(I)

(1) We can, I think, distinguish pretty clearly at least one kind of relation which sensibles, of all the kinds I have mentioned, do undoubtedly sometimes have to our minds.

I do now see certain blackish marks on a whitish ground, and I hear certain sounds which I attribute to the ticking of my clock. In both cases I have to certain sensibles—certain blackish marks, in the one case, and certain sounds, in the other—a kind of relation with which we are all perfectly familiar, and which may be expressed, in the one case, by saying that I actually see the marks, and in the other, by saying that I actually hear the sounds. It seems to me quite evident that the relation to the marks which I express by saying that I see them, is not different in kind from the relation to the sounds which I express by saying that I hear them. “Seeing” and “hearing,” when thus used as names for a relation which we may have to sensibles, are not names for different relations, but merely express the fact that, in the one case, the kind of sensible to which I have a certain kind of relation is a patch of colour, while, in the other case, the kind of sensible to which I have the same kind of relation is a sound. And similarly when I say that I feel warm or smell a smell these different verbs do not express the fact that I have a different kind of relation to the sensibles concerned, but only that I have the same kind of relation to a different kind of sensible. Even when I call up a visual image of a sensible I saw yesterday, or an auditory image of a sound I heard yesterday, I have to those images exactly the same kind of relation which I have to the patches of colour I now see and which I had yesterday to those I saw then.

But this kind of relation, which I sometimes have to sensibles of all sorts of different kinds, images as well as others, is evidently quite different in kind from another relation which I may also have to sensibles. After looking at this black mark, I may turn away my head or close my eyes, and then I no longer actually see the mark I saw just now. I may, indeed, have (I myself actually do have at this moment) a visual image of the mark before my mind; and to this image I do now have exactly the same kind of relation which I had just now to the mark itself. But the image is not identical with the mark of which it is an image; and to the mark itself it is quite certain that I have not now got the same kind of relation as I had just now, when I was actually seeing it. And yet I certainly may now have to that mark itself a kind of relation, which may be expressed by saying that I am thinking of it or remembering it. I can now make judgments about it itself-—the very sensible which I did see just now and am no longer seeing: as, for instance, that I did then see it and that it was different from the image of it which I am now seeing. It is, therefore, quite certain that there is a most important difference between the relation I have to a sensible when I am actually seeing or hearing it, and any relation (for there may be several) which I may have to the same sensible when I am only thinking of or remembering it. And I want to express this difference by using a particular term for the former relation. I shall express this relation, which I certainly do have to a sensible when I actually see or hear it, and most certainly do not have to it, when I only think of or remember it, by saying that there is in my mind a direct apprehension of it. I have expressly chosen this term because, so far as I know, it has not been used hitherto as a technical term; whereas all the terms which have been so used, such as “presented,” “given,” “perceived,” seem to me to have been spoilt by ambiguity. People sometimes, no doubt, use these terms as names for the kind of relation I am concerned with. But you can never be sure, when an entity is said to be “given” or “presented” or “perceived,” that what is meant is simply and solely that it has to someone that relation which sensibles do undoubtedly have to me when I actually see or hear them, and which they do not have to me when I only think of or remember them.

I have used the rather awkward expression “ There is in my mind a direct apprehension of this black mark,” because I want to insist that though, when I see the mark, the mark certainly has to something the fundamental relation which I wish to express by saying that it is directly apprehended, and though the event which consists in its being directly apprehended by that something is certainly a mental act of mine or which occurs in my mind, yet the something which directly apprehends it may quite possibly not be anything which deserves to be called “I” or “me.” It is quite possible, I think, that there is no entity whatever which deserves to be called “I” or “me” or “my mind”; and hence that nothing whatever is ever directly apprehended by me. Whether this is so or not, depends on the nature of that relation which certainly does hold between all those mental acts which are mine, and does not hold between any of mine and any of yours; and which holds again between all those mental acts which are yours, but does not hold between any of yours and any of mine. And I do not feel at all sure what the correct analysis of this relation is. It may be the case that the relation which unites all those acts of direct apprehension which are mine, and which is what we mean to say that they have to one another when we say they are all mine, really does consist in the fact that one and the same entity is what directly apprehends in each of them: in which case this entity could properly be called “me,” and it would be true to say that, when I see this black mark, I directly apprehend it. But it is also quite possible (and this seems to me to be the view which is commonest amongst psychologists) that the entity which directly apprehends, in those acts of direct apprehension which are mine, is numerically different in every different act; and that what I mean by calling all these different acts mine is either merely that they have some kind of relation to one another or that they all have a common relation to some other entity, external to them, which may or may not be something which deserves to be called “me.” On any such view, what I assert to be true of this black mark, when I say that it is seen by me, would not be simply that it is directly apprehended by me, but something more complex in which, besides direct apprehension, some other quite different relation was also involved. I should be asserting both (1) that the black mark is being directly apprehended by something, and (2) that this act of direct apprehension has to something else, external to it, a quite different relation, which is what makes it an act of mine. I do not know how to decide between these views, and that is why I wished to explain that the fundamental relation which I wish to call direct apprehension, is one which quite possibly never holds between me and any sensible. But, once this has been explained, I think no harm can result from using the expression “I directly apprehend A” as a synonym for “A direct apprehension of A occurs in my mind.” And in future I shall so speak, because it is much more convenient.

The only other point, which seems to me to need explanation, in order to make it quite clear what the relation I call “direct apprehension” is, concerns its relation to attention; and as to this I must confess I don’t feel clear. In every case where it is quite clear to me that I am directly apprehending a given entity, it seems also clear to me that I am, more or less, attending to it; and it seems to me possible that what I mean by “direct apprehension” may be simply identical with what is meant by “attention,” in one of the senses in which that word can be used. That it can, at most, only be identical with one of the relations meant by attention seems to me clear, because I certainly can be said to attend, in some sense or other, to entities, which I am not directly apprehending: I may, for instance, think, with attention, of a sensible, which I saw yesterday, and am certainly not seeing now. It is, therefore, clear that to say I am attending to a thing and yet am not directly apprehending it, is not a contradiction in terms: and this fact alone is sufficient to justify the use of the special term “direct apprehension.” But whether to say that I am directly apprehending a given thing and yet am not attending to it, in any degree at all, is or is not a contradiction in terms, I admit I don’t feel clear.

However that may be, one relation, in which sensibles of all sorts do sometimes stand to our minds, is the relation constituted by the fact that we directly apprehend them: or, to speak more accurately, by the fact that events which consist in their being directly apprehended are in our minds, in the sense in which to say that an event is in our minds means merely that it is a mental act of ours—that it has to our other mental acts that relation (whatever it may be) which we mean by saying that they are all mental acts of the same individual. And it is clear that to say of a sensible that it is directly apprehended by me, is to say of it something quite different from what I say of a mental act of mine, when I say that this mental act is in my mind: for nothing is more certain than that an act of direct apprehension or belief may be in my mind, without being itself directly apprehended by me. If, therefore, by saying that a sensible is in our minds or is ours, we mean merely that it is directly apprehended by us, we must recognise that we are here using the phrases “in our minds” or “ours” in quite a different sense from that in which we use them when we talk of our mental acts being “in our minds” or “ours.” And why I say this is because I think that these two relations are very apt to be confused. When, for instance, we say of a given entity that it is “experienced,” or when the Germans say that it is “erlebt,” it is sometimes meant, I think, merely that it is directly apprehended, but sometimes that it is in my mind, in the sense in which, when I entertain a belief, this act of belief is in my mind.

But (2) it seems to me to be commonly held that sensibles are often in our minds in some sense quite other than that of being directly apprehended by us or that of being thought of by us. This seems to me to be often what is meant when people say that they are “immediately experienced” or are “subjective modifications”; though, of course, both expressions are so ambiguous, that when people say that a given entity is immediately experienced or is a subjective modification, they may mean merely that it is directly apprehended. And since I think this view is held, I want to explain that I see no reason whatever for thinking that sensibles ever are experienced by us in any other sense than that of being directly apprehended by us.

Two kinds of argument, I think, are sometimes used to show that they are.

(a) It is a familiar fact that, when, for instance, we are in a room with a ticking clock, we may seem suddenly to become aware of the ticks, whereas, so far as we can tell, we had previously not heard them at all. And it may be urged that in these cases, since the same kind of stimulus was acting on our ears all the time, we must have experienced the same kind of sensible sounds, although we did not directly apprehend them.

But I think most psychologists are now agreed that this argument is quite worthless. There seem to me to be two possible alternatives to the conclusion drawn. It may, I think, possibly be the case that we did directly apprehend the ticks all the time, but that we cannot afterwards remember that we did, because the degree of attention (if any) with which we heard them was so small, that in ordinary life we should say that we did not attend to them at all. But, what, I think, is much more likely is that, though the same stimulus was acting on our ears, it failed to produce any mental effect whatever, because our attention was otherwise engaged.

(b) It is said that sometimes when we suddenly become aware, say, of the eighth stroke of a striking clock, we can remember earlier strokes, although we seem to ourselves not to have directly apprehended them. I cannot say that I have ever noticed this experience in myself, but I have no doubt that it is possible. And people seem inclined to argue that, since we can remember the earlier strokes, we must have experienced them, though we did not directly apprehend them.

But here again, the argument does not seem to me at all conclusive. I should say, again, that it is possible that we did directly apprehend them, but only with a very slight degree of attention (if any). And, as an alternative, I should urge that there is no reason why we should not be able to remember a thing, which we never experienced at all.

I do not know what other arguments can be used to show that we sometimes experience sensibles in a sense quite other than that of directly apprehending them. But I do not know how to show that we do not; and since people whose judgment I respect, seem to hold that we do, I think it is worth while to say something as to what this sense of “experience” can be, in case it does occur.

I have said that sometimes when people say that a given entity is “experienced” they seem to mean that it belongs to some individual, in the sense in which my acts of belief belong to me. To say that sensibles were experienced by me in this sense would, therefore, be to say that they sometimes have to my acts of belief and acts of direct apprehension the same relation which these have to one another—the relation which constitutes them mine. But that sensibles ever have this kind of relation to my mental acts, is a thing which I cannot believe. Those who hold that they are ever experienced at all, in some sense other than that of being directly apprehended, always hold, I think, that, whenever they are directly apprehended by us, they also, at the same time, have to us this other relation as well. And it seems to me pretty clear that when I do directly apprehend a sensible, it does not have to me the same relation which my direct apprehension of it has.

If, therefore, sensibles are ever experienced by us at all, in any sense other than that of being directly apprehended by us, we must, I think, hold that they are so in an entirely new sense, quite different both from that in which to be experienced means to be directly apprehended, and from that in which to be experienced means to occur in some individual’s mind. And I can only say that I see no reason to think that they ever are experienced in any such sense. If they are, the fact that they are so is presumably open to the inspection of us all; but I cannot distinguish any such fact as occurring in myself, as I can distinguish the fact that they are directly apprehended. On the other hand, I see no way of showing that they are not experienced in some such sense; and perhaps somebody will be able to point it out to me. I do not wish to assume, therefore, that there is no such sense; and hence, though I am inclined to think that the only sense in which they are experienced is that of being directly apprehended, I shall, in what follows, use the phrase “experienced” to mean either directly apprehended or having to something this supposed different relation, if such a relation there be.

(3) We may now, therefore, raise the question: Do sensibles ever exist at times when they are not being experienced at all?

To this question it is usual to give a negative answer, and two different a priori reasons may be urged in favour of that answer.

The first is what should be meant by Berkeley’s dictum that the esse of sensibles is percipi. This should mean, whatever else it may mean, at least this: that to suppose a sensible to exist and yet not to be experienced in self-contradictory. And this at least seems to me to be clearly false. Anything which was a patch of colour would be a sensible; and to suppose that there are patches of colour which are not being experienced is clearly not self-contradictory, however false it may be.

It may, however, be urged (and this is the second argument) that, though to suppose a thing to be a sensible and yet not experienced is not self-contradictory, yet we can clearly see that nothing can have the one property without having the other. And I do not see my way to deny that we may be able to know, a priori, that such a connection holds between two such properties. In the present case, however, I cannot see that it does hold, and therefore, so far as a priori reasons go, I conclude that there is no reason why sensibles should not exist at times when they are not experienced.

It may, however, be asked: Is there any reason to suppose that they ever do? And the reason, which weighs with me most, is one which applies, I think, to a certain class of sensibles only; a class which I will try to define by saying that it consists of those which would (under certain conditions which actually exist) be experienced in a sensation proper, if only a living body, having a certain constitution, existed under those conditions in a position in which no such body does actually exist. I think it is very probable that this definition does not define at all accurately the kind of sensibles I mean; but I think that what the definition aims at will become clearer when I proceed to give my reasons for supposing that sensibles, of a kind to be defined in some such way, do exist unexperienced. The reason is simply that, in Hume’s phrase, I have “a strong propensity to believe” that, e.g., the visual sensibles which I directly apprehend in looking at this paper, still exist unchanged when I merely alter the position of my body by turning away my head or closing my eyes, provided that the physical conditions outside my body remain unchanged. In such a case it is certainly true in some sense that I should see sensibles like what I saw the moment before, if only my head were still in the position it was at that moment or my eyes unclosed. But if, in such a case, there is reason to think that sensibles which I should see, if the position of my body were altered, exist in spite of the fact that I do not experience them, there is, I think, an equal reason to suppose it in other cases. We must, for instance, suppose that the sensibles which I should see now, if I were at the other end of the room, or if I were looking under the table, exist at this moment, though they are not being experienced. And similarly we must suppose that the sensibles which you would see, if you were in the position in which I am now, exist at this moment, in spite of the fact that they may be more or less different from those which I see, owing to the different constitution of our bodies. All this implies of course, that a vast number of sensibles exist at any moment, which are not being experienced at all. But still it implies this only with regard to sensibles of a strictly limited class, namely sensibles which would be experienced in a sensation proper, if a body, having a certain constitution, were in a position in which it is not, under the given physical conditions. It does not, for instance, imply that any images, of which it may be true that I should have them, under present physical conditions, if the position of my body were altered, exist now; nor does it imply that sensibles which would be experienced by me now in a sensation proper, if the physical conditions external to my body were different from what they are, exist now.

I feel, of course, that I have only succeeded in defining miserably vaguely the kind of sensibles I mean; and I do not know whether the fact that I have a strong propensity to believe that sensibles of a kind to be defined in some such way, do exist unexperienced, is any good reason for supposing that they actually do. The belief may, of course, be a mere prejudice. But I do not know of any certain test by which prejudices can be distinguished from reasonable beliefs. And I cannot help thinking that there may be a class of sensibles, capable of definition in some such way, which there really is reason to think exist unexperienced.

But, if I am not mistaken, there is an empirical argument which, though, even if it were sound, it would have no tendency whatever to show that no sensibles exist unexperienced, would, if it were sound, show that this very class of sensibles, to which alone my argument for unexperienced existence applies, certainly do not so exist. This, it seems to me, is the most weighty argument which can be used upon the subject; and I want, therefore, to give my reasons for thinking that it is fallacious. The argument is one which asserts that there is abundant empirical evidence in favour of the view that the existence of the sensibles which we experience at any time, always depends upon the condition of our nervous system: so that, even where it also depends upon external physical conditions, we can safely say that sensibles, which we should have experienced, if only our nervous system had been in a different condition, certainly do not exist, when it is not in that condition. And the fallacy of this argument seems to me to lie in the fact that it does not distinguish between the existence of the sensibles which we experience and the fact that we experience them. What there is evidence for is that our experience of sensibles always depends upon the condition of our nervous system; that, according as the condition of the nervous system changes, different sensibles are experienced, even where other conditions are the same. But obviously the fact that our experience of a given sensible depends upon the condition of our nervous system does not directly show that the existence of the sensible experienced always also so depends. The fact that I am now experiencing this black mark is certainly a different fact from the fact that this black mark now exists. And hence the evidence which does tend to show that the former fact would not have existed if my nervous system had been in a different condition, has no tendency to show that the latter would not have done so either. I am sure that this distinction ought to be made; and hence, though I think there may be other reasons for thinking that the very existence of the sensibles, which we experience, and not merely the fact that we experience them does always depend upon the condition of our nervous systems, it seems to me certain that this particular argument constitutes no such reason.

And I think that those who suppose that it does are apt to be influenced by an assumption, for which also, so far as I can see, there is no reason. I have admitted that the only reason I can see for supposing that sensibles which we experience ever exist unexperienced, seems to lead to the conclusion that the sensibles which would be seen by a colour-blind man, if he occupied exactly the position which I, who am not colour-blind, now occupy, exist now, just as much as those which I now see. And it may be thought that this implies that the sensibles, which he would see, and which would certainly be very different from those which I see, are nevertheless at this moment in exactly the same place as those which I see. Now, for my part, I am not prepared to admit that it is impossible they should be in the same place. But the assumption against which I wish to protest, is the assumption that, if they exist at all, they must be in the same place. I can see no reason whatever for this assumption. And hence any difficulties there may be in the way of supposing that they could be in the same place at the same time as the sensibles which I see, do not at all apply to my hypothesis, which is only that they exist now, not that they exist in the sameplace in which mine do. On this question, therefore, as to whether sensibles ever exist at times when they are not experienced, I have only to say (1) that I think there is certainly no good reason whatever for asserting that no sensibles do; and (2) that I think perhaps a certain amount of weight ought to be attached to our instinctive belief that certain kinds of sensibles do; and that here again any special arguments which may be brought forward to show that, whether some sensibles exist unexperienced or not, this kind certainly do not, are, so far as I can see, wholly inconclusive.