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PRESENTATION OF SELF] complex and loosely compacted idea of self those traits they originally wrought into it, suppressing to an equal extent all the rest. Normally there is a certain equilibrium to which they return, and which, we may suppose, determines the so-called temperament, naturel or disposition, thus securing some tolerable uniformity and continuity in the presentation of self. But even within the limits of sanity great and sudden changes of mood are possible, as, e.g. in hysterical persons or those of a “mercurial temperament,” or among the lower animals at the onset of parental or migratory instincts. Beyond those limits—as the concomitant apparently of serious visceral derangements or the altered nutrition of parts of the nervous system itself—complete “alienation” may ensue. A new self may arise, not only distinct from the old and devoid of all save the most elementary knowledge and skill that the old possessed, but diametrically opposed to it in tastes and disposition—obscenity, it may be, taking the place of modesty and cupidity or cowardice succeeding to generosity or courage. The most convincing illustrations of the psychological growth and structure of the presentation of self on the lower levels of sensation and ideation are furnished by these melancholy spectacles of minds diseased; but it is impossible to refer to them in detail here.

Passing to the higher level of intellection, we come at length upon the concept which every intelligent being more or less

distinctly forms of himself as a person, M. or N., having such and such a character, tastes and convictions, such and such a history, and such and such an aim in life. The main instrument in the formation of this concept, as of others, is language, and especially the social intercourse that language makes possible. Up to this point the presentation of self has shaped that of not-self,—that is to say, external things have been comprehended by the projection of its characteristics. But now the order is in a sense reversed: the individual advances to a fuller self-knowledge by comparing the self within with what is first discernible in other persons without. So far avant l'homme est la société; it is through the “us” that we learn of the “me” (cf. § 36, note 1). Collective action for common ends is of the essence of society, and in taking counsel together for the good of his tribe each one learns also to take counsel with himself for his own good on the whole; with the idea of the common weal arises the idea of happiness as distinct from momentary gratification. The extra-regarding impulses are now confronted by a reasonable self-love, and in the deliberations that thus ensue activity attains to its highest forms—those of thought and volition. In the first we have a distinctly active manipulation of ideas as compared with the more passive spectacle of memory and imagination. Thereby emerges a contrast between the thinker and these objects of his thought, including among them the mere generic image of self, from which is now formed this concept of self as a person. A similar, even sharper, contrast also accompanies the exercise of what is very misleadingly termed “self-control,” i.e. control by this personal self of “the various natural affections”—to use Butler's phrase—which often hinder it as external objects hindered them. It is doubtful whether the reasoning, regulating self is commonly regarded as definitely localized. The effort of thinking and concentrating attention upon ideas is no doubt referred to the brain, but this is only comparable with the localization of other efforts in the limbs; when we think we commonly feel also, and the emotional basis is of all the most subjective and inalienable. If we speak of this latest phase of self as par excellence “the inner self,” such language is then mainly figurative, inasmuch as the contrasts just described are contrasts into which spatial relations do not enter.

45. The term “reflection,” or internal perception is applied to that state of mind in which some particular presentation or group

of presentations (x or y) is not simply in the field of consciousness but there as consciously related to self, which is also presented at the same time. Self here may be symbolized by M, to emphasize the fact that it is in like manner an object in the field of consciousness. The relation of the two is commonly expressed by saying, “This (x or y) is my (M's) percept, idea or volition; I (M) it is that perceive, think, will it.” Self-consciousness, in the narrowest sense, as when we say “I know myself, I am conscious that I am,” &c., is but a special, though the most important, instance of this internal perception: here self (M) is presented in relation to self (with a difference, M′); the subject itself—at least, so we say—is or appears as its own object.

It has been often maintained that the difference between consciousness and reflection is not a real difference, that to know and to know that you know are “the same thing considered in

different aspects.” But different aspects of the same thing are not the same thing, for psychology at least. Not only is it not the same thing to feel and to know that you feel; but it might even be held to be a different thing still to know that you feel and to know that you know that you feel—such being the difference perhaps between ordinary reflection and psychological introspection. The difficulty of apprehending these facts and keeping them distinct seems obviously due to the necessary presence of the earlier along with the later; that is to say, we can never know that we feel without feeling. But the converse need not be true. How distinct the two states are is shown in one way by their notorious incompatibility, the direct consequence of the limitation of attention: whatever we have to do that is not altogether mechanical is ill done unless we lose ourselves in the doing of it. This mutual exclusiveness receives a further explanation from the fact so often used to discredit psychology, viz. that the so-called introspection, and indeed all reflection, are really retrospective. It is not while we are angry or lost in reverie that we take note of such states, but afterwards, or by momentary side glances intercepting the main interest, if this be not too absorbing.

But we require an exacter analysis of the essential fact in this retrospect—the relation of the presentation x or y to that of self or M. What we have to deal with, it will be observed, is, implicitly at least, a judgment. First of all, then, it is noteworthy that we are never prompted to such judgments by everyday occurrences or acts of routine, but only by matters of interest, and, as said, generally when these are over or have ceased to be all-engrossing. Now in such cases it will be found that some effect of the preceding state of objective absorption persists, like wounds received in battle, unnoticed till the fight is over—such e.g. as the weariness of muscular exertion or of long concentration of attention; some pleasurable or painful after-sensation passively experienced, or an emotional wave subsiding but not yet spent; “the jar of interrupted expectation,” or the relief of sudden attainment after arduous striving, making prominent the contrast of contentment and want in that particular; or, finally, the quiet retrospect and mental rumination in which we note what time has wrought upon us and either regret or approve what we were and did. All such presentations are of the class out of which, as we have seen, the presentation of self is built up, and so form in each case the concrete bond connecting the generic image of self with its object. In this way and in this respect each is a concrete instance of what we call a state, act, affection, &c., and the judgments in which such relations to the standing presentation of self are recognized are the original and the type of all real predications. The opportunities for reflection are at first few, the materials being as it were thrust upon attention, and the resulting “percepts” are but vague. By the time, however, that a clear concept of self has been attained the exigencies of life make it a frequent object of contemplation, and as the abstract of a series of instances of such definite self-consciousness we reach the purely formal notion of a subject or pure ego. For empirical psychology this notion is ultimate; its speculative treatment falls altogether—usually under the heading “rational psychology”—to metaphysics.

46. The growth of intellection and self-consciousness reacts powerfully upon the emotional and active side of mind. To

describe the various sources of feeling and of desire that thus arise—aesthetic, social and religious sentiments, pride, ambition, selfishness, sympathy, &c.—is beyond the scope of systematic psychology, and certainly quite beyond the limits of an article like the present. But at least a general résumé of the characteristics of activity on this highest or rational level is indispensable. If we are to gain any oversight in a matter of such complexity it is of the first importance to keep steadily in view, as a fundamental principle, that as the causes of feeling become more complex, internal, and representative the consequent actions change in like manner. We have noted this