This book is an exposition of monism, the philosophic theory that asserts the identical nature of mind and matter, as distinct from the dualistic "superstition"—as our author terms it—of matter and spirit. Sir Oliver Lodge, in a recent article, claims that three fundamental things are required to explain our universe: viz., Mind, with its rudiment Life; Matter, with its element the electric charge; and Ether, with its fundamental properties equivalent to elasticity and inertia. Mr. Elliot will have none of this. For him there is no reason to postulate other things than those capable of investigation by physical science—the ether and matter are essentially of the same kind, while all the phenomena of life are, if not at present explained on a physico-chemical basis, yet ultimately explicable in terms of the exact sciences. Life is a name for certain properties of protoplasm, and the chemical reactions of life are more complicated, but not more mysterious, than those of the laboratory. As for "ghosts, gods, souls, et hoc genus omne," our author holds that "these have long been rejected from the belief of most advanced thinkers." He traverses the assertion of Professors Mach and Karl Pearson, that while science can explain "how" things occur it cannot explain "why" (the point under discussion depends, of course, on Mr. Elliot's interpretations of the words), he pours scorn upon Herbert Spencer, Bergson, and all the vitalists. Altogether the book is one of the most pugnacious defences of monism which we have read, and will delight the bitter opponents of all spiritualistic philosophies. At the same time the author maintains that his philosophy is not materialistic, in the ordinary sense, but a form of idealism, and this, of course, is true, in a way, of any form of monism, it being possible either to say that the atom of matter is as full of mystery as life, or that life is as full of mechanism as the atom. It is obviously impossible in the limited space at our disposal to criticise the arguments put forward on a subject so complicated and controversial, but we think that nobody will admit Mr. Elliot to be as unbiassed as he appears to consider himself, judging by his remarks on the bias of the vitalists. His claim for the support of the physiologists reminds us that Dr. J. S. Haldane recently opened a discussion on the question, "Are Physical, Biological and Physiological Categories Irreducible?" by a pronouncement in the affirmative; the physicists also are not all monists. The question is more two-sided than our author will admit. His science is unfortunately by no means beyond reproach: to say that the charge on the electron is "inconceivably immense" is either extraordinary inaccuracy of phrase or extraordinary error, while to state that the electron has weight is to assert something of which we have no experimental evidence. That light is a vibrating motion of the same character as sound is incorrect, and such instances can be multiplied. These things are not of fundamental importance to Mr. Elliot's argument, but they show, to say the least, a deplorable looseness of expression. Nevertheless, the book is worth reading to all interested, either as friends or enemies, in the monistic philosophy, and may lead some of those who talk so freely of souls and mind to be a little more precise as to what they mean by these terms.
ACCOUNTS RENDERED OF WORK DONE AND THINGS SEEN. By J. Y. Buchanan. Cambridge University Press. 21s. net.
Selections from the papers of the author have already appeared under the titles of Scientific Papers (Oceanographical) and Comptes Rendus of Observation and Reasoning. This third volume, with an English modification of the title of the latter work, continues the plan of that book. The papers are very varied in character, including chemical studies, accounts of physical determinations, addresses on geography and oceanography, more technical geographical writings, and short articles on topics of general interest, reprinted from Nature, the Times, and other periodicals. Many of the latter recall events of our generation important, but already half forgotten, such as the stranding of the Sultan and the wreck of Santos Dumont 6. An excellent feature of the author's Comptes Rendus was the detailed summary, with page references, provided for every article, and the same plan is followed in this work. The author's work on oceanography is too well known to need commendation—he was chemist and physicist to the Challenger expedition. His "Retrospect," the second article in the book, gives a fascinating summary of the work done on that expedition, and the other papers on oceanographical subjects are of great general interest, and incidentally recall the great services of the Prince of Monaco to that science. His general outlook, which lends such freshness to all his writings, cannot be better expressed than in his own words in a former book: "It was conveyed to me through an old friend and former colleague that this contribution
... had done much to retard the standardisation of research. I took it as a compliment.
To standardise research is to limit its freedom and to impede discovery. Originality and independence are the characteristics of genuine research, and it is stultified by the acceptance of standards and by the recognition of authority."
It throws much light on the recent increase in the expenses of publishing that, whereas the Comptes Rendus was published in 1917 at 7s. 6d., the present volume of similar size and form is published at 21s.
BOOK-PRODUCTION NOTES
By J. H. MASON
THE Studio special number, "Modern Woodcuts and Lithographs, by British and French Artists," with Commentary by M. C. Salaman, is the first collection, with any claim to comprehensiveness, of the artistic work of the present renaissance of the woodcut. The woodcut has a twofold employment: it may be used for pictorial broadsides or for book illustration. It concerns us here as a means—I wonder if I ought not to write the means?—of book illustration. Notwithstanding the great technical advances made in line and half-tone photo-process engraving, there is a tendency to return to the use of the woodcut for certain kinds of catalogue illustrations, and, to a still greater extent, for book illustration and decoration.
The half-tone process involves the use of so-called "art" paper, i.e., a wood pulp or grass pulp paper as a centre, coated over with kaolin or china clay, with a high finish, the glazed polish of which reflects the light very unpleasantly. This objectionable paper, apart from the incongruity of wash drawings or photographs with typography, relegates this method of book illustration to utilitarian ends. The line process is far preferable for book illustration, but in itself it has no pleasant quality, usually very much the reverse, and pen drawings are no more directly suitable for book illustration than pen lettering is for use with type. The woodcut modifies the character of the drawing with a discipline which produces a character more in sympathy with that which type has acquired at the hands of the punch-cutter and type-founder in its passage from writing; and the same discipline modifies the artist's vision as well as the drawing. Material, too, has its own character, and when the user is not too clever this character becomes active in the work, not merely passive. The wood block itself can contribute a valuable quality, and either the knife or the graver is a responsive tool. The corresponding elements in line process work are the zinc plate and etching acid, and they do contribute something of their quality to the work; but it is not an attractive quality.