] The time has passed when real thinkers can be satisfied
with the doctrines of the positive philosophers, who insisted that
events and institutions must be explained solely from the phenomenal or
objective world, that is, by other events.

Sounder views prevail, both in ethnology and its history. "The history
of man," says a German writer, "is neither a divine revelation, nor a
process of nature; it is first and above all, the work of man;"[13-2] an
opinion reiterated by Prof. Flint in his work on the philosophy of
history in these words: "History is essentially the record of the work
and manifestation of _human nature_."[14-1] In both sciences it is the
essentially human which alone occupies us; it is the _life of man_.

Now men do not live in material things, but in mental states; and solely
as they affect these are the material things valuable or valueless.
Religions, arts, laws, historic events, all have but one standard of
appraisement, to wit, the degree to which they produce permanently
beneficial mental states in the individuals influenced by them. All must
agree to this, though they may differ widely as to what such a mental
state may be; whether one of pleasurable activity, or that of the
Buddhist hermit who sinks into a trance by staring at his navel, or that
of the Trappist monk whose occupations are the meditation of death and
digging his own grave.

The ethnologist must make up his own mind about this, and with utmost
care, for if his standard of merit and demerit is erroneous, his
results, however much he labors on them, will have no permanent value.
There are means, if he chooses to use them, which will aid him here.

He must endeavor to picture vividly to himself the mental condition
which gave rise to special arts and institutions, or which these evolved
in the people. He must ascertain whether they increased or diminished
the joy of living, or stimulated the thirst for knowledge and the love
of the true and the beautiful. He must cultivate the liveliness of
imagination which will enable him to transport himself into the epoch
and surroundings he is studying, and feel on himself, as it were, their
peculiar influences. More than all, chief of all, he must have a broad,
many-sided, tender sympathy with all things human, enabling him to
appreciate the emotions and arguments of all parties and all peoples.

Such complete comprehension and spiritual accord will not weaken, but
will strengthen his clear