332 IDEALISM AND COMMON SENSE 



have never been really aware of anything but my private 

 feelings. 



561. Between the feelings which I ordinarily recognize as mere 

 feelings (recollections, imaginings, and the like), and those which 

 I refer to external objects as properties of them or as caused 

 directly by them (i.e. my sense-impressions), there exists a vast 

 difference. Thus, what I suppose to be the sight of a dog, or the 

 pain caused by his bite, is immensely more vivid than my thoughts 

 about such an event Moreover, sense-impressions follow one 

 another in an infinitely more coherent and orderly way than do 

 thoughts. Indeed, so orderly is the procession of the former that 

 we feel intense surprise when the usual order is apparently broken, 

 and we immediately cast about to restore it, or, in other words, to 

 discover a cause for the break, which we firmly believe to be only 

 apparent. Thus, if I had the feeling of a dog biting me when no 

 dog was in sight, I should feel unbounded astonishment, and should 

 immediately form all sorts of hypotheses to account for the event. 



562. Doubtless, it is this peculiar vividness, and above all 

 coherence of sense-impressions, the way they link themselves in 

 related groups, which cannot be altered at will but may be verified 

 by repeated observation even after a length of time, that has given 

 rise to my notion of external objects (included amongst which 

 is my own body) ; whereas the lack of a similar coherence and 

 vividness amongst other feelings (e.g. thoughts) has led to the 

 unhesitating recognition of them as mere mental phenomena. 

 Thus, all the impressions which I gather from the objects in this 

 room cohere together so strongly that as they are collectively 

 to-day, so, very nearly, they were yesterday, and will be to-morrow. 

 They are invariably so similar, so closely repeated in the same 

 groups, that they have driven me to think they represent the same 

 external objects the same table, the same chair, the same walls, 

 and roof and floor. If I wish to see again what once I saw on the 

 way from New Zealand I can do so; for, if the journey be 

 repeated, a long train of similar sense-impressions will follow one 

 another in similar array. Forgotten scenes, appealing to awakened 

 memory, will insist as strongly as anything I can still recall on a 

 reality independent of my mind. Even when I read a description 

 in a book, I am able to verify it by examining the place or object 

 described. But in my thoughts I can pass, and habitually do pass, 

 in a moment from the room to India or Honolulu, or Mars, and 

 in two consecutive instants can be concerned in a dog-fight round 

 the corner, or a Saxon coronation. It is no wonder, then, that I 



