CHAPTER VII. IS FEELING AN AGENT?

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78. Descartes having attributed all animal actions to a sensitive mechanism, and indeed all human actions to a similar mechanism, endeavored to reconcile this hypothesis with the irresistible facts of Consciousness—which assured us that our actions, at least, were determined by Feeling. To this end he assumed that man had a spiritual principle over and above the sentient principle. The operation of this principle was, however, limited to Thought; the actions themselves were all performed by the automatic mechanism; so that, in strict logic, the conclusion from his premises was the same for man as for animals.

This conclusion Professor Huxley announced in his Address before the British Association, 1874222—to the great scandal of the general public, which did not understand him aright; and to the scandal also of a physiological public, which, strangely enough, failed to see that it was the legitimate expression of one of their favorite theories—the celebrated Reflex Theory. Now although it is quite open to any one to reject the premises which lead to such a conclusion, if he sees greater evidence against the conclusion than for the premises, it is surely irrational to accept the premises as those of scientific induction, and yet reject the conclusion because it endangers the stability of other opinions? For my own part, I do not accept the premises, and my polemic will have reference to them.

79. Professor Huxley adopts certain Theses which represent the views generally adopted by physiologists; to which he adds a Thesis which is adopted by few, and which he only puts forward hypothetically. Against these positions I place Antitheses, less generally adopted, but which in my belief approximate more nearly to the inductions of experience.

Theses. Antitheses.
I. There can be no sensation without consciousness. I. There is sensation without consciousness, if consciousness means a special mode of Sentience.
II. There can be no consciousness without the co-operation of the brain. II. The co-operation of the brain is only necessary for a special mode of Sentience; other modes are active when the brain is inactive.
III. Sensation and Consciousness are in some inexplicable way caused by molecular changes in the brain, following upon these as one event follows another, the causal link between motion and sensation being a mystery. III. Unless the molecular changes be limited to the brain as the occasional cause, there is no following of sensation or motion, no causal link between the two; but the neural process is the sensation, viewed objectively, the sensation is the neural process, viewed subjectively. In this antithesis, Neural Process is not limited to the brain, but comprises the whole sensitive organism as the efficient cause.
IV. All actions which take place unconsciously are reflex, and reflex actions are the operation of an insentient mechanism; they are therefore as purely mechanical as those of automata. IV. All actions are the actions of a reflex mechanism, and all are sentient, even when unconscious; they are therefore never purely mechanical, but always organical.
V. The animal body is a reflex mechanism; even when the brain co-operates with the other centres, and produces consciousness, this product is not an agent in determining action, it is a collateral result of the operation. V. Sentience being necessary to reflex action, it is necessarily an agent.

80. The first four Theses are those current in our textbooks, so that it is only the fifth which will have the air of a paradox. Nor, as a paradox, is it without advocates. Schiff long ago suggested it hypothetically. Hermann mentions it as entertained by physiologists, whom he does not name.223 Laycock, and, if I remember rightly, Dr. Drysdale, have insisted on it; and Mr. Spalding has proclaimed it with iterated emphasis. Of the Antitheses nothing need be said here, since the whole of this volume is meant to furnish their evidence.

I have already stated that my polemic is against the views that Professor Huxley is supposed to hold by those whom his expressions mislead, rather than against the views I imagine him really to hold. I have little doubt that he would disavow much that I am forced to combat, although his language is naturally interpreted in that sense. But I do not know in how far he would agree with me, and in the following remarks I shall confine myself to what seems to be the plain interpretation of his words, since that is the interpretation which has been generally adopted, and which I most earnestly desire to refute.

81. To begin with this passage. After stating the views of Descartes, he says: “As actions of a certain degree of complexity are brought about by mere mechanism, why may not actions of still greater complexity be the result of a more refined mechanism? What proof is there that brutes are other than a superior race of marionnettes, which eat without pleasure, cry without pain, desire nothing, know nothing, and only simulate intelligence as a bee simulates a mathematician?” What proof? Why, in the first place, the proof which is implied in the “more refined mechanism” required for the greater complexity of actions. In the next place, the proof that the organism of the brute is very different from the mechanism of a marionnette, and is so much more like the organism of man, that since we know man to eat with pleasure and cry with pain, there is a strong presumption that the brute eats and cries with somewhat similar feelings.

82. Having stated the hypothesis, Professor Huxley says he is not disposed to accept it, though he thinks it cannot be refuted. His chief reason for not accepting it is that the law of continuity forbids the supposition of any complex phenomenon suddenly appearing; the community between animals and men is too close for us to admit that Consciousness could appear in man without having its beginnings in animals. Finding that animals have brains, he justly concludes that they also must have brain functions; and they also therefore must be credited with Consciousness. This argument seems to me to have irresistible cogency; and to be destructive not only of the automaton hypothesis, but equally of the hypothesis on which the Reflex Theory is founded. If the law of continuity forbids the sudden appearance of Consciousness, the law of similarity of property with similarity of structure forbids the supposition that central nerve-tissue in one part of the system can suddenly assume a totally different property in another part. If the brain of an animal, a bird, a reptile, or a fish—and a fortiori if the oesophageal ganglia of an insect or a mollusc—may be credited with Sensibility, because of the fundamental similarity of these structures with the structures of the human brain, then surely the spinal cord must be credited with Sensibility; for the tissue of the spinal cord is more like that of the brain, than the brain of a reptile is like the brain of a man. The sudden disappearance of all Sensibility, on the removal of one portion of the central nervous system, would be a violation of the law of continuity. And if it be said that Consciousness is not the same as Sensibility, but is a specially evolved function of a specially developed organ, the answer will be that this is only a difference of mode, and that the existence of Sensibility is that which renders the automaton and reflex theories untenable.

83. Professor Huxley would probably admit this; for however his language may at times seem to point to another conclusion, and is so far ambiguous, he has expressed the view here maintained with tolerable distinctness in the following passage, to which particular attention is called:—

“But though we may see reason to disagree with Descartes’ hypothesis, that brutes are unconscious machines, it does not follow that he was wrong in regarding them as automata. They may be more or less conscious sensitive automata; and the view that they are such conscious machines is that which is implicitly or explicitly adopted by most persons. When we speak of the actions of the lower animals being guided by instinct and not by reason, what we really mean is that though they feel as we do, yet their actions are the results of their physical organization. We believe, in short, that they are machines, one part of which (the nervous system) not only sets the rest in motion and co-ordinates its movements in relation with changes in surrounding bodies, but is provided with a special apparatus the function of which is the calling into existence of those states of consciousness which are termed sensations, emotions, and ideas.”

84. To say that they are “conscious automata” seems granting all that I demand; but there are two objectionable positions which the phrase conceals: first, that Consciousness is not a coefficient; and secondly, that Reflex Action is purely mechanical.

Professor Huxley nowhere, I think, establishes the distinction between Consciousness as a term for a special mode of Feeling, and Consciousness as the all-embracing term for sentient phenomena. His language always implies that an action performed unconsciously is performed mechanically; which may be acceptable if by unconsciously be meant insentiently. I hold that whether consciously or unconsciously performed, the action is equally vital and sentient. In the case he has cited of a soldier now living who is subject to periodic alternations of normal and abnormal states, in the latter states all the actions being said to be “unconscious,” we have only to read the account to recognize ample evidence of Sentience. Here is a descriptive passage:—

85. “His [the soldier’s in the abnormal state] movements remain free, and his expression calm, except for a contraction of the brow, an incessant movement of the eyeballs, and a chewing motion of the jaws. The eyes are wide open, and their pupils dilated. If the man happens to be in a place to which he is accustomed he walks about as usual; but if he is in a new place, or if obstacles are intentionally placed in his way, he stumbles against them, stops, and then feeling over the objects with his hands, passes on one side of them. He offers no resistance to any change of direction which may be impressed upon him, or to the forcible acceleration or retardation of his movements. He eats, drinks, smokes, walks about, dresses and undresses himself, rises and goes to bed at the accustomed hours. Nevertheless pins may be run into his body, or strong electric shocks sent through it, without causing the least indication of pain; no odorous substance, pleasant or unpleasant, makes the least impression; he eats and drinks with avidity whatever is offered, and takes asafoetida or vinegar of quinine as readily as water; no noise affects him; and light influences him only under certain conditions.” There is no one of these phenomena that is unfamiliar to students of mental disease. The case is chiefly remarkable from the periodicity of the recurrence of the abnormal state. I have collected other cases of the kind, and may hereafter find a fitting occasion to quote them.224 The anÆsthesia and “unconsciousness” noted, no more prove the actions performed by this soldier to have been purely mechanical, i.e. undetermined by sensation, than anÆsthesia and unconsciousness prove somnambulists and madmen to be machines. In the pathological state called “ecstasy” there is a considerable diminution of sensibility to external stimuli; with a concentration on certain feelings, images, trains of thought, exhibiting itself in expressions of emotion. “Les malades,” says a master, “paraissent entiÈrement absorbÉs par leurs mouvements intÉrieurs, ils refusent gÉnÉralement de manger, et spÉcialement la volontÉ de l’Âme semble complÈtement enchainÉe.”225

86. Observe that while this soldier exhibits such insensibility to certain stimuli, he unequivocally exhibits sensibility to other stimuli. All his acts show sense-guidance. Sight and Touch obviously regulate his movements. And when he feels objects placed in his way, and then passes beside them, wherein does this differ from the normal procedure of sensitive organisms? wherein does it resemble automata? Dr. Mesmet—from whose narrative the case is cited—remarks that the sense of Touch seems to persist “and indeed to be more acute and delicate than in the normal state”; upon which Professor Huxley has this comment:—“Here a difficulty arises. It is clear from the facts detailed that the nervous apparatus by which in the normal state sensations of touch are excited is that by which external influences determine the movements of the body in the abnormal state. But does the state of consciousness, which we term a tactile sensation, accompany the operation of this nervous apparatus in the abnormal state? or is consciousness utterly absent, the man being reduced to a pure mechanism? It is impossible to obtain direct evidence in favor of the one conclusion or the other; all that can be said is that the case of the frog shows that the man may be devoid of any kind of consciousness.”

87. It is here we are made vividly aware of the absolute need there is to disengage the terms employed from their common ambiguities. All the evidence of a tactile sensation which can possibly be furnished, on the objective side, is furnished by the actions of this soldier; to doubt it would be to throw a doubt on the sensibility of any animal unable to tell us what it felt; nay, even a man if he were dumb, or spoke a language we could not understand, could give us no other proof. We conclude that the soldier had tactile sensations, because we see him guided by them as we ourselves are guided by tactile sensations; we know that he is an organism, not a machine, and therefore reject the inference that he has become reduced to a “pure mechanism” because it is inferred that his consciousness is absent. And on what is this inference grounded? 1°, The belief that the brain is the sole organ of consciousness (Sentience)—a belief flatly disproved by the facts, which show Sentience when the brain has been removed; and 2°, the belief that the decapitated frog, because it avoids obstacles and redirects its leaps to avoid them, does so without Sentience. According to the definition we adopt, we may either say that the decapitated frog, and the soldier in his abnormal state, act without consciousness, or with it. But what does not seem permissible is to deny that their actions exhibit the clearest evidence of sense-guidance, and the kind of volition which this sense-guidance implies; and this is quite enough to separate them from actions of automata. When a man ducks his head to avoid a stone which he sees falling towards him, he assuredly has a sensation, i.e. there is a grouping of neural elements, which subjectively is a sensation, and this originates a grouping of other neural elements, the outcome of which is a muscular movement, which subjectively is a motor sensation: this grouping would not have been originated unless the particular grouping had preceded it; nor would the simple retinal stimulus have excited this sensation unless the nerve-centres had been attuned to such response by many previous experiences: the ignorant child would not duck its head on seeing the stone approach. In our familiar use of the word Consciousness it would be correct to say that the man ducks his head “unconsciously”; and yet expressing the fact in psychological language, we also say: He ducks his head because remembering the pain of former similar experiences, he knows that if the stone strikes him he will again be hurt as before, therefore he wills to avoid it; expressing it in physiological language we may say: The man acts thus because he is so organized that a particular neural process is the stimulus of a particular central discharge; and he became thus organized through a long series of anterior adjustments responding to stimuli, each adjustment being the activity of the vital organism.

88. There can be no doubt that the soldier had perceptions, and that these perceptions guided his movements; whether these shall be called “states of consciousness” or not, is a question of terms. Now since we know that certain actions are uniformly consequent on certain perceptions, we are justified in inferring that whenever the actions are performed, the perceptions preceded them: this inference may be erroneous, but in the absence of positive evidence to the contrary it is that which claims our first assent. Is it evidence to the contrary that the perception may have stimulated the action, yet been unaccompanied by the special mode named consciousness? Not in the least. We learn to read with conscious effort; each letter has to be apprehended separately, its form distinguished from all other forms, its value as a sign definitely fixed, yet how very rarely are we “conscious” of the letters when we read a book? Each letter is perceived; and yet this process passes so rapidly and smoothly, that unless there be some defect in a letter, or the word be misspelled, we are not “conscious” of the perceptions. Are we therefore reading automata?226

We are said to walk unconsciously at times; and the continuance of the movement is said to be due to reflex action. But it is demonstrable that the cutaneous sensibility of the soles of the feet is a primary condition. If the skin be insensible, the walking becomes a stumble. In learning to walk, or dance, the child fixes his eyes on his feet, as he fixes them on his fingers in learning to play the piano. After a while these registered sensations connected with the muscular sense suffice to guide his feet or his fingers; but not if feet or fingers lose their sensibility.

89. With these explanations let us follow the further details of this soldier’s abnormal actions:— “The man is insensible to sensory impressions made through the ear, the nose, the tongue, and, to a great extent, the eye; nor is he susceptible to pain from causes operating during his abnormal state. Nevertheless it is possible so to act upon his tactile apparatus as to give rise to those molecular changes in his sensorium which are ordinarily the causes of associated trains of ideas. I give a striking example of this process in Dr. Mesmet’s words: ‘Il se promenait dans le jardin, on lui remet sa canne qu’il avait laissÉ tomber. Il la palpe, promÈne À plusieurs reprises la main sur la poignÉe coudÉe de sa canne—devient attentif—semble prÊter l’oreille—et tout À coup appelle, “Henri! les voilÀ!” Et alors portant la main derriÈre son dos comme pour prendre une cartouche, il fait le mouvement de charger son arme, se couche dans l’herbe À plat ventre dans la position d’un tirailleur, et suit avec l’arme ÉpaulÉe tous les mouvements de l’ennemi qu’il croit voir À courte distance.’ In a subsequent abnormal period Dr. Mesmet caused the patient to repeat this scene by placing him in the same conditions. Now in this case the question arises whether the series of actions constituting this singular pantomime was accompanied by the ordinary states of consciousness, the appropriate trains of ideas, or not? Did the man dream that he was skirmishing? or was he in the condition of one of Vaucanson’s automata—a mechanism worked by molecular changes in the nervous system? The analogy of the frog shows that the latter assumption is perfectly justifiable.”

90. Before criticising this conclusion let me adduce other illustrations of this dreamlike activity. “A gentleman whom I attended in a state of perfect apoplexy,” says Abercrombie, “was frequently observed to adjust his nightcap with the utmost care when it got into an uncomfortable state: first pulling it down over his eyes, and then turning up the front of it in the most exact manner.” According to the current teaching, these actions, which seem like evidence of sensation, are nothing of the kind, because—the patient was “unconscious”; that is to say, because he did not exhibit one complex kind of Sensibility, it is denied that he exhibited another kind! he did not feel discomfort, nor feel the movements by which it was rectified—because he could not speak, discuss impersonal questions, nor attend to what was said to him! Abercrombie cites other cases: “A gentleman who was lying in a state of perfect insensibility from disease of the brain” (note the phrase, which really only expresses the fact that external stimuli did not create their normal reactions) “was frequently observed even the day before his death to take down a repeating watch from a little bag at the head of his bed, put it close to his ear and make it strike the hour, and then replace it in the bag with the greatest precision. Another whom I saw in a state of profound apoplexy, from which he recovered, had a perfect recollection of what took place during the attack, and mentioned many things which had been said in his hearing when he was supposed to be in a state of perfect unconsciousness.” Dr. Wigan also tells of a lady whom he knew, and who was actually put in a coffin, under the belief that she was dead when in a trance. Her sense of hearing was then preternaturally acute. In her second-floor bedroom she heard what the servants said in her kitchen. When her brother came to see her and he declared she should not be buried until putrefaction set in, she felt intense gratitude and a gush of tenderness, but was unable to move even an eyelid as a manifestation of her feeling. Suddenly all her faculties returned. Dr. Wigan adds that he visited the Countess Escalante, one of the Spanish refugees, who remained in a similar state for a short period, during which she saw her husband and children, and was quite conscious of all they did and said—but did not recognize them as her own. She was absolutely without the power of moving a finger or of opening her mouth. Dr. Neil Arnott told me of a similar case in his practice. In these last cases we learn that consciousness—in its ordinary acceptation—was present, though bystanders could see no trace of it. And very often in cases where Consciousness, or at any rate Sensibility, is clearly manifested, its presence is denied, because the patient on recovering his normal condition is quite unable to remember anything that he felt and did. Under anÆsthetics patients manifest sensation, but on awaking they declare that they felt nothing—of what value is their declaration? M. Despine tells us of a patient who under chloroform struggled, swore, and cried out, “Mon Dieu! que je souffre!” yet when the operation was over, and he emerged from the effects of the chloroform, he remembered nothing of what he had felt.227

91. Returning now to Dr. Mesmet’s soldier, and to the conclusion that his dreamlike acts were no more than the actions of one of Vaucanson’s automata, surely we are justified in concluding, first, that these actions were not of the same kind as those of an automaton, since they were those of a living organism; secondly, that they present all the evidence positive and inferential which Sensibility can present in the actions we observe in another, and do not feel in ourselves; and thirdly, if with physiologists we agree that the mechanism of these actions is “worked by molecular changes in the nervous system,” there is some difficulty in understanding how Consciousness, which is said to be caused by such changes, could have been absent—how the cause could operate yet no effect be produced.

92. What automata can be made to perform is surprising enough, but they can never be made to display the fluctuations of sense-guided actions, such as we see in the report of Dr. Mesmet’s soldier:—

“The ex-sergeant has a good voice, and had at one time been employed as a singer at a cafÉ. In one of his abnormal states he was observed to begin humming a tune. He then went to his room, dressed himself carefully, and took up some parts of a periodical novel which lay on the bed, as if he were trying to find something. Dr. Mesmet, suspecting that he was seeking his music, made up one of these into a roll and put it into his hand. He appeared satisfied, took up his cane, and went down stairs to the door. Here Dr. Mesmet turned him round, and he walked quite contentedly in the opposite direction. The light of the sun shining through a window happened to fall upon him, and seemed to suggest the footlights of the stage on which he was accustomed to make his appearance. He stopped, opened his roll of imaginary music, put himself in the attitude of a singer, and sang with perfect execution three songs one after the other. After which he wiped his face with his handkerchief and drank without a grimace a tumbler of strong vinegar-and-water.”

93. Epileptic patients have frequently been observed going through similar dreamlike actions in which only those external stimuli which have a relation to the dream seem to take effect.228 We interpret these as phenomena of disordered mental action, the burden of proof lies on him who says they are phenomena of pure mechanism. A mail-coach does not suddenly cease to be a mail-coach and become a wheelbarrow because the coachman is drunk, or has fallen from the box. The horses, no longer guided by the reins, may dash off the highroad into gardens or ditches; but it is their muscular exertions which still move the coach.

Can any one conceive an automaton acting as the sergeant is described to be in the following passage?—

“Sitting at a table he took up a pen, felt for paper and ink, and began to write a letter to his general, in which he recommended himself for a medal on account of his good conduct and courage. It occurred to Dr. Mesmet to ascertain experimentally how far vision was concerned in this act of writing. He therefore interposed a screen between the man’s eyes and his hands; under these circumstances he went on writing for a short time, but the words became illegible, and he finally stopped. On the withdrawal of the screen, he began to write again where he had left off. The substitution of water for ink in the inkstand had a similar result. He stopped, looked at his pen, wiped it on his coat, dipped it in the water, and began again, with the same effect. On one occasion he began to write upon the topmost of ten superposed sheets of paper. After he had written a line or two, this sheet was suddenly drawn away. There was a slight expression of surprise, but he continued his letter on the second sheet exactly as if it had been the first. This operation was repeated five times, so that the fifth sheet contained nothing but the writer’s signature at the bottom of the page. Nevertheless, when the signature was finished, his eyes turned to the top of the blank sheet, and he went through the form of reading over what he had written, a movement of the lips accompanying each word; moreover, with his pen he put in such corrections as were needed.”

94. Dr. Mesmet concludes that “his patient sees some things and not others; that the sense of sight is accessible to all things which are brought into relation with him by the sense of touch, and, on the contrary, is insensible to things which lie outside this relation.” In other words, the sensitive mechanism acts, but acts abnormally. This is precisely what is observed in somnambulists. Yet Professor Huxley, who makes the comparison, appears to regard both states as those in which the organism is reduced to a mere mechanism, because on recovering their normal state the patients are unconscious of what has passed; and because the frog, without its brain, also manifests analogous phenomena. Neither premise warrants the conclusion. I have already touched on the unconsciousness of past actions; let me add the case of Faraday, who was assuredly not an automaton when he prepared and delivered a course of lectures which were nevertheless so entirely obliterated from his memory that the next year he prepared and delivered the same course once more, without a suspicion that it was not a new one. As to the frog, I must leave that case till I come to examine the evidence on which the hypothesis of the purely mechanical nature of spinal action rests.

95. The point never to be left out of sight is that actions which are known to be preceded and accompanied by sensations do not lose their special character of Sentience, as actions of a sentient mechanism, because they are not also preceded and accompanied by that peculiar state which is specially called Consciousness, i.e. attention to the passing changes (comp. p. 403). When we see a man playing the piano, and at the same time talking of something far removed from the music, we say his fingers move unconsciously; but we do not conclude that he is a musical machine—muscular sensations and musical sensations regulate every movement of his fingers; and if he strikes a false note, or if one of the notes jangles, he is instantly conscious of the fact. Either we must admit that his brain is an essential part of the mechanism by which the piano was played, and its function an essential agent in the playing; or else we must admit that the brain and its function were not essential, and therefore the playing would continue if the brain were removed. In the latter case, we should have a musical automaton. That a particular group of sensations, such as musical tones, will set going a particular group of muscular movements, without the intervention of any conscious effort, is not more to be interpreted on purely mechanical principles, than that a particular phrase will cause a story-teller to repeat a familiar anecdote, or an old soldier “to fight his battles o’er again.”

96. Let us now pass to another consideration, namely, whether Consciousness—however interpreted—is legitimately conceived as a factor in the so-called conscious and voluntary actions; or is merely a collateral result of certain organic activities? To answer this, we must first remember that Consciousness is a purely subjective process; although we may believe it to be objectively a neural process, we are nevertheless passing out of the region of Physiology when we speak of Feeling determining Action. Motion may determine Motion; but Feeling can only determine Feeling. Yet we do so speak, and are justified. For thereby we implicitly declare, what Psychology explicitly teaches, namely, that these two widely different aspects, objective and subjective, are but the two faces of one and the same reality. It is thus indifferent whether we say a sensation is a neural process, or a mental process: a molecular change in the nervous system, or a change in Feeling. It is either, and it is both, as I have elsewhere explained.229 There it was argued that the current hypothesis of a neural process causing the mental process—molecular movement being in some mysterious way transformed into sensation—is not only inconceivable, but altogether unnecessary; whereas the hypothesis that the two aspects of the one phenomenon are simply two different expressions, now in terms of Matter and Motion, and now in terms of Consciousness, is in harmony with all the inductive evidence.

97. “It may be assumed,” says Professor Huxley, “that molecular changes in the brain are the causes of all the states of consciousness of brutes. Is there any evidence that these states of consciousness may conversely cause those molecular changes which give rise to muscular motion? I see no such evidence. The frog walks, hops, swims, and goes through his gymnastic performances, quite as well without consciousness, and consequently without volition, as with it; and if a frog in his natural state possesses anything corresponding with what we call volition, there is no reason to think that it is anything but a concomitant of the molecular changes in the brain, which form part of the series involved in the production of motion. The consciousness of brutes would appear to be related to the mechanism of their body simply as a collateral product of its working, and to be as completely without any power of modifying that working as the steam-whistle which accompanies the work of a locomotive engine is without influence upon its machinery. Their volition, if they have any, is an emotion indicative of physical changes, not a cause of such changes.” Particular attention is called to the passages in italics. In the first is expressed a view which seems not unlike the one I am advocating, but which is contradicted by the second. Let us consider what is implied.

98. When Consciousness is regarded solely under its subjective aspect there is obviously no place for it among material agencies, regarded as objective. So long as we have the material mechanism in view we have nothing but material changes. This applies to the frog, with or without its brain; to man, supposed to be moved by volition, or supposed to move automatically. The introduction of Consciousness is not the introduction of another agent in the series, but of a new aspect; the neural process drops out of sight, the mental process replaces it. The question whether we have any ground for inferring that in the series there is included the particular neural state which subjectively is a state of Consciousness, must be answered according to the evidence. Well, the evidence shows that the actions do involve the co-operation; and this Professor Huxley expresses when he says that the molecular changes in the brain form part of the series involved in the production of motion. Whether we regard the process objectively as a series of molecular changes, or subjectively as a succession of sentient changes, the sum of which is on the one side a motor impulse, on the other a state of consciousness, we must declare Consciousness to be an agent, in the same sense that we declare one change in the organism to be an agent in some other change. The facts are the same, whether we express them in physiological or in psychological terms. The physiologist, having only the material aspect of the organism in view, says, “A cerebral process initiates a motor process”; the psychologist says, “A sensation determines an action.” Unless the two processes have been linked together by an organic disposition, native or acquired, there will be no such motor process following the cerebral process. A dog standing outside the gate is unable to ring the bell, though having seen another dog ring it, he may wish to do so; but the cerebral process (his wish) is not linked on to the needful motor process—he has not learned to realize the wish; whereas the other dog, having by trial hit upon the right mode of directing his muscles, has registered this experience, and can ring the bell. The organized disposition which enables the dog to do this may truly enough be called a modification of the mechanism; but what we have here to note is that a sensation originally determined the movement, and always determines it.

99. It is the unfortunate ambiguity of the word Consciousness, and the questionable hypothesis of the brain being the sole seat of Sensibility, which darken this investigation. Because animals, after the brain has been removed, are seen to perform certain actions as deftly as before, they are said to perform these without the intervention of Consciousness; when all that is proved by the facts is that these actions are performed without the intervention of the brain. In support of this explanation, examples are cited of unconscious actions performed by human beings. But if we assign Sensibility not to one part of the nervous system exclusively, but to the whole, we can readily understand how the loss of a part will be manifested by very marked changes in the reactions of the whole, and yet not altogether prevent the reactions of the parts remaining intact. An animal must respond somewhat differently with and without a brain. One marked difference is the spontaneity of the actions when the brain is intact, and the loss of much spontaneity when the brain is injured or removed. Cerebral processes prompt and regulate actions, as the pressure of the driver on the reins prompts and regulates the movements of the horses; but the carriage is moved by the horses and not by the driver; and the action is executed by the motor mechanism, whether the incitation arise in a cerebral process or a peripheral stimulation.

100. If we admit that Consciousness is itself an organic process, accompanying the molecular changes as a convex surface accompanies a concave, we must also admit that its fluctuations are adjustments and readjustments of the organic mechanism, and that the actions are the effects of these—their resultants. The loss of the brain must obviously cause a great disturbance in these adjustments. We may call that a loss of Consciousness, if we choose to limit the term to one mode of sentient reaction. But this loss of a mode does not change those reactions which persist so as to convert them into purely mechanical reactions. A troop of soldiers may have lost its directing officer, but will fight with the old weapons and the old intelligence, though not with the same convergence of individual efforts. A frog or a pigeon no more acts as well without a brain as with a brain, than the troop of soldiers fights as well without an officer.

101. Having thus claimed a place for Consciousness in the series of organic processes, let us now see whether it has a place among the active agencies. According to Professor Huxley it is not itself an agent, but only the “collateral product of the working of the machine.” It accompanies actions, it does not direct them. It is an index, not a cause.

Surely it seems more accurate to say that it accompanies and directs the working? It accompanies the working in two senses: first, as the subjective aspect of the objective process; secondly, as the change which produces a subsequent change, that is to say, the movements initiated by a feeling are themselves also felt as they pass; and this feeling enters into the general stream of simultaneous excitations out of which new movements and feelings arise; or to express it physiologically, the sensory impressions determine muscular movements, which in turn react on the nerve-centres, and these reactions blend with the general excitation of reflected and re-reflected processes.230 Since every change in Consciousness is a change in the sentient organism, which objectively is a change in the nervous centres, the working of the mechanism being itself a dependent series of such changes, each movement must have a reflected influence on the general state. This reflected influence may be viewed as a collateral product of the working; but there is no real analogy between it and the whistle of the steam-engine, because this reflected influence demonstrably does intervene in the subsequent movements. The feeling which accompanies or follows a particular movement cannot indeed modify that movement, since that is already set going, or has passed; here there is some analogy to the steam-whistle; but the analogy fails in the subsequent history: no movements whatever of the steam-engine are modified by the whistle which accompanies the working of that engine; yet how the reflected influence modifies the working of the organism! If the hand be passing over a surface, there is, accompanying this movement, a succession of muscular and tactile feelings which may be said to be collateral products. But the feeling which accompanies one muscular contraction is itself the stimulus of the next contraction; if anywhere during the passage the hand comes upon a spot on the surface which is wet or rough, the change in feeling thus produced, although a collateral product of the movement, instantly changes the direction of the hand, suspends or alters the course—that is to say, the collateral product of one movement becomes a directing factor in the succeeding movement. Now this is precisely what no automaton can effect, unless for changes that are prearranged. A steam-engine drives its locomotive over the rails, be they smooth or rough, entire or broken; it whistles as it goes, but no whistling directs and redirects its path.

102. Volition is said to be an “emotion indicative of physical changes, not a cause of such changes.” Here it is necessary to understand in what sense the term cause is employed. I should prefer stating the proposition thus: a volition is a state of the sentient organism, indicative of physical changes which have taken place, and of changes which will take place. Because it is the expression of the first group of changes, it cannot be their origin; but it can be, and is the origin of the second group, which it initiates. The indignation excited by an insult or a blow is not the origin of the emotion or the pain, but it is the origin of the actions which are prompted by this sentient state. In fact no sooner do we admit that the organism is a sentient mechanism, than the conclusion is irresistible that Sensibility is a factor in the working of that mechanism.

103. “Much ingenious argument,” says Professor Huxley, “has at various times been bestowed upon the question: How is it possible to imagine that volition which is a state of consciousness, and as such has not the slightest community of nature with matter and motion, can act upon the moving matter of which the body is composed, as it is assumed to do in voluntary acts? But if, as is here suggested, the voluntary acts of brutes—or in other words, the acts which they desire to perform—are as purely mechanical as the rest of their actions, and are simply accompanied by the state of consciousness called volition, the inquiry, so far as they are concerned, becomes superfluous. Their volitions do not enter into the chain of causation of their actions at all.... As consciousness is brought into existence only as the consequence of molecular motion in the brain, it follows that it is an indirect product of material changes. The soul stands related to the body as the bell of a clock to the works, and consciousness answers to the sound which the bell gives out when it is struck.” This has been answered in the foregoing pages; nor do I think the reader who has recognized the ambiguity of the term Consciousness, and the desirability of replacing it in this discussion by the less equivocal term Sentience, will need more to be said.

104. The important question whether reflex actions are insentient, and therefore mechanical, will occupy us in the next problem. The question of Automatism which has been argued in the preceding chapters, may, I think, be summarily disposed of by a reference to the irresistible evidence each man carries in his own consciousness that his actions are frequently—even if not always—determined by feelings. He is quite certain that he is not an automaton, and that his feelings are not simply collateral products of his actions, without the power of modifying and originating them. Now this fundamental fact cannot be displaced by any theoretical explanation of its factors. Nor would this fundamental truth be rendered doubtful, even supposing we were to grant to the full all that is adduced as evidence that some actions were the result of purely mechanical processes without sentience at all. I am a conscious organism, even if it be true that I sometimes act unconsciously. I am not a machine, even if it be true that I sometimes act mechanically.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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