LITMIR.BIZ

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phenomena of the mind—of that which is present to the mind; by Professor Tappan, as the necessary knowledge which the mind has of its own operations. These general definitions substantially agree. The mind is aware of its own operations, its sensations, perceptions, emotions, choices, etc., and the state or act of being thus cognizant of its own phenomena we designate by the general term Consciousness.

      Reasons for regarding Consciousness as not a distinct Faculty.—Is this, however, a distinct faculty of the mind? The mind, it is said, is always cognizant of its own operations: when it perceives, it is conscious of perceiving; when it reasons, it is conscious of reasoning; when it feels, it is conscious of feeling; and not to be conscious of any particular mental act, is not to perform that act. To have a sensation, and to be conscious of that sensation, it is said, are not two things, but one and the same, the difference being only in name. A perception is indivisible, cannot be analyzed into a fact, and the consciousness of the fact, for the perception is an act of knowing, and does not take place if it be not known to take place. This is the view taken by Sir William Hamilton, Professor Bowen, and others of high authority. It was maintained by Dr. Brown with much force as an objection to the doctrine of Reid, who had recognized consciousness as a distinct faculty.

      Reasons for the opposite View.—On the other hand, the claims of this form of mental activity to be regarded as a faculty of the mind, distinct from and coördinate with the other mental powers, are admitted and maintained by writers of authority, among whom are Dr. Wayland and President Mahan. They maintain that the office of consciousness being to give us knowledge of our own mental states, and this function being quite distinct from that of any other mental faculty, the capacity or power of performing this function deserves to be regarded as itself a faculty of the mind. It is maintained also by Dr. Wayland that consciousness does not necessarily invariably accompany all mental action, but that there may be, and are, acts of which we are not at the time conscious.

      Instances in proof of this Position.—In support of this position he refers to certain cases as instances of unconscious perception; as when, for example, a clock strikes within a few feet of us, while we are busily engaged, and we do not notice it, or know that it has struck, yet if questioned afterward, are conscious of an impression that we have heard it; as when also while reading aloud to another person, some thought arrests our attention, and yet by a sort of mechanical process, we continue the reading, our mind, meanwhile, wholly occupied with another subject, until presently we are startled to find that we have not the remotest conception of what we have just been reading; yet we read every word correctly, and must, it would seem, have perceived every word and letter. He refers also to the case of the short-hand writer to the House of Lords in England, who, on a certain occasion, while engaged in taking the depositions of witnesses in an important case, after many hours of continued exertion and fatigue, fell, for a few moments, into a state of entire unconsciousness, yet kept on writing down, and that with perfect accuracy, the depositions of the witness. Of the last few lines, when he came to read them, he had no recollection whatever, yet they were written as legibly and accurately as the rest. From these and similar cases it is inferred that there may be mental activity of which we have at the time no consciousness.

      The Evidence examined.—With regard to the cases now cited, it seems to me that they do not fully establish the point in question. For in the first place, it may be doubted whether they really involve any mental activity—whether they are properly mental acts, and not merely mechanical or automatic. It is well known that many processes which ordinarily require more or less attention may, when they have become perfectly familiar, be carried on for a time almost without thought. The senses, so far as they are required to act at all, seem in such cases to act mechanically or automatically, somewhat as a wheel when once set in motion continues for a time to revolve by its own momentum, after the propelling force is withdrawn. The mental activity exerted in such cases, if there be any, is so very slight as to escape attention, and we are unconscious of it simply because there was little or nothing to be conscious of. We have an illustration of this in the act of walking, while busily engaged in conversation with a friend, or in our own meditations. We are not conscious of any mental act preceding or directing each step and movement of the limbs, but having at the outset decided what direction to take, the mind gives itself to other matters, while the process of walking goes on by a sort of mechanical impulse, until presently something occurs to arrest our attention and direct it to the physical movement in which we are engaged. The muscular contractions tend to follow each other in a certain regular succession; a certain law of association seems to govern their movements, as is seen in the rapid motions of the pianist, the flute player, the type distributor, and in many similar cases; and so long as the regular succession, and accustomed order of movement, is undisturbed, the process goes on with little or no interference of the intellectual principle. In such cases the act can hardly be said to involve mental activity.

      A further Question.—But aside from this, even admitting that the acts under consideration are such as to involve mental activity, what evidence is there, it may still be asked, that there was at the moment no consciousness of that activity? That there was subsequently no consciousness of it, does not make it certain that there was none at the time. The subsequent consciousness of an act is neither more nor less than memory, and is not properly consciousness at all. Consciousness takes cognizance, properly speaking, only of the present, not of the past. The absence of subsequent consciousness is simply absence of memory, and this may be accounted for in other ways than by supposing a total absence of consciousness in the first instance. Whatever mental activity was really exerted by the short-hand reporter in the case referred to, he was, doubtless, conscious of exerting at the time, but it may have been so slight, and the mind so little impressed by it, in the state of physical weariness and prostration, that it was not remembered a moment afterward. We remember not every thing that occurs, but only that to which we attend, and which makes some impression upon us.

      The true Explanation.—In the other cases referred to, the explanation now given is still more evidently the true one. What is called an absence of consciousness is simply an absence of attention at the time, and consequently of memory afterward. The person who is reading aloud, in the case supposed, is mentally occupied with something else than the sentiments of the author, is not attending, in a word, to what he is reading, and hence does not, a moment after, remember what it was that he read. So of the striking of the clock. The sound fell upon the ear, the auditory nerve performed its office, the usual change, whatever it may be, was produced in the brain, but the process of hearing went no further; either no mental activity was awakened by that sound, or, if any, but the slightest, for the mind was otherwise occupied, in a word, did not attend to the summons of the messenger that waited at the portal, and hence there was no subsequent remembrance of the message, or at most a vague impression that something of the kind was heard.

      On the whole, it does not appear from the cases cited, that mental activity is ever, at the moment of its exertion, unaccompanied with consciousness.

      Summary of the Argument.—I hesitate then to assign consciousness a place among the faculties of the mind, as distinct from and coördinate with them, for the following reasons:

      1. It seems to me to be involved in all mental acts. We cannot, as it has been already said, suppose an act of perception, for example, or of sensation, without the consciousness of that perception or sensation. Whatever the mind does, it knows that it does, and the knowing is involved in and given along with the doing. Not to know that I see a book, or hear a sound, is in reality not to see and not to hear it. Not to know that I have a sensation is not to have it. But what is involved in all mental action cannot be set down by itself as a specific mental act. This were much the same as to reckon the whole among the parts.

      2. Consciousness, while involved in, cannot be, either psychologically or chronologically, distinguished from the mental acts which it accompanies. The act and the consciousness of the act are inseparable in time, and they are incapable of being distinguished as distinct states of mind. We cannot break up the sensation or perception into a fact, and the consciousness of that fact. Logically we may distinguish them as different objects of thought and attention, but not psychologically as distinct acts of mind.

      3. Consciousness is not under the control of the will, and is not therefore

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