At the outset, truth was defined as the "correspondence" or "agreement"
of an idea with its object. But we have seen that correspondence or
agreement with an object means the completion and determination of the
idea itself, and since the idea is here a specific "plan of action," it
would seem that the "true" idea would be the one that can complete
itself by stimulating a satisfying activity. The false idea would be
one that cannot complete itself in a satisfying activity, such as
singing in tune, constructing a mathematical equation, etc., and just
this solution is very clearly expounded by our author. In the case of
mathematical inquiry,
In just so far as we _pause satisfied_ we observe that there "is
no other" mathematical fact to be sought _in the direction of the
particular inquiry in hand_. Satisfaction of purpose by means of
_presented fact_ and such determinate satisfaction as sends us to
no other experience for further light and fulfillment, precisely
this outcome is itself the Other that is sought when we begin our
inquiry.[194]
So "when other facts of experience are sought," if I watch for stars or
for a chemical precipitate, or for a turn in the stock market, or in the
sickness of a friend, my ideas are true when they are satisfied with
"the presented facts." Again,
It follows that the finally determinate form of the object of any
finite idea is that form which the idea itself would assume
whenever it became individuated, or in other words, became a
completely determined idea, an idea or will fulfilled by a wholly
adequate empirical content, for which no other content need be
substituted or from the point of view of the satisfied idea, could
be substituted.[195]
In such passages as these it seems clear that the test of the truth of
an idea is its power to bring us to the point where we "pause
satisfied," where "no other content need be substituted," etc. Nor in
such passages does there seem to be any doubt of reaching satisfaction
in particular cases. Here, it appears, we _may_ sing in tune, we _may_
get the desired precipitate, and possibly even interpret the stock
market correctly. Of course, the discord, the hunger, the loss, will
come again; but so will new ideas, new truths. "Man thinks in order to
get control of his world and thereby of himself."[196] Then the control
actually gained must measure the value, the truth of his thought. Do you
wish to sing in tune, "then your musical ideas are false if they lead
you to strike what are then called false notes."[197]
It should also be noticed that here this desired determination does not
consist in a further determination of the mere idea as such. It is found
in "the presented fact," in the immediate activity of singing, of
getting precipitates, etc. As has already been pointed out, it is only
by using the term "idea" for both the purpose and the fulfilling act of
singing that this "pause of satisfaction" can be ascribed to the further
determination of the idea. As such, as also before remarked, the sort of
determination that the idea here gets means its termination, its
disappearance in the immediate experiences of singing, etc., to which it
leads. The "indefinite restlessness" of hunger and cold would scarcely
be satisfied by getting more determinate and specific _ideas_ only of
food and shelter. The satisfaction comes when the ideas are "realized,"
when the "plans" are swallowed up in fulfilment.
But in all this nothing has been said about "the certain absolute system
of ideas," nor does there appear to be here any demand for it. To be
sure, in the passages just considered, experience has been found to
become "fragmentary," but it has also been found capable of healing, of
wholing itself, not of course into any "final whole," but into the unity
of "satisfaction" as regards "the particular inquiry in hand." There is
of course failure as well, but this also is not final. It means simply
that we must look farther for the "pause of satisfaction," that we must
construct another idea, another "plan of action."
But, after having shown that the idea as a plan of action may lead to
satisfaction in the particular case, and that its success or failure so
to do is one measure of its truth or falsity, we are now suddenly
aroused to the fact that after all thought does not lead us to the
completed "absolute system of ideas," to a final stage of eternal
unbroken satisfaction.
But never in our human process of experience do we reach that
determination. It is for us the object of love and of hope, of
desire and of will, of faith and of work, but never of present
finding.[198]
If at this point one asks: Whence this absolute system of ideas? Why
have we to reckon with it at all? there appears to be little that is
satisfying. Indeed, it seems difficult to get rid of the impression that
this "certain absolute system of ideas" is on our hands as a
philosophical heirloom from the time of Plato, so hallowed by time and
so established by centuries of acceptance that we have ceased to ask for
its credentials. To ground it in the "essentially fragmentary character
of human experience" appears to be a _petitio_, for experience does not
appear "essentially fragmentary" in this sense until after the absolute
system has been posited.
And this brings to notice that at this point both the fragmentary and
unitary characters of experience take on new meaning. So far this
fragmentary character has been defined with reference to "the particular
inquiry in hand." Now, since the distinction between absolute and human
experience has emerged, the fragmentary character becomes an absolute
quality of the latter in contrast with the former. So, _mutatis
mutandis_, of unity. Up to this point unity, wholeness, has been
possible within human experience in the case of particular problems,
such as singing in tune, etc. But with the appearance of the absolute
system of ideas, wholeness is now the exclusive quality of the latter,
as incompleteness is of human experience, though of course the _working_
unity, the unity resulting in "pauses of satisfaction," must still
remain in the latter.
The problem now is to somehow work the absolute system of ideas into
connection with the conception of the idea as a purpose, as a concrete
plan of action. Here is where the third conception of the relation
between idea and purpose, described at the beginning, comes into
play--the conception in which the idea, instead of being the purpose, or
the fulfilment of a purpose, _has_ the purpose to correspond with, or
represent "its own final and completely individual expression,"
contained in the absolute system. From the previous standpoint the
idea's "own final and completely individual expression" has been found
in the fulfilling experiences of singing in tune, getting mathematical
equations, chemical precipitates, etc. Here this complete individual
experience can never be found in finite, human experience, but must be
sought in the absolute system--and this can be only "the object of love
and hope, of desire and will, never of present finding."
Notwithstanding the many previous protestations that the purposive
function of the idea is its "primary" and "most essential" character, we
are here forced to fall back upon correspondence--representation as the
primary, the essential, and indeed, it appears at times, as the sole
function. For in the attempt to bring these two functions together the
purposive function is swallowed up in the representative. The idea still
is, or has a purpose, a "plan of action," but this purpose, this plan,
is now nothing but to represent and correspond with its own final and
completed form in the absolute system. By this simple _coup_ is the
purposive function of the idea reduced at once to the representative.
Nor is it pertinent to urge at this point that every purpose involves
representation, that the plan must be some sort of an image or scheme
which symbolizes and stimulates the thing to be done. This no one would
question, but now the sole "thing to be done" apparently is to perfect
this representation of the complete and individual form in the absolute
system.[199]
Once more, an array of passages could be marshaled from almost every
page refuting any such interpretation as this, but they would be
passages expounding the part played by the idea in such concrete
experiences as singing, measuring, etc., not in representing an absolute
system of ideas. Even as regards the latter one might urge that, by
insisting on the active character of the idea, we could after all regard
this absolute system as a life of will after the fashion of our own,
were it not at once described as "the complete embodiment," "the final
fulfilment," of finite ideas. A life consisting of mere fulfilment seems
a baffling paradox. And its timeless character only adds to the
difficulty. Moreover, if we regard the system as constituted by such
concrete activities as measuring and singing, etc., while we have saved
will, we shall now have to fallback upon our first conception of truth
as found in the idea which unifies the fragmentary condition of
experience as related to specific problems, not fragmentary as related
to an absolute system.
This brings us to the final and crucial point of the discussion, the
part which purpose plays in the determination of _truth_ and _error_
from the standpoint of "the absolute system of ideas." When is this
purpose of the idea to correspond with its absolute, final, and
completed form fulfilled, or partially fulfilled? And here at the very
outset is a difficulty. We have read repeatedly that the idea is itself
"the partial fulfilment of a purpose." It is now to seek an object which
shall increase this degree of fulfilment, but still this fulfilment
shall be incomplete. And when we come to consider error, it too will be
found to consist in a partial fulfilment. So it appears that there are
three stages of "partial fulfilment" to be discriminated, one belonging
to the idea itself, another to finite truth, and still another to error.
Returning to the problem, from this point on we find the two
standpoints, that of the specific situation and that of the absolute
system, so closely interwoven and entangled that they are followed with
great difficulty. We have already seen that the idea seeks
correspondence with its object, because it is "fragmentary,"
"incomplete," "indetermined." And there we found that this indeterminate
and fragmentary character belonged to the idea as a purpose, a plan of
seeking relief from some sort of "restlessness" and "dissatisfaction,"
such as singing out of tune, etc. Here it is the incompleteness of an
imperfect representation of its object in the absolute system that is
the _motif_, and how it is to effect an improvement in its imperfect
condition is now the problem. Here again the appeal is to purpose.
Whatever may constitute the absolute system, one thing is assured:
nothing in it can be an object except as the finite idea "intends it,"
purposes it, to be its object. Again must we ask: On what basis is this
object in the absolute system selected at all? In general the answer is:
On the basis of a need of "further determination;" but when we further
analyze this, we find it means on the basis of a specific want or need,
such as food, shelter, measuring, singing, etc. The basis of the
selection, then, is entirely on the side of the concrete, finite
situation.
Here, too, we might ask: Whence the confidence that there will be found
something in the absolute system that will fulfil the purpose generated
on the side of the finite? Must we not here fall back on something like
a pre-established harmony? To this our author would say: "Yea, verily.
The fact that the absolute system responds to the finite needs does
precisely show that the finite and the absolute cannot be sundered." But
when we try to state _how_ the purpose generated on the side of the
finite can be met by the absolute system, the account again seems to run
so much in terms of the finite experience that to call it a system of
"final," "completed," and "fulfilled" ideas does not seem accurate. We
must note here, too, the shifting in the sense of "purpose." The idea
selects its object on the basis of the material needed to relieve the
unrest and dissatisfaction of singing out of tune, etc. But now it is to
be satisfied by increasing the extent of its representation of its
object in the absolute system.
And now, finally, what shall mark the attainment of this purpose of the
idea to correspond and represent "its own completed form"? When is the
correspondence and representation true? Simply at the point where "we
pause satisfied," where "no other content need be substituted, or from
the point of view of the satisfied idea could be substituted." That is
all; there is no other answer. There are other statements, but they all
come to the same thing. For instance:
It is true--this instant's idea--if, in its own measure, and on
its own plan, it corresponds, even in its vagueness, to its own
final and completely individual expression.[200]
But the moment we ask what this "final and individual expression" is,
and what is meant by "in its own measure," and "on its own plan," we
are thrown back at once upon the preceding statement. The next sentence
following the passage just quoted does indeed define this "individual
expression." "Its expression would be the very life of fulfilment of
purpose which this present idea already fragmentarily begins, as it
were, to express." But how can we know that the expression is
"fragmentary" unless we have some experience of wholeness?
And here perhaps is the place to say, what has been implied all along,
that this absolutely "fragmentary" character of human experience is an
abstraction of the relatively disintegrated condition into which
experience temporarily falls, which abstraction is then reinstated as a
fixed quality, overlooking the fact that experience becomes fragmentary
only that it may again become whole. The absolute system, the final
fulfilment, is in the same case. It too is but the hypostatized
abstraction of the function of becoming whole, of wholing and
fulfilling, which manifests itself in the "pauses of satisfaction."
"But," Mr. Royce would say, "the wholeness of the particular instance is
after all not a true and perfect wholeness, because we can always think
of the fulfilling experience as possibly different, as having a possibly
different embodiment." But this implies also a different purpose.
Moreover, it abstracts the purpose from the specific conditions under
which the purpose develops. Thus in singing in tune one doubtless could
easily imagine himself singing another tune, on another occasion, in
another key, in a clear tenor instead of a cracked bass, etc. But if on
_this_ occasion, in _this_ song, and with _this_ cracked bass voice one,
accepting all these conditions, does, with malice aforethought, purpose
to strike the tune, and happily succeeds, why, for that purpose formed
under the known and accepted conditions, is not the accomplishment final
and absolute? Nor is the case any different, so far as I can see, in
mathematical experience. To quote again:
You think of numbers, and accordingly count one, two, three. Your
idea of these numbers is abstract, a mere generality. Why? Because
there could be other cases of counting, and other numbers counted
than the present counting process shows you, and why so? Because
your purpose in counting is not wholly fulfilled by the numbers
now counted.[201]
I confess I cannot see here in what respect the purpose is not
fulfilled. Doubtless there could be "other cases of counting," and
"other numbers," but these may not be included in my present purpose,
which is simply to count here and now. In this passage the purpose is
not very fully defined. One's counting is usually for something, if for
nothing more than merely to illustrate the process. In this latter case
one's purpose would be completely fulfilled by just the numbers used
when he should "pause satisfied" with the illustration. Or, if I wish to
show the properties of numbers, then the discovery that there can always
be more of them fulfils my purpose, since this endless progression is
one of the properties. Or yet again, if one should suddenly become
enamored of the process of counting, and forthwith should purpose to
devote the rest of his days to it, it would still be fortunate that
there were always other numbers to be counted. In other words, the idea
as a purpose is formed with reference to, and out of, specific
conditions. In the last analysis the problem always is: What is to be
done here and now with the actual material at hand, under the present
conditions? As the purpose is determined by these specific conditions,
so is the fulfilment. To say that the fulfilment might be different is
virtually to say that the purpose might have been different, or indeed
that the universe might have been different.
This necessity of falling back upon the character of the idea as a
purpose in the sense of the specific "plan of action" comes into still
bolder relief in the consideration of error from the standpoint of "the
absolute system of ideas." As already mentioned, the initial and
persistent problem here is to distinguish at all between truth and error
in our experience from this standpoint. All our efforts at representing
the absolute system must fall short. What can we mean, then, by calling
some of our ideas true and others false? The definition of error is as
follows:
An error is an error about a specific object, only in case the
purpose, imperfectly defined by the vague idea at the instant when
the error is made, is better defined, is in fact, better fulfilled
by an object whose determinate character in some wise, although
never absolutely, opposes the fragmentary efforts first made to
define them.[202]
But in relation to the absolute system the later part of this statement
holds of all our ideas. There always is the absolute object which would
"better define" and "better fulfil" our purposes. Hence it is only in
reference to the "specific" instances of singing, measuring, etc., that
a basis for the distinction can be found. Here our plan is not true so
long as its mission of relieving the specific unrest and
dissatisfaction, the specific discord or hunger, is unfulfilled.
The only criterion, then, which we have been able to find for the
fulfilment of the purpose, for the truth of the idea as representing an
object in the absolute system, is the sense of wholeness, the "pause of
satisfaction," which we experience in realizing such specific purposes
as "singing in tune." And if it be said again: "Precisely so; this only
shows how intimate is the relation between our experience and the
absolute system of ideas;" then must it also be said once more, either
that the absolute system can be nothing more than an abstraction of the
element of wholeness or wholing in our experience, or that thus far the
relation appears to rest upon sheer assumption.
Again, it may be insisted, as suggested at the outset of this
discussion, that the idea can well have two purposes: one to help
constitute and solve the specific problems of daily life; the other to
represent the absolute system. Very well, we must then make out a case
for the latter. If the purposes are to be different, the purpose to
represent the Absolute should have a criterion of its own. This we have
not been able to find. On the contrary, whenever pushed to the point of
stating a criterion for the representation of the absolute system, we
have had to appeal, in every case, to the fulfilment of a specific
finite purpose. And even if this purpose to represent the absolute
system had some apparent standard of its own, we should not be content
to leave the matter so. We should scarcely be satisfied to observe as a
mere matter of fact that the idea has a reconstructive function, and
_also_ a representative function. Such a brute dualism would be
intolerable.