CHAPTER III

MATTER AND MEMORY

We have seen that, according to the theory of change which is

fundamental for Bergson’s philosophy, the changing fact which we know

directly is described as a process of becoming which does not contain

parts nor admit of repetitions. On the other hand this changing fact

certainly does lend itself to analysis and classification and

explanation and, at first sight at any rate, it is natural to suppose

that whatever can be classified and explained must consist of

qualities, that is distinct parts which can be repeated on different

occasions. The problem for Bergson, if he is to establish his theory of

change, is to show that the fact that a changing process can be

analysed and classified does not necessarily imply that such a process

must consist of distinct qualities which can be repeated. Bergson’s

theory of the relation of matter to memory suggests a possible solution

of this problem as to how it is possible to analyse and so apply

general laws to and explain duration: it becomes necessary, therefore,

to give some account of this theory.

Like all other descriptions and explanations, such an account must, of

course, be expressed in terms of abstractions, and so is liable to be

misunderstood unless the false implications of these abstractions are

allowed for and discounted.

According to Bergson the only actual reality is the changing fact

itself, everything else is abstraction: this reality however is not

confined to the fragment called “our present experience” which is in

the full focus of consciousness and is all that we usually suppose

ourselves to know directly; it includes besides everything that we are

in a sense aware of but do not pay attention to, together with our

whole past: for Bergson, in fact, reality coincides with the field of

virtual knowledge, anything short of this whole field is an abstraction

and so falsified. Even to say “we know this fact” is unsatisfactory as

implying ourselves and the fact as distinct things united by an

external relation of knowing: to say “the fact is different from the

abstraction by which it is explained” similarly implies logically

distinct terms in an external relation of difference, and so on. If

Bergson is right in claiming that the actual fact is non-logical then

obviously all attempts to describe it, since they must be expressed in

terms of abstractions, will teem with false implications which must be

discounted if the description is to convey the meaning intended.

Bergson’s claim is that if we allow ourselves to attend to the changing

fact with which we are actually acquainted we are driven to a theory of

reality different from the theory of things and relations accepted by

common sense. The two abstractions by means of which he attempts to

express this new theory are matter and memory. In the actual fact

Bergson would hold that both these notions are combined by synthesis in

such a way as no longer to be distinct, or rather, for this implies

that they started distinct and then became merged, it would perhaps be

better to say that these two notions are abstractions from two

tendencies which are present in the actual fact. In the actual fact

they combine and, as it were, counteract one another and the result is

something different from either taken alone, but when we abstract them

we release them from each other’s modifying influence and the result is

an exaggeration of one or other tendency which does not really

represent anything which actually occurs but can be used, in

combination with the contrary exaggeration, to explain the actual fact

which may be described as being like what would result from a

combination of these two abstractions.

We will take matter first.

Matter, for Bergson, is an exaggeration of the tendency in reality,

(that is in the actual changing fact directly known) towards logical

distinctness, what he calls “spatiality.” His use of the word “matter”

in this sense is again, perhaps, like his use of the word “space,”

rather misleading. Actual reality, according to him, is never purely

material, the only purely material things are abstractions, and these

are not real at all but simply fictions. Bergson really means the same

thing by “matter” as by “space” and that is simply mutual distinctness

of parts and externality of relations, in a word logical complexity.

Matter, according to this definition of the word, has no duration and

so cannot last through any period of time or change: it simply _is_ in

the present, it does not endure but is perpetually destroyed and

recreated.

The complementary exaggeration which, taken together with matter,

completes Berg-son’s explanation of reality, is memory. Just as matter

is absolute logical complexity memory is absolute creative synthesis.

Together they constitute the hybrid notion of creative duration whose

“parts” interpenetrate which, according to Bergson, comes nearest to

giving a satisfactory description of the actual fact directly known

which is, for him, the whole reality.

The best way to accustom one’s mind to these two complementary

exaggerations, matter and memory, and to see in more detail the use

that Bergson makes of them in explaining the actual facts, will be to

examine his theory of sensible perception, since it is just in the act

of sensible perception that memory comes in contact with matter.

The unsophisticated view is that in sensible perception we become

acquainted with things which exist whether we perceive them or not, and

these things, taken all together, are commonly called the material

world. According to Bergson’s theory also sensible perception is direct

acquaintance with matter. The unsophisticated view holds further,

however, that this material world with which sensible perception

acquaints us is the common sense world of solid tables, green grass,

anger and other such states and things and qualities, but we have

already seen that this common sense world is really itself only one

among the various attempts which science and common sense are

continually making to explain the facts in terms of abstractions. The

worlds of electrons, vibrations, forces, and so on, constructed by

physics, are other attempts to do the same thing and the common sense

world of “real” things and qualities has no more claim to actual

existence than have any of these scientific hypotheses. Berg-son’s

matter is not identified with any one of these constructions, it is

that in the facts which they are all attempts to explain in terms of

abstractions, the element in the facts upon which abstractions are

based and which makes facts classifiable and so explicable.

The words by which we describe and explain the material element in the

facts in terms of series of distinct stages or events in external

relations would leave out change if their implications were followed

out consistently, but it is only a few “intellectuals” who have ever

been able to bring themselves to follow out this implication to the

bitter end and accept the conclusion, however absurd. Since it is

obvious that the facts do change the usual way of getting round the

difficulty is to say that some of these stages are “past” and some

“present,” and then, not clearly realizing that the explanations we

construct are not really facts at all, to take it for granted that a

transition between past and present, though there is no room for it in

the logical form of the explanation, yet somehow manages actually to

take place. Bergson agrees that change does actually take place but not

as a transition between abstractions such as “past” and “present.” We

think that “past” and “present” must be real facts because we do not

realize clearly how these notions have been arrived at. Once we have

grasped the idea that these notions, and indeed all clear concepts, are

only abstractions, we see that it is not necessary to suppose that

these abstractions really change at all. Between the abstractions “the

past” and “the present” there is no transition, and it is the same with

events and things and qualities: all these, being nothing but

convenient fictions, stand outside the stream of actual fact which is

what really changes and endures.

Matter, then, is the name which Bergson gives to that element in the

fact upon which the purely logical form appropriate to abstractions is

based. The actual facts are not purely logical but neither are they

completely interpenetrated since they lend themselves to

classification: they tend to logical form on the one hand and to

complete inter-penetration on the other without going the whole way in

either direction. What Bergson does in the description of the facts

which he offers is to isolate each of these tendencies making them into

two separate distinct abstractions, one called matter and the other

mind. Isolated, what in the actual fact was blended becomes

incompatible. Matter and mind, the clear cut abstractions, are mutually

contradictory and it becomes at once a pseudo-problem to see how they

ever could combine to constitute the actual fact.

The matter which Bergson talks about, being what would be left of the

facts if memory were abstracted, has no past: it simply is in the

present moment. If there is any memory which can retain previous

moments then this memory may compare these previous moments with the

present moment and call them the past of matter, but in itself, apart

from memory, (and so isolated in a way in which this tendency in the

actual fact never could be isolated) matter has no past.

Noticing how very different the actual facts which we know directly are

from any of the material worlds by which we explain them, each of which

lays claim to being “the reality with which sensible perception

acquaints us,” some philosophers have put forward the view that in

sensible perception we become acquainted, not with matter itself, but

with signs which stand for a material world which exists altogether

outside perception. This view Bergson rejects. He says that in sensible

perception we are not acquainted with mere signs but, in so far as

there is any matter at all, what we know in sensible perception is that

matter itself. The facts which we know directly are matter itself and

would be nothing but matter if they were instantaneous. For Bergson,

however, an instantaneous fact is out of the question: every fact

contains more than the mere matter presented at the moment of

perception. Facts are distinguished from matter by lasting through a

period of duration, this is what makes the difference between the

actual fact and any of the material worlds in terms of which we

describe them: matter, is, as we have said, only an abstraction of one

element or tendency in the changing fact which is the sole reality:

memory is the complementary abstraction. Apart from the actual fact

neither matter nor memory have independent existence. This is where

Berg-son disagrees with the philosophers who regard the facts as signs

of an independent material world, or as phenomena which misrepresent

some “thing” in “itself” which is what _really_ exists but which is not

known directly but only inferred from the phenomena. For Bergson it is

the fact directly known that _really_ exists, and matter and memory,

solid tables, green grass, electrons, forces, the absolute, and all the

other abstract ideas by which we explain it are misrepresentations of

it, not it of them.

Even Bergson, however, does not get away from the distinction between

appearance and reality. The fact is for him the reality, the

abstraction the appearance. But then the fact which is the reality is

not the fact which we ordinarily suppose ourselves to know, the little

fragment which constitutes “our experience at the present moment.” This

is itself an abstraction from the vastly wider fact of our virtual

knowledge, and it is this wider field of knowledge which is the

reality. Abstraction involves falsification and so the little fragment

of fact to which our attention is usually confined is not, as it

stands, reality: it is appearance. We should only know reality as it is

if we could replace this fragment in its proper context in the whole

field of virtual knowledge (or reality) where it belongs. What we

should then know would not be appearance but reality itself. It is at

this knowledge, according to Bergson, that philosophy aims. Philosophy

is a reversal of our ordinary intellectual habits: ordinarily thought

progresses from abstraction to abstraction steadily getting further

from concrete facts: according to Bergson the task of philosophy should

be to put abstractions back again into their context so as to obtain

the fullest possible knowledge of actual fact.

In order to describe and explain this fact, however, we have to make

use of abstractions. Bergson describes the fact known directly by

sensible perception as a contraction of a period of the duration of

matter in which the “past” states of matter are preserved along with

the “present” and form a single whole with it. It is memory which makes

this difference between matter and the actual facts by preserving

“past” matter and combining it with “the present.” A single perceived

fact, however, does not contain memories as distinct from present

material: the distinction between “past” and “present” does not hold

inside facts whose duration forms a creative whole and not a logical

series. Of course it is incorrect to describe facts as “containing past

and present matter,” but, as we have often pointed out, misleading

though their logical implications are, we are obliged to replace facts

by abstractions when we want to describe them.

An example may perhaps convey what is meant by saying that a fact is a

contraction of a period of the duration of matter. Consider red,

bearing in mind that, when we are speaking of the fact actually

perceived when we see red we must discount the logical implications of

our words. Science says that red, the material, is composed of

immensely rapid vibrations of ether: red, the fact, we know as a simple

colour. Bergson accepts the scientific abstractions in terms of which

to describe matter, making the reservation that, if we are to talk of

matter as composed of vibrations, we must not say that these vibrations

last through a period of time or change by themselves, apart from any

memory which retains and so preserves the “past” vibrations. If matter

is to be thought of at all as existing apart from any memory it must be

thought of as consisting of a single vibration in a perpetual present

with no past. We might alter the description and say that this present

moment of matter should be thought of as being perpetually destroyed

and recreated.

Now according to Bergson the red which we know directly _is_ a period

of the vibrations of matter contracted by memory so as to produce an

actual perceived fact. As matter red does not change, it is absolutely

discrete and complex, in a word, logical: as fact it is non-logical and

forms a creative process of duration. The difference between matter and

the actual fact is made by the mental act which holds matter as it were

in tension through a period of duration, when a fact is produced, but

which would have had to be absent if there had been no fact but simply

present matter. Bergson calls this act memory: memory, he says, turns

matter into fact by preserving its past along with its present. Without

memory there would be no duration and so no change and no time. Matter,

apart from memory would have no duration and it is just in this that it

is distinguished from actual fact.

It is, however, of course, only by making abstractions that we can say

what things would be like if something were taken away which actually

is not taken away. Matter never really does exist without memory nor

memory without its content, matter: the actual fact can only be

described as a combination of the two elements, but this description

must not lead us into supposing that the abstractions, matter and

memory, actually have independent existence apart from the fact which

they explain. Only the actual fact exists and it is not really made up

of two elements, matter and memory, but only described in terms of

these two abstractions.

Bergson’s account of perception differs from the account ordinarily

given in that perception is not described as a relation which is

supposed to hold between a subject and an object: for Bergson there is

no “I,” distinct from what is perceived, standing to it in a relation

of perception. For an object, to be perceived consists, not in being

related to a perceiver, but in being combined in a new way with other

objects. If an object is combined by synthesis with other objects then

it is perceived and so becomes a fact. But there is no mind over and

above the objects which perceives them by being related to them, or

even by performing an act of synthesis upon them. To speak of “our”

perceiving objects is a mere fiction: when objects are combined by

synthesis they become perceptions, facts, and this is the same as

saying that they are minds. For Bergson a mind _is_ nothing but a

synthesis of objects. This explains what he means by saying that in

direct knowledge the perceiver is the object perceived.

Actually he thinks such notions as the perceiver and the object and the

relation which unites them, or again matter and the act of synthesis

which turns matter into fact, are nothing but abstractions: the only

thing there really is is simply the fact itself. These abstractions,

however, do somehow apply to the actual facts, and this brings us back

to our problem as to how it is that the actual fact, which is in

creative duration, lends itself to classification: how it is that

general laws in terms of abstractions which can be repeated over and

over again, can apply to the actual fact which does not contain

repetitions?

Facts lend themselves to explanation when they are perceived as

familiar. In this perceived familiarity, which is the basis of all

abstraction, and so of all description and explanation, past as well as

present is involved, the present owing its familiarity to our memory of

past facts. The obvious explanation of perceived familiarity, would be,

of course, to say that it results from our perceiving similar qualities

shared by past and present facts, or relations of similarity holding

between them. But Bergson must find some other explanation than this

since he denies that there can be repetition in actual facts directly

known.

Whenever there is actual fact there is memory, and memory creates

duration which excludes repetition. Perceived familiarity depends upon

memory but memory, according to Bergson, does not work by preserving a

series of repetitions for future reference. If we say that memory

connects “the past” with “the present” we must add that it destroys

their logical distinctness. But of course this is putting it very

badly: there is really no “logical distinctness” in the actual fact for

memory to “destroy”: our language suggests that first there was matter,

forming a logical series of distinct qualities recurring over and over,

and then memory occurred and telescoped the series, squeezing “earlier”

and “later” moments into one another to make a creative duration. Such

a view is suggested by our strong bias towards regarding abstractions

as having independent existence apart from the real fact from which

they have been abstracted: if we can overcome this bias the description

will do well enough.

According to Bergson, as we have just seen, every actual fact must

contain some memory otherwise it would not be a fact but simply matter,

since it is an act of memory that turns matter into perceived fact. Our

ordinary more or less familiar facts, however, contain much more than

this bare minimum. The facts of everyday life are perceived as familiar

and classified from a vast number of points of view. When you look at a

cherry you recognise its colour, shape, etc., you know it is edible,

what it would taste like, whether it is ripe, and much more besides,

all at a glance. All this knowledge depends on memory, memory gives

meaning to what we might call bare sensation (which is the same thing

as Bergson’s present matter) as opposed to the full familiar fact

actually experienced. Now the meaning is ordinarily contained in the

actual fact along with the bare sensation not as a multiplicity of

memories distinct from the bare sensation, but, as we put it, at a

glance. This peculiar flavour of a familiar fact can be analysed out as

consisting of memories of this or that past experience, if we choose to

treat it in that way, just as a fact can be analysed into qualities.

According to Bergson this analysis of the meaning of a familiar fact

into memories would have the same drawbacks as the analysis of a

present fact into qualities: it would leave out much of the meaning and

distort the rest. Bergson holds that wherever there is duration the

past must be preserved since it is just the preservation of the past,

the creation of fact by a synthesis of what, out of synthesis, would be

past and present, which constitutes duration. The essential point about

mental life is just the performing of this act of synthesis which makes

duration: wherever there is mental life there is duration and so

wherever there is mental life the past is preserved. “Above

everything,” Bergson says, “consciousness signifies memory. At this

moment as I discuss with you I pronounce the word “discussion.” It is

clear that my consciousness grasps this word altogether; if not it

would not see it as a unique word and would not make sense of it. And

yet when I pronounce the last syllable of the word the two first ones

have already been pronounced; relatively to this one, which must then

be called present, they are past. But this last syllable “sion” was not

pronounced instantaneously; the time, however short, during which I was

saying it, can be split up into parts and these parts are past,

relatively to the last of them, and this last one would be present if

it were not that it too can be further split up: so that, do what you

will, you cannot draw any line of demarcation between past and present,

and so between memory and consciousness. Indeed when I pronounce the

word “discussion” I have before my mind, not only the beginning, the

middle and the end of the word, but also the preceding words, also the

whole of the sentence which I have already spoken; if it were not so I

should have lost the thread of my speech. Now if the punctuation of the

speech had been different my sentence might have begun earlier; it

might, for instance, have contained the previous sentence and my

“present” would have been still further extended into the past. Let us

push this reasoning to its conclusion: let us suppose that my speech

has lasted for years, since the first awakening of my consciousness,

that it has consisted of a single sentence, and that my consciousness

has been sufficiently detached from the future, sufficiently

disinterested to occupy itself exclusively in taking in the meaning of

the sentence: in that case I should not look for any explanation of the

total conservation of this sentence any more than I look for one of the

survival of the first two syllables of the word “discussion” when I

pronounce the last one. Well, I think that our whole inner life is like

a single sentence, begun from the first awakening of consciousness, a

sentence scattered with commas, but nowhere broken by a full stop. And

so I think that our whole past is there, subconscious—I mean present to

us in such a way that our consciousness, to become aware of it, need

not go outside itself nor add anything foreign: to perceive clearly all

that it contains, or rather all that it is, it has only to put aside an

obstacle, to lift a veil.”[5]

[5] _L’Energie Spirituelle_—“L’Ame et le Corps,” pages 59 and 60.

If this theory of memory be correct, the occurrence of any present bare

sensation itself suffices to recall, in some sense, the whole past. But

this is no use for practical purposes, just as the whole of the fact

given in present perception is useless for practical purposes until it

has been analysed into qualities. According to Bergson we treat the

material supplied by memory in much the same way as that supplied by

perception. The whole field of the past which the present calls up is

much wider than what we actually remember clearly: what we actually

remember is arrived at by ignoring all the past except such scraps as

appear to form useful precedents for behaviour in the present situation

in which we find ourselves. Perhaps this explains why sometimes, at the

point of death, when useful behaviour is no longer possible, this

selection breaks down and the whole of the past floods back into

memory. The brain, according to Bergson, is the organ whose function it

is to perform this necessary work of selection out of the whole field

of virtual memory of practically useful fragments, and so long as the

brain is in order, only these are allowed to come through into

consciousness as clear memories. The passage just quoted goes on to

speak of “the part played by the brain in memory.” “The brain does not

serve to preserve the past but primarily to obscure it, and then to let

just so much as is practically useful slip through.”

But the setting of the whole past, though it is ignored for

convenience, still makes itself felt in the peculiar qualitative

flavour which belongs to every present fact by reason of its past. Even

in the case of familiar facts this flavour is no mere repetition but is

perpetually modified as the familiarity increases, and it is just in

this progressively changing flavour that their familiarity consists.

An inspection of what we know directly, then, does not bear out the

common sense theory that perceived familiarity, upon which abstraction

and all description and explanation are based, consists in the

perception of similar qualities shared by present matter and the matter

retained by memory. A familiar fact appears to be, not a repetition,

but a _new_ fact. This new fact may be described as containing present

and past bare sensations, but it must be added that these bare

sensations do not remain distinct things but are synthesised by the act

of perception into a fresh whole which is not the sum of the bare

sensations which it may be described as containing. Such a perceived

whole will be familiar, and so lend itself to abstraction and

explanation, in so far as the present bare sensation which it contains,

taken as mere matter (that is apart from the act of perception which

turns it from mere matter into actual fact), would have been a

repetition of some of the past bare sensations which go to form its

meaning and combine with it to create the fact actually known. For bare

sensation now may be a repetition of past bare sensation though the

full fact will always be something fresh, its flavour changing as it

grows more and more familiar by taking up into itself more and more

bare sensation which, taken in abstraction, apart from the act of

synthesis which turns it into actual fact, would be repetitions. To

take the example which we have already used of perceiving first a rose

and then a strawberry ice cream: let us suppose that the rose was the

very first occasion on which you saw pink. The perceived fact on that

occasion would, like all perceived facts, be a combination of / past

and present bare sensations. It would I not be familiar because the

elements of present bare sensation would not be repetitions of the

elements of past bare sensation (always assuming, as we must for

purposes of explanation, that past and present bare sensations ever

could be isolated from the actual fact and still both exist, which,

however, is not possible). But when you saw the strawberry ice cream

the past perceived rose would be among the memories added to this bare

sensation which constitute its meaning and, by forming a synthesis with

it, turn it from mere matter into fact. The pink would now be perceived

as familiar because the pink of the rose (which as bare sensation is

similar to the bare sensation of strawberry-ice-cream-pink) would be

included, along with the present bare sensation of pink, in the whole

fact of the perception of strawberry ice cream.

Perceived fact, then, combines meaning and present bare sensation to

form a whole with a qualitative flavour which is itself always unique,

but which lends itself to abstraction in so far as the bare sensations,

past and present, which go to produce it, would, as matter in

isolation, be repetitions.

This qualitative flavour, however, is, of course, not a quality in the

logical sense which implies distinctness and externality of relations.

Facts have logical qualities only if they are taken in abstraction

isolated from their context. This is not how fact actually occurs.

Every fact occurs in the course of the duration of some mental life

which itself changes as a process of duration and not as a logical

series. The mental life of an individual is, as it were, a

comprehensive fact which embraces all the facts directly known to that

individual in a single process of creative duration. Facts are to the

mental life of an individual what bare sensation is to the actual fact

directly known in perception: facts are, as it were, the matter of

mental life. Imagine a fact directly known, such as we have described

in discussing sensible perception, lasting on and on, perpetually

taking up new bare sensations and complicating them with meaning which

consists of all the past which it already contains so as to make out of

this combination of past and present fresh fact, that will give you

some idea of the way in which Bergson thinks that mental life is

created out of matter by memory. Only this description is still

unsatisfactory because it is obliged to speak of what is created either

in the plural or in the singular and so fails to convey either the

differentiation contained in mental life or else its unbroken

continuity as all one fact progressively modified by absorbing more and

more matter.

If Bergson’s account of the way in which memory works is true there is

a sense in which the whole past of every individual is preserved in

memory and all unites with any present bare sensation to constitute the

fact directly known to him at any given moment. If the continuity of

duration is really unbroken there is no possibility of any of the past

being lost.

This is why Bergson maintains that the whole of our past is contained

in our virtual knowledge: what he means by our virtual knowledge is

simply everything which enters into the process of duration which

constitutes our whole mental life. Besides our whole past this virtual

knowledge must also contain much more of present bare sensation than we

are usually aware of.

We said that, for Bergson, actual fact directly known was the only

reality; this actual fact, however, does not mean merely what is

present to the perception of a given individual at any given moment,

but the whole of our virtual knowledge. The field of virtual knowledge

would cover much the same region as the subconscious, which plays such

an important part in modern psychology. The limits of this field are

impossible to determine. Once you give up limiting direct knowledge to

the fact actually present in perception at any given moment it is

difficult to draw the line anywhere. And yet to draw the line at the

present moment is impossible for “the present moment” is clearly an

abstract fiction. For practical purposes “the present” is what is known

as “the specious present,” which covers a certain ill-defined period of

duration from which the instantaneous “present moment” is recognised to

be a mere abstraction. According to Bergson, however, just as “the

present moment” is only an abstraction from a wider specious present so

this specious present itself is an abstraction from a continuous

process of duration from which other abstractions, days, weeks, years,

can be made, but which is actually unbroken and forms a single

continuous changing whole. And just as facts are only abstractions from

the whole mental life of an individual so individuals must be regarded

as abstractions from some more comprehensive mental whole and thus our

virtual knowledge seems not merely to extend over the whole of what is

embraced by our individual acts of perception and preserved by our

individual memories but overflows even these limits and must be

regarded as co-extensive with the duration of the whole of reality.

It may be open to question how much of this virtual knowledge of both

past and present we ever could know directly in any sense comparable to

the way in which we know the fact actually presented at some given

moment, however perfectly we might succeed in ridding ourselves with

our intellectual pre-occupation with explaining instead of knowing;

but, if reality forms an unbroken whole in duration, we cannot in

advance set any limits, short of the whole of reality, to the field of

virtual knowledge. And it does really seem as if our pre-occupation

with discovering repetitions in the interests of explanation had

something to do with the limited extent of the direct knowledge which

we ordinarily enjoy, so that, if we could overcome this bias, we might

know more than we do now, though how much more it is not possible, in

advance, to predict. For in the whole field of virtual knowledge, which

appears to be continuous with the little scrap of fact which is all

that we usually attend to, present bare sensation and such bare

sensations as resemble it, form very insignificant elements: for

purposes of abstraction and explanation, however, it is only these

insignificant elements that are of any use. So long, therefore, as we

are preoccupied with abstraction, we must bend all our energies towards

isolating these fragments from the context which extends out and out

over the whole field of virtual knowledge, rivetting our attention on

them and, as far as possible, ignoring all the rest. If Bergson’s

theory of virtual knowledge is correct, then, it does seem as if

normally our efforts were directed towards shutting out most of our

knowledge rather than towards enjoying it, towards forgetting the

greater part of what memory contains rather than towards remembering

it.

If we really could reverse this effort and concentrate upon knowing the

whole field of past and present as fully as possible, instead of

classifying it, which involves selecting part of the field and ignoring

the rest, it is theoretically conceivable that we might succeed in

knowing directly the whole of the process of duration which constitutes

the individual mental life of each one of us. And it is not even

certain that our knowledge must necessarily be confined within the

limits of what we have called our individual mental life. Particular

facts, as we have seen, are not really distinct parts of a single

individual mental life: the notion of separateness applies only to

abstractions and it is only because we are much more pre-occupied with

abstractions than with actual facts that we come to suppose that facts

can ever really be separate from one another. When we shake off our

common sense assumptions and examine the actual facts which we know

directly we find that they form a process and not a logical series of

distinct facts one after the other. Now on analogy it seems possible

that what we call individual mental lives are, to the wider process

which contains and constitutes the whole of reality, as particular

facts are to the whole process which constitutes each individual mental

life. The whole of reality may contain individual lives as these

contain particular facts, not as separate distinct units in logical

relations, but as a process in which the line of demarcation between

“the parts” (if we must speak of “parts”) is not clear cut. If this

analogy holds then it is impossible in advance to set any limits to the

field of direct knowledge which it may be in our power to secure by

reversing our usual mental attitude and devoting our energies simply to

knowing, instead of to classifying and explaining.

But without going beyond the limits of our individual experience, and

even without coming to know directly the whole field of past and

present fact which that experience contains, it is still a considerable

gain to our direct knowledge if we realize what false assumptions our

preoccupation with classification leads us to make even about the very

limited facts to which our direct knowledge is ordinarily confined. We

then realize that, besides being considerably less than what we

probably have it in our power to know, these few facts that we do know

are themselves by no means what we commonly suppose them to be.

The two fundamental errors into which common sense leads us about the

facts are the assumptions that they have the logical form, that is

contain mutually exclusive parts in external relations, and that these

parts can be repeated over and over again. These two false assumptions

are summed up in the common sense view that the fact which we know

directly actually consists of events, things, states, qualities.

Bergson tells us that when once we have realized that this is not the

case we have begun to be philosophers.

Having stripped the veil of common sense assumptions from what we know

directly our task will then be to hold this direct knowledge before us

so as to know as much as possible. The act by which we know directly is

the very same act by which we perceive and remember; these are all

simply acts of synthesis, efforts to turn matter into creative

duration. What we have to do is, as it were, to make a big act of

perception to embrace as wild a field as possible of past and present

as a single fact directly known. This act of synthesis Bergson calls

“intuition.”

Intuition may be described as turning past and present into fact

directly known by transforming it from mere matter into a creative

process of duration: but, of course, actually, there is not, first

matter, then an act of intuition which synthesises it, and finally a

fact in duration, there is simply the duration, and the matter and the

act of intuition are only abstractions by which we describe and explain

it.

The effort of intuition is the reversal of the intellectual effort to

abstract and explain which is our usual way of treating facts, and

these two ways of attending are incompatible and cannot both be carried

on together. Intuition, (or, to give it a more familiar name, direct

knowledge,) reveals fact: intellectual attention analyses and

classifies this fact in order to explain it in general terms, that is

to explain it by substituting abstractions for the actual fact.

Obviously we cannot perform acts of analysis without some fact to serve

as material: analysis uses the facts supplied by direct knowledge as

its material. Bergson maintains that in so doing it limits and distorts

these facts and he says that if we are looking for speculative

knowledge we must go back to direct knowledge, or, as he calls it,

intuition.

But bare acquaintance is in-communicable, moreover it requires a great

effort to maintain it. In order to communicate it and retain the power

of getting the facts back again after we have relaxed our grip on them

we are obliged, once we have obtained the fullest direct knowledge of

which we are capable, to apply the intellectual method to the fact thus

revealed and attempt to describe it in general terms.

Now the directly known forms a creative duration whose special

characteristics are that it is non-logical, (i.e., is not made up of

distinct mutually exclusive terms united by external relations) and

does not contain parts which can be repeated over and over, while on

the other hand the terms which we have to substitute for it if we want

to describe it only stand for repetitions and have the logical form. It

looks, therefore, as if our descriptions could not, as they stand, be

very successful in conveying to others the fact known to us directly,

or in recalling it to ourselves.

In order that the description substituted by our intellectual activity

for the facts which we want to describe may convey these facts it is

necessary to perform an act of synthesis on the description analogous

to the act of perception which originally created the fact itself out

of mere matter. The words used in a description should be to the hearer

what mere matter is to the perceiver: in order that matter may be

perceived an act of synthesis must be performed by which the matter is

turned into fact in duration: similarly in order to gather what a

description of a fact means the hearer must take the general terms

which are employed not as being distinct and mutually exclusive but as

modifying one another and interpenetrating in the way in which the

“parts” of a process of creative duration interpenetrate. In the same

way by understanding the terms employed synthetically and not

intellectually we can use a description to recall any fact which we

have once known directly. Thus our knowledge advances by alternate acts

of direct acquaintance and analysis.

Philosophy must start from a fresh effort of acquaintance creating, if

possible, a fact wider and fuller than the facts which we are content

to know for the purposes of everyday life. But analysis is essential if

the fact thus directly known is to be conveyed to others and recalled.

By analysis the philosopher fixes this wider field in order that he may

communicate and recall it. Starting later from the description of some

fact obtained by a previous effort of acquaintance, or from several

facts obtained at different times, and also from the facts described by

others, and using all these descriptions as material, it may be

possible, by a fresh effort, to perform acts of acquaintance, (or

synthesis) embracing ever wider and wider fields of knowledge. This,

according to Bergson, is the way in which philosophical knowledge

should be built up, facts, obtained by acts of acquaintance, being

translated into descriptions only that these descriptions may again be

further synthesised so directing our attention to more and more

comprehensive facts.

Inevitably, of course, these facts themselves, being less than all the

stream of creative duration to which they belong, will be abstractions,

if taken apart from that whole stream, and so distorted. This flaw in

what we know even by direct acquaintance can never be wholly remedied

short of our succeeding in becoming acquainted with the whole of

duration. It is something, however, to be aware of the flaw, even if we

cannot wholly remedy it, and the wider the acquaintance the less is the

imperfection in the fact known.

The first step, in any case, towards obtaining the wider acquaintance

at which philosophy aims consists in making the effort necessary to rid

ourselves of the practical preoccupation which gives us our bias

towards explaining everything long before we have allowed ourselves

time to pay proper attention to it, in order that we may at least get

back to such actual facts as we do already know directly. When this has

been accomplished (and our intellectual habits are so deeply ingrained

that the task is by no means easy) we can then go on to other

philosophers’ descriptions of the facts with which their own efforts to

widen their direct knowledge have acquainted them and, by synthesising

the general terms which they have been obliged to employ, we also may

come to know these more comprehensive facts. Unless it is understood

synthetically, however, a philosopher’s description of the facts with

which he has acquainted himself will be altogether unsatisfactory and

misleading. It is in this way that Bergson’s own analysis of the fact

which we all know directly into matter and the act of memory by which

matter is turned into a creative process should be understood. The

matter and the act of memory are both abstractions from the actual

fact: he does not mean that over and above the fact there is either any

matter or any force or activity called memory nor are these things

supposed to be in the actual fact: they are simply abstract terms in

which the fact is described.

Bergson tries elsewhere to put the same point by saying that there are

two tendencies in reality, one towards space (that is logical form) and

the other towards duration, and that the actual fact which we know

directly “tends” now towards “space” and now towards duration. The two

faculties intellect and intuition are likewise fictions which are not

really supposed to exist, distinct from the fact to which they are

applied, but are simply abstract notions invented for the sake of

description.

Whatever the description by which a philosopher attempts to convey what

he has discovered we shall only understand it if we remember that the

terms in which the fact is described are not actually parts of the fact

itself and can only convey the meaning intended if they are grasped by

synthesis and not intellectually understood.

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE DEVONSHIRE PRESS, TORQUAY

International Library of Psychology Philosophy and Scientific Method

GENERAL EDITOR - - - - C. K. OGDEN, M. A.

(_Magdalene College, Cambridge_).

_VOLUMES ALREADY ARRANGED:_

PHILOSOPHICAL STUDIES

_by_ Q. E. MOORE, Litt. D.

CONFLICT AND DREAM

_by_ W. H. R. RIVERS, F. R. S.

THE MEASUREMENT OF EMOTION

_by_ W. WHATELY SMITH _Introduction by William Brown_.

THE ANALYSIS OF MATTER

_by_ BERTRAND RUSSELL, F. R. S.

MATHEMATICS FOR PHILOSOPHERS

_by_ G. H. HARDY, F. R. S.

PSYCHOLOGICAL TYPES

_by_ C. G. JONG, M. D., LL. D.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF REASONING

_by_ EUGENIO RIGNANO

THE ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOTHERAPY

_by_ WILLIAM BROWN, M. D., D. Sc.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS

_by_ E. VON HARTMANN

THE FOUNDATIONS OF MUSICAL AESTHETICS

_by_ W. POLE, F. R. S. _Edited by Edward J. Dent_.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MUSIC

_by_ EDWARD J. DENT

SOME CONCEPTS OF SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT

_by_ C. D. BROAD, Litt. D.

PHILOSOPHICAL LOGIC

_by_ L. WITTGENSTEIN _Introduction by Bertrand Russell_.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF ' AS IF

_by_ H. VAIHINGER

THE LAWS OF FEELING

_by_ F. PAULHAN

THE HISTORY OF MATERIALISM

_by_ F. A. LANGE

COLOUR-HARMONY

_by_ JAMES WOOD and C. K. OGDEN

THE STATISTICAL METHOD IN ECONOMICS AND POLITICS

_by_ P. SARGANT FLORENCE

THE PRINCIPLES OF CRITICISM

_by_ I. A. RICHARDS

The Misuse of Mind · 第 3 / 3 章