no Newton's laws.

                             VII

     There is a peculiar class of experience to
which, whether we take them as subjective or
as objective, we _assign their several natures as
attributes, because in both contexts they affect
their associates actively, though in neither
quite as 'strongly' or as sharply as things affect
one another by their physical energies.  I
refer here to _appreciations_, which form an ambiguous
sphere of being, belonging with emotion
on the one hand, and having objective 'value'
on the other, yet seeming not quite inner nor
quite outer, as if a diremption had begun but
had not made itself complete.

     Experiences of painful objects, for example,
are usually also painful experiences; perceptions
of loveliness, of ugliness, tend to pass
muster as lovely or as ugly perceptions; intuitions
of the morally lofty are lofty intuitions.

35
Sometimes the adjective wanders as if uncertain
where to fix itself.  Shall we speak of
seductive visions or of visions of seductive
things?  Of healthy thoughts or of thoughts
of healthy objects?  Of good impulses, or of
impulses towards the good?  Of feelings of
anger, or of angry feelings?  Both in the mind
and in the thing, these natures modify their
context, exclude certain associates and determine
others, have their mates and incompatibles.
Yet not as stubbornly as in the case of
physical qualities, for beauty and ugliness,
love and hatred, pleasant and painful can, in
certain complex experiences, coexist.

     If one were to make an evolutionary construction
of how a lot of originally chaotic pure
experience became gradually differentiated
into an orderly inner and outer world, the
whole theory would turn upon one's success in
explaining how or why the quality of an experience,
once active, could become less so, and,
from being an energetic attribute in some
cases, elsewhere lapse into the status of an

36
inert or merely internal 'nature.'  This would
be the 'evolution' of the psychical from the
bosom of the physical, in which the esthetic,
moral and otherwise emotional experiences
would represent a halfway stage.

                            VIII

     But a last cry of _non_possumus_ will probably
go up from many readers.  "All very pretty as
a piece of ingenuity," they will say, "but our
consciousness itself intuitively contradicts you.
We, for our part, _know_ that we are conscious.
We _feel_ our thought, flowing as a life within us,
in absolute contrast with the objects which it
so unremittingly escorts.  We can not be faithless
to this immediate intuition.  The dualism
is a fundamental _datum_:  Let no man join what
God has put asunder."

     My reply to this is my last word, and I
greatly grieve that to many it will sound materialistic.
I can not help that, however, for
I, too, have my intuitions and I must obey
them.  Let the case be what it may in others, I
am as confident as I am of anything that, in

37
myself, the stream of thinking (which I recognize
emphatically as a phenomenon) is only a
careless name for what, when scrutinized, reveals
itself to consist chiefly of the stream of
my breathing.  The 'I think' which Kant said
must be able to accompany all my objects, is
the 'I breath' which actually does accompany
them.  There are other internal facts
besides breathing (intracephalic muscular adjustments,
etc., of which I have said a word in
my larger Psychology), and these increase the
assets of 'consciousness,' so far as the latter is
subject to immediate perception; but breath,
which was ever the original of 'spirit,' breath
moving outwards, between the glottis and the
nostrils, is, I am persuaded, the essence out of
which philosophers have constructed the entity
known to them as consciousness.  _That_
_entity_is_fictitious,_while_thoughts_in_the_concrete_
_are_fully_real.__But_thoughts_in_the_concrete_are_
_made_of_the_same_stuff_as_things_are.