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PSYCHOLOGY (>Guxrl, the mind or soul,...

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Originally appearing in Volume V22, Page 554 of the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica.
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PSYCHOLOGY (>Guxrl, the mind or soul, and X yos, theory), the science of mind, which can only be more strictly defined by an analysis of what " mind " means. I. In the several natural sciences the scope and subject-matter of each are so evident that little preliminary discussion is called The Science for. But with psychology, however much it is freed of from metaphysics, this is different. It is indeed ordinarily assumed that its subject-matter can be at once defined. " It is what you can perceive by consciousness or reflection or the internal sense, " says one, " just as the subject-matter of optics is what you can perceive by sight." Or, " psychology is the science of the phenomena of mind," we are told again, " and is thus marked off from the physical sciences, which treat only of the phenomena of matter." But, whereas nothing is simpler than to distinguish between seeing and hearing, or between the phenomena of heat and the phenomena of gravitation, a very little reflection may convince us that we cannot in the same fashion distinguish internal from external sense, or make clear to ourselves what we mean by phenomena of mind as distinct from phenomena of matter. To every sense there corresponds a sense-organ; the several senses are distinct and independent, so that no one sense can add Interna/ead to or alter the materials of another: the possession external of five senses, e.g. furnishing no data as to the character of a possible sixth. Moreover, sense-impressions are passively received and occur in the first instance without regard to the feeling or volition of the recipient and without any manner of relation to the " contents of consciousness " at the moment. Now such a description will apply but very partially to the so-called " internal sense." For we do not by means of it passively receive impressions differing from all previous presentations, as the sensations of colour for one " couched " differ from all he has experienced before: the new facts consist rather in the recognition of certain relations among pre-existing presentations, i.e. are due to our mental activity and not to a special mode of what has been called our sensitivity. For when we taste we cannot hear that we taste, when we see we cannot smell that we see; but when we taste we may be conscious that we taste, when we hear we may be conscious that we hear. Moreover, the facts so ascertained are never independent of feeling and volition and of the contents ofconsciousness at the time, as true sensations are. Also if we consult the physiologist we learn that there is no evidence of any organ or " centre " that could be regarded as the " physical basis " of this inner sense; and, if self-consciousness alone is temporarily in abeyance and a man merely " beside himself," such state of delirium has little analogy to the functional blindness or deafness that constitutes the temporary suspension of sight or hearing. To the concept of an internal perception or observation the preceding objections do not necessarily apply—that is to say, this concept may be so defined that they need not. But then in proportion as we escape the change of assuming a special sense which furnishes the material for such perception or observation, in that same proportion are we compelled to seek for some other mode of distinguishing its subject-matter. For, so far as the mere mental activity of perceiving or observing is concerned, it is not easy to see any essential difference in the process whether what is observed be psychical or physical. It is quite true that the so-called psycho-logical observation is more difficult, because the facts observed are often less definite and less persistent, and admit less of actual isolation than physical facts do; but the process of recognizing similarities or differences, the dangers of mal-observation or non-observation, are not materially altered on that account. It may be further allowed that there is one difficulty peculiarly felt in psychological observation, the one most inaccurately expressed by saying that here the observer and the observed are one. But this difficulty is surely in the first instance due to the very obvious fact that our powers of attention are limited, so that we cannot alter the distribution of attention at any moment without altering the contents of consciousness at that moment. Accordingly, where there are no other ways of surmounting this difficulty, the psycho-logical observer must either trust to representations at a later time, or he must acquire the power of taking momentary glances at the psychological aspects of the phase of consciousness in question. And this one with any aptitude for such studies can do with so slight a diversion of attention as not to disturb very seriously either the given state or that which immediately succeeds it. But very similar difficulties have to be similarly met by physical observers in certain special cases, as, e.g. in observing and registering the phenomena of solar eclipse; and similar aptitudes in the distribution of attention have to be acquired, say, by extempore orators or skilful surgeons. Just as little, then, as there is anything that we can with propriety call an inner sense, just so little can we find in the process of inner perception any satisfactory characteristic of the subject-matter of psychology. The question still is: What is it that is perceived or observed ? and the readiest answer of course is: Internal experience as distinguished from external, what, takes place in the mind as distinct from what takes place without. This answer, it must be at once allowed, is adequate for most purposes, and a great deal of excellent psychological work has been done without ever calling it in question. But the distinction between internal and external experience is not one that can be drawn from the standpoint of psychology, at least not at the outset. From this standpoint it appears to be either (i) inaccurate or (2) not extra-psychological. As to (I), the boundary between the internal and the external was, no doubt, originally the surface of the body, with which the subject or self was identifed; and in this sense the terms are of course correctly used. For a thing may, in the same sense of the word, be in one space and therefore not in—i.e. out of—another; but we express no intelligible relation if we speak of two things as being one in a given room and the other in last week. Any one is at liberty to say if he choose that a certain thing is " in his mind "; but if in this way he distinguishes it from something else not in his mind, then to be intelligible this must imply one of two statements—either that the something else is actually or possibly in some other mind, or, his own mind being alone considered, that at the time the something else does not exist at all. Yet, evident as it seems that the correlatives in and not-in must apply to the same category, whether space, time, presentation (or non-presentation) to a given subject, and so forth, we still find psychologists more or less consciously confused between " internal," meaning " presented " in the psychological sense, and " external, meaning not " not-presented " but corporeal or oftener extra-corporeal. But (2), when used to distinguish between presentations (some of which, or some relations of which with respect to others, are called " internal," and others or other relations, " external "), these terms are at all events accurate; only then they cease to mark off the psychological from the extra-psychological, inasmuch as psychology has to analyse this distinction and to exhibit the steps by which it has come about. But we have still to examine whether the distinction of phenomena of Matter and phenomena of Mind furnishes a better dividing line than the distinction of internal and external. A phenomenon, as commonly understood, is what is manifest, sensible, evident, the implication being that there are eyes to see, ears to hear, and so forth—in other words, that there is menial and presentation to a subject; and wherever there is presenta- Material. tion to a subject it will be allowed that we are in the domain of psychology. But in talking of physical phenomena we, in a way, abstract from this fact of presentation. Though consciousness should cease, the physicist would consider the sum total of objects to remain the same: the orange would still be round, yellow and fragrant as before. For the physicist—whether aware of it or not—has taken up a position which for the present may be described by saying that phenomenon with him means appearance or manifestation, or—as we had better say—object, not for a concrete individual, but rather for what Kant called Bewusstsein iiberhaupt, or, as some render it, the objective consciousness, i.e. for an imaginary subject freed from all the limitations of actual subjects save that of depending on " sensibility " for the material of experience. However, this is not all, for, as we shall see presently, the psychologist also occupies this position; at least if he does not his is not a true science. But, further, the physicist leaves out of sight altogether the facts of attention, feeling, and so forth, all of which actual presentation entails. From the psycho-logical point of view, on the other hand, the removal of the subject removes not only all such facts as attention and feeling, but all presentation or possibility of presentation whatever. Surely, then, to call a certain object, when we abstract from its presentation, a material phenomenon, and to call the actual presentation of this object a mental phenomenon, is a clumsy and confusing way of representing the difference between the two points of view. For the terms " material " and " mental " seem to imply that the two so-called phenomena have nothing in common, whereas the same object is involved in both, while the term " phenomenon " implies that the point of view is in each case the same, when in truth what is emphasized by the one the other ignores. 2. Paradoxical though it may be, we must then conclude that psychology cannot be defined by reference to a special subject-Standpoint matter as such concrete sciences, for example, as of Psycho- mineralogy and botany can be; and, since it deals in logy. some sort with the whole of experience, it is obviously not an abstract science in any ordinary sense of that term. To be characterized at all, therefore, apart from metaphysical assumptions, it must be characterized by the standpoint from which this experience is viewed. It is by way of expressing this that widely different schools of psychology define it as subjective, all other positive sciences being distinguished as objective. But this seems scarcely more than a first approximation to the truth, and, as we have seen incidentally, is apt to be misleading. The distinction rather is that the standpoint of psychology is what is sometimes termed " individualistic," that of the so-called object-sciences beiAg " universalistic," both alike being objective in the sense of being true for all, consisting of what Kant would call judgments of experience. For psychology is not a biography in any sense, still less a biography dealing with idiosyncrasies, and in an idiom having an interest and a meaning for one subject only, and incommunicable to any other. Locke, Berkeley and Hume have been severely handled because they regarded the critical investigation of knowledge as a psychological problem, and set to work to study the individual mind simply for the sake of this problem. But none the less their standpoint was the proper one for the science of psychology itself; and, however surely their philosophy was foredoomed to a collapse, there is no denying a steady psychological advance as we pass from Locke to Hume and his modern representatives. By " idea " Locke tells us he means " Whatsoever is the object of the understanding when a man thinks " (i.e. is conscious), and having, as it were, shut himself within such a circle of ideas he finds himself powerless to explain his knowledge of a world that is assumed to be independent of it; but he is able to give a very good account of some of these ideas themselves. He cannot justify his belief in the world of things whence certain of his simple ideas " were conveyed " any more than Robinson Crusoe could have explored the continents whose products were drifted to his desert island, though he might perhaps survey the island itself well enough. Berkeley accordingly, as Professor Fraser happily puts it, abolished Locke's hypothetical outer circle. Thereby he made the psychological standpoint clearer than ever—hence the truth of Hume's remark, that Berkeley's arguments " admit of no answer "; at the same time the epistemological problem was as hopeless as before—hence again the truth of Hume's remark that those arguments " produced no conviction." Of all the facts with which he deals, the psychologist may truly say that their esse is percipi, inasmuch as all his facts are facts of presentation, are ideas in Locke's sense, or objects which imply a subject. Before we became conscious there was no world for us; should our consciousness cease, the world for us ceases too; had we been born blind, the world would for us have had no colour; if deaf, it would have had no sounds; if idiotic, it would have had no meaning. Psychology, then, never transcends the limits of the individual. But now, though this Berkeleyan standpoint is the standpoint of psychology, psychology is not pledged to the method employed by Berkeley and by Locke. Psychology may be individualistic without being confined exclusively to the introspective method. There is nothing to hinder the psychologist from employing materials furnished by his observations of other men, of infants, of the lower animals, or of the insane; nothing to hinder him taking counsel with the philologist or even the physiologist, provided always he can show the psychological bearings of those facts which are not directly psychological. The standpoint of psychology is individualistic; by whatever methods, from whatever sources its facts are ascertained, they must—to have a psychological import—be regarded as having place in, or as being part of, some one's consciousness or experience. In this sense, i.e. as presented to an individual, " the whole choir of heaven and furniture of earth " may belong to psychology, but otherwise they are psychological nonentities. In defining psychology, however, the propriety of avoiding the terms mind or soul, which it implies, is widely acknowledged; mind because of the disastrous dualism of mind and matter, soul because of its metaphysical associations. Hence F. A. Lange's famous mot : modern psychology is Psychologie ohne Seele. But consciousness, which is the most frequent substitute, is continually confused with self-consciousness, and so is apt to involve undue stress on the subjective as opposed to the objective, as well as to emphasize the cognitive as against the conative factors. Experience, it is maintained, is a more fundamental and less ambiguous term. Psychology then is the science of individual experience. The problem of psychology, in dealing with this complex subject-matter, is in general—first, to ascertain its ultimate constituents, and, secondly, to determine and explain the laws of their interaction. General Analysis. 3. In seeking to make a first general analysis of experience, we must start from individual human experience, for this alone is what we immediately know. From this standpoint we must endeavour to determine the " irreducible minimum " involved, so that our concept may apply to all lower forms of experience as well. Etymologically experience connotes practical acquaintance, efficiency and skill as the result of trial—usually repeated trial—and effort. Many recent writers on comparative psychology propose to make evidence of experience in this sense the criterion of psychical life. The ox knoweth his owner and the ass his master's crib, and so would pass muster; but the ant and the bee, who are said to learn nothing, would, in spite of their marvellous instinctive skill, be regarded as mere automata in Descartes's sense. That this criterion is decisive on the positive side will hardly be denied; the question how far it is available negatively we must examine later on. But it will be well first briefly to note some of the implications of this positive criterion: Experience is the process of becoming expert by experiment. The chief implication, no doubt, is that which in psycho-logical language we express as the duality of subject and object. Looking at this relation as the comparative psychologist has to do, we find that it tallies in the main with the biological relation of organism and environment. The individuality of the organ-ism corresponds to, though it is not necessarily identical with, the psychological subject, while to the environment and its changes corresponds the objective continuum or totum objectivum as we shall call it. This correspondence further helps us to see still more clearly the error of regarding individual experience as wholly subjective, and at the same time helps us to find some measure of truth in the naive realism of Common Sense. As these points have an important bearing on the connexion of psychology and epistemology, we may attempt to elucidate them more fully. Though it would be unwarrantable to resolve a thing, as some have done, into a mere meeting-point of relations, yet it is perhaps as great a mistake to assume that it can be anything determinate in itself apart from all relations to other things. By the physicist this mistake can hardly be made: for him action and reaction are strictly correlative: a material system can do no work on itself. For the biologist, again, organism and environment are invariably complementary. But in psychology, when presentations are regarded as subjective modifications, we have this mistaken isolation in a glaring form, and all the hopeless difficulties of what is called " subjective idealism " are the result. Subjective modifications no doubt are always one constituent of individual experience, but always as correlative to objective modifications or change in the objective continuum. If experience were throughout subjective, not merely would the term subjective itself be meaningless, not merely would the conception of the objective never arise, but the entirely impersonal and intransitive process that remained, though it might be described as absolute becoming, could not be called even solipsism, least of all real experience. Common Sense, then, is right in positing, wherever experience is inferred, (I) a factor answering to what we know as self, and (2) another factor answering to what each of us knows as the world. It is further right in regarding the world which each one immediately knows as a coloured, sounding, tangible world, more exactly as a world of sensible qualities. The assumption of na5ve realism, that the world as each one knows it exists as such independently of him, is questionable. But this assumption goes beyond individual experience, and does not, indeed could not, arise at this standpoint. Answering to the individuality and unity of the subjective factor, there is a corresponding unity and individuality of the objective. Every Ego has its correlative Non-Ego, whence in the end such familiar saying as quot homilies tot sententiae and the like. The doctrine of Leibnitz, that " each monad is a living mirror. . . representative of the universe according to its point of view," will, with obvious reservations, occur to many as illustrative here. In particular, Leibnitz emphasized one point on which psychology will do well to insist. "Since the world is a plenum," he begins, " all things are connected together and everybody acts upon every other, more or less, according to their distance, and is affected by their reaction; hence each monad is a living mirror,"1 &c. Subject and Object, or (as it will be clearer in this connexion to say) Ego and Non-Ego, are then not merely logically a universe, but actually the universe, so that, as Leibnitz put it, " He who sees all could read in each what is happening everywhere " (Monadology, § 61). Though every individual experience is unique, yet the more Ego' is similar to Ego2 the more their complementaries Non-Ego1, Non-Ego2 are likewise similar; much as two perspective projections are more similar the more adjacent their points of sight, and more similar as regards a given position the greater its distance from both points. No doubt we must also make a very extensive use of the hypothesis of subconsciousness, just as Leibnitz did, before we can say that the universe is the objective factor in each and every individual's experience. But we shall have in any case to allow that, besides the strictly limited " content " rising above the threshold of consciousness, there is an indefinite extension of the presentational continuum beyond it. And the Leibnitzian Monadology helps us also to clear up a certain con-fusion that besets terms such as " content of consciousness," or " finite centre of experience " —a barbarous but intelligible phrase that has recently appeared—the confusion, that is, with a mosaic of mutually exclusive areas, or with a scheme of mutually exclusive logical compartments. Consciousnesses, though in one respect mutually exclusive, do not limit each other in this fashion. For there is a sense in which all individual experiences are absolutely the same, though relatively different as to their point of view, i.e. as to the manner in which for each the same absolute whole is sundered into subjective and objective factors. This way of looking at the facts of mind helps, again, to dispel the obscurity investing such terms as subjective, intersubjective, 1 Principles of Nature and Grace, § 3. transsubjective and objective, as these occur in psychological or epistemological discussions. For the psychologist must maintain that no experience is merely subjective: it is only epistemologists (notably Kant) who so describe individual experience, because objects experienced in their concrete particularity pertain, like so many idiosyncrasies, to the individual alone. In contrast with this, epistemologists then describe universal experience—the objects in which are the same for every experient —as objective experience par excellence. And so has arisen the time-honoured opposition of Sense-knowledge and Thought-knowledge: so too has arisen the dualism of Empiricism and Rationalism, which Kant sought to surmount by logical analysis. It is in the endeavour to supplement this analysis by a psycho-logical genesis that the terms intersubjective and transsubjective prove useful. The problem for psychology is to ascertain the successive stages in the advance from the one form of experience or knowledge to the other. " When ten men look at the sun or the moon," said Reid, " they all see the same individual object." But according to Hamilton this statement is not " philosophically correct . . . the truth is that each of these persons sees a different object. . . . It is not by perception but by a process of reasoning that we connect the objects of sense with existences beyond the sphere of immediate knowledge." 2 Now it is to this " beyond " that the term transsubjective is applied, and the question before us is: How do individual subjects thus get beyond the immanence or immediacy with which all experience begins? By a " process of reasoning," it is said. But it is at least true in fact, whether necessarily true or not, that such reasoning is the result of social intercourse. Further, it will be generally allowed that Kant's Analytik, before referred to, has made plain the insufficiency of merely formal reasoning to yield the categories of Substance, Cause and End, by which we pass from mere perceptual experience to that wider experience which transcends it. And psychology, again, may claim to have shown that in fact these categories are the result of that reflective self-consciousness to which social intercourse first gives rise. But such intercourse, it has been urged, presupposes the common ground between subject and subject which it is meant to explain. How, it is asked, if every subject is confined to his own unique experience, does this intersubjective intercourse ever arise ? If no progress towards intellective synthesis were possible before inter-subjective intercourse began, such intercourse, as presupposing something more than immediate sense-knowledge, obviously never could begin.' Let us illustrate by an analogy which Leibnitz's association of experience with a " point of view " at once suggests. If it were possible for the terrestrial astronomer to obtain observations of the heavens from astronomers in the neighbouring stars, he would be able to map in three dimensions constellations which now he can only represent in two. But unless he had ascertained unaided the heliocentric parallax of these neighbouring stars, he would have no means of distinguishing them as near from the distant myriads besides, or of understanding the data he might receive; and unless he had first of all determined the still humbler geocentric parallax of our sun, those heliocentric parallaxes would have been unattainable. So in like manner we may say " intersubjective parallax " presupposes what we may call " subjective parallax," and even this the psychological duality of object and subject. But such subjective parallax or acquaintance with other like selves is the direct outcome of the extended range in time which memory proper secures; and when in this way self has become an object, resembling objects become other selves or " ejects," to adopt with slight modification a term originated by the late W. K. Clifford. We may be quite sure that his faithful dog is as little of a solipsist as the noble savage whom he accompanies. Indeed, the rudiments of the social factor are, if we may judge by biological evidence, to be found very early. Sexual union in the physiological sense occurs in all but the lowest Metazoa, pairing and courtship are frequent among insects, while " among the cold-blooded fishes the battle of the stickleback with his rivals, his captivating manoeuvres to lead the female to the nest which he has built, his mad dance of passion around her, and his subsequent jealous guarding of the nest, have often been observed and admired." ' Among birds and mammals 2 Lectures on Metaphysics, ii. 153. And it is precisely for want of this mediation that Kant's " two stems of human knowledge, which perhaps may spring from a common but to us unknown root," leave epistemology still more or less hampered with the old dualism of sense and understanding. Evolution of Sex, by Geddes and Thomson, 1st ed. p. 265. we find not merely that these psychological aspects of sexual life are greatly extended, but we find also prolonged education of off-spring by parents and imitation of the parents by offspring. Even language, or, at any rate " the linguistic impulse," is not wholly absent among brutes.' Thus as the sensori-motor adjustments of the organism to its environment generally advance in complexity and range, there is a concomitant advance in the variety and intimacy of its relations specially with individuals of its kind. It is therefore reasonable to assume no discontinuity between phases of experience that for the individual are merely objective and phases that are also ejective as well; and once the ejective level is attained, some interchange of experience is possible. So disappears the great gulf fixed betwixt subjective or individual and intersubjective or universal experience by rival systems in philosophy. 4. From this preliminary epistemological discussion we may pass on to the psychological analysis of experience itself. As to this, there is in the main substantial agreement; the elementary facts of mind cannot be expressed in less than three propositions—" I feel somehow," " I know something," " I do something." But here at once there arises an important question, viz. What after all are we to understand by the subject of these propositions? The proposition " I feel somehow " is not equivalent to " I know that I feel somehow." To identify the two would be to confound consciousness with self-consciousness. We are no more confined to our own immediate observations here than elsewhere; but the point is that, whether seeking to analyse one's own consciousness or to infer that of a lobster, whether discussing the association of ideas or the expression of emotions, there is always an individual self or " subject " in question. It is not enough to talk of feelings or volitions: what we mean is that some individual—man or worm—feels, strives, acts, thus or thus. Obvious as this may seem, it has been frequently either forgotten or gainsaid. It has been forgotten among details or through the assumption of a medley of faculties, each treated as an individual in turn, and among which the real individual was lost. Or it has been gainsaid, because to admit that all psychological facts pertain to an experiencing subject or experient seemed to imply that they pertained to a particular spiritual substance, which was simple, indestructible, and so forth; and it was manifestly desirable to exclude such assumptions from psychology as a science aiming only at a systematic exposition of what can be known and verified by observation. But, however, 'much assailed or disowned, the concept of a " mind " or conscious subject is to be found implicitly or explicitly in all psychological writers whatever—not more in Berke-ley, who accepts it as a fact, than in Hume, who treats it as a fiction. This being so, we are far more likely to reach the truth eventually if we openly acknowledge this inexpugnable assumption, if such it prove, instead of resorting to all sorts of devious periphrases to hide it. Now wherever the word Subject, or its derivatives, occurs in psychology we might substitute the word Ego and analogous derivatives, did such exist. But Subject is almost always the preferable term; its impersonal form is an advantage, and it readily recalls its modern correlative Object. Moreover, Ego has two senses, distinguished by Kant as pure and empirical, the latter of which was, of course, an object, the Me known, while the former was subject always, the I knowing. By pure Ego or Subject it is proposed to denote here the simple fact that everything experienced is referred to a Self experiencing. This psychological concept of a self or subject, then, is after all by no means identical with the metaphysical concepts of a soul or mind-atom, or of mind-stuff not atomic; it may be kept as free from metaphysical implications as the concept of the biological individual or organism with which it is so intimately connected. The attempt, indeed, has frequently been made to resolve the former into the latter, and so to find in mind only such an indiattemptstoviduality as has an obvious counterpart in this individuextrude the ality of the organism, i.e. what we may call an objective Ego, individuality. But such procedure owes all its plausi- bility to the fact that it leaves out of sight the difference between the biological and the psychological standpoints. All that the biologist means by a dog is " the sum of the phenomena I Cf. Darwin, Descent of Man, i. 56. which make up its corporeal existence." 2 And, inasmuch as its presentation to any one in particular is a point of no importance, the fact of presentation at all may be very well dropped out of account. Let us now turn to psychology: Why should we not here follow Huxley and take the word ' soul ' simply as a name for the series of mental phenomena which make up an individual mind " ? 3 Surely the moment we try distinctly to under-stand this question we realize that the cases are different. " Series of mental phenomena " for whom ? For any passer-by such as might take stock of our biological dog ? No, obviously only for that individual mind itself ; yet that is supposed to be made up of, to be nothing different from, the series of phenomena. Are we, then, (I) quoting J. S. Mill's words, " to accept the paradox that something which ex hypothesi is but a series of feelings, can be aware of itself as a series " ? 4 Or (2) shall we say that the several parts of the series are mutually phenomenal, much as A may look at B, who was just now looking at A ? Or (3) finally, shall we say that a large part of the so-called series, in fact every term but one, is phenomenal for the rest—for that one ? As to the first, paradox is too mild a word for it; even contradiction will hardly suffice. It is as impossible to express " being aware of " by one term as it is to express an equation or any other relation by one term: what knows can no more be identical with what is known than a weight with w at it weighs. If a series of feelings is what is known or presented, then what knows, what it is presented to, cannot be that series of feelings, and this without regard to the point Mill mentions, viz. that the infinitely greater part of the series is either past or future. The question is not in the first instance one of time or substance at all, but simply turns upon the fact that knowledge or consciousness is unmeaning except as it implies some-thing knowing or conscious of something But it may be replied: Granted that the formula for consciousness is something doing some-thing, to put it generally; still, if the two somethings are the same when I touch myself or when I see myself, why may not agent and patient be the same when the action is knowing or being aware of ; why may I not know myself—in fact, do I not know myself ? Certainly not; agent and patient never are the same in the same act; such terms as self-caused, self-moved, self-known, et id genus omne, either connote the incomprehensible or are abbreviated expressions —as, e.g. touching oneself when one's right hand touches one's left. And so we come to the alternative: As one hand washes the other, may not different members of the series of feelings be subject and object in turn ? Compare, for example, the state of mind of a man succumbing to temptation (as he pictures himself enjoying the coveted good and impatiently repudiates scruples of conscience or dictates of prudence) with his state when, filled with remorse, he sides with conscience and condemns this " former self "—the " better self " having meanwhile become supreme. Here the cluster of presentations and their associated sentiments and motives, which together played the role of self in the first situation, have—only momentarily it may be true, but still have—for the time the place of not-self ; and under abnormal circumstances this partial alternation may become complete alienation, as in what is called " double consciousness." Or again, the development of self-consciousness might be loosely described as taking the subject or self of one stage as an object in the next—self being, e.g. first identified with the body and afterwards distinguished from it. But all this, however true, is beside the mark; and it is really a very serious misnomer to speak, as e.g. Herbert Spencer does, of the development of self-consciousness as a " differentiation of subject and object." It is, if anything, a differentiation of object and object, i.e. in plainer words, it is a differentiation among presentations—a differentiation every step of which implies just that relation to a subject which it is supposed to supersede. There still remains the alternative, expressed in the words of J. S. Mill, viz. " the alternative of believing that the Mind or Ego is some-thing different from any series of feelings or possibilities of them." To admit this, of course, is to admit the necessity of distinguishing between Mind or Ego, meaning the unity or continuity of consciousness as a complex of presentations, and Mind or Ego as the subject to which this complex is presented. In dealing with the body from the ordinary biological standpoint no such necessity arises. But, whereas there the individual organism is spoken of unequivocally, in psychology, on the other hand, the individual mind may mean either (i.) the series of feelings or " mental phenomena' above referred to; or (ii.) the subject of these feelings for whom they are phenomena; or (iii.) the subject of these feelings or phenomena plus the series of feelings or phenomena themselves, the two being in that relation to each other in which alone the one is subject and the other a series of feelings, phenomena or objects. It is in this last sense that Mind is used in empirical psychology.5 Its exclusive use in the first sense is favoured only by those who shrink from the speculative associations connected with its exclusive use in the 4 T. H.'Huxley, Hume, " English Men of Letters Series," (1879), p. 171. 3 Huxley, op. cit. p. 172. 4 Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy, ch. xii. fin. 5 A meaning better expressed, as said above, by experience. Subject or Ego. second. But psychology is not called upon to transcend the relation of subject to object or, as we may call it, the fact of presentation. On the other hand, as has been said, the attempt to ignore one term of the relation is hopeless; and equally hopeless, even futile, is the attempt, by means of phrases such as consciousness or the unity of consciousness, to dispense with the recognition of a conscious subject. 5. We might now proceed to inquire more closely into the character and relations of the three invariable constituents of Feeling. psychical life which are broadly distinguished as cognitions, feelings and conations. But we should be at once confronted by a doctrine which, strictly taken, amounts almost to a denial of this tripartite classification of the facts of mind—the doctrine, viz. that feeling alone is primordial and invariably present wherever there is consciousness at all. Every living creature, it is said, feels, though it may never do any more; only the higher animals, and these only after a time, learn to discriminate and identify and to act with a purpose. This doctrine, as might be expected, derives its plausibility partly from the vagueness of psychological terminology, and partly from the intimate connexion that undoubtedly exists between feeling and cognition on the one hand and feeling and volition on the other. As to the meaning of the term, it is plain that further definition is requisite for a word that may mean (a) a touch, as feeling of roughness; (b) an organic sensation, as feeling of hunger; (c) an emotion, as feeling of anger; (d) feeling proper, as pleasure or pain. But, even taking feeling in the last, its stricter sense, it has been maintained that all the more complex forms of consciousness are resolvable into, or at least have been developed from, feelings of pleasure and pain. The only proof of such position. since we cannot directly observe the beginnings of conscious life, must consist of considerations such as the following. So far as we can judge, we find feeling everywhere; but, as we work downwards from higher to lower forms of life, the possible variety and the definiteness of sense-impressions both steadily diminish. Moreover, we can directly observe in our own organic sensations, which seem to come nearest to the whole content of primitive or infantile experience, an almost entire absence of any assignable quale. Finally, in our sense-experience generally, we find the element of feeling at a maximum in the lower senses and the cognitive element at a maximum in the higher. But the so-called intellectual senses are the most used, and use (we know) blunts feeling and favours intellection, as we see in chemists, who sort the most filthy mixtures by smell and taste without discomfort. If, then, feeling predominates more and more as we approach the beginning of conscious life, may we not conclude that it is its only essential constituent ? On the contrary, such a conclusion would be rash in the extreme. Two lines, e.g. may get nearer and nearer and yet will never meet, if the rate of approach is simply proportional to the distance. A triangle may be diminished indefinitely, and yet we cannot infer that it becomes eventually all angles, though the angles get no less and the sides do. Before, then, we decide whether pleasure or pain alone can ever constitute a complete experience, it may be well to inquire into the connexion between feeling and cognition, on the one hand, and between feeling and conation on the other, so far as we can now observe. And this is an inquiry which will help us towards an answer to our main question, namely, that concerning the nature and connexions of what are commonly regarded as the three ultimate facts of mind. Broadly speaking, in any state of mind that we can directly observe, what we find is (r) that we are aware of a certain change Relation of in our sensations, thoughts or circumstances, (2) Feeling to that we are pleased or pained with the change, and Cognition Coaa- (3) that we act accordingly. We never find that and tion. feeling directly alters- i.e. without the intervention of the action of which it prompts—either our sensations or situation, but that regularly these latter with remarkable promptness and certainty alter it. We have not first a change of feeling, and then a change in our sensations, perceptions and ideas; but, these changing, change of feeling follows. In short, feeling appears to be an effect, which therefore cannot exist withoutits cause, though in different circumstances the same immediate cause may produce a different amount or even a different state of feeling. Turning from what we may call the receptive phase of an experience to the active or appetitive phase, we find in like manner that feeling is certainly not—in such cases as we can clearly observe—the whole of what we experience at any moment. True, in common speech we talk of liking pleasure and disliking pain; but this is either tautology, equivalent to saying we are pleased when we are pleased and pained when we are pained; or else it is an allowable abbreviation, and means that we like pleasurable objects and dislike painful objects, as when we say we like feeling warm and dislike feeling hungry. But feeling warm or feeling hungry, we must remember, is not pure feeling in the stricter sense of the word. Within the limits of our observation, then, we find that feeling accompanies some more or less definite presentation which for the sake of it becomes the object of appetite or aversion; in other words, feeling implies a relation to a pleasurable or painful presentation or situation, that, as cause of feeling or as end of the action to which feeling prompts, is doubly distinguished from it. Thus the very facts that lead us to distinguish feeling from cognition and conation make against the hypothesis that consciousness can ever be all feeling. But, as already said, the plausibility of this hypothesis is in good part due to a laxity in the use of terms. Most psychologists before Kant, and some even to the present day, Feeling and speak of pleasure and pain as sensations. But it is sensation plain that pleasure and pain are not simple ideas, distinct. as Locke called them, in the sense in which touches and tastes are—that is to say, they are never like these localized or projected, nor are they elaborated in conjunction with other sensations and movements into percepts or intuitions of the external. This confusion of feeling with sensations is largely consequent on the use of one word pain both for certain organic sensations and for the purely subjective state of being pained. But such pains not only are always more or less definitely localized—which of itself is so far cognition, they are also distinguished as shooting, burning, gnawing, &c., all which symptoms indicate a certain objective quality. Accordingly psychologists have been driven by one means or another to recognize two " aspects " (Bain), or " properties " (Wundt), in what they call a sensation, the one a " sensible or intellectual " or " qualitative," the other an "affective" or "emotive," aspect or property. The term " aspect " is figurative and obviously inaccurate; even to describe pleasure and pain as properties of sensation is a matter open to much question. But the point which at present concerns us is simply that when feeling is said to be the primordial element in consciousness more is usually included under feeling than pure pleasure and pain, viz. some characteristic or quality by which one pleasurable or painful sensation is distinguishable from another. No doubt, as we go downwards in the chain of life the qualitative or objective elements in the so-called sensations become less and less definite; and at the same time organisms with well-developed sense-organs give place to others without any clearly differentiated organs at all. But there is no ground for supposing even the amoeba itself to be affected in all respects the same whether by changes of temperature or of pressure or by changes in its internal fluids, albeit all of these changes will further or hinder its life and so presumably be in some sort pleasurable or painful. On the whole, then, there are grounds for saying that the endeavour to represent all the various facts of consciousness as evolved out of feeling is due to a hasty striving after simplicity, and has been favoured by the ambiguity of the term feeling itself. If by feeling we mean a certain subjective state varying continuously in intensity and passing from time to time from its positive phase (pleasure) to its negative phase (pain), then this purely pathic state implies an agreeing or disagreeing something which psychologically determines it. If, on the other hand, we let feeling stand for both this state and the cause of it, then, perhaps, a succession of such " feelings " may make up a consciousness; but then we are including two of our elementary facts under the name of one of them. The simplest form of psychical life, therefore, involves not only a subject feeling but a subject having qualitatively distinguish-able presentations which are the occasion of its feeling. 6. We may now try to ascertain what is meant by cognition as an essential element in this life, or, more exactly, what we are to understand by the term presentation. It was an important step onwards for psychology when Locke introduced that " new way of ideas " which Stilling-fleet found alternately so amusing and so dangerous. By ideas Locke told him he meant " nothing but the immediate objects of our minds in thinking "; and it was so far a retrograde step when Hume restricted the term to certain only of these objects, or rather to these objects in a certain state, viz. as reproduced ideas or " images." And, indeed, the history of psychology seems to show that its most important advances have been made by those who have kept closely to this way of ideas; the establishment of the laws of association with their many fruitful applications and the whole Herbartian psychology may suffice as instances (see HERBART). The truth is that the use of such a term is itself a mark of an important generalization, one which helps to free us from the mythology and verbiage of the " faculty-psychologists." All the various mental facts spoken of as sensations, movements, percepts, images, in-tuitions, concepts, notions, have two characteristics in common: (r) they admit of being more or less attended to, and (2) they can be variously combined together and reproduced. It is here proposed to use the term presentation to denote them all, as being the best English equivalent for what Locke meant by idea and what Kant and Herbart called a 1%orstellung. A presentation has then a twofold relation—first, directly to the subject, and, secondly, to other presentations. The former relation answers to the fact that a presentation is attended to, that the subject is more or less conscious of it: it is " in his mind" or presented. As presented to a subject a presentation might with advantage be called an object, or perhaps a psychical object, to distinguish it from what are called objects apart from presentation, i.e. conceived as independent of any particular subject. Locke, as we have seen, did so call it; still, to avoid possible confusion, it may turn out best to dispense with the frequent use of object in this sense. But on one account, at least, it is desirable not to lose sight altogether of this, which is after all the stricter as well as the older signification of object, namely, because it enables us to express definitely, without implicating any ontological theory, what we have so far seen reason to think is the fundamental fact in experience. Instead of depending mainly on that vague and treacherous word " consciousness," or committing ourselves to the position that ideas are modifications of a certain mental substance or identical with the subject to whom they are presented, we may leave all this on one side, and say that ideas are objects, and the relation of objects to subjects—that whereby the one is object and the other subject—is presentation; and it is because only objects sustain this relation that they may be spoken of simply as presentations. On the side of the subject this relation implies what, for want of a better word, may be called attention, extending the denota- tion of this term so as to include even what we ordinarily call inattention. Attention so used will thus cover part of what is meant by consciousness—so much of it, that is, as answers to being mentally active, active enough at least to " receive impressions." Attention on the side of the subject implies intensity on the side of the object: we might indeed almost call intensity the matter of a presentation, without which it is a nonentity.' The inter-9bjective relations of presentations, on which Continuity their second characteristic, that of revivability and of Con- associability depends, though of the first, importsciousness. ance in themselves, hardly call for examination in a general analysis like the present. But there is one point ' Cf. Kant's Principle of the Anticipations of Perception: " In all phenomena the real, which is the object of sensation, has intensive magnitude."still more fundamental that we cannot wholly pass by: it is—in part at any rate—what is commonly termed the unity or continuity of consciousness. From the physical standpoint and in ordinary life we can talk of objects that are isolated and independent and in all respects distinct individuals. The screech of the owl, for example, has physically nothing to do with the brightness of the moon: either may come or go without changing the order of things to which the other belongs. But psychologically, for the individual percipient, they are parts of one whole; the more his attention is given to the one the more it is taken from the other. Also the actual recurrence of the one will afterwards entail the re-presentation of the other also. Not only are they still parts of one whole, but such distinctness as they have at present is the result of a gradual differentiation. It is quite impossible for us now to imagine the effects of years of experience removed, or to picture the character of our infantile presentations before our interests had led us habitually to concentrate attention on some and to ignore others. In place of the many things which we can now see and hear, not merely would there then be a confused presentation of the whole field of vision and of a mass of undistinguished sounds, but even the difference between sights and sounds themselves would be without its present distinctness. Thus the further we go back the nearer we approach to a total presentation having the character of one general continuum in which differences are latent. There is, then, in psychology, as in biology, what may be called a principle of " progressive differentiation or specialization ";2 and this, as well as the facts of reproduction and association, forcibly suggests the conception of a certain objective continuum forming the background or basis to the several relatively distinct presentations that are elaborated out of it—the equivalent, in fact, of that unity and continuity of consciousness which has been supposed to supersede the need for a conscious subject. There is one class of objects of special interest even in a general survey, viz. movements or motor presentations. These, like sensory presentations, admit of association and Motor Pre-reproduction, and seem to attain to such distinctness sensations. as they possess in adult human experience by a gradual differentiation out of an original diffused mobility which is little besides emotional expression. Of this, however, more presently. It is primarily to such dependence upon feeling that movements owe their distinctive character, the possession, that is, under normal circumstances, of definite and assignable psychical antecedents, in contrast to sensory presentations, which are devoid of them. We cannot psychologically explain the order in which particular sights and sounds occur; but the movements that follow them, on the other hand, can be adequately explained only by psychology. The twilight that sends the hens to roost sets the fox to prowl, and the lion's roar which gathers the jackals scatters the sheep. Such sub,ectfve diversity in the movements, although the sensory seiectton. presentations are similar, is due, in fact, to what we might call the principle of " subjective or hedonic selection "—that, out of all the manifold changes of sensory presentation which a given individual experiences, only a few are the occasion of such decided feeling as to become objects of possible appetite or aversion. It is thus by means of movements that we are more than the creatures of circumstances and that we can with propriety talk of subjective selection. The representation of what interests us comes then to be associated with the representation of such movements as will secure its realization, so that—although no concentration of attention will secure the requisite intensity to 'a pleasurable object present only in idea—we can by what is strangely like a concentration of attention convert the idea of a movement into the fact, and by means of the movement attain the coveted reality. 2 The biological principle referred to is that known as von Baer's law, viz. " that the progress of development is from the general to the special." Presentation. Attention. 7. And this has brought us round naturally to the third of the commonly accepted constituents of experience. What is conation, or rather conative action? For there are two ques- tions often more or less confused, the question of motive or spring of action, as it is sometimes called —why is there action at all? and the question of means—how do definite actions come about? The former question relates primarily to the connexion of conation and feeling. It is only the latter question that we now raise. In ordinary voluntary movement we have first of all an idea or re-presentation of the movement, and last of all the actual movement itself—a new presentation which may for the present be described as the filling out of the re-presentation, which thereby attains that intensity, distinctness and embodiment we call reality. How does this change come about? The attempt has often been made to explain it by a reference to the more uniform, and apparently simpler, case of reflex action, including under this term what are called sensori-motor and ideo-motor actions. In all these the movement seems to be the result of a mere trans- ference of intensity from the associated sensation or idea that sets on the movement. But when by some chance or mischance the same sensory presentation excites two or more nascent motor changes that conflict, a temporary block is said to occur; and, when at length one of these nascent motor changes finally prevails, then, it is said, " there is constituted a state of consciousness which displays what we term volition."' But this assumption that sensory and motor ideas are associated before volition, and that volition begins where automatic or reflex action ends, is due to that inveterate habit of confound- ing the psychical and the physical which is the bane of modern psychology. How did these particular sensory and motor presentations ever come to be associated? The only psycho- logical evidence we have of any very intimate connexion between sensory and motor representations is that furnished by our acquired dexterities, i.e. by such movement as Hartley2 styled " secondarily automatic." But then all these have been preceded by volition: as Herbert Spencer says, " the child learning to walk wills each movement before making it." Surely, then, a psychologist should take this as his typical case and prefer to assume that all automatic actions that come within his ken at all are in this sense secondarily automatic, i.e. to say that either in the experience of the individual or of his ancestors, volition or something analogous to it, preceded habit. But, if we are thus compelled by a sound method to regard sensori-motor actions as degraded or mechanical forms of voluntary actions, instead of regarding voluntary actions as gradually differentiated out of something physical, we have not to ask: What happens when one of two alternative movements is executed? but the more general question: What happens when any movement is made in consequence of feeling? It is obvious that on this view the simplest definitely purposive movement must have been preceded by some movement simpler still. For any distinct movement purposely made presupposes the ideal presentation, before the actual realization, of the movement. But such ideal presentation, being a re-presentation, equally presupposes a previous actual movement of which it is the so-called mental residuum. There is then, it would seem, but one way left, viz. to regard those movements which are immediately expressive of pleasure or pain as primordial, and to regard the so-called voluntary movements as elaborated out of these. The vague and diffusive character of these primitive emotional manifestations is really a point in favour of this position. For such " diffusion " is evidence of an underlying continuity of motor presentations parallel to that already discussed in connexion with sensory presentations, a continuity which, in each case, becomes differentiated in the course of experience into comparatively distinct and discrete movements and sensations respectively .3 1 Compare Spencer's Principles of Psychology, i. §§ 217, 8. s D. Hartley, Observations on Man (6th ed., 1834), pp. 66 sqq. It may be well to call to mind here that Alexander Bain also regarded emotional expression as a possible commencement of action, But whereas we can only infer, and that in a very roundabout fashion, that our sensations are not absolutely distinct but are parts of one massive sensation, as it were, we are still liable under the influence of strong emotion directly to experience the corresponding continuity in the case of movement. Such motor-continuum we may suppose is the psychical counterpart of that permanent readiness to act, or rather that continual nascent acting, which among the older physiologists was spoken of as " tonic action." This " skeletal tone," as it is now called, is found to disappear more or less completely from a limb when its sensory nerves are divided. " In the absence of the usual stream of afferent impulses passing into it, the spinal cord ceases to send forth the influences which maintain the tone."4 And a like intimate dependence, we have every reason to believe, obtains throughout between sensation and movement. We cannot imagine the beginning of life but only life begun. The simplest picture, then, which we can form of a concrete state of mind is not one in which there are movements before there are any sensations or sensations before there are any movements, but one in which change of sensation is followed by change of movement, the link between the two being a change of feeling. Having thus simplified the question, we may now ask again: How is this change of movement through feeling brought about? The answer, as already hinted, appears to be: Dependence By a change of attention. We learn from such of Action of observations as psychologists describe under the Feeling head of fascination, imitation, hypnotism, &c., that the mere concentration of attention upon a movement is often enough to bring the movement to pass. But, of course, in such cases neither emotion nor volition is necessarily implied; but none the less they show the close connexion that exists between attention and movement. Everybody, too, must often have observed how the execution of any but mechanical movements arrests attention to thoughts or sensations, and how, vice versa, a striking impression or thought interrupts him in the performance of skilled movements. Let us suppose, then, that we have at any given moment a certain distribution of attention between sensory and motor presentations; a change in that distribution then will mean a change in the intensity of some of all of these. But, in the case of motor presentations, change of intensity means change of movement. Such changes are, however, quite minimal in amount so long as the given presentations are not conspicuously agreeable or disagreeable. So soon as they are, however, there is evidence of a most intimate connexion between feeling and attention; but it is hardly possible adequately to exhibit this evidence without first attempting to ascertain the characteristics of the presentations, or groups of presentations, that are respectively pleasurable and painful, and this must occupy us later on. 8. We are now at the end of our analysis, and the results may perhaps be most conveniently summarized by first throwing them into a tabular form and then appending a primordial few remarks by way of indicating the main purport Facts of of the table. Taking no account of the specific mind. difference between one concrete state of mind and another, and supposing that we are dealing with presentations but only to reject it in favour of his own peculiar doctrine of " spontaneity," which, however, is open to the objection that it makes movement precede feeling instead of following it—an objection that would be serious even if the arguments advanced to support his hypothesis were as cogent as only Bain supposed them to be. Against the position maintained above he objects that " the emotional wave almost invariably affects a whole group of movements," and therefore does not furnish the " isolated promptings that are desiderated in the case of the will " (Mental and Moral Science, p. 323). But to make this objection is to let heredity count for nothing. In fact, wherever a variety of isolated movements is physically possible there also we always find corresponding instincts, " that untaught ability to perform actions," to use Bain's own language, which a minimum of practice suffices to perfect. But then these suggest gradual ancestral acquisition. 4 Foster, Text-Book of Physiology, § 597. conation. in their simplest form, i.e. as sensations and movements, we have: (I) non-voluntarily attend- ing presentation to changes in the _ sensory-continuum;) of sensory [Cognition] (2) being, in consequence, either pleased or pained ; [Feeling] and (3) by voluntary atten--Lion or " innervation " producing changes in the motor-continuum.', [Conation] Of the three phases or functions, thus analytically distinguish-able, but not really separable, the first and the third correspond in the main with the receptive and active states or powers of the older psychologists. The second, being more difficult to isolate, was long overlooked; or, at all events, its essential characteristics were not distinctly marked, so that it was confounded either with (r) which is its cause, or with (3), its effect. But perhaps the most important of all psychological distinctions is that which traverses both the old bipartite and the prevailing tripartite analysis, viz. that between the subject on the one hand, as acting and feeling, and the objects of this activity on the other. With this distinction clearly before us, instead of crediting the subject with an indefinite number of faculties or capacities, we must seek to explain not only reproduction, association, &c., but all varieties of thinking and acting, by the laws pertaining to ideas or presentations, leaving to the subject only the one power of variously distributing that attention upon which the intensity of a presentation in part depends. What we call activity in the narrower sense (as e.g. purposive movement and intellection) is but a special form of this single subjective activity, although a very important one. According to this view, then, presentations, attention, feeling, are not to be regarded as three co-ordinate genera, each of which is a complete " state of mind or consciousness," i.e. as being all alike included under this one supreme category. There is, as Berkeley long ago urged, no resemblance between activity and an idea; nor is it easy to see anything common to pure feeling and an idea, unless it be that both possess intensity. Classification seems, in fact, to be here out of place. Instead, therefore, of the one summum genus, state of mind or consciousness, with its three co-ordinate subdivisions—cognition, emotion, conationour analysis seems to lead us to recognize three distinct and irreducible components—attention, feeling, and objects or presentations—as together, in a certain connexion, constituting one concrete state of mind or psychosis. Of such concrete states of mind or psychoses we may then say—so far agreeing with the older, bipartite psychology—that there are two forms, corresponding to the two ways in which attention may be determined and the two classes of objects attended to in each, viz. (r) the sensory or receptive attitude, when attention is non-voluntarily determined, i.e. where feeling follows the act of attention; and (2) the motor or active attitude, where feeling precedes the act of attention, which is thus determined voluntarily. Attention. 9. Instead of a congeries of faculties we have assumed a single subjective activity and have proposed to call this attention. Some further explication of this position seems to be desirable. We start with the duality of subject and object as fundamental. We say of man, mouse, or monkey that it feels, perceives, remembers, infers, strives, and so forth. Leaving aside the first term, it is obvious that all the rest imply both an activity and an object. Is it possible to resolve these instances into a form in which the assumed diversity of the act will appear as a diversity of the object? At first sight it looks rather as if the kind 1 To cover more complex cases we might here add the words " or trains of ideas."of activity might vary while the object remained the same; that e.g. we perceived an object and later on remembered or desired it. It would then be most natural to refer these several activities to corresponding faculties of perception, memory and desire. This, indeed, is the view embodied in common speech, and for practical purposes it is doubtless the simplest and the best. Nevertheless, a more thorough analysis shows that when the supposed faculty is different the object is never entirely and in all respects the same. Thus in perception, e.g. we deal with " impressions " or primary presentations, and in memory and imagination with " ideas " (in the later sense) or secondary presentations. In desire the want of the object gives it an entirely different setting, adding a new characteristic, that of value or worth, so that its acquisition becomes the end of a series of efforts or movements. The older psychology, by its acceptance of the Cartesian doctrine that all the facts of immediate experience are to be interpreted as subjective modifications, failed to distinguish adequately between the subject as active and the objects of its activity. Hence the tendency to rest content with the popular distinction of various faculties in spite of the underlying sameness implied in the common application of " conscious " to them all. In fact, Locke's definition of idea (in the older and wider sense) as the immediate object of consciousness or thinking was censured by Reid as " the greatest blemish in the Essay on Human Understanding." But, accepting this definition as implied in the duality of subject and object, and accepting too the underlying sameness which the active form "conscious" undeniably implies, we have simply to ask: " Which is the better term to denote this common element—consciousness or attention?" Consciousness, as the vaguest, most protean and most treacherous of psychological terms, will hardly serve our purpose. Attention, on the other hand, has an invariable active sense, and there is an appropriate verb, to attend. But many things, it may be said, are presented while few are attended to; if attention is to be made coextensive with the activity implied in consciousness, will not the vital distinction between attention and inattention be lost? In fact, however, this distinction implies a covert comparison, not an absolute contrast. In everyday life we recognize many degrees of attention, ranging from an extreme of intense concentration to one of complete remission, as Locke long ago pointed out.2 Between these extremes there is perfect continuity, and not a difference of kind; to apply the one term attention to the whole range is very like applying the one term magnitude to large and small quantities alike. But it is not enough to show that when we commonly talk of different faculties we also find psychological differences of object, and to assert that if there is one common factor in all psychical activity this factor is attention. To make our position secure it is needful to show directly that all the various faculties with which a subject can be credited are resolvable into attention and various classes or relations or states of presentations that are attended to. How far this is possible remains to be seen as we proceed. In the case of the so-called " intellectual powers " the position is generally conceded, but so far as the voluntary or active powers are concerned it is as generally denied. Now, in so far as volition implies not merely action, overt or intended, but also motives, in so far also it must be acknowledged it contains a factor not resolvable into attention to motor presentations. This further factor, which has been called "the volitional character of feeling," we here leave aside. Apart from this direct spring of action, then, the question is whether the active process itself differs from the cognitive or receptive process 2 " That there are ideas, some or other, always present in the mind of a waking man, every one's experience convinces him; though the mind employs itself about them with several degrees of attention. Sometimes the mind fixes itself with such intention . . . that it shuts out all other thoughts and takes no notice of the ordinary impressions made on the senses; . . .at other times it barely observes the train of ideas . . . without directing and pursuing any of them; and at other times it lets them pass almost quite unregarded as faint shadows that make no impression " (Essay, ii. 19, §§ 3, 4). A SUBJECT = Presentation of motor
End of Article: PSYCHOLOGY (>Guxrl, the mind or soul, and X yos, theory)
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