PRAGMATISM

Lecture I

The Present Dilemma in Philosophy

In the preface to that admirable collection of essays of his called ‘Heretics,’ Mr. Chesterton writes these words:  “There are some people—­and I am one of them—­who think that the most practical and important thing about a man is still his view of the universe.  We think that for a landlady considering a lodger, it is important to know his income, but still more important to know his philosophy.  We think that for a general about to fight an enemy, it is important to know the enemy’s numbers, but still more important to know the enemy’s philosophy.  We think the question is not whether the theory of the cosmos affects matters, but whether, in the long run, anything else affects them.”

I think with Mr. Chesterton in this matter.  I know that you, ladies and gentlemen, have a philosophy, each and all of you, and that the most interesting and important thing about you is the way in which it determines the perspective in your several worlds.  You know the same of me.  And yet I confess to a certain tremor at the audacity of the enterprise which I am about to begin.  For the philosophy which is so important in each of us is not a technical matter; it is our more or less dumb sense of what life honestly and deeply means.  It is only partly got from books; it is our individual way of just seeing and feeling the total push and pressure of the cosmos.  I have no right to assume that many of you are students of the cosmos in the class-room sense, yet here I stand desirous of interesting you in a philosophy which to no small extent has to be technically treated.  I wish to fill you with sympathy with a contemporaneous tendency in which I profoundly believe, and yet I have to talk like a professor to you who are not students.  Whatever universe a professor believes in must at any rate be a universe that lends itself to lengthy discourse.  A universe definable in two sentences is something for which the professorial intellect has no use.  No faith in anything of that cheap kind!  I have heard friends and colleagues try to popularize philosophy in this very hall, but they soon grew dry, and then technical, and the results were only partially encouraging.  So my enterprise is a bold one.  The founder of pragmatism himself recently gave a course of lectures at the Lowell Institute with that very word in its title-flashes of brilliant light relieved against Cimmerian darkness!  None of us, I fancy, understood all that he said—­yet here I stand, making a very similar venture.

I risk it because the very lectures I speak of drew—­they brought good audiences.  There is, it must be confessed, a curious fascination in hearing deep things talked about, even tho neither we nor the disputants understand them.  We get the problematic thrill, we feel the presence of the vastness.  Let a controversy begin in a smoking-room anywhere, about free-will or God’s omniscience, or good and evil, and see how everyone in the place pricks up his ears.  Philosophy’s results concern us all most vitally, and philosophy’s queerest arguments tickle agreeably our sense of subtlety and ingenuity.