There have thus been passed in review a variety of involuntary
movements obtained in different ways, and with bearings upon many
points of importance to the psychologist. They by no means exhaust
the possibilities of research, or the deduction of conclusions in
this field of study; but they may serve to illustrate how subtle
and intricate are the expressions of the thoughts that lie within.
That involuntary movements are by no means limited to the type here
illustrated is easily shown. In the exhibitions of muscle-reading,
the changes in breathing, the flushing, the tremor of the subject
when the reader approaches the hiding-place, and the relative
relaxation when he is on the wrong scent, serve as valuable clues;
to borrow the apt expression of "hide and seek," the performer
grows "hot" and "cold" with his subject. Then, too, the tentative
excursions in one direction and another, to determine in which the
subject follows with least resistance, present another variation
of the same process. The hushed calm of the audience when success
is near, the restlessness and whispering during a false scent, are
equally welcome suggestions which a clever performer freely utilizes,
thereby adding to the éclat of his exhibition. When a combination
of numbers or of letters in a word is to be guessed, the operator
passes over with the subject the several digits or the alphabet, and
notes at which the tell-tale tremor or mark of excitement occurs,
and so again performs the feat on the basis of the involuntary
contractions that express the slight changes of attention or interest
when the correct number or letter is indicated. In much the same
way we unwittingly betray our feelings and emotions, our interest or
distraction or ennui; the correct interpretation of these in others
and their suppression in one's self form part of the artificial
complexity of social intercourse. But in the line of experimental
demonstration also, another form of involuntary movement has been
brought forward in recent years by the investigation of Hansen and
Lehmann upon "involuntary whispering." This investigation brings
out the fact that many of us, when we think intently of a number,
tend to innervate the mechanism appropriate to its utterance. We do
not actually speak or whisper the word or sound, but we initiate
the process. If one person thinks of a number,--say from one to
ten, or from one to one hundred,--and the other records any number
which at the same moment suggests itself to him, it may result that
the proportion of correct or partially correct guesses exceeds that
which chance would produce; and arguments for telepathy have been
based on such results. In the series of experiments in question these
"involuntary whisperings" were not severely suppressed,--much as in
the automatograph tests one might determine to let the glass move if
it would. It must be understood that there was no true whispering
nor any movement of the speaking mechanism which a bystander could
detect; and yet it seems likely that the one participant was
influenced in his guessing by the vague but yet real, subconscious,
embryonic articulation of the other. The proof of this lies mainly
in the analysis of the successes and errors; for the confusions are
strikingly between numerals of somewhat similar sound,--as between
fourteen and forty, or sixty and thirty, or six and seven. If the
two persons are seated in the respective foci of two concave surfaces
which collect the sound (thus in a measure paralleling the exalted
sensibility of specially gifted or hypnotized subjects), the chances
of success seem to be increased. While the investigation is both
complex and incomplete, yet the general trend of it is sufficiently
clear to make it probable that "involuntary whispering" serves more
or less frequently as a subconscious and involuntary indication
of thought. It shows again that below the threshold of conscious
acquisition and intentional expression lie a considerable range of
activities, which though they blossom unseen do not quite waste their
fragrance, but come wafted over in vague and subtle essence. The
falling of a drop of water is unheard, but the sound of the roaring
torrent is but the sound of myriads of drops. The boundary between
the conscious and the unconscious is broad and indefinite; and vague
influences, if not direct messages, pass from one side to the other.
The general bearing of the study of involuntary movements I
have indicated at the outset; and no elaborate comment on the
practical significance of the results described seems necessary.
They certainly facilitate the appreciation of the reality of the
subconscious and the involuntary; and in connection with explanations
of muscle-reading or telepathy, they illustrate how naturally a
neglect of this realm of psychological activity may lead to false
conclusions. They bring a striking corroboration of the view that
thought is but more or less successfully suppressed action, and as a
well-known muscle-reader expresses it, all willing is either pushing
or pulling.