factor is lacking, such, for instance, as a brain defect, an organ inferiority, some deficiency or maladjustment of internal secretions, or a pathological blood state. Hyper-sensitive individuals, however, break down under the conflict and develop a neurosis; while still less stable persons may be overwhelmed by the unconscious, and losing their orientation become mentally deranged. There is no conspicuous line of demarcation between these states. They pass insensibly from normal to abnormal, the result differing in degree more than in kind. Questions of physical and psychical inheritance, and questions of social environment all play their part in making up the human being. Whatever factors among the foregoing contribute to the breakdown there will inevitably be found in every neurotic individual a basis of unconscious mental conflict, with a resulting failure in adaptation. All the insoluble problems arise round the unconscious conflict and neurosis is unmistakable evidence of its presence.

The whole object of treatment by psychological analysis is to open up the unconscious mind to the sufferer in such a way that he is enabled to change his relation to it. In addition to the unconscious conflict every case of neurosis also presupposes an introversion of libido, i.e. a turning in of the energizing life current which first over-stimulates the ego feelings, and then regressively animates the phantastic images of the unconscious, giving them a fictitious and even mythical importance.

The analytic treatment does not really consist in getting at a psychical foreign body and letting out psychic pus! There are no foreign bodies in the mind. Everything that is there should be there. It is more a question of bodies in a wrong relation. There are bodies that have been converted into bogies by a process of myth making. There are complexes formed above or below the threshold of consciousness which through dissociation act autonomously. "The past follows us at every instant," says Bergson, "all that we have felt, thought, or willed from our earliest infancy, is there, leaning over the present which is about to join it, pressing against the portals of consciousness that would fain leave it outside." It is the dissociation of the complex that gives it the semblance of a foreign body. It is the unconscious character of the emotion attached to it that gives it its peculiar feeling-tone. The feeling-tone belongs to the phantasies which are associated with the complex. In making these phantasies conscious the way is opened to a new adjustment with reality. It is really rather strange to hear psychotherapists still held by the attractive theory of abreaction which Freud was the first to discard as being far from the root cause of the illness.

Abreaction opens as it were the first portal of the unconscious. It acts effectively up to a point. Certain resistances are broken down, there is a relief of tension as the emotion is gradually transferred from the unconscious of the patient to the physician. There is a sort of 'absolution' involved, a feeling of having submitted to the collective judgment in the person of the physician, who in the capacity of judge and saviour becomes the helper and redeemer of the new life of effort at whose instigation a fresh adaptation is undertaken. Abreaction works in a crisis. It often allows some of the hidden values of the sufferer to come to realisation so that he can once more get on with life. In so far as it succeeds it does so on account of a leading out into the consciousness the sum of energy-libido-formerly occupied with the complex and by restoring the complex itself to conscious control. This in many cases is all that we as physicians are permitted to do, and also in many cases this is all that we need to do. But do not let us be deceived. Abreaction introduces us merely to the ante-room of the unconscious. We have not touched the root causes of the dissociation. The general system of phantasies remains unattacked, and indeed it is through the transference of the father or mother image to the physician that the dynamic force for the alleviation is provided. In this connexion I cannot forbear quoting from the Persian of Jámí, since it shows that the value of abreaction was well understood by the Easterns in the fifteenth century. It is called "The Afflicted Poet."

"A poet paid a visit to a doctor and said: 'Something has become knotted in my heart which makes me uncomfortable; it makes also my limbs wither, and causes the hairs on my body to stand on end.'

"The physician, who was a shrewd man, asked: 'Very likely thou hast not yet recited to any one thy latest verses.' The poet replied: 'Just so.' The doctor continued: "Then recite them.' He complied, was requested to repeat them, and again to rehearse them for a third time.

"After he had done so, the doctor said: 'Now arise, for thou art saved. This poetry had become knotted in thy heart, and the dryness of it took effect upon the outside; but as thou hast relieved thy heart, thou art cured.""

The recognition that adaptation to the inner reality is as important in human life as adaptation to the outer reality necessarily has very farreaching results on our methods of analysis. The well-being of the individual lies in the adjustment between two sets of equally valid claims. The antagonism between the conscious and unconscious now has the appearance of being a claim for better understanding between the ob

jective necessity and the subjective necessity. It is the injustice done to the one or the other that produces a loss of balance and disharmony in the individual. Dreams and phantasies in their subjective significance are not to be regarded solely as the result of repression but also as 'schemes or plans' which have a meaning for the solution of the problems of the moment. They are corrective and compensatory to the merely external view. Thus regarded, the analogical character of the dream is estimated and the manifest content is credited with an important meaning. The teleological purpose of the dream gives it a moral value, for it has to do not only with our origins but also with our destiny. It is really easy to understand why the Viennese school repudiates analysis that on one side is based on the teleological value of the phantasies. If the unconscious is regarded as the all-round inferior mind, then every demand it makes will be resisted as an intrusion, producing hostile feelings analogous to those innate prejudices seen in class warfare. If, on the other hand, the unconscious is regarded also as the creative mind then we shall allow that it has claims upon our attention, at least as great as those that belong to the world of created things-and that it works constantly for our good as well as for our undoing.

I propose to approach the question of adaptation from the point of view of the psychological types into which men are grouped collectively. That is to say, men are born into a type just as they are born into a family. Latterly in the psychological analysis of my patients I have mentally divided them into two main classes-viz. those who are orientated to the unconscious, and those who are orientated to the conscious. This is actually a different division from the types of introversion and extraversion already described to us by Dr Jung, although it arises out of it. In his further work on types Dr Jung has discriminated four types, dividing them into groups under the four psychological functions of thinking, feeling, intuition, and sensation. Two of these types adapt themselves to life by processes we call rational, viz. the introverted type by thinking, and the extraverted type by feeling. The other two adapt themselves by instinctive and unconscious processes, viz. by intuition and sensation, that is to say by non-rational processes. Dr Jung has been working on the types for several years. He was early aware that the two types he first described included others, and he is about to publish a book dealing with this subject. I have often talked with him on this matter, and also with other analysts, notably Miss Maria Moltzer of Zürich, and Dr Beatrice Hinkle of New York.

What follows, however, belongs to my personal understanding of the

types, and is verified in my personal experience with my patients, and must not be taken definitely as Dr Jung's views. It has become habitual for me to work with the types in the back of my mind, and I have found it so illuminating that I cannot forbear to introduce the subject.

The above names of types are abstract definitions, which are too abstract for reality. The ideal type only exists in pathological states, since an over-accentuated type-development involves such severe repressions as can only occur in neurotic or psychotic forms. Most people have mixed qualities; their main tendency, and their most highly adapted function is indicated in their type-name.

In the introverted or thinking type the preservation of the ego is all important. The ego is the object of the libido; it is the real value, and the flow of libido is centripetal. This type turns naturally to philosophical thinking, and by abstracting the idea from the object gives the chief place to the concept. It appreciates the external object in retiring from it and thinking about it. The thinking is well adapted but the feelings are introverted and repressed and relatively inaccessible. The claims of the object are discounted because they threaten the integrity of the ego. The repressed and unconscious feelings tend to be projected and have a personal character. This type is embarrassed when it is suddenly confronted with a situation wherein thought offers no solution. Examples of statesmen of this type are President Wilson and Mr Asquith. 'Wait and see' is really typical of the introvert's method. It means, wait till I have been able to detach myself from this concrete situation, wait till I have been able to think it out. Sight, for this type, means arriving at the abstract idea-not infrequently too late for use. It gives an appearance of stubbornness to the psychology. The feelings are really too 'tender' (to use Prof. James' word) to bear the strain of close contact with the external object, and are kept out of the business.

In the extraverted type the external world is the object of the libido, the current of interest being centrifugal. They love the world and the people and things that are in the world, from which feelings the ego gains enhancement. This type understands the object by a feeling relation with it. The aim is love rather than power, or the attainment of power through the preservation of the object. The thought function in this type is relatively unconscious, hence the thoughts tend to be projected on to the object. When the thought function is trained it turns naturally to science. This type is embarrassed when it is suddenly confronted with a situation which feeling cannot solve. The late President Roosevelt is an example of this type, also Mr Lloyd George, although the

latter inclines to the intuitive type to be described later. Lloyd George is in a sense very accessible because he goes close up to persons and to the situation in order to feel himself into it. At the same time he lacks the quality of abstract thinking; acting first somewhat impulsively and thinking later, he produces the effect of changeability.

It is interesting to note that the late Furneaux Jordan, F.R.C.S., in a book published in 1886 called Anatomy and Physiology in Character, described two types under the rather unfortunate names of Shrewish and Non-shrewish, names which applied equally to both sexes. It is not difficult to see that they approximate to the extraverted and introverted types respectively, although without any consideration of the compensatory co-function.

In the subconscious types, viz. the intuitive and sensational, the unconscious is the object of the libido. The psychology here is subjective and like the primitive's. The mode of adaptation natural to these types has been rendered of secondary importance in the process of evolution, by the development of rational thought. We give too little credit to-day to intuition for the excellent reason that it has often led us astray. It perceives but does not judge. It is not sense perception which leads to consciousness but intuitive perception which leads to the unconscious. We need a new approach to it through a better understanding, for as Bergson reminds us "although intuition transcends intellect, it is by means of intellect that it has grown beyond the limitations of mere instinct1." The subconscious types react less to the external world than to a subjective image of that world. In these types intuition and sensation bear the same relation to each other that thinking and feeling occupy in the rational types. The strictly intuitive person represses sensation, and the extreme sensationalist intuition; they are co-functions mutually corrective and compensatory.

Artists naturally belong to these types, although not exclusively so. The artist is essentially a medium of the unconscious. His works do not come out of nothing. Where he is not otherwise inhibited he projects his unconscious into creative forms by the use of his symbolic function. In this way we get work of the greatest universal value on the one hand, and on the other of the very smallest merit, and of a very 'personal' kind. In the absence of an expression which can work itself out in art, or some other form, for such persons the unconscious is apt to create compulsions.

Walt Whitman is a pertinent example of a subconscious type at its 1 Ruhe and Paul, Henri Bergson, p. 225.