And the complaints, that things believed to be large, sometimes, as when at a distance, appear small; that things which we believe to be straight, sometimes seem bent; that the sun has one appearance in the morning, and another at noon;[44] these, and all others like them, assume that an object seen near at hand and then seen at a distance, a stick seen as straight and then seen as crooked, the sun on the horizon and the sun at the zenith, are in each case one strictly, and not merely one as each element in a complex of experiences is one with each other element, when any one may represent the whole. The conclusion that, since it is not possible to view things without reference to "place and position," their true nature cannot be known,[45] is founded upon this error.
This becomes clear when one asks, what is it, after all, the nature of which is so in doubt? Is it a stick? the sun? These words are ambiguous. Two consecutive experiences of the same stick—as we ordinarily use this word in speaking of sticks—are not strictly identical, and need not be alike. The stick seen on two occasions is not the same stick in sense I. If I limit the meaning of the words "the stick" to one of these experiences, then the true nature of the stick is just what is experienced on that occasion. What is experienced on the second occasion is another stick, and its true nature is also just what it seems to be. If, however, by "the stick" I do not mean only the experience of one moment, but a series of experiences differing more or less from one another, then I am under no necessity to select one of them as the true nature of the stick, for its true nature is nothing more nor less than the whole group of experiences. If I try to discover or to invent some new experience which I may call the true nature of the group, I am simply adding to it in thought another experience which takes its place among those the group already contains. I am playing with the word nature. This last experience could not be more important than those among which it is placed, and it could not stand for any one of them in any other way than each of them could stand for it. Should it be objected that by "the stick" one does not mean either a single experience of the stick or the sum total of the group of experiences, but a something distinct from all these and inferred through them, I answer, that in this case the argument from the variability of experiences is not to the point. Such a "stick" as this would be the same with either of those just discussed only in the seventh sense of the word, and its nature would be the same with their nature only in that sense too. An experience of the stick out of "place and position," if that were conceivable, would not give us this "stick," for such an experience would still be an experience. It must never be forgotten that this "external" stick is quite distinct from any or all experiences, and could not be given in experiences of any kind. It can only be inferred. If an unvarying series of experiences is good ground for inferring an unvarying "external" stick, similar to what is experienced, one would suppose a varying series of experiences would furnish a basis for inference of a varying "external" stick, in its successive phases like what is experienced. Unless some reason is given for a discrimination in favor of the unvarying series, the argument from variation does not affect the "external" stick at all.
It is evident, however, that in this particular argument, at least, the "external" is not in Pyrrho's mind at all. What perplexes him is, that what he is accustomed to call a straight stick sometimes looks crooked. On reflection he discovers that he calls it straight only because it seems straight on some occasions; and if it may at one time seem straight and at another seem crooked, which is it in reality? The question is a very natural one. The unreflective do not ask it, because they assume that one of the experiences is to be taken as expressing the true nature of the object and the other relegated to the sphere of more or less deceptive appearance. The man who has begun to reflect does ask it, because he sees that the assumed true nature is an appearance too, and it naturally occurs to him that it also may be deceptive. If he reflected more, he would see that he is partly right and partly wrong. We do not regard as equally important every element in the group of experiences which we call an object. Certain elements, notably the tactual qualities and those visual experiences which give us the best opportunity of inferring the tactual qualities, stand in the foreground when we speak of the object. We name the object according to these. In saying "a straight stick" we have prominently in mind certain tactual experiences, and certain visual experiences which normally are connected with these and give us the right to infer them. We call any appearance delusive which leads us to infer tactual experiences, and visual experiences of a kind regarded as best representative of these tactual experiences, when such cannot be actually experienced. Certain elements in the total group, which is to us an experienced object, may then properly be regarded as in a sense the true nature of the object, they are the most important part, and the part to which other elements are referred. These elements may justly be regarded as delusive when they mislead us in our inferences as to the important elements. So far the common man is right. And as no element is delusive in itself, but only in so far as it refers the mind to something else, and to the wrong something else, those elements which are ultimate and not used as signs of others, cannot be delusive. In raising this question with regard to them Pyrrho is wrong. These elements may, to be sure, be used as signs or indications of any other elements in the group, and in their turn made stepping stones; but this is not commonly done, and language and common thought rarely mark logical possibilities. The language in use fairly expresses the attitude of the average man towards the elements in his thought.
On the other hand, the unreflective man speaks as if the less important, or perhaps I had better say less prominent, experiences were not a part of the object as he knows it. He seems to regard the whole object as actually present, when a single experience only is present. In putting all experiences on the same plane, so to speak, the Pyrrhonist makes a genuine advance. Wherein he errs is this: He sees that a stick seen near at hand is as much an experience or appearance as a stick seen at a distance, and that one of these phenomena does not differ in kind from the other; he sees also that to assume that one is the real stick and the other is not, seems to go upon the assumption that they differ in kind; he is consequently unwilling to call any one of his experiences the real stick, and yet he insists upon looking for a real stick, which may be expressed in a single experience. It never seems to occur to him that the real stick may be the name of the whole series of experiences in their appropriate relations. He wishes a sameness in the strict sense, with no element of duality. The stick seen straight in the air, and seen bent in the water, is the same stick in sense third. It takes both of these experiences to express the true nature of this stick. No one experience could serve. It is the battle between stick as a single experience, and stick as a group of experiences, that leads to all the confusion.
I have given as much space to Pyrrho as I care to, and I will not delay over him and his successors. These furnish good material to one fond of analysis. There is, however, a great deal of repetition among the sceptics. They occupy themselves chiefly either in confounding the first kind of sameness with the third, as in the preceding; or in confounding the first kind with the sixth, as in the argument for uncertainty drawn from the varying guise under which the same object appears to different persons. The ambiguity of the word same, as here used, is apparent, and it is in this ambiguity that they become entangled.
Sec. 28. Into the labyrinths of the scholastic philosophy I hesitate to enter, and yet I could hardly be excused for passing on to the moderns without at least a reference to the great dispute over Universals—a dispute which is, at bottom, a quarrel concerning samenesses. I shall speak of it very briefly.
The object of the general term or class name is in question. Plato, distinguishing between the universal and the individual, between man and men, thought it necessary, according to Aristotle, who has not, I think, done him injustice, to assume an object for the universal outside of and apart from all the individuals forming a class. The Idea is a real thing, the real thing in which the individuals participate, or of which they are copies; but it is not itself to be found in any or all of them, except, so to speak, in a figurative or metaphorical way. Aristotle, finding no reason to assume a new individual, for so he regarded the Platonic Idea, placed the universal in the individuals composing the class. Certain of the schoolmen, emphasizing the distinction between real things and mental representations, maintained that only individuals have real existence, and asserted either that universals exist merely as peculiar combinations of mental elements which serve to think the objects forming a class, or that the universal is the word, which may be applied indifferently to many individuals of one kind. In these views we have the universalia ante rem, the universalia in re, and the universalia post rem; or extreme Realism, moderate Realism, and Nominalism in its two forms.
The examination into the respective merits of the positions which have been taken with regard to universals will be facilitated by distinguishing carefully between the different spheres of being; that is, between things immediately known and "real" things mediately known, as also between things contained in one consciousness and those contained in another. It is plainly important not to confound these classes with each other.
Let us take, first, a number of resembling objects in a single consciousness. I have already pointed out that when we say several such objects are the same we do not at all mean to deny that they are distinct objects. We merely wish to indicate that each possesses certain elements which, taken by themselves, and after making abstraction from all other elements, render impossible any distinction between different objects. We distinguish two objects as two through some difference, even if it be only local or temporal. Redness combined with x and redness combined with y are recognized as two occurrences of redness, but this only on account of x and y. Redness perceived to-day and redness perceived yesterday are two occurrences of redness, marked as such by the "to-day" and the "yesterday." Redness considered simply contains nothing which will allow of such distinctions. This does not imply at all that redness considered simply is an occurrence of redness—that since we have not two or more occurrence of the quality we have a single occurrence of it, an individual. We have not, if we have really abstracted from all save the redness, any "occurrence" or "occurrences" at all, for these imply just the elements of difference which we are endeavoring to eliminate. An "occurrence" of redness means redness with a difference which will mark it out from other redness, from another "occurrence." If, then, one gives to twenty individuals a common name to indicate that they resemble each other, or are in some sense the same, he should keep clearly in mind just what this means. It means that along with various differing elements each contains the element x. He should remember that each individual is the same with each other individual only in this sense, sense fourth. When he proposes to separate the x from the other elements, and consider it separately, he should be most careful to see that he is really taking it separately, and not allowing shreds of foreign matter to hang to it and give rise to difficulties and perplexities. He should not overlook the fact that there is a fallacy in the very question, Whether the x in one individual is identical (the same in sense first) with the x in any other individual? If these two x's are distinguishable as in two individuals, one is not considering x merely, but x with other elements. The separation of the x element from the other elements in the objects is here not complete, or one would be considering not "an x" or "x's," but x. Any one who sees this must see that he who asks such a question is retaining a duality, and then trying to get out of it an identity with no element of duality. He is "milking the he-goat." He is trying to reduce sameness in sense fourth to sameness in sense first.
Twenty objects immediately known must not be confounded with twenty "real" things not immediately known, and of which the objects are supposed to be representatives. These two classes are the same with each other only in sense seventh. I have discussed in detail in the first part of my monograph the samenesses of "real" things, and it is not necessary to repeat what I have said. It is enough to state that it was there made evident that when we speak of a number of similar "real" things as the same, we use the word in sense fourth, and have in mind just the elements which are present when we speak of several similar immediate objects of knowledge as the same. We are merely carrying over to a set of imagined duplicates a distinction which we observe in objects recognized as within consciousness. When, therefore, we give twenty "real" things a common name, and form them into a class, because they are alike, we mean that along with various other "real" elements, each of these objects contains the "real" element x. The word same means to us just what it does when we speak of twenty similar immediate objects as the same. We have changed only the objects; we have not changed the sameness and all that depends upon it. Two such objects are the same in sense fourth, and never in sense first. If they could be the same in sense first, they would not be two. When a man undertakes to separate in thought the "real" x element from the other "real" elements in two or more such objects, he should be careful, as in the case of immediate objects, to make a complete separation and not a partial one. He should see here, too, that the question whether the x in one object and the x in another are strictly identical, is a foolish one. "This x" and "that x" are not strictly identical, or they would not be "this x" and "that x." Remove completely the "this" and the "that" and all other differing elements—leave, that is, only x, and the possibility of any such question simply disappears. If there still seem to anyone ground for a question in the premises, it is evidence that he is not considering merely x. He is trying to keep two things two, and yet make them one.