Chapter 33

65The author makes frequent reference to dreams, but it may be doubted whether he has seized the explanation of that obscure phenomenon. It is an approximately correct statement of one circumstance of dreams, that the Ideas are unmixed with sensations; in a sound slumber, we are inaccessible to the sensations of the five senses. We are not equally fortified against the organic sensations, as those of digestion and other functions. The sensations absent are a very important class, as regards objective or outward reality; and it is probably their absence, as competitors on this ground, that allows the ideas to swell out into an unnatural and illusory prominence, as if they alone were the full reality. This is a more probable account of the illusion, than the circumstance given in the text, “the greater vividness” of the monopolising Ideas, although that too is a fact, and may tend in the same direction.—B.

There are cases in which the effect which is thus produced by a stronger sensation with respect to a weaker, or by sensations with respect to ideas, is also produced by one idea with respect to another. Innumerable cases can be adduced to prove, and,366indeed, it forms one of the great features of what we call the intellectual nature of man, that Ideas, by their accumulation, are capable of acquiring a power, superior to that of sensations, both as pleasure and as pain. The pleasures of Taste, the pleasures of Intellectual exertion, the pleasures of Virtue, acquire when duly cultivated, a power of controlling the solicitations of appetite, and are esteemed a more valuable constituent of happiness than all that sense can immediately bestow.

On the power of ideas, as the stronger feelings, to swallow up sensations, in the same manner as stronger sensations swallow up the weaker, some decisive experiments have been made. The wretches who, nearly a century ago, were made tools of in France, under the title ofconvulsionnaires, to carry on the purposes of Fanaticism, were so placed under the dominion of certain ideas, being persons of weak intellects and strong imagination, and operated upon by men skilled in the ways of perverting feeble understandings, that the ideas became feelings far more potent than the sensations; and when the bodies of the frenzied creatures were subjected to operations calculated to produce the most intense sufferings, they denied that they felt any thing, and by the whole of their demeanour confirmed, as far as it could confirm, the truth of their asseverations. That men in the ardour of battle receive wounds of a serious nature, without being aware of them, till after a considerable lapse of time, is testified upon unsuspicious evidence.

These instances, therefore, it is manifest, form no objection to our conclusion, that the attending to an367interesting sensation, and the having the sensation, are but two names for the same thing.

We have now to consider, what it is, to attend to an indifferent sensation. The force of the word indifferent implies, that an indifferent sensation is not an object of attention on its own account. If it were an object of attention on its own account, it would not be indifferent. If it is regarded, however, as the cause, or the sign, of an interesting sensation, we are already acquainted with the process which takes place. The idea of the interesting sensation is immediately associated with it; the state of consciousness then is not an indifferent sensation merely; it is a sensation and an idea, in union. The idea besides is an interesting idea, that of a pain or pleasure.

The union of an interesting idea, with an indifferent sensation, makes a compound state of consciousness which, as a whole, is interesting. As the having an interesting sensation, and the attending to it, are but two names for the same thing; the having a sensation rendered interesting by association, and the attending to it, cannot be regarded as two different things. In the first case, attention is merely a sensation of a particular kind; in the second, it is merely an association of a particular kind.

We have now to shew what takes place, when the attention, to use the common language, is not directed to Sensations but Ideas.

Ideas are, like sensations, of two kinds. They are either interesting, or not interesting. We need not repeat what has been so often said respecting the origin and composition of those two classes of Ideas, and the cause of their difference.

368An indifferent idea, like an indifferent sensation, is, in itself, not an object of attention. If it were an object of attention, it would not be indifferent; in other words, it would be interesting. In fact, it is in the very import of the word attention, that the object of it is interesting. And if an object is interesting it must be so, either in itself, or by association.

As we found that the having an interesting sensation, and the attending to that sensation, were not two distinguishable states of consciousness, but one and the same state of consciousness, let us now observe, as carefully as we can, whether the having an interesting idea is a state of consciousness, which can be distinguished from attending to it, or whether they are not merely two names for the same thing. When the young man, in love, has the idea of the woman, who is the object of his affections, is not attention merely another word for the peculiar nature of the Idea? In like manner in the mind of the man, who is to be executed to-morrow, the idea of the terrible event before him, is an idea in the very essence of which attention is involved. Attention is but another name for the interesting character of the idea.

If there are any cases to which an objector’s appeal can be made, they will be found, upon examination, to resemble those which we considered in the case of sensation, and which we found to be nothing more than instances of the prevalence of a stronger feeling over a weaker; stronger, either by its nature, or the peculiar circumstances of the moment. We shall not, therefore, stay to propound and explain them.

369It only remains to expound the case in which an indifferent Idea becomes interesting by association. It cannot do so in any other way, than those in which it appeared that an indifferent sensation becomes interesting. It may be considered as the cause, or the sign, of some interesting state of consciousness. When that which is interesting becomes associated with that which is uninteresting, so as to form one compound state of consciousness, the whole is interesting. An idea, in itself indifferent, associated with interesting ideas, becomes part of a new compound which, as a whole, is interesting: and an interesting idea existing, and an interesting idea attended to, are only two names for the same thing.

In the case of Ideas, then, as in the case of sensations, attention to an interesting Idea, is merely having it; attention to an indifferent idea, is merely associating with it some idea that is interesting.

As far then, asATTENTIONgives us power over the trains of our ideas, it is not Will which gives it to us, but the occurrence of interesting sensations, or ideas.

There is not any of the phenomena, which are usually appealed to as the great manifestations of the power of the mind over its trains, which this mode of exposition does not satisfactorily account for. We may take as a sufficient exemplification of them all, the composition of a Discourse upon any important topic. The operation of the mind upon such an occasion seems to consist in a perpetual selection; that is, in the exercise of an uninterrupted power over370the trains of association. There is no doubt that it consists of that peculiar class of associations, to which we give the names, of selection, and power.

In composing a Discourse, a man has some end in view. It is for the attainment of this end, that the Discourse is undertaken. If every thing in the discourse tends to the accomplishment of the end, the Discourse is said to be coherent, appropriate, consistent. If there are many things in it which have no tendency, or but little tendency, to the accomplishment of the end, the discourse is said to be rambling, and incoherent.

This is a case, the exposition of which corresponds very much with that which we have already explained; the endeavour to recollect a forgotten Idea. In that case, the existence of an interesting idea calls up a variety of circumstances, that is, a variety of ideas; and it very often happens, that the idea which is sought for, is called up among them.

In this case, what the seeker has occasion for, is a single Idea; a single idea accomplishes the end he has in view. In the case of the composer of a discourse a great many ideas are wanted. His end cannot be attained by one or a few. But his proceeding is precisely of the same kind in regard to his many Ideas, as that of the man who desires to recollect in regard to his single Idea. He knows there are a number of ideas, connected with the end he has in view, which he can employ for his purpose, provided he can call them up. How they are called up, after the practice we have had in those solutions, requires but little explanation. The end in view is an interesting Idea. It is, at the time, the prevalent Idea.371It is that by which the man is stimulated to action. This idea calls up by association many ideas and trains of ideas. Of these a large proportion pass, and are not made use of. Others are detained and employed. This detaining and employing is all that needs to be explained. It is the same sort of result as the recognition of the forgotten Idea, in the case of recollection.

The forgotten Idea is an Idea associated, as cause, with the end to be obtained by it, as its effect. The same is the case with the ideas which the composer of a discourse selects out of the multitudes, which the continual suggestions of the interesting Idea by which he is actuated, that of his end, bring before him. The greater number are not associated with the idea of his end as cause and effect. Some among them are. These immediately suggest the use to be made of them; and thence, by the regular chains of association, the operations take place.

It is from these explanations, also, easy to see what constitutes the difference between the man who composes a coherent, and the man who composes a rambling discourse. In the man who composes the coherent discourse, the main Idea, that of the end in view, predominates, and controls the association, in every part of the process. It is not only the grand suggesting principle, which sets trains of the ideas connected with itself in motion; but it is the grand selecting principle. As ideas rise in the train, this interesting and predominating idea stands ready to be associated as effect with every idea in the train which can operate as cause; it so associates itself with no other; and therefore no wrong selection is made.372If, however, it does not thus predominate in the mind of the composer of the discourse, as his exclusive end; if it gives way at every turn to some other end; as the idea of applause from some lively jest, from some gaudy description, from some florid thought, the selection is made so far upon other principles, and the object of the discourse is forgotten.66

66The account here given of Attention, though full of instructive matter, I cannot consider to be at all adequate. When it is said that a sensation, by reason of its highly pleasurable or painful character, engrosses the mind, more is meant than merely that it is a highly pleasurable or painful sensation. The expression means, first, that when a sensation is highly pleasurable or painful, it tends, more or less strongly, to exclude from consciousness all other sensations less pleasurable or painful than itself, and to prevent the rising up of any ideas but those which itself recals by its associations. This portion of the facts of the case is noticed by the author, though not sufficiently prominent in his theory. But there is another portion, altogether untouched by him. Through this power which the sensation has, of excluding other sensations and ideas, it tends to prolong its own existence; to make us continue conscious of it, from the absence of other feelings which if they were present would either prevent us from feeling it, or would make us feel it less intensely; which is called diverting our attention from it. This is what we mean when we say that a pleasurable or painful idea tends to fix the attention. We mean, that it is not easy to have, simultaneously with it, any other sensation or idea; except the ideas called up by itself, and which in turn recal it by association, and so keep it present to the mind. Becoming thus a nearly exclusive object of consciousness, it is both felt with greater intensity, and acquires greater power of calling up, by association, other ideas. There is an increase both in the multitude, the intensity, and the distinctness of the ideas it suggests; as is always the case when the suggesting sensation or idea is increased in intensity. In this manner a sensation which gets possession of our consciousness because it is already intense, becomes, by the fact of having taken possession, still more intense, and obtains still greater control over the subsequent train of our thoughts. And these also are precisely the effects which take place when, the sensation not being so pleasurable or painful as to produce them of itself, or in other words to fix the attention, we fix it voluntarily. All this is as true of Ideas as of Sensations. If a thought is highly painful, or pleasurable, it tends to exclude all thoughts which have no connexion with it, and which if aroused would tend to expel it—to make us (as we say) forget the pain or the pleasure. By thus obtaining exclusive possession of the mind, the pleasurable or painful thought is made more intense, more painful or pleasurable; and, as is the nature of pains and pleasures, acquires, in consequence, a greater power of calling up whatever ideas are associated with it. All this is expressed by saying that it fixes the attention. And ideas which are not of themselves so painful or pleasurable as to fix the attention, may have it fixed on them by a voluntary act. In other words, the will has power over the attention.But how is this act of will excited, and in what does it consist? On this point the author’s analysis is conclusive, and admirable. The act, like other voluntary acts, is excited by a motive; by the desire of some end, that is, of something pleasurable; (including in the word pleasurable, as the author does, exemption from pain). What happens is, that, the idea on which we are said to fix our attention not being of itself sufficiently pleasurable to fix it spontaneously, we form an association between it and another pleasurable idea, and the result then is that the attention is fixed. This is the true account of all that we do when we fix our attention voluntarily; there is no other possible means of fixing it. It thus appears, that the fixing of attention by an act of will depends on the same law, as the fixing it by the natural pleasantness or painfulness of the idea. Of itself the idea is not pleasant or painful, or not sufficiently so to fix the attention; but if it were considerably more pleasant or painful than it is, it would do so. It becomes considerably more pleasurable by being associated with the motive—that is, by a fresh association of pleasure with it—and the attention is fixed. This explanation seems complete.It may be said, however, by an objector, that this accounts only for the case in which the voluntary attention flows easy and unimpeded, almost as if it were spontaneous; when the mere perception that the idea is connected with our purpose—with the pleasurable end which suggested the train of thought, at once and without difficulty produces that exclusive occupation of the mind with it, which is called fixing the attention. But it often happens that the mere perception of its connexion with our purpose is not sufficient: the mind still wanders from the thought: and there is then required a supplementary force of will, in aid of association; an effort, which expends energy, and is often both painful and exhausting.Let us examine, then, what takes place in this case. The association of the thought with the pleasurable end in view, is sufficient to influence the attention, but not sufficient to command it. The will, therefore, has to be called in, to heighten the effect. But in this case, as in every case, the will is called into action by a motive. The motive, like all other motives, is a desire. The desire must be either the same desire which was already felt, but made more effectual than before, or another desire superadded to the first. The former case presupposes the latter: for the desire which was not sufficient to fix the attention firmly on that which is the means to its fulfilment, cannot be sufficient to call forth the voluntary effort necessary for fixing it: some other desire must come to its assistance. What, then, is this other desire? The question is not difficult. The present is one of the complex cases, in which we desire a different state of our own desires. By supposition, we do not care enough for the immediate end, that is the idea of it is not sufficiently pleasurable, or the idea of its frustration sufficiently painful, to exert the force of association required. But we are dissatisfied with this infirmity of our desires: we wish that we cared more for the end; we think that it would be better for us if either this particular end, or our ends generally, had greater command over our thoughts and actions than they have. There is thus called up, by our sense of the insufficiency of our attention in the particular case, the idea of another desirable end—greater vigour and certainty in our mental operations. That idea superadds itself to the idea of the immediate end, and this reinforcement of the associating power at last suffices to fix the attention. Or (which is the same thing in effect) the painful idea is called up, of being unable to fix our attention, and being in consequence thwarted generally in our designs; and this pain operates, in the same manner as a pleasure, in fixing our attention upon the thought which, if duly attended to, will relieve us from the oppressive consciousness.It will be asked, whence come the sense of laborious effort, and the subsequent feeling of fatigue, which are experienced when the attention does not fix itself spontaneously, but is fixed with more or less difficulty by a voluntary act? I conceive them to be consequences of the prolongation of the state designated by the author, in the text, as a state of unsatisfied desire. That state, whatever view the psychologist takes of it, is a condition of the brain and nerves, having physiological consequences of great importance, and drawing largely on that stock of what we call nervous energy, any unusual expenditure or deficiency of which produces the feeling of exhaustion. The waste of energy, and the subsequent exhaustion, are greatest when the desire seems continually on the point of obtaining its gratification, but the gratification constantly eludes it. And this is what actually happens in the case supposed. The attention continually fastens on the idea which we desire to attend to, but, from the insufficient strength of the pleasurable or painful association, again deserts it; and the incessant alternation of hope and disappointment produces, as in other cases, the nervous disturbance which we call the sense of effort, and which is physiologically followed by the sensations of nervous exhaustion. It is probable that whatever is not muscular in the feeling which we call a sense of effort, is the physical effect produced by a more than usual expenditure of nervous force: which, reduced to its elements, means a more than usually rapid disintegration and waste of nervous substance.Let me here remark, that the recognition, by the author of the Analysis, of a peculiar state of consciousness called a state of unsatisfied desire, conflicts with his doctrine that desire is nothing but the idea of the desired pleasure as future. In what sense is it possible to speak of an unsatisfied idea? If even we insert the omitted element of Belief, and resolve desire not into the mere idea, but into the expectation of a pleasure; though we might rationally speak of an unsatisfied expectation, it would only mean an expectation not fulfilled, in other words, an expectation of pleasure not followed by the pleasure; an expectation followed by a mere negation. How a pleasant idea, followed, not by a pain, but by nothing at all, is converted into a pain, the pain of unsatisfied desire, remains to be explained: and the author has not pointed out any associations which account for it. If it be said that the expectation is perpetually renewed and perpetually disappointed, this is true, but does not account for more than a continual alternation between a pleasant idea and no idea at all. That an element of pain should enter into unsatisfied desire, is a fact not explained by the author’s theory; and it stands as evidence that there is in a desire something inherently distinct from either an idea or an expectation.—Ed.

But how is this act of will excited, and in what does it consist? On this point the author’s analysis is conclusive, and admirable. The act, like other voluntary acts, is excited by a motive; by the desire of some end, that is, of something pleasurable; (including in the word pleasurable, as the author does, exemption from pain). What happens is, that, the idea on which we are said to fix our attention not being of itself sufficiently pleasurable to fix it spontaneously, we form an association between it and another pleasurable idea, and the result then is that the attention is fixed. This is the true account of all that we do when we fix our attention voluntarily; there is no other possible means of fixing it. It thus appears, that the fixing of attention by an act of will depends on the same law, as the fixing it by the natural pleasantness or painfulness of the idea. Of itself the idea is not pleasant or painful, or not sufficiently so to fix the attention; but if it were considerably more pleasant or painful than it is, it would do so. It becomes considerably more pleasurable by being associated with the motive—that is, by a fresh association of pleasure with it—and the attention is fixed. This explanation seems complete.

It may be said, however, by an objector, that this accounts only for the case in which the voluntary attention flows easy and unimpeded, almost as if it were spontaneous; when the mere perception that the idea is connected with our purpose—with the pleasurable end which suggested the train of thought, at once and without difficulty produces that exclusive occupation of the mind with it, which is called fixing the attention. But it often happens that the mere perception of its connexion with our purpose is not sufficient: the mind still wanders from the thought: and there is then required a supplementary force of will, in aid of association; an effort, which expends energy, and is often both painful and exhausting.

Let us examine, then, what takes place in this case. The association of the thought with the pleasurable end in view, is sufficient to influence the attention, but not sufficient to command it. The will, therefore, has to be called in, to heighten the effect. But in this case, as in every case, the will is called into action by a motive. The motive, like all other motives, is a desire. The desire must be either the same desire which was already felt, but made more effectual than before, or another desire superadded to the first. The former case presupposes the latter: for the desire which was not sufficient to fix the attention firmly on that which is the means to its fulfilment, cannot be sufficient to call forth the voluntary effort necessary for fixing it: some other desire must come to its assistance. What, then, is this other desire? The question is not difficult. The present is one of the complex cases, in which we desire a different state of our own desires. By supposition, we do not care enough for the immediate end, that is the idea of it is not sufficiently pleasurable, or the idea of its frustration sufficiently painful, to exert the force of association required. But we are dissatisfied with this infirmity of our desires: we wish that we cared more for the end; we think that it would be better for us if either this particular end, or our ends generally, had greater command over our thoughts and actions than they have. There is thus called up, by our sense of the insufficiency of our attention in the particular case, the idea of another desirable end—greater vigour and certainty in our mental operations. That idea superadds itself to the idea of the immediate end, and this reinforcement of the associating power at last suffices to fix the attention. Or (which is the same thing in effect) the painful idea is called up, of being unable to fix our attention, and being in consequence thwarted generally in our designs; and this pain operates, in the same manner as a pleasure, in fixing our attention upon the thought which, if duly attended to, will relieve us from the oppressive consciousness.

It will be asked, whence come the sense of laborious effort, and the subsequent feeling of fatigue, which are experienced when the attention does not fix itself spontaneously, but is fixed with more or less difficulty by a voluntary act? I conceive them to be consequences of the prolongation of the state designated by the author, in the text, as a state of unsatisfied desire. That state, whatever view the psychologist takes of it, is a condition of the brain and nerves, having physiological consequences of great importance, and drawing largely on that stock of what we call nervous energy, any unusual expenditure or deficiency of which produces the feeling of exhaustion. The waste of energy, and the subsequent exhaustion, are greatest when the desire seems continually on the point of obtaining its gratification, but the gratification constantly eludes it. And this is what actually happens in the case supposed. The attention continually fastens on the idea which we desire to attend to, but, from the insufficient strength of the pleasurable or painful association, again deserts it; and the incessant alternation of hope and disappointment produces, as in other cases, the nervous disturbance which we call the sense of effort, and which is physiologically followed by the sensations of nervous exhaustion. It is probable that whatever is not muscular in the feeling which we call a sense of effort, is the physical effect produced by a more than usual expenditure of nervous force: which, reduced to its elements, means a more than usually rapid disintegration and waste of nervous substance.

Let me here remark, that the recognition, by the author of the Analysis, of a peculiar state of consciousness called a state of unsatisfied desire, conflicts with his doctrine that desire is nothing but the idea of the desired pleasure as future. In what sense is it possible to speak of an unsatisfied idea? If even we insert the omitted element of Belief, and resolve desire not into the mere idea, but into the expectation of a pleasure; though we might rationally speak of an unsatisfied expectation, it would only mean an expectation not fulfilled, in other words, an expectation of pleasure not followed by the pleasure; an expectation followed by a mere negation. How a pleasant idea, followed, not by a pain, but by nothing at all, is converted into a pain, the pain of unsatisfied desire, remains to be explained: and the author has not pointed out any associations which account for it. If it be said that the expectation is perpetually renewed and perpetually disappointed, this is true, but does not account for more than a continual alternation between a pleasant idea and no idea at all. That an element of pain should enter into unsatisfied desire, is a fact not explained by the author’s theory; and it stands as evidence that there is in a desire something inherently distinct from either an idea or an expectation.—Ed.

373I cannot deem it necessary, after the training which we now have had, to give these expositions in more374minute detail. But it seems to be proper to notice, in a few words, the explanation which they afford of375the phenomena which are usually named the power or want of power over the train of the ideas—in a still376more important instance than the composition of a discourse, that of the conduct of life. Some men are distinguished for a steady direction of their actions, through the course of their lives, to some general end, or ends. One man attaches himself to the cultivation of his mind; another, to the accumulation of wealth; another, to the acquisition of fame. There are other men whose lives appear to be a perpetual fluctuation. They either shift from one great end to another perpetually; or, in their trains, the great ends appear to have no ascendancy over the little. There are men who seem to have a different end of their actions, every day they rise from their beds. The men, in whose minds the great purposes of life seem to have no greater ascendancy than the minor objects, are called frivolous men. It sometimes happens, that a377man who chooses a frivolous end is steady in the pursuit of it. The common case, however, is that no one frivolous end acquires a steady ascendancy; and the man is in a state of perpetual fluctuation.

The solution of these phenomena is obvious. When the idea of any of the great purposes of life exists habitually in controlling strength, it performs the same function in regard to the selection of actions, which the Idea of the end or purpose of the Discourse performs in regard to ideas, in the case of the man who is composing it. Out of the whole number of ideas, which present themselves to him, the idea of his End associates itself with those which can operate as causes of its attainment; and this association is followed by all the other associations which produce the employment of the Ideas. In like manner, when378the great purposes of life are established into predominating ideas, they associate themselves strongly with the ideas of those actions which contribute to their attainment; and those associations are followed by all the other associations, which produce their adoption.

The interpretation which belongs to the phrases, when we hear of men who have, and men who have not, their ideas and actions under command, is, that the one set of men have certain leading ideas, called purposes, so established, as to maintain a control over both their Ideas and their actions; the other set have not ideas so formed as to exercise this ascendancy. That man may be justly said to have the greatest command over his ideas, whose associations with the grand sources of felicity are the most numerous and strong. When the grand sources of felicity are formed into the leading and governing ideas, each in its due and relative strength. Education has then performed its most perfect work; and thus the individual becomes, to the greatest degree, the source of utility to others, and of happiness to himself.

In regard, then, to that state of mind which precedes action, we seem to have ascertained the following indisputable facts: That actions are, in some instances, preceded by mere sensations; that, in other instances, they are preceded by ideas; that, in all cases in which the action is said to be Willed, it is desired, as a means to an end; or, in more accurate language, is associated, as cause, with pleasure as effect: that the idea of the outward appearance of the action, thus excited by association, excites, in the same way, the idea of the internal feelings, which are379the immediate antecedent of the action, and then the action takes place; that whatever power we may possess over the actions of our muscles, must be derived from our power over our associations; and that this power over our associations, when fully analysed, means nothing more than the power of certain interesting Ideas, originating in interesting sensations, and formed into strength by association.6768

67The analysis contained in this chapter affords, as it appears to me, a sufficient theory of the manner in which all that we denominate voluntary, whether it be a bodily action or a modification of our mental state, comes to be produced by a motive, i.e. by the association of an idea of pleasure or of exemption from pain with the act or the mental modification. But there is still an unexplained residuum which has not yet been brought to account. There are some bodily movements the consequence of which is not pleasure, but pain. Painful states of consciousness, no less than pleasurable ones, tend to form strong associations with their causes or concomitants. The idea, therefore, of a pain, will, no less than that of a pleasure, become associated with the muscular action that would produce it, and with the muscular sensations that accompany the action; and, as a matter of fact, we know that it does so. Why, then, is the result not merely different, but contrary? Why is it that the muscular action excited by association with a pleasure, is action towards the pleasure, while that excited by association with a pain is away from the pain? As far as depends on the law of association, it might seem that the action, in both cases, would be towards the fact with which the action is associated. There are some remarkable phenomena in which this really happens. There are cases in which a vivid imagination of a painful fact, seems really to produce the action which realizes the fact. Persons looking over a precipice are said to be sometimes seized with a strong impulse to throw380themselves down. Persons who have extreme horror of a crime, if circumstances make the idea of committing it vividly present to their mind, have been known, from the mere intensity of their horror, to commit the crime without any assignable motive; and have been unable to give any account of why they committed it, except that the thought struck them, that the devil tempted them, and the like. This is the case of what is sometimes called a fixed idea; which has a sort of fascinating influence, and makes people seek what they fear or detest, instead of shunning it. Why is not this extremely exceptional case the common one? Why does the association of pain with an act, usually excite not to that act, but to the acts which tend to prevent the realization of the dreaded evil?It seems, that as the author has had to admit as an ultimate fact, the distinction between those of our sensations which we call pleasures and those which we call pains, considered as states of our passive sensibility, so also he would be compelled to admit, as a fact unreached by his explanations, a difference between the two in their relation to our active faculty; an attraction in the one case, and a repulsion in the other. That is, he must admit that the association of a pleasurable or painful idea (at all events when accompanied by a feeling of expectation) with a muscular act, has a specific tendency to excite the act when the idea is that of a pleasure, but, when it is the idea of a pain, has a specific tendency to prevent that act, and to excite the acts that are associated with the negation of the pain. This is precisely what we mean when we say that pleasure is desired, that pain is an object of aversion, and the absence of pain an object of desire. These facts are of course admitted by the author: and he admits them even as ultimate: but, with his characteristic dislike to multiply the number of ultimate facts, he merges them in the admitted ultimate fact of the difference between pleasure and pain. It is chiefly in cases of this sort—in leading him to identify two ultimate facts with one another, that his love of simplification, in itself a feeling highly worthy of a philosopher, seems to381mislead him. Even if we consent to admit that the desire of a pleasure is one and the same thing with the idea of a pleasure, and aversion to a pain is the same thing with the idea of a pain—it remains true that the difference which we passively feel, between the consciousness of a pleasure; and that of a pain, is one fact, and our being stirred to seek the one and avoid the other is another fact; and it is just this second fact that distinguishes a mere idea of something as future, from a desire or aversion. It is this conscious or unconscious reference to action, which distinguishes the desire of a pleasure from the idea of it. Desire, in short, is the initiatory stage of volition. The author might indeed say, that this seeking of the sensation is involved in the very fact of conceiving it as pleasant; but this, when looked into, only means that the two things are inseparable; not that they are, or that they can ever be thought of, as identical; as one and the same thing.It appears, then, that there is a law of voluntary action, the most important one of all, which the author’s explanations do not attempt to reach. Yet there is no necessity for accepting that law as ultimate. A theory resolving it into laws still more fundamental, has been propounded by Mr. Bain in his writings, and a masterly statement of it will be found in the succeedingnote. If, as I expect, this theory makes good its footing, Mr. Bain will be the first psychologist who has succeeded in effecting a complete and correct analysis of the Will.In the same note will be found an analysis of the case of anidée fixe—the most striking case of which, is that of a terrific idea, exceptionally drawing the active power into the direction which leads towards the dreaded catastrophe, instead of, as usual, into the opposite direction. This peculiar case obliges us to acknowledge the coexistence of two different modes in which action may be excited. There is the normal agency of the ideas of a pleasure and a pain, the one determining an action towards the pleasure, the other an action away from the pain; and there is the general power of an extremely strong association of any kind, to make the action follow the idea.382The reason why the determination of action towards a pain by the idea of the pain is only exceptional, is, that in order to produce it, the general power of a strong association to excite action towards the fact which it recals, has to overcome the specific tendency of a painful association to repel action from that fact. But the intensity of the painful idea may be so great, and the association of the act with it so strong, as to overpower this repulsive force by a greater attractive force: and it is then that we find the painful idea operating on action in a mode contrary to the specific property which is characteristic of it, and which it usually obeys.It has been suggested, that the intensity with which the mind sometimes fixes upon a frightful idea, may operate by paralysing for the time being the usual voluntary efforts to avoid pain, and so allowing the natural impulse to act on a predominant idea to come into play.—Ed.

It seems, that as the author has had to admit as an ultimate fact, the distinction between those of our sensations which we call pleasures and those which we call pains, considered as states of our passive sensibility, so also he would be compelled to admit, as a fact unreached by his explanations, a difference between the two in their relation to our active faculty; an attraction in the one case, and a repulsion in the other. That is, he must admit that the association of a pleasurable or painful idea (at all events when accompanied by a feeling of expectation) with a muscular act, has a specific tendency to excite the act when the idea is that of a pleasure, but, when it is the idea of a pain, has a specific tendency to prevent that act, and to excite the acts that are associated with the negation of the pain. This is precisely what we mean when we say that pleasure is desired, that pain is an object of aversion, and the absence of pain an object of desire. These facts are of course admitted by the author: and he admits them even as ultimate: but, with his characteristic dislike to multiply the number of ultimate facts, he merges them in the admitted ultimate fact of the difference between pleasure and pain. It is chiefly in cases of this sort—in leading him to identify two ultimate facts with one another, that his love of simplification, in itself a feeling highly worthy of a philosopher, seems to381mislead him. Even if we consent to admit that the desire of a pleasure is one and the same thing with the idea of a pleasure, and aversion to a pain is the same thing with the idea of a pain—it remains true that the difference which we passively feel, between the consciousness of a pleasure; and that of a pain, is one fact, and our being stirred to seek the one and avoid the other is another fact; and it is just this second fact that distinguishes a mere idea of something as future, from a desire or aversion. It is this conscious or unconscious reference to action, which distinguishes the desire of a pleasure from the idea of it. Desire, in short, is the initiatory stage of volition. The author might indeed say, that this seeking of the sensation is involved in the very fact of conceiving it as pleasant; but this, when looked into, only means that the two things are inseparable; not that they are, or that they can ever be thought of, as identical; as one and the same thing.

It appears, then, that there is a law of voluntary action, the most important one of all, which the author’s explanations do not attempt to reach. Yet there is no necessity for accepting that law as ultimate. A theory resolving it into laws still more fundamental, has been propounded by Mr. Bain in his writings, and a masterly statement of it will be found in the succeedingnote. If, as I expect, this theory makes good its footing, Mr. Bain will be the first psychologist who has succeeded in effecting a complete and correct analysis of the Will.

In the same note will be found an analysis of the case of anidée fixe—the most striking case of which, is that of a terrific idea, exceptionally drawing the active power into the direction which leads towards the dreaded catastrophe, instead of, as usual, into the opposite direction. This peculiar case obliges us to acknowledge the coexistence of two different modes in which action may be excited. There is the normal agency of the ideas of a pleasure and a pain, the one determining an action towards the pleasure, the other an action away from the pain; and there is the general power of an extremely strong association of any kind, to make the action follow the idea.382The reason why the determination of action towards a pain by the idea of the pain is only exceptional, is, that in order to produce it, the general power of a strong association to excite action towards the fact which it recals, has to overcome the specific tendency of a painful association to repel action from that fact. But the intensity of the painful idea may be so great, and the association of the act with it so strong, as to overpower this repulsive force by a greater attractive force: and it is then that we find the painful idea operating on action in a mode contrary to the specific property which is characteristic of it, and which it usually obeys.

It has been suggested, that the intensity with which the mind sometimes fixes upon a frightful idea, may operate by paralysing for the time being the usual voluntary efforts to avoid pain, and so allowing the natural impulse to act on a predominant idea to come into play.—Ed.

68This chapter is a remarkably searching discussion of the Will, not as a metaphysical puzzle, but as a leading function of the mind. It is greatly superior to any previous handling of the subject.Of the facts brought forward in illustration of voluntary movement, some are more properly referable to other parts of the mental system.First. Such actions as sneezing, coughing, contraction of the pupil of the eye, hiccup, parturition, lock-jaw, respiration, the movements of the heart, the peristaltic movements of the intestines,—all which are stated to be movements prompted by sensation,—are nearly, if not altogether, involuntary. They are more usually termed Reflex Actions. In a certain number, sensation is present, but is not essential; as in coughing, sneezing, parturition. In others, for example, the movements of the heart and the intestines, there is no sensation; the assumption made in the text, that the blood cannot flow into the heart without being accompanied with sensation, is incorrect.These actions are interesting to study in connexion with the will, but rather in the way of contrast than of similarity.383There is probably a deep community in the foundations of the two classes of movements; but, in their more obvious aspect, and for all psychological purposes, they are opposed. It is common to apply to the Reflex class the name “involuntary.”Secondly. The movements in yawning, laughter, sobbing; the altered action of the heart, the bowels, the kidneys, the skin, in Fear,—are allied with sensations or feelings; but they are not correctly classed with the Will; in fact, some of them are performed through involuntary muscles. A different view must be taken of these effects. They are the inseparable physical accompaniments of feeling; the physical side or counterpart of the mental fact; in their absence the feeling itself would not exist. Fear would not be fear, if the emotional state were not attended with a series of physical effects, partly of movement, partly of altered secretions. These physical accompaniments supply the appearances known to all men as the expression of feeling; which although to a great degree made up of movements, is totally distinct from the voluntary promptings of the feelings. The smile that accompanies a pleasure tasted is one thing: the activity inspired to prolong the enjoyment is another thing. The two kinds of movement are frequently mingled; thus, in acute pains, the cries and contortions of feature are the embodiment of the feeling; the gestures and movements of the body, may be partly expression, but are also attempts to obtain relief. Expression in its purity is well seen in a shock of surprise; a state which being often entirely neutral as regards pleasure or pain, has no voluntary prompting whatsoever. Every feeling has a certain definite physical embodiment with much or with little outward display; this belongs to the feeling as such; it is a phenomenon of feeling or emotion, and not of volition.Thirdly. The operation of Ideas, in such instances as involuntary imitation, contagious convulsions, the influence of the imagination,—is a genuine source of actions, but is yet to be distinguished from the Will. When the idea of a certain medicine produces the very same effect as the medicine actually applied, when a person yawning makes the beholder yawn,384or when, standing on the brink of a precipice, one is tempted to jump down,—there is no intervention of the will properly so called; on the contrary, there may be a conflict between the influence of the idea and the true volitional promptings. The characteristic feature of the voluntary activity is to follow pleasure and to retreat from pain; some of the tendencies growing out of an idea are in the direction of pain.This, in many respects remarkable, phenomenon is better assigned to the Intellectual part of our nature, although it has consequences on our actions. When a sensation passes into an idea, it still retains, in a diminished form, many of its characteristic properties. The sensation of a savoury morsel in the mouth is accompanied with a gush of saliva; the corresponding idea in any way aroused, as when just commencing to eat, induces the very same flow, expressed by the phrase “the mouth watering.” The mode of interpreting the phenomenon is the announcement of a pregnant law of the mind (two-sided like the mind itself), that the idea is embodied in the same tracks as the sensation, although commonly in a weaker form. There is a standing mental determination, whereby all ideas tend to work themselves out into full actuality; a power that the will and other influences are constantly employed in checking. The sight of a person yawning gives the idea of the act; and the idea, unless counteracted, brings forth the reality. The sight of a precipice gives very forcibly the idea of something falling headlong down, and that idea possesses the mind of the spectator so strongly that but for a restraining volition, he would act it out in his own person.By far the most interesting application of the law is to explain the workings of Sympathy, in the form of purely beneficent disinterested impulses. Allusion has already been made to the law, in this peculiar aspect, in a formernote(Chap. XXIII. p. 302).These three great classes of phenomena being withdrawn from the region of the Will, the remaining facts mentioned in the text can be viewed in a clearer light.1. It is justly stated that the Will is an extensive and385laboriousacquisition, pursued, especially at the commencement, in the midst of considerable difficulties.2. In the mature will, the immediate antecedent of a voluntary act is anideaof the thing to be done. This is true, but not the precise, nor the whole truth.3. The author’s mode of viewing the influence of Attention points to the really fundamental and typical fact of the Will. He says, Attention is merely another name for the engrossing effect of a pleasurable or a painful sensation. “Having a pleasurable or painful sensation, and attending to it, seem not to be two things, but one and the same thing.” That is to say, there is a power in pleasure as such, and in pain as such, to stimulate action or movement with reference to the pleasure or the pain. This is the nearest approach that is made in the text to a statement of the law of voluntary action.The law has been differently expressed. Locke said, the will moves to the greatest uneasiness, which is no doubt the fact. Still, by a wider induction, we obtain a more comprehensive, as well as more accurate, generalization.If we observe one of the most familiar instances of voluntary action—the process of eating, for example, we find that what happens is as follows:—The contact of the food with the tongue and palate stimulates, by an immediate impulse, all the movements of mastication and swallowing (in its first stage), and the further movements for placing more food in the mouth. We find that the intensity of the stimulation is in proportion to the degree of the pleasurable excitement, being highest at the commencement, and sinking gradually in the approach to satiety. There is no fact that can be produced more exactly typifying the primary action of the will. A tasted pleasure, everywhere, at all times, from the beginning to the close of life, is an immediate inducement to activity. Coming out of a chilling atmosphere into a place of genial warmth, our energy is at once aroused to follow the cue. The striking up of a band attracts and detains all listeners susceptible to the charm. There is, in such instances, no intermediate process of reflection, deliberation, or resolution; a386simple, an indivisible, link unites a burst of pleasure and a burst of activity following up the pleasure.Reverting to the first example, the act of eating, we may detect another phase of the voluntary sequences. Suppose a morsel, admitted in good faith, to disclose a very bad taste, say the taste of soot; what is the immediate, unreflecting, response? Thefirsteffect is a collapse and suspension of all the masticating movements. From the earliest infancy, this consequence would be shown. There commonly succeeds, and often with great rapidity, asecondeffect, which we shall consider under another head—the energetic discharge of the morsel from the mouth; but long before children are capable of the second act, they fall into the first—the suspension of the activity at the time.On extending our survey to the analogous cases, we are enabled to announce this also, as a typical situation of the Will, namely:—That, as pleasure furthers activity in its own direction, pain arrests activity in its own direction. Turning a street corner, we encounter suddenly a bitter wintry blast; we feel at once an arrest upon our movements. An ill odour, a painful contact, a grating noise, a disagreeable spectacle, have all the same immediate efficacy. The proper, the direct consequent of an incursion of pain, is suspended activity. Not only is this second law conformable to observation, it is the implication, the obverse, of the previous law connecting pleasure with increased activity.The apparent exceptions to the second law need to be adverted to. The most obvious is the exciting effect of a smarting sensation, as the stroke of a whip. A light, smarting, pungent, stimulus, amounting to pain, quickens the general activity of the system for the time; while a more severe blow operates according to the general principle, and suspends activity. To quicken an animal’s pace, the light smart is often the best application; to arrest an access of action, there must be greater severity. The excitement of an acute smart is due not to the pain of it, but to the mere shock imparted to the nerves; if a similar intensity of nervous shock were also a387cause of pleasure, the stimulating effect would be far greater, and more prolonged; for the element of pain, in the case of the painful smart, destroys the activity in the second stage, when the nervous excitement has subsided. Any one walking at a certain pace, and suddenly jolted, is momentarily awakened to a higher pitch of nervous excitement; but goes on, after the shock, at a slackened pace. An acute smart has thus a twofold efficacy; it is both a temporary stimulant of activity, and a cause of reduced energy on the whole, according to the second law of the Will.Another apparent exception is the vehemence manifested in escaping from pain; a mode of activity almost indistinguishably mixed up with the writhings and contortions of a creature under suffering, in other words, with the physical embodiments of the state of pain. The sudden excitement just adverted to also enters into the complex effect; being brought out at the first moment of the infliction, and at every new twinge in fitful modes of suffering. This energetic activity for escape is a distinct aspect of voluntary power. It is Locke’s typical form of the Will, but is here regarded as secondary or circuitous, and not as the primitive situation.Thirdly. We must now then consider expressly the influence of pain in stimulating action for alleviation or escape, as when we draw back from anything that pains or offends us. To call the pain the direct stimulant in this situation, would be to connect pain and pleasure equally with the exaltation of our energies; which would be a contradiction, or else would tend to show that there is nocasualconnexion between pleasure or pain and our active exertions. The real motive force of pain, however, is not the state of suffering, but therelief; and relief from pain is another form of pleasure. That pleasure stimulates, that pain depresses, that alleviation of pain stimulates, are all one and the same phenomenon—statements of the same law.There are two stages in the operation of pain. The first is, when under a present pain, something happens to give us relief; in which case, we experience on the instant, a burst of388physical elation, exactly as from a sudden access of pleasure. In exposure to a cold wind, we have the depression accompanying a massive pain; in coming gradually under shelter, we feel buoyed and elated, our movements are quickened, and we follow the lead with growing energy. Every one has experienced the stimulus of success, and the damping effect of failure; although, practically viewed, the success should dispense with the newborn energy, and the failure should bring about an increase of exertion. It takes a mind of unusual strength, to resist these natural tendencies.In the second stage, pain is found acting as a stimulant, without present alleviation, and therefore without the benefit of the law of pleasure. How is this? The answer is, that the idea of the relief is the operative circumstance. The pedestrian exposed to a freezing wind is urged to an accelerated pace, by the secondary or derived impulse, growing out of the idea or anticipation of relief through a certain amount of exertion. That this idea is the real source of the new strength, is attested by the known facts and circumstances of the situation. A sufferer, having no idea, prospect, or hope of alleviation, flags and succumbs, in accordance with the proper tendency of pain; the stimulation of the active powers does not follow the degree of the misery, but the openings of a better lot. What was noted above as the strength of mind that induces a successful man to refrain from pushing on still farther, and an unsuccessful man to struggle the more, means the firm possession of anidea, to oppose the power of the present,—under success, an idea of moderation, and, under misery, an idea of relief to supply the active spur that the situation restrains. We call a man strong-minded, if he resists the pressure of the actual in favour of an ideal. This is the highest manifestation of energy of will. It owes its merit, and even its meaning, to the fact that a present pleasure inflames and a present pain quenches the activities; and that, to counterwork these tendencies, there must be a strong conception of ideal pain in the one case, and of ideal pleasure in the other; which is the same law of the mind in another form. We389cannot remain quiescent under a vivid and growing pleasure, unless by the prospect of pain in the distance; nor do we rouse up under pain without some idea of relief, that is, pleasure in the distance.No general law of the mind is more thoroughly confirmed by the experience of human actions than the principle now stated in its three several aspects. There is, as has been seen, something to be accounted for, in the lively stimulus under acute smarts; there is, also, an obverse of this fact, in certain forms of pleasure (as gentle warmth) which are lulling and soporific; but these are the consequence of another law of the mind, in some degree complicating the phenomena, without disproving the main law of the Will.Possibly, this principle, wide as it is, may be subsumed under a still wider:—namely, a principle connecting pleasure with nutrition, or the supply of vital power and stimulus, and, by implication, pain with the abatement or loss of vital energy; from which the law of the will would be a consequence. The attempt to resolve it so is highly interesting; but, in the psychological explanation of the will, we may be satisfied, for the present, to start from the less imposing, but well-grounded generality now given. At the same time, it will be found that, having once caught a glimpse of the higher law, we cannot avoid occasionally falling into the language suggested by it; so suitable does it often appear to the expression of the facts.With regard to one great aspect of voluntary action,—our being movedtopleasure andfrompain, the law is the full and precise summary. The element of the will remaining unexplained, is theselectionof the proper movements in each case; as when we start up and walk in the direction of a pleasing sound. The rendering an account of this selective adaptation is the theory of the growth or development of the will.In the delicate and difficult enquiry as to the manner of first attaining the voluntary command of the movements, the law of the will, just expounded, must still be referred to. But taken by itself, that law does not explain the beginnings of the will. It accounts for the keeping up of a movement390bringing pleasure, and the dropping of a movement bringing pain, but it does not account for the ability to single out, and set a-going, movements calculated to enhance pleasure and subdue pain, actual or distant. There is not, within its compass, any specifying or selective faculty.The complete explanation of the Will demands a reference to two other laws of the mind. The first is the Spontaneous beginning of Movements; the second, the Retentive or Associative process constituting the basis of all our acquisitions.By the Spontaneity of Movement is meant the tendency of human beings, and of animals generally, to begin acting without the express stimulus of sensation from without, and by virtue of the fund of power residing in the active organs themselves. By means of nourishment, the animal is disposed to pass into movement, from the mere abundance of the motor energy in the nerve centres and in the muscles. A large proportion of the activity of the more active creatures,—as the human species (especially the young), quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and insects,—is due to the presence of an active machinery provided with superabundance of motive power. Apart from the stimulus of sensation, from the wants and the pleasures of the animal, there is a necessity for the active organs to put forth their activity. The energy is greatly heightened,—often doubled or tripled, by the stimulation of the senses, and, after a certain education, by the influence of ideas; but it is far from remaining in abeyance till operated upon by stimulants from without or from within.Besides summing up a large amount of the activity familiar to us in the life of human beings, and of animals, this Spontaneity has a special importance as a starting-point for the will. We have seen that the difficulty unprovided for by the law of pleasure and pain, is the singling out, or commencing, of the suitable movements. The utmost that the law can ensure is to retain or continue them, when once commenced. Now, the tendency to spontaneous action applies to all the voluntary members—locomotive organs, trunk, head, jaw,391tongue, mouth, eyes, voice, &c. There is, at the outset, no rule or order for the spontaneous outburst, except the physical condition of each organ, including the nervous connexions. The animal, in its exuberant phase, after nourishment and rest, may become active at any point; it may run, gesticulate, chew, gaze, cry out; or having expended itself in any one direction, it may fall into other regions of activity where the force is still abundant.One or two instances must here suffice to indicate the process of attaining the selective faculty of the will, through Spontaneity, joined with the law of pleasure and pain. In the maturity of the will, we have the power of following with the eyes a moving object, partly by revolving the eye-balls, and partly by turning the head. An infant has no such power. The manner of arriving at it is open to observation, and is typical of the less obvious cases. Suppose the child to have its gaze fixed upon a light, or some other appearance of a stimulating kind. The physical effect of the stimulus, always conjoined with the mental effect, is an increase of energy (by the primary law of the will), which would manifest itself in quickening and retaining the child’s gaze; there is displayed a more energetic strain of the attention than had existed when the eyes found nothing to impart a special charm. Suppose next that the light is withdrawn, by being moved to one side. The loss of the stimulus instantly works as a depression; the heightened strain of attention collapses. Still, the child is not reduced to absolute quiescence; it has an internal fund of energy, independent of casual stimulations; the flowing out of this energy consists in a series of movements for the most part at random. It may happen, that one of these chance movements is a rotation of the eyes, or of the head, in the exact direction of the pleasing object, and therefore tending to recover the illumination. Instantly, there is a burst of heightened energy, according to the law of pleasure; and the movement accidentally commenced is persistently stimulated so long as the pleasure of the spectacle grows or continues. The concurrence is fortuitous; the prolongation of it is not fortuitous,392but follows the law of the will—the abiding by whatever movement is giving pleasure.The completing step is due to the Retentive or plastic power of the mind. An association is begun between the optical effect of a light retreating from the full gaze to the right or to the left, and the muscular movements that enable the eye to follow it. After a certain number of similar chance coincidences, this bond of association is rendered firm enough to ensure the movement at once when the sensation is present; and one of the many thousand links constituting the mature will is thereby forged. The very same course of proceeding is followed in a host of other instances.The beginnings of Imitation are also highly illustrative of the process. There is no trace of imitative power during the first months of infancy. The rise and progress of the power may be visibly discerned by any observer; and perhaps the best example for the purpose is Speech. In the beginnings of this extensive acquirement, the basis is most obviously the infant’s spontaneous articulations; these must be waited for by the instructor, who can only foster and maintain them when they come. The law of the will provides for the fostering part of the process. The child is, in all probability, gratified by the sound of its voice, when it gives forth any new sound, and so is stimulated to keep up the vocal exertion. Next in efficacy is the catching up and repeating of the sound by others, which is an addition to the pleasing stimulus. Under the two-fold agency, there is opportunity for an association to grow up between the vocal impulse and the sensation of the sound heard; which association is ultimately the medium of bringing on the articulation whenever it is desired.The other cases of Imitation describe the same routine. The movements are initiated by random spontaneity; and when they arise, they are accompanied by a sensible impression on the eye, or on the ear; the concurrences, being regular and uniform, are at length contiguously associated; the muscular exertion of lifting the hand is connected with the visible picture of a lifted hand. At a certain stage, the association393may be brought to operate in the inverted order,—the sensations first, the movement next,—which is the whole fact of Imitation.A numerous class of voluntary links consists in obeying the word of command, or in following verbal directions. This, as will be admitted, can be nothing but association. It is an association that would not be attainable without the spontaneous commencement. A child, or an animal, must perform a certain action,proprio motu, in the first instance; the name is then uttered in company with it; this being done repeatedly, a connexion is made whereby the word can induce or single out the movement.In the training of animals, a hastening process is resorted to, which well exemplifies the difficulties in the early education of the will. In breaking a horse, the whip and the curb form the earliest instrumentality. The animal must still commence moving of its own accord. The business is to guide the spontaneity into definite channels, in consistency with the law of the will, and to connect all the various desired movements with language and signs, by whose means they can always be brought into play. When the colt under discipline is moving in the desired pace, it is allowed to go on without molestation or hindrance; when it deviates in any way, it is made to feel the pain of the whip or other check; this, by the law of pain, abates the existing movements; and if the abatement is the thing sought, the end is gained. The application may, however, be such as to quicken the movements by the smarting stimulus; an effect both exceptional and uncertain, and of use as causing a diversion of pace, out of which may come the movement desired. The surest agency of control, however, in the early and crude stage of the will, is the abatement of an excessive or a wrong movement by a decidedly painful check, such as the operation of the curb, which by pressing severely on a sensitive surface, is a certain means of depression; whereas, the light, irritating smart of the whip operates by a spasmodic uncertain stimulation. It is by the tendency of pain to put an arrest upon the wrong movement.394and of the relief from pain to indicate the right movement, that the trainer secures the obedience of the animal; he, at the same time, familiarizing its ear with the sounds that are to signify the various paces and movements. The spontaneous commencement is essential under all circumstances; according as this spontaneity is, from the first, ready, vigorous, and various, is the facility in attaining and cementing the initial links of voluntary command.It will now be apparent that the immediate antecedent of a voluntary act is not solely the idea of the action to be performed. The successive upbuilding of the voluntary associations developes a series of phases, under which the direct antecedent is transformed into various shapes. The sensation of hunger may be the sole antecedent in prompting an animal to the search for food; the painful sensation is coupled at a very early stage with the sight and the idea of food. When a child first attains the power of lifting a sweet morsel to its mouth, the antecedent of the voluntary act is the sight of the morsel coupled with the remembrance of the sweetness. A farther advance takes place by associating the ultimate object with intermediate actions, as when the child learns to entreat what it wants from other persons. The stage that first brings in an idea of the moving members themselves is Imitation; in imitating by sight, the antecedent is the view of the parts moved. Through this medium, we pass to what is popularly considered the type of voluntary control, the moving from a wish to move. I will to raise the arm, and the act follows; the antecedent is the idea of the raised arm (together with some feeling to be gratified by the act). In the highest developments of voluntary acquisition, there is another case, also of frequent occurrence; namely, where the intellectual antecedent is the idea of the work to be done; as, for example, in the act of washing the hands, where we do not think of the movements to be gone through, but of a certain appearance to be produced.In Chapter X., on Memory, it isremarked:—‘When we395are said to will, there must be in the mind what is willed.’ But the idea of what is immediately willed, with reference to the same ultimate end, may assume all the variations above described. To gain a pleasure or free ourselves from a pain, we may employ different instrumentalities; and the explanation of the will should comprehend them all.—B.

68This chapter is a remarkably searching discussion of the Will, not as a metaphysical puzzle, but as a leading function of the mind. It is greatly superior to any previous handling of the subject.

Of the facts brought forward in illustration of voluntary movement, some are more properly referable to other parts of the mental system.

First. Such actions as sneezing, coughing, contraction of the pupil of the eye, hiccup, parturition, lock-jaw, respiration, the movements of the heart, the peristaltic movements of the intestines,—all which are stated to be movements prompted by sensation,—are nearly, if not altogether, involuntary. They are more usually termed Reflex Actions. In a certain number, sensation is present, but is not essential; as in coughing, sneezing, parturition. In others, for example, the movements of the heart and the intestines, there is no sensation; the assumption made in the text, that the blood cannot flow into the heart without being accompanied with sensation, is incorrect.

These actions are interesting to study in connexion with the will, but rather in the way of contrast than of similarity.383There is probably a deep community in the foundations of the two classes of movements; but, in their more obvious aspect, and for all psychological purposes, they are opposed. It is common to apply to the Reflex class the name “involuntary.”

Secondly. The movements in yawning, laughter, sobbing; the altered action of the heart, the bowels, the kidneys, the skin, in Fear,—are allied with sensations or feelings; but they are not correctly classed with the Will; in fact, some of them are performed through involuntary muscles. A different view must be taken of these effects. They are the inseparable physical accompaniments of feeling; the physical side or counterpart of the mental fact; in their absence the feeling itself would not exist. Fear would not be fear, if the emotional state were not attended with a series of physical effects, partly of movement, partly of altered secretions. These physical accompaniments supply the appearances known to all men as the expression of feeling; which although to a great degree made up of movements, is totally distinct from the voluntary promptings of the feelings. The smile that accompanies a pleasure tasted is one thing: the activity inspired to prolong the enjoyment is another thing. The two kinds of movement are frequently mingled; thus, in acute pains, the cries and contortions of feature are the embodiment of the feeling; the gestures and movements of the body, may be partly expression, but are also attempts to obtain relief. Expression in its purity is well seen in a shock of surprise; a state which being often entirely neutral as regards pleasure or pain, has no voluntary prompting whatsoever. Every feeling has a certain definite physical embodiment with much or with little outward display; this belongs to the feeling as such; it is a phenomenon of feeling or emotion, and not of volition.

Thirdly. The operation of Ideas, in such instances as involuntary imitation, contagious convulsions, the influence of the imagination,—is a genuine source of actions, but is yet to be distinguished from the Will. When the idea of a certain medicine produces the very same effect as the medicine actually applied, when a person yawning makes the beholder yawn,384or when, standing on the brink of a precipice, one is tempted to jump down,—there is no intervention of the will properly so called; on the contrary, there may be a conflict between the influence of the idea and the true volitional promptings. The characteristic feature of the voluntary activity is to follow pleasure and to retreat from pain; some of the tendencies growing out of an idea are in the direction of pain.

This, in many respects remarkable, phenomenon is better assigned to the Intellectual part of our nature, although it has consequences on our actions. When a sensation passes into an idea, it still retains, in a diminished form, many of its characteristic properties. The sensation of a savoury morsel in the mouth is accompanied with a gush of saliva; the corresponding idea in any way aroused, as when just commencing to eat, induces the very same flow, expressed by the phrase “the mouth watering.” The mode of interpreting the phenomenon is the announcement of a pregnant law of the mind (two-sided like the mind itself), that the idea is embodied in the same tracks as the sensation, although commonly in a weaker form. There is a standing mental determination, whereby all ideas tend to work themselves out into full actuality; a power that the will and other influences are constantly employed in checking. The sight of a person yawning gives the idea of the act; and the idea, unless counteracted, brings forth the reality. The sight of a precipice gives very forcibly the idea of something falling headlong down, and that idea possesses the mind of the spectator so strongly that but for a restraining volition, he would act it out in his own person.

By far the most interesting application of the law is to explain the workings of Sympathy, in the form of purely beneficent disinterested impulses. Allusion has already been made to the law, in this peculiar aspect, in a formernote(Chap. XXIII. p. 302).

These three great classes of phenomena being withdrawn from the region of the Will, the remaining facts mentioned in the text can be viewed in a clearer light.

1. It is justly stated that the Will is an extensive and385laboriousacquisition, pursued, especially at the commencement, in the midst of considerable difficulties.

2. In the mature will, the immediate antecedent of a voluntary act is anideaof the thing to be done. This is true, but not the precise, nor the whole truth.

3. The author’s mode of viewing the influence of Attention points to the really fundamental and typical fact of the Will. He says, Attention is merely another name for the engrossing effect of a pleasurable or a painful sensation. “Having a pleasurable or painful sensation, and attending to it, seem not to be two things, but one and the same thing.” That is to say, there is a power in pleasure as such, and in pain as such, to stimulate action or movement with reference to the pleasure or the pain. This is the nearest approach that is made in the text to a statement of the law of voluntary action.

The law has been differently expressed. Locke said, the will moves to the greatest uneasiness, which is no doubt the fact. Still, by a wider induction, we obtain a more comprehensive, as well as more accurate, generalization.

If we observe one of the most familiar instances of voluntary action—the process of eating, for example, we find that what happens is as follows:—The contact of the food with the tongue and palate stimulates, by an immediate impulse, all the movements of mastication and swallowing (in its first stage), and the further movements for placing more food in the mouth. We find that the intensity of the stimulation is in proportion to the degree of the pleasurable excitement, being highest at the commencement, and sinking gradually in the approach to satiety. There is no fact that can be produced more exactly typifying the primary action of the will. A tasted pleasure, everywhere, at all times, from the beginning to the close of life, is an immediate inducement to activity. Coming out of a chilling atmosphere into a place of genial warmth, our energy is at once aroused to follow the cue. The striking up of a band attracts and detains all listeners susceptible to the charm. There is, in such instances, no intermediate process of reflection, deliberation, or resolution; a386simple, an indivisible, link unites a burst of pleasure and a burst of activity following up the pleasure.

Reverting to the first example, the act of eating, we may detect another phase of the voluntary sequences. Suppose a morsel, admitted in good faith, to disclose a very bad taste, say the taste of soot; what is the immediate, unreflecting, response? Thefirsteffect is a collapse and suspension of all the masticating movements. From the earliest infancy, this consequence would be shown. There commonly succeeds, and often with great rapidity, asecondeffect, which we shall consider under another head—the energetic discharge of the morsel from the mouth; but long before children are capable of the second act, they fall into the first—the suspension of the activity at the time.

On extending our survey to the analogous cases, we are enabled to announce this also, as a typical situation of the Will, namely:—That, as pleasure furthers activity in its own direction, pain arrests activity in its own direction. Turning a street corner, we encounter suddenly a bitter wintry blast; we feel at once an arrest upon our movements. An ill odour, a painful contact, a grating noise, a disagreeable spectacle, have all the same immediate efficacy. The proper, the direct consequent of an incursion of pain, is suspended activity. Not only is this second law conformable to observation, it is the implication, the obverse, of the previous law connecting pleasure with increased activity.

The apparent exceptions to the second law need to be adverted to. The most obvious is the exciting effect of a smarting sensation, as the stroke of a whip. A light, smarting, pungent, stimulus, amounting to pain, quickens the general activity of the system for the time; while a more severe blow operates according to the general principle, and suspends activity. To quicken an animal’s pace, the light smart is often the best application; to arrest an access of action, there must be greater severity. The excitement of an acute smart is due not to the pain of it, but to the mere shock imparted to the nerves; if a similar intensity of nervous shock were also a387cause of pleasure, the stimulating effect would be far greater, and more prolonged; for the element of pain, in the case of the painful smart, destroys the activity in the second stage, when the nervous excitement has subsided. Any one walking at a certain pace, and suddenly jolted, is momentarily awakened to a higher pitch of nervous excitement; but goes on, after the shock, at a slackened pace. An acute smart has thus a twofold efficacy; it is both a temporary stimulant of activity, and a cause of reduced energy on the whole, according to the second law of the Will.

Another apparent exception is the vehemence manifested in escaping from pain; a mode of activity almost indistinguishably mixed up with the writhings and contortions of a creature under suffering, in other words, with the physical embodiments of the state of pain. The sudden excitement just adverted to also enters into the complex effect; being brought out at the first moment of the infliction, and at every new twinge in fitful modes of suffering. This energetic activity for escape is a distinct aspect of voluntary power. It is Locke’s typical form of the Will, but is here regarded as secondary or circuitous, and not as the primitive situation.

Thirdly. We must now then consider expressly the influence of pain in stimulating action for alleviation or escape, as when we draw back from anything that pains or offends us. To call the pain the direct stimulant in this situation, would be to connect pain and pleasure equally with the exaltation of our energies; which would be a contradiction, or else would tend to show that there is nocasualconnexion between pleasure or pain and our active exertions. The real motive force of pain, however, is not the state of suffering, but therelief; and relief from pain is another form of pleasure. That pleasure stimulates, that pain depresses, that alleviation of pain stimulates, are all one and the same phenomenon—statements of the same law.

There are two stages in the operation of pain. The first is, when under a present pain, something happens to give us relief; in which case, we experience on the instant, a burst of388physical elation, exactly as from a sudden access of pleasure. In exposure to a cold wind, we have the depression accompanying a massive pain; in coming gradually under shelter, we feel buoyed and elated, our movements are quickened, and we follow the lead with growing energy. Every one has experienced the stimulus of success, and the damping effect of failure; although, practically viewed, the success should dispense with the newborn energy, and the failure should bring about an increase of exertion. It takes a mind of unusual strength, to resist these natural tendencies.

In the second stage, pain is found acting as a stimulant, without present alleviation, and therefore without the benefit of the law of pleasure. How is this? The answer is, that the idea of the relief is the operative circumstance. The pedestrian exposed to a freezing wind is urged to an accelerated pace, by the secondary or derived impulse, growing out of the idea or anticipation of relief through a certain amount of exertion. That this idea is the real source of the new strength, is attested by the known facts and circumstances of the situation. A sufferer, having no idea, prospect, or hope of alleviation, flags and succumbs, in accordance with the proper tendency of pain; the stimulation of the active powers does not follow the degree of the misery, but the openings of a better lot. What was noted above as the strength of mind that induces a successful man to refrain from pushing on still farther, and an unsuccessful man to struggle the more, means the firm possession of anidea, to oppose the power of the present,—under success, an idea of moderation, and, under misery, an idea of relief to supply the active spur that the situation restrains. We call a man strong-minded, if he resists the pressure of the actual in favour of an ideal. This is the highest manifestation of energy of will. It owes its merit, and even its meaning, to the fact that a present pleasure inflames and a present pain quenches the activities; and that, to counterwork these tendencies, there must be a strong conception of ideal pain in the one case, and of ideal pleasure in the other; which is the same law of the mind in another form. We389cannot remain quiescent under a vivid and growing pleasure, unless by the prospect of pain in the distance; nor do we rouse up under pain without some idea of relief, that is, pleasure in the distance.

No general law of the mind is more thoroughly confirmed by the experience of human actions than the principle now stated in its three several aspects. There is, as has been seen, something to be accounted for, in the lively stimulus under acute smarts; there is, also, an obverse of this fact, in certain forms of pleasure (as gentle warmth) which are lulling and soporific; but these are the consequence of another law of the mind, in some degree complicating the phenomena, without disproving the main law of the Will.

Possibly, this principle, wide as it is, may be subsumed under a still wider:—namely, a principle connecting pleasure with nutrition, or the supply of vital power and stimulus, and, by implication, pain with the abatement or loss of vital energy; from which the law of the will would be a consequence. The attempt to resolve it so is highly interesting; but, in the psychological explanation of the will, we may be satisfied, for the present, to start from the less imposing, but well-grounded generality now given. At the same time, it will be found that, having once caught a glimpse of the higher law, we cannot avoid occasionally falling into the language suggested by it; so suitable does it often appear to the expression of the facts.

With regard to one great aspect of voluntary action,—our being movedtopleasure andfrompain, the law is the full and precise summary. The element of the will remaining unexplained, is theselectionof the proper movements in each case; as when we start up and walk in the direction of a pleasing sound. The rendering an account of this selective adaptation is the theory of the growth or development of the will.

In the delicate and difficult enquiry as to the manner of first attaining the voluntary command of the movements, the law of the will, just expounded, must still be referred to. But taken by itself, that law does not explain the beginnings of the will. It accounts for the keeping up of a movement390bringing pleasure, and the dropping of a movement bringing pain, but it does not account for the ability to single out, and set a-going, movements calculated to enhance pleasure and subdue pain, actual or distant. There is not, within its compass, any specifying or selective faculty.

The complete explanation of the Will demands a reference to two other laws of the mind. The first is the Spontaneous beginning of Movements; the second, the Retentive or Associative process constituting the basis of all our acquisitions.

By the Spontaneity of Movement is meant the tendency of human beings, and of animals generally, to begin acting without the express stimulus of sensation from without, and by virtue of the fund of power residing in the active organs themselves. By means of nourishment, the animal is disposed to pass into movement, from the mere abundance of the motor energy in the nerve centres and in the muscles. A large proportion of the activity of the more active creatures,—as the human species (especially the young), quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and insects,—is due to the presence of an active machinery provided with superabundance of motive power. Apart from the stimulus of sensation, from the wants and the pleasures of the animal, there is a necessity for the active organs to put forth their activity. The energy is greatly heightened,—often doubled or tripled, by the stimulation of the senses, and, after a certain education, by the influence of ideas; but it is far from remaining in abeyance till operated upon by stimulants from without or from within.

Besides summing up a large amount of the activity familiar to us in the life of human beings, and of animals, this Spontaneity has a special importance as a starting-point for the will. We have seen that the difficulty unprovided for by the law of pleasure and pain, is the singling out, or commencing, of the suitable movements. The utmost that the law can ensure is to retain or continue them, when once commenced. Now, the tendency to spontaneous action applies to all the voluntary members—locomotive organs, trunk, head, jaw,391tongue, mouth, eyes, voice, &c. There is, at the outset, no rule or order for the spontaneous outburst, except the physical condition of each organ, including the nervous connexions. The animal, in its exuberant phase, after nourishment and rest, may become active at any point; it may run, gesticulate, chew, gaze, cry out; or having expended itself in any one direction, it may fall into other regions of activity where the force is still abundant.

One or two instances must here suffice to indicate the process of attaining the selective faculty of the will, through Spontaneity, joined with the law of pleasure and pain. In the maturity of the will, we have the power of following with the eyes a moving object, partly by revolving the eye-balls, and partly by turning the head. An infant has no such power. The manner of arriving at it is open to observation, and is typical of the less obvious cases. Suppose the child to have its gaze fixed upon a light, or some other appearance of a stimulating kind. The physical effect of the stimulus, always conjoined with the mental effect, is an increase of energy (by the primary law of the will), which would manifest itself in quickening and retaining the child’s gaze; there is displayed a more energetic strain of the attention than had existed when the eyes found nothing to impart a special charm. Suppose next that the light is withdrawn, by being moved to one side. The loss of the stimulus instantly works as a depression; the heightened strain of attention collapses. Still, the child is not reduced to absolute quiescence; it has an internal fund of energy, independent of casual stimulations; the flowing out of this energy consists in a series of movements for the most part at random. It may happen, that one of these chance movements is a rotation of the eyes, or of the head, in the exact direction of the pleasing object, and therefore tending to recover the illumination. Instantly, there is a burst of heightened energy, according to the law of pleasure; and the movement accidentally commenced is persistently stimulated so long as the pleasure of the spectacle grows or continues. The concurrence is fortuitous; the prolongation of it is not fortuitous,392but follows the law of the will—the abiding by whatever movement is giving pleasure.

The completing step is due to the Retentive or plastic power of the mind. An association is begun between the optical effect of a light retreating from the full gaze to the right or to the left, and the muscular movements that enable the eye to follow it. After a certain number of similar chance coincidences, this bond of association is rendered firm enough to ensure the movement at once when the sensation is present; and one of the many thousand links constituting the mature will is thereby forged. The very same course of proceeding is followed in a host of other instances.

The beginnings of Imitation are also highly illustrative of the process. There is no trace of imitative power during the first months of infancy. The rise and progress of the power may be visibly discerned by any observer; and perhaps the best example for the purpose is Speech. In the beginnings of this extensive acquirement, the basis is most obviously the infant’s spontaneous articulations; these must be waited for by the instructor, who can only foster and maintain them when they come. The law of the will provides for the fostering part of the process. The child is, in all probability, gratified by the sound of its voice, when it gives forth any new sound, and so is stimulated to keep up the vocal exertion. Next in efficacy is the catching up and repeating of the sound by others, which is an addition to the pleasing stimulus. Under the two-fold agency, there is opportunity for an association to grow up between the vocal impulse and the sensation of the sound heard; which association is ultimately the medium of bringing on the articulation whenever it is desired.

The other cases of Imitation describe the same routine. The movements are initiated by random spontaneity; and when they arise, they are accompanied by a sensible impression on the eye, or on the ear; the concurrences, being regular and uniform, are at length contiguously associated; the muscular exertion of lifting the hand is connected with the visible picture of a lifted hand. At a certain stage, the association393may be brought to operate in the inverted order,—the sensations first, the movement next,—which is the whole fact of Imitation.

A numerous class of voluntary links consists in obeying the word of command, or in following verbal directions. This, as will be admitted, can be nothing but association. It is an association that would not be attainable without the spontaneous commencement. A child, or an animal, must perform a certain action,proprio motu, in the first instance; the name is then uttered in company with it; this being done repeatedly, a connexion is made whereby the word can induce or single out the movement.

In the training of animals, a hastening process is resorted to, which well exemplifies the difficulties in the early education of the will. In breaking a horse, the whip and the curb form the earliest instrumentality. The animal must still commence moving of its own accord. The business is to guide the spontaneity into definite channels, in consistency with the law of the will, and to connect all the various desired movements with language and signs, by whose means they can always be brought into play. When the colt under discipline is moving in the desired pace, it is allowed to go on without molestation or hindrance; when it deviates in any way, it is made to feel the pain of the whip or other check; this, by the law of pain, abates the existing movements; and if the abatement is the thing sought, the end is gained. The application may, however, be such as to quicken the movements by the smarting stimulus; an effect both exceptional and uncertain, and of use as causing a diversion of pace, out of which may come the movement desired. The surest agency of control, however, in the early and crude stage of the will, is the abatement of an excessive or a wrong movement by a decidedly painful check, such as the operation of the curb, which by pressing severely on a sensitive surface, is a certain means of depression; whereas, the light, irritating smart of the whip operates by a spasmodic uncertain stimulation. It is by the tendency of pain to put an arrest upon the wrong movement.394and of the relief from pain to indicate the right movement, that the trainer secures the obedience of the animal; he, at the same time, familiarizing its ear with the sounds that are to signify the various paces and movements. The spontaneous commencement is essential under all circumstances; according as this spontaneity is, from the first, ready, vigorous, and various, is the facility in attaining and cementing the initial links of voluntary command.

It will now be apparent that the immediate antecedent of a voluntary act is not solely the idea of the action to be performed. The successive upbuilding of the voluntary associations developes a series of phases, under which the direct antecedent is transformed into various shapes. The sensation of hunger may be the sole antecedent in prompting an animal to the search for food; the painful sensation is coupled at a very early stage with the sight and the idea of food. When a child first attains the power of lifting a sweet morsel to its mouth, the antecedent of the voluntary act is the sight of the morsel coupled with the remembrance of the sweetness. A farther advance takes place by associating the ultimate object with intermediate actions, as when the child learns to entreat what it wants from other persons. The stage that first brings in an idea of the moving members themselves is Imitation; in imitating by sight, the antecedent is the view of the parts moved. Through this medium, we pass to what is popularly considered the type of voluntary control, the moving from a wish to move. I will to raise the arm, and the act follows; the antecedent is the idea of the raised arm (together with some feeling to be gratified by the act). In the highest developments of voluntary acquisition, there is another case, also of frequent occurrence; namely, where the intellectual antecedent is the idea of the work to be done; as, for example, in the act of washing the hands, where we do not think of the movements to be gone through, but of a certain appearance to be produced.

In Chapter X., on Memory, it isremarked:—‘When we395are said to will, there must be in the mind what is willed.’ But the idea of what is immediately willed, with reference to the same ultimate end, may assume all the variations above described. To gain a pleasure or free ourselves from a pain, we may employ different instrumentalities; and the explanation of the will should comprehend them all.—B.

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