THE CONTENTS OF THE MIND.
In the language of common life, the "mind" is spoken of as an entity,
independent of the body, though resident in and closely connected with
it, and endowed with numerous "faculties," such as sensibility,
understanding, memory, volition, which stand in the same relation to the
mind as the organs do to the body, and perform the functions of feeling,
reasoning, remembering, and willing. Of these functions, some, such as
sensation, are supposed to be merely passive--that is, they are called
into existence by impressions, made upon the sensitive faculty by a
material world of real objects, of which our sensations are supposed to
give us pictures; others, such as the memory and the reasoning faculty,
are considered to be partly passive and partly active; while volition is
held to be potentially, if not always actually, a spontaneous activity.
The popular classification and terminology of the phenomena of
consciousness, however, are by no means the first crude conceptions
suggested by common sense, but rather a legacy, and, in many respects, a
sufficiently _damnosa hæreditas_, of ancient philosophy, more or less
leavened by theology; which has incorporated itself with the common
thought of later times, as the vices of the aristocracy of one age
become those of the mob in the next. Very little attention to what
passes in the mind is sufficient to show, that these conceptions involve
assumptions of an extremely hypothetical character. And the first
business of the student of psychology is to get rid of such
prepossessions; to form conceptions of mental phenomena as they are
given us by observation, without any hypothetical admixture, or with
only so much as is definitely recognised and held subject to
confirmation or otherwise; to classify these phenomena according to
their clearly recognisable characters; and to adopt a nomenclature which
suggests nothing beyond the results of observation. Thus chastened,
observation of the mind makes us acquainted with nothing but certain
events, facts, or phenomena (whichever name be preferred) which pass
over the inward field of view in rapid and, as it may appear on careless
inspection, in disorderly succession, like the shifting patterns of a
kaleidoscope. To all these mental phenomena, or states of our
consciousness,[18] Descartes gave the name of "thoughts,"[19] while
Locke and Berkeley termed them "ideas." Hume, regarding this as an
improper use of the word "idea," for which he proposes another
employment, gives the general name of "perceptions" to all states of
consciousness. Thus, whatever other signification we may see reason to
attach to the word "mind," it is certain that it is a name which is
employed to denote a series of perceptions; just as the word "tune,"
whatever else it may mean, denotes, in the first place, a succession of
musical notes. Hume, indeed, goes further than others when he says
that--
"What we call a mind is nothing but a heap or collection of
different perceptions, united together by certain relations, and
supposed, though falsely, to be endowed with a perfect simplicity
and identity."--(I. p. 268.)
With this "nothing but," however, he obviously falls into the primal and
perennial error of philosophical speculators--dogmatising from negative
arguments. He may be right or wrong; but the most he, or anybody else,
can prove in favour of his conclusion is, that we know nothing more of
the mind than that it is a series of perceptions. Whether there is
something in the mind that lies beyond the reach of observation; or
whether perceptions themselves are the products of something which can
be observed and which is not mind; are questions which can in nowise be
settled by direct observation. Elsewhere, the objectionable hypothetical
element of the definition of mind is less prominent:--
"The true idea of the human mind is to consider it as a system of
different perceptions, or different existences, which are linked
together by the relation of cause and effect, and mutually produce,
destroy, influence and modify each other.... In this respect I
cannot compare the soul more properly to anything than a republic
or commonwealth, in which the several members are united by the
reciprocal ties of government and subordination, and give rise to
other persons who propagate the same republic in the incessant
changes of its parts."--(I. p. 331).
But, leaving the question of the proper definition of mind open for the
present, it is further a matter of direct observation, that, when we
take a general survey of all our perceptions or states of consciousness,
they naturally fall into sundry groups or classes. Of these classes, two
are distinguished by Hume as of primary importance. All "perceptions,"
he says, are either "_Impressions_" or "_Ideas_."
Under "impressions" he includes "all our more lively perceptions, when
we hear, see, feel, love, or will;" in other words, "all our sensations,
passions, and emotions, as they make their first appearance in the soul"
(I. p. 15).
"Ideas," on the other hand, are the faint images of impressions in
thinking and reasoning, or of antecedent ideas.
Both impressions and ideas may be either _simple_, when they are
incapable of further analysis, or _complex_, when they may be resolved
into simpler constituents. All simple ideas are exact copies of
impressions; but, in complex ideas, the arrangement of simple
constituents may be different from that of the impressions of which
those simple ideas are copies.
Thus the colours red and blue and the odour of a rose, are simple
impressions; while the ideas of blue, of red, and of rose-odour are
simple copies of these impressions. But a red rose gives us a complex
impression, capable of resolution into the simple impressions of red
colour, rose-scent, and numerous others; and we may have a complex idea,
which is an accurate, though faint, copy of this complex impression.
Once in possession of the ideas of a red rose and of the colour blue, we
may, in imagination, substitute blue for red; and thus obtain a complex
idea of a blue rose, which is not an actual copy of any complex
impression, though all its elements are such copies.
Hume has been criticised for making the distinction of impressions and
ideas to depend upon their relative strength or vivacity. Yet it would
be hard to point out any other character by which the things signified
can be distinguished. Any one who has paid attention to the curious
subject of what are called "subjective sensations" will be familiar with
examples of the extreme difficulty which sometimes attends the
discrimination of ideas of sensation from impressions of sensation, when
the ideas are very vivid, or the impressions are faint. Who has not
"fancied" he heard a noise; or has not explained inattention to a real
sound by saying, "I thought it was nothing but my fancy"? Even healthy
persons are much more liable to both visual and auditory spectra--that
is, ideas of vision and sound so vivid that they are taken for new
impressions--than is commonly supposed; and, in some diseased states,
ideas of sensible objects may assume all the vividness of reality.
If ideas are nothing but copies of impressions, arranged, either in the
same order as that of the impressions from which they are derived, or in
a different order, it follows that the ultimate analysis of the contents
of the mind turns upon that of the impressions. According to Hume,
these are of two kinds: either they are impressions of sensation, or
they are impressions of reflection. The former are those afforded by the
five senses, together with pleasure and pain. The latter are the
passions or the emotions (which Hume employs as equivalent terms). Thus
the elementary states of consciousness, the raw materials of knowledge,
so to speak, are either sensations or emotions; and whatever we discover
in the mind, beyond these elementary states of consciousness, results
from the combinations and the metamorphoses which they undergo.
It is not a little strange that a thinker of Hume's capacity should have
been satisfied with the results of a psychological analysis which
regards some obvious compounds as elements, while it omits altogether a
most important class of elementary states.
With respect to the former point, Spinoza's masterly examination of the
Passions in the third part of the _Ethics_ should have been known to
Hume.[20] But, if he had been acquainted with that wonderful piece of
psychological anatomy, he would have learned that the emotions and
passions are all complex states, arising from the close association of
ideas of pleasure or pain with other ideas; and, indeed, without going
to Spinoza, his own acute discussion of the passions leads to the same
result,[21] and is wholly inconsistent with his classification of those
mental states among the primary uncompounded materials of consciousness.
If Hume's "impressions of reflection" are excluded from among the
primary elements of consciousness, nothing is left but the impressions
afforded by the five senses, with pleasure and pain. Putting aside the
muscular sense, which had not come into view in Hume's time, the
questions arise whether these are all the simple undecomposable
materials of thought? or whether others exist of which Hume takes no
cognizance.
Kant answered the latter question in the affirmative, in the _Kritik der
reinen Vernunft_, and thereby made one of the greatest advances ever
effected in philosophy; though it must be confessed that the German
philosopher's exposition of his views is so perplexed in style, so
burdened with the weight of a cumbrous and uncouth scholasticism, that
it is easy to confound the unessential parts of his system with those
which are of profound importance. His baggage train is bigger than his
army, and the student who attacks him is too often led to suspect he has
won a position when he has only captured a mob of useless
camp-followers.
In his _Principles of Psychology_, Mr. Herbert Spencer appears to me to
have brought out the essential truth which underlies Kant's doctrine in
a far clearer manner than any one else; but, for the purpose of the
present summary view of Hume's philosophy, it must suffice if I state
the matter in my own way, giving the broad outlines, without entering
into the details of a large and difficult discussion.
When a red light flashes across the field of vision, there arises in the
mind an "impression of sensation"--which we call red. It appears to me
that this sensation, red, is a something which may exist altogether
independently of any other impression, or idea, as an individual
existence. It is perfectly conceivable that a sentient being should have
no sense but vision, and that he should have spent his existence in
absolute darkness, with the exception of one solitary flash of red
light. That momentary illumination would suffice to give him the
impression under consideration; and the whole content of his
consciousness might be that impression; and, if he were endowed with
memory, its idea.
Such being the state of affairs, suppose a second flash of red light to
follow the first. If there were no memory of the latter, the state of
the mind on the second occasion would simply be a repetition of that
which occurred before. There would be merely another impression.
But suppose memory to exist, and that an idea of the first impression is
generated; then, if the supposed sentient being were like ourselves,
there might arise in his mind two altogether new impressions. The one is
the feeling of the _succession_ of the two impressions, the other is the
feeling of their _similarity_.
Yet a third case is conceivable. Suppose two flashes of red light to
occur together, then a third feeling might arise which is neither
succession nor similarity, but that which we call _co-existence_.
These feelings, or their contraries, are the foundation of everything
that we call a relation. They are no more capable of being described
than sensations are; and, as it appears to me, they are as little
susceptible of analysis into simpler elements. Like simple tastes and
smells, or feelings of pleasure and pain, they are ultimate irresolvable
facts of conscious experience; and, if we follow the principle of Hume's
nomenclature, they must be called _impressions of relation_. But it must
be remembered, that they differ from the other impressions, in requiring
the pre-existence of at least two of the latter. Though devoid of the
slightest resemblance to the other impressions, they are, in a manner,
generated by them. In fact, we may regard them as a kind of impressions
of impressions; or as the sensations of an inner sense, which takes
cognizance of the materials furnished to it by the outer senses.
Hume failed as completely as his predecessors had done to recognise the
elementary character of impressions of relation; and, when he discusses
relations, he falls into a chaos of confusion and self-contradiction.
In the _Treatise_, for example, (Book I., § iv.) resemblance, contiguity
in time and space, and cause and effect, are said to be the "uniting
principles among ideas," "the bond of union" or "associating quality by
which one idea naturally introduces another." Hume affirms that--
"These qualities produce an association among ideas, and upon the
appearance of one idea naturally introduce another." They are "the
principles of union or cohesion among our simple ideas, and, in
the imagination, supply the place of that inseparable connection by
which they are united in our memory. Here is a kind of
_attraction_, which, in the mental world, will be found to have as
extraordinary effects as in the natural, and to show itself in as
many and as various forms. Its effects are everywhere conspicuous;
but, as to its causes they are mostly unknown, and must be resolved
into _original_ qualities of human nature, which I pretend not to
explain."--(I. p. 29.)
And at the end of this section Hume goes on to say--
"Amongst the effects of this union or association of ideas, there
are none more remarkable than those complex ideas which are the
common subjects of our thought and reasoning, and generally arise
from some principle of union among our simple ideas. These complex
ideas may be resolved into _relations_, _modes_, and
_substances_."--(_Ibid._)
In the next section, which is devoted to _Relations_, they are spoken of
as qualities "by which two ideas are connected together in the
imagination," or "which make objects admit of comparison," and seven
kinds of relation are enumerated, namely, _resemblance_, _identity_,
_space and time_, _quantity or number_, _degrees of quality_,
_contrariety_, and _cause and effect_.
To the reader of Hume, whose conceptions are usually so clear, definite,
and consistent, it is as unsatisfactory as it is surprising to meet with
so much questionable and obscure phraseology in a small space. One and
the same thing, for example, resemblance, is first called a "quality of
an idea," and secondly a "complex idea." Surely it cannot be both. Ideas
which have the qualities of "resemblance, contiguity, and cause and
effect," are said to "attract one another" (save the mark!), and so
become associated; though, in a subsequent part of the _Treatise_,
Hume's great effort is to prove that the relation of cause and effect is
a particular case of the process of association; that is to say, is a
result of the process of which it is supposed to be the cause. Moreover,
since, as Hume is never weary of reminding his readers, there is nothing
in ideas save copies of impressions, the qualities of resemblance,
contiguity, and so on, in the idea, must have existed in the impression
of which that idea is a copy; and therefore they must be either
sensations or emotions--from both of which classes they are excluded.
In fact, in one place, Hume himself has an insight into the real nature
of relations. Speaking of equality, in the sense of a relation of
quantity, he says--
"Since equality is a relation, it is not, strictly speaking, a
property in the figures themselves, but arises merely from the
comparison which the mind makes between them."--(I. p. 70.)
That is to say, when two impressions of equal figures are present, there
arises in the mind a _tertium quid_, which is the perception of
equality. On his own principles, Hume should therefore have placed this
"perception" among the ideas of reflection. However, as we have seen, he
expressly excludes everything but the emotions and the passions from
this group.
It is necessary therefore to amend Hume's primary "geography of the
mind" by the excision of one territory and the addition of another; and
the elementary states of consciousness will stand thus:--
A. IMPRESSIONS.
A. Sensations of
_a._ Smell.
_b._ Taste.
_c._ Hearing.
_d._ Sight.
_e._ Touch.
_f._ Resistance (the muscular sense).
B. Pleasure and Pain.
C. Relations.
_a._ Co-existence.
_b._ Succession.
_c._ Similarity and dissimilarity.
B. IDEAS.
Copies, or reproductions in memory, of the foregoing.
And now the question arises, whether any, and if so what, portion of
these contents of the mind are to be termed "knowledge."
According to Locke, "Knowledge is the perception of the agreement or
disagreement of two ideas;" and Hume, though he does not say so in so
many words, tacitly accepts the definition. It follows, that neither
simple sensation, nor simple emotion, constitutes knowledge; but that,
when impressions of relation are added to these impressions, or their
ideas, knowledge arises; and that all knowledge is the knowledge of
likenesses and unlikenesses, co-existences and successions.
It really matters very little in what sense terms are used, so long as
the same meaning is always rigidly attached to them; and, therefore, it
is hardly worth while to quarrel with this generally accepted, though
very arbitrary, limitation of the signification of "knowledge." But, on
the face of the matter, it is not obvious why the impression we call a
relation should have a better claim to the title of knowledge, than that
which we call a sensation or an emotion; and the restriction has this
unfortunate result, that it excludes all the most intense states of
consciousness from any claim to the title of "knowledge."
For example, on this view, pain, so violent and absorbing as to exclude
all other forms of consciousness, is not knowledge; but becomes a part
of knowledge the moment we think of it in relation to another pain, or
to some other mental phenomenon. Surely this is somewhat inconvenient,
for there is only a verbal difference between having a sensation and
knowing one has it: they are simply two phrases for the same mental
state.
But the "pure metaphysicians" make great capital out of the ambiguity.
For, starting with the assumption that all knowledge is the perception
of relations, and finding themselves, like mere common-sense folks, very
much disposed to call sensation knowledge, they at once gratify that
disposition and save their consistency, by declaring that even the
simplest act of sensation contains two terms and a relation--the
sensitive subject, the sensigenous object, and that masterful entity,
the Ego. From which great triad, as from a gnostic Trinity, emanates an
endless procession of other logical shadows and all the _Fata Morgana_
of philosophical dreamland.
FOOTNOTES:
[18] "Consciousnesses" would be a better name, but it is awkward. I have
elsewhere proposed _psychoses_ as a substantive name for mental
phenomena.
[19] As this has been denied, it may be as well to give Descartes's
words: "Par le mot de penser, j'entends tout ce que se fait dans nous de
telle sorte que nous l'apercevons immédiatement par nous-mêmes: c'est
pourquoi non-seulement entendre, vouloir, imaginer, mais aussi sentir,
c'est le même chose ici que penser."--_Principes de Philosophie_. Ed.
Cousin. 57.
"Toutes les propriétés que nous trouvons en la chose qui pense ne sont
que des façons différentes de penser."--_Ibid._ 96.
[20] On the whole, it is pleasant to find satisfactory evidence that
Hume knew nothing of the works of Spinoza; for the invariably abusive
manner in which he refers to that type of the philosophic hero is only
to be excused, if it is to be excused, by sheer ignorance of his life
and work.
[21] For example, in discussing pride and humility, Hume says:--
"According as our idea of ourselves is more or less advantageous, we
feel either of these opposite affections, and are elated by pride or
dejected with humility ... when self enters not into the consideration
there is no room either for pride or humility." That is, pride is
pleasure, and humility is pain, associated with certain conceptions of
one's self; or, as Spinoza puts it:--"Superbia est de se præ amore sui
plus justo sentire" ("amor" being "lætitia concomitante idea causæ
externæ"); and "Humilitas est tristitia orta ex eo quod homo suam
impotentiam sive imbecillitatem contemplatur."