My object in these lectures is to show that Science is a form of Art, though not of fine art; in other words, that it is one example of a process of which fine art is the most obvious example, the process of making out of certain materials a result into which the mind itself enters. Clearly enough the material of the artist, whatever it be, marble or paints or tones or words, is moulded by the artist into a shape which it would not possess unless something in the artist’s mind found expression in it. Science also is a product of the mind’s interference and is artificial. But it differs from fine art, I shall try to show, in this respect: in fine art the material is controlled from the mind, or at least it is principally controlled from the mind. In science the material is the facts of nature (including of course the mind itself as a natural object); but while science would not be except for the mind of the scientist, the work is controlled from the side of the material itself, and his mind is instrumental to the product rather than in some sense intrinsic to it as in fine art.

There is at the present time a bewildering variety of schools of psychology in open rivalry and conflict with one another. The Press and the general public, in America, at least, seem to be aware of only two of these, namely the psychoanalytic and the behaviouristic schools; and the newspaper writers and the average highbrow are content to mix snippets and catchwords from these two utterly different schools, ignoring all the rest, unless they add to their shop-window display some uncertain reference to the work of the mental testers.

With the progress of science we become more and more aware of the undiscovered, and of our feebleness to visualize or express what is dimly known to us. Geologists estimate that man evolved some 1,000,000 years ago on an earth which astronomers say is some 2,000,000,000 years old. Caution is required in accepting such figures, for we must remember how far out Lord Kelvin was in estimating the age of the earth—before the discovery of radium. Man has been civilized for some 5,000 years, and Galileo, with his telescope and revolutionary ideas, lived some 300 years ago. There may be, we are told, a million million years before the sun grows weak and the earth becomes farther from the sun so that all life freezes. Long before this man may use up the metals available for his machines, and those ready sources of energy now so wastefully used, by which he at present multiplies and swarms in cities. In such case he will return through birth control or famine, or both, to a simple, uncrowded, pastoral existence. There is little likelihood of his being able to use atomic energy, other than that which reaches the earth as sun radiation and is available directly or as energy stored in water-power, wood, coal, and oil.

The tomb of the ancient Pharaoh, Tut-ankh-Amen, was opened some years ago. Lord Carnarvon, who financed the investigations, died shortly after the opening. Lord Westbury fell to his death from the high window of a London flat on February 21, 1930. His son, the Hon. Richard Bethell, had been found dead in his room the previous November. He was secretary to Mr. Howard Carter, one discoverer of Tut-ankh-Amen’s tomb. Many persons who had been connected with the excavations had died previously—M. Benedite, for example, died after participating in the research, and Mrs. Greely committed suicide after visiting the tomb. The Hon. Richard Bethell was the thirteenth person connected with Tut-ankh-Amen's tomb, directly or indirectly, to die, and his father, Lord Westbury, was the fourteenth. The death of Lord Carnarvon, a few weeks after the tomb was opened, stirred the notion that a curse had been placed on the mummy of the Pharaoh, or in his tomb, to menace violators. Succeeding deaths kept the notion alive, and the thirteenth death, of the Hon. Richard Bethell, wrung an opinion from Dr. Mardus, the eminent French Egyptologist. He was convinced that the ancient Egyptians could surround “their mummies with some dynamic force.” Such a force lurked in the tomb of Tut-ankh-Amen. Its nature was unknown, but it had manifested itself in the series of deaths.

The classical and scholastic view of things was of neutral substance to which qualities were attached as substantial adjuncts. Qualities could apparently not be conceived of otherwise than as entities: blueness, hardness, pliability, toughness, translucency, and so on. Noun substantives were the part of speech by which they could most properly be referred to. The use of adjectives did not imply that these qualities were not substantival entities, but emphasized their subordinateness to the thing itself, and were useful in giving pliability, lightness, and elegance to speech. But qualities could not be conceived of otherwise than as something superadded to the neutral substance which carried them.

I do not propose in this paper to discuss what is the nature of the Good. Although the content of morality and the sanction for morality are closely connected, and it may be argued with much force that it is not practicable to deal with them separately, limits must be set to any one discussion. I would propose, therefore, not to embark upon the general question—what conduct is right and what is wrong; but, assuming that there is right and wrong, to consider why we should pursue the one and avoid the other.

We have been led by our preliminary survey to acknowledge the autonomy of the moral life. The Tightness of an action is something that is sui generis and ultimate. It is vain to seek a reason for the rightness other than the Tightness itself. To the question, “Why ought I to do what I ought?” the only answer is, “Because I ought to do it.” 1 It is with rightness as with truth: Vera idea est norma sui et falsi. In any moral situation, we intuitively judge what it is right to do, and in judging recognize that the obligation to do it is unconditional. That we possess this capacity is what is meant by saying that we are moral beings.

The source and inspiration of French “eclecticism” in the first half of last century was historical; its immediate purpose, the reconstitution of philosophical doctrines of the past; its riper though remoter effects, the formation of a tradition which insisted on reinterpretation as an indispensable preliminary to further construction. And it is largely a result of this that we to-day find commonplace the declaration: “A peculiarity of systems that are epoch-making is that their influence should extend beyond their own generation, and that they should prepare, as it were in secret, the thought that is to come.” So far as fuller and comparative scholarship have been applied to the elucidation of Cartesian philosophy and science, the results appear to fall into three groups. First, largely a result of the impetus of Cousin's teaching at the École Normale, there is the ample story of the development and modifications of Cartesianism in Bouillier's Histoire, and the Cartésianisme of Bordas-Demoulin. Later in the century, after the reaction against Cousin, come the invaluable study of Liard, insisting on the greater importance of Descartes' methodology and physics and the priority of the latter over his metaphysics, and the elegant monograph of Fouillee stressing the “voluntarist” tendencies in Descartes.

This survey deals with (i) Contemporary [German] Philosophy, vol. vii, by several contributors; (ii) The Machine-Theory of Life, by Julius Schultz; (iii) Bernard Bolzano, by Heinrich Fels; (iv) The Theory of Classes, by Adolf Fraenkel; (v) An Abstract of Logistic, by Rudolf Carnap.