s field. Its flowers are amazingly complex, but
they call for no handkerchief. They are merely aggregations of
describable parts, each of which has well-defined functions. The "man"
whom science studies is complicated almost beyond belief. He is an
aggregation of trillions of cells. He is such a centre of vibrations
that a cyclone is almost a calm compared to the constant cyclic storms
within the area of man's corporeal system. His "mental states" have
their entries and exits before "the foot-lights of consciousness" and
exhibit a drama more intricate than any which human genius has
conceived. But each "state" is a definite, more or less describable,
_fact_ or _phenomenon_. For science, "man's" inner life, as well as
his corporeal bulk, is an aggregate of empirical items. No loophole is
left for freedom--that is for any novel undetermined event. No
shekinah remains within for a mysterious "conscience" to inject into
this fact-world insights drawn from a higher world of noumenal, or
absolute, reality. "Man" is merely a part of the naturalistic order,
and has no way of getting out of the vast net in which science catches
and holds "all that is."

There is, I repeat, no ground for blaming the psychologist for making
these reductions. His science can deal only with an order of facts
which will conform to the scientific method, for wherever science
invades a field, it ignores or eliminates every aspect of novelty or
mystery or wonder, every aspect of reality which cannot be brought
under scientific categories, _i.e._ every aspect which cannot be
treated quantitatively and causally and {xviii} arranged in a congeries
of interrelated facts occurring according to natural laws. The only
cogent criticism is that any psychologist should suppose that his
scientific account is the "last word" to be spoken, that his reports
contain all the returns that can be expected, or that this method is
the only way of approach to truth and reality. Such claims to the
rights of eminent domain and such dogmatic assertions of exclusive
finality always reveal the blind spot in the scientist's vision. He
sees steadily but he does not see wholes. He is of necessity dealing
with a reduced and simplified "nature" which he constantly tends to
substitute for the vastly richer whole of reality that boils over and
inundates the fragment which submits to his categories. We do well to
gather in every available fact which biology or anthropol