Age after age, and often from the depths of human nature, the question has arisen whether there is some transcendental Purpose in the making of the world. Is there some recondite meaning in it all, and if so, can we get any glimpse of what it is? More especially, is it legitimate to say that Nature is Nature for a Purpose? Was there a Purpose, or something dimly analogous to a Purpose, in the origination of the process of Evolution? Is Evolution permeated by or immediately controlled by Purpose? Or does it simply express a purpose which determined its direction from the first? We know a little about the tactics of Evolution, but is there a strategy? If not, why are we always groping after it?

Contacts between Italian and English thought of late years have been both frequent and effective.

All candid philosophers, in setting out on their great task of coordinating and criticizing the whole range of human thought, must often feel embarrassed by the limitations of their own knowledge. Their difficulties in dealing with scientific thought have increased very greatly during the last thirty years. For, while science has been rapidly growing more complex and abstruse, philosophers have been tending to require a more intimate knowledge of it. They are no longer interested only in scientific methods (which, it is often assumed, can be studied apart from their applications); they are beginning to find significance in particular propositions and principles. Some of these cannot be comprehended in their entirety by anyone who has not submitted himself to a training so specialized and so severe as to be almost incompatible with the width of outlook that makes the philosopher. Accordingly, philosophers have abandoned all attempts to acquire their knowledge of certain branches of science (particularly physics) from the original memoirs and expository treatises addressed to scientists; they have recourse to interpreters.

I wish to discuss the nature and the relation to one another of two kinds of mental activity, and I can most clearly indicate what they are if I take some illustrations from familiar experience.

The two basic forms of action distinguished in the preceding articles, viz., moral action, where praxis is for praxis sake, and action for a good, where praxis is for the sake of theôria, are found in close relationship to one another in human life. The part they play is rather that of abstract moments in a practical process than that of self-contained and isolable bits of conduct. No philosopher is likely to discount the importance of thus analysing the concrete into its factors before he rectifies the abstraction by showing how they co-operate in actual experience. In any individual biography we can find acts and courses of action in which duty is the dominant motive, and others in which the dominant motive is desire of good. Similarly, when we compare different biographies with one another, some exemplify most strikingly the struggle for righteousness against unruly passion, others the spontaneous aspiration of the soul to attain the goal of its desire. But neither the moral law nor the summum bonum wields an exclusive sovereignty. St. Paul and Luther, in their warfare against carnal desire, drew strength from the ideal vision; nor were St. Bernard or Spinoza, for all their absorption upon union with the divine, strangers to the call of moral obligation. In the lives of ordinary men, the types of conduct are, perhaps, more evenly balanced; yet here also the distinction is discernible. Moreover, it is easy to see how, despite their intrinsic difference, they come to be associated and “by just exchange” to effect a mutual enrichment.

In any consideration of the nature of suggestion we cannot omit reference to the extraordinary and startling phenomena which may sometimes be observed in hypnotized subjects. But it would be a mistake to look upon hypnosis as something uncanny, mysterious, and occult. Although we have even yet no thoroughly satisfactory theory of hypnosis, we understand it in general terms, and can bring it into line with other facts and phenomena of psychology known in everyday life. The hypnotic subject, and the phenomena of hypnosis, can be explained firstly in terms of mental dissociation, of the tendency for certain forms of psychical activity to occur independently of the rest of the mind, independently of other considerations; and, secondly, in terms of suggestion, of increased suggestibility. And these two, the phenomenon of dissociation and the phenomenon of suggestibility, are not unrelated to one another. They are related, but not to the extent of being identical with one another. It was the Nancy School of Hypnotism, led by Bernheim, who considered that hypnosis could be explained in terms of suggestibility.