth be said to mediate between these two 
 
 conceptions ? Are we in possession of truth 
 
 B
 
 2 What is Philosophy? 
 
 when our knowledge is clear, accurate, and 
 certain, when we can say of a thing with 
 absolute confidence " This is so " ? If this is 
 what wc mean by truth, then it is incontest- 
 able that mathematical truth is truth of the 
 very highest order. But what of the subject- 
 matter of mathematical science ? Are the 
 things which the mathematician knows so 
 
 o 
 
 clearly, so accurately, and so certainly, real 
 things? Now, if feelinor be at once the 
 product and the proof of experience, and if 
 by experience we mean contact with reality, 
 we may perhaps conclude that the most real 
 things are the things that awake in us the 
 most intense and exalted emotion ; and inas- 
 much as our attitude towards the objects of 
 mathematical study is wholly unemotional, 
 we may perhaps go on to conclude that the 
 things which the mathematician knows so 
 perfectly are of all things the least real. 
 Here, then, in Pure Mathematics, our know- 
 ledge is of the very highest order, but the
 
 What is Philosophy? 3 
 
 things that are known seem to have the very 
 minimum of reality. In other words, mathe- 
 matical truth is of all forms of truth the 
 highest in degree and the lowest in kind ; 
 the highest in respect of accuracy and 
 certainty, the lowest in respect of the reality 
 of its objective counterpart. As we pass from 
 the abstractions of mathematics to the concrete 
 phenomena of material nature, from these 
 to the complex phenomena of life, and from 
 these to the more spiritual phenomena which 
 are the objects of poetic and religious emo- 
 tion, our knowledge of the things that sur- 
 round us becomes less and less certain and 
 accurate, but the things themselves become 
 proportionately more and more real, if the 
 strength and vividness of the feelings that 
 they generate may be accepted as proofs of 
 their reality. At last we seem to approach 
 the confines of a region in which knowledge 
 (in the scientific sense of the word) is non- 
 existent, but the things which we seek to 
 
 B — 2
 
 4 What is Philosophy? 
 
 know are supremely real. If truth is to be 
 -found in that region, it is, of all forms of 
 truth, the lowest in degree but the highest in 
 kind — the lowest in respect of accuracy and 
 certainty, the highest in respect of the reality 
 of its objective counterpart. 
 
 What then is truth? The objective side 
 of knowledge. The subjective side of reality. 
 But what is most knowable is least real, and 
 what is most real is least knowable. Perhaps 
 we may infer from these data that truth is of 
 two kinds, or rather that it ranges between 
 two opposite and infinitely distant poles. At 
 one of these poles we have the exact truth 
 about thinors — the truth which is the counter- 
 part of perfect knowledge. At the other, we 
 have the inmost truth of things — the truth 
 which is the counterpart of absolute reality. 
 Speaking generally, it may be said that when 
 we try to discover the truth about things, we 
 separate ourselves as fully as it is possible 
 for us to do — separate ourselves provision-
 
 What is Philosophy? 5 
 
 ally and hypothetically, if not really — from 
 the objects of our experience, with the result 
 that our attitude towards them is cold, un- 
 emotional, impersonal, impartial, disinterested ; 
 whereas, when we try to discover the truth of 
 things, we identify ourselves as closely as it 
 is possible for us to do with the objects of 
 our experience, with the result that our 
 attitude towards them is warm, emotional, 
 personal, partial (with something of the 
 partiality that we feel for ourselves) inte- 
 rested (with something of the interest that 
 we take in ourselves). To discover and 
 expound the truth about things is obviously 
 the function of Science. To realize and 
 express the truth of things is obviously the 
 function of Poetry. 
 
 Where then does Philosophy come in ? 
 
 Let us first distinguish it from Science. 
 In Science we arrive at certainty, the cer- 
 tainty which enables us to say with perfect 
 confidence, with imperturbable peace of mind,
 
 6 What is Philosophy? 
 
 " I know that this is so." One of the sources 
 of our certainty and one of the proofs of its 
 validity is the feeling that it is shared by all 
 who have gone as fully into the matter as we 
 have. In Philosophy we never get within 
 measurable distance of certainty of this kind. 
 Men have been philosophizing for thousands 
 of years, and so far as tangible results are 
 concerned they have as yet achieved exactly 
 nothing. Were I to ask a question in Che- 
 mistry, I should in ninety-nine cases out of a 
 hundred receive the same answer from every 
 professional chemist. But the doctors of 
 Philosophy do not seem to have made up 
 their minds on a single point. They have 
 no primer or catechism to place in the hands 
 of their novices, no principle or axiom which 
 they can affirm to be incontestably true. 
 The outsider need not be initiated into the 
 mysteries of Philosophy in order to see that 
 disorder and anarchy are its leading charac- 
 teristics. The din of intestine strife is almost
 
 What is Philosophy? 7 
 
 the only sound that escapes from its camp 
 into the outer world. If a house be divided 
 against itself, how shall it stand ? The 
 history of Philosophy is the history of end- 
 less civil wars and revolutions, the history of 
 a chaos on which order has not yet begun to 
 dawn. Systems of thought that flourish in 
 one age are either anathematized or ignored 
 in the next. Rival systems, so far as they 
 pretend to be scientific, are mutually destruc- 
 tive ; and each age in turn is the scene of a 
 new conflict. Nay, the very platform on 
 which the different schools meet and wrangle, 
 changes from age to age. The arena which 
 was wide enouoh for the combatants of one 
 century is too narrow for those of another. 
 Problems that perplexed the minds and agi- 
 tated the hearts of our forefathers seem trivial 
 or meaningless to the thinkers of to-day. 
 Assumptions that seem to-day to provide a 
 solid basis of controversy will be rejected 
 to-morrow as hollow and unsound. All is in
 
 8 What is Philosophy? 
 
 flux. Nothing is fixed or certain. What 
 Chillingworth said of the Church of Rome 
 applies witli tenfold force to Philosophy : 
 •' There are popes against popes, councils 
 against councils, some fathers against other 
 fathers, the same fathers against themselves, 
 a consent of fathers of one age against a con- 
 sent of fathers of another age, the Church of 
 one age against the Church of another age." 
 I admit that Science too has its unsolved 
 problems, its doubtful points, its controversies, 
 its changes not merely of opinion but even of 
 authoritative teaching. To speak of it as 
 progressive is to take such characteristics as 
 these for granted. But Science is a sphere 
 (unlike those which glide through space) 
 whose surface may be molten or even ne- 
 bulous, yet which has none the less a solid 
 centre of truth. And as what is nebulous 
 becomes molten, and what is molten gradu- 
 ally cools and solidifies, the hard inward core 
 of accepted truth gains both in size and den-
 
 What is Philosophy? 9 
 
 sity. The sphere of Philosophy, on the other 
 hand, nebulous at the surface, is incandescent 
 to the very centre. 
 
 That individual philosophers have pro- 
 digious confidence in themselves and their 
 theories is indeed undeniable ; but the acer- 
 bity with which they maintain their opinions 
 shows that their minds are really corroded 
 with secret doubt. The odiimi philosophicum 
 is scarcely less virulent than the oditmt theo- 
 logictim ; and anger is always a storm-signal, 
 a proof of mental agitation, not of mental 
 repose. Perfect certitude is always calm and 
 cold. No one would dream of being angry 
 with the harmless lunatics who maintain that 
 the surface of the earth is flat. In the bor- 
 derland of Science there is no doubt much 
 heat and pugnacity ; but in the regions over 
 which Science has fully established its autho- 
 rity, there is a perpetual Pax Romana, an 
 atmosphere of inviolable calm. 
 
 The reason why Science is able to
 
 lo What is Philosophy? 
 
 arrive at certainty is that it starts from cer- 
 tainty ; and the reason why it is able to 
 start from certainty is that the sphere of its 
 work is one in which the separation, the 
 provisional and hypothetical separation, of 
 subject from object is complete, the result of 
 this being that no cloud of personality ob- 
 trudes itself between the mind and the things 
 that it studies. To examine the foundations 
 of mathematical certitude would involve me 
 in a long and probably futile digression ; but, 
 speaking generally, it may be said that the data 
 with which Science deals are furnished by the 
 bodily senses — perceptive faculties which are 
 equally developed (within certain undefinable 
 limits) in all sane and healthy persons, and 
 which therefore operate alike, or with diffe- 
 rences which can easily be corrected, in all who 
 use them. (When I say this, I am thinking 
 less of the individual senses than of their 
 concerted action). It stands to reason that 
 if the senses operated differently in different
 
 What is Philosophy? ii 
 
 persons, if they conveyed even slightly dif- 
 ferent messages to different minds, something 
 of self — of the individual self — would enter 
 into every act of perception, with the result 
 that the distinction between subject and ob- 
 ject would begin to break down, and the at- 
 mosphere through which things are discerned, 
 instead of being perfectly clear and calm, 
 would become cloudy and electrical, — a con- 
 dition of things which is always incompatible 
 with certainty and fatal to serenity of mind. 
 It is the universal element in sense-percep- 
 tion which makes the foundations of Science 
 so sure, and the materials with which it builds 
 so solid and strong. 
 
 The connexion between universality and 
 certainty may, of course, be looked at from a 
 somewhat different point of view. The fact 
 that a perceptive faculty is " constant and 
 common, shared by all and perpetual in all," 
 shows that it is natural (in the fullest sense 
 of the word); and the naturalness of a percep-
 
 12 What is Philosophy? 
 
 tive facuhy is a sufficient guarantee (sufficient 
 de facto as well as de jure) of its trustworthi- 
 ness. What it is my nature to perceive that 
 I do and must perceive. The ruling of 
 Nature, once it has been clearly defined, is 
 decisive and irreversible, — and that for the 
 plain reason that there is no higher Court of 
 Appeal. o ^ avaipHiV ravrriv rrjv iriaTiv ov 'rrdvv 
 -maioTepa (pel. The loneliest of specialists is 
 armed, while he conducts his delicate and 
 recondite investigations, with the full autho- 
 rity of Nature ; and in virtue of this he may 
 fairly claim to be the Plenipotentiary and 
 High Commissioner of Humanity in the 
 petty domain which he is content to explore. 
 But whichever view we may take of the 
 connexion between universality and certainty, 
 we must not fail to remind ourselves that 
 universality may be and sometimes is purely 
 potential, and that therefore there might be 
 cases in which certitude would be legitimate 
 even though one were alone, or almost alone,
 
 What is Philosophy? 13 
 
 against the world. For example, it is quite 
 conceivable that there are perceptive facul- 
 ties latent in all of us — clairvoyant senses, 
 let us call them — which some men have 
 brought, or at any rate might bring, to matu- 
 rity : and it is quite conceivable that reason, 
 or perhaps some higher development of 
 reason, dealing with the data of these senses, 
 as the scientist's reasoning faculties deal with 
 the data of the bodily senses, might arrive at 
 scientific truths as real and as incontestable 
 as those of physical science, but immeasur- 
 ably larger and deeper. These clairvoyant 
 senses would operate alike in all who were 
 able to use them, and for the rest of mankind 
 they and the things that they revealed would 
 simply not exist. Therefore for those who 
 could use such senses, the provisional separ- 
 ation of subject from object would be com- 
 plete, and no cloud of personality (in the 
 narrower sense of the word) would disturb 
 the clear and calm atmosphere through
 
 14 What is Philosophy? 
 
 which the mind perceived the objects of its 
 thought. And so our clairvoyant investiga- 
 tor, feeling sure that all who had actualized 
 their higher senses saw things exactly as he 
 saw them, would rightly feel certain both of 
 his facts and of his conclusions ; and with 
 him, as with the physicist, certitude would 
 find its counterpart in serenity of mind. The 
 truths which he might discover, if taught to 
 ordinary men, would seem to be worse than 
 fooHshness, and would probably Irritate those 
 who heard them to the verge of madness ; 
 but he would no more dream of being angry 
 with his fellow-men for not seeing what 
 he saw and knowing what he knew, than 
 you or I would dream of being angry with 
 the blind for not possessing the use of their 
 eyes. 
 
 As in Philosophy there is neither cer- 
 tainty nor serenity, we may fairly conclude 
 that the sphere of its work is one in which 
 the (provisional) distinction between subject
 
 What is Philosophy? 15 
 
 and object breaks down more or less com- 
 pletely ; and as a reason for this we may 
 perhaps conjecture that the great matters in 
 which Philosophy exercises itself cannot be 
 contemplated without emotion, and that as 
 our emotional senses, though actually ex- 
 istent in all men, are differently developed 
 in different persons and convey different 
 messages to different minds, the atmosphere 
 through which things are seen in Philosophy 
 must needs be heavily charged with the 
 electrical clouds of individuality, — clouds 
 which make clearness of vision and serenity 
 of mind alike impossible. I will presently 
 go into this question more fully. Mean- 
 while, if we are to warn Philosophy off the 
 domain of Science, we must also warn 
 Science not to usurp the functions of Philo- 
 sophy. Men of Science sometimes talk as if 
 Science had an official philosophy and even 
 an official creed. This is a pure delusion. 
 Science, as such, has no philosophy and no
 
 1 6 What is Philosophy? 
 
 creed. If men of science are interested in 
 philosophy, they are interested in it, not as 
 men of science, but as men. The connection 
 between scientific study and philosophical 
 bias is always accidental, not essential. What 
 wc habitually do no doubt reacts on what 
 we are, and what we are determines what 
 we believe and think. But Science, as such, 
 is no more responsible for the philosophy 
 of the scientist than is Art, as such, for 
 the philosophy of the artist, or Commerce, 
 as such, for the philosophy of the merchant. 
 Science (as we understand the word) works 
 on a particular plane of existence, the 
 physical plane, the plane which is revealed 
 to us, or at any rate opened up to us by our 
 bodily senses. Of this plane only a part, 
 perhaps only a small fraction, has been fully 
 surveyed. Beyond the ever advancing limits 
 of this explored region lies a world which as 
 yet is either wholly unknown or has only 
 just begun to be explored. Potentially this
 
 What is Philosophy? 17 
 
 unknown world belonos to Science, not to 
 Philosophy. Whenever Science discovers a 
 new island or a new continent on the surface 
 of its own sphere of work, it is but right that 
 it should regard this unexplored land as its 
 own, that it should plant its flag on its shores, 
 and warn off all possible intruders. But 
 beyond and above the physical plane (the 
 frontiers of which are, of course, undefinable), 
 beyond and above the certainties of Science, 
 beyond and above its infinite potentialities 
 of certainty, stretches the rest of the Universe 
 (I am using the word in its very widest and 
 freest sense) ; and in this larger world, where 
 certainty is unattainable in the present stage 
 of our mental development, speculation Is 
 permissible, and Philosophy is in possession, 
 though not necessarily in sole or in per- 
 manent possession, of the field of thought. 
 Even the clairvoyant scientist, though It 
 might be his lot to explore some of the very 
 regions in which Philosophy is now working, 
 
 c
 
 1 8 What is Philosophy? 
 
 would not be a Philosopher. The results 
 of his labours would be Science — Science 
 incomparably larger, loftier, and deeper than 
 anything that we can dream of — but still 
 Science, not Philosophy. Many of the pro- 
 blems that at present exercise the thoughts of 
 philosophers might find their solution in his 
 teaching ; but in the act of being solved 
 they would cease to belong to Philosopny 
 and would be transferred to the domain of 
 Science. It is indeed conceivable that, with 
 the further development of human nature. 
 Science will be able to advance from the 
 physical to higher planes of existence ; and 
 that, as it advances, Philosophy will retire 
 before it, abandoning fields of thought 
 through which it is at present free to range. 
 But it may safely be predicted that Philo- 
 sophy will never lack its own appropriate 
 sphere of work. The great ideas that un- 
 derlie Science, the great ideas that govern 
 it, the great ideas that emerge from its
 
 What is Philosophy? 19 
 
 teaching, all belong, as ideas, not to Science 
 but to Philosophy. It is a truism to say that 
 all knowledge implies the unknowable ; that 
 all proof implies the unprovable ; that all 
 definition implies the undefinable ; that suc- 
 cess, achievement, whatever form it may 
 take, is always made possible by an environ- 
 ing atmosphere of failure. It follows that, 
 wherever there is Science, there is room and 
 there is need for Philosophy, — for a philo- 
 sophy which shall underlie Science, and in- 
 terpenetrate it and overarch it. I say this, 
 not with any immediate intention of defining 
 the sphere of Philosophy, but only in order 
 to show that the sphere of Science, though 
 infinite in one sense, is limited in others, and 
 that Science cannot overpass those limits 
 without foregoing its privileges and advan- 
 tages, and eventually losing its identity. That 
 there is a debatable land between Science 
 and Philosophy — a land in which the two 
 authorities dispute for mastery— is undenia- 
 
 c — 2
 
 20 What is Philosophy? 
 
 bly true ; but this does not alter the fact that 
 each has its own appropriate sphere of work, 
 a sphere in which its essential characteristics 
 are exhibited clearly and fully, a sphere which 
 is wholly its own, and from which it has a 
 right to warn off the other. 
 
 Let us next distinguish Philosophy from 
 Poetry. The aim of Philosophy is, in the 
 last resort, scientific. The Thinker tries to 
 separate himself from the objects of his 
 thouii^ht, tries to study them coldly, imper- 
 sonally, dispassionately, in order that he may 
 get to know the truth about them, in order 
 that he may form conceptions of them or 
 frame theories about them which shall be 
 intrinsically and unconditionally true. The 
 Poet, on the other hand, tries to know the 
 truth of things by becoming one with them, 
 by merging his being in theirs. The imagi- 
 native sympathy which enables him, in some 
 sort and some measure, to become one with 
 things, gives him insight into their vital and
 
 What is Philosophy? 21 
 
 essential properties; and as his insight reacts 
 upon and intensifies his sympathy, the time 
 comes at last when his kindled emotion over- 
 flows of its own accord into impassioned 
 speech. Those to whom his words appeal 
 are able to some extent to share his inward 
 experiences, until at last they are admitted, 
 through the magic of his song, into the truth, 
 the inner truth, of the things which it is his 
 mission to interpret. To these persons he is 
 able to say, " I have been one, if only for a 
 moment, with the things which I sing of, and 
 having shared their identity, I can tell you 
 what they really are." But far from imagin- 
 ing that his account of things is true for all 
 men, he knows perfectly well that it is only 
 true for those who are able to feel what he 
 has felt. In other words, his attitude to- 
 wards things is in the highest degree per- 
 sonal and emotional. With abstract truth, 
 the truth about things, truth which is intrinsi- 
 cally valid whether men accept it or not, he
 
 22 What is Philosophy? 
 
 does not concern himself in the slightest 
 
 degree. 
 
 The Thinker then differs from the Poet 
 in that he tries, not to know things, but to 
 know the truth about them ; whereas he 
 differs from the Scientist in that he tries to 
 know the truth about things which are not 
 knowable, in the scientific sense of the word. 
 Or let us put the matter thus : — The Poet 
 tries to know the inmost truth of things : the 
 Scientist tries to know all about the appear- 
 ances of thinqrs : the Thinker tries to know 
 all about the inmost truth (or inmost essence) 
 of things. 
 
 Acrain, the Thinker differs from the Poet 
 in that he tries to separate himself from the 
 objects of his thought and to deal with them 
 impersonally and disinterestedly; whereas he 
 differs from the Scientist in that his person- 
 ality inevitably obtrudes itself between his 
 mind and the objects of his thought. Or, to 
 put the matter more concisely : — in Science
 
 What is Philosophy? 23 
 
 personality is nothing ; in Poetry personality 
 is everything- ; in Philosophy personality is 
 ever striving, consciously striving, to become 
 impersonal. 
 
 Here we come to what is, I think, really 
 differential in Philosophy. The chief, per- 
 haps the final, reason why the things in which 
 the Thinker exercises himself are too high 
 and too deep for him, is that his personality 
 does and must obtrude itself between him 
 and them ; or rather because the objects of 
 his thought interpenetrate and transfigure 
 his personality, because they constitute his 
 true self, because they are the breath of his 
 inner being and the life of his inmost soul. 
 The truth is that, in conceiving of the Uni- 
 verse as external to himself, he necessarily 
 relinquishes it to Science, — the physical plane 
 to physical science, the superphysical planes 
 (if such there be) to superphysical sciences : 
 for to externalize the Universe is to postulate 
 the validity of the distinction between subject
 
 24 What is Philosophy? 
 
 and object; in other words, it is to imply that 
 all existent things are cognizable by percep- 
 tive faculties akin or at least analogous to 
 those with which we cognize the material 
 world ; and it is in the data of such faculties 
 that Science finds and will always find its 
 appropriate materials. Thus in trying to 
 become impersonal, in trying to separate 
 himself from the realities which he seeks to 
 explore, the Thinker is compelled to invade 
 the domain — actual or potential — of Science; 
 and being rightly expelled from that domain 
 as an intruder (for Science may fairly say to 
 Philosophy, " If the world is really external 
 to the mind, it is for me to explore it, not for 
 you "), he has no choice but to return to his 
 starting point and re-discover the Universe 
 in himself. And so, while he is trying (in 
 perfect good faith) to solve the great pro- 
 blems that perplex him, and perhaps flatter- 
 ing himself (also in perfect good faith) that 
 he is making "first-rate metaphysical disco-
 
 What is Philosophy? 25 
 
 veries" (to quote the grotesque words of 
 a thinker who lacked the saving grace of 
 humour), he is really engaged in communing 
 with his own soul and in striving to wrest 
 from it the secrets of its inner life.
 
 II. 
 
 Let us now try to make our way to 
 the fountain-head of Philosophy. As truth 
 ranges between the antipodal poles of the 
 scientific and the poetic ideals, so does know- 
 ledge range between the antipodal poles of 
 clear conscious apprehension and blind in- 
 stinctive groping, — the latter a kind of know- 
 ing which, in the last resort, is scarcely dis- 
 tinguishable from mere being. Examples in 
 illustration and support of this conception of 
 knowledge are ready, in plenty, to one's hand. 
 It will suffice if I contrast the knowledge that 
 a mathematician has of the properties of a 
 triangle, or a chemist of the properties of 
 oxygen, with the knowledge that I have of 
 the soul of a dear and intimate friend. Close, 
 subtle, penetrative, sympathetic, the latter 
 kind of knowledge belongs to a region which
 
 What is Philosophy? 27 
 
 is but faintly illuminated by the light of con- 
 sciousness. That it is real knowledge is 
 proved by the fact that it enables me to find 
 my way through the most complicated of all 
 mazes, to solve correctly the most delicate 
 and difficult of all practical problems. That 
 it is in large measure blind, instinctive, and 
 implicit is proved by the fact that only a 
 small fraction of it admits of being formu- 
 lated or even of being informally presented 
 to my consciousness. I cannot explain to 
 myself, still less can I explain to a bystander, 
 why, in such and such a case, I act towards 
 my friend in such and such a way. But my 
 love of my friend and the insight that love 
 gives me into his character, enables my 
 buried self to make profound and elaborate 
 calculations as to the relative values of various 
 possible courses of action, — calculations which, 
 when I apply them to the solution of the 
 concrete problems that perplex me, I find to 
 have been correctly made. This example
 
 28 What is Philosophy? 
 
 shows that there is. as Diotima suggests, an 
 intermediate state, or rather many interme- 
 diate states, between aocfjia and dfiddia, 
 between perfect knowledge and blank igno- 
 rance. And this is what we have every 
 reason to expect. For, after all, the range 
 of knowledge between the poles of conscious- 
 ness and unconsciousness is but one aspect, 
 one among many, of the general range of 
 human nature. The idea of the buried life, 
 of the vie profonde, of the subliminal self, 
 the idea that we are what we really are, not 
 what we seem to be, that we think what we 
 really think, not what we say we think, that we 
 believe what we really believe, not what we 
 profess to believe, — has of late years won 
 many adherents and may fairly claim to have 
 rooted itself in human thought. The idea is 
 ill the highest degree suggestive and illumi- 
 native, but we must be on our guard against 
 misinterpreting it. The personality of man 
 — of each individual man — has been likened
 
 What is Philosophy? 29 
 
 to an iceberg, which rises high above the sea 
 in which it floats, though by far the larger 
 part of it is submerged and invisible. This 
 simile is, I think, misleadingly dualistic. The 
 movements of Nature are, as a rule, con- 
 tinuous rather than spasmodic. To say that 
 man's life is either immersed in the darkness 
 of mere being, or exposed, like an iceberg 
 glittering in the sunshine, to the full light of 
 consciousness, is to go back to that crude 
 psychology from which the conception of the 
 sub-conscious self is designed to deliver us. 
 Reasoning from analogy, one may surely sur- 
 mise that the dawn of consciousness on the 
 life of man is and has ever been as gradual 
 and indeterminable as the approach of day- 
 licrht. in our northern latitudes, at the close 
 of a summer night. 
 
 To this general conception (which we 
 may, perhaps, accept as a working hypo- 
 thesis) there are certain obvious corollaries. 
 The first is that unconscious apprehension is
 
 30 What is Philosophy? 
 
 prior in time to conscious knowledge and is 
 at any given moment working in advance of 
 it. That man acts, feels, and perceives before 
 he thinks ; that instinct is in the field before 
 reason ; that genius works ahead of intelli- 
 gence ; that knowledge must exist before one 
 can become aware of its presence ; that intui- 
 tion must prepare the way for inference ; that 
 the yarn of experience must be spun before 
 it can be woven ; — all these are self-evident 
 truths which hold good of the individual 
 life not less than of the life of collective 
 Humanity. 
 
 The second corollary is an obvious ex- 
 tension of the first. As the unconscious (or 
 sub-conscious) side of one is ever working 
 ahead of one's consciousness, it is also (un- 
 less indeed growth and progress are retro- 
 grade movements) ever dealing with higher 
 realities, and ever nearer to the truth of 
 things. I am expressing the same idea in 
 other words when I say that conscious appre-
 
 What is Philosophy? 31 
 
 hension of a truth implies unconscious (or 
 sub-conscious) apprehension of a higher and 
 wider truth. Thus consciously to apprehend 
 a fact is unconsciously to apprehend a law. 
 Consciously to pass an isolated judgment is 
 unconsciously to apprehend and apply a prin- 
 ciple. Consciously to determine on and do 
 a noble action is unconsciously to grasp and 
 cleave to a spiritual idea. But the law is 
 higher than the fact. The principle is higher 
 than the judgment. The idea is higher than 
 the impulse to action. 
 
 The third corollary is scarcely more than 
 a restatement of the second. To say that 
 the sub-conscious self is at any given moment 
 dealing with higher realities than those which 
 present themselves to one's consciousness is 
 to imply that the true life of man is buried ; 
 that the true self is a hidden self; that the 
 higher side of man's being, the side that is 
 conversant with Nature's inner mysteries, 
 lives and works for the most part in the
 
 32 What is Philosophy? 
 
 darkness of the unconscious life. In sup- 
 port of this thesis I will content myself with 
 naming two words, inspiratio7t and orenius. 
 The beliefs and conceptions that centre in 
 these words are so widely spread and so 
 persistent, that experience — the collective ex- 
 perience of the race — alone could have gene- 
 rated them ; and it is clear that if they are to 
 find a natural explanation, we must interpret 
 them by the light of the idea which I am 
 now trying to formulate. 
 
 I pass on to a fourth conception — corol- 
 lary I can scarcely call it — which will enable 
 me to rehabilitate reason and consciousness. 
 So far I may have seemed to suggest that 
 the sole function of consciousness is to garner 
 the fruits of the buried life or (like the admin- 
 istrative officials who follow in the wake of a 
 conqueror) to organize the provinces which 
 instinct and intuition have gradually con- 
 quered. But consciousness has a deeper 
 meaning than this and a higher function. I
 
 What is Philosophy? 33 
 
 have said that conscious apprehension of a 
 truth implies unconscious apprehension of a 
 higher and wider truth. No doubt it does ; 
 but what is the precise meaning of the word 
 " implies"? Would it not be equally correct 
 to say that conscious apprehension of a truth 
 prepares the way for unconscious apprehen- 
 sion of a higher and wider truth, prepares 
 the way for it and makes it possible ? The 
 very fact that one has become aware of the 
 knowledge that one possesses is a stimulus 
 to further effort on the part of the unconscious 
 self. For it is a tendency of human nature 
 — a master tendency which operates on every 
 plane of man's being — to be dissatisfied with 
 what has been won and to press on towards 
 the unattained. And so the man who con- 
 sciously apprehends a fact is already, though 
 he may not know it, dissatisfied with the fact 
 as such. He has already begun to ask him- 
 self, in some secret recess of his mind, "What 
 does the fact mean ? What is its place and 
 
 D
 
 34 What is Philosophy? 
 
 purpose in Nature ? What causes have pro- 
 duced it ? What laws does it exemplify ? " 
 His mind is already beginning, blindly and 
 gropinglx', to feel its way towards the law or 
 wider fact in which the isolated phenomenon 
 is grounded and through which it is explained. 
 So too when a man becomes aware of an 
 emotional idea which has long ruled his heart, 
 in the very act of bringing it under the con- 
 trol of his consciousness, he causes it to draw- 
 in from far and near its hidden reserves and 
 supports (that through these it may justify 
 itself to his reason), — to draw these into a 
 region of his sub-conscious life in which it is 
 possible for them to shape themselves, by 
 slow degrees and by a spontaneous process 
 of which he has no cognizance, into new 
 emotional ideas, ready when their turn comes 
 to be transmuted by consciousness into new 
 thoughts. These examples suggest to us that 
 consciousness, by stimulating the subliminal 
 self into ever fresh activity, may well become
 
 What is Philosophy? 35 
 
 one of the most potent of the forces that make 
 for the evolution of the inner life. 
 
 We now begin to see a meaning and a 
 purpose in Philosophy. Its dream of con- 
 sciously knowing the final truth about things 
 is of all dreams the idlest ; but it may well 
 be that the soul has sub-conscious knowledge 
 of truths deeper than any that can present 
 themselves to consciousness, and it may well 
 be that Philosophy will help to bring this 
 sub-conscious knowledsfe to the birth. The 
 true life is a buried life ; and the true self is 
 a hidden self. Far down in the "abysmal 
 deeps " of the soul dwells the thing which for 
 each of us is of eternal and transcendent siof- 
 nificance, — the genuine faith of the man ; 
 the faith which is the inward counterpart of 
 character, the invisible side of personality, 
 the hidden source of spiritual energy ; the 
 real attitude of the man towards the world in 
 which he finds himself; the actual, living, 
 
 ever-changing response made by his soul to 
 
 D — 2
 
 36 What is Philosophy? 
 
 the realities that environ it, that underlie it, 
 that overshadow it, that stream through all 
 the deeper channels of its life. To determine 
 what that response is, is beyond the power of 
 thought, for the reason — one among many — 
 that it is, as I have just said, a living and 
 therefore an ever-changing response ; but if 
 we may never hope to know what we really 
 believe, it by no means follows that we are 
 to rest content with our ignorance. To say 
 that all men are equally endowed with faith, 
 and therefore all equally near to the inmost 
 truth of things, would be a glaring misuse 
 of language. It is impossible to define the 
 limits of the individual life as we descend 
 into the depths of the buried self; but it is 
 tolerably certain that the objective presence 
 of spiritual Nature in the soul, however real 
 it may be, does not constitute the man's per- 
 sonality except so far as it is brought into 
 those sub-conscious regions of his life which 
 mediate between the light of his conscious-
 
 What is Philosophy? 37 
 
 ness and the total darkness in which all his 
 attempts to explore himself invariably end. 
 Faith (as I understand the word) differs from 
 faith, just as character differs from character; 
 and the difference between faith and faith is 
 largely determined by the individual's capa- 
 city for actualizing the potentialities of faith, 
 or, in other words, for drawing into his own 
 life the waters that rise from those dark 
 reservoirs of spirituality which are the very 
 head-springs of ideal truth. Men are respon- 
 sible, within certain undefinable limits, for 
 their faith, just as they are responsible for 
 their character ; and the reaction of what 
 they think and say and do on what they are 
 is just as inevitable and just as decisive in 
 the one case as in the other. It is the duty 
 of each of us to deepen and purify his faith ; 
 and the best, perhaps the only way of doing 
 this is to utilize every opportunity of provi- 
 ding outlets for the imprisoned waters, and 
 so causing a constant current to set from the
 
 38 What is Philosophy? 
 
 deeper sources of spiritual reality in the direc- 
 tion of the individual life. 
 
 Now there are three chief outlets for the 
 hidden energies of faith. The first is that 
 of conduct ; the second is that of poetry (or 
 creative art) ; the third is that of thought. 
 Of these three oudets the third alone is of 
 special interest to us in our present inquiry. 
 The great problems of life cannot be solved 
 on the plane of thought, and yet it is our 
 duty to try to think them out. For con- 
 sciousness is, as we have recently seen, one 
 of the chief means of stimulating the uncon- 
 scious self into fresh activity. And so, if we 
 wish to deepen and strengthen our faith, if 
 we wish to make it live and grow, one of our 
 first duties is to try to become conscious of 
 it, to get to know (so far as may be possible) 
 what it really is. 
 
 To undertake this task is the function 
 of Philosophy. Philosophical* speculation is 
 something more than a mere pastime for our
 
 What is Philosophy? 39 
 
 idle hours, something more than a mere game 
 of skill, something more than a mere exercise 
 for our mental muscles. Hopeless though it 
 it and must ever be of any definite issue, 
 involved though it is and must ever be in a 
 logically vicious circle of thought, it is yet by 
 far the most important thing that a man can 
 do with his mind, the thinking part of him ; 
 and that, not because of any material result 
 that it will achieve (for it will never achieve 
 any), nor because of any scientific truth that 
 it will reach (for it will never reach any), but 
 because of its salutary reaction, its stimulating 
 influence on the inner life of the soul. For 
 as, when water is pumped up from a deep 
 well, fresh supplies from yet deeper sources 
 come in to take its place ; so, when a man's 
 sub-conscious faith is brought within the ken 
 of his consciousness, a yet profounder faith is 
 raised to the sub- conscious level, and the place 
 that this profounder faith has left empty is 
 filled by potencies of spiritual emotion which
 
 40 What is Philosophy? 
 
 are drawn from deeper and darker reservoirs, 
 till the quickening action of consciousness on 
 faith reaches at last to the darkest depths of 
 the inward life. Or as, when clouds are 
 sucked up by the sun from the bosom of the 
 sea, currents are generated which circulate 
 throuoh all the leng-th and breadth of the 
 ocean-world, and descend far into its depths, 
 so the ideas which consciousness distils from 
 the ocean of the "subliminal self" cause, as 
 they ascend into the ether of thought, a con- 
 tinuous stream of sub-conscious movement 
 which is the spiritual life of the soul as surely 
 as complete stagnation is its spiritual death. 
 
 To think about great matters with any 
 approach to lucidity is given to very few men. 
 To exercise the gift, if one happens to have 
 been dowered with it, is a high and sacred 
 duty. For, apart from the quickening in- 
 fluence of speculation on the buried life of the 
 Thinker, his thoughts, when systematized and 
 formulated, may well become the means of
 
 What is Philosophy? 41 
 
 helping- others to think and, through the 
 medium of thinking, to open new outlets for 
 the imprisoned waters of their faith. Systems 
 of thought, though always valueless as sys- 
 tems, are of immense and inexhaustible value, 
 as providing channels of communication be- 
 tween the mind of the Thinker and the minds 
 of those who are able to respond to his in- 
 fluence. The loneliest sage that ever wore 
 out his life in apparently fruitless meditation 
 was thinking, not for himself alone but for 
 all his fellow men. While he seemed to be 
 weaving mere webs of words, he was really 
 teaching thousands and tens of thousands of 
 men, teaching them, not by the cogency of 
 his logic but by the stimulating influence of 
 his thoughts, to think out the great problems 
 of life, and by so doing to strengthen their 
 souls to solve them.
 
 III. 
 
 IVkai do I really believe? is the first and 
 last question which, as a philosopher, I am 
 called upon to answer. As thought is ever 
 reacting upon and modifying feeling, it stands 
 to reason that the very process of my thinking 
 will transform the faith which is the object of 
 my thought. In other words, the very effort 
 that I make to elaborate an answer to my 
 question will make the answer, when given, 
 null and void. This much may be foreseen 
 at the outset ; yet it need not deter me from 
 proceeding. In its attempt to solve this per- 
 sonal problem. Philosophy is constrained, by 
 the very stress and bias of things, to become, 
 or try to become, impersonal. What is my 
 real attitude, the real attitude of my true self, 
 towards the world in which I find myself. 
 This attitude, whatever it may be, when con-
 
 What is Philosophy? 43 
 
 sciously realized, will take the form of a 
 general conception of myself and my environ- 
 ment, of an all-embracing " theory of things." 
 How is such a theory to be framed? In 
 part at least by the use of the faculty which 
 frames or helps to frame all theories, the 
 faculty which we call reason. If we ask 
 reason to work for us, we must expect it to 
 work in accordance with the laws of its being, 
 we must expect it to follow the methods that 
 happen to be congenial to its nature. Now 
 these methods will be best studied where they 
 work most successfully : and the field in which 
 they work most successfully is unquestionably 
 that of Science. As reason bears itself in 
 Science, so will it bear itself, imitatis mu- 
 tandis, in Philosophy. The essential features 
 of scientific method will be reproduced by 
 reason, when it applies itself to the study of 
 philosophical problems, reproduced just so far 
 as is compatible with the profoundly altered 
 conditions under which it will have to work.
 
 44 What is Philosophy? 
 
 In Philosophy, as in Science, reason will 
 start by assuming that Nature is worthy of 
 the trust that we instinctively repose in her, 
 and will infer from this assumption that the 
 guarantee of Nature is the ultimate criterion 
 of truth. What it is my nature to perceive, 
 that I do and must perceive. What it is my 
 nature to believe, that I do and must believe. 
 Here we come to the bedrock on which 
 reason builds all its structures, and from 
 which it quarries all its materials. 
 
 In Philosophy, as in Science, reason will 
 be inspired and guided by faith in the essen- 
 tial unity of Nature, and by the derivative 
 conviction that universality, whether actual 
 or potential, is the proof of naturalness, and 
 therefore the penultimate criterion of truth. 
 But the search for unity, which is so con- 
 genial to reason, will for obvious reasons 
 take a widely different form in philosophy 
 from what it takes in science. The student 
 of physical nature has to deal with what are
 
 What is Philosophy? 45 
 
 vulgarly called objective facts. These are 
 his materials, and in these he tries to discover 
 the underlying and unifying network of causes 
 and laws. The student of inward nature has 
 to deal with feelings and expressions of feel- 
 ing which are as changeable and evanescent 
 as the clouds on an April day ; and his work 
 is to discover the hidden reality of which 
 these, as they shift and pass, are the transient 
 forms and undecipherable symbols. The 
 physicist begins with certainty even when 
 he begins with doubt ; for though (to take 
 an example) he may not be able to explain 
 why the lawn is wet after a clear and cloud- 
 less night, he is quite certain that there is dew 
 on the grass. The universal element in per- 
 ception is ready to his hand ; and so he can 
 give his mind to the work of discovering the 
 universal element or elements in the things 
 that he perceives. The thinker can never 
 hope to escape from the task of searching for 
 the universal element in the inward expe-
 
 46 What is Philosophy? 
 
 riences, in the spiritual perceptions of man- 
 kind. Where the physicist begins, he aspires 
 to end, with that subjective universality which 
 provides the basis of certainty on which all 
 the structures of science are built. But in 
 truth he has never done with beginning. The 
 depths of the inner life are unfathomable ; 
 and in his attempt to explore them he is ever 
 laying foundations on which he will never be 
 able to build. 
 
 But, however hopeless may be the search 
 for universality in belief, it will have to be 
 made. Indeed it is clear from what has just 
 been said, that when reason undertakes the 
 task which I have set it, the task of deter- 
 mining the real tendencies of my own inner 
 life, its first assumption — that Nature is the 
 fountain of truth — will at once have to be 
 reinforced and even interpreted by its second 
 assumption, — that universality is the proof 
 and measure of Nature. What it is my 
 nature to believe that I do and must believe;
 
 What is Philosophy? 47 
 
 and if I could but ascertain what I really am, 
 I should be in possession of ideal truth, or of 
 so much of it as it is possible for me to assi- 
 milate. But how am I to distinguish the 
 real from the apparent tendencies of my 
 inner life? How am I to find out what 
 Nature sanctions me in believing or (shall I 
 say ?) constrains me to believe ? Evidently, 
 if I am to follow, at however great a dis- 
 tance, the lead of Science, by determining 
 the universal element In faith. I must try 
 to discover the lineaments of that vital and 
 essential humanity which, when brought 
 within the scope (so far as that is possible) 
 of my Individual being, makes me what I 
 really am. I must try to read myself through 
 the medium of my kind. 
 
 Now there are two ways and two only of 
 searchlnof- for the universal element in thinors. 
 
 o o 
 
 We must try to determine either their great- 
 est common measure of differential actuality, 
 or what I may provisionally call their com-
 
 48 What is Philosophy? 
 
 mon ideal. It will be found that the greatest 
 common measure of actuality in similar things 
 is, as a rule, but one degree removed from 
 nothing, and that the greatest common mea- 
 sure of differential actuality is, as a rule, 
 exactly nothing. More especially is this the 
 case when we deal with the phenomena of 
 life. Let us take the case of a hundred 
 peaches, in various stages of development, 
 from the hard green excrescence which has 
 but just shed its bloom up to the ripe and 
 luscious fruit. What have these in common? 
 Actually, nothing. Potentially, the perfec- 
 tion of peach-hood. The universal element 
 in them is the type which all exemplify, the 
 ideal which all are striving to realize. So, 
 again, — to pass to a higher level of life — if 
 we were to examine all the poems that had 
 been written since the world began, with a 
 view to determining what poetry really is, 
 we should have to admit that their greatest 
 common measure of differential actuality was
 
 What is Philosophy? 49 
 
 exactly nothing, and that what was really 
 common to them all was the ideal which they 
 had striven in their several ways to realize, — • 
 an ideal, the nature of which could best be 
 ascertained by studying the acknowledged 
 masterpieces of song. 
 
 As it is with peaches and with poems, so 
 it is with those inward and spiritual pheno- 
 mena which Philosophy seeks to interpret. 
 Here, indeed, the idea of finding a common 
 measure of actuality must be abandoned at 
 the very outset. In the region of the inner 
 life, with its ceaseless ferment of spiritual 
 forces, there is no actuality. Everything is 
 eV yev6(T€c, in process of development. It is 
 the greatest common measure of potentiality 
 that we need to determine ; and the search 
 for this will as certainly carry us towards in- 
 finity — the infinity of unattainable perfection 
 — as the search for the greatest common 
 measure of actuality will carry us towards 
 zero. If peaches, in their various stages of 
 
 £
 
 5o What is Philosophy? 
 
 development, have nothing in common but 
 the potentiality of ideal peach-hood ; if poems, 
 of all sorts and kinds, have nothing in com- 
 mon but the potentiality of ideal or perfect 
 poetry ; does it not follow, a fortiori, that 
 there is nothing common to the various faiths 
 of men except the ideal which all are strug- 
 gling to realize, and by which all are animated 
 and sustained ? The faith of the best of men 
 is an imperfect embodiment of this ideal. 
 The faith of the average man is but an em- 
 bryonic form of it. The faith of the most 
 degraded of men is its apparently lifeless 
 seed. But it is itself in all faiths, from lowest 
 to highest, as surely as the peach-nature, with 
 all its possibilities of sweetness and beauty, is 
 in all peaches, from the least developed to 
 the most mature. 
 
 Here then, as elsewhere, and here if no- 
 where else, that universal element in things 
 which is the proof of Nature, and as such the 
 counterpart of reality and truth, is the ideal.
 
 What is Philosophy? 51 
 
 To determine what I do believe, what the 
 real faith of my soul is, is to determine what 
 I ought to believe. In trying to determine 
 this, reason, whose function is to introduce 
 unity into multiplicity and order into chaos, 
 will be undertaking a congenial task. For 
 here, as elsewhere, and here if nowhere else, 
 the ideal is the unifying and organizing ele- 
 ment in things, the all-pervading bond of 
 kinship, the paramount principle of harmony 
 and order. 
 
 The search for what is universal in faith 
 transforms itself at the outset into the search 
 for ideal faith. I have already pointed out 
 that faith, when consciously realized, becomes 
 a quasi -philosophical conception, a quasi - 
 theory of the Universe. If this be so, then 
 the search for ideal faith, when undertaken 
 by reason, must needs become a search for 
 nothing less than the true " theory of things," 
 the ideal goal of all speculative thought. 
 
 But how is such a theory to be evolved ? 
 
 E — 2
 
 52 What is Philosophy? 
 
 Can we hope to reproduce in philosophy 
 those inductive processes of Science by 
 which theories are distilled from experience? 
 I think not. In Science induction is practic- 
 able because physical phenomena are the 
 same, qua phenomena, for all who perceive 
 them. But in philosophy the facts that offer 
 themselves for our investigation — the leading- 
 phenomena of man's inward and spiritual life 
 — will tell us nothing, will have no definite 
 phenomenal existence, until we have begun 
 to interpret them ; and it is only by the light 
 of our general conception of Nature that we 
 can attempt to interpret them. Moreover, 
 in our search for the ideal element in faith, 
 we must follow the phenomena of human 
 faith inward and inward into that darkness 
 of the buried life which is the ultimate source 
 of ideal truth. And this means that we 
 must turn our backs on them qua pheno7nena, 
 always preferring the unconscious to the 
 conscious testimony of the human soul, and
 
 What is Philosophy ? 53 
 
 always ignoring outward facts until they have 
 yielded up their inner meaning, which, of 
 course, they will not begin to do (for each 
 man in turn must wrest their meaninor from 
 them) until we have studied them from the 
 standpoint of our own dominant conceptions. 
 Even in Science the inductive processes 
 are, as a rule, greatly abridged by the use 
 that is made of hypotheses. The part that 
 imagination plays in scientific investigation 
 has not been ignored by the students of 
 scientific method, but I doubt if full justice 
 has ever been done to it. The experience 
 and the imagination of the physicist are ever 
 acting and reacting on one another. From 
 first to last he selects, arranges, and studies 
 his facts by the light of the successive hypo- 
 theses which his experience of the facts sug- 
 gests to his mind. These hypotheses may 
 or may not be consciously realized ; it is pro- 
 bable that many of them have but a sub- 
 conscious existence ; but their work is not
 
 54 What is Philosophy? 
 
 the less effective because it is carried on for 
 the most part in secret. 
 
 This feature of scientific method is, I 
 think, the very Alpha and Omega of philo- 
 sophic method, its starting point, its road, 
 and its goal. Disguise it from ourselves as 
 we may, a system of thought is nothing but 
 an expanded and elaborated guess. The 
 personality of the thinker — itself an abori- 
 ginal and inalienable assumption — controls 
 the whole movement of his thought and pre- 
 determines its ultimate issue. The genesis 
 of his master-hypothesis is a subtle and com- 
 plicated process, the steps in which cannot 
 be set forth with any approach to precision, 
 while the part that reason actually plays in it 
 is wrapped in inscrutable mystery. To put 
 forward one's "theory of things" as a conclu- 
 sion rather than an assumption, to pretend to 
 have generalized it from experience, to have 
 evolved it from the observation and investiga- 
 tion of appropriate facts, would savour either
 
 What is Philosophy ? 55 
 
 of dishonesty or of self-deception. Not for 
 a moment are we to ignore the salient facts 
 of our spiritual life. Confronting us, as they 
 do, at every turn, these facts will not suffer 
 us to ignore them ; and, if we are wise, we 
 shall make them the objects, if not of scien- 
 tific study, then of lifelong meditation. But 
 we must not flatter ourselves that we have 
 logically "gathered" from them the very 
 theory of life, the very way of looking at 
 things which has made them what they are 
 — to us. It is not by furnishing us with the 
 data for any quasi-scientific process of induc- 
 tion that these inward phenomena help us to 
 frame our theories of things, but by actually 
 influencing our thoughts and feelings. That 
 in the movement of our inner life there is 
 somethinsf of the nature of an induction from 
 the facts that environ it is more than probable ; 
 but the process is so wholly instinctive and 
 unconscious, so entirely under the control of 
 the secret and quasi-objective logic of Nature,
 
 56 What is Philosophy? 
 
 that the name of induction, with its scientific 
 associations, cannot well be applied to it. 
 
 When a hypothesis has been framed its 
 worth has to be tested. How is this done ? 
 By seeing how it works. Can this feature 
 of scientific method be reproduced in Phi- 
 losophy ? Consciously to reproduce it is 
 impracticable, as impracticable and, if at- 
 tempted, as delusive, as the reproduction in 
 Philosophy of the inductive processes of 
 Science. If we draw deductions from our 
 "theory of things," and then try to prove 
 that these are borne out by experience, 
 we lay ourselves open to the charge of 
 having interpreted our facts by the light 
 of the very hypothesis which we are ask- 
 in"" them to substantiate. As for testing" 
 a philosophical theory experimentally, — the 
 man who frames such a theory can, if he 
 pleases, live by it and see how it works : but 
 this experimental test will have no scientific 
 value ; for, however convincing it may be to
 
 What is Philosophy ? 57 
 
 the experimenter, it is in the main too inward, 
 too subjective, to appeal to anyone but him ; 
 and so far as it does produce perceptible re- 
 sults, these will suggest different conclusions 
 to, and will even be referred to different causes 
 by, different minds. That one's theory of life 
 is subjected to a searching test in the buried 
 life of the soul can scarcely be doubted ; but 
 the steps in this process cannot be traced nor 
 its correctness (in the logical sense of the 
 word) determined. Yet the process has an 
 issue, and one the meaning of which cannot 
 easily be mistaken. Give your theory to 
 that sub-conscious part of you from which 
 your reason professed to distil it : let your 
 heart and soul live with it and brood over it 
 and try to assimilate it, and they will test its 
 worth. Reason has evolved the theory by 
 helping the individual soul to become con- 
 scious of its faith, by helping it to read itself 
 and interpret itself through the medium of 
 sympathy with and insight into the "general
 
 58 What is Philosophy? 
 
 heart of man." And reason must test the 
 theory by referring it back to the individual 
 soul. Reason must say to the soul, "Are 
 you content with this ? Do you rest in it ? 
 Is it really yours?" And, having asked 
 these questions, reason must help the soul to 
 answer them. For here again the individual 
 soul must try to read itself, under the guid- 
 ance of reason, through the medium of the 
 souls of others. When it verifies the theory 
 that is submitted to it. when it asks, " Does 
 this content me ? " it must as far as possible 
 universalize itself, it must take Humanity 
 into partnership with itself, it must feel the 
 "general heart" beating in its own. 
 
 Reason, then, must verify the hypotheses 
 of the thinker ; but only as the agent and in- 
 terpreter of the thinker's own inner life. It 
 must not dream of subjecting them to any 
 special or quasi-professional tests of its own. 
 It must not expect them to be rational, in 
 the narrower sense of the word. It must not
 
 What is Philosophy ? 59 
 
 require them to have been logically deduced 
 from self-evident premises, or logically in- 
 duced from indisputable facts. Its business 
 is to help the soul to test them by its own 
 secret, subtle, assimilative methods, and to 
 accept or reject them according as they 
 have satisfied or failed to satisfy the de- 
 mands and desires of man's inmost self It 
 is in this way and no other that reason can 
 judge of their merits. By dying to itself as 
 reason it will live again in that inner life 
 which it has quickened and strengthened just 
 so far as it has helped it to know itself For 
 as it advances into that shadowy region, it 
 gradually assimilates to itself the insight and 
 imagination of the life which it explores. In 
 other words, the distinction between the ra- 
 tional and emotional sides of man's nature, 
 between reason and faith, gradually effaces 
 itself, and out of the fusion of these apparent 
 opposites emerges the higher unity of the in- 
 divisible soul. This — the soul, the whole
 
 6o What is Philosophy? 
 
 inner beintr of man — is the supreme Court 
 of Appeal in philosophy. A true theory of 
 life is one which satisfies the paramount needs 
 of man's inner nature, one which the soul of 
 man can embrace and draw into itself and 
 make its own. And the final proof of the 
 theory being true is that it is entirely re- 
 absorbed into those ocean depths of uncon- 
 scious spirituality, in which truth loses Itself 
 in reality, and from which (if the theory is 
 true, and just so far as it is true) it originally 
 came. The fierce light of consciousness is 
 ever distillino; a haze of thouorht from the 
 great sea of the " vie profonde " ; but sooner 
 or later (if it has really come from that sea, 
 and is no mere mirage of the thinker's brain) 
 the haze will condense into feeling, and return, 
 as a stream of emotion, to its eternal source. 
 As is the test to which the theorist looks 
 forward, such, in its broad outlines, should 
 be the theory which he is preparing for veri- 
 fication. When a physicist is framing a hypo-
 
 What is Philosophy? 6i 
 
 thesis he always looks forward, perhaps half 
 unconsciously, to the tests that it will have to 
 undergo ; and his design in framing" it is to 
 enable it to stand those tests and emerge un- 
 scathed from their ordeal. Something akin 
 to this should take place in high thinking. 
 When the thinker is feeling his way towards 
 his master conception of life and Nature, he 
 should keep steadily in view the searching 
 test that the conception will have to undergo 
 when he submits it to the judgment of his 
 inner life. He must say to himself, if not in 
 words, then in thoughts that lie deeper than 
 words : " However my theory of things may 
 be evolved and whatever form it may take, 
 one thing about it is clear : it must give satis- 
 faction, or at any rate provide for satisfaction 
 being given, to those master desires with 
 which Nature — the nature that is truly mine 
 because I share it with all men — with which 
 Nature, in and through the evolution of her 
 own master tendencies, has inspired my heart."
 
 IV. 
 
 We are now able to set Philosophy a dis- 
 tinct and definite task. If a philosophical 
 theory is to be regarded as true or false 
 according as it is accepted or rejected by 
 the oreneral heart and soul of man, then it 
 is certain that the final function of Philo- 
 sophy is, not to search for abstract truth 
 but to minister on the plane of conscious 
 thought to the latent optimism in which the 
 life, not of man alone but of all living things, 
 is securely rooted. The dream of the thinker 
 is to see things from the standpoint of the 
 true self, of the ideal man. But what is the 
 true self? As the being of man is still in 
 process of development, we must endeavour, 
 by ascertaining its central tendencies, to de- 
 termine the law of its growth or, in the 
 language of mathematics, the equation to its
 
 What is Philosophy ? 63 
 
 curve ; and in order to ascertain its central 
 tendencies, we must study its dominant de- 
 sires. There is no other field in which the 
 real movement of human nature can be so 
 clearly traced. A natural desire is the con- 
 scious or semi-conscious realization of a na- 
 tural bias ; and a natural bias is generated 
 by the strain of natural forces, operating in a 
 certain direction and with a certain measure 
 of persistence and strength. Ignoring, as 
 we have every right to do, those elements in 
 desire which are morbid, or local, or tempo- 
 rary, or otherwise exceptional, we are justified 
 in saying that all our desires, from lowest to 
 highest, have arisen in response to Nature's 
 hints, and in the course of our effort to utilize 
 her resources and adapt ourselves to her facts 
 and laws. And as it has been, so it always 
 will be. It is through the medium of desire 
 that man — like every other organism — keeps 
 open his communications with his own ideal, 
 the attractive force of which is the mainspring
 
 64 What is Philosophy ? 
 
 of his highest energies and the counterpart of 
 his highest aims. It is through the medium 
 of desire that the ideal invites us to pursue 
 it ; and as the germ of the ideal which is in 
 every heart struggles to evolve itself, our 
 desires are the growing pains that bear wit- 
 ness to its eternal effort to live. If the aim 
 of the thinker is to see things as the ideal 
 man sees them, then it is well that he should 
 submit his "guesses at truth" to the judg- 
 ment of the heart's desires ; for these are not 
 merely the heralds of the ideal's advent but 
 the actual influx of its dawning light. 
 
 That the theory of things which provides 
 for the satisfaction of the heart's desires is 
 bound to be optimistic, in the best sense of 
 the word, is a self-evident truth. Desire is 
 always a movement towards what seems to 
 be good. Indeed it is only in terms of desire 
 that the word good will allow itself to be de- 
 fined ; for it is only in response to the stress 
 and pressure of desire that the idea of good
 
 What is Philosophy? 65 
 
 has evolved and shaped itself in our minds. 
 To debate the question of Nature's goodness 
 is therefore an impertinence, — the outcome of 
 an inextricable confusion of thought. What 
 right have we to bring the totality of things 
 under the category of goodness when our own 
 conceptions of what is good have ever been 
 and will ever be subordinate to and depen- 
 dent on those central movements of desire in 
 and through which Nature discloses to us her 
 secrets and announces to us her will ? But we 
 need not trouble ourselves to expose the fal- 
 lacies of pessimism. The necessity of optim- 
 ism is, in the last resort, physical, not logical. 
 In the use that I have made of the v^or^ faith 
 I may have seemed to prejudge this vital 
 question, but I used the word because I could 
 not help myself, because there was no other 
 word that could take its place. Wherever 
 there is life there is desire, and wherever 
 there is desire there is trust. In this dual 
 feeling — dual, because desire without trust is
 
 66 What is Philosophy? 
 
 wholly ineffective, while trust without desire 
 is purely passive — we come to what is abori- 
 ginal and protoplasmic in man's attitude 
 towards the world in which he finds himself. 
 From the least of plants up to the greatest of 
 men all living things are incurable optimists. 
 Nature has already convinced us, as she has 
 convinced all living things, has convinced us 
 in the secret recesses of our souls, that life is 
 worth living. The highest achievement of 
 Philosophy is to convince our minds of the 
 same fundamental truth. And this will prove 
 to be no easy task. For trust in Nature, 
 when consciously accepted and realized, dis- 
 closes in itself inexhaustible potentialities of 
 hope and joy, and, in order to justify these to 
 the mind that discerns them, demands from 
 reason a theory of things so daringly opti- 
 mistic that not this world and this life only, 
 but all the realms and phases of existence, 
 shall be transfigured by the glow of its trium- 
 phant faith.
 
 What is Philosophy? 67 
 
 Philosophy then is in its essence a search 
 for an optimistic explanation of life. That 
 there are pessimists among thinkers as well 
 as among ordinary men is undeniable, but the 
 fact does not disconcert me. The philosophy 
 that originates in a pessimistic sentiment and 
 ends in a pessimistic theory is, on its own 
 showing, an enterprise which has miscarried, 
 an expedition which has gone astray. For 
 the presence of doubt and despair shows that 
 the heart is dissatisfied with its outlook on 
 life, and is seeking, perhaps unknown to itself, 
 for spiritual help and comfort ; and the thinker 
 who, instead of dissipating its gloom, does but 
 intensify it, has evidently failed to fulfil his 
 mission, — failed because he never told himself 
 what his mission really was. The chief reason 
 why the enterprises of Philosophy so often 
 and so grievously miscarry is that from the 
 very outset they are aimless ventures, those 
 who organize them having never consciously 
 realized what it is that they are striving to
 
 68 What is Philosophy? 
 
 discover. The first and most decisive stage 
 in the speculative movement of the mind will 
 have been successfully accomplished when the 
 thinker has convinced himself that his busi- 
 ness is to seek for a world-embracing con- 
 ception which shall right all wrongs, heal all 
 wounds, disperse all clouds, make all rough 
 places smooth, satisfy all our higher desires, 
 fulfil all our nobler dreams, give us " in limit- 
 less floods" the light towards which we in- 
 stinctively turn, — to seek for this, assuming 
 at the outset that this explanation of life, and 
 no other, is true. 
 
 For with this goal before him it becomes 
 possible for the thinker to map out the earlier 
 stages of his road. He must begin by assu- 
 ming that happiness is man's ideal destiny, 
 and that the light of ideal goodness and 
 beauty burns at the heart of Nature. He 
 must then devise a theory of things which 
 will bring the admitted facts of existence 
 into harmony with these hypothetical truths.
 
 What is Philosophy ? 69 
 
 He will of course interpret the admitted 
 facts of existence by the aid of his opti- 
 mistic faith. Consciously or unconsciously, 
 he must read his own prejudices and postu- 
 lates into the facts that he studies ; and, that 
 being so, it is well that he should deliberately 
 read into them a postulate which he has delib- 
 erately accepted and made his own. It is (as 
 we have seen) by his subjective interpretation 
 of the great facts that confront him that each 
 man in turn makes them what they are — to 
 him. In every spiritual phenomenon there 
 is a residuum of what, for want of a fitter 
 phrase, I may perhaps call objective fact. 
 But we must always carefully distinguish be- 
 tween this residuum of fact and those subjec- 
 tive interpretations of it which we are so 
 often called upon to accept as objectively 
 true. For example, that there is moral evil 
 in the world is a fact. That "the heart of 
 man is desperately wicked " is a subjective 
 interpretation of this fact. That evil is only
 
 70 What is Philosophy? 
 
 **good in the making" is a subjective in- 
 terpretation of a widely different character. 
 That there is suffering in the world is a fact. 
 That "the whole creation groaneth and tra- 
 vaileth together " is one interpretation of this 
 fact. That this is an unjust and cruel world 
 is another. That pain purifies the heart and 
 expands the soul is a third. That death is 
 the end of man's bodily life on earth is a 
 fact. That death " is the end of life " is one 
 interpretation of this fact. That death is the 
 "usherer into heavenly mansions" is another. 
 That beyond death there is a "grand peut- 
 etre " is a third. In each of these cases the 
 idiosyncrasy of the thinker enters into quasi- 
 chemical combination with the fact which he 
 contemplates, and transforms it into a subjec- 
 tive fact to which (in all probability) he un- 
 consciously ascribes objective existence. 
 
 What is the thinker to do if the admitted 
 facts of existence seem to give the lie to his 
 optimism.-* He must take pains to show
 
 What is Philosophy? 71 
 
 that they do not give the lie to it, that their 
 antagonism to it is apparent, not real. This 
 or that interpretation of this or that fact may 
 contradict his primary postulate ; but the 
 darker facts of existence are, quel objective 
 facts, finite and actual ; and as his faith di- 
 rects itself towards the infinite and the ideal, 
 there can be no lasting controversy between 
 their darkness and its light. His faith there- 
 fore must coalesce with the facts that seem 
 to be at war with it ; and while it disarms 
 their hostility and brings light into their 
 darkness, it will itself be strengthened and 
 widened, it will be transformed into its own 
 true self, by the very effort that it makes to 
 assimilate their meaning to its own. With 
 this end in view, the thinker will try to frame 
 a conception of life and Nature, so large and 
 all-embracing that there will be room and to 
 spare within its illimitable limits for man's 
 darker experiences to harmonize with his 
 brightest hopes ; so subtle and all-pervading
 
 72 What is Philosophy? 
 
 that it will disarm opposition, not by sweep- 
 ing aside the obstacles that confront it but by 
 interpenetrating them and passing beyond 
 them. He will try to convince us that sin 
 and suffering are only incidents in the deve- 
 lopment of mighty forces, — forces which need 
 for their full and final evolution a boundless 
 arena and an immeasurable range of time. 
 Or, he will so construct in thought the mas- 
 ter curve of existence, that after leading up to 
 and passing through the points of sin and 
 suffering, it will, in obedience to the law of 
 its own movement, pass on in the direction 
 of ideal good. In order to ensure that che 
 natural evolution of the curve shall carry it 
 towards this infinitely distant goal, he may 
 find it necessary to make it pass through 
 imaginary points, — points which lie beyond 
 the actual, and, as far as we can see at pre- 
 sent, the possible range of our experience. 
 If such points are needed, they must be pro- 
 vided. The philosophy that fails to use the
 
 What is Philosophy? 73 
 
 wings of imagination will not go far. If the 
 thinker finds that purely imaginative hypo- 
 theses are needed for the elaboration of his 
 theory of things, he must not hesitate to 
 supply them. If, for example, he finds it 
 necessary to extend the range of life beyond 
 its apparent limits, let him extend it freely 
 and fearlessly. If he finds it necessary to 
 postulate the immortality or the pre-exis- 
 tence of the soul, let him boldly do so. If 
 he finds it necessary to assume that he is as 
 free as he feels himself to be, let him, in the 
 strength of this feeling, break through the 
 flimsy webs of question-begging arguments 
 in which Necessism is ever striving to en- 
 tangle his mind. If he finds it necessary to 
 assume that there are other planes of exis- 
 tence than the physical world, let him make 
 the assumption without a moment's hesita- 
 tion. He will of course put forward no hypo- 
 thesis which can possibly be disproved ; and 
 if he is wise he will not labour over-sedu-
 
 74 What is Philosophy? 
 
 lously to prove what is unprovable, and what, 
 as it happens, he is free to assume. To wait 
 obsequiously on facts is the role of Science, 
 not of Philosophy. The thinker who refuses 
 to go beyond facts confines his energies to 
 regions from which he is always liable to be 
 expelled as an intruder. Philosophy has as 
 much in common with Poetry as with Science. 
 If it is to borrow something of aim and method 
 from the latter, let it borrow some measure 
 of imagination from the former. It is only 
 by swinging to and fro between Science and 
 Poetry, by refusing to surrender to the attrac- 
 tive force of either, that Philosophy can re- 
 main true to itself. 
 
 Am I serious when I say that optimism 
 is the end and imagination the way of specu- 
 lative thought? Yes, quite serious. For 
 what is our alternative ? The pseudo-scien- 
 tific pursuit of abstract truth. Philosophy 
 must aim at giving satisfaction either to the 
 whole man — the real, living, many-sided self
 
 What is Philosophy ? 75 
 
 — in which case it will end by becoming op- 
 timistic and imaginative ; or to the merely 
 logical self, in which case it will end by pur- 
 suinof a shadow throucfh a maze of mean- 
 ineless words. It must make its choice 
 between the desires of the heart and the 
 figments of the brain, between the imagina- 
 tion that goes far beyond facts and the ver- 
 bal ingenuity that travels far wide of them. 
 Knowing, as he needs must do, that the in- 
 ductive and experimental processes of Science 
 are out of place in Philosophy, the thinker is 
 prone to indulge in the dream of reaching 
 pure truth by drawing correct inferences from 
 indisputable premises. But of all dreams this 
 is the vainest. To begin with, there are no 
 indisputable premises in Philosophy. What 
 is indisputable for one man, is doubtful for 
 another, meaningless for a third, incredible 
 for a fourth. The personal element is sure 
 to assert itself, and cannot possibly be elimi- 
 nated. And even if one could start from
 
 76 What is Philosophy? 
 
 premises as to the truth of which there was 
 a general consensus of opinion, it would be 
 useless to deal with these premises syllogis- 
 tically unless one could find some medium of 
 expression other than that of human speech. 
 For words are not mathematical symbols, 
 and it is idle to deal with them as if they 
 were. In arguments which advance, as philo- 
 sophical arguments so often do, through a 
 series of "therefores" from plausible premises 
 to logically sound conclusions, there is always 
 a serious risk of the words that are used di- 
 verging, as they pass from context to context, 
 from their original sense, with the result that 
 they become less and less adequate to the 
 things that they name, and less and less 
 faithful to the experiences that they are sup- 
 posed to express; and when once this process 
 of divergence has begun, each step that the 
 thinker takes will widen the gap between 
 symbol and reality, until at last, when he 
 reaches the goal of demonstrated truth, the
 
 What is Philosophy ? 77 
 
 conclusion that confronts him will prove 
 to be as hollow as a dream. If a thought 
 is be logically developed, it must start by 
 being— what no high thought can possibly be 
 — flawlessly true: the least taint of imperfec- 
 tion will spread so rapidly in the atmosphere 
 of the syllogism that, long before the argu- 
 ment has reached its conclusion, the heart 
 of the thought will have been eaten away, 
 and what was once a living idea will have 
 been changed into a husk of empty words. 
 Against this danger — the deadliest that be- 
 sets the path of speculation — there is but 
 one effectual safeguard. The thinker must 
 submit all his conclusions — his subsidiary 
 conceptions, as well as his dominant convic- 
 tions — to the test of feeling. He must ask 
 himself again and again, "Do I feel the truth 
 of this proposition ? Can I really see a 
 meaning in it ? Does it satisfy the require- 
 ments of that deeper reason which is emo- 
 tional rather than intellectual, and which has
 
 78 What is Philosophy? 
 
 a logic of its own of whose processes I can 
 give no account? In fine, does it appeal to 
 my heart?" The regeneration of physical 
 science dates from the time when men began 
 to realize that scientific theories — logical 
 deductions from verbal premises — count for 
 nothing when they conflict with the evidence 
 (direct or indirect) of the bodily senses. If 
 Philosophy is ever to be regenerated, men 
 will have to convince themselves that philo- 
 sophical theories count for nothing when 
 they conflict with the evidence — the genuine 
 evidence — of spiritual emotion. The logical 
 flow of words, however plausible it may be, 
 suffers inevitable defeat the moment it meets 
 the counter current of a natural tendency, — 
 " The central stream of what men feel indeed." 
 I have suggested that perpetual oscilla- 
 tion between the opposite poles of Poetry 
 and Science constitutes the very life-pulse of 
 Philosophy. If this be so, then the appeal 
 to the heart for the verification of its theories
 
 What is Philosophy? 79 
 
 is as vital a part of the work of Philosophy 
 as is the appeal to reason for the solution of 
 its problems. The swing back towards emo- 
 tion, towards personality, towards Poetry, 
 is the very counterpart of the swing forward 
 towards reason, towards impersonality, to- 
 wards Science. Each movement implies and 
 demands the other. The Philosophy that 
 cannot swing back towards Poetry has evi- 
 dently succumbed to the attractive force of 
 Science, and in doing so has ceased to be 
 itself.
 
 V. 
 
 And now for my answer to our unanswer- 
 able question. Philosophy, as I understand 
 the word, is a systematic attempt — personal 
 in its inception but ever tending to become 
 impersonal — to interpret and present to con- 
 sciousness the real faith, the real attitude 
 towards things in general, of a man's inmost 
 self. The attempt is made by imagination,^ 
 introspective, sympathetic, and in the last re- 
 sort constructive— working under the general 
 supervision of reason. All world-embracing 
 ideas originate in the heart — in the emotional 
 side of man's inner life, — and all world-em- 
 bracing theories must be referred back to the 
 heart for approval. The value of the effort 
 of thinking is that it quickens the inner life, 
 bringing its deeper and therefore more uni-
 
 What is Philosophy? 8i 
 
 versal elements within the compass of the 
 man's personality, and thereby rendering the 
 heart, at the end of the process of thinking, 
 a more competent judge of any theory that 
 may be submitted to it than it was before the 
 process began. The thinker starts with his 
 own individuality ; but the very effort that 
 he makes to become conscious of this com- 
 pels him to universalize it, compels him to 
 find, or try to find, the general heart in his 
 own. As the heart turns towards the lisfht 
 of ideal good, as naturally and inevitably as 
 plants turn towards the light of the sun, it is 
 clear that no theory can permanently content 
 it which does not brinor lig-ht into its life, — 
 not indeed the blinding light of the ideal, 
 but the promise of its advent, the light of 
 a far-reaching and world-illuminating hope. 
 From this position I, for one, pass on to 
 what is for me the conclusion of the whole 
 matter, namely, — that the function of Philo- 
 sophy is to interpret and justify to matis 
 
 G
 
 82 What is Philosophy? 
 
 reason the unconquerable optimism of his 
 hea7't. 
 
 I shall be told that all this simply means 
 that I, for one, am an incurable and impeni- 
 tent optimist. Perhaps it does ; but even if 
 it means no more than this, it means a great 
 deal — to me. For the lifelong effort that I 
 hav^e made to lift my faith into the light of 
 consciousness and to transform it first into a 
 comprehensive theory of things and then into 
 a master principle of action, — this effort, 
 though otherwise barren of result, has so 
 deepened and widened the flood of my faith, 
 so quickened its current, so stimulated its 
 intercourse with the mysterious fountains 
 that feed it, that, through the channel which 
 my thoughts have provided for it, it now 
 overflows into my life in strongly pulsing 
 waves of hope and joy. 
 
 I am not an adept at Philosophy. I am 
 not even a serious student of it. I belong to 
 no school. I can pronounce no shibboleth.
 
 What is Philosophy? 83 
 
 My attempt to think out the <^reat problems 
 of life has been in the highest degree in- 
 formal, unscientific, unprofessional, untech- 
 nical ; but, such as it is, it has always been 
 to me " its own exceeding great reward."
 
 Br THE SAMS cAUTHOT^ 
 
 WHAT IS 
 POETRY ? 
 
 AN ESSAY: BY 
 EDMOND HOLMES 
 
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 Sr THE SAME tAUrHOl^ 
 
 WALT WHITMAN 
 
 AN ESSAY. With a Selection 
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 EDMOND HO LM ES 
 
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 'BY THE SAME JIUTHOT^ 
 
 THE SILENCE 
 OF LOVE 
 
 BY EDMOND HOLMES 
 
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 THE TRIUMPH 
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