V>..^^t GIFT OF tDUC PSYCH. LrBaARY THE Elements of Psychology: A TEXT-BOOK. BY DAVID J. HILL, LL.D., FUKSIDENT of the UNIVERSITT op ROCHESTER, AND AU-J^OR OP BILL\ RHETORICAL SERIES. WITH ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. NEW YORK ••• CINCINNATI •.• CHICAGO AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY w^^ p?-. tDua LIBRARY PRESIDENT HILL'S TEXT-BOOKS. I. THE ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC AND COMPOSITION. II. THE SCIENCE OF RHETORIC. III. THE ELEMENTS OF LOGIC. > .'•'^ IV. THE ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. copybight By Sheldon & Company. 1888. S3 ^ ^i^^^^ ^i^ J ^i^ ^i^ ^i^ Although the scientific metlioci has been only recently applied to psychological investigation^ it has produced a reconstruction of the sciences relating to the nature of man. It has not been found possible, however, to abandon the special method of self -analysis, or introspection, which alone furnishes the particular kind of facts upon which Psychology is based, — the phenomena of consciousness. By a careful application of this method by many observers, there has been accumulated a body of accepted facts universally admitted as verifiable. It is this consensiis alone that renders any science possible. There was no science of Astronomy, of Botany, or of Geology, until there had been amassed an aggregate of verified and accepted facts to which the mind could apply systematic arrangement and nomenclature. While, therefore, the facts of Psychology are furnished by the individual con- sciousness, and in this sense are subjective and personal, the general consensus renders them fit for scientific use as verified facts and not mere opinions. Although Psychology presents itself as a science, like every other science, it has its unsolved problems and its retinue of theories. It has so lately emerged from the purely speculative stage, that the theoretical element still iv PREFACE. remains conspicuous. Tlie future j^rogress of Psychology will determine which of these theories shall become dominant. The necessity of an appeal to personal con- sciousness both for the facts and their interpretation justifies the citation of personal views and statements to a greater extent than in other departments of knowledge. The text-book now offered to teachers and students has grown uj) in the author's class-room during a period of nearly ten years, and has been gradually adapted to the practical needs of those who could devote to the study only a single term of about three months. Great stress has been laid upon the careful definition of words, a pro- gressive analysis, and the emphasis of the central truths of the science. It is intended that tJie j^ctragraphs jjrinted in the larger type should ie learned for topical recitation and that those printed in the smaller tyjoe should be read with care without close reproduction in the class-room. The leading paragraphs have been readily compre- hended by all the students who have ever attempted to study them. The secondary paragraj^hs are intended to interest the more active minds in acquiring a Avider knowl- edge of the subject by presenting comments, citations, and theories which may lead to reflection and reading. These paragraphs are not essential to the continuity of the text printed in the larger tyjoe. One object in adding them is, to introduce to the notice of students the names of important thinkers and writers of whom they should have some knowledge. These will lead on to still others whose works are to be found only in foreign languages, to which references have been very rarely made because they would be practically useless to the beginner. The dates of the PREFACE. V birth and death of the writers quoted or referred to have been enclosed in parenthetical marks after the first men- tion of the name, except in the case of contemporaries, when only the date of the birth is given. These dates at once answer the question as to when the person lived. They may be learned or used only for reference, according to the preference of the teacher. The book thus serves as an introduction to the history of philosophy as well as to philosophy itself. Special pains have been taken to apply the principles of Psychology to the practical problems of Education^ in the hope that the value of the book might thus be enhanced for those who contemplate teaching and for all who are interested in the development of the psychical powers. It is impossible for a writer on a scientific subject to specify all the sources from which his knowledge has been derived, but every direct quotation in this book is acknowledged by an explicit reference. An examination of these references will show that there are few works of importance in the English language bearing upon the subject to which the author is not indebted. January 1, 1886. O Nlfe NT OR ANALYSIS INTRODUCTION. PAGE !. DEFINITION OF PSYCHOLOGY 1 2. THE SPHERE OF PSYCHOLOGY 2 3. SCIENCES RELATED TO PSYCHOLOGY 2 4. THE RELATION OF PSYCHOLOGY TO EDUCATION 3 5. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL METHOD 4 6. THE VALIDITY OF THE METHOD 5 7. THE PRIMARY AFFIRMATIONS OF THE SOUL 6 (1.) The Affirmation of Existence. (2.) The Affirmation of Co-existence. (3.) The Affirmation of Persistence. 8. THE THREE ELEMENTAL PHENOMENA OF THE SOUL 7 (1.) Knowledge. (2.) Feeling. (3.) Volition. 9. THE THREE ELEMENTAL POWERS OF THE SOUL 8 (1.) Intellect. (2.) Sensibility. (3.) Will. \o. DIVISION OF PSYCHOLOGY 9 PART l.-INTELLECT. I. DEFINITION OF INTELLECT 11 i. DEFINITION OF KNOWLEDGE 12 viii ANALYSIS. PAGE 3. VARIOUS FORMS OF KNOWLEDGE 13 (1.) Presentative Knowledge. (2.) Representative Knowledge. 1 (3.) Elaborative Knowledge. (4.) Constitutive Knowledge. 4. DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT 13 CHAPTER I. PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. TWO FORMS OF PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. SECTION I. SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. y. SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS DEFINED 14 2. HUME'S DENIAL OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 15 3. MILL ON SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 17 4. SPENCER'S DENIAL OF IMMEDIATE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 18 5. THE CONTINUITY OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 19 6. TWO FORMS OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 19 7. ORIGIN OF REFLECTIVE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 20 8. NORMAL FORMS OF REFLECTIVE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 21 (1.) The Philosophical. (2.) The Ethical. 9. ABNORMAL FORMS OF REFLECTIVE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 21 (1.) The Precocious. (2.) The Egoistic. (3.) The Hypochondriacal. 10. THE RELATION OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS TO EDUCATION. 28 SECTION II. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 1. SENSE-PERCEPTION DEFINED 24 2. THE TWO ELEMENTS IN SENSE-PERCEPTION 25 (1.) Perception Proper. (2.) Sensation Proper, ANALYSIS, ix PAGJB 3. THE CONDITIONS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION 20 (1.) The Nervous Organism. (2.) External Excitants. (3.) Actual Excitation. 4. ABNORMAL EXCITATION 30 5. DEFINITION OF A SENSE AND A SENSE-ORGAN 32 6. CLASSIFICATION OF THE SENSES 32 (1.) Muscular Sense. (2.) Organic Sense. (3.) Special Senses. 7. THE SPECIAL SENSES 33 (1.) Touch. (2.) Smell. (3.) Taste. (4.) Hearing. (5.) Sight. 8. THE KNOWLEDGE OBTAINED BY THE SPECIAL SENSES.. 39 (1.) By Touch. (2.) By Smell. (3.) By Taste. (4.) By Hearing. (5.) By Sight. 9. WHAT DO WE PERCEIVE? 41 10. WHAT IS IT THAT PERCEIVES? 42 SECTION III. SENSE-INTERPRETATION. 1. THE DOUBLE CHARACTER OF SENSE-PERCEPTION 44 2. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES 44 (1.) The Order of Development. (2.) The Mode of Development. 3. TWO CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS 47 4. ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS 47 (1.) Of Touch. (2.) Of Smell. (3.) Of Taste. ^ ^ X ANALYSIS. (4.) Of Hearing. page (5.) Of Sight. 5. THE LOCALIZATION OF SENSATIONS 49 (1.) The Intuitional, or Natlvistlc, Theory. (2.) The Empirical, or Genetic, Theory. 6. THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE-PFRCEPTION. . . . , 51 (1.) Produced by the Environment. (2.) Produced by the Organism. (3.) Produced by Expectation. 7. METHODS OF AVOIDING ILLUSION 56 8. PERCEPTS AND OBJECTS 57 9. THE ORGANIZATION OF PERCEPTS 58 io. CONDITIONS OF ORGANIZING PERCEPTS 59 (1.) A sufficient period of time. (2.) A certain Intensity of Impression. (3.) A certain psychical reaction. I.. CHARACTER OF THE COMPLETED PRODUCT 63 12. RELATIONS OF SOUL AND BODY 62 (1.) Monism. (2.) Dualism. 13. SENSE-PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION 65 (1.) The earliest studies. (2.) The method of study. (3.) The Improvement of Sense-perception. CHAPTER II. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. DEFINfTION AND DIVISION OF REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. SECTION I. ASSOCIATION. ;. THE RELATION OF IMPRESSIONS 69 2. THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION 69 3. THE PRIMARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION 73 (1.) The Law of Resemblance. (2.) The Law of Contiguity. (3.) The Law of Contrast. ANALYSIS. XI PAGB 4. THE SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION 74 (1.) The Law of Intensity. (2.) The Law of Repetition. 5. THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION RESOLVED 76 6. THE PLACE OF ASSOCIATION IN REPRESENTATIVE KNOWL- EDGE 79 7. THE RELATION OF ASSOCIATION TO EDUCATION 80 (1.) Associations formed by Others. (2,) Associations fornned by the Learner. SECTION II. PHANTASY. 1. DEFINITION AND NATURE OF PHANTASY 83 J. REPRESENTATIVE IDEAS 85 3. THE MODES OF REPRODUCING IMAGES 87 (1.) Physical Stimulation. (2.) Physiological Stimulation. (3.) Psychical Stimulation. 4. HALLUCINATION 91 5. UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL MODIFICATIONS 92 6. UNCONSCIOUS CEREBRATION 94 7. DREAMS AND REVERIE 95 8. THE OPERATION OF PHANTASY 96 9. THE RELATION OF PHANTASY TO EDUCATION 98 (1.) Phantasy as an Aid to other Powers. (a.) The Training of Phantasy. SECTION III. MEMORY. «. DEFINITION OF MEMORY 102 2. PERFECT AND IMPERFECT MEMORY 103 3. MEMORY OF TIME 104 (1.) Succession. (,2.) Duration. xii ANALYSIS, PAGE 4. VOLUNTARY AND INVOLUNTARY MEMORY 10« 5. AMNESIA, OR LOSS OF MEMORY 107 (1.) From wounds or diseases affecting the brain. (2.) From intoxicants and anaesthetics. (3.) From excessive weariness. (4.) From old age. 6. RELATION OF MEMORY TO THE ORGANISM 109 7. RELATION OF MEMORY TO OTHER POWERS 110 8. RELATION OF MEMORY TO EDUCATION Ill (1.) Acquisition with reference to Recognition. (2.) Practice in Recollection. SECTION IV. IMAGI NATION. 1. DEFINITION OF IMAGINATION 114 2. THE CREATIVE ENERGY OF IMAGINATION 115 3. THE CHARACTER OF IMAGINATIVE ACTIVITY 118 4. THE LIMITATIONS OF IMAGINATION 119 5. VARIETIES OF IMAGINATION ^ 120 (1.) Scientific Imagination. (2.) Artistic Imagination. (3.) Ethical Imagination. 6. EXPECTATION 126 7. USES OF IMAGINATION 127 8. THE DANGERS OF IMAGINATION 128 9. THE CONDITIONS OF IMAGINATIVE ACTIVITY 129 (1.) The presence of Images. (2.) A decided tendency of Mind. (3.) A voluntary activity of Mind. «. RELATION OF IMAGINATION TO EDUCATION 130 (1.) Imagination In Acquisition. (2.) Imagination in Production. (3.) The Training of Imagination, ANALYSIS. xiii CHAPTER 111. ELABORAT(VE KNOWLEDGE. DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. SECTION I, CONCEPTION. PAGE .. USE OF THE WORD "CONCEPTION" 185 2. THE PROCESS OF CONCEPTION 135 (i.) Presentation. (2.) Comparison. (3.) Abstraction. (4.) Generalization. (5.) Denomination. 3. THE COMPLETED CONCEPT I08 (1.) A Concept is not a Percept. (2.) A Concept is not an Image. (3.) A Concept combines similar qualities. (4.) A Concept is purely relative. (5.) A Concept is an incomplete form of Knowledge. 4. THE REALITY OF CONCEPTS 141 5. REALISM 141 (1.) The Extreme Realists. (2.) The Moderate Realists. 6. NOMINALISM 143 7. CONCEPTUALISM 144 8. RELATIONISM 145 9. PERFECT AND IMPERFECT CONCEPTS 14(f .o.THE HYPOSTASiZING OF ABSTRACT IDEAS 147 .1. RELATION OF CONCEPTION TO EDUCATION 14? (1.) Scientific Knowledge. (2.) Linguistic Study. (3.) The Order of Studies. xiv ANALYSIS. SECTION II. JUDGMENT. PAGE 1. DEFINITION OF JUDGMENT 152 i RELATION OF JUDGMENT TO OTHER PROCESSES 153. 3. THE ELEMENTS OF A JUDGMENT 154 4. CLASSIFICATION OF JUDGMENTS 155 (1.) As to Origin. (2.) As to Certainty. (3.) As to Form. (4.) As. to Quantity. (5.) As to Quality. (6.) As to Inclusion. 5. THE CATEGORIES OF JUDGMENT 157 6. THE RELATION OF JUDGMENT TO EDUCATION 159 (1.) Independence of Judgment in the Learner. (2.) The Cultivation of Judgment. SECTION III. REASONING. ,. DEFINITION OF REASONING 161 2. THE ASSUMPTIONS OF ALL REASONING 162 3. INDUCTIVE REASONING 162 4. PROCESSES SUBSIDIARY TO INDUCTION 163 (1.) Observation. (2.) Experiment. (3.) Hypothesis. (4.) Verification. 5. ASSUMPTIONS OF INDUCTIVE INFERENCE 164 6. DEDUCTIVE REASONING 165 7. ORIGIN OF UNIVERSAL JUDGMENTS 165 (i.) The Inductive Theory. (2.) The Hereditary Theory. 8. TWO FORMS OF EXPRESSING DEDUCTION 16? (1.) The Explicit, or Syllogistic. (2.) The Implicit, or Enthymematic, ANALYSIS. XV PAGE 9. SYSTEMATI2ATI0N 168 10. THE RELATION OF REASONING TO EDUCATION 169 (1.) Disciplinary Studies. (2.) The Instrument of Reasoning. (3.) The Limits of Reasoning. CHAPTER IV. CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. SECTION L BEING. t THE REALITY OF BEING 174 2. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE 175 3. TWO KINDS OF BEING 176 (1.) Matter. (2.) Spirit. 4. QUANTITY 179 5. QUALITY 179 6. MODALITY 179 7. NUMBER 179 8. RELATION 180 9. INFINITY 183 SECTION II. CAUSE. '. VARIOUS SENSES OF THE WORD "CAUSE" 185 2. OPINIONS ON THE NATURE OF EFFICIENT CAUSE 185 (1.) Resolution of Cause into Antecedent and Consequent. (2.) Resolution of Cause into Subjective Experience. (3.) Resolution of Cause into a Relation of Concepts. (4.) Resolution of Cause into an Impotency of Mind. (5.) Resolution of the Idea of Cause Into an Intuition. xvi ANALYSIS. PAGE 3. FINAL CAUSE 189 4. THE PRINCIPLE OF FINAL CAUSE 190 5. DISTINCTIONS OF TELEOLOGICAL TERMS 191 (1,) Chance. (2.) Adaptation. (3.) Order. (4.) Correlation. (5.) Convergence. 6. CONDITIONS IMPLIED IN FINAL CAUSE 195 7. THE ULTIMATE CAUSE 198 SECTION III. SPACE. 1. RELATIONS OF CO-EXISTING BODIES 200 2. SPACE, EXTENSION, AND IMMENSITY DISTINGUISHED.... 201 3. SPACE A RELATION, NOT A SUBSTANCE OR AN ATTRIBUTE. 202 4. THE OBJECTIVITY OF SPACE 204 5. REAL AND IDEAL SPACE 205 SECTION IV: TIME. r. RELATIONS OF SUCCESSIVE PHENOMENA 207 2. TIME, DURATION, AND ETERNITY DISTINGUISHED 208 3. TIME A RELATION, NOT A SUBSTANCE OR AN ATTRIBUTE. 208 4. THE OBJECTIVITY OF TIME 209 5. REAL AND IDEAL TIME 209 6. THE RELATION OF SPACE AND TIME TO EACH OTHER... 210 SECTION V. THE DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT. 1. SUMMARY OF RESULTS 213 2. THE STAGES OF KNOWING 215 3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT 215 4. THE PARALLEL DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT AND BRAIN. 216 5. THE INHERITANCE OF INTELLECT 218 ANALYSIS. xvij PART II.— SENSIBILITY. PAGE ). DEFINITION OF SENSIBILITY 221 2. DIFFICULTIES IN TREATING THE PHENOMENA OF SENSI- BILITY 222 (i.) They exist only under certain conditions. (2.) They are exceedingly evanescent. (3.) They readily blend together. 3. A SCIENCE OF SENSIBILITY POSSIBLE 224 4. CHARACTERISTICS OF SENSIBILITY 225 5. THE QUALITY AND QUANTITY OF FEELINGS , 226 6. DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT 226 CHAPTER I. SENSATIONS. CLASSIFICATION OF SENSATIONS. SECTION I. SIMPLE SENTIENCE. .. KINDS OF SIMPLE SENTIENCE 228 (1.) Muscular. (2.) Organic. (3.) Special. 2. CONDITIONS OF SIMPLE SENTIENCE 231 (1.) Internal. (2.) ExternaL 3. CONDITIONS OF PLEASURABLE SENTIENCE 232 4. CONDITIONS OF PAINFUL SENTIENCE 233 5. THE RANGE OF SENSATION 23o 6. THE LAWS OF PLEASURABLE SENSATION 23G (1.) The Law of Variety. (2.) The Law of Harmony. xviii ANALYSIS, PAGB 7. THE ASSOCIATION OF SENSATIONS 237 8. RELATION OF SENSATION TO EDUCATION 238 (i.) Government of the Child through his Sensations. (2.) Governnnent of the Sensations through the Child. SECTION II. APPETITE. 1. APPETITE DISTINGUISHED FROM SIMPLE SENTIENCE.... 240 2. NATURAL APPETITES 241 (1.) Hunger. (2.) Thirst. (3.) Suffocation. (4.) Weariness. (5.) Restlessness. (6.) Sexual Passion. 3. ACQUIRED APPETITES 244 4. INHERITED APPETITES 245 5. THE CONTROL OF APPETITE 246 6. RELATION OF APPETITE TO EDUCATION 247 (1.) Appetite an Impediment to Education. (2.) Appetite and Self-control. CHAPTER II. SENTIMENTS. THE THREE CLASSES OF SENTIMENTS. SECTION I. EMOTION. 1. THE NATURE OF EMOTION 250 2. THE EXPRESSION OF EMOTION 251 3. THE PRODUCTION OF EMOTION 253 4. KINDS OF EMOTION 255 ANALYSIS. xix PAGE 5. EGOISTIC EMOTIONS 255 (1.) Emotions of Joy. (2.) Emotions of Sorrow. (3.) Emotions of Pride. (4.) Emotions of Humility. (5.) Emotions of Hope. (6.) Emotions of Fear. (7.) Emotions of Wonder. (8.) Sympathetic Emotions. 6. /tSTHETIC EMOTIONS 260 (1.) Emotions of the Comical. (2.) Emotions of the Beautiful. (3.) Emotions of the Sublime. (4.) Emotions of the Pathetic. 7. ETHICAL EMOTIONS 268 (1.) Emotions of Approval. (2.) Emotions of Disapproval. 8. RELIGIOUS EMOTIONS 269 (1.) The Emotion of Dependence. (2.) The Emotion of Adoration. 9. RELATIONS OF EMOTION AND KNOWLEDGE...... 271 (1.) Emotion antagonizes present Knowledge. (2.) Emotion stimulates us for future Knowledge. (3.) Emotion affords a bond between forms of past Knowledge. (4.) Emotion furnishes a powerful Impulse to Imagination. (5.) Emotion is the principal cause of Interest. (6.) Emotion is a source of Intellectual Prejudice. 10. RELATION OF EMOTION TO EDUCATION 274 (1.) The Emotive Training of Children. (2.) The Emotive Treatment of the Learner. (3.) The Emotive Influence of the Environment. (4.) The Emotive Influence of Instruction. (5.) The Emotive Effect of Practice. SECTION II. DESIRE. 1. NATURE OF DESIRE 280 2. KINDS OF DESIRE 281 XX ANALYSIS, PAGE 3. THE PERSONAL DESIRES 2»3 (i.) Desire of continued Existence, or Self-preservation. (2.) Desire of Pleasure, or Self-indulgence. ^^3.) Desire of Knowledge, or Curiosity. (4.) Desire of Property, or Acquisitiveness. (5.) Desire of Pov^^er, or Ambition. 4. THE SOCIAL DESIRES 280 (1.) Desire of Companionship, or Sociability. (2.) Desire of Imitation, or Imltativeness. (3.) Desire of Esteem, or Approbativeness. (4.) Desire of Superiority, or Emulation. 5. DESIRE AND WILL 289 6. DESIRE AND EDUCATION 289 (i.) The Educational Use of the Desires. (2.) The Regulation of the Desires. SECTION III. AFFECTION. 1. NATURE OF AFFECTION 293 2. THE CLASSIFICATION OF AFFECTIONS 294 (1.) According to Objects. (2.) According to Quality. (3.) According to Modes of Origin. 3. THE VOLUNTARY ELEMENT IN AFFECTION 295 4. THE PRINCIPAL TYPES OF AFFECTION 290 (1.) Love and Hate. (2.) Gratitude and Ingratitude. (3.) Trust and Suspicion. (4,) Pity and Contempt. 5. THE POLARITY OF AFFECTION 300 6. AFFECTION AND EDUCATION 301 (1.) Inspiration and Influence of the Affections. (2.) Direction and Training of the Affections. SECTION IV. THE DEVELOPMENT OF SENSIBILITY. 1. SUMMARY OF RESULTS 304 2. THE STAGES OF FEELING 305 ANALYSIS. XXI PAGE 3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF SENSIBILITY 305 4. HABITUAL FEELING ,. 30(5 5. HABITUAL EXPRESSION 307 6. THE INHERITANCE OF FEELINGS 308 PART !!!,— WILL. f. DEFINITION OF WILL 309 2. THE STUDY OF WILL PSYCHOLOGICAL 310 3. TWO MODES OF ACTION 310 CHAPTER r. INVOLUNTARY ACTIONS. DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. SECTIO/\/ I. THE MOTOR MECHANISM. 1. STRUCTURE OF THE MOTOR MECHANISM 312 2. KINDS OF MOTOR ACTIVITY 313 3. PHYSICAL CONTROL OF THE MOTOR MECHANISM 315 (t.) Innervation. (2.) Inhibition. 4. THE LIMITATIONS OF THE MOTOR MECHANISM ,. 316 5. THE MOTOR MECHANISM AND EDUCATION 317 SECTION II. INSTINCTIVE ACTION. 1. DEFINITION OF INSTINCTIVE ACTION 318 ?. CHARACTERISTICS OF INSTINCT , 319 (1.) Ignorance of the end. (2.) Absolute fatality. (3.) General uniformity. {4.) Priority to experlonce. xxii ANALYSIS, PAGE 3. INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE 820 4. INSTINCTS IN MAN 321 (1.) Instincts preservative of Self. (2.) instincts preservative of the Species. 5. RELATION OF INSTINCT TO EDUCATION 823 (1.) Instinct may be overruled by Intelligence. (2.) No natural Instinct requires to be destroyed. SECTION III. ACQUIRED ACTION. 1. DEFINITION OF ACQUIRED ACTION 325 2. THE ORIGIN OF HABITS 326 3. THE LAWS OF HABIT 827 (1.) The Law of increasing Automatism. (2.) The Law of destination of Character. 4. CEREBRATION 328 5. HYPNOTIZATION 330 (1.) The Hypnotic State. (2.) The Hypnotic Actions. (3.) The Explanations offered. 6. SOMNAMBULISM 333 7. LANGUAGE 334 8. THE ACQUISITION OF LANGUAGE 336 9. HABIT AND EDUCATION 337 CHAPTER II. VOLUNTARY ACTION. DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. SECTION /. SOLICITATION. 1. DEFINITION OF SOLICITATION 339 2. MOTORS AND MOTIVES DISTINGUISHED 340 %. THE ORIGIN OF MOTIVES.. 342 ANALYSIS, XXIU PAGE 4. THE QUALITIES OF MOTIVES 343 5. THE RELATION OF MOTIVES TO FEELING 344 6. THE CLASSIFICATION OF MOTIVES 344 7. SOLICITATION AND EDUCATION 345 SECTION IL DELIBERATION. 1. THE FIELD OF CONSCIOUSNESS 347 2. ATTENTION 348 3. COMPOUND ATTENTION 349 4. OBJECTS OF DELIBERATION 351 (1.) The end. (2.) The means. (3.) The time. 5. THE PLACE OF JUDGMENT IN DELIBERATION 352 6. SUSPENSION OF ACTION 353 7. DELIBERATION AND EDUCATION 354 (1.) The Cultivation of Thoughtfulness. (2.) The relation of Enlightenment and Punishmtnt. SECTION III. VOLITION. .. THE NATURE OF VOLITION 355 (1.) Volition Is not compulsion. (2.) Volition Is not desire. (3.) Volition Is not motive. i. THE FORMS OF VOLITION 858 (1.) Attention. (2.) Assent. (3.) Choice. (4.) Execution. 8. LIBERTY AND NECESSITY 86J (1.) The Theory of Liberty. (3.) The Theory of Necessity, jiXlY ANA'LYSIS. 4. VOLITION AND EDUCATION 304 (1.) The Presentation of Motives. (2.) The Sphere of Freedom. SECTION IV, THE DEVELOPMENT OF WILL ). SUMMARY OF RESULTS 366 2. THE STAGES OF VOLITION 367 3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF WILL 368 4. HABITUAL VOLITION 369 5. THE INHERITANCE OF WILL 370 6. THE LAW OF VOLUNTARY ACTION 371 7. THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 873 ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. PAGI3 1. DIAGRAM ILLUSTRATING THE GENERAL ARRANGEMENT OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 377 2. A VERTICAL SECTION THROUGH THE CAVITY OF THE SKULL 379 3. A TRANSVERSE SECTION THROUGH THE SPINAL CORD. 379 4. GENERAL VIEW OF THE CEREBRUM 381 5. HORIZONTAL SECTION OF THE CRANIUM AND CERE- BRUM , 881 6. HORIZONTAL SECTION THROUGH THE CEREBRUM 383 7. VERTICAL SECTION OF THE BRAIN, SHOWING ITS LOBES. 383 8. NERVE-CELLS AND NERVE-FIBRES ,... 385 9. VERTICAL SECTION OF A PORTION OF THE SKIN 387 o. LARGER VIEWS OF THE CUTANEOUS PAPILL/E.. 387 11. VERTIC SECTIONAL THROUGH THE RIGHT NASAL FOSSA. 389 12. TASTE-BUDS 389 13. THE EAR, SHOWING EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL POR- TiONS , 391 14. THE RODS OF CORTI 391 15. EYEBALL IN HORIZONTAL SECTION, SHOWING RETINA AND NERVE 393 16. A SECTION THROUGH THE RETINA FROM ITS INNER TO ITS OUTER SURFACE 395 17. LEFT EYEBALL, SEEN FROM ABOVE, SHOWING OPTIC COMMISSURE 397 18. ILLUSTRATING OPTICAL ILLUSION IN PERSPECTIVE.... 397 19. THE MUSCLES OF EMOTIVE EXPRESSION 399 20. THE MUSCLES OF THE MOUTH USED IN EXPRESSION.. 399 21. CUTS SHOWING THE EFFECT OF OBLIQUE LINES IN EXPRESSION 401 62. THE MOTOR MECHANISM 401 23. DIAGRAM OF LANGUAGE ASSOCIATIONS 403 / wr^ODUGTiFsm? 1. Definition of Psychology. Psychology (from tlie Greek ipvxri, psyche, soul, and Xoyog, logos, discourse, or science) is the science of the soul. It is a . science, not a philosophy ; because it pos- .sesses the character of definite and positive knowledge derived from observation, not that of theory and specula- tion. It is the science of the soul, or conscious self, in its completeness, being broader in its scope than what is known as " mental science" or " intellectual philosophy." This definition merely limits, in a rude way, the subject matter of our study, indicating the soul or conscious self, as the subject of our investigation. The nature of the soul, so far as it may be dis- covered, will gradually appear as we proceed with our study. Every such formal definition is inadequate. The term " Psychology " has now come into general use to designate this department of study, having superseded the older and less precise designations. The word "soul" is also now more generally employed than "mind," which more strictly denotes the intellectual, or knowing, power of the soul. The adjective "psychical" has also largely taken the place of the more popular word ' ' mental " in the later and more scientific dis- cussions.^ 2 INTRODUCTION, 2. The Sphere of Psycholo^. In the constitution of man two systems are united: (1) An outer system, to which we refer the sun, moon and stars, the earth and our own visible bodies ; and (2) An inner system, to which we refer our pleasures and pains, our thoughts and desires, and the origin of many of our actions. This inner system furnishes the facts of Psychology. The science, tlierefore, differs from the physical sciences in this, that the leading facts with which it deals lie ojDen to the inspection of consciousness, while those of the physical sciences are apprehended through the organs of sense. Nature has thus provided for all the best facilitiea ioY this study, for its sphere is the inner circle of the con • scions self. We do not here raise any question as to the nature cf the coitf- scious self, or propose any metaphysical distinctions. Metaphysics, in its proper sense, is an inquiry into the ultimate nature and con- stitution of being. It is sometimes also called Ontology, or the science of being. We limit ourselves, for the present, to facts of observation, and, if metaphysical or ontological inferences arise in the progress of our study, it will be only as a logical necessity of the observed facts. 3. Sciences related to Psychology. There are several sciences which are closely related to Psychology, either because of deriving their facts from the nature of man, or because of their supplying partial explanations of psychical phenomena. Biology treats of the general phenomena of life. Physiology deals with the processes and functions of the body, some of which are connected with the production of conscious states. Anatomy INTRODUCTION, 3 treats of the form and structure of the bodily organs. Pathology deals with the conditions of health and disease, some of which affect consciousness. Anthropology is the science of Uie human species, showing that many of the phenomena which we discover in ourselves are common to our kind. A few speculative writers have endeavored to push these sciences into the sphere of Psychology so as to cover its entire territory and make it seem to be superfluous. Some would regard it as a mere province of Biology. There has lately risen a school of Physiological Psychoiogists, who would attempt to explain all the facts of con- scious life by purely physiological causes. Such efforts have been, so far, unsuccessful. Others, principally in Germany, would merge Psychology into Anthropology by founding it mainly on the study and comparison of different races of men, giving prominence to what is known as Ethnological Psychology. Still others would treat Human Psychology as a mere discussion of animal sentience and regard it as a branch of Comparative Psychology, ranking man as a single member of the animal kingdom. The reasons for regard- ing Psychology as an independent science will appear in our subse- quent treatment. 4. The Relation of Psychology to Education. Education aims to fit its subject for the realization of his destiny. It consists of two processes : (1) instruction, which imparts ideas ; and (2) discipline, which develops, expands, and regulates the powers. It is plain, that the educator should know as much as possible of the nature, powers, processes and laws of the soul, for his success is largely dependent upon this knowledge. The study of Psychology, therefore, is essential to a preparation for teaching. The science of education is called Pedagogics, from a Greek word meaning a conductor of children, applied to the attendant who 4 INTRODUCTION. accompanied them to school. Pedagogics is, in reality, little more than applied Psychology. Whoever understands the science of the soul, possesses the fundamental principles of the science of educa- tion. Experience alone can furnish the corresponding art. The theory of teaching begins in Psychology, and it has been a leading id€a in the composition of this text-book to render it serviceable to those who contemplate teaching as a profession. 5. The Psycliological Method. As Psycliologj is the science of the soul itself, the method by which it must be pursued differs from that of other sciences. The physical sciences deal with objective, or external, facts, which can be observed only through the senses. Psychology deals only with subjective, or interior, facts, and hence the senses cannot be employed in observ- ing them. The psychological method consists in the analysis of consciousness, or of the interior knowing self and its states. This method is called introspective (from the Latin Intro, within, and spec&re, to look). In so far as Psychology is a science apart from the sciences that have been named as related to it, it must discover its facts by intro- spection, or internal observation. It may, however, supplement its own results by borrowing from other sources. Its claim to being an independent science must stand or fall with its ability to vindicate its power of adducing facts not otherwise observable. This seems easy, for no method of external investigation can discover the facts of consciousness, and no one can deny that there are such facts. It may derive aid from Physiology, observation of the lower animals, the outward life of children, the phenomena of mental disease, the manners and customs of different races of men, and the study of human languages and institutions, which express the inner life of man. But not one of these interesting data would have any intel- ligible meaning, except as interpreted to our consciousness and ex- plained in terms of our conscious experience. INTRODUCTION, 5 6. The Validity of the Method. The validity of the psychological^ or introspective, method has been called in question by Auguste Comte (1797-1857), a French philosopher, Henry Maudsley (1835- ), an English physiologist, and others of less note. Their main objection is, that, in trying to observe its present state, the conscious self destroys that state by pro- ducing another, if it can even be admitted that the soul can modify its states in any way whatever. These are purely speculative difficulties. It is a simple fact of con- sciousness that the soul does observe its own states. The testimony of consciousness cannot be denied without self-contradiction ; for, he who doubts it either doubts arbitrarily, or else he relies upon consciousness for the affirmation of his doubt. The madman^s delusion only strengthens our faith in the trustworthiness of conscious- ness, for it is because of our belief in its veracity in reporting an abnormal state that we pronounce him in- sane rather than a willful deceiver. Comte's argument against introspection is: "In order to ob- serve, your intellect must pause from activity, yet it is this very activity which you want to observe. If you cannot effect the pause, you cannot observe; if you do effect it, there is nothing to observe."^ Henry Calderwood (1830- ), a Scotch writer and professor, offers the following refutation : " The argument involves neglect of vhe following facts : that intellectual activity implies consciousness ; that attention to its own states is a possibility of mind ; that repeti- tion, in consequence of the same act, leads to increased familiarity with it; that memory admits of the recall of what has previously passed through consciousness. There is, therefore, no necessity for a pause in order to attain knowledge of personal activity." ^ iVlaudsley accepts Comte's argument and adds: "(a) There are but few individuals who are capable of attending to the succession of 6 introduction: phenomena in their own minds; {b) there is no agreement between those who have acquired the power of introspection; (c) as long as you cannot effect the pause necessary for self -contemplation, there can be no observation of the current of activity; if the pause is effected, there is nothing to observe." ^ Even if but a few can use the introspective method, and they do not agree, the point is conceded. As a matter of fact, all tho members of an ordinary class can use it, and they usually agree in their results upon important points. 7. The Priinary Affirmations of the S«iil. The soul begins the analysis of itself with three primary affirmations, in wliicli all agree^, wliicli are not derived from each otlier, but are nniversall}^, necessarily and im- mediately known to every being capable of such analysis. These affirmations are incapable of proof, for all proof is either by induction or deduction, and both these processes are . impossible without these affirmations. They are as follows : (1) The Affirmation of Existence, in which the soul affirms to itself the fact that something is, or has being . This is the discrimination between heing and non-being, or something and nofliing. (2) The Affirmation of Co-existence, in which the soul affirms to itself the fact that something is which is not self, which has being that is not its being. This is the distinction between the Ego and tlie non-Ego, or between 5eZ/*and non-self. (3) The Affirmation of Persistence, in which the soul affirms to itself that some forms of being in existence now were known by it to be in existence before now and are the same. This is the discrimination between stability and change, or permanence and mutability. INTRODUCTION. 7 These affirmations of the soul show its structural capacity for self-knowledge. That which each one of us calls "Self," "I," or " Ego,''' knows being, knows itself as being and other being as not itself, knows itself as having been and as being that which was. Here, again, we wish to avoid metaphysical or ontological inferences. Each student of these doctrines must decide for himself whether or not he necessarily and immediately makes these affirmations as soon as his thought is directed to them. Nothing is here affirmed as to the nature, the origin, or the cause of this self -knowing being, the soul. 8. The Three Elemental Phenomena of the Soul. If we examine the contents of consciousness, we find three different kinds of phenomena which are elemental but enter into composition in our psychical experience : (1) Knowledge is a condition of certitude which the soul discovers in itself whenever objects are presented. Thus, I take this book in my hand and I know that I have it, that it is this book, and that it differs from other surrounding objects. (2) Feeling is a state of the soul different from knowl- edge, not easily described, but readily discriminated. Thus, I touch the book with my finger and, in addition to the knowledge that I touch it, there rises in me what I call ii feeling, distinct from the knowledge. (3) Volition is an act of the soul different from both knowledge and feeling. I lift the book from the table. It is my act. It has originated in me, not in the book or in the table. These elemental phenomena accompany one another, but are not identical, and cannot be resolved into or derived from one another. 8 INTRODUCTION. 9. The Three Elemental Powers of the Soul. To tliese three elemental phenomena of the soul corre- spond three powers, or faculties, which nearly all modern psychologists recognize as different and irreducible. They are : (1) Intellect, or the power of knowing, exercised when we are conscious of a fact or relation as an object of knowledge. (2) Sensibility, or power of feeling, exercised when one feels pain on inflicting a wound or pleasure on hearing agreeable news. (3) Will, or power of self -direction, exercised when one forms a purpose of action and resolves to perform it. These powers are possessed by the same being and are exercised at the same time, so that, notwithstanding its variety of capabilities, we must believe in the unity of the soul. The word " faculty " is derived from the Latin facuUas, from facere, to do, to make, and signifies a power or ability. The Ger- man philosopher, J. F. Herbart (1776-1841), denied the existence of psychical faculties, but has found few followers in this denial. Before the time of the German philosopher, Immanuel Kant (1724- 1804), a two-fold division of faculties prevailed. Aristotle (B.C. 384-322) recognized two faculties, "thought" (vov^) and "desire", (opefif). Thomas Reld (1710-1796), a Scotch metaphysician, andi his immediate followers, treated of the ' ' intellectual powers " and the "active powers." In these schemes, feeling was divided between the knowing and the acting faculties. Since the Scotch philosopher, Sir William Hamilton (1788-1856), who divided the soul into (1) " intellect," (2) "sensibility," and (3) "will," and the phenomena of consciousness into (1) "cognitions," (2) "feelings, "and (3) "cona- tions, " the three-fold division has been almost universal among those who admit separate faculties at all. Even those who put " associa- tion of ideas " in the place of faculties, recognize the three elemental INTRODUCTION. 9 phenomena, knowledge, feeling and volition. Those who make much of evolution in explaining the phenomena of consciousness, as the Scotch psychologist, Alexander Bain (1818- ), and the Eng- lish philosopher, Herbert Spencer (1820- ), attempt to derive knowledge and volition by development from feeling. The idea of the soul's unity is thus expressed by Hermann Ulrici (1806-1884), a German philosopher: "To the individual mutable moments of experience are opposed a continuity and steadfastness of self-consciousness, and by the side of the multifarious, variously shifting contents there comes into play at every moment the con- sciousness of the unity and identity of the Ego ; and this conscious- ness, though it may be dim and undefined, attends every act of our intellectual life. The Ego which now apprehends itself as sentient or percipient, now putting forth effort, willing, etc., knows itself at the same time as one aiid the same, the abiding self. . . . We implicitly contrast ourself as unity with the mutation and manifold- ness of our psychical life." ^ 10. Division of Psychology. In a systematic study of the phenomena and faculties of the soul^ without forgetting the natural unity that combines these, we must follow the example of the anatomists and study the different elements separately. Adopting the generally accepted division of the faculties of the soul, we shall now treat of I, Intellect, II, Sensibility, III. Will, References : (1) For the discussion of these and other terms, see Fleming's Vocabulary of Philosophy, under each word. (2) The Positive Philosophy of Auguste Comte (Martineau's Translation), I., p. 11. (8) Calderwood's Handbook of 3Ioral Philosophy, p. 5. (4) Maudsley's The Physiology of llvnd (American Edition), pp. 16, 17. (5) Fleming's Vocabulary, p. 876. 10 PSYCHOLOGY. ^ 1^ ^ I I. I. I I. I. I I I. I. I. I. I. I. I I I I I I 1. I. I I. I I. I I. ^ ©^ <3^ '^ "S-i <50 "^^ ©^ Go >-i <^ <50 .<|-»4 'M <3-i *-H <^^ Go v^ >^ 1^5 O^ 1-^ <3j Co ^ <0 J« ^i» <» Sto ^ '5i qi tJJ QJ <» ^ ^<5i ^'» ^'iJ Jli J» . ^ , <^ m ^ rt s t' O o 13 c3 g m O c ^ O 1 ! 1— I r^S . . . . c3 CO o3 OS cS ^ I a X6o|Oi{3Xsd PSYCFIOLOOY. PART l.-INTELLECT. 1. Definition of Intellect. Intellect is the faculty of knowing. The word is derived from the Latin inter, between, and legere, to gather, and signifies the power of discrimination, or discernment of resemblances and differences, which the soul makes in its experiences. Knowledge is gathered in the transition from one experience to another in which resemblances or differences appear. An acnte Intellect discerns these sharply, a dull Intellect either imperfectly or not at all. Bain has named as the three fundamental attributes of Intel- lect, (1) Discrimination, or consciousness of difference, (2) Con- sciousness of Agreement, and (3) Retentiveness, or power of retaining impressions.^ James Sully (1842- ), an English psy- chologist, rejects Bain's co-ordination of Retentiveness with Dis- crimination, on the ground that Retentiveness is rather a condition than a form of knowing. He supplies a name for Bain's second function of Intellect, Assimilation. According to Sully's analysis, Intellect has two functions : (1) Discrimination, the knowing of differences ; and (2) Assimilation, the knowing of resemblances. ^ As an example of intellectual action, suppose a person endowed with no organ of sense but an eye. Suppose the eye to be filled with blue light. The person would have a sensation of blue. Now sup- 12 PSYCHOLOGY. pose the blue light to be suddenly removed and a red light substi- tuted. The person v/ould have a sensation of red light. In the transition from the blue to the red, a knowledge of difference would be gathered and also a knowledge of resemblance, the two sensations belonging to the same order, sensations of color. Unusual power of discrimination is known as "sharpness" of Intellect ; unusual power of assimilation, as "breadth" of Intellect, 2. Definition of Knowledge. Knowledge is tliat condition of certitude in the soul that arises when realities or relations are consciously ap- prehended. It is the correlative of being. When perfect, it is identified with truth, which is the correspondence be- tween consciousness and reality. When the conditions of knowledge seem to the Intellect to be fulfilled, the soul accepts the corresponding object of knowledge as really existing. We must distinguish knowledge from feeling, which is merely a sentient condition ; from volition, which is a personal determina- tion ; from doubt, which is the soul's hesitation with regard to a proposition ; and from belief, which is the soul's assent to a proposi- tion without positive knowledge. 3. Various Forms of Knowledge. Our different forms of knowledge are most conveniently classified according to the ways in which they are acquired. (1) Some knowledge is presented immediately to the soul when it attends to what is within or about it, as the soul's knowledge of its own states and the simplest perceptions of the senses. This is called Presentative Knowledge. (2) Such knowledge, at a later time, is brought to con- INTELLECT. 13 sciousness again, either in the old or in new relations, having in some way been reproduced within us. This is called Representative Knowledge. (3) Still other knowledge is given us neither by pres- entation nor by representation, but is the result of our own psychical action itself ; as when a chemist affirms that all acids turn blue litmus paper red, or that there is an acid in a given compound because it turns the paper red. This is called Elaborative Knowledge. (4) Finally, we have a fourth kind of knowledge that is not acquired by any of these modes, but is obtained by stating those postulates, or assumed truths, that underlie and are implied in the whole fabric of our knowledge, and without which all would be without unity, validity, or foundation. This is called Constitutive Knowledge. 4. Division of the Subject. For the sake of a systematic order and because the out- line just given shows the progress of Intellect in its activity, we shall treat of each of these four kinds of knowledge in a separate chapter, as follows : (1) Presentative Knotvledge ; (2) Representative K}ioivledge ; (3) Elaborative Knotvledge ; and (4) Constitutive Knowledge. Heferences : (1) Bain's The Senses and the Intellect, p. 321 (2) SuUy's Outlines of Psychology, pp. 26, 27, CHAPTEH I. PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. TWO FORMS OF PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. Presentative knowledge, or knowledge presented im- mediately to the soul, is of two kinds : (1) that which is presented in Self-consciousness ; and (2) that which is furnished through Sense-perception. SECTION I. SELF-CONSCiOUSNESS. 1. Self-consciousness Defined. Self-consciousness is the soul's knowledge of itself. In every act of knowledge there are three essential elements : (1) the knowing subject or self-conscious Ego; (2) the object of knowledge ; and (3) the states and actions of the soul as alfected by the object of knowledge. The know- ing self may not be prominent in the state of conscious- ness, but is essential to it. The object of knowledge may be either external or internal. The states and actions of the soul as affected by the object of knowledge may them- selves, in turn, become objects of knowledge. All three of these elements are included in what we designate by the word "consciousness,'* '^ Self -consciousness^^ being limited to the souFs knowledge of itself as present in the PKJUSENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 15 field of consciousness. Self-consciousness is the founda- tion of all oui' knowledge, because the soul's testimony to its own experiences is the only evidence of their reality. Consciousness cannot be defined. It is the pre-condition of anj definition whatever. Every attempt to define it, therefore, moves in a circle. It is a fundamental and universal fact of psychical exist- ence. While indefinable, it is known to all, and the word may be used without attempt at definition. Psychological science can study its forms and conditions, but everywhere assumes its existence in the beings of which it treats. To the unconscious, no science is pos- sible. The reality of consciousness has never been denied. Self- consciousness, however, implies the presence in consciousness of a self -known subject, or being that knows itself as being conscious. Every denial of Self-consciousness tends to destroy the foundations of all knowledge; for, if there is no conscious self that knows itself as a present witness to psychical experiences, we are without evidence that these experiences have taken place and the certainty of knowledge is questionable. A great French philosopher, Rene Descartes (1596-165'0), sometimes called the "Father of Modern Psychology," began his philosophizing by doubting every- thing about which he could not be absolutely certain. At last, when he came to the question of his own existence, he reached a point beyond which doubt could not go. " Cogito, ergo sum,^' I tJiink, therefore, I am, seemed to him beyond the possibility of doubt. Thinking does, indeed, seem impossible, unless the being that thinks, is. But I think, therefore, I am. Descartes has put in the form ofi an argument what it would seem more natural to regard as an in- tuition, or truth directly and immediately known without argument and, in reality, necessary to the existence of any argument. This, is, probably, what Descartes really meant, for his argument is that the very idea of thinking implies the existence of a thinker as a pre-condition. 2. Hume's Denial of Self-consciousness. David Hume (1711-1776), the Scotch skeptic, says: *' For my part, when I enter most intimately into what I 16 PSYCHOLOGY. call my self f I always stumble on some particular percep- tion or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hate, pain or pleasure. I can never catch myself at any time without a perception, and never can observe anything but the perception. . . . One may, perhaps, perceive some- thing simple and continued that he calls himself, though I am certain there is no such principle in tuq" ^ In this denial of Self-consciousness, Hume unwittingly admits : (1) that he can enter '''most intimately'^ into what he calls himself; (2) that he always stumbles on some par- ticular perception, thus confessing the continuity of being Avhich he formally denies ; (3) that he is certain, from continued self-inspection, that there is no continued principle in himself. As for his '^ never catching himself ivithout a perception,"' Calderwood very acutely remarks, that, to prove his Self-consciousness, it is sufficient; for him to catch himself ivith one. John Locke (1632-1704), an English philosopher of great celeb- rity, advanced a doctrine of Representative Ideas that seemed to involve a denial of our immediate knowledge of matter. George Berkeley (1684-1753), an Irish metaphysician and the founder of British Idealism, followed up Locke's doctrine and attempted to show that, assuming its truth, as he did, we have no knowledge^ exce][)t of ideas. The whole universe was thus construed as a product of mind and a purely spiritual existence. Hume attacked Berkeley's doctrine by trying to show that, in following out the same principle, we have only an idea of mind as well as only an idea of matter ; that, in short, we know nothing as real and substantial, but only phenomena, or passing appearances. For Hume the soul is nothing but a series of sensations. James Mill (1773-1836), an English philosopher, and his more distinguished son, named in the following paragraph, have embraced and advocated this doctrine of Hume's. It is historically the foundation of modern Agnosticism (from the Greek a, alpha, implying negation, and yvuacg, gnosis, knowledge), or philosophic ignorance. PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 17 3. Mill on Self-consciousness. John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), one of the most noted of recent English philosophers, defines the soul as ''a series of feelings/' "a thread of consciousness/' Although he finds no difficulty in resolving matter into ''the per- manent possibility of sensations/' he admits that, ''If we speak of the mind as a series of feelings, we are obliged to complete the statement by calling it a series of feelings which is aware of itself as past and future ; and we are reduced to the alternative of believing that the mind, or Ego, is something different from any series of feelings, or possibilities of them ; or of accepting the paradox, that something which is ex hypotliesi but a series of feelings, can be aware of itself as a series. "^ He adds: "The theory cannot be expressed in any terms which do not deny its truth." Unless we are willing to found our science on a mental paradox and a verbal contradiction, we cannot follow Hume and Mill in the denial of Self -conscious- ness. The fcllowing paragraph by Borden P. Bowne (184?- ), an American psychologist, seems to be a refutation of Mill's doctrine : " Let a, b, c, and d be respectively a sensation of color, of odor, of taste, and of sound. Plainly no consciousness can be built out of these elements. The color knows nothing of the odor ; the taste knows nothing of the sound. Each is a particular and isolated unit, and must remain so until some common subject, 31, is given, in the unity of whose consciousness these elements may be united. For as long as a, 6, c, etc., are all, there is no common consciousness, and hence no rational consciousness, at all. We conclude, then, that the mental life, both in its elements and in its combinations, must have a subject. It is not only unintelligible, it is impossible, without it." 3 18 PSYCHOLOGY. 4. Spencer's Denial of Immediate Self-consciou»- ness. Hepbert Spencer does not deny Self-consciousness, hni immediate Self -consciousness. Ht iays : ^^Iso one is con- scious of what he is, but of what he was a moment before. ... It is impossible to be at the same time that which regards and that which is regarded. ^^^ This denial of im- mediate self-knowledge proceeds 'from the theoretical ground that there is a contradiction in being at the same time observer and observed. No such impossibility has been proved. If it were, it would result in the same un- certainty of all our knowledge . which Hume^s doctrine involves. One could never say, ^'1 know" but only ^'1 knew.'' But how could one say "/ knew,^' if at the time when he knew he did not know ? Spencer's doctrine involves an absurdity. The simple fact of consciousness is that we know immediately that we know, without an interval of time. Spencer is the leading representative of Modern Agnosticism, and, with such psychological foundations, it would seem difficult for him to be certain of anything. He is, however, more consistent than Mill, for his doctrine involves no denial of the substantial being of, the soul, simply our ignorance of it. Spencer's idea that time must intervene between the existence of a state of consciousness and our knowledge of it as our state, may grow out of conceptions of thought as a physical function, requiring time for transmission. Sense- impressions, as we shall see later on, require time for passing from the sense-organs to the brain, and this time is measurable. It has never been proved, however, that any time intervenes between the production of a state of consciousness and our knowledge of it as ours. Doubtless we are conscious of impressions received by the brain after the brain has received them. This, however, is not the point. We are conscious of self as self is, or not at aU. PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 19 6. The Continuity of Self-consciousness. Different opinions liave been held concerning the con- tinuity or periodicity of Self -consciousness. Hamilton held that the soul is never unconscious of itself^ even during sleep. Many of its experiences are lost from memory^ leaving blank intervals between the experiences distinctly recalled. Locke, on the other hand, maintained that the soul is conscious only during certain periods, and hat at other times, as in deep sleep, or during swoons, it is absolutely unconscious. The question is of small practical importance ; for, though it be shown that the soul is periodically rather than constantly conscious, it knows itself on regaining consciousness as having been before. If the soul still knows itself, after a period of unconsciousness, it is certainly something very different from a "series of feelings ^^ or a "thread of conscious- ness." Hamilton's defense of the continuity of consciousness is very jngenioiis and merits a careful reading. It may be found in his ''Lectures on Metaphysics," p. 216 ct seq. These arguments have been repeated and reinforced with considerable skill by an American psychologist, John Bascom (1827- ), in his " Science of Mind," p. 72 et seq. Locke's doctrine may be found in his "Essay con- cerning Human Understanding," Book II., Chap. I. 6. Two Forms of Self-consciousness. Psychologists have distinguished two forms of Self- consciousness, which they call Spontaneous and Eeflective. The distinction has value mainly in showing the different degrees of intensity with which Self-consciousness ig realized. Spontaneous Self-consoiousness is intended to 20 FSYCnOLOGY. designate that low degree of self-knowledge wliicli all men possess. Reflective Self-consciousness is meant to signify that energetic realization of self-existence that is acquired by profound reflection upon the nature and causes of our being. The difference between them is one of degree alone. It consists in the greater degree of Attention (from the Latin ad, toward, and tendere, to stretch), or concentration of consciousness, with which Eeflective Self -consciousness is accompanied. Attention is sometimes treated by writers on Psychology as if it were a special intellectual faculty. It is simply a concentration of consciousness upon a particular object. It is caused either by some powerful external stimulation of interest, in which case it is invol- untary; or by some personal volition, in which case it is voluntary. In every case, it is the result of something wholly external to the soul, or of an exercise of Will, or of a habit produced by one or the other of these causes. The treatment of this topic, therefore, falls most naturally under the third part of our division of Psychology, as a mode of action connected with the Will. 7. Origin of Reflectire Self-consciousness. The higher form of Self-consciousness is developed by the reflective use of the intellectual powers. It is seldom found in the very young, and always when found in them indicates an abnormal condition. The acquisition of ma- terials for reflection is the first natural step in the progress of development. Eeflection ought then to follow. If it follows too early, the soul ^^ feeds upon itself, ^^ producing an abnormal result. Though liable to abuse, it is the necessary attainment of the philosopher and the man of science, and is cultivated by close self-examination and self -analysis. PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 21 8. Normal Forms of Reflective Self-consciousness. There are two forms of Reflective Self-consciousness that are entirely normal and exceedingly useful. They are : (1) The Philosophical, which impels the Intellect to observe closely, compare widely and seek diligently for causes and principles. It seems to be the peculiar posses- sion of great men, who differ from common men not so much in the special brilliancy of any one faculty as in the urgency of mind by which they are impelled to great dis- coveries or enterprises. (2) The Ethical, which habitually compares self with a moral standard, with a view to self -improvement. Noah Porter (1811- ), an American metaphysician, says : " Christianity has trained the Intellect of the human race to this activity, and hence has been so efficient in educat- ing and elevating the masses of men, even where it has furnished little formal intellectual culture.'"^ 9. Abnormal Forms of Reflective Self- conscious- ness. There are several forms of Reflective Self -consciousness that are unquestionably abnormal. They are as follows : (1) The Precocious form is manifested in some chil- dren in whom the subjective life has too early come to dominate over the objective. The natural sphere of men- tal activity for a child is that of his perceptions. He should be chiefly interested in the objects around him, not in himself. The perfectly normal child is largely occupied with the outer world. 22 PSYCHOLOGY. For this there is .1 physical, as well as a psychical reason. The brain and nervous system increase in size rapidly until about the seventh year. After this the brain increases but little in size, but the osseous and muscular systems increase rapidly, until full growth is attained. This time of growth is the period for the co-ordination of the nervous and muscular systems with the outer world. If it is not made then, the difficulty increases later on. If too much reflec- tion is required, the delicate brain is too severely taxed before it has attained its maximum "of power and the free activities necessary to what may be called " terminal," as distinguished from "central," growth are rendered impossible. (2) The Egotistic form consists in an unnatural interest in self and a nervous anxiety about one's appearance or reputation or the impression one is making. It causes one to blusli if lie is noticed, and to be sulky if he is over- iooked. It leads to affectation in society and tliouglit and often results in positive unhappiness. (3) The Hypochondriacal form is usually the product of some chronic disease wliicli leads tlie patient to be always thinking of his own sensations and always imagining that they are to become worse, without hope of betterment. People thus afflicted exaggerate their own sufferings and are sometimes confirmed in their abnormal states by sym- pathetic friends who encourage their delusions. Hypo- chondria is often Nature's penalty for inordinate self- ishness. 10. The Relation of Self-consciousness to Educa- tion. Education is the unfolding, or drawing out, of innate powers, while training is the impressing of another's will upon the activities of the being trained. The lower ani- mals may be trained, but they cannot be educated. We PRESENTATlVE KNOWLEDGE. 23 can compel them to do our will, but we cannot draw out powers whicli they do not possess, or develop powers within them to whose production they do not conspire. The first condition of education, in any high sense, is the existence of a Self-consciousness that will respond to our efforts to develo]) latent powers. Nothing can be educated that cannot say, '^I." Nothing is beyond the hope of education that can say, ''I will try." Every thing pivots upon this realization of self. Laura Bridgman^ could be educated, though she was blind and deaf. She could say, " 1," not orally, for she was dumb, but mentally. She could respond to intelligent communications through the sense of touch alone, because she possessed self-conscious intelligence. No motives to learn, except physical mo- tives, can be offered to a being who does not know that he belongs to a higher order. The human child becomes educable when he arrives at the knowledge of liimself as self-conscious. Prior to that, he is susceptible of training, but not of education. lit this section, on " Self-consciousness," we liave considered :— 1, Self-consciousness Defined, 2, Mntne^s Denial of Self-consciousness. 3, Mill on Self-consciousness, 4, Spencer's Denial of Immediate Self -con scious" ness, 5, The ConUnuitif of Self-consciousness, 6, Tivo Forms of Self -consciousness, 7, Origin of Reflective Self-consciousness, 8, Normal Forms of Hefiective Self-consciousness, 9, Abnormal Forms of Reflective Self-conscious- ness, 10, The Relation of Self-consciousness to Education^ U PSYCHOLOGY. References : (1) Hume's Treatise of Hiiman Nature, p. 321 (2) Mill's Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, I., pp. 2G0, 2G2. (3) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological Theory, p. 13. (4) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, Part IT., Chap. I. (5) Por- ter's Human Intellect, p. 106. (6) For an account of Laura Bridg- man, see her Life, by Mary Smith Larason ; for a shorter, but very good, account, see the article by G. Stanley Hall, in Mind, reprinted i.n bis Aspects of German Culture, pp. 237, 270. SECTION n. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 1. Sense-perception Defined. Sense-perception is the soul's knowledge of material objects. The word " perception " (from the Latin per^ through, and ccq^ere, to take, implying a taking through an organ of sense) is used to designate apotver, an act, and even an object. Thus we say, '^ The soul has percep- tio7i/' where we mean that the soul has power of percep- tion. Again, we say, ''^ My perception of that sound is not acute," where we understand the particular act of perception. Finally, we say, ^^ Do you recall the percep- tions you had during your walk ? " where the reference is to certain objects perceived. The analysis of Sense-perception is difficult on account of the complex character of an act of perception and the psycho-physical relations involved. Every perception is accompanied with some de- gree of sensation, which, as mere feeling and not knowledge, must be separated in the analysis from the perception itself. Previous perceptions, revived through the representative power, are always blending themselves with present perceptions. Acts of judgment also are mingled Tf ith what we take for pure perceptions in a man- PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 25 ner almost incredibre until the fact is demonstrated. But the prin- cipal difficulty, and one that has given rise to more discussion than any other single problem of Psychology, is the discovery of the line of separation between the functions of the sense-organs and the powers of the soul. 2. The Two Elements in Sense-perception. There are two elements in an act of Sense-perception. The first is the act of perception proper, by which the external object is known. The second is the state of the soul in performing the act of perception and is called a sensation. The first belongs to the sphere of Intellect, the second to the sphere of Sensibility. (1) Perception proper has the following characteristics : {a) It is an act of hnoiuledge. (b) It gives knowledge of a 7ion-Ugo. (c) It gives knowledge of a sjmce-occiipying non-Ego. (2) Sensation proper has the following characteristics: {a) It is a state of the soul. (d) It is a form of feeling connected with the bodily organism. (c) It is a feeling that may be localized in the organism. As an example of Sense-perception, involving these two elements, take the case of knowing an object, say a knife, by touch. There is the perception of tvhat the object is, and it is known as not-Self, and as occupying a certain limited and defined space. But certain states of feeling are likewise induced. I feel the sharp edge of the blade on my thumb and localize there a sensation, at first indif- ferent, but, as I press harder against the edge, becoming 26 PSYCHOLOGY. painfui. We have^ then, hnoivledgc and feeling, but the knowledge is acquired through the feeling. Hamilton traces back the history of this distinction through Reid and others to Piotinus (205-270), a Neo-Platonic philosopher of Alexandria. Hamilton considers Reid's account of the distinc- tion as wanting in precision and gives a restatement of his own. He also lays down the following law ; " Knowledge and feeling, — per- ception and sensation, — though always co-existent, are always in the inverse ratio of each other." He adds: ''Above a certain limit, perception declines, in proportion as sensation rises. Thus, in the sense of sight, if the impression be strong, we are dazzled, blinded, and consciousness is limited to the pain or pleasure of the sensation, in the intensity of which perception is lost." ^ 3. The Couclitions of Sense-perception. Sense-perception takes place only under the following conditions : (1) There must be a nervous organism, adapt- ed to receiving and convejdng impressions ; (2) there must be some external excitant, capable of furnishing an impression ; (3) there must be an actual excitation of the organism by the excitant. (1) The nervous organism in man consists of the sym- pathetic and the cerebro-spinal systems. AYith the former we are not at present concerned. The cerebro-spinal system consists of the brain (see Figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 1, at the end of the text), the medulla oblongata (see Figures 2 and 7), and the spinal cord (see Figures 1, 2, and 3), with their attachments (see Figures 1, 2, and 3) and ramifications in the sense-organs (see Figures 8 to 17). This organism is composed of two kinds of matter, {a) the gray, which is cellular and is supjDosed to be the source of nervous energy (see Figure 8, vl) ; and (b) the white, which is fibrous and furnishes lines for the transmission of nerv- PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 27 ous currents (see Figure 8, B). Considering the whole as a telegrapliic system, the gray matter takes the place of batteries and the white matter that of wires. The con- ducting fibres are grouped in fasciculi, or bundles, in the, manner of a cable. They are all adapted to the trancmis- sion of imj^ressions, but not all in the same direction. The affepent (from the Latin cid, to, and/erre, to bear), or sensor, nerves are so placed as to receive impressions from the outer world, which they convey inward to the brain. The eifepent (from the Latin e, out, and ferre, to bear), or motop, nerves are so placed as to convey impulses out- ward from the brain to the muscles to which they are attached. The localization of special functions in the brain is an irxter- esting, but still an open, question. A celebrated Scotch physiolo- gist, David Ferrier (1843- ), has attempted, in his great work ok " The Functions of the Brain," to demonstrate, by means of experi- ments made on lower animals, that certain particular regions of the brain are devoted to the performance of certain partietriar functions. These are divided into sensor centres and motor centres. The sensor centres each receive particular kinds of impressions. There are the auditory, or hearing, centre ; the visual, or seeing, centre ; the gust- atory, or tasting, centre ; the olfactory, or smelling, centre ; and the tactual, or touching, centre. In a similar manner the motor cen- tres are divided. It is probably true, that, in a general sense, there| arc such particular centres, though the imaginary distribution cf them employed in the pseudo-science of Phrenology cannot be sus- tained on scientific ground and the experimental distribution at- tempted by Ferrier is not universally admitted. Every theory of localization of function has been denied by the English physiologist and writer, George Henry Lewes (1817-1878), who says: "The physiological properties of the nervous system are inseparable from every segment of that system ; and the functions are the manifesta- tion of those properties as determined by the special organs with the co-operation of all."* Perhaps a higher authority is the German 28 PSYCHOLOGY. experimenter, Goltz, who has conchided, on the basis of experiment, that "The liypothesis of circumscribed centres subserving special functions in the cerebral cortex is untenable." ^ George Croom Robertson (1842- ), the editor of the English psychological quar- terly, "Mind," says, in reviewing the claims of the rival experi- menters: " Goltz's conception of the intricate constitution and work' ing of the brain, so far as he has yet shadowed it forth, must be said to come much nearer [than that of Ferrier] to meeting the require- ments which psychology would make of physiology ; and, so long as such facts can be produced as Goltz has recorded in his memoirs, it is hard to believe that Ferrier rightly interprets the different facts which he on his side may now be allowed to have established."^ (2) If tliere were no external excitants, tlie nervous organism would receive no impressions to transmit. The outer world, however, is a system of forces that continually act upon the sensor nerves. The waves of light, during a large part of every day, do not cease to beat ujoon the eye, whose thin j^rotecting covering, even when closed, does not effectually exclude the luminous flood. The undula- tions of the air are even more obtrusive and j)Our them- selves incessantly upon the ear, ebbing a little only for a few hours in the night. Odors, savory and unsavory, per- meate the air and compel the nostril to inhale them. Surfaces surround us everywhere, some of which the force of gravity compels us to rest upon, giving us incessant experiences of hardness or softness, roughness or smooth- ness. These external excitants, then, furnish the phys- ical stimulus. The science of Physics has shown that the so-called material world is a world of motion. Reduced to its one fundamental characteristic, the physical world reveals itself through vibration. " If we imagine a machine so constructed as to be able to impress on a rod of metal vibrations of every degree of rapidity, we can set forth an imaginary gradation in the sensory responses. Thus, in a PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 29 darkened room, the rod begins oscillating and we feel its irapaots on our skin as so many gentle taps ; when the vibrations of the air thas excited become sufficiently numerous, we feel them as pulses, which we hear as puffs. When these puffs reach a rapidity of 16 in the second, they pass into the deepest bass tone. Here begin the specific responses of tone ; and they will run through the whole musical gamut as the vibrations increase in quantity, the tones becoming shriller and shriller (but not louder) until the vibrations amount to 36,000 in a second. Then all again is silence. The vibrations may increase and increase, but this increase brings with it no sound. It may be that here, or somewhere about this limit, the molecules of the air suddenly cease to move ; they have reached their limit of oscillation ; and any fresh impulse will move the air in a mass, but not move it in waves. Besides the air, however, there is ether, and this takes up the motion of the rod. At first, the ethereal pulses are not powerful enough to move the comparatively heavy molecules of a sensor nerve : for such an effect a greater rapidity is requisite, and when this reaches 18 millions in a second, the sensor nerves of the skin respond in what is known as a sensation of luarmth. The leap from 36,000 vibrations of air to 18 million vibrations of ether, is the leap from sound to heat. The rod continues its acceleration, and when it reaches 462 billion vibrations in a second, then only is it Juminous. The sensation of heat disappears, giving place to that of light, — that is, to red rays. The rays pass from red to yellow when the vibrations reach 540 billion, to green when they reach 582 billion, and to violet when they reach 733 billion in a second. Such at least are the verdicts of the calculus. The7i all is darkness.^'' ^ And yet we know, from chemical reactions, that still more rapid vibra- tions exist. (3) Of the innumerable excitants about us only those which cause actual excitation of the organism produce either sensations or perceptions within us. Whenever, by any cause, a special set of nerves is paralyzed, the excit- ants that operate through the paralyzed set of nerves can- not affect the organism. Blindness is such a condition of the optic nerves. Thus a whole sphere of knowledge is shut out from the consciousness of the blind. There is 30 PSYCHOLOGY. evidently necessary, then, in addition to the presence of external excitants, a physiological stimulus. This is furnished by the nervous system. Wc are surrounded with an invisible universe, which can be mathematically proved to exist and into which we sometimes obtain glimpses through the telescope and the microscope, but which no instrument of precision can fathom. The fixed stars are so distant that the largest telescope does not affect their magnitude and no microscope has enabled us to see a thought. Sensation and percep- tion are evidently conditioned upon the adjustment of our sense- organs to the objective world. Many of the lower animals show a far finer adjustment than man can boast. It is evident also that men vary in their delicacy of adjustment to the external world. The phenomena of Clairvoyance, so far as they can be proved real and not apochiyphal stories, find their scientific explanation in the ex- traordinary delicacy of adjustment to external conditions. We can place no strictly scientific limit to the range of perception. It is, however, highly probable that all communications are to be ex- plained in the same way and consist in the transmission of impres- sions through the nervous system. The hypothesis of modern Spiritism, usually accompanied with the motives and machinery of trickery and deception, which refers unusual power of perception to the revelation of spiritual agents, is wholly unscientific and unworthy of credence. Such phenomena as the transference of thought at a distance, mind-reading and kindred subjects are undergoing in- vestigation by a Society for Psychical Research formed for the purpose of extending our knowledge of the extraordinary in psychi- cal experiences. Whatever may be found true with regard to the exceptional, and often wholly imaginary, conditions of knowledge, it will not essentially affect what is more certainly determined.* 4. Abnormal Excitation. The nervous organism, as a part of the corporeal sys- tem, is liable to disease. Mechanical rupture, chemical disorganization, poisonous constituents in the blood, or defective nourishment, may readily derange the transmit- PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 31 ting power of a nerve or set of nerves, and thus either destroy or vitiate all communications through them. Fever has a powerful disintegrating tendency and often fills the sufferer with abnormal excitations amounting to that complete confusion of sense-impressions called de- lirium. Visions^ epileptic fits^ and insanity are results of viljnormal excitation of the nervous organism. It is a noteworthy fact, as affording some explanation of these phenomena, that, if a nerve be irritated in any unnatural way, it will still convey an impression of its own peculiar kiiid. Thus, an electric current in the optic nerve pro- duces a flash of light and in the auditory nerve a sound. This is called the idiopathy of the nerves (from the Greek, Idiog, idios, own, and naOo^, pafJios, suffering). It is also expressed as the specific energy of the nerves. The doctrine of the specific energy of nerves has been generally accepted since the time of the great German physiologist, J. Miiller (1801-1858), and is still held by the German physicist, H. L. F. Helmholtz (1821- ), to be of extraordinary importance to the theory of perception. It is, however, rejected by Lewes, who says : "The specific sensation, or movement, which results from stimular- tion of a nerve depends not on the nerve, but on the mechanism of v/hich the nerve is one element." ' Hermann Lotze (1817-1881), a di.5tinguished German psychologist, denies the specific energies of the nerves, holding that specific energies would imply specific struc- tures, of which we know nothing. He says : " We merely know that the stimulus of light, impact and pressure, the passage of a current of electricity through the eye, awaken the sensation of light ; and perhaps that impact and electricity produce also the sensation of sound ; and the latter also the sensation of taste. Now a motion of the ponderable parts by means of impact can scarcely take place in tlie tense eye-ball without a part of this motion being also converted into motions of the ether that exists in the eye, and so producing a motion of light, which acts as adequate stimulus upon the nerve of sight in precisely the same way as if it came from without. Just s< 32 PSYCHOLOGY. the imparted shocks may be changed into oscillations of the tense parts and membranes, which are then normal stimuli for the nerve of hearing just as well as are the acoustic waves that come from without. Finally, it is quite certain that the electrical current ex- cites chemical decomposition of the fluids of the mouth, and that the adequate stimulus for the nerve of taste consists in this directly." ^ 5. Definition of a Sense and a Sense-organ. A sense is a power of the soul to know a particular class of external impressions. A sense-organ is a part of the terminal apparatus of the nervous organism that furnishes the soul with some impression in an act of Sense-percep- tion. The word " sense " is often used to signify gener*'" intelligence, as when we say, " That is a man of sense."" It is important to remember that a sense is a psychical power while a sense-organ is a physiological part. It is not the eye that sees nor the ear that hears, nor is it the brain. It is the self- conscious Ego. /both see and hear, with the aid of my sense-organs as instruments. An eye-glass or an ear-trumpet is sometimes neces- sary to supplement the natural organ. The organic instruments no more do the seeing and hearing than do these artificial aids. They are simply essential helps in the process of Sense-perception. 6. Classification of tlie Senses. , The following classification of the senses is the most satisfactory : (1) The Muscular Sense has for its organs nerves dis- tributed to the muscles, which furnish such sensations as those of motion, resistance, weariness, excess of energy, etc. The sensations thus derived are of two classes : {a) Sensations of free movement; and {h) Sensations of im- peded movement. (2) The Organic Sense has for its organs nerves dis- PRESENTATIYE KNOWLEDGE. 33 tributed to the various bodily organs, furnishing sensa- tions, readily distinguished from the muscular sensations, indicative of the organic condition of health and giving notice of disease in the organs by sensations of pain or uneasiness. (3) The Special Senses are five in number and are called '' special "' because each has a special organ furnish- ing the most important elements of Sense-perception. They are Touch, Smell, Taste, Hearing, and Sight. It is with these five special senses that we have mainly to deal in discussing Sense-perception. Another classification of the senses, based upon the mode in "which the sense-organs are stimulated, has been given, as follows : Molar or Dynamical senses \ Tactile-Touch. { Acoustic— Hearing. Molecular or Chemical senses -I ^^!^^*l*r~'^„^^*^- ( Catalytic— Smell. Intermolecular or Etheric senses \ Thermic-Temperature. ( Photic— Sight. The sensations of touch and of temperature are, indeed, different, but they are received through the same general organs. Regarding the completeness of the human senses, as related to external nature, no certainty can ever be attained ; for, if there are agencies in nature other than those which now produce sensations within us, it is impossible to prove their existence, unless our organ- ization were so changed as to enable us to perceive them. " It is, however, as unphilosophical to suggest a limit to the number of modes pi action of the common force of nature as it is to assume the exist- ence of such modes as we cannot possibly establish by proof ; for we cannot deny the existence of other modes of action of the force of nature than those revealed by our present senses." 7. The Special Senses. (1) Touch. — The tactual sense has its organ in the skfn (see Figure 9). This is filled with minute papillae, 34 PSYCHOLOGY. placed beneath the cutis and enclosing the terminations of fine filaments of nerve (see Figures 9 and 10). Differ- ent parts of the skin vary in sensibility. The sensory circles, or areas limited by the ability to distinguish the two 2)oints of a pair of dividers, range from four one-hun- dredths of an inch to over two and a half inches in diam- eter. There are five classes of distinguishable sensations of touch : (ci) those of 'gentle touch, as when a finger is laid softly on a smooth surface ; {h) those of acute pain, as when a sharp point is touched; (c) those of temperature, as when the hand is placed on a hot surface ; {d) those of pressure, as when a light weight is laid on the surface ; and [e) those of reaction, as wdien we feel that a little more or a little less force must be used to hold or balance an object. The last two are combinations wdth muscular sensations. All tactile sensations are referred to the sur- face of the body and are assigned location in space. The extent of sensory circles was first determined in 1835 by a German physiologist, E. H. Weber, who has been followed by other experimenters. The method is to take a pair of blunt-pointed di- viders and apply the points to the skin of another person in different places, bringing the points together till there seems to be but owe sensation. The distance of the points from each other is then re- corded. The individual variation is very great. The following is a comparative table based on the most carefully compiled results : Tongne-tip 1.1 mm. (.04 inch) Palm side of last phalanx of finger 2.2 mm. (.08 inch) Red part of lips 4.4 mm. (.16 inch) Tip of nose 6.6 mm. (.24 inch) Back of second phalanx of finger 11.0 mm. (.44 inch) Heel 22.0 mm. (.88 inch) Back of hand 30.8 mm. (1.23 inches) Forearm 39.6 mm. (1.58 inches) Sternum 44.0 mm. (1.76 inches) Back of neck 52.8 mm. (2.11 inches) Middle of back 66.0 mm. (2.64 inches) PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 35 The explanation of Weber's sensory circles has given rise to much discussion. lie himself held that each circle is supplied by one nerve-fibre. Other experiments have shown that pressure-spots are recognizable within a circle. George T. Ladd (1842- ), an American psychologist, concludes, "The sensations produced by laying a single blunted divider's point upon the skin, are really very complex, and are composed of the sensations from several pressure- spots blended with other sensations from the rest of the same area not covered by the pressure-spots. The fineness of the discrimina- tion possible in any area of the skin depends, then, upon how all the points irritated stand relateci to the specific pressure-spots."^ The Greek philosopher, Democritus (B.C. 460-357), taught that touch is the primary and original sense, out of which the other senses are developed. There is much to render this idea probable. The lowest forms of nervous organism respond only to the stimuli of direct contact. Some of these lower forms are thought to respond to differences of color, which are probably not known as such, but still are felt as different. Touch always remains the test sense to which we resort in cases of doubt. We recognize the ease with which the ear and the eye are deceived, but feel confident of the real presence of an object when we can touch it and of its illusory char- acter wlieii we cannot. (2) Smell. — The organ of the olfactory sense is the nostrils, which afford a surface covered by a sensitive mu- cous membrane for the reception of odorous paTticles (see Figure 11). Smell is believed to be excited only by con- tact with a gaseous substance. The sensations are local- ized in the nose and are referred to its interior surface. They are commonly named from the names of the objects that excite them. " The amount of a substance which w^e are enabled to recognize by the organ of smell is extraordinarily smtUl. The merest trace, in a gaseous form, of a drop of oil of roses is all that is necessary to produce in our nostrils the impression of a pleasant odor. The smallest particle of musk is sufficient to impart its characteristic smell to the clothes, for years, the strongest current of air being in* 36 PSYCHOLOGY. sufficient to drive it away ; and Valentin has calculated that we ai** able to perceive about the three one-millionth of a grain of musk. The delicacy of our sense of smell surpasses that of the other senses. The minute particles of a substance which we perceive by smell, would be quite imperceptible to our taste, and if they were in a solid form, we should never be able to feel them, nor to see them, even if illuminated by the strongest sunlight. Xo chemical reaction can detect such minute particles of substance as those which we perceive by our sense of smell, and even spectrum analysis, which can recog- nize fifteen millionths of a grain, is far surpassed in delicacy by our organ of smell. " The development of the sense of smel! is even more astonish- ing in animals than it is in man, and plays a very important part in their organization. Hounds will recognize by smell the trace of an animal perfectly imperceptible to sight. But the acuteness of their sense of smell is far surpassed by that of the animal pursued, which is able, when the wind is in a favorable direction, to scent the huntsman at a distance of several miles." ^^ (3) Taste. — The organs of taste are the tongue, the palate, and a portion of the pharynx (see Figure 2). These organs contain minute terminal taste buds (see Figure 12), which are distributed with varying degrees of closeness to one another near their surfaces. The tongue and other parts serving as organs of taste are also organs of touch. Substances must be in liquid form, in order to be tasted. We generally name tastes, as we do smells, from the ob- jects that furnish them. We localize sensations of taste in the mouth and so attribute to them extension in space. *' The sensitiveness of our gustatory organs for certain sub- stances is very considerable, but not to be compared to that of smell. We can recognize by taste a solution of one part of sulphuric acid in 1,000 of water. A drop placed upon the tongue would contain about one two-thousandth of a gramme (three four-hundredths of a grain) of sulphuric acid, an infinitesimally small quantity, the detection of which by chemical analysis would be difficult." ^* PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 37 (4) Hearing. — The organ of the auditory sense is the ear, inchuling the corrugated receptacle of the external ear and the vibrating tympanum, series of j^ercussive t>ones and undulating liquid of the inner ear (see Figure 13). Sensations of sound are very numerous and are at- tended with perceptions of position and distance. These, however, are not immediately given with exactness, but are determined by experience and afford a large oppor- tunity for error. Sensations of sound are the basis of music and of articulate speech, which last is a human characteristic. Closely connected with the phenomena of sound are the rods of Corti, so called from the name of their discoverer (see Figure 14). They are situated in the coil of the cochlea (see Figure 13). They number about 3,000. The rods, or fibres, are not of uniform size or shape, and they remind one of the strings of a piano. The cochlea is thus provided with a " sympathetic vibratory apparatus for the perception of musical sensation," each fibre transmitting its peculiar tone. It is probably through this delicate organ of Corti that we are able to distinguish the fine shades of musical tone. (5) Sight. — The organ of the visual sense is the eye (see Figure 15). The image of the object seen is thrown upon the retina (see Figure 15, rr), but vision does not take place there. There are tivo images, one in each eye, and they are inverted, which starts the question, How do we see one object and see it iqn'ight? Impressions are supposed to be conveyed through the intricate mechanism of the retina (see Figure, 16) and the optic nerve of each eye (see Figure 15, 16, and Figure 17, n), the optic nerves crossing in the commisure (see Figure 17, oc) and con- tinuing to the brain, where perception takes 2:>lace. The object of vision has the following characteristics : 38 PSYCHOLOGY. (a) It is exT ended ; (h) It lias only superficial extension ; [c) It is colored {i. e., shaded)^ often variegated. That the image should appear extended is not difficult to account 'or, because the impressions are probably delivered to the brain side by side, and so really extended, although in an area much smaller than the image on the retina. That the mode of extension is in two dimensions, or only superficial, instead of in three dimensions, or having depth as well as area, is regarded as certain from experiments made on those restored from blindness. The English physician, Cheselden (1688-1752), gave sight to a young patient of twenty years by an operation for cataract. The moment the patient saw, everything appeared to him upon a plane surface. His subsequent experiences, and those of other patiefiits, shew that the idea of depth, or of the third dimension in space, is derived by experience with the aid of movement and the sense of touch. Binocular vision, or vision with two eyes, is sometimes appealed to, to show that we know depth by sight alone, but the stereoscopic pictures, which give the same result as binocular vision oi natural objects, are upon a perfectly plane surface. There has been much speculation upon the cause of color in our optical experience. The following is the Young-Helmholtz theory, so called because invented by Thomas Young (1773-1829), an Eng- lish physicist, and developed by the German physicist, Kelmhoitz. It may be stated as follows : " Let us suppose, for example, a nerv^e- fibre to terminate in a cone (see Figure 16, rod and cone layer, 9) which, through its physical or chemical constitution, is only affected by red rays of light ; then this nerve-fibre will transmit the irrita- tion to the brain, and the brain thus receives an intimation that the impression has been made by a certain kind of light, which is recog- nized as red. Let us also suppose the same cone to be connected with another nerve-fibre, the end of which can be irritated only by a green ray, then the brain, if the irritation of this nerve-fibre has been conveyed to it, becomes conscious of the presence of a different kind of light, which, from experience, it will call green. We can thus picture to ourselves the existence of several kinds of nerve- fibres in the optic nerve, which differ from each other only in their terminal organs within the rods and cones, each of which can be PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 39 irritated by a particular kind of light alone. At first it would be supposed that a vast number of fibres must exist in a sensitive ele- ment of the retina. " It would be a great temptation to claim for every color in the spectrum a separate nerve-filn-e ; but it is quite sufficient if we reduce the number of fibres to three, in accordance with the number of primary colors, red, green, and violet. In fact, all the phenomena of the sensation of color may be perfectly explained on the supposi- tion that, in each point of the retina, three kinds of nerve-fibres terminate, one of which is sensitive to red, another to green, and the third to violet.'" "^^ Kow suppose that the fibres sensitive to red are without the peculiar quality that renders them sensitive. Then the person in whose eye there is this deficiency will be blind to this color and we have a ease of color-blindness, lately proved to be very common, almost one in twenty persons showing an incapacity to distinguisk red colors distinctly. What looks to others white, must to them have a greenish-blue appearance. There are degrees of color-blind- ness, an incapacity for shades of the color. This peculiarity is called also Daltonism from the name of the English chemist, John Dalton (1 760-1844), who discovered Ihe existence of color-blindness by find- hig in himself an incapacity to distinguish the red coats of soldiers on parade from the green -^olor of the grass. 8. The Knowled^re Obtained by the Special Senses- Having reviewed tlie various special senses and con- eidered tlie organs through which knowledge is furnished, we now need, to inquire what knowledge is furnished by them. Let us, then, apply our sense-organs to some simple object, an orange^ for example. (1) By Touch we know the orange to possess (a) resist- ance in a degree which we name hardness or softness; (h) surface, which we characterize as rough or smooth; and (c) extensio7i, which by movement we learn to be in three dimensions, and describe as spherical. (2) By Smell we obtain a pleasant and pungent odor, 40 PSYCHOLOGY. and from this sense we can derive no other knowledge; except the distribution of this odor in space, it being more or less intense as we bring the orange near or re- move it from us. (3) By Taste we derive two forms of knowledge : (a) the flavor of the orange, which is the appropriate pres- entation of Taste ; and (b) toycJi, which is not special to this sense and has been considered above. (4) By Hearing we can obtain various sounds, as the orange is variously struck or allowed to fall from different heights, and we can, in part, locate the orange by the sounds. (5) Finally, by Sight we perceive colored extension, but the presentation does not agree with that of Touch ; for the orange does not present a sphere, but a circle, to the eye. We correct this by taking a new point of viev/ and the disagreement is then resolved into agreement. We ilistinguish also by Sight contrasts of color, as light and shade. Size is perceived, but it is merely relative, and to know it positively we must also know the distance of th*^. object from the observer. When we consider that all sense-impressions are simply move- ments of matter in space, and that the nervous org-anism is itself simply an aggregate of material molecules, and then contrast with these the knowledge acquired through Sense-perception, it is evident that there is between sense-impression and sense-knowledge a great interval. This has been generally recognized by the greatest thinkers. The English physicist, John Tyndall (1820- ), says : " The passage from the physics of the Ijrain to the corresponding facts of consciousness is unthinlcahJe.'''' ^^ The English anatomist and biologist, Thomas Henry Huxley (1825- ), observes : " How it is that anything so remarkable as a state of consciousness comes about by the result of irritating nervous tissue, is just as unaccountable as the appearance of the Djin when Aladdin rubbed his lamp." ^* The PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 41 German physiologist, Du-Bois Reymond (1818- ), says: "If we possessed an absolutely perfect knowledge of the body, including the brain and all changes in it, the psychical state known as sensation would be as incomprehensible as now. For the very highest knowl- edge we could get would reveal to us only matter in motion, and the connection between any motions of any atoms in my brain, and such unique, undeniable facts as that I feel pain, smell a rose, or see red, is thoroughly incomprehensible." ^^ 9. What do we Perceive? Sense-perception affords ns (1) separate and different possible to organize impressions into knowledge. These conditions are : (1) A sufficient period of time. No impression is per- ceived, unless the excitation has some continuance. A burning coal may be moved so rapidly as to appear like a circle of fire, when in reality it is but a single point. The reason is that the circle is made so swiftly as to produce but one impression through the eye. The velocity of light and that of sound have been calculated by physicists and are set down as about 190,000 miles per second for li2:ht, and 1,090 feet per second for sound, at 32° F., sound travel- ling one foot faster per second for every degree above that tempera- ture. The speed of transmission through a motor nerve in man has been calculated by Helmholtz to be about 111 feet per second, but Von Wittich found it to be 98.5 feet. Hirsch calculated the speed in the sensor nerves to be about 111.5 feet per second. " More than this has been done; the time has been measured which is requisite for an irritant conducted to the brain to be transmuted into consciousness. Such determinations, in addition to their theo- retical value, are of practical interest to observing astronomers. In observing the passage of stars on the meridian and comparing the passage seen through the telescope with the audible beats of a sec- ond-pendulum, the observer always admits a slight error, dependent on the tLme which the impressions on the two senses require to reach the state of consciousness. In two different observers this error is not of exactly the same value ; and in order to render the observa- tions of different astronomers comparable with each other, it is nec- essary to know the difference between the two cases, the so-called personal equation. In order to refer the observations made by each individual to the correct time, it is necessary to determine the eo PSYCHOLOGY. error which is made by each individual. Let us suppose that an observer sitting in complete darkness suddenly sees a spark, and thereupon gives a signal. By a suitable apparatus, both the time at which the spark really appeared and that at which the signal was given are recorded. The difference between the two can be meas- ured, and it is called the physiological time for the sense of sight: the physiological time for tlie sense of hearing and for \hai of touch may be determined in the same way. Professor Hirsch, of Neuf- chatel, found this to be, in the case of The sense of Sight 0.1974 to 0.20&3 seconds. The sense of Hearing 0.1940 seconds. The sense of Touch 0.1733 seconds. When the impression which was to be recorded was not unexpected, but was known beforehand, the physiological time proved to be much shorter; in the case of sight, it was only 0.07 to 0.11 of a sec- ond." ^o For a very complete and satisfactory summary of experi- ments of this kind, see Ladd's "Physiological Psychology," pp. 468, 497. (2) A certain intensity in the impression is necessary. J. F. Herbart introduced into Psychology the expression the " threshold of consciousness," to designate that point at which an impression or ^ ' representation '' enters into the sphere of feeling. There has been developed a school of psycho- physics whose members have devoted much effort to the determination of the quantitative laws of sense-impressions. The law of Weber is : In order that a sensation may increase in quantity in arithmetical j^ro- gression, the stiinulus must increase in geometrical pro- gression. Althongh this law cannot be rigidly demon- strated, it expresses a general trntli, that an impression must reach a certain degree of intensity before it can be known, and that any increase in perception requires a greater proportionate increase in stimulation. The most important contributor to psycho-physics is the Germai. experimenter, G. T. Fechner (1801-1888). Fechner's formula is: PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. Q\ "The sensation grows as the logarithm of the excitation.'" Nearly all the experiments of Fechner are contested by Hering and others. His work is in part accepted and modified by the French psycholo- gist Delboeuf and the German psychologist Wundt. For a very interesting account of psycho-physical investigation and controversy, see Ribot's " German Psychology of To-day," translated by Baldwin. We have room for only a few alleged results. To increase percep- ■ tibly a sensation of pressure, we must add ^ to the original weight ; to increase a sensation of muscular effort, we must add -^^ ; to in- crease a sensation of light, we must add j^ ; to increase a sensation of soimd, we must add ^. (3) A certain psychical reaction is necessary. Some- times a soldier^ wonnded in the heat of battle, is not con- scions of his injury until the battle is over. In this case, thousands of painful impressions would have been realized had they been made the objects of conscious reaction. The attention being engrossed upon other objects, they pass away and are not grouped with his perceptions, be- cause they have not received attention. Others designate this act of attention by the word apperception, meaning thereby the reaction of the conscious subject upon the im- pressions. Wundt makes much of this process of apperception and locates it in the frontal regions of the brain. It is through it that unity is given to our mental life. What is it that attends or apperceives ? Consciousness says "i," indicating thereby the conscious self. Does physiology contradict this testmiony ? Does it affirm that appercep- tion is a function of the brain, or of a portion of the brain ? There is no physiological, or other evidence in opposition to that of con- sciousness. " All the sensations of the senses," says Bernstein, "of which we are capable, pass into perceptions of the senses, as soon as certain mental operations have been aroused by the sensory excite- ment."*' " We are entirely unable," says Rosenthal, " even to in- dicate how this consciousness comes into being. It may be due to molecular processes in the nerve-cells which result from the received 62 PSYCHOLOGY. excitement; but molocular processes are but movements of the mole cules, and though we can understand how such movements cause other movements, we arc entirely unaware how these can be trans- lated into consciousness." ^2 After a careful review of the whole subject, L add concludes: "The phenomena of human conscious- ness must be regarded as activities of some other form of Real Being than the moving molecules of the brain. They require a subject or ground which is in nature unlike the phosphorized fats of the central masses, the aggregated nerve-fibres and nerve-cells of the cerebral cortex. . . . That the subject of the states of consciousness is a real being, standing in certain relations to the material beings which compose the substance of the brain, is a conclusion warranted by all the facts." i* 11. Character of the Completed Product. The com2:)leted product of Sense-perce^^tion has the fol- lowing characteristics : (1) It is a form of distinct knowledge ; (2) It is organized in certain necessary relations; (3) It may be reproduced in consciousness ; (4) It may be recognized as having been known be- fore ; (5) It may be recombined with other forms of knowl- edge ; Such a result is an idea, as distinguished from a per- ception, and, as a psychical 2">i'oduct, has a i^sychical nat- ure. In passing from the world of perceptions to the world of ideas, we enter a new province which we shall partly explore in succeeding chapters. 12. Relation of Soul and Body. The relation between the conscious self, or soul, and the organic system, or body, is not known directly h^ PRESENTATIYE KNOWLEDGE. 63 either internal or external observation. The doctrine of their connection is theoretical and;, as such, does not be- long to Psychology as a science. It is at this point that philosophic systems have their psychological origin. (1) Monism (from the Greek [lovog, monos, one) assumes that soul and body are of one substance. It takes on the form of (ci) IVIaterialism when the soul is regarded as a mere product of material combination^, or as a function of matter in motion ; of {h) Idealism when all known ob- jects are regarded as ideas^ or products of psychical action, the soul being considered as immaterial and its phenom- ena as the only other realities ; and of (c) Agnosticism when ignorance is professed concerning the nature of the one substance which is assumed to underlie the modes of both physical and psychical being. (2) Dualism (from the Latin duo, two) has usually as- sumed the form of [ci) Mysticism, inventing the hypoth- eses of vision of all things in God, pre-established harmony, and the intervention of a tertium quid, or third entity, to connect the abstract notions of mind and matter. More solid scientific ground is found in {IS) Dualistic Realism, which rests upon the clear apprehension of the soul by Self-consciousness and of the body by Sense-perception as two modes of being so inconvertible in thought and an- tithetical in attributes that we are obliged to regard them as tivo different, but real, substances, whose relation is established in the psycho-physical unity of our being, but in a manner unknown to us. The Monistic doctrines all ignore the idea of opposition which every language, and in truth every man, seems to note between the phenomena of consciousness and the phenomena of the physical world. Alexander Bain may be classed as a IVIaterialist in his con' 64 PSYCnOLOGY. ception of the body as a " double-faced unity," mind on one side and matter on the other, with the implication that mind is but a func- tion of matter, thus leaving matter in the field as the primary mode of being and only real substance. J. S. Mill is an Idealist, regarding mind as a "series of feelings," a "thread of consciousness," while matter is a "permanent possibility of sensations. " Herbert Spencer is a typical Agnostic, referring the phenomena of both mind and matter, between which he admits a difference, to an Unknown and Unknowable Absolute Substance. If the existence of either mind or matteft- is to be brought in question, the balance of evidence, as esti- mated by the greatest thinkers, seems to be that all is mind. Dual- istic doctrines have been complicated by arbitrary and metaphysical ideas of both mind and matter. The tendency to regard thought as the essential characteristic of mind and extension as that of matter, may be traced back to Descartes, who treated both abstractly and yet as if they were realities. The French Cartesian philosopher, Nicolas Malebranche (1038-1715), employed the vision of all things In God to account for the unextended soul's knowledge of extended things by assuming a direct vision of ideas in the divine mind (spirit being able to know the contents of spirit), and the doctrine of occa- sional causes to account for its movement of things by special di- vine assistance on the occasion of a human volition (the divine spirit being omnipotent). G. W. Leibnitz (1646-1716), an erudite and in- genious German philosopher, propounded his theory of pre-estab- lished harmony, by which the Creator is supposed to have ordered the phenomena of mind and those of matter to run parallel, without connection, like two clocks keeping the same time. Others sought to solve the problem of the relation of mind and matter by means of a tertium quid, or third entity, thus doubling the difficulty by re- quiring two impossible connections instead of one. Dualistic Real- ism has been maintained almost universally by mankind, without an attempt at solving metaphysical difficulties. It has been held by the Scotch philosophers generally from the time of Thomas Reid to that of James McCosh (1811- ), an American contemporary rep- resentative of the school. It has the advantage of adherence to facts and the rejection of arbitrary or mystical hypotheses. It also avoids a metaphysical, or abstract, conception of either mind or matter, rather regarding both as concrete realities. After all, there is quite as much difficulty in explaining the action ^i bodies at a dis- PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 65 tance, say the earth's gravitative action on the moon, as in explain- ing the relation of soul and body. A true science will colligate facts as Nature has connected them and confess ignorance where the means of further knowledge cease. Instead of the division of our nature into body and soul, others have proposed a threefold division, or trichotomy, into body, soul, and spirit. This has been defended by a few, as, for example, by the German theologian Delitzsch (1813- ), in his " Biblical Psy- chology," as constiiuting the psychological assumption underlying the language of the Christian Scriptures. That no such assumption is implied, and that the terms "body," "soul," and "spirit" are not to be taken as indicating wholly separate constituents of human nature, is maintained by theologians generally, while the threefold division is wholly repudiated from a purely scientific and philosoph- xjal point of view.^"* 13. Sense-perception and Education. The senses and their presentations are important factors of education. The physical world exists for the soul^ not simply to gratify our desires^ but to train and unfold our powers. The doctrines laid down in this section show us (1) what should be the earliest studies^ (2) in what man- ner they should be pursued^ and (3) how to improve our Sense-perceptions. (1) The earliest studies of childhood should be objective and presentative. The brain-substance of young children is especially ada2:)ted to receive impressions. The sim- plest intellectual discriminations are those of perception. Therefore, the simple elements of knowledge are the proper mental food for children. Concrete facts, not abstract ideas, should be imparted, and whenever it is possible, by actual observation. The kindergarten system of F. W. A. Frobel (1782-1852), a German thinker who borrowed ideas of J. H. Pestalozzi (1746-1827), the celebrated Swiss 66 PSYCHOLOGY. educator, recognizes these truths and was an important advance in the education of chiklren. (2) The method of study should be that of object-les- sons. The best object-lessons are derived from objects themselves. Accordingly, the true method of teaching the physical sciences is to display to the learner, so far as possible, the things about which he is learning the facts and laws, — plants, animals, rocks, or stars, — and next to these models or pictures of them. And yet the objects themselves will not suffice. These have always been be- fore men with little practical fruit. Teachers and books are also needful to stimulate, interest and guide. As lan- guage is made up of spoken sounds, it should be actually spoken to and by the learner, and the foreign names should be connected with what they signify, not with other words with which they have no natural connection. Thus only can we learn to tliinh in a foreign language. As languages, imparted by the natural method, are largely objective and concrete, they form suitable studies for the young. (3) The improvement of Sense-perception is attained by its exercise. The eye or the ear is trained to perfection by employing it as an instrument of discrimination. Sail- ors and hunters, whose discerning powers are wonderful in certain particulars, do not have better eyes than other people, but their owners know how to use them better as means of knowledge. Our sense-organs become adapted to any use we choose to make of them and their value de- pends upon ourselves. It has been wisely said, '^^ All men look upon the same world, but not with the same eyes or to the same purpose.''^ Teachers should not overlook the value of play for children, not only as a means of recrea- PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 67 tion, but as affording experimental knowledge of the prop- erties of tilings and as a means of training the senses. Industrial education has a special value in developing the senses and organizing in the brain a true representation of material properties and forces by the adjustment of sensor and motor powers in manipulation. In this section, on " Sense-interpretation," we have considered :— 1, The Double Character' of Sense-perception, 2, The Development of the Senses, 3, Two Classes of Sense-jjercejjtion, 4, Acquired Sense-perceptions, 5, The Localization of Sensations, 6, The Illusions of Sense-perception, 7, Metliods of Avoidinfj Illusion, 8, I*erce2)ts and Objects, 9, The Orfjanization of Percepts, 10, Conditions of Organizing Percepts, 11, Character of the Completed Product, 12, Relation of Soul and Body, 13, Se^ise-iierception and Education, References : (1) See the little work in French, by Bernard Perez, Thierri Tiedefnann et la science de V enfant. (2) Carpenter's llental Physiology, p. 188. (3) Mind, July, 1887, p. 324. (4) Ribot's Ger- man Psychology of To-day (transhited by Baldwin), pp. 8G, 87. (5) Id., pp. 100, 101. (6) Sully's Illusions, pp. 99, 100. (7) Clarke's Visions; a Study in False Sight, pp. 26, 29. (8) Tuke's Mfluerice of the Hind upon the Body, p. 44. (9) Quoted by Carpenter, 3Iental Physiology, pp. 207, 208. (10) Rosenthal's Physiology of Muscles and Nerves, pp. 288, 289. (11) Bernstein's Five Senses of 3Ian, p. 34. (12) Rosenthal's Physiology of Muscles and Nerves, p. 278. (13) Ladd's Physiological Psychology, pp. 600, 607. (14) See Charles Hodge's Systematic Theology, II., pp. 47, 51, and Augustus H. Strong's Systematic Theology, pp. 244, 247. CHAPTER II. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. Representative Knowledge is knowledge of objects, qualities or relations not actually present to the senses, but represented by ideas. For example, I saw a black horse yesterday;, of wliicli I liad at the time immediate, or presentative, knowledge. To-day, I have a representa- tive idea of him, althongh he is absent. This idea is associated with other ideas and is capable of reproduction, recognition and recombination. We have already traced the history of the formation of such an idea, wdiich is the completed product of Sense-j^erception. We have now to inquire: (1) How ideas are connected in trains by Associ- ation ; (2) How they are reproduced in couBciousjiess by Phantasy; (3) How they are recognized by Memory; and (4) How they are reconnbined by Imagination. "'Ideas,'" says Lotze, "in contrast to sensations, is the name primarily given to those images arising from previous sensations, tvith which we meet in consciousness. This accords with the usage of speech ; we form an idea of what is absent, of what we do not perceive by the senses ; but we perceive by the senses what is pres- ent, — that of which, on just that very account, we do not need to form an idea. Ideas have their peculiar differences from sensa- tions. The idea of the brightest radiance does not shine, that of the intensest noise does not sound, that of the greatest torture pro- duces no pain ; while all this is true, however, the idea quite accu- rately represents the radiance, the sound, or the pain, which it does REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 69 not actually reproduce." ' When we look directly at an object, wo have an immediate knowledge of it, but carry away an " idea " of it. However much abused in common speech, the word "idea" con- tinues to be our best English word for representative knowledge. SEGTIOIT L ASSOCIATION. 1. The Relation of Impressions. Our sense-impressions are experienced in a succession of time and referred to an order of co-existence in space, so that they are not recalled as separate and single but associated in groups. AVe have already seen that the organization of percepts in certain definite relations is essential to perception. Accordingly, our ideas are con- nected, constitute a train of ideas and recur to conscious- ness in a certain order and relation. This aggregation of ideas into groups, or trains, is called the association of ideas. Ideas suggest one another in a manner with which we are all familiar. The idea of a hearse brings up ideas about death. The idea of a house suggests the appearance of its inmates. The first word of a song suggests the following words. Thus we find that all our ideas are connected in groups and trains, so that if one idea is uppermost in consciousness, others are almost certain to arise in connection with it and, as we often say, are suggested by it. It is this power of suggestion that we wish in the present section to illus- trate and explain. We shall see that it does not reside in ideas themselves but in the soul, which reproduces them. 2. The Laws of Association. As long ago as the time of Aristotle, it was known that representative ideas recur to consciousness according to 70 PSYCHOLOGY. certain laws. Aristotle^ laid down three, whicli have been generally acce2:>ted, as follows: (1) The Law of Resem- blance, according to which ideas that are similar are grouped together and suggest one another ; (2) The Law of Contiguity, according to which ideas which are related in sjDace or time, — as the parts of an object, or the succes- sive notes of a song, — suggest one another ; and (3) The Law of Contrast, according to which objects strikingly unlike, as light and darkness, suggest one another. Others have increased these three laws to ten, but without sufficient reason. The so-called Law of Redintegration reduces them to one. It was first suggested by St. Augus- tine (354-430), a distinguished Father of the Church, and is usually referred to by writers as Hamilton's reduction of the laws of association, but was rejected as inadequate by him. It may be formulated thus: " Cbjects that have leen lyrcvionsly united as parts of a smgle mental state, tend to recall or s\iggest one another.''^ In addition to these laws, which may be called Primary Laws of Associa- tion, there are certain Secondary Laws, so named because they seem to be less universal and more dej)endent upon circumstances than the Primary Laws. These are (1) The Law of Intensity, according to which ideas formed with special intensity of psychical action persist longest and recur most frequently in consciousness ; and (2) The Law of Repetition, according to which the more an idea is dwelt upon and repeated in thought, the more prominent and enduring it becomes. Aristotle's statement of the Laws of Association is very brief. The English philosopher, Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679), brought out the association l)etween "means and end," "cause and effect," "sign and thing signified." Both Aristotle and Hobbes refer these REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 71 conne<3tions to movements in the physical organism. John Locke treats of the connection of ideas as natural and necessary and yet does not rely upon association for any important explanations. David Hume really laid the foundations of the modern Associational Philosophy by resolving all our psychical experiences into sensations ^nd the associations between them. David Hartley (1705-1757), an English physician and writer, attempted to connect the psycholog- ical doctrines of Hume with physiological theories of his own, regard- ing certain vibrations in the medullary substance of the brain as the Bause of sensations, building up the whole fabric of knowledge and feeling out of elementary sensations by the aid of association. The speculations of Hartley were never widely accepted and are now treated with disregard on account of his imperfect psychological analyses and crude physiology. The Scotch philosopher, Thomas Brown (1778-1820), adopted the idea of association and, under the name of "suggestion," attempted to explain the natural history of certain forms of knowledge and even to account for results formerly attributed to distinct faculties, whose existence he in part denied. Another Scotch writer, James Mill, has treated the subject with more precision and delicacy of analysis and has striven to account for such ideas as those of "substance," "cause," "space," and "time" by showing that they are simply "inseparable associa- tions." His son, John Stuart Mill, has contributed much to English Associationism, following out even more extensively the doctrines of his father. The Senior Mill was a close student of Hartley and leaned toward Materialism, but John Stuart Mill repudiates the dependence of psychical states upon corresponding bodily states and considers the laws of association as purely psychological. He, ^ however, rejects the idea of an independent Ego, explaining the entire being of the soul as consisting in associated sensations. Alexander Bain rejects the idea of independent faculties and endeavors to explain the facts of consciousness as physiological effects which are combined by association so as to include the whole fabric of psychical life, the association of ideas being merely the ideal side of certain combinations in the substance of the brain. In his doctrine there is a return to physiological assumptions similar to those of Hartley. Herbert Spencer unites the physiological origin of conscious states with the doctrine of association, supplemented by the process of evolution. For him sensation, as a correlate of a physical 73 PSYCHOLOGY. process, is the elementary fact in the natural histor/ of mind. By the process of association, which corresponds to the grouping of nervous stimulations, the higher psychical experiences are evolved out of simple sensations. Thus the idea of association is made to serve the purpose of explaining the development of the Ego and of its faculties. 3. The Primary Laws of Association. A closer attention to the three primary laws of associa- tion is desirable. Let ns examine tliem in tlieir order. (1) The Law of Resemblance. — Similar ideas are fre- quently associated together. One beautiful landscape re- minds us of another. The face of a stranger recalls the face of an absent friend, because of the resemblance. A very cold day causes us to think of another like it years ago. There is no doubt that this is a general law of asso- ciation of ideas. What is the connection between the two ideas thus said to be associated, or brought into conscious- ness together ? Is it a physical or a psychical connection ? Is there a place in the brain where ideas are deposited, assorted according to their kind, so that the communica- tion of motion to one conveys it to another ? The crudity of this exj^lanation is evident the moment we consider {a) that Physiology and Anatomy give us no warrant for re- garding the brain as a storehouse where things are de- posited ; (h) that an idea is not a thing having physical properties ; and (6-) that an idea is a 'psycliicdl product, utterly inconceivable except as the state of a conscious being that at once possesses and produces it. The facts are more easily harmonized if we suppose that similar \deas occur together, because the conscious soul that first produced them is thrown into such a state as to reproduce them. The association of similar ideas would seem^ then, REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 73 ^,0 result from an activity of the soul rather than from any connection between ideas themselves. (2) The Law of Contiguity. — When things have been known as adjacent in space, or events as consecutive in time^ the ideas of them are associated. The idea of curl- ing smoke suggests the fire that produces it. The odor of a rose suggests the form and color of a rose. One letter in the alphabet suggests the next following. We repeat a verse easily in the natural order, with difficulty or not at all in the reverse order. What is the connection here ? Is it physical or psychical ? We can mentally reverse the order, and as soon as the mind has become accustomed to it, the new order is as easy as the old. The facility of transition is the result of a psychical habit. We conclude that in the case of contiguity also the connection is a psy- chical one, that is, one created by the mind through its own activity. (3) The Law of Contrast. — On a very warm day we wish for a cold one, on a very cold day we wish for a warm one. Our j^resent misery leads us to think of our former good fortune. There is no doubt that certain ideas are thus brought together in consciousness because they are unlike. Whatever physical explanation we might give of the law of resemblance certainly could not apply to the case of contrast. If similar ideas lie connected in the brain, then dissimilar ideas do not. But suppose we re- gard all ideas as products of the soul, resulting from the state into which it is thrown. Then the reaction from one state may occasion the production of its opposite, as if seeking an equilibrium. It is assumed by Bain "* and some other Associationists that each sense-impression is recorded in a cell of the brain. It leaves, so to 74 PSYCnOLOOY. speak, a scar upon its appropriate cell. The cells are connected by- nervous fibres so as to form circuits over which nervous force can travel as electricity travels over a system of telegraphic wires. The association of ideas, then, results from the order in which the cur- rent moves from cell to cell, producing in each a discharge which, on its subjective side, is a revival of the idea deposited there. Thus our whole mental life is the result of a succession of such nervous discharges in the brain. The order and connection of our ideas de- pend entirely upon the order in which these cells are discharged, and this upon the line of least resistance of the nervous current. The inadequacy of this conception of the mechanism of association is evi- dent from the following considerations : {a) It has never been proved that any particular "idea" has any definite location in any brain- cell ; {b) it has never been proved that the different cells have any such specific structure or properties as to enable them to retain for the length of time ideas are retained any impression whatever; (c) it has never been proved that consciousness of mental states follows any line of nervous current through the brain or that there are any restricted paths for such currents ; {d) the duality of the brain, it be- ing divided into twr* hemispheres, renders doubtful the distribution claimed; (e) all that we know about an "idea" leads us to doubt that it can be preserved in a cell of matter composed of atoms; (/) an "idea" is a psychical product, not a physical thing, and can- not be shown to exist outside of a conscious mind. 4. Tlie Secondary Laws of Association. These have been variously stated^ but they may be re- duced to the following two : (1) The Law of Intensity. — Ideas formed with sjiecial intensity of psychical action persist in the consciousness and endure longer than those formed with less intensity. This law is not universal. Our clearest and best formed ideas do not persist in the sense that they continue in con- sciousness, nor do they recur except when they are in con- nection with other kindred ideas. Still, it must be ad- mitted that, in general, such ideas are more prominent REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 75 than others. But they simply reveal a special energy of the soul in their formation and show the importance of the psychical factor. What the soul has once done with energy or interest it repeats with energy or interest on oc- casion. Feeling is a link of association and constitutes the important element in what we designate as ^'^ in- terest.'^ (2) The Law of Repetition. — A repeated act is easier to perform than an unaccustomed act. This is the law of habit. A lesson gone over with care many times can be repeated without the book, because the soul has acquired the habit of creating certain states of consciousness in a given order, and hence the repetition of the lesson becomes progressively easy. Too little notice has usually been taken of association through feeling, which as a constant element of experience is often the con- necting link between wholly dissimilar and otherwise wholly unas- sociated ideas. The following is a suggestive passage by an Ameri- can psychologist, John Dewey (1859- ), upon this point: "Feel- ing, in all cases, seems to serve as a matrix in which ideas are imbedded, and by which they are held together. There is no more permanent tie between ideas than this identity of emotion. The power of a flag to awaken patriotic ideas and resolves, of a cross to arouse religious meditation or devout action, is due to the tie of feeling rather than to that of an intellectual process The poet not only detects subtler analogies than other men and perceives the subtler link of identity where others see confusion and difference, but the form of his expression, his language, images, etc., are con- trolled by deeper unities. These unities are unities of feeling. The objects, the ideas, connected are perhaps remote from each other to intellect, but feeling fuses them. Unity of feeling gives artistic unity, wholeness of effect, to the composition, v ^en unity is want- ing there is no poetry; M'here the unity is one f>i reflection, purpose, or argument, we instinctively feel that the CL/mposifion approaches 76 • PSYCHOLOGY. 5. The Laws of Association Resolved. The resolution of the Laws of Association into the Law pf Ttedintegration fails to formulate the whole truths for it cannot be held that all similar ideas or all contrasted ideas have ever united to form one mental state. This Hamilton distinctly saw and enounced. A more success- ful attempt to resolve these laws into a single universal principle has been made by Porter : '^ The mind tends to act again more readily in a manner or form ivliich is sim- ilar to any in which it has acted hefore."^ This state- ment avoids the objection to the Law of Eedintegration, for in reproducing a given idea it is an easy transition to another similar to it, and also by reaction to one con- trasted with it. This conception of the facts and laws of association of ideas has the following advantages : (1) It finds the cause of the connection of ideas in a psychical, rather than a physical, agent. It having been shown that ideas are psychical products, it is vain to look for the cause of their connection in physiological processes or anatomical arrangements in the body. Physiology hav- ing failed to explain the origin of a simple perception, it must fail also in exj^laining the connection between ideas. (2) It finds the cause of the connection of ideas in that which confessedly connects them, the soul itself. Ideas without a conscious subject knowing and combining them can have no conceivable existence. Apart from the con- scious subject they do not even exist. Their connection is in consciousness, not in a physical substratum. Even upon a physiological hypothesis, ideas are not connected until they are brought together in consciousness. (Z) It avoids every form of grotesque and speculati REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 77 notion concerning the separate and substantive existence of ideas, wliicli every nuiterialistic liypotliesis must assume. Science knows nothing of a '^ theatre ^^ or ^^ show-place ^' of ideas, to borrow figures from Locke and Hume, nothing of the ^'■pigeon-holes of the mind/^ of the popular dialect, where ''^ideas''' are stored away like documents in a secre- tary. The anatomy of the brain reveals nothing of this kind. The minutest photography can copy no images of ideas in the brain. Ideas exist in the soul and for the soul and have no existence out of it. The doctrine that the soul reproduces its ideas, rids us of all unscientific hy- potheses about the ^^attractiveness of ideas for one an- other." All the phenomena of association are compre- hended in the one law of Habit, according to which the soul resumes those states which it has first assumed under the stimulation of sense-impressions. To speak of the " attractive force of ideas," — an expression used by the erudite Italian Fran9ois-IVlarie Zanotti, who (in 1747) employed it as the title of an ingenious book, — is indicative of the same unscientific condition of mind that is betrayed by such an ex- pression as, "Nature abhors a vacuum." It is a product of that tendency of mind which impels men to put abstractions in the place of concrete facts and inductions from them. To speak of "ideas" as " residing" in cells of the brain is a crudity of the same order. An ' ' idea, " as known to us, is not endowed with any property of attract- iveness for other ideas. Nor are ideas of such a nature that they can be referred to particular cells of the brain. My idea of a horse, for example, cannot be referred to any single cell. The cell is a liv- ing and constantly renewed material mass from which any image would soon be obliterated, if it were capable of receiving one, which it is not known to be. The act of combining images in any order at will, would be impossible, if images were imprinted in stationary and immovable cells in the brain. This mode of conception is a re- siduum of that primitive hypothesis of Democritus, that objects throw ofl images (eidola) which enter into the head through the 78 PSYCnOLOOY. organs of sense and serve us as representatives of the things them- selves. This mechanical conception still lingers in the idea of rep- resentative "impressions," fixed on cells as a seal on a tablet of wax. We cannot too often repeat that modern science recognizes nothing of this kind. The simplest sensation is a vital process requiring the reaction of the conscious subject. The simplest perception is a psy- chical result. An idea, then, is not a physical thing or the mark or property or product of a physical thing, but a product of the soul and non-existent except as the soul gives it being. f, Tlie Place of Association in Kepresentative Knowledge. The word ^^ Association'^ properly designates that con- nection of our ideas into gronps and trains which we con- stantly experience. Association is so far from explaining any thing, that it requires to be explained. The facts of association are not explained by the laws, which are mere generalizations, and imperfect ones, of the facts. These facts require for their explanation a cause that is able to produce them. The soul is the ideating agent, and the souFs tendency to repeat its own acts explax^is both the facts and the laws of association. The associational psy- chology, which would explain the nature of the soul by the composition of sensations, is inadequate and erroneous. No sensation can be explained without the soul, and the activity of the soul alone can explain the association of ideas. The theory of Associationism fails in three i:)ar- ticulars to give an account of the j^sychical facts : (1) It fails to explain the voluntary reproduction of ideas. We are conscious of the power to reproduce ideas, with cer- tain limitations, at will. We can reproduce ideas formed years ago and institute a connected train of representations. (2) It fails to explain the recognition of representative REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 79 ideas. AVe not only can reproduce, we can recognize cer- tain representative ideas as known hy us before. (3) It fails to explain the voluntary recombination of ideas. We have the power to combine ideas in new rela- tions, for example, to construct in the mind a building different from any we have seen and to fill it with objects which we have never seen together. The Association of Ideas does not give an account of these phenomena of our conscious experience. It fails, then, to explain the soul's life without the assumption of special powers belonging to the soul and exercised by it. We shall endeavor to describe the operation of these powers in the following sections. If the positions here taken with reference to Association and its laws should require further defense in order to render them accept- able to those otherwise instructed, the following statements may be helpful. It is here assumed that the soul is a real being endowed with powers, or faculties. This conception has not yet given place to the " Psychology without a soul " which is so interesting to cer- tain theorists. High authorities on the subject of "Physiological Psychology" concede this point. Ladd says: "Finally, then, the assumption that the mind is a real being, u'hich can he acted upon hj the brain and which can act on the hody through the hrcmi, is the 07ily one compatible with all the facts of experience.'" "^ It is the mind,, or soul, that knows ideas and in which ideas are associated. We should, then, seek the explanation of association in the soul, not in the brain. We find that explanation in the law of habit, or custom- ary activity of the soul. If the soul is a real being, habit may be at- tributed to it as well as to a physical organ. " Gassendi (1592-1655), a French philosopher, has very ingeniously compared habitude to a paper which easily resumes the folds according to which it was fold- ed before. The Scotch philosopher, Dugald Stewart (1753-1828), looked upon habitude as a result of the association of ideas. This is, however, the mistaking of the effect for the cause. He sees the close relation, even the identity, between both phenomena, habitude. 80 PSYCHOLOGY. and the association of ideas. He recognizes tliat the one phenom- enon is the more general and the other only a kind of particular in- stance of the sanie ; but he does not notice that the association of ideas is only one of the most frequent and remarkable forms of hab- itude If we now proceed to the definition of habit and hab- itude, we shall say, Habit is the disposition of a psycho-physical organism by which it is enabled on given (outer or inner) induce- ments directly to perform relatively similar functions, simple or complicated Habitude is, furthermore, the development of this disposition by the repetition of relatively similar impressions and the reactions following them." ^ 7. The Relation of Association to Eclucationc Association of ideas has a twofold bearing upon edu- cation, because of the im]3ortance (1) of associations formed by others and j^resented to the learner and (2) of associations formed by the learner himself. (1) Associations formed by others. — There are certain groups and trains of ideas that have been forming for many generations and constitute an inheritance of human- ity embodied in language, institutions, and laws. A great part of education consists in the acquisition of this accu- mulated mass of already organized knowledge. It is con- veyed through language, whose component words are signs of ideas and whose sentences stand for organized grouj^s of ideas. All speech and literature, from the simple sen- tences addressed to children to the most abstruse philo- sophical treatises, represent such associated ideas. Litera- ture has been called " condensed Anthropology,^^ because it contains the combinations of ideas of all the men whose wi'itings are preserved to us. These associations, or group- ings, of ideas are conveyed to the mind of the learner ready-made. Hence the educational meaning of the ex- pression, " Line upon line and precept upon precept.^' REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 81 The primer, the catechism, and the text-book are medi- ums of producing in others ready-made groups and trains of ideas that are believed to be of moral or scientific, that is, of educational, value. A psychical habit considered by the teacher desirable is induced in the learner by the study of certain combinations of ideas, until, finally, they be- come a part of the learner's mode of thinking. This is the very essence of the process of instruction (from the Latin instruere, to build in). (2) Associations formed by the learner. — Education is not simply a filling but, in part, an unfolding process. The learner must be trained to group his ideas according to natural principles. To this end, studies should be pur- sued {a) comparativeiy, so as to bring similar facts together at the same time, to be referred to a common principle ; {h) historically, so as to connect facts in an order of natu- ral contiguity, which will be a chronological and a causal order ; and {c) analytically, so as to bring to notice the im- portant differences or points of contrast. These methods are adapted to the cultivation of the Intellect and the strengthening of independent judgments, and are, there- fore, avoided by teachers who wish to impress ready-made formulas upon the mind rather than to develop its facul- ties. The intensity with which study is pursued affects both the reproduction of Avhat is learned and the increase of intellectual power. The dull and listless mind needs to be stirred and inspired, and the power of inspiration is, therefore, an essential quality in a good teacher. Enthu- siasm is awakened chiefly through the feelings, — the de- sires and affections ; — but, like every form of feeling, it is contagious and so may be imparted by one who possesses it and can hardly be generated by one who does not. 82 PSYCHOLOGY. Repetition is directly prodnotive of habitude, which it is tlio end of education as discipline to produce. For this reason, lessons should be gone over many times in propor- tion to their difficulty and reviews are important. It is, however, a mistake to substitute repetition for intensity in our studies and thus encourage lassitude with the hope of indefinite chances of making up in reviews. The value of language as an instrument of analysis is of the highest importance, and yet is often overlooked. Suppose I look out of ray window and see a black horse running swiftly. The whole picture, as presented by the sense of vision, constitutes one single image. It remains one and single until I have occasion to describe it in words. The moment I attempt to do so, an analytic process, or process of resolution into parts, is necessary. I must name the animal "horse," his color, "black," his act, "running," his speed, "swiftly," and I must indicate whether it is a definite or an indefi- nite black horse that runs, and so must use an article, "a" or "the." Putting all together, I say, "J. black liorse is running swiftly, ^^ a sentence in which my one visual image is broken up by five distinctions, each expressed in a separate word. There is truth in the joroverb, "No one knows a thing until he can tell it." The truth in it is, that expression in words increases our knowledge by compelling us to regard objects analytically. The study of lan- guage is, therefore, necessary to the proper study of things, and shouhl accompany it. Physical science without verbal aid is impos- sible. It required long linguistic training before the human species ever regarded any object scientifically, and no unlettered people has ever made any advance in the scientific study of nature. On the other hand, the study of words without things dooms the Intellect to stagnation. Having received a formula, if we rest in it, we make no advance. Most of the error in the world is perpetuated tlu-ough formulas which are accepted as authoritative without com- paring the combinations of words with the combinations of things. Error is usually nothing more than false associations of ideas. Truth is the correspondence of ideas, singly and in their combina- tions, with reality. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 83 In this section, on "Association," we have con- sidered :— 1. The jRclation of Impressions. 2. The Laws of Association, 3. The Priinary Laivs of Association. 4. The Secondary Laivs of Association. 5. The Latvs of Association Hesolvcd. 6. The Place of Associdtion in Representative K7101V ledge, 7. The Relation of Association to Education, References : (1) Lotze's Outlines of Psycliology, p. 28. (2) Aris- totle's De la Memoire ef de la Reminiscence, referred to in Hamil- ton's edition of Reid's Works, Note D***, where the history of the Doctrine of Association is fully discussed. (3) Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 435 and edition of Reid's Works, Note D***. (4) Bain's Body and 3Ii7id, pp. 110, 112. (5) Dewey's Psychology, pp. 106, 107. (6) Porter's Human Intellect, p. 293. (7) Ladd's Physiological Psychology, p. 667. (8) Radestock's Habit and its Importance in Education, pp. 29, 30. SEIGTION n. PHANTASY. 1. Definition and Nature of Phantasy. Phantasy (from the Greek cpavrd^Eiv, "pliantazein, to cause to appear) is the soul's power to reproduce ideas previously formed, in the absence of the objects them- selves. Sitting in my room, I can reproduce ideas, de- rived from Sense-perception, of the exterior of the build- ing, which I cannot now immediately know. This is an act of Phantasy. By many writers on this subject it would be called an act of Memory. The function of 84 PSYCHOLOGY. Memory is to recognize, not to reproduce. Inasmuch as reproduction may take place without recognition, Ave must ascribe to the soul a poAver of reproduction distinct from the j^ower of recognition, that is. Phantasy as distinct from Memory. **Many children," says Clarke, " especially very young children, possess the power, when they have closed their eyes in the dark, of surrounding themselves, by a simple act of volition, with a panorama of odd sights. The objects and persons evoked are not of a definite character, and are commonly queer and strange. They come in a throng, tumultuously, and disappear on opening the eyes. Most children who possess this power like to exercise it and see the show which they can call up in the darkness. Others are unwilling to exercise it, and are afraid to go to bed in a dark room, on account of the crowd of ugly beings which float in the air around them as they try to go to sleep." ^ De Quincey, the writer and critic, who was aware of this peculiarity in children, speaks of it in connection with the effects of opium upon himself : " The first notice," he says, " I had of any important change going on in this part of my phys- ical economy was from the reawakening of a state of eye generally incident to childhood or exalted states of irritability. I know not whether my reader is aware that many children, perhaps most, have a power of painting, as it Avere, upon the darkness all sorts of phan- toms ; in some that power is simply a mechanic affection of the eye; oth'^'rs have a voluntary or semi-voluntary power to dismiss or sum- mon them ; or, as a child once said to me, when I questioned him on this matter, ' I tell them to go, and they go ; but sometimes they come Avhen I don't tell them to come.' Whereupon I told him that he had almost as unlimited a command over apparitions as a Roman centurion over his soldiers. " ^ Dr. Clarke continues : "An acquaint- ance of the author, who is now between fifty and sixty years of age, says that in his childhood, after closing his eyes at night, he could, and often did, by an act of volition call troops of queer forms around him. As years passed on and manhood approached, he lost th& power of subjective vision, and though he has frequently tried since childhood to people the darkness in the old way, be has never been able to do so." REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 86 2. The Representative Idea. The character of the representative idea is variable, being much more like the original idea obtained through Sense-perception in some persons than in others. It tends to become more dim and faint also with the progress of age. An ingenious English scientific investigator, Fran- cis Galton (1822- ), has shown by means of answers to questions distributed to a large number of jiersons that what he calls ''visualization," or ability to reproduce images, varies widely among persons of the same race and age. Among the results of Gallon's inquiries are three of special interest : [a) Men accustomed to abstract thinking are weak in visualizing power ; {h) capacity for vivid reproduction of images does not vary with perceptual power in the use of the senses ; and (c) it does not vary with the tendency to dream. In gen- eral, we may say of the representative idea reproduced by Phantasy : (1) It is less vividly realized than the original. It is usually an exaggeration for one to say that ideas repro- duced are as vivid as perceived objects, still it is certain that in exceptional cases there is a near approach to such distinctness. (2) Representative ideas are recombined to represent complex objects only slowly and with a sense of effort, and the whole does not at once stand out in its complete- ness before consciousness. Let the learner try to recall the whole of any large building with which he is familiar and this will be illustrated. (3) The representative image usually contains fewer elements than the original. Sometimes only a mere frag- 86 psychology: ment remains. At other times every detail can, with time^ be reproduced. (4) The representative idea is in its nature an idea, not a thing, and although it may occasion an act of jorojection so that the resulting image is like a real object, still the idea, previous to such projection, is not like the original but simply rej^resents it. An idea of Galton's method may be gathered from the following directions, sent out to the persons questioned by him : " Before addressing yourself to any of the Questions on the oppo- site page, think of some definite object, — suppose it is your break- fast-table as you sat down to it this morning — and consider carefully the picture that rises in your mind's eye. "1. Illumination. — Is the image dim or fairly clear? Is ita brightness comparable to that of the actual scene ? "2. Definition. — Are all the objects pretty well defined at the same time ? or is the place of sharpest definition at any one moment more contracted than it is in a real scene ? *'3. Coloring. — Are the colors of the china, of the toast, bread- erust, mustard, meat, parsley, or whatever may have been on the table, quite distinct and natural ? " He goes on to say, " To my astonishment, I found that the great majority of the men of science to whom I first applied protested that mental imagery was unknown to them, and they looked on me as fanciful and fantastic in supposing that the words ' mental imagery ' really expressed what I believed everybody supposed them to mean. .... On the other hand, when I spoke to persons whom I met in general society, I found an entirely different disposition to prevail. Many men, and a yet larger immber of women, and many boys and girls, declared that they habitually saw mental imagery, and that it was perfectly distinct to them and full of color." He was led to conclude, ' ' that an over-ready perception of sharp mental pictures is antagonistic to the acquirement of habits of highly-generalized and abstract thought, especially when the steps of reasoning are carried on bywords as symbols."^ It is a profitable exercise for each member of the class to state how representative images seetti to him. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 87 3. The Modes of Reprotlucing Images. Altlioiigli ideas are not identical with single images, we can best approach the explanation of the operation of Phantasy in the reproduction of ideas by considering the three modes by which images may be reproduced. (1) Physical Stimulation. — The results of physical stim- ulation, that is, of original action upon the sense-organs in perception, sometimes persist in the nervous organism as ''^after-sensations^^ a considerable time after the original impression. Prolonged work with the microscope will cause images to live in the eye for many hours and to recur vividly for many days. The echoing of a song in the ear some time after the singing has ceased is another example. Sounds have been known to ^' ring '' in the ears for fifteen days after musical concerts. Now the question is. How long do these effects continue ? May they not continue forever ? They certainly do not continue forever in consciousness, for sights and sounds usually succeed one another without interference, and such conscious per- sistence is the exception. If physical stimulation disposes a part of the nervous organism to certain states, however, some new stimulation, not necessarily physical, may re- vive them. On the effect of physical stimulation, Lewes says : "According to the old psychologists, the sensorium is a ' chamber of images.' a spiritual picture-gallery, preserving all the scenes and events that have passed before sense ; no impression is ever lost ; it may fade into twilight, or vanish in the darkness, Init it keeps its place in the picture-gallery, and will be visible every time the closed shutters are re-opened. This is obviously no explanation, but a metaphorical re-statement of the fact observed. What calls for explanation is the contradiction of a continued persistence in consciousness when 88 PSYCHOLOGY. the persisting states are unconscious, and the capability these states have of suddenly, after many years, again starting into conscious- ness. In what sense can we admit this persistence ? The conscious states disappear ; the feelings as feelings no more exist after the subsidence of their excitation than the last year's roses exist. But something remains. The organism has traces of its past excitations and their re-excitation is easy. This is not only true of conscious experiences, it is true of experiences which at the time were uncon- scious. Every one knows how the objects we did not observe in passing along the street may be vividly seen when afterwards we recall that passing. There are also cases on record of idiots who under acute maladies have manifested a memory of events and ideas which previously they had not seemed to notice ; scarcely able to articulate a few words in their ordinary condition, they now speak fluently and eagerly of events which passed years ago. It is certain that the organism is modified by excitations ; but it is not at all cer- tain that the feelings which accompany or result from such excita- tions persist after the subsidence of their causes. To say that they still continue to exist in the mind is not more rational than to say that melodies continue to exist in the musical instrument after the sonorous vibrations have ceased, or that the complicated and fluent movements of a fencer continue to exist after he has laid aside the foils. By again striking the notes in the same order of succession each melody may be reproduced ; by again taking up the foil the fencer may once more go through the former graceful movements ; and so by stimulating the sensorium again its reactions may be re- produced. "^ (2) Physiological Stimulation. — Admitting that phys- ical stimulation lias jDre-disposed the organism to be thrown into certain conditions, we may accept the propo- sition of Lewes, that ^^the reinstatement of a perception is complete when the original conditions of that percep- tion are again in operation ; but its reinstatement in the form of an image of the object is only partial, because the objective sensible conditions are not reproduced." If precisely the conditions of perception were reinstated, REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 89 there would be a neiv perception. Assuming in the organ- ism an acquired facility for certain combinations, and adding the physiological stimulation of blood-supply, nervous currents, etc., for normal stimuli, and of opium, alcohol and other poisons, for abnormal stimuli, we may be able to account theoretically for a partial reinstatement of the conditions of perception, and thus explain the re- production of images. When that is done, however, we find ourselves where we were when we had reached the point in Sense-perception where a physiological condition becomes a psychical condition, where a state of the organ- ism becomes a state of consciousness. We saw there that a reaction of the self-conscious soul was necessary to the simplest sensation or perception, and so here we find it necessary to add to the physiological conditions of repro- duction a psychical reaction. The accumulation of observed facts is now so great and has been so fully subjected to analysis, that no well-informed person can doubt that activity of brain always accompanies activity of mind. This is shown {a) by the destruction of brain tissue in all intellectual operations, showing a physical decomposition as an accomp§iniment of psychical action ; (6) by the sense of fatigue and exhaustion in the nervous system after prolonged mental effort, and (c) by the renova- tion derived from rest and sleep as well as from certain specific nerve-foods. It may be further stated as beyond all doubt, that states of brain at all times affect and sometimes determine states of mind. This is proved (a) by the general relation between intel- lectual power and the size, form and quality of the brain and its attachments, microcephalism (abnormal smallness of brain) being a mark of idiocy and certain cerebral conformations usually indicat- ing mental deficiency; (Jb) by the results of vivisection and accident, showing that the absence or injury of certain parts of the brain and nervous system involves the total loss of certain psychical powers, or at least of their manifestation ; and (c) by diseases of the brain 90 PSYCHOLOGY. which give rise to impotency or confusion of mind, varying from slight delirium to raving insanity. These are simple facts of obser- vation which every form of psychical doctrine is compelled to recog- nize, however idealistic its tendencies may be, and to which it must also adjust itself, if it would demand scientific credit. (3) Psychical Stimulation. — The psychical reaction which we have seen to be necessary to any reproduction of ideas may itself reinstate in the organism some of the condi- tions of perception so as to recreate, as it were, a very complete image of an absent object. Our common ex- perience illustrates this power of tlie soul to determine conditions of the organism. Try to recall vividly the exterior of the building in which you are sitting, and you will have an example of the reproduction of a series of images in the brain. That the very same parts are af- fected as were involved in original perception, is main- tained by ^psychologists as widely removed in their expla- nations as Hamilton and Maudsley. The proof of this is thought to be found in the physical effects that follow certain ideas, as nausea in the stomach from certain dis- gusting ideas of food, or the setting of the teeth on edge by the idea of a squeaky saw, or the puckering of the lips from the idea of crab-apples. We not only induce cer- tain images in the j^hysical organism, but we have some power to banish them. The confusion and disorder of images in dreams and delirium, as compared with the order and rational direction of thought when consciousness is under voluntary control, show that connected thought is a psychical, not a cerebral, process. The power of psychical reaction is sometimes very great. Ni- colai, of Berlin, whose case (1791) has become well known, was able REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 91 to produce "ideational cerebral pictures," or phantoms, at will. The case of the German poet Goethe is still more interesting and is thus reported by himself: "As I entered my sister's house for dinner, I could scarcely trust my eyes, for I believed I saw before me a picture by Ostade so distinctly that it might have been hang- ing in a gallery. I saw here actualized the position of objects, the light and shade and brownish tints and exquisite harmony, and all which is so much admired in his pictures. This was the first time that I discovered, in so high a degree, the gift, which I afterwards used with more complete consciousness, of bringing before me the characteristics of this or that great artist, to whose works I had de- voted great attention. This faculty has given me great enjoyment, but it has also increased the desire of zealously indulging, from time to time, the exercise of a talent which nature seems to have prom- ised me." ^ " Dr. Wigan knew a painter who painted three hundred portraits, large and small, in one year. The seeming impossibility of such a feat was explained by the fact that he required only one sitting and painted with great facility. 'When a sitter came,' said he, ' I looked at him attentively for half an hour, sketching from time to time on the canvas. I wanted no more — I put away my eanvas and took another sitter. When I wished to resume my first portrait, I took the man and set him in the chair, where I saw him as distinctly as if he had been before me in his own proper pe7'son." ^ A somewhat similar story is related of the sculptor David. Re- quested to execute the bust of a dying woman, without exciting her alarm, he presented himself as a jeweller's man, offering some trinkets for her inspection, in the meantime so observing her features as to enable him to reproduce a good likeness.' Such cases are cer- tainly unusual and extraordinary, but they show that, in less degree, the soul has command over the organism in the reinstatement of images. 4. Hallucination. It is now easy to understand the nature of hallucina- tion. We have found illusion to be a false interpretation of a real sense-impression resulting from (a) the environ- ment, (h) the organism, or (c) expectation. Hallucination is a false perception, without any material basis, and orig- 92 PSTCHOLOOY. mates in the soul itself. It is not a false interpretation, but a false projection of an idea. It may or may not be accompanied with delusion, which is a false belief. We may have illusions and hallucinations without being de- luded, if we do not believe in them as real. Sully, in his work on "Illusions," cites some examples of hallu- cination. "Malebranche, for example, is said to have heard the voice of God calling him. Descartes says that, after a long con- finement, he was followed by an invisible person, calling him to pursue his search after truth. Dr. Johnson narrates that he once heard his absent mother calling hipi. Byron tells us that he was sometimes visited by spectres. Goethe records that he once saw an exact counterpart of himself coming towards him. . . . The hallu- cinations of the insane are but a fuller manifestation of forces that we see at work in normal life. . . . The hallucinations of in- sanity are due to a projection of mental images which have, owing to certain circumstances, gained a preternatural persistence and vividness. Sometimes it is the images that have been dwelt on with passionate longing before the disease, sometimes those which have grown most habitual through the mode of daily occupation, and sometimes those connected with some incident at or near the time of the commencement of the disease."^ The dividing-line between sanity and insanity is where illusions and hallucinations cease to be recognized as such and the person becomes the victim of delusion, that is, of false belief. 5. Unconscious Mental Modifications. Sip William Hamilton has developed Leibnitz's doctrine of '* obscure ideas " into a theory of *' unconscious activi- ties of mind," Avhich he employs to explain the reproduc- tion of ideas. According to him, ideas are possessions of the mind, but pass into a condition of ''latency " from which they are recalled into a condition of ^' conscious- ness. '"^ ^^ Extensive systems of knowledge may, in our ordinary state, lie latent in the mind beyond the sphere REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 93 of consciousness and will ; but in certain extraordinary states of organism, may again come forward into the liglit, and even engross the mind to the exclusion of its every- day possessions/'^ Hamilton's arguments for this doctrine are : {a) The ability to recall events long after every trace seems to have passed away ; {])) the minimum object visi- ble can be divided into parts which singly cannot be seen, but which must together affect the power of perception, so that every effect is made up of causes below conscious- ness ; (c) a practiced musician is not conscious of every movement or note in his music, and yet the whole is made up of these parts ; and {d) in a train of ideas we often leap over several without being conscious of them, but can afterward repeat the train with full consciousness. In answer to all this it seems necessary to say simply, that we are either conscious of an idea, or we are not ; if we are, it is not latent ; if we are not, it is not an element of mind at all. That which renders a state psychical is that we are conscious of it. Bascom seems to have refuted Hamilton in the following passage: ** Mental and physical phenomena are cut broadly and deeply apart by the fact that the one class appears exclusively in consciousness, and the other as exclusively out of consciousness. The last are actual or possible objects of some organ of perception, are some- where located in space, and thus open to the outside action of mind through the senses ; the first are within the mind, evincing their existence exclusively by their effects in consciousness. Not to ex- hibit anywhere, to any actual or supposable organ of sense, any phenomena, is, in the physical world, not to exist. Existence is affirmed only on the ground of some effects, however subtile, in sensible objects, and directly or indirectly, in organs of perception. We never hear of physical facts above or below space, beyond all possible tests of perception ; since such phenomena would be utterly unable to manifest this existence, to give any proof of it. . The very 94 PSYCHOLOGY. notion of physical being arises from tliat of })hysieal effects, under suitable circumstances open to observation. Thus also should men- tal phenomena be regarded. There is likewise only one known field for these, — consciousness. All, aside from physical facts, that oc- curs outside of this, is necessarily unknowable. An alleged fact, which is to be found anywhere as a fact, has but two avenues through which it can make itself known, — the senses and conscious- ness. ... To assert, therefore, the existence of other modifications or changes than those which respond to these two methods of know- ing, is to affirm some third field wherein events happen whose nature is utterly unknown to us, and of whose being we can at most have only an hypothetical and inferential knowledge." ^^ 6. Unconscious Cerebration. William B. Carpenter (1813-1885), an eminent English physiologist, has substituted for Hamilton's theory of ^^unconscious mental modifications ''' a theory of " uncon- scious cerebration," using the term '' cerebration " to sig- nify the automatic activity of the cerebrum, or brain. ^^ He holds that we are conscious of a part of the activities of the brain, of another j^art we are not conscious. The trains of ideas are, therefore, liable to interruption by a discontinuance of consciousness as to what some part of the brain is doing, and by the sudden emergence into consciousness of what the brain has done without our knowledge. We cannot deny the activity of the brain, but we may very well deny that its movements control our trains of ideas. We are conscious of the ability to direct the activities of the brain, as we have already shown. Besides, we have no evidence that the brain elaborates ^' ideas, 'Mvhich we have seen to be psychical products, and, therefore, psychical states, not cerebral states. The brain does, however, serve as the organ for producing ^^ mental imagery." REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 95 We shall return to tlic consideration of unconscious cerebration in our treatment of Will, in Part III, and need not discuss it any farther in this connection. The reason for this postponement of the subject is, that we shall find in the processes of elaborative knowl- edge and in the activities of Will grounds for believing that cerebra- tion does not wholly determine psychical states, but that certain psychical states determine cerebration. 7. Dreams and Reverie. In dreams and reverie^, we experience a desultory^, dis- connected^ and sometimes grotesque and disordered flow of ideas, wliich we may believe to be suggested by phys- ical causes. Excitement, hunger and indigestion are well known causes of dreams. In these phenomena there is consciousness, but not self-direction. The Will is usually powerless in dreams. But in our waking moments, when the Will is in command, the course of ideas is self-directed and rational. Our ideas are ordered for the accomplish- ment of conscious and self-formed purposes. This shows the prominence of the j^sychical factor and demonstrates that, although Phantasy employs the organic mechanism in reproducing ideas, it is a psychical, not an organic activity. Without the elements of consciousness and attention, ideas are not reproduced. Cerebration is an aid to vivid reproduction, but reproduction is, in the last analysis, a process of the soul. That cerebral action is but the servant of the soul is evident from another point of view. ' ' The vital power in many and cun- ning combinations precedes the nervous system. This system has been from the beginning simply the means to farther development in a direction previously indicated. The automatic action of the nervous system has preceded by a long period its conscious action. Consciousness has been superinduced on a system relatively complete withm itself. The higher is not added for the sake of the lower ; 96 PSYCHOLOGY. but the lower is put to the uses of the higher. So true is this that the organ of consciousness, even after it has been woven into tlie nervous web below it, can be removed, and a large portion of auto- matic action remains. That the last sensor state in its passage into the cerebrum, is not united causally to the first motor stimuli issuing from it, is probable : for {a) if this were true, the cerebrum would simply repeat the functions of lower ganglia ; and (&) in that case, consciousness would be a superfluous addition. Plainly, conscious- ness intervenes between the two in a way that interrupts simply automatic connections. In this fact lies its entire significancy." ^* 8. The Operation of Phantasy. Phantasy, as the power of reproducing ideas, is the power which the soul possesses to create in itself states similar to those experienced before, on the presentation of a suitable occasion. That occasion may be either : (1) The next previous state in which the soul finds itself, so that the soul reproduces an idea under the law of habit, reviving a mode of consciousness in which it has been before; or (2) A condition of the nervous system, furnishing a ground of reaction similar to that furnished by an orig- inal sense-impression; or (3) A new perception, placing the soul in conditions favorable for the reproduction of a given idea under the law of habit. In any case, it is a reaction of the conscious self that reproduces the idea and, through its connection with the physical organism, it can reinstate some, in rare instance? all, of the physical conditions of perception. As thus explained, ideas have no separate and substantive exist- ence, but are reproduced in consciousness by a reaction of the soul similar to that which originally produced them. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 9? This doctrine is a repudiation of every theory of retention, i&ystical, like Hamilton's " unconscious modifications of mind," or materialistic, like that of " unconscious cerebration." Ideas are not in any exact sense retained by the mind. If retained at all, they are retained out of the mind, but then they lose their character as ideas and so are not retained ideas. Dispositions of the brain may be retained, but ideas are not. Ideas are capable of being repro- duced, and when we have said that we have said all that is neces- sary. The soul possesses no special " conservative faculty," as Hamilton calls it, or " retentive faculty," as IVIcCosh calls it. The soul has power to rejjroduce ideas which do not exist anywhere except in itself when it reproduces them. The speculations about retention are the first crude gropings of thought after the explana- tion of the mystery which the poet has so beautifully expressed in this passage : " Who shall say, Whence are those thoughts, and whither tends their way ; The sudden images of vanished things That o'er the spirit flash, we know not why ? Tones from some broken harp's deserted strings- Warm sunset hues of summers long gone by— A rippling wave— the dashing of an oar— A flower-scent floating past our parent's door— A word— scarce noted in its hour, perchance. Yet back returning with a plaintive tone — A smile— a sunnj^ or a mournful glance Full of sweet meanings, now from this world flown ; Are not these mysteries, when to life they start. And press vain tears in gushes from the heart ? " In treating of Phantasy, we have spoken of " images," in order to convey definite impressions. This word is borrowed from the visual sense and usually suggests it. But we can reproduce ideas of all our past experiences, whether capable of reduction to the form of an image or not. " Music, when soft voices die. Vibrates in the memory ; Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken," — is a poetical presentation of this truth. It is not quite scientific. The mind cannot really revive an odor, but the idea of an odor. 98 PSYCHOLOGY. Th.'it a psychical reaction can reinstate some of the physical condi- tions, we liave already seen ; still the reproduction is ideal, not real. '* Odors " do, indeed, " live within the sense they quicken " for some time, but finally wholly die away, and no idealist can convince him- self that his idea of violets is able to overpower and destroy the realistic odors in his nostrils which he finds disgusting. We do not, really and physically, reproduce sensations, but ideas of sensations, that is, states of soul, not peripheral excitations of the organism. The idea of a sensation bears some relation to the sensation which it represents, else it would not be an idea of it, but it differs greatly from the sensation itself. Happily, our most painful sensations, like those of a terrible tooth-ache, pass away so that the idea of our past sufferings still serves to warn us of what is painful without keeping us in constant agony. We can reproduce more vivid ideas of our pleasurable than of our painful sensations. A reason for this is that, as we shall see in another connection, painful sensation in- volves an injury to the organism and pleasurable sensation is a nor- mal stimulation augmenting development, so that a sound organism cannot so easily reproduce abnormal as normal conditions. 9. The Relation of Phantasy to Education. Phantasy lias a twofold interest to the educator (1) be- cause of its aid to other powers, and (2) because it is itself capable of training. (1) Phantasy as an aid to other powers. — The continu- ity and progress of intellectual life depend entirely upon the reproduction of ideas. If we lived in present percep- tions only, Memory, Imagination, and all the Elaborative Powers would be without materials. Even in the study of the physical sciences, which seem the most objective and presentative of all the sciences, reproduction of ideas is necessary for those comparisons and classifications without which a science cannot exist. No science consists of a mere accumulation of facts, but of facts organized by the mind into a system of truth. More than half of any REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 99 science is a mental contribution. Phantasy is not less necessary for the orator and writer than for the man of science. They require in the hearer or reader a store of representative ideas so associated with words that language has the power to revive the images of things in the mind, as materials of persuasion, conviction, or entertainment. The young take great delight in the simplest tale, if it be full of concrete, graphic and image-awakening words. At every period of life there is a semi-sensuous pleasure in effective word-painting, which is nothing else than the awakening of Phantasy to activity through the power of language. Whoever possesses a mastery of this art invests his speech with a charm that redoubles the force of ab- stract thinking. (2) The Training of Phantasy. — Phantasy serves the highest purpose when it most accurately reproduces ideas of past experiences. It has its natural limitations and we resort to such aids as pictures, charts, diagrams, and fig- ures of speech, especially metaphor and simile, to assist us in reproducing past impressions in the form of images. A text-book is a collection of such helps to give us in brief space the substance of a science. A book on Geog- raphy is not like the earth^s surface, but it describes and, in a sense, represents to the learner the earth^s surface. Dependence upon diagrams and collocations of words on a page that may be '' held in the eye," serves us temporarily in passing an examination, but leaves us afterwards with no residuum of solid knowledge. It constitutes what is known among teachers as "cram." It should be dis- couraged in every form, though it has been defended by the short-sighted as stimulating the mind to rapid acqui- sition and so energizing the faculties. To be useful in 100 PSYCHOLOGY. the service of the higher faculties^ Phantasy must be trained to the accurate representation of things as they are. This requires deliberate and patient attention to details and to the real objects about which we study. After this^ charts, diagrams, summaries and other abbrevi- ated forms of representation are valuable in condensing and systematizing what we have learned in detail. The method of reciting from a page of text '^ photographed in the eye/' is as pernicious as any method can be. It is a substitution of mere images for connected thoughts. ** Phantasy " is the original form of the word " fancy," which the Ehzabethan dramatist, Ben Jonson, spells '' pliantsie"" in his hne, "Break, Phantsie, from thy cave of cloud." The ancient sense of the word justifies the use of it to designate the power of reproducing ideas. Lord Monboddo (1714-1779) says : "How various soever the pictures oi fancy, the materials, according to some, are all derived from sense ; so that the maxim, — Nihil est in intellectu nisi prius fuerit in sensu, — There is nothing in the intellect which had not been previously in the sense, — though not true of the intellect, holds with regard to the phantasy.'' ^^ Dugald Stewart thus distinguishes between Imagination and Fancy : "The office ot fancy is to collect materials for the imagination; and, therefore, the latter power presupposes the former, while the former does not nec- essarily suppose the latter. A man whose habits of association pre- sent to him, for illustrating or embellishing a subject, a number of resembling or analogous ideas, we call a man of fancy ; but for an effort of imagination, various other powers are necessary, particu- larly the powers of taste and judgment ; without which we can hope to produce nothing that will be a source of pleasure to others. It is the power of fancy which supplies the poet with metaphorical lan- guage, and with all the analogies which are the foundation of his allusions ; but it is the power of imagination that creates the com- plex scenes he describes and the fictitious characters he delineates. To fancy we apply the epithets of rich or luxuriant ; to imagination, REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLMpGE. \x)i those of beautiful or sublime." ^'^ Literary critics distinguisli between a " work of fancy" and a "work of imagination." Tlie ground of discrimination between tlie '-fanciful" and the "imaginative" in literature is excellently described in the following passage by the poet Wordsworth : " Fancy does not require that the materials which she makes use of should be susceptible of change in their constitution from her touch ; and, where they admit of modifica- tion, it is enough for her purpose if they be slight, limited and evan- escent. Directly the reverse of these are the desires and demands of the imagination. She recoils from everything but the plastic, the pliant and the indefinite." ^^ We shall resume the distinction be- tween Fancy and Imagination in our treatment of the latter power, in Section IV of this chapter. In this section, on Phantasy, we have considered :— 1, Definition and Nature of JPhantasy, 2, The Represefitative Idea. 3, Tlie modes of Mejjroducing Images, 4, Hallucination. 5, Unconscious Mental Modifications, 6, Unconscious Cerebration. 7, Dreams and Reverie. 8, The Operation of Phantasy. 9, The Melation of Phantasy to Education. References : (1) Clarke's Visions, p. 212. (2) De Quincey's Confess sions, p. 109. (3) Galton's Inquiry into Human FaculUj, pp. 84, 86. (4) Lewes' Problems of Life and Mind, Third Series, pp. 55, 56. (5) Goethe's Autobiography, p. 65. (6) Lewes' Problems, p. 455, (7) Id., p. 456. (8) Sully's Illusions, pp. 116, 117. (9) Hamilton's Lectures on lletaphysics, p. 236. (10) Bascom's Science of 3Iind, pp. 34, 35. (11) Carpenter's Mental Physiology, p. 514 et seq. (12) Bascom's Science of Mind, p. 398. (13) Monboddo's Ancient Metaphysics, Book II., Chapter 7. (14) Stewart's Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, Chapter 5. (15) Wordsworth's Preface to his Works, M PSYCHOLOGY, SECTION III. MEMORY. 1. Definition of Memory. Memory is the soul's power to recognize objects and ideas, or to know them again as having once been known. It ^presupposes PercejDtion and Phantasy. We may per- ceive objects and reproduce ideas known by us in the 23ast either with or without recognition. It adds greatly to the clearness of psychological analysis to consider ^Memory as the power of 7'ecognition alone, instead of regarding it as including conservative^ reproductive, and recognitive functions, as most psychologists do. All the older writers offer an imperfect analysis of representa- tive knowledge, attributing to Memory a great variety of functions. Even Sully, from whom we should expect careful analysis, treats ol the phenomena of Phantasy and Memory together, %vith little dis- crimination, under the awkward title, "Reproductive Imagination (Memory)," and says, " What is commonly understood by Memory, that is to say the recalling of particular impressions and pieces of knowledge (as distinguished from the retention of general truths) thus falls under the head of reproductive imagination."^ Dewey, who more clearly defines Memory as " knowledge of particular things once present, but no longer so," fails to attain perfect clear- ness, (1) because Memory may act upon something that is actually present, as when I recognize to-day the man I met yesterday ; (2) be- cause there may be " knowledge of particular things or events once present, but no longer so, " witJiout Memory, as when I have in con- sciousness the images of past objects and events revived by Phan- tasy and distinguish and reflect upon them, without recogniziiig them as ever having been known by me before. His definition ap- plies as well to reverie as it does to Memory. The true distinctior. he admits without embracing it in his definition, when he says ; REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 103 "The association of ideas only accounts for the preserice of the ob- ject or event. The other half is the reference of its present image to some past reality. In memory we re-cognize its presence ; i. e., we know that it has been a previous element of our experience. We place the image in the train of our past experiences, we give it some tempo7'al relation ; we refer it to some real object once perceived." ^ This is precisely the function of Memory. 2. Perfect and Imperfect Memory. There are perfect and imperfect acts of Memory. A perfect act of Memory would involve a reference of an object or an idea to its original grouping, that is, a recog- nition of the time and place when and tvliere the object or idea was known before. Most of our acts of Memory are imperfect ; that is, we know many objects and ideas as having been known before without being able to assign to them their precise times and places. For example, I meet a man on the street to-day and recognize his face as one that I have seen before. If I can tell when and where, I have two elements of knowledge in addition to the recog- nition of the face. An absolutely perfect act of Memory would involve the complete reinstatement of the psychical conditions that attended the organization of the item of knowledge at the time when it was first known. The German phrenologist, F. J. Gall (1758-1828), went so far as to assign to each faculty its own memory, and he has been followed in this by most modern physiological psychologists who treat Mem- ory as an attribute of the organism, assigning a memory to every part and organ of the body, as the " memory of the hand" in play- ing an instrument, because the hand seems to recall and repeat its previmis motions without conscious direction. This is a result that might naturally be expected from the traditional mode of treating Memory as a reproducing power. The moment we think of it only as a recognizing power, or power to know what has been known 104 PSYCHOLOGY. before, it is lifted out of this mere meclianical order and it is evi- (le?it that it can belong only to a conscious being, capable of know- ing and of knowing itself as having known. Nothing like this can 1)0 predicated of the hand, or the ear, or the eye, or any other bodily organ. When we speak of the musician's " memory of the ear" or the artist's " memory of the eye,'' we are using figurative language, poetical rather than scientific expressions. Many of these special powers depend upon a vivid Phantasy. That there are different de- grees of ability to reproduce ideas of different orders, there can be no doubt, one being able to reproduce visual and another auditory ideas better than others. Thus Mozart could write out the Miserere from hearing it twice in the Sistine Chapel, and Vernet could paint pictures from recalled impressions. The French psychologist, H. A. Taine (1828- ), has given numerous examples of special memo- ries, which he very ingeniously tries to explain on a physiological basis. ^ 3. Memory of Time. The element of time is essential to every act of Mem- ory. We recognize only what we have known before, that is, at some jieriod of past time. As we have seen, an act of Memory does not necessarily involve the knowledge of the definite time when an object or idea was previously known, but this is necessary in perfect acts of Memory. In order, then, that any act of Memory should occur, the conscious self must know itself as liaving been, as well as heing. It must also distinguish itself from the successive events, or conscious states, of the past. The concej^tion of the soul as ^^a series of sensations" renders any theory of Memory impossible. There are two aspects of time that have to be considered in giving definiteness to the time-element in Memory, (1) succession, or the order in which past knowledge has arisen, and (2) duration, or the continuance of an experience. Let us examine them sep- arately. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 105 (1) Succession. — We can assign to items of past knowl- edge a position in an order of snccession. How are Ave able to do this ? AYe might conceivably do it by reproduc- ing every element in our entire past experience. We evidently do not repeat our Avhole experience. We do, however, reproduce ideally certain portions of our past experience and assign to a given item of knowledge its position in that ideal order. Thus, if I wish to know ichcn I saw the man whose face I recognize to-day, I try to reproduce the ideas associated with this face until I come upon an order of ideas w^ith which I can connect the remembered face. I then locate my previous perception of it in that ideal order. In this I clearly distinguish self from the order of ideas and exemplify in self a relating activity that is not found in the spontaneous operation of Phantasy. (2) Duration. — We are able to know past experiences as having occupied a certain duration. Waiting for a train, we have, when the train arrives, some estimate of the *^ length of time ^^ during which we have been waiting. This estimate is, however, wholly relative and seems "long^" or ^'^ short ^^ according to circumstances. Time passes quickly when we are much interested, slowly when we have nothing to do but wait and expect. This seems to depend upon the extent to which the attention dwells on the time-relation. When we are occupied with objects and ideas, we take little note of time ; when we have nothing else to do, we concentrate attention upon the passing moments and thus time seems *^^ longer." The knowledge of duration implies self- duration, or the per- manence of self during the states of consciousness that succeed one another. 106 PSYCHOLOGY. Something has been done toward determining the amount of time required for acts of Memory, inchiding as inseparable the act of reproduction and the act of recognition. The results so far are not very satisfactory ; if. indeed, the conditions of the problem admit of their ever being entirely so. Those who are interested will find the following references useful : llibot's " German Psychology of To- jiay," pp. 272, 274; Galton's "Inquiry into Human Faculty," pp. U85, 202 ; and an article by an American psychologist, G. Stanley Hall (1845- ), in "Mind" for January, 1886. For "rhythm" in our knowledge of Time, see Dewey's "Psychology," pp. 185, 187. 4. Voluntary and Involuntary Memory. We distinguish between recollection and remembrance. The difference is that recollection is voluntary, remem- brance is involuntary. I am sometimes able to ^^ recollect " when I do not ^^ remember. ^^ Recollection is, however, something more than an act of Memory. It is a volun- tary act of reproduction followed by an act of recognition. For example, I wish to recall the name of a man whom I have met but whose name I do not at the moment remem- ber. I cannot directly reproduce it by an act of Will, for I do not know what it is. I fix the attention upon that which I suppose to be closely associated with what I am seeking, — the appearance of the man, the place where I met him, the person who introduced him, or whatever else is already in consciousness and is the ground of my want- ing the name. The reproductive power is thus energized and in the course of its operation the name occurs to con- sciousness and is recognized. That the reproductive and the recognitive processes are distinct, is evident from the fact that we finally select out of several possible names suggested by Phantasy one which we recognize as the one sought for. Sometimes the power to reproduce the name REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 107 is wanting^ and then we are unable to recollect. We may, however, remember it at some other time when the name is spontaneously or accidentally reproduced. AYe are often compelled to wait for the spontaneous action of the reproductive power. 5. Amnesia, or Loss of Memory. Amnesia (from the Greek a, alplia, implying depriva- tion, and uvrjacg, rnnesis, remembrance), or loss of Mem- ory, is a common phenomenon. It is sometimes total, sometimes partial, and both the total and partial losses are sometimes temporary and sometimes permanent. All forms are also sometimes sudden and sometimes progress- ive. The principal ascertained causes of amnesia are the following : (1) Wounds OP diseases affecting the brain. — Amnesia from these causes is generally sudden, unless the disease itself is progressive, in which case the amnesia may be progressive also, but it is frequently temporary and some- times only partial. "The Memory of particular classes of ideas is frequently de- stroyed ; that, for example, of a certain language or some other branch of knowledge, or of the patient's domestic or social relations. Thus, a case was recorded by Dr. Beattie, of a gentleman who after a blow on the head, found that he had lost his knowledge of Greek, but did not appear to have suffered in any other way. A similar case is that of a lad who lay for three days insensible in consequence of a severe blow on the head and found himself on recovering to have lost all the music he had learned, though nothing else had been thus 'knocked out of him.' .... One of the most curious exam- ples of this limited loss of Memory occurred in the case of Sir Wal- ter Scott, who having produced one of his best works under the pressure of severe illness was afterwards found to have forgotten 108 PSYCHOLOGY. entirely what he had thus constructed/''* Aphasia, agraphia, etc., are frequent forms of amnesia, in which s])()ken or written words are forgotten. A great number and variety of examples may be found in Ribot's "Diseases of Memory." In all these cases, there is, no doubt, injury to the nervous apparatus employed in reproduc- ing the images of Phantasy, so that a total or partial, a temporary or permanent loss of function is produced. The now classical case, quoted from Coleridge by Hamilton, of the servant-girl who sud- denly found herself in possession of learned languages, illustrates how sickness may restore as well as destroy the Memory of past impressions. 5 (2) Intoxicants and anaesthetics, in such doses as to interrupt the use of the reproductive powers, produce amnesia by producing a suspension of consciousness. The degree of amnesia from this cause is variable, but unless the dose is fatal, the loss of Memory is not per- manent. Alcohol, opium, and other substances of like character, which are stimulants in small doses and narcotics in large doses, have the effect finally of lowering the tone of the whole nervous system, and so of inducing weakness in all the processes connected with it. Per- manent deterioration of Memory is, therefore, likely to follow from the use of such substances, although the recovery from the stupefaction of a single debauch may seem complete. The effect of stimulants in undermining the psychical life is evident in cases of delirium tremens, in which the diseased centres of perception are stirred to the most extravagant vagaries in suggesting non-existent images. (3) Excessive weariness is a frequent cause of tempo- rary amnesia. Almost every one has experienced to some extent the influence of exhaustion upon the suspension of Memory. Sir Henry Holland tells us: "I descended on the same day two ^'ery deep mines in the Hartz Mountains, remaining some hours REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 109 ander ground in each. While in the second mine, and exhausted both from fatigue and inanition, I felt the utter impossibility of talking longer with the German Inspector who accompanied me. Every German w^ord and phrase deserted my recollection ; and it was not until I had taken food and wine and been some time at rest that I regained them." ^ (4) Old age is usually attended with progressive am- nesia. It is a noticeable fact, however, that the aged retain a perfect recollection of the events of their early lives, while the occurrences of the day fade from Memory in a very short time. Carpenter attempts to explain this by reference to the superior energy of the vital forces in the brain in youth and their decay with advancing years. "As the nutritive activity diminishes, the waste becomes more active than the renovation ; and it would seem that while (to use a commercial analogy) the ' old-established houses ' keep their ground, those later firms whose basis is less secure, are the first to crumble away, — the nutritive activity, which yet suffices to maintain the original structure, not being capable of keeping the subsequent additions in working order."'' The ready facility with which the "commercial analogy" fits in, though the subject-matter is so remote, suggests the fascination and the danger of all mere analogy, such as that upon which this explanation is built. Still, the theory serves to explain the disposition of a centre to reproduce states to which it has been accustomed, and does really help us to understand why the images of youth should be more easily repro- duced in the mind of an aged man than the images of yesterday. Another and important element is diminishing attention in later years. 6. Relation of Memory to the Organism. That Memory is dependent to some extent upon the condition of the nervous organism, is evident from the facts already observed. If Phantasy fails to reproduce ideas of the past. Memory must fail to recognize them- no PSYCHOLOGY. It has already been pointed out that Phantasy employs the nervous organism in reproducing images and yet with- out being wholly identified Avith the organic processes. The act of recognition, however, is a purely intellectual act, and the only dependence of Memory upon the organ- ism is involved in its dependence upon subsidiary opera- tions of Phantasy. Ladd repudiates all physiological explanations of Memory. "None of these physical conditions immediately concerns the very mental activity which constitutes the essence of conscious memory. What is explained, if any thing, is simply why I remember one thing rather than another — granting the mind's power to remember at all. This power is a spiritual activity wholly sui generis, and incapable of being conceived of as flowing out of any physical con- dition or mode of energy whatever. . . . We must insist upon the complete inability of physiology to suggest an explanation for con- scious memory, in so far as it is 3Iemory — that is, in so far as it most imperatively calls for explanation."^ 7. Relation of Memory to Other Powers. The dependence of all the higher j^owers of Intellect upon Memory hardly requires illustration. Our immedi- ate knowledge is confined to a very narrow circle of facts, and does not afford us a very extended illustration of general principles. It is through our recognition of past knowledge that we are able to interpret and under- stand even the little which the present furnishes. It is through acts of Memory that we are able to detect those resemblances upon which all our generalizations are built. Through the aid of Memory we exercise that function of Assimilation wdiich broadens and deepens the knowledge acquired through the function of Discrimination. It en- ables us to interpret the present in the light of the past. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLMDGE. IH It has frequently been affirmed that men of remarkable Memory are weak in other intellectual powers. Hamilton has denied and refuted this error, citing numerous examples in support of the posi- tion that a good Memory is necessary to intellectual greatness. Of Scaliger it was said, "He had read nothing (and what had he not read?) which he could not perfectly remember." Grotius and Pascal never forgot any thing they had ever read or thought. Leibnitz and Euler, both great mathematicians and men of the most original minds, could repeat the whole of the "-^neid." A. von Humboldt and Ritter, the geographer, possessed vast accumulations of con- crete facts with great powers of thought. Niebuhr in history and statistics, Goethe in literature, and art, and Agassiz in natural history, were men of remarkable Memory and distinguished general powers. 8. Relation of Memory to Education. It is evident that all the processes of education are dependent upon Memory^ for what we cannot recollect we cannot use for any intellectual purpose. How can the teacher develop the power of Memory in the learner ? (1) By directing his acquisition with reference to recogni- tion, and (3) by exercising him in the prompt and accu- rate recollection of what he has learned. (1) Acquisition with reference to Recognition. — Our ability to recall knowledge in the future depends largely upon the circumstances of its acquisition. Such physical conditions as general good health and vigor of brain are conducive to permanent acquisitions, while disease and weakness are obstructive. Psychical conditions, such as interest in the subject and attention to details, also affect the durability of knowledge. There is, moreover, the essential condition of sufficient time for distinct impres- sions to be made and for a certain amount of repetition. But when the conditions are all as favorable as possible. 112 PSYCHOLOGY. much depends upon the method of acquisition. There is a natural method and there is an artificial method. The natural method consists in annealing the new knowledge to the old by a process of assimilation, thus organizing it as a 23art of the mental life. The artificial method con- sists in holding the new knowledge hy itself, as something irrelevant to the integrity of the mental life, by some superficial or transient tie of association, such as the ap- pearance of a sentence on a page. A student of Geometry will sometimes recite a demonstration word for word as it appears in the book, reproducing the figure also, with the page before his mind^'s eye, and in a week will have no recollection of either demonstration or figure. The nat- ural method would require such an apprehension of the theorem and proof that the learner could use other lan- guage and a diiferent figure in the demonstration. The new knowledge would then be forced to enter into com- l)osition with previous knowledge and be a permanent acquisition. The real object in teaching Geometry is to implant in the mind (in addition to the discipline in rea- soning) a mathematical truth, not simply a string of words and a figure with particular letters. One cannot be justly expected to remember what he has never learned, and yet teachers sometimes hold students responsible for what they were never taught to learn. If the words of the book satisfy the teacher, the learner naturally infers that it is these alone which he is to acquire. Accordingly, he learns and forgets them in the same v/eek, and what he should have acquired he has never learned. (2) Practice in Recollection. — When the learner has acquired knowledge in the proper manner, the teacher may aid him by calling into exeroise his power of recol- REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 113 lection. The student must recite what he has learned, that is, give an account of his acquisition. However urgent reluctant learners may be in advocating other plans, no method of instruction can ever supersede the method of recitation, without intellectual loss. The act of recollection itself helps to fix knowledge and prepare it for future use, and until it is so prepared it is practically valueless, even if it can be said to have existence. The worst conceivable teacher, from an intellectual point of view, is one who does all the reciting, or a great part of it. A better service is to show the student how to recollect what he has studied by drawing out his knowledge, kindly but inexorably, along the lines of association which he ought to have established. If this process is a revelation of ignorance, it is certain that the learner has been either incapable or neglectful of the task assigned him. Mnemonic inventions, or systems of artificial memory, have been numerous and often ingenious. The earliest known is that of tlie Greek poet Simonides, who lived in the fifth century before Christ. Every subsequent age has been prolific in them. Some of them are the devices of charlatans to obtain money from the unsophisticated. They usually consist in a system of associations by which dates, names, etc., may be recalled. For example, every number may be denoted by a consonant, let us say, l = h, 8 = c or Tc, and 7 = d. Now by filling in with non-significant vowels, we may make a word, say hecJced, which ought to stand for 1887. In this manner, whole lists of dates may be learned by recalling words, instead of dates, which is supposed to be easier for some people. Sometimes mne- monic rhymes are employed and other contrivances of a similar nature. Usually more time and mental effort are employed in the cliildish occupation of forming artificial associations than would be required to learn the fact outright. Occasionally, however, there is real convenience, as in the familiar rhyme noting the number of days in the different months of the year, beginning, "Thirty days hath September," etc. 114 PSYCHOLOGY. In this section, on "Memory," we have consid- ered : — 1, Definition of Memory, 2, rerfect and Imperfect Mem,ory, 3, Memory of Time, 4k, Voluntary and Involuntary 3Iemory. 5, Amnesia, or Loss of Memory, 6, Relation of Memory to the Organism, 7, Relation of 3Iemory to Other Powers. S, Relation of 3Iemory to Education, References : (1) Sully's Outlines of Psychology, p. 223. (2) Dewey's Psychology, p. 179. (3) Taine On Intelligence, Part I., Book II., Chap. I. (4) Carpenter's Mental Physiology, pp. 443, 444. (5) Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, pp. 239, 240 ; quoted from Coleridge's Biographia Literaria, I., p. 117 ; and cited by Carpen- ter, Mental Physiology, pp. 437, 438. (6) Carpenter's Mental Phys- iology, p. 441. (7) Id., p. 442. (8) Ladd's Physiological Psychol- ogy, p. 556. SECTION lY. IMAGINATION. 1. Definition of Imagination. Imagination is the soul's power to reoombine represent-' ative ideas. The mere reiwoduction of ideas is the func- tion of Phantasy, as we have defined it. Recognition is the function of Memory. But in addition to the revival and remembrance of past experiences, we have the power to take the individual elements thus reinstated in con- sciousness and comMne tliem into neio forms. This, and not the mere imaging of ideas, is the proper sphere of Im- agination. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 115 The word " Imagination " has been variously defined and em- ployed by writers on Psychology, and, following these, we should find ourselves in the utmost confusion. Let us turn, then, for a description of the power, to those who have been conspicuous in tlie possession and use of it. Wordsworth says : " Imagination, in the sense of the poet, has no reference to images that are merely a faith- ful copy, existing in the mind, of absent external objects ; but is a word of higher import, denoting operations of the mind upon these objects and processes of creation or composition governed by fixed laws." ^ Shakespeare has the same idea of Imagination : "And as Imagination bodies forth The form of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name." Washington Irving observes : " It is the divine attribute of the Im- agination that it is irrepressible, unconfinable ; that, when the real world is shut out, it can create a world for itself, and with a necro- mantic power can conjure up glorious shapes and forms and brilliant visions, to make solitude populous and irradiate the gloom of the dungeon." ^ 3. The Creative Energy of Imagination. An act of Imagination may be (1) Associative, ft.s when one, having reproduced by Phantasy the ideas of a man and a horse, takes the horse^s head and places it upon the man^s shouklers, or regards them as twice, or half, the original size ; (2) Penetrative, as when one seeks out that element in an object which constitutes its heart and life and treats the ideas connected with it from this central starting-point ; or (3) Contemplative, as when one regards an object or idea in a peculiar manner and is by this led to employ other images and ideas in connection with it in conformity to this manner of regarding it. In all these forms of imaginative activity, creative energy, in varying degrees^ is exercised. " To imagine, in this high 116 PSYCHOLOGY. sense of the word, is to realize the ideal, to make intelligi- ble truths descend into the forms of visible nature, to rep- resent the invisible by the visible, the infinite by the finite/^ 3 This division of the activities of Imagination is taken from John Ruskin (1819- ), the English art critic and writer, whose views of the subject, involving many of the ideas previously enunciated by the English poet Leigh Hunt, in his essay on " Imagination and Fancy," are the most suggestive to be found in the English language. The student should read the whole of Section IL, in the second volume of "Modern Painters," where the distinctions between Im- agination Associative, Penetrative and Contemplative, are fully illustrated. For the benefit of those to whom the work may be inac- cessible, the following is transcribed, descriptive of the mode in which the highest imaginative activity seizes its materials: "It never stops at crusts or ashes, or outward images of any kind, it ploughs them all aside and plunges into the very central fiery heart, nothing else will content its spirituality. Whatever semblances and various outward shows and phases its subject may possess, go for nothing, it gets within all fence, cuts clown to the root, and drinks the very vital sap of that it deals with : once there, it is at liberty to throw up what new shoots it will, so always that the true juice and sap be in them, and to prune and twist them at its pleasure and bring them to fairer fruit than grew on the old tree ; but all this pruning and twisting is work that it likes not and often does ill ; its function and gift are the getting at the root, its nature and dignity depend on its holding things always by the heart. Take its hand from off the beating of that, and it will prophesy no longer ; it looks not in the eyes, it judges not by the voice, it describes not by the outward features ; all that it affirms, judges or describes, it affirms from within." 4 This prepares us for the following distinction between Imagina- tion and Fancy, so finely illustrated at length : " The entirely unim- aginative mind sees nothing of the object it has to dwell upon or describe and is, therefore, utterly unable, as it is blind itself, to set any thing before the eyes of the reader. The Fancy sees the outside, and is able to give a portrait of the outside, clear, brilliant and full REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 117 of detail. The Imagination sees the heart and inner nature and makes them felt, but is often obscure, mysterious and interrupted in its giving of outer detail. Take an instance. A writer with neither Imagination nor Fancy, describing a fair lip, does not see it, but thinks about it and about what is said of it, and calls it ' well, turned,' or 'rosy,' or 'delicate,' or 'lovely,' or aflicts us with some other quenching and chilling epithet. Now hear Fancy speak, — 'Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compared with that was next her chin, Some bee had stung it newly.' The real, red, bright being of the lip is there in a moment. But it is all outside ; no expression yet, no mind. Let us go a step farther with Warner, of fair Rosamond struck by Eleanor. ' With that she dashed her on the lips So dyed double red ; Hard was the heart that gave the blow, Soft were those lips that bled.' The tenderness of mind begins to mingle with the outside co\or, the Imagination is seen in its awakening. Next Shelley, — ' Lamp of life, thy lips are burning Through the veil that seems to hide them, As the radiant lines of morning Through thin clouds, ere they divide them.' There dawns the entire soul in that morning ; yet we may stop, if we choose, at the image still external, at the crimson clouds. The Im- agination is contemplative rather than penetrative. Last, hear Hamlet, — ' Here hung those lips that I have kissed, I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now, your gambols, your songs, your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar ? ' There is the essence of lip and the full power of the Imagination."^ It will be useful to the learner who would apply these distinctions in literary criticism, to add the following lines from Milton, in which the psychical activity employed in each line is marked at the end ; 118 PSYCHOLOGY. "Bring the rathe primrose, that forsaken dies, (Imagination) The tufted crow-toe and pale jessamine, (Nugatory) The white pink and the pansy freaked with jet, (Fancy) The glowing violet, (Imagination) The musk rose and the well-attired woodbine, (Fancy, vulgar) With cowslips wan, that hang the pensive head, (Imagination) And every flower that sad embroidery wears." (Mixed) « 3. Tlie Character of Imaginative Activity. Imaginative activity is purely psychical. It admits of no physiological explanation. It is not simple fusion of ideas, it is creative. Mix two colors, and you have a third color ; but you have destroyed the other two in the pro- duction of the third. In imaginative activity, we do not thus destroy the primary ideas of Phantasy which we employ in our recombinations. Here all physical analogy fails. The lower animals have Phantasy, but not Imagina- tion, as we have employed the term. They create or invent nothing. Hence, they are stationary, and a dog of the nineteenth century is like a dog of the first. Man alone possesses this higher power, which is the constructor of his arts, his sciences, his literatures, and his philosophies. Lotze has well illustrated this truth in the following passage : "We know that if the idea of ' blue,' and at the same time that of *red,' originates within us, the two by no means mingle and produce * violet.' Were this, however, to happen, then a third simple idea would merely have taken the place of the two others, and a com- parison of these two would have been made impossible by their van- ishing. Every comparison, and in general every relation between two elements (in this case, ' red ' and ' blue '), presupposes that both points of relation remain separate, and that an ideating activity passes over from the one, a, to the other, b, and at the same time becomes conscious of that alteration which it has experienced in this transition from the act of forming the idea of a to that of form- ing b." ' This truly creative process of Imagination is passed over in silence REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 119 by physiological psychologists, and their reticence seems to justify the acute remark of Ruskin, that those "who are constantly endeav- oring to fathom and explain the essence of the faculties of mind, are sure in the end to lose sight of all that cannot be explained." The only explanation of imaginative activity, in its higher forms, is a reference of it to a mode of being quite different from the functions of matter and motion. The reality of such a being is intellectually as acceptable and experimentally as certain as the existence of the ether mentally required as a ground of explanation of the phenomena of light. The belief in this hyper-organic reality is as little meta- physical as the physicist's belief in luminiferous ether, and, indeed, is more clearly demonstrable. 4. The Liimitations of Imagination. It is evident that the products of Imagination can con- tain no elements not originally furnished by presentation and reproduced by Phantasy. All the creations of art, therefore, however complex or admirable they may be, are only new combinations of old presentations modified by Imagination in their recombination. They have nothing new but their relations. These, however, are exceedingly varied, so that effects are produced which are entirely new. But even these relations are limited by certain laws of combination, for some forms of composition are ren- dered impossible by the nature of things and others by the requirements of taste. The various spheres of imag- inative production are thus governed by inflexible laws, which constitute the principles of the arts. " No human mind has ever conceived a new animal. For it is evident that in an animal every part implies all the rest ; that is, the form of the eye involves the form of the brow and nose, these the form of the forehead and lip, these of the head and chin, and so on, so that it is physically impossible to conceive of any one of these members, unless we conceive the relation it bears to the whole ani- 120 PSYCEOLOOY. mal ; and as this relation is necessary, certain and complicated, allowing of no license or inaccuracy, the Intellect utterly fails under the load, and is reduced to mere composition, putting the bird's wing on men's slioulders, or half tiie human body to lialf the horse's, in doing which there is no action of Imagination, but only of Fancy; tliough in the treatment and contemplation of the compound form there may be much Imagination."^ We may at once think of the centaur, a man's body on a horse's shoulders, as a product of Imagi- nation frequently employed in ancient poetry and even represented in sculpture. That there is no real Imagination here is evident from this : such a composite has two digestive and arterial systems, vio- lating all organic analogies. The centaur is, then, a work of Fancy, not of Imagination. The first designer of this monstrosity laid two images side by side, he did not grasp the idea of an animal and give that idea embodiment. Accordingly, we have the grotesque, some- thing unnatural and incongruous, fit to amuse children, not broadly and universally human in design. In literature, Munchausen's Tales are fanciful, rather than imaginative ; they amuse but do not satisfy. All high art aims at the ideal, which Imagination alone, not Fancy, can realize. 5. Varieties of Imagination. Imagination, in its true sense, has one main end, the pursuit of the ideal. It may, however, be applied to ends in a great variety of spheres. Without regarding the classification as exhaustive, but simply as illustrative, we may mention the following leading varieties : (1) Scientific Imagination is that form of imaginative activity in which the end is to realize more completely the true relations of things, under the guidance of Intellect. This appears as {a) Mathematical Imagination, when the aim is to realize the relations of space and number ; {I) iVIechanical Imagination, when the aim is to realize combinations of natural forces for the accomplishment of some practical end ; and (c) Philosophical Imagination, REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. ]21 when the aim is to realize the relations of cause and effect in the order of actual existence. Science in every form is much more than accumulated facts. It is the truth with regard to its subject-matter, and this involves a knowledge of the connection, significance, and laws of facts. It may seem at first thought that no department of knowledge is less in- debted to Imagination or less connected with its exercise than Mathematics. B,eflection, however, shows that it is quite other- wise. The mathematician deals with units of number and magni- tude represented by symbols, but signifying realities. The geometer, for example, deals with lines, surfaces, and solids whose actual and universal relations are to be demonstrated. If the student will attempt the demonstration of a geometrical theorem without any physical figure, depending entirely upon the contents of his mind, he will realize the relation of Imagination to mathematics. Some teachers have insisted upon this mode of demonstration as a means of discipline to Imagination. A few exercises in Inventional Geom- etry, pursued on this plan, will illustrate the value of a powerful Imagination to the geometer. The importance of Imagination to the inventor hardly requires discussion. To construct such a complex mechanism as a locomo- tive engine, demands Imagination not less than to paint a picture. Not only its parts, but their connections and inter-relations, must be distinctly apprehended. The locomotive was an idea in the mind of George Stephenson, and every element of it was evolved through a process of Imagination, before the first actual locomotive appeared before the eyes of men. So also the steam-boat existed in the mind of Robert Fulton and the telephone in that of Thomas A. Edison as inventions of Imagination destined to revolutionize the life of society. Philosophical Imagination searches after causes, striving to ex- plain phenomena. The operation of Imagination in the savage is very rudimentary, and so we must suppose it to have been in prima3val man. A storm-cloud gathers ; lightning flashes ; thunder rolls ; the rain pours out upon the earth. The observing savage wishes to know the cause of these phenomena. The untutored Hindu imagines that the elephant of Indra is concealed in the clouds and throws down waier gathered from the sea with his trunk. When observation has 122 PSYCHOLOGY, become more definite, it is noticed that vapor rises from the surface of water. It is observed that this occurs especially when heat i& present. Then, the resemblance between the vaporization of water and the formation of clouds is detected. Finally, the true connec- tion of phenomena is disclosed and clouds are imagined as the prod- ucts of the sun's action upon the ocean, drawing up moisture in a vaporized form, which falls when it is condensed. In like manner the Greek speaks of the lightning as the fiery bolt of Zeus. The electrical phenomena are much more difficult to bring into imagina- tive connection with ordinary events than those of evaporation. Long after Zeus is dethroned, men continue to think of lightning as a personally caused phenomenon and to connect it with the wrath of a deity. At last, the Imagination of a Franklin connects the phe- nomena of the thunderstorm with others already known and gathers electricity from the cloud as he would from the back of a cat in the dark. Thus most of the advances in scientific knowledge have been made by leaps of Imagination, afterward verified, and not by the Baconian method of aggregating facts. ^ Every mass of facts is dumb and unintelligible until the light of genius reveals their law. The scientific form of Imagination is akin to the poetic, as is illus- trated by the discoveries of the great poet Goethe, who was the fii'st to apply the idea of evolution to the vegetable kingdom in his doc- trine of the "metamorphosis of plants," though he has not been followed in his "doctrine of color." Faraday, Tyndall, Darwin, Ilelmholtz and other great leaders in science, have all been men of great Imagination. The faculty seems to assume a deeper tinge of the poetic tendency in the great system-makers of philosophy, like Plato, Fichte, Schelling and Hegel. While Imagination does not always attain to truth, it boldly soars for it and, even though, like the eagle, it sometimes misses its prey, it dwells in a lofty region. (2) Artistic Imagination is that form of imaginative ac- tivity ill which the eud is to realize such relations as will give pleasure to our aesthetic nature,, under the guidance of Sensibility. This appears in the fine arts as (a) Poet- ical, {h) Pictorial and {c) Architectural Imagination, accord- ing as it deals with words as tiie symbols of ideas, with lines and colors as representing appearances, or with REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 123 masses of matter as the constituents of buildings and similar structures. Painting and Sculpture are arts cre- ated by Pictorial Imagination, both having for their object the production of a picture ; the former in both lines and colors on a flat surface, the latter in lines alone but usually in three dimensions of space. Music is inseparably asso- ciated with Poetry, so that both must be considered as products of Poetic Imagination. The aim of Art is to satisfy feeling rather than to discover truth. There are laws which it cannot violate, because they are laws of Intellect and laws of Nature, and feeling is only one phase of that complex psychical life which includes inseparably the phenomena of knowing and feeling. We cannot feel that an object is beautiful when we know that it is not. There are not for Art the same infalli- ble tests and standards which are found for knowledge in the laws of thought. Feeling is subjective and personal, not objective and uni- versal, and while knowledge exists for all and may be shared by all, feeling exists for the individual only and is variable according to personal differences. Hence the old aphorism, " De gustihus non dis- putandum est,'" "There must be no disputing about tastes." The same productions are not equally pleasing to all. The consentient judgment of the majority of the cultivated is, therefore, the only standard and this, from the conditions of the case, must be variable. Artistic greatness consists in producing such creations of art as transcend the provincial and temporary taste and satisfy the best judges in all times and places. If we ask. Who are the best judges ? we can only answer, Those who have most culture. If we ask what "culture" is, we cannot do better than to adopt Matthew Arnold's definition, "The knowledge of the best that has been known and thought in the world." If all these ideas seem to move in a circle, as they confessedly do, it is because, as has been explained, this is the very nature of feeling, which is not a form of apprehending truth but of apprehending pleasure. The aim of the artist is to please. Whetner or not he succeeds, depends entirely upon his mood and ours. The essence of poetry is feeling. It may be defined, " Emotive 124 PSYCHOLOGY. ideas in emotive language." Emotive ideas are such as stir emotion. Emotive language is such as creates and satisfies emotion. It must be rhythmical, because all emotion moves in rhythm. Pause is unnatural until it is spent and compulsory pause is its annihilation. Hence, meter, rhyme and alliteration are the traits of poetic lan- guage. But we are here more concerned with the poetic faculty. This is Imagination. It is moved by feeling and in turn its move- ments awaken feeling. As the greatest of poets has said, — " The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of Imagination all compact." These are the three representatives of emotion in its three types of excitement : lunacy, love and poesy. Each is moved by ideas rather than objective realities ; the first to the wrong interpretation of his perceptions, the second to the glorification of his idealized entrancer, the third to the creation of ideal beings to meet the needs of his etherialized feelings. Shakespeare has opened the heart of a great poet in disclosing this association of emotive perturbation and imag- inative activity. It is through this union of Imagination and feeling that poetry and music are naturally connected. Music is pure rhythm without images. Words set to music suggest the images and both music and poetry reach their climax of perfection in this wedding of ideas to emotions. Hence all the earliest poems were sung or chanted ; hence every novice in reading verse instinctively sings it. Pictorial power has a wide range. It began with the rude scratching of an animal's outline upon a flat bone of its own body when the feast was over. It is difficult to trace the development of pictorial art by consecutive steps and quite unnecessary here. The perspective of painting is a late discovery and sculpture had ad- vanced far before painting had existence. Form first and color afterward, has been the order of progress. Painting rises out of sculpture and becomes distinct from it when it is seen that relief can be given by the use of lines and the distribution of shades, without actually employing three dimensions. The study of sculpture and painting throws great light upon psychologic history, for the prod- ucts of pictorial art reveal the prevailing sentiments of eveiy age whieli they represent. The connection with the religious sentiment is very close and the earliest plastic art was consecrated to the repro- REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 125 luction of the gods. The progress from the huge, grotesque aggre- gation of many heads upon one body in the old Indie divinities to the symmetrical and ideal human figures of the gods of Greece, marks a growth of Intellect, a refinement of Sensibility and a final dominance of Reason. Architecture is not identical with construction. In so far as it is a fine art, it is controlled by aesthetic feeling rather than by utility. The temples upon which its creative power first exerted itself were shrines built liy Imagination as the dwelling-places of Imagination. They were parts of a grand national cultus and every element of construction had relation to the central idea of the divinity whom the Imagination placed in the cella of the temple. All the other arts conspired to produce effects upon the worshipper. Sculpture and painting kept the idea of the indwelling deity before the eye, solemn chants conveyed it to the ear, incense wafted it to the nostril. Thus philosophy, which devised the national cultus of the ancient nations, clothed itself with the garment woven by Imagination and domi- nated through the power of visible forms the life of great peoples. Its doctrines assumed the garb of myths and theogonies and combined with the outward presentations to constitute a vast system accepted as real in the minds of men. All this was the work of no single master, but the spontaneous creation of nations. It illustrates the reality and the potency of the religious sentiment. It illustrates too the power of the sensuous in man to distort and pervert the religious sentiment itself and to substitute for communion of spirit a passion and veneration for form. (3) Ethical Imagination is that form of imaginative activity in which the end is to realize an ideal of char- acter and conduct such as will satisfy the convictions of conscience, under the guidance of Will. It is the essen- tial element in all personal and social advancement in morality and realization of the spiritual ideal. Everything ethical, or moral, has relation to some end. Some ends are recognized by men as right, others as wrong. It is possible for us to select pleasure, power, fame, or wealth as the end of life. A little reflection, however, shows that if an individual lives solely 126 PSYCHOLOGY. for such ,1 limltod and personal end, his life is not what it onght to he, is not ideally right. We have the power to imagine tlic itleal in character and conduct. This is the ethical ideal. It is that which ought to he. How we reach such ethical ideals and the ground of obligation on which they rest are topics to be discussed in treating the science of right conduct, or Ethics. "We have here simply to note the psychological fact that we can form such ideals, and when we come to treat of the ethical emotions, we shall see that we have feelings of obligation to conform practically in our lives to such ideals as these. We are accustomed to speak of books, pictures and other products of the Imagination as "good" or "bad," that is, from a moral as distinguished from an artistic point of view, accord- ing as they do or do not conform to moral ideals. A book or picture is not ' ' bad " because it is a work of Imagination, that is, because it is fiction, but because it has an immoral effect ujjon those who are led to admire it and sometimes, insensibly, when there is no con- scious admiration. Some of the best books in the world and nearly all the great pictures are products of Imagination, but of this faculty as pursuing and realizing the deepest truth, for the deepest truth is truth of principle, not of particular fact. In this clearer light, cer- tain works of fiction may be highly valued for their moral power, presenting as they do the ideal rather than the uctiial excellence of human attainment, and thus stimulating all with n desire to rf>.a.Uae the uuattained. 6. Expectation. A practically important application of Imagination ifi in expectation, or the imaginative anticipation of the future. It has sometimes been described as an " inverted memory," a projection of the experiences of the past into the future, with the time-relations inverted. This is very inadequate. We seldom expect the future to be exactly like the past. Nor is expectation a mere sj^tontaneous representation by means of Phantasy. Tlie true analysis is this : Phantasy revives former experiences ; Memory recognizes them as belonging to the sphere of reality, not mere images such REPRESENTA TTYE KNO WLEDGE. 127 as are presented in dreams ;, Iinagination singles out such as are likely to be repeated in the circumstances of the future that will probably exist. Thus, in making a jour- ney which we have made before, we may expect a repeti- tion of some of the former experiences with others left out and still others added, according to changed conditions. The whole process is one of idealization in which the soul is operative as a relating agent. If expectation were per- fect in details, we should possess the gift of prophecy, but our limitations are so numerous that the future is seldom just what we expect it to be. The unknown factors pre- vent our realizing our expectations. It is evklent that, if we may assume, as every rational mind does, tliat like causes will produce like effects, we possess the power of prophecy just in' proportion as we comprehend all the causes that will affect the future. Within a short range, this is sometimes possible. The prediction of the weather for the day may not be difficult in the morning to the "weather-wise" and to the scientific meteorologist approaches certainty. The prediction of an eclipse is a mattei of absolute certainty to the astronomer, for the factors influencing the event are few and simple, and the mathematical computation may be free from error. But if the stars should fall ! We are not pre- pared for this emergency ! 7. Uses of Iinagination. From what has preceded, it is apparent that no faculty of the soul is more useful than Imagination, as here un- derstood. Progress in science, art and morality, man's three most precious possessions, \^ould be impossible with- out it. The ordinary affairs of life require its constant aid ; for no plan could be formed, no invention could be originated, without it. All the leaders of the world's life have been men of Imagination. Its inventors have formed 128 PSYCHOLOGY. new combinations of forces, its generals and statesmen have foreseen new dispositions of nations and empires, its reformers have created ideals that Avere better than reali- ties, its writers have conceived of characters superior to living men and women, and its moralists have erected standards of virtue and nobility higher than those exist- ing about them. 8. The Dangers of Imagination. So powerful an activity must have its dangers both for the intellectual and the moral life. The ability to create, involves responsibility for what is created. The false and the inartistic are quite as possible for an imaginative mind as the true and artistic. There is a power in ideal presence to make us believe what Imagination produces. Errors of every kind are produced through the influence of Imagi- nation. The false in philosophy and the perverted in art are conspicuous in the world. One may come to despise the real because it is forbidding, and to love the romantic because it is fascinating. The mathematician sometimes demands for every assertion a proof like his demonstra- tion, without comprehension of the grounds of certitude in the realm of induction and probability. He imagines demonstration possible where it is not. The inventor may easily become a visionary and plunge himself and his fam- ily into poverty and distress. The philosopher may be a n.ere dreamer, substituting his ideas for realities. The artist may easily mistake personal idiosyncrasies of taste for canons of art. The moralist also may confuse propen- sities and obligations. The eccentricities of genius are notorious and the harmony and safety of life are often REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 129 sacrificed for whims and conceits. The stronger the imaginative tendency in a person, the more he needs the corrective of ^^ common sense, '^ the real as it is appre- hended by the majority, to sustain his equilibrium. 9. The Conditions of Imaginative Activity. There are certain conditions upon which the activity of Imagination depends. They are (1) The presence of images. — This depends upon the energy of Phantasy. In dull, inert minds few images are presented ; in narrow, specialized minds only a certain common-2:)lace class of images are awakened. Childhood, as a period of general activity, is favorable to the activity of Imagination, but it is likely to be unrestrained and undirected. (2) A decided tendency of mind. — Unless there be some strong tendency, awakened by desire for some end, the images remain stagnant or enter into mere chance combi- nation in what is called " reverie," in which a succession of ideas drifts aimlessly through consciousness. The mu- sician, the poet, the inventor often possess this tendency to a definite kind of activity in a marked degree and such an inborn aptitude is called " genius." It is usually a jwonderful capacity for one kind of activity and an equally remarkable unfitness for others. A less exalted special aptitude, yet sufficiently marked for notice, is what we mean by "talent." (3) A voluntary activity of mind. — Imagination usually involves a jiu^'posive action of the soul. No one writes a great poem or paints a great picture without purposing to do so. Imagination can be directed and its results are^ 130 PSYCHOLOGY. for that reason, regarded as more expressive of Individ a- ality or personality tlian any otlier power which we have so far considei-ed. It is this that renders the artist, whether in literature or pictorial art, responsible for the character of his Avork and justifies our condemnation of the man, as well as the work, when the moral element of a production is censurable. 10. Relation of Imagination to Education. Imagination, as recombining power, is essentially re- lated to the whole range of mental development. No study can be pursued without its aid. No productive act of mind can be carried on without it. Upon the training which it receives depends the quality of most intellectnal efforts. We shall consider, then, (1) Imagination in Ac- quisition, (2) Imagination in Production, and (3) the Training of Imagination. (1) Imagination in Acquisition. — All study, whether of words or things, involves the use of Imagination. Read- ing or listening, if we gather from words their meaning, we must exercise Imagination in combining into mental pictures the elements suggested by separate words, in order to have before our consciousness what the writer or speaker had before his. We instantly realize the differ- ence between a clear and a confused style by the degree of ease we have in translating sentences into mental equiv- alents. The facility with which different minds appre- hend meaning depends largely upon the liveliness of Im- agination. But even when we study things directly, Imagination is necessary to complete our immediate knowledge. As we have seen in the examination of Sense- REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 131 perception^ the senses give us but fragments of knowledge, to be combined and unified in the mind. We see but one half of the moon, yet we must think of that which appears to be a circular disc as if it were a sphere. The heart of things is always hidden, yet it is the inner constitution that holds the true meaning of everything. No one can study Chemistry, Physics, Astronomy, or Geology without Imagination. It is a relating activity of the mind and things are known truly only in their relations. Atoms and molecules are not visible, the correlation of forces sannot be seen, the solar system as a whole is not pre- sented to the senses, geological periods can be jiictured only in succession. History is not a collection of names and dates, but a panorama of persons and events. With- out historical Imagination, history cannot be well written or com2)reliended. Hence it is that we learn history more truly from Sir Walter Scott's romances than from the Saxon Chronicle, and every great historian must first re- create the past by Imagination in his own mind before he can give it trutliful portraiture. (2) Imagination in Production. — Education aims to im- part to the learner some measure of productive power. In school this usually takes the form of composition-writ- ing. Here Imagination is essential. The gras^:) of a sub- ject, the formation of a plan, the search for materials, the arrangement of them for a purpose, the selection of figures of speech, the use of language as a medium of expres- sion, — all involve imaginative activity. The difference between Phantasy and Imagination is easily discernible here. The mind of a child or a youth is usually filled with images in great variety and profusion, but the diffi- culty is to combine these into new and coherent wholes. 132 PSYCnOLOGY. Evidently, reproductive power* falls far short of recombin- ing power. The relating activity is demanded, the ability to seize upon a central idea and array others about it in an orderly and original manner, so as to realize a purpose and give meaning to a ^^rod notion. Khetorical practice is an effectual intellectual disci|)line. It affords, perhaps, the best single means of training Imagination which is possible to school exercises. (3) The Training of Imagination. — The characteristic of an active but undisciplined mind is exuberance, a superfluity of images and ideas, disorderly, conflicting, lacking in unity and design, like the rank vegetable growth of a tropical forest. The aim of the educator is to prune away redundancies and introduce unity and order. The best means of training are the contemplation and analysis of masterpieces on the one hand, and per- sonal constructive effort on the other. The former exer- cise a refining and directing influence upon the learner, illustrating what is to be avoided and what is to be at- tained in a work of Imagination. Constructive work may then be undertaken. The judicious teacher will be able to apply the principles of correct taste in detail and thus, by kindly criticism, gradually cultivate the right use of Imagination. The wider one's knowledge of facts and princij^les, the more vitally does the mind seize a central idea and employ it in construction ; hence, the more sober and informing studies are useful in giving insight and harmony to the operations of Imagination. Spontaneity in mental creation is the sign of genius, but it usually needs to be directed and enlightened, in order to attain real excellence. Even genius, therefore, is compelled to observe certain rules and principles. REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 133 In this Section, on " Imagination," we have con- sidered : — 1, Definition of Imagination, 2, The Creative Energy of Imagination, 3, T/ie Character of Imaginative Activity* 4, The Limitations of Imagination. 5, Varieties of Imagination* O. Expectation, 7. Uses of Imagination, 8. The Danger's of Imagination, 9. The Conditions of Imaginative Activity, 10, lielation of Imagination to Education, B,EFEREXCES : (1) Wordsworth's Preface to his Works, I. (3) Ir- ving's Sketch Book. (3) Fleming's Vocabulary, p. 241. (4) Rus- kin's Modern Painters, II., p. 161. (5) Id., pp. 163, 164. (6) Id., p. 165. (7) Lotze's Outli7ies of Psychology, p. 40. (8) Ruskin's Modern Pai7iters, II., p. 150. (9) S«e Jevoiis' PriJiciples of Science, pp. 576, 577. CHAPTEH IIL ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. Elaborative knowledge consists of presentative and repre- sentative knowledge worked out by purely psychical proc- esses into higher and more general forms. The iiiime is derived from the Latin elahordre, to work out, and implies a special intellectual activity. It is identical with what is known as " thought," as distinguished from presentative and representative knowledge. It is some- times called also " discursive knowledge," because it is derived by a discursive process. It includes what was designated by Locke, " reflection," or the process of examining the simpler elements of knowledge and deriv- ing from them more general truth. It is based upon certain "laws of thought," which constitute the subject- matter of \jOgiQ,, and will be discussed later on. It derives its validity from the certainty of the presentative and rep- resentative elements of knowledge employed and the faith- ful observance of the laws of thought. Elaborative knowl= edge is worked out by three processes, as follows : (1) Conception, which is the formation of abstract or general ideas ; (2) Judgment, which is the assertion of agreement or disagreement between ideas ; and (3) Reasoning, which is a process of inference, or arrangement of ideas and judg- ments according to the laws of thought. These processes will constitute the topics of the sections in this Chapter. ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 135 SEGTION L CONCEPTION. 1. Use of the Word "Conception." The word *' Conception " has been used in a variety of senses. It is applied to the power, the process, and the product of forming abstract or general ideas, but recent writers have chosen the word " Concept " to designate the product of Conception. In the older works on the sub- ject, the word is used with the widest latitude of meaning. AVe shall use it for the i)OiDer and the process only, the poverty of language compelling us to this ambiguity. 2. The Process of Conception. Conception (from the I^atin con, with, and capere, to take, implying a taking or grasping together) is the process of forming abstract or general ideas. The nature of Conception can be best exhibited by an examination of the process by which such ideas are formed. This process consists of the following steps : (1) Presentation. — I walk out into a garden and my senses reveal a great number of objects. By Sense-per- ception I know them as individuals. I perceive a tree. I observe that it has branches and leaves. I see curved and straight lines, brown leaves and green leaves. I hear the wind blowing through the tree-tops. I pick up a branch and touch it. I put a leaf into my mouth and taste it. These are presentations of Sense-perception. Up to this point all the objects are known only as par tic- 136 PSYCHOLOGY. ular individuals. Here the elaborative process is fur- nished with its materials. (2) Comparison. — When I have perceived these objects, 1 am led to observe that they have both resemblances and differences. I continue this act of comparison, comparing the objects with one another and noticing their likenesses and unlikenesses. I find that some leaves are green, others are brown, others are yellow, others are red. I find that some are nearly circular, some are oval, some are pointed. I look again and find that all are thin and possess little veins branching out from one another, or from a common stem. (3) Abstraction. — Having discovered that thinness and a veined structure are characteristic of many leaves, I con- sider these qualities (q)art from the other peculiarities of form and color and shape. In other words, I abstract (from the Latin ah, off, and tr alter e, to draw), or draw off, for further attention, the common qualities of the objects examined. This is called abstraction. (4) Generalization. — I now find that these qualities, thinness and a veined structure, belong to the objects examined in common, and I see no leaf without them. They become to my mind the general qualities of that class of objects. When I have them in mind, I do not now think of any particular leaf in the garden, but thin- ness and a veined structure come to be regarded by me as belonging to a7iy leaf whatever. I thus generalize (from the Latin genus, kind or class), or extend to the whole class, the results of my observation, and this process is called generalization. (5) Denomination. — After having formed this general notion of a leaf, I may consider it for a time without ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 137 afl&xing any name by which to distinguish it from other ideas, to recognize it in the future, or to communicate it to others. But if I leave the newly formed notion, ab- stracted from all definite material associations, unmarked by any sign, I shall not be able to reproduce it for my^ owri use or to communicate it to another person. The reason of this is ^^lain. A general notion, abstract idea, or concept, such as we have now formed, is not a form of sense - knowledge, and cannot be easily reproduced and recognized. A name is a form of sense-knowledge, and can be reproduced like any other image or concrete idea. In order to provide an instrument for farther thinking, and in order to convey my meaning to another person, I call my concept by the word ^^ leafy'' which is an audi])le and visible sense-sign, or symbol, and this step is denomination, or naming. Such a word is called a "general term." It is evident that language has its origin with a being capable of abstraction. The creatures lower in the scale of being than man have no language, in the sense of articulate and rational speech, and they have no power of rational thinking. They are wanting in the necessary instrument of thought, languag^e, and they are without it because they have not the intellectual power to create it.^ We do not name until we have abstracted. The objects of Sense-perception, as particular individuals, arc too rich in qualities to afford a ground for naming. Suppose we wish to name a horse. We must fit the name to his qualities. We cannot find a name to designate them all. We find a name for him by abstracting a leading quality or action. The horse runs. Our Aryan ancestors seized upon this action of the horse and named him, " that-whicJi-runs." A dominant character- istic is thus singled out from the multiplicity of qualities and upon this the name is based. The roots of words in all languages are ab- stract words, that is, names of qualities, or actions, not of things. Philologists tell us that general ideas precede all speech. We have 138 PSYCHOLOGY. seen the reason of it. If language proceeds thus from abstraction and generalization, we understand why it is designated by the word Tieyeiv, which signifies to choose, to gather ; for, in order to form the root which names the thing, there is necessary a prevailing choice eliminating all the secondary characters by an act of Will. Thus, we see, the development of language is simply the development of Reason, -tnd the wise Greeks designated both speech and reason by ^he same word, Voyoq. The utterances of the animals are purely sub- jective, expressive of feeling, not of ideas. Animals emit noises, — emotional sounds, such as grunts, snorts and growls, — ^but not words. Their knowledge is of particulars only, not of general qualities ab- stracted from their concrete combinations. They have no abstract ideas and, hence, do not reason as men do. The word becomes to man the instrument of thought and of its expression. It makes possible to him tradition and history, so that the past lives in the present and the thoughts of each generation become the heritage of the next. Thus science and philosophy, which are impossible to brutes, become the possessions of men. These topics and many others of psychological interest are fully and ably discussed by the eminent philologist F. Max Miiller (1823- ), in his " Science of Thought." 3. The Completed Concept. Having traced the formation of a concept^ we may now ask. What, precisely, is the nature of this product ? We may note the following negative and positive traits : (1) A Concept is not a Percept. — A percept is i7idivid- ual and its union with other percepts is either a new indi- vidual whole or a collection of individuals, while a concept is general. (2) A Concept is not an Image. — The difference between a concept and an image is as marked as that between a concept and a percept. An image is an individual or a group of individuals. (3) A Concept combines similar qualities. — A concept unites in one form of knowledge the resemblances which ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. \U^ have been observed in individual objects, and thus em- braces what is common to them all. The lower animals observe resemblances and differences as well as man, and, by their superior keenness of sense, sometimes more read- ily ; but a brute is not known to have the power to com- bine like qualities into a unit of knowledge, a concept. (4) A Concept is purely relative. — It has no meaning except in relation to all the individual things for which it stands. It is variously called a " general notion," an " ab- stract idea," or a " universal," because it applies equally well to any one of a class or kind of individuals. (5) A Concept is an incomplete form of Knowledge. — As a concejit combines only certain common, or general, qualities, it excludes all those which are peculiar to indi- viduals and not common to a class. Thus, if I think of a "\Qid'^ as something '^'^thin and of a veined structure," I have an incomplete knowledge of a ^''leaf " in that con- cept ; for every actual "\Q?d" has, in addition to these common qualities, some definite outline, size, and color, which must be added, to form a complete knowledge of it. Galton has suggested that abstract ideas, or concepts, may be regarded as " generic images " or "composite pictures." He has illustrated his meaning by means of " composite photographs," or photographs in which a great number — sometimes as many as forty or fifty — of individual faces are combined in one composite picture. He says : "I doubt whether 'abstract idea ' is a correct phrase in many of the cases in which it is used, and whether ' cumulative idea ' would not be more appropriate. The ideal faces obtained by the method of composite portraiture appear to have a great deal in com- mon with these so-called abstract ideas. The composite portraits consist of numerous superimposed pictures, forming a cumulative result in which the features that are common to all the likenesses are clearly seen ; those that are common to few are relatively faint and are more or less overlooked, while those that are peculiar to 140 PSYCHOLOGY. single individuals leave no sensible trace at all." ^ This is an ingen- ious suggestion and, without doubt, there are mental composites, formed by Imagination, which correspond closely to the composite portraits produced by photography ; but every such composite image has a definite size, form and color, while a concept, or abstract idea, has no definite size, form or color. Our concept " horse," for exam- ple, stands for all the individuals of the horse kind, from a diminu- tive Shetland pony to a ponderous Clydesdale draught-horse, and of any color between the extremes of white and black. A concept is something far more attenuated and immaterial than any composite picture which can be produced. We have, however, a mental ten- dency to substitute an image for a concept in our actual thinking. The image thus substituted is rather some well-known individual than a composite. Galton has himself illustrated this in another place. "Suppose," says he, "a person suddenly to accost another with the following words : ' I want to tell you about a hoat.^ What is the idea that the word ' boat ' would be likely to call up ? I tried the experiment with this result. One person, a young lady, said that she immediately saw the image of a rather large boat pushing off from the shore, and that it was full of ladies and gentlemen, the ladies being dressed in white and blue. It is obvious that a tendency to give so specific an interpretation to a general word is absolutely opposed to philosophic thought. Another person, who was accus- tomed to philosophize, said that the word ' boat ' had aroused no definite image, because he had purposely held his mind in suspense. He had exerted himself not to lapse into any one of the special ideas that he felt the word ' boat ' was ready to call up, such as a skiff, wherry, barge, launch, punt or dingy. Much more did he refuse to think of any one of these with any particular freight or from any particular point of view. A habit of suppressing mental imagery must, therefore, characterize men who deal much with abstract ideas ; and, as the power of dealing easily and firmly with these ideas is the surest criterion of a high order of intellect, we should expect the visualizing faculty would be starved by disuse among philosophers, and this is precisely what I found on inquiry to be the case."^ This goes to show that abstract ideas are not images of any kind, but that persons with untrained minds use concrete images in place of them, thus missing that accuracy and precision of thought which they are fitted to serve. ELABOBATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 141 4. The Keality of Concepts. The abstract nature of concepts has led to a long and even bitter controversy on the following questions : (1) Have concepts^ or universals, external existence, or do they exist in the mind only ? (2) If they have external existence, are they corporeal or incorjjoreal? (3) Are they separable from sensible objects, or do they subsist in these only ? Four principal views have been held on these questions, the last very recently presented, which are known as Realism, Nominalism, Conceptualism and Eelationism. We shall examine these views separately. 5. Kealism. There are two classes of Realists, differing quite materi- ally in their views. (1) The Extreme Realists maintain the doctrine attrib- uted to Plato (430-347, B.C.), that universals have exist- ence separate from and independent of individual objects. For example, in addition to this, that, and the other par- ticular mountain, visible to the sense, there is, really ex- isting, mountain in the abstract. They hold that uni- versals existed before individuals. Their view is expressed in the Latin formula, Universalia ante rem, "Universals before the thing. ^^ The doctrine rests on Plato^s opinion that ideas are eternal. (2) The Moderate Realists accept the opinion of Aris- totle (384-322, B.C.), tliat, while universals have a real existence, they exist not before, but only in, individual objects. Their view is expressed in the formula, Uni' versalia in re^ '^^^ Universals in the thing." 142 PSYCHOLOGY. A brief historic outline of these doctrines may bo of interest in throwing light upon the nature of concepts. Socrates (469-396, B.C.) insisted upon the importance of forming concepts of things, in order to rise from the particular to the universal, and advocated their objective validity. He did nothing, however, to explain the nature, of concepts. Plato advocated more strenuously than Socrates the necessity of this higher knowledge, and taught that we must rise from the individual and transitory to the idea of the universal and eternal. This ultimate object of intelligence is the idea {tj Idea or TO eldoc). Plato does not teach where ideas, in this transcendental sense, exist, but he regards them as the only true realities and eternal in their nature. Things and events are only the passing shadows of ideas. The highest idea is that of God. Plato ascribes to ideas wonderful powers and personifies them, in order to make his philos- ophy acceptable to the common mind. He treats them sometimes in a poetic rather than a scientific manner, and finally gives to his teach- ing the qualities of intellectual romance. Aristotle regards individ- ual things as the only truly real beings, or primary entities {npurai ovalai) as he calls them. Concepts, or universals, he calls secondary entities (Sevrepac ovalat), and distinguishes them from primary enti- ties as foi^m is distinguished from matter. The form exists i7i the matter, but is 7iot the matter. Form is universal, matter is particu- lar. Aristotle wished to avoid that hypostasizing of universals which he criticised in Plato, that is, the regarding universals as real, apart from the individuals to which they belong. His followers, however, were not attentive to this point, and came at last to consider uni- versals as realities in a sense not intended by their master. 6. Nominalism. The Nominalists hold that individuals only have real existence, and that universals are merely groups of resem- blances held together by a name. Universals have no existence, except as names signifying certain qualities be- longing in common to many things. Hobbes says : '' The universality of one name to many things hath been the cause that men think the things themselves are universal ; ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 143 and so seriously contend tliat^ besides Peter and John and all the rest of the men that are^ have been, or shall be in the world, there is something else that we call iikdi, viz.: 7nan in g cue nil, deceiving themselves by taking the uni- versal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth/^ The view of the Nominalists is expressed by the formula, TJniveraalia j^ost rem, ''Universals ctfter the thing." They are represented among modern philosophers by the Associational School of thinkers. Realism of some kind was practically universal among the thinkers of antiquity. Tlic Sophists of Greece, prior to the time of Socrates, had fallen into a practical Nominalism, attempting as they did to prove anything and treating words as standing for nothing fixed and absolute. With this exception, philosophers regarded general notions as representative of realities. In the third century of the Christiaii era, Porphyry (233-304) wrote a preface to Aristotle's work on the Categories, which was translated into Latin from the Greek by Boethius (470-526). This was the occasion of the controversy on the nature of universals. Dogmatic theology allied itself to Realism. The earlier disputes were between the extreme and the moderate Realists, Scotus Erigena (died, 888) reviving the extreme Realism of Plato in opposition to the moderate Realism of the Aristotelians which was generally accepted by theologians. Roscellinus of Com- piegne (f. 1092), though probably not the originator of Nominalism, taught that universals have no substantive or objective existence, but are mere names, and was compelled to recant this alleged heresy, which was regarded as involving a false doctrine of the Trinity. The doctrine of Nominalism, thus placed under ecclesiastical ban, was destined to become a prevailing position of philosophers. The view of Hobbes has been already given in the quotation cited above. It has become the inheritance of the Associational School of thought as represented by Hume, the two Mills, Bain and Spencer. J. S. Mill admits, however, a double significance of a concept, its denotation, or the things noted by the name, answering to the extension of a term, and its connotation, or the attributes noted by the name, answering to the comprehension of a term, as treated by logicians. 144 PSYCHOLOGY. 7. Conceptualism. The Conceptualists agree with the Nominalists in hold- ing that individuals only have real or objective existence, and that universals exist in the mind only, being formed by abstracting and generalizing common qualities. In addi- tion to the name, however, they believe in the existence of a mental state which they call a " concept/^ The formula of the Nominalists, UniversaUa 2^ost rem, ''^Universals after the thing, ^^ also expresses the doctrine of Conceptualists. Conceptualism is commonly accepted by modern philoso- phers. It vindicates itself against Eealism by the impossi- bility of explaining just ivliat and where the objective realities said to correspond to universals are ; and against Nominalism by the facts that in consciousness we regard the imjyort of the name, that is, the concept, rather than the name itself ; and that knowledge of concepts iwecedes and determines the selection of names to designate them. The historic origin of Conceptualism is somewhat obscure. Some have attributed it to Abeiard (1079-1142), but William of Occam (died, 1347) seems to have been the chief, if not the earliest, repre- sentative of Conceptualism. Conceptualism bears such close relation to Nominalism that Conceptualists are sometimes called " Moderate ^Nominalists." Locke, Reid and Brown were Conceptualists. The closeness of the alliance between Nominalism and Conceptualism is striking when we consider that Hamilton sometimes speaks like a Nominalist (in his * ' Lectures on Metaphysics "), and sometimes like a Conceptualist (in his "Lectures on Logic"). Kant is so remote from Realism that he regards the concept as entirely the product of the mind and yet he is not a Nominalist, because he regards the con- cept as mentally real apart from the name. For him the concept [Begriff) is the product of the Understanding ( Verstatid) and derives its form entirely from the inhereiit forms of the mind. This is the origin of Kant's Subjectivism, denying any knowledge whatever of ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDaE. 145 Reality {Noumenon) and considering it as pertaining wholly to ap- pearances {Phenomena). Quantity, Quality, Cause, Space and Time are, for Kant, simply suhjedive forms of the mind itself, without objective existence. J. G. Fichte (1762-1814) pushed this view so far as to regard the entire universe as an evolution of the Ego by a pro- 3ess of thinking. G. W. F. Hegel (1770-1831) went still farther and I denied all reality, both subjective and objective, except the process • of thought itself. The inconsistency and emptiness of Phenomenal- ism, tlie logical result of Nominalism and Conceptualism in the En- glish and German philosophies emanating from Hume and Kant and their followers, have been ably pointed out by an American thinker, Francis E. Abbot (1836- )." 8. Relationism. This is a new formulation of the truth that is divided between the three forms of doctrine already stated. It teaches that universals are (1) objective relations of resem- hlance among objectively existing things ; (2) s^ibjective concepts of these relations^ determined in the mind by the relations themselves ; and, (3) names, rej^resentative both of the relations and the concepts, and applicable to them both. The formula of this theory is, Ujiiversalia inter res, "Universals among things. ^^ This theory has been formulated by Francis E. Abbot, in whose words the statement of doctrine above is given. Brown long ago said that he would prefer to be called a *' Relationist," but the clear and satisfactory formulation of Relationism is due to Abbot. He holds that the doctrine rests upon the following self-evident prop- ositions : ''(1) Relations are absolutely inseparable from their terms. (2) The relations of things are absolutely inseparable from the things themselves. (3) The relations of things must exist where the things themselves are, whether objectively in the cosmos or subjectively in the mind. (4) If things exist objectively, their relations must exist objectively ; but if their relations are merely subjective, the things themselves must be merely subjective. (5) There is no logical alter- native between affirming the objectivity of relations in and with 146 PSYCHOLOGY. that of things and denymg the objectivity of things in and with that of relations. For instance, a triangle consists of six elements, tliree sides and three angles. The sides are things ; the angles are rela- tions—relations of greater or less divergence between the sides. If the sides exist objectively, the angles must exist objectively also ; but if the angles are merely subjective, so must the sides be also. To affirm that the sides are objective realities, even as incognizable things-in-themselves, while yet the angles, as relations, have only a subjective existence, is the ne plus ultra of logical absurdity. Yet Kantianism, Nominalism, and all Nominalistic philosophy (if they admit so much as the bare possibility of the existence of things-in- themselves) are driven irresistibly to this conclusion."^ This writer clearly shows that, if we deny objective reality, we are finally shut up to Phenomenalism and this must assume the form of Individual Idealism, that is, our knowledge is of mental states alone, and all objective science becomes impossible. The scientific method, on the contrary, assumes the reality of things and of their relations, and scientific verification presents a confirmation of this assump- tion in the positive results of established science. The breach be- tween Subjectivism in philosophy and Objectivism in science is now so wide that Science and Philosophy seem to represent two hostile camps, or perhaps it would be more exact to say, two separate fields of labor where men are working by diametrically opposite methods. The unsophisticated soul finds no antagonism between its internal experiences and its objective knowledge ; but, on the contrary, be- lieves that they are in perfect harmony. This shows that Subjectiv- ism in philosophy is not the product of a true psychological method but of a theory of ideas that is false from the beginning. Mill and Kant have both done violence to the facts of consciousness in shut-', ting the soul in from the objective world. We find relations where the things related are, whether within or outside of self. Self knows that it is circumscribed and yet knows verifiable relations beyond itself. The primary affirmations of the soul (see page 6) formulate our conscious knowledge upon this point. 9. Perfect and Imperfect Concepts. If a concept is a system of relations apprehended by the mind, it is evident that it may be perfect or imperfect. ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 147 according as the actual relations between things are or are not fully and correctly apprehended. A concept may be too tvidc, that is, it may include more than the real things include ; or it may be too narroio, that is, it may include less. Our concepts are formed with varying degrees of attention to real relations. We connect certain concepts with certain words without fully comprehending the sig- nification of the words. Words themselves are ambiguous, at times including less and at times more of meaning than at others. We are thus exposed to liabilities of error in our processes of judgment and reasoning based on con- cepts. It is the business of Logic, as the science of thought, to lay down rules to guide us in the practical use of concepts, and hence we need not enter farther upon this subject here. 10. The Hypostasizing of Abstract Ideas. A quality abstracted from a thing and the relations existing between things, held in the mind as concepts, are not tilings, but qualities and relations. " Greenness,"' for example, is not a tiling, but a quality. '^ Man,"" taken as a general term, is not a thing, but a concept, or system of relations of resemblance found among men. Ilobbes was right in holding that it is nonsense to speak of '"man"" apart from all individual men. The doctrine of Relation- ism holds that universals have reality only among the things related, that is, as relations. Evidently, then, we fall into a great error if we regard a concept, or system of relations, as if it were a substantial thing. Such a mental act is called the hypostasizing of an idea (from the Greek vtto, hypo, under, and iGrrjiM, histemi, to stand), implying the mental placing of a substance under the ab- 148 PSYCHOLOGY. stract idea. Many erroneous systems of tliouglit originate from this radical error of treating an abstract quality or a system of relations as if it had independent and substan- tial existence. We have a tendency to treat every name as if it stood for a thing, whereas many names stand for qual- ities or relations which have no separate existence ajoart from the things of which they are qualities or relations. As an example of this error in philosophy, take Hegel's use of what he calls " the idea,''' which, as an empty abstraction, is capable of being used in any way one fancies without apparent inconsistency so long as one is strictly logical in the treatment of it, that is, so long as self-contradictions are not introduced. Out of this "»^ea," which is so void of positive content that it can be identified with non-being, he manages by logical jugglery to evolve the universe! This is the great vice of Metaphysics, — the treatment of abstract ideas as ij they ivere realities. 11. Relation of Conception to Education. Conception has a threefold relation to education : (1) it is essential to scientific knowledge ; (2) it is developed by linguistic study ; and (3) it affords a criterion for the order of study. (1) Scientific Knowledge. — Science is not an accumula- tion of isolated facts, but of facts grouped in classes, ex- plained by laws, and expressed by a suitable nomenclature. Abstraction and generalization are necessary for the forma- tion of classes, the discovery of laws, and the application of names. The mere inspection of plants, for example, does not give us Botany. It is by comparison of numerous plants that we reach the principles of classification. Ab- straction is then employed in classing separate plants under these principles. By generalization we reach universal ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 149 terms Vi hicli designate all the plants of a kind, or class. This is the method of every science. AVe begin with par- ticular individuals and proceed to general terms and uni- versal principles. Only by the aid of Conception, then, can we attain to scientific knowledge of any subject. (2) Linguistic Study. — Language is made up largely of general terms. All common nouns are such class-names. ^'^ Plant," ^^ animal,^' ^''triangle," etc., are examples. All such adjectives as ''^red,^^ ^'^round,^' ^'^vital,''^ etc., are names of qualities which, when abstracted by the mind from their concrete combinations, are designated by abstract nouns, such as ^^ redness/^ '^'^ roundness," '''' vitality," etc. All study of language is practice in conceiving such classes, such qualities and such abstractions. This study is, then, especially adapted to cultivate the conceptual powers. It calls forth the comparative habit. The effort to grasp the meaning of a new word involves the exercise of all the powers of Conception. Only ^'^ word-dividing man," in Homer's phrase, is capable of thinking. The ready-made concepts of those who have formed a language are con- veyed to the mind through the attentive study of it. Hence it is that the learning of a highly complex and elaborate language, like the Latin or the Greek, has been held to be conducive to a development of the concei^tual powers and the best preparation for scientific pursuits. (3) The Order of Studies. — In the relations already pointed out, we find a criterion for the order of studies. There are in the growth of the mind three essential processes : {a) apjpreliensioyi of facts, {!)) analysis of facts, and (c) synthesis of relations. In Botany, for ex- ample, plants must be seen, their parts separated and their common characteristics united under general terms. 150 PSYGHOLOGY. Sncli concepts as ^^ nutrition/" ''^ growth,^' ^^ reproduc- tion/^ etc., are reached by this method. But the second and third jirocesses are dependent upon language. We have ah'eady seen that language is an instrument of analysis (p. 82). The whole of the present section has shown how it is an instrument of synthesis. The method is always the same. Hence we infer that the earliest studies should be presentative and linguistic at the same time. After a sufficient number of facts has been accu- mulated and language has trained the mind in the use of conceptual power and furnished the instrument for it, the more abstract studies should follow, such as Physical Science (as organized knowledge), the Lower Mathe- matics, Grammar, Ehetoric, Logic, the Higher Mathe- matics, Psychology, etc. Physical Geography is much more abstract than Descri|)tive Geography, Algebra than Arithmetic, and Grammar than Literature. Written Arithmetic and Algebra are much less abstract than Grammar, as most students find, for in these mathe- matical studies there is always a concrete symbol before the eye, which is treated according to a fixed rule, while in Grammar the classification embraced in the ^'^ parts of speech '' is really based on the structure of thought itself. This subject is of such practical interest to the teacher that it seems desirable to treat it more fully. Alexander Bain, in his " Education as a Science," has offered some very valuable sug- gestions on the method of developing abstract ideas in the mind of a learner. For the benefit of those to whom the book may be inaccessible, the following epitome is attempted. (1) The selection of particulars sJiould he such as to shoiv all extreme varieties. Iden- tical instances are not to be accumulated. They merely burden the mind, while A^arying instances show the quality under every combi- nation. To bring home the abstract property of ' ' roundness," or ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 151 the circle, we must present concrete examples in varying size, color, material, situation and circumstances. We cannot exhibit a circle in the abstract, and we cannot present a real one without size ; but we can reduce the material to a thin black line on a white ground. Two or three such, of different sizes, with one made of white on black ground and one in some other color would eliminate everything but the single property of form. This comes as near to abstracting the property as the case allows. (2) The instances cited should briiig out the agreements. If the objects are material, they should be simi- larly and symmetrically situated to the eye. The comparison of numbers, as three, four, five, should be in rows side by side, to begin with. (3) The accumulation should he continuoiis, until the effect is produced. We should put everything else aside for the time. An overwhelming concentration at one point is needed. Any instance that is perplexing in itself will prove distracting. Examples that are very interesting from other points of view produce the same dis- tracting effect. Contrast is useful. To create in the mind the abstract idea of a circle, we may place it beside an oval. (4) A sud' den flash of agreemeiit hetween things in many respects different, is what is aimed at. When among things that have formerly been regarded as different, there is a sudden flash of agreement, the minj is arrested and pleased ; and the discovery makes one great element of intellectual interest, imparting a positive charm. (5) Aid can he derived from the tracing of cause and effect. The notion of cause and effect, the crowning notion of science, is one of the first to dawn upon the infant mind. The simplest movements are attended with discernible consequences: the fall of a chair with noise; the taking of food with gratification. These instances are the beginnings of the knowledge of causes ; and they are viewed correctly from the first. Now when any agent produces an apparent change or effect, it operates by only one of the many properties that it possesses as a concrete object. A chair has form to the eye, resistance to the hand, noise to the ear ; and as these effects are seen in their separate work- mgs, they lead on to analysis or abstraction of the properties causing them. (6) The numher of instances 7iecessary varies ivith the char- acter of the things. Very few are needed for a simple form — for weight, liquidity, transparency. For a metal, a plant, a tree, a bird, an article of food, a force, a society — a good many are wanted. (7) The name and the defi^iition shoidd he given along with the general 152 PSTCHOLOGY. notion, when it is formed. The definition assigns some simpler no- tions, supposed to be already possessed. The fact that inability to form abstract ideas is the principal stumbling-block in the way of all learners, warrants particular pains and indefatigable industry on the part of the teacher in giving intelligent aid at this point. ^ In this section, on Conception, we have considered : 1, Use of the word ** Conception*'^ 2, The Process of Conccjytion, 3, The Completed Concept, 4, The Reality of Concepts, 5, Realism, 6, Nominalisfn, 7, Concepttialism, 8, Relationism, 9, Perfect and Imperfect Concepts, 10, The Hypostasizlng of Abstract Ideas. 11. Relation of Conception to Education, References : (1) F. Max Miiller's Science of Thought, Chapter IV. (2) Galton's Inquiry into Human Faculty, pp. 183, 184. (3) Id., pp. 109, 110. (4) Abbot's Scientific Theism, p. 1 et seq., and Mind, Oct., 1882, p. 461 et seq. (5) Id. (6) Bain's Education as a Science, pp. 193, 197. SECTION 11. JUDGMENT. 1. Definition of Judgment. Judgment Is the process of asserting agreement op dif- ference between ideas. It is essentially the relating activ- ity of Intellect. It implies the pre-existence of elements of knowledge between which relations of agreement or disagreement can be discovered. For example, to judge ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 153 that two colors are, or are not, the same, it is necessary that each shoukl be separately apprehended. The expres- sion of an act of judgment in language is a proposition. Nothing but a proposition, expressed or implied, can embody truth. Things, states and qualities can be apprehended as real, but we cannot say a "house" is true, or a "sensation" is true, or a " color " is true. Truth is the correspondence of consciousness with reality. When we assert an agreement or a disagreement to exist and it actually does exist, our judgment is true and what we assert is true. Truth can nevqr be attained and error can never be elimi- nated, except by acts of Judgment. We do, however, apprehend reality by direct intuition, or immediate knowledge. At least two realities must be apprehended before a judgment can be formed. That our apprehensions of reality, apart from all acts of Judgment, are very rudimentary, is evident from the place which interpretation has in the sphere of Sense-perception. 2. Relation of Judgment to Other Processes. Judgment is involved in nearly all the forms of knowl- edge which we have thus far examined. Although we must separate the various psychical acts for purposes of analytical study, it should not be forgotten that they are intimately blended in the actual processes of knowledge. Thus, Judgment is employed in Sense-perception, and all our acquired perceptions are products of Judgment exer- cised upon our original perceptions. Every act of recog- nition is an act of Judgment, in which the represented idea is asserted to be the representative of something we have previously known. In acts of Imagination, the fit- ness of means to ends is constantly asserted. In Concep- tion, the acts of comparing, generalizing, and denominat- ing are exercises of Judgment. As we shall soon see, every process of Eeasoning is a series of dependent Judgments. 154 PSYCHOLOGY. 3. The Elements of a Judgment. Every judgment has three essential elements. They are : (1) the Subject, or that of which something is asserted ; (2) the Predicate, or that which is asserted of the Sub- ject ; and (3) the Copula, or that which asserts agreement or disagreement of the Subject and Predicate. Sometimes the three elements are expressed in three separate words ; as, Man (subject) ^"^^ ^(copula) mortal (pred- icate). Frequently the subject is expressed in one word and the copula and predicate are united in one ; as, 3Ian (subject) dies (copula and predicate united). The copula simply expresses agreement or disagreement, according as it is affirmative or negative, but does not necessarily in- volve actual existence. The verb ^^to be/^ in its various forms, sometimes expresses the mere relation between the subject and 2:)redicate, and sometimes involves also the predicate of existence, or actual being. 4. Classification of Judgments. Judgments are of various kinds and may be classified differently, according to the manner in which they are employed or regarded. The most important distinctions are expressed in the following classes : (1) As to origin, judgments are (ci) analytical, when the predicate simply unfolds what is already contained in the subject, without adding anything new ; as, ''^ All triangles have three sides'^; and {T)) synthetic, when we assert of the subject something not already implied in it and thus increase our knowledge; as, "All the planets attract other material bodies according to their mass.^' ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 155 Analytical judgments are sometimes called "explicative," and synthetical judgments, " ampliative." An analytical judgment is not necessarily tautologous, that is, the predicate does not simply repeat the subject. It unfolds the content of the subject and sets it in a new light. It explains what the subject really means. (2) As to certainty, judgments are [a) problematical, when founded on mere opinion, the assertion being neither subjectively nor objectively known to be true ; {h) assert- ive, when founded on personal helief, as when a subjective conviction is offered without verification ; and (c) demon- strative, when founded on constitutive pr indoles or verified 2)roof, as the axioms and demonstrations of mathematics. Opinion is a view of a subject that may be entertained without evidence, being based merely on pre-conceptions. It presents a* prob- lem to be investigated, but is not itself conclusive, even for the one who entertains it. Belief is based on some evidence, but it may vary greatly in amount, according to the intellectual habits of each person. The evidence that induces belief in one may not induce it in another. There are degrees of belief. In the sphere of probability, belief must take the place of knowledge. In all the practical affairs of life it is sufficient for action, and the wise man does not wait to know, but acts on his beliefs. In the sacred relations of husband and wife, parent and child, lender and borrower, buyer and seller, teacher and pupil, belief must satisfy. These relations are sacred for the reason that demonstration is impossible. Here enters the principle of "honor," which consists in a recognition of the sacredness of these personal relations. Demonstration rests upon the certainty of knowl- edge and the processes of knowledge, and admits the element of verifi- cation. It is excluded from all those spheres where trust in the veracity of a person is involved, and these are the ones in which our affections, our business prosperity, and our religious hopes are in- cluded. (3) As to form, judgments are {a) categorical, when the assertion is unqualified by any condition ; as, *^ Man is i56 PSYCHOLOGY. mortal ^': and {h) conditional, when the assertion is quali- fied by a condition ; as, "If this is a man, he is mortal/' Conditional judgments are further divided into liypothet- ical, disjunctive, and dilemmatic, which are explained in Logic. (4) As to quantity, judgments are («) universal, when the predicate is affirmed universally of the subject ; as, "All clouds are vaporous ^^; and {h) particular, when the predicate is asserted of only a part of the subject ; as, " Some men are vicious/^ (5) As to quality, judgments are {a) affirmative, when they affirm a relation to exist between subject and predi- cate ; as, " Men are rational beings " ; and (h) negative, when a relation is denied between subject and predicate ; as, ^^Men are not omniscient/' (6) As to inclusion, judgments are {a) extensive, when an attribute taken as a subject is asserted to exist in ob- jects taken as predicates ; as, " The Whites are English, French, Germans, etc/' ; and (/;) comprehensive, when anything taken as a subject is asserted to possess an attri- bute taken as a predicate ; as, ^' All Europeans are white/' , 5. The Categ-ories of Judgmeiit. , It is evident that the possible modes of assertion are limited by the nature of the things about which we make assertions. Let us take an example. I see a tree in a garden. I may assert of it : (1) Being, or existence. It has («) Quantity, that is, it is more or less than other trees. It has {h) Quality, that is, it is of some hind, as a maple. It has {c) Mode, that is, it is solid, not liquid or gaseous. It has {d) ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 157 Numler, that is, it is one of many trees. It has (e) Rela- tio7i, that is, its parts are specially disposed. I may assert of it also : (2) Cause, or active power. It has {a) Efficiency, that is, productive power. It has {b) Finality, that is, adapta- tion to an end, or purpose. I may farther assert of it : (3) Space, or co-extension. It has {ct) Position, (b) Direction, (c) Distance, (d) Surface and [e) Magnitude. Finally, I may assert of it : (4) Time, or continuance. It has {ci) Succession in the production of its parts and {b) Duration as a whole. These predicates have been called the Categories (from the Greek KarTjyopECj, Tcategoreo, to predicate or assert), or general kinds of assertion that may be made with respect to anything. The power to know these highest predicates, which are structural elements in the nature of things and in the composition of thought, is called Reason. Eational Judgment is the process of asserting agreements and dis- agreements under these categories, or forms of knowing. The doctrine of the categories is very ancient. Those of the Greek philosoplier, Pythagoras (586-506, b.c), are the earliest known. Aristotle subsequently stated them as follows : (1) substance, (2) quantity, (3) quality, (4) relation, (5) place, (6) time, (7) situation, (8) possession, (9) action, and (10) suffering.^ This statement of the categories was afterwards modified by various philosophers. The Stoics reduced them to four : (1) substance, (2) quality, (3) manner and (4) relation. Piotinus attempted a new system, but Aristotle's statement was generally received until the time of Bacon. In modern times Kant's doctrine of the categories is important. He names the following : I. Of Quantity : (1) Unity, (2) Plurality, (3) Totality. II. Of Quality : (1) Reality, (2) Negation, (3) Limita- tion. III. Of Relatiofi : (1) Substance and Accident, (2) Cause and Effect, (3) Reciprocity. IV. Of 3Iodality : (1) Possibility, (2) Ex- istence, (3) Necessity. These are the categories of the Understand- 158 PSYCHOLOGY. iiig. Of Sensuous Intuition there are two others : Time and Space.' According to Kant, all these are mere forms of the intelligence, not structural elements in actual Being. They are for the mind only, prescribing the necessities of thought, but not inherent in reality. While no rational process is possible without categories, it would probably be presumptuous to suppose that any classification of them is faultless. It is difficult to state them in such a manner as to avoid a repetition of some element under the different names. A reason for this may be that concrete realities involve many of them at the same time, and our analysis cannot exhaust them without repeating them. An explanation of each of the categories as given in the text above is attempted in the treatment of Constitutive Knowledge. The ref- erence to them here is necessary in order to show the bases upon which Rational Judgment rests. 6. Tlie Kelation of Juclg-iiient to Education. Education aims to develop the power of judging. It does not attempt to supply a complete stock of verified propositions. The educated man is one whose power of independent Judgment has been so cultivated that he can form verified propositions for himself in any field of in- vestigation. The uneducated man can follow an old rule, but the educated man can discover new rules. Two im- portant educational problems arise here : (1) how far to encourage independence of Judgment in a learner, and (2) how to cultivate the power of correct Judgment. (1) Independence of Judgment in the learner. — Abject deference to authority and absolute independence of authority are two extremes which are, perhaps, equally remote from the proper spirit of a learner. Too much dependence upon a teacher's ijjse dixit divesta the pupil of all real intellectual activity and renders him the passive recipient of pre-arranged ideas. Such a learner can never be much more than a parrot. On the other haJid, too ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 159 much self-confidence in a pupil renders the correcting influence of a superior mind ineffectual. Such a learnei receives no training. In order that development of Judg- ment may be acquired, the power must be both exercised and trained. The learner must, therefore, be allowed, and if backward must be urged, to form judgments with- out aid from others. He must also be required to submit his own judgments to the revision and correction of his teacher. The relation of teacher and pupil has no reason for existing, if it does not imply the teacher's superiority in the special department in which instruction is under- taken, and the pupiFs position as a learner requires his respectful recognition of this superiority. The teacher's function, however, is not simply to implant a system of truth, but to develop an intelligence. This requires that independence of judgment should be encouraged where it is necessary as well as repressed where it is too prominent. To develop power without conceit, is the teacher's diffi- cult task. (2) The Cultivation of Judgment. — The power to judge correctly is cultivated by well-directed practice, which gradually supplies the mind with rules of experience, some growing out of the particular subject-matter with which we deal, others of a more general character. We thus learn what are the sources of error and what are the tests of truth. The exact sciences are more favorable for the cultivation of Judgment than the speculative sciences ; for in the former verification is possible, so that the learner can test his own judgments, while in the latter he cannot. The sphere of practical action is especially favorable for the development of Judgment, for errors are here rebuked by consequences which render the mind cautious and ac- 160 PSYCHOLOGY. curate in its operations. Theory often fails in practice, but intelligent practice seldom fails to suggest a true theory. The laboratory of experimental science is an excellent primary school of Judgment. So also is the workshop. A writer on the value of industrial education, says, in pointing out the influence of action on thought : "The mind and the hand are natural allies. The mind speculates, the hand tests the specula- tions of the mind by the law of practical application. The hand explodes the errors of the mind ; for it inquires, so to speak, by the act of doing, whether or not a given theorem is demonstrable in the form of a problem. The hand is, therefore, not only constantly searching after truth, but is constantly finding it. It is possible for the mind to indulge in false logic, to make the worse appear the better reason, without instant exposure. But for the hand to work falsely is to produce a misshapen thing — tool or machine — which in its construction gives the lie to its maker. Thus the hand that is false to truth, in the very act publishes the verdict of its own guilt, exposes itself to contempt and derision, convicts itself of unskilful- ness or of dishonesty." ^ In this section, on "Judgment," we have considered : 1, Definition of Jadfjnient, 2, Relation of Judgment to Other Processes. 3, The Elements of Judgment, 4, Classification of Judgments, 5, The Categories of Judgment, 6, The Melation of Judgment to Education, References : (1) Aristotle's Categories, IV., 1. (2) Kant's Cri- tique of Pure Reason (Mliller's Translation), II., p. 71. (3) Ham's 3Ianual Training, pp. 144, 145. ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 161 SEGTION in. REASONING. 1. Definition of Reasoning. Reasoning is a process of inference in which a new judgment is derived from other known judgments. It im- plies the existence of a regulative faculty, or Reason, whose structural principles are employed in connecting ideas and judgments. It is a discursive, as distinguished from an intuitive, action of Intellect, and presupposes not only materials of presentative knowledge with which it deals, but also regulative principles which give validity to the process. A question naturally arises as to the validity of the reasoning process. A conclusion, or result of reasoning, seems to have the character of a manufactured article, and we may well doubt the ability of the mind to malce. truth. The difficulty is readily removed, however, if we consider that reasoning is simply the more explicit statement of what is already involved in presentative and represent- ative knowledge. If A is equal to B, and B is equal to C, then it is certain that A is equal to C, although this is a new judgment, for its truth is necessitated by the truth of the previous judgments. But this necessity is owing to a law of thought which is also a law of things, namely, the Law of Identity. If there are no certain and necessary laws of thought, or if the laws of thought are not also laws of things, we have no warrant for the process of reasoning in any of its forms, and no conclusion can be demonstrative. The nature of these foundations we shall discuss under Constitutive Knowledge, and it is sufficient here to exhibit the dependence of all reasoning upon constitutive principles and to illustrate the manner in which it employs them in giving validity to inferences. We shall thus be prepared for an examination of the rational constitution of the mind. 162 PSYCHOLOGY. 2. The Assumptions of all Reasoning. Eeasoning would be impossible if there were not a cor^ respondence between the processes of the soul and the external operations which move and combine the real objects of knowledge. If we can arrive at the real rela- tions of things outside of ourselves by combining our ideas according to the laws of thought, it is certain that those things are governed and arranged according to the same laws of thought. In brief, if subjective thought can reach objective truth, it is because objective realities are regulated by the same laws of thought. The thought of man, when correct, is but the transcript of thought that is not his own, but which was before his, regulates his^ and is above his. Philosophical Skepticism has its origin in daubt concerning the trustworthiness of the reasoning process. One of its earliest historic representatives was Pyrrho of Elis (about 360-270 B.C.), a Greek philosopher, or rather doubter of the possibility of philosophy, from whose name philosophical skeptics are sometimes called Pyrrhonists. He asserted that, of every two contradictory propositions, one is not more true than the other. A later representative of this school of thinkers was Sextus Empiricus (about 200 a.d.), who claimed to be able to disprove the possibility of demonstration ! The paradox of a demonstration that there can be no demonstration, is evidently rational suicide. Subsequent ages have had representative skeptics. Hume and his followers belong to this school, in so far as they are consistent, if consistency is conceivable in one who rejects the postu- lates of Reason. 3. Inductive Reasoning-. Induction is the inference of a conclusion by generali- zation from particular facts. The conclusion is a univer- sal judgment. The great problem in the discussion of ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 163 inductive reasoning is to show how we can 2^ass from the particular to the universal. It is evident that we must assume some universal principles, or else we cannot sustain the validity of inductive reasoning. These assumptions we shall presently state. ' ' Two bodies of unequal weight (say a guinea and a feather) are placed at the same height under the exhau-sted receiver of an air- pump. When released, they are observed to reach the bottom of the vessel at the same instant of time, or, in other words, to fall in equal times. From this fact, it is inferred that a repetition of the experi- ment, either with these bodies or with any other bodies, would be at- tended with the same result, and that, if it were not for the resistance of the atmosphere and other impeding circumstances, all bodies, whatever their weight, would fall through equal vertical spaces in equal times. Now, that these two bodies in this particular experi- ment fall to the bottom of the receiver in equal times is merely a fact of observation, but that they would do so if we repeated the experi- ment, or that t\m next two bodies we selected, or any bodies, or all bodies, would do so, is an inference, and is an inference of that par- ticular character which is called an Inductive Inference, or In- duction."* 4. Processes Subsidiary to Induction. There are several processes connected with induction and subsidiary to it. These are as follows : (1) Observation. — By observation we carefully note phenomena. I observe that two bodies fall to the ground with different velocities. I observe that a coin is heavier than a feather. These are simple facts of observation and, uninterpreted, they have little significance. ' (2) Experiment. — Experiment involves an intentional combination of phenomena, in order to observe them under new conditions. I exhaust the air from a receiver and then drop a coin and a feather in it, in order to see what 164 PSYCHOLOGY. effect the changed conditions will have. This affords new facts. Science really begins when experiment, or analytical observation, takes the place of simple obser- vation. (3) Hypothesis. — Hypothesis is a theory, or suj^position, provisionally employed as an explanation of phenomena.' It is necessary as a directing idea in the conduct of exper- iments. The invention of hypotheses is one of the most important functions of Scientific Imagination. The prin- cipal test of the truth of an hypothesis is its adaptation to explain all the facts. When it does not explain the facts, it must be modified or abandoned. (4) Verification. — This consists in proving the truth of an hypothesis by applying it to all the attainable facts and so discovering that what was an hypothesis in thought is actually a law of things. Every process of verification assumes certain principles which we shall now state. 5. Assumptions of Inductive Inference. In order to render induction valid, two assumptions must be made : (1) That every event has a cause. This is the Law of Universal Causation ; and (2) That the same causes will always produce the same efFects. This is the Law of the Uniformity of Nature. If I infer that all bodies acted on by gravity alone fall in equal times, it is because every event of this kind, — the falling of a body, — requires a cause, gravity, and because this cause always acts uni- formly. If such an event could happen without a cause, or if the same cause did not always produce the same effect, I could make no inference whatever. No induction, then, is possible, except upon these assumptions. ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 165 6. Deductive Reasoning. Deduction is the inference of a conclusion by the appli- cation of a general truth to a particular case. The prin- ciple underlying all deductive reasoning was laid down by Aristotle and is known as Aristotle's Dictum : ^^ Whatever is predicated, or asserted universally, of any class of things, may be predicated of anything comprehended in that class." The validity of this mode of reasoning, then, depends upon our knowledge of general, or universal judgments. From the premises All wood is a verjetaUe product ; Tills suhstance is toood ; I may infer the conclusion. This suhstcmce is a vegetable product. If, however, I cannot assert that ''All wood is a vege- table product," but only that '' Some wood is a vegetable product," I can infer nothing. 7. Origin of Universal Judgments. The question. How are general, or universal, judgments obtained ? has given rise to much discussion. The fol- lowing theories have been held : (1) The Inductive Theory. — This derives all general judgments from induction. Even such propositions as, "Every event has a cause," are, according to this theory, derived from induction. This is the position of J. S; Mill.^ To this view it may be objected (1) that no num- ber of particular instances, without a universal element, would warrant a general law, and (2) that every process of induction assumes general principles to begin with. 166 PSYCHOLOGY. (2) The Hereditary Theory. — This view regards general judgments as derived from the experience of past genera- tions, being transmitted as inherited tendencies to regard certain propositions as universal, because they have never been contradicted in experience. The theory differs from the exploded doctrine of innate ideas, in regarding the ten- dency, not as an actual form of knowledge, but as an in- herited disposition. This is the position of Herbert Spen- cer.^ The objections to it are (1) that it simply removes the difficulties a little farther back, for the first induction could not have proceeded without general judgments, and (2) even the total experience of the human race does not show that a judgment is really universal and necessaryo It fails, then, to give a firm foundation to reasoning. (3) The Intuitive Theory. — According to this view, cer- tain fundamental principles are regarded as known by in- hdtion (from the Latin in, in or on, and tiieri, to look). Such principles are variously called '' intuitions,^' '' pri- mary beliefs," ^'^ first truths" and ^^constitutive princi- ples." Unless the mind begins with such intuitions, it is difficult to comprehend how any process of reasoning is possible. They are more fully considered in the treat- ment of Constitutive Knowledge, to which they belong.* The origin of mathematical axioms has occasioned much con- troversy, and affords a field for illustrating the rise of certain gen- eral truths. These propositions are not derived by induction from particular cases, but are seen at once to be true in any case. They do not, indeed, come into consciousness until we set about formulat- ing mathematical proofs, but they are implied in all our mathe- matical thinking, and have a character of self -evidence and necessity which is known as soon as we think about them. The same is true of many other principles. Our best description of the way in which such principles are known is to say that they are known intuitively, ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 167 or by direct insight. We cannot speak of them as "innate," for that would imply that they exist in the mind at birth as forms of knowledge, whereas they come into consciousness only in the course of experience. They cannot be proved, either inductively or deduct- ively, because there is nothing more evident from which they could be proved, and they must be assumed in every possible form of proof. It must be remembered, however, that in nearly all processes of de- ductive reasoning, we employ universal judgments which we have derived from induction, and which have only that degree of probable truth that the extent of our induction warrants. 8. Two Forms of Expressing Deduction. There are two ways in which a deductive argument may be expressed. They are : (1) The Explicit, or Syllogistic. — This is the full and logical form of statement, and is best adapted for the ready application of tlie tests which are employed by logicians to determine the validity or invalidity of an inference. (2) The Implicit, or Enthymematic. — This is an abbre- viated form of expression, in which one of the judgments, or premises, is suppressed, {a) because it is too evident to require expression, or {h) to avoid attracting attention to it and thus exposing a fallacy. It is the form in which arguments are usually stated in connected discourse. As the persons who use this text-book are presumed to have studied Logic, it is unnecessary to enter into details concerning the forms of reasoning. The psychological interest terminates when the processes of reasoning have been described and the validity of correct reason- ing is shown. If the reasoning be correct, and the premises are true, the conclusion is true. In the sphere of merely probable judgments, the conclusion has the same degree of probability as the two premises taken together. The trustworthiness of all reasoning depends upon the relations of real beings implied in the premises. Most fallacies result from false premises. 168 PSYCHOLOQT. 9. Systematization. The highest product of reasoning is a System, or coher- ent whole, in which truth is unified. A j^erfect system would fulfill the following requirements : (1) All the facts must be included ; (2) All the facts must be harmonized, so that no con- tradiction exists between them ; (3) All the facts must be arranged according to their natural affinities. Every science aims to meet all these requirements so far as its limited complement of facts is concerned. It in- cludes, harmonizes, and arranges the facts, however, with growing clearness and certainty, and this is what is meant by the " growth of science." That all truth is harmonious, is believed by every intelligence that has faith in the in- telligibility of the universe. We have not yet arrived at a final system in which all knowledge is unified. If such a system existed in the consciousness of any man, it is doubt- ful if any existing language would furnish an adequate expression for it. With the progress of knowledge there may be a corresponding improvement in language, so that fixed definitions and divisions may be universally accepta- ble and without contradiction. 10. The Relation of Reasoning to Education* Reasoning marks the culmination of all the intellectual powers. To be able to reason correctly at all times and on all subjects, would imply the perfect discipline of the faculties and the conformity of the whole mind to the laws of thought. It constitutes, therefore, in a certain ELABOBATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 169 i^ense, the goal of purely intellectual development. We shall consider here : (1) what studies furnish most aid to the discipline of Reasoning power ; (2) what conditions arise from the use of language as an instrument of Eea- soning ; and (3) what limits to Reasoning are fixed in the constitution of the mind. (1) Disciplinary studies. — Xo doubt all close observation of the forces of Nature in their regular operation tends to improve our power of reasoning, for we thus acquire a facility in inferring from a given event what will follow by Nature^s logic of cause and effect. The helpful influ- ence of close observation is much increased when we strive to detect a principle in the facts, a law in the phenomena. This is Induction. Inductive reasoning finds its best ex- emplification and opportunity in the sphere of the experi- mental sciences, such as Chemistry, Physics and Physi- ology, when pursued as branches of investigation. They ought to be pursued inductively, not taught as closed and finished systems. Deductive reasoning, on the other hand, is best cultivated by the study of Pure Mathematics, in which the processes are mainly deductive and the methods rigidly logical. The union of the two is found in the sphere of Applied Mathematics, where the deductive method of abstract reasoning is blended with the condi- tional forms of practical calculation. Logic, being the science of reasoning, has great value in improving our reasoning powers, but if we are to profit much by it we must apply it practically until its principles are clearly apprehended and fully illustrated. As one may repeat all the rules of syntax Avithout speaking correctly, so one may repeat all the rules of the syllogism without reasoning cer- rectly. 170 PSYCHOLOGY. (2) The instrument of Reasoning. — Nearly all the actual reasoning of men is carried on with the aid of language as its instrument. Instead of things^ we have before the mind words, or symbols of things. We treat these ac- cording to the rules of Logic, as if they were the realities jof thought. The traditional Logic inherited from Aris- totle deals with " terms ^' and ^'^ propositions"'' rather than with things and judgments. Some logicians, as Whately,^ regard Logic as wholly conversant about lan- guage ; and some philologists, as Max Miiller, ^ identify thought and language. Words certainly abbreviate and facilitate mental combinations, and many of these would be impossible without words. We can assert and infer some things of a figure with a thousand sides ; as, for example, that it is not a circle and that it approaches nearer to a circle than a square, and yet no one can form a mental image of such a figure. But language often seriously affects the validity of reasoning. Ambiguous words and abstract words treated as if they were things are two fertile sources of error in reasoning. It is the duty of the teacher to point out these pitfalls in the path of reasoning and to show that valid thinking depends upon the relations of realities, not upon the relations of verbal signs. (3) The limits of Reasoning. — It is necessary to make plain to the learner that reasoning is confimed within cer- tain limits. It is difficult for the young mind that has not analyzed its own powers to believe that there is any truth that is not the result of reasoning, and it is characteristic of such minds to push the question, ''Why ?" beyond the patience of maturer minds. Children want a reason for everything. Companionship with them very soon shows ELABORATIYE KNOWLEDGE. 171 us the limits of reasoning. When we come to analyze the process of reasoning, we discover that it consists simply of re-stating what is already implied in previous knowledge. At the hasis of all reasoning lie the primary affirmations and immediate experiences witliont which reasoning itself would have neither validity nor materials. The process of reasoning is merely a relating activity of the mind, harmonizing and unifying various forms of knowledge, — the materials, so to speak, with which it deals. These materials are furnished by our experience and by the constitution of our nature that renders experi- ence possible. This constitution we can examine and describe, but it presents to us ultimate facts and jjrinci- ples beyond which Intellect cannot penetrate. Such an examination and description are attempted in the next chapter, on Constitutive Knowledge. In this section, on "Reasoning," we have consid- ered: 1, Definition of Reasoning, 2, The Assumptions of all Reasoning, 3, Inductive JReasoning, 4, Processes Subsidiary to Induction, 5, Assumptions of Inductive Inference, 6, Deductive Reasoning, 7, Origin of Universal Judgments, 8, Two Forms of Ejcpressing Deduction, 9, System at izat ion, 10, The Relation of Reasoning to Education. References : (1) Fowler's Inductive Logic, p. 3. (2) Mill's System of Logic, Book III., Chapter lY. (3) Spencer's Principles of Psy- cliology, Part IV., Chapter VII. (4) Porter's Human Intellect, pp. 497, 526. (5) Whately's Elements of Logic, Book II., Chapter I., Section 2. (6) Max MiUler's Science of ThougU, I., p. 30. CHAPTER iV. CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. Constitutive knowledge is the knowledge that is acquired by an examination of those postulates, op assumed truthSj which are involved in all oup intellectual experience. A postulate (from the Latin j^ostuldre, to demand) is a truth demanded by the mind in order to explain its exper- iences. It is not so much a product of experience as it is a pre-condition of experience ; for, though it is brought to our consciousness only in experience, it is necessary to the possibility of experience. More explicitly, in order to hnow, the knowing subject must have a certain constitu- tion that enables it to know ; and, in order to he hiiown, the known object must have a certain constitution that enables it to be known. We now pass to an examination of this fourth kind of knowledge. In organizing per= cepts, we saw (page 58) that our sense-impressions are referred to the four relations of (1) Being, (2) Cause, (3) Space and (4) Time. These we found also to constitute the leading Categories of Judgment (page 156). We have now to ask what we know about these categories, or forms of predication, underlying all our other knowledge. We have noted successive stages of intellectual activity appear- ing in an unfolding order from simple sensation up to reasoning, that is, a Development of Intellect. This also CONSTITUTIVE 1<:N0WLEDGE. 173 requires some examination. Tiiese five topics^ tlien^ will be the subjects of the sections in this Chapter. At this point begins the transition to what is usually called On- tology, or Metaphysics (see page 2). It is the inevitable culmination of Psychology. It is also the dividing-point of the schools of philosophy. It is necessary here, without entering upon a full dis- cussion, to explain the psychological origin of these schools. Empiricism (from the Greek E/iirsLpla, empeiria, experience), re- gards nothing as true or '■-ertain except what is given in experience. We can, therefore, know nothing of the realities, if any exist, out- side of, or beyond, experience. Locke and his followers, advocate Empiricism and are called "Empiricists" and their methods "Em- pirical." It has been the favorite view in English and French thinking, though not without important exceptions. Transcendentalism (from the Latin transcendere, to go beyond, to surpass) regards experience as impossible without certain precon- ditions which go beyond, or surpass, experience and render it possi- ble. In order to know, there must be certain faculties of knowing with a specific nature and constitution. Kant and his followers are representatives of Transcendentalism. Kant holds that there are in the soul certain a priori principles of knowledge not derived from experience, but necessary to it. The Scotch philosophers have held, for the most part, a similar view of "first principles," but have repudiated the name "Transcendentalism," preferring the less pre- tentious term, " Common Sense." The words " Transcendentalism " and " Empiricism " are used with various shades of meaning diffi- cult to discriminate within narrow limits, and the learner will do well to use them with caution, and will be safer not to use them at all. For the use of the word " Transcendentalism " as applied to the views of Ralph Waldo Emerson and other American thinkers, see the exposition of their doctrines in Frothingham's" Transcend- entalism in America." The word " intuition " also had a i^eculiar meaning for this coterie of thinkers. Sensationalism is another designation frequently applied to the doctrine of Empiricism, because those who have held the empirical view have usually tried to derive all knowledge from mere sensation, as Hume and Mill, for example, without admitting the constitution of the mind itself as a source of knowledge. 174 PSYCHOLOGY. Rationalism is the opposite doctrine, finding the ultimate expla- nation of knowledge in the constitution of " Reason," and regarding sensation as merely the material of knowledge for which Reason supplies the forms. In a broad classification of systems, we may form two autithej ical groups : (1) Empiricism, Sensationalism and Associationism usually ^o together and are only different names for the same way of thinking. Knowledge is supposed to begin in sensation, to consist of nothing but "transformed sensation" and to be worked up into its special forms by association of ideas. (2) Transcendentalism and Rationalism are also different names for the same general doctrine. Both terms indicate a claim to knowledge of something beyond experience. This may be expressed as ^^ a priori knowledge," " first principles, " " primary principles," " primitive beliefs," "first truths," "intuitions," " constitutive prin- ciples," etc. The general meaning is the same. Transcendentalists and Rationalists regard the soul as possessing specific faculties, or powers of knowing, and so having a definite constitution. Without entering farther into the discussion of these differences, we shall proceed to the examination of the necessary postulate** of knowledge. SBGTIOIT L BEING. 1. The Reality of Being. The reality of Being is affirmed in the first primary affirmation of the soul, ^' Something is." It is the nec- essary correlate of knowledge. The reality of Being is incapable of proof, for it is the condition on which all proof rests. The denial of it is also impossible, for the affirmation of its non-existence would have no rational foundation. In every act of knowledge we have an intu- CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 175 itio)i of Being. From such separate experiences we form also a concept, or abstract idea^ of Being, which is the most universal positive notion that we can form. From the intuition of Being we formulate three laws of thought tvhich constitute the basis of all reasoning, as follows : (1) The Law of Identity, Whatever is, is ; (2) The Law of Contradiction, Nothing can both be and not be ; (3) The Law of Excluded Middle, Everything must either be or not be. These laws of thought constitute the foundation of Logic, which is the science of the laws of thought. Upon them are based the Canons of the Syllogism and the Rules of the Syllogism, as given by writers on Logic. They are fully discussed in all the better works on this subject, and a full explanation may be found in " The Elements of Logic," published by Sheldon and Company, pp. 104, 123. 2. Substance and Attribute. Substance is the constitutive condition of all experi- ence, for that which experiences and that which is ex- perienced must he. Differences which are known in con- sciousness and are attributed to Being, are attributes of Being. Whatever is known is known under the relation of substance and attribute. Attributes are appt-ehended in experience, are the phenomenal elements of it, and are necessarily referred to substance as the reality of which they are manifestations. "The idea," says Locke, "to which we give the name of suh- stance, being nothing but the supposed but unknown support of the qualities we find existing, which we imagine cannot subsist, siiie re substante, without something to support them, we call that support substo/iitia; which, according to the true import of the word, is, uj 176 PSYCHOLOGY. plaiu English, standing under or upholding."^ That we do uni- versally refer every attribute to a substance, is undisputed among philosophers. They liavc, however, given opposite accounts of it and reasons for it. Locke, Berkeley, Hume, and the two Mills con- sider the idea of substance as a mere artifice of the mind. They hold, then, to Phenomenalism, the doctrine that we know phenom- ena, or appearances, only. The connection of Phenomenalism and Nominalism has been already pointed out. The weakness of Phe- nomenalism is precisely that of Nominalism. It lies in ignoring outward reality. An object is the sum of all its qualities. Some of these are known, others are unknown. The substance of a thing is that reality a part of which we apprehend through its attributes as known by us and some of whose qualities may be unknown to us. If we knew all, substance would be entirely disclosed. Substance and attributes are in reality inseparable. We mentally separate one or more attributes from the others, which together with them con- stitute a thing, by the process of abstraction. The doctrine of Rela- tionism requires us to refer every attribute to the- other qualities with which it is associated and to consider them all as real in their concrete combination. The distinction between substance and at- tribute is thus a simply relative one, but essential to the mind's activity. Kant distinguished between Phenomena (attributes as ap- pearing to us) and Noumenon (substance not manifested to our knowledge). Here is the great weakness of his system ; for, if phe- nomena are products of the mind created by its inherent forms, as he holds, how do we know that there is any noumenon, or objective reality ? If there is objective reality, why should all differences of quality and quantity be referred, as he refers them, to the forms of the mind ? Relationism affords more solid ground, affirming that the qualities of a thing exist where the thing exists, and, taken in their totality, constitute it. 3. Two Kinds of Being. As our knowledge of Being is obtained tlirongli its attributes, we are warranted in distinguishing as many kinds of Being as there are antithetical and inconvertible groups of attributes. These are two : CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 177 (1) Matter, having the attributes of space-occupancy, impenetral)ility and sense-presentation ; and (2) Spirit, having the attributes of self-conscious intel= ligence, sensibility and volition. These two groups of attributes are both antithetical and inconvertible. As examples of their antithesis take the following : Mat- ter is not known to possess intelligence, sensibility, or volition. No chemical synthesis has succeeded in so com- bining the elements of matter as to endow them with these powers. On the other hand, spirit is not known to fill any portion of space, though it has location in a bodily organism. No material element is known to be lost when the spirit leaves the body. S^jirit is not known to be im- penetrable ; but, on the contrary, the greater the number of ideas jiossessed by the soul, the greater the number it is capable of receiving. The states of the self-conscious spirit, such as hopes, joys, fears, desires, concepts, etc., are not known as occupying space, or as being capable of sense-presentation. The Inconvertibility of the two groups of attributes is admitted by all eminent thinkers. The physical forces, — heat, light, electricity, chemical action, gravity, and probably nervous force, — are convertible into one another; so that, beginning with any one, the others can be pro= duced. Thought, feeling and volition are 7iot thus cor- related with the physical forces. Not only has the ex- perimental production of any form of consciousness been thus far impossible, but, as Tyndall says : '^The passage from the physics of the brain to the corresponding facts of consciousness is imtldnlcaUe. " ^ By the tests of antithesis and inconvertibility, there- 178 PSYCHOLOGY. fore, we distinguish matter and spirit as different kinds of Being. This distinction is not like that by which the chemist discrian- inates between two elements, such as oxygen and hydrogen. The dif- ference in that case is one of combining power, in the case of matter and spirit it is one of kind. We have no scientific warrant for effac- ing the distinction marked, as it is, in every literature, universal in human speech and fundamental in all thought. The theorist may, indeed, go farther and say that, in the unknown reality of both mind and matter there may be a unity that is beyond our penetration. This is possible, but it is mere hypothesis, it is not science. We are not, therefore, prepared to teach it as science when even the most eminent physicists would object to this identification of mind and matter. In the present state of science, Dualistic Realism is, there- fore, Scientific Realism. Monism, in every form, is mere hypothe- sis. When mind and matter can be identified experimentally by making matter conscious in the laboratory, or even in conception by rendering the attributes of the one intellectually translatable into the attributes of the other. Monism will be established, but not until this is done. It would then assume the form of Idealism, if all were resolved into mind; of Materialism, if all were resolved into matter. Agnostic Monism is simply a learned expression of the inability to effect this resolution and is essentially wo?i-scientific, introducing a term of ignorance in the place of knowledge. 4. Quantity. Quantity (from tlie Latin quantum, how much) involved the distinction of more or less. It may be applied to any thing that admits of degree, that is, to any thing that is measurable. A line, a surface, or a magnitude is de- scribed as having quantity. A force also, like steam- power, has quantity, although we cannot assign it dimen- sions. We measure it by a unit of intensity, not by a unit of magnitude. We have then, (1) extensive quantity, or quantity in space, and (2) intensive quantity, or quantity CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 179 in power. We may add also (3) protensive quantity, or quantity in time ; as when we compare minutes and hours^ days and weeks. 5. Quality. Quality (from the Latin quails, of what kind) involves the distinction of hind. The quality of a thing is that which constitutes its difference from things of other kinds. Intellect, as discriminative activity, is chiefly occupied with qualities. 6. Modality. Modality (from the Latin modus, manner) involves the distinction of manner of existence. Water may be liquid, solid or gaseous ; wax may be liquid, plastic or solid. These are modes of being. 7. Number. Unity (from the Latin unus, one) involves the idea of oneness. Unity is opposed to plurality (from the Latin plus, more). The world of things presents to us indi- viduals, that is, numerical units, and yet is itself one, that is, a ivhole, or system in which unity underlies the ap- parent diversity of phenomena. It is this recognition of the one in the many that has given rise to the idea of the universe (from the Latin iinus, one, and versum, turning, implying that all turns about one centre, or is a unit). Number involves (1) the establishment of a unit and (2) a process of pounting. " Number," says Bowne, " seems to adhere so closely to the objects that to know them seems to be the same as knowing their number. Yet this, again, is only the old error which identi- fies plurality in experience with experience of plurality. The very 180 PSYCHOLOGY. utmost that could be allowed would be that unity inheres in tlie object ; the conception of plurality arises only as the mind takes the separate units together. Until this is done, we have not number, but the unit repeated; the countable, but not the counted. Each object maybe one; but no object is two or three, etc. The clock may strike one repeatedly, but by no possibility can it do more. Our ears might give us the separate strokes, but they cannot hear iheir number. Hence we pass from units to number only by a process of counting, or of adding unit to anit. Number is no property of things in themselves, but only of things united by the mind in nu- merical relations."^ (3) That counting is a mental process, is evident from the remark of the half-intoxicated man who heard the clock strike three and said, "That clock must be greatly out of order, it has struck one three times!''' Unity may in the same way be re- garded as depending upon the manner in which the mind regards objects. A tree is one tree really and objectively as well as mentally, and ten trees are ten trees in like manner, but the mind may con- template the one tree as composed of a hundred branches or of ten thousand twigs. The relations of number always belong where the things are, for "number" is essentially an abstraction. For this reason we have the infinitely small as well as the infinitely large. Taking any unit, it is possible to divide and subdivide it mentally without limit. This simply signifies that the act of mind may be repeated without end, and here lies the solution of many logical puzzles. If one mental process gets the start of another, as in the famous case of Achilles and the tortoise, the belated one can never overtake the other without violating the conditions, but in reality Achilles leaps over the tortoise in the first few steps. 8. Relation. Relation (from the Latin re, back, and latum, bear- ing) involves a reference of one thing to another. This reference is based on a real connection or disposition of things as they are apprehended by us. Identity is same- ness of substance. Eolations of equality exist when things are equal in quantity. Eelations of resemblance indicate a liheness between qualities of things. Relations of co- CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 181 existence and relations of succession are also noted in out apprehension of things. Relations are not tilings and yet they are real. They are the connections which unite in- dividual things into higher unities. It is through thenio as we have seen^ that reasoning is rendered valid. The relativity of all human knowledge is affirmed by Hamilton and many other thinkers. He says, "In enouncing relativity as a condition of the thinkable, in other words, that thought is only of the relative, this is tantamount to saying that we think one thing only as we think two things mutually and at once ; which again is equivalent to a declaration that the Absolute (the non-Relative) is for us incogitable and even incognizable."'' "In this, "he says, "all philosophers are at one." It is true that the process of knowledge is a process of relating, and that nothing can be known that is out of all relation to every thing else, including the knowing subject. But it is a mistake to identify the Absolute with the non-Relative. Such an Absolute has never been thought about by any one, for the reason that it is impossible to think about it. But the real Absolute is that which is not in a relation of dependence. The Absolute is the self- gufficient, the self-subsisting, not the "non-Relative." Hamilton and his follower, Henry L. Mansel (1820-1871), who fell into Hamil- ton's error in his " Philosophy of the Conditioned " and " Limits of Religious Thought," in identifying the Absolute with the non-Rela- tive, create difficulties which have puzzled many minds and enlight- ened none. There is no real opposition between the relative and the Absolute. In thinking of Creator and created at the same time, we bring the two into relation, a relation of causality on the part of the Creator and of dependence on the part of the created. Thus the rel ative and the Absolute are related in thought and may be in reality. Herbert Spencer is in this direction a follower of Hamilton to a cei ■ tain extent, but has thus demonstrated the existence of the Absolute, although he holds that we cannot know its nature: " Observe in the first place, that every one of the arguments by which the relativity of our knowledge is demonstrated, distinctly postulates the positive existence of something beyond the relative. To say that we cannot know the Absolute, is, by implication, to affirm that there is an Ab- solute. In the very denial of our power to learn what the Absolute 182 PSYCBOLOOY. is, there lie: hidden the assumption that it is ; and the making of this assumption proves that the Absolute has been present to the mind, not as a nothing, but as a something. Similarly with every step in the reasoning by which this doctrine (the relativity of knowl- edge) is upheld. The noumenon, everywhere named as the antithesis of the phenomenon, is throughout necessarily thought of as an actu- ality. ... If the non-Relative or Absolute is preseit in thought only as a mere negation, then the relation between it and the rela- tive becomes unthinkable, because one of the terms of the relation is absent from consciousness. And if this relation is unthinkable, then is the relative itself unthinkable, for want of antithesis: whence results the disappearance of all thought whatever."' 9. Infinity. Infinity (from the Latin in, not, imd finis, end or limit) involves the aZ'se?^ce of limit. "TJie Infinite'' has been represented by Hamilton and others as a '^negative no- tion," and so it is, the same as "The Quantity'' would be if there were no positive content. But, starting with an intuition of Being, ive have a positive content. Do we reach a ^'^ negative notion" when we think away all limits, or do we retain our positive object of intuition. Being, now thought of as Infinite ? Certainly we have not destroyed the content of Being in thinking away the limits. We cannot, indeed, comprehend, or know as a whole. Infinite Being ; for a whole implies quantity, and no quantity can be infinite, for quantity involves the distinction of more or less. We may, however, say that wo apprehend Infinite Being, that is, we apprehend Being without the ability to fix any limits whatever. Being transcends our power of representation as soon as we drop the limits that bound its finite forms, but not our power of conception. We can conceive of Being as possessing qualities^ irrespective of quantity ; but we cannot repre* CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 183 sent sucli Being, for the very aot of representation is a limitation. If, having thu cehceived l^eing, we stoj) short of representation, whaft have we ? Infinite Being. Herbert Spencer has expressed his view upon this point as fol- lows: ''Our notion of the hmited is composed, first of a conscious- ness of some kind of Being, and secondly of a consciousness of the limits under which it is known. In the antithetical notion of the unlimited, the consciousness of limits is abolished; hut not the con- sciousness of some kind of Being. It is quite true that in the ab- sence of conceived limits, this consciousness ceases to be a concept properly so eaUed ; but it is none the less true that it remains as a mode of consciousness. If, in these cases, the negative contra- dictory were, as alleged (by Hamilton), 'nothing else' than the negation of the other, and therefore a mere nonentity, then it would clearly follow that negative contradictories could be used inter- changeably; the unlimited might be thought of as antithetical to the divisible; and the indivisible as antithetical to the limited. While the fact that they cannot be so used, proves that in con- sciousness the unlimited and the indivisible are qualitatively dis- tinct, and therefore positive and real; since distinction cannot exist between nothings. The error (very naturally fallen into by philoso- phers intent on demonstrating the limits and conditions of con- sciousness) consists in assuming that consciousness contains nothing but limits and conditions ; to the entire neglect of that which is limited and conditioned." ^ An American philosophical writer, George S. Fullerton (1859- ), in his work on "The Conception of the Infinite,'' has shown that the idea of the Infinite is not quantitative but qualitative. He thinks it possible to form a true concept of the Infinite. " The Infi- nite," however, is something very abstract and, without positive con- tents, is not very significant for thought, even if the concept can be formed. Unless this concept of " The Infinite " is filled with real con- tents, it seems to have only a speculative value. If, however, the view presented in the text above be correct, and the validity of a concept of "Infinite Being" is also accepted, the doctrine of Relationism (pages 145, 146) would admit an Infinite Being into our practical as well as our theoretical interests. Calderwood's ' ' Philosophy of the Infinite " may be recommended as an able treatment of the subject. 184 PSYCHOLOGY, In this section, on "Being," we have considered:- 1» Hie Reality of Being, 2, Substance and Attribute, 3. Tzvo Kinds of Being : {!) flatter and {2) Spiv*iU 4, Quantity, 5, Quality, 6. Modality* 7. Number, 8, Belation, 9. Infinity. Refericnces : (1) Locke's Essay Concerning Hitmam Understand ing^ Book II., Chapter XXIII. (2) Tyndall's Fragments of Science, p. 121. (3) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological Theory, pp. 153, 154. (4) Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 689. (5) Spencer's First Principles, pp. 88, 91. (6) Id., p. 90. SEOTIOH U. CAUSE. 1, Various Senses of the Word ** Cause.'* The general idea of a " Causa " is that without which an event called the '*^ Effect^'' cannot be. Aristotle distin- guished four kinds of causes : (1) Efficient Cause, the agency by which a change is produced ; (2) Final Cause, the directing idea, or end for which an act is performed ; (3) Material Cause, the substance of which any thing is made and without whicli it could not be ; and (4) Formal Cause, the plan that is embodied in what is done. We may simplify our discussion of the subject by confining ourselves to efficient and final causes ; for material cause is some kind of substance, and formal cause is a resruit oi final cause as a directing idea. CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 185 3. Opinions on the Nature of Efficient Cause. Various opinions have been lieltl concerning tlie nature of efficient Cause^ and it is important that these should be stated. (1) Resolution of Cause into Antecedent and Conse- quent. — According to Hume, and he is followed by the Associational School generally, our idea of Cause is noth- ing but a connection established in the mind by the asso- ciation of ideas, — antecedents in time being taken as causes, and consequents in time being regarded as effects. In this view, phenomena are considered as having no nec- essary tendency to produce one another and every thing beyond mere phenomena is denied. If this doctrine were true, day ought to be regarded as the cause of night and each preceding letter in the alphabet as the cause of the following one. Hume states his doctrine thus : "When one particular species of events has always, in all instances, been conjoined with another, we make no scruple of foretelling one upon the appearance of the other and of employing that reasoning which can alone assure us of any matter of fact or existence. We then call the one object Cause, the other Effect." He then goes on to point out that a number of in- stances differ from a single instance in nothing but the power to create a habit of thought in us, so that we come to think of things conjoined in time as sustaining the relation of cause and effect, " a conclusion," he admits, "which is somewhat extraordinary, but which seems founded on sufficient evidence."^ J. S. Mill attempts to improve the doctrine of Hume as follows : " Invariable sequence . . . is not synonymous with causation, unless the sequence, besides being invariable, is unconditional." ^ He de- fines "unconditional " as "subject to no other than negative condi- tions," and explains that "negative conditions . . . may all bo summed up under one head, namely, the absence of preventmg oi 186 PSYCHOLOGY. counteracting causes," ' Mill seems to be unable to state the case without involving the unexplained idea of "cause." (2) Resolution of Cause into Subjective Experience. — A French philosopher, Maine de Biran (17G6-1824), ad- vanced the doctrine that, as active agents, we have an immediate knowledge of efficient cause in our own con- scious acts, from which we infer that all events have effi- cient causes. It cannot be denied that we consciously cause certain acts, but this alone does not warrant us in concluding that all external j)henomena are produced in like manner. Such an inference would be an act of in- duction, and no process of induction is valid unless the Law of Universal Causation is assumed (see page 164). The reasoning, then, is in a circle. While the doctrine of De Biran does not explain our knowledge of causation, it serves to refute the position of Hume, for it gives us knowledge of causes in actual experience. This, of course, Hume ienies, but he also denies many other facts well attested by the com- mon consciousness and capable of being tested by any individual consciousness. Each one must determine for himself whether or not he is consciously causative in the sense intended. (3) Resolution of Cause into a Relation of Concepts. — Kant and other German philosophers have resolved Cause into a mere form of thought imposed by the mind itself, and not existent as a relation between things. It thus becomes merely a necessary relation of concepts. We must think of causes, although they may not really exist. Here Kant^s characteristic reference of Being to the forms of Knowing, instead of regarding Knowing as a correlate of Being and dependent upon it, is again manifested, as it is also in his treatment of Time and Space. WhocTer CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 187 has accepted the doctrine of Relationism (pages 145, 146) will have no difficulty in seeing that the relation of causo and effect must exist where things exist. Kant says ; "In order that this (the relation of phenomena) may be known as determined, it is necessary to conceive the relation be- tween the two states in such a way that it should be determined thereby with necessity, which of the two should be taken as coming first, and which as second, and not conversely. Such a concept, in- volving a necessity of synthetical unity, can be a pure concept of the Understanding only, which is not supplied by experience, and this is, in this case, the concept of the relation of cause and effect, the former determining the latter in time as the consequence, not as something that by imagination might as well be antecedent, or not to be perceived at all." * (4) Resolution of Cause into an Impotenoy of Mind.— Hamilton advances a singular explanation of the idea of Cause. He holds that^, having once thought of Being, it is impossible to think of it as not e"xisting. It must be thought of as existing in time. We cannot, therefore, think of it as not existing in any period of j^ast time or any period of future time. Thus we have a certain com- plement of Being that could not have originated from nothing and cannot be annihilated in thought. The phe- nomena presented in this complement of Being at any time can, therefore, be thought of only as modifications of the phenomena of past time. The present phenomena we call " effects "* and the past phenomena '' causes.^' Our idea of Cause thus results from our innbility to think of Being as non-existent. The idea of Cause, however, is essentially that of efficiency, or productive power, in Being. It is Being in action. Being might exist without becom- ing the cause of anything. Hamilton's exposition is 188 PSYCHOLOGY. simply a very awkward way of saying that we cannot think of something as derived from nothings which is better expressed in the words^ ''Every event has a cause/' Hamilton says : "When we are aware of something which begins to be, we are by the necessity of our intelligence constrained to be- lieve that it has a cause. But what does the expression, ' that it has a cause,' signify ? If we analyze our thought, we shall find that it rimply means that as we cannot conceive any new existence to com- mence, therefore, all that now is seen to arise under a new appear- ance had previously an existence under a prior form." " Ux nihilo nihil, in nihilum nil posse reverti, — 'Nothing can arise from noth- ing, nothing can return to nothing,' " — expresses in its purest form the whole intellectual phenomenon of causality.^ (5) Resolution of the idea of Cause into an Intuition. — The Scotch philosophers generally since Reid have consid- ered the idea of Cause as an intuition. It is intuitively known that every event must have a cause, that is, some- thing has efficiently, produced it. Of conditions, some are passive. These may he called '* occasions." Others are active, and these may be called " causes." If a run- away horse kills a child in the street, the child's being in the way is the occasion and the blow from the horse is the cause of its death. All we can say is, that we know intu- itively that every event must have a cause, and all our experience exemplifies this truth. The knowledge of cau- sality does not, however, arise before but in experience. It will not do to say that causation is simply a form of intelli- gence and not also a law of things. So far as we have knowledge of things, the law applies to them. We assume it in our earliest as well as in our latest mental activities, and expect to find a cause even for those events which seem inexplicable. Causality seems to be a structural law of both mind and matter. It is like a law of thought, perfectly obvious and undeniable the moment it is stated. It is not CONSTUUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 189 necessary to know liow we can know a universal law, in order to be sure of it. The conviction lies deeper than all the processes of knowledge. Those who have sought to weaken confidence in the reality of causation have themselves always assumed it. The case ijs excellently stated by Bowne : "Ail the manifold ' explanations' which Sensationalism has vouchsafed to a long-suffering world con- sist in showing how antecedent mental states must determine new mental states, according to the laws of association ; and as for sen- scions, most Sensationalists have had no hesitation in referring them to external causes without scruple, or even suspicion of the incon- eistency. Concerning any conception of our mature life, we are warned against taking it as an original mental fact. We are told how it came about as a deposit of experience, either in us or in our ancestors. If a suggestion of freedom is made, it is frowned upon forthwith as one of the most unscientific ideas possible, if not a trace of an antiquated superstition. But if Sensationalism be ad- mitted, all this is hopelessly inconsistent. No idea is, or is as it is, kcause any other idea was; rather some ideas were and some other ideas are If anything is or occurs, we must not ask why; for there is no why ! Thus all the explanations of Sensationalism disappear, and by sheer excess the doctrine cancels itself."^ 3. Final Cause. Final Cause (causa jinalis) is thus explained by Aris- totle : '^Another sort of cause is the ejid, that is to say, that on account of which the action is done ; for examj^Ie, in this sense, health is the cause of taking exercise. Why does such a one take exercise ? We say it is i7i order to have good health ; and, in speaking thus, we mean to name the cause." It is the final cause that is inquired after in the question, ivliat for ? Efficient causes are re- garded as determining present effects from the 2)ast ; that is, my previous strength is the efficient cause of my taking exercise, without which I could not take it. Final causes are regarded as determining present effects through rela- 190 PSYCHOLOGY. tion to the future, that is, I would not take tha exercise, if it were not for tlie health I hoj^e to gain by it. Aa Kant has expressed it, final cause involves '^the predeter- mination of the parts by the idea of the whole/' 4. The Principle of Final Cause. The maxim, '' Every ieiiig has mi end" was stated by the French philosopher, T. S. Jouffroy (1796-1842), as a constitutive principle, co-ordinate with the principle of Causality. It seems better to regard it as a special case under that principle. Adaptations are among the com- mon phenomena of experience. They surround us on every side. They are effects, and must be referred tc adequate causes for their explanation. They are simply ?~ special class of effects. They differ from other effects in implying that in the production of one object, as for ex- ample the human eye, there was a combination of efficient causes with reference to something other than itself, as for example light, so that vision is the result of the adapta- tion. This combination is what needs to be explained, and requires a cause capable of foreseeing and providing for the end to be attained. It is said by some philosophers that final cause, or intelligent pur- pose, does not exist, except in man's own activities and in his own thought of external things. Tliis tendency to think of general ac- tion as implying an end, or purpose, as personal action does, has received the name of Anthropomorphism (from the Greek dvdpoTTog, anthropos, man, and fjiop^ii, morphe, form), implying that this is only a fashion of human thinking, without objective validity. Those who have repudiated teleology (from the Greek TE'Xo^;, telos, end, and ^oyog, logos), and have attempted to reduce everything to mechanism, have never been able to avoid involving the idea of final cause even in their statements of their owii doctriije. Ernst Haeck^l CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 19i 1834- ), the German naturalist, says: "Inheritance is the cen- tripetal or internal formative tendency which strives to keep the organic form in its species, to form the descendants like the parents and always to ijroduce identical things from generation to genera- tion. Adaptation, on the other hand, w^hich counteracts Inher= itance, is the centrifugal or external formative tendency, which con- stantly strives to change the organic forms through the influence of the varying agencies of the outer world, to create new forms out of those existing, and entirely to destroy the constancy or permanency of species.'"'' Here are '^formative tendencies''^ ^^ striving'''' to realize different ends and actually succeeding ! And yet Haeckel says, "We concede exclusive dominion to that view of the universe which we may designate as the mechanical and which is opposed to the teleological conception."^ Is it possible that a "formative ten' dency" "striving" "to keep" and "to form," "to change," and "to create" should be mechanical and not teleological ? Take also Herbert Spencer's definition of "life." He says : "Life is defina- ble as the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations."® Such an " adjustments^ embodies the teleological prin- ciple, the use of means for the accomplishment of ends. A machine never adjusts itself. It is itself an adjustment of forces related as means to ends. And yet Spencer rejects all teleology and even the presence of a "formative power" such as Haeckel describes.^'' No naturalist has ever yet been able to state the facts and conditions of organic life and development ivithout involving the teleological idea, however stoutly he may deny the reality of a final cause. 5. Distinctions of Teleological Terms, There are certain terms whose equivalents are to be found in all developed languages^ that need to be ex- plained, in order to enable us to apply the principle of final cause. These are as follows : (1) Chance. — Affirming that an event has come by *' chance " is not a denial that it has an efficient cause. Chance is the combination of several systems of causes w^hich are developed each in its own series independently 192 PSYCHOLOGY. of the others. Thus, two meu start out of their houses to go about their affairs, each without reference to the other. If they meet, they meet by chance, because two discon- nected systems of forces bring them together. If a person sends for them both at the same time, with the intention that they shall meet, they meet by his design. The French philosopher, Paul Janet (1823- ), in his admirable work on "Final Causes," says: " It sometimes occurs — often, even — that two series of plienomena happen together, yet without our being able to say that they have any action upon each other; and it is even a pleasure to our mind to find out what will happen in this case. For instance, if, in the game of rouge-et-noir I bet that the black will win, and it wins accordingly, it is clear that my desire and my word could not have had any influence on the winning of one color or the other, and likewise that the arrangement of the cards, which I did not know, could not have had any influence on the choice I have made. In this case two series of facts, absolutely independent of each other, have happened to coincide with each other, and to harmonize, without any mutual influence. This kind of coincidence is what is called chance ; and it is upon the very uncertainty of this coincidence that the pleasure, and at the same time, the terrible temptation, of games of hazard rests." ^^ It is evident, then, that chance is not an entity, not a cause, but simply a relation between two series of causes and effects acting inde- pendently. The explanation of anything, therefore, is not to be found in chance, but in the series of causes whose results happen to be combined. (2) Adaptation. — A fitness of one thing for another is called "'adaptation." It may be a chance adaptation, that is, result Avithout design, but where the points of fit= ness are numerous the probability of chance is eliminated and we are forced to look for design. Other adaptations are known to be designed. Design is a true cause, that is, it is a superintending and directing power. CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 193 Janet gives the following beautiful illustration of adaptation be- tween the conditions of life in the egg of a bii'd and tlie external conditions to which it is adapted: " On the outside there is a phys- ical agent called light; within, there is fabricated an optical machine atlapted to light: outside, there is an agent called sound; inside, an acoustic machine adapted to sound : outside, vegetables and ani- mals ; inside, stills and alembics adapted to the assimilation of these substances: outside, a medium, solid, liquid or gaseous; inside, a thousand means of locomotion, adapted to the air, the earth or the water. Thus, on the one hand, there are the final phenomena called sight, hearing, nutrition, flying, walking, swimming, etc. ; on the other, the eyes, the ears, the stomach, the wings, the fins, the motive members of every sort. We see clearly in these examples the two terms of the relation, — on the one hand, a system ; on the other, the final phenomena in which it ends. Were there only system and combination, as in crystals, still, as we have seen, there must have been a special cause to explain that syslein and that combination." " The external physical world and the internal laboratory of the liv- ing being are separated from each other by impenetrable veils, and yet they are united to each other by an incredible pre-established harmony. " ^^ (3) Order. — A regular succession or arrangement ol events or objects involves what is called ^^ order." A fixed and unchanging order needs to be accounted for as well as a new and unfolding order, but it does not attract our attention so powerfully. The established order does not seem so wonderful as a departure from it, but it is really more so, because it is more perfect. Order cannot be produced by chance, for the conditions of chance neces- sitate the absence of order and a series of chances which would i:>roduce disorder. The only explanation of order is design. ' ' The invisible agreement of phenomena must be explained like each visible phenomenon taken separately ; this co-ordination is an effect which must have its cause. For example, the geometrical 194 PSYCHOLOGY. forms which minerals take in crystallizing may not, indeed, reveal any final cause ; but no one will venture to say that this geometri»3 arrangement is an indifferent fact of which it is useless to seek the cause, and that it is by chance and by a simple coincidence that the molecules of such a mineral always happen to arrange themselves under the form of a hexahedron, of a dodecahedron, for that which happens in a constant manner cannot be the effect of a mere acci- dent." i^ (4) Correlation. — When the j^arts of a whole are related to one another as ends and means, they are said not onlj to be adapted and to constitute an order, hut they are cor- related. Kant says, " The organized being is the being in Avhich all is reciprocally end and means. ^^ Thus, the human body as an organism is a correlated whole in which each organ is at once an end and a means. Here adapta tions multiply and become exceedingly complex, so as to exclude chance as an explanation and necessitate the hypothesis of design. When treating of Imagination, it was stated that no one had imagined a new animal. The reason is found in the nature of an organism, or correlated interdependence of organs. The great nat- uralist Cuvier said: "In order that the claws may be able to seize, a certain mobility in the toes will be necessary, a certain strength in the nails, whence there will result determinate forms in all the }>halanges and necessary distributions of muscles and of tendons. It will be necessary that the fore-arm have a certain ease in turning, whence, again, will result determinate forms to the bones which compose it. But the bones of the fore-arm, being articulated on the humerus, cannot change their forms without involving changes in the latter. . . . The play of all these parts will require certain proportions in all their muscles and the impressions of these muscles, thus proportioned, will again determine more particularly the form of the bones." '* While the comparative anatomist may be able from a single bone to reconstruct in fancy the whole animal to which it be- longed, with this datum to work upon, no one has possessed the power CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 195 to create mentally an entire animal organism that would fulfill all the complicated conditions of organic life. (5) Convergence. — There are cases where the adapta- tions converge upon a single point, marking it as the end toward which all the efficient causes have worked. Thus, all the parts of so highly complicated a structure as the eye are means to the one ideal end of sight. Here the past has been determined by an end that has relation to the future. The idea seems to have existed somewhere before the organ, and the organ has been adapted to its function by the converging action of many efficient causes. If we fix our attention upon any definite combination of matter in the structure of the eye, it is evident that it was put there by effi- cient causes. Final cause does not, then, exclude efficient causes 01 render them unnecessary. But the special problem i)^ to explain the combination, internal and external, to be found in the eye. Whac has combined and directed these efficient causes in the formation of an eye ? If we say it is the reaction of light upon sensitive iierve- substance, we simply push \,^k the problem, but it remains a prob- lem still. What directing power combined the sensitive elements in the nerve-substance and endowed them with sensibility ? What power adapted the light to the rudimentary possibility of an eye, so as to effect its development ? By pushing back the problem we only broaden and deepen it. It shows us more and more clearly the range and extent of adaptations throughout the entire universe. Even the German philosopher, Eduard von Hartmann (1842- ), who has denied all conscious7iess of plan and purpose in the uni- verse, outside of finite creatures, admits an unconscious teleology, an inherent final cause in every form of being, and even makes it the basis of his " Philosophy of the Unconscious." 6. Conditions Implied in Final Cause, Final cause implies as its necessary conditions : (1) Fore- knowledge of tb') end before the causes are combiri^d for X96 PSYCnOLOQY. its realization ; (2) Determination to realize the end ; (3) Supremacy over the efficient causes by which alone the end can be realized. To this doctrine of final causes there is but one scientific objection. It is, that final causes are anthropornorj^hic. Efiicient causes, it is said, are necessary to account for all phenomena ; but final causes exist only in the mind of man. But are efficient causes, as known or knowable by the mind of man, any less anthropomorphic ? In truth, no explanation can satisfy the mind of man but one that is anthropomorphic, for that alone can be an explanation to him which resolves phenomena into terms of his own i".ature and experience, and what is this but anthrop; ■ morphism ? When Haeckel and others speak reproach fully of final causes because they are anthropomorphic, they should remember that efficient causes, as known ana reasoned about by man, are not less anthropomorphic. Ir order to reason correctly, must man abnegate the very rational nature by which alone he is able to reason at all ? The reason why mechanical forces alone do not explain the universe to man is precisely this : tliey are not an- thropomorjjliic enough to account for man. If man is to have any explanation of his existence, which his rational nature has always demanded and still demands, he must find it either by explaining the uni- verse in terms of personality, or by explaining liis own personality in impersonal terms. And let us remember here that evolution is not unfavorable to a personal ex- planation, because evolution is only a formal and not a causal theory. It tells hoiv, but not ^vhy. It gives the process, but not the cause. In seeking the cause we may fairly fix upon the highest product of evolution and do- CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 197 mand for this an adequate explanation. And, again, as there is advance from low to high modes of being in the line of evolution, it is fair to regard the permanent cause as transcending the lowest form of being, or else the cause would not be adequate to the production of the highest. The cause may be for a time unmanifested in the effect, but it must exist latently or it could not be adequate for the highest and final effect. Evolution, therefore, in- volves the existence of a transcendent cause, to render the progress possible. Otherwise, the cause would be ex- hausted in the first effect and further development would not follow. The highest mode of being directly known to us is pe7'S07iaUti/, — rational, self-determining intelli- gence. If there be a higher, and this is possible, it must still be conceived by us under this form. Nothing less than personality can explain personality. Nothing can be an explanation to me that is not in terms of my own nature. What I know directly in consciousness is thought, feeling and volition. To translate these into anything else is to substitute new thought for old, but it is thought still, or it is nothing intelligible. To say that thought is the result of matter or of force, is to say nothing, until the nature of matter or force is made plain to me, and then it has been translated into thought again. When matter and force have been explained to me, I find the explanation in the hnoiuledge finally given. Abstract the knowledge, and we spoil the explanation. Thought, then, is ultimate. Matter and force are but phases of thought, so far as they mean anything to me. They must be thought hy me before they are an explanation, but when they are my thought the explanation is found in the thought about them, they do not explain the thought. 198 PSYCHOLOOT. I am a force working for rational ends. I require, there- fore, to account for myself, a rational cause. 7. The Ultimate Cause. All phenomena, being events, are caused. All the facts of human experience, — the birth and development of every living being and the formation of the earth and the other planets, — are iihenomena that have appeared in an or- dered succession of events. If nothing exists but phe- nomena, we must allow thought to follow back the series of events and causes without limit, that is, to infinity, without ever coming upon ix first cause. If, however, we admit the existence of Absolute Being, we arrive at last at an Ultimate Cause ; which, not being an event, but Self- sufficient Being, is not the result of any cause. This is, undoubtedly, a necessity of human thought. The mind rests at last upon the Self-existent, the Absolute and Ultimate. An American thinker, J. Lewis Diman (1831-1881), has very forci- bly expressed this necessity of thought as follows : ' ' Accepting this principle, which no one will deny, that for every event there must be a cause, the question next arises, How far does it legitimately carry us ? The notion that the principle of causality can only be abstractly applied, has led some to argue that it can only result in an eternal succession of causes and effects. We have, then, to ask the question. What can be evolved from the idea of cause as it exists in our own minds ? Does this idea demand finality, or is it satisfied with an endless series ? In other words, does the same necessity of thought, which requires us to believe in cause at all, require us equally to believe in a first cause ? The objector may urge, ' I hold to causation, but why must I believe in a first cause ? What greater difficulties are there in an infinite succession of causes than in an original and self-existent cause ? Both are absolutely incompre- hensible ; both raise difficulties which I cannot solve. But why CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 199 compel me to choose one of these dilemmas rather than the other?' The objection, at first sight, seems plausible, but loses its force when we reflect that an infinite series does not make a cause, and a cause is precisely what reason here demands. Tlie real alteimative does not lie hettveen an infinite series and a first cause, but hetiveen uccepting a first cause, or rejecting the idea of cause altogether." '* In this section, on " Cause," we have considered :— 1, Various Senses of the Word ^^ Cause.'' 2, Opinions on the Nature of Efficient Cause. 3, Final Cause, 4, The Principle of Final Cause, 5, Distinctions of Teleological Terms, 6, Conditions Implied in Filial Cause, 7, The Ultimate Cause, References : (1) Hume's Works, pp. 87, 89. (2) Mill's System of Logic, p. 245. (3) Id., p. 241. (4) Kant's Critique of Pure Reason (Miiller's Translation), Vol. I., p. 4?2. (5) Hamilton's Metaphysics, p. 689. (6) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological Hieory, pp. 169, 170. (7) Haeckel's History of Creation (Lan- kester's Translation), Vol. I., p. 253. (8) Id., p. 17. (9) Spencer's First Principles, p. 84. (10) Spencer's Biology, Vol. I., p. 404. (11) Janet's Final Causes (Affleck's Translation), pp. 18, 19. (12) Id., p. 42. (13) Id., p. 27. (14) Quoted by Janet, Id., p. 48. (15) Diman's The Theistic Argument, pp. 84, 85, 200 PSYCHOLOGY, SECTION III* SPACE. 1. Relations of Co-existing Bodies. Every finite being has position, or is somewliere, Posi* tion, considered apart from the properties of matter, is a point, having location but not dimensions. Position^ however, is a relation between bodies, determined by direction. This is indicated by a line connecting the points of position. A line possesses length but not breadth or thickness. Since a line between two points may be divided into parts, bodies are separated by dis- tance, which is represented by the number of lines of a certain standard length, or unit of measurement, con- tained in the line drawn between the bodies. Lines may be so combined as to form surfaces, which have length and breadth but not thickness. Surfaces may be so com- bined as to form solids, which have position, length, breadth and thickness combined, that is, magnitude. All material forms of being have magnitude. Bodies co-exist in the relations of position, direction, distance and mag- nitude. Bodies may be conceived as not existing, but if they exist they must exist in these relations. They are necessary conditions of material existence. They ard grouped together under the name Space. "The first condition of spatial experience seems to lie in th« extensity of sensation. This much we may allow is original : for the longer we reflect the more clearly we see that no combination or association of sensations varying only in intensity and quality, not CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 201 even if motor presentations were added, will account for the space- element in our perceptions. A series of touches a, b, c, d, may be combined with a series of movements m^, m^, m^, m^\ both series may be reversed ; and finally the touches may be produced simul- taneously. In this way we can attain the knowledge of the co-exist- ence of objects that have a certain ciuasi-distance between tbem, and such experience is an important element in our perception of space ; but it is not the whole of it. For, as has been already remarked by critics of the associationist psychology, we have an experience very similar to this in singing and hearing the musical notes of the chro- matic scale. The most elaborate attempt to get exten^ity out of suc- cession and co-existence is that of Herbert Spencer. He has done, perhaps, all that can be done, and only to make it the more plain that the entire procedure is a hysteron-proteron. We do not first experience a succession of touches or of retinal excitations by means of movements, and then, when these impressions are simultaneously presented, regard them as extensive, because they are associated with or symbolize the original series of movements; but, before and apart from the movement altogether, we experience that massiveness or extensity of impressions in which movements enable us to find positions, and also to measure." ^ Such a primary knowledge of space-filling sensation may be called intuitive. It does not include a definite knowledge of space-relations, however. These are ac- quired by analyzing the extensity presented to consciousness by each and all of the senses, but preeminently by touch. As was stated on page 51, "extension, or space-occupancy, seems to be a datum in every actual experience of Sense-perception." 2. Space, Extension, and Immensity Distinguished. Space^ extension, and immensity should be discriminated as follows : (1) Space is a relation of co-existence between material bodies. (2) Extension is the attribute of continuity in matter. (3) Immensity is the attribute of immeasurability ic Infinite Being. 202 PSYCHOLOGY. " When it is said that we cannot in thought reach the limits ol space, the reference is clearly to an effort of the Imagination in stretching out one beyond the other a succession of marks symbolic of limitation, such as imaginary pillars, or constantly enlarging cir- cumferences of circles. In such an effort of the Imagination we are not dealing with space at all, since space has no application [except iJeally] to our mental energies. . . . The attempt to advance the pillars still farther onward, or to enlarge the circles, is purely an effort of Imagination working with the symbols of external realities, and nothing more. In prosecuting the effort there is progression in time, or the succession in mental states, but there is positively no progression whatever in space." ^ We cannot, therefore, speak of space as infinite, except in an ideal sense. If we let Imagination wander off in any direction, there is nothing to hinder its going on as long as we have the strength to keep up this imaginary motion. The process is, in this sense, endless. Real space is both actually and ideally immeasurable. No telescope has penetrated to the ut- most bounds of the actual universe of matter. However extended the universe may be, there must be space outside. If, however, we pause to ask. What is this space outside ? the only answer is nothing, emptiness, pure vacuity, and yet sustaining certain relations of posi- tion, direction and distance to other localities. But suppose the whole universe of matter destroyed, what positions, directions and distances would remain? An infinite number of possible but no actual ones. But we continue to think of space-relations when the universe is abolished, we think of the place where it ivas ! We learn from this that the idea of space is a structural principle of thought. 3. Space a Relation, not a Substance or an At- tribute. We have distinguished space as a relation of co-exist- ence. It has often been treated as an entity and as an attribute of Being. If it be anything at all^ and not a mere nothing, it is either a substance, an attribute of a substance, or a relation. Let us examine these three sup- positions : CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 203 (1) Space is not a substance. — This is evident from its not possessing any attributes. It has none of the positive qualities of Being. It is described negatively, except when considered as a relation between real beings. Re- move from a given position the substance that occupies it, and space remains simply as a relation between the sur- rounding bodies. (2) Space is not an attribute of a substance. — This is evident from its not being removed when a substance is taken away. The extension of a body, that is, its conti- nuity, is an attribute, but it goes with the body when it is removed. Space remains behind to show the relations in which the body existed. (3) Space is a relation of co-existence between material bodies. — Between separated bodies, that is, between bodies having any "space'' between them, there is a relation of position, a relation of direction, and a relation of distance, ■ — and there is nothing more. Space is these relations ; or, more generally, the relation of co-existence. It would be idle to attempt to trace the vagaries of the philosoph- ical mind in relation to the nature of space. Its negative character has permitted thinkers to deal with " space " with the same freedom that Hegel employed in dealing with the "idea," that is, to take almost any liberties that fancy might suggest ! Truth is so much more important than error that a passage like the following, by \ Calderwood, is of more value than whole chapters ^ like some that might be readily referred to in treatises on Psychology and Philoso- j)hy: "What we have been accustomed to denominate Space is the recognized relation of extended objects, and as it apphes exclusively to what is extended, it has no appUcation whatever to mind and its operations. If we admit of the distinction between empty space and occupied space, what is called empty space is the relative position of two bodies, or the distance which separates them, and is capable of being .Pleasured by the same standard as the extended surface of the 204 PSYCHOLOGY. objects themselves. If extension be considered as equivalent to space, which I am inclined to deny, then it is a perceived quality of objects, and it may be said in a sense capable of vindication, that we see space. In this application alone can it be said with apprecia- ble meaning that space is an 'extensive quantity.' I conceive, however, that the term space is more usually and properly applied to what has been designated empty space, in contrast to extended surface. And such empty space is nothing more than the relative distance of extended objects from each other, measured on a standard similar to that which applies to the bodies themselves. In this way it is equally accurate to say that there is a certain specified distance between the bodies, and that there is nothing between them, because space is nothing but their relation to each other. " * 4, The Objectivity of Space. Kant has treated space as a mere internal form of the mind, rather than as an objective and real relation of external phenomena. In opposition to this, we may say that the objectivity of space rests npon the same founda- tion as the objectivity of matter ; for the relations of a thing must be where the thing itself is. The doctrine of Relationism is opposed to the whole Kantian scheme of Subjectivism. Space is both a constitutive relation of bodies and a regulative law of mind, not a mere category of the mind itself. Kant says : "Space is nothing but the form of the phenomena of all external senses ; it is a subjective condition of our sensibility, without which no external intuition is possible for us. If, then, we consider that the receptivity of the subj ect, its capacity of being af- fected by objects, must necessarily precede all intuition of objects, we shall understand how the form of all phenomena may be given before all real perceptions, may be, in fact, a priori in the soul, and may, as a pure intuition, by which all objectively must be determined, contain, prior to all experience, principles regulating their relations. It is, therefore, from the human standpoint onl^ CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 205 that we can speak of space, extended objects, etc. If we drop the subjective condition under which alone we can gain external intui- tion, according as we ourselves may be affected by objects, the repre- sentation of space means nothing." ^ It is "from the human stand- point only" that we can speak of anything. Of course "space means nothing " to us, except as it is known by us ! Here is a root of skepticism that should be pulled up. If we must always think of things as in space, it is because they are in space. So far as we have any knowledge, or suspicion, on the subject, things are in space from a "canine" or "feline" standpoint quite as much as from a "hu- man " standpoint. Kant's " only," as here employed, is either mean- ingless or else it is a great leap in the dark. If the town in which I live is outside of me, the space in which it stands is also outside of me, not only as a necessity of my thinking, but as a necessity of its own existence. 5. Keal and Ideal Space. The truth in Kant's doctrine is^ that space is not onl'§ objective and real, but also subjective and ideal. These two are not the same. The houses of a town exist in real space. My representative ideas of those houses are dis- posed in my consciousness in ideal space. Real space is the relation between real bodies. Ideal space is the rela- tion between subjective ideas of bodies. All the ptroducts of Imagination are arranged in space. Vast cathedrals, whole cities, the entire solar system, as apprehended by the mind, are thus represented in ideal space, in con- sciousness. In the flight of Imagination from the earth to the most distant star, the conscious subject does not leave the narrow boundaries of a few inches, — the dimen- sions of his cranium I "Animals," says Spencer, "having great locomotive powers are not likely to have the same conceptions of given spaces as animals 1,/hose locomotive powers are very small, To a creature so con' 206 PSYCHOLOOY. Btructed that its experiences of the larger spaces around have been gained by long and quick bounds, distances can scarcely present the aspects they do to a creature which traverses them by slow and many steps. The dimensions of our bodies and the spaces moved through by our limbs, serve us as standards of comparison with environing dimensions; and conceptions of smallness or largeness result, ac- cording as these environing dimensions are much less or much greater than the organic dimensions. Hence, the consciousness of a given relation of two positions in space, must vary quantitatively with bodily bulk. Clearly, a mouse, which has to run many times its own length to traverse the space which a man traverses at a stride, cannot have the same conception of this space as a man. Quantitative changes in these compound relations of co-existence are traceable by each person in his own mental history, from childhood to maturity. Distances which seemed great to the boy seem moder- ate to the man ; and buildings once thought imposing in height and mass, dwindle into insignificance. The physiological state of the organism also modifies quantitatively this form of consciousness to a considerable extent. De Quincey, describing some of his opium dreams, says that ' buildings and landscapes were exhibited in pro- portions so vast as the bodily eye is not fitted to receive. Space swelled, and was amplified to an extent of unutterable infinity.' It is not an uncommon thing with nervous subjects to have illusive perceptions in which the body seems enormously extended; even to the covering an acre of ground." * In this section, on " Space," we have considered :— 1, Relations of Co-exist hir/ Bodies, 2» Space f Extension and Immensity Distinguished. 3. Space a Relation, not a Substance or an Attri- bute. 4. The Objectivity of Space. 5. Ileal and Ideal Space. References : (1) James Ward's Psychology (Encyclopfedia Britanr nica XX.), p. 53. (2) Calderwood's Philosophy of the Infinite, pp. 333, 334. (3) For examination of writers on Space and references, see Cocker's Theistic Conception of the World, pp. 68, 75. (4) Cai- CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 207 derwood's Philosophy of the Infinite, pp. 331, 332. (5) Kaut'« Critique of Pure Reason (Max Miiller's Translation), II., pp. 23, 24 (6) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, Part IL, Chapter III. SECTIOIT lY* TIME. 1. Relations of Successive Phenomena. Every event begins at some instant. It constitutes one of a series, and appears in an order of succession. Suc- cession involves the relation of antecedent and conse- quent, that is, events are distinguished as before and after. A single instant gives us one, or a unit. By the addition of units we obtain a numerical quantity. There are concurrent successions of events, the successive in- stants of which may be numbered. Taking some one of the units as a standard, these quantities may be measured by the number of times clie standard is contained in the quantities. An event beginning at some instant may also end at some instant. Its continuance from its beginning to its end is called its duration. All events have dura- tion. As related to one another, they exist in the rela- tion of antecedent and consequent, unless they are con- temporary. Events may be thought of as never occurring, but if they occur they occur in these relations. These are the necessary conditions of the occurrence of events. They are grouped together under the name Time. The experience of succession requires as its condition the perma- nence of the knowing »elf during the period of the experience of 208 PSYCHOLOGY. such succession. Here, as everywhere, we see how inadt quale is the theory of self which resolves it into a mere flow and succession of sensations. That which compares the past and the present must itself have duration as the condition of such relating activity. This is so obvious that it is difficult to see how any one could ever have overlooked it. But the power to know is quite as essential to this activity as duration of being. Hence the futility of every attempt to derive the knowing power from the series of sensations which requires it as the necessary precondition of their being known. 2. Time, Duration and Eternity Distinguished. Time, duration and eternity should be distifiguished as follows : (1) Time is a relation of succession between events or phenomena. (2) Duration is the attribute of continuance in events or phenomena. (3) Eternity is the attribute of unlimited duration in. Infinite and Absolute Being. 3. Time a Relation, not a Substance or an Attri- bute. Like space, time has often been treated as if it were a substance or an attribute. Examination will show that it is neither, but simply a relation. (1) Time is not a substance. — It possesses no attributes. Except as a relation between phenomena, there is nothing by which it may be distinguished. (2) Time is not an attribute of a substance. — Substances have being during changes which occur in time, but time is not a quality that may be attributed to any substance. Continuance is an attribute of substance as it is of phe- nomena, but this is duration. CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 209 (3) Time is a relation. — What we call an ''hour" is simply the twenty-fourth part of a day, or period during which the earth revolves on its axis. It notes a series of changes, and is wholly meaningless except as we imagine change. It is the relation of succession between these changes. 4. The Objectivity of Time. Kant has denied the objectivity of time, in the same manner and on the same ground as the objectivity of space. Can we convince ourselves that time-relations did not really subsist between the geological epochs, and that time applies to them only in our own minds ? If not, we shall be obliged to dissent from this form of Subjectivism also and accei^t the objectivity of time. Kant says : "Time is simply a subjective condition of our (human) intuition (which is always sensuous, that is, so far as we are affected by objects), but by itself, apart from the subject, nothing."* 5. Real and Ideal Time. Time, like space, is both real and ideal. All our products of Imagination are grouped in the relation of time. It is possible for us to imagine geological epochs in a few moments of time. This shows that time is a mere relation that may exist between purely imaginary phenomena as well as between actual events. '' The flight of time," as we call it, depends upon subjective conditions. Eeal time, as measured by the sun or by clocks and watches, may be very ''long," that is, include a great many successive motions, while ideal time cover- ing the same interval may be very "short," or vice versa. 210 PSYCHOLOGY. This is the truth expressed in tlie lines of Bailey's "Festus": " We live in deeds, not j'ears ; in tlioughts, not breaths ; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives Who thinks most— feels the noblest— acts the best." " Subjective rhythms, partly of the vital functions and partly of the locomotive functions, mark out consciousness into tolerably regular intervals ; thus yielding measures between states of consciousness otherwise caused — standards of duration. Hence a small creature, in which these rhythms are very rapid, must have a consciousness of a given objective interval widely iinliko the consciousness of it pos- sessed by a large animal, whose rhythms are relatively very slow. A gnat's wings make ten or fifteen thousand strokes per second. Each stroke implies a separate nervous action. Each such nervous action, or change in a nervous centre, is probably as appreciable by the gnat as is a quick movement of the arm by a man. And if this, or any- thing like this, is the fact, then the time occupied by a given external change, measured by many movements in the one case, must seem much longer than it seems in the other case, when measured by a single movement. . . . Whatever exalts the vital activities antl so makes mental impressions stronger, exaggerates the conceptions of durations. This is notably the case in persons under the influence of opium. Detailing his experiences of this influence, De Quincey says that he sometimes seemed ' to have lived 70 or 100 years in one night ; ' nay, to have had ' feelings representative of a millennium passed in that time, or, however, of a duration far beyond the limits of any human experience.' . . . Intervals of time, like intervals of space, become apparently small in proportion to their remoteness. An evening spent at a friend's house, seems of considerable length when looked back upon at the moment of departure. When recalled a week after, it subtends by no means so great an angle in conscious- ness ; and the angle it subtends in consciousness when we are re- minded of it a year after, is very small." * 6. The Relation of Space and Time to each other. Space is a relation of co-existence and time is a relation of succession. The same realities exist in both relations. CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 211 Thus^ the earth co-exists with the other bodies in the solar system and constantly changes its relation of co-existence by its motions. Motion involves the relations of both space and time. The earth rotates on its axis 365 times while it is making one revolution round the sun. Thus space is the measure of time, and time is the measure of space. Given the time and the velocity, we can calculate the distance ; or given the distance and the velocity, we can calculate the time. Thus all our measures of time are motions in space, the revolution of the earth round the sun making a "year,^^ the rotation of the earth on its axis making a " day,^' and a certain number of oscillations of a pendulum making an " hour." Hence the adjectives a^iplied to space come to be applied also to time, and we speak of a '' long " time and a " short " time. We usually mean by these terms to indicate duration ; but duration is measured by time, that is, by the number of successive phenomena in something moving. For example, one says he is twenty years old, meaning that his duration as a liv- ing being has been twenty years of time, or twenty revolu- tions of the earth round the sun. ' ' Let us suppose, that from some given instant, for example from to-day, the course of the stars and of our earth becomes twice as rapid as before, and that the year passes by in six months, each season in six weeks and each day in twelve hours ; that the period of the life of man is in like manner reduced to one half of its present duration, so that, speaking in general terms, tlie longest human life, instead of eighty years, lasts for forty, each of which contains as many of the new days of twelve hours as the former years did, when the days were twenty-four hours long ; the drawing of our breath and the stroke of the pulse would proceed with double their usual rapidity, and our new period of life would appear to us of the normal length. The hands of the clock would no longer make the circuit in one hour and in twelve, but the long hand in thirty minutes, the short one in 212 PSYCHOLOGY. six hours. The development of plants and animals would take place with double their usual speed ; and the wind and the lightning would consume, in their rapid course, but one half of their present time. '• With these suppositions, I ask, in what way should we be af- fected by the change ? The answer to this question is. We should be cognizant of no change. We should even consider one who sup-i posed or who attempted to point out that such a change had taken place was mad, or we should look upon him as an enthusiast. We should have no possible ground to consider that any other condition had existed. Now, as we can determine the lapse of any period of time only by comparison, or by measuring it with some other period, and as every division of time which we use in our comparison or in our measurements has been lessened by one half its duration, the original proportion would still be unchanged. Our forty years would pass as the eighty did ; we should perform every thing twice as quickly as before ; but as our life, our breath, and our movements are proportionally hastened, it would be impossible to measure the increased speed, or even to remark it. As far as we could tell, every thing had remained precisely as it was before, not comparatively, but absolutely, provided we had no standard, external to the accel- erated course of events in the world, by which we could perceive the changes or measure them. A similar result would follow, if we imagined the course of time reduced to the fourth, instead of to the half, so that the year would consist of three months. . . . For the same reasons, if the period and processes of life and the course of events in the world around us, were accelerated a thousand or a million times, we should obtain a similar result ! " ^ In this section, on " Time," we have considered :— 1, Relations of Successive Phenomena, 2, Time, Duration and Eternity DistifiguisJied, 3, Time a Relation^ not a Substance or an Attribute, 4, The Objectivity of Time, 5, Real and Ideal Time, 6, The Relation of Space and Time to each other. References : (1) Kant's Critique of Pure Reason (Max Miiller's Translation), p. 30. (2) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, Part II., Chapter III. (3) The Stars and the Earth (anonymous, edited by Thomas Hill), pp. 67, 70. CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 213 SECTION Y. THE DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT. 1. Summary of Results. In the preceding pages, we have examined the four kinds of knowledge which we possess and the powers and jjrocesses by which they are obtained. We must not for- get, in the multiplicity of details, the essential unity of the soul. Intellect is simply one of the three generic modes of psychical activity ; vSensibility and Will, which we have still to consider, being the other two. While Intellect is employed in a variety of modes, each one of which we call, for convenience, a ''power'' or a ''process '' of Intel- iect, it must not be supposed that Intellect is a bundle of separate entities, like the organs of the body ; it is rather one faculty acting in many ways. Never losing sight of these truths, we may, for the purpose of a summary, classify the results and processes of Intellect as follows . ' I. Present ative j 1. Self -consciousness. Knowledge, by ( 2. Sense-perception. ' 1. Association. II. Representative 1 2. Phantasy. Knowledge, by 1 3. Memory. Intellect ^ 4. Imagination. obtains: III. Elaborative T 1- Conception. Knowledge, by ^ 2- J^^g™^^*- ^ ^ ^3. Reasoning. lY. Constitutive ■ Knowledge, by Rational Intuition of 1. hkjing. 2. Cause. 3. Space. 4. Time. 214 PSYCEOLOGY. 2, The Stages of Knowing. It IS evident that clie order which we have followed in onr examination is also the order in which the different processes of knowing become possible. Sense-presenta- tion, association of ideas, reprodnction of ideas, recogni- tion of ideas, recombination of ideas, formation of abstract ideas, judgment and reasoning are possible only as each preceding stage furnishes the materials for each successive process in the development of intellectual activity. It may be said that Self -consciousness is not necessary to these processes. AVhether Self-consciousness is an excep- tion or not, depends entirely upon what is involved in it. If it is interpreted to mean (1) an abstract idea of self , the product of Conception, it is certainly not necessary and must be considered as a late product of thought. If, however, we mean by it (2) a concrete co7isciousness of having sensations and 2^erce2)tiojis and hnoiving these as 0U7- own, it seems to be an indispensable condition of all continuous mental experience. It is in this latter sense that the term ^^ Self -consciousness'^ has been employed. The use of the pronoun "I" to indicate the conscious self, is a comparatively late acquisition in the psychical experience of a child. The poet Tennyson has beautifully expressed the truth upon this point : *' The baby, new to earth and sky. What time his tender palm is pressed Against the circle of the breast, Has never thought that this is L **But as he grows, he gathers much. And learns the use of I ' and ' me,* And finds I am not what I see, And other than the things I touch ; CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 215 " So rounds he to a separate mind, From whence clear memory may begin, As thro' the frame that binds him in, His isolation grows defined." Long before the pronoun is employed, the child uses his own proper name, caught from the lips of others, to designate himself. But even long before this, he is conscious of himself as the subject of pain and pleasure, sights and sounds. However difficult it may- be to trace and to date the dawn of Self-consciousness, it is certain that at the beginning of rational life lies the distinction of subject and object. The child who says "I," or who even lisps his own name, has accomplished a feat which no lower animal can perform at the climax of its development. He has opened his eyes upon the rational order that is never apprehended by the brute, however acute his senses and however astonishing his instincts. 3. The Development of Intellect. The progressive unfolding of the knowing power is an evident development. Its ralpidity varies in different per- sons and in different races, and in some it is liable to final arrest at stages which others pass. The majority of men never develop the highest power of analysis and reflec- tion. Are we to hold, in the light of these facts of devel- opment, that Intellect is gradually evolved from something that is not Intellect, or must Ave consider its growth as the progressive manifestation of a peculiar power already latent in the soul ? The Sensational School of psychologists would derive all the higher powers of Intellect from sensa= tion. 1 For them, mind is simply a ^^ series of sensations," growing in complexity with the increase of experience. Our whole analysis of Intellect has shown the inadequacy of this theory. Intellect always accompanies sensation and is necessary to the interpretation of it. No conceiv- able transformation of mere sensation, or association of 216 PSYCHOLOOY. sensations, can explain even the simplest processes of knowledge. We must assume, at the very beginning, a knowing power, or Intellect, capable of distinguishing and interpreting sensations, or emergence into rational life is impossible. The " association of ideas " is mainly relied upon by such writ- ers as Mlll^ and Bain,^ to explain the evolution of Intellect from sensation. There can be no "idea," however, without a knowing subject already possessing Intellect. Isolated sensations do not con° stitute " ideas." Ideas are forms of knowledge in a conscious mind. "Association" explains nothing. As we have seen, it requires to be explained, and when explained is finally resolved into a habit of the soul. Even sensations exist only for a being that hnoivs them. If it be said that vibrations in the brain become associated, the whole ground is shifted. Such molecular movements are not Intellect and no combination of them alone would constitute knowledge. Every attempt to derive Intellect from something else, either psychical or physical, melts away upon close examination. We can simply assert that the conscious subject possesses Intellect, a power of knowing which, like every other power, develops with exercise. 4. The Parallel Development of Intellect and Brain. In connection with the fact that Intellect develops, we have the kindred fact that Intellect and brain develop together. As the brain of a child grows. Intellect in- creases ; when the brain is injured or diseased, the func- tions of Intellect are impeded ; when health is restored to the brain, the vigor of Intellect is regained. These, in a general way, are unquestioned facts of observation. But the parallelism is not absolute. The development of In- tellect does not depend entirely upon the growth of the physical organ, the brain, which so largely conditions its activity. It has never been shown that the physical quali- ties and health of the brain directly produce intellectual CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 217 power. There is no discovered correlation between the vigor of Intellect and any j^eculiarity in the structure, size, weight, or any other definable quality of the brain. Nothing improves Intellect but the exercise of Intellect. The possessor of a perfectly symmetrical and fully devel- oped brain may remain ignorant and stupid, if he does not develop his Intellect by voluntary exercise. Some of the world's most vigorous minds, on the other hand, have been housed in unsymmetrical and diminutive brains, con- stantly filled with physical pain indicative of disease. The parallelism, then, is not closer than that between fine workmanship and suj^erior tools, — which certainly doe? not prove that the tools do the work. Tiedemann, the physiologist, and Hausmann, the mineralogist^ are examples of very able men with small brains, theirs weighing, respectively, 44 and 43 ounces. In savages of the quarternary age, who fought the mammoth and the cave-bear with rude stone wea- pons, the size of the brain-case was above that of the average modern man.* Such considerations have led the French anthropologist, Paul Broca, the most erudite of craniologists, to conclude that "no well- instructed man would think of ever estimating the intelligence by measuring the encephalon." ^ The best established correlation be- tween the brain and other elements in human life, is between its size and complexity and the complexity of the muscular system.^ The heaviest human brain yet on record, according to Bastian, was that of a Sussex bricklayer who could neither read nor write. His brain weighed 67 ounces. This is two and a half ounces heavier than Cuvier's, which weighed 64.5 ; and fourteen and a half ounces heavier than that of Daniel Webster, which was considered excep- tionally large. Bastian concludes that it "seems perfectly plain from the facts recorded that there is no necessary or invariable rela- tion between the degree of intelligence of human beings and the mere size or weight of their brains." ' Those who desire to find in brain- growth some explanation of intellectual development, usually affirm that this development depends on "quality." It has not, however, 218 PSYCHOLOGY, yet been demonstrated by anatomical or physiological science pre' cisely what this vague word " quality " is meant to signify. It haa not been shown that Intellect is associated in any absolute or decisive manner with any special configuration, disposition of internal con- stituents, or proportion of chemical elements in the brain. This is conceded by all reputable anatomists and physiologists. It is evi- dent, therefore, that all generalizations on this topic and all confi' dent emphasis on the word "quality," without specific definition, are either dogmatism or speculation, not science. 5. The Inlieritance of Intellect. Extended observation has shown that intellectual power is capable of transmission by inheritance.^ Of this fact there can be no longer any donbt. There are^ it is true, important exceptions, and much also must be ascribed to favorable conditions of growth in childhood and youth, such as domestic and educational influences. Mere asso- ciation with intellectual companions is an incalculable advantage, and this the children of intellectual parents usually have. But, after all reductions are made, the fact still remains that a high degree of intellectual power is directly inherited. Spencer and others have employed this fact in explaining the evolution of mind from lower to higher forms. This method of treatment simply pushes back the problem but does not solve it. It does not ex' plain the origin of Intellect, though it may account, in some measure, for its progress. What cannot happen in the history of an individual, supposing an indefinite life- time, cannot happen in the history of the race. Ten thousand years of time would not assist us in deriving Intellect from mere sensation. The case is rendered more difficult in the life of the race, for it cannot be claimed that each generation inherits all the attainments of all its CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 219 ancestors. As we have seen (page 44), each cliild has to learn everything from the beginning. He may, indeed, inherit a superior power of learning, but indefinite time does not assist in explaining the origin of this power. Locke maintained that, at birth, eA^ery mind is like a sheet of blank paper, or a tabula rasa, — i. e., a waxen tablet from which all previous marks have been erased. This doctrine was advanced in opposition to that of "innate ideas," held and advocated by Des- cartes. Leibnitz tried to answer Locke and to prove that certain powers are inherent in the mind itself. While Locke and his fol- lowers held that "There is nothing in the Intellect that has not pre- viously been in the senses," Leibnitz and his disciples maintained that, " There is nothing in the Litellect which has not previously been in the senses, except Intellect itself. ^^ The notion that children are born with innate ideas, as distinguished from certain necessary principles in the constitution of the mind, has been quite generally abandoned. A French follower of Locke, Etienne Bonnot de Con- dillac (1715-1780), maintained that "ideas " are simply " transformed sensations," and that each individual, as Locke held, develops his whole intellectual nature from his sensational experience. This doctrine has widely prevailed in English thought on the subject also, but the rise of the modern theory of Evolution has revived the old doctrine of "innate ideas;" not in the ancient form, however, but in the form of "inherited tendencies." Spencer says: "If, at birth, there exists nothing but a passive receptivity of impres- sions, why is not a horse as educable as a man ? Should it be said that language makes the difference, then why do not the cat and the dog, reared in the same household, arrive at equal degrees and kinds of intelligence ? " He then goes on to point out the force of Leib- nitz's criticisms on Locke. He proceeds to maintain that what we call "Reason" is organized in the brain by a gradual process of adjustment to external relations, which "adjustment" is trans- mitted and augmented through successive generations. He con- cludes that, universal perceptions " being the constant and infinitely repeated elements of thought, they must become the automatic ele- ments of thought— the elements of thought which it is impossible to get rid of— the ' forms of intuition.' " » The difficulty in the way ot 220 PSYCnOLOOY, this ingenious doctrine is, that Intellect is the pre-condition of aN rational experience. In order that our ancestors should be able to have rational experience whose results they could transmit, they must first have possessed Reason. The inferior animals transmit no such " intuitions," because they do not possess them. In this section, on " The Development of Intellect," we have considered : — 1. Suniiiiary of Hestilts, 2. The Stages of Knowing. 3. The development of Intellect, 4. The Parallel Development of Intellect and Srain. 5. Tlie Inheritance of Intellect, References : (1) See the exhaustive review of this attempt, witK full and explicit references, in Calderwood's Handbook of Moral Philosophy, pp. 98, 122. (2) See the Notes of J. S. Mill in James Mill's Analysis of the Human Mind, Chapter III. (3) See Bain's Notes to the last-named work also and his whole treatment of Intel- Ject in The Senses and the Intellect. (4) Quatrefages' Tlie Human Species, p. 312. (5) Id., p. 410. (6) Calderwood's Relations of Mind and Brain, p. 206. (7) Bastian's The Brain as an Organ of Mind, pp. 368, 369. (8) See Galton's Hereditary Genius and Ribot's Heredity. (9) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, I., Part IVc, Chapter VU. PART ll.-SENSIBILITY. 1. Definition of Sensibility. Sensibility is the faculty of feeling, or of experiencing pleasure and pain. The word is derived from the Latin sensibilitas, which conveys the idea of ability to feel. It is to be distinguished from Intellect, the faculty of know- ing, and Will, the faculty of directing. Numerous efforts have been made to mark the distinction be- tween knowledge and feeling. Among the most ingenious of these is the following discrimination offered by Dewey; " Feeling is the subjective side of consciousness, knowledge its objective side. Will is the relation between the subjective and the objective. Every con* Crete consciousness is this connection between the individual as sub jective and the universe as objective. Suppose the consciousness to be that arising from a cut of a finger. The pain is purely sub- jective ; it belongs to the self pained, and can be shared by no other. The cut is an objective fact; something which maybe present to the senses of all and apprehended by their intelligences. It is one object amid the world of objects. Or, let the consciousness be that of the death of a friend. This has one side which connects it uniquely with the individual; it has a certain value for him as a person, with- out any reference to its bearings as an event which has happened objectively. It is subjective feeling. But it is also an event which has happened in the sphere of objects; something present in the same way to all. It is objective ; material of information. Will always serves to connect the subjective and objective sides, just as it connects the individual and the universal."' These statements may assist us in forming a right judgment concerning the nature of feeling, but they tend to confuse our ideas concerning the nature of knowledge. Knowledge may be of the objective, but it is not itself 222 PSYCHOLOGY. objective. It is always relative to the individual mind which knows. If it is possible to all who are endowed with the necessary powers, so also is feeling. If we regard the experience of both knowledge and feeling, both are subjective. If we regard the causes of both knowledge and feeling, these are equally objective. "Conscious- ness" cannot be regarded as having two "sides," a " subjective " and an "objective" side. The distinction does not seem to hold good and to mark off the peculiar quality of feeling from the pe- culiar quality of knowledge. These qualities are inexplicable in any terms other than themselves. Whoever can know and feel, knows that knowledge and feeling are different, as he knows that red and blue are different, but the expressions "objective " and " subjective " do not mark this difference. 2. Diificulties in Treating- the Phenomena of Sensibility. As the phenomena of Intellect are forms of knoAvledge, 60 the phenomena of Sensibility are forms of feeling. Feeling is not, like knowledge, a psychical activity, but an accoinpaniment of activity. Knowledge can be repro- duced by the soul ; feeling cannot be reproduced directly, but only as an accompaniment. Hence, there are certain special difficulties in the treatment of feeling. (1) The phenomena of Sensibility exist only under cer- tain conditions of production. — States of feeling cannot be produced at will. Having been produced, they cannot be recalled in their completeness. We have already seen why pains cannot be reproduced (page 98). Representative ideas of feelings are not, properly speaking, feelings. Feelings exist, therefore, only when their special causes are acting. This renders it difficult to compare and study them. (•2) They are exceedingly evanescent. — As the causes of feeling are constantly changing, the feelings change. No SENSIBILITY. 323 state of feeling can persist uninterruptedly for a long time. There is perpetual alternation of different feel- ings. Hence^ feeling lias often been compared to a *^^stream.^^ We speak of ^^ trains of ideas/' but of ^'^ currents of feeling.'" The reason is obvious. Ideas persist and have distinct and ^^ermanent form in the mind for a considerable time. Feelings have a fluidity that involves constant change. (3) The states readily blend together and form com- pounds. — We probably never have exactly the same com- bination of feelings in any two hours of life. The exter- nal or the internal factor is slightly modified. It is difficult to analyze any given state into its constituents^ because we are ever exposed to the danger of treating a compound state as if it were simple. For this reason the names which we apply to the different forms of feeling do not have exactly the same meaning to different persons. Such words as '^appetite/' ^^joy/' ''sorrow'' and ''love" signify to each person just what his experience has af forded him^ and this is exceedingly variable. For these reasons^, the feelings have not yet received, and probably never will receive, the same definite and sat- isfactory scientific treatment as the forms of knowledge. G. E. Lessing (1729-1781), the illustrious German critic, has well stated the difficulties that lie in the way of a scientific treatment of the feelings. He says : " Nothing is more deceitful than general laws for our feelings. Their tissue is so fine and complicated that the most cautious speculation can scarcely seize upon any single thread and f olkiw it througli all its entanglements ; and if we could do this, what should we gain? There is in nature scarcely any one unmixed feeling; with every individual one a thousand others spring Mp at the same time, the least of which alters entirely the ground of the feeling, so that exceptions grow upon exceptions, which end iu 224 PSYCHOLOGY. confining the presumed general i^riiiciple to the experience of a fe\< particular instances." ^ 3. A Science of Sensibility Possible. If science dealt principally with differences, we could never hoj^e for a science of Sensibility, but it deals more largely with resemblances than with differences. There is enough in the phenomena of Sensibility that is common to all human souls, to j)ermit of the scientific discussion of the subject. We can describe the modes of feeling, class them into certain general groups, explain the condi- tions under which they are experienced, and discover the principal laws of their aj)pearance and modification. The difficulties of the subject have, however, thus far pre- vented the satisfactory accomplishment of these results, and at the present time the feelings present the least developed department of Psychology. Much attention has recently been devoted to this long-neglected province of the soul. Much speculation has originated in Gern\any on the subject of "Esthetics," mainly directed toward the creation of a philosophical theory of the fine arts; but even in Germany, where this branch of study has received most attention, no very sat- isfactory scientific investigation of the feelings in the broader sense has yet been accomplished. The Ethical Sentiments have received a certain amount of study, but even here, although this field is so closely connected with the conduct of life, the scientific results have been largely colored by philosophical assumptions of various kinds and much impeded by a want of co-ordination with other forms of feeling. In what is truly valuable our own literature compares fa- vorably with that of other countries, and in recent additions displays a remarkable activity in the cultivation of this field. Sir Charles Bell (1774-1842), an English surgeon and anatomist, led the way in the scientific study of the Emotions in his " Anatomy and Philoso- phy of Expression." Charles Darwin (1809-1882), the distinguished SENSIBILITY. 225 naturalist, continued in the same line in his " Expression of tlie Emotions in Man and Animals." Herbert Spencer has given much attention to the feelings. Alexander Bain has treated the subject extensively and originally in liis book on " The Emotions and the Will." Charles Grant Allen (1848- ), a Canadian naturalist and writer resident in England, has produced a work on " Pliysiological iEstheti-cs." James McCosh has written a volume on "The Emo- tions." Nearly all the recent text-books on Psychology include some attempt to discuss the subject of Sensibility, which was wholly neglected in most of the earlier treatises intended for use in schools. A great number of articles presenting observations and hypotheses upon the subject may be found scattered through the leading peri- odicals. All tliese indications point to a growing interest in this neglected department and give ground for hoping that it will not long remain the chaos which it has been. 4. Characteristics of Sensibility. States of Sensibility^ or feelings, are either painful or pleasurable. It is impossible to define pain and pleasnre except by negation and opposition. Tliey are nltimate facts of experience which can be resolved into nothing simpler, and are known to every human being as real dis- tinctions. Every one knows when he suffers pain or en- joys pleasnre, but no one can say what pain and pleasure are. We can, however, ascertain under what conditions they arise in consciousness, and so discover what is essen= tial to their production. Bain holds that, besides painful and pleasurable qualities, a feel- ing may have the quality of indifference. lie says : "A state of feeling may have considerable intensity and yet be neutral. Sur- prise is a familiar instance. Some surprises give us delight, others cause suffering, but many do neither ; yet in all cases we are emo- tionally moved." 3 It is difficult to detect this alleged "indiffer- ence" in feeling. There may be a condition of "surprise," that is, a perception of something unexpected, without either pleasure ol 226 PSYCHOLOGY. pain and also without feeling of anj^ kind. If there is feeling, in any definite and appreciable sense, it must be either agreeable, that is pleasurable, or disagreeable, that is painful, in some degree, or it would not be appreciated as "feeling." There is an intellectual as well as an emotional "surprise," and it seems as if this distinction had been overlooked. Sully and many others reject Bain's idea of an "indifferent" feeling. He says: "By feeling is meant any state of consciousness which is pleasurable or painful. The feelings are pleasures and pains of all sorts, agreeable and disagreeable states of mind. Every feeling is either pleasurable or painful, agreeable or disagreeable, in some degree." In commenting on Bain's doctrine, he says: " It may be questioned whether any feeling as such can be indifferent."^ A sense-impression, however, maybe " indift'erent, " that is, without the quality of feeling, as when we are conscious of touching, without experiencing either pleasure or pain. 5. The Quality and Quantity of Feelings. The broadest qualitative distinction of feelings is into pleasures and pains. Both pleasures and pains are of dif- ferent qualities, varying according to the organ or faculty by which they are apprehended and the causes from which they proceed. Regarded as to quantity, feelings have massiveness, or amount, and intensity, or degree. Thus, a tooth-ache may be very intense, without being very mas- sive, while a pain from indigestion may be massive with- out being very intense. Massiveness has relation to the area of feeling, intensity to the acuteness of it. 6. Division of the Subject. Various classifications of the modes of Sensibility have been offered, many of them wholly arbitrary and at vari- ance with the use of language. ^ We shall secure a divi- sion at the same time psychologically exact, adapted to an orderly discussion, and in harmony with the accepted SENSIBILITY. 227 use of words^ if we recognize two main classes of feelings : (1) physical feelings, having a definite origin in the bodily organism, and capable of reference to the locality where they originate, which we shall call Sensations ; and (2) psychical feelings, having their origin in the soul itself on the presentation of certain ideas, and not capable of being located in any part of the organism, which we shall call Sentiments. We shall now proceed to con- sider separately : (1) Sensations ; and (2) Senthnents. References : (1) Dewey's Psychology, p. 23. (2) Lessing's Lao- won (Phillimore's Translation), p. 42. (3) Bain's The Emotioiis and the Will, pp. 14, 15. (4) Sully's Psychology, p. 449. See also Bain's defense of his position in 3Iind, October, 1887, pp. 576, 579. (5) For an account of the different modes of classifying the feelings, see Bain's The Emotions and the Will, Appendix B. Also Mind, April, 18&4, pp. 325, 348; and October, 1884, pp. 509, 530. CHAPTEH L SENSATIONS. CLASSIFICATION OF SENSATIONS. Sensations are the feelings wliicli accompany physical activity. There are two main classes of sensations, some being mere excitations, without involving any tendency to do anything ; others being attended with appetency, or a tendency to seek some object when excited. The natural division is, then, into (1) sensations of Simple Sentience (from the Latin seiitlre, to feel), or sensations without any appetency ; and (2) sensations of Appetite (from the Latin ad, to, and pet ere, to seek), or sensations attended with appetency. These two classes will be discussed in the following sections. SEOTION I. SIMPLE SENTIENCE. 1. Kinds of Simple Sentience. In our discussion of Sense-j^erception, we classiAefl the> senses as Muscular, Organic and Special (pages 32, 33). Our purpose in that examination was to discover the man- ner in which sensations furnish materials for knowledge, SENSATIONS, 229 not to compare tliem as modes of feeling atf ording pleasure and pain. Our present purpose is to consider them as feelings^ not as materials of knowledge. The same classi- fication will, however, serve in both cases. (1) Muscular sentience is the feeling that arises from the states of the muscles. It is sometimes pleasurable and sometimes painful. The normal exercise of the muscles produces an agreeable feeling, while disease and over-use produce pain. During considerable periods of time, the muscles afford no feelings whatever, and we are practically unconscious of their existence. After rest and nourishment, the muscles become surcharged with energy and demand activity. If they do not obtain this, a sense of uneasiness follows. If they do obtain it and it is too much pro- longed, a different feeling arises, indicating need of repose. These two tendencies, to seek activity and to seek repose, according to the state of the muscles, are really appetites, not forms of simple sen- tience. We shall consider them later on. The simple sensations are those forms of feeling which arise when the muscles are in activ- ity. They are pleasurable or painful, according to the degree of ex- ercise. So long as the vitality is not overdrawn, pleasure accom- panies activity, but as soon as the energy is depleted to a certain point, — possibly at the point where the repair does not equal the waste, — the sensations begin to be painful, and continue to become more and more painful until rest is obtained. Any one may try this for himself by a simple movement of the arm, which, though pleas- urable at first, if continued, becomes painful and finally unendur- able. (2) Organic sentience arises from the condition of the vital organs, such as the heart, the stomach, the lungs, etc. In diseased conditions they often force themselves upon the attention and completely occupy it. A person with a healthy stomach is hardly aware by his feelings that he has one, while the dyspeptic hardly realizes that 230 PSYCHOLOGY. he lias any other organ. Pleasure in any high degree is not afforded by these organs, but pain is the sign that they are in an abnormal condition. Wlicther or not the organic sensations were provided for by de- sign in the constitution of our bodily organism, they certainly serve an important purpose. They warn us of disease. The health and integrity of these organs are necessary to the proper performance of all the bodily functions and ultimately to the continuance of life. The fact that pain, not pleasure, is the usual mode of their sentient manifestation in consciousness, is evidence of a preserving purpose in the provisions made for their existence. Thus regarded, pain ib a token of benevolence in the plan of a human organism, for it ap- pears simply as a signal of warning, and never attends the normal condition and exercise of the body. As we shall see in our study of the appetites, pleasure is connected with those organic actions which are necessary to the preservation of the life of the individual and of the species. The mechanical explanation of this adjustment of pain and pleasure to destructive and preservative actions breaks down completely, and nothing short of a teleological explanation satisfies our intelligence. (3) Special sentience is that which arises from the spe- cial sense-organs, and is the concomitant of external per- ception. As we have seen (page 26), the sensation is in an inverse ratio to the perception. There is, however, a distinct sensuous pleasure in the perceptive use of the senses, apart from the intellectual gratification. Certain sounds, colors, forms, and odors are pleasing in a high de- gree, without any reference to the knowledge obtained from them. A great part of our enjoyment of nature is of this simple sensuous kind. The bird-songs, the autum- nal leaves, the cloud-castles, and the scents of forest and meadow, even when not regarded as elements of that ideal beauty which the Intellect only can apprehend, afford us V thrilling delight. On the other hand, the senses are SENSATION'S, 231 pained by sounds, sights, and odors of an opposite kind, not so agreeable to ^jarticularize, but equally well known. The advocates of "Physiological Esthetics" attempt to explain our entire experience of beauty and sublimity in terms of organic action. As we proceed with our study of Sensibility, we shall see many reasons for rejecting these pretentious endeavors, but at this point it is desirable to call attention to the inadequacy of any merely mechanical or organic action to explain even the simplest of our sensations. We have already seen that there is a great interval be- tween a sense-impression and any form of sense-knowledge (page 40). We have also seen that the simplest perception requires a special psychical reaction (page 61). In like manner, the transition from a sense-impression to a simple sensation regarded as a form of feeling, is a passage from a mode of motion to a mode of consciousness, and requires the reaction of Sensibility. Sensations, whether pleasurable or painful, are not results generated out of mere motion, but require the presence of a recipient endowed with Sensibility. The explana- tion of a sensation, then, does not lie in any mode of organic action, but in the power of Sensibility possessed by the being who experi- ences the sensation. The soul, a being different from '* matter in motion," is as necessary to the enjoyment of a rose as to the con- struction of a cathedral. The enjoyment is the passive reception of a passing odor and the construction is an active combination of materials in complicated and original forms, but "matter in mo- tion " is wholly incapable of both. 2. Conditions of Simple Sentience. There are certain conditions without which sentience does not take place. These are both internal and external to the nervous system. (1) The internal conditions are the health and integrity of the sensor nerves. If a nerve be severed, no sentience can be produced by the excitation of the area of the body thus cut off from communication with the brain. There are certain parts of the body that do not give rise to senti- 232 PSYCHOLOGY. eiice, because they are not supplied with sensor nerves. Thus, the hair and nails are not furnished with nerves, and oO they may be cut off without causing j^ain. Some parts of the brain itself, not being supplied with nerves of sense, may be cut out without pain. (2) The external conditions are the a2323lication of agents adapted to excite the sensor nerves through their terminal organs and so to send an im2:)ression to the brain, where tlie sentient states are realized in consciousness ; and also the mechanical, chemical, and vital changes produced in the tissues of the body itself by external causes. 3. Conditions of Pleasurable Sentience. All use of the j)hysical organism involves a certain de- struction of tissue and thereby necessitates repair to make good the waste. The following formula of pleasurable sentience is given by Grant Allen : '' Pleasure is the con- comitant of the healthy action of any or all of the organs or members supplied with afferent cerebro-spinal nerves, to an extent not exceeding the ordinary powers of repara* tion possessed by the system." This statement may be accepted as the best formula that can now be given of the conditio7is under which pleasure arises from physical sensation. It must not, however, be accej^ted as a defini- tion of pleasure. Bain has formulated the connection of feelings with physical states in the following law: "States of pleasure are concomitant with an increase, and states of pain with an abatement, of some, or all, of the vital functions." ^ In commenting on this statement, Allen says: "If pleasures were the psychical concomitants of an increase of some of the vital functions, then our two greatest, if not s:ei^sations. 233 only, pleasures ought to be digestion and repose after exertion-, whereas these are really only minor and very indefinite pleasures."* He then continues, after stating the formula cited above, "pleasure on the whole is chiefly referable to a healthy state of the organism generally, one in which every part is enabled to perform its proper functions unimpeded, and no undue call is made upon any single organ or member. . . . And if, in such a condition of body, we give free play to all the activities of the system, nervous and muscular, — as in taking a morning walk on a sunny day in spring, after a good night's rest and a hearty breakfast, — we receive a massive impression of pleasure which corresponds partially [in amount?] to the massive discomfort of fatigue, inanition or anasmia. . . . While Professor Bain refers pleasure to an increase in the efficiency of the organism, it may better be regarded as the concomitant of a normal ainount of activity in any portion or the whole of the organism. Or, to employ once more the metaphor of the steam-engine, we may say that pleasure results, not from the act of coaling, watering or oiling, but from the harmonious working of all the parts. And, as all activity implies a waste of tissue (since it is dynamically equivalent to the passage of potential into kinetic energy), pleasure is to a certain ex- tent concomitant with a decrease of vital function. The limit at which such waste of tissue ceases to be pleasurable and begins to be painful is, I believe, the point where the waste exceeds the ordinary powers of repair." ^ 4. Conditions of Painful Sentience. Painri are of two classes, (1) acute and (2) massive. An acute pain is sharp and either sudden or intermittent. A massive pain is dull and continuous. The pulling of a tooth produces acute pain. A tooth-ache also is some- times an acute pain, frequently felt in recurrent throbs. A head-ache from indigestion is usually a massive pain, continuing for some time. Acute pains, as a class, accompany the action of destructive agencies, as cuts, burns and bruises. Massive pains usually accompany ex- cessive or obstructed functional action, as when one strains ^34 PSYCHOLOOT. tlie muscles by over- use or confines the body for some time to one position. *' If we take a rapid survey of the principal varieties of physical pain, the first point which strilves us is that the greater part of them, and especially the most intense, are the concomitants of a violent dismemberment in some one of the tissues. Of all pains with which we are acquainted, the strongest are those which accompany the severance of an actual sensible portion of the body, as in the ampu- tation of a limb, the excision of an ulcer, or the removal of a scalp. The disruption from the body of a much smaller member is also ex- tremely painful, as, for example, the loss of a nail or the drawing of a tooth. To pinch off a small piece of skin (below the epidermis) or to pull out a hair occasions a considerable smart. In short, to tear or cut away from the body any one of its constituent tissues is one 3iost conspicuous cause of pain. Again, merely to sever the tissues without actual dismemberment is also painful. Take as instances wounds, cuts, pricks and scratches. To pare or break the nails be- low the quick, to pull open a sore, to have the face or lips chapped, are other similar cases. Disruption of tissue is, therefore, a second and closely-allied cause of pain. Disintegration of any part of the body owing to causes not so directly mechanical is accompanied by the same subjective states : as in burning off a finger, having tlie %Qi frozen so that the joints drop off, destroying the skin and muscles with a corrosive acid, and so forth. Like mental manifesta- tions occur when the tissues are bruised, crushed or broken. Of this we have every-day experience in blows, falls, kicks and rubs. Here we can easily see that there is still disintegration, though of smaller tissues. This is proved by the concentration of blood in the area of disruption which causes the flesh to appear 'black and blue,' and shows that the delicate epithelium of the capillaries has been broken and an extravasation has taken place ; by the weal, raised after a smart tap from a whip ; and by blisters which follow friction and testify to the separation of the skin from the subjacent tissues by allowing an effusion to collect in the interstice. All these cases arc produced by the interference of external bodies with the organism. ... In other cases, the evidence only shows a tendency to disrup- tion rather than its actual presence. Whenever a mass of connective tissue is exposed to a violent strain, the nerves which it contains are SENSATIONS. 235 pinched or twisted and arouse an intensely painful sensation." •* In still other cases, we can discover a decomposition of tissue, as in the case of excessive muscular exertion, or an insufficient nutrition, as in the case of nervous debility, as the accompaniments of pain. Heriv also there is molecular disruption in the tissues of the body. 5, The RaDge of Sensation. If we follow the rise and progress of any particular sensation, we shall discover (1) that its external cause must reach a certain degree of intensity before the ^'thresh- old of consciousness " is readied, that is, before it can produce a sensation (page GO). If the sensation continues to increase in intensity, we find (2) that, at a certain point, there is a transition in its quality, a painful sensa- tion becoming pleasurable, as when the discomfort caused by a dim and trying light gives way to pleasure when the light becomes stronger ; or a pleasurable sensation becom- ing painful, as when a light becomes so strong as to dazzle and hurt the eye. This transition is very marked in sensations of temperature. Finally, if a sensation, pleas- urable at first, simply continues, without change of in- tensity, we find (3) that, after some time, its duration alone renders it disagreeable. In the sphere of sensations of sound, for example, a low, almost indistinguishable soujid is very disagreeable. When it becomes a little louder, so as not to strain the attention, it loses its disagreeable quality. But when it becomes very loud it pains the ear. A very slight stimulus divides the consciousness and the efforts of attention are constantly defeated. The soul fails to find an object for its in- terpretation. A very great stimulation overtaxes the powers and occasions pain. Pleasure results only from the moderate stimula- tion of the sense-organ, affording satisfaction to the interpreting power and still not producing a destructive disturbance in the organ. This holds of all the senses. PSTCHOLOOT. 6. The Laws of Pleasurable Sensation. There are two principles, or laws, of pleasurable sensa- tion which are of considerable practical importance. They are : (1) The Law of Variety. — When any sense-organ ia over-taxed, either by too intense or too prolonged activity, the sensations become disagreeable. Hence, variety is necessary to a pleasing effect. This law of variety fur- nishes an important principle of art, in so far as art appeals to the senses. Monotony of tone, form, and color is never pleasing. It must be broken up by variety. (2) The Law of Harmony. — The simultaneous demand for attention in many, especially in opposite, directions, is disagreeable, because every sensation is interrupted before it is fully realized. Hence, a certain harmony is necessary for a pleasing effect. Discordant tones, incongruous forms, and inharmonious colors are even more disagree- able than monotony. Unity is, therefore, an important principle of art. Some have held that the whole secret of beauty lies in variety in unity. Of merely sensuous beauty this is certainly true, but we shall soon see that ideal beauty involves much more. Variety relieves our powers from too intense and prolonged exertion, while harmony secures unity in their action. The distinction between sensuous and ideal beauty is a real and an important one. It will, perhaps, be more evident when we have noted more precisely the difference between sensations and senti- ments, but we may be able to promote the apprehension of that difference by introducing some statements here. Certain sounds, forms, and colors are pleasing in themselves, wholly apart from theii combinations and the meaning which those combinations reveal. ' SENSATIONS. 23? Take, for illustration, two human voices, one pure and soft, the other aspirate and metallic. The same musical note sounded by these two voices will affect us differently. Take, now, the moro pleasing of these two voices. Let it begin at a pleasing note and run up the scale, and it will finally reach a point where it will become disagreeable. Such isolated tones are simply sensuous elements. They have a beauty of their own. The same may be said of forms. There are ugly and there are pleasing forms. The same is true of colors. All these constitute elements of sensuous beauty in the objects which possess them. Their pleasing quality depends upon their adaptation to produce a normal activity in the sense-organs. Certain tones awaken an agreeable stimulation in the auditory organs. Certain lines, particularly curved lines, produce an easy and diversified activity in the visual organs, uniting variety and harmony ; while others require abrupt movements or a continuous activity in one direction. Certain colors are called " harmonious," as blue and yellow, red and green, and are said "to go well to- gether." Such combinations are sometimes spoken of as having a "restful" effect upon the eye. We cannot here enter upon a de- tailed explanation of these relations, but inquiry shows that such combinations of color are in a strict and literal sense ' ' restful, " em- ploying now this now that portion of the optic organ. Tliere is, then, a sensuous beauty, or beauty that appeals to the senses. Milton perceived this element when he described effective poetry as "Simple, sensuous Mid passionate." But this sensuous element is only, as it were, the body of beauty. The idea, the product of the transforming power of Intellect, furnishes the ideal element, the soul of beauty. To this we shall refer in a subsequent section. 7. The Association of Sensations. We have seen how difficult it is to reproduce sensations without the presence of the objects causing them (pages 97, 98). We are able, however, to form and to reproduce ideas of sensations. These are never quite the same as the sensations themselves (page 68). Thus, we cannot produce in consciousness a sensation of a tooth-ache or of 238 PSTCIIOLOQT, the scent of a flower, but we have ideas of those sensa- tions. Such ideas are associated, like all other ideas, and so we always think of some ex^jeriences as being pleasant and of others as painful. Hence, certain trains of ideas produce pleasure and others pain. This pleasure and this pain are ideal, but constitute for us important elements of experience. We seek the pleasant and shun the painful, and thus, at last, through association of feelings, establish preferences for certain objects and ideas, and dislikes for others. Language has the power to suggest trains of associated ideas and, through these, to stir and move the feelings. Much of the influence of the orator and the poet depends upon the subtle associations con- nected with our sensuous experience. Observation shows that the most effective orations and poems, in their influence upon the feel- ings, are those in which words suggesting sensations abound. This is probably the origin of the term " sensational," used to designate a type of writing and speaking that depends largely upon this sensu- ous element in style for its effects. Hence, one of the definitions oi the "sensational " is, " done for effect." While our rational nature resents being thus practiced upon, there is no doubt that the ' ' ef- fect" sought is actually produced and that audiences are "stirred" and "fired" by "words that burn." 8. Relation of Sensations to Education. The relation of sensations to education is twofold : (1) sensations furnish a basis for the government of a child, and (2) sensations must themselves be governed through the child's higher nature. (1) Government of the Child through his Sensations. — All government begins with the assum^jtion that ^min will be avoided and pleasure will be sought. The child will follow the line of least resistance. The meaning of SENSATIONS. 239 punishment is pain ; the meaning of reward is pleasure. At firsts the only sphere of either pleasure or pain for a human being is that of his sensations. Hence, he is primarily governed through these alone. Most legisla- tors hold that this, which is unquestionably true of all at the beginning, never ceases to be true of the majority of men. A great jurist has said, "^^Man is the subject of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure."^ ^ The first gov- ernment, at least, must be corporal. As the soul ex- pands and rises into the sphere of psychical pleasures and pains, the government should rise into it also. If it does not, the subject of the government is degraded. A being is best governed on his highest plane. (2) Government of the Sensations through the Child. — A point is reached in the development of a human being when the process of governing him through his sensations should pass into the government of his sensations through his higher nature. He must be taught obedience, pa- tience and fortitude. He can no longer follow the line of least resistance without peril of degradation. He must obey, although obedience requires pain. He must be pa- tient, although patience involves the mastery of feeling.. He must be firm, although suffering accompanies forti= tude. Government must now be transferred to the realm of Reason and Conscience. How can this transfer be made ? It can be made only by eliciting a consciousness of the superior nature. This can be accomplished by assuming its existence, by appealing to its authority, and by administering rewards and punishments in the terms of the nobler nature. If government is to be rational and moral, its punishments must be rational and mora] also. 240 PSYCHOLOGY. lu this section, on "Simple Seiitience," we have considered : — 1, Kinds of Simple Sentience, 2. Conditions of Shnple Sentience. 3. Conditions of I'leasurahle Sentience, 4, Conditions of Painful Sentience. 5, The Range of Sensation. 6. The Laivs of Pleasurable Sensation. 7. The Association of Sensations. 8, Relation of Sensations to Education, Eeferences : (1) Bain's TJie Senses and the Intellect, p. 283. (2) Grant Allen's Physiological Esthetics, p. 20. (3) Id., pp. 21, 22. (4) Id., pp. 6, 7. (5) This is the assumption on which Jeremy Bentham founds his Princij^les of Morals and Legislation. SECTION II. APPETITE. 1. Appetite Distinguished from Simple Sentience. Appetite is distinguished from Simple Sentience by two characteristics. They are : (1) Appetency, which is a tendency to seek for some object or to joerf orm some act when the appetite is aroused. Thus, the apj)etite of hunger inckides, in addition to the simple sentience of innutrition, the tendency to seek and devour food. Provision is made in our constitution for a certain activity whenever the appetite is aroused. This activity is not an effort of intelligence but an inborn im- Dulse, or instinct. (2) Periodicity, which attends all the appetites, while SENSATIONS. 241 simple sentience is merely occasional. It seems to be governed by a law of the organism itself. Hunger, for example, returns at intervals more or less regular, accord- ing to habit. If the habit of taking food is regular, the period is quite uniform. The difference between appetite and instinct should be noted. It is well drawn by Mark Hopkins (1802-1887): "The appetite craves, instinct directs. The appetite is presentative, the instinct is regulative." ^ It may be added that this direction is a blind, not a consciously intelligent, direction. Appetite makes us conscious of a need, instinct directs us how to supply it. It implies a correlation of means and ends, but it is not a rational correlation resulting from our intelligence. The nature of instinct will be more explicitly dis- cussed in another connection. Appetite must not be identified with feeling as a mere incentive to action. Bain says: "If a spur to action were to constitute ap- petite, all our pains and pleasures would come under this designa- tion. But the appetites commonly considered are a select class of feelings, and are circumscribed by the following property — namely, that tliey are the craviiigs produced by the '^ecurring ivants and necessities of our bodily, or organic, life." ^ 2. Natural Appetites. The following are the most definitely marked natural appetites : (1) Hunger. — The waste of the bodily tissues requires to be constantly repaired by food, which supplies new ma- terials for assimilation. The securing of food is, for the higher organisms, a complicated act requiring the direct- ing power of mind. The conscious craving leads us to provide food which, when before us, we instinctively appropriate to the needs of the body. Instinct teaches us what we need, intelligence enables us to j^i'ocnrc it. As the organs for the reception of food are of limited capacity, 242 PSYCHOLOGY. the supply has to be taken after short intervals, so that the craving for food becomes periodic. "In the case of hunger, as in most of the appetites, there is a double spur to the taking of food; first, the stimulus of uneasiness, and next the impulse arising out of the pleasure of eating. It is well understood that these two things are quite different, and on their difference hangs the whole art of refined cookery. Very plain food would satisfy the craving for nutrition, but there is a superadded pleasure which we have to cater for. The one is the appetite in its strictest signification and as found in the lower animals ; the other we may call a desire, because it supposes the remembrance and anticipation of positive pleasure, like the desire for music or for knowledge."^ The appetite proper belongs to the sphere of sensa- tions ; as desire, it is the concomitant of certain ideas. The inter- relation of appetite, consciousness, and instinct becomes clear the moment we consider their dependence. If there were no conscious craving, the intelligence could not be brought to minister to the preservation of the body. If there were no instinctive tendency to seek food, the intelligence would merely know itself as the subject of a craving without direction toward the needed object. Instinct directs the conscious craving toward its object and intelligence de- vises means of procuring it. (2) Thirst. — This appetite hardly needs to be distin- guished from hunger, for it is simply the craving for liquid food. It is more imperative than the appetite for solid food, and demands more frequent satisfaction. (3) Suffocation. — This is the appetite for air. The lungs are the organs in which the blood receives its supply of oxygen and through which carbonic acid gas is emitted. They demand a constant supply of pure air. If for any cause it is withheld, a jminful feeling is pro- duced and the organs seek their needed su23ply by rapid gasping, whereby they extract from the air a larger pro' portion of oxygen. SENSATIONS. 243 ** Observe a man threatened with suffocation: remark the sudden and wild energy that pervades every feature ; the contractions of the throat, the gasping and the spasmodic twitchings of his face, the heaving of his chest and shoulders, and how he stretches his hand and catches like a drowning man. These are efforts made under the oppressive intolerable sensation at his heart; and the means which nature employs to guard and preserve the animal machine, giving to the vital organ a sensibility that excites to the utmost exertion."-* (4) Weariness. — This is the craving for a new supply of energy consequent upon the exhaustion of the amount previously possessed. It is a tendency to seek repose and sleep. Sometimes, however, sleep is rendered impossible by the degree of exhaustion. The weariness occasions an excitation that prevents sleep. Muscular exhaustion, un- less positively painful, usually induces sleep, but nervous exhaustion may so excite the system as to induce wake- fulness. *' The fact of periodic recurrence is in no case more strikingly ex- emplified than in sleep. After a certain period of waking activity, there supervenes a powerful sensation of repose. If we give way to it at once, the state of sleep creeps over us and we pass through a few moments of agreeable repose into unconsciousness. If we are prevented from yielding to the sleepy orgasm, its character as an appetite is brought out into strong relief. The voluminous uneasi- ness that possesses all the muscles and organs of sense, stimulates a strong resistance to the power that keeps us awake ; the uneasiness and the resistance increasing with the continued refusal of the per- mission to sleep, until the condition becomes intolerable, or until the reaction ensues, which drives off the drowsiness for some time longer. The overpowering influence of drowsiness is well seen in infants." ^ (5) Restlessness. — This is the opposite of weariness. It is the appetite for activity. When the supply of energy- is superabundant, there is a craving for an opportunity to work it off. It is shown in the playfulness of children 244 PSYCHOLOGY. and all young animals. Persons accustomed to any form of exercise or of excitement find themselves wretched when the suj^ply of surplus energy accumulates without the accustomed opportunity for expending it. Action and companionship are then demanded^ and through them relief is afforded. We have no word in the English language to express precisely what is meant by the French word "ennui." It is a state of de- pression from having nothing to do, and the French, characteristic- ally vivacious and active, have found this name for it. It is a com- mon experience whenever there is little to occupy the attention. The silence of the country is disagreeable to those who are accustomed to the noises of the city, unless they find compensation in the charms of nature. Every sense-organ demands its accustomed stimulation. Silence and solitude are enjoyed only by those minds which have an activity of their own independent of sense-impressions. The thought- ful and reflective can be their own companions. (6) Sexual Passion. — This is one of the most potent appetites. When united with other feelings of a higher order, such as the aesthetic appreciation of beauty, the desire for congenial companionship, the appreciation of home, the tenderness of personal affection, and the moral sentiments that arise from the sacred relation of marriage, it becomes the bond of society and a potent factor of civilization. It is the one human appetite which demands another human being for its satisfaction, and hence has a peculiar moral and social character. 3. Acquired Appetites. We have treated thus far of the natural appetites These are implanted by nature in the organization of man. for his preservation. There are, however, other appetites s:ensations. 245 which are acquired. The most common forms of acquired appetites are those which liave for their end the artificial stimulation of the nervous system. Tobacco, alcohol, and opium are the favorite drugs employed for this purpose. At first they affect the system disagreeably, but after a time the stimuLation which they afford becomes an object of desire. The use of such drugs finally creates a periodic, and in many cases an almost incessant, demand. The use of a stimulant is within the sphere of voluntary action ; the effect it produces is wholly beyond this sphere. An acquired appetite is not always so much the result of an act of Will as it is the result of physical action. One who begins the use of stimulants seldom intends to acquire a dominating appetite, lie is usually astonished, possibly distressed, when he first discovei-s that he is in bondage to it. He tries to escape responsibility by saying he never intended to become a slave to his appetite. The psychological history of a destructive appetite usually involves no psychical action whatever, simply inaction. Not to resist, is to surrender; to sur- render, is to permit the soul to become the slave of the body. Here, as everywhere, "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." Thf» craving for alcohol requires no voluntary act to establish it as a dis- ease beyond all control and beyond all cure. If not positively forbidden to act, the physical cause accomplishes its effect as inevi- tably in the brain as in a test-tube. The only security is in keeping the cause so far from the body that its properties do not affect it. 4. Inherited Appetites. Appetites acquired by one generation are sometimes transmitted to following generations, having all the force of natural appetites. There is evidence that acquired peculiarities of natural appetite, such as craving for cer= tain particular kinds of food, are capable of inheritance. The artificial appetites are also transmitted, though fre- quently in a somewhat modified form. Whoever creates 246 PSYCEOLOQY. an artificial appetite affects his posterity as well as himself. Although he may limit indulgence within what he may consider the bounds of moderation^ he can have no assur- ance that all who derive the aj^petite from him will have this power of control also. " The passion known as dipsomania, or alcohoHsm, is so frequently transmitted that all are agreed in considering its heredity as the rule. Not, however, that the passion for drink is always transmitted in that identical form, for it often degenerates into mania, idiocy and hallucination. Conversely, insanity in the parents may become alcoholism in the descendants. This continual metamorphosis plainly shows how near passion comes to insanity, how closely the successive generations are connected, and, consequently, what a weight of responsibility rests on each individual. 'A frequent effect of alcoholism,' says Dr. Magnus Huss, 'is partial or total atrophy of the brain ; the organ is reduced in volume, so that it no longer fills the bony case. The consequence is a mental degeneration, which in the progeny results in lunatics and idiots.' " ^ 5. The Control of Appetite. Man is the only animal who has the intelligence to make the pleasure afforded in the gratification of appetite a dis- tinct object of pursuit. He does this through his power of conception, by which he forms a concept of pleasure as an end of effort and, accordingly, makes '^provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof.^' The animals less intelligent than man, not possessing this power, do not pursue pleasure as an end ; but, when their apj^etites are satisfied, are content to await their natural return. Man's intelligence was given him as a guide, not as a servant of artificial appetite. He can use it for its natural end, the discovery of truth, or he can jiervert it for self-gratifica- tion. He realizes his dignity as a personal being only SilNSATtONS. 247 when he governs his appetites by the laws of Reason and Conscience, and, as a rational master, refuses to surrender himself to a sensuous slavery. In the lower animals, it is believed, appetite has a general trust- worthiness. It certainly is not so in man. Error is more common than accuracy in the blind impulses of mere appetite. Almost all medicines, which science prescribes, appetite rejects. It is, indeed, possible that appetite is often right in its protests against medica- ments, but certainly we cannot claim that appetite is a safe criterion. Whence this distinction between the appetites of man and the lower animals? It may be attributed partly to the presence of acquired and inherited api)etites in man, partly to his concept of the pleasur- able as the end of appetite, partly to a purpose that he should be compelled to employ his intelligence where the mere animal is served by instinct. 6. Relation of Appetite to Education. Appetite has two important practical bearings upon education : (1) as affording a serious impediment to mental improvement, and (2) as furnishing opportunity for strengthening the power of self-control. (1) Appetite as an Impediment to Education. — We have only to reflect a little to see that the appetites are obstruc- tions to the development of the mental powers. All mental application, beyond what is purely spontaneous, is, at first and apart from its fruits, disagreeable. The sensations of weariness and restlessness must be put out of consciousness before much reflection can be accomplished. These sensations absorb the attention and distract it from the process of learning. The child must be made to sit still, to forget his body, and to attend to the teacher's words. It is a struggle of mind against matter. It never wholly ends and the mind is never the complete victor. 248 PSYCHOLOGT. The spontaneous activities of the child may be summed up under tlie word "■ phiy " ; the reflective efforts, under the word ''study." Play is easier than study, because play calls out action along established lines of least resist- ance, while study involves a new kind of action. The partial victory that mind wins over the body is won only gradually and by ingenious devices and much patience on the part of the teacher. How to abstract the child's attention from his body and fix it upon his work, is tlie problem which the teacher of children has to solve. (2) Appetite and Self-control. — The animal cannot study, because it has no power over its appetites. It lives in the periodic round of its sensations and has no power to appreciate motives above them. The child also is inca- pable of self -directed study until, by development, he comes to the exercise of his suj^erior jDOwers. When he can separate the future from the present and appreciate the meaning of ideas, he becomes capable of controlling his activities, and by an act of Will withdraws attention from his j^hysical cravings and directs it to facts and principles. Every victory over his appetites strengthens his power of self-control. Finally, he can study even when his brain is weary and can quiet his restless muscles. But this triumph is merely relative. The majority win a very imperfect victory. Only a fcAV obtain a high degree of self-mastery. None are completely liberated from the conditions of organic appetency. Physical cravings set limits to all higher activity, and the bodily life demands that the natural appetites shall have their normal indulg- ence. If they do not receive it, the body enters its pro- test in disease. SENSATIONS. 249 In this section, on "Appetite," we have considered : 1, Appetite Distingulslied front Sutiple Sentience, 2, Natural Appetites, 3, AcquiTed Appetites, 4:, Inherited Appetites, 5, The Control of A2)2)etite. 6, The Relation of Ap2)etite to Education, References : (1) Mark Hopkins' Outline Study of 3Ian, p. 205. (2) Bain's The Senses and the Intellect, p. 240. (3) Id., p. 243. (4) Sir Charles Bell's Anatomy and Philosophy of Exiwession, p. 91. (5) Bain's The Senses and the Intellect, p. 241. (6) Ribot's Heredity^ pp, 85, 86. CHAPTER tl. SENTIMENTS. THE THREE CLASSES OF SENTIMENTS. Sentiments are of three kinds : (1) Emotions, which are feelings of internal excitement in the soul, and might be called '' commotions ^^ if it were not for the fact that they have a tendency to discharge themselves outwardly by physical expression ; (2) Desires, which are feelings of internal craving in the soul, demanding something for their satisfaction ; and (3) Affections, which are feelings of internal fullness in the soul, going forth toward some object outside of self, on account of some quality in the object. Each of these forms of sentiment will be con- sidered in a separate section, to be followed by a discussion of the Development of Sensibility. SECTIOIT L • EMOTION. 1. Tlie Nature of Emotion. Emotion (from the Latin e, out of, and movere, to move) is an excitation in the soul arising through the apprehen- sion of ideas and tending to find outward expression. It differs from sensation, as all sentiments do, in having a SENTIMENTS. 251 psycliical ratlier than a physical origin. It is distingnished from other sentiments in tending to express itself out- wardly, as in laughter or tears. Desire, on the other liand, is an internal craving. Affection is like emotion in being an internal fullness, but has a definite outward object, while emotion has not. We may best illustrate these differences by typical examples. Grief is an emotion, consisting in a general disturbance of a painful kind in the soul, usually caused by the loss of some dear object and tending to express itself in sadness of countenance and tears. Ambition is a desire, consisting in a craving for the possession of power, a state of uneasiness which is not ended until the craving is satisfied. Pity is an affec- tion, being a state of interest in the distress of another, a fullness that goes out toward a definite object. These out- line distinctions will be more clearly apprehended as we proceed to discuss the various forms of sentiment. 2. The Expression of Emotion. While it is not essential to the existence of emotion that it should be exjiressed, all emotion tends to find expres- sion. An emotion and its expression must not, however, be identified. An emotion is a form of consciousness. The expression of an emotion is a movement, or series of movements, in the physical organism. The visible move- ment in the organism is certainly not the cause of the emotion, but its effect. The emotion itself cannot be localized in any part of the body, as a sensation can, but is simply a conscious state. Grief, for example, is such a state. Tears and facial contractions, the expressive signs of grief, are physical effects. The soul reacts upon the 252 PSYCHOLOGY. body involuntarily and sets in motion the motor meclian- ism. How a conscious state can produce a physical change is quite as much beyond our knowledge as how a physical movement can produce a state of consciousness in an act of Sense-perception. The particular forms of expression will be noted in connection with the descrip- tion of each emotion. Darwin has attempted to account for the phenomena of expression by the supposition that they are results of organic action, without reference to expression as a special end or purpose. He refers the various forms of expression to the following three principles : I. " The principle of serviceable associated Habits.— Certain complex actions are of direct or indirect service under certain states of tlie mind, in order to relieve or gratify certain sensations, desires, etc. ; and whenever the same state of mind is induced, however feebly, there is a tendency through the force of habit and association for the same movements to be performed, though they may not then be of the least use. Some actions ordinarily associated through habit with certain states of the mind may be partially repressed through the Will, and in such cases the muscles which are least under the separate control of the Will are the most liable still to act, caus- ing movements which we recognize as expressive. In certain other cases the checking of one habitual movement requires other slight movements; and these are likewise expressive. II. " The principle of Antithesis.— Certain states of the mind lead to certain habitual actions which are of service, as under our first principle. Now when a directly opposite state of mind is induced, there is a strong and involuntary tendency to the performance of movements of a directly opposite nature, though these are of no use ; and such movements are in some cases highly expressive. III. "The principle of actions due to the constitution of the Nervous System, independently from the first of the Will, and inde- pendently to a certain extent of Habit. — When the sensorium is strongly excited, nerve-force is generated in excess and is transmitted in certain definite directions, depending on the connection of the nerve-cells and partly on habit; or the supply of nerve-force may, as it appears, be interrupted. Effects are thus produced which we SENTIMENTS. 253 recognize as expressive. This third principle may, for the sake of brevity, be called that of the direct action of the nervous system." ^ No one can doubt, after reading Darwin's explanatory chapters, that these three principles explain many of the expressive actions of both man and animals. Design is not, however, clearly excluded from that constitution of the nervous system which renders certain expressive movements possible. There is no disproof of Sir Charles Bell's view "that man has been created with certain muscles specially adapted for the expression of his feelings." That certain muscles are so adapted, there is no doubt. It would require great boldness to affirm that they were not intended to be so. 3. The Production of Emotion. Emotion is produced as the accompaniment of certain ideas. A telegraphic dispatch is the occasion of joy or sorrow, according to the ideas it conveys ; and through these it produces the most opposite physical effects. The cause of the difPerence is certainly not any physical attri- bute of the telegraphic dispatch. The writing on the palmer produces no effect, except upon a mind that under- stands its contents, that is, the emotion is produced only as the concomitant of ideas. The poet and the orator do not awaken emotion by telling us that we ought to have a certain kind of feeling, or by advancing arguments to prove that it is suitable. They present certain ideas which awaken the desired emotion as their spontaneous accompaniment. Ideal presence is the condition of emo- tion. The objects to which the ideas relate may be real or unreal ; the effect is the same, if we surrender our- selves to the illusion. If a real sight would make us sad, a vivid description, even though it be fictitious, will have a similar effect. The emotion arises as an inex- plicable accompaniment of certain ideas. Imagination 254 PSYCHOLOGY. is the idealizing activity which produces emotions by creating the ideas which they accompany. It is^ tliere- fore, in a special sense, the faculty of the poet and the orator. William James has advanced the doctrine that an emotion is identical with the feeling of the bodily changes by which it is ex- pressed. ^ He admits, however, that, according to common sense, we first feel an emotion and afterward experience its bodily expression. While the majority of mankind will, probably, continue to accept the verdict of common sense, it is certainly true that a particular emotion may be produced by actions expressive of the emotion. As he forcibly says: "Every one knows how a panic is increased by flight and how the giving way to the symptoms of grief or anger in- creases those passions themselves. Each fit of sobbing makes the sorrow more acute and calls forth another fit stronger still, until at last repose only ensues with lassitude and with the apparent exhaus- tion of the machinery. In rage, it is notorious how we ' work our- selves up ' to a climax by repeated outbreaks of expression. Refuse to express a passion and it dies. Count ten before venting your anger, and its occasion seems ridiculous. "Whistling to keep up courage is no mere figure of speech. On the other hand, sit all day in a moping posture, sigh, and reply to everything with a dismal voice, and your melancholy lingers. There is no more valuable pre- cept in moral education than this, as all who have experience know : if we wish to conquer undesirable emotional tendencies in ourselves, we must assiduously, and in the first instance cold-bloodedly, go through the outward motions of those contrary dispositions we prefer to cultivate. The reward of persistency will infallibly come, in the fading out of the sullenness or depression and the advent of real cheerfulness and kindliness in their stead. "^ All this assumes, however, that we know these actions. The emotions then arise as accompaniments of the ideas thus generated. A funny book will do the same for us that a good laugh will: it will provoke the emotions of mirth, which will then, if strong enough, make us laugh. Can we suppose that a funny story would make any one laugh except through his consciousness, that is, through his ideas? SENTIMENTS, 265 4. Kinds of Emotion. Emotion appears in four forms sufficiently distinct to admit of being grouped into separate classes : (1) Egoistic Emotion, or that which arises as the concomitant of ideas relating directly to self and the interests of self ; (2) Esthetic Emotion, or that which arises as the concomitant of ideas of nature and art; (3) Ethical Emotion, or that which arises as the concomitant of intentional actions, viewed as in, or out of, harmony with moral latv ; and (4) Religious Emotion, or that which arises as the concomitant of the idea of personal power and perfection in the Siijpreme Being. We have already seen why it is difficult to classify the feelings, and it is not pretended that this classification is either exhaustive or without cross-divisions. It is offered as a natural and practically useful classification, and has the advantage of employing language in its accepted meaning, without straining words to fit an arbitrary manner of division. 5. Egoistic Emotions. These emotions may be grouped as follows : ' (1) Emotions of Joy. — These are all pleasurable. They are of different degrees of intensity, and we have many words to exj)ress this variation. We may distinguish {a) Contentment, a low form of joyful emotion, tending to express itself in a calm and placid countenance ; {h) Cheerfulness, a greater degree of Joy, tending to express itself in playful movements, and snatches of song and laughter ; and {(•) Rapture, an ecstatic state of Joy, tend- ing to express itself in very demonstrative ways, as in WJ56 PSYCHOLOGY, exclamations, leaping and dancing. Joy marks a transi- tion from a lower to a higher idea of self-perfection. (2) Emotions of Sorrow. — These are disagreeable, the opposites of the joyful emotions. Their principal forms are {a) Depression, which is a vague feeling of unhappi- ness, manifested in a dull and lifeless countenance ; (h) Dejection, which is a deeper sadness, indicated by the downcast eye, lengthened features, and a lack of interest in surroundings ; and (c) Grief, which is a strong and agitating distress, expressed by floods of tears and con- vulsive movements of the face, which even strong men cannot always resist. In its most intense form. Grief does not flow out in tears, but stupefies and transfixes the whole man. The effort to repress it, or the highest degree of it, may lead to an injury to the brain. Sorrow marks a transition from a higher to a lower idea of self-perfection. As these two kinds of emotion, the joyful and the sorrowful, are opposite in nature, so also they tend to express themselves in opposite ways. Joy expresses itself in the levity (from the Latin levis, light), or uplifting, of the features of the face; Sorrov/, in the gravity (from the Latin gravis, heavy), or drawing down, of the features. An examination of Figure 19 shows the arrangement of the muscles which give expression to the face. Those of the region round the mouth are more fully exhibited in Figure 20. When these muscles are allowed to hang by their own weight, under the influence of gravity, they express Sorrow. When they are lifted by the action of nervous and muscular force, they express Joy. The effect of their action is shown in Figure 21. Regarding the matter now from the subjective side. Sorrow gives us a feeling of weakness; Joy, a feeling of strength. This feeling cannot always be a truthful report of our actual physical condition, because, without increasing our strength at all, a pleasant idea produces Joy within us, which we at once express by lifting up the downcast features. We can explain the transition only by an involuntary reaction of the soul upon the body, according as the ideas produce Joy or Sorrow. "In Joy," SENTUIENTS. 257 says Sir Charles Bell, ''the eyebrow is raised moderately, but with- out any angularity ; the forehead is smooth, the eye full, lively, sparkling- ; the nostril is moderately inflated and a smile is on the lips. In all the exhilarating emotions, the eyebrow, the eyelids, the nostril, and the angle of the mouth are raised. In the depressing passions it is the reverse. For example, in discontent the brow is clouded, the nose peculiarly arched, and the angle of the mouth drawn down."^ "Writers of fiction, if also observers of nature, sometimes describe a man who has just received some depressing news — say, a heavy bill — as presenting a very long face. Can we, from actual observation and analysis, say that a long face is a mode of expression? ... In a case where one side of the face is paralyzed by destruction of its motor nerve, the paralyzed side after a time drops under the action of gravity. In such a case I have demon- strated by measurement that the paralyzed side may be three-quarters of an inch longer than the other side when in action. The actual length of the face can then be increased if the muscles are paralyzed ; so also if they be relaxed from want of nerve-force coming to the muscles. A face that is long, owing to nerve-muscular conditions, may be a direct expression of the brain condition ; a relaxed condi- tion of the facial muscles, allowing the face to fall and lengthen, is the outcome of feeble nerve-currents coming down from its nerve- centres. A long face may, then, indicate weakened brain force, and this often accompanies the mental condition following from a sudden disappointment. Another factor in producing a long face as a temporary condition, is the falling of the lower jaw."^ Ideas seem in this case to react upon the brain very much as in the reaction of Phantasy (pages 90, 91). (3) Emotions of Pride. — These give a certain pleasure to the mind. They accompany exalted ideas of self. Pride assumes the forms of («) Self-complacency, {h) Vanity, and [c) Haughtiness, They all express themselves by an erect stature, a lifting of the features, and the stronger forms by the contraction of the eyebrows. (4) Emotions of Humility.— Humility is the opposite of Pride. It accompanies a low idea of one^s merits. It ap- 258 PSYCHOLOGY. pears as {a) Modesty, {h) Meekness, and (c) Lowliness. 'i'hese are manifested b}' blushing, the falling of the eyes, and, in the most intense forms, by the prostration of the body. "A proud man exhibits his sense of superiority over others by holding his head and body erect. He is haughty (from the French limit, high), and makes himself appear as large as possible; so that metaphorically he is said to be swollen or puffed up with Pride. A peacock or a turkey-cock strutting about with pufted-up feathers, is sometimes said to be an emblem of Pride. The arrogant man looks down on others and wdth lowered eyelids hardly condescends to see them ; or he may show his contempt by slight movements about the nostrils or lips. Hence the muscle which everts the lower lip has been called the musculus sujjerbus (from the Latin superbus, proud)." ^ See Figure 20, h. There is another muscle calkd the corrugator super cilii, or wrinkler of the eyebrow (Figure 19, 22), whose agency in contracting the eyebrow in the expression of Pride has given us the word "supercilious." As the emotion of Pride is attended with a feeling of physical strength, so that of Humility is accompanied with a feeling of weakness. Hence, there is the tend- ency to bow the head and prostrate the body. The phenomenon of blushing is the usual expression of Modesty. Darwin says: " Blush- ing is the most pecuh'ar and the most human of all expressions. Monkeys redden with passion, but it would require an overwhelming amount of evidence to make us believe that any animal could blush. The reddening of the face from a blush is due to the relaxation of the muscular coats of the small arteries, by which the capillaries be- come filled with blood ; and this depends on the proper vaso-motor centre being affected. No doubt if there be at the same time much mental agitation, the general circulation will be affected ; but it is not due to the action of the heart that the net-work of minute vessels covering the face becomes under a sense of shame gorged with blood. We can cause laughing by tickling the skin, weeping or frowning by a ))low, trembling with the fear of pain, and so forth; but we cannot cause a blush, as Dr. Burgess remarks, by any physical means, — that is, by any action of the body. It is the mind which must be affected. Blushing is not only involuntary; but the wish SENTIMENTS. 259 to restrain it, by leading to self-attention, actually increases the tendency." ' (5) Emotions of Hope. — Hope arises as the accompani- meidt of ex^^ected good. It gives firmness to the soul even in the presence of danger. It enlivens, cheers, and stimu- lates to action. Its forms are {a) Self-confidence, when personal action is necessary; {h) Daring, when danger has to be met, and (c) Her.ism, when life has to be imperilled. Its characteristic modes of expression all indicate strength, as the erect form, the open eye, the composed features, and the eager attitude. (G) Emotions ot Fear. — Fear is the opposite of Hope. It accompanies ex^oected evil. It is the soul's weakness. It may result also from bodily weakness. It is always painful, as Hope is pleasurable. Its forms are {a) Anxiety, {b) Alarm, {<•) Terror, and {cl) Horror. Its bodily signs are trembling and crouching, the opposites of the composure and erect posture of Hope. In its most intense forms it is paralyzing, rendering fliglit, to which it disposes, impossible. The expression of Fear indicates a greater departure from the normal and customary bodily condition than the expression of Hope. The heart beats violently. The surface becomes pale. A cold per- spiration exudes. The hairs on the skin stand erect and the muscles tremble. The respiration is quickened, the mouth becomes dry and the voice fails. (7) Emotions of Wonder. — Wonder is the emotion pro- duced by the unexpected. Its forms are {a) Surprise, {b) Amazement, and {c) Awe. It is expressed by suspended respiration, a dropping of the jaw, a fixed stare of the eyes, and an extending of the hands. 260 FSYCJIOLOOY. (8) Sympathetic Emotions. — AVe are so constituted that we share the emotions of otliers. Emotions, of whatever kind, communicated in this indirect manner, may be called Sympathetic. The word " Sympathy " is properly applied to any feeling corresponding witli the feeling of another and occasioned by it. Antipathy is incompatibility of feeling, the opposite of Sympatliy. All emotion is contagious. The good or bad humor of a speaker influences an entire audience. Joy and Sorrow, Hope and Fear, are pervasive. Laughter excites laughter; tears provoke tears. A brave leader inspires his followers with his own courageous emotions ; a routed regiment spreads panic through an entire army. We often value persons for their prevailing emotional states, for these have as powerful an influence as any personal qualities. Emotional states are more easily modified than destroyed. The fountains of laughter and of tears lie very close together. It is impossible in many cases to check an emotion suddenly where it is very easy to change its character. One who is skilled in the man- agement of the feelings never tries to destroy an emotion in an instant, but to divert and modify it. Like a powerful stream of water, emotion can be drawn into another channel, but it cannot be annihilated. All excitement must have its expression, but a modification of the emotion may render possible a new and unex- pected outlet. 6. ^^stlietic Emotions. Esthetic Emotion is the sentiment that arises in the soul as the concomitant of ideas of nature and art. This is different from the simple sentience that is produced by the contemplation of forms, colors and motions. Esthetic sentiment is a highly intellectualized emotion, arising only in those who are capable of forming ideas and compre- hending their meaning. Our agsthetic emotions may be classed according to the qualities that give rise to them. On this principle of classification they are as follows ; SENTIMENTS, 261 (1) Emotions of the Comical. — These depend princi- pally upon the apprehension of some incongrnity when ao harm or danger accompanies it. If actual or possible injury results from an incongruity, very different emotions are produced, excluding those of the Comical, as Fear, Sorrow, Sympathy, etc. For example, if one slips and falls when walking confidently along, without injury of any kind, it seems comical ; but if one is injured, the incongruity of the sprawling figure is not comical. Only the heartless can laugh at a misfortune. Emotions of the Comical are produced by {a) Humop, {(>) Wit, (6') the Ludicrous, and {d) the Ridiculous. Humor is a genial play of ideas, provoking smiles and laughter. Wit is a startling revelation of an unexpected coincidence or re- semblance and, when not severe, as it sometimes is, also provokes smiles and laughter. ^ The Ludicrous is some- thing that we may laugh at without a serious loss of respect for it. The Ridiculous is something that we laugh at as unreasonable or insignificant. The philosophy of the Comical presents a difficult and com- plicated subject. The tendency to laugh has been regarded by some, as by Hobbes, for example, as resulting from a feeling of superiority in ourselves or of contempt for others. This is true in the case of the Ridiculous, but, as Coleridge has said, is contrary to the facts in other cases. ^ Aristotle's definition of the cause of laughter is, — surprise at perceiving anything out of place, when the unusualness is not accompanied by a sense of serious danger. " Such surprise," adds Coleridge, " is always pleasurable." ^^ We may safely say that incongruity without danger is usually comical, but, as we shall see, this requires some limitation. "Why do we smile," says Herbert Spencer, "when a child puts on a man's hat ? or what in- duces us to laugh on reading that the corpulent Gibbon was unable to rise from his knees after making a tender declaration ? The usual reply to such questions is, that laughter results from a perception of 26^ PSYCHOLOGY. incongruity."" But, as Bain says, " There are many incongruities that may produce anything but a hiugli. A decrepit man under a heavy burden, five loaves and two fishes among a multitude, and all unfitness and gross disproportion; an instrument out of tune, a fly in ointment, snow in May, Archimedes studying geometry in a siege, and all discordant things." ^^ He then notes " degradation " as a differentia of the Comical, but, certainly, we laugh at many things that involve no degradation. He thinks he finds the real essence of the Comical, however, in a "reaction from the serious." "So in- tense," he says, "among the majority of persons is the titillation arising from being suddenly set loose from this peculiar Idnd of restraint, that they are willing to be screwed up into the serious posture for a moment, in order to luxuriate in the deliverance. The comic temperament is probably determined by a natural inaptitude for the dignified, solemn, or serious, rendering it especially irksome to sustain the attitude of reverence, and very delightful to rebound from it." ^2 There is much of this recognizable in our experience of the Comical, and yet we cannot identify the Comical with mere lilj- eration from restraint. "Laughter," as Spencer says, "naturally results only when consciousness is unawares transferred from great things to small — only when there is what we call a descending incon- gruity,"^* As a physical expression, laughter is probably the dis- charge of nervous energy gathered for a serious effort and let loose along the lines of least resistance, finding vent in the muscular move- ments of the vocal and respiratory organs, and finally, if not pre- viously expended, in the contortion of the whole body. But there may be laughter without the Comical, as in the laughter of hysterij*. We must look deeper than this for its real cause as an expression of the emotions of the Comical. Mivart points out that there are two kinds of laughter, "one physical and sensuous, the other intel- lectual." " It is with the latter that we have to deal when speaking of the emotions of the Comical, These certainly depend upon an intellectual apprehension. Spencer cites as an illustration the ar- rival of a tame kid upon the stage in the midst of a tragedy, who, after staring at the audience, goes up to two reconciled lovers and licks their hands. This, he says, is a case of " descending incon- gruity." The nervous energy is forced into a " small channel " by this incongruity and discharges itself in laughter.^® But Spencer's quantitative terms, "large channels" and "small channels" do not SENTIMENTS, 263 apply to ideas. The apprehension of the " descending incongruity " is a qualitative distinction made by the Intellect. Immediately there rises in consciousness an emotion of the Ludicrous and laugh- ter follows. How is the qualitative distinct i(ni of the " descending incongruity " translated into the movement of nervous energy toward a small channel, which it overflows and so expends itself in laugh- ter ? If we reply, the mind, expecting a serious and continuous exertion, gathers the nervous energy for such an effort, from which it suddenly ceases on the perception of the incongruity, leaving the accumulated force to expend itself along lines of least resistance, we assume that a qualitative distinction in the mind can produce a quantitative etfect in the nervous system. It certainly cannot be believed that the kid on the stage produces any other pJiy&ical effect at this juncture than at another. We seem, therefore, to have posi- tive evidence that the soul reacts upon the body in an inscrutable manner, so that qualitative differences in consciousness produce quantitative differences in the nervous system. (2) Emotions of the Beautiful. — As we have seen, there is a sensuous beauty which produces pleasurable sensations ^page 236). There is also an ideal beauty, or perfection of type, which is apprehended only by the Intellect and is not explicable in terms of sensation. Of every kind of being there is the perfect type, not necessarily actually embodied in any known form, but existent for the Imagi- nation. Such a perfect cype is called "the ideal." The contemplation of it affords a pleasure which we call the Emotion of the Beautiful. The realm of the ideal is the sphere of Art, which some who can enjoy merely sensuous beauty do not appreciate, because they have no ideals. Objects in which an ideal type is realized are called Beautiful. Those which contain some elements and sug- gestions only of the ideal are called Graceful. Those con- taining enough of the ideal to constitute a pleasing picture are called Picturesque. The appreciation of ideal beauty 264 PSYCHOLOGY. is too intellectual to require marked bodily expression. The crude and ignorant are often struck with surprise on beholding an embodiment of beauty and give expression to their feelings by demonstrations similar to those of Wonder. The theories of the nature of beauty are too numerous and com- plicated to admit of discussion here, and must be sought in special treatises on Esthetics." For the psychologist it is sufficient to re- solve the emotion of the Beautiful into its constituents, and to deter- mine its leading characteristics. Physical objects possess properties which affect us agreeably through our superior senses. We recog- nize, therefore, a sensuous beauty, or adaptation in things to affect us pleasantly through our sense-organs (page 237). But a pleasure of a different and higher order is afforded through our apprehension of ideas. Plato taught that certain types, or ideas, have existed eternally in the divine mind, and that these are absolutely perfect (page 143). Such ideas are essentially beautiful, and the embodiment of them renders the thing in which they are embodied beautiful. The emotions experienced in contemplating these perfect types are the emotions of the Beautiful. We may doubt the existence in the mind of such absolute and eternal ideas as Plato describes, for we find that the typical form of each race of mankind is the model of beauty for that race. The Hottentots do not admire the Venus de Medici, and Caucasians certainly do not regard a Hottentot Venus as a perfect type of womanhood. We may believe, then, that each race forms its own idea of a perfect type and that this varies with individuals, but we cannot doubt that there exists, for superior minds at least, an ideal beauty, which differs from sensuous beauty in being appre- hended by the Intellect. From the apprehension of ideals rises the aesthetic judgment, which renders possible a theory of art and a sci- ence of criticism which can render a reason why one thing is beauti- ful and another is not. Analysis shows that assthetic judgments are based on either (1) the intrinsic value of the idea expressed, or (2) the adaptation of the means employed to express the idea. Here is a foundation for rational art criticism. If ideas have no intrinsic value, all pleasure derived from art is merely sensuous. But we regard some ideas as intrinsically more important than others. The SENTIMENTS. 265 idea of a man has a higher value than that of a leaf. The picture of an ideal man has a higher art-value, that is, if well expressed, has more beauty, than that of an ideal leaf. The idea of a perfect face is superior to that of a perfect foot. It contains more and nobler accessory ideas. It is an index of thought, feeling and character. It is a medium of moral and spiritual expression. Again, some forms, colors, and proportions are better adapted than others for the expression of ideas. All art is purposive, or teleological. It con- veys meaning, and meaning implies an end and a plan for the ac- complishment of the end. Art aims to discover elevated and in- trinsically valuable ideas, and then to give them the most perfect expression. It implies purpose, order, adaptation, idealization. It is, therefore, supremely intellectual. Its constructive faculty is Imagination. The enjoyment of art also requires the exercise of Imagination, in order to interpret the idea of the artist. The me- chanical accuracy of photography is not considered artistic, because it is blindly reproductive. Mere portrait-painting is not a high form of art, although it involves great skill of execution. Historical- painting is artistic mainly as it permits the use of Imagination in representing a vast and complicated scene in small compass and in selecting the proper moment for representation. The difference between a realistic imitation of a plate of oysters, even though they are so natural as to stimulate the appetite, and Raphael's Sistine Madonna, is not one of degree, but one of kind. Imitation is me- chanical. Idealization is intellectual. It is idealization which con- stitutes the difference between imitative and creative art, between sensuous and ideal beauty. The emotions of the beautiful, in the proper sense, arise as concomitants of the ideal, which is the product of the idealizing process. The ideal derives its character from the embodiment of an idea in its typical, perfect, universal form. The ideal often suggests the infinite and the eternal, because it is a pure idea stripped of the mere accidents of place and time. Hence it satisfies all imaginative souls, and it may be truly said, — " A thing of beauty is a joy forever." (3) Emotions of the Sublime. — The emotions of the Sublime are produced when an idea manifests itself in excess of the form through which it is revealed, and so 266 PSYCHOLOGY. expresses unwonted power. The Imagination is thus overwhehned and Phantasy is unable to confine the idea to ordinary limits. The lowest form of sublimity is Grandeur. Its highest is Awe. The last is akin to Fear, and tends to express itself by the external signs of that Emotion. Vast spatial extent, like that of the ocean, the Alpine mountains, s.nd the celestial distances contemplated by the astronomer ; incon- ceivable duration, like that of the geological periods and the idea of eternity; irresistible power, like that of the tornado, the avalanche, and the volcano ; terrific sounds, like those of the thunder, the tem- pest, and the earthquake; incalculable rapidity of movement, like that of the engulfing flame of a conflagration, the dash of the sea on the rocks, and the flash of liglitning ; — all produce the emotions of the sublime. So also do great daring and fortitude, especially in Royalty to truth or duty, giving rise to the morally sublime; as in the calm death of Socrates, the resolution of the Russians to burn their capital, and of the Hollanders to flood their country with the sea, rather than surrender to their enemies their homes and liberties. The sublime does not afford a province for art like that of beauty. The finite conditions of portraiture usually divest the sublime idea of its overwhelming character. If successfully represented, it fails to impress us, because in a picture time for reflection is possible and study suggests the presence of exaggeration, and when this is per- ceived " it is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous." What- ever pleasure is derived from the sublime is transitional, and a picture or statue which expresses sublimity is liable under contempla- tion to appear horrible. If the climax of action is depicted, there is no room left for the play of Imagination, and we grow weary both of contemplating that crisis which affords no advance to something beyond and of beholding a situation which, if real, could not be long sustained. Art employs the sublime very sparingly and most suc- cessfully only as an offset to beauty. Hints and suggestions of the infinite, opportunities for the exercise of Imagination, are sometimes effective, as, for example, an endless vista of open clouds, a threat- ening storm-cloud over a peaceful landscape, or some other single feature. Poetry employs the sublime more freely than pictorial oi SENTIMENTS. 267 plastic art, because while these latter can represent but a single, momentary situation, which becomes painful if really sublime, poetry can narrate a continuous story, and in its progress may follow its touches of sublimity with other and more satisfying emotions. (4) Emotions of the Pathetic. — There is a sentiment that arises as the concomitant of our apprehension of the evanescence and misfortune of beauty and goodness that might very well be called "^Esthetic Sorrow.^' Its ac- cepted name is Pathos. It is this that lends a charm to tragedy. It easily becomes mere ^^ sentimentality/^ which implies an artificial element. There is, undoubtedly, a certain aesthetic pleasure in addition to plot-interest connected with tragedy as presented on the stage. If the same scenes were to occur in real life, they would, if we were in a normal condition, shock and pain us. Why do they afford us pleasure in a drama ? They are, when dramatically represented, connected with scenic and histrionic accessories of great sensuous, and sometimes of great ideal, beauty ; they give variety to our feel- ings, affording decided contrasts, and, hence, much stimulation to our other feelings ; and, being mere make-believes, they give us the feeling that even the horrible events of life are, in a sense, mere play and illusion. The drama — and this may be said also in part of the novel — affords an opportunity for the exercise of such natural feelings as Sorrow and Pity, without any real bitterness to us. We shed our tears and exercise our sympathies without any real cost. It is easy to see how a passion for the Pathetic leads to a hollow sentimentalism. Having stirred these deeper emotions by the ficti- tious without any result in action, we form the habit of not acting when our sympathies are touched by deserving objects. Hence it is that we may weep over the beautiful heroine in the play, whose suf- ferings and death are known to be a sham, while the realistic beggar at the door of the theatre may die of cold or hunger before morning without our shedding a tear. Artificial excitation which does not lead to action gives to the emotions an artificial character, and this is sentimentality. 268 PSYCHOLOGY, 7. Ethical Emotions. Ethical emotions are those which arise in ns on account of our relations to Moral Law. In the j)i'esence of a law known to be just and right we have, in our normal state, sentiments of Reverence for the law, of Obligation to obey it, and of Responsibility for not having obeyed it. These, when analyzed, are found to be the emotive ac- companiments of judgments that it is right to obey the law and wrong to violate it. We may distinguish in addi- tion the following ethical emotions : (1) Emotions of Approval. — There are certain emotions which arise when we contemplate obedience to moral law. When we reflect upon our own obedience, there arise the feelings of Innocence and Self-respect. When we con- sider the obedience of others, we entertain toward them sentiments of Satisfaction and Respect. (2) Emotions of Disapproval. — When we reflect upon our own disobedience to moral law, we experience the emotions of Guilt and Shame. We know these feelings to be degrading to ourselves and hence, in the normal man, they induce Sorrow, which accompanies a transition from a higher to a lower idea of self-perfection. This, when profound, is Remorse, which sometimes leads to Repent- ance. The emotions of Guilt and Shame express them- selves by blushes, stammering, and other signs of con= fusion. The contemplation of moral disobedience in others leads to Distrust and Disrespect. The relation of Psychology to Ethics, or the science of right conduct, is a close and important one. A sound Psychology has rendered possible a great advance in the scientific basis and develop- ment of Ethics. It is evident that there is no separate faculty SENTIMENTS. 269 called ''Conscience," as was formerly believed and taiight.^^ Con- science is only another name for the Moral Consciousness, or con- sciousness applied to moral subjects. It reveals to us (1) a knowledge of moral distinctions and of the law by which these distinctions of "right" and "wrong" are made; (2) an experience of moral senti- ments, such as approval and disapproval ; and (3) moral freedom, or voluntary choice between right and wrong courses of conduct. Thus understood, Ethics is seen to be a real science, deriving its facts from the Moral Consciousness. It may be considered as an extension of Psychology in a particular direction, the sphere of right conduct, as Logic is in the direction of pure thought, and as Esthetics is in the direction of higher sensibility. We have the less need to enlarge upon this branch of Psychology in a general treatise, because it is the exclusive topic of a special study. 8. Religious Emotions. Religious emotions are those which arise when we think of the Supreme Beings the Author and Preserver oi Life, as a Living Person. Some form of religion is re- garded by naturalists as universal among the races of man^i^ and no tribe has been discovered incapable of re- ligious education. 20 The ethical emotions are usually blended with the religious, though not invariably. The emotions awakened by the idea of Deity vary widely, ac- cording to the intellectual and moral development of races and persons, but the following are characteristic forms of religious feeling : (1) The Emotion of Dependence. — Every human being feels his dependence upon a power outside of and above himself. If he believes in the existence of a Personal Being who is the Creator and Ruler of the world, this feeling prompts him to offer prayers for the divine protec- tion and assistance. Sacrifice also, when it is believed to be aoceptablcj is offered, in the hope of propitiating favor. 270 PSYCnOLOGY. Although the origirx of religion is usually referred to other than emotional grounds by those who have attempted to give an account of it, a German tlieologian, known also as a philosopher, F. E. D. Schleiermacher (17G8-1834), regarded religion as primarily founded upon the feeliag of absolute dependence. This view has been ac- cepted by others and is assumed by them as the starting-point of the philosophy of religion. "The essential germ of the religious life," says J. D. Morell, ' ' is concentrated in the absolute feeling of depend- ence on infinite power." ^^ "The perennial source of religion, opened , afresh in every new-born soul, " says Newman Smyth, ' ' is the feeling of absolute dependence. " ^^ Others hold that religion ' ' depends for its existence on the essential nature of reason. . . . Before the re- ligious feeling acquires the distinctness of a notion and urges to conscious action," says D. G. Brinton, "it must assume at least three postidates, and without them it cannot rise into cognition. These are as follows : I. There is Order in things. II. This order is one of Intelligence. III. All Intelligence is one in kind."^^ The universality of the laws of thought (page 162), the intellectual neces- sity of Absolute and Infinite Being (pages 181, 183) and a First Cause (page 198), and the presence of intelligent design in nature (pages 190, 197), are grounds on which these three postulates are based. The religious emotions are not the cause of religion, but effects in the sphere of feeling resulting from religious ideas. The starting-point of religion is to be found in the tendency of the human mind to explain all phenomena in tiie terms of personality. This tendency seems to be based on the conviction that mind and person- ality are manifest everywhere in nature. (2) The Emotion of Adoration. — This is the emotion which prompts us to worshi]?. It arises in the soul upon the contemplation of the j^ower, j^erfection, benevolence^ and holiness of the Deity. It is awakened even by certain glorious aspects of nature^ regarded as expressions of personality, which have led to nature-worshij"). Adoration expresses itself through hymns and ascriptions of praise. The sun, the sky, the winds, the ocean, the clouds, day, night, iime^ — aU seem to the untutored mind to be personal forces, full of SENTIMENTS. 271 life and energy, sometimes kindly favoring, and sometimes malig- nantly marring, the plans of men. Hence, they become objects of worship. They are propitiated by sacrifices, entreated with prayers, honored with shrines and temples (page 125), and the grammatical gender of primitive names gives them the semblance of persons, so that Imagination weaves about them the vestures of poetry and mythology. The play of the Intellect opens a new development of religion. The mind finally employs its power of abstraction. It fixes attention upon some quality or attribute inherent in concrete things, names it, treats it as real, and reasons about it as if it were a living thing (pages 147, 148). This concept is then personified, by that poetic tendency of the Imagination which impels us to treat the creations of thought as if they were living beings; then, finally, drawn by the influence that makes the ideal seem superior to the real, the mind apotheosizes the concept, and a new deity is added to the world's pantheon. The Romans were exceedingly prolific in such deifications, surpassing the Greeks, who adhered more closely to a modified nature-worship. ' ' They had solemn abstractions mysteri- ously governing every human action. The little child was attended by over forty gods. Vatican us taught him to cry; Fabulinus, ta speak ; Edusa, to cat ; Potina, to drink ; Abeona conducted him out of the house; Interduca guided him on his way; Domiduca led him home; and Adonea led him in. So, also, there were deities con- trolling health, society, love, anger, and all the passions and virtues of men." To one with a far higher idea of Deity than any of these, a Great Teacher said: "Ye worship ye know not what; we know what we worship. . . . But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth : for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." 2"* 9. Relations of Emotion and Knowledge. While emotion is an accompaniment of ideas and its quality is determined by tliem, it also reflects a powerful influence on the intellectual processes. Some forms of {h\^ influence arc as follows : (1) Emotion antagonizes present Knowledge. — As we 272 PSYCHOLOOY. have seen (page 2G), feeling and knowing are, in a man- ner, op250sed. An emotional state is not favorable to sharp intellectual discrimination. In proportion to the intensity of the emotion, the attention is distracted from mental processes. Sound judgment requires the absence of excitement. (2) Emotion stimulates us fop future Knowledge. — Al- though emotion is unfavorable to knowledge at the time when it is experienced, it affords a stimulus to intellectual activity which is necessary to produce or avoid, according as it is pleasant or unjoleasant, a future recurrence of the emotion. The joy of discovery becomes an impulse to investigation ; sorrow over failure prompts us to more intense activity. Pride is a jDowerful incentive to knowl- edge. (3) Emotion affords a bond between forms of past Knowledge. — This has been already mentioned (page 75). Any intense experience of emotion is likely to be remem- bered, and serves to recall previous knowledge. The emotion of surprise on perceiving a new or strange object, is frequently so marked as to afford a strong link of associ- ation. Herein, in part, lies the power of novelty to fix ideas in the mind. Grief is often so associated with a place where it has been experienced, that images of it are revived whenever the feeling is repeated. (4) Emotion furnishes a powerful impulse to Imagina- tion. — We imagine most when under the influence of excitement. Hope and fear stir the soul to new and un- usual combinations of ideas. In a hopeful frame of mind, we imagine everything to be more favorable to us than it really is ; in a condition of fear, Ave imagine everything to be less favorable. The emotional periods of life are the SENTIMENTS. 273 imaginative periods. The air-castles of the hopeful youth and the romantic dreams of the entranced lover are crea- tions of an Imagination moved by emotion. The a3sthetic emotions stir Imagination to activity in pursuit of the ideal. " The poet's eye, in afinejrenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And, as Imagination bodies forth The form of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name." (5) Emotion is the principal cause of Interest. — If ob- jects and ideas produced no feelings of pleasure or pain in us, we should be indifferent to them. The word " inter- est" (from the Latin inter, between, and est, is) signifies that there is something between the person ^'^ interested '' and the thing which ''^interests/'' which can be expressed in terms of feeling. AYhat produces no feeling in us, directly or indirectly, we treat with indifference. (6) Emotion is a source of intellectual Prejudice. — A learner is likely to regard as useless a study which he finds very difficult. Whatever gratifies us, we readily regard as harmless ; and whatever pains us, we naturally consider injurious. We have a tendency to believe that what is beautiful is also innocent. The consistent seems true, even when its reality is not proved, because both consist- ency and truth produce a feeling of harmony. Inharmoni- ous emotions being often associated with inconsistent ideas, we at last regard our state of feeling as a standard of judgment without examining the facts, and this is the very meaning of prejudice. Herbart considered pleasure and pain as the results of the inter* action of ideas (representations) ; pleasure being the result of further 274 PSYCHOLOGY, ance, pain, of hindrance, in their combinations. If this were true, all harmonious intellectual activity would be pleasurable, all con- flicting mental operations, painful ; and this, to a certain extent, we find to be the case. We may discover abundant illustrative ex- amples. There is a certain painfulncss attending a confused con- versation, in which many persons are speaking on various topics at one time. A similar feeling arises from the conflict of assertions with facts, of assertions with one another, or of apparent facts ; from questions of personal duty, when opposite courses of conduct seem to be right ; from the contradictory wishes, sentiments, and judg- ments of friends ; and from every description of mental confusion. 10. Relation of Emotion to Education. Emotion, as we have just seen, is obstructive of think- ing at the moment when it exists, and yet it may be employed as a motive to mental action. From this point of view, Emotion has an important bearing upon educa- tion. Its prominence as a constituent of all psychical life also, and especially of happiness, gives it a place in every well-considered plan of development. We shall confine ourselves here to the following topics : (1) The emotive nature of children, (2) the emotive treatment of the learner, (3) the emotive influence of the environment, (4) the emotive influence of instruction, and (5) the emotive effects of practice. (1) The Emotive Nature of Children.— The first condi- tion of success in teaching is a comprehension of the emotive nature of the learner. In children the emotions have a marked spontaneity, mobility, and intensity. All young children are timid and impressible. Self-regulation is impossible to them, and they surrender themselves to every breath of influence. Without much power of volun- tary attention, their whole souls are delivered to the feel- SENTIMENTS. 275 ings of the moment, and from this cause also they are capable of the most rapid transitions of emotion. They are quick to sympathize with what they understand, but this is very little beyond what they can observe. They have small experience of consequences. Hence, they are plastic to every touch of feeling exhibited by those about them and respond readily to personal moods and to the changes of the environment in which they live. (2) The Emotive Treatment of the Learner. — Tlie emo- tional mood of the teacher is certain to impress the learner both consciously and unconsciously. The only true master of others is one who is first master of himself. Both sympathy and antipathy combine to aifect the emotional influence of a teacher. Sympathy, even when not volun- tary, will lead the pupil to reflect the emotional states of the teacher, whatever they are ; and antipathy will serve to alienate the learner, not only from the person of the teacher but from all the occupations that he may exact. Thus, a disagreeable teacher may produce in the pupil a positive dislike for study. The worriments incidental to the work of teaching are not infrequently the cause of irritation and unhappiness in the teacher, which are at once reflected by every sensitive pupil in his presence. When authority is made to rest mainly on fear, rather than on hope of approbation and mutual sympathy in labor, not only does antipathy rise between instructor and instructed, but an emotional element is present which is depressing to both mind and body, and friction consumes the energy which should be used for intellectual action. The wise teacher values cheerfulness, not only as a condi- tion of effective work, but on account of its cumulative effect upon happiness and character. There is much 276 PSYCHOLOGY. truth in Sydney Smith's saying, ''If you make children happy now, you Avill make them happy twenty years hence, by the memory of it/' There is even a deeper truth in the thought that sunshine induces the throwing open of the cloak which the storm prompts us to gather) about us for protection ; and thus we are enabled to win the spontaneous trust and admiration which welcome our influence to the learner's heart. The more delicately we treat the sensibilities of children, the more refined do they become ; the more rudely, the more blunted. A coarse teacher makes a coarse child. It is possible to produce such a condition of sensibility among pupils that a word of disapproval is a sufficient punishment ; and it is also possible to produce such a state that loud scolding and perpetual blows are wholly ineffectual in maintaining even the rudiments of order. What proceeds from reason and gentleness inspires reasonableness and love; what pro- ceeds from irritation and physical force provokes irritation and a physical response. Ideas abide and react upon conduct ; blows sting for a moment and leave little behind but fear and resentment, (3) The Emotive Influence of the Environment.— For the child, more than for adults, all things have faces and voices. The surroundings very soon impress the opening soul. Next to the teacher's own healthfulness of senti- ment, the inanimate objects, the daily companionships, and the social atmosphere which surround the learner affect his emotional nature. In many cases this influence of the environment is the stronger. Not only his egoistic, but also his aesthetic, ethical, and religious emotions take their hue from it. Therefore, beauty should be present in every practicable form and should be interpreted and SENTIMENTS. 277 impressed upon the mind ; the demoralizing example of rude manners and conduct should be excluded at least from the teacher's province ; and all contact with impurity should be guarded against. It is difficult to produce re- fined sensibilities in an environment where the aesthetic and moral standards are low. (4) The Emotive Influence of Instruction. — It is im- portant to estimate justly the value of abstract instruction in its effect upon the emotions. As we have seen (page 253), the mere exhortation to feel does not make us feel. The more of reasoning, the less of emotion. ^Esthetic or moral theories do not awaken aesthetic or ethical emo- tions. Mere precepts do not, therefore, touch the springs of the emotive life. Concrete realities, or ideas represent- ing them, are necessary to elicit feeling. An example of beauty, of justice, of tenderness, of forgiveness, deepens and quickens the corresponding emotion. Therefore, beautiful objects, just actions, tender attentions, forgiving treatment, have a higher emotional value than any doc- trines, however sound. A single lovely picture or a well- told story of a good man's deed outweighs much exhorta- tion in producing a cultivated taste or a more sensitive conscience. (5) The Emotive Effect of Practice. — We have seen how emotions are excited by doing that which is express- ive of them (page 254). This suggests a truth of great educational value. The secret of emotional training lies in practice. We develop the emotions which we call into exercise. An interest in art is awakened by imitation and production. A few lessons in drawing may do much to open the mind to the discovery and appreciation of beauty. The wrongness of an action is best emphasized, 278 PSYCHOLOGY. not wlien one has performed it, bat Avlien he lias suffered from it. The victim of a blow, of a falsehood, of a theft, is ill a position to feel a strong disapproval of the act. The wise teacher loses no opportunity to deepen the sense of duty through the consciousness of right. A very full account of the emotional psychology of small children may be found in Bernard Perez' "The First Three Years of Child- hood." The chapters on "The Sentiments" and "The Esthetic Sense in Little Children " contain many curious facts. There is, however, room for the indulgence of an almost irresistible tendency to read theories into the observed facts, many of which, without doubt, admit of two or more explanations. The dangers of infer- ence here are similar to those in the allied realm of interpreting animal feelings. As Max Miiller has said : " If there is danger from Menagerie Psychology, there is still greater danger from Nursery Psychology. Nothing is more common among psychologists than to imagine that they can study the earliest processes in the formation of the human mind by watching the awakening mental powers of a child. The illustrations taken from the nursery are not perhaps quite so fanciful as those collected from menageries, but they have often done more mischief, because they sound so much more plausible." -5 A very full discussion of the emotions in relation to education is to be found in Bain's "Education as a Science," Chapter III. The treatment suffers from a bad classification of the feelings, in which emotions, desires, and affections are confused. "That which also warps the theoretical views of Mr. Bain," says Compayre in his "History of Pedagogy," "is that he accords no in- dependence, no individual life, to the mind; and that, for him, back of the facts of consciousness, there come to view, without 9ny inter- medium, the cerebral organs." ^^ Bain also conceives of moral training as inspired by the penal code. Still, there are many valu- able hints to be obtained from this work, especially from the treat- ment of fear and the evils worked by it. Herbert Spencer's chapter on "Moral Education " in his "Education: Intellectual, Moral, and Physical," has many helpful ideas, but his doctrine of punish- ment, based on "the penal discipline of nature," leads to practical absurdity. It is simply the rule that punishment should consist SENTIMENTS, 279 entirely of consequences! The "penal discipline of nature" inflicts the gravest consequences for the slightest faults, as where a man slips and breaks his neck. Herbert Spencer's doctrine of punish- ment would permit boys to fall from high places, to breathe bad air, to poison their blood by the use of tobacco, and tal^e the consequences, which he fancies would be more wise and just than the employment of artificial punishments. The instincts of a father on this point are worth a thousand-fold more than the reasoning, in this case thoroughly fallacious, of a jihilosopher who never had to choose between administering an artificial punishment and seeing his boy break his neck ! fn this section, on "Emotion," we have eonsid* ered : — 1, The Nature of Einotion, ^. The Edcjyression of Emotion. 3. The JProduction of Emotion, 4. Kinds of J^ mot ion, 5. Egoistic Emotions, 6. JEsthetic Emotions, 7. Ethical Emotions, 8. Heligious Emotions, 9. Relations of Emotion and Knotvledge, 10, Relation of Emotion to Education, References : (1) Darwin's Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals, pp. 28, 29. (2) James' article on "What is an Emo- tion?" in Mind, April, 1884, p. 188 et seq. See also a criticism by Edmund Gurney, in Mitid, July, 1884, p. 421 et seq. (3) 3Ii7id, April, 1884, pp. 197, 198. (4) Bell's Anatomy and Philosophy of Expressio7i, p. 172. (5) Warner's Physical Expressio7i, pp. 201, 202, (6) Darwin's Expression of the Emotions, pp. 263, 264. (7) Id., p. 310. (8) For a well illustrated distinction between Wit and Humor, see E. P. Whipple's Literature and Life, p. 84 et seq. (9) Cole- ridge's Tahle Talk, p. 285. (10) Id. (11) Spencer's Illustrations of Universal Progress, p. 194. (12) Bain's The Emotions and the Will, pp. 247, 248. (13) Id., p. 251. (14) Sjjencer's Universal Progress, p. 256. (15) St. George Mivart's article on "Laughter," in The 280 PSTCHOLOOT. Forttm, July, 1887, p. 495. (16) Spencer's Universal Progress, p. 204. (17) For a short account of Esthetic Tlieories, see Day's Science of Esthetics, Chapter VII. (18) For detailed reasons for regarding Conscience as not a separate faculty, see Hopkins' The Law of Love, pp. Ill, 115; and Porter's Elements of Moral Science, pp. 244, 245. (19) Quatrefage's The Human Species, pp. 482, 483. (20) INIivart's Lessons from Nature, pp. 140, 141. (21) Morell's The Philosophy of Religion, p. 94. (22) Smyth's The Peligious Feeling, p. 34. (23) Brinton's The Religions Sentiment, p. 89. (24) The Gospel according to St. John, iv : 22, 24. (25) Midler's Science of Thought, I., p. 22. (26) Compayre's History of Pedagogy (Payne's Translation), p. 561. SECTION 11* DESIRE. 1. Nature of Desire. Desire (from tlie Latin desiderdre, to miss, to long for) is the sentiment of craving, impelling us to gain posses- sion of that which will afford satisfaction. It is an indi- cation of the self-insufficiency of our nature. Desire may be resolved into three elements : (1) consciousness of want, (2) consequent restlessness, and (3) longing for satisfac- tion. Desires are to elementary feelings what representa- tive knowledge is to presentative. The consciousness of want results from reproducing in the mind ideas associ- ated with an object that has the power of giving pleasure. If these ideas are not reproduced, desires do not arise. For example, a certain pleasure attends the possession and use of money. The idea of money is associated with its ability to afford pleasure ; hence, on the appearance of SENTIMENTS. 281 the idea, there arises an accompanying desire to possess and nse it. The opposite of Desire is Aversion (from the Latin a, from, and vertere, to turn), a feeling of loathing which arises from ideas associated with pain. The close connection between a representative idea and a desire is evident. We do not desire tliat of which there is no idea in our minds, although there is in us a general craving for change and for new experiences. But the moment anything is suggested with which pleasure is associated, a desire for it is created, if we are in a condi- tion to enjoy it. The actual perception of such an object also pro- duces a desire. It is, however, through representation that the de- sire is awakened; for, until the power of an object to give pleasure has been experienced, there is no desire for it. The child cares more for bright pennies than for bank-notes, because the coins afford him a kind of sensuous delight by their form, lustre, and metallic jingle. Later on, when he discovers that a bank-note has many times the purchasing-power of small coin, a desire for the notes is produced. Thus, universally, a desire proceeds from the association of pleasure with an object, and this is effected through the association of ideas. Even when our desires are excited through the persuasion of others, our representative ideas are appealed to as the grounds of the desire. The whole art of persuasion consists in awakening desires through such ideas. One wholly incapable of pleasure from anything would have no desires. He might, however, have aversions, if he were susceptible of pains. If capable of neither pleasure nor pain, he would be indifferent to everything. This condition is illustrated in those who through disease have lost the power of feeling. 2. Kinds of Desire. A precise distinction of the different kinds of Desire is difficult. The best practical classification is that which groups them in two main classes : (1) those having refer- ence to self alone, called Personal Desires ; and (2) those having reference to self in relation to other persons, and called Social Desires. •282 PSYCHOLOGY. Two antithetical terms have lately come into general use to indi- cate the opposite ideas of desires centring on self and desires centring on other persons. Egoism (from the Latin Ego, I) signifies selfish- ness, and Altruism (from tlie Latin alter, another) signifies interest in the welfare of others. In using the terms "personal desires " and *' social desires," it is not here intended to denote these opposite ideas marked by the terms " Egoism " and "Altruism." The terms " per- sonal" and "social" are employed to distinguish the desires which arise apart from other persons from those that arise in relation to other persons. Even the desires here called ' ' social " may be ego- istic, and the desires here called "personal" may be altruistic. A mother's ambition for her son, or a- friend's ambition for a friend, is altruistic. The character of a desire is not changed by the personal reference of it. The same desires may be egoistic or altruistic, ac- cording as they are entertained for one's own self, or, through sym- pathy, in behalf of another person. " Since we can interpret others' experience only by our own, a broad and intense ego-life is the con- dition of any full and deep social life. It is only in our own con- sciousness that the meaning and value of life and its experiences can be revealed ; and without the knowledge of these there can be no sympathy for others and no understanding of them. Selfishness does not consist in valuing ourselves, but in ignoring the equal claims and rights of others." * 3. Tlie Personal Desires. The forms of Desire having reference to self alone are as follows : (1) Desire of continued Existence, or Self-preservation. — The idea of personal destruction is disagreeable to most minds. The wish that one might cease to be, is never entertained, excej)t in abnormal states of mind or body, and may be regarded as an indication of disease or in- sanity. The desire to live, even in the discomforts of the present life, is almost universal. The desire of immor- tality is one of the strongest in the soul. The pessimist, who regards life as a burden, is rarely found ; and, when SENTUIENTS. 283 fonnd, the proposition to kill him usually cures him. Normal men are practical o]3timists ; and, though they may believe that life might be more agreeable than they find it, they value it sufficiently to cling to it hopefully, and strive to make it more desirable. If all men were really pessimists (from the Latin pessimus, the worst), quite hopeless of good, the human species would soon come to an end by voluntary self-destruction. But pessimism is merely occasional and temporary. It is largely a matter of passing mood. It has been well said that it rests entirely upon the crude fallacy of regarding the evil that is in one's self as evil inherent in the nature of the world. It is a malady that rarely affects any but the intensely selfish and conceited. It results from a diseased sub- jectivism of thought and feeling. This is historically demonstrable from the biographies of pessimists. The certain cure of it is a health- ful objective activity and especially a sympathetic exertion to dimin- ish the sufferings of other people. We thereby forget our own and lighten their sorrows, and, in the joy of an approving conscience and the gratitude of those whom we assist, discover a preponderance of happiness over misery. (2) Desire of Pleasure, or Self-indulgence. — Man has the power of generalizing his agreeable states into a con- cept of pleasure, and ends by making pleasure in general an object of desire. Ideas of pleasure differ widely, from that of the mere sensualist who finds his chief good in bodily sensations, to that of the philosopher who finds it in the pursuit of truth and the performance of duty. It is natural to man to seek such objects as give him inno- cent pleasure, and the desire for pleasure in some form is universal. Man deludes himself, however, in seeking pleasure in the abstract. In this form it does not exist. Therefore, by making pleasure an object of pursuit one never realizes it. 284 PSYCHOLOGY. A wise and experienced American teacher, Francis Wayland (1796-1865), has said: "Our desire for a particular object, and tlie existence of the object adapted to this desire, is in itself a reason why we should enjoy that object, in the same manner as our aversion to another object is a reason why we should avoid it. There may sometimes be, it is true, other reasons to the contrary, more authori- tative than that emanating from this desire or aversion, and these may and ought to control it ; but this does not show that this desire is not a reason, and a sufficient one, if no better reason can be shown to the contrary. . . . We find by experience that a desire or appe- tite may be so gratified as forever afterwards to destroy its power of producing happiness. Thus, a certain kind of food is pleasant to me ; this is a reason why I should partake of it. But I may eat of it to excess, so as to loathe it forever afterwards, and thus annihilate in my constitution this power of gratification. . . . Again, every man is created with various and dissimilar forms of desire, corre- spondent to the different external objects designed to promote his happiness. Now, it is found that one form of desire may be grati- fied in such manner as to destroy the power of receiving happiness from another; or, on the contrary, the first may be so gratified as to leave the other powers of receiving happiness unimpaired. . . . Hence, while it is the truth that human happiness consists in the gratification of our desires, it is not the whole truth. It consists in the gratification of our desires within the limits assigned to them hy our Creator.'''"^ (3) Desire of Knowledge, or Curiosity. — This is a power- ful desire, but varies in both form and intensity. In some individuals it is dominant, leading to the sacrifice of most other objects, as in the case of those investigators who are animated by a strong desire for truth in its scientific forms. In some it degenerates into a low inquisitiveness that is without interest in eternal truth, but finds satisfaction in the excitement and novelty of the most trivial gossip. Curiosity is the first spur of childhood in the pursuit of knowledge, and it is also the impulse that impels the philosopher to forego all other pleasures for the sake of discovering truth. It assumes, how- SENTIMENTS. 285 «ver, great modification witli the unfolding of the mind. In the child, doubtless, the pleasure of a novel sensation is a large element in curiosity. The tendency to investigate is manifested so early, however, that it seems an instinct in young children to obtahi and open and examine every new thing. The same disposition is mani- fested in apes and monkeys, but it ends with small results. In man this instinct combines with a rational nature, and he finds a satis- faction in the discovery of truth as such. This is the trait of scien- tific curiosity. But even this is intimately blended with other de- sires. The love of adventure, a desire for variety of experience, the expectation of fame, even the hope of pecuniary rewards, all combine with the pure and unselfish desire for truth in actuating men to undertake laborious investigations. All this is shown in the boasting of explorers, the vacillation of discoverers, the jealousy of writers, the litigation of inventors, and the controversial spirit that so often spoils scientific work. The consentient judgment of men awards high appreciation to a sincere devotion to truth for its own sake in which even this appreciation has not been a controlling motive. (4) Desire of Property, or Acquisitiveness, is a promi- nent desire in men. There is a keen satisfaction in ex- clusive proprietorship. Property, especially in the form of money, which is a kind of generalized form of wealth, is in a sense a generic good, inasmuch as there are few kinds of pleasure which it cannot obtain. Hence, men make great sacrifices in the acquisition of it, sometimes degrading themselves to obtain it, and sometimes only to find that in the process of acquisition they have destroyed the capacities of enjoyment. In the miser, acqiusitiveness degenerates into avarice. The miser is a psychological anomaly, and yet not difficult to explani. He be- gins with the idea of pleasure as an accompaniment of the use of money. He experiences a pleasure in jnere possession which, as af- fording the continual possihility of pleasure, at last comes to be the dominant pleasure itself. Every new augmentation of wealth in- 286 PSYCHOLOGY. creases this pleasure, but not in the same proportion, up to a certain point, but there it ceases. According to a psycho-physical law, a pro- gressively greater increment of excitation is required to increase in the same degree the amount of feeling. As a man with a single dollar feels more pleasure in adding to his possessions another dollar than a man worth a million does, so, universally, a greater and greater in- crement of gain is required with the increase of wealth to render one happy. Attending now mainly to the growth of his fortune, rather than to the amount or use of it, the miser actually feels poorer as he becomes richer ! Thus his happiness is turned into misery, and his very name denotes his wretchedness. For this there is but one cure, the normal use of wealth as a means for its natural end,— the increase of life and happiness. (5) Desire of Power, or Ambition. — There is a certain satisfaction found in the possession of power, that leads men to desire it. Position, or place, sometimes affords men an opportunity to acquire and exercise power, and, for this reason, becomes an object of desire. The word ''Ambition'' is from the Latin amhitio, a going around, especially of candidates for orffice in Eome, to solicit votes ; hence U has some to signify a desire for office or honor. 4. The Social Desires. The principal desires arising through our relation to other persons are : (1) Desire of Companionship, or Sociability.— Man is a social being. In truth, it is because of his existence in society that he is man. The individual, left to himself, in infancy, would perish ; in mature life, would degen- erate. Most of the comforts of life and all of its refine- ments are afforded by the social state. The instrument of thought, language, is a social product. The faculties are stimulated and directed by contact with other minds. SENTIMENTS. 287 Society is the sphere in wliich the affections have their origin. The hermit soon reverts to an animal plane of life. Hence, in all normal minds, there is a strong desire for the social medium, which is to the mind what air and food are to the body. ''Man is naturally selfish, and naturally social and sympathetic. There is provision in our nature both for selfishness and for society and mutual help. The whim that the natural state of man is the war of all against all was the conclusion of a theory rather than the expression of experience. Man seeks man and delights in man far more than man wars upon man. This primal man who reasoned himself into society is a near relative of the men who emerged from inhuman isolation and made the social contract which figured so largely in the political philosophy of the last century. The real function of the various considerations of interest and mutual advan- tage which are appealed to, has not been to develop the social senti- ments, but to extend their application beyond narrow family or ■Sribal limits."^ (2) Desire of Imitation, or Imitativeness. — Man is an imitative being, finding great satisfaction in doing what others do. This desire is always manifested in children, and is an important factor of their education. The power of public opinion, custom, and fashion, is an evidence of the prevalence of this desire among men. The tendency to imitate is deeply ingrained in human nature. It has a physiological foundation. There is an organic sympathy in the different parts of the nervous system, so that when one part is affected all are indirectly influenced. This extends beyond the organism. The sight of a ghastly wound is painful. Ideas react upon the organism. This is particuhxrly true of the imitation of motions. The smile or yawn of another tends to excite imitation in us. Children respond to the sounds made by animals, and mimic the cries of cats, dogs, and sheep. This is the basis on which artic- ulate language is first acquired. The child imitates the sounds of 288 PSYCHOLOGY. others about it and learns the kind of language that is spoken in itfl presence. We all try to imitate those whom we consider superior. The superficial peculiarities and accidental traits of great orators and writers are more easily acquired than their native intellectual or emotional power, and it is the former which the young admirer is most likely to reproduce. The power of fashion depends largely upon the desire to appear like those who occupy an exalted position in our eyes. The most absurd extravagances appear even beautiful when associated with wealth, or beauty, or supposed culture. Un- derlying this, there is a plausible philosophy. We think that people who can do what they will, would not do this particular thing if it were not the best. Therefore, we do as others do. (3) Desire of Esteem, or Apppobatlveness. — Men are largely influenced by the opinions of others concerning them. The respect of our fellows is a natural object of desire^ and results in the develoj)ment of some of the noblest elements in human character. The consentient opinions of the wise and good form a valuable criterion of conduct. We easily make the mistake of regarding also the opinions of the foolish and vicious. As mere ojoinion does not contain a rule of judgment, we must seek it else- where. The sacrifices men make for the sake of a good reputation show that it is considered one of the dearest of earthly possessions. Perhaps there is no stronger desire in men than the desire of fame. It is not a desire of territory but of glory that stimulates the soldier to endure the hardships and face the dangers of war. Man is the only earthly being capable of the desire of posthumous fame, or glory after death. It seems impossible to account for this wide- spread and intense human desire except upon the supposition that men instinctively believe in their own immortal existence. Like all the other desires, the desire for esteem easily assumes abnormal forms, and perhaps the most ridiculous of these is the desire of no- toriety, apart from the estimate put upon it in the public conscious- SENTUIENTS. 289 ness. But mere notoriety serves so many purposes, some of them purely sordid, that the desire for it is not difficult to understand. (4) Desire of Superiority, or Emulation.— This is closcl}' allied to Ambition, but differs from it in being a desire for relative rather than absolute attainment. It is a powerful motive to action, urging on the naturally indolent, but also over-stimulating the industrious. It is often attended with great excitement, and so becomes one of the most dangerous principles in our nature. 5. Desire and Will. Desire arises spontaneously in consciousness when ideas associated with pleasure are presented. It is an involun- tary accompaniment of mental activity. And yet the de- sires are indirectly under the control of the Will. It is upon this assumption alone that desires can have any rela- tion to morality. Such a relation they certainly have, for we distinguish between what ought and what ought not to be desired. We control our desires only by a voluntary withdrawal of the attention from those ideas which excite them and by refusing to grant them indulgence when excited. 6. Desire and Education. Desire has even a closer relation to education than Emo- tion, for the desires constitute the principal incentives to action. As in the case of the appetites, so in that of the emotions, there is a perpetual battle between self-indul- gence in present pleasures, on the one hand, and such de- sires as those of knowledge, power, esteem, and superiority, on the other. The growth of the desires soon results iu 290 PSYCHOLOGY. the formation of one of two types of character, — the self- satisfied or the ambitious. The first needs to be stimu- lated along the path of activity, the second often requires to be repressed. The great disadvantage of all competi- tive methods is, that the dull and unaspiring minds are not reached by them, while the ambitious, who often need repression more than stimulation, are spurred on to un- healthful activity and a still more unhealthful feeling either of envy and hatred, if they are unsuccessful, or of pride and contempt for others, if they are successful. We shall limit our discussion to (1) the educational use of the desires, and (2) the regulation of the desires. (1) The Educational Use of the Desires. — The whole process of education assumes the existence of certain na- tive impulses which respond to stimulation. The native curiosity of a child affords the teacher some hope of being able to attract his attention and engage his interest. Every wise teacher begins a new subject by establishing a relation between the child^s native curiosity and the facts and prin- ciples to be disclosed, unless it can be already assumed to exist. The chief difficulty is not in obtaining, but in holding, the attention ; for a thousand irrelevant desires come into conflict with the chikFs interest in what is j^re- sented. Here other desires must be utilized, such as de- sire of imitation, approbation, and emulation. The aver- sions, or negative desires, have their place also ; as the aversion to pain in every form, to the inability to do as others do, to disapprobation, and to the sense of inferi- ority. In the use of desires and aversions there is wide scope for the teacher^s personal ingenuity and tact ; for, owing to the great variation of temperaments, no uniform method is universally good. SENTIMENTS. 291 (2) The Regulation of the Desires. — Like the appetites, the desires must be governed, and made to conform to reason. Their regulation cannot be accomplished by their destruction ; for this is next to impossible, and in the case of the natural desires, would result in a serious mutilation of the nature ; but they may be made to balance one an- other, and so produce an equilibrium of character. It is this harmonious balance of desires that constitutes the ideal man. The total eradication of the desires, even of those we call ^^ selfish,"^ would result in a serious injury. Not to desire existence, pleasure, knowledge, property, or power, — would be to become 2:)essimistic, ascetic, ignorant, improvident and servile. Not to desire society, con- formity to others, approval, or superiority, — would be to become isolated, eccentric, despicable and inferior. True Altruism is not found in destroying our natural desires, and true Egoism does not consist in the gratification of them. The highest humanity is reached when the de- sires are moderated and transfused with reason, and when the equal claims of others to the same reasonable gratifi- cation of their desires also is unselfishly recognized. The relative values of private and class instruction, the proper mode of stimulating ambition and of employing emulation, and the utUity of various systems of marking the work of learners, are closely associated with the psychology of the desires. Private in- struction has the advantage of affording more opportunity for per- sonal acquaintance with the student and specific comprehension of ■his needs ; while class instruction has the advantages that come from greater enthusiasm, the imitation by the backward of those in ad- vance, of competition among the pupils for preeminence and for the teacher's approval. The danger of emulation has been already pointed out. Some of its impulses may be obtained without its intense personal effects by matching one class with another and not 292 PSYCHOLOGY. allowing individual superiority to count. This method creates g strong desire for distinction, which is, nevertheless, largely sympa- thetic and altruistic, as it is shared by all. It is difficult to see any objection to fixing a standard to which all must attain, in order to be passed to higher study. Although there are intrinsic difficulties in representing this standard by a fixed number, there seems to be no valid objection to a teacher's employing such a sign, for he must in some way fix this standard in his mind. The keeping of a daily record is far more likely to secure justice than a single mark de- pendent upon the contingencies of a single examination. The main objection to a " marking-system " seems to be to its relative dis- criminations, not to its absolute nature. The motive of the learner, all will admit, should be to acquire knowledge, not to secure a high mark; but any objection that lies against marking the student's at- tainments might equally well lie against the teacher's mere announce- ment that the student is promoted. The mark and the announce- ment mean the same, — that the student may go on with higher work. It is the odious comx>arison involved in published gradea that produces evil effects. Ill this section, on "Desire," we have considered: 1, The Nature of Desire, 2, Kinds of Desire, 3, The Personal Desires, 4, The Social Desires, 5, Desire and Will, 6, Desire and Education, References : (1) Bownc's Introduction to Psychological Theory, p. 195. (2) Wayland's Moral Science, pp. 101, 103. (3) Bowne's Introduction, p. Id6. SENTUIENTS. 293 SECTION in. AFFECTION. 1. Natvire of Aflfection. Affection (from the Latin ad, to, and facere, to make) is a form of sentiment implying a making toward, or go- ing out to, an obiect. Like Desire, it has an object out- side of self ; but, unlike Desire, it reveals a fullness, not an emptiness, of our nature. It may be resolved into (1) a consciousness of benevolent or malevolent feeling, (2) generated by the idea of a definite object, (3) toward which the feeling is directed. For example, take a mother's Affection for her child. It is not simply an Emotion, for it has a definite external object. It is not simply a Desire, though it may be blended v/ith desires, for it is not so much a craving for the child as it is a full- ness of feeling going out toward the child. Its distin- guishing characteristic is that it is a particular sentiment directed toward a definite object. All deep and abiding affection is of slow growth. It resembles the process of generalization in the formation of a concept. It re- sults from a repeated experience of one kind of feeling caused by