If Reason only were a bolt from the blue! Or if X were such a bolt and could lend Reason a little current! But X itself wakens in a particular instinct, self-regard, and it is wakened by nothing. X does not mark the place where the will is to be found, it marks the place where the _body_ is to be found. And what is McDougall’s conclusion of the whole matter? What one might expect. “The stallion arches his thick neck ... the bull bellows; the lion roars; the cat caterwauls; and the young man curls his mustache.” 2. PSYCHE WIELDS THE BROOM In an unclaimed desert anyone may erect fences, but it is difficult to see how fences, especially when they are only imaginary, can earn dividends if they enclose no cattle. McDougall introduces us to a region where there is not even sand--only words. And nothing is required of these words, whether they be conveniently Latin or less conveniently English, except that they follow one another in grammatical order. He makes distinction after distinction; and as they are verbal distinctions merely, all that ensues when they contradict each other is a conflict like that of several contending currents of air. We see now why Dr. Watson so much objected to the introspective method. In truth, “introspective” is an unhappy term. We may note what goes on inside of our bodies, and even of our brains to a certain extent; and give names to various thoughts, feelings and sensations, or to what we take to be such. We can tell in what order they occur. But this is not introspection in any literal sense, it is simply paying attention to things which are intimate and near. Actually to try to look inside of “ourselves,” implies that “we” are standing outside and looking in--an impossible situation. Its physical counterpart is the attempt to roll the eyeballs so as to get a view of the interior of the skull--a performance not to be recommended. The outer world, physicists tells us, is a “continuum,” something all of a piece. A chair and the air around it are not so separate as one might suppose. It is the sense of touch and the sense of sight which distinguish so sharply between one and the other. Make the chair of glass, and the eye is not so certain. Lenses and mirrors can be so arranged as to project a visible chair which the hand cannot feel. Make the chair of aromatic wood and the sense of smell will perceive it as pervasively emanating from a vague center yet permeating the whole room.