not the one who fits up his laboratory with an eye to its practical output. And the same holds of the psychologist.
Moreover, it is a further truth—and one that has been often urged—that if the scientific man is let alone, and if the public will but wait, the ophthalmoscope and the anilines will follow of themselves. Psychology, of course, is very prominently before the public just now. Her methodology has been revolutionized in the space of a few years; attempts have been made from many sides to cut her loose from philosophy; some of her more enthusiastic followers have prophesied of her in the market-place. The psychologist cannot but feel, therefore, that he is expected to do something, and to do it quickly. This is very unfortunate: so unfortunate, that one is almost inclined to raise the question whether the science will not, in the end, have paid too dearly for its present popularity. However that may be, the pressure put upon us must be resisted, and the public be taught to wait. Psychology will make real progress only so long as her problems are investigated, leisurely and irresponsibly, for their own sake.
It is impossible to cite instances, without giving names. And that would be unfair; apart from the fact that I have no wish to do it,—the general tendency, and not the work of any particular man, being the object of my protest. Every psychologist will, I imagine, be able to supply, from his own knowledge of the literature, more than one case of the forcing of the psychological method upon a paedagogical problem; with the result that the method became superficial, and thereby detrimental in its subsequent reapplication to psychological material,—that the problem was not solved, but only empirically smoothed over, so to speak,—and that, as a practical outcome of the whole process, a mistaken paedagogical step was taken, which before very long had to be retracted, and in the meanwhile barred profitable advances along right lines.
Our motives as professors of a science may be very mixed. We may work for a general reputation among the educated classes; or for a special reputation among our colleagues; or we may be impelled by ethical considerations,—the desire of contributing our duty-mite to the explication of the universe. So long as these incitements are kept subordinate, the self- reference does not, perhaps, very much affect the quality of our work. But the real, driving motive must always be love of the work itself. To 'achieve anything great or remarkable' in psychology, we must enjoy psychological labor. Science depends upon those who find pleasure in science: she is most in danger from those who force her conclusions for utilitarian ends. E. B. T.
The venerable ex-president of Princeton College, the Reverend James McCosh, D.D., LL.D., Litt. D., died on November 16th, at Princeton, N. J. His death was due to no organic trouble or ailment, but simply old age and long activity had exhausted his vitality, and life went gradually out. He was born April 1, 1811, in Ayrshire, Scotland. At the age of 13 he entered
