The present volume is an attempt to carry out a plan which
William James is known to have formed several years before his
death. In 1907 he collected reprints in an envelope which he
inscribed with the title ‘Essays in Radical Empiricism’; and he
also had duplicate sets of these reprints bound, under the same
title, and deposited for the use of students in the general Harvard
Library, and in the Philosophical Library in Emerson
Hall.Two years later Professor James publishedThe Meaning of TruthandA Pluralistic Universe, and inserted
in these volumes several of the articles which he had intended to
use in the ‘Essays in Radical Empiricism.’ Whether he would
nevertheless have carried out his original plan, had he lived,
cannot be certainly known. Several facts, however, stand out very
clearly. In the first place, the articles included in the original
plan but omitted from his later volumes are indispensable to the
understanding of his other writings. To these articles he
repeatedly alludes. Thus, inThe Meaning of
Truth(p. 127), he says: “This statement is
probably excessively obscure to any one who has not read my two
articles ‘Does Consciousness Exist?’ and ‘A World of Pure
Experience.’” Other allusions have been indicated in the present
text. In the second place, the articles originally brought together
as ‘Essays in Radical Empiricism’ form a connected whole. Not only
were most of them written consecutively within a period of two
years, but they contain numerous cross-references. In the third
place, Professor James regarded ‘radical empiricism’ as anindependentdoctrine. This he asserted
expressly: “Let me say that there is no logical connexion between
pragmatism, as I understand it, and a doctrine which I have
recently set forth as ‘radical empiricism.’ The latter stands on
its own feet. One may entirely reject it and still be a
pragmatist.” (Pragmatism,
1907, Preface, p. ix.) Finally, Professor James came toward the end
of his life to regard ‘radical empiricism’ as more fundamental and
more important than ‘pragmatism.’ In the Preface toThe Meaning of Truth(1909), the author
gives the following explanation of his desire to continue, and if
possible conclude, the controversy over pragmatism: “I am
interested in another doctrine in philosophy to which I give the
name of radical empiricism, and it seems to me that the
establishment of the pragmatist theory of truth is a step of
first-rate importance in making radical empiricism prevail” (p.
xii).In preparing the present volume, the editor has therefore
been governed by two motives. On the one hand, he has sought to
preserve and make accessible certain important articles not to be
found in Professor James’s other books. This is true of
Essaysi,ii,iv,v,viii,ix,x,xi, andxii. On the other hand, he
has sought to bring together in one volume a set of essays treating
systematically of one independent, coherent, and fundamental
doctrine. To this end it has seemed best to include three essays
(iii,vi,
andvii), which, although included in
the original plan, were afterwards reprinted elsewhere; and one
essay,xii, not included in the original
plan. Essaysiii,vi, andviiare indispensable to the
consecutiveness of the series, and are so interwoven with the rest
that it is necessary that the student should have them at hand for
ready consultation. Essayxiithrows an
important light on the author’s general ‘empiricism,’ and forms an
important link between ‘radical empiricism’ and the author’s other
doctrines.In short, the present volume is designed not as a collection
but rather as a treatise. It is intended that another volume shall
be issued which shall contain papers having biographical or
historical importance which have not yet been reprinted in book
form. The present volume is intended not only for students of
Professor James’s philosophy, but for students of metaphysics and
the theory of knowledge. It sets forth systematically and within
brief compass the doctrine of ‘radical empiricism.’A word more may be in order concerning the general meaning of
this doctrine. In the Preface to theWill to
Believe(1898), Professor James gives the name
“radical empiricism” to his
“philosophic attitude,” and adds the following explanation: “I say
‘empiricism,’ because it is contented to regard its most assured
conclusions concerning matters of fact as hypotheses liable to
modification in the course of future experience; and I say
‘radical,’ because it treats the doctrine of monism itself as an
hypothesis, and, unlike so much of the halfway empiricism that is
current under the name of positivism or agnosticism or scientific
naturalism, it does not dogmatically affirm monism as something
with which all experience has got to square” (pp. vii-viii). An
‘empiricism’ of this description is a “philosophic attitude” or
temper of mind rather than a doctrine, and characterizes all of
Professor James’s writings. It is set forth in Essayxiiof the present volume.In a narrower sense, ‘empiricism’ is the method of resorting
toparticular experiencesfor
the solution of philosophical problems. Rationalists are the men of
principles, empiricists the men of facts. (Some
Problems of Philosophy, p. 35; cf. also,ibid., p. 44; andPragmatism, pp. 9, 51.) Or, “since
principles are universals, and facts are particulars, perhaps the
best way of characterizing the two tendencies is to say that
rationalist thinking proceeds most willingly by going from wholes
to parts, while empiricist thinking proceeds by going from parts to
wholes.” (Some Problems of Philosophy, p. 35; cf. alsoibid.,
p. 98; andA Pluralistic Universe, p. 7.) Again, empiricism “remands us to sensation.”
(Op. cit., p. 264.) The
“empiricist view” insists that, “as reality is created temporally
day by day, concepts ... can never fitly supersede perception....
The deeper features of reality are found only in perceptual
experience.” (Some Problems of
Philosophy, pp. 100, 97.) Empiricism in this
sense is as yet characteristic of Professor James’s
philosophyas a whole. It is
not the distinctive and independent doctrine set forth in the
present book.The only summary of ‘radical empiricism’ in this last and
narrowest sense appears in the Preface toThe
Meaning of Truth(pp. xii-xiii); and it must be
reprinted here as the key to the text that follows.[1]
“ Radical empiricism consists (1) first of a postulate, (2)
next of a statement of fact, (3) and finally of a generalized
conclusion.”(1) “The postulate is thatthe only things
that shall be debatable among philosophers shall be things
definable in terms drawn from experience.
(Things of an unexperienceable nature may exist ad libitum, but
they form no part of the material for philosophic debate.)” This is
“the principle of pure experience” as “a methodical postulate.”
(Cf. below, pp.159,241.) This postulate corresponds to the notion
which the author repeatedly attributes to Shadworth Hodgson, the
notion “that realities are only what they are ‘known as.’” (Pragmatism, p. 50;Varieties of Religious Experience, p.
443;The Meaning of Truth, pp.
43, 118.) In this sense ‘radical empiricism’ and pragmatism are
closely allied. Indeed, if pragmatism be defined as the assertion
that “the meaning of any proposition can always be brought down to
some particular consequence in our future practical experience, ...
the point lying in the fact that the experience must be particular
rather than in the fact that it must be active” (Meaning of Truth, p. 210); then
pragmatism and the above postulate come to the same thing. The
present book, however, consists not so much in the assertion of
this postulate as in theuseof
it. And the method is successful in special applications by virtue
of a certain “statement of fact” concerning relations.(2) “The statement of fact is thatthe
relations between things, conjunctive as well as disjunctive, are
just as much matters of direct particular experience, neither more
so nor less so, than the things themselves.”
(Cf. alsoA Pluralistic Universe, p. 280;The Will to Believe, p. 278.) This is the central doctrine of the present book.
It distinguishes ‘radical empiricism’ from the “ordinary
empiricism” of Hume, J. S. Mill, etc., with which it is otherwise
allied. (Cf. below, pp.42-44.) It
provides an empirical and relational version of ‘activity,’ and so
distinguishes the author’s voluntarism from a view with which it is
easily confused—the view which upholds a pure or transcendent
activity. (Cf. below, Essayvi.) It
makes it possible to escape the vicious disjunctions that have thus
far baffled philosophy: such disjunctions as those between
consciousness and physical nature, between thought and its object,
between one mind and another, and between one ‘thing’ and another.
These disjunctions need not be ‘overcome’ by calling in any
“extraneous trans-empirical connective support” (Meaning of Truth, Preface, p. xiii);
they may now beavoidedby
regarding the dualities in question as onlydifferences of empirical relationship among common
empirical terms. The pragmatistic account of
‘meaning’ and ‘truth,’ shows only how a vicious disjunction between
‘idea’ and ‘object’ may thus be avoided. The present volume not
only presents pragmatism in this light; but adds similar accounts
of the other dualities mentioned above.Thus while pragmatism and radical empiricism do not differ
essentially when regarded asmethods, they are independent when regarded as doctrines. For it
would be possible to hold the pragmatistic theory of ‘meaning’ and
‘truth,’ without basing it on any fundamental theory of relations,
and without extending such a theory of relations to residual
philosophical problems; without, in short, holding either to the
above ‘statement of fact,’ or to the following ‘generalized
conclusion.’(3) “The generalized conclusion is that thereforethe parts of experience hold together from next to next
by relations that are themselves parts of experience. The directly
apprehended universe needs, in short, no extraneous trans-empirical
connective support, but possesses in its own right a concatenated
or continuous structure.” When thus generalized,
‘radical empiricism’ is not only a theory of knowledge comprising
pragmatism as a special chapter, but a metaphysic as well. It
excludes “the hypothesis of trans-empirical reality” (Cf. below,
p.195). It is the author’s most
rigorous statement of his theory that reality is an
“experience-continuum.” (Meaning of
Truth, p. 152;A Pluralistic
Universe, Lect. v, vii.) It is that positive and
constructive ‘empiricism’ of which Professor James said: “Let
empiricism once become associated with religion, as hitherto,
through some strange misunderstanding, it has been associated with
irreligion, and I believe that a new era of religion as well as of
philosophy will be ready to begin.” (Op.
cit., p. 314; cf.ibid., Lect. viii,passim; andThe
Varieties of Religious Experience, pp.
515-527.)The editor desires to acknowledge his obligations to the
periodicals from which these essays have been reprinted, and to the
many friends of Professor James who have rendered valuable advice
and assistance in the preparation of the present
volume.
I
DOES ‘CONSCIOUSNESS’ EXIST?[2]
‘ Thoughts’ and ‘things’ are names for two sorts of object,
which common sense will always find contrasted and will always
practically oppose to each other. Philosophy, reflecting on the
contrast, has varied in the past in her explanations of it, and may
be expected to vary in the future. At first, ‘spirit and matter,’
‘soul and body,’ stood for a pair of equipollent substances quite
on a par in weight and interest. But one day Kant undermined the
soul and brought in the transcendental ego, and ever since then the
bipolar relation has been very much off its balance. The
transcendental ego seems nowadays in rationalist quarters to stand
for everything, in empiricist quarters for almost nothing. In the
hands of such writers as Schuppe, Rehmke, Natorp, Münsterberg—at
any rate in his earlier writings, Schubert-Soldern and others, the
spiritual principle attenuates itself to a thoroughly ghostly
condition, being only a name for the fact that the ‘content’ of
experienceis known. It loses
personal form and activity—these passing over to the content—and
becomes a bareBewusstheitorBewusstsein überhaupt,
of which in its own right absolutely nothing can be
said.I believe that ‘consciousness,’ when once it has evaporated
to this estate of pure diaphaneity, is on the point of disappearing
altogether. It is the name of a nonentity, and has no right to a
place among first principles. Those who still cling to it are
clinging to a mere echo, the faint rumor left behind by the
disappearing ‘soul’ upon the air of philosophy. During the past
year, I have read a number of articles whose authors seemed just on
the point of abandoning the notion of consciousness,[3]and substituting for it that of an
absolute experience not due to two factors. But they were not quite
radical enough, not quite daring enough in their negations. For
twenty years past I have mistrusted ‘consciousness’ as an entity;
for seven or eight years past I have suggested its non-existence to
my students, and tried to give them its pragmatic equivalent in
realities of experience. It seems to me that the hour is ripe for
it to be openly and universally discarded.To deny plumply that ‘consciousness’ exists seems so absurd
on the face of it—for undeniably ‘thoughts’ do exist—that I fear
some readers will follow me no farther. Let me then immediately
explain that I mean only to deny that the word stands for an
entity, but to insist most emphatically that it does stand for a
function. There is, I mean, no aboriginal stuff or quality of
being,[4]contrasted with that
of which material objects are made, out of which our thoughts of
them are made; but there is a function in experience which thoughts
perform, and for the performance of which this quality of being is
invoked. That function isknowing. ‘Consciousness’ is supposed necessary to explain the fact
that things not only are, but get reported, are known. Whoever
blots out the notion of consciousness from his list of first
principles must still provide in some way for that function’s being
carried on.IMy thesis is that if we start with the supposition that there
is only one primal stuff or material in the world, a stuff of which
everything is composed, and if we call that stuff ‘pure
experience,’ then knowing can easily be explained as a particular
sort of relation towards one another into which portions of pure
experience may enter. The relation itself is a part of pure
experience; one of its ‘terms’ becomes the subject or bearer of the
knowledge, the knower,[5]the
other becomes the object known. This will need much explanation
before it can be understood. The best way to get it understood is
to contrast it with the alternative view; and for that we may take
the recentest alternative, that in which the evaporation of the
definite soul-substance has proceeded as far as it can go without
being yet complete. If neo-Kantism has expelled earlier forms of
dualism, we shall have expelled all forms if we are able to expel
neo-Kantism in its turn.For the thinkers I call neo-Kantian, the word consciousness
to-day does no more than signalize the fact that experience is
indefeasibly dualistic in structure. It means that not subject, not
object, but object-plus-subject is the minimum that can actually
be. The subject-object distinction meanwhile is entirely different
from that between mind and matter, from that between body and soul.
Souls were detachable, had separate destinies; things could happen
to them. To consciousness as such nothing can happen, for, timeless
itself, it is only a witness of happenings in time, in which it
plays no part. It is, in a word, but the logical correlative of
‘content’ in an Experience of which the peculiarity is thatfact comes to lightin it, thatawareness of contenttakes place.
Consciousness as such is entirely impersonal—‘self’ and its
activities belong to the content. To say that I am self-conscious,
or conscious of putting forth volition, means only that certain
contents, for which ‘self’ and ‘effort of will’ are the names, are
not without witness as they occur.Thus, for these belated drinkers at the Kantian spring, we
should have to admit consciousness as an ‘epistemological’
necessity, even if we had no direct evidence of its being
there.But in addition to this, we are supposed by almost every one
to have an immediate consciousness of consciousness itself. When
the world of outer fact ceases to be materially present, and we
merely recall it in memory, or fancy it, the consciousness is
believed to stand out and to be felt as a kind of impalpable inner
flowing, which, once known in this sort of experience, may equally
be detected in presentations of the outer world. “The moment we try
to fix our attention upon consciousness and to seewhat, distinctly, it is,” says a
recent writer, “it seems to vanish. It seems as if we had before us
a mere emptiness. When we try to introspect the sensation of blue,
all we can see is the blue; the other element is as if it were
diaphanous. Yet itcanbe
distinguished, if we look attentively enough, and know that there
is something to look for.”[6]“Consciousness” (Bewusstheit),
says another philosopher, “is inexplicable and hardly describable,
yet all conscious experiences have this in common that what we call
their content has this peculiar reference to a centre for which
‘self’ is the name, in virtue of which reference alone the content
is subjectively given, or appears ... While in this way
consciousness, or reference to a self, is the only thing which
distinguishes a conscious content from any sort of being that might
be there with no one conscious of it, yet this only ground of the
distinction defies all closer explanations. The existence of
consciousness, although it is the fundamental fact of psychology,
can indeed be laid down as certain, can be brought out by analysis,
but can neither be defined nor deduced from anything but
itself.”[7]
‘ Can be brought out by analysis,’ this author says. This
supposes that the consciousness is one element, moment, factor—call
it what you like—of an experience of essentially dualistic inner
constitution, from which, if you abstract the content, the
consciousness will remain revealed to its own eye. Experience, at
this rate, would be much like a paint of which the world pictures
were made. Paint has a dual constitution, involving, as it does, a
menstruum[8](oil, size or
what not) and a mass of content in the form of pigment suspended
therein. We can get the pure menstruum by letting the pigment
settle, and the pure pigment by pouring off the size or oil. We
operate here by physical subtraction; and the usual view is, that
by mental subtraction we can separate the two factors of experience
in an analogous way—not isolating them entirely, but distinguishing
them enough to know that they are two.IINow my contention is exactly the reverse of this.Experience, I believe, has no such inner duplicity; and
the separation of it into consciousness and content comes, not by
way of subtraction, but by way of addition—the
addition, to a given concrete piece of it, of other sets of
experiences, in connection with which severally its use or function
may be of two different kinds. The paint will also serve here as an
illustration. In a pot in a paint-shop, along with other paints, it
serves in its entirety as so much saleable matter. Spread on a
canvas, with other paints around it, it represents, on the
contrary, a feature in a picture and performs a spiritual function.
Just so, I maintain, does a given undivided portion of experience,
taken in one context of associates, play the part of a knower, of a
state of mind, of ‘consciousness’; while in a different context the
same undivided bit of experience plays the part of a thing known,
of an objective ‘content.’ In a word, in one group it figures as a
thought, in another group as a thing. And, since it can figure in
both groups simultaneously we have every right to speak of it as
subjective and objective both at once. The dualism connoted by such
double-barrelled terms as ‘experience,’ ‘phenomenon,’ ‘datum,’
‘Vorfindung’—terms which, in
philosophy at any rate, tend more and more to replace the
single-barrelled terms of ‘thought’ and ‘thing’—that dualism, I
say, is still preserved in this account, but reinterpreted, so
that, instead of being mysterious and elusive, it becomes
verifiable and concrete. It is an affair of relations, it falls
outside, not inside, the single experience considered, and can
always be particularized and defined.The entering wedge for this more concrete way of
understanding the dualism was fashioned by Locke when he made the
word ‘idea’ stand indifferently for thing and thought, and by
Berkeley when he said that what common sense means by realities is
exactly what the philosopher means by ideas. Neither Locke nor
Berkeley thought his truth out into perfect clearness, but it seems
to me that the conception I am defending does little more than
consistently carry out the ‘pragmatic’ method which they were the
first to use.If the reader will take his own experiences, he will see what
I mean. Let him begin with a perceptual experience, the
‘presentation,’ so called, of a physical object, his actual field
of vision, the room he sits in, with the book he is reading as its
centre; and let him for the present treat this complex object in
the common-sense way as being ‘really’ what it seems to be, namely,
a collection of physical things cut out from an environing world of
other physical things with which these physical things have actual
or potential relations. Now at the same time it is justthose self-same thingswhich his mind,
as we say, perceives; and the whole philosophy of perception from
Democritus’s time downwards has been just one long wrangle over the
paradox that what is evidently one reality should be in two places
at once, both in outer space and in a person’s mind.
‘Representative’ theories of perception avoid the logical paradox,
but on the other hand they violate the reader’s sense of life,
which knows no intervening mental image but seems to see the room
and the book immediately just as they physically
exist.The puzzle of how the one identical room can be in two places
is at bottom just the puzzle of how one identical point can be on
two lines. It can, if it be situated at their intersection; and
similarly, if the ‘pure experience’ of the room were a place of
intersection of two processes, which connected it with different
groups of associates respectively, it could be counted twice over,
as belonging to either group, and spoken of loosely as existing in
two places, although it would remain all the time a numerically
single thing.Well, the experience is a member of diverse processes that
can be followed away from it along entirely different lines. The
one self-identical thing has so many relations to the rest of
experience that you can take it in disparate systems of
association, and treat it as belonging with opposite
contexts.[9]In one of these
contexts it is your ‘field of consciousness’; in another it is ‘the
room in which you sit,’ and it enters both contexts in its
wholeness, giving no pretext for being said to attach itself to
consciousness by one of its parts or aspects, and to outer reality
by another. What are the two processes, now, into which the
room-experience simultaneously enters in this way?One of them is the reader’s personal biography, the other is
the history of the house of which the room is part. The
presentation, the experience, thethatin short (for until we have decidedwhatit is it must be a merethat) is the last term of a train of
sensations, emotions, decisions, movements, classifications,
expectations, etc., ending in the present, and the first term of a
series of similar ‘inner’ operations extending into the future, on
the reader’s part. On the other hand, the very samethatis theterminus
ad quemof a lot of previous physical operations,
carpentering, papering, furnishing, warming, etc., and theterminus a quoof a lot of future ones,
in which it will be concerned when undergoing the destiny of a
physical room. The physical and the mental operations form
curiously incompatible groups. As a room, the experience has
occupied that spot and had that environment for thirty years. As
your field of consciousness it may never have existed until now. As
a room, attention will go on to discover endless new details in it.
As your mental state merely, few new ones will emerge under
attention’s eye. As a room, it will take an earthquake, or a gang
of men, and in any case a certain amount of time, to destroy it. As
your subjective state, the closing of your eyes, or any
instantaneous play of your fancy will suffice. In the real world,
fire will consume it. In your mind, you can let fire play over it
without effect. As an outer object, you must pay so much a month to
inhabit it. As an inner content, you may occupy it for any length
of time rent-free. If, in short, you follow it in the mental
direction, taking it along with events of personal biography
solely, all sorts of things are true of it which are false, and
false of it which are true if you treat it as a real thing
experienced, follow it in the physical direction, and relate it to
associates in the outer world.IIISo far, all seems plain sailing, but my thesis will probably
grow less plausible to the reader when I pass from percepts to
concepts, or from the case of things presented to that of things
remote. I believe, nevertheless, that here also the same law holds
good. If we take conceptual manifolds, or memories, or fancies,
they also are in their first intention mere bits of pure
experience, and, as such, are singlethatswhich act in one context as
objects, and in another context figure as mental states. By taking
them in their first intention, I mean ignoring their relation to
possible perceptual experiences with which they may be connected,
which they may lead to and terminate in, and which then they may be
supposed to ‘represent.’ Taking them in this way first, we confine
the problem to a world merely ‘thought-of’ and not directly felt or
seen.[10]This world, just
like the world of percepts, comes to us at first as a chaos of
experiences, but lines of order soon get traced. We find that any
bit of it which we may cut out as an example is connected with
distinct groups of associates, just as our perceptual experiences
are, that these associates link themselves with it by different
relations,[11]and that one
forms the inner history of a person, while the other acts as an
impersonal ‘objective’ world, either spatial and temporal, or else
merely logical or mathematical, or otherwise ‘ideal.’The first obstacle on the part of the reader to seeing that
these non-perceptual experiences have objectivity as well as
subjectivity will probably be due to the intrusion into his mind
ofpercepts, that third group
of associates with which the non-perceptual experiences have
relations, and which, as a whole, they ‘represent,’ standing to
them as thoughts to things. This important function of the
non-perceptual experiences complicates the question and confuses
it; for, so used are we to treat percepts as the sole genuine
realities that, unless we keep them out of the discussion, we tend
altogether to overlook the objectivity that lies in non-perceptual
experiences by themselves. We treat them, ‘knowing’ percepts as
they do, as through and through subjective, and say that they are
wholly constituted of the stuff called consciousness, using this
term now for a kind of entity, after the fashion which I am seeking
to refute.[12]Abstracting, then, from percepts altogether, what I maintain
is, that any single non-perceptual experience tends to get counted
twice over, just as a perceptual experience does, figuring in one
context as an object or field of objects, in another as a state of
mind: and all this without the least internal self-diremption on
its own part into consciousness and content. It is all
consciousness in one taking; and, in the other, all
content.I find this objectivity of non-perceptual experiences, this
complete parallelism in point of reality between the presently felt
and the remotely thought, so well set forth in a page of
Münsterberg’sGrundzüge, that I
will quote it as it stands.
“ I may only think of my objects,” says Professor
Münsterberg; “yet, in my living thought they stand before me
exactly as perceived objects would do, no matter how different the
two ways of apprehending them may be in their genesis. The book
here lying on the table before me, and the book in the next room of
which I think and which I mean to get, are both in the same sense
given realities for me, realities which I acknowledge and of which
I take account. If you agree that the perceptual object is not an
idea within me, but that percept and thing, as indistinguishably
one, are really experiencedthere,
outside, you ought not to believe that the
merely thought-of object is hid away inside of the thinking
subject. The object of which I think, and of whose existence I take
cognizance without letting it now work upon my senses, occupies its
definite place in the outer world as much as does the object which
I directly see.”
“ What is true of the here and the there, is also true of the
now and the then. I know of the thing which is present and
perceived, but I know also of the thing which yesterday was but is
no more, and which I only remember. Both can determine my present
conduct, both are parts of the reality of which I keep account. It
is true that of much of the past I am uncertain, just as I am
uncertain of much of what is present if it be but dimly perceived.
But the interval of time does not in principle alter my relation to
the object, does not transform it from an object known into a
mental state.... The things in the room here which I survey, and
those in my distant home of which I think, the things of this
minute and those of my long-vanished boyhood, influence and decide
me alike, with a reality which my experience of them directly
feels. They both make up my real world, they make it directly, they
do not have first to be introduced to me and mediated by ideas
which now and here arise within me.... This not-me character of my
recollections and expectations does not imply that the external
objects of which I am aware in those experiences should necessarily
be there also for others. The objects of dreamers and hallucinated
persons are wholly without general validity. But even were they
centaurs and golden mountains, they still would be ‘off there,’ in
fairy land, and not ‘inside’ of ourselves.”[13]This certainly is the immediate, primary, naïf, or practical
way of taking our thought-of world. Were there no perceptual world
to serve as its ‘reductive,’ in Taine’s sense, by being ‘stronger’
and more genuinely ‘outer’ (so that the whole merely thought-of
world seems weak and inner in comparison), our world of thought
would be the only world, and would enjoy complete reality in our
belief. This actually happens in our dreams, and in our day-dreams
so long as percepts do not interrupt them.And yet, just as the seen room (to go back to our late
example) isalsoa field of
consciousness, so the conceived or recollected room isalsoa state of mind; and the
doubling-up of the experience has in both cases similar
grounds.