distinction between relative and absolute reality is thus a reflective afterthought. Absolute reality is the object of absolute knowledge the unattained standard, which, if it were present to us, would, indeed, afford an ultimate test of truth or falsity. The conception is therefore, like that of absolute knowledge, based upon the experienced development of human beliefs.

The leading pragmatists are unanimous in protesting against the charge of subjectivism, which their critics have, with almost equal unanimity, brought against them. With respect to the continued existence of sensible things, when not perceived by us, they declare that they regard this as the best supported of all human inferences. And the answer to the occasional charge of solipsism is precisely similar.

Reality in its other aspect, as the condition of success or failure, is assuredly no new discovery of the pragmatists. Their meritor crime, if you please—is that they have insisted upon the essentiality of this aspect, instead of regarding it as a mere 'external' property. While philosophy and common sense have always been agreed that reality makes a great difference to us, the pragmatists have made themselves conspicuous by maintaining that nothing is real except in so far as it makes a difference

to us.

This doctrine should be carefully distinguished from the theory of the will-to-believe, as well as from the allied theory of humanism; and we hope that our treatment of these two theories will make the difference clear. Here we can only call attention to the fact, that in conceiving reality as the condition of happiness, nothing is implied as to any function of desire in legitimizing belief, or as to the efficacy of human desires in changing a 'plastic' reality. Nor is the pragmatist theory of reality a mere optimism. So far from suggesting that evil realities do not exist, it suggests very forcibly that they do exist, and declares that the evilness of such realities is an essential factor in constituting them as real.

The whole line of thought may be comprehended in the single

formula, that reality is the object of interest. Herein is suggested one of the most significant scientific developments of recent times, the re-born theory of the objectivity of values. It would lead us too far afield to enlarge upon this theory. Suffice it to point out that whereas pragmatism has been currently confounded with subjective idealism, its real tendency is to extend the boundaries of the objective rather than the subjective world.

CHAPTER II

EXAMINATION OF THE PRINCIPLES

We have confessed to an extensive agreement with the pragmatist theories set forth above. Whether the agreement be regarded as a fundamental one, will doubtless depend upon the point of view. It is natural for us to regard as fundamental in pragmatism the portion of truth which we find there. The pragmatists themselves may easily think otherwise. How important the agreement is, may be judged from the criticisms which we offer here.

A serious weakness in this system, as we conceive it, may be traced to a certain peculiar assumption which has apparently been inherited from the biological ethics of the last generation,an assumption which pragmatism ought, indeed, to have been the first to denounce. This is, that the whole utility-or, at least, the ultimate utility-of a newly arising function consists in its supplementation of previously existing functions, in the accomplishment of previously existing ends. In reliance upon this assumption, a previous generation of evolutionists attempted to discover a 'sanction' for morality in the general characteristics of prehuman evolution; and the present theory follows a similar course with respect to logical thought and consciousness in general.

That pragmatism ought to have rejected such an assumption will appear, when it is reflected that it is a form of that very doctrine of logical priority, the denial of which is vital to the whole revolt against dogmatic absolutism. To assume that new ends must be interpreted simply as means to old ones-or, at most, as new elements in old ends, upon a par with the rest—is to give up the whole instrumentalist position without a struggle. It is to grant to the final ends a species of finality, for which no place should now be left.

Such being the case, we are led to wonder how so obvious an inconsistency came to be overlooked-how 'adaptation' and 'survival' came to be used, as if they, unlike all other terms, possessed at least a core of absolutely fixed significance. The only answer which suggests itself is that these terms are, indeed, fundamental to the Darwinian theory, in which the psychology of pragmatism took its rise. In that theory, survival passes for the essential precondition of all the various phenomena of life; and adaptation is defined in turn as the precondition of survival. A very cursory examination, however, serves to show that neither conception can maintain its integrity. Survival, for example, changes its meaning most plastically according to the object to which it is referred. The survival of the individual is one thing, and the survival of the species is another; while the survival of the group which is as compatible with extinction of an original stock as survival of the species is compatible with the downfall of all its individuals-implies no more than that successors to its former membership remain; and the manner in which admission to membership in the group takes place is practically unlimited, varying according to the nature of the group in question. The survival of a custom or an art is similarly independent of that of the group which practices or cultivates it. Taken generally, therefore, survival is one of the vaguest and emptiest of concepts. It means no more than continued existence; and, as is the case with existence itself, its meaning changes enormously with the subject of which it is predicated.

Why, then, has the survival of the species been conceded such preeminence as the end of all organic functions? Simply because organisms reproduce after their kind, and such reproduction is, in general, the only means by which traits are transmitted from one generation to another. The term 'end,' as used in this connection, is, of course, originally a metaphor derived from human purposes: the end of a function is the interesting outcome toward which it appears to be directed. Strictly speaking, however, the term has come to indicate primarily an effect which is essential

to the repetition or continuance of its cause; and secondarily any link in the chain of events leading from the cause to the effect; or briefly, to use a well-worn phrase, an effect determining its cause. Now it is obvious that in relation to organic functions transmitted by reproduction, the survival of the species stands as such an end. If it is not secured, they cease to be; and it is thus a permanent condition in accordance with which their evolution has come to pass. In a general way this applies as well to consciousness as to any other organic function.

With regard to at least certain of the particular forms of consciousness-ideas, sentiments, and the like-a very different account must be given; for, as is well known, these are not perpetuated in the same manner, and accordingly their development is quite otherwise determined. To be sure, such mental processes are necessarily the outgrowth of inherited capacities, and these must be maintained by an unbroken heredity if the whole function is not to disappear. But within the limit thus assigned so definite and extensive a variation has occurred, that to speak of survival in the biologist's sense as the end of consciousness is a monstrous distortion of the facts.

For in the rise of consciousness a second end (in the sense above defined) emerges, namely, the satisfaction of desire, or happiness. That happiness does thus operate as a determining condition in the psychical selection by which the more complex mental processes are developed, is well known; and none have illustrated the fact better than the pragmatists. Their fault, as we conceive it, has been a failure to distinguish accurately between the conditions of happiness and those of survival. This has led to a distressing ambiguity in the use of such terms as 'need,' 'adjustment,' 'failure,' 'working,' etc., referring to the presence or absence of both classes of conditions at once-an ambiguity which has done more to prevent a wide acceptance of pragmatism than any other single circumstance.

In urging the necessity of keeping ourselves clear upon this point, we do not wish to suggest a questioning of the pragmatist