I fear that few of you will have been able to obey Bergson’s call upon you to look towards the sensational life for the fuller knowledge of reality, or to sympathize with his attempt to limit the divine right of concepts to rule our mind absolutely.  It is too much like looking downward and not up.  Philosophy, you will say, doesn’t lie flat on its belly in the middle of experience, in the very thick of its sand and gravel, as this Bergsonism does, never getting a peep at anything from above.  Philosophy is essentially the vision of things from above.  It doesn’t simply feel the detail of things, it comprehends their intelligible plan, sees their forms and principles, their categories and rules, their order and necessity.  It takes the superior point of view of the architect.  Is it conceivable that it should ever forsake that point of view and abandon itself to a slovenly life of immediate feeling?  To say nothing of your traditional Oxford devotion to Aristotle and Plato, the leaven of T.H.  Green probably works still too strongly here for his anti-sensationalism to be outgrown quickly.  Green more than any one realized that knowledge about things was knowledge of their relations; but nothing could persuade him that our sensational life could contain any relational element.  He followed the strict intellectualist method with sensations.  What they were not expressly defined as including, they must exclude.  Sensations are not defined as relations, so in the end Green thought that they could get related together only by the action on them from above of a ‘self-distinguishing’ absolute and eternal mind, present to that which is related, but not related itself.  ‘A relation,’ he said, ’is not contingent with the contingency of feeling.  It is permanent with the permanence of the combining and comparing thought which alone constitutes it.’[1] In other words, relations are purely conceptual objects, and the sensational life as such cannot relate itself together.  Sensation in itself, Green wrote, is fleeting, momentary, unnameable (because, while we name it, it has become another), and for the same reason unknowable, the very negation of knowability.  Were there no permanent objects of conception for our sensations to be ‘referred to,’ there would be no significant names, but only noises, and a consistent sensationalism must be speechless.[2] Green’s intellectualism was so earnest that it produced a natural and an inevitable effect.  But the atomistic and unrelated sensations which he had in mind were purely fictitious products of his rationalist fancy.  The psychology of our own day disavows them utterly,[3] and Green’s laborious belaboring of poor old Locke for not having first seen that his ideas of sensation were just that impracticable sort of thing, and then fled to transcendental idealism as a remedy,—­his belaboring of poor old Locke for this, I say, is pathetic.  Every examiner of the sensible life in concreto must see that relations of every sort, of time, space,