The differeno›, in this respect, is still more remarkable in the connection of conception with the fine arts, though perhaps this exercise of the power belongs rather to the imagination. A portrait-painter will form so distinct a conception of a countenance that, years afterward, he will represent it correctly on canvas. The same power of forming distinct conceptions is essential to the poet or novelist. No. one can read the descriptions of Sir Walter Scott without being sensible of his high endowment in this respect. Nor was this power limited to the scenes which he himself had witnessed. His description of a summer day in the deserts of Syria could not have been surpassed by the most gifted Bedouin Arab. It was to this power that he owed much of that brilliant conversational eminence, which rendered him the centre of attraction in every circle in which he chose to unbend himself. REFERENCES. Conception-Reid, Essay 1, chap. 1 Formed at will-Reid, Essay 4, chap. 1. Enter into every other act of the mind — Reid, Essay 4, chap. 1. Ingredients derived from other powers-Reid, Essay 4, chap. 1. Analogy between painting and conception - Reid, Essay 4, chap. 1 Conception in general - Stewart, vol. i., chap. 3. Attended with belief- Stewart, vol. i., chap. 3. Stewart, vol. i., chap. 3. Improved by habit-Stewart, vol. i., chap. 3. Conception-Abercrombie, Part 3, sect. 1. Clear or obscure Abercrombie, Part 3, sect. 1. In conception neither truth nor falsehood - Locke, Book 2d, chap. 22. sects. 1-4, 19, 20. Locke, Book 2, ch. 29, sect. 1. Clear or obscure 10 CHAPTER II. CONSCIOUSNESS, ATTENTION, AND REFLECTION. SECTION I.— CONSCIOUSNESS. CONSCIOUSNESS is that condition of the mind in which it is cognizant of its own operations. It is not thinking and feeling, but that condition in which we know that we think or feel. Thought, however, is necessary to consciousness, for unless thought existed, we could not be conscious of it. We may nevertheless suppose a mental act to be performed of which we have no consciousness. In such a case we should have no knowledge of its present existence, and should only know that it had existed by its results. On this subject, however, a considerable diversity of opinion obtains. Sir W. Hamilton and many philosophers of the highest authority believe that consciousness cannot properly be separated from the act to whose existence it testifies, and that to make a distinction between the assertions, "I perceive" and "I am conscious of perception," is impossible. They hold that when we are not conscious of an act, the act is not performed; and that when consciousness does not testify to anything, it is because there is nothing concerning which it can testify. In answer to this, it may be granted that when it is said "I perceive," the meaning is the same as when I say "I am conscious of perceiving." When I say "I perceive," ! d there is involved, by necessity, in this assertion, the evidence of consciousness. The question still returns, Is there a state of mind which involves perception, of which we are not conscious, and which is not expressed by the words "1 am conscious that I perceive"? Let us, then, proceed to examine the facts. A person may be engaged in reading, or in earnest thought, and a clock may strike within a few feet of him without arresting his attention. He will not know that it has struck. Let, now, another person ask him, within a few seconds, if the clock has struck, and he will be conscious of a more or less distinct impression that he has just heard it; and, turning to observe the dial-plate, finds such to have been the fact. What, now, was his state of mind previous to the question? Had there not been a perception of which he was not con scious? While a person But we may take a much stronger case. is reading aloud to another, some train of thought frequently arrests his attention. He, however, continues to read, until his opinion is requested concerning some sentiment of the author. He is unpleasantly startled by the reflection that he has not the remotest conception of what he has been reading about. He remembers perfectly well up to a certain point, but beyond this point he is as ignorant of the book as if he had never seen it. What, then, was the state of his mind while he was reading? He looked upon the page. He must have seen every letter, for he enunciated every word, and observed every pause correctly. No one had a suspicion that he did not cognize the thoughts which he was enunciating to others. Yet, the moment afterwards, he has not the least knowledge either of the words or the ideas. Can we say that there was no perception here? Could a man read a sentence aloud without perceiving the words in which it was written? Yet, so far as we can discover, this state of mind was unattended by consciousness. Another case, of a very striking character, was related to me by the person to whom it refers. A few years since, while in London, I became acquainted with a gentleman who had, for many years, held the responsible office of shorthand writer to the House of Lords. In conversation one day, he mentioned to me the following occurrence. Some time during the last war with France, he was engaged in taking minutes of evidence in a court of inquiry respecting the Walcheren expedition. In this duty he was incessantly engaged from four o'clock in the afternoon until four o'clock the next morning. At two o'clock in the morning he was aroused from a state of unconsciousness by Sir James E., one of the members of the court, who asked him to read the minutes of the evidence of the last witness. It was the testimony of one of the general officers who had described the fortifications of Flushing. My friend, Mr. G., replied, with some embarrassment, "I fear I have not got it all." "Never mind," replied the officer, "begin, and we will help you out." The evidence consisted of two pages of short-hand, and Mr. G read it to the close. He remembered it all perfectly excepting the last four lines, of which he had no recollection whatever. These last lines were, however, written as legibly as the rest, and he read them without difficulty. When he came to the end, he turned to General E., saying, "Si James, that is all I have." That," replied the other, "is all there is; you have the whole of it perfectly." He had reported the evidence with entire accuracy up to the very moment when he was called upon to read, and yet the last four lines had been written, and written in short-hand, so far as he knew, during a period of perfect unconsciousness. The condition of the mind which we term derangement conveys some instruction on this subject. Here, it is not uncommon for the patient to suppose that he is not the person speaking or acting, but some other, and that some other mind than his own is occupying his body and performing the intellectual operations, of which he is conscious. Thus, Pinel mentions the case of a man in France who imagined that he had been sentenced to death and guillotined; but that, after his execution, the judges reversed their decision, and ordered his head to be replaced; the executioner replaced the wrong head, and hence he was ever after thinking the thoughts of another man instead of his own. We have said that consciousness is that condition of the mind in which it becomes cognizant of its own operations; that is, we are cognizant, not only that certain intellectual operations are carried on, but that they are our own. In this case of deranged consciousness, the individual was aware that there were thoughts, desires, remembrances, &c., going on within him, but he could not recognize them as the operations of his own mind. These cases would seem to show that a distinction may fairly be made between consciousness and the faculties to the operation of which it testifies. Yet it would scarcely seem proper to denominate it a faculty; I prefer to call it a condition of the mind. Such being the nature of consciousness, it is of course unnecessary to specify the various kinds of knowledge which we cognize by means of it. If it be the condition necessary to the cognition of our mental operations, then all forms of thought are made known to us through this medium. Hence, as I have before suggested, to say I know, and to say I am conscious of knowing, mean the same thing since the one cannot be true without involving the other. : Consciousness always has respect to the state of the mind itself, and not to anything external. We are not conscious of a tree, but conscious that we perceive the tree. We may be conscious of hearing a sound; we are not conscious of a |