‘... The souvenir, in a word, is only manifested unknown to the person: it disappears when the person has to speak or write in his own name, conscious of what he is doing.’ For Janet this is the sign of mental disaggregation.
The quotations I have just given define sharply Janet’s opinion, and show up his mistake and his contradiction. That which becomes disaggregated is the personality, the personal consciousness. But it does not become resolved into groups smaller than they ought normally to be, since these groups often show themselves to be more comprehensive than the mental compound. It is, therefore, illogical to consider them as a part which has become dissociated from the whole.
I have already had occasion to express my manner of thinking in other writings: nevertheless, perhaps I may be permitted to indicate the direction which psychological interpretation should take in order to avoid an encounter with facts.
The personal consciousness is only one of the modalities of the general consciousness. Clinical observation reveals that, in a great many cases, it has been proved, that the souvenirs stored up in the general consciousness are infinitely more numerous, than those which the personal consciousness has at its free disposition. Myers has expressed these ideas most happily in the following words (‘The Subliminal Consciousness,’ Proceedings, S. P. R., vii. p. 301):—
‘I suggest, then, that the stream of consciousness in which we habitually live is not the only consciousness which exists in connection with our organism. Our habitual or empirical consciousness may consist of a mere selection from a multitude of thoughts and sensations, of which some at least are equally conscious with those that we empirically know. I accord no primacy to my ordinary waking self, except that among my potential selves this one has shown itself the fittest to meet the needs of common life. I hold that it has established no further claim, and that it is perfectly possible that other thoughts, feelings, and memories, either isolated or in continuous connection, may now be actively conscious, as we say, ‘within me’—in some kind of co-ordination with my organism, and forming some part of my total individuality. I conceive it possible that at some future time, and under changed conditions, I may recollect all; I may assume these various personalities under one single consciousness, in which ultimate and complete consciousness the empirical consciousness which at this moment directs my hand may be only one element out of many.’
He appears to me to be nearer the truth than Janet is: I do not know if we shall ever arrive at that complete consciousness which Myers hopes for, but it seems to me probable, that our personal consciousness is only one element of our general consciousness. This latter becomes concrete and definite, but also grows less by becoming personal. The apparent supremacy of the personal consciousness may be only an effect of the circumstances in which we are evolving; if Darwin’s ideas are true, we can understand that the necessities of life may have favoured the development of the active, voluntary, personal consciousness; we can imagine other conditions—which the monastic life sometimes realises—where the active and voluntary phases of the general consciousness may be less evolved than its receptive and passive phases. Therefore, the psychologist finds the study of hagiography teeming with information.
Janet’s disaggregation is but the weakening of the sentiment of the conscious and voluntary personal activity, of what I called the sentiment of the personal participation in intercurrent psychological phenomena. It is no veritable disaggregation; it is a disappearance of one modality of the consciousness, of one of its limited expressions, so to speak. However, I recognise, with Janet, that this mode of expression of the consciousness is the necessary basis of our activity in ordinary life, and that it is legitimate to consider as invalids, those persons in whom it is normally wanting. But the fact itself of its disappearance has more the features of an integration than of a disintegration, since upon an attentive examination, the personal consciousness is revealed as a limitation and a special determination of the general consciousness of which it is, in a way, a dismemberment. If I dared to use metaphysical language, I would say that rational and voluntary activity is in reality a disaggregation; personality is only a contingent and limited manifestation of the being, or rather of individuality. This latter, to use the expression of an eminent philosopher, would be superior to reason itself, and of irrational essence, an idea which contains the first principles of a new philosophy. I make this incursion into metaphysics merely to show how narrow Janet’s theories are, and what different consequences result from such a professional manner of thinking as his is, and from a more general conception of that, of which his manner of thinking only concerns one particular case.
The facts, moreover, condemn Janet’s theory. I have too high an opinion of the distinguished man whose ideas I criticise, but whose works I admire sincerely, not to be convinced that he has only observed undeveloped subjects. What demonstrates this in my eyes is his timid affirmation, that ‘nearly always (I do not say always in order not to prejudice an important question) these mediums are neurotics, when they are not downright hysterics.’ It is difficult to discuss an opinion expressed with so much reserve, and I can only commend him for his circumspection, for my personal observations contradict his. I have seen many mediums: the best were not neurotics in the medical sense of the word. The finest experiments I have made have been with persons appearing to present none of the stigmæ of hysteria. Up to the present Janet seems to have operated with invalids only, and I am not surprised, therefore, that he should assimilate the automatic phenomena of sensitives with those of his hysterical patients. It would be surprising were it otherwise. I am not going to defend spiritistic mediums; they appear to me to present very poor interest—at least in ordinary seances—but my duty is to protest against the generality of the judgment which Janet brings to bear upon automatic phenomena. Those facts, which are worthy of careful observation, differ essentially from those which ordinary hysterics present. They indicate no misère psychologique—quite the contrary, and I will state the reasons why.
The discussion, in order to be clear, must be divided: