ction of minds.--Living
stability.--Continuity necessary to progress.--Limits of variation.
Spirit a heritage.--Perfectibility.--Nature and human
nature.--Human nature formulated.--Its concrete description
reserved for the sequel

Introduction to "The Life of Reason"

[Sidenote: Progress is relative to an ideal which reflection creates.]

Whatever forces may govern human life, if they are to be recognised by
man, must betray themselves in human experience. Progress in science or
religion, no less than in morals and art, is a dramatic episode in man's
career, a welcome variation in his habit and state of mind; although
this variation may often regard or propitiate things external,
adjustment to which may be important for his welfare. The importance of
these external things, as well as their existence, he can establish only
by the function and utility which a recognition of them may have in his
life. The entire history of progress is a moral drama, a tale man might
unfold in a great autobiography, could his myriad heads and countless
scintillas of consciousness conspire, like the seventy Alexandrian
sages, in a single version of the truth committed to each for
interpretation. What themes would prevail in such an examination of
heart? In what order and with what emphasis would they be recounted? In
which of its adventures would the human race, reviewing its whole
experience, acknowledge a progress and a gain? To answer these
questions, as they may be answered speculatively and provisionally by an
individual, is the purpose of the following work.

[Sidenote: Efficacious reflection is reason.]

A philosopher could hardly have a higher ambition than to make himself a
mouth-piece for the memory and judgment of his race. Yet the most casual
consideration of affairs already involves an attempt to do the same
thing. Reflection is pregnant from the beginning with all the principles
of synthesis and valuation needed in the most comprehensive criticism.
So soon as man ceases to be wholly immersed in sense, he looks before
and after, he regrets and desires; and the moments in which prospect or
retrospect takes place constitute the reflective or representative part
of his life, in contrast to the unmitigated flux of sensations in which
nothing ulterior is regarded. Representation, however, can hardly remain
idle and merely speculative. To the ideal function of envisaging the
absent, memory and reflecti