existence, it is the only one that we are tracing here; the only one,
obviously, which human discourse is competent to trace.

[Sidenote: Animal living.]

When consciousness begins to add diversity to its intensity, its value
is no longer absolute and inexpressible. The felt variations in its tone
are attached to the observed movement of its objects; in these objects
its values are imbedded. A world loaded with dramatic values may thus
arise in imagination; terrible and delightful presences may chase one
another across the void; life will be a kind of music made by all the
senses together. Many animals probably have this form of experience;
they are not wholly submerged in a vegetative stupor; they can discern
what they love or fear. Yet all this is still a disordered apparition
that reels itself off amid sporadic movements, efforts, and agonies. Now
gorgeous, now exciting, now indifferent, the landscape brightens and
fades with the day. If a dog, while sniffing about contentedly, sees
afar off his master arriving after long absence, the change in the
animal's feeling is not merely in the quantity of pure pleasure; a new
circle of sensations appears, with a new principle governing interest
and desire; instead of waywardness subjection, instead of freedom love.
But the poor brute asks for no reason why his master went, why he has
come again, why he should be loved, or why presently while lying at his
feet you forget him and begin to grunt and dream of the chase--all that
is an utter mystery, utterly unconsidered. Such experience has variety,
scenery, and a certain vital rhythm; its story might be told in
dithyrambic verse. It moves wholly by inspiration; every event is
providential, every act unpremeditated. Absolute freedom and absolute
helplessness have met together: you depend wholly on divine favour, yet
that unfathomable agency is not distinguishable from your own life. This