One here feels tempted to quote ironically Hegel’s famous equation of the real with the rational to his english disciple, who ends his chapter with the heroic words:—­

’For those who do not pray, there remains the resolve that, so far as their strength may permit, neither the pains of death nor the pains of life shall drive them to any comfort in that which they hold to be false, or drive them from any comfort [discomfort?] in that which they hold to be true.’

How can so ingenious-minded a writer fail to see how far over the heads of the enemy all his arrows pass?  When Mr. McTaggart himself believes that the universe is run by the dialectic energy of the absolute idea, his insistent desire to have a world of that sort is felt by him to be no chance example of desire in general, but an altogether peculiar insight-giving passion to which, in this if in no other instance, he would be stupid not to yield.  He obeys its concrete singularity, not the bare abstract feature in it of being a ‘desire.’  His situation is as particular as that of an actress who resolves that it is best for her to marry and leave the stage, of a priest who becomes secular, of a politician who abandons public life.  What sensible man would seek to refute the concrete decisions of such persons by tracing them to abstract premises, such as that ‘all actresses must marry,’ ‘all clergymen must be laymen,’ ‘all politicians should resign their posts’?  Yet this type of refutation, absolutely unavailing though it be for purposes of conversion, is spread by Mr. McTaggart through many pages of his book.  For the aboundingness of our real reasons he substitutes one narrow point.  For men’s real probabilities he gives a skeletonized abstraction which no man was ever tempted to believe.

The abstraction in my next example is less simple, but is quite as flimsy as a weapon of attack.  Empiricists think that truth in general is distilled from single men’s beliefs; and the so-called pragmatists ‘go them one better’ by trying to define what it consists in when it comes.  It consists, I have elsewhere said, in such a working on the part of the beliefs as may bring the man into satisfactory relations with objects to which these latter point.  The working is of course a concrete working in the actual experience of human beings, among their ideas, feelings, perceptions, beliefs and acts, as well as among the physical things of their environment, and the relations must be understood as being possible as well as actual.  In the chapter on truth of my book Pragmatism I have taken pains to defend energetically this view.  Strange indeed have been the misconceptions of it by its enemies, and many have these latter been.  Among the most formidable-sounding onslaughts on the attempt to introduce some concreteness into our notion of what the truth of an idea may mean, is one that has been raised in many quarters to the effect that to make truth grow in any way out of human opinion is but to reproduce