Chapter L: E. W., forty-nine years of age, farmer and lawyer by occupation, a (3)

"(b) Part played by the secondary consciousness in absent-mindedness. (1) Some apparently absent-minded acts are only examples of amnesia. There is no doubling of consciousness at the time. It is a sort of continuous amnesia brought about by lack of attention. (2) In true absent-mindedness there does occur a division of consciousness along lines which allow a large field to, and relatively wide synthesis of the dissociated states. The personal consciousness is proportionately restricted. The subconscious thoughts may involve a certain amount of volition and judgment, as when the subject subconsciously took a book from the table, carried it to the bookcase, started to place it on the shelf, found that particular location unsuitable, arranged a place on another shelf where the book was finally placed. No evidence, however, was obtained to show that the dissociated consciousness is capable of wider and more original synthesis than is involved in adapting habitual acts to the circumstances of the moment.

"(c) Solving problems by the secondary consciousness. [The statement of the hypnotic self regarding the part played by the ‘secondary consciousness’ has already been given in Lecture VI, p. 167.]

“The subject of these observations was at the time in good mental and physical condition. Criticism may be made that, the subject being one who had exhibited for a long time previously the phenomena of mental dissociation, she now, though for the time being recovered, tended to a greater dissociation and formation of subconscious states than does a normal person, and that the subconscious phenomena were therefore exaggerated. This is true. It is probable that the subconscious flora of ideas in this subject are richer than in the ordinary individual. These phenomena probably represent the extreme degree of dissociation compatible with normality. And yet, curiously enough, the evidence tended to show that the more robust the health of the individual, the more stable her mind, the richer the field of these ideas.”

Of course it is a question how far the findings in a particular and apparently specially favorable subject are applicable to people in general. I would say, however, that I have substantially confirmed these observations in another subject, B. C. A., when in apparent health. In this latter subject the richness of the fringe and what may be called the ultra-marginal region in conscious states is very striking. The same is true of O. N. (cf. Lecture VI, p. 174). Again in psychasthenics, suffering from attacks of phobia, association, or habit psycho-neuroses, etc., I have been able to recover, after the attack has passed off, memories of conscious states which during and preliminary to the attack were outside the focus of attention. Of some of these the subject had been dimly aware, and of some apparently entirely unaware (i.e., they were coconscious). For the former as well as the latter there followed complete amnesia, so that the subject was ignorant of their previous presence, and believed that the whole content of consciousness was included in the anxiety or other state which occupied the focus of attention. Consequently I am in the habit, when investigating a pathological case, like an obsession, of inquiring (by technical methods) into the fringe of attention and even the ultra-marginal region, and reviving the ideas contained therein, particularly those for which there is amnesia. My purpose has been to discover the presence of ideas or thoughts which as a setting would explain the meaning of the idea which was the object of fear (a phobia), the exciting cause of psycho-neurotic attacks, etc. To this I shall presently return.

If all that I have said is true, it follows that the _whole content or field of consciousness at any given moment includes not only considerably more than that which is within the field of attention but more than is within the field of awareness_. The field of conscious states as a whole comprises the focus of attention plus the marginal fringe; and besides this there may be a true subconscious ultra-marginal field comprising conscious states of which the personal consciousness is not even dimly aware. We may schematically represent the relations of the different fields by a diagram (Fig. 1).

It will be noted that the field of conscious states includes A., B., and C. and is larger than that of awareness, which includes A. and B. The field of awareness is larger than that of attention (A.), but the focus of awareness coincides with the field of attention, or, as it is ordinarily termed, the focus of attention. Of course there is no sharp line of demarcation between any of these fields, but a gradual shading from A. to D. Any such diagrammatic representation, although of help to those who like to visualize concepts, must give a false viewpoint; as in reality the relations are dynamic or functional, and the different fields more properly should be viewed as different but inter-related participants in a large dynamic mechanism.

=The meaning of ideas may be found in the fringe of consciousness.=—Let us now return from this general survey of the fringe of consciousness to our theme—the setting which gives meaning to ideas.

It is obvious that, theoretically, when I attend to the perceptive images of an idea, the meaning of that idea, not being in the focus of awareness, may be found among the conscious states that make up the fringe of the dynamic field. For instance, if my idea of a certain politician, my knowledge of whom, we will say, has been gained entirely from the newspapers, is that of a bad man—a “crook”—this meaning may be dimly in the fringe of my awareness. It is not necessary that any large part of this knowledge should be in the marginal zone of the content of consciousness but only a summary of all the knowledge I have acquired regarding him. The _origin_ of this meaning—a crook—I can easily find in my associative memories of what I have read. But there would seem to be no need of all these to persist as a functioning setting—a short summary in the form of an idea, secondary image, a word or symbol of a bad man would seem to be sufficient. The same principle is applicable to a large number of the simple images of objects in my environment—a book, an electric lamp, a horse, etc.

It is not easy with such normal ideas of everyday life to analyze the fringe and determine precisely its contents. There is no sharp dividing line between the various zones—the whole being a dynamic system. _The moment attention is directed to the marginal zones they become the focus and vice versa._ To obtain accurate knowledge of the marginal zones we require individuals suitable for a special technique by which the constituents of these zones can be brought back as memory.

For such purposes certain persons with pathological ideas (e. g., phobias)[169] are very favorable subjects for various reasons not necessary to go into.

Now, as respects the simple normal ideas of everyday life, such as I have just cited, a person can give very clearly his viewpoint. He has a very definite notion of the meaning of his perceptions and can give his reasons for them based on his associative memories of past experiences which he can recall. But in the conditions to which I am now referring _a person can give no explanation_ of a particular viewpoint which may be of a very definite but unusual (abnormal) character. Nor can he recall any experiences which would explain the origin of it. I have in mind particularly the obsessions.

Now, according to my observations, we find in the marginal zones of the content of consciousness conscious elements which in particular cases may even give a hitherto unsuspected meaning to the pathological idea. I have found in these zones thoughts which gave meaning to emotions and other symptoms excited by apparently inadequate objects. Thus, in H. O., attacks of recurrent nausea and fear almost prohibiting social intercourse were always due to thoughts of self-disgust hidden in the fringe.

Let us take a concrete case, that of a person who has a pathological fear and who, as we know is often the case, can give no explanation of his viewpoint. The fear may be that of fainting, or of thunderstorms, of a particular disease, say cancer, or of so-called “unreality” attacks, or what not. This so-called “fear” is of course an idea of self or other object linked with, or which occasions as a reaction, the strong emotion of fear. It recurs in attacks which are excited by stimuli, of one kind or another, that are associated with the idea. The patient can give no explanation of the _meaning_ of this idea that renders intelligible why it should occasion his fear. There is nothing in his consciousness, so far as he knows, which gives an adequate meaning to it.

Thus, for example, C. D. was the victim of attacks of fear; the attacks were so intense that at times she had been almost a prisoner in her house, in dread of attacks away from home; and yet she was unable even after two prolonged searching examinations to define the exact nature of the fear which was the salient feature of the attacks, or, from her ordinary memories, to give any explanation of its origin. She remembered many moments in the last twenty years when the fear had come upon her with great intensity, but she could not recall the date of its inception and, therefore, the conditions under which it originated; consequently nothing satisfactory could be elicited beyond an early history of “anxiety attacks” or indefinable fear of great intensity attached to no specific idea that she knew.

As a result of searching investigation by technical methods it was brought out that the specific object of the fear was _fainting_. When an attack developed, besides intense physiological disturbances and confusion of thought, there was in the content of consciousness a feeling that her mind was flying off into space and a definite thought of losing consciousness or fainting, and that she was going to faint. There was amnesia for these thoughts following the attacks. She never had fainted in the attacks and, as it later transpired, had fainted only once in her life. Here then, _dimly in the content_ of consciousness, was the object of the fear in an attack. But the object was afterwards forgotten; hence she could not explain what she was afraid of. Why fainting should be such a terrible accident to be feared she also could not explain.

The question now was, what possible meaning could fainting have for her that she so feared it? This she did not know.

Now, on still further investigation, I found that there was always in the fringe of consciousness during an attack and also during the anticipatory fear of an attack, _an idea and fear of death_. This, to use her expression, “was in the background of her mind”; it referred to impending fainting. It appeared then that in the fringe or ultra-marginal zone was the _idea of death as the meaning of fainting_. _Of this she was never aware._ It was really subconscious. It was the meaning of her idea of herself fainting. In consequence of this meaning fainting was equivalent to her own death. She would not have been afraid of fainting if she had not believed or could have been made to believe that in her case it did not mean death. We might properly say that the real object of the fear was death.

When this content of the fringe of attention was recovered, the patient voluntarily remarked that she had not been aware of the presence during the attacks of that idea, but now she remembered it clearly, and also realized plainly why she was afraid of fainting,—what she had not understood before. (It must be borne in mind that this meaning of fainting, as a state equivalent to death, did not pertain to fainting in general but solely to herself. She knew perfectly well that fainting in other people was not dangerous; it was only an unrecognized belief regarding a possible accident to herself.) Besides this content of the fringe of attention it was also easy to show that the fringe often included the thought (or idea) which had been the immediate excitant of each attack. Sometimes this stimulus-idea entered the focus of attention; sometimes it was only in the fringe. In either case there was apt to be amnesia for it, but it could always be recalled to memory in abstraction or hypnosis.

The content of consciousness taken as a whole, i.e., to include both the focus and the fringe of attention, then would adequately determine the meaning of this subject’s idea of fainting as applied to herself.

But why this meaning of fainting? It must have been derived from antecedent experiences. An idea can no more have a meaning without antecedent experiences with which it is or once was linked than can the word “parallelopipedon” have a geometrical meaning without a previous geometrical experience, or “Timbuctoo” a personal meaning without being set in a personal experience, whether of missionaries or hymn-books.

I will not take the time to give the detailed results of the investigation by hypnotic procedures that followed. I will merely summarize by stating that the fear of death from fainting was a recurrent memory, i.e., _a recurrence of the content of consciousness_ of a moment during an incident that occurred more than twenty years before, when she was a young girl about 18 years of age. At the time as the result of a nervous shock she had fainted, and just before losing consciousness she definitely thought her symptoms meant death. At this thought she became frightened, and ever since she has been afraid of fainting. There was no conscious association between her phobia and this youthful episode. When the memory of the latter was recovered she remarked, “I wonder why I never thought of that before.”

But this again was not all. A searching investigation of the unconscious (residua) in deep hypnosis revealed the fact that death from fainting was organized with still wider experiences involving a fear of death. At the moment of the nervous shock just before fainting (_fancied as dying_) she thought of her mother who was dangerously ill from _cancer_ in an adjoining room, and a great fear swept over her at the thought of what might happen to her mother if she should hear of the cause of her (the patient’s) nervous shock and of her _death_. It further transpired that the idea of death and fear of it were set in a still larger series of experiences.[170] It had, indeed, dated from a childhood experience when she was eight years of age. At that time she was frightened when a pet animal died and a fear of death had been more or less continuously present in her mind ever since, but not always consciously so; meaning that it was sometimes in awareness and sometimes in the _ultra-marginal zone_ of consciousness. She had been able to conceal the fear until the fainting episode occurred and, as she in hypnosis asserted, fear afterward had continued to be present more or less persistently, although _she was not conscious of the fact when awake_ (excepting in the phobic attacks) and it had attached itself to various ideas of intercurrent illnesses. But these ideas could all be reduced to two, _fainting and cancer_. Ever since her mother’s illness and death she had a fear of death from cancer, believing she might inherit the disease. This thought and the fear it aroused had been constantly in her mind but never previously confessed. It was the real meaning of her fear of illness which had been conspicuous and puzzling to her physician. She had imagined that each illness might mean cancer, but had successfully concealed this thought. The idea of death and the fear it excited had thus become constellated in a large _unconscious_ complex derived from past experiences which included the fainting episode, her mother’s death from cancer and the possibility of having cancer herself. This last was still _consciously believed_ and was very real to her.

Without pursuing further the details it is evident that although the meaning of fainting—death—was in the fringe of consciousness and subconscious, it had as a setting a large group of fear-inspiring experiences, more particularly those involving cancer. But there was no conscious association between her fear of fainting and that of cancer. _Of this setting, during a phobic attack, only the ideas of fainting and fear-inspiring death enter the various zones of consciousness._

As to why this apparently unsophisticated idea of death still _persisted_ in connection with that of fainting is another problem with which we are not concerned at this moment. We should have to consider more specifically the content of the setting in which, besides the cancer-belief, probably subconscious self-reproaches would be found.

=Meaning may be the conscious elements of a functioning larger subconscious complex.=—However, whatever be its conscious constituents, obviously meaning must be derived from antecedent experiences and without such experiences no idea can have meaning. If, then, antecedent experiences determine the meaning of the idea, it is _theoretically_ possible, particularly with insistent ideas, that the conscious elements involved in meaning are, with many ideas at least, only part and parcel of a larger complex which is for the most part unconscious. That is to say, a portion of this complex—perhaps the larger portion represented by the residua of past experiences—would, under this hypothesis, be unconscious while certain elements would arise in consciousness as the meaning of a given idea. Under such conditions a hidden subconscious process would really determine the conscious setting which gives the meaning. The whole setting would be partly conscious and partly hidden in the unconscious. Such a mechanism may be roughly likened to that of a clock, so far as concerns the relation of the chimes and hands to the works concealed inside the case. Though the visible hands and the audible chimes appear to indicate the time, the real process at work is that of the hidden mechanism. To inhibit the chime or regulate the time rate the mechanism must be altered. And so with an insistent idea: The unconscious part of the complex setting must be altered to alter the meaning of the idea. Of course the analogy must not be carried too far as in the case of the clock the chimes and hands are only epiphenomena, while conscious ideas are elements in the functioning mechanism.

Such a theory would afford an adequate explanation of the psychogenesis and mechanism of certain pathological ideas such as the phobia of C. D. At any rate, it is plain that an explanation of such ideas must be sought, on the one hand, in their meanings and in the antecedent experiences to which they are related, and, on the other, in the processes which determine their insistency or fixation.

The facts which support this theory, to which our studies have led us, we will take up for consideration in our next lecture.

-----

Footnote 165:

It is very doubtful whether vivid awareness is a matter of intensity
because, among other reasons, subconscious ideas of which the
individual is entirely unaware and elements in the fringe may have
decided intensity.

Footnote 166:

The development of amnesia seems to be inversely proportionate to the
degree of awareness, provided there are no other dissociating factors,
such as an emotional complex.

Footnote 167:

This is due to the well-known fact (demonstrated in a large variety of
phenomena) that ideas dissociated from the personal consciousness
awake may become synthesized as memories with this same consciousness
in hypnosis.

Footnote 168:

See _Proceedings_, also _The Psychological Review_, March-May, 1905.

Footnote 169:

All pathological processes are only the normal under altered
conditions.

Footnote 170:

Among them was the following: A few months later her mother died. C.
D. was in the room with the body, her back turned toward the bed where
the body lay. Suddenly she was startled by the window curtain blowing
out of the window. The noise and the partial vision of the curtain
gave her a start, for she thought the body had risen up in bed. At
this point, while in hypnosis, C. D. remarked, “Ah! that explains the
dream which I am always having. I am constantly having a frightful
dream of my mother lying dead and rising up as a corpse from the bed.
This dream always gives me a great terror.”

LECTURE XII
SETTINGS OF IDEAS AS SUBCONSCIOUS PROCESSES IN OBSESSIONS

In our last lecture we were led to two conclusions: (1) that the conscious elements which are the meaning of an idea may be in the marginal zones; and (2) more important, that “meaning” may be only a part of a larger setting of antecedent experiences, which is an unconscious complex.

Let us now consider the further question raised in the theory finally proposed; namely, whether the submerged elements of a complex remain quiescent or _whether, in some cases at least, this portion functions subconsciously_ and takes part as an active factor in the whole process by which the meaning of an idea and its accompanying emotional tone invades the content of consciousness. If the latter be true, a hidden subconscious process would, according to the theory (to repeat what was previously said), really determine the conscious setting which gives the meaning. Such a mechanism was roughly likened to that of a clock. If such were the mechanism in insistent ideas, obsessions, and impulsions, it would, as I have intimated, explain their insistency, their persisting recurrence, the difficulty in modifying them, notwithstanding the subject realizes their falsity, the point of view often inexplicable to the subject, and the persistence of the affect. There is a constant striving of affective subconscious processes, when stimulated, to carry themselves to fulfilment. Consequently as we know from numerous observations, the feelings and emotions (pleasantness and unpleasantness, exaltation and depression; fear, anger, etc.) pertaining to subconscious processes tend to emerge into consciousness;[171] and likewise ideational constituents of the process often emerge into the fringe of the content of consciousness and even the focus of awareness. Given such a subconsciously functioning setting to an idea, it would necessarily tend by the impulsive force of its emotion to make the latter insistent, and resist the inhibiting control of the personal consciousness.

In the case of C. D., cited in the last lecture, we were led to the conclusion, as the result of analysis, that her insistent phobia might be due to the impulsive force of such subconscious complexes. The whole problem is a very difficult one, dealing as we are with complicated mechanisms and such elusive and fluid factors as conscious and subconscious processes. It is useless, therefore, to attempt to formulate the mechanisms with anything like scientific exactness.

It must be borne in mind, further, that the method of analysis (employed with C. D.), meaning thereby the bringing to light associated memories of past experiences, cannot positively demonstrate that those experiences take part as the causal factor in a present process. It can demonstrate the sequence of mental events, and, therefore, each successive link in a chain of evidence leading to the final act; or it can demonstrate the material out of which we can select with a greater or less degree of probability the factor which, in accordance with a theory—in this case that of subconscious processes—seems most likely to be the causal factor. Thus in the analysis of a bacterial culture we can select the one which seems on various considerations to be the most likely cause of an etiologically undetermined disease, but for actual demonstration we must employ synthetic methods; that is, actually reproduce the disease by inoculation with a bacterium. So with psychological processes synthetic methods are required for positive demonstration.

We have _available synthetic methods in hypnotic procedures_. These give, it seems to me, positive results of value. If a subject is hypnotized and in this state a complex is formed, it will be found that this complex will determine, after the subject is awakened, the point of view and therefore the meaning of the central idea when it comes into consciousness, and this though the subject has complete amnesia for the hypnotic experience. In this manner, if the idea is one which previously had a very definite and undesirable meaning which we wish to eradicate, we can organize a complex which shall include that idea and yet give it a very different meaning, provided it is one acceptable to the subject.

To take simple examples, and to begin with a hypothetical case, but one which in practice I have frequently duplicated: A subject is hypnotized and although, in fact, the day is a beautifully fair one we point out that it is really disagreeable because the sunshine is glowing and hot; that such weather means dusty roads, drought, the drying up of the water supply, the withering of the foliage, that the country needs rain, etc. We further assert that this will be the subject’s point of view. In this way we form a cluster of ideas as a setting to the weather which gives it, fair as it is, an entirely different and unpleasant meaning and one which is accepted. The subject is now awakened and has complete amnesia for the hypnotic experience. When attention is directed to the weather it is found that his point of view, for the time being at least, is changed from what it was before being hypnotized. The perception of the clear sky and the sunlight playing upon the ground includes secondary images of heat, of dust, of withered foliage, etc., such as have been previously experienced on disagreeable, hot, dusty days, and some of the associated thoughts with their affects suggested in hypnosis arise in consciousness; perhaps only a few, but, if he continues to think about the weather, perhaps many. Manifestly the new setting formed in hypnosis has been switched into association with the conscious perceptions of the environment and has induced the secondary images and associated thoughts, emotions, and feelings which give meaning. But it is equally manifest, though many elements bubble up, so to speak, from the unconscious setting into consciousness, that most of this setting remains submerged in the unconscious.

In similar fashion I made a subject regard, metaphorically speaking, as a cesspool for sewage a river which was being converted into a beautiful water park by a dam.[172] It is scarcely necessary to cite additional observations.

Manifestly such phenomena belong to the well-known class of so-called “suggested post-hypnotic phenomena.” These we have already seen (solution of problems predetermined actions, &c., Lecture VI) require the postulate of a subconscious process. It is therefore difficult to resist the conclusion that, when the suggested phenomenon is the “meaning” of an idea, this also involves a subconscious process—that a hypnotically organized setting functioning subconsciously ejects the meaning into consciousness. In other words, the unconscious setting is a part of the whole “psychosis” or complex, a factor in the functioning mechanism; it is dynamic and not merely static, and is a functioning part of the “psychic whole” of the given ideas (sign, perception, and meaning). To use the analogy of the clock, the unconscious part of the complex corresponds in a way to the works and determines what shall appear in consciousness. In the case of the ideas of everyday life, and particularly of pathological insistent ideas, unconscious complexes can be shown, by methods of analysis and by interpretation, to be existent and to be settings. We therefore infer that they similarly take part in the functioning process of ideation. But, as I have said, as any idea has many different settings and associated complexes, it is difficult to determine by this method with positiveness which setting or other complex, if any, is _in activity_ and takes part in the process. Hence the different theories that have been offered to explain the precise psychogenesis of insistent ideas.

=Therapeutic application.=—By similar procedures in a very large number of instances, for therapeutic purposes, I have changed the setting, the viewpoint, and the meaning of ideas without any realization on the patient’s part of the reason for this change. This is the goal of psychotherapy, and in my judgment the one fundamental principle common to all technical methods of such treatment, different as these methods appear to be when superficially considered.

It is obvious that in everyday life when by arguments, persuasion, suggestion, punishment, exhortation, or prayer we change the viewpoint of a person, we do so by building up complexes which shall act as settings and give new meanings to his ideas. I may add, if we wish to sway him to carry this new viewpoint to fulfilment through action we introduce into the complex an emotion which by the driving force of its impulses shall carry the ideas to practical fruition. This is the art of the orator in swaying audiences to his views. Shakespeare has given us a classic example in Marc Antony’s speech to the Roman populace.

The practical application to therapeutics of these principles of rearranging the setting of a perception by artificial complex building may be seen from the following actual case, which I have already cited in previous contributions.[173]

I suggest to B. C. A. in hypnosis ideas of well-being, of recovery from her infirmity; I picture a future roseate with hope, stimulate her ambitions with suggestions of duties to be performed, deeds to be accomplished. With all this there goes an emotional tone of exaltation which takes the place of the depression and of the sense of failure previously present. This emotional tone gives increased energy to her organization, revitalizing, as it were, her psycho-physiological processes [and by conflict represses the previously dissociating affect and sentiment]. The whole I weave artfully and designedly into a complex. Whatever neurotic symptoms were previously present I do not allow to enter this complex. Indeed, the complex is such that they are incompatible with it. The headache, nausea, and other bodily discomforts, pure functional disturbances in this instance, are dissociated and cease to torment. After “waking” there is complete amnesia for the complex. Yet it is still organized, for it can be recovered again in hypnosis. It is simply dormant. But the emotional tone still persists after waking, and invades the personal synthesis, which takes on a correspondingly ecstatic tone. The aspect of her environment, her conception of her relation to the world and her past, present, and future mental life have become colored, so to speak, by the new feeling, as if under a new light. But, more than this, new syntheses have been formed with new tones. If we probe deep enough we find that many ideas of the dormant complex have, through association with the environment (_point de repère_), become interwoven with those of the previous personal consciousness and given all a new meaning. A moment ago [her view was that] she was an invalid, incapacitated, exiled from her social and family life, etc. What was there to look forward to? Now: What of that? She is infinitely better; what a tremendous gain; at such a rate of progress in a short time a new life will be open to her, etc.—a radically new point of view. Now, too, she feels buoyant with health and energy, ready to start afresh on her crusade for health and life. Her neurotic symptoms have vanished. Such is the change that she gratefully speaks of it as the work of a wizard. But the mechanism of the transformation is simple enough. The exaltation, artificially suggested in hypnosis, persists, altering the trend of her ideas and giving new energy. The perceptions of her environment, cognition of herself, etc., have entered into new syntheses which the introduction of new _ideas_, new points of view have developed; thus the content of her ideas has taken a definite, precise shape. Whence came these new ideas? They seem to her to have come miraculously, for she has forgotten the hypnotic complex. But forgetting an experience is not equivalent to its not having happened, or to that experience not having been a part of one’s own psychic life. The hypnotic consciousness remains a part of one’s self (as a neurographic complex), however absolutely we have lost awareness of it. Its experiences become fixed, though dormant, just as do the experiences of our personal conscious life. The mechanism is the same.

The following letter from this patient, received by chance after these paragraphs were written, well expresses the psychological conditions following hypnotic suggestion:

“Something has happened to me—I have a new point of view. I don’t know
what has changed me so all at once, but it is as if scales had fallen
from my eyes; I see things differently. That affair at L—— was nothing
to be ashamed of, Dr. Prince. I showed none of the common sense which
I really possess; I regret it bitterly; but I was not myself, and even
as [it was] I did nothing to be ashamed of—quite the contrary,
indeed.... Anyway, for some reason—I don’t know why, but perhaps you
do—I have regained my own self-respect and find to my amazement that I
need never have lost it. You know what I was a year ago—you know what
I am now—not much to be proud of, perhaps; but I am the work of your
hands, and a great improvement on [my poor old self]. I owe you what
is worth far more than life itself ... namely, the _desire_ to live.
You have given me life and you have given me something to fill it with
... I feel more like myself than for a long time. I am ‘my own man
again,’ so to say, and if you keep me and help me a little longer I
shall be well.”

In interpreting the phenomena it must be remembered that in such suggestive experiments the subject after waking has complete amnesia for the whole hypnotic experience, for all the ideas which were organized into the complex to form the setting. And yet this viewpoint, in spite of this amnesia, is that which was suggested, and he does not know why his view has changed. That a large fraction of the hypnotic complex (or setting) remains submerged in the unconscious can be readily shown. The only question is whether it becomes an active subconscious process out of which certain elements emerge as meaning into consciousness.

=The setting in obsessions.=—This question of the functioning of unconscious complexes as subconscious processes is of fundamental importance for psychology, whether normal or abnormal, and if well established gives an entirely new aspect to its problems. We cannot therefore be too exacting in demanding proof for the postulation of subconscious processes as part of the mechanisms we are considering, or, at least, requiring sufficient evidence to justify them as a _reasonable theory_. If assumed as an hypothesis many otherwise obscure phenomena become intelligible by one or other theory making use of them.

Let us examine for a moment the obsessions as one of the most important problems with which abnormal psychology has to deal, and which offer themselves as exaggerated examples of ideas with insistent meanings. The phenomena are psychological and physical. They occur in a sporadic form, as well as in a recurring obsessional form. Let us consider them simply as phenomena irrespective of recurrence. They may be arranged by gradations in types in which they appear:

A, as purely physical disturbances;

B, as physical disturbances plus conscious emotion;

C, as physical disturbances plus conscious emotion plus a specific idea of the object of the emotion, but _without_ logical meaning;

D, as physical disturbances plus emotion plus idea plus meaning.

In the first type the physical phenomena (such as commonly attend emotion) can be traced to a functioning subconscious emotional complex of which the phenomena are physical manifestations; in the second to a functioning subconscious complex ejecting its emotion into consciousness. In the third we find by analysis an associated unconscious complex (setting), which logically would account for the emotion of the obsessing idea, and infer, by analogy with A and B, that it is a dynamic factor in the psychosis. In the fourth we find a similar complex, which logically would account for all the physical and conscious phenomena.

_Type A_: The following observation may be cited as an example. At the conclusion of some experiments, made on one subject in the presence of another patient and while conversing socially at afternoon tea, I noticed that the subject manifested marked tremor of the hands to such an extent that the cup in her hand shook and rattled in its saucer. She herself commented on the fact, and laughingly remarked that she did not know what was the matter with her; at times she would “get awfully hot all over and would break out in perspiration.” She could give no explanation of this phenomenon which had not been present before the experiments were begun. The subject was now put into deep hypnosis, in a state in which communication was obtained only by writing, and thereby the subconscious tapped. Without going into all the details, the sum and substance of the information obtained in this hypnotic state was this: coconscious images (pictures), of which she was not consciously aware, kept coming and going; these were the coconscious phenomena I have previously described (p. 169). When certain images appeared coconsciously the tremor developed, and when others appeared the tremor ceased; when still others appeared there were vasomotor disturbances and perspiration as well as tremor.

The images as I interpret them were the secondary images belonging to subconscious ideas or processes.[174] To understand the conditions in this instance it will be necessary to explain certain antecedent facts. I had arranged to make certain hypnotic and other experiments on two patients in the presence of each other. The one in question, the subject of this observation, hesitated to have them made on herself in the presence of a second person, fearing lest the various subconscious phenomena which she exhibited would be regarded as stigmata and she be thought “queer.” Each, of course, wished to see the experiments on the other. The subject in question had for a long time been rather obsessed with the insistent foolish idea that if people knew she manifested these phenomena they would not care to know her socially. It was a point of view which had been more or less obstinately maintained in spite of all contradictory arguments. The idea had specifically recurred from time to time in particular situations, and had caused considerable emotional disturbance. If not a true obsession it was close to one. Nevertheless she wanted to take part both for the object of seeing the experiments and also of meeting the second patient. Still there were anxious doubts and scruples in her mind arising from her desire, on the one hand, and a fear, on the other, that it was a social mistake to do so. This had been going on during several days and had been even the subject of correspondence, discussions, etc. It was only at the last moment that she could screw up her courage to take part in the experiments.

Finally the experiments were made, with the result as above stated. Now the coconscious images which were accompanied by the tremors, etc., were pictures of herself, of the second patient, and of myself. These images coming and going seemed, as in a pantomime, to symbolize her previous thoughts. Sometimes the image of the second patient turned away from the subject, sometimes the three images were present, but the one of the subject stood apart from the others as if an outcast, and in both these latter cases particularly she would shake with tremor, and would “get awfully hot all over,” and break out in perspiration. Then apparently reassuring pictures would come and the tremor would cease.

Besides these coconscious images there was a train of coconscious thought of which she was not personally aware. There was the thought that perhaps, after all, it was a mistake to have taken part in the experiments, as X, the second patient, was not a physician, and her wish to see the subject hypnotized must have been largely curiosity. Of this train of thought the subject was not aware. _At the same time_ concurrently there was in her personal consciousness the “thought that she liked X, that it was very good of her to have come, and awfully kind of you to take your time to conduct the experiments.” There was also a conscious emotion of pleasure and something akin to hope, and nervousness at the situation. By contrast coconsciously there was a greater feeling of nervousness and the _emotion of fear_ of which she was not consciously aware. By a few appropriate suggestions all these phenomena were made to disappear.

It would take us too long and be too much of a digression to go more deeply into these subconscious phenomena. From what has been given, which is corroborated by a large number of observations of the same sort, it seems to me we are justified in concluding that the physical manifestations of emotion (tremor, etc.) in the instance were determined by subconscious processes which were the _functioning residua of antecedent thoughts with their emotions_.

But more than this these antecedent thoughts were obsessing ideas of self-abasement, i.e., of herself as a person who socially was stamped with a stigma and, therefore, as a sort of outcast. These thoughts had formed one setting to the actual situation in which she found herself. The subconscious complex, therefore, contained a perception plus the meaning of the situation plus emotion; in other words, the whole of the psychosis including the affect was subconscious in that none of its elements emerged into consciousness. Another and rival perception of the situation was that which was actually in consciousness and which has been described. The physical phenomena were the manifestation of the subconscious affect and would have been equally manifested if the affect had become conscious. In such a case, then, we may say the whole of one setting actually functions subconsciously.

The case of H. O. is the same in principle as I interpret it, but is distinguished by the fact that the dissociation of processes was not so extreme. The obsessing idea was in the ultramarginal zone of consciousness and, to this extent, subconscious. Briefly stated, H. O. for many years was the victim of an intense obsession, in consequence of which she had practically foregone social life, and found herself unable to travel for fear she would be afflicted with her psychosis in trains, etc. The physical symptom was intense nausea suddenly arising as an attack. When attacked with this there developed also depression and a mental state which is perhaps best described as a mood. She could give no explanation of the attacks. On examination it developed that always in the “background of her mind,” just preceding the attack, there came the idea of disgust of self. At once the nausea as the physical expression of disgust was experienced. The disgust-idea was always excited by some associated stimulus. The meaning of this “sentiment” was set in a large complex of past experiences. Into all this I will not go. The point is that the only conscious elements of her obsession were in the extreme fringe of consciousness, sufficiently dissociated to be practically coconscious,[175] but the _physical symptoms_ were distressingly prominent. _Relief was easily effected simply by organizing a new complex giving a new point of view of self._

Complexes consisting entirely of the physiological manifestations of emotion without conscious emotion undoubtedly occur. A long time ago I described such a neurosis under the name of Fear Neurosis[176] in distinction from psychosis. The symptom complex was interpreted as a persisting automatism derived from antecedent fear states that had been outgrown. From our present standpoint and fuller knowledge we must believe that underlying this automatism is probably an unconscious complex of these antecedent experiences including the fear which takes part in the functioning mechanism. It may be called, then, a subconscious psychosis.

True _hysterical laughter and crying_ are undoubtedly phenomena of this type and due to the same mechanism. These phenomena are well known to be purely automatic; that is to say, they are emotional manifestations unaccompanied in consciousness by thoughts or even by emotions corresponding to them. The subject laughs or cries without knowing why and without even feeling merry or sad. I forbear to digress sufficiently to present the evidence for the interpretation that the phenomena are due to subconscious processes of the kind just described. Let me merely say that in one instance, N. O., intensely studied, the automatic crying was traced by experimental and clinical methods to a persisting and often insistent subconscious childhood’s perception and meaning of self—as a lonely, unhappy child. This perception, etc., could be differentiated from the conscious perception belonging to adult age.

Numerous observations of emotional phenomena similar in principle have been recorded in the case of Miss B.[177] These observations included automatic facial expressions of pleasure, anger, and fear. These expressions could always be traced to subconscious processes and in this case to actual ideas of a coconscious personality. But the principle is the same. _Sometimes the affect linked to the process welled up into consciousness and sometimes it did not._ When, in the case of Miss B., the automatic phenomena were determined by coconscious ideas it was because the perceptions of the secondary subconscious personality had a humorous, angry, or fear setting, as the case might be. These particular observations are of especial interest because they allow us to clearly distinguish _at almost one and the same moment the different manifestations corresponding to the different settings with which the same idea may be clustered_. While, for instance, the personal consciousness of Miss B. perceived a person or situation with apprehension and manifested this apprehension in her facial expression as well as verbally, the subconscious perception of the same person or situation was one of joy which broke through Miss B.’s apprehensive feature in automatic smiles. In other words, two different perceptions (with opposite meanings) of one and the same object functioned at the same time.

These observations, as interpreted, are of wider significance in that they allow us to understand the mechanism of many phenomena of everyday life. For instance, the _hysteria of crowds_ may be explained on the same principle; likewise the outbreak of emotional physical manifestations in a person whose attention is absorbed (abstraction and distraction) in reading or hearing something (e. g., at a play), which, it may be inferred, touches some inner emotional experience of his life. In the kind of instance I have in mind introspection fails to reveal the presence of conscious thoughts or sometimes even emotions which adequately explain the physical disturbance. When not abstracted by the reading or play, the same ideas he was attending to a moment before fail to excite these disturbances.

As has been said, “everyone is a little hysterical,” meaning that under certain conditions—particularly those of stress and strain and strong emotion—the mind becomes a bit disintegrated, and unconscious complexes manifest themselves through what are called hysterical symptoms.

_Type B_: In this class the subject is afflicted with attacks of _conscious emotion_, most conspicuously and commonly fear, _plus the same physical disturbances as in type A_, but without any specific idea in consciousness to which the emotion is related. When we examine certain favorable subjects like Miss B., B. C. A., H. O. and O. N., in whom memories of subconscious processes can be obtained by technical procedures, specific coconscious ideas can be demonstrated during the attacks of fear. These ideas are those of fear of some specific object. The emotion pertaining to these ideas _alone_ emerges into consciousness, the subject remaining unaware of the ideas themselves. In the case of Miss B. numerous observations of this kind were recorded.[178] When the obsessing fear constantly recurs it is a so-called “_anxiety neurosis_,”[179] as I interpret the phenomena.

A typically perfect example of anxiety neurosis was the recurring attacks of intense anxiety accompanied by a feeling of suffocation and oppression of the chest experienced by one of my subjects. Investigation disclosed that the first attack immediately followed a dream which was forgotten, but recovered in hypnosis. It appeared that in the dream she was accused by a certain person of certain delinquencies and threatened with exposure. At this point in the dream she was overcome with fear and anguish as in the after attacks. It also appeared that previously she had been and still was apprehensive of this person’s loyalty. By inference and analogy with the well-established after-phenomena of dreams (p. 101), we must assume that the dream process still functioned subconsciously and produced the anxiety attacks.[180]

In this connection it is well to notice that it is a common observation that not only the affect of emotion but that of _feeling_ also may emerge from the subconscious into consciousness and color the attitude of the personal consciousness. This may be demonstrated by hypnotic procedures. When in hypnosis complexes of ideas with strong feeling tones, whether of pleasure or displeasure, of exaltation or depression, are suggested, the subject after awakening experiences these same feeling tones which dominate the personality. The subject then feels pleasantly exalted or unpleasantly depressed, as the case may be, without knowing the reason why. In alternating personalities the same phenomena may sometimes be observed. In the case of Miss B. the feeling tones which dominated the one personality invaded the consciousness of the other personality, often causing considerable distress after the alternation had occurred and although there was amnesia for all that had gone before.[181] Thus BIV complained of the feelings of depression from which BI shortly before had suffered, although her own ideas were far from being of a depressing nature. This depression welled up from the unconscious. It was in consequence of this phenomenon that BIV wrote: “BI’s constant grieving wears on my nerves. It is harder to endure than one would believe possible. I would rather give and take with Sally—a thousand times rather.” Likewise when a subject has feelings of unpleasantness and depression which he cannot explain it is easy in certain subjects to demonstrate the concurrence of coconscious ideas with these feeling tones. The affect in such cases emerges into consciousness, though the subject is unaware of the coconscious ideas. Correspondingly the feelings may be those of pleasantness and exaltation. The demonstration of coconscious processes as the sources of the conscious feelings of course can only be made in subjects in whom memories of coconscious processes can be evoked. In such subjects I have observed the phenomena on almost numberless occasions. But it can be provoked in almost any good hypnotic subject. To awake pleasurable and exalting feelings, to substitute them for their opposite when such are present, belongs to therapeutic art. The skillful therapeutist endeavors to provoke the former by the various procedures at his command. The important principle underlying such procedures is that the feeling tones pertaining to ideas may still invade the personal consciousness after the ideas have become dormant in the unconscious.

This principle, it seems to me, is of far-reaching application. The persistence of the feeling tone in a pleasant or unpleasant mental attitude after the experience giving rise to it has become dormant is _observed in everyday life_ and can be explained on this principle. We have an exalting experience, engage in a spirited game of tennis, watch an exciting football match, or take part in an exhilarating dance. For the remainder of the day or the next day we still experience all the stimulating pleasurable feeling, even though in the cares of our vocation the memories of the previous experiences have remained dormant, not having once been called to mind. The only difference between such experiences of everyday life and those of hypnosis is that in one case we can, if we will, recall the origin of the feeling and in the other we cannot. In both we do not.[182]

Dormant _dream_ complexes may give rise to similar phenomena. In a minor way everyone, probably, has experienced the persistence of the emotional effects of a dream after waking and after the memory of the dream has vanished. More commonly, of course, the dream is remembered, but in the cases of people who do not remember their dreams the phenomenon is precise. B. C. A., for example, does not as a rule remember her dreams, but nevertheless frequently awakes in a state of anxiety or exaltation which has considerable persistency. In hypnosis the dream which gives rise to the emotional state is recovered.

In pathological conditions these post-hypnotic, hysterical, dream, and other phenomena suggest, among other questions, whether in depressive and excited psychoses the affective element is not derived from submerged unconscious complexes. _Melancholias_, for example, may in some cases at least derive their feeling tone from such complexes.

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Footnote 171:

Janet: The Mental States of Hystericals, pp. 289-290. Prince: The
Dissociation, pp. 132-5, 262, 297–8, 324-5, 497.

Footnote 172:

The Unconscious, _Journal Abnormal Psychology_, April-May, 1909.

Footnote 173:

Morton Prince: (Psychotherapeutics; A Symposium. Richard G. Badger,
Boston, 1910.) Also The Unconscious, _Journal of Abnormal Psychology_,
April-May, and June-July, 1909.

Footnote 174:

See p. 178, Lecture VI.

Footnote 175:

Memory of them could only be obtained in abstraction and hypnosis.

Footnote 176:

Fear Neurosis, _Boston Med. and Surg. Journal_, September 28, 1898.

Footnote 177:

The Dissociation, see index, “Subconscious Ideas,” and “Subconscious
Self.”

Footnote 178:

The Dissociation, loc. cit.

Footnote 179:

Ibid., p. 132.

Footnote 180: