CONGRESS OF ARTS AND SCIENCE

UNIVERSAL EXPOSITION ST. LOUIS

SEPTEMBER 19-25 1904

PROGRAMME AND LIST OF SPEAKERS

PROGRAMME

Purpose and Plan of the Congress

Organization of the Congress

Speakers and Chairmen

Chronological Order of Proceedings

Programme of Social Events

List of Ten-minute Speakers

List of Chairmen and Principal Speakers

INDEX SUBJECTS

Division A. NormativeScience
	Department 1. Philosophy
Sec.	A.	Metaphysics
	B.	Philosophy ofReligion
	C.	Logic
	D.	Methodology ofScience
	E.	Ethics
	F.	Æsthetics
	Department 2. Mathematics
Sec.	A.	Algebra and Analysis
	B.	Geometry
	C.	AppliedMathematics
Division B. HistoricalScience
	Department 3. Political and EconomicHistory
Sec.	A.	History of Asia
	B.	History of Greeceand Rome
	C.	MediævalHistory
	D.	Modern History ofEurope
	E.	History ofAmerica
	F.	History ofEconomic Institutions
	Department 4. History ofLaw
Sec.	A.	History of Roman Law
	B.	History of CommonLaw
	C.	ComparativeLaw
	Department 5. History ofLanguage
Sec.	A.	Comparative Language
	B.	SemiticLanguage
	C.	Indo-IranianLanguages
	D.	GreekLanguage
	E.	LatinLanguage
	F.	EnglishLanguage
	G.	RomanceLanguages
	H.	GermanicLanguages
	Department 6. History ofLiterature
Sec.	A.	Indo-Iranian Literature
	B.	ClassicalLiterature
	C.	EnglishLiterature
	D.	RomanceLiterature
	E.	GermanicLiterature
	F.	SlavicLiterature
	G.	Belles-Lettres
	Department 7. History ofArt
Sec.	A.	Classical Art
	B.	ModernArchitecture
	C.	ModernPainting
	Department 8. History ofReligion
Sec.	A.	Brahminism and Buddhism
	B.	Mohammedism
	C.	OldTestament
	D.	NewTestament
	E.	History of theChristian Church
Division C. PhysicalScience
	Department 9. Physics
Sec.	A.	Physics of Matter
	B.	Physics ofEther
	C.	Physics of theElectron
	Department 10. Chemistry
Sec.	A.	Inorganic Chemistry
	B.	OrganicChemistry
	C.	PhysicalChemistry
	D.	PhysiologicalChemistry
	Department 11. Astronomy
Sec.	A.	Astrometry
	B.	Astrophysics
	Department 12. Sciences of theEarth
Sec.	A.	Geophysics
	B.	Geology
	C.	Palæontology
	D.	Petrology andMineralogy
	E.	Physiography
	F.	Geography
	G.	Oceanography
	H.	CosmicalPhysics
	Department 13. Biology
Sec.	A.	Phylogeny
	B.	PlantMorphology
	C.	PlantPhysiology
	D.	PlantPathology
	E.	Ecology
	F.	Bacteriology
	G.	AnimalMorphology
	H.	Embryology
	I.	ComparativeAnatomy
	J.	HumanAnatomy
	K.	Physiology
	Department 14.Anthropology
Sec.	A.	Somatology
	B.	Archæology
	C.	Ethnology
Division D. MentalScience
	Department 15. Psychology
Sec.	A.	General Psychology
	B.	ExperimentalPsychology
	C.	Comparative andGenetic Psychology
	D.	AbnormalPsychology
	Department 16. Sociology
Sec.	A.	Social Structure
	B.	SocialPsychology
Division E. UtilitarianSciences
	Department 17. Medicine
Sec.	A.	Public Health
	B.	PreventiveMedicine
	C.	Pathology
	D.	Therapeutics andPharmacology
	E.	InternalMedicine
	F.	Neurology
	G.	Psychiatry
	H.	Surgery
	I.	Gynecology
	J.	Ophthalmology
	K.	Otology andLaryngology
	L.	Pediatrics
	Department 18. Technology
Sec.	A.	Civil Engineering
	B.	MechanicalEngineering
	C.	ElectricalEngineering
	D.	MiningEngineering
	E.	TechnicalChemistry
	F.	Agriculture
	Department 19. Economic
Sec.	A.	Economic Theory
	B.	Transportation
	C.	Commerce andExchange
	D.	Money andCredit
	E.	PublicFinance
	F.	Insurance
Division F. SocialRegulation
	Department 20. Politics
Sec.	A.	Political Theory
	B.	Diplomacy
	C.	NationalAdministration
	D.	ColonialAdministration
	E.	MunicipalAdministration
	Department 21.Jurisprudence
Sec.	A.	International Law
	B.	ConstitutionalLaw
	C.	PrivateLaw
	Department 22. SocialScience
Sec.	A.	The Family
	B.	The RuralCommunity
	C.	The UrbanCommunity
	D.	The IndustrialGroup
	E.	The DependentGroup
	F.	The CriminalGroup
Division G. SocialCulture
	Department 23. Education
Sec.	A.	Educational Theory
	B.	TheSchool
	C.	TheCollege
	D.	TheUniversity
	E.	TheLibrary
	Department 24. Religion
Sec.	A.	General Religious Education
	B.	ProfessionalReligious Education
	C.	ReligiousAgencies
	D.	ReligiousWork
	E.	ReligiousInfluence: PersonaG
	F.	ReligiousInfluence: Social

PURPOSE AND PLAN OF THE CONGRESS

The idea of the Congress grows out of the thought that the subdivision and multiplication of specialties in science has reached a stage at which investigators and scholars may derive both inspiration and profit from a general survey of the various fields of learning, planned with a view of bringing the scattered sciences into closer mutual relations. The central purpose is the unification of knowledge, an effort toward which seems appropriate on an occasion when the nations bring together an exhibit of their arts and industries. An assemblage is therefore to be convened at which leading representatives of theoretical and applied sciences shall set forth those general principles and fundamental conceptions which connect groups of sciences, review the historical development of special sciences, show their mutual relations and discuss their present problems.

The speakers to treat the various themes are selected in advance from the European and American continents. The discussions will be arranged on the following general plan:—

After the opening of the Congress on Monday afternoon, September 19, will follow, on Tuesday forenoon, addresses on main divisions of science and its applications, the general theme being the unification of each of the fields treated. These will be followed by two addresses on each of the twenty-four great departments of knowledge. The theme of one address in each case will be the Fundamental Conceptions and Methods, while the other will set forth the progress during the last century. The preceding addresses will be delivered by Americans, making the work of the first two days the contribution of American scholars.

On the third day, with the opening of the sections, the international work will begin. One hundred twenty-eight sectional meetings will be held on the four remaining days of the Congress, at each of which two papers will be read, the theme of one being suggested by the relations of the special branch treated to other branches; the other by its present problems. Three hours will be devoted to each sectional meeting, thus enabling each hearer to attend eight such meetings, if he so desires. The programme is so arranged that related subjects will be treated, as far as possible, at different times. The length of the principal addresses being limited to forty-five minutes each, there will remain at least one hour for five or six brief communications in each section. The addresses in each department will be collected and published in a special volume.

It is hoped that the living influence of this meeting will be yet more important than the formal addresses, and that the scholars whose names are announced in the following programme of speakers and chairmen will form only a nucleus for the gathering of thousands who feel in sympathy with the efforts to bring unity into the world of knowledge.

ORGANIZATION OF THE CONGRESS

PRESIDENT OF THE EXPOSITION:
HON. DAVID R. FRANCIS, A.M., LL.D.

DIRECTOR OF CONGRESSES,
HOWARD J. ROGERS, A.M., LL.D.
Universal Exposition, 1904.

ADMINISTRATIVE BOARD

NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER, PH.D., LL.D.
President of Columbia University, Chairman.

WILLIAM R. HARPER, PH.D., LL.D.
President of the University of Chicago.

R. H. JESSE, PH.D., LL.D.
President of the University of Missouri.

HENRY S. PRITCHETT, PH.D., LL.D.
President of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

HERBERT PUTNAM, LITT.D., LL.D.
Librarian of Congress.

FREDERICK J. V. SKIFF, A.M.
Director of the Field Columbian Museum.

OFFICERS OF THE CONGRESS

PRESIDENT:
SIMON NEWCOMB, PH.D., LL.D.
Retired Professor U. S. N.

VICE-PRESIDENTS:
HUGO MÜNSTERBERG, PH.D., LL.D.
Professor of Psychology in Harvard University.

ALBION W. SMALL, PH.D., LL.D.
Professor of Sociology in The University of Chicago.

HONORARY VICE-PRESIDENTS:
RIGHT HONORABLE JAMES BRYCE, M.P.
Great Britain.

M. GASTON DARBOUX,
France.

PROFESSOR WILHELM WALDEYER,
Germany.

DR. OSKAR BACKLUND,
Russia.

PROFESSOR THEODORE ESCHERICH,
Austria.

SIGNOR ATTILIO BRUNIALTI,
Italy.

PROFESSOR N. HOZUMI,
Japan.

EXECUTIVE SECRETARY:
DR. L. O. HOWARD,
Permanent Secretary American Association
for the Advancement of Science.

SPEAKERS AND CHAIRMEN

DIVISION A—NORMATIVESCIENCE
Speaker:	Professor Josiah Royce, HarvardUniversity.
(Hall 6, September 20, 10 a.m.)

DEPARTMENT1—PHILOSOPHY
(Hall 6, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:	Professor Borden P. Bowne,Boston University.
Speakers:	Professor George H. Howison,University of California.
	Professor George T.Ladd, Yale University.
SECTION A. METAPHYSICS. (Hall6, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor A. C. Armstrong,Wesleyan University.
Speakers:	Professor A. E. Taylor, McGillUniversity, Montreal.
	Professor Alexander T.Ormond, Princeton University.
Secretary:	Professor A. O. Lovejoy,Washington University,
SECTION B. PHILOSOPHY OFRELIGION. (Hall 1, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Thomas C. Hall, UnionTheological Seminary, N. Y.
Speakers:	Professor Otto Pfleiderer,University of Berlin.
	Professor ErnstTroeltsch, University of Heidelberg.
Secretary:	Dr. W. P. Montague, ColumbiaUniversity.
SECTION C. LOGIC. (Hall 6,September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor George M. Duncan, YaleUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor William A. Hammond,Cornell University.
	Professor Frederick J.E. Woodbridge, Columbia University.
Secretary:	Dr. W. H. Sheldon, ColumbiaUniversity.
SECTION D. METHODOLOGY OFSCIENCE. (Hall 6, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor James E. Creighton,Cornell University.
Speakers:	Professor Wilhelm Ostwald,University of Leipzig.
	Professor BennoErdmann, University of Bonn.
Secretary:	Dr. R. B. Perry, HarvardUniversity.
SECTION E. ETHICS. (Hall 6,September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor George H. Palmer,Harvard University.
Speakers:	Professor William R. Sorley,University of Cambridge.
	Professor PaulHensel, University of Erlangen.
Secretary:	Professor F. C. Sharp,University of Wisconsin.
SECTION F. AESTHETICS. (Hall4, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor James H. Tufts,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Dr. Henry Rutgers Marshall, NewYork City.
	Professor MaxDessoir, University of Berlin.
Secretary:	Professor Max Meyer, Universityof Missouri.
DEPARTMENT2—MATHEMATICS
(Hall 7, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:	Professor Henry S. White,Northwestern University.
Speakers:	Professor Maxime Bocher, HarvardUniversity.
	Professor James P.Pierpont, Yale University.
SECTION A. ALGEBRA AND ANALYSIS.(Hall 9, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor E. H. Moore,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Emile Picard, theSorbonne; Member of the Institute of France.
Professor HeinrichMaschke, University of Chicago.
Secretary:	Professor G. A. Bliss,University of Chicago.
SECTION B. GEOMETRY. (Hall 9,September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor M. W. Haskell,University of California.
Speakers:	M. Gaston Darboux, PerpetualSecretary of The Academy of Sciences, Paris.
	Dr. EdwardKasner, Columbia University.
Secretary:	Professor Thomas J. Holgate,Northwestern University.
SECTION C. APPLIED MATHEMATICS.(Hall 7, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Arthur G. Webster,Clark University, Worcester, Mass.
Speakers:	Professor Ludwig Boltzmann,University of Vienna.
	Professor HenriPoincaré, the Sorbonne; Member of the Institute ofFrance.
Secretary:	Professor Henry T. Eddy,University of Minnesota.

DIVISION B—HISTORICALSCIENCE
(Hall 3, September 20, 10 a.m.)
Speaker:	President Woodrow Wilson, PrincetonUniversity.

DEPARTMENT 3—POLITICAL ANDECONOMIC HISTORY
(Hall 4, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor William M. Sloane,Columbia University.
	Professor JamesH. Robinson, Columbia University.
SECTIONS A AND B. HISTORY OF GREECE,ROME, AND ASIA.(Hall 3, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Thomas D. Seymour,Yale University.
Speakers:	Professor John P. Mahaffy,University of Dublin.
	Professor EttorePais, University of Naples. Director of the National Museum ofAntiquities, Naples.
	Professor HenriCordier, Ecole Des Langues Vivantes Orientales, Paris.
Secretary:	Professor Edward Capps,University of Chicago.
SECTION C. MEDIAEVAL HISTORY.(Hall 6, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Charles H. Haskins,Harvard University.
Speakers:	Professor Karl Lamprecht,University of Leipzig.
	Professor George B.Adams, Yale University.
Secretary:	Professor Earle W. Dow,University of Michigan.
SECTION D. MODERN HISTORY OFEUROPE. (Hall 3, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Honorable James B. Perkins,Rochester, N. Y.
Speakers:	Professor J. B. Bury,University of Cambridge.
	Professor Charles W.Colby, Mcgill University, Montreal.
Secretary:	Professor Ferdinand Schwill,University of Chicago.
SECTION E. HISTORY OF AMERICA.(Hall 1, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. James Schouler,Boston.
Speakers:	Professor Frederic J. Turner,University of Wisconsin.
	Professor Edward G.Bourne, Yale University.
Secretary:	Professor Evarts B. Greene,University of Illinois.
SECTION F. HISTORY OF ECONOMICINSTITUTIONS.(Hall 2, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Frank A. Fetter,Cornell University.
Speakers:	Professor J. E. Conrad,University of Halle.
	Professor Simon N.Patten, University of Pennsylvania.
Secretary:	Dr. J. Pease Norton, YaleUniversity.
DEPARTMENT 4—HISTORY OFLAW
(Hall 5, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:	Honorable David J. Brewer,Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.
Speakers:	Honorable Emlin McClain, Judgeof the Supreme Court of Iowa, Iowa City.
	Professor NathanAbbott, Leland Stanford Jr. University.
SECTION A. HISTORY OF ROMAN LAW.(Hall 11, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Mr. W. H. Buckler, Baltimore,Md.
	Professor MunroeSmith, Columbia University.
SECTION B. HISTORY OF COMMONLAW. (Hall 11, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor John D. Lawson,University of Missouri.
Speakers:	Honorable Simeon E. Baldwin,Judge of the Supreme Court of Errors, New Haven, Conn.
	Professor John H.Wigmore, Northwestern University.
Secretary:	Professor C. H. Huberich,University of Texas.
SECTION C. COMPARATIVE LAW.(Hall 14, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Honorable Jacob M. Dickinson,Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Nobushige Hozumi,University of Tokio.
	Professor AlfredNerincx, University of Louvain.
Secretary:
DEPARTMENT 5—HISTORY OFLANGUAGE
(Hall 4, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:	Professor George Hempl,University of Michigan.
Speakers:	Professor T. R. Lounsbury, YaleUniversity.
	President Benjamin IdeWheeler, University of California.
SECTION A. COMPARATIVE LANGUAGE.(Hall 4, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Francis A. March,Lafayette College.
Speakers:	Professor Carl D. Buck,University of Chicago.
	Professor HansOertel, Yale University.
Secretary:	Professor E. W. Fay, Universityof Texas, Austin, Texas.
SECTION B. SEMITIC LANGUAGES.(Hall 4, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor G. F. Moore, HarvardUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor James A. Craig,University of Michigan.
	Professor Crawford H.Toy, Harvard University.
Secretary:
SECTION C. INDO-IRANIANLANGUAGES. (Hall 8, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Sylvain Lévi, Collègede France, Paris.
	Professor Arthur A.Macdonell, University of Oxford.
Secretary:
SECTION D. GREEK LANGUAGE.(Hall 3, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Martin L. D'ooge,University of Michigan.
Speakers:	Professor Herbert W. Smyth,Harvard University.
	Professor Milton W.Humphreys, University of Virginia.
Secretary:	Professor J. E. Harry,University of Cincinnati.
SECTION E. LATIN LANGUAGE.(Hall 9, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Maurice Hutton,University of Toronto.
Speakers:	Professor E. A. Sonnenschein,University of Birmingham.
	Professor William G.Hale, University of Chicago.
Secretary:	Professor F. W. Shipley,Washington University.
SECTION F. ENGLISH LANGUAGE.(Hall 3, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Charles M. Gayley,University of California.
Speakers:	Professor Otto Jespersen,University of Copenhagen.
	Professor George L.Kittredge, Harvard University.
Secretary:
SECTION G. ROMANCE LANGUAGES.(Hall 5, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Paul Meyer, Collège deFrance, Paris.
	Professor Henry A.Todd, Columbia University.
Secretary:	Professor E. E. Brandon, MiamiUniversity.
SECTION H. GERMANIC LANGUAGES.(Hall 3, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Gustaf E. Karsten,Cornell University.
Speakers:	Professor Eduard Sievers,University of Leipzig.
	Professor HermanCollitz, Bryn Mawr College.
Secretary:
DEPARTMENT 6—HISTORY OFLITERATURE
(Hall 6, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor James A. Harrison,University of Virginia.
	ProfessorCharles M. Gayley, University of California.
SECTION A. INDO-IRANIANLITERATURE. (Hall 8, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Maurice Bloomfield,Johns Hopkins University.
Speaker:	Professor A. V. W. Jackson,Columbia University.
Secretary:
SECTION B. CLASSICAL LITERATURE.(Hall 3, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Andrew F. West,Princeton University.
Speakers:	Professor Paul Shorey,University of Chicago.
	Professor John H.Wright, Harvard University.
Secretary:	Professor F. G. Moore, DartmouthCollege.
SECTION C. ENGLISH LITERATURE.(Hall 1, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Francis B. Gummere,Haverford College.
	Professor JohnHoops, University of Heidelberg.
Secretary:
SECTION D. ROMANCE LITERATURE.(Hall 8, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Adolphe Cohn, ColumbiaUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor Pio Rajna, Instituteof Higher Studies, Florence, Italy.
	Professor AlcéeFortier, Tulane University, New Orleans.
Secretary:	Dr. Comfort, HaverfordCollege.
SECTION E. GERMANIC LITERATURE.(Hall 3, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Kuno Francke, HarvardUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor August Sauer,University of Prague.
	Professor J.Minor, University of Vienna.
Secretary:	Professor D. K. Jessen, BrynMawr College.
SECTION F. SLAVIC LITERATURE.(Hall 8, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. Charles R. Crane,Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Leo Wiener, HarvardUniversity.
	Professor PaulBoyer, Ecole Des Langues Vivantes Orientales, Paris.
Secretary:	Mr. S. N. Harper, University ofChicago.
SECTION G. BELLES-LETTRES.(Hall 3, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Robert Herrick,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Henry Schofield,Harvard University.
	Professor BranderMatthews, Columbia University.
Secretary:
DEPARTMENT 7—HISTORY OFART
(Hall 8, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:	Professor Halsey C. Ives,Washington University, St. Louis.
Speakers:	Professor Rufus B. Richardson,New York, N. Y.
	Professor John C. vanDyke, Rutgers College.
SECTION A. CLASSICAL ART.(Hall 12, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Rufus B. Richardson,New York City.
Speakers:	Professor Adolph Furtwangler,University Of Munich.
	Professor Frank B.Tarbell, University of Chicago.
Secretary:	Dr. P. Baur, YaleUniversity.
SECTION B. MODERN ARCHITECTURE.(Hall 7, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. Charles F. McKim, New YorkCity.
Speakers:	Professor C. Enlart, Universityof Paris.
	Professor Alfred D. F.Hamlin, Columbia University.
Secretary:	Mr. Guy Lowell, Boston,Mass.
SECTION C. MODERN PAINTING.(Hall 4, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Richard Muther,University of Breslau.
	Mr. OkakuraKakuzo, Japan.
Secretary:
DEPARTMENT 8—HISTORY OFRELIGION
(Hall 5, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:	Rev. Wm. Eliot Griffis, Ithaca,N. Y.
Speakers:	Professor George F. Moore,Harvard University.
	ProfessorNathaniel Schmidt, Cornell University.
SECTION A. BRAHMANISM ANDBUDDHISM. (Hall 8, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Hermann Oldenberg,University of Kiel.
	Professor MauriceBloomfield, Johns Hopkins University.
Secretary:	Dr. Reginald C. Robbins, HarvardUniversity.
SECTION B. MOHAMMEDISM. (Hall8, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor James R. Jewett,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Ignaz Goldziher,University of Budapest.
	Professor Duncan B.Macdonald, Hartford Theological Seminary.
Secretary:
SECTION C. OLD TESTAMENT.(Hall 4, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor A. S. Carrier,McCormick Theological Seminary.
Speakers:	Professor James F. McCurdy,University College of Toronto.
	Professor KarlBudde, University of Marburg.
Secretary:	Professor James A. Kelso,Western Theological Seminary, Allegheny, Pa.
SECTION D. NEW TESTAMENT.(Hall 1, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Andrew C. Zenos,McCormick Theological Seminary.
Speakers:	Professor Benjamin W. Bacon,Yale University.
	Professor Ernest D.Burton, University of Chicago.
Secretary:	Professor Clyde W. Votaw,University of Chicago.
SECTION E. HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIANCHURCH. (Hall 2, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Eri Baker Hulbert,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Adolf Harnack,University of Berlin.
	Professor JeanRéville, Faculty of Protestant Theology, Paris.
Secretary:

DIVISION C—PHYSICALSCIENCE
(Hall 4, September 20, 10 a.m.)
Speaker:	Professor Robert S. Woodward,Columbia University.

DEPARTMENT 9—PHYSICS
(Hall 6, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:	Professor Henry Crew,Northwestern University.
Speakers:	Professor Edward L. Nichols,Cornell University.
	Professor CarlBarus, Brown University.
SECTION A. PHYSICS OF MATTER.(Hall 11, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Samuel W. Stratton,Director of The National Bureau of Standards, Washington.
Speakers:	Professor Arthur L. Kimball,Amherst College.
	Professor Francis E.Nipher, Washington University.
Secretary:	Professor R. A. Milliken,University of Chicago.
SECTION B. PHYSICS OF ETHER.(Hall 11, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Henry Crew,Northwestern University.
Speaker:	Professor Dewitt B. Brace,University of Nebraska.
Secretary:	Professor Augustus Trowbridge,University of Wisconsin.
SECTION C. PHYSICS OF THEELECTRON. (Hall 5, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor A. G. Websterr, ClarkUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor P. Langevin, Collègede France.
	Professor ErnestRutherfurd, McGill University, Montreal.
Secretary:	Professor W. J. Humphreys,University of Virginia.
DEPARTMENT10—CHEMISTRY
(Hall 5, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:	Professor James M. Crafts,Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Speakers:	Professor John U. Nef,University of Chicago.
	Professor Frank W.Clarke, Chief Chemist, U. S. Geological Survey.
SECTION A. INORGANIC CHEMISTRY.(Hall 16, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor John W. Mallet,University of Virginia.
Speakers:	Professor Henri Moissan, theSorbonne; Member of the Institute of France.
	Sir WilliamRamsay, K.C.B., Royal Institution, London.
Secretary:	Professor William L. Dudley,Vanderbilt University.
SECTION B. ORGANIC CHEMISTRY.(Hall 16, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Albert B. Prescott,University of Michigan.
Speakers:	Professor Julius Stieglitz,University of Chicago.
	Professor William A.Noyes, National Bureau of Standards.
Secretary:
SECTION C. PHYSICAL CHEMISTRY.(Hall 16, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Wilder D. Bancroft,Cornell University.
Speakers:	Professor J. H. Van t'hoff,University of Berlin.
	Professor Arthur A.Noyes, Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Secretary:	Mr. W. R. Whitney, Schenectady,N. Y.
SECTION D. PHYSIOLOGICALCHEMISTRY. (Hall 16, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Wilder O. Atwater,Wesleyan University.
Speakers:	Professor O. Cohnheim,University of Heidelberg.
	Professor Russell H.Chittenden, Yale University.
Secretary:	Dr. C. L. Alsberg, HarvardUniversity.
DEPARTMENT11—ASTRONOMY
(Hall 8, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:	Professor George C. Comstock,Director of the Observatory, Madison, Wisconsin.
Speakers:	Professor Lewis Boss, Directorof Dudley Observatory.
	Professor Edward C.Pickering, Director of Harvard Observatory.
SECTION A. ASTROMETRY. (Hall9, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Ormond Stone,University of Virginia.
Speakers:	Dr. Oskar Backlund, Director ofthe Observatory, Pulkowa, Russia.
	Professor John C.Kapteyn, University of Groningen, Holland.
Secretary:	Professor W. S. Eichelberger, U.S. Naval Observatory.
SECTION B. ASTROPHYSICS.(Hall 9, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor George E. Hale,Director of the Yerkes Observatory.
Speakers:	Professor Herbert H. Turner,F.R.S., University of Oxford.
	Professor William W.Campbell, Director of The Lick Observatory, Mt. Hamilton,California.
Secretary:	Mr. W. S. Adams, YerkesObservatory.
DEPARTMENT 12—SCIENCES OF THEEARTH
(Hall 3, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:	Dr. G. K. Gilbert, U. S.Geological Survey.
Speakers:	Professor Thomas C. Chamberlin,University of Chicago.
	Professor William M.Davis, Harvard University.
SECTION A. GEOPHYSICS. (Hall14, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Christopher W. Hall,University of Minnesota.
Speaker:	Dr. George F. Becker, Geologist,U. S. Geological Survey.
Secretary:	Professor E. M. Lehnerts,Minnesota State Normal School.
SECTION B. GEOLOGY. (Hall 14,September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor T. C. Chamberlin,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	President Charles R. Van Hise,University of Wisconsin.
Secretary:	Professor R. D. Salisbury,University of Chicago.
SECTION C. PALAEONTOLOGY.(Hall 11, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor William B. Scott,Princeton University.
Speakers:	Dr. A. S. Woodward, F.R.S.,British Museum Of Natural History, London.
	Professor Henry F.Osborn, Columbia University.
Secretary:	Dr. John M. Clarke, Albany, N.Y.
SECTION D. PETROLOGY ANDMINERALOGY. (Hall 9, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Oliver C. Farrington, FieldColumbian Museum, Chicago.
Speaker:	Professor F. Zirkel, Universityof Leipzig.
Secretary:
SECTION E. PHYSIOGRAPHY.(Hall 12, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. Henry Gannett, United StatesGeological Survey.
Speakers:	Professor Albrecht Penck,University of Vienna.
	Professor Israel C.Russell, University of Michigan.
Secretary:	Dr. John M. Clarke, Albany, N.Y.
SECTION F. GEOGRAPHY. (Hall11, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Israel C. Russell,University of Michigan.
Speakers:	Dr. Hugh R. Mill, DirectorBritish Rainfall Organization, London.
	Professor H. YuleOldham, Cambridge, England.
Secretary:	Professor R. D. Salisbury,University of Chicago.
SECTION G. OCEANOGRAPHY.(Hall 8, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Rear-Admiral John R. Bartlett, United StatesNavy.
Speakers:	Sir John Murray, K.C.B., F.R.S.,Edinburgh.
	Professor K.Mitsukuri, University of Tokio.
Secretary:
SECTION H. COSMICAL PHYSICS.(Hall 10, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Francis E. Nipher,Washington University.
Speakers:	Professor Svante Arrhenius,University of Stockholm, Stockholm.
	Dr. Abbott L.Rotch, Blue Hill Observatory.
	Dr. L. A.Bauer, Washington, D. C.
Secretary:
DEPARTMENT 13—BIOLOGY
(Hall 2, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:	Professor William G. Farlow,Harvard University.
Speakers:	Professor John M. Coulter,University of Chicago.
	Professor JacquesLoeb, University of California.
SECTION A. PHYLOGENY. (Hall2, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor T. H. Morgan, ColumbiaUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor Hugo de Vries,University of Amsterdam.
	Professor Charles O.Whitman, University of Chicago.
Secretary:
SECTION B. PLANT MORPHOLOGY.(Hall 2, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor William Trelease,Washington University, St. Louis.
Speakers:	Professor Frederick O. Bower,University of Glasgow.
	Professor Karl F.Goebel, University of Munich.
Secretary:	Professor F. E. Lloyd, ColumbiaUniversity.
SECTION C. PLANT PHYSIOLOGY.(Hall 4, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Charles R. Barnes,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Julius Wiesner,University of Vienna.
	Professor Benjamin M.Duggar, University of Missouri.
Secretary:	Professor F. C. Newcomb,University of Michigan.
SECTION D. PLANT PATHOLOGY.(Hall 7, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Chas. E. Bessey,University of Nebraska.
Speakers:	Professor Joseph C. Arthur,Purdue University.
	Merton B.Waite, U. S. Department of Agriculture.
Secretary:	Dr. C. S. Shear, U. S.Department of Agriculture.
SECTION E. ECOLOGY. (Hall 7,September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Oskar Drude, Kön.Technische Hochschule, Dresden.
	Professor BenjaminRobinson, Harvard University.
Secretary:	Professor F. E. Clements,University of Nebraska.
SECTION F. BACTERIOLOGY.(Hall 15, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Harold C. Ernst,Harvard University.
Speakers:	Professor Edwin O. Jordan,University of Chicago.
	Professor TheobaldSmith, Harvard University.
Secretary:	Dr. P. H. Hiss, Jr., ColumbiaUniversity.
SECTION G. ANIMAL MORPHOLOGY.(Hall 2, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Leland O. Howard, Departmentof Agriculture, Washington, D. C.
Speakers:	Professor Charles B. Davenport,University of Chicago.
	Professor AlfredGiard, the Sorbonne; Member of the Institute of France.
Secretary:	Professor C. H. Herrick,Dennison University.
SECTION H. EMBRYOLOGY. (Hall9, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Simon H. Gage, CornellUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor Oskar Hertwig,University of Berlin.
	Professor William K.Brooks, Johns Hopkins University.
Secretary:	Professor T. G. Lee, Universityof Minnesota.
SECTION I. COMPARATIVE ANATOMY.(Hall 2, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor James P. McMurrich,University of Michigan.
Speakers:	Professor William E. Ritter,University of California.
	Professor YvesDelage, the Sorbonne; Member of the Institute ofFrance.
Secretary:	Professor Henry B. Ward,University of Nebraska.
SECTION J. HUMAN ANATOMY.(Hall 2, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor George A. Piersol,University of Pennsylvania.
Speakers:	Professor Wilhelm Waldeyer,University of Berlin.
	Professor H. H.Donaldson, University of Chicago.
Secretary:	Dr. R. J. Terry, WashingtonUniversity.
SECTION K. PHYSIOLOGY. (Hall4, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. S. J. Meltzer, NewYork.
Speakers:	Professor Max Verworn,University of Göttingen.
	Professor William H.Howell, Johns Hopkins University.
Secretary:	Dr. Reid Hunt,Washington.
DEPARTMENT14—ANTHROPOLOGY
(Hall 8, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:	Professor Frederic W. Putnam,Harvard University.
Speakers:	Dr. W. J. McGee, PresidentAmerican Anthropological Association, Washington, D. C.
	Professor FranzBoas, Columbia University.
SECTION A. SOMATOLOGY. (Hall16, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Edward C. Spitzka, New YorkCity.
Speakers:	Professor L. Manouvrier, Schoolof Anthropology, Paris.
	Dr. George A.Dorsey, Field Columbian Museum, Chicago.
Secretary:	Dr. E. A. Spitzka, New YorkCity.
SECTION B. ARCHAEOLOGY. (Hall16, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. M. H. Saville, AmericanMuseum of Natural History, New York.
Speakers:	Señor Alfredo Chavero, Inspectorof the National Museum, Mexico.
	Professor EdouardSeler, University of Berlin.
Secretary:	Professor William C. Mills, OhioState University.
SECTION C. ETHNOLOGY. (Hall16, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Miss Alice C. Fletcher,President of the Washington Anthropological Society.
Speakers:	Professor Frederick Starr,University of Chicago.
	Professor A. C.Haddon, University of Cambridge.
Secretary:	Professor F. W. Shipley,Washington University.

DIVISION D—MENTALSCIENCE
(Hall 7, September 20, 10 a.m.)
Speaker:	President G. Stanley Hall, ClarkUniversity, Worcester, Mass.

DEPARTMENT15—PSYCHOLOGY
(Hall 7, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor James McK. Cattell,Columbia University.
	Professor J. MarkBaldwin, Johns Hopkins University.
SECTION A. GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY.(Hall 6, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Jos. Royce, HarvardUniversity.
Speakers:	Professor Harald Hoeffding,University of Copenhagen.
	Professor JamesWard, University of Cambridge, England.
Secretary:	Dr. W. H. Davis, LehighUniversity.
SECTION B. EXPERIMENTALPSYCHOLOGY. (Hall 2, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Edward A. Pace,Catholic University of America.
Speakers:	Professor Robert MacDougal, NewYork University.
	Professor Edward B.Titchener, Cornell University.
Secretary:	Dr. R. S. Woodworth, ColumbiaUniversity.
SECTION C. COMPARATIVE AND GENETICPSYCHOLOGY. (Hall 6, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Edmund C. Sanford,Clark University, Worcester, Mass.
Speakers:	Principal C. Lloyd Morgan,University College, Bristol.
	Professor Mary W.Calkins, Wellesley College.
Secretary:	Dr. R. M. Yerkes, HarvardUniversity.
SECTION D. ABNORMAL PSYCHOLOGY.(Hall 6, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Edward Cowles, Waverley,Mass.
Speakers:	Dr. Pierre Janet, Collège deFrance, Paris.
	Dr. MortonPrince, Boston.
Secretary:	Dr. Adolph Meyer, New YorkCity.
DEPARTMENT16—SOCIOLOGY
(Hall 7, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:	Professor Frank W. Blackmar,University of Kansas.
Speakers:	Professor Franklin H. Giddings,Columbia University.
	Professor George E.Vincent, University of Chicago.
SECTION A. SOCIAL STRUCTURE.(Hall 15, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Frederick W. Moore,Vanderbilt University.
Speakers:	Field Marshal GustavRatzenhofer, Vienna.
	Professor F.Toennies, University of Kiel.
	Professor Lester F.Ward, U. S. National Museum.
Secretary:	Professor Jerome Dowd,University of Wisconsin.
SECTION B. SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY.(Hall 15, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Charles A. Ellwood,University of Missouri.
Speakers:	Professor Wm. I. Thomas,University of Chicago.
	Professor Edward A.Ross, University of Nebraska.
Secretary:	Professor E. C. Hayes, MiamiUniversity.

DIVISION E—UTILITARIANSCIENCES
(Hall 1, September 20, 10 a.m.)
Speaker:	President David Starr Jordan,Leland Stanford Jr. University.

DEPARTMENT17—MEDICINE
(Hall 1, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:	Dr. William Osler, Johns HopkinsUniversity.
Speakers:	Dr. William T. Councilman,Harvard University.
	Dr. FrankBillings, University of Chicago.
SECTION A. PUBLIC HEALTH.(Hall 13, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Walter Wyman,Surgeon-General of the U. S. Marine Hospital Service.
Speakers:	Professor William T. Sedgwick,Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
	Dr. Ernst J.Lederle, Former Commissioner of Health, New York City.
Secretary:	Dr. H. M. Bracken, St. Paul,Minn.
SECTION B. PREVENTIVE MEDICINE.(Hall 13, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Joseph M. Mathews, Presidentof the State Board of Health, Louisville, Ky.
Speaker:	Professor Ronald Ross, F.R.S.,School of Tropical Medicine, University College, Liverpool.
Secretary:	Dr. J. N. Hurty, Indianapolis,Ind.
SECTION C. PATHOLOGY. (Hall13, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Simon Flexner,Director of the Rockefeller Institute.
Speakers:	Professor Ludwig Hektoen,University of Chicago.
	Professor JohannesOrth, University of Berlin.
	Professor ShibasaburoKitasato, University of Tokio.
Secretary:	Dr. W. McN. Miller, Universityof Missouri.
SECTION D. THERAPEUTICS ANDPHARMACOLOGY.(Hall 13, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Hobart A. Hare, JeffersonMedical College.
Speakers:	Professor Oscar Liebreich,University of Berlin.
	Sir LauderBrunton, F.R.S., London.
Secretary:	Dr. H. B. Favill, Chicago,Ill.
SECTION E. INTERNAL MEDICINE.(Hall 13, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Frederick C. Shattuck,Harvard University.
Speakers:	Professor T. Clifford Allbutt,F.R.S., University of Cambridge.
	Professor William S.Thayer, Johns Hopkins University.
Secretary:	Dr. R. C. Cabot, Boston,Mass.
SECTION F. NEUROLOGY. (Hall13, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Lewellyn F. Barker,University of Chicago.
Speaker:	Professor James J. Putnam,Harvard University.
Secretary:
SECTION G. PSYCHIATRY. (Hall7, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Dr. Charles L. Dana, CornellUniversity, New York.
	Dr. EdwardCowles, Boston.
Secretary:	Dr. C. G. Chadddock, St. Louis,Mo.
SECTION H. SURGERY. (Hall 13,September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Carl Beck,Post-Graduate Medical School, New York.
Speakers:	Dr. Frederic S. Dennis,F.R.C.S., Cornell Medical College, New York City.
	Professor JohannesOrth, University of Berlin.
Secretary:	Dr. J. F. Binnie, Kansas City,Mo.
SECTION I. GYNECOLOGY. (Hall13, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Howard A. Kelly, JohnsHopkins University.
Speaker:	Professor J. Clarence Webster,Rush Medical College, Chicago.
Secretary:	Dr. G. H. Noble, Atlanta,Ga.
SECTION J. OPHTHALMOLOGY.(Hall 7, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. George C. Harlan,Philadelphia, Pa.
Speakers:	Dr. Edward Jackson, Denver,Col.
	Dr. George M.Gould, Philadelphia, Pa.
Secretary:	Dr. Wm. M. Sweet, JeffersonMedical College, Philadelphia, Pa.
SECTION K. OTOLOGY ANDLARYNGOLOGY. (Hall 7, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor William C. Glasgow,Washington University, St. Louis.
Speaker:	Sir Felix Semon, C.V.O.,Physician Extraordinary to His Majesty, the King, London.
Secretary:	Dr. S. Spencer, Allenhurst, N.J.
SECTION L. PEDIATRICS. (Hall7, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Thomas M. Rotch,Harvard University.
Speakers:	Professor Theodore Escherich,University of Vienna.
	Professor AbrahamJacobi, Columbia University.
Secretary:	Dr. Samuel S. Adams, Washington,D. C.
DEPARTMENT18—TECHNOLOGY.
(Hall 3, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:	Chancellor Winfield S. Chaplin,Washington University, St. Louis.
Speaker:	Professor Henry T. Bovey,F.R.S., McGill University, Montreal.
SECTION A. CIVIL ENGINEERING.(Hall 10, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor William H. Burr,Columbia University.
Speakers:	Dr. J. A. L. Waddell, ConsultingEngineer, Kansas City.
	Mr. Lewis M.Haupt, Consulting Engineer, Philadelphia.
Secretary:
SECTION B. MECHANICALENGINEERING. (Hall 10, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor James E. Denton,Stevens Institute of Technology.
Speaker:	Professor Albert W. Smith,Leland Stanford Jr. University.
Secretary:	Mr. George Dinkel, Jr., JerseyCity.
SECTION C. ELECTRICALENGINEERING. (Hall 10, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Arthur E. Kennelly,Harvard University.
	Professor Michael I.Pupin, Columbia University.
Secretary:	Mr. Carl Hering, Philadelphia,Pa.
SECTION D. MINING ENGINEERING.(Hall 11, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. John Hays Hammond, New YorkCity.
Speakers:	Professor Robert H. Richards,Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
	Professor Samuel B.Christy, University of California.
Secretary:	Dr. Joseph Struthers, New YorkCity.
SECTION E. TECHNICAL CHEMISTRY.(Hall 16, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. H. W. Wiley, Department ofAgriculture.
Speakers:	Professor Charles E. Munroe,George Washington University.
	Professor William H.Walker, Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Secretary:	Dr. Marcus Benjamin, U. S.National Museum.
SECTION F. AGRICULTURE. (Hall10, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor H. J. Wheeler,Kingston, R. I.
Speakers:	Professor Charles W. Dabney,Jr., University of Cincinnati.
	Professor Liberty H.Bailey, Cornell University.
Secretary:	Professor William Hill,University of Chicago.
DEPARTMENT19—ECONOMICS
(Hall 1, September 20, 11.15 a.m.)
Chairman:	Professor Emory R. Johnson,University of Pennsylvania.
Speakers:	Professor Frank A. Fetter,Cornell University.
	Professor Adolph C.Miller, University of California.
SECTION A. ECONOMIC THEORY.(Hall 15, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor John B. Clark,Columbia University.
	Professor Jacob H.Hollander, Johns Hopkins University.
Secretary:	Professor Jesse E. Pope,University of Missouri.
SECTION B. TRANSPORTATION.(Hall 10, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor J. Lawrence Laughlin,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Eugene VonPhilippovich, University of Vienna.
	Professor William Z.Ripley, Harvard University.
Secretary:	Mr. George G. Tunell,Chicago.
SECTION C. COMMERCE ANDEXCHANGE. (Hall 10, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor E. D. Jones,University of Michigan.
	Professor CarlPlehn, University of California.
Secretary:
SECTION D. MONEY AND CREDIT.(Hall 5, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. B. E. Walker, Canadian Bankof Commerce, Toronto.
Speakers:	Mr. Horace White, New YorkCity.
	Professor J. LawrenceLaughlin, University of Chicago.
Secretary:	Professor John Cummings,University of Chicago.
SECTION E. PUBLIC FINANCE.(Hall 1, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Henry C. Adams,University of Michigan.
	Professor Edwin R. A.Seligman, Columbia University.
Secretary:
SECTION F. INSURANCE. (Hall10, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. Emory McClintock, Actuary,Mutual Life Insurance
	Company, New York.
Speakers:	Mr. Frederick L. Hoffman,Statistician, Prudential Insurance Company, Newark.
	Professor Balthasar H.Meyer, University of Wisconsin.
Secretary:

DIVISION F—SOCIALREGULATION
(Hall 2, September 20, 10 a.m.)
Speaker:	Professor Abbott L. Lowell,Harvard University.

DEPARTMENT20—POLITICS
(Hall 2, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor William A. Dunning,Columbia University.
	Chancellor E. BenjaminAndrews, University of Nebraska.
SECTIONS A AND C. POLITICAL THEORYAND NATIONAL ADMINISTRATION. (Hall 15, September 22, 3 p.m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor W. W. Willoughby,Johns Hopkins University.
	Professor George G.Wilson, Brown University.
	Right Hon. JamesBryce, London, England.
Secretary:	Dr. Charles E. Merriam,University of Chicago.
SECTION B. DIPLOMACY. (Hall1, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Honorable John W. Foster,Ex-Secretary of State.
	Honorable David JayneHill, Minister of the United States to Switzerland.
Secretary:
SECTION D. COLONIALADMINISTRATION. (Hall 4, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Harry P. Judson,University of Chicago.
Speakers:	Professor Bernard J. Moses,University of California.
	Professor Paul S.Reinsch, University of Wisconsin.
Secretary:
SECTION E. MUNICIPALADMINISTRATION. (Hall 15, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Mr. Albert Shaw, Editor AmericanMonthly Review of Reviews.
	Miss JaneAddams, Hull House, Chicago.
Secretary:	Professor John A. Fairlie,University of Michigan.
DEPARTMENT21—JURISPRUDENCE
(Hall 3, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:	Professor George W. Kirchwey,Columbia University.
Speakers:	President Charles W. Needham,Columbian University, Washington.
	Professor Joseph H.Beale, Harvard University.
SECTION A. INTERNATIONAL LAW.(Hall 14, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor James B. Scott,Columbia University.
Speakers:	Professor H. Lafontaine, Memberof the Senate, Brussels, Belgium.
	Professor CharlesNoble Gregory, University of Iowa.
	Count AlbertApponyi, Hungary.
Secretary:	Dr. W. C. Dennis, LelandStanford Jr. University.
SECTION B. CONSTITUTIONAL LAW.(Hall 14, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Henry St. GeorgeTucker, George Washington University, Washington.
Speakers:	Signor Attilio Brunialti,Councilor of State, Rome.
	Professor John W.Burgess, Columbia University.
	Professor FerdinandLarnaude, University of Paris.
Secretary:
SECTION C. PRIVATE LAW. (Hall14, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor James B. Ames, Dean,Harvard Law School.
Speakers:	Professor Ernst Freund,University of Chicago.
	Honorable Edward B.Whitney, New York.
Secretary:	Dean William Draper Lewis,University of Pennsylvania.
DEPARTMENT 22—SOCIALSCIENCE
(Hall 1, September 20, 2 p.m.)
Chairman:	Mr. Walter L. Sheldon, EthicalSociety, St. Louis.
Speakers:	Professor Felix Adler, ColumbiaUniversity.
	Professor GrahamTaylor, Chicago Theological Seminary.
SECTION A. THE FAMILY. (Hall5, September 21, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Samuel G. Smith,University of Minnesota.
Speakers:	Dr. Samuel W. Dike, Auburndale,Mass.
	Professor GeorgeElliott Howard, University of Nebraska.
Secretary:
SECTION B. THE RURAL COMMUNITY.(Hall 5, September 21, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Hon. Aaron Jones, Master ofNational Grange, South Bend, Ind.
Speakers:	Professor Max Weber, Universityof Heidelberg.
	President Kenyon L.Butterfield, Rhode Island State Agricultural College.
Secretary:	Professor William Hill,University of Chicago.
SECTION C. THE URBAN COMMUNITY.(Hall 5, September 22, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor T. Jastrow, Universityof Berlin.
	Professor LouisWuarin, University of Geneva.
Secretary:
SECTION D. THE INDUSTRIAL GROUP.(Hall 14, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor Werner Sombart,University of Breslau.
	Professor Richard T.Ely, University of Wisconsin.
Secretary:	Professor Thomas S. Adams,Madison, Wis.
SECTION E. THE DEPENDENT GROUP.(Hall 5, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. Robert W. Deforest, New YorkCity.
Speakers:	Professor Charles R. Henderson,University of Chicago.
	Dr. EmilMünsterberg, President City Charities, Berlin.
Secretary:
SECTION F. THE CRIMINAL GROUP.(Hall 5, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speaker:	Mr. Frederick H. Wines,Secretary State Charities Aid Association, Upper Montclair, N.J.
Secretary:

DIVISION G—SOCIALCULTURE
(Hall 5, September 20, 10 a.m.)
Speaker:	Honorable William T. Harris,United States Commissioner of Education.

DEPARTMENT23—EDUCATION
(Hall 2, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	President Arthur T. Hadley, YaleUniversity.
	The Right Rev. John L.Spalding, Bishop of Peoria.
SECTION A. EDUCATIONAL THEORY.(Hall 12, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Charles DeGarmo,Cornell University.
Speakers:	Professor Wilhelm Rein,University of Jena.
	Professor Elmer E.Brown, University of California.
Secretary:	Dr. G. M. Whittle, CornellUniversity.
SECTION B. THE SCHOOL. (Hall12, September 23, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. F. Louis Soldan,Superintendent Public Schools, St. Louis.
Speakers:	Dr. Michael E. Sadler,University of Manchester.
	Dr. William H.Maxwell, Superintendent Public Schools, New York City.
Secretary:	Professor A. S. Langsdorf,Washington University.
SECTION C. THE COLLEGE. (Hall12, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	President W. S. Chaplin,Washington University.
Speakers:	President William DeWitt Hyde,Bowdoin College.
	President M. CareyThomas, Bryn Mawr College.
Secretary:	Professor H. H. Horne, DartmouthCollege.
SECTION D. THE UNIVERSITY.(Hall 12, September 24, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	Professor C. Chabot, Universityof Lyons.
	Professor EdwardDelavan Perry, Columbia University.
Secretary:
SECTION E. THE LIBRARY. (Hall12, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Mr. Frederick M. Crunden,Librarian St. Louis Public Library.
Speakers:	Mr. William A. E. Axon,Manchester, England.
	Professor GuidoBiagi, Royal Librarian, Florence.
Secretary:	Mr. C. P. Pettus, WashingtonUniversity.
DEPARTMENT24—RELIGION
(Hall 4, September 20, 4.15 p.m.)
Chairman:	Bishop John H. Vincent,Chautauqua, N. Y.
Speakers:	President Henry C. King, OberlinCollege.
	Professor Francis G.Peabody, Harvard University.
SECTION A. GENERAL RELIGIOUSEDUCATION.(Hall 11, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Professor Edwin D. Starbuck,Earlham College, Richmond, Ind.
Speakers:	Professor George A. Coe,Northwestern University.
	Dr. Walter L.Hervey, Examiner Board of Education, New York City.
Secretary:
SECTION B. PROFESSIONAL RELIGIOUSEDUCATION.(Hall 1, September 22, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:
Speakers:	President Charles Cuthbert Hall,Union Theological Seminary.
	Professor Frank K.Sanders, Yale University.
Secretary:	Professor Herbert L. Willett,Disciples Divinity House, Chicago, Ill.
SECTION C. RELIGIOUS AGENCIES.(Hall 15, September 23, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	President Edgar C. Mullins,Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, Ky.
Speakers:	Rev. Washington Gladden,Columbus, Ohio.
	Rev. James M.Buckley, Editor The Christian Advocate, New York.
Secretary:	Dr. Ira Landrith, GeneralSecretary Religious Education Association, Chicago,Ill.
SECTION D. RELIGIOUS WORK.(Hall 1, September 24, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Rt. Rev. Thomas F. Gailor,Memphis.
Speakers:	Rev. Floyd W. Tomkins, Church ofthe Holy Trinity, Philadelphia.
	Rev. Henry C.Mabie, Corresponding Secretary American Baptist MissionaryUnion.
Secretary:
SECTION E. RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE:PERSONAL. (Festival Hall,September 25, 10 a. m.)
Chairman:	Chancellor J. H. Kirkland,Vanderbilt University.
Speakers:	Rev. Hugh Black, Edinburgh,Scotland.
	Professor John E.McFadyen, Knox College.
	Rev. SamuelEliot, Boston, Mass.
	Rev. Edward B.Pollard, Georgetown, Ky.
Secretary:	Professor Clyde W. Votaw,University of Chicago.
SECTION F. RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE:SOCIAL. (Festival Hall,September 25, 3 p. m.)
Chairman:	Dr. J. H. Garrison, St.Louis.
Speakers:	President Joseph Swain,Swarthmore College.
	Dr. Emil G.Hirsch, Chicago, Ill.
	Professor Edward C.Moore, Harvard University.
	Dr. JosiahStrong, League for Social Service, New York.
Secretary:	Professor Clyde W. Votaw,University of Chicago.

CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER OF PROCEEDINGS

monday, september 19.

3 P. M. Opening exercises of the Congress. Festival Hall (Hall 17).

The Congress will be called to order by the Director of Congresses, who will introduce the President of the Exposition.

Welcoming addresses will be delivered by the President of the Exposition and other officials.

A reply to these addresses of welcome will be made on behalf of the Congress by the Honorary Vice-President for Great Britain.

The Chairman of the Administrative Board will give an account of the origin and purpose of the Congress.

The President of the Congress will then be introduced and will deliver an introductory address, after which adjournment will follow.

tuesday, september 20.

10.00 A. M. Meetings of the seven Divisions. The Divisional addresses will be given as follows:—

Hall 1, Utilitarian Sciences.

Hall 2, Social Regulation.

Hall 3, Historical Science.

Hall 4, Physical Science.

Hall 5, Social Culture.

Hall 6, Normative Science.

Hall 7, Mental Science.

11.15 to 6.00 p. m. Meetings of the Departments, with addresses:—

Meeting at 11.15 a. m.

departments.

Hall 1, Economics.

Hall 2, Biology.

Hall 3, Sciences of the Earth.

Hall 4, Political History.

Hall 5, History of Law.

Hall 6, Philosophy.

Hall 7, Mathematics.

Hall 8, History of Art.

Adjournment at 1 p. m.

Meeting at 2 p. m.

departments.

Hall 1, Social Science.

Hall 2, Politics.

Hall 3, Technology.

Hall 4, History of Language.

Hall 5, History of Religion.

Hall 6, Physics.

Hall 7, Psychology.

Hall 8, Anthropology.

Adjournment at 3.45 p. m.

Meeting at 4.15 p. m.

departments.

Hall 1, Medicine.

Hall 2, Education.

Hall 3, Jurisprudence.

Hall 4, Religion.

Hall 5, Chemistry.

Hall 6, History of Literature.

Hall 7, Sociology.

Hall 8, Astronomy.

Adjournment at 6. p. m.

On the four days following, the Sectional meetings will be held. The duration of each session will be three hours. The morning sessions will extend from 10 a. m. until 1 p. m.; the afternoon sessions from 3 p. m. to 6 p. m.

The meetings of some of the religious sections will be held on Sunday, September 25, in Festival Hall. Further announcements concerning these Sunday Meetings will be made in Registration Hall, in the daily press of St. Louis, and in the World's Fair Official Programme.

wednesday, september 21.

Meeting at 10 a. m.

Hall 1, Public Finance.

Hall 2, Animal Morphology.

Hall 3, History of Greece, Rome, and Asia.

Hall 4, Comparative Language.

Hall 5, The Family.

Hall 6, Metaphysics.

Hall 7, Otology and Laryngology.

Hall 8, Slavic Literature.

Hall 9, Astrometry.

Hall 10, Civil Engineering.

Hall 11, History of Common Law.

Hall 12, Physiography.

Hall 13, Public Health.

Hall 14, Geophysics.

Hall 15, Social Structure.

Hall 16, Inorganic Chemistry.

Adjournment at 1 p. m.

Meeting at 3 p. m.

Hall 1, Philosophy of Religion.

Hall 2, Phylogeny.

Hall 3, Classical Literature.

Hall 4, Semitic Languages.

Hall 5, The Rural Community.

Hall 6, Medieval History.

Hall 7, Pediatrics.

Hall 8, Oceanography.

Hall 9, Astrophysics.

Hall 10, Insurance.

Hall 11, History of Roman Law.

Hall 13, Preventive Medicine.

Hall 14, Geology.

Hall 16, Organic Chemistry.

Adjournment at 6 p. m.

Immediately following the Section of Geophysics in the morning, and the Section of Geology in the afternoon, in Room 14, the Eighth International Geographic Congress will hold sessions in the same room, Hall 14, Mines and Metallurgy Building.

thursday, september 22.

Meeting at 10 a. m.

Hall 1, English Literature.

Hall 2, Plant Morphology.

Hall 3, Modern History of Europe.

Hall 4, Old Testament.

Hall 5, The Urban Community.

Hall 6, Logic.

Hall 7, Psychiatry.

Hall 8, Indo-Iranian Languages.

Hall 9, Algebra and Analysis.

Hall 10, Cosmical Physics.

Hall 11, Palæontology.

Hall 12, Classical Art.

Hall 13, Pathology.

Hall 14, International Law.

Hall 15, Economic Theory.

Hall 16, Physical Chemistry.

Adjournment at 1 p. m.

Meeting at 3 p. m.

Hall 1, Professional Religious Education.

Hall 2, Human Anatomy.

Hall 3, Greek Language.

Hall 4, Plant Physiology.

Hall 5, Physics of the Electron.

Hall 6, Methodology of Science.

Hall 7, Modern Architecture.

Hall 8, Romance Literature.

Hall 9, Petrology and Mineralogy.

Hall 10, Electrical Engineering.

Hall 11, Geography.

Hall 12, The Library.

Hall 13, Neurology.

Hall 14, The Industrial Group.

Hall 15, Political Theory and National Administration.

Hall 16, Physiological Chemistry.

Adjournment at 6 p. m.

friday, september 23.

Meeting at 10 a. m.

Hall 1, New Testament.

Hall 2, Experimental Psychology.

Hall 3, Germanic Literature.

Hall 4, Physiology.

Hall 5, The Dependent Group.

Hall 6, Ethics.

Hall 7, Plant Pathology.

Hall 8, Brahmanism and Buddhism.

Hall 9, Latin Language.

Hall 10, Transportation.

Hall 11, Physics of Matter.

Hall 12, The School.

Hall 13, Surgery.

Hall 15, Social Psychology.

Hall 16, Technical Chemistry.

Adjournment at 1 p. m.

Meeting at 3 p. m.

Hall 1, Diplomacy.

Hall 2, History of Economic Institutions.

Hall 3, English Language.

Hall 4, Æsthetics.

Hall 5, The Criminal Group.

Hall 6, General Psychology.

Hall 7, Ecology.

Hall 8, Mohammedism.

Hall 9, Embryology.

Hall 10, Mechanical Engineering.

Hall 11, Physics of Ether.

Hall 12, The College.

Hall 13, Internal Medicine.

Hall 14, Private Law.

Hall 15, Religious Agencies.

Hall 16, Somatology.

Adjournment at 6 p. p.

saturday. september 24.

Meeting at 10 a. m.

Hall 1, History of America.

Hall 2, History of the Christian Church.

Hall 3, Belles-Lettres.

Hall 4, Colonial Administration.

Hall 5, Romance Languages.

Hall 6, Comparative and Genetic Psychology.

Hall 7, Ophthalmology.

Hall 8, History of Asia.

Hall 9, Geometry.

Hall 10, Commerce and Exchange.

Hall 11, Mining Engineering.

Hall 12, The University.

Hall 13, Gynecology.

Hall 14, Constitutional Law.

Hall 15, Bacteriology.

Hall 16, Archæology.

Adjournment at 1 p. m.

Meeting at 3 p. m.

Hall 1, Religious Work.

Hall 2, Comparative Anatomy.

Hall 3, Germanic Languages.

Hall 4, Modern Painting.

Hall 5, Money and Credit.

Hall 6, Abnormal Psychology.

Hall 7, Applied Mathematics.

Hall 8, Indo-Iranian Literature.

Hall 10, Agriculture.

Hall 11, . . . . . . . . .

Hall 12, Educational Theory.

Hall 13, Therapeutics and Pharmacology.

Hall 14, Comparative Law.

Hall 15, Municipal Administration.

Hall 16, Ethnology.

Adjournment at 6 p. m.

sunday, september 25.

Festival Hall.

Meeting at 10 a. m.

Religious Influence: Personal.

Meeting at 3 p. m.

Religious Influence: Social.

PROGRAMME OF SOCIAL EVENTS

* * * * *

Monday Evening, September 19.—Grand Fête night in honor of the Congress of Arts and Science. Special illuminations about the Grand Basin. Lagoon fête.

Banquet by the St. Louis Chemical Society, at the Southern Hotel, to the members of the Chemical Sections.

Tuesday Evening, September 20.—General Reception by Board of Lady Managers to the officers and speakers of the Congress and officials of the Exposition.

Wednesday Afternoon, September 21.—Garden fête to be given to the members of the Congress of Arts and Science, at the French Pavilion, by the Commissioner-General from France.

Wednesday Evening, September 21.—General reception by the German Imperial Commissioner-General to the members of the Congress of Arts and Science, at the German State House.

Thursday Evening.—Shaw banquet at the Buckingham Club to the foreign delegates.

Friday Evening, September 23.—General banquet to the speakers and officials of the Congress of Arts and Science in the banquethall of the Tyrolean Alps. 8 P. M.

Saturday Evening, September 24.—Banquet at St. Louis Club by Round Table of St. Louis, to the foreign members of the Congress.

Banquet given by Imperial Commissioner-General from Japan to the Japanese delegation to the Congress and Exposition officials.

Dinner given by Commissioner-General from Great Britain to the English members of the Congress.

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF MEMBERS
WHO MADE 10-MINUTE ADDRESSES

The following list differs from the original programme, in that it contains the names only of those who actually read addresses. It was planned that each Section should meet for three hours. When authors of ten-minute papers were not present, and where not enough of these shorter papers were offered to fill out the time, the Chairmen invited discussions from the floor until the time was filled.

Professor R. G. Aitken	Lick Observatory	Astronomy
James W. Alexander, Esq.	New York City	Insurance
Frederick Almy	Buffalo, N. Y.	Social Science
Professor S. G. Ashmore	Union College	Latin Language
Professor L. A. Bauer	Carnegie Institute	Cosmical Physics
Dr. Marcus Benjamin	National Museum	Technical Chemistry
Professor H. T. Blickfeldt	Leland Stanford Univ.	Geometry
Professor Ernest W. Brown	Haverford College	Lunar Theory
Dr. Henry Dickson Bruns	New Orleans	Municipal Administration
Dr. F. K. Cameron	Dep't of Agriculture	Physical Chemistry
Rear-Admiral C. M. Chester, U. S. N.	United States Naval Observatory	Astronomy
H. H. Clayton, Esq.	Blue Hill Observatory	Cosmical Physics
Professor Charles A. Coffin	New York City	Modern Painting
Dr. George Coronilas	Athens, Greece	Tuberculosis
Professor J. E. Denton	Stevens Institute	Mechanical Engineering
Professor L. W. Dowling	Univ. of Wisconsin	Geometry
Professor H. C. Elmer	Cornell Univ.	Latin Language
Professor A. Emch	Univ. of Colorado	Geometry
Professor H. R. Fanclough	Leland Stanford Univ.	Classical Literature
Professor W. S. Ferguson	Univ. of California	History of Greece, Rome, and Asia
Dr. Carlos Finley	Havana	Pathology
Dr. C. E. Fisk	Centralia, Ill.	History of America
Homer Folks, Esq.	New York City	Social Science
Professor F. C. French	Univ. of Nebraska	Philosophy of Religion
H. L. Gannt, Esq.	Schenectady, N. Y.	Mechanical Engineering
Dr. F. P. Gorham	Brown Univ.	Bacteriology
Professor Evarts B. Greene	Univ. of Illinois	History of America
Stansbury Hagar, Esq.	Brooklyn, N.Y.	Ethnology
J. D. Hague, Esq.	New York City	Mining Engineering
Professor G. B. Halstead	Kenyon College	Geometry
Professor A. D. F. Hamlin	Columbia Univ.	Æsthetics
Professor H. Hancock	Univ. of Cincinnati	Geometry
Professor J. A. Harris	St. Louis, Mo.	Plant Morphology
Professor M. W. Haskell	Univ. of California	Algebra and Analysis
Professor J. T. Hatfield	Northwestern Univ.	Germanic Language
Professor E. C. Hayes	Miami Univ.	Social Psychology
Professor W. E. Heidel	Iowa College	Greek Language
Dr. C. L. Herrick	Granville, Ohio	Neurology
Dr. C. Judson Herrick	Granville, Ohio	Animal Morphology
Professor W. H. Hobbs	Univ. of Wisconsin	Petrology and Mineralogy
Professor A. R. Hohlfeld	Univ. of Wisconsin	Germanic Literature
Professor H. H. Horne	Dartmouth College	Educational Theory
Dr. E. V. Huntington	Harvard Univ.	Algebra and Analysis
Dr. Reid Hunt	U. S. Marine Hospital	Alcohol, etc.
Dr. J. N. Hurty	Indianapolis, Ind.	Public Health
Professor J. J. Hutchinson	Cornell Univ.	Algebra and Analysis
Rev. Thomas E. Judge	Catholic Review of Reviews	General Religious Education
Professor L. Kahlenburg	Univ. of Wisconsin	Physical Chemistry
Professor Albert G. Keller	Yale University	Municipal Administration
Professor George Lefevre	Univ. of Missouri	Comparative Anatomy
President Henry C. King	Oberlin College	Education, The College
Dr. Ira Landrith	Belmont College	Religious Agencies
Professor M. D. Learned	Univ. of Pennsylvania	Germanic Literature
Professor A. O. Leuschner	Univ. of California	Astronomy
Dr. E. P. Lyon	St. Louis Univ.	Physiology
Dr. Duncan B. Macdonald	Hartford Theological Seminary	Semitic Languages
Professor A. MacFarlane	Chatham, Ontario	Applied Mathematics
Professor James McMahon	Cornell Univ.	Applied Mathematics
Mr. Edward Mallinckrodt	St. Louis, Mo.	Chemistry
Professor H. P. Manning	Brown Univ.	Geometry
Professor G. A. Miller	Leland Stanford Univ.	Algebra and Analysis.
Dr. W. C. Mills	Ohio State Univ.	Archæology
Professor W. S. Milner	Univ. of Toronto	Classical Literature
Professor F. G. Moore	Dartmouth College	Classical Literature
Dr. W. P. Montague	Columbia Univ.	Metaphysics
Clarence B. Moore, Esq.	Philadelphia	Archæology.
Professor F. R. Moulton	Univ. of Chicago	Astronomy.
Dr. J. G. Needham	Lake Forest Univ.	Animal Morphology
Professor Alex. T. Ormond	Princeton Univ.	Philosophy of Religion
Professor Frederic L. Paxton	Univ. of Colorado	History of America
Dr. Carl Pfister	St. Mark's Hospital, New York City	Surgery
Professor M. B. Porter	Univ. of Texas	Algebra and Analysis
Dr. A. J. Reynolds	Chicago	Public Health
Professor S. P. Sadtler	Philadelphia College of Pharmacy	Technical Chemistry
Dr. John A. Sampson	Albany, N. Y.	Gynæcology
Oswald Schreiner, Esq.	U. S. Dep't of Agriculture	Chemistry
Rev. Frank Sewall	Washington, D. C.	Social Science, The Family
Professor H. C. Sheldon	Boston Univ.	History of the Christian Church
Professor Frank C. Sharp	Univ. of Wisconsin	Ethics
Professor J. B. Shaw	Milliken Univ.	Algebra and Analysis
Professor W. B. Smith	Tulane Univ.	New Testament
Professor Marshall S. Snow	Washington Univ.	History of America
Professor Henry Snyder	Univ. of Minnesota	Social Science
Professor Edwain D. Starbuck	Earlham College	General Religious
Professor George B. Stewart	Auburn Theological Seminary	Professional Religious Education
John M. Stahl	Quincy, Ill.	The Rural Community
Professor J. Stieglitz	Univ. of Chicago	Chemistry
Professor Robert Stein	U. S. Geological Survey	Comparative Language
Mr. Teitaro Suzuki	La Salle, Ill.	Brahmanism and Buddhism
Col. T. W. Symonds, U. S. A.	Washington, D. C.	Civil Engineering
Professor Teissier	Lyons, France	Pathology
Judge W. H. Thomas	Montgomery, Ala.	Private Law
Professor O. H. Tittmann	U. S. C. and G. Survey	Astronomy
Professor Alfred M. Tozzer	Peabody Museum	Anthropology
Dr. Benjamin F. Trueblood	Univ. of Missouri	Medieval History
Professor Clyde W. Votaw	Univ. of Chicago	New Testament
Professor John B. Watson	Univ. of Chicago	Psychology
Professor H. L. Willett	Disciples Divinity House, Chicago	Professional Religious Education
President Mary E. Woolley	Mt. Holyoke College	Education, The College
H. Zwaarddemaker	Utrecht	Otology and Laryngology

THE SCIENTIFIC PLAN OF THE CONGRESS

BY PROF. HUGO MÜNSTERBERG

THE PURPOSE OF THE CONGRESS

1. The Centralization of the Congress

The history of the Congress has been told. It remains to set forth the principles which controlled the work of the Congress week, and thus scientifically to introduce the scholarly undertaking, the results of which are to speak for themselves in the eight volumes of this publication. Yet in a certain way this scientific introduction has once more to use the language of history. It does not deal with the external development of the Congress, and the story which it has to tell is thus not one of dates and names and events. But the principles which shaped the whole undertaking have themselves a claim to historical treatment; they do not lie before us simply as the subject for a logical disputation or as a plea for a future work. That was the situation of three years ago. At that time various ideas and opposing principles entered into the arena of discussion; but now, since the work is completed, the question can be only of what principles, right or wrong, have really determined the programme. We have thus to interpret that state of mind out of which the purposes and the scientific arrangement of the Congress resulted; and no after-thought of to-day would be a desirable addition. Whatever possible improvements of the plan may suggest themselves in the retrospect can be given only a closing word. It was certainly easy to learn from experience, but first the experience had to be passed through. We have here to interpret the view from that standpoint from which the experience of the Congress was still a matter of the future, and of an uncertain future indeed, full of doubts and fears, and yet full of hopes and possibilities.

The St. Louis World's Fair promised, through the vast extent of its grounds, through the beautiful plans of the buildings, through the eagerness of the United States, through the participation of all countries on earth, and through the gigantic outlines of the internal plans, to become the most monumental expression of the energies with which the twentieth century entered on its course. Commerce and industry, art and social work, politics and education, war and peace, country and city. Orient and Occident, were all to be focussed for a few summer months in the ivory city of the Mississippi Valley. It seemed most natural that science and productive scholarship should also find its characteristic place among the factors of our modern civilization. Of course the scientist had his word to say on almost every square foot of the Exposition. Whether the building was devoted to electricity or to chemistry, to anthropology or to metallurgy, to civic administration or to medicine, to transportation or to industrial arts, it was everywhere the work of the scientist which was to win the triumph; and the Palace of Education, the first in any universal exposition, was to combine under its roof not only the school work of all countries, but the visible record of the world's universities and technical schools as well. And yet it seemed not enough to gather the products and records of science and to make science serve with its tools and inventions. Modern art, too, was to reign over every hall and to beautify every palace, and yet demanded its own unfolding in the gallery of paintings and sculptures. In the same way it was not enough for science to penetrate a hundred exhibitions and turn the wheels in every hall, but it must also seek to concentrate all its energies in one spot and show the cross-section of human knowledge in our time, and, above all, its own methods.

An exhibition of scholarship cannot be arranged for the eyes. The great work which grows day by day in quiet libraries and laboratories, and on a thousand university platforms, can express itself only through words. Yet heaped up printed volumes would be dead to a World's Fair spectator; how to make such words living was the problem. Above all, scholarship does not really exhibit its methods, if it does not show itself in production. It is no longer scholarship which speaks of a truth-seeking that has been performed instead of going on with the search for further truth. If the world's science was to be exhibited, a form had to be sought in which the scholarly work on the spot would serve the ideals of knowledge, would add to the storehouse of truth, and would thus work in the service of human progress at the same moment in which it contributed to the completeness of the exhibition.

The effort was not without precedent. Scholarly production had been connected with earlier expositions, and the large gatherings of scholars at the Paris Exposition were still in vivid memory. A large number of scientific congresses of specialists had been held there, and many hundred scholarly papers had been read. Yet the results hardly suggested the repetition of such an experiment. Every one felt too strongly that the outcome of such disconnected congresses of specialists is hardly comparable with the glorious showing which the arts and industries have made and were to make again. In every other department of the World's Fair the most careful preparation secured an harmonious effect. The scholarly meetings alone failed even to aim at harmony and unity. Not only did the congresses themselves stand apart without any inner relation, grouped together by calendar dates or by their alphabetical order from Anthropology to Zoölogy; but in every congress, again, the papers read and the manuscripts presented were disconnected pieces without any programme or correlation. Worse than that, they could not even be expected in their isolatedness to add anything which would not have been worked out and communicated to the world just as well without any congress. The speaker at such a meeting is asked to contribute anything he has at hand, and he accepts the invitation because he has by chance a completed paper or a research ready for publication. In the best case it would have appeared in the next number of the specialistic magazine, in not infrequent cases it has appeared already in the last number. Such a congress is then only an accident and does not itself serve the progress of knowledge.

Even that would be acceptable if at least the best scholars would come out with their latest investigations, or, still more delightful, if they would enter into an important discussion. But experience has too often shown that the conditions are most favorable for the opposite outcome. The leading scholars stay away partly to give beginners the chance to be heard, partly not to be grouped with those who habitually have the floor at such gatherings. These are either the men whose day has gone by or those whose day has not yet come; and both groups tyrannize alike an unwilling audience. Yet it may be said that in scientific meetings of specialists the reading of papers is non-essential and no harm is done even if they do not contribute anything to the status of scholarship; their great value lies in the personal contact of fellow workers and in the discussions and informal exchange of opinions. All that is true, and completely justifies the yearly meetings of scholarly associations. But these advantages are much diminished whenever such gatherings take on an international character, and thus introduce the confusion of tongues. And hardly any one can doubt that the turmoil of a world's fair is about the worst possible background for such exchange of thought, which demands repose and quietude. Yet even with the certainty of all these disadvantages the city of Paris, with its large body of scholars, with its venerable scholarly traditions, and with its incomparable attractions, could overcome every resistance, and its convenient location made it natural that in vacation time, in an exposition summer, the scholars should gather there, not on account of, but in spite of, the hundred congresses. With this the city of St. Louis could make no claim to rivalry. Its recent growth, its minimum of scholarly tradition, its great distance from the old centres of knowledge even in the New World, the apathy of the East and the climatic fears of Europe, all together made it clear that a mere repetition of unrelated congresses would be not only useless, but a disastrous failure. These very fears, however, themselves suggested the remedy.

If the scholarly work of our time was to be represented at St. Louis, something had to be attempted which should be not simply an imitation of the branch-congresses which every scientific specialty in every country is calling every year. Scholarship was to be asked to show itself really in process, and to produce for the World's Fair meeting something which without it would remain undone. To invite the scholars of the world for their leisurely enjoyment and reposeful discussion of work done elsewhere is one thing; to call them together for work which they would not do otherwise, and which ought to be done, is a very different thing. The first had in St. Louis all odds against it; it seemed worth while to try the second. And it seemed not only worth while in the interest of scholarship, it seemed, above all, the only way to give to the scholarship of our time a chance for the complete demonstration of its productive energies.

The plan of unrelated congresses, with chance combinations of papers prepared at random, was therefore definitively replaced by the plan of only one representative gathering, bound together by one underlying thought, given thus the unity of one scholarly aim, whose fulfillment is demanded by the scientific needs of our time, and is hardly to be reached by other methods. Every arbitrary and individual choice was then to be eliminated and every effort was to be controlled by the one central purpose; the work thus to be organized and prepared with the same carefulness of adjustment and elaboration which was doubtless to be applied in the admirable exhibitions of the United States Government or in the art exhibition. The open question was, of course, what topic could fulfill these various demands most completely; wherein lay the greatest scholarly need of our time; what task could be least realized by the casual efforts of scholarship at random; where was the unity of a world organization most needed?

One thought was very naturally suggested by the external circumstances. St. Louis had asked the nations of the world to a celebration of the Louisiana Purchase. Historical thoughts thus gave meaning and importance to the whole undertaking. The pride of one century's development had stimulated the gigantic work from its inception. An immense territory had been transformed from a half wilderness into a land with a rich civilization, and with a central city in which eight thousand factories are at work. No thought lay nearer than to ask how far this century was of similar importance for the changes in the world of thought. How have the sciences developed themselves since the days of the Louisiana Purchase? That is a topic which with complete uniformity might be asked from every special science, and which might thus offer a certain unity of aim to scholars of all scientific denominations. There was indeed no doubt that such an historical question would have to be raised if we were to live up to the commemorative idea of the whole Fair. And yet it seemed still more certain that the retrospective problem did not justify itself as a central topic for a World's Congress. There were sciences for which the story of the last hundred years was merely the last chapter of a history of three thousand years and other sciences whose life history did not begin until one or two decades ago. It would thus be a very external uniformity; the question would have a very different meaning for the various branches of knowledge, and the treatment would be of very unequal interest and importance. More than that, it would not abolish the unrelated character of the endeavors; while the same topic might be given everywhere, yet every science would remain isolated; there would be no internal unity, and thus no inner reason for bringing together the best workers of all spheres. And finally the mere retrospective attitude brings with it the depressing mood of perfunctory activity. Certainly to look back on the advance of a century can be most suggestive for a better understanding of the way which lies before us; and we felt indeed that the occasion for such a backward glance ought not to be missed. Yet there would be something lifeless if the whole meeting were devoted to the consideration of work that had been completed; a kind of necrological sentiment would pervade the whole ceremony, while our chief aim was to serve the progress of knowledge and thus to stimulate living interests.

This language of life spoke indeed in the programme of another plan which seemed also to be suggested by the character of the Exposition. The St. Louis Fair desired not merely to look backward and to revive the historical interest in the Louisiana purchase, but its first aim seemed to be to bring into sharp relief the factors which serve to-day the practical welfare and the achievements of human society. If all the scholars of all sciences were to convene under one flag, would it not thus seem most harmonious with the occasion, if, as the one controlling topic, the question were proposed, "What does your science contribute to the practical progress of mankind?" No one can deny that such a formulation would fit in well with the lingering thoughts of every World's Fair visitor. Whoever wanders through the aisles of exhibition palaces and sees amassed the marvelous achievements of industry and commerce, and the thousand practical arts of modern society, may indeed turn most naturally to a gathering of scholars with the question, "What have you to offer of similar import?" All your thinking and speaking and writing, are they merely words on words, or do you also turn the wheels of this gigantic civilization?

Such a question would give a noble opening indeed to almost every science. Who would say that the opportunity is confined to the man of technical science? Does not the biologist also prepare the achievements of modern medicine, does not the mathematician play his most important rôle in our mastery over stubborn nature, do we not need language for our social intercourse, and law and religion for our practical social improvement? Yes, is there any science which has not directly or indirectly something to contribute to the practical development of the modern man and his civilization? All this is true, and yet the perspective of this truth, too, appears at once utterly distorted if we take the standpoint of science itself. The one end of knowledge is to reach the truth. The belief in the absolute value of truth gives to it meaning and significance. This value remains the controlling influence even where the problem to be solved is itself a practical one, and the spirit of science remains thus essentially theoretical even in the so-called applied sciences. But incomparably more intense in that respect is the spirit of all theoretical disciplines. Philosophy and mathematics, history and philology, chemistry and biology, astronomy and geology, may be and ought to be helpful to practical civilization everywhere; and every step forward which they take will be an advance for man's practical life too. And yet their real meaning never lies in their technical by-product. It is not the scholar who peers in the direction of practical use who is most loyal to the deepest demand of scholarship, and every relation to practical achievement is more or less accidental or even artificial for the real life interests of productive scholarship.

But if the contrast between his real intention and his social technical successes may not appear striking to the physicist or chemist, it would appear at least embarrassing to the scholars in many other departments and directly bewildering to not a few. Perhaps two thirds of the sciences to which the best thinkers of our time are faithfully devoted would then be grouped together and relegated to a distant corner, their only practical technical function would be to contribute material to the education of the cultured man. For what else do we study Sanscrit or medieval history or epistemology? And finally even the uniform topic of practical use would not have brought the different sciences nearer to each other; the Congress would still have remained a budget of disconnected records of scholarship. If the practical side of the Exposition was to suggest anything, it should then not be more than an appeal not to overlook the importance of the applied sciences which too often play the rôle of a mere appendix to the system of knowledge. The logical one-sidedness which considers practical needs as below the dignity of pure science was indeed to be excluded, but to choose practical service as the one controlling topic would be far more anti-scientific.

2. The Unity of Knowledge

There was another side of the Exposition plan which suggested a stronger topic. The World's Fair was not only an historical memorial work, and was not only a show of the practical tools of technical civilization; its deepest aim was after all the effort to bring the energies of our time into inner relation. The peoples of the whole globe, separated by oceans and mountains, by language and custom, by politics and prejudice, were here to come in contact and to be brought into correlation by better mutual understanding of the best features of their respective cultures. The various industries and arts, the most antagonistic efforts of commerce and production, separated by the rivalry of the market and by the diversity of economic interests were here to be brought together in harmony, were to be correlated for the eye of the spectator. It was a near-lying thought to choose correlation as the controlling thought of a scientific World's Congress too. That was the topic which was finally agreed upon: the inner relation of the sciences of our day.

The fitness and the external advantages of such a scheme are evident. First of all, the danger of disconnectedness now disappears completely. If the sciences are to examine what binds them together, their usual isolation must be given up for the time being and a concerted effort must control the day. The bringing together of scholars of all scientific specialties is then no longer a doubtful accidental feature, but becomes a condition of the whole undertaking. More than that, such a topic, with all that it involves, makes it a matter of course that the call goes out to the really leading scholars of the time. To aim at a correlation of sciences means to seek for the fundamental principles in each territory of knowledge and to look with far-seeing eye beyond the limits of its field; but just this excludes from the outset those who like to be the self-appointed speakers in routine gatherings. It excludes from the first the narrow specialist who does not care for anything but for his latest research, and ought to exclude not less the vague spirits who generalize about facts of which they have no concrete substantial knowledge, as their suggestions towards correlation would lack inner productiveness and outer authority. Such a plan has room only for those men who stand high enough to see the whole field and who have yet the full authority of the specialistic investigator; they must combine the concentration on specialized productive work with the inspiration that comes from looking over vast regions. With such a topic the usual question does not come up whether one or another strong man would feel attracted to take part in the gathering, but it would be justified and necessary to confine the active participation from the outset to those who are leaders, and thus to guarantee from the beginning a representation of science equal in dignity to the best efforts of the exhibiting countries in all other departments. In this way such a plan had the advantage of justifying through its topic the administrative desire to bring all sciences to the same spot, and at the same time of excluding all participants but the best scholars: with isolated gatherings or with second-rate men, this subject would have been simply impossible.

Yet all these halfway external advantages count little compared with the significance and importance of the topic for the inner life of scientific thought of our time. We all felt it was the one topic which the beginning of the twentieth century demanded and which could not be dealt with otherwise than by the combined labors of all nations and of all sciences. The World's Fair was the one great opportunity to make a first effort in this direction; we had no right to miss this opportunity. Thus it was decided to have a congress with the definite purpose of working towards the unity of human knowledge, and with the one mission, in this time of scattered specializing work, of bringing to the consciousness of the world the toomuch neglected idea of the unity of truth. To quote from our first tentative programme: "Let the rush of the world's work stop for one moment for us to consider what are the underlying principles, what are their relations to one another and to the whole, what are their values and purposes; in short, let us for once give to the world's sciences a holiday. The workaday functions are much better fulfilled in separation, when each scholar works in his own laboratory or in his library; but this holiday task of bringing out the underlying unity, this synthetic work, this demands really the coöperation of all, this demands that once at least all sciences come together in one place at one time."

Yet if our work stands for the unity of knowledge, aims to consider the fundamental conceptions which bind together all the specialistic results, and seeks to inquire into the methods which are common to various fields, all this is after all merely a symptom of the whole spirit of our times. A reaction against the narrowness of mere fact-diggers has set in. A mere heaping up of disconnected, unshaped facts begins to disappoint the world; it is felt too vividly that a mere dictionary of phenomena, of events and laws, makes our knowledge larger but not deeper, makes our life more complex but not more valuable, makes our science more difficult but not more harmonious. Our time longs for a new synthesis and looks towards science no longer merely with a desire for technical prescriptions and new inventions in the interest of comfort and exchange. It waits for knowledge to fulfill its higher mission, it waits for science to satisfy our higher needs for a view of the world which shall give unity to our scattered experience. The indications of this change are visible to every one who observes the gradual turning to philosophical discussion in the most different fields of scientific life.

When after the first third of the nineteenth century the great philosophic movement which found its climax in Hegelianism came to disaster in consequence of its absurd neglect of hard solid facts, the era of naturalism began its triumph with contempt for all philosophy and for all deeper unity. Idealism and philosophy were stigmatized as the enemies of true science and natural science had its great day. The rapid progress of physics and chemistry fascinated the world and produced modern technique; the sciences of life, physiology, biology, medicine, followed; and the scientific method was carried over from body to mind, and gave us at the end of the nineteenth century modern psychology and sociology. The lifeless and the living, the physical and the mental, the individual and the social, all had been conquered by analytical methods. But just when the climax was reached and all had been analyzed and explained, the time was ripe for disillusion, and the lack of deeper unity began to be felt with alarm in every quarter. For seventy years there had been nowhere so much philosophizing going on as suddenly sprung up among the scientists of the last decade. The physicists and the mathematicians, the chemists and the biologists, the geologists and the astronomers, and, on the other side, the historians and the economists, the psychologists and the sociologists, the jurists and the theologians—all suddenly found themselves again in the midst of discussions on fundamental principles and methods, on general categories and conditions of knowledge, in short, in the midst of the despised philosophy. And with those discussions has come the demand for correlation. Everywhere have arisen leaders who have brought unconnected sciences together and emphasized the unity of large divisions. The time seems to have come again when the wave of naturalism and realism is ebbing, and a new idealistic philosophical tide is swelling, just as they have always alternated in the civilization of two thousand years.

No one dreams, of course, that the great synthetic apperception, for which our modern time seems ripe, will come through the delivery of some hundred addresses, or the discussions of some hundred audiences. An ultimate unity demands the gigantic thought of a single genius, and the work of the many can, after all, be merely the preparation for the final work of the one. And yet history shows that the one will never come if the many have not done their share. What is needed is to fill the sciences of our time with the growing consciousness of belonging together, with the longing for fundamental principles, with the conviction that the desire for correlation is not the fancy of dreamers, but the immediate need of the leaders of thought. And in this preparatory work the St. Louis Congress of Arts and Science seemed indeed called for an important part when it was committed to this topic of correlation.

To call the scholars of the world together for concerted action towards the correlation of knowledge meant, of course, first of all, to work out a detailed programme, and to select the best authorities for every special part of the whole scheme. Nothing could be left to chance methods and to casual contributions. The preparation needed the same administrative strictness which would be demanded for an encyclopedia, and the same scholarly thoroughness which would be demanded for the most scientific research. A plan was to be devised in which every possible striving for truth would find its place, and in which every section would have its definite position in the system. And such a ground-plan given, topics were to be assigned to every department and sub-department, the treatment of which would bring out the fundamental principles and the inner relations in such a way that the papers would finally form a close-woven intellectual fabric. There would be plenty of room for a retrospective glance at the historical development of the sciences and plenty of room for emphasis on their practical achievements; but the central place would always belong to the effort towards unity and internal harmonization.

We thus divided human knowledge into large parts, and the parts into divisions, and the divisions into departments, and the departments into sections. As the topic of the general divisions—we proposed seven of them—it was decided to discuss the Unity of the whole field. As topic for the departments—we had twenty-four of them—the addresses were to discuss the fundamental Conceptions and Methods and the Progress during the last century; and in the sections, finally—our plan provided for one hundred and twenty-eight of them—the topics were in every one the Relation of the special branch to other branches, and those most important Present Problems which are essential for the deeper principles of the special field. In this way the ground-plan itself suggested the unity of the practically separated sciences; and, moreover, our plan provided from the first that this logical relation should express itself externally in the time order of the work. We were to begin with the meetings of the large divisions, the meetings of the departments were to follow, and the meetings of the sections and their ramifications would follow the departmental gatherings.

3. The Objections to the Plan

It was evident that even the most modest success of that gigantic undertaking depended upon the right choice of speakers, upon the value of the ground-plan, and upon many external conditions; thus no one was in doubt as to the difficulty in realizing such a scheme. Yet there were from the scholarly side itself objections to the principles involved, objections which might hold even if those other conditions were successfully met. The most immediate reason for reluctance lies in the specializing tendencies of our time. Those who devote all their working energy as loyal sons of our analyzing period of science to the minute detail of research come easily into the habit of a nervous fear with regard to any wider general outlook. The man of research sees too often how ignorance hides itself behind generalities. He knows too well how much easier it is to formulate vague generalities than to contribute a new fact to human knowledge, and how often untrained youngsters succeed with popular text-books which are rightly forgotten the next day. Methodical science must thus almost encourage this aversion to any deviation from the path of painstaking specialistic labor. Then, of course, it seems almost a scientific duty to declare war against an undertaking which explicitly asks everywhere for the wide perspectives and the last principles, and does not aim at adding at this moment to the mere treasury of information.

But such a view is utterly one-sided, and to fight against such one-sidedness and to overcome the specializing narrowness of the scattered sciences was the one central idea of the plan. If there existed no scholars who despise the philosophizing connection, there would have hardly been any need for this whole undertaking; but to yield to such philosophy-phobia means to declare the analytic movement of science permanent, and to postpone a synthetic movement indefinitely. Our time has just to emphasize, and the leaders of thought daily emphasize it more, that a mere heaping up of information can be merely a preparation for knowledge, and that the final aim is a Weltanschauung, a unified view of the whole of reality. All that our Congress had to secure was thus merely that the generalizing discussion of principles should not be left to men who generalized because they lacked the substantial knowledge which is necessary to specialize. The thinkers we needed were those who through specialistic work were themselves led to a point where the discussion of general principles becomes unavoidable. Our plan was by no means antagonistic to the patient labors of analysis; the aim was merely to overcome its one-sidedness and to stimulate the synthesis as a necessary supplement.

But the objections against a generalizing plan were not confined to the mistaken fear that we sought to antagonize the productive work of the specialist. They not seldom took the form of a general aversion to the logical side of the ground-plan. It was often said that such a scheme has after all interest only for the logician, for whom science as such is an object of study, and who must thus indeed classify the sciences and determine their logical relation. The real scientist, it was said, does not care for such methodological operations, and should be suspicious from the first of such philosophical high-handedness. The scientist cannot forget how often in the history of civilization science was the loser when it trusted its problems to the metaphysical thinker who substituted his lofty speculations for the hard work of the investigator. The true scholar will thus not only object to generalizing "commonplaces" as against solid information, but he will object as well to logical demarcation lines and systematization as against the practical scientific work which does not want to be hampered by such philosophical subtleties. Yet all these fears and suspicions were still more mistaken.

Nothing was further from our intentions than a substitution of metaphysics for concrete science. It was not by chance that we took such pains to find the best specialists for every section. No one was invited to enter into logical discussions and to consider the relations of science merely from a dialectic point of view. The topic was everywhere the whole living manifoldness of actual relations, and the logician had nothing else to do than to prepare the programme. The outlines of the programme demanded, of course, a certain logical scheme. If hundreds of sciences are to take part, they have to be grouped somehow, if a merely alphabetical order is not adopted; and even if we were to proceed alphabetically, we should have to decide beforehand what part of knowledge is to be recognized as a special science. But the logical order of the ground-plan refers, of course, merely to the simple relation of coördination, subordination, and superordination, and the logician is satisfied with such a classification. But the endless variety of internal relations is no longer to be dealt with from the point of view of mere logic. We may work out the ground-plan in such a way that we understand that logically zoölogy is coördinated to botany and subordinated to mechanics and superordinated to ichthyology; but this minimum of determination gives, of course, not even a hint of that world of relations which exists from the standpoint of the biologist between the science of zoölogy and the science of botany, or between the biological and the mechanical studies. To discuss these relations of real scientific life is the work of the biologist and not at all of the logician.

The foregoing answers also at once an objection which might seem more justified at the first glance. It has been said that we were undertaking the work of bringing about a synthesis of scientific endeavors, and that we yet had that synthesis already completed in the programme on which the work was to be based. The scholars to be invited would be bound by the programme, and would therefore have no other possibility than to say with more words what the programme had settled beforehand. The whole effort would then seem determined from the start by the arbitrariness of the proposed ground-plan. Now it cannot be denied indeed that a certain factor of arbitrariness has to enter into a programme. We have already referred to the fact that some one must decide beforehand what fraction of science is to be acknowledged as a self-dependent discipline. If a biologist were to work out the scheme, he might decide that the whole of philosophy was just one science; while the philosopher might claim a large number of sections for logic and ethics and philosophy of religion, and so on. And the philosopher, on the other hand, might treat the whole of medicine as one part in itself, while the physician might hold that even otology has to be separated from rhinology. A certain subjectivity of standpoint is unavoidable, and we know very well that instead of the one hundred and twenty-eight sections of our programme we might have been satisfied with half that number or might have indulged in double that number. And yet there was no possible plan which would have allowed us to invite the speakers without defining beforehand the sectional field which each was to represent. A certain courage of opinion was then necessary, and sometimes also a certain adjustment to external conditions.

Quite similar was the question of classification. Just as we had to take the responsibility for the staking-out of every section, we had also to decide in favor of a certain grouping, if we desired to organize the Congress and not simply to bring out haphazard results. The principles which are sufficient for a mere directory would never allow the shaping of a programme which can be the basis for synthetic work. Even a university catalogue begins with a certain classification, and yet no one fancies that such catalogue grouping inhibits the freedom of the university lecturer. It is easy to say, as has been said, that the essential trait of the scientific life of to-day is its live-and-let-live character. Certainly it is. In the regular work in our libraries and laboratories the year round, everything depends upon this democratic freedom in which every one goes his own way, hardly asking what his neighbor is doing. It is that which has made the specialistic sciences of our day as strong as they are. But it has brought about at the same time this extreme tendency to unrelated specialization with its discouraging lack of unity; this heaping up of information without an outer harmonious view of the world; and if we were really at least once to satisfy the desire for unity, then we had not the right to yield fully to this live-and-let-live tendency. Therefore some principle of grouping had to be accepted, and whatever principle had been chosen, it would certainly have been open to the criticism that it was a product of arbitrary decision, inasmuch as other principles might have been possible.

A classification which in itself expresses all the practical relations in which sciences stand to each other is, of course, absolutely impossible. A programme which should try to arrange the place of a special discipline in such a way that it would become the neighbor of all those other sciences with which it has internal relation is unthinkable. On the other hand, only if we had tried to construct a scheme of such exaggerated ambitions should we have been really guilty of anticipating a part of that which the specialistic scholars were to tell us. The Congress had to leave it to the invited participants to discuss the totality of relations which practically exist between their fields and others, and the organizers confined themselves to that minimum of classification which just indicates the pure logical relations, a minimum which every editor of encyclopedic work would be asked to initiate without awakening suspicions of interference with the ideas of his contributors.

The only justified demand which could be met was that a system of division and classification should be proposed which should give fair play to every existing scientific tendency. The minimum of classification was to be combined with the maximum of freedom, and to secure that a careful consideration of principles was indeed necessary. To bring logical order into the sciences which stand out clearly with traditional rights is not difficult; but the chances are too great that certain tendencies of thought might fail to find recognition or might be suppressed by scientific prejudice. Any serious omission would indeed have necessarily inhibited the freedom of expression. To secure thus the greatest inner fullness of the programme, seemed indeed the most important task in the elaboration of the ground-plan. The fears that we might offer empty generalization instead of scholarly facts, or that we might simply heap up encyclopedic information instead of gaining wide perspectives, or that we might interfere with the living connections of sciences by the logical demarcation lines, or that we might disturb the scholar in his freedom by determining beforehand his place in the classification,—all these fears and objections, which were repeatedly raised when the plan was first proposed, seemed indeed unimportant compared with the fear that the programme might be unable to include all scientific tendencies of the time.

That would have been, indeed, the one fundamental mistake, as the whole Congress work was planned in the service of the great synthetic movement which pervades the intellectual life of to-day. The undertaking would be useless and even hindering if it were not just the newer and deeper tendencies that came to most complete expression in it. Everything depended, therefore, upon the fullest possible representation of scientific endeavors in the plan. But no one can become aware of this manifoldness and of the logical relations who does not go back to the ultimate principles of the human search for truth. We have, therefore, to enter now into a full discussion of the principles which have controlled the classification and subdivision of the whole work. The discussion is necessarily in its essence a philosophical one, as it was earlier made plain that philosophy must lay out the plan, while in the realization of the plan through concrete work the scientist alone, and not the logician, has to speak. Yet here again it may be said that while our discussion of principles in its essence is logical, in another respect it is a merely historical account. The question is not what principles of classification are to be acknowledged as valuable now that the work of the Congress lies behind us, but what principles were accepted and really led to the organization of the work in that form in which it presents itself in the records of the following volumes.

THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES

1. The Development of Classification

The problem of dividing and subdividing the whole of human knowledge and of thus bringing order into the manifoldness of scientific efforts has fascinated the leading thinkers of all ages. It may often be difficult to say how far the new principles of classification themselves open the way for new scientific progress and how far the great forward movements of thought in the special sciences have in turn influenced the principles of classification. In any case every productive age has demanded the expression of its deepest energy in a new ordering of human science. The history of these efforts leads from Plato and Aristotle to Bacon and Locke, to Bentham and Ampère, to Kant and Hegel, to Comte and Spencer, to Wundt and Windelband. And yet we can hardly speak of a real historical continuity. In a certain way every period took up the problem anew, and the new aspects resulted not only from the development of the sciences themselves which were to be classified, but still more from the differences of logical interest. Sometimes the classification referred to the material, sometimes to the method of treatment, sometimes to the mental energies involved, and sometimes to the ends to be reached. The reference to the mental faculties was certainly the earliest method of bringing order into human knowledge, for the distinction of the Platonic philosophy between dialectics, physics, and ethics pointed to the threefold character of the mind, to reason, perception, and desire; and it was on the threshold of the modern time, again, when Bacon divided the intellectual globe into three large parts according to three fundamental psychical faculties: memory, imagination, and reason. The memory gives us history; the imagination, poetry; the reason, philosophy, or the sciences. History was further divided into natural and civil history; natural history into normal, abnormal, and artificial phenomena; civil history into political, literary, and ecclesiastical history. The field of reason was subdivided into man, nature, and God; the domain of man gives, first, civil philosophy, parted off into intercourse, business, and government, and secondly, the philosophy of humanity, divided into that of body and of soul, wherein medicine and athletics belong to the body, logic and ethics to the soul. Nature, on the other hand, was divided into speculative and applied science,—the speculative containing both physics and metaphysics; the applied, mechanics and magic. All this was full of artificial constructions, and yet still more marked by deep insight into the needs of Bacon's time, and not every modification of later classifiers was logically a step forward.

Yet modern efforts had to seek quite different methods, and the energies which have been most effective for the ordering of knowledge in the last decades spring unquestionably from the system of Comte and his successors. He did not aim at a system of ramifications; his problem was to show how the fundamental sciences depend on each other. A series was to be constructed in which each member should presuppose the foregoing. The result was a simplicity which is certainly tempting, but this simplicity was reached only by an artificial emphasis which corresponded completely to the one-sidedness of naturalistic thought. It was a philosophy of positivism, the background for the gigantic work of natural science and technique in the last two thirds of the nineteenth century. Comte's fundamental thought is that the science of Morals, in which we study human nature for the government of human life, is dependent on sociology. Sociology, however, depends on biology; this on chemistry; this on physics; this on astronomy; and this finally on mathematics. In this way, all mental and moral sciences, history and philology, jurisprudence and theology, economics and politics, are considered as sociological phenomena, as dealing with functions of the human being. But as man is a living organism, and thus certainly falls under biology, all the branches of knowledge from history to ethics, from jurisprudence to æsthetics, can be nothing but subdivisions of biology. The living organism, on the other hand, is merely one type of the physical bodies on earth, and biology is thus itself merely a department of physics. But as the earthly bodies are merely a part of the cosmic totality, physics is thus a part of astronomy; and as the whole universe is controlled by mathematical laws, mathematics must be superordinated to all sciences.

But there followed a time which overcame this thinly disguised example of materialism. It was a time when the categories of the physiologist lost slightly in credit and the categories of the psychologist won repute. This newer movement held that it is artificial to consider ethical and logical life, historic and legal action, literary and religious emotions, merely as physiological functions of the living organism. The mental life, however necessarily connected with brain processes, has a positive reality of its own. The psychical facts represent a world of phenomena which in its nature is absolutely different from that of material phenomena, and, while it is true that every ethical action and every logical thought can, from the standpoint of the biologist, be considered as a property of matter, it is not less true that the sciences of mental phenomena, considered impartially, form a sphere of knowledge closed in itself, and must thus be coördinated, not subordinated, to the knowledge of the physical world. We should say thus: all knowledge falls into two classes, the physical sciences and the mental sciences. In the circle of physical sciences we have the general sciences, like physics and chemistry, the particular sciences of special objects, like astronomy, geology, mineralogy, biology, and the formal sciences, like mathematics. In the circle of mental sciences we have correspondingly, as a general science, psychology, and as the particular sciences all those special mental and moral sciences which deal with man's inner life, like history or jurisprudence, logic or ethics, and all the rest. Such a classification, which had its philosophical defenders about twenty years ago, penetrated the popular thought as fully as the positivism of the foregoing generation, and was certainly superior to its materialistic forerunner.

Of course it was not the first time in the history of civilization that materialism was replaced by dualism, that biologism was replaced by psychologism; and it was also not the first time that the development of civilization led again beyond this point: that is, led beyond the psychologizing period. There is no doubt that our time presses on, with all its powerful internal energies, away from this Weltanschauung of yesterday. The materialism was anti-philosophic, the psychological dualism was unphilosophic. To-day the philosophical movement has set in. The one-sidedness of the nineteenth century creed is felt in the deeper thought all over the world: popular movements and scholarly efforts alike show the signs of a coming idealism, which has something better and deeper to say than merely that our life is a series of causal phenomena. Our time longs for a new interpretation of reality; from the depths of every science wherein for decades philosophizing was despised, the best scholars turn again to a discussion of fundamental conceptions and general principles. Historical thinking begins again to take the leadership which for half a century belonged to naturalistic thinking; specialistic research demands increasingly from day to day the readjustment toward higher unities, and the technical progress which charmed the world becomes more and more simply a factor in an ideal progress. The appearance of this unifying congress itself is merely one of a thousand symptoms of this change appearing in our public life, and if the scientific philosophy is producing to-day book upon book to prove that the world of phenomena must be supplemented by the world of values, that description must yield to interpretation, and that explanation must be harmonized with appreciation: it is but echoing in technical terms the one great emotion of our time.

This certainly does not mean that any step of the gigantic materialistic, technical, and psychological development will be reversed, or that progress in any one of these directions ought to cease. On the contrary, no time was ever more ready to put its immense energies into the service of naturalistic work; but it does mean that our time recognizes the one-sidedness of these movements, recognizes that they belong only to one aspect of reality, and that another aspect is possible; yes, that the other aspect is that of our immediate life, with its purposes and its ideals, its historical relations and its logical aims. The claim of materialism, that all psychical facts are merely functions of the organism, was no argument against psychology, because, though the biological view was possible, yet the other aspect is certainly a necessary supplement. In the same way it is no argument against the newer view that all purposes and ideals, all historical actions and logical thoughts, can be considered as psychological phenomena. Of course we can consider them as such, and we must go on doing so in the service of the psychological and sociological sciences; but we ought not to imagine that we have expressed and understood the real character of our historical or moral, our logical or religious life when we have described and explained it as a series of phenomena. Its immediate reality expresses itself above all in the fact that it has a meaning, that it is a purpose which we want to understand, not by considering its causes and effects, but by interpreting its aims and appreciating its ideals.

We should say, therefore, to-day that it is most interesting and important for the scientist to consider human life with all its strivings and creations from a biological, psychological, sociological point of view; that is, to consider it as a system of causal phenomena; and many problems worthy of the highest energies have still to be solved in these sciences. But that which the jurist or the theologian, the student of art or of history, of literature or of politics, of education or of morality, is dealing with, refers to the other aspect in which inner life is not a phenomenon but a system of purposes, not to be explained but to be interpreted, to be approached not by causal but by teleological methods. In this case the historical sciences are no longer sub-sections of psychological or of sociological sciences; the conception of science is no longer identical with the conception of the science of phenomena. There exist sciences which do not deal with the description or explanation of phenomena at all, but with the internal relation and connection, the interpretation and appreciation of purpose. In this way modern thought demands that sciences of purpose be coördinated with sciences of phenomena. Only if all these tendencies of our time are fully acknowledged can the outer framework of our classification offer a fair field to every scientific thought, while a positivistic system would cripple the most promising tendencies of the twentieth century.

2. The Four Theoretical Divisions

We have first to determine the underlying structure of the classification, that is, we have to seek the chief Divisions, of which our plan shows seven; four theoretical and three practical ones. It will be a secondary task to subdivide them later into the 24 Departments and 128 Sections. We desire to divide the whole of knowledge in a fundamental way, and we must therefore start with the question of principle:—what is knowledge? This question belongs to epistemology, and thus falls, indeed, into the domain of philosophy. The positivist is easily inclined to substitute for the philosophical problem the empirical question: how did that which we call knowledge grow and develop itself in our individual mind, or in the mind of the nations? The question becomes, then, of course, one which must be answered by psychology, by sociology, and perhaps by biology. Such genetic inquiries are certainly very important, and the problem of how the processes of judging and conceiving and thinking are produced in the individual or social consciousness, and how they are to be explained through physical and psychical causes, deserves fullest attention. But its solution cannot even help us as regards the fundamental problem, what we mean by knowledge, and what the ultimate value of knowledge may be, and why we seek it. This deeper logical inquiry must be answered somehow before those genetic studies of the psychological and the sociological positivists can claim any truth at all, and thus any value, for their outcome. To explain our present knowledge genetically from its foregoing causes means merely to connect the present experience, which we know, with a past experience, which we remember, or with earlier phenomena which we construct on the basis of theories and hypotheses; but in any case with facts which we value as parts of our knowledge and which thus presuppose the acknowledgment of the value of knowledge. We cannot determine by linking one part of knowledge with another part of knowledge whether we have a right to speak of knowledge at all and to rely on it.

We can thus not start from the childhood of man, or from the beginning of humanity, or from any other object of knowledge, but we must begin with the state which logically precedes all knowledge; that is, with our immediate experience of real life. Here, in the naïve experience in which we do not know ourselves as objects which we perceive, but where we feel ourselves in our subjective attitudes as agents of will, as personalities, here we find the original reality not yet shaped and remoulded by scientific conceptions and by the demands of knowledge. And from this basis of primary, naïve reality we must ask ourselves what we mean by seeking knowledge, and how this demand of ours is different from the other activities in which we work out the meaning and the ideals of our life.

One thing is certain, we cannot go back to the old dogmatic standpoint, whether rationalistic or sensualistic. In both cases dogmatism took for granted that there is a real world of things which exist in themselves independent of our subjective attitudes, and that our knowledge has to give us a mirror picture of that self-dependent world. Sensualism averred that we get this knowledge through our perceptions; rationalism, that we get it by reasoning. The one asserted that experience gives us the data which mere abstract reasoning can never supply; the other asserted that our knowledge speaks of necessity which no mere perception can find out. Our modern time has gone through the school of philosophical criticism, and the dogmatic ideas have lost for us their meaning. We know that the world which we think as independent cannot be independent of the forms of our thinking, and that no science has reference to any other world than the world which is determined by the categories of our apperception. There cannot be anything more real than the immediate pure experience, and if we seek the truth of knowledge, we do not set out to discover something which is hidden behind our experience, but we set out simply to make something out of our experience which satisfies certain demands. Our immediate experience does not contain an objective thing and a subjective picture of it, but they are completely one and the same piece of experience. We have the object of our immediate knowledge not in the double form of an outer object independent of ourselves and an idea in us, but we have it as our object there in the practical world before science for its special purposes has broken up that bit of reality into the physical material thing and the psychical content of consciousness. And if this doubleness does not hold for the immediate reality of pure experience, it cannot enter through that reshaping and reconstructing and connecting and interpreting of pure experience which we call our knowledge. All that science gives to us is just such an endlessly enlarged experience, of which every particle remains objective and independent, inasmuch as it is not in us as psychical individuals, while yet completely dependent upon the forms of our subjective experience. The ideal of truth is thus not to gain by reason or by observation ideas in ourselves which correspond as well as possible to absolute things, but to reconstruct the given experience in the service of certain purposes. Everything which completely fulfills the purposes of this intentional reconstruction is true.

What are these purposes? One thing is clear from the first: There cannot be a purpose where there is not a will. If we come from pure experience to knowledge by a purposive transformation, we must acknowledge the reality of will in ourselves, or rather, we must find ourselves as will in the midst of pure experience before we reach any knowledge. And so it is indeed. We can abstract from all those reconstructions which the sciences suggest to us and go back to the most immediate naïve experience; but we can never reach an experience which does not contain the doubleness of subject and object, of will and world. That doubleness has nothing whatever to do with the difference of physical and psychical; both the physical thing and the psychical idea are objects. The antithesis is not that between two kinds of objects, since we have seen that in the immediate experience the objects are not at all split up into the two groups of material and mental things; it is rather the antithesis between the object in its undifferentiated state on the one side and the subject in its will-attitude on the other side. Yes, even if we speak of the subject which stands as a unity behind the will-attitudes, we are already reconstructing the real experience in the interest of the purposes of knowledge. In the immediate experience, we have the will-attitudes themselves, and not a subject which wills them.

If we ask ourselves finally what is then the ultimate difference between those two elements of our pure experience, between the object and the will-attitude, we stand before the ultimate data: we call that element which exists merely through a reference to its opposite, the object, and we call that element of our experience which is complete in itself, the attitude of the will. If we experienced liking or disliking, affirming or denying, approving or disapproving in the same way in which we experience the red and the green, the sweet and the sour, the rock and the tree and the moon, we should know objects only. But we do experience them in quite a different way. The rock and the tree do not point to anything else, but the approval has no reality if it does not point to its opposition in disapproval, and the denial has no meaning if it is not meant in relation to the affirmative. This doubleness of our primary experience, this having of objects and of antagonistic attitudes must be acknowledged wherever we speak of experience at all. We know no object without attitude, and no attitude without object. The two are one state; object and attitude form a unity which we resolve by the different way in which we experience these two features of the one state: we find the object and we live through the attitude. It is a different kind of awareness, the having of the object and the taking of the attitude. In real life our will is never an object which we simply perceive. The psychologist may treat the will as such, but in the immediate experience of real life, we are certain of our action by doing it and not by perceiving our doing; and this our performing and rejecting is really our self which we posit as absolute reality, not by knowing it, but by willing it. This corner-stone of the Fichtean philosophy was forgotten throughout the uncritical and unphilosophical decades of a mere naturalistic age. But our time has finally come to give attention to it again.

Our pure experience thus contains will-attitudes and objects of will, and the different attitudes of the will give the fundamental classes of human activity. We can easily recognize four different types of will-relation towards the world. Our will submits itself to the world; our will approves the world as it is; our will approves the changes in the world; our will transcends the world. Yet we must make at once one more most important discrimination. We have up to this point simplified our pure experience too much. It is not true that we experience only objects and our own will-attitudes. Our will reaches out not only to objects, but also to other subjects. In our most immediate experience, not reshaped at all by theoretical science, our will is in agreement or disagreement with other wills; tries to influence them, and receives influences and suggestions from them. The pseudo-philosophy of naturalism must say of course that the will does not stand in any direct relation to another will, but that the other persons are for us simply material objects which we perceive, like other objects, and into which we project mental phenomena like those which we find in ourselves by the mere conclusion of analogy. But the complex reconstructions of physiological psychology are therein substituted for the primary experience. If we have to express the agreement or disagreement of wills in the terms of causal science, we may indeed be obliged to transform the real experience into such artificial constructions; but in our immediate consciousness, and thus at the starting-point of our theory of knowledge, we have certainly to acknowledge that we understand the other person, accept or do not accept his suggestion, agree or disagree with him, before we know anything of a difference between physical and mental objects.

We cannot agree with an object. We agree directly with a will, which does not come to us as a foreign phenomenon, but as a proposition which we accept or decline. In our immediate experience will thus reaches will, and we are aware of the difference between our will-attitude as merely individual and our will-attitude as act of agreement with the will-attitude of other individuals. We can go still further. The circle of other individuals whose will we express in our own will-act may be narrow or wide, may be our friends or the nation, and this relation clearly constitutes the historical significance of our attitude. In the one case our act is a merely personal choice for personal purposes without any general meaning; in the other case it is the expression of general tendencies and historical movements. Yet our will-decisions can have connections still wider than those with our social community or our nation, or even with all living men of to-day. It can seek a relation to the totality of those whom we aim to acknowledge as real subjects. It thus becomes independent of the chance experience of this or that man, or this or that movement, which appeals to us, but involves in an independent way the reference to every one who is to be acknowledged as a subject at all. Such reference, which is no longer bound to any special group of historical individuals, thus becomes strictly over-individual. We can then discriminate three stages: our merely individual will; secondly, our will as bound by other historical individuals; and thirdly, our over-individual will, which is not influenced by any special individual, but by the general demands for the idea of a personality.

Each of those four great types of will-attitude which we insisted on—that is, of submitting, of approving the given, of approving change, and of transcending—can be carried out on these three stages, that is, as individual act, as historical act, and as over-individual act. And we may say at once that only if we submit and approve and change and transcend in an over-individual act, do we have Truth and Beauty and Morality and Conviction. If we approve, for instance, a given experience in an individual will-act, we have simply personal enjoyment and its object is simply agreeable; if we approve it in harmony with other individuals, we reach a higher attitude, yet one which cannot claim absolute value, as it is dependent on historical considerations and on the tastes and desires of a special group or a school or a nation or an age. But if we approve the given object just as it is in an over-individual will-act, then we have before us a thing of beauty, whose value is not dependent upon our personal enjoyment as individuals, but is demanded as a joy forever, by every one whom we acknowledge at all as a complete subject. In exactly the same way, we may approve a change in the world from any individual point of view: we have then to do with technical, practical achievements; or we may approve it in agreement with others: we then enter into the historical interests of our time. Or we may approve it, finally, in an over-individual way, without any reference to any special personality: then only is it valuable for all time, then only is it morally good. And if our will is transcending experience in an individual way, it can again claim no more than a subjective satisfaction furnished by any superstition or hope. But if the transcending will is over-individual, it reaches the absolute values of religion and metaphysics.

Exactly the same differences, finally, must occur when our will submits itself to experience. This submission may be, again, an individual decision for individual purposes; no absolute value belongs to it. Or it may be again a yielding to the suggestions of other individuals; or it may, finally, again be an over-individual submission, which seeks no longer a personal interest. This submission is not to the authority of others, and is without reference to any individual; we assume that every one who is to share with us our world of experience has to share this submission too. That alone is a submission to truth, and experience, considered in so far as we submit ourselves to it over-individually, constitutes our knowledge.

The system of knowledge is thus the system of experience with all that is involved in it in so far as it demands submission from our over-individual will, and the classification which we are seeking must be thus a division and subdivision of our over-individual submissions. But the submission itself can be of very different characters and these various types must give the deepest logical principles of scientific classification. To point at once to the fundamental differences: our will acknowledges the demands of other wills and of objects. We cannot live our life—and this is not meant in a biological sense, but, first of all, in a teleological sense—our life becomes meaningless, if our will does not respect the reality of will-demands and of objects of will. Now we have seen that the will which demands our decision may be either the individual will of other subjects or the over-individual will, which belongs to every subject as such and is independent of any individuality. We can say at once that in the same way we are led to acknowledge that the object has partly an over-individual character, that is, necessarily belongs to the world of objects of every possible subject, and partly an individual character, as our personal object. We have thus four large groups of experiences to which we submit ourselves: over-individual will-acts, individual will-acts, over-individual objects, individual objects. They constitute the first four large divisions of our system.

The over-individual will-acts, which are as such teleologically binding for every subject and therefore norms for his will, give us the Normative Sciences. The individual will-acts in the world of historical manifoldness give us the Historical Sciences. The objects, in so far as they belong to every individual, make up the physical world, and thus give us the Physical Sciences; and finally the objects, in so far as they belong to the individual, are the contents of consciousness, and thus give us the Mental Sciences. We have then the demarcation lines of our first four large divisions: the Normative, the Historical, the Physical, and the Mental Sciences. Yet their meaning and method and difference must be characterized more fully. We must understand why we have here to deal with four absolutely different types of scientific systems, why the over-individual objects lead us to general laws and to the determination of the future, while the study of the individual will-acts, for instance, gives us the system of history, which turns merely to the past and does not seek natural laws; and why the study of the norms gives us another kind of system in which neither a causal nor an historical, but a purely logical connection prevails. Yet all these methodological differences result necessarily from the material with which these four different groups of sciences are working.

Let us start again from the consideration of our original logical purpose. We feel ourselves bound and limited in our will by physical things, by psychical contents, by the demands of other subjects, and by norms. The purpose of all our knowledge is to develop completely all that is involved in this bondage. We want to develop in an over-individual way all the obligations for our submission which are necessarily included in the given objects and the given demands of subjects. We start of course everywhere and in every direction from the actual experience, but we expand the experience by seeking those objects and those demands to which, as necessarily following from the immediately given experience, we must also submit. And in thus developing the whole system of submissions, the interpretation of the experience itself becomes transformed: the physicist may perhaps substitute imperceptible atoms for the physical object and the psychologist may substitute sensations for the real idea, and the historian may substitute combinations of influences for the real personality, and the student of norms may substitute combinations of conflicting demands for the one complete duty; yet in every case the substitution is logically necessary and furnishes us what we call truth inasmuch as it is needed to develop the concrete system of our submissions and thus to express our confidence in the order-lines of reality. And each of these substitutions and supplementations becomes, as material of knowledge, itself a part of the world of experience.

3. The Physical and the Mental Sciences

The physicist, we said, speaks of the world of objects in so far as they belong to every possible subject, and are material for a merely passive spectator. Of course the pure experience does not offer us anything of that kind. We insisted that the objects of our real life are objects of our will and of our attitudes, and are at the same time undifferentiated into the physical things outside of us and the psychical ideas in us. To reach the abstraction of the physicist, we have thus to cut loose the objects from our will and to separate the over-individual elements from the individual elements. Both transformations are clearly demanded by our logical aims. As to the cutting loose from our will, it means considering the object as if it existed for itself, as if it were a mere passively given material and not a material of our personal interests. But just that is needed. We want to find out how far we have to submit ourselves to the object. If we want to live our life, we must adjust our attitudes to things, and, as we know our will, we must seek to understand the other factor in the complex experience, the object of our will, and we must find out what it involves in itself. But we do not understand the object and the submission which it demands if we do not completely understand its relation to our desires. Our total submission to the thing thus involves our acknowledgment of all that we have to expect from it. And although the real experience is a unity of will and thing, we have thus the most immediate interest in considering what we have to expect from the thing in itself, without reference to our will. That means finding out the effects of the given object with a subject as the passive spectator. We eliminate artificially, therefore, the activity of the subject and construct as presupposition for this circle of knowledge a nowhere existing subject without activity, for which the thing exists merely as a cause of the effects which it produces.

The first step towards natural science is, therefore, to dissolve the real experience into thing and personality; that is, into object and active subject, and to eliminate in an artificial abstraction the activity of the subject, making the object material of merely passive awareness, and related no longer to the will but merely to other objects. It may be more difficult to understand the second step which naturalism has to take before a natural science is possible. It must dissolve the object of will into an over-individual and an individual part and must eliminate the individual. That part of my objects which belongs to me alone is their psychical side; that which belongs to all of us and is the object of ever new experience is the physical object. As a physicist, in the widest sense of the word, I have to ignore the objects in so far as they are my ideas and have to consider the stones and the stars, the inorganic and the organic objects, as they are outside of me, material for every one. The logical purpose of this second abstraction may be perhaps formulated in the following way.

We have seen that the purpose of the study of the objects is to find out what we have to expect from them; that is, to what effects of the given thing we have to submit ourselves in anticipation. The ideal aim is thus to understand completely how present objects and future objects—that is, how causes and effects—are connected. The first stage in such knowledge of causal connections is, of course, the observation of empirical consequences. Our feeling of expectation grows with the regularity of observed succession; yet the ideal aim can never be fulfilled in that way. The mere observation of regularities can help us to reduce a particular case to a frequently observed type, but what we seek to understand is the necessity of the process. Of course we have to formulate laws, and as soon as we acknowledge a special law to be expressive of a necessity, the subsumption of the particular case under the law will satisfy us even if the necessity of the connection is not recognized in the particular case. We are satisfied because the acknowledgment of the law involved all possible cases. But we do not at all feel that we have furnished a real explanation if the law means to us merely a generalization of routine experiences, and if thus no absolute validity is attached to the law. This necessity between cause and effect must thus have its ultimate reason in our own understanding. We must be logically obliged to connect the objects in such a way, and wherever observation seems to contradict that which is logically necessary, we must reshape our idea of the object till the demands of reason are fulfilled. That is, we must substitute for the given object an abstraction which serves the purpose of a logically necessary connection. That demand is clearly not satisfied if we simply group the totality of such causal judgments under the single name, Causality, and designate thus all these judgments as results of a special disposition of the understanding. We never understand why just this cause demands just this effect so long as we rely on such vague and mystical power of our reason to link the world by causality.

But the situation changes at once if we go still further back in the categories of our understanding. While a mere demand for causality never explains what cause is to be linked with what effect, the vagueness disappears when we understand this demand for causality itself as the product of a more fundamental demand for identity. That an object remains identical with itself does not need for us any further interpretation. That is the ultimate presupposition of our thought, and where a complete identity is found nothing demands further explanation. All scientific effort aims at so rethinking different experiences that they can be regarded as partially identical, and every discovery of necessary connection is ultimately a demonstration of identity. If we seek connections with the final aim to understand them as necessary, we must conceive the world of our objects in such a way that it is possible to consider the successive experiences as parts of a self-identical world; that is, as parts of a world in which no substance and no energy can disappear or appear anew. To reach this end it is obviously needed that we eliminate from the world of objects all that cannot be conceived as identically returning in a new experience; that is, all that belongs to the present experience only. We do eliminate this by taking it up conceptually into the subject and calling it psychical, and thus leaving to the object merely that which is conceived as belonging to the world of everybody's experience, that is, of over-individual experience. The whole history of natural science is first of all the gigantic development of this transformation, resolution, and reconstruction. The objects of experience are re-thought till everything is eliminated which cannot be conceived as identical with itself in the experiences of all individuals and thus as belonging to the over-individual world. All the substitutions of atoms for the real thing, and of energies for the real changes, are merely conceptional schemes to satisfy this demand.

The logically primary step is thus not the separation of the physical and the psychical things plus the secondary demand to connect the physical things causally; the order is exactly opposite. The primary desire is to connect the real objects and to understand them as causes and effects. This understanding demands not only empirical observation, but insight into the necessary connection. Necessary connection, on the other hand, exists merely for identical objects and identical qualities. But in the various experiences only that is identical which is independent of the momentary individual experiences, and therefore we need as the ultimate aim a reconstruction of the object into the two parts, the one perceptional, which refers to our individual experience; and the other conceptional, which expresses that which can be conceived as identical in every new experience. The ideal of this constructed world is the mechanical universe in which every atom moves by causal necessity because there is nothing in that universe, no element of substance and no element of energy, which will not remain identical in all changes of the universe which are possibly to be expected. It becomes completely determinable by anticipation and the system of our submissions to the object can be completely constructed. The totality of intellectual efforts to reconstruct such a causally connected over-individual world of objects clearly represents a unity of its own. It is the system of physical sciences.

The physical universe is thus not the totality of our objects. It is a substitution for our real objects, constructed by eliminating the individual parts of our objects of experience. These individual parts are the psychical aspects of our objective experience, and they clearly awake our scientific interest too. The physical sciences need thus as counterpart a division of mental sciences. Their aim must be the same. We want to foresee the psychical results and to understand causally the psychical experience. Yet it is clear that the plan of the mental sciences must be quite different in principle from that of the sciences of nature. The causal connection of the physical universe was ultimately anchored in the identity of the object through various experiences; while the object of experience was psychical for us just in so far as it could never be conceived as identical in different phases of reality. The psychical object is an ever new creation; my idea can never be your idea. Their meaning may be identical, but the psychical stuff, the content of my consciousness, can never be object for any one else, and even in myself the idea of to-day is never the idea of yesterday or to-morrow. But if there cannot be identity in different psychical experiences, it is logically impossible to connect them directly by necessity. If we yet want to master their successive appearance, we must substitute an indirect connection for the direct one, and must describe and explain the psychical phenomena through reference to the physical world. It is in this way that modern psychology has substituted elementary sensations for the real contents of consciousness and has constructed relations between these elementary mental states on the basis of processes in the organism, especially brain processes. Here, again, reality is left behind and a mere conceptional construction is put in its place. But this construction fulfills its purpose and thus gives us truth; and if the basis is once given, the psychological sciences can build up a causal system of the conscious processes in the individual man and in society.

4. The Historical and the Normative Sciences

The two divisions of the physical and mental sciences represent our systematized submission to objects. But we saw from the first that it is an artificial abstraction to consider in our real experience the object alone. We saw clearly that we, as acting personalities, in our will and in our attitudes, do not feel ourselves in relation to objects, merely, but to will-acts; and that these will-acts were the individual ones of other subjects or the over-individual ones which come to us in our consciousness of norms. The sciences which deal with our submissions to the individual will-acts of others are the Historical Sciences. Their starting-point is the same as that of the object sciences, the immediate experience. But the other subjects reach our individuality from the start in a different way from the objects. The wills of other subjects come to us as propositions with which we have to agree or disagree; as suggestions, which we are to imitate or to resist; and they carry in themselves that reference to an opposite which, as we saw, characterizes all will-activity. The rock or the tree in our surroundings may stimulate our reactions, but does not claim to be in itself a decision with an alternative. But the political or legal or artistic or social or religious will of my neighbors not only demands my agreement or disagreement, but presents itself to me in its own meaning as a free decision which rejects the opposite, and its whole meaning is destroyed if I consider it like the tree or the rock as a mere phenomenon, as an object in the world of objects. Whoever has clearly understood that politics and religion and knowledge and art and law come to me from the first quite differently from objects, can never doubt that their systematic connection must be most sharply separated from all the sciences which connect impressions of objects, and is falsified if the historical disciplines are treated simply as parts of the sciences of phenomena—for instance, as parts of sociology, the science of society as a psycho-physical object.

Just as natural science transcends the immediately experienced object and works out the whole system of our necessary submissions to the world of objects, so the historical sciences transcend the social will-acts which approach us in our immediate experience, and again seek to find what we are really submitting to if we accept the suggestions of our social surroundings. And yet this similar demand has most dissimilar consequences. We submit to an object and want to find out what we are really submitting to. That cannot mean anything else, as we have seen, than to seek the effects of the object and thus to look forward to what we have to expect from the object. On the other hand, if we want to find out what we are really submitting to if we agree with the decision of our neighbor, the only meaning of the question can be to ask what our neighbor really is deciding on, what is contained in his decision; and as his decision must mean an agreement or disagreement with the will-act of another subject, we cannot understand the suggestion which comes to us without understanding in respect to what propositions of others it takes a stand. Our interest is in this case thus led from those subjects of will which enter into our immediate experience to other subjects whose purposes stand in the relation of suggestion and demand to the present ones. And if we try to develop the system of these relations, we come to an endless chain of will-relations, in which one individual will always points back in its decisions to another individual will with which it agrees or disagrees, which it imitates or overcomes by a new attitude of will; and the whole network of these will-relations is the political or religious or artistic or social history of mankind. This system of history as a system of teleologically connected will-attitudes is elaborated from the will-propositions which reach us in immediate experience, with the same necessity with which the mechanical universe of natural science is worked out from the objects of our immediate experience.

The historical system of will-connections is similar to the system of object-connections, not only in its starting in the immediate experience, but further in its also seeking identities. Without this feature history would not offer to our understanding real connections. We must link the will-attitudes of men by showing the identity of the alternatives. Just as the physical thing is substituted by a large number of atoms which remain identical in the causal changes, in the same way the personality is substituted by an endless manifoldness of decisions and becomes linked with the historical community by the thought that each of these partial decisions refers to an alternative which is identical with that of other persons. And yet there remains a most essential difference between the historical and the causal connection. In a world of things the mere identical continuity is sufficient to determine the phenomena of any given moment. In a world of will the identity of alternatives cannot determine beforehand the actual decision; that belongs to the free activity of the subject. If this factor of freedom were left out, man would be made an object and history a mere appendix of natural science. The connection of the historian can therefore never be a necessary one, however much we may observe empirical regularities. If there were no identities, our reason could not find connection in history; but if the historical connections were necessary, like the causal ones, it would not be history. The historian is, therefore, unable and without the ambition to look into the future like the naturalist; his domain is the past.

Yet will-attitudes and will-acts can also be brought into necessary connection; that is, we can conceive will-acts as teleologically identical with each other and exempt from the freedom of the individual. That is clearly possible only if they are conceived as beyond the freedom of individual decision and related to the over-individual subject. The question is then no longer how this special man wills and decides, but how far a certain will-decision binds every possible individual who performs this act if he is to share our common world of will and meaning. Such an over-individual connection of will-acts is what we call the logical connection. It shares with all other connections the dependence upon the category of identity. The logical connection shows how far one act or combination of acts involves, and thus is partially identical with, a new combination. This logical connection has, in common with the causal connection, necessity; and in common with the historical connection, teleological character. Any individual will-act of historical life may be treated for certain purposes as such a starting-point of over-individual relations; it would then lead to that scientific treatment which gives us an interpretation, for instance, of law. Such interpretative sciences belong to the system of history in the widest sense of the word.

The chief interest, however, must belong to the logical connections of those will-acts which themselves have over-individual character. A merely individual proposition can lead to necessary logical connection, but cannot claim that scientific importance which belongs to the logical connection of those propositions which are necessary for the constitution of every real experience: the science of chess cannot stand on the same level with the science of geometry, the science of local legal statutes not on the same level with the system of ethics. The logical connections of the over-individual attitudes thus constitute the fourth large division besides the physical, the mental, and the historical sciences. It must thus comprise the systems of all those propositions which are presuppositions of our common reality, independent of the free individual decision. Here belong the acts of approval—the ethical approval of changes and achievements, as well as the æsthetic approval of the given world; the acts of conviction—the religious convictions of a superstructure of the world as well as the metaphysical convictions of a substructure; and above all, the acts of affirmation and submission, the logical as well as the mathematical. But to be consistent we must really demand that merely the over-individual logical connections are treated in this division. If we deal, for instance, with the æsthetical or ethical acts as psychological experiences, or as historical propositions, they belong to the psychical or historical division. Only the philosophical system of ethics or æsthetics finds its place in this division. It is difficult to find a suitable name for this whole system of logical connections of over-individual attitudes. Perhaps it would be most correct to call it the Sciences of Values, inasmuch as every one of these over-individual decisions constitutes a value in our world which our individual will finds as an absolute datum like the objects of experience. Seen from another point of view, these values appear as norms which bind our practical will inasmuch as these absolute values demand of our will to realize them, and it may thus be permitted to designate this whole group of sciences as a Division of Normative Sciences.

Our logical explanation of the meaning of these four divisions naturally began with the interpretation of that science which usually takes precedence in popular thought—with the science of nature, that is, and passed then to those groups whose methodological situation is seen rather vaguely by our positivistic age. But as soon as we have once defined and worked out the boundary lines of each of these four divisions, it would appear more logical to change their order and to begin with that division whose material is those over-individual will-acts on which all possible knowledge must depend, and then to turn to those individual will-acts which determine the formulation of our present-day knowledge, and then only to go to the objects of knowledge, the over-individual and the individual ones. In short, we must begin with the normative sciences, consider in the second place the historical sciences, in the third place the physical sciences, and in the fourth place the psychical sciences. There cannot be a scientific judgment which must not find its place somewhere in one of these four groups. And yet can we really say that these four great divisions complete the totality of scientific efforts? The plan of our Congress contains three important divisions besides these.

5. The Three Divisions of Practical Sciences

The three divisions which still lie before us represent Practical Knowledge. Have we a logical right to put them on an equal level with the four large divisions which we have considered so far? Might it not rather be said that all that is knowledge in those practical sciences must find its place somewhere in the theoretical field, and that everything outside of it is not knowledge, but art? It cannot be denied indeed that the logical position of the practical sciences presents serious problems. That the function of the engineer or of the physician, of the lawyer or of the minister, of the diplomat or of the teacher, contains elements of an art cannot be doubted. They all need not only knowledge, but a certain instinct and power and skill, and their schooling thus demands a training and discipline through imitation which cannot be substituted by mere learning. Yet when it comes to the classification of sciences, it seems very doubtful whether practical sciences have to be acknowledged as special divisions, inasmuch as the factor of art must have been eliminated at the moment they are presented as sciences. The auscultation of the physician certainly demands skill and training, yet this practical activity itself does not enter into the science of medicine as presented in medical writings. As soon as the physician begins to deal with it scientifically, he needs, as does any scholar, not the stethoscope, but the pen. He must formulate judgments; and as soon as he simply describes and analyzes and explains and interprets his stethoscopic experiences, his statements become a system of theoretical ideas.

We can say in general that the science of medicine or of engineering, of jurisprudence or of education, contains, as science, no element of art, but merely theoretical judgments which, as such, can find their place somewhere in the complete systems of the theoretical sciences. If the physician describes a disease, its symptoms, the means of examining them, the remedies, their therapeutical effects, and the prophylaxis, in short, everything which the physician needs for his art, he does not record anything which would not belong to an ideally complete description and explanation of the processes in the human body. In the same way it can be said that if the engineer characterizes the conditions under which an iron bridge will be safe, it is evident that he cannot introduce any facts which would not find their logical place in an ideally complete description of the properties of inorganic nature; and finally, the same is true for the statements of the politician, the jurist, the pedagogue, or the minister. Whatever is said about their art is a theoretical judgment which connects facts of the ideally complete system of theoretical science; in their case the facts of course belong in first line to the realm of the psychological, historical, and normative sciences. There never has been or can be practical advice in the form of words, which is not in principle a statement of facts which belong to the absolute totality of theoretical knowledge. Seen from this point of view, it is evident that all our knowledge is fundamentally theoretical, and that the conception of practical knowledge is logically unprecise.

But the opposite point of view might also be taken. It might be said that after all every kind of knowledge is practical, and our own deduction of the meaning of science might be said to suggest such interpretation. We acknowledged at the outset that the so-called theoretical knowledge is by no means a passive mirrorpicture of an independent outside world; but that in every judgment real experience is remoulded and reshaped in the service of certain purposes of will. Here lies the true core of that growing popular philosophy of to-day which, under the name of pragmatism, or under other titles, mingles the purposive character of our knowledge and the evolutionary theories of modern biology in the vague notion that men created knowledge because the biological struggle for existence led to such views of the world; and that we call true that correlation of our experiences which has approved itself through its harmony with the phylogenetic development. Certainly we must reject such circle philosophies. We must see clearly that the whole conception of a biological development and of a struggle of organisms is itself only a part of our construction of causal knowledge. We must have knowledge to conceive ourselves as products of a phylogenetic history, and thus cannot deduce from it the fact, and, still less, the justification of knowledge. Yet one element of this theory remains valuable: knowledge is indeed a purposive activity, a reconstruction of the world in the service of ideals of the will. We have thus from one side the suggestion that all knowledge is merely theoretical, from the other side the claim that all knowledge is practical activity. It seems as if both sides might agree that it is superfluous and unjustified to make a demarcation line through the field of knowledge and to separate two sorts of knowledge, theoretical and practical. For both theories demand that all knowledge be of one kind, and they disagree only as to whether we ought to call it all theoretical or all practical.

Yet the true situation is not characterized by such an antithesis. If we say that all knowledge is ultimately practical, we are speaking from an epistemological point of view, inasmuch as we take it then as a reconstruction of the world through the purposive activity of the over-individual subject. On the other hand it is an empirical point of view from which ultimately all knowledge, that of the physician and engineer and lawyer, as well as that of the astronomer, appears theoretical. But this antithesis can, therefore, not decide the further empirical question, whether or not in the midst of theoretical knowledge two kinds of sciences may be discriminated, of which the one refers to empirical practical purposes and the other not. Such an inquiry would have nothing to do with the epistemological problem of pragmatism; it would be strictly non-philosophical, just as the separation of chemistry into organic and inorganic chemistry. This empirical question is indeed to be answered in the affirmative. If we ask what causes bring about a certain effect, for the sake of a practical purpose of ours,—for instance, the curing a patient of disease,—no one can state facts which are not in principle to be included in the complete system of physical causes and effects and thus in the system of physical sciences. And yet it may well be that the physical sciences, as such, have not the slightest reason to mention the effect of that special drug on that special pathological alteration of the tissues of the organism. The descriptions and explanations of science are not a mere heaping up of material, but a steady selection in the interest of the special aim of the science. No physical science describes every special pebble on the beach; no historical science deals with the chance happenings in the daily life of any member of the crowd. And we already well know the point of view from which the selection is to be performed. We want to know in the physical and psychical sciences whatever is involved in the object of our experience, and in the historical and normative sciences whatever is involved in the demands which reach our will. But whether we have to do with the objects or with the demands, in both cases we have systems before us which are determined only by the objects or demands themselves, without any relation to our individual will and our own practical activity. Theoretically, of course, our will, our activity, our organism, our personality is included in the complete system; and if we knew absolutely everything of the empirical effects of the object or of the consequences of these demands, we should find among them their relation to our individual interests; but that relation would be but one chance case among innumerable others, and the sciences would not have the slightest interest in giving any attention to that particular case. Thus if our knowledge of chemical substances were complete, we should certainly have to know theoretically that a few grains of antipyrine introduced into the organism have an influence on those brain centres which regulate the temperature of the human body. Yet if the chemist does not share the interest of the physician who wants to fight a fever, he would have hardly any reason for examining this particular relation, as it hardly throws light on the chemical constitution as such. In this way we might say in general that the relation of the world to us as acting individuals is in principle contained in the total system of the relations of our world of experience, but has a strictly accidental place there and can never be in itself a centre around which the scientific data are clustered, and science will hardly have an interest in giving any attention to its details.

This relation of the world, the physical, the psychical, the historical, and the normative world, to our individual, practical purposes can, however, indeed become the centre of scientific interest, and it is evident that the whole inquiry receives thereupon a perfectly new direction which demands not only a completely new grouping of facts and relations, but also a very different shading in elaboration. As long as the purpose was to understand the world without relation to our individual aims, science had to gather endless details which are for us now quite indifferent, as they do not touch our aims; and in other respects science was satisfied with broad generalizations and abstractions where we have now to examine the most minute details. In short, the shifting of the centre of gravity creates perfectly new sciences which must be distinguished; and if we call them again theoretical and practical sciences, it is clear that this difference has then no longer anything to do with the philosophical problems from which we started.

The term practical may be preferable to the other term which is sometimes used: Applied Science. If we construct the antithesis of theoretical and applied science, the underlying idea is clearly that we have to do on the practical side with a discipline which teaches how to apply a science which logically exists as such beforehand. Engineering, for instance, is an applied science because it applies the science of physics; but this is not really our deepest meaning here. Our practical sciences are not meant as mere applications of theoretical sciences. They are logically somewhat degraded if they are treated in such a way. Their real logical meaning comes out only if they are acknowledged as self-dependent sciences whose material is differentiated from that of the theoretical sciences by the different point of view and purpose. They are methodologically perfectly independent, and the fact that a large part or theoretically even everything of their teaching overlaps the teaching of certain theoretical sciences ought not to have any influence on their logical standing. The practical sciences could be conceived as completely self-dependent, without the existence of any so-called theoretical sciences; that is, the relations of the world of experience to our individual aims might be brought into complete systems without working out in principle the system of independent experience. We might have a science of engineering without acknowledging an independent science of theoretical physics besides it. To be sure, such a science of engineering would finally develop itself into a system which would contain very much that might just as well be called theoretical physics; yet all would be held together by the point of view of the engineer, and that part of theoretical physics which the engineer applies might just as well be considered as depracticalized engineering. If this logical self-dependence of the practical science holds true even for such technological disciplines, it is still more evident that it would cripple the meaning and independent character of jurisprudence and social science, or of pedagogy and theology, to treat them simply as applied sciences, that is, as applications of theoretical science.

This point of view determines, also, of course, the classification of the Practical Sciences. If they were really merely applied sciences it would be most natural to group them according to the classification of the theoretical sciences which are to be applied. We should then have applied physical sciences, applied psychological sciences, applied historical sciences, and applied normative sciences. Yet even from the standpoint of practice, we should come at once into difficulties, and indeed much of the superficiality of practical sciences to-day results from the hasty tendency to consider them as applied sciences only, and thus to be determined by the points of view of the theoretical discipline which is to be applied. Then, for instance, pedagogy becomes simply applied psychology, and the psychological point of view is substituted for the educational one. Pedagogy then becomes simply a selection of those chapters in psychology which deal with the mental functions of the child. Yet as soon as we really take the teachers' point of view, we understand at once that it is utterly artificial to substitute the categories of the psychologist for those of immediate practical will-relations and to consider the child in the class-room as a causal system of psycho-physical elements instead of a personality which is teleologically to be interpreted, and whose aims are not to be connected with causal effects but with over-individual attitudes. In this way the historical relation and the normative relation have to play at least as important a rôle in the pedagogical system as the psycho-physical relation, and we might quite as well call education applied history and applied ethics.

Almost every practical science can be shown in this way to apply a number of theoretical sciences; it synthesizes them to a new unity. But better, we ought to say, that it is a unity in itself from the start, and that it only overlaps with a number of theoretical sciences. If we want to classify the practical sciences, we have thus only the one logical principle at our disposal: we must classify them in accordance with the group of human individual aims which control those different disciplines. If all practical sciences deal with the relation of the world of experience to our individual practical ends, the classes of those ends are the classes of our practical sciences, whatever combinations of applied theoretical sciences may enter into the group. Of course a special classification of these aims must remain somewhat arbitrary; yet it may seem most natural to separate three large divisions. We called them the Utilitarian Sciences, the Sciences of Social Regulation, and the Sciences of Social Culture. Utilitarian we may call those sciences in which our practical aim refers to the world of things; it may be the technical mastery of nature or the treatment of the body, or the production, distribution, and consumption of the means of support. The second division contains everything in which our aim does not refer to the thing, but to the other subjects; here naturally belong the sciences which deal with the political, legal, and social purposes. And finally the sciences of culture refer to those aims in which not the individual relations to things or to other subjects are in the foreground, but the purposes of the teleological development of the subject himself; education, art, and religion here find their place. It is, of course, evident that the material of these sciences frequently allows the emphasis of different aspects. For instance, education, which aims primarily at self-development, might quite well be considered also from the point of view of social regulation; and still more naturally could the utilitarian sciences of the economic distribution of the means of support be considered from this point of view. Yet a classification of sciences nowhere suggests by its boundary lines that there are no relations and connections between the different parts; on the contrary, it is just the manifoldness of these given connections which makes it so desirable to become conscious of the principles involved, and thus to emphasize logical demarcation lines, which of course must be obliterated as soon as any material is to be treated from every possible point of view. It may thus well be that, for instance, a certain industrial problem could be treated in the Normative Sciences from the point of view of ethics; in the Historical Sciences, from the point of view of the history of economic institutions; in the Physical Sciences, from the point of view of physics or chemistry; in the Mental Sciences, from the point of view of sociology; in the Utilitarian Sciences, from the point of view of medicine or of engineering, or of commerce and transportation; and finally in the Regulative Sciences, from the point of view of political administration, or in the Social Sciences, from the standpoint of the urban community, and so on. The more complex the relations are, the more necessary is it to make clean distinctions between the different logical purposes with which the scientific inquiries start. Practical life may demand a combination of historical, sociological, psychological, economical, social, and ethical considerations; but not one of these sciences can contribute its best if the consciousness of these differences is lost and the deliberate combination is replaced by a vague mixture of the problems.

6. The Subdivisions

We have now before us the ground-plan of the scheme, the four theoretical divisions, and the three practical divisions; every additional comment on the classification must be of secondary importance, as it has to refer to the smaller subdivisions, which cannot change the principles of the plan, and which have not seldom, indeed, been a result of practical considerations. If, for instance, our Division of Cultural Sciences shows in the final plan merely the departments of Education and of Religion, while the originally planned Department of Art is left out, there was no logical reason for it, but merely the practical ground that it seemed difficult to bring such a practical art section to a desirable scientific level; we confine art, therefore, to the normative æsthetic and historical points of view. Or, to choose another illustration, if it happened that the normative sciences were finally organized without a section for the philosophy of law, this resulted from the fact that the American jurists, in contrast with their Continental European colleagues, showed a general lack of appreciation for such a section. A few sections had to be left out even for the chance reason that the leading speakers were obliged to withdraw at a time when it was too late to ask substitutes to work up addresses. And almost everywhere there had to be something arbitrary in the limitation of the special sections. Though Otology and Laryngology were brought together into one section, they might just as well have been placed in two; and Rhinology, which was left out, might have been added as a third in that company. As to this subtler ramification, the plan has been changed several times during the period of the practical preparation of the plan, and much is the result of adjustment to questions of personalities. No one claims, thus, any special logical value for the final formulation of the sectional details, for which our chief aim was not to go beyond eight times sixteen, that is 128, sections, inasmuch as it was planned to have the meetings at eight different time-periods in sixteen different halls. If we had fulfilled all the wishes which were expressed by specialists, the number would have been quickly doubled.

Yet a few remarks may be devoted to the branching off within the seven divisions, as a short discussion of some of these details may throw additional light on the general principles of the whole plan. If we thus begin with the Normative Sciences, we stand at once before one feature of the plan which has been in an especially high degree a matter of both approval and criticism: the fact that Mathematics is grouped with Philosophy. The Division was to contain, as we have seen, the systems of logically connected will-acts of the over-individual subject. That Ethics or Logic or Æsthetics or Philosophy of Religion deals with such over-individual attitudes cannot be doubted; but have we a right to coördinate the mathematical sciences with these philosophical sciences? Has Mathematics not a more natural place among the physical sciences coördinated with and introductory to Mechanics, Physics, and Astronomy? The mathematicians themselves would often be inclined to accept without hesitation this neighborhood of the physical sciences. They would say that the mathematical objects are independent realities whose properties we study like those of nature, whose relations we "observe," whose existence we "discover," and in which we are interested because they belong to the real world. All this is true, and yet the objects of the mathematician are objects made by the logical will only, and thus different from all phenomena into which sensation enters. The mathematician, of course, does not reflect on the purely logical origin of the objects which he studies, but the system of knowledge must give to the study of the mathematical objects its place in the group where the functions and products of the over-individual attitudes are classified. The mathematical object is a free creation, and a creation not only as to the combination of elements—that would be the case with many laboratory substances of the chemist too—but a creation as to the elements themselves, and the value of that creation, its "mathematical interest," is to be judged by ideals of thought; that is, by logical purposes. No doubt this logical purpose is its application in the world of objects and the mathematical concepts must thus fit the objective world so absolutely that mathematics can be conceived as a description of the world after abstracting not only from the will-relations, as physics does, but also from the content. Mathematics would, then, be the phenomenalistic science of the form and order of the world. In this way, mathematics has indeed a claim to places in both divisions: among the physical sciences if we emphasize its applicability to the world, and among the teleological sciences if we emphasize the free creation of the objects by the logical will. But if we really go back to epistemological principles, our system has to prefer the latter emphasis; that is, we must coördinate mathematics with logic and not with physics.

As to the subdivision of philosophy, it is most essential for us to point to the negative fact that of course psychology cannot have a place in the philosophical department, as part of the Normative Division. There is perhaps no science whose position in the system of knowledge offers so many methodological difficulties as psychology. Historical tradition of course links it with philosophy; throughout a great part of its present endeavors it is, on the other hand, linked with physiology. Thus we find it sometimes coördinated with logic and ethics, and sometimes, especially in the classical positivistic systems, coördinated with the sciences of the organic functions. We have seen why a really logical treatment has to disregard those historical and practical relations and has to separate the psychological sciences from the philosophical and the biological sciences. Yet even this does not complete the list of problems which must be settled, inasmuch as modern thinkers have frequently insisted that psychology itself allows a twofold aspect. We can have a psychology which describes and explains the mental life by analyzing it into its elements and by connecting these elements through causality. But there may be another psychology which treats inner life in that immediate unity in which we experience it and seeks to interpret it as the free function of personality. This latter kind of psychology has been called voluntaristic psychology as against the phenomenalistic psychology which seeks description and explanation. Such voluntaristic psychology would clearly belong again to a different division. It would be a theory of individual life as a function of will, and would thus be introductory to the historical sciences and to the normative sciences too. Yet we left out this teleological psychology from our programme, as such a science is as yet a programme only. Wherever an effort is made to realize it, it becomes an odd mixture of an inconsistent phenomenalistic psychology on the one side, and philosophy of history, logic, ethics, and æsthetics on the other side. The only science which really has a right to call itself psychology is the one which seeks to describe and to explain inner life and treats it therefore as a system of psychical objects, that is, as contents of consciousness, that is, as phenomena. Psychology belongs, then, in the general division of psychical sciences as over against physical sciences, and both deal with objects as over against philosophy and history, which deal with subjects of will.

The subdivision of the Historical Sciences offers no methodological difficulty as soon as those epistemological arguments are acknowledged by which we sharply distinguish history from the Physical and Mental Sciences. If history is a system of will-relations which is in teleological connection with the will-demands that surround us, then political history loses its predominant rôle, and the history of law and of literature, of language and of economy, of art and religion, become coördinated with political development, while the mere anthropological aspect of man is relegated to the physical sciences. The more complete original scheme was here again finally condensed for practical reasons; for instance, the planned departments on the History of Education, on the History of Science, and on the History of Philosophy were sacrificed, and the department of Economic History was joined to that of Political History. In the same way we felt obliged to omit in the end many important sections in the departments; we had, for instance, in the History of Language at first a section on Slavic Languages; yet the number of scholars interested was too small to justify its existence beside a section on Slavic Literature. Also the History of Music was omitted from the History of Art; and the History of Law was planned at first with a fuller ramification.

The division of Physical Sciences naturally suggested that kind of subdivision which the positivistic classification presents as a complete system of sciences. Considering physics and chemistry as the two fundamental sciences of general laws, we turn first to astronomy, then from the science of the whole universe to the one planet, to the sciences of the earth; thence to the living organisms on the earth; and from biology to the still narrower circle of anthropology. The special classification of physics offers a certain difficulty. To divide it in text-book fashion into sound, light, electricity, etc., seems hardly in harmony with the effort to seek logical principles in the other parts of the classification. The three groups which we finally formed, Physics of Matter, Physics of Ether, and Physics of Electron, may appear somewhat too much influenced by the latest theories of to-day, yet it seemed preferable to other principles. In the biological department, criticism seems justified in view of the fact that we constructed a special section, Human Anatomy. A strictly logical scheme might have acknowledged that human anatomy is to-day not a separate science, and that it has resolved itself into comparative anatomy. Sections of Invertebrate and Vertebrate Anatomy might have been more satisfactory. The final arrangement was a concession to the practical interests of the physicians, who have naturally to emphasize the anatomy of the human organism.

In the division of Mental Sciences, we have the Department of Sociology. We were, of course, aware that the sociological interest includes not only the psychological, but also the physiological life of society, and that it thus has relations to the physical sciences too. Yet these relations are logically not more fundamental than those of the individual mental life to the functions of the individual organism. Much of the physiological side was further to be handed over to the Department of Anthropology, and thus we felt justified in grouping sociology with psychology under the Mental Sciences, as the psychology of the social organism. Here, too, a larger number of sections was intended and only the two most essential ones, Social Structure and Social Psychology, were finally admitted.

The ramifications of the practical sciences had to follow the general principle that their character is determined by purpose and not by material. The difficulty was here merely in the extreme specialization of the practical disciplines, which suggests on the whole the forming of very small units, while our plan was to provide for fifty practical sections only. It seemed, therefore, incongruous to have the whole of Internal Medicine or the whole of Private Law condensed into one section. Yet as the purpose of the scheme was a theoretical and not a practical one, even where the theory of practical sciences was in question, we felt justified in constructing coördinated sections, even where the practical importance was very unequal. On the other hand, some glaring defects just here are due merely to chance circumstances. That there were, for instance, no sections on Criminal Law or Ecclesiastical Law in the Department of Jurisprudence, nor on Legal Procedure, resulted from the unfortunate accident that in these cases the speakers who were to come from Europe were withheld by illness or public duties. The absence of the Department of Art in the Division of Social Culture, and thus of the Sections on the theory and practice of the different arts, has been explained before. It is evident that also in the Economical Department the practical development has interfered with the original symmetrical arrangement of the sections. This is not true of the Religious Department, whose six sections express the tendencies of the original plan. The frequently expressed criticism that the different religions and their denominations ought to have found place there shows a misconception of our purpose; a Parliament of Religion did not belong to this plan.

III

THE RESULTS OF THE CONGRESS

The programme of the Congress, as outlined in the previous pages, was in this case somewhat more than a mere programme. It not only invited to do a piece of work, but it sought to contribute to the work itself. Yet the chief work had to be done by others, and their part needed careful preparation. Yet very little of the preparation showed itself to the eyes of the larger public, and few were fully aware what a complex organization was growing up and how many persons of mark were coöperating.

It was essential to find for every address the best man. Specialists only could suggest to the committees where to find him. It has been told before how our invitations were brought to the foreigners first till the desired number of foreign participants was secured, and how the Americans followed. As could not be otherwise expected, interferences of all kinds disturbed the ideal configuration of the first list of acceptances; substitutes had sometimes to be relied on; and yet, when on the nineteenth of September President Francis welcomed the Congress of Arts and Science in the gigantic Festival Hall of the St. Louis Exposition, the Committee knew that almost four hundred speakers had completed their manuscripts, and that it was a galaxy which far surpassed in importance that of any previous international congress. And the list of those who stood for the success of the work was not confined to the official speakers. Each Department and each Section had its own honorary President, who was also chosen by the consent of leading specialists and whose introductory remarks were to give additional importance to the gathering. At their side stood the hundred and thirty Secretaries, carefully chosen from among the productive scholars of the younger generation. And a large number of informal, yet officially invited contributors, had announced valuable discussions and addresses for almost every Section. Invitations to membership finally had been sent to the universities and scholarly societies of all countries.

That the turmoil of a world's fair is out of harmony with the scholar's longing for repose and quietude is a natural presupposition, which has not been disproved by the experience of St. Louis. When Professor Newcomb, our President, spoke to the opening assembly on the dignity of scholarship, the scholar's peaceful address was accentuated by the thunder of the cannons with which Boer and British forces were playing at war near by. The roaring of the Pike overpowered many a quiet session, and the patient speaker had not seldom to fight heroically with a brass band on the next lawn. The trains were delayed, trunks were mixed up, and the sultry St. Louis weather stirred much secret longing for the seashore and the mountains, which most had to leave too early for that pilgrimage to the Mississippi Valley. Yet all this could have been easily foreseen, and every one knew that all this would soon be forgotten. These slight discomforts were many times made up for by the overwhelming beauty of that ivory city in which the civilization of the world was focused by the united energy of the nations, and it seemed well worth while to cross the ocean for the delight of that enchantment which came with every evening's myriad illumination. And every day brought interesting festivities. No one will forget the receptions of the foreign commissioners, or the charming hospitality of the leading citizens of St. Louis, or the enthusiastic banquet which brought one thousand speakers and presidents and official members of the Congress together as guests of the master mind of the Exposition, President Francis.

While the discomfort of external shortcomings was thus easily balanced, it is more doubtful whether the internal shortcomings of the work can be considered as fully compensated for. It would be impossible to overlook these defects in the realization of our plans, even if it may be acknowledged that they were unavoidable under the given conditions. The principal difficulty has been that many speakers have not really treated the topic for the discussion of which they were invited. This deviation from the plan took various forms. There was in some cases a fundamental attitude taken which did not harmonize with those logical principles which had led to the classification; for instance, we had sharply separated, for reasons fully stated above, the Division of History from the Division of Mental Sciences, including sociology; yet some papers for the Division of History clearly indicated sympathy with the traditional positivistic view, according to which history becomes simply a part of sociology. And similar variations of the general plan occur in almost every division. But there cannot be any objection to this secondary variety as long as the whole framework gives the primary uniformity. Certainly no one of the contributors is to be blamed for it; no one was pledged to the philosophy of the general plan, and probably few would have agreed if any one had had the idea of demanding from every contributor an identical background of general convictions. Such monotony would have been even harmful, as the work would have become inexpressive of the richness of tendencies in the scholarly life of our time. This was not an occasion where educated clerks were to work up in a secondhand way a report whose general trend was determined beforehand; the work demanded original thinkers, with whom every word grows out of a rich individual view of the totality. If every paper had been meant merely as a detailed amplification of the logical principles on which the whole plan was based, it would have been wiser to set young Doctor candidates to work, who might have elaborated the hint of the general scheme. To invite the leaders of knowledge meant to give them complete freedom and to confine the demands of the plan to a most general direction.

The same freedom, which every one was to have as to the general standpoint, was intended also for all with regard to the arrangement and limitation of the topic. All the sectional addresses were supposed to deal either with relations or with fundamental problems of to-day. It would have been absurd to demand that in every case the totality of relations or of problems should be covered or even touched. The result would have become perfunctory and insignificant. No one intended to produce a cyclopedia. It was essential everywhere to select that which was most characteristic of the tendencies of the age and most promising for the science of the twentieth century. Those problems were to be emphasized whose solution is most demanded for the immediate progress of knowledge, and those relations had to be selected through which new connections, new synthetic thoughts prepare themselves to-day. That this selection had to be left to the speaker was a matter of course.

Yet it may be said that in all these directions, with reference to the general standpoint and with reference to problems and relations, the Organizing Committee had somewhat prepared the choice through the selection of the speakers themselves. As the standpoints of the leading speakers were well known, it was not difficult to invite as far as possible for every place a scholar whose general views would be least out of harmony with the principles of the plan. For instance, when we had the task before us of selecting the divisional speakers for the Normative and for the Mental Sciences, it was only natural to invite for the first a philosopher of idealistic type and for the latter a philosopher of positivistic stamp, inasmuch as the whole scheme gave to the mental sciences the same place which they would have had in a positivistic scheme, while the normative sciences would have lost the meaning which they had in our plan if a positivist had simply psychologized them. In the same way we gave preference as far as possible, for the addresses on relations, to those scholars whose previous work was concerned with new synthetic movements, and as speakers on problems those were invited who were in any case engaged in the solution of those problems which seemed central in the present state of science. Thus it was that on the whole the expectation was justified that the most characteristic relations and the most characteristic problems would be selected if every invited speaker spoke essentially on those relations and on those problems with which his own special work was engaged.

Yet there is no doubt that this expectation was sometimes fulfilled beyond our anticipation, in an amount of specialization which was no longer entirely in harmony with the general character of the undertaking. The general problem has become sometimes only the starting-point or almost the pretext for speaking on some relation or problem so detailed that it can hardly stand as a representative symbol of the whole movement in that sectional field. Especially in the practical sciences more room was sometimes taken for particular hobbies and chance aspects than in the eyes of the originators the occasion may have called for. Yet on the whole this was the exception. The overwhelming majority of the addresses fulfilled nobly the high hopes of the Boards, and even in those exceptional cases where the speaker went his own way, it was usually such an original and stimulating expression of a strong personality that no one would care to miss this tone in the symphony of science.

Even now of course, though the Congress days have passed, and only typewritten manuscripts are left from all those September meetings, it would be easy to provide, by editorial efforts, for a greater uniformity and a smoother harmonization. Most of the authors would have been quite willing to retouch their addresses in the interest of greater objective uniformity and to accept the hint of an editorial committee in elaborating more fully some points and in condensing or eliminating others. Much was written in the desire to bring a certain thought for discussion before such an eminent audience, while the speaker would be ready to substitute other features of the subject for the permanent form of the printed volume. Yet such editorial supervision and transformation would be not only immodest but dangerous. We might risk gaining some external uniformity, but only to lose much of the freshness and immediacy and brilliancy of the first presentation. And who would dare to play the critical judge when the international contributors are the leaders of thought? There was therefore not the slightest effort made to suggest revision of the manuscripts, for which the whole responsibility must thus fall to the particular author. The reduction to a uniform language seemed, on the other hand, most natural, and those who had delivered their addresses in French, German, or Italian themselves welcomed the idea that their papers should be translated into English by competent specialists. The short bibliographies, selected mostly through the chairman of the departments, and the very full index with references may add to the general usefulness of the eight volumes in which the work is to be presented.

But the significance of the Congress of Arts and Science ought not to be measured and valued only by reference to this printed result. Its less visible side-effects seem in no way less important for scholarship, and they are fourfold. There was, first, the personal contact between the scholarly public and the leaders of thought; there was, secondly, the first academic alliance between the United States and Europe; there was, thirdly, the first demonstration of a world congress crystallized about one problem; there was, fourthly, the unique accentuation of the thought of unity in all human science; and each of these four movements will be continued and reinforced by the publication of these proceedings.

The first of these four features, the contact of the scholarly public with the best thinkers of our time, had, to be sure, its limitations. It was not sought to create a really popular congress. Neither the level of the addresses, nor the size of the halls, nor the number of invitations sent out, nor the general conditions of a world's fair at which the expense of living is high and the distractions thousandfold, favored the attendance of crowds. It was planned from the first that on the whole scholars and specialists should attend and that the army should be made up essentially of officers. If in an astronomical section perhaps thirty men were present, among whom practically every one was among the best known directors of observatories or professors of mathematics, astronomy, or physics, from all countries of the globe, much more was gained than if three thousand had been in the audience, brought together by an interest of curiosity in moon and stars. For the most part there must have been between a hundred and two hundred in each of the 128 sectional meetings, and that was more than the organizers expected. This direct influence on the interested public is now to be expanded a thousandfold by the mission work of these volumes. The concentration of these hundreds of addresses into a few days made it in any case impossible to listen to more than to a small fraction; these volumes will bring at last all speakers to coördinated effectiveness; and while one hall suffered from bad acoustics, another from bad ventilation, and a third from the passing of the intermural trains, here at least is an audience in which nothing will disturb the sensitive nerves of the willing follower.

But much more emphasis is due to the second feature. The Congress was an epoch-making event for the international world of scholarship from the fact that it was the first great undertaking in which the Old and the New Worlds stood on equal levels and in which Europe really became acquainted with the scientific life of these United States. The contact of scholarship between America and Europe has, indeed, grown in importance through many decades. Many American students had studied in European and especially in German universities and had come back to fill the professorial chairs of the leading academic institutions. The spirit of the Graduate School and the work towards the Doctor's degree, yes, the whole productive scholarship of recent decades had been influenced by European ideals, and the results were no longer ignored at the seats of learning throughout the whole world. European scholars had here and there come as visiting lecturers or as assimilated instructors, and a few American scholars belonged to the leading European Academies. Yet, whoever knew the real development of American post-graduate university life, the rapid advance of genuine American scholarship, the incomparable progress of the scientific institutions of the New World, of their libraries and laboratories, museums and associations, was well aware that Europe had hardly noticed and certainly not fully understood the gigantic strides of the country which seemed a rival only on commercial and industrial ground. Europe was satisfied with the traditional ideas of America's scientific standing which reflected the situation of thirty years ago, and did not understand that the changes of a few lustres mean in the New World more than under the firmer traditions of Europe. American scientific literature was still neglected; American universities treated in a condescending and patronizing spirit and with hardly any awareness of the fundamental differences in the institutions of the two sides. Those European scholars who crossed the ocean did it with missionary, or perhaps with less unselfish, intentions, and the Americans who attended European congresses were mostly treated with the friendliness which the self-satisfied teacher shows to a promising pupil. The time had really come when the contrast between the real situation and the traditional construction became a danger for the scientific life of the time. Both sides had to suffer from it. The Americans felt that their serious and important achievements did not come to their fullest effectiveness through the insistent neglect of those who by the tradition of centuries had become the habitual guardians of scientific thought. A kind of feeling of dependency as it usually develops in weak colonies too often depressed the conscientious scholarship on American soil as the result of this undue condescension. Yet the greater harm was to the other side. Once before Europe had had the experience of surprise when American successes presented themselves where nothing of that kind was anticipated in the Old World. It was in the field of economic life that Europe looked down patronizingly on America's industrial efforts, and yet before she was fully aware how the change resulted, suddenly the warning signal of the "American danger" was heard everywhere. The surprise in the intellectual field will not be less. The unpreparedness was certainly the same. Of course, there cannot be any danger of rivalry in the scientific field, inasmuch as science knows no competition but only coöperation. And yet it cannot be without danger for European science if it willfully neglects and recklessly ignores this eager working of the modern America. For both sides a change in the situation was thus not only desirable, but necessary; and to prepare this change, to substitute knowledge for ignorance, nothing could have been more effective than this Congress of Arts and Science.

Even if we abstract from the not inconsiderable number of those European scholars who followed naturally in the path of the invited guests, and if we consider merely the function of these invited participants, the importance of the procedure is evident. More than a hundred leading scholars from all European countries came under conditions where academic fellowship on an equal footing was a necessary part of the work. There was not the slightest premium held out which might have attracted them had not real inter-academic interest brought them over the ocean, and no missionary spirit was appealed to, as everything was equally divided between American and foreign contributors. It was a real feast of international scholarship, in which the importance and the number of foreigners stamped it as the first significant alliance of the spirit of learning in the New and the Old Worlds. And it was essentially for this purpose that the week of personal intermingling in St. Louis itself was preceded and followed by happy weeks of visits to leading universities. Almost every one of those one hundred European scholars visited Harvard and Yale, Chicago and Johns Hopkins, Columbia and Pennsylvania, saw the treasures of Washington and examined the exhibitions of American scholarship in the World's Fair itself. The change of opinion, the disappearance of prejudice, the growth of confidence, the personal intercollegiate ties which resulted from all that, have been evident since those days all over Europe. And it is not surprising that it is just the most famous and most important of the visitors, famous and important through their width and depth of view, whose expression of appreciation and admiration for the new achievements has been loudest.

We insisted that the effectiveness of the Congress showed itself in two other directions still: on the one side, there was at last a congress with a unified programme, a congress which stood for a definite thought, and which brought all its efforts to bear on the solution of one problem. There seemed a far-reaching agreement of opinion that this new principle of congress administration had successfully withstood the test of practical realization. Mere conglomerations of unconnected meetings with casual programmes and unrelated papers cannot claim any longer to represent the only possible form of international gatherings of scholars. More than that, their superfluous and disheartening character will be felt in future more strongly than before. No congress will appear fully justified whose printed proceedings do not show a real plan in its programme. And the consciousness of this mission of the Congress will certainly be again reinforced by the publication of these volumes, inasmuch as it is evident that they represent a substantial contribution to the knowledge of our time which would not have been made without the special stimulating occasion of the Congress.

And, finally, whether such a congress is held again or not, the impulse of this one cannot be lost on account of the special end to which all its efforts have been directed: the unity of scientific knowledge. We had emphasized from the first that here was the centre of our purposes in a time whose scientific specialization necessarily involves a scattering of scholarly work and which yet in its deepest meaning strives for a new synthesis, for a new unity, which is to give to all this scattered labor a real dignity and significance; truly nothing was more needed than an intense accentuation of the internal harmony of all human knowledge. But for that it is not enough that the masses feel instinctively the deep need of such unifying movements, nor is it enough that the philosophers point with logical arguments towards the new synthesis. The philosopher can only stand by and point the way; the specialists themselves must go the way. And here at last they have done so. Leaders of thought have interrupted their specialistic work and have left their detailed inquiries to seek the fundamental conceptions and methods and principles which bind all knowledge together, and thus to work towards that unity from which all special work derives its meaning. Whether or not their coöperation has produced anything which is final is a question almost insignificant compared with the fundamental fact that they coöperated at all for this ideal synthetic purpose. This fact can never lose its influence on the scholarly effort of our age, and will certainly find its strongest reinforcement in this unified publication. It has fulfilled its noblest purpose if it adds strength to the deepest movement of our time, the movement towards unity of meaning in the scattered manifoldness of scientific endeavor with which the twentieth century has opened.

Simon Newcomb, Ph.D., LL.D.

Dr. Newcomb, the famous Astronomer, is conceded to be the Dean of American scientists. His eminent services to the Government of the United States, and his recognized position in foreign and domestic scientific circles, made him peculiarly fitted to deliver the introductory address, and to officiate as President of an International Congress of the leading scientists of the world.

He has been the recipient of honorary degrees from six American and ten European Universities, and he is a member of almost every important Academy of Science in Europe and America. He is an officer of the Legion of Honour, and is the only native American besides Benjamin Franklin who has been elected an Associate of the Institute de France. From 1861 to 1897 he was Professor of Mathematics in the United States Navy. He also lectured on Mathematics and Astronomy at Johns Hopkins, and is now a Professor Emeritus in the Faculty of Arts of that university. Dr. Newcomb is the author of numerous works on Astronomy and other scientific subjects.

PROCEEDINGS OF THE CONGRESS

INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS

delivered at the opening exercises at festival hall by professor simon newcomb, president of the congress

THE EVOLUTION OF THE SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATOR

As we look at the assemblage gathered in this hall, comprising so many names of widest renown in every branch of learning,—we might almost say in every field of human endeavor,—the first inquiry suggested must be after the object of our meeting. The answer is, that our purpose corresponds to the eminence of the assemblage. We aim at nothing less than a survey of the realm of knowledge, as comprehensive as is permitted by the limitations of time and space. The organizers of our Congress have honored me with the charge of presenting such preliminary view of its field as may make clear the spirit of our undertaking.

Certain tendencies characteristic of the science of our day clearly suggest the direction of our thoughts most appropriate to the occasion. Among the strongest of these is one toward laying greater stress on questions of the beginning of things, and regarding a knowledge of the laws of development of any object of study as necessary to the understanding of its present form. It may be conceded that the principle here involved is as applicable in the broad field before us as in a special research into the properties of the minutest organism. It therefore seems meet that we should begin by inquiring what agency has brought about the remarkable development of science to which the world of to-day bears witness. This view is recognized in the plan of our proceedings, by providing for each great department of knowledge a review of its progress during the century that has elapsed since the great event commemorated by the scenes outside this hall. But such reviews do not make up that general survey of science at large which is necessary to the development of our theme, and which must include the action of causes that had their origin long before our time. The movement which culminated in making the nineteenth century ever memorable in history is the outcome of a long series of causes, acting through many centuries, which are worthy of especial attention on such an occasion as this. In setting them forth we should avoid laying stress on those visible manifestations which, striking the eye of every beholder, are in no danger of being overlooked, and search rather for those agencies whose activities underlie the whole visible scene, but which are liable to be blotted out of sight by the very brilliancy of the results to which they have given rise. It is easy to draw attention to the wonderful qualities of the oak; but from that very fact, it may be needful to point out that the real wonder lies concealed in the acorn from which it grew.

Our inquiry into the logical order of the causes which have made our civilization what it is to-day will be facilitated by bringing to mind certain elementary considerations—ideas so familiar that setting them forth may seem like citing a body of truisms—and yet so frequently overlooked, not only individually, but in their relation to each other, that the conclusion to which they lead may be lost to sight. One of these propositions is that psychical rather than material causes are those which we should regard as fundamental in directing the development of the social organism. The human intellect is the really active agent in every branch of endeavor,—the primum mobile of civilization,—and all those material manifestations to which our attention is so often directed are to be regarded as secondary to this first agency. If it be true that "in the world is nothing great but man; in man is nothing great but mind," then should the keynote of our discourse be the recognition of this first and greatest of powers.

Another well-known fact is that those applications of the forces of nature to the promotion of human welfare which have made our age what it is, are of such comparatively recent origin that we need go back only a single century to antedate their most important features, and scarcely more than four centuries to find their beginning. It follows that the subject of our inquiry should be the commencement, not many centuries ago, of a certain new form of intellectual activity.

Having gained this point of view, our next inquiry will be into the nature of that activity, and its relation to the stages of progress which preceded and followed its beginning. The superficial observer, who sees the oak but forgets the acorn, might tell us that the special qualities which have brought out such great results are expert scientific knowledge and rare ingenuity, directed to the application of the powers of steam and electricity. From this point of view the great inventors and the great captains of industry were the first agents in bringing about the modern era. But the more careful inquirer will see that the work of these men was possible only through a knowledge of the laws of nature, which had been gained by men whose work took precedence of theirs in logical order, and that success in invention has been measured by completeness in such knowledge. While giving all due honor to the great inventors, let us remember that the first place is that of the great investigators, whose forceful intellects opened the way to secrets previously hidden from men. Let it be an honor and not a reproach to these men, that they were not actuated by the love of gain, and did not keep utilitarian ends in view in the pursuit of their researches. If it seems that in neglecting such ends they were leaving undone the most important part of their work, let us remember that nature turns a forbidding face to those who pay her court with the hope of gain, and is responsive only to those suitors whose love for her is pure and undefiled. Not only is the special genius required in the investigator not that generally best adapted to applying the discoveries which he makes, but the result of his having sordid ends in view would be to narrow the field of his efforts, and exercise a depressing effect upon his activities. The true man of science has no such expression in his vocabulary as "useful knowledge." His domain is as wide as nature itself, and he best fulfills his mission when he leaves to others the task of applying the knowledge he gives to the world.

We have here the explanation of the well-known fact that the functions of the investigator of the laws of nature, and of the inventor who applies these laws to utilitarian purposes, are rarely united in the same person. If the one conspicuous exception which the past century presents to this rule is not unique, we should probably have to go back to Watt to find another.

From this viewpoint it is clear that the primary agent in the movement which has elevated man to the masterful position he now occupies, is the scientific investigator. He it is whose work has deprived plague and pestilence of their terrors, alleviated human suffering, girdled the earth with the electric wire, bound the continent with the iron way, and made neighbors of the most distant nations. As the first agent which has made possible this meeting of his representatives, let his evolution be this day our worthy theme. As we follow the evolution of an organism by studying the stages of its growth, so we have to show how the work of the scientific investigator is related to the ineffectual efforts of his predecessors.

In our time we think of the process of development in nature as one going continuously forward through the combination of the opposite processes of evolution and dissolution. The tendency of our thought has been in the direction of banishing cataclysms to the theological limbo, and viewing nature as a sleepless plodder, endowed with infinite patience, waiting through long ages for results. I do not contest the truth of the principle of continuity on which this view is based. But it fails to make known to us the whole truth. The building of a ship from the time that her keel is laid until she is making her way across the ocean is a slow and gradual process; yet there is a cataclysmic epoch opening up a new era in her history. It is the moment when, after lying for months or years a dead, inert, immovable mass, she is suddenly endowed with the power of motion, and, as if imbued with life, glides into the stream, eager to begin the career for which she was designed.

I think it is thus in the development of humanity. Long ages may pass during which a race, to all external observation, appears to be making no real progress. Additions may be made to learning, and the records of history may constantly grow, but there is nothing in its sphere of thought, or in the features of its life, that can be called essentially new. Yet, nature may have been all along slowly working in a way which evades our scrutiny until the result of her operations suddenly appears in a new and revolutionary movement, carrying the race to a higher plane of civilization.

It is not difficult to point out such epochs in human progress. The greatest of all, because it was the first, is one of which we find no record either in written or geological history. It was the epoch when our progenitors first took conscious thought of the morrow, first used the crude weapons which nature had placed within their reach to kill their prey, first built a fire to warm their bodies and cook their food. I love to fancy that there was some one first man, the Adam of evolution, who did all this, and who used the power thus acquired to show his fellows how they might profit by his example. When the members of the tribe or community which he gathered around him began to conceive of life as a whole,—to include yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow in the same mental grasp—to think how they might apply the gifts of nature to their own uses,—a movement was begun which should ultimately lead to civilization.

Long indeed must have been the ages required for the development of this rudest primitive community into the civilization revealed to us by the most ancient tablets of Egypt and Assyria. After spoken language was developed, and after the rude representation of ideas by visible marks drawn to resemble them had long been practiced, some Cadmus must have invented an alphabet. When the use of written language was thus introduced, the word of command ceased to be confined to the range of the human voice, and it became possible for master minds to extend their influence as far as a written message could be carried. Then were communities gathered into provinces; provinces into kingdoms; kingdoms into the great empires of antiquity. Then arose a stage of civilization which we find pictured in the most ancient records,—a stage in which men were governed by laws that were perhaps as wisely adapted to their conditions as our laws are to ours,—in which the phenomena of nature were rudely observed, and striking occurrences in the earth or in the heavens recorded in the annals of the nation.

Vast was the progress of knowledge during the interval between these empires and the century in which modern science began. Yet, if I am right in making a distinction between the slow and regular steps of progress, each growing naturally out of that which preceded it, and the entrance of the mind at some fairly definite epoch into an entirely new sphere of activity, it would appear that there was only one such epoch during the entire interval. This was when abstract geometrical reasoning commenced, and astronomical observations aiming at precision were recorded, compared, and discussed. Closely associated with it must have been the construction of the forms of logic. The radical difference between the demonstration of a theorem of geometry and the reasoning of every-day life which the masses of men must have practiced from the beginning, and which few even to-day ever get beyond, is so evident at a glance that I need not dwell upon it. The principal feature of this advance is that, by one of those antinomies of the human intellect of which examples are not wanting even in our own time, the development of abstract ideas preceded the concrete knowledge of natural phenomena. When we reflect that in the geometry of Euclid the science of space was brought to such logical perfection that even to-day its teachers are not agreed as to the practicability of any great improvement upon it, we cannot avoid the feeling that a very slight change in the direction of the intellectual activity of the Greeks would have led to the beginning of natural science. But it would seem that the very purity and perfection which was aimed at in their system of geometry stood in the way of any extension or application of its methods and spirit to the field of nature. One example of this is worthy of attention. In modern teaching the idea of magnitude as generated by motion is freely introduced. A line is described by a moving point; a plane by a moving line; a solid by a moving plane. It may, at first sight, seem singular that this conception finds no place in the Euclidian system. But we may regard the omission as a mark of logical purity and rigor. Had the real or supposed advantages of introducing motion into geometrical conceptions been suggested to Euclid, we may suppose him to have replied that the theorems of space are independent of time; that the idea of motion necessarily implies time, and that, in consequence, to avail ourselves of it would be to introduce an extraneous element into geometry.

It is quite possible that the contempt of the ancient philosophers for the practical application of their science, which has continued in some form to our own time, and which is not altogether unwholesome, was a powerful factor in the same direction. The result was that, in keeping geometry pure from ideas which did not belong to it, it failed to form what might otherwise have been the basis of physical science. Its founders missed the discovery that methods similar to those of geometric demonstration could be extended into other and wider fields than that of space. Thus not only the development of applied geometry, but the reduction of other conceptions to a rigorous mathematical form was indefinitely postponed.

Astronomy is necessarily a science of observation pure and simple, in which experiment can have no place except as an auxiliary. The vague accounts of striking celestial phenomena handed down by the priests and astrologers of antiquity were followed in the time of the Greeks by observations having, in form at least, a rude approach to precision, though nothing like the degree of precision that the astronomer of to-day would reach with the naked eye, aided by such instruments as he could fashion from the tools at the command of the ancients.

The rude observations commenced by the Babylonians were continued with gradually improving instruments,—first by the Greeks and afterward by the Arabs,—but the results failed to afford any insight into the true relation of the earth to the heavens. What was most remarkable in this failure is that, to take a first step forward which would have led on to success, no more was necessary than a course of abstract thinking vastly easier than that required for working out the problems of geometry. That space is infinite is an unexpressed axiom, tacitly assumed by Euclid and his successors. Combining this with the most elementary consideration of the properties of the triangle, it would be seen that a body of any given size could be placed at such a distance in space as to appear to us like a point. Hence a body as large as our earth, which was known to be a globe from the time that the ancient Phœnicians navigated the Mediterranean, if placed in the heavens at a sufficient distance, would look like a star. The obvious conclusion that the stars might be bodies like our globe, shining either by their own light or by that of the sun, would have been a first step to the understanding of the true system of the world.

There is historic evidence that this deduction did not wholly escape the Greek thinkers. It is true that the critical student will assign little weight to the current belief that the vague theory of Pythagoras—that fire was at the centre of all things—implies a conception of the heliocentric theory of the solar system. But the testimony of Archimedes, confused though it is in form, leaves no serious doubt that Aristarchus of Samos not only propounded the view that the earth revolves both on its own axis and around the sun, but that he correctly removed the great stumbling-block in the way of this theory by adding that the distance of the fixed stars was infinitely greater than the dimensions of the earth's orbit. Even the world of philosophy was not yet ready for this conception, and, so far from seeing the reasonableness of the explanation, we find Ptolemy arguing against the rotation of the earth on grounds which careful observations of the phenomena around him would have shown to be ill-founded.

Physical science, if we can apply that term to an uncoördinated body of facts, was successfully cultivated from the earliest times. Something must have been known of the properties of metals, and the art of extracting them from their ores must have been practiced, from the time that coins and medals were first stamped. The properties of the most common compounds were discovered by alchemists in their vain search for the philosopher's stone, but no actual progress worthy of the name rewarded the practitioners of the black art.

Perhaps the first approach to a correct method was that of Archimedes, who by much thinking worked out the law of the lever, reached the conception of the centre of gravity, and demonstrated the first principles of hydrostatics. It is remarkable that he did not extend his researches into the phenomena of motion, whether spontaneous or produced by force. The stationary condition of the human intellect is most strikingly illustrated by the fact that not until the time of Leonardo was any substantial advance made on his discovery. To sum up in one sentence the most characteristic feature of ancient and medieval science, we see a notable contrast between the precision of thought implied in the construction and demonstration of geometrical theorems and the vague indefinite character of the ideas of natural phenomena generally, a contrast which did not disappear until the foundations of modern science began to be laid.

We should miss the most essential point of the difference between medieval and modern learning if we looked upon it as mainly a difference either in the precision or the amount of knowledge. The development of both of these qualities would, under any circumstances, have been slow and gradual, but sure. We can hardly suppose that any one generation, or even any one century, would have seen the complete substitution of exact for inexact ideas. Slowness of growth is as inevitable in the case of knowledge as in that of a growing organism. The most essential point of difference is one of those seemingly slight ones, the importance of which we are too apt to overlook. It was like the drop of blood in the wrong place, which some one has told us makes all the difference between a philosopher and a maniac. It was all the difference between a living tree and a dead one, between an inert mass and a growing organism. The transition of knowledge from the dead to the living form must, in any complete review of the subject, be looked upon as the really great event of modern times. Before this event the intellect was bound down by a scholasticism which regarded knowledge as a rounded whole, the parts of which were written in books and carried in the minds of learned men. The student was taught from the beginning of his work to look upon authority as the foundation of his beliefs. The older the authority the greater the weight it carried. So effective was this teaching that it seems never to have occurred to individual men that they had all the opportunities ever enjoyed by Aristotle of discovering truth, with the added advantage of all his knowledge to begin with. Advanced as was the development of formal logic, that practical logic was wanting which could see that the last of a series of authorities, every one of which rested on those which preceded it, could never form a surer foundation for any doctrine than that supplied by its original propounder.

The result of this view of knowledge was that, although during the fifteen centuries following the death of the geometer of Syracuse great universities were founded at which generations of professors expounded all the learning of their time, neither professor nor student ever suspected what latent possibilities of good were concealed in the most familiar operations of nature. Every one felt the wind blow, saw water boil, and heard the thunder crash, but never thought of investigating the forces here at play. Up to the middle of the fifteenth century the most acute observer could scarcely have seen the dawn of a new era.

In view of this state of things, it must be regarded as one of the most remarkable facts in evolutionary history that four or five men, whose mental constitution was either typical of the new order of things or who were powerful agents in bringing it about, were all born during the fifteenth century, four of them at least at so nearly the same time as to be contemporaries.

Leonardo da Vinci, whose artistic genius has charmed succeeding generations, was also the first practical engineer of his time, and the first man after Archimedes to make a substantial advance in developing the laws of motion. That the world was not prepared to make use of his scientific discoveries does not detract from the significance which must attach to the period of his birth.

Shortly after him was born the great navigator whose bold spirit was to make known a new world, thus giving to commercial enterprise that impetus which was so powerful an agent in bringing about a revolution in the thoughts of men.

The birth of Columbus was soon followed by that of Copernicus, the first after Aristarchus to demonstrate the true system of the world. In him more than in any of his contemporaries do we see the struggle between the old forms of thought and the new. It seems almost pathetic and is certainly most suggestive of the general view of knowledge taken at that time that, instead of claiming credit for bringing to light great truths before unknown, he made a labored attempt to show that, after all, there was nothing really new in his system, which he claimed to date from Pythagoras and Philolaus. In this connection it is curious that he makes no mention of Aristarchus, who I think will be regarded by conservative historians as his only demonstrated predecessor. To the hold of the older ideas upon his mind we must attribute the fact that in constructing his system he took great pains to make as little change as possible in ancient conceptions.

Luther, the greatest thought-stirrer of them all, practically of the same generation with Copernicus, Leonardo, and Columbus, does not come in as a scientific investigator, but as the great loosener of chains which had so fettered the intellect of men that they dared not think otherwise than as the authorities thought.

Almost coeval with the advent of these intellects was the invention of printing with movable type. Gutenberg was born during the first decade of the century, and his associates and others credited with the invention not many years afterward. If we accept the principle on which I am basing my argument, that we should assign the first place to the birth of those psychic agencies which started men on new lines of thought, then surely was the fifteenth the wonderful century.

Let us not forget that, in assigning the actors then born to their places, we are not narrating history, but studying a special phase of evolution. It matters not for us that no university invited Leonardo to its halls, and that his science was valued by his contemporaries only as an adjunct to the art of engineering. The great fact still is that he was the first of mankind to propound laws of motion. It is not for anything in Luther's doctrines that he finds a place in our scheme. No matter for us whether they were sound or not. What he did toward the evolution of the scientific investigator was to show by his example that a man might question the best-established and most venerable authority and still live—still preserve his intellectual integrity—still command a hearing from nations and their rulers. It matters not for us whether Columbus ever knew that he had discovered a new continent. His work was to teach that neither hydra, chimera, nor abyss—neither divine injunction nor infernal machination—was in the way of men visiting every part of the globe, and that the problem of conquering the world reduced itself to one of sails and rigging, hull and compass. The better part of Copernicus was to direct man to a viewpoint whence he should see that the heavens were of like matter with the earth. All this done, the acorn was planted from which the oak of our civilization should spring. The mad quest for gold which followed the discovery of Columbus, the questionings which absorbed the attention of the learned, the indignation excited by the seeming vagaries of a Paracelsus, the fear and trembling lest the strange doctrine of Copernicus should undermine the faith of centuries, were all helps to the germination of the seed—stimuli to thought which urged it on to explore the new fields opened up to its occupation. This given, all that has since followed came out in regular order of development, and need be here considered only in those phases having a special relation to the purpose of our present meeting.

So slow was the growth at first that the sixteenth century may scarcely have recognized the inauguration of a new era. Torricelli and Benedetti were of the third generation after Leonardo, and Galileo, the first to make a substantial advance upon his theory, was born more than a century after him. Only two or three men appeared in a generation who, working alone, could make real progress in discovery, and even these could do little in leavening the minds of their fellow men with the new ideas.

Up to the middle of the seventeenth century an agent which all experience since that time shows to be necessary to the most productive intellectual activity was wanting. This was the attraction of like minds, making suggestions to each other, criticising, comparing, and reasoning. This element was introduced by the organization of the Royal Society of London and the Academy of Sciences of Paris.

The members of these two bodies seem like ingenious youth suddenly thrown into a new world of interesting objects, the purposes and relations of which they had to discover. The novelty of the situation is strikingly shown in the questions which occupied the minds of the incipient investigators. One natural result of British maritime enterprise was that the aspirations of the Fellows of the Royal Society were not confined to any continent or hemisphere. Inquiries were sent all the way to Batavia to know "whether there be a hill in Sumatra which burneth continually, and a fountain which runneth pure balsam." The astronomical precision with which it seemed possible that physiological operations might go on was evinced by the inquiry whether the Indians can so prepare that stupefying herb Datura that "they make it lie several days, months, years, according as they will, in a man's body without doing him any harm, and at the end kill him without missing an hour's time." Of this continent one of the inquiries was whether there be a tree in Mexico that yields water, wine, vinegar, milk, honey, wax, thread, and needles.

Among the problems before the Paris Academy of Sciences those of physiology and biology took a prominent place. The distillation of compounds had long been practiced, and the fact that the more spirituous elements of certain substances were thus separated naturally led to the question whether the essential essences of life might not be discoverable in the same way. In order that all might participate in the experiments, they were conducted in open session of the Academy, thus guarding against the danger of any one member obtaining for his exclusive personal use a possible elixir of life. A wide range of the animal and vegetable kingdom, including cats, dogs, and birds of various species, were thus analyzed. The practice of dissection was introduced on a large scale. That of the cadaver of an elephant occupied several sessions, and was of such interest that the monarch himself was a spectator.

To the same epoch with the formation and first work of these two bodies belongs the invention of a mathematical method which in its importance to the advance of exact science may be classed with the invention of the alphabet in its relation to the progress of society at large. The use of algebraic symbols to represent quantities had its origin before the commencement of the new era, and gradually grew into a highly developed form during the first two centuries of that era. But this method could represent quantities only as fixed. It is true that the elasticity inherent in the use of such symbols permitted of their being applied to any and every quantity; yet, in any one application, the quantity was considered as fixed and definite. But most of the magnitudes of nature are in a state of continual variation; indeed, since all motion is variation, the latter is a universal characteristic of all phenomena. No serious advance could be made in the application of algebraic language to the expression of physical phenomena until it could be so extended as to express variation in quantities, as well as the quantities themselves. This extension, worked out independently by Newton and Leibnitz, may be classed as the most fruitful of conceptions in exact science. With it the way was opened for the unimpeded and continually accelerated progress of the last two centuries.

The feature of this period which has the closest relation to the purpose of our coming together is the seemingly unending subdivision of knowledge into specialties, many of which are becoming so minute and so isolated that they seem to have no interest for any but their few pursuers. Happily science itself has afforded a corrective for its own tendency in this direction. The careful thinker will see that in these seemingly diverging branches common elements and common principles are coming more and more to light. There is an increasing recognition of methods of research, and of deduction, which are common to large branches, or to the whole of science. We are more and more recognizing the principle that progress in knowledge implies its reduction to more exact forms, and the expression of its ideas in language more or less mathematical. The problem before the organizers of this Congress was, therefore, to bring the sciences together, and seek for the unity which we believe underlies their infinite diversity.

The assembling of such a body as now fills this hall was scarcely possible in any preceding generation, and is made possible now only through the agency of science itself. It differs from all preceding international meetings by the universality of its scope, which aims to include the whole of knowledge. It is also unique in that none but leaders have been sought out as members. It is unique in that so many lands have delegated their choicest intellects to carry on its work. They come from the country to which our republic is indebted for a third of its territory, including the ground on which we stand; from the land which has taught us that the most scholarly devotion to the languages and learning of the cloistered past is compatible with leadership in the practical application of modern science to the arts of life; from the island whose language and literature have found a new field and a vigorous growth in this region; from the last seat of the holy Roman Empire; from the country which, remembering a monarch who made an astronomical observation at the Greenwich Observatory, has enthroned science in one of the highest places in its government; from the peninsula so learned that we have invited one of its scholars to come and tell us of our own language; from the land which gave birth to Leonardo, Galileo, Torricelli, Columbus, Volta—what an array of immortal names!—from the little republic of glorious history which, breeding men rugged as its eternal snow-peaks, has yet been the seat of scientific investigation since the day of the Bernoullis; from the land whose heroic dwellers did not hesitate to use the ocean itself to protect it against invaders, and which now makes us marvel at the amount of erudition compressed within its little area; from the nation across the Pacific, which, by half a century of unequaled progress in the arts of life, has made an important contribution to evolutionary science through demonstrating the falsity of the theory that the most ancient races are doomed to be left in the rear of the advancing age—in a word, from every great centre of intellectual activity on the globe I see before me eminent representatives of that world-advance in knowledge which we have met to celebrate. May we not confidently hope that the discussions of such an assemblage will prove pregnant of a future for science which shall outshine even its brilliant past?

Gentlemen and scholars all! You do not visit our shores to find great collections in which centuries of humanity have given expression on canvas and in marble to their hopes, fears, and aspirations. Nor do you expect institutions and buildings hoary with age. But as you feel the vigor latent in the fresh air of these expansive prairies, which has collected the products of human genius by which we are here surrounded, and, I may add, brought us together; as you study the institutions which we have founded for the benefit, not only of our own people, but of humanity at large; as you meet the men who, in the short space of one century, have transformed this valley from a savage wilderness into what it is to-day—then may you find compensation for the want of a past like yours by seeing with prophetic eye a future world-power of which this region shall be the seat. If such is to be the outcome of the institutions which we are now building up, then may your present visit be a blessing both to your posterity and ours by making that power one for good to all mankind. Your deliberations will help to demonstrate to us and to the world at large that the reign of law must supplant that of brute force in the relations of the nations, just as it has supplanted it in the relations of individuals. You will help to show that the war which science is now waging against the sources of diseases, pain, and misery offers an even nobler field for the exercise of heroic qualities than can that of battle. We hope that when, after your all too fleeting sojourn in our midst, you return to your own shores, you will long feel the influence of the new air you have breathed in an infusion of increased vigor in pursuing your varied labors. And if a new impetus is thus given to the great intellectual movement of the past century, resulting not only in promoting the unification of knowledge, but in widening its field through new combinations of effort on the part of its votaries, the projectors, organizers, and supporters of this Congress of Arts and Science will be justified of their labors.