Though I have been a member of this Institute, I think from its foundation, I have been a steadily inactive member, and have resisted with what grace I could the blandishments of our Secretary when he has suggested that I should address my fellow-members. For I am not a philosopher, either by training or, I fear, by instinct; and, now that I have allowed myself to be inveigled into this place, I feel that I am brawling in church. I am the most ill-informed of laymen, and, if you feel any interest at all in what I am about to say, it will, I fear, only be the rueful interest that the expert sometimes takes in an exhibition of ignorance.

In American philosophy at the end of the nineteenth century there was small interest in Empiricism and almost no interest in Realism.

Anyone who thinks, for example, of “realism,” “sur-realism,” and the like in matters of art, or of the vulgar and journalistic vagueness in the use of the adjective “realistic,” may be prepared for the discovery that in philosophy also the term “realist” is either uncomfortably fluid or else acquires technical senses that are rather easily blurred. Our lexicographers tell us that, in its most general sense, “realism” indicates fidelity to what is real, particularly in the representation of (usually sordid) matters of fact, and that in philosophy it is an antithetic term, asserting the contrary either of

Professor Kemp Smith in providing a new edition of Hume’s Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, embodying all the author’s additions and corrections, has given expression to the perennial interest and fascination which this work has possessed for many minds during the odd one hundred and fifty years since it was first published by Hume’s nephew. The editor himself has performed a great service by contributing an Introduction and a clear and concise summary of the Dialogues, in both of which he expounds his own view as to how Hume’s discussion is to be interpreted. Hume employs three characters—Demea, Philo, and Cleanthes; and

Do the most celebrated works of Rousseau—more particularly his Discourse on Inequality, émile, and Control Social—present on the whole a coherent answer to the problems of Education and Society? My impression is that Rousseau has here been very much calumniated, owing to the incredible haste and superficiality with which his writings have generally been studied. Even sympathetic inquirers, like M. Schinz in his thorough and attractive work La Pensée de J. J. Rousseau, seem to be too easily discouraged in the quest for unity.

The relation of knowledge to action and of theory to practice constitutes one of the most vital problems for human thought to-day. The classical philosophy, which the Catholic Church has inherited from the master-minds of ancient Greece, tends on the whole to rank theory above practice, and to maintain that ultimately we act for the sake of knowing. Characteristically modern thought, on the other hand, in most of its multifarious forms, inverts this order of precedence. We are commonly taught to-day that knowledge exists for the sake of action, and that theories are to be judged true or false according to their tendency to promote or hinder those severely practical aims, the attainment of which must constitute the main business of living. It is with the causes of this change of mind, and the judgment which we ought to pass upon its general value, that I propose to deal in this article.