But thou shouldst then content thyself with saying,—“I feel myself affected in the manner that I call red, blue, smooth, rough.” Thou shouldst place these sensations in thyself alone, and not transfer them to an object lying entirely out of thyself, and declare the modifications of thyself to be properties of this object.
Or, tell me, when thou believest that thou seest an object red, or feelest it smooth, dost thou really perceive anything more than that thou art affected in a certain manner?
I. From what has gone before, I have clearly seen, that I do not, in fact, perceive more than what thou sayest, and this transference of what is in me to something out of myself, from which nevertheless I cannot refrain, now appears very strange to me.
My sensations are in myself, not in the object, for I am myself and not the object; I am conscious only of myself and of my own state, not of the state of the object. If there be a consciousness of the object, that consciousness is, certainly, neither sensation nor perception:—thus much is clear.
Is there then in the object, as thou usually conceivest of it, anything more than its red colour, its smooth surface, and so on; in short, anything besides those characteristic marks which thou obtainest through immediate sensation?
I. I believe that there is: besides these attributes there is yet the thing itself to which they belong; the substratum which supports these attributes.
Spirit. But through what sense dost thou perceive this substratum of these attributes? Dost thou see it, feel it, hear it; or is there perhaps a special sense for its perception?
I. No. I think that I see and feel it.
Spirit. Indeed! Let us examine this more closely. Art thou then ever conscious of thy sight in itself, or at all times only of determinate acts of sight?
I. I have always a determinate sensation of sight.
Spirit. And what is this determinate sensation of sight, with respect to that object there?
I. That of red colour.
Spirit. And this red is something positive, a simple sensation, a specific state of thyself?
I. This I have understood.
Spirit. Thou shouldst therefore see the red in itself as simple, as a mathematical point, and thou dost see it only as such. In theeat least, as an affection of thyself, it is obviously a simple, determinate state, without connexion with anything else,—which we can only describe as a mathematical point. Or dost thou find it otherwise?
I. I must admit that such is the case.
Spirit. But now thou spreadest this simple red over a broad surface, which thou assuredly dost not see, since thou seest only a simple red. How dost thou obtain this surface?
I. It is certainly strange.—Yet, I believe that I have found the explanation. I do not indeed see the surface, but I feelit when I pass my hand over it. My sensation of sight remains the same during this process of feeling, and hence I extend the red colour over the whole surface which I feel while I continue to see the same red.
Spirit. This might be so, didst thou really feel such a surface. But let us see whether that be possible. Thou dost not feel absolutely; thou feelest only thy feelings, and art only conscious of these?
I. Certainly. Each sensation is a determinate something. I never merely see, or hear, or feel, in general, but my sensations are always definite;—red, green, blue colours, cold, warmth, smoothness, roughness, the sound of the violin, the voice of man, and the like,—are seen, felt, or heard. Let that be settled between us.
Spirit. Willingly.—Thus, when thou saidst that thou didst feel a surface, thou hadst only an immediate consciousness of feeling smooth, rough, or the like?
I. Certainly.
Spirit. This smooth or rough is, like the red colour, a simple sensation,—a point in thee, the subject in which it abides? And with the same right with which I formerly asked why thou didst spread a simple sensation of sight over an imaginary surface, do I now ask why thou shouldst do the same with a simple sensation of touch?
I.