Part 19

I think his failure can be explained as follows. It may have been noticed that, in the passages I quoted from him, he insists in one place, that to deny that appearances exist is not merely false but _self-contradictory,_ and in another appeals to the principle that "any deliverance of consciousness is but a deliverance of consciousness" in support of his contention that what _is_ a fact need, nevertheless, _not_ be real. And the fact that he does these two things does, I think, give colour to the suggestion that the reason why he thinks that what is unreal may yet exist, and be a fact, and be, is the following. It is undoubtedly the case that, even if temporal facts are unreal, _i.e.,_ there _are_ no such things, we can and do _think of them,_ just as it is undoubtedly the case that, though unicorns are unreal, we can and do imagine them. In other words, "temporal facts" and "unicorns" are both quite certainly "deliverances of consciousness," at least in the sense that they are "objects of thought"; being "objects of thought" they are, in a wide sense, "appearances" also, and I cannot help thinking that Mr. Bradley supposes that, merely because they are so, they _must_ at least BE. "How" (I imagine he would ask) "can a thing 'appear' or even 'be thought of' unless it is there to appear and to be thought of? To say that it appears or is thought of, and that yet there is no such thing, is plainly self-contradictory. A thing cannot have a property, unless it is there to have it, and, since unicorns and temporal facts _do_ have the property of being thought of, there certainly must be such things. When I think of a unicorn, what I am thinking of is certainly not nothing; if it were nothing, then, when I think of a griffin, I should also be thinking of nothing, and there would be no difference between thinking of a griffin and thinking of a unicorn. But there certainly is a difference; and what can the difference be except that in the one case what I am thinking of is a unicorn, and in the other a griffin? And if the unicorn is what I am thinking of, then there certainly must _be_ a unicorn, in spite of the fact that unicorns are unreal. In other words, though in one sense of the words there certainly _are_ no unicorns--that sense, namely, in which to assert that there are would be equivalent to asserting that unicorns are real--yet there _must_ be _some_ other sense in which there _are_ such things; since, _if_ there were not, we could not think of them."

Perhaps, it may be thought that the fallacy involved in this argument is too gross for it to be possible that Mr. Bradley should have been guilty of it. But there are other passages in _Appearance and Reality_--particularly what he says about Error --which look to me as if he certainly was guilty of it. I suppose it will be quite obvious to everyone here that it is a fallacy; that the fact that we can think of unicorns is not sufficient to prove that, in any sense at all, there _are_ any unicorns. Yet, I am not sure that I know myself what is _the_ mistake involved in thinking that it _is_ sufficient, and I am going, therefore, to try to put as clearly as I can, what I think it is, in the hope that somebody may be able, if I am wrong, to correct me.

The main mistake, I suppose, is the mistake of thinking that the proposition "Unicorns are thought of" is a proposition of the same form as "Lions are hunted"; or the proposition "I am thinking of a unicorn" of the same form as "I am hunting a lion"; or the proposition "Unicorns are objects of thought" of the same form as "Lions are objects of the chase." Of the second proposition in each of these three pairs, it is in fact the case that it could not be true unless there were lions--at least one. Each of them does, in fact, assert both with regard to a certain property--which we will call that of "being a lion"--that there _are_ things which possess it, and also with regard to another--that of being hunted--that some of the things which possess the former possess this property too. But it is obvious enough to common sense that the same is by no means true of the _first_ proposition in each pair, in spite of the fact that their grammatical expression shows no trace of the difference. It is perfectly obvious that if I say "I am thinking of a unicorn,"

I am not saying both that there is a unicorn and that I am thinking of it, although, if I say "I am hunting a lion," I am saying both that there is a lion, and that I am hunting it. In the former case,

I am _not_ asserting that the two properties of being a unicorn and of being thought of by me both belong to one and the same thing; whereas, in the latter case, I am asserting that the two properties of being a lion and of being hunted by me _do_ belong to one and the same thing. It is quite clear that there is _in fact_, this difference between the two propositions; although no trace of it appears in their verbal expression. And why we should use the same form of verbal expression to convey such different meanings is more than I can say. It seems to me very curious that language, in this, as in the other instance which we have just considered of "Lions are real" and "Lions are mammalian," should have grown up just as if it were expressly designed to mislead philosophers; and I do not know why it should have. Yet, it seems to me there is no doubt that in ever so many instances it has. Moreover, _exactly_ what _is_ meant by saying "I am thinking of a unicorn" is not by any means clear to me. I think we can assert at least this: In order that this proposition should be true, it is necessary (1) that I should be conceiving, with regard to a certain property, the hypothesis that there Is something which possesses it, and (2) that the property in question should be such that, if anything did possess it there would be a unicorn. Although this is plainly true, it does not give us completely what is _meant_ by the statement, "I am thinking of a unicorn"; and I do not know what the complete meaning is. It is certainly _not_ that I am conceiving with regard to the property of "being a unicorn," that there is something which possesses it; since I may be thinking of a unicorn, without ever having conceived the property of "being a unicorn" at all. Whatever it does mean, the point which concerns us is that it is certainly _not_ necessary for its truth, that the property of being a unicorn should, in fact, belong to anything whatever, or, therefore, that there should in any sense whatever _be_ a unicorn. And the fallacy I am attributing to Mr. Bradley is that of supposing that, _in some sense,_ it must imply this latter.

This, then, is what I imagine to be at least one of the reasons which have led Mr. Bradley to suppose that the proposition "Time is unreal," _must_ be consistent with the proposition "There _is_ such a thing as Time." Put shortly, it is that he sees (what is perfectly true) that "Time is unreal" _must_ be consistent with "We do think of Time;" he thinks (falsely) that "We _do_ think of Time" must imply, in some sense, "There _is_ such a thing as Time;" and finally, infers (correctly) from this true and this false premiss, that there _must_ be some sense of the proposition "There is such a thing as Time" which is consistent with "Time is unreal."

It follows, then, that if Mr. Bradley means what he ought mean _both_ by "Time is unreal" _and_ by "Time exists," he is contradicting himself when he combines these two propositions. And I have said I feel convinced that he _does_ mean what he ought to mean by the former. But I feel a good deal of doubt as to whether, all the same, he is contradicting himself, because it does seem to me doubtful whether he means what he ought to mean by the latter. The kind of thing which I imagine may be happening to him when he insists so strongly that Time _does_ exist, _is a fact,_ and _is,_ is that, properly speaking, he is not attaching to these phrases any meaning whatever--_not,_ therefore, that which they properly bear. It seems to me very possible that he has so strongly convinced himself of the false proposition that there _must_ be _some_ sense in which, if I think of a unicorn, there must _be_ a unicorn, that wherever he knows the former proposition holds, he allows himself to use the latter _form of words,_ without attaching any meaning to them. What he is really asserting so emphatically may, I think, be not anything which his words stand for, but simply this verbal proposition that there _must_ be _some_ sense in which they are true.

[1] _Appearance and Reality_ (2nd edn.), p. 35. The Italics are mine.

[2] _Op. cit._ pp. 131-2.

SOME JUDGMENTS OF PERCEPTION

I want to raise some childishly simple questions as to what we are doing when we make judgments of a certain kind, which we all do in fact exceedingly commonly make. The kind of judgments I mean are those which we make when, with regard to something which we are seeing, we judge such things as '"That is an inkstand," "That is a tablecloth," "That is a door," etc., etc.; or when, with regard to something which we are feeling with our hands, we judge such things as "This is cloth," "This is a finger," "This is a coin," etc., etc.

It is scarcely possible, I think, to exaggerate the frequency with which we make such judgments as these, nor yet the certainty with which we are able to make vast numbers of them. Any man, who is not blind, can, at almost any moment of his waking life, except when he is in the dark, make a large number of judgments of the first kind, with the greatest certainty. He has only to look about him, if he is indoors, to judge with regard to various things which he is seeing, such things as "That is a window," "That is a chair," "This is a book"; or, if he is out-of-doors, such things as "That is a house," "That is a motor-car," "That is a man," or "That is a stone," "That is a tree," "That is a cloud." And all of us, who are not blind, do in fact constantly make such judgments, even if, as a rule, we only make them as parts of more complicated judgments. What I mean is that, when we make such judgments as "Hullo! that clock has stopped," or "This chair is more comfortable than that one," or "That man looks like a foreigner," judgments of the simpler kind with which I am concerned are, so far as I can see, actually a part of what we are judging. In judging "That clock has stopped," part of what I am actually judging is, so far as I can see, "That is a clock;" and similarly if I judge "That tree is taller than this one," my judgment actually contains the two simpler judgments "That is a tree," and "This is a tree." Perhaps most judgments which we make, of the kind I mean, are, in this way, only parts of more complicated judgments: I do not know whether this is so or not. But in any case there can be no doubt that we make them exceedingly commonly. And even a blind man, or a man in the dark, can and does, very frequently, make judgments of the second kind--judgments about things which he is feeling with his hands. All of us, for instance, at almost any moment of our waking life, whether we are in the dark or not, have only to feel certain parts of our own bodies or of our clothes, in order to make, with great certainty, such judgments as "This is a finger," "This is a nose," "This is cloth." And similarly I have only to feel in my pockets to judge, with regard to objects which I meet with there, such things as "This is a coin," "This is a pencil," "This is a pipe."

Judgments of this kind would, I think, commonly, and rightly, be taken to be judgments, the truth of which involves the existence of material things or physical objects. If I am right in judging that this is an inkstand, it follows that there is at least one inkstand in the Universe; and if there is an inkstand in the Universe, it follows that there is in it at least one material thing or physical object. This may, of course, be disputed. Berkeley, if I understand him rightly, was clearly of opinion that there was no inconsistency in maintaining that there were in the Universe thousands of inkstands and trees and stones and stars, and that yet there was in it no such thing as matter. And perhaps the definition of matter, which he adopted, was such that there really was no inconsistency in maintaining this. Perhaps, similarly, other philosophers have sometimes adopted definitions of the expressions "material things" and "physical objects," which were such that all the judgments of this kind that we make might quite well be true, without its being true that there are in the Universe any material things whatever. Perhaps, even, there may be some justification for adopting definitions of those terms which would yield the surprising result that we may, with perfect consistency, maintain that the world is full of minerals and vegetables and animals, of all sorts of different kinds, and that yet there is not to be found in it a single material thing. I do not know whether there is or is not any utility in using the terms "material thing" or "physical object" in such a sense as this. But, whether there is or not, I cannot help thinking that there is ample justification for using them in another sense--a sense in which from the proposition that there are in the Universe such things as inkstands or fingers or clouds, it strictly follows that there are in it at least as many material things, and in which, therefore, we can _not_ consistently maintain the existence of inkstands, fingers, and clouds, while denying that of material things. The kinds of judgment which I have mentioned, and thousands of others which might easily be mentioned, are obviously all of the same sort in one very important respect--a respect in which, for instance, such judgments as "This is an emotion," "This is a judgment," "This is a colour," are _not_ of the same sort as they are. And it seems to me that we are certainly using the term "material thing" in _a_ correct and useful way, if we express this important common property which they have, by saying that of each of them the same can truly be said as was said of the judgment "That is an inkstand": that, just as from the proposition "There is an inkstand" it follows that there is at least one material thing, so from the proposition "There is a tablecloth," it follows that there is at least one material thing; and similarly in all the other cases. We can certainly use the expression "Things _such as_ inkstands, tablecloths, fingers, clouds, stars, etc.," to mean things such as these in a certain very important respect, which we all understand, though we may not be able to define it. And the term "material thing" certainly is and can be correctly used to mean simply things such as these in that respect--whatever it may be. Some term is certainly required to mean merely things such as these in that important respect; and, so far as I can see, there is no term which can be naturally used in this sense except the term "material things" and its equivalents. Thus understood, the term "material thing" certainly does stand for an important notion, which requires a name.

And, if we agree to use the term in this sense, then it is obvious that no more can be necessary for the truth of the assertion that there are material things, than is necessary for the truth of judgments of the kind with which I propose to deal. But no more can be necessary for the truth of these judgments than is actually asserted in or logically implied by them. And if we approach the question what is necessary for the truth of the assertion that there are material things, by asking what it is that we actually assert when we make such judgments as these, certain reasons for doubting how much is necessary are, I think, brought out much more clearly, than if we approach the question in any other way. Many philosophers have told us a very great deal as to what they suppose to be involved in the existence of material things; and some, at least, among them seem to have meant by "material things" such things as inkstands, fingers and clouds. But I can think of only one type of view as to the constitution of material things, which is such that it is tolerably clear what answer those who hold it would give to the simple question; What is it that I am judging, when I judge, as I now do, that that is an inkstand? The type of view I mean is that to which the view that Mill suggests, when he explains what he means by saying that Matter is a Permanent Possibility of Sensation, and also the view or views which Mr. Russell seems to suggest in his "Our Knowledge of the External World," seem to belong. In the case of views of this kind, it is, I think, tolerably clear what answer those who hold them would give to _all_ the questions I want to raise about judgments of the kind I have described. But it does not seem to me at all certain that any view of this type is true; and certainly many philosophers have held and do hold that all views of this type are false. But in the case of those who do hold them to be false, I do not know, in any single case, what answer would be given to _all_ the questions which I want to raise. In the case of philosophers, who do not accept any view of the Mill-Russell type, none, so far as I know, has made it clear what answer he would give to _all_ my questions: some have made it clear what answer they would give to _some_ of them; but many, I think, have not even made it clear what answer they would give to any. Perhaps there is some simple and satisfactory answer, which has escaped me, that such philosophers could give to all my questions; but I cannot help thinking that assumptions as to the nature of material things have too often been made, without its even occurring to those who made them to ask, what, if they were true, we could be judging when we make such judgments as these; and that, if this question had been asked, it would have become evident that those assumptions were far less certain than they appeared to be.

I do not know that there is any excuse whatever for calling _all_ judgments of the kind I mean "judgments of perception." All of them are, of course, judgments _about_ things which we are at the moment perceiving, since, by definition, they are judgments about things which we are seeing or feeling with our hands; and all of them are, no doubt, also _based upon_ something which we perceive about the thing in question. But the mere fact that a judgment is both about a thing which I am perceiving, and also based upon something which I perceive about that thing, does not seem to be a sufficient reason for calling it a judgment of perception; and I do not know that there is any other reason than this for calling _all_ judgments of the kind I mean judgments of perception. I do not want therefore, to assert that _all_ of them are so. But it seems to me quite plain that enormous numbers of them are so, in a perfectly legitimate sense. This judgment, which I now make, to the effect that _that_ is a door, seems to me quite plainly to be a judgment of perception, in the simple sense that I make it because I do, in fact, see that that _is_ a door, and assert in it no more than what I see; and what I see I, of course, perceive. In every case in which I judge, with regard to something which I am seeing or feeling with my hands, that it is a so-and-so, simply because I do perceive, by sight or touch, that it is in fact a thing of that kind, we can, I think, fairly say that the judgment in question is a judgment of perception. And enormous numbers of judgments of the kind I mean are, quite plainly, judgments of perception in this sense. They are not _all,_ for the simple reason that some of them are mistaken. I may, for instance, judge, with regard to an animal which I see at a distance, that it is a sheep, when in fact it is a pig. And here my judgment is certainly not due to the fact that I see it to be a sheep; since I cannot possibly see a thing to be a sheep, unless it is one. It, therefore, is _not_ a judgment of perception in this sense. And moreover, even where such a judgment is true, it may not always be a judgment of perception, for the reason that, whereas I only see the thing in question, the kind of thing which I judge it to be is of such a nature, that it is impossible for any one, by sight alone, to perceive anything to be of that kind. How to draw the line between judgments of this kind, which are judgments of perception, and those which are not, I do not know. That is to say, I do not know what conditions must be fulfilled in order that I may be truly said to be _perceiving,_ by sight or touch, such things as that that is a door, this is a finger, and not _merely_ inferring them. Some people may no doubt think that it is very unphilosophical in me to say that we _ever_ can perceive such things as these. But it seems to me that we do, in ordinary life, constantly talk of _seeing_ such things, and that, when we do so, we are neither using language incorrectly, nor making any mistake about the facts--supposing something to occur which never does in fact occur. The truth seems to me to be that we are using the term "perceive" in a way which is both perfectly correct and expresses a kind of thing which constantly does occur, only that some philosophers have not recognised that this is a correct usage of the term and have not been able to define it. I am not, therefore, afraid to say that I do now perceive that that is a door, and that that is a finger. Only, of course, when I say that I do, I do not mean to assert that part of what I "perceive," when I "perceive" these things, may not be something which, in an important sense, is known to me only by inference. It would be very rash to assert that "perception," in this sense of the word, entirely excludes inference. All that seems to me certain is that there is an important and useful sense of the word "perception," which is such that the amount and kind of inference, if inference there be, which is involved in my present perception that that is a door, is no bar to the truth of the assertion that I do perceive that it is one. Vast numbers, then, of the kind of judgments with which I propose to deal seem to me to be, in an important and legitimate sense, judgments of perception; although I am not prepared to define, any further than I have done, what that sense is. And though it is true that the questions which I shall raise apply just as much to those of them which are not judgments of perception as to those which are, it is, of course, also true that they apply just as much to those which are as to those which are not; so that I shall be really dealing with a large and important class among judgments of perception.