vol. 57 No. 4 APRIL 1952 Threepence

Notes of the Month Custos

The Story of South Place—III

What is Existentialism? Hector flawton

Man and Nature II'. E. Swinton

Some Problems of Party Politics Lord Chorley

Science and the Social Process D. U,. Macrae

The Problem of Humour Professor J. C. Hugel

Correspondence South Place News

Society's Activities S_OLITH PLA'CE ETHICAL SOCIETY SUNDAY MORNIING MEETINGS AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK

April 6—ARCHIBALD ROBERTSON, M.A.—"The Ethics of Belief" Bass Solos by G. C. DoNvaty: Loveliest of Trees Somervell Pilgrim's Song Tschaikowsky Hymn: No. 1 - April I3—EASTER—CLOSED April 20—S. K. RATCLIFFE—"H. G. Wells a Revaluation" ' Piano Solo by ARVON DAVIES : Sonata in F sharp. Op. 78 .. .. Beethoven Hymn: No. 11 • April 27—JOSEPH McCABE—"History and its Pessimists" Violin and Piano by MAROOF MACDHRION and FREDERIC JACKSON: Sonatina . Dvorak Hymn: No. 46 (Tune 212) QUESTIONS AFTER THE LECTURE

Admission Free Collection

SOUTH PLACE SUNDAY CONCERTS, 61s1 SEASON Concerts 6.30 p.m. (Doors open 6.0 p.m.) Admission Is. April 6—MACG1BBON STRING QUARTET Beethoven in F. Op. IS, No. I : Haydn in G. Op 77, No. I : Dohnanyi in p flat, Op 15.

April 13—NO CONCERT

April 20—LONDON HARPSICHORD ENSEMBLE Bach Flute Sonata in E, Trio in C minor from The Musical Offering, W. F. Bach flute trio in D; Sammartini 'cello and harpsichord Sonata in G ; Handel violin and harpsichord Sonata in A; Haydn flute trio in C minor; Murrill Suite Française for - harpsichord.

April 27—CONCERT IN AID OF THE MUSICIANS' BENEVOLENT EUNI). ALEEIT STRING QUARTET. KENNETH ESSEX Mozart in B flat, 1(458 ; Smetana "Ana Meinern Leben" String Quartets Beethoven in C, Op, 29. String Quintet. THE 62nd SEASON WILL BEGIN ON OCTOBER..5, 1952

The Monthly Record is posted free to Members and Associates. The Annual charge to subscribers is 4s. 6d. Matter for publication in the April issue should reach the Editor, G. C. DOwMAN, Conway Hall, Red Lion Square, W.C.I. by March 10. We regret that the increase in the cost of postage has compelled us to charge 4s. 6d. per, annum for subscribers to the Monthly Record.

The Objects of the Society are the siudy and dissemination of ethical principles - and the cultivation of a rational religious sentiment. Any person in sympathy with these objects is cordially invited to become a Member . ' (minimum annual subscription is 10s.), or Associate (minimum annual -subscription 5s.). Associates are not eligible to vote or hold office. Enquiries should be made of .the . Registrar to whoni subscriptions should be paid. ' " The MONTHLY RECORD

Vol. 57 No. 4 APRIL 1952 Threepence

CONTENTS PAGE

NOTES OF THE MON1H 3

THE STORY OF SOUTH PLACE—HI . 4

WHAT IS EXISTENTIALISM? !lector newton 9

MAN AND NATURE, W. E. Swinton I I

SOME PROBLEMS OF PARTY POLITICS, Lord Charley 13 SCIENCE AND THE SOCIAL PROCESS, a G. Macrae 17 THE PROBLEMOF HUMOUR. Prof. J. C. Plage] .. 18

CORRESPONDENCE .. 20 SOUTH PLACE NEWS .. 21

SOCIETY'S ACTIVITIES 23

The views expressed in this journal are not necessarily those of the Society. -

Notes of the Month

All members of the Society will learn with sincere regret that Professor G. W. Keeton has been compelled to resign his position as regular lecturer for reasons of health. Professor Keeton has long imposed a great strain upon himself by participating in many activities apart from his heavy responsibilities at London University, where he is head of the Faculty of Law. Late last year he made a journey to South Africa, which prevented him from lecturing for us on Sunday mornings, and on his return he had to fate the hard fact that he must cut down some of his work or take unpleasant consequences. It was impressed upon him that it was parti- cularly advisable that he should rest during the week-end. Therefore, with° considerable reluctance, he informed the Committee that he wished to resign, as he did not care nominally to accept duties that were impossible to carry out. He felt that it was impossible for him, in the circumstances, to pull his weight, and it was with equal regret that the Committee has accepted his decision. We all hope that Professor Keeton will benefit by the rest and speedily be restored to full strength. His monthly addresses were greatly enjoyed, and he has such a profound knowledge of the international scene that they were of no mere ephemeral value. It is to be hoped that., although he is no" longer a regular. lecturer, he will occasionally return to our plat- 3 -s.

form when he is able to do so. We are grateful for his deep interest in the Society, and are glad indeed of ,thc assurance that it remains unabated.

Ethics and Sport Dr. Edith Summerskill's campaign against •boxing is hardly likely to succeed, but it draws attention to a lamentable state of affairs. The weight of medical evidence pointing to the permanent harm done by blows to the head with modern gloves is impressive. Indeed, some boxing experts have gone as far as to suggest that the old-fashioned bare-fist contests were less brutal, and that the use of gloves allows punishment to be administered that would be impossible if the hands were not protected. A disquieting feature of some recent exhibitions has been the relish with which the visible damage has been described in newspaper reports. A short step farther and we shall approach the mood of a gladiatorial show. It ought not to be impossible to reform the present rules in such a way that the elements, , of sport are retained and the appeal to sadism eliminated. Risks must be accepted in all sports. What is unwholesome is to enjoy the spectacle of other people's danger f rom a position of safety. It is not sport but decadence to find pleasures in watching a man being battered into premature senility —and that, after all, is what the term "punch-drunk" really means. A Candidate for Sainthood The' Roman calendar of Saints grows year by year, and the Pope has already announced three canonisations for 1952. We are indebted to the Rome correspondent of the 'Manchester Guardian for a description- of the elaborate procedure involved. There is never any lack of claimants. In almost every country outside the Russian sphere groups of postulants are engaged in the search for candidates and the work of inquiry and classifica- tion is conducted in conclave by the Congregation of Rites. The postulants sign petitions in great numbers and collect evidence of maily kinds in support. A monetary contribution is expected with the signature to cover the high cost of the suit. Two censors are appointed for the first examina- tion, along with a Promotor Generalis Fidei or Devil's Advocate. The claims, of course, are based upon every kind of evidence, and it is mit surprising that the initial inquiry is fatal to all save a few. One especially interesting example is cited, Dr. Giuseppe Moscati, who practised for many years in the Naples hospital for incurables. To a fair-minded outsider he would seem to have a good case, since his career of self-sacrifice was upheld by shining graces of character. Thc Devil's Advocate, however.- brought out a single damaging circumstance. A colleague testified that on a certain night in Budapest he conducted Dr. Moscati and others to "a house of great luxury and evil repute". The motive of the visit, presumably, was scientific, -but the place offended the doctor and he stayed for no longer than a minute of two. Here, however, is a serious snag, for the doctor and his guide were exposed to "the extremely close peril of mortal sin". CUSTOS The Story of South Place—III W. J. FOX 1N HIS PRIME THE OPENINGOF South Place in 1824 -was a cardinal event in the annals ot the Society and especially in the career of William Johnson Fox. The new chapel took its -place at once as a vigorous centre of liberal religion and intellectual activity. -Its situation was favourable. During the first part of the 19th century the City was still a residential area. Many old families held 4 on to their houses in the shadow of St. Paul's .or the Bank of England. For instance, George Grote, the historian of Greece, lived in Threadneedle Street and Elizabeth Fry was close at hand. The immediate neighbourhood of South Place was not without design. Its features were similar to those of Bloomsbury. Finsbury Square, Circus, and Pavement had been recently laid out,making an attractive quarter for well-to-do City people.Fox himself settleci in Hackney. He had many nonconformist neighbours who looked upon South Place and Gravel Pit chapels as twin centres of free religion. The villages lying between Limehousc and Stoke Newington were providing suburban retreats for householders who could afford to live at the distance of a stage or carriage drive from office or warehouse. In years to come Fox • was to make a special reputation by his lectures to working men. But the South Place congregation was mostly in comfortable circumstances and, of necessity, a fair percentage was drawn from the eastern districts. Both the Society and its minister benefited gieatly by the removal from Bishopsgate. Instead of a pulpit in an obscure passage Fox noW had .the advantage of an adequate building on a site suited to many purposes besides the Sunday services which began to make a wide and unusual appeal. To begin with, of course, Fox was pre-eminently the preacher. Fame came to him in London from his sermons which, alike in substance and delivery, were far above the pulpit level of his time. The late-Georgian epoch is not remembered as a period of great preachers, and it is accurate to say that the more liberal churches were served by men who were not mainly valued on account of eloquence. When Starting in the new chapel Fox had one rival, a Scotsman of singular genius who was a sharp contrast to him in everything—in creed and method, in physique and personality A few months before the opening of South Place Edward Irving had entered upon the meteoric episode of Hatton Garden. His success was sensational. The street was blocked with carriages. Parliament and the West End joined in tribute. be Quincey wrote that he was by many degrees the greatest of living orators. Irving's gifts were most rematkable, but he was a wild visionary. He was mentally unbalanced. Within a few years he •as lost in the gloom of messianic prophecy and the idiocy of "unknown tongues". He was grotesquely out of place in the London of Reform agitation and his end was a pitiful tragedy. About Fox there was nothing meteoric or flashy. His talent for public discourse was unsurpassed. Before he reached forty his eloquence was of the first quality and it was matched by constructive force and finish. For some years he made a difference between sermon and lecture, but gradually his Sunday addresses were freed altogether from the sermonic note. He retained the formal text for some years. So long as he kept the denominational tie he enjoyed theological con- troversy. As a young minister he crossed swords with his old college principal, Dr. Pye Smith, and he printed a number of polemical sermons. "The Apostle John, a Unitarian" is a good example in that mode. Perhaps his most notable characteristic as a master of pulpit method was his liking for series of discourses. This practice was maintained until the end of his ministry. He began with a re-examination of the life and teachings of . Jesus, and went on to a rational reyiew of the historic Church doctrines. Subjects of this kind provided a major part of his .material throughout the 1820s, together with "Christian Morality: Sermons on the Principles of Morality inculcated in the Holy Scriptures, and their Application to the Present Condition of Society". A title of this cumbrous kind was in accord with English fashion for centuries; and noting the prominence of New Testament themes, we should remember that during the.first half of his long service Fox was known as a Unitarian Christian. 5 - The Orator We have a good many descriptions of Fox's appearance in the pulpit and the style of his oratory. He was short and broad. No observer appears to have recorded his exact height; but we know that when speaking away from South Place he always took care to see that the rostrum was right. It is certain that the question of inches had some bearing upon decisions taken in respect of his public life. It would seem probable that he measured less than 5ft. 4in. He was dark, with black hair parted down the middle and worn long. He had fine eyes and thick eyebrows. His voice was of beautiful quality, and every one who recorded impressions of the chapel made mention of his perfect elocution. Iiazlitt, writing in 1824, has this to say: "There is a Mr. Fox, a dissenting minister, as fluent a speaker, with a sweeter voice and a more animated and beneficent countenance than Mr. Irving, who is the darling of his congregation ; but he is no more, because he is diminutive in 1 person. His head is not seen above the crowd the length of a street off. He is the Duke of Sussex in miniature; but the Duke of Sussex does not go to hear him preach, as he attends Mr. Irving, who rises up against him like a martello tower." There is a more detailed sketch in a book of 1841, Portraits of Public Characters by James Grant, afterwards editor of the Morning Advertiser: "His elocution is remarkable for its chasteness. Hc is one of thc most correct speakers I have ever heard. The most fastidious literary taste could not detect a flaw in his style, nor the finest ear a defect in his delivery. .. His utterance equally avoids the opposite faults of rapidity and slowness. He never hesitates, never stammers, and very rarely has occasion to recall a word. To address his - audience seems to him the easiest and most natural thing in the world." Grant, a hard Calvinist, had however one reservation. He said that Fox habitually made the mistake of treating his hearers as though they were rational creatures, making no sort of appeal to "their feelings, passions. or prejbdices", and he has one positive criticism: "His matter is in perfect accord with the coldness of his manner. It is only by the movement of his lips and the sound of his voice that you perceive that he is speaking . . . Persons only of a highly trained mind can listen to him with any pleasure". Grant was right enough in saying that Fox appealed to the intelligence, but he was clearly off the mark in finding him cold. There is no lack of glow in his printed discourses, and obviously no frigid preacher could gain and hold the loyalty of a congregation. As to Fox's manner there is a pleasant memory in a remark of Carlyle's to ,Moncure Conway. His ' eloquence, said he, was like, opening a window through London fog into the blue sky. But, he added, "1 went away feeling that Fox has been summoning those people to sit in judgment on matters of which they were no judges at all." Conway ventured a word of correction. He 'pointed out that the orator was addressing an audience he had been educating for years, and further, that he was doing needed work in teaching the teachers. The methods of a masterly speaker are always interesting. Until he reached middle life Fox wrote all his discourses although, it would appear, he was soon able to deliver them with relative freedom from the 'manuscript. During the latter half of his career he never read. His lectures and Sunday addresses were prepared in full shorthand notes, and for publication were usually copied out by Eliza Flower, his devoted amanuensis. Long experience on the political platform was, of course, an invaluable aid in the development of his extempore gift We shall see later, in connection with the Free Trade agitation, how it revealed in full what his varied experiences had done for him in the way of handling and impressing great audiences. - His activities after the opening of the new chapel were those of a leader in many progressive causes. He was a vigorous ally of the societies working for popular education. He was no less outspoken for the civil rights of Roman Catholics and Jews than for the removal of the grievances which had become intolerable to Dissenters. When the Test 6 Acts were repealed the year before Catholic emancipation the most notable celebrations in London were held under the ausPices of South Place. A large dinner at one or other of the centres used for political festivity was a regular feature of such occasions; and it was noted with gratifica- tion, that women were for the first time admitted as guests instead of being restricted to the gallery. During these years Fox, as a founder of the Unitarian Association, occupied a prominent position in the movement and was writing on various subjects in the Monthly Repository, the denominational magazine which he was soon to transform.

The Flower Family Meanwhile events of much consequence were happening in Fox's personal life. They arose directly from his friendship with Benjamin Flower of Great Harlow. This modest citizen holds a place of honour in the long struggle for a free Press. In the 1790s he was editor of the Cambridge Intelligencer, one of the few independent papers in the provinces. On the literary side he was open-minded, for he printed six poems by Coleridge. He was steadily hostile to the war policy against revolutionary France, and for this reason was made the victim of an outrageous prosecution. Summoned by the House of Lorcg for attacking (as Wordsworth had done) the views of Bishop Watson of Llandaff, he was sentenced to six months' imprisonment and a fine of 1100. In Newgate he was visited by Eliza Gould, a young woman already known to him, head of a small private school in Devonshire. This post she was obliged to give up on account of her refusal to cease subscribing to the Intelligencer. On Flower's . release they were married, and when his editorship was lost they removed to Great Harlow, Essex, where Flower resumed his business as a printer. They had two daughters—Eliza, born in 1803, Sarah in 1805. The mother died in 1810. Flower was a strict Unitarian who preached occasionally. He was known to the leaders and particularly to the families living round Hackney, where his young daughters were welcome visitors. He. held original ideas of education and taught the girls himself, with the aid of such tutors aS could be found at Harlow. They were eager readers of poetry affid devoted to Shake'speare readings, in which Fox was prominent. In 1823, when recover- ing from his breakdown, he accepted an invitation to preach in Edinburgh and a group of friends seized the opportunity of arranging a holiday in the Highlands. The little company included Dr. Southwood Smith, after- wards eminent in the field of public health, with Flower and his daughters, aged twenty and eighteeen. An affectionate intimacy began with this Scottish tour. Four years.later Flower retired from business and removed to Dalston where Fox was then living. He died in 1829, leaving the girls to_the guardianship of his friend. For a time they were inmates of his house, and their unusual talents, perfectly complementary the one to the other, became inestimable to South Place. Eliza was a musical genius, wholly spontaneous, who composed from childhood. Sarah, equally facile in prose and verse, was to reach a place of distincition among English hymn-writers. They were a pair of singing birds; beautiful, intelligent, sensitive, well-read. The Fox circle was at that time being enlarged by the addition of several young writers who were later to be famous, and one of these, then in his teens, played a part whose significance could not have been foreseen by any one of the associates. Young Robert Browning found his way to Hackney. where a delightful new experience awaited him. His.father, an official of the Bank of England, had in the neighbourhood a colleague whom he visited not infrequently. They touched a more liberal religious atmosphere than they were accus- 7 tomed to in Camberwell. Young Robert liked walking over, enjoying the sights of the City en route. The Flower sisters were delighted with him. He played the Piano with them and read poetry, including his own juvenile efforts. They were astonished by the ease and maturity of his talk, and the younger sister was gravely disturbed by the freedom of his religious opinions. This, we may note, was a year or more before the youth, after reading Shelley,- had broken 'away from the parental fold (they were orthodox nonconformists), declaring himself an atheist and vegetarian. In -November 1827, Sarah Flower sent Fox an earnest letter- which, in Moncure Conway's opinion, had the effect of stimulating the minister's inquiries and hastening the movement of his mind away from the formal Unitarianism with which thus far he had been content. Like everything that came from a Flower pen, this is a beautiful piece of writing. It begins with the avowal of a fear that Fox may be hurt by the confession of one whom he could "little suspect guilty of the heinous sin of unbelief". Her mind had been wandering for a long time, and now it "seems to have lost sight of that only invulnerable hold against the assaults of this warring world, a firm belief in the genuineness of the Scriptures". She goes on to say that she ' believes in an all-wise and Omnipotent Being, and since this involves "the conviction that everything is working for good", It brings her a "comfort that she would not resign for the world". The clemd, she explains, has come over her gradually, and she adds: "It was in answering Robert Browning that my mind refused to bring forward argument, turned recreant, and sided with the enemy". She continues that at the Norwich Festival she learnt how this change, of mind had affected her enjoyment of Handel and (as was usual in that age) had brought to her "the bitterest sensation of sadness, almost remorse". The letter has an especially interesting conclusion. She says that she dare not apply to her father, for she knew how rigid, he was "in his ideas of all kinds of unbelief". She looks back upon an ideal girlhood: "My life has been like a set of gems on a string of gold; a succession of bright and beautiful things without a dark thread to dim their lustre. But it will not be always thus. It is not thus now." She feels that she has not examined as far as in her lay, and she asks Fox to direct her inquiries and recom- mend books that he deems advisable. He alone shares her confidence. 'The writer of this letter, was an ardent young woman of twenty-two. The lad who had caused the distress she pours out was in his sixteenth year! We have no evidence that Sarah Flower suffered much or long from the upheaval, for the hymns by which she is remembered were all written in later years; but we may take Conway's word for it that the confession from his young friend was not without effect upon Fox's mind and action. He was in his early forties, a public teacher of great and growing influence. He was impatient of authority and moving fast. Moreover, the personal relation was developing. From this time onwards the Flowers were of central importance to him. It was not, however, the inquiring disciple who made the difference and altered the course of his life but her elder sister. (To be continued) What is Existentialism ? BY HECTOR HAWTON Six Existentialist Thinkers, By H. J. Blackham. koutledge and Kegan Paul. 15s. Tius is an important book, and the fact, that it is not easy reading is not the fault.of the author. The difficulty most of us feel in understanding what the Existentialists are driving at is partly due to their outrageous vocabulary, .8 •

partly to their lack of precision, and partly to the inability of anyone, in the nature of the case, to expound this philosophy without betraying it. . Existentialism is, in a sense, like the mysterious particles with which physics f now deals: to observe it is to destroy it. The charge which Existentialists bring against traditional philosophy is that reality is falsified by being reduced to a system. No matter what con- cepts are invented—being, objects, events, etc.—the traditional philosopher is in the position of a spectator. But to exist is not to look on. There is a factor left out of the usual accounts. A man is not in love with a bundle of atoms, or a strain in the space-time continuum, or a collection of sense- data, but with a person. What have theories of knowledge to say about this kind of knowledge? They leave it out because they cannot label it. The metaphysical rationalists argued: I think, therefore I am. The Existentialists follow Maine de Biran's amendment of this proposition: I will, therefore I am. What is left out of the spectator-philosophies is the Will. We are not merely onlookers, but actors and participants. To exist, in the mode of a human being and not a stone, is to choose. This implies that we are free to choose—absolutely free, according to Sartre. And so there are two incommensurables in the universe—objects like stones and tables and chairs which obey causal laws, and entities like men which are conscious and free. There is a radical dualism at the very heart of things, because these modes of being are discontinuous. In Existentialist language they are "contraries". Although Existentialism began as a revolt against Hegel, it by no means rejected everything the master taught. It retained the notion of contraries, or opposites; but whereas Hegel main- tained that these contraries could be resolved in a higher synthesis, the Existentialists deny that such a harmony is possible. Hegel thought there was a-way out, and that the universe was a logically coherent whole, or, in other words, that we are elements of an intelligible system. He was therefore a' rationalist. But the Existentialists regard this "way out" as a complete illusion. They assert that contraries are inherent and must be maintained, that reality is fundamentally incoherent, unintelligible, irrational. Consequently they are not specially interested in asking: What do I know? The vital question is nearer to the religious demand: What shall I do to be saved? Herein lies their difficulty. If they tell us what to do, they give us an item of knowledge, and any knowledge which is intelligible must be part of a system. Kierkegaard, for example, denounces the sort of Christianity that can be taught, reduced to formulx, recited as a creed. That is all external. We can see his point and sympathise with it, and yet how can he help refuting himself to be a Christian at all entails accepting the revela- flow once made (as She claims) to the Apostles? He speaks of the con- temporaneous Christ, immediately encountered in personal experience, and also of the historical Christ, who is read about. He is intensely conscious of the difficulty. But if reality is not coherent, rational considerations are beside the point. We must choose, not argue. Christianity, he says, is the Paradox, the Absurd. Credo quid absurehon, in the defiant words of Tertullian. • Suppose, however, we agree that the Great Choice is the mark of "authentic existence", and yet choose not to be Christians? This has hap- pened to some thinkers who have gone down a perilous road. If we accept Pascal's Wager—either God is or He is not—we may, with Nietzsche, Heidegger and Sartre, choose that God is not. What then? If argument is impossible, by the terms of reference, there is no more to be said—although it is astonishing how much the Existentialists still find to say. The dilemma (as it would appear by ordinary standards) is stark in the field of morals. 9 Nietzsche seized on the new freedom and urged a "transvaltiation of all values". This meant for him a praise of "the blond beast", and exaltation of cruelty as "one of the oldest festive joys of mankind". He preferred Cesare 'Borgia, as a hero, to Jesus or Francis of Assissi. Why not, if choice is free? The French Existentialists today have tried desperately to find a way out of this situation. They make the men of their Resistance their heroes, but it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that it cannot much matter what one resists as long as one goes on resisting. Indeed, although Sartre took an active part in the Resistance,. Heidegger, his master, was loud in his praise of Hitler, whose irrationalism and lightning choices earned him full marks for ,"authenticity". Lucifer and the rebel angels were surely the first

Ex istentialists. A Mr. Blackham shows how Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Jaspers, Marcel, Sartre and Heidegger deal with these, and many other formidable difficulties. He succeeds admirably in his main task, which is to exhibit the very intimate relationship between thinkers who, at first sight, may seem to have little in common. Some are atheists, some Catholics, some nco-Calvinists; but, as he says. "they form a natural family". They do so because of ,their emphasis on volition rather than intellect, and their revolt is against reason and systematic thinking. As he puts it: "These are permanent types of thought and attitude, deeper than any formal doctrine or belief. As pure types, they show excesses and deficiencies which thc various forms of com- promise escape; and they show dramatic qualities which only pure forms can have. If this analysis is sound, Existentialism is not (as some think) an hysterical symptom of the irrationalism associated with the violence and disintegration of our time: it is a contemporary renewal of one of the necessary phases of human experience in a conflict of ideals which history has not yet resolved." He claims that it deserves to be taken more seriously than academic philosophers have done so far. "For it is easy, too easy, to satirise: it guys itself. Two sentences chopped out of L'Erre et le Neant, like a decapitated cockerel running round in a circle, will provide sport for all any day of the week. . . . To take this philosophy either as romantic pessimism or as a work of reactionary defence is the completest misunder- standing: it is essentially a work of salvage and salvation. But it excels in protest, challenge, warning, reminder, and is not an adequate constructive effort." The final essay on "A philosophy of personal existence", in which this passage occurs, "is not intended as a critical assessment-, we are told:, a welcome warning, perhaps, that despite his evident sympathy with some trends in the authors he is interpreting, Mr. Blackham has not made the choice to throw in his lot with them. But they obviously fascinate him, and the compatibility of this type of thinking with Humanism is a question which Mr. Blackham is uniquely qualified to answer. My own view is that Existentialism is the polar opposite to Humanism, and although I am deeply impressed by the brilliance of Mr. Blackham's exposition. he has not persuaded me that I am wrong. He sees in this approach "a call to heroism", and contends that "that is why it has so little to do with average hopes and with the themes of an earlier Humanism". I myself trust it will have, little to do with the themes of the new Humanism, or the latter may be strangled at birth. I fear that to some extent I shall incur Mr. Blackham's scorn in this respect. "Even in these days", he writes, "academic groves are cool and sequestered, and it is understandable that in such quarters a pulpit philosophy should be resented and deplored, for the new friars, more frothily corruptive of youth than ancient sophists, let loose an immense untidiness and with uncouth shouts set up their morality show and parade •the hectic of disease and the scandal of .sin against a baCkcloth of the vast and the vague. Nothing could be 10 more annoying, more offensive to the taste of a chaste intellect. Except of course that it is fun to dispose of it by neat snips with the scissors of logic in a magazine article, or to dry it up in a lecture by judicious dabs of an astringent wit, or even to jolly well put it in its place by persistent snubs in reviews. When all is said, however, these six thinkers remain formidable persons, marvellously gifted, highly trained, masters of Western culture. with exceptional seriousness of purpose and a profound personal experience." The quality of their personal experience is not irrelevant, as it might be with philcisophers who. offer a coherent, logical system* and challenge us to find the flaws. Indeed, it is part of the existentialist case that a man's life and his writings form a whole, hence the autobiographical literary style. Kierkegaard wrote: "Because Christianity is not a doctrine, it is not a matter of indifference, as it would be in the case of a doctrine, to know who expounds it, provided he (objectively) says what is correct. If Christianity it not reproduced in the individual who expounds it, then he is not expounding Christianity, which can only be expounded by existence." Therefore I feel it was a mistake to relegate the lives of these six thinkers to brief biographical notes at the end of the book. The personal experi- ences which some of them had—and the experiences of their disciples— may have been profound, but they do not inspire much confidence in me. Yet, when these criticisms have been made, it must be said again that Mr. Blackham has written a book rich in intellectual excitement, subtle in imaginative understanding, amazingly lucid in its presentation of the obscurest thinkers who have ever lived. He has got inside the skin of his subjects and makes us feel the very throb of their passionate intensity. It is the high-level interpretation that was needed, and the publishers are justified in describing it as "the first serious effort in English to reach a sympathetic understanding of Existentialism as. a movement-.. Man and Nature B Y

W . E. SWINTON MAN AND NATURE are inextricably mixed; dust to dust. One arises literally from the other; they are in league and in conflict; protagonists and products. We think that we know much about man, but Nature is still full of mysteries. The earth and its products, the air, sea and land, the howling of the wind and the thunder of the avalanche, the song of the birds and the poison of the adder, are all parts of a whole in which we as living beings are involved. Our involvement is obvious, but have we in this scheme a predestined place, a niche that can only be filled by man? Life has been defined as the struggle between an organism and its environment, the environment being the other plants and animals, the climate and the nature of the ground itself. The success of any individual or group largely depends 'upon its adaptability, to the conflicting claims and effects of this outer influence; although, of course, there are internal problems in an organism that determine its prospects of success or failure. Life itself is a product of the air, the -water and the chemicals 'that existed in solution in the primordial sea, whose constitution we .can still determine• from the composition of our blood. From this beginning the long ladder of life has extended upwards throughout 2.000 million years. This vast period has seen the rise of many strange kinds of animals and plants, some few of which have survived, but most of which have flourished and decayed like a flower in the lateness of the summer. It is Life itself that has survived, the animals and plants of old being merely the vehicles it has occupied for part of its immense journey. The geological record, which alone gives us a satisfactory glimpse of the history of living things, shows us the discarded forms of life much as the car-breaker's yard shows us the automobiles of earlier years. And a close study of the rise and fall of these •ast forms of life shows that extinction has' been almost entirely - due to the effects of the environment. Today many details of the past history of animals are well known. We even know the diseases from which many of them suffered, but disease is part of the environment, composed of, or caused by, competing forms of life. Accident from time to time affected many but cannot be accepted as the cause of extinction, except in very small communities on rare occasions. On the whole, ho-wever, the unending struggle for survival is characteristic of all forms of life and it is upon this fact that such generalised, and Pot always accurate, phrases as the "survival of the fittest" are based. With earlier kinds of men the effects of environment can be clearly seen. At first man was an ape-like creature with rather more intelligence than the great apes themselves, subject to the trials and vicissitudes of animal life but endowed with strong arms and the basis of this higher intelligence which together were to lead to his rapid promotion. The development of speech, which arose naturally from his greater intelligence,

- does not constitute a real line of demarcation, for we know too little about animal communications to be dogmatic about this; but it did form an enormously important step on the way to history which is shared experience. Men were at first hunters, and as such little removed in thought and action from the highest of their animal contemporaries, for they were depen- dents of Nature, following where food attracted and the climate allowed. The development of farming, even at its most primitive, was the beginning of a new age, but one that is not-much more than ten thousand years old, which emphasises how recent is the emancipation of man. Now food was to be -plucked from the stationary soil and not pursued, and in this simple fact we see the emergence of man as a part controller of the environment, As hunter he was successful and was gaining some measure of control over the larger fauna in competition with himself; as farmcr he was further' obtaining control over the plants and taming, to some extent, the soil. Climate was as yet beyond his reach and long after that day, even into modern times, men have been constrained by the forces of temperature and by forms of disease from geographical conquest and expansion. Among civilised men the isotherm of seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit was for long a limit of settlement. Yet, in our modern days, we have seen the continents united, the hills levelled, the deserts irrigated and the seas subdued. Climate still remains a barrier to some extent and some authorities maintain that it is the con- trolling factor in our lives. On the other hand the Americans have made settlements near the North Pole and the peoples of the Soviets have con- quered their Arctic wastes. Man may therefore claim that to a very,large extent he has subdued the surroundings that held an iron rule over all his evolutionary predecessors The realisation of his new freedom •is celebrated by the retention of superstitions dating from the sun-worshipping days of his ancestry and as his loneliness has dawned on him he has created, perhaps subconsciously, new restrictions, rather as an anxiety neurotic surrounds himself with fresh • fears. It is true that many of his restrictions are purely artificial but they are, at least they are accepted, as forbidding as any concrete wall. The very circumstances of their origin create misgivings and we may therefore examine briefly but critically this new environment—new "climate" to use the phrase of the moment. Restrictive advicos and practices fall into two main groups; real and illusory. The former are based upon common experience. Since in the world ' men have to live together, it is natural that there have grown ,up conventions 12 that help them to smooth the rough corners off each other and to live more happily. In such a life no individual 6an be really free for freedom in one might mean interference with and danger to another. Morals belong really to this class. Darwin (in The Descent of Mon) has shown that they developed as a natural consequence of the social evolutionary process. - Social organisation and the moral code are inextricably mixed and would seem to owe1ittle to the supernatural. None the less, there are beliefs that are inculcated today as truths allegedly as natural as the rising and the going down of the sun, beliefs that on analysis are clearly seen to be false: such theories for example as the Nazi blood superiority: the "class distinctions- instilled into other natiOns, and the beliefs of innumerable sects with all their fears and hopes. Nothing is easier to believe than the fears instilled into the ears of tender youth en masse. Nothing spreads so readily as hate. In a •world that has become almost wholly selfish and grasping it is strange that the virtues • I of fellowship and kindness are less obvious that many other attributes that are no more natural. Despite the passage of the years since Darwin's Origin of Species was published and for all the alleged advances in thought they have seen, there is yet need for a truly critical—a really rational—outlook and a closer attempt to understand the implications of man's place in nature. Spencer's plea for a grounding in Natural Science is still worth sounding. Natural History is not so-Called for nothing, though the historical aspect is too frequently forgotten. Despite the advantages that are to be gained from a knowledge of history and a wide acquaintance of the odds against which we are inevitably pitted, which is Natural History in effect, we are separatists. We are born alone and we must die alone, though we live as individuals in a community that tries to live as an entity. That we are born with equal rights goes without saying; and we are surely also born with equal responsibilities to contribute so far as we are able to help the common stock to survive. This does not mean that every other form of life must be destroyed and that man should reign as a communal dictator. Tf the study of nature shows anything it shows that the stimulus of environment is healthy and that the creature absolved from some form of daily competition frequently dies away. Man may well observe the balance of nature and. kill only for food or self-defence. There is no historical warrant for wanton destruction or for so-called sport which involves killing for killing's sake. If man's evolution from animal to a social being has produced a con- temporaneous growth of civil law and order, it does not mean that all the hibitatory-pleas and attempted laws are equally necessary. Many of the ;atter are solely for the maintenance of organisations that exist on illusory grounds. The social structure of today is unnecessarily burdened with stig- mata that should never have •been applied and the great advantage of a study of the physical and social evolution of man is that it refreshes the mind and should prove instructive on the true and the false in the future directions of his progress. (Summary of 'an address delivered on February 7) Some Problems of Party Politics B Y • THE RT. HON. LORD CHORLEY- THE PROBLEM which I wish to discuss this morning is in the main the old one of party politics, though it includes subsidiary matters of sortie ethical importance which stem from the main problem. Decent and unreflecting people invariably condemn party politics, and still 13 more party politicians. I do not, of course, wish to convey that decent people are always unreflecting, or indeed the converse. There are decent people who _ give a good deal of thought to the problems of politics, and who still con- demn the party system, but on the whole I think they are only a minority of the people who give Much thought to the subject. These latter fall into two classes: those who accept party politics as an unavoidable if unpleasant necessity in politics, and those who, on the contrary, regard the dialectic of party politics as one of the most valuable instruments of democratic government. Let us examine each of these points of view for a few minutes. The argu- ment of the decent unreflecting person, very often a woman, is that the best people ought to be the government. Under the party system the best people arc divided into two or more hostile camps, one, or a group, of which, form the government, so that the nation is deprived of the services of some of its most capable sons. Moreover, so this argument continues, having got all our best men into the government we ought to leave them lo get on with the job of governing. But instead of doing so about half of the best men, those who are not in the government, devote all their time to trying to prevent the other.half, those who form the government, from effectively governing the country. Again, those who are out seem to the ordinary individual to be morc interested in serving their own or their party's advantage, rather than that of the community as a whole. While even those who form the government often seem to have more than half an eye on promoting their own interest instead of being dominated by the single purpose of securing the advantage of the State. Thus the existence of the party system seems to lead to a good deal of ethical misconduct, and, from a practical point of view, to' interfere with the most effective conduct of the nation's business. This picture is, of course, much too simple, though there is a certain rough truth in the drawing of it. Certainly this view has been widely held in all countries where anything in the nature of a party systein has developed. Macaulay's well-known lines: "Then -none was for a party; Then all were for the State," reflect a nostalgic feeling for a golden age: a golden age which never existed, but a nostalgic feeling which was no doubt as familiar to the citizens of Athens or of Rome as it is to Englishmen and Frenchmen in our own times. Such a golden age never existed, because in actual practice as soon :c a community develops beyond the most primitive stage, group interests arise, and the existence of such group interests inevitably gives rise to a struggle for power. Even when there is what the Greeks called a tyrant, or what our history -books call an absolute monarch, there are groupings or parties formed either with the object of -overthrowing the tyrant or re- placing him by some other form of government, or, if he is too firmly based for any movement of the sort to succeed, there will be rival groups competing for his favours and protection. In a free, or what we might call a liberal, State the groupings are less artificial, and almost, if not quite, invariably reflect economic interests. They then become definitely competitors for the control of the government of the State, because of course to control the government enables them to further and strengthen the interests which they have grown up to support. It is at the point in history when this sort of thing emerges that we get genuine party politics. It cannot be doubted that this is what really happens, though of course 14 party politicians never put it quite so crudley. Indeed it is common form with party politicians of all colours to assert that their only object is to promote the true interests of the community as a whole. That this is not - altogether their objective has been recognised by historians and writers on - politics for a long time, though it was Karl Marx who showed clearly for the first time how very much bound up with economic interest party alignments are apt to be. The development of party politics as a method of government is, on the face of it, markedly unethical in character. Yet it will nevertheless be accepted as an advance over the earlier stages at which an absolute monarch, or ,an aristocracy, whether ecclesiastical or lay, held sway: for however much it might be argued that a King or a Church was governing in the interest of the comthunity as a whole, in actual fact they governed in the interest of small, even minute groups, compared with the substantial interests which are invariably reflected by great nolitical: parties. When the Whig Party governed England in the 18th ceniury, for example, it reflected the interests not only of a small number of great noblemen, but those of an extensive and wealthy commercial class, of a large number of dissenters from the State church to be found among merchants, small tradesmen, and farmers, and of the rapidly growing industrialists. Nevertheless the unethical character of party politics is repellent to the ordinary unreflecting citizen, and he is not easily satisfied •with the answer which I have just given, viz, that the party system arises from the necessities - of life in free democratic communities. He is thus easily led into what I will call the totalitarian fold. I said earlier on that the people who deny the need for party politics do not all belong to the unreflecting part of the community. It appeared to Marx, for example, that in a classless society there would be none of the special ecOnomic interests which give rise to political parties. The class- less society was to be attained through the dictatorship of the proletariat, which not only formed much the largest part of the community but which also, as being under-privileged, was morally entitled to establish its authority over the exploiting bourgeoisie. This so-called dictatorship of the proletariat, wherever it has been established, has so far led to a totalitarian set-up which is certainly free of party politics but maintains itself by the use of force and terrorism in a way which seems to most people in this country even t-nore unethical than the party system itself. A similar result was attained under such leaders as Hitler and Mussolini, though here the parties were suppressed in the so-called interest of a number of nationalist States not of a proletariat. There is no need for me to analyse the fascist form of totalitarianism, it has been done so often. The short point is that, whether fascist or communist in character, the totalitarian State abolishes the party system by forcible, suppression, and often by the physical elimination of opposition leaders, a thoroughly unethical process. But there is a good deal more to be said in favour of the party system as operated in democratic communities, that is to say in communities in which ihe mass of the people have the right to select their governors. In the first place it means that persuasion must always be a large if not the major element in politics. The element of force with its backing of secret political police, Gestapos, Ogpus, and what you will shrinks to a minimum. Democracy of this kind has been called government by public opinion, and such a method again seems more ethical than that of force. Indeed it has been recognised even by the totalitarian leadership, by Hitler in particular, that •force alone is not enough, and that public opinion must be cajoled or manufactured. There is, of course, a great deal of cajoling 15 and manufacturing of public opinion in what we might call the free demo- cracies, and the more powerful the economic interests behind the political parties the greater the use of such methods. Nevertheless it has been proved more than once in this country, that however great may be the weight of the newspapers, and the other machinery for manufacturing public opinion which are in the control of one party, that party does not necessarily /' command success in an election. On the other hand there is no known case of a totalitarian party operating in a totalitarian State which has failed to win an election, or indeed to command over 90 per cent of the votes, and that, as Euclid would say, is absurd. The next point is that the existence of parties enables political policies to be placed effectively before the electors. Government must be carried on in accordance with a policy of one sort or another. In a democracy the people must have the right to choose the policy they prefer, but in order to make any sort of choice, they must have the various policies explained to them. In a totalitarian State the policy of the clique wielding power is put into effect. In a free democracy each party has its own policy, and its job is to persuade a majority of ,the electors that this policy is the best. • Now I have said earlier that political parties exist to further the interests of groups within the State. But it is not possible for any political party to pursue such an objective 100 per cent, or perhaps 50 per cent. In order to get a majority the party must have a policy which to a large degree is in the interest of the mass of the citizens, i.e. which makes an appeal to a wider group than that whose interests it primarily represents. This, though it results from the practical workings of politics, is one of the most valuable and broadening aspects of the whole business. For one thing it enables men of goodwill who are not primarily concerned with the interests of the particular group involved to play an active part in politics. Most of the influential leaders of the Labour Party in Great Britain have not come from the- proletarian class which that party was fdrmed• to represent. And while it may be true that some of them have joined the party for the sake of a political career, such a suggestion has never been made about outstand- ing personalities such as Clement Attlee and Stafford Cripps. What appears, therefore, to be the most repellent aspect of party politics is in the result profoundly moderated by the actual practice 'of politics, for any party which adopted a purely party policy would be so heavily defeated at the polls that its very existence would be threatened. The converse of explaining one's own policy is that of criticisine that of -one's opponent. The modern State is so complex, and the programmes of all governments are correspondingly so intricate, that it is almost impossible for the framers of them to envisage all the possible impressions. They must be subjected to searching examination and criticism which in the nature of things come most effectively from the parties on the other side. This. of course, means considerable delay, but such delay may save much time and more money in the end. For to travel rapidly and a long way up the wrong path is worse than not to have travelled at all. In the totalitarian States we have become accustomed to violent swings of policy resulting from just a lack of preliminary examination and criticism. Who can doubt, for example, that the progress of Russia in the 1930s would have been much more rapid but for the ruthless extermination of the kulaks which involved the slaughter of most of the cattle in the country? By the time Stalin ordered a change of policy in his famous "Dizzy with success" speech, it was too late to save the cattle, let alone the kulaks themselves who were, lifter all, skilled and enterprising farmers. Another advantage of the party system which has a very real ethical aspect is the. fact that no one party remains indefinitely in power. The opposition party must be prepared to assume powef, and put its own 16 policies into effect at any time. This means that these policies have to be kept practical. It also makes for moderation in criticism, and to a certain measure of respect and toleration for the actions of the other side, for if repeal of laws made by one party is carried beyond a certain point by the other party the whole system breaks down: the protagonists of one set of interests must have a certain respect for the interests to which they are opposed. Such eive and take has a certain appearance of dishonesty about it, and attracts the diatribes of totalitarian politicians of the Vyshinsky type. It is often difficult to persuade the extreme wings of the great political _parties to accept this principle, but the middle-of-the-road sections, in this country at any rate, appreciate its importance, and treat it as the equivalent of the rules of cricket. This explains why infractions of the rule such as that committed by Mr. Bevan when he called his opponents "vermin- call up such widespread censure, and make even his own associates feel hot under the collar. Such are some of the considerations which make the party system, if not the ideal of the starry-eyed young prophet, at any rate the least objection- able method of carrying on government which has yet to be worked out in this imperfect world. As.--E. M. Forster says in his recent book, it is a case for giving "two cheers". • (Summary of an address delivered on February 17) Science and the Social Process B Y D. G. MACRAE, M.A. THE Morro OF the London School of Economics and [Political Science is Rerun/ Cognoscere Causas. This phrase drawn from the greatest poet of science, Lucretius, demanding that we seek out the causes of things, sums up in three words the whole content of all scientific endeavour. But to Lucretius science was more than a search for pure knowledge: it was a search for that knowledge which will free man from the superstitious fear of the unknown and the arbitrary in the world of nature. In a word, science has a function of redemption as well as one in the field of know- ledge and practice. - In the first great age of modern science, the 17th century, the most splendid contribution in these Islands was the foundation of those physical theories which dominated thought and enquiry down to the 20th century. When in the early 18th century Voltaire visited England, he brought back 'to France as co-equals the teachings on the one hand of Newton, who had established the nature and order of the physical universe, and on the other, of Locke who, Voltaire held, had similarly established the nature and order of the world of man and society. Unfortunately Locke's achievement was not in fact comparable to that of Newton. His philosophical analysis of the social and, above all, of the political process was distinguished, but it was not. in any sense a social science. Science in the 18th century made its great strides in the fields of physics and chemistry, but the scientific study of society was largely neglected. In the 19th century things changed. Darwin brought science closer to man by introducing an order into the sciences of life such as hitherto had been found only in physics. Comte invented the word• sociology and began a scientific study of society. Everywhere there was the •belief that Lucretius had been right and that by the study of.science and the application of science to social affairs mankind could be liberated from the false terror of the supernatural and many of the material difficulties of life. It was in this belief that science was 'studied and pursued with such ardour in, for 17 - example, the Mechanics Institutes of the Victorian age. Never has the hope of redemption for human beings in society through the sciences been so strong, or apparently so well founded. Sixty years ago the transformation of physics itself began. In the realm of the almost infinitely small, Planck suggested difficulties and uncertainties which seemed to undermine the simplicity and clockwork perfection of a previous age. In the realm of the astronomically large, Einstein seemed to introduce contradiction and paradox as essential and unreconciled elements in the fabric of nature. The popularisers of the new physics were often men of strong religious belief. They argued that, as one had to accept much that was arbitrary and paradoxical in science and that as science itself could only proceed by making certain unprovable assumptions, so by this "nffirtal leap" all faith was justified. This argument, that there was only a difference of degree between the faith that underlay scientific action and the faith of the organised churches, became extremely popular. Where it was accepted at least half of Lucretius's hope seemed to become thinner and almost to vanish. Simultaneously our violent century drove, on through wars whose destructive powers were armed by the application of science, and it began to seem that, while science did not guarantee material well-being, it constantly brought Material destruction nearer to every part of social life. At the same time certain things were happening within the social struc- ture of science itself. Scientific method became more and more something that was learned and taught as a mere technology. As the number of scientists increased in answer to an increasing social demand, so did their calibre and perhaps something of their social estimation also fell. Specialisation increased greatly and area after area of the republic of science found itself cut off, so far as communication was concerned, from the other provinces of system- atic knowledge. Previously the loyalty of the scielitific republic had been proudly dedicated to truth and to the well-being of mankind. Now the loyalty became loyalty to the National State—a loyalty encumbered by increasing secrecy and the demands of politics and war. The status of the scientist as a servant of truth being a high one, as a servant of the State it could fall to the level of the member of the secret police. All this greatly aided the increased prestige of the forces of unreason in the social process and the counter-attack on science and on reason has mounted in impetus in our society. This does not mean Lucretius was wrong; but it does mean that the belief, in reason must be more strongly affirmed than ever today, and that one's hopes for a speedy realisation of the Lucretian ambition must be tempered by sobriety and expounded by a new patience. (Summary of an address delivered on March 2) The Problem of Humour B Y • PROFESSOR J. C. FLUGEL, D.Sc. SINCE THE FIRST days when man began to wonder about himself and his relation to the Universe he has been puzzled by his own capacity for laughter and by the nature of the situations and mental states which accompany laughter—the comic, the ludicrous, the droll, the funny, etc. It would be hopeless to attempt to review all the opinions which have been held concerning humour. One recent author gives a table indicating the emphasis laid by fifty-two eminent writers on sixteen factors •which have been suggested as operative in humour—and the list both of authors and of suggested factors is far from.complete. 18 One big problem concerns the relation of the comic to the physiological reaction of laughter and the nature and function of laughter itself. Laughter has been held by some (e.g. Darwin) as a natural expression of human joy (as weeping is of sorrow). As a happy dog wags its tail, the happy man wags his jaw, and emits curious sounds in so doing. Laughter is obviously allied to the smile, which can perhaps be regarded as a milder form of the expression of pleasure, but which is also a sign of friendliness. In monkeys, according to Darwin, the expression of pleasure and of affection is the same; laughter or smiling is, he says, observable in these animals on such occasions as: seeing a person to whom the animal is attached, tickling, presentation of food, reconciliation after a quarrel, caressing. Very similar situations produce the same reactions in human idiots. Observations on normal young children, which have been made from Pliny onwards, show that the smile precedes the laugh, the former appearing between the sixth and forty-fifth day, the laugh between the twerity-third and one hundred and eighteenth day after birth. In rather older children laughing may occur when chasing, romping, playing -ball, successfully

adjusting bricks, making quasi - musical sounds, teasing, tickling and being tickled. Summarising these situations, Piddington thinks they are all pleasur- able and interesting activities but do not too seriously call for instinctive responses of any particluar kind. The lack of "seriousness" shows a relation between laughter and play. Indeed, passing to adult manifestations, all wit and humour involve perhaps what might be broadly called a denial of the more serious aspects of reality, alike, as regards action, feeling and logic. Like play too, humour has usually been considered a safety valve; a means of releaSing,energy for whirl, there is no other immediate outlet. Sir Cyril Burt, one of the more recent exponents of this view, holds that the energy may be connected with any of the major instincts or emotions, when these have been aroused, but when the situation is perceived as making "serious"emotional activity unnecessary or inappropriate. Others have stressed the predominance of some particular emotion, such as superiority, aggression, fear or sex. Humour may also provide for a permissible and socially acceptable release of energy which has been subject to restraint or inhibition (as distinct 'from being unnecessary owing to outer circumstances). Many forms of wit and humour are directed aggressively against other individuals, against rulers or important persons, against public bodies or institutions, or even hgainst God and religion. Humour -is, too, a permissible form of retaliation and may thus replace aggression of a more active and dangerous kind. This is particularly the case as regards aggression •and sex, the indirect expression of -which tendencies would seem to provide the motive powcr of the vast majority of jokes. Humour is also a means of dealing with situations which could easily arouse sympathy with 'others or personal distress. Abraham.Lincoln said : "1 laugh because I must not cry" ahd many great humorists have emphasised the narrow margin which separates the comic from the tragic. According to Freud, in humour of this type we adopt the point of view of the parent or grown-up who can laugh away the (to him) petty sorrows of the child; there can be indeed an element of elevation or nobility in such humour which rises superior to human suffering and tragedy. Though, once again, there is a narrow boundary between humour of this kind and cynicism. Sexual humour has been divided by one author into three kinds: the "directed", which also usually involves an element of aggression or humila- tion; the "seductive", which is an invitation to others to drop their inhibitions and indulge in sexual activity on the verbal plane (this is usually confined 19 to persons of the same sex, age and social status), and the "expressive'. which is just a verbal substitute for sexual activity. Sexual humour makes -very frequent use of symbolism (being in this way comparable to dreams, as Freud pointed out), the sexual thoughts being rendered "harmless" by the double meaning of the symbolism. This double meaning leads us to the more intellectual or cognitive aspects of humour. Surprise or unexpectedness is an element in many of the situa- tions at which we laugh; the absence of surprise soon renders a joke stale.

• Incongruity, or the juxtaposition of elements not usually found together is also often an iMportant factor. Fusion or condensation of ideas and wishes is of course implied in symbolism and, once again, is very similar to certain characteristic mechanisms of unconscious thought revealed by psycho-analysis. Manifested in its simplest form in puns, it also plays a part in many more complicated kinds of humour, in which different (and often opposing) tendencies are neatly brought together. In this connection Freud thought that "economy" of mental effort contributed to the •pleasurable result, though this seems to conflict with the stress so often laid on "release of energy". Humour is thus very complicated and it would be presumptuous to sup- pose that we could easily solve a problem at which so many, able minds had worked without finding a generally agreed solution. The complication is increased by the circumstance that small quantitative differences in the various factors concerned can work for or against a humorous effect in any given case. Too much emotional energy, too little insight, or a refusal to adopt the play attitude, may destroy humour by making the situation too emotionally serious or by reducing it to apparent inbecility; and although the social value of humour has been acclaimed by many, there are others, (e.g. in recent times Ludovici) who are suspicious of it, as giving expression to sinister tendencies and as being destructive _of serious purpose and appreciation. In spite of all the thought devoted to it, there is still much to learn concerning the nature, function and Value of humour in human society. (Summary of a lecthre delivered on March 9) Correspondence To the Editor of The Monthly Record DEAR SIR-With regard to the interesting article in the February Record, "The Ethics of Self-Sacrifice", I would say that the sacrifice of life in war is not necessary at all "for the preserVation of ideals we hold dear". In fact, the contrary seems true: that we do not hold our ideals dear enough (or they are the wrong ones) is one reason why we are afflicted with wars. Ideals cannot be preserved with all the weapons of modern war at all; only by embodying those very ideals into our personality can we do this. What we desire, we must become. Sacrifice of life is not necessary, but . sacrifice of self is necessary for the building of that society in which war will be no more. To do this we must endeavour to supplant a "what-can- I-get-for-myself" attitude with a "what-service-can-I-render" attitude. This attitude will kill the small selfish self (the cause of most of our troubles) and develop the larger real self. Real self-sacrifice is not self-sacrifice at all in this sense, for we gain far more than we think we lose. By pursuing the old time-encrusted ways we have everything to lose—in oblivion; by the better realistic method, everything to gain. Let us take off the blinkers and live. Yours sincerely, R. Hiocmis 20 The Editor, The Monthly Record SIR—In your February Notes of the Month, under the heading "Science and Freedom", the writer expresses ideas which strike me as being 'rather questionable. To do nothing about the world situation, and to submit to the toppling of ideals accompanying it on thc plea of being "realistic" is, in my opinion, to make a poor show. Surely humanists should join with others to bring about a peaceful relationship with our•"potential enemies"? And who are those potential enemies? Is Yugoslavia one of them? Of course not. We must not be stampeded into believing that "Communism" covers every possible hostile element. If the profession of Humanism means a watering-down of the imperish- able ideals of Mill in the interest of passing exigencies. I for one will have none of it. Pacifists. and Quakers may not be "realistic" (whatever that means), but they are -at least to be honoured for refusing to compromise with their principles in times of peril. I am not a Communist. Yours truly. ERIC A. MCDONALD

DEAR SIR—On page five of your March issue it is stated: "A religion with- out a creed is obviously a religion without a church-. With respect, this statement is inaccurate. Unitarianism is essentially "a religion without a creed", yet it has its churches up and down the country. The basic policy of a Unitarian church is that no member or minister shall be askd to subscribe to any creed, doctrine, or article of faith whatsoever. I am a member of a Unitarian chuith and on its committee. Were I asked to subscribe to any creed, 1 wOuld immediately resign from membership. To me. intellectual freedom is absolute. Yours truly, 0. B. DEAKIN South Place News ELLA PLAISTOWE IVIMIEY (1883-1952)

ELLA I VIMEY was the youngest of eight children of a distinguished musical family of Spanish descent, of whom Joseph, the eldest, conductor and com- poser, and John, Doctor of Music, and Ella herself are perhaps the best known. Other members include a chorister of the Chapel Royal, an organist, a 'cellist, and the talent still persists to the fourth generation. Ella could not,remember not being able to play the piano. Joseph taught her the violin, in which she succeeded so well that at the age of thirteen she played the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto at a concert in Surbiton. An exhibition took her to the Guildhall School of Music, where she studied the violin, piano and composition. She was to be a violinist, so Joseph sent her off to Prague to study under Sevcik, who made his pupils practice eight , hours a day. This eventually overstrained her left hand and she had to give up the violin. For two years Ella as pianist and Margel Gluck, a fellow violin pupil of Sevcik, toured America. On her return, Ella set up as accompanist, making the best of her small hands. She led a very activd life, teaching, coaching, rehearsing with vocalists and instumentalists, and. more recently,

21 setting songs; many of which have been published by Augeners. She thus. worked with most of the great musicians, for example, Szigeti and CasaIs. and she toured with Suggia. She is best known, perhaps as accompanist to Melba, with whom she toured the British Isles. She was an excellent accom- panist; she had the musical knowledge, the technical ability, the sympathy and the necessary selflessness which gave way to the other artist. A story is told how on one occasion Gervase Elwes handed her the music for an encore which she had •not seen before. All went well and afterwards she showed him that two pages were missing. He was so impressed with her improvisation that he led her back to the audience and explained what had happened. She first played at a South Place Concert on February 18. 1917, in the days when nearly every programme included a vocalist. After that date hardly a season passed without Ellw playing, often more than once, until the grand total of her appearances was sixty-seven. On sixteen of these occasions she accompanied her friend Dorothea Webb, on others, Arthur Cranmer, John Goss, Sophie Wyss, Tatiana Makushina, Gwen Catley. and many more. She became the pianist for the South Place Ethical Society late in 1939 and thereafter until she was taken ill in October 1951. She was invited to join the Concert Committee in 1945 and served to the end. She was asked, several times to write about her life, but could not believe that anybody wished to read about her. Finally she wrote a short account which appeared in The Monthly Record for September 1951. She highly valued her connection, ethical and musical, with South Place, and for our part we held in great esteem her talent, her hard work and sincerity of purpose and her simple, modest and lovable nature. Her brother, Walter, says of her: "Shc had no guile." F. M. H.

The funeral at Golders Green Crematorium took place. on March 6. Mr. Hawton, who conducted the service paid the following tribute: Ella Ivimey originally intended to become a violinist. An injury to her hand first caused her to turn from the violin to the piano. Her career was re- markably successful, and her talent won the recognition of those who were eminently qualified to iudge. She toured Britain as an accompanist to Melba, and one remark which Melba made to her throws a significant light on her character. "You never leave anything to chance-. Melba said. A similar tribute was paid by Casals, and, indeed. everyone who watched her at work must have been struck by the extraordinary thoroughness and attention to detail which she applied to every performance, whether the audience was large or small. She was an artist, loyal to the highest standards of her difficult art—and loyal too to those who •were privileged to be her friends. The South Place Ethical Society for which she acted as an accom- panist and pianist on Sunday mornings since the beginning of the war, is conscious of this double loss: a highly gifted artist whose love of music was so deep that it infected even the unmusical, and a gracious and charming and wholly unaffected personality, whose interests were wide, and who cared for all things of the mind. We are all grateful to her for the moments of beauty which her art gave to us—and perhaps by that she herself would best wish to be remembered. Yet we cannot forget the courage with which she bore the cruel illness that struck her down. We derive strength to face 6urselves whatever must be faced from the example of fortitude of those who pass into the shadow-side of life. In that last battle they do.more for us than they know. They pass on to those who follow something of the quality of their own endurance. • H. H. 22 Obituary It is with deep regret that we announce the death. of Mrs. Augusta Harrington . who died on March 8 just one day after her 87th birthday, thus breaking a long association with South Place Ethical Society. This goes back many years as her mother, Ann Mansford, was a member of the Society in the days of Dr. Conway, and her two brothers Wallis and Herbert Mansford will be remembered •by many members with respcct and affection. The latter was the architect of Conway Hall and Mrs. Harrington and her brothers donated the oak Panelling on the platform in the large hall in memory of their mother who lived Over the age of 90. , Mrs. Harrington met her husband and three of his sisters (Mrs. Errington, Mrs. Richards and Mrs. Gould) through her association with South Place, and though it is many years since she took an active interest in the Society, many members will have visited her at Petersfield, and. remember_her as a charming and gracious hostess. She survived her husband by about seven years. Her interests were academic and she was the author of many articles on archaeology and kindred subjects. E. F. S. New Members Mr. R. Clements, 50 Westminster Mans, Little Smith Shreet, S.W.1; Mr. L. Haddock, 187 Barnfield Avenue, Kingston-on-Thames; Mr. J. W. W. Mowat, 11 Highview Gardens, Upminster, Essex; Mr. C. D. Pye, 7 Howard's Chase, North Road, Prittlewell, Southend-on-Sea; iMr. E. Tobias, 4a Allan • ,Way, N. Acton, W.3.

New Associates Mr. R. Iddon, 4 Langdale Crescent, Stuart Road, Ribbleton, Preston, Lancs. Society's Activities Sunday Social April 20 at 3 p.m. in the Library.. Songs by Eva Leonti and George Dowman. Tea and talk.

Thursday Evenings in the Library at 7 p.m. April 3—Geo. E. O'Dell : "A play reading of Bricux's 'False Gods'." .. 10—Closed. 17—Closed. 24—Hilda Hutton and friend•: 'Musical programme".

South Place String Orchestra. Practices take place in the Library on Fridays at 7 p.m. There are fiacancies for competent amateurs. Particulars may •be obtained from the Hon. Secretary, Mr. E. J. Fairhall, Conway Hall, W.C.1.

The Library, Conway Hall The Librarian will be in attendence on Sunday mornings and Tuesday and Thursday evenings. - Rambles Sunday, April 13. Chevening Park and Shoreham. Train, 10.34, Charing Cross to Knockholt. Return fare: 3s. 8d. Leader: Frederick Sowan. Sunday, April 27. Home Park, Hampton Court and Bushy Park. Waterloo, 1.49. Day return: 3s. Id. Leader: F. James.

23 Junior Debating Group ' Meets on Fridays at 7 p.m Visitors are welcomed and invited to take ,part in the debates.

Nominations for General Committee The Annual Meeting will be held on Wednesday, May 28. Nominations for the seven vacancies on the Committee should reach the Secretary by Sunday, April 27. Candidates having a minimum period of membership of twelve months must be nominated by two members. Forms may be obtained from the Secretary and should be handed to the Registrar, Mrs. T. C. Lindsay, on completion.

General Committee *C. E. Barralet: H. J. Blackham; *C. Bradlaugh Bonner; *D. A. Brazill; K. W. Bourne; D. A. Broughton; J. Cummins; Mrs. K. E. Dowman; *E H. Elkan; *Mrs. H. Gamble; *Miss W. L. George; Miss R. Halls; G. Hutchinson, F. James; W. C. Keay; L. Roth; *Mrs. D. Salmon: Miss P. Snelling; B. 0. Warwick; F. H. W. Washbrook; F. C. C. Watts; G. C. Dowman (Editor); E. J. Fairhall (Treasurer): Hector Elawton (Secretary); Mrs. T. C: Lindsay (Registrar). * Retire at Annual Meeting.

Officers Hon. Treasurer: E. J. FAIRHALL ir Hon. Registrar: Mrs. T. C. LEHI:PEA} Conway Hall, Red Lion Square, W.C.I Secretary: HECTOR HAWFON

CONWAY MEMORIAL LECTURE

The Forty-third Conway' Memorial Lecture will be given at 7.30 p.m. on April 25 by Pmfessor Morris Ginsberg, M.A., D.Lit., and the subject chosen is "Ethics and Psychoanalysis". Professor Ginsberg is a sociologist with a world- wide reputation though he has never sought the limelight. He has occupied, the Martin White Chair of Sociology at the London School of Economics since: 1929 and was formerly Lecturer in Philosophy at University College. His interest in philosophical problems by no means diminished when he turned to social science, and in 1942-43 he was President of the Aristotelian Society. Among his publications may he mentioned: Reason and Unreason in Society. 1947: Moral Progress. 1944: Studies in Sociology, 1932: The Psychology of Society, .1921; The Material Culture and Social Institutions of the Simpler Peoples, 1915 (joint author). He is also joint editor of The Sociological Rejims. By treating -conscience" from a strictly scientific point of view, Freud brought about,. in the opinion of many, a veritable Copernican revolution. The problems thus created, no less for .ethics than religion, have still to be solved, and a scientist with Professor Ginsberg's philosophical training is ideally equipped to throw light in these dark places. The chair at this lecture will be taken by Professor C. A. Mace, MA., D.Lit., who has been Professor of Psychology at Birkbeek College, University of London, since 1944, a former President of the Aristotelian Society and last year was President of the psychology section of the British Association. Owing to the enormous rise in the cost of printing it is regretted that the lecture will not be available in book form, but it will be published in full in an enlarged edition of The Monthly Record.

PARLEIGH PRESS LTD. (to.), BEECHWOOD RISE, WATFORD.