was absolutely ignorant of all things: else had his maxim as to the value of knowledge been a contradiction. His meaning simply was, that the further he went, and the more profound were his investigations in the search for truth, the more strongly did he feel how completely the boasts of the Sophists, who professed ability to prove all things, were necessarily vain; that the utmost stretch of man's intellect could carry him but a little way into the endless region of truth; that the further the mind advanced, it only felt the more widely opening before it an unexplored and continually increasing prospect; in short, that the more he knew, the more he desired to know, and the more he felt how many things there are in heaven and earth which man's philosophy never can find out. It would be well for the advance of man in the discovery of truth, if all the professed votaries at her shrine went up to the temple with feelings like those which actuated Socrates when he made this candid acknowledgment. Then would the approach to her sacred presence be less obstructed than it ever must be, when it is imagined that the path is easy and accessible, and when due precaution and preparation is not, therefore, made for the numerous difficulties which do, in reality, beset that path.

But there is in this, as in all other cases, a just medium. The consciousness of the insufficiency of man's powers to attain to the discovery of truth, may be carried too far, as well as be too little entertained. The effects will, in the former case, be as injurious to the actual advance towards this discovery, as in the latter. We find this exemplified in the doctrines of some of the followers of Socrates, and of others among the philosophers of old.

Plato, the greatest of all the disciples of Socrates, seems to have advanced somewhat further than his master, or, perhaps, only to have stated in more definite language his opinions, as to the power of man to attain to certitude or truth. He divided all objects, of which man was capable of taking cognizance, into two classes, Sensibles and Intelligibles. Sensibles are those things that we perceive by the senses alone. Intelligibles are those things apprehended by the intellect alone. The latter, he expressly taught, could be the only foundations of true knowledge.*

* Brucker, as cited, Vol. I, p. 672. XVII, 2. The pages of Brucker's valuable and interesting work may be consulted for all the other opinions stated. Diogenes Laertius

From the information of the senses, nothing more than probability was to be inferred. This is not the place to enter into a discussion as to Plato's beautiful, and little generally understood, doctrine of ideas. It is sufficient to say, that the principles of the foundation of real knowledge and of mere probability just stated, led, as applied by him, to no irrational conclusions. They were rather safeguards of the intellect than any thing else, and were directed against the dogmatic principles of the Sophists. But, by the followers of Plato, in the Middle and New Academies, his doctrines, with respect to probability and real knowledge, were carried to a much greater, even an absurd, extreme. Arcesilaus, the founder of the Middle Academy, appears to have carried the doctrine of the uncertainty of human knowledge, in the heat of his disputes with those who opposed the Platonic doctrines, to so great an extent, as to offend all contemporary philosophers, and to alarm the rulers of the state. He taught, actually and literally, that there is nothing which man can know for truth.* Carneades, the founder of the New Academy, seems rather to have made an alteration in the terms, than in the spirit, of this doctrine. Each of them taught, that certainty and truth do exist, but that it is utterly impossible for man to find them out. The principles of the Sceptic school, or that founded by Pyrrho of Elea, though these are generally misunderstood, did not differ essentially from those of the Middle and New Academies. The main doctrine of this school was, that every argument is capable of being opposed by one equally strong.† Hence, it would, of course, necessarily follow, that the real truth, with respect to any matter, never could be attained.

It will thus be seen, what have been the opinions of some of those whose lives were spent in the professed search after truth, as to the possibility of man's attaining it. These opinions, if correct, it may seem almost an absurdity to ask, if a doctrine which expressly teaches that no opinion can be known to be correct, is correct,present, indeed, a lamentable picture of man's condition.

is so immethodical, though his work is of great value, that mere reference to particular passages will be of little value, except in the case of such marked expressions as those of Socrates.

It may be simply stated, that it is absolutely impossible the human race should continue to exist and act, if such doctrines were to obtain general assent, and the conduct to be consistent with them. No single act could take place with the prospect of a result; and, therefore, no measure of prospective relation,-which every act of man, in fact, is, could be taken. These facts, alone, are sufficient to prove, that such doctrines cannot be correct. But it may be useful to glance at one principal cause, which seems to have led to the formation of such doctrines.

It would seem, upon careful consideration, that one of the principal sources of such doctrines as have been noticed, is a misconception, or indistinct notion, of the object which is sought; in other words, an erroneous conception of what is the essence of truth. It may be worth while, then, briefly to inquire, What is truth?

The author of the "Essay on the Rationale of Circumstantial Evidence" defines truth to be "the conformity of words, ideas, and relations, witht he nature and reality of events and things." (P. 2.) Now, in this definition, we must differ from the author; and it is, we believe, almost the only instance in which we find occasion to complain of a want of accuracy in his definitions. We complain of this definition, as deficient in precision, as well as in accuracy. It appears to us, that, in the precise phraseology in which questions of moral and intellectual philosophy must always be discussed, "words, ideas and relations" can never be correctly placed in the same category, with reference to any object. An idea and a relation are as distinct as the thing contained from the thing containing. An idea is an individual modality (if such an expression will be allowable) of that which is commonly termed mind. A relation is something apprehended by an idea, and known to the mind, as existing in connection with two or more objects or facts, external to self. I have an idea (cognizance of the distinct existence) of a pine-apple, and an idea of a hot-house, and I must, also, if relation means any thing, have an idea (a distinct cognizance of the existence) of some relation between the pine-apple and the hot-house. We presume this is the sense in which the word, "relation," is used, in the place quoted; though it is not sufficiently precise, in wording, to enable us to feel certain as to the author's sense.

Neither do we admit, that words and ideas ought to be classed together. Words and ideas are rather connected in the relation of effect and cause, or, at any rate, of consequence and antecedent, than as different modes of existence of the same fact. An idea which embraces truth may often exist while yet words cannot be found exactly and accurately to express it. Hence how many errors, misunderstandings, misapprehensions and evils! No where is this more exhibited than in religion. How many different ideas are conceived, by different individuals, to be expressed by the same words! We rather imagine, that the definition of truth is, itself, a case where a clear idea may exist within the mind, while yet it is most difficult for words to give a correct representation of that idea. With this conviction, we attempt the task of a definition with great hesitation.

A single term, if rightly employed, always expresses an idea, and conveys a definition, with more precision and accuracy than a lengthened phrase. We venture, then, to define truth, by the single term, actuality. The term, actuality, is more precise and correct than the term, existence, though, in some aspects, convertible with it. The term, actuality, expresses whatever is, (ens) or actually now exists, and also whatever has existed, or may exist, in immediate connection with that which does exist; as, for example, the possibility of some historical fact, as inferred from the constitution of man, or the possibility of some future state of social improvement or existence, as inferred from the same. It embraces not only physical existence, but also what may, perhaps, be best termed purely ideal existence. The bearing and distinct meaning of this will presently be seen. According to this view, then, in searching for the discovery of truth, we search to obtain a knowledge of that which does actually exist; of that which has formerly existed, in connection with that which does exist; or of that which may exist, in the same connection; and we can search no farther. This is the boundary of possible truth. Nothing else can be truth, and if we know any part of this, we know, in so much, truth,—than that which certainly and necessarily does exist, has existed, or may exist. This includes the whole range of the present, as well as of the possible. The human mind can never attain to the knowledge of all this; but, in so far as it does attain to the

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knowledge of any part of it, it must attain to a knowledge of truth; it must have succeeded in the discovery of truth.

It may be thought, at first sight, that this definition of truth contains nothing important; nothing more than is self-evident. It may be observed, simply, that the more correct a view is, the more is it likely to seem self-evident, when once expressed, but the more important it must actually be. It will probably be presently perceived, that the having of a clear, definite, and precise idea of what does constitute truth, and what only can constitute truth, will aid very much in the discovery of truth; and that the want of it has been, and very generally is, a material cause of difficulty in the attempt at the discovery of truth.

It having been thus attempted to be definitely ascertained what, in the endeavor to discover truth, is the precise object to be sought, the next point which comes under attention is, how is truth to be sought, how determined and known to be the truth. Is there any criterion or standard, approaching to exactness, by which the truth may be tried?

Lord Bacon alludes to the different modes of demonstration, "by the immediate consent of the mind or sense, and by induction; "* and Cicero justly says,† that, "by the senses we perceive nothing but that which is immediately present; by the mind alone (which he here used in the sense of reflection) we perceive the past and future." These two brief quotations may be said to embody the statement of the source whence truth, or a knowledge of actuality, is to be attained. It is here intimated, that there are two sources of knowledge; the senses, and, since every thing cannot be immediately presented to the senses for their inspection,-something within us which for the present may be called reflection which is not dependent. upon the immediate sensible presence of the object for its activity, or for its power of action.

It is not of moment to the present subject, and would lead us too far astray, to discuss in detail the point, whether an external world does actually exist; a question which some, doubtless very wise philosophers, have amused themselves with discussing; and respecting which doubts

* Advancement of Learning, edit. 1633, p. 206.

De Finibus, I, § 17.