“And now, what do you know of matter, according to your own positive science?  You know it only by its phenomena, its appearances.  You are aware only of its changes, or of such changes in it as cause changes in your consciousness.  Positive science deals only with phenomena, yet you are foolish enough to strive to be ontologists and to deal with noumena.  Yet, by the very definition of positive science, science is concerned only with appearances.  As somebody has said, phenomenal knowledge cannot transcend phenomena.”

“You cannot answer Berkeley, even if you have annihilated Kant, and yet, perforce, you assume that Berkeley is wrong when you affirm that science proves the non-existence of God, or, as much to the point, the existence of matter.—­You know I granted the reality of matter only in order to make myself intelligible to your understanding.  Be positive scientists, if you please; but ontology has no place in positive science, so leave it alone.  Spencer is right in his agnosticism, but if Spencer—­”

But it was time to catch the last ferry-boat for Oakland, and Brissenden and Martin slipped out, leaving Norton still talking and Kreis and Hamilton waiting to pounce on him like a pair of hounds as soon as he finished.

“You have given me a glimpse of fairyland,” Martin said on the ferry-boat.  “It makes life worth while to meet people like that.  My mind is all worked up.  I never appreciated idealism before.  Yet I can’t accept it.  I know that I shall always be a realist.  I am so made, I guess.  But I’d like to have made a reply to Kreis and Hamilton, and I think I’d have had a word or two for Norton.  I didn’t see that Spencer was damaged any.  I’m as excited as a child on its first visit to the circus.  I see I must read up some more.  I’m going to get hold of Saleeby.  I still think Spencer is unassailable, and next time I’m going to take a hand myself.”

But Brissenden, breathing painfully, had dropped off to sleep, his chin buried in a scarf and resting on his sunken chest, his body wrapped in the long overcoat and shaking to the vibration of the propellers.

CHAPTER XXXVII

The first thing Martin did next morning was to go counter both to Brissenden’s advice and command.  “The Shame of the Sun” he wrapped and mailed to The Acropolis.  He believed he could find magazine publication for it, and he felt that recognition by the magazines would commend him to the book-publishing houses.  “Ephemera” he likewise wrapped and mailed to a magazine.  Despite Brissenden’s prejudice against the magazines, which was a pronounced mania with him, Martin decided that the great poem should see print.  He did not intend, however, to publish it without the other’s permission.  His plan was to get it accepted by one of the high magazines, and, thus armed, again to wrestle with Brissenden for consent.