Its most consistent form, I suppose, it takes its

phenomena as feelings or sensations. These with their

relations are the elements; and the laws somewhere and

somehow come into this view. And against its opponents

Phenomenalism would urge, What else exists? "Show me

anything real," it would argue, "and I will show

you mere presentation; more is not to be discovered, and

really more is meaningless. Things and selves are not

unities in any sense whatever, except as given

collections or arrangements of such presented elements.

What appears is, as a matter of fact, grouped in such

and such manners. And then, of course, there are the

laws. When we have certain things given, then certain

other things are given too; or we know that certain

other occurrences will or may take place. There is hence

nothing but events, appearances which happen, and the

ways which these appearances have of happening. And how,

in the name of science, can any one want any more?"

The last question suggests a very obvious criticism.

The view either makes a claim to take account of all the

facts, or it makes no such claim. In the latter case

there is at once an end of its pretensions. But in the

former case it has to meet this fatal objection. All the

ways of thinking which introduce an unity into things,

into the world or the self--and there clearly is a good

deal of such thinking on hand--are of course illusory.

But, none the less, they are facts entirely undeniable.

And Phenomenalism is invited to take some account of

these facts, and to explain how on its principles their

existence is possible. How, for example, with only such

elements and their laws, is the theory of Phenomenalism

itself a possible fact? The theory seems a unity which,

if it were true, would be impossible. And an objection

of this sort has a very wide range, and applies to a

considerable area of appearance. But I am not going to

ask how Phenomenalism is prepared to reply. I will

simply say that this one objection, to those who

understand, makes an end of the business. And if there

ever has been so much as an attempt to meet this fairly,

it has escaped my notice. We may be sure beforehand that

such an effort must be wholly futile.

Thus, without our entering into any

criticism on the positive doctrine, a mere reference to

what it must admit, and yet blindly ignores, is a

sufficient refutation. But I will add a few remarks on

the inconsistencies of that which it offers us.

What it states, in the first place, as to its

elements and their relations, is unintelligible. In

actual fact, wherever you get it, these distinctions

appear and seem even to be necessary. At least I have no

notion of the way in which they could be dispensed with.

But if so, there is here at once a diversity in unity;

we have somehow together, perhaps, several elements and

some relations; and what is the meaning of "together,"

when once distinctions have been separated? And then

what sort of things are relations? Can you have elements

which are free from them even internally? And are

relations themselves not given elements, another kind of

phenomena? But, if so, what is the relation between the

first kind and the second (Cf. Chapter iii.)? Or, if

that question ends in sheer nonsense, who is responsible

for the nonsense? Consider, for instance, any fact of

sense, it does not matter what; and let Phenomenalism

attempt to state clearly what it means by its elements

and relations; let it tell us whether these two sides

are in relation with one another, or, if not that, what

else is the case. But I will pass to another point.

An obvious question arises as to events past and

future. If these, and their relations to the present,

are not to be real and in some sense to exist--then

difficulties arise into which I will not enter. But, if

past and future (or either of them) are in any sense

real, then, in the first place, the unity of this series

will be something inexplicable. And, in the second

place, a reality, not presented and not given (and even

the past is surely not given), was precisely that

against which Phenomenalism set its face. This is

another inconsistency.

Let us go on to consider the question as to

identity. This Phenomenalism should deny, because

identity is a real union of the diverse. But change is

not to be denied, for obviously it must be there when

something happens. Now, if there is change, there is by

consequence something which changes. But if it changes,

it is the same throughout a diversity. It is, in other

words, a real unity, a concrete universal. Take, for

example, the fact of motion; evidently here something

alters its place. Hence a variety of places, whatever

that means--in any case a variety--must be predicated of

one something. If so, we have at once on our hands the

One and the Many, and otherwise our theory declines to

deal with ordinary fact.

In brief, identity--being that which the doctrine

excluded--is essential to its being. And now how far is

this to go? Is the series of phenomena, with its

differences, one series? If it is not one, why treat it

as if it were so? If it is one, then here indeed is a

unity which gives us pause. Again, are the elements ever

permanent and remaining identical from one time to

another? But, whether they are or are not identical, how

are facts to be explained? Suppose, in the first place,

that we do have identical elements, surviving amid

change and the play of variety. Here are metaphysical

reals, raising the old questions we have been discussing

through this Book. But perhaps nothing is really

permanent except the laws. The problem of change is

given up, and we fall back upon our laws, persisting and

appearing in successions of fleeting elements. If so,

phenomena seem now to have become temporal illustrations

of laws.

And it is perhaps time to ask a question concerning

the nature of these last-mentioned creatures. Are they

permanent real essences, visible from time to time in

their fleeting illustrations? If so, once more

Phenomenalism has adored blindly what it

rejected. And, of course, the relations of these

essences--the one to the other, and each to the

phenomena which in some way seem its adjectives--take us

back to those difficulties which proved too hard for us.

But I presume that the reality of the laws must be

denied, or denied, that is, not quite, but with a

reservation. The laws are hypothetical; they are in

themselves but possibilities, and actual only when found

in real presentation. Apart from this, and as mere laws,

they are connections between terms which do not exist;

and, if so, as connections, they are not strictly

anything actual. In short, just as the elements were

nothing outside of presentation, so again, outside of

presentation, the laws really are nothing. And in

presentation then--what is either side, the elements or

the laws, but an unreal and quite indefensible thought?

It seems that we can say of them only that we do not

know what they are; and all that we can be certain of is

this, that they are not what we know, namely, given

phenomena.

And here we may end. The view has started with mere

presentation. It, of course, is forced to transcend

this, and it has done so ignorantly and blindly. A

little criticism has driven it back, and has left it

with a universe, which must either be distinctions

within one presentation, or else mere nonsense. And then

these distinctions themselves are quite indefensible. If

you admit them, you have to deal with the metaphysical

problem of the Many in One; and you cannot admit them,

because clearly they are not given and presented, but at

least more or less made. And what it must come to is

that Phenomenalism ends in this dilemma. It must either

keep to the moment's presentation, and must leave there

the presented entirely as it is given--and, if so, then

surely there could be no more science; or it must

"become transcendent" (as the phrase goes), and launch

out into a sea of more preposterous

inconsistencies than are perhaps to be found in any

other attempt at metaphysics. As a working point of

view, directed and confined to the ascertainment of some

special branch of truth, Phenomenalism is of course

useful and is indeed quite necessary. And the

metaphysician who attacks it when following its own

business, is likely to fare badly. But when

Phenomenalism loses its head and, becoming blatant,

steps forward as a theory of first principles, then it

is really not respectable. The best that can be said of

its pretensions is that they are ridiculous.

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CHAPTER XII

THINGS IN THEMSELVES

WE have found, so far, that we have not been able to

arrive at reality. The various ways, in which things

have been taken up, have all failed to give more than

mere appearance. Whatever we have tried has turned out

something which, on investigation, has been proved to

contradict itself. But that which does not attain to

internal unity, has clearly stopped short of genuine

reality. And, on the other hand, to sit down contented

is impossible, unless, that is we are resolved to put up

with mere confusion. For to transcend what is given is

clearly obligatory, if we are to think at all and to

have any views whatever. But, the deliverance of the

moment once left behind, we have succeeded in meeting

with nothing that holds together. Every view has been

seen only to furnish appearance, and the reality has

escaped. It has baffled us so constantly, so

persistently retreated, that in the end we are forced to

set it down as unattainable. It seems to have been

discovered to reside in another world than ours.

We have here reached a familiar way of regarding the

universe, a doctrine held with very different degrees of

comprehension. The universe, upon this view (whether it

understands itself or not), falls apart into two

regions, we may call them two hemispheres. One of these