psychological question. I state the belief merely in order to show how
probable it is that our conscious life is superposed upon unconscious
conditions.

In conduct itself I believe every one will acknowledge that his
moments of consciousness are like vivid peaks, while the great mass of
his acts--even those with which he is most familiar--occur
unconsciously. When we read a word on the printed page, how much of it
do we consciously observe? Modern teachers of reading often declare
that detailed consciousness is here unnecessary or even injurious.
Better, they say, take the word, not the letter, as the unit of
consciousness. But taking merely the letter, how minutely are we
conscious of its curvatures? Somewhere consciousness must stop,
resting on the support of unconscious experiences. Matthew Arnold has
declared conduct to be three fourths of life. If we mean by conduct
consciously directed action, it is not one fourth. Yet however
fragmentary, it is that which renders all the rest significant.



III

Just above our unconscious mental modifications appear the reflex
actions, or instincts. Here experience is translated into action
before it reaches consciousness; that is, though the actions
accomplish intelligent ends, there is no previous knowledge of the
ends to be accomplished. A flash of light falls on my eye, and the lid
closes. It seems a wise act. The brilliant light is too fierce. It
might damage the delicate organ. Prudently, therefore, I draw the
small curtain until the light has gone, then raise it and resume