kindle anything." Again, arguing that the reality of religion cannot be found in sacred literature, but only in the soul's experiences, he exclaims, "If you only knew how to read between the lines!"'2

Philosophical as well as religious interests have inspired attempts at a psychological account of religion. Lucretius, quoting Petronius, declares that the basis of religion is fear: "It is fear that first made the gods." Hume opens his Natural History of Religion (1755) with a distinction between questions that concern the rationality of religion and those that concern its "origin in human nature." Many philosophers, indeed, have had theories of the relation of religion to human nature. Hegel, for example, regarded religion as a particular stage in the process whereby God comes to selfconsciousness in man. Ludwig Feuerbach, reversing this position, held that the gods are merely projections of man's wishes, so that in religion man comes to consciousness merely of what he himself is.

Finally, the history of religion, which has made great strides during the last two generations, has commonly called psychological conceptions to its aid. What, indeed, can a history of religion be as distinguished from a history of doctrines or of institutions-but an account of certain mental reactions as related to the situations in which they arise and grow?

Nevertheless, neither theology, philosophy, nor the history of religion has succeeded in producing a psychology of religion in the present sense of the term "psychology." They have turned attention to one or another phase of the enormous complex called "religion," 1 Reden (ed. of 1806), p. 33. 2 Ibid., p. 56.

and thereby they have stimulated inquiry. The history of religion has, in addition, accumulated large masses of data for the psychologist's use. Isolated views have been reached that may claim a permanent place in psychology. But a scientific psychology of religion is something more than an incident of philosophy, theology, and the history of religion. It implies, in particular, critical systematic methods for ascertaining data and for placing them within the general perspective of mental life.

The present movement for a psychology of religion is due to several new and favorable conditions. In the first place, psychology itself has just become an independent science, with many men devoting themselves exclusively to it. The first psychological laboratory, that of Wundt, was established as late as 1875. Since this date we have witnessed the upspringing of such fairly well-organized branches of the science as animal psychology, genetic and educational psychology, and abnormal psychology. Beginnings have been made, also, in social and anthropological psychology. In the second place, recent anthropological research, conducted with unprecedented thoroughness, has uncovered a vast quantity of material that bears upon the evolution of religion. Thirdly, there has occurred, chiefly in these years, a general assimilation of the historical-evolutionary principle as applied to the higher elements of culture. Notable, from the standpoint of our present interest, is the firm establishment of the historical study of the Bible, commonly called the higher criticism. Fourthly, and finally, an ancient obstacle to the scientific study of religion, the assumption of dogmatic authority, is in

process of rapid dissolution in Protestant circles. Not only that; within these circles a demand has arisen, in the name of religion itself, that the nature and the mechanism of the spiritual life be laid bare. This demand grows alike from desire for the firmest control of religious processes-as in religious education—and from a conviction that for us religion must be, among other things, an original grasp upon life rather than adhesion to tradition. We wish to make our religious consciousness clear as to its own meaning.1

The attempt to construe religion psychologically is most nearly related to general psychology, though its bearing upon theology, philosophy, and religious work is obviously direct. Indeed, the psychology of religion is properly nothing but an expanded chapter of general psychology. As we proceed, evidence will accumulate that we are dealing with something not separate in its elements from the most commonplace facts of mental life. The reasons for a separate treatment are reasons of convenience and of accommodation to existing conditions. For example: (a) The problems are so funda

I Among practical workers in religion there is a serious misconception, however, of the whole method and significance of the psychology of religion. Clergymen, in sermons and in books, are giving the name psychology to strange mixtures of dogma and hearsay science. One writer offers us “a Christian psychology of the Christian life,” which "admits sources of material as valid which general psychological science rigidly excludes." Another deduces practically a whole system of Christian doctrine-the traditional system—from a supposedly psychological analysis of Christian experience. Not a few fancy that they can draw directly from psychology new proofs of the existence of God, or of inspiration. It is significant that most writers of these types appear to be more at home in the obscurities of the subconscious than among the more clearly established facts and laws of the mind.

mental and the facts so complicated that an extensive treatment of them is inevitable. (b) Religious sensitivity, or prejudice, among students, and in religious circles generally, tends to deter psychologists from all discussion of religion. It is probably better to handle these difficulties in a group than to spread them out through general psychology. (c) Religion, though it is a commonplace fact, has nevertheless become, so to say, self-conscious. There is a partial parallel here with conditions in art and in education; in each of these three cases large masses of experience have organized themselves around a particular interest, or a particular institution, and as a consequence economy of attention is secured by a separate psychological treatment.

But can psychology penetrate to the heart of religion? Must it not forever be as much of an outsider as a man born deaf who should witness a symphony concert with his eyes only? How can one understand religion without feeling it, and how can feelings be put into words? And are not the supreme and most original religious experiences sui generis, extra-natural, incapable of analysis by means of ordinary methods or concepts? Let us answer these questions seriatim.

1. One possessed of sight but not hearing could find out many important things about symphony concerts, partly by direct observation, partly by reading what others write. In the same way the psychology of religion might be pursued with some success by one who does not "enjoy religion." Both symphonies and religious phenomena can be considered from the standpoint of processes taking place in time and space, and having parts related in definite ways to one another

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and to other things. That is, there is a mechanism of religion as well as of music.

2. Nevertheless, it is true that to understand either music or religion one must have appreciation, feeling, some actual entering into an experience as distinguished from merely looking on. It is true also that feelings cannot be put into words in the sense of being transferred thereby from one person to another. But neither can anything be, in this sense, put into words. The word "gold" is not yellow; the word "wealth" makes no one rich. There is nothing, however, to prevent persons who have similar feelings from devising a terminology that shall awaken specific memories connected with these feelings. We have, as a matter of fact, a great vocabulary of appreciation in aesthetics, ethics, and religion. To understand this vocabulary one must undoubtedly have some corresponding experience of appreciation; to incorporate such a vocabulary into the sciences a common human experience is prerequisite. A psychology of aesthetics is possible because aesthetic experience, at least in its rudiments, is common to men. A psychology of the moral life is possible because moral experience is universal. A psychology of religion in the same intimate sense is possible also, provided that religious appreciations of at least a rudimentary sort are likewise common. Whether this is the fact must be decided ultimately by the progress of our study, but the diffusion of religion in both space and time justifies a preliminary affirmative hypothesis on this point. Even if, however, religion be not thus a common experience, a psychology of religion in the sense referred to under 1 above would still be practicable.

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