To naturalism and idealism have latterly been added pragmatism' and the new 'realism.' Whether these more recent tendencies represent the philosophy “ qui commence," and naturalism and idealism the philosophy "qui finit," will be certainly known only by those of a later generation. At present they enjoy no such prestige as is enjoyed by their rivals. Naturalism derives credit from the triumphs of science, idealism from the loyalties and hopes of religion. Both pragmatism and realism, furthermore, have begun as revolts, and the very vigor of their protest testifies to the strength of the resistance which they must overcome. But there can be no doubt of their virility, and of their capacity for growth. Pragmatism and realism are agreed in opposing both the narrowness of naturalism and the extravagance of idealism. Both seek to unite the empirical temper of the former with the latter's recognition of problems that lie outside the field of the positive sciences. They accept neither the finality of physical fact nor the validity of the ideal of the absolute. Their differences are scarcely less striking than their agreement, and may in the end drive them far apart. Pragmatism is primarily concerned to dispute the monistic and transcendental elements of idealism, and to construe life and thought in terms of that human life and thought that may be brought directly under observation, and studied without resort to dialectic. But life and thought remain the central topic of inquiry, and tend without sufficient warrant to usurp the centre of being. In short, pragmatism is never far removed from that dogmatic anthropomorphism, that instinctive or arbitrary adoption of the standpoint of practical belief, that is so central a motive in idealism. Realism, on the other hand, reacts not only against absolutism, but against anthropomorphism as well. Realism departs more radically from idealism than does pragmatism. Were the dilemma a real one, pragmatism would find more in common with idealism, and realism with natu ralism. For realism, like naturalism, detaches itself from life, and attempts to see things in their native colors through a transparent medium. But the dilemma is unnecessary. It proves possible to be both empirical and rigorous after the manner of science, and also emancipated from exclusive regard for physical fact. And it is this possibility that defines the opportunity of realism. There are exact methods other than those of manual experimentation; there are other entities than bodies; and other types of relation and determination than those of physics. There is room, as we have seen, for a philosophy that shall search beyond the limits of science for the solution of those problems which underlie religious faith. Philosophy is rightly held responsible for the solution of these problems; if not in the form of verified certainty, then at least in the form of the most reasonable probability. But as in the case of science, so here also, that theory will best serve life which abstracts from life. The profit of religion, like the success of any worldly enterprise, is conditioned by the truth of the presuppositions, the correctness of the adaptation, on which it proceeds. What nature will not tolerate, nature cannot be made to tolerate through any sheer assumption of superiority. Hence to cherish illusions is to buy a subjective satisfaction at the cost of real failure. To know the worst, if such it be, is as important as to know the best; and incomparably more important than to dream the best. Religion is no exception to the rule that man conquers his environment, and moulds it into good, through forgetting his fears and renouncing his hopes, until he shall have disciplined himself to see coolly and steadily. For what he then sees becomes thereafter the means through which his fears are banished and his hopes fulfilled. It is necessary that human passions should be expressed, but their expression is not the function of philosophy. It is necessary to instruct 1 Thus Bergson the pragmatist has much in common with a voluntaristic idealism; and the realist, B. Russell, approaches naturalism. Cf. below, pp. 345-347. human passions, to illuminate and guide them by knowledge. But even this is not the first function of philosophy. For the philosopher's is the prior task of seeking that knowledge itself from which the passions may derive their light and guidance. ralism.1 For realism, like naturalism, detaches itself from life, and attempts to see things in their native colors through a transparent medium. But the dilemma is unnecessary. It proves possible to be both empirical and rigorous after the manner of science, and also emancipated from exclusive regard for physical fact. And it is this possibility that defines the opportunity of realism. There are exact methods other than those of manual experimentation; there are other entities than bodies; and other types of relation and determination than those of physics. There is room, as we have seen, for a philosophy that shall search beyond the limits of science for the solution of those problems which underlie religious faith. Philosophy is rightly held responsible for the solution of these problems; if not in the form of verified certainty, then at least in the form of the most reasonable probability. But as in the case of science, so here also, that theory will best serve life which abstracts from life. The profit of religion, like the success of any worldly enterprise, is conditioned by the truth of the presuppositions, the correctness of the adaptation, on which it proceeds. What nature will not tolerate, nature cannot be made to tolerate through any sheer assumption of superiority. Hence to cherish illusions is to buy a subjective satisfaction at the cost of real failure. To know the worst, if such it be, is as important as to know the best; and incomparably more important than to dream the best. Religion is no exception to the rule that man conquers his environment, and moulds it into good, through forgetting his fears and renouncing his hopes, until he shall have disciplined himself to see coolly and steadily. For what he then sees becomes thereafter the means through which his fears are banished and his hopes fulfilled. It is necessary that human passions should be expressed, but their expression is not the function of philosophy. It is necessary to instruct 1 Thus Bergson the pragmatist has much in common with a voluntaristic idealism; and the realist, B. Russell, approaches naturalism. Cf. below, pp. 345-347. |