Inadmissible. We ought not to speak of potential

existence where, if the existence were made actual, the

fact given now would be quite gone. That part of the

conditions which appears at present, must produce

causally the rest; and, in order for this to happen,

foreign matter must be added. But, if so much is added

that the individuality of this first appearance is

wholly destroyed, or is even overwhelmed and swamped--

"potential existence" is inapplicable. Thus the death of

a man may result from the lodgment of a cherry-stone;

but to speak of every cherry-stone as, therefore, the

potential death of a man, and to talk of such a death as

appearing already in any and every stone, would surely

be extravagant. For so large an amount of foreign

conditions must contribute to the result, that, in the

end, the condition and the consequence are joined

externally by chance. We may perhaps apprehend this more

clearly by a grosser instance of misuse. A piece of

bread, eaten by a poet, may be a condition required for

the production of a lyrical poem. But would any one

place such a poem's existence already virtually in each

piece of food, which may be considered likely by any

chance to make its way into a poet?

These absurdities may serve to suggest the proper

employment of our term. It is applicable wherever the

factor present is considered capable of producing the

rest; and it must effect this without the entire loss of

Its own existing character. The individuality, in other

words, must throughout the process be continuous; and

the end must very largely be due to the beginning. And

these are two aspects of one principle. For

clearly, if more than a certain amount of external

conditions are brought in, the ideal identity of the

beginning and of the end is destroyed. And, if so,

obviously the result itself was not there at the first,

and could in no rational sense have already appeared

there. The ordinary example of the egg, which itself

later becomes a fowl, is thus a legitimate application

of potential existence. On the other hand to call every

man, without distinction, a potential case of scarlet

fever, would at least border on inaccuracy. While to

assert that he now is already such products as can be

produced only by his own disintegration, would be

obviously absurd. Potential existence can, in brief, be

used only where "development" or "evolution" retains its

proper meaning. And by the meaning of evolution I do not

understand that arbitrary misuse of the term, which has

been advocated by a so-called "System of Philosophy."

Under certain conditions, then, the idea of potential

being may be employed. But I must add at once that it

can be employed nowhere with complete truth and

accuracy. For, in order for anything to evolve itself,

outer conditions must come in; and it is impossible in

the end to assign a limit to the extent of this foreign

matter. The genuine cause always must be the whole

cause, and the whole cause never could be complete until

it had taken in the universe. This is no mere

speculative refinement, but a difficulty experienced in

working; and we met it lately while enquiring into the

body and soul (Chapter xxiii.). In strictness you can

never assert that a thing will be, because of that which

it is; but, where you cannot assert this, potential

existence is partly inaccurate. It must be applied more

or less vaguely, and more or less on sufferance. We are,

in brief, placed between two dangers. If, with anything

finite, you refuse wholly to predicate its

relations--relations necessarily in part external, and

in part, therefore, variable--then your account of this

thing will fall short and be empty. But, otherwise, you

will be affirming of the thing that which only it may

be.

And, once driven to enter on this course, you are

hurried away beyond all landmarks. You are forced

indefinitely to go on expanding the subject of your

predicates, until at last it has disappeared into

something quite different. And hence, in employing

potential existence, we are, so to speak, on an inclined

plane. We start by saying, "A is such that, under

probable conditions, its nature will develope into B;

and therefore, because of this, I venture already to

call it B." And we end by claiming that, because A may

possibly be made to pass into another result C, C may,

therefore, on this account, be predicated already. And

we have to hold to this, although C, to but a very small

extent, has been produced by A, and although, in the

result, A itself may have totally vanished.

We must therefore admit that potential existence

implies, to some extent, a compromise. Its use, in fact,

cannot be defined upon a very strict principle. Still,

by bearing in mind what the term endeavours to mean, and

what it always must be taken more or less to involve, we

may, in practice, succeed in employing it conveniently

and safely. But it will remain, in the end, a wide-

spread source of confusion and danger. The more a writer

feels himself led naturally to have recourse to this

phrase, the better cause he probably has for at least

attempting to avoid it.

It may throw light on several problems, if we

consider further the general nature of Possibility and

Chance. We touched on

this subject above, when we enquired if

complete possibility is the same as reality (p. 383).

Our answer to that question may be summed up thus:

Possibility implies the separation of thought from

existence; but, on the other hand, since these two

extremes are essentially one, each, while divided from

the other, is internally defective. Hence if the

possible could be completed as such, it would have

passed into the real. But, in reaching this goal, it

would have ceased altogether to be mere thought, and it

would in consequence, therefore, be no longer

possibility.

The possible implies always the partial division of

idea from reality. It is, properly, the consequence in

thought from an ideal antecedent. It follows from a set

of conditions, a system which is never complete in

itself, and which is not taken to be real, as such,

except through part of its area. But this last

qualification is necessary. The possible, itself, is not

real; but its essence partly transcends ideas, and it

has no meaning at all unless it is possible really. It

must be developed from, and be relative to, a real

basis. And, hence, there can be no such thing as

unconditional possibility. The possible, in other words,

is always relative. And, if it attempts to be free, it

ceases to be itself.

We shall understand this, perhaps, better, if we

recall the nature of relative chance (Chapter xix.).

Chance is the given fact which falls outside of some

ideal whole or system. And any element, not included

within such an universal, is, in relation to that

universal, bare fact, and so relative chance. Chance, in

other words, would not be actual chance, if it were not

also more. It is viewed in negative relation to some

idea, but it could not exist in relation unless in

itself it were ideal already. And with relative

possibility, again, we find a counterpart implication.

The possible itself would not be possible, if it were

not more, and if it were not partially real. There must

be an actual basis in which a part of its

conditions is realized, though, by and in the possible,

this actual basis need not be expressed, but may be

merely understood. And, since the conditions are

manifold, and since the part which is taken as real is

largely variable, possibility varies accordingly. Its

way of completing itself, and in particular the actual

basis which it implies, are both capable of diversity.

Thus the possibility of an element is different,

according as it is understood in these diverse

relations. Possibility and chance, we may say, stand to

one another thus. An actual fact more or less ignores

the ideal complement which, within its own being, it

involves. And hence, if you view it merely in relation

to some system which falls outside itself, the actual

fact is, so far, chance. The possible, on the other

hand, explicitly isolates one part of the ideal

complement, and, at the same time, implies, more or less

vaguely, its real completion. It fluctuates, therefore,

with the various conditions which are taken as necessary

to complete it. But of these conditions part must have

actual existence, or must, as such, be real.

And this account still holds good, when we pass to

the lowest grade of possibility. I take an idea, which,

in the first place, I cannot call unmeaning. And this

idea, secondly, I do not see to contradict itself or the

Reality. I therefore assume that it has not this defect.

And, merely on the strength of this, I go on to call

such an idea possible. It might seem as if here we had

passed from relative to unconditional possibility; but

that view would be erroneous. The possible here is still

a consequence from conditions, part of which is actual.

For, though of its special conditions we know nothing,

we are not quite ignorant. We have assumed in it more or

less of the general character, material and formal,

which is owned by Reality. This character is its actual

basis and real ground of possibility. And,

without this, the idea would cease altogether to be

possible.

What are we to say then about the possibility, or

about the chance, which is bare, and which is not

relative, but absolute and unconditional? We must say of

either that it presents one aspect of the same

fundamental error. Each expresses in a different way the

same main self-contradiction; and it may perhaps be

worth while to exhibit this in detail. With mere

possibility the given want of all connection with the

Real is construed into a ground for positive

predication. Bare chance, again, gives us as a fact, and

gives us therefore in relation, an element which it

still persists is unrelated. I will go on to explain

this statement.

I have an idea, and, because in my opinion I know

nothing about it, I am to call it possible. Now, if the

idea has a meaning, and is taken not to contradict

itself, this (as we have seen) is, at once, a positive

character in the idea. And this gives a known reason

for, at once so far, regarding it as actual. And such a

possibility, because in relation with an attribute of

the Real, we have seen, is still but a relative

possibility. In absolute possibility we are supposed to

be without this knowledge. There, merely because I do

not find any relation between my idea and the Reality, I

am to assert, upon this, that my idea is compatible. And

the assertion clearly is inconsistent. Compatible means

that which in part is perceived to be true; it means

that which internally is connected with the Real. And

this implies assimilation, and it involves penetration

of the element by some quality or qualities of the Real.

If the element is compatible it will be preserved,

though with a greater or less destruction of its

particular character. But in bare possibility I have

perverted the sense of compatible. Because I find

absence of incompatibility, because, that is, I

am without a certain perception, I am to call my idea

compatible. On the ground of my sheer ignorance, in

other words, I am to know that my idea is assimilated,

and that, to a greater or less extent, it will survive

in Reality. But such a position is irrational.

That which is unconditionally possible is viewed

apart from, and is supposed to remain undetermined by,

relation to the Real. There are no seen relations, and

therefore none, and therefore no alien relations which

can penetrate and dissolve our supposed idea. And we

hold to this, even when the idea is applied to the Real.

But a relation to the Real implies essentially a

relation to what the Real possesses, and hence to have

no relations of one's own means to have them all from

the outside. Bare possibility is therefore, against its

will, one extreme of relatedness. For it is conjoined de

facto with the Reality, as we have that in our minds;

and, since the conjunction is external, the relatedness