But I am also using observation in a sense in which we can be said actually to observe a movement. We commonly say that we can sometimes see a red billiard ball moving towards a white one on a green table. And, here again, I do not mean to include in what is directly perceived or observed, all that we mean by saying that the two objects perceived are billiard-balls. But I do mean to include what (we should say) we actually see. We actually see a more or less round red patch moving towards a more or less round white patch; we see the stretch of green between them diminishing in size. And this perception is not merely the same as a series of perceptions—first a perception of a red patch with a green stretch of one size between it and the white; then a perception of a red patch with a green stretch of a different size between it and the white; and so on. In order to perceive a movement we must have a different perception from any one of these or from the sum of them. We must actually see the green stretch diminishing in size.
Now it is undoubtedly difficult, in some instances, to decide precisely what is perceived in this sense and what is not. But I hope I have said enough to show that I am using "perceive" and "observe" in a sense in which, on a given occasion, it is easy to decide that some things certainly are perceived, and other things, as certainly, are not perceived. I am using it in a sense in which we do perceive such a complex object as a white patch moving towards a red one on a green field; but I am not using it in any sense in which we could be said to "perceive" or "observe" that what we saw moving was a billiard-ball. And in the same way I think we can distinguish roughly between what, on any given occasion, we perceive, as we say, "by any one of the other senses," and what we do not perceive by it. We can say with certainty that, on any given occasion, there are certain kinds of "content" which we are actually hearing, and others which we are not actually hearing; though with regard to some again it is difficult to say whether we are actually hearing them or not. And similarly we can distinguish with certainty in some instances, between what we are on a given occasion, actually smelling or feeling, and what we are not actually smelling or feeling.
But now, besides these kinds of "things," "objects," or "contents," which we perceive, as we say, "by the senses," there is also another kind which we can be said to observe. Not only can I observe a red and blue book side by side; I can also observe myself observing them. I can perceive a red patch moving towards a white, and I can also perceive my perception of this movement. And what I wish to make as plain as I can is that my perception of the movement of a coloured patch can at least be distinguished from that movement itself. I wish to make it plain that to observe a coloured patch moving is to observe one thing; and to observe myself observing a coloured patch moving is another. When I observe my own perception of a movement, I observe something more than when I merely observe the movement, and something very different from the movement. I may perceive a red and a blue book side by side on a shelf; and at another time I may perceive a red ball moving towards a white. The red and blue patch, of one shape, at rest side by side, are different from the red, of another shape, moving towards the white; and yet, when I say that both are "perceived," I mean by "perceived" one and the same thing. And since, thus, two different things may both be perceived, there must also be some difference between each of them and what is meant by saying that it is perceived. Indeed, in precisely the same way In which I may observe a spatial relation between a red patch and a blue (when I observe them "side by side") I do, when I observe my own perception of them, observe a spatial relation between it and them. I observe a distance between my perception and the red and blue books which I perceive, comparable in magnitude with the breadth or height of the blue book, just as these are comparable in magnitude with one another. And when I say I observe a distance between my perception of a red book and that red book itself, I do not mean that I observe a distance between my eyes, or any other part of what I call my body, and the red patch in question. I am talking not of my eyes, but of my actual perception. I observe my perception of a book to be near the book and further from the table, in exactly the same sense in which I observe the book to be near the shelf on which it stands, and further from the table. And just as, if the distance between a red patch and a white is to be perceived, the red patch must be different from the white, so, if I perceive a certain distance between my perception and the red patch, my perception must be different from the red patch which I perceive.
I assume, then, that we observe, on the one hand, coloured patches of certain shapes and sizes, and their spatial relations to one another, together with all the other kinds of "contents," which we should usually be said to perceive "through the senses." And, on the other hand, we also sometimes observe our own perceptions of such "contents" and our thoughts. And these two kinds of "content" are different from one another: my perception of a red patch with gold letters on it, is not itself a red patch with gold letters on it; and hence, when I observe my perception of this patch, I observe something different from that which I observe when I merely perceive the patch. Either of these two kinds of "content"—either colours, moving or at rest, sounds, smells, and all the rest—or, on the other hand, my perceptions of these—either of these two kinds, or both, might conceivably, since both are observed, give grounds for a generalisation concerning what exists. But, as I have said, if observations are to give any ground for such a generalisation, it must be assumed that what Is observed exists or is real. And since, as I have insisted, when I observe my perception of a red patch with gold letters on it, I observe something different from what I observed when I merely observed a red patch with gold letters on it, it follows that to assume the existence of my perception of this red and gold is not the same thing as to assume the existence of the red and gold itself.
But what, it may be asked, do I mean by this property of "existence" or "reality," which may, it would seem, belong to every content, which I observe, or may again belong to none, or which may belong to some and not to others? What is this property which may belong to my perception of a movement, and yet not belong to the movement perceived, or which may again belong to the movement perceived and not to my perception of it, or which may again belong to both or to neither?
It is necessary, I think, to ask this question at this point, because there are some philosophers who hold that, in the case of some kinds of "content," at all events, to say that they "exist" is to say that they are "perceived." Some hold that to say "A exists" is to say neither more nor less than "A is perceived"—that the two expressions are perfect synonyms; and others again would say that by "A exists or is real" we may mean more than that "A is perceived," but that we must at least mean this. Now, I have hitherto used the word "existence" pretty freely, and I think that, when I used it, I used it in its ordinary sense. I think it will generally have suggested to you precisely what I meant to convey, and I think that, in some cases at all events, it will not even have occurred to you to doubt whether you did understand what I meant by it. But, if these philosophers are right, then, if you have understood what I meant by it, I have all along been using it in a sense, which renders the end of my last paragraph perfect nonsense. If these philosophers are right, then, when I assert that what is perceived may yet not exist, I am really asserting that what is perceived may yet not be perceived—I am contradicting myself. I am, of course, quite unaware that I am doing so. But these philosophers would say either you are contradicting yourself, or you are not using the word "exists" in its ordinary sense. And either of these alternatives would be fatal to my purpose. If I am not using the word in its ordinary sense, then I shall not be understood by anyone; and, if I am contradicting myself, then what I say will not be worth understanding.
Now, with one class of these philosophers—the class to which, I think, Berkeley belongs—I think I can put myself right comparatively easily. The philosophers I mean are those who say that it is only in the case of one particular class of "contents" (the kind of "content" which Berkeley calls "ideas") that to say "the 'content' A exists" is to say "A is perceived," and who admit that in the case of other contents—myself and my perceptions and thoughts, for example—to say that these exist or are real, is to say of them something different from this. These philosophers admit, that is to say, that the word "exists" has two different senses: and that in only one of these senses is it synonymous with the words "is perceived." When (they hold) I say of such a content as a red patch with gold letters on it that it "exists" I do mean that it is perceived; but when I say of my perception of such a patch that it exists, I do not mean that my perception is perceived but something different from this. Now, it would be nothing strange that one and the same word should be used in two different senses; many words are used in many different senses. But it would, I think, be something very strange indeed, if in the case of a word which we constantly apply to all sorts of different objects, we should uniformly apply it to one large class of object in the one sense and the one sense only and the other large class in the other sense and the other sense only. Usually, in the case of such ambiguous words, it happens that, in different contexts, we apply it to one and the same object in both senses. We sometimes wish to say of a given object that it has the one property, and sometimes we wish to say of the same object that it has the other property; and hence we apply the same word to the same object, at one time in one sense, and at another in the other. I think, therefore, that, even if there were these two different senses of the word "existence," it would be very unlikely that we should not commonly, in some contexts, apply it in the sense, in which (as is alleged) it does apply to perceptions, to "contents" which are not perceptions. Indeed, I think, it is quite plain that we constantly do ask, with regard to what is not a perception, whether it exists, in precisely the same sense, in which we ask, with regard to a perception, whether it exists. We ask in precisely the same sense: Was the Roc a real bird, or merely an imaginary one? and, did Sindbad's perception of the Roc really exist, or is it a fiction that he perceived a Roc? I think, therefore, that the sense in which these philosophers admit that we do apply the word "existence" to perceptions, is one in which we also commonly apply it to "contents" other than perceptions. But, even if this is not the case, I can set myself right with them by a simple explanation. I need merely explain that the sense in which I am proposing to enquire whether a red patch exists, is precisely the sense in which they admit that my perception of a red patch does exist. And in this sense, it is plain that to suppose that a thing may exist, which is not perceived, or that it may not exist, although it is perceived, is at least not self-contradictory.
But there may be other philosophers who will say that, in the case of a perception also, to say that it exists or is real is to say that it is perceived—either that alone or something more as well. And to these philosophers I would first point out that they are admitting that the proposition "This perception is real" is significant. There is some sense or other in which we may say: "Alexander's perception of an elephant was real or did exist, but Sindbad's perception of a Roc was not real—never did exist": the latter proposition is, in some sense or other, not self-contradictory. And then I would ask of them: When they say, that to call a perception "real" is to assert that it is perceived, do they mean by this that to call it real is to assert that it is really perceived, or not? If they say "No," then they are asserting that to call a perception "real" is merely to say that it was perceived in the sense in which Sindbad did perceive a Roc: they are asserting that to call it "real" is not to say, in any sense, that it was really perceived: they are asserting that to call a perception "real" is to say that it was perceived, in some sense quite other than that in which we ordinarily use the word: for we certainly commonly mean, when we say "A was perceived," that a perception of A was "real": we should commonly say that Sindbad did not perceive a Roc—meaning that no such perception ever did exist. I do not think they do mean this; and, in any case, if they do, I think it is plain that they are wrong. When we say that a perception is "real," we certainly do not mean merely that it is the object of another perception, which may itself be quite unreal—purely Imaginary. I assume, therefore, that when they say: To call a perception "real" is to say that it is perceived; they mean, what we should naturally understand, namely, that: To call it "real" is to say that it is really perceived—to say that it is the object of another perception, which is also real in the same sense. And, if they mean this, then what they say is certainly untrue. Their definition of reality is circular. It cannot be the case that the only sense in which a perception may be said to be real, is one in which to call it so is to assert that not it alone, but another perception is real also. It cannot be the case that the assertion "A is real" is identical with the assertion "A and B are both real," where A and B are different, and "real" is used in the same sense as applied to both. If it is to be true that the assertion "A is real" ever, in any sense, includes the assertion "A is really perceived," there must be another sense of the word "real," in which to assert "A is real" is to assert less than "A is really perceived"—the sense, namely, in which we here assert that the perception of A is real.
We find, therefore, that the other class of philosophers were at least right in this: they were right in allowing that the sense in which we commonly say that our perceptions exist is one in which "exist" does not include, even as a part of its meaning, "is perceived." We find that there is a common sense of the word "existence," in which to say "A exists" must mean less than "A is really perceived": since, otherwise, the only possible definition of the word "existence" would be a circular definition. And I may point out that two other definitions, which have been sometimes suggested by philosophers as giving what we commonly mean by "reality" or "existence" are vitiated by the same fault—they also are circular. Some philosophers have sometimes suggested that when we call a thing "real," we mean that it is "systematically connected" in some way with other things. But, when we look into their meaning, we find that what they mean is (what, indeed, is alone plausible)—systematically connected with other real things. And it may possibly be the case that we sometimes use the word "real" in this sense: but, at least, it must be certainly the case, that, if we do, we also use it in another and simpler sense—the sense in which it is employed in the proposed definition. And other philosophers have suggested that what we mean by "real" is—"connected in some way with a purpose—helping or hindering, or the object of a purpose." But if we look into their meaning, we find they mean—connected with a real purpose. And hence, even if we do sometimes mean by "real," "connected with a real purpose," it is plain we also sometimes mean by "real" something simpler than this—that namely, which is meant by "real" in the proposed definition.