Kant's Theory of Knowledge Part 8

something which exists independently of the mind which comes to know it. Whatever is true, this is not. Whatever be the criticism to which Kant's doctrine is exposed in detail, it contains one inexpugnable thesis, viz. that the thing in itself cannot be known. Unless the physical world stands in essential relation to the mind, it is impossible to understand how it can be known. This position being una.s.sailable, any criticism of an idealistic theory must be compatible with it, and therefore confined to details. Moreover, Kant's view can be transformed into one which will defy criticism. Its unsatisfactory character lies in the fact that in regarding the physical world as dependent on the mind, it really alters the character of the world by reducing the world to a succession of 'appearances' which, as such, can only be mental, i. e. can only belong to the mind's own being.

Bodies, as being really appearances in the mind, are regarded as on the level of transitory mental occurrences, and as thereby at least resembling feelings and sensations. This consequence, however, can be avoided by maintaining that the real truth after which Kant was groping was that knower and known form an inseparable unity, and that, therefore, any reality which is not itself a knower, or the knowing of a knower, presupposes a mind which knows it. In that case nothing is suggested as to the special nature of the reality known, and, in particular, it is not implied to be a transitory element of the mind's own being. The contention merely attributes to any reality, conceived to have the special nature ordinarily attributed to it, the additional characteristic that it is known. Consequently, on this view, the physical world can retain the permanence ordinarily attributed to it.

To the objection that, at any rate, _our_ knowledge is transitory, and that if the world is relative to it the world also must be transitory, it may be replied--though with some sense of uneasiness--that the world must be considered relative not to us as knowers, but to a knower who knows always and completely, and whose knowing is in some way identical with ours. Further, the view so transformed has two other advantages. In the first place, it renders it possible to dispense with what has been called the Mrs. Harris of philosophy, the thing in itself. As Kant states his position, the thing in itself must be retained, for it is impossible to believe that there is no reality other than what is mental. But if the physical world need not be considered to be a succession of mental occurrences, it can be considered to be the reality which is not mental. In the second place, knowledge proper is vindicated, for on this view we do not know 'only' phenomena; we know the reality which is not mental, and we know it as it is, for it is as object of knowledge.'

'Moreover, the contention must be true, and must form the true basis of idealism. For the driving force of idealism is furnished by the question, 'How can the mind and reality come into the relation which we call knowledge?' This question is unanswerable so long as reality is thought to stand in no essential relation to the knowing mind.

Consequently, in the end, knowledge and reality must be considered inseparable. Again, even if it be conceded that the mind in some way gains access to an independent reality, it is impossible to hold that the mind can really know it. For the reality cannot in the relation of knowledge be what it is apart from this relation. It must become in some way modified or altered in the process. Hence the mind cannot on this view know the reality as it is. On the other hand, if the reality is essentially relative to a knower, the knower knows it as it is, for what it is is what it is in this relation.'

The fundamental objection, however, to this line of thought is that it contradicts the very nature of knowledge. Knowledge unconditionally presupposes that the reality known exists independently of the knowledge of it, and that we know it as it exists in this independence. It is simply _impossible_ to think that any reality depends upon our knowledge of it, or upon any knowledge of it. If there is to be knowledge, there must first _be_ something to be known.

In other words, knowledge is essentially discovery, or the finding of what already is. If a reality could only be or come to be in virtue of some activity or process on the part of the mind, that activity or process would not be 'knowing', but 'making' or 'creating', and to make and to know must in the end be admitted to be mutually exclusive.[1]

[1] Cf. pp. 235-6.

This presupposition that what is known exists independently of being known is quite general, and applies to feeling and sensation just as much as to parts of the physical world. It must in the end be conceded of a toothache as much as of a stone that it exists independently of the knowledge of it. There must be a pain to be attended to or noticed, which exists independently of our attention or notice. The true reason for a.s.serting feeling and sensation to be dependent on the mind is that they presuppose not a knowing, but a feeling and a sentient subject respectively. Again, it is equally presupposed that knowing in no way alters or modifies the thing known. We can no more think that in apprehending a reality we do not apprehend it as it is apart from our knowledge of it, than we can think that its existence depends upon our knowledge of it. Hence, if 'things in themselves'

means 'things existing independently of the knowledge of them', knowledge is essentially of 'things in themselves'. It is, therefore, unnecessary to consider whether idealism is a.s.sisted by the supposition of a non-finite knowing mind, correlated with reality as a whole. For reality must equally be independent of it. Consequently, if the issue between idealism and realism is whether the physical world is or is not dependent on the mind, it cannot turn upon a dependence in respect of knowledge.

That the issue does not turn upon knowledge is confirmed by our instinctive procedure when we are asked whether the various realities which we suppose ourselves to know depend upon the mind. Our natural procedure is not to treat them simply as realities and to ask whether, as realities, they involve a mind to know them, but to treat them as realities of the particular kind to which they belong, and to consider relation to the mind of some kind other than that of knowledge. We should say, for instance, that a toothache or an emotion, as being a feeling, presupposes a mind capable of feeling, whose feeling it is; for if the mind be thought of as withdrawn, the pain or the feeling must also be thought of as withdrawn. We should say that an act of thinking presupposes a mind which thinks. We should, however, naturally deny that an act of thinking or knowing, in order to be, presupposes that it is known either by the thinker whose act it is, or by any other mind. In other words, we should say that knowing presupposes a mind, not as something which _knows_ the knowing, but as something which _does_ the knowing. Again, we should naturally say that the shape or the weight of a stone is _not_ dependent on the mind which perceives the stone. The shape, we should say, would disappear with the disappearance of the stone, but would not disappear with the disappearance of the mind which perceives the stone. Again, we should a.s.sert that the stone itself, so far from depending on the mind which perceives it, has an independent being of its own. We might, of course, find difficulty in deciding whether a reality of some particular kind, e. g. a colour, is dependent on a mind. But, in any case, we should think that the ground for decision lay in the special character of the reality in question, and should not treat it merely as a reality related to the mind as something known. We should ask, for instance, whether a colour, as a colour, involves a mind which sees, and not whether a colour, as a reality, involves its being known. Our natural procedure, then, is to divide realities into two cla.s.ses, those which depend on a mind, and may therefore be called mental, and those which do not, and to conclude that some realities depend upon the mind, while others do not. We thereby ignore a possible dependence of realities on their being known; for not only is the dependence which we recognize of some other kind, e. g. in respect of feeling or sentience, but if the dependence were in respect of knowledge, we could not distinguish in respect of dependence between one reality and another.

Further, if reality be allowed to exist independently of knowledge, it is easy to see that, from the idealist's point of view, Kant's procedure was essentially right, and that all idealism, when pressed, must prove subjective; in other words, that the idealist must hold that the mind can only know what is mental and belongs to its own being, and that the so-called physical world is merely a succession of appearances. Moreover, our instinctive procedure[2] is justified. For, in the first place, since it is impossible to think that a reality depends for its existence upon being known, it is impossible to reach an idealistic conclusion by taking into account relation by way of knowledge; and if this be the relation considered, the only conclusion can be that all reality is independent of the mind. Again, since knowledge is essentially of reality as it is apart from its being known, the a.s.sertion that a reality is dependent upon the mind is an a.s.sertion of the kind of thing which it is in itself, apart from its being known.[3] And when we come to consider what we mean by saying of a reality that it depends upon the mind, we find we mean that it is in its own nature of such a kind as to disappear with the disappearance of the mind, or, more simply, that it is of the kind called mental.

Hence, we can only decide that a particular reality depends upon the mind by appeal to its special character. We cannot treat it simply as a reality the relation of which to the mind is solely that of knowledge. And we can only decide that all reality is dependent upon the mind by appeal to the special character of all the kinds of reality of which we are aware. Hence, Kant in the _Aesthetic_, and Berkeley before him, were essentially right in their procedure. They both ignored consideration of the world simply as a reality, and appealed exclusively to its special character, the one arguing that in its special character as spatial and temporal it presupposed a percipient, and the other endeavouring to show that the primary qualities are as relative to perception as the secondary.

Unfortunately for their view, in order to think of bodies in s.p.a.ce as dependent on the mind, it is necessary to think of them as being in the end only certain sensations or certain combinations of sensations which may be called appearances. For only sensations or combinations of them can be thought of as at once dependent on the mind, and capable with any plausibility of being identified with bodies in s.p.a.ce. In other words, in order to think of the world as dependent on the mind, we have to think of it as consisting only of a succession of appearances, and in fact Berkeley, and, at certain times, Kant, did think of it in this way.

[2] Cf. p. 119.

[3] Though not apart from relation to the mind of some other kind.

That this is the inevitable result of idealism is not noticed, so long as it is supposed that the essential relation of realities to the mind consists in their being known; for, as we have seen, nothing is thereby implied as to their special nature. To say of a reality that it is essentially an object of knowledge is merely to add to the particular nature ordinarily attributed to the existent in question the further characteristic that it must be known.[4] Moreover, since in fact, though contrary to the theory, any reality exists independently of the knowledge of it, when the relation thought of between a reality and the mind is _solely_ that of knowledge, the realities can be thought of as independent of the mind. Consequently, the physical world can be thought to have that independence of the mind which the ordinary man attributes to it, and, therefore, need not be conceived as only a succession of appearances. But the advantage of this form of idealism is really derived from the very fact which it is the aim of idealism in general to deny. For the conclusion that the physical world consists of a succession of appearances is only avoided by taking into account the relation of realities to the mind by way of knowledge, and, then, without being aware of the inconsistency, making use of the independent existence of the reality known.

[4] Cf. p. 116.

Again, that the real contrary to realism is _subjective_ idealism is confirmed by the history of the theory of knowledge from Descartes onwards. For the initial supposition which has originated and sustained the problem is that in knowledge the mind is, at any rate in the first instance, confined within itself. This supposition granted, it has always seemed that, while there is no difficulty in understanding the mind's acquisition of knowledge of what belongs to its own being, it is difficult, if not impossible, to understand how it can acquire knowledge of what does not belong to its own being.

Further, since the physical world is ordinarily thought of as something which does not belong to the mind's own being, the problem has always been not 'How is it possible to know anything?' but 'How is it possible to know a particular kind of reality, viz. the physical world?' Moreover, in consequence of the initial supposition, any answer to this question has always presupposed that our apprehension of the physical world is indirect. Since _ex hypothesi_ the mind is confined within itself, it can only apprehend a reality independent of it through something within the mind which 'represents' or 'copies'

the reality; and it is perhaps Hume's chief merit that he showed that no such solution is possible, or, in other words, that, on the given supposition, knowledge of the physical world is impossible.

Now the essential weakness of this line of thought lies in the initial supposition that the mind can only apprehend what belongs to its own being. It is as much a fact of our experience that we directly apprehend bodies in s.p.a.ce, as that we directly apprehend our feelings and sensations. And, as has already been shown,[5] what is spatial cannot be thought to belong to the mind's own being on the ground that it is relative to perception. Further, if it is legitimate to ask, 'How can we apprehend what does not belong to our being?' it is equally legitimate to ask, 'How can we apprehend what does belong to our own being?' It is wholly arbitrary to limit the question to the one kind of reality. If a question is to be put at all, it should take the form, 'How is it possible to apprehend anything?' But this question has only to be put to be discarded. For it amounts to a demand to _explain_ knowledge; and any answer to it would involve the derivation of knowledge from what was not knowledge, a task which must be as impossible as the derivation of s.p.a.ce from time or of colour from sound. Knowledge is _sui generis_, and, as such, cannot be explained.[6]

[5] Cf. pp. 89-91.

[6] This a.s.sertion, being self-evident, admits of no direct proof. A 'proof' can only take the form of showing that any supposed 'derivation' or 'explanation' of knowledge presupposes knowledge in that from which it derives it.

Professor Cook Wilson has pointed out that we must understand what knowing is in order to explain anything at all, so that any proposed explanation of knowing would necessarily presuppose that we understood what knowing is. For the general doctrine, cf. p. 245.

Moreover, it may be noted that the support which this form of idealism sometimes receives from an argument which uses the terms 'inside' and 'outside' the mind is unmerited. At first sight it seems a refutation of the plain man's view to argue thus: 'The plain man believes the spatial world to exist whether any one knows it or not. Consequently, he allows that the world is outside the mind. But, to be known, a reality must be inside the mind. Therefore, the plain man's view renders knowledge impossible.' But, as soon as it is realized that 'inside the mind' and 'outside the mind' are metaphors, and, therefore, must take their meaning from their context, it is easy to see that the argument either rests on an equivocation or a.s.sumes the point at issue. The a.s.sertion that the world is outside the mind, being only a metaphorical expression of the plain man's view, should only mean that the world is something independent of the mind, as opposed to something inside the mind, in the sense of dependent upon it, or mental. But the a.s.sertion that, to be known, a reality must be inside the mind, if it is to be incontestably true, should only mean that a reality, to be apprehended, must really be object of apprehension. And in this case 'being inside the mind', since it only means 'being object of apprehension', is not the opposite of 'being outside the mind' in the previous a.s.sertion. Hence, on this interpretation, the second a.s.sertion is connected with the first only apparently and by an equivocation; there is really no argument at all.

If, however, the equivocation is to be avoided, 'inside the mind' in the second a.s.sertion must be the opposite of 'outside the mind' in the first, and consequently the second must mean that a reality, to be known, must be dependent on the mind, or mental. But in that case the objection to the plain man's view is a _pet.i.tio principii_, and not an argument.

Nevertheless, the tendency to think that the only object or, at least, the only direct object of the mind is something mental still requires explanation. It seems due to a tendency to treat self-consciousness as similar to consciousness of the world. When in reflection we turn our attention away from the world to the activity by which we come to know it, we tend to think of our knowledge of the world as a reality to be apprehended similar to the world which we apprehended prior to reflection. We thereby implicitly treat this knowledge as something which, like the world, merely _is_ and is not the knowledge of anything; in other words, we imply that, so far from being knowledge, i. e. the knowing of a reality, it is precisely that which we distinguish from knowledge, viz. a reality to be known, although--since knowledge must be mental--we imply that it is a reality of the special kind called mental. But if the knowledge upon which we reflect is thus treated as consisting in a mental reality which merely _is_, it is implied that in this knowledge the world is not, at any rate directly, object of the mind, for _ex hypothesi_ a reality which merely _is_ and is not the knowledge of anything has no object. Hence it comes to be thought that the only object or, at least, the only direct object of the mind is this mental reality itself, which is the object of reflection; in other words, that the only immediate object of the mind comes to be thought of as its own idea. The root of the mistake lies in the initial supposition--which, it may be noted, seems to underlie the whole treatment of knowledge by empirical psychology--that knowledge can be treated as a reality to be apprehended, in the way in which any reality which is not knowledge is a reality to be apprehended.

We may now revert to that form of idealism which maintains that the essential relation of reality to the mind is that of _being known_, in order to consider two lines of argument by which it may be defended.

According to the first of these, the view of the plain man either is, or at least involves, materialism; and materialism is demonstrably absurd. The plain man's view involves the existence of the physical world prior to the existence of the knowledge of it, and therefore also prior to the existence of minds which know it, since it is impossible to separate the existence of a knowing mind from its actual knowledge. From this it follows that mere matter, having only the qualities considered by the physicist, must somehow have originated or produced knowing and knowing minds. But this production is plainly impossible. For matter, possessing solely, as it does, characteristics bound up with extension and motion, cannot possibly have originated activities of a wholly different kind, or beings capable of exercising them.

It may, however, be replied that the supposed consequence, though absurd, does not really follow from the plain man's realism.

Doubtless, it would be impossible for a universe consisting solely of the physical world to originate thought or beings capable of thinking.

But the real presupposition of the coming into existence of human knowledge at a certain stage in the process of the universe is to be found in the pre-existence, not of a mind or minds which always actually knew, but simply of a mind or minds in which, under certain conditions, knowledge is necessarily actualized. A mind cannot be the product of anything or, at any rate, of anything but a mind. It cannot be a new reality introduced at some time or other into a universe of realities of a wholly different order. Therefore, the presupposition of the present existence of knowledge is the pre-existence of a mind or minds; it is not implied that its or their knowledge must always have been actual. In other words, knowing implies the ultimate or unoriginated existence of beings possessed of the capacity to know.

Otherwise, knowledge would be a merely derivative product, capable of being stated in terms of something else, and in the end in terms of matter and motion. This implication is, however, in no wise traversed by the plain man's realism. For that implies, not that the existence of the physical world is prior to the existence of a mind, but only that it is prior to a mind's actual knowledge of the world.

The second line of thought appeals to the logic of relation. It may be stated thus. If a term is relative, i. e. is essentially 'of' or relative to another, that other is essentially relative to it. Just as a doctor, for instance, is essentially a doctor of a patient, so a patient is essentially the patient of a doctor. As a ruler implies subjects, so subjects imply a ruler. As a line essentially has points at its ends, so points are essentially ends of a line. Now knowledge is essentially 'of' or relative to reality. Reality, therefore, is essentially relative to or implies the knowledge of it. And this correlativity of knowledge and reality finds linguistic confirmation in the terms 'subject' and 'object'. For, linguistically, just as a subject is always the subject of an object, so an object is always the object of a subject.

Nevertheless, further a.n.a.lysis of the nature of relative terms, and in particular of knowledge, does not bear out this conclusion. To take the case of a doctor. It is true that if some one is healing, some one else is receiving treatment, i. e. is being healed; and 'patient'

being the name for the recipient of treatment, we can express this fact by saying that a doctor is essentially the doctor of a patient.

Further, it is true that a recipient of treatment implies a giver of it, as much as a giver of it implies a recipient. Hence we can truly say that since a doctor is the doctor of a patient, a patient is the patient of a doctor, meaning thereby that since that to which a doctor is relative is a patient, a patient must be similarly relative to a doctor. There is, however, another statement which can be made concerning a doctor. We can say that a doctor is a doctor of a human being who is ill, i. e. a sick man. But in this case we cannot go on to say that since a doctor is a doctor of a sick man, a sick man implies or is relative to a doctor. For we mean that the kind of reality capable of being related to a doctor as his patient is a sick man; and from this it does not follow that a reality of this kind does stand in this relation. Doctoring implies a sick man; a sick man does not imply that some one is treating him. We can only say that since a doctor is the doctor of a sick man, a sick man implies the possibility of doctoring. In the former case the terms, viz. 'doctor' and 'patient', are inseparable because they signify the relation in question in different aspects. The relation is one fact which has two inseparable 'sides', and, consequently, the terms must be inseparable which signify the relation respectively from the point of view of the one side and from the point of view of the other. Neither term signifies the nature of the elements which can stand in the relation.

In the latter case, however, the terms, viz. 'doctor' and 'sick man', signify respectively the relation in question (in one aspect), and the nature of one of the elements capable of entering into it; consequently they are separable.

Now when it is said that knowledge is essentially knowledge of reality, the statement is parallel to the a.s.sertion that a doctor is essentially the doctor of a sick man, and not to the a.s.sertion that a doctor is essentially the doctor of a patient. It should mean that that which is capable of being related to a knower as his object is something which is or exists; consequently it cannot be said that since knowledge is of reality, reality must essentially be known. The parallel to the a.s.sertion that a doctor is the doctor of a patient is the a.s.sertion that knowledge is the knowledge of an object; for just as 'patient' means that which receives treatment from a doctor, so 'object' means that which is known. And here we _can_ go on to make the further parallel a.s.sertion that since knowledge is essentially the knowledge of an object, an object is essentially an object of knowledge. Just as 'patient' means a recipient of treatment, or, more accurately, a sick man under treatment, so 'object' means something known, or, more accurately, a reality known. And 'knowledge' and 'object of knowledge', like 'doctor' and 'patient', indicate the same relation, though from different points of view, and, consequently, when we can use the one term, we can use the other. But to say that an object (i. e. a reality known) implies the knowledge of it is not to say that reality implies the knowledge of it, any more than to say that a patient implies a doctor is to say that a sick man implies a doctor.

But a doctor, it might be objected, is not a fair parallel to knowledge or a knower. A doctor, though an instance of a relative term, is only an instance of one kind of relative term, that in which the elements related are capable of existing apart from the relation, the relation being one in which they can come to stand and cease to stand. But there is another kind of relative term, in which the elements related presuppose the relation, and any thought of these elements involves the thought of the relation. A universal, e. g.

whiteness, is always the universal of certain individuals, viz.

individual whites; an individual, e. g. this white, is always an individual of a universal, viz. whiteness. A genus is the genus of a species, and vice versa. A surface is the surface of a volume, and a volume implies a surface. A point is the end of a line, and a line is bounded by points. In such cases the very being of the elements related involves the relation, and, apart from the relation, disappears. The difference between the two kinds of relative terms can be seen from the fact that only in the case of the former kind can two elements be found of which we can say significantly that their relation is of the kind in question. We can say of two men that they are related as doctor and patient, or as father and son, for we can apprehend two beings as men without being aware of them as so related.

But of no two elements is it possible to say that their relation is that of universal and individual, or of genus and species, or of surface and volume; for to apprehend elements which are so related we must apprehend them so related.[7] To apprehend a surface is to apprehend a surface of a volume. To apprehend a volume is to apprehend a volume bounded by a surface. To apprehend a universal is to apprehend it as the universal of an individual, and vice versa.[8] In the case of relations of this kind, the being of either element which stands in the relation is relative to that of the other; neither can be real without the other, as we see if we try to think of one without the other. And it is at least possible that knowledge and reality or, speaking more strictly, a knower and reality, are related in this way.

[7] It is, of course, possible to say significantly that two elements, A and B, are related as universal and individual, or as surface and volume, if we are trying to explain what we mean by 'universal and individual' or 'surface and volume'; but in that case we are elucidating the relations.h.i.+p through the already known relation of A and B, and are not giving information about the hitherto unknown relation of A and B.

[8] Professor Cook Wilson has pointed out that the distinction between these two kinds of relation is marked in language in that, for instance, while we speak of the 'relation _of_ universal _and_ individual', we speak of 'the relation _between_ one man _and_ another', or of 'the relation _of_ one man _to_ another', using, however, the phrase 'the relation _of_ doctor _and_ patient', when we consider two men only as in that relation.

I owe to him recognition of the fact that the use of the word 'relation' in connexion with such terms as 'universal and individual' is really justified.

What is, however, at least a strong presumption against this view is to be found in the fact that while relations of the second kind are essentially non-temporal, the relation of knowing is essentially temporal. The relation of a universal and its individuals, or of a surface and the volume which it bounds, does not either come to be, or persist, or cease. On the other hand, it is impossible to think of a knowing which is susceptible of no temporal predicates and is not bound up with a process; and the thought of knowing as something which comes to be involves the thought that the elements which become thus related exist independently of the relation. Moreover, the real refutation of the view lies in the fact that, when we consider what we really think, we find that we think that the relation between a knower and reality is not of the second kind. If we consider what we mean by 'a reality', we find that we mean by it something which is not correlative to a mind knowing it. It does not mean something the thought of which disappears with the thought of a mind actually knowing it, but something which, though it can be known by a mind, need not be actually known by a mind. Again, just as we think of a reality as something which _can_ stand as object in the relation of knowledge, without necessarily being in this relation, so, as we see when we reflect, we think of a knowing mind as something which _can_ stand as subject in this relation without necessarily being in the relation. For though we think of the capacities which const.i.tute the nature of a knowing mind as only recognized through their actualizations, i. e. through actual knowing, we think of the mind which is possessed of these capacities as something apart from their actualization.

It is now possible to direct attention to two characteristics of perception and knowledge with which Kant's treatment of s.p.a.ce and time conflicts, and the recognition of which reveals his procedure in its true light.

It has been already urged that both knowledge and perception--which, though not identical with knowledge, is presupposed by it--are essentially of _reality_. Now, in the _first_ place, it is thereby implied that the relation between the mind and reality in knowledge or in perception is essentially direct, i. e. that there is no _tertium quid_ in the form of an 'idea' or a 'representation' between us as perceiving or knowing and what we perceive or know. In other words, it is implied that Locke's view is wrong in principle, and, in fact, the contrary of the truth. In the _second_ place, it is implied that while the whole fact of perception includes the reality perceived and the whole fact of knowledge includes the reality known, since both perception and knowledge are 'of', and therefore inseparable from a reality, yet the reality perceived or known is essentially distinct from, and cannot be stated in terms of, the perception or the knowledge. Just as neither perception nor knowledge can be stated in terms of the reality perceived or known from which they are distinguished, so the reality perceived or known cannot be stated in terms of the perception or the knowledge. In other words, the terms 'perception' and 'knowledge' ought to stand for the activities of perceiving and knowing respectively, and not for the reality perceived or known. Similarly, the terms 'idea' and 'representation'--the latter of which has been used as a synonym for Kant's _Vorstellung_--ought to stand not for something thought of or represented, but for the act of thinking or representing.

Further, this second implication throws light on the proper meaning of the terms 'form of perception' and 'form of knowledge or of thought'.

For, in accordance with this implication, a 'form of perception' and a 'form of knowledge' ought to refer to the nature of our acts of perceiving and knowing or thinking respectively, and not to the nature of the realities perceived or known. Consequently, Kant was right in making the primary ant.i.thesis involved in the term 'form of perception' that between a way in which we perceive and a way in which things are, or, in other words, between a characteristic of our perceiving nature and a characteristic of the reality perceived.

Moreover, Kant was also right in making this distinction a real ant.i.thesis and not a mere distinction within one and the same thing regarded from two points of view. That which is a form of perception cannot also be a form of the reality and vice versa. Thus we may ill.u.s.trate a perceived form of perception by pointing out that our apprehension of the physical world (1) is a temporal process, and (2) is conditioned by perspective. Both the succession and the conditions of perspective belong to the act of perception, and do not form part of the nature of the world perceived. And it is significant that in our ordinary consciousness it never occurs to us to attribute either the perspective or the time to the reality perceived. Even if it be difficult in certain cases, as in that of colour, to decide whether something belongs to our act of perception or not, we never suppose that it can be _both_ a form of perception _and_ a characteristic of the reality perceived. We think that if it be the one, it cannot be the other.

Moreover, if we pa.s.s from perception to knowledge or thought--which in this context may be treated as identical--and seek to ill.u.s.trate a form of knowledge or of thought, we may cite the distinction of logical subject and logical predicate of a judgement. The distinction as it should be understood--for it does not necessitate a difference of grammatical form--may be ill.u.s.trated by the difference between the judgements 'Chess is the _most trying of games_' and '_Chess_ is the most trying of games'. In the former case 'chess' is the logical subject, in the latter case it is the logical predicate. Now this distinction clearly does not reside in or belong to the reality about which we judge; it relates solely to the order of our approach in thought to various parts of its nature. For, to take the case of the former judgement, in calling 'chess' its subject, and 'most trying of games' its predicate, we are a.s.serting that in this judgement we begin by apprehending the reality of which we are thinking as chess, and come to apprehend it as the most trying of games. In other words, the distinction relates solely to the order of our apprehension, and not to anything in the thing apprehended.

In view of the preceding, it is possible to make clear the nature of certain mistakes on Kant's part. In the first place, s.p.a.ce, and time also, so far as we are thinking of the world, and not of our apprehension of it, as undergoing a temporal process, are essentially characteristics not of perception but of the reality perceived, and Kant, in treating s.p.a.ce, and time, so regarded, as forms of perception, is really transferring to the perceiving subject that which in the whole fact 'perception of an object' or 'object perceived' belongs to the object.

Again, if we go on to ask how Kant manages to avoid drawing the conclusion proper to this transference, viz. that s.p.a.ce and time are not characteristics of any realities at all, but belong solely to the process by which we come to apprehend them, we see that he does so because, in effect, he contravenes both the characteristics of perception referred to. For, in the first place, although in conformity with his theory he almost always _speaks_ of s.p.a.ce and time in terms of perception,[9] he consistently _treats_ them as features of the reality perceived, i. e. of phenomena. Thus in arguing that s.p.a.ce and time belong not to the understanding but to the sensibility, although he uniformly speaks of them as perceptions, his argument implies that they are objects of perception; for its aim, properly stated, is to show that s.p.a.ce and time are not objects of thought but objects of perception. Consequently, in his treatment of s.p.a.ce and time, he refers to what are both to him and in fact objects of perception in terms of perception, and thereby contravenes the second implication of perception to which attention has been drawn. Again, in the second place, if we go on to ask how Kant is misled into doing this, we see that it is because he contravenes the first implication of perception. In virtue of his theory of perception[10] he interposes a _tertium quid_ between the reality perceived and the percipient, in the shape of an 'appearance'. This _tertium quid_ gives him something which can plausibly be regarded as at once a perception and something perceived. For, though from the point of view of the thing in itself an appearance is an appearance or a perception of it, yet, regarded from the point of view of what it is in itself, an appearance is a reality perceived of the kind called mental. Hence s.p.a.ce and time, being characteristics of an appearance, can be regarded as at once characteristics of our perception of a reality, viz. of a thing in itself, and characteristics of a reality perceived, viz. an appearance. Moreover, there is another point of view from which the treatment of bodies in s.p.a.ce as appearances or phenomena gives plausibility to the view that s.p.a.ce, though a form of perception, is a characteristic of a reality. When Kant speaks of s.p.a.ce as the form of phenomena the fact to which he refers is that all bodies are spatial.[11] He means, not that s.p.a.ce is a way in which we perceive something, but that it is a characteristic of things perceived, which he _calls_ phenomena, and which _are_ bodies. But, since in his statement of this fact he subst.i.tutes for bodies phenomena, which to him are perceptions, his statement can be put in the form 's.p.a.ce is _the form of perceptions_'; and the statement in this form is verbally almost identical with the statement that s.p.a.ce is _a form of perception_. Consequently, the latter statement, which _should_ mean that s.p.a.ce is a way in which we perceive things, is easily identified with a statement of which the meaning is that s.p.a.ce is a characteristic of something perceived.[12]

[9] Cf. p. 51, note 1.

[10] Cf. p. 30 and ff.

[11] Cf. p. 39.

[12] It can be shown in the same way, _mutatis mutandis_ (cp.

p. 111), that the view that time, though the form of inner perception, is a characteristic of a reality gains plausibility from Kant's implicit treatment of our states as appearances due to ourselves.

Again, Kant's account of time will be found to treat something represented or perceived as also a perception. We find two consecutive paragraphs[13] of which the aim is apparently to establish the contrary conclusions: (1) that time is only the form of our internal state and not of external phenomena, and (2) that time is the formal condition of all phenomena, external and internal.