{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56852/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56852","id":"gutenberg_56852","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56852","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Consciousness","Free will and determinism","Nobel Prizes in Literature","Space and time"],"text":"Produced by Clare Graham & Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature\n(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\nTIME\n\nAND FREE WILL\n\nAn Essay on the Immediate Data\nof Consciousness\n\nBY\n\nHENRI BERGSON\n\nMEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE\n\nPROFESSOR AT THE COLL\u00c8GE DE FRANCE\n\nAuthorized Translation _by_\n\nF. L. POGSON, M.A.\n\nLONDON\n\nGEORGE ALLEN & COMPANY, LTD.\n\nRUSKIN HOUSE, 44 AND 45 RATHBONE PLACE\n\nNEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n\n1913\n\n\n\n\u039a\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b5\u1f34 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03af\u03bd \u1f14\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf \u03c4\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f14\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b5\u1fd0\n\u03b5\u1f30 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe1 \u1f10\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b8\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u0390\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, \u03b5\u1f34\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\n\u1f04\u03bd \"\u1f10\u03c7\u03c1\u1fc6\u03bd \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03bc\u1f74 \u1f10\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u1f02\u03bd, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b9\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\n\u03c3\u03b9\u03c9\u03c0\u1fc7, \u1f64\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u1f10\u03b3\u1f7c \u03c3\u03b9\u03c9\u03c0\u03ce \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u03b5\u1f34\u03b8\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd.\"\n\nPLOTINUS.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE\n\n\nHenri Louis Bergson was born in Paris, October 18, 1859. He entered the\n\u00c9cole normale in 1878, and was admitted agr\u00e9g\u00e9 de philosophie in 1881\nand docteur \u00e8s lettres in 1889. After holding professorships in various\nprovincial and Parisian lyc\u00e9es, he became ma\u00eetre de conf\u00e9rences at the\n\u00c9cole normale sup\u00e9rieure in 1897, and since 1900 has been professor at\nthe Coll\u00e8ge de France. In 1901 he became a member of the Institute on\nhis election to the Acad\u00e9mie des Sciences morales et politiques.\n\nA full list of Professor Bergson's works is given in the appended\nbibliography. In making the following translation of his _Essai sur les\ndonn\u00e9es imm\u00e9diates de la conscience_ I have had the great advantage of\nhis co-operation at every stage, and the aid which he has given has\nbeen most generous and untiring. The book itself was worked out and\nwritten during the years 1883 to 1887 and was originally published in\n1889. The foot-notes in the French edition contain a certain number\nof references to French translations of English works. In the present\ntranslation I am responsible for citing these references from the\noriginal English. This will account for the fact that editions are\nsometimes referred to which have appeared subsequently to 1889. I have\nalso added fairly extensive marginal summaries and a full index.\n\nIn France the _Essai_ is already in its seventh edition. Indeed,\none of the most striking facts about Professor Bergson's works is\nthe extent to which they have appealed not only to the professional\nphilosophers, but also to the ordinary cultivated public. The method\nwhich he pursues is not the conceptual and abstract method which has\nbeen the dominant tradition in philosophy. For him reality is not to\nbe reached by any elaborate construction of thought: it is given in\nimmediate experience as a flux, a continuous process of becoming, to\nbe grasped by intuition, by sympathetic insight. Concepts break up\nthe continuous flow of reality into parts external to one another,\nthey further the interests of language and social life and are useful\nprimarily for practical purposes. But they give us nothing of the life\nand movement of reality; rather, by substituting for this an artificial\nreconstruction, a patchwork of dead fragments, they lead to the\ndifficulties which have always beset the intellectualist philosophy,\nand which on its premises are insoluble. Instead of attempting a\nsolution in the intellectualist sense, Professor Bergson calls upon\nhis readers to put these broken fragments of reality behind them, to\nimmerse themselves in the living stream of things and to find their\ndifficulties swept away in its resistless flow.\n\nIn the present volume Professor Bergson first deals with the intensity\nof conscious states. He shows that quantitative differences are\napplicable only to magnitudes, that is, in the last resort, to space,\nand that intensity in itself is purely qualitative. Passing then from\nthe consideration of separate conscious states to their multiplicity,\nhe finds that there are two forms of multiplicity: quantitative\nor discrete multiplicity involves the intuition of space, but the\nmultiplicity of conscious states is wholly qualitative. This unfolding\nmultiplicity constitutes duration, which is a succession without\ndistinction, an interpenetration of elements so heterogeneous that\nformer states can never recur. The idea of a homogeneous and measurable\ntime is shown to be an artificial concept, formed by the intrusion of\nthe idea of space into the realm of pure duration. Indeed, the whole of\nProfessor Bergson's philosophy centres round his conception of _real\nconcrete duration_ and the specific _feeling_ of duration which our\nconsciousness has when it does away with convention and habit and gets\nback to its natural attitude. At the root of most errors in philosophy\nhe finds a confusion between this _concrete duration_ and the _abstract\ntime_ which mathematics, physics, and even language and common sense,\nsubstitute for it. Applying these results to the problem of free\nwill, he shows that the difficulties arise from taking up one's\nstand _after_ the act has been performed, and applying the conceptual\nmethod to it. From the point of view of the living, developing self\nthese difficulties are shown to be illusory, and freedom, though not\ndefinable in abstract or conceptual terms, is declared to be one of the\nclearest facts established by observation.\n\nIt is no doubt misleading to attempt to sum up a system of philosophy\nin a sentence, but perhaps some part of the spirit of Professor\nBergson's philosophy may be gathered from the motto which, with his\npermission, I have prefixed to this translation:--\"If a man were to\ninquire of Nature the reason of her creative activity, and if she\nwere willing to give ear and answer, she would say--'Ask me not, but\nunderstand in silence, even as I am silent and am not wont to speak.'\"\n\nF. L. POGSON.\n\nOXFORD,\n\n_June,_ 1910.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n\nI. WORKS BY BERGSON.\n\n\n(a) _Books._\n\nQuid Aristoteles de loco senserit, (Thesis), Paris, 1889. Essai sur les\ndonn\u00e9es imm\u00e9diates de la conscience, Paris, 1889, 1910\u2077.\n\nMati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire, Essai sur la relation du corps avec l'esprit,\nParis, 1896, 1910\u2076.\n\nLe Rire, Essai sur la signification du comique, Paris, 1900,\n1910\u2076. (First published in the _Revue de Paris,_ 1900, Vol.\nI., pp. 512-545 and 759-791.)\n\nL'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice, Paris, 1907, 1910\u2076.\n\n(b) _Articles._\n\nLa Sp\u00e9cialit\u00e9. (Address at the distribution of prizes at the lyc\u00e9e of\nAngers, Aug. 1882.)\n\nDe la simulation inconsciente dans l'\u00e9tat d'hypnotisme. _Revue\nphilosophique,_ Vol. 22, 1886, pp. 525-531. Le bon sens et les \u00e9tudes\nclassiques. (Address at the distribution of prizes at the \"Concours\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ral des lyc\u00e9es et coll\u00e8ges,\" 1895.)\n\nM\u00e9moire et reconnaissance. (_Revue philos._ Mar., Apr. 1896, pp.\n225-248 and 380-399. Republished in _Mati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire._)\n\nPerception et mati\u00e8re. (_Rev. de M\u00e9t. et de Mor._ May 1896, pp.\n257-277. Republished in _Mati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire._)\n\nNote sur les origines psychologiques de notre croyance \u00e0 la loi\nde causalit\u00e9. (Lecture at the Philosophical Congress in Paris,\n1900, published in the _Biblioth\u00e8que du Congr\u00e8s International de\nPhilosophie;_ cf. _Revue de M\u00e9taphysique et de Morale,_ Sept. 1900, pp.\n655 ff.)\n\nLe R\u00eave. (Lecture at the _Institut psychologique international_:\npublished in the _Bulletin de l'Institut psych. intern._ May 1901; cf.\n_Revue scientifique,_ 4e S., Vol. 15, June 8, 1901, pp. 705-713, and\n_Revue de Philosophie,_ June 1901, pp. 486-488.)\n\nLe Parall\u00e9lisme psycho-physique et la m\u00e9taphysique positive. _Bulletin\nde la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 fran\u00e7aise de Philosophie,_ June 1901.\n\nL'Effort intellectuel. _Revue philosophique,_ Jan. 1902. Introduction \u00e0\nla m\u00e9taphysique. _Revue de M\u00e9t. et de Mor._ Jan. 1903.\n\nLe Paralogisme psycho-physiologique. (Lecture at the Philosophical\nCongress in Geneva, 1904, published in the _Revue de M\u00e9t. et de Mor._\nNov. 1904, pp. 895-908; see also pp. 1027-1036.)\n\nL'Id\u00e9e de n\u00e9ant, _Rev. philos._ Nov. 1906, pp. 449-466. (Part of Chap.\n4 of _L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice._)\n\nNotice sur la vie et les \u0153uvres de M. F\u00e9lix Ravaisson-Mollien. (Lecture\nbefore the Acad\u00e9mie des Sciences morales et politiques: published in\nthe _Proceedings_ of the Academy, Vol. 25, pp. 1 ff. Paris, 1907.)\n\nLe Souvenir du pr\u00e9sent et la fausse reconnaissance. _Rev. philos._ Dec.\n1908, pp. 561-593.\n\n(c) _Miscellaneous._\n\n_Lucr\u00e8ce:_ Extraits ... avec une \u00e9tude sur la po\u00e9sie, la philosophie,\nla physique, le texte et la langue de Lucr\u00e8ce. Paris, 1884.\n\nPrincipes de m\u00e9taphysique et de psychologie d'apr\u00e8s M. Paul Janet.\n_Revue philos.,_ Vol. 44, Nov. 1897, pp. 525-551.\n\nCollaboration au _Vocabulaire philosophique, Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de\nPhil._ July 1902, Aug. 1907, Aug. 1908, Aug. 1909.\n\nRemarques sur la place et le caract\u00e8re de la Philosophie dans\nl'Enseignement secondaire, _Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de Phil._ Feb.\n1903, pp. 44 ff.\n\nRemarques sur la notion de la libert\u00e9 morale, _Bulletin de la Soc. fr.\nde Phil._ Apr. 1903, pp. 101-103.\n\nRemarques \u00e0 propos de la philosophie sociale de Cournot, _Bulletin de\nla Soc. fr. de Phil._ Aug. 1903, p. 229.\n\nPr\u00e9face de la _Psychologie rationnelle_ de M. Lubac, Paris, Alcan, 1904.\n\nSur sa relation \u00e0 W. James, _Revue philosophique,_ Vol. 60, 1905, p.\n229 f.\n\nSur sa th\u00e9orie de la perception, _Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de Philos._\nMar. 1905, pp. 94 ff.\n\nRapport sur le concours pour le prix Bordin, 1905, ayant pour sujet\nMaine de Biran. (_M\u00e9moires de l'Acad\u00e9mie des Sciences morales et\npolitiques,_ Vol. 25, pp. 809 ff., Paris, 1907.)\n\nRapport sur le concours pour le prix Le Dissez de Penanrun, 1907.\n(_M\u00e9moires de l'Acad\u00e9mie des Sciences morales et politiques,_ Vol. 26,\npp. 771 ff. Paris, 1909.)\n\nSur _l'\u00cavolution cr\u00e9atrice, Revue du Mois,_ Sept. 1907, p. 351.\n\nA propos de l'\u00e9volution de l'intelligence g\u00e9om\u00e9trique, _Revue de M\u00e9t.\net de Mor._ Jan. 1908, pp. 28-33.\n\nSur l'influence de sa philosophie sur les \u00e9l\u00e8ves des lyc\u00e9es,\n_Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de Philos.,_ Jan. 1908, p. 21; cf. _L'Ann\u00e9e\npsychologique,_ 1908, pp. 229-231.\n\nR\u00e9ponse \u00e0 une enqu\u00eate sur la question religieuse (_La Question\nreligieuse_ par Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric Charpin, Paris, 1908).\n\nRemarques sur l'organisation des Congr\u00e8s de Philosophie. _Bulletin de\nla Soc. fr. de Phil._ Jan. 1909, p. 11 f.\n\nPr\u00e9face \u00e0 un volume de la collection _Les grands philosophes,_ (_G.\nTarde,_ par ses fils). Paris. Michaud, 1909.\n\nRemarques \u00e0 propos d'une th\u00e8se soutenue par M. Dwelshauvers\n\"L'inconscient dans la vie mentale.\" _Bulletin de la Soc. fr. de\nPhil.,_ Feb. 1910.\n\nA propos d'un article de Mr. W. B. Pitkin intitule \"James and Bergson.\"\n_Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Vol. VII,\nNo. 14, July 7, 1910, pp. 385-388.\n\n\nII. SELECT LIST OF BOOKS AND ARTICLES DEALING IN WHOLE OR IN PART WITH\nBERGSON AND HIS PHILOSOPHY.\n\n(Arranged alphabetically under each language.)\n\n\n_S. Alexander, Mati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire,_ (_Mind,_ Oct. 1897, pp. 572-3).\n\n_B. H. Bode, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice_, (_Philosophical Review_, 1908, pp.\n84-89).\n\n_W. Boyd, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice_, (_Review of Theology and Philosophy,_\nOct. 1907, pp. 249-251).\n\n_H. Wildon Carr,_ Bergson's Theory of Knowledge, (_Proceedings of the\nAristotelian Society,_ London, 1909. New Series, Vol. IX, pp. 41-60).\n\n_H. Wildon Carr,_ Bergson's Theory of Instinct, (_Proceedings of the\nAristotelian Society,_ London, 1910, N.S., Vol. X).\n\n_H. Wildon Carr,_ The Philosophy of Bergson, (_Hibbert Journal,_ July\n1910, pp. 873-883).\n\n_W. J. Ferrar, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Commonwealth,_ Dec. 1909, pp.\n364-367).\n\n_H. N. Gardiner, M\u00e9moire et reconnaissance,_ (_Psychological Review,_\n1896, pp. 578-580).\n\n_T. E. Hulme,_ The New Philosophy, (_New Age,_ July 1, 29, 1909).\n\n_William James,_ A Pluralistic Universe, London, 1909, pp. 225-273.\n\n_William James,_ The Philosophy of Bergson, (_Hibbert Journal,_ April\n1909, pp. 562-577. Reprinted in _A Pluralistic Universe;_ see above).\n\n_William James,_ Bradley or Bergson? (_Journal of Philosophy,\nPsychology and Scientific Methods,_ Vol. VII, No. 2, Jan. 20, 1910, pp.\n29-33).\n\n_H. M. Kallen,_ James, Bergson and Mr. Pitkin, (_Journal of Philosophy,\nPsychology and Scientific Methods,_ June 23, 1910, pp. 353-357).\n\n_A. Lalande,_ Philosophy in France, 1907, (_Philosophical Review,_ May,\n1908).\n\n_J. A. Leighton,_ On Continuity and Discreteness, (_Journal of\nPhilosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Apr. 28, 1910, pp.\n231-238).\n\n_T. Loveday, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Mind,_ July 1908, pp. 402-8).\n\n_A. O. Lovejoy,_ The Metaphysician of the Life-Force, (_Nation,_ New\nYork, Sept. 30, 1909).\n\n_A. Mitchell, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Journal of Philosophy,\nPsychology and Scientific Methods,_ Vol. V, No. 22, Oct. 22, 1908, pp.\n603-612).\n\n_W. Scott Palmer,_ Presence and Omnipresence, (_Contemporary Review,_\nJune 1908, pp. 734-742).\n\n_W. Scott Palmer,_ Thought and Instinct, (_Nation,_ June 5, 1909).\n\n_W. Scott Palmer,_ Life and the Brain, (_Contemporary Review,_ Oct.,\n1909, pp. 474-484).\n\n_W. B. Pitkin,_ James and Bergson; or, Who is against Intellect?\n(_Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods,_ Apr. 28,\n1910, pp. 225-231).\n\n_G. R. T. Ross,_ A New Theory of Laughter, (_Nation,_ Nov. 28, 1908).\n\n_G. R. T. Ross,_ The Philosophy of Vitalism, (_Nation,_ Mar. 13, 1909)\n\n_J. Royce,_ The Reality of the Temporal, (_Int. Journal of Ethics,_ Apr.\n1910, pp. 257-271).\n\n_G. M. Sauvage,_ The New Philosophy in France, (_Catholic University\nBulletin,_ Washington, Apr. 1906, Mar. 1908).\n\n_Norman Smith,_ Subjectivism and Realism in Modern Philosophy,\n(_Philosophical Review,_ Apr. 1908, pp. 138-148).\n\n_G. F. Stout,_ Free Will and Determinism, (_Speaker,_ London, May 10,\n1890).\n\n_J. H. Tufts,_ Humor, (_Psychological Review,_ 1901, pp. 98-99).\n\n_G. Tyrrell,_ Creative Evolution, (_Hibbert Journal,_ Jan. 1908, pp.\n435-442).\n\n_T. Whittaker, Essai sur les donn\u00e9es imm\u00e9diates de la conscience,_\n(_Mind,_ Apr. 1890, pp. 292-3).\n\n\n_G. Aimel,_ Individualisme et philosophie bergsonienne, (_Revue de\nPhilos.,_ June 1908).\n\n_Balthasar,_ Le probl\u00e8me de Dieu d'apr\u00e8s la philosophie nouvelle,\n(_Revue n\u00e9o-scolastique,_ Nov. 1907).\n\n_G. Batault,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson, (_Mercure de France,_ Mar.\n16, 1908, pp. 193-211).\n\n_G. Belot,_ Une th\u00e9orie nouvelle de la libert\u00e9, (_Revue philosophique,_\nVol. XXX, 1890, pp. 360-392).\n\n_G. Belot,_ Un nouveau spiritualisme, _Mati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire,_ (_Rev.\nphilos._ Vol. XLIV, 1897, pp. 183-199).\n\n_Jean Blum,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson et la po\u00e9sie symboliste,\n(_Mercure de France,_ Sept. 15, 1906).\n\n_C. Bougie,_ Syndicalistes et Bergsoniens, (_Revue du Mois,_ Apr. 1909,\npp. 403-416).\n\n_G. Cantecor,_ La philosophie nouvelle et la vie de l'esprit, (_Rev.\nphilos._ Mar. 1903, pp. 252-277).\n\n_P. C\u00e9r\u00e9sole,_ Le parall\u00e9lisme psycho-physiologique et l'argument de M.\nBergson, (_Archives de Psychologie,_ Vol. V, Oct. 1905, pp. 112-120).\n\n_A. Chaumeix,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson, (_Journal des D\u00e9bats,_\nMay 24, 1908. Reprinted in _Pragmatisme et Modernisme,_ Paris, Alcan,\n1909).\n\n_A. Chaumeix,_ Les critiques du rationalisme, (_Revue Hebdomadaire,_\nParis, Jan. 1, 1910, pp. 1-33).\n\n_A. Chide,_ Le mobilisme moderne, Paris, Alcan, 1908. (See also _Revue\nphilos.,_ Apr. 1908, Dec. 1909).\n\n_C. Coignet,_ Kant et Bergson, (_Revue Chr\u00e9tienne,_ July 1904).\n\n_C. Coignet,_ La vie d'apr\u00e8s M. Bergson, (_Bericht \u00fcber den III\nKongress f\u00fcr Philosophie,_ Heidelberg, 1909, pp. 358-364).\n\n_L. Constant,_ Cours de M. Bergson sur l'histoire de l'id\u00e9e de temps,\n(_Revue de Philos._ Jan. 1904, pp. 105-111. Summary of lectures).\n\n_P. L. Couchoud,_ La m\u00e9taphysique nouvelle, \u00e0 propos de _Mati\u00e8re et\nM\u00e9moire_ de M. Bergson, (_Revue de M\u00e9taphysique et de Morale,_ Mar.\n1902, pp. 225-243).\n\n_L. Couturat,_ La th\u00e9orie du temps de Bergson, (_Rev. de M\u00e9t. et de\nMor._ 1896, pp. 646-669).\n\n_L\u00e9on Cristiani,_ Le probl\u00e8me de Dieu et le pragmatisme, Paris, Bloud\net Cie., 1908.\n\n_F. Le Dantec, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Revue du Mois,_ Aug. 1907.\nReprinted in _Science et Conscience,_ Paris, Flammarion, 1908).\n\n_L. Dauriac, Le Rire,_ (_Revue philos._ Dec. 1900, pp. 665-670).\n\n_V. Delbos, Mati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire,_ (_Rev. de M\u00e9t. et de Mor._ May 1897,\npp. 353-389).\n\n_G. L. Duprat,_ La spatialit\u00e9 des faits psychiques, (_Rev. philos.,_\nMay 1907, pp. 492-501).\n\n_G. Dwelshauvers,_ Raison et Intuition, \u00c9tude sur la philosophie de M.\nBergson, (_La Belgique artistique et litt\u00e9raire,_ Nov. Dec. 1905, Apr.\n1906).\n\n_G. Dwelshauvers,_ M. Bergson et la m\u00e9thode intuitive, (_Revue du\nMois,_ Sept. 1907, pp. 336-350).\n\n_G. Dwelshauvers,_ De l'intuition dans l'acte de l'esprit, (_Rev. de\nM\u00e9t. et de Mor._ Jan. 1908, pp. 55-65).\n\n_A. Farges,_ Le probl\u00e8me de la contingence d'apr\u00e8s M. Bergson, (_Revue\npratique d'apolog\u00e9tique,_ Apr. 15, 1909).\n\n_A. Farges,_ L'erreur fondamentale de la philosophie nouvelle, (_Revue\nthomiste,_ May-June, 1909).\n\n_A. Farges,_ Th\u00e9orie fondamentale de l'acte, avec la critique de la\nphilosophie nouvelle de M. Bergson, Paris, Berche et Tralin, 1909.\n\n_Alfred Fouill\u00e9e,_ Le mouvement id\u00e9aliste et la r\u00e9action contre la\nscience positive, Paris, Alcan, 1896, pp. 198-206.\n\n_Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange,_ Le sens commun, la philosophie de l'\u00eatre et\nles formules dogmatiques, Paris, Beauchesne, 1909.\n\n_Jules de Gaultier,_ Le r\u00e9alisme du continu, (_Revue philos.,_ Jan.\n1910, pp. 39-64).\n\n_Ren\u00e9 Gillouin,_ Henri Bergson, Paris, 1910. (A volume in the series\n_Les grands philosophes_).\n\n_A. Hollard, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Foi et Vie,_ Sept. 16, 1907, pp.\n545-550).\n\n_B. Jacob,_ La philosophie d'hier et celle d'aujourd'hui, (_Rev. de\nM\u00e9t. et de Mor._ Mar. 1898, pp. 170-201).\n\n_G. Lechalas,_ Le nombre et le temps dans leurs rapports avec l'espace,\n(_Ann. de Phil, chr\u00e9t._ N.S. Vol. 22, 1890, pp. 516-540).\n\n_G. Lechalas, Mati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire,_ (_Ann. de Phil, chr\u00e9t._ N.S. Vol.\n36, 1897, pp. 149-164 and 314-334)\n\n_A. Joussain,_ Romantisme et Religion, Paris, Alcan, 1910.\n\n_Legendre,_ M. Bergson et son _\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice_, (_Bulletin de la\nSemaine,_ May 6, 1908).\n\n_Lenoble, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Revue du Clerg\u00e9 fran\u00e7ais,_ Jan.,\n1908).\n\n_E. Le Roy,_ Science et Philosophie, (A Series of articles in the _Rev.\nde M\u00e9t. et de Mor._ 1899 and 1900).\n\n_L. L\u00e9vy-Bruhl, L'Essai sur les donn\u00e9es imm\u00e9diates de la conscience,_\n(_Rev. philos.,_ Vol. 29, 1890, pp. 519-538).\n\n_G. H. Luquet,_ Id\u00e9es g\u00e9n\u00e9rales de psychologie, Paris, 1906.\n\n_J. Lux,_ Nos philosophes, M. Henri Bergson, (_Revue Bleue,_ Dec. 1,\n1906).\n\n_X. Moisant,_ La notion de multiplicit\u00e9 dans la philosophie de M.\nBergson, (_Revue de Philos.,_ June, 1902).\n\n_X. Moisant,_ Dieu dans la philosophie de M. Bergson, (_Revue de\nPhilos.,_ May, 1905).\n\n_G. Mondain,_ Remarques sur la th\u00e9orie mat\u00e9rialiste, (_Foi et Vie,_\nJune 15, 1908, pp. 369-373).\n\n_D. Parodi, Le Rire,_ par H. Bergson, (_Rev. de M\u00e9t. et de Mor._ Mar.\n1901, pp. 224-236).\n\n_T. M. P\u00e8gues L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice_ (_Revue thomiste,_ May-June 1908,\npp. 137-163).\n\n_C. Piat,_ De l'insuffisance des philosophies de l'intuition, Paris,\n1908.\n\n_Maurice Pradines,_ Principes de toute philosophie de l'action, Paris,\n1910.\n\n_G. Rageot, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Rev. philos.,_ July 1907).\nReprinted and enlarged in _Les savants et la philosophie,_ Paris,\nAlcan, 1907.\n\n_F. Rauh,_ La conscience du devenir, (_Rev. de M\u00e9t. et de Mor._ Nov.\n1897, pp. 659-681, and Jan. 1898, pp. 38-60).\n\n_F. Rauh,_ Sur la position du probl\u00e8me du libre arbitre, (_Rev. de M\u00e9t.\net de Mor._ Nov. 1904, pp. 977-1006).\n\n_P. P. Raymond,_ La philosophie de l'intuition et la philosophie du\nconcept, (_\u00c9tudes franciscaines,_ June 1909).\n\n_E. Seilli\u00e8re,_ L'Allemagne et la philosophie bergsonienne,\n(_L'Opinion,_ July 3, 1909).\n\n_G. Sorel, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Le Mouvement socialiste,_ Oct.\nDec. 1907, Jan. Mar. Apr. 1908).\n\n_T. Steeg,_ Henri Bergson: Notice biographique avec portrait, (_Revue\nuniverselle,_ Jan. 1902, pp. 15-16).\n\n_J. de Tonqu\u00e9bec,_ La notion de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 dans la philosophie nouvelle,\nParis, 1908.\n\n_J. de Tonqu\u00e9bec,_ Comment interpr\u00e9ter l'ordre du monde \u00e0 propos du\ndernier ouvrage de M. Bergson, Paris, Beauchesne, 1908.\n\n_H. Trouche, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Revue de Philos._ Nov. 1908).\n\n_H. Villass\u00e8re, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Bulletin critique,_ Sept.\n1908, pp. 392-411.)\n\n_Tancr\u00e8de de Visan,_ La philosophie de M. Bergson et le lyrisme\ncontemporain, (_Vers et Prose,_ Vol. XXI, 1910, pp. 125-140).\n\n_L. Weber, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Rev. de M\u00e9t. et de Mor._ Sept.\n1907, pp. 620-670).\n\n_V. Wilbois,_ L'esprit positif, (A series of articles in the _Rev. de\nM\u00e9t. et de Mor._1900 and 1901).\n\n\n_I. Benrubi,_ Henri Bergson, (_Die Zukunft,_ June 4, 1910).\n\n_K. Bornhausen,_ Die Philosophie Henri Bergsons und ihre Bedeutung\nf\u00fcr den Religionsbegriff, (_Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Theologie und Kirche,_\nT\u00fcbingen, Jahrg. XX, Heft I 1910, pp. 39-77.)\n\n_O. Braun, Materie und Ged\u00e4chtnis,_ (_Archiv f\u00fcr die gesamte\nPsychologie,_ Vol. 15, 1909, Heft 4, pp. 13-15).\n\n_Hans Driesch,_ H. Bergson, der biologische Philosoph., (_Zeitschrift\nf\u00fcr den Ausbau der Entwickelungslehre,_ Jahrg. II, Heft 1/2, Stuttgart,\n1908).\n\n_V. Eschbach,_ Henri Bergson, (_K\u00f6lnische Volkszeitung,_ Jan. 20, 1910).\n\n_Giessler, Le R\u00eave,_ (_Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Psychologie und Physiologie der\nSinnesorgane,_ Vol. 29, 1902, p. 231).\n\n_J. Goldstein,_ Henri Bergson und der Zeitlosigkeitsidealismus,\n(_Frankfurter Zeitung,_ May 2, 1909).\n\n_J. Goldstein,_ Henri Bergson und die Sozialwissenschaft, (_Archiv f\u00fcr\nSozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik,_ Bd. XXXI, Heft 1, July 1910, pp.\n1-22).\n\n_A. Gurewitsch,_ Die franz\u00f6sische Metaphysik der Gegenwart (_Archiv f\u00fcr\nsystem. Philos._ Bd. IX, Heft 4, Nov. 1903, pp. 462-490).\n\n_Heymans, Le Rire,_ (_Zeitsch. f. Psychol, u. Physiol. d.\nSinnesorgane,_ Vol. 25, 1901, pp. 155-6).\n\n_K. Jo\u00ebl,_ Neues Denken, (_Neue Rundschau,_ Apr. 1910, pp. 549-558).\n\n_H. von Keyserling,_ Bergson, (_Allgemeine Zeitung,_ M\u00fcnchen, Nov. 28,\n1908).\n\n_R. Kroner,_ Henri Bergson, (_Logos,_ Bd. I, Heft 1, T\u00fcbingen, 1910).\n\n_A. Lasson,_ H. Bergson, (_Deutsche Literaturzeitung_, May 28, 1910).\n\n_R. M\u00fcller-Freienfels, Materie und Ged\u00e4chtnis,_ (_Zeitsch. f. Psychol.\nu. Physiol, d. Sinnesorgane,_ May 1910, Vol. 56, Heft 1/2, pp. 126-129).\n\n_\u0391. Pilzecker, M\u00e9moire et reconnaissance,_ (_Zeitsch. f. Psychol., u.\nPhysiol, d. Sinnesorgane,_ Vol. 13, 1897, pp. 229-232).\n\n_Hans Prager,_ Henri Bergsons metaphysische Grundanschauung, (_Archiv\nf\u00fcr system. Philos._ 1910, Bd. XVI, Heft 3, pp. 310-320).\n\n_G. Seliber,_ Der Pragmatismus und seine Gegner, (_Archiv f\u00fcr system.\nPhilos._ 1909, pp. 287-298).\n\n_A. Steenbergen,_ Henri Bergsons Intuitive Philosophie, Jena, 1909.\n\n_W. Windelband,_ Preface to _Materie und Ged\u00e4chtnis,_ Jena, 1908, pp.\nI-XV.\n\n_Th. Ziehen, Mati\u00e8re et M\u00e9moire,_ (_Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Philosophie und\nphilos. Kritik, Dec._ 1898, pp. 295-299).\n\n_Roberto Ardig\u00f2,_ Una pretesa pregiudiziale contro il positivismo,\n(_Rivista di Filosofia e Scienze affini,_ Jan.-Feb., Mar.-Apr. 1908.\nReprinted in Collected Works, Vol. 10).\n\n_A. Crespi,_ La metafisica di H. Bergson, (_Coenobium,_ July-Aug. 1908).\n\n_L. Ferri, Essai sur les donn\u00e9es imm\u00e9diates de la conscience,_\n(_Rivista Italiana di Filosofia,_ Mar.-Apr. 1890, pp. 248-9).\n\n_A. Levi,_ Sulle ultime forme dell' indeterminismo francese, Firenze,\nCivelli, 1903.\n\n_A. Levi,_ L'Indeterminismo nella filosofia francese contemporanea,\nFirenze, Seeber, 1905.\n\n_F. Masci,_ L'idealismo indeterminista, Napoli, 1899.\n\n_E. Morselli,_ Un nuovo idealismo, (H. Bergson), Udine, Tosolini, 1900.\n\n_I. Petrone,_ Sui limiti del determinismo scientifico, Modena, 1900;\nRoma, 1903.\n\n_G. Prezzolini,_ Del linguaggio come causa di errore, (H. Bergson),\nFirenze, Spinelli, 1904.\n\n_G. Prezzolini,_ La filosofia di H. Bergson, (in _La Teoria\nSindacalista,_ Napoli, Perrella, 1909, pp. 283-335).\n\n_F. de Sarlo,_ Le correnti filosofiche del secolo XIX, (_Flegrea,_ III\n6; Sept. 20, 1901, pp. 531-554)\u00b7\n\n_G. Tarozzi,_ Della necessit\u00e0 nel fatto naturale ed umano, Torino,\nLoescher, 1896-97.\n\n_B. Varisco,_ La filosofia della contingenza, (_Rivista filosofica,_\nVol. VIII, 1905, pp. 1-37).\n\n_B. Varisco,_ La Creazione, (_Rivista filosofica,_ Mar.-Apr. 1908, pp.\n149-180).\n\n\n_C. Antoniade,_ Filosofia lui Henri Bergson, (_Studii filosofice,_\nBucarest, 1908, Vol. II, pp. 161-192 and 259-278).\n\n_F. Garcia Calder\u00f4n,_ Dos filosofos franceses, Bergson y Boutroux, (_El\nComercio,_ Lima, May 5, 1907).\n\n_E. Duprat,_ Estudios de Filosofia contemporanea: la Filosofia de H.\nBergson, (_Cultura Espanola,_ Madrid, 1908, pp. 185-202 and 567-584).\n\n_Silberstein, L'\u00c9volution cr\u00e9atrice,_ (_Przeglad Filozoficzny,_ 1908).\n\n_Michal Sobeski,_ H. Bergson, (_Kurier Warszawski,_ 20, stycznia,\n1910).\n\n\n\n\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE\n\n\nWe necessarily express ourselves by means of words and we usually\nthink in terms of space. That is to say, language requires us to\nestablish between our ideas the same sharp and precise distinctions,\nthe same discontinuity, as between material objects. This assimilation\nof thought to things is useful in practical life and necessary in\nmost of the sciences. But it may be asked whether the insurmountable\ndifficulties presented by certain philosophical problems do not arise\nfrom our placing side by side in space phenomena which do not occupy\nspace, and whether, by merely getting rid of the clumsy symbols round\nwhich we are fighting, we might not bring the fight to an end. When\nan illegitimate translation of the unextended into the extended, of\nquality into quantity, has introduced contradiction into the very heart\nof the question, contradiction must, of course, recur in the answer.\n\nThe problem which I have chosen is one which is common to metaphysics\nand psychology, the problem of free will. What I attempt to prove\nis that all discussion between the determinists and their opponents\nimplies a previous confusion of duration with extensity, of succession\nwith simultaneity, of quality with quantity: this confusion once\ndispelled, we may perhaps witness the disappearance of the objections\nraised against free will, of the definitions given of it, and, in a\ncertain sense, of the problem of free will itself. To prove this is the\nobject of the third part of the present volume: the first two chapters,\nwhich treat of the conceptions of intensity and duration, have been\nwritten as an introduction to the third.\n\nH. BERGSON.\n\n_February,_ 1888.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE INTENSITY OF PSYCHIC STATES\n\nQuantitative differences applicable to magnitudes but not to\nintensities, 1-4; Attempt to estimate intensities by objective\ncauses or atomic movements, 4-7; Different kinds of intensities, 7;\nDeep-seated psychic states: desire, 8, hope, 9, joy and sorrow, 10;\nAesthetic feelings, 11-18: grace, 12, beauty, 14-18, music, poetry,\nart, 15-18; Moral feelings, pity, 19; Conscious states involving\nphysical symptoms, 20: muscular effort, 21-26, attention and muscular\ntension, 27-28; Violent emotions, 29-31: rage, 29, fear, 30;\nAffective sensations, 32-39: pleasure and pain, 33-39, disgust, 36;\nRepresentative sensations, 39-60: and external causes, 42, sensation\nof sound, 43, intensity, pitch and muscular effort, 45-6, sensations\nof heat and cold, 46-7, sensations of pressure and weight, 47-50,\nsensation of light, 50-60, photometric experiments, 52-60, Delb\u0153uf's\nexperiments, 56-60; Psychophysics, 60-72: Weber and Fechner, 61-65,\nDelb\u0153uf, 67-70, the mistake of regarding sensations as magnitudes,\n70-72; Intensity in (1) representative, (2) affective states, intensity\nand multiplicity, 72-74.\n\n_pp._1-74\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE MULTIPLICITY OF CONSCIOUS STATES\n\nTHE IDEA OF DURATION\n\nNumber and its units, 75-77, number and accompanying intuition of\nspace, 78-85; Two kinds of multiplicity, of material objects and\nconscious states, 85-87, impenetrability of matter, 88-89, homogeneous\ntime and pure duration, 90-91; Space and its contents, 92, empirical\ntheories of space, 93-94, intuition of empty homogeneous medium\npeculiar to man, 95-97, time as homogeneous medium reducible to\nspace, 98-99; Duration, succession and space, 100-104, pure duration,\n105-106; Is duration measurable? 107-110; Is motion measurable?\n111-112; Paradox of the Eleatics, 113-115; Duration and simultaneity,\n115-116; Velocity and simultaneity, 117-119; Space alone homogeneous,\nduration and succession belong to conscious mind, 120-121; Two kinds\nof multiplicity, qualitative and quantitative, 121-123, superficial\npsychic states invested with discontinuity of their external causes,\n124-126, these eliminated, real duration is felt as a quality, 127-128;\nThe two aspects of the self, on the surface well-defined conscious\nstates, deeper down states which interpenetrate and form organic whole,\n129-139, solidifying influence of language on sensation, 129-132,\nanalysis distorts the feelings, 132-134, deeper conscious states\nforming a part of ourselves, 134-136; Problems soluble only by recourse\nto the concrete and living self, 137-139.\n\n_pp._ 75-139\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE ORGANIZATION OF CONSCIOUS STATES\n\nFREE WILL\n\nDynamism and mechanism, 140-142; Two kinds of determinism, 142;\nPhysical determinism, 143-155: and molecular theory of matter, 143, and\nconservation of energy, 144, if conservation universal, physiological\nand nervous phenomena necessitated, but perhaps not conscious states,\n145-148, but is principle of conversation universal? 149, it may\nnot apply to living beings and conscious states, 150-154, idea of\nits universality depends on confusion between concrete duration and\nabstract time, 154-155; Psychological determinism, 155-163: implies\nassociationist conception of mind, 155-158, this involves defective\nconception of self, 159-163; The free act: freedom as expressing the\nfundamental self, 165-170; Real duration and contingency, 172-182:\ncould our act have been different? 172-175, geometrical representation\nof process of coming to a decision, 175-178, the fallacies to which\nit leads determinists and libertarians, 179-183; Real duration and\nprediction, 183-198: conditions of Paul's prediction of Peter's action\n(1) being Peter (2) knowing already his final act, 184-189, the\nthree fallacies involved, 190-192, astronomical prediction depends\non hypothetical acceleration of movements, 193-195, duration cannot\nbe thus accelerated, 196-198; Real duration and causality, 199-221:\nthe law \"same antecedents, same consequents,\" 199-201, causality as\nregular succession, 202-203, causality as prefiguring: two kinds (1)\nprefiguring as mathematical pre-existence; implies non-duration, but\nwe _endure_ and therefore may be free, 204-210, (2) prefiguring as\nhaving idea of future act to be realized by effort; does not involve\ndeterminism, 211-214, determinism results from confusing these two\nsenses, 215-218; Freedom real but indefinable, 219-221.\n\n_pp._140-221\n\nCONCLUSION\n\nStates of self perceived through forms borrowed from external world,\n223; Intensity as quality, 225; Duration as qualitative multiplicity,\n226; No duration in the external world, 227; Extensity and duration\nmust be separated, 229; Only the fundamental self free, 231; Kant's\nmistaken idea of time as homogeneous, 232, hence he put the self which\nis free outside both space and time, 233; Duration is heterogeneous,\nrelation of psychic state to act is unique, and act is free, 235-240.\n\n_pp._ 222-240\n\nINDEX\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nTHE INTENSITY OF PSYCHIC STATES\n\n[Sidenote: Can there be quantitative differences in conscious states?]\n\nIt is usually admitted that states of consciousness, sensations,\nfeelings, passions, efforts, are capable of growth and diminution; we\nare even told that a sensation can be said to be twice, thrice, four\ntimes as intense as another sensation of the same kind. This latter\nthesis, which is maintained by psychophysicists, we shall examine\nlater; but even the opponents of psychophysics do not see any harm\nin speaking of one sensation as being more intense than another, of\none effort as being greater than another, and in thus setting up\ndifferences of quantity between purely internal states. Common sense,\nmoreover, has not the slightest hesitation in giving its verdict on\nthis point; people say they are more or less warm, or more or less sad,\nand this distinction of more and less, even when it is carried over\nto the region of subjective facts and unextended objects, surprises\nnobody. But this involves a very obscure point and a much more\nimportant problem than is usually supposed.\n\nWhen we assert that one number is greater than another number or one\nbody greater than another body, we know very well what we mean.\n\n[Sidenote: Such differences applicable to magnitudes but not to\nintensities.]\n\nFor in both cases we allude to unequal spaces, as shall be shown in\ndetail a little further on, and we call that space the greater which\ncontains the other. But how can a more intense sensation contain one of\nless intensity? Shall we say that the first implies the second, that\nwe reach the sensation of higher intensity only on condition of having\nfirst passed through the less intense stages of the same sensation, and\nthat in a certain sense we are concerned, here also, with the relation\nof container to contained? This conception of intensive magnitude\nseems, indeed, to be that of common sense, but we cannot advance it\nas a philosophical explanation without becoming involved in a vicious\ncircle. For it is beyond doubt that, in the natural series of numbers,\nthe later number exceeds the earlier, but the very possibility of\narranging the numbers in ascending order arises from their having\nto each other relations of container and contained, so that we feel\nourselves able to explain precisely in what sense one is greater than\nthe other. The question, then, is how we succeed in forming a series of\nthis kind with intensities, which cannot be superposed on each other,\nand by what sign we recognize that the members of this series increase,\nfor example, instead of diminishing: but this always comes back to the\ninquiry, why an intensity can be assimilated to a magnitude.\n\n[Sidenote: Alleged distinction between two kinds of quantity: extensive\nand intensive magnitude.]\n\nIt is only to evade the difficulty to distinguish, as is usually done,\nbetween two species of quantity, the first extensive and measurable,\nthe second intensive and not admitting of measure, but of which it can\nnevertheless be said that it is greater or less than another intensity.\nFor it is recognized thereby that there is something common to these\ntwo forms of magnitude, since they are both termed magnitudes and\ndeclared to be equally capable of increase and diminution. But, from\nthe point of view of magnitude, what can there be in common between\nthe extensive and the intensive, the extended and the unextended? If,\nin the first case, we call that which contains the other the greater\nquantity, why go on speaking of quantity and magnitude when there\nis no longer a container or a contained? If a quantity can increase\nand diminish, if we perceive in it, so to speak, the _less_ inside\nthe _more,_ is not such a quantity on this very account divisible,\nand thereby extended? Is it not then a contradiction to speak of an\ninextensive quantity? But yet common sense agrees with the philosophers\nin setting up a pure intensity as a magnitude, just as if it were\nsomething extended. And not only do we use the same word, but whether\nwe think of a greater intensity or a greater extensity, we experience\nin both cases an analogous impression; the terms \"greater\" and \"less\"\ncall up in both cases the same idea. If we now ask ourselves in what\ndoes this idea consist, our consciousness still offers us the image\nof a container and a contained. We picture to ourselves, for example,\na greater intensity of effort as a greater length of thread rolled\nup, or as a spring which, in unwinding, will occupy a greater space.\nIn the idea of intensity, and even in the word which expresses it,\nwe shall find the image of a present contraction and consequently a\nfuture expansion, the image of something virtually extended, and, if\nwe may say so, of a compressed space. We are thus led to believe that\nwe translate the intensive into the extensive, and that we compare\ntwo intensities, or at least express the comparison, by the confused\nintuition of a relation between two extensities. But it is just the\nnature of this operation which it is difficult to determine.\n\n[Sidenote: Attempt to distinguish intensities by objective causes. But\nwe judge of intensity without knowing magnitude or nature of the cause.]\n\nThe solution which occurs immediately to the mind, once it has entered\nupon this path, consists in defining the intensity of a sensation,\nor of any state whatever of the ego, by the number and magnitude of\nthe objective, and therefore measurable, causes which have given rise\nto it. Doubtless, a more intense sensation of light is the one which\nhas been obtained, or is obtainable, by means of a larger number of\nluminous sources, provided they be at the same distance and identical\nwith one another. But, in the immense majority of cases, we decide\nabout the intensity of the effect without even knowing the nature of\nthe cause, much less its magnitude: indeed, it is the very intensity\nof the effect which often leads us to venture an hypothesis as to the\nnumber and nature of the causes, and thus to revise the judgment of\nour senses, which at first represented them as insignificant. And it\nis no use arguing that we are then comparing the actual state of the\nego with some previous state in which the cause was perceived in its\nentirety at the same time as its effect was experienced. No doubt this\nis our procedure in a fairly large number of cases; but we cannot\nthen explain the differences of intensity which we recognize between\ndeep-seated psychic phenomena, the cause of which is within us and\nnot outside. On the other hand, we are never so bold in judging the\nintensity of a psychic state as when the subjective aspect of the\nphenomenon is the only one to strike us, or when the external cause to\nwhich we refer it does not easily admit of measurement. Thus it seems\nevident that we experience a more intense pain at the pulling out of a\ntooth than of a hair; the artist knows without the possibility of doubt\nthat the picture of a master affords him more intense pleasure than\nthe signboard of a shop; and there is not the slightest need ever to\nhave heard of forces of cohesion to assert that we expend less effort\nin bending a steel blade than a bar of iron. Thus the comparison of\ntwo intensities is usually made without the least appreciation of the\nnumber of causes, their mode of action or their extent.\n\n[Sidenote: Attempt to distinguish intensities by atomic movements.\nBut it is the sensation which is given in consciousness, and not the\nmovement.]\n\nThere is still room, it is true, for an hypothesis of the same nature,\nbut more subtle. We know that mechanical, and especially kinetic,\ntheories aim at explaining the visible and sensible properties of\nbodies by _well_ defined movements of their ultimate parts, and many of\nus foresee the time when the intensive differences of qualities, that\nis to say, of our sensations, will be reduced to extensive differences\nbetween the changes taking place behind them. May it not be maintained\nthat, without knowing these theories, we have a vague surmise of them,\nthat behind the more intense sound we guess the presence of ampler\nvibrations which are propagated in the disturbed medium, and that it\nis with a reference to this mathematical relation, precise in itself\nthough confusedly perceived, that we assert the higher intensity of a\nparticular sound? Without even going so far, could it not be laid down\nthat every state of consciousness corresponds to a certain disturbance\nof the molecules and atoms of the cerebral substance, and that the\nintensity of a sensation measures the amplitude, the complication or\nthe extent of these molecular movements? This last hypothesis is at\nleast as probable as the other, but it no more solves the problem.\nFor, quite possibly, the intensity of a sensation bears witness to a\nmore or less considerable work accomplished in our organism; but it\nis the sensation which is given to us in consciousness, and not this\nmechanical work. Indeed, it is by the intensity of the sensation that\nwe judge of the greater or less amount of work accomplished: intensity\nthen remains, at least apparently, a property of sensation. And still\nthe same question recurs: why do we say of a higher intensity that it\nis greater? Why do we think of a greater quantity or a greater space?\n\n\n[Sidenote: Different kinds of intensities. (1) deep-seated psychic\nstatese (2)muscular effort. Intensity is more easily definable in the\nformer case.]\n\nPerhaps the difficulty of the problem lies chiefly in the fact that\nwe call by the same name, and picture to ourselves in the same way,\nintensities which are very different in nature, e.g. the intensity of a\nfeeling and that of a sensation or an effort.\n\nThe effort is accompanied by a muscular sensation, and the sensations\nthemselves are connected with certain physical conditions which\nprobably count for something in the estimate of their intensity: we\nhave here to do with phenomena which take place on the surface of\nconsciousness, and which are always connected, as we shall see further\non, with the perception of a movement or of an external object. But\ncertain states of the soul seem to us, rightly or wrongly, to be\nself-sufficient, such as deep joy or sorrow, a reflective passion or an\naesthetic emotion. Pure intensity ought to be more easily definable in\nthese simple cases, where no extensive element seems to be involved. We\nshall see, in fact, that it is reducible here to a certain quality or\nshade which spreads over a more or less considerable mass of psychic\nstates, or, if the expression be preferred, to the larger or smaller\nnumber of simple states which make up the fundamental emotion.\n\n[Sidenote: Take, for example, the progress of a desire.]\n\nFor example, an obscure desire gradually becomes a deep passion. Now,\nyou will see that thee feeble intensity of this desire consisted at\nfirst in its appearing to be isolated and, as it were, foreign to the\nremainder of your inner life. But little by little it permeates a\nlarger number of psychic elements, tingeing them, so to speak, with\nits own colour: and lo! your outlook on the whole of your surroundings\nseems now to have changed radically. How do you become aware of a deep\npassion, once it has taken hold of you, if not by perceiving that\nthe same objects no longer impress you in the same manner? All your\nsensations and all your ideas seem to brighten up: it is like childhood\nback again. We experience something of the kind in certain dreams, in\nwhich we do not imagine anything out of the ordinary, and yet through\nwhich there resounds an indescribable note of originality. The fact is\nthat, the further we penetrate into the depths of consciousness, the\nless right we have to treat psychic phenomena as things which are set\nside by side. When it is said that an object occupies a large space\nin the soul or even that it fills it entirely, we ought to understand\nby this simply that its image has altered the shade of a thousand\nperceptions or memories, and that in this sense it pervades them,\nalthough it does not itself come into view. But this wholly dynamic\nway of looking at things is repugnant to the reflective consciousness,\nbecause the latter delights in clean cut distinctions, which are\neasily expressed in words, and in things with well-defined outlines,\nlike those which are perceived in space. It will assume then that,\neverything else remaining identical, such and such a desire has gone up\na scale of magnitudes, as though it were permissible still to speak of\nmagnitude where there is neither multiplicity nor space! But just as\nconsciousness (as will be shown later on) concentrates on a given point\nof the organism the increasing number of muscular contractions which\ntake place on the surface of the body, thus converting them into one\nsingle feeling of effort, of growing intensity, so it will hypostatize\nunder the form of a growing desire the gradual alterations which take\nplace in the confused heap of co-existing psychic states. But that is a\nchange of quality rather than of magnitude.\n\nWhat makes hope such an intense pleasure is the fact that the future,\nwhich we dispose of to our liking, appears to us at the same time under\na multitude of forms, equally attractive and equally possible. Even\nif the most coveted of these becomes realized, it will be necessary to\ngive up the others, and we shall have lost a great deal. The idea of\nthe future, pregnant with an infinity of possibilities, is thus more\nfruitful than the future itself, and this is why we find more charm in\nhope than in possession, in dreams than in reality.\n\n[Sidenote: The emotions of joy and sorrow. Their successive stages\ncorrespond to qualitative changes in the whole of our psychic states.]\n\nLet us try to discover the nature of an increasing intensity of joy or\nsorrow in the exceptional cases where no physical symptom intervenes.\nNeither inner joy nor passion is an isolated inner state which at\nfirst occupies a corner of the soul and gradually spreads. At its\nlowest level it is very like a turning of our states of consciousness\ntowards the future. Then, as if their weight were diminished by this\nattraction, our ideas and sensations succeed one another with greater\nrapidity; our movements no longer cost us the same effort. Finally,\nin cases of extreme joy, our perceptions and memories become tinged\nwith an indefinable quality, as with a kind of heat or light, so\nnovel that now and then, as we stare at our own self, we wonder how\nit can really exist. Thus there are several characteristic forms of\npurely inward joy, all of which are successive stages corresponding to\nqualitative alterations in the whole of our psychic states. But the\nnumber of states which are concerned with each of these alterations\nis more or less considerable, and, without explicitly counting them,\nwe know very well whether, for example, our joy pervades all the\nimpressions which we receive in the course of the day or whether any\nescape from its influence. We thus set up points of division in the\ninterval which separates two successive forms of joy, and this gradual\ntransition from one to the other makes them appear in their turn as\ndifferent intensities of one and the same feeling, which is thus\nsupposed to change in magnitude. It could be easily shown that the\ndifferent degrees of sorrow also correspond to qualitative changes.\nSorrow begins by being nothing more than a facing towards the past, an\nimpoverishment of our sensations and ideas, as if each of them were now\ncontained entirely in the little which it gives out, as if the future\nwere in some way stopped up. And it ends with an impression of crushing\nfailure, the effect of which is that we aspire to nothingness, while\nevery new misfortune, by making us understand better the uselessness of\nthe struggle, causes us a bitter pleasure.\n\n[Sidenote: The aesthetic feelings. Their increasing intensities are\nreally different feelings.]\n\nThe aesthetic feelings offer us a still more striking example of this\nprogressive stepping in of new elements, which can be detected in the\nfundamental emotion and which seem to increase its magnitude, although\nin reality they do nothing more than alter its nature. Let us consider\nthe simplest of them, the feeling of grace. At first it is only the\nperception of a certain ease, a certain facility in the outward\nmovements. And as those movements are easy which prepare the way for\nothers, we are led to find a superior ease in the movements which can\nbe foreseen, in the present attitudes in which future attitudes are\npointed out and, as it were, prefigured. If jerky movements are wanting\nin grace, the reason is that each of them is self-sufficient and does\nnot announce those which are to follow. If curves are more graceful\nthan broken lines, the reason is that, while a curved line changes its\ndirection at every moment, every new direction is indicated in the\npreceding one. Thus the perception of ease in motion passes over into\nthe pleasure of mastering the flow of time and of holding the future\nin the present. A third element comes in when the graceful movements\nsubmit to a rhythm and are accompanied by music. For the rhythm and\nmeasure, by allowing us to foresee to a still greater extent the\nmovements of the dancer, make us believe that we now control them. As\nwe guess almost the exact attitude which the dancer is going to take,\nhe seems to obey us when he really takes it: the regularity of the\nrhythm establishes a kind of communication between him and us, and the\nperiodic returns of the measure are like so many invisible threads by\nmeans of which we set in motion this imaginary puppet. Indeed, if it\nstops for an instant, our hand in its impatience cannot refrain from\nmaking a movement, as though to push it, as though to replace it in\nthe midst of this movement, the rhythm of which has taken complete\npossession of our thought and will. Thus a kind of physical sympathy\nenters into the feeling of grace. Now, in analysing the charm of this\nsympathy, you will find that it pleases you through its affinity\nwith moral sympathy, the idea of which it subtly suggests. This last\nelement, in which the others are merged after having in a measure\nushered it in, explains the irresistible attractiveness of grace.\nWe could hardly make out why it affords us such pleasure if it were\nnothing but a saving of effort, as Spencer maintains.[1] But the truth\nis that in anything which we call very graceful we imagine ourselves\nable to detect, besides the lightness which is a sign of mobility,\nsome suggestion of a possible movement towards ourselves, of a virtual\nand even nascent sympathy. It is this mobile sympathy, always ready\nto offer itself, which is just the essence of higher grace. Thus the\nincreasing intensities of aesthetic feeling are here resolved into as\nmany different feelings, each one of which, already heralded by its\npredecessor, becomes perceptible in it and then completely eclipses\nit. It is this qualitative progress which we interpret as a change of\nmagnitude, because we like simple thoughts and because our language is\nill-suited to render the subtleties of psychological analysis.\n\n[Sidenote: The feeling of beauty: art puts to sleep our active and\nresistant powers and makes us responsive to suggestion.]\n\nTo understand how the feeling of the beautiful itself admits of\ndegrees, we should have to submit it to a minute analysis. Perhaps\nthe difficulty which we experience in defining: it is largely owing to\nthe fact that we look upon the beauties of nature as anterior to those\nof art: the processes of art are thus supposed to be nothing more than\nmeans by which the artist expresses the beautiful, and the essence of\nthe beautiful remains unexplained. But we might ask ourselves whether\nnature is beautiful otherwise than through meeting by chance certain\nprocesses of our art, and whether, in a certain sense, art is not prior\nto nature. Without even going so far, it seems more in conformity\nwith the rules of a sound method to study the beautiful first in the\nworks in which it has been produced by a conscious effort, and then\nto pass on by imperceptible steps from art to nature, which may be\nlooked upon as an artist in its own way. By placing ourselves at this\npoint of view, we shall perceive that the object of art is to put to\nsleep the active or rather resistant powers of our personality, and\nthus to bring us into a state of perfect responsiveness, in which\nwe realize the idea that is suggested to us and sympathize with the\nfeeling that is expressed. In the processes of art we shall find, in a\nweakened form, a refined and in some measure spiritualized version of\nthe processes commonly used to induce the state of hypnosis. Thus, in\nmusic, the rhythm and measure suspend the normal flow of our sensations\nand ideas by causing our attention to swing to and fro between fixed\npoints, and they take hold of us with such force that even the faintest\nimitation of a groan will suffice to fill us with the utmost sadness.\nIf musical sounds affect us more powerfully than the sounds of nature,\nthe reason is that nature confines itself to _expressing_ feelings,\nwhereas music _suggests_ them to us. Whence indeed comes the charm of\npoetry? The poet is he with whom feelings develop into images, and the\nimages themselves into words which translate them while obeying the\nlaws of rhythm. In seeing these images pass before our eyes we in our\nturn experience the feeling which was, so to speak, their emotional\nequivalent: but we should never realize these images so strongly\nwithout the regular movements of the rhythm by which our soul is lulled\ninto self-forgetfulness, and, as in a dream, thinks and sees with the\npoet. The plastic arts obtain an effect of the same kind by the fixity\nwhich they suddenly impose upon life, and which a physical contagion\ncarries over to the attention of the spectator. While the works of\nancient sculpture express faint emotions which play upon them like a\npassing breath, the pale immobility of the stone causes the feeling\nexpressed or the movement just begun to appear as if they were fixed\nfor ever, absorbing our thought and our will in their own eternity. We\nfind in architecture, in the very midst of this startling immobility,\ncertain effects analogous to those of rhythm. The symmetry of form,\nthe indefinite repetition of the same architectural motive, causes\nour faculty of perception to oscillate between the same and the same\nagain, and gets rid of those customary incessant changes which in\nordinary life bring us back without ceasing to the consciousness of\nour personality: even the faint suggestion of an idea will then be\nenough to make the idea fill the whole of our mind. Thus art aims at\nimpressing feelings on us rather than expressing them; it suggests\nthem to us, and willingly dispenses with the imitation of nature when\nit finds some more efficacious means. Nature, like art, proceeds by\nsuggestion, but does not command the resources of rhythm. It supplies\nthe deficiency by the long comradeship, based on influences received\nin common by nature and by ourselves, of which the effect is that the\nslightest indication by nature of a feeling arouses sympathy in our\nminds, just as a mere gesture on the part of the hypnotist is enough to\nforce the intended suggestion upon a subject accustomed to his control.\nAnd this sympathy is shown in particular when nature displays to us\nbeings of _normal_ proportions, so that our attention is distributed\nequally over all the parts of the figure without being fixed on any one\nof them: our perceptive faculty then finds itself lulled and soothed by\nthis harmony, and nothing hinders any longer the free play of sympathy,\nwhich is ever ready to come forward as soon as the obstacle in its path\nis removed.\n\n[Sidenote: Stages in the aesthetic emotion.]\n\nIt follows from this analysis that the feeling of the beautiful is\nno specific feeling, but that every feeling experienced by us will\nassume an aesthetic character, provided that it has been _suggested,_\nand not _caused._ It will now be understood why the aesthetic emotion\nseems to us to admit of degrees of intensity, and also of degrees of\nelevation. Sometimes the feeling which is suggested scarcely makes a\nbreak in the compact texture of psychic phenomena of which our history\nconsists; sometimes it draws our attention from them, but not so that\nthey become lost to sight; sometimes, finally, it puts itself in their\nplace, engrosses us and completely monopolizes our soul. There are\nthus distinct phases in the progress of an aesthetic feeling, as in\nthe state of hypnosis; and these phases correspond less to variations\nof degree than to differences of state or of nature. But the merit\nof a work of art is not measured so much by the power with which the\nsuggested feeling takes hold of us as by the richness of this feeling\nitself: in other words, besides degrees of intensity we instinctively\ndistinguish degrees of depth or elevation. If this last concept be\nanalysed, it will be seen that the feelings and thoughts which the\nartist suggests to us express and sum up a more or less considerable\npart of his history. If the art which gives only sensations is an\ninferior art, the reason is that analysis often fails to discover in\na sensation anything beyond the sensation itself. But the greater\nnumber of emotions are instinct with a thousand sensations, feelings\nor ideas which pervade them: each one is then a state unique of its\nkind and indefinable, and it seems that we should have to re-live the\nlife of the subject who experiences it if we wished to grasp it in\nits original complexity. Yet the artist aims at giving us a share in\nthis emotion, so rich, so personal, so novel, and at enabling us to\nexperience what he cannot make us understand. This he will bring about\nby choosing, among the outward signs of his emotions, those which our\nbody is likely to imitate mechanically, though slightly, as soon as it\nperceives them, so as to transport us all at once into the indefinable\npsychological state which called them forth. Thus will be broken down\nthe barrier interposed by time and space between his consciousness and\nours: and the richer in ideas and the more pregnant with sensations\nand emotions is the feeling within whose limits the artist has brought\nus, the deeper and the higher shall we find the beauty thus expressed.\nThe successive intensities of the aesthetic feeling thus correspond\nto changes of state occurring in us, and the degrees of depth to the\nlarger or smaller number of elementary psychic phenomena which we dimly\ndiscern in the fundamental emotion.\n\n[Sidenote: The moral feelings. Pity. Its increasing intensity is a\nqualitative progress.]\n\nThe moral feelings might be studied in the same way. Let us take pity\nas an example. It consists in the first place in putting oneself\nmentally in the place of others, in suffering their pain. But if it\nwere nothing more, as some have maintained, it would inspire us with\nthe idea of avoiding the wretched rather than helping them, for pain\nis naturally abhorrent to us. This feeling of horror may indeed be at\nthe root of pity; but a new element soon comes in, the need of helping\nour fellow-men and of alleviating their suffering. Shall we say with La\nRochefoucauld that this so-called sympathy is a calculation, \"a shrewd\ninsurance against evils to come\"? Perhaps a dread of some future evil\nto ourselves does hold a place in our compassion for other people's\nevil. These however are but lower forms of pity. True pity consists not\nso much in fearing suffering as in desiring it. The desire is a faint\none and we should hardly wish to see it realized; yet we form it in\nspite of ourselves, as if Nature were committing some great injustice\nand it were necessary to get rid of all suspicion of complicity\nwith her. The essence of pity is thus a need for self-abasement, an\naspiration downwards. This painful aspiration nevertheless has a\ncharm about it, because it raises us in our own estimation and makes\nus feel superior to those sensuous goods from which our thought is\ntemporarily detached. The increasing intensity of pity thus consists in\na qualitative progress, in a transition from repugnance to fear, from\nfear to sympathy, and from sympathy itself to humility.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Conscious states connected with external causes or involving\npsychical symptoms.]\n\nWe do not propose to carry this analysis any further. The psychic\nstates whose intensity we have just defined are deep-seated states\nwhich do not seem to have any close relation to their external cause\nor to involve the perception of muscular contraction. But such states\nare rare. There is hardly any passion or desire, any joy or sorrow,\nwhich is not accompanied by physical symptoms; and, where these\nsymptoms occur, they probably count for something in the estimate\nof intensities. As for the sensations properly so called, they are\nmanifestly connected with their external cause, and though the\nintensity of the sensation cannot be defined by the magnitude of its\ncause, there undoubtedly exists some relation between these two terms.\nIn some of its manifestations consciousness even appears to spread\noutwards, as if intensity were being developed into extensity, e.g. in\nthe case of muscular effort. Let us face this last phenomenon at once:\nwe shall thus be transported at a bound to the opposite extremity of\nthe series of psychic phenomena.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Muscular effort seems at first sight to be quantitative.]\n\nIf there is a phenomenon which seems to be presented immediately to\nconsciousness under the form of quantity or at least of magnitude, it\nis undoubtedly muscular effort. We picture to our minds a psychic force\nimprisoned in the soul like the winds in the cave of Aeolus, and only\nwaiting for an opportunity to burst forth: our will is supposed to\nwatch over this force and from time to time to open a passage for it,\nregulating the outflow by the effect which it is desired to produce. If\nwe consider the matter carefully, we shall see that this somewhat crude\nconception of effort plays a large part in our belief in intensive\nmagnitudes. Muscular force, whose sphere of action is space and which\nmanifests itself in phenomena admitting of measure, seems to us to\nhave existed previous to its manifestations, but in smaller volume,\nand, so to speak, in a compressed state: hence we do not hesitate to\nreduce this volume more and more, and finally we believe that we can\nunderstand how a purely psychic state, which does not occupy space,\ncan nevertheless possess magnitude. Science, too, tends to strengthen\nthe illusion of common sense with regard to this point. Bain, for\nexample, declares that \"the sensibility accompanying muscular movement\ncoincides with the _outgoing_ stream of nervous energy:\"[2] it is thus\njust the emission of nervous force which consciousness perceives.\nWundt also speaks of a sensation, central in its origin, accompanying\nthe voluntary innervation of the muscles, and quotes the example\nof the paralytic \"who has a very distinct sensation of the force\nwhich he employs in the effort to raise his leg, although it remains\nmotionless.\"[3] Most of the authorities adhere to this opinion,\nwhich would be the unanimous view of positive science were it not\nthat several years ago Professor William James drew the attention of\nphysiologists to certain phenomena which had been but little remarked,\nalthough they were very remarkable.\n\n[Sidenote: The feeling of effort. We are conscious not of an\nexpenditure of force but of the resulting muscular movement.]\n\nWhen a paralytic strives to raise his useless limb, he certainly does\nnot execute this movement, but, with or without his will, he executes\nanother. Some movement is carried out somewhere: otherwise there is\nno sensation of effort.[4] Vulpian had already called attention to\nthe fact that if a man affected with hemiplegia is told to clench his\nparalysed fist, he unconsciously carries out this action with the\nfist which is not affected. Ferrier described a still more curious\nphenomenon.[5] Stretch out your arm while slightly bending your\nforefinger, as if you were going to press the trigger of a pistol;\nwithout moving the finger, without contracting any muscle of the hand,\nwithout producing any apparent movement, you will yet be able to feel\nthat you are expending energy. On a closer examination, however,\nyou will perceive that this sensation of effort coincides with the\nfixation of the muscles of your chest, that you keep your glottis\nclosed and actively contract your respiratory muscles. As soon as\nrespiration resumes its normal course the consciousness of effort\nvanishes, unless you really move your finger. These facts already\nseemed to show that we are conscious, not of an expenditure of force,\nbut of the movement of the muscles which results from it. The new\nfeature in Professor James's investigation is that he has verified\nthe hypothesis in the case of examples which seemed to contradict it\nabsolutely. Thus when the external rectus muscle of the right eye is\nparalysed, the patient tries in vain to turn his eye towards the right;\nyet objects seem to him to recede towards the right, and since the act\nof volition has produced no effect, it follows, said Helmholtz,[6]\nthat he is conscious of the effort of volition. But, replies Professor\nJames, no account has been taken of what goes on in the other eye. This\nremains covered during the experiments; nevertheless it moves and there\nis not much trouble in proving that it does. It is the movement of the\nleft eye, perceived by consciousness, which produces the sensation of\neffort together with the impression that the objects perceived by the\nright eye are moving. These and similar observations lead Professor\nJames to assert that the feeling of effort is centripetal and not\ncentrifugal. We are not conscious of a force which we are supposed to\nlaunch upon our organism: our feeling of muscular energy at work \"is\na complex afferent sensation, which comes from contracted muscles,\nstretched ligaments, compressed joints, an immobilized chest, a closed\nglottis, a knit brow, clenched jaws,\" in a word, from all the points of\nthe periphery where the effort causes an alteration.\n\n[Sidenote: Intensity of feeling of effort proportional to extent of our\nbody affected.]\n\nIt is not for us to take a side in the dispute. After all, the question\nwith which we have to deal is not whether the feeling of effort comes\nfrom the centre or the periphery, but in what does our perception of\nits intensity exactly consist? Now, it is sufficient to observe oneself\nattentively to reach a conclusion on this point which Professor James\nhas not formulated, but which seems to us quite in accord with the\nspirit of his teaching. We maintain that the more a given effort seems\nto us to increase, the greater is the number of muscles which contract\nin sympathy with it, and that the apparent consciousness of a greater\nintensity of effort at a given point of the organism is reducible,\nin reality, to the perception of a larger surface of the body being\naffected.\n\n[Sidenote: Our consciousness of an increase of muscular effort consists\nin the perception of (1) a greater number of peripheral sensations (2)\na qualitative change in some of them.]\n\nTry, for example, to clench the fist with increasing force. You will\nhave the impression of a sensation of effort entirely localized in\nyour hand and running up a scale of magnitudes. In reality, what you\nexperience in your hand remains the same, but the sensation which was\nat first localized there has affected your arm and ascended to the\nshoulder; finally, the other arm stiffens, both legs do the same, the\nrespiration is checked; it is the whole body which is at work. But\nyou fail to notice distinctly all these concomitant movements unless\nyou are warned of them: till then you thought you were dealing with\na single state of consciousness which changed in magnitude. When you\npress your lips more and more tightly against one another, you believe\nthat you are experiencing in your lips one and the same sensation which\nis continually increasing in strength: here again further reflection\nwill show you that this sensation remains identical, but that certain\nmuscles of the face and the head and then of all the rest of the body\nhave taken part in the operation. You felt this gradual encroachment,\nthis increase of the surface affected, which is in truth a change of\nquantity; but, as your attention was concentrated on your closed lips,\nyou localized the increase there and you made the psychic force there\nexpended into a magnitude, although it possessed no extensity. Examine\ncarefully somebody who is lifting heavier and heavier weights: the\nmuscular contraction gradually spreads over his whole body. As for the\nspecial sensation which he experiences in the arm which is at work,\nit remains constant for a very long time and hardly changes except\nin quality, the weight becoming at a certain moment fatigue, and the\nfatigue pain. Yet the subject will imagine that he is conscious of a\ncontinual increase in the psychic force flowing into his arm. He will\nnot recognize his mistake unless he is warned of it, so inclined is\nhe to measure a given psychic state by the conscious movements which\naccompany it! From these facts and from many others of the same kind we\nbelieve we can deduce the following conclusion: our consciousness of an\nincrease of muscular effort is reducible to the twofold perception of\na greater number of peripheral sensations, and of a qualitative change\noccurring in some of them.\n\n[Sidenote: The same definition of intensity applies to superficial\nefforts, deep-seated feelings and states intermediate between the two.]\n\nWe are thus led to define the intensity of a superficial effort in\nthe same way as that of a cases there is a qualitative progress and\nan increasing complexity, indistinctly perceived. But consciousness,\naccustomed to think in terms of space and to translate its thoughts\ninto words, will denote the feeling by a single word and will localize\nthe effort at the exact point where it yields a useful result: it will\nthen become aware of an effort which is always of the same nature and\nincreases at the spot assigned to it, and a feeling which, retaining\nthe same name, grows without changing its nature. Now, the same\nillusion of consciousness is likely to be met with again in the case\nof the states which are intermediate between superficial efforts and\ndeep-seated feelings. A large number of psychic states are accompanied,\nin fact, by muscular contractions and peripheral sensations. Sometimes\nthese superficial elements are co-ordinated by a purely speculative\nidea, sometimes by an idea of a practical order. In the first case\nthere is intellectual effort or attention; in the second we have\nthe emotions which may be called violent or acute: anger, terror,\nand certain varieties of joy, sorrow, passion and desire. Let us\nshow briefly that the same definition of intensity applies to these\nintermediate states.\n\n[Sidenote: The intermediate states. Attention and its relation to\nmuscular contraction.]\n\nAttention is not a purely physiological phenomenon, but we cannot\ndeny that it is accompanied by movements. These movements are neither\nthe cause nor the result of the phenomenon; they are part of it, they\nexpress it in terms of space, as Ribot has so remarkably proved.[7]\nFechner had already reduced the effort of attention in a sense-organ\nto the muscular feeling \"produced by putting in motion, by a sort of\nreflex action, the muscles which are correlated with the different\nsense organs.\" He had noticed the very distinct sensation of tension\nand contraction of the scalp, the pressure from without inwards over\nthe whole skull, which we experience when we make a great effort to\nrecall something. Ribot has studied more closely the movements which\nare characteristic of voluntary attention. \"Attention contracts the\nfrontal muscle: this muscle ... draws the eyebrow towards itself,\nraises it and causes transverse wrinkles on the forehead.... In\nextreme cases the mouth is opened wide. With children and with many\nadults eager attention gives rise to a protrusion of the lips, a kind\nof pout.\" Certainly, a purely psychic factor will always enter into\nvoluntary attention, even if it be nothing more than the exclusion by\nthe will of all ideas foreign to the one with which the subject wishes\nto occupy himself. But, once this exclusion is made, we believe that\nwe are still conscious of a growing tension of soul, of an immaterial\neffort which increases. Analyse this impression and you will find\nnothing but the feeling of a muscular contraction which spreads over\na wider surface or changes its nature, so that the tension becomes\npressure, fatigue and pain.\n\n[Sidenote: The intensity of violent emotions as muscular tension.]\n\nNow, we do not see any essential difference between the effort of\nattention and what may be The intensity called the effort of psychic\ntension: acute desire, uncontrolled anger, passionate love, violent\nhatred. Each of these states may be reduced, we believe, to a system\nof muscular contractions co-ordinated by an idea; but in the case\nof attention, it is the more or less reflective idea of knowing; in\nthe case of emotion, the unreflective idea of acting. The intensity\nof these violent emotions is thus likely to be nothing but the\nmuscular tension which accompanies them. Darwin has given a remarkable\ndescription of the physiological symptoms of rage. \"The action of the\nheart is much accelerated.... The face reddens or may turn deadly\npale. The respiration is laboured, the chest heaves, and the dilated\nnostrils quiver. The whole body often trembles. The voice is affected.\nThe teeth are clenched or ground together and the muscular system is\ncommonly stimulated to violent, almost frantic action. The gestures ...\nrepresent more or less plainly the act of striking or fighting with\nan enemy.\"[8] We shall not go so far as to maintain, with Professor\nJames,[9] that the emotion of rage is reducible to the sum of these\norganic sensations: there will always be an irreducible psychic element\nin anger, if this be only the idea of striking or fighting, of which\nDarwin speaks, and which gives a common direction to so many diverse\nmovements. But, though this idea determines the direction of the\nemotional state and the accompanying movements, the growing intensity\nof the state itself is, we believe, nothing but the deeper and deeper\ndisturbance of the organism, a disturbance which consciousness has no\ndifficulty in measuring by the number and extent of the bodily surfaces\nconcerned. It will be useless to assert that there is a restrained\nrage which is all the more intense. The reason is that, where emotion\nhas free play, consciousness does not dwell on the details of the\naccompanying movements, but it does dwell upon them and is concentrated\nupon them when its object is to conceal them. Eliminate, in short,\nall trace of organic disturbance, all tendency towards muscular\ncontraction, and all that will be left of anger will be the idea, or,\nif you still insist on making it an emotion, you will be unable to\nassign it any intensity.\n\n[Sidenote: Intensity and reflex movements. No essential difference\nbetween intensity of deep-seated feelings and that of violent emotions.]\n\n\"Fear, when strong,\" says Herbert Spencer, \"expresses itself in cries,\nin efforts to escape, in palpitations, in tremblings.\"[10] We go\nfurther, and maintain that these movements form part of the terror\nitself: by their means the terror becomes an emotion capable of passing\nthrough different degrees of intensity. Suppress them entirely, and\nthe more or less intense state of terror will be succeeded by an idea\nof terror, the wholly intellectual representation of a danger which it\nconcerns us to avoid. There are also high degrees of joy and sorrow,\nof desire, aversion and even shame, the height of which will be found\nto be nothing but the reflex movements begun by the organism and\nperceived by consciousness. \"When lovers meet,\" says Darwin, \"we know\nthat their hearts beat quickly, their breathing is hurried and their\nfaces flushed.\"[11] Aversion is marked by movements of repugnance\nwhich we repeat without noticing when we think of the object of our\ndislike. We blush and involuntarily clench the fingers when we feel\nshame, even if it be retrospective. The acuteness of these emotions is\nestimated by the number and nature of the peripheral sensations which\naccompany them. Little by little, and in proportion as the emotional\nstate loses its violence and gains in depth, the peripheral sensations\nwill give place to inner states; it will be no longer our outward\nmovements but our ideas, our memories, our states of consciousness of\nevery description, which will turn in larger or smaller numbers in a\ndefinite direction. There is, then, no essential difference from the\npoint of view of intensity between the deep-seated feelings, of which\nwe spoke at the beginning, and the acute or violent emotions which we\nhave just passed in review. To say that love, hatred, desire, increase\nin violence is to assert that they are projected outwards, that they\nradiate to the surface, that peripheral sensations are substituted for\ninner states: but superficial or deep-seated, violent or reflective,\nthe intensity of these feelings always consists in the multiplicity of\nsimple states which consciousness dimly discerns in them.\n\n[Sidenote: Magnitude of sensations. Affective and representative\nsensations.]\n\nWe have hitherto confined ourselves to feelings and efforts, complex\nstates the intensity of which does not absolutely depend on an external\ncause. But sensations seem to us simple states: in what will their\nmagnitude consist? The intensity of sensations varies with the\nexternal cause of which they are said to be the conscious equivalent:\nhow shall we explain the presence of quantity in an effect which is\ninextensive, and in this case indivisible? To answer this question,\nwe must first distinguish between the so-called affective and the\nrepresentative sensations. There is no doubt that we pass gradually\nfrom the one to the other and that some affective element enters into\nthe majority of our simple representations. But nothing prevents us\nfrom isolating this element and inquiring separately, in what does the\nintensity of an affective sensation, a pleasure or a pain, consist?\n\n[Sidenote: Affective sensations and organic disturbance.]\n\nPerhaps the difficulty of the latter problem is principally due to the\nfact that we are unwilling to see in the affective state anything but\nthe conscious expression of an organic disturbance, the inward echo of\nan outward cause. We notice that a more intense sensation generally\ncorresponds to a greater nervous disturbance; but inasmuch as these\ndisturbances are unconscious as movements, since they come before\nconsciousness in the guise of a sensation which has no resemblance at\nall to motion, we do not see how they could transmit to the sensation\nanything of their own magnitude. For there is nothing in common,\nwe repeat, between superposable magnitudes such as, for example,\nvibration-amplitudes, and sensations which do not occupy space. If\nthe more intense sensation seems to us to contain the less intense,\nif it assumes for us, like the physical impression itself, the form\nof a magnitude, the reason probably is that it retains something of\nthe physical impression to which it corresponds. And it will retain\nnothing of it if it is merely the conscious translation of a movement\nof molecules; for, just because this movement is translated into the\nsensation of pleasure or pain, it remains unconscious as molecular\nmovement.\n\n[Sidenote: Pleasure and pain as signs of the future reaction rather\nthan psychic translations of the past stimulus.]\n\nBut it might be asked whether pleasure and pain, instead of expressing\nonly what has just occurred, or what is actually occurring, in the\norganism, as is usually believed, could not also point out what is\ngoing to, or what is tending to take place. It seems indeed somewhat\nimprobable that nature, so profoundly utilitarian, should have here\nassigned to consciousness the merely scientific task of informing\nus about the past or the present, which no longer depend upon us.\nIt must be noticed in addition that we rise by imperceptible stages\nfrom automatic to free movements, and that the latter differ from the\nformer principally in introducing an affective sensation between the\nexternal action which occasions them and the volitional reaction which\nensues. Indeed, all our actions might have been automatic, and we can\nsurmise that there are many organized beings in whose case an external\nstimulus causes a definite reaction without calling up consciousness as\nan intermediate agent. If pleasure and pain make their appearance in\ncertain privileged beings, it is probably to call forth a resistance to\nthe automatic reaction which would have taken place: either sensation\nhas nothing to do, or it is nascent freedom. But how would it enable us\nto resist the reaction which is in preparation if it did not acquaint\nus with the nature of the latter by some definite sign? And what can\nthis sign be except the sketching, and, as it were, the prefiguring\nof the future automatic movements in the very midst of the sensation\nwhich is being experienced? The affective state must then correspond\nnot merely to the physical disturbances, movements or phenomena which\nhave taken place, but also, and especially, to those which are in\npreparation, those which are getting ready to be.\n\n[Sidenote: Intensity of affective sensations would then be our\nconsciousness of the involuntary movements tending to follow the\nstimulus.]\n\nIt is certainly not obvious at first sight how this hypothesis\nsimplifies the problem. For we are trying to find what there can be\nin common, from the point of view of magnitude, between a physical\nphenomenon and a state of consciousness, and we seem to have\nmerely turned the difficulty round by making the present state of\nconsciousness a sign of the future reaction, rather than a psychic\ntranslation of the past stimulus. But the difference between the two\nhypotheses is considerable. For the molecular disturbances which were\nmentioned just now are necessarily unconscious, since no trace of the\nmovements themselves can be actually perceived in the sensation which\ntranslates them. But the automatic movements which tend to follow\nthe stimulus as its natural outcome are likely to be conscious as\nmovements: or else the sensation itself, whose function is to invite us\nto choose between this automatic reaction and other possible movements,\nwould be of no avail. The intensity of affective sensations might thus\nbe nothing more than our consciousness of the involuntary movements\nwhich are being begun and outlined, so to speak, within these states,\nand which would have gone on in their own way if nature had made us\nautomata instead of conscious beings.\n\n[Sidenote: Intensity of a pain estimated by extent of organism\naffected.]\n\nIf such be the case, we shall not compare a pain of increasing\nintensity to a note which grows louder and louder, but rather to a\nsymphony, in which an increasing number of instruments make themselves\nheard. Within the characteristic sensation, which gives the tone\nto all the others, consciousness distinguishes a larger or smaller\nnumber of sensations arising at different points of the periphery,\nmuscular contractions, organic movements of every kind: the choir\nof these elementary psychic states voices the new demands of the\norganism, when confronted by a new situation. In other words, we\nestimate the intensity of a pain by the larger or smaller part of the\norganism which takes interest in it. Richet[12] has observed that the\nslighter the pain, the more precisely is it referred to a particular\nspot; if it becomes more intense, it is referred to the whole of the\nmember affected. And he concludes by saying that \"the pain spreads in\nproportion as it is more intense.\"[13] We should rather reverse the\nsentence, and define the intensity of the pain by the very number and\nextent of the parts of the body which sympathize with it and react, and\nwhose reactions are perceived by consciousness. To convince ourselves\nof this, it will be enough to read the remarkable description of\ndisgust given by the same author: \"If the stimulus is slight there\nmay be neither nausea nor vomiting.... If the stimulus is stronger,\ninstead of being confined to the pneumo-gastric nerve, it spreads and\naffects almost the whole organic system. The face turns pale, the\nsmooth muscles of the skin contract, the skin is covered with a cold\nperspiration, the heart stops beating: in a word there is a general\norganic disturbance following the stimulation of the medulla oblongata,\nand this disturbance is the supreme expression of disgust.\"[14] But is\nit nothing more than its expression? In what will the general sensation\nof disgust consist, if not in the sum of these elementary sensations?\nAnd what can we understand here by increasing intensity, if it is\nnot the constantly increasing number of sensations which join in\nwith the sensations already experienced? Darwin has drawn a striking\npicture of the reactions following a pain which becomes more and more\nacute. \"Great pain urges all animals ... to make the most violent and\ndiversified efforts to escape from the cause of suffering.... With men\nthe mouth may be closely compressed, or more commonly the lips are\nretracted with the teeth clenched or ground together.... The eyes stare\nwildly ... or the brows are heavily contracted. Perspiration bathes\nthe body.... The circulation and respiration are much affected.\"[15]\nNow, is it not by this very contraction of the muscles affected that\nwe measure the intensity of a pain? Analyse your idea of any suffering\nwhich you call extreme: do you not mean that it is unbearable, that is\nto say, that it urges the organism to a thousand different actions in\norder to escape from it? I can picture to myself a nerve transmitting a\npain which is independent of all automatic reaction; and I can equally\nunderstand that stronger or weaker stimulations influence this nerve\ndifferently. But I do not see how these differences of sensation would\nbe interpreted by our consciousness as differences of quantity unless\nwe connected them with the reactions which usually accompany them, and\nwhich are more or less extended and more or less important. Without\nthese subsequent reactions, the intensity of the pain would be a\nquality, and not a magnitude.\n\n[Sidenote: Pleasures compared by bodily inclination.]\n\nWe have hardly any other means of comparing several pleasures with\none another. What do we mean by a greater pleasure except a pleasure\nthat is preferred? And what can our preference be, except a certain\ndisposition of our organs, the effect of which is that, when two\npleasures are offered simultaneously to our mind, our body inclines\ntowards one of them? Analyse this inclination itself and you will find\na great many little movements which begin and become perceptible in the\norgans concerned, and even in the rest of the body, as if the organism\nwere coming forth to meet the pleasure as soon as it is pictured. When\nwe define inclination as a movement, we are not using a metaphor.\nWhen confronted by several pleasures pictured by our mind, our body\nturns towards one of them spontaneously, as though by a reflex action.\nIt rests with us to check it, but the attraction of the pleasure is\nnothing but this movement that is begun, and the very keenness of the\npleasure, while we enjoy it, is merely the inertia of the organism,\nwhich is immersed in it and rejects every other sensation. Without this\n_vis inertiae_ of which we become conscious by the very resistance\nwhich we offer to anything that might distract us, pleasure would be\na state, but no longer a magnitude. In the moral as in the physical\nworld, attraction serves to define movement rather than to produce it.\n\n[Sidenote: The intensity of representative sensations. Many also\naffective and intensity is measured by reaction called forth. In others\na new element enters.]\n\nWe have studied the affective sensations separately, but we must\nnow notice that many representative sensations possess an affective\ncharacter, and thus call forth a reaction on our part which we take\ninto account in estimating their intensity. A considerable increase\nof light is represented for us by a characteristic sensation which\nis not yet pain, but which is analogous to dazzling. In proportion\nas the amplitude of sound-vibrations increases, our head and then\nour body seem to us to vibrate or to receive a shock. Certain\nrepresentative sensations, those of taste, smell and temperature, have\na fixed character of pleasantness or unpleasantness. Between flavours\nwhich are more or less bitter you will hardly distinguish anything\nbut differences of quality; they are like different shades of one\nand the same colour. But these differences of quality are at once\ninterpreted as differences of quantity, because of their affective\ncharacter and the more or less pronounced movements of reaction,\npleasure or repugnance, which they suggest to us. Besides, even when\nthe sensation remains purely representative, its external cause cannot\nexceed a certain degree of strength or weakness without inciting us\nto movements which enable us to measure it. Sometimes indeed we have\nto make an effort to perceive this sensation, as if it were trying\nto escape notice; sometimes on the other hand it obsesses us, forces\nitself upon us and engrosses us to such an extent that we make every\neffort to escape from it and to remain ourselves. In the former case\nthe sensation is said to be of slight intensity, and in the latter\ncase very intense. Thus, in order to perceive a distant sound, to\ndistinguish what we call a faint smell or a dim light, we strain all\nour faculties, we \"pay attention.\" And it is just because the smell\nand the light thus require to be reinforced by our efforts that they\nseem to us feeble. And, inversely, we recognize a sensation of extreme\nintensity by the irresistible reflex movements to which it incites\nus, or by the powerlessness with which it affects us. When a cannon\nis fired off close to our ears or a dazzling light suddenly flares\nup, we lose for an instant the consciousness of our personality; this\nstate may even last some time in the case of a very nervous subject.\nIt must be added that, even within the range of the so-called medium\nintensities, when we are dealing on even terms with a representative\nsensation, we often estimate its importance by comparing it with\nanother which it drives away, or by taking account of the persistence\nwith which it returns. Thus the ticking of a watch seems louder at\nnight because it easily monopolizes a consciousness almost empty of\nsensations and ideas. Foreigners talking to one another in a language\nwhich we do not understand seem to us to speak very loudly, because\ntheir words no longer call up any ideas in our mind, and thus break\nin upon a kind of intellectual silence and monopolize our attention\nlike the ticking of a watch at night. With these so-called medium\nsensations, however, we approach a series of psychic states, the\nintensity of which is likely to possess a new meaning. For, in most\ncases, the organism hardly reacts at all, at least in a way that can\nbe perceived; and yet we still make a magnitude out of the pitch of a\nsound, the intensity of a light, the saturation of a colour. Doubtless,\na closer observation of what takes place in the whole of the organism\nwhen we hear such and such a note or perceive such and such a colour\nhas more than one surprise in store for us. Has not C. F\u00e9r\u00e9 shown that\nevery sensation is accompanied by an increase in muscular force which\ncan be measured by the dynamometer?[16] But of an increase of this\nkind there is hardly any consciousness at all, and if we reflect on\nthe precision with which we distinguish sounds and colours, nay, even\nweights and temperatures, we shall easily guess that some new element\nmust come into play in our estimate of them.\n\n[Sidenote: The purely representative sensations are measured by\nexternal causes.]\n\nNow, the nature of this element is easy to determine. For, in\nproportion as a sensation loses its affective character and becomes\nrepresentative, the reactions which it called forth on our part\ntend to disappear, but at the same time we perceive the external\nobject which is its cause, or if we do not now perceive it, we have\nperceived it, and we think of it. Now, this cause is extensive and\ntherefore measurable: a constant experience, which began with the first\nglimmerings of consciousness and which continues throughout the whole\nof our life, shows us a definite shade of sensation corresponding to a\ndefinite amount of stimulation. We thus associate the idea of a certain\nquantity of cause with a certain quality of effect; and finally, as\nhappens in the case of every acquired perception, we transfer the idea\ninto the sensation, the quantity of the cause into the quality of the\neffect. At this very moment the intensity, which was nothing but a\ncertain shade or quality of the sensation, becomes a magnitude. We\nshall easily understand this process if, for example, we hold a pin in\nour right hand and prick our left hand more and more deeply. At first\nwe shall feel as it were a tickling, then a touch which is succeeded by\na prick, then a pain localized at a point, and finally the spreading\nof this pain over the surrounding zone. And the more we reflect on\nit, the more clearly shall we see that we are here dealing with so\nmany qualitatively distinct sensations, so many varieties of a single\nspecies. But yet we spoke at first of one and the same sensation which\nspread further and further, of one prick which increased in intensity.\nThe reason is that, without noticing it, we localized in the sensation\nof the left hand, which is pricked, the progressive effort of the right\nhand, which pricks. We thus introduced the cause into the effect, and\nunconsciously interpreted quality as quantity, intensity as magnitude.\nNow, it is easy to see that the intensity of every representative\nsensation ought to be understood in the same way.\n\n[Sidenote: The sensations of sound. Intensity measured by effort\nnecessary to produce a similar sound.]\n\nThe sensations of sound display well marked degrees of intensity.\nWe have already spoken of the necessity of taking into account the\naffective character of these sensations, the shock received by the\nwhole of the organism. We have shown that a very intense sound is one\nwhich engrosses our attention, which supplants all the others. But\ntake away the shock, the well-marked vibration, which you sometimes\nfeel in your head or even throughout your body: take away the clash\nwhich takes place between sounds heard simultaneously: what will be\nleft except an indefinable quality of the sound which is heard? But\nthis quality is immediately interpreted as quantity because you have\nobtained it yourself a thousand times, e.g. by striking some object\nand thus expending a definite quantity of effort. You know, too, how\nfar you would have to raise your voice to produce a similar sound,\nand the idea of this effort immediately comes into your mind when you\ntransform the intensity of the sound into a magnitude. Wundt[17] has\ndrawn attention to the quite special connexions of vocal and auditory\nnervous filaments which are met with in the human brain. And has it not\nbeen said that to hear is to speak to oneself? Some neuropaths cannot\nbe present at a conversation without moving their lips; this is only an\nexaggeration of what takes place in the case of every one of us. How\nwill the expressive or rather suggestive power of music be explained,\nif not by admitting that we repeat to ourselves the sounds heard, so\nas to carry ourselves back into the psychic state out of which they\nemerged, an original state, which nothing will express, but which\nsomething may suggest, viz., the very motion and attitude which the\nsound imparts to our body?\n\n[Sidenote: Intensity and pitch. The part played by muscular effort.]\n\nThus, when we speak of the intensity of a sound of medium force as a\nmagnitude, we allude principally to the greater or less effort which we\nshould have ourselves to expend in order to summon, by our own effort,\nthe same auditory sensation.\n\nNow, besides the intensity, we distinguish another characteristic\nproperty of the sound, its pitch. Are the differences in pitch, such\nas our ear perceives, quantitative differences? I grant that a sharper\nsound calls up the picture of a higher position in space. But does it\nfollow from this that the notes of the scale, as auditory sensations,\ndiffer otherwise than in quality? Forget what you have learnt from\nphysics, examine carefully your idea of a higher or lower note, and see\nwhether you do not think simply of the greater or less effort which\nthe tensor muscle of your vocal chords has to make in order to produce\nthe note? As the effort by which your voice passes from one note to\nanother is discontinuous, you picture to yourself these successive\nnotes as points in space, to be reached by a series of sudden jumps,\nin each of which you cross an empty separating interval: this is why\nyou establish intervals between the notes of the scale. Now, why is\nthe line along which we dispose them vertical rather than horizontal,\nand why do we say that the sound ascends in some cases and descends in\nothers? It must be remembered that the high notes seem to us to produce\nsome sort of resonance in the head and the deep notes in the thorax:\nthis perception, whether real or illusory, has undoubtedly had some\neffect in making us reckon the intervals vertically. But we must also\nnotice that the greater the tension of the vocal chords in the chest\nvoice, the greater is the surface of the body affected, if the singer\nis inexperienced; this is just the reason why the effort is felt by\nhim as more intense. And as he breathes out the air upwards, he will\nattribute the same direction to the sound produced by the current of\nair; hence the sympathy of a larger part of the body with the vocal\nmuscles will be represented by a movement upwards. We shall thus say\nthat the note is higher because the body makes an effort as though to\nreach an object which is more elevated in space. In this way it became\ncustomary to assign a certain height to each note of the scale, and as\nsoon as the physicist was able to define it by the number of vibrations\nin a given time to which it corresponds, we no longer hesitated to\ndeclare that our ear perceived differences of quantity directly. But\nthe sound would remain a pure quality if we did not bring in the\nmuscular effort which produces it or the vibrations which explain it.\n\n[Sidenote: The sensations of heat and cold. These soon become affective\nand are measured by reactions called forth.]\n\nThe experiments of Blix, Goldscheider and Donaldson[18] have shown\nthat the points on the surface of the body which feel cold are not the\nsame as those which feel heat. Physiology is thus disposed to set up a\ndistinction of nature, and not merely of degree, between the sensations\nof heat and cold. But psychological observation goes further, for\nclose attention can easily discover specific differences between the\ndifferent sensations of heat, as also between the sensations of\ncold. A more intense heat is really another kind of heat. We call it\nmore intense because we have experienced this same change a thousand\ntimes when we approached nearer and nearer a source of heat, or when a\ngrowing surface of our body was affected by it. Besides, the sensations\nof heat and cold very quickly become affective and incite us to more or\nless marked reactions by which we measure their external cause: hence,\nwe are inclined to set up similar quantitative differences among the\nsensations which correspond to lower intensities of the cause. But I\nshall not insist any further; every one must question himself carefully\non this point, after making a clean sweep of everything which his\npast experience has taught him about the cause of his sensations and\ncoming face to face with the sensations themselves. The result of this\nexamination is likely to be as follows: it will be perceived that the\nmagnitude of a representative sensation depends on the cause having\nbeen put into the effect, while the intensity of the affective element\ndepends on the more or less important reactions which prolong the\nexternal stimulations and find their way into the sensation itself.\n\n[Sidenote: The sensation of pressure and weight measured by extent of\norganism affected.]\n\nThe same thing will be experienced in the case of pressure and even\nweight. When you say that a pressure on your hand becomes stronger,\nsee whether you do not mean that there first was a contact, then a\npressure, afterwards a pain, and that this pain itself, after having\ngone through a series of qualitative changes, has spread further and\nfurther over the surrounding region. Look again and see whether you do\nnot bring in the more and more intense, i.e. more and more extended,\neffort of resistance which you oppose to the external pressure. When\nthe psychophysicist lifts a heavier weight, he experiences, he says,\nan increase of sensation. Examine whether this increase of sensation\nought not rather to be called a sensation of increase. The whole\nquestion is centred in this, for in the first case the sensation would\nbe a quantity like its external cause, whilst in the second it would\nbe a quality which had become representative of the magnitude of\nits cause. The distinction between the heavy and the light may seem\nto be as old-fashioned and as childish as that between the hot and\nthe cold. But the very childishness of this distinction makes it a\npsychological reality. And not only do the heavy and the light impress\nour consciousness as generically different, but the various degrees\nof lightness and heaviness are so many species of these two genera.\nIt must be added that the difference of quality is here translated\nspontaneously into a difference of quantity, because of the more or\nless extended effort which our body makes in order to lift a given\nweight. Of this you will soon become aware if you are asked to lift a\nbasket which, you are told, is full of scrap-iron, whilst in fact there\nis nothing in it. You will think you are losing your balance when you\ncatch hold of it, as though distant muscles had interested themselves\nbeforehand in the operation and experienced a sudden disappointment.\nIt is chiefly by the number and nature of these sympathetic efforts,\nwhich take place at different points of the organism, that you measure\nthe sensation of weight at a given point; and this sensation would\nbe nothing more than a quality if you did not thus introduce into\nit the idea of a magnitude. What strengthens the illusion on this\npoint is that we have become accustomed to believe in the immediate\nperception of a homogeneous movement in a homogeneous space. When I\nlift a light weight with my arm, all the rest of my body remaining\nmotionless, I experience a series of muscular sensations each of which\nhas its \"local sign,\" its peculiar shade: it is this series which\nmy consciousness interprets as a continuous movement in space. If I\nafterwards lift a heavier weight to the same height with the same\nspeed, I pass through a new series of muscular sensations, each of\nwhich differs from the corresponding term of the preceding series. Of\nthis I could easily convince myself by examining them closely. But\nas I interpret this new series also as a continuous movement, and as\nthis movement has the same direction, the same duration and the same\nvelocity as the preceding, my consciousness feels itself bound to\nlocalize the difference between the second series of sensations and\nthe first elsewhere than in the movement itself. It thus materializes\nthis difference at the extremity of the arm which moves; it persuades\nitself that the sensation of movement has been identical in both cases,\nwhile the sensation of weight differed in magnitude. But movement and\nweight are but distinctions of the reflective consciousness: what is\npresent to consciousness immediately is the sensation of, so to speak,\na heavy movement, and this sensation itself can be resolved by analysis\ninto a series of muscular sensations, each of which represents by its\nshade its place of origin and by its colour the magnitude of the weight\nlifted.\n\n[Sidenote: The sensation of light. Qualitative changes of colour\ninterpreted as quantitative changes in intensity of luminous source.]\n\nShall we call the intensity of light a quantity, or shall we treat\nit as a quality? It has not perhaps been sufficiently noticed what a\nlarge number of different factors co-operate in daily life in giving\nus information about the nature of the luminous source. We know from\nlong experience that, when we have a difficulty in distinguishing the\noutlines and details of objects, the light is at a distance or on\nthe point of going out. Experience has taught us that the affective\nsensation or nascent dazzling that we experience in certain cases must\nbe attributed to a higher intensity of the cause. Any increase or\ndiminution in the number of luminous sources alters the way in which\nthe sharp lines of bodies stand out and also the shadows which they\nproject. Still more important are the changes of hue which coloured\nsurfaces, and even the pure colours of the spectrum, undergo under\nthe influence of a brighter or dimmer light. As the luminous source\nis brought nearer, violet takes a bluish tinge, green tends to become\na whitish yellow, and red a brilliant yellow. Inversely, when the\nlight is moved away, ultramarine passes into violet and yellow into\ngreen; finally, red, green and violet tend to become a whitish yellow.\nPhysicists have remarked these changes of hue for some time;[19] but\nwhat is still more remarkable is that the majority of men do not\nperceive them, unless they pay attention to them or are warned of\nthem. Having made up our mind, once for all, to interpret changes\nof quality as changes of quantity, we begin by asserting that every\nobject has its own peculiar colour, definite and invariable. And when\nthe hue of objects tends to become yellow or blue, instead of saying\nthat we see their colour change under the influence of an increase or\ndiminution of light, we assert that the colour remains the same but\nthat our sensation of luminous intensity increases or diminishes. We\nthus substitute once more, for the qualitative impression received\nby our consciousness, the quantitative interpretation given by our\nunderstanding. Helmholtz has described a case of interpretation of\nthe same kind, but still more complicated: \"If we form white with\ntwo colours of the spectrum, and if we increase or diminish the\nintensities of the two coloured lights in the same ratio, so that the\nproportions of the combination remain the same, the resultant colour\nremains the same although the relative intensity of the sensations\nundergoes a marked change.... This depends on the fact that the light\nof the sun, which we consider as the normal white light during the\nday, itself undergoes similar modifications of shade when the luminous\nintensity varies.\"[20]\n\n[Sidenote: Does experiment prove that we can measure directly our\nsensations of light?]\n\nBut yet, if we often judge of variations in the luminous source by\nthe relative changes of hue of the objects which surround us, this is\nno longer the case in simple instances where a single object, e.g.\na white surface, passes successively through different degrees of\nluminosity. We are bound to insist particularly on this last point.\nFor the physicist speaks of degrees of luminous intensity as of real\nquantities: and, in fact, he measures them by the photometer. The\npsychophysicist goes still further: he maintains that our eye itself\nestimates the intensities of light. Experiments have been attempted,\nat first by Delb\u0153uf,[21] and afterwards by Lehmann and Neiglick,[22]\nwith the view of constructing a psychophysical formula from the direct\nmeasurement of our luminous sensations. Of these experiments we shall\nnot dispute the result, nor shall we deny the value of photometric\nprocesses; but we must see how we have to interpret them.\n\n[Sidenote: Photometric experiments. We perceive different shades and\nafterwards interpret them as decreasing intensities of white light.]\n\nLook closely at a sheet of paper lighted e.g. by four candles, and put\nout in succession one, two, Photometric three of them. You say that\nthe surface remains white and that its brightness diminishes. But you\nare aware that one candle has just been put out; or, if you do not\nknow it, you have often observed a similar change in the appearance of\na white surface when the illumination was diminished. Put aside what\nyou remember of your past experiences and what you are accustomed to\nsay of the present ones; you will find that what you really perceive\nis not a diminished illumination of the white surface, it is a _layer\nof shadow_ passing over this surface at the moment the candle is\nextinguished. This shadow is a reality to your consciousness, like\nthe light itself. If you call the first surface in all its brilliancy\nwhite, you will have to give another name to what you now see, for it\nis a different thing: it is, if we may say so, a new shade of white.\nWe have grown accustomed, through the combined influence of our past\nexperience and of physical theories, to regard black as the absence,\nor at least as the minimum, of luminous sensation, and the successive\nshades of grey as decreasing intensities of white light. But, in\npoint of fact, black has just as much reality for our consciousness\nas white, and the decreasing intensities of white light illuminating\na given surface would appear to an unprejudiced consciousness as so\nmany different shades, not unlike the various colours of the spectrum.\nThis is the reason why the change in the sensation is not continuous,\nas it is in the external cause, and why the light can increase or\ndecrease for a certain period without producing any apparent change\nin the illumination of our white surface: the illumination will not\nappear to change until the increase or decrease of the external light\nis sufficient to produce a new quality. The variations in brightness\nof a given colour--the affective sensations of which we have spoken\nabove being left aside--would thus be nothing but qualitative changes,\nwere it not our custom to transfer the cause to the effect and to\nreplace our immediate impressions by what we learn from experience\nand science. The same thing might be said of degrees of saturation.\nIndeed, if the different intensities of a colour correspond to so many\ndifferent shades existing between this colour and black, the degrees\nof saturation are like shades intermediate between this same colour\nand pure white. Every colour, we might say, can be regarded under two\naspects, from the point of view of black and from the point of view of\nwhite. And black is then to intensity what white is to saturation.\n\n[Sidenote: In photometric experiments the physicist compares, not\nsensations, but physical effects.]\n\nThe meaning of the photometric experiments will now be understood. A\ncandle placed at a certain distance from a sheet of paper illuminates\nit in a certain way: you double the distance and find that four candles\nare required to produce the same effects, sensation. From this you\nconclude that if you had doubled the distance without increasing the\nintensity of the luminous source, the resultant illumination would\nhave been only one-fourth as bright. But it is quite obvious that you\nare here dealing with the physical and not the psychological effect.\nFor it cannot be said that you have compared two sensations with one\nanother: you have made use of a single sensation in order to compare\ntwo different luminous sources with each other, the second four\ntimes as strong as the first but twice as far off. In a word, the\nphysicist never brings in sensations which are twice or three times\nas great as others, but only identical sensations, destined to serve\nas intermediaries between two physical quantities which can then be\nequated with one another. The sensation of light here plays the part\nof the auxiliary unknown quantity which the mathematician introduces\ninto his calculations, and which is not intended to appear in the final\nresult.\n\n[Sidenote: The psychophysicist claims to compare and measure\nsensations. Delb\u0153uf's experiments.]\n\nBut the object of the psychophysicist is entirely different: it is the\nsensation of light itself which he studies, and claims to measure.\nSometimes he will proceed to integrate infinitely small differences,\nafter the method of Fechner; sometimes he will compare one sensation\ndirectly with another. The latter method, due to Plateau and Delb\u0153uf,\ndiffers far less than has hitherto been believed from Fechner's: but,\nas it bears more especially on the luminous sensations, we shall deal\nwith it first. Delb\u0153uf places an observer in front of three concentric\nrings which vary in brightness. By an ingenious arrangement he can\ncause each of these rings to pass through all the shades intermediate\nbetween white and black. Let us suppose that two hues of grey are\nsimultaneously produced on two of the rings and kept unchanged; let\nus call them A and B. Delb\u0153uf alters the brightness, C, of the third\nring, and asks the observer to tell him whether, at a certain moment,\nthe grey, B, appears to him equally distant from the other two. A\nmoment comes, in fact, when the observer states that the contrast A B\nis equal to the contrast B C, so that, according to Delb\u0153uf, a scale of\nluminous intensities could be constructed on which we might pass from\neach sensation to the following one by equal sensible contrasts: our\nsensations would thus be measured by one another. I shall not follow\nDelb\u0153uf into the conclusions which he has drawn from these remarkable\nexperiments: the essential question, the only question, as it seems\nto me, is whether a contrast A B, formed of the elements A and B, is\nreally equal to a contrast B C, which is differently composed. As\nsoon as it is proved that two sensations can be equal without being\nidentical, psychophysics will be established. But it is this equality\nwhich seems to me open to question: it is easy to explain, in fact,\nhow a sensation of luminous intensity can be said to be at an equal\ndistance from two others.\n\n[Sidenote: In what cases differences of colour might be interpreted as\ndifferences of magnitude.]\n\nLet us assume for a moment that from our birth onwards the growing\nintensity of a luminous source had always called up in our\nconsciousness, one after the other, the different colours of the\nspectrum. There is no doubt that these colours would then appear to us\nas so many notes of a gamut, as higher or lower degrees in a scale,\nin a word, as magnitudes. Moreover it would be easy for us to assign\neach of them its place in the series. For although the extensive\ncause varies continuously, the changes in the sensation of colour\nare discontinuous, passing from one shade to another shade. However\nnumerous, then, may be the shades intermediate between the two colours,\nA and B, it will always be possible to count them in thought, at least\nroughly, and ascertain whether this number is almost equal to that\nof the shades which separate B from another colour C. In the latter\ncase it will be said that B is equally distant from A and C, that the\ncontrast is the same on one side as on the other. But this will always\nbe merely a convenient interpretation: for although the number of\nintermediate shades may be equal on both sides, although we may pass\nfrom one to the other by sudden leaps, we do not know whether these\nleaps are magnitudes, still less whether they are _equal_ magnitudes:\nabove all it would be necessary to show that the intermediaries which\nhave helped us throughout our measurement could be found again inside\nthe object which we have measured. If not, it is only by a metaphor\nthat a sensation can be said to be an equal distance from two others.\n\n[Sidenote: This is just the case with differences of intensity in\nsensations of light. Delb\u0153uf's underlying postulate.]\n\nNow, if the views which we have before enumerated with regard to\nluminous intensities are accepted, it will be recognized that the\ndifferent hues of grey which Delb\u0153uf displays to us are strictly\nanalogous, for our consciousness, to colours, and that if we declare\nthat a grey tint is equidistant from two other grey tints, it is in\nthe same sense in which it might be said that orange, for example, is\nat an equal distance from green and red. But there is this difference,\nthat in all our past experience the succession of grey tints has\nbeen produced in connexion with a progressive increase or decrease\nin illumination. Hence we do for the differences of brightness what\nwe do not think of doing for the differences of colour: we promote\nthe changes of quality into variations of magnitude. Indeed, there\nis no difficulty here about the measuring, because the successive\nshades of grey produced by a continuous decrease of illumination\nare discontinuous, as being qualities, and because we can count\napproximately the principal intermediate shades which separate any\ntwo kinds of grey. The contrast A B will thus be declared equal to\nthe contrast B C when our imagination, aided by our memory, inserts\nbetween A and B the same number of intermediate shades as between B\nand C. It is needless to say that this will necessarily be a very\nrough estimate. We may anticipate that it will vary considerably with\ndifferent persons. Above all it is to be expected that the person\nwill show more hesitation and that the estimates of different persons\nwill differ more widely in proportion as the difference in brightness\nbetween the rings A and B is increased, for a more and more laborious\neffort will be required to estimate the number of intermediate hues.\nThis is exactly what happens, as we shall easily perceive by glancing\nat the two tables drawn up by Delb\u0153uf.[23] In proportion as he\nincreases the difference in brightness between the exterior ring and\nthe middle ring, the difference between the numbers on which one and\nthe same observer or different observers successively fix increases\nalmost continuously from 3 degrees to 94, from 5 to 73, from 10 to 25,\nfrom 7 to 40. But let us leave these divergences on one side: let us\nassume that the observers are always consistent and always agree with\none another; will it then be established that the contrasts A B and B\nC are equal? It would first be necessary to prove that two successive\nelementary contrasts are equal quantities, whilst, in fact, we only\nknow that they are successive. It would then be necessary to prove that\ninside a given tint of grey we perceive the less intense shades which\nour imagination has run through in order to estimate the objective\nintensity of the source of light. In a word, Delb\u0153uf's psychophysics\nassumes a theoretical postulate of the greatest importance, which\nis disguised under the cloak of an experimental result, and which\nwe should formulate as follows: \"When the objective quantity of\nlight is continuously increased, the differences between the hues of\ngrey successively obtained, each of which represents the smallest\nperceptible increase of physical stimulation, are quantities equal to\none another. And besides, any one of the sensations obtained can be\nequated with the sum of the differences which separate from one another\nall previous sensations, going from zero upwards.\" Now, this is just\nthe postulate of Fechner's psychophysics, which we are going to examine.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Fechner's psychophysics. Weber's Law.]\n\nFechner took as his starting-point a law discovered by Weber, according\nto which, given a certain stimulus which calls forth a certain\nsensation, the amount by which the stimulus must be increased for\nconsciousness to become aware of any change bears a fixed relation\nto the original stimulus. Thus, if we denote by \u0395 the stimulus which\ncorresponds to the sensation S, and by \u0394\u0395 the amount by which the\noriginal stimulus must be increased in order that a sensation of\ndifference may be produced, we shall have \u0394\u0395/E = const. This formula\nhas been much modified by the disciples of Fechner, and we prefer to\ntake no part in the discussion; it is for experiment to decide between\nthe relation established by Weber and its substitutes. Nor shall we\nraise any difficulty about granting the probable existence of a law of\nthis nature. It is here really a question not of measuring a sensation\nbut only of determining the exact moment at which an increase of\nstimulus produces a change in it. Now, if a definite amount of stimulus\nproduces a definite shade of sensation, it is obvious that the minimum\namount of stimulus required to produce a change in this shade is also\ndefinite; and since it is not constant, it must be a function of the\noriginal stimulus. But how are we to pass from a relation between the\nstimulus and its minimum increase to an equation which connects the\n**\"amount of sensation\" with the corresponding stimulus? The whole of\npsychophysics is involved in this transition, which is therefore worthy\nof our closest consideration.\n\n[Sidenote: The underlying assumptions and the process by which\nFechner's Law is reached.]\n\nWe shall distinguish several different artifices in the process of\ntransition from Weber's experiments, or from any other series of\nsimilar observations, to a psychophysical law like Fechner's. It is\nfirst of all agreed to consider our consciousness of an increase of\nstimulus as an increase of the sensation S: this is therefore called\nS. It is then asserted that all the sensations \u0394S, which correspond\nto the smallest perceptible increase of stimulus, are equal to one\nanother. They are therefore treated as quantities, and while, on the\none hand, these quantities are supposed to be always equal, and, on\nthe other, experiment has given a certain relation \u0394\u0395 = \u222b(E) between\nthe stimulus \u0395 and its minimum increase, the constancy of \u0394S is\nexpressed by writing \u0394S = C \u0394E/\u222b(E), C being a constant quantity.\nFinally it is agreed to replace the very small differences \u0394S and \u0394\u0395\nby the infinitely small differences _d_S and _d_E, whence an equation\nwhich is, this time, a differential one: _d_S = C _d_E/\u222b(E). We shall\nnow simply have to integrate on both sides to obtain the desired\nrelation[24]: S=C \u222c_d_E/\u222b(E). And the transition will thus be made from\na proved law, which only concerned the _occurrence_ of a sensation, to\nan unprovable law which gives its _measure._\n\nWithout entering upon any thorough discussion of this ingenious\noperation, let us show in a few words how Fechner has grasped the real\ndifficulty of the problem, how he has tried to overcome it, and where,\nas it seems to us, the flaw in his reasoning lies.\n\n[Sidenote: Can two sensations be equal without being identical?]\n\nFechner realized that measurement could not be introduced into\npsychology without first defining what is meant by the equality and\naddition of two simple states, e.g. two sensations. But, unless they\nare identical, we do not at first see how two sensations can be equal.\nUndoubtedly in the physical world equality is not synonymous with\nidentity. But the reason is that every phenomenon, every object, is\nthere presented under two aspects, the one qualitative and the other\nextensive: nothing prevents us from putting the first one aside,\nand then there remains nothing but terms which can be directly or\nindirectly superposed on one another and consequently seen to be\nidentical. Now, this qualitative element, which we begin by eliminating\nfrom external objects in order to measure them, is the very thing which\npsychophysics retains and claims to measure. And it is no use trying to\nmeasure this quality Q by some physical quantity Q' which lies beneath\nit: for it would be necessary to have previously shown that Q is a\nfunction of Q', and this would not be possible unless the quality Q had\nfirst been measured with some fraction of itself. Thus nothing prevents\nus from measuring the sensation of heat by the degree of temperature;\nbut this is only a convention, and the whole point of psychophysics\nlies in rejecting this convention and seeking how the sensation of\nheat varies when you change the temperature. In a word, it seems,\non the one hand, that two different sensations cannot be said to be\nequal unless some identical residuum remains after the elimination of\ntheir qualitative difference; but, on the other hand, this qualitative\ndifference being all that we perceive, it does not appear what could\nremain once it was eliminated.\n\n[Sidenote: Fechner's method of _minimum_ differences.]\n\nThe novel feature in Fechner's treatment is that he did not consider\nthis difficulty insurmountable. Taking advantage of the fact that\nsensation varies by sudden jumps while the stimulus increases\ncontinuously, he did not hesitate to call these differences of\nsensation by the same name: they are all, he says, _minimum_\ndifferences, since each corresponds to the smallest perceptible\nincrease in the external stimulus. Therefore you can set aside the\nspecific shade or quality of these successive differences; a common\nresiduum will remain in virtue of which they will be seen to be in a\nmanner identical: they all have the common character of being _minima._\nSuch will be the definition of equality which we were seeking. Now,\nthe definition of addition will follow naturally. For if we treat\nas a quantity the difference perceived by consciousness between two\nsensations which succeed one another in the course of a continuous\nincrease of stimulus, if we call the first sensation S, and the\nsecond S + \u0394S, we shall have to consider every sensation S as a sum,\nobtained by the addition of the minimum differences through which\nwe pass before reaching it. The only remaining step will then be to\nutilize this twofold definition in order to establish, first of all,\na relation between the differences \u0394S and \u0394\u0395, and then, through the\nsubstitution of the differentials, between the two variables. True, the\nmathematicians may here lodge a protest against the substitution of\ndifferential for difference; the psychologists may ask, too, whether\nthe quantity \u0394S, instead of being constant, does not vary as the\nsensation S itself;[25] finally, taking the psychophysical law for\ngranted, we may all debate about its real meaning. But, by the mere\nfact that \u0394S is regarded as a quantity and S as a sum, the fundamental\npostulate of the whole process is accepted.\n\n[Sidenote: Break-down of the assumption that the sensation is a sum,\nand the minimum differences quantities.]\n\nNow it is just this postulate which seems to us open to question, even\nif it can be understood. Assume that I experience a sensation S, and\nthat, increasing the stimulus continuously, I perceive this increase\nafter a certain time. I am now notified of the increase of the cause:\nbut why should I call this notification an arithmetical difference? No\ndoubt the notification consists in the fact that the original state S\nhas changed: it has become S'; but the transition from S to S' could\nonly be called an arithmetical difference if I were conscious, so to\nspeak, of an interval between S and S', and if my sensation were felt\nto rise from S to S' by the addition of something. By giving this\ntransition a name, by calling it \u0394S,** you make it first a reality and\nthen a quantity. Now, not only are you unable to explain in what sense\nthis transition is a quantity, but reflection will show you that it is\nnot even a reality; the only realities are the states S and S' through\nwhich I pass. No doubt, if S and S' were numbers, I could assert the\nreality of the difference S'--S even though S and S' alone were given;\nthe reason is that the number S'--S, which is a certain sum of units,\nwill then represent just the successive moments of the addition by\nwhich we pass from S to S'. But if S and S' are simple states, in what\nwill the _interval_ which separates them consist? And what, then, can\nthe transition from the first state to the second be, if not a mere act\nof your thought, which, arbitrarily and for the sake of the argument,\nassimilates a succession of two states to a differentiation of two\nmagnitudes?\n\n[Sidenote: We can speak of \"arithmetical difference\" only in a\nconventional sense.]\n\nEither you keep to what consciousness presents to you or you have\nrecourse to a conventional mode of representation. In the first case\nyou will find a difference between S and S' like that between the\nshades sense. Of rainbow, and not at all an interval of magnitude.\nIn the second case you may introduce the symbol \u0394S if you like,\nbut it is only in a conventional sense that you will speak here of\nan arithmetical difference, and in a conventional sense, also, that\nyou will assimilate a sensation to a sum. The most acute of Fechner's\ncritics, Jules Tannery, has made the latter point perfectly clear. \"It\nwill be said, for example, that a sensation of 50 degrees is expressed\nby the number of differential sensations which would succeed one\nanother from the point where sensation is absent up to the sensation\nof 50 degrees.... I do not see that this is anything but a definition,\nwhich is as legitimate as it is arbitrary.\"[26]\n\n[Sidenote: Delb\u0153uf's results seem more plausible but, in the end, all\npsychophysics revolves in a vicious circle.]\n\nWe do not believe, in spite of all that has been said, that the method\nof mean gradations has set psychophysics on a new path. The novel\nfeature in Delb\u0153uf's investigation was that he chose a particular case,\nin which consciousness seemed to decide in Fechner's favour, and in\nwhich common sense itself played the part of the psychophysicist. He\ninquired whether certain sensations did not appear to us immediately as\nequal although different, and whether it would not be possible to draw\nup, by their help, a table of sensations which were double, triple or\nquadruple those which preceded them. The mistake which Fechner made,\nas we have just seen, was that he believed in an interval between two\nsuccessive sensations S and S', when there is simply a _passing_ from\none to the other and not a _difference_ in the arithmetical sense of\nthe word. But if the two terms between which the passing takes place\ncould be given simultaneously, there would then be a contrast besides\nthe transition; and although the contrast is not yet an arithmetical\ndifference, it resembles it in a certain respect; for the two terms\nwhich are compared stand here side by side as in a case of subtraction\nof two numbers. Suppose now that these sensations belong to the same\n_genus_ and that in our past experience we have constantly been present\nat their march past, so to speak, while the physical stimulus increased\ncontinuously: it is extremely probable that we shall thrust the cause\ninto the effect, and that the idea of contrast will thus melt into that\nof arithmetical difference. As we shall have noticed, moreover, that\nthe sensation changed abruptly while the stimulus rose continuously,\nwe shall no doubt estimate the distance between two given sensations\nby a rough guess at the number of these sudden jumps, or at least of\nthe intermediate sensations which usually serve us as landmarks. To\nsum up, the contrast will appear to us as a difference, the stimulus\nas a quantity, the sudden jump as an element of equality: combining\nthese three factors, we shall reach the idea of equal quantitative\ndifferences. Now, these conditions are nowhere so well realized as\nwhen surfaces of the same colour, more or less illuminated, are\nsimultaneously presented to us. Not only is there here a contrast\nbetween similar sensations, but these sensations correspond to a cause\nwhose influence has always been felt by us to be closely connected with\nits distance; and, as this distance can vary continuously, we cannot\nhave escaped noticing in our past experience a vast number of shades\nof sensation which succeeded one another along with the continuous\nincrease in the cause. We are therefore able to say that the contrast\nbetween one shade of grey and another, for example, seems to us almost\nequal to the contrast between the latter and a third one; and if we\ndefine two equal sensations by saying that they are sensations which\na more or less confused process of reasoning interprets as such, we\nshall in fact reach a law like that proposed by Delb\u0153uf. But it must\nnot be forgotten that consciousness has here passed through the same\nintermediate steps as the psychophysicist, and that its judgment\nis worth here just what psychophysics is worth; it is a symbolical\ninterpretation of quality as quantity, a more or less rough estimate\nof the number of sensations which can come in between two given\nsensations. The difference is thus not as great as is believed between\nthe method of least noticeable differences and that of mean gradations,\nbetween the psychophysics of Fechner and that of Delb\u0153uf. The first\nled to a conventional measurement of sensation; the second appeals\nto common sense in the particular cases where common sense adopts a\nsimilar convention. In a word, all psychophysics is condemned by its\norigin to revolve in a vicious circle, for the theoretical postulate on\nwhich it rests condemns it to experimental verification, and it cannot\nbe experimentally verified unless its postulate is first granted. The\nfact is that there is no point of contact between the unextended and\nthe extended, between quality and quantity. We can interpret the one by\nthe other, set up the one as the equivalent of the other; but sooner or\nlater, at the beginning or at the end, we shall have to recognize the\nconventional character of this assimilation.\n\n[Sidenote: Psychophysics merely pushes to its extreme consequences the\nfundamental but natural mistake of regarding sensations as magnitudes.]\n\nIn truth, psychophysics merely formulates with precision and pushes\nto its extreme consequences a conception familiar to common sense. As\nspeech dominates over thought, as external objects, which are common\nto us all, are more important to us than the subjective states through\nwhich each of us passes, we have everything to gain by objectifying\nthese states, by introducing into them, to the largest possible extent,\nthe representation of their external cause. And the more our knowledge\nincreases, the more we perceive the extensive behind the intensive,\nquantity behind quality, the more also we tend to thrust the former\ninto the latter, and to treat our sensations as magnitudes. Physics,\nwhose particular function it is to calculate the external cause of our\ninternal states, takes the least possible interest in these states\nthemselves: constantly and deliberately it confuses them with their\ncause. It thus encourages and even exaggerates the mistake which common\nsense makes on the point. The moment was inevitably bound to come at\nwhich science, familiarized with this confusion between quality and\nquantity, between sensation and stimulus, should seek to measure the\none as it measures the other: such was the object of psychophysics. In\nthis bold attempt Fechner was encouraged by his adversaries themselves,\nby the philosophers who speak of intensive magnitudes while declaring\nthat psychic states cannot be submitted to measurement. For if we\ngrant that one sensation can be stronger than another, and that this\ninequality is inherent in the sensations themselves, independently\nof all association of ideas, of all more or less conscious\nconsideration of number and space, it is natural to ask by how much\nthe first sensation exceeds the second, and to set up a quantitative\nrelation between their intensities. Nor is it any use to reply, as\nthe opponents of psychophysics sometimes do, that all measurement\nimplies superposition, and that there is no occasion to seek for a\nnumerical relation between intensities, which are not superposable\nobjects. For it will then be necessary to explain why one sensation\nis said to be more intense than another, and how the conceptions\nof greater and smaller can be applied to things which, it has just\nbeen acknowledged, do not admit among themselves of the relations of\ncontainer to contained. If, in order to cut short any question of this\nkind, we distinguish two kinds of quantity, the one intensive, which\nadmits only of a \"more or less,\" the other extensive, which lends\nitself to measurement, we are not far from siding with Fechner and\nthe psychophysicists. For, as soon as a thing is acknowledged to be\ncapable of increase and decrease, it seems natural to ask by how much\nit decreases or by how much it increases. And, because a measurement\nof this kind does not appear to be possible directly, it does not\nfollow that science cannot successfully accomplish it by some indirect\nprocess, either by an integration of infinitely small elements, as\nFechner proposes, or by any other roundabout way. Either, then,\nsensation is pure quality, or, if it is a magnitude, we ought to try to\nmeasure it.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Thus intensity judged (1) in representative states by an\nestimate of the magnitude of the cause (2) in affective states by\nmultiplicity of psychic phenomena involved.]\n\nTo sum up what precedes, we have found the notion of intensity to\npresent itself under a double aspect, according as we study the states\nof consciousness which represent an external cause, or those which\nare self-sufficient. In the former case the perception of intensity\nconsists in a certain estimate of the magnitude of the cause means of\na certain quality in the effect: it is, as the Scottish philosophers\nwould have said, an acquired perception. In the second case, we give\nthe name of intensity to the larger or smaller number of simple psychic\nphenomena which we conjecture to be involved in the fundamental state:\nit is no longer an _acquired_ perception, but a _confused_ perception.\nIn fact, these two meanings of the word usually intermingle, because\nthe simpler phenomena involved in an emotion or an effort are generally\nrepresentative, and because the majority of representative states,\nbeing at the same time affective, themselves include a multiplicity of\nelementary psychic phenomena. The idea of intensity is thus situated\nat the junction of two streams, one of which brings us the idea of\nextensive magnitude from without, while the other brings us from\nwithin, in fact from the very depths of consciousness, the image of an\ninner multiplicity. Now, the point is to determine in what the latter\nimage consists, whether it is the same as that of number, or whether\nit is quite different from it. In the following chapter we shall no\nlonger consider states of consciousness in isolation from one another,\nbut in their concrete multiplicity, in so far as they unfold themselves\nin pure duration. And, in the same way as we have asked what would be\nthe intensity of a representative sensation if we did not introduce\ninto it the idea of its cause, we shall now have to inquire what the\nmultiplicity of our inner states becomes, what form duration assumes,\nwhen the space in which it unfolds is eliminated. This second question\nis even more important than the first. For, if the confusion of quality\nwith quantity were confined to each of the phenomena of consciousness\ntaken separately, it would give rise to obscurities, as we have just\nseen, rather than to problems. But by invading the series of our\npsychic states, by introducing space into our perception of duration,\nit corrupts at its very source our feeling of outer and inner change,\nof movement, and of freedom. Hence the paradoxes of the Eleatics, hence\nthe problem of free will. We shall insist rather on the second point;\nbut instead of seeking to solve the question, we shall show the mistake\nof those who ask it.\n\n\n[1] _Essays,_ (Library Edition, 1891), Vol. ii, p. 381.\n\n[2] _The Senses and the Intellect,_4th ed., (1894), p. 79.\n\n[3] _Grundz\u00fcge der Physiologischen Psychologie,_2nd ed. (1880), Vol. i,\np. 375.\n\n[4] W. James, _Le sentiment de l'effort (Critique philosophique,_ 1880,\nVol. ii,) cf. _Principles of Psychology,_ (1891), Vol. ii, chap, xxvi.\n\n[5] _Functions of the Brain,_ 2nd ed. (1886), p. 386.\n\n[6] _Handbuch der Physiologischen Optik,_ 1st ed. (1867), pp. 600-601.\n\n[7] _Le m\u00e9canisme de l'attention._ Alcan, 1888.\n\n[8] _The Expression of the Emotions,_ 1st ed., (1872), p. 74.\n\n[9] \"What is an Emotion?_\" Mind,_1884, p. 189.\n\n[10] _Principles of Psychology,_ 3rd. ed., (1890), Vol. i, p. 482.\n\n[11] _The Expression of the Emotions,_ 1st ed., p. 78.\n\n[12] _L'homme et l'intelligence,_ p. 36.\n\n[13] Ibid. p. 37.\n\n[14] Ibid. p. 43.\n\n[15] _The Expression of the Emotions,_ 1st ed., pp. 72, 69, 70.\n\n[16] C. F\u00e9r\u00e9, _Sensation et Mouvement,_ Paris, 1887.\n\n[17] _Grundz\u00fcge der Physiologischen Psychologie,_ 2nd ed., (1880), Vol.\nii, p. 437.\n\n[18] \"On the Temperature Sense,\" _Mind,_ 1885.\n\n[19] Rood, _Modern Chromatics,_(1879), pp. 181-187.\n\n[20] _Handbuch der Physiologischen Optik,_ 1st ed. (1867), pp. 318-319.\n\n[21] _\u00c9l\u00e9ments de psychophysique._ Paris, 1883.\n\n[22] See the account given of these experiments in the _Revue\nphilosophique,_ 1887, Vol. i, p. 71, and Vol. ii, p. 180.\n\n[23] _\u00c9l\u00e9ments de psychophysique,_ pp. 61, 69.\n\n[24] In the particular case where we admit without restriction Weber's\nLaw \u0394E/E=_const.,_ integration gives S=C log. E/Q. Q being a constant.\nThis is Fechner's \"logarithmic law.\"\n\n[25] Latterly it has been assumed that \u0394S is proportional to S.\n\n[26] _Revue scientifique,_ March 13 and April 24, 1875.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nTHE MULTIPLICITY OF CONSCIOUS STATES[1]\n\n\nTHE IDEA OF DURATION\n\n\n[Sidenote: What is number?]\n\nNumber maybe defined in general as a collection of units, or, speaking\nmore exactly, as the synthesis of the one and the many. Every number\nis one, since it is brought before the mind by a simple intuition and\nis given a name; but the unity which attaches to it is that of a sum,\nit covers a multiplicity of parts which can be considered separately.\nWithout attempting for the present any thorough examination of these\nconceptions of unity and multiplicity, let us inquire whether the idea\nof number does not imply the representation of something else as well.\n\n[Sidenote: The units which make up a number must be identical.]\n\nIt is not enough to say that number is a collection of units; we must\nadd that these units are identical with one another, or at least that\nthey are assumed to be identical when they are counted. No doubt we\ncan count the sheep in a flock and say that there are fifty, although\nthey are all different from one another and are easily recognized by\nthe shepherd: but the reason is that we agree in that case to neglect\ntheir individual differences and to take into account only what they\nhave in common. On the other hand, as soon as we fix our attention on\nthe particular features of objects or individuals, we can of course\nmake an enumeration of them, but not a total. We place ourselves at\nthese two very different points of view when we count the soldiers in\na battalion and when we call the roll. Hence we may conclude that the\nidea of number implies the simple intuition of a multiplicity of parts\nor units, which are absolutely alike.\n\n[Sidenote: But they must also be distinct.]\n\nAnd yet they must be somehow distinct from one another, since otherwise\nthey would merge into a single unit. Let us assume that all the sheep\nin the flock are identical; they differ at least by the position which\nthey occupy in space, otherwise they would not form a flock. But now\nlet us even set aside the fifty sheep themselves and retain only the\nidea of them. Either we include them all in the same image, and it\nfollows as a necessary consequence that we place them side by side in\nan ideal space, or else we repeat fifty times in succession the image\nof a single one, and in that case it does seem, indeed, that the series\nlies in duration rather than in space. But we shall soon find out that\nit cannot be so. For if we picture to ourselves each of the sheep in\nthe flock in succession and separately, we shall never have to do\nwith more than a single sheep. In order that the number should go on\nincreasing in proportion as we advance, we must retain the successive\nimages and set them alongside each of the new units which we picture to\nourselves: now, it is in space that such a juxtaposition takes place\nand not in pure duration. In fact, it will be easily granted that\ncounting material objects means thinking all these objects together,\nthereby leaving them in space. But does this intuition of space\naccompany every idea of number, even of an abstract number?\n\n[Sidenote: We can not form an image or idea of number without the\naccompanying intuition of space.]\n\nAny one can answer this question by reviewing the various forms which\nthe idea of number has assumed for him since his childhood. It will be\nseen that we began by imagining e.g. a row of balls, that these balls\nafterwards became points, and, finally, this image itself disappeared,\nleaving behind it, as we say, nothing but _abstract_ number. But at\nthis very moment we ceased to have an image or even an idea of it; we\nkept only the symbol which is necessary for reckoning and which is\nthe conventional way of _expressing_ number. For we can confidently\nassert that 12 is half of 24 without thinking either the number 12 or\nthe number 24: indeed, as far as quick calculation is concerned, we\nhave everything to gain by not doing so. But as soon as we wish to\npicture _number_ to ourselves, and not merely figures or words, we\nare compelled to have recourse to an extended image. What leads to\nmisunderstanding on this point seems to be the habit we have fallen\ninto of counting in time rather than in space. In order to imagine the\nnumber 50, for example, we repeat all the numbers starting from unity,\nand when we have arrived at the fiftieth, we believe we have built up\nthe number in duration and in duration only. And there is no doubt that\nin this way we have counted moments of duration rather than points in\nspace; but the question is whether we have not counted the moments\nof duration by means of points in space. It is certainly possible to\nperceive in time, and in time only, a succession which is nothing but\na succession, but not an addition, i.e. a succession which culminates\nin a sum. For though we reach a sum by taking into account a succession\nof different terms, yet it is necessary that each of these terms should\nremain when we pass to the following, and should wait, so to speak, to\nbe added to the others: how could it wait, if it were nothing but an\ninstant of duration? And where could it wait if we did not localize it\nin space? We involuntarily fix at a point in space each of the moments\nwhich we count, and it is only on this condition that the abstract\nunits come to form a sum. No doubt it is possible, as we shall show\nlater, to conceive the successive moments of time independently of\nspace; but when we add to the present moment those which have preceded\nit, as is the case when we are adding up units, we are not dealing\nwith these moments themselves, since they have vanished for ever, but\nwith the lasting traces which they seem to have left in space on their\npassage through it. It is true that we generally dispense with this\nmental image, and that, after having used it for the first two or three\nnumbers, it is enough to know that it would serve just as well for the\nmental picturing of the others, if we needed it. But every clear idea\nof number implies a visual image in space; and the direct study of the\nunits which go to form a discrete multiplicity will lead us to the same\nconclusion on this point as the examination of number itself.\n\n[Sidenote: All unity is the unity of a simple act of the mind. Unity\ndivisible only because regarded as extended in space.]\n\nEvery number is a collection of units, as we have said, and on the\nother hand every number is itself a unit, in so far as it is a\nsynthesis of the units which compose it. But is the word unit taken in\nthe same sense in both cases? When we assert that number is a unit,\nwe understand by this that we master the whole of it by a simple\nand indivisible intuition of the mind; this unity thus includes a\nmultiplicity, since it is the unity of a whole. But when we speak of\nthe units which go to form number, we no longer think of these units\nas sums, but as pure, simple, irreducible units, intended to yield\nthe natural series of numbers by an indefinitely continued process of\naccumulation. It seems, then, that there are two kinds of units, the\none ultimate, out of which a number is formed by a process of addition,\nand the other provisional, the number so formed, which is multiple\nin itself, and owes its unity to the simplicity of the act by which\nthe mind perceives it. And there is no doubt that, when we picture\nthe units which make up number, we believe that we are thinking of\nindivisible components: this belief has a great deal to do with the\nidea that it is possible to conceive number independently of space.\nNevertheless, by looking more closely into the matter, we shall see\nthat all unity is the unity of a simple act of the mind, and that, as\nthis is an act of unification, there must be some multiplicity for it\nto unify. No doubt, at the moment at which I think each of these units\nseparately, I look upon it as indivisible, since I am determined to\nthink of its unity alone. But as soon as I put it aside in order to\npass to the next, I objectify it, and by that very deed I make it a\nthing, that is to say, a multiplicity. To convince oneself of this, it\nis enough to notice that the units by means of which arithmetic forms\nnumbers are _provisional_ units, which can be subdivided without limit,\nand that each of them is the sum of fractional quantities as small and\nas numerous as we like to imagine. How could we divide the unit, if\nit were here that ultimate unity which characterizes a simple act of\nthe mind? How could we split it up into fractions whilst affirming its\nunity, if we did not regard it implicitly as an extended object, one\nin intuition but multiple in space? You will never get out of an idea\nwhich you have formed anything which you have not put into it; and if\nthe unity by means of which you make up your number is the unity of\nan act and not of an object, no effort of analysis will bring out of\nit anything but unity pure and simple. No doubt, when you equate the\nnumber 3 to the sum of 1 + 1 + 1, nothing prevents you from regarding\nthe units which compose it as indivisible: but the reason is that you\ndo not choose to make use of the multiplicity which is enclosed within\neach of these units. Indeed, it is probable that the number 3 first\nassumes to our mind this simpler shape, because we think rather of the\nway in which we have obtained it than of the use which we might make\nof it. But we soon perceive that, while all multiplication implies the\npossibility of treating any number whatever as a provisional unit which\ncan be added to itself, inversely the units in their turn are true\nnumbers which are as big as we like, but are regarded as provisionally\nindivisible for the purpose of compounding them with one another. Now,\nthe very admission that it is possible to divide the unit into as many\nparts as we like, shows that we regard it as extended.\n\n[Sidenote: Number in process of formation is discontinuous, but, when\nformed, is invested with the continuity of space.]\n\nFor we must understand what is meant by the of number. It cannot\nbe denied that the formation or construction of a number implies\ndiscontinuity. In other words, as we remarked above, each of the units\nwith which we form the number 3 seems to be indivisible _while_ we are\ndealing with it, and we pass abruptly from one to the other. Again,\nif we form the same number with halves, with quarters, with any units\nwhatever, these units, in so far as they serve to form the said number,\nwill still constitute elements which are provisionally indivisible, and\nit is always by jerks, by sudden jumps, so to speak, that we advance\nfrom one to the other. And the reason is that, in order to get a\nnumber, we are compelled to fix our attention successively on each of\nthe units of which it is compounded. The indivisibility of the act by\nwhich we conceive any one of them is then represented under the form\nof a mathematical point which is separated from the following point\nby an interval of space. But, while a series of mathematical points\narranged in empty space expresses fairly well the process by which we\nform the idea of number, these mathematical points have a tendency to\ndevelop into lines in proportion as our attention is diverted from\nthem, as if they were trying to reunite with one another. And when we\nlook at number in its finished state, this union is an accomplished\nfact: the points have become lines, the divisions have been blotted\nout, the whole displays all the characteristics of continuity. This is\nwhy number, although we have formed it according to a definite law, can\nbe split up on any system we please. In a word, we must distinguish\nbetween the unity which we think of and the unity which we set up as an\nobject after having thought of it, as also between number in process of\nformation and number once formed. The unit is irreducible while we are\nthinking it and number is discontinuous while we are building it up:\nbut, as soon as we consider number in its finished state, we objectify\nit, and it then appears to be divisible to an unlimited extent. In\nfact, we apply the term _subjective_ to what seems to be completely and\nadequately known, and the term _objective_ to what is known in such a\nway that a constantly increasing number of new impressions could be\nsubstituted for the idea which we actually have of it. Thus, a complex\nfeeling will contain a fairly large number of simple elements; but,\nas long as these elements do not stand out with perfect clearness,\nwe cannot say that they were completely realized, and, as soon as\nconsciousness has a distinct perception of them, the psychic state\nwhich results from their synthesis will have changed for this very\nreason. But there is no change in the general appearance of a body,\nhowever it is analysed by thought, because these different analyses,\nand an infinity of others, are already visible in the mental image\nwhich we form of the body, though they are not realized: this actual\nand not merely virtual perception of subdivisions in what is undivided\nis just what we call objectivity. It then becomes easy to determine the\nexact part played by the subjective and the objective in the idea of\nnumber. What properly belongs to the mind is the indivisible process by\nwhich it concentrates attention successively on the different parts of\na given space; but the parts which have thus been isolated remain in\norder to join with the others, and, once the addition is made, they may\nbe broken up in any way whatever. They are therefore parts of space,\nand space is, accordingly, the material with which the mind builds up\nnumber, the medium in which the mind places it.\n\nProperly speaking, it is arithmetic which teaches us to split up\nwithout limit the units of which number consists. Common sense is very\nmuch inclined to build up number with indivisibles.\n\n[Sidenote: It follows that number is actually _thought of_ as a\njuxtaposition in space.]\n\nAnd this is easily understood, since the provisional simplicity of\nthe component units is just what they owe to the mind, and the latter\npays more attention to its own acts than to the material on which\nit works. Science confines itself, here, to drawing our attention\nto this material: if we did not already localize number in space,\nscience would certainly not succeed in making us transfer it thither.\nFrom the beginning, therefore, we must have thought of number as of\na juxtaposition in space. This is the conclusion which we reached\nat first, basing ourselves on the fact that all addition implies a\nmultiplicity of parts simultaneously perceived.\n\n[Sidenote: Two kinds of multiplicity: (1) material objects, counted\nin space; (2) conscious states, not countable unless symbolically\nrepresented in space.]\n\nNow, if this conception of number is granted, it will be seen that\neverything is not counted in the same way, and that there are two very\ndifferent kinds of multiplicity. When we speak of material objects,\nwe refer to the possibility of seeing and touching them; we localize\nthem in space. In that case, no effort of the inventive faculty or\nof symbolical representation is necessary in order to count them; we\nhave only to think them, at first separately, and then simultaneously,\nwithin the very medium in which they come under our observation. The\ncase is no longer the same when we consider purely affective psychic\nstates, or even mental images other than those built up by means\nof sight and touch. Here, the terms being no longer given in space,\nit seems, _a priori,_ that we can hardly count them except by some\nprocess of symbolical representation. In fact, we are well aware of a\nrepresentation of this kind when we are dealing with sensations the\ncause of which is obviously situated in space. Thus, when we hear a\nnoise of steps in the street, we have a confused vision of somebody\nwalking along: each of the successive sounds is then localized at a\npoint in space where the passer-by might tread: we count our sensations\nin the very space in which their tangible causes are ranged. Perhaps\nsome people count the successive strokes of a distant bell in a similar\nway, their imagination pictures the bell coming and going; this spatial\nsort of image is sufficient for the first two units, and the others\nfollow naturally. But most people's minds do not proceed in this way.\nThey range the successive sounds in an ideal space and then fancy\nthat they are counting them in pure duration. Yet we must be clear on\nthis point. The sounds of the bell certainly reach me one after the\nother; but one of two alternatives must be true. Either I retain each\nof these successive sensations in order to combine it with the others\nand form a group which reminds me of an air or rhythm which I know: in\nthat case I do not _count_ the sounds, I limit myself to gathering,\nso to speak, the qualitative impression produced by the whole series.\nOr else I intend explicitly to count them, and then I shall have\nto separate them, and this separation must take place within some\nhomogeneous medium in which the sounds, stripped of their qualities,\nand in a manner emptied, leave traces of their presence which are\nabsolutely alike. The question now is, whether this medium is time or\nspace. But a moment of time, we repeat, cannot persist in order to be\nadded to others. If the sounds are separated, they must leave empty\nintervals bet ween them. If we count them, the intervals must remain\nthough the sounds disappear: how could these intervals remain, if they\nwere pure duration and not space? It is in space, therefore, that the\noperation takes place. It becomes, indeed, more and more difficult\nas we penetrate further into the depths of consciousness. Here we\nfind ourselves confronted by a confused multiplicity of sensations\nand feelings which analysis alone can distinguish. Their number is\nidentical with the number of the moments which we take up when we count\nthem; but these moments, as they can be added to one another, are\nagain points in space. Our final conclusion, therefore, is that there\nare two kinds of multiplicity: that of material objects, to which the\nconception of number is immediately applicable; and the multiplicity of\nstates of consciousness, which cannot be regarded as numerical without\nthe help of some symbolical representation, in which a necessary\nelement is _space._\n\n[Sidenote: The impenetrability of matter is not a physical but a\nlogical necessity.]\n\nAs a matter of fact, each of us makes a distinction between these two\nkinds of multiplicity whenever he speaks of the impenetrability of\nmatter. We sometimes set up impenetrability as a fundamental property\nof bodies, known in the same way and put on the same level as e.g.\nweight or resistance. But a purely negative property of this kind\ncannot be revealed by our senses; indeed, certain experiments in\nmixing and combining things might lead us to call it in question if\nour minds were not already made up on the point. Try to picture one\nbody penetrating another: you will at once assume that there are empty\nspaces in the one which will be occupied by the particles of the other;\nthese particles in their turn cannot penetrate one another unless one\nof them divides in order to fill up the interstices of the other; and\nour thought will prolong this operation indefinitely in preference to\npicturing two bodies in the same place. Now, if impenetrability were\nreally a quality of matter which was known by the senses, it is not at\nall clear why we should experience more difficulty in conceiving two\nbodies merging into one another than a surface devoid of resistance\nor a weightless fluid. In reality, it is not a physical but a logical\nnecessity which attaches to the proposition: \"Two bodies cannot occupy\nthe same place at the same time\" The contrary assertion involves an\nabsurdity which no conceivable experience could succeed in dispelling.\n\nIn a word, it implies a contradiction. But does not this amount to\nrecognizing that the very idea of the number 2, or, more generally,\nof any number whatever, involves the idea of juxtaposition in space?\nIf impenetrability is generally regarded as a quality of matter, the\nreason is that the idea of number is thought to be independent of the\nidea of space. We thus believe that we are adding something to the\nidea of two or more objects by saying that they cannot occupy the\nsame place: as if the idea of the number 2, even the abstract number,\nwere not already, as we have shown, that of two different positions\nin space! Hence to assert the impenetrability of matter is simply to\nrecognize the interconnexion between the notions of number and space,\nit is to state a property of number rather than of matter.--Yet, it\nwill be said, do we not count feelings, sensations, ideas, all of\nwhich permeate one another, and each of which, for its part, takes\nup the whole of the soul?--Yes, undoubtedly; but, just because they\npermeate one another, we cannot count them unless we represent them\nby homogeneous units which occupy separate positions in space and\nconsequently no longer permeate one another. Impenetrability thus makes\nits appearance at the same time as number; and when we attribute this\nquality to matter in order to distinguish it from everything which\nis not matter, we simply state under another form the distinction\nestablished above between extended objects, to which the conception of\nnumber is immediately applicable, and states of consciousness, which\nhave first of all to be represented symbolically in space.\n\n[Sidenote: Homogeneous time as the medium in which conscious states\nform discrete series. This time is nothing but space, and pure duration\nis something different.]\n\nIt is advisable to dwell on the last point. If, in order to count\nstates of consciousness, we have to represent them symbolically in\nspace, is it not likely that this symbolical representation will alter\nthe normal conditions of inner perception? Let us recall what we\nsaid a short time ago about the intensity of certain psychic states.\nRepresentative sensation, looked at in itself, is pure quality; but,\nseen through the medium of extensity, this quality becomes in a\ncertain sense quantity, and is called intensity. In the same way, our\nprojection of our psychic states into space in order to form a discrete\nmultiplicity is likely to influence these states themselves and to\ngive them in reflective consciousness a new form, which immediate\nperception did not attribute to them. Now, let us notice that when we\nspeak of _time,_ we generally think of a homogeneous medium in which\nour conscious states are ranged alongside one another as in space, so\nas to form a discrete multiplicity. Would not time, thus understood, be\nto the multiplicity of our psychic states what intensity is to certain\nof them,--a sign, a symbol, absolutely distinct from true duration?\nLet us ask consciousness to isolate itself from the external world,\nand, by a vigorous effort of abstraction, to become itself again.\nWe shall then put this question to it: does the multiplicity of our\nconscious states bear the slightest resemblance to the multiplicity of\nthe units of a number? Has true duration anything to do with space?\nCertainly, our analysis of the idea of number could not but make us\ndoubt this analogy, to say no more. For if time, as the reflective\nconsciousness represents it, is a medium in which our conscious states\nform a discrete series so as to admit of being counted, and if on the\nother hand our conception of number ends in spreading out in space\neverything which can be directly counted, it is to be presumed that\ntime, understood in the sense of a medium in which we make distinctions\nand count, is nothing but space. That which goes to confirm this\nopinion is that we are compelled to borrow from space the images by\nwhich we describe what the reflective consciousness feels about time\nand even about succession; it follows that pure duration must be\nsomething different. Such are the questions which we have been led to\nask by the very analysis of the notion of discrete multiplicity. But we\ncannot throw any light upon them except by a direct study of the ideas\nof space and time in their mutual relations.\n\n[Sidenote: Does space exist independently of its contents, as Kant\nheld?]\n\nWe shall not lay too much stress on the question of the absolute\nreality of space: perhaps we might as well ask whether space is or\nis not in space. In short, our senses perceive the qualities of\nbodies and space along with them: the great difficulty seems to have\nbeen to discover whether extensity is an aspect of these physical\nqualities--a quality of quality--or whether these qualities are\nessentially unextended, space coming in as a later addition, but being\nself-sufficient and existing without them. On the first hypothesis,\nspace would be reduced to an abstraction, or, speaking more correctly,\nan extract; it would express the common element possessed by certain\nsensations called representative. In the second case, space would be a\nreality as solid as the sensations themselves, although of a different\norder. We owe the exact formulation of this latter conception to Kant:\nthe theory which he works out in the Transcendental Aesthetic consists\nin endowing space with an existence independent of its content, in\nlaying down as _de jure_ separable what each of us separates _de\nfacto,_ and in refusing to regard extensity as an abstraction like the\nothers. In this respect the Kantian conception of space differs less\nthan is usually imagined from the popular belief. Far from shaking our\nfaith in the reality of space, Kant has shown what it actually means\nand has even justified it.\n\n[Sidenote: The empiricists really agree with Kant for extensity can not\nresult from synthesis of unextended sensations without an act of the\nmind.]\n\nMoreover, the solution given by Kant does not seem to have been\nseriously disputed since his time: indeed, it has forced itself,\nsometimes without their knowledge, on the majority of those who\nhave approached the problem anew, whether nativists or empiricists.\nPsychologists agree in assigning a Kantian origin to the nativistic\nexplanation of Johann M\u00fcller; but Lotze's hypothesis of local signs,\nBain's theory, and the more comprehensive explanation suggested by\nWundt, may seem at first quite independent of the Transcendental\nAesthetic. The authors of these theories seem indeed to have put aside\nthe problem of the nature of space, in order to investigate simply\nby what process our sensations come to be situated in space and to\nbe set, so to speak, alongside one another: but this very question\nshows that they regard sensations as inextensive and make a radical\ndistinction, just as Kant did, between the matter of representation\nand its form. The conclusion to be drawn from the theories of Lotze\nand Bain, and from Wundt's attempt to reconcile them, is that the\nsensations by means of which we come to form the notion of space are\nthemselves unextended and simply qualitative: extensity is supposed\nto result from their synthesis, as water from the combination of two\ngases. The empirical or genetic explanations have thus taken up the\nproblem of space at the very point where Kant left it: Kant separated\nspace from its contents: the empiricists ask how these contents, which\nare taken out of space by our thought, manage to get back again. It is\ntrue that they have apparently disregarded the activity of the mind,\nand that they are obviously inclined to regard the extensive form under\nwhich we represent things as produced by a kind of alliance of the\nsensations with one another: space, without being extracted from the\nsensations, is supposed to result from their co-existence. But how can\nwe explain such an origination without the active intervention of the\nmind? The extensive differs by hypothesis from the inextensive: and\neven if we assume that extension is nothing but a relation between\ninextensive terms, this relation must still be established by a mind\ncapable of thus associating several terms. It is no use quoting the\nexample of chemical combinations, in which the whole seems to assume,\nof its own accord, a form and qualities which did not belong to any\nof the elementary atoms. This form and these qualities owe their\norigin just to the fact that we gather up the multiplicity of atoms\nin a single perception: get rid of the mind which carries out this\nsynthesis and you will at once do away with the qualities, that is\nto say, the aspect under which the synthesis of elementary parts is\npresented to our consciousness. Thus inextensive sensations will remain\nwhat they are, viz., inextensive sensations, if nothing be added to\nthem. For their co-existence to give rise to space, there must be an\nact of the mind which takes them in all at the same time and sets them\nin juxtaposition: this unique act is very like what Kant calls an _a\npriori_ form of sensibility.\n\n[Sidenote: This act consists in the intuition of an empty homogeneous\nmedium: perhaps peculiar to man and not shared by animals.]\n\nIf we now seek to characterize this act, we see that it consists\nessentially in the intuition, or rather the conception, of an empty\nhomogeneous medium. For it is scarcely possible to give any other\ndefinition of space: space is what enables us to distinguish a number\nof identical and simultaneous sensations from one another; it is\nthus a principle of differentiation other than that of qualitative\ndifferentiation, and consequently it is a reality with no quality.\nSomeone may say, with the believers in the theory of local signs, that\nsimultaneous sensations are never identical, and that, in consequence\nof the diversity of the organic elements which they affect, there are\nno two points of a homogeneous surface which make the same impression\non the sight or the touch. We are quite ready to grant it, for if these\ntwo points affected us in the same way, there would be no reason for\nplacing one of them on the right rather than on the left. But, just\nbecause we afterwards interpret this difference of quality in the sense\nof a difference of situation, it follows that we must have a clear\nidea of a homogeneous medium, i.e. of a simultaneity of terms which,\nalthough identical in quality, are yet distinct from one another. The\nmore you insist on the difference between the impressions made on\nour retina by two points of a homogeneous surface, the more do you\nthereby make room for the activity of the mind, which perceives under\nthe form of extensive homogeneity what is given it as qualitative\nheterogeneity. No doubt, though the representation of a homogeneous\nspace grows out of an effort of the mind, there must be within the\nqualities themselves which differentiate two sensations some reason\nwhy they occupy this or that definite position in space. We must thus\ndistinguish between the perception of extensity and the conception of\nspace: they are no doubt implied in one another, but, the higher we\nrise in the scale of intelligent beings, the more clearly do we meet\nwith the independent idea of a homogeneous space. It is therefore\ndoubtful whether animals perceive the external world quite as we do,\nand especially whether they represent externality in the same way as\nourselves. Naturalists have pointed out, as a remarkable fact, the\nsurprising ease with which many vertebrates, and even some insects,\nmanage to find their way through space. Animals have been seen to\nreturn almost in a straight line to their old home, pursuing a path\nwhich was hitherto unknown to them over a distance which may amount\nto several hundreds of miles. Attempts have been made to explain this\nfeeling of direction by sight or smell, and, more recently, by the\nperception of magnetic currents which would enable the animal to take\nits bearings like a living compass. This amounts to saying that space\nis not so homogeneous for the animal as for us, and that determinations\nof space, or directions, do not assume for it a purely geometrical\nform. Each of these directions might appear to it with its own shade,\nits peculiar quality. We shall understand how a perception of this\nkind is possible if we remember that we ourselves distinguish our right\nfrom our left by a natural feeling, and that these two parts of our own\nextensity do then appear to us as if they bore a different _quality;_\nin fact, this is the very reason why we cannot give a proper definition\nof right and left. In truth, qualitative differences exist everywhere\nin nature, and I do not see why two concrete directions should not be\nas marked in immediate perception as two colours. But the conception of\nan empty homogeneous medium is something far more extraordinary, being\na kind of reaction against that heterogeneity which is the very ground\nof our experience. Therefore, instead of saying that animals have a\nspecial sense of direction, we may as well say that men have a special\nfaculty of perceiving or conceiving a space without quality. This\nfaculty is not the faculty of abstraction: indeed, if we notice that\nabstraction assumes clean-cut distinctions and a kind of externality\nof the concepts or their symbols with regard to one another, we shall\nfind that the faculty of abstraction already implies the intuition\nof a homogeneous medium. What we must say is that we have to do\nwith two different kinds of reality, the one heterogeneous, that of\nsensible qualities, the other homogeneous, namely space. This latter,\nclearly conceived by the human intellect, enables us to use clean-cut\ndistinctions, to count, to abstract, and perhaps also to speak.\n\n[Sidenote: Time, in so far as it is a homogenious medium, and not\nconcrete duration, is reducible to space.]\n\nNow, if space is to be defined as the homogeneous, it seems that\ninversely every homogeneous and unbounded medium will be space. For,\nhomogeneity here consisting in the absence of every quality, it is hard\nto see how two forms of the homogeneous could be distinguished from\none another. Nevertheless it is generally agreed to regard time as an\nunbounded medium, different from space but homogeneous like the latter:\nthe homogeneous is thus supposed to take two forms, according as its\ncontents co-exist or follow one another. It is true that, when we make\ntime a homogeneous medium in which conscious states unfold themselves,\nwe take it to be given all at once, which amounts to saying that we\nabstract it from duration. This simple consideration ought to warn us\nthat we are thus unwittingly falling back upon space, and really giving\nup time. Moreover, we can understand that material objects, being\nexterior to one another and to ourselves, derive both exteriorities\nfrom the homogeneity of a medium which inserts intervals between them\nand sets off their outlines: but states of consciousness, even when\nsuccessive, permeate one another, and in the simplest of them the whole\nsoul can be reflected. We may therefore surmise that time, conceived\nunder the form of a homogeneous medium, is some spurious concept,\ndue to the trespassing of the idea of space upon the field of pure\nconsciousness. At any rate we cannot finally admit two forms of the\nhomogeneous, time and space, without first seeking whether one of them\ncannot be reduced to the other. Now, externality is the distinguishing\nmark of things which occupy space, while states of consciousness are\nnot essentially external to one another, and become so only by being\nspread out in time, regarded as a homogeneous medium. If, then, one of\nthese two supposed forms of the homogeneous, namely time and space,\nis derived from the other, we can surmise _a priori_ that the idea of\nspace is the fundamental datum. But, misled by the apparent simplicity\nof the idea of time, the philosophers who have tried to reduce one of\nthese ideas to the other have thought that they could make extensity\nout of duration. While showing how they have been misled, we shall see\nthat time, conceived under the form of an unbounded and homogeneous\nmedium, is nothing but the ghost of space haunting the reflective\nconsciousness.\n\n[Sidenote: Mistake of the attempt to derive relations of extensity from\nthose of succession. The conception of pure \"duration.\"]\n\nThe English school tries, in fact, to reduce relations of extensity to\nmore or less complex relations of succession in time. When, with our\neyes shut, we run our hands along a surface, the rubbing of our fingers\nagainst the surface, and especially the varied play of our joints,\nprovide a series of sensations, which differ only by their _qualities_\nand which exhibit a certain order in time. Moreover, experience teaches\nus that this series can be reversed, that we can, by an effort of\na different kind (or, as we shall call it later, _in an opposite\ndirection),_ obtain the same sensations over again in an inverse order:\nrelations of position in space might then be defined as reversible\nrelations of succession in time. But such a definition involves a\nvicious circle, or at least a very superficial idea of time. There are,\nindeed, as we shall show a little later, two possible conceptions of\ntime, the one free from all alloy, the other surreptitiously bringing\nin the idea of space. Pure duration is the form which the succession of\nour conscious states assumes when our ego lets itself _live,_ when it\nrefrains from separating its present state from its former states. For\nthis purpose it need not be entirely absorbed in the passing sensation\nor idea; for then, on the contrary, it would no longer _endure._ Nor\nneed it forget its former states: it is enough that, in recalling these\nstates, it does not set them alongside its actual state as one point\nalongside another, but forms both the past and the present states\ninto an organic whole, as happens when we recall the notes of a tune,\nmelting, so to speak, into one another. Might it not be said that,\neven if these notes succeed one another, yet we perceive them in one\nanother, and that their totality may be compared to a living being\nwhose parts, although distinct, permeate one another just because they\nare so closely connected? The proof is that, if we interrupt the rhythm\nby dwelling longer than is right on one note of the tune, it is not\nits exaggerated length, as length, which will warn us of our mistake,\nbut the qualitative change thereby caused in the whole of the musical\nphrase. We can thus conceive of succession without distinction, and\nthink of it as a mutual penetration, an interconnexion and organization\nof elements, each one of which represents the whole, and cannot be\ndistinguished or isolated from it except by abstract thought. Such\nis the account of duration which would be given by a being who was\never the same and ever changing, and who had no idea of space. But,\nfamiliar with the latter idea and indeed beset by it, we introduce it\nunwittingly into our feeling of pure succession; we set our states\nof consciousness side by side in such a way as to perceive them\nsimultaneously, no longer in one another, but alongside one another;\nin a word, we project time into space, we express duration in terms of\nextensity, and succession thus takes the form of a continuous line or a\nchain, the parts of which touch without penetrating one another. Note\nthat the mental image thus shaped implies the perception, no longer\nsuccessive, but simultaneous, of a _before_ and _after,_ and that it\nwould be a contradiction to suppose a succession which was only a\nsuccession, and which nevertheless was contained in one and the same\ninstant. Now, when we speak of an _order_ of succession in duration,\nand of the reversibility of this order, is the succession we are\ndealing with pure succession, such as we have just defined it, without\nany admixture of extensity, or is it succession developing in space, in\nsuch a way that we can take in at once a number of elements which are\nboth distinct and set side by side? There is no doubt about the answer:\nwe could not introduce _order_ among terms without first distinguishing\nthem and then comparing the places which they occupy; hence we must\nperceive them as multiple, simultaneous and distinct; in a word, we set\nthem side by side, and if we introduce an order in what is successive,\nthe reason is that succession is converted into simultaneity and\nis projected into space. In short, when the movement of my finger\nalong a surface or a line provides me with a series of sensations of\ndifferent qualities, one of two things happens: either I picture these\nsensations to myself as in duration only, and in that case they succeed\none another in such a way that I cannot at a given moment perceive a\nnumber of them as simultaneous and yet distinct; or else I make out an\norder of succession, but in that case I display the faculty not only of\nperceiving a succession of elements, but also of setting them out in\nline after having distinguished them: in a word, I already possess the\nidea of space. Hence the idea of a reversible series in duration, or\neven simply of a certain _order_ of succession in time, itself implies\nthe representation of space, and cannot be used to define it.\n\n[Sidenote: Succession cannot be symbolized as a line without\nintroducing the idea of space of three dimensions.]\n\nTo give this argument a stricter form, let us imagine a straight line\nof unlimited length, and on this line a material point A, which\nmoves. If this point were conscious of itself, it would feel itself\nchange, since it moves: it would perceive a succession; but would\nthis succession assume for it the form of a line? No doubt it would,\nif it could rise, so to speak, above the line which it traverses, and\nperceive simultaneously several points of it in juxtaposition: but\nby doing so it would form the idea of space, and it is in space and\nnot in pure duration that it would see displayed the changes which it\nundergoes. We here put our finger on the mistake of those who regard\npure duration as something similar to space, but of a simpler nature.\nThey are fond of setting psychic states side by side, of forming a\nchain or a line of them, and do not imagine that they are introducing\ninto this operation the idea of space properly so called, the idea of\nspace in its totality, because space is a medium of three dimensions.\nBut how can they fail to notice that, in order to perceive a line as\na line, it is necessary to take up a position outside it, to take\naccount of the void which surrounds it, and consequently to think\na space of three dimensions? If our conscious point A does not yet\npossess the idea of space--and this is the hypothesis which we have\nagreed to adopt--the succession of states through which it passes\ncannot assume for it the form of a line; but its sensations will add\nthemselves dynamically to one another and will organize themselves,\nlike the successive notes of a tune by which we allow ourselves to be\nlulled and soothed. In a word, pure duration might well be nothing but\na succession of qualitative changes, which melt into and permeate one\nanother, without precise outlines, without any tendency to externalize\nthemselves in relation to one another, without any affiliation with\nnumber: it would be pure heterogeneity. But for the present we shall\nnot insist upon this point; it is enough for us to have shown that,\nfrom the moment when you attribute the least homogeneity to duration,\nyou surreptitiously introduce space.\n\n[Sidenote: Pure duration is wholly qualitative. It cannot be measured\nunless symbolically represented in space.]\n\nIt is true that we count successive moments of duration, and that,\nbecause of its relations with number, time at first seems to us to\nbe a measurable magnitude, just like space. But there is here an\nimportant distinction to be made. I say, e.g., that a minute has just\nelapsed, and I mean by this that a pendulum, beating the seconds, has\ncompleted sixty oscillations. If I picture these sixty oscillations\nto myself all at once by a single mental perception, I exclude by\nhypothesis the idea of a succession. I do not think of sixty strokes\nwhich succeed one another, but of sixty points on a fixed line, each\none of which symbolizes, so to speak, an oscillation of the pendulum.\nIf, on the other hand, I wish to picture these sixty oscillations in\nsuccession, but without altering the way they are produced in space,\nI shall be compelled to think of each oscillation to the exclusion\nof the recollection of the preceding one, for space has preserved no\ntrace of it; but by doing so I shall condemn myself to remain for ever\nin the present; I shall give up the attempt to think a succession or a\nduration. Now if, finally, I retain the recollection of the preceding\noscillation together with the image of the present oscillation, one of\ntwo things will happen. Either I shall set the two images side by side,\nand we then fall back on our first hypothesis, or I shall perceive one\nin the other, each permeating the other and organizing themselves like\nthe notes of a tune, so as to form what we shall call a continuous or\nqualitative multiplicity with no resemblance to number. I shall thus\nget the image of pure duration; but I shall have entirely got rid of\nthe idea of a homogeneous medium or a measurable quantity. By carefully\nexamining our consciousness we shall recognize that it proceeds in this\nway whenever it refrains from representing duration symbolically. When\nthe regular oscillations of the pendulum make us sleepy, is it the last\nsound heard, the last movement perceived, which produces this effect?\nNo, undoubtedly not, for why then should not the first have done the\nsame? Is it the recollection of the preceding sounds or movements, set\nin juxtaposition to the last one? But this same recollection, if it\nis later on set in juxtaposition to a single sound or movement, will\nremain without effect. Hence we must admit that the sounds combined\nwith one another and acted, not by their quantity as quantity, but\nby the quality which their quantity exhibited, i.e. by the rhythmic\norganization of the whole. Could the effect of a slight but continuous\nstimulation be understood in any other way? If the sensation remained\nalways the same, it would continue to be indefinitely slight and\nindefinitely bearable. But the fact is that each increase of\nstimulation is taken up into the preceding stimulations, and that the\nwhole produces on us the effect of a musical phrase which is constantly\non the point of ending and constantly altered in its totality by the\naddition of some new note. If we assert that it is always the _same_\nsensation, the reason is that we are thinking, not of the sensation\nitself, but of its objective cause situated in space. We then set it\nout in space in its turn, and in place of an organism which develops,\nin place of changes which permeate one another, we perceive one and\nthe same sensation stretching itself out lengthwise, so to speak,\nand setting itself in juxtaposition to itself without limit. Pure\nduration, that which consciousness perceives, must thus be reckoned\namong the so-called intensive magnitudes, if intensities can be called\nmagnitudes: strictly speaking, however, it is not a quantity, and as\nsoon as we try to measure it, we unwittingly replace it by space.\n\n[Sidenote: Time, as dealt with by the astronomer and the physicist,\ndoes indeed _seem_ to be measurable and therefore homogeneous.]\n\nBut we find it extraordinarily difficult to think of duration in its\noriginal purity; this is due, no doubt, to the fact that we do not\n_endure_ alone, external objects, it seems, _endure_ as we do, and\ntime, regarded from this point of view, has every appearance of a\nhomogeneous medium. Not only do the moments of this duration seem to\nbe external to one another, like bodies in space, but the movement\nperceived by our senses is the, so to speak, palpable sign of a\nhomogeneous and measurable duration. Nay more, time enters into the\nformulae of mechanics, into the calculations of the astronomer, and\neven of the physicist, under the form of a quantity. We measure the\nvelocity of a movement, implying that time itself is a magnitude.\nIndeed, the analysis which we have just attempted requires to be\ncompleted, for if duration properly so-called cannot be measured,\nwhat is it that is measured by the oscillations of the pendulum?\nGranted that inner duration, perceived by consciousness, is nothing\nelse but the melting of states of consciousness into one another, and\nthe gradual growth of the ego, it will be said, notwithstanding, that\nthe time which the astronomer introduces into his formulae, the time\nwhich our clocks divide into equal portions, this time, at least, is\nsomething different: it must be a measurable and therefore homogeneous\nmagnitude.--It is nothing of the sort, however, and a close examination\nwill dispel this last illusion.\n\n[Sidenote: But what we call measuring time is nothing but counting\nsimultaneities. The clock taken as an illustration.]\n\nWhen I follow with my eyes on the dial of a clock the movement of\nthe hand which corresponds to the oscillations of the pendulum, I\ndo not measure duration, as seems to be thought; I merely count\nsimultaneities, which is very different. Outside of me, in space, there\nis never more than a single position of the hand and the pendulum,\nfor nothing is left of the past positions. Within myself a process\nof organization or interpenetration of conscious states is going on,\nwhich constitutes true duration. It is because I _endure_ in this way\nthat I picture to myself what I call the past oscillations of the\npendulum at the same time as I perceive the present oscillation. Now,\nlet us withdraw for a moment the ego which thinks these so-called\nsuccessive oscillations: there will never be more than a single\noscillation, and indeed only a single position, of the pendulum, and\nhence no duration. Withdraw, on the other hand, the pendulum and its\noscillations; there will no longer be anything but the heterogeneous\nduration of the ego, without moments external to one another, without\nrelation to number. Thus, within our ego, there is succession without\nmutual externality; outside the ego, in pure space, mutual externality\nwithout succession: mutual externality, since the present oscillation\nis radically distinct from the previous oscillation, which no longer\nexists; but no succession, since succession exists solely for a\nconscious spectator who keeps the past in mind and sets the two\noscillations or their symbols side by side in an auxiliary space.\nNow, between this succession without externality and this externality\nwithout succession, a kind of exchange takes place, very similar to\nwhat physicists call the phenomenon of endosmosis. As the successive\nphases of our conscious life, although interpenetrating, correspond\nindividually to an oscillation of the pendulum which occurs at the same\ntime, and as, moreover, these oscillations are sharply distinguished\nfrom one another, we get into the habit of setting up the same\ndistinction between the successive moments of our conscious life: the\noscillations of the pendulum break it up, so to speak, into parts\nexternal to one another: hence the mistaken idea of a homogeneous inner\nduration, similar to space, the moments of which are identical and\nfollow, without penetrating, one another. But, on the other hand, the\noscillations of the pendulum, which are distinct only because one has\ndisappeared when the other appears on the scene, profit, as it were,\nfrom the influence which they have thus exercised over our conscious\nlife. Owing to the fact that our consciousness has organized them as a\nwhole in memory, they are first preserved and afterwards disposed in\na series: in a word, we create for them a fourth dimension of space,\nwhich we call homogeneous time, and which enables the movement of the\npendulum, although taking place at one spot, to be continually set in\njuxtaposition to itself. Now, if we try to determine the exact part\nplayed by the real and the imaginary in this very complex process,\nthis is what we find. There is a real space, without duration, in\nwhich phenomena appear and disappear simultaneously with our states of\nconsciousness. There is a real duration, the heterogeneous moments of\nwhich permeate one another; each moment, however, can be brought into\nrelation with a state of the external world which is contemporaneous\nwith it, and can be separated from the other moments in consequence\nof this very process. The comparison of these two realities gives\nrise to a symbolical representation of duration, derived from space.\nDuration thus assumes the illusory form of a homogeneous medium, and\nthe connecting link between these two terms, space and duration, is\nsimultaneity, which might be defined as the intersection of time and\nspace.\n\n[Sidenote: Two elements in motion: (1) the space traversed, which is\nhomogeneous and divisible; (2) the act of traversing, indivisible and\nreal only for consciousness.]\n\nIf we analyse in the same way the concept of motion, the living symbol\nof this seemingly homogeneous duration, we shall be led to make a\ndistinction of the same kind. We generally say that a movement takes\nplace _in_ space, and when we assert that motion is homogeneous and\ndivisible, it is of the space traversed that we are thinking, as if\nit were interchangeable with the motion itself. Now, if we reflect\nfurther, we shall see that the successive positions of the moving\nbody really do occupy space, but that the process by which it passes\nfrom one position to the other, a process which occupies duration and\nwhich has no reality except for a conscious spectator, eludes space.\nWe have to do here not with an _object_ but with a _progress_: motion,\nin so far as it is a passage from one point to another, is a mental\nsynthesis, a psychic and therefore unextended process. Space contains\nonly parts of space, and at whatever point of space we consider the\nmoving body, we shall get only a position. If consciousness is aware\nof anything more than positions, the reason is that it keeps the\nsuccessive positions in mind and synthesizes them. But how does it\ncarry out a synthesis of this kind? It cannot be by a fresh setting out\nof these same positions in a homogeneous medium, for a fresh synthesis\nwould be necessary to connect the positions with one another, and so\non indefinitely. We are thus compelled to admit that we have here to\ndo with a synthesis which is, so to speak, qualitative, a gradual\norganization of our successive sensations, a unity resembling that\nof a phrase in a melody. This is just the idea of motion which we\nform when we think of it by itself, when, so to speak, from motion we\nextract mobility. Think of what you experience on suddenly perceiving\na shooting star: in this extremely rapid motion there is a natural and\ninstinctive separation between the space traversed, which appears to\nyou under the form of a line of fire, and the absolutely indivisible\nsensation of motion or mobility. A rapid gesture, made with one's eyes\nshut, will assume for consciousness the form of a purely qualitative\nsensation as long as there is no thought of the space traversed. In\na word, there are two elements to be distinguished in motion, the\nspace traversed and the act by which we traverse it, the successive\npositions and the synthesis of these positions. The first of these\nelements is a homogeneous quantity: the second has no reality except in\na consciousness: it is a quality or an intensity, whichever you prefer.\nBut here again we meet with a case of endosmosis, an intermingling\nof the purely intensive sensation of mobility with the extensive\nrepresentation of the space traversed. On the one hand we attribute to\nthe motion the divisibility of the space which it traverses, forgetting\nthat it is quite possible to divide an _object,_ but not an _act_: and\non the other hand we accustom ourselves to projecting this act itself\ninto space, to applying it to the whole of the line which the moving\nbody traverses, in a word, to solidifying it: as if this localizing of\na _progress_ in space did not amount to asserting that, even outside\nconsciousness, the past co-exists along with the present!\n\n[Sidenote: The common confusion between motion and the space traversed\ngives rise to the paradoxes of the Eleatics.]\n\nIt is to this confusion between motion and the space traversed that the\nparadoxes of the Eleatics are due; for the interval which separates two\npoints is infinitely divisible, and if motion consisted of parts like\nthose of the interval itself, the interval would never be crossed.\nBut the truth is that each of Achilles' steps is a simple indivisible\nact, and that, after a given number of these acts, Achilles will have\npassed the tortoise. The mistake of the Eleatics arises from their\nidentification of this series of acts, each of which is _of a definite\nkind_ and _indivisible,_ with the homogeneous space which underlies\nthem. As this space can be divided and put together again according\nto any law whatever, they think they are justified in reconstructing\nAchilles' whole movement, not with Achilles' kind of step, but with\nthe tortoise's kind: in place of Achilles pursuing the tortoise they\nreally put two tortoises, regulated by each other, two tortoises which\nagree to make the same kind of steps or simultaneous acts, so as\nnever to catch one another. Why does Achilles outstrip the tortoise?\nBecause each of Achilles' steps and each of the tortoise's steps are\nindivisible acts in so far as they are movements, and are different\nmagnitudes in so far as they are space: so that addition will soon give\na greater length for the space traversed by Achilles than is obtained\nby adding together the space traversed by the tortoise and the handicap\nwith which it started. This is what Zeno leaves out of account when he\nreconstructs the movement of Achilles according to the same law as the\nmovement of the tortoise, forgetting that space alone can be divided\nand put together again in any way we like, and thus confusing space\nwith motion. Hence we do not think it necessary to admit, even after\nthe acute and profound analysis of a contemporary thinker,[2] that\nthe meeting of the two moving bodies implies a discrepancy between\nreal and imaginary motion, between _space in itself_ and indefinitely\ndivisible space, between concrete time and abstract time. Why resort\nto a metaphysical hypothesis, however ingenious, about the nature of\nspace, time, and motion, when immediate intuition shows us motion\nwithin duration, and duration outside space? There is no need to assume\na limit to the divisibility of concrete space; we can admit that it\nis infinitely divisible, provided that we make a distinction between\nthe simultaneous positions of the two moving bodies, which are in\nfact in space, and their movements, which cannot occupy space, being\nduration rather than extent, quality and not quantity. To measure the\nvelocity of a movement, as we shall see, is simply to ascertain a\nsimultaneity; to introduce this velocity into calculations is simply to\nuse a convenient means of anticipating a simultaneity. Thus mathematics\nconfines itself to its own province as long as it is occupied with\ndetermining the simultaneous positions of Achilles and the tortoise\nat a given moment, or when it admits _\u00e0 priori_ that the two moving\nbodies meet at a point _X_--a meeting which is itself a simultaneity.\nBut it goes beyond its province when it claims to reconstruct what\ntakes place in the interval between two simultaneities; or rather it\nis inevitably led, even then, to consider simultaneities once more,\nfresh simultaneities, the indefinitely increasing number of which ought\nto be a warning that we cannot make movement out of immobilities, nor\ntime out of space. In short, just as nothing will be found homogeneous\nin duration except a symbolical medium with no duration at all, namely\nspace, in which simultaneities are set out in line, in the same way no\nhomogeneous element will be found in motion except that which least\nbelongs to it, the traversed space, which is motionless.\n\n[Sidenote: Science has to eliminate duration from time and mobility\nfrom motion before it can deal with them.]\n\nNow, just for this reason, science cannot deal with time and motion\nexcept on condition of first eliminating the essential and qualitative\nelement--of time, duration, and of motion, mobility. We may easily\nconvince ourselves of this by examining the part played in astronomy\nand mechanics by considerations of time, motion, and velocity.\n\nTreatises on mechanics are careful to announce that they do not intend\nto define duration itself but only the equality of two durations. \"Two\nintervals of time are equal when two identical bodies, in identical\nconditions at the beginning of each of these intervals and subject to\nthe same actions and influences of every kind, have traversed the same\nspace at the end of these intervals.\" In other words, we are to note\nthe exact moment at which the motion begins, i.e. the coincidence of\nan external change with one of our psychic states; we are to note the\nmoment at which the motion ends, that is to say, another simultaneity;\nfinally we are to measure the space traversed, the only thing, in\nfact, which is really measurable. Hence there is no question here\nof duration, but only of space and simultaneities. To announce that\nsomething will take place at the end of a time _t_ is to declare\nthat consciousness will note between now and then a number _t_ of\nsimultaneities of a certain kind. And we must not be led astray by the\nwords \"between now and then,\" for the interval of duration exists only\nfor us and on account of the interpenetration of our conscious states.\nOutside ourselves we should find only space, and consequently nothing\nbut simultaneities, of which we could not even say that they are\nobjectively successive, since succession can only be thought through\n_comparing_ the present with the past.--That the interval of duration\nitself cannot be taken into account by science is proved by the fact\nthat, if all the motions of the universe took place twice or thrice as\nquickly, there would be nothing to alter either in our formulae or in\nthe figures which are to be found in them. Consciousness would have\nan indefinable and as it were qualitative impression of the change,\nbut the change would not make itself felt outside consciousness, since\nthe same number of simultaneities would go on taking place in space.\nWe shall see, later on, that when the astronomer predicts, e.g., an\neclipse, he does something of this kind: he shortens infinitely the\nintervals of duration, as these do not count for science, and thus\nperceives in a very short time--a few seconds at the most--a succession\nof simultaneities which may take up several centuries for the concrete\nconsciousness, compelled to live through the intervals instead of\nmerely counting their extremities.\n\n[Sidenote: This is seen in the definition of _velocity._]\n\nA direct analysis of the notion of velocity will bring us to the same\nconclusion. Mechanics gets this notion through a series of ideas, the\nconnexion of which it is easy enough to trace. It first builds up the\nidea of uniform motion by picturing, on the one hand, the path AB of a\ncertain moving body, and, on the other, a physical phenomenon which is\nrepeated indefinitely under the same conditions, e.g., a stone always\nfalling from the same height on to the same spot. If we mark on the\npath AB the points M, \u039d, P ... reached by the moving body at each of\nthe moments when the stone touches the ground, and if the intervals\nAM, MN and NP are found to be equal to one another, the motion will\nbe said to be uniform: and any one of these intervals will be called\nthe velocity of the moving body, provided that it is agreed to adopt\nas unit of duration the physical phenomenon which has been chosen as\nthe term of comparison. Thus, the velocity of a uniform motion is\ndefined by mechanics without appealing to any other notions than those\nof space and simultaneity. Now let us turn to the case of a variable\nmotion, that is, to the case when the elements AM, MN, NP ... are found\nto be unequal. In order to define the velocity of the moving body A\nat the point M, we shall only have to imagine an unlimited number of\nmoving bodies A*1, A*2, A*3 ... all moving uniformly with velocities\n_v_*1, _v_*2, _v_*3 ... which are arranged, e.g., in an ascending scale\nand which correspond to all possible magnitudes. Let us then consider\non the path of the moving body _A_ two points M' and M\", situated on\neither side of the point M but very near it. At the same time as this\nmoving body reaches the points M', M, M\", the other moving bodies\nreach points M'*1 M*1 M\"*1, M'*2 M*2 M\"*2 ... on their respective\npaths; and there must be two moving bodies Ah and Ap such that we\nhave on the one hand M' M= M'*h M*h and on the other hand M M\"= M*p\nM\"*p. We shall then agree to say that the velocity of the moving body\nA at the point M lies between _v_*h and _v_*p. But nothing prevents\nour assuming that the points M' and M\" are still nearer the point M,\nand it will then be necessary to replace _v_*h and _v_*p by two fresh\nvelocities _v_*i and _v_*n, the one greater than _v_*h and the other\nless than _v_*p. And in proportion as we reduce the two intervals M'M\nand MM\", we shall lessen the difference between the velocities of the\nuniform corresponding movements. Now, the two intervals being capable\nof decreasing right down to zero, there evidently exists between _v_*i\nand _v_*n a certain velocity _v_*m, such that the difference between\nthis velocity and _v_*h, _v_*i ... on the one hand, and _v_*p, _v_*n ...\non the other, can become smaller than any given quantity. It is this\ncommon limit _v_*m which we shall call the velocity of the moving body\nA at the point M.--Now, in this analysis of variable motion, as in\nthat of uniform motion, it is a question only of spaces once traversed\nand of simultaneous positions once reached. We were thus justified in\nsaying that, while all that mechanics retains of time is simultaneity,\nall that it retains of motion itself--restricted, as it is, to a\n_measurement_ of motion--is immobility.\n\n[Characters preceded by '*' are in \"subscript\" in original.]\n\n[Sidenote: Mechanics deals with equations, which express something\nfinished, and not processes, such as duration and motion.]\n\nThis result might have been foreseen by noticing that mechanics\nnecessarily deals with equations, and that an algebraic equation always\nexpresses something already done. Now, it is of the very essence\nof duration and motion, as they appear to our consciousness, to be\nsomething that is unceasingly being done; thus algebra can represent\nthe results gained at a certain moment of duration and the positions\noccupied by a certain moving body in space, but not duration and\nmotion themselves. Mathematics may, indeed, increase the number of\nsimultaneities and positions which it takes into consideration by\nmaking the intervals very small: it may even, by using the differential\ninstead of the difference, show that it is possible to increase without\nlimit the number of these intervals of duration. Nevertheless, however\nsmall the interval is supposed to be, it is the extremity of the\ninterval at which mathematics always places itself. As for the interval\nitself, as for the duration and the motion, they are necessarily left\nout of the equation. The reason is that duration and motion are mental\nsyntheses, and not objects; that, although the moving body occupies,\none after the other, points on a line, motion itself has nothing to\ndo with a line; and finally that, although the positions occupied by\nthe moving body vary with the different moments of duration, though it\neven creates distinct moments by the mere fact of occupying different\npositions, duration properly so called has no moments which are\nidentical or external to one another, being essentially heterogeneous,\ncontinuous, and with no analogy to number.\n\n[Sidenote: Conclusion: space alone is homogeneous: duration and\nsuccession belong not to the external world, but to the conscious mind.]\n\nIt follows from this analysis that space alone is homogeneous, that\nobjects in space form a discrete multiplicity, and that every discrete\nmultiplicity is got by a process of unfolding in space. It also follows\nthat there is neither duration nor even succession in space, if we\ngive to these words the meaning in which consciousness takes them:\neach of the so-called successive states of the external world exists\nalone; their multiplicity is real only for a consciousness that can\nfirst retain them and then set them side by side by externalizing\nthem in relation to one another. If it retains them, it is because\nthese distinct states of the external world give rise to states of\nconsciousness which permeate one another, imperceptibly organize\nthemselves into a whole, and bind the past to the present by this\nvery process of connexion. If it externalizes them in relation to one\nanother, the reason is that, thinking of their radical distinctness\n(the one having ceased to be when the other appears on the scene), it\nperceives them under the form of a discrete multiplicity, which amounts\nto setting them out in line, in the space in which each of them existed\nseparately. The space employed for this purpose is just that which is\ncalled homogeneous time.\n\n[Sidenote: Two kinds of multiplicity: two senses of the word\n\"distinguish,\" the one qualitative and the other quantitative.]\n\nBut another conclusion results from this analysis, namely, that\nthe multiplicity of conscious states, regarded in its original\npurity, is not at all like the discrete multiplicity which goes to\nform a number. In such a case there is, as we said, a qualitative\nmultiplicity. In short, we must admit two kinds of multiplicity, two\npossible senses of the word \"distinguish,\" two conceptions, the one\nqualitative and the other quantitative, of the difference between\n_same_ and _other._ Sometimes this multiplicity, this distinctness,\nthis heterogeneity contains number only potentially, as Aristotle would\nhave said. Consciousness, then, makes a qualitative discrimination\nwithout any further thought of counting the qualities or even of\ndistinguishing them as _several._ In such a case we have multiplicity\nwithout quantity. Sometimes, on the other hand, it is a question of\na multiplicity of terms which are counted or which are conceived as\ncapable of being counted; but we think then of the possibility of\nexternalizing them in relation to one another, we set them out in\nspace. Unfortunately, we are so accustomed to illustrate one of these\ntwo meanings of the same word by the other, and even to perceive\nthe one in the other, that we find it extraordinarily difficult to\ndistinguish between them or at least to express this distinction in\nwords. Thus I said that several conscious states are organized into a\nwhole, permeate one another, gradually gain a richer content, and might\nthus give any one ignorant of space the feeling of pure duration; but\nthe very use of the word \"several\" shows that I had already isolated\nthese states, externalized them in relation to one another, and, in a\nword, set them side by side; thus, by the very language which I was\ncompelled to use, I betrayed the deeply ingrained habit of setting out\ntime in space. From this spatial setting out, already accomplished, we\nare compelled to borrow the terms which we use to describe the state\nof a mind which has not yet accomplished it: these terms are thus\nmisleading from the very beginning, and the idea of a multiplicity\nwithout relation to number or space, although clear for pure reflective\nthought, cannot be translated into the language of common sense. And\nyet we cannot even form the idea of discrete multiplicity without\nconsidering at the same time a qualitative multiplicity. When we\nexplicitly count units by stringing them along a spatial line, is it\nnot the case that, alongside this addition of identical terms standing\nout from a homogeneous background, an organization of these units is\ngoing on in the depths of the soul, a wholly dynamic process, not\nunlike the purely qualitative way in which an anvil, if it could feel,\nwould realize a series of blows from a hammer? In this sense we might\nalmost say that the numbers in daily use have each their emotional\nequivalent. Tradesmen are well aware of it, and instead of indicating\nthe price of an object by a round number of shillings, they will mark\nthe next smaller number, leaving themselves to insert afterwards a\nsufficient number of pence and farthings. In a word, the process by\nwhich we count units and make them into a discrete multiplicity has\ntwo sides; on the one hand we assume that they are identical, which is\nconceivable only on condition that these units are ranged alongside\neach other in a homogeneous medium; but on the other hand the third\nunit, for example, when added to the other two, alters the nature,\nthe appearance and, as it were, the rhythm of the whole; without this\ninterpenetration and this, so to speak, qualitative progress, no\naddition would be possible. Hence it is through the quality of quantity\nthat we form the idea of quantity without quality.\n\n[Sidenote: Our successive sensations are regarded as mutually external,\nlike their objective causes, and this reacts on our deeper psychic\nlife.]\n\nIt is therefore obvious that, if it did not betake itself to a\nsymbolical substitute, our consciousness our successive would never\nregard time as a homogeneous medium, in which the terms of a succession\nremain outside one another. But we naturally reach this symbolical\nrepresentation by the mere fact that, in a series of identical terms,\neach term assumes a double aspect for our consciousness: one aspect\nwhich is the same for all of them, since we are thinking then of\nthe sameness of the external object, and another aspect which is\ncharacteristic of each of them, because the supervening of each term\nbrings about a new organization of the whole. Hence the possibility of\nsetting out in space, under the form of numerical multiplicity, what\nwe have called a qualitative multiplicity, and of regarding the one\nas the equivalent of the other. Now, this twofold process is nowhere\naccomplished so easily as in the perception of the external phenomenon\nwhich takes for us the form of motion. Here we certainly have a series\nof identical terms, since it is always the same moving body; but, on\nthe other hand, the synthesis carried out by our consciousness between\nthe actual position and what our memory calls the former positions,\ncauses these images to permeate, complete, and, so to speak, continue\none another. Hence, it is principally by the help of motion that\nduration assumes the form of a homogeneous medium, and that time is\nprojected into space. But, even if we leave out motion, any repetition\nof a well-marked external phenomenon would suggest to consciousness\nthe same mode of representation. Thus, when we hear a series of\nblows of a hammer, the sounds form an indivisible melody in so far\nas they are pure sensations, and, here again, give rise to a dynamic\nprogress; but, knowing that the same objective cause is at work, we\ncut up this progress into phases which we then regard as identical;\nand this multiplicity of elements no longer being conceivable except\nby being set out in space, since they have now become identical, we\nare necessarily led to the idea of a homogeneous time, the symbolical\nimage of real duration. In a word, our ego comes in contact with the\nexternal world at its surface; our successive sensations, although\ndissolving into one another, retain something of the mutual externality\nwhich belongs to their objective causes; and thus our superficial\npsychic life comes to be pictured without any great effort as set\nout in a homogeneous medium. But the symbolical character of such a\npicture becomes more striking as we advance further into the depths of\nconsciousness: the deep-seated self which ponders and decides, which\nheats and blazes up, is a self whose states and changes permeate one\nanother and undergo a deep alteration as soon as we separate them from\none another in order to set them out in space. But as this deeper\nself forms one and the same person with the superficial ego, the two\nseem to _endure_ in the same way. And as the repeated picture of one\nidentical objective phenomenon, ever recurring, cuts up our superficial\npsychic life into parts external to one another, the moments which\nare thus determined determine in their turn distinct segments in\nthe dynamic and undivided progress of our more personal conscious\nstates. Thus the mutual externality which material objects gain from\ntheir juxtaposition in homogeneous space reverberates and spreads\ninto the depths of consciousness: little by little our sensations are\ndistinguished from one another like the external causes which gave\nrise to them, and our feelings or ideas come to be separated like the\nsensations with which they are contemporaneous.\n\n[Sidenote: Eliminate the superficial psychic states, and we no longer\nperceive a homogeneous time or measure duration, but feel it as a\nquality.]\n\nThat our ordinary conception of duration depends on a gradual incursion\nof space into the domain of pure consciousness is proved by the fact\nthat, in order to deprive the ego of the faculty of perceiving a\nhomogeneous time, it is enough to take away from it this outer circle\nof psychic states which it uses as a balance-wheel. These conditions\nare realized when we dream; for sleep, by relaxing the play of the\norganic functions, alters the communicating surface between the ego\nand external objects. Here we no longer measure duration, but we\nfeel it; from quantity it returns to the state of quality; we no\nlonger estimate past time mathematically: the mathematical estimate\ngives place to a confused instinct, capable, like all instincts, of\ncommitting gross errors, but also of acting at times with extraordinary\nskill. Even in the waking state, daily experience ought to teach us\nto distinguish between duration as quality, that which consciousness\nreaches immediately and which is probably what animals perceive, and\ntime so to speak materialized, time that has become quantity by being\nset out in space. Whilst I am writing these lines, the hour strikes\non a neighbouring clock, but my inattentive ear does not perceive it\nuntil several strokes have made themselves heard. Hence I have not\ncounted them; and yet I only have to turn my attention backwards to\ncount up the four strokes which have already sounded and add them to\nthose which I hear. If, then, I question myself carefully on what has\njust taken place, I perceive that the first four sounds had struck\nmy ear and even affected my consciousness, but that the sensations\nproduced by each one of them, instead of being set side by side, had\nmelted into one another in such a way as to give the whole a peculiar\nquality, to make a kind of musical phrase out of it. In order, then,\nto estimate retrospectively the number of strokes sounded, I tried to\nreconstruct this phrase in thought: my imagination made one stroke,\nthen two, then three, and as long as it did not reach the exact number\nfour, my feeling, when consulted, answered that the total effect was\nqualitatively different. It had thus ascertained in its own way the\nsuccession of four strokes, but quite otherwise than by a process\nof addition, and without bringing in the image of a juxtaposition of\ndistinct terms. In a word, the number of strokes was perceived as a\nquality and not as a quantity: it is thus that duration is presented to\nimmediate consciousness, and it retains this form so long as it does\nnot give place to a symbolical representation derived from extensity.\n\n[Sidenote: There are therefore two forms of multiplicity, of duration\nand conscious life.]\n\nWe should therefore distinguish two forms of multiplicity, two very\ndifferent ways of regarding duration, two aspects of conscious life.\nBelow homogeneous duration, which is the extensive symbol of true\nduration, a close psychological analysis distinguishes a duration\nwhose heterogeneous moments permeate one another; below the numerical\nmultiplicity of conscious states, a qualitative multiplicity; below\nthe self with well-defined states, a self in which _succeeding each\nother_ means _melting into one another_ and forming an organic whole.\nBut we are generally content with the first, i.e. with the shadow of\nthe self projected into homogeneous space. Consciousness, goaded by an\ninsatiable desire to separate, substitutes the symbol for the reality,\nor perceives the reality only through the symbol. As the self thus\nrefracted, and thereby broken to pieces, is much better adapted to the\nrequirements of social life in general and language in particular,\nconsciousness prefers it, and gradually loses sight of the fundamental\nself.\n\n[Sidenote: The two aspects of our conscious states.]\n\nIn order to recover this fundamental self, as the unsophisticated\nconsciousness would perceive it, a vigorous effort of analysis is\nnecessary, which will isolate the fluid inner states from their image,\nfirst refracted, then solidified in homogeneous space. In other words,\nour perceptions, sensations, emotions and ideas occur under two\naspects: the one clear and precise, but impersonal; the other confused,\never changing, and inexpressible, because language cannot get hold\nof it without arresting its mobility or fit it into its common-place\nforms without making it into public property. If we have been led to\ndistinguish two forms of multiplicity, two forms of duration, we must\nexpect each conscious state, taken by itself, to assume a different\naspect according as we consider it within a discrete multiplicity or a\nconfused multiplicity, in the time as quality, in which it is produced,\nor in the time as quantity, into which it is projected.\n\n[Sidenote: One of which is due to the solidifying influence of external\nobjects and language on our constantly changing feelings.]\n\nWhen e.g. I take my first walk in a town in which I am going to live,\nmy environment produces on me two impressions at the same time, one\nof which is destined to last while the other will constantly change.\nEvery day I perceive the same houses, and as I know that they are the\nsame objects, I always call them by the same name and I also fancy\nthat they always look the same to me. But if I recur, at the end of a\nsufficiently long period, to the impression which I experienced during\nthe first few years, I am surprised at the remarkable, inexplicable,\nand indeed inexpressible change which has taken place. It seems that\nthese objects, continually perceived by me and constantly impressing\nthemselves on my mind, have ended by borrowing from me something of my\nown conscious existence; like myself they have lived, and like myself\nthey have grown old. This is not a mere illusion; for if to-day's\nimpression were absolutely identical with that of yesterday, what\ndifference would there be between perceiving and recognizing, between\nlearning and remembering? Yet this difference escapes the attention of\nmost of us; we shall hardly perceive it, unless we are warned of it and\nthen carefully look into ourselves. The reason is that our outer and,\nso to speak, social life is more practically important to us than our\ninner and individual existence. We instinctively tend to solidify our\nimpressions in order to express them in language. Hence we confuse the\nfeeling itself, which is in a perpetual state of becoming, with its\npermanent external object, and especially with the word which expresses\nthis object. In the same way as the fleeting duration of our ego is\nfixed by its projection in homogeneous space, our constantly changing\nimpressions, wrapping themselves round the external object which is\ntheir cause, take on its definite outlines and its immobility.\n\n[Sidenote: How language gives a fixed form to fleeting sensations.]\n\nOur simple sensations, taken in their natural state, are still more\nfleeting. Such and such a flavour, such and such a scent, pleased me\nwhen I was a child though I dislike them to-day. Yet I still give the\nsame name to the sensation experienced, and I speak as if only my\ntaste had changed, whilst the scent and the flavour have remained the\nsame. Thus I again solidify the sensation; and when its changeableness\nbecomes so obvious that I cannot help recognizing it, I abstract\nthis changeableness to give it a name of its own and solidify it in\nthe shape of a _taste._ But in reality there are neither identical\nsensations nor multiple tastes: for sensations and tastes seem to me\nto be _objects_ as soon as I isolate and name them, and in the human\nsoul there are only _processes._ What I ought to say is that every\nsensation is altered by repetition, and that if it does not seem to\nme to change from day to day, it is because I perceive it through the\nobject which is its cause, through the word which translates it. This\ninfluence of language on sensation is deeper than is usually thought.\nNot only does language make us believe in the unchangeableness of our\nsensations, but it will sometimes deceive us as to the nature of the\nsensation felt. Thus, when I partake of a dish that is supposed to be\nexquisite, the name which it bears, suggestive of the approval given to\nit, comes between my sensation and my consciousness; I may believe that\nthe flavour pleases me when a slight effort of attention would prove\nthe contrary, In short, the word with well-defined outlines, the rough\nand ready word, which stores up the stable, common, and consequently\nimpersonal element in the impressions of mankind, overwhelms or\nat least covers over the delicate and fugitive impressions of our\nindividual consciousness. To maintain the struggle on equal terms,\nthe latter ought to express themselves in precise words; but these\nwords, as soon as they were formed, would turn against the sensation\nwhich gave birth to them, and, invented to show that the sensation is\nunstable, they would impose on it their own stability.\n\n[Sidenote: How analysis and description distort the feelings.]\n\nThis overwhelming of the immediate consciousness is nowhere so striking\nas in the case of our feelings. A violent love or a deep melancholy\ntakes possession of our SOUL: here we feel a thousand different\nelements which dissolve into and permeate one another without any\nprecise outlines, without the least tendency to externalize themselves\nin relation to one another; hence their originality. We distort them\nas soon as we distinguish a numerical multiplicity in their confused\nmass: what will it be, then, when we set them out, isolated from one\nanother, in this homogeneous medium which may be called either time or\nspace, whichever you prefer? A moment ago each of them was borrowing an\nindefinable colour from its surroundings: now we have it colourless,\nand ready to accept a name. The feeling itself is a being which\nlives and develops and is therefore constantly changing; otherwise\nhow could it gradually lead us to form a resolution? Our resolution\nwould be immediately taken. But it lives because the duration in\nwhich it develops is a duration whose moments permeate one another.\nBy separating these moments from each other, by spreading out time in\nspace, we have caused this feeling to lose its life and its colour.\nHence, we are now standing before our own shadow: we believe that\nwe have analysed our feeling, while we have really replaced it by a\njuxtaposition of lifeless states which can be translated into words,\nand each of which constitutes the common element, the impersonal\nresidue, of the impressions felt in a given case by the whole of\nsociety. And this is why we reason about these states and apply our\nsimple logic to them: having set them up as genera by the mere fact\nof having isolated them from one another, we have prepared them for\nuse in some future deduction. Now, if some bold novelist, tearing\naside the cleverly woven curtain of our conventional ego, shows us\nunder this appearance of logic a fundamental absurdity, under this\njuxtaposition of simple states an infinite permeation of a thousand\ndifferent impressions which have already ceased to exist the instant\nthey are named, we commend him for having known us better than we\nknew ourselves. This is not the case, however, and the very fact that\nhe spreads out our feeling in a homogeneous time, and expresses its\nelements by words, shows that he in his turn is only offering us its\nshadow: but he has arranged this shadow in such a way as to make us\nsuspect the extraordinary and illogical nature of the object which\nprojects it; he has made us reflect by giving outward expression to\nsomething of that contradiction, that interpenetration, which is the\nvery essence of the elements expressed. Encouraged by him, we have\nput aside for an instant the veil which we interposed between our\nconsciousness and ourselves. He has brought us back into our own\npresence.\n\n[Sidenote: On the surface our conscious states obey the laws of\nassociation. Deeper down they interpenetrate and form a part of\nourselves.]\n\nWe should experience the same sort of surprise if we strove to seize\nour ideas themselves in their natural state, as our consciousness would\nperceive them if it were no longer beset by space. This breaking up\nof the constituent elements of an idea, which issues in abstraction,\nis too convenient for us to do without it in ordinary life and even\nin philosophical discussion. But when we fancy that the parts thus\nartificially separated are the genuine threads with which the concrete\nidea was woven, when, substituting for the interpenetration of the real\nterms the juxtaposition of their symbols, we claim to make duration\nout of space, we unavoidably fall into the mistakes of associationism.\nWe shall not insist on the latter point, which will be the subject of\na thorough examination in the next chapter. Let it be enough to say\nthat the impulsive zeal with which we take sides on certain questions\nshows how our intellect has its instincts--and what can an instinct\nof this kind be if not an impetus common to all our ideas, i.e. their\nvery interpenetration? The beliefs to which we most strongly adhere are\nthose of which we should find it most difficult to give an account, and\nthe reasons by which we justify them are seldom those which have led\nus to adopt them. In a certain sense we have adopted them without any\nreason, for what makes them valuable in our eyes is that they match the\ncolour of all our other ideas, and that from the very first we have\nseen in them something of ourselves. Hence they do not take in our\nminds that common looking form which they will assume as soon as we try\nto give expression to them in words; and, although they bear the same\nname in other minds, they are by no means the same thing. The fact is\nthat each of them has the same kind of life as a cell in an organism:\neverything which affects the general state of the self affects it also.\nBut while the cell occupies a definite point in the organism, an idea\nwhich is truly ours fills the whole of our self. Not all our ideas,\nhowever, are thus incorporated in the fluid mass of our conscious\nstates. Many float on the surface, like dead leaves on the water of a\npond: the mind, when it thinks them over and over again, finds them\never the same, as if they were external to it. Among these are the\nideas which we receive ready made, and which remain in us without ever\nbeing properly assimilated, or again the ideas which we have omitted\nto cherish and which have withered in neglect. If, in proportion as we\nget away from the deeper strata of the self, our conscious states tend\nmore and more to assume the form of a numerical multiplicity, and to\nspread out in a homogeneous space, it is just because these conscious\nstates tend to become more and more lifeless, more and more impersonal.\nHence we need not be surprised if only those ideas which least belong\nto us can be adequately expressed in words: only to these, as we shall\nsee, does the associationist theory apply. External to one another,\nthey keep up relations among themselves in which the inmost nature\nof each of them counts for nothing, relations which can therefore be\nclassified. It may thus be said that they are associated by contiguity\nor for some logical reason. But if, digging below the surface of\ncontact between the self and external objects, we penetrate into the\ndepths of the organized and living intelligence, we shall witness the\njoining together or rather the blending of many ideas which, when once\ndissociated, seem to exclude one another as logically contradictory\nterms. The strangest dreams, in which two images overlie one another\nand show us at the same time two different persons, who yet make only\none, will hardly give us an idea of the interweaving of concepts which\ngoes on when we are awake. The imagination of the dreamer, cut off from\nthe external world, imitates with mere images, and parodies in its own\nway, the process which constantly goes on with regard to ideas in the\ndeeper regions of the intellectual life.\n\n\n[Sidenote: By separating our conscious states we promote social life,\nbut raise problems soluble only by recourse to the concrete and living\nself.]\n\nThus may be verified, thus, too, will be illustrated by a further\nstudy of deep-seated psychic phenomena the principle from which we\nstarted: conscious life displays two aspects according as we perceive\nit directly or by refraction through space. Considered in themselves,\nthe deep-seated conscious states have no relation to quantity, they\nare pure quality; they intermingle in such a way that we cannot tell\nwhether they are one or several, nor even examine them from this\npoint of view without at once altering their nature. The duration\nwhich they thus create is a duration whose moments do not constitute\na numerical multiplicity: to characterize these moments by saying\nthat they encroach on one another would still be to distinguish them.\nIf each of us lived a purely individual life, if there were neither\nsociety nor language, would our consciousness grasp the series of inner\nstates in this unbroken form? Undoubtedly it would not quite succeed,\nbecause we should still retain the idea of a homogeneous space in\nwhich objects are sharply distinguished from one another, and because\nit is too convenient to set out in such a medium the somewhat cloudy\nstates which first attract the attention of consciousness, in order\nto resolve them into simpler terms. But mark that the intuition of\na homogeneous space is already a step towards social life. Probably\nanimals do not picture to themselves, beside their sensations, as we\ndo, an external world quite distinct from themselves, which is the\ncommon property of all conscious beings. Our tendency to form a clear\npicture of this externality of things and the homogeneity of their\nmedium is the same as the impulse which leads us to live in common\nand to speak. But, in proportion as the conditions of social life are\nmore completely realized, the current which carries our conscious\nstates from within outwards is strengthened; little by little these\nstates are made into objects or things; they break off not only from\none another, but from ourselves. Henceforth we no longer perceive them\nexcept in the homogeneous medium in which we have set their image,\nand through the word which lends them its common-place colour. Thus a\nsecond self is formed which obscures the first, a self whose existence\nis made up of distinct moments, whose states are separated from one\nanother and easily expressed in words. I do not mean, here, to split\nup the personality, nor to bring back in another form the numerical\nmultiplicity which I shut out at the beginning. It is the same self\nwhich perceives distinct states at first, and which, by afterwards\nconcentrating its attention, will see these states melt into one\nanother like the crystals of a snow-flake when touched for some time\nwith the finger. And, in truth, for the sake of language, the self has\neverything to gain by not bringing back confusion where order reigns,\nand in not upsetting this ingenious arrangement of almost impersonal\nstates by which it has ceased to form \"a kingdom within a kingdom.\"\nAn inner life with well distinguished moments and with clearly\ncharacterized states will answer better the requirements of social\nlife. Indeed, a superficial psychology may be content with describing\nit without thereby falling into error, on condition, however, that\nit restricts itself to the study of what has taken place and leaves\nout what is going on. But if, passing from statics to dynamics, this\npsychology claims to reason about things in the making as it reasoned\nabout things made, if it offers us the concrete and living self as an\nassociation of terms which are distinct from one another and are set\nside by side in a homogeneous medium, it will see difficulty after\ndifficulty rising in its path. And these difficulties will multiply\nthe greater the efforts it makes to overcome them, for all its efforts\nwill only bring into clearer light the absurdity of the fundamental\nhypothesis by which it spreads out time in space and puts succession at\nthe very centre of simultaneity. We shall see that the contradictions\nimplied in the problems of causality, freedom, personality, spring from\nno other source, and that, if we wish to get rid of them, we have only\nto go back to the real and concrete self and give up its symbolical\nsubstitute.\n\n\n[1] I had already completed the present work when I read in the\n_Critique philosophique_(for 1883 and 1884) F. Pillon's very remarkable\nrefutation of an interesting article by G. No\u00ebl on the interconnexion\nof the notions of number and space. But I have not found it necessary\nto make any alterations in the following pages, seeing that Pillon does\nnot distinguish between time as quality and time as quantity, between\nthe multiplicity of juxtaposition and that of interpenetration. Without\nthis vital distinction, which it is the chief aim of the present\nchapter to establish, it would be possible to maintain, with Pillon,\nthat number may be built up from the relation of co-existence. But what\nis here meant by co-existence? If the co-existing terms form an organic\nwhole, they will never lead us to the notion of number; if they remain\ndistinct, they are in juxtaposition and we are dealing with space. It\nis no use to quote the example of simultaneous impressions received\nby several senses. We either leave these sensations their specific\ndifferences, which amounts to saying that we do not count them; or else\nwe eliminate their differences, and then how are we to distinguish\nthem if not by their position or that of their symbols? We shall see\nthat the verb \"to distinguish\" has two meanings, the one qualitative,\nthe other quantitative: these two meanings have been confused, in my\nopinion, by the philosophers who have dealt with the relations between\nnumber and space.\n\n[2] \u00c9vellin, _Infini et quantit\u00e9._ Paris, 1881.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nTHE ORGANIZATION OF CONSCIOUS STATES\n\nFREE WILL\n\n\n\n[Sidenote: Mechanism, dynamism and free will.]\n\nIt is easy to see why the question of free will brings into conflict\nthese two rival systems of nature, mechanism and dynamism. Dynamism\nstarts from the idea of voluntary activity, given by consciousness,\nand comes to represent inertia by gradually emptying this idea: it has\nthus no difficulty in conceiving free force on the one hand and matter\ngoverned by laws on the other. Mechanism follows the opposite course.\nIt assumes that the materials which it synthesizes are governed by\nnecessary laws, and although it reaches richer and richer combinations,\nwhich are more and more difficult to foresee, and to all appearance\nmore and more contingent, yet it never gets out of the narrow circle of\nnecessity within which it at first shut itself up.\n\n[Sidenote: For dynamism facts more real than laws: mechanism reverses\nthis attitude. This idea of spontaneity simpler than that of inertia.]\n\nA thorough examination of these two conceptions of nature will show\nthat they involve two very different hypotheses as to the relations\nbetween laws and the facts which they govern. As he looks higher and\nhigher, the believer in dynamism thinks that he perceives facts which\nmore and more elude the grasp of laws: he thus sets up the fact as the\nabsolute reality, and the law as the more or less symbolical expression\nof this reality. Mechanism, on the contrary, discovers within the\nparticular fact a certain number of laws of which the fact is thus made\nto be the meeting point, and nothing else: on this hypothesis it is the\nlaw which becomes the genuine reality. Now, if it is asked why the one\nparty assigns a higher reality to the fact and the other to the law, it\nwill be found that mechanism and dynamism take the word _simplicity_ in\ntwo very different senses. For the first, any principle is simple of\nwhich the effects can be foreseen and even calculated: thus, by the\nvery definition, the notion of inertia becomes simpler than that of\nfreedom, the homogeneous simpler than the heterogeneous, the abstract\nsimpler than the concrete. But dynamism is not anxious so much to\narrange the notions in the most convenient order as to find out their\nreal relationship: often, in fact, the so-called simple notion--that\nwhich the believer in mechanism regards as primitive--has been obtained\nby the blending together of several richer notions which seem to be\nderived from it, and which have more or less neutralized one another\nin this very process of blending, just as darkness may be produced by\nthe interference of two lights. Regarded from this new point of view,\nthe idea of spontaneity is indisputably simpler than that of inertia,\nsince the second can be understood and defined only by means of the\nfirst, while the first is self-sufficient. For each of us has the\nimmediate knowledge (be it thought true or fallacious) of his free\nspontaneity, without the notion of inertia having anything to do with\nthis knowledge. But, if we wish to define the inertia of matter, we\nmust say that it cannot move or stop of its own accord, that every body\nperseveres in the state of rest or motion so long as it is not acted\nupon by any force: and in both cases we are unavoidably carried back\nto the idea of activity. It is therefore natural that, _a priori,_ we\nshould reach two opposite conceptions of human activity, according to\nthe way in which we understand the relation between the concrete and\nthe abstract, the simple and the complex, facts and laws.\n\n[Sidenote: Determinism: (1) physical (2) psychological. Former\nreducible to latter, which itself rests on inaccurate conception of\nmultiplicity of conscious states or duration.]\n\n_A posteriori,_ however, definite facts are appealed to against\nfreedom, some physical, others psychological. Sometimes it is asserted\nthat our actions are necessitated by our feelings, our ideas, and the\nwhole preceding series of our conscious states; sometimes freedom\nis denounced as being incompatible with the fundamental properties\nof matter, and in particular with the principle of the conservation\nof energy. Hence two kinds of determinism, two apparently different\nempirical proofs of universal necessity. We shall show that the second\nof these two forms is reducible to the first, and that all determinism,\neven physical determinism, involves a psychological hypothesis: we\nshall then prove that psychological determinism itself, and the\nrefutations which are given of it, rest on an inaccurate conception of\nthe multiplicity of conscious states, or rather of duration. Thus, in\nthe light of the principles worked out in the foregoing chapter, we\nshall see a self emerge whose activity cannot be compared to that of\nany other force.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Physical determinism stated in the language of the molecular\ntheory of matter.]\n\nPhysical determinism, in its latest form, is closely bound up with\nmechanical or rather kinetic theories of matter. The universe is\npictured as a heap of matter which the imagination resolves into\nmolecules and atoms. These particles are supposed to carry out\nunceasingly movements of every kind, sometimes of vibration, sometimes\nof translation; and physical phenomena, chemical action, the qualities\nof matter which our senses perceive, heat, sound, electricity, perhaps\neven attraction, are thought to be reducible objectively to these\nelementary movements. The matter which goes to make up organized\nbodies being subject to the same laws, we find in the nervous system,\nfor example, only molecules and atoms which are in motion and attract\nand repel one another. Now if all bodies, organized or unorganized,\nthus act and react on one another in their ultimate parts, it is\nobvious that the molecular state of the brain at a given moment will\nbe modified by the shocks which the nervous system receives from the\nsurrounding matter, so that the sensations, feelings and ideas which\nsucceed one another in us can be defined as mechanical resultants,\nobtained by the compounding of shocks received from without with the\nprevious movements of the atoms of the nervous substance. But the\nopposite phenomenon may occur; and the molecular movements which go\non in the nervous system, if compounded with one another or with\nothers, will often give as resultant a reaction of our organism on its\nenvironment: hence the reflex movements, hence also the so-called free\nand voluntary actions. As, moreover, the principle of the conservation\nof energy has been assumed to admit of no exception, there is not an\natom, either in the nervous system or in the whole of the universe,\nwhose position is not determined by the sum of the mechanical actions\nwhich the other atoms exert upon it. And the mathematician who knew\nthe position of the molecules or atoms of a human organism at a given\nmoment, as well as the position and motion of all the atoms in the\nuniverse capable of influencing it, could calculate with unfailing\ncertainty the past, present and future actions of the person to\nwhom this organism belongs, just as one predicts an astronomical\nphenomenon.[1]\n\n[Sidenote: If principle of conservation of energy is universal,\nphysiological and nervous phenomena are necessitated, but perhaps not\nconscious states.]\n\nWe shall not raise any difficulty about recognizing that this\nconception of physiological phenomena in general, and nervous\nphenomena in particular, is a very natural deduction from the law of\nthe conservation of energy. Certainly, the atomic theory of matter is\nstill at the hypothetical stage, and the purely kinetic explanations\nof physical facts lose more than they gain by being too closely bound\nup with it. We must observe, however, that, even if we leave aside the\natomic theory as well as any other hypothesis as to the nature of the\nultimate elements of matter, the necessitating of physiological facts\nby their antecedents follows from the theorem of the conservation of\nenergy, as soon as we extend this theorem to all processes going on in\nall living bodies. For to admit the universality of this theorem is\nto assume, at bottom, that the material points of which the universe\nis composed are subject solely to forces of attraction and repulsion,\narising from these points themselves and possessing intensities which\ndepend only on their distances: hence the relative position of these\nmaterial points at a given moment--whatever be their nature--would\nbe strictly determined by relation to what it was at the preceding\nmoment. Let us then assume for a moment that this last hypothesis is\ntrue: we propose to show, in the first place, that it does not involve\nthe absolute determination of our conscious states by one another, and\nthen that the very universality of the principle of the conservation\nof energy cannot be admitted except in virtue of some psychological\nhypothesis.\n\nSidenote: To prove conscious states determined, we should have to show\na necessary connexion between them and cerebral states. No such proof.\n\nEven if we assumed that the position, the direction and the velocity of\neach atom of cerebral matter are determined at every moment of time, it\nwould not at all follow that our psychic life is subject to the same\nnecessity. For we should first have to prove that a strictly determined\npsychic state corresponds to a definite cerebral state, and the proof\nof this is still to be given. As a rule we do not think of demanding\nit, because we know that a definite vibration of the tympanum, a\ndefinite stimulation of the auditory nerve, gives a definite note on\nthe scale, and because the parallelism of the physical and psychical\nseries has been proved in a fairly large number of cases. But then,\nnobody has ever contended that we were free, under given conditions, to\nhear any note or perceive any colour we liked. Sensations of this kind,\nlike many other psychic states, are obviously bound up with certain\ndetermining conditions, and it is just for this reason that it has been\npossible to imagine or discover beneath them a system of movements\nwhich obey our abstract mechanics. In short, wherever we succeed in\ngiving a mechanical explanation, we observe a fairly strict parallelism\nbetween the physiological and the psychological series, and we need not\nbe surprised at it, since explanations of this kind will assuredly not\nbe met with except where the two series exhibit parallel terms. But\nto extend this parallelism to the series themselves in their totality\nis to settle _a priori_ the problem of freedom. Certainly this may be\ndone, and some of the greatest thinkers have set the example; but then,\nas we said at first, it was not for reasons of a physical order that\nthey asserted the strict correspondence between states of consciousness\nand modes of extension. Leibniz ascribed it to a preestablished\nharmony, and would never have admitted that a motion could give rise\nto a perception as a cause produces an effect. Spinoza said that the\nmodes of thought and the modes of extension correspond with but never\ninfluence one another: they only express in two different languages the\nsame eternal truth. But the theories of physical determinism which are\nrife at the present day are far from displaying the same clearness,\nthe same geometrical rigour. They point to molecular movements taking\nplace in the brain: consciousness is supposed to arise out of these\nat times in some mysterious way, or rather to follow their track like\nthe phosphorescent line which results from the rubbing of a match. Or\nyet again we are to think of an invisible musician playing behind the\nscenes while the actor strikes a keyboard the notes of which yield no\nsound: consciousness must be supposed to come from an unknown region\nand to be superimposed on the molecular vibrations, just as the melody\nis on the rhythmical movements of the actor. But, whatever image\nwe fall back upon, we do not prove and we never shall prove by any\nreasoning that the psychic fact is fatally determined by the molecular\nmovement. For in a movement we may find the reason of another movement,\nbut not the reason of a conscious state: only observation can prove\nthat the latter accompanies the former. Now the unvarying conjunction\nof the two terms has not been verified by experience except in a very\nlimited number of cases and with regard to facts which all confess to\nbe almost independent of the will. But it is easy to understand why\nphysical determinism extends this conjunction to all possible cases.\n\n[Sidenote: Physical determinism, when assumed to be universal,\npostulates psychological determinism.]\n\nConsciousness indeed informs us that the majority of our actions can\nbe explained by motives. But it does not appear that determination\nhere means necessity, since common sense believes in free will. The\ndeterminist, however, led astray by a conception of duration and\ncausality which we shall criticise a little later, holds that the\ndetermination of conscious states by one another is absolute. This is\nthe origin of associationist determinism, an hypothesis in support of\nwhich the testimony of consciousness is appealed to, but which cannot,\nin the beginning, lay claim to scientific rigour. It seems natural\nthat this, so to speak, approximate determinism, this determinism of\nquality, should seek support from the same mechanism that underlies\nthe phenomena of nature: the latter would thus convey to the former\nits own geometrical character, and the transaction would be to the\nadvantage both of psychological determinism, which would emerge from it\nin a stricter form, and of physical mechanism, which would then spread\nover everything. A fortunate circumstance favours this alliance. The\nsimplest psychic states do in fact occur as accessories to well-defined\nphysical phenomena, and the greater number of sensations seem to be\nbound up with definite molecular movements. This mere beginning of an\nexperimental proof is quite enough for the man who, for psychological\nreasons, is already convinced that our conscious states are the\nnecessary outcome of the circumstances under which they happen.\nHenceforth he no longer hesitates to hold that the drama enacted in the\ntheatre of consciousness is a literal and even slavish translation of\nsome scenes performed by the molecules and atoms of organized matter.\nThe physical determinism which is reached in this way is nothing but\npsychological determinism, seeking to verify itself and fix its own\noutlines by an appeal to the sciences of nature.\n\n[Sidenote: Is the principle of conservation of energy universal valid?]\n\nBut we must own that the amount of freedom which is left to us after\nstrictly complying with the principle of the conservation of energy is\nrather limited. For, even if this law does not exert a necessitating\ninfluence over the course of our ideas, it will at least determine our\nmovements. Our inner life will still depend upon ourselves up to a\ncertain point; but, to an outside observer, there will be nothing to\ndistinguish our activity from absolute automatism. We are thus led to\ninquire whether the very extension of the principle of the conservation\nof energy to all the bodies in nature does not itself involve some\npsychological theory, and whether the scientist who did not possess _a\npriori_ any prejudice against human freedom would think of setting up\nthis principle as a universal law.\n\n[Sidenote: It implies that a system can return to its original state.\nNeglects duration, hence inapplicable to living beings and conscious\nstates.]\n\nWe must not overrate the part played by the principle of the\nconservation of energy in the history of the natural sciences. In its\npresent form it marks a certain phase in the evolution of certain\nsciences; but it has not been the governing factor in this evolution\nand we should be wrong in making it the indispensable postulate of all\nscientific research. Certainly, every mathematical operation which we\ncarry out on a given quantity implies the permanence of this quantity\nthroughout the course of the operation, in whatever way we may split\nit up. In other words, what is given is given, what is not given is\nnot given, and in whatever order we add up the same terms we shall\nget the same result. Science will for ever remain subject to this\nlaw, which is nothing but the law of non-contradiction; but this law\ndoes not involve any special hypothesis as to the nature of what we\nought to take as given, or what will remain constant. No doubt it\ninforms us that something cannot come from nothing; but experience\nalone will tell us which aspects or functions of reality must count for\nsomething, and which for nothing, from the point of view of positive\nscience. In short, in order to foresee the state of a determinate\nsystem at a determinate moment, it is absolutely necessary that\nsomething should persist as a constant quantity throughout a series\nof combinations; but it belongs to experience to decide as to the\nnature of this something, and especially to let us know whether it is\nfound in all possible systems, whether, in other words, all possible\nsystems lend themselves to our calculations. It is not certain that\nall the physicists before Leibniz believed, like Descartes, in the\nconservation of a fixed quantity of motion in the universe: were their\ndiscoveries less valuable on this account or their researches less\nsuccessful? Even when Leibniz had substituted for this principle that\nof the conservation of _vis viva,_ it was not possible to regard the\nlaw as quite general, since it admitted of an obvious exception in the\ncase of the direct impact of two inelastic bodies. Thus science has\ndone for a very long time without a universal conservative principle.\nIn its present form, and since the development of the mechanical theory\nof heat, the principle of the conservation of energy certainly seems\nto apply to the whole range of physico-chemical phenomena. But no one\ncan tell whether the study of physiological phenomena in general, and\nof nervous phenomena in particular, will not reveal to us, besides the\n_vis viva_ or kinetic energy of which Leibniz spoke, and the potential\nenergy which was a later and necessary adjunct, some new kind of energy\nwhich may differ from the other two by rebelling against calculation.\nPhysical science would not thereby lose any of its exactitude or\ngeometrical rigour, as has lately been asserted: only it would be\nrealized that conservative systems are not the only systems possible,\nand even, perhaps, that in the whole of concrete reality each of these\nsystems plays the same part as the chemist's atom in bodies and their\ncombinations. Let us note that the most radical of mechanical theories\nis that which makes consciousness an _epiphenomenon_ which, in given\ncircumstances, may supervene on certain molecular movements. But, if\nmolecular movement can create sensation out of a zero of consciousness,\nwhy should not consciousness in its turn create movement either out of\na zero of kinetic and potential energy, or by making use of this energy\nin its own way? Let us also note that the law of the conservation\nof energy can only be intelligibly applied to a system of which the\npoints, after moving, can return to their former positions. This return\nis at least conceived of as possible, and it is supposed that under\nthese conditions nothing would be changed in the original state of\nthe system as a whole or of its elements. In short, time cannot bite\ninto it; and the instinctive, though vague, belief of mankind in the\nconservation of a fixed quantity of matter, a fixed quantity of energy,\nperhaps has its root in the very fact that inert matter does not seem\nto endure or to preserve any trace of past time. But this is not the\ncase in the realm of life. Here duration certainly seems to act like a\ncause, and the idea of putting things back in their place at the end\nof a certain time involves a kind of absurdity, since such a turning\nbackwards has never been accomplished in the case of a living being.\nBut let us admit that the absurdity is a mere appearance, and that the\nimpossibility for living beings to come back to the past is simply\nowing to the fact that the physico-chemical phenomena which take place\nin living bodies, being infinitely complex, have no chance of ever\noccurring again all at the same time: at least it will be granted to\nus that the hypothesis of a turning backwards is almost meaningless\nin the sphere of conscious states. A sensation, by the mere fact of\nbeing prolonged, is altered to the point of becoming unbearable. The\nsame does not here remain the same, but is reinforced and swollen\nby the whole of its past. In short, while the material point, as\nmechanics understands it, remains in an eternal present, the past\nis a reality perhaps for living bodies, and certainly for conscious\nbeings. While past time is neither a gain nor a loss for a system\nassumed to be conservative, it may be a gain for the living being, and\nit is indisputably one for the conscious being. Such being the case,\nis there not much to be said for the hypothesis of a conscious force\nor free will, which, subject to the action of time and storing up\nduration, may thereby escape the law of the conservation of energy?\n\n[Sidenote: The idea of the universality of conservation depends on\nconfusion between concrete duration and abstract time.]\n\nIn truth, it is not a wish to meet the requirements of positive\nscience, but rather a psychological mistake which has caused this\nabstract principle of mechanics to be set up as a universal law. As\nwe are not accustomed to observe ourselves directly, but perceive\nourselves through forms borrowed from the external world, we are led\nto believe that real duration, the duration lived by consciousness,\nis the same as the duration which glides over the inert atoms without\npenetrating and altering them. Hence it is that we do not see any\nabsurdity in putting things back in their place after a lapse of time,\nin supposing the same motives acting afresh on the same persons, and\nin concluding that these causes would again produce the same effect.\nThat such an hypothesis has no real meaning is what we shall prove\nlater on. For the present let us simply show that, if once we enter\nupon this path, we are of course led to set up the principle of the\nconservation of energy as a universal law. For we have thereby got\nrid of just that difference between the outer and the inner world\nwhich a close examination shows to be the main one: we have identified\ntrue duration with apparent duration. After this it would be absurd\nto consider time, even _our_ time, as a cause of gain or loss, as a\nconcrete reality, or a force in its own way. Thus, while we ought only\nto say (if we kept aloof from all presuppositions concerning free will)\nthat the law of the conservation of energy governs physical phenomena\nand _may,_ one day, be extended to all phenomena if psychological facts\nalso prove favourable to it, we go far beyond this, and, under the\ninfluence of a metaphysical prepossession, we lay down the principle of\nthe conservation of energy as a law which _should_ govern all phenomena\nwhatever, or must be supposed to do so until psychological facts have\nactually spoken against it. Science, properly so called, has therefore\nnothing to do with all this. We are simply confronted with a confusion\nbetween concrete duration and abstract time, two very different things.\nIn a word, the so-called physical determinism is reducible at bottom\nto a psychological determinism, and it is this latter doctrine, as we\nhinted at first, that we have to examine.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Psychological determinism depends on associationist\nconception of mind.]\n\nPsychological determinism, in its latest and most precise shape,\nimplies an associationist conception of mind. The existing state of\nconsciousness is first thought of as necessitated by the preceding\nstates, but it is soon realized that this cannot be a geometrical\nnecessity, such as that which connects a resultant, for example, with\nits components. For between successive conscious states there exists\na difference of quality which will always frustrate any attempt to\ndeduce any one of them _a priori_ from its predecessors. So experience\nis appealed to, with the object of showing that the transition from\none psychic state to another can always be explained by some simple\nreason, the second obeying as it were the call of the first. Experience\nreally does show this: and, as for ourselves, we shall willingly admit\nthat there always is some relation between the existing state of\nconsciousness and any new state to which consciousness passes. But is\nthis relation, which explains the transition, the cause of it?\n\n[Sidenote: The series of associations may be merely an ex post facto\nattempt to account for a new idea.]\n\nMay we here give an account of what we have personally observed? In\nresuming a conversation which had been interrupted for a few moments\nwe have happened to notice that both we ourselves and our friend were\nthinking of some new object at the same time.--The reason is, it\nwill be said, that each has followed up for his own part the natural\ndevelopment of the idea at which the conversation had stopped: the\nsame series of associations has been formed on both sides.--No doubt\nthis interpretation holds good in a fairly large number of cases;\ncareful inquiry, however, has led us to an unexpected result. It is a\nfact that the two speakers do connect the new subject of conversation\nwith the former one: they will even point out the intervening ideas;\nbut, curiously enough, they will not always connect the new idea,\nwhich they have both reached, with the same point of the preceding\nconversation, and the two series of intervening associations may be\nquite different. What are we to conclude from this, if not that this\ncommon idea is due to an unknown cause--perhaps to some physical\ninfluence--and that, in order to justify its emergence, it has called\nforth a series of antecedents which explain it and which seem to be its\ncause, but are really its effect?\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from hypnotic suggestion.]\n\nWhen a patient carries out at the appointed time the suggestion\nreceived in the hypnotic state, the act which he performs is brought\nabout, according to him, by the preceding series of his conscious\nstates. Yet these states are really effects, and not causes: it was\nnecessary that the act should take place; it was also necessary that\nthe patient should explain it to himself; and it is the future act\nwhich determined, by a kind of attraction, the whole series of psychic\nstates of which it is to be the natural consequence. The determinists\nwill seize on this argument: it proves as a matter of fact that we are\nsometimes irresistibly subject to another's will. But does it not also\nshow us how our own will is capable of willing for willing's sake, and\nof then leaving the act which has been performed to be explained by\nantecedents of which it has really been the cause?\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from deliberation.]\n\nIf we question ourselves carefully, we shall see that we sometimes\nweigh motives and deliberate over them, when our mind is already\nmade up. An inner voice, hardly perceivable, whispers: \"Why this\ndeliberation? You know the result and you are quite certain of what\nyou are going to do.\" But no matter! it seems that we make a point\nof safe-guarding the principle of mechanism and of conforming to the\nlaws of the association of ideas. The abrupt intervention of the will\nis a kind of _coup d'\u00e9tat_ which our mind foresees and which it tries\nto legitimate beforehand by a formal deliberation. True, it could be\nasked whether the will, even when it wills for willing's sake, does\nnot obey some decisive reason, and whether willing for willing's sake\nis free willing. We shall not insist on this point for the moment.\nIt will be enough for us to have shown that, even when adopting the\npoint of view of associationism, it is difficult to maintain that an\nact is absolutely determined by its motive and our conscious states\nby one another. Beneath these deceptive appearances a more attentive\npsychology sometimes reveals to us effects which precede their causes,\nand phenomena of psychic attraction which elude the known laws of the\nassociation of ideas. But the time has come to ask whether the very\npoint of view which associationism adopts does not involve a defective\nconception of the self and of the multiplicity of conscious states.\n\n[Sidenote: Associationism involves a defective conception of the self.]\n\nAssociationist determinism represents the self as a collection\nof psychic states, the strongest of which exerts a prevailing\ninfluence and carries the others with it. This doctrine thus sharply\ndistinguishes co-existing psychic phenomena from one another. \"I could\nhave abstained from murder,\" says Stuart Mill, \"if my aversion to\nthe crime and my dread of its consequences had been weaker than the\ntemptation which impelled me to commit it.\"[2] And a little further\non: \"His desire to do right and his aversion to doing wrong are\nstrong enough to overcome ... any other desire or aversion which may\nconflict with them.\"[3] Thus desire, aversion, fear, temptation are\nhere presented as distinct things which there is no inconvenience in\nnaming separately. Even when he connects these states with the self\nwhich experiences them, the English philosopher still insists on\nsetting up clear-cut distinctions: \"The conflict is between me and\nmyself; between (for instance) me desiring a pleasure and me dreading\nself-reproach.\"[4] Bain, for his part, devotes a whole chapter to the\n\"Conflict of Motives.\"[5] In it he balances pleasures and pains as so\nmany terms to which one might attribute, at least by abstraction, an\nexistence of their own. Note that the opponents of determinism agree\nto follow it into this field. They too speak of associations of ideas\nand conflicts of motives, and one of the ablest of these philosophers,\nAlfred Fouill\u00e9e, goes so far as to make the idea of freedom itself a\nmotive capable of counterbalancing others.[6] Here, however, lies the\ndanger. Both parties commit themselves to a confusion which arises from\nlanguage, and which is due to the fact that language is not meant to\nconvey all the delicate shades of inner states.\n\n[Sidenote: This erroneous tendency aided by language. Illustration.]\n\nI rise, for example, to open the window, and I have hardly stood up\nbefore I forget what I had to do.--All right, it will be said; you\nhave associated two ideas, that of an end to be attained and that of a\nmovement to be accomplished: one of the ideas has vanished and only the\nidea of the movement remains.--However, I do not sit down again; I have\na confused feeling that something remains to be done. This particular\nstanding still, therefore, is not the same as any other standing still;\nin the position which I take up the act to be performed is as it were\nprefigured, so that I have only to keep this position, to study it,\nor rather to feel it intimately, in order to recover the idea which\nhad vanished for a moment. Hence, this idea must have tinged with a\ncertain particular colouring the mental image of the intended movement\nand the position taken up, and this colouring, without doubt, would\nnot have been the same if the end to be attained had been different.\nNevertheless language would have still expressed the movement and the\nposition in the same way; and associationism would have distinguished\nthe two cases by saying that with the idea of the same movement there\nwas associated this time the idea of a new end: as if the mere newness\nof the end to be attained did not alter in some degree the idea of the\nmovement to be performed, even though the movement itself remained the\nsame! We should thus say, not that the image of a certain position\ncan be connected in consciousness with images of different ends to be\nattained, but rather that positions geometrically identical outside\nlook different to consciousness from the inside, according to the end\ncontemplated. The mistake of associationism is that it first did away\nwith the qualitative element in the act to be performed and retained\nonly the geometrical and impersonal element: with the idea of this\nact, thus rendered colourless, it was then necessary to associate\nsome specific difference to distinguish it from many other acts. But\nthis association is the work of the associationist philosopher who is\nstudying my mind, rather than of my mind itself.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from \"associations\" of smell.]\n\nI smell a rose and immediately confused recollections of childhood come\nback to my memory. In truth, these recollections have not been called\nup by the perfume of the rose: I breathe them in with the very scent;\nit means all that to me. To others it will smell differently.--It is\nalways the same scent, you will say, but associated with different\nideas.--I am quite willing that you should express yourself in this\nway; but do not forget that you have first removed the personal\nelement from the different impressions which the rose makes on each\none of us; you have retained only the objective aspect, that part of\nthe scent of the rose which is public property and thereby belongs\nto space. Only thus was it possible to give a name to the rose and\nits perfume. You then found it necessary, in order to distinguish our\npersonal impressions from one another, to add specific characteristics\nto the general idea of rose-scent. And you now say that our different\nimpressions, our personal impressions, result from the fact that we\nassociate different recollections with rose-scent. But the association\nof which you speak hardly exists except for you, and as a method of\nexplanation. It is in this way that, by setting side by side certain\nletters of an alphabet common to a number of known languages, we may\nimitate fairly well such and such a characteristic sound belonging to a\nnew one; but not with any of these letters, nor with all of them, has\nthe sound itself been built up.\n\n[Sidenote: Associationism fails to distinguish between the multiplicity\nof juxtaposition and that of fusion.]\n\nWe are thus brought back to the distinction which we set up above\nbetween the multiplicity of juxtaposition and that of fusion or\ninterpenetration. Such and such a feeling such and such an idea,\ncontains an indefinite plurality of conscious states: but the plurality\nwill not be observed unless it is, as it were, spread out in this\nhomogeneous medium which some call duration, but which is in reality\nspace. We shall then perceive terms external to one another, and these\nterms will no longer be the states of consciousness themselves, but\ntheir symbols, or, speaking more exactly, the words which express\nthem. There is, as we have pointed out, a close connexion between the\nfaculty of conceiving a homogeneous medium, such as space, and that\nof thinking by means of general ideas. As soon as we try to give an\naccount of a conscious state, to analyse it, this state, which is above\nall personal, will be resolved into impersonal elements external to one\nanother, each of which calls up the idea of a genus and is expressed\nby a word. But because our reason, equipped with the idea of space\nand the power of creating symbols, draws these multiple elements out\nof the whole, it does not follow that they were contained in it. For\nwithin the whole they did not occupy space and did not care to express\nthemselves by means of symbols; they permeated and melted into one\nanother. Associationism thus makes the mistake of constantly replacing\nthe concrete phenomenon which takes place in the mind by the artificial\nreconstruction of it given by philosophy, and of thus confusing the\nexplanation of the fact with the fact itself. We shall perceive this\nmore clearly as we consider deeper and more comprehensive psychic\nstates.\n\n[Sidenote: Failure of associationism to explain the deeper states of\nthe self.]\n\nThe self comes into contact with the external world at its surface;\nand as this surface retains the imprint of objects, the self will\nassociate by contiguity terms which it has perceived in juxtaposition:\nit is connexions of this kind, connexions of quite simple and so to\nspeak impersonal sensations, that the associationist theory fits. But,\njust in proportion as we dig below the surface and get down to the real\nself, do its states of consciousness cease to stand in juxtaposition\nand begin to permeate and melt into one another, and each to be tinged\nwith the colouring of all the others. Thus each of us has his own way\nof loving and hating; and this love or this hatred reflects his whole\npersonality. Language, however, denotes these states by the same words\nin every case: so that it has been able to fix only the objective and\nimpersonal aspect of love, hate, and the thousand emotions which stir\nthe soul. We estimate the talent of a novelist by the power with which\nhe lifts out of the common domain, to which language had thus brought\nthem down, feelings and ideas to which he strives to restore, by adding\ndetail to detail, their original and living individuality. But just as\nwe can go on inserting points between two positions of a moving body\nwithout ever filling up the space traversed, in the same way, by the\nmere fact that we associate states with states and that these states\nare set side by side instead of permeating one another, we fail to\ntranslate completely what our soul experiences: there is no common\nmeasure between mind and language.\n\n[Sidenote: The self is not an aggregate of conscious states. Freedom\nis self-expression, admitting of degrees, and may be curtailed by\neducation.]\n\nTherefore, it is only an inaccurate psychology, misled by language,\nwhich will show us the soul determined by sympathy, aversion, or hate\nas though by so many forces pressing upon it. These feelings, provided\nthat they go deep enough, each make up the whole soul, since the whole\ncontent of the soul is reflected in each of them. To say that the soul\nis determined under the influence of any one of these feelings is thus\nto recognize that it is self-determined. The associationist reduces the\nself to an aggregate of conscious states: sensations, feelings, and\nideas. But if he sees in these various states no more than is expressed\nin their name, if he retains only their impersonal aspect, he may set\nthem side by side for ever without getting anything but a phantom\nself, the shadow of the ego projecting itself into space. If, on the\ncontrary, he takes these psychic states with the particular colouring\nwhich they assume in the case of a definite person, and which comes\nto each of them by reflection from all the others, then there is no\nneed to associate a number of conscious states in order to rebuild the\nperson, for the whole personality is in a single one of them, provided\nthat we know how to choose it. And the outward manifestation of this\ninner state will be just what is called a free act, since the self\nalone will have been the author of it, and since it will express the\nwhole of the self. Freedom, thus understood, is not _absolute,_ as a\nradically libertarian philosophy would have it; it admits of degrees.\nFor it is by no means the case that all conscious states blend with\none another as raindrops with the water of a lake. The self, in so\nfar as it has to do with a homogeneous space, develops on a kind of\nsurface, and on this surface independent growths may form and float.\nThus a suggestion received in the hypnotic state is not incorporated in\nthe mass of conscious states, but, endowed with a life of its own, it\nwill usurp the whole personality when its time comes. A violent anger\nroused by some accidental circumstance, an hereditary vice suddenly\nemerging from the obscure depths of the organism to the surface of\nconsciousness, will act almost like a hypnotic suggestion. Alongside\nthese independent elements there may be found more complex series,\nthe terms of which do permeate one another, but which never succeed\nin blending perfectly with the whole mass of the self. Such is the\nsystem of feelings and ideas which are the result of an education not\nproperly assimilated, an education which appeals to the memory rather\nthan to the judgment. Here will be found, within the fundamental self,\na parasitic self which continually encroaches upon the other. Many\nlive this kind of life, and die without having known true freedom.\nBut suggestion would become persuasion if the entire self assimilated\nit; passion, even sudden passion, would no longer bear the stamp of\nfatality if the whole history of the person were reflected in it, as\nin the indignation of Alceste;[7] and the most authoritative education\nwould not curtail any of our freedom if it only imparted to us ideas\nand feelings capable of impregnating the whole soul. It is the whole\nsoul, in fact, which gives rise to the free decision: and the act will\nbe so much the freer the more the dynamic series with which it is\nconnected tends to be the fundamental self.\n\n[Sidenote: Our every-day acts obey the laws of association. At\ngreat great crises our decisions are really free as expressing the\nfundamental self.]\n\nThus understood, free acts are exceptional, even on the part of those\nwho are most given to controlling and reasoning out what they do.\nIt has been pointed out that we generally perceive our own self by\nrefraction through space, that our conscious states crystallize into\nwords, and that our living and concrete self thus gets covered with\nan outer crust of clean-cut psychic states, which are separated from\none another and consequently fixed. We added that, for the convenience\nof language and the promotion of social relations, we have everything\nto gain by not breaking through this crust and by assuming it to\ngive an exact outline of the form of the object which it covers. It\nshould now be added that our daily actions are called forth not so\nmuch by our feelings themselves, which are constantly changing, as\nby the unchanging images with which these feelings are bound up. In\nthe morning, when the hour strikes at which I am accustomed to rise,\nI might receive this impression \u03c3\u1f7a\u03bd \u1f44\u03bb\u1fc3 \u03c4\u1fc7 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u1fc6, as Plato says; I\nmight let it blend with the confused mass of impressions which fill\nmy mind; perhaps in that case it would not determine me to act. But\ngenerally this impression, instead of disturbing my whole consciousness\nlike a stone which falls into the water of a pond, merely stirs up\nan idea which is, so to speak, solidified on the surface, the idea\nof rising and attending to my usual occupations. This impression and\nthis idea have in the end become tied up with one another, so that the\nact follows the impression without the self interfering with it. In\nthis instance I am a conscious automaton, and I am so because I have\neverything to gain by being so. It will be found that the majority\nof our daily actions are performed in this way and that, owing to\nthe solidification in memory of such and such sensations, feelings,\nor ideas, impressions from the outside call forth movements on our\npart which, though conscious and even intelligent, have many points\nof resemblance with reflex acts. It is to these acts, which are very\nnumerous but for the most part insignificant, that the associationist\ntheory is applicable. They are, taken all together, the substratum\nof our free activity, and with respect to this activity they play\nthe same part as our organic functions in relation to the whole of\nour conscious life. Moreover we will grant to determinism that we\noften resign our freedom in more serious circumstances, and that, by\nsluggishness or indolence, we allow this same local process to run\nits course when our whole personality ought, so to speak, to vibrate.\nWhen our most trustworthy friends agree in advising us to take some\nimportant step, the sentiments which they utter with so much insistence\nlodge on the surface of our ego and there get solidified in the same\nway as the ideas of which we spoke just now. Little by little they\nwill form a thick crust which will cover up our own sentiments; we\nshall believe that we are acting freely, and it is only by looking back\nto the past, later on, that we shall see how much we were mistaken.\nBut then, at the very minute when the act is going to be performed,\n_something_ may revolt against it. It is the deep-seated self rushing\nup to the surface. It is the outer crust bursting, suddenly giving\nway to an irresistible thrust. Hence in the depths of the self, below\nthis most reasonable pondering over most reasonable pieces of advice,\nsomething else was going on--a gradual heating and a sudden boiling\nover of feelings and ideas, not unperceived, but rather unnoticed. If\nwe turn back to them and carefully scrutinize our memory, we shall\nsee that we had ourselves shaped these ideas, ourselves lived these\nfeelings, but that, through some strange reluctance to exercise our\nwill, we had thrust them back into the darkest depths of our soul\nwhenever they came up to the surface. And this is why we seek in vain\nto explain our sudden change of mind by the visible circumstances\nwhich preceded it. We wish to know the reason why we have made up our\nmind, and we find that we have decided without any reason, and perhaps\neven against every reason. But, in certain cases, that is the best of\nreasons. For the action which has been performed does not then express\nsome superficial idea, almost external to ourselves, distinct and easy\nto account for: it agrees with the whole of our most intimate feelings,\nthoughts and aspirations, with that particular conception of life which\nis the equivalent of all our past experience, in a word, with our\npersonal idea of happiness and of honour. Hence it has been a mistake\nto look for examples in the ordinary and even indifferent circumstances\nof life in order to prove that man is capable of choosing without a\nmotive. It might easily be shown that these insignificant actions are\nbound up with some determining reason. It is at the great and solemn\ncrisis, decisive of our reputation with others, and yet more with\nourselves, that we choose in defiance of what is conventionally called\na motive, and this absence of any tangible reason is the more striking\nthe deeper our freedom goes.\n\n[Sidenote: Determinism sets on the one side the ego, always\nself-identical and on the other contrary feelings. But this is mere\nsymbolism.]\n\nBut the determinist, even when he refrains from regarding the more\nserious emotions or deep-seated psychic states as forces, nevertheless\ndistinguishes them from one another and is thus led to a mechanical\nconception of the self. He will show us this self hesitating between\ntwo contrary feelings, passing from one to the other and finally\ndeciding in favour of one of them. The self and the feelings which stir\nit are thus treated as well defined objects, which remain identical\nduring the whole of the process. But if it is always the same self\nwhich deliberates, and if the two opposite feelings by which it is\nmoved do not change, how, in virtue of this very principle of causality\nwhich determinism appeals to, will the self ever come to a decision?\nThe truth is that the self, by the mere fact of experiencing the\nfirst feeling, has already changed to a slight extent when the second\nsupervenes: all the time that the deliberation is going on, the self is\nchanging and is consequently modifying the two feelings which agitate\nit. A dynamic series of states is thus formed which permeate and\nstrengthen one another, and which will lead by a natural evolution to a\nfree act. But determinism, ever craving for symbolical representation,\ncannot help substituting words for the opposite feelings which share\nthe ego between them, as well as for the ego itself. By giving first\nthe person and then the feelings by which he is moved a fixed form\nby means of sharply defined words, it deprives them in advance of\nevery kind of living activity. It will then see on the one side\nan ego always self-identical, and on the other contrary feelings,\nalso self-identical, which dispute for its possession; victory will\nnecessarily belong to the stronger. But this mechanism, to which we\nhave condemned ourselves in advance, has no value beyond that of a\nsymbolical representation: it cannot hold good against the witness of\nan attentive consciousness, which shows us inner dynamism as a fact.\n\n[Sidenote: Freedom and character. The determinist next asks, could your\nact have been different or can it be foretold?]\n\nIn short, we are free when our acts spring from our whole personality,\nwhen they express it, when that indefinable resemblance to it which\none sometimes finds between the artist and his work. It is no use\nasserting that we are then yielding to the all-powerful influence of\nour character. Our character is still ourselves; and because we are\npleased to split the person into two parts so that by an effort of\nabstraction we may consider in turn the self which feels or thinks\nand the self which acts, it would be very strange to conclude that\none of the two selves is coercing the other. Those who ask whether\nwe are free to alter our character lay themselves open to the same\nobjection. Certainly our character is altering imperceptibly every day,\nand our freedom would suffer if these new acquisitions were grafted\non to our self and not blended with it. But, as soon as this blending\ntakes place, it must be admitted that the change which has supervened\nin our character belongs to us, that we have appropriated it. In a\nword, if it is agreed to call every act free which springs from the\nself and from the self alone, the act which bears the mark of our\npersonality is truly free, for our self alone will lay claim to its\npaternity. It would thus be recognized that free will is a fact, if it\nwere agreed to look for it in a certain characteristic of the decision\nwhich is taken, in the free act itself. But the determinist feeling\nthat he cannot retain his hold on this position, takes refuge in the\npast or the future. Sometimes he transfers himself in thought to some\nearlier period and asserts the necessary determination, from this very\nmoment, of the act which is to come; sometimes, assuming in advance\nthat the act is already performed, he claims that it could not have\ntaken place in any other way. The opponents of determinism themselves\nwillingly follow it on to this new ground and agree to introduce into\ntheir definition of our free act -perhaps not without some risk--the\nanticipation of what we might do and the recollection of some other\ndecision which we might have taken. It is advisable, then, that we\nshould place ourselves at this new point of view, and, setting aside\nall translation into words, all symbolism in space, attend to what pure\nconsciousness alone shows us about an action that has come to pass or\nan action which is still to come. The original error of determinism and\nthe mistake of its opponents will thus be grasped on another side, in\nso far as they bear explicitly on a certain misconception of duration.\n\n[Sidenote: Determinist and libertarian doctrines of possible acts.]\n\n\"To be conscious of free will,\" says Stuart Mill, \"must mean to be\nconscious, before I have decided, that I am able to decide either\nway.[8] This is really the way in which the defenders of free will\nunderstand it; and they assert that when we perform an action freely,\nsome other action would have been \"equally possible.\" On this point\nthey appeal to the testimony of consciousness, which shows us, beyond\nthe act itself, the power of deciding in favour of the opposite\ncourse. Inversely, determinism claims that, given certain antecedents,\nonly one resultant action was possible. \"When we think of ourselves\nhypothetically,\" Stuart Mill goes on, \"as having acted otherwise\nthan we did, we always suppose a difference in the antecedents. We\npicture ourselves as having known something that we did not know,\nor not known something that we did know.\"[9] And, faithful to his\nprinciple, the English philosopher assigns consciousness the r\u00f4le of\ninforming us about what is, not about what might be. We shall not\ninsist for the moment on this last point: we reserve the question\nin what sense the ego perceives itself as a determining cause. But\nbeside this psychological question there is another, belonging rather\nto metaphysics, which the determinists and their opponents solve _a\npriori_ along opposite lines. The argument of the former implies that\nthere is only one possible act corresponding to given antecedents: the\nbelievers in free will assume, on the other hand, that the same series\ncould issue in several different acts, equally possible. It is on this\nquestion of the equal possibility of two contrary actions or volitions\nthat we shall first dwell: perhaps we shall thus gather some indication\nas to the nature of the operation by which the will makes its choice.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Geometrical (and thereby deceptive) representation of the\nprocess of coming to a decision.]\n\nI hesitate between two possible actions X and Y, and I go in turn from\none to the other. This means that I pass through a series of states,\nand that these states can be divided into two groups according as I\nincline more towards X or in the contrary direction. Indeed, these\nopposite inclinations alone have a real existence, and X and Y are two\nsymbols by which I represent at their arrival-or termination-points,\nso to speak, two different tendencies of my personality at successive\nmoments of duration. Let us then rather denote the tendencies\nthemselves by X and Y; will this new notation give a more faithful\nimage of the concrete reality? It must be noticed, as we said above,\nthat the self grows, expands, and changes as it passes through the\ntwo contrary states: if not, how would it ever come to a decision?\nHence there are not exactly two contrary states, but a large number\nof successive and different states within which I distinguish, by an\neffort of imagination, two opposite directions.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThus we shall get still nearer the reality by agreeing to use the\ninvariable signs X and Y to denote, not these tendencies or states\nthemselves, since they are constantly changing, but the two different\ndirections which our imagination ascribes to them for the greater\nconvenience of language. It will also be understood that these\nare symbolical representations, that in reality there are not two\ntendencies, or even two directions, but a self which lives and develops\nby means of its very hesitations, until the free action drops from it\nlike an over-ripe fruit.\n\n[Sidenote: The only reality is the living developing self, in which we\ndistinguish by abstraction two opposite tendencies or directions.]\n\nBut this conception of voluntary activity does not satisfy common\nsense, because, being essentially a devotee of mechanism, it loves\nclear-cut distinctions, those which are expressed by sharply defined\nwords or by different positions in space. Hence it will picture a self\nwhich, after having traversed a series M O of conscious states, when it\nreaches the point O finds before it two directions O X and O Y, equally\nopen. These directions thus become _things,_ real paths into which the\nhighroad of consciousness leads, and it depends only on the self which\nof them is entered upon. In short, the continuous and living activity\nof this self, in which we have distinguished, by abstraction only,\ntwo opposite directions, is replaced by these directions themselves,\ntransformed into indifferent inert things awaiting our choice. But\nthen we must certainly transfer the activity of the self somewhere or\nother. We will put it, according to this hypothesis, at the point O: we\nwill say that the self, when it reaches O and finds two courses open\nto it, hesitates, deliberates and finally decides in favour of one of\nthem. As we find it difficult to picture the double direction of the\nconscious activity in all the phases of its continuous development, we\nseparate off these two tendencies on the one hand and the activity of\nthe self on the other: we thus get an impartially active ego hesitating\nbetween two inert and, as it were, solidified courses of action.\nNow, if it decides in favour of O X, the line O Y will nevertheless\nremain; if it chooses O Y, the path O X will remain open, waiting in\ncase the self retraces its steps in order to make use of it. It is in\nthis sense that we say, when speaking of a free act, that the contrary\naction was equally possible. And, even if we do not draw a geometrical\nfigure on paper, we involuntarily and almost unconsciously think of\nit as soon as we distinguish in the free act a number of successive\nphases, the _conception_ of opposite motives, _hesitation_ and\n_choice_--thus hiding the geometrical symbolism under a kind of verbal\ncrystallization. Now it is easy to see that this really mechanical\nconception of freedom issues naturally and logically in the most\nunbending determinism.\n\n[Sidenote: If this symbolism represents the facts, the activity of the\nself has always tended in one direction, and determinism results.]\n\nThe living activity of the self, in which we distinguish by abstraction\ntwo opposite tendencies, will finally issue either at X or Y. Now,\nsince it is agreed to localize the double activity of the self at the\npoint O, there is no reason to separate this activity from the act\nin which it will issue and which forms part and parcel of it. And if\nexperience shows that the decision has been in favour of X, it is\nnot a neutral activity which should be placed at the point O, but an\nactivity tending in advance in the direction O X, in spite of apparent\nhesitations. If, on the contrary, observation proves that the decision\nhas been in favour of Y, we must infer that the activity localized\nby us at the point O was bent in this second direction in spite of\nsome oscillations towards the first. To assert that the self, when\nit reaches the point O, chooses indifferently between X and Y, is to\nstop half way in the course of our geometrical symbolism; it is to\nseparate off at the point O only a part of this continuous activity\nin which we undoubtedly distinguished two different directions, but\nwhich in addition has gone on to X or Y: why not take this last fact\ninto account as well as the other two? Why not assign it the place that\nbelongs to it in the symbolical figure which we have just constructed?\nBut if the self, when it reaches the point O, is already determined\nin one direction, there is no use in the other way remaining open,\nthe self cannot take it. And the same rough symbolism which was meant\nto show the contingency of the action performed, ends, by a natural\nextension, in proving its absolute necessity.\n\n[Sidenote: Libertarians ignore the fact that one path has been chosen,\nand not the other.]\n\nIn short, defenders and opponents of free will agree in holding that\nthe action is preceded by a kind of mechanical oscillation between two\npoints X and Y. If I decide in favour of X, the former will tell me:\nyou hesitated and deliberated, therefore Y was possible. The others\nwill answer: you chose X, therefore you had some reason for doing\nso, and those who declare that Y was equally possible forget this\nreason: they leave aside one of the conditions of the problem. Now,\nif I dig deeper underneath these two opposite solutions, I discover a\ncommon postulate: both take up their position after the action X has\nbeen performed, and represent the process of my voluntary activity\nby a path M O which branches off at the point O, the lines O X and\nO Y symbolizing the two directions which abstraction distinguishes\nwithin the continuous activity of which X is the goal. But while the\ndeterminists take account of all that they know, and note that the\npath M O X has been traversed, their opponents mean to ignore one of\nthe data with which they have constructed the figure, and after having\ntraced out the lines O X and O Y, which should together represent the\nprogress of the activity of the self, they bring back the self to the\npoint O to oscillate there until further orders.\n\n[Sidenote: But the figure merely gives the stereotyped memory of the\nprocess, and not the dynamic progress which issued in the set.]\n\nIt should not be forgotten, indeed, that the figure, which is really\na splitting of our psychic activity in space, is purely symbolical,\nand as such, cannot be constructed unless we adopt the hypothesis\nthat our deliberation is finished and our mind made up. If you trace\nit beforehand, act you assume that you have reached the end and are\npresent in imagination at the final act. In short this figure does not\nshow me the deed in the doing but the deed already done. Do not ask\nme then whether the self, having traversed the path M O and decided\nin favour of X, could or could not choose Y: I should answer that the\nquestion is meaningless, because there is no line M O, no point O, no\npath O X, no direction O Y. To ask such a question is to admit the\npossibility of adequately representing time by space and a succession\nby a simultaneity. It is to ascribe to the figure we have traced the\nvalue of a description, and not merely of a symbol; it is to believe\nthat it is possible to follow the process of psychic activity on this\nfigure like the march of an army on a map. We have been present at the\ndeliberation of the self in all its phases until the act was performed:\nthen, recapitulating the terms of the series, we perceive succession\nunder the form of simultaneity, we project time into space, and we\nbase our reasoning, consciously or unconsciously, on this geometrical\nfigure. But this figure represents a _thing_ and not a _progress_; it\ncorresponds, in its inertness, to a kind of stereotyped memory of the\nwhole process of deliberation and the final decision arrived at: how\ncould it give us the least idea of the concrete movement, the dynamic\nprogress by which the deliberation issued in the act? And yet, once\nthe figure is constructed, we go back in imagination into the past and\nwill have it that our psychic activity has followed exactly the path\ntraced out by the figure. We thus fall into the mistake which has been\npointed out above: we give a mechanical explanation of a fact, and\nthen substitute the explanation for the fact itself. Hence we encounter\ninsuperable difficulties from the very beginning: if the two courses\nwere equally possible, how have we made our choice? If only one of them\nwas possible, why did we believe ourselves free? And we do not see that\nboth questions come back to this: Is time space?\n\n[Sidenote: Fundamental error is confusion of time and space. The self\ninfallible in affirming immediate experience of freedom, but cannot\nexplain it.]\n\nIf I glance over a road marked on the map and follow it up to a\ncertain point, there is nothing to prevent my turning back and trying\nto find out whether it branches off anywhere. But time is not a line\nalong which one can pass again. Certainly, once it has elapsed, we\nare justified in picturing the successive moments as external to one\nanother and in thus thinking of a line traversing space; but it must\nthen be understood that this line does not symbolize the time which\nis passing but the time which has passed. Defenders and opponents of\nfree will alike forget this--the former when they assert, and the\nlatter when they deny the possibility of acting differently from what\nwe have done. The former reason thus: \"The path is not yet traced out,\ntherefore it may take any direction whatever.\" To which the answer is:\n\"You forget that it is not possible to speak of a path till the action\nis performed: but then it will have been traced out.\" The latter say:\n\"The path has been traced out in such and such a way: therefore its\npossible direction was not any direction whatever, but only this one\ndirection.\" To which the answer is: \"Before the path was traced out\nthere was no direction, either possible or impossible, for the very\nsimple reason that there could not yet be any question of a path.\" Get\nrid of this clumsy symbolism, the idea of which besets you without your\nknowing it; you will see that the argument of the determinists assumes\nthis puerile form: \"The act, once performed, is performed,\" and that\ntheir opponents reply: \"The act, before being performed, was not yet\nperformed.\" In other words, the question of freedom remains after this\ndiscussion exactly where it was to begin with; nor must we be surprised\nat it, since freedom must be sought in a certain shade or quality of\nthe action itself and not in the relation of this act to what it is\nnot or to what it might have been. All the difficulty arises from the\nfact that both parties picture the deliberation under the form of an\noscillation in space, while it really consists in a dynamic progress\nin which the self and its motives, like real living beings, are in a\nconstant state of becoming. The self, infallible when it affirms its\nimmediate experiences, feels itself free and says so; but, as soon\nas it tries to explain its freedom to itself, it no longer perceives\nitself except by a kind of refraction through space. Hence a symbolism\nof a mechanical kind, equally incapable of proving, disproving, or\nillustrating free will.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Is prediction of an act possible? Probable and infallible\nconclusions.]\n\nBut determinism will not admit itself beaten, and, putting the question\nin a new form, it will say: \"Let us leave aside actions already\nperformed: let us consider only actions that are to come. The question\nis whether, knowing from now onwards all the future antecedents,\nsome higher intelligence would not be able to predict with absolute\ncertainty the decision which will result.\"--We gladly agree to the\nquestion being put in these terms: it will give us a chance of stating\nour own theory with greater precision. But we shall first draw a\ndistinction between those who think that the knowledge of antecedents\nwould enable us to state a _probable_ conclusion and those who speak of\nan _infallible_ foresight. To say that a certain friend, under certain\ncircumstances, will very probably act in a certain way, is not so much\nto predict the future conduct of our friend as to pass a judgment\non his present character, that is to say, on his past. Although our\nfeelings, our ideas, our character, are constantly altering, a sudden\nchange is seldom observed; and it is still more seldom that we cannot\nsay of a person whom we know that certain actions seem to accord\nfairly well with his nature and that certain others are absolutely\ninconsistent with it. All philosophers will agree on this point; for\nto say that a given action is consistent or inconsistent with the\npresent character of a person whom one knows is not to bind the future\nto the present. But the determinist goes much further: he asserts\nthat our solution is provisional simply because we never know all the\nconditions of the problem: that our forecast would gain in probability\nin proportion as we were provided with a larger number of these\nconditions; that, therefore, complete and perfect knowledge of all the\nantecedents without any exception would make our forecast infallibly\ntrue. Such, then, is the hypothesis which we have to examine.\n\n[Sidenote: To know _completely_ the antecedents and conditions of an\naction is to be actually performing it.]\n\nFor the sake of greater definiteness, let us imagine a person called\nupon to make a seemingly free decision under serious circumstances:\nwe shall call him Peter. The question is whether a philosopher Paul,\nliving at the same period as Peter, or, if you prefer, a few centuries\nbefore, would have been able, knowing _all_ the conditions under which\nPeter acts, to foretell with certainty the choice which Peter made.\n\nThere are several ways of picturing the mental condition of a person at\na given moment. We try to do it when e.g. we read a novel; but whatever\ncare the author may have taken in depicting the feelings of his hero,\nand even in tracing back his history, the end, foreseen or unforeseen,\nwill add something to the idea which we had formed of the character:\nthe character, therefore, was only imperfectly known to us. In truth,\nthe deeper psychic states, those which are translated by free acts,\nexpress and sum up the whole of our past history: if Paul knows all\nthe conditions under which Peter acts, we must suppose that no detail\nof Peter's life escapes him, and that his imagination reconstructs and\neven lives over again Peter's history. But we must here make a vital\ndistinction. When I myself pass through a certain psychic state, I know\nexactly the intensity of this state and its importance in relation to\nthe others, not by measurement or comparison, but because the intensity\nof e.g. a deep-seated feeling is nothing else than the feeling itself.\nOn the other hand, if I try to give you an account of this psychic\nstate, I shall be unable to make you realize its intensity except by\nsome definite sign of a mathematical kind: I shall have to measure its\nimportance, compare it with what goes before and what follows, in\nshort determine the part which it plays in the final act. And I shall\nsay that it is more or less intense, more or less important, according\nas the final act is explained by it or apart from it. On the other\nhand, for my own consciousness, which perceived this inner state, there\nwas no need of a comparison of this kind: the intensity was given to\nit as an inexpressible quality of the state itself. In other words,\nthe intensity of a psychic state is not given to consciousness as a\nspecial sign accompanying this state and denoting its power, like an\nexponent in algebra; we have shown above that it expresses rather its\nshade, its characteristic colouring, and that, if it is a question of\na feeling, for example, its intensity consists in being felt. Hence\nwe have to distinguish two ways of assimilating the conscious states\nof other people: the one dynamic, which consists in experiencing them\noneself; the other static, which consists in substituting for the\nconsciousness of these states their image or rather their intellectual\nsymbol, their idea. In this case the conscious states are _imagined_\ninstead of being _reproduced_; but, then, to the image of the psychic\nstates themselves some indication of their _intensity_ should be added,\nsince they no longer act on the person in whose mind they are pictured\nand the latter has no longer any chance of experiencing their force by\nactually feeling them. Now, this indication itself will necessarily\nassume a quantitative character: it will be pointed out, for example,\nthat a certain feeling has more strength than another feeling, that it\nis necessary to take more account of it, that it has played a greater\npart; and how could this be known unless the later history of the\nperson were known in advance, with the precise actions in which this\nmultiplicity of states or inclinations has issued? Therefore, if Paul\nis to have an adequate idea of Peter's state at any moment of his\nhistory, there are only two courses open; either, like a novelist who\nknows whither he is conducting his characters, Paul must already know\nPeter's final act, and must thus be able to supplement his mental image\nof the successive states through which Peter is going to pass by some\nindication of their value in relation to the whole of Peter's history;\nor he must make up his mind to pass through these different states,\nnot in imagination, but in reality. The former hypothesis must be put\non one side since the very point at issue is whether, the antecedents\n_alone_ being given, Paul will be able to foresee the final act. We\nfind ourselves compelled, therefore, to alter radically the idea\nwhich we had formed of Paul: he is not, as we had thought at first, a\nspectator whose eyes pierce the future, but an actor who plays Peter's\npart in advance. And notice that you cannot exempt him from any detail\nof this part, for the most common-place events have their importance in\na life-story; and even supposing that they have not, you cannot decide\nthat they are insignificant except in relation to the final act,\nwhich, by hypothesis, is not given. Neither have you the right to cut\nshort--were it only by a second--the different states of consciousness\nthrough which Paul is going to pass before Peter; for the effects of\nthe same feeling, for example, go on accumulating at every moment of\nduration, and the sum total of these effects could not be realized all\nat once unless one knew the importance of the feeling, taken in its\ntotality, in relation to the final act, which is the very thing that is\nsupposed to remain unknown. But if Peter and Paul have experienced the\nsame feelings in the same order, if their minds have the same history,\nhow will you distinguish one from the other? Will it be by the body in\nwhich they dwell? They would then always differ in some respect, viz.,\nthat at no moment of their history would they have a mental picture\nof the same body. Will it be by the place which they occupy in time?\nIn that case they would no longer be present at the same events: now,\nby hypothesis, they have the same past and the same present, having\nthe same experience. You must now make up your mind about it: Peter\nand Paul are one and the same person, whom you call Peter when he acts\nand Paul when you recapitulate his history. The more complete you\nmade the sum of the conditions which, when known, would have enabled\nyou to predict Peter's future action, the closer became your grasp of\nhis existence and the nearer you came to living his life over again\ndown to its smallest details: you thus reached the very moment when,\nthe action taking place, there was no longer anything to be foreseen,\nbut only something to be done. Here again any attempt to reconstruct\nideally an act really _willed_ ends in the mere witnessing of the act\nwhilst it is being performed or when it is already done.\n\n[Sidenote: Hence meaningless to ask whether an act can be foreseen when\n_all_ its antecedents are given.]\n\nHence it is a question devoid of meaning to ask: Could or could not\nthe act be foreseen, given the sum total of its antecedents? For there\nare two ways of assimilating these antecedents, the one dynamic the\nother static. In the first case we shall be led by imperceptible steps\nto identify ourselves with the person we are dealing with, to pass\nthrough the same series of states, and thus to get back to the very\nmoment at which the act is performed; hence there can no longer be any\nquestion of foreseeing it. In the second case, we presuppose the final\nact by the mere fact of annexing to the qualitative description of the\nprevious states the quantitative appreciation of their importance.\nHere again the one party is led merely to realize that the act is not\nyet performed when it is to be performed, and the other, that when\nperformed it is performed. This, like the previous discussion, leaves\nthe question of freedom exactly where it was to begin with.\n\n[Sidenote: The two fallacies involved: (1) regarding intensity as a\nmagnitude, not a quality; (2) substituting material symbol for dynamic\nprocess.]\n\nBy going deeper into this twofold argument, we shall find, at its very\nroot, the two fundamental illusions of the reflective consciousness.\nThe first consists in regarding: intensity as a mathematical property\nof psychic states and not, as we said at the beginning of this essay,\nas a special quality, as a particular shade of these various states.\nThe second consists in substituting for the concrete reality or dynamic\nprogress, which consciousness perceives, the material symbol of this\nprogress when it has already reached its end, that is to say, of the\nact already accomplished together with the series of its antecedents.\nCertainly, once the final act is completed, I can ascribe to all the\nantecedents their proper value, and picture the interplay of these\nvarious elements as a conflict or a composition of forces. But to ask\nwhether, the antecedents being known as well as their value, one could\nforetell the final act, is to beg the question; it is to forget that\nwe cannot know the value of the antecedents without knowing the final\nact, which is the very thing that is not yet known; it is to suppose\nwrongly that the symbolical diagram which we draw in our own way for\nrepresenting the action _when completed_ has been drawn by the action\nitself _whilst progressing,_ and drawn by it in an automatic manner.\n\n[Sidenote: Claiming to foresee an action always comes back to confusing\ntime with space.]\n\nNow, in these two illusions themselves a third one is involved, and\nyou will see that the question whether the act could or could not\nbe foreseen always comes back to this: Is time space? You begin by\nsetting side by side in some ideal space the conscious states which\nsucceed one another in Peter's mind, and you perceive his life as a\nkind of path M O X Y traced out by a moving body M in space. You then\nblot out in thought the part O X Y of this curve, and you inquire\nwhether, knowing M O, you would have been able to determine the portion\nO X of the curve which the moving body describes beyond O.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSuch is, in the main, the question which you put when you bring in a\nphilosopher Paul, who lives before Peter and has to picture to himself\nthe conditions under which Peter will act. You thus materialize these\nconditions; you make the time to come into a road already marked\nout across the plain, which we can contemplate from the top of the\nmountain, even if we have not traversed it and are never to do so.\nBut, now, you soon notice that the knowledge of the part M O of the\ncurve would not be enough, unless you were shown the position of the\npoints of this line, not only in relation to one another, but also in\nrelation to the points of the whole line M O X Y; which would amount to\nbeing given in advance the very elements which have to be determined.\nSo you then alter your hypothesis; you realize that time does not\nrequire to be seen, but to be lived; and hence you conclude that, if\nyour knowledge of the line M O was not a sufficient datum, the reason\nmust have been that you looked at it from the outside instead of\nidentifying yourself with the point M, which describes not only M O but\nalso the whole curve, and thus making its movement your own. Therefore,\nyou persuade Paul to come and coincide with Peter; and naturally,\nthen, it is the line M O X Y which Paul traces out in space, since, by\nhypothesis, Peter describes this line. But in no wise do you prove thus\nthat Paul foresaw Peter's action; you only show that Peter acted in\nthe way he did, since Paul became Peter. It is true that you then come\nback, unwittingly, to your former hypothesis, because you continually\nconfuse the line M O X Y in its tracing with the line M O X Y already\ntraced, that is to say, time with space. After causing Paul to come\ndown and identify himself with Peter as long as was required, you let\nhim go up again and resume his former post of observation. No wonder if\nhe then perceives the line M O X Y complete: he himself has just been\ncompleting it.\n\n[Sidenote: Confusion arising from prediction of astronomical phenomena.]\n\nWhat makes the confusion a natural and almost an unavoidable one is\nthat science seems to point to many cases where we do anticipate the\nfuture. Do we not determine beforehand the conjunctions of heavenly\nbodies, solar and lunar eclipses, in short the greater number of\nastronomical phenomena? Does not, then, the human intellect embrace\nin the present moment immense intervals of duration still to come? No\ndoubt it does; but an anticipation of this kind has not the slightest\nresemblance to the anticipation of a voluntary act. Indeed, as we shall\nsee, the reasons which render it possible to foretell an astronomical\nphenomenon are the very ones which prevent us from determining in\nadvance an act which springs from our free activity. For the future of\nthe material universe, although contemporaneous with the future of a\nconscious being, has no analogy to it.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from hypothetical acceleration of physical\nmovements.]\n\nIn order to put our finger on this vital difference, let us assume\nfor a moment that some mischievous illustration genius, more powerful\nstill than the mischievous genius conjured up by Descartes decreed\nthat all the movements of the universe should go twice as fast. There\nwould be no change in astronomical phenomena, or at any rate in the\nequations which enable us to foresee them, for in these equations the\nsymbol _t_ does not stand for a duration, but for a relation between\ntwo durations, for a certain number of units of time, in short, for\na certain number of _simultaneities:_ these simultaneities, these\ncoincidences would still take place in equal number: only the intervals\nwhich separate them would have diminished, but these intervals never\nmake their appearance in our calculations. Now these intervals are just\nduration _lived,_ duration which our consciousness perceives, and our\nconsciousness would soon inform us of a shortening of the day if we\nhad not experienced the usual amount of duration between sunrise and\nsunset. No doubt it would not measure this shortening, and perhaps it\nwould not even perceive it immediately as a change of quantity; but it\nwould realize in some way or other a decline in the usual storing up\nof experience, a change in the progress usually accomplished between\nsunrise and sunset.\n\n[Sidenote: Astronomical prophecy such as acceleration.]\n\nNow, when an astronomer foretells e.g. a lunar eclipse, he merely\nexercises in his own way the power which we have ascribed to our\nmischievous genius. He decrees that time shall go ten times, a hundred\ntimes, a thousand times as fast, and he has a right to do so, since\nall that he thus changes is the nature of the conscious intervals,\nand since these intervals, by hypothesis, do not enter into the\ncalculations. Therefore, into a psychological duration of a few seconds\nhe may put several years, even several centuries of astronomical\ntime: that is his procedure when he traces in advance the path of a\nheavenly body or represents it by an equation. What he does is nothing\nbut establishing a series of relations of position between this body\nand other given bodies, a series of simultaneities and coincidences,\na series of numerical relations: as for duration properly so called,\nit remains outside the calculation and could only be perceived by a\nconsciousness capable of living through the intervals and, in fact,\nliving the intervals themselves, instead of merely perceiving their\nextremities. Indeed it is even conceivable that this consciousness\ncould live so slow and lazy a life as to take in the whole path of the\nheavenly body in a single perception, just as we do when we perceive\nthe successive positions of a shooting star as one line of fire. Such a\nconsciousness would find itself really in the same conditions in which\nthe astronomer places himself ideally; it would see in the present\nwhat the astronomer perceives in the future. In truth, if the latter\nforesees a future phenomenon, it is only on condition of making it to a\ncertain extent a present phenomenon, or at least of enormously reducing\nthe interval which separates us from it. In short, the time of which\nwe speak in astronomy is a number, and the nature of the units of this\nnumber cannot be specified in our calculations; we may therefore assume\nthem to be as small as we please, provided that the same hypothesis is\nextended to the whole series of operations, and that the successive\nrelations of position in space are thus preserved. We shall then be\npresent in imagination at the phenomenon we wish to foretell; we shall\nknow exactly at what point in space and after how many units of time\nthis phenomenon takes place; if we then restore to these units their\npsychical nature, we shall thrust the event again into the future and\nsay that we have foreseen it, when in reality we have seen it.\n\n[Sidenote: In dealing with states of consciousness we cannot vary their\nduration without altering their nature.]\n\nBut these units of time which make up living duration, and which the\nastronomer can dispose of as he pleases because they give no handle\nto science, are just what concern the psychologist, for psychology\ndeals with the intervals themselves and not with their extremities.\nCertainly pure consciousness does not perceive time as a sum of units\nof duration: left to itself, it has no means and even no reason to\nmeasure time; but a feeling which lasted only half the number of days,\nfor example, would no longer be the same feeling for it; it would lack\nthousands of impressions which gradually thickened its substance and\naltered its colour. True, when we give this feeling a certain name,\nwhen we treat it as a thing, we believe that we can diminish its\nduration by half, for example, and also halve the duration of all the\nrest of our history: it seems that it would still be the same life,\nonly on a reduced scale. But we forget that states of consciousness\nare processes, and not things; that if we denote them each by a single\nword, it is for the convenience of language; that they are alive and\ntherefore constantly changing; that, in consequence, it is impossible\nto cut off a moment from them without making them poorer by the loss of\nsome impression, and thus altering their quality. I quite understand\nthat the orbit of a planet might be perceived all at once or in a very\nshort time, because its successive positions or the _results_ of its\nmovement are the only things that matter, and not the duration of the\nequal intervals which separate them. But when we have to do with a\nfeeling, it has no precise result except its having been felt; and,\nto estimate this result adequately, it would be necessary to have\ngone through all the phases of the feeling itself and to have taken\nup the same duration. Even if this feeling has finally issued in some\ndefinite action, which might be compared to the definite position of\na planet in space, the knowledge of this act will hardly enable us to\nestimate the influence of the feeling on the whole of a life-story, and\nit is this very influence which we want to know. All foreseeing is in\nreality seeing, and this seeing takes place when we can reduce as much\nas we please an interval of future time while preserving the relation\nof its parts to one another, as happens in the case of astronomical\npredictions. But what does reducing an interval of time mean, except\nemptying or impoverishing the conscious states which fill it? And does\nnot the very possibility of seeing an astronomical period in miniature\nthus imply the impossibility of modifying a psychological series in the\nsame way, since it is only by taking this psychological series as an\ninvariable basis that we shall be able to make an astronomical period\nvary arbitrarily as regards the unit of duration?\n\n[Sidenote: Difference between past and future duration in this respect.]\n\nThus, when we ask whether a future action could have been foreseen, we\nunwittingly identify that time with which we have to do in the exact\nsciences, and which is reducible to a number, with real duration, whose\nso-called quantity is really a quality, and which we cannot curtail\nby an instant without altering the nature of the facts which fill it.\nNo doubt the identification is made easier by the fact that in a large\nnumber of cases we are justified in dealing with real duration as with\nastronomical time. Thus, when we call to mind the past, i.e. a series\nof deeds done, we always shorten it, without however distorting the\nnature of the event which interests us. The reason is that we know\nit already; for the psychic state, when it reaches the end of the\n_progress_ which constitutes its very existence, becomes a _thing_\nwhich one can picture to oneself all at once. Here we find ourselves\nin the same position as the astronomer, when he takes in at a glance\nthe orbit which a planet will need several years to traverse. In fact,\nastronomical prediction should be compared with the recollection of the\npast state of consciousness, not with the anticipation of the future\none. But when we have to determine a future state of consciousness,\nhowever superficial it may be, we can no longer view the antecedents in\na static condition as things; we must view them in a dynamic condition\nas processes, since we are concerned with their influence alone. Now\ntheir duration is this very influence. Therefore it will no longer do\nto shorten future duration in order to picture its parts beforehand;\none is bound to _live_ this duration whilst it is unfolding. As far\nas deep-seated psychic states are concerned, there is no perceptible\ndifference between foreseeing, seeing, and acting.\n\n[Sidenote: The determinist argument that psychic phenomena are subject\nto the law \"same antecedents, same consequent.\"]\n\nOnly one course will remain open to the determinist. He will probably\ngive up asserting the possibility of foreseeing a certain future act or\nstate of consciousness, but will maintain that every act is determined\nby its psychic antecedents, or, in other words, that the facts of\nconsciousness, went, the phenomena of nature, are subject to laws. This\nway of arguing means, at bottom, that he will leave out the particular\nfeatures of the concrete psychic states, lest he find himself\nconfronted by phenomena which defy all symbolical representation and\ntherefore all anticipation. The particular nature of these phenomena\nis thus thrust out of sight, but it is asserted that, being phenomena,\nthey must remain subject to the law of causality. Now, it is argued,\nthis law means that every phenomenon is determined by its conditions,\nor, in other words, that the same causes produce the same effects.\nEither, then, the act is inseparably bound to its antecedents, or the\nprinciple of causality admits of an incomprehensible exception.\n\n[Sidenote: But as regards inner states the same antecedents will never\nrecur.]\n\nThis last form of the determinist argument differs less than might be\nthought from all the others which have been examined above. To say that\nthe same inner causes will reproduce the same effects is to assume that\nthe same cause can appear a second time on the stage of consciousness.\nNow, if duration is what we say, deep-seated psychic states are\nradically heterogeneous to each other, and it is impossible that any\ntwo of them should be quite alike, since they are two different moments\nof a life-story. While the external object does not bear the mark of\nthe time that has elapsed and thus, in spite of the difference of time,\nthe physicist can again encounter identical elementary conditions,\nduration is something real for the consciousness which preserves the\ntrace of it, and we cannot here speak of identical conditions, because\nthe same moment does not occur twice. It is no use arguing that, even\nif there are no two deep-seated psychic states which are altogether\nalike, yet analysis would resolve these different states into more\ngeneral and homogeneous elements which might be compared with each\nother. This would be to forget that even the simplest psychic elements\npossess a personality and a life of their own, however superficial they\nmay be; they are in a constant state of becoming, and the same feeling,\nby the mere fact of being repeated, is a new feeling. Indeed, we have\nno reason for calling it by its former name save that it corresponds\nto the same external cause or projects itself outwardly into similar\nattitudes: hence it would simply be begging the question to deduce from\nthe so-called likeness of two conscious states that the same cause\nproduces the same effect. In short, if the causal relation still holds\ngood in the realm of inner states, it cannot resemble in any way what\nwe call causality in nature. For the physicist, the same cause always\nproduces the same effect: for a psychologist who does not let himself\nbe misled by merely apparent analogies, a deep-seated inner cause\nproduces its effect once for all and will never reproduce it. And if\nit is now asserted that this effect was inseparably bound up with this\nparticular cause, such an assertion will mean one of two things: either\nthat, the antecedents being given, the future action might have been\nforeseen; or that, the action having once been performed, any other\nactionals seen, under the given conditions, to have been impossible.\nNow we saw that both these assertions were equally meaningless, and\nthat they also involved a false conception of duration.\n\n[Sidenote: Analysis of the conception of cause, which underlies the\nwhole determinist argument.]\n\nNevertheless it will be worth while to dwell on this latter form of the\ndeterminist argument, even though it be only to explain from our point\nof view the meaning of the two words \"determination\" and \"causality.\"\nIn vain do we argue that there cannot be any question either of\nforeseeing a future action in the way that an astronomical phenomenon\nis foreseen, or of asserting, when once an action is done, that any\nother action would have been impossible under the given conditions. In\nvain do we add that, even when it takes this form: \"The same causes\nproduce the same effects,\" the principle of universal determination\nloses every shred of meaning in the inner world of conscious states.\nThe determinist will perhaps yield to our arguments on each of these\nthree points in particular, will admit that in the psychical field one\ncannot ascribe any of these three meanings to the word determination,\nwill probably fail to discover a fourth meaning, and yet will go on\nrepeating that the act is inseparably bound up with its antecedents. We\nthus find ourselves here confronted by so deep-seated a misapprehension\nand so obstinate a prejudice that we cannot get the better of them\nwithout attacking them at their root, which is the principle of\ncausality. By analysing the concept of cause, we shall show the\nambiguity which it involves, and, though not aiming at a formal\ndefinition of freedom, we shall perhaps get beyond the purely negative\nidea of it which we have framed up to the present.\n\n[Sidenote: Causality as \"regular succession\" does not apply to\nconscious states and cannot disprove free will.]\n\nWe perceive physical phenomena, and these phenomena obey laws. This\nmeans: (i) that phenomena _a, b, c, d,_ previously perceived, can\noccur again in the same shape; (2) that a certain phenomenon _P,_\nwhich appeared after the conditions _a, b, c, d,_ and after these\nconditions only, will not fail to recur as soon as the same conditions\nare again present. If the principle of causality told us nothing\nmore, as the empiricists claim, we should willingly grant these\nphilosophers that their principle is derived from experience; but\nit would no longer prove anything against our freedom. For it would\nthen be understood that definite antecedents give rise to a definite\nconsequent _wherever_ experience shows us this regular succession;\nbut the question is whether this regularity is found in the domain\nof consciousness too, and that is the whole problem of free will. We\ngrant you for a moment that the principle of causality is nothing but\nthe summing up of the uniform and unconditional successions observed\nin the past: by what right, then, do you apply it to those deep-seated\nstates of consciousness in which no regular succession has yet been\ndiscovered, since the attempt to foresee them ever fails? And how can\nyou base on this principle your argument to prove the determinism of\ninner states, when, according to you, the determinism of observed\nfacts is the sole source of the principle itself? In truth, when the\nempiricists make use of the principle of causality to disprove human\nfreedom, they take the word cause in a new meaning, which is the very\nmeaning given to it by common sense.\n\nTo assert the regular succession of two phenomena is, indeed, to\nrecognize that, the first being given, we already catch sight of the\nsecond. But this wholly subjective connexion between two ideas is not\nenough for common sense. It seems to common sense that, if the idea\nof the second phenomenon is already implied in that of the first, the\nsecond phenomenon itself must exist objectively, in some way or other,\nwithin the first phenomenon. And common sense was bound to come to\nthis conclusion, because to distinguish exactly between an objective\nconnexion of phenomena and a subjective association between their ideas\npresupposes a fairly high degree of philosophical culture. We thus pass\nimperceptibly from the first meaning to the second, and we picture the\ncausal relation as a kind of prefiguring of the future phenomenon in\nits present conditions. Now this prefiguring can be understood in two\nvery different ways, and it is just here that the ambiguity begins.\n\n[Sidenote: Causality, as the prefiguring of the future phenomenon in\nits present conditions, in one form destroys concrete phenomena.]\n\nIn the first place, mathematics furnishes us with _one_ type of\nthis kind of prefiguring. The very movement by which we draw the\ncircumference of a circle on a sheet of paper generates all the\nmathematical properties of this figure: in this sense an unlimited\nnumber of theorems can be said to pre-exist within the definition,\nalthough they will be spread out in duration for the mathematician\nwho deduces them. It is true that we are here in the realm of pure\nquantity and that, as geometrical properties can be expressed in the\nform of equations, it is easy to understand how the original equation,\nexpressing the fundamental property of the figure, is transformed into\nan unlimited number of new ones, all virtually contained in the first.\nOn the contrary, physical phenomena, which succeed one another and are\nperceived by our senses, are distinguished by quality not less than by\nquantity, so that there would be some difficulty in at once declaring\nthem equivalent to one another. But, just because they are perceived\nthrough our sense-organs, we seem justified in ascribing their\nqualitative differences to the impression which they make on us and in\nassuming, behind the heterogeneity of our sensations, a homogeneous\nphysical universe. Thus, we shall strip matter of the concrete\nqualities with which our senses clothe it, colour, heat, resistance,\neven weight, and we shall finally find ourselves confronted with\nhomogeneous extensity, space without body. The only step then remaining\nwill be to describe figures in space, to make them move according to\nmathematically formulated laws, and to explain the apparent qualities\nof matter by the shape, position, and motion of these geometrical\nfigures. Now, position is given by a system of fixed magnitudes and\nmotion is expressed by a law, i.e. by a constant relation between\nvariable magnitudes; but shape is a mental image, and, however tenuous,\nhowever transparent we assume it to be, it still constitutes, in so\nfar as our imagination has, so to speak, the visual perception of\nit, a concrete and therefore irreducible quality of matter. It will\ntherefore be necessary to make a clean sweep of this image itself and\nreplace it by the abstract formula of the movement which gives rise\nto the figure. Picture then algebraical relations getting entangled\nin one another, becoming objective by this very entanglement, and\nproducing, by the mere effect of their complexity, concrete, visible,\nand tangible reality,--you will be merely drawing the consequences\nof the principle of causality, understood in the sense of an actual\nprefiguring of the future in the present. The scientists of our time do\nnot seem, indeed, to have carried abstraction so far, except perhaps\nLord Kelvin. This acute and profound physicist assumed that space is\nfilled with a homogeneous and incompressible fluid in which vortices\nmove, thus producing the properties of matter: these vortices are the\nconstituent elements of bodies; the atom thus becomes a movement, and\nphysical phenomena are reduced to regular movements taking place within\nan incompressible fluid. But, if you will notice that this fluid is\nperfectly homogeneous, that between its parts there is neither an empty\ninterval which separates them nor any difference whatever by which\nthey can be distinguished, you will see that all movement taking place\nwithin this fluid is really equivalent to absolute immobility, since\nbefore, during, and after the movement nothing changes and nothing\nhas changed in the whole. The movement which is here spoken of is\nthus not a movement which actually takes place, but only a movement\nwhich is pictured mentally: it is a relation between relations. It is\nimplicitly supposed, though perhaps not actually realized, that motion\nhas something to do with consciousness, that in space there are only\nsimultaneities, and that the business of the physicist is to provide\nus with the means of calculating these relations of simultaneity for\nany moment of our duration. Nowhere has mechanism been carried further\nthan in this system, since the very shape of the ultimate elements of\nmatter is here reduced to a movement. But the Cartesian physics already\nanticipated this interpretation; for if matter is nothing, as Descartes\nclaimed, but homogeneous extensity, the movements of the parts of this\nextensity can be conceived through the abstract law which governs them\nor through an algebraical equation between variable magnitudes, but\ncannot be represented under the concrete form of an image. And it would\nnot be difficult to prove that the more the progress of mechanical\nexplanations enables us to develop this conception of causality and\ntherefore to relieve the atom of the weight of its sensible qualities,\nthe more the concrete existence of the phenomena of nature tends to\nvanish into algebraical smoke.\n\n[Sidenote: It thus leads to Descartes' physics and Spinoza's\nmetaphysics, but cannot bind future to present without neglecting\nduration.]\n\nThus understood, the relation of causality is a necessary relation in\nthe sense that it will indefinitely approach the relation of identity,\nas a curve approaches its asymptote. The Principle of identity is the\nabsolute law of our consciousness: it asserts that what is thought\nis thought at the moment when we think it: and what gives this\nprinciple its absolute necessity is that it does not bind the future\nto the present, but only the present to the present: it expresses the\nunshakable confidence that consciousness feels in itself, so long as,\nfaithful to its duty, it confines itself to declaring the apparent\npresent state of the mind. But the principle of causality, in so far\nas it is supposed to bind the future to the present, could never take\nthe form of a necessary principle; for the successive moments of\nreal time are not bound up with one another, and no effort of logic\nwill succeed in proving that what has been will be or will continue\nto be, that the same antecedents will always give rise to identical\nconsequents. Descartes understood this so well that he attributed the\nregularity of the physical world and the continuation of the same\neffects to the constantly renewed grace of Providence; he built up, as\nit were, an instantaneous physics, intended for a universe the whole\nduration of which might as well be confined to the present moment.\nAnd Spinoza maintained that the indefinite series of phenomena, which\ntakes for us the form of a succession in time, was equivalent, in the\nabsolute, to the divine unity: he thus assumed, on the one hand, that\nthe relation of apparent causality between phenomena melted away into\na relation of identity in the absolute, and, on the other, that the\nindefinite duration of things was all contained in a single moment,\nwhich is eternity. In short, whether we study Cartesian physics,\nSpinozistic metaphysics, or the scientific theories of our own time,\nwe shall find everywhere the same anxiety to establish a relation of\nlogical necessity between cause and effect, and we shall see that this\nanxiety shows itself in a tendency to transform relations of succession\ninto relations of inherence, to do away with active duration, and to\nsubstitute for apparent causality a fundamental identity.\n\n[Sidenote: The necessary determination of phenomena implies\nnon-duration; but we _endure_ and are therefore free.]\n\nNow, if the development of the notion of causality, understood\nin the sense of necessary connexion, leads to the Spinozistic or\nCartesian conception of nature, inversely, all relation of necessary\ndetermination established between successive phenomena may be supposed\nto arise from our perceiving, in a confused form, some mathematical\nmechanism behind their heterogeneity. We do not claim that common\nsense has any intuition of the kinetic theories of matter, still less\nperhaps of a Spinozistic mechanism; but it will be seen that the more\nthe effect seems necessarily bound up with the cause, the more we tend\nto put it in the cause itself, as a mathematical consequence in its\nprinciple, and thus to cancel the effect of duration. That under the\ninfluence of the same external conditions I do not behave to-day as I\nbehaved yesterday is not at all surprising, because I _change,_ because\nI _endure._ But things considered apart from our perception do not\nseem to endure; and the more thoroughly we examine this idea, the more\nabsurd it seems to us to suppose that the same cause should not produce\nto-day the effect which it produced yesterday. We certainly feel,\nit is true, that although things do not endure as we do ourselves,\nnevertheless there must be some reason why phenomena are seen to\n_succeed_ one another instead of being set out all at once. And this\nis why the notion of causality, although it gets indefinitely near\nthat of identity, will never seem to us to coincide with it, unless we\nconceive clearly the idea of a mathematical mechanism or unless some\nsubtle metaphysics removes our very legitimate scruples on the point.\nIt is no less obvious that our belief in the necessary determination of\nphenomena by one another becomes stronger in proportion as we are more\ninclined to regard duration as a subjective form of our consciousness.\nIn other words, the more we tend to set up the causal relation as a\nrelation of necessary determination, the more we assert thereby that\nthings do not _endure_ like ourselves. This amounts to saying that the\nmore we strengthen the principle of causality, the more we emphasize\nthe difference between a physical series and a psychical one. Whence,\nfinally, it would result (however paradoxical the opinion may seem)\nthat the assumption of a relation of mathematical inherence between\nexternal phenomena ought to bring with it, as a natural or at least as\na plausible consequence, the belief in human free will. But this last\nconsequence will not concern us for the moment: we are merely trying\nhere to trace out the first meaning of the word causality, and we\nthink we have shown that the prefiguring of the future in the present\nis easily conceived under a mathematical form, thanks to a certain\nconception of duration which, without seeming to be so, is fairly\nfamiliar to common sense.\n\n[Sidenote: Prefiguring, as having an idea of a future act which\nwe cannot realize without effort, does not involve necessary\ndetermination.]\n\nBut there is a prefiguring of another kind, still more familiar to our\nmind, because immediate prefiguring, as consciousness gives us the type\nof it. We go, in fact, through successive states of consciousness, and\nalthough the later was not contained in the earlier, we had before us\nat the time a more or less confused idea of it. The actual realization\nof this idea, however, did not appear as certain but merely as\npossible. Yet, between the idea and the action, some hardly perceptible\nintermediate processes come in, the whole mass of which takes for us a\nform _sui generis,_ which is called the feeling of effort. And from the\nidea to the effort, from the effort to the act, the progress has been\nso continuous that we cannot say where the idea and the effort end,\nand where the act begins. Hence we see that in a certain sense we may\nstill say here that the future was prefigured in the present; but it\nmust be added that this prefiguring is very imperfect, since the future\naction of which we have the present idea is conceived as realizable\nbut not as realized, and since, even when we plan the effort necessary\nto accomplish it, we feel that there is still time to stop. If, then,\nwe decide to picture the causal relation in this second form, we can\nassert _a priori_ that there will no longer be a relation of necessary\ndetermination between the cause and the effect, for the effect will\nno longer be given in the cause. It will be there only in the state of\npure possibility and as a vague idea which perhaps will not be followed\nby the corresponding action. But we shall not be surprised that this\napproximation is enough for common sense if we think of the readiness\nwith which children and primitive people accept the idea of a whimsical\nNature, in which caprice plays a part no less important than necessity.\nNay, this way of conceiving causality will be more easily understood\nby the general run of people, since it does not demand any effort of\nabstraction and only implies a certain analogy between the outer and\nthe inner world, between the succession of objective phenomena and that\nof our subjective states.\n\n[Sidenote: This second conception of causality leads to Leibniz as the\nfirst led to Spinoza.]\n\nIn truth, this second way of conceiving the relation of cause to effect\nis more natural than the first in that it immediately satisfies the\nneed of a mental image. If we look for the phenomenon B within the\nphenomenon A, which regularly precedes it, the reason is that the habit\nof associating the two images ends in giving us the idea of the second\nphenomenon wrapped up, as it were, in that of the first. It is natural,\nthen, that we should push this objectification to its furthest limit\nand that we should make the phenomenon A itself into a psychic state,\nin which the phenomenon B is supposed to be contained as a very vague\nidea. We simply suppose, thereby, that the objective connexion of the\ntwo phenomena resembles the subjective association which suggested the\nidea of it to us. The qualities of things are thus set up as actual\n_states,_ somewhat analogous to those of our own self; the material\nuniverse is credited with a vague personality which is diffused\nthrough space and which, although not exactly endowed with a conscious\nwill, is led on from one state to another by an inner impulse, a\nkind of effort. Such was ancient hylozoism, a half-hearted and even\ncontradictory hypothesis, which left matter its extensity although\nattributing to it real conscious states, and which spread the qualities\nof matter throughout extensity while treating these qualities as inner\ni.e. simple states. It was reserved for Leibniz to do away with this\ncontradiction and to show that, if the succession of external qualities\nor phenomena is understood as the succession of our own ideas, these\nqualities must be regarded as simple states or perceptions, and the\nmatter which supports them as an unextended monad, analogous to our\nsoul. But, if such be the case, the successive states of matter cannot\nbe perceived from the outside any more than our own psychic states;\nthe hypothesis of pre-established harmony must be introduced in order\nto explain how these inner states are representative of one another.\nThus, with our second conception of the relation of causality we reach\nLeibniz, as with the first we reached Spinoza. And in both cases we\nmerely push to their extreme limit or formulate with greater precision\ntwo half-hearted and confused ideas of common sense.\n\n[Sidenote: It does not involve necessary determination.]\n\nNow it is obvious that the relation of causality, understood in this\nsecond way, does not involve the necessary determination of the effect\nby the cause. History indeed proves it. We see ancient hylozoism,\nthe first outcome of this conception of causality, explained the\nregular succession of causes and effects by a real _deus ex machina_:\nsometimes it was a Necessity external to things and hovering over them,\nsometimes an inner Reason acting by rules somewhat similar to those\nwhich govern our own conduct. Nor do the perceptions of Leibniz's monad\nnecessitate one another; God has to regulate their order in advance.\nIn fact, Leibniz's determinism does not spring from his conception\nof the monad, but from the fact that he builds up the universe with\nmonads only. Having denied all mechanical influence of substances\non one another, he had to explain how it happens that their states\ncorrespond. Hence a determinism which arises from the necessity of\npositing a pre-established harmony, and not at all from the dynamic\nconception of the relation of causality. But let us leave history\naside. Consciousness itself testifies that the abstract idea of force\nis that of indeterminate effort, that of an effort which has not yet\nissued in an act and in which the act is still only at the stage of an\nidea. In other words, the dynamic conception of the causal relation\nascribes to things a duration absolutely like our own, whatever may be\nthe nature of this duration; to picture in this way the relation of\ncause to effect is to assume that the future is not more closely bound\nup with the present in the external world than it is in our own inner\nlife.\n\n[Sidenote: Each of these contradictory interpretations of causality and\nduration by itself safeguards freedom; taken together they destroy it.]\n\nIt follows from this twofold analysis that the principle of causality\ninvolves two contradictory conceptions of duration, two mutually\nexclusive ways of prefiguring the future in the present. Sometimes\nall phenomena, physical or psychical, are pictured as _enduring_ in\nthe same way, and therefore in the way that _we_ do: in this case the\nfuture will exist in the present only as an idea, and the passing from\nthe present to the future will take the form of an effort which does\nnot always lead to the realization of the idea conceived. Sometimes,\non the other hand, duration is regarded as the characteristic form\nof conscious states; in this case, things are no longer supposed to\n_endure_ as we do, and a mathematical pre-existence of their future\nin their present is admitted. Now, each of these two hypotheses, when\ntaken by itself, safeguards human freedom; for the first would lead\nto the result that even the phenomena of nature were contingent, and\nthe second, by attributing the necessary determination of physical\nphenomena to the fact that things do not _endure_ as we do, invites\nus to regard the self which is subject to duration as a free force.\nTherefore, every clear conception of causality, where we know our own\nmeaning, leads to the idea of human freedom as a natural consequence.\nUnfortunately, the habit has grown up of taking the principle of\ncausality in both senses at the same time, because the one is more\nflattering to our imagination and the other is more favourable to\nmathematical reasoning. Sometimes we think particularly of the regular\n_succession_ of physical phenomena and of the kind of inner effort by\nwhich one _becomes_ another; sometimes we fix our mind on the absolute\n_regularity_ of these phenomena, and from the idea of regularity we\npass by imperceptible steps to that of mathematical necessity, which\nexcludes duration understood in the first way. And we do not see any\nharm in letting these two conceptions blend into one another, and\nin assigning greater importance to the one or the other according\nas we are more or less concerned with the interests of science. But\nto apply the principle of causality, in this ambiguous form, to the\nsuccession of conscious states, is uselessly and wantonly to run into\ninextricable difficulties. The idea of force, which really excludes\nthat of necessary determination, has got into the habit, so to speak,\nof amalgamating with that of necessity, in consequence of the very\nuse which we make of the principle of causality in nature. On the one\nhand, we know force only through the witness of consciousness, and\nconsciousness does not assert, does not even understand, the absolute\ndetermination, now, of actions that are still to come: that is all that\nexperience teaches us, and if we hold by experience we should say that\nwe feel ourselves free, that we perceive force, rightly or wrongly,\nas a free spontaneity. But, on the other hand, this idea of force,\ncarried over into nature, travelling there side by side with the idea\nof necessity, has got corrupted before it returns from the journey. It\nreturns impregnated with the idea of necessity: and in the light of\nthe r\u00f4le which we have made it play in the external world, we regard\nforce as determining with strict necessity the effects which flow from\nit. Here again the mistake made by consciousness arises from the fact\nthat it looks at the self, not directly, but by a kind of refraction\nthrough the forms which it has lent to external perception, and which\nthe latter does not give back without having left its mark on them.\nA compromise, as it were, has been brought about between the idea\nof force and that of necessary determination. The wholly mechanical\ndetermination of two external phenomena by one another now assumes in\nour eyes the same form as the dynamic relation of our exertion of force\nto the act which springs from it: but, in return, this latter relation\ntakes the form of a mathematical derivation, the human action being\nsupposed to issue mechanically, and therefore necessarily, from the\nforce which produces it. There is no doubt that this mingling of two\ndifferent and almost opposite ideas offers advantages to common sense,\nsince it enables us to picture in the same way, and denote by one and\nthe same word, both the relation which exists between two moments\nof our life and that which binds together the successive moments of\nthe external world. We have seen that, though our deepest conscious\nstates exclude numerical multiplicity, yet we break them up into\nparts external to one another; that though the elements of concrete\nduration permeate one another, duration expressing itself in extensity\nexhibits moments as distinct as the bodies scattered in space. Is it\nsurprising, then, that between the moments of our life, when it has\nbeen, so to speak, objectified, we set up a relation analogous to the\nobjective relation of causality, and that an exchange, which again may\nbe compared to the phenomenon of endosmosis, takes place between the\ndynamic idea of free effort and the mathematical concept of necessary\ndetermination?\n\n[Sidenote: Though united in popular thought, the ideas of free effort\nand necessary determination are kept apart by physical science.]\n\nBut the sundering of these two ideas is an accomplished fact in the\nnatural sciences. The physicist may speak of _forces,_ and even picture\ntheir mode of action by analogy with an inner effort, but he will\nnever introduce this hypothesis into a scientific explanation. Even\nthose who, with Faraday, replace the extended atoms by dynamic points,\nwill treat the centres of force and the lines of force mathematically,\nwithout troubling about force itself considered as an activity or an\neffort. It thus comes to be understood that the relation of external\ncausality is purely mathematical, and has no resemblance to the\nrelation between psychical force and the act which springs from it.\n\n[Sidenote: They should be kept apart too by psychology.]\n\nIt is now time to add that the relation of inner causality is purely\ndynamic, and has no analogy with the relation of two external phenomena\nwhich condition one another. For as the latter are capable of recurring\nin a homogeneous space, their relation can be expressed in terms of a\nlaw, whereas deep-seated psychic states occur once in consciousness\nand will never occur again. A careful analysis of the psychological\nphenomenon led us to this conclusion in the beginning: the study of the\nnotions of causality and duration, viewed in themselves, has merely\nconfirmed it.\n\n[Sidenote: Freedom real but indefineable.]\n\nWe can now formulate our conception of freedom. Freedom is the relation\nof the concrete self to the act which it performs. This relation is\nindefinable, just because we _are_ free. For we can analyse a thing,\nbut not a process; we can break up extensity, but not duration. Or,\nif we persist in analysing it, we unconsciously transform the process\ninto a thing and duration into extensity. By the very fact of breaking\nup concrete time we set out its moments in homogeneous space; in place\nof the doing we put the already done; and, as we have begun by, so\nto speak, stereotyping the activity of the self, we see spontaneity\nsettle down into inertia and freedom into necessity. Thus, any positive\ndefinition of freedom will ensure the victory of determinism.\n\nShall we define the free act by saying of this act, when it is once\ndone, that it might have been left undone? But this assertion, as also\nits opposite, implies the idea of an absolute equivalence between\nconcrete duration and its spatial symbol: and as soon as we admit this\nequivalence, we are led on, by the very development of the formula\nwhich we have just set forth, to the most rigid determinism.\n\nShall we define the free act as \"that which could not be foreseen, even\nwhen all the conditions were known in advance?\" But to conceive all the\nconditions as given, is, when dealing with concrete duration, to place\noneself at the very moment at which the act is being performed. Or else\nit is admitted that the matter of psychic duration can be pictured\nsymbolically in advance, which amounts, as we said, to treating time\nas a homogeneous medium, and to reasserting in new words the absolute\nequivalence of duration with its symbol. A closer study of this second\ndefinition of freedom will thus bring us once more to determinism.\n\nShall we finally define the free act by saying that it is not\nnecessarily determined by its cause? But either these words lose their\nmeaning or we understand by them that the same inner causes will not\nalways call forth the same effects. We admit, then, that the psychic\nantecedents of a free act can be repeated, that freedom is displayed\nin a duration whose moments resemble one another, and that time is a\nhomogeneous medium, like space. We shall thus be brought back to the\nidea of an equivalence between duration and its spatial symbol; and by\npressing the definition of freedom which we have laid down, we shall\nonce more get determinism out of it.\n\nTo sum up; every demand for explanation in regard to freedom comes\nback, without our suspecting it, to the following question: \"Can time\nbe adequately represented by space?\" To which we answer: Yes, if you\nare dealing with time flown; No, if you speak of time flowing. Now, the\nfree act takes place in time which is flowing and not in time which has\nalready flown. Freedom is therefore a fact, and among the facts which\nwe observe there is none clearer. All the difficulties of the problem,\nand the problem itself, arise from the desire to endow duration with\nthe same attributes as extensity, to interpret a succession by a\nsimultaneity, and to express the idea of freedom in a language into\nwhich it is obviously untranslatable.\n\n\n\n\nCONCLUSION\n\n\n[Sidenote: Modern psychology holds hat we perceive things through forms\nborrowed from our own constitution.]\n\nTo sum up the foregoing discussion, we shall put aside for the present\nKant's terminology and also his doctrine, to which we shall return\nlater, and we shall take the point of view of common sense. Modern\npsychology seems to us particularly concerned to prove that we perceive\nthings through the medium of certain forms, borrowed from our own\nconstitution. This tendency has become more and more marked since Kant:\nwhile the German philosopher drew a sharp line of separation between\ntime and space, the extensive and the intensive, and, as we should say\nto-day, consciousness and external perception, the empirical school,\ncarrying analysis still further, tries to reconstruct the extensive out\nof the intensive, space out of duration, and externality out of inner\nstates. Physics, moreover, comes in to complete the work of psychology\nin this respect: it shows that, if we wish to forecast phenomena,\nwe must make a clean sweep of the impression which they produce on\nconsciousness and treat sensations as signs of reality, not as reality\nitself.\n\n[Sidenote: But are not the states of the self perceived through forms\nborrowed from the external world?]\n\nIt seemed to us that there was good reason to set ourselves the\nopposite problem and to ask whether the most obvious states of the\nego itself, which we believe that we grasp directly, are not mostly\nperceived through the medium of certain forms borrowed from the\nexternal world, which thus gives us back what we have lent it. _A\npriori_ it seems fairly probable that this is what happens. For,\nassuming that the forms alluded to, into which we fit matter, come\nentirely from the mind, it seems difficult to apply them constantly to\nobjects without the latter soon leaving a mark on them: by then using\nthese forms to gain a knowledge of our own person we run the risk of\nmistaking for the colouring of the self the reflection of the frame\nin which we place it, i.e. the external world. But one can go further\nstill and assert that forms applicable to things cannot be entirely our\nown work, that they must result from a compromise between matter and\nmind, that if we give much to matter we probably receive something from\nit, and that thus, when we try to grasp ourselves after an excursion\ninto the external world, we no longer have our hands free.\n\n[Sidenote: To understand the intensity, duration and voluntary\ndetermination of psychic states, we must eliminate the idea of space.]\n\nNow just as, in order to ascertain the real relations of physical\nphenomena to one another, we abstract whatever obviously clashes with\nthem in our way of perceiving and thinking, so, in order to view the\nself in its original purity, psychology ought to eliminate or correct\ncertain forms which bear the obvious mark of the external world. What\nare these forms? When isolated from one another and regarded as so many\ndistinct units, psychic states seem to be more or less _intense._ Next,\nlooked at in their multiplicity, they unfold in time and constitute\n_duration._ Finally, in their relations to one another, and in so\nfar as a certain unity is preserved throughout their multiplicity,\nthey seem to _determine_ one another. Intensity, duration, voluntary\ndetermination, these are the three ideas which had to be clarified by\nridding them of all that they owe to the intrusion of the sensible\nworld and, in a word, to the obsession of the idea of space.\n\n[Sidenote: Intensity is quality and not quantity or magnitude.]\n\nExamining the first of these ideas, we found that psychic phenomena\nwere in themselves pure quality or qualitative multiplicity, and that,\non the other hand, their cause situated in space was quantity. In so\nfar as this quality becomes the sign of the quantity and we suspect\nthe presence of the latter behind the former, we call it intensity.\nThe intensity of a simple state, therefore, is not quantity but its\nqualitative sign. You will find that it arises from a compromise\nbetween pure quality, which is the state of consciousness, and pure\nquantity, which is necessarily space. Now you give up this compromise\nwithout the least scruple when you study external things, since you\nthen leave aside the forces themselves, assuming that they exist,\nand consider only their measurable and extended effects. Why, then,\ndo you keep to this hybrid concept when you analyse in its turn the\nstate of consciousness? If magnitude, outside you, is never intensive,\nintensity, within you, is never magnitude. It is through having\noverlooked this that philosophers have been compelled to distinguish\ntwo kinds of quantity, the one extensive, the other intensive, without\never succeeding in explaining what they had in common or how the\nsame words \"increase\" and \"decrease\" could be used for things so\nunlike. In the same way they are responsible for the exaggerations of\npsychophysics, for as soon as the power of increasing in magnitude\nis attributed to sensation in any other than a metaphorical sense,\nwe are invited to find out by how much it increases. And, although\nconsciousness does not measure intensive quantity, it does not follow\nthat science may not succeed indirectly in doing so, if it be a\nmagnitude. Hence, either a psychophysical formula is possible or the\nintensity of a simple psychic state is pure quality.\n\n[Sidenote: Our conscious states not a discreet multiplicity.]\n\nTurning then to the concept of multiplicity, we saw that to construct a\nnumber we must first have the intuition of a homogeneous medium, viz.\nspace, in which terms distinct from one another could be set out in\nline, and, secondly, a process of permeation and organization by which\nthese units are dynamically added together and form what we called a\nqualitative multiplicity. It is owing to this dynamic process that\nthe units _get added,_ but it is because of their presence in space\nthat they remain _distinct._ Hence number or discrete multiplicity\nalso results from a compromise. Now, when we consider material objects\nin themselves, we give up this compromise, since we regard them as\nimpenetrable and divisible, i.e. endlessly distinct from one another.\nTherefore, we must give it up, too, when we study our own selves. It\nis through having failed to do so that associationism has made many\nmistakes, such as trying to reconstruct a psychic state by the addition\nof distinct states of consciousness, thus substituting the symbol of\nthe ego for the ego itself.\n\nThese preliminary considerations enabled us to approach the principal\nobject of this work, the analysis of the ideas of duration and\nvoluntary determination.\n\n[Sidenote: Inner duration is a qualitative multiplicity.]\n\nWhat is duration within us? A qualitative multiplicity, with no\nlikeness to number; an organic evolution which is yet not an increasing\nquantity; a pure heterogeneity within which there are no distinct\nqualities. In a word, the moments of inner duration are not external to\none another.\n\n[Sidenote: In the external we find not duration but simultaneity.]\n\nWhat duration is there existing outside us? The present only, or, if we\nprefer the expression, simultaneity. No doubt external things change,\nbut their moments do not _succeed_ one another, if we retain the\nordinary meaning of the word, except for a consciousness which keeps\nthem in mind. We observe outside us at a given moment a whole system\nof simultaneous positions; of the simultaneities which have preceded\nthem nothing remains. To put duration in space is really to contradict\noneself and place succession within simultaneity. Hence we must not\nsay that external things _endure,_ but rather that there is in them\nsome inexpressible reason in virtue of which we cannot examine them at\nsuccessive moments of our own duration without observing that they have\nchanged. But this change does not involve succession unless the word is\ntaken in a new meaning: on this point we have noted the agreement of\nscience and common sense.\n\nThus in consciousness we find states which succeed, without being\ndistinguished from one another; and in space simultaneities which,\nwithout succeeding, are distinguished from one another, in the sense\nthat one has ceased to exist when the other appears. Outside us, mutual\nexternality without succession; within us, succession without mutual\nexternality.\n\n[Sidenote: The idea of a measurable time arises from compromise between\nideas of succession and externality.]\n\nHere again a compromise comes in. To the simultaneities, which\nconstitute the external world, and, although distinct, succeed\none another _for our consciousness,_ we attribute succession _in\nthemselves._ Hence the idea that things _endure_ as we do ourselves\nand that time may be brought within space. But while our consciousness\nthus introduces succession into external things, inversely these things\nthemselves externalize the successive moments of our inner duration\nin relation to one another. The simultaneities of physical phenomena,\nabsolutely distinct in the sense that the one has ceased to be when\nthe other takes place, cut up into portions, which are also distinct\nand external to one another, an inner life in which succession implies\ninterpenetration, just as the pendulum of a clock cuts up into distinct\nfragments and spreads out, so to speak, lengthwise, the dynamic and\nundivided tension of the spring. Thus, by a real process of endosmosis\nwe get the mixed idea of a measurable time, which is space in so far as\nit is homogeneity, and duration in so far as it is succession, that is\nto say, at bottom, the contradictory idea of succession in simultaneity.\n\n[Sidenote: As science eliminates duration from the outer, philosophy\nmust eliminate space from the inner world.]\n\nNow, these two elements, extensity and duration, science tears asunder\nwhen it undertakes the close study of external things. For we have\npointed out that science retains nothing of duration but simultaneity,\nand nothing of motion itself position of the moving body, i.e.\nimmobility. A very sharp separation is here made and space gets the\nbest of it.\n\nTherefore the same separation will have to be made again, but this time\nto the advantage of duration, when inner phenomena are studied,--not\ninner phenomena once developed, to be sure, or after the discursive\nreason has separated them and set them out in a homogeneous medium in\norder to understand them, but inner phenomena in their developing, and\nin so far as they make up, by their interpenetration, the continuous\nevolution of a free person. Duration, thus restored to its original\npurity, will appear as a wholly qualitative multiplicity, an absolute\nheterogeneity of elements which pass over into one another.\n\n[Sidenote: The neglect to separate extensity and duration leads one\nparty to deny freedom and the other to define it.]\n\nNow it is because they have neglected to make this necessary separation\nthat one party has been led to deny freedom and the other to define it,\nand thereby, involuntarily, to deny it too. They ask in fact whether\nthe act could or could not be foreseen, the whole of its conditions\nbeing given; and whether they assert it or deny it, they admit that\nthis totality of conditions could be conceived as given in advance:\nwhich amounts, as we have shown, to treating duration as a homogeneous\nthing and intensities as magnitudes. They will either say that the\nact is _determined_ by its conditions, without perceiving that they\nare playing on the double sense of the word causality, and that\nthey are thus giving to duration at the same time two forms which\nare mutually exclusive. Or else they will appeal to the principle of\nthe conservation of energy, without asking whether this principle is\nequally applicable to the moments of the external world, which are\nequivalent to one another, and to the moments of a living and conscious\nbeing, which acquire a richer and richer content. In whatever way, in\na word, freedom is viewed, it cannot be denied except on condition of\nidentifying time with space; it cannot be defined except on condition\nof demanding that space should adequately represent time; it cannot\nbe argued about in one sense or the other except on condition of\npreviously confusing succession and simultaneity. All determinism will\nthus be refuted by experience, but every attempt to define freedom will\nopen the way to determinism.\n\n[Sidenote: This separation favourable to physical science, but against\nthe interests of language and social life.]\n\nInquiring then why this separation of duration and extensity, which\nscience carries out so naturally in the external world, demands such\nan effort and rouses so much repugnance when it is a question of inner\nstates, we were not long in perceiving the reason. The main object of\nscience is to forecast and measure: now we cannot forecast physical\nphenomena except on condition that we assume that they do not _endure_\nas we do; and, on the other hand, the only thing we are able to measure\nis space. Hence the breach here comes about of itself between quality\nand quantity, between true duration and pure extensity. But when we\nturn to our conscious states, we have everything to gain by keeping\nup the illusion through which we make them share in the reciprocal\nexternality of outer things, because this distinctness, and at the\nsame time this solidification, enables us to give them fixed names\nin spite of their instability, and distinct ones in spite of their\ninterpenetration. It enables us to objectify them, to throw them out\ninto the current of social life.\n\n[Sidenote: Hence two different selves: (1) the fundamental self; (2)\nits spatial and social representation: only the former is free.]\n\nHence there are finally two different selves, one of which is, as\nit were, the external projection of the other, its spatial and,\nso to speak, social representation. We reach the former by deep\nintrospection, which leads us to grasp our inner states as living\nthings, constantly _becoming,_ as states not amenable to measure,\nwhich permeate one another and of which the succession in duration has\nnothing in common with juxtaposition in homogeneous space. But the\nmoments at which we thus grasp ourselves are rare, and that is just\nwhy we are rarely free. The greater part of the time we live outside\nourselves, hardly perceiving anything of ourselves but our own ghost, a\ncolourless shadow which pure duration projects into homogeneous space.\nHence our life unfolds in space rather than in time; we live for the\nexternal world rather than for ourselves; we speak rather than think;\nwe \"are acted\" rather than act ourselves. To act freely is to recover\npossession of oneself, and to get back into pure duration.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Kant clung to freedom, but put the self which is free\noutside both space and time.]\n\nKant's great mistake was to take time as a homogeneous medium. He did\nnot notice that real duration is made up of moments inside one another,\nand that when it seems to assume the form of a homogeneous whole, it\nis because it gets expressed in space. Thus the very distinction which\nhe makes between space and time amounts at bottom to confusing time\nwith space, and the symbolical representation of the ego with the ego\nitself. He thought that consciousness was incapable of perceiving\npsychic states otherwise than by juxtaposition, forgetting that a\nmedium in which these states are set side by side and distinguished\nfrom one another is of course space, and not duration. He was thereby\nled to believe that the same states can recur in the depths of\nconsciousness, just as the same physical phenomena are repeated in\nspace; this at least is what he implicitly admitted when he ascribed to\nthe causal relation the same meaning and the same function in the inner\nas in the outer world. Thus freedom was made into an incomprehensible\nfact. And yet, owing to his unlimited though unconscious confidence\nin this inner perception whose scope he tried to restrict, his belief\nin freedom remained unshakable. He therefore raised it to the sphere\nof noumena; and as he had confused duration with space, he made this\ngenuine free self, which is indeed outside space, into a self which is\nsupposed to be outside duration too, and therefore out of the reach\nof our faculty of knowledge. But the truth is that we perceive this\nself whenever, by a strenuous effort of reflection, we turn our eyes\nfrom the shadow which follows us and retire into ourselves. Though we\ngenerally live and act outside our own person, in space rather than\nin duration, and though by this means we give a handle to the law of\ncausality, which binds the same effects to the same causes, we can\nnevertheless always get back into pure duration, of which the moments\nare internal and heterogeneous to one another, and in which a cause\ncannot repeat its effect since it will never repeat itself.\n\n[Sidenote: Kant regarded both space and time as homogeneous.]\n\nIn this very confusion of true duration with its symbol both the\nstrength and the weakness of Kantianism reside. Kant imagines on the\none side \"things in themselves,\" and on the other a homogeneous Time\nand Space, through which the \"things in themselves,\" are refracted:\nthus are supposed to arise on the one hand the phenomenal self--a self\nwhich consciousness perceives--and, on the other, external objects.\nTime and space on this view would not be any more in us than outside\nus; the very distinction of outside and inside would be the work of\ntime and space. This doctrine has the advantage of providing our\nempirical thought with a solid foundation, and of guaranteeing that\nphenomena, as phenomena, are adequately knowable. Indeed, we might set\nup these phenomena as absolute and do without the incomprehensible\n\"things in themselves,\" were it not that the Practical Reason, the\nrevealer of duty, came in, like the Platonic reminiscence, to warn\nus that the \"thing in itself\" exists, invisible but present. The\ncontrolling factor in the whole of this theory is the very sharp\ndistinction between the matter of consciousness and its form, between\nthe homogeneous and the heterogeneous, and this vital distinction would\nprobably never have been made unless time also had been regarded as a\nmedium indifferent to what fills it.\n\n[Sidenote: But if time, as duration, were homogeneous, science could\ndeal with it.]\n\nBut if time, as immediate consciousness perceives it, were, like space,\na homogeneous medium, science would be able to deal with it, as it can\nwith space. Now we have tried to prove that duration, as duration, and\nmotion, as motion, elude the grasp of mathematics: of time everything\nslips through its fingers but simultaneity, and of movement everything\nbut immobility. This is what the Kantians and even their opponents\ndo not seem to have perceived: in this so-called phenomenal world,\nwhich, we are told, is a world cut out for scientific knowledge, all\nthe relations which cannot be translated into simultaneity, i.e. into\nspace, are scientifically unknowable.\n\n[Sidenote: And freedom would be incomprehensible. Kant's solution.]\n\nIn the second place, in a duration assumed to be homogeneous, the\nsame states could occur over again, causality would imply necessary\ndetermination, and all freedom would become incomprehensible. Such,\nindeed, is the result to which the Critique of Pure Reason leads. But\ninstead of concluding from this that real duration is heterogeneous,\nwhich, by clearing up the second difficulty, would have called his\nattention to the first, Kant preferred to put freedom outside time and\nto raise an impassable barrier between the world of phenomena, which\nhe hands over root and branch to our understanding, and the world of\nthings in themselves, which he forbids us to enter.\n\n[Sidenote: How corrected by taking real duration into account.]\n\nBut perhaps this distinction is too sharply drawn and perhaps the\nbarrier is easier to cross than he supposed. For if perchance the\nmoments of real duration, perceived by an attentive consciousness,\npermeated one another instead of lying side by side, and if these\nmoments formed in relation to one another a heterogeneity within which\nthe idea of necessary determination lost every shred of meaning, then\nthe self grasped by consciousness would be a free cause, we should have\nabsolute knowledge of ourselves, and, on the other hand, just because\nthis absolute constantly commingles with phenomena and, while filling\nitself with them, permeates them, these phenomena themselves would not\nbe as amenable as is claimed to mathematical reasoning,\n\n[Sidenote: With Kant, we assume a homogeneous space, the intuition of\nwhich is peculiar to man and prepares the way for social life.]\n\nSo we have assumed the existence of a homogeneous Space and, with\nKant, distinguished this space from the matter which fills it.\nWith him we have admitted that homogeneous space is a \"form of our\nsensibility\": and we understand by this simply that other minds, e.g.\nthose of animals, social life, although they perceive objects, do not\ndistinguish them so clearly either from one another or from themselves.\nThis intuition of a homogeneous medium, an intuition peculiar to man,\nenables us to externalize our concepts in relation to one another,\nreveals to us the objectivity of things, and thus, in two ways, on the\none hand by getting everything ready for language, and on the other by\nshowing us an external world, quite distinct from ourselves, in the\nperception of which all minds have a common share, foreshadows and\nprepares the way for social life.\n\n[Sidenote: But if concrete duration is heterogeneous, the relation of\npsychic state to act is unique and the act is rightly judged free.]\n\nOver against this homogeneous space we have put the self as perceived\nby an attentive consciousness, a living self, whose states, at once\nundistinguished and unstable, cannot _be_ separated without changing\ntheir nature, and cannot receive a fixed form or be expressed in\nwords without becoming public property. How could this self, which\ndistinguishes external objects so sharply and represents them so easily\nby means of symbols, withstand the temptation to introduce the same\ndistinctions into its own life and to replace the interpenetration\nof its psychic states, their wholly qualitative multiplicity, by a\nnumerical plurality of terms which are distinguished from one another,\nset side by side, and expressed by means of words? In place of a\nheterogeneous duration whose moments permeate one another, we thus\nget a homogeneous time whose moments are strung on a spatial line. In\nplace of an inner life whose successive phases, each unique of its\nkind, cannot be expressed in the fixed terms of language, we get a self\nwhich can be artificially reconstructed, and simple psychic states\nwhich can be added to and taken from one another just like the letters\nof the alphabet in forming words. Now, this must not be thought to be\na mode of symbolical representation only, for immediate intuition and\ndiscursive thought are one in concrete reality, and the very mechanism\nby which we only meant at first to explain our conduct will end by\nalso controlling it. Our psychic states, separating then from each\nother, will get solidified; between our ideas, thus crystallized, and\nour external movements we shall witness permanent associations being\nformed; and little by little, as our consciousness thus imitates the\nprocess by which nervous matter procures reflex actions, automatism\nwill cover over freedom.[10] It is just at this point that the\nassociationists and the determinists come in on the one side, and the\nKantians on the other. As they look at only the commonest aspect of\nour conscious life, they perceive clearly marked states, which can\nrecur in time like physical phenomena, and to which the law of causal\ndetermination applies, if we wish, in the same sense as it does to\nnature. As, on the other hand, the medium in which these psychic states\nare set side by side exhibits parts external to one another, in which\nthe same facts seem capable of being repeated, they do not hesitate to\nmake time a homogeneous medium and treat it as space. Henceforth all\ndifference between duration and extensity, succession and simultaneity,\nis abolished: the only thing left is to turn freedom out of doors,\nor, if you cannot entirely throw off your traditional respect for it,\nto escort it with all due ceremony up to the supratemporal domain of\n\"things in themselves,\" whose mysterious threshold your consciousness\ncannot cross. But, in our view, there is a third course which might be\ntaken, namely, to carry ourselves back in thought to those moments of\nour life when we made some serious decision, moments unique of their\nkind, which will never be repeated--**any more than the past phases\nin the history of a nation will ever come back again. We should see\nthat if these past states cannot be adequately expressed in words or\nartificially reconstructed by a juxtaposition of simpler states, it is\nbecause in their dynamic unity and wholly qualitative multiplicity they\nare phases of our real and concrete duration, a heterogeneous duration\nand a living one. We should see that, if our action was pronounced by\nus to be free, it is because the relation of this action to the state\nfrom which it issued could not be expressed by a law, this psychic\nstate being unique of its kind and unable ever to occur again. We\nshould see, finally, that the very idea of necessary determination here\nloses every shred of meaning, that there cannot be any question either\nof foreseeing the act before it is performed or of reasoning about the\npossibility of the contrary action once the deed is done, for to have\nall the conditions given is, in concrete duration, to place oneself\nat the very moment of the act and not to foresee it. But we should\nalso understand the illusion which makes the one party think that they\nare compelled to deny freedom, and the others that they must define\nit. It is because the transition is made by imperceptible steps from\nconcrete duration, whose elements permeate one another, to symbolical\nduration, whose moments are set side by side, and consequently from\nfree activity to conscious automatism. It is because, although we are\nfree whenever we are willing to get back into ourselves, it seldom\nhappens that we are willing. It is because, finally, even in the\ncases where the action is freely performed, we cannot reason about it\nwithout setting out its conditions externally to one another, therefore\nin space and no longer in pure duration. The problem of freedom has\nthus sprung from a misunderstanding: it has been to the moderns what\nthe paradoxes of the Eleatics were to the ancients, and, like these\nparadoxes, it has its origin in the illusion through which we confuse\nsuccession and simultaneity, duration and extensity, quality and\nquantity.\n\n\n[1] On this point see Lange, _History of Materialism,_ Vol. ii, Part ii.\n\n[2] Cf. _Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy._5th ed., (1878),\np. 583.\n\n[3] _Ibid._ p. 585.\n\n[4] _Ibid._ p. 585.\n\n[5] _The Emotions and the Will,_ Chap. vi.\n\n[6] Fouill\u00e9e, _La Libert\u00e9 et le D\u00e9terminisme._\n\n[7] In Moli\u00e8re's comedy _Le Misanthrope, (Tr.)_.\n\n[8] _Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy._ 5th ed., (1878), p.\n580.\n\n[9] _Ibid._ p. 583.\n\n[10] of these voluntary acts which may be compared to reflex movements,\nand he has restricted freedom to moments of crisis. But he does not\nseem to have noticed that the process of our free activity goes\non, as it were, unknown to ourselves, in the obscure depths of our\nconsciousness at every moment of duration, that the very feeling of\nduration comes from this source, and that without this heterogeneous\nand continuous duration, in which our self evolves, there would be no\nmoral crisis. The study, even the close study, of a given free action\nwill thus not settle the problem of freedom. The whole series of our\nheterogeneous states of consciousness must be taken into consideration.\nIn other words, it is in a close analysis of the idea of duration that\nthe key to the problem must be sought.","title":"Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":66228}