526 SCIENCE PROGRESS 



mediocre people. In the present case the word psychological has no meaning 

 whatsoever, and we might with just as much reason speak of " the ecclesiological 

 moment," or "the mineralogical moment," or "the organo-therapeutic moment." 

 Any one of these would be quite as fitting a substitute for " the critical moment." 



Herr Chamberlain and Lord Redesdale pay special attention to the personality 

 of Kant, and this constitutes an interesting feature of the book. The son of a 

 Scotsman, he was born in Konigsberg, and during his entire lifetime never 

 once left that town. He was " a small wizen man, hardly above a dwarf in 

 stature, with sharp inquisitive features, and an eye that penetrates your very 

 soul." He was immaculately dressed, " as well groomed as any Beau Brummell," 

 a fact which may represent, as Lord Redesdale affirms, "his one sacrifice to the 

 Arts," but was more probably a mere manifestation of vanity. He had read 

 enormously, and appeared to have an intimate knowledge of the world derived 

 from books alone. It is related (though not in the present work) that Kant's 

 afternoon walks in Konigsberg were so regular that the good citizens of the 

 town used to set their clocks as he passed their windows. On one occasion, 

 when his house was broken into by a burglar, " Kant rushed upon the thief with 

 the concentrated rage of a wounded tiger," and the burly intruder had sufficient 

 sense of propriety to flee panic-stricken before the wizened dwarf. But why 

 should the philosopher have been so indignant, if it is true that " his only gems 

 were his thoughts, his wealth the rich mine of wisdom and reason " ? We should 

 have been glad to learn whether Kant had any bad points to set against the 

 truly startling virtues with which he is credited by his panegyrists. 



That Kant was a man of gigantic intellectual powers cannot for a moment 

 be called in question : that his writings have enormous powers of proselytism is 

 equally obvious. It still remains true — partly indeed for this very reason — that in 

 the whole history of modern philosophy there has been no influence of so malign 

 a character as that of Kant. I do not mean to imply that there are not many 

 other philosophers — such for instance as Hegel — whose philosophies are far less 

 attractive to the man of science, even than that of Kant. The writings of Hegel 

 are too esoteric to influence any one outside the small circle of metaphysicians : 

 those of Kant, on the other hand, have exercised a profound control over the 

 fundamental philosophical concepts of the nineteenth century. To shake off those 

 concepts is incredibly difficult : it needs a generation like that of Voltaire, who 

 derided authority in its most sanctified thrones, and gave mortal offence to the 

 established convictions of his century. It may well be that the present war will 

 decide the future trend of philosophical thought — a matter which to some seems 

 more important even than redistributions of territory. Certain it is that the 

 irreverence, the overthrow of authority, the materialism and radicalism, can never 

 arise from the German type of mind, with its strongly mystical and reverential 

 tendencies. In the past, it is the French who have attacked authority with 

 their light derisive scepticism : it is the Scottish and English philosophers who 

 have introduced the most solid and overwhelming revolutions of thought. And 

 so when, in Lord Redesdale's words, Chamberlain " lovingly and eloquently " 

 beckons us to the treasure-house of Kant, some among us may still mockingly 

 and irreverently decline. We distrust even the personality of that little man, 

 who never passed beyond his native town, and whose dress would in our time 

 probably cause him to be described as a "nut." But above all we repudiate any 

 suggestion that the great work of modern science can be in the smallest par- 

 ticular affected by anything that may have been said or thought by the German 

 metaphysician of a hundred years ago. Hugh Elliot. 



