METAPHYSICS AND EPISTEMOLOGY

Sec. The stand-point and purpose of the philosopher define his task, but they do not necessarily prearrange the division of it. That the task is a complex one, embracing many subordinate problems which must be treated seriatim, is attested both by the breadth of its scope and the variety of the interests from which it may be approached. But this complexity is qualified by the peculiar importance which here attaches to unity. That which lends philosophical quality to any reflection is a steadfast adherence to the ideals of inclusiveness and consistency. Hence, though the philosopher must of necessity occupy himself with subordinate problems, these cannot be completely isolated from one another, and solved successively. Perspective is his most indispensable requisite, and he has solved no problem finally until he has provided for the solution of all. His own peculiar conceptions are those which order experience, and reconcile such aspects of it as other interests have distinguished. Hence the compatibility of any idea with all other ideas is the prime test of its philosophical sufficiency. On these grounds it may confidently be asserted that the work of philosophy cannot be assigned by the piece to different specialists, and then assembled. There are no special philosophical problems which can be finally solved upon their own merits. Indeed, such problems could never even be named, for in their discreteness they would cease to be philosophical.

The case of metaphysics and epistemology affords an excellent illustration. The former of these is commonly defined as the theory of reality or of first principles, the latter as the theory of knowledge. But the most distinctive philosophical movement of the nineteenth century issues from the idea that knowing and being are identical. The prime reality is defined as a knowing mind, and the terms of reality are interpreted as terms of a cognitive process. Ideas and logical principles constitute the world. It is evident that in this Hegelian philosophy epistemology embraces metaphysics. In defining the relations of knowledge to its object, one has already defined one’s fundamental philosophical conception, while logic, as the science of the universal necessities of thought, will embrace the first principles of reality. Now, were one to divide and arrange the problems of philosophy upon this basis, it is evident that one would not have deduced the arrangement from the general problem of philosophy, but from a single attempted solution of that problem. It might serve as an exposition of Hegel, but not as a general philosophical programme.

Another case in point is provided by the present-day interest in what is called “pragmatism." This doctrine is historically connected with Kant’s principle of the “primacy of the practical reason,” in which he maintained that the consciousness of duty is a profounder though less scientific insight than the knowledge of objects. The current doctrine maintains that thought with its fruits is an expression of interest, and that the will which evinces and realizes such an interest is more original and significant than that which the thinking defines. Such a view attaches a peculiar importance to the springs of conduct, and in its more systematic development has regarded ethics as the true propaedeutic and proof of philosophy. But to make ethics the key-stone of the arch, is to define a special philosophical system; for it is the very problem of philosophy to dispose the parts of knowledge with a view to systematic construction. The relation of the provinces of metaphysics, epistemology, logic, and ethics cannot, then, be defined without entering these provinces and answering the questions proper to them.

Sec. Since the above terms exist, however, there can be no doubt but that important divisions within the general aim of philosophy have actually been made. The inevitableness of it appears in the variety of the sources from which that aim may spring. The point of departure will always determine the emphasis and the application which the philosophy receives. If philosophy be needed to supplement more special interests, it will receive a particular character from whatever interest it so supplements. He who approaches it from a definite stand-point will find in it primarily an interpretation of that stand-point.

Sec. There are two sources of the philosophical aim, which are perennial in their human significance. He, firstly, who begins with the demands of life and its ideals, looks to philosophy for a reconciliation of these with the orderly procedure of nature. His philosophy will receive its form from its illumination of life, and it will be an ethical or religious philosophy. Spinoza, the great seventeenth-century philosopher who justified mysticism after the manner of mathematics, displays this temper in his philosophy:

“After experience had taught me that all the usual surroundings of social life are vain and futile; seeing that none of the objects of my fears contained in themselves anything either good or bad, except in so far as the mind is affected by them, I finally resolved to inquire whether there might be some real good having power to communicate itself, which would affect the mind singly, to the exclusion of all else: whether, in fact, there might be anything of which the discovery and attainment would enable me to enjoy continuous, supreme, and unending happiness."

In pursuance of this aim, though he deals with the problem of being in the rigorous logical fashion of his day, the final words of his great work are, “Of Human Freedom”:

“Whereas the wise man, in so far as he is regarded as such, is scarcely at all disturbed in spirit, but, being conscious of himself, and of God, and of things, by a certain eternal necessity, never ceases to be, but always possesses true acquiescence of his spirit. If the way which I have pointed out as leading to this result seems exceedingly hard, it may nevertheless be discovered. Needs must it be hard, since it is so seldom found. How would it be possible if salvation were ready to our hand, and could without great labor be found, that it should be by almost all men neglected? But all things excellent are as difficult as they are rare."

Sec. On the other hand, one who looks to philosophy for the extension and correction of scientific knowledge will be primarily interested in the philosophical definition of ultimate conceptions, and in the method wherewith such a definition is obtained. Thus the philosophy of the scientist will tend to be logical and metaphysical. Such is the case with Descartes and Leibniz, who are nevertheless intimately related to Spinoza in the historical development of philosophy.

“Several years have now elapsed,” says the former, “since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful; and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions I had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if I desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences."

Leibniz’s mind was more predominantly logical even than Descartes’s. He sought in philosophy a supreme intellectual synthesis, a science of the universe.

“Although,” he says retrospectively, “I am one of those who have worked much at mathematics, I have none the less meditated upon philosophy from my youth up; for it always seemed to me that there was a possibility of establishing something solid in philosophy by clear demonstrations. . . . I perceived, after much meditation, that it is impossible to find the principles of a real unity in matter alone, or in that which is only passive, since it is nothing but a collection or aggregation of parts ad infinitum."

Sec. Though these types are peculiarly representative, they are by no means exhaustive. There are as many possibilities of emphasis as there are incentives to philosophical reflection. It is not possible to exhaust the aspects of experience which may serve as bases from which such thought may issue, and to which, after its synthetic insight, it may return. But it is evident that such divisions of philosophy represent in their order, and in the sharpness with which they are sundered, the intellectual autobiography of the individual philosopher. There is but one method by which that which is peculiar either to the individual, or to the special position which he adopts, may be eliminated. Though it is impossible to tabulate the empty programme of philosophy, we may name certain special problems that have appeared in its history. Since this history comprehends the activities of many individuals, a general validity attaches to it. There has been, moreover, a certain periodicity in the emergence of these problems, so that it may fairly be claimed for them that they indicate inevitable phases in the development of human reflection upon experience. They represent a normal differentiation of interest which the individual mind, in the course of its own thinking, tends to follow. It is true that it can never be said with assurance that any age is utterly blind to any aspect of experience. This is obviously the case with the practical and theoretical interests which have just been distinguished. There is no age that does not have some practical consciousness of the world as a whole, nor any which does not seek more or less earnestly to universalize its science. But though it compel us to deal abstractly with historical epochs, there is abundant compensation in the possibility which this method affords of finding the divisions of philosophy in the manifestation of the living philosophical spirit.

Sec. To Thales, one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, is commonly awarded the honor of being the founder of European philosophy. If he deserve this distinction, it is on account of the question which he raised, and not on account of the answer which he gave to it. Aristotle informs us that Thales held “water” to be “the material cause of all things." This crude theory is evidently due to an interest in the totality of things, an interest which is therefore philosophical. But the interest of this first philosopher has a more definite character. It looks toward the definition in terms of some single conception, of the constitution of the world. As a child might conceivably think the moon to be made of green cheese, so philosophy in its childhood thinks here of all things as made of water. Water was a well-known substance, possessing well-known predicates. To define all nature in terms of it, was to maintain that in spite of superficial differences, all things have these predicates in common. They are the predicates which qualify for reality, and compose a community of nature from which all the individual objects and events of nature arise. The successors of Thales were evidently dissatisfied with his fundamental conception, because of its lack of generality. They seized upon vaguer substances like air and fire, for the very definiteness of the nature of water forbids the identification of other substances with it. But what is so obviously true of water is scarcely less true of air and fire; and it appeared at length that only a substance possessing the most general characters of body, such as shape, size, and mobility, could be thought as truly primeval and universal. In this wise a conception like our modern physical conception of matter came at length into vogue. Now the problem of which these were all tentative solutions is, in general, the problem of metaphysics; although this term belongs to a later era, arising only from the accidental place of the discussion of first principles after physics in the system of Aristotle. The attempt to secure a most fundamental conception which attaches some definite meaning to the reality including and informing every particular thing, is metaphysics.

Sec. It must not be supposed that metaphysics is dogmatically committed to the reduction of all reality to a unity of nature. It is quite consistent with its purpose that the parts of reality should be found to compose a group, or an indefinite multitude of irreducibly different entities. But it is clear that even such an account of things deals with what is true of all reality, and even in acknowledging the variety of its constituents, attributes to them some kind of relationship. The degree to which such a relationship is regarded as intimate and essential, determines the degree to which any metaphysical system is monistic, rather than pluralistic. But the significance of this difference will be better appreciated after a further differentiation of the metaphysical problem has been noted.

Sec. It has already been suggested that the test of Thales’s conception lay in the possibility of deriving nature from it. A world principle must be fruitful. Now an abstract distinction has prevailed more or less persistently in metaphysics, between the general definition of being, called ontology, and the study of the processes wherewith being is divided into things and events. This latter study has to do primarily with the details of experience enumerated and systematized by the natural sciences. To reconcile these, or the course of nature, with the fundamental definition of being, is the problem of cosmology. Cosmology is the construing of the prima facie reality in terms of the essential reality. It is the proof and the explanation of ontology. Since the most familiar part of the prima facie reality, the part almost exclusively noticed by the naïve mind, is embraced within the field of the physical sciences, the term cosmology has come more definitely to signify the philosophy of nature. It embraces such an examination of space, time, matter, causality, etc., as seeks to answer the most general questions about them, and provide for them in the world thought of as most profoundly real. Such a study receives its philosophical character from its affiliation with ontology, as the latter would find its application in cosmology.

Sec. But in addition to the consideration of the various parts of nature, cosmology has commonly dealt with a radical and far-reaching alternative that appeared at the very dawn of metaphysics. Differences may arise within a world constituted of a single substance or a small group of ultimate substances, by changes in the relative position and grouping of the parts. Hence the virtue of the conception of motion. The theory which explains all differences by motions of the parts of a qualitatively simple world, is called mechanism. Another source of change familiar to naïve experience is will, or the action of living creatures. According to the mechanical theory, changes occur on account of the natural motions of the parts of matter; according to the latter or teleological conception, changes are made by a formative agency directed to some end. Among the early Greek philosophers, Leucippus was an exponent of mechanism.

“He says that the worlds arise when many bodies are collected together into the mighty void from the surrounding space and rush together. They come into collision, and those which are of similar shape and like form become entangled, and from their entanglement the heavenly bodies arise."

Anaxagoras, on the other hand, was famed for his doctrine of the Nous, or Intelligence, to whose direction he attributed the whole process of the world. The following is translated from extant fragments of his book, “+peri physeo:s+”:

“And Nous had power over the whole revolution, so that it began to revolve in the beginning. And it began to revolve first from a small beginning; but the revolution now extends over a larger space, and will extend over a larger still. And all the things that are mingled together and separated off and distinguished are all known by the Nous. And Nous set in order all things that were to be and that were, and all things that are not now and that are, and this revolution in which now revolve the stars and the sun and the moon, and the air and the ether that are separated off."

Sec. It is clear, furthermore, that the doctrine of Anaxagoras not only names a distinct kind of cause, but also ascribes to it an independence and intrinsic importance that do not belong to motion. Whereas motion is a property of matter, intelligence is an originative power working out purposes of its own choosing. Hence we have here to do with a new ontology. If we construe ultimate being in terms of mind, we have a definite substitute for the physical theories outlined above. Such a theory is scarcely to be attributed to any Greek philosopher of the early period; it belongs to a more sophisticated stage in the development of thought, after the rise of the problem of epistemology. But Anaxagoras’s sharp distinction between the material of the world on the one hand, and the author of its order and evolution on the other, is in itself worthy of notice. It contains the germ of a recurrent philosophical dualism, which differs from pluralism in that it finds two and only two fundamental divisions of being, the physical, material, or potential on the one hand, and the mental, formal, or ideal on the other.

Sec. Finally, the alternative possibilities which these cosmological considerations introduce, bear directly upon the general question of the interdependence of the parts of the world, a question which has already appeared as pertinent in ontology. Monism and pluralism now obtain a new meaning. Where the world process is informed with some singleness of plan, as teleology proposes, the parts are reciprocally necessary, and inseparable from the unity. Where, on the other hand, the processes are random and reciprocally fortuitous, as Leucippus proposes, the world as a whole is an aggregate rather than a unity. In this way uniformity in kind of being may prevail in a world the relations of whose parts are due to chance, while diversity in kind of being may prevail in a world knit together by some thorough-going plan of organization. Thus monism and pluralism are conceptions as proper to cosmology as to ontology.

But enough has been said to demonstrate the interdependence of ontology and cosmology, of the theory of being and the theory of differentiation and process. Such problems can be only abstractly sundered, and the distinctive character of any metaphysical system will usually consist in some theory determining their relation. Philosophy returns to these metaphysical problems with its thought enriched and its method complicated, after becoming thoroughly alive to the problems of epistemology, logic, and ethics.

Sec. Epistemology is the theory of the possibility of knowledge, and issues from criticism and scepticism. If we revert again to the history of Greek philosophy, we find a first period of enterprising speculation giving place to a second period of hesitancy and doubt. This phase of thought occurs simultaneously with the brilliantly humanistic age of Pericles, and it is undoubtedly true that energy is withdrawn from speculation largely for the sake of expending it in the more lively and engaging pursuits of politics and art. But there are patent reasons within the sphere of philosophy itself for entailment of activity and taking of stock. For three centuries men have taken their philosophical powers for granted, and used them without questioning them. Repeated attacks upon the problem of reality have resulted in no consensus of opinion, but only in a disagreement among the wise men themselves. A great variety of mere theories has been substituted for the old unanimity of religious tradition and practical life. It is natural under these circumstances to infer that in philosophy man has overreached himself. He would more profitably busy himself with affairs that belong to his own sphere, and find a basis for life in his immediate relations with his fellows. The sophists, learned in tradition, and skilled in disputation, but for the most part entirely lacking in originality, are the new prophets. As teachers of rhetoric and morals, they represent the practical and secular spirit of their age; while in their avoidance of speculation, and their critical justification of that course, they express its sceptical philosophy.

Sec. In their self-justification certain of the sophists attached themselves to a definite doctrine maintained by those of their predecessors and contemporaries who were atomists, or followers of that same Leucippus whom we have quoted. This doctrine was the result of an attempt to construe perception in terms of the motion of atoms. Outer objects were said to give off fine particles which, through the mediation of the sense organs, impinged upon the soul-atom. But it was evident even to the early exponents of this theory that according to such an account, each perceiver is relegated to a world peculiar to his own stand-point. His perception informs him concerning his own states as affected by things, rather than concerning the things themselves. Upon this ground the great sophist Protagoras is said to have based his dictum: +Panto:n chre:mato:n metron anthro:pos+, “Man is the measure of all things.” This is the classic statement of the doctrine of relativity. But we have now entered into the province of epistemology, and various alternatives confront us. Reduce thought to perception, define perception as relative to each individual, and you arrive at scepticism, or the denial of the possibility of valid knowledge. Plato expounds this consequence in the well-known discussion of Protagoras that occurs in the “Theaetetus.”

“I am charmed with his doctrine, that what appears is to each one, but I wonder that he did not begin his book on Truth with a declaration that a pig or a dog-faced baboon, or some other yet stranger monster which has sensation, is the measure of all things; then he might have shown a magnificent contempt for our opinion of him by informing us at the outset that while we were reverencing him like a God for his wisdom, he was no better than a tadpole, not to speak of his fellow-men would not this have produced an overpowering effect? For if truth is only sensation, and no man can discern another’s feelings better than he, or has any superior right to determine whether his opinion is true or false, but each, as we have several times repeated, is to himself the sole judge, and everything that he judges is true and right, why, my friend, should Protagoras be preferred to the place of wisdom and instruction, and deserve to be well paid, and we poor ignoramuses have to go to him, if each one is the measure of his own wisdom? . . . The attempt to supervise or refute the notions or opinions of others would be a tedious and enormous piece of folly, if to each man his own are right; and this must be the case if Protagoras’s Truth is the real truth, and the philosopher is not merely amusing himself by giving oracles out of the shrine of his book."

This is the full swing of the pendulum from dogmatism, or the uncritical conviction of truth. A modified form of scepticism has been developed in these later days under the influence of natural science, and is called agnosticism or positivism. It accepts the Protagorean doctrine only in the sense of attributing to human knowledge as a whole an incapacity for exceeding the range of perception. Beyond this realm of natural science, where theories can be sensibly verified, lies the unknowable realm, more real, but forever inaccessible.

Sec. It is important to note that both scepticism and agnosticism agree in regarding perception as the essential factor in knowledge. So far at any rate as our knowledge is concerned, the certification of being consists in perceivability. Knowledge is coextensive with actual and possible human experience. This account of the source and criterion of knowledge is called empiricism, in distinction from the counter-theory of rationalism.

The rationalistic motive was a quickening influence in Greek philosophy long before it became deliberate and conspicuous in Socrates and Plato. Parmenides, founder of the Eleatic School, has left behind him a poem divided into two parts: “The Way of Truth” and “The Way of Opinion." In the first of these he expounds his esoteric philosophy, which is a definition of being established by dialectical reasoning. He finds that being must be single, eternal, and changeless, because otherwise it cannot be thought and defined without contradiction. The method which Parmenides here employs presupposes that knowledge consists in understanding rather than perception. Indeed, he regards the fact that the world of the senses is manifold and mutable as of little consequence to the wise man. The world of sense is the province of vulgar opinion, while that of reason is the absolute truth revealed only to the philosopher. The truth has no concern with appearance, but is answerable only to the test of rationality. That world is real which one is able by thinking to make intelligible. The world is what a world must be in order to be possible at all, and the philosopher can deduce it directly from the very conditions of thought which it must satisfy. He who would know reality may disregard what seems to be, provided he can by reflective analysis discover certain general necessities to which being must conform. This is rationalism in its extreme form.

The rationalism of Socrates was more moderate, as it was more fruitful than that of Parmenides. As is well known, Socrates composed no philosophical books, but sought to inculcate wisdom in his teaching and conversation. His method of inculcating wisdom was to evoke it in his interlocutor by making him considerate of the meaning of his speech. Through his own questions he sought to arouse the questioning spirit, which should weigh the import of words, and be satisfied with nothing short of a definite and consistent judgment. In the Platonic dialogues the Socratic method obtains a place in literature. In the “Theaetetus,” which is, perhaps, the greatest of all epistemological treatises, Socrates is represented as likening his vocation to that of the midwife.

“Well, my art of midwifery is in most respects like theirs, but differs in that I attend men, and not women, and I look after their souls when they are in labor, and not after their bodies: and the triumph of my art is in thoroughly examining whether the thought which the mind of the young man brings forth is a false idol or a noble and true birth. And, like the midwives, I am barren, and the reproach which is often made against me, that I ask questions of others and have not the wit to answer them myself, is very just; the reason is that the god compels me to be a midwife, but does not allow me to bring forth. And therefore I am not myself at all wise, nor have I anything to show which is the invention or birth of my own soul, but those who converse with me profit. . . . It is quite clear that they never learned anything from me; the many fine discoveries to which they cling are of their own making."

The principle underlying this method is the insistence that a proposition, to be true of reality, must at least bespeak a mind that is true to itself, internally luminous, and free from contradiction. That which is to me nothing that I can express in form that will convey precise meaning and bear analysis, is so far nothing at all. Being is not, as the empiricist would have it, ready at hand, ours for the looking, but is the fruit of critical reflection. Only reason, overcoming the relativity of perception, and the chaos of popular opinion, can lay hold on the universal truth.

A very interesting tendency to clothe the articulations of thought with the immediacy of perception is exhibited in mysticism, which attributes the highest cognitive power to an experience that transcends thought, an ineffable insight that is the occasional reward of thought and virtuous living. This theory would seem to owe its great vigor to the fact that it promises to unite the universality of the rational object with the vivid presence of the empirical object, though it sacrifices the definite content of both. The mystic, empiricist, and rationalist are in these several ways led to revise their metaphysics upon the basis of their epistemology, or to define reality in terms dictated by the means of knowing it.

Sec. But within the general field of epistemology there has arisen another issue of even greater significance in its bearing upon metaphysics. The first issue, as we have seen, has reference to the criterion of knowledge, to the possibility of arriving at certainty about reality, and the choice of means to that end. A second question arises, concerning the relation between the knowledge and its object or that which is known. This problem does not at first appear as an epistemological difficulty, but is due to the emphasis which the moral and religious interests of men give to the conception of the self. My knowing is a part of me, a function of that soul whose welfare and eternal happiness I am seeking to secure. Indeed, my knowing is, so the wise men have always taught, the greatest of my prerogatives. Wisdom appertains to the philosopher, as folly to the fool. But though my knowledge be a part of me, and in me, the same cannot, lightly at any rate, be said of what I know. It would seem that I must distinguish between the knowledge, which is my act or state, an event in my life, and the known, which is object, and belongs to the context of the outer world. The object of knowledge would then be quite independent of the circumstance that I know it. This theory has acquired the name of realism, and is evidently as close to common sense as any epistemological doctrine can be said to be. If the knowledge consists in some sign or symbol which in my mind stands for the object, but is quite other than the object, realism is given the form known as the representative theory. This theory is due to a radical distinction between the inner world of consciousness and the outer world of things, whereby in knowledge the outer object requires a substitute that is qualified to belong to the inner world. Where, on the other hand, no specific and exclusive nature is attributed to the inner world, realism may flourish without the representative theory. In such a case the object would be regarded as itself capable of entering into any number of individual experiences or of remaining outside them all, and without on either account forfeiting its identity. This view was taken for granted by Plato, but is elaborately defended in our own day. During the intervening period epistemology has been largely occupied with difficulties inherent in the representative theory, and from that discussion there has emerged the theory of idealism, the great rival theory to that of realism.

Sec. The representative theory contains at least one obvious difficulty. If the thinker be confined to his ideas, and if the reality be at the same time beyond these ideas, how can he ever verify their report? Indeed, what can it mean that an idea should be true of that which belongs to a wholly different category? How under such circumstances can that which is a part of the idea be attributed with any certainty to the object? Once grant that you know only your ideas, and the object reduces to an unknown x, which you retain to account for the outward pointing or reference of the ideas, but which is not missed if neglected. The obvious though radical theory of idealism is almost inevitably the next step. Why assume that there is any object other than the state of mind, since all positive content belongs to that realm? The eighteenth century English philosopher, Bishop Berkeley, was accused by his contemporaries of wilful eccentricity, and even madness, for his boldness in accepting this argument and drawing this conclusion:

“The table I write on I say exists; that is, I see and feel it: and if I were out of my study I should say it existed; meaning thereby that if I was in my study I might perceive it, or that some other spirit actually does perceive it. There was an odor that is, it was smelt; there was a sound that is, it was heard; a color or figure, and it was perceived by sight or touch. This is all that I can understand by these and the like expressions. For as to what is said of the absolute existence of unthinking things, without any relation to their being perceived, that is to me perfectly unintelligible. Their esse is percipi; nor is it possible that they should have any existence out of the minds or thinking thing which perceives them."

Sec. In this paragraph Berkeley maintains that it is essential to things, or at any rate to their qualities, that they be perceived. This principle when expressed as an epistemological or metaphysical generalization, is called phenomenalism. But in another phase of his thought Berkeley emphasizes the perceiver, or spirit. The theory which maintains that the only real substances are these active selves, with their powers and their states, has been called somewhat vaguely by the name of spiritualism. Philosophically it shows a strong tendency to develop into either panpsychism or transcendentalism. The former is radically empirical. Its classic representative is the German pessimist Schopenhauer, who defined reality in terms of will because that term signified to him most eloquently the directly felt nature of the self. This immediate revelation of the true inwardness of being serves as the key to an “intuitive interpretation” of the gradations of nature, and will finally awaken a sense of the presence of the universal Will.

Sec. Transcendentalism, or absolute idealism, on the other hand, emphasizes the rational activity, rather than the bare subjectivity, of the self. The term “transcendental” has become associated with this type of idealism through Kant, whose favorite form of argument, the “transcendental deduction,” was an analysis of experience with a view to discovering the categories, or formal principles of thought, implied in its meaning. From the Kantian method arose the conception of a standard or absolute mind for the standard experience. This mind is transcendental not in the sense of being alien, but in the sense of exceeding the human mind in the direction of what this means and strives to be. It is the ideal or normal mind, in which the true reality is contained, with all the chaos of finite experience compounded and redeemed. There is no being but the absolute, the one all-inclusive spiritual life, in whom all things are inherent, and whose perfection is the virtual implication of all purposive activities.

“God’s life . . . sees the one plan fulfilled through all the manifold lives, the single consciousness winning its purpose by virtue of all the ideas, of all the individual selves, and of all the lives. No finite view is wholly illusory. Every finite intent taken precisely in its wholeness is fulfilled in the Absolute. The least life is not neglected, the most fleeting act is a recognized part of the world’s meaning. You are for the divine view all that you know yourself at this instant to be. But you are also infinitely more. The preciousness of your present purposes to yourself is only a hint of that preciousness which in the end links their meaning to the entire realm of Being."

The fruitfulness of the philosopher’s reflective doubt concerning his own powers is now evident. Problems are raised which are not merely urgent in themselves, but which present wholly new alternatives to the metaphysician. Rationalism and empiricism, realism and idealism, are doctrines which, though springing from the epistemological query concerning the possibility of knowledge, may determine an entire philosophical system. They bear upon every question of metaphysics, whether the fundamental conception of being, or the problems of the world’s unity, origin, and significance for human life.

The term idealism is sometimes applied to Plato on account of his designation of ideas as the ultimate realities. This would be a natural use of the term, but in our own day it has become inseparably associated with the doctrine which attributes to being a dependence upon the activity of mind. It is of the utmost importance to keep these two meanings clear. In the preferred sense Plato is a realist, and so opposed to idealism.

The term idealism is further confused on account of its employment in literature and common speech to denote the control of ideals. Although this is a kindred meaning, the student of philosophy will gain little or no help from it, and will avoid confusion if he distinguishes the term in its technical use and permits it in that capacity to acquire an independent meaning.