Classics in the History of Psychology

An internet resource developed by
Christopher D. Green
York University, Toronto, Ontario
ISSN 1492-3173

Autobiography of Carl Stumpf

First published in Murchison, Carl. (Ed.) (1930). History of Psychology in Autobiography (Vol. 1, pp. , pp. 389-441).
Republished by the permission of Clark University Press, Worcester, MA.

[Editor's note: The version created by M. Stanford & A. Adams, members of the History & Systems of Psychology course of John Kraft, who contributed it to the Classics in the History of Psychology website. -cdg-]

Posted November 2004

INTRODUCTION*

"We scorn construction, love investigation, maintain a skeptical attitude towards the mechanism of a system… We are content at the end of a long life to have tapped various lines of scientific research which lead to the foundation of things; we are content to die on the way." -- W. Dilthey (1865).

To the following "self-presentation" -- the length of which I beg to excuse in view of the length of my scientific service -- I consented only after some hesitation, when I realized on various occasions how difficult it was even for my scientific colleagues and pupils to find the thread unifying my much-ramified writings and to discover the roots of my scientific life-work. I hope this may be facilitated by the following.

I. Biography

I was born on Good Friday, April 21, 1848, in the little hamlet of Wiesentheid in Franconia, and on Easter Sunday I was baptized according to the Catholic rites. My parents were the County Court Physician Eugen Stumpf and Marie Stumpf, née Adelmann. Three brothers have been, and three sisters still are, my tried and true companions in joy and in sorrow. My parents, whose life and care were entirely devoted to the welfare of their children, were still living when I was called to Munich. My grandfather, Andreas Sebastian Stumpf, who died long before my birth, was a well-known Barvarian historian and a member of several academies. My father's two brothers also were active in science, and published works on statistics, biography, and forestry. My grandfather Adelmann, born in 1770, Court Physician in Gerolzhofen, had studied the French literature of the eighteenth century, as well as Kant and Schelling, whose works, with abstracts and notes, were found in his library. After his retirement, he came to live with us and taught me the fundamentals of Latin, and later on followed my progress with interest almost to the university. The Adelmann family, which came from Oldenburg to Fulda and Würzburg, numbered remarkably many doctors among its members. Five of these, among them three university professors, in Dorpat, Löwen, and Würzburg, I knew personally, four others only by name. Thus it may be that the love of medicine and natural science was in my blood. Both of my parents [p. 390] were musical, my father an excellent singer, my mother a good pianist. From them I inherited my love of music.

After a year in the Latin school at Kitzingen, I attended the "gymnasium" in Bamburg from 1859-1863, and the two following years at Aschaffenburg, where my father was transferred. This charming town became our second home.

As I was physically frail, but mentally intense and ambitious, religious, and over-conscientious, my mind developed faster than was really good for my nerves. But fortunately I could spend the first ten years of my life in the country, where not only a spacious yard, but also some farm-work stimulated physical activity. Other physical exercise also had an invigorating effect, such as gymnastics, swimming, and especially hiking with my brothers and sisters through beautiful Franconia, later from Aschaffenburg through the Rhineland and the mountains of central Germany, and still later through the length and breadth of the Tyrol and Switzerland. Walking and mountain-climbing in pleasant company seemed to me one of the most important aims of human existence -- liberating and broadening the spirit -- and the school semester, by contrast, a sort of purgatory preliminary to the heaven of vacation. Many young people in southern Germany probably feel much the same way. This passion for hiking has stayed with me even to my old age, and undoubtedly has helped me to attain the latter.

I do not remember the studies at the "gymnasium" with much pleasure, generally speaking. I made good progress, but only with considerable effort, as I was a year ahead of my age and did not have a good memory for history and geography. Of my teachers, I hold only two in grateful memory, especially the aged Hocheder in Aschaffenburg, senior professor of the graduating class, who was, incidentally, an impassioned astronomer, and through our study of the Phaedon first awakened my love of philosophy and of the divine Plato. I have ever remained, at heart, a disciple of Plato. The instruction in general was anything but inspiring, and even technically unsatisfactory. Mathematics especially was very poorly taught. I had no special talent in that line, but with a sound foundation in school I should probably have made greater progress in it.

There was, however, in the higher institutions of Franconia an excellent opportunity for musical education. Even in Kitzingen [p. 391] from singing in the massbooks, I had learned the old-fashioned notes of the four-line system, and could soon sing at sight in any key.

At Bamberg we had a complete orchestra which met regularly at the free-standing Aula-building for practice under the direction of the excellent conductor Dietz. One could learn to play any instrument, free of charge. At the age of seven, I had commenced to study the violin, and during my student years had several opportunities to play in public. Besides this, I had learned without instruction to play five other instruments with more or less success. When we played or sang together at home, the leadership was left to me, and I formed the habit of hearing music analytically, i.e., by following the single voices or parts. Quite objectively speaking, I cannot understand how, without this ability, one can really appreciate in polyphonic music the beauty of the pattern, the weaving in and out of the individual voices, composition in the true sense. The copying of notes, which for reasons of economy I practiced assidiously [sic], also aided me to gain an insight into the trade secrets of music, as it served Rousseau in a similar manner. In my tenth year I began to compose (my very first work was an oratorio, "The Walk to Emmaus," for three male voices), and during the last years of my course this developed into a dominating passion while I was studying the theory of harmony and counterpoint in the manuals of Silcher, Lobe, and Gottfried Weber. I composed quartets for strings and other pieces, but unfortunately inspiration did not always keep step with labored reflection. The only product of any originality was a scherzo in complete 5/4 time.

Thus, at the age of seventeen, I entered the university with more love of music than of erudition. In Würzburg I followed the proper Bavarian custom of attending lectures on general subjects. The course on aesthetics by Professor Urlich, the philologist, stimulated me to study the Kritik der Urteilskraft from my grandfather's library.

Thus Kant became another of my guiding lights in philosophy. During the second semester I decided to study jurisprudence, not from inclination, but in order to have a profession that would leave me some leisure for music. I diligently attended lectures on institutions and pandects, on the history of Roman and German law. But towards the end of this semester came the great change, by the addition of Franz Brentano to the faculty. Elsewhere I have already described the complete change which this man's appearance, [p. 392] his personality, his manner of thinking and teaching wrought in me. Everything else vanished before the great problems of philosophical and religious regeneration. Keen thinking had scarcely been in my line so far, and was rather irksome. Only through Brentano's iron discipline the craving for logical clearness and consistency became second nature. All emotional life had to submit now to the laws of reason. This was not to cripple it, but rather to direct it exclusively towards those aims that to us seemed the highest. I was ready to relinquish all worldly happiness for the realization of the ethical-religious ideas of Christianity in my fellow creatures and within myself. This was my condition of mind for four years.

Besides Brentano's lectures, I also took courses in natural science, as he considered both the substance and the methods of science important for philosophy. His dissertation, wherein he presented the thesis that the true philosophical method is none other than that for natural science, was and has ever remained a lodestar to me. In order to attain some practical knowledge along this line, I worked in the chemical laboratory, though with the final result that by some careless reaction I caused a small conflagration which might have spread over the whole building if the attendant had not come to the rescue. I never attained manual cleverness.

In my fifth semester, at Brentano's advice I went to Göttingen to study with Lotze, and to graduate there. How Lotze became my fatherly friend I have likewise mentioned elsewhere. His mental attitude had greater influence on me than Brentano really wished, although the fundamental epistemological lines were always those that Brentano had impressed upon my mind. Besides Lotze's lectures, I also took those of the physiologist, Wilhelm Weber. The latter, besides Brentano and Lotze, developed and formed my manner of scientific thinking. The modest old man, whose whole appearance in the lecture-room seemed at first awkward, even comical, had developed by the most intense mental effort a system of physics, which, better than any logical lecture, revealed to the student the methodology of inductive thinking. His course, which ran through two semesters, I took down in shorthand almost word for word. Ever since, physics has seemed to me the ideal inductive science. Friedrich Kohlrausch's research course introduced me to the technique of investigation. Today such preparation, at least for the psychologist, is a matter of course; but at that time a philosopher [p. 393] in the chemical and physical laboratory courses was a white raven -- a rara avis.

My thesis I wrote with a special view to its logical form, and this may have been why Lotze, who at first maintained a skeptical attitude towards my subject and advised against it, in the end changed his mind. The procedure, which I had derived from Brentano, and indirectly from Aristotle, namely, to prepare for the final argument by a complete disjunction of possible opinions and a refutation of all but one, is found in many of my later writings. In preparation for the final examination, I read all the great philosophical classics, howbeit in a very cursory manner, and for my dissertation, the entire Platonic literature. Brentano's oral instruction and writings had naturally given me a pretty thorough grounding in Aristotle's teachings. How seriously the theory of ideas, which gave even Aristotle some troubles and which -- mutatis mutandis -- is repeated in modern German idealism, must have tormented me is shown by the cry of despair in my first disputation thesis, "Ideae nomen e metaphysica expellendum esse censeo." It probably did not please Lotze any too well. The same mood inspired also the initial question of a somewhat arrogant little essay during the time I was in Würzburg concerning the psychology of the present time: Sind wir noch Idealisten?

After my graduation in August, 1868, I returned to Würzburg to continue my philosophical studies with Brentano and at the same time to begin the study of theology. In the fall of 1869, I entered the ecclesiastical seminary in Würzburg where I was initiated into the liturgical ceremonies of the Church, the ascetic regulations, which I observed most conscientiously, and all the details of religious exercises. The theological lectures gave me no pleasure, except those of the genial old commentator Schegg, who had traveled through the Holy Land and could describe it most vividly. Besides, I studied most diligently Thomas Aquinas and other scholastics; and Hebrew, on account of the Bible. The fact that I now know only the first letter of the alphabet of this language is a striking example of the effect of disuse on memory.

Within the walls of the seminary, however, even in the spring of 1870, the second, still more fundamental regeneration overtook me, and again under Brentano's influence. The whole structure of the Catholic-Christian dogmatic theology and Weltanschauung crumbled to dust before my eyes. In terrible agony of soul I had [p. 394] to give up my chosen life work, my ideal. In July, I took off the black robe. I had not been ordained as yet, so there were no serious complications. But I had to find my way back to the world, and many favorable, as well as unfavorable, after-effects of this year I was to feel for a long time to come.

Soon, however, I decided to go to Göttingen to attain an instructorship in philosophy. Upon my entrance to the seminary, Lotze had written me a letter from which I have quoted his religious views in another article, the end of which, however, I shall add here:

"The most important point I approach last. I am far from satisfied with the condition of the Protestant church and theology, and will let your criticisms pass, through I do not approve of them all. I suspect that you do not sanction everything that your church brings forth nowadays (its infallibility). The principle itself I cannot discuss with you, since I as well as you believe that the living faith is the only foundation for it. Your decision to become a priest I can accept only with deep respect for your conscientious conviction, and, although it destroys a cherished hope of mine, still I realize the full extent of the blessing that your strong spirit may carry with it in your calling; I realize this too well to think of opposing your decision in any way. Nevertheless, forgive me, who loves you so dearly, one urgent, rather than serious, request: Do not now in your early youth, which you are still enjoying, take such a decisive step, an irrevocable one, too rashly! Everything else I leave to your good judgment, your consideration; but this one thing I beg of you!"

These words, revealing his respect for every individuality as well as his personal affection for me (he even intended to visit me during vacation in Aschaffenburg or Würzburg), I had treasured like a jewel in my heart, but realized now for the first time how right he had been with his "rather serious" warning. When he heard of my change of heart, he wrote, in a similar vein, that he would consider it indelicate if he should offer to help me, in my inner struggle, with views which originated form entirely different starting-points; that I would fight it out all right by myself.

"There is just one point that is troublesome, which I would mention here: Life is long, and yours, I hope, will be measured for you as long as for the most favored. Is it, then, necessary to settle all your doubts concerning the most important matter at once? Perhaps you are tormenting yourself too much by meditating incessantly about things which might me put aside for the time being, not that you have declined to make binding decision; then, after your mind has had some rest and recreation, you can return to these problems with a greater calmness, impartiality, and receptiveness."

He approved my decision. During vacation I worked on a dissertation [p. 395] about mathematical axioms and at the end of October, 1870, I became instructor in Göttingen. I have never published this dissertation, as the non-Euclidian way of thinking to which Felix Klein had introduced me was, after all, a little beyond me.

The transition from the seclusion of the convent to the "city of the muses," which in the eighteenth century had produced the "philosophers for the world," and where even now, in spite of the War, sociability flourished, was extremely sudden and staggering. But my youth had enough elasticity to adapt itself, and I soon felt at home in the new milieu. Lotze's house was always open to me, as well as Baumann's and finally Henle's, at whose musical evenings I played the cello in the quartet. He was a man of the most genial humor and of great kindliness towards his friends. Even shortly before his death (1885) I received his charming chatty letters. His "Anthropological Lectures" are known for their keen psychological observations. During these years I met besides the famous men of Göttingen, also those two veterans of psychophysics in Leipzig, E. H. Weber and Fechner, the former at the home of his brother Wilhelm, where he showed me on my own body various sensory fields, and the latter on a field-trip with Felix Klein. With Fechner I discussed the difficulties of atomism caused by the unity of consciousness, which he thought to solve by analogy with the unity of the concept. We also served him as subjects for his experiment with the golden section. The personality of these two great men, genuine scientific investigators, made a lasting impression on me. But there was also in Göttingen a fine cooperation among the numerous young minds. My closest friends were Felix Klein and the Scotchman, William Robertson Smith, who as a liberal Bible investigator later on suffered serious persecution in his native country. Klein, who even then felt within him the urge to organize, founded with me the "Eskimo," a society of young scientists, for the purpose of lectures and friendly intercourse, wherein I was to represent the philosophical part. Professors were excluded. The club is still alive -- as far as I know -- but with somewhat modified conditions.

I began my lectures with ancient philosophy, especially that of Aristotle, whom I studied intensively for a whole year. As my first more serious work, I attempted a critical history of the conception of substance, over which I racked my brain most awfully until I abandoned the problem, and, at Easter, 1872, took up the psychological [p. 396] theme of the origin of space conception. In the relation between color and extension I believed, and still believe, to find a striking example or analogue of the relation which metaphysics assumes to exist among the qualities of a substance. Thus the new problem was connected with my old work.

It progressed rapidly, and, in the fall of the same year, the book was printed. It appeared at a time rather propitious for my advancement, as there were vacancies in philosophy in five universities. In Vienna I was considered as a second choice, but at Würzburg, where Brentano and Lotze had spoken for me, an offer materialized, and in the fall of 1873 I was settled in my new position as professor.

It seemed great luck to find a position in a famous university so soon -- especially for the sake of my parents. But there were also certain disadvantages: I had neither enough experience in life nor the necessary scientific maturity for the difficult position. As Brentano has resigned, and the aged Hoffmann, a follower of Baader, found scarcely any listeners, I had to represent, as it were, the whole Department of Philosophy; but with the courage of youth I gave, in turn, all the great philosophical subjects except ethics. The aftereffects of this over-exertion I was to feel for many a year.

In 1874, on a trip through Italy, I met -- besides Bonatelli and Belotti -- the leader of Italian philosophy, that remarkable man, Count Terenzio Mamiani, and his pupil, Luigi Ferri, both of whom asked me casually about the condition of German philosophy. In the same year I took a trip across the Channel with Smith and had an opportunity to fill out (in the British Museum) my knowledge of English philosophy, much of which Smith had already brought to my attention in connection with my book on space. Like Brentano, I delighted in this clear, logical -- if not always profound -- philosophizing, and the keen presentation of contrasts that we find in truly classic style in Mills's book on Hamilton. But Herbert Spencer's constructive manner always seemed tedious to me.

The first scholarly work I undertook was a history of the psychology of association, which was connected with my first-mentioned studies, but I gave it up as I had given up that of the conception of substance, and decided to devote myself henceforth to that field which, connecting my musical experiences and studies with the interests of psychology, seemed to me, personally, the most promising. In 1875 I commenced my work on Tonpsychologie. The excellent [p. 397] collection of acoustic devices at the Institute of Physics was placed at my unrestricted disposal through the kindness of my former teacher Kohlrausch of Göttingen. Besides, I frequently spent days in Hanau with the organ builder, Appunn, who had worked for Helmholtz, and we vied with each other in study and observation. I was well aware, of course, that such absorption in all the details of a field of sensation stood in sharp contrast to the general conception of the mission of the philosopher, although Fechner had been a famous example of this type. When I considered the hopeless condition, as it appeared, perhaps, in Überweg's review of recent philosophy -- ever new systems without any connection with one another, each bent on originality, at least on a new terminology, none of them with any power of conviction -- when I compared this with the evolution of physics, what a vast difference! Might it not be possible for a specialist in philosophy to work together with other specialists, at least in some particular field? If this were done by others in other fields, might there not result finally a beneficial relationship between philosophy and the single sciences?

Thus the time in Würzburg marks for me the beginning of a new line of work to which I have remained faithful to the present day, which, however, has made me an outsider to the great majority of my colleagues. My work of observation and experimentation has absorbed my time and strength even more than is the case with most experimental psychologists. Although I fully appreciate the saying of Aristotle that theory is the sweetest of all, I must confess that it was always a joy and a comfort to pass from theory to observation, from meditation to facts, from my writing-desk to the laboratory; and, thus, in the end, my writing-desk was neglected and has not produced a single textbook or compendium, which indeed ought to have been its first duty, even at the time when I was an instructor. However, I never intended to spend so much of my lifetime on acoustics and musical psychological studies as I did later on. I had counted on a few years. But it was, after all, not musical science but philosophy that always remained mistress of the house, who, it is true, granted most generously great privileges to her helpmate.

In this gay Frankish city, however, one did not live only to work. There was a large circle of friends and plenty of fun, but to talk about such matters would be quite out of place here. Among the older men, Kohlrausch and Wislicenus were my most intimate friends; [p. 398] among the young scientists there was Erich Schmidt, who took my lectures on metaphysics, besides the buoyant archaeologist, Flasch, and the Romanist, Mall, a native of the Palatinate, who had absorbed the air of Berlin during the stirring sixties, a sort of Mephistophelian Merk, whose influence had a good deal to do with my withdrawal from Brentano's unconditional optimism. After five years I was thoroughly tired of a bachelor's life, and I realized that a certain attachment of the Göttingen period had taken deeper root than I had been ready to admit even to myself. Music, Beethoven's great wonderful Trio in B Major, had brought us together. Meanwhile, Miss Hermine Biedermann had taken a teaching position in Berlin. She followed the new call, and soon we were united for life. The great Trio in B Major, however, became our family trio.

In 1879 I received a call to Prague to succeed Volkmann. The faculty had thought at first of Otto Liebmann, but Brentano, who had been teaching in Vienna since 1874, had recommended me, without my knowledge, in order to gain in Austria a firmer hold for our theories. Under these circumstances I hesitated, but finally I accepted, partly because the strange romantic city on the Moldau appealed to my innate wanderlust, partly or indeed mainly because my influence in Würzburg, for local reasons, had greatly decreased during recent years. A philosopher who does not specialize in popular lectures can expect a large audience in Würzburg only if the students of theology attend his courses. This was the case during my first semester. But, as I in no way concealed my independent attitude toward the Church, the theological students gradually dropped my lectures almost entirely. A religious Protestant, like Külpe, is much more acceptable to the Catholic theological faculty than an heretical Catholic.

In the fall of 1879 my work in Prague commenced. The following year came Marty from Czernowitz, my best friend during my college days in Würzburg. The intercourse and professional cooperation with this man, remarkable for his keen mind and strength of character, whose studies in the philosophy of language led him deep into thought-psychology, was a great boon to me. It is, perhaps, not quite wise in assembling a faculty to maintain that the members of the philosophical department should hold different or even opposite views. If the point of view itself is not too one-sided, both students and teachers will gain decidedly by harmonious cooperation of like-minded leaders.

[p. 399] In Prague I had to give, every winter, a long course in practical philosophy -- obligatory for the law students -- which, so far, had concerned me very little. I at once worked out systematically and thoroughly a most comprehensive course, including philosophy of law and of the state. In this connection I picked up many loose threads of my brief experience as a law student, and became especially fascinated with problems of penal law. Later on, I gave, repeatedly, courses in practical philosophy and on the theory of voluntary action; the last time was in Berlin, in 1896.

The strenuous work of the first winter, together with family trouble and the unhygienic conditions of the city, seriously affected my health. However, in the second year I was able to resume my work on tone psychology, although the necessary apparatus was almost entirely lacking. To the investigation of extremely unmusical subjects, commenced in Würzburg, I now added the study of the theories of music of antiquity and of the Middle Ages and also the study of the ethnological literature of music -- such as it was at that time. In 1883 the first volume of my Tonpsychologie appeared, which, in spite of long preparation, was, just like the book on space, finished only after it had gone to press, and shows the effects of this procedure.

Among my colleagues, Marty, Mach, and Hering were professionally closest to me. I never became personally intimate with Mach, in spite of my high esteem for the man, whereas I have maintained friendly relations with Hering all my life. These two men were the leaders of German rationalism at the University. During the struggle for our nationality, which rose to great intensity under the Taaffe ministry, I myself became a good German and learned to hold the Bohemian Germans in high esteem as a serious industrious branch of our people steeled by centuries of fighting for their national existence. The year 1882 brought to us our great joy, a visit from William James, who had liked my book on space, and with whom I soon found myself on terms of friendship. Later we met again in Munich and we kept up our correspondence to the end, though I could not follow him in his conversion to pragmatism. In his letters, published by his son, the genial, warm-hearted disposition of this brilliant man is particularly well revealed.

In the summer of 1884 I received a call to Halle to take Ulrici's place as a colleague of Haym and J. E. Erdmann. My longing for [p. 400] the German Fatherland had become so intense that I accepted the call with great rejoicing. In the quiet town of Halle I met G. Cantor, who was greatly interested in philosophy; and, since 1886, Husserl, recommended by Brentano, was first my student, later an instructor, and became intimately associated with me scientifically and as a friend; nothing here could interfere with my work, except the active social life, which I never could stand very well; but I made good progress with the second volume of the Tonpsychologie. That I had to make the fusion-experiments on the cathedral organ, instead of in a psychological institute, was no disadvantage, as there is no richer source of constant tone waves, of all possible shadings, than a good organ. On the other hand, I felt very keenly the lack of necessary apparatus, but I was able for the first time to make musical experiments with primitive subjects, i.e., on the Bellakula Indians and other tribes, who, through the efforts of Alfred Kirchhoff, honored the city with their visit.

In 1889 I was called to Munich as the successor of Prantl. Again I did not hesitate to accept, happy in the prospect to be nearer my old home; and in the fall of the same year I was settled in my beloved Munich. Here von Hertling, also a pupil of Brentano, was the exponent of Catholic philosophy. He was a loyal colleague, but on account of our diverging views we never became personally intimate. My dearest friend was the aesthetically minded philologist, Rudolph Schöll, who unfortunately died at an early age. For experimental psychology, and more especially for my acoustic studies, I could now gradually gather a collection of apparatus which was paid for from the faculty exchequer. This collection was kept partly in a closet in one of the corridors of the University, whence I took the instruments on Sundays to one of the lecture-rooms for observation and experiments, and partly in the upper story of the high tower, which still stands among the back-buildings of the University. The assistant of the Physical Institute had bought, for a song, a tuning-fork piano, which might have dated from the times of Chladnis; this he had taken apart, and he sold me the tuning-forks, a "continuous tone-series," with which I made many observations for the second volume of the Tonpsychologie. That is the way one had to manage in those days.

In Munich, as a member of the Academy, I wrote a number of academic treatises -- hack-writing, in a sense, as one had to choose [p. 401] one's subject with some regard to the space-limits, into which philosophical subjects are less easily fitted than themes of history, philology, or natural science. Many of the lectures I gave in Berlin remained in manuscript, but the customary condensed tables of contents in the assembly reports I have added to the index of my writings, since they can at least suggest my views on the various subjects to any one who might be interested.

My severe criticism of a piece of work emanating from the Leipzig Institute involved me in a discussion with Wundt, which he, on his part, spiced with the most scathing invectives. That I was objectively right was proven by the fact that the results of the experiments in question -- supposed to upset Fechner's law -- were never and nowhere mentioned again, so far as I know, except in Wundt's textbook. However, I did not hesitate to express my opinion of the later acoustic work of the Leipzig school, nearly all of which I had to condemn; but I hope that I never overstepped the limits of objective criticism. Wundt's methods of procedure had been repellent to me even since his Heidelberg days, and continue to be so, although I admire his extraordinary breadth of vision and his literary productivity, even in his extreme old age.

I never imagined that I could leave Munich again, but, after five years, as in Prague and Halle, temptation approached me once more. Althoff tendered me an invitation to Berlin, where they wanted an experimental psychologist, when Zeller resigned, and Dilthey represented the historical approach. Although the call was a distinct honor, I had never felt any love for Berlin, and feared especially that there I should not be able to carry out my scientific life-work as I had planned it, so I declined. But, after a few weeks, I began to realize that Munich, after all, was not the right place to realize my ambitions. It was impossible to found an institute. I had appealed to the Minister of Education, who had always been most accommodating, for a yearly appropriation of five hundred marks for experimental psychology. His answer was that such a sum might be attainable, but that he would have to put the matter before the legislature, and there he might meet with the reproach that he was favoring materialism. Thereupon I declared that I should have to leave. Soon after this, however, Lipps was granted an endowed seminary, and later, Külpe a large institute. So the real reason for the Minister's attitude was probably quite a different matter, namely, [p. 402] my decided opposition to certain ecclesiastical wishes, shared by the court, in regard to the Academy.

Thus, at Easter of the year 1894, I went to Berlin, and now, after thirty years, I still believe that my decision was for the best. My fear that I might not be able to finish the Tonpsychologie and other greater works I had planned, unfortunately, proved well founded. But the psychological seminary, which started in three dark back rooms, developed into a large institute; and I have been able to pursue every kind of work, often fully, in every direction that interested me. Berlin's genius loci, the all-pervading spirit of work, had caught me. Inspirations came a-plenty, and there was no question, however remote, on which one could not find an expert opinion. Berlin was, moreover, musically the foremost city of the world, and Joachim, that noblest of performing artists whom I had known for some time as a friend, was still in his prime. All the great men with whom, during these many years, I came into closer touch officially, personally, and often socially, I cannot even name here. But I do want to mention that fact that I was able to associate personally with Helmholtz for at least one semester, and with Mommsen, for a decade; to maintain most cordial and harmonious relations with Dilthey, Paulsen, and their successors; and to renew my old friendship with Erich Schmidt and Kohlrausch. The personal intercourse among the colleagues of the University was kept up, in spite of long distances, not only by social life but also by the weekly faculty and academic meeting, and I considered it most fortunate that the large College of Arts and Sciences, in spite of its immense administrative burden, remained undivided. Through the many points of contact between psychology and modern thinking and living, I found that the great city harbored, besides men of sincere scientific interest and attitude, dangerous persons with questionable ambitions, who, under cover of art or science or even social welfare, pursued idle or commercial aims. This fact has often engendered disagreeable and time-consuming friction.

Since I feared not only the distraction from my own work, but also the danger of wholesale production for such a new scientific departure, it was my own wish that the experimental equipment and locality be started on a small scale. But soon the needs of the students required an extension which was now, of course, more difficult to obtain. In 1900 the seminar was turned into a much enlarged [p. 403] institute, but ever and again there were new requirements, requests, petitions. In 1920 we were given twenty-five rooms in the former imperial castle, whose management under the generally difficult circumstances caused me much trouble, until I was able to relegate it to younger hands. From this original institute there developed in the course of time four smaller establishments devoted to medicine, theory of music, and to military purposes; they are conducted by students. Much more active that I in the development of the equipment were my assistants, first Dr. Fr. Schumann, and, later, Dr. Rupp, the enthusiastic and expert constructor of apparatus.[1] These men also conducted the experimental courses, while I had charge of the theoretical meetings, in which we discussed psychological problems a propos of various recent treatises, and emphasized, in the spirit of Brentano, not only the need of psychological observation but also the necessity of logical thinking. I laid particular stress on these meetings because I regard the experimental method -- at least of the external sort -- by no means as the cure-all for psychology. For some time we were especially concerned with the theory of volition and questions of legal psychology, in the discussion of which certain men took part who later became prominent in the profession, such as Kantorowicz and Radbruch. This highly fertile field should be, I believe, investigated much more thoroughly by psychologists. The theory of volition was also the subject of several academic lectures, which were never published.

My studies in acoustics at Berlin, in which I was assisted, even during the first few years, by Abraham, Schaefer, Max Meyer, Pfungst, and later on by von Hornbostel, von Allesch, and many others, were initially of a purely physical nature, and were published in the Annalen der Physik. By testing musical sources for their overtones and by the production of absolutely simple tones by the interference method, we laid the foundation for all subsequent acoustic experiments at the Institute. These have been collected since 1898 in my Beiträge, of which the first volume, containing my Konsonanztheorie, had been intended for the nucleus of the third volume of the Tonpsychologie, but now had to be published by itself. Our acoustic equipment gradually reached a state of unusual [p. 404] completeness, but was suggested and developed entirely according to the requirements of the investigation; not a single piece served merely for demonstration.

In 1896 von Shrenck-Notzing and I took charge of the preparations for the Third International Congress of Psychology in Munich, also of its direction. The attendance from all countries was enormous, and the resulting correspondence consumed a large part of my time. As my theme for the inaugural address I chose the vital question of the relation between mind and body. I endeavored to prevent hypnotic and occult phenomena from occupying the foreground, as had been the case in former sessions. The related departments were likewise represented by prominent investigators, as Hering, Flechsig, von Liszt, Pierre Janet, Richet, Forel, Flournoy, and Sidgwick. There was many a sharp conflict and spirited encounter, and, without doubt, much that was interesting and stimulating. Nevertheless, there has been no subsequent International Congress of Psychology in Germany since then, and it was considered more advantageous to discuss such moot questions in the domestic circle of the Deutsche Gesellschaft für experimentelle Psychologie, where foreigners also could take part.

With some phonographic records of a Siamese company performing in Berlin, I started, in 1900, the Archive for Phonograms, which was further developed by Abraham and von Hornbostel and later on conducted entirely by the latter.

At this time the work founded by Spitta, Denkmäler deutscher Tonkunst, and discontinued after his death in 1894, was reorganized by R. von Liliencron. I had been a member of the Commission since my coming to Berlin, and now, at the urgent request of Liliencron and Althoff, I consented to substitute for the deaf, eighty-year-old president, and kept his place until he died in 1912. The friendship with the venerable scholar, a nobleman in the true sense of the word, was a great privilege. For the rest, I thought of Mommsen's saying that in every commission there should be one member who knows nothing about the matter in question. Still, the merely formal direction of the discussions I could assume with an easy conscience and could increase, thereby, my knowledge of the old masters in a most desirable manner.

The same year I started, together with the principal, Dr. Kemsies, the Berlin Gesellschaft für Kinderpsychologie. By means of this [p. 405] organization I hoped to induce the teachers, especially of the intermediate schools, and also medical circles and educated parents, to take an active part in psychological studies and observations of the mental life of the child. I myself had repeatedly found these valuable in tone psychology, and I had kept a careful record of my own children. For several years this enterprise was very successful; during this time, among medical men especially, the famous child specialist, Dr. Heubner, took an active part. Two lectures of mine, later included in the collected lectures, were suggested by this work; the one concerning the peculiar speech development of a child has been especially noticed in the literature. It appeared, gradually, that the teachers were kept away by the pressing duties of their profession, perhaps partly, also, by their suspicions against the reform-threatening psychology. At that very time the work of applied psychology and school reform came so forcibly to the front that there was no room left for a society with pronounced theoretical aims. Other duties forced me to give up the leadership, and during the War the society quietly passed away.

Frequently I have had the opportunity to study prodigies. Thus, in the year 1897, the nerve specialist, Placzek, led me to examine a boy of four years, who had a most remarkable memory. Since his second year, he had been exhibited in scientific societies of different countries, even at the Berlin Panoptikum. As a consequence of my detailed report in the Vossische Zeitung, a prominent newspaper with the financial aid of some rich patrons, a governess was engaged to help the child through the most difficult years. In school the miraculous abnormality, being incompatible with a normal development, gradually wore off. Now he has become, to my great satisfaction, an efficient school principal. In 1903 I studied the early signs of musical talent in the child prodigy, Pepito Arriola, whom Richet had already exhibited at the Paris Congress. He became a noted pianist during his sojourn in America, but not a great composer, as Arthur Nikisch and I had hoped, from his achievements as a child. Among many others I also examined the young Hungarian, Hyiregyházy, about whom Révész wrote a whole book.

Such pedagogocial-didactic applications of psychology, arising in connection with child psychology and memory experiments, gave birth, at the beginning of this century, to applied psychology. In the Psychological Institute, Professor Rupp devoted himself to this new [p. 406] branch and now has a whole division set apart for it. I, personally, was not interested, but I aided its bold endeavors whenever the necessary precaution in execution was not overlooked.

In 1903 my interest was aroused by Krueger's investigations of combination tones on which he founded a new consonance theory, and I undertook an experimental investigation of this field, which, with some lengthy interruptions, kept me busy until 1909. That I should spend so much time and effort on a comparatively small and unimportant field of phenomena, to which I attribute a physiological rather than a psychological significance, might cause some surprise; but whoever reads the treatise will admit that here some questions of methodological principles had to be settled and that there were many special questions of fact which could be answered by the newly developed processes. Still, it is true here, as elsewhere, that if I had known beforehand how long this work would take, I should never have undertaken it.

The year 1903 brought a diversion towards which, for the sake of concentration, I ought to have been less susceptible. The engineer Cervenka of Prague had been induced by two Berlin investigators to demonstrate in the assembly hall of the University an alleged highly important phonographic invention, and the most distinguished personages as well as the entire faculty were invited. It was claimed that photographs of sound waves had been changed back into sound. We of the Psychological Institute, as well as the representatives of the gramaphone company, suspected that here on hallowed ground a bold deception had been perpetrated. I wrote a challenging, sarcastic article, and followed it up with a second one in collaboration with the physiologist, Engelmann. The work of exposure was made very difficult for us; but, finally, we produced conclusive proofs, and, thereafter, not a single word of the great invention was ever heard again. The affair had, however, some positive results. One was a revolution and a complete reorganization of the International Musical Society.

Shortly thereafter I was involved in another affair, more directly concerning psychology; it was the case of "clever Hans." In 1904, having just returned from a celebration of Kant's anniversary in Königsberg, after the lecture I was requested by a member of the Board of Education, to which Mr. von Osten had appealed, to investigate the matter, since the Board did not know just what attitude [p. 407] to assume in regard to the affair. That this was not a case of intentional deception was evident from the fact that the horse responded to the well-known African explorer, Mr. Schillings, just the same as to Mr. von Osten. Therefore an investigation seemed not out of place. I fully realized the extraordinary difficulties involved; the excitement aroused in the city and even in foreign countries by the daily reports of the strange case in the newspapers; the curiosity of the crowds which sought admission; the peculiarities of Mr. von Osten; the unfavorable locality; etc. The irresistible desire to determine the facts induced me to undertake the investigation, and we finally succeeded in revealing the facts, mainly by virtue of the keen eyes and iron patience of my assistant, Pfungst. In this case there were many interesting, more general results. Unintentionally, Mr. von Osten had confirmed by an experiment in a grand style Aristotle's theory of the absence of abstract reasoning in animals. For, if a method so carefully planned pedagogically as that which this former teacher of mathematics had used with untiring patience on his horse effects only the recognition of an unconscious movement of the head, then such failure must be due to the incapacity of the pupil. This solution, it is true, was not accepted everywhere. There appeared the horses from Elberfeld and the dog from Mannheim, with which professors of zoölogy and psychiatry actually entered into correspondence. In the Journal of Animal Psychology these men are still defending the presence of higher thought processes in animals. I had no desire for further investigation of such cases. Later, when the Academy of Sciences was enabled by the Sampson bequest to found on Teneriffe a station for anthropoids, where, at the suggestion of Professor Rothmann, anthropoid apes, coming directly from the jungles of our colonies, were to be studied systematically, I suggested Dr. Köhler for this investigation, and we all know how successful he was. Köhler did not attempt biologically useless stunts of calculation; his experiments were concerned with the important life-activities of the animals, and he proved that his chimpanzees in their use of tools and detours went far beyond the assumed limits of animal intelligence, and showed, in a certain sense, an "intelligent" behavior; only empirically intelligent, of course, not presupposing any general concepts, as arithmetic does.

In 1905 I was invited by the Kaiser Wilhelm Academie für Militärarzte (Pepinière) to give short annual lecture courses on [p. 408] whatever philosophical topics I chose, and I gladly seized this opportunity to interest the medical youth in philosophy and its history. It must have been about this time that the assistance of the Physiological Institute, together with those of the Psychological Institute and myself, founded the "Hirnrinde" to discuss common problems in a similar manner as had once upon a time been done in the old Göttingen "Eskimo." Soon some of the medical students joined us, among them Hugo Liepmann, who was chosen president. This society still exists and has proved very much worth while.

I was Rector of the University in 1907-1908. In my inaugural speech I expressed my conception of the present-day position of philosophy and its aims and problems. The position brought many interesting experiences, such as meeting the leading personalities of all circles; representing the University at scientific congresses; a conversation of forty-five minutes' length with the Emperor during my official call, when he did almost all the talking and expressed himself with astounding frankness. My daily occupation with curricular problems and students' affairs brought me great satisfaction, and, in the second semester, some unexpected excitement, through the struggle with the Freie Studentenschaft, which so far had always enjoyed my special favor. This union did not by any means include the entire number of non-incorporated students (Finkenschaft), but only a relatively small group who had assumed the right to fight for the interests and cultural aims of all non-incorporated students. But again and again they confused the representation of the Finkenschaft itself, and the small group of second- or third-semester students, or at least its self-appointed leaders, made demands which amounted to a co-regency. So the combat was on. There were vast general students' assemblies, in which radical politicians of the left wing, such as Breitscheid and von Gerlach, increased the excitement. They spoke of the murderer of academic liberty, of the rule of the Russian knout. I dissolved the Freie Studentenschaft, and with this discord the year ended. The Senate had always supported me. In the following semester the Board of Education permitted the reorganization of the student body with entirely new rulings to avoid the above-mentioned confusion. During the following years, a general student board was appointed, which constituted a real representation of the student body, while the Freie Studentenschaft continued their otherwise most laudable work. It [p. 409] is possible that a too strict insistence on minor points, which I might have overlooked, intensified the struggle which, however, had also burst forth elsewhere (Marburg, Halle). But sooner or later it had to be settled. That it fell to my lot I deeply regretted, for I loved the students, and the affair marred that otherwise splendid year. In the warning words of my second lecture as a Rector (on ethical skepticism) the echo of that episode mingles with a premonition of the trying time that was about to beset our Fatherland and was already predictable from unmistakable symptoms.

In 1909 the Berlin Philosophical Seminar, toward which Riehl and I had been working for some time, was established and splendidly organized by Erdmann. I belonged nominally to the directors but could take part only as advisor, and once by holding a seminar on Aristotle's metaphysics. I should have liked to establish here, too, a connection between psychology and philosophy, but the Institute did not permit of this. Occasionally Kant and Hume furnished the texts for philosophical seminars.

A pleasant interruption of the summer semester of 1909 was the request to represent the University at the Darwin anniversary in Cambridge. I had witnessed the rise and fall of Darwinism in its original form, but the idea of evolution had been bred in my very bones -- as was the case with all my contemporaries; moreover, I felt such a profound admiration for the personality of this great investigator that I felt justified in accepting the mission. In my address, which was printed in the Jahreschronik of the University, I have expressed that admiration.

At the anniversary of the University of Berlin in 1910 the title of Doctor honoris was bestowed on me, and I gratefully appreciated this recognition of my efforts to establish a closer relationship between philosophy, psychology, and medicine. It was much less enjoyable that, in the course of time, I was forced to realize this relation as a patient and experimental subject by three dangerous abcesses of the ear, with two trepanations of the right temporal bone -- and twice also as casus rarissimus of ophthalmology. But my ear passed its rigorous test magna cum laude; each time it completely recovered its hearing, and I could continue my investigations on vowels which I had started just before the last operation. My eye, unfortunately, just barely passed.

In 1914, at the Sixth Congress of Experimental Psychology, I [p. 410] reported the recent experiments on the theory of tone. On this occasion I offered a critical discussion of the radical vowel investigations by W. Köhler of the Berlin Institute, which had first been reported at the Fourth Congress in 1910. This led me to study the nature of vowels and of sounds of speech, in general, more thoroughly than had been done in the last paragraphs of the Tonpsychologie. The experimental results fascinated me to such an extent that I could not give up the investigation until this important field of phenomenology had been satisfactorily cleared up. Since the Institute was almost deserted during the first years of the War, I took advantage of the stillness of my surroundings for the most intense effort of the sense of hearing for my tone analyses. On the other hand, there were, of course, great difficulties and delays in the construction or repairing of apparatus. Furthermore, during the last years of the War the Institute was used by younger men for experiments in military psychotechnique (apparatus for measuring sound, etc.), and, naturally, my peaceful researches had to give way. Consequently they were not finished until about 1918.

During the War a call for collaboration went to the experimental psychologists of all the great countries involved in the struggle. As a representative of psychology in the Capitol, I took part in the national organization of this work. We did not attain, however, such a comprehensive and systematic cooperation as was attained in America.

In another enterprise eminently peaceful, although likewise suggested by the War, we have without doubt surpassed other nations. In 1915, at the suggestion of the school principal, Doegen, a large number of philologists, together with me, a musical scholar, undertook to make phonographic records of the native dialects, songs, and other musical productions of the prisoners-of-war, who were gathering from all corners of the earth, often from unknown and inaccessible regions. The Minister of Education appointed a commission of specialists drawn from all parts of Germany, who took technically excellent records in thirty-two prison camps, at the same time collecting the necessary material for the scientific study and classification of the records. Besides the grammophone records of the Commission, the Phonogram Archive had Dr. Schünemann make a large number of records with the more convenient Edison machine. The direction of the Commission was entrusted to me and took much [p. 411] time, consuming even my lecture time for a whole semester. But it meant much to me to observe, personally, the delivery and general bearing of these exotic singers, which certainly supplemented and enlivened my impression of the records. After the revolution, this entire collection was taken from the Commission without even a word of thanks and turned over to the State Library, where, in my opinion, no adequate provision has been made for its scientific upkeep.

Our old Phonogram Archive, which we had been collecting for twenty years and which consisted of about 10,000 records of inestimable value since those primitive tribes may die out or become civilized, were not taken over by the state at that time, and therefore were left without financial backing. After the state's attorneys discovered that ownership of the collection -- to which we had really never given any thought -- was vested in Mr. von Hornbostel and me, we put it at the disposal of the state with the understanding that the latter would attend to the upkeep and continuation of the collection. This condition was granted, and in 1923 the collection was turned over to the Hochschule für Musik. Unfortunately, on account of the general financial depression, which naturally affects, first of all, matters not pertaining to everyday life, the state cannot at present provide adequately for this purpose, so that our worries are by no means disposed of. It is some satisfaction, however, that, in spite of unfavorable times, we were able to found the Sammelbände für vergleichende Musikwissenschaft and thus have an opportunity to publish any articles in this line; and, furthermore, that the appointment of Messrs. Schünemann, Sachs, and von Hornbostel at Berlin makes this city by far the best place to carry on researches in that field.

At Easter, 1921, my official activity at the University was ended, on account of the new regulations concerning the age limit; but I continued my lectures until the summer of 1923. In Berlin, where the different branches of philosophy are represented by a large number of younger instructors, my lectures did not include general philosophy, but were confined practically to psychology, history of philosophy, and logic; in more recent years I have repeatedly given a course entitled Weltanschauungsfragen, in which I presented, as It were, a philosophical system. My lectures have taken much of my time until just a few years ago, since each semester certain especially unsatisfactory parts had to be recast. I was anxious to give a general [p. 412] view of the subject, to trace the history of philosophy up to the present time, but also to illustrate principles of scientific method by certain detailed expositions. I was not over-fond of lecturing, and often found it even an irksome task, interfering with the scientific research which was my chief concern and of course always led me more deeply into the subject-matter than the lectures -- often, indeed, because of my special interests, along quite different lines of work. I have never, for instance, lectured on tone psychology or topics of musical research. Still, I recognized the marked advantage of combining teaching with scientific research for the very reason that it keeps in view the subject as a whole as well as in detail.

Since I had learned stenography in high school, I used to draw upon all sorts of shorthand memoranda in preparing my lectures. Only in recent years have my eyes forced me to dispense entirely with notes, and I must confess that consequently I take much more pleasure in my lectures, just because they are not literally "lectures" ("readings"), but speeches. I seem to be in closer and more vivid contact with my hearers. There is one disadvantage in using notes; by constant writing, one forms the habit of doing one's thinking while writing, and thus loses the art of speaking extemporaneously; still, the advantages are so great, especially for collecting material, making excerpts, and registering observations and experiments with all details, that, in general, I recommend it most warmly.

About 1907 I had resigned from the Prüfungskommission fur Oberlehrer because the abominable preparation of the candidates, who were absorbed in their major subjects, disgusted me, and because the system of keeping records, especially of the pedagogy examinations, as it was practiced at Berlin, consumed too much time. The university examinations, too, at Berlin are a considerable burden on the faculty, for, in addition to every major subject in the arts and sciences, philosophy is required as a minor. But here the results were more satisfactory. It was my habit not to confine my questions to a single theme but rather to probe here and there until I struck bottom. Often I found that the candidate had developed a real interest in philosophy, not merely in the examination.

I belonged to the committee of the Academy for editing the works of Kant and Leibniz, and, after the death of Dilthey and later Erdmann, I had to direct the work temporarily. I considered it lucky that during these years Kant's correspondence was finished -- [p. 413] the end of the long labor of editing his works -- and an effective start was made on Leibnitz' works, which became possible quite contrary to our expectations. In the preface I recalled the enthusiastic words of Boutroux, the former director of the French Leibnitz Commission, which stand in sharp contrast to the present exclusion of Germany from international scientific enterprises, and I expressed the hope that the spirit of Leibnitz would sometime come again into its own. It gave me great pleasure that at the end I had to mention also my little native town of Wisentheid, where interesting Leibnitz documents had been found in the ducal Schöborn archives.

I cannot close this sketch of my life without mentioning that in 1921 I severed my connection with the Catholic Church. Although estranged for over fifty years, I had never formally withdrawn, being too well aware of the blessings our Church bestowed, nor had I any inclination to exchange my old confession of faith for any other. But the behavior of the officiating priest at the funeral of one of my brothers (he considered it necessary to apologize for standing at this grave, because the deceased, whose noble human qualities he later on felt constrained to praise duly, had not lived up to the regulations of the Church) induced me to take the decisive step. Though I am now non-denominational, as it were, I still confess myself with all my heart a disciple of. Christianity as the religion of love and mercy -- which needs no revaluation, but rather a higher appreciation -- and I hope that in some time to come the different denominations will meet in this spirit, if not for a complete reunion, at least for a closer approach, a reconciliation.

II. Views and Researches

The following part of this paper has two aims: in the first place, to elucidate the purpose, methods, and results of my printed works, and, at the same time, to fill out, to supplement them, by connecting passages, so that the reader may find not disconnected fragments, but an integral whole through which the component parts, in turn, may be discerned and understood. If my presentation should seem dogmatic or even superficial, I hope that the reader will realize that this is not my usual procedure, and furthermore will find more detailed proofs in my writings.

First of all, let me say that the general tenor of all my views reflects the initial inspiration received from Brentano. To mention [p. 414] all points of agreement and dissent would take us too far afield. But it may be noted that the agreements pertain more often to earlier than to the later form of his teaching.

Überweg (Austria) says, in the paragraph referring to Husserl, that I had started with Brentano, but later showed a closer approach to Husserl. That sounds as if Husserl's influence had changed my point of view in certain respects. This is, however, not the case. My deviations from Brentano's theories were the result of an internal, constant mental development. The pupils of Brentano naturally have many things in common in consequence of the same starting-point; many others, however, because of the necessity of changes, additions, and continuations simultaneously felt by those who proceed in the same direction.

1) Definition of Philosophy. However one may formulate the difference between mind and nature, everybody distinguished them in some manner. The philosopher, however, looks for what they have in common. Thus philosophy is primarily the science of things in general, or metaphysics, to which the gateway is epistemology. But that philosophers since olden times have generally regarded psychology as belonging to their proper field is due to the fact that psychic elements have been much more prominent than the physical in forming fundamental metaphysical conceptions. Therefore, it is to the point to define philosophy as the science of the most common laws of the psychical, and of the real, in general (or conversely). This is the only way in which we can justify the inclusion of logic, ethics, aesthetics, philosophy of law, pedagogy, and other branches in the domain of the philosophical sciences; the connecting link is always essentially psychology, which, therefore, must not forget -- absorbed in experimental detail -- the nobler phenomena of mental life which cannot be investigated in this manner and the great general questions.

2) History of Philosophy. Brentano's system of the four phases in which, so far, each of the three periods of philosophy since Thales has taken its course -- a growing phase, wherein theoretical interests and empirical methods predominate, a decline caused by the smothering influence of some popular philosophy of life, followed by a skeptical and, finally, a mystical reaction -- has always seemed to me a good key to the understanding of the development of philosophy, at least for antiquity and for modern times. In the Middle Ages the course [p. 415] was greatly modified by the influence of the Church and the authorized faith. Historical similarities or analogies are not laws of nature. Of course, the scheme cannot be applied blindly to all details (where would sophistry come in, for instance?), and "decline" does not mean that during such stages profound, ingenious, and important achievements were entirely lacking. Finally, we must not forget that classifications from many other points of view are possible, although I consider the methodological the most important.

My first effect was devoted to the history of philosophy: my treatise on Plato's Idea of the Good and his conception of God. I tried to eliminate the contradiction between that philosopher's personal religious attitude and his philosophical system which Zeller had maintained by re-establishing Aristotle's conception of ideas as entities intrinsically different from concrete objects, and at the same time proving the identity of God with the Idea of the Good. This latter theory, which, incidentally, is shared by Zeller, is generally admitted today; concerning the right conception of Ideas the strife continues. I still consider the realistic conception correct, and Gomperz, Winderband, and Apelt agree with me, while transcendental evanescence seems ingenious, but unhistorical. My presentation, it is true, assumed too much of a closed system, and paid too little attention to the changes conditioned through Plato's course of development, especially the deviations in his last works for which philological methods have now given us a more complete understanding.

Among my later works, the two concerning the ancient theory of music (1897) contain many detailed discussions of passages in the text which have some importance for the history of philosophy, but have apparently not been noticed by my colleagues,

Two decades later, after much experimental work, I wrote a treatise on Spino