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|
- The Project Gutenberg EBook of Time and Free Will, by Henri Bergson
- This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
- other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
- whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
- the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
- www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
- to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
- Title: Time and Free Will
- An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness
- Author: Henri Bergson
- Translator: F. L. Pogson
- Release Date: March 27, 2018 [EBook #56852]
- Language: English
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- *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIME AND FREE WILL ***
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- TIME
- AND FREE WILL
- An Essay on the Immediate Data
- of Consciousness
- BY
- HENRI BERGSON
- MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE
- PROFESSOR AT THE COLLÈGE DE FRANCE
- Authorized Translation _by_
- F. L. POGSON, M.A.
- LONDON
- GEORGE ALLEN & COMPANY, LTD.
- RUSKIN HOUSE, 44 AND 45 RATHBONE PLACE
- NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
- 1913
- Καὶ εἴ τις δὲ τὴν φύσίν ἔροιτο τίνος ἔνεκα ποίεῐ
- εἰ τοῡ ἐρωτῶντος ἐθέλοι ἐπαΐειν καὶ λέγειν, εἴποι
- ἄν "ἐχρῆν μὲν μὴ ἐρωτἂν, ἀλλὰ συνιέναι καὶ αὐτὸν
- σιωπῇ, ὤσπερ ἐγὼ σιωπώ καὶ οὐκ εἴθισμαι λέγειν."
- PLOTINUS.
- TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
- Henri Louis Bergson was born in Paris, October 18, 1859. He entered the
- École normale in 1878, and was admitted agrégé de philosophie in 1881
- and docteur ès lettres in 1889. After holding professorships in various
- provincial and Parisian lycées, he became maître de conférences at the
- École normale supérieure in 1897, and since 1900 has been professor at
- the Collège de France. In 1901 he became a member of the Institute on
- his election to the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques.
- A full list of Professor Bergson's works is given in the appended
- bibliography. In making the following translation of his _Essai sur les
- données immédiates de la conscience_ I have had the great advantage of
- his co-operation at every stage, and the aid which he has given has
- been most generous and untiring. The book itself was worked out and
- written during the years 1883 to 1887 and was originally published in
- 1889. The foot-notes in the French edition contain a certain number
- of references to French translations of English works. In the present
- translation I am responsible for citing these references from the
- original English. This will account for the fact that editions are
- sometimes referred to which have appeared subsequently to 1889. I have
- also added fairly extensive marginal summaries and a full index.
- In France the _Essai_ is already in its seventh edition. Indeed,
- one of the most striking facts about Professor Bergson's works is
- the extent to which they have appealed not only to the professional
- philosophers, but also to the ordinary cultivated public. The method
- which he pursues is not the conceptual and abstract method which has
- been the dominant tradition in philosophy. For him reality is not to
- be reached by any elaborate construction of thought: it is given in
- immediate experience as a flux, a continuous process of becoming, to
- be grasped by intuition, by sympathetic insight. Concepts break up
- the continuous flow of reality into parts external to one another,
- they further the interests of language and social life and are useful
- primarily for practical purposes. But they give us nothing of the life
- and movement of reality; rather, by substituting for this an artificial
- reconstruction, a patchwork of dead fragments, they lead to the
- difficulties which have always beset the intellectualist philosophy,
- and which on its premises are insoluble. Instead of attempting a
- solution in the intellectualist sense, Professor Bergson calls upon
- his readers to put these broken fragments of reality behind them, to
- immerse themselves in the living stream of things and to find their
- difficulties swept away in its resistless flow.
- In the present volume Professor Bergson first deals with the intensity
- of conscious states. He shows that quantitative differences are
- applicable only to magnitudes, that is, in the last resort, to space,
- and that intensity in itself is purely qualitative. Passing then from
- the consideration of separate conscious states to their multiplicity,
- he finds that there are two forms of multiplicity: quantitative
- or discrete multiplicity involves the intuition of space, but the
- multiplicity of conscious states is wholly qualitative. This unfolding
- multiplicity constitutes duration, which is a succession without
- distinction, an interpenetration of elements so heterogeneous that
- former states can never recur. The idea of a homogeneous and measurable
- time is shown to be an artificial concept, formed by the intrusion of
- the idea of space into the realm of pure duration. Indeed, the whole of
- Professor Bergson's philosophy centres round his conception of _real
- concrete duration_ and the specific _feeling_ of duration which our
- consciousness has when it does away with convention and habit and gets
- back to its natural attitude. At the root of most errors in philosophy
- he finds a confusion between this _concrete duration_ and the _abstract
- time_ which mathematics, physics, and even language and common sense,
- substitute for it. Applying these results to the problem of free
- will, he shows that the difficulties arise from taking up one's
- stand _after_ the act has been performed, and applying the conceptual
- method to it. From the point of view of the living, developing self
- these difficulties are shown to be illusory, and freedom, though not
- definable in abstract or conceptual terms, is declared to be one of the
- clearest facts established by observation.
- It is no doubt misleading to attempt to sum up a system of philosophy
- in a sentence, but perhaps some part of the spirit of Professor
- Bergson's philosophy may be gathered from the motto which, with his
- permission, I have prefixed to this translation:--"If a man were to
- inquire of Nature the reason of her creative activity, and if she
- were willing to give ear and answer, she would say--'Ask me not, but
- understand in silence, even as I am silent and am not wont to speak.'"
- F. L. POGSON.
- OXFORD,
- _June,_ 1910.
- BIBLIOGRAPHY
- I. WORKS BY BERGSON.
- (a) _Books._
- Quid Aristoteles de loco senserit, (Thesis), Paris, 1889. Essai sur les
- données immédiates de la conscience, Paris, 1889, 1910⁷.
- Matière et Mémoire, Essai sur la relation du corps avec l'esprit,
- Paris, 1896, 1910⁶.
- Le Rire, Essai sur la signification du comique, Paris, 1900,
- 1910⁶. (First published in the _Revue de Paris,_ 1900, Vol.
- I., pp. 512-545 and 759-791.)
- L'Évolution créatrice, Paris, 1907, 1910⁶.
- (b) _Articles._
- La Spécialité. (Address at the distribution of prizes at the lycée of
- Angers, Aug. 1882.)
- De la simulation inconsciente dans l'état d'hypnotisme. _Revue
- philosophique,_ Vol. 22, 1886, pp. 525-531. Le bon sens et les études
- classiques. (Address at the distribution of prizes at the "Concours
- général des lycées et collèges," 1895.)
- Mémoire et reconnaissance. (_Revue philos._ Mar., Apr. 1896, pp.
- 225-248 and 380-399. Republished in _Matière et Mémoire._)
- Perception et matière. (_Rev. de Mét. et de Mor._ May 1896, pp.
- 257-277. Republished in _Matière et Mémoire._)
- Note sur les origines psychologiques de notre croyance à la loi
- de causalité. (Lecture at the Philosophical Congress in Paris,
- 1900, published in the _Bibliothèque du Congrès International de
- Philosophie;_ cf. _Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale,_ Sept. 1900, pp.
- 655 ff.)
- Le Rêve. (Lecture at the _Institut psychologique international_:
- published in the _Bulletin de l'Institut psych. intern._ May 1901; cf.
- _Revue scientifique,_ 4e S., Vol. 15, June 8, 1901, pp. 705-713, and
- _Revue de Philosophie,_ June 1901, pp. 486-488.)
- Le Parallélisme psycho-physique et la métaphysique positive. _Bulletin
- de la Société française de Philosophie,_ June 1901.
- L'Effort intellectuel. _Revue philosophique,_ Jan. 1902. Introduction à
- la métaphysique. _Revue de Mét. et de Mor._ Jan. 1903.
- Le Paralogisme psycho-physiologique. (Lecture at the Philosophical
- Congress in Geneva, 1904, published in the _Revue de Mét. et de Mor._
- Nov. 1904, pp. 895-908; see also pp. 1027-1036.)
- L'Idée de néant, _Rev. philos._ Nov. 1906, pp. 449-466. (Part of Chap.
- 4 of _L'Évolution créatrice._)
- Notice sur la vie et les œuvres de M. Félix Ravaisson-Mollien. (Lecture
- before the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques: published in
- the _Proceedings_ of the Academy, Vol. 25, pp. 1 ff. Paris, 1907.)
- Le Souvenir du présent et la fausse reconnaissance. _Rev. philos._ Dec.
- 1908, pp. 561-593.
- (c) _Miscellaneous._
- _Lucrèce:_ Extraits ... avec une étude sur la poésie, la philosophie,
- la physique, le texte et la langue de Lucrèce. Paris, 1884.
- Principes de métaphysique et de psychologie d'après M. Paul Janet.
- _Revue philos.,_ Vol. 44, Nov. 1897, pp. 525-551.
- Collaboration au _Vocabulaire philosophique, Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de
- Phil._ July 1902, Aug. 1907, Aug. 1908, Aug. 1909.
- Remarques sur la place et le caractère de la Philosophie dans
- l'Enseignement secondaire, _Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de Phil._ Feb.
- 1903, pp. 44 ff.
- Remarques sur la notion de la liberté morale, _Bulletin de la Soc. fr.
- de Phil._ Apr. 1903, pp. 101-103.
- Remarques à propos de la philosophie sociale de Cournot, _Bulletin de
- la Soc. fr. de Phil._ Aug. 1903, p. 229.
- Préface de la _Psychologie rationnelle_ de M. Lubac, Paris, Alcan, 1904.
- Sur sa relation à W. James, _Revue philosophique,_ Vol. 60, 1905, p.
- 229 f.
- Sur sa théorie de la perception, _Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de Philos._
- Mar. 1905, pp. 94 ff.
- Rapport sur le concours pour le prix Bordin, 1905, ayant pour sujet
- Maine de Biran. (_Mémoires de l'Académie des Sciences morales et
- politiques,_ Vol. 25, pp. 809 ff., Paris, 1907.)
- Rapport sur le concours pour le prix Le Dissez de Penanrun, 1907.
- (_Mémoires de l'Académie des Sciences morales et politiques,_ Vol. 26,
- pp. 771 ff. Paris, 1909.)
- Sur _l'Êvolution créatrice, Revue du Mois,_ Sept. 1907, p. 351.
- A propos de l'évolution de l'intelligence géométrique, _Revue de Mét.
- et de Mor._ Jan. 1908, pp. 28-33.
- Sur l'influence de sa philosophie sur les élèves des lycées,
- _Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de Philos.,_ Jan. 1908, p. 21; cf. _L'Année
- psychologique,_ 1908, pp. 229-231.
- Réponse à une enquête sur la question religieuse (_La Question
- religieuse_ par Frédéric Charpin, Paris, 1908).
- Remarques sur l'organisation des Congrès de Philosophie. _Bulletin de
- la Soc. fr. de Phil._ Jan. 1909, p. 11 f.
- Préface à un volume de la collection _Les grands philosophes,_ (_G.
- Tarde,_ par ses fils). Paris. Michaud, 1909.
- Remarques à propos d'une thèse soutenue par M. Dwelshauvers
- "L'inconscient dans la vie mentale." _Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de
- Phil.,_ Feb. 1910.
- A propos d'un article de Mr. W. B. Pitkin intitule "James and Bergson."
- _Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Vol. VII,
- No. 14, July 7, 1910, pp. 385-388.
- II. SELECT LIST OF BOOKS AND ARTICLES DEALING IN WHOLE OR IN PART WITH
- BERGSON AND HIS PHILOSOPHY.
- (Arranged alphabetically under each language.)
- _S. Alexander, Matière et Mémoire,_ (_Mind,_ Oct. 1897, pp. 572-3).
- _B. H. Bode, L'Évolution créatrice_, (_Philosophical Review_, 1908, pp.
- 84-89).
- _W. Boyd, L'Évolution créatrice_, (_Review of Theology and Philosophy,_
- Oct. 1907, pp. 249-251).
- _H. Wildon Carr,_ Bergson's Theory of Knowledge, (_Proceedings of the
- Aristotelian Society,_ London, 1909. New Series, Vol. IX, pp. 41-60).
- _H. Wildon Carr,_ Bergson's Theory of Instinct, (_Proceedings of the
- Aristotelian Society,_ London, 1910, N.S., Vol. X).
- _H. Wildon Carr,_ The Philosophy of Bergson, (_Hibbert Journal,_ July
- 1910, pp. 873-883).
- _W. J. Ferrar, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Commonwealth,_ Dec. 1909, pp.
- 364-367).
- _H. N. Gardiner, Mémoire et reconnaissance,_ (_Psychological Review,_
- 1896, pp. 578-580).
- _T. E. Hulme,_ The New Philosophy, (_New Age,_ July 1, 29, 1909).
- _William James,_ A Pluralistic Universe, London, 1909, pp. 225-273.
- _William James,_ The Philosophy of Bergson, (_Hibbert Journal,_ April
- 1909, pp. 562-577. Reprinted in _A Pluralistic Universe;_ see above).
- _William James,_ Bradley or Bergson? (_Journal of Philosophy,
- Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Vol. VII, No. 2, Jan. 20, 1910, pp.
- 29-33).
- _H. M. Kallen,_ James, Bergson and Mr. Pitkin, (_Journal of Philosophy,
- Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ June 23, 1910, pp. 353-357).
- _A. Lalande,_ Philosophy in France, 1907, (_Philosophical Review,_ May,
- 1908).
- _J. A. Leighton,_ On Continuity and Discreteness, (_Journal of
- Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Apr. 28, 1910, pp.
- 231-238).
- _T. Loveday, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Mind,_ July 1908, pp. 402-8).
- _A. O. Lovejoy,_ The Metaphysician of the Life-Force, (_Nation,_ New
- York, Sept. 30, 1909).
- _A. Mitchell, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Journal of Philosophy,
- Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Vol. V, No. 22, Oct. 22, 1908, pp.
- 603-612).
- _W. Scott Palmer,_ Presence and Omnipresence, (_Contemporary Review,_
- June 1908, pp. 734-742).
- _W. Scott Palmer,_ Thought and Instinct, (_Nation,_ June 5, 1909).
- _W. Scott Palmer,_ Life and the Brain, (_Contemporary Review,_ Oct.,
- 1909, pp. 474-484).
- _W. B. Pitkin,_ James and Bergson; or, Who is against Intellect?
- (_Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Apr. 28,
- 1910, pp. 225-231).
- _G. R. T. Ross,_ A New Theory of Laughter, (_Nation,_ Nov. 28, 1908).
- _G. R. T. Ross,_ The Philosophy of Vitalism, (_Nation,_ Mar. 13, 1909)
- _J. Royce,_ The Reality of the Temporal, (_Int. Journal of Ethics,_ Apr.
- 1910, pp. 257-271).
- _G. M. Sauvage,_ The New Philosophy in France, (_Catholic University
- Bulletin,_ Washington, Apr. 1906, Mar. 1908).
- _Norman Smith,_ Subjectivism and Realism in Modern Philosophy,
- (_Philosophical Review,_ Apr. 1908, pp. 138-148).
- _G. F. Stout,_ Free Will and Determinism, (_Speaker,_ London, May 10,
- 1890).
- _J. H. Tufts,_ Humor, (_Psychological Review,_ 1901, pp. 98-99).
- _G. Tyrrell,_ Creative Evolution, (_Hibbert Journal,_ Jan. 1908, pp.
- 435-442).
- _T. Whittaker, Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience,_
- (_Mind,_ Apr. 1890, pp. 292-3).
- _G. Aimel,_ Individualisme et philosophie bergsonienne, (_Revue de
- Philos.,_ June 1908).
- _Balthasar,_ Le problème de Dieu d'après la philosophie nouvelle,
- (_Revue néo-scolastique,_ Nov. 1907).
- _G. Batault,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson, (_Mercure de France,_ Mar.
- 16, 1908, pp. 193-211).
- _G. Belot,_ Une théorie nouvelle de la liberté, (_Revue philosophique,_
- Vol. XXX, 1890, pp. 360-392).
- _G. Belot,_ Un nouveau spiritualisme, _Matière et Mémoire,_ (_Rev.
- philos._ Vol. XLIV, 1897, pp. 183-199).
- _Jean Blum,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson et la poésie symboliste,
- (_Mercure de France,_ Sept. 15, 1906).
- _C. Bougie,_ Syndicalistes et Bergsoniens, (_Revue du Mois,_ Apr. 1909,
- pp. 403-416).
- _G. Cantecor,_ La philosophie nouvelle et la vie de l'esprit, (_Rev.
- philos._ Mar. 1903, pp. 252-277).
- _P. Cérésole,_ Le parallélisme psycho-physiologique et l'argument de M.
- Bergson, (_Archives de Psychologie,_ Vol. V, Oct. 1905, pp. 112-120).
- _A. Chaumeix,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson, (_Journal des Débats,_
- May 24, 1908. Reprinted in _Pragmatisme et Modernisme,_ Paris, Alcan,
- 1909).
- _A. Chaumeix,_ Les critiques du rationalisme, (_Revue Hebdomadaire,_
- Paris, Jan. 1, 1910, pp. 1-33).
- _A. Chide,_ Le mobilisme moderne, Paris, Alcan, 1908. (See also _Revue
- philos.,_ Apr. 1908, Dec. 1909).
- _C. Coignet,_ Kant et Bergson, (_Revue Chrétienne,_ July 1904).
- _C. Coignet,_ La vie d'après M. Bergson, (_Bericht über den III
- Kongress für Philosophie,_ Heidelberg, 1909, pp. 358-364).
- _L. Constant,_ Cours de M. Bergson sur l'histoire de l'idée de temps,
- (_Revue de Philos._ Jan. 1904, pp. 105-111. Summary of lectures).
- _P. L. Couchoud,_ La métaphysique nouvelle, à propos de _Matière et
- Mémoire_ de M. Bergson, (_Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale,_ Mar.
- 1902, pp. 225-243).
- _L. Couturat,_ La théorie du temps de Bergson, (_Rev. de Mét. et de
- Mor._ 1896, pp. 646-669).
- _Léon Cristiani,_ Le problème de Dieu et le pragmatisme, Paris, Bloud
- et Cie., 1908.
- _F. Le Dantec, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Revue du Mois,_ Aug. 1907.
- Reprinted in _Science et Conscience,_ Paris, Flammarion, 1908).
- _L. Dauriac, Le Rire,_ (_Revue philos._ Dec. 1900, pp. 665-670).
- _V. Delbos, Matière et Mémoire,_ (_Rev. de Mét. et de Mor._ May 1897,
- pp. 353-389).
- _G. L. Duprat,_ La spatialité des faits psychiques, (_Rev. philos.,_
- May 1907, pp. 492-501).
- _G. Dwelshauvers,_ Raison et Intuition, Étude sur la philosophie de M.
- Bergson, (_La Belgique artistique et littéraire,_ Nov. Dec. 1905, Apr.
- 1906).
- _G. Dwelshauvers,_ M. Bergson et la méthode intuitive, (_Revue du
- Mois,_ Sept. 1907, pp. 336-350).
- _G. Dwelshauvers,_ De l'intuition dans l'acte de l'esprit, (_Rev. de
- Mét. et de Mor._ Jan. 1908, pp. 55-65).
- _A. Farges,_ Le problème de la contingence d'après M. Bergson, (_Revue
- pratique d'apologétique,_ Apr. 15, 1909).
- _A. Farges,_ L'erreur fondamentale de la philosophie nouvelle, (_Revue
- thomiste,_ May-June, 1909).
- _A. Farges,_ Théorie fondamentale de l'acte, avec la critique de la
- philosophie nouvelle de M. Bergson, Paris, Berche et Tralin, 1909.
- _Alfred Fouillée,_ Le mouvement idéaliste et la réaction contre la
- science positive, Paris, Alcan, 1896, pp. 198-206.
- _Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange,_ Le sens commun, la philosophie de l'être et
- les formules dogmatiques, Paris, Beauchesne, 1909.
- _Jules de Gaultier,_ Le réalisme du continu, (_Revue philos.,_ Jan.
- 1910, pp. 39-64).
- _René Gillouin,_ Henri Bergson, Paris, 1910. (A volume in the series
- _Les grands philosophes_).
- _A. Hollard, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Foi et Vie,_ Sept. 16, 1907, pp.
- 545-550).
- _B. Jacob,_ La philosophie d'hier et celle d'aujourd'hui, (_Rev. de
- Mét. et de Mor._ Mar. 1898, pp. 170-201).
- _G. Lechalas,_ Le nombre et le temps dans leurs rapports avec l'espace,
- (_Ann. de Phil, chrét._ N.S. Vol. 22, 1890, pp. 516-540).
- _G. Lechalas, Matière et Mémoire,_ (_Ann. de Phil, chrét._ N.S. Vol.
- 36, 1897, pp. 149-164 and 314-334)
- _A. Joussain,_ Romantisme et Religion, Paris, Alcan, 1910.
- _Legendre,_ M. Bergson et son _Évolution créatrice_, (_Bulletin de la
- Semaine,_ May 6, 1908).
- _Lenoble, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Revue du Clergé français,_ Jan.,
- 1908).
- _E. Le Roy,_ Science et Philosophie, (A Series of articles in the _Rev.
- de Mét. et de Mor._ 1899 and 1900).
- _L. Lévy-Bruhl, L'Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience,_
- (_Rev. philos.,_ Vol. 29, 1890, pp. 519-538).
- _G. H. Luquet,_ Idées générales de psychologie, Paris, 1906.
- _J. Lux,_ Nos philosophes, M. Henri Bergson, (_Revue Bleue,_ Dec. 1,
- 1906).
- _X. Moisant,_ La notion de multiplicité dans la philosophie de M.
- Bergson, (_Revue de Philos.,_ June, 1902).
- _X. Moisant,_ Dieu dans la philosophie de M. Bergson, (_Revue de
- Philos.,_ May, 1905).
- _G. Mondain,_ Remarques sur la théorie matérialiste, (_Foi et Vie,_
- June 15, 1908, pp. 369-373).
- _D. Parodi, Le Rire,_ par H. Bergson, (_Rev. de Mét. et de Mor._ Mar.
- 1901, pp. 224-236).
- _T. M. Pègues L'Évolution créatrice_ (_Revue thomiste,_ May-June 1908,
- pp. 137-163).
- _C. Piat,_ De l'insuffisance des philosophies de l'intuition, Paris,
- 1908.
- _Maurice Pradines,_ Principes de toute philosophie de l'action, Paris,
- 1910.
- _G. Rageot, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Rev. philos.,_ July 1907).
- Reprinted and enlarged in _Les savants et la philosophie,_ Paris,
- Alcan, 1907.
- _F. Rauh,_ La conscience du devenir, (_Rev. de Mét. et de Mor._ Nov.
- 1897, pp. 659-681, and Jan. 1898, pp. 38-60).
- _F. Rauh,_ Sur la position du problème du libre arbitre, (_Rev. de Mét.
- et de Mor._ Nov. 1904, pp. 977-1006).
- _P. P. Raymond,_ La philosophie de l'intuition et la philosophie du
- concept, (_Études franciscaines,_ June 1909).
- _E. Seillière,_ L'Allemagne et la philosophie bergsonienne,
- (_L'Opinion,_ July 3, 1909).
- _G. Sorel, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Le Mouvement socialiste,_ Oct.
- Dec. 1907, Jan. Mar. Apr. 1908).
- _T. Steeg,_ Henri Bergson: Notice biographique avec portrait, (_Revue
- universelle,_ Jan. 1902, pp. 15-16).
- _J. de Tonquébec,_ La notion de la vérité dans la philosophie nouvelle,
- Paris, 1908.
- _J. de Tonquébec,_ Comment interpréter l'ordre du monde à propos du
- dernier ouvrage de M. Bergson, Paris, Beauchesne, 1908.
- _H. Trouche, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Revue de Philos._ Nov. 1908).
- _H. Villassère, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Bulletin critique,_ Sept.
- 1908, pp. 392-411.)
- _Tancrède de Visan,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson et le lyrisme
- contemporain, (_Vers et Prose,_ Vol. XXI, 1910, pp. 125-140).
- _L. Weber, L'Évolution créatrice,_ (_Rev. de Mét. et de Mor._ Sept.
- 1907, pp. 620-670).
- _V. Wilbois,_ L'esprit positif, (A series of articles in the _Rev. de
- Mét. et de Mor._1900 and 1901).
- _I. Benrubi,_ Henri Bergson, (_Die Zukunft,_ June 4, 1910).
- _K. Bornhausen,_ Die Philosophie Henri Bergsons und ihre Bedeutung
- für den Religionsbegriff, (_Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche,_
- Tübingen, Jahrg. XX, Heft I 1910, pp. 39-77.)
- _O. Braun, Materie und Gedächtnis,_ (_Archiv für die gesamte
- Psychologie,_ Vol. 15, 1909, Heft 4, pp. 13-15).
- _Hans Driesch,_ H. Bergson, der biologische Philosoph., (_Zeitschrift
- für den Ausbau der Entwickelungslehre,_ Jahrg. II, Heft 1/2, Stuttgart,
- 1908).
- _V. Eschbach,_ Henri Bergson, (_Kölnische Volkszeitung,_ Jan. 20, 1910).
- _Giessler, Le Rêve,_ (_Zeitschrift für Psychologie und Physiologie der
- Sinnesorgane,_ Vol. 29, 1902, p. 231).
- _J. Goldstein,_ Henri Bergson und der Zeitlosigkeitsidealismus,
- (_Frankfurter Zeitung,_ May 2, 1909).
- _J. Goldstein,_ Henri Bergson und die Sozialwissenschaft, (_Archiv für
- Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik,_ Bd. XXXI, Heft 1, July 1910, pp.
- 1-22).
- _A. Gurewitsch,_ Die französische Metaphysik der Gegenwart (_Archiv für
- system. Philos._ Bd. IX, Heft 4, Nov. 1903, pp. 462-490).
- _Heymans, Le Rire,_ (_Zeitsch. f. Psychol, u. Physiol. d.
- Sinnesorgane,_ Vol. 25, 1901, pp. 155-6).
- _K. Joël,_ Neues Denken, (_Neue Rundschau,_ Apr. 1910, pp. 549-558).
- _H. von Keyserling,_ Bergson, (_Allgemeine Zeitung,_ München, Nov. 28,
- 1908).
- _R. Kroner,_ Henri Bergson, (_Logos,_ Bd. I, Heft 1, Tübingen, 1910).
- _A. Lasson,_ H. Bergson, (_Deutsche Literaturzeitung_, May 28, 1910).
- _R. Müller-Freienfels, Materie und Gedächtnis,_ (_Zeitsch. f. Psychol.
- u. Physiol, d. Sinnesorgane,_ May 1910, Vol. 56, Heft 1/2, pp. 126-129).
- _Α. Pilzecker, Mémoire et reconnaissance,_ (_Zeitsch. f. Psychol., u.
- Physiol, d. Sinnesorgane,_ Vol. 13, 1897, pp. 229-232).
- _Hans Prager,_ Henri Bergsons metaphysische Grundanschauung, (_Archiv
- für system. Philos._ 1910, Bd. XVI, Heft 3, pp. 310-320).
- _G. Seliber,_ Der Pragmatismus und seine Gegner, (_Archiv für system.
- Philos._ 1909, pp. 287-298).
- _A. Steenbergen,_ Henri Bergsons Intuitive Philosophie, Jena, 1909.
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- _I. Petrone,_ Sui limiti del determinismo scientifico, Modena, 1900;
- Roma, 1903.
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- AUTHOR'S PREFACE
- We necessarily express ourselves by means of words and we usually
- think in terms of space. That is to say, language requires us to
- establish between our ideas the same sharp and precise distinctions,
- the same discontinuity, as between material objects. This assimilation
- of thought to things is useful in practical life and necessary in
- most of the sciences. But it may be asked whether the insurmountable
- difficulties presented by certain philosophical problems do not arise
- from our placing side by side in space phenomena which do not occupy
- space, and whether, by merely getting rid of the clumsy symbols round
- which we are fighting, we might not bring the fight to an end. When
- an illegitimate translation of the unextended into the extended, of
- quality into quantity, has introduced contradiction into the very heart
- of the question, contradiction must, of course, recur in the answer.
- The problem which I have chosen is one which is common to metaphysics
- and psychology, the problem of free will. What I attempt to prove
- is that all discussion between the determinists and their opponents
- implies a previous confusion of duration with extensity, of succession
- with simultaneity, of quality with quantity: this confusion once
- dispelled, we may perhaps witness the disappearance of the objections
- raised against free will, of the definitions given of it, and, in a
- certain sense, of the problem of free will itself. To prove this is the
- object of the third part of the present volume: the first two chapters,
- which treat of the conceptions of intensity and duration, have been
- written as an introduction to the third.
- H. BERGSON.
- _February,_ 1888.
- CONTENTS
- CHAPTER I
- THE INTENSITY OF PSYCHIC STATES
- Quantitative differences applicable to magnitudes but not to
- intensities, 1-4; Attempt to estimate intensities by objective
- causes or atomic movements, 4-7; Different kinds of intensities, 7;
- Deep-seated psychic states: desire, 8, hope, 9, joy and sorrow, 10;
- Aesthetic feelings, 11-18: grace, 12, beauty, 14-18, music, poetry,
- art, 15-18; Moral feelings, pity, 19; Conscious states involving
- physical symptoms, 20: muscular effort, 21-26, attention and muscular
- tension, 27-28; Violent emotions, 29-31: rage, 29, fear, 30;
- Affective sensations, 32-39: pleasure and pain, 33-39, disgust, 36;
- Representative sensations, 39-60: and external causes, 42, sensation
- of sound, 43, intensity, pitch and muscular effort, 45-6, sensations
- of heat and cold, 46-7, sensations of pressure and weight, 47-50,
- sensation of light, 50-60, photometric experiments, 52-60, Delbœuf's
- experiments, 56-60; Psychophysics, 60-72: Weber and Fechner, 61-65,
- Delbœuf, 67-70, the mistake of regarding sensations as magnitudes,
- 70-72; Intensity in (1) representative, (2) affective states, intensity
- and multiplicity, 72-74.
- _pp._1-74
- CHAPTER II
- THE MULTIPLICITY OF CONSCIOUS STATES
- THE IDEA OF DURATION
- Number and its units, 75-77, number and accompanying intuition of
- space, 78-85; Two kinds of multiplicity, of material objects and
- conscious states, 85-87, impenetrability of matter, 88-89, homogeneous
- time and pure duration, 90-91; Space and its contents, 92, empirical
- theories of space, 93-94, intuition of empty homogeneous medium
- peculiar to man, 95-97, time as homogeneous medium reducible to
- space, 98-99; Duration, succession and space, 100-104, pure duration,
- 105-106; Is duration measurable? 107-110; Is motion measurable?
- 111-112; Paradox of the Eleatics, 113-115; Duration and simultaneity,
- 115-116; Velocity and simultaneity, 117-119; Space alone homogeneous,
- duration and succession belong to conscious mind, 120-121; Two kinds
- of multiplicity, qualitative and quantitative, 121-123, superficial
- psychic states invested with discontinuity of their external causes,
- 124-126, these eliminated, real duration is felt as a quality, 127-128;
- The two aspects of the self, on the surface well-defined conscious
- states, deeper down states which interpenetrate and form organic whole,
- 129-139, solidifying influence of language on sensation, 129-132,
- analysis distorts the feelings, 132-134, deeper conscious states
- forming a part of ourselves, 134-136; Problems soluble only by recourse
- to the concrete and living self, 137-139.
- _pp._ 75-139
- CHAPTER III
- THE ORGANIZATION OF CONSCIOUS STATES
- FREE WILL
- Dynamism and mechanism, 140-142; Two kinds of determinism, 142;
- Physical determinism, 143-155: and molecular theory of matter, 143, and
- conservation of energy, 144, if conservation universal, physiological
- and nervous phenomena necessitated, but perhaps not conscious states,
- 145-148, but is principle of conversation universal? 149, it may
- not apply to living beings and conscious states, 150-154, idea of
- its universality depends on confusion between concrete duration and
- abstract time, 154-155; Psychological determinism, 155-163: implies
- associationist conception of mind, 155-158, this involves defective
- conception of self, 159-163; The free act: freedom as expressing the
- fundamental self, 165-170; Real duration and contingency, 172-182:
- could our act have been different? 172-175, geometrical representation
- of process of coming to a decision, 175-178, the fallacies to which
- it leads determinists and libertarians, 179-183; Real duration and
- prediction, 183-198: conditions of Paul's prediction of Peter's action
- (1) being Peter (2) knowing already his final act, 184-189, the
- three fallacies involved, 190-192, astronomical prediction depends
- on hypothetical acceleration of movements, 193-195, duration cannot
- be thus accelerated, 196-198; Real duration and causality, 199-221:
- the law "same antecedents, same consequents," 199-201, causality as
- regular succession, 202-203, causality as prefiguring: two kinds (1)
- prefiguring as mathematical pre-existence; implies non-duration, but
- we _endure_ and therefore may be free, 204-210, (2) prefiguring as
- having idea of future act to be realized by effort; does not involve
- determinism, 211-214, determinism results from confusing these two
- senses, 215-218; Freedom real but indefinable, 219-221.
- _pp._140-221
- CONCLUSION
- States of self perceived through forms borrowed from external world,
- 223; Intensity as quality, 225; Duration as qualitative multiplicity,
- 226; No duration in the external world, 227; Extensity and duration
- must be separated, 229; Only the fundamental self free, 231; Kant's
- mistaken idea of time as homogeneous, 232, hence he put the self which
- is free outside both space and time, 233; Duration is heterogeneous,
- relation of psychic state to act is unique, and act is free, 235-240.
- _pp._ 222-240
- INDEX
- CHAPTER I
- THE INTENSITY OF PSYCHIC STATES
- [Sidenote: Can there be quantitative differences in conscious states?]
- It is usually admitted that states of consciousness, sensations,
- feelings, passions, efforts, are capable of growth and diminution; we
- are even told that a sensation can be said to be twice, thrice, four
- times as intense as another sensation of the same kind. This latter
- thesis, which is maintained by psychophysicists, we shall examine
- later; but even the opponents of psychophysics do not see any harm
- in speaking of one sensation as being more intense than another, of
- one effort as being greater than another, and in thus setting up
- differences of quantity between purely internal states. Common sense,
- moreover, has not the slightest hesitation in giving its verdict on
- this point; people say they are more or less warm, or more or less sad,
- and this distinction of more and less, even when it is carried over
- to the region of subjective facts and unextended objects, surprises
- nobody. But this involves a very obscure point and a much more
- important problem than is usually supposed.
- When we assert that one number is greater than another number or one
- body greater than another body, we know very well what we mean.
- [Sidenote: Such differences applicable to magnitudes but not to
- intensities.]
- For in both cases we allude to unequal spaces, as shall be shown in
- detail a little further on, and we call that space the greater which
- contains the other. But how can a more intense sensation contain one of
- less intensity? Shall we say that the first implies the second, that
- we reach the sensation of higher intensity only on condition of having
- first passed through the less intense stages of the same sensation, and
- that in a certain sense we are concerned, here also, with the relation
- of container to contained? This conception of intensive magnitude
- seems, indeed, to be that of common sense, but we cannot advance it
- as a philosophical explanation without becoming involved in a vicious
- circle. For it is beyond doubt that, in the natural series of numbers,
- the later number exceeds the earlier, but the very possibility of
- arranging the numbers in ascending order arises from their having
- to each other relations of container and contained, so that we feel
- ourselves able to explain precisely in what sense one is greater than
- the other. The question, then, is how we succeed in forming a series of
- this kind with intensities, which cannot be superposed on each other,
- and by what sign we recognize that the members of this series increase,
- for example, instead of diminishing: but this always comes back to the
- inquiry, why an intensity can be assimilated to a magnitude.
- [Sidenote: Alleged distinction between two kinds of quantity: extensive
- and intensive magnitude.]
- It is only to evade the difficulty to distinguish, as is usually done,
- between two species of quantity, the first extensive and measurable,
- the second intensive and not admitting of measure, but of which it can
- nevertheless be said that it is greater or less than another intensity.
- For it is recognized thereby that there is something common to these
- two forms of magnitude, since they are both termed magnitudes and
- declared to be equally capable of increase and diminution. But, from
- the point of view of magnitude, what can there be in common between
- the extensive and the intensive, the extended and the unextended? If,
- in the first case, we call that which contains the other the greater
- quantity, why go on speaking of quantity and magnitude when there
- is no longer a container or a contained? If a quantity can increase
- and diminish, if we perceive in it, so to speak, the _less_ inside
- the _more,_ is not such a quantity on this very account divisible,
- and thereby extended? Is it not then a contradiction to speak of an
- inextensive quantity? But yet common sense agrees with the philosophers
- in setting up a pure intensity as a magnitude, just as if it were
- something extended. And not only do we use the same word, but whether
- we think of a greater intensity or a greater extensity, we experience
- in both cases an analogous impression; the terms "greater" and "less"
- call up in both cases the same idea. If we now ask ourselves in what
- does this idea consist, our consciousness still offers us the image
- of a container and a contained. We picture to ourselves, for example,
- a greater intensity of effort as a greater length of thread rolled
- up, or as a spring which, in unwinding, will occupy a greater space.
- In the idea of intensity, and even in the word which expresses it,
- we shall find the image of a present contraction and consequently a
- future expansion, the image of something virtually extended, and, if
- we may say so, of a compressed space. We are thus led to believe that
- we translate the intensive into the extensive, and that we compare
- two intensities, or at least express the comparison, by the confused
- intuition of a relation between two extensities. But it is just the
- nature of this operation which it is difficult to determine.
- [Sidenote: Attempt to distinguish intensities by objective causes. But
- we judge of intensity without knowing magnitude or nature of the cause.]
- The solution which occurs immediately to the mind, once it has entered
- upon this path, consists in defining the intensity of a sensation,
- or of any state whatever of the ego, by the number and magnitude of
- the objective, and therefore measurable, causes which have given rise
- to it. Doubtless, a more intense sensation of light is the one which
- has been obtained, or is obtainable, by means of a larger number of
- luminous sources, provided they be at the same distance and identical
- with one another. But, in the immense majority of cases, we decide
- about the intensity of the effect without even knowing the nature of
- the cause, much less its magnitude: indeed, it is the very intensity
- of the effect which often leads us to venture an hypothesis as to the
- number and nature of the causes, and thus to revise the judgment of
- our senses, which at first represented them as insignificant. And it
- is no use arguing that we are then comparing the actual state of the
- ego with some previous state in which the cause was perceived in its
- entirety at the same time as its effect was experienced. No doubt this
- is our procedure in a fairly large number of cases; but we cannot
- then explain the differences of intensity which we recognize between
- deep-seated psychic phenomena, the cause of which is within us and
- not outside. On the other hand, we are never so bold in judging the
- intensity of a psychic state as when the subjective aspect of the
- phenomenon is the only one to strike us, or when the external cause to
- which we refer it does not easily admit of measurement. Thus it seems
- evident that we experience a more intense pain at the pulling out of a
- tooth than of a hair; the artist knows without the possibility of doubt
- that the picture of a master affords him more intense pleasure than
- the signboard of a shop; and there is not the slightest need ever to
- have heard of forces of cohesion to assert that we expend less effort
- in bending a steel blade than a bar of iron. Thus the comparison of
- two intensities is usually made without the least appreciation of the
- number of causes, their mode of action or their extent.
- [Sidenote: Attempt to distinguish intensities by atomic movements.
- But it is the sensation which is given in consciousness, and not the
- movement.]
- There is still room, it is true, for an hypothesis of the same nature,
- but more subtle. We know that mechanical, and especially kinetic,
- theories aim at explaining the visible and sensible properties of
- bodies by _well_ defined movements of their ultimate parts, and many of
- us foresee the time when the intensive differences of qualities, that
- is to say, of our sensations, will be reduced to extensive differences
- between the changes taking place behind them. May it not be maintained
- that, without knowing these theories, we have a vague surmise of them,
- that behind the more intense sound we guess the presence of ampler
- vibrations which are propagated in the disturbed medium, and that it
- is with a reference to this mathematical relation, precise in itself
- though confusedly perceived, that we assert the higher intensity of a
- particular sound? Without even going so far, could it not be laid down
- that every state of consciousness corresponds to a certain disturbance
- of the molecules and atoms of the cerebral substance, and that the
- intensity of a sensation measures the amplitude, the complication or
- the extent of these molecular movements? This last hypothesis is at
- least as probable as the other, but it no more solves the problem.
- For, quite possibly, the intensity of a sensation bears witness to a
- more or less considerable work accomplished in our organism; but it
- is the sensation which is given to us in consciousness, and not this
- mechanical work. Indeed, it is by the intensity of the sensation that
- we judge of the greater or less amount of work accomplished: intensity
- then remains, at least apparently, a property of sensation. And still
- the same question recurs: why do we say of a higher intensity that it
- is greater? Why do we think of a greater quantity or a greater space?
- [Sidenote: Different kinds of intensities. (1) deep-seated psychic
- statese (2)muscular effort. Intensity is more easily definable in the
- former case.]
- Perhaps the difficulty of the problem lies chiefly in the fact that
- we call by the same name, and picture to ourselves in the same way,
- intensities which are very different in nature, e.g. the intensity of a
- feeling and that of a sensation or an effort.
- The effort is accompanied by a muscular sensation, and the sensations
- themselves are connected with certain physical conditions which
- probably count for something in the estimate of their intensity: we
- have here to do with phenomena which take place on the surface of
- consciousness, and which are always connected, as we shall see further
- on, with the perception of a movement or of an external object. But
- certain states of the soul seem to us, rightly or wrongly, to be
- self-sufficient, such as deep joy or sorrow, a reflective passion or an
- aesthetic emotion. Pure intensity ought to be more easily definable in
- these simple cases, where no extensive element seems to be involved. We
- shall see, in fact, that it is reducible here to a certain quality or
- shade which spreads over a more or less considerable mass of psychic
- states, or, if the expression be preferred, to the larger or smaller
- number of simple states which make up the fundamental emotion.
- [Sidenote: Take, for example, the progress of a desire.]
- For example, an obscure desire gradually becomes a deep passion. Now,
- you will see that thee feeble intensity of this desire consisted at
- first in its appearing to be isolated and, as it were, foreign to the
- remainder of your inner life. But little by little it permeates a
- larger number of psychic elements, tingeing them, so to speak, with
- its own colour: and lo! your outlook on the whole of your surroundings
- seems now to have changed radically. How do you become aware of a deep
- passion, once it has taken hold of you, if not by perceiving that
- the same objects no longer impress you in the same manner? All your
- sensations and all your ideas seem to brighten up: it is like childhood
- back again. We experience something of the kind in certain dreams, in
- which we do not imagine anything out of the ordinary, and yet through
- which there resounds an indescribable note of originality. The fact is
- that, the further we penetrate into the depths of consciousness, the
- less right we have to treat psychic phenomena as things which are set
- side by side. When it is said that an object occupies a large space
- in the soul or even that it fills it entirely, we ought to understand
- by this simply that its image has altered the shade of a thousand
- perceptions or memories, and that in this sense it pervades them,
- although it does not itself come into view. But this wholly dynamic
- way of looking at things is repugnant to the reflective consciousness,
- because the latter delights in clean cut distinctions, which are
- easily expressed in words, and in things with well-defined outlines,
- like those which are perceived in space. It will assume then that,
- everything else remaining identical, such and such a desire has gone up
- a scale of magnitudes, as though it were permissible still to speak of
- magnitude where there is neither multiplicity nor space! But just as
- consciousness (as will be shown later on) concentrates on a given point
- of the organism the increasing number of muscular contractions which
- take place on the surface of the body, thus converting them into one
- single feeling of effort, of growing intensity, so it will hypostatize
- under the form of a growing desire the gradual alterations which take
- place in the confused heap of co-existing psychic states. But that is a
- change of quality rather than of magnitude.
- What makes hope such an intense pleasure is the fact that the future,
- which we dispose of to our liking, appears to us at the same time under
- a multitude of forms, equally attractive and equally possible. Even
- if the most coveted of these becomes realized, it will be necessary to
- give up the others, and we shall have lost a great deal. The idea of
- the future, pregnant with an infinity of possibilities, is thus more
- fruitful than the future itself, and this is why we find more charm in
- hope than in possession, in dreams than in reality.
- [Sidenote: The emotions of joy and sorrow. Their successive stages
- correspond to qualitative changes in the whole of our psychic states.]
- Let us try to discover the nature of an increasing intensity of joy or
- sorrow in the exceptional cases where no physical symptom intervenes.
- Neither inner joy nor passion is an isolated inner state which at
- first occupies a corner of the soul and gradually spreads. At its
- lowest level it is very like a turning of our states of consciousness
- towards the future. Then, as if their weight were diminished by this
- attraction, our ideas and sensations succeed one another with greater
- rapidity; our movements no longer cost us the same effort. Finally,
- in cases of extreme joy, our perceptions and memories become tinged
- with an indefinable quality, as with a kind of heat or light, so
- novel that now and then, as we stare at our own self, we wonder how
- it can really exist. Thus there are several characteristic forms of
- purely inward joy, all of which are successive stages corresponding to
- qualitative alterations in the whole of our psychic states. But the
- number of states which are concerned with each of these alterations
- is more or less considerable, and, without explicitly counting them,
- we know very well whether, for example, our joy pervades all the
- impressions which we receive in the course of the day or whether any
- escape from its influence. We thus set up points of division in the
- interval which separates two successive forms of joy, and this gradual
- transition from one to the other makes them appear in their turn as
- different intensities of one and the same feeling, which is thus
- supposed to change in magnitude. It could be easily shown that the
- different degrees of sorrow also correspond to qualitative changes.
- Sorrow begins by being nothing more than a facing towards the past, an
- impoverishment of our sensations and ideas, as if each of them were now
- contained entirely in the little which it gives out, as if the future
- were in some way stopped up. And it ends with an impression of crushing
- failure, the effect of which is that we aspire to nothingness, while
- every new misfortune, by making us understand better the uselessness of
- the struggle, causes us a bitter pleasure.
- [Sidenote: The aesthetic feelings. Their increasing intensities are
- really different feelings.]
- The aesthetic feelings offer us a still more striking example of this
- progressive stepping in of new elements, which can be detected in the
- fundamental emotion and which seem to increase its magnitude, although
- in reality they do nothing more than alter its nature. Let us consider
- the simplest of them, the feeling of grace. At first it is only the
- perception of a certain ease, a certain facility in the outward
- movements. And as those movements are easy which prepare the way for
- others, we are led to find a superior ease in the movements which can
- be foreseen, in the present attitudes in which future attitudes are
- pointed out and, as it were, prefigured. If jerky movements are wanting
- in grace, the reason is that each of them is self-sufficient and does
- not announce those which are to follow. If curves are more graceful
- than broken lines, the reason is that, while a curved line changes its
- direction at every moment, every new direction is indicated in the
- preceding one. Thus the perception of ease in motion passes over into
- the pleasure of mastering the flow of time and of holding the future
- in the present. A third element comes in when the graceful movements
- submit to a rhythm and are accompanied by music. For the rhythm and
- measure, by allowing us to foresee to a still greater extent the
- movements of the dancer, make us believe that we now control them. As
- we guess almost the exact attitude which the dancer is going to take,
- he seems to obey us when he really takes it: the regularity of the
- rhythm establishes a kind of communication between him and us, and the
- periodic returns of the measure are like so many invisible threads by
- means of which we set in motion this imaginary puppet. Indeed, if it
- stops for an instant, our hand in its impatience cannot refrain from
- making a movement, as though to push it, as though to replace it in
- the midst of this movement, the rhythm of which has taken complete
- possession of our thought and will. Thus a kind of physical sympathy
- enters into the feeling of grace. Now, in analysing the charm of this
- sympathy, you will find that it pleases you through its affinity
- with moral sympathy, the idea of which it subtly suggests. This last
- element, in which the others are merged after having in a measure
- ushered it in, explains the irresistible attractiveness of grace.
- We could hardly make out why it affords us such pleasure if it were
- nothing but a saving of effort, as Spencer maintains.[1] But the truth
- is that in anything which we call very graceful we imagine ourselves
- able to detect, besides the lightness which is a sign of mobility,
- some suggestion of a possible movement towards ourselves, of a virtual
- and even nascent sympathy. It is this mobile sympathy, always ready
- to offer itself, which is just the essence of higher grace. Thus the
- increasing intensities of aesthetic feeling are here resolved into as
- many different feelings, each one of which, already heralded by its
- predecessor, becomes perceptible in it and then completely eclipses
- it. It is this qualitative progress which we interpret as a change of
- magnitude, because we like simple thoughts and because our language is
- ill-suited to render the subtleties of psychological analysis.
- [Sidenote: The feeling of beauty: art puts to sleep our active and
- resistant powers and makes us responsive to suggestion.]
- To understand how the feeling of the beautiful itself admits of
- degrees, we should have to submit it to a minute analysis. Perhaps
- the difficulty which we experience in defining: it is largely owing to
- the fact that we look upon the beauties of nature as anterior to those
- of art: the processes of art are thus supposed to be nothing more than
- means by which the artist expresses the beautiful, and the essence of
- the beautiful remains unexplained. But we might ask ourselves whether
- nature is beautiful otherwise than through meeting by chance certain
- processes of our art, and whether, in a certain sense, art is not prior
- to nature. Without even going so far, it seems more in conformity
- with the rules of a sound method to study the beautiful first in the
- works in which it has been produced by a conscious effort, and then
- to pass on by imperceptible steps from art to nature, which may be
- looked upon as an artist in its own way. By placing ourselves at this
- point of view, we shall perceive that the object of art is to put to
- sleep the active or rather resistant powers of our personality, and
- thus to bring us into a state of perfect responsiveness, in which
- we realize the idea that is suggested to us and sympathize with the
- feeling that is expressed. In the processes of art we shall find, in a
- weakened form, a refined and in some measure spiritualized version of
- the processes commonly used to induce the state of hypnosis. Thus, in
- music, the rhythm and measure suspend the normal flow of our sensations
- and ideas by causing our attention to swing to and fro between fixed
- points, and they take hold of us with such force that even the faintest
- imitation of a groan will suffice to fill us with the utmost sadness.
- If musical sounds affect us more powerfully than the sounds of nature,
- the reason is that nature confines itself to _expressing_ feelings,
- whereas music _suggests_ them to us. Whence indeed comes the charm of
- poetry? The poet is he with whom feelings develop into images, and the
- images themselves into words which translate them while obeying the
- laws of rhythm. In seeing these images pass before our eyes we in our
- turn experience the feeling which was, so to speak, their emotional
- equivalent: but we should never realize these images so strongly
- without the regular movements of the rhythm by which our soul is lulled
- into self-forgetfulness, and, as in a dream, thinks and sees with the
- poet. The plastic arts obtain an effect of the same kind by the fixity
- which they suddenly impose upon life, and which a physical contagion
- carries over to the attention of the spectator. While the works of
- ancient sculpture express faint emotions which play upon them like a
- passing breath, the pale immobility of the stone causes the feeling
- expressed or the movement just begun to appear as if they were fixed
- for ever, absorbing our thought and our will in their own eternity. We
- find in architecture, in the very midst of this startling immobility,
- certain effects analogous to those of rhythm. The symmetry of form,
- the indefinite repetition of the same architectural motive, causes
- our faculty of perception to oscillate between the same and the same
- again, and gets rid of those customary incessant changes which in
- ordinary life bring us back without ceasing to the consciousness of
- our personality: even the faint suggestion of an idea will then be
- enough to make the idea fill the whole of our mind. Thus art aims at
- impressing feelings on us rather than expressing them; it suggests
- them to us, and willingly dispenses with the imitation of nature when
- it finds some more efficacious means. Nature, like art, proceeds by
- suggestion, but does not command the resources of rhythm. It supplies
- the deficiency by the long comradeship, based on influences received
- in common by nature and by ourselves, of which the effect is that the
- slightest indication by nature of a feeling arouses sympathy in our
- minds, just as a mere gesture on the part of the hypnotist is enough to
- force the intended suggestion upon a subject accustomed to his control.
- And this sympathy is shown in particular when nature displays to us
- beings of _normal_ proportions, so that our attention is distributed
- equally over all the parts of the figure without being fixed on any one
- of them: our perceptive faculty then finds itself lulled and soothed by
- this harmony, and nothing hinders any longer the free play of sympathy,
- which is ever ready to come forward as soon as the obstacle in its path
- is removed.
- [Sidenote: Stages in the aesthetic emotion.]
- It follows from this analysis that the feeling of the beautiful is
- no specific feeling, but that every feeling experienced by us will
- assume an aesthetic character, provided that it has been _suggested,_
- and not _caused._ It will now be understood why the aesthetic emotion
- seems to us to admit of degrees of intensity, and also of degrees of
- elevation. Sometimes the feeling which is suggested scarcely makes a
- break in the compact texture of psychic phenomena of which our history
- consists; sometimes it draws our attention from them, but not so that
- they become lost to sight; sometimes, finally, it puts itself in their
- place, engrosses us and completely monopolizes our soul. There are
- thus distinct phases in the progress of an aesthetic feeling, as in
- the state of hypnosis; and these phases correspond less to variations
- of degree than to differences of state or of nature. But the merit
- of a work of art is not measured so much by the power with which the
- suggested feeling takes hold of us as by the richness of this feeling
- itself: in other words, besides degrees of intensity we instinctively
- distinguish degrees of depth or elevation. If this last concept be
- analysed, it will be seen that the feelings and thoughts which the
- artist suggests to us express and sum up a more or less considerable
- part of his history. If the art which gives only sensations is an
- inferior art, the reason is that analysis often fails to discover in
- a sensation anything beyond the sensation itself. But the greater
- number of emotions are instinct with a thousand sensations, feelings
- or ideas which pervade them: each one is then a state unique of its
- kind and indefinable, and it seems that we should have to re-live the
- life of the subject who experiences it if we wished to grasp it in
- its original complexity. Yet the artist aims at giving us a share in
- this emotion, so rich, so personal, so novel, and at enabling us to
- experience what he cannot make us understand. This he will bring about
- by choosing, among the outward signs of his emotions, those which our
- body is likely to imitate mechanically, though slightly, as soon as it
- perceives them, so as to transport us all at once into the indefinable
- psychological state which called them forth. Thus will be broken down
- the barrier interposed by time and space between his consciousness and
- ours: and the richer in ideas and the more pregnant with sensations
- and emotions is the feeling within whose limits the artist has brought
- us, the deeper and the higher shall we find the beauty thus expressed.
- The successive intensities of the aesthetic feeling thus correspond
- to changes of state occurring in us, and the degrees of depth to the
- larger or smaller number of elementary psychic phenomena which we dimly
- discern in the fundamental emotion.
- [Sidenote: The moral feelings. Pity. Its increasing intensity is a
- qualitative progress.]
- The moral feelings might be studied in the same way. Let us take pity
- as an example. It consists in the first place in putting oneself
- mentally in the place of others, in suffering their pain. But if it
- were nothing more, as some have maintained, it would inspire us with
- the idea of avoiding the wretched rather than helping them, for pain
- is naturally abhorrent to us. This feeling of horror may indeed be at
- the root of pity; but a new element soon comes in, the need of helping
- our fellow-men and of alleviating their suffering. Shall we say with La
- Rochefoucauld that this so-called sympathy is a calculation, "a shrewd
- insurance against evils to come"? Perhaps a dread of some future evil
- to ourselves does hold a place in our compassion for other people's
- evil. These however are but lower forms of pity. True pity consists not
- so much in fearing suffering as in desiring it. The desire is a faint
- one and we should hardly wish to see it realized; yet we form it in
- spite of ourselves, as if Nature were committing some great injustice
- and it were necessary to get rid of all suspicion of complicity
- with her. The essence of pity is thus a need for self-abasement, an
- aspiration downwards. This painful aspiration nevertheless has a
- charm about it, because it raises us in our own estimation and makes
- us feel superior to those sensuous goods from which our thought is
- temporarily detached. The increasing intensity of pity thus consists in
- a qualitative progress, in a transition from repugnance to fear, from
- fear to sympathy, and from sympathy itself to humility.
- [Sidenote: Conscious states connected with external causes or involving
- psychical symptoms.]
- We do not propose to carry this analysis any further. The psychic
- states whose intensity we have just defined are deep-seated states
- which do not seem to have any close relation to their external cause
- or to involve the perception of muscular contraction. But such states
- are rare. There is hardly any passion or desire, any joy or sorrow,
- which is not accompanied by physical symptoms; and, where these
- symptoms occur, they probably count for something in the estimate
- of intensities. As for the sensations properly so called, they are
- manifestly connected with their external cause, and though the
- intensity of the sensation cannot be defined by the magnitude of its
- cause, there undoubtedly exists some relation between these two terms.
- In some of its manifestations consciousness even appears to spread
- outwards, as if intensity were being developed into extensity, e.g. in
- the case of muscular effort. Let us face this last phenomenon at once:
- we shall thus be transported at a bound to the opposite extremity of
- the series of psychic phenomena.
- [Sidenote: Muscular effort seems at first sight to be quantitative.]
- If there is a phenomenon which seems to be presented immediately to
- consciousness under the form of quantity or at least of magnitude, it
- is undoubtedly muscular effort. We picture to our minds a psychic force
- imprisoned in the soul like the winds in the cave of Aeolus, and only
- waiting for an opportunity to burst forth: our will is supposed to
- watch over this force and from time to time to open a passage for it,
- regulating the outflow by the effect which it is desired to produce. If
- we consider the matter carefully, we shall see that this somewhat crude
- conception of effort plays a large part in our belief in intensive
- magnitudes. Muscular force, whose sphere of action is space and which
- manifests itself in phenomena admitting of measure, seems to us to
- have existed previous to its manifestations, but in smaller volume,
- and, so to speak, in a compressed state: hence we do not hesitate to
- reduce this volume more and more, and finally we believe that we can
- understand how a purely psychic state, which does not occupy space,
- can nevertheless possess magnitude. Science, too, tends to strengthen
- the illusion of common sense with regard to this point. Bain, for
- example, declares that "the sensibility accompanying muscular movement
- coincides with the _outgoing_ stream of nervous energy:"[2] it is thus
- just the emission of nervous force which consciousness perceives.
- Wundt also speaks of a sensation, central in its origin, accompanying
- the voluntary innervation of the muscles, and quotes the example
- of the paralytic "who has a very distinct sensation of the force
- which he employs in the effort to raise his leg, although it remains
- motionless."[3] Most of the authorities adhere to this opinion,
- which would be the unanimous view of positive science were it not
- that several years ago Professor William James drew the attention of
- physiologists to certain phenomena which had been but little remarked,
- although they were very remarkable.
- [Sidenote: The feeling of effort. We are conscious not of an
- expenditure of force but of the resulting muscular movement.]
- When a paralytic strives to raise his useless limb, he certainly does
- not execute this movement, but, with or without his will, he executes
- another. Some movement is carried out somewhere: otherwise there is
- no sensation of effort.[4] Vulpian had already called attention to
- the fact that if a man affected with hemiplegia is told to clench his
- paralysed fist, he unconsciously carries out this action with the
- fist which is not affected. Ferrier described a still more curious
- phenomenon.[5] Stretch out your arm while slightly bending your
- forefinger, as if you were going to press the trigger of a pistol;
- without moving the finger, without contracting any muscle of the hand,
- without producing any apparent movement, you will yet be able to feel
- that you are expending energy. On a closer examination, however,
- you will perceive that this sensation of effort coincides with the
- fixation of the muscles of your chest, that you keep your glottis
- closed and actively contract your respiratory muscles. As soon as
- respiration resumes its normal course the consciousness of effort
- vanishes, unless you really move your finger. These facts already
- seemed to show that we are conscious, not of an expenditure of force,
- but of the movement of the muscles which results from it. The new
- feature in Professor James's investigation is that he has verified
- the hypothesis in the case of examples which seemed to contradict it
- absolutely. Thus when the external rectus muscle of the right eye is
- paralysed, the patient tries in vain to turn his eye towards the right;
- yet objects seem to him to recede towards the right, and since the act
- of volition has produced no effect, it follows, said Helmholtz,[6]
- that he is conscious of the effort of volition. But, replies Professor
- James, no account has been taken of what goes on in the other eye. This
- remains covered during the experiments; nevertheless it moves and there
- is not much trouble in proving that it does. It is the movement of the
- left eye, perceived by consciousness, which produces the sensation of
- effort together with the impression that the objects perceived by the
- right eye are moving. These and similar observations lead Professor
- James to assert that the feeling of effort is centripetal and not
- centrifugal. We are not conscious of a force which we are supposed to
- launch upon our organism: our feeling of muscular energy at work "is
- a complex afferent sensation, which comes from contracted muscles,
- stretched ligaments, compressed joints, an immobilized chest, a closed
- glottis, a knit brow, clenched jaws," in a word, from all the points of
- the periphery where the effort causes an alteration.
- [Sidenote: Intensity of feeling of effort proportional to extent of our
- body affected.]
- It is not for us to take a side in the dispute. After all, the question
- with which we have to deal is not whether the feeling of effort comes
- from the centre or the periphery, but in what does our perception of
- its intensity exactly consist? Now, it is sufficient to observe oneself
- attentively to reach a conclusion on this point which Professor James
- has not formulated, but which seems to us quite in accord with the
- spirit of his teaching. We maintain that the more a given effort seems
- to us to increase, the greater is the number of muscles which contract
- in sympathy with it, and that the apparent consciousness of a greater
- intensity of effort at a given point of the organism is reducible,
- in reality, to the perception of a larger surface of the body being
- affected.
- [Sidenote: Our consciousness of an increase of muscular effort consists
- in the perception of (1) a greater number of peripheral sensations (2)
- a qualitative change in some of them.]
- Try, for example, to clench the fist with increasing force. You will
- have the impression of a sensation of effort entirely localized in
- your hand and running up a scale of magnitudes. In reality, what you
- experience in your hand remains the same, but the sensation which was
- at first localized there has affected your arm and ascended to the
- shoulder; finally, the other arm stiffens, both legs do the same, the
- respiration is checked; it is the whole body which is at work. But
- you fail to notice distinctly all these concomitant movements unless
- you are warned of them: till then you thought you were dealing with
- a single state of consciousness which changed in magnitude. When you
- press your lips more and more tightly against one another, you believe
- that you are experiencing in your lips one and the same sensation which
- is continually increasing in strength: here again further reflection
- will show you that this sensation remains identical, but that certain
- muscles of the face and the head and then of all the rest of the body
- have taken part in the operation. You felt this gradual encroachment,
- this increase of the surface affected, which is in truth a change of
- quantity; but, as your attention was concentrated on your closed lips,
- you localized the increase there and you made the psychic force there
- expended into a magnitude, although it possessed no extensity. Examine
- carefully somebody who is lifting heavier and heavier weights: the
- muscular contraction gradually spreads over his whole body. As for the
- special sensation which he experiences in the arm which is at work,
- it remains constant for a very long time and hardly changes except
- in quality, the weight becoming at a certain moment fatigue, and the
- fatigue pain. Yet the subject will imagine that he is conscious of a
- continual increase in the psychic force flowing into his arm. He will
- not recognize his mistake unless he is warned of it, so inclined is
- he to measure a given psychic state by the conscious movements which
- accompany it! From these facts and from many others of the same kind we
- believe we can deduce the following conclusion: our consciousness of an
- increase of muscular effort is reducible to the twofold perception of
- a greater number of peripheral sensations, and of a qualitative change
- occurring in some of them.
- [Sidenote: The same definition of intensity applies to superficial
- efforts, deep-seated feelings and states intermediate between the two.]
- We are thus led to define the intensity of a superficial effort in
- the same way as that of a cases there is a qualitative progress and
- an increasing complexity, indistinctly perceived. But consciousness,
- accustomed to think in terms of space and to translate its thoughts
- into words, will denote the feeling by a single word and will localize
- the effort at the exact point where it yields a useful result: it will
- then become aware of an effort which is always of the same nature and
- increases at the spot assigned to it, and a feeling which, retaining
- the same name, grows without changing its nature. Now, the same
- illusion of consciousness is likely to be met with again in the case
- of the states which are intermediate between superficial efforts and
- deep-seated feelings. A large number of psychic states are accompanied,
- in fact, by muscular contractions and peripheral sensations. Sometimes
- these superficial elements are co-ordinated by a purely speculative
- idea, sometimes by an idea of a practical order. In the first case
- there is intellectual effort or attention; in the second we have
- the emotions which may be called violent or acute: anger, terror,
- and certain varieties of joy, sorrow, passion and desire. Let us
- show briefly that the same definition of intensity applies to these
- intermediate states.
- [Sidenote: The intermediate states. Attention and its relation to
- muscular contraction.]
- Attention is not a purely physiological phenomenon, but we cannot
- deny that it is accompanied by movements. These movements are neither
- the cause nor the result of the phenomenon; they are part of it, they
- express it in terms of space, as Ribot has so remarkably proved.[7]
- Fechner had already reduced the effort of attention in a sense-organ
- to the muscular feeling "produced by putting in motion, by a sort of
- reflex action, the muscles which are correlated with the different
- sense organs." He had noticed the very distinct sensation of tension
- and contraction of the scalp, the pressure from without inwards over
- the whole skull, which we experience when we make a great effort to
- recall something. Ribot has studied more closely the movements which
- are characteristic of voluntary attention. "Attention contracts the
- frontal muscle: this muscle ... draws the eyebrow towards itself,
- raises it and causes transverse wrinkles on the forehead.... In
- extreme cases the mouth is opened wide. With children and with many
- adults eager attention gives rise to a protrusion of the lips, a kind
- of pout." Certainly, a purely psychic factor will always enter into
- voluntary attention, even if it be nothing more than the exclusion by
- the will of all ideas foreign to the one with which the subject wishes
- to occupy himself. But, once this exclusion is made, we believe that
- we are still conscious of a growing tension of soul, of an immaterial
- effort which increases. Analyse this impression and you will find
- nothing but the feeling of a muscular contraction which spreads over
- a wider surface or changes its nature, so that the tension becomes
- pressure, fatigue and pain.
- [Sidenote: The intensity of violent emotions as muscular tension.]
- Now, we do not see any essential difference between the effort of
- attention and what may be The intensity called the effort of psychic
- tension: acute desire, uncontrolled anger, passionate love, violent
- hatred. Each of these states may be reduced, we believe, to a system
- of muscular contractions co-ordinated by an idea; but in the case
- of attention, it is the more or less reflective idea of knowing; in
- the case of emotion, the unreflective idea of acting. The intensity
- of these violent emotions is thus likely to be nothing but the
- muscular tension which accompanies them. Darwin has given a remarkable
- description of the physiological symptoms of rage. "The action of the
- heart is much accelerated.... The face reddens or may turn deadly
- pale. The respiration is laboured, the chest heaves, and the dilated
- nostrils quiver. The whole body often trembles. The voice is affected.
- The teeth are clenched or ground together and the muscular system is
- commonly stimulated to violent, almost frantic action. The gestures ...
- represent more or less plainly the act of striking or fighting with
- an enemy."[8] We shall not go so far as to maintain, with Professor
- James,[9] that the emotion of rage is reducible to the sum of these
- organic sensations: there will always be an irreducible psychic element
- in anger, if this be only the idea of striking or fighting, of which
- Darwin speaks, and which gives a common direction to so many diverse
- movements. But, though this idea determines the direction of the
- emotional state and the accompanying movements, the growing intensity
- of the state itself is, we believe, nothing but the deeper and deeper
- disturbance of the organism, a disturbance which consciousness has no
- difficulty in measuring by the number and extent of the bodily surfaces
- concerned. It will be useless to assert that there is a restrained
- rage which is all the more intense. The reason is that, where emotion
- has free play, consciousness does not dwell on the details of the
- accompanying movements, but it does dwell upon them and is concentrated
- upon them when its object is to conceal them. Eliminate, in short,
- all trace of organic disturbance, all tendency towards muscular
- contraction, and all that will be left of anger will be the idea, or,
- if you still insist on making it an emotion, you will be unable to
- assign it any intensity.
- [Sidenote: Intensity and reflex movements. No essential difference
- between intensity of deep-seated feelings and that of violent emotions.]
- "Fear, when strong," says Herbert Spencer, "expresses itself in cries,
- in efforts to escape, in palpitations, in tremblings."[10] We go
- further, and maintain that these movements form part of the terror
- itself: by their means the terror becomes an emotion capable of passing
- through different degrees of intensity. Suppress them entirely, and
- the more or less intense state of terror will be succeeded by an idea
- of terror, the wholly intellectual representation of a danger which it
- concerns us to avoid. There are also high degrees of joy and sorrow,
- of desire, aversion and even shame, the height of which will be found
- to be nothing but the reflex movements begun by the organism and
- perceived by consciousness. "When lovers meet," says Darwin, "we know
- that their hearts beat quickly, their breathing is hurried and their
- faces flushed."[11] Aversion is marked by movements of repugnance
- which we repeat without noticing when we think of the object of our
- dislike. We blush and involuntarily clench the fingers when we feel
- shame, even if it be retrospective. The acuteness of these emotions is
- estimated by the number and nature of the peripheral sensations which
- accompany them. Little by little, and in proportion as the emotional
- state loses its violence and gains in depth, the peripheral sensations
- will give place to inner states; it will be no longer our outward
- movements but our ideas, our memories, our states of consciousness of
- every description, which will turn in larger or smaller numbers in a
- definite direction. There is, then, no essential difference from the
- point of view of intensity between the deep-seated feelings, of which
- we spoke at the beginning, and the acute or violent emotions which we
- have just passed in review. To say that love, hatred, desire, increase
- in violence is to assert that they are projected outwards, that they
- radiate to the surface, that peripheral sensations are substituted for
- inner states: but superficial or deep-seated, violent or reflective,
- the intensity of these feelings always consists in the multiplicity of
- simple states which consciousness dimly discerns in them.
- [Sidenote: Magnitude of sensations. Affective and representative
- sensations.]
- We have hitherto confined ourselves to feelings and efforts, complex
- states the intensity of which does not absolutely depend on an external
- cause. But sensations seem to us simple states: in what will their
- magnitude consist? The intensity of sensations varies with the
- external cause of which they are said to be the conscious equivalent:
- how shall we explain the presence of quantity in an effect which is
- inextensive, and in this case indivisible? To answer this question,
- we must first distinguish between the so-called affective and the
- representative sensations. There is no doubt that we pass gradually
- from the one to the other and that some affective element enters into
- the majority of our simple representations. But nothing prevents us
- from isolating this element and inquiring separately, in what does the
- intensity of an affective sensation, a pleasure or a pain, consist?
- [Sidenote: Affective sensations and organic disturbance.]
- Perhaps the difficulty of the latter problem is principally due to the
- fact that we are unwilling to see in the affective state anything but
- the conscious expression of an organic disturbance, the inward echo of
- an outward cause. We notice that a more intense sensation generally
- corresponds to a greater nervous disturbance; but inasmuch as these
- disturbances are unconscious as movements, since they come before
- consciousness in the guise of a sensation which has no resemblance at
- all to motion, we do not see how they could transmit to the sensation
- anything of their own magnitude. For there is nothing in common,
- we repeat, between superposable magnitudes such as, for example,
- vibration-amplitudes, and sensations which do not occupy space. If
- the more intense sensation seems to us to contain the less intense,
- if it assumes for us, like the physical impression itself, the form
- of a magnitude, the reason probably is that it retains something of
- the physical impression to which it corresponds. And it will retain
- nothing of it if it is merely the conscious translation of a movement
- of molecules; for, just because this movement is translated into the
- sensation of pleasure or pain, it remains unconscious as molecular
- movement.
- [Sidenote: Pleasure and pain as signs of the future reaction rather
- than psychic translations of the past stimulus.]
- But it might be asked whether pleasure and pain, instead of expressing
- only what has just occurred, or what is actually occurring, in the
- organism, as is usually believed, could not also point out what is
- going to, or what is tending to take place. It seems indeed somewhat
- improbable that nature, so profoundly utilitarian, should have here
- assigned to consciousness the merely scientific task of informing
- us about the past or the present, which no longer depend upon us.
- It must be noticed in addition that we rise by imperceptible stages
- from automatic to free movements, and that the latter differ from the
- former principally in introducing an affective sensation between the
- external action which occasions them and the volitional reaction which
- ensues. Indeed, all our actions might have been automatic, and we can
- surmise that there are many organized beings in whose case an external
- stimulus causes a definite reaction without calling up consciousness as
- an intermediate agent. If pleasure and pain make their appearance in
- certain privileged beings, it is probably to call forth a resistance to
- the automatic reaction which would have taken place: either sensation
- has nothing to do, or it is nascent freedom. But how would it enable us
- to resist the reaction which is in preparation if it did not acquaint
- us with the nature of the latter by some definite sign? And what can
- this sign be except the sketching, and, as it were, the prefiguring
- of the future automatic movements in the very midst of the sensation
- which is being experienced? The affective state must then correspond
- not merely to the physical disturbances, movements or phenomena which
- have taken place, but also, and especially, to those which are in
- preparation, those which are getting ready to be.
- [Sidenote: Intensity of affective sensations would then be our
- consciousness of the involuntary movements tending to follow the
- stimulus.]
- It is certainly not obvious at first sight how this hypothesis
- simplifies the problem. For we are trying to find what there can be
- in common, from the point of view of magnitude, between a physical
- phenomenon and a state of consciousness, and we seem to have
- merely turned the difficulty round by making the present state of
- consciousness a sign of the future reaction, rather than a psychic
- translation of the past stimulus. But the difference between the two
- hypotheses is considerable. For the molecular disturbances which were
- mentioned just now are necessarily unconscious, since no trace of the
- movements themselves can be actually perceived in the sensation which
- translates them. But the automatic movements which tend to follow
- the stimulus as its natural outcome are likely to be conscious as
- movements: or else the sensation itself, whose function is to invite us
- to choose between this automatic reaction and other possible movements,
- would be of no avail. The intensity of affective sensations might thus
- be nothing more than our consciousness of the involuntary movements
- which are being begun and outlined, so to speak, within these states,
- and which would have gone on in their own way if nature had made us
- automata instead of conscious beings.
- [Sidenote: Intensity of a pain estimated by extent of organism
- affected.]
- If such be the case, we shall not compare a pain of increasing
- intensity to a note which grows louder and louder, but rather to a
- symphony, in which an increasing number of instruments make themselves
- heard. Within the characteristic sensation, which gives the tone
- to all the others, consciousness distinguishes a larger or smaller
- number of sensations arising at different points of the periphery,
- muscular contractions, organic movements of every kind: the choir
- of these elementary psychic states voices the new demands of the
- organism, when confronted by a new situation. In other words, we
- estimate the intensity of a pain by the larger or smaller part of the
- organism which takes interest in it. Richet[12] has observed that the
- slighter the pain, the more precisely is it referred to a particular
- spot; if it becomes more intense, it is referred to the whole of the
- member affected. And he concludes by saying that "the pain spreads in
- proportion as it is more intense."[13] We should rather reverse the
- sentence, and define the intensity of the pain by the very number and
- extent of the parts of the body which sympathize with it and react, and
- whose reactions are perceived by consciousness. To convince ourselves
- of this, it will be enough to read the remarkable description of
- disgust given by the same author: "If the stimulus is slight there
- may be neither nausea nor vomiting.... If the stimulus is stronger,
- instead of being confined to the pneumo-gastric nerve, it spreads and
- affects almost the whole organic system. The face turns pale, the
- smooth muscles of the skin contract, the skin is covered with a cold
- perspiration, the heart stops beating: in a word there is a general
- organic disturbance following the stimulation of the medulla oblongata,
- and this disturbance is the supreme expression of disgust."[14] But is
- it nothing more than its expression? In what will the general sensation
- of disgust consist, if not in the sum of these elementary sensations?
- And what can we understand here by increasing intensity, if it is
- not the constantly increasing number of sensations which join in
- with the sensations already experienced? Darwin has drawn a striking
- picture of the reactions following a pain which becomes more and more
- acute. "Great pain urges all animals ... to make the most violent and
- diversified efforts to escape from the cause of suffering.... With men
- the mouth may be closely compressed, or more commonly the lips are
- retracted with the teeth clenched or ground together.... The eyes stare
- wildly ... or the brows are heavily contracted. Perspiration bathes
- the body.... The circulation and respiration are much affected."[15]
- Now, is it not by this very contraction of the muscles affected that
- we measure the intensity of a pain? Analyse your idea of any suffering
- which you call extreme: do you not mean that it is unbearable, that is
- to say, that it urges the organism to a thousand different actions in
- order to escape from it? I can picture to myself a nerve transmitting a
- pain which is independent of all automatic reaction; and I can equally
- understand that stronger or weaker stimulations influence this nerve
- differently. But I do not see how these differences of sensation would
- be interpreted by our consciousness as differences of quantity unless
- we connected them with the reactions which usually accompany them, and
- which are more or less extended and more or less important. Without
- these subsequent reactions, the intensity of the pain would be a
- quality, and not a magnitude.
- [Sidenote: Pleasures compared by bodily inclination.]
- We have hardly any other means of comparing several pleasures with
- one another. What do we mean by a greater pleasure except a pleasure
- that is preferred? And what can our preference be, except a certain
- disposition of our organs, the effect of which is that, when two
- pleasures are offered simultaneously to our mind, our body inclines
- towards one of them? Analyse this inclination itself and you will find
- a great many little movements which begin and become perceptible in the
- organs concerned, and even in the rest of the body, as if the organism
- were coming forth to meet the pleasure as soon as it is pictured. When
- we define inclination as a movement, we are not using a metaphor.
- When confronted by several pleasures pictured by our mind, our body
- turns towards one of them spontaneously, as though by a reflex action.
- It rests with us to check it, but the attraction of the pleasure is
- nothing but this movement that is begun, and the very keenness of the
- pleasure, while we enjoy it, is merely the inertia of the organism,
- which is immersed in it and rejects every other sensation. Without this
- _vis inertiae_ of which we become conscious by the very resistance
- which we offer to anything that might distract us, pleasure would be
- a state, but no longer a magnitude. In the moral as in the physical
- world, attraction serves to define movement rather than to produce it.
- [Sidenote: The intensity of representative sensations. Many also
- affective and intensity is measured by reaction called forth. In others
- a new element enters.]
- We have studied the affective sensations separately, but we must
- now notice that many representative sensations possess an affective
- character, and thus call forth a reaction on our part which we take
- into account in estimating their intensity. A considerable increase
- of light is represented for us by a characteristic sensation which
- is not yet pain, but which is analogous to dazzling. In proportion
- as the amplitude of sound-vibrations increases, our head and then
- our body seem to us to vibrate or to receive a shock. Certain
- representative sensations, those of taste, smell and temperature, have
- a fixed character of pleasantness or unpleasantness. Between flavours
- which are more or less bitter you will hardly distinguish anything
- but differences of quality; they are like different shades of one
- and the same colour. But these differences of quality are at once
- interpreted as differences of quantity, because of their affective
- character and the more or less pronounced movements of reaction,
- pleasure or repugnance, which they suggest to us. Besides, even when
- the sensation remains purely representative, its external cause cannot
- exceed a certain degree of strength or weakness without inciting us
- to movements which enable us to measure it. Sometimes indeed we have
- to make an effort to perceive this sensation, as if it were trying
- to escape notice; sometimes on the other hand it obsesses us, forces
- itself upon us and engrosses us to such an extent that we make every
- effort to escape from it and to remain ourselves. In the former case
- the sensation is said to be of slight intensity, and in the latter
- case very intense. Thus, in order to perceive a distant sound, to
- distinguish what we call a faint smell or a dim light, we strain all
- our faculties, we "pay attention." And it is just because the smell
- and the light thus require to be reinforced by our efforts that they
- seem to us feeble. And, inversely, we recognize a sensation of extreme
- intensity by the irresistible reflex movements to which it incites
- us, or by the powerlessness with which it affects us. When a cannon
- is fired off close to our ears or a dazzling light suddenly flares
- up, we lose for an instant the consciousness of our personality; this
- state may even last some time in the case of a very nervous subject.
- It must be added that, even within the range of the so-called medium
- intensities, when we are dealing on even terms with a representative
- sensation, we often estimate its importance by comparing it with
- another which it drives away, or by taking account of the persistence
- with which it returns. Thus the ticking of a watch seems louder at
- night because it easily monopolizes a consciousness almost empty of
- sensations and ideas. Foreigners talking to one another in a language
- which we do not understand seem to us to speak very loudly, because
- their words no longer call up any ideas in our mind, and thus break
- in upon a kind of intellectual silence and monopolize our attention
- like the ticking of a watch at night. With these so-called medium
- sensations, however, we approach a series of psychic states, the
- intensity of which is likely to possess a new meaning. For, in most
- cases, the organism hardly reacts at all, at least in a way that can
- be perceived; and yet we still make a magnitude out of the pitch of a
- sound, the intensity of a light, the saturation of a colour. Doubtless,
- a closer observation of what takes place in the whole of the organism
- when we hear such and such a note or perceive such and such a colour
- has more than one surprise in store for us. Has not C. Féré shown that
- every sensation is accompanied by an increase in muscular force which
- can be measured by the dynamometer?[16] But of an increase of this
- kind there is hardly any consciousness at all, and if we reflect on
- the precision with which we distinguish sounds and colours, nay, even
- weights and temperatures, we shall easily guess that some new element
- must come into play in our estimate of them.
- [Sidenote: The purely representative sensations are measured by
- external causes.]
- Now, the nature of this element is easy to determine. For, in
- proportion as a sensation loses its affective character and becomes
- representative, the reactions which it called forth on our part
- tend to disappear, but at the same time we perceive the external
- object which is its cause, or if we do not now perceive it, we have
- perceived it, and we think of it. Now, this cause is extensive and
- therefore measurable: a constant experience, which began with the first
- glimmerings of consciousness and which continues throughout the whole
- of our life, shows us a definite shade of sensation corresponding to a
- definite amount of stimulation. We thus associate the idea of a certain
- quantity of cause with a certain quality of effect; and finally, as
- happens in the case of every acquired perception, we transfer the idea
- into the sensation, the quantity of the cause into the quality of the
- effect. At this very moment the intensity, which was nothing but a
- certain shade or quality of the sensation, becomes a magnitude. We
- shall easily understand this process if, for example, we hold a pin in
- our right hand and prick our left hand more and more deeply. At first
- we shall feel as it were a tickling, then a touch which is succeeded by
- a prick, then a pain localized at a point, and finally the spreading
- of this pain over the surrounding zone. And the more we reflect on
- it, the more clearly shall we see that we are here dealing with so
- many qualitatively distinct sensations, so many varieties of a single
- species. But yet we spoke at first of one and the same sensation which
- spread further and further, of one prick which increased in intensity.
- The reason is that, without noticing it, we localized in the sensation
- of the left hand, which is pricked, the progressive effort of the right
- hand, which pricks. We thus introduced the cause into the effect, and
- unconsciously interpreted quality as quantity, intensity as magnitude.
- Now, it is easy to see that the intensity of every representative
- sensation ought to be understood in the same way.
- [Sidenote: The sensations of sound. Intensity measured by effort
- necessary to produce a similar sound.]
- The sensations of sound display well marked degrees of intensity.
- We have already spoken of the necessity of taking into account the
- affective character of these sensations, the shock received by the
- whole of the organism. We have shown that a very intense sound is one
- which engrosses our attention, which supplants all the others. But
- take away the shock, the well-marked vibration, which you sometimes
- feel in your head or even throughout your body: take away the clash
- which takes place between sounds heard simultaneously: what will be
- left except an indefinable quality of the sound which is heard? But
- this quality is immediately interpreted as quantity because you have
- obtained it yourself a thousand times, e.g. by striking some object
- and thus expending a definite quantity of effort. You know, too, how
- far you would have to raise your voice to produce a similar sound,
- and the idea of this effort immediately comes into your mind when you
- transform the intensity of the sound into a magnitude. Wundt[17] has
- drawn attention to the quite special connexions of vocal and auditory
- nervous filaments which are met with in the human brain. And has it not
- been said that to hear is to speak to oneself? Some neuropaths cannot
- be present at a conversation without moving their lips; this is only an
- exaggeration of what takes place in the case of every one of us. How
- will the expressive or rather suggestive power of music be explained,
- if not by admitting that we repeat to ourselves the sounds heard, so
- as to carry ourselves back into the psychic state out of which they
- emerged, an original state, which nothing will express, but which
- something may suggest, viz., the very motion and attitude which the
- sound imparts to our body?
- [Sidenote: Intensity and pitch. The part played by muscular effort.]
- Thus, when we speak of the intensity of a sound of medium force as a
- magnitude, we allude principally to the greater or less effort which we
- should have ourselves to expend in order to summon, by our own effort,
- the same auditory sensation.
- Now, besides the intensity, we distinguish another characteristic
- property of the sound, its pitch. Are the differences in pitch, such
- as our ear perceives, quantitative differences? I grant that a sharper
- sound calls up the picture of a higher position in space. But does it
- follow from this that the notes of the scale, as auditory sensations,
- differ otherwise than in quality? Forget what you have learnt from
- physics, examine carefully your idea of a higher or lower note, and see
- whether you do not think simply of the greater or less effort which
- the tensor muscle of your vocal chords has to make in order to produce
- the note? As the effort by which your voice passes from one note to
- another is discontinuous, you picture to yourself these successive
- notes as points in space, to be reached by a series of sudden jumps,
- in each of which you cross an empty separating interval: this is why
- you establish intervals between the notes of the scale. Now, why is
- the line along which we dispose them vertical rather than horizontal,
- and why do we say that the sound ascends in some cases and descends in
- others? It must be remembered that the high notes seem to us to produce
- some sort of resonance in the head and the deep notes in the thorax:
- this perception, whether real or illusory, has undoubtedly had some
- effect in making us reckon the intervals vertically. But we must also
- notice that the greater the tension of the vocal chords in the chest
- voice, the greater is the surface of the body affected, if the singer
- is inexperienced; this is just the reason why the effort is felt by
- him as more intense. And as he breathes out the air upwards, he will
- attribute the same direction to the sound produced by the current of
- air; hence the sympathy of a larger part of the body with the vocal
- muscles will be represented by a movement upwards. We shall thus say
- that the note is higher because the body makes an effort as though to
- reach an object which is more elevated in space. In this way it became
- customary to assign a certain height to each note of the scale, and as
- soon as the physicist was able to define it by the number of vibrations
- in a given time to which it corresponds, we no longer hesitated to
- declare that our ear perceived differences of quantity directly. But
- the sound would remain a pure quality if we did not bring in the
- muscular effort which produces it or the vibrations which explain it.
- [Sidenote: The sensations of heat and cold. These soon become affective
- and are measured by reactions called forth.]
- The experiments of Blix, Goldscheider and Donaldson[18] have shown
- that the points on the surface of the body which feel cold are not the
- same as those which feel heat. Physiology is thus disposed to set up a
- distinction of nature, and not merely of degree, between the sensations
- of heat and cold. But psychological observation goes further, for
- close attention can easily discover specific differences between the
- different sensations of heat, as also between the sensations of
- cold. A more intense heat is really another kind of heat. We call it
- more intense because we have experienced this same change a thousand
- times when we approached nearer and nearer a source of heat, or when a
- growing surface of our body was affected by it. Besides, the sensations
- of heat and cold very quickly become affective and incite us to more or
- less marked reactions by which we measure their external cause: hence,
- we are inclined to set up similar quantitative differences among the
- sensations which correspond to lower intensities of the cause. But I
- shall not insist any further; every one must question himself carefully
- on this point, after making a clean sweep of everything which his
- past experience has taught him about the cause of his sensations and
- coming face to face with the sensations themselves. The result of this
- examination is likely to be as follows: it will be perceived that the
- magnitude of a representative sensation depends on the cause having
- been put into the effect, while the intensity of the affective element
- depends on the more or less important reactions which prolong the
- external stimulations and find their way into the sensation itself.
- [Sidenote: The sensation of pressure and weight measured by extent of
- organism affected.]
- The same thing will be experienced in the case of pressure and even
- weight. When you say that a pressure on your hand becomes stronger,
- see whether you do not mean that there first was a contact, then a
- pressure, afterwards a pain, and that this pain itself, after having
- gone through a series of qualitative changes, has spread further and
- further over the surrounding region. Look again and see whether you do
- not bring in the more and more intense, i.e. more and more extended,
- effort of resistance which you oppose to the external pressure. When
- the psychophysicist lifts a heavier weight, he experiences, he says,
- an increase of sensation. Examine whether this increase of sensation
- ought not rather to be called a sensation of increase. The whole
- question is centred in this, for in the first case the sensation would
- be a quantity like its external cause, whilst in the second it would
- be a quality which had become representative of the magnitude of
- its cause. The distinction between the heavy and the light may seem
- to be as old-fashioned and as childish as that between the hot and
- the cold. But the very childishness of this distinction makes it a
- psychological reality. And not only do the heavy and the light impress
- our consciousness as generically different, but the various degrees
- of lightness and heaviness are so many species of these two genera.
- It must be added that the difference of quality is here translated
- spontaneously into a difference of quantity, because of the more or
- less extended effort which our body makes in order to lift a given
- weight. Of this you will soon become aware if you are asked to lift a
- basket which, you are told, is full of scrap-iron, whilst in fact there
- is nothing in it. You will think you are losing your balance when you
- catch hold of it, as though distant muscles had interested themselves
- beforehand in the operation and experienced a sudden disappointment.
- It is chiefly by the number and nature of these sympathetic efforts,
- which take place at different points of the organism, that you measure
- the sensation of weight at a given point; and this sensation would
- be nothing more than a quality if you did not thus introduce into
- it the idea of a magnitude. What strengthens the illusion on this
- point is that we have become accustomed to believe in the immediate
- perception of a homogeneous movement in a homogeneous space. When I
- lift a light weight with my arm, all the rest of my body remaining
- motionless, I experience a series of muscular sensations each of which
- has its "local sign," its peculiar shade: it is this series which
- my consciousness interprets as a continuous movement in space. If I
- afterwards lift a heavier weight to the same height with the same
- speed, I pass through a new series of muscular sensations, each of
- which differs from the corresponding term of the preceding series. Of
- this I could easily convince myself by examining them closely. But
- as I interpret this new series also as a continuous movement, and as
- this movement has the same direction, the same duration and the same
- velocity as the preceding, my consciousness feels itself bound to
- localize the difference between the second series of sensations and
- the first elsewhere than in the movement itself. It thus materializes
- this difference at the extremity of the arm which moves; it persuades
- itself that the sensation of movement has been identical in both cases,
- while the sensation of weight differed in magnitude. But movement and
- weight are but distinctions of the reflective consciousness: what is
- present to consciousness immediately is the sensation of, so to speak,
- a heavy movement, and this sensation itself can be resolved by analysis
- into a series of muscular sensations, each of which represents by its
- shade its place of origin and by its colour the magnitude of the weight
- lifted.
- [Sidenote: The sensation of light. Qualitative changes of colour
- interpreted as quantitative changes in intensity of luminous source.]
- Shall we call the intensity of light a quantity, or shall we treat
- it as a quality? It has not perhaps been sufficiently noticed what a
- large number of different factors co-operate in daily life in giving
- us information about the nature of the luminous source. We know from
- long experience that, when we have a difficulty in distinguishing the
- outlines and details of objects, the light is at a distance or on
- the point of going out. Experience has taught us that the affective
- sensation or nascent dazzling that we experience in certain cases must
- be attributed to a higher intensity of the cause. Any increase or
- diminution in the number of luminous sources alters the way in which
- the sharp lines of bodies stand out and also the shadows which they
- project. Still more important are the changes of hue which coloured
- surfaces, and even the pure colours of the spectrum, undergo under
- the influence of a brighter or dimmer light. As the luminous source
- is brought nearer, violet takes a bluish tinge, green tends to become
- a whitish yellow, and red a brilliant yellow. Inversely, when the
- light is moved away, ultramarine passes into violet and yellow into
- green; finally, red, green and violet tend to become a whitish yellow.
- Physicists have remarked these changes of hue for some time;[19] but
- what is still more remarkable is that the majority of men do not
- perceive them, unless they pay attention to them or are warned of
- them. Having made up our mind, once for all, to interpret changes
- of quality as changes of quantity, we begin by asserting that every
- object has its own peculiar colour, definite and invariable. And when
- the hue of objects tends to become yellow or blue, instead of saying
- that we see their colour change under the influence of an increase or
- diminution of light, we assert that the colour remains the same but
- that our sensation of luminous intensity increases or diminishes. We
- thus substitute once more, for the qualitative impression received
- by our consciousness, the quantitative interpretation given by our
- understanding. Helmholtz has described a case of interpretation of
- the same kind, but still more complicated: "If we form white with
- two colours of the spectrum, and if we increase or diminish the
- intensities of the two coloured lights in the same ratio, so that the
- proportions of the combination remain the same, the resultant colour
- remains the same although the relative intensity of the sensations
- undergoes a marked change.... This depends on the fact that the light
- of the sun, which we consider as the normal white light during the
- day, itself undergoes similar modifications of shade when the luminous
- intensity varies."[20]
- [Sidenote: Does experiment prove that we can measure directly our
- sensations of light?]
- But yet, if we often judge of variations in the luminous source by
- the relative changes of hue of the objects which surround us, this is
- no longer the case in simple instances where a single object, e.g.
- a white surface, passes successively through different degrees of
- luminosity. We are bound to insist particularly on this last point.
- For the physicist speaks of degrees of luminous intensity as of real
- quantities: and, in fact, he measures them by the photometer. The
- psychophysicist goes still further: he maintains that our eye itself
- estimates the intensities of light. Experiments have been attempted,
- at first by Delbœuf,[21] and afterwards by Lehmann and Neiglick,[22]
- with the view of constructing a psychophysical formula from the direct
- measurement of our luminous sensations. Of these experiments we shall
- not dispute the result, nor shall we deny the value of photometric
- processes; but we must see how we have to interpret them.
- [Sidenote: Photometric experiments. We perceive different shades and
- afterwards interpret them as decreasing intensities of white light.]
- Look closely at a sheet of paper lighted e.g. by four candles, and put
- out in succession one, two, Photometric three of them. You say that
- the surface remains white and that its brightness diminishes. But you
- are aware that one candle has just been put out; or, if you do not
- know it, you have often observed a similar change in the appearance of
- a white surface when the illumination was diminished. Put aside what
- you remember of your past experiences and what you are accustomed to
- say of the present ones; you will find that what you really perceive
- is not a diminished illumination of the white surface, it is a _layer
- of shadow_ passing over this surface at the moment the candle is
- extinguished. This shadow is a reality to your consciousness, like
- the light itself. If you call the first surface in all its brilliancy
- white, you will have to give another name to what you now see, for it
- is a different thing: it is, if we may say so, a new shade of white.
- We have grown accustomed, through the combined influence of our past
- experience and of physical theories, to regard black as the absence,
- or at least as the minimum, of luminous sensation, and the successive
- shades of grey as decreasing intensities of white light. But, in
- point of fact, black has just as much reality for our consciousness
- as white, and the decreasing intensities of white light illuminating
- a given surface would appear to an unprejudiced consciousness as so
- many different shades, not unlike the various colours of the spectrum.
- This is the reason why the change in the sensation is not continuous,
- as it is in the external cause, and why the light can increase or
- decrease for a certain period without producing any apparent change
- in the illumination of our white surface: the illumination will not
- appear to change until the increase or decrease of the external light
- is sufficient to produce a new quality. The variations in brightness
- of a given colour--the affective sensations of which we have spoken
- above being left aside--would thus be nothing but qualitative changes,
- were it not our custom to transfer the cause to the effect and to
- replace our immediate impressions by what we learn from experience
- and science. The same thing might be said of degrees of saturation.
- Indeed, if the different intensities of a colour correspond to so many
- different shades existing between this colour and black, the degrees
- of saturation are like shades intermediate between this same colour
- and pure white. Every colour, we might say, can be regarded under two
- aspects, from the point of view of black and from the point of view of
- white. And black is then to intensity what white is to saturation.
- [Sidenote: In photometric experiments the physicist compares, not
- sensations, but physical effects.]
- The meaning of the photometric experiments will now be understood. A
- candle placed at a certain distance from a sheet of paper illuminates
- it in a certain way: you double the distance and find that four candles
- are required to produce the same effects, sensation. From this you
- conclude that if you had doubled the distance without increasing the
- intensity of the luminous source, the resultant illumination would
- have been only one-fourth as bright. But it is quite obvious that you
- are here dealing with the physical and not the psychological effect.
- For it cannot be said that you have compared two sensations with one
- another: you have made use of a single sensation in order to compare
- two different luminous sources with each other, the second four
- times as strong as the first but twice as far off. In a word, the
- physicist never brings in sensations which are twice or three times
- as great as others, but only identical sensations, destined to serve
- as intermediaries between two physical quantities which can then be
- equated with one another. The sensation of light here plays the part
- of the auxiliary unknown quantity which the mathematician introduces
- into his calculations, and which is not intended to appear in the final
- result.
- [Sidenote: The psychophysicist claims to compare and measure
- sensations. Delbœuf's experiments.]
- But the object of the psychophysicist is entirely different: it is the
- sensation of light itself which he studies, and claims to measure.
- Sometimes he will proceed to integrate infinitely small differences,
- after the method of Fechner; sometimes he will compare one sensation
- directly with another. The latter method, due to Plateau and Delbœuf,
- differs far less than has hitherto been believed from Fechner's: but,
- as it bears more especially on the luminous sensations, we shall deal
- with it first. Delbœuf places an observer in front of three concentric
- rings which vary in brightness. By an ingenious arrangement he can
- cause each of these rings to pass through all the shades intermediate
- between white and black. Let us suppose that two hues of grey are
- simultaneously produced on two of the rings and kept unchanged; let
- us call them A and B. Delbœuf alters the brightness, C, of the third
- ring, and asks the observer to tell him whether, at a certain moment,
- the grey, B, appears to him equally distant from the other two. A
- moment comes, in fact, when the observer states that the contrast A B
- is equal to the contrast B C, so that, according to Delbœuf, a scale of
- luminous intensities could be constructed on which we might pass from
- each sensation to the following one by equal sensible contrasts: our
- sensations would thus be measured by one another. I shall not follow
- Delbœuf into the conclusions which he has drawn from these remarkable
- experiments: the essential question, the only question, as it seems
- to me, is whether a contrast A B, formed of the elements A and B, is
- really equal to a contrast B C, which is differently composed. As
- soon as it is proved that two sensations can be equal without being
- identical, psychophysics will be established. But it is this equality
- which seems to me open to question: it is easy to explain, in fact,
- how a sensation of luminous intensity can be said to be at an equal
- distance from two others.
- [Sidenote: In what cases differences of colour might be interpreted as
- differences of magnitude.]
- Let us assume for a moment that from our birth onwards the growing
- intensity of a luminous source had always called up in our
- consciousness, one after the other, the different colours of the
- spectrum. There is no doubt that these colours would then appear to us
- as so many notes of a gamut, as higher or lower degrees in a scale,
- in a word, as magnitudes. Moreover it would be easy for us to assign
- each of them its place in the series. For although the extensive
- cause varies continuously, the changes in the sensation of colour
- are discontinuous, passing from one shade to another shade. However
- numerous, then, may be the shades intermediate between the two colours,
- A and B, it will always be possible to count them in thought, at least
- roughly, and ascertain whether this number is almost equal to that
- of the shades which separate B from another colour C. In the latter
- case it will be said that B is equally distant from A and C, that the
- contrast is the same on one side as on the other. But this will always
- be merely a convenient interpretation: for although the number of
- intermediate shades may be equal on both sides, although we may pass
- from one to the other by sudden leaps, we do not know whether these
- leaps are magnitudes, still less whether they are _equal_ magnitudes:
- above all it would be necessary to show that the intermediaries which
- have helped us throughout our measurement could be found again inside
- the object which we have measured. If not, it is only by a metaphor
- that a sensation can be said to be an equal distance from two others.
- [Sidenote: This is just the case with differences of intensity in
- sensations of light. Delbœuf's underlying postulate.]
- Now, if the views which we have before enumerated with regard to
- luminous intensities are accepted, it will be recognized that the
- different hues of grey which Delbœuf displays to us are strictly
- analogous, for our consciousness, to colours, and that if we declare
- that a grey tint is equidistant from two other grey tints, it is in
- the same sense in which it might be said that orange, for example, is
- at an equal distance from green and red. But there is this difference,
- that in all our past experience the succession of grey tints has
- been produced in connexion with a progressive increase or decrease
- in illumination. Hence we do for the differences of brightness what
- we do not think of doing for the differences of colour: we promote
- the changes of quality into variations of magnitude. Indeed, there
- is no difficulty here about the measuring, because the successive
- shades of grey produced by a continuous decrease of illumination
- are discontinuous, as being qualities, and because we can count
- approximately the principal intermediate shades which separate any
- two kinds of grey. The contrast A B will thus be declared equal to
- the contrast B C when our imagination, aided by our memory, inserts
- between A and B the same number of intermediate shades as between B
- and C. It is needless to say that this will necessarily be a very
- rough estimate. We may anticipate that it will vary considerably with
- different persons. Above all it is to be expected that the person
- will show more hesitation and that the estimates of different persons
- will differ more widely in proportion as the difference in brightness
- between the rings A and B is increased, for a more and more laborious
- effort will be required to estimate the number of intermediate hues.
- This is exactly what happens, as we shall easily perceive by glancing
- at the two tables drawn up by Delbœuf.[23] In proportion as he
- increases the difference in brightness between the exterior ring and
- the middle ring, the difference between the numbers on which one and
- the same observer or different observers successively fix increases
- almost continuously from 3 degrees to 94, from 5 to 73, from 10 to 25,
- from 7 to 40. But let us leave these divergences on one side: let us
- assume that the observers are always consistent and always agree with
- one another; will it then be established that the contrasts A B and B
- C are equal? It would first be necessary to prove that two successive
- elementary contrasts are equal quantities, whilst, in fact, we only
- know that they are successive. It would then be necessary to prove that
- inside a given tint of grey we perceive the less intense shades which
- our imagination has run through in order to estimate the objective
- intensity of the source of light. In a word, Delbœuf's psychophysics
- assumes a theoretical postulate of the greatest importance, which
- is disguised under the cloak of an experimental result, and which
- we should formulate as follows: "When the objective quantity of
- light is continuously increased, the differences between the hues of
- grey successively obtained, each of which represents the smallest
- perceptible increase of physical stimulation, are quantities equal to
- one another. And besides, any one of the sensations obtained can be
- equated with the sum of the differences which separate from one another
- all previous sensations, going from zero upwards." Now, this is just
- the postulate of Fechner's psychophysics, which we are going to examine.
- [Sidenote: Fechner's psychophysics. Weber's Law.]
- Fechner took as his starting-point a law discovered by Weber, according
- to which, given a certain stimulus which calls forth a certain
- sensation, the amount by which the stimulus must be increased for
- consciousness to become aware of any change bears a fixed relation
- to the original stimulus. Thus, if we denote by Ε the stimulus which
- corresponds to the sensation S, and by ΔΕ the amount by which the
- original stimulus must be increased in order that a sensation of
- difference may be produced, we shall have ΔΕ/E = const. This formula
- has been much modified by the disciples of Fechner, and we prefer to
- take no part in the discussion; it is for experiment to decide between
- the relation established by Weber and its substitutes. Nor shall we
- raise any difficulty about granting the probable existence of a law of
- this nature. It is here really a question not of measuring a sensation
- but only of determining the exact moment at which an increase of
- stimulus produces a change in it. Now, if a definite amount of stimulus
- produces a definite shade of sensation, it is obvious that the minimum
- amount of stimulus required to produce a change in this shade is also
- definite; and since it is not constant, it must be a function of the
- original stimulus. But how are we to pass from a relation between the
- stimulus and its minimum increase to an equation which connects the
- **"amount of sensation" with the corresponding stimulus? The whole of
- psychophysics is involved in this transition, which is therefore worthy
- of our closest consideration.
- [Sidenote: The underlying assumptions and the process by which
- Fechner's Law is reached.]
- We shall distinguish several different artifices in the process of
- transition from Weber's experiments, or from any other series of
- similar observations, to a psychophysical law like Fechner's. It is
- first of all agreed to consider our consciousness of an increase of
- stimulus as an increase of the sensation S: this is therefore called
- S. It is then asserted that all the sensations ΔS, which correspond
- to the smallest perceptible increase of stimulus, are equal to one
- another. They are therefore treated as quantities, and while, on the
- one hand, these quantities are supposed to be always equal, and, on
- the other, experiment has given a certain relation ΔΕ = ∫(E) between
- the stimulus Ε and its minimum increase, the constancy of ΔS is
- expressed by writing ΔS = C ΔE/∫(E), C being a constant quantity.
- Finally it is agreed to replace the very small differences ΔS and ΔΕ
- by the infinitely small differences _d_S and _d_E, whence an equation
- which is, this time, a differential one: _d_S = C _d_E/∫(E). We shall
- now simply have to integrate on both sides to obtain the desired
- relation[24]: S=C ∬_d_E/∫(E). And the transition will thus be made from
- a proved law, which only concerned the _occurrence_ of a sensation, to
- an unprovable law which gives its _measure._
- Without entering upon any thorough discussion of this ingenious
- operation, let us show in a few words how Fechner has grasped the real
- difficulty of the problem, how he has tried to overcome it, and where,
- as it seems to us, the flaw in his reasoning lies.
- [Sidenote: Can two sensations be equal without being identical?]
- Fechner realized that measurement could not be introduced into
- psychology without first defining what is meant by the equality and
- addition of two simple states, e.g. two sensations. But, unless they
- are identical, we do not at first see how two sensations can be equal.
- Undoubtedly in the physical world equality is not synonymous with
- identity. But the reason is that every phenomenon, every object, is
- there presented under two aspects, the one qualitative and the other
- extensive: nothing prevents us from putting the first one aside,
- and then there remains nothing but terms which can be directly or
- indirectly superposed on one another and consequently seen to be
- identical. Now, this qualitative element, which we begin by eliminating
- from external objects in order to measure them, is the very thing which
- psychophysics retains and claims to measure. And it is no use trying to
- measure this quality Q by some physical quantity Q' which lies beneath
- it: for it would be necessary to have previously shown that Q is a
- function of Q', and this would not be possible unless the quality Q had
- first been measured with some fraction of itself. Thus nothing prevents
- us from measuring the sensation of heat by the degree of temperature;
- but this is only a convention, and the whole point of psychophysics
- lies in rejecting this convention and seeking how the sensation of
- heat varies when you change the temperature. In a word, it seems,
- on the one hand, that two different sensations cannot be said to be
- equal unless some identical residuum remains after the elimination of
- their qualitative difference; but, on the other hand, this qualitative
- difference being all that we perceive, it does not appear what could
- remain once it was eliminated.
- [Sidenote: Fechner's method of _minimum_ differences.]
- The novel feature in Fechner's treatment is that he did not consider
- this difficulty insurmountable. Taking advantage of the fact that
- sensation varies by sudden jumps while the stimulus increases
- continuously, he did not hesitate to call these differences of
- sensation by the same name: they are all, he says, _minimum_
- differences, since each corresponds to the smallest perceptible
- increase in the external stimulus. Therefore you can set aside the
- specific shade or quality of these successive differences; a common
- residuum will remain in virtue of which they will be seen to be in a
- manner identical: they all have the common character of being _minima._
- Such will be the definition of equality which we were seeking. Now,
- the definition of addition will follow naturally. For if we treat
- as a quantity the difference perceived by consciousness between two
- sensations which succeed one another in the course of a continuous
- increase of stimulus, if we call the first sensation S, and the
- second S + ΔS, we shall have to consider every sensation S as a sum,
- obtained by the addition of the minimum differences through which
- we pass before reaching it. The only remaining step will then be to
- utilize this twofold definition in order to establish, first of all,
- a relation between the differences ΔS and ΔΕ, and then, through the
- substitution of the differentials, between the two variables. True, the
- mathematicians may here lodge a protest against the substitution of
- differential for difference; the psychologists may ask, too, whether
- the quantity ΔS, instead of being constant, does not vary as the
- sensation S itself;[25] finally, taking the psychophysical law for
- granted, we may all debate about its real meaning. But, by the mere
- fact that ΔS is regarded as a quantity and S as a sum, the fundamental
- postulate of the whole process is accepted.
- [Sidenote: Break-down of the assumption that the sensation is a sum,
- and the minimum differences quantities.]
- Now it is just this postulate which seems to us open to question, even
- if it can be understood. Assume that I experience a sensation S, and
- that, increasing the stimulus continuously, I perceive this increase
- after a certain time. I am now notified of the increase of the cause:
- but why should I call this notification an arithmetical difference? No
- doubt the notification consists in the fact that the original state S
- has changed: it has become S'; but the transition from S to S' could
- only be called an arithmetical difference if I were conscious, so to
- speak, of an interval between S and S', and if my sensation were felt
- to rise from S to S' by the addition of something. By giving this
- transition a name, by calling it ΔS,** you make it first a reality and
- then a quantity. Now, not only are you unable to explain in what sense
- this transition is a quantity, but reflection will show you that it is
- not even a reality; the only realities are the states S and S' through
- which I pass. No doubt, if S and S' were numbers, I could assert the
- reality of the difference S'--S even though S and S' alone were given;
- the reason is that the number S'--S, which is a certain sum of units,
- will then represent just the successive moments of the addition by
- which we pass from S to S'. But if S and S' are simple states, in what
- will the _interval_ which separates them consist? And what, then, can
- the transition from the first state to the second be, if not a mere act
- of your thought, which, arbitrarily and for the sake of the argument,
- assimilates a succession of two states to a differentiation of two
- magnitudes?
- [Sidenote: We can speak of "arithmetical difference" only in a
- conventional sense.]
- Either you keep to what consciousness presents to you or you have
- recourse to a conventional mode of representation. In the first case
- you will find a difference between S and S' like that between the
- shades sense. Of rainbow, and not at all an interval of magnitude.
- In the second case you may introduce the symbol ΔS if you like,
- but it is only in a conventional sense that you will speak here of
- an arithmetical difference, and in a conventional sense, also, that
- you will assimilate a sensation to a sum. The most acute of Fechner's
- critics, Jules Tannery, has made the latter point perfectly clear. "It
- will be said, for example, that a sensation of 50 degrees is expressed
- by the number of differential sensations which would succeed one
- another from the point where sensation is absent up to the sensation
- of 50 degrees.... I do not see that this is anything but a definition,
- which is as legitimate as it is arbitrary."[26]
- [Sidenote: Delbœuf's results seem more plausible but, in the end, all
- psychophysics revolves in a vicious circle.]
- We do not believe, in spite of all that has been said, that the method
- of mean gradations has set psychophysics on a new path. The novel
- feature in Delbœuf's investigation was that he chose a particular case,
- in which consciousness seemed to decide in Fechner's favour, and in
- which common sense itself played the part of the psychophysicist. He
- inquired whether certain sensations did not appear to us immediately as
- equal although different, and whether it would not be possible to draw
- up, by their help, a table of sensations which were double, triple or
- quadruple those which preceded them. The mistake which Fechner made,
- as we have just seen, was that he believed in an interval between two
- successive sensations S and S', when there is simply a _passing_ from
- one to the other and not a _difference_ in the arithmetical sense of
- the word. But if the two terms between which the passing takes place
- could be given simultaneously, there would then be a contrast besides
- the transition; and although the contrast is not yet an arithmetical
- difference, it resembles it in a certain respect; for the two terms
- which are compared stand here side by side as in a case of subtraction
- of two numbers. Suppose now that these sensations belong to the same
- _genus_ and that in our past experience we have constantly been present
- at their march past, so to speak, while the physical stimulus increased
- continuously: it is extremely probable that we shall thrust the cause
- into the effect, and that the idea of contrast will thus melt into that
- of arithmetical difference. As we shall have noticed, moreover, that
- the sensation changed abruptly while the stimulus rose continuously,
- we shall no doubt estimate the distance between two given sensations
- by a rough guess at the number of these sudden jumps, or at least of
- the intermediate sensations which usually serve us as landmarks. To
- sum up, the contrast will appear to us as a difference, the stimulus
- as a quantity, the sudden jump as an element of equality: combining
- these three factors, we shall reach the idea of equal quantitative
- differences. Now, these conditions are nowhere so well realized as
- when surfaces of the same colour, more or less illuminated, are
- simultaneously presented to us. Not only is there here a contrast
- between similar sensations, but these sensations correspond to a cause
- whose influence has always been felt by us to be closely connected with
- its distance; and, as this distance can vary continuously, we cannot
- have escaped noticing in our past experience a vast number of shades
- of sensation which succeeded one another along with the continuous
- increase in the cause. We are therefore able to say that the contrast
- between one shade of grey and another, for example, seems to us almost
- equal to the contrast between the latter and a third one; and if we
- define two equal sensations by saying that they are sensations which
- a more or less confused process of reasoning interprets as such, we
- shall in fact reach a law like that proposed by Delbœuf. But it must
- not be forgotten that consciousness has here passed through the same
- intermediate steps as the psychophysicist, and that its judgment
- is worth here just what psychophysics is worth; it is a symbolical
- interpretation of quality as quantity, a more or less rough estimate
- of the number of sensations which can come in between two given
- sensations. The difference is thus not as great as is believed between
- the method of least noticeable differences and that of mean gradations,
- between the psychophysics of Fechner and that of Delbœuf. The first
- led to a conventional measurement of sensation; the second appeals
- to common sense in the particular cases where common sense adopts a
- similar convention. In a word, all psychophysics is condemned by its
- origin to revolve in a vicious circle, for the theoretical postulate on
- which it rests condemns it to experimental verification, and it cannot
- be experimentally verified unless its postulate is first granted. The
- fact is that there is no point of contact between the unextended and
- the extended, between quality and quantity. We can interpret the one by
- the other, set up the one as the equivalent of the other; but sooner or
- later, at the beginning or at the end, we shall have to recognize the
- conventional character of this assimilation.
- [Sidenote: Psychophysics merely pushes to its extreme consequences the
- fundamental but natural mistake of regarding sensations as magnitudes.]
- In truth, psychophysics merely formulates with precision and pushes
- to its extreme consequences a conception familiar to common sense. As
- speech dominates over thought, as external objects, which are common
- to us all, are more important to us than the subjective states through
- which each of us passes, we have everything to gain by objectifying
- these states, by introducing into them, to the largest possible extent,
- the representation of their external cause. And the more our knowledge
- increases, the more we perceive the extensive behind the intensive,
- quantity behind quality, the more also we tend to thrust the former
- into the latter, and to treat our sensations as magnitudes. Physics,
- whose particular function it is to calculate the external cause of our
- internal states, takes the least possible interest in these states
- themselves: constantly and deliberately it confuses them with their
- cause. It thus encourages and even exaggerates the mistake which common
- sense makes on the point. The moment was inevitably bound to come at
- which science, familiarized with this confusion between quality and
- quantity, between sensation and stimulus, should seek to measure the
- one as it measures the other: such was the object of psychophysics. In
- this bold attempt Fechner was encouraged by his adversaries themselves,
- by the philosophers who speak of intensive magnitudes while declaring
- that psychic states cannot be submitted to measurement. For if we
- grant that one sensation can be stronger than another, and that this
- inequality is inherent in the sensations themselves, independently
- of all association of ideas, of all more or less conscious
- consideration of number and space, it is natural to ask by how much
- the first sensation exceeds the second, and to set up a quantitative
- relation between their intensities. Nor is it any use to reply, as
- the opponents of psychophysics sometimes do, that all measurement
- implies superposition, and that there is no occasion to seek for a
- numerical relation between intensities, which are not superposable
- objects. For it will then be necessary to explain why one sensation
- is said to be more intense than another, and how the conceptions
- of greater and smaller can be applied to things which, it has just
- been acknowledged, do not admit among themselves of the relations of
- container to contained. If, in order to cut short any question of this
- kind, we distinguish two kinds of quantity, the one intensive, which
- admits only of a "more or less," the other extensive, which lends
- itself to measurement, we are not far from siding with Fechner and
- the psychophysicists. For, as soon as a thing is acknowledged to be
- capable of increase and decrease, it seems natural to ask by how much
- it decreases or by how much it increases. And, because a measurement
- of this kind does not appear to be possible directly, it does not
- follow that science cannot successfully accomplish it by some indirect
- process, either by an integration of infinitely small elements, as
- Fechner proposes, or by any other roundabout way. Either, then,
- sensation is pure quality, or, if it is a magnitude, we ought to try to
- measure it.
- [Sidenote: Thus intensity judged (1) in representative states by an
- estimate of the magnitude of the cause (2) in affective states by
- multiplicity of psychic phenomena involved.]
- To sum up what precedes, we have found the notion of intensity to
- present itself under a double aspect, according as we study the states
- of consciousness which represent an external cause, or those which
- are self-sufficient. In the former case the perception of intensity
- consists in a certain estimate of the magnitude of the cause means of
- a certain quality in the effect: it is, as the Scottish philosophers
- would have said, an acquired perception. In the second case, we give
- the name of intensity to the larger or smaller number of simple psychic
- phenomena which we conjecture to be involved in the fundamental state:
- it is no longer an _acquired_ perception, but a _confused_ perception.
- In fact, these two meanings of the word usually intermingle, because
- the simpler phenomena involved in an emotion or an effort are generally
- representative, and because the majority of representative states,
- being at the same time affective, themselves include a multiplicity of
- elementary psychic phenomena. The idea of intensity is thus situated
- at the junction of two streams, one of which brings us the idea of
- extensive magnitude from without, while the other brings us from
- within, in fact from the very depths of consciousness, the image of an
- inner multiplicity. Now, the point is to determine in what the latter
- image consists, whether it is the same as that of number, or whether
- it is quite different from it. In the following chapter we shall no
- longer consider states of consciousness in isolation from one another,
- but in their concrete multiplicity, in so far as they unfold themselves
- in pure duration. And, in the same way as we have asked what would be
- the intensity of a representative sensation if we did not introduce
- into it the idea of its cause, we shall now have to inquire what the
- multiplicity of our inner states becomes, what form duration assumes,
- when the space in which it unfolds is eliminated. This second question
- is even more important than the first. For, if the confusion of quality
- with quantity were confined to each of the phenomena of consciousness
- taken separately, it would give rise to obscurities, as we have just
- seen, rather than to problems. But by invading the series of our
- psychic states, by introducing space into our perception of duration,
- it corrupts at its very source our feeling of outer and inner change,
- of movement, and of freedom. Hence the paradoxes of the Eleatics, hence
- the problem of free will. We shall insist rather on the second point;
- but instead of seeking to solve the question, we shall show the mistake
- of those who ask it.
- [1] _Essays,_ (Library Edition, 1891), Vol. ii, p. 381.
- [2] _The Senses and the Intellect,_4th ed., (1894), p. 79.
- [3] _Grundzüge der Physiologischen Psychologie,_2nd ed. (1880), Vol. i,
- p. 375.
- [4] W. James, _Le sentiment de l'effort (Critique philosophique,_ 1880,
- Vol. ii,) cf. _Principles of Psychology,_ (1891), Vol. ii, chap, xxvi.
- [5] _Functions of the Brain,_ 2nd ed. (1886), p. 386.
- [6] _Handbuch der Physiologischen Optik,_ 1st ed. (1867), pp. 600-601.
- [7] _Le mécanisme de l'attention._ Alcan, 1888.
- [8] _The Expression of the Emotions,_ 1st ed., (1872), p. 74.
- [9] "What is an Emotion?_" Mind,_1884, p. 189.
- [10] _Principles of Psychology,_ 3rd. ed., (1890), Vol. i, p. 482.
- [11] _The Expression of the Emotions,_ 1st ed., p. 78.
- [12] _L'homme et l'intelligence,_ p. 36.
- [13] Ibid. p. 37.
- [14] Ibid. p. 43.
- [15] _The Expression of the Emotions,_ 1st ed., pp. 72, 69, 70.
- [16] C. Féré, _Sensation et Mouvement,_ Paris, 1887.
- [17] _Grundzüge der Physiologischen Psychologie,_ 2nd ed., (1880), Vol.
- ii, p. 437.
- [18] "On the Temperature Sense," _Mind,_ 1885.
- [19] Rood, _Modern Chromatics,_(1879), pp. 181-187.
- [20] _Handbuch der Physiologischen Optik,_ 1st ed. (1867), pp. 318-319.
- [21] _Éléments de psychophysique._ Paris, 1883.
- [22] See the account given of these experiments in the _Revue
- philosophique,_ 1887, Vol. i, p. 71, and Vol. ii, p. 180.
- [23] _Éléments de psychophysique,_ pp. 61, 69.
- [24] In the particular case where we admit without restriction Weber's
- Law ΔE/E=_const.,_ integration gives S=C log. E/Q. Q being a constant.
- This is Fechner's "logarithmic law."
- [25] Latterly it has been assumed that ΔS is proportional to S.
- [26] _Revue scientifique,_ March 13 and April 24, 1875.
- CHAPTER II
- THE MULTIPLICITY OF CONSCIOUS STATES[1]
- THE IDEA OF DURATION
- [Sidenote: What is number?]
- Number maybe defined in general as a collection of units, or, speaking
- more exactly, as the synthesis of the one and the many. Every number
- is one, since it is brought before the mind by a simple intuition and
- is given a name; but the unity which attaches to it is that of a sum,
- it covers a multiplicity of parts which can be considered separately.
- Without attempting for the present any thorough examination of these
- conceptions of unity and multiplicity, let us inquire whether the idea
- of number does not imply the representation of something else as well.
- [Sidenote: The units which make up a number must be identical.]
- It is not enough to say that number is a collection of units; we must
- add that these units are identical with one another, or at least that
- they are assumed to be identical when they are counted. No doubt we
- can count the sheep in a flock and say that there are fifty, although
- they are all different from one another and are easily recognized by
- the shepherd: but the reason is that we agree in that case to neglect
- their individual differences and to take into account only what they
- have in common. On the other hand, as soon as we fix our attention on
- the particular features of objects or individuals, we can of course
- make an enumeration of them, but not a total. We place ourselves at
- these two very different points of view when we count the soldiers in
- a battalion and when we call the roll. Hence we may conclude that the
- idea of number implies the simple intuition of a multiplicity of parts
- or units, which are absolutely alike.
- [Sidenote: But they must also be distinct.]
- And yet they must be somehow distinct from one another, since otherwise
- they would merge into a single unit. Let us assume that all the sheep
- in the flock are identical; they differ at least by the position which
- they occupy in space, otherwise they would not form a flock. But now
- let us even set aside the fifty sheep themselves and retain only the
- idea of them. Either we include them all in the same image, and it
- follows as a necessary consequence that we place them side by side in
- an ideal space, or else we repeat fifty times in succession the image
- of a single one, and in that case it does seem, indeed, that the series
- lies in duration rather than in space. But we shall soon find out that
- it cannot be so. For if we picture to ourselves each of the sheep in
- the flock in succession and separately, we shall never have to do
- with more than a single sheep. In order that the number should go on
- increasing in proportion as we advance, we must retain the successive
- images and set them alongside each of the new units which we picture to
- ourselves: now, it is in space that such a juxtaposition takes place
- and not in pure duration. In fact, it will be easily granted that
- counting material objects means thinking all these objects together,
- thereby leaving them in space. But does this intuition of space
- accompany every idea of number, even of an abstract number?
- [Sidenote: We can not form an image or idea of number without the
- accompanying intuition of space.]
- Any one can answer this question by reviewing the various forms which
- the idea of number has assumed for him since his childhood. It will be
- seen that we began by imagining e.g. a row of balls, that these balls
- afterwards became points, and, finally, this image itself disappeared,
- leaving behind it, as we say, nothing but _abstract_ number. But at
- this very moment we ceased to have an image or even an idea of it; we
- kept only the symbol which is necessary for reckoning and which is
- the conventional way of _expressing_ number. For we can confidently
- assert that 12 is half of 24 without thinking either the number 12 or
- the number 24: indeed, as far as quick calculation is concerned, we
- have everything to gain by not doing so. But as soon as we wish to
- picture _number_ to ourselves, and not merely figures or words, we
- are compelled to have recourse to an extended image. What leads to
- misunderstanding on this point seems to be the habit we have fallen
- into of counting in time rather than in space. In order to imagine the
- number 50, for example, we repeat all the numbers starting from unity,
- and when we have arrived at the fiftieth, we believe we have built up
- the number in duration and in duration only. And there is no doubt that
- in this way we have counted moments of duration rather than points in
- space; but the question is whether we have not counted the moments
- of duration by means of points in space. It is certainly possible to
- perceive in time, and in time only, a succession which is nothing but
- a succession, but not an addition, i.e. a succession which culminates
- in a sum. For though we reach a sum by taking into account a succession
- of different terms, yet it is necessary that each of these terms should
- remain when we pass to the following, and should wait, so to speak, to
- be added to the others: how could it wait, if it were nothing but an
- instant of duration? And where could it wait if we did not localize it
- in space? We involuntarily fix at a point in space each of the moments
- which we count, and it is only on this condition that the abstract
- units come to form a sum. No doubt it is possible, as we shall show
- later, to conceive the successive moments of time independently of
- space; but when we add to the present moment those which have preceded
- it, as is the case when we are adding up units, we are not dealing
- with these moments themselves, since they have vanished for ever, but
- with the lasting traces which they seem to have left in space on their
- passage through it. It is true that we generally dispense with this
- mental image, and that, after having used it for the first two or three
- numbers, it is enough to know that it would serve just as well for the
- mental picturing of the others, if we needed it. But every clear idea
- of number implies a visual image in space; and the direct study of the
- units which go to form a discrete multiplicity will lead us to the same
- conclusion on this point as the examination of number itself.
- [Sidenote: All unity is the unity of a simple act of the mind. Unity
- divisible only because regarded as extended in space.]
- Every number is a collection of units, as we have said, and on the
- other hand every number is itself a unit, in so far as it is a
- synthesis of the units which compose it. But is the word unit taken in
- the same sense in both cases? When we assert that number is a unit,
- we understand by this that we master the whole of it by a simple
- and indivisible intuition of the mind; this unity thus includes a
- multiplicity, since it is the unity of a whole. But when we speak of
- the units which go to form number, we no longer think of these units
- as sums, but as pure, simple, irreducible units, intended to yield
- the natural series of numbers by an indefinitely continued process of
- accumulation. It seems, then, that there are two kinds of units, the
- one ultimate, out of which a number is formed by a process of addition,
- and the other provisional, the number so formed, which is multiple
- in itself, and owes its unity to the simplicity of the act by which
- the mind perceives it. And there is no doubt that, when we picture
- the units which make up number, we believe that we are thinking of
- indivisible components: this belief has a great deal to do with the
- idea that it is possible to conceive number independently of space.
- Nevertheless, by looking more closely into the matter, we shall see
- that all unity is the unity of a simple act of the mind, and that, as
- this is an act of unification, there must be some multiplicity for it
- to unify. No doubt, at the moment at which I think each of these units
- separately, I look upon it as indivisible, since I am determined to
- think of its unity alone. But as soon as I put it aside in order to
- pass to the next, I objectify it, and by that very deed I make it a
- thing, that is to say, a multiplicity. To convince oneself of this, it
- is enough to notice that the units by means of which arithmetic forms
- numbers are _provisional_ units, which can be subdivided without limit,
- and that each of them is the sum of fractional quantities as small and
- as numerous as we like to imagine. How could we divide the unit, if
- it were here that ultimate unity which characterizes a simple act of
- the mind? How could we split it up into fractions whilst affirming its
- unity, if we did not regard it implicitly as an extended object, one
- in intuition but multiple in space? You will never get out of an idea
- which you have formed anything which you have not put into it; and if
- the unity by means of which you make up your number is the unity of
- an act and not of an object, no effort of analysis will bring out of
- it anything but unity pure and simple. No doubt, when you equate the
- number 3 to the sum of 1 + 1 + 1, nothing prevents you from regarding
- the units which compose it as indivisible: but the reason is that you
- do not choose to make use of the multiplicity which is enclosed within
- each of these units. Indeed, it is probable that the number 3 first
- assumes to our mind this simpler shape, because we think rather of the
- way in which we have obtained it than of the use which we might make
- of it. But we soon perceive that, while all multiplication implies the
- possibility of treating any number whatever as a provisional unit which
- can be added to itself, inversely the units in their turn are true
- numbers which are as big as we like, but are regarded as provisionally
- indivisible for the purpose of compounding them with one another. Now,
- the very admission that it is possible to divide the unit into as many
- parts as we like, shows that we regard it as extended.
- [Sidenote: Number in process of formation is discontinuous, but, when
- formed, is invested with the continuity of space.]
- For we must understand what is meant by the of number. It cannot
- be denied that the formation or construction of a number implies
- discontinuity. In other words, as we remarked above, each of the units
- with which we form the number 3 seems to be indivisible _while_ we are
- dealing with it, and we pass abruptly from one to the other. Again,
- if we form the same number with halves, with quarters, with any units
- whatever, these units, in so far as they serve to form the said number,
- will still constitute elements which are provisionally indivisible, and
- it is always by jerks, by sudden jumps, so to speak, that we advance
- from one to the other. And the reason is that, in order to get a
- number, we are compelled to fix our attention successively on each of
- the units of which it is compounded. The indivisibility of the act by
- which we conceive any one of them is then represented under the form
- of a mathematical point which is separated from the following point
- by an interval of space. But, while a series of mathematical points
- arranged in empty space expresses fairly well the process by which we
- form the idea of number, these mathematical points have a tendency to
- develop into lines in proportion as our attention is diverted from
- them, as if they were trying to reunite with one another. And when we
- look at number in its finished state, this union is an accomplished
- fact: the points have become lines, the divisions have been blotted
- out, the whole displays all the characteristics of continuity. This is
- why number, although we have formed it according to a definite law, can
- be split up on any system we please. In a word, we must distinguish
- between the unity which we think of and the unity which we set up as an
- object after having thought of it, as also between number in process of
- formation and number once formed. The unit is irreducible while we are
- thinking it and number is discontinuous while we are building it up:
- but, as soon as we consider number in its finished state, we objectify
- it, and it then appears to be divisible to an unlimited extent. In
- fact, we apply the term _subjective_ to what seems to be completely and
- adequately known, and the term _objective_ to what is known in such a
- way that a constantly increasing number of new impressions could be
- substituted for the idea which we actually have of it. Thus, a complex
- feeling will contain a fairly large number of simple elements; but,
- as long as these elements do not stand out with perfect clearness,
- we cannot say that they were completely realized, and, as soon as
- consciousness has a distinct perception of them, the psychic state
- which results from their synthesis will have changed for this very
- reason. But there is no change in the general appearance of a body,
- however it is analysed by thought, because these different analyses,
- and an infinity of others, are already visible in the mental image
- which we form of the body, though they are not realized: this actual
- and not merely virtual perception of subdivisions in what is undivided
- is just what we call objectivity. It then becomes easy to determine the
- exact part played by the subjective and the objective in the idea of
- number. What properly belongs to the mind is the indivisible process by
- which it concentrates attention successively on the different parts of
- a given space; but the parts which have thus been isolated remain in
- order to join with the others, and, once the addition is made, they may
- be broken up in any way whatever. They are therefore parts of space,
- and space is, accordingly, the material with which the mind builds up
- number, the medium in which the mind places it.
- Properly speaking, it is arithmetic which teaches us to split up
- without limit the units of which number consists. Common sense is very
- much inclined to build up number with indivisibles.
- [Sidenote: It follows that number is actually _thought of_ as a
- juxtaposition in space.]
- And this is easily understood, since the provisional simplicity of
- the component units is just what they owe to the mind, and the latter
- pays more attention to its own acts than to the material on which
- it works. Science confines itself, here, to drawing our attention
- to this material: if we did not already localize number in space,
- science would certainly not succeed in making us transfer it thither.
- From the beginning, therefore, we must have thought of number as of
- a juxtaposition in space. This is the conclusion which we reached
- at first, basing ourselves on the fact that all addition implies a
- multiplicity of parts simultaneously perceived.
- [Sidenote: Two kinds of multiplicity: (1) material objects, counted
- in space; (2) conscious states, not countable unless symbolically
- represented in space.]
- Now, if this conception of number is granted, it will be seen that
- everything is not counted in the same way, and that there are two very
- different kinds of multiplicity. When we speak of material objects,
- we refer to the possibility of seeing and touching them; we localize
- them in space. In that case, no effort of the inventive faculty or
- of symbolical representation is necessary in order to count them; we
- have only to think them, at first separately, and then simultaneously,
- within the very medium in which they come under our observation. The
- case is no longer the same when we consider purely affective psychic
- states, or even mental images other than those built up by means
- of sight and touch. Here, the terms being no longer given in space,
- it seems, _a priori,_ that we can hardly count them except by some
- process of symbolical representation. In fact, we are well aware of a
- representation of this kind when we are dealing with sensations the
- cause of which is obviously situated in space. Thus, when we hear a
- noise of steps in the street, we have a confused vision of somebody
- walking along: each of the successive sounds is then localized at a
- point in space where the passer-by might tread: we count our sensations
- in the very space in which their tangible causes are ranged. Perhaps
- some people count the successive strokes of a distant bell in a similar
- way, their imagination pictures the bell coming and going; this spatial
- sort of image is sufficient for the first two units, and the others
- follow naturally. But most people's minds do not proceed in this way.
- They range the successive sounds in an ideal space and then fancy
- that they are counting them in pure duration. Yet we must be clear on
- this point. The sounds of the bell certainly reach me one after the
- other; but one of two alternatives must be true. Either I retain each
- of these successive sensations in order to combine it with the others
- and form a group which reminds me of an air or rhythm which I know: in
- that case I do not _count_ the sounds, I limit myself to gathering,
- so to speak, the qualitative impression produced by the whole series.
- Or else I intend explicitly to count them, and then I shall have
- to separate them, and this separation must take place within some
- homogeneous medium in which the sounds, stripped of their qualities,
- and in a manner emptied, leave traces of their presence which are
- absolutely alike. The question now is, whether this medium is time or
- space. But a moment of time, we repeat, cannot persist in order to be
- added to others. If the sounds are separated, they must leave empty
- intervals bet ween them. If we count them, the intervals must remain
- though the sounds disappear: how could these intervals remain, if they
- were pure duration and not space? It is in space, therefore, that the
- operation takes place. It becomes, indeed, more and more difficult
- as we penetrate further into the depths of consciousness. Here we
- find ourselves confronted by a confused multiplicity of sensations
- and feelings which analysis alone can distinguish. Their number is
- identical with the number of the moments which we take up when we count
- them; but these moments, as they can be added to one another, are
- again points in space. Our final conclusion, therefore, is that there
- are two kinds of multiplicity: that of material objects, to which the
- conception of number is immediately applicable; and the multiplicity of
- states of consciousness, which cannot be regarded as numerical without
- the help of some symbolical representation, in which a necessary
- element is _space._
- [Sidenote: The impenetrability of matter is not a physical but a
- logical necessity.]
- As a matter of fact, each of us makes a distinction between these two
- kinds of multiplicity whenever he speaks of the impenetrability of
- matter. We sometimes set up impenetrability as a fundamental property
- of bodies, known in the same way and put on the same level as e.g.
- weight or resistance. But a purely negative property of this kind
- cannot be revealed by our senses; indeed, certain experiments in
- mixing and combining things might lead us to call it in question if
- our minds were not already made up on the point. Try to picture one
- body penetrating another: you will at once assume that there are empty
- spaces in the one which will be occupied by the particles of the other;
- these particles in their turn cannot penetrate one another unless one
- of them divides in order to fill up the interstices of the other; and
- our thought will prolong this operation indefinitely in preference to
- picturing two bodies in the same place. Now, if impenetrability were
- really a quality of matter which was known by the senses, it is not at
- all clear why we should experience more difficulty in conceiving two
- bodies merging into one another than a surface devoid of resistance
- or a weightless fluid. In reality, it is not a physical but a logical
- necessity which attaches to the proposition: "Two bodies cannot occupy
- the same place at the same time" The contrary assertion involves an
- absurdity which no conceivable experience could succeed in dispelling.
- In a word, it implies a contradiction. But does not this amount to
- recognizing that the very idea of the number 2, or, more generally,
- of any number whatever, involves the idea of juxtaposition in space?
- If impenetrability is generally regarded as a quality of matter, the
- reason is that the idea of number is thought to be independent of the
- idea of space. We thus believe that we are adding something to the
- idea of two or more objects by saying that they cannot occupy the
- same place: as if the idea of the number 2, even the abstract number,
- were not already, as we have shown, that of two different positions
- in space! Hence to assert the impenetrability of matter is simply to
- recognize the interconnexion between the notions of number and space,
- it is to state a property of number rather than of matter.--Yet, it
- will be said, do we not count feelings, sensations, ideas, all of
- which permeate one another, and each of which, for its part, takes
- up the whole of the soul?--Yes, undoubtedly; but, just because they
- permeate one another, we cannot count them unless we represent them
- by homogeneous units which occupy separate positions in space and
- consequently no longer permeate one another. Impenetrability thus makes
- its appearance at the same time as number; and when we attribute this
- quality to matter in order to distinguish it from everything which
- is not matter, we simply state under another form the distinction
- established above between extended objects, to which the conception of
- number is immediately applicable, and states of consciousness, which
- have first of all to be represented symbolically in space.
- [Sidenote: Homogeneous time as the medium in which conscious states
- form discrete series. This time is nothing but space, and pure duration
- is something different.]
- It is advisable to dwell on the last point. If, in order to count
- states of consciousness, we have to represent them symbolically in
- space, is it not likely that this symbolical representation will alter
- the normal conditions of inner perception? Let us recall what we
- said a short time ago about the intensity of certain psychic states.
- Representative sensation, looked at in itself, is pure quality; but,
- seen through the medium of extensity, this quality becomes in a
- certain sense quantity, and is called intensity. In the same way, our
- projection of our psychic states into space in order to form a discrete
- multiplicity is likely to influence these states themselves and to
- give them in reflective consciousness a new form, which immediate
- perception did not attribute to them. Now, let us notice that when we
- speak of _time,_ we generally think of a homogeneous medium in which
- our conscious states are ranged alongside one another as in space, so
- as to form a discrete multiplicity. Would not time, thus understood, be
- to the multiplicity of our psychic states what intensity is to certain
- of them,--a sign, a symbol, absolutely distinct from true duration?
- Let us ask consciousness to isolate itself from the external world,
- and, by a vigorous effort of abstraction, to become itself again.
- We shall then put this question to it: does the multiplicity of our
- conscious states bear the slightest resemblance to the multiplicity of
- the units of a number? Has true duration anything to do with space?
- Certainly, our analysis of the idea of number could not but make us
- doubt this analogy, to say no more. For if time, as the reflective
- consciousness represents it, is a medium in which our conscious states
- form a discrete series so as to admit of being counted, and if on the
- other hand our conception of number ends in spreading out in space
- everything which can be directly counted, it is to be presumed that
- time, understood in the sense of a medium in which we make distinctions
- and count, is nothing but space. That which goes to confirm this
- opinion is that we are compelled to borrow from space the images by
- which we describe what the reflective consciousness feels about time
- and even about succession; it follows that pure duration must be
- something different. Such are the questions which we have been led to
- ask by the very analysis of the notion of discrete multiplicity. But we
- cannot throw any light upon them except by a direct study of the ideas
- of space and time in their mutual relations.
- [Sidenote: Does space exist independently of its contents, as Kant
- held?]
- We shall not lay too much stress on the question of the absolute
- reality of space: perhaps we might as well ask whether space is or
- is not in space. In short, our senses perceive the qualities of
- bodies and space along with them: the great difficulty seems to have
- been to discover whether extensity is an aspect of these physical
- qualities--a quality of quality--or whether these qualities are
- essentially unextended, space coming in as a later addition, but being
- self-sufficient and existing without them. On the first hypothesis,
- space would be reduced to an abstraction, or, speaking more correctly,
- an extract; it would express the common element possessed by certain
- sensations called representative. In the second case, space would be a
- reality as solid as the sensations themselves, although of a different
- order. We owe the exact formulation of this latter conception to Kant:
- the theory which he works out in the Transcendental Aesthetic consists
- in endowing space with an existence independent of its content, in
- laying down as _de jure_ separable what each of us separates _de
- facto,_ and in refusing to regard extensity as an abstraction like the
- others. In this respect the Kantian conception of space differs less
- than is usually imagined from the popular belief. Far from shaking our
- faith in the reality of space, Kant has shown what it actually means
- and has even justified it.
- [Sidenote: The empiricists really agree with Kant for extensity can not
- result from synthesis of unextended sensations without an act of the
- mind.]
- Moreover, the solution given by Kant does not seem to have been
- seriously disputed since his time: indeed, it has forced itself,
- sometimes without their knowledge, on the majority of those who
- have approached the problem anew, whether nativists or empiricists.
- Psychologists agree in assigning a Kantian origin to the nativistic
- explanation of Johann Müller; but Lotze's hypothesis of local signs,
- Bain's theory, and the more comprehensive explanation suggested by
- Wundt, may seem at first quite independent of the Transcendental
- Aesthetic. The authors of these theories seem indeed to have put aside
- the problem of the nature of space, in order to investigate simply
- by what process our sensations come to be situated in space and to
- be set, so to speak, alongside one another: but this very question
- shows that they regard sensations as inextensive and make a radical
- distinction, just as Kant did, between the matter of representation
- and its form. The conclusion to be drawn from the theories of Lotze
- and Bain, and from Wundt's attempt to reconcile them, is that the
- sensations by means of which we come to form the notion of space are
- themselves unextended and simply qualitative: extensity is supposed
- to result from their synthesis, as water from the combination of two
- gases. The empirical or genetic explanations have thus taken up the
- problem of space at the very point where Kant left it: Kant separated
- space from its contents: the empiricists ask how these contents, which
- are taken out of space by our thought, manage to get back again. It is
- true that they have apparently disregarded the activity of the mind,
- and that they are obviously inclined to regard the extensive form under
- which we represent things as produced by a kind of alliance of the
- sensations with one another: space, without being extracted from the
- sensations, is supposed to result from their co-existence. But how can
- we explain such an origination without the active intervention of the
- mind? The extensive differs by hypothesis from the inextensive: and
- even if we assume that extension is nothing but a relation between
- inextensive terms, this relation must still be established by a mind
- capable of thus associating several terms. It is no use quoting the
- example of chemical combinations, in which the whole seems to assume,
- of its own accord, a form and qualities which did not belong to any
- of the elementary atoms. This form and these qualities owe their
- origin just to the fact that we gather up the multiplicity of atoms
- in a single perception: get rid of the mind which carries out this
- synthesis and you will at once do away with the qualities, that is
- to say, the aspect under which the synthesis of elementary parts is
- presented to our consciousness. Thus inextensive sensations will remain
- what they are, viz., inextensive sensations, if nothing be added to
- them. For their co-existence to give rise to space, there must be an
- act of the mind which takes them in all at the same time and sets them
- in juxtaposition: this unique act is very like what Kant calls an _a
- priori_ form of sensibility.
- [Sidenote: This act consists in the intuition of an empty homogeneous
- medium: perhaps peculiar to man and not shared by animals.]
- If we now seek to characterize this act, we see that it consists
- essentially in the intuition, or rather the conception, of an empty
- homogeneous medium. For it is scarcely possible to give any other
- definition of space: space is what enables us to distinguish a number
- of identical and simultaneous sensations from one another; it is
- thus a principle of differentiation other than that of qualitative
- differentiation, and consequently it is a reality with no quality.
- Someone may say, with the believers in the theory of local signs, that
- simultaneous sensations are never identical, and that, in consequence
- of the diversity of the organic elements which they affect, there are
- no two points of a homogeneous surface which make the same impression
- on the sight or the touch. We are quite ready to grant it, for if these
- two points affected us in the same way, there would be no reason for
- placing one of them on the right rather than on the left. But, just
- because we afterwards interpret this difference of quality in the sense
- of a difference of situation, it follows that we must have a clear
- idea of a homogeneous medium, i.e. of a simultaneity of terms which,
- although identical in quality, are yet distinct from one another. The
- more you insist on the difference between the impressions made on
- our retina by two points of a homogeneous surface, the more do you
- thereby make room for the activity of the mind, which perceives under
- the form of extensive homogeneity what is given it as qualitative
- heterogeneity. No doubt, though the representation of a homogeneous
- space grows out of an effort of the mind, there must be within the
- qualities themselves which differentiate two sensations some reason
- why they occupy this or that definite position in space. We must thus
- distinguish between the perception of extensity and the conception of
- space: they are no doubt implied in one another, but, the higher we
- rise in the scale of intelligent beings, the more clearly do we meet
- with the independent idea of a homogeneous space. It is therefore
- doubtful whether animals perceive the external world quite as we do,
- and especially whether they represent externality in the same way as
- ourselves. Naturalists have pointed out, as a remarkable fact, the
- surprising ease with which many vertebrates, and even some insects,
- manage to find their way through space. Animals have been seen to
- return almost in a straight line to their old home, pursuing a path
- which was hitherto unknown to them over a distance which may amount
- to several hundreds of miles. Attempts have been made to explain this
- feeling of direction by sight or smell, and, more recently, by the
- perception of magnetic currents which would enable the animal to take
- its bearings like a living compass. This amounts to saying that space
- is not so homogeneous for the animal as for us, and that determinations
- of space, or directions, do not assume for it a purely geometrical
- form. Each of these directions might appear to it with its own shade,
- its peculiar quality. We shall understand how a perception of this
- kind is possible if we remember that we ourselves distinguish our right
- from our left by a natural feeling, and that these two parts of our own
- extensity do then appear to us as if they bore a different _quality;_
- in fact, this is the very reason why we cannot give a proper definition
- of right and left. In truth, qualitative differences exist everywhere
- in nature, and I do not see why two concrete directions should not be
- as marked in immediate perception as two colours. But the conception of
- an empty homogeneous medium is something far more extraordinary, being
- a kind of reaction against that heterogeneity which is the very ground
- of our experience. Therefore, instead of saying that animals have a
- special sense of direction, we may as well say that men have a special
- faculty of perceiving or conceiving a space without quality. This
- faculty is not the faculty of abstraction: indeed, if we notice that
- abstraction assumes clean-cut distinctions and a kind of externality
- of the concepts or their symbols with regard to one another, we shall
- find that the faculty of abstraction already implies the intuition
- of a homogeneous medium. What we must say is that we have to do
- with two different kinds of reality, the one heterogeneous, that of
- sensible qualities, the other homogeneous, namely space. This latter,
- clearly conceived by the human intellect, enables us to use clean-cut
- distinctions, to count, to abstract, and perhaps also to speak.
- [Sidenote: Time, in so far as it is a homogenious medium, and not
- concrete duration, is reducible to space.]
- Now, if space is to be defined as the homogeneous, it seems that
- inversely every homogeneous and unbounded medium will be space. For,
- homogeneity here consisting in the absence of every quality, it is hard
- to see how two forms of the homogeneous could be distinguished from
- one another. Nevertheless it is generally agreed to regard time as an
- unbounded medium, different from space but homogeneous like the latter:
- the homogeneous is thus supposed to take two forms, according as its
- contents co-exist or follow one another. It is true that, when we make
- time a homogeneous medium in which conscious states unfold themselves,
- we take it to be given all at once, which amounts to saying that we
- abstract it from duration. This simple consideration ought to warn us
- that we are thus unwittingly falling back upon space, and really giving
- up time. Moreover, we can understand that material objects, being
- exterior to one another and to ourselves, derive both exteriorities
- from the homogeneity of a medium which inserts intervals between them
- and sets off their outlines: but states of consciousness, even when
- successive, permeate one another, and in the simplest of them the whole
- soul can be reflected. We may therefore surmise that time, conceived
- under the form of a homogeneous medium, is some spurious concept,
- due to the trespassing of the idea of space upon the field of pure
- consciousness. At any rate we cannot finally admit two forms of the
- homogeneous, time and space, without first seeking whether one of them
- cannot be reduced to the other. Now, externality is the distinguishing
- mark of things which occupy space, while states of consciousness are
- not essentially external to one another, and become so only by being
- spread out in time, regarded as a homogeneous medium. If, then, one of
- these two supposed forms of the homogeneous, namely time and space,
- is derived from the other, we can surmise _a priori_ that the idea of
- space is the fundamental datum. But, misled by the apparent simplicity
- of the idea of time, the philosophers who have tried to reduce one of
- these ideas to the other have thought that they could make extensity
- out of duration. While showing how they have been misled, we shall see
- that time, conceived under the form of an unbounded and homogeneous
- medium, is nothing but the ghost of space haunting the reflective
- consciousness.
- [Sidenote: Mistake of the attempt to derive relations of extensity from
- those of succession. The conception of pure "duration."]
- The English school tries, in fact, to reduce relations of extensity to
- more or less complex relations of succession in time. When, with our
- eyes shut, we run our hands along a surface, the rubbing of our fingers
- against the surface, and especially the varied play of our joints,
- provide a series of sensations, which differ only by their _qualities_
- and which exhibit a certain order in time. Moreover, experience teaches
- us that this series can be reversed, that we can, by an effort of
- a different kind (or, as we shall call it later, _in an opposite
- direction),_ obtain the same sensations over again in an inverse order:
- relations of position in space might then be defined as reversible
- relations of succession in time. But such a definition involves a
- vicious circle, or at least a very superficial idea of time. There are,
- indeed, as we shall show a little later, two possible conceptions of
- time, the one free from all alloy, the other surreptitiously bringing
- in the idea of space. Pure duration is the form which the succession of
- our conscious states assumes when our ego lets itself _live,_ when it
- refrains from separating its present state from its former states. For
- this purpose it need not be entirely absorbed in the passing sensation
- or idea; for then, on the contrary, it would no longer _endure._ Nor
- need it forget its former states: it is enough that, in recalling these
- states, it does not set them alongside its actual state as one point
- alongside another, but forms both the past and the present states
- into an organic whole, as happens when we recall the notes of a tune,
- melting, so to speak, into one another. Might it not be said that,
- even if these notes succeed one another, yet we perceive them in one
- another, and that their totality may be compared to a living being
- whose parts, although distinct, permeate one another just because they
- are so closely connected? The proof is that, if we interrupt the rhythm
- by dwelling longer than is right on one note of the tune, it is not
- its exaggerated length, as length, which will warn us of our mistake,
- but the qualitative change thereby caused in the whole of the musical
- phrase. We can thus conceive of succession without distinction, and
- think of it as a mutual penetration, an interconnexion and organization
- of elements, each one of which represents the whole, and cannot be
- distinguished or isolated from it except by abstract thought. Such
- is the account of duration which would be given by a being who was
- ever the same and ever changing, and who had no idea of space. But,
- familiar with the latter idea and indeed beset by it, we introduce it
- unwittingly into our feeling of pure succession; we set our states
- of consciousness side by side in such a way as to perceive them
- simultaneously, no longer in one another, but alongside one another;
- in a word, we project time into space, we express duration in terms of
- extensity, and succession thus takes the form of a continuous line or a
- chain, the parts of which touch without penetrating one another. Note
- that the mental image thus shaped implies the perception, no longer
- successive, but simultaneous, of a _before_ and _after,_ and that it
- would be a contradiction to suppose a succession which was only a
- succession, and which nevertheless was contained in one and the same
- instant. Now, when we speak of an _order_ of succession in duration,
- and of the reversibility of this order, is the succession we are
- dealing with pure succession, such as we have just defined it, without
- any admixture of extensity, or is it succession developing in space, in
- such a way that we can take in at once a number of elements which are
- both distinct and set side by side? There is no doubt about the answer:
- we could not introduce _order_ among terms without first distinguishing
- them and then comparing the places which they occupy; hence we must
- perceive them as multiple, simultaneous and distinct; in a word, we set
- them side by side, and if we introduce an order in what is successive,
- the reason is that succession is converted into simultaneity and
- is projected into space. In short, when the movement of my finger
- along a surface or a line provides me with a series of sensations of
- different qualities, one of two things happens: either I picture these
- sensations to myself as in duration only, and in that case they succeed
- one another in such a way that I cannot at a given moment perceive a
- number of them as simultaneous and yet distinct; or else I make out an
- order of succession, but in that case I display the faculty not only of
- perceiving a succession of elements, but also of setting them out in
- line after having distinguished them: in a word, I already possess the
- idea of space. Hence the idea of a reversible series in duration, or
- even simply of a certain _order_ of succession in time, itself implies
- the representation of space, and cannot be used to define it.
- [Sidenote: Succession cannot be symbolized as a line without
- introducing the idea of space of three dimensions.]
- To give this argument a stricter form, let us imagine a straight line
- of unlimited length, and on this line a material point A, which
- moves. If this point were conscious of itself, it would feel itself
- change, since it moves: it would perceive a succession; but would
- this succession assume for it the form of a line? No doubt it would,
- if it could rise, so to speak, above the line which it traverses, and
- perceive simultaneously several points of it in juxtaposition: but
- by doing so it would form the idea of space, and it is in space and
- not in pure duration that it would see displayed the changes which it
- undergoes. We here put our finger on the mistake of those who regard
- pure duration as something similar to space, but of a simpler nature.
- They are fond of setting psychic states side by side, of forming a
- chain or a line of them, and do not imagine that they are introducing
- into this operation the idea of space properly so called, the idea of
- space in its totality, because space is a medium of three dimensions.
- But how can they fail to notice that, in order to perceive a line as
- a line, it is necessary to take up a position outside it, to take
- account of the void which surrounds it, and consequently to think
- a space of three dimensions? If our conscious point A does not yet
- possess the idea of space--and this is the hypothesis which we have
- agreed to adopt--the succession of states through which it passes
- cannot assume for it the form of a line; but its sensations will add
- themselves dynamically to one another and will organize themselves,
- like the successive notes of a tune by which we allow ourselves to be
- lulled and soothed. In a word, pure duration might well be nothing but
- a succession of qualitative changes, which melt into and permeate one
- another, without precise outlines, without any tendency to externalize
- themselves in relation to one another, without any affiliation with
- number: it would be pure heterogeneity. But for the present we shall
- not insist upon this point; it is enough for us to have shown that,
- from the moment when you attribute the least homogeneity to duration,
- you surreptitiously introduce space.
- [Sidenote: Pure duration is wholly qualitative. It cannot be measured
- unless symbolically represented in space.]
- It is true that we count successive moments of duration, and that,
- because of its relations with number, time at first seems to us to
- be a measurable magnitude, just like space. But there is here an
- important distinction to be made. I say, e.g., that a minute has just
- elapsed, and I mean by this that a pendulum, beating the seconds, has
- completed sixty oscillations. If I picture these sixty oscillations
- to myself all at once by a single mental perception, I exclude by
- hypothesis the idea of a succession. I do not think of sixty strokes
- which succeed one another, but of sixty points on a fixed line, each
- one of which symbolizes, so to speak, an oscillation of the pendulum.
- If, on the other hand, I wish to picture these sixty oscillations in
- succession, but without altering the way they are produced in space,
- I shall be compelled to think of each oscillation to the exclusion
- of the recollection of the preceding one, for space has preserved no
- trace of it; but by doing so I shall condemn myself to remain for ever
- in the present; I shall give up the attempt to think a succession or a
- duration. Now if, finally, I retain the recollection of the preceding
- oscillation together with the image of the present oscillation, one of
- two things will happen. Either I shall set the two images side by side,
- and we then fall back on our first hypothesis, or I shall perceive one
- in the other, each permeating the other and organizing themselves like
- the notes of a tune, so as to form what we shall call a continuous or
- qualitative multiplicity with no resemblance to number. I shall thus
- get the image of pure duration; but I shall have entirely got rid of
- the idea of a homogeneous medium or a measurable quantity. By carefully
- examining our consciousness we shall recognize that it proceeds in this
- way whenever it refrains from representing duration symbolically. When
- the regular oscillations of the pendulum make us sleepy, is it the last
- sound heard, the last movement perceived, which produces this effect?
- No, undoubtedly not, for why then should not the first have done the
- same? Is it the recollection of the preceding sounds or movements, set
- in juxtaposition to the last one? But this same recollection, if it
- is later on set in juxtaposition to a single sound or movement, will
- remain without effect. Hence we must admit that the sounds combined
- with one another and acted, not by their quantity as quantity, but
- by the quality which their quantity exhibited, i.e. by the rhythmic
- organization of the whole. Could the effect of a slight but continuous
- stimulation be understood in any other way? If the sensation remained
- always the same, it would continue to be indefinitely slight and
- indefinitely bearable. But the fact is that each increase of
- stimulation is taken up into the preceding stimulations, and that the
- whole produces on us the effect of a musical phrase which is constantly
- on the point of ending and constantly altered in its totality by the
- addition of some new note. If we assert that it is always the _same_
- sensation, the reason is that we are thinking, not of the sensation
- itself, but of its objective cause situated in space. We then set it
- out in space in its turn, and in place of an organism which develops,
- in place of changes which permeate one another, we perceive one and
- the same sensation stretching itself out lengthwise, so to speak,
- and setting itself in juxtaposition to itself without limit. Pure
- duration, that which consciousness perceives, must thus be reckoned
- among the so-called intensive magnitudes, if intensities can be called
- magnitudes: strictly speaking, however, it is not a quantity, and as
- soon as we try to measure it, we unwittingly replace it by space.
- [Sidenote: Time, as dealt with by the astronomer and the physicist,
- does indeed _seem_ to be measurable and therefore homogeneous.]
- But we find it extraordinarily difficult to think of duration in its
- original purity; this is due, no doubt, to the fact that we do not
- _endure_ alone, external objects, it seems, _endure_ as we do, and
- time, regarded from this point of view, has every appearance of a
- homogeneous medium. Not only do the moments of this duration seem to
- be external to one another, like bodies in space, but the movement
- perceived by our senses is the, so to speak, palpable sign of a
- homogeneous and measurable duration. Nay more, time enters into the
- formulae of mechanics, into the calculations of the astronomer, and
- even of the physicist, under the form of a quantity. We measure the
- velocity of a movement, implying that time itself is a magnitude.
- Indeed, the analysis which we have just attempted requires to be
- completed, for if duration properly so-called cannot be measured,
- what is it that is measured by the oscillations of the pendulum?
- Granted that inner duration, perceived by consciousness, is nothing
- else but the melting of states of consciousness into one another, and
- the gradual growth of the ego, it will be said, notwithstanding, that
- the time which the astronomer introduces into his formulae, the time
- which our clocks divide into equal portions, this time, at least, is
- something different: it must be a measurable and therefore homogeneous
- magnitude.--It is nothing of the sort, however, and a close examination
- will dispel this last illusion.
- [Sidenote: But what we call measuring time is nothing but counting
- simultaneities. The clock taken as an illustration.]
- When I follow with my eyes on the dial of a clock the movement of
- the hand which corresponds to the oscillations of the pendulum, I
- do not measure duration, as seems to be thought; I merely count
- simultaneities, which is very different. Outside of me, in space, there
- is never more than a single position of the hand and the pendulum,
- for nothing is left of the past positions. Within myself a process
- of organization or interpenetration of conscious states is going on,
- which constitutes true duration. It is because I _endure_ in this way
- that I picture to myself what I call the past oscillations of the
- pendulum at the same time as I perceive the present oscillation. Now,
- let us withdraw for a moment the ego which thinks these so-called
- successive oscillations: there will never be more than a single
- oscillation, and indeed only a single position, of the pendulum, and
- hence no duration. Withdraw, on the other hand, the pendulum and its
- oscillations; there will no longer be anything but the heterogeneous
- duration of the ego, without moments external to one another, without
- relation to number. Thus, within our ego, there is succession without
- mutual externality; outside the ego, in pure space, mutual externality
- without succession: mutual externality, since the present oscillation
- is radically distinct from the previous oscillation, which no longer
- exists; but no succession, since succession exists solely for a
- conscious spectator who keeps the past in mind and sets the two
- oscillations or their symbols side by side in an auxiliary space.
- Now, between this succession without externality and this externality
- without succession, a kind of exchange takes place, very similar to
- what physicists call the phenomenon of endosmosis. As the successive
- phases of our conscious life, although interpenetrating, correspond
- individually to an oscillation of the pendulum which occurs at the same
- time, and as, moreover, these oscillations are sharply distinguished
- from one another, we get into the habit of setting up the same
- distinction between the successive moments of our conscious life: the
- oscillations of the pendulum break it up, so to speak, into parts
- external to one another: hence the mistaken idea of a homogeneous inner
- duration, similar to space, the moments of which are identical and
- follow, without penetrating, one another. But, on the other hand, the
- oscillations of the pendulum, which are distinct only because one has
- disappeared when the other appears on the scene, profit, as it were,
- from the influence which they have thus exercised over our conscious
- life. Owing to the fact that our consciousness has organized them as a
- whole in memory, they are first preserved and afterwards disposed in
- a series: in a word, we create for them a fourth dimension of space,
- which we call homogeneous time, and which enables the movement of the
- pendulum, although taking place at one spot, to be continually set in
- juxtaposition to itself. Now, if we try to determine the exact part
- played by the real and the imaginary in this very complex process,
- this is what we find. There is a real space, without duration, in
- which phenomena appear and disappear simultaneously with our states of
- consciousness. There is a real duration, the heterogeneous moments of
- which permeate one another; each moment, however, can be brought into
- relation with a state of the external world which is contemporaneous
- with it, and can be separated from the other moments in consequence
- of this very process. The comparison of these two realities gives
- rise to a symbolical representation of duration, derived from space.
- Duration thus assumes the illusory form of a homogeneous medium, and
- the connecting link between these two terms, space and duration, is
- simultaneity, which might be defined as the intersection of time and
- space.
- [Sidenote: Two elements in motion: (1) the space traversed, which is
- homogeneous and divisible; (2) the act of traversing, indivisible and
- real only for consciousness.]
- If we analyse in the same way the concept of motion, the living symbol
- of this seemingly homogeneous duration, we shall be led to make a
- distinction of the same kind. We generally say that a movement takes
- place _in_ space, and when we assert that motion is homogeneous and
- divisible, it is of the space traversed that we are thinking, as if
- it were interchangeable with the motion itself. Now, if we reflect
- further, we shall see that the successive positions of the moving
- body really do occupy space, but that the process by which it passes
- from one position to the other, a process which occupies duration and
- which has no reality except for a conscious spectator, eludes space.
- We have to do here not with an _object_ but with a _progress_: motion,
- in so far as it is a passage from one point to another, is a mental
- synthesis, a psychic and therefore unextended process. Space contains
- only parts of space, and at whatever point of space we consider the
- moving body, we shall get only a position. If consciousness is aware
- of anything more than positions, the reason is that it keeps the
- successive positions in mind and synthesizes them. But how does it
- carry out a synthesis of this kind? It cannot be by a fresh setting out
- of these same positions in a homogeneous medium, for a fresh synthesis
- would be necessary to connect the positions with one another, and so
- on indefinitely. We are thus compelled to admit that we have here to
- do with a synthesis which is, so to speak, qualitative, a gradual
- organization of our successive sensations, a unity resembling that
- of a phrase in a melody. This is just the idea of motion which we
- form when we think of it by itself, when, so to speak, from motion we
- extract mobility. Think of what you experience on suddenly perceiving
- a shooting star: in this extremely rapid motion there is a natural and
- instinctive separation between the space traversed, which appears to
- you under the form of a line of fire, and the absolutely indivisible
- sensation of motion or mobility. A rapid gesture, made with one's eyes
- shut, will assume for consciousness the form of a purely qualitative
- sensation as long as there is no thought of the space traversed. In
- a word, there are two elements to be distinguished in motion, the
- space traversed and the act by which we traverse it, the successive
- positions and the synthesis of these positions. The first of these
- elements is a homogeneous quantity: the second has no reality except in
- a consciousness: it is a quality or an intensity, whichever you prefer.
- But here again we meet with a case of endosmosis, an intermingling
- of the purely intensive sensation of mobility with the extensive
- representation of the space traversed. On the one hand we attribute to
- the motion the divisibility of the space which it traverses, forgetting
- that it is quite possible to divide an _object,_ but not an _act_: and
- on the other hand we accustom ourselves to projecting this act itself
- into space, to applying it to the whole of the line which the moving
- body traverses, in a word, to solidifying it: as if this localizing of
- a _progress_ in space did not amount to asserting that, even outside
- consciousness, the past co-exists along with the present!
- [Sidenote: The common confusion between motion and the space traversed
- gives rise to the paradoxes of the Eleatics.]
- It is to this confusion between motion and the space traversed that the
- paradoxes of the Eleatics are due; for the interval which separates two
- points is infinitely divisible, and if motion consisted of parts like
- those of the interval itself, the interval would never be crossed.
- But the truth is that each of Achilles' steps is a simple indivisible
- act, and that, after a given number of these acts, Achilles will have
- passed the tortoise. The mistake of the Eleatics arises from their
- identification of this series of acts, each of which is _of a definite
- kind_ and _indivisible,_ with the homogeneous space which underlies
- them. As this space can be divided and put together again according
- to any law whatever, they think they are justified in reconstructing
- Achilles' whole movement, not with Achilles' kind of step, but with
- the tortoise's kind: in place of Achilles pursuing the tortoise they
- really put two tortoises, regulated by each other, two tortoises which
- agree to make the same kind of steps or simultaneous acts, so as
- never to catch one another. Why does Achilles outstrip the tortoise?
- Because each of Achilles' steps and each of the tortoise's steps are
- indivisible acts in so far as they are movements, and are different
- magnitudes in so far as they are space: so that addition will soon give
- a greater length for the space traversed by Achilles than is obtained
- by adding together the space traversed by the tortoise and the handicap
- with which it started. This is what Zeno leaves out of account when he
- reconstructs the movement of Achilles according to the same law as the
- movement of the tortoise, forgetting that space alone can be divided
- and put together again in any way we like, and thus confusing space
- with motion. Hence we do not think it necessary to admit, even after
- the acute and profound analysis of a contemporary thinker,[2] that
- the meeting of the two moving bodies implies a discrepancy between
- real and imaginary motion, between _space in itself_ and indefinitely
- divisible space, between concrete time and abstract time. Why resort
- to a metaphysical hypothesis, however ingenious, about the nature of
- space, time, and motion, when immediate intuition shows us motion
- within duration, and duration outside space? There is no need to assume
- a limit to the divisibility of concrete space; we can admit that it
- is infinitely divisible, provided that we make a distinction between
- the simultaneous positions of the two moving bodies, which are in
- fact in space, and their movements, which cannot occupy space, being
- duration rather than extent, quality and not quantity. To measure the
- velocity of a movement, as we shall see, is simply to ascertain a
- simultaneity; to introduce this velocity into calculations is simply to
- use a convenient means of anticipating a simultaneity. Thus mathematics
- confines itself to its own province as long as it is occupied with
- determining the simultaneous positions of Achilles and the tortoise
- at a given moment, or when it admits _à priori_ that the two moving
- bodies meet at a point _X_--a meeting which is itself a simultaneity.
- But it goes beyond its province when it claims to reconstruct what
- takes place in the interval between two simultaneities; or rather it
- is inevitably led, even then, to consider simultaneities once more,
- fresh simultaneities, the indefinitely increasing number of which ought
- to be a warning that we cannot make movement out of immobilities, nor
- time out of space. In short, just as nothing will be found homogeneous
- in duration except a symbolical medium with no duration at all, namely
- space, in which simultaneities are set out in line, in the same way no
- homogeneous element will be found in motion except that which least
- belongs to it, the traversed space, which is motionless.
- [Sidenote: Science has to eliminate duration from time and mobility
- from motion before it can deal with them.]
- Now, just for this reason, science cannot deal with time and motion
- except on condition of first eliminating the essential and qualitative
- element--of time, duration, and of motion, mobility. We may easily
- convince ourselves of this by examining the part played in astronomy
- and mechanics by considerations of time, motion, and velocity.
- Treatises on mechanics are careful to announce that they do not intend
- to define duration itself but only the equality of two durations. "Two
- intervals of time are equal when two identical bodies, in identical
- conditions at the beginning of each of these intervals and subject to
- the same actions and influences of every kind, have traversed the same
- space at the end of these intervals." In other words, we are to note
- the exact moment at which the motion begins, i.e. the coincidence of
- an external change with one of our psychic states; we are to note the
- moment at which the motion ends, that is to say, another simultaneity;
- finally we are to measure the space traversed, the only thing, in
- fact, which is really measurable. Hence there is no question here
- of duration, but only of space and simultaneities. To announce that
- something will take place at the end of a time _t_ is to declare
- that consciousness will note between now and then a number _t_ of
- simultaneities of a certain kind. And we must not be led astray by the
- words "between now and then," for the interval of duration exists only
- for us and on account of the interpenetration of our conscious states.
- Outside ourselves we should find only space, and consequently nothing
- but simultaneities, of which we could not even say that they are
- objectively successive, since succession can only be thought through
- _comparing_ the present with the past.--That the interval of duration
- itself cannot be taken into account by science is proved by the fact
- that, if all the motions of the universe took place twice or thrice as
- quickly, there would be nothing to alter either in our formulae or in
- the figures which are to be found in them. Consciousness would have
- an indefinable and as it were qualitative impression of the change,
- but the change would not make itself felt outside consciousness, since
- the same number of simultaneities would go on taking place in space.
- We shall see, later on, that when the astronomer predicts, e.g., an
- eclipse, he does something of this kind: he shortens infinitely the
- intervals of duration, as these do not count for science, and thus
- perceives in a very short time--a few seconds at the most--a succession
- of simultaneities which may take up several centuries for the concrete
- consciousness, compelled to live through the intervals instead of
- merely counting their extremities.
- [Sidenote: This is seen in the definition of _velocity._]
- A direct analysis of the notion of velocity will bring us to the same
- conclusion. Mechanics gets this notion through a series of ideas, the
- connexion of which it is easy enough to trace. It first builds up the
- idea of uniform motion by picturing, on the one hand, the path AB of a
- certain moving body, and, on the other, a physical phenomenon which is
- repeated indefinitely under the same conditions, e.g., a stone always
- falling from the same height on to the same spot. If we mark on the
- path AB the points M, Ν, P ... reached by the moving body at each of
- the moments when the stone touches the ground, and if the intervals
- AM, MN and NP are found to be equal to one another, the motion will
- be said to be uniform: and any one of these intervals will be called
- the velocity of the moving body, provided that it is agreed to adopt
- as unit of duration the physical phenomenon which has been chosen as
- the term of comparison. Thus, the velocity of a uniform motion is
- defined by mechanics without appealing to any other notions than those
- of space and simultaneity. Now let us turn to the case of a variable
- motion, that is, to the case when the elements AM, MN, NP ... are found
- to be unequal. In order to define the velocity of the moving body A
- at the point M, we shall only have to imagine an unlimited number of
- moving bodies A*1, A*2, A*3 ... all moving uniformly with velocities
- _v_*1, _v_*2, _v_*3 ... which are arranged, e.g., in an ascending scale
- and which correspond to all possible magnitudes. Let us then consider
- on the path of the moving body _A_ two points M' and M", situated on
- either side of the point M but very near it. At the same time as this
- moving body reaches the points M', M, M", the other moving bodies
- reach points M'*1 M*1 M"*1, M'*2 M*2 M"*2 ... on their respective
- paths; and there must be two moving bodies Ah and Ap such that we
- have on the one hand M' M= M'*h M*h and on the other hand M M"= M*p
- M"*p. We shall then agree to say that the velocity of the moving body
- A at the point M lies between _v_*h and _v_*p. But nothing prevents
- our assuming that the points M' and M" are still nearer the point M,
- and it will then be necessary to replace _v_*h and _v_*p by two fresh
- velocities _v_*i and _v_*n, the one greater than _v_*h and the other
- less than _v_*p. And in proportion as we reduce the two intervals M'M
- and MM", we shall lessen the difference between the velocities of the
- uniform corresponding movements. Now, the two intervals being capable
- of decreasing right down to zero, there evidently exists between _v_*i
- and _v_*n a certain velocity _v_*m, such that the difference between
- this velocity and _v_*h, _v_*i ... on the one hand, and _v_*p, _v_*n ...
- on the other, can become smaller than any given quantity. It is this
- common limit _v_*m which we shall call the velocity of the moving body
- A at the point M.--Now, in this analysis of variable motion, as in
- that of uniform motion, it is a question only of spaces once traversed
- and of simultaneous positions once reached. We were thus justified in
- saying that, while all that mechanics retains of time is simultaneity,
- all that it retains of motion itself--restricted, as it is, to a
- _measurement_ of motion--is immobility.
- [Characters preceded by '*' are in "subscript" in original.]
- [Sidenote: Mechanics deals with equations, which express something
- finished, and not processes, such as duration and motion.]
- This result might have been foreseen by noticing that mechanics
- necessarily deals with equations, and that an algebraic equation always
- expresses something already done. Now, it is of the very essence
- of duration and motion, as they appear to our consciousness, to be
- something that is unceasingly being done; thus algebra can represent
- the results gained at a certain moment of duration and the positions
- occupied by a certain moving body in space, but not duration and
- motion themselves. Mathematics may, indeed, increase the number of
- simultaneities and positions which it takes into consideration by
- making the intervals very small: it may even, by using the differential
- instead of the difference, show that it is possible to increase without
- limit the number of these intervals of duration. Nevertheless, however
- small the interval is supposed to be, it is the extremity of the
- interval at which mathematics always places itself. As for the interval
- itself, as for the duration and the motion, they are necessarily left
- out of the equation. The reason is that duration and motion are mental
- syntheses, and not objects; that, although the moving body occupies,
- one after the other, points on a line, motion itself has nothing to
- do with a line; and finally that, although the positions occupied by
- the moving body vary with the different moments of duration, though it
- even creates distinct moments by the mere fact of occupying different
- positions, duration properly so called has no moments which are
- identical or external to one another, being essentially heterogeneous,
- continuous, and with no analogy to number.
- [Sidenote: Conclusion: space alone is homogeneous: duration and
- succession belong not to the external world, but to the conscious mind.]
- It follows from this analysis that space alone is homogeneous, that
- objects in space form a discrete multiplicity, and that every discrete
- multiplicity is got by a process of unfolding in space. It also follows
- that there is neither duration nor even succession in space, if we
- give to these words the meaning in which consciousness takes them:
- each of the so-called successive states of the external world exists
- alone; their multiplicity is real only for a consciousness that can
- first retain them and then set them side by side by externalizing
- them in relation to one another. If it retains them, it is because
- these distinct states of the external world give rise to states of
- consciousness which permeate one another, imperceptibly organize
- themselves into a whole, and bind the past to the present by this
- very process of connexion. If it externalizes them in relation to one
- another, the reason is that, thinking of their radical distinctness
- (the one having ceased to be when the other appears on the scene), it
- perceives them under the form of a discrete multiplicity, which amounts
- to setting them out in line, in the space in which each of them existed
- separately. The space employed for this purpose is just that which is
- called homogeneous time.
- [Sidenote: Two kinds of multiplicity: two senses of the word
- "distinguish," the one qualitative and the other quantitative.]
- But another conclusion results from this analysis, namely, that
- the multiplicity of conscious states, regarded in its original
- purity, is not at all like the discrete multiplicity which goes to
- form a number. In such a case there is, as we said, a qualitative
- multiplicity. In short, we must admit two kinds of multiplicity, two
- possible senses of the word "distinguish," two conceptions, the one
- qualitative and the other quantitative, of the difference between
- _same_ and _other._ Sometimes this multiplicity, this distinctness,
- this heterogeneity contains number only potentially, as Aristotle would
- have said. Consciousness, then, makes a qualitative discrimination
- without any further thought of counting the qualities or even of
- distinguishing them as _several._ In such a case we have multiplicity
- without quantity. Sometimes, on the other hand, it is a question of
- a multiplicity of terms which are counted or which are conceived as
- capable of being counted; but we think then of the possibility of
- externalizing them in relation to one another, we set them out in
- space. Unfortunately, we are so accustomed to illustrate one of these
- two meanings of the same word by the other, and even to perceive
- the one in the other, that we find it extraordinarily difficult to
- distinguish between them or at least to express this distinction in
- words. Thus I said that several conscious states are organized into a
- whole, permeate one another, gradually gain a richer content, and might
- thus give any one ignorant of space the feeling of pure duration; but
- the very use of the word "several" shows that I had already isolated
- these states, externalized them in relation to one another, and, in a
- word, set them side by side; thus, by the very language which I was
- compelled to use, I betrayed the deeply ingrained habit of setting out
- time in space. From this spatial setting out, already accomplished, we
- are compelled to borrow the terms which we use to describe the state
- of a mind which has not yet accomplished it: these terms are thus
- misleading from the very beginning, and the idea of a multiplicity
- without relation to number or space, although clear for pure reflective
- thought, cannot be translated into the language of common sense. And
- yet we cannot even form the idea of discrete multiplicity without
- considering at the same time a qualitative multiplicity. When we
- explicitly count units by stringing them along a spatial line, is it
- not the case that, alongside this addition of identical terms standing
- out from a homogeneous background, an organization of these units is
- going on in the depths of the soul, a wholly dynamic process, not
- unlike the purely qualitative way in which an anvil, if it could feel,
- would realize a series of blows from a hammer? In this sense we might
- almost say that the numbers in daily use have each their emotional
- equivalent. Tradesmen are well aware of it, and instead of indicating
- the price of an object by a round number of shillings, they will mark
- the next smaller number, leaving themselves to insert afterwards a
- sufficient number of pence and farthings. In a word, the process by
- which we count units and make them into a discrete multiplicity has
- two sides; on the one hand we assume that they are identical, which is
- conceivable only on condition that these units are ranged alongside
- each other in a homogeneous medium; but on the other hand the third
- unit, for example, when added to the other two, alters the nature,
- the appearance and, as it were, the rhythm of the whole; without this
- interpenetration and this, so to speak, qualitative progress, no
- addition would be possible. Hence it is through the quality of quantity
- that we form the idea of quantity without quality.
- [Sidenote: Our successive sensations are regarded as mutually external,
- like their objective causes, and this reacts on our deeper psychic
- life.]
- It is therefore obvious that, if it did not betake itself to a
- symbolical substitute, our consciousness our successive would never
- regard time as a homogeneous medium, in which the terms of a succession
- remain outside one another. But we naturally reach this symbolical
- representation by the mere fact that, in a series of identical terms,
- each term assumes a double aspect for our consciousness: one aspect
- which is the same for all of them, since we are thinking then of
- the sameness of the external object, and another aspect which is
- characteristic of each of them, because the supervening of each term
- brings about a new organization of the whole. Hence the possibility of
- setting out in space, under the form of numerical multiplicity, what
- we have called a qualitative multiplicity, and of regarding the one
- as the equivalent of the other. Now, this twofold process is nowhere
- accomplished so easily as in the perception of the external phenomenon
- which takes for us the form of motion. Here we certainly have a series
- of identical terms, since it is always the same moving body; but, on
- the other hand, the synthesis carried out by our consciousness between
- the actual position and what our memory calls the former positions,
- causes these images to permeate, complete, and, so to speak, continue
- one another. Hence, it is principally by the help of motion that
- duration assumes the form of a homogeneous medium, and that time is
- projected into space. But, even if we leave out motion, any repetition
- of a well-marked external phenomenon would suggest to consciousness
- the same mode of representation. Thus, when we hear a series of
- blows of a hammer, the sounds form an indivisible melody in so far
- as they are pure sensations, and, here again, give rise to a dynamic
- progress; but, knowing that the same objective cause is at work, we
- cut up this progress into phases which we then regard as identical;
- and this multiplicity of elements no longer being conceivable except
- by being set out in space, since they have now become identical, we
- are necessarily led to the idea of a homogeneous time, the symbolical
- image of real duration. In a word, our ego comes in contact with the
- external world at its surface; our successive sensations, although
- dissolving into one another, retain something of the mutual externality
- which belongs to their objective causes; and thus our superficial
- psychic life comes to be pictured without any great effort as set
- out in a homogeneous medium. But the symbolical character of such a
- picture becomes more striking as we advance further into the depths of
- consciousness: the deep-seated self which ponders and decides, which
- heats and blazes up, is a self whose states and changes permeate one
- another and undergo a deep alteration as soon as we separate them from
- one another in order to set them out in space. But as this deeper
- self forms one and the same person with the superficial ego, the two
- seem to _endure_ in the same way. And as the repeated picture of one
- identical objective phenomenon, ever recurring, cuts up our superficial
- psychic life into parts external to one another, the moments which
- are thus determined determine in their turn distinct segments in
- the dynamic and undivided progress of our more personal conscious
- states. Thus the mutual externality which material objects gain from
- their juxtaposition in homogeneous space reverberates and spreads
- into the depths of consciousness: little by little our sensations are
- distinguished from one another like the external causes which gave
- rise to them, and our feelings or ideas come to be separated like the
- sensations with which they are contemporaneous.
- [Sidenote: Eliminate the superficial psychic states, and we no longer
- perceive a homogeneous time or measure duration, but feel it as a
- quality.]
- That our ordinary conception of duration depends on a gradual incursion
- of space into the domain of pure consciousness is proved by the fact
- that, in order to deprive the ego of the faculty of perceiving a
- homogeneous time, it is enough to take away from it this outer circle
- of psychic states which it uses as a balance-wheel. These conditions
- are realized when we dream; for sleep, by relaxing the play of the
- organic functions, alters the communicating surface between the ego
- and external objects. Here we no longer measure duration, but we
- feel it; from quantity it returns to the state of quality; we no
- longer estimate past time mathematically: the mathematical estimate
- gives place to a confused instinct, capable, like all instincts, of
- committing gross errors, but also of acting at times with extraordinary
- skill. Even in the waking state, daily experience ought to teach us
- to distinguish between duration as quality, that which consciousness
- reaches immediately and which is probably what animals perceive, and
- time so to speak materialized, time that has become quantity by being
- set out in space. Whilst I am writing these lines, the hour strikes
- on a neighbouring clock, but my inattentive ear does not perceive it
- until several strokes have made themselves heard. Hence I have not
- counted them; and yet I only have to turn my attention backwards to
- count up the four strokes which have already sounded and add them to
- those which I hear. If, then, I question myself carefully on what has
- just taken place, I perceive that the first four sounds had struck
- my ear and even affected my consciousness, but that the sensations
- produced by each one of them, instead of being set side by side, had
- melted into one another in such a way as to give the whole a peculiar
- quality, to make a kind of musical phrase out of it. In order, then,
- to estimate retrospectively the number of strokes sounded, I tried to
- reconstruct this phrase in thought: my imagination made one stroke,
- then two, then three, and as long as it did not reach the exact number
- four, my feeling, when consulted, answered that the total effect was
- qualitatively different. It had thus ascertained in its own way the
- succession of four strokes, but quite otherwise than by a process
- of addition, and without bringing in the image of a juxtaposition of
- distinct terms. In a word, the number of strokes was perceived as a
- quality and not as a quantity: it is thus that duration is presented to
- immediate consciousness, and it retains this form so long as it does
- not give place to a symbolical representation derived from extensity.
- [Sidenote: There are therefore two forms of multiplicity, of duration
- and conscious life.]
- We should therefore distinguish two forms of multiplicity, two very
- different ways of regarding duration, two aspects of conscious life.
- Below homogeneous duration, which is the extensive symbol of true
- duration, a close psychological analysis distinguishes a duration
- whose heterogeneous moments permeate one another; below the numerical
- multiplicity of conscious states, a qualitative multiplicity; below
- the self with well-defined states, a self in which _succeeding each
- other_ means _melting into one another_ and forming an organic whole.
- But we are generally content with the first, i.e. with the shadow of
- the self projected into homogeneous space. Consciousness, goaded by an
- insatiable desire to separate, substitutes the symbol for the reality,
- or perceives the reality only through the symbol. As the self thus
- refracted, and thereby broken to pieces, is much better adapted to the
- requirements of social life in general and language in particular,
- consciousness prefers it, and gradually loses sight of the fundamental
- self.
- [Sidenote: The two aspects of our conscious states.]
- In order to recover this fundamental self, as the unsophisticated
- consciousness would perceive it, a vigorous effort of analysis is
- necessary, which will isolate the fluid inner states from their image,
- first refracted, then solidified in homogeneous space. In other words,
- our perceptions, sensations, emotions and ideas occur under two
- aspects: the one clear and precise, but impersonal; the other confused,
- ever changing, and inexpressible, because language cannot get hold
- of it without arresting its mobility or fit it into its common-place
- forms without making it into public property. If we have been led to
- distinguish two forms of multiplicity, two forms of duration, we must
- expect each conscious state, taken by itself, to assume a different
- aspect according as we consider it within a discrete multiplicity or a
- confused multiplicity, in the time as quality, in which it is produced,
- or in the time as quantity, into which it is projected.
- [Sidenote: One of which is due to the solidifying influence of external
- objects and language on our constantly changing feelings.]
- When e.g. I take my first walk in a town in which I am going to live,
- my environment produces on me two impressions at the same time, one
- of which is destined to last while the other will constantly change.
- Every day I perceive the same houses, and as I know that they are the
- same objects, I always call them by the same name and I also fancy
- that they always look the same to me. But if I recur, at the end of a
- sufficiently long period, to the impression which I experienced during
- the first few years, I am surprised at the remarkable, inexplicable,
- and indeed inexpressible change which has taken place. It seems that
- these objects, continually perceived by me and constantly impressing
- themselves on my mind, have ended by borrowing from me something of my
- own conscious existence; like myself they have lived, and like myself
- they have grown old. This is not a mere illusion; for if to-day's
- impression were absolutely identical with that of yesterday, what
- difference would there be between perceiving and recognizing, between
- learning and remembering? Yet this difference escapes the attention of
- most of us; we shall hardly perceive it, unless we are warned of it and
- then carefully look into ourselves. The reason is that our outer and,
- so to speak, social life is more practically important to us than our
- inner and individual existence. We instinctively tend to solidify our
- impressions in order to express them in language. Hence we confuse the
- feeling itself, which is in a perpetual state of becoming, with its
- permanent external object, and especially with the word which expresses
- this object. In the same way as the fleeting duration of our ego is
- fixed by its projection in homogeneous space, our constantly changing
- impressions, wrapping themselves round the external object which is
- their cause, take on its definite outlines and its immobility.
- [Sidenote: How language gives a fixed form to fleeting sensations.]
- Our simple sensations, taken in their natural state, are still more
- fleeting. Such and such a flavour, such and such a scent, pleased me
- when I was a child though I dislike them to-day. Yet I still give the
- same name to the sensation experienced, and I speak as if only my
- taste had changed, whilst the scent and the flavour have remained the
- same. Thus I again solidify the sensation; and when its changeableness
- becomes so obvious that I cannot help recognizing it, I abstract
- this changeableness to give it a name of its own and solidify it in
- the shape of a _taste._ But in reality there are neither identical
- sensations nor multiple tastes: for sensations and tastes seem to me
- to be _objects_ as soon as I isolate and name them, and in the human
- soul there are only _processes._ What I ought to say is that every
- sensation is altered by repetition, and that if it does not seem to
- me to change from day to day, it is because I perceive it through the
- object which is its cause, through the word which translates it. This
- influence of language on sensation is deeper than is usually thought.
- Not only does language make us believe in the unchangeableness of our
- sensations, but it will sometimes deceive us as to the nature of the
- sensation felt. Thus, when I partake of a dish that is supposed to be
- exquisite, the name which it bears, suggestive of the approval given to
- it, comes between my sensation and my consciousness; I may believe that
- the flavour pleases me when a slight effort of attention would prove
- the contrary, In short, the word with well-defined outlines, the rough
- and ready word, which stores up the stable, common, and consequently
- impersonal element in the impressions of mankind, overwhelms or
- at least covers over the delicate and fugitive impressions of our
- individual consciousness. To maintain the struggle on equal terms,
- the latter ought to express themselves in precise words; but these
- words, as soon as they were formed, would turn against the sensation
- which gave birth to them, and, invented to show that the sensation is
- unstable, they would impose on it their own stability.
- [Sidenote: How analysis and description distort the feelings.]
- This overwhelming of the immediate consciousness is nowhere so striking
- as in the case of our feelings. A violent love or a deep melancholy
- takes possession of our SOUL: here we feel a thousand different
- elements which dissolve into and permeate one another without any
- precise outlines, without the least tendency to externalize themselves
- in relation to one another; hence their originality. We distort them
- as soon as we distinguish a numerical multiplicity in their confused
- mass: what will it be, then, when we set them out, isolated from one
- another, in this homogeneous medium which may be called either time or
- space, whichever you prefer? A moment ago each of them was borrowing an
- indefinable colour from its surroundings: now we have it colourless,
- and ready to accept a name. The feeling itself is a being which
- lives and develops and is therefore constantly changing; otherwise
- how could it gradually lead us to form a resolution? Our resolution
- would be immediately taken. But it lives because the duration in
- which it develops is a duration whose moments permeate one another.
- By separating these moments from each other, by spreading out time in
- space, we have caused this feeling to lose its life and its colour.
- Hence, we are now standing before our own shadow: we believe that
- we have analysed our feeling, while we have really replaced it by a
- juxtaposition of lifeless states which can be translated into words,
- and each of which constitutes the common element, the impersonal
- residue, of the impressions felt in a given case by the whole of
- society. And this is why we reason about these states and apply our
- simple logic to them: having set them up as genera by the mere fact
- of having isolated them from one another, we have prepared them for
- use in some future deduction. Now, if some bold novelist, tearing
- aside the cleverly woven curtain of our conventional ego, shows us
- under this appearance of logic a fundamental absurdity, under this
- juxtaposition of simple states an infinite permeation of a thousand
- different impressions which have already ceased to exist the instant
- they are named, we commend him for having known us better than we
- knew ourselves. This is not the case, however, and the very fact that
- he spreads out our feeling in a homogeneous time, and expresses its
- elements by words, shows that he in his turn is only offering us its
- shadow: but he has arranged this shadow in such a way as to make us
- suspect the extraordinary and illogical nature of the object which
- projects it; he has made us reflect by giving outward expression to
- something of that contradiction, that interpenetration, which is the
- very essence of the elements expressed. Encouraged by him, we have
- put aside for an instant the veil which we interposed between our
- consciousness and ourselves. He has brought us back into our own
- presence.
- [Sidenote: On the surface our conscious states obey the laws of
- association. Deeper down they interpenetrate and form a part of
- ourselves.]
- We should experience the same sort of surprise if we strove to seize
- our ideas themselves in their natural state, as our consciousness would
- perceive them if it were no longer beset by space. This breaking up
- of the constituent elements of an idea, which issues in abstraction,
- is too convenient for us to do without it in ordinary life and even
- in philosophical discussion. But when we fancy that the parts thus
- artificially separated are the genuine threads with which the concrete
- idea was woven, when, substituting for the interpenetration of the real
- terms the juxtaposition of their symbols, we claim to make duration
- out of space, we unavoidably fall into the mistakes of associationism.
- We shall not insist on the latter point, which will be the subject of
- a thorough examination in the next chapter. Let it be enough to say
- that the impulsive zeal with which we take sides on certain questions
- shows how our intellect has its instincts--and what can an instinct
- of this kind be if not an impetus common to all our ideas, i.e. their
- very interpenetration? The beliefs to which we most strongly adhere are
- those of which we should find it most difficult to give an account, and
- the reasons by which we justify them are seldom those which have led
- us to adopt them. In a certain sense we have adopted them without any
- reason, for what makes them valuable in our eyes is that they match the
- colour of all our other ideas, and that from the very first we have
- seen in them something of ourselves. Hence they do not take in our
- minds that common looking form which they will assume as soon as we try
- to give expression to them in words; and, although they bear the same
- name in other minds, they are by no means the same thing. The fact is
- that each of them has the same kind of life as a cell in an organism:
- everything which affects the general state of the self affects it also.
- But while the cell occupies a definite point in the organism, an idea
- which is truly ours fills the whole of our self. Not all our ideas,
- however, are thus incorporated in the fluid mass of our conscious
- states. Many float on the surface, like dead leaves on the water of a
- pond: the mind, when it thinks them over and over again, finds them
- ever the same, as if they were external to it. Among these are the
- ideas which we receive ready made, and which remain in us without ever
- being properly assimilated, or again the ideas which we have omitted
- to cherish and which have withered in neglect. If, in proportion as we
- get away from the deeper strata of the self, our conscious states tend
- more and more to assume the form of a numerical multiplicity, and to
- spread out in a homogeneous space, it is just because these conscious
- states tend to become more and more lifeless, more and more impersonal.
- Hence we need not be surprised if only those ideas which least belong
- to us can be adequately expressed in words: only to these, as we shall
- see, does the associationist theory apply. External to one another,
- they keep up relations among themselves in which the inmost nature
- of each of them counts for nothing, relations which can therefore be
- classified. It may thus be said that they are associated by contiguity
- or for some logical reason. But if, digging below the surface of
- contact between the self and external objects, we penetrate into the
- depths of the organized and living intelligence, we shall witness the
- joining together or rather the blending of many ideas which, when once
- dissociated, seem to exclude one another as logically contradictory
- terms. The strangest dreams, in which two images overlie one another
- and show us at the same time two different persons, who yet make only
- one, will hardly give us an idea of the interweaving of concepts which
- goes on when we are awake. The imagination of the dreamer, cut off from
- the external world, imitates with mere images, and parodies in its own
- way, the process which constantly goes on with regard to ideas in the
- deeper regions of the intellectual life.
- [Sidenote: By separating our conscious states we promote social life,
- but raise problems soluble only by recourse to the concrete and living
- self.]
- Thus may be verified, thus, too, will be illustrated by a further
- study of deep-seated psychic phenomena the principle from which we
- started: conscious life displays two aspects according as we perceive
- it directly or by refraction through space. Considered in themselves,
- the deep-seated conscious states have no relation to quantity, they
- are pure quality; they intermingle in such a way that we cannot tell
- whether they are one or several, nor even examine them from this
- point of view without at once altering their nature. The duration
- which they thus create is a duration whose moments do not constitute
- a numerical multiplicity: to characterize these moments by saying
- that they encroach on one another would still be to distinguish them.
- If each of us lived a purely individual life, if there were neither
- society nor language, would our consciousness grasp the series of inner
- states in this unbroken form? Undoubtedly it would not quite succeed,
- because we should still retain the idea of a homogeneous space in
- which objects are sharply distinguished from one another, and because
- it is too convenient to set out in such a medium the somewhat cloudy
- states which first attract the attention of consciousness, in order
- to resolve them into simpler terms. But mark that the intuition of
- a homogeneous space is already a step towards social life. Probably
- animals do not picture to themselves, beside their sensations, as we
- do, an external world quite distinct from themselves, which is the
- common property of all conscious beings. Our tendency to form a clear
- picture of this externality of things and the homogeneity of their
- medium is the same as the impulse which leads us to live in common
- and to speak. But, in proportion as the conditions of social life are
- more completely realized, the current which carries our conscious
- states from within outwards is strengthened; little by little these
- states are made into objects or things; they break off not only from
- one another, but from ourselves. Henceforth we no longer perceive them
- except in the homogeneous medium in which we have set their image,
- and through the word which lends them its common-place colour. Thus a
- second self is formed which obscures the first, a self whose existence
- is made up of distinct moments, whose states are separated from one
- another and easily expressed in words. I do not mean, here, to split
- up the personality, nor to bring back in another form the numerical
- multiplicity which I shut out at the beginning. It is the same self
- which perceives distinct states at first, and which, by afterwards
- concentrating its attention, will see these states melt into one
- another like the crystals of a snow-flake when touched for some time
- with the finger. And, in truth, for the sake of language, the self has
- everything to gain by not bringing back confusion where order reigns,
- and in not upsetting this ingenious arrangement of almost impersonal
- states by which it has ceased to form "a kingdom within a kingdom."
- An inner life with well distinguished moments and with clearly
- characterized states will answer better the requirements of social
- life. Indeed, a superficial psychology may be content with describing
- it without thereby falling into error, on condition, however, that
- it restricts itself to the study of what has taken place and leaves
- out what is going on. But if, passing from statics to dynamics, this
- psychology claims to reason about things in the making as it reasoned
- about things made, if it offers us the concrete and living self as an
- association of terms which are distinct from one another and are set
- side by side in a homogeneous medium, it will see difficulty after
- difficulty rising in its path. And these difficulties will multiply
- the greater the efforts it makes to overcome them, for all its efforts
- will only bring into clearer light the absurdity of the fundamental
- hypothesis by which it spreads out time in space and puts succession at
- the very centre of simultaneity. We shall see that the contradictions
- implied in the problems of causality, freedom, personality, spring from
- no other source, and that, if we wish to get rid of them, we have only
- to go back to the real and concrete self and give up its symbolical
- substitute.
- [1] I had already completed the present work when I read in the
- _Critique philosophique_(for 1883 and 1884) F. Pillon's very remarkable
- refutation of an interesting article by G. Noël on the interconnexion
- of the notions of number and space. But I have not found it necessary
- to make any alterations in the following pages, seeing that Pillon does
- not distinguish between time as quality and time as quantity, between
- the multiplicity of juxtaposition and that of interpenetration. Without
- this vital distinction, which it is the chief aim of the present
- chapter to establish, it would be possible to maintain, with Pillon,
- that number may be built up from the relation of co-existence. But what
- is here meant by co-existence? If the co-existing terms form an organic
- whole, they will never lead us to the notion of number; if they remain
- distinct, they are in juxtaposition and we are dealing with space. It
- is no use to quote the example of simultaneous impressions received
- by several senses. We either leave these sensations their specific
- differences, which amounts to saying that we do not count them; or else
- we eliminate their differences, and then how are we to distinguish
- them if not by their position or that of their symbols? We shall see
- that the verb "to distinguish" has two meanings, the one qualitative,
- the other quantitative: these two meanings have been confused, in my
- opinion, by the philosophers who have dealt with the relations between
- number and space.
- [2] Évellin, _Infini et quantité._ Paris, 1881.
- CHAPTER III
- THE ORGANIZATION OF CONSCIOUS STATES
- FREE WILL
- [Sidenote: Mechanism, dynamism and free will.]
- It is easy to see why the question of free will brings into conflict
- these two rival systems of nature, mechanism and dynamism. Dynamism
- starts from the idea of voluntary activity, given by consciousness,
- and comes to represent inertia by gradually emptying this idea: it has
- thus no difficulty in conceiving free force on the one hand and matter
- governed by laws on the other. Mechanism follows the opposite course.
- It assumes that the materials which it synthesizes are governed by
- necessary laws, and although it reaches richer and richer combinations,
- which are more and more difficult to foresee, and to all appearance
- more and more contingent, yet it never gets out of the narrow circle of
- necessity within which it at first shut itself up.
- [Sidenote: For dynamism facts more real than laws: mechanism reverses
- this attitude. This idea of spontaneity simpler than that of inertia.]
- A thorough examination of these two conceptions of nature will show
- that they involve two very different hypotheses as to the relations
- between laws and the facts which they govern. As he looks higher and
- higher, the believer in dynamism thinks that he perceives facts which
- more and more elude the grasp of laws: he thus sets up the fact as the
- absolute reality, and the law as the more or less symbolical expression
- of this reality. Mechanism, on the contrary, discovers within the
- particular fact a certain number of laws of which the fact is thus made
- to be the meeting point, and nothing else: on this hypothesis it is the
- law which becomes the genuine reality. Now, if it is asked why the one
- party assigns a higher reality to the fact and the other to the law, it
- will be found that mechanism and dynamism take the word _simplicity_ in
- two very different senses. For the first, any principle is simple of
- which the effects can be foreseen and even calculated: thus, by the
- very definition, the notion of inertia becomes simpler than that of
- freedom, the homogeneous simpler than the heterogeneous, the abstract
- simpler than the concrete. But dynamism is not anxious so much to
- arrange the notions in the most convenient order as to find out their
- real relationship: often, in fact, the so-called simple notion--that
- which the believer in mechanism regards as primitive--has been obtained
- by the blending together of several richer notions which seem to be
- derived from it, and which have more or less neutralized one another
- in this very process of blending, just as darkness may be produced by
- the interference of two lights. Regarded from this new point of view,
- the idea of spontaneity is indisputably simpler than that of inertia,
- since the second can be understood and defined only by means of the
- first, while the first is self-sufficient. For each of us has the
- immediate knowledge (be it thought true or fallacious) of his free
- spontaneity, without the notion of inertia having anything to do with
- this knowledge. But, if we wish to define the inertia of matter, we
- must say that it cannot move or stop of its own accord, that every body
- perseveres in the state of rest or motion so long as it is not acted
- upon by any force: and in both cases we are unavoidably carried back
- to the idea of activity. It is therefore natural that, _a priori,_ we
- should reach two opposite conceptions of human activity, according to
- the way in which we understand the relation between the concrete and
- the abstract, the simple and the complex, facts and laws.
- [Sidenote: Determinism: (1) physical (2) psychological. Former
- reducible to latter, which itself rests on inaccurate conception of
- multiplicity of conscious states or duration.]
- _A posteriori,_ however, definite facts are appealed to against
- freedom, some physical, others psychological. Sometimes it is asserted
- that our actions are necessitated by our feelings, our ideas, and the
- whole preceding series of our conscious states; sometimes freedom
- is denounced as being incompatible with the fundamental properties
- of matter, and in particular with the principle of the conservation
- of energy. Hence two kinds of determinism, two apparently different
- empirical proofs of universal necessity. We shall show that the second
- of these two forms is reducible to the first, and that all determinism,
- even physical determinism, involves a psychological hypothesis: we
- shall then prove that psychological determinism itself, and the
- refutations which are given of it, rest on an inaccurate conception of
- the multiplicity of conscious states, or rather of duration. Thus, in
- the light of the principles worked out in the foregoing chapter, we
- shall see a self emerge whose activity cannot be compared to that of
- any other force.
- [Sidenote: Physical determinism stated in the language of the molecular
- theory of matter.]
- Physical determinism, in its latest form, is closely bound up with
- mechanical or rather kinetic theories of matter. The universe is
- pictured as a heap of matter which the imagination resolves into
- molecules and atoms. These particles are supposed to carry out
- unceasingly movements of every kind, sometimes of vibration, sometimes
- of translation; and physical phenomena, chemical action, the qualities
- of matter which our senses perceive, heat, sound, electricity, perhaps
- even attraction, are thought to be reducible objectively to these
- elementary movements. The matter which goes to make up organized
- bodies being subject to the same laws, we find in the nervous system,
- for example, only molecules and atoms which are in motion and attract
- and repel one another. Now if all bodies, organized or unorganized,
- thus act and react on one another in their ultimate parts, it is
- obvious that the molecular state of the brain at a given moment will
- be modified by the shocks which the nervous system receives from the
- surrounding matter, so that the sensations, feelings and ideas which
- succeed one another in us can be defined as mechanical resultants,
- obtained by the compounding of shocks received from without with the
- previous movements of the atoms of the nervous substance. But the
- opposite phenomenon may occur; and the molecular movements which go
- on in the nervous system, if compounded with one another or with
- others, will often give as resultant a reaction of our organism on its
- environment: hence the reflex movements, hence also the so-called free
- and voluntary actions. As, moreover, the principle of the conservation
- of energy has been assumed to admit of no exception, there is not an
- atom, either in the nervous system or in the whole of the universe,
- whose position is not determined by the sum of the mechanical actions
- which the other atoms exert upon it. And the mathematician who knew
- the position of the molecules or atoms of a human organism at a given
- moment, as well as the position and motion of all the atoms in the
- universe capable of influencing it, could calculate with unfailing
- certainty the past, present and future actions of the person to
- whom this organism belongs, just as one predicts an astronomical
- phenomenon.[1]
- [Sidenote: If principle of conservation of energy is universal,
- physiological and nervous phenomena are necessitated, but perhaps not
- conscious states.]
- We shall not raise any difficulty about recognizing that this
- conception of physiological phenomena in general, and nervous
- phenomena in particular, is a very natural deduction from the law of
- the conservation of energy. Certainly, the atomic theory of matter is
- still at the hypothetical stage, and the purely kinetic explanations
- of physical facts lose more than they gain by being too closely bound
- up with it. We must observe, however, that, even if we leave aside the
- atomic theory as well as any other hypothesis as to the nature of the
- ultimate elements of matter, the necessitating of physiological facts
- by their antecedents follows from the theorem of the conservation of
- energy, as soon as we extend this theorem to all processes going on in
- all living bodies. For to admit the universality of this theorem is
- to assume, at bottom, that the material points of which the universe
- is composed are subject solely to forces of attraction and repulsion,
- arising from these points themselves and possessing intensities which
- depend only on their distances: hence the relative position of these
- material points at a given moment--whatever be their nature--would
- be strictly determined by relation to what it was at the preceding
- moment. Let us then assume for a moment that this last hypothesis is
- true: we propose to show, in the first place, that it does not involve
- the absolute determination of our conscious states by one another, and
- then that the very universality of the principle of the conservation
- of energy cannot be admitted except in virtue of some psychological
- hypothesis.
- Sidenote: To prove conscious states determined, we should have to show
- a necessary connexion between them and cerebral states. No such proof.
- Even if we assumed that the position, the direction and the velocity of
- each atom of cerebral matter are determined at every moment of time, it
- would not at all follow that our psychic life is subject to the same
- necessity. For we should first have to prove that a strictly determined
- psychic state corresponds to a definite cerebral state, and the proof
- of this is still to be given. As a rule we do not think of demanding
- it, because we know that a definite vibration of the tympanum, a
- definite stimulation of the auditory nerve, gives a definite note on
- the scale, and because the parallelism of the physical and psychical
- series has been proved in a fairly large number of cases. But then,
- nobody has ever contended that we were free, under given conditions, to
- hear any note or perceive any colour we liked. Sensations of this kind,
- like many other psychic states, are obviously bound up with certain
- determining conditions, and it is just for this reason that it has been
- possible to imagine or discover beneath them a system of movements
- which obey our abstract mechanics. In short, wherever we succeed in
- giving a mechanical explanation, we observe a fairly strict parallelism
- between the physiological and the psychological series, and we need not
- be surprised at it, since explanations of this kind will assuredly not
- be met with except where the two series exhibit parallel terms. But
- to extend this parallelism to the series themselves in their totality
- is to settle _a priori_ the problem of freedom. Certainly this may be
- done, and some of the greatest thinkers have set the example; but then,
- as we said at first, it was not for reasons of a physical order that
- they asserted the strict correspondence between states of consciousness
- and modes of extension. Leibniz ascribed it to a preestablished
- harmony, and would never have admitted that a motion could give rise
- to a perception as a cause produces an effect. Spinoza said that the
- modes of thought and the modes of extension correspond with but never
- influence one another: they only express in two different languages the
- same eternal truth. But the theories of physical determinism which are
- rife at the present day are far from displaying the same clearness,
- the same geometrical rigour. They point to molecular movements taking
- place in the brain: consciousness is supposed to arise out of these
- at times in some mysterious way, or rather to follow their track like
- the phosphorescent line which results from the rubbing of a match. Or
- yet again we are to think of an invisible musician playing behind the
- scenes while the actor strikes a keyboard the notes of which yield no
- sound: consciousness must be supposed to come from an unknown region
- and to be superimposed on the molecular vibrations, just as the melody
- is on the rhythmical movements of the actor. But, whatever image
- we fall back upon, we do not prove and we never shall prove by any
- reasoning that the psychic fact is fatally determined by the molecular
- movement. For in a movement we may find the reason of another movement,
- but not the reason of a conscious state: only observation can prove
- that the latter accompanies the former. Now the unvarying conjunction
- of the two terms has not been verified by experience except in a very
- limited number of cases and with regard to facts which all confess to
- be almost independent of the will. But it is easy to understand why
- physical determinism extends this conjunction to all possible cases.
- [Sidenote: Physical determinism, when assumed to be universal,
- postulates psychological determinism.]
- Consciousness indeed informs us that the majority of our actions can
- be explained by motives. But it does not appear that determination
- here means necessity, since common sense believes in free will. The
- determinist, however, led astray by a conception of duration and
- causality which we shall criticise a little later, holds that the
- determination of conscious states by one another is absolute. This is
- the origin of associationist determinism, an hypothesis in support of
- which the testimony of consciousness is appealed to, but which cannot,
- in the beginning, lay claim to scientific rigour. It seems natural
- that this, so to speak, approximate determinism, this determinism of
- quality, should seek support from the same mechanism that underlies
- the phenomena of nature: the latter would thus convey to the former
- its own geometrical character, and the transaction would be to the
- advantage both of psychological determinism, which would emerge from it
- in a stricter form, and of physical mechanism, which would then spread
- over everything. A fortunate circumstance favours this alliance. The
- simplest psychic states do in fact occur as accessories to well-defined
- physical phenomena, and the greater number of sensations seem to be
- bound up with definite molecular movements. This mere beginning of an
- experimental proof is quite enough for the man who, for psychological
- reasons, is already convinced that our conscious states are the
- necessary outcome of the circumstances under which they happen.
- Henceforth he no longer hesitates to hold that the drama enacted in the
- theatre of consciousness is a literal and even slavish translation of
- some scenes performed by the molecules and atoms of organized matter.
- The physical determinism which is reached in this way is nothing but
- psychological determinism, seeking to verify itself and fix its own
- outlines by an appeal to the sciences of nature.
- [Sidenote: Is the principle of conservation of energy universal valid?]
- But we must own that the amount of freedom which is left to us after
- strictly complying with the principle of the conservation of energy is
- rather limited. For, even if this law does not exert a necessitating
- influence over the course of our ideas, it will at least determine our
- movements. Our inner life will still depend upon ourselves up to a
- certain point; but, to an outside observer, there will be nothing to
- distinguish our activity from absolute automatism. We are thus led to
- inquire whether the very extension of the principle of the conservation
- of energy to all the bodies in nature does not itself involve some
- psychological theory, and whether the scientist who did not possess _a
- priori_ any prejudice against human freedom would think of setting up
- this principle as a universal law.
- [Sidenote: It implies that a system can return to its original state.
- Neglects duration, hence inapplicable to living beings and conscious
- states.]
- We must not overrate the part played by the principle of the
- conservation of energy in the history of the natural sciences. In its
- present form it marks a certain phase in the evolution of certain
- sciences; but it has not been the governing factor in this evolution
- and we should be wrong in making it the indispensable postulate of all
- scientific research. Certainly, every mathematical operation which we
- carry out on a given quantity implies the permanence of this quantity
- throughout the course of the operation, in whatever way we may split
- it up. In other words, what is given is given, what is not given is
- not given, and in whatever order we add up the same terms we shall
- get the same result. Science will for ever remain subject to this
- law, which is nothing but the law of non-contradiction; but this law
- does not involve any special hypothesis as to the nature of what we
- ought to take as given, or what will remain constant. No doubt it
- informs us that something cannot come from nothing; but experience
- alone will tell us which aspects or functions of reality must count for
- something, and which for nothing, from the point of view of positive
- science. In short, in order to foresee the state of a determinate
- system at a determinate moment, it is absolutely necessary that
- something should persist as a constant quantity throughout a series
- of combinations; but it belongs to experience to decide as to the
- nature of this something, and especially to let us know whether it is
- found in all possible systems, whether, in other words, all possible
- systems lend themselves to our calculations. It is not certain that
- all the physicists before Leibniz believed, like Descartes, in the
- conservation of a fixed quantity of motion in the universe: were their
- discoveries less valuable on this account or their researches less
- successful? Even when Leibniz had substituted for this principle that
- of the conservation of _vis viva,_ it was not possible to regard the
- law as quite general, since it admitted of an obvious exception in the
- case of the direct impact of two inelastic bodies. Thus science has
- done for a very long time without a universal conservative principle.
- In its present form, and since the development of the mechanical theory
- of heat, the principle of the conservation of energy certainly seems
- to apply to the whole range of physico-chemical phenomena. But no one
- can tell whether the study of physiological phenomena in general, and
- of nervous phenomena in particular, will not reveal to us, besides the
- _vis viva_ or kinetic energy of which Leibniz spoke, and the potential
- energy which was a later and necessary adjunct, some new kind of energy
- which may differ from the other two by rebelling against calculation.
- Physical science would not thereby lose any of its exactitude or
- geometrical rigour, as has lately been asserted: only it would be
- realized that conservative systems are not the only systems possible,
- and even, perhaps, that in the whole of concrete reality each of these
- systems plays the same part as the chemist's atom in bodies and their
- combinations. Let us note that the most radical of mechanical theories
- is that which makes consciousness an _epiphenomenon_ which, in given
- circumstances, may supervene on certain molecular movements. But, if
- molecular movement can create sensation out of a zero of consciousness,
- why should not consciousness in its turn create movement either out of
- a zero of kinetic and potential energy, or by making use of this energy
- in its own way? Let us also note that the law of the conservation
- of energy can only be intelligibly applied to a system of which the
- points, after moving, can return to their former positions. This return
- is at least conceived of as possible, and it is supposed that under
- these conditions nothing would be changed in the original state of
- the system as a whole or of its elements. In short, time cannot bite
- into it; and the instinctive, though vague, belief of mankind in the
- conservation of a fixed quantity of matter, a fixed quantity of energy,
- perhaps has its root in the very fact that inert matter does not seem
- to endure or to preserve any trace of past time. But this is not the
- case in the realm of life. Here duration certainly seems to act like a
- cause, and the idea of putting things back in their place at the end
- of a certain time involves a kind of absurdity, since such a turning
- backwards has never been accomplished in the case of a living being.
- But let us admit that the absurdity is a mere appearance, and that the
- impossibility for living beings to come back to the past is simply
- owing to the fact that the physico-chemical phenomena which take place
- in living bodies, being infinitely complex, have no chance of ever
- occurring again all at the same time: at least it will be granted to
- us that the hypothesis of a turning backwards is almost meaningless
- in the sphere of conscious states. A sensation, by the mere fact of
- being prolonged, is altered to the point of becoming unbearable. The
- same does not here remain the same, but is reinforced and swollen
- by the whole of its past. In short, while the material point, as
- mechanics understands it, remains in an eternal present, the past
- is a reality perhaps for living bodies, and certainly for conscious
- beings. While past time is neither a gain nor a loss for a system
- assumed to be conservative, it may be a gain for the living being, and
- it is indisputably one for the conscious being. Such being the case,
- is there not much to be said for the hypothesis of a conscious force
- or free will, which, subject to the action of time and storing up
- duration, may thereby escape the law of the conservation of energy?
- [Sidenote: The idea of the universality of conservation depends on
- confusion between concrete duration and abstract time.]
- In truth, it is not a wish to meet the requirements of positive
- science, but rather a psychological mistake which has caused this
- abstract principle of mechanics to be set up as a universal law. As
- we are not accustomed to observe ourselves directly, but perceive
- ourselves through forms borrowed from the external world, we are led
- to believe that real duration, the duration lived by consciousness,
- is the same as the duration which glides over the inert atoms without
- penetrating and altering them. Hence it is that we do not see any
- absurdity in putting things back in their place after a lapse of time,
- in supposing the same motives acting afresh on the same persons, and
- in concluding that these causes would again produce the same effect.
- That such an hypothesis has no real meaning is what we shall prove
- later on. For the present let us simply show that, if once we enter
- upon this path, we are of course led to set up the principle of the
- conservation of energy as a universal law. For we have thereby got
- rid of just that difference between the outer and the inner world
- which a close examination shows to be the main one: we have identified
- true duration with apparent duration. After this it would be absurd
- to consider time, even _our_ time, as a cause of gain or loss, as a
- concrete reality, or a force in its own way. Thus, while we ought only
- to say (if we kept aloof from all presuppositions concerning free will)
- that the law of the conservation of energy governs physical phenomena
- and _may,_ one day, be extended to all phenomena if psychological facts
- also prove favourable to it, we go far beyond this, and, under the
- influence of a metaphysical prepossession, we lay down the principle of
- the conservation of energy as a law which _should_ govern all phenomena
- whatever, or must be supposed to do so until psychological facts have
- actually spoken against it. Science, properly so called, has therefore
- nothing to do with all this. We are simply confronted with a confusion
- between concrete duration and abstract time, two very different things.
- In a word, the so-called physical determinism is reducible at bottom
- to a psychological determinism, and it is this latter doctrine, as we
- hinted at first, that we have to examine.
- [Sidenote: Psychological determinism depends on associationist
- conception of mind.]
- Psychological determinism, in its latest and most precise shape,
- implies an associationist conception of mind. The existing state of
- consciousness is first thought of as necessitated by the preceding
- states, but it is soon realized that this cannot be a geometrical
- necessity, such as that which connects a resultant, for example, with
- its components. For between successive conscious states there exists
- a difference of quality which will always frustrate any attempt to
- deduce any one of them _a priori_ from its predecessors. So experience
- is appealed to, with the object of showing that the transition from
- one psychic state to another can always be explained by some simple
- reason, the second obeying as it were the call of the first. Experience
- really does show this: and, as for ourselves, we shall willingly admit
- that there always is some relation between the existing state of
- consciousness and any new state to which consciousness passes. But is
- this relation, which explains the transition, the cause of it?
- [Sidenote: The series of associations may be merely an ex post facto
- attempt to account for a new idea.]
- May we here give an account of what we have personally observed? In
- resuming a conversation which had been interrupted for a few moments
- we have happened to notice that both we ourselves and our friend were
- thinking of some new object at the same time.--The reason is, it
- will be said, that each has followed up for his own part the natural
- development of the idea at which the conversation had stopped: the
- same series of associations has been formed on both sides.--No doubt
- this interpretation holds good in a fairly large number of cases;
- careful inquiry, however, has led us to an unexpected result. It is a
- fact that the two speakers do connect the new subject of conversation
- with the former one: they will even point out the intervening ideas;
- but, curiously enough, they will not always connect the new idea,
- which they have both reached, with the same point of the preceding
- conversation, and the two series of intervening associations may be
- quite different. What are we to conclude from this, if not that this
- common idea is due to an unknown cause--perhaps to some physical
- influence--and that, in order to justify its emergence, it has called
- forth a series of antecedents which explain it and which seem to be its
- cause, but are really its effect?
- [Sidenote: Illustration from hypnotic suggestion.]
- When a patient carries out at the appointed time the suggestion
- received in the hypnotic state, the act which he performs is brought
- about, according to him, by the preceding series of his conscious
- states. Yet these states are really effects, and not causes: it was
- necessary that the act should take place; it was also necessary that
- the patient should explain it to himself; and it is the future act
- which determined, by a kind of attraction, the whole series of psychic
- states of which it is to be the natural consequence. The determinists
- will seize on this argument: it proves as a matter of fact that we are
- sometimes irresistibly subject to another's will. But does it not also
- show us how our own will is capable of willing for willing's sake, and
- of then leaving the act which has been performed to be explained by
- antecedents of which it has really been the cause?
- [Sidenote: Illustration from deliberation.]
- If we question ourselves carefully, we shall see that we sometimes
- weigh motives and deliberate over them, when our mind is already
- made up. An inner voice, hardly perceivable, whispers: "Why this
- deliberation? You know the result and you are quite certain of what
- you are going to do." But no matter! it seems that we make a point
- of safe-guarding the principle of mechanism and of conforming to the
- laws of the association of ideas. The abrupt intervention of the will
- is a kind of _coup d'état_ which our mind foresees and which it tries
- to legitimate beforehand by a formal deliberation. True, it could be
- asked whether the will, even when it wills for willing's sake, does
- not obey some decisive reason, and whether willing for willing's sake
- is free willing. We shall not insist on this point for the moment.
- It will be enough for us to have shown that, even when adopting the
- point of view of associationism, it is difficult to maintain that an
- act is absolutely determined by its motive and our conscious states
- by one another. Beneath these deceptive appearances a more attentive
- psychology sometimes reveals to us effects which precede their causes,
- and phenomena of psychic attraction which elude the known laws of the
- association of ideas. But the time has come to ask whether the very
- point of view which associationism adopts does not involve a defective
- conception of the self and of the multiplicity of conscious states.
- [Sidenote: Associationism involves a defective conception of the self.]
- Associationist determinism represents the self as a collection
- of psychic states, the strongest of which exerts a prevailing
- influence and carries the others with it. This doctrine thus sharply
- distinguishes co-existing psychic phenomena from one another. "I could
- have abstained from murder," says Stuart Mill, "if my aversion to
- the crime and my dread of its consequences had been weaker than the
- temptation which impelled me to commit it."[2] And a little further
- on: "His desire to do right and his aversion to doing wrong are
- strong enough to overcome ... any other desire or aversion which may
- conflict with them."[3] Thus desire, aversion, fear, temptation are
- here presented as distinct things which there is no inconvenience in
- naming separately. Even when he connects these states with the self
- which experiences them, the English philosopher still insists on
- setting up clear-cut distinctions: "The conflict is between me and
- myself; between (for instance) me desiring a pleasure and me dreading
- self-reproach."[4] Bain, for his part, devotes a whole chapter to the
- "Conflict of Motives."[5] In it he balances pleasures and pains as so
- many terms to which one might attribute, at least by abstraction, an
- existence of their own. Note that the opponents of determinism agree
- to follow it into this field. They too speak of associations of ideas
- and conflicts of motives, and one of the ablest of these philosophers,
- Alfred Fouillée, goes so far as to make the idea of freedom itself a
- motive capable of counterbalancing others.[6] Here, however, lies the
- danger. Both parties commit themselves to a confusion which arises from
- language, and which is due to the fact that language is not meant to
- convey all the delicate shades of inner states.
- [Sidenote: This erroneous tendency aided by language. Illustration.]
- I rise, for example, to open the window, and I have hardly stood up
- before I forget what I had to do.--All right, it will be said; you
- have associated two ideas, that of an end to be attained and that of a
- movement to be accomplished: one of the ideas has vanished and only the
- idea of the movement remains.--However, I do not sit down again; I have
- a confused feeling that something remains to be done. This particular
- standing still, therefore, is not the same as any other standing still;
- in the position which I take up the act to be performed is as it were
- prefigured, so that I have only to keep this position, to study it,
- or rather to feel it intimately, in order to recover the idea which
- had vanished for a moment. Hence, this idea must have tinged with a
- certain particular colouring the mental image of the intended movement
- and the position taken up, and this colouring, without doubt, would
- not have been the same if the end to be attained had been different.
- Nevertheless language would have still expressed the movement and the
- position in the same way; and associationism would have distinguished
- the two cases by saying that with the idea of the same movement there
- was associated this time the idea of a new end: as if the mere newness
- of the end to be attained did not alter in some degree the idea of the
- movement to be performed, even though the movement itself remained the
- same! We should thus say, not that the image of a certain position
- can be connected in consciousness with images of different ends to be
- attained, but rather that positions geometrically identical outside
- look different to consciousness from the inside, according to the end
- contemplated. The mistake of associationism is that it first did away
- with the qualitative element in the act to be performed and retained
- only the geometrical and impersonal element: with the idea of this
- act, thus rendered colourless, it was then necessary to associate
- some specific difference to distinguish it from many other acts. But
- this association is the work of the associationist philosopher who is
- studying my mind, rather than of my mind itself.
- [Sidenote: Illustration from "associations" of smell.]
- I smell a rose and immediately confused recollections of childhood come
- back to my memory. In truth, these recollections have not been called
- up by the perfume of the rose: I breathe them in with the very scent;
- it means all that to me. To others it will smell differently.--It is
- always the same scent, you will say, but associated with different
- ideas.--I am quite willing that you should express yourself in this
- way; but do not forget that you have first removed the personal
- element from the different impressions which the rose makes on each
- one of us; you have retained only the objective aspect, that part of
- the scent of the rose which is public property and thereby belongs
- to space. Only thus was it possible to give a name to the rose and
- its perfume. You then found it necessary, in order to distinguish our
- personal impressions from one another, to add specific characteristics
- to the general idea of rose-scent. And you now say that our different
- impressions, our personal impressions, result from the fact that we
- associate different recollections with rose-scent. But the association
- of which you speak hardly exists except for you, and as a method of
- explanation. It is in this way that, by setting side by side certain
- letters of an alphabet common to a number of known languages, we may
- imitate fairly well such and such a characteristic sound belonging to a
- new one; but not with any of these letters, nor with all of them, has
- the sound itself been built up.
- [Sidenote: Associationism fails to distinguish between the multiplicity
- of juxtaposition and that of fusion.]
- We are thus brought back to the distinction which we set up above
- between the multiplicity of juxtaposition and that of fusion or
- interpenetration. Such and such a feeling such and such an idea,
- contains an indefinite plurality of conscious states: but the plurality
- will not be observed unless it is, as it were, spread out in this
- homogeneous medium which some call duration, but which is in reality
- space. We shall then perceive terms external to one another, and these
- terms will no longer be the states of consciousness themselves, but
- their symbols, or, speaking more exactly, the words which express
- them. There is, as we have pointed out, a close connexion between the
- faculty of conceiving a homogeneous medium, such as space, and that
- of thinking by means of general ideas. As soon as we try to give an
- account of a conscious state, to analyse it, this state, which is above
- all personal, will be resolved into impersonal elements external to one
- another, each of which calls up the idea of a genus and is expressed
- by a word. But because our reason, equipped with the idea of space
- and the power of creating symbols, draws these multiple elements out
- of the whole, it does not follow that they were contained in it. For
- within the whole they did not occupy space and did not care to express
- themselves by means of symbols; they permeated and melted into one
- another. Associationism thus makes the mistake of constantly replacing
- the concrete phenomenon which takes place in the mind by the artificial
- reconstruction of it given by philosophy, and of thus confusing the
- explanation of the fact with the fact itself. We shall perceive this
- more clearly as we consider deeper and more comprehensive psychic
- states.
- [Sidenote: Failure of associationism to explain the deeper states of
- the self.]
- The self comes into contact with the external world at its surface;
- and as this surface retains the imprint of objects, the self will
- associate by contiguity terms which it has perceived in juxtaposition:
- it is connexions of this kind, connexions of quite simple and so to
- speak impersonal sensations, that the associationist theory fits. But,
- just in proportion as we dig below the surface and get down to the real
- self, do its states of consciousness cease to stand in juxtaposition
- and begin to permeate and melt into one another, and each to be tinged
- with the colouring of all the others. Thus each of us has his own way
- of loving and hating; and this love or this hatred reflects his whole
- personality. Language, however, denotes these states by the same words
- in every case: so that it has been able to fix only the objective and
- impersonal aspect of love, hate, and the thousand emotions which stir
- the soul. We estimate the talent of a novelist by the power with which
- he lifts out of the common domain, to which language had thus brought
- them down, feelings and ideas to which he strives to restore, by adding
- detail to detail, their original and living individuality. But just as
- we can go on inserting points between two positions of a moving body
- without ever filling up the space traversed, in the same way, by the
- mere fact that we associate states with states and that these states
- are set side by side instead of permeating one another, we fail to
- translate completely what our soul experiences: there is no common
- measure between mind and language.
- [Sidenote: The self is not an aggregate of conscious states. Freedom
- is self-expression, admitting of degrees, and may be curtailed by
- education.]
- Therefore, it is only an inaccurate psychology, misled by language,
- which will show us the soul determined by sympathy, aversion, or hate
- as though by so many forces pressing upon it. These feelings, provided
- that they go deep enough, each make up the whole soul, since the whole
- content of the soul is reflected in each of them. To say that the soul
- is determined under the influence of any one of these feelings is thus
- to recognize that it is self-determined. The associationist reduces the
- self to an aggregate of conscious states: sensations, feelings, and
- ideas. But if he sees in these various states no more than is expressed
- in their name, if he retains only their impersonal aspect, he may set
- them side by side for ever without getting anything but a phantom
- self, the shadow of the ego projecting itself into space. If, on the
- contrary, he takes these psychic states with the particular colouring
- which they assume in the case of a definite person, and which comes
- to each of them by reflection from all the others, then there is no
- need to associate a number of conscious states in order to rebuild the
- person, for the whole personality is in a single one of them, provided
- that we know how to choose it. And the outward manifestation of this
- inner state will be just what is called a free act, since the self
- alone will have been the author of it, and since it will express the
- whole of the self. Freedom, thus understood, is not _absolute,_ as a
- radically libertarian philosophy would have it; it admits of degrees.
- For it is by no means the case that all conscious states blend with
- one another as raindrops with the water of a lake. The self, in so
- far as it has to do with a homogeneous space, develops on a kind of
- surface, and on this surface independent growths may form and float.
- Thus a suggestion received in the hypnotic state is not incorporated in
- the mass of conscious states, but, endowed with a life of its own, it
- will usurp the whole personality when its time comes. A violent anger
- roused by some accidental circumstance, an hereditary vice suddenly
- emerging from the obscure depths of the organism to the surface of
- consciousness, will act almost like a hypnotic suggestion. Alongside
- these independent elements there may be found more complex series,
- the terms of which do permeate one another, but which never succeed
- in blending perfectly with the whole mass of the self. Such is the
- system of feelings and ideas which are the result of an education not
- properly assimilated, an education which appeals to the memory rather
- than to the judgment. Here will be found, within the fundamental self,
- a parasitic self which continually encroaches upon the other. Many
- live this kind of life, and die without having known true freedom.
- But suggestion would become persuasion if the entire self assimilated
- it; passion, even sudden passion, would no longer bear the stamp of
- fatality if the whole history of the person were reflected in it, as
- in the indignation of Alceste;[7] and the most authoritative education
- would not curtail any of our freedom if it only imparted to us ideas
- and feelings capable of impregnating the whole soul. It is the whole
- soul, in fact, which gives rise to the free decision: and the act will
- be so much the freer the more the dynamic series with which it is
- connected tends to be the fundamental self.
- [Sidenote: Our every-day acts obey the laws of association. At
- great great crises our decisions are really free as expressing the
- fundamental self.]
- Thus understood, free acts are exceptional, even on the part of those
- who are most given to controlling and reasoning out what they do.
- It has been pointed out that we generally perceive our own self by
- refraction through space, that our conscious states crystallize into
- words, and that our living and concrete self thus gets covered with
- an outer crust of clean-cut psychic states, which are separated from
- one another and consequently fixed. We added that, for the convenience
- of language and the promotion of social relations, we have everything
- to gain by not breaking through this crust and by assuming it to
- give an exact outline of the form of the object which it covers. It
- should now be added that our daily actions are called forth not so
- much by our feelings themselves, which are constantly changing, as
- by the unchanging images with which these feelings are bound up. In
- the morning, when the hour strikes at which I am accustomed to rise,
- I might receive this impression σὺν ὄλῃ τῇ ψυχῆ, as Plato says; I
- might let it blend with the confused mass of impressions which fill
- my mind; perhaps in that case it would not determine me to act. But
- generally this impression, instead of disturbing my whole consciousness
- like a stone which falls into the water of a pond, merely stirs up
- an idea which is, so to speak, solidified on the surface, the idea
- of rising and attending to my usual occupations. This impression and
- this idea have in the end become tied up with one another, so that the
- act follows the impression without the self interfering with it. In
- this instance I am a conscious automaton, and I am so because I have
- everything to gain by being so. It will be found that the majority
- of our daily actions are performed in this way and that, owing to
- the solidification in memory of such and such sensations, feelings,
- or ideas, impressions from the outside call forth movements on our
- part which, though conscious and even intelligent, have many points
- of resemblance with reflex acts. It is to these acts, which are very
- numerous but for the most part insignificant, that the associationist
- theory is applicable. They are, taken all together, the substratum
- of our free activity, and with respect to this activity they play
- the same part as our organic functions in relation to the whole of
- our conscious life. Moreover we will grant to determinism that we
- often resign our freedom in more serious circumstances, and that, by
- sluggishness or indolence, we allow this same local process to run
- its course when our whole personality ought, so to speak, to vibrate.
- When our most trustworthy friends agree in advising us to take some
- important step, the sentiments which they utter with so much insistence
- lodge on the surface of our ego and there get solidified in the same
- way as the ideas of which we spoke just now. Little by little they
- will form a thick crust which will cover up our own sentiments; we
- shall believe that we are acting freely, and it is only by looking back
- to the past, later on, that we shall see how much we were mistaken.
- But then, at the very minute when the act is going to be performed,
- _something_ may revolt against it. It is the deep-seated self rushing
- up to the surface. It is the outer crust bursting, suddenly giving
- way to an irresistible thrust. Hence in the depths of the self, below
- this most reasonable pondering over most reasonable pieces of advice,
- something else was going on--a gradual heating and a sudden boiling
- over of feelings and ideas, not unperceived, but rather unnoticed. If
- we turn back to them and carefully scrutinize our memory, we shall
- see that we had ourselves shaped these ideas, ourselves lived these
- feelings, but that, through some strange reluctance to exercise our
- will, we had thrust them back into the darkest depths of our soul
- whenever they came up to the surface. And this is why we seek in vain
- to explain our sudden change of mind by the visible circumstances
- which preceded it. We wish to know the reason why we have made up our
- mind, and we find that we have decided without any reason, and perhaps
- even against every reason. But, in certain cases, that is the best of
- reasons. For the action which has been performed does not then express
- some superficial idea, almost external to ourselves, distinct and easy
- to account for: it agrees with the whole of our most intimate feelings,
- thoughts and aspirations, with that particular conception of life which
- is the equivalent of all our past experience, in a word, with our
- personal idea of happiness and of honour. Hence it has been a mistake
- to look for examples in the ordinary and even indifferent circumstances
- of life in order to prove that man is capable of choosing without a
- motive. It might easily be shown that these insignificant actions are
- bound up with some determining reason. It is at the great and solemn
- crisis, decisive of our reputation with others, and yet more with
- ourselves, that we choose in defiance of what is conventionally called
- a motive, and this absence of any tangible reason is the more striking
- the deeper our freedom goes.
- [Sidenote: Determinism sets on the one side the ego, always
- self-identical and on the other contrary feelings. But this is mere
- symbolism.]
- But the determinist, even when he refrains from regarding the more
- serious emotions or deep-seated psychic states as forces, nevertheless
- distinguishes them from one another and is thus led to a mechanical
- conception of the self. He will show us this self hesitating between
- two contrary feelings, passing from one to the other and finally
- deciding in favour of one of them. The self and the feelings which stir
- it are thus treated as well defined objects, which remain identical
- during the whole of the process. But if it is always the same self
- which deliberates, and if the two opposite feelings by which it is
- moved do not change, how, in virtue of this very principle of causality
- which determinism appeals to, will the self ever come to a decision?
- The truth is that the self, by the mere fact of experiencing the
- first feeling, has already changed to a slight extent when the second
- supervenes: all the time that the deliberation is going on, the self is
- changing and is consequently modifying the two feelings which agitate
- it. A dynamic series of states is thus formed which permeate and
- strengthen one another, and which will lead by a natural evolution to a
- free act. But determinism, ever craving for symbolical representation,
- cannot help substituting words for the opposite feelings which share
- the ego between them, as well as for the ego itself. By giving first
- the person and then the feelings by which he is moved a fixed form
- by means of sharply defined words, it deprives them in advance of
- every kind of living activity. It will then see on the one side
- an ego always self-identical, and on the other contrary feelings,
- also self-identical, which dispute for its possession; victory will
- necessarily belong to the stronger. But this mechanism, to which we
- have condemned ourselves in advance, has no value beyond that of a
- symbolical representation: it cannot hold good against the witness of
- an attentive consciousness, which shows us inner dynamism as a fact.
- [Sidenote: Freedom and character. The determinist next asks, could your
- act have been different or can it be foretold?]
- In short, we are free when our acts spring from our whole personality,
- when they express it, when that indefinable resemblance to it which
- one sometimes finds between the artist and his work. It is no use
- asserting that we are then yielding to the all-powerful influence of
- our character. Our character is still ourselves; and because we are
- pleased to split the person into two parts so that by an effort of
- abstraction we may consider in turn the self which feels or thinks
- and the self which acts, it would be very strange to conclude that
- one of the two selves is coercing the other. Those who ask whether
- we are free to alter our character lay themselves open to the same
- objection. Certainly our character is altering imperceptibly every day,
- and our freedom would suffer if these new acquisitions were grafted
- on to our self and not blended with it. But, as soon as this blending
- takes place, it must be admitted that the change which has supervened
- in our character belongs to us, that we have appropriated it. In a
- word, if it is agreed to call every act free which springs from the
- self and from the self alone, the act which bears the mark of our
- personality is truly free, for our self alone will lay claim to its
- paternity. It would thus be recognized that free will is a fact, if it
- were agreed to look for it in a certain characteristic of the decision
- which is taken, in the free act itself. But the determinist feeling
- that he cannot retain his hold on this position, takes refuge in the
- past or the future. Sometimes he transfers himself in thought to some
- earlier period and asserts the necessary determination, from this very
- moment, of the act which is to come; sometimes, assuming in advance
- that the act is already performed, he claims that it could not have
- taken place in any other way. The opponents of determinism themselves
- willingly follow it on to this new ground and agree to introduce into
- their definition of our free act -perhaps not without some risk--the
- anticipation of what we might do and the recollection of some other
- decision which we might have taken. It is advisable, then, that we
- should place ourselves at this new point of view, and, setting aside
- all translation into words, all symbolism in space, attend to what pure
- consciousness alone shows us about an action that has come to pass or
- an action which is still to come. The original error of determinism and
- the mistake of its opponents will thus be grasped on another side, in
- so far as they bear explicitly on a certain misconception of duration.
- [Sidenote: Determinist and libertarian doctrines of possible acts.]
- "To be conscious of free will," says Stuart Mill, "must mean to be
- conscious, before I have decided, that I am able to decide either
- way.[8] This is really the way in which the defenders of free will
- understand it; and they assert that when we perform an action freely,
- some other action would have been "equally possible." On this point
- they appeal to the testimony of consciousness, which shows us, beyond
- the act itself, the power of deciding in favour of the opposite
- course. Inversely, determinism claims that, given certain antecedents,
- only one resultant action was possible. "When we think of ourselves
- hypothetically," Stuart Mill goes on, "as having acted otherwise
- than we did, we always suppose a difference in the antecedents. We
- picture ourselves as having known something that we did not know,
- or not known something that we did know."[9] And, faithful to his
- principle, the English philosopher assigns consciousness the rôle of
- informing us about what is, not about what might be. We shall not
- insist for the moment on this last point: we reserve the question
- in what sense the ego perceives itself as a determining cause. But
- beside this psychological question there is another, belonging rather
- to metaphysics, which the determinists and their opponents solve _a
- priori_ along opposite lines. The argument of the former implies that
- there is only one possible act corresponding to given antecedents: the
- believers in free will assume, on the other hand, that the same series
- could issue in several different acts, equally possible. It is on this
- question of the equal possibility of two contrary actions or volitions
- that we shall first dwell: perhaps we shall thus gather some indication
- as to the nature of the operation by which the will makes its choice.
- [Sidenote: Geometrical (and thereby deceptive) representation of the
- process of coming to a decision.]
- I hesitate between two possible actions X and Y, and I go in turn from
- one to the other. This means that I pass through a series of states,
- and that these states can be divided into two groups according as I
- incline more towards X or in the contrary direction. Indeed, these
- opposite inclinations alone have a real existence, and X and Y are two
- symbols by which I represent at their arrival-or termination-points,
- so to speak, two different tendencies of my personality at successive
- moments of duration. Let us then rather denote the tendencies
- themselves by X and Y; will this new notation give a more faithful
- image of the concrete reality? It must be noticed, as we said above,
- that the self grows, expands, and changes as it passes through the
- two contrary states: if not, how would it ever come to a decision?
- Hence there are not exactly two contrary states, but a large number
- of successive and different states within which I distinguish, by an
- effort of imagination, two opposite directions.
- [Illustration]
- Thus we shall get still nearer the reality by agreeing to use the
- invariable signs X and Y to denote, not these tendencies or states
- themselves, since they are constantly changing, but the two different
- directions which our imagination ascribes to them for the greater
- convenience of language. It will also be understood that these
- are symbolical representations, that in reality there are not two
- tendencies, or even two directions, but a self which lives and develops
- by means of its very hesitations, until the free action drops from it
- like an over-ripe fruit.
- [Sidenote: The only reality is the living developing self, in which we
- distinguish by abstraction two opposite tendencies or directions.]
- But this conception of voluntary activity does not satisfy common
- sense, because, being essentially a devotee of mechanism, it loves
- clear-cut distinctions, those which are expressed by sharply defined
- words or by different positions in space. Hence it will picture a self
- which, after having traversed a series M O of conscious states, when it
- reaches the point O finds before it two directions O X and O Y, equally
- open. These directions thus become _things,_ real paths into which the
- highroad of consciousness leads, and it depends only on the self which
- of them is entered upon. In short, the continuous and living activity
- of this self, in which we have distinguished, by abstraction only,
- two opposite directions, is replaced by these directions themselves,
- transformed into indifferent inert things awaiting our choice. But
- then we must certainly transfer the activity of the self somewhere or
- other. We will put it, according to this hypothesis, at the point O: we
- will say that the self, when it reaches O and finds two courses open
- to it, hesitates, deliberates and finally decides in favour of one of
- them. As we find it difficult to picture the double direction of the
- conscious activity in all the phases of its continuous development, we
- separate off these two tendencies on the one hand and the activity of
- the self on the other: we thus get an impartially active ego hesitating
- between two inert and, as it were, solidified courses of action.
- Now, if it decides in favour of O X, the line O Y will nevertheless
- remain; if it chooses O Y, the path O X will remain open, waiting in
- case the self retraces its steps in order to make use of it. It is in
- this sense that we say, when speaking of a free act, that the contrary
- action was equally possible. And, even if we do not draw a geometrical
- figure on paper, we involuntarily and almost unconsciously think of
- it as soon as we distinguish in the free act a number of successive
- phases, the _conception_ of opposite motives, _hesitation_ and
- _choice_--thus hiding the geometrical symbolism under a kind of verbal
- crystallization. Now it is easy to see that this really mechanical
- conception of freedom issues naturally and logically in the most
- unbending determinism.
- [Sidenote: If this symbolism represents the facts, the activity of the
- self has always tended in one direction, and determinism results.]
- The living activity of the self, in which we distinguish by abstraction
- two opposite tendencies, will finally issue either at X or Y. Now,
- since it is agreed to localize the double activity of the self at the
- point O, there is no reason to separate this activity from the act
- in which it will issue and which forms part and parcel of it. And if
- experience shows that the decision has been in favour of X, it is
- not a neutral activity which should be placed at the point O, but an
- activity tending in advance in the direction O X, in spite of apparent
- hesitations. If, on the contrary, observation proves that the decision
- has been in favour of Y, we must infer that the activity localized
- by us at the point O was bent in this second direction in spite of
- some oscillations towards the first. To assert that the self, when
- it reaches the point O, chooses indifferently between X and Y, is to
- stop half way in the course of our geometrical symbolism; it is to
- separate off at the point O only a part of this continuous activity
- in which we undoubtedly distinguished two different directions, but
- which in addition has gone on to X or Y: why not take this last fact
- into account as well as the other two? Why not assign it the place that
- belongs to it in the symbolical figure which we have just constructed?
- But if the self, when it reaches the point O, is already determined
- in one direction, there is no use in the other way remaining open,
- the self cannot take it. And the same rough symbolism which was meant
- to show the contingency of the action performed, ends, by a natural
- extension, in proving its absolute necessity.
- [Sidenote: Libertarians ignore the fact that one path has been chosen,
- and not the other.]
- In short, defenders and opponents of free will agree in holding that
- the action is preceded by a kind of mechanical oscillation between two
- points X and Y. If I decide in favour of X, the former will tell me:
- you hesitated and deliberated, therefore Y was possible. The others
- will answer: you chose X, therefore you had some reason for doing
- so, and those who declare that Y was equally possible forget this
- reason: they leave aside one of the conditions of the problem. Now,
- if I dig deeper underneath these two opposite solutions, I discover a
- common postulate: both take up their position after the action X has
- been performed, and represent the process of my voluntary activity
- by a path M O which branches off at the point O, the lines O X and
- O Y symbolizing the two directions which abstraction distinguishes
- within the continuous activity of which X is the goal. But while the
- determinists take account of all that they know, and note that the
- path M O X has been traversed, their opponents mean to ignore one of
- the data with which they have constructed the figure, and after having
- traced out the lines O X and O Y, which should together represent the
- progress of the activity of the self, they bring back the self to the
- point O to oscillate there until further orders.
- [Sidenote: But the figure merely gives the stereotyped memory of the
- process, and not the dynamic progress which issued in the set.]
- It should not be forgotten, indeed, that the figure, which is really
- a splitting of our psychic activity in space, is purely symbolical,
- and as such, cannot be constructed unless we adopt the hypothesis
- that our deliberation is finished and our mind made up. If you trace
- it beforehand, act you assume that you have reached the end and are
- present in imagination at the final act. In short this figure does not
- show me the deed in the doing but the deed already done. Do not ask
- me then whether the self, having traversed the path M O and decided
- in favour of X, could or could not choose Y: I should answer that the
- question is meaningless, because there is no line M O, no point O, no
- path O X, no direction O Y. To ask such a question is to admit the
- possibility of adequately representing time by space and a succession
- by a simultaneity. It is to ascribe to the figure we have traced the
- value of a description, and not merely of a symbol; it is to believe
- that it is possible to follow the process of psychic activity on this
- figure like the march of an army on a map. We have been present at the
- deliberation of the self in all its phases until the act was performed:
- then, recapitulating the terms of the series, we perceive succession
- under the form of simultaneity, we project time into space, and we
- base our reasoning, consciously or unconsciously, on this geometrical
- figure. But this figure represents a _thing_ and not a _progress_; it
- corresponds, in its inertness, to a kind of stereotyped memory of the
- whole process of deliberation and the final decision arrived at: how
- could it give us the least idea of the concrete movement, the dynamic
- progress by which the deliberation issued in the act? And yet, once
- the figure is constructed, we go back in imagination into the past and
- will have it that our psychic activity has followed exactly the path
- traced out by the figure. We thus fall into the mistake which has been
- pointed out above: we give a mechanical explanation of a fact, and
- then substitute the explanation for the fact itself. Hence we encounter
- insuperable difficulties from the very beginning: if the two courses
- were equally possible, how have we made our choice? If only one of them
- was possible, why did we believe ourselves free? And we do not see that
- both questions come back to this: Is time space?
- [Sidenote: Fundamental error is confusion of time and space. The self
- infallible in affirming immediate experience of freedom, but cannot
- explain it.]
- If I glance over a road marked on the map and follow it up to a
- certain point, there is nothing to prevent my turning back and trying
- to find out whether it branches off anywhere. But time is not a line
- along which one can pass again. Certainly, once it has elapsed, we
- are justified in picturing the successive moments as external to one
- another and in thus thinking of a line traversing space; but it must
- then be understood that this line does not symbolize the time which
- is passing but the time which has passed. Defenders and opponents of
- free will alike forget this--the former when they assert, and the
- latter when they deny the possibility of acting differently from what
- we have done. The former reason thus: "The path is not yet traced out,
- therefore it may take any direction whatever." To which the answer is:
- "You forget that it is not possible to speak of a path till the action
- is performed: but then it will have been traced out." The latter say:
- "The path has been traced out in such and such a way: therefore its
- possible direction was not any direction whatever, but only this one
- direction." To which the answer is: "Before the path was traced out
- there was no direction, either possible or impossible, for the very
- simple reason that there could not yet be any question of a path." Get
- rid of this clumsy symbolism, the idea of which besets you without your
- knowing it; you will see that the argument of the determinists assumes
- this puerile form: "The act, once performed, is performed," and that
- their opponents reply: "The act, before being performed, was not yet
- performed." In other words, the question of freedom remains after this
- discussion exactly where it was to begin with; nor must we be surprised
- at it, since freedom must be sought in a certain shade or quality of
- the action itself and not in the relation of this act to what it is
- not or to what it might have been. All the difficulty arises from the
- fact that both parties picture the deliberation under the form of an
- oscillation in space, while it really consists in a dynamic progress
- in which the self and its motives, like real living beings, are in a
- constant state of becoming. The self, infallible when it affirms its
- immediate experiences, feels itself free and says so; but, as soon
- as it tries to explain its freedom to itself, it no longer perceives
- itself except by a kind of refraction through space. Hence a symbolism
- of a mechanical kind, equally incapable of proving, disproving, or
- illustrating free will.
- [Sidenote: Is prediction of an act possible? Probable and infallible
- conclusions.]
- But determinism will not admit itself beaten, and, putting the question
- in a new form, it will say: "Let us leave aside actions already
- performed: let us consider only actions that are to come. The question
- is whether, knowing from now onwards all the future antecedents,
- some higher intelligence would not be able to predict with absolute
- certainty the decision which will result."--We gladly agree to the
- question being put in these terms: it will give us a chance of stating
- our own theory with greater precision. But we shall first draw a
- distinction between those who think that the knowledge of antecedents
- would enable us to state a _probable_ conclusion and those who speak of
- an _infallible_ foresight. To say that a certain friend, under certain
- circumstances, will very probably act in a certain way, is not so much
- to predict the future conduct of our friend as to pass a judgment
- on his present character, that is to say, on his past. Although our
- feelings, our ideas, our character, are constantly altering, a sudden
- change is seldom observed; and it is still more seldom that we cannot
- say of a person whom we know that certain actions seem to accord
- fairly well with his nature and that certain others are absolutely
- inconsistent with it. All philosophers will agree on this point; for
- to say that a given action is consistent or inconsistent with the
- present character of a person whom one knows is not to bind the future
- to the present. But the determinist goes much further: he asserts
- that our solution is provisional simply because we never know all the
- conditions of the problem: that our forecast would gain in probability
- in proportion as we were provided with a larger number of these
- conditions; that, therefore, complete and perfect knowledge of all the
- antecedents without any exception would make our forecast infallibly
- true. Such, then, is the hypothesis which we have to examine.
- [Sidenote: To know _completely_ the antecedents and conditions of an
- action is to be actually performing it.]
- For the sake of greater definiteness, let us imagine a person called
- upon to make a seemingly free decision under serious circumstances:
- we shall call him Peter. The question is whether a philosopher Paul,
- living at the same period as Peter, or, if you prefer, a few centuries
- before, would have been able, knowing _all_ the conditions under which
- Peter acts, to foretell with certainty the choice which Peter made.
- There are several ways of picturing the mental condition of a person at
- a given moment. We try to do it when e.g. we read a novel; but whatever
- care the author may have taken in depicting the feelings of his hero,
- and even in tracing back his history, the end, foreseen or unforeseen,
- will add something to the idea which we had formed of the character:
- the character, therefore, was only imperfectly known to us. In truth,
- the deeper psychic states, those which are translated by free acts,
- express and sum up the whole of our past history: if Paul knows all
- the conditions under which Peter acts, we must suppose that no detail
- of Peter's life escapes him, and that his imagination reconstructs and
- even lives over again Peter's history. But we must here make a vital
- distinction. When I myself pass through a certain psychic state, I know
- exactly the intensity of this state and its importance in relation to
- the others, not by measurement or comparison, but because the intensity
- of e.g. a deep-seated feeling is nothing else than the feeling itself.
- On the other hand, if I try to give you an account of this psychic
- state, I shall be unable to make you realize its intensity except by
- some definite sign of a mathematical kind: I shall have to measure its
- importance, compare it with what goes before and what follows, in
- short determine the part which it plays in the final act. And I shall
- say that it is more or less intense, more or less important, according
- as the final act is explained by it or apart from it. On the other
- hand, for my own consciousness, which perceived this inner state, there
- was no need of a comparison of this kind: the intensity was given to
- it as an inexpressible quality of the state itself. In other words,
- the intensity of a psychic state is not given to consciousness as a
- special sign accompanying this state and denoting its power, like an
- exponent in algebra; we have shown above that it expresses rather its
- shade, its characteristic colouring, and that, if it is a question of
- a feeling, for example, its intensity consists in being felt. Hence
- we have to distinguish two ways of assimilating the conscious states
- of other people: the one dynamic, which consists in experiencing them
- oneself; the other static, which consists in substituting for the
- consciousness of these states their image or rather their intellectual
- symbol, their idea. In this case the conscious states are _imagined_
- instead of being _reproduced_; but, then, to the image of the psychic
- states themselves some indication of their _intensity_ should be added,
- since they no longer act on the person in whose mind they are pictured
- and the latter has no longer any chance of experiencing their force by
- actually feeling them. Now, this indication itself will necessarily
- assume a quantitative character: it will be pointed out, for example,
- that a certain feeling has more strength than another feeling, that it
- is necessary to take more account of it, that it has played a greater
- part; and how could this be known unless the later history of the
- person were known in advance, with the precise actions in which this
- multiplicity of states or inclinations has issued? Therefore, if Paul
- is to have an adequate idea of Peter's state at any moment of his
- history, there are only two courses open; either, like a novelist who
- knows whither he is conducting his characters, Paul must already know
- Peter's final act, and must thus be able to supplement his mental image
- of the successive states through which Peter is going to pass by some
- indication of their value in relation to the whole of Peter's history;
- or he must make up his mind to pass through these different states,
- not in imagination, but in reality. The former hypothesis must be put
- on one side since the very point at issue is whether, the antecedents
- _alone_ being given, Paul will be able to foresee the final act. We
- find ourselves compelled, therefore, to alter radically the idea
- which we had formed of Paul: he is not, as we had thought at first, a
- spectator whose eyes pierce the future, but an actor who plays Peter's
- part in advance. And notice that you cannot exempt him from any detail
- of this part, for the most common-place events have their importance in
- a life-story; and even supposing that they have not, you cannot decide
- that they are insignificant except in relation to the final act,
- which, by hypothesis, is not given. Neither have you the right to cut
- short--were it only by a second--the different states of consciousness
- through which Paul is going to pass before Peter; for the effects of
- the same feeling, for example, go on accumulating at every moment of
- duration, and the sum total of these effects could not be realized all
- at once unless one knew the importance of the feeling, taken in its
- totality, in relation to the final act, which is the very thing that is
- supposed to remain unknown. But if Peter and Paul have experienced the
- same feelings in the same order, if their minds have the same history,
- how will you distinguish one from the other? Will it be by the body in
- which they dwell? They would then always differ in some respect, viz.,
- that at no moment of their history would they have a mental picture
- of the same body. Will it be by the place which they occupy in time?
- In that case they would no longer be present at the same events: now,
- by hypothesis, they have the same past and the same present, having
- the same experience. You must now make up your mind about it: Peter
- and Paul are one and the same person, whom you call Peter when he acts
- and Paul when you recapitulate his history. The more complete you
- made the sum of the conditions which, when known, would have enabled
- you to predict Peter's future action, the closer became your grasp of
- his existence and the nearer you came to living his life over again
- down to its smallest details: you thus reached the very moment when,
- the action taking place, there was no longer anything to be foreseen,
- but only something to be done. Here again any attempt to reconstruct
- ideally an act really _willed_ ends in the mere witnessing of the act
- whilst it is being performed or when it is already done.
- [Sidenote: Hence meaningless to ask whether an act can be foreseen when
- _all_ its antecedents are given.]
- Hence it is a question devoid of meaning to ask: Could or could not
- the act be foreseen, given the sum total of its antecedents? For there
- are two ways of assimilating these antecedents, the one dynamic the
- other static. In the first case we shall be led by imperceptible steps
- to identify ourselves with the person we are dealing with, to pass
- through the same series of states, and thus to get back to the very
- moment at which the act is performed; hence there can no longer be any
- question of foreseeing it. In the second case, we presuppose the final
- act by the mere fact of annexing to the qualitative description of the
- previous states the quantitative appreciation of their importance.
- Here again the one party is led merely to realize that the act is not
- yet performed when it is to be performed, and the other, that when
- performed it is performed. This, like the previous discussion, leaves
- the question of freedom exactly where it was to begin with.
- [Sidenote: The two fallacies involved: (1) regarding intensity as a
- magnitude, not a quality; (2) substituting material symbol for dynamic
- process.]
- By going deeper into this twofold argument, we shall find, at its very
- root, the two fundamental illusions of the reflective consciousness.
- The first consists in regarding: intensity as a mathematical property
- of psychic states and not, as we said at the beginning of this essay,
- as a special quality, as a particular shade of these various states.
- The second consists in substituting for the concrete reality or dynamic
- progress, which consciousness perceives, the material symbol of this
- progress when it has already reached its end, that is to say, of the
- act already accomplished together with the series of its antecedents.
- Certainly, once the final act is completed, I can ascribe to all the
- antecedents their proper value, and picture the interplay of these
- various elements as a conflict or a composition of forces. But to ask
- whether, the antecedents being known as well as their value, one could
- foretell the final act, is to beg the question; it is to forget that
- we cannot know the value of the antecedents without knowing the final
- act, which is the very thing that is not yet known; it is to suppose
- wrongly that the symbolical diagram which we draw in our own way for
- representing the action _when completed_ has been drawn by the action
- itself _whilst progressing,_ and drawn by it in an automatic manner.
- [Sidenote: Claiming to foresee an action always comes back to confusing
- time with space.]
- Now, in these two illusions themselves a third one is involved, and
- you will see that the question whether the act could or could not
- be foreseen always comes back to this: Is time space? You begin by
- setting side by side in some ideal space the conscious states which
- succeed one another in Peter's mind, and you perceive his life as a
- kind of path M O X Y traced out by a moving body M in space. You then
- blot out in thought the part O X Y of this curve, and you inquire
- whether, knowing M O, you would have been able to determine the portion
- O X of the curve which the moving body describes beyond O.
- [Illustration]
- Such is, in the main, the question which you put when you bring in a
- philosopher Paul, who lives before Peter and has to picture to himself
- the conditions under which Peter will act. You thus materialize these
- conditions; you make the time to come into a road already marked
- out across the plain, which we can contemplate from the top of the
- mountain, even if we have not traversed it and are never to do so.
- But, now, you soon notice that the knowledge of the part M O of the
- curve would not be enough, unless you were shown the position of the
- points of this line, not only in relation to one another, but also in
- relation to the points of the whole line M O X Y; which would amount to
- being given in advance the very elements which have to be determined.
- So you then alter your hypothesis; you realize that time does not
- require to be seen, but to be lived; and hence you conclude that, if
- your knowledge of the line M O was not a sufficient datum, the reason
- must have been that you looked at it from the outside instead of
- identifying yourself with the point M, which describes not only M O but
- also the whole curve, and thus making its movement your own. Therefore,
- you persuade Paul to come and coincide with Peter; and naturally,
- then, it is the line M O X Y which Paul traces out in space, since, by
- hypothesis, Peter describes this line. But in no wise do you prove thus
- that Paul foresaw Peter's action; you only show that Peter acted in
- the way he did, since Paul became Peter. It is true that you then come
- back, unwittingly, to your former hypothesis, because you continually
- confuse the line M O X Y in its tracing with the line M O X Y already
- traced, that is to say, time with space. After causing Paul to come
- down and identify himself with Peter as long as was required, you let
- him go up again and resume his former post of observation. No wonder if
- he then perceives the line M O X Y complete: he himself has just been
- completing it.
- [Sidenote: Confusion arising from prediction of astronomical phenomena.]
- What makes the confusion a natural and almost an unavoidable one is
- that science seems to point to many cases where we do anticipate the
- future. Do we not determine beforehand the conjunctions of heavenly
- bodies, solar and lunar eclipses, in short the greater number of
- astronomical phenomena? Does not, then, the human intellect embrace
- in the present moment immense intervals of duration still to come? No
- doubt it does; but an anticipation of this kind has not the slightest
- resemblance to the anticipation of a voluntary act. Indeed, as we shall
- see, the reasons which render it possible to foretell an astronomical
- phenomenon are the very ones which prevent us from determining in
- advance an act which springs from our free activity. For the future of
- the material universe, although contemporaneous with the future of a
- conscious being, has no analogy to it.
- [Sidenote: Illustration from hypothetical acceleration of physical
- movements.]
- In order to put our finger on this vital difference, let us assume
- for a moment that some mischievous illustration genius, more powerful
- still than the mischievous genius conjured up by Descartes decreed
- that all the movements of the universe should go twice as fast. There
- would be no change in astronomical phenomena, or at any rate in the
- equations which enable us to foresee them, for in these equations the
- symbol _t_ does not stand for a duration, but for a relation between
- two durations, for a certain number of units of time, in short, for
- a certain number of _simultaneities:_ these simultaneities, these
- coincidences would still take place in equal number: only the intervals
- which separate them would have diminished, but these intervals never
- make their appearance in our calculations. Now these intervals are just
- duration _lived,_ duration which our consciousness perceives, and our
- consciousness would soon inform us of a shortening of the day if we
- had not experienced the usual amount of duration between sunrise and
- sunset. No doubt it would not measure this shortening, and perhaps it
- would not even perceive it immediately as a change of quantity; but it
- would realize in some way or other a decline in the usual storing up
- of experience, a change in the progress usually accomplished between
- sunrise and sunset.
- [Sidenote: Astronomical prophecy such as acceleration.]
- Now, when an astronomer foretells e.g. a lunar eclipse, he merely
- exercises in his own way the power which we have ascribed to our
- mischievous genius. He decrees that time shall go ten times, a hundred
- times, a thousand times as fast, and he has a right to do so, since
- all that he thus changes is the nature of the conscious intervals,
- and since these intervals, by hypothesis, do not enter into the
- calculations. Therefore, into a psychological duration of a few seconds
- he may put several years, even several centuries of astronomical
- time: that is his procedure when he traces in advance the path of a
- heavenly body or represents it by an equation. What he does is nothing
- but establishing a series of relations of position between this body
- and other given bodies, a series of simultaneities and coincidences,
- a series of numerical relations: as for duration properly so called,
- it remains outside the calculation and could only be perceived by a
- consciousness capable of living through the intervals and, in fact,
- living the intervals themselves, instead of merely perceiving their
- extremities. Indeed it is even conceivable that this consciousness
- could live so slow and lazy a life as to take in the whole path of the
- heavenly body in a single perception, just as we do when we perceive
- the successive positions of a shooting star as one line of fire. Such a
- consciousness would find itself really in the same conditions in which
- the astronomer places himself ideally; it would see in the present
- what the astronomer perceives in the future. In truth, if the latter
- foresees a future phenomenon, it is only on condition of making it to a
- certain extent a present phenomenon, or at least of enormously reducing
- the interval which separates us from it. In short, the time of which
- we speak in astronomy is a number, and the nature of the units of this
- number cannot be specified in our calculations; we may therefore assume
- them to be as small as we please, provided that the same hypothesis is
- extended to the whole series of operations, and that the successive
- relations of position in space are thus preserved. We shall then be
- present in imagination at the phenomenon we wish to foretell; we shall
- know exactly at what point in space and after how many units of time
- this phenomenon takes place; if we then restore to these units their
- psychical nature, we shall thrust the event again into the future and
- say that we have foreseen it, when in reality we have seen it.
- [Sidenote: In dealing with states of consciousness we cannot vary their
- duration without altering their nature.]
- But these units of time which make up living duration, and which the
- astronomer can dispose of as he pleases because they give no handle
- to science, are just what concern the psychologist, for psychology
- deals with the intervals themselves and not with their extremities.
- Certainly pure consciousness does not perceive time as a sum of units
- of duration: left to itself, it has no means and even no reason to
- measure time; but a feeling which lasted only half the number of days,
- for example, would no longer be the same feeling for it; it would lack
- thousands of impressions which gradually thickened its substance and
- altered its colour. True, when we give this feeling a certain name,
- when we treat it as a thing, we believe that we can diminish its
- duration by half, for example, and also halve the duration of all the
- rest of our history: it seems that it would still be the same life,
- only on a reduced scale. But we forget that states of consciousness
- are processes, and not things; that if we denote them each by a single
- word, it is for the convenience of language; that they are alive and
- therefore constantly changing; that, in consequence, it is impossible
- to cut off a moment from them without making them poorer by the loss of
- some impression, and thus altering their quality. I quite understand
- that the orbit of a planet might be perceived all at once or in a very
- short time, because its successive positions or the _results_ of its
- movement are the only things that matter, and not the duration of the
- equal intervals which separate them. But when we have to do with a
- feeling, it has no precise result except its having been felt; and,
- to estimate this result adequately, it would be necessary to have
- gone through all the phases of the feeling itself and to have taken
- up the same duration. Even if this feeling has finally issued in some
- definite action, which might be compared to the definite position of
- a planet in space, the knowledge of this act will hardly enable us to
- estimate the influence of the feeling on the whole of a life-story, and
- it is this very influence which we want to know. All foreseeing is in
- reality seeing, and this seeing takes place when we can reduce as much
- as we please an interval of future time while preserving the relation
- of its parts to one another, as happens in the case of astronomical
- predictions. But what does reducing an interval of time mean, except
- emptying or impoverishing the conscious states which fill it? And does
- not the very possibility of seeing an astronomical period in miniature
- thus imply the impossibility of modifying a psychological series in the
- same way, since it is only by taking this psychological series as an
- invariable basis that we shall be able to make an astronomical period
- vary arbitrarily as regards the unit of duration?
- [Sidenote: Difference between past and future duration in this respect.]
- Thus, when we ask whether a future action could have been foreseen, we
- unwittingly identify that time with which we have to do in the exact
- sciences, and which is reducible to a number, with real duration, whose
- so-called quantity is really a quality, and which we cannot curtail
- by an instant without altering the nature of the facts which fill it.
- No doubt the identification is made easier by the fact that in a large
- number of cases we are justified in dealing with real duration as with
- astronomical time. Thus, when we call to mind the past, i.e. a series
- of deeds done, we always shorten it, without however distorting the
- nature of the event which interests us. The reason is that we know
- it already; for the psychic state, when it reaches the end of the
- _progress_ which constitutes its very existence, becomes a _thing_
- which one can picture to oneself all at once. Here we find ourselves
- in the same position as the astronomer, when he takes in at a glance
- the orbit which a planet will need several years to traverse. In fact,
- astronomical prediction should be compared with the recollection of the
- past state of consciousness, not with the anticipation of the future
- one. But when we have to determine a future state of consciousness,
- however superficial it may be, we can no longer view the antecedents in
- a static condition as things; we must view them in a dynamic condition
- as processes, since we are concerned with their influence alone. Now
- their duration is this very influence. Therefore it will no longer do
- to shorten future duration in order to picture its parts beforehand;
- one is bound to _live_ this duration whilst it is unfolding. As far
- as deep-seated psychic states are concerned, there is no perceptible
- difference between foreseeing, seeing, and acting.
- [Sidenote: The determinist argument that psychic phenomena are subject
- to the law "same antecedents, same consequent."]
- Only one course will remain open to the determinist. He will probably
- give up asserting the possibility of foreseeing a certain future act or
- state of consciousness, but will maintain that every act is determined
- by its psychic antecedents, or, in other words, that the facts of
- consciousness, went, the phenomena of nature, are subject to laws. This
- way of arguing means, at bottom, that he will leave out the particular
- features of the concrete psychic states, lest he find himself
- confronted by phenomena which defy all symbolical representation and
- therefore all anticipation. The particular nature of these phenomena
- is thus thrust out of sight, but it is asserted that, being phenomena,
- they must remain subject to the law of causality. Now, it is argued,
- this law means that every phenomenon is determined by its conditions,
- or, in other words, that the same causes produce the same effects.
- Either, then, the act is inseparably bound to its antecedents, or the
- principle of causality admits of an incomprehensible exception.
- [Sidenote: But as regards inner states the same antecedents will never
- recur.]
- This last form of the determinist argument differs less than might be
- thought from all the others which have been examined above. To say that
- the same inner causes will reproduce the same effects is to assume that
- the same cause can appear a second time on the stage of consciousness.
- Now, if duration is what we say, deep-seated psychic states are
- radically heterogeneous to each other, and it is impossible that any
- two of them should be quite alike, since they are two different moments
- of a life-story. While the external object does not bear the mark of
- the time that has elapsed and thus, in spite of the difference of time,
- the physicist can again encounter identical elementary conditions,
- duration is something real for the consciousness which preserves the
- trace of it, and we cannot here speak of identical conditions, because
- the same moment does not occur twice. It is no use arguing that, even
- if there are no two deep-seated psychic states which are altogether
- alike, yet analysis would resolve these different states into more
- general and homogeneous elements which might be compared with each
- other. This would be to forget that even the simplest psychic elements
- possess a personality and a life of their own, however superficial they
- may be; they are in a constant state of becoming, and the same feeling,
- by the mere fact of being repeated, is a new feeling. Indeed, we have
- no reason for calling it by its former name save that it corresponds
- to the same external cause or projects itself outwardly into similar
- attitudes: hence it would simply be begging the question to deduce from
- the so-called likeness of two conscious states that the same cause
- produces the same effect. In short, if the causal relation still holds
- good in the realm of inner states, it cannot resemble in any way what
- we call causality in nature. For the physicist, the same cause always
- produces the same effect: for a psychologist who does not let himself
- be misled by merely apparent analogies, a deep-seated inner cause
- produces its effect once for all and will never reproduce it. And if
- it is now asserted that this effect was inseparably bound up with this
- particular cause, such an assertion will mean one of two things: either
- that, the antecedents being given, the future action might have been
- foreseen; or that, the action having once been performed, any other
- actionals seen, under the given conditions, to have been impossible.
- Now we saw that both these assertions were equally meaningless, and
- that they also involved a false conception of duration.
- [Sidenote: Analysis of the conception of cause, which underlies the
- whole determinist argument.]
- Nevertheless it will be worth while to dwell on this latter form of the
- determinist argument, even though it be only to explain from our point
- of view the meaning of the two words "determination" and "causality."
- In vain do we argue that there cannot be any question either of
- foreseeing a future action in the way that an astronomical phenomenon
- is foreseen, or of asserting, when once an action is done, that any
- other action would have been impossible under the given conditions. In
- vain do we add that, even when it takes this form: "The same causes
- produce the same effects," the principle of universal determination
- loses every shred of meaning in the inner world of conscious states.
- The determinist will perhaps yield to our arguments on each of these
- three points in particular, will admit that in the psychical field one
- cannot ascribe any of these three meanings to the word determination,
- will probably fail to discover a fourth meaning, and yet will go on
- repeating that the act is inseparably bound up with its antecedents. We
- thus find ourselves here confronted by so deep-seated a misapprehension
- and so obstinate a prejudice that we cannot get the better of them
- without attacking them at their root, which is the principle of
- causality. By analysing the concept of cause, we shall show the
- ambiguity which it involves, and, though not aiming at a formal
- definition of freedom, we shall perhaps get beyond the purely negative
- idea of it which we have framed up to the present.
- [Sidenote: Causality as "regular succession" does not apply to
- conscious states and cannot disprove free will.]
- We perceive physical phenomena, and these phenomena obey laws. This
- means: (i) that phenomena _a, b, c, d,_ previously perceived, can
- occur again in the same shape; (2) that a certain phenomenon _P,_
- which appeared after the conditions _a, b, c, d,_ and after these
- conditions only, will not fail to recur as soon as the same conditions
- are again present. If the principle of causality told us nothing
- more, as the empiricists claim, we should willingly grant these
- philosophers that their principle is derived from experience; but
- it would no longer prove anything against our freedom. For it would
- then be understood that definite antecedents give rise to a definite
- consequent _wherever_ experience shows us this regular succession;
- but the question is whether this regularity is found in the domain
- of consciousness too, and that is the whole problem of free will. We
- grant you for a moment that the principle of causality is nothing but
- the summing up of the uniform and unconditional successions observed
- in the past: by what right, then, do you apply it to those deep-seated
- states of consciousness in which no regular succession has yet been
- discovered, since the attempt to foresee them ever fails? And how can
- you base on this principle your argument to prove the determinism of
- inner states, when, according to you, the determinism of observed
- facts is the sole source of the principle itself? In truth, when the
- empiricists make use of the principle of causality to disprove human
- freedom, they take the word cause in a new meaning, which is the very
- meaning given to it by common sense.
- To assert the regular succession of two phenomena is, indeed, to
- recognize that, the first being given, we already catch sight of the
- second. But this wholly subjective connexion between two ideas is not
- enough for common sense. It seems to common sense that, if the idea
- of the second phenomenon is already implied in that of the first, the
- second phenomenon itself must exist objectively, in some way or other,
- within the first phenomenon. And common sense was bound to come to
- this conclusion, because to distinguish exactly between an objective
- connexion of phenomena and a subjective association between their ideas
- presupposes a fairly high degree of philosophical culture. We thus pass
- imperceptibly from the first meaning to the second, and we picture the
- causal relation as a kind of prefiguring of the future phenomenon in
- its present conditions. Now this prefiguring can be understood in two
- very different ways, and it is just here that the ambiguity begins.
- [Sidenote: Causality, as the prefiguring of the future phenomenon in
- its present conditions, in one form destroys concrete phenomena.]
- In the first place, mathematics furnishes us with _one_ type of
- this kind of prefiguring. The very movement by which we draw the
- circumference of a circle on a sheet of paper generates all the
- mathematical properties of this figure: in this sense an unlimited
- number of theorems can be said to pre-exist within the definition,
- although they will be spread out in duration for the mathematician
- who deduces them. It is true that we are here in the realm of pure
- quantity and that, as geometrical properties can be expressed in the
- form of equations, it is easy to understand how the original equation,
- expressing the fundamental property of the figure, is transformed into
- an unlimited number of new ones, all virtually contained in the first.
- On the contrary, physical phenomena, which succeed one another and are
- perceived by our senses, are distinguished by quality not less than by
- quantity, so that there would be some difficulty in at once declaring
- them equivalent to one another. But, just because they are perceived
- through our sense-organs, we seem justified in ascribing their
- qualitative differences to the impression which they make on us and in
- assuming, behind the heterogeneity of our sensations, a homogeneous
- physical universe. Thus, we shall strip matter of the concrete
- qualities with which our senses clothe it, colour, heat, resistance,
- even weight, and we shall finally find ourselves confronted with
- homogeneous extensity, space without body. The only step then remaining
- will be to describe figures in space, to make them move according to
- mathematically formulated laws, and to explain the apparent qualities
- of matter by the shape, position, and motion of these geometrical
- figures. Now, position is given by a system of fixed magnitudes and
- motion is expressed by a law, i.e. by a constant relation between
- variable magnitudes; but shape is a mental image, and, however tenuous,
- however transparent we assume it to be, it still constitutes, in so
- far as our imagination has, so to speak, the visual perception of
- it, a concrete and therefore irreducible quality of matter. It will
- therefore be necessary to make a clean sweep of this image itself and
- replace it by the abstract formula of the movement which gives rise
- to the figure. Picture then algebraical relations getting entangled
- in one another, becoming objective by this very entanglement, and
- producing, by the mere effect of their complexity, concrete, visible,
- and tangible reality,--you will be merely drawing the consequences
- of the principle of causality, understood in the sense of an actual
- prefiguring of the future in the present. The scientists of our time do
- not seem, indeed, to have carried abstraction so far, except perhaps
- Lord Kelvin. This acute and profound physicist assumed that space is
- filled with a homogeneous and incompressible fluid in which vortices
- move, thus producing the properties of matter: these vortices are the
- constituent elements of bodies; the atom thus becomes a movement, and
- physical phenomena are reduced to regular movements taking place within
- an incompressible fluid. But, if you will notice that this fluid is
- perfectly homogeneous, that between its parts there is neither an empty
- interval which separates them nor any difference whatever by which
- they can be distinguished, you will see that all movement taking place
- within this fluid is really equivalent to absolute immobility, since
- before, during, and after the movement nothing changes and nothing
- has changed in the whole. The movement which is here spoken of is
- thus not a movement which actually takes place, but only a movement
- which is pictured mentally: it is a relation between relations. It is
- implicitly supposed, though perhaps not actually realized, that motion
- has something to do with consciousness, that in space there are only
- simultaneities, and that the business of the physicist is to provide
- us with the means of calculating these relations of simultaneity for
- any moment of our duration. Nowhere has mechanism been carried further
- than in this system, since the very shape of the ultimate elements of
- matter is here reduced to a movement. But the Cartesian physics already
- anticipated this interpretation; for if matter is nothing, as Descartes
- claimed, but homogeneous extensity, the movements of the parts of this
- extensity can be conceived through the abstract law which governs them
- or through an algebraical equation between variable magnitudes, but
- cannot be represented under the concrete form of an image. And it would
- not be difficult to prove that the more the progress of mechanical
- explanations enables us to develop this conception of causality and
- therefore to relieve the atom of the weight of its sensible qualities,
- the more the concrete existence of the phenomena of nature tends to
- vanish into algebraical smoke.
- [Sidenote: It thus leads to Descartes' physics and Spinoza's
- metaphysics, but cannot bind future to present without neglecting
- duration.]
- Thus understood, the relation of causality is a necessary relation in
- the sense that it will indefinitely approach the relation of identity,
- as a curve approaches its asymptote. The Principle of identity is the
- absolute law of our consciousness: it asserts that what is thought
- is thought at the moment when we think it: and what gives this
- principle its absolute necessity is that it does not bind the future
- to the present, but only the present to the present: it expresses the
- unshakable confidence that consciousness feels in itself, so long as,
- faithful to its duty, it confines itself to declaring the apparent
- present state of the mind. But the principle of causality, in so far
- as it is supposed to bind the future to the present, could never take
- the form of a necessary principle; for the successive moments of
- real time are not bound up with one another, and no effort of logic
- will succeed in proving that what has been will be or will continue
- to be, that the same antecedents will always give rise to identical
- consequents. Descartes understood this so well that he attributed the
- regularity of the physical world and the continuation of the same
- effects to the constantly renewed grace of Providence; he built up, as
- it were, an instantaneous physics, intended for a universe the whole
- duration of which might as well be confined to the present moment.
- And Spinoza maintained that the indefinite series of phenomena, which
- takes for us the form of a succession in time, was equivalent, in the
- absolute, to the divine unity: he thus assumed, on the one hand, that
- the relation of apparent causality between phenomena melted away into
- a relation of identity in the absolute, and, on the other, that the
- indefinite duration of things was all contained in a single moment,
- which is eternity. In short, whether we study Cartesian physics,
- Spinozistic metaphysics, or the scientific theories of our own time,
- we shall find everywhere the same anxiety to establish a relation of
- logical necessity between cause and effect, and we shall see that this
- anxiety shows itself in a tendency to transform relations of succession
- into relations of inherence, to do away with active duration, and to
- substitute for apparent causality a fundamental identity.
- [Sidenote: The necessary determination of phenomena implies
- non-duration; but we _endure_ and are therefore free.]
- Now, if the development of the notion of causality, understood
- in the sense of necessary connexion, leads to the Spinozistic or
- Cartesian conception of nature, inversely, all relation of necessary
- determination established between successive phenomena may be supposed
- to arise from our perceiving, in a confused form, some mathematical
- mechanism behind their heterogeneity. We do not claim that common
- sense has any intuition of the kinetic theories of matter, still less
- perhaps of a Spinozistic mechanism; but it will be seen that the more
- the effect seems necessarily bound up with the cause, the more we tend
- to put it in the cause itself, as a mathematical consequence in its
- principle, and thus to cancel the effect of duration. That under the
- influence of the same external conditions I do not behave to-day as I
- behaved yesterday is not at all surprising, because I _change,_ because
- I _endure._ But things considered apart from our perception do not
- seem to endure; and the more thoroughly we examine this idea, the more
- absurd it seems to us to suppose that the same cause should not produce
- to-day the effect which it produced yesterday. We certainly feel,
- it is true, that although things do not endure as we do ourselves,
- nevertheless there must be some reason why phenomena are seen to
- _succeed_ one another instead of being set out all at once. And this
- is why the notion of causality, although it gets indefinitely near
- that of identity, will never seem to us to coincide with it, unless we
- conceive clearly the idea of a mathematical mechanism or unless some
- subtle metaphysics removes our very legitimate scruples on the point.
- It is no less obvious that our belief in the necessary determination of
- phenomena by one another becomes stronger in proportion as we are more
- inclined to regard duration as a subjective form of our consciousness.
- In other words, the more we tend to set up the causal relation as a
- relation of necessary determination, the more we assert thereby that
- things do not _endure_ like ourselves. This amounts to saying that the
- more we strengthen the principle of causality, the more we emphasize
- the difference between a physical series and a psychical one. Whence,
- finally, it would result (however paradoxical the opinion may seem)
- that the assumption of a relation of mathematical inherence between
- external phenomena ought to bring with it, as a natural or at least as
- a plausible consequence, the belief in human free will. But this last
- consequence will not concern us for the moment: we are merely trying
- here to trace out the first meaning of the word causality, and we
- think we have shown that the prefiguring of the future in the present
- is easily conceived under a mathematical form, thanks to a certain
- conception of duration which, without seeming to be so, is fairly
- familiar to common sense.
- [Sidenote: Prefiguring, as having an idea of a future act which
- we cannot realize without effort, does not involve necessary
- determination.]
- But there is a prefiguring of another kind, still more familiar to our
- mind, because immediate prefiguring, as consciousness gives us the type
- of it. We go, in fact, through successive states of consciousness, and
- although the later was not contained in the earlier, we had before us
- at the time a more or less confused idea of it. The actual realization
- of this idea, however, did not appear as certain but merely as
- possible. Yet, between the idea and the action, some hardly perceptible
- intermediate processes come in, the whole mass of which takes for us a
- form _sui generis,_ which is called the feeling of effort. And from the
- idea to the effort, from the effort to the act, the progress has been
- so continuous that we cannot say where the idea and the effort end,
- and where the act begins. Hence we see that in a certain sense we may
- still say here that the future was prefigured in the present; but it
- must be added that this prefiguring is very imperfect, since the future
- action of which we have the present idea is conceived as realizable
- but not as realized, and since, even when we plan the effort necessary
- to accomplish it, we feel that there is still time to stop. If, then,
- we decide to picture the causal relation in this second form, we can
- assert _a priori_ that there will no longer be a relation of necessary
- determination between the cause and the effect, for the effect will
- no longer be given in the cause. It will be there only in the state of
- pure possibility and as a vague idea which perhaps will not be followed
- by the corresponding action. But we shall not be surprised that this
- approximation is enough for common sense if we think of the readiness
- with which children and primitive people accept the idea of a whimsical
- Nature, in which caprice plays a part no less important than necessity.
- Nay, this way of conceiving causality will be more easily understood
- by the general run of people, since it does not demand any effort of
- abstraction and only implies a certain analogy between the outer and
- the inner world, between the succession of objective phenomena and that
- of our subjective states.
- [Sidenote: This second conception of causality leads to Leibniz as the
- first led to Spinoza.]
- In truth, this second way of conceiving the relation of cause to effect
- is more natural than the first in that it immediately satisfies the
- need of a mental image. If we look for the phenomenon B within the
- phenomenon A, which regularly precedes it, the reason is that the habit
- of associating the two images ends in giving us the idea of the second
- phenomenon wrapped up, as it were, in that of the first. It is natural,
- then, that we should push this objectification to its furthest limit
- and that we should make the phenomenon A itself into a psychic state,
- in which the phenomenon B is supposed to be contained as a very vague
- idea. We simply suppose, thereby, that the objective connexion of the
- two phenomena resembles the subjective association which suggested the
- idea of it to us. The qualities of things are thus set up as actual
- _states,_ somewhat analogous to those of our own self; the material
- universe is credited with a vague personality which is diffused
- through space and which, although not exactly endowed with a conscious
- will, is led on from one state to another by an inner impulse, a
- kind of effort. Such was ancient hylozoism, a half-hearted and even
- contradictory hypothesis, which left matter its extensity although
- attributing to it real conscious states, and which spread the qualities
- of matter throughout extensity while treating these qualities as inner
- i.e. simple states. It was reserved for Leibniz to do away with this
- contradiction and to show that, if the succession of external qualities
- or phenomena is understood as the succession of our own ideas, these
- qualities must be regarded as simple states or perceptions, and the
- matter which supports them as an unextended monad, analogous to our
- soul. But, if such be the case, the successive states of matter cannot
- be perceived from the outside any more than our own psychic states;
- the hypothesis of pre-established harmony must be introduced in order
- to explain how these inner states are representative of one another.
- Thus, with our second conception of the relation of causality we reach
- Leibniz, as with the first we reached Spinoza. And in both cases we
- merely push to their extreme limit or formulate with greater precision
- two half-hearted and confused ideas of common sense.
- [Sidenote: It does not involve necessary determination.]
- Now it is obvious that the relation of causality, understood in this
- second way, does not involve the necessary determination of the effect
- by the cause. History indeed proves it. We see ancient hylozoism,
- the first outcome of this conception of causality, explained the
- regular succession of causes and effects by a real _deus ex machina_:
- sometimes it was a Necessity external to things and hovering over them,
- sometimes an inner Reason acting by rules somewhat similar to those
- which govern our own conduct. Nor do the perceptions of Leibniz's monad
- necessitate one another; God has to regulate their order in advance.
- In fact, Leibniz's determinism does not spring from his conception
- of the monad, but from the fact that he builds up the universe with
- monads only. Having denied all mechanical influence of substances
- on one another, he had to explain how it happens that their states
- correspond. Hence a determinism which arises from the necessity of
- positing a pre-established harmony, and not at all from the dynamic
- conception of the relation of causality. But let us leave history
- aside. Consciousness itself testifies that the abstract idea of force
- is that of indeterminate effort, that of an effort which has not yet
- issued in an act and in which the act is still only at the stage of an
- idea. In other words, the dynamic conception of the causal relation
- ascribes to things a duration absolutely like our own, whatever may be
- the nature of this duration; to picture in this way the relation of
- cause to effect is to assume that the future is not more closely bound
- up with the present in the external world than it is in our own inner
- life.
- [Sidenote: Each of these contradictory interpretations of causality and
- duration by itself safeguards freedom; taken together they destroy it.]
- It follows from this twofold analysis that the principle of causality
- involves two contradictory conceptions of duration, two mutually
- exclusive ways of prefiguring the future in the present. Sometimes
- all phenomena, physical or psychical, are pictured as _enduring_ in
- the same way, and therefore in the way that _we_ do: in this case the
- future will exist in the present only as an idea, and the passing from
- the present to the future will take the form of an effort which does
- not always lead to the realization of the idea conceived. Sometimes,
- on the other hand, duration is regarded as the characteristic form
- of conscious states; in this case, things are no longer supposed to
- _endure_ as we do, and a mathematical pre-existence of their future
- in their present is admitted. Now, each of these two hypotheses, when
- taken by itself, safeguards human freedom; for the first would lead
- to the result that even the phenomena of nature were contingent, and
- the second, by attributing the necessary determination of physical
- phenomena to the fact that things do not _endure_ as we do, invites
- us to regard the self which is subject to duration as a free force.
- Therefore, every clear conception of causality, where we know our own
- meaning, leads to the idea of human freedom as a natural consequence.
- Unfortunately, the habit has grown up of taking the principle of
- causality in both senses at the same time, because the one is more
- flattering to our imagination and the other is more favourable to
- mathematical reasoning. Sometimes we think particularly of the regular
- _succession_ of physical phenomena and of the kind of inner effort by
- which one _becomes_ another; sometimes we fix our mind on the absolute
- _regularity_ of these phenomena, and from the idea of regularity we
- pass by imperceptible steps to that of mathematical necessity, which
- excludes duration understood in the first way. And we do not see any
- harm in letting these two conceptions blend into one another, and
- in assigning greater importance to the one or the other according
- as we are more or less concerned with the interests of science. But
- to apply the principle of causality, in this ambiguous form, to the
- succession of conscious states, is uselessly and wantonly to run into
- inextricable difficulties. The idea of force, which really excludes
- that of necessary determination, has got into the habit, so to speak,
- of amalgamating with that of necessity, in consequence of the very
- use which we make of the principle of causality in nature. On the one
- hand, we know force only through the witness of consciousness, and
- consciousness does not assert, does not even understand, the absolute
- determination, now, of actions that are still to come: that is all that
- experience teaches us, and if we hold by experience we should say that
- we feel ourselves free, that we perceive force, rightly or wrongly,
- as a free spontaneity. But, on the other hand, this idea of force,
- carried over into nature, travelling there side by side with the idea
- of necessity, has got corrupted before it returns from the journey. It
- returns impregnated with the idea of necessity: and in the light of
- the rôle which we have made it play in the external world, we regard
- force as determining with strict necessity the effects which flow from
- it. Here again the mistake made by consciousness arises from the fact
- that it looks at the self, not directly, but by a kind of refraction
- through the forms which it has lent to external perception, and which
- the latter does not give back without having left its mark on them.
- A compromise, as it were, has been brought about between the idea
- of force and that of necessary determination. The wholly mechanical
- determination of two external phenomena by one another now assumes in
- our eyes the same form as the dynamic relation of our exertion of force
- to the act which springs from it: but, in return, this latter relation
- takes the form of a mathematical derivation, the human action being
- supposed to issue mechanically, and therefore necessarily, from the
- force which produces it. There is no doubt that this mingling of two
- different and almost opposite ideas offers advantages to common sense,
- since it enables us to picture in the same way, and denote by one and
- the same word, both the relation which exists between two moments
- of our life and that which binds together the successive moments of
- the external world. We have seen that, though our deepest conscious
- states exclude numerical multiplicity, yet we break them up into
- parts external to one another; that though the elements of concrete
- duration permeate one another, duration expressing itself in extensity
- exhibits moments as distinct as the bodies scattered in space. Is it
- surprising, then, that between the moments of our life, when it has
- been, so to speak, objectified, we set up a relation analogous to the
- objective relation of causality, and that an exchange, which again may
- be compared to the phenomenon of endosmosis, takes place between the
- dynamic idea of free effort and the mathematical concept of necessary
- determination?
- [Sidenote: Though united in popular thought, the ideas of free effort
- and necessary determination are kept apart by physical science.]
- But the sundering of these two ideas is an accomplished fact in the
- natural sciences. The physicist may speak of _forces,_ and even picture
- their mode of action by analogy with an inner effort, but he will
- never introduce this hypothesis into a scientific explanation. Even
- those who, with Faraday, replace the extended atoms by dynamic points,
- will treat the centres of force and the lines of force mathematically,
- without troubling about force itself considered as an activity or an
- effort. It thus comes to be understood that the relation of external
- causality is purely mathematical, and has no resemblance to the
- relation between psychical force and the act which springs from it.
- [Sidenote: They should be kept apart too by psychology.]
- It is now time to add that the relation of inner causality is purely
- dynamic, and has no analogy with the relation of two external phenomena
- which condition one another. For as the latter are capable of recurring
- in a homogeneous space, their relation can be expressed in terms of a
- law, whereas deep-seated psychic states occur once in consciousness
- and will never occur again. A careful analysis of the psychological
- phenomenon led us to this conclusion in the beginning: the study of the
- notions of causality and duration, viewed in themselves, has merely
- confirmed it.
- [Sidenote: Freedom real but indefineable.]
- We can now formulate our conception of freedom. Freedom is the relation
- of the concrete self to the act which it performs. This relation is
- indefinable, just because we _are_ free. For we can analyse a thing,
- but not a process; we can break up extensity, but not duration. Or,
- if we persist in analysing it, we unconsciously transform the process
- into a thing and duration into extensity. By the very fact of breaking
- up concrete time we set out its moments in homogeneous space; in place
- of the doing we put the already done; and, as we have begun by, so
- to speak, stereotyping the activity of the self, we see spontaneity
- settle down into inertia and freedom into necessity. Thus, any positive
- definition of freedom will ensure the victory of determinism.
- Shall we define the free act by saying of this act, when it is once
- done, that it might have been left undone? But this assertion, as also
- its opposite, implies the idea of an absolute equivalence between
- concrete duration and its spatial symbol: and as soon as we admit this
- equivalence, we are led on, by the very development of the formula
- which we have just set forth, to the most rigid determinism.
- Shall we define the free act as "that which could not be foreseen, even
- when all the conditions were known in advance?" But to conceive all the
- conditions as given, is, when dealing with concrete duration, to place
- oneself at the very moment at which the act is being performed. Or else
- it is admitted that the matter of psychic duration can be pictured
- symbolically in advance, which amounts, as we said, to treating time
- as a homogeneous medium, and to reasserting in new words the absolute
- equivalence of duration with its symbol. A closer study of this second
- definition of freedom will thus bring us once more to determinism.
- Shall we finally define the free act by saying that it is not
- necessarily determined by its cause? But either these words lose their
- meaning or we understand by them that the same inner causes will not
- always call forth the same effects. We admit, then, that the psychic
- antecedents of a free act can be repeated, that freedom is displayed
- in a duration whose moments resemble one another, and that time is a
- homogeneous medium, like space. We shall thus be brought back to the
- idea of an equivalence between duration and its spatial symbol; and by
- pressing the definition of freedom which we have laid down, we shall
- once more get determinism out of it.
- To sum up; every demand for explanation in regard to freedom comes
- back, without our suspecting it, to the following question: "Can time
- be adequately represented by space?" To which we answer: Yes, if you
- are dealing with time flown; No, if you speak of time flowing. Now, the
- free act takes place in time which is flowing and not in time which has
- already flown. Freedom is therefore a fact, and among the facts which
- we observe there is none clearer. All the difficulties of the problem,
- and the problem itself, arise from the desire to endow duration with
- the same attributes as extensity, to interpret a succession by a
- simultaneity, and to express the idea of freedom in a language into
- which it is obviously untranslatable.
- CONCLUSION
- [Sidenote: Modern psychology holds hat we perceive things through forms
- borrowed from our own constitution.]
- To sum up the foregoing discussion, we shall put aside for the present
- Kant's terminology and also his doctrine, to which we shall return
- later, and we shall take the point of view of common sense. Modern
- psychology seems to us particularly concerned to prove that we perceive
- things through the medium of certain forms, borrowed from our own
- constitution. This tendency has become more and more marked since Kant:
- while the German philosopher drew a sharp line of separation between
- time and space, the extensive and the intensive, and, as we should say
- to-day, consciousness and external perception, the empirical school,
- carrying analysis still further, tries to reconstruct the extensive out
- of the intensive, space out of duration, and externality out of inner
- states. Physics, moreover, comes in to complete the work of psychology
- in this respect: it shows that, if we wish to forecast phenomena,
- we must make a clean sweep of the impression which they produce on
- consciousness and treat sensations as signs of reality, not as reality
- itself.
- [Sidenote: But are not the states of the self perceived through forms
- borrowed from the external world?]
- It seemed to us that there was good reason to set ourselves the
- opposite problem and to ask whether the most obvious states of the
- ego itself, which we believe that we grasp directly, are not mostly
- perceived through the medium of certain forms borrowed from the
- external world, which thus gives us back what we have lent it. _A
- priori_ it seems fairly probable that this is what happens. For,
- assuming that the forms alluded to, into which we fit matter, come
- entirely from the mind, it seems difficult to apply them constantly to
- objects without the latter soon leaving a mark on them: by then using
- these forms to gain a knowledge of our own person we run the risk of
- mistaking for the colouring of the self the reflection of the frame
- in which we place it, i.e. the external world. But one can go further
- still and assert that forms applicable to things cannot be entirely our
- own work, that they must result from a compromise between matter and
- mind, that if we give much to matter we probably receive something from
- it, and that thus, when we try to grasp ourselves after an excursion
- into the external world, we no longer have our hands free.
- [Sidenote: To understand the intensity, duration and voluntary
- determination of psychic states, we must eliminate the idea of space.]
- Now just as, in order to ascertain the real relations of physical
- phenomena to one another, we abstract whatever obviously clashes with
- them in our way of perceiving and thinking, so, in order to view the
- self in its original purity, psychology ought to eliminate or correct
- certain forms which bear the obvious mark of the external world. What
- are these forms? When isolated from one another and regarded as so many
- distinct units, psychic states seem to be more or less _intense._ Next,
- looked at in their multiplicity, they unfold in time and constitute
- _duration._ Finally, in their relations to one another, and in so
- far as a certain unity is preserved throughout their multiplicity,
- they seem to _determine_ one another. Intensity, duration, voluntary
- determination, these are the three ideas which had to be clarified by
- ridding them of all that they owe to the intrusion of the sensible
- world and, in a word, to the obsession of the idea of space.
- [Sidenote: Intensity is quality and not quantity or magnitude.]
- Examining the first of these ideas, we found that psychic phenomena
- were in themselves pure quality or qualitative multiplicity, and that,
- on the other hand, their cause situated in space was quantity. In so
- far as this quality becomes the sign of the quantity and we suspect
- the presence of the latter behind the former, we call it intensity.
- The intensity of a simple state, therefore, is not quantity but its
- qualitative sign. You will find that it arises from a compromise
- between pure quality, which is the state of consciousness, and pure
- quantity, which is necessarily space. Now you give up this compromise
- without the least scruple when you study external things, since you
- then leave aside the forces themselves, assuming that they exist,
- and consider only their measurable and extended effects. Why, then,
- do you keep to this hybrid concept when you analyse in its turn the
- state of consciousness? If magnitude, outside you, is never intensive,
- intensity, within you, is never magnitude. It is through having
- overlooked this that philosophers have been compelled to distinguish
- two kinds of quantity, the one extensive, the other intensive, without
- ever succeeding in explaining what they had in common or how the
- same words "increase" and "decrease" could be used for things so
- unlike. In the same way they are responsible for the exaggerations of
- psychophysics, for as soon as the power of increasing in magnitude
- is attributed to sensation in any other than a metaphorical sense,
- we are invited to find out by how much it increases. And, although
- consciousness does not measure intensive quantity, it does not follow
- that science may not succeed indirectly in doing so, if it be a
- magnitude. Hence, either a psychophysical formula is possible or the
- intensity of a simple psychic state is pure quality.
- [Sidenote: Our conscious states not a discreet multiplicity.]
- Turning then to the concept of multiplicity, we saw that to construct a
- number we must first have the intuition of a homogeneous medium, viz.
- space, in which terms distinct from one another could be set out in
- line, and, secondly, a process of permeation and organization by which
- these units are dynamically added together and form what we called a
- qualitative multiplicity. It is owing to this dynamic process that
- the units _get added,_ but it is because of their presence in space
- that they remain _distinct._ Hence number or discrete multiplicity
- also results from a compromise. Now, when we consider material objects
- in themselves, we give up this compromise, since we regard them as
- impenetrable and divisible, i.e. endlessly distinct from one another.
- Therefore, we must give it up, too, when we study our own selves. It
- is through having failed to do so that associationism has made many
- mistakes, such as trying to reconstruct a psychic state by the addition
- of distinct states of consciousness, thus substituting the symbol of
- the ego for the ego itself.
- These preliminary considerations enabled us to approach the principal
- object of this work, the analysis of the ideas of duration and
- voluntary determination.
- [Sidenote: Inner duration is a qualitative multiplicity.]
- What is duration within us? A qualitative multiplicity, with no
- likeness to number; an organic evolution which is yet not an increasing
- quantity; a pure heterogeneity within which there are no distinct
- qualities. In a word, the moments of inner duration are not external to
- one another.
- [Sidenote: In the external we find not duration but simultaneity.]
- What duration is there existing outside us? The present only, or, if we
- prefer the expression, simultaneity. No doubt external things change,
- but their moments do not _succeed_ one another, if we retain the
- ordinary meaning of the word, except for a consciousness which keeps
- them in mind. We observe outside us at a given moment a whole system
- of simultaneous positions; of the simultaneities which have preceded
- them nothing remains. To put duration in space is really to contradict
- oneself and place succession within simultaneity. Hence we must not
- say that external things _endure,_ but rather that there is in them
- some inexpressible reason in virtue of which we cannot examine them at
- successive moments of our own duration without observing that they have
- changed. But this change does not involve succession unless the word is
- taken in a new meaning: on this point we have noted the agreement of
- science and common sense.
- Thus in consciousness we find states which succeed, without being
- distinguished from one another; and in space simultaneities which,
- without succeeding, are distinguished from one another, in the sense
- that one has ceased to exist when the other appears. Outside us, mutual
- externality without succession; within us, succession without mutual
- externality.
- [Sidenote: The idea of a measurable time arises from compromise between
- ideas of succession and externality.]
- Here again a compromise comes in. To the simultaneities, which
- constitute the external world, and, although distinct, succeed
- one another _for our consciousness,_ we attribute succession _in
- themselves._ Hence the idea that things _endure_ as we do ourselves
- and that time may be brought within space. But while our consciousness
- thus introduces succession into external things, inversely these things
- themselves externalize the successive moments of our inner duration
- in relation to one another. The simultaneities of physical phenomena,
- absolutely distinct in the sense that the one has ceased to be when
- the other takes place, cut up into portions, which are also distinct
- and external to one another, an inner life in which succession implies
- interpenetration, just as the pendulum of a clock cuts up into distinct
- fragments and spreads out, so to speak, lengthwise, the dynamic and
- undivided tension of the spring. Thus, by a real process of endosmosis
- we get the mixed idea of a measurable time, which is space in so far as
- it is homogeneity, and duration in so far as it is succession, that is
- to say, at bottom, the contradictory idea of succession in simultaneity.
- [Sidenote: As science eliminates duration from the outer, philosophy
- must eliminate space from the inner world.]
- Now, these two elements, extensity and duration, science tears asunder
- when it undertakes the close study of external things. For we have
- pointed out that science retains nothing of duration but simultaneity,
- and nothing of motion itself position of the moving body, i.e.
- immobility. A very sharp separation is here made and space gets the
- best of it.
- Therefore the same separation will have to be made again, but this time
- to the advantage of duration, when inner phenomena are studied,--not
- inner phenomena once developed, to be sure, or after the discursive
- reason has separated them and set them out in a homogeneous medium in
- order to understand them, but inner phenomena in their developing, and
- in so far as they make up, by their interpenetration, the continuous
- evolution of a free person. Duration, thus restored to its original
- purity, will appear as a wholly qualitative multiplicity, an absolute
- heterogeneity of elements which pass over into one another.
- [Sidenote: The neglect to separate extensity and duration leads one
- party to deny freedom and the other to define it.]
- Now it is because they have neglected to make this necessary separation
- that one party has been led to deny freedom and the other to define it,
- and thereby, involuntarily, to deny it too. They ask in fact whether
- the act could or could not be foreseen, the whole of its conditions
- being given; and whether they assert it or deny it, they admit that
- this totality of conditions could be conceived as given in advance:
- which amounts, as we have shown, to treating duration as a homogeneous
- thing and intensities as magnitudes. They will either say that the
- act is _determined_ by its conditions, without perceiving that they
- are playing on the double sense of the word causality, and that
- they are thus giving to duration at the same time two forms which
- are mutually exclusive. Or else they will appeal to the principle of
- the conservation of energy, without asking whether this principle is
- equally applicable to the moments of the external world, which are
- equivalent to one another, and to the moments of a living and conscious
- being, which acquire a richer and richer content. In whatever way, in
- a word, freedom is viewed, it cannot be denied except on condition of
- identifying time with space; it cannot be defined except on condition
- of demanding that space should adequately represent time; it cannot
- be argued about in one sense or the other except on condition of
- previously confusing succession and simultaneity. All determinism will
- thus be refuted by experience, but every attempt to define freedom will
- open the way to determinism.
- [Sidenote: This separation favourable to physical science, but against
- the interests of language and social life.]
- Inquiring then why this separation of duration and extensity, which
- science carries out so naturally in the external world, demands such
- an effort and rouses so much repugnance when it is a question of inner
- states, we were not long in perceiving the reason. The main object of
- science is to forecast and measure: now we cannot forecast physical
- phenomena except on condition that we assume that they do not _endure_
- as we do; and, on the other hand, the only thing we are able to measure
- is space. Hence the breach here comes about of itself between quality
- and quantity, between true duration and pure extensity. But when we
- turn to our conscious states, we have everything to gain by keeping
- up the illusion through which we make them share in the reciprocal
- externality of outer things, because this distinctness, and at the
- same time this solidification, enables us to give them fixed names
- in spite of their instability, and distinct ones in spite of their
- interpenetration. It enables us to objectify them, to throw them out
- into the current of social life.
- [Sidenote: Hence two different selves: (1) the fundamental self; (2)
- its spatial and social representation: only the former is free.]
- Hence there are finally two different selves, one of which is, as
- it were, the external projection of the other, its spatial and,
- so to speak, social representation. We reach the former by deep
- introspection, which leads us to grasp our inner states as living
- things, constantly _becoming,_ as states not amenable to measure,
- which permeate one another and of which the succession in duration has
- nothing in common with juxtaposition in homogeneous space. But the
- moments at which we thus grasp ourselves are rare, and that is just
- why we are rarely free. The greater part of the time we live outside
- ourselves, hardly perceiving anything of ourselves but our own ghost, a
- colourless shadow which pure duration projects into homogeneous space.
- Hence our life unfolds in space rather than in time; we live for the
- external world rather than for ourselves; we speak rather than think;
- we "are acted" rather than act ourselves. To act freely is to recover
- possession of oneself, and to get back into pure duration.
- [Sidenote: Kant clung to freedom, but put the self which is free
- outside both space and time.]
- Kant's great mistake was to take time as a homogeneous medium. He did
- not notice that real duration is made up of moments inside one another,
- and that when it seems to assume the form of a homogeneous whole, it
- is because it gets expressed in space. Thus the very distinction which
- he makes between space and time amounts at bottom to confusing time
- with space, and the symbolical representation of the ego with the ego
- itself. He thought that consciousness was incapable of perceiving
- psychic states otherwise than by juxtaposition, forgetting that a
- medium in which these states are set side by side and distinguished
- from one another is of course space, and not duration. He was thereby
- led to believe that the same states can recur in the depths of
- consciousness, just as the same physical phenomena are repeated in
- space; this at least is what he implicitly admitted when he ascribed to
- the causal relation the same meaning and the same function in the inner
- as in the outer world. Thus freedom was made into an incomprehensible
- fact. And yet, owing to his unlimited though unconscious confidence
- in this inner perception whose scope he tried to restrict, his belief
- in freedom remained unshakable. He therefore raised it to the sphere
- of noumena; and as he had confused duration with space, he made this
- genuine free self, which is indeed outside space, into a self which is
- supposed to be outside duration too, and therefore out of the reach
- of our faculty of knowledge. But the truth is that we perceive this
- self whenever, by a strenuous effort of reflection, we turn our eyes
- from the shadow which follows us and retire into ourselves. Though we
- generally live and act outside our own person, in space rather than
- in duration, and though by this means we give a handle to the law of
- causality, which binds the same effects to the same causes, we can
- nevertheless always get back into pure duration, of which the moments
- are internal and heterogeneous to one another, and in which a cause
- cannot repeat its effect since it will never repeat itself.
- [Sidenote: Kant regarded both space and time as homogeneous.]
- In this very confusion of true duration with its symbol both the
- strength and the weakness of Kantianism reside. Kant imagines on the
- one side "things in themselves," and on the other a homogeneous Time
- and Space, through which the "things in themselves," are refracted:
- thus are supposed to arise on the one hand the phenomenal self--a self
- which consciousness perceives--and, on the other, external objects.
- Time and space on this view would not be any more in us than outside
- us; the very distinction of outside and inside would be the work of
- time and space. This doctrine has the advantage of providing our
- empirical thought with a solid foundation, and of guaranteeing that
- phenomena, as phenomena, are adequately knowable. Indeed, we might set
- up these phenomena as absolute and do without the incomprehensible
- "things in themselves," were it not that the Practical Reason, the
- revealer of duty, came in, like the Platonic reminiscence, to warn
- us that the "thing in itself" exists, invisible but present. The
- controlling factor in the whole of this theory is the very sharp
- distinction between the matter of consciousness and its form, between
- the homogeneous and the heterogeneous, and this vital distinction would
- probably never have been made unless time also had been regarded as a
- medium indifferent to what fills it.
- [Sidenote: But if time, as duration, were homogeneous, science could
- deal with it.]
- But if time, as immediate consciousness perceives it, were, like space,
- a homogeneous medium, science would be able to deal with it, as it can
- with space. Now we have tried to prove that duration, as duration, and
- motion, as motion, elude the grasp of mathematics: of time everything
- slips through its fingers but simultaneity, and of movement everything
- but immobility. This is what the Kantians and even their opponents
- do not seem to have perceived: in this so-called phenomenal world,
- which, we are told, is a world cut out for scientific knowledge, all
- the relations which cannot be translated into simultaneity, i.e. into
- space, are scientifically unknowable.
- [Sidenote: And freedom would be incomprehensible. Kant's solution.]
- In the second place, in a duration assumed to be homogeneous, the
- same states could occur over again, causality would imply necessary
- determination, and all freedom would become incomprehensible. Such,
- indeed, is the result to which the Critique of Pure Reason leads. But
- instead of concluding from this that real duration is heterogeneous,
- which, by clearing up the second difficulty, would have called his
- attention to the first, Kant preferred to put freedom outside time and
- to raise an impassable barrier between the world of phenomena, which
- he hands over root and branch to our understanding, and the world of
- things in themselves, which he forbids us to enter.
- [Sidenote: How corrected by taking real duration into account.]
- But perhaps this distinction is too sharply drawn and perhaps the
- barrier is easier to cross than he supposed. For if perchance the
- moments of real duration, perceived by an attentive consciousness,
- permeated one another instead of lying side by side, and if these
- moments formed in relation to one another a heterogeneity within which
- the idea of necessary determination lost every shred of meaning, then
- the self grasped by consciousness would be a free cause, we should have
- absolute knowledge of ourselves, and, on the other hand, just because
- this absolute constantly commingles with phenomena and, while filling
- itself with them, permeates them, these phenomena themselves would not
- be as amenable as is claimed to mathematical reasoning,
- [Sidenote: With Kant, we assume a homogeneous space, the intuition of
- which is peculiar to man and prepares the way for social life.]
- So we have assumed the existence of a homogeneous Space and, with
- Kant, distinguished this space from the matter which fills it.
- With him we have admitted that homogeneous space is a "form of our
- sensibility": and we understand by this simply that other minds, e.g.
- those of animals, social life, although they perceive objects, do not
- distinguish them so clearly either from one another or from themselves.
- This intuition of a homogeneous medium, an intuition peculiar to man,
- enables us to externalize our concepts in relation to one another,
- reveals to us the objectivity of things, and thus, in two ways, on the
- one hand by getting everything ready for language, and on the other by
- showing us an external world, quite distinct from ourselves, in the
- perception of which all minds have a common share, foreshadows and
- prepares the way for social life.
- [Sidenote: But if concrete duration is heterogeneous, the relation of
- psychic state to act is unique and the act is rightly judged free.]
- Over against this homogeneous space we have put the self as perceived
- by an attentive consciousness, a living self, whose states, at once
- undistinguished and unstable, cannot _be_ separated without changing
- their nature, and cannot receive a fixed form or be expressed in
- words without becoming public property. How could this self, which
- distinguishes external objects so sharply and represents them so easily
- by means of symbols, withstand the temptation to introduce the same
- distinctions into its own life and to replace the interpenetration
- of its psychic states, their wholly qualitative multiplicity, by a
- numerical plurality of terms which are distinguished from one another,
- set side by side, and expressed by means of words? In place of a
- heterogeneous duration whose moments permeate one another, we thus
- get a homogeneous time whose moments are strung on a spatial line. In
- place of an inner life whose successive phases, each unique of its
- kind, cannot be expressed in the fixed terms of language, we get a self
- which can be artificially reconstructed, and simple psychic states
- which can be added to and taken from one another just like the letters
- of the alphabet in forming words. Now, this must not be thought to be
- a mode of symbolical representation only, for immediate intuition and
- discursive thought are one in concrete reality, and the very mechanism
- by which we only meant at first to explain our conduct will end by
- also controlling it. Our psychic states, separating then from each
- other, will get solidified; between our ideas, thus crystallized, and
- our external movements we shall witness permanent associations being
- formed; and little by little, as our consciousness thus imitates the
- process by which nervous matter procures reflex actions, automatism
- will cover over freedom.[10] It is just at this point that the
- associationists and the determinists come in on the one side, and the
- Kantians on the other. As they look at only the commonest aspect of
- our conscious life, they perceive clearly marked states, which can
- recur in time like physical phenomena, and to which the law of causal
- determination applies, if we wish, in the same sense as it does to
- nature. As, on the other hand, the medium in which these psychic states
- are set side by side exhibits parts external to one another, in which
- the same facts seem capable of being repeated, they do not hesitate to
- make time a homogeneous medium and treat it as space. Henceforth all
- difference between duration and extensity, succession and simultaneity,
- is abolished: the only thing left is to turn freedom out of doors,
- or, if you cannot entirely throw off your traditional respect for it,
- to escort it with all due ceremony up to the supratemporal domain of
- "things in themselves," whose mysterious threshold your consciousness
- cannot cross. But, in our view, there is a third course which might be
- taken, namely, to carry ourselves back in thought to those moments of
- our life when we made some serious decision, moments unique of their
- kind, which will never be repeated--**any more than the past phases
- in the history of a nation will ever come back again. We should see
- that if these past states cannot be adequately expressed in words or
- artificially reconstructed by a juxtaposition of simpler states, it is
- because in their dynamic unity and wholly qualitative multiplicity they
- are phases of our real and concrete duration, a heterogeneous duration
- and a living one. We should see that, if our action was pronounced by
- us to be free, it is because the relation of this action to the state
- from which it issued could not be expressed by a law, this psychic
- state being unique of its kind and unable ever to occur again. We
- should see, finally, that the very idea of necessary determination here
- loses every shred of meaning, that there cannot be any question either
- of foreseeing the act before it is performed or of reasoning about the
- possibility of the contrary action once the deed is done, for to have
- all the conditions given is, in concrete duration, to place oneself
- at the very moment of the act and not to foresee it. But we should
- also understand the illusion which makes the one party think that they
- are compelled to deny freedom, and the others that they must define
- it. It is because the transition is made by imperceptible steps from
- concrete duration, whose elements permeate one another, to symbolical
- duration, whose moments are set side by side, and consequently from
- free activity to conscious automatism. It is because, although we are
- free whenever we are willing to get back into ourselves, it seldom
- happens that we are willing. It is because, finally, even in the
- cases where the action is freely performed, we cannot reason about it
- without setting out its conditions externally to one another, therefore
- in space and no longer in pure duration. The problem of freedom has
- thus sprung from a misunderstanding: it has been to the moderns what
- the paradoxes of the Eleatics were to the ancients, and, like these
- paradoxes, it has its origin in the illusion through which we confuse
- succession and simultaneity, duration and extensity, quality and
- quantity.
- [1] On this point see Lange, _History of Materialism,_ Vol. ii, Part ii.
- [2] Cf. _Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy._5th ed., (1878),
- p. 583.
- [3] _Ibid._ p. 585.
- [4] _Ibid._ p. 585.
- [5] _The Emotions and the Will,_ Chap. vi.
- [6] Fouillée, _La Liberté et le Déterminisme._
- [7] In Molière's comedy _Le Misanthrope, (Tr.)_.
- [8] _Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy._ 5th ed., (1878), p.
- 580.
- [9] _Ibid._ p. 583.
- [10] of these voluntary acts which may be compared to reflex movements,
- and he has restricted freedom to moments of crisis. But he does not
- seem to have noticed that the process of our free activity goes
- on, as it were, unknown to ourselves, in the obscure depths of our
- consciousness at every moment of duration, that the very feeling of
- duration comes from this source, and that without this heterogeneous
- and continuous duration, in which our self evolves, there would be no
- moral crisis. The study, even the close study, of a given free action
- will thus not settle the problem of freedom. The whole series of our
- heterogeneous states of consciousness must be taken into consideration.
- In other words, it is in a close analysis of the idea of duration that
- the key to the problem must be sought.
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