{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25110/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25110","id":"gutenberg_25110","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25110","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Philosophy"],"text":"Produced by Stephen Hope, Fox in the Stars, Lisa Reigel,\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes: Some typographical errors have been corrected. A\ncomplete list follows the text. Words in Greek in the original are\ntransliterated and placed between +plus signs+. In the transliterations\ne: and o: represent the vowel with a circumflex. Words italicized in\nthe original are surrounded by _underscores_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\nAPPROACH TO PHILOSOPHY\n\n\nBY PROF. RALPH BARTON PERRY\n\n THE FREE MAN AND THE SOLDIER\n THE MORAL ECONOMY\n THE APPROACH TO PHILOSOPHY\n\n\nCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n\n\n\n\nTHE APPROACH TO\nPHILOSOPHY\n\n\nBY\n\nRALPH BARTON PERRY, PH.D.\n ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY\n\n\nCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1905, BY\nCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n\nPrinted in the United States of America\nF\n\n\n\n\nTHIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED TO\n\nMY FATHER\n\nAS A TOKEN OF MY LOVE AND ESTEEM\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nIn an essay on \"The Problem of Philosophy at the Present Time,\"\nProfessor Edward Caird says that \"philosophy is not a first venture into\na new field of thought, but the rethinking of a secular and religious\nconsciousness which has been developed, in the main, independently of\nphilosophy.\"[vii:A] If there be any inspiration and originality in this\nbook, they are due to my great desire that philosophy should appear in\nits vital relations to more familiar experiences. If philosophy is, as\nis commonly assumed, appropriate to a phase in the development of every\nindividual, it should _grow out_ of interests to which he is already\nalive. And if the great philosophers are indeed never dead, this fact\nshould manifest itself in their classic or historical representation of\na perennial outlook upon the world. I am not seeking to attach to\nphilosophy a fictitious liveliness, wherewith to insinuate it into the\ngood graces of the student. I hope rather to be true to the meaning of\nphilosophy. For there is that in its stand-point and its problem which\nmakes it universally significant entirely apart from dialectic and\nerudition. These are derived interests, indispensable to the scholar,\nbut quite separable from that modicum of philosophy which helps to make\nthe man. The present book is written for the sake of elucidating the\ninevitable philosophy. It seeks to make the reader more solicitously\naware of the philosophy that is in him, or to provoke him to philosophy\nin his own interests. To this end I have sacrificed all else to the task\nof mediating between the tradition and technicalities of the academic\ndiscipline and the more common terms of life.\n\nThe purpose of the book will in part account for those shortcomings that\nimmediately reveal themselves to the eye of the scholar. In Part I\nvarious great human interests have been selected as points of departure.\nI have sought to introduce the general stand-point and problem of\nphilosophy through its implication in practical life, poetry, religion,\nand science. But in so doing it has been necessary for me to deal\nshortly with topics of great independent importance, and so risk the\ndisfavor of those better skilled in these several matters. This is\nevidently true of the chapter which deals with natural science. But the\nproblem which I there faced differed radically from those of the\nforegoing chapters, and the method of treatment is correspondingly\ndifferent. In the case of natural science one has to deal with a body of\nknowledge which is frequently regarded as the only knowledge. To write a\nchapter about science from a philosophical stand-point is, in the\npresent state of opinion, to undertake a polemic against exclusive\nnaturalism, an attitude which is itself philosophical, and as such is\nwell known in the history of philosophy as _positivism_ or\n_agnosticism_. I have avoided the polemical spirit and method so far as\npossible, but have, nevertheless, here taken sides against a definite\nphilosophical position. This chapter, together with the Conclusion, is\ntherefore an exception to the purely introductory and expository\nrepresentation which I have, on the whole, sought to give. The\nrelatively great space accorded to the discussion of religion is, in my\nown belief, fair to the general interest in this topic, and to the\nintrinsic significance of its relation to philosophy.\n\nI have in Part II undertaken to furnish the reader with a map of the\ncountry to which he has been led. To this end I have attempted a brief\nsurvey of the entire programme of philosophy. An accurate and full\naccount of philosophical terms can be found in such books as Kuelpe's\n\"Introduction to Philosophy\" and Baldwin's \"Dictionary of Philosophy,\"\nand an attempt to emulate their thoroughness would be superfluous, even\nif it were conformable to the general spirit of this book. The scope of\nPart II is due in part to a desire for brevity, but chiefly to the hope\nof furnishing an epitome that shall follow the course of the _natural\nand historical differentiation_ of the general philosophical problem.\n\nFinally, I have in Part III sought to present the tradition of\nphilosophy in the form of general types. My purpose in undertaking so\ndifficult a task is to acquaint the reader with philosophy in the\nconcrete; to show how certain underlying principles may determine the\nwhole circle of philosophical ideas, and give them unity and distinctive\nflavor. Part II offers a general classification of philosophical\nproblems and conceptions independently of any special point of view. But\nI have in Part III sought to emphasize the point of view, or the\ninternal consistency that makes a _system of philosophy_ out of certain\nanswers to the special problems of philosophy. In such a division into\ntypes, lines are of necessity drawn too sharply. There will be many\nhistorical philosophies that refuse to fit, and many possibilities\nunprovided for. I must leave it to the individual reader to overcome\nthis abstractness through his own reflection upon the intermediate and\nvariant stand-points.\n\nAlthough the order is on the whole that of progressive complexity, I\nhave sought to treat each chapter with independence enough to make it\npossible for it to be read separately; and I have provided a carefully\nselected bibliography in the hope that this book may serve as a stimulus\nand guide to the reading of other books.\n\nThe earlier chapters have already appeared as articles: Chapter I in the\n_International Journal of Ethics_, Vol. XIII, No. 4; Chapter II in the\n_Philosophical Review_, Vol. XI, No. 6; Chapter III in the _Monist_,\nVol. XIV, No. 5; Chapter IV in the _International Journal of Ethics_,\nVol. XV, No. 1; and some paragraphs of Chapter V in the _Journal of\nPhilosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods_, Vol. I, No. 7. I am\nindebted to the editors of these periodicals for permission to reprint\nwith minor changes.\n\nIn the writing of this, my first book, I have been often reminded that\na higher critic, skilled in the study of internal evidence, could\nprobably trace all of its ideas to suggestions that have come to me from\nmy teachers and colleagues of the Department of Philosophy in Harvard\nUniversity. I have unscrupulously forgotten what of their definite ideas\nI have adapted to my own use, but not that I received from them the\nmajor portion of my original philosophical capital. I am especially\nindebted to Professor William James for the inspiration and resources\nwhich I have received from his instruction and personal friendship.\n\n RALPH BARTON PERRY.\n\nCAMBRIDGE, March, 1905.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[vii:A] Edw. Caird: _Literature and Philosophy_, Vol. I, p. 207.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n\nPART I\n\nAPPROACH TO THE PROBLEM OF PHILOSOPHY\n PAGE\n\nCHAPTER I. THE PRACTICAL MAN AND THE PHILOSOPHER 3\n\n Sect. 1. Is Philosophy a Merely Academic Interest? 3\n Sect. 2. Life as a Starting-point for Thought 4\n Sect. 3. The Practical Knowledge of Means 8\n Sect. 4. The Practical Knowledge of the End or Purpose 10\n Sect. 5. The Philosophy of the Devotee, the Man of Affairs, and\n the Voluptuary 12\n Sect. 6. The Adoption of Purposes and the Philosophy of Life 17\n\nCHAPTER II. POETRY AND PHILOSOPHY 24\n\n Sect. 7. Who is the Philosopher-Poet? 24\n Sect. 8. Poetry as Appreciation 25\n Sect. 9. Sincerity in Poetry. Whitman 27\n Sect. 10. Constructive Knowledge in Poetry. Shakespeare 30\n Sect. 11. Philosophy in Poetry. The World-view. Omar Khayyam 36\n Sect. 12. Wordsworth 38\n Sect. 13. Dante 42\n Sect. 14. The Difference between Poetry and Philosophy 48\n\nCHAPTER III. THE RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 53\n\n Sect. 15. The Possibility of Defining Religion 53\n Sect. 16. The Profitableness of Defining Religion 54\n Sect. 17. The True Method of Defining Religion 56\n Sect. 18. Religion as Belief 59\n Sect. 19. Religion as Belief in a Disposition or Attitude 62\n Sect. 20. Religion as Belief in the Disposition of the Residual\n Environment, or Universe 64\n Sect. 21. Examples of Religious Belief 66\n Sect. 22. Typical Religious Phenomena. Conversion 69\n Sect. 23. Piety 72\n Sect. 24. Religious Instruments, Symbolism, and Modes of\n Conveyance 74\n Sect. 25. Historical Types of Religion. Primitive Religions 77\n Sect. 26. Buddhism 78\n Sect. 27. Critical Religion 79\n\nCHAPTER IV. THE PHILOSOPHICAL IMPLICATIONS OF RELIGION 82\n\n Sect. 28. Resume of Psychology of Religion 82\n Sect. 29. Religion Means to be True 82\n Sect. 30. Religion Means to be Practically True. God is a\n Disposition from which Consequences May Rationally\n be Expected 85\n Sect. 31. Historical Examples of Religious Truth and Error. The\n Religion of Baal 88\n Sect. 32. Greek Religion 89\n Sect. 33. Judaism and Christianity 92\n Sect. 34. The Cognitive Factor in Religion 96\n Sect. 35. The Place of Imagination in Religion 97\n Sect. 36. The Special Functions of the Religious Imagination 101\n Sect. 37. The Relation between Imagination and Truth in Religion 105\n Sect. 38. The Philosophy Implied in Religion and in Religions 108\n\nCHAPTER V. NATURAL SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 114\n\n Sect. 39. The True Relations of Philosophy and Science.\n Misconceptions and Antagonisms 114\n Sect. 40. The Spheres of Philosophy and Science 117\n Sect. 41. The Procedure of a Philosophy of Science 120\n Sect. 42. The Origin of the Scientific Interest 123\n Sect. 43. Skill as Free 123\n Sect. 44. Skill as Social 126\n Sect. 45. Science for Accommodation and Construction 127\n Sect. 46. Method and Fundamental Conceptions of Natural Science.\n The Descriptive Method 128\n Sect. 47. Space, Time, and Prediction 130\n Sect. 48. The Quantitative Method 132\n Sect. 49. The General Development of Science 134\n Sect. 50. The Determination of the Limits of Natural Science 135\n Sect. 51. Natural Science is Abstract 136\n Sect. 52. The Meaning of Abstractness in Truth 139\n Sect. 53. But Scientific Truth is Valid for Reality 142\n Sect. 54. Relative Practical Value of Science and Philosophy 143\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHE SPECIAL PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY\n\nCHAPTER VI. METAPHYSICS AND EPISTEMOLOGY 149\n\n Sect. 55. The Impossibility of an Absolute Division of the\n Problem of Philosophy 149\n Sect. 56. The Dependence of the Order of Philosophical Problems\n upon the Initial Interest 152\n Sect. 57. Philosophy as the Interpretation of Life 152\n Sect. 58. Philosophy as the Extension of Science 154\n Sect. 59. The Historical Differentiation of the Philosophical\n Problem 155\n Sect. 60. Metaphysics Seeks a Most Fundamental Conception 157\n Sect. 61. Monism and Pluralism 159\n Sect. 62. Ontology and Cosmology Concern Being and Process 159\n Sect. 63. Mechanical and Teleological Cosmologies 160\n Sect. 64. Dualism 162\n Sect. 65. The New Meaning of Monism and Pluralism 163\n Sect. 66. Epistemology Seeks to Understand the Possibility of\n Knowledge 164\n Sect. 67. Scepticism, Dogmatism, and Agnosticism 166\n Sect. 68. The Source and Criterion of Knowledge according to\n Empiricism and Rationalism. Mysticism 168\n Sect. 69. The Relation of Knowledge to its Object according to\n Realism, and the Representative Theory 172\n Sect. 70. The Relation of Knowledge to its Object according to\n Idealism 175\n Sect. 71. Phenomenalism, Spiritualism, and Panpsychism 176\n Sect. 72. Transcendentalism, or Absolute Idealism 177\n\nCHAPTER VII. THE NORMATIVE SCIENCES AND THE PROBLEMS OF RELIGION 180\n\n Sect. 73. The Normative Sciences 180\n Sect. 74. The Affiliations of Logic 182\n Sect. 75. Logic Deals with the Most General Conditions of Truth\n in Belief 183\n Sect. 76. The Parts of Formal Logic. Definition, Self-evidence,\n Inference, and Observation 184\n Sect. 77. Present Tendencies. Theory of the Judgment 187\n Sect. 78. Priority of Concepts 188\n Sect. 79. Aesthetics Deals with the Most General Conditions of\n Beauty. Subjectivistic and Formalistic Tendencies 189\n Sect. 80. Ethics Deals with the Most General Conditions of Moral\n Goodness 191\n Sect. 81. Conceptions of the Good. Hedonism 191\n Sect. 82. Rationalism 193\n Sect. 83. Eudaemonism and Pietism. Rigorism and Intuitionism 194\n Sect. 84. Duty and Freedom. Ethics and Metaphysics 196\n Sect. 85. The Virtues, Customs, and Institutions 198\n Sect. 86. The Problems of Religion. The Special Interests of\n Faith 199\n Sect. 87. Theology Deals with the Nature and Proof of God 200\n Sect. 88. The Ontological Proof of God 200\n Sect. 89. The Cosmological Proof of God 203\n Sect. 90. The Teleological Proof of God 204\n Sect. 91. God and the World. Theism and Pantheism 205\n Sect. 92. Deism 206\n Sect. 93. Metaphysics and Theology 207\n Sect. 94. Psychology is the Theory of the Soul 208\n Sect. 95. Spiritual Substance 209\n Sect. 96. Intellectualism and Voluntarism 210\n Sect. 97. Freedom of the Will. Necessitarianism, Determinism,\n and Indeterminism 211\n Sect. 98. Immortality. Survival and Eternalism 212\n Sect. 99. The Natural Science of Psychology. Its Problems and\n Method 213\n Sect. 100. Psychology and Philosophy 216\n Sect. 101. Transition from Classification by Problems to\n Classification by Doctrines. Naturalism.\n Subjectivism. Absolute Idealism. Absolute Realism 217\n\n\nPART III\n\nSYSTEMS OF PHILOSOPHY\n\nCHAPTER VIII. NATURALISM 223\n\n Sect. 102. The General Meaning of Materialism 223\n Sect. 103. Corporeal Being 224\n Sect. 104. Corporeal Processes. Hylozoism and Mechanism 225\n Sect. 105. Materialism and Physical Science 228\n Sect. 106. The Development of the Conceptions of Physical\n Science. Space and Matter 228\n Sect. 107. Motion and its Cause. Development and Extension of the\n Conception of Force 231\n Sect. 108. The Development and Extension of the Conception of\n Energy 236\n Sect. 109. The Claims of Naturalism 239\n Sect. 110. The Task of Naturalism 241\n Sect. 111. The Origin of the Cosmos 242\n Sect. 112. Life. Natural Selection 244\n Sect. 113. Mechanical Physiology 246\n Sect. 114. Mind. The Reduction to Sensation 247\n Sect. 115. Automatism 248\n Sect. 116. Radical Materialism. Mind as an Epiphenomenon 250\n Sect. 117. Knowledge. Positivism and Agnosticism 252\n Sect. 118. Experimentalism 255\n Sect. 119. Naturalistic Epistemology not Systematic 256\n Sect. 120. General Ethical Stand-point 258\n Sect. 121. Cynicism and Cyrenaicism 259\n Sect. 122. Development of Utilitarianism. Evolutionary Conception\n of Social Relations 260\n Sect. 123. Naturalistic Ethics not Systematic 262\n Sect. 124. Naturalism as Antagonistic to Religion 263\n Sect. 125. Naturalism as the Basis for a Religion of Service,\n Wonder, and Renunciation 265\n\nCHAPTER IX. SUBJECTIVISM 267\n\n Sect. 126. Subjectivism Originally Associated with Relativism and\n Scepticism 267\n Sect. 127. Phenomenalism and Spiritualism 271\n Sect. 128. Phenomenalism as Maintained by Berkeley. The Problem\n Inherited from Descartes and Locke 272\n Sect. 129. The Refutation of Material Substance 275\n Sect. 130. The Application of the Epistemological Principle 277\n Sect. 131. The Refutation of a Conceived Corporeal World 278\n Sect. 132. The Transition to Spiritualism 280\n Sect. 133. Further Attempts to Maintain Phenomenalism 281\n Sect. 134. Berkeley's Spiritualism. Immediate Knowledge of the\n Perceiver 284\n Sect. 135. Schopenhauer's Spiritualism, or Voluntarism. Immediate\n Knowledge of the Will 285\n Sect. 136. Panpsychism 287\n Sect. 137. The Inherent Difficulty in Spiritualism. No Provision\n for Objective Knowledge 288\n Sect. 138. Schopenhauer's Attempt to Universalize Subjectivism.\n Mysticism 290\n Sect. 139. Objective Spiritualism 292\n Sect. 140. Berkeley's Conception of God as Cause, Goodness, and\n Order 293\n Sect. 141. The General Tendency of Subjectivism to Transcend\n Itself 297\n Sect. 142. Ethical Theories. Relativism 298\n Sect. 143. Pessimism and Self-denial 299\n Sect. 144. The Ethics of Welfare 300\n Sect. 145. The Ethical Community 302\n Sect. 146. The Religion of Mysticism 303\n Sect. 147. The Religion of Individual Cooperation with God 304\n\nCHAPTER X. ABSOLUTE REALISM 306\n\n Sect. 148. The Philosopher's Task, and the Philosopher's Object,\n or the Absolute 306\n Sect. 149. The Eleatic Conception of Being 309\n Sect. 150. Spinoza's Conception of Substance 311\n Sect. 151. Spinoza's Proof of God, the Infinite Substance. The\n Modes and the Attributes 312\n Sect. 152. The Limits of Spinoza's Argument for God 315\n Sect. 153. Spinoza's Provision for the Finite 317\n Sect. 154. Transition to Teleological Conceptions 317\n Sect. 155. Early Greek Philosophers not Self-critical 319\n Sect. 156. Curtailment of Philosophy in the Age of the Sophists 319\n Sect. 157. Socrates and the Self-criticism of the Philosopher 321\n Sect. 158. Socrates's Self-criticism a Prophecy of Truth 323\n Sect. 159. The Historical Preparation for Plato 324\n Sect. 160. Platonism: Reality as the Absolute Ideal or Good 326\n Sect. 161. The Progression of Experience toward God 329\n Sect. 162. Aristotle's Hierarchy of Substances in Relation to\n Platonism 332\n Sect. 163. The Aristotelian Philosophy as a Reconciliation of\n Platonism and Spinozism 335\n Sect. 164. Leibniz's Application of the Conception of Development\n to the Problem of Imperfection 336\n Sect. 165. The Problem of Imperfection Remains Unsolved 338\n Sect. 166. Absolute Realism in Epistemology. Rationalism 339\n Sect. 167. The Relation of Thought and its Object in Absolute\n Realism 340\n Sect. 168. The Stoic and Spinozistic Ethics of Necessity 342\n Sect. 169. The Platonic Ethics of Perfection 344\n Sect. 170. The Religion of Fulfilment and the Religion of\n Renunciation 346\n\nCHAPTER XI. ABSOLUTE IDEALISM 349\n\n Sect. 171. General Constructive Character of Absolute Idealism 349\n Sect. 172. The Great Outstanding Problems of Absolutism 351\n Sect. 173. The Greek Philosophers and the Problem of Evil. The\n Task of the New Absolutism 352\n Sect. 174. The Beginning of Absolute Idealism in Kant's Analysis\n of Experience 354\n Sect. 175. Kant's Principles Restricted to the Experiences which\n they Set in Order 356\n Sect. 176. The Post-Kantian Metaphysics is a Generalization of\n the Cognitive and Moral Consciousness as Analyzed\n by Kant. The Absolute Spirit 358\n Sect. 177. Fichteanism, or the Absolute Spirit as Moral Activity 360\n Sect. 178. Romanticism, or the Absolute Spirit as Sentiment 361\n Sect. 179. Hegelianism, or the Absolute Spirit as Dialectic 361\n Sect. 180. The Hegelian Philosophy of Nature and History 363\n Sect. 181. Resume. Failure of Absolute Idealism to Solve the\n Problem of Evil 365\n Sect. 182. The Constructive Argument for Absolute Idealism is\n Based upon the Subjectivistic Theory of Knowledge 368\n Sect. 183. The Principle of Subjectivism Extended to Reason 371\n Sect. 184. Emphasis on Self-consciousness in Early Christian\n Philosophy 372\n Sect. 185. Descartes's Argument for the Independence of the\n Thinking Self 374\n Sect. 186. Empirical Reaction of the English Philosophers 376\n Sect. 187. To Save Exact Science Kant Makes it Dependent on Mind 377\n Sect. 188. The Post-Kantians Transform Kant's Mind-in-general\n into an Absolute Mind 380\n Sect. 189. The Direct Argument. The Inference from the Finite\n Mind to the Infinite Mind 382\n Sect. 190. The Realistic Tendency in Absolute Idealism 385\n Sect. 191. The Conception of Self-consciousness Central in the\n Ethics of Absolute Idealism. Kant 386\n Sect. 192. Kantian Ethics Supplemented through the Conceptions of\n Universal and Objective Spirit 388\n Sect. 193. The Peculiar Pantheism and Mysticism of Absolute\n Idealism 390\n Sect. 194. The Religion of Exuberant Spirituality 393\n\nCHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION 395\n\n Sect. 195. Liability of Philosophy to Revision Due to its\n Systematic Character 395\n Sect. 196. The One Science and the Many Philosophies 396\n Sect. 197. Progress in Philosophy. The Sophistication or\n Eclecticism of the Present Age 398\n Sect. 198. Metaphysics. The Antagonistic Doctrines of Naturalism\n and Absolutism 399\n Sect. 199. Concessions from the Side of Absolutism. Recognition\n of Nature. The Neo-Fichteans 401\n Sect. 200. The Neo-Kantians 403\n Sect. 201. Recognition of the Individual. Personal Idealism 404\n Sect. 202. Concessions from the Side of Naturalism. Recognition of\n Fundamental Principles 405\n Sect. 203. Recognition of the Will. Pragmatism 407\n Sect. 204. Summary and Transition to Epistemology 408\n Sect. 205. The Antagonistic Doctrines of Realism and Idealism.\n Realistic Tendency in Empirical Idealism 409\n Sect. 206. Realistic Tendency in Absolute Idealism. The Conception\n of Experience 410\n Sect. 207. Idealistic Tendencies in Realism. The Immanence\n Philosophy 412\n Sect. 208. The Interpretation of Tradition as the Basis for a New\n Construction 413\n Sect. 209. The Truth of the Physical System, but Failure of\n Attempt to Reduce all Experience to it 414\n Sect. 210. Truth of Psychical Relations but Impossibility of\n General Reduction to them 415\n Sect. 211. Truth of Logical and Ethical Principles. Validity of\n Ideal of Perfection, but Impossibility of Deducing\n the Whole of Experience from it 415\n Sect. 212. Error and Evil cannot be Reduced to the Ideal 417\n Sect. 213. Collective Character of the Universe as a Whole 419\n Sect. 214. Moral Implications of Such Pluralistic Philosophy.\n Purity of the Good 420\n Sect. 215. The Incentive to Goodness 422\n Sect. 216. The Justification of Faith 423\n Sect. 217. The Worship and Service of God 425\n Sect. 218. The Philosopher and the Standards of the Market-Place 425\n Sect. 219. The Secularism of the Present Age 427\n Sect. 220. The Value of Contemplation for Life 428\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY 431\n\nINDEX 441\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\nAPPROACH TO THE PROBLEM OF\nPHILOSOPHY\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE PRACTICAL MAN AND THE PHILOSOPHER\n\n\n[Sidenote: Is Philosophy a Merely Academic Interest?]\n\nSect. 1. Philosophy suffers the distinction of being regarded as\nessentially an academic pursuit. The term _philosophy_, to be sure, is\nused in common speech to denote a stoical manner of accepting the\nvicissitudes of life; but this conception sheds little or no light upon\nthe meaning of philosophy as a branch of scholarship. The men who write\nthe books on \"Epistemology\" or \"Ontology,\" are regarded by the average\nman of affairs, even though he may have enjoyed a \"higher education,\"\nwith little sympathy and less intelligence. Not even philology seems\nless concerned with the real business of life. The pursuit of philosophy\nappears to be a phenomenon of extreme and somewhat effete culture, with\nits own peculiar traditions, problems, and aims, and with little or\nnothing to contribute to the real enterprises of society. It is easy to\nprove to the satisfaction of the philosopher that such a view is\nradically mistaken. But it is another and more serious matter to bridge\nover the very real gap that separates philosophy and common-sense. Such\nan aim is realized only when philosophy is seen to issue from some\nspecial interest that is humanly important; or when, after starting in\nthought at a point where one deals with ideas and interests common to\nall, one is led by the inevitableness of consistent thinking into the\nsphere of philosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Life as a Starting-point for Thought.]\n\nSect. 2. There is but one starting-point for reflection when all men are\ninvited to share in it. Though there be a great many special platforms\nwhere special groups of men may take their stand together, there is only\none platform broad enough for all. This universal stand-point, or common\nplatform, is _life_. It is our more definite thesis, then, that\nphilosophy, even to its most abstruse technicality, is rooted in life;\nand that it is inseparably bound up with the satisfaction of practical\nneeds, and the solution of practical problems.\n\nEvery man knows what it is to live, and his immediate experience will\nverify those features of the adventure that stand out conspicuously. To\nbegin with, life is our birthright. We did not ask for it, but when we\ngrew old enough to be self-conscious we found ourselves in possession\nof it. Nor is it a gift to be neglected, even if we had the will. As is\ntrue of no other gift of nature, we must use it, or cease to be. There\nis a unique urgency about life. But we have already implied more, in so\nfar as we have said that it must be _used_, and have thereby referred to\nsome form of movement or activity as its inseparable attribute. To\nlive is to find one's self compelled to do something. To do\n_something_--there is another implication of life: some outer\nexpression, some medium in which to register the degree and form of its\nactivity. Such we recognize as the environment of life, the real objects\namong which it is placed; which it may change, or from which it may\nsuffer change. Not only do we find our lives as unsolicited active\npowers, but find, as well, an arena prescribed for their exercise. That\nwe shall act, and in a certain time and place, and with reference to\ncertain other realities, this is the general condition of things that is\nencountered when each one of us discovers life. In short, to live means\nto be compelled to do something under certain circumstances.\n\nThere is another very common aspect of life that would not at first\nglance seem worthy of mention. Not only does life, as we have just\ndescribed it, mean opportunity, but it means self-conscious opportunity.\nThe facts are such as we have found them to be, and as each one of us\nhas previously found them for himself. But when we discover life for\nourselves, we who make the discovery, and we who live, are identical.\nFrom that moment we both live, and know that we live. Moreover, such is\nthe essential unity of our natures that our living must now express our\nknowing, and our knowing guide and illuminate our living. Consider the\nallegory of the centipede. From the beginning of time he had manipulated\nhis countless legs with exquisite precision. Men had regarded him with\nwonder and amazement. But he was innocent of his own art, being a\ncontrivance of nature, perfectly constructed to do her bidding. One day\nthe centipede discovered life. He discovered himself as one who walks,\nand the newly awakened intelligence, first observing, then foreseeing,\nat length began to direct the process. And from that moment the\ncentipede, because he could not remember the proper order of his going,\nlost all his former skill, and became the poor clumsy victim of his own\nself-consciousness. This same self-consciousness is the inconvenience\nand the great glory of human life. We must stumble along as best we\ncan, guided by the feeble light of our own little intelligence. If\nnature starts us on our way, she soon hands over the torch, and bids us\nfind the trail for ourselves. Most men are brave enough to regard this\nas the best thing of all; some despair on account of it. In either case\nit is admittedly the true story of human life. We must live as separate\nselves, observing, foreseeing, and planning. There are two things that\nwe can do about it. We can repudiate our natures, decline the\nresponsibility, and degenerate to the level of those animals that never\nhad our chance; or we can leap joyously to the helm, and with all the\nstrength and wisdom in us guide our lives to their destination. But if\nwe do the former, we shall be unable to forget what might have been, and\nshall be haunted by a sense of ignominy; and if we do the second, we\nshall experience the unique happiness of fulfilment and\nself-realization.\n\nLife, then, is a situation that appeals to intelligent activity. Humanly\nspeaking, there is no such thing as a situation that is not at the same\ntime a theory. As we live we are all theorists. Whoever has any\nmisgivings as to the practical value of theory, let him remember that,\nspeaking generally of human life, it is true to say that there is no\npractice that does not issue at length from reflection. That which is\nthe commonest experience of mankind is the conjunction of these two, the\nthought and the deed. And as surely as we are all practical theorists,\nso surely is philosophy the outcome of the broadening and deepening of\npractical theory. But to understand how the practical man becomes the\nphilosopher, we must inquire somewhat more carefully into the manner of\nhis thought about life.\n\n[Sidenote: The Practical Knowledge of Means.]\n\nSect. 3. Let anyone inspect the last moment in his life, and in all\nprobability he will find that his mind was employed to discover the\nmeans to some end. He was already bent upon some definite achievement,\nand was thoughtful for the sake of selecting the economical and\neffectual way. His theory made his practice skilful. So through life his\nknowledge shows him how to work his will. Example, experience, and books\nhave taught him the uses of nature and society, and in his thoughtful\nliving he is enabled to reach the goal he has set for the next hour,\nday, or year of his activity. The long periods of human life are spent\nin elaborating the means to some unquestioned end. Here one meets the\ncurious truth that we wake up in the middle of life, already making\nheadway, and under the guidance of some invisible steersman. When first\nwe take the business of life seriously, there is a considerable stock in\ntrade in the shape of habits, and inclinations to all sorts of things\nthat we never consciously elected to pursue. Since we do not begin at\nthe beginning, our first problem is to accommodate ourselves to\nourselves, and our first deliberate acts are in fulfilment of plans\noutlined by some predecessor that has already spoken for us. The same\nthing is true of the race of men. At a certain stage in their\ndevelopment men found themselves engaged in all manner of ritual and\ncustom, and burdened with concerns that were not of their own choosing.\nThey were burning incense, keeping festivals, and naming names, all of\nwhich they must now proceed to justify with myth and legend, in order to\nrender intelligible to themselves the deliberate and self-conscious\nrepetition of them. Even so much justification was left to the few, and\nthe great majority continued to seek that good which social usage\ncountenanced and individual predisposition confirmed. So every man of us\nacts from day to day for love's sake, or wealth's sake, or power's\nsake, or for the sake of some near and tangible object; reflecting only\nfor the greater efficiency of his endeavor.\n\n[Sidenote: The Practical Knowledge of the End or Purpose.]\n\nSect. 4. But if this be the common manner of thinking about life, it\ndoes not represent the whole of such thought. Nor does it follow that\nbecause it occupies us so much, it is therefore correspondingly\nfundamental. Like the myth makers of old, we all want more or less to\nknow the _reason of our ends_. Here, then, we meet with a somewhat\ndifferent type of reflection upon life, the reflection that underlies\nthe adoption of a life purpose. It is obvious that most ends are\nselected for the sake of other ends, and so are virtually means. Thus\none may struggle for years to secure a college education. This definite\nend has been adopted for the sake of a somewhat more indefinite end of\nself-advancement, and from it there issues a whole series of minor ends,\nwhich form a hierarchy of steps ascending to the highest goal of\naspiration. Now upon the face of things we live very unsystematic lives,\nand yet were we to examine ourselves in this fashion, we should all find\nour lives to be marvels of organization. Their growth, as we have seen,\nbegan before we were conscious of it; and we are commonly so absorbed\nin some particular flower or fruit that we forget the roots, and the\ndesign of the whole. But a little reflection reveals a remarkable\nunitary adjustment of parts. The unity is due to the dominance of a\ngroup of central purposes. Judged from the stand-point of experience, it\nseems bitter irony to say that everyone gets from life just what he\nwishes. But a candid searching of our own hearts will incline us to\nadmit that, after all, the way we go and the length we go is determined\npretty much by the kind and the intensity of our secret longing. That\nfor which in the time of choice we are willing to sacrifice all else, is\nthe formula that defines the law of each individual life. All this is\nnot intended to mean that we have each named a clear and definite ideal\nwhich is our chosen goal. On the contrary, such a conception may be\nalmost meaningless to some of us. In general the higher the ideal the\nvaguer and less vivid is its presentation to our consciousness. But,\nnamed or unnamed, sharp or blurred, vivid or half-forgotten, there may\nbe found in the heart of every man that which of all things he wants to\nbe, that which of all deeds he wants to do. If he has had the normal\nyouth of dreaming, he has seen it, and warmed to the picture of his\nimagination; if he has been somewhat more thoughtful than the ordinary,\nhis reason has defined it, and adopted it for his vocation; if neither,\nit has been present as an undertone throughout the rendering of his more\ninevitable life. He will recognize it when it is named as the desire to\ndo the will of God, or to have as good a time as possible, or to make\nother people as happy as possible, or to be equal to his\nresponsibilities, or to fulfil the expectation of his mother, or to be\ndistinguished, wealthy, or influential. This list of ideals is\nmiscellaneous, and ethically reducible to more fundamental concepts, but\nthese are the terms in which men are ordinarily conscious of their most\nintimate purposes. We must now inquire respecting the nature of the\nthought that determines the selection of such a purpose, or justifies it\nwhen it has been unconsciously accepted.\n\n[Sidenote: The Philosophy of the Devotee, the Man of Affairs, and the\nVoluptuary.]\n\nSect. 5. What is most worth while? So far as human action is concerned\nthis obviously depends upon what is possible, upon what is expected of\nus by our own natures, and upon what interests and concerns are\nconserved by the trend of events in our environment. What I had best\ndo, presupposes what I have the strength and the skill to do, what I\nfeel called upon to do, and what are the great causes that are entitled\nto promotion at my hands. It seems that practically we cannot separate\nthe ideal from the real. We may feel that the highest ideal is an\nimmediate utterance of conscience, as mysterious in origin as it is\nauthoritative in expression. We may be willing to defy the universe, and\nexpatriate ourselves from our natural and social environment, for the\nsake of the holy law of duty. Such men as Count Tolstoi have little to\nsay of the possible, or the expedient, or the actual, and are satisfied\nto stand almost alone against the brutal facts of usage and economy. We\nall have a secret sense of chivalry, that prompts, however\nineffectually, to a like devotion. But that which in such moral purposes\nappears to indicate a severance of the ideal and the real, is, if we\nwill but stop to consider, only a severance of the ideal and the\napparent. The martyr is more sure of reality than the adventurer. He is\nconvinced that though his contemporaries and his environment be against\nhim; the fundamental or eventual order of things is for him. He believes\nin a spiritual world more abiding, albeit less obvious, than the\nmaterial world. Though every temporal event contradict him, he lives in\nthe certainty that eternity is his. Such an one may have found his ideal\nin the voice of God and His prophets, or he may have been led to God as\nthe justification of his irresistible ideal; but in either case the\nselection of his ideal is reasonable to him in so far as it is\nharmonious with the ultimate nature of things, or stands for the promise\nof reality. In this wise, thought about life expands into some\nconception of the deeper forces of the world, and life itself, in\nrespect of its fundamental attachment to an ideal, implies some belief\nconcerning the fundamental nature of its environment.\n\nBut lest in this account life be credited with too much gravity and\nimport, or it seem to be assumed that life is all knight-errantry, let\nus turn to our less quixotic, and perhaps more effectual, man of\naffairs. He works for his daily bread, and for success in his vocation.\nHe has selected his vocation for its promise of return in the form of\nwealth, comfort, fame, or influence. He likewise performs such\nadditional service to his family and his community as is demanded of him\nby public opinion and his own sense of responsibility. He may have a\ncertain contempt for the man who sees visions. This may be his manner of\ntestifying to his own preference for the ideal of usefulness and\nimmediate efficiency. But even so he would never for an instant admit\nthat he was pursuing a merely conventional good. He may be largely\nimitative in his standards of value, recognizing such aims as are common\nto some time or race; nevertheless none would be more sure than he of\nthe truth of his ideal. Question him, and he will maintain that his is\nthe reasonable life under the conditions of human existence. He may\nmaintain that if there be a God, he can best serve Him by promoting the\ntangible welfare of himself and those dependent upon him. He may\nmaintain that, since there is no God, he must win such rewards as the\nworld can give. If he have something of the heroic in him, he may tell\nyou that, since there is no God, he will labor to the uttermost for his\nfellow-men. Where he has not solved the problem of life for himself, he\nmay believe himself to be obeying the insight of some one wiser than\nhimself, or of society as expressed in its customs and institutions. But\nno man ever admitted that his life was purely a matter of expediency, or\nthat in his dominant ideal he was the victim of chance. In the\nbackground of the busiest and most preoccupied life of affairs, there\ndwells the conviction that such living is appropriate to the universe;\nthat it is called for by the circumstances of its origin, opportunities,\nand destiny.\n\nFinally, the man who makes light of life has of all men the most\ntransparent inner consciousness. In him may be clearly observed the\nrelation between the ideal and the reflection that is assumed to justify\nit.\n\n \"A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste\n Of Being from the Well amid the Waste--\n And Lo!--the phantom Caravan has reach'd\n The Nothing it set out from-- . . .\"\n\n \"We are no other than a moving row\n Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go\n Round with the Sun-illumin'd Lantern held\n In Midnight by the Master of the Show.\"\n\nWhere the setting of life is construed in these terms, there is but one\nnatural and appropriate manner of life. Once believing in the isolation\nand insignificance of life, one is sceptical of all worth save such as\nmay be tasted in the moment of its purchase. If one's ideas and\nexperiences are no concern of the world's, but incidents of a purely\nlocal and transient interest, they will realize most when they realize\nan immediate gratification. Where one does not believe that he is a\nmember of the universe, and a contributor to its ends, he does well to\nminimize the friction that arises from its accidental propinquity, and\nto kindle some little fire of enjoyment in his own lonely heart. This is\nthe life of abandonment to pleasure, accompanied by the conviction that\nthe conditions of life warrant no more strenuous or heroic plan.\n\n[Sidenote: The Adoption of Purposes and the Philosophy of Life.]\n\nSect. 6. In such wise do we adopt the life purpose, or justify it when\nunconsciously adopted. The pursuit of an ideal implies a belief in its\neffectuality. Such a belief will invariably appear when the groundwork\nof the daily living is laid bare by a little reflection. And if our\nanalysis has not been in error, there is something more definite to be\nobtained from it. We all believe in the practical wisdom of our\nfundamental ideals; but we believe, besides, that such wisdom involves\nthe sanction of the universe as a whole. The momentousness of an\nindividual's life will be satisfied with nothing less final than an\nabsolutely wise disposition of it. For every individual, his life is all\nhis power and riches, and is not to be spent save for the _greatest good\nthat he can reasonably pursue_. But the solution of such a problem is\nnot to be obtained short of a searching of entire reality. Every life\nwill represent more or less of such wisdom and enlightenment; and in the\nend the best selection of ideal will denote the greatest wealth of\nexperience. It is not always true that he who has seen more will live\nmore wisely, for in an individual case instinct or authority may be\nbetter sources of aspiration than experience. But we trust instinct and\nauthority because we believe them to represent a comprehensive\nexperience on the part of the race as a whole, or on the part of God. He\nwhose knowledge is broadest and truest would know best what is finally\nworth living for. On this account, most men can see no more reasonable\nplan of life than obedience to God's will, for God in the abundance of\nhis wisdom, and since all eternity is plain before him, must see with\ncertainty that which is supremely worthy.\n\nWe mean, then, that the selection of our ideals shall be determined by\nthe largest possible knowledge of the facts pertaining to life. We mean\nto select as one would select who knew all about the antecedents and\nsurroundings and remote consequences of life. In our own weakness and\nfinitude we may go but a little way in the direction of such an\ninsight, and may prefer to accept the judgment of tradition or\nauthority, but we recognize a distinct type of knowledge as alone worthy\nto justify an individual's adoption of an ideal. That type of knowledge\nis the knowledge that comprehends the universe in its totality. Such\nknowledge does not involve completeness of information respecting all\nparts of reality. This, humanly speaking, is both unattainable and\ninconceivable. It involves rather a conception of the _kind_ of reality\nthat is fundamental. For a wise purpose it is unnecessary that we should\nknow many matters of fact, or even specific laws, provided we are\nconvinced of the inner and essential character of the universe. Some of\nthe alternatives are matters of every-day thought and speech. One cannot\ntell the simplest story of human life without disclosing them. To live\nthe human life means to pursue ideals, that is, to have a thing in mind,\nand then to try to accomplish it. Here is one kind of reality and power.\nThe planetary system, on the other hand, does not pursue ideals, but\nmoves unconscious of itself, with a mechanical precision that can be\nexpressed in a mathematical formula; and is representative of another\nkind of reality and power. Hence a very common and a very practical\nquestion: Is there an underlying law, like the law of gravitation,\nfundamentally and permanently governing life, in spite of its apparent\ndirection by ideal and aspiration? Or is there an underlying power, like\npurpose, fundamentally and permanently governing the planetary system\nand all celestial worlds, in spite of the apparent control of blind and\nirresistible forces? This is a practical question because nothing could\nbe more pertinent to our choice of ideals. Nothing could make more\ndifference to life than a belief in the life or lifelessness of its\nenvironment. The faiths that generate or confirm our ideals always refer\nto this great issue. And this is but one, albeit the most profound, of\nthe many issues that arise from the desire to obtain some conviction of\nthe inner and essential character of life. Though so intimately\nconnected with practical concerns, these issues are primarily the\nbusiness of thought. In grappling with them, thought is called upon for\nits greatest comprehensiveness, penetration, and self-consistency. By\nthe necessity of concentration, thought is sometimes led to forget its\norigin and the source of its problems. But in naming itself philosophy,\nthought has only recognized the definiteness and earnestness of its\nlargest task. Philosophy is still thought about life, representing but\nthe deepening and broadening of the common practical thoughtfulness.\n\nWe who began together at the starting-point of _life_, have now entered\ntogether the haven of _philosophy_. It is not a final haven, but only\nthe point of departure for the field of philosophy proper. Nevertheless\nthat field is now in the plain view of the man who occupies the\npractical stand-point. He must recognize in philosophy a kind of\nreflection that differs only in extent and persistence from the\nreflection that guides and justifies his life. He may not consciously\nidentify himself with any one of the three general groups which have\nbeen characterized. But if he is neither an idealist, nor a philistine,\nnor a pleasure lover, surely he is compounded of such elements, and does\nnot escape their implications. He desires something most of all, even\nthough his highest ideal be only an inference from the gradation of his\nimmediate purposes. This highest ideal represents what he conceives to\nbe the greatest worth or value attainable in the universe, and its\nadoption is based upon the largest generalization that he can make or\nborrow. The complete justification of his ideal would involve a true\nknowledge of the essential character of the universe. For such knowledge\nhe substitutes either authority or his own imperfect insight. But in\neither case his life is naturally and organically correlated with a\n_thought about the universe in its totality, or in its deepest and\nessential character_. Such thought, the activity and its results, is\nphilosophy. Hence he who lives is, _ipso facto_, a philosopher. He is\nnot only a potential philosopher, but a partial philosopher. He has\nalready begun to be a philosopher. Between the fitful or prudential\nthinking of some little man of affairs, and the sustained thought of the\ndevoted lover of truth, there is indeed a long journey, but it is a\nstraight journey along the same road. Philosophy is neither accidental\nnor supernatural, but inevitable and normal. Philosophy is not properly\na vocation, but the ground and inspiration of all vocations. In the\nhands of its devotees it grows technical and complex, as do all efforts\nof thought, and to pursue philosophy bravely and faithfully is to\nencounter obstacles and labyrinths innumerable. The general problem of\nphilosophy is mother of a whole brood of problems, little and great. But\nwhether we be numbered among its devotees, or their beneficiaries, an\nequal significance attaches to the truth that philosophy is continuous\nwith life.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nPOETRY AND PHILOSOPHY\n\n\n[Sidenote: Who is the Philosopher-Poet?]\n\nSect. 7. As the ultimate criticism of all human interests, philosophy\nmay be approached by avenues as various as these interests. Only when\nphilosophy is discovered as the implication of well-recognized special\ninterests, is the significance of its function fully appreciated. For\nthe sake of such a further understanding of philosophy, those who find\neither inspiration or entertainment in poetry are invited in the present\nchapter to consider certain of the relations between poetry and\nphilosophy.\n\nWe must at the very outset decline to accept unqualifiedly the poet's\nopinion in the matter, for he would not think it presumptuous to\nincorporate philosophy in poetry. \"No man,\" said Coleridge, \"was ever\nyet a great poet without being at the same time a great philosopher.\"\nThis would seem to mean that a great poet is a great philosopher, and\nmore too. We shall do better to begin with the prosaic and matter of\nfact minimum of truth: some poetry is philosophical. This will enable\nus to search for the portion of philosophy that is in some poetry,\nwithout finally defining their respective boundaries. It may be that all\ntrue poetry is philosophical, as it may be that all true philosophy is\npoetical; but it is much more certain that much actual poetry is far\nfrom philosophical, and that most actual philosophy was not conceived or\nwritten by a poet. The mere poet and the mere philosopher must be\ntolerated, if it be only for the purpose of shedding light upon the\nphilosopher-poet and the poet-philosopher. And it is to the\nphilosopher-poet that we turn, in the hope that under the genial spell\nof poetry we may be brought with understanding to the more forbidding\nland of philosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Poetry as Appreciation.]\n\nSect. 8. Poetry is well characterized, though not defined, as an\ninterpretation of life. The term \"life\" here signifies the human\npurposive consciousness, and active pursuit of ends. An interpretation\nof life is, then, a selection and account of such values in human\nexperience as are actually sought or are worth the seeking. For the poet\nall things are good or bad, and never only matters of fact. He is\nneither an annalist nor a statistician, and is even an observer only\nfor the sake of a higher design. He is one who appreciates, and\nexpresses his appreciation so fittingly that it becomes a kind of truth,\nand a permanently communicable object. That \"unbodied joy,\" the\nskylark's song and flight, is through the genius of Shelley so\nfaithfully embodied, that it may enter as a definite joy into the lives\nof countless human beings. The sensuous or suggestive values of nature\nare caught by the poet's quick feeling for beauty, and fixed by his\ncreative activity. Or with his ready sympathy he may perceive the value\nof some human ideal or mastering passion, and make it a reality for our\ncommon feeling. Where the poet has to do with the base and hateful, his\nattitude is still appreciative. The evil is apprehended as part of a\ndramatic whole having positive moral or aesthetic value. Moral ideas may\nappear in both poetry and life as the inspiration and justification of\nstruggle. Where there is no conception of its moral significance, the\nrepulsive possesses for the poet's consciousness the aesthetic value of\ndiversity and contrast. Even where the evil and ugly is isolated, as in\ncertain of Browning's dramatic monologues, it forms, both for the poet\nand the reader, but a part of some larger perception of life or\ncharacter, which is sublime or beautiful or good. Poetry involves,\nthen, the discovery and presentation of human experiences that are\nsatisfying and appealing. It is a language for human pleasures and\nideals. Poetry is without doubt a great deal more than this, and only\nafter a careful analysis of its peculiar language could one distinguish\nit from kindred arts; but it will suffice for our purposes to\ncharacterize and not differentiate. Starting from this most general\ntruth respecting poetry, we may now look for that aspect of it whereby\nit may be a witness of philosophical truth.\n\n[Sidenote: Sincerity in Poetry. Whitman.]\n\nSect. 9. For the answer to our question, we must turn to an examination\nof the intellectual elements of poetry. In the first place, the common\ndemand that the poet shall be accurate in his representations is\nsuggestive of an indispensable intellectual factor in his genius. As we\nhave seen, he is not to reproduce nature, but the human appreciative\nexperience of nature. Nevertheless, he must even here be true to his\nobject. His art involves his ability to express genuinely and sincerely\nwhat he himself experiences in the presence of nature, or what he can\ncatch of the inner lives of others by virtue of his intelligent\nsympathy. No amount of emotion or even of imagination will profit a\npoet, unless he can render a true account of them. To be sure, he need\nnot define, or even explain; for it is his function to transfer the\nimmediate qualities of experience: but he must be able to speak the\ntruth, and, in order to speak it, he must have known it. In all this,\nhowever, we have made no demand that the poet should see more than one\nthing at a time. Sincerity of expression does not require what is\ndistinctly another mode of intelligence, _comprehensiveness of view_. It\nis easier, and accordingly more usual, to render an account of the\nmoments and casual units of experience, than of its totality. There are\npoets, little and great, who possess the intellectual virtue of\nsincerity, without the intellectual power of synthesis and\nreconciliation. This distinction will enable us to separate the\nintelligence exhibited in all poetry, from that distinct form of\nintelligence exhibited in such poetry as is properly to be called\nphilosophical.\n\nThe \"barbarian\" in poetry has recently been defined as \"the man who\nregards his passions as their own excuse for being; who does not\ndomesticate them either by understanding their cause or by conceiving\ntheir ideal goal.\"[28:1] One will readily appreciate the application of\nthis definition to Walt Whitman. What little unity there is in this\npoet's world, is the composition of a purely sensuous experience,\n\n \"The earth expending right hand and left hand,\n The picture alive, every part in its best light,\n The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where\n it is not wanted.\"\n\nIn many passages Whitman manifests a marvellous ability to discover and\ncommunicate a fresh gladness about the commonest experiences. We cannot\nbut rejoice with him in all sights and sounds. But though we cannot deny\nhim truth, his truth is honesty and not understanding. The experiences\nin which he discovers so much worth, are random and capricious, and do\nnot constitute a universe. To the solution of ultimate questions he\ncontributes a sense of mystery, and the conviction\n\n \"That you are here--that life exists and identity,\n That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.\"\n\nHis world is justly described by the writer just quoted as \"a\nphantasmagoria of continuous visions, vivid, impressive, but monotonous\nand hard to distinguish in memory, like the waves of the sea or the\ndecorations of some barbarous temple, sublime only by the infinite\naggregation of parts.\"[30:2]\n\nAs is Walt Whitman, so are many poets greater and less. Some who have\nseen the world-view, exhibit the same particularism in their lyric\nmoods; although, generally speaking, a poet who once has comprehended\nthe world, will see the parts of it in the light of that wisdom. But\nWalt Whitman is peculiarly representative of the poetry that can be\ntrue, without being wise in the manner that we shall come shortly to\nunderstand as the manner of philosophy. He is as desultory in his poet\nraptures as is the common man when he lives in his immediate\nexperiences. The truth won by each is the clear vision of one thing, or\nof a limited collection of things, and not the broad inclusive vision of\nall things.\n\n[Sidenote: Constructive Knowledge in Poetry. Shakespeare.]\n\nSect. 10. The transition from Whitman to Shakespeare may seem somewhat\nabrupt, but the very differences between these poets serve to mark out\nan interesting affinity. Neither has put any unitary construction upon\nhuman life and its environment. Neither, as poet, is the witness of any\nworld-view; which will mean for us that neither is a philosopher-poet.\nAs respects Shakespeare, this is a hard saying. We are accustomed to the\ncritical judgment that finds in the Shakespearian dramas an apprehension\nof the universal in human life. But though this judgment is true, it is\nby no means conclusive as respects Shakespeare's relation to the\nphilosophical type of thought. For there can be universality without\nphilosophy. Thus, to know the groups and the marks of the vertebrates is\nto know a truth which possesses generality, in contradistinction to the\nparticularism of Whitman's poetic consciousness. Even so to know well\nthe groups and marks of human character, vertebrate and invertebrate, is\nto know that of which the average man, in his hand to hand struggle with\nlife, is ignorant. Such a wisdom Shakespeare possessed to a unique\ndegree, and it enabled him to reconstruct human life. He did not merely\nperceive human states and motives, but he understood human nature so\nwell that he could create consistent men and women. Moreover,\nShakespeare's knowledge was not only thus universal in being a knowledge\nof general groups and laws, but also in respect of its extensity. His\nunderstanding was as rich as it was acute. It is true, then, that\nShakespeare read human life as an open book, knowing certainly the\nmanner of human thinking and feeling, and the power and interplay of\nhuman motives. But it is equally true, on the other hand, that he\npossessed no unitary conception of the meaning and larger relations of\nhuman life. Such a conception might have been expressed either by means\nof the outlook of some dominating and persistent type of personality, or\nby a pervading suggestion of some constant world-setting for the\nvariable enterprise of mankind. It could appear only provided the poet's\nappreciation of life in detail were determined by an interpretation of\nthe meaning of life as a whole. Shakespeare apparently possessed no such\ninterpretation. Even when Hamlet is groping after some larger truth that\nmay bear upon the definite problems of life, he represents but one, and\nthat a strange and unusual, type of human nature. And Hamlet's\nreflections, it should be noted, have no outcome. There is no\nShakespearian answer to the riddles that Hamlet propounds. The poet's\ngenius is not less amazing for this fact; indeed, his peculiar\ndistinction can only be comprehended upon this basis. Shakespeare put no\nconstruction upon life, and by virtue of this very reserve accomplished\nan art of surpassing fidelity and vividness. The absence of philosophy\nin Shakespeare, and the presence of the most characteristic quality of\nhis genius, may both be imputed by the one affirmation, that _there is\nno Shakespearian point of view_.\n\nThis truth signifies both gain and loss. The philosophical criticism of\nlife may vary from the ideal objectivity of absolute truth, to the\nsubjectivity of a personal religion. Philosophy aims to correct the\npartiality of particular points of view by means of a point of view that\nshall comprehend their relations, and effect such reconciliations or\ntransformations as shall enable them to constitute a universe.\nPhilosophy always assumes the hypothetical view of omniscience. The\nnecessity of such a final criticism is implicit in every scientific item\nof knowledge, and in every judgment that is passed upon life. Philosophy\nmakes a distinct and peculiar contribution to human knowledge by its\nheroic effort to measure all knowledges and all ideals by the standard\nof totality. Nevertheless it is significant that no human individual can\npossibly possess the range of omniscience. The most adequate knowledge\nof which any generation of men is capable, will always be that which is\nconceived by the most synthetic and vigorously metaphysical minds; but\nevery individual philosophy will nevertheless be a premature synthesis.\nThe effort to complete knowledge is the indispensable test of the\nadequacy of prevailing conceptions, but the completed knowledge of any\nindividual mind will shortly become an historical monument. It will\nbelong primarily to the personal life of its creator, as the\narticulation of his personal covenant with the universe. There is a\nsound justification for such a conclusion of things in the case of the\nindividual, for the conditions of human life make it inevitable; but it\nwill always possess a felt unity, and many distinct features, that are\nprivate and subjective. Now such a projection of personality, with its\ncoloring and its selection, Shakespeare has avoided; and very largely as\na consequence, his dramas are a storehouse of genuine human nature.\nAmbition, mercy, hate, madness, guilelessness, conventionality, mirth,\nbravery, deceit, purity--these, and all human states and attributes save\npiety, are upon his pages as real, and as mysterious withal, as they are\nin the great historical society. For an ordinary reader, these states\nand attributes are more real in Hamlet or Lear than in his own direct\nexperience, because in Hamlet and Lear he can see them with the eye and\nintelligence of genius. But Shakespeare is the world all over again,\nand there is loss as well as gain in such realism. Here is human life,\nno doubt, and a brilliant pageantry it is; but human life as varied and\nas problematic as it is in the living. Shakespeare's fundamental\nintellectual resource is the historical and psychological knowledge of\nsuch principles as govern the construction of human natures. The goods\nfor which men undertake, and live or die, are any goods, justified only\nby the actual human striving for them. The virtues are the old winning\nvirtues of the secular life, and the heroisms of the common conscience.\nBeyond its empirical generality, his knowledge is universal only in the\nsense that space and time are universal. His consciousness _contains_\nits representative creations, and expresses them unspoiled by any\ntransforming thought. His poetic consciousness is like the very stage to\nwhich he likens all the world: men and women meet there, and things\nhappen there. The stage itself creates no unity save the occasion and\nthe place. Shakespeare's consciousness is universal because it is a fair\nfield with no favors. But even so it is particular, because, though each\nmay enter and depart in peace, when all enter together there is anarchy\nand a babel of voices. All Shakespeare is like all the world seen\nthrough the eyes of each of its inhabitants. Human experience in\nShakespeare is human experience as everyone feels it, as comprehensive\nas the aggregate of innumerable lives. But human experience in\nphilosophy is the experience of all as thought by a synthetic mind.\nHence the wealth of life depicted by Shakespeare serves only to point\nout the philosopher's problem, and to challenge his powers. Here he will\nfind material, and not results; much to philosophize about, but no\nphilosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Philosophy in Poetry. The World-View. Omar Khayyam.]\n\nSect. 11. The discussion up to this point has attributed to poetry very\ndefinite intellectual factors that nevertheless do not constitute\nphilosophy. Walt Whitman speaks his feeling with truth, but in general\nmanifests no comprehensive insight. Shakespeare has not only sincerity\nof expression but an understanding mind. He has a knowledge not only of\nparticular experiences, but of human nature; and a consciousness full\nand varied like society itself. But there is a kind of knowledge\npossessed by neither, the knowledge sought by coordinating all aspects\nof human experience, both particular and general. Not even Shakespeare\nis wise as one who, having seen the whole, can fundamentally interpret a\npart. But though the philosopher-poet may not yet be found, we cannot\nlonger be ignorant of his nature. He will be, like all poets, one who\nappreciates experiences or finds things good, and he will faithfully\nreproduce the values which he discovers. But he must _justify himself in\nview of the fundamental nature of the universe_. The values which he\napprehends must be harmonious, and so far above the plurality of goods\nas to transcend and unify them. The philosopher-poet will find reality\nas a whole to be something that accredits the order of values in his\ninner life. He will not only find certain things to be most worthy\nobjects of action or contemplation, but he will see why they are worthy,\nbecause he will have construed the judgment of the universe in their\nfavor.\n\nIn this general sense, Omar Khayyam is a philosopher-poet. To be sure\nhis universe is quite the opposite of that which most poets conceive,\nand is perhaps profoundly antagonistic to the very spirit of poetry; but\nit is none the less true that the joys to which Omar invites us are such\nas his universe prescribes for human life.\n\n \"Some for the Glories of This World; and some\n Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;\n Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,\n Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum.\"\n\nHerein is both poetry and philosophy, albeit but a poor brand of each.\nWe are invited to occupy ourselves only with spiritual cash, because the\nuniverse is spiritually insolvent. The immediately gratifying feelings\nare the only feelings that the world can guarantee. Omar Khayyam is a\nphilosopher-poet, because his immediate delight in \"youth's\nsweet-scented manuscript\" is part of a consciousness that vaguely sees,\nthough it cannot grasp, \"this sorry scheme of things entire.\"\n\n \"Drink for you know not whence you come, nor why;\n Drink for you know not why you go, nor where.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Wordsworth.]\n\nSect. 12. But the poet in his world-view ordinarily sees other than\ndarkness. The same innate spiritual enterprise that sustains religious\nfaith leads the poet more often to find the universe positively\ncongenial to his ideals, and to ideals in general. He interprets human\nexperience in the light of the spirituality of all the world. It is to\nWordsworth that we of the present age are chiefly indebted for such\nimagery, and it will profit us to consider somewhat carefully the\nphilosophical quality of his poetry.\n\nWalter Pater, in introducing his appreciation of Wordsworth, writes that\n\"an intimate consciousness of the expression of natural things, which\nweighs, listens, penetrates, where the earlier mind passed roughly by,\nis a large element in the complexion of modern poetry.\" We recognize at\nonce the truth of this characterization as applied to Wordsworth. But\nthere is something more distinguished about this poet's sensibility even\nthan its extreme fineness and delicacy; a quality that is suggested,\nthough not made explicit, by Shelley's allusion to Wordsworth's\nexperience as \"a sort of thought in sense.\" Nature possessed for him not\nmerely enjoyable and describable characters of great variety and\nminuteness, but an immediately apprehended unity and meaning. It would\nbe a great mistake to construe this meaning in sense as analogous to the\ncrude symbolism of the educator Froebel, to whom, as he said, \"the world\nof crystals proclaimed, in distinct and univocal terms, the laws of\nhuman life.\" Wordsworth did not attach ideas to sense, but regarded\nsense itself as a communication of truth. We readily call to mind his\nunique capacity for apprehending the characteristic flavor of a certain\nplace in a certain moment of time, the individuality of a situation. Now\nin such moments he felt that he was receiving intelligences, none the\nless direct and significant for their inarticulate form. Like the boy\non Windermere, whom he himself describes,\n\n \"while he hung\n Loitering, a gentle shock of mild surprise\n Has carried far into his heart the voice\n Of mountain torrents; or the visible scene\n Would enter unawares into his mind,\n With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,\n Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received\n Into the bosom of the steady lake.\"\n\nFor our purpose it is essential that we should recognize in this\nappreciation of nature, expressed in almost every poem that Wordsworth\nwrote, a consciousness respecting the fundamental nature of the world.\nConversation, as we know, denotes an interchange of commensurable\nmeanings. Whatever the code may be, whether words or the most subtle\nform of suggestion, communication is impossible without community of\nnature. Hence, in believing himself to be holding converse with the\nso-called physical world, Wordsworth conceives that world as\nfundamentally like himself. He finds the most profound thing in all the\nworld to be the universal spiritual life. In nature this life manifests\nitself most directly, clothed in its own proper dignity and peace. But\nit may be discovered in the humanity that is most close to nature, in\nthe avocations of plain and simple people, and the unsophisticated\ndelights of children; and, with the perspective of contemplation, even\n\"among the multitudes of that huge city.\"\n\nSo Wordsworth is rendering a true account of his own experience of\nreality when, as in \"The Prelude,\" he says unequivocally:\n\n \"A gracious spirit o'er this earth presides,\n And in the heart of man; invisibly\n It comes to works of unreproved delight,\n And tendency benign; directing those\n Who care not, know not, think not, what they do.\"\n\nWordsworth is not a philosopher-poet because by searching his pages we\ncan find an explicit philosophical creed such as this, but because all\nthe joys of which his poet-soul compels him to sing have their peculiar\nnote, and compose their peculiar harmony, by virtue of such an\nindwelling consciousness. Here is one who is a philosopher in and\nthrough his poetry. He is a philosopher in so far as the detail of his\nappreciation finds fundamental justification in a world-view. From the\nimmanence of \"the universal heart\" there follows, not through any\nmediate reasoning, but by the immediate experience of its propriety, a\nconception of that which is of supreme worth in life. The highest and\nbest of which life is capable is contemplation, or the consciousness of\nthe universal indwelling of God. Of those who fail to live thus\nfittingly in the midst of the divine life, Walter Pater speaks for\nWordsworth as follows:\n\n \"To higher or lower ends they move too often with something of\n a sad countenance, with hurried and ignoble gait, becoming,\n unconsciously, something like thorns, in their anxiety to bear\n grapes; it being possible for people, in the pursuit of even\n great ends, to become themselves thin and impoverished in\n spirit and temper, thus diminishing the sum of perfection in\n the world at its very sources.\"[42:3]\n\nThe quiet and worshipful spirit, won by the cultivation of the emotions\nappropriate to the presence of nature and society, is the mark of the\ncompletest life and the most acceptable service. Thus for Wordsworth the\nmeaning of life is inseparable from the meaning of the universe. In\napprehending that which is good and beautiful in human experience, he\nwas attended by a vision of the totality of things. Herein he has had to\ndo, if not with the form, at any rate with the very substance of\nphilosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Dante.]\n\nSect. 13. Unquestionably the supreme philosopher-poet is Dante. He is\nnot only philosophical in the temper of his mind, but his greatest poem\nis the incarnation of a definite system of philosophy, the most\ndefinite that the world has seen. That conception of the world which in\nthe thirteenth century found argumentative and orderly expression in the\n\"Summa Theologiae\" of Thomas of Aquino, and constituted the faith of the\nchurch, is visualized by Dante, and made the basis of an interpretation\nof life.\n\nThe \"Divina Commedia\" deals with all the heavens to the Empyrean itself,\nand with all spiritual life to the very presence of God. It derives its\nimagery from the cosmology of the day, its dramatic motive from the\nChristian and Greek conceptions of God and his dealings with the world.\nSin is punished because of the justice of God; knowledge, virtue, and\nfaith lead, through God's grace and mercy manifested in Christ, to a\nperpetual union with Him. Hell, purgatory, and paradise give place and\nsetting to the events of the drama. But the deeper meaning of the poem\nis allegorical. In a letter quoted by Lowell, Dante writes:\n\n \"The literal subject of the whole work is the state of the\n soul after death, simply considered. But if the work be taken\n allegorically the subject is man, as by merit or demerit,\n through freedom of the will, he renders himself liable to the\n reward or punishment of justice.\"[43:4]\n\nIn other words, the inner and essential meaning of the poem has to do\nnot with external retribution, but with character, and the laws which\ndetermine its own proper ruin or perfection. The punishments described\nin the \"Inferno\" are accounts of the state of guilt itself, implications\nof the will that has chosen the part of brutishness. Sin itself is\ndamnable and deadening, but the knowledge that the soul that sinneth\nshall die is the first way of emancipation from sin. The guidance of\nVirgil through hell and purgatory signifies the knowledge of good and\nevil, or moral insight, as the guide of man through this life of\nstruggle and progress. The earthly paradise, at the close of the\n\"Purgatorio,\" represents the highest state to which human character can\nattain when choice is determined by ordinary experience, intelligence,\nand understanding. Here man stands alone, endowed with an enlightened\nconscience. Here are uttered the last words of Virgil to Dante, the\nexplorer of the spiritual country:\n\n \"Expect no more or word or sign from me. Free, upright, and\n sane is thine own free will, and it would be wrong not to act\n according to its pleasure; wherefore thee over thyself I crown\n and mitre.\"[44:5]\n\nBut moral self-reliance is not the last word. As Beatrice, the image of\ntenderness and holiness, comes to Dante in the earthly paradise, and\nleads him from the summit of purgatory into the heaven of heavens, and\neven to the eternal light; so there is added to the mere human,\nintellectual, and moral resources of the soul, the sustaining power of\nthe divine grace, the illuminating power of divine truth, and the\ntransforming power of divine love. Through the aid of this higher\nwisdom, the journey of life becomes the way to God. Thus the allegorical\ntruth of the \"Divina Commedia\" is not merely an analysis of the moral\nnature of man, but the revelation of a universal spiritual order,\nmanifesting itself in the moral evolution of the individual, and above\nall in his ultimate community with the eternal goodness.\n\n \"Thou shouldst not, if I deem aright, wonder more at thy\n ascent, than at a stream if from a high mountain it descends\n to the base. A marvel it would be in thee, if, deprived of\n hindrance, thou hadst sat below, even as quiet by living fire\n in earth would be.\"[45:6]\n\nSuch, in brief, is Dante's world-view, so suggestive of the freer\nidealistic conceptions of later thought as to justify a recent\ncharacterization of him as one who, \"accepting without a shadow of a\ndoubt or hesitation all the constitutive ideas of mediaeval thought and\nlife, grasped them so firmly and gave them such luminous expression that\nthe spirit in them broke away from the form.\"[46:7]\n\nBut it must be added, as in the case of Wordsworth, that Dante is a\nphilosopher-poet not because St. Thomas Aquinas appears and speaks with\nauthority in the Thirteenth Canto of the \"Paradiso,\" nor even because a\nphilosophical doctrine can be consistently formulated from his writings,\nbut because his consciousness of life is informed with a sense of its\nuniversal bearings. There is a famous passage in the Twenty-second Canto\nof the \"Paradiso,\" in which Dante describes himself as looking down upon\nthe earth from the starry heaven.\n\n \"'Thou art so near the ultimate salvation,' began Beatrice,\n 'that thou oughtest to have thine eyes clear and sharp. And\n therefore ere thou further enterest it, look back downward,\n and see how great a world I have already set beneath thy feet,\n in order that thy heart, so far as it is able, may present\n itself joyous to the triumphant crowd which comes glad through\n this round ether.' With my sight I returned through each and\n all the seven spheres, and saw this globe such that I smiled\n at its mean semblance; and that counsel I approve as the best\n which holds it of least account; and he who thinks of other\n things maybe called truly worthy.\"\n\nDante's scale of values is that which appears from the starry heaven.\nHis austere piety, his invincible courage, and his uncompromising hatred\nof wrong, are neither accidents of temperament nor blind reactions, but\ncompose the proper character of one who has both seen the world from\nGod, and returned to see God from the world. He was, as Lowell has said,\n\"a man of genius who could hold heartbreak at bay for twenty years, and\nwould not let himself die till he had done his task\"; and his power was\nnot obstinacy, but a vision of the ways of God. He knew a truth that\njustified him in his sacrifices, and made a great glory of his defeat\nand exile. Even so his poetry or appreciation of life is the expression\nof an inward contemplation of the world in its unity or essence. It is\nbut an elaboration of the piety which he attributes to the lesser saints\nof paradise, when he has them say:\n\n \"Nay, it is essential to this blessed existence to hold\n ourselves within the divine will, whereby our very wills are\n made one. So that as we are from stage to stage throughout\n this realm, to all the realm is pleasing, as to the King who\n inwills us with His will. And His will is our peace; it is\n that sea whereunto is moving all that which It creates and\n which nature makes.\"[47:8]\n\n[Sidenote: The Difference between Poetry and Philosophy.]\n\nSect. 14. There now remains the brief task of distinguishing the\nphilosopher-poet from the philosopher himself. The philosopher-poet is\none who, having made the philosophical point of view his own, expresses\nhimself in the form of poetry. The philosophical point of view is that\nfrom which the universe is comprehended in its totality. The wisdom of\nthe philosopher is the knowledge of each through the knowledge of all.\nWherein, then, does the poet, when possessed of such wisdom, differ from\nthe philosopher proper? To this question one can give readily enough the\ngeneral answer, that the difference lies in the mode of utterance.\nFurthermore, we have already given some account of the peculiar manner\nof the poet. He invites us to experience with him the beautiful and\nmoving in nature and life. That which the poet has to express, and that\nwhich he aims to arouse in others, is an appreciative experience. He\nrequires what Wordsworth calls \"an atmosphere of sensation in which to\nmove his wings.\" Therefore if he is to be philosophical in intelligence,\nand yet essentially a poet, he must find his universal truth in\nimmediate experience. He must be one who, in seeing the many, sees the\none. The philosopher-poet is he who visualizes a fundamental\ninterpretation of the world. \"A poem,\" says one poet, \"is the very image\nof life expressed in its eternal truth.\"\n\nThe philosopher proper, on the other hand, has the sterner and less\ninviting task of rendering such an interpretation articulate to thought.\nThat which the poet sees, the philosopher must define. That which the\npoet divines, the philosopher must calculate. The philosopher must dig\nfor that which the poet sees shining through. As the poet transcends\nthought for the sake of experience, the philosopher must transcend\nexperience for the sake of thought. As the poet sees all, and all in\neach, so the philosopher, knowing each, must think all consistently\ntogether, and then know each again. It is the part of philosophy to\ncollect and criticise evidence, to formulate and coordinate conceptions,\nand finally to define in exact terms. The reanimation of the structure\nof thought is accomplished primarily in religion, which is a general\nconception of the world made the basis of daily living.\n\nFor religion there is no subjective correlative less than life itself.\nPoetry is another and more circumscribed means of restoring thought to\nlife. By the poet's imagination, and through the art of his expression,\nthought may be sensuously perceived. \"If the time should ever come,\"\nsays Wordsworth, \"when what is now called Science, thus familiarized to\nmen, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh, and blood,\nthe Poet will lend his divine spirit to aid the transfiguration, and\nwill welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of\nthe household of man.\"[50:9] As respects truth, philosophy has an\nindubitable priority. The very sternness of the philosopher's task is\ndue to his supreme dedication to truth. But if validity be the merit of\nphilosophy, it can well be supplemented by immediacy, which is the merit\nof poetry. Presuppose in the poet conviction of a sound philosophy, and\nwe may say with Shelley, of his handiwork, that \"it is the perfect and\nconsummate surface and bloom of all things; it is as the odor and the\ncolor of the rose to the texture of the elements which compose it, as\nthe form and splendor of unfaded beauty to the secrets of anatomy and\ncorruption.\" \"Indeed,\" as he adds, \"what were our consolations on this\nside of the grave--and our aspirations beyond it--if poetry did not\nascend to bring light and fire from those eternal regions where the\nowl-winged faculty of calculation dare not ever soar?\"[51:10]\n\nThe unity in outlook, attended by differences of method and form, which\nmay exist between poet and philosopher, is signally illustrated by the\nrelation between Goethe and Spinoza. What Goethe saw and felt, Spinoza\nproved and defined. The universal and eternal substance was to Spinoza,\nas philosopher, a theorem, and to Goethe, as poet, a perception and an\nemotion. Goethe writes to Jacobi that when philosophy \"lays itself out\nfor division,\" he cannot get on with it, but when it \"confirms our\noriginal feeling as though we were one with nature,\" it is welcome to\nhim. In the same letter Goethe expresses his appreciation of Spinoza as\nthe complement of his own nature:\n\n \"His all-reconciling peace contrasted with my all-agitating\n endeavor; his intellectual method was the opposite counterpart\n of my poetic way of feeling and expressing myself; and even\n the inflexible regularity of his logical procedure, which\n might be considered ill-adapted to moral subjects, made me his\n most passionate scholar and his devoted adherent. Mind and\n heart, understanding and sense, were drawn together with an\n inevitable elective affinity, and this at the same time\n produced an intimate union between individuals of the most\n different types.\"[51:11]\n\nIt appears, then, that some poets share with all philosophers that\npoint of view from which the horizon line is the boundary of all the\nworld. Poetry is not always or essentially philosophical, but may be so;\nand when the poetic imagination restores philosophy to immediacy, human\nexperience reaches its most exalted state, excepting only religion\nitself, wherein God is both seen and also served. Nor is the part of\nphilosophy in poetry and religion either ignoble or presumptuous, for,\nhumanly speaking, \"the owl-winged faculty of calculation\" is the only\nsafe and sure means of access to that place on high,\n\n \"Where the nightingale doth sing\n Not a senseless, tranced thing,\n But a divine melodious truth;\n Philosophic numbers smooth;\n Tales and golden histories\n Of heaven and its mysteries.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[28:1] George Santayana, in his _Poetry and Religion_, p. 176.\n\n[30:2] Santayana: _op. cit._, p. 180.\n\n[42:3] _Appreciations_, p. 59.\n\n[43:4] Letter to Can Grande. See Lowell's _Essay on Dante_, p. 34.\n\n[44:5] _Purgatorio_, Canto XXVII. Translation by Norton.\n\n[45:6] _Paradiso_, Canto I.\n\n[46:7] Edward Caird, in his _Literature and Philosophy_, Vol. I, p. 24.\n\n[47:8] _Paradiso_, Canto III.\n\n[50:9] Observations prefixed to the second edition of _Lyrical Ballads_.\n\n[51:10] _A Defence of Poetry._\n\n[51:11] Quoted by Caird in his _Literature and Philosophy_, Vol. I, p.\n60.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Possibility of Defining Religion.]\n\nSect. 15. The least religious experience is so mysterious and so complex\nthat a moderate degree of reflection upon it tends to a sense of\nintellectual impotence. \"If I speak,\" says Emerson, \"I define and\nconfine, and am less.\" One would gladly set down religion among the\nunspeakable things and avoid the imputation of degrading it. It is\ncertain that the enterprise of defining religion is at present in\ndisrepute. It has been undertaken so often and so unsuccessfully that\ncontemporary students for the most part prefer to supply a list of\nhistorical definitions of religion, and let their variety demonstrate\ntheir futility. Metaphysicians and psychologists agree that in view of\nthe differences of creed, ritual, organization, conduct, and temperament\nthat have been true of different religions in different times and\nplaces, one may as well abandon the idea that there is a constant\nelement.\n\nBut on the other hand we have the testimony afforded by the name\nreligion; and the ordinary judgments of men to the effect that it\nsignifies something to be religious, and to be more or less religious.\nThere is an elementary logical principle to the effect that a group name\nimplies certain common group characters. Impatience with abstract or\neuphemistic definitions should not blind us to the truth. Even the\npsychologist tends in his description of religious phenomena to single\nout and emphasize what he calls a _typical_ religious experience. And\nthe same applies to the idealist's treatment of the matter.[54:1]\nReligion, he reasons, is essentially a development of which the true\nmeaning can be seen only in the higher stages. The primitive religion is\ntherefore only implicit religion. But lower stages cannot be regarded as\nbelonging to a single development with higher stages, if there be not\nsome actual promise of the later in the earlier, or some element which\nendures throughout. It is unavoidable, then, to assume that in dealing\nwith religion we are dealing with a specific and definable experience.\n\n[Sidenote: The Profitableness of Defining Religion.]\n\nSect. 16. The profitableness of undertaking such a definition is another\nmatter. It may well be that in so human and practical an affair as\nreligion, definition is peculiarly inappropriate. But is there not a\nhuman and practical value in the very defining of religion? Is there not\na demand for it in the peculiar relation that exists between religion\nand the progress of enlightenment? Religion associates itself with the\nhabits of society. The progress of enlightenment means that more or less\nall the time, and very profoundly at certain critical times, society\nmust change its habits. The consequence is that religion is likely to be\nabandoned with the old habits. The need of a new religion is therefore a\nchronic one. The reformer in religion, or the man who wishes to be both\nenlightened and religious, is chiefly occupied with the problem of\ndisentangling religion pure and undefiled from definite discredited\npractices and opinions. And the solution of the problem turns upon some\napprehension of the essence of religion. There is a large amount of\nnecessary and unnecessary tragedy due to the extrinsic connection\nbetween ideas and certain modes of their expression. There can be no\nmore serious and urgent duty than that of expressing as directly, and so\nas truly as possible, the great permanent human concerns. The men to\nwhom educational reform has been largely due have been the men who have\nremembered for their fellows what this whole business of education is\nafter all for. Comenius and Pestalozzi served society by stripping\neducational activity of its historical and institutional accessories,\nand laying bare the genuine human need that these are designed to\nsatisfy. There is a similar virtue in the insistent attempt to\ndistinguish between the essential and the accessory in religion.\n\n[Sidenote: The True Method of Defining Religion.]\n\nSect. 17. Although declining to be discouraged by the conspicuousness of\npast failures in this connection, one may well profit by them. The\namazing complexity of religious phenomena must somehow be seen to be\nconsistent with their common nature. The religious experience must not\nonly be found, but must also be reconciled with \"the varieties of\nreligious experience.\" The inadequacy of the well-known definitions of\nreligion may be attributed to several causes. The commonest fallacy is\nto define religion in terms of a religion. My definition of religion\nmust include my brother's religion, even though he live on the other\nside of the globe, and my ancestor's religion, in spite of his\nprehistoric remoteness. Error may easily arise through the attempt to\ndefine religion in terms of my own religion, or what I conceive to be\nthe true religion. Whatever the relation between ideal religion and\nactual religion, the field of religion contains by common consent cults\nthat must on their own grounds condemn one another; religions that are\nbad religions, and yet religions.\n\nA more enlightened fallacy, and a more dangerous one, is due to the\nsupposition that religion can be defined exclusively in terms of some\ndepartment of human nature. There have been descriptions of religion in\nterms of feeling, intellect, and conduct respectively. But it is always\neasy to overthrow such a description, by raising the question of its\napplication to evidently religious experiences that belong to some other\naspect of life. Religion is not feeling, because there are many\nphlegmatic, God-fearing men whose religion consists in good works.\nReligion is not conduct, for there are many mystics whose very religion\nis withdrawal from the field of action. Religion is not intellection,\nfor no one has ever been able to formulate a creed that is common to all\nreligions. Yet without a doubt one must look for the essence of religion\nin human nature. The present psychological interest in religion has\nemphasized this truth. How, then, may we describe it in terms of\ncertain constant conditions of human life, and yet escape the\nabstractness of the facultative method? Modern psychology suggests an\nanswer in demonstrating the interdependence of knowledge, feeling, and\nvolition.[58:2] The perfect case of this unity is _belief_. The\nbelieving experience is cognitive in intent, but practical and emotional\nas well in content. I believe what I take for granted; and the object of\nmy belief is not merely known, but also felt and acted upon. _What I\nbelieve expresses itself in my total experience._\n\nThere is some hope, then, of an adequate definition of the religious\nexperience, if it be regarded as belonging to the psychological type of\nbelief.[58:3] Belief, however, is a broader category than religion.\nThere must be some _religious type_ of believing. An account of religion\nin terms of believing, and the particular type of it here in question,\nwould, then, constitute the central stem of a psychology of religion,\nand affords the proper conceptions for a description of the religious\nexperience. Even here the reservation must be made that belief is always\nmore than the believing _state_, in that it means to be _true_.[59:4]\nHence to complete an account of religion one should consider its object,\nor its cognitive implications. But this direct treatment of the relation\nbetween religion and philosophy must be deferred until in the present\nchapter we shall have come to appreciate the inwardness of the religious\nconsciousness. To this end we must permit ourselves to be enlightened by\nthe experience of religious people as viewed from within. It is not our\nopinion of a man's religion that is here in question, but the content\nand meaning which it has for him.\n\n \"I would have you,\" says Fielding, in his \"Hearts of Men,\" \"go\n and kneel beside the Mahommedan as he prays at the sunset\n hour, and put your heart to his and wait for the echo that\n will surely come. . . . I would have you go to the hillman\n smearing the stone with butter that his god may be pleased, to\n the woman crying to the forest god for her sick child, to the\n boy before his monks learning to be good. No matter where you\n go, no matter what the faith is called, if you have the\n hearing ear, if your heart is in unison with the heart of the\n world, you will hear always the same song.\"[59:5]\n\n[Sidenote: Religion as Belief.]\n\nSect. 18. The general identification of religion with belief is made\nwithout serious difficulty. The essential factor in belief, is, as we\nhave seen, the reaction of the whole personality to a fixed object or\naccepted situation. A similar principle underlies common judgments about\na man's religion. He is accounted most religious whose religion\npenetrates his life most intimately. In the man whose religion consists\nin the outer exercise of attendance upon church, we recognize the sham.\nHe _appears_ to be religious. He does one of the things which a\nreligious man would do; but an object of religious faith is not the\nconstant environment of his life. He may or may not feel sure of God\nfrom his pew, but God is not among the things that count in his daily\nlife. God does not enter into his calculations or determine his scale of\nvalues. Again, discursive thinking is regarded as an interruption of\nreligion. When I am at pains to justify my religion, I am already\ndoubting; and for common opinion doubt is identical with irreligion. In\nso far as I am religious, my religion stands in no need of\njustification, even though I regard it as justifiable. In my religious\nexperience I am taking something for granted; in other words I act about\nit and feel about it in a manner that is going to be determined by the\nspecial conditions of my mood and temperament. The mechanical and\nprosaic man acknowledges God in his mechanical and prosaic way. He\nbelieves in divine retribution as he believes in commercial or social\nretribution. He is as careful to prepare for the next world as he is to\nbe respectable in this. The poet, on the other hand, believes in God\nafter the manner of his genius. Though he worship God in spirit he may\nconduct his life in an irregular manner peculiar to himself. Difference\nof mood in the same individual may be judged by the same measure. When\nGod is most real to him, brought home to him most vividly, or\nconsciously obeyed, in these moments he is most religious. When, on the\nother hand, God is merely a name to him, and church a routine, or when\nboth are forgotten in the daily occupations, he is least religious. His\nlife on the whole is said to be religious in so far as periods of the\nsecond type are subordinated to periods of the first type. Further\nwell-known elements of belief, corollaries of the above, are evidently\npresent in religion. A certain _imagery remains constant_ throughout an\nindividual's experience. He comes back to it as to a physical object in\nspace. And although religion is sporadically an exclusive and isolated\naffair, it tends strongly to be social. The religious object, or God, is\na social object, common to me and to my neighbor, and presupposed in\nour collective undertakings. This reduction of religion to the type of\nthe believing state should thus provide us with an answer to that old\nand fundamental question concerning the relative priority of faith and\nworks. The test of the faith is in the works, and the works are\nreligious in so far as they are the expression of the faith. Religion is\nnot the doing of anything nor the feeling of anything nor the thinking\nof anything, but the reacting as a whole, in terms of all possible\nactivities of human life, to some accepted situation.\n\n[Sidenote: Religion as Belief in a Disposition or Attitude.]\n\nSect. 19. We may now face the more interesting but difficult question of\nthe special character of religious belief. In spite of the fact that in\nthese days the personality of God is often regarded as a transient\nfeature of religion, that type of belief which throws most light upon\nthe religious experience is the _belief in persons_. Our belief in\npersons consists in the practical recognition of a more or less\npersistent disposition toward ourselves. The outward behavior of our\nfellow-men is construed in terms of the practical bearing of the\nattitude which it implies. The extraordinary feature of such belief is\nthe disproportion between its vividness and the direct evidence for it.\nOf this we are most aware in connection with those personalities which\nwe regard as distinctly friendly or hostile to ourselves. We are always\nmore or less clearly in the presence of our friends and enemies. Their\nwell-wishing or their ill-wishing haunts the scene of our living. There\nis no more important constituent of what the psychologists call our\n\"general feeling tone.\" There are times when we are entirely possessed\nby a state that is either exuberance in the presence of those who love\nus, or awkwardness and stupidity in the presence of those whom we\nbelieve to suspect and dislike us. The latter state may easily become\nchronic. Many men live permanently in the presence of an accusing\naudience. The inner life which expresses itself in the words, \"Everybody\nhates me!\" is perhaps the most common form of morbid self-consciousness.\nOn the other hand, buoyancy of spirits springs largely from a constant\nfaith in the good-will of one's fellows. In this case one is filled with\na sense of security, and is conscious of a sympathetic reinforcement\nthat adds to private joys and compensates for private sorrows. And this\nsense of attitude is wonderfully discriminating. We can feel the\npresence of a \"great man,\" a \"formidable person,\" a superior or\ninferior, one who is interested or indifferent to our talk, and all the\nsubtlest degrees of approval and disapproval.\n\nA similar sensibility may quicken us even in situations where no direct\nindividual attitude to ourselves is implied. We regard places and\ncommunities as congenial when we are in sympathy with the prevailing\npurposes or standards of value. We may feel ill at ease or thoroughly at\nhome in cities where we know no single human soul. Indeed, in a\nmisanthrope like Rousseau (and who has not his Rousseau moods!) the mere\nabsence of social repression arouses a most intoxicating sense of\ntunefulness and security. Nature plays the part of an indulgent parent\nwho permits all sorts of personal liberties.\n\n \"The view of a fine country, a succession of agreeable\n prospects, a free air, a good appetite, and the health I gain\n by walking; the freedom of inns, and the distance from\n everything that can make me recollect the dependence of my\n situation, conspire to free my soul, and give boldness to my\n thoughts, throwing me, in a manner, into the immensity of\n things, where I combine, choose, and appropriate them to my\n fancy, without restraint or fear. I dispose of all nature as I\n please.\"[64:6]\n\n[Sidenote: Religion as Belief in the Disposition of the Residual\nEnvironment, or Universe.]\n\nSect. 20. In such confidence or distrust, inspired originally by the\nsocial environment, and similarly suggested by other surroundings of\nlife, we have the key to the religious consciousness. But it is now time\nto add that in the case of religion these attitudes are concerned with\nthe universal or supernatural rather than with present and normal human\nrelationships. Religious reactions are \"total reactions.\"\n\n \"To get at them,\" says William James, \"you must go behind the\n foreground of existence and reach down to that curious _sense\n of the whole residual cosmos as an everlasting presence_,\n intimate or alien, terrible or amusing, lovable or odious,\n which in some degree everyone possesses. This _sense of the\n world's presence_, appealing as it does to our peculiar\n individual temperament, makes us either strenuous or careless,\n devout or blasphemous, gloomy or exultant about life at large;\n and our reaction, involuntary and inarticulate and often half\n unconscious as it is, is the completest of all our answers to\n the question, 'What is the character of this universe in which\n we dwell?'\"[65:7]\n\nThis _residual environment_, or profounder realm of tradition and\nnature, may have any degree of unity from chaos to cosmos. For religion\nits significance lies in the idea of original and far-reaching power\nrather than in the idea of totality. But that which is at first only\n\"beyond,\" is _practically_ the same object as that which comes in the\ndevelopment of thought to be conceived as the \"world\" or the \"universe.\"\nWe may therefore use these latter terms to indicate the object of\nreligion, until the treatment of special instances shall define it more\nprecisely. Religion is, then, _man's sense of the disposition of the\nuniverse to himself_. We shall expect to find, as in the social\nphenomena with which we have just dealt, that the manifestation of this\nsense consists in a general reaction appropriate to the disposition so\nattributed. He will be fundamentally ill at ease, profoundly confident,\nor will habitually take precautions to be safe. The ultimate nature of\nthe world is here no speculative problem. The savage who could feel some\njoy at living in the universe would be more religious than the sublimest\ndialectician. It is in the vividness of the sense of this presence that\nthe acuteness of religion consists. I am religious in so far as the\nwhole tone and temper of my living reflects a belief as to what the\nuniverse thinks of such as me.\n\n[Sidenote: Examples of Religious Belief.]\n\nSect. 21. The examples that follow are selected because their\ndifferences in personal flavor serve to throw into relief their common\nreligious character. Theodore Parker, in describing his own boyhood,\nwrites as follows:\n\n \"I can hardly think without a shudder of the terrible effect\n the doctrine of eternal damnation had on me. How many, many\n hours have I wept with terror as I lay on my bed, till,\n between praying and weeping, sleep gave me repose. But before\n I was nine years old this fear went away, and I saw clearer\n light in the goodness of God. But for years, say from seven\n till ten, I said my prayers with much devotion, I think, and\n then continued to repeat, 'Lord, forgive my sins,' till sleep\n came on me.\"[67:8]\n\nCompare with this Stevenson's Christmas letter to his mother, in which\nhe says:\n\n \"The whole necessary morality is kindness; and it should\n spring, of itself, from the one fundamental doctrine, Faith.\n If you are sure that God, in the long run, means kindness by\n you, you should be happy; and if happy, surely you should be\n kind.\"[67:9]\n\nHere is destiny frowning and destiny smiling, but in each case so real,\nso present, as to be immediately responded to with helpless terror and\nwith grateful warm-heartedness.\n\nThe author of the \"Imitatio Christi\" speaks thus of the daily living of\nthe Christian:\n\n \"The life of a Christian who has dedicated himself to the\n service of God should abound with eminent virtues of all\n kinds, that he may be really the same person which he is by\n outward appearance and profession. Indeed, he ought not only\n to be the same, but much more, in his inward disposition of\n soul; because he professes to serve a God who sees the inward\n parts, a searcher of the heart and reins, a God and Father of\n spirits: and therefore, since we are always in His sight, we\n should be exceedingly careful to avoid all impurity, all that\n may give offence to Him whose eyes cannot behold iniquity. We\n should, in a word, so far as mortal and frail nature can,\n imitate the blessed angels in all manner of holiness, since\n we, as well as they, are always in His presence. . . . And good\n men have always this notion of the thing. For they depend upon\n God for the success of all they do, even of their best and\n wisest undertakings.\"[68:10]\n\nSuch is to be the practical acknowledgment of God in the routine of\nlife. The more direct response to this presence appears abundantly in\nSt. Augustine's conversation and reminiscence with God.\n\n \"How evil have not my deeds been; or if not my deeds my words;\n or if not my words my will? But Thou, O Lord, art good and\n merciful, and Thy right hand had respect unto the profoundness\n of my death, and removed from the bottom of my heart that\n abyss of corruption. And this was the result, that I willed\n not to do what I willed, and willed to do what thou\n willedst. . . . How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be\n without the delights of trifles! And what at one time I\n feared to lose, it was now a joy to me to put away. For Thou\n didst cast them away from me, Thou true and highest sweetness.\n Thou didst cast them away, and instead of them didst enter in\n Thyself--sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and\n blood; brighter than all light, but more veiled than all\n mysteries; more exalted than all honor, but not to the exalted\n in their own conceits. Now was my soul free from the gnawing\n cares of seeking and getting. . . . And I babbled unto Thee my\n brightness, my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.\"[69:11]\n\nIn these two passages we meet with religious conduct and with the\nsupreme religious experience, the direct worship of God. In each case\nthe heart of the matter is an individual's indubitable conviction of the\nworld's favorable concern for him. The deeper order of things\nconstitutes the real and the profoundly congenial community in which he\nlives.\n\n[Sidenote: Typical Religious Phenomena: Conversion.]\n\nSect. 22. Let us now apply this general account of the religious\nexperience to certain typical religious phenomena: _conversion_;\n_piety_; and religious _instruments_, _symbolisms_, _and_ modes of\n_conveyance_. Although recent study of the phenomenon of _conversion_\nhas brought to light a considerable amount of interesting material,\nthere is some danger of misconceiving its importance. The psychology of\nconversion is primarily the psychology of crisis or radical alteration,\nrather than the psychology of religion. For the majority of religious\nmen and women conversion is an insignificant event, and in very many\ncases it never occurs at all. Religion is more purely present where it\nis normal and monotonous. But this phenomenon is nevertheless highly\nsignificant in that religion and irreligion are placed in close\njuxtaposition, and the contribution of religion at its inception thereby\nemphasized. In general it is found that conversion takes place during\nthe period of adolescence. But this is the time of the most sudden\nexpansion of the environment of life; a time when there is the awakening\nconsciousness of many a new presence. This is sometimes expressed by\nsaying that it is a period of acute self-consciousness. Life is\nconscious of itself as over against its inheritance; the whole setting\nof life sweeps into view. Some solution of the life problem, some coming\nto terms with the universe, is the normal issue of it. Religious\nconversion signifies, then, that in this fundamental adjustment a man\ndefines and accepts for his life a certain attitude on the part of the\nuniverse. The examples cited by the psychologists, as well as the\ngeneralizations which they derive, bear out this interpretation.\n\n \"General Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army, considers\n that the first vital step in saving outcasts consists in\n making them feel that some decent human being cares enough for\n them to take an interest in the question whether they are to\n rise or sink.\"[71:12]\n\nThe new state is here one of courage and hope stimulated by the glow of\nfriendly interest. The convert is no longer \"out in the cold.\" He is\ntold that the world wishes him well, and this is brought home to him\nthrough representations of the tenderness of Christ, and through the\ndirect ministerings of those who mediate it. But somehow the convert\nmust be persuaded to realize all this. He must _believe_ it before it\ncan mean anything to him. He is therefore urged to pray--a proceeding\nthat is at first ridiculous to him, since it involves taking for granted\nwhat he disbelieves. But therein lies the critical point. It is peculiar\nto the object in this case that it can exist only for one who already\nbelieves in it. The psychologists call this the element of\n\"self-surrender.\" To be converted a man must somehow suffer his\nsurroundings to put into him a new heart, which may thereupon confirm\nits object. Such belief is tremendously tenacious because it so largely\ncreates its own evidence. Once believe that \"God, in the long run, means\nkindness by you,\" and you are likely to stand by it to the end--the more\nso in this case because the external evidence either way is to the\naverage man so insufficient. Such a belief as this is inspired in the\nconvert, not by reasoning, but by all the powers of suggestion that\npersonality and social contagion can afford.\n\n[Sidenote: Piety.]\n\nSect. 23. The psychologists describe _piety_ as a sense of unity. One\nfeels after reading their accounts that they are too abstract. For there\nare many kinds of unity, characteristic of widely varying moods and\nstates. Any state of rapt attention is a state of unity, and this occurs\nin the most secular and humdrum moments of life. Nor does it help\nmatters to say that in the case of religion this unity must have been\npreceded by a state of division; for we cannot properly characterize any\nstate of mind in terms of another state unless the latter be retained in\nthe former. And that which is characteristic of the religious sense of\nunity would seem to be just such an overcoming of difference. There is a\nrecognition of two distinct attitudes, which may be more or less in\nsympathy with one another, but which are both present even in their\nfullest harmony. Were I to be taken out of myself so completely as to\nforget myself, I should inevitably lose that sense of sympathy from\nwhich arises the peculiar exultation of religious faith, a heightened\nexperience of the same type with the freedom and spontaneity that I\nexperience in the presence of those with whom I feel most in accord. The\nfurther graces and powers of religion readily submit to a similar\ndescription. My sense of positive sympathy expresses itself in an\nattitude of well-wishing; living in an atmosphere of kindness I\ninstinctively endeavor to propagate it. My buoyancy is distinctly of\nthat quality which to a lesser degree is due to any sense of social\nsecurity; my power is that of one who works in an environment that\nreenforces him. I experience the objective or even cosmical character of\nmy enterprises. They have a momentum which makes me their instrument\nrather than their perpetrator. A paradoxical relation between religion\nand morality has always interested observers of custom and history.\nReligion is apparently as capable of the most fiendish malevolence as of\nthe most saintly gentleness. Fielding writes that,\n\n \"When religion is brought out or into daily life and used as\n a guide or a weapon in the world it has no effect either for\n good or evil. Its effect is simply in strengthening the heart,\n in blinding the eyes, in deafening the ears. It is an\n intensive force, an intoxicant. It doubles or trebles a man's\n powers. It is an impulsive force sending him headlong down the\n path of emotion, whether that path lead to glory or to infamy.\n It is a tremendous stimulant, that is all.\"[74:13]\n\nReligion does not originate life purposes or define their meaning, but\nstimulates them by the same means that works in all corporate and social\nactivity. To work with the universe is the most tremendous incentive\nthat can appeal to the individual will. Hence in highly ethical\nreligions the power for good exceeds that of any other social and\nspiritual agency. Such religion makes present, actual, and real, that\ngood on the whole which the individual otherwise tends to distinguish\nfrom that which is good for _him_. In daily life the morally valid and\nthe practically urgent are commonly arrayed against one another; but the\nethical religion makes the valid urgent.\n\n[Sidenote: Religious Instruments, Symbolism, and Modes of Conveyance.]\n\nSect. 24. The _instruments_ of religion are legion, and it is in order\nhere only to mention certain prominent cases in which their selection\nwould seem to have direct reference to the provocation and perpetuation\nof such a sense of attitude as we have been describing. This is true in\na general way of all _symbolism_. There is no essential difference\nbetween the religious symbol and such symbols as serve to remind us of\nhuman relationships. In both cases the perceptual absence of will is\ncompensated for by the presence of some object associated with that\nwill. The function of this object is due to its power to revive and\nperpetuate a certain special social atmosphere. But the most important\nvehicle of religion has always been personality. It is, after all, to\npriests, prophets, and believers that religious cults have owed their\nlong life. The traits that mark the prophet are both curious and\nsublime. He is most remarkable for the confidence with which he speaks\nfor the universe. Whether it be due to lack of a sense of humor or to a\nprofound conviction of truth, is indifferent to our purpose. The power\nof such men is undoubtedly in their suggestion of a force greater than\nthey, whose designs they bring directly and socially to the attention of\nmen. The prophet in his prophesying is indeed not altogether\ndistinguished from God, and it is through the mediation of a directly\nperceptible human attitude that a divine attitude gets itself fixed in\nthe imagination of the believer. What is true of the prophet is equally\ntrue of the preacher whose function it is not to represent God in his\nown person, but to depict him with his tongue. It is generally\nrecognized that the preacher is neither a moralizer nor a theologian.\nBut it is less perfectly understood that it is his function to suggest\nthe presence of God. His proper language is that of the imagination, and\nthe picture which he portrays is that of a reciprocal social\nrelationship between man and the Supreme Master of the situation of\nlife. He will not define God or prove God, but introduce Him and talk\nabout Him. And at the same time the association of prayer and worship\nwith his sermon, and the atmosphere created by the meeting together of a\nbody of disciples, will act as the confirmation of his suggestions of\nsuch a living presence.\n\nThe _conveyance_ of any single religious cult from generation to\ngeneration affords a signal illustration of the importance in religion\nof the recognition of attitude. Religions manage somehow to survive any\namount of transformation of creed and ritual. It is not what is done, or\nwhat is thought, that identifies the faith of the first Christians with\nthat of the last, but a certain reckoning with the disposition of God.\nThe successive generations of Christians are introduced into the\nspiritual world of their fathers, with its furnishing of hopes and fears\nremaining substantially the same; and their Christianity consists in\ntheir continuing to live in it with only a slight and gradual\nrenovation. To any given individual God is more or less completely\nrepresented by his elders in the faith in their exhortations and\nministerings; and through them he fixes as the centre of his system an\nimage of God his accuser or redeemer.\n\n[Sidenote: Historical Types of Religion. Primitive Religions.]\n\nSect. 25. The complete verification of this interpretation of the\nreligious experience would require the application of it to the\ndifferent historical cults. In general the examination of such instances\nis entirely beyond the scope of this chapter; but a brief consideration\nmay be given to those which seem to afford reasonable grounds for\nobjection.\n\nFirst, it may be said that in _primitive religions_, notably in\nfetichism, tabooism, and totemism, there is no recognition of a cosmical\nunity. It is quite evident that there is no conception of a universe.\nBut it is equally evident that the natural and historical environment in\nits generality has a very specific practical significance for the\nprimitive believer. It is often said with truth that these earliest\nreligions are more profoundly pantheistic than polytheistic. Man\nrecognizes an all-pervading interest that is capable of being directed\nto himself. The selection of a deity is not due to any special\nqualification for deification possessed by the individual object itself,\nbut to the tacit presumption that, as Thales said, \"all things are full\nof gods.\" The disposition of residual reality manifests to the believer\nno consistency or unity, but it is nevertheless the most constant object\nof his will. He lives in the midst of a capriciousness which he must\nappease if he is to establish himself at all.\n\n[Sidenote: Buddhism.]\n\nSect. 26. Secondly, in the case of _Buddhism_ we are said to meet with a\nreligion that is essentially atheistic.\n\n \"Whether Buddhas arise, O priests, or whether Buddhas do not\n arise, it remains a fact and the fixed and necessary\n constitution of being, that all its constituents are\n transitory.\"[78:14]\n\nThe secret of life lies in the application of this truth:\n\n \"O builder! I've discovered thee!\n This fabric thou shalt ne'er rebuild!\n Thy rafters all are broken now,\n And pointed roof demolished lies!\n This mind has demolition reached,\n And seen the last of all desire!\"[78:15]\n\nThe case of Buddha himself and of the exponents of his purely esoteric\ndoctrine, belong to the reflective type which will presently be given\nspecial consideration. But with the ordinary believer, even where an\nextraneous but almost inevitable polytheism is least in evidence, the\nreligious experience consists in substantially the same elements that\nappear in theistic religions. The individual is here living\nappropriately to the ultimate nature of things, with the ceaseless\nperiods of time in full view. That which is brought home to him is the\nillusoriness and hollowness of things when taken in the spirit of active\nendeavor. The only profound and abiding good is nothingness. While\nnature and society conspire to mock him, Nirvana invites him to its\npeace. The religious course of his life consists in the use of such\nmeans as can win him this end. From the stand-point of the universe he\nhas the sympathy only of that wisdom whose essence is self-destruction.\nAnd this truth is mediated by the imagination of divine sympathy, for\nthe Blessed One remains as the perpetual incarnation of his own\nblessedness.\n\n[Sidenote: Critical Religion.]\n\nSect. 27. Finally there remains the consideration of the bearing of this\ninterpretation upon the more refined and disciplined religions. The\nreligion of the critically enlightened man is less naive and credulous\nin its imagery. God tends to vanish into an ideal or a universal, into\nsome object of theoretical definition. Here we are on that borderland\nwhere an assignment of individual cases can never be made with any\ncertainty of correctness. We can generalize only by describing the\nconditions that such cases must fulfil if they are properly to be\ndenominated religious. And there can be no question of the justice of\nderiving such a description from the reports of historical and\ninstitutional religions. An idealistic philosophy will, then, be a\nreligion just in so far as it is rendered practically vivid by the\nimagination. Such imagination must create and sustain a social\nrelationship. The question of the legitimacy of this imagination is\nanother matter. It raises the issue concerning the judgment of truth\nimplied in religion, and this is the topic of the next chapter. At any\nrate the religious experience _may be_ realized by virtue of the\nmetaphorical or poetical representation of a situation as one of\nintercommunication between persons, where reflective definition at the\nsame time denies it. The human worshipper may supply the personality of\nGod from himself, viewing himself as from the divine stand-point. But\nwhatever faculty supplies this indispensable social quality of religion,\nhe who defines God as the ultimate goodness or the ultimate truth, has\ncertainly not yet worshipped Him. He begins to be religious only when\nsuch an ideal determines the atmosphere of his daily living; when he\nregards the immanence of such an ideal in nature and history as the\nobject of his will; and when he responds to its presence in the spirit\nof his conduct and his contemplation.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[54:1] Cf. Caird: _The Evolution of Religion_, Lectures II, III.\n\n[58:2] Cf. Leuba: _Introduction to a Psychological Study of Religion_,\n_Monist_, Vol. XI, p. 195.\n\n[58:3] Cf. Leuba: _Ibid._\n\n[59:4] Cf. Sect. 29.\n\n[59:5] P. 322.\n\n[64:6] Rousseau: _Confessions_, Book IV, p. 125.\n\n[65:7] William James: _The Varieties of Religious Experience_, p. 35.\nThe italics are mine. I am in the present chapter under constant\nobligation to this wonderfully sympathetic and stimulating book.\n\n[67:8] Chadwick: _Theodore Parker_, p. 18.\n\n[67:9] Stevenson: _Letters_, Vol. I, p. 229.\n\n[68:10] Thomas a Kempis: _Imitation of Christ_, Chap. XIX. Translation\nby Stanhope, p. 44.\n\n[69:11] St. Augustine: _Confessions_, Book I, Chap. I. Translation in\nSchaff: _Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers_, Vol. I, p. 129.\n\n[71:12] James: _Varieties of Religious Experience_, p. 203.\n\n[74:13] Fielding: _op. cit._, p. 152.\n\n[78:14] Warren: _Buddhism in Translations_, p. 14.\n\n[78:15] _Ibid._, p. 83.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE PHILOSOPHICAL IMPLICATIONS OF RELIGION\n\n\n[Sidenote: Resume of Psychology of Religion.]\n\nSect. 28. It has been maintained that religion is closely analogous to\none's belief in the disposition toward one's self of men or communities.\nIn the case of religion this disposition is attributed to the more or\nless vaguely conceived residual environment that is recognized as lying\noutside of the more familiar natural and social relations. After the\nrise of science this residual environment tends to be conceived as a\nunity which is ultimate or fundamental, but for the religious\nconsciousness it is more commonly regarded as a general source of\ninfluence practically worthy of consideration. Such a belief, like all\nbelief, is vitally manifested, with such emphasis upon action, feeling,\nor intellection as temperament and mood may determine.\n\n[Sidenote: Religion Means to be True.]\n\nSect. 29. But if the psychology of belief is the proper starting-point\nfor a description of the religious experience, it is none the less\nsuggestive of the fact that religion, just because it _is_ belief, is\nnot wholly a matter for psychology. For religion _means to be true_, and\nthus submits itself to valuation as a case of knowledge. The\npsychological study of religion is misleading when accepted as a\nsubstitute for philosophical criticism. The religious man takes his\nreligion not as a narcotic, but as an enlightenment. Its subjective\nworth is due at any rate in part to the supposition of its objective\nworth. As in any case of insight, that which warms the heart must have\nsatisfied the mind. The religious experience purports to be the part of\nwisdom, and to afford only such happiness as increasing wisdom would\nconfirm. And the charm of truth cannot survive its truthfulness. Hence,\nthough religion may be described, it cannot be justified, from the\nstand-point of therapeutics. Were such the case it would be the real\nproblem of religious leaders to find a drug capable of giving a\nconstantly pleasant tone to their patient's experience.[83:1] There\nwould be no difference between priests and physicians who make a\nspecialty of nervous diseases, except that the former would aim at a\nmore fundamental and perpetual suggestion of serenity. Now no man wants\nto be even a blessed fool. He does not want to dwell constantly in a\nfictitious world, even if it be after his own heart. He may from the\ncynical point of view actually do so, but if he be religious he thinks\nit is reality, and is satisfied only in so far as he thinks so. He\nregards the man who has said in his heart that there is no God as the\nfool, and not because he may have to suffer for it, but because he is\ncognitively blind to the real nature of things. Piety, on the other\nhand, he regards as the standard experience, the most veracious life.\nHence, it is not an accident that religion has had its creeds and its\ncontroversies, its wars with science and its appeals to philosophy. The\nhistory of these affairs shows that religion commonly fails to\nunderstand the scope of its own demand for truth; but they have issued\nfrom the deep conviction that one's religion is, implicitly, at least,\nin the field of truth; that there are theoretical judgments whose truth\nwould justify or contradict it.\n\nThis general fact being admitted, there remains the task to which the\npresent discussion addresses itself, that of defining the kind of\n_theoretical judgment_ implied in religion, and the relation to this\ncentral cognitive stem of its efflorescences of myth, theology, and\nritual. It is impossible to separate the stem and the efflorescence, or\nto determine the precise spot at which destruction of the tissue would\nprove fatal to the plant, but it is possible to obtain some idea of the\nrelative vitality of the parts.\n\n[Sidenote: Religion Means to be Practically True. God is a Disposition\nfrom which Consequences May Rationally be Expected.]\n\nSect. 30. The difficulty of reaching a definite statement in this matter\nis due to the fact that the truth in which any religious experience\ncentres is a practical and not a scientific truth. A practical truth\ndoes not commit itself to any single scientific statement, and can often\nsurvive the overthrow of that scientific statement in which at any given\ntime it has found expression. In other words, an indefinite number of\nscientific truths are compatible with a single practical truth. An\ninstance of this is the consistency with my expectation of the\nalternation of day and night, of either the Ptolemaic or Copernican\nformulation of the solar system. Now expectation that the sun will rise\nto-morrow is an excellent analogue of my religious belief. Celestial\nmechanics is as relevant to the one as metaphysics to the other. Neither\nis overthrown until a central practical judgment is discredited, and\neither could remain true through a very considerable alteration of\nlogical definition; but neither is on this account exempt from\ntheoretical responsibility. In so far as religion deliberately enters\nthe field of science, and defines its formularies with the historical or\nmetaphysical method, this difficulty does not, of course, exist. Grant\nthat the years of Methuselah's life, or the precise place and manner of\nthe temptation of Jesus, or the definition of Christ in the terms of the\nAthanasian Creed, are constitutive of Christianity, and the survival of\nthat religion will be determined by the solution of ordinary problems of\nhistorical or metaphysical research. But the Christian will very\nproperly claim that his religion is only externally and accidentally\nrelated to such propositions, since they are never or very rarely\nintended in his experience. As religious he is occupied with Christ as\nhis saviour or with God as his protector and judge. The history of Jesus\nor the metaphysics of God essentially concern him only in so far as they\nmay or may not invalidate this relationship. He cares only for the power\nand disposition of the divine, and these are affected by history and\nmetaphysics only in so far as he has definitely put them to such proof.\n\nFor my religion is my sense of a practical situation, and only when\nthat has been proved to be folly has my religion become untrue. My God\nis my practical faith, my plan of salvation. My religion is overthrown\nif I am convinced that I have misconceived the situation and mistaken\nwhat I should do to be saved. The conception of God is very simple\npractically, and very complex theoretically, a fact that confirms its\npractical genesis. My conception of God contains _an idea of my own\ninterests_, _an idea of the disposition of the universe toward my\ninterests_, and _some working plan for the reconciliation of these two\nterms_. These three elements form a practical unity, but each is capable\nof emphasis, and a religion may be transformed through the modification\nof any one of them. It appears, then, as has always been somewhat\nvaguely recognized, that the truth of religion is ethical as well as\nmetaphysical or scientific. My religion will be altered by a change in\nmy conception of what constitutes my real interest, a change in my\nconception of the fundamental causes of reality, or a change in my\nconception of the manner in which my will may or may not affect these\ncauses. God is neither an entity nor an ideal, but always a relation of\nentity to ideal: _reality regarded from the stand-point of its\nfavorableness or unfavorableness to human life, and prescribing for the\nlatter the propriety of a certain attitude_.\n\n[Sidenote: Historical Examples of Religious Truth and Error. The\nReligion of Baal.]\n\nSect. 31. The range of historical examples is limitless, but certain of\nthese are especially calculated to emphasize the application of a\ncriterion to religion. Such is the case with Elijah's encounter with the\nprophets of Baal, as narrated in the Old Testament.\n\n \"And Elijah came near unto all the people, and said, How long\n halt ye between two opinions? If Yahweh be God, follow him:\n but if Baal, then follow him. . . . And call ye on the name of\n your god, and I will call on the name of Yahweh: and the God\n that answereth by fire, let him be God. . . . And Elijah said\n unto the prophets of Baal, Choose you one bullock for\n yourselves, and dress it first; for ye are many; and call on\n the name of your god, but put no fire under. And they took the\n bullock which was given them, and they dressed it, and called\n on the name of Baal from morning even until noon, saying, O\n Baal, hear us. But there was no voice, nor any that\n answered. . . . And it came to pass at noon, that Elijah\n mocked them, and said, Cry aloud: for he is a god; either he\n is musing, or he is gone aside, or he is in a journey, or\n peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked. And they cried\n aloud, and cut themselves after their manner with knives and\n lances, till the blood gushed out upon them. . . . But there\n was neither voice, nor any to answer, nor any that\n regarded.\"[88:2]\n\nThe religion of the followers of Baal here consists in a belief in the\npractical virtue of a mode of address and form of ritual associated with\nthe traditions and customs of a certain social group. The prophets of\nthis cult agree to regard the experiment proposed by Elijah as a crucial\ntest, and that which is disproved from its failure is a plan of action.\nThese prophets relied upon the presence of a certain motivity, from\nwhich a definite response could be evoked by an appeal which they were\npeculiarly able to make; but though \"they prophesied until the time of\nthe offering of the evening oblation,\" there was none that regarded.\n\n[Sidenote: Greek Religion.]\n\nSect. 32. An equally familiar and more instructive example is the\nrefutation of the Greek national religion by Lucretius. The conception\nof life which Lucretius finds unwarranted is best depicted in Homer.\nThere we hear of a society composed of gods and men. Though the gods, on\nthe one hand, have their own history, their affairs are never sharply\nsundered from those of men, who, on the other hand, must constantly\nreckon with them, gauge their attitude, and seek their favor by paying\ntribute to their individual humors and preferences. In the Ninth Book of\nthe \"Iliad,\" Phoenix addresses himself to the recalcitrant Achilles as\nfollows:\n\n \"It fits not one that moves\n The hearts of all, to live unmov'd, and succor hates for loves.\n The Gods themselves are flexible; whose virtues, honors, pow'rs,\n Are more than thine, yet they will bend their breasts as we bend\n ours.\n Perfumes, benign devotions, savors of offerings burn'd,\n And holy rites, the engines are with which their hearts are turn'd,\n By men that pray to them.\"[90:3]\n\nHere is a general recognition of that which makes sacrifice rational. It\nis because he conceives this presupposition to be mistaken, that\nLucretius declares the practices and fears which are founded upon it to\nbe folly. It is the same with all that is practically based upon the\nexpectation of a life beyond the grave. The correction of the popular\nreligion is due in his opinion to that true view of the world taught by\nEpicurus, whose memory Lucretius thus invokes at the opening of the\nThird Book of the \"De Rerum Natura\":\n\n \"Thee, who first wast able amid such thick darkness to raise\n on high so bright a beacon and shed a light on the true\n interests of life, thee I follow, glory of the Greek race,\n and plant now my footsteps firmly fixed in thy imprinted\n marks. . . . For soon as thy philosophy issuing from a\n godlike intellect has begun with loud voice, to proclaim the\n nature of things, the terrors of the mind are dispelled, the\n walls of the world part asunder, I see things in operation\n throughout the whole void: the divinity of the gods is\n revealed and their tranquil abodes which neither winds do\n shake nor clouds drench with rains nor snow congealed by sharp\n frost harms with hoary fall: an ever cloudless ether\n o'ercanopies them, and they laugh with light shed largely\n round. Nature too supplies all their wants and nothing ever\n impairs their peace of mind. But on the other hand the\n Acherusian quarters[91:4] are nowhere to be seen, though earth\n is no bar to all things being descried, which are in operation\n underneath our feet throughout the void.\"[91:5]\n\nIn another passage, after describing the Phrygian worship of Cybele, he\ncomments as follows:\n\n \"All which, well and beautifully as it is set forth and told,\n is yet widely removed from true reason. For the nature of gods\n must ever in itself of necessity enjoy immortality together\n with supreme repose, far removed and withdrawn from our\n concerns; since exempt from every pain, exempt from all\n dangers, strong in its own resources, not wanting aught of us,\n it is neither gained by favors nor moved by anger. . . . The\n earth however is at all time without feeling, and because it\n receives into it the first-beginnings of many things, it\n brings them forth in many ways into the light of the\n sun.\"[91:6]\n\nIf the teaching of Epicurus be true it is evident that those who\noffered hecatombs with the idea that they were thereby mitigating anger,\nor securing special dispensation, were playing the fool. They were\nappealing to a fictitious motivity, one not grounded in \"the nature of\nthings.\" To one for whom the walls of the world had parted asunder, such\na procedure was no longer possible; though he might choose to \"call the\nsea Neptune\" and reverence the earth as \"mother of the gods.\"[92:7]\n\n[Sidenote: Judaism and Christianity.]\n\nSect. 33. The history of religion contains no more impressive and\ndramatic chapter than that which records the development of the religion\nof the Jews. Passing over its obscure beginnings in the primitive\nSemitic cult, we find this religion first clearly defined as tribal\nself-interest sanctioned by Yahweh.[92:8] God's interest in his chosen\npeople determines the prosperity of him who practices the social\nvirtues.\n\n \"The name of Yahweh is a strong tower: the righteous runneth\n into it, and is safe.\"\n\n \"He that is steadfast in righteousness shall attain unto\n life.\"\n\n \"To do justice and judgment is more acceptable to Yahweh than\n sacrifice.\"[93:9]\n\nBut in time it is evident to the believer that his experience does not\nbear out this expectation. Neither as a Jew nor as a righteous man does\nhe prosper more than his neighbor. He comes, therefore, to distrust the\nvirtue of his wisdom.\n\n \"Then I saw that wisdom excelleth folly, as far as light\n excelleth darkness. The wise man's eyes are in his head, and\n the fool walketh in darkness: and yet I perceived that one\n event happeneth to them all. Then said I in my heart, As it\n happeneth to the fool, so will it happen even to me; and why\n was I then more wise? Then I said in my heart, that this also\n was vanity. For of the wise man, even as of the fool, there is\n no remembrance forever; seeing that in the days to come all\n will have been already forgotten. And how doth the wise man\n die even as the fool! So I hated life; because the work that\n is wrought under the sun was grievous unto me: for all is\n vanity and a striving after wind.\"[93:10]\n\nIt is evident that he who expects the favor of fortune in return for\nhis observance of precept is mistaken. The \"work that is wrought under\nthe sun\" makes no special provision for him during his lifetime. Unless\nthe cry of vanity is to be the last word there must be a\nreinterpretation of the promise of God. This appears in the new ideal of\npatient submission, and the chastened faith that expects only the love\nof God. And those whom God loves He will not forsake. They will come to\ntheir own, if not here, then beyond, according to His inscrutable but\nunswerving plan.\n\n \"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a\n contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.\"\n\n \"For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth\n eternity, whose name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy\n place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit,\n to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of\n the contrite ones.\"[94:11]\n\nIn this faith Judaism merges into Christianity.[94:12] In the whole\ncourse of this evolution God is regarded as the friend of his people,\nbut his people learn to find a new significance in his friendship. That\nwhich is altered is the conduct which that friendship requires and the\nexpectation which it determines. The practical ideal which the\nrelationship sanctions, changes gradually from that of prudence to that\nof goodness for its own sake. God, once an instrument relevant to human\ntemporal welfare, has come to be an object of disinterested service.\n\nNo such transformation as this was absolutely realized during the period\ncovered by the writings of the Old Testament, nor has it even yet been\nrealized in the development of Christianity. But the evolution of both\nJudaism and Christianity has taken this direction. The criterion of this\nevolution is manifestly both ethical and metaphysical. A Christian avows\nthat he rates purity of character above worldly prosperity, so that the\nformer cannot properly be prized for the sake of the latter.\nFurthermore, he shares more or less unconsciously such philosophical and\nscientific opinions as deny truth to the conception of special\ninterferences and dispensations from a supernatural agency. Therefore he\nlooks for no fire from heaven to consume his sacrifice. But his religion\nis nevertheless a practical expectation. He believes that God is good,\nand that God loves him and sustains him. He believes that there obtains\nbetween himself, in so far as good, and the universe _sub specie\neternitatis_, a real sympathy and reciprocal reenforcement. He believes\nthat he secures through the profoundly potent forces of the universe\nthat which he regards as of most worth; and that somewhat is added to\nthese forces by virtue of his consecration. The God of the Christians\ncannot be defined short of some such account as this, inclusive of an\nideal, an attitude, and an expectation. In other words the God of the\nChristians is to be known only in terms of the Christlike outlook upon\nlife, in which the disciple is taught to emulate the master. When moral\nand intellectual development shall have discredited either its scale of\nvalues, or its conviction that cosmical events are in the end determined\nin accordance with that scale of values, then Christianity must either\nbe transformed, or be untenable for the wise man. If we have conceived\nthe essence of Christianity too broadly or vaguely, it does not much\nmatter for our present purposes. Its essence is, at any rate, some such\ninwardness of life resolving ideality and reality into one, and drawing\nupon objective truth only to the extent required for the confirming of\nthat relation.\n\n[Sidenote: The Cognitive Factor in Religion.]\n\nSect. 34. We conclude, then, our attempt to emphasize the cognitive\nfactor in religion, with the thesis that every religion centres in a\npractical secret of the universe. _To be religious is to believe that a\ncertain correlation of forces, moral and factual, is in reality\noperative, and that it determines the propriety and effectiveness of a\ncertain type of living. Whatever demonstrates the futility, vanity, or\nself-deception of this living, discredits the religion. And, per contra,\nexcept as they define or refute such practical truth, religion is not\nessentially concerned with theoretical judgments._\n\n[Sidenote: The Place of Imagination in Religion.]\n\nSect. 35. But neither religion nor any other human interest consists in\nessentials. Such a practical conviction as that which has been defined\ninevitably flowers into a marvelous complexity, and taps for its\nnourishment every spontaneity of human nature. If it be said that only\nthe practical conviction is essential, this is not the same as to say\nthat all else is superfluous. There may be no single utterance that my\nreligion could not have spared, and yet were I to be altogether dumb my\nreligion would, indeed, be as nothing. For if I believe, I accept a\npresence in my world, which as I live will figure in my dreams, or in my\nthoughts, or in my habits. And each of these expressions of myself will\nhave a truth if it do but bear out my practical acceptance of that\npresence. The language of religion, like that of daily life, is not the\nlanguage of science except it take it upon itself to be so. There is\nscarcely a sentence which I utter in my daily intercourse with men which\nis not guilty of transgressions against the canons of accurate and\ndefinite thinking. Yet if I deceive neither myself nor another, I am\nheld to be truthful, even though my language deal with chance and\naccident, material purposes and spiritual causes, and though I vow that\nthe sun smiles or the moon lets down her hair into the sea. Science is a\nspecial interest in the discovery of unequivocal and fixed conceptions,\nand employs its terms with an unalterable connotation. But no such\nalgebra of thought is indispensable to life or conversation, and its\nlack is no proof of error. Such is the case also with that eminently\nliving affair, religion. I may if I choose, and I will if my reasoning\npowers be at all awakened, be a theologian. But theology, like science,\nis a special intellectual spontaneity. St. Thomas, the master\ntheologian, did not glide unwittingly from prayer into the _quaestiones_\nof the \"Summa Theologiae,\" but turned to them as to a fresh adventure.\nTheology is inevitable, because humanly speaking adventure is\ninevitable. For man, with his intellectual spontaneity, every object is\na problem; and did he not seek sooner or later to define salvation,\nthere would be good reason to believe that he did not practically reckon\nwith any. But this is _similarly_ and _independently_ true of the\nimagination, the most familiar means with which man clothes and vivifies\nhis convictions, the exuberance with which he plays about them and\ndelights to confess them. The imagination of religion, contributing what\nMatthew Arnold called its \"poetry and eloquence,\" does not submit itself\nto such canons as are binding upon theology or science, but exists and\nflourishes in its own right.\n\nThe indispensableness to religion of the imagination is due to that\nfaculty's power of realizing what is not perceptually present. Religion\nis not interested in the apparent, but in the secret essence or the\ntranscendent universal. And yet this interest is a practical one.\nImagination may introduce one into the vivid presence of the secret or\nthe transcendent. It is evident that the religious imagination here\ncoincides with poetry. For it is at least one of the interests of poetry\nto cultivate and satisfy a sense for the universal; to obtain an\nimmediate experience or appreciation that shall have the vividness\nwithout the particularism of ordinary perception. And where a poet\nelects so to view the world, we allow him as a poet the privilege, and\njudge him by the standards to which he submits himself. That upon which\nwe pass judgment is the _fitness of his expression_. This expression is\nnot, except in the case of the theoretical mystic, regarded as\nconstituting the most valid form of the idea, but is appreciated\nexpressly for its fulfilment of the condition of immediacy. The same\nsort of critical attitude is in order with the fruits of the religious\nimagination. These may or may not fulfil enough of the requirements of\nthat art to be properly denominated poetry; but like poetry they are the\ntranslation of ideas into a specific language. They must not, therefore,\nbe judged as though they claimed to excel in point of validity, but only\nin point of consistency with the context of that language. And _the\nlanguage of religion is the language of the practical life_. Such\ntranslation is as essential to an idea that is to enter into the\nreligious experience, as translation into terms of immediacy is\nessential to an idea that is to enter into the appreciative\nconsciousness of the poet. No object can find a place in my religion\nuntil it is conjoined with my purposes and hopes; until it is taken for\ngranted and acted upon, like the love of my friends, or the courses of\nthe stars, or the stretches of the sea.\n\n[Sidenote: The Special Functions of the Religious Imagination.]\n\nSect. 36. The religious imagination, then, is to be understood and\njustified as that which brings the objects of religion within the range\nof living. The central religious object, as has been seen, is an\n_attitude_ of the residuum or totality of things. To be religious one\nmust have a sense for the _presence of an attitude_, like his sense for\nthe presence of his human fellows, with all the added appreciation that\nis proper in the case of an object that is unique in its mystery or in\nits majesty. It follows that the religious imagination fulfils its\nfunction in so far as it provides the object of religion with properties\nsimilar to those which lend vividness and reality to the normal social\nrelations.\n\nThe presence of one's fellows is in part the perceptual experience of\ntheir bodies. To this there corresponds in religion some extraordinary\nor subtle appearance. The gods may in visions or dreams be met with in\ntheir own proper embodiments; or, as is more common, they may be\nregarded as present for practical purposes: in some inanimate object,\nas in the case of the fetish; in some animal species, as in the case of\nthe totem; in some place, as in the case of the shrine; or even in some\nhuman being, as in the case of the inspired prophet and miracle worker.\nIn more refined and highly developed religions the medium of God's\npresence is less specific. He is perceived with\n\n \"--a sense sublime\n Of something far more deeply interfused,\n Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,\n And the round ocean and the living air,\n And the blue sky, and in the mind of man.\"\n\nGod is here found in an interpretation of the common and the natural,\nrather than in any individual and peculiar embodiment. And here the\npoet's appreciation, if not his art, is peculiarly indispensable.\n\nBut, furthermore, his fellows are inmates of \"the household of man\" in\nthat he knows their history. They belong to the temporal context of\nactions and events. Similarly, the gods must be historical. The sacred\ntraditions or books of religion are largely occupied with this history.\nThe more individual and anthropomorphic the gods, the more local and\nepisodic will be the account of their affairs. In the higher religions\nthe acts of God are few and momentous, such as creation or special\nprovidence; or they are identical with the events of nature and human\nhistory when these are _construed_ as divine. To find God in this latter\nway requires an interpretation of the course of events in terms of some\nmoral consistency, a faith that sees some purpose in their evident\ndestination.\n\nThere is still another and a more significant way in which men recognize\none another: the way of address and conversation. And men have\ninvariably held a similar intercourse with their gods. To this category\nbelong communion and prayer, with all their varieties of expression. I\nhave no god until I address him. This will be the most direct evidence\nof what is at least from my point of view a social relation. There can\nbe no general definition of the form which this address will take. There\nmay be as many special languages, as many attitudes, and as much\nplayfulness and subtlety of symbolism as in human intercourse. But, on\nthe other hand, there are certain utterances that are peculiarly\nappropriate to religion. In so far as he regards his object as endowed\nwith both power and goodness the worshipper will use the language of\nadoration; and the sense of his dependence will speak in terms of\nconsecration and thanksgiving.\n\n \"O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee:\n My soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee,\n In a dry and weary land, where no water is.\n So have I looked upon thee in the sanctuary,\n To see thy power and thy glory.\n For thy loving-kindness is better than life;\n My lips shall praise thee.\"\n\nThese are expressions of a hopeful faith; but, on the other hand, God\nmay be addressed in terms of hatred and distrust.\n\n \"Who is most wretched in this dolorous place?\n I think myself; yet I would rather be\n My miserable self than He, than He\n Who formed such creatures to his own disgrace.\n\n \"The vilest thing must be less vile than Thou\n From whom it had its being, God and Lord!\n Creator of all woe and sin! abhorred,\n Malignant and implacable.\"[104:13]\n\nIn either case there may be an indefinite degree of hyperbole. The\nlanguage of love and hate, of confidence and despair, is not the\nlanguage of description. In this train of the religious consciousness\nthere is occasion for whatever eloquence man can feel, and whatever\nrhetorical luxuriance he can utter.\n\n[Sidenote: The Relation between Imagination and Truth in Religion.]\n\nSect. 37. Such considerations as these serve to account for the exercise\nand certain of the fruits of the religious imagination, and to designate\nthe general criterion governing its propriety. But _how is one to\ndetermine the boundary between the imaginative and the cognitive_? It is\ncommonly agreed that what religion says and does is not all intended\nliterally. But when is expression of religion only poetry and eloquence,\nand when is it matter of conviction? If we revert again to the cognitive\naspect of religion, it is evident that there is but one test to apply:\n_whatever either fortifies or misleads the will is literal conviction_.\nThis test cannot be applied absolutely, because it can properly be\napplied only to the intention of an individual experience. However I may\nexpress my religion, that which I express, is, we have seen, an\nexpectation. The degree to which I literally mean what I say is then the\ndegree to which it determines my expectations. Whatever adds no item to\nthese expectations, but only recognizes and vitalizes them, is pure\nimagination. But it follows that it is entirely impossible from direct\ninspection to define any given _expression_ of religious experience as\nmyth, or to define the degree to which it is myth. It submits to such\ndistinctions only when viewed from the stand-point of the concrete\nreligious experience which it expresses. Any such given expression could\neasily be all imagination to one, and all conviction to another.\nConsider the passage which follows:\n\n \"And I saw the heaven opened; and behold, a white horse, and\n he that sat thereon, called Faithful and True; and in\n righteousness he doth judge and make war. And his eyes are a\n flame of fire, and upon his head are many diadems; and he hath\n a name written, which no one knoweth but he himself. And he is\n arrayed in a garment sprinkled with blood: and his name is\n called The Word of God.\"[106:14]\n\nIs this all rhapsody, or is it in part true report? There is evidently\nno answer to the question so conceived. But if it were to express my own\nreligious feeling it would have some specific proportion of literal and\nmetaphorical significance, according to the degree to which its detail\ncontributes different practical values to me. It might then be my\nguide-book to the heavens, or only my testimony to the dignity and\nmystery of the function of Christ.\n\nThe development of religion bears in a very important way upon this last\nproblem. The factor of imagination has undoubtedly come to have a more\nclearly recognized role in religion. There can be no doubt that what we\nnow call myths were once beliefs, and that what we now call poetry was\nonce history. If we go back sufficiently far we come to a time when the\nliteral and the metaphorical were scarcely distinguishable, and this\nbecause science had not emerged from the early animistic extension of\nsocial relations. Men _meant_ to address their gods as they addressed\ntheir fellows, and expected them to hear and respond, as they looked for\nsuch reactions within the narrower circle of ordinary intercourse. The\nadvance of science has brought into vogue a description of nature that\ninhibits such expectations. The result has been that men, continuing to\nuse the same terms, essentially expressive as they are of a practical\nrelationship, have come to regard them as only a general expression of\ntheir attitude. The differences of content that are in excess of factors\nof expectation remain as poetry and myth. On the other hand, it is\nequally possible, if not equally common, for that which was once\nimagined to come to be believed. Such a transformation is, perhaps,\nnormally the case when the inspired utterance passes from its author to\nthe cult. The prophets and sweet singers are likely to possess an\nexuberance of imagination not appreciated by their followers; and for\nthis reason almost certainly misunderstood. For these reasons it is\nmanifestly absurd to fasten the name of myth or the name of creed upon\nany religious utterance whatsoever, unless it be so regarded from the\nstand-point of the personal religion which it originally expressed, or\nunless one means by so doing to define it as an expression of his own\nreligion. He who defines \"the myth of creation,\" or \"the poetical story\nof Samson,\" as parts of the pre-Christian Judaic religion, exhibits a\ntotal loss of historical sense. The distinction between cognition and\nfancy does not exist among objects, but only in the _intending_\nexperience; hence, for me to attach my own distinction to any individual\ncase of belief, viewed apart from the believer, is an utterly confusing\nprojection of my own personality into the field of my study.\n\n[Sidenote: The Philosophy Implied in Religion and in Religions.]\n\nSect. 38. Only after such considerations as these are we qualified to\nattack that much-vexed question as to whether religion deals invariably\nwith a personal god. It is often assumed in discussion of this question\nthat \"personal god,\" as well as \"god,\" is a distinct and familiar kind\nof entity, like a dragon or centaur; its existence alone being\nproblematical. This is doubly false to the religious employment of such\nan object. If it be true that in religion we mean by God a practical\ninterpretation of the world, _whatsoever be its nature_, then the\npersonality of God must be a derivative of the attitude, and not of the\nnature of the world. Given the practical outlook upon life, there is no\ndefinable world that cannot be construed under the form of God. My god\nis my world practically recognized in respect of its fundamental or\nultimate attitude to my ideals. In the sense, then, conveyed by this\nterm _attitude_ my god will invariably possess the characters of\npersonality. But the degree to which these characters will coincide with\nthe characters which I assign to human persons, or the terms of any\nlogical conception of personality, cannot be absolutely defined.\nAnthropomorphisms may be imagination or they may be literal conviction.\nThis will depend, as above maintained, upon the degree to which they\ndetermine my expectations. Suppose the world to be theoretically\nconceived as governed by laws that are indifferent to all human\ninterests. The practical expression of this conception appears in the\nnaturalism of Lucretius, or Diogenes, or Omar Khayyam. Living in the\nvivid presence of an indifferent world, I may picture my gods as leading\ntheir own lives in some remote realm which is inaccessible to my\npetitions, or as regarding me with sinister and contemptuous cruelty. In\nthe latter case I may shrink and cower, or return them contempt for\ncontempt. I mean this literally only if I look for consequences\nfollowing directly from the emotional coloring which I have bestowed\nupon them. It may well be that I mean merely to regard myself _sub\nspecie eternitatis_, in which case I am _personifying_ in the sense of\nfree imagination. In the religion of enlightenment the divine attitude\ntends to belong to the poetry and eloquence of religion rather than to\nits cognitive intent. This is true even of optimistic and idealistic\nreligion. The love and providence of God are less commonly supposed to\nwarrant an expectation of special and arbitrary favors, and have come\nmore and more to mean the play of my own feeling about the general\ncentral conviction of the favorableness of the cosmos to my deeper or\nmoral concerns. But the factor of personality cannot possibly be\nentirely eliminated, for the religious consciousness _creates_ a social\nrelationship between man and the universe. Such an interpretation of\nlife is not a case of the pathetic fallacy, unless it incorrectly\n_reckons with_ the inner feeling which it attributes to the universe. It\nis an obvious practical truth that the total or residual environment is\nsignificant for life. Grant this and you make rational a recognition of\nthat significance, or a more or less constant sense of coincidence or\nconflict with cosmical forces. Permit this consciousness to stand, and\nyou make some expression of it inevitable. Such an expression may,\nfurthermore, with perfect propriety and in fulfilment of human nature,\nset forth and transfigure this central belief until it may enter into\nthe context of immediacy.\n\nThus any conception of the universe whatsoever may afford a basis for\nreligion. But there is no religion that does not virtually make a more\ndefinite claim upon the nature of things, and this entirely\nindependently of its theology, or explicit attempt to define itself.\nEvery religion, even in the very living of it, is naturalistic, or\ndualistic, or pluralistic, or optimistic, or idealistic, or pessimistic.\nAnd there is in the realm of truth that which justifies or refutes these\ndefinite practical ways of construing the universe. But no historical\nreligion is ever so vague even as this in its philosophical\nimplications. Indeed, we shall always be brought eventually to the\ninner meaning of some individual religious experience, where no general\ncriticism can be certainly valid.\n\nThere is, then, a place in religion for that which is not directly\nanswerable to philosophical or scientific standards. But there is\nalways, on the other hand, an element of hope which conceives the nature\nof the world, and means to be grounded in reality. In respect of that\nelement, philosophy is indispensable to religion. The meaning of\nreligion is, in fact, the central problem of philosophy. There is a\nvirtue in religion like that which Emerson ascribes to poetry. \"The poet\nis in the right attitude; he is believing; the philosopher, after some\nstruggle, having only reasons for believing.\" But whatever may be said\nto the disparagement of its dialectic, philosophy is the justification\nof religion, and the criticism of religions. To it must be assigned the\ntask of so refining positive religion as to contribute to the perpetual\nestablishment of true religion. And to philosophy, with religion,\nbelongs the task of holding fast to the idea of the universe. There is\nno religion except before you begin, or after you have rested from, your\nphilosophical speculation. But in the universe these interests have a\ncommon object. As philosophy is the articulation and vindication of\nreligion, so is religion the realization of philosophy. In philosophy\nthought is brought up to the elevation of life, and in religion\nphilosophy, as the sum of wisdom, enters into life.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[83:1] As Plato interprets the scepticism of Protagoras to mean that one\nstate of mind cannot be more _true_ than another, but only _better_ or\nworse. Cf. _Theaetetus_, 167.\n\n[88:2] Quoted with some omissions from _I Kings_, 18:21-29. The Hebrew\nterm _Yahweh_, the name of the national deity, has been substituted for\nthe English translation, \"the Lord.\"\n\n[90:3] _Iliad_, Book IX, lines 467 _sq._ Translation by Chapman.\n\n[91:4] The supposed abode of departed spirits.\n\n[91:5] Lucretius: _De Rerum Natura_, Book III, lines 1 _sq._ Translated\nby Munro.\n\n[91:6] _Ibid._, Book II, lines 644 _sq._\n\n[92:7] It would be interesting to compare the equally famous criticism\nof Greek religion in Plato's _Republic_, Book II, 377 _sq._\n\n[92:8] Cf. W. Robertson Smith's admirable account of the Semitic\nreligions:\n\n\"What is requisite to religion is a practical acquaintance with the\nrules on which the deity acts and on which he expects his worshippers to\nframe their conduct--what in II Kings, 17:26 is called the 'manner,' or\nrather the 'customary law' (_mishpat_), of the god of the land. This is\ntrue even of the religion of Israel. When the prophets speak of the\nknowledge of God, they always mean a practical knowledge of the laws and\nprinciples of His government in Israel, and a summary expression for\nreligion as a whole is 'the knowledge and fear of Jehovah,' _i. e._, the\nknowledge of what Jehovah prescribes, combined with a reverent\nobedience.\" _The Religion of the Semites_, p. 23.\n\n[93:9] _Proverbs_, 18:10; 11:19; 21:3.\n\n[93:10] _Ecclesiastes_, 2:13 _sq._\n\n[94:11] _Psalms_, 51:17; _Isaiah_, 57:15.\n\n[94:12] In this discussion of Judaism I am much indebted to Matthew\nArnold's _Literature and Dogma_, especially Chapters I and II.\n\n[104:13] James Thomson: _The City of Dreadful Night_. Quoted by James,\nin _The Will to Believe, etc._, p. 45.\n\n[106:14] _Revelation_, 19:11-13.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nNATURAL SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY\n\n\n[Sidenote: The True Relations of Philosophy and Science. Misconceptions\nand Antagonisms.]\n\nSect. 39. In the case of natural science we meet not only with a special\nhuman interest, but with a theoretical discipline. We are confronted,\ntherefore, with a new question: that of the relation within the body of\nhuman knowledge of two of its constituent members. Owing to the militant\ntemper of the representatives of both science and philosophy, this has\nlong since ceased to be an academic question, and has frequently been\nmet in the spirit of rivalry and partisanship. But the true order of\nknowledge is only temporarily distorted by the brilliant success of a\nspecial type of investigation; and the conquests of science are now so\nold a story that critical thought shows a disposition to judge of the\nissue with sobriety and logical highmindedness.\n\nIn the seventeenth century a newly emancipated and too sanguine reason\nproposed to know the whole of nature at once in terms of mathematics\nand mechanics. Thus the system of the Englishman Hobbes was science\nswelled to world-proportions, simple, compact, conclusive, and\nall-comprehensive. Philosophy proposed to do the work of science, but in\nits own grand manner. The last twenty years of Hobbes's life, spent in\nrepeated discomfiture at the hands of Seth Ward, Wallis, Boyle, and\nother scientific experts of the new Royal Society, certified\nconclusively to the failure of this enterprise, and the experimental\nspecialist thereupon took exclusive possession of the field of natural\nlaw. But the idealist, on the other hand, reconstructed nature to meet\nthe demands of philosophical knowledge and religious faith. There\nissued, together with little mutual understanding and less sympathy, on\nthe one hand _positivism_, or exclusive experimentalism, and on the\nother hand a rabid and unsympathetic transcendentalism. Hume, who\nconsigned to the flames all thought save \"abstract reasoning concerning\nquantity or number,\" and \"experimental reasoning concerning matter of\nfact and existence\"; Comte, who assigned metaphysics to an immature\nstage in the development of human intelligence; and Tyndall, who reduced\nthe religious consciousness to an emotional experience of mystery, are\ntypical of the one attitude. The other is well exhibited in Schelling's\nreference to \"the blind and thoughtless mode of investigating nature\nwhich has become generally established since the corruption of\nphilosophy by Bacon, and of physics by Boyle.\" Dogmatic experimentalism\nand dogmatic idealism signify more or less consistently the abstract\nisolation of the scientific and philosophical motives.\n\nThere is already a touch of quaintness in both of these attitudes. We of\nthe present are in the habit of acknowledging the autonomy of science,\nand the unimpeachable validity of the results of experimental research\nin so far as they are sanctioned by the consensus of experts. But at the\nsame time we recognize the definiteness of the task of science, and the\nvalidity of such reservations as may be made from a higher critical\npoint of view. Science is to be transcended in so far as it is\nunderstood as a whole. Philosophy is critically empirical; empirical,\nbecause it regards all _bona fide_ descriptions of experience as\nknowledge; critical, because attentive to the conditions of both general\nand special knowledge. And in terms of a critical empiricism so defined,\nit is one of the problems of philosophy _to define and appraise the\ngenerating problem of science_, and so to determine the value\nassignable to natural laws in the whole system of knowledge.\n\n[Sidenote: The Spheres of Philosophy and Science.]\n\nSect. 40. If this be the true function of philosophy with reference to\nscience, several current notions of the relations of the spheres of\nthese disciplines may be disproved. In the first place, philosophy will\nnot be all the sciences regarded as one science. Science tends to unify\nwithout any higher criticism. The various sciences already regard the\none nature as their common object, and the one system of interdependent\nlaws as their common achievement. The philosopher who tries to be all\nscience at once fails ignominiously because he tries to replace the work\nof a specialist with the work of a dilettante; and if philosophy be\nidentical with that body of truth accumulated and organized by the\ncooperative activity of scientific men, then philosophy is a name and\nthere is no occasion for the existence of the philosopher as such.\nSecondly, philosophy will not be the assembling of the sciences; for\nsuch would be a merely clerical work, and the philosopher would much\nbetter be regarded as non-existent than as a book-keeper. Nor, thirdly,\nis philosophy an auxiliary discipline that may be called upon in\nemergencies for the solution of some baffling problem of science. A\nproblem defined by science must be solved in the scientific manner.\nScience will accept no aid from the gods when engaged in her own\ncampaign, but will fight it out according to her own principles of\nwarfare. And as long as science moves in her own plane, she can\nacknowledge no permanent barriers. There is then no need of any\nsuperscientific research that shall replace, or piece together, or\nextend the work of science. But the savant is not on this account in\npossession of the entire field of knowledge. It is true that he is not\ninfrequently moved to such a conviction when he takes us about to view\nhis estates. Together we ascend up into heaven, or make our beds in\nsheol, or take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts\nof the sea--and look in vain for anything that is not work done, or work\nprojected, by natural science. Persuade him, however, to _define_ his\nestates, and he has circumscribed them. In his definition he must employ\nconceptions more fundamental than the working conceptions that he\nemploys within his field of study. Indeed, in viewing his task as\ndefinite and specific he has undertaken the solution of the problem of\nphilosophy. The logical self-consciousness has been awakened, and there\nis no honorable way of putting it to sleep again. This is precisely\nwhat takes place in any account of the generating problem of science. To\ndefine science is to define at least one realm that is other than\nscience, the realm of active intellectual endeavor with its own proper\ncategories. One cannot reflect upon science and assign it an end, and a\nmethod proper to that end, without bringing into the field of knowledge\na broader field of experience than the field proper to science, broader\nat any rate by the presence in it of the scientific activity itself.\n\nHere, then, is the field proper to philosophy. The scientist _qua_\nscientist is intent upon his own determinate enterprise. The philosopher\ncomes into being as one who is interested in observing what it is that\nthe scientist is so intently doing. In taking this interest he has\naccepted as a field for investigation that which he would designate as\nthe totality of interests or the inclusive experience. He can carry out\nhis intention of defining the scientific attitude only by standing\noutside it, and determining it by means of nothing less than an\nexhaustive searching out of all attitudes. Philosophy is, to be sure,\nitself a definite activity and an attitude, but an attitude required by\ndefinition to be conscious of itself, and, if you please, conscious of\nits own consciousness, until its attitude shall have embraced in its\nobject the very principle of attitudes. Philosophy defines itself and\nall other human tasks and interests. None have furnished a clearer\njustification of philosophy than those men of scientific predilections\nwho have claimed the title of agnostics. A good instance is furnished by\na contemporary physicist, who has chosen to call his reflections\n\"antimetaphysical.\"\n\n \"Physical science does not pretend to be a _complete_ view of\n the world; it simply claims that it is working toward such a\n complete view in the future. The highest philosophy of the\n scientific investigator is precisely this _toleration_ of an\n incomplete conception of the world and the preference for it,\n rather than an apparently perfect, but inadequate\n conception.\"[120:1]\n\nIt is apparent that if one were to challenge such a statement, the issue\nraised would at once be philosophical and not scientific. The problem\nhere stated and answered, requires for its solution the widest\ninclusiveness of view, and a peculiar interest in critical reflection\nand logical coordination.\n\n[Sidenote: The Procedure of a Philosophy of Science.]\n\nSect. 41. One may be prepared for a knowledge of the economic and social\nsignificance of the railway even if one does not know a throttle from a\npiston-rod, provided one has broad and well-balanced knowledge of the\ninterplay of human social interests. One's proficiency here requires one\nto stand off from society, and to obtain a perspective that shall be as\nlittle distorted as possible. The reflection of the philosopher of\nscience requires a similar quality of perspective. All knowledges,\ntogether with the knowing of them, must be his object yonder, standing\napart in its wholeness and symmetry. Philosophy is the least dogmatic,\nthe most empirical, of all disciplines, since it is the only\ninvestigation that can permit itself to be forgetful of nothing.\n\nBut the most comprehensive view may be the most distorted and false. The\ntrue order of knowledge is the difficult task of logical analysis,\nrequiring as its chief essential some determination of the scope of the\nworking conceptions of the different independent branches of knowledge.\nIn the case of natural science this would mean an examination of the\nmethod and results characteristic of this field, for the sake of\ndefining the kind of truth which attaches to the laws which are being\ngradually formulated. But one must immediately reach either the one or\nthe other of two very general conclusions. If the laws of natural\nscience cover all possible knowledge of reality, then there is left to\nphilosophy only the logical function of justifying this statement. Logic\nand natural science will then constitute the sum of knowledge. If, on\nthe other hand, it be found that the aim of natural science is such as\nto exclude certain aspects of reality, then philosophy will not be\nrestricted to logical criticism, but will have a cognitive field of its\nown. The great majority of philosophers have assumed the latter of these\nalternatives to be true, while most aggressive scientists have intended\nthe former in their somewhat blind attacks upon \"metaphysics.\" Although\nthe selection of either of these alternatives involves us in the defence\nof a specific answer to a philosophical question, the issue is\ninevitable in any introduction to philosophy because of its bearing upon\nthe extent of the field of that study. Furthermore there can be no\nbetter exposition of the meaning of philosophy of science than an\nillustration of its exercise. The following, then, is to be regarded as\non the one hand a tentative refutation of _positivism_, or the _claim of\nnatural science to be coextensive with knowable reality_; and on the\nother hand a programme for the procedure of philosophy with reference\nto natural science.\n\n[Sidenote: The Origin of the Scientific Interest.]\n\nSect. 42. Science issues through imperceptible stages from organic\nhabits and instincts which signify the possession by living creatures of\na power to meet the environment on its own terms. Every organism\npossesses such a working knowledge of nature, and among men the first\nscience consists in those habitual adjustments common to men and\ninfra-human organisms. Man is already practising science before he\nrecognizes it. As _skill_ it distinguishes itself early in his history\nfrom lore, or untested tradition. Skill is familiarity with general\nkinds of events, together with ability to identify an individual with\nreference to a kind, and so be prepared for the outcome. Thus man is\ninwardly prepared for the alternation of day and night, and the periods\nof the seasons. He practically anticipates the procession of natural\nevents in the countless emergencies of his daily life. But science in\nthe stricter sense begins when skill becomes _free_ and _social_.\n\n[Sidenote: Skill as Free.]\n\nSect. 43. Skill may be said to be _free_ when the essential terms of the\naction have been abstracted from the circumstances attending them in\nindividual experiences, and are retained as ideal plans applicable to\nany practical occasion. The monkey who swings with a trapeze from his\nperch on the side of the cage, counts upon swinging back again without\nany further effort on his own part. His act and its successful issue\nsignify his practical familiarity with the natural motions of bodies. We\ncan conceive such a performance to be accompanied by an almost entire\nfailure to grasp its essentials. It would then be necessary for nearly\nthe whole situation to be repeated in order to induce in the monkey the\nsame action and expectation. He would require a similar form, color, and\ndistance. But he might, on the other hand, regard as practically\nidentical all suspended and freely swinging bodies capable of affording\nhim support, and quite independently of their shape, size, time, or\nplace. In this latter case his skill would be applicable to the widest\npossible number of cases that could present themselves. Having a\ndiscerning eye for essentials, he would lose no chance of a swing\nthrough looking for more than the bare necessities. When the\nphysicist describes the pendulum in terms of a formula such as\nt = 2pi[squareroot(l/g)] he exhibits a similar discernment. He has\nfound that the time occupied by an oscillation of any pendulum may be\ncalculated exclusively in terms of its length and the acceleration due\nto gravity. The monkey's higher proficiency and the formula alike\nrepresent a knowledge that is free in the sense that it is contained in\nterms that require no single fixed context in immediacy. The knowledge\nis valid wherever these essential terms are present; and calculations\nmay be based upon these essential terms, while attendant circumstances\nvary _ad infinitum_. Such knowledge is said to be _general_ or\n_universal_.\n\nThere is another element of freedom, however, which so far has not been\nattributed to the monkey's knowledge, but which is evidently present in\nthat of the physicist. The former has a practical ability to deal with a\npendulum when he sees it. The latter, on the other hand, knows about a\npendulum whether one be present or not. His knowledge is so retained as\nalways to be available, even though it be not always applicable. His\nknowledge is not merely skill in treating a situation, but the\npossession of resources which he may employ at whatever time, and in\nwhatever manner, may suit his interests. Knowing what he does about the\npendulum, he may act from the idea of such a contrivance, and with the\naid of it construct some more complex mechanism. His formulas are his\ninstruments, which he may use on any occasion. Suppose that a situation\nwith factors _a_, _b_, and _c_ requires factor _d_ in order to become\n_M_, as desired. Such a situation might easily be hopeless for an\norganism reacting directly to the stimulus _abc_, and yet be easily met\nby a free knowledge of _d_. One who knows that _l_, _m_, and _n_ will\nproduce _d_, may by these means provide the missing factor, complete the\nsum of required conditions, _abcd_, and so obtain the end _M_. Such\nindirection might be used to obtain any required factor of the end, or\nof any near or remote means to the end. There is, in fact, no limit to\nthe complexity of action made possible upon this basis; for since it is\navailable in idea, the whole range of such knowledge may be brought to\nbear upon any individual problem.\n\n[Sidenote: Skill as Social.]\n\nSect. 44. But knowledge of this free type becomes at the same time\n_social_ or _institutional_. It consists no longer in a skilful\nadaptation of the individual organism, but in a system of terms common\nto all intelligence, and preserved in those books and other monuments\nwhich serve as the articulate memory of the race. A knowledge that is\nsocial must be composed of unequivocal conceptions and fixed symbols.\nThe mathematical laws of the exact sciences represent the most\nsuccessful attainment of this end so far as form is concerned.\nFurthermore, the amount of knowledge may now be increased from\ngeneration to generation through the service of those who make a\nvocation of its pursuit. Natural science is thus a cumulative racial\nproficiency, which any individual may bring to bear upon any emergency\nof his life.\n\n[Sidenote: Science for Accommodation and Construction.]\n\nSect. 45. Such proficiency as science affords is in every case the\nanticipation of experience. This has a twofold value for mankind, that\nof _accommodation_, and that of _construction_. Primitively, where mere\nsurvival is the function of the organism as a whole, the value of\naccommodation is relatively fundamental. The knowledge of what may be\nexpected enables the organism to save itself by means of its own\ncounter-arrangement of natural processes. Construction is here for the\nsake of accommodation. But with the growth of civilization construction\nbecomes a positive interest, and man tends to save himself for definite\nends. Accommodation comes to take place for the sake of construction.\nScience then supplies the individual with the ways and means wherewith\nto execute life purposes which themselves tend to assume an absolute\nvalue that cannot be justified merely on the ground of science.\n\n[Sidenote: Method and Fundamental Conceptions of Natural Science. The\nDescriptive Method.]\n\nSect. 46. If natural science be animated by any special cognitive\ninterest, this motive should appear in the development of its method and\nfundamental conceptions. If that interest has been truly defined, it\nshould now enable us to understand the progressive and permanent in\nscientific investigation as directly related to it. For the aim of any\ndiscipline exercises a gradual selection from among possible methods,\nand gives to its laws their determinate and final form.\n\nThe _descriptive method_ is at the present day fully established. A\nleading moral of the history of science is the superior usefulness of an\nexact account of the workings of nature to an explanation in terms of\nsome qualitative potency. Explanation has been postponed by enlightened\nscience until after a more careful observation of actual processes shall\nhave been made; and at length it has been admitted that there is no need\nof any explanation but perfect description. Now the practical use of\nscience defined above, requires no knowledge beyond the actual order of\nevents. For such a purpose sufficient reason signifies only sufficient\nconditions. All other considerations are irrelevant, and it is proper\nto ignore them. Such has actually been the fate of the so-called\nmetaphysical solution of special problems of nature. The case of Kepler\nis the classic instance. This great scientist supplemented his laws of\nplanetary motion with the following speculation concerning the agencies\nat work:\n\n \"We must suppose one of two things: either that the moving\n spirits, in proportion as they are more removed from the sun,\n are more feeble; or that there is one moving spirit in the\n centre of all the orbits, namely, in the sun, which urges each\n body the more vehemently in proportion as it is nearer; but in\n more distant spaces languishes in consequence of the\n remoteness and attenuation of its virtue.\"[129:2]\n\nThe following passage from Hegel affords an interesting analogy:\n\n \"The moon is the waterless crystal which seeks to complete\n itself by means of our sea, to quench the thirst of its arid\n rigidity, and therefore produces ebb and flow.\"[129:3]\n\nNo scientist has ever sought to refute either of these theories. They\nhave merely been neglected.\n\nThey were advanced in obedience to a demand for the ultimate\nexplanation of the phenomena in question, and were obtained by applying\nsuch general conceptions as were most satisfying to the reasons of their\nrespective authors. But they contributed nothing whatsoever to a\npractical familiarity with the natural course of events, in this case\nthe times and places of the planets and the tides. Hence they have not\nbeen used in the building of science. In our own day investigators have\nbecome conscious of their motive, and do not wait for historical\nselection to exclude powers and reasons from their province. They\ndeliberately seek to formulate exact descriptions. To this end they\nemploy symbols that shall serve to identify the terms of nature, and\nformulas that shall define their systematic relationship. These systems\nmust be exact, or deductions cannot be made from them. Hence they tend\nultimately to assume a mathematical form of expression.\n\n[Sidenote: Space, Time, and Prediction.]\n\nSect. 47. But science tends to employ for these systems only such\nconceptions as relate to _prediction_; and of these the most fundamental\nare _space_ and _time_. The first science to establish its method was\nthe science of astronomy, where measurement and computation in terms of\nspace and time were the most obvious means of description; and the\ngeneral application of the method of astronomy by Galileo and Newton, or\nthe development of mechanics, is the most important factor in the\nestablishment of modern science upon a permanent working basis. The\npersistence of the term _cause_, testifies to the fact that science is\nprimarily concerned with the determination of _events_. Its definitions\nof objects are means of identification, while its laws are dynamical,\n_i. e._, have reference to the conditions under which these objects\narise. Thus the chemist may know less about the properties of water than\nthe poet; but he is pre-eminently skilled in its production from\nelements, and understands similarly the compounds into which it may\nenter. Now the general conditions of all anticipation, whereby it\nbecomes exact and verifiable, are spacial and temporal. A predictable\nevent must be assigned to what is here now, or there now; or what is\nhere then, or there then. An experimentally verifiable system must\ncontain space-time variables, for which can be substituted the here and\nnow of the experimenter's immediate experience. Hence science deals\nprimarily with calculable places and moments. The mechanical theory of\nnature owes its success to a union of space and time through its\nconceptions of _matter_ and _motion_.[132:4] And the projected theory of\nenergetics must satisfy the same conditions.\n\n[Sidenote: The Quantitative Method.]\n\nSect. 48. But, furthermore, science has, as we have seen, an interest in\nfreeing its descriptions from the peculiar angle and relativity of an\nindividual's experience, for the sake of affording him knowledge of that\nwith which he must meet. Science enlightens the will by acquainting it\nwith that which takes place in spite of it, and for which it must hold\nitself in readiness. To this end the individual benefits himself in so\nfar as he eliminates himself from the objects which he investigates. His\nknowledge is useful in so far as it is valid for his own indefinitely\nvarying stand-points, and those of other wills recognized by him in his\npractical relations. But in attempting to describe objects in terms\nother than those of a specific experience, science is compelled to\ndescribe them in terms of one another. For this purpose _the\nquantitative method_ is peculiarly serviceable. With its aid objects\npermit themselves to be described as multiples of one another, and as\noccupying positions in relation to one another. When all objects are\ndescribed strictly in terms of one another, they are expressed in terms\nof arbitrary units, and located in terms of arbitrary spacial or\ntemporal axes of reference. Thus there arises the universe of the\nscientific imagination, a vast complexity of material displacements and\ntransformations, without color, music, pleasure, or any of all that rich\nvariety of qualities that the least of human experiences contains. It\ndoes not completely rationalize or even completely describe such\nexperiences, but formulates their succession. To this end they are\nreduced to terms that correspond to no specific experience, and for this\nvery reason may be translated again into all definable hypothetical\nexperiences. The solar system for astronomy is not a bird's-eye view of\nelliptical orbits, with the planets and satellites in definite phases.\nNor is it this group of objects from any such point of view, or from any\nnumber of such points of view; but a formulation of their motions that\nwill serve as the key to an infinite number of their appearances. Or,\nconsider the picture of the ichthysauria romping in the mesozoic sea,\nthat commonly accompanies a text-book of geology. Any such picture, and\nall such pictures, with their coloring and their temporal and spacial\nperspective, are imaginary. No such special and exclusive manifolds can\nbe defined as having been then and there realized. But we have a\ngeological knowledge of this period, that fulfils the formal demands of\nnatural science, in so far as we can construct this and countless other\nspecific experiences with reference to it.\n\n[Sidenote: The General Development of Science.]\n\nSect. 49. Science, then, is to be understood as springing from the\npractical necessity of anticipating the environment. This anticipation\nappears first as congenital or acquired reactions on the part of the\norganism. Such reactions imply a fixed coordination or system in the\nenvironment whereby a given circumstance determines other circumstances;\nand science proper arises as the formulation of such systems. The\nrequirement that they shall apply to the phenomena that _confront_ the\nwill, determines their spacial, temporal, and quantitative form. The\nprogress of science is marked by the growth of these conceptions in the\ndirection of comprehensiveness on the one hand, and of refinement and\ndelicacy on the other. Man lives in an environment that is growing at\nthe same time richer and more extended, but with a compensatory\nsimplification in the ever closer systematization of scientific\nconceptions under the form of the order of nature.\n\n[Sidenote: The Determination of the Limits of Natural Science.]\n\nSect. 50. At the opening of this chapter it was maintained that it is a\nfunction of philosophy to criticise science through its generating\nproblem, or its self-imposed task viewed as determining its province and\nselecting its categories. The above account of the origin and method of\nscience must suffice as a definition of its generating problem, and\nafford the basis of our answer to the question of its limits. Enough has\nbeen said to make it clear that philosophy is not in the field of\nscience, and is therefore not entitled to contest its result in detail\nor even to take sides within the province of its special problems.\nFurthermore, philosophy should not aim to restrain science by the\nimposition of external barriers. Whatever may be said of the sufficiency\nof its categories in any region of the world, that body of truth of\nwhich mathematics, mechanics, and physics are the foundations, must be\nregarded as a whole that tends to be all-comprehensive in its own terms.\nThere remains for philosophy, then, the critical examination of these\nterms, and the appraisal as a whole of the truth that they may express.\n\n[Sidenote: Natural Science is Abstract.]\n\nSect. 51. The impossibility of embracing the whole of knowledge within\nnatural science is due to the fact that the latter is _abstract_. This\nfollows from the fact that natural science is governed by a selective\ninterest. The formulation of definitions and laws in exclusively\nmechanical terms is not due to the exhaustive or even pre-eminent\nreality of these properties, but to their peculiar serviceableness in a\nverifiable description of events. Natural science does not affirm that\nreality is essentially constituted of matter, or essentially\ncharacterized by motion; but is _interested_ in the mechanical aspect of\nreality, and describes it quite regardless of other evident aspects and\nwithout meaning to prejudice them. It is unfortunately true that the\nscientist has rarely been clear in his own mind on this point. It is\nonly recently that he has partially freed himself from the habit of\nconstruing his terms as final and exhaustive.[137:5] This he was able\nto do even to his own satisfaction, only by allowing loose rein to the\nimagination. Consider the example of the atomic theory. In order to\ndescribe such occurrences as chemical combination, or changes in volume\nand density, the scientist has employed as a unit the least particle,\nphysically indivisible and qualitatively homogeneous. Look for the atom\nin the body of science, and you will find it in physical laws governing\nexpansion and contraction, and in chemical formulas. There the real\nresponsibility of science ends. But whether through the need of popular\nexposition, or the undisciplined imagination of the investigator\nhimself, atoms have figured in the history of thought as round\ncorpuscles of a grayish hue scurrying hither and thither, and armed with\nspecial appliances wherewith to lock in molecular embrace. Although this\nis nonsense, we need not on that account conclude that there are no\natoms. There are atoms in precisely the sense intended by scientific\nlaw, in that the formulas computed with the aid of this concept are true\nof certain natural processes. The conception of ether furnishes a\nsimilar case. Science is not responsible for the notion of a quivering\ngelatinous substance pervading space, but only for certain laws that,\n_e. g._, describe the velocity of light in terms of the vibration. It is\ntrue that there is such a thing as ether, not as gratuitously rounded\nout by the imagination, with various attributes of immediate experience,\nbut just in so far as this concept is employed in verified descriptions\nof radiation, magnetism, or electricity. Strictly speaking science\nasserts nothing about the existence of ether, but only about the\nbehavior, _e. g._, of light. If true descriptions of this and other\nphenomena are reached by employing units of wave propagation in an\nelastic medium, then ether is proved to exist in precisely the same\nsense that linear feet are proved to exist, if it be admitted that there\nare 90,000,000 x 5,280 of them between the earth and the sun. And to\nimagine in the one case a jelly with all the qualities of texture,\ncolor, and the like, that an individual object of sense would possess,\nis much the same as in the other to imagine the heavens filled with\nfoot-rules and tape-measures. There is but one safe procedure in dealing\nwith scientific concepts: to regard them as true so far as they\ndescribe, and no whit further. To supplement the strict meaning which\nhas been verified and is contained in the formularies of science, with\nsuch vague predicates as will suffice to make entities of them, is mere\nineptness and confusion of thought. And it is only such a\nsupplementation that obscures their abstractness. For a mechanical\ndescription of things, true as it doubtless is, is even more indubitably\nincomplete.\n\n[Sidenote: The Meaning of Abstractness in Truth.]\n\nSect. 52. But though the abstractness involved in scientific description\nis open and deliberate, we must come to a more precise understanding of\nit, if we are to draw any conclusion as to what it involves. In his\n\"Principles of Human Knowledge,\" the English philosopher Bishop Berkeley\nraises the question as to the universal validity of mathematical\ndemonstrations. If we prove from the image or figure of an isosceles\nright triangle that the sum of its angles is equal to two right angles,\nhow can we know that this proposition holds of all triangles?\n\n \"To which I answer, that, though the idea I have in view\n whilst I make the demonstration be, for instance, that of an\n isosceles rectangular triangle whose sides are of a\n determinate length, I may nevertheless be certain it extends\n to all other rectilinear triangles, of what sort or bigness\n soever. And that because neither the right angle, nor the\n equality, nor determinate length of the sides are at all\n concerned in the demonstration. It is true the diagram I have\n in view includes all these particulars; but then there is not\n the least mention made of them in the proof of the\n proposition.\"[140:6]\n\nOf the total conditions present in the concrete picture of a triangle,\none may in one's calculations neglect as many as one sees fit, and work\nwith the remainder. Then, if one has clearly distinguished the\nconditions used, one may confidently assert that whatever has been found\ntrue of them holds regardless of the neglected conditions. These may be\nmissing or replaced by others, provided the selected or (for any given\ninvestigation) essential conditions are not affected. That which is true\nonce is true always, provided time is not one of its conditions; that\nwhich is true in one place is true everywhere, provided location is not\none of its conditions. But, given any concrete situation, the more\nnumerous the conditions one ignores in one's calculations, the less\nadequate are one's calculations to that situation. The number of its\ninhabitants, and any mathematical operation made with that number, is\ntrue, but only very abstractly true of a nation. A similar though less\nradical abstractness appertains to natural science. Simple qualities of\nsound or color, and distinctions of beauty or moral worth, together with\nmany other ingredients of actual experience attributed therein to the\nobjects of nature, are ignored in the mechanical scheme. There is a\nsubstitution of certain mechanical arrangements in the case of the first\ngroup of properties, the simple qualities of sense, so that they may be\nassimilated to the general scheme of events, and their occurrence\npredicted. But their intrinsic qualitative character is not reckoned\nwith, even in psychology, where the physiological method finally\nreplaces them with brain states. Over and above these neglected\nproperties of things there remain the purposive activities of thought.\nIt is equally preposterous to deny them and to describe them in\nmechanical terms. It is plain, then, that natural science calculates\nupon the basis of only a fraction of the conditions that present\nthemselves in actual experience. Its conclusions, therefore, though true\nso far as they go, and they may be abstractly true of everything, are\ncompletely true of nothing.\n\n[Sidenote: But Scientific Truth is Valid for Reality.]\n\nSect. 53. Such, in brief, is the general charge of inadequacy which may\nbe urged against natural science, not in the spirit of detraction, but\nfor the sake of a more sound belief concerning reality. The philosopher\nfalls into error no less radical than that of the dogmatic scientist,\nwhen he charges the scientist with untruth, and attaches to his concepts\nthe predicate of unreality. The fact that the concepts of science are\nselected, and only inadequately true of reality, should not be taken to\nmean that they are sportive or arbitrary. They are not \"devices\" or\nabbreviations, in any sense that does not attach to such symbolism as\nall thought involves. Nor are they merely \"hypothetical,\" though like\nall thought they are subject to correction.[142:7] The scientist does\nnot merely assert that the equation for energy is true if nature's\ncapacity for work be measurable, but _that such is actually the case_.\nThe statistician does not arrive at results contingent upon the\nsupposition that men are numerable, but declares his sums and averages\nto be categorically true. Similarly scientific laws are true; only, to\nbe sure, so far as they go, but with no condition save the condition\nthat attaches to all knowledge, viz., that it shall not need correction.\nThe philosophy of science, therefore, is not the adversary of science,\nbut supervenes upon science in the interests of the ideal of final\ntruth. No philosophy of science is sound which does not primarily seek\nby an analysis of scientific concepts to understand science on its own\ngrounds. Philosophy may understand science better than science\nunderstands itself, but only by holding fast to the conviction of its\ntruth, and including it within whatever account of reality it may be\nable to formulate.\n\n[Sidenote: Relative Practical Value of Science and Philosophy.]\n\nSect. 54. Though philosophy be the most ancient and most exalted of\nhuman disciplines, it is not infrequently charged with being the most\nunprofitable. Science has amassed a fortune of information, which has\nfacilitated life and advanced civilization. Is not philosophy, on the\nother hand, all programme and idle questioning? In the first place, no\nquestioning is idle that is logically possible. It is true that\nphilosophy shows her skill rather in the asking than in the answering of\nquestions. But the formal pertinence of a question is of the greatest\nsignificance. No valid though unanswered question can have a purely\nnegative value, and especially as respects the consistency or\ncompleteness of truth. But, in the second place, philosophy with all its\nlimitations serves mankind as indispensably as science. If science\nsupplies the individual with means of self-preservation, and the\ninstruments of achievement, philosophy supplies the ideals, or the\nobjects of deliberate construction. Such reflection as justifies the\nadoption of a fundamental life purpose is always philosophical. For\nevery judgment respecting final worth is a judgment _sub specie\neternitatis_. And the urgency of life requires the individual to pass\nsuch judgments. It is true that however persistently reflective he may\nbe in the matter, his conclusion will be premature in consideration of\nthe amount of evidence logically demanded for such a judgment. But he\nmust be as wise as he can, or he will be as foolish as conventionality\nand blind impulse may impel him to be. Philosophy determines for society\nwhat every individual must practically determine upon for himself, the\nmost reasonable plan of reality as a whole which the data and reflection\nof an epoch can afford. It is philosophy's service to mankind to\ncompensate for the enthusiasm and concentration of the specialist, a\nservice needed in every \"present day.\" Apart from the philosopher,\npublic opinion is the victim of sensationalism, and individual opinion\nis further warped by accidental propinquity. It is the function of\nphilosophy to interpret knowledge for the sake of a sober and wise\nbelief. The philosopher is the true prophet, appearing before men in\nbehalf of that which is finally the truth. He is the spokesman of the\nmost considerate and comprehensive reflection possible at any stage in\nthe development of human thought. Owing to a radical misconception of\nfunction, the man of science has in these later days begun to regard\nhimself as the wise man, and to teach the people. Popular materialism is\nthe logical outcome of this determination of belief by natural science.\nIt may be that this is due as much to the indifference of the\nphilosopher as to the forwardness of the scientist, but in any case the\nresult is worse than conservative loyalty to religious tradition. For\nreligion is corrected surely though slowly by the whole order of\nadvancing truth. Its very inflexibility makes it proof against an\nover-emphasis upon new truth. It has generally turned out in time that\nthe obstinate man of religion was more nearly right than the adaptable\nintellectual man of fashion. But philosophy, as a critique of science\nfor the sake of faith, should provide the individual religious believer\nwith intellectual enlightenment and gentleness. The quality,\norderliness, and inclusiveness of knowledge, finally determine its\nvalue; and the philosopher, premature as his synthesis may some day\nprove to be, is the wisest man of his own generation. From him the man\nof faith should obtain such discipline of judgment as shall enable him\nto be fearless of advancing knowledge, because acquainted with its\nscope, and so intellectually candid with all his visions and his\ninspirations.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[120:1] Ernst Mach: _Science of Mechanics_. Translation by McCormack, p.\n464. No one has made more important contributions than Professor Mach to\na certain definite modern philosophical movement. Cf. Sect. 207.\n\n[129:2] Whewell: _History of the Inductive Sciences_, Vol. I, p. 289.\nQuoted from Kepler: _Mysterium Cosmographicum_.\n\n[129:3] Quoted by Sidgwick in his _Philosophy, its Scope and Relations_,\np. 89.\n\n[132:4] The reader is referred to Mr. Bertrand Russell's chapters on\n_matter_ and _motion_ in his _Principles of Mathematics_, Vol. I.\nMaterial particles he defines as \"many-one relations of all times to\nsome places, or of all terms of a continuous one-dimensional series _t_\nto some terms of a continuous three-dimensional series _s_.\" Similarly,\n\"when different times, throughout any period however short, are\ncorrelated with different places, there is motion; when different times,\nthroughout some period however short, are all correlated with the same\nplace, there is rest.\" _Op. cit._, p. 473.\n\n[137:5] That the scientist still permits himself to teach the people a\nloose exoteric theory of reality, is proven by Professor Ward's citation\nof instances in his _Naturalism and Agnosticism_. So eminent a physicist\nas Lord Kelvin is quoted as follows: \"You can imagine particles of\nsomething, the thing whose motion constitutes light. This thing we call\nthe luminiferous ether. That is the only substance we are confident of\nin dynamics. One thing we are sure of, and that is the reality and\nsubstantiality of the luminiferous ether.\" Vol. I, p. 113.\n\n[140:6] Berkeley: _Principles of Human Knowledge_, Introduction. Edition\nof Fraser, p. 248.\n\n[142:7] The reader who cares to pursue this topic further is referred to\nthe writer's discussion of \"_Professor Ward's Philosophy of Science_\" in\nthe _Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods_, Vol. I,\nNo. 13.\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHE SPECIAL PROBLEMS OF\nPHILOSOPHY\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nMETAPHYSICS AND EPISTEMOLOGY\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Impossibility of an Absolute Division of the Problem of\nPhilosophy.]\n\nSect. 55. The stand-point and purpose of the philosopher define his\ntask, but they do not necessarily prearrange the division of it. That\nthe task is a complex one, embracing many subordinate problems which\nmust be treated _seriatim_, is attested both by the breadth of its scope\nand the variety of the interests from which it may be approached. But\nthis complexity is qualified by the peculiar importance which here\nattaches to unity. That which lends philosophical quality to any\nreflection is a steadfast adherence to the ideals of inclusiveness and\nconsistency. Hence, though the philosopher must of necessity occupy\nhimself with subordinate problems, these cannot be completely isolated\nfrom one another, and solved successively. Perspective is his most\nindispensable requisite, and he has solved no problem finally until he\nhas provided for the solution of all. His own peculiar conceptions are\nthose which _order_ experience, and reconcile such aspects of it as\nother interests have distinguished. Hence the compatibility of any idea\nwith all other ideas is the prime test of its philosophical sufficiency.\nOn these grounds it may confidently be asserted that the work of\nphilosophy cannot be assigned by the piece to different specialists, and\nthen assembled. There are no special philosophical problems which can be\nfinally solved upon their own merits. Indeed, such problems could never\neven be named, for in their discreteness they would cease to be\nphilosophical.\n\nThe case of _metaphysics_ and _epistemology_ affords an excellent\nillustration. The former of these is commonly defined as the theory of\nreality or of first principles, the latter as the theory of knowledge.\nBut the most distinctive philosophical movement of the nineteenth\ncentury issues from the idea that knowing and being are\nidentical.[150:1] The prime reality is defined as a knowing mind, and\nthe terms of reality are interpreted as terms of a cognitive process.\nIdeas and logical principles _constitute_ the world. It is evident that\nin this Hegelian philosophy epistemology embraces metaphysics. In\ndefining the relations of knowledge to its object, one has already\ndefined one's fundamental philosophical conception, while _logic_, as\nthe science of the universal necessities of thought, will embrace the\nfirst principles of reality. Now, were one to divide and arrange the\nproblems of philosophy upon this basis, it is evident that one would not\nhave deduced the arrangement from the general problem of philosophy, but\nfrom a single attempted solution of that problem. It might serve as an\nexposition of Hegel, but not as a general philosophical programme.\n\nAnother case in point is provided by the present-day interest in what is\ncalled \"_pragmatism_.\"[151:2] This doctrine is historically connected\nwith Kant's principle of the \"primacy of the practical reason,\" in which\nhe maintained that the consciousness of duty is a profounder though less\nscientific insight than the knowledge of objects. The current doctrine\nmaintains that thought with its fruits is an expression of interest, and\nthat the will which evinces and realizes such an interest is more\noriginal and significant than that which the thinking defines. Such a\nview attaches a peculiar importance to the springs of conduct, and in\nits more systematic development[152:3] has regarded _ethics_ as the\ntrue propaedeutic and proof of philosophy. But to make ethics the\nkey-stone of the arch, is to define a special philosophical system; for\nit is the very problem of philosophy to dispose the parts of knowledge\nwith a view to systematic construction. The relation of the provinces of\nmetaphysics, epistemology, logic, and ethics cannot, then, be defined\nwithout entering these provinces and answering the questions proper to\nthem.\n\n[Sidenote: The Dependence of the Order of Philosophical Problems upon\nthe Initial Interest.]\n\nSect. 56. Since the above terms exist, however, there can be no doubt\nbut that important divisions within the general aim of philosophy have\nactually been made. The inevitableness of it appears in the variety of\nthe sources from which that aim may spring. The point of departure will\nalways determine the emphasis and the application which the philosophy\nreceives. If philosophy be needed to supplement more special interests,\nit will receive a particular character from whatever interest it so\nsupplements. He who approaches it from a definite stand-point will find\nin it primarily an interpretation of that stand-point.\n\n[Sidenote: Philosophy as the Interpretation of Life.]\n\nSect. 57. There are two sources of the philosophical aim, which are\nperennial in their human significance. He, firstly, who begins with the\ndemands of life and its ideals, looks to philosophy for a reconciliation\nof these with the orderly procedure of nature. His philosophy will\nreceive its form from its illumination of life, and it will be an\nethical or religious philosophy. Spinoza, the great seventeenth-century\nphilosopher who justified mysticism after the manner of\nmathematics,[153:4] displays this temper in his philosophy:\n\n \"After experience had taught me that all the usual\n surroundings of social life are vain and futile; seeing that\n none of the objects of my fears contained in themselves\n anything either good or bad, except in so far as the mind is\n affected by them, I finally resolved to inquire whether there\n might be some real good having power to communicate itself,\n which would affect the mind singly, to the exclusion of all\n else: whether, in fact, there might be anything of which the\n discovery and attainment would enable me to enjoy continuous,\n supreme, and unending happiness.\"[153:5]\n\nIn pursuance of this aim, though he deals with the problem of being in\nthe rigorous logical fashion of his day, the final words of his great\nwork are, \"Of Human Freedom\":\n\n \"Whereas the wise man, in so far as he is regarded as such, is\n scarcely at all disturbed in spirit, but, being conscious of\n himself, and of God, and of things, by a certain eternal\n necessity, never ceases to be, but always possesses true\n acquiescence of his spirit. If the way which I have pointed\n out as leading to this result seems exceedingly hard, it may\n nevertheless be discovered. Needs must it be hard, since it is\n so seldom found. How would it be possible if salvation were\n ready to our hand, and could without great labor be found,\n that it should be by almost all men neglected? But all things\n excellent are as difficult as they are rare.\"[154:6]\n\n[Sidenote: Philosophy as the Extension of Science.]\n\nSect. 58. On the other hand, one who looks to philosophy for the\nextension and correction of scientific knowledge will be primarily\ninterested in the philosophical definition of ultimate conceptions, and\nin the method wherewith such a definition is obtained. Thus the\nphilosophy of the scientist will tend to be logical and metaphysical.\nSuch is the case with Descartes and Leibniz, who are nevertheless\nintimately related to Spinoza in the historical development of\nphilosophy.\n\n \"Several years have now elapsed,\" says the former, \"since I\n first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth,\n many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I\n afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful; and\n from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking\n once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions I had\n adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the\n foundation, if I desired to establish a firm and abiding\n superstructure in the sciences.\"[155:7]\n\nLeibniz's mind was more predominantly logical even than Descartes's. He\nsought in philosophy a supreme intellectual synthesis, a science of the\nuniverse.\n\n \"Although,\" he says retrospectively, \"I am one of those who\n have worked much at mathematics, I have none the less\n meditated upon philosophy from my youth up; for it always\n seemed to me that there was a possibility of establishing\n something solid in philosophy by clear demonstrations. . . .\n I perceived, after much meditation, that it is impossible to\n find the _principles of a real unity_ in matter alone, or in\n that which is only passive, since it is nothing but a\n collection or aggregation of parts _ad infinitum_.\"[155:8]\n\n[Sidenote: The Historical Differentiation of the Philosophical Problem.]\n\nSect. 59. Though these types are peculiarly representative, they are by\nno means exhaustive. There are as many possibilities of emphasis as\nthere are incentives to philosophical reflection. It is not possible to\nexhaust the aspects of experience which may serve as bases from which\nsuch thought may issue, and to which, after its synthetic insight, it\nmay return. But it is evident that such divisions of philosophy\nrepresent in their order, and in the sharpness with which they are\nsundered, the intellectual autobiography of the individual philosopher.\nThere is but one method by which that which is peculiar either to the\nindividual, or to the special position which he adopts, may be\neliminated. Though it is impossible to tabulate the empty programme of\nphilosophy, we may name certain special problems that have appeared _in\nits history_. Since this history comprehends the activities of many\nindividuals, a general validity attaches to it. There has been,\nmoreover, a certain periodicity in the emergence of these problems, so\nthat it may fairly be claimed for them that they indicate inevitable\nphases in the development of human reflection upon experience. They\nrepresent a normal differentiation of interest which the individual\nmind, in the course of its own thinking, tends to follow. It is true\nthat it can never be said with assurance that any age is utterly blind\nto any aspect of experience. This is obviously the case with the\npractical and theoretical interests which have just been distinguished.\nThere is no age that does not have some practical consciousness of the\nworld as a whole, nor any which does not seek more or less earnestly to\nuniversalize its science. But though it compel us to deal abstractly\nwith historical epochs, there is abundant compensation in the\npossibility which this method affords of finding the divisions of\nphilosophy in the manifestation of the living philosophical spirit.\n\n[Sidenote: Metaphysics Seeks a Most Fundamental Conception.]\n\nSect. 60. To Thales, one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, is commonly\nawarded the honor of being the founder of European philosophy. If he\ndeserve this distinction, it is on account of the question which he\nraised, and not on account of the answer which he gave to it. Aristotle\ninforms us that Thales held \"water\" to be \"the material cause of all\nthings.\"[157:9] This crude theory is evidently due to an interest in the\ntotality of things, an interest which is therefore philosophical. But\nthe interest of this first philosopher has a more definite character. It\nlooks toward the definition in terms of some single conception, of _the\nconstitution_ of the world. As a child might conceivably think the moon\nto be made of green cheese, so philosophy in its childhood thinks here\nof all things as made of water. Water was a well-known substance,\npossessing well-known predicates. To define all nature in terms of it,\nwas to maintain that in spite of superficial differences, all things\nhave these predicates in common. They are the predicates which qualify\nfor reality, and compose a community of nature from which all the\nindividual objects and events of nature arise. The successors of Thales\nwere evidently dissatisfied with his fundamental conception, because of\nits lack of generality. They seized upon vaguer substances like air and\nfire, for the very definiteness of the nature of water forbids the\nidentification of other substances with it. But what is so obviously\ntrue of water is scarcely less true of air and fire; and it appeared at\nlength that only a substance possessing the most general characters of\nbody, such as shape, size, and mobility, could be thought as truly\nprimeval and universal. In this wise a conception like our modern\nphysical conception of matter came at length into vogue. Now the problem\nof which these were all tentative solutions is, in general, the problem\nof _metaphysics_; although this term belongs to a later era, arising\nonly from the accidental place of the discussion of first principles\n_after physics_ in the system of Aristotle. _The attempt to secure a\nmost fundamental conception which attaches some definite meaning to the\nreality including and informing every particular thing, is metaphysics._\n\n[Sidenote: Monism and Pluralism.]\n\nSect. 61. It must not be supposed that metaphysics is dogmatically\ncommitted to the reduction of all reality to a unity of nature. It is\nquite consistent with its purpose that the parts of reality should be\nfound to compose a group, or an indefinite multitude of irreducibly\ndifferent entities. But it is clear that even such an account of things\ndeals with what is true of all reality, and even in acknowledging the\nvariety of its constituents, attributes to them some kind of\nrelationship. The degree to which such a relationship is regarded as\nintimate and essential, determines the degree to which any metaphysical\nsystem is _monistic_,[159:10] rather than _pluralistic_. But the\nsignificance of this difference will be better appreciated after a\nfurther differentiation of the metaphysical problem has been noted.\n\n[Sidenote: Ontology and Cosmology Concern Being and Process.]\n\nSect. 62. It has already been suggested that the test of Thales's\nconception lay in the possibility of deriving nature from it. A world\nprinciple must be fruitful. Now an abstract distinction has prevailed\nmore or less persistently in metaphysics, between _the general\ndefinition of being_, called _ontology_, and the study of the processes\nwherewith being is divided into things and events. This latter study has\nto do primarily with the details of experience enumerated and\nsystematized by the natural sciences. _To reconcile_ these, _or the\ncourse of nature, with the fundamental definition of being_, is the\nproblem of _cosmology_. Cosmology is the construing of the _prima facie_\nreality in terms of the essential reality. It is the proof and the\nexplanation of ontology. Since the most familiar part of the _prima\nfacie_ reality, the part almost exclusively noticed by the naive mind,\nis embraced within the field of the physical sciences, the term\ncosmology has come more definitely to signify the _philosophy of\nnature_. It embraces such an examination of space, time, matter,\ncausality, etc., as seeks to answer the most general questions about\nthem, and provide for them in the world thought of as most profoundly\nreal. Such a study receives its philosophical character from its\naffiliation with ontology, as the latter would find its application in\ncosmology.\n\n[Sidenote: Mechanical and Teleological Cosmologies.]\n\nSect. 63. But in addition to the consideration of the various parts of\nnature, cosmology has commonly dealt with a radical and far-reaching\nalternative that appeared at the very dawn of metaphysics. Differences\nmay arise within a world constituted of a single substance or a small\ngroup of ultimate substances, by changes in the relative position and\ngrouping of the parts. Hence the virtue of the conception of motion. The\ntheory which explains all differences by motions of the parts of a\nqualitatively simple world, is called _mechanism_. Another source of\nchange familiar to naive experience is _will_, or the action of living\ncreatures. According to the mechanical theory, _changes occur on account\nof the natural motions of the parts of matter_; according to the latter\nor _teleological_ conception, _changes are made by a formative agency\ndirected to some end_. Among the early Greek philosophers, Leucippus was\nan exponent of mechanism.\n\n \"He says that the worlds arise when many bodies are collected\n together into the mighty void from the surrounding space and\n rush together. They come into collision, and those which are\n of similar shape and like form become entangled, and from\n their entanglement the heavenly bodies arise.\"[161:11]\n\nAnaxagoras, on the other hand, was famed for his doctrine of the Nous,\nor Intelligence, to whose direction he attributed the whole process of\nthe world. The following is translated from extant fragments of his\nbook, \"+peri physeo:s+\":\n\n \"And Nous had power over the whole revolution, so that it\n began to revolve in the beginning. And it began to revolve\n first from a small beginning; but the revolution now extends\n over a larger space, and will extend over a larger still. And\n all the things that are mingled together and separated off and\n distinguished are all known by the Nous. And Nous set in order\n all things that were to be and that were, and all things that\n are not now and that are, and this revolution in which now\n revolve the stars and the sun and the moon, and the air and\n the ether that are separated off.\"[162:12]\n\n[Sidenote: Dualism.]\n\nSect. 64. It is clear, furthermore, that the doctrine of Anaxagoras not\nonly names a distinct kind of cause, but also ascribes to it an\nindependence and intrinsic importance that do not belong to motion.\nWhereas motion is a property of matter, intelligence is an originative\npower working out purposes of its own choosing. Hence we have here to do\nwith a new ontology. If we construe ultimate being in terms of mind, we\nhave a definite substitute for the physical theories outlined above.\nSuch a theory is scarcely to be attributed to any Greek philosopher of\nthe early period; it belongs to a more sophisticated stage in the\ndevelopment of thought, after the rise of the problem of epistemology.\nBut Anaxagoras's sharp distinction between the material of the world on\nthe one hand, and the author of its order and evolution on the other, is\nin itself worthy of notice. It contains the germ of a recurrent\nphilosophical _dualism_, which differs from pluralism in that it finds\ntwo and only two fundamental divisions of being, the physical, material,\nor potential on the one hand, and the mental, formal, or ideal on the\nother.\n\n[Sidenote: The New Meaning of Monism and Pluralism.]\n\nSect. 65. Finally, the alternative possibilities which these\ncosmological considerations introduce, bear directly upon the general\nquestion of the interdependence of the parts of the world, a question\nwhich has already appeared as pertinent in ontology. Monism and\npluralism now obtain a new meaning. Where the world process is informed\nwith some singleness of plan, as teleology proposes, the parts are\nreciprocally necessary, and inseparable from the unity. Where, on the\nother hand, the processes are random and reciprocally fortuitous, as\nLeucippus proposes, the world as a whole is an aggregate rather than a\nunity. In this way uniformity in kind of being may prevail in a world\nthe relations of whose parts are due to chance, while diversity in kind\nof being may prevail in a world knit together by some thorough-going\nplan of organization. Thus monism and pluralism are conceptions as\nproper to cosmology as to ontology.\n\nBut enough has been said to demonstrate the interdependence of ontology\nand cosmology, of the theory of being and the theory of differentiation\nand process. Such problems can be only abstractly sundered, and the\ndistinctive character of any metaphysical system will usually consist in\nsome theory determining their relation. Philosophy returns to these\nmetaphysical problems with its thought enriched and its method\ncomplicated, after becoming thoroughly alive to the problems of\nepistemology, logic, and ethics.\n\n[Sidenote: Epistemology Seeks to Understand the Possibility of\nKnowledge.]\n\nSect. 66. _Epistemology is the theory of the possibility of knowledge_,\nand issues from criticism and scepticism. If we revert again to the\nhistory of Greek philosophy, we find a first period of enterprising\nspeculation giving place to a second period of hesitancy and doubt. This\nphase of thought occurs simultaneously with the brilliantly humanistic\nage of Pericles, and it is undoubtedly true that energy is withdrawn\nfrom speculation largely for the sake of expending it in the more lively\nand engaging pursuits of politics and art. But there are patent reasons\nwithin the sphere of philosophy itself for entailment of activity and\ntaking of stock. For three centuries men have taken their philosophical\npowers for granted, and used them without questioning them. Repeated\nattacks upon the problem of reality have resulted in no consensus of\nopinion, but only in a disagreement among the wise men themselves. A\ngreat variety of mere theories has been substituted for the old\nunanimity of religious tradition and practical life. It is natural under\nthese circumstances to infer that in philosophy man has overreached\nhimself. He would more profitably busy himself with affairs that belong\nto his own sphere, and find a basis for life in his immediate relations\nwith his fellows. The sophists, learned in tradition, and skilled in\ndisputation, but for the most part entirely lacking in originality, are\nthe new prophets. As teachers of rhetoric and morals, they represent the\npractical and secular spirit of their age; while in their avoidance of\nspeculation, and their critical justification of that course, they\nexpress its sceptical philosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Scepticism, Dogmatism, and Agnosticism.]\n\nSect. 67. In their self-justification certain of the sophists attached\nthemselves to a definite doctrine maintained by those of their\npredecessors and contemporaries who were atomists, or followers of that\nsame Leucippus whom we have quoted. This doctrine was the result of an\nattempt to construe perception in terms of the motion of atoms. Outer\nobjects were said to give off fine particles which, through the\nmediation of the sense organs, impinged upon the soul-atom. But it was\nevident even to the early exponents of this theory that according to\nsuch an account, each perceiver is relegated to a world peculiar to his\nown stand-point. His perception informs him concerning his own states as\naffected by things, rather than concerning the things themselves. Upon\nthis ground the great sophist Protagoras is said to have based his\ndictum: +Panto:n chre:mato:n metron anthro:pos+,--\"Man is the measure of\nall things.\" This is the classic statement of the doctrine of\nrelativity. But we have now entered into the province of epistemology,\nand various alternatives confront us. Reduce thought to perception,\ndefine perception as relative to each individual, and you arrive at\n_scepticism_, or _the denial of the possibility of valid knowledge_.\nPlato expounds this consequence in the well-known discussion of\nProtagoras that occurs in the \"Theaetetus.\"\n\n \"I am charmed with his doctrine, that what appears is to each\n one, but I wonder that he did not begin his book on Truth with\n a declaration that a pig or a dog-faced baboon, or some other\n yet stranger monster which has sensation, is the measure of\n all things; then he might have shown a magnificent contempt\n for our opinion of him by informing us at the outset that\n while we were reverencing him like a God for his wisdom, he\n was no better than a tadpole, not to speak of his\n fellow-men--would not this have produced an overpowering\n effect? For if truth is only sensation, and no man can discern\n another's feelings better than he, or has any superior right\n to determine whether his opinion is true or false, but each,\n as we have several times repeated, is to himself the sole\n judge, and everything that he judges is true and right, why,\n my friend, should Protagoras be preferred to the place of\n wisdom and instruction, and deserve to be well paid, and we\n poor ignoramuses have to go to him, if each one is the measure\n of his own wisdom? . . . The attempt to supervise or refute\n the notions or opinions of others would be a tedious and\n enormous piece of folly, if to each man his own are right; and\n this must be the case if Protagoras's Truth is the real truth,\n and the philosopher is not merely amusing himself by giving\n oracles out of the shrine of his book.\"[167:13]\n\nThis is the full swing of the pendulum from _dogmatism_, or the\nuncritical conviction of truth. A modified form of scepticism has been\ndeveloped in these later days under the influence of natural science,\nand is called _agnosticism_ or _positivism_. It accepts the Protagorean\ndoctrine only in the sense of attributing to human knowledge as a whole\nan incapacity for exceeding the range of perception. Beyond this realm\nof natural science, where theories can be sensibly verified, lies the\nunknowable realm, more real, but forever inaccessible.\n\n[Sidenote: The Source and Criterion of Knowledge According to Empiricism\nand Rationalism. Mysticism.]\n\nSect. 68. It is important to note that both scepticism and agnosticism\nagree in regarding _perception as the essential factor in knowledge_. So\nfar at any rate as our knowledge is concerned, the certification of\nbeing consists in perceivability. Knowledge is coextensive with actual\nand possible human experience. This account of the source and criterion\nof knowledge is called _empiricism_, in distinction from the\ncounter-theory of _rationalism_.\n\nThe rationalistic motive was a quickening influence in Greek philosophy\nlong before it became deliberate and conspicuous in Socrates and Plato.\nParmenides, founder of the Eleatic School, has left behind him a poem\ndivided into two parts: \"The Way of Truth\" and \"The Way of\nOpinion.\"[168:14] In the first of these he expounds his esoteric\nphilosophy, which is a definition of being established by dialectical\nreasoning. He finds that being must be single, eternal, and changeless,\nbecause otherwise it cannot be thought and defined without\ncontradiction. The method which Parmenides here employs presupposes that\nknowledge consists in understanding rather than perception. Indeed, he\nregards the fact that the world of the senses is manifold and mutable as\nof little consequence to the wise man. The world of sense is the\nprovince of vulgar opinion, while that of reason is the absolute truth\nrevealed only to the philosopher. The truth has no concern with\nappearance, but is answerable only to the test of rationality. _That\nworld is real which one is able by thinking to make intelligible._ The\nworld is what a world must be in order to be possible at all, and the\nphilosopher can deduce it directly from the very conditions of thought\nwhich it must satisfy. He who would know reality may disregard what\nseems to be, provided he can by reflective analysis discover certain\ngeneral necessities to which being must conform. This is rationalism in\nits extreme form.\n\nThe rationalism of Socrates was more moderate, as it was more fruitful\nthan that of Parmenides. As is well known, Socrates composed no\nphilosophical books, but sought to inculcate wisdom in his teaching and\nconversation. His method of inculcating wisdom was to evoke it in his\ninterlocutor by making him considerate of the meaning of his speech.\nThrough his own questions he sought to arouse the questioning spirit,\nwhich should weigh the import of words, and be satisfied with nothing\nshort of a definite and consistent judgment. In the Platonic dialogues\nthe Socratic method obtains a place in literature. In the \"Theaetetus,\"\nwhich is, perhaps, the greatest of all epistemological treatises,\nSocrates is represented as likening his vocation to that of the midwife.\n\n \"Well, my art of midwifery is in most respects like theirs,\n but differs in that I attend men, and not women, and I look\n after their souls when they are in labor, and not after their\n bodies: and the triumph of my art is in thoroughly examining\n whether the thought which the mind of the young man brings\n forth is a false idol or a noble and true birth. And, like the\n midwives, I am barren, and the reproach which is often made\n against me, that I ask questions of others and have not the\n wit to answer them myself, is very just; the reason is that\n the god compels me to be a midwife, but does not allow me to\n bring forth. And therefore I am not myself at all wise, nor\n have I anything to show which is the invention or birth of my\n own soul, but those who converse with me profit. . . . It is\n quite clear that they never learned anything from me; the\n many fine discoveries to which they cling are of their own\n making.\"[171:15]\n\nThe principle underlying this method is the insistence that a\nproposition, to be true of reality, must at least bespeak a mind that is\ntrue to itself, internally luminous, and free from contradiction. That\nwhich is to me nothing that I can express in form that will convey\nprecise meaning and bear analysis, is so far nothing at all. Being is\nnot, as the empiricist would have it, ready at hand, ours for the\nlooking, but is the fruit of critical reflection. Only reason,\novercoming the relativity of perception, and the chaos of popular\nopinion, can lay hold on the universal truth.\n\nA very interesting tendency to clothe the articulations of thought with\nthe immediacy of perception is exhibited in _mysticism_, which\nattributes the highest cognitive power to an experience that transcends\nthought, an ineffable insight that is the occasional reward of thought\nand virtuous living. This theory would seem to owe its great vigor to\nthe fact that it promises to unite the universality of the rational\nobject with the vivid presence of the empirical object, though it\nsacrifices the definite content of both. The mystic, empiricist, and\nrationalist are in these several ways led to revise their metaphysics\nupon the basis of their epistemology, or to define reality in terms\ndictated by the means of knowing it.\n\n[Sidenote: The Relation of Knowledge to its Object According to Realism,\nand the Representative Theory.]\n\nSect. 69. But within the general field of epistemology there has arisen\nanother issue of even greater significance in its bearing upon\nmetaphysics. The first issue, as we have seen, has reference to the\ncriterion of knowledge, to the possibility of arriving at certainty\nabout reality, and the choice of means to that end. A second question\narises, concerning _the relation between the knowledge and its object or\nthat which is known_. This problem does not at first appear as an\nepistemological difficulty, but is due to the emphasis which the moral\nand religious interests of men give to the conception of the self. My\nknowing is a part of me, a function of that soul whose welfare and\neternal happiness I am seeking to secure. Indeed, my knowing is, so the\nwise men have always taught, the greatest of my prerogatives. Wisdom\nappertains to the philosopher, as folly to the fool. But though my\nknowledge be a part of me, and in me, the same cannot, lightly at any\nrate, be said of what I know. It would seem that I must distinguish\nbetween the knowledge, which is my act or state, an event in my life,\nand the known, which is object, and belongs to the context of the outer\nworld. _The object of knowledge_ would then be quite _independent of the\ncircumstance that I know it_. This theory has acquired the name of\n_realism_,[173:16] and is evidently as close to common sense as any\nepistemological doctrine can be said to be. If the knowledge consists in\nsome sign or symbol which in my mind stands for the object, but is\nquite other than the object, realism is given the form known as the\n_representative theory_. This theory is due to a radical distinction\nbetween the inner world of consciousness and the outer world of things,\nwhereby in knowledge the outer object requires a substitute that is\nqualified to belong to the inner world. Where, on the other hand, no\nspecific and exclusive nature is attributed to the inner world, realism\nmay flourish without the representative theory. In such a case the\nobject would be regarded as itself capable of entering into any number\nof individual experiences or of remaining outside them all, and without\non either account forfeiting its identity. This view was taken for\ngranted by Plato, but is elaborately defended in our own day. During the\nintervening period epistemology has been largely occupied with\ndifficulties inherent in the representative theory, and from that\ndiscussion there has emerged the theory of _idealism_,[175:17] the great\nrival theory to that of realism.\n\n[Sidenote: The Relation of Knowledge to its Object According to\nIdealism.]\n\nSect. 70. The representative theory contains at least one obvious\ndifficulty. If the thinker be confined to his ideas, and if the reality\nbe at the same time beyond these ideas, how can he ever verify their\nreport? Indeed, what can it mean that an idea should be true of that\nwhich belongs to a wholly different category? How under such\ncircumstances can that which is a part of the idea be attributed with\nany certainty to the object? Once grant that you know only your ideas,\nand the object reduces to an unknown _x_, which you retain to account\nfor the outward pointing or reference of the ideas, but which is not\nmissed if neglected. The obvious though radical theory of idealism is\nalmost inevitably the next step. Why assume that there is any object\nother than the state of mind, since all positive content belongs to that\nrealm? The eighteenth century English philosopher, Bishop Berkeley, was\naccused by his contemporaries of wilful eccentricity, and even madness,\nfor his boldness in accepting this argument and drawing this conclusion:\n\n \"The table I write on I say exists; that is, I see and feel\n it: and if I were out of my study I should say it existed;\n meaning thereby that if I was in my study I might perceive it,\n or that some other spirit actually does perceive it. There was\n an odor--that is, it was smelt; there was a sound--that is, it\n was heard; a color or figure, and it was perceived by sight or\n touch. This is all that I can understand by these and the like\n expressions. For as to what is said of the _absolute_\n existence of unthinking things, without any relation to their\n being perceived, that is to me perfectly unintelligible. Their\n _esse_ is _percipi_; nor is it possible that they should have\n any existence out of the minds or thinking thing which\n perceives them.\"[176:18]\n\n[Sidenote: Phenomenalism, Spiritualism, and Panpsychism.]\n\nSect. 71. In this paragraph Berkeley maintains that it is essential to\nthings, or at any rate to their qualities, that they _be perceived_.\nThis principle when expressed as an epistemological or metaphysical\ngeneralization, is called _phenomenalism_. But in another phase of his\nthought Berkeley emphasizes the _perceiver_, or _spirit_. The theory\nwhich maintains that the only real substances are these active selves,\nwith their powers and their states, has been called somewhat vaguely by\nthe name of _spiritualism_.[176:19] Philosophically it shows a strong\ntendency to develop into either _panpsychism_ or _transcendentalism_.\nThe former is radically empirical. Its classic representative is the\nGerman pessimist Schopenhauer, who defined reality in terms of will\nbecause that term signified to him most eloquently _the directly felt\nnature of the self_. This immediate revelation of the true inwardness of\nbeing serves as the key to an \"intuitive interpretation\" of the\ngradations of nature, and will finally awaken a sense of the presence of\nthe universal Will.\n\n[Sidenote: Transcendentalism, or Absolute Idealism.]\n\nSect. 72. _Transcendentalism_, or _absolute idealism_, on the other\nhand, emphasizes the _rational activity_, rather than the bare\nsubjectivity, _of the self_. The term \"transcendental\" has become\nassociated with this type of idealism through Kant, whose favorite form\nof argument, the \"transcendental deduction,\" was an analysis of\nexperience with a view to discovering the categories, or formal\nprinciples of thought, implied in its meaning. From the Kantian method\narose the conception of a standard or _absolute mind_ for the standard\nexperience. This mind is transcendental not in the sense of being alien,\nbut in the sense of exceeding the human mind in the direction of what\nthis means and strives to be. It is the ideal or normal mind, in which\nthe true reality is contained, with all the chaos of finite experience\ncompounded and redeemed. There is no being but the absolute, the one\nall-inclusive spiritual life, in whom all things are inherent, and whose\nperfection is the virtual implication of all purposive activities.\n\n \"God's life . . . sees the one plan fulfilled through all the\n manifold lives, the single consciousness winning its purpose\n by virtue of all the ideas, of all the individual selves, and\n of all the lives. No finite view is wholly illusory. Every\n finite intent taken precisely in its wholeness is fulfilled in\n the Absolute. The least life is not neglected, the most\n fleeting act is a recognized part of the world's meaning. You\n are for the divine view all that you know yourself at this\n instant to be. But you are also infinitely more. The\n preciousness of your present purposes to yourself is only a\n hint of that preciousness which in the end links their meaning\n to the entire realm of Being.\"[178:20]\n\nThe fruitfulness of the philosopher's reflective doubt concerning his\nown powers is now evident. Problems are raised which are not merely\nurgent in themselves, but which present wholly new alternatives to the\nmetaphysician. Rationalism and empiricism, realism and idealism, are\ndoctrines which, though springing from the epistemological query\nconcerning the possibility of knowledge, may determine an entire\nphilosophical system. They bear upon every question of metaphysics,\nwhether the fundamental conception of being, or the problems of the\nworld's unity, origin, and significance for human life.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[150:1] The post-Kantian movement in Germany--especially in so far as\ninfluenced by Hegel. See Chap. XII.\n\n[151:2] Cf. Sect. 203.\n\n[152:3] _E. g._, the system of Fichte. Cf. Sect. 177.\n\n[153:4] See Chap. XI.\n\n[153:5] Spinoza: _On the Improvement of the Understanding_. Translation\nby Elwes, p. 3.\n\n[154:6] Spinoza: _Ethics_, Part V, Proposition XLII. Translation by\nElwes, p. 270.\n\n[155:7] Descartes: _Meditations_, I. Translation by Veitch, p. 97.\n\n[155:8] Leibniz: _New System of the Nature of Substances_. Translation\nby Latta, pp. 299, 300.\n\n[157:9] Burnet: _Early Greek Philosophy_, p. 42.\n\n[159:10] No little ambiguity attaches to the term \"monism\" in current\nusage, because of its appropriation by those who maintain that the\nuniverse is unitary and homogeneous in _physical terms_ (cf. Sect. 108).\nIt should properly be used to emphasize the unity of the world in any\nterms.\n\n[161:11] Burnet: _Op. cit._, p. 358.\n\n[162:12] Burnet: _Op. cit._, p. 284.\n\n[167:13] Plato: _Theaetetus_, 161. Translation by Jowett. References to\nPlato are to the marginal paging.\n\n[168:14] Burnet: _Early Greek Philosophy_, pp. 184, 187.\n\n[171:15] Plato: _Theaetetus_, 150 B. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[173:16] Much ambiguity attaches to the terms \"realism\" and \"idealism\"\nin current usage. The first had at one time in the history of philosophy\na much narrower meaning than that which it now possesses. It was used to\napply to those who, after Plato, believed in the independent reality of\nideas, universals, or general natures. _Realists_ in this sense were\nopposed to _nominalists_ and _conceptualists_. Nominalism maintained the\nexclusive reality of individual substances, and reduced ideas to\nparticular signs having, like the _name_, a purely symbolical or\ndescriptive value. Conceptualism sought to unite realism and nominalism\nthrough the conception of mind, or an individual substance whose\nmeanings may possess universal validity. Though this dispute was of\nfundamental importance throughout the mediaeval period, the issues\ninvolved have now been restated. Realism in the old sense will, if held,\ncome within the scope of the broader epistemological realism defined\nabove. Nominalism is covered by empirical tendencies, and conceptualism\nby modern idealism.\n\nThe term _idealism_ is sometimes applied to Plato on account of his\ndesignation of ideas as the ultimate realities. This would be a natural\nuse of the term, but in our own day it has become inseparably associated\nwith the doctrine which attributes to being a dependence upon the\nactivity of mind. It is of the utmost importance to keep these two\nmeanings clear. In the preferred sense Plato is a realist, and so\nopposed to idealism.\n\nThe term _idealism_ is further confused on account of its employment in\nliterature and common speech to denote the control of ideals. Although\nthis is a kindred meaning, the student of philosophy will gain little or\nno help from it, and will avoid confusion if he distinguishes the term\nin its technical use and permits it in that capacity to acquire an\nindependent meaning.\n\n[175:17] See _note_, p. 173.\n\n[176:18] Berkeley: _Principles of Human Knowledge_, Part I, Fraser's\nedition, p. 259.\n\n[176:19] To be distinguished from the religious sect which bears the\nsame name.\n\n[178:20] Quoted from Professor Josiah Royce's _The World and the\nIndividual, First Series_, pp. 426-427.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE NORMATIVE SCIENCES AND THE PROBLEMS OF RELIGION\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Normative Sciences.]\n\nSect. 73. There are three sets of problems whose general philosophical\nimportance depends upon the place which metaphysics assigns to the\n_human critical faculties_. Man passes judgment upon that which claims\nto be _true_, _beautiful_, or _good_, thus referring to ideals and\nstandards that define these values. Attempts to make these ideals\nexplicit, and to formulate principles which regulate their attainment,\nhave resulted in the development of the three so-called _normative\nsciences_: _logic_, _aesthetics_, and _ethics_. These sciences are said\nto owe their origin to the Socratic method, and it is indeed certain\nthat their problem is closely related to the general rationalistic\nattitude.[180:1] In Plato's dialogue, \"Protagoras,\" one may observe the\nmanner of the inception of both ethics and logic. The question at issue\nbetween Socrates and the master sophist Protagoras, is concerning the\npossibility of teaching virtue. Protagoras conducts his side of the\ndiscussion with the customary rhetorical flourish, expounding in set\nspeeches the tradition and usage in which such a possibility is\naccepted. Socrates, on the other hand, conceives the issue quite\ndifferently. One can neither affirm nor deny anything of virtue unless\none knows _what is meant by it_. Even the possession of such a meaning\nwas scarcely recognized by Protagoras, who was led by Socrates's\nquestions to attribute to the various virtues an external grouping\nanalogous to that of the parts of the face. But Socrates shows that\nsince justice, temperance, courage, and the like, are admittedly similar\nin that they are all virtues, they must have in common some essence,\nwhich is virtue in general. This he seeks to define in the terms,\n_virtue is knowledge_. The interest which Socrates here shows in the\nreduction of the ordinary moral judgments to a system centering in some\nsingle fundamental principle, is the ethical interest. But this is at\nthe same time a particular application of the general rationalistic\nmethod of definition, and of the general rationalistic postulate that\none knows nothing until one can form unitary and determinate\nconceptions. The recognition which Socrates thus gives to criteria of\nknowledge is an expression of the logical interest. In a certain sense,\nindeed, the whole labor of Socrates was in the cause of the logical\ninterest. For he sought to demonstrate that belief is not necessarily\nknowledge; that belief may or may not be true. In order that it shall be\ntrue, and constitute knowledge, it must be well-grounded, and\naccompanied by an understanding of its object. Socrates thus set the\nproblem of logic, the discovery, namely, of those characters by virtue\nof the possession of which belief is knowledge.\n\n[Sidenote: The Affiliations of Logic.]\n\nSect. 74. Logic deals with the ground of belief, and thus distinguishes\nitself from the psychological account of the elements of the believing\nstate.[182:2] But it is not possible sharply to sunder psychology and\nlogic. This is due to the fact that the general principles which make\nbelief true, may be regarded quite independently of this fact. They then\nbecome the _most general truth_, belonging to the absolute, archetypal\nrealm, or to the mind of God.[182:3] When the general principles of\ncertainty are so regarded, logic can be distinguished from metaphysics\nonly by adding to the study of the general principles themselves, the\nstudy of the special conditions (mainly psychological) under which they\nmay be realized among men. In the history of human thought the name of\nlogic belongs to the study of this _attainment_ of truth, as the terms\naesthetics and ethics belong to the studies of the attainment of beauty\nand goodness.[183:4] It is evident that logic will have a peculiar\nimportance for the rationalist. For the empiricist, proposing to report\nupon things as they are given, will tend on the whole to maintain that\nknowledge has no properties save those which are given to it by its\nspecial subject-matter. One cannot, in short, define any absolute\nrelationship between the normative sciences and the other branches of\nphilosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Logic Deals with the Most General Conditions of Truth in\nBelief.]\n\nSect. 75. _Logic is the formulation, as independently as possible of\nspecial subject-matter, of that which conditions truth in belief._ Since\nlogic is concerned with truth only in so far as it is predicated of\nbelief, and since belief in so far as true is knowledge, logic can be\ndefined as the formulation of the most general principles of knowledge.\nThe principles so formulated would be those virtually used to _justify_\nbelief or to disprove the imputation of error.\n\n[Sidenote: The Parts of Formal Logic. Definition, Self-evidence,\nInference, and Observation.]\n\nSect. 76. What is called _formal logic_ is animated with the hope of\nextracting these formulations directly from an analysis of the procedure\nof thought. The most general logical principles which have appeared in\nthe historical development of formal logic are _definition_,\n_self-evidence_, _inference_, and _observation_. Each of these has been\ngiven special study, and each has given rise to special issues.\n\n_Definition_ has to do with the _formation of concepts_, or determinate\nand unequivocal meanings. The universality of such concepts, and their\nconsequent relation to particular things, was, as we have seen,\ninvestigated at a very early date, and gave rise to the great\nrealistic-nominalistic controversy.[184:5] A large part of the logical\ndiscussion in the Platonic dialogues is an outgrowth of the earlier\n\"eristic,\" a form of disputation in favor with the sophists, and\nconsisting in the adroit use of ambiguity.[184:6] It is natural that in\nits first conscious self-criticism thought should discover the need of\ndefinite terms. The perpetual importance of definition has been largely\ndue to the great prestige in modern philosophy of the method of\ngeometry, which was regarded by Descartes and Spinoza as the model for\nsystems of necessary truth.\n\n_Self-evidence_ is the principle according to which _conviction of truth\nfollows directly from an understanding of meaning_. In the practice of\nhis intellectual midwifery, Socrates presupposed that thought is capable\nof bringing forth its own certainties. And rationalism has at all times\nregarded truth as ultimately accredited by internal marks recognizable\nby reason. Such truth arrived at antecedent to acquaintance with\ninstances is called _a priori_, as distinguished from _a posteriori_\nknowledge, or observation after the fact. There can be no principles of\nself-evidence, but logicians have always been more or less concerned\nwith the enumeration of alleged self-evident principles, notably those\nof _contradiction_ and _identity_. A philosophical interest in the\nmathematical method has led to a logical study of axioms, but with a\nview rather to their fruitfulness than their intrinsic truth. Indeed,\nthe interest in self-evident truth has always been subordinate to the\ninterest in systematic truth, and the discovery of first principles most\ncommonly serves to determine the relative priority of definite\nconcepts, or the correct point of departure for a series of inferences.\n\nThe greater part of the famous Aristotelian logic consists in a study of\n_inference_, or _the derivation of new knowledge from old knowledge_.\nAristotle sought to set down and classify every method of advancing from\npremises. The most important form of inference which he defined was the\n_syllogism_, a scheme of reasoning to a conclusion by means of two\npremises having one term in common. From the premises \"all men are\nmortal\" and \"Socrates is a man,\" one may conclude that \"Socrates is\nmortal.\" This is an instance not only of the syllogism in general, but\nof its most important \"mood,\" the subsumption of a particular case under\na general rule. Since the decline of Aristotle's influence in philosophy\nthere has been a notable decrease of interest in the different forms of\ninference; though its fundamental importance as the very bone and sinew\nof _reasoning_ or _deductive thinking_ has never been challenged. Its\nloss of pre-eminence is in part due to the growth of empiricism,\nstimulated by the writings of Lord Bacon in the seventeenth century, and\nfostered by the subsequent development of experimental science.\n\n_Observation_ is the fundamental logical principle of empiricism. For a\nradical empiricism, knowledge would consist of descriptive\ngeneralizations based upon the summation of instances. That branch of\nlogic which deals with _the advance from individual instances to general\nprinciples_, is called _inductive logic_. It has resulted in the\nannouncement of canons of accuracy and freedom from preconception, and\nin the methodological study of hypothesis, experiment, and verification.\nRules for observation directed to the end of discovering causes,\nconstitute the most famous part of the epoch-making logic of J. S.\nMills.[187:7]\n\n[Sidenote: Present Tendencies. Theory of the Judgment.]\n\nSect. 77. There are two significant tendencies in contemporary logic.\n_Theories of the judgment_ have arisen in the course of an attempt to\ndefine the least complexity that must be present in order that thought\nshall come within the range of truth and error. It is evident that no\none either knows or is in error until he takes some attitude which lays\nclaim to knowledge. Denoting by the term _judgment_ this minimum of\ncomplexity in knowledge, an important question arises as to the sense in\nwhich the judgment involves the subject, predicate, and copula that are\ncommonly present in its propositional form.\n\n[Sidenote: Priority of Concepts.]\n\nSect. 78. But a more important logical development has been due to the\nrecent analysis of definite accredited systems of knowledge. The study\nof the fundamental conceptions of mathematics and mechanics, together\nwith an examination of the systematic structure of these sciences,\nfurnishes the most notable cases. There are two senses in which such\nstudies may be regarded as logical. In the first place, in so far as\nthey bring to light the inner coherence of any body of truth, the kind\nof evidence upon which it rests, and the type of formal perfection which\nit seeks, they differ from formal logic only in that they derive their\ncriteria from cases, rather than from the direct analysis of the\nprocedure of thought. And since formal logic must itself make\nexperiments, this difference is not a radical one. The study of cases\ntends chiefly to enrich _methodology_, or the knowledge of the special\ncriteria of special sciences. In the second place, such studies serve to\ndefine the relatively few simple truths which are common to the\nrelatively many complex truths. A study of the foundations of arithmetic\nreveals more elementary conceptions, such as _class_ and _order_, that\nmust be employed in the very definition of number itself, and so are\nimplied in every numerical calculation. It appears similarly that the\naxioms of geometry are special axioms which involve the acceptance of\nmore general axioms or indefinables.[189:8] Logic in this sense, then,\nis the enumeration of conceptions and principles in the order of their\nindispensableness to knowledge. And while it must be observed that the\nmost general conceptions and principles of knowledge are not necessarily\nthose most significant for the existent world, nevertheless the careful\nanalysis which such an enumeration involves is scarcely less fruitful\nfor metaphysics than for logic.\n\n[Sidenote: Aesthetics Deals with the Most General Conditions of Beauty.\nSubjectivistic and Formalistic Tendencies.]\n\nSect. 79. _Aesthetics is the formulation, as independently as possible\nof special subject-matter, of that which conditions beauty._ As logic\ncommonly refers to a judgment of truth, so aesthetics at any rate\n_refers_ to a judgment implied in appreciation. But while it is\ngenerally admitted that truth itself is by no means limited to the form\nof the judgment, the contrary is frequently maintained with reference\nto beauty. The aphorism, _De gustibus non est disputandum_, expresses a\ncommon opinion to the effect that beauty is not a property belonging to\nthe object of which it is predicated, but a property generated by the\nappreciative consciousness. According to this opinion there can be no\nbeauty except in the case of an object's presence in an individual\nexperience. Investigators must of necessity refuse to leave individual\ncaprice in complete possession of the field, but they have in many cases\noccupied themselves entirely with the _state of aesthetic enjoyment_ in\nthe hope of discovering its constant factors. The opposing tendency\ndefines certain _formal characters which the beautiful object must\npossess_. Evidently the latter school will attribute a more profound\nphilosophical importance to the conception of beauty, since for them it\nis a principle that obtains in the world of being. This was the first\nnotable contention, that of Plato. But even with the emphasis laid upon\nthe subjective aspect of the aesthetic experience, great metaphysical\nimportance may be attached to it, where, as in the case of the German\nRomanticists, reality is deliberately construed as a spiritual life\nwhich is to be appreciated rather than understood.\n\nAs in the case of logic, a strong impulse has manifested itself in\naesthetics to deal with groups of objects that lie within its province,\nrather than directly with its concepts and principles. The first special\ntreatise on aesthetics, the \"Poetics\" of Aristotle, belongs to this type\nof inquiry, as does all criticism of art in so far as it aims at the\nformulation of general principles.\n\n[Sidenote: Ethics Deals with the Most General Conditions of Moral\nGoodness.]\n\nSect. 80. _Ethics_, the oldest and most popular of the normative\nsciences, _is the formulation, as independently as possible of special\nsubject-matter, of that which conditions goodness of conduct_. Ethics is\ncommonly concerned with goodness only in so far as it is predicated of\nconduct, or of character, which is a more or less permanent disposition\nto conduct. Since conduct, in so far as good, is said to constitute\nmoral goodness, ethics may be defined as the formulation of the general\nprinciples of _morality_. The principles so formulated would be those\nvirtually employed to _justify_ conduct, or to disprove the imputation\nof immorality.\n\n[Sidenote: Conceptions of the Good. Hedonism.]\n\nSect. 81. The student of this science is confronted with a very\nconsiderable diversity of method and differentiation of problems. The\nearliest and most profound opposition of doctrine in ethics arose from\nthe differences of interpretation of which the teaching of Socrates is\ncapable. His doctrine is, as we have seen, verbally expressed in the\nproposition, _virtue is knowledge_. Socrates was primarily concerned to\nshow that there is no real living without an understanding of the\nsignificance of life. To live well is to know the end of life, the good\nof it all, and to govern action with reference to that end. Virtue is\ntherefore the practical wisdom that enables one to live consistently\nwith his real intention. But what is the real intention, the end or good\nof life? In the \"Protagoras,\" where Plato represents Socrates as\nexpounding his position, virtue is interpreted to mean prudence, or\nforesight of pleasurable and painful consequences. He who knows,\npossesses all virtue in that he is qualified to adapt himself to the\nreal situation and to gain the end of pleasure. All men, indeed, seek\npleasure, but only virtuous men seek it wisely and well.\n\n \"And do you, Protagoras, like the rest of the world, call some\n pleasant things evil and some painful things good?--for I am\n rather disposed to say that things are good in as far as they\n are pleasant, if they have no consequences of another sort,\n and in as far as they are painful they are bad.\"[192:9]\n\nAccording to this view painful things are good only when they lead\neventually to pleasure, and pleasant things evil only when their painful\nconsequences outweigh their pleasantness. Hence moral differences reduce\nto differences of skill in the universal quest for pleasure, and\n_sensible gratification is the ultimate standard of moral value_. This\nancient doctrine, known as _hedonism_, expressing as it does a part of\nlife that will not suffer itself for long to be denied, is one of the\ngreat perennial tendencies of ethical thought. In the course of many\ncenturies it has passed through a number of phases, varying its\nconception of pleasure from the tranquillity of the wise man to the\nsensuous titillations of the sybarite, and from the individualism of the\nlatter to the universalism of the humanitarian. But in every case it\nshows a respect for the natural man, praising morality for its\ndisciplinary and instrumental value in the service of such human wants\nas are the outgrowth of the animal instinct of self-preservation.\n\n[Sidenote: Rationalism.]\n\nSect. 82. But if a man's life be regarded as a truer representation of\nhis ideals than is his spoken theory, there is little to identify\nSocrates with the hedonists. At the conclusion of the defence of his own\nlife, which Plato puts into his mouth in the well-known \"Apology,\" he\nspeaks thus:\n\n \"When my sons are grown up, I would ask you, O my friends, to\n punish them; and I would have you trouble them, as I have\n troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything,\n more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something\n when they are really nothing,--then reprove them, as I have\n reproved you, for not caring about that for which they ought\n to care, and thinking that they are something when they are\n really nothing.\"[194:10]\n\nIt is plain that the man Socrates cared little for the pleasurable or\npainful consequences of his acts, provided they were worthy of the high\ncalling of human nature. A man's virtue would now seem to possess an\nintrinsic nobility. If knowledge be virtue, then on this basis it must\nbe because knowledge is itself excellent. Virtue as knowledge\ncontributes to the good by constituting it. We meet here with the\n_rationalistic_ strain in ethics. It praises conduct for the _inherent\nworth which it may possess if it express that reason_ which the Stoics\ncalled \"_the ruling part_.\" The riches of wisdom consist for the\nhedonist in their purchase of pleasure. For the rationalist, on the\nother hand, wisdom is not coin, but itself the very substance of value.\n\n[Sidenote: Eudaemonism and Pietism. Rigorism and Intuitionism.]\n\nSect. 83. Rationalism has undergone modifications even more significant\nthan those of hedonism, and involving at least one radically new group\nof conceptions. Among the Greeks rationalism and hedonism alike are\n_eudaemonistic_. They aim to portray _the fulness of life_ that makes\n\"the happy man.\" In the ethics of Aristotle, whose synthetic mind weaves\ntogether these different strands, the Greek ideal finds its most\ncomplete expression as \"the high-minded man,\" with all his powers and\ntrappings. But the great spiritual transformation which accompanied the\ndecline of Greek culture and the rise of Christianity, brought with it a\nnew moral sensibility, which finds in man no virtue of himself, but only\nthrough the grace of God.\n\n \"And the virtues themselves,\" says St. Augustine, \"if they\n bear no relation to God, are in truth vices rather than\n virtues; for although they are regarded by many as truly moral\n when they are desired as ends in themselves and not for the\n sake of something else, they are, nevertheless, inflated and\n arrogant, and therefore not to be viewed as virtues but as\n vices.\"[195:11]\n\nThe new ideal is that of renunciation, obedience, and resignation.\nEthically this expresses itself in _pietism_. Virtue is good neither in\nitself nor on account of its consequences, but because it is\nconformable to the will of God. The extreme inwardness of this ideal is\ncharacteristic of an age that despaired of attainment, whether of\npleasure or knowledge. To all, even the persecuted, it is permitted to\nobey, and so gain entrance into the kingdom of the children of God. But\nas every special study tends to rely upon its own conceptions, pietism,\ninvolving as it does a relation to God, is replaced by _rigorism_ and\n_intuitionism_. The former doctrine defines virtue in terms of the inner\nattitude which it expresses. It must be done in the spirit of\ndutifulness, _because one ought_, and through sheer respect for the law\nwhich one's moral nature affirms. _Intuitionism_ has attempted to deal\nwith the source of the moral law by defining conscience as a _special\nfaculty_ or sense, qualified to pass directly upon moral questions, and\ndeserving of implicit obediences. It is characteristic of this whole\ntendency to look for the spring of virtuous living, not in a good which\nsuch living obtains, but in a law to which it owes obedience.\n\n[Sidenote: Duty and Freedom. Ethics and Metaphysics.]\n\nSect. 84. This third general ethical tendency has thus been of the\ngreatest importance in emphasizing the _consciousness of duty_, and has\nbrought both hedonism and rationalism to a recognition of its\nfundamental importance. Ethics must deal not only with the moral ideal,\nbut also with the ground of its appeal to the individual, and his\nobligation to pursue it. In connection with this recognition of moral\nresponsibility, the problem of human _freedom_ has come to be regarded\nin the light of an inevitable point of contact between ethics and\nmetaphysics. That which is absolutely binding upon the human will can be\ndetermined only in view of some theory of its ultimate nature. On this\naccount the rationalistic and hedonistic motives are no longer\nabstractly sundered, as in the days of the Stoics and Epicureans, but\ntend to be absorbed in broader philosophical tendencies. Hedonism\nappears as the sequel to naturalism; or, more rarely, as part of a\ntheistic system whose morality is divine legislation enforced by an\nappeal to motives of pleasure and pain. Rationalism, on the other hand,\ntends to be absorbed in rationalistic or idealistic philosophies, where\nman's rational nature is construed as his bond of kinship with the\nuniverse.\n\nEthics has exhibited from the beginning a tendency to universalize its\nconceptions and take the central place in metaphysics. Thus with Plato\ngood conduct was but a special case of goodness, the good being the most\ngeneral principle of reality.[198:12] In modern times Fichte and his\nschool have founded an ethical metaphysics upon the conception of\nduty.[198:13] In these cases ethics can be distinguished from\nmetaphysics only by adding to the study of the good or of duty, a study\nof the special physical, psychological, and social conditions under\nwhich goodness and dutifulness may obtain in human life. It is possible\nto attach the name of ethics, and we have seen the same to be true of\nlogic, either to a realm of ideal truth or to that realm wherein the\nideal is realized in humanity.\n\n[Sidenote: The Virtues, Customs, and Institutions.]\n\nSect. 85. A systematic study of ethics requires that the _virtues_, or\ntypes of moral practice, shall be interpreted in the light of the\ncentral conception of good, or of conscience. _Justice_, _temperance_,\n_wisdom_, and _courage_ were praised by the Greeks. Christianity added\n_self-sacrifice_, _humility_, _purity_, and _benevolence_. These and\nother virtues have been defined, justified, and co-ordinated with the\naid of a standard of moral value or a canon of duty.\n\nThere is in modern ethics a pronounced tendency, parallel to those\nalready noted in logic and aesthetics, to study such phenomena belonging\nto its field as have become historically established. A very\nconsiderable investigation of _custom_, _institutions_, and other social\nforces has led to a contact of ethics with anthropology and sociology\nscarcely less significant than that with metaphysics.\n\n * * * * *\n\n[Sidenote: The Problems of Religion. The Special Interests of Faith.]\n\nSect. 86. In that part of his philosophy in which he deals with faith,\nthe great German philosopher Kant mentions God, Freedom, and Immortality\nas the three pre-eminent religious interests. Religion, as we have seen,\nsets up a social relationship between man and that massive drift of\nthings which determines his destiny. Of the two terms of this relation,\nGod signifies the latter, while freedom and immortality are prerogatives\nwhich religion bestows upon the former. Man, viewed from the stand-point\nof religion as an object of special interest to the universe, is said to\nhave a soul; and by virtue of this soul he is said to be free and\nimmortal, when thought of as having a life in certain senses independent\nof its immediate natural environment. The attempt to make this faith\ntheoretically intelligible has led to the philosophical disciplines\nknown as _theology_ and _psychology_.[199:14]\n\n[Sidenote: Theology Deals with the Nature and Proof of God.]\n\nSect. 87. _Theology_, as a branch of philosophy, deals with _the proof\nand the nature of God_. Since \"God\" is not primarily a theoretical\nconception, the proof of God is not properly a philosophical problem.\nHistorically, this task has been assumed as a legacy from Christian\napologetics; and it has involved, at any rate so far as European\nphilosophy is concerned, the definition of ultimate being in such\nspiritual terms as make possible the relation with man postulated in\nChristianity. For this it has been regarded as sufficient to ascribe to\nthe world an underlying unity capable of bearing the predicates of\nperfection, omnipotence, and omniscience. Each proof of God has defined\nhim pre-eminently in terms of some one of these his attributes.\n\n[Sidenote: The Ontological Proof of God.]\n\nSect. 88. The _ontological_ proof of God held the foremost place in\nphilosophy's contribution to Christianity up to the eighteenth century.\nThis proof _infers the existence from the ideal_ of God, and so\napproaches the nature of God through the attribute of perfection. It\nowes the form in which it was accepted in the Middle Ages and\nRenaissance to St. Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury at the close of the\neleventh century. He argued from the idea of a most perfect being to its\nexistence, on the ground that non-existence, or existence only in idea,\nwould contradict its perfection. It is evident that the force of this\nargument depends upon the necessity of the idea of God. The argument was\naccepted in Scholastic Philosophy[201:15] largely because of the virtual\nacceptance of this necessity. Mediaeval thought was under the dominance\nof the philosophical ideas of Plato and Aristotle, and through them\nrationalism had come to be the unquestioned starting-point for all\nthought. For Plato reality and rationality meant one and the same thing,\nso that the ultimate reality was the highest principle of rationality,\nwhich he conceived to be the idea of the good. In the case of Aristotle\nthe ideal of rationality was conceived to determine the course of the\ncosmical evolution as its immanent final cause. But in itself it was\nbeyond the world, or transcendent. For Plato perfection itself is\nreality, whereas for Aristotle perfection determines the hierarchical\norder of natural substances. The latter theory, more suitable to the\nuses of Christianity, because it distinguished between God and the\nworld, was incorporated into the great school systems. But both theories\ncontain the essence of the ontological proof of God. In thought one\nseeks the perfect truth, and posits it as at once the culmination of\ninsight and the meaning of life. The ideal of God is therefore a\nnecessary idea, because implied in all the effort of thought as the\nobject capable of finally satisfying it. St. Anselm adds little to the\nforce of this argument, and does much to obscure its real significance.\n\nIn stating the ontological argument the term perfection has been\nexpressly emphasized, because it may be taken to embrace both truth and\ngoodness. Owing to a habit of thought, due in the main to Plato, it was\nlong customary to regard degrees of truth and goodness as\ninterchangeable, and as equivalent to degrees of reality. The _ens\nrealissimum_ was in its completeness the highest object both of the\nfaculty of cognition and of the moral will. But even in the scholastic\nperiod these two different aspects of the ideal were clearly recognized,\nand led to sharply divergent tendencies. More recently they have been\ndivided and embodied in separate arguments. _The epistemological_\nargument _defines God in terms of that absolute truth which is referred\nto in every judgment_. Under the influence of idealism this absolute\ntruth has taken the form of a universal mind, or all-embracing standard\nexperience, called more briefly the absolute. The _ethical_ argument, on\nthe other hand, conceives God as _the perfect goodness implied in the\nmoral struggle, or the power through which goodness is made to triumph\nin the universe_ to the justification of moral faith. While the former\nof these arguments identifies God with being, the latter defines God in\nterms of the intent or outcome of being. Thus, while the epistemological\nargument does not distinguish God and the world, the latter does so,\nassuming that independent reality can be attributed to the stages of a\nprocess and to the purpose that dominates it.\n\n[Sidenote: The Cosmological Proof of God.]\n\nSect. 89. The _cosmological_ proof of God approaches him through the\nattribute of creative omnipotence. The common principle of causal\nexplanation refers the origin of natural events to similar antecedent\nevents. But there must be some _first cause_ from which the whole series\nis derived, a cause which is ultimate, sufficient to itself, and the\nresponsible author of the world. Because God's function as creator was a\npart of the Christian teaching, and because explanation by causes is\nhabitual with common sense, this argument has had great vogue. But in\nphilosophy it has declined in importance, chiefly because it has been\nabsorbed in arguments which deal with the _kind_ of causality proper to\na first cause or world-ground. The argument that follows is a case in\npoint.\n\n[Sidenote: The Teleological Proof of God.]\n\nSect. 90. The _teleological_ proof argues that the world can owe its\norigin only to an _intelligent first cause_. The evidence for this is\nfurnished by the cunning contrivances and beneficent adaptations of\nnature. These could not have come about through chance or the working of\nmechanical forces, but only through the foresight of a rational will.\nThis argument originally infers God from the character of nature and\nhistory; and the extension of mechanical principles to organic and\nsocial phenomena, especially as stimulated by Darwin's principle of\nnatural selection, has tended greatly to diminish its importance. When,\non the other hand, for nature and history there are substituted the\nintellectual and moral activities themselves, and the inference is made\nto the ideal which they imply, the teleological argument merges into the\nontological. But the old-fashioned statement of it remains in the form\nof religious faith, and in this capacity it has had the approval even\nof Hume and Kant, the philosophers who have contributed most forcibly to\nits overthrow as a demonstration of God. They agree that the\n_acknowledgment_ of God in nature and history is the sequel to a\ntheistic belief, and an inevitable attitude on the part of the religious\nconsciousness.\n\n[Sidenote: God and the World. Theism and Pantheism.]\n\nSect. 91. Another group of ideas belonging to philosophical theology\nconsists of three generalizations respecting God's relation to the\nworld, known as _theism_, _pantheism_, and _deism_. Although,\ntheoretically, these are corollaries of the different arguments for God,\ntwo of them, theism and pantheism, owe their importance to their rivalry\nas religious tendencies. _Theism_ emphasizes that attitude to God which\nrecognizes in him an historical personage, in some sense distinct from\nboth the world and man, which are his works and yet stand in an external\nrelationship to him. It expresses the spirit of ethical and monotheistic\nreligion, and is therefore the natural belief of the Christian.\n_Pantheism_ appears in primitive religion as an animistic or\npolytheistic sense of the presence of a divine principle diffused\nthroughout nature. But it figures most notably in the history of\nreligions, in the highly reflective Brahmanism of India. In sharp\nopposition to Christianity, this religion preaches the indivisible unity\nof the world and the illusoriness of the individual's sense of his own\nindependent reality. In spite of the fact that such a doctrine is alien\nto the spirit of Christianity, it enters into Christian theology through\nthe influence of philosophy. The theoretical idea of God tends, as we\nhave seen, to the identification of him with the world as its most real\nprinciple. Or it bestows upon him a nature so logical and formal, and so\nfar removed from the characters of humanity, as to forbid his entering\ninto personal or social relations. Such reflections concerning God find\ntheir religious expression in a mystical sense of unity, which has in\nmany cases either entirely replaced or profoundly modified the theistic\nstrain in Christianity. In current philosophy pantheism appears in the\nepistemological argument which identifies God with being; while the\nchief bulwark of theism is the ethical argument, with its provision for\na distinction between the actual world and ideal principle of evolution.\n\n[Sidenote: Deism.]\n\nSect. 92. While theism and pantheism appear to be permanent phases in\nthe philosophy of religion, _deism_ is the peculiar product of the\neighteenth century. It is based upon a repudiation of supernaturalism\nand \"enthusiasm,\" on the one hand, and a literal acceptance of the\ncosmological and teleological proofs on the other. Religions, like all\nelse, were required, in this epoch of clear thinking, to submit to the\ncanons of experimental observation and practical common sense. These\nauthorize only a _natural religion_, the acknowledgment in pious living\nof a God who, having contrived this natural world, has given it over to\nthe rule, not of priests and prophets, but of natural law. The\nartificiality of its conception of God, and the calculating spirit of\nits piety, make deism a much less genuine expression of the religious\nexperience than either the moral chivalry of theism or the intellectual\nand mystical exaltation of pantheism.\n\n[Sidenote: Metaphysics and Theology.]\n\nSect. 93. The systematic development of philosophy leads to the\ninclusion of conceptions of God within the problem of metaphysics, and\nthe subordination of the proof of God to the determination of the\nfundamental principle of reality. There will always remain, however, an\noutstanding theological discipline, whose function it is to interpret\nworship, or the living religious attitude, in terms of the theoretical\nprinciples of philosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Psychology is the Theory of the Soul.]\n\nSect. 94. _Psychology is the theory of the soul._ As we have already\nseen, the rise of scepticism directs attention from the object of\nthought to the thinker, and so emphasizes the self as a field for\ntheoretical investigation. But the original and the dominating interest\nin the self is a practical one. The precept, +gno:thi seauton+, has its\ndeepest justification in the concern for the salvation of one's soul. In\nprimitive and half-instinctive belief the self is recognized in\npractical relations. In its animistic phase this belief admitted of such\nrelations with all living creatures, and extended the conception of life\nvery generally to natural processes. Thus in the beginning the self was\ndoubtless indistinguishable from the vital principle. In the first\ntreatise on psychology, the \"+peri Psyche:s+\" of Aristotle, this\ninterpretation finds a place in theoretical philosophy. For Aristotle\nthe soul is the _entelechy_ of the body--that function or activity which\nmakes a man of it. He recognized, furthermore, three stages in this\nactivity: the nutritive, sensitive, and rational souls, or the\nvegetable, animal, and distinctively human natures, respectively. The\nrational soul, in its own proper activity, is man's highest\nprerogative, the soul to be saved. By virtue of it man rises above\nbodily conditions, and lays hold on the divine and eternal. But Plato,\nwho, as we have seen, was ever ready to grant reality to the ideal apart\nfrom the circumstances of its particular embodiment, had already\nundertaken to demonstrate the immortality of the soul on the ground of\nits distinctive nature.[209:16] According to his way of thinking, the\nsoul's essentially moral nature made it incapable of destruction through\nthe operation of natural causes. It is evident, then, that there were\nalready ideas in vogue capable of interpreting the Christian teaching\nconcerning the existence of a soul, or of an inner essence of man\ncapable of being made an object of divine interest.\n\n[Sidenote: Spiritual Substance]\n\nSect. 95. The immediate effect of Christianity was to introduce into\nphilosophy as one of its cardinal doctrines the theory of a spiritual\nbeing, constituting the true self of the individual, and separable from\nthe body. The difference recognized in Plato and Aristotle between the\ndivine spark and the appetitive and perceptual parts of human nature was\nnow emphasized. The former (frequently called the \"spirit,\" to\ndistinguish it from the lower soul) was defined as a _substance_ having\nthe attributes of thought and will. The fundamental argument for its\nexistence was the immediate appeal to self-consciousness; and it was\nfurther defined as indestructible on the ground of its being utterly\ndiscontinuous and incommensurable with its material environment. This\ntheory survives at the present day in the conception of pure activity,\nbut on the whole the attributes of the soul have superseded its\nsubstance.\n\n[Sidenote: Intellectualism and Voluntarism.]\n\nSect. 96. _Intellectualism and voluntarism_ are the two rival\npossibilities of emphasis when the soul is defined in terms of its known\nactivities. Wherever the essence of personality is in question, as also\noccurs in the case of theology, thought and will present their\nrespective claims to the place of first importance. _Intellectualism\nwould make will merely the concluding phase of thought, while\nvoluntarism would reduce thought to one of the interests of a general\nappetency._ It is evident that idealistic theories will be much\nconcerned with this question of priority. It is also true, though less\nevident, that intellectualism, since it emphasizes the general and\nobjective features of the mind, tends to subordinate the individual to\nthe universal; while voluntarism, emphasizing desire and action, is\nrelatively individualistic, and so, since there are many individuals,\nalso pluralistic.[211:17]\n\n[Sidenote: Freedom of the Will. Necessitarianism, Determinism, and\nIndeterminism.]\n\nSect. 97. The question of the _freedom of the will_ furnishes a favorite\ncontroversial topic in philosophy. For the interest at stake is no less\nthan the individual's responsibility before man and God for his good or\nbad works. It bears alike upon science, religion, and philosophy, and is\nat the same time a question of most fundamental practical importance.\nBut this diffusion of the problem has led to so considerable a\ncomplication of it that it becomes necessary in outlining it to define\ntwo issues. In the first place, the concept of freedom is designed to\nexpress generally the distinction between man and the rest of nature. To\nmake man in all respects _the product and creature of his natural\nenvironment_ would be to deny freedom and accept the radically\n_necessitarian_ doctrine. The question still remains, however, as to the\ncauses which dominate man. He may be free from nature, and yet be ruled\nby God, or by distinctively spiritual causes, such as ideas or\ncharacter. Where in general the will is regarded as submitting only to a\n_spiritual causation_ proper to its own realm, the conception is best\nnamed _determinism_; though in the tradition of philosophy it is held to\nbe a doctrine of freedom, because contrasted with the necessitarianism\nabove defined. There remains _indeterminism_, which attributes to the\nwill a spontaneity that makes possible the _direct presence to it of\ngenuine alternatives_. The issue may here coincide with that between\nintellectualism and voluntarism. If, _e.g._, in God's act of creation,\nhis ideals and standards are prior to his fiat, his conduct is\ndetermined; whereas it is free in the radical or indeterministic sense\nif his ideals themselves are due to his sheer will. This theory involves\nat a certain point in action the absence of cause. On this account the\nfree will is often identified with _chance_, in which case it loses its\ndistinction from nature, and we have swung round the circle.\n\n[Sidenote: Immortality. Survival and Eternalism.]\n\nSect. 98. There is similar complexity in the problem concerning\n_immortality_. Were the extreme claims of naturalism to be established,\nthere would be no ground whatsoever upon which to maintain the\nimmortality of man, mere dust returning unto dust. The philosophical\nconcept of immortality is due to the supposition that the quintessence\nof the individual's nature is divine.[213:18] But several possibilities\nare at this point open to us. The first would maintain the survival\nafter death of a recognizable and discrete personality. Another would\nsuppose a preservation after death, through being taken up into the life\nof God. Still another, the theory commonly maintained on the ground of\nrationalistic and idealistic metaphysics, would deny that immortality\nhas to do with life after death, and affirm that it signifies the\nperpetual membership of the human individual in a realm of eternity\nthrough the truth or virtue that is in him. But this interpretation\nevidently leaves open the question of the immortality of that which is\ndistinctive and personal in human nature.\n\n[Sidenote: The Natural Science of Psychology. Its Problems and Method.]\n\nSect. 99. So far we have followed the fortunes only of the \"spirit\" of\nman. What of that lower soul through which he is identified with the\nfortunes of his body? When philosophy gradually ceased, in the sixteenth\nand seventeenth centuries, to be \"the handmaid of religion,\" there arose\na renewed interest in that part of human nature lying between the\nstrictly physiological functions, on the one hand, and thought and will\non the other. Descartes and Spinoza analyzed what they called the\n\"passions,\" meaning such states of mind as are conditioned by a concern\nfor the interests of the body. At a later period, certain English\nphilosophers, following Locke, traced the dependence of ideas upon the\nsenses. Their method was that of _introspection_, or the direct\nexamination by the individual of his own ideas, and for the sake of\nnoting their origin and composition from simple factors. The lineal\ndescendants of these same English philosophers defined more carefully\nthe process of _association_, whereby the complexity and sequence of\nideas are brought about, and made certain conjectures as to its\ndependence upon properties and transactions in the physical brain. These\nare the three main philosophical sources of what has now grown to be the\nseparate _natural science of psychology_. It will be noted that there\nare two characteristics which all of these studies have in common. They\ndeal with the experience of the individual as composing his own private\nhistory, and tend to attribute the specific course which this private\nhistory takes to bodily conditions. It is only recently that these\ninvestigations have acquired sufficient unity and exclusiveness of aim\nto warrant their being regarded as a special science. But such is now so\nfar the case that the psychologist of this type pursues his way quite\nindependently of philosophy. It is true his research has advanced\nconsiderably beyond his understanding of its province. But it is\ngenerally recognized that he must examine those very _factors of\nsubjectivity_ which the natural scientist otherwise seeks to evade, and,\nfurthermore, that he must seek to _provide for them in nature_. He\ntreats the inner life in what Locke called \"the plain historical\nmethod,\" that is to say, instead of interpreting and defining its ideas,\nhe analyzes and reports upon its content. He would not seek to justify a\nmoral judgment, as would ethics, or to criticise the cogency of thought,\nas would logic; but only to describe the actual state as he found it. In\norder to make his data commensurable with the phenomena of nature, he\ndiscovers or defines bodily conditions for the subjective content which\nhe analyzes. His fundamental principle of method is the postulate of\n_psycho-physical parallelism_, according to which he assumes a _state of\nbrain or nervous system for every state of mind_. But in adopting a\nprovince and a method the psychologist foregoes finality of truth after\nthe manner of all natural science. He deals admittedly with an aspect of\nexperience, and his conclusions are no more adequate to the nature of\nthe self than they are to the nature of outer objects. An admirable\nreference to this abstract division of experience occurs in Kuelpe's\n\"Introduction to Philosophy\":\n\n \"For the developed consciousness, as for the naive, every\n experience is an unitary whole; and it is only the habit of\n abstract reflection upon experience that makes the objective\n and subjective worlds seem to fall apart as originally\n different forms of existence. Just as a plane curve can be\n represented in analytical geometry as the function of two\n variables, the abscissae and the ordinates, without prejudice\n to the unitary course of the curve itself, so the world of\n human experience may be reduced to a subjective and an\n objective factor, without prejudice to its real\n coherence.\"[215:19]\n\n[Sidenote: Psychology and Philosophy.]\n\nSect. 100. The problems of psychology, like those of theology, tend to\ndisappear as independent philosophical topics. The ultimate nature of\nthe self will continue to interest philosophers--more deeply, perhaps,\nthan any aspect of experience--but their conception of it will be a\ncorollary of their metaphysics and epistemology. The remainder of the\nfield of the old philosophical psychology, the introspective and\nexperimental analysis of special states of mind, is already the\nprovince of a natural science which is becoming more and more free from\nthe stand-point and method of philosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Transition from Classification by Problems to Classification\nby Doctrines. Naturalism. Subjectivism. Absolute Idealism. Absolute\nRealism.]\n\nSect. 101. Reminding ourselves anew that philosophical problems cannot\nbe treated in isolation from one another, we shall hereinafter seek to\nbecome acquainted with general stand-points that give systematic unity\nto the issues which have been enumerated. Such stand-points are not\nclearly defined by those who occupy them, and they afford no clear-cut\nclassification of all historical philosophical philosophies. But\nsystem-making in philosophy is commonly due to the moving in an\nindividual mind of some most significant idea; and certain of these\nideas have reappeared so frequently as to define more or less clearly\nmarked tendencies, or continuous strands, out of which the history of\nthought is forever weaving itself. Such is clearly the case with\n_naturalism_. From the beginning until now there have been men whose\nphilosophy is a summation of the natural sciences, whose entire thought\nis based upon an acceptance of the methods and the fundamental\nconceptions of these disciplines. This tendency stands in the history\nof thought for the conviction that the visible and tangible world which\ninteracts with the body is veritable reality. This philosophy is\nrealistic and empirical to an extent entirely determined by its belief\nconcerning being. But while naturalism is only secondarily\nepistemological, _subjectivism_ and _absolute idealism_ have their very\nsource in the self-examination and the self-criticism of thought.\nSubjectivism signifies the conviction that the knower cannot escape\nhimself. If reality is to be kept within the range of possible\nknowledge, it must be defined in terms of the processes or states of\nselves. _Absolute idealism_ arises from a union of this epistemological\nmotive with a recognition of what are regarded as the logical\nnecessities to which reality must submit. Reality must be both knowledge\nand rational knowledge; the object, in short, of an absolute mind, which\nshall be at once all-containing and systematic. This rationalistic\nmotive was, however, not originally associated with an idealistic\nepistemology, but with the common-sense principle that being is\ndiscovered and not constituted by thought. Such an _absolute realism_\nis, like naturalism, primarily metaphysical rather than\nepistemological; but, unlike naturalism, it seeks to define reality as\na logical or ethical necessity.\n\nUnder these several divisions, then, we shall meet once more with the\nspecial problems of philosophy, but this time they will be ranged in an\norder that is determined by some central doctrine. They will appear as\nparts not of the general problem of philosophy, but of some definite\nsystem of philosophy.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[180:1] Cf. Sect. 68.\n\n[182:2] The Socratic distinction between the logical and the\npsychological treatment of belief finds its best expression in Plato's\n_Gorgias_, especially, 454, 455. Cf. also Sect. 29.\n\n[182:3] Thus, e. g. Hegel. See Sect. 179. Cf. also Sects. 199, 200.\n\n[183:4] Cf. Sect. 84.\n\n[184:5] See Sect. 69, _note_.\n\n[184:6] The reader will find a good illustration of eristic in Plato's\n_Euthydemus_, 275.\n\n[187:7] The reader can find these rules, and the detail of the\ntraditional formal logic, in any elementary text-book, such as, e. g.,\nJevons: _Elements of Logic_.\n\n[189:8] What is called \"the algebra of logic\" seeks to obtain an\nunequivocal symbolic expression for these truths.\n\n[192:9] Plato: _Protagoras_, 351. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[194:10] Plato: _Apology_, 41. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[195:11] Quoted by Paulsen in his _System of Ethics_. Translation by\nThilly, p. 69.\n\n[198:12] Cf. Sect. 160.\n\n[198:13] Cf. Sect. 177.\n\n[199:14] Concerning the duty of philosophy to religion in these matters,\ncf. Descartes: _Meditations_, _Dedication_. Translation by Veitch, p.\n81.\n\n[201:15] The school-philosophy that flourished from the eleventh to the\nfifteenth century, under the authority of the church.\n\n[209:16] Especially in the _Phaedo_.\n\n[211:17] Schopenhauer is a notable exception. Cf. Sects. 135, 138.\n\n[213:18] It is interesting, however, to observe that current\nspiritualistic theories maintain a naturalistic theory of immortality,\nverifiable, it is alleged, in certain extraordinary empirical\nobservations.\n\n[215:19] Translation by Pillsbury and Titchener, p. 59.\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\nSYSTEMS OF PHILOSOPHY\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nNATURALISM[223:1]\n\n\n[Sidenote: The General Meaning of Materialism.]\n\nSect. 102. The meaning conveyed by any philosophical term consists\nlargely of the distinctions which it suggests. Its peculiar quality,\nlike the physiognomy of the battle-scarred veteran, is a composite of\nthe controversies which it has survived. There is, therefore, an almost\nunavoidable confusion attendant upon the denomination of any early phase\nof philosophy as _materialism_. But in the historical beginnings of\nthought, as also in the common-sense of all ages, there is at any rate\npresent a very essential strand of this theory. The naive habit of mind\nwhich, in the sixth century before Christ, prompted successive Greek\nthinkers to define reality in terms of water, air, and fire, is in this\nrespect one with that exhibited in Dr. Samuel Johnson's smiting the\nground with his stick in curt refutation of Bishop Berkeley's\nidea-philosophy. There is a theoretical instinct, not accidental or\nperverse, but springing from the very life-preserving equipment of the\norganism, which attributes reality to _tangible space-filling things\nencountered by the body_. For obvious reasons of self-interest the\norganism is first of all endowed with a sense of contact, and the more\ndelicate senses enter into its practical economy as means of\nanticipating or avoiding contact. From such practical expectations\nconcerning the proximity of that which may press upon, injure, or\ndisplace the body, arise the first crude judgments of reality. And these\nare at the same time the nucleus of naive philosophy and the germinal\nphase of materialism.\n\n[Sidenote: Corporeal Being.]\n\nSect. 103. The first philosophical movement among the Greeks was a\nseries of attempts to reduce the tangible world to unity, and of these\nthe conception offered by Anaximander is of marked interest in its\nbearing upon the development of materialism. This philosopher is\nremarkable for having _defined_ his first principle, instead of having\nchosen it from among the different elements already distinguished by\ncommon-sense. He thought the unity of nature to consist in its periodic\nevolution from and return into one infinite sum of material (+to\napeiron+), which, much in the manner of the \"nebula\" of modern science,\nis conceived as both indeterminate in its actual state and infinitely\nrich in its potentiality. The conception of matter, the most familiar\ncommonplace of science, begins to be recognizable. It has here reached\nthe point of signifying a common substance for all tangible things, a\nsubstance that in its own general and omnipresent nature is without the\nspecial marks that distinguish these tangible things from one another.\nAnd in so far the philosophy of Anaximander is materialistic.\n\n[Sidenote: Corporeal Processes. Hylozoism and Mechanism.]\n\nSect. 104. But the earliest thinkers are said to be _hylozoists_, rather\nthan strict materialists, because of their failure to make certain\ndistinctions in connection with the _processes_ of matter. The term\nhylozoism unites with the conception of the formless material of the\nworld (+hyle:+), that of an animating power to which its formations and\ntransformations are due. Hylozoism itself was not a deliberate synthesis\nof these two conceptions, but a primitive practical tendency to\nuniversalize the conception, of life. Such \"animism\" instinctively\nassociates with an object's bulk and hardness a capacity for locomotion\nand general initiative. And the material principles defined by the\nphilosophers retain this vague and comprehensive attribute as a matter\nof course, until it is distinguished and separated through attempts to\nunderstand it.\n\nThat aspect of natural process which was most impressive to Greek minds\nof the reflective type was the alternation of \"generation and decay.\" In\nfull accord with his more ancient master, Epicurus, the Latin poet\nLucretius writes:\n\n \"Thus neither can death-dealing motions keep the mastery\n always, nor entomb existence forevermore; nor, on the other\n hand, can the birth and increase giving motions of things\n preserve them always after they are born. Thus the war of\n first beginnings waged from eternity is carried on with\n dubious issue: now here, now there, the life-bringing elements\n of things get the mastery and are o'ermastered in turn: with\n the funeral wail blends the cry which babies raise when they\n enter the borders of light; and no night ever followed day,\n nor morning night, that heard not, mingling with the sickly\n infant's cries, wailings of the attendants on death and black\n funeral.\"[226:2]\n\nIn a similar vein, the earliest conceptions of natural evolution\nattributed it to the coworking of two principles, that of Love or union\nand that of Hate or dissolution. The process is here distinguished from\nthe material of nature, but is still described in the language of\npractical life. A distinction between two aspects of vital phenomena is\nthe next step. These may be regarded in respect either of the motion and\nchange which attend them, or the rationality which informs them. Life is\nboth effective and significant. Although neither of these ideas ever\nwholly ceases to be animistic, they may nevertheless be applied quite\nindependently of one another. The one reduces the primitive animistic\nworld to the lower end of its scale, the other construes it in terms of\na purposive utility commensurable with that of human action. Now it is\nwith _mechanism_, the former of these diverging ways, that the\ndevelopment of materialism is identified. For this philosophy a thing\nneed have no value to justify its existence, nor any acting intelligence\nto which it may owe its origin. Its bulk and position are sufficient for\nits being, and the operation of forces capable of integrating, dividing,\nor moving it is sufficient for its derivation and history. In short,\nthere is no rhyme or reason at the heart of things, but only actual\nmatter distributed by sheer force. With this elimination of the element\nof purposiveness from the hylozoistic world, the content and process of\nnature are fitted to one another. Matter is that which is moved by\nforce, and force is the determining principle of the motions of matter.\nMaterialism is now definitely equipped with its fundamental conceptions.\n\n[Sidenote: Materialism and Physical Science.]\n\nSect. 105. The central conceptions of materialism as a philosophical\ntheory differ from those employed in the physical sciences only in what\nis demanded of them. The scientist reports upon physical phenomena\nwithout accepting any further responsibility, while those who like\nLucretius maintain a physical metaphysics, must, like him, prove that\n\"the minute bodies of matter from everlasting continually uphold the sum\nof things.\" But, though they employ them in their own way, materialists\nand all other exponents of naturalism derive their central conceptions\nfrom the physical sciences, and so reflect the historical development\nthrough which these sciences have passed. To certain historical phases\nof physical science, in so far as these bear directly upon the meaning\nof naturalism, we now turn.\n\n[Sidenote: The Development of the Conceptions of Physical Science. Space\nand Matter.]\n\nSect. 106. From the earliest times down to the present day the\ngroundwork of materialism has most commonly been cast in the form of an\n_atomic theory_. Democritus, the first system-builder of this school,\nadopted the conception of indivisible particles (+atomoi+), impenetrable\nin their occupancy of space, and varying among themselves only in form,\norder, and position. To provide for the motion that distributes them he\nconceived them as separated from one another by empty space. From this\nit follows that the void is as real as matter, or, as Democritus himself\nis reputed to have said, \"thing is not more real than no-thing.\"\n\nBut atomism has not been by any means universally regarded as the most\nsatisfactory conception of the relation between space and matter. Not\nonly does it require two kinds of being, with the different attributes\nof extension and hardness, respectively,[229:3] but it would also seem\nto be experimentally inadequate in the case of the more subtle physical\nprocesses, such as light. The former of these is a speculative\nconsideration, and as such had no little weight with the French\nphilosopher Descartes, whose divisions and definitions so profoundly\naffected the course of thought in these matters after the sixteenth\ncentury. Holding also \"that a vacuum or space in which there is\nabsolutely no body is repugnant to reason,\" and that an indivisible\nspace-filling particle is self-contradictory, he was led to _identify\nspace and matter_; that is, to make matter as indispensable to space as\nspace to matter. There is, then, but one kind of corporeal being, whose\nattribute is extension, and whose modes are motion and rest. The most\nfamous application of the mechanical conceptions which he bases upon\nthis first principle, is his theory of the planets, which are conceived\nto be embedded in a transparent medium, and to move with it, vortex\nfashion, about the sun.[230:4]\n\nBut the conception of the space-filling continuity of material substance\nowes its prominence at the present time to the experimental hypothesis\nof _ether_. This substance, originally conceived to occupy the\nintermolecular spaces and to serve as a medium for the propagation of\nundulations, is now regarded by many physicists as replacing matter. \"It\nis the great hope of science at the present day,\" says a contemporary\nexponent of naturalism, \"that hard and heavy matter will be shown to be\nether in motion.\"[231:5] Such a theory would reduce bodies to the\nrelative displacements of parts of a continuous substance, which would\nbe first of all defined as spacial, and would possess such further\nproperties as special scientific hypotheses might require.\n\nTwo broadly contrasting theories thus appear: that which defines matter\nas a continuous substance coextensive with space; and that which defines\nit as a discrete substance divided by empty space. But both theories are\nseriously affected by the peculiarly significant development of the\nconception of force.\n\n[Sidenote: Motion and its Cause. Development and Extension of the\nConception of Force.]\n\nSect. 107. In the Cartesian system the cause of motion was pressure\nwithin a plenum. But in the seventeenth century this notion encountered\nthe system of Newton, a system which seemed to involve action at a\ndistance. In the year 1728 Voltaire wrote from London:\n\n \"When a Frenchman arrives in London, he finds a very great\n change, in philosophy as well as in most other things. In\n Paris he left the world all full of matter; here he finds\n absolute vacua. At Paris the universe is seen filled up with\n ethereal vortices, while here the same space is occupied with\n the play of the invisible forces of gravitation. In Paris the\n earth is painted for us longish like an egg, and in London it\n is oblate like a melon. At Paris the pressure of the moon\n causes the ebb and flow of tides; in England, on the other\n hand, the sea gravitates toward the moon, so that at the same\n time when the Parisians demand high water of the moon, the\n gentlemen of London require an ebb.\"[232:6]\n\nBut these differences are not matters of taste, nor even rival\nhypotheses upon an equal footing. The Newtonian system of mechanics, the\nconsummation of a development initiated by Galileo, differed from the\nvortex theory of Descartes as exact science differs from speculation and\nunverified conjecture. And this difference of method carried with it\neventually certain profound differences of content, distinguishing the\nNewtonian theory even from that of Democritus, with which it had so much\nin common. Although Democritus had sought to avoid the element of\npurposiveness in the older hylozoism by referring the motions of bodies\nas far as possible to the impact of other bodies, he nevertheless\nattributed these motions ultimately to _weight_, signifying thereby a\ncertain _downward disposition_. Now it is true that in his general\nbelief Newton himself is not free from hylozoism. He thought of the\nmotions of the planets themselves as initiated and quickened by a power\nemanating ultimately from God. They are \"impressed by an intelligent\nAgent,\" and\n\n \"can be the effect of nothing else than the wisdom and skill\n of a powerful ever-living Agent who, being in all places, is\n more able by his will to move the bodies within his boundless\n uniform _sensorium_, and thereby to form and reform the parts\n of the universe, than we are by our will to move the parts of\n our own bodies.\"[233:7]\n\nBut by the side of these statements must be set his famous disclaimer,\n\"_hypotheses non fingo_.\" In his capacity of natural philosopher he did\nnot seek to explain motions, but only to describe them. Disbelieving as\nhe did in action at a distance, he saw no possibility of explanation\nshort of a reference of them to God; but such \"hypotheses\" he thought to\nbe no proper concern of science. As a consequence, the mathematical\nformulation of motions came, through him, to be regarded as the entire\ncontent of mechanics. The notion of an efficient cause of motion is\nstill suggested by the term _force_, but even this term within the\nsystem of mechanics refers always to a definite amount of motion, or\nmeasurement of relative motion. And the same is true of _attraction_,\n_action_, _reaction_, and the like. The further explanation of motion,\nthe definition of a virtue or potency that produces it, first a\nneglected problem, then an irrelevant problem, is finally, for a\nnaturalistic philosophy in which this progression is completed, an\ninsoluble problem. For the sequel to this purely descriptive procedure\non the part of science is the disavowal of \"metaphysics\" by those who\nwill have no philosophy but science. Thus the scientific conservatism of\nNewton has led to the positivistic and agnostic phase of naturalism. But\na further treatment of this development must be reserved until the issue\nof epistemology shall have been definitely raised.\n\nA different emphasis within the general mechanical scheme, attaching\nespecial importance to the conceptions of force and energy, has led to a\nrival tendency in science and a contrasting type of naturalism. The\nmechanical hypotheses hitherto described are all of a simple and readily\ndepicted type. They suggest an imagery quite in accord with common-sense\nand with observation of the motions of great masses like the planets.\nMaterial particles are conceived to move within a containing space; the\nmotions of corpuscles, atoms, or the minute parts of ether, differing\nonly in degree from those of visible bodies. The whole physical\nuniverse may be represented in the imagination as an aggregate of bodies\nparticipating in motions of extraordinary complexity, but of one type.\nBut now let the emphasis be placed upon the determining causes rather\nthan upon the moving bodies themselves. In other words, let the bodies\nbe regarded as attributive and the forces as substantive. The result is\na radical alteration of the mechanical scheme and the transcendence of\ncommon-sense imagery. This was one direction of outgrowth from the work\nof Newton. His force of gravitation prevailed between bodies separated\nby spaces of great magnitude. Certain of the followers of Newton,\nnotably Cotes, accepting the formulas of the master but neglecting his\nallusions to the agency of God, accepted the principle of action at a\ndistance. _Force_, in short, _was conceived to pervade space of itself_.\nBut if force be granted this substantial and self-dependent character,\nwhat further need is there of matter as a separate form of entity? For\ndoes not the presence of matter consist essentially in resistance,\nitself a case of force? Such reflections as these led Boscovich and\nothers to the radical departure of defining material particles _as\ncentres of force_.\n\n[Sidenote: The Development and Extension of the Conception of Energy.]\n\nSect. 108. But a more fruitful hypothesis of the same general order is\ndue to the attention directed to the conception of _energy_, or capacity\nfor work, by experimental discoveries of the possibility of reciprocal\ntransformations without loss, of motion, heat, electricity, and other\nprocesses. The principle of the conservation of energy affirms the\nquantitative constancy of that which is so transformed, measured, for\nexample, in terms of capacity to move units of mass against gravity. The\nexponents of what is called \"energetics\" have in many cases come to\nregard that the quantity of which is so conserved, as a substantial\nreality whose forms and distributions compose nature. A contemporary\nscientist, whose synthetic and dogmatic habit of mind has made him\neminent in the ranks of popular philosophy, writes as follows:\n\n \"Mechanical and chemical energy, sound and heat, light and\n electricity, are mutually convertible; they seem to be but\n different modes of one and the same fundamental force or\n _energy_. Thence follows the important thesis of the unity of\n all natural forces, or, as it may also be expressed, the\n 'monism of energy.'\"[236:8]\n\nThe conception of energy seems, indeed, to afford an exceptional\nopportunity to naturalism. We have seen that the matter-motion theory\nwas satisfied to ignore, or regard as insoluble, problems concerning the\nultimate causes of things. Furthermore, as we shall presently see to\nbetter advantage, the more strictly materialistic type of naturalism\nmust regard thought as an anomaly, and has no little difficulty with\nlife. But the conception of energy is more adaptable, and hence better\nqualified to serve as a common denominator for various aspects of\nexperience. The very readiness with which we can picture the corpuscular\nscheme is a source of embarrassment to the seeker after unity. That\nwhich is so distinct is bristling with incompatibilities. The most\naggressive materialist hesitates to describe thought as a motion of\nbodies in space. Energy, on the other hand, exacts little if anything\nbeyond the character of measurable power. Thought is at any rate in some\nsense a power, and to some degree measurable. Recent discoveries of the\ndependence of capacity for mental exertion upon physical vitality and\nmeasurements of chemical energy received into the system as food, and\nsomehow exhausted by the activities of thought, have lent plausibility\nto the hypothesis of a universal energy of which physical and\n\"psychical\" processes are alike manifestations. And the conception of\nenergy seems capable not only of unifying nature, but also of satisfying\nthe metaphysical demand for an efficient and moving cause. This term,\nlike \"force\" and \"power,\" is endowed with such a significance by common\nsense. Indeed, naturalism would seem here to have swung round toward its\nhylozoistic starting-point. The exponent of energetics, like the naive\nanimistic thinker, attributes to nature a power like that which he feels\nwelling up within himself. When he acts upon the environment, like meets\nlike. Energetics, it is true, may obtain a definite meaning for its\ncentral conception from the measurable behavior of external bodies, and\na meaning that may be quite free from vitalism or teleology. But in his\nextension of the conception the author of a philosophical energetics\nabandons this strict meaning, and blends his thought even with a phase\nof subjectivism, known as _panpsychism_.[238:9] This theory regards the\ninward life of all nature as homogeneous with an immediately felt\nactivity or appetency, as energetics finds the inner life to be\nhomogeneous with the forces of nature. Both owe their philosophical\nappeal to their apparent success in unifying the world upon a direct\nempirical basis, and to their provision for the practical sense of\nreality.\n\nSuch, in brief, are the main alternatives available for a naturalistic\ntheory of being, in consequence of the historical development of the\nfundamental conceptions of natural science.\n\n[Sidenote: The Claims of Naturalism.]\n\nSect. 109. We turn now to an examination of the manner in which\nnaturalism, equipped with working principles, seeks to meet the special\nrequirements of philosophy. The conception of the unity of nature is\ndirectly in the line of a purely scientific development, but naturalism\ntakes the bold and radical step of regarding nature so unified as\ncoextensive with the real, or at any rate knowable, universe. It will be\nremembered that among the early Greeks Anaxagoras had referred the\ncreative and formative processes of nature to a non-natural or rational\nagency, which he called the _Nous_. The adventitious character of this\nprinciple, the external and almost purely nominal part which it played\nin the actual cosmology of Anaxagoras, betrayed it into the hands of\nthe atomists, with their more consistently naturalistic creed. Better,\nthese maintain, the somewhat dogmatic extension of conceptions proved to\nbe successful in the description of nature, than a vague dualism which\ncan serve only to distract the scientific attention and people the world\nwith obscurities. There is a remarkable passage in Lucretius in which\natomism is thus written large and inspired with cosmical eloquence:\n\n \"For verily not by design did the first-beginnings of things\n station themselves each in its right place guided by keen\n intelligence, nor did they bargain sooth to say what motions\n each should assume, but because many in number and shifting\n about in many ways throughout the universe, they are driven\n and tormented by blows during infinite time past, after trying\n motions and unions of every kind at length they fall into\n arrangements such as those out of which our sum of things has\n been formed, and by which too it is preserved through many\n great years, when once it has been thrown into the appropriate\n motions, and causes the streams to replenish the greedy sea\n with copious river waters, and the earth, fostered by the heat\n of the sun, to renew its produce, and the race of living\n things to come up and flourish, and the gliding fires of ether\n to live: all which these several things could in no wise bring\n to pass, unless a store of matter could rise up from infinite\n space, out of which store they are wont to make up in due\n season whatever has been lost.\"[240:10]\n\nThe prophecy of La Place, the great French mathematician, voices the\nsimilar faith of the eighteenth century in a mechanical understanding\nof the universe:\n\n \"The human mind, in the perfection it has been able to give to\n astronomy, affords a feeble outline of such an intelligence.\n Its discoveries in mechanics and in geometry, joined to that\n of universal gravitation, have brought it within reach of\n comprehending in the same analytical expressions the past and\n future states of the system of the world.\"[241:11]\n\nAs for God, the creative and presiding intelligence, La Place had \"no\nneed of any such hypothesis.\"\n\n[Sidenote: The Task of Naturalism.]\n\nSect. 110. But these are the boasts of Homeric heroes before going into\nbattle. The moment such a general position is assumed there arise sundry\ndifficulties in the application of naturalistic principles to special\ninterests and groups of facts. It is one thing to project a mechanical\nscheme in the large, but quite another to make explicit provision within\nit for the origin of nature, for life, for the human self with its\nideals, and for society with its institutions. The naturalistic method\nof meeting these problems involves a reduction all along the line in the\ndirection of such categories as are derived from the infra-organic\nworld. That which is not like the planetary system must be construed as\nmechanical by indirection and subtlety.\n\n[Sidenote: The Origin of the Cosmos.]\n\nSect. 111. The origin of the present known natural world was the first\nphilosophical question to be definitely met by science. The general form\nof solution which naturalism offers is anticipated in the most ancient\ntheories of nature. These already suppose that the observed mechanical\nprocesses of the circular or periodic type, like the revolutions and\nrotations of the stars, are incidents in a historical mechanical process\nof a larger scale. Prior to the present fixed motions of the celestial\nbodies, the whole mass of cosmic matter participated in irregular\nmotions analogous to present terrestrial redistributions. Such motions\nmay be understood to have resulted in the integration of separate\nbodies, to which they at the same time imparted a rotary motion. It is\nsuch a hypothesis that Lucretius paints in his bold, impressionistic\ncolors.\n\nBut the development of mechanics paved the way for a definite scientific\ntheory, the so-called \"nebular hypothesis,\" announced by La Place in\n1796, and by the philosopher Kant at a still earlier date. Largely\nthrough the Newtonian principle of the parallelogram of forces, the\npresent masses, orbits, and velocities were analyzed into a more\nprimitive process of concentration within a nebulous or highly diffused\naggregate of matter. And with the aid of the principle of the\nconservation of energy this theory appears to make possible the\nderivation of heat, light, and other apparently non-mechanical processes\nfrom the same original energy of motion.\n\nBut a persistently philosophical mind at once raises the question of the\norigin of this primeval nebula itself, with a definite organization and\na vast potential energy that must, after all, be regarded as a part of\nnature rather than its source. Several courses are here open to\nnaturalism. It may maintain that the question of ultimate origin is\nunanswerable; it may regard such a process of concentration as extending\nback through an infinitely long past;[243:12] or, and this is the\nfavorite alternative for more constructive minds, the historical\ncosmical process may be included within a still higher type of periodic\nprocess, which is regarded as eternal. This last course has been\nfollowed in the well-known synthetic naturalism of Herbert Spencer.\n\"Evolution,\" he says, \"is the progressive integration of matter and\ndissipation of motion.\" But such a process eventually runs down, and may\nbe conceived as giving place to a counter-process of devolution which\nscatters the parts of matter and gathers another store of potential\nmotion. The two processes in alternation will then constitute a cosmical\nsystem without beginning or end.\n\nIn such wise a sweeping survey of the physical universe may be thought\nin the terms of natural science. The uniformitarian method in geology,\nresolving the history of the crust of the earth into known processes,\nsuch as erosion and igneous fusion;[244:13] and spectral analysis, with\nits discoveries concerning the chemical constituents of distant bodies\nthrough the study of their light, have powerfully reenforced this effort\nof thought, and apparently completed an outline sketch of the universe\nin terms of infra-organic processes.\n\n[Sidenote: Life. Natural Selection.]\n\nSect. 112. But the cosmos must be made internally homogeneous in these\nsame terms. There awaits solution, in the first place, the serious\nproblem of the genesis and maintenance of life within a nature that is\noriginally and ultimately inorganic. The assimilation of the field of\nbiology and physiology to the mechanical cosmos had made little real\nprogress prior to the nineteenth century. Mechanical theories had,\nindeed, been projected in the earliest age of philosophy, and proposed\nanew in the seventeenth century.[245:14] Nevertheless, the structural\nand functional teleology of the organism remained as apparently\nirrefutable testimony to the inworking of some principle other than that\nof mechanical necessity. Indeed, the only fruitful method applicable to\norganic phenomena was that which explained them in terms of purposive\nadaptation. And it was its provision for a mechanical interpretation of\nthis very principle that gave to the Darwinian _law of natural\nselection_, promulgated in 1859 in the \"Origin of Species,\" so profound\na significance for naturalism. It threatened to reduce the last\nstronghold of teleology, and completely to dispense with the intelligent\nAuthor of nature.\n\nDarwin's hypothesis sought to explain the origin of animal species by\nsurvival under competitive conditions of existence through the\npossession of a structure suited to the environment. Only the most\nelementary organism need be presupposed, together with slight variations\nin the course of subsequent generations, and both may be conceived to\narise mechanically. There will then result in surviving organisms a\ngradual accumulation of such variations as promote survival under the\nspecial conditions of the environment. Such a principle had been\nsuggested as early as the time of Empedocles, but it remained for Darwin\nto establish it with an unanswerable array of observation and\nexperimentation. If any organism whatsoever endowed with the power of\ngeneration be allowed to have somehow come to be, naturalism now\npromises to account for the whole subsequent history of organic\nphenomena and the origin of any known species.\n\n[Sidenote: Mechanical Physiology.]\n\nSect. 113. But what of life itself? The question of the derivation of\norganic from inorganic matter has proved insoluble by direct means, and\nthe case of naturalism must here rest upon such facts as the chemical\nhomogeneity of these two kinds of matter, and the conformity of\nphysiological processes to more general physical laws. Organic matter\ndiffers from inorganic only through the presence of proteid, a peculiar\nproduct of known elements, which cannot be artificially produced, but\nwhich is by natural means perpetually dissolved into these elements\nwithout any discoverable residuum. Respiration may be studied as a case\nof aerodynamics, the circulation of the blood as a case of\nhydrodynamics, and the heat given off in the course of work done by the\nbody as a case of thermodynamics. And although vitalistic theories still\nretain a place in physiology, as do teleological theories in biology, on\nthe whole the naturalistic programme of a reduction of organic processes\nto the type of the inorganic tends to prevail.\n\n[Sidenote: Mind. The Reduction to Sensation.]\n\nSect. 114. The history of naturalism shows that, as in the case of life,\nso also in the case of _mind_, its hypotheses were projected by the\nGreeks, but precisely formulated and verified only in the modern period\nof science. In the philosophy of Democritus the soul was itself an atom,\nfiner, rounder, and smoother than the ordinary, but thoroughly a part of\nthe mechanism of nature. The processes of the soul are construed as\ninteractions between the soul and surrounding objects. In sensation, the\nthing perceived produces images by means of effluxes which impinge upon\nthe soul-atom. These images are not true reports of the outer world, but\nmust be revised by thought before its real atomic structure emerges.\nFor this higher critical exercise of thought Democritus devised no\nspecial atomic genesis. The result may be expressed either as the\ninvalidity of such operations of mind as he could provide for in his\nuniverse, or the irreducibility to his chosen first principles of the\nvery thought which defined them. Later naturalism has generally\nsacrificed epistemology to cosmology, and reduced thought to sensation.\nSimilarly, will has been regarded as a highly developed case of\ninstinct. Knowledge and will, construed as sensation and instinct, may\nthus be interpreted in the naturalistic manner within the field of\nbiology.\n\n[Sidenote: Automatism.]\n\nSect. 115. But the actual content of sensation, and the actual feelings\nwhich attend upon the promptings of instinct, still stubbornly testify\nto the presence in the universe of something belonging to a wholly\ndifferent category from matter and motion. The attitude of naturalism in\nthis crucial issue has never been fixed and unwavering, but there has\ngradually come to predominate a method of denying to the inner life all\nefficacy and real significance in the cosmos, while admitting its\npresence on the scene. It is a strange fact of history that Descartes,\nthe French philosopher who prided himself on having rid the soul of all\ndependence on nature, should have greatly contributed to this method.\nBut it is perhaps not so strange when we consider that every dualism is,\nafter all, symmetrical, and that consequently whatever rids the soul of\nnature at the same time rids nature of the soul. It was Descartes who\nfirst conceived the body and soul to be utterly distinct substances. The\ncorollary to this doctrine was his _automatism_, applied in his own\nsystem to animals other than man, but which those less concerned with\nreligious tradition and less firmly convinced of the soul's originating\nactivity were not slow to apply universally. This theory conceived the\nvital processes to take place quite regardless of any inner\nconsciousness, or even without its attendance. To this radical theory\nthe French materialists of the eighteenth century were especially\nattracted. With them the active soul of Descartes, the distinct\nspiritual entity, disappeared. This latter author had himself admitted a\ndepartment of the self, which he called the \"passions,\" in which the\ncourse and content of mind is determined by bodily conditions. Extending\nthis conception to the whole province of mind, they employed it to\ndemonstrate the thorough-going subordination of mind to body. La\nMettrie, a physician and the author of a book entitled \"L'Homme\nMachine,\" was first interested in this thesis by a fever delirium, and\nafterward adduced anatomical and pathological data in support of it. The\nangle from which he views human life is well illustrated in the\nfollowing:\n\n \"What would have sufficed in the case of Julius Caesar, of\n Seneca, of Petronius, to turn their fearlessness into timidity\n or braggartry? An obstruction in the spleen, the liver, or the\n _vena portae_. For the imagination is intimately connected\n with these viscera, and from them arise all the curious\n phenomena of hypochondria and hysteria. . . . 'A mere nothing,\n a little fibre, some trifling thing that the most subtle\n anatomy cannot discover, would have made two idiots out of\n Erasmus and Fontenelle.'\"[250:15]\n\n[Sidenote: Radical Materialism. Mind as an Epiphenomenon.]\n\nSect. 116. The extreme claim that the soul is a physical organ of the\nbody, identical with the brain, marked the culmination of this militant\nmaterialism, so good an instance of that over-simplification and\nwhole-hearted conviction characteristic of the doctrinaire propagandism\nof France. Locke, the Englishman, had admitted that possibly the\nsubstance which thinks is corporeal. In the letters of Voltaire this\nthought has already found a more positive expression:\n\n \"I am body, and I think; more I do not know. Shall I then\n attribute to an unknown cause what I can so easily attribute\n to the only fruitful cause I am acquainted with? In fact,\n where is the man who, without an absurd godlessness, dare\n assert that it is impossible for the Creator to endow matter\n with thought and feeling?\"[251:16]\n\nFinally, Holbach, the great systematizer of this movement, takes the\naffair out of the hands of the Creator and definitively announces that\n\"a sensitive soul is nothing but a human brain so constituted that it\neasily receives the motions communicated to it.\"[251:17]\n\nThis theory has been considerably tempered since the age of Holbach.\nNaturalism has latterly been less interested in identifying the soul\nwith the body, and more interested in demonstrating its dependence upon\nspecific bodily conditions, after the manner of La Mettrie. The\nso-called higher faculties, such as thought and will, have been related\nto central or _cortical_ processes of the nervous system, processes of\nconnection and complication which within the brain itself supplement the\nimpulses and sensations congenitally and externally stimulated. The\nterm \"epiphenomenon\" has been adopted to express the distinctness but\nentire dependence of the mind. Man is \"a conscious automaton.\" The real\ncourse of nature passes through his nervous system, while consciousness\nattends upon its functions like a shadow, present but not\nefficient.[252:18]\n\n[Sidenote: Knowledge, Positivism and Agnosticism.]\n\nSect. 117. Holbach's \"Systeme de la Nature,\" published in 1770, marks\nthe culmination of the unequivocally materialistic form of naturalism.\nIts epistemological difficulties, always more or less in evidence, have\nsince that day sufficed to discredit materialism, and to foster the\ngrowth of a critical and apologetic form of naturalism known as\n_positivism_ or _agnosticism_. The modesty of this doctrine does not, it\nis true, strike very deep. For, although it disclaims knowledge of\nultimate reality, it also forbids anyone else to have any. Knowledge, it\naffirms, can be of but one type, that which comprises the verifiable\nlaws governing nature. All questions concerning first causes are\nfutile, a stimulus only to excursions of fancy popularly mistaken for\nknowledge. The superior certainty and stability which attaches to\nnatural science is to be permanently secured by the savant's steadfast\nrefusal to be led away after the false gods of metaphysics.\n\nBut though this is sufficient ground for an agnostic policy, it does\nprove an agnostic theory. The latter has sprung from a closer analysis\nof knowledge, though it fails to make a very brave showing for\nthoroughness and consistency. The crucial point has already been brought\nwithin our view. The general principles of naturalism require that\nknowledge shall be reduced to sensations, or impressions of the\nenvironment upon the organism. But the environment and the sensations do\nnot correspond. The environment is matter and motion, force and energy;\nthe sensations are of motions, to be sure, but much more conspicuously\nof colors, sounds, odors, pleasures, and pains. Critically, this may be\nexpressed by saying that since the larger part of sense-perception is so\nunmistakably subjective, and since all knowledge alike must be derived\nfrom this source, knowledge as a whole must be regarded as dealing only\nwith appearances. There are at least three agnostic methods progressing\nfrom this point. All agree that the inner or essential reality is\nunfathomable. But, in the first place, those most close to the tradition\nof materialism maintain that the most significant appearances, the\nprimary qualities, are those which compose a purely quantitative and\ncorporeal world. The inner essence of things may at any rate be\n_approached_ by a monism of matter or of energy. This theory is\nepistemological only to the extent of moderating its claims in the hope\nof lessening its responsibility. Another agnosticism places all sense\nqualities on a par, but would regard physics and psychology as\ncomplementary reports upon the two distinct series of phenomena in which\nthe underlying reality expresses itself. This theory is epistemological\nto the extent of granting knowledge, viewed as perception, as good a\nstanding in the universe as that which is accorded to its object. But\nsuch a dualism tends almost irresistibly to relapse into materialistic\nmonism, because of the fundamental place of physical conceptions in the\nsystem of the sciences. Finally, in another and a more radical phase of\nagnosticism, we find an attempt to make full provision for the\nlegitimate problems of epistemology. The only datum, the only existent\naccessible to knowledge, is said to be the sensation, or state of\nconsciousness. In the words of Huxley:\n\n \"What, after all, do we know of this terrible 'matter' except\n as a name for the unknown and hypothetical cause of states of\n our own consciousness? And what do we know of that 'spirit'\n over whose threatened extinction by matter a great lamentation\n is arising, . . . except that it is also a name for an unknown\n and hypothetical cause, or condition, of states of\n consciousness?\"[255:19]\n\nThe physical world is now to be regarded as a construction which does\nnot assimilate to itself the content of sensations, but enables one to\nanticipate them. The sensation signifies a contact to which science can\nprovide a key for practical guidance.\n\n[Sidenote: Experimentalism.]\n\nSect. 118. This last phase of naturalism is an attempt to state a pure\nand consistent experimentalism, a workable theory of the routine of\nsensations. But it commonly falls into the error of the vicious circle.\nThe hypothetical cause of sensations is said to be matter. From this\npoint of view the sensation is a complex, comprising elaborate physical\nand physiological processes. But these processes themselves, on the\nother hand, are said to be analyzable into sensations. Now two such\nmethods of analysis cannot be equally ultimate. If all of reality is\nfinally reducible to sensations, then the term sensation must be used\nin a new sense to connote a self-subsistent being, and can no longer\nrefer merely to a function of certain physiological processes. The issue\nof this would be some form of idealism or of the experience-philosophy\nthat is now coming so rapidly to the front.[256:20] But while it is true\nthat idealism has sometimes been intended, and that a radically new\nphilosophy of experience has sometimes been closely approached, those,\nnevertheless, who have developed experimentalism from the naturalistic\nstand-point have in reality achieved only a thinly disguised\nmaterialism. For _the very ground of their agnosticism is\nmaterialistic_.[256:21] Knowledge of reality itself is said to be\nunattainable, because knowledge, in order to come within the order of\nnature, must be regarded as reducible to sensation; and because\nsensation itself, when regarded as a part of nature, is only a\nphysiological process, a special phenomenon, in no way qualified to be\nknowledge that is true of reality.\n\n[Sidenote: Naturalistic Epistemology not Systematic.]\n\nSect. 119. Perhaps, after all, it would be as fair to the spirit of\nnaturalism to relieve it of responsibility for an epistemology. It has\nnever thoroughly reckoned with this problem. It has deliberately\nselected from among the elements of experience, and been so highly\nconstructive in its method as to forfeit its claim to pure empiricism;\nand, on the other hand, has, in this same selection of categories and in\nits insistence upon the test of experiment, fallen short of a\nthorough-going rationalism. While, on the one hand, it defines and\nconstructs, it does so, on the other hand, within the field of\nperception and with constant reference to the test of perception. The\nexplanation and justification of this procedure is to be found in the\naim of natural science rather than in that of philosophy. It is this\nspecial interest, rather than the general problem of being, that\ndetermines the order of its categories. Naturalism as an account of\nreality is acceptable only so far as its success in satisfying specific\ndemands obtains for it a certain logical immunity. These demands are\nunquestionably valid and fundamental, but they are not coextensive with\nthe demand for truth. They coincide rather with the immediate practical\nneed of a formulation of the spacial and temporal changes that confront\nthe will. Hence naturalism is acceptable to common-sense as an account\nof what the every-day attitude to the environment treats as its object.\nNaturalism is common-sense about the \"outer world,\" revised and brought\nup to date with the aid of the results of science. Its deepest spring is\nthe organic instinct for the reality of the tangible, the vital\nrecognition of the significance of that which is on the plane of\ninteraction with the body.\n\n * * * * *\n\n[Sidenote: General Ethical Stand-point.]\n\nSect. 120. Oddly enough, although common-sense is ready to intrust to\nnaturalism the description of the situation of life, it prefers to deal\notherwise with its ideals. Indeed, common-sense is not without a certain\nsuspicion that naturalism is the advocate of moral reversion. It is\nrecognized as the prophecy of the brute majority of life, of those\nconsiderations of expediency and pleasure that are the warrant for its\nsecular moods rather than for its sustaining ideals. And that strand of\nlife is indeed its special province. For the naturalistic method of\nreduction must find the key to human action among those practical\nconditions that are common to man and his inferiors in the scale of\nbeing. In short, human life, like all life, must be construed as the\nadjustment of the organism to its natural environment for the sake of\npreservation and economic advancement.\n\n[Sidenote: Cynicism and Cyrenaicism.]\n\nSect. 121. Early in Greek philosophy this general idea of life was\npicturesquely interpreted in two contrasting ways, those of the Cynic\nand the Cyrenaic. Both of these wise men postulated the spiritual\nindifference of the universe at large, and looked only to the _contact_\nof life with its immediate environment. But while the one hoped only to\nhedge himself about, the other sought confidently the gratification of\nhis sensibilities. The figure of the Cynic is the more familiar.\nDiogenes of the tub practised self-mortification until his dermal and\nspiritual callousness were alike impervious. From behind his protective\nsheath he could without affectation despise both nature and society. He\ncould reckon himself more blessed than Alexander, because, with demand\nreduced to the minimum, he could be sure of a surplus of supply. Having\nrenounced all goods save the bare necessities of life, he could neglect\nboth promises and threats and be played upon by no one. He was securely\nintrenched within himself, an unfurnished habitation, but the citadel of\na king. The Cyrenaic, on the other hand, did not seek to make impervious\nthe surface of contact with nature and society, but sought to heighten\nits sensibility, that it might become a medium of pleasurable feeling.\nFor the inspiration with which it may be pursued this ideal has nowhere\nbeen more eloquently set forth than in the pages of Walter Pater, who\nstyles himself \"the new Cyrenaic.\"\n\n \"Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the\n end. A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a\n variegated, dramatic life. How may we see in them all that is\n to be seen in them by the finest senses? How shall we pass\n most swiftly from point to point, and be present always at the\n focus where the greatest number of vital forces unite in their\n purest energy?\n\n To burn always with this hard, gemlike flame, to maintain this\n ecstacy, is success in life. . . . While all melts under our\n feet, we may well catch at any exquisite passion, or any\n contribution to knowledge that seems by a lifted horizon to\n set the spirit free for a moment, or any stirring of the\n senses, strange dyes, strange colors, and curious odors, or\n work of the artist's hands, or the face of one's friend. Not\n to discriminate every moment some passionate attitude in those\n about us, and in the brilliancy of their gifts some tragic\n dividing of forces on their ways, is, on this short day of\n frost and sun, to sleep before evening.\"[261:22]\n\n[Sidenote: Development of Utilitarianism. Evolutionary Conception of\nSocial Relations.]\n\nSect. 122. In the course of modern philosophy the ethics of naturalism\nhas undergone a transformation and development that equip it much more\nformidably for its competition with rival theories. If the Cynic and\nCyrenaic philosophies of life seem too egoistic and narrow in outlook,\nthis inadequacy has been largely overcome through the modern conception\nof the relation of the individual to society. Man is regarded as so\ndependent upon social relations that it is both natural and rational for\nhim to govern his actions with a concern for the community. There was a\ntime when this relation of dependence was viewed as external, a barter\nof goods between the individual and society, sanctioned by an implied\ncontract. Thomas Hobbes, whose unblushing materialism and egoism\nstimulated by opposition the whole development of English ethics,\nconceived morality to consist in rules of action which condition the\nstability of the state, and so secure for the individual that \"peace\"\nwhich self-interest teaches him is essential to his welfare.\n\n \"And therefore so long a man is in the condition of mere\n nature, which is a condition of war, as private appetite is\n the measure of good and evil: and consequently all men agree\n on this, that peace is good, and therefore also the ways or\n means of peace, which, as I have showed before, are 'justice,'\n 'gratitude,' 'modesty,' 'equity,' 'mercy,' and the rest of\n the laws of Nature, are good; that is to say, 'moral virtues';\n and their contrary 'vices,' evil.\"[262:23]\n\nJeremy Bentham, the apostle of utilitarianism in the eighteenth century,\ndefined political and social sanctions through which the individual\ncould purchase security and good repute with action conducive to the\ncommon welfare. But the nineteenth century has understood the matter\nbetter--and the idea of an evolution under conditions that select and\nreject, is here again the illuminating thought. No individual,\nevolutionary naturalism maintains, has survived the perils of life\nwithout possessing as an inalienable part of his nature, congenital like\nhis egoism, certain impulses and instinctive desires in the interest of\nthe community as a whole. The latest generation of a race whose\nperpetuation has been conditioned by a capacity to sustain social\nrelations and make common cause against a more external environment,\n_is_ moral, and does not adopt morality in the course of a calculating\negoism. Conscience is the racial instinct of self-preservation uttering\nitself in the individual member, who draws his very life-blood from the\ngreater organism.\n\n[Sidenote: Naturalistic Ethics not Systematic.]\n\nSect. 123. This latest word of naturalistic ethics has not won\nacceptance as the last word in ethics, and this in spite of its\nindubitable truth within its scope. For the deeper ethical interest\nseeks not so much to account for the moral nature as to construe and\njustify its promptings. The evolutionary theory reveals the genesis of\nconscience, and demonstrates its continuity with nature, but this falls\nas far short of realizing the purpose of ethical study as a history of\nthe natural genesis of thought would fall short of logic. Indeed,\nnaturalism shows here, as in the realm of epistemology, a persistent\nfailure to appreciate the central problem. Its acceptance as a\nphilosophy, we are again reminded, can be accounted for only on the\nscore of its genuinely rudimentary character. As a rudimentary phase of\nthought it is both indispensable and inadequate. It is the philosophy of\ninstinct, which should in normal development precede a philosophy of\nreason, in which it is eventually assimilated and supplemented.\n\n[Sidenote: Naturalism as Antagonistic to Religion.]\n\nSect. 124. There is, finally, an inspiration for life which this\nphilosophy of naturalism may convey--atheism, its detractors would call\nit, but none the less a faith and a spiritual exaltation that spring\nfrom its summing up of truth. It is well first to realize that which is\ndispiriting in it, its failure to provide for the freedom, immortality,\nand moral providence of the more sanguine faith.\n\n \"For what is man looked at from this point of view? . . . Man,\n so far as natural science by itself is able to teach us, is no\n longer the final cause of the universe, the Heaven-descended\n heir of all the ages. His very existence is an accident, his\n story a brief and transitory episode in the life of one of the\n meanest of the planets. Of the combination of causes which\n first converted a dead organic compound into the living\n progenitors of humanity, science, indeed, as yet knows\n nothing. It is enough that from such beginnings famine,\n disease, and mutual slaughter, fit nurses of the future lords\n of creation, have gradually evolved, after infinite travail, a\n race with conscience enough to feel that it is vile, and\n intelligence enough to know that it is insignificant. . . . We\n sound the future, and learn that after a period, long compared\n with the individual life, but short indeed compared with the\n divisions of time open to our investigation, the energies of\n our system will decay, the glory of the sun will be dimmed,\n and the earth, tideless and inert, will no longer tolerate the\n race which has for a moment disturbed its solitude. Man will\n go down into the pit, and all his thoughts will perish. The\n uneasy consciousness, which in this obscure corner has for a\n brief space broken the contented silence of the universe, will\n be at rest. Matter will know itself no longer. 'Imperishable\n monuments' and 'immortal deeds,' death itself, and love\n stronger than death, will be as though they had never been.\n Nor will anything that _is_ be better or be worse for all that\n the labor, genius, devotion, and suffering of man have\n striven through countless generations to effect.\"[265:24]\n\n[Sidenote: Naturalism as the Basis for a Religion of Service, Wonder,\nand Renunciation.]\n\nSect. 125. But though our philosopher must accept the truth of this\nterrible picture, he is not left without spiritual resources. The\nabstract religion provided for the agnostic faithful by Herbert Spencer\ndoes not, it is true, afford any nourishment to the religious nature. He\nwould have men look for a deep spring of life in the negative idea of\nmystery, the apotheosis of ignorance, while religious faith to live at\nall must lay hold upon reality. But there does spring from naturalism a\npositive religion, whose fundamental motives are those of service,\nwonder, and renunciation: service of humanity in the present, wonder at\nthe natural truth, and renunciation of a universe keyed to vibrate with\nhuman ideals.\n\n \"Have you,\" writes Charles Ferguson, \"had dreams of Nirvana\n and sickly visions and raptures? Have you imagined that the\n end of your life is to be absorbed back into the life of God,\n and to flee the earth and forget all? Or do you want to walk\n on air, or fly on wings, or build a heavenly city in the\n clouds? Come, let us take our kit on our shoulders, and go out\n and build the city _here_.\"[265:25]\n\nFor Haeckel \"natural religion\" is such as\n\n \"the astonishment with which we gaze upon the starry heavens\n and the microscopic life in a drop of water, the awe with\n which we trace the marvellous working of energy in the motion\n of matter, the reverence with which we grasp the universal\n dominance of the law of substance throughout the\n universe.\"[266:26]\n\nThere is a deeper and a sincerer note in the stout, forlorn humanism of\nHuxley:\n\n \"That which lies before the human race is a constant struggle\n to maintain and improve, in opposition to the State of Nature,\n the State of Art of an organized polity; in which, and by\n which, man may develop a worthy civilization, capable of\n maintaining and constantly improving itself, until the\n evolution of our globe shall have entered so far upon its\n downward course that the cosmic process resumes its sway; and,\n once more, the State of Nature prevails over the surface of\n our planet.\"[266:27]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[223:1] PRELIMINARY NOTE.--By _naturalism_ is meant that system of\nphilosophy which defines the universe in the terms of _natural science_.\nIn its dogmatic phase, wherein it maintains that _being is corporeal_,\nit is called _materialism_. In its critical phase, wherein it makes the\ngeneral assertion that the natural sciences constitute the only\n_possible knowledge_, whatever be the nature of reality itself, it is\ncalled _positivism_, _agnosticism_, or simply _naturalism_.\n\n[226:2] Lucretius: _De Rerum Natura_, Bk. II, lines 569-580. Translation\nby Munro.\n\n[229:3] The reader will find an interesting account of these opposing\nviews in Locke's chapter on _Space_, in his _Essay Concerning Human\nUnderstanding_.\n\n[230:4] Descartes distinguished his theory from that of Democritus in\nthe _Principles of Philosophy_, Part IV, Sect. ccii.\n\n[231:5] Pearson: _Grammar of Science_, pp. 259-260. Cf. _ibid._, Chap.\nVII, entire.\n\n[232:6] Quoted in Ueberweg: _History of Philosophy_, II, p. 124.\n\n[233:7] Quoted from the _Opticks_ of Newton by James Ward, in his\n_Naturalism and Agnosticism_, I, p. 43.\n\n[236:8] Haeckel: _Riddle of the Universe_. Translation by McCabe, p.\n254.\n\nThe best systematic presentation of \"energetics\" is to be found in\nOstwald's _Vorlesungen ueber Natur-Philosophie_. Herbert Spencer, in his\nwell-known _First Principles_, makes philosophical use of both \"force\"\nand \"energy.\"\n\n[238:9] Cf. Chap. IX.\n\n[240:10] Lucretius: _Op. cit._, Bk. I, lines 1021-1237.\n\n[241:11] Quoted from La Place's essay on _Probability_ by Ward: _Op.\ncit._, I, p. 41.\n\n[243:12] An interesting account and criticism of such a theory\n(Clifford's) is to be found in Royce's _Spirit of Modern Philosophy_,\nLecture X.\n\n[244:13] This method replaced the old theory of \"catastrophes\" through\nthe efforts of the English geologists, Hutton (1726-1797) and Lyell\n(1767-1849).\n\n[245:14] Harvey's discovery of the circulation of the blood, published\nin 1628, was regarded as a step in this direction.\n\n[250:15] From the account of La Mettrie in Lange: _History of\nMaterialism_. Translation by Thomas, II, pp. 67-68.\n\n[251:16] Quoted from Voltaire's London _Letter on the English_, by\nLange: _Op. cit._, II, p. 18.\n\n[251:17] Quoted by Lange: _Op. cit._, II, p. 113.\n\n[252:18] The phrase \"psycho-physical parallelism,\" current in\npsychology, may mean automatism of the kind expounded above, and may\nalso mean dualism. It is used commonly as a methodological principle to\nsignify that no causal relationship between mind and body, but one of\n_correspondence_, is to be looked for in empirical psychology. Cf. Sect.\n99.\n\n[255:19] Quoted by Ward: _Op. cit._, I, p. 18.\n\n[256:20] There are times when Huxley, _e. g._, would seem to be on the\nverge of the Berkeleyan idealism. Cf. Chap. IX.\n\n[256:21] For the case of Karl Pearson, read his _Grammar of Science_,\nChap. II.\n\n[261:22] Pater: _The Renaissance_, pp. 249-250.\n\n[262:23] Hobbes: _Leviathan,_ Chap. XV.\n\n[265:24] Quoted from Balfour: _Foundations of Belief_, pp. 29-31.\n\n[265:25] Ferguson: _Religion of Democracy_, p. 10.\n\n[266:26] Haeckel: _Op. cit._, p. 344.\n\n[266:27] Huxley: _Evolution and Ethics_, p. 45. _Collected Essays_, Vol.\nIX.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nSUBJECTIVISM[267:1]\n\n\n[Sidenote: Subjectivism Originally Associated with Relativism and\nScepticism.]\n\nSect. 126. When, in the year 1710, Bishop Berkeley maintained the thesis\nof empirical idealism, having rediscovered it and announced it with a\njustifiable sense of originality, he provoked a kind of critical\njudgment that was keenly annoying if not entirely surprising to him. In\nrefuting the conception of material substance and demonstrating the\ndependence of being upon mind, he at once sought, as he did repeatedly\nin later years, to establish the world of practical belief, and so to\nreconcile metaphysics and common-sense. Yet he found himself hailed as a\nfool and a sceptic. In answer to an inquiry concerning the reception of\nhis book in London, his friend Sir John Percival wrote as follows:\n\n \"I did but name the subject matter of your book of\n _Principles_ to some ingenious friends of mine and they\n immediately treated it with ridicule, at the same time\n refusing to read it, which I have not yet got one to do. A\n physician of my acquaintance undertook to discover your\n person, and argued you must needs be mad, and that you ought\n to take remedies. A bishop pitied you, that a desire of\n starting something new should put you upon such an\n undertaking. Another told me that you are not gone so far as\n another gentleman in town, who asserts not only that there is\n no such thing as Matter, but that we ourselves have no being\n at all.\"[268:2]\n\nThere can be no doubt but that the idea of the dependence of real things\nupon their appearance to the individual is a paradox to common-sense. It\nis a paradox because it seems to reverse the theoretical instinct\nitself, and to define the real in those very terms which disciplined\nthought learns to neglect. In the early history of thought the nature of\nthe thinker himself is recognized as that which is likely to distort\ntruth rather than that which conditions it. When the wise man, the\ndevotee of truth, first makes his appearance, his authority is\nacknowledged because he has renounced himself. As witness of the\nuniversal being he purges himself of whatever is peculiar to his own\nindividuality, or even to his human nature. In the aloofness of his\nmeditation he escapes the cloud of opinion and prejudice that obscures\nthe vision of the common man. In short, the element of belief dependent\nupon the thinker himself is the dross which must be refined away in\norder to obtain the pure truth. When, then, in the critical epoch of the\nGreek sophists, Protagoras declares that there is no belief that is not\nof this character, his philosophy is promptly recognized as scepticism.\nProtagoras argues that sense qualities are clearly dependent upon the\nactual operations of the senses, and that all knowledge reduces\nultimately to these terms.\n\n \"The senses are variously named hearing, seeing, smelling;\n there is the sense of heat, cold, pleasure, pain, desire,\n fear, and many more which are named, as well as innumerable\n others which have no name; _with each of them there is born an\n object of sense_,--all sorts of colors born with all sorts of\n sight and sounds in like manner with hearing, and other\n objects with the other senses.\"[269:3]\n\nIf the objects are \"born with\" the senses, it follows that they are born\nwith and appertain to the individual perceiver.\n\n \"Either show, if you can, that our sensations are not\n relative and individual, or, if you admit that they are\n individual, prove that this does not involve the consequence\n that the appearance becomes, or, if you like to say, is to the\n individual only.\"[270:4]\n\nThe same motif is thus rendered by Walter Pater in the Conclusion of his\n\"Renaissance\":\n\n \"At first sight experience seems to bury us under a flood of\n external objects, pressing upon us with a sharp and\n importunate reality, calling us out of ourselves in a thousand\n forms of action. But when reflexion begins to act upon those\n objects they are dissipated under its influence; the cohesive\n force seems suspended like a trick of magic; each object is\n loosed into a group of impressions--color, odor, texture--in\n the mind of the observer. . . . Experience, already reduced to\n a swarm of impressions, is ringed round for each one of us by\n that thick wall of personality through which no real voice has\n ever pierced on its way to us, or from us to that which we can\n only conjecture to be without. Every one of these impressions\n is the impression of the individual in his isolation, each\n mind keeping as a solitary prisoner its own dream of a world.\"\n\nThe Protagorean generalization is due to the reflection that all\nexperience is some individual experience, that no subject of discourse\nescapes the imputation of belonging to some individual's private\nhistory. The individual must start with his own experiences and ideas,\nand he can never get beyond them, for he cannot see outside his own\nvision, or even think outside his own mind. The scepticism of this\ntheory is explicit, and the formulas of Protagoras--the famous \"_Man is\nthe measure of all things_,\" and the more exact formula, \"_The truth is\nwhat appears to each man at each time_\"[271:5]--have been the articles\nof scepticism throughout the history of thought.\n\n[Sidenote: Phenomenalism and Spiritualism.]\n\nSect. 127. There is, therefore, nothing really surprising in the\nreception accorded the \"new philosophy\" of Bishop Berkeley. A sceptical\nrelativism is the earliest phase of subjectivism, and its avoidance at\nonce becomes the most urgent problem of any philosophy which proposes to\nproceed forth from this principle. And this problem Berkeley meets with\ngreat adroitness and a wise recognition of difficulties. But his\nsanguine temperament and speculative interest impel him to what he\nregards as the extension of his first principle, the reintroduction of\nthe conception of substance under the form of spirit, and of the\nobjective order of nature under the form of the mind of God. In short,\nthere are two motives at work in him, side by side: the epistemological\nmotive, restricting reality to perceptions and thoughts, and the\nmetaphysical-religious motive, leading him eventually to the definition\nof reality in terms of perceiving and thinking spirits. And from the\ntime of Berkeley these two principles, _phenomenalism_ and\n_spiritualism_, have remained as distinct and alternating phases of\nsubjectivism. The former is its critical and dialectical conception, the\nlatter its constructive and practical conception.\n\n[Sidenote: Phenomenalism as Maintained by Berkeley. The Problem\nInherited from Descartes and Locke.]\n\nSect. 128. As _phenomenalism_ has its classic statement and proof in the\nwritings of Berkeley, we shall do well to return to these. The fact that\nthis philosopher wished to be regarded as the prophet of common-sense\nhas already been mentioned. This purpose reveals itself explicitly in\nthe series of \"Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous.\" The form in which\nBerkeley here advances his thesis is further determined by the manner in\nwhich the lines were drawn in his day of thought. The world of\nenlightened public opinion was then threefold, consisting of God,\nphysical nature, and the soul. In the early years of the seventeenth\ncentury Descartes had sharply distinguished between the two\nsubstances--mind, with its attribute of thought; and body, with its\nattribute of extension--and divided the finite world between them. God\nwas regarded as the infinite and sustaining cause of both. Stated in the\nterms of epistemology, the object of clear thinking is the physical\ncosmos, the subject of clear thinking the immortal soul. The realm of\nperception, wherein the mind is subjected to the body, embarrasses the\nCartesian system, and has no clear title to any place in it. And without\nattaching cognitive importance to this realm, the system is utterly\ndogmatic in its epistemology.[273:6] For what one substance thinks, must\nbe assumed to be somehow true of another quite independent substance\nwithout any medium of communication. Now between Descartes and Berkeley\nappeared the sober and questioning \"Essay Concerning Human\nUnderstanding,\" by John Locke. This is an interesting combination (they\ncannot be said to blend) of traditional metaphysics and revolutionary\nepistemology. The universe still consists of God, the immortal thinking\nsoul, and a corporeal nature, the object of its thought. But, except for\ncertain proofs of God and self, knowledge is entirely reduced to the\nperceptual type, to sensations, or ideas directly imparted to the mind\nby the objects themselves. To escape dogmatism it is maintained that\nthe real is what is _observed to be present_. But Locke thinks the\nqualities so discovered belong in part to the perceiver and in part to\nthe substance outside the mind. Color is a case of the former, a\n\"secondary quality\"; and extension a case of the latter, a \"primary\nquality.\" And evidently the above empirical test of knowledge is not\nequally well met in these two cases. When I see a red object I know that\nred exists, for it is observed to be present, and I make no claim for it\nbeyond the present. But when I note that the red object is square, I am\nsupposed to know a property that will continue to exist in the object\nafter I have closed my eyes or turned to something else. Here my claim\nexceeds my observation, and the empirical principle adopted at the\noutset would seem to be violated. Berkeley develops his philosophy from\nthis criticism. His refutation of material substance is intended as a\nfull acceptance of the implications of the new empirical epistemology.\nKnowledge is to be all of the perceptual type, where what is known is\ndirectly presented; and, in conformity with this principle, being is to\nbe restricted to the content of the living pulses of experience.\n\n[Sidenote: The Refutation of Material Substance.]\n\nSect. 129. Berkeley, then, beginning with the threefold world of\nDescartes and of common-sense, proposes to apply Locke's theory of\nknowledge to the discomfiture of corporeal nature. It was a radical\ndoctrine, because it meant for him and for his contemporaries the denial\nof all finite objects outside the mind. But at the same time it meant a\nrestoration of the homogeneity of experience, the re-establishment of\nthe qualitative world of every-day living, and so had its basis of\nappeal to common-sense. The encounter between Hylas, the advocate of the\ntraditional philosophy, and Philonous, who represents the author\nhimself, begins with an exchange of the charge of innovation.\n\n _Hyl._ I am glad to find there was nothing in the accounts I\n heard of you.\n\n _Phil._ Pray, what were those?\n\n _Hyl._ You were represented, in last night's conversation, as\n one who maintained the most extravagant opinion that ever\n entered into the mind of man, to wit, that there is no such\n thing as _material substance_ in the world.\n\n _Phil._ That there is no such thing as what _philosophers_\n call _material substance_, I am seriously persuaded: but if I\n were made to see anything absurd or sceptical in this, I\n should then have the same reason to renounce this that I\n imagine I have now to reject the contrary opinion.\n\n _Hyl._ What! can anything be more fantastical, more repugnant\n to Common-Sense, or a more manifest piece of Scepticism, than\n to believe there is no such thing as _matter_?\n\n _Phil._ Softly, good Hylas. What if it should prove that you,\n who hold there is, are, by virtue of that opinion, a greater\n sceptic, and maintain more paradoxes and repugnances to\n Common-Sense, than I who believe no such thing?[276:7]\n\nPhilonous now proceeds with his case. Beginning by obtaining from Hylas\nthe admission that pleasure and pain are essentially relative and\nsubjective, he argues that sensations such as heat, since they are\ninseparable from these feelings, must be similarly regarded. And he is\nabout to annex other qualities in turn to this core of subjectivity,\nwhen Hylas enters a general demurrer:\n\n \"Hold, Philonous, I now see what it was deluded me all this\n time. You asked me whether heat and cold, sweetness and\n bitterness, were not particular sorts of pleasure and pain; to\n which I answered simply that they were. Whereas I should have\n thus distinguished:--those qualities as perceived by us, are\n pleasures or pains; but not as existing in the external\n objects. We must not therefore conclude absolutely, that there\n is no heat in the fire, or sweetness in the sugar, but only\n that heat or sweetness, as perceived by us, are not in the\n fire or sugar.\"[276:8]\n\n[Sidenote: The Application of the Epistemological Principle.]\n\nSect. 130. Here the argument touches upon profound issues. Philonous now\nassumes the extreme empirical contention _that knowledge applies only to\nits own psychological moment, that its object in no way extends beyond\nthat individual situation which we call the state of knowing_. The full\nimport of such an epistemology Berkeley never recognized, but he is\nclearly employing it here, and the overthrow of Hylas is inevitable so\nlong as he does not challenge it or turn it against his opponent. This,\nhowever, as a protagonist of Berkeley's own making, he fails to do, and\nhe plays into Philonous's hands by admitting that what is known only in\nperception must for that reason _consist_ in perception. He frankly owns\n\"that it is vain to stand out any longer,\" that \"colors, sounds, tastes,\nin a word, all those termed _secondary qualities_, have certainly no\nexistence without the mind.\"[277:9]\n\nHylas has now arrived at the distinction between primary and secondary\nqualities. \"Extension, Figure, Solidity, Gravity, Motion, and Rest\" are\nthe attributes of an external substance which is the cause of\nsensations. But the same epistemological principle readily reduces these\nalso to dependence on mind, for, like the secondary qualities, their\ncontent is given only in perception. Hylas is then driven to defend a\ngeneral material substratum, which is the cause of ideas, but to which\nnone of the definite content of these ideas can be attributed. In short,\nhe has put all the content of knowledge on the one side, and admitted\nits inseparability from the perceiving spirit, and left the being of\nthings standing empty and forlorn on the other. This amounts, as\nPhilonous reminds him, to the denial of the reality of the known world.\n\n \"You are therefore, by your principles, forced to deny the\n _reality_ of sensible things; since you made it to consist in\n an absolute existence exterior to the mind. That is to say,\n you are a downright sceptic. So I have gained my point, which\n was to show your principles led to Scepticism.\"[278:10]\n\n[Sidenote: The Refutation of a Conceived Corporeal World.]\n\nSect. 131. Having advanced the direct empiricist argument for\nphenomenalism, Berkeley now gives the rationalistic motive an\nopportunity to express itself in the queries of Hylas as to whether\nthere be not an \"absolute extension,\" somehow abstracted by thought from\nthe relativities of perception. Is there not at least a _conceivable_\nworld independent of perception?\n\nThe answers of Philonous throw much light upon the Berkeleyan position.\nHe admits that thought is capable of separating the primary from the\nsecondary qualities in certain _operations_, but at the same time denies\nthat this is forming an idea of them as separate.\n\n \"I acknowledge, Hylas, it is not difficult to form general\n propositions and reasonings about those qualities, without\n mentioning any other; and, in this sense, to consider or treat\n of them abstractedly. But, how doth it follow that, because I\n can pronounce the word _motion_ by itself, I can form the idea\n of it in my mind exclusive of body? or, because theorems may\n be made of extension and figures, without any mention of\n _great_ or _small_, or any other sensible mode or quality,\n that therefore it is possible such an abstract idea of\n extension, without any particular size or figure, or sensible\n quality, should be distinctly formed, and apprehended by the\n mind? Mathematicians treat of quantity, without regarding what\n other sensible qualities it is attended with, as being\n altogether indifferent to their demonstrations. But, when\n laying aside the words, they contemplate the bare ideas, I\n believe you will find, they are not the pure abstracted ideas\n of extension.\"[279:11]\n\nBerkeley denies that we have ideas of pure extension or motion, because,\nalthough we do actually _deal_ with these and find them intelligible, we\ncan never obtain a state of mind in which they appear as the content. He\napplies this psychological test because of his adherence to the general\nempirical postulate that knowledge is limited to the individual content\nof its own individual states. \"It is a universally received maxim,\" he\nsays, \"that _everything which exists is particular_.\" Now the truth of\nmathematical reckoning is not particular, but is valid wherever the\nconditions to which it refers are fulfilled. Mathematical reckoning, if\nit is to be particular, must be regarded as a particular act or state of\nsome thinker. Its truth must then be construed as relative to the\ninterests of the thinker, as a symbolism which has an instrumental\nrather than a purely cognitive value. This conclusion cannot be disputed\nshort of a radical stand against the general epistemological principle\nto which Berkeley is so far true, the principle that the reality which\nis known in any state of thinking or perceiving is the state itself.\n\n[Sidenote: The Transition to Spiritualism.]\n\nSect. 132. This concludes the purely phenomenalistic strain of\nBerkeley's thought. He has taken the immediate apprehension of sensible\nobjects in a state of mind centring about the pleasure and pain of an\nindividual, to be the norm of knowledge. He has further maintained that\nknowledge cannot escape the particularity of its own states. The result\nis that the universe is composed of private perceptions and ideas.\nStrictly on the basis of what has preceded, Hylas is justified in\nregarding this conclusion as no less sceptical than that to which his\nown position had been reduced; for while he had been compelled to admit\nthat the real is unknowable, Philonous has apparently defined the\nknowable as relative to the individual. But the supplementary\nmetaphysics which had hitherto been kept in the background is now\nrevealed. It is maintained that though perceptions know no external\nworld, they do nevertheless reveal a spiritual substance of which they\nare the states. Although it has hitherto been argued that the _esse_ of\nthings is in their _percipi_, this is now replaced by the more\nfundamental principle that the _esse_ of things is in their _percipere_\nor _velle_. The real world consists not in perceptions, but in\nperceivers.\n\n[Sidenote: Further Attempts to Maintain Phenomenalism.]\n\nSect. 133. Now it is at once evident that the epistemological theory\nwhich has been Berkeley's dialectical weapon in the foregoing argument\nis no longer available. And those who have cared more for this theory\nthan for metaphysical speculation have attempted to stop at this point,\nand so to construe phenomenalism as to make it self-sufficient on its\nown grounds. Such attempts are so instructive as to make it worth our\nwhile to review them before proceeding with the development of the\nspiritualistic motive in subjectivism.\n\nThe world is to be regarded as made up of sense-perceptions, ideas, or\nphenomena. What is to be accepted as the fundamental category which\ngives to all of these terms their subjectivistic significance? So far\nthere seems to be nothing in view save the principle of relativity. The\ntype to which these were reduced was that of the peculiar or unsharable\nexperience best represented by an individual's pleasure and pain. But\nrelativity will not work as a general principle of being. It consigns\nthe individual to his private mind, and cannot provide for the validity\nof knowledge enough even to maintain itself. Some other course, then,\nmust be followed. Perception may be given a psycho-physical definition,\nwhich employs physical terms as fundamental;[282:12] but this flagrantly\ncontradicts the phenomenalistic first principle. Or, reality may be\nregarded as so stamped with its marks as to insure the proprietorship of\nthought. But this definition of certain objective entities of mind, of\nbeings attributed to intelligence because of their intrinsic\nintelligibility, is inconsistent with empiricism, if indeed it does not\nlead eventually to a realism of the Platonic type.[283:13] Finally, and\nmost commonly, the terms of phenomenalism have been retained after their\noriginal meaning has been suffered to lapse. The \"impressions\" of Hume,\n_e. g._, are the remnant of the Berkeleyan world with the spirit\nstricken out. There is no longer any point in calling them impressions,\nfor they now mean only elements or qualities. As a consequence this\noutgrowth of the Berkeleyanism epistemology is at present merging into a\nrealistic philosophy of experience.[283:14] Any one, then, of these\nthree may be the last state of one who undertakes to remain exclusively\nfaithful to the phenomenalistic aspect of Berkeleyanism, embodied in the\nprinciple _esse est percipi_.\n\n[Sidenote: Berkeley's Spiritualism. Immediate Knowledge of the\nPerceiver.]\n\nSect. 134. Let us now follow the fortunes of the other phase of\nsubjectivism--that which develops the conception of the perceiver rather\nthan the perceived. When Berkeley holds that\n\n \"all the choir of heaven and furniture of the Earth, in a\n word, all those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the\n world, have not any subsistence without a Mind,\"\n\nhis thought has transcended the epistemology with which he overthrew the\nconception of material substance, in two directions. For neither mind of\nthe finite type nor mind of the divine type is perceived. But the first\nof these may yet be regarded as a direct empirical datum, even though\nsharply distinguished from an object of perception. In the third\ndialogue, Philonous thus expounds this new kind of knowledge:\n\n \"I own I have properly no _idea_, either of God or any other\n spirit; for these being active, cannot be represented by\n things perfectly inert, as our ideas are. I do nevertheless\n know that I, who am a spirit or thinking substance, exist as\n certainly as I know my ideas exist. Farther, I know what I\n mean by the terms _I_ and _myself_; and I know this\n immediately or intuitively, though I do not perceive it as I\n perceive a triangle, a color, or a sound.\"[284:15]\n\nThe knowledge here provided for may be regarded as empirical because\nthe reality in question is an individual present in the moment of the\nknowledge. Particular acts of perception are said directly to reveal not\nonly perceptual objects, but perceiving subjects. And the conception of\nspiritual substance, once accredited, may then be extended to account\nfor social relations and to fill in the nature of God. The latter\nextension, in so far as it attributes such further predicates as\nuniversality and infinity, implies still a third epistemology, and\nthreatens to pass over into rationalism. But the knowledge of one's\nfellow-men may, it is claimed, be regarded as immediate, like the\nknowledge of one's self. Perceptual and volitional activity has a sense\nfor itself and also a sense for other like activity. The self is both\nself-conscious and socially conscious in an immediate experience of the\nsame type.\n\n[Sidenote: Schopenhauer's Spiritualism, or Voluntarism. Immediate\nKnowledge of the Will.]\n\nSect. 135. But this general spiritualistic conception is developed with\nless singleness of purpose in Berkeley than among the _voluntarists_ and\n_panpsychists_ who spring from Schopenhauer, the orientalist, pessimist,\nand mystic among the German Kantians of the early nineteenth century.\nHis great book, \"Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung,\" opens with the\nphenomenalistic contention that \"the world is my idea.\" It soon appears,\nhowever, that the \"my\" is more profoundly significant than the \"idea.\"\nNature is my creation, due to the working within me of certain fixed\nprinciples of thought, such as space, time, and causality. But nature,\njust because it is my creation, is less than me: is but a manifestation\nof the true being for which I must look _within_ myself. But this inner\nself cannot be made an object of thought, for that would be only to\ncreate another term of nature. The will itself, from which such creation\nsprings, is \"that which is most immediate\" in one's consciousness, and\n\"makes itself known in a direct manner in its particular acts.\" The term\n_will_ is used by Schopenhauer as a general term covering the whole\ndynamics of life, instinct and desire, as well as volition. It is that\nsense of life-preserving and life-enhancing appetency which is the\nconscious accompaniment of struggle. With its aid the inwardness of the\nwhole world may now be apprehended.\n\n \"Whoever has now gained from all these expositions a knowledge\n _in abstracto_, and therefore clear and certain, of what\n everyone knows directly _in concreto_, _i. e._, as feeling, a\n knowledge that his will is the real inner nature of his\n phenomenal being, . . . and that his will is that which is\n most immediate in his consciousness, . . . will find that of\n itself it affords him the key to the knowledge of the inmost\n being of the whole of nature; for he now transfers it to all\n those phenomena which are not given to him, like his own\n phenomenal existence, both in direct and indirect knowledge,\n but only in the latter, thus merely one-sidedly as _idea_\n alone.\"[287:16]\n\nThe heart of reality is thus known by an \"intuitive interpretation,\"\nwhich begins at home in the individual's own heart.\n\n[Sidenote: Panpsychism.]\n\nSect. 136. The panpsychist follows the same course of reflection. There\nis an outwardness and an inwardness of nature, corresponding to the\nknower's body on the one hand, and his feeling or will on the other.\nWith this principle in hand one may pass down the whole scale of being\nand discover no breach of continuity. Such an interpretation of nature\nhas been well set forth by a contemporary writer, who quotes the\nfollowing from the botanist, C. v. Naegeli:\n\n \"Sensation is clearly connected with the reflex actions of\n higher animals. We are obliged to concede it to the other\n animals also, and we have no grounds for denying it to plants\n and inorganic bodies. The sensation arouses in us a condition\n of comfort and discomfort. In general, the feeling of\n pleasure arises when the natural impulses are satisfied, the\n feeling of pain when they are not satisfied. Since all\n material processes are composed of movements of molecules and\n elementary atoms, pleasure and pain must have their seat in\n these particles. . . . Thus the same mental thread runs\n through all material phenomena. The human mind is nothing but\n the highest development on our earth of the mental processes\n which universally animate and move nature.\"[288:17]\n\nAccording to panpsychism, then, physical nature is the manifestation of\nan _appetency or bare consciousness generalized from the thinker's\nawareness of his most intimate self_. Such appetency or bare\nconsciousness is the essential or substantial state of that which\nappears as physical nature.\n\n[Sidenote: The Inherent Difficulty in Spiritualism. No Provision for\nObjective Knowledge.]\n\nSect. 137. We must now turn to the efforts which this doctrine has made\nto maintain itself against the sceptical trend of its own epistemology.\nFor precisely as in the case of phenomenalism its dialectical principle\nthreatens to be self-destructive. Immediate presence is still the test\nof knowledge. But does not immediate presence connote relativity and\ninadequacy, at best; an initial phase of knowledge that must be\nsupplemented and corrected before objective reality and valid truth are\napprehended? Does not the individuality of the individual thinker\nconnote the very maximum of error? Indeed, spiritualism would seem to\nhave exceeded even Protagoreanism itself, and to have passed from\nscepticism to deliberate nihilism. The object of knowledge is no longer\neven, as with the phenomenalist, the thinker's thought, but only his\n_thinking_. And if the thinker's thought is relative to him, then the\nthinker's act of thinking is the very vanishing-point of relativity, the\nnegative term of a negating relation. How is a real, a self-subsistent\nworld to be composed of such? Impelled by a half-conscious realization\nof the hopelessness of this situation, the exponent of spiritualism has\nsought to universalize his conception; to define an _absolute or\nultimate spirit_ other than the individual thinker, though known in and\nthrough him. But it is clear that this development of spiritualism, like\nall of the speculative procedure of subjectivism, threatens to exceed\nthe scope of the original principle of knowledge. There is a strong\npresumption against the possibility of introducing a knowledge of God by\nthe way of the particular presentations of an individual consciousness.\n\n[Sidenote: Schopenhauer's Attempt to Universalize Subjectivism.\nMysticism.]\n\nSect. 138. Schopenhauer must be credited with a genuine effort to accept\nthe metaphysical consequences of his epistemology. His epistemology, as\nwe have seen, defined knowledge as centripetal. The object of real\nknowledge is identical with the subject of knowledge. If I am to know\nthe universal will, therefore, I must in knowing become that will. And\nthis Schopenhauer maintains. The innermost heart of the individual into\nwhich he may retreat, even from his private will, is--the universal. But\nthere is another way of arriving at the same knowledge. In contemplation\nI may become absorbed in principles and laws, rather than be diverted by\nthe particular spacial and temporal objects, until (and this is\npeculiarly true of the aesthetic experience) my interest no longer\ndistinguishes itself, but coincides with truth. In other words, abstract\nthinking and pure willing are not opposite extremes, but adjacent points\non the deeper or transcendent circle of experience. One may reach this\npart of the circle by moving in either of two directions that at the\nstart are directly opposite: by turning in upon the subject or by\nutterly giving one's self up to the object. Reality obtains no\ndefinition by this means. Philosophy, for Schopenhauer, is rather a\nprogramme for realizing the state in which I will the universal and know\nthe universal will. The final theory of knowledge, then, is mysticism,\nreality directly apprehended in a supreme and incommunicable experience,\ndirect and vivid, like perception, and at the same time universal, like\nthought. But the empiricism with which Schopenhauer began, the appeal to\na familiar experience of self as will, has meanwhile been forgotten. The\nidea as object of my perception, and the will as its subject were in the\nbeginning regarded as common and verifiable items of experience. But\nwho, save the occasional philosopher, knows a universal will? Nor have\nattempts to avoid mysticism, while retaining Schopenhauer's first\nprinciple, been successful. Certain voluntarists and panpsychists have\nattempted to do without the universal will, and define the world solely\nin terms of the many individual wills. But, as Schopenhauer himself\npointed out, individual wills cannot be distinguished except in terms of\nsomething other than will, such as space and time. The same is true if\nfor will there be substituted inner feeling or consciousness. Within\nthis category individuals can be distinguished only as points of view,\nwhich to be comparable at all must contain common objects, or be\ndefined in terms of a system of relations like that of the physical\nworld or that of an ethical community. The conception of pure will or\npure feeling inevitably attaches to itself that of an undivided unity,\nif for no other reason because there is no ground for distinction. And\nsuch a unity, a will or consciousness that is no particular act or idea,\ncan be known only in the unique experience which mysticism provides.\n\n[Sidenote: Objective Spiritualism.]\n\nSect. 139. The way of Schopenhauer is the way of one who adheres to the\nbelief that what the thinker knows must always be a part of himself, his\nstate or his activity. From this point of view the important element of\nbeing, its very essence or substance, is not any definable nature but an\nimmediate relation to the knower. The consequence is that the universe\nin the last analysis can only be defined as a supreme state or activity\ninto which the individual's consciousness may develop. Spiritualism has,\nhowever, other interests, interests which may be quite independent of\nepistemology. It is speculatively interested in a kind of being which it\ndefines as spiritual, and in terms of which it proposes to define the\nuniverse. Such procedure is radically different from the\nepistemological criticism which led Berkeley to maintain that the\n_esse_ of objects is in their _percipi_, or Schopenhauer to maintain\nthat \"the world is my idea,\" or that led both of these philosophers to\nfind a deeper reality in immediately intuited self-activity. For now it\nis proposed to _understand_ spirit, discover its properties, and to\nacknowledge it only where these properties appear. I may now know spirit\nas an object; which in its properties, to be sure, is quite different\nfrom matter, but which like matter is capable of subsisting quite\nindependently of my knowledge. This is a metaphysical spiritualism quite\ndistinct from epistemological spiritualism, and by no means easily made\nconsistent therewith. Indeed, it exhibits an almost irrepressible\ntendency to overstep the bounds both of empiricism and subjectivism, an\nhistorical connection with which alone justifies its introduction in the\npresent chapter.\n\n[Sidenote: Berkeley's Conception of God as Cause, Goodness and Order.]\n\nSect. 140. To return again to the instructive example of Bishop\nBerkeley, we find him proving God from the evidence of him in\nexperience, or the need of him to support the claims of experience.\n\n \"But, whatever power I may have over my own thoughts, I find\n the ideas actually perceived by Sense have not a like\n dependence on _my_ will. When in broad daylight I open my\n eyes, it is not in my power to choose whether I shall see or\n no, or to determine what particular objects shall present\n themselves to my view: and so likewise as to the hearing and\n other senses; the ideas imprinted on them are not creatures of\n _my_ will. There is therefore some other Will or Spirit that\n produces them.\n\n The ideas of Sense are more strong, lively, and distinct than\n those of the Imagination; they have likewise a steadiness,\n order, and coherence, and are not excited at random, as those\n which are the effects of human wills often are, but in a\n regular train or series--the admirable connection whereof\n sufficiently testifies the wisdom and benevolence of its\n Author. Now the set rules, or established methods, wherein the\n Mind we depend on excites in us the ideas of Sense, are called\n _the laws of nature_.\"[294:18]\n\nOf the attributes of experience here in question, independence or\n\"steadiness\" is not regarded as _prima facie_ evidence of spirit, but\nrather as an aspect of experience for which some cause is necessary. But\nit is assumed that the power to \"produce,\" with which such a cause must\nbe endowed, is the peculiar prerogative of spirit, and that this cause\ngives further evidence of its spiritual nature, of its eminently\nspiritual nature, in the orderliness and the goodness of its effects.\n\n \"The force that produces, the intellect that orders, the\n goodness that perfects all things is the Supreme\n Being.\"[294:19]\n\nThat spirit is possessed of causal efficacy, Berkeley has in an earlier\npassage proved by a direct appeal to the individual's sense of power.\n\n \"I find I can excite ideas in my mind at pleasure, and vary\n and shift the scene as oft as I think fit. It is no more than\n _willing_, and straightway this or that idea arises in my\n fancy; and by the same power it is obliterated and makes way\n for another. This making and unmaking of ideas doth very\n properly denominate the mind active. Thus much is certain and\n grounded on experience: but when we talk of unthinking agents,\n or of exciting ideas exclusive of volition, we only amuse\n ourselves with words.\"[295:20]\n\nAlthough Berkeley is here in general agreement with a very considerable\nvariety of philosophical views, it will be readily observed that this\ndoctrine tends to lapse into mysticism whenever it is retained in its\npurity. Berkeley himself admitted that there was no \"idea\" of such\npower. And philosophers will as a rule either obtain an idea\ncorresponding to a term or amend the term--always excepting the mystical\nappeal to an inarticulate and indefinable experience. Hence pure power\nrevealed in an ineffable immediate experience tends to give place to\nkinds of power to which some definite meaning may be attached. The\nenergy of physics, defined by measurable quantitative equivalence, is a\ncase in point. The idealistic trend is in another direction, power\ncoming to signify ethical or logical connection. Similarly, in the later\nphilosophy of Berkeley himself, God is known by the nature of his\nactivity rather than by the fact of his activity; and we are said \"to\naccount for a thing, when we show that it is so best.\" God's power, in\nshort, becomes indistinguishable from his universality attended with the\nattributes of goodness and orderliness. But this means that the analogy\nof the human spirit, conscious of its own activity, is no longer the\nbasis of the argument. By the divine will is now meant ethical\nprinciples, rather than the \"here am I willing\" of the empirical\nconsciousness. Similarly the divine mind is defined in terms of logical\nprinciples, such as coherence and order, rather than in terms of the\n\"here am I thinking\" of the finite knower himself. But enough has been\nsaid to make it plain that this is no longer the stand-point of\nempirio-idealism. Indeed, in his last philosophical writing, the\n\"Siris,\" Berkeley is so far removed from the principles of knowledge\nwhich made him at once the disciple and the critic of Locke, as to\npronounce himself the devotee of Platonism and the prophet of\ntranscendentalism. The former strain appears in his conclusion that\n\"the _principles_ of science are neither objects of sense nor\nimagination; and that intellect and reason are alone the sure guides to\ntruth.\"[297:21] His transcendentalism appears in his belief that such\nprinciples, participating in the vital unity of the Individual Purpose,\nconstitute the meaning and so the substantial essence of the universe.\n\n[Sidenote: The General Tendency of Subjectivism to Transcend Itself.]\n\nSect. 141. Such then are the various paths which lead from subjectivism\nto other types of philosophy, demonstrating the peculiar aptitude of the\nformer for departing from its first principle. Beginning with the\nrelativity of all knowable reality to the individual knower, it\nundertakes to conceive reality in one or the other of the terms of this\nrelation, as particular state of knowledge or as individual subject of\nknowledge. But these terms develop an intrinsic nature of their own, and\nbecome respectively _empirical datum_, and _logical_ or _ethical\nprinciple_. In either case the subjectivistic principle of knowledge has\nbeen abandoned. Those whose speculative interest in a definable\nobjective world has been less strong than their attachment to this\nprinciple, have either accepted the imputation of scepticism, or had\nrecourse to the radical epistemological doctrine of mysticism.\n\n[Sidenote: Ethical Theories. Relativism.]\n\nSect. 142. Since the essence of subjectivism is epistemological rather\nthan metaphysical, its practical and religious implications are various.\nThe ethical theories which are corollary to the tendencies expounded\nabove, range from extreme egoism to a mystical universalism. The close\nconnection between the former and relativism is evident, and the form of\negoism most consistent with epistemological relativism is to be found\namong those same Sophists who first maintained this latter doctrine. If\nwe may believe Plato, the Sophists sought to create for their individual\npupils an _appearance_ of good. In the \"Theaetetus,\" Socrates is\nrepresented as speaking thus on behalf of Protagoras:\n\n \"And I am far from saying that wisdom and the wise man have no\n existence; but I say that the wise man is he who makes the\n evils which are and appear to a man, into goods which are and\n appear to him. . . . I say that they (the wise men) are the\n physicians of the human body, and the husbandmen of\n plants--for the husbandmen also take away the evil and\n disordered sensations of plants, and infuse into them good and\n healthy sensations as well as true ones; and the wise and good\n rhetoricians make the good instead of the evil seem just to\n states; for whatever appears to be just and fair to a state,\n while sanctioned by a state, is just and fair to it; but the\n teacher of wisdom causes the good to take the place of the\n evil, both in appearance and in reality.\"[299:22]\n\nAs truth is indistinguishable from the appearance of truth to the\nindividual, so good is indistinguishable from a particular seeming good.\nThe supreme moral value according to this plan of life is the agreeable\nfeeling tone of that dream world to which the individual is forever\nconsigned. The possible perfection of an experience which is \"reduced to\na swarm of impressions,\" and \"ringed round\" for each one of us by a\n\"thick wall of personality\" has been brilliantly depicted in the passage\nalready quoted from Walter Pater, in whom the naturalistic and\nsubjectivistic motives unite.[299:23] If all my experience is strictly\nmy own, then my good must likewise be my own. And if all of my\nexperience is valid only in its instants of immediacy, then my best good\nmust likewise consist in some \"exquisite passion,\" or stirring of the\nsenses.\n\n[Sidenote: Pessimism and Self-denial.]\n\nSect. 143. But for Schopenhauer the internal world opens out into the\nboundless and unfathomable sea of the universal will. If I retire from\nthe world upon my own private feelings, I am still short of the true\nlife, for I am asserting myself against the world. I should seek a sense\nof unison with a world whose deeper heart-beats I may learn to feel and\nadopt as the rhythm of my own. The folly of willing for one's private\nself is the ground of Schopenhauer's pessimism.\n\n \"All _willing_ arises from want, therefore from deficiency,\n and therefore from suffering. The satisfaction of a wish ends\n it; yet for one wish that is satisfied there remain at least\n ten which are denied. Further, the desire lasts long, the\n demands are infinite; the satisfaction is short and scantily\n measured out. But even the final satisfaction is itself only\n apparent; every satisfied wish at once makes room for a new\n one, both are illusions; the one is known to be so, the other\n not yet. No attained object of desire can give lasting\n satisfaction, but merely a fleeting gratification; it is like\n the alms thrown to the beggar, that keeps him alive to-day\n that his misery may be prolonged till the morrow. . . . The\n subject of willing is thus constantly stretched on the\n revolving wheel of Ixion, pours water into the sieve of the\n Danaids, is the ever-longing Tantalus.\"[300:24]\n\nThe escape from this torture and self-deception is possible through the\nsame mystical experience, the same blending with the universe that\nconditions knowledge.\n\n[Sidenote: The Ethics of Welfare.]\n\nSect. 144. But though pleasant dreaming be the most consistent practical\nsequel to a subjectivistic epistemology, its _individualism_ presents\nanother basis for life with quite different possibilities of emphasis.\nIt may develop into an aggressive egoism of the type represented by the\nsophist Thrasymachus, in his proclamation that \"might is right, justice\nthe interest of the stronger.\"[301:25] But more commonly it is tempered\nby a conception of social interest, and serves as the champion of action\nagainst contemplation. The gospel of action is always individualistic.\nIt requires of the individual a sense of his independence, and of the\nreal virtue of his initiative. Hence those voluntarists who emphasize\nthe many individual wills and decline to reduce them, after the manner\nof Schopenhauer, to a universal, may be said to afford a direct\njustification of it. It is true that this practical realism threatens\nthe tenability of an epistemological idealism, but the two have been\nunited, and because of their common emphasis upon the individual such\nprocedure is not entirely inconsequential. Friedrich Paulsen, whose\npanpsychism has already been cited, is an excellent case in point. The\nonly good, he maintains, is \"welfare,\" the fulfilment of those natural\ndesires which both distinguish the individual and signify his\ncontinuity with all grades of being.\n\n \"The goal at which the will aims does not consist in a maximum\n of pleasurable feelings, but in the normal exercise of the\n vital functions for which the species is predisposed. In the\n case of man the mode of life is on the whole determined by the\n nature of the historical unity from which the individual\n evolves as a member. Here the objective content of life, after\n which the will strives, also enters into consciousness with\n the progressive evolution of presentation; the type of life\n becomes a conscious ideal of life.\"[302:26]\n\nHere, contrary to the teaching of Schopenhauer, the good consists in\nindividual attainment, the extension and fulfilment of the _distinct_\ninterests that arise from the common fund of nature. To be and to do to\nthe uttermost, to realize the maximum from nature's investment in one's\nspecial capacities and powers--this is indeed the first principle of a\nmorality of action.\n\n[Sidenote: The Ethical Community.]\n\nSect. 145. But a type of ethics still further removed from the initial\nrelativism has been adopted and more or less successfully assimilated by\nsubjectivistic philosophies. Accepting Berkeley's spirits, with their\nindefinite capacities, and likewise the stability of the ideal\nprinciples that underlie a God-administered world, and morality becomes\nthe obedience which the individual renders to the law. The individual,\nfree to act in his own right, cooperates with the purposes of the\ngeneral spiritual community, whose laws are worthy of obedience though\nnot coercive. The recognition of such a spiritual citizenship, entailing\nopportunities, duties, and obligations, rather than thraldom, partakes\nof the truth as well as the inadequacy of common-sense.\n\n[Sidenote: The Religion of Mysticism.]\n\nSect. 146. As for religion, at least two distinct practical\nappreciations of the universe have been historically associated with\nthis chapter in philosophy. The one of these is the mysticism of\nSchopenhauer, the religious sequel to a universalistic voluntarism.\nSchopenhauer's ethics, his very philosophy, is religion. For the good\nand the true are alike attainable only through identification with the\nAbsolute Will. This consummation of life, transcending practical and\ntheoretical differences, engulfing and effacing all qualities and all\nvalues, is like the Nirvana of the Orient--a positive ideal only for one\nwho has appraised the apparent world at its real value.\n\n \"Rather do we freely acknowledge that what remains after the\n entire abolition of will is for all those who are still full\n of will certainly nothing; but, conversely, to those in whom\n the will has turned and has denied itself, this our world,\n which is so real, with all it's suns and milky-ways--is\n nothing.\"[304:27]\n\n[Sidenote: The Religion of Individual Cooperation with God.]\n\nSect. 147. From the union of the two motives of voluntarism and\nindividualism springs another and a more familiar type of religion, that\nof cooperative spiritual endeavor. In the religion of Schopenhauer the\nsoul must utterly lose itself for the sake of peace; here the soul must\npersist in its own being and activity for the sake of the progressive\ngoodness of the world. For Schopenhauer God is the universal solution,\nin which all motions cease and all differences disappear; here God is\nthe General of moral forces. The deeper and more significant universe is\n\n \"a society of rational agents, acting under the eye of\n Providence, concurring in one design to promote the common\n benefit of the whole, and conforming their actions to the\n established laws and order of the Divine parental wisdom:\n wherein each particular agent shall not consider himself\n apart, but as the member of a great City, whose author and\n founder is God: in which the civil laws are no other than the\n rules of virtue and the duties of religion: and where\n everyone's true interest is combined with his duty.\"[304:28]\n\nBut so uncompromising an optimism is not essential to this religion.\nIts distinction lies rather in its acceptance of the manifest plurality\nof souls, and its appeal to the faith that is engendered by\nservice.[305:29] As William James has said:\n\n \"Even God's being is sacred from ours. To cooperate with his\n creation by the best and rightest response seems all he wants\n of us. In such cooperation with his purposes, not in any\n chimerical speculative conquest of him, not in any theoretical\n drinking of him up, must lie the real meaning of our\n destiny.\"[305:30]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[267:1] PRELIMINARY NOTE. By _Subjectivism_ is meant that system of\nphilosophy which construes the universe in accordance with the\nepistemological principle that _all knowledge is of its own states or\nactivities_. In so far as subjectivism reduces reality to _states of\nknowledge_, such as _perceptions_ or _ideas_, it is _phenomenalism_. In\nso far as it reduces reality to a more _internal active principle_ such\nas _spirit_ or _will_, it is _spiritualism_.\n\n[268:2] Berkeley: _Complete Works_, Vol. I, p. 352. Fraser's edition.\n\n[269:3] Plato: _Theaetetus_, 156. Translation by Jowett. The italics are\nmine.\n\n[270:4] Plato: _Op. cit._, 166.\n\n[271:5] +ale:thes ho hekasto: hekastote dokei.+\n\n[273:6] For another issue out of this situation, cf. Sects. 185-187.\n\n[276:7] Berkeley: _Op. cit._, Vol. I, pp. 380-381.\n\n[276:8] _Ibid._, p. 389.\n\n[277:9] _Ibid._, p. 397.\n\n[278:10] _Ibid._, p. 418.\n\n[279:11] _Ibid._, pp. 403-404.\n\n[282:12] Cf. Pearson: _Grammar of Science_, Chap. II. See above, Sect.\n118.\n\n[283:13] See Chap. XI. Cf. also Sect. 140.\n\n[283:14] The same may be said of the \"permanent possibilities of\nsensation,\" proposed by J. S. Mill. Such possibilities outside of actual\nperception are either nothing or things such as they are known to be\n_in_ perception. In either case they are not perceptions.\n\nIn Ernst Mach's _Analysis of Sensations_, the reader will find an\ninteresting transition from sensationalism to realism through the\nsubstitution of the term _Bestandtheil_ for _Empfindung_. (See\nTranslation by Williams, pp. 18-20.) See below, Sect. 207.\n\n[284:15] Berkeley: _Op. cit._, p. 447.\n\n[287:16] Schopenhauer: _The World as Will and Idea_. Translation by\nHaldane and Kemp, Vol. I, p. 141.\n\n[288:17] Quoted from Naegeli: _Die Mechanisch-physiologische Theorie der\nAbstammungslehre_, by Friedrich Paulsen, in his _Introduction to\nPhilosophy_. Translation by Thilly, p. 103.\n\n[294:18] Berkeley: _Op. cit._, p. 273.\n\n[294:19] _Op. cit._, Vol. I, pp. 272-273.\n\n[295:20] _Op. cit._, Vol. III, p. 278.\n\n[297:21] _Op. cit._, Vol. III, p. 249.\n\n[299:22] Plato: _Theaetetus_, 167. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[299:23] See Sect. 121.\n\n[300:24] Schopenhauer: _Op. cit._ Translation by Haldane and Kemp, Vol.\nI, pp. 253-254.\n\n[301:25] See Plato: _Republic_, Bk. I, 338.\n\n[302:26] Paulsen: _Op. cit._, p. 423.\n\n[304:27] Schopenhauer: _Op. cit._ Translation by Haldane and Kemp, p.\n532.\n\n[304:28] Berkeley: _Op. cit._, Vol. II, p. 138.\n\n[305:29] For an interesting characterization of this type of religion,\ncf. Royce: _Spirit of Modern Philosophy_, p. 46.\n\n[305:30] James: _The Will to Believe_, p. 141.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nABSOLUTE REALISM[306:1]\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Philosopher's Task, and the Philosopher's Object, or the\nAbsolute.]\n\nSect. 148. No one has understood better than the philosopher himself\nthat he cannot hope to be popular with men of practical common-sense.\nIndeed, it has commonly been a matter of pride with him. The classic\nrepresentation of the philosopher's faith in himself is to be found in\nPlato's \"Republic.\" The philosopher is there portrayed in the famous\ncave simile as one who having seen the light itself can no longer\ndistinguish the shadows which are apparent to those who sit perpetually\nin the twilight. Within the cave of shadows he is indeed less at his\nease than those who have never seen the sun. But since he knows the\nsource of the shadows, his knowledge surrounds that of the shadow\nconnoisseurs. And his equanimity need not suffer from the contempt of\nthose whom he understands better than they understand themselves. The\nhistory of philosophy is due to the dogged persistence with which the\nphilosopher has taken himself seriously and endured the poor opinion of\nthe world. But the pride of the philosopher has done more than\nperpetuate the philosophical outlook and problem; it has led to the\nformulation of a definite philosophical conception, and of two great\nphilosophical doctrines. The conception is that of the _absolute_; and\nthe doctrines are that of the _absolute being_, and that of the\n_absolute self_ or _mind_. The former of these doctrines is the topic of\nthe present chapter.\n\nAmong the early Greeks the role of the philosopher was one of\nsuperlative dignity. In point of knowledge he was less easily satisfied\nthan other men. He thought beyond immediate practical problems, devoting\nhimself to a profounder reflection, that could not but induce in him a\nsense of superior intellectual worth. The familiar was not binding upon\nhim, for his thought was emancipated from routine and superficiality.\nFurthermore his intellectual courage and resolution did not permit him\nto indulge in triviality, doubt, or paradox. He sought his own with a\nfaith that could not be denied. Even Heraclitus the Dark, who was also\ncalled \"the Weeping Philosopher,\" because he found at the very heart of\nnature that transiency which the philosophical mind seeks to escape,\nfelt himself to be exalted as well as isolated by that insight. But this\nsentiment of personal aloofness led at once to a division of experience.\nHe who knows truly belongs to another and more abiding world. As there\nis a philosophical way of thought, there is a philosophical way of life,\nand _a philosophical object_. Since the philosopher and the common man\ndo not see alike, the terms of their experience are incommensurable. In\nParmenides the Eleatic this motive is most strikingly exhibited. There\nis a _Way of Truth_ which diverges from the _Way of Opinion_. The\nphilosopher walks the former way alone. And there is an object of truth,\naccessible only to one who takes this way of truth. Parmenides finds\nthis object to be the content of pure affirmation.\n\n \"One path only is left for us to speak of, namely, that _It\n is_. In it are very many tokens that what is, is uncreated and\n indestructible, alone, complete, immovable, and without end.\n Nor was it ever, nor will it be; for now _it is_, all at once,\n a continuous one.\"[308:2]\n\nThe philosophy of Parmenides, commonly called the Eleatic Philosophy,\nis notable for this emergence of the pure concept of _absolute being_ as\nthe final object of knowledge. The philosopher aims to discover that\nwhich is, and so turns away from that which is not or that which ceases\nto be. The negative and transient aspects of experience only hinder him\nin his search for the eternal. It was the great Eleatic insight to\nrealize that the outcome of thought is thus predetermined; that the\nanswer to philosophy is contained in the question of philosophy. The\nphilosopher, in that he resolutely avoids all partiality, relativity,\nand superficiality, must affirm a complete, universal, and ultimate\nbeing as the very object of that perfect knowledge which he means to\npossess. This object is known in the history of these philosophies as\nthe _infinite_ or _absolute_.[309:3]\n\n[Sidenote: The Eleatic Conception of Being.]\n\nSect. 149. The Eleatic reasons somewhat as follows. The philosopher\nseeks to know what is. The object of his knowledge will then contain as\nits primary and essential predicate, that of being. It is a step further\nto _define_ being in terms of this essential predicate.\n\nParmenides thinks of being as a power or strength, a positive\nself-maintenance to which all affirmations refer. The remainder of the\nEleatic philosophy is the analysis of this concept and the proof of its\nimplications. Being must persist through all change, and span all\nchasms. Before being there can be only nothing, which is the same as to\nsay that so far as being is concerned there is no before. Similarly\nthere can be no after or beyond. There can be no motion, change, or\ndivision of being, because being will be in all parts of every division,\nand in all stages of every process. Hence being is \"uncreated and\nindestructible, alone, complete, immovable, and without end.\"\n\nThe argument turns upon the application to being as a whole of the\nmeaning and the implications of _only being_. Being is the affirmative\nor positive. From that _alone_, one can derive only such properties as\neternity or unity. For generation and decay and plurality may belong to\nthat which is _also_ affirmative and positive, but not to that which is\naffirmative and positive _only_. The Eleatic philosophy is due, then, to\nthe determination to derive the whole of reality from the bare necessity\nof being, to cut down reality to what flows entirely from the assertion\nof its only known necessary aspect, that of being. We meet here in its\nsimplest form a persistent rationalistic motive, the attempt to derive\nthe universe from the isolation and analysis of its most universal\ncharacter. As in the case of every well-defined philosophy, this motive\nis always attended by a \"besetting\" problem. Here it is the accounting\nfor what, empirically at least, is alien to that universal character.\nAnd this difficulty is emphasized rather than resolved by Parmenides in\nhis designation of a limbo of opinion, \"in which is no true belief at\nall,\" to which the manifold of common experience with all its\nirrelevancies can be relegated.\n\n[Sidenote: Spinoza's Conception of Substance.]\n\nSect. 150. The Eleatic philosophy, enriched and supplemented, appears\nmany centuries later in the rigorous rationalism of Spinoza.[311:4] With\nSpinoza philosophy is a demonstration of necessities after the manner of\ngeometry. Reality is to be set forth in theorems derived from\nfundamental axioms and definitions. As in the case of Parmenides, these\nnecessities are the implications of the very problem of being. The\nphilosopher's problem is made to solve itself. But for Spinoza that\nproblem is more definite and more pregnant. The problematic being must\nnot only be, but must be _sufficient to itself_. What the philosopher\nseeks to know is primarily an intrinsic entity. Its nature must be\nindependent of other natures, and my knowledge of it independent of my\nknowledge of anything else. Reality is something which need not be\nsought further. So construed, being is in Spinoza's philosophy termed\n_substance_. It will be seen that to define substance is to affirm the\nexistence of it, for substance is so defined as to embody the very\nqualification for existence. Whatever exists exists under the form of\nsubstance, as that \"which is in itself, and is conceived through itself:\nin other words, that of which a conception can be formed independently\nof any other conception.\"[312:5]\n\n[Sidenote: Spinoza's Proof of God, the Infinite Substance. The Modes and\nthe Attributes.]\n\nSect. 151. There remains but one further fundamental thesis for the\nestablishment of the Spinozistic philosophy, the thesis which maintains\nthe exclusive existence of the one \"absolutely infinite being,\" or God.\nThe exclusive existence of God follows from his existence, because of\nthe exhaustiveness of his nature. His is the nature \"consisting in\ninfinite attributes, of which each expresses eternal and infinite\nessentiality.\" He will contain all meaning, and all possible meaning,\nwithin his fixed and necessary constitution. It is evident that if such\na God exist, nothing can fall outside of him. One such substance must be\nthe only substance. But upon what grounds are we to assert God's\nexistence?\n\nTo proceed further with Spinoza's philosophy we must introduce two terms\nwhich are scarcely less fundamental in his system than that of\nsubstance. The one of these is \"attribute,\" by which he means _kind_ or\ngeneral property; the other is \"mode,\" by which he means _case_ or\nindividual thing. Spinoza's proof of God consists in showing that no\nsingle mode, single attribute, or finite group of modes or attributes,\ncan be a substance; but only an infinite system of all modes of all\nattributes. Translated into common speech this means that neither kinds\nnor cases, nor special groups of either, can stand alone and be of\nthemselves, but only the unity of all possible cases of all possible\nkinds.\n\nThe argument concerning the possible substantiality of the case or\nindividual thing is relatively simple. Suppose an attribute or kind,\n_A_, of which there are cases _am_{1}, _am_{2}, _am_{3}, etc. The\nnumber of cases is never involved in the nature of the kind, as is seen\nfor example in the fact that the definition of triangle prescribes no\nspecial number of individual triangles. Hence _am_{1}, _am_{2},\n_am_{3}, etc., must be explained by something outside of their nature.\nTheir being cases of _A_ does not account for their existing severally.\nThis is Spinoza's statement of the argument that individual events, such\nas motions or sensations, are not self-dependent, but belong to a\ncontext of like events which are mutually dependent.\n\nThe question of the attribute is more difficult. Why may not an\nattribute as a complete domain of interdependent events, itself be\nindependent or substantial? Spinoza's predecessor, Descartes, had\nmaintained precisely that thesis in behalf of the domain of thought and\nthe domain of space. Spinoza's answer rests upon the famous ontological\nargument, inherited from scholasticism and generally accepted in the\nfirst period of modern philosophy. The evidence of existence, he\ndeclares, is clear and distinct conceivability.\n\n \"For a person to say that he has a clear and distinct--that\n is, a true--idea of a substance, but that he is not sure\n whether such substance exists, would be the same as if he said\n that he had a true idea, but was not sure whether or no it was\n false.\"[314:6]\n\nNow we can form a clear and distinct idea of an absolutely infinite\nbeing that shall have all possible attributes. This idea is a\nwell-recognized standard and object of reference for thought. But it is\na conception which is highly qualified, not only through its clearness\nand distinctness, but also through its abundance of content. It affirms\nitself therefore with a certainty that surpasses any other certainty,\nbecause it is supported by each and every other certainty, and even by\nthe residuum of possibility. If any intelligible meaning be permitted to\naffirm itself, so much the more irresistible is the claim of this\ninfinitely rich meaning. Since every attribute contributes to its\nvalidity, the being with infinite attributes is infinitely or absolutely\nvalid. The conclusion of the argument is now obvious. If the being\nconstituted by the infinite attributes exists, it swallows up all\npossibilities and exists exclusively.\n\n[Sidenote: The Limits of Spinoza's Argument for God.]\n\nSect. 152. The vulnerable point in Spinoza's argument can thus be\nexpressed: that which is important is questionable, and that which is\nunquestionable is of doubtful importance. Have I indeed a clear and\ndistinct idea of an absolutely infinite being? The answer turns upon the\nmeaning of the phrase \"idea of.\" It is true I can add to such meaning\nas I apprehend the thought of possible other meaning, and suppose the\nwhole to have a definiteness and systematic unity like that of the\ntriangle. But such an idea is problematic. I am compelled to use the\nterm \"possible,\" and so to confess the failure of definite content to\nmeasure up to my idea. My idea of an absolutely infinite being is like\nmy idea of a universal language: I can think _of_ it, but I cannot\n_think it out_, for lack of data or because of the conflicting testimony\nof other data. If I mean the infinity of my being to be a term of\ninclusiveness, and to insist that the all must be, and that there can be\nnothing not included in the all, I can scarcely be denied. But it is\nreasonable to doubt the importance of such a truth. If, on the other\nhand, I mean that my infinite being shall have the compactness and\norganic unity of a triangle, I must admit that such a being is indeed\nproblematic. The degree to which the meaning of the part is dependent\nupon the meaning of the whole, or the degree to which the geometrical\nanalogy is to be preferred to the analogy of aggregates, like the events\nwithin a year, is a problem that falls quite outside Spinoza's\nfundamental arguments.\n\n[Sidenote: Spinoza's Provision for the Finite.]\n\nSect. 153. But the advance of Spinoza over the Eleatics must not be lost\nsight of. The modern philosopher has so conceived being as to provide\nfor parts within an individual unity. The geometrical analogy is a most\nilluminating one, for it enables us to understand how manyness may be\nindispensable to a being that is essentially unitary. The triangle as\ntriangle is one. But it could not be such without sides and angles. The\nunity is equally necessary to the parts, for sides and angles of a\ntriangle could not be such without an arrangement governed by the nature\ntriangle. The whole of nature may be similarly conceived: as the\nreciprocal necessity of _natura naturans_, or nature defined in respect\nof its unity, and _natura naturata_, or nature specified in detail.\nThere is some promise here of a reconciliation of the _Way of Opinion_\nwith the _Way of Truth_. Opinion would be a gathering of detail, truth a\ncomprehension of the intelligible unity. Both would be provided for\nthrough the consideration that whatever is complete and necessary must\nbe made up of incompletenesses that are necessary to it.\n\n[Sidenote: Transition to Teleological Conceptions.]\n\nSect. 154. This consideration, however, does not receive its most\neffective formulation in Spinoza. The isolation of the parts, the\nactual severalty and irrelevance of the modes, still presents a grave\nproblem. Is there a kind of whole to which not only parts but fragments,\nor parts in their very incompleteness, are indispensable? This would\nseem to be true of a _progression_ or _development_, since that would\nrequire both perfection as its end, and degrees of imperfection as its\nstages. Spinoza was prevented from making much of this idea by his\nrejection of the principle of _teleology_. He regarded appreciation or\nvaluation as a projection of personal bias. \"Nature has no particular\ngoal in view,\" and \"final causes are mere human figments.\" \"The\nperfection of things is to be reckoned only from their own nature and\npower.\"[318:7] The philosophical method which Spinoza here repudiates,\nthe interpretation of the world in moral terms, is _Platonism_, an\nindependent and profoundly important movement, belonging to the same\ngeneral realistic type with Eleaticism and Spinozism. Absolute being is\nagain the fundamental conception. Here, however, it is conceived that\nbeing is primarily not affirmation or self-sufficiency, but the _good_\nor _ideal_. There are few great metaphysical systems that have not been\ndeeply influenced by Platonism; hence the importance of understanding it\nin its purity. To this end we must return again to the early Greek\nconception of the philosopher; for Platonism, like Eleaticism, is a\nsequel to the philosopher's self-consciousness.\n\n[Sidenote: Early Greek Philosophers not Self-critical.]\n\nSect. 155. Although the first Greek philosophers, such men as Thales,\nHeraclitus, Parmenides, and Empedocles, were clearly aware of their\ndistinction and high calling, it by no means follows that they were good\njudges of themselves. Their sense of intellectual power was\nunsuspecting; and they praised philosophy without definitely raising the\nquestion of its meaning. They were like unskilled players who try all\nthe stops and scales of an organ, and know that somehow they can make a\nmusic that exceeds the noises, monotones or simple melodies of those who\nplay upon lesser instruments. They knew their power rather than their\ninstrument or their art. The first philosophers, in short, were\nself-conscious but not self-critical.\n\n[Sidenote: Curtailment of Philosophy in the Age of the Sophists.]\n\nSect. 156. The immediately succeeding phase in the history of Greek\nphilosophy was a curtailment, but only in the most superficial sense a\ncriticism, of the activity of the philosopher. In the Periclean Age\nphilosophy suffered more from inattention than from refutation. The\nscepticism of the sophists, who were the knowing men of this age, was\nnot so much conviction as indisposition. They failed to recognize the\nold philosophical problem; it did not _appeal_ to them as a genuine\nproblem. The sophists were the intellectual men of an age of _humanism_,\n_individualism_, and _secularism_. These were years in which the circle\nof human society, the state with its institutions, citizenship with its\nmanifold activities and interests, bounded the horizon of thought. What\nneed to look beyond? Life was not a problem, but an abundant opportunity\nand a sense of capacity. The world was not a mystery, but a place of\nentertainment and a sphere of action. Of this the sophists were faithful\nwitnesses. In their love of novelty, irreverence, impressionism,\nelegance of speech, and above all in their praise of individual\nefficiency, they preached and pandered to their age. Their public,\nthough it loved to abuse them, was the greatest sophist of them\nall--brilliant and capricious, incomparably rich in all but wisdom. The\nmajority belonged to what Plato called \"the sight-loving, art-loving,\nbusy class.\" This is an age, then, when the man of practical\ncommon-sense is pre-eminent, and the philosopher with his dark sayings\nhas passed away. The pride of wisdom has given way to the pride of power\nand the pride of cleverness. The many men pursue the many goods of life,\nand there is no spirit among them all who, sitting apart in\ncontemplation, wonders at the meaning of the whole.\n\n[Sidenote: Socrates and the Self-criticism of the Philosopher.]\n\nSect. 157. But in their midst there moved a strange prophet, whom they\nmistook for one of themselves. Socrates was not one who prayed in the\nwilderness, but a man of the streets and the market-place, who talked\nrather more incessantly than the rest, and apparently with less right.\nHe did not testify to the truth, but pleaded ignorance in extenuation of\nan exasperating habit of asking questions. There was, however, a humor\nand a method in his innocence that arrested attention. He was a\nformidable adversary in discussion from his very irresponsibility; and\nhe was especially successful with the more rhetorical sophists because\nhe chose his own weapons, and substituted critical analysis, question\nand answer, for the long speeches to which these teachers were\nhabituated by their profession. He appeared to be governed by an\ninsatiable inquisitiveness, and a somewhat malicious desire to discredit\nthose who spoke with authority.\n\nBut to those who knew him better, and especially to Plato, who knew him\nbest, Socrates was at once the sweetest and most compelling spirit of\nhis age. There was a kind of truth in the quality of his character. He\nwas perhaps _the first of all reverent men_. In the presence of conceit\nhis self-depreciation was ironical, but in another presence it was most\ngenuine, and his deepest spring of thought and action. This other\npresence was his own ideal. Socrates was sincerely humble because,\nexpecting so much of philosophy, he saw his own deficiency. Unlike the\nunskilled player, he did not seek to _make_ music; but he loved music,\nand knew that such music as is indeed music was beyond his power. On the\nother hand he was well aware of his superiority to those in whom\nself-satisfaction was possible because they had no conception of the\nideal. Of such he could say in truth that they did not know enough even\nto realize the extent of their ignorance. The world has long been\nfamiliar with the vivid portrayal of the Socratic consciousness which is\ncontained in Plato's \"Apology.\" Socrates had set out in life with the\nopinion that his was an age of exceptional enlightenment. But as he\ncame to know men he found that after all no one of them really knew what\nhe was about. Each \"sight-loving, art-loving, busy\" man was quite blind\nto the meaning of life. While he was capable of practical achievement,\nhis judgments concerning the real virtue of his achievements were\nconventional and ungrounded, a mere reflection of tradition and opinion.\nWhen asked concerning the meaning of life, or the ground of his\nopinions, he was thrown into confusion or aggravated to meaningless\nreiteration. Such men, Socrates reflected, were both unwise and\nconfirmed in their folly through being unconscious of it. Because he\nknew that vanity is vanity, that opinion is indeed mere opinion,\nSocrates felt himself to be the wisest man in a generation of dogged\nunwisdom.\n\n[Sidenote: Socrates's Self-criticism a Prophecy of Truth.]\n\nSect. 158. It is scarcely necessary to point out that this insight,\nhowever negatively it be used, is a revelation of positive knowledge.\nHeraclitus and Parmenides claimed to know; Socrates disclaimed knowledge\n_for reasons_. Like all real criticism this is at once a confounding of\nerror and a prophecy of truth. The truth so discovered is indeed not\nordinary truth concerning historical or physical things, but not on\nthat account less significant and necessary. This truth, it will also be\nadmitted, is virtually rather than actually set forth by Socrates\nhimself. He knew that life has some meaning which those who live with\nconviction desire at heart to realize, and that knowledge has principles\nwith which those who speak with conviction intend to be consistent.\nThere is, in short, a rational life and a rational discourse.\nFurthermore, a rational life will be a life wisely directed to the end\nof the good; and a rational discourse one constructed with reference to\nthe real natures of things, and the necessities which flow from these\nnatures. But Socrates did not conclusively define either the meaning of\nlife or the form of perfect knowledge. He testified to the necessity of\nsome such truths, and his testimony demonstrated both the blindness of\nhis contemporaries and also his own deficiency.\n\n[Sidenote: The Historical Preparation for Plato.]\n\nSect. 159. The character and method of Socrates have their best foil in\nthe sophists, but their bearing on the earlier philosophers is for our\npurposes even more instructive. Unlike Socrates these philosophers had\nnot made a study of the task of the philosopher. They _were_\nphilosophers--\"spectators of all time and all existence\"; but they were\nprecritical or dogmatic philosophers, to whom it had not occurred to\ndefine the requirements of philosophy. They knew no perfect knowledge\nother than their own actual knowledge. They defined being and\ninterpreted life without reflecting upon the quality of the knowledge\nwhose object is being, or the quality of insight that would indeed be\npractical wisdom. But when through Socrates the whole philosophical\nprospect is again revealed after the period of humanistic concentration,\nit is as an ideal whose possibilities, whose necessities, are conceived\nbefore they are realized. Socrates celebrates the role of the\nphilosopher without assigning it to himself. The new philosophical\nobject is the philosopher himself; and the new insight a knowledge of\nknowledge itself. These three types of intellectual procedure, dogmatic\nspeculation concerning being, humanistic interest in life, and the\nself-criticism of thought, form the historical preparation for Plato,\nthe philosopher who defined being as the ideal of thought, and upon this\nground interpreted life.\n\nThere is no more striking case in history of the subtle continuity of\nthought than the relation between Plato and his master Socrates. The\nwonder of it is due to the absence of any formulation of doctrine on\nthe part of Socrates himself. He only lived and talked; and yet Plato\ncreated a system of philosophy in which he is faithfully embodied. The\nform of embodiment is the dialogue, in which the talking of Socrates is\nperpetuated and conducted to profounder issues, and in which his life is\nboth rendered and interpreted. But as the vehicle of Plato's thought\npreserves and makes perfect the Socratic method, so the thought itself\nbegins with the Socratic motive and remains to the end an expression of\nit. The presentiment of perfect knowledge which distinguished Socrates\nfrom his contemporaries becomes in Plato the clear vision of a realm of\nideal truth.\n\n[Sidenote: Platonism: Reality as the Absolute Ideal or Good.]\n\nSect. 160. Plato begins his philosophy with the philosopher and the\nphilosopher's interest. The philosopher is a lover, who like all lovers\nlongs for the beautiful. But he is the supreme lover, for he loves not\nthe individual beautiful object but the Absolute Beauty itself. He is a\nlover too in that he does not possess, but somehow apprehends his object\nfrom afar. Though imperfect, he seeks perfection; though standing like\nall his fellows in the twilight of half-reality, he faces toward the\nsun. Now it is the fundamental proposition of the Platonic philosophy\nthat reality is the sun itself, or the perfection whose possession every\nwise thinker covets, whose presence would satisfy every longing of\nexperience. The real is that beloved object which is \"truly beautiful,\ndelicate, perfect, and blessed.\" There is both a serious ground for such\nan affirmation and an important truth in its meaning. The ground is the\nevident incompleteness of every special judgment concerning experience.\nWe understand only in part, and we know that we understand only in part.\nWhat we discover is real enough for practical purposes, but even\ncommon-sense questions the true reality of its objects. Special\njudgments seem to terminate our thought abruptly and arbitrarily. We\ngive \"the best answer we can,\" but such answers do not come as the\ncompletion of our thinking. Our thought is in some sense surely a\nseeking, and it would appear that we are not permitted to rest and be\nsatisfied at any stage of it. If we do so we are like the\nsophists--blind to our own ignorance. But it is equally true that our\nthought is straightforward and progressive. We are not permitted to\nreturn to earlier stages, but must push on to that which is not less,\nbut more, than what we have as yet found. There is good hope, then, of\nunderstanding what the ideal may be from our knowledge of the direction\nwhich it impels us to follow.\n\nBut to understand Plato's conception of the progression of experience we\nmust again catch up the Socratic strain which he weaves into every\ntheme. For Socrates, student of life and mankind, all objects were\nobjects of interest, and all interests practical interests. One is\nignorant when one does not know the good of things; opinionative when\none rates things by conventional standards; wise when one knows their\nreal good. In Platonism this practical interpretation of experience\nappears in the principle that the object of perfect knowledge is _the\ngood_. The nature of things which one seeks to know better is the good\nof things, the absolute being which is the goal of all thinking is the\nvery good itself. Plato does not use the term good in any merely\nutilitarian sense. Indeed it is very significant that for Plato there is\nno cleavage between theoretical and practical interests. To be morally\ngood is to know the good, to set one's heart on the true object of\naffection; and to be theoretically sound is to understand perfection.\nThe good itself is the end of every aim, that in which all interests\nconverge. Hence it cannot be defined, as might a special good, in terms\nof the fulfilment of a set of concrete conditions, but only in terms of\nthe sense or direction of all purposes. The following passage occurs in\nthe \"Symposium\":\n\n \"The true order of going or being led by others to the things\n of love, is to use the beauties of earth as steps along which\n he mounts upward for the sake of that other beauty, going from\n one to two, and from two to all fair forms, and from fair\n forms to fair actions, and from fair actions to fair notions,\n until from fair notions he arrives at the notion of absolute\n beauty, and at last knows what the essence of beauty\n is.\"[329:8]\n\n[Sidenote: The Progression of Experience toward God.]\n\nSect. 161. There is, then, a \"true order of going,\" and an order that\nleads from one to many, from thence to forms, from thence to morality,\nand from thence to the general objects of thought or _the ideas_. In the\n\"Republic,\" where the proper education of the philosopher is in\nquestion, it is proposed that he shall study arithmetic, geometry,\nastronomy, and dialectic. Thus in each case mathematics is the first\nadvance in knowledge, and dialectic the nearest to perfection. Most of\nPlato's examples are drawn from mathematics. This science replaces the\nvariety and vagueness of the forms of experience with _clear_,\n_unitary_, _definite_, and _eternal_ natures, such as the number and\nthe geometrical figure. Thus certain individual things are approximately\ntriangular, but subject to alteration, and indefinitely many. On the\nother hand the triangle as defined by geometry is the fixed and\nunequivocal nature or idea which such experiences suggest; and the\nphilosophical mind will at once pass to it from these. But the\nmathematical objects are themselves not thoroughly understood when\nunderstood only in mathematical terms, for the foundations of\nmathematics are arbitrary. And the same is true of all the so-called\nspecial sciences. Even the scientists themselves, says Plato,\n\n \"only dream about being, but never can behold the waking\n reality so long as they leave the hypotheses they use\n unexamined, and are unable to give an account of them. For\n when a man knows not his own first principle, and when the\n conclusion and intermediate steps are also constructed out of\n he knows not what, how can he imagine that such a conventional\n statement will ever become science?\"[330:9]\n\nWithin the science of dialectics we are to understand the connections\nand sequences of ideas themselves, in the hope of eliminating every\narbitrariness and conventionality within a system of truth that is pure\nand self-luminous rationality. To this science, which is the great\ninterest of his later years, Plato contributes only incomplete studies\nand experiments. We must be satisfied with the playful answer with\nwhich, in the \"Republic,\" he replies to Glaucon's entreaty that \"he\nproceed at once from the prelude or preamble to the chief strain, and\ndescribe that in like manner\": \"Dear Glaucon, you will not be able to\nfollow me here, though I would do my best.\"\n\nBut a philosophical system has been projected. The real is that perfect\nsignificance or meaning which thought and every interest suggests, and\ntoward which there is in experience an appreciable movement. It is this\nsignificance which makes things what they really are, and which\nconstitutes our understanding of them. In itself it transcends the steps\nwhich lead to it; \"for God,\" says Plato, \"mingles not with men.\" But it\nis nevertheless the meaning of human life. And this we can readily\nconceive. The last word may transform the sentence from nonsense into\nsense, and it would be true to say that its sense mingles not with\nnonsense. Similarly the last touch of the brush may transform an\ninchoate mass of color into a picture, disarray into an object of\nbeauty; and its beauty mingles not with ugliness. So life, when it\nfinally realizes itself, obtains a new and incommensurable quality of\nperfection in which humanity is transformed into deity. There is frankly\nno provision for imperfection in such a world. In his later writings\nPlato sounds his characteristic note less frequently, and permits the\nideal to create a cosmos through the admixture of matter. But in his\nmoment of inspiration, the Platonist will have no sense for the\nimperfect. It is the darkness behind his back, or the twilight through\nwhich he passes on his way to the light. He will use even the beauties\nof earth only \"as steps along which he mounts upward for the sake of\nthat other beauty.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Aristotle's Hierarchy of Substances in Relation to\nPlatonism.]\n\nSect. 162. We have met, then, with two distinct philosophical doctrines\nwhich arise from the conception of the _absolute_, or the philosopher's\npeculiar object: the doctrine of the _absolute being_ or _substance_,\nand that of the _absolute ideal_ or _good_. Both doctrines are realistic\nin that they assume reality to be demonstrated or revealed, rather than\ncreated, by knowledge. Both are rationalistic in that they develop a\nsystem of philosophy from the problem of philosophy, or deduce a\ndefinition of reality from the conception, of reality. There remains a\nthird doctrine of the same type--the philosophy of Aristotle, the most\nelaborately constructed system of Greek antiquity, and the most potent\ninfluence exerted upon the Scholastic Philosophy of the long mediaeval\nperiod. This philosophy was rehabilitated in the eighteenth century by\nLeibniz, the brilliant librarian of the court of Hanover. The\nextraordinary comprehensiveness of Aristotle's philosophy makes it quite\nimpossible to render here even a general account of it. There is\nscarcely any human discipline that does not to some extent draw upon it.\nWe are concerned only with the central principles of the metaphysics.\n\nUpon the common ground of rationalism and realism, Plato and Aristotle\nare complementary in temper, method, and principle. Plato's is the\ngenius of inspiration and fertility, Aristotle's the genius of\nerudition, mastery, and synthesis. In form, Plato's is the gift of\nexpression, Aristotle's the gift of arrangement. Plato was born and bred\nan aristocrat, and became the lover of the best--the uncompromising\npurist; Aristotle is middle-class, and limitlessly wide, hospitable, and\npatient in his interests. Thus while both are speculative and acute,\nPlato's mind is intensive and profound, Aristotle's extensive and\norderly. It was inevitable, then, that Aristotle should find Plato\none-sided. The philosophy of the ideal is not worldly enough to be true.\nIt is a religion rather than a theory of reality. Aristotle, however,\nwould not renounce it, but construe it that it may better provide for\nnature and history. This is the significance of his new terminology.\nMatter, to which Plato reluctantly concedes some room as a principle of\ndegradation in the universe, is now admitted to good standing. _Matter_\nor material is indispensable to being as its potentiality or that out of\nwhich it is constituted. The ideal, on the other hand, loses its\nexclusive title to the predicate of reality, and becomes the _form_, or\nthe determinate nature which exists only in its particular embodiments.\nThe being or _substance_ is the concrete individual, of which these are\nthe abstracted aspects. Aristotle's \"form,\" like Plato's \"idea,\" is a\nteleological principle. The essential nature of the object is its\nperfection. It is furthermore essential to the object that it should\nstrive after a higher perfection. With Aristotle, however, the reality\nis not the consummation of the process, the highest perfection in and\nfor itself, but the very hierarchy of objects that ascends toward it.\nThe highest perfection, or God, is not itself coextensive with being,\nbut the final cause of being--that on account of which the whole\nprogression of events takes place. Reality is the development with all\nof its ascending stages from the maximum of potentiality, or matter, to\nthe maximum of actuality, or God the pure form.\n\n[Sidenote: The Aristotelian Philosophy as a Reconciliation of Platonism\nand Spinozism.]\n\nSect. 163. To understand the virtue of this philosophy as a basis for\nthe reconciliation of different interests, we must recall the relation\nbetween Plato and Spinoza. Their characteristic difference appears to\nthe best advantage in connection with mathematical truth. Both regarded\ngeometry as the best model for philosophical thinking, but for different\nreasons. Spinoza prized geometry for its necessity, and proposed to\nextend it. His philosophy is the attempt to formulate a geometry of\nbeing, which shall set forth the inevitable certainties of the universe.\nPlato, on the other hand, prized geometry rather for its definition of\ntypes, for its knowledge of pure or perfect natures such as the circle\nand triangle, which in immediate experience are only approximated. His\nphilosophy defines reality similarly as the absolute perfection.\nApplied to nature Spinozism is mechanical, and looks for necessary laws,\nwhile Platonism is teleological, and looks for adaptation and\nsignificance. Aristotle's position is intermediate. With Plato he\naffirms that the good is the ultimate principle. But this very principle\nis conceived to govern a universe of substances, each of which maintains\nits own proper being, and all of which are reciprocally determined in\ntheir changes. Final causes dominate nature, but work through efficient\ncauses. Reality is not pure perfection, as in Platonism, nor the\nindifferent necessity, as in Spinozism, but the system of beings\nnecessary to the complete progression toward the highest perfection. The\nAristotelian philosophy promises, then, to overcome both the hard\nrealism of Parmenides and Spinoza, and also the supernaturalism of\nPlato.\n\n[Sidenote: Leibniz's Application of the Conception of Development to the\nProblem of Imperfection.]\n\nSect. 164. But it promises, furthermore, to remedy the defect common to\nthese two doctrines, the very besetting problem of this whole type of\nphilosophy. That problem, as has been seen, is to provide for the\nimperfect within the perfect, for the temporal incidents of nature and\nhistory within the eternal being. Many absolutist philosophers have\ndeclared the explanation of this realm to be impossible, and have\ncontented themselves with calling it the realm of opinion or appearance.\nAnd this realm of opinion or appearance has been used as a proof of the\nabsolute. Zeno, the pupil of Parmenides, was the first to elaborate what\nhave since come to be known as the paradoxes of the empirical world.\nMost of these paradoxes turn upon the infinite extension and\ndivisibility of space and time. Zeno was especially interested in the\ndifficulty of conceiving motion, which involves both space and time,\nand thought himself to have demonstrated its absurdity and\nimpossibility.[337:10] His argument is thus the complement of\nParmenides's argument for the indivisible and unchanging substance. Now\nthe method which Zeno here adopts may be extended to cover the whole\nrealm of nature and history. We should then be dialectically driven from\nthis realm to take refuge in absolute being. But the empirical world is\nnot destroyed by disparagement, and cannot long lack champions even\namong the absolutists themselves. The reconciliation of nature and\nhistory with the absolute being became the special interest of Leibniz,\nthe great modern Aristotelian. As a scientist and man of affairs, he\nwas profoundly dissatisfied with Spinoza's resolution of nature, the\nhuman individual, and the human society into the universal being. He\nbecame an advocate of individualism while retaining the general aim and\nmethod of rationalism.\n\nLike Aristotle, Leibniz attributes reality to individual substances,\nwhich he calls \"monads\"; and like Aristotle he conceives these monads to\ncompose an ascending order, with God, the monad of monads, as its\ndominating goal.\n\n \"Furthermore, every substance is like an entire world and like\n a mirror of God, or indeed of the whole world which it\n portrays, each one in its own fashion; almost as the same city\n is variously represented according to the various situations\n of him who is regarding it. Thus the universe is multiplied in\n some sort as many times as there are substances, and the glory\n of God is multiplied in the same way by as many wholly\n different representations of his works.\"[338:11]\n\nThe very \"glory of God,\" then, requires the innumerable finite\nindividuals with all their characteristic imperfections, that the\nuniverse may lack no possible shade or quality of perspective.\n\n[Sidenote: The Problem of Imperfection Remains Unsolved.]\n\nSect. 165. But the besetting problem is in fact not solved, and is one\nof the chief incentives to that other philosophy of absolutism which\ndefines an absolute spirit or mind. Both Aristotle and Leibniz undertake\nto make the perfection which determines the order of the hierarchy of\nsubstances, at the same time the responsible author of the whole\nhierarchy. In this case the dilemma is plain. If the divine form or the\ndivine monad be other than the stages that lead up to it, these latter\ncannot be essential to it, for God is by definition absolutely\nself-sufficient. If, on the other hand, God is identical with the\ndevelopment in its entirety, then two quite incommensurable standards of\nperfection determine the supremacy of the divine nature, that of the\nwhole and that of the highest parts of the whole. The union of these two\nand the definition of a perfection which may be at once the development\nand its goal, is the task of absolute idealism.\n\n[Sidenote: Absolute Realism in Epistemology. Rationalism.]\n\nSect. 166. Of the two fundamental questions of epistemology, absolute\nrealism answers the one explicitly, the other implicitly. As respects\n_the source of the most valid knowledge_, Parmenides, Plato, Aristotle,\nSpinoza are all agreed: true knowledge is the work of reason, of pure\nintellection. Plato is the great exponent of dialectic, or the\nreciprocal affinities and necessities of ideas. Aristotle is the founder\nof deductive logic. Spinoza proposes to consider even \"human actions and\ndesires\" as though he were \"concerned with lines, planes, and solids.\"\nEmpirical data may be the occasion, but cannot be the ground of the\nhighest knowledge. According to Leibniz,\n\n \"it seems that necessary truths, such as we find in pure\n mathematics, and especially in arithmetic and geometry, must\n have principles whose proof does not depend upon instances,\n nor, consequently, upon the witness of the senses, although\n without the senses it would never have come into our heads to\n think of them.\"[340:12]\n\n[Sidenote: The Relation of Thought and its Object in Absolute Realism.]\n\nSect. 167. The answers which these philosophies give to the question of\n_the relation between the state of knowledge and its object_, divide\nthem into two groups. Among the ancients reason is regarded as the means\nof emancipation from the limitations of the private mind. \"The sleeping\nturn aside each into a world of his own,\" but \"the waking\"--the wise\nmen--\"have one and the same world.\" What the individual knows belongs to\nhimself only in so far as it is inadequate. Hence for Plato the ideas\nare not the attributes of a mind, but that self-subsistent truth to\nwhich, in its moments of insight, a mind may have access. Opinion is \"my\nown,\" the truth is being. The position of Aristotle is equally clear.\n\"Actual knowledge,\" he maintains, \"is identical with its object.\"\n\nSpinoza and Leibniz belong to another age. Modern philosophy began with\na new emphasis upon self-consciousness. In his celebrated argument--\"I\nthink, hence I am\" (_cogito ergo sum_)--Descartes established the\nindependent and substantial reality of the thinking activity. The \"I\nthink\" is recognized as in itself a fundamental being, known intuitively\nto the thinker himself. Now although Spinoza and Leibniz are finally\ndetermined by the same motives that obtain in the cases of Plato and\nAristotle, they must reckon with this new distinction between the\nthinker and his object. The result in the case of Spinoza is the\ndoctrine of \"parallelism,\" in which mind is defined as an \"infinite\nattribute\" of substance, an aspect or phase coextensive with the whole\nof being. The result in the case of Leibniz is his doctrine of\n\"representation\" and \"pre-established harmony,\" whereby each monadic\nsubstance is in itself an active spiritual entity, and belongs to the\nuniverse through its knowledge of a specific stage of the development of\nthe universe. But both Spinoza and Leibniz subordinate such conceptions\nas these to the fundamental identity that pervades the whole. With\nSpinoza the attributes belong to the same absolute substance, and with\nLeibniz the monads represent the one universe. And with both, finally,\nthe perfection of knowledge, or the knowledge of God, is\nindistinguishable from its object, God himself. The epistemological\nsubtleties peculiar to these philosophers are not stable doctrines, but\nrender inevitable either a return to the simpler and bolder realism of\nthe Greeks, or a passing over into the more radical and systematic\ndoctrine of absolute idealism.\n\n[Sidenote: The Stoic and Spinozistic Ethics of Necessity.]\n\nSect. 168. We have met with two general motives, both of which are\nsubordinated to the doctrine of an absolute being postulated and sought\nby philosophy. The one of these motives leads to the conception of the\nabsolutely necessary and immutable substance, the other to the\nconception of a consummate perfection. There is an _interpretation of\nlife_ appropriate to each of these conceptions. Both agree in regarding\nlife seriously, in defining reason or philosophy as the highest human\nactivity, and in emphasizing the identity of the individual's good with\nthe good of the universe. But there are striking differences of tone and\nspirit.\n\nAlthough the metaphysics of the Stoics have various affiliations, the\nStoic code of morality is the true practical sequel to the\nEleatic-Spinozistic view of the world. The Stoic is one who has set his\naffections on the eternal being. He asks nothing of it for himself, but\nidentifies himself with it. The saving grace is a sense of reality. The\nvirtuous man is not one who remakes the world, or draws upon it for his\nprivate uses; even less one who rails against it, or complains that it\nhas used him ill. He is rather one who recognizes that there is but one\nreally valid claim, that of the universe itself. But he not only submits\nto this claim on account of its superiority; he makes it his own. The\ndiscipline of Stoicism is the regulation of the individual will to the\nend that it may coincide with the universal will. There is a part of man\nby virtue of which he is satisfied with what things are, whatever they\nbe. That part, designated by the Stoics as \"the ruling part,\" is the\nreason. In so far as man seeks to understand the laws and natures which\nactually prevail, he cannot be discontented with anything whatsoever\nthat may be known to him.\n\n \"For, in so far as we are intelligent beings, we cannot desire\n anything save that which is necessary, nor yield absolute\n acquiescence to anything, save to that which is true:\n wherefore, in so far as we have a right understanding of these\n things, the endeavor of the better part of ourselves is in\n harmony with the order of nature as a whole.\"[344:13]\n\nIn agreement with this teaching of Spinoza's is the famous Stoic formula\nto the effect that \"nothing can happen contrary to the will of the wise\nman,\" who is free through his very acquiescence. If reason be the proper\n\"ruling part,\" the first step in the moral life is the subordination of\nthe appetitive nature and the enthronement of reason. One who is himself\nrational will then recognize the fellowship of all rational beings, and\nthe unitary and beneficent rationality of the entire universe. The\nhighest morality is thus already upon the plane of religion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Platonic Ethics of Perfection.]\n\nSect. 169. With Spinoza and the Stoics, the perfection of the individual\nis reduced to what the universe requires of him. The good man is willing\nto be whatever he must be, for the sake of the whole with which through\nreason he is enabled to identify himself. With Plato and Aristotle the\nperfection of the individual himself is commended, that the universe may\nabound in perfection. The good man is the ideal man--the expression of\nthe type. And how different the quality of a morality in keeping with\nthis principle! The virtues which Plato enumerates--temperance, courage,\nwisdom, and justice--compose a consummate human nature. He is thinking\nnot of the necessities but of the possibilities of life. Knowledge of\nthe truth will indeed be the best of human living, but knowledge is not\nprized because it can reconcile man to his limitations; it is the very\noverflowing of his cup of life. The youth are to\n\n \"dwell in the land of health, amid fair sights and sounds; and\n beauty, the effluence of fair works, will visit the eye and\n ear, like a healthful breeze from a purer region, and\n insensibly draw the soul even in childhood into harmony with\n the beauty of reason.\"[345:14]\n\nAristotle's account of human perfection is more circumstantial and more\nprosaic. \"The function of man is an activity of soul in accordance with\nreason,\" and his happiness or well-being will consist in the fulness of\nrational living. But such fulness requires a sphere of life that will\ncall forth and exercise the highest human capacities. Aristotle frankly\npronounces \"external goods\" to be indispensable, and happiness to be\ntherefore \"a gift of the gods.\" The rational man will acquire a certain\nexquisiteness or finesse of action, a \"mean\" of conduct; and this virtue\nwill be diversified through the various relations into which he must\nenter, and the different situations which he must meet. He will be not\nmerely brave, temperate, and just, as Plato would have him, but liberal,\nmagnificent, gentle, truthful, witty, friendly, and in all\nself-respecting or high-minded. In addition to these strictly moral\nvirtues, he will possess the intellectual virtues of prudence and\nwisdom, the resources of art and science; and will finally possess the\ngift of insight, or intuitive reason. Speculation will be his highest\nactivity, and the mark of his kinship with the gods who dwell in the\nperpetual contemplation of the truth.\n\n[Sidenote: The Religion of Fulfilment, and the Religion of\nRenunciation.]\n\nSect. 170. Aristotle's ethics expresses the buoyancy of the ancient\nworld, when the individual does not feel himself oppressed by the\neternal reality, but rejoices in it. He is not too conscious of his\nsufferings to be disinterested in his admiration and wonder. It is this\nwhich distinguishes the religion of Plato and Aristotle from that of the\nStoics and Spinoza. With both alike, religion consists not in making the\nworld, but in contemplating it; not in cooperating with God, but in\nworshipping him. Plato and Aristotle, however, do not find any\nantagonism between the ways of God and the natural interests of men.\nGod does not differ from men save in his exalted perfection. The\ncontemplation and worship of him comes as the final and highest stage of\na life which is organic and continuous throughout. The love of God is\nthe natural love when it has found its true object.\n\n \"For he who has been instructed thus far in the things of\n love, and who has learned to see the beautiful in due order\n and succession, when he comes toward the end will suddenly\n perceive a nature of wondrous beauty--and this, Socrates, is\n that final cause of all our former toils, which in the first\n place is everlasting--not growing and decaying, or waxing and\n waning; in the next place not fair in one point of view and\n foul in another, . . . or in the likeness of a face or hands\n or any other part of the bodily frame, or in any form of\n speech or knowledge, nor existing in any other being; . . .\n but beauty only, absolute, separate, simple, and everlasting,\n which without diminution and without increase, or any change,\n is imparted to the ever-growing and perishing beauties of all\n other things.\"[347:15]\n\nThe religion of Spinoza is the religion of one who has renounced the\nfavor of the universe. He was deprived early in life of every benefit of\nfortune, and set out to find the good which required no special\ndispensation but only the common lot and the common human endowment. He\nfound that good to consist in the conviction of the necessity, made\nacceptable through the supremacy of the understanding. The like faith of\nthe Stoics makes of no account the difference of fortune between Marcus\nthe emperor and Epictetus the slave.\n\n \"For two reasons, then, it is right to be content with that\n which happens to thee; the one because it was done for thee\n and prescribed for thee, and in a manner had reference to\n thee, originally from the most ancient causes spun with thy\n destiny; and the other because even that which comes severally\n to every man is to the power which administers the universe a\n cause of felicity and perfection, nay even of its very\n continuance. For the integrity of the whole is mutilated, if\n thou cuttest off anything whatever from the conjunction and\n the continuity either of the parts or of the causes. And thou\n dost cut off, as far as it is in thy power, when thou art\n dissatisfied, and in a manner triest to put anything out of\n the way.\"[348:16]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[306:1] By _Absolute Realism_ is meant that system of philosophy which\ndefines the universe as the _absolute being_, implied in knowledge as\nits final object, but assumed to be independent of knowledge. In the\n_Spinozistic_ system this absolute being is conceived under the form of\n_substance_, or self-sufficiency; in _Platonism_ under the form of\n_perfection_; and in the _Aristotelian_ system under the form of a\n_hierarchy of substances_.\n\n[308:2] Burnet: _Early Greek Philosophy_, p. 185.\n\n[309:3] When contrasted with the temporal realm of \"generation and\ndecay,\" this ultimate object is often called the _eternal_.\n\n[311:4] Holland, 1632-1677.\n\n[312:5] Spinoza: _Ethics_, Part I. Translation by Elwes, p. 45.\n\n[314:6] _Ibid._, p. 49.\n\n[318:7] _Ibid._, pp. 77, 81.\n\n[329:8] Plato: _Symposium_, 211. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[330:9] Plato: _Republic_, 533. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[337:10] See Burnet: _Op. cit._, pp. 322-333.\n\n[338:11] Leibniz: _Discourse on Metaphysics_. Translation by Montgomery,\np. 15.\n\nIn so far as the monads are spiritual this doctrine tends to be\nsubjectivistic. Cf. Chap. IX.\n\n[340:12] Leibniz: _New Essays on the Human Understanding_. Translation\nby Latta, p. 363.\n\n[344:13] Spinoza: _Op. cit._, Part IV. Translation by Elwes, p. 243.\n\n[345:14] Plato: _Op. cit._, 401.\n\n[347:15] Plato: _Symposium_, 210-211. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[348:16] Marcus Aurelius Antoninus: _Thoughts_. Translation by Long, p.\n141.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nABSOLUTE IDEALISM[349:1]\n\n\n[Sidenote: General Constructive Character of Absolute Idealism.]\n\nSect. 171. Absolute idealism is the most elaborately constructive of all\nthe historical types of philosophy. Though it may have overlooked\nelementary truths, and have sought to combine irreconcilable principles,\nit cannot be charged with lack of sophistication or subtlety. Its great\nvirtue is its recognition of problems--its exceeding circumspection;\nwhile its great promise is due to its comprehensiveness--its generous\nprovision for all interests and points of view. But its very breadth and\ncomplexity render this philosophy peculiarly liable to the equivocal use\nof conceptions. This may be readily understood from the nature of the\ncentral doctrine of absolute idealism. According to this doctrine it is\nproposed to define the universe as an _absolute spirit_; or a being\ninfinite, ultimate, eternal, and self-sufficient, like the being of\nPlato and Spinoza, but possessing at the same time the distinguishing\nproperties of spirit. Such conceptions as self-consciousness, will,\nknowledge, and moral goodness are carried over from the realm of human\nendeavor and social relations to the unitary and all-inclusive reality.\nNow it has been objected that this procedure is either meaningless, in\nthat it so applies the term spirit as to contradict its meaning; or\nprejudicial to spiritual interests, in that it neutralizes the\nproperties of spirit through so extending their use. Thus one may\ncontend that to affirm that the universe as a whole is spirit is\nmeaningless, since moral goodness requires special conditions and\nrelations that cannot be attributed to the universe as a whole; or one\nmay contend that such doctrine is prejudicial to moral interests because\nby attributing spiritual perfection to the totality of being it\ndiscredits all moral loyalties and antagonisms. The difficulties that\nlie in the way of absolute idealism are due, then, to the complexity of\nits synthesis, to its complementary recognition of differences and\nresolution of them into unity. But this synthesis is due to the urgency\nof certain great problems which the first or realistic expression of\nthe absolutist motive left undiscovered and unsolved.\n\n[Sidenote: The Great Outstanding Problems of Absolutism.]\n\nSect. 172. It is natural to approach so deliberate and calculating a\nphilosophy from the stand-point of the problems which it proposes to\nsolve. One of these is the epistemological problem of the relation\nbetween the state of knowledge and its object. Naturalism and absolute\nrealism side with common-sense in its assumption that although the real\nobject is essential to the valid state of knowledge, its being known is\nnot essential to the real object. Subjectivism, on the other hand,\nmaintains that being is essentially the content of a knowing state, or\nan activity of the knower himself. Absolute idealism proposes to accept\nthe general epistemological principle of subjectivism; but to satisfy\nthe realistic demand for a standard, compelling object, by setting up an\n_absolute knower_, with whom all valid knowledge must be in agreement.\nThis epistemological statement of absolute idealism is its most mature\nphase; and the culminating phase, in which it shows unmistakable signs\nof passing over into another doctrine. We must look for its pristine\ninspiration in its solution of another fundamental problem: that of the\nrelation between the absolute and the empirical. Like absolute realism,\nthis philosophy regards the universe as a unitary and internally\nnecessary being, and undertakes to hold that being accountable for every\nitem of experience. But we have found that absolute realism is beset\nwith the difficulty of thus accounting for the fragmentariness and\nisolation of the individual. The contention that the universe must\nreally be a rational or perfect unity is disputed by the evident\nmultiplicity, irrelevance, and imperfection in the foreground of\nexperience. The inference to perfection and the confession of\nimperfection seem equally unavoidable. Rational necessities and\nempirical facts are out of joint.\n\n[Sidenote: The Greek Philosophers and the Problem of Evil. The Task of\nthe New Absolutism.]\n\nSect. 173. Even Plato had been conscious of a certain responsibility for\nmatters of fact. Inasmuch as he attached the predicate of reality to the\nabsolute perfection, he made that being the only source to which they\ncould be referred. Perhaps, then, he suggests, they are due to the very\nbounteousness of God.\n\n \"He was good, and no goodness can ever have any jealousy of\n anything. And being free from jealousy, he desired that all\n things should be as like himself as possible.\"[352:2]\n\nPlotinus, in whom Platonism is leavened by the spirit of an age which\nis convinced of sin, and which is therefore more keenly aware of the\npositive existence of the imperfect, follows out this suggestion.\nCreation is \"emanation\"--the overflow of God's excess of goodness. But\none does not readily understand how goodness, desiring all things to be\nlike itself, should thereupon create evil--even to make it good. The\nAristotelian philosophy, with its conception of the gradation of\nsubstances, would seem to be better equipped to meet the difficulty. A\ndevelopment requires stages; and every finite thing may thus be perfect\nin its way and perfect in its place, while in the absolute truth or God\nthere is realized the meaning of the whole order. But if so, there is\nevidently something that escapes God, to wit, the meaningless and\nunfitness, the error and evil, of the stages in their successive\nisolation. Nor is it of any avail to insist (as did Plato, Aristotle,\nand Spinoza alike) that these are only privation, and therefore not to\nbe counted in the sum of reality. For privation is itself an experience,\nwith a great variety of implications, moral and psychological; and these\ncannot be attributed to God or deduced from him, in consideration of his\nabsolute perfection.\n\nThe task of the new absolutism is now in clear view. The perfect must\nbe amended to admit the imperfect. The absolute significance must be so\nconstrued as to provide for the evident facts; for the unmeaning things\nand changes of the natural order; for ignorance, sin, despair, and every\nhuman deficiency. The new philosophy is to solve this problem by\ndefining a _spiritual absolute_, and by so construing the life or\ndynamics of spirit, as to demonstrate the necessity of the very\nimperfection and opposition which is so baffling to the realist.\n\n[Sidenote: The Beginning of Absolute Idealism in Kant's Analysis of\nExperience.]\n\nSect. 174. Absolute idealism, which is essentially a modern doctrine,\ndoes not begin with rhapsodies, but with a very sober analysis of\nfamiliar truths, conducted by the most sober of all philosophers,\nImmanuel Kant. This philosopher lived in Konigsberg, Germany, at the\nclose of the eighteenth century. He is related to absolute idealism much\nas Socrates is related to Platonism: he was not himself speculative, but\nemployed a critical method which was transformed by his followers into a\nmetaphysical construction. It is essential to the understanding both of\nKant and of his more speculative successors, to observe that he begins\nwith the recognition of certain non-philosophical truths--those of\n_natural science_ and _the moral consciousness_. He accepts the order of\nnature formulated in the Newtonian dynamics, and the moral order\nacknowledged in the common human conviction of duty. And he is\ninterested in discovering the ground upon which these common\naffirmations rest, the structure which virtually supports them as types\nof knowledge. But a general importance attaches to the analysis because\nthese two types of knowledge (together with the aesthetic judgment,\nwhich is similarly analyzed) are regarded by Kant as coextensive with\nexperience itself. The _very least experience_ that can be reported upon\nat all is an experience of nature or duty, and as such will be informed\nwith their characteristic principles. Let us consider the former type.\nThe simplest instance of nature is the experience of the single\nperceived object. In the first place, such an object will be perceived\nas in space and time. These Kant calls the _forms of intuition_. An\nobject cannot even be presented or given without them. But, furthermore,\nit will be regarded as substance, that is, as having a substratum that\npersists through changes of position or quality. It will also be\nregarded as causally dependent upon other objects like itself.\nCausality, substance, and like principles to the number of twelve, Kant\ncalls the _categories of the understanding_. Both intuition and\nunderstanding are indispensable to the experience of any object\nwhatsoever. They may be said to condition the object in general. Their\nprinciples condition the process of making something out of the manifold\nof sensation. But similarly, every moral experience recognizes what Kant\ncalls _the categorical imperative_. The categorical imperative is the\nlaw of reasonableness or impartiality in conduct, requiring the\nindividual to act on a maxim which he can \"will to be law universal.\" No\nstate of desire or situation calling for action means anything morally\nexcept in the light of this obligation. Thus certain principles of\nthought and action are said to be implicit in all experience. They are\nuniversal and necessary in the sense that they are discovered as the\nconditions not of any particular experience, but of experience in\ngeneral. This implicit or virtual presence in experience in general,\nKant calls their transcendental character, and the process of\nexplicating them is his famous _Transcendental Deduction_.\n\n[Sidenote: Kant's Principles Restricted to the Experiences which they\nSet in Order.]\n\nSect. 175. The restriction which Kant puts upon his method is quite\nessential to its meaning. I deduce the categories, for example, just in\nso far as I find them to be necessary to perception. Without them my\nperception is blind, I make nothing of it; with them my experience\nbecomes systematic and rational. But categories which I so deduce must\nbe forever limited to the role for which they are defined. Categories\nwithout perceptions are \"empty\"; they have validity solely with\nreference to the experience which they set in order. Indeed, I cannot\neven complete that order. The orderly arrangement of parts of experience\nsuggests, and suggests irresistibly, a perfect system. I can even define\nthe ideas and ideals through which such a perfect system might be\nrealized. But I cannot in the Kantian sense attach reality to it because\nit is not indispensable to experience. It must remain an ideal which\nregulates my thinking of such parts of it as fall within the range of my\nperception; or it may through my moral nature become the realm of my\nliving and an object of faith. In short, Kant's is essentially a\n\"critical philosophy,\" a logical and analytical study of the special\nterms and relations of human knowledge. He denies the validity of these\nterms and relations beyond this realm. His critiques are an inventory\nof the conditions, principles, and prospects of that cognition which,\nalthough not alone ideally conceivable, is alone possible.\n\n[Sidenote: The Post-Kantian Metaphysics is a Generalization of the\nCognitive and Moral Consciousness as Analyzed by Kant. The Absolute\nSpirit.]\n\nSect. 176. With the successors of Kant, as with the successors of\nSocrates, a criticism becomes a system of metaphysics. This\ntransformation is effected in the post-Kantians by _a generalization of\nthe human cognitive consciousness_. According to Kant's analysis it\ncontains a manifold of sense which must be organized by categories in\nobedience to the ideal of a rational universe. The whole enterprise,\nwith its problems given in perception, its instruments available in the\nactivities of the understanding, and its ideals revealed in the reason,\nis an organic spiritual unity, manifesting itself in the\nself-consciousness of the thinker. Now in absolute idealism this very\nenterprise of knowledge, made universal and called the _absolute spirit_\nor _mind_, is taken to be the ultimate reality. And here at length would\nseem to be afforded the conception of a being to which the problematic\nand the rational, the data and the principles, the natural and the\nideal, are alike indispensable. We are now to seek the real not in the\nideal itself, but in that spiritual unity in which appearance is the\nincentive to truth, and natural imperfection the spring to goodness.\nThis may be translated into the language which Plato uses in the\n\"Symposium,\" when Diotima is revealing to Socrates the meaning of love.\nThe new reality will be not the loved one, but love itself.\n\n \"What then is Love? Is he mortal?\"\n\n \"No.\"\n\n \"What then?\"\n\n \"As in the former instance, he is neither mortal nor immortal,\n but is a mean between them.\"\n\n \"What is he then, Diotima?\"\n\n \"He is a great spirit, and like all that is spiritual he is\n intermediate between the divine and the mortal.\"[359:3]\n\nReality is no longer the God who mingles not with men, but that power\nwhich, as Diotima further says, \"interprets and conveys to the gods the\nprayers and sacrifices of men, and to men the commands and rewards of\nthe gods.\"\n\nIn speaking for such an idealism, Emerson says:\n\n \"Everything good is on the highway. The middle region of our\n being is the temperate zone. We may climb into the thin and\n cold realm of pure geometry and lifeless science, or sink into\n that of sensation. Between these extremes is the equator of\n life, of thought, of spirit, of poetry. . . . The mid-world is\n best.\"[359:4]\n\nThe new reality is this highway of the spirit, the very course and\nraceway of self-consciousness. It is traversed in the movement and\nself-correction of thought, in the interest in ideals, or in the\nsubmission of the will to the control of the moral law.\n\n[Sidenote: Fichteanism, or the Absolute Spirit as Moral Activity.]\n\nSect. 177. It is the last of these phases of self-consciousness that\nFichte, who was Kant's immediate successor, regards as of paramount\nimportance. As Platonism began with the ideal of the good or the object\nof life, so the new idealism begins with the conviction of duty, or _the\nstory of life_. Being is the living moral nature compelled to build\nitself a natural order wherein it may obey the moral law, and to divide\nitself into a community of moral selves through which the moral virtues\nmay be realized. Nature and society flow from the conception of an\nabsolute moral activity, or ego. Such an ego could not be pure and\nisolated and yet be moral. The evidence of this is the common moral\nconsciousness. My duty compels me to act upon the not-self or\nenvironment, and to respect and cooperate with other selves. Fichte's\nabsolute is this moral consciousness universalized and made eternal.\nMoral value being its fundamental principle the universe must on that\nvery account embrace both nature, or moral indifference, and humanity,\nor moral limitation.\n\n[Sidenote: Romanticism, or the Absolute Spirit as Sentiment.]\n\nSect. 178. But the Romanticists, who followed close upon Fichte, were\ndissatisfied with so hard and exclusive a conception of spiritual being.\nLife, they said, is not all duty. Indeed, the true spiritual life is\nquite other, not harsh and constrained, but free and spontaneous--a\nwealth of feeling playing about a constantly shifting centre. Spirit is\nnot consecutive and law-abiding, but capricious and wanton, seeking the\nbeautiful in no orderly progression, but in a refined and versatile\nsensibility. If this be the nature of spirit, and if spirit be the\nnature of reality, then he is most wise who is most rich in sentiment.\nThe Romanticists were the exponents of an absolute sentimentalism. And\nthey did not prove it, but like good sentimentalists they felt it.\n\n[Sidenote: Hegelianism, or the Absolute Spirit as Dialectic.]\n\nSect. 179. Hegel, the master of the new idealism, set himself the task\nof construing spirit in terms as consecutive as those of Fichte, and as\ncomprehensive as those of the Romanticists. Like Plato, he found in\ndialectic the supreme manifestation of the spiritual life. There is a\ncertain flow of ideas which determines the meaning of experience, and\nis the truth of truths. But the mark of the new prophet is this: the\nflow of ideas itself is _a process of self-correction due to a sense of\nerror_. Thus bare sensation is abstract and bare thought is abstract.\nThe real, however, is not merely the concrete in which they are united,\nbut the very process in the course of which through knowledge of\nabstraction thought arrives at the concrete. The principle of negation\nis the very life of thought, and it is _the life of thought_, rather\nthan the outcome of thought, which is reality. The most general form of\nthe dialectical process contains three moments: the moment of _thesis_,\nin which affirmation is made; the moment of _antithesis_, in which the\nopposite asserts itself; and the moment of _synthesis_, in which a\nreconciliation is effected in a new thesis. Thus thought is the\nprogressive overcoming of contradiction; not the state of freedom from\ncontradiction, but the act of escaping it. Such processes are more\nfamiliar in the moral life. Morality consists, so even common-sense\nasserts, in the overcoming of evil. Character is the resistance of\ntemptation; goodness, a growth in grace through discipline. Of such, for\nHegel, is the very kingdom of heaven. It is the task of the philosopher,\na task to which Hegel applies himself most assiduously, to analyze the\nbattle and the victory upon which spiritual being nourishes itself. And\nsince the deeper processes are those of thought, the Hegelian philosophy\ncentres in an ordering of notions, a demonstration of that necessary\nprogression of thought which, in its whole dynamical logical history,\nconstitutes the _absolute idea_.\n\n[Sidenote: The Hegelian Philosophy of Nature and History.]\n\nSect. 180. The Hegelian philosophy, with its emphasis upon difference,\nantagonism, and development, is peculiarly qualified to be a philosophy\nof nature and history. Those principles of spiritual development which\nlogic defines are conceived as incarnate in the evolution of the world.\nNature, as the very antithesis to spirit, is now understood to be the\nfoil of spirit. In nature spirit alienates itself in order to return\nenriched. The stages of nature are the preparation for the reviving of a\nspirituality that has been deliberately forfeited. The Romanticists,\nwhether philosophers like Schelling or poets like Goethe and Wordsworth,\nwere led by their feeling for the beauty of nature to attribute to it a\nmuch deeper and more direct spiritual significance. But Hegel and the\nRomanticists alike are truly expressed in Emerson's belief that the\nspiritual interpretation of nature is the \"true science.\"\n\n \"The poet alone knows astronomy, chemistry, vegetation, and\n animation, for he does not stop at these facts, but employs\n them as signs. He knows why the plain or meadow of space was\n strown with these flowers we call suns and moons and stars;\n why the great deep is adorned with animals, with men, and\n gods; for in every word he speaks he rides on them as the\n horses of thought.\"[364:5]\n\nThe new awakening of spirit which is for Hegel the consummation of the\nnatural evolution, begins with the individual or _subjective_ spirit,\nand develops into the social or _objective_ spirit, which is morality\nand history. History is a veritable dialectic of nations, in the course\nof which the consciousness of individual liberty is developed, and\ncoordinated with the unity of the state. The highest stage of spirit\nincarnate is that of _absolute_ spirit, embracing art, religion, and\nphilosophy. In art the absolute idea obtains expression in sensuous\nexistence, more perfectly in classical than in the symbolic art of the\nOrient, but most perfectly in the romantic art of the modern period. In\nreligion the absolute idea is expressed in the imagination through\nworship. In Oriental pantheism, the individual is overwhelmed by his\nsense of the universal; in Greek religion, God is but a higher man;\nwhile in Christianity God and man are perfectly united in Christ.\nFinally, in philosophy the absolute idea reaches its highest possible\nexpression in articulate thought.\n\n[Sidenote: Resume. Failure of Absolute Idealism to Solve the Problem of\nEvil.]\n\nSect. 181. Such is absolute idealism approached from the stand-point of\nantecedent metaphysics. It is the most elaborate and subtle provision\nfor antagonistic differences within unity that the speculative mind of\nman has as yet been able to make. It is the last and most thorough\nattempt to resolve individual and universal, temporal and eternal,\nnatural and ideal, good and evil, into an absolute unity in which the\nuniversal, eternal, ideal, and good shall dominate, and in which all\nterms shall be related with such necessity as obtains in the definitions\nand theorems of geometry. There is to be some absolute meaning which is\nrational to the uttermost and the necessary ground of all the incidents\nof existence. Thought could undertake no more ambitious and exacting\ntask. Nor is it evident after all that absolute idealism enjoys any\nbetter success in this task than absolute realism. The difference\nbetween them becomes much less marked when we reflect that the former,\nlike the latter, must reserve the predicate of being for the unity of\nthe whole. Even though evil and contradiction belong to the essence of\nthings, move in the secret heart of a spiritual universe, the reality is\nnot these in their severalty, but that life within which they fall, the\nstory within which they \"earn a place.\" And if absolute idealism has\ndefined a new perfection, it has at the same time defined a new\nimperfection. The perfection is rich in contrast, and thus inclusive of\nboth the lights and shades of experience; but the perfection belongs\nonly to the composition of these elements within a single view. It is\nnot necessary to such perfection that the evil should ever be viewed in\nisolation. The idealist employs the analogy of the drama or the picture\nwhose very significance requires the balance of opposing forces; or the\nanalogy of the symphony in which a higher musical quality is realized\nthrough the resolution of discord into harmony. But none of these\nunities requires any element whatsoever that does not partake of its\nbeauty. It is quite irrelevant to the drama that the hero should\nhimself have his own view of events with no understanding of their\ndramatic value, as it is irrelevant to the picture that an unbalanced\nfragment of it should dwell apart, or to the symphony that the discord\nshould be heard without the harmony. One may multiply without end the\ninternal differences and antagonisms that contribute to the internal\nmeaning, and be as far as ever from understanding the external\ndetachment of experiences that are not rational or good in themselves.\nAnd it is precisely this kind of fact that precipitates the whole\nproblem. We do not judge of sin and error from experiences in which they\nconduct to goodness and truth, but from experiences in which they are\nstark and unresolved.\n\nIn view of such considerations many idealists have been willing to\nconfess their inability to solve this problem. To quote a recent\nexpositor of Hegel,\n\n \"We need not, after all, be surprised at the apparently\n insoluble problem which confronts us. For the question has\n developed into the old difficulty of the origin of evil, which\n has always baffled both theologians and philosophers. An\n idealism which declares that the universe is in reality\n perfect, can find, as most forms of popular idealism do, an\n escape from the difficulties of the existence of evil, by\n declaring that the universe is as yet only growing towards its\n ideal perfection. But this refuge disappears with the reality\n of time, and we are left with an awkward difference between\n what philosophy tells us must be, and what our life tells us\n actually is.\"[368:6]\n\nIf the philosophy of eternal perfection persists in its fundamental\ndoctrine in spite of this irreconcilable conflict with life, it is\nbecause it is believed that that doctrine _must_ be true. Let us turn,\nthen, to its more constructive and compelling argument.\n\n[Sidenote: The Constructive Argument for Absolute Idealism is Based upon\nthe Subjectivistic Theory of Knowledge.]\n\nSect. 182. The proof of absolute idealism is supposed by the majority of\nits exponents to follow from the problem of epistemology, and more\nparticularly from the manifest dependence of truth upon the knowing\nmind. In its initial phase absolute idealism is indistinguishable from\nsubjectivism. Like that philosophy it finds that the object of knowledge\nis inseparable from the state of knowledge throughout the whole range of\nexperience. Since the knower can never escape himself, it may be set\ndown as an elementary fact that reality (at any rate whatever reality\ncan be known or even talked about) owes its being to mind.\n\nThus Green, the English neo-Hegelian, maintains that \"an object which\nno consciousness presented to itself would not be an object at all,\" and\nwonders that this principle is not generally taken for granted and made\nthe starting-point for philosophy.[369:7] However, unless the very term\n\"object\" is intended to imply presence to a subject, this principle is\nby no means self-evident, and must be traced to its sources.\n\nWe have already followed the fortunes of that empirical subjectivism\nwhich issues from the relativity of perception. At the very dawn of\nphilosophy it was observed that what is seen, heard, or otherwise\nexperienced through the senses, depends not only upon the use of\nsense-organs, but upon the special point of view occupied by each\nindividual sentient being. It was therefore concluded that the\nperceptual world belonged to the human knower with his limitations and\nperspective, rather than to being itself. It was this epistemological\nprinciple upon which Berkeley founded his empirical idealism. Believing\nknowledge to consist essentially in perception, and believing perception\nto be subjective, he had to choose between the relegation of being to a\nregion inaccessible to knowledge, and the definition of being in terms\nof subjectivity. To avoid scepticism he accepted the latter alternative.\nBut among the Greeks with whom this theory of perception originated, it\ndrew its meaning in large part from the distinction between perception\nand reason. Thus we read in Plato's \"Sophist\":\n\n \"And you would allow that we participate in generation with\n the body, and by perception; but we participate with the soul\n by thought in true essence, and essence you would affirm to be\n always the same and immutable, whereas generation\n varies.\"[370:8]\n\nIt is conceived that although in perception man is condemned to a\nknowledge conditioned by the affections and station of his body, he may\nnevertheless escape himself and lay hold on the \"true essence\" of\nthings, by virtue of thought. In other words, knowledge, in\ncontradistinction to \"opinion,\" is not made by the subject, but is the\nsoul's participation in the eternal natures of things. In the moment of\ninsight the varying course of the individual thinker coincides with the\nunvarying truth; but in that moment the individual thinker is ennobled\nthrough being assimilated to the truth, while the truth is no more, no\nless, the truth than before.\n\n[Sidenote: The Principle of Subjectivism Extended to Reason.]\n\nSect. 183. In absolute idealism, the principle of subjectivism is\nextended to reason itself. This extension seems to have been originally\ndue to moral and religious interests. From the moral stand-point the\ncontemplation of the truth is a _state_, and the highest state of the\nindividual life. The religious interest unifies the individual life and\ndirects attention to its spiritual development. Among the Greeks of the\nmiddle period life was as yet viewed objectively as the fulfilment of\ncapacities, and knowledge was regarded as perfection of function, the\nexercise of the highest of human prerogatives. But as moral and\nreligious interests became more absorbing, the individual lived more and\nmore in his own self-consciousness. Even before the Christian era the\nGreek philosophers themselves were preoccupied with the task of winning\na state of inner serenity. Thus the Stoics and Epicureans came to look\nupon knowledge as a means to the attainment of an inner freedom from\ndistress and bondage to the world. In other words, the very reason was\nregarded as an activity of the self, and its fruits were valued for\ntheir enhancement of the welfare of the self. And if this be true of the\nStoics and the Epicureans, it is still more clearly true of the\nneo-Platonists of the Christian era, who mediate between the ancient\nand mediaeval worlds.\n\n[Sidenote: Emphasis on Self-consciousness in Early Christian\nPhilosophy.]\n\nSect. 184. It is well known that the early period of Christianity was a\nperiod of the most vivid self-consciousness. The individual believed\nthat his natural and social environment was alien to his deeper\nspiritual interests. He therefore withdrew into himself. He believed\nhimself to have but one duty, the salvation of his soul; and that duty\nrequired him to search his innermost springs of action in order to\nuproot any that might compromise him with the world and turn him from\nGod. The drama of life was enacted within the circle of his own\nself-consciousness. Citizenship, bodily health, all forms of\nappreciation and knowledge, were identified in the parts they played\nhere. In short the Christian consciousness, although renunciation was\nits deepest motive, was reflexive and centripetal to a degree hitherto\nunknown among the European peoples. And when with St. Augustine\ntheoretical interests once more vigorously asserted themselves, this new\nemphasis was in the very foreground. St. Augustine wished to begin his\nsystem of thought with a first indubitable certainty, and selected\nneither being nor ideas, but _self_. St. Augustine's genius was\nprimarily religious, and the \"Confessions,\" in which he records the\nstory of his hard winning of peace and right relations with God, is his\nmost intimate book. How faithfully does he represent himself, and the\nblend of paganism and Christianity which was distinctive of his age,\nwhen in his systematic writings he draws upon religion for his knowledge\nof truth! In all my living, he argues, whether I sin or turn to God,\nwhether I doubt or believe, whether I know or am ignorant, in all _I\nknow that I am I_. Each and every state of my consciousness is a state\nof my self, and as such, sure evidence of my self's existence. If one\nwere to follow St. Augustine's reflections further, one would find him\nreasoning from his own finite and evil self to an infinite and perfect\nSelf, which centres like his in the conviction that I am I, but is\nendowed with all power and all worth. One would find him reflecting upon\nthe possible union with God through the exaltation of the human\nself-consciousness. But this conception of God as the perfect self is so\nmuch a prophecy of things to come, that more than a dozen centuries\nelapsed before it was explicitly formulated by the post-Kantians. We\nmust follow its more gradual development in the philosophies of\nDescartes and Kant.\n\n[Sidenote: Descartes's Argument for the Independence of the Thinking\nSelf.]\n\nSect. 185. When at the close of the sixteenth century the Frenchman,\nRene Descartes, sought to construct philosophy anew and upon secure\nfoundations, he too selected as the initial certainty of thought the\nthinker's knowledge of himself. This principle now received its classic\nformulation in the proposition, _Cogito ergo sum_--\"I think, hence I\nam.\" The argument does not differ essentially from that of St.\nAugustine, but it now finds a place in a systematic and critical\nmetaphysics. In that my thinking is certain of itself, says Descartes,\nin that I know myself before I know aught else, my self can never be\ndependent for its being upon anything else that I may come to know. A\nthinking self, with its knowledge and its volition, is quite capable of\nsubsisting of itself. Such is, indeed, not the case with a finite self,\nfor all finitude is significant of limitation, and in recognizing my\nlimitations I postulate the infinite being or God. But the relation of\nmy self to a physical world is quite without necessity. Human nature,\nwith soul and body conjoined, is a combination of two substances,\nneither of which is a necessary consequence of the other. As a result\nof this combination the soul is to some extent affected by the body, and\nthe body is to some extent directed by the soul; but the body could\nconceivably be an automaton, as the soul could conceivably be, and will\nin another life become, a free spirit. The consequences of this dualism\nfor epistemology are very grave. If knowledge be the activity of a\nself-subsistent thinking spirit, how can it reveal the nature of an\nexternal world? The natural order is now literally \"external.\" It is\ntrue that the whole body of exact science, that mechanical system to\nwhich Descartes attached so much importance, falls within the range of\nthe soul's own thinking. But what assurance is there that it refers to a\nprovince of its own--a physical world in space? Descartes can only\nsuppose that \"clear and distinct\" ideas must be trusted as faithful\nrepresentations. It is true the external world makes its presence known\ndirectly, when it breaks in upon the soul in sense-perception. But\nDescartes's rationalism and love of mathematics forbade his attaching\nimportance to this criterion. Real nature, that exactly definable and\npredictable order of moving bodies defined in physics, is not known\nthrough sense-perception, but through thought. Its necessities are the\nnecessities of reason. Descartes finds himself, then, in the perplexing\nposition of seeking an internal criterion for an external world. The\nproblem of knowledge so stated sets going the whole epistemological\nmovement of the eighteenth century, from Locke through Berkeley and Hume\nto Kant. And the issue of this development is the absolute idealism of\nKant's successors.\n\n[Sidenote: Empirical Reaction of the English Philosophers.]\n\nSect. 186. Of the English philosophers who prepare the way for the\nepistemology of Kant, Hume is the most radical and momentous. It was he\nwho roused Kant from his \"dogmatic slumbers\" to the task of the\n\"Critical Philosophy.\" Hume is one of the two possible consequences of\nDescartes. One who attaches greater importance to the rational\nnecessities of science than to its external reference, is not unwilling\nthat nature should be swallowed up in mind. With Malebranche,\nDescartes's immediate successor in France, nature is thus provided for\nwithin the archetypal mind of God. With the English philosophers, on the\nother hand, externality is made the very mark of nature, and as a\nconsequence sense-perception becomes the criterion of scientific truth.\nThis empirical theory of knowledge, inaugurated and developed by Locke\nand Berkeley, culminates in Hume's designation of the _impression_ as\nthe distinguishing element of nature, at once making up its content and\ncertifying to its externality. The processes of nature are successions\nof impressions; and the laws of nature are their uniformities, or the\nexpectations of uniformity which their repetitions engender. Hume does\nnot hesitate to draw the logical conclusion. If the final mark of truth\nis the presence to sense of the individual element, then science can\nconsist only of items of information and probable generalizations\nconcerning their sequences. The effect is observed to follow upon the\ncause in fact, but there is no understanding of its necessity; therefore\nno absolute certainty attaches to the future effects of any cause.\n\n[Sidenote: To Save Exact Science Kant Makes it Dependent on Mind.]\n\nSect. 187. But what has become of the dream of the mathematical\nphysicist? Is the whole system of Newton, that brilliant triumph of the\nmechanical method, unfounded and dogmatic? It is the logical instability\nof this body of knowledge, made manifest in the well-founded scepticism\nof Hume, that rouses Kant to a re-examination of the whole foundation of\nnatural science. The general outline of his analysis has been developed\nabove. It is of importance here to understand its relations to the\nproblem of Descartes. Contrary to the view of the English philosophers,\nnatural science is, says Kant, the work of the mind. The certainty of\nthe causal relation is due to the human inability to think otherwise.\nHume is mistaken in supposing that mere sensation gives us any knowledge\nof nature. The very least experience of objects involves the employment\nof principles which are furnished by the mind. Without the employment of\nsuch principles, or in bare sensation, there is no intelligible meaning\nwhatsoever. But once admit the employment of such principles and\nformulate them systematically, and the whole Newtonian order of nature\nis seen to follow from them. Furthermore, since these principles or\ncategories are the conditions of human experience, are the very\ninstruments of knowledge, they are valid wherever there is any\nexperience or knowledge. There is but one way to make anything at all\nout of nature, and that is to conceive it as an order of necessary\nevents in space and time. Newtonian science is part of such a general\nconception, and is therefore necessary if knowledge is to be possible at\nall, even the least. Thus Kant turns upon Hume, and shuts him up to the\nchoice between the utter abnegation of all knowledge, including the\nknowledge of his own scepticism, and the acceptance of the whole body of\nexact science.\n\nBut with nature thus conditioned by the necessities of thought, what has\nbecome of its externality? That, Kant admits, has indeed vanished. Kant\ndoes not attempt, as did Descartes, to hold that the nature which mind\nconstructs and controls, exists also outside of mind. The nature that is\nknown is on that very account phenomenal, anthropocentric--created by\nits cognitive conditions. Descartes was right in maintaining that\nsense-perception certifies to the existence of a world outside the mind,\nbut mistaken in calling it nature and identifying it with the realm of\nscience. In short, Kant acknowledges the external world, and names it\nthe _thing-in-itself_; but insists that because it is outside of mind it\nis outside of knowledge. Thus is the certainty of science saved at the\ncost of its metaphysical validity. It is necessarily true, but only of a\nconditioned or dependent world. And in saving science Kant has at the\nsame time prejudiced metaphysics in general. For the human or\nnaturalistic way of knowing is left in sole possession of the field,\nwith the higher interest of reasons in the ultimate nature of being,\ndegraded to the rank of practical faith.\n\n[Sidenote: The Post-Kantians Transform Kant's Mind-in-general into an\nAbsolute Mind.]\n\nSect. 188. The transformation of this critical and agnostic doctrine\ninto absolute idealism is inevitable. The metaphysical interest was\nbound to avail itself of the speculative suggestiveness with which the\nKantian philosophy abounds. The transformation turns upon Kant's\nassumption that whatever is constructed by the mind is on that account\nphenomenon or appearance. Kant has carried along the presumption that\nwhatever is act or content of mind is on that account not _real_ object\nor _thing-in-itself_. We have seen that this is generally accepted as\ntrue of the relativities of sense-perception. But is it true of thought?\nThe post-Kantian idealist maintains that _that depends upon the\nthought_. The content of private individual thinking is in so far not\nreal object; but it does not follow that this is true of such thinking\nas is universally valid. Now Kant has deduced his categories for thought\nin general. There are no empirical cases of thinking except the human\nthinkers; but the categories are not the property of any one human\nindividual or any group of such individuals. They are the conditions of\n_experience in general_, and of every possibility of experience. The\ntransition to absolute idealism is now readily made. _Thought in\ngeneral_ becomes the _absolute mind_, and experience in general its\ncontent. The thing-in-itself drops out as having no meaning. The\nobjectivity to which it testified is provided for in the completeness\nand self-sufficiency which is attributed to the absolute experience.\nIndeed, an altogether new definition of subjective and objective\nreplaces the old. The subjective is that which is only insufficiently\nthought, as in the case of relativity and error; the objective is that\nwhich is completely thought. Thus the natural order is indeed\nphenomenal; but only because the principles of science are not the\nhighest principles of thought, and not because nature is the fruit of\nthought. Thus Hegel expresses his relation to Kant as follows:\n\n \"According to Kant, the things that we know about are _to us_\n appearances only, and we can never know their essential\n nature, which belongs to another world, which we cannot\n approach. . . . The true statement of the case is as follows.\n The things of which we have direct consciousness are mere\n phenomena, not for us only, but in their own nature; and the\n true and proper case of these things, finite as they are, is\n to have their existence founded not in themselves, but in the\n universal divine idea. This view of things, it is true, is as\n idealist as Kant's, but in contradistinction to the\n subjective idealism of the Critical Philosophy should be\n termed Absolute Idealism.\"[382:9]\n\n[Sidenote: The Direct Argument. The Inference from the Finite Mind to\nthe Infinite Mind.]\n\nSect. 189. Absolute idealism is thus reached after a long and devious\ncourse of development. But the argument may be stated much more briefly.\nPlato, it will be remembered, found that experience tends ever to\ntranscend itself. The thinker finds himself compelled to pursue the\nideal of immutable and universal truth, and must identify the ultimate\nbeing with that ideal. Similarly Hegel says:\n\n \"That upward spring of the mind signifies that the being which\n the world has is only a semblance, no real being, no absolute\n truth; it signifies that beyond and above that appearance,\n truth abides in God, so that true being is another name for\n God.\"[382:10]\n\nThe further argument of absolute idealism differs from that of Plato in\nthat the dependence of truth upon the mind is accepted as a first\nprinciple. The ideal with which experience is informed is now _the state\nof perfect knowledge_, rather than the system of absolute truth. The\ncontent of the state of perfect knowledge will indeed be the system of\nabsolute truth, but none the less _content_, precisely as finite\nknowledge is the content of a finite mind. In pursuing the truth, I who\npursue, aim to realize in myself a certain highest state of knowledge.\nWere I to know all truth I should indeed have ceased to be the finite\nindividual who began the quest, but the evolution would be continuous\nand the character of self-consciousness would never have been lost. I\nmay say, in short, that God or being, is my perfect cognitive self.\n\nThe argument for absolute idealism is a constructive interpretation of\nthe subjectivistic contention that knowledge can never escape the circle\nof its own activity and states. To meet the demand for a final and\nstandard truth, a demand which realism meets with its doctrine of a\nbeing independent of any mind, this philosophy defines a _standard\nmind_. The impossibility of defining objects in terms of relativity to a\nfinite self, conducts dialectically to the conception of the _absolute\nself_. The sequel to my error or exclusiveness, is truth or\ninclusiveness. The outcome of the dialectic is determined by the\nsymmetry of the antithesis. Thus, corrected experience implies a last\ncorrecting experience; partial cognition, complete cognition; empirical\nsubject, transcendental subject; finite mind, an absolute mind. The\nfollowing statement is taken from a contemporary exponent of the\nphilosophy:\n\n \"What you and I lack, when we lament our human ignorance, is\n simply a certain desirable and logically possible state of\n mind, or type of experience; to wit, a state of mind in which\n we should wisely be able to say that we had fulfilled in\n experience what we now have merely in idea, namely, the\n knowledge, the immediate and felt presence, of what we now\n call the Absolute Reality. . . . There is an Absolute\n Experience for which the conception of an absolute reality,\n _i. e._, the conception of a system of ideal truth, is\n fulfilled by the very contents that get presented to this\n experience. This Absolute Experience is related to our\n experience as an organic whole to its own fragments. It is an\n experience which finds fulfilled all that the completest\n thought can conceive as genuinely possible. Herein lies its\n definition as an Absolute. For the Absolute Experience, as for\n ours, there are data, contents, facts. But these data, these\n contents, express, for the Absolute Experience, its own\n meaning, its thought, its ideas. Contents beyond these that it\n possesses, the Absolute Experience knows to be, in genuine\n truth, impossible. Hence its contents are indeed\n particular,--a selection from the world of bare or merely\n conceptual possibilities,--but they form a self-determined\n whole, than which nothing completer, more organic, more\n fulfilled, more transparent, or more complete in meaning, is\n concretely or genuinely possible. On the other hand, these\n contents are not foreign to those of our finite experience,\n but are inclusive of them in the unity of one life.\"[385:11]\n\n[Sidenote: The Realistic Tendency in Absolute Idealism.]\n\nSect. 190. As has been already intimated, at the opening of this\nchapter, the inclusion of the whole of reality within a single self is\nclearly a questionable proceeding. The need of avoiding the relativism\nof empirical idealism is evident. But if the very meaning of the\nself-consciousness be due to a certain selection and exclusion within\nthe general field of experience, it is equally evident that the\nrelativity of self-consciousness can never be overcome through appealing\nto a higher self. One must appeal _from_ the self to the realm of things\nas they are. Indeed, although the exponents of this philosophy use the\nlanguage of spiritualism, and accept the idealistic epistemology, their\nabsolute being tends ever to escape the special characters of the self.\nAnd inasmuch as the absolute self is commonly set over against the\nfinite or empirical self, as the standard and test of truth, it is the\nless distinguishable from the realist's order of independent beings.\n\n[Sidenote: The Conception of Self-consciousness Central in the Ethics of\nAbsolute Idealism. Kant.]\n\nSect. 191. But however much absolute idealism may tend to abandon its\nidealism for the sake of its absolutism within the field of metaphysics,\nsuch is not the case within the field of ethics and religion. The\nconception of the self here receives a new emphasis. The same\nself-consciousness which admits to the highest truth is the evidence of\nman's practical dignity. In virtue of his immediate apprehension of the\nprinciples of selfhood, and his direct participation in the life of\nspirit, man may be said to possess the innermost secret of the universe.\nIn order to achieve goodness he must therefore recognize and express\n_himself_. The Kantian philosophy is here again the starting-point. It\nwas Kant who first gave adequate expression to the Christian idea of the\nmoral self-consciousness.\n\n \"_Duty!_ Thou sublime and mighty name that dost embrace\n nothing charming or insinuating, but requirest submission, and\n yet seekest not to move the will by threatening aught that\n would arouse natural aversion or terror, but merely holdest\n forth a law which of itself finds entrance into the mind,\n . . . a law before which all inclinations are dumb, even\n though they secretly counterwork it; what origin is there\n worthy of thee, and where is to be found the root of thy noble\n descent which proudly rejects all kindred with the\n inclinations . . . ? It can be nothing less than a power which\n elevates man above himself, . . . a power which connects him\n with an order of things that only the understanding can\n conceive, with a world which at the same time commands the\n whole sensible world, and with it the empirically determinable\n existence of man in time, as well as the sum total of all\n ends.\"[387:12]\n\nWith Kant there can be no morality except conduct be attended by the\nconsciousness of this duty imposed by the higher nature upon the lower.\nIt is this very recognition of a deeper self, of a personality that\nbelongs to the sources and not to the consequences of nature, that\nconstitutes man as a moral being, and only such action as is inspired\nwith a reverence for it can be morally good. Kant does little more than\nto establish the uncompromising dignity of the moral will. In moral\naction man submits to a law that issues from himself in virtue of his\nrational nature. Here he yields nothing, as he owes nothing, to that\nappetency which binds him to the natural world. As a rational being he\nhimself affirms the very principles which determine the organization of\nnature. This is his _freedom_, at once the ground and the implication\nof his duty. Man is free from nature to serve the higher law of his\npersonality.\n\n[Sidenote: Kantian Ethics Supplemented through the Conceptions of\nUniversal and Objective Spirit.]\n\nSect. 192. There are two respects in which Kant's ethics has been\nregarded as inadequate by those who draw from it their fundamental\nprinciples. It is said that Kant is too rigoristic, that he makes too\nstern a business of morality, in speaking so much of law and so little\nof love and spontaneity. There are good reasons for this. Kant seeks to\nisolate the moral consciousness, and dwell upon it in its purity, in\norder that he may demonstrate its incommensurability with the values of\ninclination and sensibility. Furthermore, Kant may speak of the\nprinciple of the absolute, and recognize the deeper eternal order as a\nlaw, but he may not, if he is to be consistent with his own critical\nprinciples, affirm the metaphysical being of such an order. With his\nidealistic followers it is possible to define the spiritual setting of\nthe moral life, but with Kant it is only possible to define the\nantagonism of principles. Hence the greater optimism of the\npost-Kantians. They know that the higher law is the reality, and that he\nwho obeys it thus unites himself with the absolute self. That which for\nKant is only a resolute obedience to more valid principles, to\nrationally superior rules for action, is for idealism man's\nappropriation of his spiritual birthright. Since the law is the deeper\nnature, man may respect and obey it as valid, and at the same time act\nupon it gladly in the sure knowledge that it will enhance his eternal\nwelfare. Indeed, the knowledge that the very universe is founded upon\nthis law will make him less suspicious of nature and less exclusive in\nhis adherence to any single law. He will be more confident of the\nessential goodness of all manifestations of a universe which he knows to\nbe fundamentally spiritual.\n\nBut it has been urged, secondly, that the Kantian ethics is too formal,\ntoo little pertinent to the issues of life. Kant's moral law imposes\nonly obedience to the law, or conduct conceived as suitable to a\nuniversal moral community. But what is the nature of such conduct in\nparticular? It may be answered that to maintain the moral\nself-consciousness, to act dutifully and dutifully only, to be\nself-reliant and unswerving in the doing of what one ought to do, is to\nobtain a very specific character. But does this not leave the\nindividual's conduct to his own interpretation of his duty? It was just\nthis element of individualism which Hegel sought to eliminate through\nthe application of his larger philosophical conception. If that which\nexpresses itself within the individual consciousness as the moral law be\nindeed the law of that self in which the universe is grounded, it will\nappear as _objective spirit_ in the evolution of society. For Hegel,\nthen, the most valid standard of goodness is to be found in that\ncustomary morality which bespeaks the moral leadings of the general\nhumanity, and in those institutions, such as the family and the state,\nwhich are the moral acts of the absolute idea itself. Finally, in the\nrealm of _absolute spirit_, in art, in revealed religion, and in\nphilosophy, the individual may approach to the self-consciousness which\nis the perfect truth and goodness in and for itself.\n\n[Sidenote: The Peculiar Pantheism and Mysticism of Absolute Idealism.]\n\nSect. 193. Where the law of life is the implication in the finite\nself-consciousness of the eternal and divine self-consciousness, there\ncan be no division between morality and religion, as there can be none\nbetween thought and will. Whatever man seeks is in the end God. As the\nperfect fulfilment of the thinking self, God is the truth; as the\nperfect fulfilment of the willing self, God is the good. The finite\nself-consciousness finds facts that are not understood, and so seeks to\nresolve itself into the perfect self wherein all that is given has\nmeaning. On the other hand, the finite self-consciousness finds ideals\nthat are not realized, and so seeks to resolve itself into that perfect\nself wherein all that is significant is given. All interests thus\nconverge toward\n\n \"some state of conscious spirit in which the opposition of\n cognition and volition is overcome--in which we neither judge\n our ideas by the world, nor the world by our ideas, but are\n aware that inner and outer are in such close and necessary\n harmony that even the thought of possible discord has become\n impossible. In its unity not only cognition and volition, but\n feeling also, must be blended and united. In some way or\n another it must have overcome the rift in discursive\n knowledge, and the immediate must for it be no longer the\n alien. It must be as direct as art, as certain and universal\n as philosophy.\"[391:13]\n\nThe religious consciousness proper to absolute idealism is both\npantheistic and mystical, but with distinction. Platonism is pantheistic\nin that nature is resolved into God. All that is not perfect is esteemed\nonly for its promise of perfection. And Platonism is mystical in that\nthe purification and universalization of the affections brings one in\nthe end to a perfection that exceeds all modes of thought and speech.\nWith Spinoza, on the other hand, God may be said to be resolved into\nnature. Nature is made divine, but is none the less nature, for its\ndivinity consists in its absolute necessity. Spinoza's pantheism passes\nover into mysticism because the absolute necessity exceeds in both unity\nand richness the laws known to the human understanding. In absolute\nidealism, finally, both God and nature are resolved into the self. For\nthat which is divine in experience is self-consciousness, and this is at\nthe same time the ground of nature. Thus in the highest knowledge the\nself is expanded and enriched without being left behind. The mystical\nexperience proper to this philosophy is the consciousness of identity,\ntogether with the sense of universal immanence. The individual self may\nbe directly sensible of the absolute self, for these are one spiritual\nlife. Thus Emerson says:\n\n \"It is a secret which every intellectual man quickly learns,\n that beyond the energy of his possessed and conscious\n intellect he is capable of a new energy (as of an intellect\n doubled on itself), by abandonment to the nature of things;\n that beside his privacy of power as an individual man, there\n is a great public power upon which he can draw, by unlocking,\n at all risks, his human doors, and suffering the ethereal\n tides to roll and circulate through him; then he is caught up\n into the life of the Universe, his speech is thunder, his\n thought is law, and his words are universally intelligible as\n the plants and animals. The poet knows that he speaks\n adequately then only when he speaks somewhat wildly, or 'with\n the flower of the mind'; not with the intellect used as an\n organ, but with the intellect released from all service and\n suffered to take its direction from its celestial\n life.\"[393:14]\n\n[Sidenote: The Religion of Exuberant Spirituality.]\n\nSect. 194. But the distinguishing flavor and quality of this religion\narises from its spiritual hospitality. It is not, like Platonism, a\ncontemplation of the best; nor, like pluralistic idealisms, a moral\nknight-errantry. It is neither a religion of exclusion, nor a religion\nof reconstruction, but a profound willingness that things should be as\nthey really are. For this reason its devotees have recognized in Spinoza\ntheir true forerunner. But idealism is not Spinozism, though it may\ncontain this as one of its strains. For it is not the worship of\nnecessity, Emerson's \"beautiful necessity, which makes man brave in\nbelieving that he cannot shun a danger that is appointed, nor incur one\nthat is not\"; but the worship of _that which is_ necessary.\n\nNot only must one understand that every effort, however despairing, is\nan element of sense in the universal significance;\n\n \"that the whole would not be what it is were not precisely\n this finite purpose left in its own uniqueness to speak\n precisely its own word--a word which no other purpose can\n speak in the language of the divine will\";[394:15]\n\nbut one must have a zest for such participation, and a heart for the\ndivine will which it profits. Indeed, so much is this religion a love of\nlife, that it may, as in the case of the Romanticists, be a love of\ncaprice. Battle and death, pain and joy, error and truth--all that\nbelongs to the story of this mortal world, are to be felt as the thrill\nof health, and relished as the essences of God. Religion is an exuberant\nspirituality, a fearless sensibility, a knowledge of both good and evil,\nand a will to serve the good, while exulting that the evil will not\nyield without a battle.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[349:1] By _Absolute Idealism_ is meant that system of philosophy which\ndefines the universe as the _absolute spirit_, which is the human\n_moral_, _cognitive_, or _appreciative consciousness_ universalized; or\nas the _absolute, transcendental mind_, whose state of _complete\nknowledge_ is implied in all finite thinking.\n\n[352:2] Plato: _Timaeus_, 29. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[359:3] Plato: _Symposium_, 202. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[359:4] Emerson: _Essays, Second Series_, pp. 65-66.\n\n[364:5] Emerson: _Op. cit._, p. 25.\n\nThe possibility of conflict between this method of nature study and the\nempirical method of science is significantly attested by the\ncircumstance that in the year 1801 Hegel published a paper in which he\nmaintained, on the ground of certain numerical harmonies, that there\ncould be no planet between Mars and Jupiter, while at almost exactly the\nsame time Piazzi discovered Ceres, the first of the asteroids.\n\n[368:6] McTaggart: _Studies in Hegelian Dialectic_, p. 181.\n\n[369:7] Green: _Prolegomena to Ethics_, p. 15.\n\n[370:8] Plato: _The Sophist_, 248. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[382:9] Hegel: _Encyclopaedie_, Sect. 45, lecture note. Quoted by\nMcTaggart: _Op. cit._, p. 69.\n\n[382:10] Hegel: _Encyclopaedie_, Sect. 50. Quoted by McTaggart: _Op.\ncit._, p. 70.\n\n[385:11] Royce: _Conception of God_, pp. 19, 43-44.\n\nThis argument is well summarized in Green's statement that \"the\nexistence of one connected world, which is the presupposition of\nknowledge, implies the action of one self-conditioning and\nself-determining mind.\" _Prolegomena to Ethics_, p. 181.\n\n[387:12] Kant: _Critical Examination of Practical Reason_. Translated by\nAbbott in _Kant's Theory of Ethics_, p. 180.\n\n[391:13] Quoted from McTaggart: _Op. cit._, pp. 231-232.\n\n[393:14] Emerson: _Op. cit._, pp. 30-31.\n\n[394:15] Royce: _The World and the Individual, First Series_, p. 465.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nCONCLUSION\n\n\n[Sidenote: Liability of Philosophy to Revision, Due to its Systematic\nCharacter.]\n\nSect. 195. One who consults a book of philosophy in the hope of finding\nthere a definite body of truth, sanctioned by the consensus of experts,\ncannot fail to be disappointed. And it should now be plain that this is\ndue not to the frailties of philosophers, but to the meaning of\nphilosophy. Philosophy is not additive, but reconstructive. Natural\nscience may advance step by step without ever losing ground; its\nempirical discoveries are in their severalty as true as they can ever\nbe. Thus the stars and the species of animals may be recorded\nsuccessively, and each generation of astronomers and zoologists may take\nup the work at the point reached by its forerunners. The formulation of\nresults does, it is true, require constant correction and revision--but\nthere is a central body of data which is little affected, and which\naccumulates from age to age. Now the finality of scientific truth is\nproportional to the modesty of its claims. Items of truth persist,\nwhile the interpretation of them is subject to alteration with the\ngeneral advance of knowledge; and, relatively speaking, science consists\nin items of truth, and philosophy in their interpretation. The liability\nto revision in science itself increases as that body of knowledge\nbecomes more highly unified and systematic. Thus the present age, with\nits attempt to construct a single comprehensive system of mechanical\nscience, is peculiarly an age when fundamental conceptions are subjected\nto a thorough re-examination--when, for example, so ancient a conception\nas that of matter is threatened with displacement by that of energy. But\nphilosophy is _essentially unitary and systematic_--and thus\n_superlatively liable to revision_.\n\n[Sidenote: The One Science and the Many Philosophies.]\n\nSect. 196. It is noteworthy that it is only in this age of a highly\nsystematic natural science that _different_ systems are projected, as in\nthe case just noted of the rivalry between the strictly mechanical, or\ncorpuscular, theory and the newer theory of energetics. It has\nheretofore been taken for granted that although there may be many\nphilosophies, there is but one body of science. And it is still taken\nfor granted that the experimental detail of the individual science is a\ncommon fund, to the progressive increase of which the individual\nscientist contributes the results of his special research; there being\n_rival_ schools of mechanics, physics, or chemistry, only in so far as\n_fundamental conceptions_ or _principles of orderly arrangement_ are in\nquestion. But philosophy deals exclusively with the most fundamental\nconceptions and the most general principles of orderly arrangement.\nHence it is significant of the very task of philosophy that there should\nbe many tentative systems of philosophy, even that each philosopher\nshould project and construct his own philosophy. Philosophy as the truth\nof synthesis and reconciliation, of comprehensiveness and coordination,\nmust be a living unity. It is a thinking of entire experience, and can\nbe sufficient only through being all-sufficient. The heart of every\nphilosophy is a harmonizing insight, an intellectual prospect within\nwhich all human interests and studies compose themselves. Such knowledge\ncannot be delegated to isolated co-laborers, but will be altogether\nmissed if not loved and sought in its indivisible unity. There is no\nmodest home-keeping philosophy; no safe and conservative philosophy,\nthat can make sure of a part through renouncing the whole. There is no\nphilosophy without intellectual temerity, as there is no religion\nwithout moral temerity. And the one is the supreme interest of thought,\nas the other is the supreme interest of life.\n\n[Sidenote: Progress in Philosophy. The Sophistication or Eclecticism of\nthe Present Age.]\n\nSect. 197. Though the many philosophies be inevitable, it must not be\nconcluded that there is therefore no progress in philosophy. The\nsolution from which every great philosophy is precipitated is the\nmingled wisdom of some latest age, with all of its inheritance. The\n\"positive\" knowledge furnished by the sciences, the refinements and\ndistinctions of the philosophers, the ideals of society--these and the\nwhole sum of civilization are its ingredients. Where there is no single\nsystem of philosophy significant enough to express the age, as did the\nsystems of Plato, Thomas Aquinas, Descartes, Locke, Kant, Hegel, and the\nothers who belong to the roll of the great philosophers, there exists a\n_general sophistication_, which is more elusive but not less\nsignificant. The present age--at any rate from its own stand-point--is\nnot an age of great philosophical systems. Such systems may indeed be\nliving in our midst unrecognized; but historical perspective cannot\nsafely be anticipated. It is certain that no living voice is known to\nspeak for this generation as did Hegel, and even Spencer, for the last.\nThere is, however, a significance in this very passing of Hegel and\nSpencer,--an enlightenment peculiar to an age which knows them, but has\nphilosophically outlived them. There is a moral in the history of\nthought which just now no philosophy, whether naturalism, or\ntranscendentalism, realism or idealism, can fail to draw. The\ncharacterization of this contemporary eclecticism or sophistication,\ndifficult and uncertain as it must needs be, affords the best summary\nand interpretation with which to conclude this brief survey of the\nfortunes of philosophy.\n\n[Sidenote: Metaphysics. The Antagonistic Doctrines of Naturalism and\nAbsolutism.]\n\nSect. 198. Since the problem of metaphysics is the crucial problem of\nphilosophy, the question of its present status is fundamental in any\ncharacterization of the age. It will appear from the foregoing account\nof the course of metaphysical development that two fundamental\ntendencies have exhibited themselves from the beginning. The one of\nthese is naturalistic and empirical, representing the claims of what\ncommon sense calls \"matters of fact\"; the other is transcendental and\nrational, representing the claims of the standards and ideals which are\nimmanent in experience, and directly manifested in the great human\ninterests of thought and action. These tendencies have on the whole been\nantagonistic; and the clear-cut and momentous systems of philosophy have\nbeen fundamentally determined by either the one or the other.\n\nThus materialism is due to the attempt to reduce all of experience to\nthe elements and principles of connection which are employed by the\nphysical sciences to set in order the actual motions, or changes of\nplace, which the parts of experience undergo. Materialism maintains that\nthe motions of bodies are indifferent to considerations of worth, and\ndenies that they issue from a deeper cause of another order. The very\nideas of such non-mechanical elements or principles are here provided\nwith a mechanical origin. Similarly a phenomenalism, like that of Hume,\ntakes immediate presence to sense as the norm of being and knowledge.\nIndividual items, directly verified in the moment of their occurrence,\nare held to be at once the content of all real truth, and the source of\nthose abstract ideas which the misguided rationalists mistake for real\ntruth.\n\nBut the absolutist, on the other hand, contends that the thinker must\n_mean_ something by the reality which he seeks. If he had it for the\nlooking, thought would not be, as it so evidently is, a purposive\nendeavor. And that which is meant by reality can be nothing short of the\nfulfilment or final realization of this endeavor of thought. To find out\nwhat thought seeks, to anticipate the consummation of thought and posit\nit as real, is therefore the first and fundamental procedure of\nphilosophy. The mechanism of nature, and all matters of fact, must come\nto terms with this absolute reality, or be condemned as mere appearance.\nThus Plato distinguishes the world of \"generation\" in which we\nparticipate by perception, from the \"true essence\" in which we\nparticipate by thought; and Schelling speaks of the modern experimental\nmethod as the \"corruption\" of philosophy and physics, in that it fails\nto construe nature in terms of spirit.\n\n[Sidenote: Concessions from the Side of Absolutism. Recognition of\nNature. The Neo-Fichteans.]\n\nSect. 199. Now it would never occur to a sophisticated philosopher of\nthe present, to one who has thought out to the end the whole tradition\nof philosophy, and felt the gravity of the great historical issues, to\nsuffer either of these motives to dominate him to the exclusion of the\nother. Absolutism has long since ceased to speak slightingly of physical\nscience, and of the world of perception. It is conceded that motions\nmust be known in the mechanical way, and matters of fact in the\nmatter-of-fact way. Furthermore, the prestige which science enjoyed in\nthe nineteenth century, and the prestige which the empirical and secular\nworld of action has enjoyed to a degree that has steadily increased\nsince the Renaissance, have convinced the absolutist of the intrinsic\nsignificance of these parts of experience. They are no longer reduced,\nbut are permitted to flourish in their own right. From the very councils\nof absolute idealism there has issued a distinction which is fast\nbecoming current, between the World of Appreciation, or the realm of\nmoral and logical principles, and the World of Description, or the realm\nof empirical generalizations and mechanical causes.[402:1] It is indeed\nmaintained that the former of these is metaphysically superior; but the\nlatter is ranked without the disparagement of its own proper categories.\n\nWith the Fichteans this distinction corresponds to the distinction in\nthe system of Fichte between the active moral ego, and the nature which\nit posits to act upon. But the _neo-Fichteans_ are concerned to show\nthat the nature so posited, or the World of Description, is the _realm\nof mechanical science_, and that the entire system of mathematical and\nphysical truth is therefore morally necessary.[403:2]\n\n[Sidenote: The Neo-Kantians.]\n\nSect. 200. A more pronounced tendency in the same direction marks the\nwork of the _neo-Kantians_. These philosophers repudiate the\nspiritualistic metaphysics of Schopenhauer, Fichte, and Hegel, believing\nthe real significance of Kant to lie in his critical method, in his\nexamination of the first principles of the different systems of\nknowledge, and especially in his analysis of the foundations of\nmathematics and physics.[403:3] In approaching mathematics and physics\nfrom a general logical stand-point, these neo-Kantians become scarcely\ndistinguishable in interest and temper from those scientists who\napproach logic from the mathematical and physical stand-point.\n\n[Sidenote: Recognition of the Individual. Personal Idealism.]\n\nSect. 201. The finite, moral individual, with his peculiar spiritual\nperspective, has long since been recognized as essential to the meaning\nof the universe rationally conceived. But in its first movement absolute\nidealism proposed to absorb him in the indivisible absolute self. It is\nnow pointed out that Fichte, and even Hegel himself, means the absolute\nto be a plurality or society of persons.[404:4] It is commonly conceded\nthat the will of the absolute must coincide with the wills of all finite\ncreatures in their severalty, that God wills in and through men.[404:5]\nCorresponding to this individualistic tendency on the part of absolute\nidealism, there has been recently projected a _personal idealism_, or\n_humanism_, which springs freshly and directly from the same motive.\nThis philosophy attributes ultimate importance to the human person with\nhis freedom, his interests, his control over nature, and his hope of the\nadvancement of the spiritual kingdom through cooperation with his\nfellows.[405:6]\n\n[Sidenote: Concessions from the Side of Naturalism. Recognition of\nFundamental Principles.]\n\nSect. 202. Naturalism exhibits a moderation and liberality that is not\nless striking than that of absolutism. This abatement of its claims\nbegan in the last century with agnosticism. It was then conceded that\nthere is an order other than that of natural science; but this order was\nheld to be inaccessible to human knowledge. Such a theory is essentially\nunstable because it employs principles which define a non-natural order,\nbut refuses to credit them or call them knowledge. The agnostic is in\nthe paradoxical position of one who knows of an unknowable world.\nPresent-day naturalism is more circumspect. It has interested itself in\nbringing to light that in the very procedure of science which, because\nit predetermines what nature shall be, cannot be included within nature.\nTo this interest is due the rediscovery of the rational foundations of\nscience. It was already known in the seventeenth century that exact\nscience does not differ radically from mathematics, as mathematics does\nnot differ radically from logic. Mathematics and mechanics are now being\nsubmitted to a critical examination which reveals the definitions and\nimplications upon which they rest, and the general relation of these to\nthe fundamental elements and necessities of thought.[406:7]\n\n[Sidenote: Recognition of the Will. Pragmatism.]\n\nSect. 203. This rationalistic tendency in naturalism is balanced by a\ntendency which is more empirical, but equally subversive of the old\nultra-naturalism. Goethe once wrote:\n\n \"I have observed that I hold that thought to be true which is\n _fruitful for me_. . . . When I know my relation to myself and\n to the outer world, I say that I possess the truth.\"\n\nSimilarly, it is now frequently observed that all knowledge is _humanly\nfruitful_, and it is proposed that this shall be regarded as the very\ncriterion of truth. According to this principle science as a whole, even\nknowledge as a whole, is primarily a human utility. The nature which\nscience defines is an artifact or construct. It is designed to express\nbriefly and conveniently what man may practically expect from his\nenvironment. This tendency is known as _pragmatism_. It ranges\nfrom systematic doctrines, reminiscent of Fichte, which seek to\ndefine practical needs and deduce knowledge from them, to the\nmore irresponsible utterances of those who liken science to\n\"shorthand,\"[407:8] and mathematics to a game of chess. In any case\npragmatism attributes to nature a certain dependence on will, and\ntherefore implies, even when it does not avow, that will with its\npeculiar principles or values cannot be reduced to the terms of nature.\nIn short, it would be more true to say that nature expresses will, than\nthat will expresses nature.[408:9]\n\n[Sidenote: Summary, and Transition to Epistemology.]\n\nSect. 204. Such, then, is the contemporary eclecticism as respects the\ncentral problem of metaphysics. There are _naturalistic_ and\n_individualistic_ tendencies in _absolutism_; _rationalistic_ and\n_ethical_ tendencies in _naturalism_; and finally the independent and\nspontaneous movements of _personal idealism_ and _pragmatism_.\n\nSince the rise of the Kantian and post-Kantian philosophy, metaphysics\nand epistemology have maintained relations so intimate that the present\nstate of the former cannot be characterized without some reference to\nthe present state of the latter. Indeed, the very issues upon which\nmetaphysicians divide are most commonly those provoked by the problem\nof knowledge. The counter-tendencies of naturalism and absolutism are\nalways connected, and often coincide with, the epistemological\nopposition between empiricism, which proclaims perception, and\nrationalism, which proclaims reason, to be the proper organ of\nknowledge. The other great epistemological controversy does not bear so\ndirect and simple a relation to the central metaphysical issues, and\nmust be examined on its own account.\n\n[Sidenote: The Antagonistic Doctrines of Realism and Idealism. Realistic\nTendency in Empirical Idealism.]\n\nSect. 205. The point of controversy is the dependence or independence of\nthe object of knowledge on the state of knowledge; idealism maintaining\nthat reality _is_ the knower or his content of mind, realism, that being\nknown is a circumstance which appertains to some reality, without being\nthe indispensable condition of reality as such. Now the sophisticated\nthought of the present age exhibits a tendency on the part of these\nopposite doctrines to approach and converge. It has been already\nremarked that the empirical idealism of the Berkeleyan type could not\navoid transcending itself. Hume, who omitted Berkeley's active spirits,\nno longer had any subjective seat or locus for the perceptions to which\nBerkeley had reduced the outer world. And perceptions which are not the\nstates of any subject, retain only their intrinsic character and become\na series of elements. When there is nothing beyond, which appears, and\nnothing within to which it appears, there ceases to be any sense in\nusing such terms as appearance, phenomenon, or impression. The term\nsensation is at present employed in the same ill-considered manner. But\nempirical idealism has come gradually to insist upon the importance of\nthe content of perception, rather than the relation of perception to a\nself as its state. The terms _element_ and _experience_, which are\nreplacing the subjectivistic terms, are frankly realistic.[410:10]\n\n[Sidenote: Realistic Tendency in Absolute Idealism. The Conception of\nExperience.]\n\nSect. 206. There is a similar realistic trend in the development of\nabsolute idealism. The pure Hegelian philosophy was notably objective.\nThe principles of development in which it centres were conceived by\nHegel himself to manifest themselves most clearly in the progressions of\nnature and history. Many of Hegel's followers have been led by moral and\nreligious interests to emphasize consciousness, and, upon\nepistemological grounds, to lay great stress upon the necessity of the\nunion of the parts of experience within an enveloping self. But absolute\nidealism has much at heart the overcoming of relativism, and the\nabsolute is defined in order to meet the demand for a being that shall\nnot have the cognitive deficiencies of an object of finite thought. So\nit is quite possible for this philosophy, while maintaining its\ntraditions on the whole, to abandon the term _self_ to the finite\nsubject, and regard its absolute as a system of rational and universal\nprinciples--self-sufficient because externally independent and\ninternally necessary. Hence the renewed study of categories as logical,\nmathematical, or mechanical principles, and entirely apart from their\nbeing the acts of a thinking self.\n\nFurthermore, it has been recognized that the general demand of idealism\nis met when reality is regarded as not outside of or other than\nknowledge, whatever be true of the question of dependence. Thus the\nconception of _experience_ is equally convenient here, in that it\nsignifies what is immediately present in knowledge, without affirming it\nto _consist in_ being so presented.[411:11]\n\n[Sidenote: Idealistic Tendencies in Realism. The Immanence Philosophy.]\n\nSect. 207. And at this point idealism is met by a latter-day realism.\nThe traditional modern realism springing from Descartes was dualistic.\nIt was supposed that reality in itself was essentially extra-mental, and\nthus under the necessity of being either represented or misrepresented\nin thought. But the one of these alternatives is dogmatic, in that\nthought can never test the validity of its relation to that which is\nperpetually outside of it; while the other is agnostic, providing only\nfor the knowledge of a world of appearance, an improper knowledge that\nis in fact not knowledge at all.\n\nBut realism is not necessarily dualistic, since it requires only that\nbeing shall not be dependent upon being known. Furthermore, since\nempiricism is congenial to naturalism, it is an easy step to say that\nnature is directly known in perception. This first takes the form of\npositivism, or the theory that only such nature as can be directly known\ncan be really known. But this agnostic provision for an unknown world\nbeyond, inevitably falls away and leaves _reality as that which is\ndirectly known, but not conditioned by knowledge_. Again the term\n_experience_ is the most useful, and provides a common ground for\n_idealistic realism_ with _realistic idealism_. A new epistemological\nmovement makes this conception of experience its starting-point. What is\nknown as the _immanence philosophy_ defines reality as experience, and\nmeans by experience the subject matter of all knowledge--not defined as\nsuch, but regarded as capable of being such. Experience is conceived to\nbe _both in and out_ of selves, cognition being but one of the special\nsystems into which experience may enter.[413:12]\n\n[Sidenote: The Interpretation of Tradition as the Basis for a New\nConstruction.]\n\nSect. 208. Does this eclecticism of the age open any philosophical\nprospect? Is it more than a general compromise--a confession of failure\non the part of each and every radical and clear-cut doctrine of\nmetaphysics and epistemology? There is no final answer to such a\nquestion short of an independent construction, and such procedure would\nexceed the scope of the present discussion. But there is an evident\ninterpretation of tradition that suggests a possible basis for such\nconstruction.\n\n[Sidenote: The Truth of the Physical System, but Failure of Attempt to\nReduce All Experience to it.]\n\nSect. 209. Suppose it to be granted that the categories of nature are\nquite self-sufficient. This would mean that there might conceivably be a\nstrictly physical order, governed only by mechanical principles, and by\nthe more general logical and mathematical principles. The body of\nphysical science so extended as to include such general conceptions as\nidentity, difference, number, quality, space, and time, is the account\nof such an order. This order need have no value, and need not be known.\nBut reality as a whole is evidently not such a strictly physical order,\nfor the definition of the physical order involves the rejection of many\nof the most familiar aspects of experience, such as its value and its\nbeing known in conscious selves. Materialism, in that it proposes to\nconceive the whole of reality as physical, must attempt to reduce the\nresiduum to physical terms, and with no hope of success. Goodness and\nknowledge cannot be explained as mass and force, or shown to be\nmechanical necessities.\n\n[Sidenote: Truth of Psychical Relations, but Impossibility of General\nReduction to Them.]\n\nSect. 210. Are we then to conclude that reality is not physical, and\nlook for other terms to which we may reduce physical terms? There is no\nlack of such other terms. Indeed, we could as fairly have _begun_\nelsewhere. Thus some parts of experience compose the consciousness of\nthe individual, and are said to be known by him. Experience so contained\nis connected by the special relation of being known together. But this\nrelation is quite indifferent to physical, moral, and logical relations.\nThus we may be conscious of things which are physically disconnected,\nmorally repugnant, and logically contradictory, or in all of these\nrespects utterly irrelevant. Subjectivism, in that it proposes to\nconceive the whole of reality as consciousness, must attempt to reduce\nphysical, moral, and logical relations to that co-presence in\nconsciousness from which they are so sharply distinguished in their very\ndefinition. The historical failure of this attempt was inevitable.\n\n[Sidenote: Truth of Logical and Ethical Principles. Validity of Ideal of\nPerfection, but Impossibility of Deducing the Whole of Experience from\nit.]\n\nSect. 211. But there is at least one further starting-point, the one\nadopted by the most subtle and elaborate of all reconstructive\nphilosophies. Logical necessities are as evidently real as bodies or\nselves. It is possible to define general types of inference, as well as\ncompact and internally necessary systems such as those of mathematics.\nThere is a perfectly distinguishable strain of pure rationality in the\nuniverse. Whether or not it be possible to conceive a pure rationality\nas self-subsistent, inasmuch as there are degrees it is at any rate\npossible to conceive of a maximum of rationality. But similarly there\nare degrees of moral goodness. It is possible to define with more or\nless exactness a morally perfect person, or an ideal moral community.\nHere again it may be impossible that pure and unalloyed goodness should\nconstitute a universe of itself. But that a maximum of goodness, with\nall of the accessories which it might involve, should be thus\nself-subsistent, is quite conceivable. It is thus possible to define an\nabsolute and perfect order, in which logical necessity, the interest of\nthought, or moral goodness, the interest of will, or both together,\nshould be realized to the maximum. Absolutism conceives reality under\nthe form of this ideal, and attempts to reconstruct experience\naccordingly. But is the prospect of success any better than in the cases\nof materialism and subjectivism? It is evident that the ideal of logical\nnecessity is due to the fact that certain parts of knowledge approach it\nmore closely than others. Thus mechanics contains more that is arbitrary\nthan mathematics, and mathematics more than logic. Similarly, the theory\nof the evolution of the planetary system, in that it requires the\nassumption of particular distances and particular masses for the parts\nof the primeval nebula, is more arbitrary than rational dynamics. It is\nimpossible, then, in view of the parts of knowledge which belong to the\nlower end of the scale of rationality, to regard reality as a whole as\nthe maximum of rationality; for either a purely dynamical, a purely\nmathematical, or a purely logical, realm would be more rational. The\nsimilar disproof of the moral perfection of reality is so unmistakable\nas to require no elucidation. It is evident that even where natural\nnecessities are not antagonistic to moral proprieties, they are at any\nrate indifferent to them.\n\n[Sidenote: Error and Evil Cannot be Reduced to the Ideal.]\n\nSect. 212. But thus far no reference has been made to error and to evil.\nThese are the terms which the ideals of rationality and goodness must\nrepudiate if they are to retain their meaning. Nevertheless experience\ncontains them and psychology describes them. We have already followed\nthe efforts which absolute idealism has made to show that logical\nperfection requires error, and that moral perfection requires evil. Is\nit conceivable that such efforts should be successful? Suppose a higher\nlogic to make the principle of contradiction the very bond of\nrationality. What was formerly error is now indispensable to truth. But\nwhat of the new error--the unbalanced and mistaken thesis, the\nunresolved antithesis, the scattered and disconnected terms of thought?\nThese fall outside the new truth as surely as the old error fell outside\nthe old truth. And the case of moral goodness is precisely parallel. The\nhigher goodness may be so defined as to require failure and sin. Thus it\nmay be maintained that there can be no true success without struggle,\nand no true spiritual exaltation except through repentance. But what of\nfailure unredeemed, sin unrepented, evil uncompensated and unresolved?\nNothing has been gained after all but a new definition of goodness--and\na new definition of evil. And this is an ethical, not a metaphysical\nquestion. The problem of evil, like the problem of error, is as far from\nsolution as ever. Indeed, the very urgency of these problems is due to\nmetaphysical absolutism. For this philosophy defines the universe as a\nperfect unity. Measured by the standard of such an ideal universe, the\nparts of finite experience take on a fragmentary and baffling character\nwhich they would not otherwise possess. The absolute perfection must by\ndefinition both determine and exclude the imperfect. Thus absolutism\nbankrupts the universe by holding it accountable for what it can never\npay.\n\n[Sidenote: Collective Character of the Universe as a Whole.]\n\nSect. 213. If the attempt to construct experience in the special terms\nof some part of experience be abandoned, how is reality to be defined?\nIt is evident that in that case there can be no definition of reality as\nsuch. It must be regarded as a collection of all elements, relations,\nprinciples, systems, that compose it. All truths will be true of it, and\nit will be the subject of all truths. Reality is at least physical,\npsychical, moral, and rational. That which is physical is not\nnecessarily moral or psychical, but may be either or both of these. Thus\nit is a commonplace of experience that what has bulk and weight may or\nmay not be good, and may or may not be known. Similarly, that which is\npsychical may or may not be physical, moral, or rational; and that which\nis moral or rational may or may not be physical and psychical. There is,\nthen, an indeterminism in the universe, a mere coincidence of\nprinciples, in that it contains physical, psychical, moral, logical\norders, without being in all respects either a physical, a psychical, a\nmoral, or a logical necessity.[420:13] Reality or experience itself is\nneutral in the sense of being exclusively predetermined by no one of the\nseveral systems it contains. But the different systems of experience\nretain their specific and proper natures, without the compromise which\nis involved in all attempts to extend some one until it shall embrace\nthem all. If such a universe seems inconceivably desultory and chaotic,\none may always remind one's self by directly consulting experience that\nit is not only found immediately and unreflectively, but returned to and\nlived in after every theoretical excursion.\n\n[Sidenote: Moral Implications of such a Pluralistic Philosophy. Purity\nof the Good.]\n\nSect. 214. But what implications for life would be contained in such a\nphilosophy? Even if it be theoretically clarifying, through being\nhospitable to all differences and adequate to the multifarious demands\nof experience, is it not on that very account morally dreary and\nstultifying? Is not its refusal to establish the universe upon moral\nfoundations destructive both of the validity of goodness, and of the\nincentive to its attainment? Certainly not--if the validity of goodness\nbe determined by criteria of worth, and if the incentive to goodness be\nthe possibility of making that which merely exists, or is necessary,\nalso good.\n\nThis philosophy does not, it is true, define the good, but it makes\nethics autonomous, thus distinguishing the good which it defines, and\nsaving it from compromise with matter-of-fact, and logical or mechanical\nnecessity. The criticism of life is founded upon an independent basis,\nand affords justification, of a selective and exclusive moral idealism.\nJust because it is not required that the good shall be held accountable\nfor whatever is real, the ideal can be kept pure and intrinsically\nworthy. The analogy of logic is most illuminating. If it be insisted\nthat whatever exists is logically necessary, logical necessity must be\nmade to embrace that from which it is distinguished by definition, such\nas contradiction, mere empirical existence, and error. The consequence\nis a logical chaos which has in truth forfeited the name of logic.\nSimilarly a goodness defined to make possible the deduction from it of\nmoral evil or moral indifference loses the very distinguishing\nproperties of goodness. The consequence is an ethical neutrality which\ninvalidates the moral will. A metaphysical neutrality, on the other\nhand, although denying that reality as such is predestined to\nmorality--and thus affording no possibility of an ethical\nabsolutism--becomes the true ground for an ethical purism.\n\n[Sidenote: The Incentive to Goodness.]\n\nSect. 215. But, secondly, there can be no lack of incentive to goodness\nin a universe which, though not all-good, is in no respect incapable of\nbecoming good. That which is mechanically or logically necessary, and\nthat which is psychically present, _may be good_. And what can the\nrealization of goodness mean if not that what is natural and necessary,\nactual and real, shall be also good. The world is not good, will not be\ngood, merely through being what it is, but is or shall be made good\nthrough the accession of goodness. It is this belief that the real is\nnot necessarily, but may be, good; that the ideal is not necessarily,\nbut may be, realized; which has inspired every faith in action.\nPhilosophically it is only a question of permitting such faith to be\nsincere, or condemning it as shallow. If the world be made good through\ngood-will, then the faith of moral action is rational; but if the world\nbe good because whatever is must be good, then moral action is a\ntread-mill, and its attendant and animating faith only self-deception.\nMoral endeavor is the elevation of physical and psychical existence to\nthe level of goodness.\n\n \"Relate the inheritance to life, convert the tradition into a\n servant of character, draw upon the history for support in the\n struggles of the spirit, declare a war of extermination\n against the total evil of the world; and then raise new armies\n and organize into fighting force every belief available in the\n faith that has descended to you.\"[423:14]\n\nEvil is here a practical, not a theoretical, problem. It is not to be\nsolved by thinking it good, for to think it good is to deaden the very\nnerve of action; but by destroying it and replacing it with good.\n\n[Sidenote: The Justification of Faith.]\n\nSect. 216. The justification of faith is in the promise of reality. For\nwhat, after all, would be the meaning of a faith which declares that all\nthings, good, bad, and indifferent, are everlastingly and necessarily\nwhat they are--even if it were concluded on philosophical grounds to\ncall that ultimate necessity good. Faith has interests; faith is faith\n_in_ goodness or beauty. Then what more just and potent cause of despair\nthan the thought that the ideal must be held accountable for error,\nugliness, and evil, or for the indifferent necessities of\nnature?[424:15] Are ideals to be prized the less, or believed in the\nless, when there is no ground for their impeachment? How much more\nhopeful for what is worth the hoping, that nature should discern ideals\nand take some steps toward realizing them, than that ideals should have\ncreated nature--such as it is! How much better a report can we give of\nnature for its ideals, than of the ideals for their handiwork, if it be\nnature! Emerson writes:\n\n \"Suffice it for the joy of the universe that we have not\n arrived at a wall, but at interminable oceans. Our life seems\n not present so much as prospective; not for the affairs on\n which it is wasted, but as a hint of this vast-flowing vigor.\n Most of life seems to be mere advertisement of faculty;\n information is given us not to sell ourselves cheap; that we\n are very great. So, in particulars, our greatness is always in\n a tendency or direction, not in an action. It is for us to\n believe in the rule, not in the exception. The noble are thus\n known from the ignoble. So in accepting the leading of the\n sentiments, it is not what we believe concerning the\n immortality of the soul or the like, but _the universal\n impulse to believe_, that is the material circumstance and is\n the principal fact in the history of the globe.\"[425:16]\n\n[Sidenote: The Worship and Service of God.]\n\nSect. 217. If God be rid of the imputation of moral evil and\nindifference, he may be _intrinsically worshipful_, because regarded\nunder the form of the highest ideals. And if the great cause of goodness\nbe in fact at stake, God may both command the adoration of men through\nhis purity, and reenforce their virtuous living through representing to\nthem that realization of goodness in the universe at large which both\ncontains and exceeds their individual endeavor.\n\n[Sidenote: The Philosopher and the Standards of the Marketplace.]\n\nSect. 218. Bishop Berkeley wrote in his \"Commonplace Book\":\n\n \"My speculations have the same effect as visiting foreign\n countries: in the end I return where I was before, but my\n heart at ease, and enjoying life with new satisfaction.\"\n\nIf it be essential to the meaning of philosophy that it should issue\nfrom life, it is equally essential that it should return to life. But\nthis connection of philosophy with life does not mean its reduction to\nthe terms of life as conceived in the market-place. Philosophy cannot\nemanate from life, and quicken life, without elevating and ennobling it,\nand will therefore always be incommensurable with life narrowly\nconceived. Hence the philosopher must always be as little understood by\nmen of the street as was Thales by the Thracian handmaiden. He has an\ninnocence and a wisdom peculiar to his perspective.\n\n \"When he is reviled, he has nothing personal to say in answer\n to the civilities of his adversaries, for he knows no scandals\n of anyone, and they do not interest him; and therefore he is\n laughed at for his sheepishness; and when others are being\n praised and glorified, he cannot help laughing very sincerely\n in the simplicity of his heart; and this again makes him look\n like a fool. When he hears a tyrant or king eulogized, he\n fancies that he is listening to the praises of some keeper of\n cattle--a swineherd, or shepherd, or cowherd, who is being\n praised for the quantity of milk which he squeezes from them;\n and he remarks that the creature whom they tend, and out of\n whom they squeeze the wealth, is of a less tractable and more\n insidious nature. Then, again, he observes that the great man\n is of necessity as ill-mannered and uneducated as any\n shepherd, for he has no leisure, and he is surrounded by a\n wall, which is his mountain-pen. Hearing of enormous landed\n proprietors of ten thousand acres and more, our philosopher\n deems this to be a trifle, because he has been accustomed to\n think of the whole earth; and when they sing the praises of\n family, and say that some one is a gentleman because he has\n had seven generations of wealthy ancestors, he thinks that\n their sentiments only betray the dulness and narrowness of\n vision of those who utter them, and who are not educated\n enough to look at the whole, nor to consider that every man\n has had thousands and thousands of progenitors, and among them\n have been rich and poor, kings and slaves, Hellenes and\n barbarians, many times over.\"[427:17]\n\nIt is not to be expected that the opinion of the \"narrow, keen, little,\nlegal mind\" should appreciate the philosophy which has acquired the\n\"music of speech,\" and hymns \"the true life which is lived by immortals\nor men blessed of heaven.\" Complacency cannot understand reverence, nor\nsecularism, religion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Secularism of the Present Age.]\n\nSect. 219. If we may believe the report of a contemporary philosopher,\nthe present age is made insensible to the meaning of life through\npreoccupation with its very achievements:\n\n \"The world of finite interests and objects has rounded itself,\n as it were, into a separate whole, within which the mind of\n man can fortify itself, and live _securus adversus deos_, in\n independence of the infinite. In the sphere of _thought_,\n there has been forming itself an ever-increasing body of\n science, which, tracing out the relation of finite things to\n finite things, never finds it necessary to seek for a\n beginning or an end to its infinite series of phenomena, and\n which meets the claims of theology with the saying of the\n astronomer, 'I do not need that hypothesis.' In the sphere of\n _action_, again, the complexity of modern life presents a\n thousand isolated interests, crossing each other in ways too\n subtle to trace out--interests commercial, social, and\n political--in pursuing one or other of which the individual\n may find ample occupation for his existence, without ever\n feeling the need of any return upon himself, or seeing any\n reason to ask himself whether this endless striving has any\n meaning or object beyond itself.\"[428:18]\n\n[Sidenote: The Value of Contemplation for Life.]\n\nSect. 220. There is no dignity in living except it be in the solemn\npresence of the universe; and only contemplation can summon such a\npresence. Moreover, the sessions must be not infrequent, for memory is\nshort and visions fade. Truth does not require, however, to be followed\nout of the world. There is a speculative detachment from life which is\nless courageous, even if more noble, than worldliness. Such is Dante's\nexalted but mediaeval intellectualism.\n\n \"And it may be said that (as true friendship between men\n consists in each wholly loving the other) the true philosopher\n loves every part of wisdom, and wisdom every part of the\n philosopher, inasmuch as she draws all to herself, and allows\n no one of his thoughts to wander to other things.\"\n\nEven though, as Aristotle thought, pure contemplation be alone proper to\nthe gods in their perfection and blessedness, for the sublunary world\nthis is less worthy than that balance and unity of faculty which\ndistinguished the humanity of the Greek.\n\n \"Then,\" writes Thucydides, \"we are lovers of the beautiful,\n yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind without\n loss of manliness. Wealth we employ, not for talk and\n ostentation, but when there is a real use for it. To avoid\n poverty with us is no disgrace; the true disgrace is in doing\n nothing to avoid it. An Athenian citizen does not neglect the\n State because he takes care of his own household; and even\n those of us who are engaged in business have a very fair idea\n of politics. We alone regard a man who takes no interest in\n public affairs not as a harmless, but as a useless character;\n and if few of us are originators, we are all sound judges, of\n a policy. The great impediment to action is, in our opinion,\n not discussion, but the want of that knowledge which is gained\n by discussion preparatory to action. For we have a peculiar\n power of thinking before we act, and of acting too, whereas\n other men are courageous from ignorance, but hesitate upon\n reflection.\"[429:19]\n\nThus life may be broadened and deepened without being made thin and\nineffectual. As the civil community is related to the individual's\nprivate interests, so the community of the universe is related to the\ncivil community. There is a citizenship in this larger community which\nrequires a wider and more generous interest, rooted in a deeper and more\nquiet reflection. The world, however, is not to be left behind, but\nserved with a new sense of proportion, with the peculiar fortitude and\nreverence which are the proper fruits of philosophy.\n\n \"This is that which will indeed dignify and exalt knowledge,\n if contemplation and action may be more nearly and straitly\n conjoined and united together than they have been; a\n conjunction like unto that of the two highest planets: Saturn,\n the planet of rest and contemplation, and Jupiter, the planet\n of civil society and action.\"[430:20]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[402:1] Cf. Josiah Royce: _The Spirit of Modern Philosophy_, Lecture\nXII; _The World and the Individual, Second Series_.\n\n[403:2] Cf. Hugo Muensterberg: _Psychology and Life_. The more important\nwritings of this school are: _Die Philosophie im Beginn des zwanzigsten\nJahrhunderts_, edited by Wilhelm Windelband, and contributed to by\nWindelband, H. Rickert, O. Liebmann, E. Troeltsch, B. Bauch, and others.\nThis book contains an excellent bibliography. Also, Rickert: _Der\nGegenstand der Erkenntnis_; _Die Grenzen der naturwissenschaftlichen\nBegriffsbildung_, and other works. Windelband: _Praeludien_; _Geschichte\nund Naturwissenschaft_. Muensterberg: _Grundzuege der Psychologie_.\nEucken: _Die Grundbegriffe der Gegenwart_.\n\n[403:3] Cf. F. A. Lange: _History of Materialism_, Book II, Chap. I, on\n_Kant and Materialism_; also Alois Riehl: _Introduction to the Theory of\nScience and Metaphysics_. Translation by Fairbanks. The more important\nwritings of this school are: Hermann Cohen: _Kant's Theorie der\nErfahrung_; _Die Logik der reinen Erkenntniss_, and other works. Paul\nNatorp: _Sozialpaedagogik_; _Einleitung in die Psychologie nach\nkritischer Methode_, and other works. E. Cassirer: _Leibniz' System in\nseinen wissenschaftlichen Grundlagen_. Riehl: _Der philosophische\nKriticismus, und seine Bedeutung fur die Positive Wissenschaft_. Cf.\nalso E. Husserl: _Logische Untersuchungen_.\n\n[404:4] Cf. J. M. E. McTaggart: _Studies in Hegelian Cosmology_, Chap.\nIII.\n\n[404:5] Cf. Royce: _The Conception of God, Supplementary Essay_, pp.\n135-322; _The World and the Individual, First Series_.\n\n[405:6] This movement began as a criticism of Hegelianism in behalf of\nthe human personality. Cf. Andrew Seth: _Hegelianism and Personality_;\n_Man and the Cosmos_; _Two Lectures on Theism_. G. H. Howison: _The\nLimits of Evolution_. The important writings of the more independent\nmovement are: William James: _The Will to Believe_. H. Sturt, editor:\n_Personal Idealism, Philosophical Essays by Eight Members of Oxford\nUniversity_. F. C. S. Schiller: _Humanism_. Henri Bergson: _Essai sur\nles donnees immediates de la conscience_; _Matiere et memoire_. This\nmovement is closely related to that of _Pragmatism_. See under Sect.\n203.\n\n[406:7] Cf. Bertrand Russell: _Principles of Mathematics_, Vol. I. Among\nthe more important writings of this movement are the following:\nGiuseppi Peano: _Formulaire de Mathematique_, published by the _Rivista\ndi matematica_, Tom. I-IV. Richard Dedekind: _Was sind und was\nsollen die Zahlen?_ Georg Cantor: _Grundlagen einer allgemeinen\nMannigfaltigkeitslehre_. Louis Couturat: _De l'Infini Mathematique_, and\narticles in _Revue de Metaphysique et de Morale_. A. N. Whitehead: _A\nTreatise on Universal Algebra_. Heinrich Hertz: _Die Prinzipien der\nMechanik_. Henri Poincare: _La Science et l'Hypothese_. For the bearing\nof these investigations on philosophy, see Royce: _The Sciences of the\nIdeal_, in _Science_, Vol. XX, No. 510.\n\n[407:8] The term used by Karl Pearson in his _Grammar of Science_.\n\n[408:9] The important English writings of the recent independent\nmovement known as _pragmatism_ are: C. S. Peirce: _Illustrations of the\nLogic of Science_, in _Popular Science Monthly_, Vol. XII. W. James:\n_The Pragmatic Method_, in _Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and\nScientific Methods_, Vol. I; _Humanism and Truth_, in _Mind_, Vol. XIII,\nN. S.; _The Essence of Humanism_, in _Jour. of Phil., Psych., and Sc.\nMeth._, Vol. II (with bibliography); _The Will to Believe_. John Dewey:\n_Studies in Logical Theory_. W. Caldwell: _Pragmatism_, in _Mind_, Vol.\nXXV., N. S. See also literature on _personal idealism_, Sect. 201. A\nsimilar tendency has appeared in France in Bergson, LeRoy, Milhaud, and\nin Germany in Simmel.\n\n[410:10] Cf. Ernst Mach: _Analysis of Sensation_. Translation by\nWilliams.\n\n[411:11] Cf. F. H. Bradley: _Appearance and Reality_.\n\n[413:12] Cf. Carstanjen: _Richard Avenarius, and his General Theory of\nKnowledge, Empiriocriticism_. Translation by H. Bosanquet, in _Mind_,\nVol. VI, N. S. Also James: _Does Consciousness Exist?_ and _A World of\nPure Experience_, in _Jour. of Phil., Psych., and Sc. Meth_., Vol. I;\n_The Thing and its Relations_, _ibid._, Vol. II.\n\nThe standard literature of this movement is unfortunately not available\nin English. Among the more important writings are: R. Avenarius: _Kritik\nder reinen Erfahrung_; _Der menschliche Weltbegriff_, and other works.\nJoseph Petzoldt: _Einfuehrung in die Philosophie der reinen Erfahrung_.\nErnst Mach: _Die Analyse der Empfindung und das Verhaeltniss des\nPhysischen zum Psychischen, 2. Auff._ Wilhelm Schuppe: _Grundriss der\nErkenntnisstheorie und Logik_. Friedrich Carstanjen: _Einfuehrung in die\n\"Kritik der reinen Erfahrung\"_--an exposition of Avenarius. Also\narticles by the above, R. Willy, R. v. Schubert-Soldern, and others, in\nthe _Vierteljahrsschrift fur wissenschaftliche Philosophie_.\n\n[420:13] It is not, of course, denied that there may be other orders,\nsuch as, _e. g._, an aesthetic order; or that there may be definite\nrelations between these orders, such as, _e. g._, the psycho-physical\nrelation.\n\n[423:14] Quoted from George A. Gordon: _The New Epoch for Faith_, p. 27.\n\n[424:15] Cf. James: _The Will to Believe_, essay on _The Dilemma of\nDeterminism, passim_.\n\n[425:16] _Essays, Second Series_, p. 75.\n\n[427:17] Plato: _Theaetetus_, 174-175. Translation by Jowett.\n\n[428:18] E. Caird: _Literature and Philosophy_, Vol. I, pp. 218-219.\n\n[429:19] Translation by Jowett. Quoted by Laurie in his _Pre-Christian\nEducation_, p. 213.\n\n[430:20] Bacon: _Advancement of Learning_, Book I.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n\nThe references contained in this bibliography have been selected on the\nscore of availability in English for the general reader and beginning\nstudent of philosophy. But I have sought wherever possible to include\npassages from the great philosophers and men of letters. These are\nplaced first in the list, followed by references to contemporary writers\nand secondary sources.\n\n\nCHAPTER I, THE PRACTICAL MAN AND THE PHILOSOPHER.\n\nPLATO: _Republic_, especially Book VII. Translations by Jowett and\nVaughan. _Theaetetus_, 172 ff. Translation by Jowett.\n\nARISTOTLE: _Ethics_, Book X. Translation by Welldon.\n\nMARCUS AURELIUS: _Thoughts._ Translation by Long.\n\nEPICTETUS: _Discourses._ Translation by Long.\n\nBACON: _The Advancement of Learning._\n\nEMERSON: _Representative Men--Plato; or the Philosopher._ _Conduct of\nLife--Culture._ _Essays, Second Series--Experience._\n\n * * * * *\n\nROYCE, JOSIAH: _Spirit of Modern Philosophy._ Introduction.\n\nHIBBEN, J. G.: _Problems of Philosophy._ Introduction.\n\n\nCHAPTER II, POETRY AND PHILOSOPHY.\n\nPLATO: _Republic_, Books II and III. Translation by Jowett. (Criticism\nof the poets as demoralizing.)\n\nWORDSWORTH: _Observations Prefixed to the Second Edition of the Lyrical\nBallads._\n\nSHELLEY: _Defence of Poetry._\n\nEVERETT, C. C.: _Poetry, Comedy, and Duty._ (discussion of the\nPhilosophy of Poetry.) _Essays, Theological and Literary._ (On the\nPoetry of Emerson, Goethe, Tennyson, Browning.)\n\nCAIRD, EDWARD: _Literature and Philosophy._ (Wordsworth, Dante, Goethe,\netc.)\n\nROYCE, JOSIAH: _Studies of Good and Evil._ Essay on _Tennyson and\nPessimism_.\n\nSANTAYANA, GEORGE: _Poetry and Religion._ (Philosophy of poetry; Greek\nPoetry, Shakespeare, etc.)\n\nSNEATH, E. H.: _Philosophy in Poetry: A Study of Sir John Davies's Poem,\n\"Nosce Teipsum.\"_\n\n\nCHAPTERS III AND IV, RELIGION.\n\nPLATO: _Republic_, Book III. Translations by Jowett and Vaughan.\n(Criticism of religion from the stand-point of morality and politics.)\n\nST. AUGUSTINE: _Confessions._ Translation by Pusey. (Document of\nreligious experience.)\n\nTHOMAS A KEMPIS: _Imitation of Christ._ Translation by Stanhope.\n(Mediaeval programme of personal religion.)\n\nSPINOZA: _Theological-political Treatise._ Translation by Elwes. (One of\nthe first great pleas for religious liberty and one of the first\nattempts to define the _essential_ in religion.)\n\nKANT: _Critique of Pure Reason--the Canon of Pure Reason_. Translation\nby Max Mueller. _Critique of Practical Reason._ Translation by Abbott in\n_Theory of Ethics_. (Defines religion as the province of faith,\ndistinguishes it from knowledge, and relates it to morality.)\n\nSCHLEIERMACHER: _On Religion._ _Speeches to its Cultured Despisers._\nTranslation by Oman. (Ponderous, dogmatic in its philosophy, but\nprofound and sympathetic in its understanding of religion.)\n\nARNOLD: _Literature and Dogma._ (On the essence of religion as\nexemplified in Judaism and Christianity.)\n\n * * * * *\n\nSABATIER, A.: _Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion based on Psychology\nand History._ Translation by Seed. _Religions of Authority and the\nReligion of the Spirit._ Translation by Houghton. (These books emphasize\nthe essential importance of the believer's attitude to God.)\n\nJAMES, WILLIAM: _The Varieties of Religious Experience._ (A rich\nstorehouse of religion, sympathetically interpreted.)\n\nEVERETT, C. C.: _The Psychological Elements of Religious Faith._ (A\nstudy in the definition and meaning of religion.)\n\nCAIRD, EDWARD: _Evolution of Religion._ (Indoctrinated with the author's\nidealistic philosophy.)\n\nFIELDING, H.: _The Hearts of Men._ (A plea for the universal religion.\nSpecial feeling for Indian religions.)\n\nHARNACK, A.: _What is Christianity?_ Translation by Saunders. (Attempt\nto define the _essence_ of Christianity.)\n\nPALMER, G. H.: _The Field of Ethics_, Chapters V and VI. (On the\nrelation of ethics and religion.)\n\nBROWN, W. A.: _The Essence of Christianity._ (Special study of the\ndefinition of religion.)\n\nJASTROW, M.: _The Study of Religion._ (Method of history and psychology\nof religion.)\n\nSMITH, W. ROBERTSON: _The Religion of the Semites._ (Excellent study of\ntribal religions.)\n\nCLARKE, W. N.: _What Shall We Think of Christianity?_ (An interpretation\nof Christianity.)\n\nLEUBA, J. H.: _Introduction to a Psychological Study of Religion._ In\n_The Monist_, Vol. XI, p. 195.\n\nSTARBUCK, E. D.: _The Psychology of Religion._\n\n\nCHAPTER V, THE PHILOSOPHICAL CRITICISM OF SCIENCE.[434:A]\n\nPLATO: _Republic_, Book VII, 526 ff. Translations by Jowett and Vaughan.\n_Phaedo_, 96 ff. Translation by Jowett.\n\nBERKELEY: _Alciphron_, the Fourth Dialogue. _Siris_, especially 234-264.\n(On the failure of the scientist to grasp the deeper truth respecting\ncauses and substances.)\n\nDESCARTES: _Discourse on Method._ Translation by Veitch.\n\nSPINOZA: _On the Improvement of the Understanding._ Translation by\nElwes.\n\nKANT: _Critique of Pure Reason--Transcendental Aesthetic_ and\n_Transcendental Analytic._ Translation by Max Mueller. (Studies of the\nMethod of Science.)\n\n * * * * *\n\nWARD, JAMES: _Naturalism and Agnosticism._ (Full but clear account of\nrecent development of natural science, and criticism of its use as\nphilosophy.)\n\nMACH, ERNST: _Science of Mechanics._ (Historical and methodological.)\n\nJAMES, WILLIAM: _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. II, Chap. xxviii.\n(Emphasizes the practical interest underlying science.)\n\nROYCE, JOSIAH: _The World and the Individual, Second Series, Man and\nNature._ (Interpretation of the province of natural science from the\nstand-point of absolute idealism.)\n\nPEARSON, KARL: _The Grammar of Science._ (The limits of science from the\nscientific stand-point.)\n\nCLIFFORD, W. K.: _Lectures and Essays: On the Aims and Instruments of\nScientific Thought; The Philosophy of the Pure Sciences; On the Ethics\nof Belief._\n\nHUXLEY, T. H.: _Method and Results._ (The positivistic position.)\n\nMUENSTERBERG, HUGO: _Psychology and Life._ (Epistemological limitations\nof natural science applied to psychology, from idealistic stand-point.)\n\nFULLERTON, G. E.: _A System of Metaphysics_, Part II.\n\nTAYLOR, A. E.: _Elements of Metaphysics_, Book III.\n\n\nCHAPTERS VI AND VII, THE SPECIAL PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\nPLATO: _Dialogues_, especially _Protagoras_ and _Theaetetus_.\nTranslation by Jowett. (The actual genesis of special problems.)\n\n * * * * *\n\nKUELPE, OSWALD: _Introduction to Philosophy._ Translation by Pillsbury\nand Titchener. (Full and accurate account of the traditional terms and\ndoctrines of philosophy.)\n\nHIBBEN, J. G.: _Problems of Philosophy._ (Brief and elementary.)\n\nSIDGWICK, HENRY: _Philosophy, its Scope and Relations._\n\nPAULSEN, FRIEDRICH: _Introduction to Philosophy._ Translation by Thilly.\n\nBALDWIN, J. M.: _Dictionary of Philosophy._ (Full, and convenient for\nreference.)\n\nFERRIER, J. F.: _Lectures on Greek Philosophy._ (Interpretation of the\nbeginning and early development of philosophy.)\n\nBURNET, J.: _Early Greek Philosophy._ Translation of the sources.\n\nFAIRBANKS, A.: _The First Philosophers of Greece._\n\nGOMPERZ, TH.: _Greek Thinkers_, Vol. I. Translation by Magnus. (On the\nfirst development of philosophical problems.)\n\nPALMER, G. H.: _The Field of Ethics._ (On the relations of the ethical\nproblem.)\n\nPUFFER, ETHEL: _The Psychology of Beauty._ (On the relations of the\naesthetical problem.)\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII, NATURALISM.[436:A]\n\nLUCRETIUS: _On the Nature of Things._ Translation by Munro. (Early\nmaterialism.)\n\nHOBBES: _Metaphysical System._ Edited by Calkins. _Leviathan_, Part I.\n(Modern materialism.)\n\n * * * * *\n\nBUECHNER, LOUIS: _Force and Matter._ Translation by Collingwood.\n(Nineteenth century materialism.)\n\nJANET, PAUL: _Materialism of the Present Day._ Translation by Masson.\n\nLANGE, F. A.: _History of Materialism._ Translation by Thomas.\n\nHAECKEL, ERNST: _The Riddle of the Universe._ Translation by McCabe.\n(\"Monism of Energy.\")\n\nCLIFFORD, W. K.: _Lectures and Essays: The Ethics of Belief; Cosmic\nEmotion; Body and Mind._ (Positivism.)\n\nHUXLEY, T. H.: _Evolution and Ethics; Prolegomena._ (Distinguishes\nbetween the moral and natural.) _Science and Hebrew Tradition_; _Science\nand Christian Tradition_. (Controversies of the naturalist with\nGladstone and Duke of Argyle.)\n\nSPENCER, HERBERT: _First Principles._ (The systematic evolutionary\nphilosophy.) _Principles of Ethics._ (Ethics of naturalism.) _The Nature\nand Reality of Religion._ (Controversy with Frederick Harrison.)\n\nBALFOUR, A. J.: _Foundations of Belief_, Part I. (On the religious,\nmoral, and aesthetic consequences of naturalism.)\n\nPATER, WALTER: _Marius the Epicurean._ (Refined hedonism.)\n\nROMANES, G. J.: _Thoughts on Religion._ (Approached from stand-point of\nscience.)\n\nBENTHAM, J.: _Introduction to the Principles of Morals and\nLegislation._ (Utilitarian.)\n\nSTEPHEN, L.: _Science of Ethics._ (Evolutionary and social.)\n\n\nCHAPTER IX, SUBJECTIVISM.\n\nPLATO: _Theaetetus._ Translation by Jowett. (Exposition and criticism of\nProtagoras.)\n\nBERKELEY: _Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous_; _Principles of\nHuman Knowledge_.\n\nHUME: _An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding._\n\nSCHOPENHAUER: _The World as Will and Idea._ Translation by Haldane and\nKemp.\n\nMILL, J. S.: _An Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy_,\nX-XIII.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCLIFFORD, W. K.: _Lectures and Essays: On the Nature of Things in\nThemselves._ (Panpsychism.)\n\nDEUSSEN, PAUL: _Elements of Metaphysics._ Translation by Duff.\n(Following Schopenhauer and Oriental philosophy.)\n\nPAULSEN, FR.: _Introduction to Philosophy._ (Panpsychism.)\n\nSTRONG, C. A.: _Why the Mind Has a Body._ (Panpsychism.)\n\nJAMES, WILLIAM: _Reflex Action and Theism_, in _The Will to Believe_.\n(Morality and religion of individualism.)\n\n\nCHAPTER X, ABSOLUTE REALISM.\n\nPARMENIDES: _Fragments._ Arrangement and translation by Burnet or\nFairbanks.\n\nPLATO: _Republic_, Books VI and VII. Translations by Jowett and Vaughan.\n_Symposium_, _Phaedrus_, _Phaedo_, _Philebus_. Translation by Jowett.\n\nARISTOTLE[437:A]: _Psychology._ Translations by Hammond and Wallace.\n_Ethics._ Translation by Welldon.\n\nSPINOZA: _Ethics_, especially Parts I and V. Translations by Elwes and\nWillis.\n\nLEIBNIZ: _Monadology_, and Selections. Translation by Latta. _Discourse\non Metaphysics._ Translation by Montgomery.\n\nMARCUS AURELIUS: _Thoughts._ Translation by Long.\n\nEPICTETUS: _Discourses._ Translation by Long.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCAIRD, EDWARD: _The Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philosophers._\n(The central conceptions of Plato and Aristotle.)\n\nJOACHIM: _A Study of the Ethics of Spinoza._\n\n\nCHAPTER XI, ABSOLUTE IDEALISM.\n\nDESCARTES: _Meditations._ Translation by Veitch.\n\nKANT: _Critique of Pure Reason._ Translation by Max Mueller. _Critique\nof Practical Reason._ Translation by Abbott, in Kant's _Theory of\nEthics_.\n\nFICHTE[437:A]: _Science of Ethics._ Translation by Kroeger. _Popular\nWorks: The Nature of the Scholar_; _The Vocation of Man_; _The Doctrine\nof Religion_. Translation by Smith.\n\nSCHILLER: _Aesthetic Letters, Essays, and Philosophical Letters._\nTranslation by Weiss. (Romanticism.)\n\nHEGEL[437:A]: _Ethics._ Translation by Sterrett. _Logic._ Translation,\nwith Introduction, by Wallace. _Philosophy of Mind._ Translation, with\nIntroduction, by Wallace. _Philosophy of Religion._ Translation by\nSpiers and Sanderson. _Philosophy of Right._ Translation by Dyde.\n\nGREEN, T. H.: _Prolegomena to Ethics._\n\nEMERSON: _The Conduct of Life--Fate._ _Essays, First Series--The\nOver-Soul; Circles._ _Essays, Second Series--The Poet; Experience;\nNature._ (The appreciation of life consistent with absolute idealism.)\n\nWORDSWORTH: _Poems_, _passim_.\n\nCOLERIDGE: _Aids to Reflection._ _The Friend._\n\nROYCE, J.: _Spirit of Modern Philosophy._ (Sympathetic exposition of\nKant, Fichte, Romanticism, and Hegel.) _The Conception of God._ (The\nepistemological argument.) _The World and the Individual, First Series._\n(Systematic development of absolute idealism; its moral and religious\naspects.)\n\nCAIRD, EDWARD: _The Critical Philosophy of Kant._ (Exposition and\ninterpretation from stand-point of later idealism.)\n\nEVERETT, C. C.: _Fichte's Science of Knowledge._\n\nMCTAGGART, J. M. E.: _Studies in Hegelian Dialectic._ Studies in\nHegelian Cosmology.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[434:A] For further contemporary writings on this topic, see foot-notes\nunder Sects. 199, 200, 203.\n\n[436:A] For histories of philosophy, see supplementary bibliography at\nend.\n\n[437:A] The Metaphysics of Aristotle, Fichte, and Hegel must be found by\nthe English reader mainly in the secondary sources.\n\n\n\n\nSUPPLEMENTARY BIBLIOGRAPHY ON THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\nI.--GENERAL.\n\nROGERS: _Student's History of Philosophy._ (Elementary and clear;\ncopious quotations.)\n\nWEBER: _History of Philosophy._ Translation by Thilly. (Comprehensive\nand compact.)\n\nWINDELBAND: _A History of Philosophy._ Translation by Tufts. (Emphasis\nupon the problems and their development.)\n\nERDMANN: _History of Philosophy._ Translation edited by Hough; in three\nvolumes. (Detailed and accurate exposition.)\n\nUEBERWEG: _A History of Philosophy._ Translation by Morris and Porter,\nin two volumes. (Very complete; excellent account of the literature.)\n\n\nII.--SPECIAL PERIODS.\n\nFERRIER: _Lectures on Greek Philosophy._ (Excellent introduction.)\n\nMARSHALL: _Short History of Greek Philosophy._ (Brief and clear.)\n\nWINDELBAND: _History of Ancient Philosophy._ Translation by Cushman.\n(Very accurate and scholarly; also brief.)\n\nZELLER: _Pre-Socratic Philosophy._ Translation by Alleyne. _Socrates and\nthe Socratic Schools._ Translation by Reichel. (Full and accurate.)\n\nGOMPERZ: _Greek Thinkers._ Translated by Magnus, in four volumes. (Very\nfull; especially on Plato. Goes no further than Plato.)\n\nBURNET: _Early Greek Philosophy._ (Translations of fragments, with\ncommentary.)\n\nFAIRBANKS: _The First Philosophers of Greece._ (Translations of\nfragments, with commentary.)\n\nTURNER: _History of Philosophy._ (Excellent account of Scholastic\nphilosophy.)\n\nROYCE: _The Spirit of Modern Philosophy._ (Very illuminating\nintroductory exposition of modern idealism.)\n\nFALCKENBERG: _History of Modern Philosophy._\n\nHOEFFDING: _History of Modern Philosophy._ Translation by Meyer, in two\nvolumes. (Full and good.)\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n ABSOLUTE, the, 307, 309, 332, 391, 392, 400, 404;\n being, 308;\n substance, 312;\n ideal, 326;\n spirit, 349 (_note_), 358 ff.;\n mind, 349 (_note_), 358, 380, 322 ff.\n\n ABSOLUTE IDEALISM, chap. xi;\n general meaning, 177, 349 (_note_), 400;\n criticism of, 349, 365, 385, 411, 416;\n epistemology of, 368 ff.;\n as related to Kant, 380;\n direct argument for, 383;\n ethics of, 386 ff.;\n religion of, 390 ff.;\n of present day, 402 ff., 410.\n\n ABSOLUTE REALISM, chap. x;\n general meaning, 306 (_note_), 400;\n epistemology of, 339;\n ethics of, 342;\n religion of, 346;\n criticism of, 338, 416.\n\n ABSTRACT, the, 139.\n\n ACTIVITY, 209, 285, 295.\n\n AESTHETICS, 189.\n\n AGNOSTICISM, 168, 252 ff.\n\n ANAXAGORAS, 239;\n quoted, 162.\n\n ANAXIMANDER, 224.\n\n ANSELM, SAINT, 200.\n\n ANTHROPOMORPHISM, 109.\n\n APPRECIATION, 25, 402.\n\n ARISTOTLE, in formal logic, 186;\n ethics of, 195, 345;\n psychology of, 208;\n philosophy of, 306, 332 ff.;\n and Plato, 333, 336;\n and Spinoza, 336;\n epistemology of, 339;\n religion of, 346, 429;\n on evil, 353.\n\n ATOMISM, 166, 229.\n Also see under LEUCIPPUS, and DEMOCRITUS.\n\n ATTITUDE, 62.\n\n ATTRIBUTE, in Spinoza, 312 ff.\n\n AUGUSTINE, SAINT,\n on communion with God, 68;\n on pietism, 195;\n his conception of self, 372.\n\n AUTOMATISM, 248.\n\n\n BAAL, religion of, 88.\n\n BACON, FRANCIS, on thought and action, 430.\n\n BALFOUR, A. J., on materialism, 264.\n\n BEAUTY, in aesthetics, 189;\n in Plato, 327, 332.\n\n BEING, Eleatic conception of, 308 ff.\n\n BELIEF, key to definition of religion, 58;\n general characters applied to religion, 59 ff.;\n in persons and dispositions, 62;\n examples of religions, 66 ff.;\n object of religions, 65, 82, 97;\n relation to logic, 182, 183.\n\n BENTHAM, 262.\n\n BERKELEY, on idealism, 176;\n relation to common-sense, 267;\n his refutation of material substance, 275 ff.;\n epistemology of, 277, 296, 369;\n theory of mathematics, 279;\n his spiritualism, 280, 284, 292;\n his conception of God, 284, 293;\n ethics of, 302;\n religion of, 304.\n\n BUDDHISM, 78.\n\n\n CAUSE, in science, 131;\n God as first, 203;\n of motion, 231 ff.;\n spirit as, 293 ff.\n\n CHRISTIANITY, persistence of, 76;\n essence of, 86;\n development from Judaism, 94;\n ethics of, 195, 198, 386;\n idea of God in, 200 ff., 205;\n emphasis on self-consciousness in, 372.\n\n COMTE, 115.\n\n CONTEMPLATION, 428.\n\n CONVERSION, 69 ff.\n\n CORPOREAL BEING, 224;\n processes of, 225;\n Berkeley's critique of, 278;\n historical conceptions of, 229.\n\n COSMOLOGICAL PROOF, the, of God, 203.\n\n COSMOLOGY, general meaning of, 159;\n mechanism in, 161, 225;\n teleology in, 161.\n\n COSMOS, origin of, 242.\n\n CRITICAL METHOD, 319 ff.\n\n CYNICISM, 259.\n\n CYRENAICISM, 259.\n\n\n DANTE, as philosopher-poet, 42 ff.;\n general meaning of the _Divine Comedy_, 43;\n and Thomas Aquinas, 43, 46;\n his vision of the ways of God, 46;\n on contemplation, 428.\n\n DARWIN, 204.\n\n DEISM, 207.\n\n DEMOCRITUS, 247.\n Also see ATOMISM.\n\n DESCARTES, on function of philosophy, 154;\n dualism of, 272, 412;\n his theory of space and matter, 229;\n automatism of, 248;\n epistemology of, 341, 375;\n his conception of self, 374.\n\n DESCRIPTION, as method of science, 128.\n\n DIALECTIC, in Plato, 320;\n in Hegel, 361.\n\n DIOGENES, 259.\n\n DOGMATISM, 167.\n\n DUALISM, general meaning, 162;\n of Descartes, 272, 412.\n\n DUTY, 196, 356, 360, 386.\n\n\n ECLECTICISM, contemporary, 398 ff., 413.\n\n ELEATICS.\n See under PARMENIDES, and ZENO.\n\n EMERSON, on spirit, 359;\n on nature, 364;\n on absolute, 392;\n on necessity, 393;\n on faith, 424.\n\n EMPIRICISM, general meaning, 168;\n in logic, 187;\n in naturalism, 252 ff.;\n of Locke, 274;\n of Berkeley, 274 ff.\n\n ENERGY, development of, conception of, 236 ff.\n\n EPISTEMOLOGY, relation to metaphysics, 150;\n definition of, 164;\n fundamental problems of, 168, 172;\n argument for God from, 202;\n of naturalism, 248, 252 ff., 257;\n of Descartes, 273, 341, 375;\n of Berkeley, 277, 296;\n of absolute realism, 339, 351;\n of Leibniz, 340, 341;\n of Plato, 340, 341;\n of Hume, 376;\n of Aristotle, 340, 341;\n of absolute idealism, 351, 368 ff.;\n of present day, 408 ff.\n\n ETERNAL, the, 309.\n\n ETHER, 230.\n\n ETHICS, relation to metaphysics, 151, 196 ff., 360;\n its origin in Socratic method, 181;\n definition of, 191;\n special problems and theories in, 191 ff.;\n of Socrates, 192, 194;\n of Aristotle, 195, 345;\n of naturalism, 258 ff.;\n of subjectivism, 298 ff.;\n of Schopenhauer, 299;\n argument for God from, 203;\n individualism in, 301;\n pluralism in, 302, 421;\n of Stoics and Spinoza, 342;\n Platonic, 342;\n of Kant, 386;\n of absolute idealism, 388.\n\n EUDAEMONISM, 195.\n\n EVIL, PROBLEM OF, 317, 336, 339, 352, 365 ff.;\n in Greek philosophy, 352;\n in absolute idealism, 367, 418.\n\n EVOLUTION, of cosmos, 242 ff.;\n of morality, 262.\n\n EXPERIENCE, 410, 411, 412;\n analysis of, by Kant, 354.\n\n\n FAITH, 424;\n special interests of, 199.\n See also RELIGION and BELIEF.\n\n FERGUSON, CHAS., quoted, 265.\n\n FICHTE, 360, 402.\n\n FIELDING, H., quoted on religion, 59, 74.\n\n FORCE, development of conception of, 231 ff.\n\n FORM, in Aristotle, 334.\n\n FREEDOM, in ethics, 196, 388;\n meanings and theories, 211.\n\n\n GOD, as guarantee of ideals, 18, 425;\n personality of, 62, 108 ff.;\n St. Augustine's communion with, 68;\n presence of, 68;\n as a disposition from which consequences may be expected, 85;\n meaning of, in religion, 87;\n idea of, in Judaism and Christianity, 92;\n why historical, 102;\n social relation with, 103;\n the ontological proof of, 200;\n ethical and epistemological arguments for, 202;\n cosmological proof of, 203;\n teleological proof of, 204;\n relation to the world, in theism, pantheism and deism, 205 ff.;\n will of, 212;\n conception of, in Berkeley, 284, 293 ff.;\n conception and proof of, in Spinoza, 312 ff., 392, 393;\n conception of, in Plato, 331, 352, 391, 393;\n conception of, in Leibniz, 338, 353.\n Also see ABSOLUTE.\n\n GOETHE, on Spinoza, and on philosophy, 51;\n on pragmatism, 407.\n\n GOOD, the, theories of, in ethics, 191 ff.;\n and the real, 326 ff., 421 ff.\n\n GREEK, religion, in Homer and Lucretius, 89;\n ideals, 195, 198, 429.\n\n GREEN, T. H., quoted, 369, 385 (_note_).\n\n\n HAECKEL, quoted, 236, 266.\n\n HEDONISM, 192.\n\n HEGEL, on science, 129;\n philosophy of, 150, 361 ff.;\n relation to Kant, 381;\n on the absolute, 382;\n ethics of, 390.\n\n HERACLITUS, 308.\n\n HISTORY, philosophy of, in Hegel, 363.\n\n HOBBES, his misconception of relations of philosophy and science, 115;\n quoted on ethics, 261.\n\n Holbach, 251, 252.\n\n HOMER, on Greek religion, 90.\n\n HUMANISM, 320, 404, 405.\n\n HUME, positivism of, 115, 377;\n phenomenalism of, 283;\n and Descartes, 376.\n\n HUXLEY, quoted, 255, 266.\n\n HYLOZOISM, 225.\n\n\n IDEAL, the, in Plato, 326;\n validity of, 416.\n\n IDEALISM, various meanings of term, 173 (_note_);\n meaning of, as theory of knowledge, 175 ff., 409;\n of present day, 409 ff.;\n empirical, see SUBJECTIVISM, PHENOMENALISM, SPIRITUALISM;\n absolute, see ABSOLUTE IDEALISM.\n\n IDEALS, in life, 10 ff.;\n adoption of, 17 ff.\n\n IDEAS, the, in Plato, 329.\n\n IMAGINATION, in poetry, 99;\n place of, in religion, 80, 97 ff.;\n special functions of, in religion, 101 ff.;\n scope of, in religion, 105 ff.;\n and the personality of God, 110.\n\n IMITATIO CHRISTI, quoted, 68.\n\n IMMANENCE THEORY, 412, 413.\n\n IMMORTALITY, 212.\n\n INDIVIDUALISM, 301, 320, 338, 404.\n\n INTUITIONISM, in ethics, 196.\n\n\n JAMES, WILLIAM, quoted on religion, 65, 71, 305.\n\n JUDAISM, development of, 92;\n and Christianity, 94.\n\n\n KANT, his transcendentalism, 177, 356;\n his critique of knowledge, 354 ff., 377 ff.;\n and absolute idealism, 380;\n ethics of, 386.\n\n KEPLER, quoted, 129.\n\n KNOWLEDGE, of the means in life, 8;\n of the end, 10;\n in poetry, 27 ff.;\n in religion, 82, 85, 97, 105;\n general theory of, on epistemology, 164 ff.;\n problem of source and criterion of, 168 ff.;\n problem of relation to its object, 172 ff., 277, 340, 351, 368 ff.;\n relation of logic to, 183 ff.;\n account of, in naturalism, 253 ff.\n Also see EPISTEMOLOGY.\n\n\n LA METTRIE, quoted, 250.\n\n LA PLACE, 242; quoted, 241.\n\n LEIBNIZ, on function of philosophy, 155;\n philosophy of, 333, 336 ff.;\n epistemology of, 339.\n\n LEUCIPPUS, quoted, 161.\n\n LIFE, as a starting-point for thought, 3;\n definition of, 5 ff.;\n and self-consciousness, 6;\n philosophy of 17 ff., 153;\n mechanical theory of, 244 ff.;\n return of philosophy to, 427 ff.;\n contemplation in, 428.\n\n LOCKE, epistemology of, 273.\n\n LOGIC, origin in Socratic method, 181;\n affiliations of, 182, 188;\n definition of, 183;\n parts of formal, 184 ff.;\n present tendencies in, 187 ff.;\n algebra of, 189.\n\n LUCRETIUS, his criticism of Greek religion, quoted, 89 ff.;\n on mechanism, 226, 240.\n\n\n MCTAGGART, J. M. E., on Hegel, 367;\n on the absolute, 391.\n\n MACH, E., 283;\n on philosophy and science, 120.\n\n MALEBRANCHE, 376.\n\n MARCUS AURELIUS, 348.\n\n MATERIALISM, 254, 256;\n general meaning, 223, 414;\n development, 224 ff.;\n and science, 228;\n French, 249;\n theory of mind in, 250.\n\n MATHEMATICS, importance in science, 132;\n logic in, 188;\n Berkeley's conception of, 279;\n Plato's conception of, 329, 335;\n Spinoza's conception of, 311, 335.\n\n MATTER, 225, 228;\n and space, 229;\n Berkeley's refutation of, 275 ff.;\n in Plato and Aristotle, 334.\n\n MECHANICAL THEORY, practical significance of its extension to the\n world at large, 20;\n in cosmology, 161, 225;\n of Descartes, 231;\n of Newton 232;\n of origin of cosmos, 242;\n of life, 244;\n in Spinoza, 336.\n\n METAPHYSICS, relation to epistemology, 150;\n relation to ethics, 151, 196 ff.;\n definition of, 158;\n relation to logic, 188;\n relation to theology, 207;\n present tendencies in, 399 ff., 408.\n\n MILL, J. S., 283 (_note_).\n\n MIND, explanation of in naturalism, 237, 247 ff.;\n of God, in Berkeley, 284, 294, 296;\n absolute, 349 (_note_), 358, 382 ff.\n Also see under SELF, and SOUL.\n\n MODE, in Spinoza, 313.\n\n MONADS, in Leibniz, 338.\n\n MONISM, 159, 163.\n\n MORALITY, and religion, 73;\n grounds of, according to Kant, 356;\n incentive to, 422.\n\n MYSTICISM, general account, 171;\n Schopenhauer's, 290;\n types of religions, 391.\n\n\n NAEGELI, C. v., quoted, 287.\n\n NATURAL SCIENCE, true relations of, with philosophy, 116;\n sphere of, with reference to philosophy, 117 ff.;\n philosophy of, its procedure, 121, 135, 142, 154, 401;\n origin of, as special interest, 123 ff.;\n human value of, 126, 127, 143;\n method and fundamental conceptions of, 406, 128 ff.;\n general development of, 134;\n limits of, because abstract, 136 ff., 414;\n validity of, 142;\n logic and, 188;\n development of conceptions in, 229 ff.;\n grounds of, according to Kant, 355, 377;\n Hume on, 377;\n permanence and progress in, 395 ff.\n\n NATURAL SELECTION, 204, 245.\n\n NATURALISM, chap. viii;\n general meaning, 217, 223 (_note_), 399;\n claims of, 239;\n task of, 241;\n criticism of, 117, 257, 263;\n of present day, 405, 412.\n Also see under MATERIALISM, and POSITIVISM.\n\n NATURE, 160, 244, 337;\n in Berkeley, 294;\n in Spinoza, 317, 338;\n in Hegel, 363;\n in Kant, 377 ff.;\n in contemporary philosophy, 401.\n Also see NATURAL SCIENCE, and NATURALISM.\n\n NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS, 242.\n\n NECESSITY, of will, 211;\n ethics of, 342;\n religion of, 393.\n\n NEO-FICHTEANS, 402, 403 (_note_).\n\n NEO-KANTIANS, 403.\n\n NEWTON, 232, 235, 242, 355, 377.\n\n NORMATIVE SCIENCES, the, 180.\n\n\n OMAR KHAYYAM, quoted, 16;\n as a philosopher-poet, 36.\n\n ONTOLOGICAL PROOF, of God, 200.\n\n ONTOLOGY, 159.\n\n OPTIMISM, 104, 388, 422, 424.\n\n\n PANPSYCHISM, 176, 238, 285 ff.\n\n PANTHEISM, in primitive religion, 78;\n general meaning, 205;\n types of, 390.\n\n PARKER, THEODORE, quoted on religion, 67.\n\n PARMENIDES, and rationalism, 168;\n philosophy of, 308 ff., 337;\n and Aristotle, 336.\n\n PATER, WALTER, on Wordsworth, 38;\n on Cyrenaicism, 260;\n on subjectivism, 270.\n\n PAULSEN, FRIEDRICH, ethics of, quoted, 302.\n\n PEARSON, KARL, quoted, 230.\n\n PERCEPTION. See SENSE-PERCEPTION.\n\n PERSONAL IDEALISM, 404, 405.\n\n PERSONALITY, of God, important in understanding of religion, 62;\n essential to religion? 108 ff.\n\n PERSONS, description of belief in, 62;\n imagination of, 101, 110.\n\n PESSIMISM, 104, 299, 424.\n\n PHENOMENALISM, general meaning, 176, 267 (_note_);\n of Berkeley, 272, 275 ff.;\n of Hume, 283;\n various tendencies in, 281.\n\n PHILOSOPHER, the practical man and the, chap. i;\n the role of the, 306, 426.\n\n PHILOSOPHY, commonly misconceived, 3;\n of the devotee, 13;\n of the man of affairs, 14;\n of the voluptuary, 16;\n of life, its general meaning, 17 ff., 153;\n its relations with poetry, chap. ii, 112;\n lack of, in Shakespeare, 33;\n as expression of personality, 33;\n as premature, 33;\n in poetry of Omar Khayyam, 36;\n in poetry of Wordsworth, 38 ff.;\n in poetry of Dante, 42 ff.;\n difference between philosophy and poetry, 48 ff.;\n in religion, 108 ff.;\n compared with religion, 112;\n true attitude of, toward science, 116;\n sphere of, in relation to science, 117, 395 ff.;\n procedure of, with reference to science, 121, 135, 142, 154, 160;\n human value of, 143, 426 ff.;\n can its problem be divided? 149, 155;\n origin of, 157;\n special problems of, chap. vi, vii;\n and psychology, 216;\n peculiar object of, 308;\n self-criticism in, 319 ff., 325;\n permanence and progress in, 395 ff.;\n contemporary, 398 ff.\n\n PHYSICAL.\n See CORPOREAL BEING, MATERIALISM, etc.\n\n PHYSIOLOGY, 246.\n\n PIETY, description and interpretation of, 72;\n in ethics, 195.\n\n PLATO, on Protagoras, 167, 269, 270, 298;\n quoted, on Socrates, 170, 192, 194;\n historical preparation for, 324;\n psychology of, 209;\n philosophy of, 306, 318, 326 ff., 382;\n and Aristotle, 333;\n and Spinoza, 318, 335;\n epistemology of, 339;\n ethics of, 342;\n religion of, 346, 391, 393;\n on evil, 352;\n on spirit, 359;\n on reason and perception, 370;\n on the philosopher, 426.\n\n PLURALISM, general meaning of, 159, 163, 419;\n in ethics, 302, 421 ff.;\n in religion, 304.\n\n POETRY, relations with philosophy, chap. ii;\n as appreciation, 25;\n virtue of sincerity in, 27;\n the \"barbarian\" in, 28;\n constructive knowledge in, 30;\n difference between philosophy and, 48 ff.\n\n POSITIVISM, on relation of philosophy and science, 115, 122;\n general meaning of, 168, 234, 252 ff., 412.\n\n PRACTICAL KNOWLEDGE, of means, 8 ff.;\n of end or purpose, 10 ff.;\n implied in religion, 85, 97;\n philosophy as, 153.\n\n PRACTICAL MAN, the, and the philosopher, chap. i;\n his failure to understand philosophy, 3;\n his ideal, 14;\n virtually a philosopher, 22.\n\n PRAGMATISM, 151, 407, 408.\n\n PRAYER, 103.\n\n PREDICTION, in science, 130.\n\n PRESENT DAY, philosophy of the, 398 ff.\n\n PROTAGORAS, scepticism of, 166, 271;\n subjectivism of, 269;\n ethics of, 298.\n\n PSYCHOLOGY, of religion, 58, 82;\n inadequate to religion, 82;\n as branch of philosophy, 208 ff., 216;\n as natural science, 213;\n affiliations of, 215;\n limits of, 415.\n\n PSYCHO-PHYSICAL PARALLELISM, 215, 252.\n\n PURPOSE, in life, 10 ff.;\n adoption of life-purpose, 17 ff.;\n practical significance of, in the world at large, 20.\n Also see TELEOLOGY, IDEAL, etc.\n\n\n QUALITIES, primary and secondary, 254, 274, 277.\n\n\n RATIONALISM, general meaning, 168, 416;\n in logic, 180, 184;\n in ethics, 193;\n of eleatics, 310;\n of Spinoza, 311;\n in absolute realism, 339;\n criticism of, 418.\n\n REALISM, various meanings of term, 173 (_note_);\n meaning of, as theory of knowledge, 172;\n of Parmenides, 308 ff.;\n of Plato and Aristotle, 341;\n of present day, 409 ff.\n\n REASON, 370.\n See RATIONALISM.\n\n RELATIVISM, 166, 267 ff.;\n in ethics, 298.\n\n RELIGION, chaps. iii, iv;\n relation to poetry and philosophy, 49, 52;\n difficulty of defining, 53;\n possibility of defining, 54;\n profitableness of defining, 54;\n true method of defining, 56;\n misconceptions of, 56;\n as possessing the psychological character of belief, 59 ff.;\n degree of, in individuals and moods, 60, 61;\n definition of, as belief in disposition of universe, 64 ff., 82;\n and morality, 73;\n symbolism in, 75;\n prophet and preacher of, 75;\n conveyance of, 76;\n primitive, 77;\n Buddhism, 78;\n the critical or enlightened type of, 80;\n means to be true, 82 ff.;\n implies a practical truth, 85;\n cases of truth and error in, 88 ff.;\n of Baal, 88;\n Greek, 89;\n of Jews, its development, 92;\n Christian, 94;\n definition of cognitive factor in, 97;\n place of imagination in, 80, 97 ff.;\n special functions of imagination in, 101 ff.;\n relation of imagination and truth in, 105;\n philosophy implied in, 108 ff.;\n is personal god essential to, 108;\n compared with philosophy, 112;\n compared with science, 145;\n special philosophical problems of, 199 ff.;\n of naturalism, 263 ff.;\n of subjectivism and spiritualism, 302 ff.;\n of Plato and Aristotle, 346, 393;\n of Stoics and Spinoza, 348, 393;\n philosophy of, in Hegel, 365;\n of absolute idealism, 390 ff.\n\n RELIGIOUS PHENOMENA, interpretation of, 69 ff.\n\n REPRESENTATIVE THEORY, of knowledge, 174, 412.\n\n ROMANTICISM, 361.\n\n ROUSSEAU, quoted on nature, 64.\n\n ROYCE, JOSIAH, quoted on absolute idealism, 178, 384, 394.\n\n\n SANTAYANA, GEORGE, quoted on poetry 28, 29.\n\n SCEPTICISM, 166, 267 ff.\n See under POSITIVISM, and AGNOSTICISM.\n\n SCHELLING, misconception of science, 116.\n\n SCHOLASTICISM, 333;\n idea of God in, 201.\n\n SCHOPENHAUER, his panpsychism or voluntarism, 177, 285 ff.;\n universalizes subjectivism, 290;\n mysticism of, 290;\n ethics of, 299;\n religion of, 303.\n\n SCIENCE.\n Also see under NATURAL SCIENCE, and NORMATIVE SCIENCE.\n\n SECULARISM, of Shakespeare, 34;\n of Periclean Age, 320;\n of present age, 427.\n\n SELF, problem of, 216;\n proof of, in St. Augustine, 372;\n proof of, in Descartes, 374;\n deeper moral of, 387;\n in contemporary philosophy, 411, 413.\n Also see SOUL, and MIND.\n\n SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS, essential to human life, 6;\n development of conception of, 371 ff.;\n in absolute idealism, 383;\n in idealistic ethics, 386.\n\n SENSATIONALISM, 247, 255, 269.\n\n SENSE-PERCEPTION, 168, 247, 269, 370;\n being as, in Berkeley, 281.\n\n SHAKESPEARE, general criticism of, 30 ff.;\n his universality, 31;\n lack of philosophy in, 33.\n\n SHELLEY, quoted on poetry, 50.\n\n SOCIAL RELATIONS, belief inspired by, analogue of religion, 62;\n imagination of, extended to God, 101.\n\n SOCRATES, rationalism of, 169;\n and normative science, 180;\n ethics of, 192, 194;\n method of, 321 ff.\n\n SOPHISTS, the, epistemology of, 165;\n scepticism of, 271, 320;\n ethics of, 298, 301;\n age of, 320.\n\n SOUL, the, in Aristotle, 208;\n in Plato, 209;\n as substance, 209;\n intellectualism and voluntarism in theory of, 210;\n immortality of, 212;\n Berkeley's theory of, 284.\n Also see under MIND, and SELF.\n\n SPACE, importance in science, 130;\n and matter, 229.\n\n SPENCER, 236 (_note_), 243, 265.\n\n SPINOZA, and Goethe, 51;\n quoted on philosophy and life, 153;\n philosophy of, 306, 311 ff.;\n criticism and estimate of, 315 ff.;\n and Plato, 318, 335;\n and Aristotle, 336;\n epistemology of, 339;\n ethics of, 342;\n religion of, 348, 392, 393.\n\n SPIRIT, the absolute, 358 ff.\n\n SPIRITUALISM, general meaning, 176, 267 (_note_);\n in Berkeley, 280, 292;\n in Schopenhauer, 285;\n criticism of, 288;\n objective, 292.\n\n STEVENSON, R. L., quoted on religion, 67.\n\n STOICISM, ethics of, 342;\n religion of, 348.\n\n SUBJECTIVISM, chap. ix;\n general meaning, 175, 218, 267 (_note_), 415;\n in aesthetics, 190;\n of Berkeley, 275 ff.;\n universalization of, in Schopenhauer, 290;\n criticism of, 297, 415;\n ethics of, 298 ff.;\n in absolute idealism, 368;\n of present day, 409.\n\n SUBSTANCE, spiritual, 209, 284;\n material, Berkeley's refutation of, 275 ff.;\n Spinoza's conception of, 311;\n the infinite, in Spinoza, 312;\n Aristotle's conception of, 334;\n Leibniz's conception of, 338.\n\n SYMBOLISM, in religion, 75.\n\n\n TELEOLOGY, in cosmology, 161;\n proof of God from, 204;\n Spinoza on, 318;\n in Plato, 326 ff., 336;\n in Aristotle, 336.\n\n THEISM, 205.\n\n THEOLOGY, relation to religion, 98;\n in philosophy, 199 ff.;\n relation to metaphysics, 207.\n\n THOMSON, J., quoted, 104.\n\n THOUGHT, and life, 6 ff.;\n as being, in Hegel, 361 ff.\n\n THUCYDIDES, on thought and action, 429.\n\n TIME, importance in science, 130.\n\n TRANSCENDENTALISM, 177, 349 (_note_), 356.\n See IDEALISM, absolute.\n\n TYNDALL, 115.\n\n\n UNIVERSAL, scientific knowledge as, 125, 139.\n\n UNIVERSE, the, as object of religious reaction, 64;\n common object of philosophy and religion, 112;\n as collective, 419.\n\n UTILITARIANISM, 261.\n\n\n VIRTUE, 198, 345.\n\n VOLTAIRE, quoted, 231, 251.\n\n VOLUNTARISM, in psychology, 210;\n in Schopenhauer, 285.\n\n\n WHITMAN, WALT, 27 ff.\n\n WILL, in psychology, 210;\n freedom and determination of, 211;\n in Schopenhauer, 177;\n as cause, in Berkeley, 293 ff.;\n in pragmatism, 407.\n\n WORDSWORTH, as philosopher-poet, 38 ff.;\n his sense for the universal, 40;\n quoted on poetry and philosophy, 48, 50.\n\n\n ZENO, 337.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:\n\n\nEllipses match the original.\n\nNumbers in {braces} are subscripted in the original.\n\nThe symbol for section has been replaced by \"Sect.\"\n\nVariations in spelling have been left as in the original.\n\nThe word Phoenix uses an oe ligature in the original.\n\nThe following corrections have been made to the text:\n\n Page xv: CHAPTER VI. METAPHYSICS AND EPISTEMOLOGY{original has\n EPISTOMOLOGY}\n\n Page 70: The psychology{original has pyschology} of conversion\n\n Page 93: him who practices{original has practises} the social\n virtues\n\n Page 165: reality have resulted in no consensus{original has\n concensus} of opinion\n\n Page 196: but in a law to which it{original has its} owes\n obedience\n\n Page 261: 'justice,' 'gratitude,' '{quotation mark missing in\n original}modesty,'\n\n Page 283: retained after their original{original has orignal}\n meaning\n\n Page 288: nothing but the highest development{original has\n devolpment} on our earth\n\n Page 325: philosopher who defined being as{original has a} the\n ideal\n\n Page 405: Henri Bergson: _Essai{original has Essoi} sur les\n donnees immediates de la conscience_\n\n Page 434: THOMAS A{original has acute accent which should be\n grave accent} KEMPIS: _Imitation of Christ._\n\n Page 436: HUXLEY, T. H.: _Evolution and Ethics;\n Prolegomena._{original has Prologomena}\n\n [51:11] Vol. I, p. 60.{period is missing in original}\n\n [199:14] religion in these matters, cf.{original has Cf.}\n Descartes:\n\n [287:16] Translation by Haldane and Kemp{original has Komp}","title":"The Approach to Philosophy","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":98558}