s, nor called
upon to make a choice between two possible proceedings, nor forced
to do or suffer something difficult or distressing, in fact so long as
we are attending to whatever absorbs our attention and not to our
processes of attending, those processes are replaced in our
awareness by the very facts--for instance the proportions and
relations of lines--resulting from their activity. That these results
should not resemble their cause, that mental elements (as they are
called) should appear and disappear, and also combine into
unaccountable compounds (Browning's "not a third sound, but a
star") according as we attend to them, is indeed the besetting
difficulty of a science carried on by the very processes which it
studies. But it is so because it is one of Psychology's basic facts.
And, so far as we are at present concerned, this difference between
mental processes and their results is the fact upon which
psychological aesthetics are based. And it is not in order to convert
the Man on the Hill to belief in his own acts of shape-perception,
nor even to explain why he was not aware of them, that I am
insisting upon this point. The principle I have been expounding, let
us call it that of the _merging of the perceptive activities of the
subject in the qualities of the object of perception,_ explains another
and quite as important mental process which was going on in that
unsuspecting man.

But before proceeding to that I must make it clearer how that man
stood in the matter of _awareness of himself._ He was, indeed,
aware of himself whenever, during his contemplation of that
landscape, the thought arose, "well, I must be going away, and
perhaps I shan't see this place again"--or some infinitely abbreviated
form, perhaps a mere sketched out gesture of turning away,
accompanied by a slight feeling of _clinging,_ he couldn't for the
life of him say in what part of his body. He was at that moment
acutely aware that he _did not want_ to do something which it was
optional to do. Or, if he acquiesced passively in the necessity of
going away, aware that he _wanted to come back,_ or at all events
wanted to carry off as much as possible of what he had seen. In short
he was aware of himself either making the effort of tearing himself
away, or, if some other person or mere habit, saved him this effort,
he was aware of himself making another effort to impress that
landscape on his memory, and aware of a future self making an
effor