Part 7

Mental experiences formed in states of _alcoholic intoxication_ without delirium may be conserved as dormant complexes. Dr. Isador Coriat,[43] in his studies of _alcoholic amnesia_, was able to restore memories of experiences occurring during the alcoholic state showing that they were still conserved. The person, during the period for which later there is amnesia, may or may not be what is ordinarily called drunk, although under the influence of alcohol. Later, when he comes to himself, he is found to have forgotten the whole alcoholic period—perhaps several days or a week—during which he may have acted with apparently ordinary intelligence, and perhaps have committed criminal acts. By one or another of several technical methods memory of the forgotten period may often be recalled. Dr. C. W. Pilgrim[44] also has reported two cases of this kind in which he succeeded in restoring the memories of the forgotten alcoholic state. I might also recall here the case, cited by Ribot, of the Irish porter who, having lost a package while drunk, got drunk again and remembered where he had left it.

Of course, in order to demonstrate the conservation of forgotten experiences it is necessary, when abstraction is not sufficient, to employ subjects in whom more profound dissociation of consciousness can be produced by one or another of the artificial means described so as to permit of the reproduction of the hidden (conserved) experiences of mental life. Such subjects, however, are sufficiently common. Often the passive state of abstraction after some practice is sufficient.

Summary

Although in the above résumé of the phenomena of memory I have for the most part made use of personal observations, these, so far as the phenomena themselves are concerned, are in accord with those of other observers. It would have been easy to have drawn for corroboration upon the writings of Gurney, Janet, Charcot, Breuer, Freud, Sidis, Coriat, and others.

A survey of all the facts which I have outlined in this lecture forces us to ask ourselves the question: To what extent are life’s experiences conserved? Indeed it was to meet this question that I have reviewed so large a variety of forgotten experiences which experiment or observation in individual cases has shown to be conserved. If my aim had been to show simply that an experience, which has been lost beyond all possible voluntary recall, may still be within the power of reproduction when special devices adapted to the purpose are employed, it would not have been necessary to cover such a wide field of inquiry. To meet the wider question it was necessary to go farther afield and examine a large variety of experiences occurring in multiform conditions of mental life.

After doing this the important principle is forced upon us in strong relief that it matters not in what period of life, or in what state, experiences have occurred, or how long a time has intervened since their occurrence; they may still be conserved. They become dormant, but under favorable conditions they may be awakened and may enter conscious life. We have seen, even by the few examples I have given, that childhood experiences that are supposed to have long been buried in oblivion may be conserved. We have seen that the mental life of artificial and pathological states is subject to the same principle; that the experiences of hypnosis, trance states, deliria, intoxication, dissociated personality—though there may be absolute amnesia in the normal waking state for them—may still be capable of reproduction as memory. Yet of the vast number of mental experiences which we have during the course of our lives we can voluntarily recall but a fractional part. What proportion of the others is conserved is difficult, if not impossible, to determine. The difficulty is largely a practical one due to the inadequacy of our technical methods of investigation. In the first place, our technic is only applicable to a limited number of persons. In the second place, it is obvious that when an episode—occurring in the course of everyday life—is forgotten, but is recovered under one or another of the conditions I have described, it is only in a minority of instances that circumstances will permit confirmation of this evidence by collateral and independent testimony. Still, if we take the evidence as a whole its cumulative force is such as to compel the conviction that a vast number of experiences, more than we can possibly voluntarily recall, are conserved, and that it is impossible to affirm that any given experience may not persist in a dormant state. It is impossible to say what experiences of our daily life have failed to be conserved and what are awaiting only a favorable condition of reproduction to be stimulated into activity as memory. Even if they cannot be reproduced by voluntary effort, or by some one particular device, they may be by another and, if all devices fail, they may be recovered in pathological conditions like delirium, trance, spontaneous hallucinations, etc., or in normal dissociated states like dreams. The inability to recall an experience is no evidence whatever that it is not conserved. Indeed, even when the special methods and moments fail it is still not always possible to say that it is not conserved.

It would be a gross exaggeration to say, on the basis of the evidence at our disposal, that all life’s experiences persist as potential memories, or even that this is true of the greater number. It is, however, undoubtedly true that of the great mass of experiences which have passed out of all voluntary recollection, an almost incredible, even if relatively small, number still lie dormant, and, under favoring conditions, many can be brought within the field of conscious memory. The significance of this fact will become apparent to us later after we have studied the nature of conservation. Still more significant, particularly for abnormal psychology, is the fact we have brought out by our technical methods of investigation; namely, that almost any conserved experience under certain conditions can function as a subconscious memory and become translated into, i.e., produce sensory and motor automatic phenomena, such as hallucinations, writing, speech, etc. It will not be surprising if we shall find that various other disturbances of mind and body are produced by such subconscious processes.

Two striking facts brought out by some of these investigations are the minuteness of the details with which forgotten experiences may be conserved and the long periods of time during which conservation may persist. Thus, as we have seen, experiences dating back to early childhood may be shown to be preserved in extremely minute detail though the individual has long forgotten them. Furthermore, it has been shown that even remembered experiences may be conserved in far more elaborate detail than would appear from so much of the experience as can be voluntarily recalled. Probably our voluntary memory is not absolutely perfect for any experience in all its details but the details that are conserved often far exceed those that can be recalled.

In the survey of life’s experiences which we have studied we have, for the most part, considered those which have had objective relation and have been subject to confirmation by collateral testimony. But we should not overlook the fact that among mental experiences are those of the inner as well as outer life. To the former belong the hopes and aspirations, the regrets, the fears, the doubts, the self-communings and wrestlings with self, the wishes, the loves, the hates, all that we are not willing to give out to the world, and all that we would forget and would strive not to admit to ourselves. All this inner life belongs to our experience and is subject to the same law of conservation.

Finally, it should be said that much of what is not ordinarily regarded as memory is made up of conserved experiences. A large part of every mental content is memory the source of which is forgotten. Just as our vocabulary is memory, though we do not remember how and where it was acquired, so our judgments, beliefs, and opinions are in large part made up of past experiences which are forgotten but which have left their traces as integral parts of concepts ingrained in our personalities.

Footnote 27:

For a full account of this experiment, see An Experimental Study of Visions, _Brain_, Winter Number, 1898; The Dissociation, pp. 81, 82.

Footnote 28:

The Dissociation, p. 77.

Footnote 29:

For numerous observations of this kind, see Pierre Janet: The Mental States of Hystericals.

Footnote 30:

The Mechanism and Interpretation of Dreams, loc. cit.

Footnote 31:

Loc. cit. See p. 51.

Footnote 32:

See Lecture VI, p. 185.

Footnote 33:

Gurney was among the first to demonstrate the induction of several states in the same subject. He was able to obtain three different hypnotic states (Proceedings S. P. R., Vol. IV, p. 515), and Mrs. Sidgwick and Miss Johnson eight in one individual, each with amnesia for the other. Janet, of course, demonstrated the same phenomena. In the cases of Miss B. and B. C. A. I obtained a large number of such states.

Footnote 34:

Morton Prince: The Dissociation, p. 55; also An Experimental Study of Visions, _Brain_, Winter Number, 1898.

Footnote 35:

Some of the Revelations of Hypnotism, _Boston Medical and Surgical Journal_, May 22, 1890.

Footnote 36:

Studien über Hysterie.

Footnote 37:

Of course I am not discussing here the genetic mechanism of the amnesia, being concerned only with the principle of conservation.

Footnote 38:

The Dissociation, pp. 284-5, 456-9.

Footnote 39:

Boris Sidis: The Psychology of Suggestion, p. 224; see also Multiple Personality, p. 143.

Footnote 40:

_The Journal of Abnormal Psychology_, Vol. II, p. 93.

Footnote 41:

The Dissociation, pp. 220, 221, 255, 531, 532.

Footnote 42:

The Dissociation, p. 83.

Footnote 43:

_The Journal of Abnormal Psychology_, Vol. I, No. 3.

Footnote 44:

_American Journal of Insanity_, July, 1910.

LECTURE IV CONSERVATION A RESIDUUM OF EXPERIENCES

A consideration of all the facts of observation and experiment of the kind which I have recited in the last two lectures—and I might have multiplied them many times—forces us to the conclusion that whether or not we can recall any given experience it may be still conserved. Bear in mind that I have used conservation, thus far, only in the sense that under favoring changes in the moment’s consciousness, or by special methods of stimulation, a past experience may reproduce itself, or may be made to reproduce itself, in one form or another of memory.

It may be, for example, that you have to-day only a vague and general recollection of the last lecture and if you should endeavor to write an account of it from memory the result would be but a fragmentary report. And yet it is quite possible that, if one or another of the various technical methods I have described could be applied to some one of you, we should be able to recover quite exact memories, of certain portions at least, of the lecture—perhaps _verbatim_ transcripts of certain portions, and large numbers of facts which are quite beyond your present recollection.

Our study of those phenomena of memory which I cited in the last lecture was carried only so far as to allow us to draw the conclusions as to conservation which I have just stated. And, in drawing these conclusions, let me repeat—we have provisionally limited the meaning of the term conservation simply to the potential ability to reproduce experiences, with or without recollection, either in their original form, or translated into a graphic, visual, or auditory expression of them. We have not attempted from these phenomena to draw conclusions as to the nature of conservation, or as to whether it is anything apart from reproduction under favorable conditions. If we do not look below the surface of the phenomena it might be held that memory is only a recurrent phase of consciousness, and that the term conservation is only a figure of speech to express the ability to determine that recurrence in our self-consciousness.

Let us examine now a little more closely some of the phenomena we have already examined but inadequately.

=Residual processes underlying automatic motor phenomena: writing, speech, gestures, etc.=—We will take writing as a type and the following as an example: In a state of hypnosis a subject learns a verse by heart. It is then suggested that this verse shall be written automatically after he has been awakened. (By arranging the conditions of the experiment in this way we make certain that the script afterwards written shall express a memory and not a fabrication.) After the subject returns to the normal waking state he has complete amnesia for the whole hypnotic state and therefore for the verse. Now, if the experiment is successful, his hand writes the given verse without the subject being aware of what his hand is writing, and it may be without being aware that his hand is writing anything at all. The whole thing has been done without participation of his consciousness and without his knowing that any such phenomenon was to occur. (Of course any of his conscious experiences while in the hypnotic state might have been used as a test, these being known to the experimenter as well.) Now the things to be noted are:

1, that the script expresses a memory; that is, reproduces previous _conserved_ conscious ideas—the verse. It expresses memory just exactly as it would express it if it had been consciously and voluntarily written.

2, that these ideas _while in a state of conservation_ and without entering consciousness—i.e., becoming conscious memory—express themselves in written language.

3, that this occurs while the subject has complete amnesia for the conserved ideas and therefore he could not possibly reproduce them as conscious memory.

4, that that which effects the writing is not a recurring phase of the self-consciousness which is concerned at the moment with totally different ideas.

5, that the “state of conservation” is, at least during the writing, a specific state existing and functioning independently and outside of the personal self-consciousness.

6, that in functioning it induces specific processes which make use of the same organized physiological mechanisms which ordinarily are made use of by conscious memory to express itself in writing and that these processes are not in, but independent of, consciousness.

We are forced to conclude therefore that a conscious experience—in this case the ideas of the verse—is conserved through the medium of some kind of residuum of itself capable of specific functioning and inducing processes which reproduce in the form of written symbols the ideas of the original experience.

We need not consider for the present the nature of the residuum, and its process, whether it is the ideas themselves or something else.

=Residual processes underlying hallucinations.=—We will take the observation of B. C. A. looking into a crystal and reading some printed words—a cablegram—which she had previously unconsciously overheard.[45] The words were, let us say, “Best Wishes and a Happy New Year.” This visual picture was not a literal reproduction of the original experience, which was a subconscious _auditory_ experience of the same words, of which she was not aware; but plainly, nevertheless, the visual picture must have been determined somehow by the auditory experience. Equally plainly the visual image was not a recurrent phase of the consciousness, for the words of the message had not been previously _seen_. What occurred was this: the antecedent auditory perception manifested itself in consciousness _after an interval of time_ as a visual hallucination of the words. There was a reproduction of the original experience but not in its original form. It had undergone a _secondary alteration_ by which the visual perception replaced the auditory perception. As a memory it was a conversion or _translation_ of an auditory experience into terms of another sense. Now the conversion must have been effected by some mechanism outside of consciousness; that is to say, it was not an ordinary visualization, i.e., intensely vivid secondary images pertaining to a _conscious_ memory, as when one thinks of the morning’s breakfast table and visualizes it; for there was no conscious memory of the words, or knowledge that there ever had been such an experience. The visualization therefore must have been induced by something not in the content of consciousness,—something we have called a secondary process, of which the individual is unaware.

We can conceive of the phenomenon originating in either one of two possible modes. Either the hallucination was a newly fabricated conscious experience; or it was a reproduction of secondary visual images originally belonging to the auditory perception at the time of its occurrence and now thrust into consciousness in an intensely vivid form. In either case, for this to have taken place something must have been left by the original experience and conserved apart from and independent of the content of the personal consciousness at any and all moments—something capable of functioning after an interval of time as a secondary process _outside of the personal consciousness_. The only intelligible explanation of the phenomenon is that the original auditory impression persisted, somehow and somewhere, in a form capable of conservation as a specific and independent residuum during all subsequent changes in the content of consciousness. This residuum either fabricated the hallucination or thrust its secondary images into consciousness to become the hallucination.

The phenomenon by itself does not permit a conclusion as to the nature of the residuum, whether it is psychological or neural; i.e., whether an auditory perception, as perception, still persists subconsciously outside the focus of awareness of consciousness, or whether it has left an alteration of some kind in the neurons. Whatever the inner nature of the conserved experience it _obviously must have a very specific and independent existence, somehow and somewhere, outside of the awareness of consciousness, and one capable of secondary functioning in a way that can reproduce the original experience in terms of another sense. In other words, conservation must be in the form of some kind of residuum, psychological or neural_. It must be, therefore, something very different from reproduction or a recurrent phase of consciousness. Further, it must form a stage in the process of memory of which reproduction is the final result.

This observation of course does not stand alone. I have cited a number of observations and might cite many more in which the same phenomenon of transformation or conversion of sensory images of one sense into images of another sense was prominent. Indeed a study of hallucinations, artificial or spontaneous, which are representations of former experiences and where the determining factors can be ascertained, will show that in most, if not all, of them this same _mechanism of conversion_ is at work. Take, for instance, the experiment cited in our last lecture, the one in which Miss B. was directed to look into a crystal for the purpose of discovering the whereabouts of some money she had lost without being aware of the fact. In the crystal she sees a vision of herself walking along a particular street in Boston absorbed in thought. She sees herself in a moment of absent-mindedness take some banknotes out of her pocket, tear them up, and throw them into the street.

Now this artificial hallucination was, as we have seen, a picture of an actual occurrence for which there was amnesia. It must, therefore, have been determined by that experience. The psychological phenomena manifested, however, were really much more complicated than would appear at first sight. An analysis of this vision, which unfolded itself like a cinematograph picture, would show that it was a composite visual representation of several different kinds of experiences—of past perceptions of her body and face, of her conscious knowledge of her relation to the environment (in the street), of muscular movements, and of her knowledge derived from subconscious tactile impressions of the act. Of these last she was not aware at the time of their occurrence. Much of this knowledge must have persisted as a residuum of the original experience and functioned subconsciously. Thereby, perhaps, the original secondary visual images were reproduced and emerged into consciousness as the hallucination or pictorial memory.

Similar phenomena indicative of conservation being effected by means of a residuum of the original experience may be produced experimentally in various ways. For instance, in certain hysterics with anesthesia if you prick a number of times a part of the body—say the hand—in which all tactile sensation has been lost, and later direct the subject to look into a crystal, he will see a number, perhaps written on a hand. This number, let us say five, will correctly designate the number of times the hand was pricked. Now, because of the loss of sensibility, the subject was unaware of the pin-pricks. Nevertheless, of course, they were recorded subconsciously, coconsciously). Their subsequent transformation into a visual hallucination not only shows that they were conserved, but that they left something which was capable of taking part, outside of consciousness, in a secondary process which gave rise to the hallucination.

An examination of all crystal visions, so far as they are translated memories of actual experiences, will show this same evidence for a conserved residuum.

That _conservation is not merely a figure of speech_ to express the ability to determine the recurrence of a previous experience, but means a specific residuum capable of independent and elaborate functioning, is brought out more conspicuously in those visions which are elaborately fabricated symbolisms of an antecedent experience. In other words, the vision is not a literal recurrence of a previous phase of consciousness, in that the latter has been worked over, so to speak, so as to appear in consciousness in a reconstructed form. Though reconstructed it either still retains its original meaning or is worked out to a completion of its thoughts, or to a fulfilment of the emotional strivings pertaining to them (anxieties, wishes, etc.). These visions, perhaps, more frequently occur spontaneously, often at moments of crises in a person’s life, but also are observed under experimental conditions. Sometimes they answer the doubts, scruples and other problems which have troubled the subject, sometimes they express the imaginary fulfilment of intense longings or of anxieties and dreads which have been entertained, or disturbing thoughts which have pricked the conscience.[46] We are obliged to conclude, in the light of experimental observations of the same class, that such phenomena are determined by the specific residua of antecedent thoughts which must be conserved and function in a specific manner to appear in this metamorphosed form.