Very largely, ideal. It shows an ideal process which,

beginning from the unity of feeling, produces the

differences of self and not-self, and separates the

divisions of the world from themselves and from

me. All this wealth, that is,

subsists through a divorce between the sides of

existence and character. What is meant by any one of the

portions of my world is emphatically not a mere fact of

experience. If you take it there, as it exists there, it

always is something, but this something can never be the

object in question. We may use as an example (if you

please) my horse or my own body. Both of these must, for

me at least, be nothing but "experience"; for, what I do

not "experience," to me must be nothing. And, if you

push home the question as to their given existence, you

can find it nowhere except in a state of my soul. When I

perceive them, or think of them, there is, so far, no

discoverable "fact" outside of my psychical condition.

But such a "fact" is for me not the "fact" of my horse

or, again, of my body. Their true existence is not that

which is present in my mind, but rather, as perhaps we

should say, present to it. Their existence is a content

which works apart from, and is irreconcilable with, its

own psychical being; it is a "what" discrepant with, and

transcending its "that." We may put it shortly by saying

that the true fact is fact, only so far as it is ideal.

Hence the Universe and its objects must not be called

states of my soul. Indeed it would be better to affirm

that these objects exist, so far as the psychical states

do not exist. For such experience of objects is

possible, only so far as the meaning breaks loose from

the given existence, and has, so regarded, broken this

existence in pieces. And we may state the conclusion

thus. If my psychical state does not exist, then the

object is destroyed; but, again, unless my state could,

as such, perish, no object would exist. The two sides of

fact, and of content working loose from that fact, are

essential to each other. But the essence of the second

is disruption of a "what" from a "that," while

in the union of these aspects the former has its life.

The soul is not the contents which appear in its

states, but, on the other hand, without them it would

not be itself. For it is qualified essentially by the

presence of these contents. Thus a man, we may say, is

not what he thinks of; and yet he is the man he is,

because of what he thinks of. And the ideal processes of

the content have necessarily an aspect of psychical

change. Those connections, which have nothing which is

personal to myself, cause a sequence of my states when

they happen within me. Thus a principle, of logic or

morality, works in my mind. This principle is most

certainly not a part of my soul, and yet it makes a

great difference to the sequence of my states. I shall

hereafter return to this point, but it would belong to

psychology to develope the subject in detail. We should

have there to point out, and to classify, the causes

which affect the succession of psychical

phenomena. It is enough here to have laid stress on an

essential distinction. Ideal contents appear in, and

affect, my existence, but still, for all that, we cannot

call them my soul.

We have now been led to two results. The soul is

certainly not all that which is present in experience,

nor, on the other hand, can it consist in mere

experience itself. It cannot be actual feeling, or that