constitution, — corresponding, in the one case, to a natural ten- dency, and in the other to natural tendencies as modified by edu- cation, i.e., by acquired tendencies. When we see that a man is unfitted by character, temperament, etc., for his post, we say that he is " a square peg in a round hole "; and by his ' squareness ' we mean his mental constitution, the mould of his character or the bent of his temperament. The prayer " Lead us not into tempta- tion " is an admission that conscious processes run in certain chan- nels more easily than in other channels, i.e., in biological language, that the organism leans in a certain direction, is more impression- able by certain stimuli than by others.
We represented mind, in Fig. i, as a complex of processes, increasing in complication from childhood to manhood, and de- creasing again from middle life to old age. We now see that, if the diagram is to be accurate, it must be drawn differently for every individual mind. Bodily tendency conditions the shape of the diagram. Mind is a stream of processes flowing between banks, through channels which are now deep-cut and now shallow, which lead now in this direction and now in that, which now incline easily downwards and now run at the same level. Just as the course of a river is determined by the nature of the country through which it passes, so the course or trend of mind is deter- mined by the nature of the nervous system, by the predominance of the one or the other biological tendency.
To establish the fact of differences of mental constitu- tion in a scientific way, we must observe our neighbours' minds in the light of an introspective analysis of our own. Two methods are open to us here, (i) We may compare the statements of other psychologists with our own intro- spective results. Then we find, perhaps, that one, wishing to recall the French equivalent of an English word, tries to remember how it looks, and another how it sounds; that the memory of one is * mechanical,' a storehouse of sepa- rate facts, while that of another is ' logical,' the facts re- 114 Conation and Attentio7t membered falling into connection and taking their places in a coherent and unified system of knowledge; that one reaches his conclusions * inductively,' gathering together a collection of instances, and seeking to find a single expla- nation for them all, while another argues 'deductively,' jumping at once from a few instances to a general hy- pothesis, and then testing this by applying it to other instances; and so on. (2) Or we may construct our neighbour's consciousness from his actions, reasoning by analogy that as our mental processes are of certain kinds when we act in a certain way, his mental processes must be of this or that kind, when he acts in this or that man- ner. And we are forced to the conclusion, here as before, that the course or trend of conscious processes differs very considerably in different individuals. Similar stimuli have widely different effects: the series of mental processes set up by them, — so far as it can be inferred from actions, — may be altogether dissimilar. The beetle crossing your path is intensely interesting to you, if you are an entomolo- gist, but may go unheeded, or even be an object of repug- nance, if you are not. A blow which ' crushes ' one man only serves to * bring out ' the character of another, who 'rises to the occasion.'
From observations of this kind we are led to classify minds under general headings. We are helped in two ways: we are constantly in the company of other people, and thus continually have thrust upon our notice the re- semblances and differences which obtain between them and ourselves; and we are sorted out, during childhood, into classes which show how our mental constitution is regarded by parents and teachers, — into ' good ' and 'naughty,' 'scatter-brained' and 'plodding,' 'ingenious' § 35- Bodily Tendency and Mental Constitution 115 and 'awkward.' So we come to think of minds as repre- senting different types: we classify our neighbours and ourselves as dull or clever, sanguine or melancholy, ready- witted or absent-minded, and so on. Although our bodily tendencies never become conscious, — introspection can- not discover any specific tendency-process, — yet we find mental phenomena which may legitimately be brought into connection with those undisputed biological facts to which the name of 'tendencies' is given. In this way we are able, as psychologists, to assert the existence of tendencies, despite the impossibility of any direct experience of them.
To emphasise stil] further the fact that the tendency does not correspond to a specific conscious process, and that therefore we have no direct knowledge of it, let us suppose that there were but one man in the world, and he an enthusiastic botanist. He would never know that he had a leaning towards the study of plants. There would be no opportunity for a comparison of his pursuits with those of other men, which would teach him that ' botanic consciousness ' and ' human consciousness ' are not identical ex- pressions. He could describe, by introspection, all his sensations and affections; but the existence of tendency would escape his notice altogether, because introspection would not reveal it.
In social life, on the other hand, where we can compare mind with mind, the manifestations of tendency are too evident to be overlooked. We know what various interests different people have; we know what radically different opinions two sane persons, the one ' emotionally ' and the other ' rationally ' minded, will draw from the same set of arguments; we know the ' professional atti- tude ' of the lawyer and physician and clergyman to the questions of the day. There are thus ample materials from which the idea of tendency may be formed, and good reasons for its persistence when it has once taken shape.
We may summarise the results of this Section in two propositions, (i) Tendencies and the causes of tenden- Ii6 Conation and Attention cies are in themselves phenomena which belong exclu- sively to the domain of physiology and biology. There is no tendency-process to be found in consciousness, co-or- dinate with the processes of sensation and affection. (2) But a comparison of minds enables us to form an idea of mental types or constitutions; and having learned from biology of the existence of tendencies, we are able to point to these as the conditions of mental constitution, and thus to account for fundamental differences between mind and mind which we could not otherwise have explained.
It should be noted that the present is a signal instance of the way in which one science may render assistance to another in the solution of a difficult problem. If we had confined our discussion to the sphere of psychology pure and simple, and employed the introspective method only, we should have been obHged to give a mere statement of the facts of mental constitution, coupled with the admission that we had no explanation of them to offer. To avoid this necessity, we have asked what biology has to say of the influences exerted upon the organism by heredity and environ- ment. By thus putting the individual mind in the perspective of mental evolution, we are able to dispose of the difficulty in a satis- factory way.
§ 36. The Question of a Third Conscious Element. — We have seen that the facts of mental constitution are so patent that they must be recognised and accounted for; but that introspection is, in the nature of things, incapable of furnishing the required explanation. Let us suppose, however, that a psychologist, confronted with the facts, does not think of going to biology for their reason, but attempts, in spite of all difficulties, to keep within the territory of psychology itself. If we follow out his argu- ment we shall be able to understand a common view of the nature of mind, — a view different from that which we have ourselves adopted (§3), but still so widely prevalent among educated persons as to seem, doubtless, to many readers, almost self-evident.
The psychologist of whom we are thinking will argue somewhat as follows. "We must, in every science, give the reason for what we observe. Now the reason for a sensation or an affection is obvious enough: it is always some observable change in the outside world or in con- sciousness, — the presentation of some stimulus or the arousal of some idea. But the reason for mental constitu- tion cannot be found in the action of stimulus: the consti- tution is there, before the stimulus acts, — as is shown by the effect of the beetle upon the entomologist. Neither can it be found in any preceding conscious processes: it is the business of mental constitution to decide, as it were, what our mental processes are to be, — entomological ideas or the feeling of disgust. No! to give a reason for the direction or trend of consciousness as a whole, we must assume the existence of a permanent mind behind the stream of conscious processes. The manifestations of mental type are obvious; but we cannot explain them in terms of physical or mental process. Hence we must infer that consciousness is something active and directive, able to shape and mould its own processes, and to origi- nate lines of thought or feeling."
It is not too much to say that belief in the activity or spontaneity of mind is almost universal; though the fact that the activity is, in the first place, not directly experi- enced as a conscious process, but inferred from the run or trend of conscious processes in general, is less univer- sally recognised. And the belief is by no means confined Ii8 Conation and Attention to popular thinking; it has had a marked influence upon psychology.
Since our supposed psychologist has gone beyond introspection, and has drawn inferences from the phenomena of consciousness to the existence of something behind consciousness which introspec- tion does not reveal, he has been forced, in spite of his resolve, to leave the ground of psychology proper and to appeal for help to some science which is not psychology. The science to which he appeals is metaphysics (§ 3); our own appeal was made to biology.
Metaphysics is the science which unifies and harmonises the principles and laws of all the other sciences. It follows from this that the discussions of metaphysics are always couched in general and abstract terms; and that it is wrong to appeal to it for an ex- planation of a single concrete fact. Just as, within the hmits of psychology, we should not explain the appearance of a particular conscious process — an emotion of hope, e.g. — by appealing to mental constitution, and saying that the subject of the emotion was naturally sanguine, but should look round for the special con- ditions of this particular hope; so, within the limits of science at large, we may not explain the appearance of a single phenomenon — the phenomenon of mental constitution — by appealing to meta- physics. Mental constitution is one particular scientific fact, and the emotion of hope is another. Both must be scientifically ex- plained, not metaphysically: both must be explained, that is, by a statement, in the terms of some special science, of the conditions under which they appear.^ Nevertheless, the metaphysical view is the common view. And the conviction of mankind at large, and its embodiment in cur- rent modes of expression, are usually strong enough to dominate our thought and language except on occasions of scientific investi- gation and discussion. The phrases which every one naturally 1 Whether or not the inference of mental activity is justifiable from the total sum of mental phenomena is a question which we can attempt to answer only at the conclusion of our examination of mind. We shall recur to it, therefore, in our final chapter (Ch. XV).
§ 3^- Question of a Third Conscious Element 1 19 uses in describing the phenomena of attention give a striking illustration of this fact. It is hardly possible to speak of attention without using such expressions as: "I turn my attention to," or '' I direct my attention upon," — expressions which, if understood literally, would make the ' I ' a source of spontaneous activity, and the ' attention ' a sort of lantern which the ' I ' holds in its hands.
Let us now follow the argument of our imaginary psy- chologist a little farther. *' I am convinced," he may go on, *' that there is a permanent mind behind the various types of mind, behind the varying manifestations of mind in conscious processes; and I am convinced that this mind is active and directive. Surely, this permanent and active mind must manifest its activity in some specific conscious process t Surely, there must be something other than sen- sations and affections to be found in mental experience.-^ Introspection must decide: and introspection does decide — in the affirmative. I find two conscious processes which give me a direct experience of activity or sponta- neity: conation and attention. My original inference, then, was plainly correct; it is confirmed by introspection. Not only must we infer from the facts of mind that mind is active; we have a direct experience of mental activity in certain well-marked conscious processes."
It is here that the belief in mental spontaneity begins to exert an influence upon scientific psychology. The argu- ment has taken on a new character: the venue is changed. Mental activity is no longer a metaphysical inference from the facts of mind; it is announced as an item of mental experience. And it thus becomes the business of the psy- chologist carefully to examine the processes which are said to bear witness to its reality; for the acceptance or rejection of a third elementary conscious process — an 120 Conation and Attention activity-process — is no light matter. The entire course of our subsequent psychological analysis, the fashion of our whole psychological system, will depend upon the decision to which our present enquiry leads.
It is important that the difference between inferred activity (metaphysical) and experienced activity (psychological) should be fully understood. We have refused to iiifer activity from the facts of mental constitution, because we thought it better, on prin- ciple, to appeal to other special sciences before we asked assist- ance from metaphysics, and because biology answered our appeal, and enabled us to give a reasonable explanation of the phenomena. But we cannot refuse to accept the verdict of introspection, if introspection says that there is a mental process of an ^ active ' quality, a mental experience which cannot be described except by the term * activity ' or * spontaneity.' No sensation or affection has this ' active ' quality.
And, physiologically, the existence of such a process is quite conceivable. Tendency may '■ set ' the cortex in a certain way, without arousing any conscious process; just as we * set ' an alarum- clock, without causing the bell to sound. But when the catch is released, the bell rings; and when the * set ' of the cortex is released, ' touched off ' in some way or other, a new mental process may be originated. The alleged active quality does not correspond to tendency, but to the ^ touch off' of tendency; not to the 'set' of the brain, but to the release of that set. It is not the fact of mental constitution which is becoming conscious when the new quaHty appears, but rather some specific realisation of mental con- stitution, say, the rush of an idea, aroused by external stimulus, into the channel which tendency has dug for it.
Our rejection of the activity-inference, then, need not impair our impartiality with regard to the suggested activity-experience. If we find this, we can very well give it a place, without changing our definition of mind and consciousness.
§ 37. Conation. — 'Conation' is the general name given to the experience of effort or endeavour, in whatever connection it occurs. The * conative consciousness ' is a con- sciousness which consists principally, or at least very noticeably, of the experience of effort. What we have to do, then, is to collect instances of this experience, and to assure ourselves, by repeated analysis and reconstruc- tion (§ 4), that it does or does not contain some specific conscious process other than sensation and affection.
The reason that the psychologist, who has inferred mental activity from the facts of mental constitution, points to the ex- perience of effort as a confirmation of his inference, is this. Effort is always involved, to some extent, in our experience of bodily exertion, continued bodily movement. Now the causes of bodily movement are not seldom beyond the reach of introspection: while in many cases we can trace, by careful introspection, the reason for a movement, there are many other cases in which we cannot. We should ourselves explain the facts by saying that many of the unconscious bodily tendencies are tendencies to movement, and that therefore the reasons for certain move- ments must be asked from biology and not from psychology. Our imagined psychologist has just the same facts before him that we have, and is just as little able as we are to explain them by appeal to introspection. But he refuses to ask biology to assist him in the solution of a psychological problem; and there- fore sees in movement, not a change in the organism due to physi- cal causes, but an expression of spontaneous activity; and in the conscious experience of effort which accompanies movement, not a complex of sensations and affection, but a specific mental process, the quality of which corresponds to that spontaneous activity.
Or we may put the reason in another way. We speak not of the movements of our fellow-men, but of their ' actions.' Men- tal ^ activity ' is regarded as precisely hke the ' activity ' which the living human organism shows in its actions. Hence it is natural that the experience which accompanies action should be the first experience examined by those who expect to find evidence of mental activity in some definite conscious process.
122 Conation and Attention The experience of effort occurs in many different con- nections. It always accompanies violent or long-continued bodily movement, the movements, e.g.y of fencing or of dumb-bell exercises. It is contained in the experience of resistance, as when we hold a door against some one who is trying to force his way into the room, or 'bear up' against some 'pressing' care. It appears also in the states of mind (the 'consciousnesses') which we call im- pulse, wish, desire, longing, aspiration; and in the experi- ences of * trying to remember,' ' trying to make up one's mind,' etc. All these cases, then, must be introspectively examined.
The first thing which introspection reveals is that effort is, like idea, a compound conscious process. Whether it contains a specific quality — a new conscious element — or not, it certainly comprises sensations and affection. The affection may be pleasantness or unpleasantness, accord- ing to the degree or amount of effort involved in the particular experience. The sensations are sensations of strain (tendinous), and the sensations which accompany movement (sensations of cutaneous and articular pressure, and of muscular contraction).
No one will doubt that these sensations are present in the first three instances given of effort: fencing, dumb-bell exercise, hold- ing a door. Their presence in the other experiences mentioned may seem to be less clear.
We must remember, however, that sensations may be aroused centrally (remembered or imagined) as well as peripherally (by the action of stimulus); and that they are just as much sensations in the former case as in the latter (§ 7). If, then, an actual movement and actual strain sensations can make up the experi- ence of effort, so can also remembered or imagined movement and remembered or imaghied strain sensations. Let the reader analyse his consciousness when next he thinks: " I do wish it was dinner-time! " He will find that it contains a pleasantness, con- nected with the idea of dinner, and various ideas of himself going to his dinner, i,e., making some bodily exertion. If the wish is very strong, however, he will find more than this: there will be real beginnings of movement in his body, a real beginning of ris- ing from the chair, or a turn to the wash-stand, or a passing of the hand over the hair, — the imagined movements and imagined sensations will be mixed with actual movements and actual sensa- tions aroused by them. Or again: suppose that one were paint- ing a picture to illustrate the phrase: " I do long to go to Italy! " One would paint a figure seated in a chair, leaning forward with clasped hands, the eyes eagerly and intently fixed. That is, one would paint with the assurance that the speaker would be seeing Italy 'in the mind's eye,' picturing the journey, and — more than that — actually starting to go, i.e., actually beginning the neces- sary movements. Here, too, we have imagined movement, cen- tral sensations of strain and pressure, mixed with actual sensations from muscle and tendon and joint. The forward inclination of the body and the eagerness of the eyes show that the ideas of the moment are pleasant. Once more: let the reader introspect when next he says: " If I only could remember that name! " He will find that his whole body has been braced, during the attempt to remember; that he has been frowning or wrinkling the forehead; that his eyes have wandered all round the room; per- haps, that he has from time to time held his breath and closed his eyes, to avoid any disturbance from outside. Along with all this has gone the unpleasant affection which comes with the feeling that he is baffled.
In every instance, then, we find in effort an affective quality and a complex of organic sensations, — largely, sensations of ten- dinous strain.
But, further, introspective analysis stops short at the discovery of these ingredients of effort. When we have taken the sensations and affection from the complex experience, there is nothing left: these are the only pro- 124 Conation and Attention cesses which introspection can find in it. And if we test analysis by synthesis, and try to reconstruct effort from organic sensations and affection, we are led to the same result; these components are enough to give us the effort experience. Hence we have no alternative but to conclude that effort furnishes no evidence of a third conscious element, the supposed elementary process of activity.
It cannot be too strongly urged that our introspection must be absolutely impartial, and extremely careful. Since the supposed activity-process is, by hypothesis, neither sensation nor affection, and since the rules which we possess for the use of introspection apply only to the examination of those two processes, we must employ the method in both of its possible forms: it may be that the activity-process would more nearly resemble sensation, or it may be that it would be more like an affection. When we inves- tigate effort as if it were sensation (§ 9), we come upon the com- plex of organic sensations referred to in the text; when we investigate it as if it were affection (§ -7)^)^ we come upon the affective quality which accompanies those sensations. Introspec- tion gives no hint of any further process.
Introspection must decide the matter: it is the final court of appeal. But it is reassuring to find that the result of introspec- tion is supported by outside evidence. This is of two kinds. (i) Those who beheve in the existence of a specific activity-pro- cess often allude to it as a ' sensation of effort ' or ' feehng of activity.' The expressions show that, even in their opinion, the experience of effort is a process which resembles the processes of sensation and affection. Why should it not be made up of these processes? (2) Intense effort is unpleasant, moderate effort pleasant, and minimal effort indifferent. This is just what we should expect if effort were composed of sensations: intense strain-sensations arise from excessive stimulation, and that is unpleasant; moderately strong sensations from moderate stimula- tion, which is exhilarating and pleasant, etc. (§ 34). Here is § 38. The Nature and Forms of Atte7ition 125 evidence, from the general behaviour of sensations and affection, that effort is made up of those two processes.
§ 38. The Nature and Forms of Attention. — Effort is, however, not the only fact of mental experience which has been brought forward in support of the view that we have a specific conscious process corresponding to mental activity and spontaneity. This specific activity-process, which we have failed to discover in conation, is said to be present in attention, to be a constituent of the attentive consciousness. And at first sight the statement seems to be well founded. If ever we act spontaneously, it is surely when we lay down a novel to turn our attention to work; if ever we select for ourselves, it is when we ignore the whole crowd of impressions which our sense- organs are receiving, to attend to some one idea. In both these cases the activity-process must be present, if it exist at all. We must therefore examine attention, if possible, even more carefully than we have examined conation. If we cannot discover the activity experience here, we shall not discover it anywhere: attention is the only remaining fact to which the champions of activity can appeal, and it is a fact which, on the face of it, appears to furnish a strong confirmation of their view.
We have more than once had occasion to remark that the idea to which we attend is made clearer, and lasts longer than other ideas. It is difficult to imagine how life could go on, if there were no such thing as attention. We should be at the mercy of every stimulus, internal or external, which was strong enough to arouse a conscious process; sustained thought and continued occupation would be impossible; consciousness would be a mixed medley of sensations and affections, strung together as the acci- dents of stimulation determined. The reality is very different.
126 Conation and Attention