By Daniel A. Dombrowski
Table of Contents
Abbreviations of Works by Charles Hartshorne
Introduction
Chapter One: Historic and Thematic Background
Chapter Two: Beauty As a Mean
Chapter Three: The Aesthetic Attitude
Chapter Four: Bird Song
Chapter Five: Sensation/Feeling
Chapter Six: Panexperientialism
Chapter Seven: Beauty Merely in the Eye of the Beholder?
Chapter Eight: The Religious Dimensions of Aesthetic
Experience
Chapter Nine: Absolute Beauty?
Chapter Ten: Death and Contributionism
Bibliography
Abbreviations of Works by Charles Hartshorne
AB "The Aesthetics of Birdsong"
AC "The Acceptance of Death"
AP "An Anglo-American Phenomenology"
BA "Bergson's Aesthetic Creationism Compared to
Whitehead's"
BH Beyond Humanism
BS Born to Sing
CA Creativity in American Philosophy
CD "God as Composer-Director, Enjoyer, and, in a Sense,
Player of the Cosmic Drama"
CK "Why Psychicalism? Comments on Keeling's and Shepherd's
Criticisms"
CL "Charles Hartshorne's Letters to a Young Philosopher"
CS Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method
DL The Darkness and the Light
DR The Divine Relativity
DS "Darwin and Some Philosophers"
EA Existence and Actuality
ER "The Environmental Results of Technology"
HB Hartshorne and Brightman on God, Process, and Persons:
The Correspondence, 1922-1945
GE "Is God's Existence a State of Affairs?"
ID "In Defense of Wordsworth's View of Nature"
IO Insights and Oversights of Great Thinkers
IS "The Intelligibility of Sensations"
LP The Logic of Perfection
MB "Mind and Body: A Special Case of Mind and Mind"
ML "Some Theological Mistakes and Their Effects on
Modern Literature"
MV Man's Vision of God
NT A Natural Theology for Our Time
OD "An Outline and Defense of the Argument for the
Unity of Being in the Absolute or Divine Good"
PC The Philosophy of Charles Hartshorne
PD "A Philosophy of Death"
PP The Philosophy and Psychology of Sensation
PS Philosophers Speak of God
PU "Psychology and the Unity of Knowledge"
RE "The Aesthetic Dimensions of Religious Experience"
RI "Review of Irwin Edman, Arts and the Man"
RM "Reminiscences"
RS Reality as Social Process
RT "Review of Theodore Greene, The Arts and the Art of
Criticism"
SH "The Rights of the Subhuman World"
SQ "Sense Quality and Feeling Tone"
SS "Science as the Search for the Hidden Beauty of the
World"
ST "The Social Theory of Feelings"
TD "Time, Death, and Eternal Life"
TI "Three Important Scientists on Mind, Matter, and the
Metaphysics of Religion"
TP "Thomas Aquinas and Three Poets Who Do Not Agree with
Him"
TR "A Psychologist's Philosophy Evaluated after Fifty
Years: Troland's Psychical Monism"
WM Wisdom As Moderation
WP Whitehead's Philosophy
WS "Why Study Birds?"
ZF The Zero Fallacy and Other Essays in Neoclassical
Metaphysics
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the two Vanderbilt University Press reviewers who read two quite different versions of my manuscript and who made many helpful suggestions for improvement of the work. One of these readers was Donald Viney and the other remains anonymous. It is an understatement to say that I have benefited greatly from their efforts.
Introduction
Charles Hartshorne was born in the nineteenth century and lived to philosophize in the twenty-first. Perhaps the most neglected aspect of his extensive and highly nuanced thought is his aesthetics, a discipline within philosophy to which he contributed as early as the 1920s in his Harvard doctoral dissertation (he minored in English Literature at Harvard). His efforts in aesthetics quite incredibly lasted into the 1990s, over half a century after he co-founded the American Society for Aesthetics (and its associated journal, The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism) in 1942 (HL, 49).
The purpose of the present book is both to explicate in detail his theory of aesthetics for the first time and to use this theory to show the superiority of neoclassical or process theism over the classical theism defended by traditionalist Jews, Christians, and Muslim believers. The parenthetical citations throughout the book alert the reader to the sources from Hartshorne that I have used rather liberally. Hartshorne's own sources in aesthetics were myriad, as his extensive collection of books in art, art criticism, and aesthetics (now housed at the Center for Process Studies at the Claremont School of Theology) indicate. These sources will be cited throughout the book.
A generation ago Whitehead's aesthetics received definitive exploration by Donald Sherburne. 1 But the present work is quite different from Sherburne's magisterial book for at least three reasons. First, Hartshorne's philosophy is theocentric in a way that Whitehead's is not. Despite the fact that Sherburne's atheistic interpretation of Whitehead (developed after his book on Whitehead's aesthetics) is, from my point of view, unpersuasive for many reasons, it is nonetheless clear that his interpretation of Whitehead is at least plausible and must be taken seriously. But even Sherburne would seem to agree that it is not even remotely plausible to interpret Hartshorne's thought along non-religious lines. That is, Hartshorne's philosophy is God-intoxicated, an inebriation (ironic in light of Hartshorne's lifelong abstinence from alcohol) that affects his aesthetics at every turn, as we will see. Second, Hartshorne's aesthetics, unlike Whitehead's, appeals to an idiosyncratic but extremely interesting study of bird song. And third, Hartshorne's aesthetics, at least in partial contrast to Whitehead's (or at least Hartshorne uses different terminology from Whitehead's), relies heavily on the claim that sensation is a type of aesthetic feeling. Indeed, the Greek word aesthesis originally meant nothing other than feeling or what we today might call experience; only later did it refer to a disciplined feeling for beauty. This etymology fits in nicely with the panpsychist view of Hartshorne.
In this regard I would like to emphasize that the word "aesthetic" will be used in two different senses in this book. In the broad sense it refers to feeling, in general, as in the aforementioned Greek sense of the term, or to the sensory "feels" of things. But there is also a narrower sense of the term that refers to an experience of, or to a quality inherent in, a work of art, in particular. Initially I planned to distinguish between these two senses of the term by designating them throughout the book as aesthetic-b ("aesthetic" in the broad sense of the term) and aesthetic-n ("aesthetic" in the narrow sense of the term). But I decided that this cumbersome device is not needed in that context should indicate clearly to the reader which sense of the term I have in mind in each usage of "aesthetic" or its cognates.
We will see, however, that the issue is complicated by the fact that the broad sense of the term helps us to better understand our experience of specific works of art just as certain experiences we have of works of art illuminate aesthetic experience in general. That is, artistic creation (or appreciation) is, as Sherburne puts it in Whiteheadian terms, "simply a more concentrated, sophisticated version of an activity common to all actual occasions." 2 Once again, however, context will help the reader to locate which sense of the term I have in mind in some particular discussion. It is also interesting to note, especially because of Hartshorne's fascinating treatments of sensation as a type of feeling and of panpsychism, that the broad meaning of "aesthetic" was the dominant one well into the nineteenth century. That is, the identification of "aesthetics" with the arts, in particular, is a relatively recent phenomenon. 3
Hartshorne himself tells us of his interest in the aesthetics of bird song as early as 1920, the courses he taught in aesthetics at the University of Chicago and elsewhere as early as 1928, his careful study of the aesthetics of bird song under the auspices of the University of Michigan in 1953 (and of the remarkable window the aesthetics of bird song provides for aesthetics in general), etc. He is the first philosopher since Aristotle to be equally serious about what he sees as the most important branch of philosophy—metaphysics-and ornithology. He, like Dvorak, sees bird song as musical; and he sees it as illustrating the thesis that physical tones are, as Beethoven implied, the primordial feelings of nature. Kandinsky expresses a similar idea about color that supports Hartshorne's view. Further, we will see that Hartshorne was a pioneer in the heroic effort (continued by Langer and others 4) to defend opposition to aesthetic relativism; it is not the case that "anything goes," given our biological inheritance that lies behind our aesthetic sensibilities (WM, 106, 109; ZF, 43-44, 211; PC, 125).
In the remainder of the Introduction I would like to summarize the salient features of the view of God that will be assumed throughout the book.
Hartshorne fully accepts the goal of the traditional religious philosophers, i.e., logical analysis is in the service of a higher end. But he holds that the classical conception of God is internally incoherent. One of the major complaints he has with classical theism (in philosophy and theology, as opposed to biblical theism) is that it either explicitly or implicitly identifies God as active and not passive. St. Thomas Aquinas' unmoved mover is the most obvious example of this tendency, but in general classical theists in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam see God as a timeless, supernatural being that does not change. The classical theist's inconsistency lies in also claiming that God knows and loves and aesthetically appreciates the world. For example, if God knows God must be a subject on the analogy of human subjects, and if God is a subject who knows God must be affected by, be passive with respect to, the object known.
It will be to our advantage to get as clear as we can on what we mean by the term "God." In the present book the term refers to the supremely excellent or all-worshipful being. As is well known, Hartshorne has been the most important recent defender of St. Anselm's ontological argument, and his debt to St. Anselm is evident in this preliminary definition. It closely resembles St. Anselm's "that than which no greater can be conceived." Yet the ontological argument is not what is at stake here. Even if the argument fails, which Hartshorne doubts, the preliminary definition of God as the supremely excellent being, the all-worshipful being, the most beautiful being, and the greatest conceivable being seems unobjectionable. To say that God can be defined in these ways still leaves open the possibility that God is even more excellent or worshipful or beautiful than our ability to conceive, as St. Anselm himself admits (Proslogion, chapter 15) when he says that God is even greater than can be conceived. 5 This allows us to avoid objections from mystics who fear that by defining God we are limiting God to merely human language. All Hartshorne is suggesting is that when we think of God we must be thinking of a being who surpasses all others or we are not thinking of God. Even the atheist or agnostic would admit this much. When the atheist says "There is no God" there is a denial that a supremely excellent, all-worshipful, most beautiful, greatest conceivable being exists.
The contrast excellent-inferior is the truly invidious contrast when applied to God. If to be invidious is to be injurious, then this contrast is the most invidious one of all when applied (both terms) to God because God is only excellent. God is inferior in no way. Period. To suggest that God is in some small way inferior to some other being is to no longer speak about God but about some being that is not supremely excellent, all-worshipful, the most beautiful, or the greatest conceivable. Hartshorne's major criticism of classical theism is that it has assumed that all contrasts, or most of them, when applied to God are invidious.
Let us assume from now on that God exists. What attributes does God possess? Consider the following two columns of attributes in polar contrast to each other:
one many
being becoming
activity passivity
permanence change
necessity contingency
self-sufficient dependent
actual potential
absolute relative
abstract concrete
Classical theism tends toward oversimplification. It is comparatively easy to say "God is strong rather than weak, so in all relations God is active, not passive." In each case, the classical theist decides which member of the contrasting pair is good (on the left) then attributes it to God, whole wholly denying the contrasting term (on the right). Hence, God is one, but not many; permanent but not changing. This leads to what Hartshorne called the monopolar prejudice. Monopolarity is common to both classical theism and pantheism, with the major difference between the two being the fact that classical theism admits the reality of plurality, potentiality, and becoming as a secondary form of existence outside God (on the right), whereas in pantheism God includes all reality within itself. Common to both classical theism and pantheism is the belief that the above categorical contrasts are invidious. The dilemma these two positions face is that either the deity is only one constituent of the whole (classical theism) or else the alleged inferior pole in each contrast (on the right) is illusory (pantheism). Many theists believe, erroneously, Hartshorne thinks, that these two options exhaust the systematic alternatives to atheism.
This dilemma is artificial. It is produced by the assumption that excellence is found by separating and purifying one pole (on the left) and denigrating the other (on the right). That this is not the case can be seen by analyzing some of the attributes on the right side. At least since St. Augustine classical theists have been convinced that God's eternity and beauty meant not that God endured through all time, but that God was outside time altogether and did not, could not, be receptive to temporal change. St. Thomas Aquinas identified God, following Aristotle, who was the greatest predecessor to classical theism, as unmoved. Yet both activity and passivity can be either good or bad. Good passivity is likely to be called sensitivity, responsiveness, adaptability, sympathy, and the like. Insufficiently subtle or defective passivity is called wooden inflexibility, mulish stubbornness, inadaptability, unresponsiveness, and the like. To deny God passivity altogether is to deny God those aspects of passivity that are excellences and that are partially constitutive of beauty, as we will see. Or again, to deny altogether to God the ability to change does avoid fickleness, but at the expense of the ability to react lovingly to the sufferings of others.
The terms on the left side have both good and bad aspects as well. Oneness can mean wholeness; but also it can mean aesthetic monotony or triviality. Actuality can mean definiteness; but it can mean non-relatedness to others. What happens to divine love when God, according to St. Thomas Aquinas, is claimed to be pure actuality? God ends up loving the world, but is not intrinsically related to it, whatever sort of love that may be. Self-sufficiency can, at times, be selfishness.
The task when thinking of God is to attribute to God all excellences (left and right sides) and not to attribute to God any inferiorities (right and left sides). In short, excellent-inferior or good-evil are invidious contrasts (e.g., "good-good" is a redundancy and "evil-good" is a contradiction), but one-many, being-becoming, etc., are non-invidious contrasts. Unlike classical theism and pantheism, neoclassical or process theism is dipolar. To be specific, within each pole of a non-invidious contrast (e.g., permanence-change) there are invidious elements (inferior permanence or inferior change), but also non-invidious, good elements (excellent permanence or excellent change). When accused of denying God's transcendence, the Hartshornian reply should be in terms of a theory of dual transcendence: we should believe in twice as much transcendence as the classical theist.
Hartshorne does not believe in two gods, one unified and the other plural. Rather, he believes that what are often thought to be contraries are really mutually interdependent correlatives: "The good as we know it is unity-in-variety, or variety-in-unity; if the variety overbalances, we have chaos or discord; if the unity, we have monotony or triviality" (PS, 3). This claim, as we will see, has profound ramifications for aesthetics. Supreme excellence, if it is truly supreme excellence, must somehow be able to integrate all the complexity there is in the world into itself as one spiritual, aesthetically valuable whole. The word "must" indicates divine necessity, along with God's essence, which is to necessarily exist. And the word "complexity" indicates the contingency that affects God through creaturely decisions or feelings. But in the classical theistic view God is solely identified with the stony immobility of the absolute, implying non-relatedness to the world. God in the abstract nature, God's very being, may in a way escape from the temporal flux, but a living God is related to the world of becoming, which entails divine becoming as well if the world in some way is internally related to God.
The classical theist's alternative to this view suggests that all relationships to God are external to divinity, once again threatening not only God's love, but also God's nobility. A dog's being behind a particular rock affects the dog in certain ways because the dog is aware of it. Thus this relation is an internal relation to this particular dog. But it does not affect the rock, whose relationship with the dog is external to the rock's nature. (We will see that the situation is somewhat different for the microscopic parts of the rock; i.e., the rock as a whole is an abstraction in relation to its more concrete constituents.) Does this not show the superiority of canine consciousness, which is aware of the rock, to rocklike existence, which is unaware of the dog? And is it not therefore peculiar that God has been described solely in rocklike terms: pure actuality, permanence, only having external relations, unmoved, being not becoming?
In short, the divine being becomes, or the divine becoming is-—God's being and becoming form a single reality, according to Hartshorne:
There is no law of logic against attributing contrasting predicates to the same individual, provided they apply to diverse aspects of this individual.... God is neither being as contrasted to becoming nor becoming as contrasted to being; but categorically supreme becoming in which there is a factor of categorically supreme being, as contrasted to inferior becoming, in which there is inferior being (PS, 14-15, 24).
Thus, Hartshorne's theism can be called panentheism, which literally means "all in God." God is neither completely removed from the world, or unmoved by it, as in classical theism, nor completely identified with the world, as in pantheism. Rather, God is: (i) world-inclusive in the sense that God cares for all the world; and all feelings in the world-—especially suffering feelings-—are aesthetically felt by God; and (ii) transcendent in the sense that God is greater than any other being, especially because of God's everlasting existence and love. (As before, Hartshorne defends in DR and elsewhere a concept of "dual transcendence," wherein God excels all others with respect to both the terms on the left side of the above diagram and the terms on the right side.)
There are at least four logically distinct views regarding God: (1) God is merely the cosmos, in all aspects inseparable from the sum or system of dependent things or effects (pantheism); (2) God is both this system and something independent of it (Hartshornian panentheism); (3) God is not the system, but is in all aspects independent (traditional or classical theism); and (4) God is not the system but is in some aspects dependent on it (as in Lequyer or Brightman 6). (1) and (3) are simple views, (2) is complex. (1) and (2) refer to God as "the inclusive reality," but much depends on what one means by this phrase. That (1) and (2) are not identical can be seen by the fact that for both (2) and (3) the error of pantheism is to deny the externality of concrete existence to the essence of deity. Note that "God is all things" (1) is not equivalent to "God includes all things" (2)-—e.g., through divine omniscience and love and aesthetic appreciation. And later in the book we will see why Hartshorne rejects (4), the view that accepts divine passivity but denies panentheism and divine inclusiveness.
The differences among these views can also be seen in their relation to the ontological argument. Many theists have assented to this argument, but with different results. Spinoza, for example, confused the necessary existence of God (i.e., the fact that God must exist) with the concrete actuality of God (i.e., how God exists), hence he believes that everything relating to God is necessary. 7 Panentheists need not deduce the necessity of everything from an abstract definition, even if they do accept the ontological argument. God, for panentheists like Hartshorne, is necessary or absolute or self-sufficient only in bare essence or existence, but is contingent in actuality in that how God exists at least partially depends on other things that exist, which aesthetically enrich the divine life. The actual state of the deity is partly determined by creatures as a consequence of the social character of the divine self-decision. To be more precise, Hartshorne distinguishes among essence (the most abstract features of a thing), existence (the fact that a thing is), and actuality (characteristics that qualify an existing thing).
It is no wonder that theologians were shocked by Spinoza's views, and that the principle of divine inclusiveness was easily mistaken for its Spinozistic, necessitarian form, such that certain thinkers (like Coleridge and Wordsworth and other English romantic thinkers 8) felt compelled to sometimes retreat back into classical theism, even if they knew there were defects in that position. But it is too wide a use of "pantheism" to have the term cover all varieties of divine inclusiveness. The distinction between pantheism and panentheism is certainly no literary flourish; it is due to logical differences. Spinoza missed the truth but he had great genius, Hartshorne thinks. For example, Spinoza was correct that neither his view nor those of his classical theistic critics were to be found in scripture. Spinoza was the first to expose the skeleton in the classical theistic closet: an exclusively absolute and eternal God cannot be related to a contingent yet aesthetically valuable world. The essence of the divine substance, on this reasoning, determines its entire career, such that contingent predicates must be denied of divine substance, so as to preserve the absoluteness of deity. As before, the defects in Spinoza's position stem from the monopolar reasoning he inherited from classical theism. His God is an unmoved mover knowing an unmoved (or better, non-contingent) world. Nor do his geometrical analogies help him here-—in Euclidean geometry, at least, necessary properties are not modifications, but intrinsic properties.
A more sophisticated notion of divine containment can be developed by distinguishing among three sorts of sentiency (hereafter: S) or feeling (aesthesis). S1 is sentiency at the microscopic level of cells, atomic particles, and the like, where contemporary physics has partially vindicated the hylozoic position of antiquity and panpsychism. The nightmare of determinism has faded as reality in its fundamental constituents seems to have at least a partially indeterminate character of self-motion. That is, the sum total of efficient causes from the past do not supply the sufficient cause to explain the behavior of the smallest units of becoming in the world. In twentieth century physics, universal mechanism gave way to a cosmic dance. That is, Hartshorne is both an indeterminist and a panpsychist, in contrast to Leibniz, who was a determinist and a panpsychist, and to many contemporary physicists who are indeterminists yet not panpsychists.
S2 is sentiency per se, sentience in the sense of feeling of feeling (or aesthesis of aesthesis). This sentience is found in animals and human beings, whereby those with central nervous systems aesthetically feel as wholes, just as their constituent parts show prefigurements of aesthetic feeling on a local level. And aesthetic feeling is localized: think of the pain in burning one's finger or of sexual pleasure. S2 consists in taking these local feelings and collecting them on a higher level so that an individual as a whole can feel what happens to its parts, even if the individual somewhat transcends the parts. As Hartshorne says, hurt my cells and you hurt me. (By way of partial contrast, a non-panpsychist would concede that if one damages my cells one hurts me, but the non-panpsychist would not concede that one can "hurt" a cell in the sense that Hartshorne thinks is possible.)
S3 is divine sentiency. Hartshorne's view can be best understood, it seems, by way of the following four-term analogy:
S1 : S2 :: S2 : S3
The universe is a society or an organism of which one member (God) is preeminent yet world-inclusive, just as a human being is a society of cells of which the mental part is preeminent. Hartshorne does not, however, find the following four-term analogy an adequate tool in describing the cosmos:
S1 : a table :: S2 : the "uni"verse as a
concatenation of parts
Or as Erazim Kohak puts the point:
Shall we conceive of the world around us and of our-
selves in it as personal, a meaningful whole, honor-
ing its order as continuous with the moral law of
our own being and its beings as continuous with ours,
bearing its goodness—-or shall we conceive of it and
treat it, together with ourselves, as impersonal, a
chance aggregate of matter propelled by a blind force
and exhibiting at most the ontologically random
lawlike regularities of a causal order? 9
Hartshorne chooses the former alternative. In short, the above paragraphs indicate the conception of God that will be operative throughout the book.
The chapters are arranged in the following fashion. Chapter One describes the historic and thematic background for the present study. In this chapter I also indicate some of the unique contributions made by Hartshorne to aesthetic theory. In Chapter Two I introduce Hartshorne's crucial theme of beauty as a mean between two sets of extremes, a theme that is heard throughout the book. Whereas in Chapter Three I discuss Hartshorne's view of the aesthetic attitude, which concentrates on values that are intrinsic and immediately felt, in partial contrast to those (economic or moral) values that are instrumental and felt only eventually.
Chapter Four introduces the topic of Hartshorne's aesthetics of bird song and Chapter Six finishes the project of detailing the aesthetics of subhuman reality by treating his panpsychism or panexperientialism. In between these two chapters that deal with the aesthetics of subhuman reality is Chapter Five, which defends Hartshorne's claim that sensation is a species of aesthetic feeling. Aesthetic relativism is the object of criticism in Chapter Seven.
Chapters Eight through Ten deal explicitly with God. In Chapter Eight I examine the religious dimensions of aesthetic experience, as Hartshorne sees them, whereas in Chapter Nine I explore his view of divine beauty. Hartshorne argues that divine beauty is not to be equated with absolute beauty, as we will see. Throughout these last three chapters of the book I will be exploring the implications of Hartshorne's dipolar theism, rather than monopolar theism, for aesthetics. 10 In Chapter Ten I will examine the place of death in an aesthetics wherein, as Hartshorne sees things, the value of our lives consists in the beauty or the intensity of experience that we contribute to the divine life.
In the following chapter (Chapter One) I will indicate in detail the place of Hartshorne's views in twentieth century aesthetic theory. At the outset, however, I would like to alert the reader to the fact that I will be claiming that clarity and precision in aesthetic discourse can be achieved only when the major concepts involved are placed, as Hartshorne does, within a metaphysics, a theistic one at that. It is not, however, Hartshorne's belief that philosophy proceeds by way of irrefutable proofs, rather by way of tentative hypotheses amenable to criticism in terms of criteria like internal consistency, explanatory breadth and depth, and pragmatic adequacy. Hartshorne's aesthetic theory, I will argue, clears these hurdles, in contrast to certain other (usually narrower and shallower) aesthetic theories.
These initial comments are, I hope, like the first occasion of a major theme in a symphony, a theme that can be fully appreciated only after nuanced reiteration, development, and contrast with other themes, etc. The importance of Hartshorne for aesthetic theory is that, in an effort to give an account of reality (including divine reality), in general, he arrives at the very things that are required to give an account of aesthetic experience, in both the aforementioned broad and narrow senses of the term. 11
Finally, I would like to note at the outset that I will avoid using male pronouns for God in order to reflect the recent rejection of male bias in traditional philosophical theology. However, in some quotations from Hartshorne's earlier years these male-oriented terms can be found. For example, if his Man's Vision of God were written a few decades later it would have been titled Our Vision of God (HB, 159). In any event, even in Hartshorne's early years he was well ahead of his time in the effort to avoid male bias in our discourse about God.
Notes: Introduction
1. Donald Sherburne, A Whiteheadian Aesthetic (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1961). Also see Sherburne's "Whitehead without God," Christian Scholar 40 (1967), pp. 251-272.
2. Donald Sherburne, A Whiteheadian Aesthetic, p. 184.
3. See, e.g., Richard Viladesau, Theological Aesthetics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 6-7.
4. Susanne Langer, Philosophy in a New Key (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1942); and Feeling and Form (NY: Scribner's, 1953).
5. On Hartshorne's treatment of the ontological argument, in particular, and of other arguments that combine to form one "global argument" (actually to form a metaphysical system), see Donald Viney's excellent book Charles Hartshorne and the Existence of God (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1985).
6. See Donald Viney, "Jules Lequyer and the Openness of God," Faith and Philosophy 14 (1997), pp. 212-235. Also see Randall Auxier's and Mark Davies' commentary in the book they edited, Hartshorne and Brightman on God, Process, and Persons: The Correspondence, 1922-1945 (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2001).
7. See Spinoza, Ethics (London: Dent, 1913), Book I, Propositions 29, 32.
8. See, e.g., Thomas McFarland, Coleridge and the Pantheist Tradition (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969).
9. Erazim Kohak, The Embers and the Stars: A Philosophical Inquiry into the Moral Sense of Nature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), pp. 124-125.
10. See the recent study by Mark Brimblecombe, "Dipolarity and God," Ph.D. dissertation (University of Auckland, 2000).
11. Donald Sherburne, A Whiteheadian Aesthetic, pp. 3-5, 108, 204-205.