On the Philosophy of Discovery, Chapters Historical and Critical

12. But here, as before, we have another conclusion suggested to us. We are, by the considerations just now spoken of, led to believe that, in the Divine administration of the world is an administration of perfect Justice;—that is, such is the Divine Administration in the end and on the whole, taking into account the whole of the providential history of the world. But the course of the world, taking into account only what happens to man in this present life, is not, we may venture to say, a complete and entire administration of justice. It often happens that injustice is successful and triumphant, even in the end, so far as the end is seen here. It happens that wrong is done, and is not remedied or punished. It happens that blameless and virtuous men are subjected to pain, grief, violence, and oppression, and are not protected, extricated, or avenged. In the affairs of this world, the prevalence of injustice and wrong-doing is so apparent, as to be a common subject of complaint: and though the complaint may be exaggerated, and though a calm and comprehensive view may often discern compensating and remedial influences which are not visible at first sight, still we cannot regard the lot of happiness or misery which falls to each man in this world and this life as apportioned according to a scheme of perfect and universal justice, such as in our thoughts we cannot but require the Divine administration to be.

13. Here then we are again led to the same conviction by regarding the Divine administration of the world as the realization of the Divine Justice, to which we were before led by regarding it as the realization of the Divine Love. Since the Idea is not fully or completely realized in man's life in this present world, this present world cannot be the whole of the Divine Administration. To complete the realization of the Idea of Justice, as an element of the Divine Administration, there must be a life of man after his life in this present world. If man's mind and soul, the part of him which is susceptible of happiness and misery, survive this present life, and be still subject to the Divine Administration, the Idea of Divine Justice may still be completely realized, notwithstanding all that here looks like injustice or defective justice; and it belongs to the Idea of Justice to remedy and compensate, not to prevent wrong. And thus by this supposition of a Future State of man's existence, we are enabled to conceive that, in the whole of the Divine Government of the universe, all seeming injustice and wrong may be finally corrected and rectified, in an ultimate and universal establishment of a reign of perfect Righteousness.

14. Admitting the view thus presented, we may again discern a remarkable analogy between what we have called our physical Ideas (those of Space, Time, Cause, Substance, and the like), and our moral Ideas, (those of Benevolence, Justice, &c.). In both classes we must suppose that our human Ideas represent, though very incompletely and at an immeasurable distance, the Divine Ideas. Even our physical Ideas, when pursued to their consequences, are involved in a perplexity and confusion from which the Divine Ideas are free. Our Ideas of Benevolence and Justice are still more full of imperfections and inconsistency, when we would frame them into a complete scheme, and yet from such imperfections and inconsistency we must suppose that the Divine Benevolence and Justice are exempt. Our physical Ideas we find in every case exactly exemplified and realized in the universe, and we account for this by considering that they are the Divine Ideas, on which the universe is constituted. Our moral Ideas, the Ideas of Benevolence and Justice in particular, must also be realized in the universe, as a scheme of Divine Government. But they are not realized in the world as constituted of man living this present life. The Divine Scheme of the world, therefore, extends beyond this present life of man. If we could include in our survey the future life as well as the present life of man, and the future course of the Divine Government, we should have a scheme of the Moral Government of the universe, in which the Ideas of Perfect Benevolence and Perfect Justice are as completely and universally exemplified and realized, as the Ideas of Space, Time, Cause, Substance, and the like, are in the physical universe.

15. There is one other remark bearing upon this analogy, which seems to deserve our attention. As I have said in the last chapter, the scheme of the world, as governed by our physical Ideas, seems to point to a Beginning of the world, or at least of the present course of the world: and if we suppose a Beginning, our thoughts naturally turn to an End. But if our physical Ideas point to a Beginning and suggest an End, do our Ideas of Divine Benevolence and Justice in any way lend themselves to this suggestion?—Perhaps we might venture to say that in some degree they do, even to the eye of a mere philosophical reason. Perhaps our reason alone might suggest that there is a progression in the human race, in various moral attributes—in art, in civilization, and even in humanity and in justice, which implies a beginning. And that at any rate there is nothing inconsistent with our Idea of the Divine Government in the supposition that the history of this world has a Beginning, a Middle and an End.

16. If therefore there should be conveyed to us by some channel especially appropriated to the communication and development of moral and religious Ideas, the knowledge that the world, as a scheme of Divine Government, has a Beginning, a Middle, and an End, of a Kind, or at least, invested with circumstances quite different from any which our physical Ideas can disclose to us, there would be, in such a belief, nothing at all inconsistent with the analogies which our philosophy—the philosophy of our Ideas illustrated by the whole progress of science—has impressed upon us. On the grounds of this philosophy, we need find no difficulty in believing that as the visible universe exhibits the operation of the Divine Ideas of Space, Time, Cause, Substance, and the like, and discloses to us traces of a Beginning of the present mode of operation, so the moral universe exhibits to us the operation of the Divine Benevolence and Justice; and that these Divine attributes wrought in a special and peculiar manner in the Beginning; interposed in a peculiar and special manner in the Middle; and will again act in a peculiar and special manner in the End of the world. And thus the conditions of the physical universe, and the Government of the Moral world, are both, though in different ways, a part of the work which God is carrying on from the Beginning of things to the End—opus quod Deus operator a principio usque ad finem.

17. We are led by such analogies as I have been adducing to believe that the whole course of events in which the minds and souls of men survive the present life, and are hereafter subjected to the Divine government in such a way as to complete all that is here deficient in the world's history, is a scheme of perfect Benevolence and Justice. Now, can we discern in man's mind or soul itself any indication of a destiny like this? Are there in us any powers and faculties which seem as if they were destined to immortality? If there be, we have in such faculties a strong confirmation of that belief in the future life of man which has already been suggested to us as necessary to render the Divine government conceivable.

18. According to our philosophy there are powers and faculties which do thus seem fitted to endure, and not fitted to terminate and be extinguished. The Ideas which we have in our minds—the physical Ideas, as we have called them, according to which the universe is constituted,—agree, as far as they go, with the Ideas of the Divine Mind, seen in the constitution of the universe. But these Divine Ideas are eternal and imperishable: we therefore naturally conclude that the human mind which includes such elements, is also eternal and imperishable. Since the mind can take hold of eternal truths, it must be itself eternal. Since it is, to a certain extent, the image of God in its faculties, it cannot ever cease to be the image of God. When it has arrived at a stage in which it sees several aspects of the universe in the same form in which they present themselves to the Divine Mind, we cannot suppose that the Author of the human mind will allow it and all its intellectual light to be extinguished.

19. And our conviction that this extinction of the human mind cannot take place becomes stronger still, when we consider that the mind, however imperfect and scanty its discernment of truth may be, is still capable of a vast, and even of an unlimited progress in the pursuit and apprehension of truth. The mind is capable of accepting and appropriating, through the action of its own Ideas, every step in science which has ever been made—every step which shall hereafter be made. Can we suppose that this vast and boundless capacity exists for a few years only, is unfolded only into a few of its simplest consequences, and is then consigned to annihilation? Can we suppose that the wonderful powers which carry man on, generation by generation, from the contemplation of one great and striking truth to another, are buried with each generation? May we not rather suppose that that mind, which is capable of indefinite progression, is allowed to exist in an infinite duration, during which such progression may take place?

20. I propose this argument as a ground of hope and satisfactory reflexion to those who love to dwell on the natural arguments for the Immortality of the Soul. I do not attempt to follow it into detail. I know too well how little such a cause can gain by obstinate and complicated argumentation, to attempt to urge the argument in that manner: and probably different persons, among those who accept the argument as valid, would give different answers to many questions of detail, which naturally arise out of the acceptance of this argument. I will not here attempt to solve, or even to propound these questions. My main purpose in offering these views and this argument at all, is to give some satisfaction to those who would think it a sad and blank result of this long survey of the nature and progress of science in which we have been so long engaged (through this series of works), that it should in no way lead to a recognition of the Author of that world about which our Science is, and to the high and consolatory hopes which lift man beyond this world. No survey of the universe can be at all satisfactory to thoughtful men, which has not a theological bearing; nor can any view of man's powers and means of knowing be congenial to such men, which does not recognize an infinite destination for the mind which has an infinite capacity; an eternal being of the Faculty which can take a steady hold of eternal being.

21. And as we may derive such a conviction from our physical Ideas, so too may we no less from our moral Ideas. Our minds apprehend Space and Time and Force and the like, as Ideas which are not dependent on the body; and hence we believe that our minds shall not perish with our bodies. And in the same manner our souls conceive pure Benevolence and perfect Justice, which go beyond the conditions of this mortal life; and hence we believe that our souls have to do with a life beyond this mortal life.

It is more difficult to speak of man's indefinite moral progression even than of his indefinite intellectual progression. Yet in every path of moral speculation we have such a progression suggested to us. We may begin, for instance, with the ordinary feelings and affections of our daily nature:—Love, Hate, Scorn. But when we would elevate the Soul in our imagination, we ascend above these ordinary affections, and take the repulsive and hostile ones as fitted only to balance their own influences. And thus the poet, speaking of a morally poetical nature, describes it:

 
The Poet in a golden clime was born,
With golden stars above.
He felt the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,
The love of love.
 

But the loftier moralist can rise higher than this, and can, and will, reject altogether Hate and Scorn from his view of man's better nature. His description would rather be—

 
The good man in a loving clime was born,
With loving stars above.
He felt sorrow for hate, pity for scorn,
And love of love.
 

He would, in his conception of such a character, ascribe to it all the virtues which result from the control and extinction of these repulsive and hostile affections:—the virtues of magnanimity, forgivingness, unselfishness, self-devotion, tenderness, sweetness. And these we can conceive in a higher and higher degree, in proportion as our own hearts become tender, forgiving, pure and unselfish. And though in every human stage of such a moral proficiency, we must suppose that there is still some struggle with the remaining vestiges of our unkind, unjust, angry and selfish affections, we can see no limit to the extent to which this struggle may be successful; no limit to the degree in which these traces of the evil of our nature may be worn out by an enduring practice and habit of our better nature. And when we contemplate a human character which has, through a long course of years, and through many trials and conflicts, made a large progress in this career of melioration, and is still capable, if time be given, of further progress towards moral perfection, is it not reasonable to suppose that He who formed man capable of such progress, and who, as we must needs believe, looks with approval on such progress where made, will not allow the progress to stop when it has gone on to the end of man's short earthly life? Is it not rather reasonable to suppose that the pure and elevated and all-embracing affection, extinguishing all vices and including all virtues, to which the good man thus tends, shall continue to prevail in him as a permanent and ever-during condition, in a life after this?

But can man raise himself to such a stage of moral progress, by his own efforts? Such a progress is an approximation towards the perfection of moral Ideas, and therefore an approximation towards the image of God, in whom that perfection resides: is it not then reasonable to suppose that man needs a Divine Influence to enable him to reach this kind of moral completeness? And is it not also reasonable to suppose that, as he needs such aid, in order that the Idea of his moral progress may be realized, so he will receive such aid from the Divine Power which realizes the Idea of Divine Love in the world; and to do so, must realize it in those human souls which are most fitted for such a purpose?

But these questions remind me how difficult, and indeed, how impossible it is to follow such trains of reflexion by the light of philosophy alone. To answer such questions, we need, not Religious Philosophy only, but Religion: and as I do not here venture beyond the domain of philosophy, I must, however abruptly, conclude.

THE END

APPENDIX

Appendix A

OF THE PLATONIC THEORY OF IDEAS

(Cam. Phil. Soc. Nov. 10, 1856.)

Though Plato has, in recent times, had many readers and admirers among our English scholars, there has been an air of unreality and inconsistency about the commendation which most of these professed adherents have given to his doctrines. This appears to be no captious criticism, for instance, when those who speak of him as immeasurably superior in argument to his opponents, do not venture to produce his arguments in a definite form as able to bear the tug of modern controversy;—when they use his own Greek phrases as essential to the exposition of his doctrines, and speak as if these phrases could not be adequately rendered in English;—and when they assent to those among the systems of philosophy of modern times which are the most clearly opposed to the system of Plato. It seems not unreasonable to require, on the contrary, that if Plato is to supply a philosophy for us, it must be a philosophy which can be expressed in our own language;—that his system, if we hold it to be well founded, shall compel us to deny the opposite systems, modern as well as ancient;—and that, so far as we hold Plato's doctrines to be satisfactorily established, we should be able to produce the arguments for them, and to refute the arguments against them. These seem reasonable requirements of the adherents of any philosophy, and therefore, of Plato's.

I regard it as a fortunate circumstance, that we have recently had presented to us an exposition of Plato's philosophy which does conform to those reasonable conditions; and we may discuss this exposition with the less reserve, since its accomplished author, though belonging to this generation, is no longer alive. I refer to the Lectures on the History of Ancient Philosophy, by the late Professor Butler of Dublin. In these Lectures, we find an account of the Platonic Philosophy which shows that the writer had considered it as, what it is, an attempt to solve large problems, which in all ages force themselves upon the notice of thoughtful men. In Lectures VIII. and X., of the Second Series, especially, we have a statement of the Platonic Theory of Ideas, which may be made a convenient starting point for such remarks as I wish at present to make. I will transcribe this account; omitting, as I do so, the expressions which Professor Butler uses, in order to present the theory, not as a dogmatical assertion, but as a view, at least not extravagant. For this purpose, he says, of the successive portions of the theory, that one is "not too absurd to be maintained;" that another is "not very extravagant either;" that a third is "surely allowable;" that a fourth presents "no incredible account" of the subject; that a fifth is "no preposterous notion in substance, and no unwarrantable form of phrase." Divested of these modest formulæ, his account is as follows: [Vol. II. p. 117.]

"Man's soul is made to contain not merely a consistent scheme of its own notions, but a direct apprehension of real and eternal laws beyond it. These real and eternal laws are things intelligible, and not things sensible.

"These laws impressed upon creation by its Creator, and apprehended by man, are something distinct equally from the Creator and from man, and the whole mass of them may fairly be termed the World of Things Intelligible.

"Further, there are qualities in the supreme and ultimate Cause of all, which are manifested in His creation, and not merely manifested, but, in a manner—after being brought out of his super-essential nature into the stage of being [which is] below him, but next to him—are then by the causative act of creation deposited in things, differencing them one from the other, so that the things partake of them (μετέχουσι), communicate with them (κοινωνοῦσι).

"The intelligence of man, excited to reflection by the impressions of these objects thus (though themselves transitory) participant of a divine quality, may rise to higher conceptions of the perfections thus faintly exhibited; and inasmuch as these perfections are unquestionably real existences, and known to be such in the very act of contemplation,—this may be regarded as a direct intellectual apperception of them,—a Union of the Reason with the Ideas in that sphere of being which is common to both.

"Finally, the Reason, in proportion as it learns to contemplate the Perfect and Eternal, desires the enjoyment of such contemplations in a more consummate degree, and cannot be fully satisfied, except in the actual fruition of the Perfect itself.

"These suppositions, taken together, constitute the Theory of Ideas."

In remarking upon the theory thus presented, I shall abstain from any discussion of the theological part of it, as a subject which would probably be considered as unsuited to the meetings of this Society, even in its most purely philosophical form. But I conceive that it will not be inconvenient, if it be not wearisome, to discuss the Theory of Ideas as an attempt to explain the existence of real knowledge; which Prof. Butler very rightly considers as the necessary aim of this and cognate systems of philosophy³²¹.

I conceive, then, that one of the primary objects of Plato's Theory of Ideas is, to explain the existence of real knowledge, that is, of demonstrated knowledge, such as the propositions of geometry offer to us. In this view, the Theory of Ideas is one attempt to solve a problem, much discussed in our times, What is the ground of geometrical truth? I do not mean that this is the whole object of the Theory, or the highest of its claims. As I have said, I omit its theological bearings; and I am aware that there are passages in the Platonic Dialogues, in which the Ideas which enter into the apprehension and demonstration of geometrical truths are spoken of as subordinate to Ideas which have a theological aspect. But I have no doubt that one of the main motives to the construction of the Theory of Ideas was, the desire of solving the Problem, "How is it possible that man should apprehend necessary and eternal truths?" That the truths are necessary, makes them eternal, for they do not depend on time; and that they are eternal, gives them at once a theological bearing.

That Plato, in attempting to explain the nature and possibility of real knowledge, had in his mind geometrical truths, as examples of such knowledge is, I think, evident from the general purport of his discourses on such subjects. The advance of Greek geometry into a conspicuous position, at the time when the Heraclitean sect were proving that nothing could be proved and nothing could be known, naturally suggested mathematical truth as the refutation of the skepticism of mere sensation. On the one side it was said, we can know nothing except by our sensations; and that which we observe with our senses is constantly changing; or at any rate, may change at any moment. On the other hand it was said, we do know geometrical truths, and as truly as we know them, that they cannot change. Plato was quite alive to the lesson, and to the importance of this kind of truths. In the Meno and in the Phædo he refers to them, as illustrating the nature of the human mind: in the Republic and the Timæus he again speaks of truths which far transcend anything which the senses can teach, or even adequately exemplify. The senses, he argues in the Theætetus, cannot give us the knowledge which we have; the source of it must therefore be in the mind itself; in the Ideas which it possesses. The impressions of sense are constantly varying, and incapable of giving any certainty: but the Ideas on which real truth depends are constant and invariable, and the certainty which arises from these is firm and indestructible. Ideas are the permanent, perfect objects, with which the mind deals when it contemplates necessary and eternal truths. They belong to a region superior to the material world, the world of sense. They are the objects which make up the furniture of the Intelligible World; with which the Reason deals, as the Senses deal each with its appropriate Sensation.

But, it will naturally be asked, what is the Relation of Ideas to the Objects of Sense? Some connexion, or relation, it is plain, there must be. The objects of sense can suggest, and can illustrate real truths. Though these truths of geometry cannot be proved, cannot even be exactly exemplified, by drawing diagrams, yet diagrams are of use in helping ordinary minds to see the proof; and to all minds, may represent and illustrate it. And though our conclusions with regard to objects of sense may be insecure and imperfect, they have some show of truth, and therefore some resemblance to truth. What does this arise from? How is it explained, if there is no truth except concerning Ideas?

To this the Platonist replied, that the phenomena which present themselves to the senses partake, in a certain manner, of Ideas, and thus include so much of the nature of Ideas, that they include also an element of Truth. The geometrical diagram of Triangles and Squares which is drawn in the sand of the floor of the Gymnasium, partakes of the nature of the true Ideal Triangles and Squares, so that it presents an imitation and suggestion of the truths which are true of them. The real triangles and squares are in the mind: they are, as we have said, objects, not in the Visible, but in the Intelligible World. But the Visible Triangles and Squares make us call to mind the Intelligible; and thus the objects of sense suggest, and, in a way, exemplify the eternal truths.

This I conceive to be the simplest and directest ground of two primary parts of the Theory of Ideas;—The Eternal Ideas constituting an Intelligible World; and the Participation in these Ideas ascribed to the objects of the world of sense. And it is plain that so far, the Theory meets what, I conceive, was its primary purpose; it answers the questions, How can we have certain knowledge, though we cannot get it from Sense? and, How can we have knowledge, at least apparent, though imperfect, about the world of sense?

But is this the ground on which Plato himself rests the truth of his Theory of Ideas? As I have said, I have no doubt that these were the questions which suggested the Theory; and it is perpetually applied in such a manner as to show that it was held by Plato in this sense. But his applications of the Theory refer very often to another part of it;—to the Ideas, not of Triangles and Squares, of space and its affections; but to the Ideas of Relations—as the Relations of Like and Unlike, Greater and Less; or to things quite different from the things of which geometry treats, for instance, to Tables and Chairs, and other matters, with regard to which no demonstration is possible, and no general truth (still less necessary an eternal truth) capable of being asserted.

I conceive that the Theory of Ideas, thus asserted and thus supported, stands upon very much weaker ground than it does, when it is asserted concerning the objects of thought about which necessary and demonstrable truths are attainable. And in order to devise arguments against this part of the Theory, and to trace the contradictions to which it leads, we have no occasion to task our own ingenuity. We find it done to our hands, not only in Aristotle, the open opponent of the Theory of Ideas, but in works which stand among the Platonic Dialogues themselves. And I wish especially to point out some of the arguments against the Ideal Theory, which are given in one of the most noted of the Platonic Dialogues, the Parmenides.

The Parmenides contains a narrative of a Dialogue held between Parmenides and Zeno, the Eleatic Philosophers, on the one side, and Socrates, along with several other persons, on the other. It may be regarded as divided into two main portions; the first, in which the Theory of Ideas is attacked by Parmenides, and defended by Socrates; the second, in which Parmenides discusses, at length, the Eleatic doctrine that All things are One. It is the former part, the discussion of the Theory of Ideas, to which I especially wish to direct attention at present: and in the first place, to that extension of the Theory of Ideas, to things of which no general truth is possible; such as I have mentioned, tables and chairs. Plato often speaks of a Table, by way of example, as a thing of which there must be an Idea, not taken from any special Table or assemblage of Tables; but an Ideal Table, such that all Tables are Tables by participating in the nature of this Idea. Now the question is, whether there is any force, or indeed any sense, in this assumption; and this question is discussed in the Parmenides. Socrates is there represented as very confident in the existence of Ideas of the highest and largest kind, the Just, the Fair, the Good, and the like. Parmenides asks him how far he follows his theory. Is there, he asks, an Idea of Man, which is distinct from us men? an Idea of Fire? of Water? "In truth," replies Socrates, "I have often hesitated, Parmenides, about these, whether we are to allow such Ideas." When Plato had proceeded to teach that there is an Idea of a Table, of course he could not reject such Ideas as Man, and Fire, and Water. Parmenides, proceeding in the same line, pushes him further still. "Do you doubt," says he, "whether there are Ideas of things apparently worthless and vile? Is there an Idea of a Hair? of Mud? of Filth?" Socrates has not the courage to accept such an extension of the theory. He says, "By no means. These are not Ideas. These are nothing more than just what we see them. I have often been perplexed what to think on this subject. But after standing to this a while, I have fled the thought, for fear of falling into an unfathomable abyss of absurdities." On this, Parmenides rebukes him for his want of consistency. "Ah Socrates," he says, "you are yet young; and philosophy has not yet taken possession of you as I think she will one day do–when you will have learned to find nothing despicable in any of these things. But now your youth inclines you to regard the opinions of men." It is indeed plain, that if we are to assume an Idea of a Chair or a Table, we can find no boundary line which will exclude Ideas of everything for which we have a name, however worthless or offensive. And this is an argument against the assumption of such Ideas, which will convince most persons of the groundlessness of the assumption:—the more so, as for the assumption of such Ideas, it does not appear that Plato offers any argument whatever; nor does this assumption solve any problem, or remove any difficulty³²². Parmenides, then, had reason to say that consistency required Socrates, if he assumed any such Ideas, to assume all. And I conceive his reply to be to this effect; and to be thus a reductio ad absurdum of the Theory of Ideas in this sense. According to the opinions of those who see in the Parmenides an exposition of Platonic doctrines, I believe that Parmenides is conceived in this passage, to suggest to Socrates what is necessary for the completion of the Theory of Ideas. But upon either supposition, I wish especially to draw the attention of my readers to the position of superiority in the Dialogue in which Parmenides is here placed with regard to Socrates.