An Introduction to Philosophy

CES AND

ven in our experience. There is an objective order, and we are all capable of distinguishing between it and the subj

. We all make a distinction between things

present itself to his mind is this: Whatever we can see, hear, touch, taste, or smell may

elf: The colors of objects vary according to the light, and according to the position and distance of the objects; can we say that any object has a real

ted in a forlorn distrust of the testimony of the senses, and

d to make such extravagant statements as that there is no such thing as truth, and that every appearance is as real as any other,

esents the tree. Suppose that we walk toward the tree. Do we continue to see what we saw before? Of course, we say that we continue to see the same tree; but it is plain that what we immediately perceive, what is given in cons

iences, no two of which were just alike, and each of which was taken as a representative of the tree. Which of these representat

o make it would be puzzled to tell by what right they pick out of the whole series of experiences, each of which represents the tree as seen from some particular position, one individual experience, which they claim not

eal tree that we are supposed to se

y look, the apparent, and things as they are, the real, is at bottom the distinction between things as presented to the s

and grows larger. Why do we speak as we do? It is because, all along the line, we mean by the real tree, not what is given to the sense of sight, but something for which this stands as a sign. This something must be given in our experience somewhere, we must be able to perceive it under some circumstances or other, or it would never occur

sense to say that what we see is far away, if by what we see we mean the visual experience itself. As soon as we move we lose that visual experience and get another, and to recover the one we lost we must go back where we were before. When we say we see a tree at a distance, we

l positions, distances, and magnitudes, we are always referring to this world. But this is a world revealed in our experience, and it does not seem a hopeless t

cumstances he sees the tree as it is and under others he does not? What he is really asserting is that one

nces? Is it not just as true that the tree only looks green under certain circumstances? Is color any part of

rasted with the apparent, means to us the world that is revealed in experiences of touch and m

We all admit that a white house may look pink under the rays of the setting sun, and we never call it a pink house. W

ree looks green when it is seen most satisfactorily. In each case, the real color of the thing is the color that it has under circumstances that strike us as normal or as important. We cannot say that we always regard as most real that aspect under which we most commonly perceive things, for if a more unusual experience is more serviceable and really gives us more in

ome back to the real world of things presented in sensations of touch. All other classes of sensations may be regarded as related to this as the series of

ce? We have already seen (section 8) that science does not regard as anything more t

f filled spaces and empty spaces. I am told that it is composed of molecules in rapid motion and at considerable distances from one another. I a

e referred them, is, after all, itself only an appearance? The touch things which I have hitherto regarded as the real things that make up the external world, the touch things for which all my vis

arance. What, then, is the external world? What are things really like? Can we give any true account of them, or are we forced t

here is space as a whole? does not deserve a serious answer to his questions. And it is well to remember that he who asks: What is the external world like? must keep his question a significant one, if he is to retain his right to lo

i.e. it must be given in terms of our experience of things. The only legitimate problem is to give a true account

ich every experience is real; it is, at least, an experience; but when he contrasts real and apparent he means something more than this. Experiences are not relegated to this class or to that merely at random, but the final decision is the outcome of a long experience of the differences which ch

led in experiences of touch. When he asks regarding anything: How far away is it? How big is it? In what directio

ly minute touch things, conceived just as are the things with which the plain man is familiar. They exist in space and move about in space, as the things about us are perceived to exist in space and move about in space. They have size and position,

everyday experiences. The great majority of the touch things about us we are not actually touching at any given moment. We only see the things, i.e. we have certain signs of their presence. None the less we believe that the things exist all the time. And in the same way the man of science does not doubt the existence of the rea

es of the word "real." What is the real external world to the plain man? It is the world of touch things, of objects upon which he can lay his hands. What is the real external

in common life, he refers to this world just as the plain man does. He sees a tree and walks towards it, and distinguishes between its real and its apparent color, its real and its apparent s

od as the interpreter of all those diverse visual sensations that we have called different views of the tree? They are still the appearances, and it, relatively to them, is the reality. Now we find that it, in its turn, can be used as a sign of

rnal world is to this man or to that man; I want to know what

s of common life to the real things of science, and to look upon the former as appearance. Now, a man may arbitrarily decide that he will use the word "reality" to indicate only that which can never in its turn be reg

in kind from what it was before. The only difference between such a knowledge of things and a knowledge of things not known to be ultimate would be that, in the former case, it wou

talking about appearance and reality, as if our words really meant something, when we have qui

realities. The visual experience which I call the house as seen from a distance I never think of taking for a representative of the hat which I hold in my hand. This visual experience I refer to its own appropriate touch thing, and not to another. If what looks like a beefst

it would be silly for me to refer it to atoms "in general." The reality to which I refer the appearance in question is a particular group of atoms existing at a particular point in space. The chemist never supposes that the atoms within the walls of his test-tube are identical with those in the vial on the shelf. Neither in common life nor in scie

servation and reflection—all is, in the last analysis, material which is given us in sensation. The various senses furnish us with different classes of sensations; we work these up into certain complexes. But sensations are only the impressions which something outside of us

of thought, compelled to think of these in relation to a cause—the notion of a real existence which generated these impressions becomes nascent. If it be proved that every notion of a real existence which we can frame is inconsistent with itself,—that matter

Sometimes Mr. Spencer calls this reality the Unknowable, sometimes he calls it the Absolute, and sometimes he allows it to pass by a var

telephone exchange" discussed in the third chapter. But if the reader feels within himself the least wea

rvation to the effect that other bodies affecting our bodies may give rise to sensations. In this case we cannot say that we

ur sensations are due to messages which come from "external things" and are conducted along the nerves. It is then, absurd to talk o

its wires and subscribers, we may refer the messages received to the subsc

e have heretofore called "messages," then it is palpably absurd to refer the "messages" as a whole to subscribers not supposed to be composed of "messages"; and it

ly known subscribers, but the very notion of a subscriber. It will not do to try to

lling the Unknowable a reality, we blunder in our use of the word. The Unknowable cannot be an experience either actual, possible, or conceived as poss

r particular appearances to their own appropriate realities. The realities to which we actually refer appearances serve to explain them. Thus, when I ask: Why do I perceive that tree now as faint and blue and now as vivid and green? the answer to the question is found in the notion of distance and position in s

will a reference to the Unknowable explain why the experiences differed? Was the Unknowable in the one instance farther off in an unknowable space, and in the other nearer? This, even if it means anything, must remain unknowable. And when the chemist puts

urning for an explanation to the Unknowable. It is a life-preserver by which some s

at we know what it is. That some know it imperfectly, that others know it better, and that we may hope that some

Part I, Chapter IV, se