are able afterward to describe them with some degree of minuteness. In the former case we perceive, but do not attend. In the latter, we attend, in order to perceive.
Sometimes the sole Occupation.—Attention seems to be at times the sole occupation of the mind for the moment, as when we have heard some sound that attracts our notice, and are listening for its repetition. In this case the other faculties are for the time held in suspense, and we are, as we say, all attention. The posture naturally assumed in such a case is that indicated by the etymology of the word, and may have suggested its use to designate this faculty, viz., attention—ad-tendo—a bending to, a stretching toward, the object of interest.
Analysis of the mental Process in Attention.—If we closely analyze the process of our minds in the exercise of this power, we shall find, I think, that it consists chiefly in this—the arresting and detaining the thoughts, excluding thus the exercise of other forms of mental activity, in consequence of which the mind is left free to direct its whole energy to the one object in view. The process may be compared to the operation of the detent in machinery, which checks the wheels that are in rapid motion, and gives opportunity for any desired change; while it may be compared, as regards the result of its action, to the helm that directs the motion of the ship, now this way, now that, as the helmsman wills.
Objects of Attention.—The objects of attention are of course as various as the objects of thought. Like consciousness, it may confine itself to our own mental states; and, unlike consciousness, it may comprehend also the entire range of objective reality. In the former case it is more commonly designated by the term reflection, in the latter, observation.
Importance of Habits of Attention.—The importance of habits of attention, of the due exercise and development of this faculty of the mind, is too obvious to require special comment. The power of controlling one's own mental activity, of directing it at will into whatever channels the occasion may demand, of excluding for this purpose all other and irrelevant ideas, and concentrating the energies of the mind on the one object of thought before it, is a power of the highest value, an attainment worth any effort, and which, in the different degrees in which it is possessed, goes far to make the difference between one mind and another in the realm of thought and intellectual greatness. While the attention is divided and the mind distracted among a variety of objects, it can apprehend nothing clearly and definitely; the rays are not brought to a focus, and the mental eye, instead of a clear and well-defined image, perceives nothing but a shadowy and confused outline. The mind while in this state acts to little purpose. It is shorn of its strength.
The power of commanding the attention and concentrating the mental energy upon a given object, is, however, a power not easily acquired nor always possessed. The difficulty of the attainment is hardly less than its importance. It can be made only by earnest effort, resolute purpose, diligent culture and training. There must be strength of will to take command of the mental faculties, and make them subservient to its purpose. There must be determination to succeed, and a wise discipline and exercise of the mind with reference to the end in view. This faculty, like every other, requires education in order to its due development.
Whether certain Acts are performed without any Degree of Attention.—It is a question somewhat discussed among philosophers, whether those acts which from habit we have learned to perform with great facility, and, as we say, almost without thinking, are strictly voluntary; whether they do or do not involve an exercise of attention. Every one is aware of the facility acquired by practice in many manual and mechanical operations, as well as in those more properly intellectual. A musician sits at his instrument, scarcely conscious of what he is doing, his attention absorbed, it may be, with some engrossing topic of thought or conversation, while his fingers wander ad libitum among the keys and strike the notes of some familiar tune. Is there in such a case a special act of volition and attention preceding each movement of the fingers as they glide over the keys? And in more rapid playing, even when the attention is in general directed to the act performed, i. e., the execution of the piece, is there still a special act of attention to the production of each note as they follow each other with almost inconceivable rapidity? Dr. Stahl, Dr. Reid and others, especially many able physiologists, have answered this question in the negative, pronouncing the acts in question to be merely automatic and mechanical, and not properly involving any activity of mind. The mind, they would say, forms the general purpose to execute the given piece, but the particular movements and muscular contractions requisite to produce the individual notes, are, for the most part, involuntary, the result of habit, not of special attention or volition.
The opposite View.—On the other hand, Mr. Stewart maintains that all such acts, however easily and rapidly performed, do involve mental activity, some degree of attention, some special volition to produce them, although we may not be able to recollect those volitions afterward. The different steps of the process are, by the association of ideas, so connected, that they present themselves successively to the mind without any effort to recall them, without any hesitation or reflection on our part, and with a rapidity proportioned to our experience. The attention and the volition are instantaneous, and therefore not subsequently recollected. Still, he would say, the fact that we do not recollect them is no proof that we did not exercise them. The musician can, at will, perform the piece so slowly, as to be able to observe and recall the special act of attention to each note, and of volition to produce it. The difference in the two cases lies in the rapidity of the movement, not in the nature of the operation.
Objection to this View.—The only objection to this view, of much weight, is the extreme rapidity of mental action, which this view supposes. An accomplished speaker will pronounce, it is said, from two to four hundred words, or from one to two thousand letters in a minute, and each letter requires a distinct contraction of the muscles, many of them, indeed, several contractions. Shall we suppose then so many thousand acts of attention and volition in a minute?
Reply to this Objection.—To this it may be replied that the very objection carries with it its own answer, since if it be true that the muscles of the body move with such wonderful rapidity, it is surely not incredible that the mind should be at least equally rapid in its movements with the body. To show that both mind and body often do act with great rapidity, Mr. Stewart cites the case of the equilibrist, who balances himself on the slack rope, and at the same time balances a number of rods or balls upon his chin, his position every instant changing, according to the accidental and ever varying motions of the several objects whose equilibrium he is to preserve, which motions he must therefore constantly and closely watch. Now to do this, the closest attention, both of the eye and of the mind, to each of these instantaneous movements, is absolutely necessary, since the movements do not follow each other in any regular order, as do the notes of the musician, and cannot, therefore, by any association of ideas, be linked together, or laid up in the mind.
The Question undecided.—The question is a curious one, and with the arguments on either side, as now presented, I leave it to the reader's individual judgment and decision. Mr. Stewart is doubtless correct as to the rapidity of mental and muscular action. At the same time it seems to me there are actions, whatever may be true in the cases supposed, that are purely automatic and mechanical.
Whether we attend to more than one thing at once.—Analogous to the question already discussed, is the inquiry whether the mind ever attends or can attend to more than one thing at one and the same time; as when I read an author, my attention meanwhile being directed to some other object than the train of thought presented by the page before me, so that at the end of a paragraph or a chapter I find that I have no idea of what I have been reading, and yet I have followed with the eye, and perhaps pronounced aloud, every word and line of the entire passage. To do this must have required some attention. Have I then the power of attending to two things at once? So, when the musician carelessly strikes up a familiar air while engaged in animated conversation, and when the equilibrist balances both his own body upon the rope, and also a number of bodies upon different parts of his body, each movement of each requiring constant and instant attention,
