A MODERN "SYMPOSIUM." 



507 



to ascribe that real unity to an aggregate of 

 things or beings who resemble each other, like 

 the members of the human race, or cooperate 

 toward a common result, like the parts of a pict- 

 ure, a melody, or the human frame, and which 

 may thus be conveniently viewed in combination, 

 and represented by a single word or phrase. 



I think that the little which I have to say will 

 be the clearer for these preliminary protests. 



The questions in hand relate first to the claim 

 of the soul of man to be treated as an existing 

 thing not bound by the laws of matter; second- 

 ly, to the immortality of that existing thing. 



The claim of the soul to be considered as an 

 existing and immaterial being presents itself to 

 my mind as follows : 



My positive experience informs me of one 

 thing percipient — myself; and of a multitude of 

 things perceptible — perceptible, that is, not by 

 way of consciousness, as I am to myself, but by 

 way of impression on other things — capable of 

 making themselves felt through the channels and 

 organs of sensation. These things thus percep- 

 tible constitute the material world. 



I take no account of percipients other than my- 

 self, for I can only conjecture about them what I 

 know about myself. I take no account of things 

 neither percipient nor perceptible, for it is impos- 

 sible to do so. I know of nothing outside me of 

 which I can say it is at once percipient and per- 

 ceptible. But I inquire whether I am myself so — 

 whether the existing being to which my sense of 

 identity refers, in which my sensations reside, and 

 which for these two reasons I call "myself," is 

 capable also of being perceived by beings outside 

 myself, as the material world is perceived by me. 



I first observe that things perceptible com- 

 prise not only objects, but instruments and media 

 of perception — an immense variety of contriv- 

 ances, natural or artificial, for transmitting in- 

 formation to the sensitive being. Such are tel- 

 escopes, microscopes, ear-trumpets, the atmos- 

 phere, and various other media which, if not at 

 present the objects of direct sensation, may con- 

 ceivably become so — and such, above all, are va- 

 rious parts of the human body — the lenses which 

 collect the vibrations which are the conditions of 

 light; the tympanum which collects the vibra- 

 tions • which are the conditions of sound ; the 

 muscles which adjust these and other instruments 

 of sensation to the precise performance of their 

 work ; the nerves which convey to and fro molec- 

 ular movements of the most incomprehensible 

 significance and efficacy. Of all these it is, I 

 understand, more and more evident, as science 



advances, that they are perceptible, but do not 

 perceive. Ear, hand, eye, and nerves, are alike 

 machinery — mere machinery for transmitting the 

 movement of atoms to certain nervous centres — 

 ascertained localities which (it is proper to ob- 

 serve in passing), though small relatively to our- 

 selves and our powers of investigation, may — 

 since size is entirely relative — be absolutely large 

 enough to contain little worlds in themselves. 



Here the investigation of things perceptible 

 is stopped, abruptly and completely. Our inqui- 

 ries into the size, composition, and movement of 

 particles, have been pushed, for the present at 

 any rate, as far as they will go. But at this point 

 we come across a field of phenomena to which 

 the attributes of atoms, size, movement, and 

 physical composition, are wholly inapplicable — 

 the phenomena of sensation or animal life. 



Science informs me that the movements of 

 these perceptible atoms within my body bear a 

 correspondence, strange, subtile, and precise, to 

 the sensations of which I, as a percipient, am 

 conscious ; a correspondence (it is again proper 

 to observe in passing) which extends not only to 

 perceptions, as in sight or hearing, but to reflec- 

 tion and volition, as in sleep and drunkenness. 

 The relation is not one of similarity. The vibra- 

 tions of a white, black, or gray pulp are not in 

 any sensible way similar to the perception of color 

 or sound, or the imagination of a noble act. There 

 is no visible — may I not say no conceivable ? — 

 reason why one should depend on the other. Mo- 

 tion and sensation interact, but they do not over- 

 lap. There is no homogeneity between them. 

 They stand apart. Physical science conducts us 

 to the brink of the chasm which separates them, 

 and by so doing only shows us its depth. 



I return then to the question, "What am I?" 

 My own habits of mind and logical methods cer- 

 tainly require me to believe that I am something 

 — something percipient — but am I perceptible? 

 I find no reason for supposing it. I believe my- 

 self to be surrounded by things percipient. Are 

 they perceptible ? Not to my knowledge. Their 

 existence is to me a matter of inference from 

 their perceptible appendages. Them — their very 

 selves — I certainly cannot perceive. As far as I 

 can understand things perceptible, I detect in 

 them no quality — no capacity for any quality like 

 that of percipiency, which, with its homogeneous 

 faculties, intellect, affections, aud so on, is the 

 basis of my own nature. Physical science, while 

 it develops the relation, seems absolutely to em- 

 phasize and illuminate the ineradicable difference 

 between the motions of a material and the sensa- 



