-J
 
 NEW PSYCHOLOGY 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN P. GORDY, PH.D., LL.D. 
 
 HEAD OF THE PEDAGOGICAL DEPARTMENT OF THE OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY 
 
 Copyright, 1898, by Hinds (y Noble 
 
 HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers 
 4-5-13-14 COOPER INSTITUTE, NEW YORK CITY
 
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 PREFACE. 
 
 THAT the most effective teaching is impossible without 
 an acquaintance with the elementary principles of Psy- 
 chology, is no longer a debated question. Fortunately 
 there are many who are "born teachers." Even they are 
 more successful when to a " certain instinct for teaching " 
 they have added a knowledge of Psychology. Still more 
 helpful to a genuine success is a knowledge of the Mind 
 to the plodding rank and file, that large body of earnest 
 men and women teachers whose really splendid equipment 
 for their profession is to be credited to unremitting hard 
 work inspired by an honest ambition to win success, and a 
 sturdy determination to avail themselves of every approved 
 resource. 
 
 This book has been written principally for the special 
 benefit of that large number of progressive young teachers 
 who have not enjoyed the benefits of a college education, 
 but who nevertheless are striving without the aid of an 
 instructor to make their work rational and therefore more 
 efficient by basing it on a knowledge of the Mind. The 
 division of the subject matter into " Lessons," while ad- 
 mirably adapting the book to the special requirements of 
 teachers' reading circles, was particularly intended by the 
 author to supply the need of a practicable text-book for 
 
 iii 
 
 2210827
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 classes in Psychology. Having embodied in these pages 
 the experience of many years in teaching Psychology not 
 only to teachers but also to pupils in the schools, the 
 author believes that he has provided a c/assbook that the 
 teacher may place with confidence in the hands of his 
 pupils, and the superintendent or Normal School instructor 
 in the hands of his training classes. It is hoped that the 
 " (Juestions" following each Lesson will enhance its help- 
 fulness both to the teacher and the student. 
 
 The author ventures to hope that the emphasis laid 
 upon the limitations of Physiological Psychology and upon 
 education as a preparation for rational living ; above all, 
 that his constant effort to keep the essential difficulties of 
 the subject in such full view as to prevent the student from 
 mistaking his easy mastery of this elementary book for a 
 real mastery of the science of which the book treats are 
 essential features which will be commended. 
 
 The object of the author throughout has been to call 
 the attention of his readers to important mental facts in 
 such a way as to set them to observing their own minds 
 and the minds of their pupils, in order to see for them- 
 selves the usefulness of the facts and the experience so 
 gained, their application to the daily work of teaching, and 
 their inestimable value as an added factor toward success. 
 Profoundly convinced as he is of the importance of a 
 knowledge of Psychology to the teacher, he is quite as 
 strongly convinced that the only really fruitful knowledge 
 of Psychology which the teacher will ever gain, he will 
 derive from a study of his own mind and the minds of the 
 people with whom he comes in contact, and that books 
 about Psychology are useful chiefly as they give sugges- 
 tions in this direction. In other words, the aim of the
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 author has been to act the part of a guide in a strange 
 city> to tell his readers where to look to find valuable 
 truths. If he succeeds in stimulating them to become 
 diligent students of their own minds and the minds of 
 their pupils, he will be more than satisfied. 
 
 The author wishes to make acknowledgment to his col- 
 leagues, Dr. Bleile and Mr. Wissler, for suggestions relating 
 to the chapters on Physiological Psychology. 
 
 J. P. G. 
 
 OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY, 
 
 COLUMBUS, OHIO, Feb. 8, 1898.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSON I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER i 
 
 LESSON II. 
 THE BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER continued 8 
 
 LESSON III. 
 BODY AND MIND . . . . . . . . .16 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM ..... 25 
 
 ' LESSON V. 
 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM ... 41 
 
 LESSON VI. 
 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM 53 
 
 LESSON VII. 
 WHAT is PSYCHOLOGY? 65 
 
 LESSON VIII. 
 
 THE SUBJECT MATTER OF PSYCHOLOGY .... 72 
 
 vii 

 
 v jji CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSON IX. PAGE 
 
 77 
 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY . 
 
 LESSON X. 
 
 N, , KSSARY TRUTHS AND NECESSARY BELIEFS ... 86 
 
 LESSON XI. 
 
 94 
 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? . 
 
 LESSON XII. 
 
 . 103 
 ATTENTION 
 
 LESSON XIII. 
 
 . no 
 
 ATTENTION continued 
 
 LESSON XIV. 
 
 .. . 118 
 
 ATTENTION continued 
 
 LESSON XV. 
 ATTENTION continued ! 3 
 
 LESSON XVI. 
 ATTENTION continued . . . H 2 
 
 LESSON XVII. 
 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING *5 2 
 
 LESSON XVIII. 
 SENSATION 1 3 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 SKNSATION continued J 73 
 
 LESSON XX. 
 THE LAW OF HABIT 183
 
 CONTENTS. IX 
 
 LESSON XXI. 
 ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 196 
 
 LESSON XXII. 
 PERCEPTION 208 
 
 LESSON XXIII. 
 
 PERCEPTION continued . . . . . . -215 
 
 LESSON XXIV. 
 PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION 224 
 
 LESSON XXV. 
 MEMORY 234 
 
 LESSON XXVI. 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY 242 
 
 LESSON XXVII. 
 IMAGINATION 255 
 
 LESSON XXVIII. 
 IMAGINATION continued 263 
 
 LESSON XXIX. 
 CONCEPTION 273 
 
 LESSON XXX. 
 CONCEPTION continued 281 
 
 LESSON XXXI. 
 CONCEPTION continued 288 
 
 LESSON XXXII. 
 CONCEPTION continued 296
 
 x CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSON XXXIII. PAGB 
 
 . 305 
 JUDGMENT 
 
 LESSON XXXIV. 
 JUDGMENT continued 3 12 
 
 LESSON XXXV. 
 REASONING 32 
 
 LESSON XXXVI. 
 KI.ASOMNG continued 3 2 9 
 
 LESSON XXXVII. 
 REASONING continued 339 
 
 LESSON XXXVIII. 
 APPERCEPTION . 346 
 
 LESSON XXXIX. 
 APPERCEPTION continued 354 
 
 LESSON XL. 
 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT 364 
 
 LESSON XLI. 
 THE END OK EDUCATION 373 
 
 LESSON XLII. 
 THK STUDY OK INDIVIDUALS 384 
 
 Ai-rixnix A, B 394 
 
 INDEX 395
 
 GORDY'S NEW PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 LESSON I. 
 
 THE BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER. 
 
 WE all believe that it is worth while to study a great 
 many things of which we do not expect to make any practi- 
 cal use. You believe, for example, that it is a good thing to 
 study algebra and geometry, not because you think the 
 knowledge of them is likely to be useful to you unless 
 you should be called upon to teach them but because 
 you think the study of them will develop your mind. 
 
 Reasons for Studying Psychology. Probably that is 
 one of the reasons why you wish to study Psychology. 
 And it certainly is a good reason for studying it. Few 
 subjects are better calculated to develop the power of 
 thinking than Psychology. You know that the way to 
 develop any power of the mind is to use it, and it is quite 
 impossible to make any headway in studying Psychology 
 without thinking. That is the reason why it is so hard, 
 
 Develops Power of Thought. When any one makes 
 an assertion about your mind and that is what human
 
 2 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 Psychology consists of, assertions about your mind and the 
 minds of all human beings it is often, indeed generally, 
 impossible to realize what it means without thinking. Thus, 
 suppose I say that a mental fact is known directly to but 
 one person, and that one the person experiencing it. In 
 order to realize what that means, you have to look into 
 your own mind for an example of a mental fact. You 
 recall the oft-repeated assertion, no one knows what any 
 one thinks but himself, and you realize that a thought is 
 a mental fact known to but one person directly, and that 
 one the person experiencing it. But in order to know 
 what other facts are mental facts, you must think long 
 and carefully, until you have made up your mind just what 
 facts are known to but one person directly, and that one 
 the person experiencing them. 
 
 Even when you can understand an assertion that any 
 one makes about your mind without looking into your own 
 mind, it is generally necessary for you to do so before you 
 can decide intelligently whether or not it is true. If any 
 one says that you can not get the continuous attention of 
 your pupils without asking questions, or without giving 
 them some other motive for attending besides interest, 
 that statement can be understood without special effort. 
 But in order to determine whether or not it is true, you 
 must look into your own wind. You must ask yourself 
 whether any one can keep your attention for a half or 
 three-quarters of an hour simply by being interesting. If 
 you set about answering it in the right way, you will think 
 until you recall some speaker who never asked you ques- 
 tions, or did anything except try to interest you to keep 
 your attention, but who was interesting ; then I am sure 
 you will remember that when he was -speaking your mind
 
 PRACTICAL REASONS. 3 
 
 wandered much more than it would have done if you had 
 known that, when he had finished, he would question you 
 about what he was saying. You will remember that you 
 often allowed your mind to dwell on interesting points that 
 he raised, to the exclusion of what he said directly after. 
 
 For these two reasons (i) because you can not under- 
 stand most of the assertions in Psychology without think- 
 ing ; and (2) because, even when you understand them, 
 you can not tell without thinking whether or not they 
 are true I know of no subject better calculated to make 
 a pupil think, and therefore better fitted to develop the 
 power of thinking, than Psychology. 
 
 Practical Reasons. But apart from this, you wish to 
 study Psychology for quite practical reasons. As a man 
 who intends to be a surveyor studies trigonometry, not 
 merely because it will develop his mind, but because of 
 the use it will be to him, so you study Psychology because 
 you think the knowledge of it will make you a better 
 
 teacher. 
 
 
 
 Nature of Teaching. How will it help you in this 
 direction ? Before you can answer this question, you 
 must answer another. What is teaching ? People used 
 to intimate what they thought of this by saying that a 
 teacher "keeps school." But "keeping school" is not 
 teaching. Nor is it to teach to hear recitations. To teach 
 is to deal with mind is to get it to DO something which 
 it would not have done apart from the teacher, in order 
 to get it to BECOME something which it would not have 
 become apart from him. 
 
 In order to do this intelligently, you plainly need to
 
 4 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 have as clear an idea as possible of what you wish your 
 pupils to become. If your pupils were everything that 
 you wish them to become, you would not undertake to 
 teach them. What is it that you wish them to become ? 
 In what respect do you wish them to change as the result 
 of your teaching ? That question, the study of Psychology 
 will help you to answer ; and the more you know about 
 Psychology, the more clearly and fully and definitely you 
 can answer it. 
 
 Meaning of Development. Quite likely you think you 
 can answer it now. You say you wish your pupils to have 
 better developed minds at the end of each day than they 
 had at the beginning. But better developed in what 
 direction ? The North American Indians had remarkable 
 powers of observation. They could track an enemy through 
 a forest where you could see no trace of a human being. 
 Will you be content to have your pupils acquire powers 
 similar to those possessed by the North American Indians ? 
 Is this what you wish them to become ? The Chinese 
 have remarkable memories. Many educated Chinamen 
 remember almost word for word the nine classics compiled 
 and edited by Confucius. Do you want your pupils to 
 have minds like the Chinese ? 
 
 I do not, of course, mean to imply that you should not 
 aim to cultivate the observing powers of your pupils as 
 well as their memories. But the North American Indians 
 developed their powers of observation at the expense of 
 the higher powers of their minds, and the Chinese their 
 mechanical memory in the same costly way. And yet 
 the Chinese aim at development. It is evident, there- 
 fore, that when one says that the object of education
 
 NECESSITY OF A DEFINITE AIM. 5 
 
 is development, he has not expressed a very definite idea. 
 The question is, What kind of development? and that 
 question Psychology will help us answer. 
 
 Necessity of a Definite Aim. So you see that when 
 you say you want to help your pupils develop their minds, 
 you have by no means proved that you know precisely 
 what, as an intelligent teacher, you ought to aim at. And 
 unless we know what to aim at, we can not hope to have 
 success. Do you think an architect could build a beauti- 
 ful house if he began to build it and worked at it from 
 day to day without having in his mind, so to speak, the 
 house he was trying to build ? Well, if a carpenter must 
 have a picture in his mind of the kind of house he wishes 
 to build in order to build it, how can we hope to succeed 
 in moulding and forming the minds of our pupils in an 
 intelligent way, unless we have the clearest ideas of what 
 we wish them to become ? 
 
 Need of a Criterion of Knowledge. But at any rate, 
 perhaps you think you are clear as to one thing in which 
 you wish your pupils to change ; you wish them to become 
 less ignorant you wish them to know more. But to 
 know more of what ? We have not got. very far when we 
 say that we wish to help our pupils to acquire knowledge, 
 unless we have made up our minds as to what knowledge 
 is worth acquiring. There is a good deal of history in the 
 text-books which is not worth learning, and a good deal 
 out of them which is in the highest degree important, and 
 the same is true of the other subjects we teach. How are 
 we to make up our minds what knowledge is worth acquir- 
 ing ? The study of Psychology will help us do that. It
 
 6 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 will help us see the effect which the acquiring of this or 
 that piece of knowledge will have on the mind, and in this 
 way enable us to estimate its worth. 
 
 Here again it is evident that it is quite impossible to 
 succeed in teaching unless in some way we are able to 
 decide intelligently what we ought to get our pupils to 
 learn. Until we are able to decide that, we can, in the 
 first place, aim only to get them to learn everything in the 
 text-book. This is bad for two reasons : in the first place, 
 text-books are sometimes written by men who know so 
 little of the subject that they can not tell what is important 
 and what is not important ; and in the second place, intel- 
 ligent men put many things in text-books, not that students 
 may learn them, but that they may be able to refer to 
 them if they have occasion to use them. No one but a 
 fool would commit to memory a railroad guide. And yet 
 railroad guides are very useful; but when any one has 
 occasion for them, he goes to them. He remembers what 
 he finds there just as long as he wants it, and then does 
 not trouble his head with it any longer. Now, intelligent 
 men put many such facts in the books they write facts 
 which they do not expect any one to learn, but to which 
 they think persons may sometimes have occasion to refer. 
 For these two reasons, it is very unfortunate for a teacher 
 to have to rely entirely upon his text-books in deciding 
 what to teach. 
 
 The study of Psychology, then, will help us see what we 
 ought to aim at. It will help us see the kind of develop- 
 ment we ought to try to help them get, and the kind of 
 knowledge we ought to try to impart.
 
 QUESTIONS. 7 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What are the two reasons for studying Psychology? 
 
 2. How is any power of the mind developed? 
 
 3. What are the two reasons which make the study of Psychology 
 so useful in developing the power to think? 
 
 4. What is teaching? 
 
 5. Give two illustrations to show that when you say you wish 
 your pupils to have better developed minds, your statement lacks 
 clearness. 
 
 6. Show that you can not succeed as a teacher unless you know 
 what to aim at. 
 
 7. Show that when you say you wish to make your pupils less 
 ignorant, your statement lacks clearness. 
 
 8. How will the study of Psychology help you in this direction? 
 
 9. Why should not a teacher limit himself to teaching what is in 
 the text-books ? 
 
 10. What is the central thought which this lesson aims to bring 
 out? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Which do you regard as the more important service rendered 
 by the study of Psychology to the teacher increasing his power to 
 think, or expanding his knowledge of the conditions under which 
 the mind acts ? 
 
 2. One writer speaks of a certain kind of memory as the "index" 
 memory, and another of another kind as the " mechanical " memory. 
 Can you get from this lesson any idea of what they are? 
 
 3. Do you believe that it is possible to train the powers of obser- 
 vation in general, i.e., to train them in such a way that their pos- 
 sessor will be a good observer of any kind of facts ?
 
 LESSON II. 
 
 THK KKNKFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER. 
 (Continued.) 
 
 Conditions of Success. To succeed well in any diffi- 
 cult undertaking, three things are necessary: (i) one 
 must see clearly the thing to be done ; (2) he must have 
 a clear idea of the best means of doing it ; and (3) he 
 must have a strong motive for doing it well. He in whom 
 these conditions meet most perfectly who sees most 
 clearly the thing to be done, who has the clearest percep- 
 tion of the best means of doing it, who has the strongest 
 motive for making strenuous efforts to do it is the per- 
 son most likely to succeed in any difficult undertaking. 
 
 The study of Psychology can not be urged on the 
 ground that it is likely to do much toward making the 
 u-acher interested in his work, and more willing, therefore, 
 to work hard in order to do it well. It is not, indeed, 
 without effect in this direction. The work of teachers 
 who make no study of mind is likely to be mechanical, 
 while the work of teachers who base their efforts on a 
 knowledge of mind is rational. And mechanical work is 
 uninteresting, unattractive fit only for machines. Any- 
 thing, therefore, which tends to make a teacher's work 
 rational certainly tends to make it interesting. This was 
 what Fitch meant when he called teaching the noblest of 
 arts and the sorriest of trades. Practiced mechanically,
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND TEACHING. 9 
 
 it is indeed a trade, and a sorry one at that ; practiced 
 rationally practiced by one who realizes that he is deal- 
 ing with mind, and who uses this method or that, not 
 because some one else has used it, but because his knowl- 
 edge of mind leads him to believe that a given method is 
 the best teaching is the noblest of arts. 
 
 Psychology and Teaching. But while the study of 
 Psychology is of some benefit to the teacher in that it 
 tends to give him more interest in his work, I do not urge 
 it on this ground. It is for the other two reasons, ( i ) be- 
 cause of the clearness which it is fitted to give to the aim of 
 the intelligent teacher, and (2) because of the light it throws 
 on the best methods of realizing that aim, that I believe 
 no teacher who is ambitious to succeed should neglect to 
 study those phases of Psychology that bear on education. 
 
 In the last lesson I tried to show what the study of 
 Psychology can do for us in the first direction. I tried to 
 show that when we are able to say that our aim is to bring 
 about the development of our pupils, we have not got very 
 far unless we have made up our minds as to the value, so 
 to speak, of the various faculties of the mind that unless 
 we know the worth of the observing powers, and of the 
 various kinds of memory, imagination, and reasoning, we 
 can not proceed intelligently in training them. In like 
 manner, unless we have made up our minds as to " what 
 knowledge is of most worth," I tried to show that it is of 
 little use to be able to say that we wish to induce our 
 pupils to acquire knowledge. I tried further to show that 
 Psychology, by helping us discover the relation of the 
 various powers of the mind to each other, will help us 
 determine the kind of development we ought to aim at ;
 
 I0 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 and also, that by helping us see the effect of the various 
 kinds of knowledge upon the mind, it will help us decide 
 "what knowledge is of most worth." 
 
 But not only will the study of Psychology tend to give 
 clearness and definiteness to our aim, it will tend quite as 
 strongly to show what we must do to realize that aim. 
 
 Methods Used in Dealing with Objects in the Mate- 
 rial World. In dealing with mind we must use the same 
 kinds of methods which we use when we deal with objects 
 in the material world. What we accomplish in the mate- 
 rial world we accomplish by putting objects where they 
 will be subject to new influences, so that the forces of 
 nature may do the work we wish to have done. Mortar 
 in one place and bricks in another do nothing to make the 
 walls of a house, but place the bricks on a strong founda- 
 tion, and put the mortar between them, and you have a 
 strong wall. All you have done, you will note, is to move 
 the bricks and mortar so as to put them in new positions 
 and make them subject to new influences, so that the 
 forces of nature may do the desired work. Heat water 
 to the boiling-point, and it will change into steam ; and if 
 you leave it where it can escape, nothing will come of it. 
 But move the water into a confined place, so that the 
 steam can not escape, and then you can make it drive 
 immense palaces across the sea, or pull huge trains across 
 the continent. Every invention which has ever been made 
 is simply a way of moving things into new positions where 
 they are subject to new influences, so that the forces of 
 nature may do the desired work. All the force that is 
 employed in nature exists in nature. All that man 
 accomplishes he accomplishes by making the forces of
 
 METHODS IN DEALING WITH THE MIND. I I 
 
 nature worfc under different circumstances, and by turn- 
 ing them into different channels from those in which they 
 wotild have worked apart from him. It is by making 
 nature our servant that we have made such wonderful 
 progress in material civilization in the nineteenth century. 
 How is it that we have been able to make nature work for 
 us in such wonderful ways ? Simply by knowing the laws 
 of nature. Knowing the laws of nature, we have been 
 able, so to speak, to foresee what she would do under cer- 
 tain circumstances, and the result is the steam-engine, the 
 telegraph, the telephone, the phonograph, and all the other 
 inventions which minister to our well-being. 
 
 Methods to be Used in Dealing with the Mind. In 
 
 dealing with mind we must work in the same way. As 
 everything which happens in nature is due to the laws of 
 nature, so everything which happens in mind is due to the 
 laws of mind. As our power in nature depends upon the 
 skill with which we get her to work for us, so our power 
 in dealing with mind depends upon our ability to get it so 
 to act that the results we desire will follow. As success 
 in dealing with nature consists in supplying the conditions 
 which make it possible for nature to do the desired work, 
 so success in dealing with the mind consists in supplying 
 the conditions which make it possible for the mind to do 
 the work we want it to do. And as the better we know the 
 laws of nature (in other words, the better we know the con- 
 ditions under which nature will produce this or that result) 
 the better we can supply those conditions ; so the better 
 we know the laws of the mind (in other words, the better 
 we know the conditions under which the mind will do this 
 or that, the better we can supply these conditions. The
 
 12 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 aim of the teacher being a certain kind of development, 
 and the communication of a certain kind of knowledge, 
 evidently the more he knows of the conditions under 
 which the mind develops, and the conditions under which 
 it acquires knowledge, the better he can supply them. 
 
 Difference in this Respect between Natural Agent 
 and the Mind. " But is there no difference," you may 
 ask, "between a natural agent and the human mind in 
 this regard ? May we say of the human mind, as we may 
 of a natural agent, that it will always do all the work it 
 can under the given condition ? " There is an important 
 difference, but it makes for rather than against the skillful 
 teacher. A natural agent can not be flattered, bribed, or 
 cajoled ; it takes no account of intentions or motives. In 
 dealing with a natural agent, the one single, simple, all- 
 determining question is, Are the conditions fulfilled ? If 
 they are fulfilled, the effect will follow ; if they are not 
 fulfilled, the effect will not follow. But the case is dif- 
 ferent with the human mind. When we have put the 
 mind under the right influences, it has a natural tendency 
 to the kind of activity we wish to occasion ; but this ten- 
 dency may be increased or diminished by purely personal 
 relations. A teacher who adapts the subject of instruction 
 to the mental condition of his pupil creates a tendency in 
 the mind of his pupil to follow his instruction with interest. 
 But if by impatience, ill-humor, or sarcastic remarks the 
 teacher has excited the antagonism of the pupil, the pupil 
 resists the tendency ; he is unwilling to do what he knows 
 his teacher desires. If, on the other hand, the teacher by 
 patience and industry and kindness has gained the regard 
 of his pupil, the pupil exerts himself to attend to the sub-
 
 WHY PUPILS DO NOT LEARN. 13 
 
 ject. In this way it happens that personal qualities may 
 atone, to some extent, for lack of skill on the part of the 
 teacher. 
 
 Do you ask if a corresponding increase in the teacher's 
 knowledge of mind, and a corresponding increase in his 
 skill in basing his work on that knowledge would enable 
 him to work such miracles in the minds of his pupils as 
 inventors have worked in nature through their knowledge 
 of the laws of nature ? I can not, of course, answer such 
 a question. No one can. But in the School of the Far-off 
 Future' when no teacher will be allowed to enter a 
 school-room who has not made a thorough study of educa- 
 tional Psychology, and who has not proved to the entire 
 satisfaction of competent judges his ability to apply what 
 he has learned in that school there will be no dull, list- 
 less, inattentive pupils. There will be no boys who leave 
 school because they do not like it. There will be no 
 pupils who hate books. 
 
 Why Pupils do not Learn. As a child learns not 
 only rapidly but with intense pleasure from the time of his 
 birth to the time he starts to school simply because the 
 activities in which he spontaneously engages are fitted to 
 his state of development, so he will continue to learn 
 rapidly and with intense pleasure after he starts to school 
 if the work he is set to doing is adapted to his state of 
 development. 
 
 Answer of Comenius. Do you know who Comenius 
 was ? It was he who said that if our pupils do not learn it 
 is our fault. And he was undoubtedly right. If we supplied 
 the proper conditions, our pupils would as certainly learn
 
 I4 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 as a train will move when the engineer turns on the 
 steam. 
 
 Answer of Pestalozzi. Do you know who Pestalozzi 
 was ? It was he who said that if pupils are inattentive the 
 teacher should first look to himself for the reason. He 
 also was undoubtedly right. As certainly as a blade of 
 com will grow and mature if it is treated right if the 
 proper conditions are supplied so certainly will our 
 pupils attend, and think as the result of attending, and 
 develop as the result of thinking, if we supply the proper 
 conditions. 
 
 Can Conditions of Learning Always be Supplied ? 
 " If we supply the proper conditions." It is but truth to 
 say that that sometimes is beyond our power under the 
 circumstances in which we are obliged to work. Some 
 pupils have so little capacity for a subject that to supply 
 the proper conditions would require an amount of atten- 
 tion which the teacher can not possibly give them. It is 
 doubtful also if there are not cases in which there is so 
 little capacity for a subject as to make it a waste of time 
 for the pupil to attempt to study it. A case came under 
 my own observation of a boy who would spend jive hoiirs 
 on a spelling lesson, and still miss nine words out of ten. 
 I am strongly inclined to the opinion that spelling was an 
 accomplishment which he could not afford to acquire. 
 (.SVr Appendix A.)
 
 QUESTIONS. 15 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What three things are essential to success in a difficult under- 
 taking ? 
 
 2. What can the study of Psychology do to make a teacher inter- 
 ested in his work ? 
 
 3. What did Fitch say about teaching, and what did he mean 
 by it ? 
 
 4. How will the study of Psychology help a teacher to see at what 
 he should aim ? 
 
 5. How do men accomplish anything in nature ? 
 
 6. Illustrate your statement. 
 
 7. Show that the same thing is true in our dealings with mind. 
 
 8. Do you believe that teachers could accomplish as wonderful 
 results in dealing with the minds of their pupils as inventors have 
 accomplished in dealing with nature, if they knew as much about 
 mind ? 
 
 9. Why do so many pupils dislike the work of school ? 
 
 10. What did Comenius say is the reason our pupils do not learn? 
 
 11. Is there anything in our system of classification which increases 
 the difficulty of adapting our work to individual pupils so as to make 
 it pleasant to them ? 
 
 12. What can be done to obviate this ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1 . Who is Fitch ? 
 
 2. What book on education has he written ? 
 
 3. Who was Comenius ? When did he live ? 
 
 4. Who was Pestalozzi, and when was he born ? 
 
 5. What reform did he work in education ?
 
 LESSON III. 
 
 BODY AND MIND. 
 
 Connection between Body and Mind. We all know 
 that there is an intimate connection between body and 
 mind. We know that when our eyes are open we see, 
 and when they are closed, we do not see ; that when our 
 hands, or other parts of the body, are in contact with an 
 object we have a sensation of touch, and when they are 
 not, we do not. We know that when we deprive our bodies 
 of proper nourishment, as in fasting, we have a headache, 
 and the longer we fast, the more incapable we become of 
 any kind of mental exertion. We know that any derange- 
 ment of the bodily functions produces an immediate effect 
 upon the mind. We know that tea and coffee stimulate, 
 and that alcoholic liquors intoxicate. Many a student has 
 brought upon himself a feeling of bodily exhaustion through 
 purely mental labor ; or, by a long tramp or some other 
 form of prolonged physical exertion, he has produced a 
 feeling of mental exhaustion. In other words, prolonged 
 mental labor not only fatigues the mind but the body; 
 prolonged physical labor not only fatigues the body but 
 the mind. Those are a few of the familiar facts which 
 have made it impossible for any one to doubt that there is 
 a very close relation between the body and the mind. 
 
 16
 
 THE BRAIN AND THE MIND. I'J 
 
 Opinion of the Greeks as to the Connection of the 
 Brain and the Mind. But it is by no means so evident 
 that the brain is the part of the body which is in some 
 sort of direct relation with the mind, and that the rest of 
 the body influences the mind only through its relation to 
 the brain. We shall realize this if we remember that 
 though the Greek physician, Alcmaeon regarded the brain 
 as the common meeting-place of the senses, and this 
 opinion was accepted by Plato, yet Aristotle, himself the 
 son of a doctor, and one of the greatest of the Greek 
 philosophers, rejected it. He said that the brain was a 
 lump of cold substance, useful .as the source of the fluid 
 which lubricates the eyes, but quite unfit to be the organ 
 of mind. What is the evidence which has led physiologists 
 to conclude that he was mistaken ? 
 
 Effect on Consciousness of a Blow on the Head. It 
 
 is a matter of direct experience that the connection between 
 consciousness and the brain is closer than that between 
 consciousness and any other part of the body. A blow on 
 the head may deprive us of consciousness ; a blow on any 
 other part of the body, as a rule, only inflicts pain. It is 
 indeed true that a blow on the heart may cause uncon- 
 sciousness. But that is because the blow may prevent 
 the heart from sending to the brain its proper supply of 
 blood. 
 
 The Nerves Compared with Telegraph Wires. More- 
 over, the pain that we feel from a blow on any other part 
 of the body depends upon the brain. Cut the nerve that 
 connects one of the fingers with the brain, and an injury 
 inflicted upon it makes no impression on consciousness.
 
 jg BODY AND MIND. 
 
 The relation between the body and the brain may be 
 roughly compared to the relation between a telegraph wire 
 and the receiving office. The telegraph wire is important 
 because it is the medium through which the messages are 
 transmitted to the receiving office. But it is the machinery 
 at the receiving office which makes the receipt of messages 
 possible. And precisely as no message can be received 
 if the telegraph wire is cut or injured, so no effect is pro- 
 duced upon the brain, and therefore none on conscious- 
 ness, if the nerves connecting an injured part of the body 
 with the brain are injured. 
 
 There is a rough resemblance between the relation of 
 consciousness to the brain, and that of the ringing of a 
 bell to the striking of its sides by its clapper. Cause 
 the bell by any means to swing to and fro so that the 
 clapper strikes its sides, and you cause it to ring. Affect 
 the brain in any way, either by a blow on the head, or 
 by increasing or decreasing the quantity of blood that 
 supplies it, or by changing its quality, and you affect 
 consciousness. Pulling the bell-rope only causes the bell 
 to ring because it causes the clapper to strike the sides 
 of the bell. When we see how closely pain follows upon 
 an injury inflicted on any part of the body, we might 
 suppose that the bodily injury is the direct cause of the 
 consciousness of pain. But when we remember that 
 the bodily injury affects consciousness only as the effect 
 of the injury is communicated to the brain, we see that it 
 is the effect upon the brain that influences consciousness. 
 
 The Supply of Blood to the Brain. This conclusion, 
 which facts familiar to all of us render highly probable, 
 may be regarded as demonstrated by the conclusions of
 
 MOSSO S TABLE. IQ 
 
 science. While the weight of the entire brain is only 
 about one forty-second of the weight of the body, it has 
 been calculated that the supply of blood used by the brain 
 is one eighth of that used by the whole body. How essen- 
 tial this supply of blood is, becomes evident if it is in any 
 way interfered with. Stop one of the great arteries lead- 
 ing to the brain by compression in the neck or in any 
 other way, and great disturbances in consciousness at 
 once appear, even to the point of its entire cessation. One 
 investigator, Dr. Lombard, found that the temperature of 
 the head varies rapidly, though slightly, during waking 
 hours. By careful measurements with delicate thermo- 
 electric apparatus he found that " every cause that attracts 
 the attention a noise, or the sight of some person or 
 other object produces elevation of temperature. An 
 elevation of temperature also occurs under the influence 
 of an emotion, or during an interesting reading aloud." 1 
 
 Mosso's Table. If it were possible to doubt that this 
 rise in temperature is due to an increase in the blood 
 supplied to the brain, that possibility would seem to be 
 removed by the experiments of an Italian investigator 
 named Mosso. He devised a table so accurately balanced 
 that a man might recline on it without disturbing its 
 balance. He found that its balance was at once destroyed 
 by any cause that quickened the activity of the subject's 
 consciousness. A sudden noise, an interesting thought, 
 anything that increased the activity of consciousness, would 
 cause the head end of the table to sink down as quickly as 
 if a weight had been placed upon it. 
 
 1 Quoted by Ladd, Physiological Psychology, p. 242.
 
 2O BODY AND MIND. 
 
 Localization of Cerebral Functions. All the argu- 
 ments in support of what is called the localization of cerebral 
 functions are so many arguments to show that the brain 
 is the organ of the mind. These arguments we will con- 
 sider in a later chapter. Suffice it here to say that it has 
 been proved to the satisfaction of physiologists and psy- 
 chologists, not only that the brain is the organ of mind, but 
 that particular parts of the brain are connected in a pecu- 
 liarly close and intimate way with certain mental activities. 
 Evidently every argument in support of this conclusion is 
 equally good to show that the brain is the organ of the mind. 
 
 A large number of experiments made upon the lower 
 animals prove the same fact. First one part and then 
 another of the brain of various lower animals (frogs and 
 pigeons, for example) has been removed for the purpose of 
 ascertaining what part of the brain is connected with par- 
 ticular classes of mental operations. And though the 
 phenomena vary with the animal, and with the part of the 
 brain removed, to say nothing of the skill of the operator, 
 the facts taken together leave no doubt of the special con- 
 nection between the brain and the mind. 
 
 The American Crow-bar Case. For obvious reasons 
 such experiments have not been performed upon the 
 brains of men, but disease and accident have performed 
 them for us. One of the most famous of these experiments 
 is that which is now known as the American crow-bar case. 
 While a young man named Gage was " tamping a blasting 
 charge in a rock with a pointed iron bar, 3 feet 7 inches 
 in length, i inches in diameter, and weighing 13*. Ibs., 
 the charge suddenly exploded. The iron bar, propelled 
 with its pointed end first, entered at the left angle of the
 
 AMERICAN CROW-BAR CASE. 21 
 
 patient's jaw, and passed clean through the top of his head, 
 near the sagittal suture in the frontal region, and was 
 picked up at some distance covered with blood and brains. 
 The patient was for a moment stunned, but, within an 
 hour after the accident, he was able to walk up a long 
 flight of stairs and give the surgeon an intelligible account 
 of the injury he had sustained. His life naturally was for 
 a long time despaired of ; but he ultimately recovered, and 
 lived twelve and a half years afterwards. . . . The whole 
 track of the bar is included in that region of the brain 
 which I have described as the praefrontal region. . . . 
 Hear what Dr. Harlow (in a paper read in 1868 before the 
 Massachusetts Medical Society) says as to his mental con- 
 dition : ' His contractors, who regarded him as the most 
 efficient and capable foreman in their employ previous to 
 his injury, considered the change in his mind so marked 
 that they could not give him his place again. The equi- 
 librium or balance, so to speak, between his intellectual 
 faculties and animal propensities seems to have been de- 
 stroyed. He is fitful, irreverent, indulging at times in the 
 grossest profanity (which was not previously his custom), 
 manifesting but little deference to his fellows, impatient of 
 restraint or advice when it conflicts with his desires, at 
 times pertinaciously obstinate, yet capricious and vacillat- 
 ing, devising many plans of future operation, which are no 
 sooner arranged than they are abandoned in turn for others 
 more feasible. A child in his intellectual capacity and 
 manifestations, he has the animal passions of a strong man. 
 Previously to his injury, though untrained in the schools, 
 he possessed a well-balanced mind, and was looked upon 
 by the people who knew him as a shrewd, smart business 
 man, very energetic and persistent in executing all his
 
 22 BODY AND MIND. 
 
 plans of operation. In this regard, his mind was radically 
 changed, so decidedly, that his friends and acquaintances 
 said he was no longer Gage.' " 
 
 Impairment of Memory Due to Injury of the Brain. - 
 It is a matter of common knowledge that injuries to the 
 brain often result in an impairment of memory. Forbes 
 Winslow notes a remarkable case of a soldier upon whom 
 the operation of trephining had been performed and who 
 lost a portion of his brain. The result was that he forgot 
 the numbers five and seven, and those only. After a time 
 his memory of these numbers was restored. Numerous 
 cases are on record of the impairment of memory in con- 
 sequence of a violent blow on the head. 
 
 Aphasia. Very significant as to the dependence of 
 mind on brain are the phenomena designated by the 
 general term aphasia. Dr. Bateman says the term is used 
 "to designate that condition in which the intelligence is 
 unaffected, or at all events but slightly impaired ; when 
 thoughts are conceived by the patient but he can not 
 express himself, either because he has lost the memory of 
 words, or because he has lost the memory of the mechan- 
 ical process necessary for the pronunciation of these words; 
 or because the rupture of the means of communication 
 between the gray matter of the brain and the organs, 
 whose co-operation is necessary to produce speech, does 
 not allow the will to act upon them in a normal manner as 
 the ideas are formed, but the means of communication 
 with the external world do not exist." 2 
 
 1 Quoted by Calderwood in The Relations of Mind and Brain, pp. 479- 
 481, from Terrier's Localization of Cerebral Disease. 
 3 Quoted by Calderwood, p. 388.
 
 MOTOR APHASIA. 23 
 
 Motor Aphasia. The foregoing definition, as we shall 
 see in a later chapter, covers phenomena widely different 
 from each other. A man who can understand what is said 
 to him, but who can not talk, is said to suffer from motor 
 aphasia. He knows what he wants to say, but he has 
 lost control of the mechanism of speech. Sufferers from 
 another kind of aphasia have perfect control of the mechan- 
 ism of speech. They can talk, but they can not under 
 stand what is said to them. They can hear, but they can 
 not grasp the meaning of what is said to them. 
 
 Now in cases of motor aphasia it has been proved that 
 the cause of the difficulty is located in a definitely ascer- 
 tained part of the brain. Says Professor James : "When- 
 ever a patient dies in such a condition as this and an 
 examination of his brain is permitted, it is found that the 
 lowest frontal gyrus is the seat of injury." 
 
 Correspondence between Size and Weight of Brain, 
 and Intelligence. Still another class of facts may be 
 pointed out as indicating the closeness of the relation 
 between the mind and the brain. Comparative anatomy 
 shows that there is a general, though indefinite, corre- 
 spondence of the place of an animal in the scale of intel- 
 ligence, to the size and weight of its brain compared with 
 the bulk of its entire body. In other words, as a rule, the 
 larger and heavier the brain of an animal in comparison 
 with the weight of its entire body, the higher it is in the 
 scale of intelligence. As Professor Ladd says, " The law 
 itself is confessedly subject to remarkable and unexplained 
 exceptions ; at best it only holds good in a general way. 
 For example, the relative weight of the brain is not 
 greatly different in the dolphin, in the baboon, and in
 
 24 BODY AND MIND. 
 
 man." Nevertheless, it may fairly be regarded as adding 
 to the evidence which has convinced physiologists and 
 psychologists that the brain is the organ of the mind. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Mention some of the facts that prove the dependence of the 
 mind upon the body. 
 
 2. Show how essential to consciousness is a plentiful supply of 
 blood to the brain. 
 
 3. What is meant by aphasia ? 
 
 4. State the details of the American crow-bar case. 
 
 5. What is the relation between the size and weight of the brain 
 of an animal, and its position in the scale of intelligence ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. What is meant by the localization of functions ? 
 
 2. Have any cases of impairment of memory from injury to the 
 brain come under your observation ?
 
 LESSON IV. 
 
 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 IN the preceding chapter we have considered the evi- 
 dence which seems to prove that the brain is the organ of 
 the mind. Let us in this chapter endeavor to get an idea 
 of that wonderful mechanism of which the brain consti- 
 tutes the most conspicuous part. Let us try to get an 
 idea of the central nervous system. 
 
 We learned in the last lesson that there is a direct con- 
 nection between the outside of the body and the brain. If 
 your hand comes in contact with a hot stove, you quickly 
 become aware of it through sensations of touch and of 
 pain. There is an equally direct connection between the 
 brain and the muscles that move the hand. As soon as 
 you become conscious of the sensation of pain you snatch 
 your hand away. 
 
 Nerves and Tendons. If you dissect the body of one 
 of the higher animals, you will see some of the machinery 
 by means of which such phenomena are brought about. 
 You will see numerous white cords which look like tendons 
 those dense white cords in which a muscle terminates, 
 and which attach the muscles to the bones of the body. 
 But that these white cords are not muscles, is shown by 
 the fact that many of them are not connected with muscles 
 
 25
 
 2 6 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 at all and those which are, usually enter the central part 
 of the muscle, instead of being attached to its end as ten- 
 dons usually are. These cords are nerves. 
 
 If you follow them in one direction, they subdivide into 
 smaller and smaller branches until they become too small 
 to be seen without the aid of the microscope. If you fol- 
 low them in the opposite direction, they become larger and 
 larger through uniting with similar nerves until they enter 
 a much larger mass, whose structure and appearance differ 
 widely from that of the nerves which enter it. This mass 
 is called a nerve centre. 
 
 Nerve Fibres and Nerve Cells. Nerves are composed 
 of one or more nervous elements called nerve fibres, bound 
 together by connective tissue. The chief constituent of 
 a nerve centre is nerve cells. Nerve fibres and nerve cells 
 differ in density, shape and chemical composition. Fibrous 
 nerve matter contains more water than cellular nerve mat- 
 ter, and is therefore less dense than the latter. They differ 
 in their shape. Fibres are long "thread-like connec- 
 tions," while nerve cells have a great variety of forms. 
 " Some are nearly round ; others ovoidal, caudate, stellate, 
 or shaped like a flask or the blade of a paddle." Nerve 
 fibres and nerve cells differ in size. Nerve fibres vary 
 from about -j-g^ry to -^\^ of an inch in diameter, while 
 nerve cells vary from about ?fa to -5^5 of an inch. It is 
 supposed that there are not less than two and a half mil- 
 lions of sensory nerve fibres alone, while man's entire 
 central nervous system is reckoned to have about three 
 thousand million nerve cells. 
 
 Nerve fibres are never found apart from nerve cells. 
 Indeed, recent investigation has shown that the fibre is an
 
 NERVE FIBRES AND NERVE CELLS. 2/ 
 
 outgrowth or prolongation of the cell. 1 A nerve cell with 
 its prolongation into a nerve fibre constitutes the unit of 
 the nervous system. The essential element of a nerve 
 fibre is called its axis-cylinder. Near the ending of a 
 nerve fibre it is the only constituent of the fibre that is 
 
 FIG. i. Isolated body of a large cell from the ventral horn of the spinal cord. 
 Human, X 2 diameters. A, fibre or fibrous element ; Z>, dendrons ; A 7 ", nucleus 
 with enclosures ; P, pigment spot. (Modified from Donaldson.) 
 
 left ; the other elements the transparent envelope, called 
 the primitive sheath, and the fatty substance, called the 
 medullary sheath, which the primitive sheath encloses and 
 which usually encloses the axis-cylinder being wanting. 
 
 1 The term neuron is applied to the cell with all of its prolongations, of 
 which the fibre is only one. The other prolongations of a cell are called 
 dendrons.
 
 28 
 
 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 Two Functions of the Nervous System. We may 
 regard the nervous system as a mechanism having two 
 great functions to perform : (i) reporting the condition of 
 the outside world to the individual, and enabling him to 
 control his actions accordingly ; and (2) binding the various 
 parts of the body into an interdependent whole. 
 
 The first function we are too familiar with to make 
 extended illustration necessary. A person suffering from 
 rheumatism, feeling a draught of cold air, gets up and 
 
 FIG. 2. Longitudinal and transverse (A) sections of nerve fibres. The heavy 
 border represents the medullary sheath, which becomes thicker in the larger 
 fibres. Sciatic nerve. Human, X 4 diameters. (Donaldson.) 
 
 closes the window. His nerves report the condition of the 
 outside world ; his nerves set in motion the machinery 
 the proper muscles by means of which he closes the 
 window. The one action may be compared with the tele- 
 phoning to the fire department of a city that a building in 
 a certain part of it is on fire ; the other to the sending of 
 engines to extinguish the fire. 
 
 The same illustration may be used to illustrate the 
 second function of the nervous system, the binding to- 
 gether of the various parts of the body into one inter-
 
 FUNCTIONS OF FIBRES AND CELLS. 2Q 
 
 dependent whole. When a draught of cold air strikes the 
 body, apart from the voluntary motion which it may occa- 
 sion, its effects may be felt throughout the entire body. 
 The heart and lungs may modify their activity ; some of 
 the involuntary muscles may contract ; and a shudder may 
 run through the entire physical organism. 1 
 
 Martin well says that in common life "the very fre- 
 quency of this uniting activity of the nervous system is 
 such that we are apt to entirely overlook it. We do not 
 wonder how the sight of pleasant food will make the 
 mouth water and the hand reach out for it ; it seems, as 
 we say, 'natural,' and to need no explanation. But the 
 eye itself can excite no desire, cause the secretion of no 
 saliva, and the movement of no limb. The whole complex 
 result depends on the fact that the eye is united by the 
 optic nerve with the brain, and that again by other nerves 
 with saliva-forming cells, and with muscular fibres of the 
 arm ; and through these a change excited by light falling 
 into the eye is enabled to produce changes in far-removed 
 organs, and excite desire, sensation, and movement." 2 
 
 Functions of Fibres and Cells. This general survey 
 of the functions of the nervous system enables us to antici- 
 pate in an indefinite way the work to be done by the two 
 elements of the nervous system. The fibres, or nerves 
 composed of fibres, will have as their function to transmit 
 stimulations from the surface or outer part of the body to 
 the nerve centres, and to transmit impulses from those 
 centres to the muscles. The cells, or centres composed 
 of cells, will have as their function to receive the stimula- 
 
 1 Cf. Ladd, Physiological Psychology, p. 19. 
 
 2 Martin's Physiology, p. 208.
 
 30 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 tions transmitted by the nerves, and to send impulses 
 along the nerves to the muscles. 
 
 Afferent and Efferent Nerves. The nerves, accord- 
 ingly, may be divided into two classes : the first class 
 connect some sensitive structure as the skin, the retina, 
 the nervous membrane of the stomach, at their peripheral 
 termination, with the centre ; the second connect the cen- 
 tre with the muscles to which they are attached at their 
 peripheral termination. 
 
 The first class are excited to activity by some structure 
 at their peripheral termination, and transmit nervous 
 action to the centre. They are, therefore, called afferent, 
 in-carrying, or centripetal nerves. The second class are 
 excited to activity by the nerve centres with which they 
 are connected, and transmit nervous excitation to the mus- 
 cles with which they are connected at their peripheral 
 extremity. They are, therefore, called efferent, out-carry- 
 ing, centrifugal, or motor nerves. 
 
 The most important of the afferent nerves for Psychology 
 are those which are called sensory nerves, because they 
 connect the sense organs eyes, ears and so on with 
 the nerve centres. The most important of the motor 
 nerves for Psychology are those which connect the nerve 
 centres with the "voluntary" muscles those of the 
 hands, arms, legs, eyes, for example. 
 
 Nature of the Sense Organs. The greater part of 
 the sense organs consist largely of mechanical contriv- 
 ances whose function is to modify the external stimulus, 
 and convey the impulse imparted by it to the nerves of 
 sense.
 
 NATURE OF THE SENSE ORGANS. 31 
 
 For example, the nose consists in large part of a 
 mechanism for bringing the particles of odorous sub- 
 stances in contact with that part of the mucous mem- 
 brane of the nose in which the olfactory nerve terminates. 
 In order that an object may be smelled, it is not enough 
 that an odorous substance be held near the nose. A 
 current of air containing particles of the odorous sub- 
 stance must be drawn through the nose, and thus brought 
 into contact with the terminal fibres of the olfactory 
 nerve. 
 
 In like manner the ear consists for the most part of a 
 mechanism whose function is to modify the waves of sound, 
 and transmit them so modified to the internal ear, in which 
 the fibres of the auditory nerve terminate. When the 
 vibrations of air reach the tympanum, they have too large 
 an amplitude, and too little intensity, to occasion these 
 vibrations in the elements of the internal ear, which are 
 essential to the excitation of the auditory nerve. The 
 tympanum modifies these vibrations so as to adapt them 
 to the excitation of the terminal fibres of the auditory 
 nerve, and at the same time transmits them to the internal 
 ear. 
 
 So likewise, the eye consists in part of an optical instru- 
 ment, in part of a sensitive nervous membrane called the 
 retina, on which the image resulting from the optical 
 instrument is formed. The eye, as an optical instrument, 
 transmits the stimulations received from light to the 
 nervous elements in the retina in which the optic nerve 
 terminates. 
 
 The nerve centres with which Psychology is especially 
 interested are those which are found in the encephalon, or 
 contents of the skull, and the spinal cord.
 
 32 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 Gray and White Matter. These centres consist of 
 masses of gray and white matter. The white matter con- 
 sists chiefly of nerve fibres; the gray matter, of nerve cells. 
 These cells, as we have seen, have prolongations or out- 
 growths called fibres, of which the axis-cylinder is the most 
 essential element. After the axis-cylinder leaves the cell, 
 it divides into two or more parts. Some of these parts 
 enter the white mass, composed chiefly of nerve fibres, and 
 become part of these fibres. Some pass through this white 
 mass and unite with the parts into which the axis-cylinders, 
 extending from other cells, are divided. 
 
 Gray Matter of the Brain. The gray matter of the 
 brain is not found in a single compact mass. The cere- 
 brum, located in the upper and front part of the brain, has 
 a covering of gray matter, "like a thin rind," called the 
 cerebral cortex, from ^ to of an inch in thickness. 
 Within the cerebrum, and separated from the gray matter 
 of the cortex by a mass of white matter, are found the 
 large ganglia masses of gray matter which are called 
 the optic thalami. Behind these are the corpora quadri- 
 gemina, and behind these, and forming a part of the out- 
 side surface of the brain, is the cerebellum. These, with 
 the gray masses of the spinal cord, and the medulla ob- 
 longata, the body in which the spinal cord terminates, are 
 the gray masses of the nervous system in which Psychology 
 is especially interested. 
 
 Spinal Cord. The spinal cord and the brain are con- 
 There is no point where we can say that the one 
 tops and the other begins. Physiologists have, however, 
 greed to regard the cord as commencing opposite the
 
 SPINAL CORD. 
 
 33 
 
 outer margin of the foramen magnum of the occipital 
 bone. Its average diameter is about | of an inch ; its 
 length, 1 7 inches ; and its weight, I \ ounces. 
 
 It is nearly divided into right and left halves by two 
 fissures, one on the ventral, and the other directly opposite, 
 
 FIG. 3. The spinal cord and nerve-roots. A, a small portion of the cord seen from 
 the ventral side ; B, the same seen laterally ; C, a cross-section of the cord ; D, 
 the two roots of a spinal nerve ; I, anterior (ventral) fissure ; 2, posterior (dorsal) 
 fissure ; 3, surface groove along the line of attachment of the anterior nerve- 
 roots ; 4, line of origin of the posterior roots ; 5, anterior root filaments of spinal 
 nerve ; 6, posterior root filaments ; 6', ganglion of the posterior root ; 7, 7', the 
 first two divisions of the nerve-trunk after the union of the two roots. (Martin.) 
 
 on the dorsal side. If we examine a transverse section of 
 the cord, we shall find that it is composed of white and 
 gray matter, and that its white matter surrounds its gray 
 matter, which is arranged "somewhat in the form of 
 a capital H," the horizontal bar representing the gray 
 matter which connects the gray matter in the right and
 
 34 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 left halves of the cord, and the two vertical bars represent- 
 ing the gray matter on the right and left of the fissure. 
 
 The white matter consists of fibres, some traversing it 
 in a horizontal and others in a vertical direction, and a 
 connecting substance called neuroglia. The gray matter 
 consists of ganglion cells and a homogeneous gray mass in 
 
 FIG. 4. Diagram illustrating the general relationships of the parts of the brain. 
 A, fore-brain ; f>, mid-brain; B, cerebellum ; C, pons Varolii ; D, medulla oblon- 
 gata; B, C, and D together constitute the hind-brain. (Martin.) 
 
 which a majority of recent observers find a net-work of fine 
 axis-cylinders running in all directions. 
 
 Thirty-one pairs of nerves enter the spinal cord. Each 
 of these nerves, before entering the cord, divides into a 
 dorsal and ventral part which are called respectively the 
 posterior and the anterior roots of the nerve. The posterior 
 root consists of afferent or sensory fibres, the anterior root 
 of efferent or motor fibres.
 
 FOLDS OF THE CORTEX. 35 
 
 The brain is much larger than the spinal cord, and 
 much more complex in its structure. The whole brain 
 in the adult male weighs on the average about 50 ounces. 
 Figure 4 illustrates in a general way the position of the 
 various parts of the brain. The fore-brain weighs in man 
 on the average about 44 ounces. It consists chiefly of the 
 cerebrum, which is divided into two parts known as the 
 cerebral hemispheres by a deep fissure which extends 
 through its middle. 
 
 Folds of the Cortex. The gray cortical rind which 
 constitutes the surface of the cerebrum is folded upon 
 itself many times as appears from Figure 5. These folds 
 are called gyri or convolutions. Their effect is to greatly 
 increase the surface of the brain. It is estimated that if 
 the cortex of the brain of a person of average intelligence 
 were unfolded it would be found to have an area of about 
 four square feet. The folds of the human cortex are 
 deeper and more numerous, as a rule, than those of the 
 most intelligent animals, and in the brains of the most 
 highly civilized nations than in those of savages. 
 
 For reasons which will be stated in a later chapter, the 
 cortex of the cerebrum is the part of the brain which is 
 supposed to be connected in the closest and most intimate 
 way with intelligence. It is, therefore, important for stu- 
 dents of Psychology to pay special attention to it. 
 
 If we examine the convolutions of different brains, we 
 shall see that they vary greatly in their details, not only in 
 different individuals, but even in the two hemispheres of 
 the same brain. The convolutions have been divided into 
 primary, secondary and tertiary classes according to the 
 strength and clearness and positiveness with which they
 
 36 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 are distinguishable. The primary convolutions have been 
 compared to the large mountain ranges whose height and 
 breadth and direction give to an extensive territory its 
 characteristic features; the secondary convolutions to those 
 subordinate ranges which owe their existence to valleys in 
 the mountain range, running in the same direction ; the 
 tertiary convolutions to the small spurs that extend into 
 
 cu 
 
 FIG. 5. The brain from the left side. Cb, the cerebral hemispheres forming the 
 main bulk of the fore-brain ; Ci>/, the cerebellum ; Mo, the medulla oblongata ; 
 P, the pons Varolii ; * the fissure of Sylvius. (Martin.) 
 
 the valleys from the side of the ranges. The primary con- 
 volutions are distributed in the brains of different individ- 
 uals and in the two lobes of the same cerebrum with a 
 good deal of regularity. With them, all regularity stops. 
 The depressions between the convolutions are called sulci. 
 Corresponding to primary, secondary and tertiary convo- 
 lutions are, accordingly, primary, secondary and tertiary 
 sulci.
 
 CORTEX A SYSTEM OF ORGANS. 37 
 
 Cortex a System of Organs. The cortex is a very 
 complex organ perhaps we ought to say, system of organs. 
 For it is made up of a vast multitude of nervous elements 
 with immovable fibres connecting them with each other 
 and with other parts of the nervous system. We shall the 
 more clearly realize the reasons for regarding at least in 
 a provisional way the cortex as a system of organs, if we 
 bear in mind what these connecting fibres are. They may 
 be divided into four classes. 
 
 Sensory Fibres and the Cortex. The first class is 
 composed of sensory fibres. They may be described in 
 brief as the fibres which form the last connecting link 
 between the surface of the body where the sensory impulse 
 starts, and the centre. I say the last connecting link. For 
 the nervous impulse "changes cars," so to speak, a number 
 of times on its way from the surface of the body to the 
 cortex. The first change is made when the sensory im- 
 pulse reaches the cells in the posterior horns of the spinal 
 cord. Sometimes as in the case of reflex action, here- 
 after to be described the sensory impulse travels no 
 farther. But generally it travels upward along fibres which 
 run throughout the entire length of the spinal cord to the 
 medulla oblongata, where these terminal fibres bend at 
 right angles and pass into its gray matter. The sensory 
 impulse is interrupted here "changes cars" but passes 
 out of the medulla oblongata through a number of other 
 gray masses, until it finally reaches the cortex. These 
 fibres then, the fibres which form the last connecting link 
 between the various parts of the surface and the centre, 
 are the first of the four classes which terminate in the 
 cortex.
 
 5 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 Motor Fibres and the Cortex. -The second class of 
 
 connecting fibres in the 
 cortex are those that 
 form the first connect- 
 ing link between the 
 cortex and the volun- 
 tary muscles. These 
 motor fibres, as we 
 may term them, are the 
 paths by which motor 
 impulses travel from 
 the cortex. The entire 
 path from the cortex 
 to the muscle has been 
 divided into two parts 
 the central motor 
 path and the peripheral 
 motor path. The cen- 
 tral motor path in 
 the case of the spinal 
 motor nerve consists 
 of (i) the fibres extend- 
 ing from the cells in 
 the cortex, and (2) the 
 fibres extending up- 
 wards from the motor 
 cells of the anterior 
 horns of the spinal cord. 
 The peripheral motor 
 path consists of the 
 fibres connecting the 
 muscle. The motor fibres 
 
 FIG. 6. Schema showing the pathway of the 
 sensory impulses. On the left side, S, S' t 
 represent afferent spinal nerve fibres ; C, an 
 afferent cranial nerve fibre. This fibre in 
 each caso terminates near a central cell, the 
 fibre of which crosses the middle line, and 
 ends in the opposite hemisphere. (Modified 
 from Donaldson.) 
 
 same motor cell with the
 
 ASSOCIATION FIBRES. 39 
 
 of the cortex constitute the first part of the central 
 motor path. 
 
 Association Fibres. The third class of connecting 
 fibres are called association fibres. They connect one part 
 of the cortex with another. Says Edinger : " They extend 
 everywhere from convolution to convolution, connecting 
 parts which lie near each other as well as those which 
 are widely separated." They are called association fibres 
 because it is supposed to be by means of them that we are 
 able to associate one experience with another. 
 
 FIG. 7. Lateral view of a human hemisphere, showing the bundles of association 
 fibres. (Starr.) A, A, between adjacent gyri ; , between frontal and occipital 
 areas ; C, between frontal and temporal areas, cingulum ; Z?, between frontal and 
 temporal areas, fasciculus uncinatus ; E, between occipital and temporal areas 
 fasciculus longitudinalis inferior; C.N., caudate nucleus; O. T,, optic thalamus. 
 (Donaldson.) 
 
 Commissural Fibres. The fourth class of connecting 
 fibres are those which connect identical parts of the two 
 hemispheres of the cerebrum with each other. They are 
 called commissural.
 
 4O THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What is the difference between nerve cells and nerve fibres ? 
 
 2. What is a neuron ? 
 
 3. What are the two functions of the nervous system ? 
 
 4. What are afferent nerves ? 
 
 5. Mention the parts of the brain in which Psychology is espe- 
 cially interested. 
 
 6. Describe the four classes of fibres which connect one part of 
 the cortex with another, and with the various parts of the body.
 
 LESSON V. 
 
 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 Functions of the Fibres. After this brief survey of 
 the nervous system we are ready to consider its functions. 
 It is evident that the office of the fibres is to conduct 
 nervous excitations. When you snatch your hand away 
 from a hot stove, the pain is not in the hand ; for, if the 
 nerve which connects the hand with the spinal cord is 
 divided, you will feel no pain. The brain has caused a 
 change in the ends of the nerve that cerminate in the 
 injured part, and this change has been transmitted along 
 the nerve to the spinal cord. The same kind of evidence 
 shows that the motor nerves running from the spinal cord 
 to the muscles have the same office. For, if the nerves 
 extending to the muscles of your arm be divided, you can 
 not snatch your hand away when you feel the sensation of 
 pain. You will be like an animal shot by an arrow which 
 has been dipped in the poison called curari a poison 
 which renders the motor nerves incapable of action, while 
 it does not affect the sensory nerves. You will feel the 
 pain, but will be unable to move your hand. 
 
 Nature of a Nervous Impulse. As to the nature of 
 the change which takes place during the passage of a 
 nervous impulse, physiologists and psychologists are almost
 
 42 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 entirely ignorant. Says Professor Martin : " Since between 
 sense organs and sensory centres, and these latter and the 
 muscles, nervous impulses are the only means of communi- 
 cation, it is through them that we arrive at our opinions 
 concerning the external universe and through them that 
 we are able to act upon it ; their ultimate nature is there- 
 fore a matter of great interest, but one about which we 
 unfortunately know very little." * 
 
 Nerve centres also conduct nervous excitations, but this 
 is not their most characteristic work. Perhaps the best 
 way to realize what this is, is to contrast reflex with volun- 
 tary actions, as many physiologists understand it. 
 
 We all know what is meant by voluntary actions. They 
 are actions which seem to be the result of our volitions. 
 For certain conscious reasons, we will to act in a certain 
 way, and the action follows. If, however, the act takes 
 place as the result of the stimulation of an afferent nerve, 
 without the intervention of consciousness, it is called 
 reflex. 
 
 Voluntary, Reflex and Semi-reflex Actions. Pro- 
 fessor James gives a clear illustration of the difference 
 between voluntary and reflex actions and a kind of action 
 intermediate between the two. " If I hear the conductor 
 calling 'All aboard !' as I enter the depot," he says, "my 
 heart first stops, then palpitates, and my legs respond to 
 the air waves falling upon my tympanum by quickening 
 their movements. If I stumble as I run, the sensation of 
 Hing provokes the movement of the hands towards the 
 direction of the fall, the effect of which is to shield the 
 body from too sudden a shock. If a cinder enter my eye, 
 
 1 Martin's Physiology, p. 203.
 
 MECHANICAL NATURE OF REFLEX ACTIONS. 43 
 
 its lids close forcibly, and a copious flow of tears tends to 
 wash it out." 1 
 
 In this illustration we have examples of three different 
 kinds of action. The quickening of the pace in con- 
 sequence of the conductor's " All aboard ! " is an example 
 of voluntary action. It is an action following upon a dis- 
 tinct volition, or at least upon a definite state of conscious- 
 ness. With the closure of the eye, on the other hand, and 
 the flow of tears, consciousness had nothing to do. The 
 nervous impulse caused by the cinder passed along an 
 afferent nerve leading from the eye to a certain nerve 
 centre, and that centre imparted an impulse to an efferent 
 nerve connected with the muscles whose contraction results 
 in the closure of the eye, and the result was the closure of 
 the eye without the intervention of consciousness. Such 
 actions are called reflex. 
 
 The movement of the hands illustrates what is some- 
 times called semi-reflex actions, and sometimes acquired 
 reflexes. The last term is the better because it marks 
 the two essential facts in the case: (i) The action so 
 characterized is now performed without the intervention of 
 consciousness. In that respect it is like reflex actions, so 
 called. (2) Such actions were not originally so performed. 
 They are therefore said to be acquired reflexes. 
 
 Mechanical Nature of Reflex Actions. That the 
 actions described as reflex are mechanical, there can be no 
 manner of doubt. Certain afferent and efferent nerves, 
 with the nerve centres of which they are outgrowths or 
 prolongations, with the muscles with which the efferent 
 nerves are connected, are the mechanical contrivances for 
 
 1 James's Psychology, p. 12.
 
 44 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 the performance of certain particular kinds of actions 
 Any correct definition you may make of a machine will 
 apply equally well to the mechanism concerned in reflex 
 action. Pull the trigger of a gun and it fires ; put a cinder 
 in the eye and it closes. Strike a certain key of a piano 
 and it produces a certain note. Stroke the flanks of a 
 brainless frog and it croaks. 
 
 I will not stop here to enlarge upon the fact that a large 
 number of actions originally voluntary become acquired 
 reflexes which is only a way of saying that certain nerve 
 centres can be educated to perform, without the aid of 
 consciousness, actions of which they were quite incapable 
 in the beginning. What I wish to emphasize is the fact 
 that many eminent physiologists and not a few psycholo- 
 gists believe that there is no real difference between reflex 
 actions and voluntary actions, except in the degree of com- 
 plexity of the mechanism by means of which they are 
 brought about. 
 
 The Automatic Theory. Says the physiologist Foster: 
 " The real difference between an automatic (reflex) action 
 and a voluntary act is that the chain of physiological 
 events between the act and its physiological cause is in 
 the one case short and simple, in the other long and com- 
 plex." In other words according to this doctrine as 
 a segment of the spinal cord, with its afferent and effer- 
 ent nerves, may be regarded as a comparatively simple 
 machine, the cerebrum, with the nerves and the nerve 
 centres connected with it, is likewise a machine, only very 
 much more complex and intricate in its structure. As you 
 can not help closing your eye when a cinder gets into it, 
 your spinal cord being what it is, so you can not help read-
 
 THE AUTOMATIC THEORY. 45 
 
 ing this chapter, providing you are reading it, your cere- 
 brum being what it is. As consciousness certainly has 
 nothing to do with reflex actions so the doctrine asserts 
 it has nothing to do with so-called voluntary actions. If 
 you could find a machine whose actions made no noise, it 
 would illustrate the reflex machinery of our bodies in that 
 such a machine acts without consciousness. The ordinary, 
 more or less noisy machinery with which we are acquainted 
 illustrates the nervous mechanism by which so-called vol- 
 untary actions are performed. For, as the noise of the 
 machine contributes nothing whatever to what the machine 
 does, as it is the inert effect of its activity, so (accord- 
 ing to the doctrine) consciousness our feelings, hopes, 
 fears, volitions has nothing whatever to do with our 
 actions. We get up, eat, walk, write, read, study, go on 
 journeys, adapt a long series of actions to what seems an 
 intelligent purpose, not because we are intelligent, con- 
 scious beings, but because our bodies are supplied with a 
 wonderful piece of mechanism the cerebrum. 
 
 Some crude diagrams may help to make the matter 
 clear. 
 
 Diagram i illustrates the mechanism of reflex action. The 
 line AB represents the afferent nerve along which a nerv- 
 ous impulse travels to the nerve centre BC, and CD the 
 efferent nerve along which the nervous impulse is deflected 
 by the nerve centre. This illustrates in a rough way the
 
 46 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 mechanism of reflex action. A nervous impulse starts at 
 one point A and is propagated to a nerve centre, where it 
 is deflected and propagated in the opposite direction by a 
 nerve centre. The action from start to finish is purely 
 material. Consciousness has no more to do with it than it 
 has with the falling of a house which is blown down by a 
 tornado. 
 
 Diagram 2 illustrates the mechanism of so-called volun- 
 tary action according to the doctrine. The line AB 
 represents the path of a nervous impulse to a nerve centre 
 as before. But instead of deflecting the nervous impulse 
 in the opposite direction along the efferent nerve CD, the 
 nerve centre transmits the impulse along the nerve BF to 
 the cortex the cortical cells deflect it in the opposite 
 direction and propagate it along the nerve GC. Although 
 consciousness accompanies such actions, it has nothing to 
 do with causing them according to the theory. A mate- 
 rial change at A was the occasion of the nervous impulse, 
 itself only a material change, which travels to B ; a mate- 
 rial change at B was the occasion of a nervous impulse 
 material change which travels to the cells of the cortex ; 
 a material change in the cells of the cortex caused the 
 nervous impulse material change along the nerves GC 
 and CD. From start to finish the action is material, and 
 material only. And although at a certain point in the path 
 consciousness appears, this consciousness has no more to 
 do with the action that follows than the whiz of a moving 
 wheel has with its motion. 
 
 Objections to the Theory. I have not explained this 
 theory for the purpose of criticising it. A theory that flies 
 so rudely in the face of common sense does not need
 
 FUNCTION OF THE NERVE CENTRES. 47 
 
 criticism in the case of the great majority of students. 
 Most of us, I am confident, will feel sure that it is rather 
 the result of the limitations in the knowledge of the spe- 
 cialists who hold it than the proved outcome of incontest- 
 able reasoning. Most of us will feel that these specialists 
 have their faces toward their laboratories, and their backs 
 toward life, with its almost infinite wealth of intricate and 
 complex adaptations of means to ends. If we could forget 
 these adaptations, these manifestations of intelligence in 
 ourselves and others which meet us on every hand, it would 
 doubtless be easy to accept a theory which reduces the 
 actions which our bodies perform to one ultimate type, a 
 theory which banishes consciousness from the scene of 
 causality as an unwelcome intruder and disturber of that 
 perfect unity, the realization of which is the ideal of the 
 scientific mind. But with a vivid appreciation of these 
 manifestations of intelligence we shall not be disturbed by 
 the speculations of these theorists, and the less so in view 
 of the fact that some of the most eminent psychologists in 
 the world among them Professors Wundt, James and 
 Ladd in full view of all the evidence that seems to sup- 
 port the theory, have rejected it. 
 
 Function of the Nerve Centres. I have called atten- 
 tion to the theory because it seems to me to put in a clear 
 light what is admitted by all parties to be the function of 
 the nervous centres what we shall call the co-ordination 
 of nervous impulse, in such a way as to cause the outgoing 
 impulses to produce an apparently purposive result. To 
 exhibit the evidence in detail for this conclusion in such a 
 book as this is impossible, but it may be said that the 
 whole difference between the psychologists like Professors
 
 48 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 James, Wundt and Ladd, who reject the theory I have 
 described called the automaton theory and those who 
 hold it, is as to the extent to which this work of co-ordina- 
 tion is performed by the nerve centres without the aid of 
 consciousness. The former admit that some of the centres 
 of the nervous system perform this work of co-ordination 
 without the aid of consciousness; they also admit that 
 where consciousness intervenes, these nerve centres are 
 the mechanism it employs. The automatists, on the other 
 hand, maintain that this work of co-ordination is in all 
 cases the unassisted work of the nerve centres. 
 
 Mechanism Required in Reflex Actions. The mech- 
 anism required in reflex actions is clear, from what has 
 been said of them. It consists (i) of a sensitive surface 
 exterior or interior, (2) an afferent nerve, (3) a cell or 
 nerve centre connecting the afferent nerve with the sensi- 
 tive surface (4) of an efferent nerve connecting the nerve 
 centre with (5) a muscle or muscles. 1 
 
 The afferent impulse starts in (i), passes along (2), 
 reaches (3), is there changed into an efferent impulse, 
 which passes along (4), finally reaches (5), where it causes 
 a contraction of a muscle or muscles. The essence of 
 reflex action, then, consists in the change by means of the 
 protoplasm of a nerve cell of an afferent into an efferent 
 impulse. 2 
 
 Efferent Impulses. An efferent impulse is not simply 
 a deflection of an afferent impulse. A crumb of bread in 
 
 1 For the sake of simplicity, I omit from consideration those reflex 
 actions in which the efferent nerve is not connected with muscles. 
 8 Foster's Physiology, p. 129.
 
 AUTOMATIC ACTIONS. 49 
 
 contact with the glottis may occasion a violent fit of cough- 
 ing in which not only all the respiratory muscles, but 
 nearly all the muscles of the body, are brought into action. 
 The efferent impulse which stimulated the muscles whose 
 contraction resulted in coughing is not in such a case a 
 mere deflection of the afferent impulse. The afferent 
 impulse was slight and feeble ; the efferent impulse was 
 extensive and powerful, and was communicated to a large 
 number of nerves. Evidently, the number and character 
 of efferent impulses in any given case depend primarily 
 not on the afferent impulse, but on the changes which 
 take place in the nerve centres. 
 
 Automatic Actions. In addition to the functions of 
 the nerve centres in reflex action, acquired reflexes and 
 voluntary actions, some of them have functions which seem 
 to be sharply contrasted with these. These are the auto- 
 matic centres, " which are centres not directly excited by 
 nerve fibres conveying impulses to them, but in other 
 ways." For example, the movements in breathing do not 
 depend upon consciousness. In that respect they are con- 
 tracted with voluntary actions. But the nerve centres 
 that propagate the nervous excitation to the muscles con- 
 cerned in breathing are not themselves excited to activity 
 by efferent fibres leading to them. They are stimulated 
 directly by the blood that flows through them. Actions 
 so resulting are, in this respect, contrasted with reflex 
 actions. 
 
 We have then four classes of actions: (i) automatic 
 actions in which the nerve centres concerned are not 
 stimulated by afferent fibres ; (2) reflex actions in which 
 the centres are stimulated by afferent fibres, and to which
 
 50 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 they respond with machine-like directness and regularity ; 
 (3) acquired reflexes in which the centres are also stim- 
 ulated by afferent fibres, and in which they now respond 
 with machine-like directness and regularity, but in which 
 they did not have that power to begin with; (4) voluntary 
 actions whose differentiating characteristic is that the 
 centres concerned in their production seem to depend on 
 the will. 
 
 Centres of Automatic Action. The medulla oblongata 
 contains numerous centres of automatic action, among 
 them the movements employed in breathing. If the brain 
 is removed above the medulla, the breathing movements 
 are hardly disturbed at all. But if the medulla is removed 
 or injured, all breathing stops, even though the injury be 
 confined entirely to the medulla, the muscles and nerves 
 concerned in breathing being entirely uninjured. 
 
 The Cerebellum. The cerebellum is the organ for 
 many acquired reflexes. We all know how easy it is to 
 walk, and at the same time concentrate our entire atten- 
 tion on a conversation. All that it seems necessary for 
 the mind or consciousness to have to do with it is to 
 set the machine well going, so to speak, when some part of 
 the nervous mechanism relieves consciousness of all further 
 work in the matter. We have forgotten how we learned 
 to walk, but we all remember how necessary it was to give 
 our entire attention to our movements when we were learn- 
 ing to skate or ride a bicycle. But the experienced skater 
 or cyclist can skate or ride with as little attention to what 
 he is doing as we are obliged to give to walking. 
 
 The difference between a man who can skate and one
 
 SUMMARY OF CONCLUSION. 51 
 
 who can not is that the one can and the other can not 
 control his muscles in such a way as to produce the 
 desired result. And the difference between the man who 
 can only skate by giving his entire attention to it, and the 
 one who can skate and think about something else, is that 
 in the one case the mandate to the necessary muscles pro- 
 ceeds from the cerebrum, the centre directly connected 
 with consciousness ; in the other, from a centre not 
 directly connected with consciousness. In other words, 
 in the case of the person learning to skate, walk, ride a 
 wheel, play on a musical instrument, the nervous impulse 
 to the proper muscles proceeds directly from the cortex of 
 the cerebrum. In the case of a person who has learned 
 to walk, or the skillful skater or wheelman, all that the 
 cortex of the cerebrum seems to do is to initiate the action, 
 when the supervision and further direction of it is carried 
 on by a lower centre. That centre seems to be the cere- 
 bellum. The reason for this conclusion may be summarized 
 as follows : When the cerebellum is injured, the most 
 marked result seems to be a loss of the power to perform 
 the acquired reflexes used in locomotion. 
 
 Summary of Conclusion. We may then sum up the 
 results of this chapter as follows : The functions of the 
 nervous system may be broadly divided into two classes 
 those of the fibres or nerves, and those of the cells or 
 centres. The office of the fibres is to conduct excitations 
 to and from the centres. The centres are concerned in 
 four kinds of actions : automatic, reflex, acquired reflexes, 
 and voluntary. The medulla oblongata is one of the cen- 
 tres from which automatic actions proceed. The spinal 
 cord is pre-eminently a centre of reflex actions. It is also
 
 52 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 a centre of many acquired reflexes. The cerebellum is 
 the centre for the acquired reflexes used in locomotion. 
 We will consider the functions of the cerebrum in the next 
 lesson. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What is the function of nerve fibres? 
 
 2. What is the nature of the change which takes place during the 
 passage of a nervous impulse ? 
 
 3. What is the difference between reflex, semi-reflex, automatic, 
 and voluntary actions ? 
 
 4. Explain the automaton theory. 
 
 5. What is the mechanism required in reflex actions ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Do you believe in the automaton theory? 
 
 2. Physiologists are much more inclined to accept the theory than 
 psychologists ; what do you suppose is the reason for it ? 
 
 3. How do you account for the purposive character of reflex 
 actions ?
 
 LESSON VI. 
 
 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 
 
 Cerebrum and Intelligence. That the cerebrum is 
 more closely related to intelligence than any other part of 
 the nervous system, is proved by the same evidence that 
 goes to show that the brain is the organ of the mind. 
 Re-read the lesson on that subject and you will have 
 before you the evidence that has convinced physiologists 
 and psychologists that the cerebrum is in a special sense 
 the organ of the mind. The blow on the head that 
 deprives one of consciousness is a blow that affects the 
 cerebrum. The nervous connection that must be main- 
 tained in order that pain may be felt, is the connection 
 between the injured part and the cerebrum. The injuries 
 to the brain that result in the impairment of memory or 
 aphasia are injuries of the cerebrum. 
 
 Cortex and Intelligence. But the cerebrum is a 
 large organ. Is there any evidence to show that any par- 
 ticular part or parts of it sustain this especially intimate 
 relation to intelligence ? There is nearly a consensus of 
 opinion among physiologists and psychologists to the effect 
 that there is such a part, and that is the thin rind of gray 
 matter called the cortex. 
 
 The evidence for this opinion may be stated under two 
 
 53
 
 54 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 
 
 heads: (i) The higher an animal stands in the scale of 
 intelligence, the deeper and more numerous, as a rule, are 
 the folds or convolutions of the cortex. Remembering 
 that these folds increase the surface of the cortex, we may 
 say that, as a rule, the higher an animal stands in the 
 scale of intelligence, the greater the extent of the surface 
 of its cortex in proportion to its size. There are, indeed, 
 a few exceptions to the rule. A few animals, not high in 
 the scale of intelligence, have deeper and more extended 
 folds than other animals standing above them in that scale. 
 (2) The cerebral functions, so far as they have been 
 located, have been located in the cortex. All the evidence, 
 therefore, for the localization of those functions points to 
 the same conclusion. What, then, is the nature of that 
 evidence ? 
 
 Meaning of " Localization of Functions." Before 
 attempting to answer this question, let us try to get a clear 
 idea of what is meant by "localization of mental func- 
 tions." The question which the theory undertakes to 
 answer may be stated as follows : Have different parts of 
 the cerebrum the same work to do in relation to our men- 
 tal life ? Do they sustain the same relation to the life of 
 sensation, memory, and voluntary motion ? Those who 
 say that they have, deny, and those who say that they 
 have not, affirm, the localization of the cerebral functions. 
 
 Presumptions in Favor of it. The most general 
 knowledge of the nervous system would lead. one to expect 
 some localization of the functions of the cerebrum. We 
 have seen that there are sensory nerves and motor nerves 
 nerves that minister to sensation and nerves that min-
 
 THE DOCTRINE COMPARATIVELY NEW. 55 
 
 ister to motion. A further study of the nerves shows us 
 that this division of labor is carried much farther. Some 
 of the efferent nerves are motor and some are not ; some 
 of the motor nerves are voluntary and some involuntary. 
 Moreover, each motor nerve is connected with some par- 
 ticular muscle, not with the muscles in general. And 
 precisely as the motor nerves are each of them connected 
 at their peripheral terminations with certain particular 
 muscles, so they have their origin in different parts of the 
 brain. It is difficult to believe that the nervous impulse 
 that travels along them to the muscles does not have its 
 origin in some definite cell or group of cells. In like man- 
 ner the sensory nerves that connect the surface of the 
 body with the cortex must connect that surface with a 
 definite part of the cortex, provided they go to the cortex 
 at all. The nerves that proceed from the end of my little 
 finger and connect it with the cortex must terminate in 
 some definite place ; they cannot terminate in the brain in 
 general. 
 
 The presumption, thus created, that different parts of 
 the cerebrum will be found to have different offices to per- 
 form in relation to our mental life, is strengthened by a 
 consideration of the nerve centres. The gray matter of 
 the spinal cord is a. succession of centres for the perform- 
 ance of different reflex actions ; the medulla oblongata is 
 a group of centres for various automatic actions, each hav- 
 ing its own definite place. Whether, then, we consider 
 nerve fibres or the lower centres, a strong presumption in 
 favor of the localization of cerebral functions is created. 
 
 The Doctrine Comparatively New. Nevertheless, 
 the doctrine as a scientific theory is only a little more
 
 56 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 
 
 than a quarter of a century old. The most eminent 
 authorities in physiology half a century ago decided em- 
 phatically against it. One of them declared that he had 
 experimented upon the cortex of different animals, dogs, 
 rabbits, and kids, " had irritated it mechanically, cauterized 
 it with potash, nitric acid, etc., and had passed galvanic 
 currents through it, in different directions, without obtain- 
 ing any signs whatever of muscular contractions." ] 
 
 The same year another eminent physiologist summed 
 up the results of numerous experiments with the declara- 
 tion that the various parts of the cerebrum have no special 
 function, but that the lobes of the cerebrum perform their 
 functions with their whole mass. 
 
 In 1870 Fritsch and Hitzig began the investigations, 
 which, with those of many other workers in the same field, 
 have caused the opinion of those physiologists to be over- 
 thrown. It has been perfectly established that certain 
 parts of the cerebrum, at least, have certain specific func- 
 tions in our mental life. 
 
 In stating the evidence for this conclusion no descrip- 
 tion will be attempted of the particular parts of the cortex 
 which have been proved to be connected with particular 
 mental activities. Knowledge of this sort can be best 
 imparted by diagrams, and upon these I shall rely for 
 making clear the areas of the cortex concerned in particu- 
 lar mental activities so far as they are known. 
 
 The localizations most clearly established are the motor 
 areas, those areas from which the nervous impulse starts 
 which results in the contraction of the voluntary muscles. 
 The evidence which proves that there are such areas is of 
 various kinds. 
 
 1 Ladd's Physiological Psychology, p. 253.
 
 EFFECTS OF STIMULATION. 57 
 
 Effects of Stimulation. (i) It has been proved that 
 the stimulation of a definite part of the cortex of dogs, 
 monkeys and other animals produces definite movements, 
 sometimes in the face, sometimes in the hind-legs, some- 
 times in the fore-legs, sometimes in the tail, according to 
 the part stimulated. A savage, upon accidentally strik- 
 ing a key of a piano, might suppose that there was no real 
 connection between his action and the sound that followed 
 it, that the one followed the other by accident. But if he 
 struck the same key again and again, and if he extended 
 his experiments to the other keys of the piano, he could 
 hardly fail to believe that there was a causal connection 
 between each particular key and the sound that followed 
 it. In like manner, when we learn that the stimulation of 
 a particular part of the cortex, both by electricity and 
 mechanically, is invariably followed by a particular move- 
 ment; when we learn that this movement does not follow 
 if this connection between the part of the cortex stim- 
 ulated and the nerve centres at the base of the brain has 
 been cut off, it is impossible not to believe that that part 
 of the cortex is the place from which the motor nerves 
 that lead to the muscles concerned in the movement take 
 their origin. 
 
 Effects of Removal of Parts of the Brain of Animals. 
 
 (2) While stimulating definite areas of the cortex occa- 
 sions a definite movement of a definite part of the body, 
 it has been proved that a removal of the cortical area 
 which has been shown by stimulation to be connected 
 with a definite movement, deprives the animal of the 
 power to perform that movement.
 
 58 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM.' 
 
 Difficulties. It must indeed be admitted that these 
 experiments do not permit such definite, clear-cut con- 
 clusions as those arising from the experiments described 
 in the preceding paragraph. For it has been proved that 
 the loss of the power to perform definite movements which 
 results from a removal of a particular part of the cortex is 
 not permanent. Says Professor James : " Even when the 
 entire motor zone of a dog is removed, there is no perma- 
 nent paralysis of any sort." 
 
 Explanation of these Difficulties. The explanation 
 of these facts is too intricate and involved to be under- 
 taken in such a book as this. I will only say that the 
 generally accepted explanation is that other centres some- 
 how learn to do the work usually performed by the cen- 
 tres which have been destroyed. If we bear in mind that 
 every cortical centre may be regarded from one point of 
 view as the place where incoming currents, along afferent 
 fibres, become outgoing currents along efferent fibres, 
 and if we remember that innumerable fibres connect every 
 cortical centre with every other, we shall perhaps be able 
 to form some idea of how this is possible. As a train, by 
 the destruction of the city of Chicago with all its tracks 
 and depots, although prevented from going from New 
 York to Denver by its customary route, would neverthe- 
 less eventually reach its destination by another route, so 
 nerve currents, at first prevented from reaching their des- 
 tination particular muscles by the destruction of the 
 depots nerve centres on their customary route, might 
 eventually reach this destination over new routes or new 
 paths. 
 
 But whatever may be the explanation of the fact that
 
 MEN SUFFERING FROM BRAIN DISEASE. 59 
 
 animals whose motor areas have been removed somehow 
 learn to perform the movements which they were unable 
 to perform, the fact can not overthrow the conclusion that 
 definite parts of the cortex are the centres particularly 
 concerned in definite movements. 
 
 Observations of Men Suffering from Local Brain Dis- 
 ease. Observations of men suffering from local brain 
 disease have helped to put this conclusion beyond the 
 reach of doubt. These observations have made it possible 
 to map out with a great deal of definiteness the areas 
 of the brain concerned with particular movements. Not 
 only have the centres for the legs and face been mapped 
 out, but within the areas of these centres smaller ones 
 have been mapped out, areas which are concerned with 
 definite movements of the parts of the body concerned. 
 Thus, the areas concerned with the motion of the eyelids, 
 with the muscles of the angle of the mouth, all have their 
 definite positions in the area for the face. " So definite," 
 says Professor Martin, " are the positions of these areas that 
 in cases of localized paralysis, diagnosed as due to lesions 
 of the cerebral cortex, surgeons now have no hesitation in 
 opening the skull in order if possible to remove the cause 
 of trouble, as a small tumor : they know precisely in what 
 spot they will find it." 1 
 
 Said Dr. W. W. Keen : " When I say that the existence 
 of a tumor about the size of the end of the forefinger can 
 be diagnosticated, and before touching the head it should 
 be said (and I was present when the statement was made) 
 that it was a small tumor, that it did not lie on the surface 
 of the brain but a little underneath it, and that it lay 
 
 1 Martin's Physiology, p. 624.
 
 60 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 
 
 partly under the centre for the face and partly under that 
 for the arm in the left side of the brain, and that the man 
 was operated on and the tumor was found exactly where 
 it was believed to be, with perfect recovery of the patient, 
 it is something which ten years ago would have been 
 declared the art of a magician rather than the cold preci- 
 sion of science." Evidence such as this may be regarded 
 as conclusive, however difficult we may find it to explain 
 to ourselves all the related facts. 
 
 Aphasia. Observations of persons suffering from 
 aphasia confirm this same conclusion. As mentioned in a 
 preceding lesson, in every case in which a post-mortem 
 examination of the brain of a person suffering from motor 
 aphasia has been permitted, an injury has been found in a 
 certain definite part of the brain. ' The curious facts in 
 connection with aphasia, for example, that a person has 
 control of his voice but can not talk, or that he can write 
 intelligently but can not talk, or that he can write but can 
 not say what he wishes to say, or that he can write but 
 can not read what he has written, are easily explained by 
 the theory of localization of cerebral functions. 
 
 If we suppose the cortical centre for the control of the 
 voice and for talking are different, it is easy to see that 
 the injury of the one is not necessarily the injury of the 
 other, and that, therefore, there is no necessary connection 
 between the loss of the power to talk and the ability to 
 control the voice. In like manner it is easy to see that 
 the centre for writing may not be impaired, even if the 
 association fibres that connect the writing centre with the 
 cells concerned in the production of certain ideas are 
 injured. Also, a person whose centre for talking is injured
 
 HERING ON FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 6 1 
 
 will be unable to talk, but that will not prevent him from 
 being able to write, if the writing centre is unimpaired. 
 Nor will the fact that a person can write enable him to 
 read what he has written if the association fibres connect- 
 ing the centres concerned in seeing with the centres cor- 
 responding to the idea of^what is read are injured. 
 
 Bering on the Functions of the Cerebrum. Professor 
 E. Hering states his conclusions as to the functions of the 
 cerebrum in the following language : " The different parts 
 of the hemispheres are like a great tool-box with a count- 
 less variety of tools. Each single element of the cerebrum 
 is a particular tool. Consciousness may be likened to an 
 artisan whose tools gradually become so numerous, so 
 varied and so specialized that he has for every minutest 
 detail of his work a tool which is especially adapted to 
 perform just this precise kind of work very easily and 
 accurately. If he loses one of his tools he still possesses 
 a thousand other tools to do the same work, though under 
 disadvantages both with reference to adaptability and the 
 time involved. Should he happen to lose the use of these 
 thousand also, he might retain hundreds with which to do 
 the work still, but under greatly increased difficulty. He 
 must needs have lost a very large number of his tools if 
 certain actions become absolutely impossible." 
 
 Problem of Physiological Psychology. The assertion 
 that each single element of the cerebrum is a particular 
 tool specially adapted to perform a certain work in con- 
 sciousness goes a long way beyond the evidence. The 
 sensations of sight, sound, smell, touch and taste have 
 *been localized with varying degrees of probability. But
 
 62 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 
 
 if the famous postulate of Meynert becomes satisfactorily 
 proved, as seems possible, the most distinctive features 
 of the consciousness of human beings will remain unex- 
 plained. Professor James states that postulate in the 
 following language : " The highest centres contain nothing 
 but arrangements for representing impressions and move- 
 ments, and other arrangements for coupling the activity 
 of these arrangements together." Suppose this proved. 
 Suppose we knew the cortical centre for each sensation 
 and each movement, and each idea of a sensation and 
 each idea of a movement ; suppose also we knew the 
 association fibres by means of which one sensation (cor- 
 tical centre) is connected with another sensation (cortical 
 centre), shall we have then an explanation of all the tools 
 which consciousness uses ? We shall, provided the entire 
 mental life consists of sensations and ideas, and associa- 
 tions of sensations and ideas. But if this is not all of the 
 mental life, if it leaves out of account the distinctive 
 feature of mental life, the consciojisness of relations, as I 
 maintain that it does, then thinking (which consists in 
 the consciousness of relations] is a part of the mental 
 life which in the nature of the case can not be explained 
 by the cerebrum. Upon this conception of the matter, the 
 work possible to Physiological Psychology will have been 
 done when Meynert' s postulate shall have been satisfac- 
 torily proved in all its details. But consciousness, as the 
 relating activity of the mind, as binding sensations into a 
 whole of consciously related parts (concepts), and concepts 
 into a whole of consciously related parts (judgments), and 
 judgments into a whole of consciously related parts (acts 
 of reasoning), all these distinctive and unique features 
 of the human mind must seek their explanation in a'
 
 PROBLEM OF PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 63 
 
 Ro 
 
 11 
 
 r 
 
 Pa 
 
 Fr 
 
 FIG. 8. Diagram of outer surface of left cerebral hemisphere to illustrate the 
 localization of functions. The motor area is shaded in vertical and transverse 
 lines : Sy, fissure of Sylvius ; an, angular gyrus or convolution ; Ro, fissure of 
 Rolando ; Fr, frontal lobe ; Pa, parietal lobe ; Te, temporal lobe. Only a very- 
 few of the more important fissures are indicated. Compare with Fig. 9. (Martin.) 
 
 FIG. 9. Diagram of inner surface of left cerebral hemisphere to illustrate cerebral 
 localization. Sy, fissure of Sylvius ; Ro, fissure of Rolando ; Fr, frontal lobe ; 
 Of, occipital lobe ; Te, temporal lobe Cc, corpus callosum ; ///, third ventricle. 
 Compare with Fig. 8. (Martin.)
 
 64 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 
 
 department of thought to which Physiological Psychology 
 is an entire stranger. 
 
 The figures on page 63 will show what is known of the 
 parts of the cortex in which the various mental activities 
 have so far been localized. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Show that the cerebrum is more closely related to intelligence 
 than any other part of the brain. 
 
 2. Show that the cortex is more closely related to intelligence than 
 any other part of the cerebrum. 
 
 3. What is meant by the "localization of cerebral functions"? 
 
 4. State the evidence for it 
 
 5. What is Meynert's postulate ? 
 
 6. What would follow if it were proved ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. What is meant by the "relating activity of the mind"? 
 
 2. Why can not Physiological Psychology explain it ?
 
 LESSON VII. 
 
 WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY ? 
 
 What is Psychology ? The answer usually given is 
 that Psychology is the science of the mind or soul. But 
 what is the soul ? People who have not thought carefully 
 about it would probably say that, whatever it is, it cer- 
 tainly is not the mind. Animals, they would say, plainly 
 have minds, but no one believes that they have souls. 
 
 Do Animals Have Souls ? It may serve to give clear- 
 ness to our ideas to consider the question whether or not 
 animals have souls. Without doubt, in the confused sense 
 in which the word is used in popular language, the true 
 answer is that they have. If you suppose that animals 
 have no souls, let me ask you if you have one. You will 
 undoubtedly say that you have. Suppose I ask you 
 whether you are always dreaming when you are asleep. 
 You will probably answer that you are not. And when 
 you say that you are not dreaming, what do you mean ? 
 
 " I mean," I imagine you saying, " that there are no 
 thoughts or feelings in my mind." 
 
 " And when there are no thoughts and feelings in your 
 mind, does your soul continue to exist ? " 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " You say that you do not think you are always dream- 
 
 6S
 
 66 WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY? 
 
 ing when you are asleep ; and when you say that you are 
 not dreaming, you say that you mean that you have no 
 thoughts or feelings in your mind. So far as thoughts 
 and feelings go, I understand you to say that you are 
 exactly like a dead man. A dead man has no thoughts 
 and feelings, neither have you when you are not dreaming. 
 Now, when you have no thoughts and feelings in your 
 mind, does your soul continue to exist ? " 
 
 "I certainly believe it does, as I have no reason to 
 believe that it ceases to exist when I fall asleep and begins 
 to exist as soon as I awake, as must be the case if it 
 ceases to exist when I have no thoughts and feelings." 
 
 "Then you do not mean by soul the thoughts and feel- 
 ings of which you are conscious, or a part of those thoughts 
 and feelings ? " 
 
 " Again I do not understand you." 
 
 " You say that your soul does not cease to exist when 
 you have no thoughts or feelings ; now, if it does not, your 
 soul can not be your thoughts and feelings, can it ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because if it were, when you have no thoughts and 
 feelings, you would have no soul, would you ? " 
 
 " I see that I would not." 
 
 "And it can not be a part of your thoughts and feel- 
 ings?" 
 
 ' No, for if it were an/part of them when I had none 
 of any kind, I would have no soul." 
 
 "You mean by soul, then, not thoughts and feelings, 
 but the thing that has thoughts and feelings ? " 
 
 " Again I am obliged to say that I do not understand 
 you." 
 
 "A German professor is said to have begun a first
 
 THE SOUL ONE OF THREE THINGS. 67 
 
 lesson on Psychology in this way : ' Students, think about 
 the wall.' After a moment's pause : ' Now think about 
 the thing that thinks about the wall. The thing that 
 thinks about the wall is what is to be the subject of your 
 study.' That is what you mean by soul, is it not the 
 thing which thinks and feels, the thing which has thoughts 
 and feelings ? " 
 
 "It is." 
 
 " And what do you mean by mind ? " 
 
 " I mean that which thinks and feels, or that which has 
 thoughts and feelings." 
 
 " But things which are identical with the same thing 
 are identical with each other, are they not ? " 
 
 " They are." 
 
 " And if the soul is that which thinks and feels, and the 
 mind is that which thinks and feels, they must be the 
 same, must they not ? " 
 
 " I see that they must." 
 
 "If then you say that dogs, for instance, have minds, 
 can you refuse to admit that they have souls ? " 
 
 " I am obliged to confess that I can not." 
 
 The Soul One of Three Things. In this imaginary 
 dialogue you may say that in the nature of the case I can 
 prove what I wish to prove, since I can put any words in 
 your mouth I please. But if you will carefully consider 
 it, you will see that you are obliged to say that the soul is 
 one of three things : It is either all of our thoughts and 
 feelings, or a part of them, or the thing which has thoughts 
 and feelings the thing which thinks and feels and wills. 
 If you say that the soul is all or a part of our thoughts 
 and feelings mental facts, in a word then, instead of
 
 68 WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY? 
 
 saying that Psychology is the science of the soul, it would 
 be much plainer to say that Psychology is the science of 
 mental facts. But if you say that the soul is that which 
 thinks and feels and wills, then, as we have seen, there is 
 no difference between soul and mind, and we are left with 
 the definition, Psychology is the science of the mind. 
 
 Meaning of Mind. But what do you mean by mind ? 
 What we have seen in the case of the soul that it con- 
 sists of thoughts, feelings, and acts of the will, or that 
 which thinks, feels, and wills is plainly true of the mind 
 also. It must either be that which thinks, feels, and wills, 
 or it must be the thoughts, feelings, and acts of will of 
 which we are conscious mental facts, in one word. But 
 what do we know about that which thinks, feels, and wills, 
 and what can we find out about it ? Where is it ? You 
 will probably say, in the brain. But if you are speaking 
 literally, if you say that it is in the brain, as a pencil is in 
 the pocket, then you must mean that it takes up room, 
 that it occupies space, and that would make it very much 
 like a material thing. In truth, the more carefully you 
 consider it, the more plainly you will see what thinking 
 men have known for a long time that we do not know 
 and can not learn anything about the thing which thinks 
 and feels and wills. It is beyond the range of human 
 knowledge. The books which define Psychology as the 
 science of mind have not a word to say about that which 
 thinks ana feels and wills. They are entirely taken up 
 with these thoughts and feelings and acts of the will 
 mental facts, in a word trying to tell us what they are, 
 and to arrange them in classes, and tell us the circum- 
 stances or conditions under which they exist.
 
 DEFINITION OF MENTAL FACTS. 69 
 
 It seems to me, therefore, that it would be better to 
 define Psychology as the science of the experiences, phe- 
 nomena, or facts of the mind, soul, or self of mental 
 facts, in a word. 
 
 Definition of Mental Facts. But what is a mental 
 fact ? Let us say, to start with, that it is a fact known 
 directly to but one person, and that the person experi- 
 encing it. If you are standing on the street with a half 
 dozen friends, you can all see the houses, and men and 
 women and horses. You can all hear the tramping of feet 
 and the clatter of the vehicles that pass along the street. 
 These facts are open to the observation of all of you alike. 
 But there is a class of facts known directly to but one of 
 you ^what you think and feel and will, you know, and 
 no one else does ; what A thinks and feels and wills, he 
 knows, and no one else does. These thoughts and feelings 
 and volitions are experiences, phenomena, or facts of the 
 mind, soul, or self mental facts, in a word facts 
 known to but one person directly, and that the person 
 experiencing them. 
 
 Unconscious Mental Facts. But I believe there are 
 mental facts not known to any one. If you are intent 
 upon a book, the clock may strike and you may not hear 
 it at the time, and a minute after you may be entirely sure 
 that you heard the clock strike a minute before, although 
 you did not know at the time that you heard it. The true 
 explanation of facts like these seems to be that the clock 
 produced a sensation which you would have known was a 
 sensation of sound if you had attended to it at the time 
 the clock struck, and in the sense of having received a
 
 yO WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY ? 
 
 sensation because of the clock, you heard it. But you did 
 not know that you heard it until the minute after. Now, 
 what must we call this sensation ? Plainly a mental fact, 
 although there was a time when it was not known by any 
 one. Still, however, it is marked off quite sharply from 
 all other facts physical facts we may call them, which 
 may be known with equal directness by any number of 
 people by the circumstance that, although not known, 
 it is knowable by but one person, and that the person 
 experiencing it. We may then define a mental fact as a 
 fact known or knowable to but one person directly, and 
 that the person experiencing it, and Psychology as the 
 science of mental facts, or the science of the facts of mind. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. How is the question, "What is Psychology, " usually answered? 
 
 2. Would you say that dogs have souls T 
 
 3. How would you defend your answer? 
 
 4. What is the objection to defining Psychology as the science of 
 the mind or soul ? 
 
 5. How would you define Psychology? 
 
 6. What is a mental fact? 
 
 7. What is a physical fact ? 
 
 8. Into what two classes would you put mental facts ? 
 
 9. Can you have mental facts without knowing that you have 
 them? 
 
 10. Give examples. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Do animals reason ? 
 
 2. Are you ever in a state of dreamless sleep ? 
 
 3. What is the difference between matter as a substance, and 
 matter as a group of phenomena ?
 
 QUESTIONS. 71 
 
 4. What do we know of matter as a substance of the experi- 
 ences, phenomena, or facts of the mind, soul, or self ? 
 
 5. Why is it that it so often happens that you can not tell your 
 motives for what you do ? 
 
 6. In what sense is it true that the soul is in the brain ?
 
 LESSON VIII. 
 
 THE SUBJECT MATTER OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 IN the last lesson I tried to point out the subject of 
 which Psychology treats. I objected to the usual defini- 
 tion, " Psychology is the science of the mind or soul," not 
 because it is incorrect, but because I do not believe it 
 gives young students definite ideas. I want you to get at 
 the outset the clearest possible notion of the subject you 
 are to study. I want you to realize that the facts of which 
 you are directly conscious, the facts known directly to you 
 only that these and similar facts form the subject of 
 which Psychology treats. 
 
 Physical and Mental Facts. We may, perhaps, put 
 the subject matter of Psychology in a clearer light by 
 contrasting mental facts with physical facts. A physical 
 fact, as we know, is one open to the observation of all 
 men. Trees, houses, flowers, fences the whole of 
 external nature, in a word are physical facts, since all 
 of us can observe them with equal directness. But what 
 shall we say of the brain, or any of the internal organs of 
 one's body ? Are they mental facts ? They are, provided 
 they are known to but one person directly, and that the 
 person experiencing them. But careful reflection will con- 
 vince you that no one has any direct knowledge of his 
 body. 
 
 72
 
 DIRECT KNOWLEDGE OF OUR BODIES. 73 
 
 Have we Direct Knowledge of our Bodies? That 
 we have such an organ as the heart, for example, was 
 established by a process of reasoning. If we had known 
 it directly, it is hard to see why the world was obliged to 
 wait for Harvey to demonstrate the circulation of the 
 blood why it was not from the beginning a matter of 
 direct knowledge. Strange as it may seem at first thought, 
 it is pretty nearly absolutely certain that we have no direct 
 knowledge of our own bodies. We learn of the existence 
 of our own bodies as we do of the rest of the external 
 world, by a process of reasoning. Descartes long ago said 
 that if we could move the sun or moon by an effort of will, 
 as we can our hands and feet, we should regard them as 
 a part of our own bodies. The sole difference, so far as 
 Psychology is concerned, between any external object, as 
 a tree, and our bodies, is (i) that the former does not 
 move in obedience to our wills, and (2) that it is not a 
 source of sensations as our bodies are. I put my hand on 
 a hot stove, and I have a feeling of pain. I put a stick in 
 the same position, and I have no such sensation. 
 
 How a Child Distinguishes his Body from the Rest 
 of the External World. Any one who has ever watched 
 a very young child will be quite sure that he has not dis- 
 criminated his body from the rest of the external world. 
 He first confuses his body with the rest of the external 
 world. Little by little he comes to learn that a little piece 
 of this external world sustains a very peculiar relation to 
 him that it obeys his will, moves when he wishes it to 
 move, stops when he wishes it to stop, and that it is the 
 direct occasion of pleasure and pain as nothing else is. 
 These two facts, then, and these two facts alone, distin-
 
 74 THE SUBJECT MATTER OK PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 guish our bodies from the rest of the external world, so 
 far as Psychology is concerned, and give us our peculiar 
 interest in them. 
 
 While this course of reasoning makes it clear that the 
 internal organs of the body are not mental facts, another 
 course will make it equally clear that they are physical 
 facts. Is a pencil in a drawer a physical fact ? No one 
 can see it. No, you say, but every one can see it if it is 
 taken out of the drawer. Precisely. We need, then, to 
 think of a physical fact as one open to the observation of 
 all men, certain conditions being complied with. Bearing 
 this in mind, we see that the various internal organs of 
 the body are physical facts, because when the body is dis- 
 sected they are open to the observation of all men, pre- 
 cisely as is a tree or flower. 
 
 Nature of the Mental Facts of which we are 
 Conscious. Hoping, then, that the difference between 
 mental and physical facts is so clear that there will be no 
 danger of confusing them, permit me to call your attention 
 a little more closely to the mental facts which we are to 
 study, in order that we may avoid a mistake into which 
 many people fall the mistake of supposing that any of 
 the mental facts of which we are conscious are simple. 
 You remember our definition of Psychology the science 
 of the facts, phenomena, or experiences, which, when we 
 are conscious of them, we are conscious of as experiences 
 of the mind, soul, or self. The point I wish to emphasize 
 is that we are never conscious of any experience, separated 
 or detached from the mind. As you read this, you are, 
 perhaps, conscious of attending. Look into your own 
 mind and see what it is you are conscious of ; it is of
 
 OF UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL FACTS. 75 
 
 yourself attending, is it not ? not of an abstract act of 
 attention. So, also, when you perceive or remember or 
 imagine or reason, what you are conscious of is not an 
 abstract act of perception or memory or imagination or 
 reasoning, but yourself perceiving, yourself remembering, 
 yourself imagining, yourself reasoning. This, of course, is 
 only another way of saying that you yotirself enter as a 
 constituent into every mental fact of which you are con- 
 scious. In other words, in being conscious of mental facts, 
 we are conscious of ourselves. Many writers appear to 
 think that a mental fact of which we are conscious exists 
 independently of the mind and separate from it, as a tree 
 or a stone seems to do. But a careful looking into your 
 own mind will convince you that they are mistaken ; it 
 will convince you that when you are conscious of a mental 
 fact you are really conscious of yourself in a certain act 
 or state, of yourself having a certain experience. As you 
 never know the act or state or experience apart from your- 
 self, so you never know yourself apart from the act or 
 state or experience. Hume said that when he looked into 
 his own mind he always found thoughts and feelings and 
 acts of the will, but he never found anything else he 
 never found any self. Certainly not in the sense in which 
 he was speaking. He was looking for a self apart from, 
 and independent of, the various thoughts, feelings, and acts 
 of the will of which he was conscious, and no such self is 
 to be found. The self of consciousness, I repeat, exists 
 not apart from, but as an element of, the various experi- 
 ences of which we are conscious. 
 
 s Of Unconscious Mental Facts. You will be careful 
 to note that the mental facts into which the mind enters
 
 76 THE SUBJECT MATTER OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 as a constituent are those of which we are conscious. 
 I have already tried to show that mental facts exist in the 
 lives of each of us of which we are not conscious ; mental 
 facts of the existence of which we never know save by a 
 process of reasoning. Of such mental facts the mind is 
 not an element, and that is precisely why we are not con- 
 scious of them. The mind is conscious, or has direct 
 knowledge, of only its own acts or states or modifications 
 or experiences. A mental fact which is not an act or 
 state or modification of the mind, the mind can learn the 
 existence of only by a process of reasoning. And now I 
 hope the scope of our definition of Psychology is entirely 
 clear. Psychology is the science of those facts, phenomena, 
 or experiences which, when we are conscious of them, we 
 are conscious of as experiences of the mind, soul, or self. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What is the usual definition of Psychology, and what is the 
 objection to it ? 
 
 2. Is the brain a mental fact ? Why not? 
 
 3. How do we come to distinguish our bodies from the rest of the 
 external world ? 
 
 4. What is the difference between a mental fact of which we are 
 conscious and one of which we are not conscious ? 
 
 5. Why is it that we are not conscious of some mental facts ? 
 
 6. State and explain the definition of Psychology. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. When was Harvey born, and what did he do ? 
 
 2. Descartes is called the father of modern philosophy; what does 
 that mean ? When was he born ? 
 
 3. Hume is called a philosophical skeptic; what is a philosophical 
 skeptic ?
 
 LESSON IX. 
 
 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 Kinds of Mental Facts in which Psychology is Inter- 
 ested. " But in what kind of mental facts," perhaps you 
 ask, " is Psychology interested ? I had the toothache 
 yesterday ; that, if I understand you, was a mental fact ; 
 but Psychology has no interest in such facts, has it ? " No 
 and yes. That you, John Smith, had the toothache is a 
 matter of indifference to Psychology. Psychology has no 
 more interest in that fact than the science of Botany has 
 in the fact that you have a bed of geraniums. Like all 
 sciences, its aim is general knowledge ; and that you, John 
 Smith, had the toothache is not general knowledge it is 
 knowledge of an individual. But when you had the tooth- 
 ache, you found it difficult to study, did you not ? You 
 can doubtless recall many similar cases in your experience 
 cases in which severe pain interfered with that concen- 
 tration of mind which we call study. And keen delight 
 is just as unfavorable to study. You received a letter 
 some time ago that made you very happy, so happy that 
 you could not concentrate your mind on your work for 
 an hour ; and you find that the experience of other people 
 is like yours in this regard. So, although Psychology 
 cares nothing about your toothache, there is something 
 
 77
 
 78 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 in the experience that it does care about. So far as 
 your experience illustrates what is true of all minds 
 under similar circumstances, so far it is a matter of 
 interest to Psychology. 
 
 Laws of Mind. Or I might say that what Psychology 
 especially seeks to ascertain is laws of mind, or of mental 
 facts. A law of mental facts is a general truth about 
 mental facts something which will be true, not only in 
 all your experience, but in the experience of every one 
 under similar circumstances. We have just been consider- 
 ing an example of a law of mental facts that intense 
 feeling, whether of pleasure or pain, can not exist along 
 with concentration of mind on another subject. That is a 
 law of mental facts, because it is true of the experiences of 
 all men without exception. Since one of the conditions of 
 concentration of thought one of the things which makes 
 it possible is the absence of intense feeling, concentra- 
 tion of thought, on a subject foreign to the feeling, never 
 can co-exist with intense feeling. That is a perfectly 
 general proposition, and, as such, illustrates a law of the 
 mind. 
 
 Evidently, then, to ascertain laws of the mind, you must 
 not only study the facts of your own experience, but those 
 of other people. If you confine yourself to your own 
 experience, you can not be sure that your knowledge is 
 general ; you are liable to confuse a personal peculiarity 
 with a principle of human nature. Imagine Andrew Jack- 
 son endeavoring to get a knowledge of human nature by 
 studying himself alone. If he had taken himself as a type 
 of men in general, he would have had very erroneous ideas 
 of human nature.
 
 INTROSPECTIVE METHOD. 79 
 
 Introspective Method. But can you study the minds 
 of other people in the same way that you can your own ? 
 Try it. You often wish to know whether your pupils are 
 attending to you, or whether they understand you. Can 
 you find out, in the same way, that you know whether or 
 not you are attending ? Plainly not. You know that you 
 are attending simply by looking into your own mind, and 
 you can not look into the mind of any one else. The word 
 which means looking into is "introspection"; and the 
 adjective " introspective " seems, therefore, to describe best 
 the way or mode or method in which you study your own 
 mind. But you can not learn anything about the minds 
 of other people in that way. When you study other people, 
 you notice their looks and actions. Many teachers think 
 they can tell whether their pupils are attending to them 
 without asking questions. They look or act as though they 
 were attending, and so the teachers who believe this con- 
 clude they are. Conclude, I say. Note the word. It 
 denotes a process of reasoning. And when we study the 
 minds of others, we have to do it by processes of reason- 
 ing by acts of inference. 
 
 Inferential Method. You do not even know that 
 there is any one in the world besides yourself except by a 
 process of reasoning. When you say you see a man, the 
 truth is that you have sensations of color, and from this 
 fact infer the presence of a human being like yourself. 
 When you see this human being laugh, you infer that he 
 is amused, just as you are conscious of being amused when 
 you laugh. All that you learn of any human being you 
 learn by reasoning by inference. As, then, we call the 
 method of studying our own minds the introspective
 
 80 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 since we study them by looking directly within so we 
 may call the method of studying the minds of others the 
 inferential, since we do it by processes of inference. 
 
 The Inferential Method and the Study of History. 
 Whatever you learn about the minds of others whether 
 you learn it from what you see them do, or what you 
 read about them you learn by means of the inferential 
 method. When you learn how Washington exposed him- 
 self when Braddock's army was routed, and at the battle 
 of Princeton, you infer that he was brave, precisely as you 
 would have done if you had seen him. Since all the facts 
 of human history relate to the actions of men, they are 
 materials which the inferential method uses to increase 
 our knowledge of human nature. When we learn, for 
 example, that the ancient Greeks left their weak children 
 exposed, in order that they might die, the inferential 
 method enables us to see that Greek fathers and mothers 
 did not love their children as fathers and mothers love 
 their children now, and that they probably loved their 
 country more, since a weak child was considered of no 
 worth because it gave no promise of being able to be of 
 service to the State. When we know that Aristotle said 
 that all that was necessary to reform or relax the manners 
 of a people was to add one string to the lyre or take one 
 from it, the same method enables us to see that the Greeks 
 had a susceptibility to music of which we can scarcely 
 have any idea to-day. When we know that " those doughty 
 old mediaeval knights despised the petty clerk's trick of 
 writing, because, compared to a life of toilsome and heroic 
 action, it seemed to them slavish and unmanly," we know 
 that they looked upon a very different world from ours
 
 INFERENTIAL METHOD AND MIND STUDY. 8 1 
 
 a world of different aims and ideals ; that the knowledge 
 we prize so highly, and toil so painfully to gain, was a thing 
 of no value in their eyes. The inferential method even 
 uses the relics of the prehistoric ages to add to our knowl- 
 edge of men. It takes the rough tools of the cave-dwellers 
 and forces from them a little knowledge of the strange 
 men who used them. 
 
 Inferential Method and the Study of our own Minds. 
 
 I have said that the introspective method is the method 
 we use in studying our own mental facts. That needs 
 qualification. It is possible for us to study our own minds 
 by means of the inferential method. People often forget 
 their motives for their actions. They say : " I do not know 
 how I came to do that." In such cases they can learn 
 their motives only by means of the inferential method, 
 precisely as though they were other people whose actions 
 they were considering, and which they were trying to 
 account for. It is doubtless true, as we shall see in a later 
 chapter, that in many cases there is no reason in the sense 
 of conscious motive. Some idea suggested the action, and 
 the action was straightway performed in the entire absence 
 of anything that can be called reasoning. Further, the 
 introspective method can only give us individual facts. 
 As the bodily eye only sees isolated objects, and can not 
 connect them by laws, so the eye of the mind only sees 
 isolated mental facts, and can not connect them together 
 by laws. In other words, we observe facts not laws. 
 Laws are the result of inference never of direct obser- 
 vation. 
 
 The introspective and inferential methods, then the 
 two methods of studying mind evidently sustain a close
 
 ,82 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 relation to each other. You can, indeed, use the intro- 
 spective method without the inferential, in the mere collec- 
 tion of facts; but you can not use the inferential at all 
 without the introspective. When you infer that people 
 have such and such mental facts under such and such cir- 
 cumstances, it is because you know by introspection that 
 you have the same mental facts under the same circum- 
 stances. The laughter and tears of others would have no 
 meaning to you if you had never known amusement or 
 sorrow. 
 
 Difficulties of the Inferential Method. Each of 
 these methods has its peculiar difficulties. The results 
 reached by means of the inferential method are always 
 more or less uncertain. If you have ever made a thorough 
 study of the history of any great man, you have doubtless 
 had an excellent illustration of this. While different his- 
 torians generally agree substantially as to the actions of 
 men, they differ very widely in their interpretations of 
 those actions. Federalist historians, and those who sym- 
 pathize with them, usually regard Jefferson, for example, 
 as a demagogue, while Democratic historians regard him 
 as an exalted and devoted patriot. The reason of course 
 is that, using the inferential method, the one explained his 
 actions by one set of mental facts, the other by another. 
 
 Illustration. A passage in John Fiske's The Begin- 
 nings of New England gives such an excellent illustration 
 of the inferential method and its difficulties that it deserves 
 to be quoted at length : 
 
 " It is difficult for the civilized man and the savage to 
 understand each other. As a rule, the one does not know
 
 DIFFICULTIES OF INTROSPECTIVE METHOD. 83 
 
 what the other is thinking about." And then, speaking of 
 Eliot, and what the Indians thought about him, the author 
 goes on : " His design in founding his villages of Christian 
 Indians was in the highest degree benevolent and noble, 
 but the heathen Indians could hardly be expected to see 
 anything in it but a cunning scheme for destroying them. 
 Eliot's converts were for the most part from the Massa- 
 chusetts tribe, the smallest and weakest of all. The 
 Plymouth converts came chiefly from the tribe next in 
 weakness the Pokanokets, or Wampanoags. The more 
 powerful tribes Narragansetts, Nipmucks, and Mohegans 
 furnished very few converts. When they saw the white 
 intruders gathering members of the weakest tribes into 
 villages of English type, and teaching them strange gods 
 while clothing them in strange garments, they probably 
 supposed that the pale-faces were simply adopting these 
 Indians into their white tribe as a means of increasing 
 their military strength. At any rate, such a proceeding 
 would be perfectly intelligible to the savage mind, whereas 
 the nature of Eliot's design lay quite beyond its ken. As 
 the Indians recovered from their supernatural dread of the 
 English, and began to regard them as using human means 
 to accomplish their ends, they must, of course, interpret 
 their conduct in such light as savage experience could 
 afford. It is one of the commonest things in the world 
 for a savage tribe to absorb weak neighbors by adoption, 
 and thus increase its force preparatory to a deadly assault 
 upon other neighbors." 
 
 Difficulties of the Introspective Method. The great 
 difficulty with the introspective method is that a mental 
 fact vanishes as soon as you begin to examine it introspec-
 
 84 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 lively. The feeling of amusement, of course, is a mental 
 fact. The next time you are amused, suppose you try to 
 analyze the feeling. Some psychologists say that it con- 
 sists in part of a feeling of superiority. If you make a 
 study of your experience to see whether they are right, 
 your feeling of amusement will disappear. Or suppose 
 you try to ascertain what sort of a mental fact pity is. 
 \Yhen you find yourself pitying some one, if you examine 
 your experience to see what pity is, the feeling will vanish. 
 If the nature of flowers were such that they disappeared the 
 moment one began to observe them closely, the study of 
 Botany would exactly illustrate the difficulty of studying 
 the mind by means of the introspective method. And as, 
 in such a case, the botanist would have to content himself 
 with observing his facts in the dim light of memory, so 
 also must the psychologist. As his facts disappear the 
 moment he begins to examine them, his only resource is 
 to appeal to the memory his introspection becomes 
 retrospection. 
 
 Study of Children. Of course the minds that are of 
 the most importance for you as teachers to study are the 
 minds of children, and it is evident that you must study 
 them by means of the inferential method. If you would 
 get that knowledge of them that will enable you to teach 
 them well, you must note their likes and dislikes, their 
 amusements, their games, the books they read, the mis- 
 takes they make everything, in short, that may throw 
 light on their minds. Do not rely on any knowledge of 
 the mind you can get from this or any book. A good 
 book on Psychology is like a guide in a strange city 
 useful chiefly in telling you where to look. But, as a guide
 
 QUESTIONS. 85 
 
 is of no service to a man who refuses to use his eyes, so a 
 writer on Psychology can be of little use to his readers 
 unless they constantly test his statements by their own 
 experiences and by the study of the minds of those around 
 them. 1 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What kind of mental facts constitutes the science of Psychology ? 
 Illustrate. 
 
 2. What is a law of mental facts ? Illustrate. 
 
 3. State and explain and illustrate the two ways of studying 
 mental facts. 
 
 4. Illustrate how the inferential method uses historical facts to 
 enlarge our knowledge of mind. 
 
 5. How can you study your own mind by means of the inferential 
 method ? 
 
 6. Point out the relations that exist between the two methods. 
 
 7. State and illustrate the difficulties of the two methods. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Are there any mental facts which do not form part of the 
 science of Psychology ? 
 
 2. Do you know any facts which indicate that there is a difference 
 in the keenness of internal perception in different people ? 
 
 3. If you were a Turk or a Chinaman,^and knew nothing of any 
 other people, how would it influence your notion of human nature? 
 
 4. Is pity a state of pleasure ? 
 
 5. How does the quotation from Fiske illustrate the difficulties of 
 the inferential method ? 
 
 1 For a brief explanation of some varieties of the inferential method, 
 see Appendix B.
 
 LESSON X. 
 
 NECESSARY TRUTHS AND NECESSARY BELIEFS. 
 
 WE would all agree that Geometry does right to state 
 its axioms at the beginning. All its demonstrations depend 
 upon 'them, and therefore it is proper that they should 
 receive our attention at the outset. 
 
 What we can Learn by Means of the Introspective 
 Method. For similar reasons it is important for us to 
 ascertain as clearly as possible what we can learn by 
 means of the introspective method. Since the introspec- 
 tive and the inferential methods are the only methods of 
 studying mental facts, and since the inferential is based 
 on the introspective, what we learn by means of the intro- 
 spective method lies at the foundation of our knowledge 
 of mind. If you were building a house, you would be 
 especially careful about the foundation. You would want 
 it all strong and well made, but you would take particular 
 pains to see that there was no flaw in the foundation. No 
 matter how strong and fine and beautiful the rest of the 
 house might be, you would feel that if the foundation was 
 weak the whole thing might come tumbling down about 
 you any day. So it behooves us to look carefully to the 
 foundation of our knowledge of mind, and therefore to 
 ascertain precisely what kind of knowledge we have of the 
 
 86
 
 INTROSPECTIVE METHOD. 87 
 
 facts known to us through introspection, and what we can 
 learn by means of it. 
 
 But the knowledge gained by introspection so closely 
 resembles another kind of knowledge that the two are 
 liable to be confused, unless at the outset the latter is 
 clearly explained. To this end permit me, in imagination, 
 to talk with you about some familiar matters. 
 
 " Have you ever seen a stick with but one end, or a 
 white crow ? " 
 
 " No," you answer. 
 
 " Do you think it possible that you ever will ? " 
 
 " Possible to see a white crow ? Certainly there is no 
 impossibility in that. I know no reason why a bird might 
 not exist like the crow in every respect except the color 
 of its feathers. But a stick with one end ? That is not 
 merely an impossibility ; it is an absurdity. You can not 
 even assert its existence." 
 
 " Pardon me, but I think you are mistaken. ' This stick 
 has but one end.' Have I not asserted its existence ? " 
 
 " Apparently, but not really. You have indeed strung 
 a lot of words together in the form of a sentence a sen- 
 tence to which I have no objection on the score of gram- 
 mar. But there is one fatal objection to it : it does not 
 mean anything." 
 
 " Does not mean anything ? I do not understand you." 
 
 " Your statement does not express any action of the 
 mind. All sentences that mean anything are expressions 
 of thought. But when you say, ' This stick has but one 
 end,' you have simply used your organs of speech ; you 
 have not thought anything. I might teach a parrot to say, 
 ' Kant's arguments in defense of the antinomies of human 
 reason have never been refuted.' But what would those
 
 88 NECESSARY TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. 
 
 words mean in the mouth of a parrot ? Nothing, and that 
 is all you mean when you assert the existence of a one- 
 ended stick." 
 
 "Possibly I am stupid, but I really do not see why." 
 For this very simple reason : The word ' stick ' means 
 a thing that has two ends. When, therefore, you say, ' This 
 stick has but one end,' it is equivalent to saying, 'This 
 two-ended thing has but one end ; this thing, which has 
 two ends, has but one end.' Now it is easy enough to say 
 that, but impossible to think it, is it not ? " 
 
 " I see that it is. A thing can not have two ends and 
 but one end at the same time ; it can not both be and 
 not be." 
 
 Necessary Truths. This is an example of what meta- 
 physicians call necessary truths 1 "a truth or law the 
 opposite of which is inconceivable, contradictory, nonsensi- 
 cal, impossible." 3 A little reflection will enable us to 
 think of many others. Two straight lines can not inclose 
 a space ; two -j- three = five ; these are examples of neces- 
 sary truths because the opposite of each of them is incon- 
 ceivable, contradictory, nonsensical, impossible. If two 
 straight lines could inclose a space, they could be straight 
 and crooked at the same time ; if two -\- three could be 
 more or less than five, it could be itself and not itself at 
 the same time, which is absurd, contradictory, impossible. 
 
 To determine whether a proposition expresses a neces- 
 sary truth or not, we must see if we can put any meaning 
 into the proposition which contradicts it. But in apply- 
 ing the test we must be on our guard against confusing 
 
 1 These are sometimes called intuitions. 
 a Terrier's Institutes of Metaphysics, p. 20.
 
 NECESSARY BELIEFS. 89 
 
 putting a meaning into the subject and predicate 
 ting a meaning into the proposition. " This square is 
 round." Here both subject and predicate bring up familiar 
 ideas. But a moment's reflection enables us to see that 
 the intelligibleness of the subject and predicate is a very 
 different thing from the intelligibleness of the proposition. 
 For if the square is round, it is itself and not itself at the 
 same time, which is unthinkable and impossible. 
 
 Necessary Beliefs. Let us now turn our attention to 
 a class of propositions that, at first sight, look very much 
 like necessary truths, but which, nevertheless, are funda- 
 mentally different. You go to your room on a cold winter 
 morning and begin to build a fire. " Why do you build a 
 fire?" I ask. "Because it is cold." " What makes you 
 think that a fire will make it warmer ? " " Because it did 
 so yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that 
 because it always has done so in the past." "But what 
 has the past to do with the present and the future ? How 
 do you know that things will behave in the future as they 
 have done in the past?" I can not answer the question ; 
 I do not believe any one can. The past, as Bain says, is 
 separated from the future by a chasm which no resources 
 of logic will ever enable us to bridge. 1 
 
 1 " The most authentic recollection gives only what has been, some- 
 thing that has ceased and can concern us no longer. A far more perilous 
 leap remains, the leap to the future. All our interest is concentrated on 
 what is yet to be ; the present and the past are of value only as a clue to 
 the events that are to come. 
 
 " The postulate that we are in quest of must carry us across the gulf, 
 from the experienced known, either present or remembered, to the unex- 
 perienced and unknown must perform the leap of real inference. ' Water 
 has quenched our thirst in the past ; by what assumption do we affirm
 
 90 NECESSARY TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. 
 
 But while we "can give no reason or evidence" that 
 "what has been will be," that things will behave in the 
 future as they have done in the past under precisely simi- 
 lar circumstances, the peculiar fact is that we do not want 
 any. When we know that a thing has happened in the 
 past, we are entirely sure that it will, under similar cir- 
 cumstances, in the future so sure that we can not help 
 believing it even if we would. 
 
 Necessity of Necessary Truths and Necessary Beliefs. 
 This is one of the reasons why we may properly call 
 such beliefs necessary the fact that we can not rid our- 
 selves of them. But while they share this characteristic 
 of inevitableness or necessity with necessary truths, the 
 necessity in the two cases is of a very different character. 
 The necessity of necessary truths is a necessity of seeing; 
 the necessity of necessary beliefs is a necessity of believ- 
 ing. We know with absolute certainty that two straight 
 lines can not inclose a space ; we believe with irresistible 
 strength of conviction that what has been will be, under 
 similar circumstances not that it must be. We can not 
 even think of two straight lines inclosing a space ; we can 
 very easily think of this orderly universe becoming a chaos 
 in which there would be an utter absence of law and order, 
 in which combustion would be followed by heat one day, 
 cold another, and so on. The necessity, then, of necessary 
 beliefs is a necessity of belief, not of knowledge. We do 
 
 that the same will happen in the future ? ' Experience does not teach us 
 this ; experience is only what has actually been ; and after ever so many 
 repetitions of a thing there still remains the peril of venturing upon the 
 untrodden land of future possibility. What has been will be,' justifies 
 the inference that water will assuage thirst in after-times. We can give 
 no reason or evidence for this uniformity." Bain's Logic, p. 671.
 
 NECESSITY OF TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. Ql 
 
 not know, strictly speaking, that the thing we believe so 
 firmly is true, but we believe it with irresistible strength 
 of conviction, notwithstanding. 
 
 Some of our necessary beliefs for instance, the one 
 we have been considering have another kind of necessity. 
 If we did not assume that the past would enable us to 
 judge of the future, all rational action would be impossible. 
 Take that belief from the minds of men, and their rational 
 activities would cease as suddenly as though they had 
 been transformed into stone. I eat when I am hungry, 
 drink when I am thirsty, rest when I am tired do every- 
 thing which I do under the influence of that belief so 
 far as my actions have any rational basis. The farmer 
 sows, the mechanic builds, the lawyer prepares his brief, 
 the doctor writes his prescription, because each thinks 
 that a knowledge of the past enables him to anticipate 
 the future more or less accurately. 
 
 The principle, then, that what has been will be, is 
 necessary not only in the sense that we can not get rid of 
 it, but also in the sense that we must believe it in order to 
 live in the world. If a being were born in the world 
 destitute of the tendency or predisposition to accept the 
 past as in some sense a type of the future, he would 
 necessarily perish. 
 
 Of necessary beliefs of this class it is absurd to raise 
 the question as to their truth. Though we are not pre- 
 vented from questioning them by the very nature of our 
 minds as in the case of necessary truths still, if we 
 must accept them in order to act and live, the possibility 
 of questioning them will remain a bare possibility. 
 
 But if we have beliefs that are necessary in the sense 
 that we can not get rid of them, but not in the sense that
 
 92 NECESSARY TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. 
 
 we must accept them because of their practical importance, 
 it is evident that the question as to their truth is altogether 
 in order. A dozen different branches of science physics, 
 chemistry, physiology, astronomy, etc., as well as Psychol- 
 ogy have shown us very clearly that many of the things 
 which seem to be true and which continue to seem to 
 be after we know they are not are false. The sun still 
 seems to rise and set, although we know it does not. To 
 call a halt to investigation, therefore, on the threshold of 
 necessary beliefs of this character would amount to an 
 attempt to protect Error against the assaults of Truth. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What is the relation between the introspective and inferential 
 methods ? 
 
 2. Why is it important for us to learn what we are conscious of ? 
 
 3. State the difference between a necessary truth and a necessary 
 belief. 
 
 4. Can you doubt a necessary belief ? 
 
 5. What are the two classes of necessary beliefs ? 
 
 6. Can you question the truth of a necessary belief ? 
 
 7. What is the difference in meaning between questions four and 
 six? 
 
 , SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Make as complete a list as you can of what you regard as 
 necessary truths. 
 
 2. What do you suppose the phrase, entertain the idea," orig- 
 inally meant? 
 
 3- You believe many things because, as you say, you remember 
 them. Are the assertions of memory examples of necessary truths, 
 or necessary beliefs, or neither ? 
 
 4- What does Bain mean by the "leap of real inference "?
 
 QUESTIONS. 93 
 
 5. Mention some other necessary beliefs besides the one spoken 
 of in the lesson. 
 
 6. Mention some that are necessary in the sense that we can not 
 help believing them, but not necessary in the sense that the nature 
 of the world compels us to assume them. 
 
 7. Mention some things that seem to us to be true, although 
 science has shown that they are not. 
 
 8. What is meant by the " uniformity of nature " ?
 
 LESSON XI. 
 
 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF ? 
 
 THE object of the last lesson was to make clear the 
 distinction between necessary truths and necessary beliefs. 
 I tried to show that there are truths that the mind must 
 see when it clearly grasps the subject and predicate of the 
 proposition that expresses them. But the mind by no 
 means inevitably sees all the necessary truths it is capable 
 of seeing, because there are subjects and predicates that 
 are beyond its grasp at certain stages of its development, 
 and others that it might grasp, but which, as a matter of 
 fact, it has not grasped. " Seven plus five makes twelve " 
 is a necessary truth. But the child does not see it, because 
 he can not grasp seven and five. A necessary truth, then, 
 is not a truth that the mind must see, but. one which, 
 when seen, is seen to be necessary. 
 
 Necessary beliefs resemble necessary truths in that we 
 are not only willing, but, in a measure, forced to believe 
 them, in the absence of reason and evidence. Indeed, we 
 are certain both of necessary truths and necessary beliefs ; 
 but our certainty differs widely in the two cases. In the 
 one, it is a certainty of knowledge ; in the other, of belief. 
 Moreover, the necessity of necessary beliefs, unlike that 
 of necessary truths, is not in all cases absolutely unyield- 
 ing in its nature. When we look through an opera-glass 
 
 94
 
 NATURE OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 95 
 
 we can not help seeming to see the object much nearer 
 than it really is. Such irresistible "seemings" we call 
 beliefs until, we learn that they are false, but no longer. 
 This is one of a multitude of instances in which what 
 seems to be true is directly opposed to what we know to 
 be true. It would appear, therefore, only a matter of com- 
 mon prudence to accept as true only those necessary 
 beliefs which we can not get along without. 
 
 Reasons for Studying the Nature of Necessary 
 Truths. Necessary truths, necessary beliefs, and what 
 we are conscious of, then, constitute the foundation of 
 everything we know and believe, not only about mind, 
 but about the world in general. Now that we know what 
 necessary truths and necessary beliefs are, it will be com- 
 paratively easy for us to determine the kind of knowledge 
 that consciousness is, and the kinds of facts of which we 
 are conscious. If we had attempted to learn what con- 
 sciousness is before making a study of necessary truths, 
 there would have been great danger of our confusing the 
 knowledge of the facts that we are conscious of, with the 
 knowledge of necessary truths. 
 
 Nature of Conscious Knowledge. Let us first try to 
 ascertain what that kind of knowledge is that we call con- 
 scious knowledge. For to ask what kind of facts we are 
 conscious of is to ask what we know in precisely the same 
 way, with the same kind and degree of certainty, that we 
 do the facts which every one admits we are conscious of. 
 Every one admits that we are conscious of the mental 
 facts we know by introspection. Evidently, in order to 
 learn whether we are conscious of anything else, we need
 
 96 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? 
 
 to learn whether we know anything else in the same way, 
 and with the same kind and degree of certainty ; we need 
 to learn whether our knowledge of any other facts has the 
 same characteristics as our knowledge of mental facts. 
 When Columbus first came to this country, if he had been 
 told that certain animals that he saw were buffaloes, he 
 would have had to learn their characteristics in order to 
 be able to recognize buffaloes when he saw them again. 
 Knowing their characteristics, he would have been able to 
 recognize a buffalo as easily as a horse or dog. In like 
 manner, since we are conscious of those facts which we 
 have agreed to call mental facts, we have to learn the 
 characteristics of our knowledge of mental facts, in order 
 to learn whether we are conscious of anything else. For 
 if our knowledge of anything else has the same character- 
 istics as our conscious knowledge, it also must be conscious 
 knowledge. What, then, are the characteristics of the 
 kind of knowledge that every one admits to be conscious 
 knowledge ? 
 
 Have you ever been in pain ? Suppose that, while you 
 were writhing in agony, some one had asked you if you 
 were sure you had any pain. How do you think you 
 would have answered the question if, indeed, you had 
 possessed the patience to answer it at all ? You would 
 have said, I think, that your certainty was so great that it 
 could be no greater. Put so much water into a glass, and 
 not another drop, not an atom more can you make it hold. 
 So, you would have said, certainty beyond or greater than 
 yours it was impossible for any conscious being to have. 
 " But may you not be deceived may not your pain be a 
 mere illusion, like the experiences of your dreams ? " your 
 questioner might have asked. Deceived as to being in
 
 DIFFERENCE OF KNOWLEDGE. 97 
 
 pain, when I am literally writhing in agony ? No ! I know 
 it so absolutely that I know that I can not be mistaken. 
 There is much that I believe that I realize I may be mis- 
 taken in. But this is certainty certainty that admits of 
 no doubt- certainty that makes doubt an absurdity and 
 an impossibility." Conscious knowledge, then, is abso- 
 lutely certain knowledge knowledge so certain as to 
 make doubt an absurdity and an impossibility. 
 
 Difference between Knowledge of Necessary Truths 
 and Conscious Knowledge. But this, we have seen, is 
 exactly what the knowledge of necessary truths is. We 
 know that two straight lines can not inclose a space so 
 certainly as to make doubt an absurdity and an impos- 
 sibility. Is there no difference between the knowledge of 
 necessary truths and conscious knowledge ? 
 
 If we compare the attitude of our minds towards a 
 necessary truth with its attitude towards a mental fact, 
 I think we shall see a difference. Two straight lines can 
 not inclose a space. Where ? In England, on the sun, 
 wherever straight lines are, we know that they can not 
 inclose a space. Our knowledge is not of an individual 
 fact, with which the mind seems face to face, but of an 
 entire class of facts, wherever they may exist. But our 
 knowledge of a pain, for example, although it is like our 
 knowledge of a necessary truth in the kind and degree of 
 certainty that it gives us, differs from it in being knowledge 
 of an individual fact with which the mind seems face to 
 face of which the mind seems directly aware. 
 
 Conscious knowledge, then, is absolutely certain knowl- 
 edge of individual facts of which the mind seems directly 
 aware. Instead, then, of asking whether there are any
 
 98 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF ? 
 
 facts except mental facts that we are conscious of, we can 
 put the question in this form : Are there any facts except 
 mental facts with which the mind seems face to face, and 
 which we know with such absolute certainty as to make 
 doubt an absurdity and an impossibility ? 
 
 Are you Conscious of the Stars? Perhaps, some 
 evening shortly after reading this lesson, you will take a 
 walk. As you glance at the stars shining so brightly 
 above you, you think of the subject of the lesson, and ask 
 yourself if you really are conscious of them. Do you, as 
 you see those little twinkling points of light in the heavens 
 above you, know that they exist, so certainly, so absolutely, 
 as to make doubt an impossibility ? 
 
 The fixed stars, as we know, are almost inconceivably 
 far away. They are so far away that astronomers never 
 think of stating their distance in miles. Instead of telling 
 us their distance in miles, they tell us how long it takes 
 light to travel from them to us. Now, light travels about 
 180,000 miles in a second, and the nearest of the fixed 
 stars is so far away that it takes light three years to come 
 from it to us. Suppose, then, that the nearest fixed star 
 had been destroyed two years and a half ago. Would you 
 see it to-night ? Certainly, just as you see any other star ; 
 for the light that strikes your eyes as you look at it left it 
 two years and a half ago six months before it was 
 destroyed. And for the same reason you would see it 
 to-morrow night, and the next, and so on for six months. 
 Night after night for six months you would see the star 
 shining above you, although it did not exist at all. When, 
 then, I ask if you know that the stars exist as you look at 
 them, evidently the most you can say is that they do,
 
 THE OBJECTS ABOUT YOU. 99 
 
 unless they have been destroyed since the light left them 
 by which you now see them. But if that is your answer, 
 you can not say that you know that they exist so absolutely 
 as to make doubt an impossibility, for you do not know 
 that they have not been destroyed since the light left them 
 which enables you to see them. Therefore you are not 
 conscious of them. 
 
 Are you Conscious of the Objects about you ? 
 
 " But at any rate," perhaps you will say, " I am conscious 
 of the objects about me. I take a walk, and I see the 
 beautiful bouquets of autumn adorning the hill-sides. I see 
 the fields stretching out before me, and here and there a 
 farmer busy at work. As I mark how the leaves of the 
 hedge were nipped by last night's frost, a rabbit suddenly 
 leaps from under my feet, and I wish for my gun as he 
 fairly flies away from me. Surely," you will say, "you 
 will admit that I am conscious of these things." 
 
 Are you ? Put the question to yourself. Ask yourself 
 if you know that these things exist so absohitely that doubt 
 is an impossibility. Do you like hunting ? If so, I am 
 sure you have dreamed of standing behind a trusty pointer, 
 gun in hand, ready to take the first quail that made its 
 appearance above the weeds. And while you are in the 
 midst of your excitement you awake perhaps to find that 
 you have neither dog nor gun to find that you have been 
 hunting only in a dream. " What of it ? " you ask. This : 
 A certainty quite as great as indeed indistinguishable 
 from your waking certainties proved untrustworthy ; 
 may not your waking certainties be unreliable ? You will 
 not, of course, imagine that I doubt that I see and hear 
 the various things which I seem to see and hear, or that
 
 I0 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? 
 
 I am trying to make you doubt them. I am simply trying 
 to show that you do not know them with the same absolute 
 certainty that you do the mental facts of your experience, 
 and that, therefore, you are not conscious of them. 
 
 Strongest Argument that we are not Conscious of 
 External Objects. But these arguments, conclusive as 
 they seem to me, are not the considerations which are 
 entitled to most weight. Simply by looking into my own 
 mind, I know that I do not know the existence of the 
 objects about me with the same kind and degree of cer- 
 tainty that I do the mental facts I am conscious of, and 
 therefore I know that I am not conscious of them. 
 
 Look carefully into your experience, and you will see 
 that the only facts which you know with absolute certainty 
 are the facts of your own mental life. You will need no 
 arguments to prove that you can not have absolute knowl- 
 edge of any other individual facts you will see that you 
 do not so clearly as to make argument superfluous. But 
 if you do not, permit me to ask you to hold your judgment 
 in suspense until you have had more experience in the 
 study of mental facts. You would take the opinion of a 
 sailor as to the character of a distant object at sea in 
 preference to your own, simply because of his more ex- 
 tended experience. Inasmuch as trained psychologists, 
 almost without exception, contend that we are not con- 
 scious of the objects about us, I ask you to hold your judg- 
 ment in suspense until you have studied the subject long 
 enough to give you a right to an opinion. 
 
 Not Conscious of our own Bodies. It seems to me 
 equally clear that we are not conscious of our own bodies.
 
 QUESTIONS. IOI 
 
 A man with an amputated limb often feels pain in the 
 amputated member, exactly as he does in any other part 
 of the body. But he can not be conscious of the ampu- 
 tated limb. You admit that. You admit that a man can 
 not be conscious of a leg that has been buried for months. 
 Well, if he seems to be conscious of the amputated mem- 
 ber and is not, he has no reason to believe that he is con- 
 scious of a member that is not amputated because he seems 
 to be. 
 
 I think we may conclude, therefore, that we know no 
 other individual facts with the same kind and degree of 
 certainty that we do the facts of which we are conscious ; 
 and that, therefore, we are conscious of nothing else. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What is the foundation of all we know and believe? 
 
 2. What is the difference between our knowledge of a necessary 
 truth and our knowledge of a mental fact ? 
 
 3. Are you conscious of the stars ? Of the objects about you ? 
 Of your own body ? 
 
 4. Give your reasons for your answers. 
 
 5. If you believe that you are not conscious of anything except 
 mental facts, state what you regard as the strongest reason for your 
 opinion. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1 . Give examples of necessary truths that are beyond the grasp 
 of a savage. 
 
 2. How do you account for the effect of looking at an object 
 through an opera-glass ? 
 
 3. What is the difference between real pain and imaginary pain ?
 
 IO2 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? 
 
 4. " In this wonder-world a dream is 
 
 Our whole life and all its changes, 
 All we seem to be and do 
 Is a dream and fancy too. 
 Briefly, on this earthen ball 
 Dreaming that we're living all." 
 What part of these assertions do you know to be false ? 
 
 5. How do you account for the fact that a man often feels pain 
 in an amputated limb ?
 
 LESSON XII. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 Sensation and Attention. We have seen that conscious 
 knowledge is that knowledge which we have of those men- 
 tal facts which we know directly. We have learned also 
 that there are mental facts of which we are not conscious. 
 You remember the example a student intent upon a 
 book and not hearing the clock strike till a moment after. 
 What is the explanation of such facts ? The attention of 
 the student was so fixed upon this book his entire con- 
 sciousness was so concentrated upon it that there was no 
 consciousness left for the sensation. Thus the sensations 
 of which vve are conscious depend tipon attention. In his 
 Mental Physiology, Carpenter gives some remarkable 
 examples of this. For instance : " Before the introduction 
 of chloroform, patients sometimes went through severe 
 operations without giving any sign of pain, and afterwards 
 declared that they felt none : having concentrated their 
 thoughts, by a powerful effort of abstraction, on some 
 subject which held them engaged throughout." "The 
 writer has frequently begun a lecture, whilst suffering 
 neuralgic pain so severe as to make him apprehend that 
 he would find it impossible to proceed ; yet no sooner has 
 he, by a determined effort, fairly launched himself into 
 the stream of thought than he has found himself continu- 
 
 103
 
 IO4 ATTENTION. 
 
 ously borne along without the least distraction until the 
 end has come, and the attention has been released ; when 
 the pain has recurred with a force that has overmastered 
 all resistance, making him wonder how he could have ever 
 ceased to feel it." A similar experience in the case of Sir 
 Walter Scott is thus recorded by his biographer : " John 
 Ballantyne (whom Scott, while suffering under a prolonged 
 and painful illness, employed as his amanuensis) told me 
 that, though Scott often turned himself on his pillow with 
 a groan of torment, he usually continued the sentence in 
 the same breath. But when dialogue of peculiar animation 
 was in progress, spirit seemed to triumph altogether over 
 matter he arose from his couch, and walked up and 
 down the room, raising and lowering his voice, and, as it 
 were, acting the parts. It was in this fashion that Scott 
 produced the far greater portion of the Bride of Lammer- 
 inoor, the whole of the Legend of Montr ose, and almost 
 the whole of Ivan hoc." 
 
 Perception and Attention. What we perceive depends 
 upon attention. Let a botanist and a geologist take the 
 same walk and the botanist will see the flowers, and 
 the geologist the rocks, because each sees what he attends 
 to. The next time you take a walk go along the most 
 familiar road in your neighborhood, and see if you can not 
 discover something new to you some tree or shed that 
 has been there all the time. I have often had that expe- 
 rience. The reason is that these unperceived objects were 
 not attended to. 
 
 Memory and Attention. What we remember depends 
 upon what we attend to. Have you ever thought of it ?
 
 RECOLLECTION AND ATTENTION. 1 05 
 
 Most of our past lives is a perfect Sahara of forgetfulness 
 blank, bleak, barren swallowed up in oblivion. But 
 here and there gleam little green spots of memory, little 
 oases in the midst of the mighty desert of the past. How 
 is this? The things which we remember are the things 
 which we attend to. Talk to an old man about his past 
 life, and you will find that the events of the last year he 
 but dimly remembers ; but when he speaks of his boy- 
 hood, the incidents of the time crowd themselves upon 
 him as though they had happened but yesterday. In 
 that far-off happy time, when his heart was light and his 
 mind was free from care, the most trivial events received 
 a degree of attention sufficient to stamp them on his 
 memory forever. 
 
 Recollection and Attention. What we recollect 
 depends upon what we attend to. (Recollecting is remem- 
 bering by an effort of will. All recollecting is remember- 
 ing, but all remembering is not recollecting. Recollecting 
 is a kind of remembering.) What do you do when you 
 try to recall the name of a friend which has slipped your 
 memory for the moment ? You think of attend to the 
 thought of how he looks, of his dress, of some peculiarity 
 in his manner, of the first letter of his name, of some place 
 where you saw him, of something connected with him 
 until, by and by, his name flashes into your mind. All 
 you did, you notice, was to attend to certain thoughts in 
 your mind. 
 
 Reasoning and Attention. What conclusions you 
 reach depends upon what you attend to. To Newton, 
 sitting in his garden, the fall of an apple suggested the
 
 I0 6 ATTENTION. 
 
 law of gravitation. Why ? Because he fixed his attention 
 upon the resemblance between the fall of the apple from 
 the tree and the revolution of the moon around the earth. 
 The chief difference between the man of great reasoning 
 powers and the ordinary man is that the former notices 
 remote resemblances resemblances that escape the atten- 
 tion of the latter. 
 
 Feeling and Attention. What we feel depends upon 
 attention. The same author already quoted from (Car- 
 penter) gives some remarkable illustrations of this : The 
 celebrated German mathematician, Gauss, while engaged 
 in one of his most profound investigations, was interrupted 
 by a servant, who told him that his wife (to whom he was 
 known to be deeply attached, and who was suffering from 
 a severe illness) was worse. " He seemed to hear what 
 was said, but either he did not comprehend it or imme- 
 diately forgot it, and went on with his work. After some 
 little time, the servant came again to say that his mistress 
 was much worse, and to beg that he would come to her at 
 once ; to which he replied : ' I will come presently.' Again 
 he relapsed into his previous train of thought, entirely for- 
 getting the intention he had expressed, most probably 
 without having distinctly realized to himself the import 
 either of the communication or of his answer to it. For 
 not long afterwards when the servant came again and 
 assured him that his mistress was dying, and that if he did 
 not come immediately he would probably not find her 
 alive, he lifted up his head and calmly replied : ' Tell her 
 to wait until I come ' - - a message he had doubtless often 
 before sent when pressed by his wife's request for his 
 presence while he was similarly engaged."
 
 VOLITION AND ATTENTION. 107 
 
 Volition and Attention. What we will likewise de- 
 pends upon attention. Suppose a boy has a lesson to get, 
 and another boy invites him to go fishing. Will he go or 
 will he stay and get his lesson ? That depends on what 
 he attends to. If he allows his mind to dwell on the fun 
 he will have, if he does not permit himself to think of the 
 consequences of neglecting his work, he will go. But if 
 he keeps his mind firmly fixed on the consequences ; if he 
 vividly realizes the displeasure of his parents, the disappro- 
 bation of his teacher, the probability of losing his place in 
 his class, he will stay. 
 
 Importance of the Part Played by Attention in our 
 Mental Life. This brief survey will enable us to form 
 some idea of the importance of the part which attention 
 plays in our mental life. I think you see that the chief 
 difference between the educated and the uneducated man 
 is the greater capacity of the former for close, continuous, 
 concentrated attention. Some writers indeed have gone 
 so far as to say that genius depends entirely on the power 
 to concentrate the attention. Newton thought that the 
 sole difference between himself and ordinary men consisted 
 in his greater power of attention. This, I think, is an 
 exaggeration. But however this may be, I think that the 
 importance of training the attention can scarcely be over- 
 estimated. 
 
 Training of Attention. How can we train the atten- 
 tion of our pupils ? Precisely as we cultivate any other 
 power of their minds by getting them to attend. Our 
 pupils learn to observe by observing, and to think by 
 thinking, and to attend by attending. We never make
 
 IO8 ATTENTION. 
 
 the mistake of assuming that our pupils have a high 
 degree of reasoning power when they first go to school, 
 that they are capable of solving difficult problems in 
 arithmetic, or understanding abstract statements in gram- 
 mar ; and it is just as absurd for us to suppose that 
 they are capable of continuous attention, and yet we 
 are prone to do that. "Because people are attentive 
 when strong interest is roused" says Edward Thring 
 "there is a common idea that attention is natural, 
 and inattention a culpable fault. But the boy's mind is 
 much like a frolicking puppy, always in motion, restless, 
 but never in the same position two minutes together, when 
 really awake. Naturally his body partakes of this unsettled 
 character. Attention is a lesson to be learned, and quite 
 as much a matter of training as any other lesson. A teacher 
 will be saved much useless friction if he acknowledges this 
 fact, and instead of expecting attention which he will not 
 get, starts at once with the intention of teaching it." How 
 can he teach it ? That question is of the utmost impor- 
 tance for us to be able to answer. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Show (a) that the sensations of which we are conscious depend 
 upon attention ; (b) that what we perceive depends upon attention ; 
 (c) that what we remember depends upon attention ; (cf) that what 
 we recollect depends upon attention ; (e) that what we believe de- 
 pends upon attention ; (/) that what we feel depends upon attention ; 
 (g) that what we will depends upon attention. 
 
 2. Illustrate your answers from your own experience. 
 
 3. Illustrate the difference between remembering and recollecting. 
 
 4. How is the power of attention to be acquired ?
 
 QUESTIONS. IO9 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. "The botanist sees much in a plant; the horse-dealer in a 
 horse ; the musician hears much in a piece of orchestral music, of 
 whose presence in the sense-perception the layman has no idea. 
 From the same story each hearer interprets something different; out 
 of the same laws each party interprets its right; the same turn of 
 battle is proclaimed by both armies as a victory ; out of the same 
 book of nature the different readers, men and people, have gathered 
 the most diverse things." (Volkmann.) How would you explain 
 these facts ? 
 
 2. Account for the truth embodied in the proverb, "There are 
 none so blind as those that won't see." 
 
 3. Account for the use of mind in the following sentence : " I 
 can't put my mind on anything to-day."
 
 LESSON XIII. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 (Continued.] 
 
 IN the last lesson I tried to make it clear that our entire 
 mental life is controlled by attention, in order that we may 
 realize that the beginning of teaching is getting the atten- 
 tion of our pupils, and that the end of education is the 
 developing of powers of attention, and directing those 
 powers into right channels. An inattentive mind is an 
 absent mind ; and, as Thring remarks, a teacher " might 
 as well stand up and solemnly set about giving a lesson to 
 the clothes of the class, whilst the owners were playing 
 cricket, as to the so-called class " if they were inattentive. 
 Moreover, as the character of the mind depends upon the 
 things it attends to and the manner in which it attends to 
 them, evidently the object of education is to develop the 
 power of attending to the right things in the right way. 
 
 Definition of Attention. But what is attention ? 
 When you are reading an interesting book, you are scarcely 
 conscious, if at all, of the sensations of pressure produced 
 by your chair ; carriages and wagons are clattering along 
 the street, but you do not note them ; various objects are 
 directly before you, but you do not see them. Indeed, you 
 are but dimly conscious of the sensations produced by the 
 very type of the book you are reading. But the thoughts 
 
 no
 
 TWO KINDS OF ATTENTION. I I I 
 
 called to your mind by your book stand out clearly and 
 conspicuously in your consciousness every feature, as it 
 were, sharply denned. The act of the mind by which 
 certain facts in our experience are thus emphasized and 
 made prominent is called attention. Attention, then, may 
 be defined as that act of the mind by which we bring into 
 clear consciousness any subject or object before the mind. 
 When you say to your pupils, " Give me your attention," 
 you mean that you want them to stop thinking of the 
 game they played at recess, of the book they read last 
 night, of everything except what you are saying. 1 
 
 Two Kinds of Attention. Making another study of 
 our experience, we find that there are two kinds of atten- 
 tion. You are reading a difficult and not very interesting 
 book, when some one in the next room begins to sing your 
 favorite song. You do your best to keep your attention 
 on your book, but your mind wanders to the song in spite 
 of you. Or you go to a lecture just after reading a letter 
 that contained some very good news. You try to listen to 
 the lecture, but the thought of the letter persists in drag- 
 ging your mind away. In both these cases you are con- 
 
 1 " Clear consciousness may be thought as the circle of those concepts " 
 experiences "upon which attention rests. Experience shows us that 
 this circle, like the pupil of the eye, can be extended or contracted within 
 certain rather wide limits. The greatest narrowing occurs when we con- 
 centrate our attention upon a single object as, for example, when we 
 become absorbed in thought, or narrowly observe an outward phenom- 
 enon ; the greatest extension takes place when we widen the bounds of 
 the narrow consciousness to its greatest extent, in which case there would 
 be really no concentration of mind and no attention. It is apparent that 
 the width of the circle is indirectly proportioned to the clearness of its 
 single points i.e., that our attention is so much the less intensive the 
 more extensive it is." Lindner's Psychology, p. 13.
 
 112 ATTENTION. 
 
 scious of two very different kinds of attention attention 
 depending upon the will, or voluntary attention, and atten- 
 tion independent of the will, or non-voluntary attention. 
 
 We can see the difference between them more clearly, 
 perhaps, if we bear in mind that, in the case of non-volun- 
 tary attention, there is but one thing that influences the 
 mind the thing attended to ; while in voluntary attention 
 there are two the thing attended to and some reason or 
 motive for attending to it. When you listen to a song 
 simply because you like it, you attend involuntarily ; when 
 you keep your mind fixed upon a book by an effort of will, 
 you attend voluntarily. In the first case, there are but 
 two things concerned your mind and the song ; in the 
 second, there are three your mind and the book, and 
 some reason or motive for attending to it. In the first 
 case, you attend because of the attraction which the song 
 has for your mind directly; in the second, you attend not 
 because of any attraction which the book has for your 
 mind, but because of its relation to something else that 
 attracts you directly, as the desire to improve. Non-volun- 
 tary attention, then, is that attention which results from 
 the influence exerted upon the mind by the thing attended 
 to, in and of itself; voluntary attention is that which 
 results from the influence exerted upon the mind, not by 
 the thing attended to, but by the knowledge of its relation 
 to something else that attracts the mind in and of itself. 
 
 Conditions of Voluntary Attention. It is evident 
 that voluntary attention is impossible without some variety 
 of experience and some mental development. To attend 
 voluntarily, we must perceive relations ; and to perceive 
 relations, the mind must have had experience, and must
 
 CHILDREN AND VOLUNTARY ATTENTION. 113 
 
 be developed enough to interpret that experience. A bath 
 may, almost from the beginning, give a child pleasant 
 sensations. But his mind must be developed enough to 
 perceive the relations between the preparations for his 
 bath and the bath before the sight of the former can give 
 him pleasure. Moreover, it is evident that the child must 
 not only have had experience of relations in order to regard 
 one thing as the sign of another ; he must have not only 
 some development of intellect to be able to connect things 
 together, but also .some development of his capacity for 
 feeling, in order to be able to form ideas of things desir- 
 able in themselves. When the child is able to form the 
 idea of a thing desirable in itself, and to see the connec- 
 tion between such a thing and something undesirable, the 
 latter begins to be interesting because of its relation to the 
 former the conditions of voluntary attention exist. 
 
 Very Young Children Incapable of Voluntary Atten- 
 tion. This analysis of the circumstances under which 
 voluntary attention is possible prepares us to anticipate 
 what observation confirms that very young children are 
 incapable of voluntary attention. Indeed, it seems prob- 
 able that in the first days of a child's life there is no atten- 
 tion of any kind. 
 
 Mental Life of Very Young Children. The mental 
 life of a new-born child seems to consist of a mass of con- 
 fused sensations, none of them coming into clear and dis- 
 tinct consciousness, because none of them are attended to. 
 But the quality of some of its sensations, their character 
 as pleasant or painful, causes the sensations that possess it 
 to be emphasized in the child's experience. Bain well says
 
 114 ATTENTION. 
 
 that "enjoyment, immediate and incessant, is a primary 
 vocation of the infant mind." 
 
 Two Causes of Non-voluntary Attention. " In the 
 presence of the more enjoyable, the less enjoyable is dis- 
 regarded." "Attention lasts so long as enjoyment lasts, 
 and no longer." 1 So far as a child is under the influence 
 of pleasure alone, these statements are true without quali- 
 fication. But pain has fully as strong a hold on attention 
 as pleasure. Moreover, as the same author remarks, " In- 
 tensity of sensation, whether pleasant or not, is a power." 
 A bright light, a loud noise, "take the attention by storm." 
 But in considering the effect of intensity of sensations 
 upon attention, we must bear in mind that the greater 
 their relative intensity the greater, in other words, the 
 contrast between the sensation and the other experiences 
 of the child the stronger will be its influence in attract- 
 ing his attention. A remark made in an ordinary tone, for 
 example, when it breaks in upon absolute stillness, will 
 attract attention more strongly than one made in a very 
 loud tone in the midst of noise and confusion. 
 
 Under the influence of these two causes the quality 
 of sensations or their character as pleasurable or painful 
 and their intensity, absolute and relative, the child's power 
 of attention develops with wonderful rapidity. 
 
 As long as he is capable only of non-voluntary attention, 
 he is at the mercy of his impressions. As the course of a 
 stream depends upon the slope of the ground, so the direc- 
 tion of his attention depends upon the attractiveness of his 
 sensations. 
 
 1 Bain's Education as a Science, p. 179.
 
 POWER OF VOLUNTARY ATTENTION. 115 
 
 How the Power of Voluntary Attention is Developed. 
 
 But the exercise of non-voluntary attention develops the 
 power to attend voluntarily. Every exercise of non-volun- 
 tary attention makes that kind of attention easier. Sensa- 
 tions less and less intense sensations whose pleasurable 
 or painful character is less and less pronounced have 
 power to attract it, in accordance with the universal law of 
 the mind that exercise develops power. While the child's 
 power of non-voluntary attention is in this way increasing, 
 his growing experience is leading him to form ideas of 
 things he desires, and to perceive the relation between the 
 things that give him pleasure and the means of gratifying 
 his desires. When this relation is clearly perceived, all 
 the conditions of voluntary attention exist. 
 
 Probably the first exercise of distinctively voluntary 
 attention usually occurs when the child is from three to 
 six months old. 
 
 Experiment upon a Child. Professor Preyer reports 
 an instructive experiment made by Professor Lindner upon 
 his little daughter, twenty-six weeks old, which experiment 
 proves conclusively that the child was exercising voluntary 
 attention : 
 
 "While the child, at this age, was taking milk as she lay 
 in the cradle, the bottle took such a slant that she could not 
 get anything to suck. She now tried to direct the bottle 
 with her feet, and finally raised it by means of them so dex- 
 terously that she could drink conveniently. This action was 
 manifestly no imitation ; it can not have depended upon a 
 mere accident ; for when, at the next feeding, the bottle is 
 purposely so placed that the child can not get anything 
 without the help of hands or feet, the same performance
 
 Il6 ATTENTION. 
 
 takes place as before. Then, on the following day, when the 
 child drinks in the same way, I prevent her from doing so 
 by removing her feet from the bottle, but she at once makes 
 use of them again as regulators for the flow of the milk, as 
 dexterously and surely as if the feet were made on purpose 
 for such use. If it follows from this that the child acts 
 with deliberation long before it uses language in the proper 
 sense, it also appears how imperfect and crude the delibera- 
 tion is, for my child drank her milk in this awkward fashion 
 for three whole months, until she at last made the discovery 
 one day that, after all, the hands are much better adapted 
 to service of this sort. I had given strict orders to those 
 about her to let her make this advance of herself." 
 
 What the Experiment Proves. We must not forget 
 to note that the conditions of voluntary attention were 
 completely fulfilled in this case, and that it was only 
 through this that the child's action was possible. If the 
 child had not known by experience the relation between 
 certain movements and the effects of those movements, 
 she would not have been able to attend to those move- 
 ments in themselves uninteresting in order to get 
 hold of her bottle. And if her experience had not enabled 
 her to form an idea of her bottle as a thing that gave her 
 pleasure, it would not have been possible for her to fix her 
 attention upon certain movements as a means of experi- 
 encing that pleasure. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT, 
 t so important for you to know th 
 
 2. Illustrate and define the two kinds of attention. 
 
 I. Why is it so important for you to know the conditions of 
 attention ?
 
 QUESTIONS. 117 
 
 3. State and illustrate the conditions of voluntary attention. 
 
 4. Show that these conditions can not be fulfilled in the case of 
 a very young child. 
 
 5. Describe as clearly as you can the consciousness of a new- 
 born child. 
 
 6. What are the two causes of non-voluntary attention in a child's 
 experience ? 
 
 7. Show how the conditions of voluntary attention are gradually 
 developed. 
 
 8. Analyze the voluntary attention exercised by Prof. Lindner's 
 child for the purpose of showing that the conditions of voluntary 
 attention were fulfilled. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1 . Account for the miser's love of money. 
 
 2. Account for the knowledge of Prof. Lindner's child. 
 
 3. Make a study of any children you know of from two or three 
 months to six or seven years of age in order to ascertain (i) the kind 
 of objects that attract their non-voluntary attention ; and (2) the lines 
 of interests that control their voluntary attention after they are 
 capable of exercising it. 
 
 4. President G. Stanley Hall says: "It is a striking fact that 
 nearly every great teacher in the history of education who has spoken 
 words that have been heeded has lived for years in the closest personal 
 relations to children, and has had the sympathy and tact that gropes 
 out, if it can not see clearly, the laws of juvenile development and 
 lines of childish interests." (a) Who are some of the great teachers 
 of whom he speaks? (b~) In what way do you think their personal 
 relations to children were helpful to them ? (<:) Do you know any 
 important educational questions that can be best solved by a careful 
 and systematic study of children ? (</) Why is it important to know 
 the " laws of juvenile development " ? (e~) Why the lines of childish 
 interests ? 
 
 5. Prof. Preyer's child gazed steadily at his own image in the 
 glass when he was about four months old. Was that a case of volun- 
 tary attention?
 
 LESSON XIV. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 (Continued.} 
 
 COMPAYRE says that the way to teach the child to be 
 attentive is to supply the conditions, of attention. Nothing 
 can be truer. But in order to do this, as he remarks, we 
 need to know what the conditions of attention are. 
 
 To ascertain the conditions of non-voluntary attention 
 was the object of the last lesson. We did, indeed, confine 
 our investigations to the first years of childhood ; but, as 
 G. Stanley Hall remarks, "the living, playing, learning 
 child . . . embodies a truly elementary Psychology." If, 
 then, we were right in concluding that the two laws of 
 non-voluntary attention the two conditions upon which 
 it depends in childhood are the pleasurable or painful 
 character of the child's experiences, and their intensity, 
 we have reason to hope that we know the conditions that 
 we need to supply in order to get non-voluntary attention, 
 no matter what grade of pupils we are dealing with. 
 
 Universal Condition of Non- voluntary Attention. 
 I think we shall be quite sure of this if, pursuing our usual 
 course, we make a study of our own experience and the 
 experience of those about us. Why do you find it easier 
 to listen to a speaker when you can see him than when 
 
 118
 
 NOVELTY A NON-VOLUNTARY ATTENTION. I IQ 
 
 you can not ? Because when you see him you have a 
 much more vivid intense impression of him than you 
 have when you do not. Why is it that to see a dentist 
 extract the tooth of a friend affects you so much more 
 strongly than to think of the same thing ? Because the 
 perception of a person in pain is a much more vivid ex- 
 perience than the thought of one. Why is it that pupils 
 find it so much harder to attend to a teacher who speaks 
 in a drawling, monotonous tone, than to one who speaks in 
 a quick, lively, animated manner ? Because the latter 
 makes more definite impressions upon the mind. The 
 monotonous speaker, moreover, is an unemphatic speaker ; 
 and in the absence of emphasis of impressions having 
 the character of intensity there is nothing to particularly 
 attract our attention to the leading idea, so that it is much 
 harder to learn what that idea is. Why is it that you can 
 remember an argument that you understand so much 
 better than you can one that you do not understand ? 
 Because, when you understand an argument, you perceive 
 the relations between its various parts ; and the perception 
 of relations is a source of pleasure, and therefore a stimulus 
 of attention, and hence a help to memory. 
 
 Novelty a Non- voluntary Attention. It appears, 
 then, that in learning the conditions of non-voluntary 
 attention in the early years of a child's life, we have 
 learned what they are throughout the whole of his life. 
 Some writers speak of novelty as a condition of non- 
 voluntary attention, and under some circumstances it un- 
 doubtedly is. But why ? Because the novel is the unex- 
 plained, and the unexplained excites our curiosity. But 
 curiosity stimulates thought, and the exercise of the power
 
 I2O ATTENTION. 
 
 of thinking, under normal circumstances, is a source of 
 pleasure. In a word, the novel attracts our attention 
 because of the pleasurable character of the experiences 
 connected with it. To prove this, we only need to recall 
 the fact that, when we see a novel thing under such cir- 
 cumstances as not to excite our curiosity, it does not 
 attract our attention. To the mind of a man who knows 
 nothing of machinery, a complicated machine, however 
 novel, offers no attraction. Indeed, a man who knew 
 nothing of machinery would not know, without being told, 
 that a particular machine was novel, unless its new features 
 were of a very striking character. His ignorance of 
 machinery would make it impossible for him to see the 
 difference between the novel machine and those he was in 
 the habit of seeing. If its new features were of such a 
 striking character that he could not fail to notice them, he 
 would regard it with a sort of vague wonder, but not with 
 that keen, active curiosity which is such a powerful stim- 
 ulus to attention. That is why the entirely familiar and 
 the entirely unknown 1 are equally destitute of interest. 
 Neither of them offers to the mind a problem to be solved ; 
 neither of them lures to exertion with the anticipation of a 
 conquest over difficulties. The entirely familiar does not 
 stimulate thought, because it is, or seems to be, the entirely 
 known ; the entirely unknown does not, because it offers to 
 the mind nothing that it can take hold of. It is like a 
 new ball of string, carefully wound up, with the ends so 
 well concealed that there seems no way of beginning to 
 unwind it. 
 
 Of course it will be understood that I use the phrase "entirely un- 
 nown relatively. Strictly speaking, the entirely unknown could not 
 come before the mind at all.
 
 PHYSICAL CONDITION AND ATTENTION. 121 
 
 Physical Condition and Non- voluntary Attention. - 
 
 So, again, the physical conditions of attention are insisted 
 on, and, as we all know by experience, with entire pro- 
 priety. When you are sick or tired, you can not attend 
 as you can when you are well and rested. But why ? 
 Because things do not interest you so much. The rela- 
 tions between body and mind are so close that the mind is 
 incapable of intense interest when the body is exhausted. 
 That attention, then, is strongly influenced by bodily con- 
 ditions is indeed true ; but it is no new law : it is simply a 
 case under the law already considered, that that which 
 Interests us, whether by its pleasurable or painful character, 
 attracts attention. 
 
 We may conclude, then, that we have found what we are 
 in search of, so far as non-voluntary attention is concerned 
 the conditions which we must supply in order to get it. 
 
 Let us now see how the case is altered by voluntary 
 attention. As a matter of experience, how does the will 
 influence attention ? 
 
 Interest and Voluntary Attention. Going to your 
 room, you find a half dozen books on your table. There 
 is Vanity Fair, a volume of Tennyson's poems, Stanley's 
 Dark Continent, Looking- Backward, a history of England, 
 and a text-book on Geometry. Which will you read ? If 
 you were capable only of non-voluntary attention, you 
 would read the one which attracted your attention most 
 strongly. There would be a struggle between competing 
 attractions, and the strongest would win the day. But 
 through the influence of your will you may give your 
 attention to precisely that subject which you like least. 
 You do not like mathematics, but as you are going to be
 
 122 ATTENTION. 
 
 examined in geometry, you begin to study that. Can you 
 keep your attention on it simply by an effort of will? 
 Certainly not. The will simply determines the direction 
 in which the mind looks ; but if it continues to look that 
 way, it must find something to interest it something to 
 attract its non-voluntary attention. The will determines, 
 in this case, that the attention shall be put on geometry ; 
 but if it stays there, it is because the subject develops 
 some interest for the mind stimulates its non-voluntary 
 attention. Sully puts this very clearly : " By an act of will 
 I may resolve to turn my attention to something say a 
 passage in a book. But if, after this preliminary process 
 of adjustment of the mental eye, the object opens up no 
 interesting phase, all the willing in the world will not 
 produce a calm, settled state of concentration. The will 
 introduces mind and object ; it can not force an attach- 
 ment between them. No compulsion of attention ever 
 succeeded in making a young child cordially embrace and 
 appropriate, by an act of concentration, an unsuitable and 
 therefore uninteresting subject. We thus see that volun- 
 tary attention is not removed from the sway of interest. 
 What the will does is to determine the kind of interest 
 that shall prevail at the moment." 
 
 The Will and Voluntary Attention. The last sen- 
 tence states the work done by the will in attention very 
 exactly. It creates no new influence ; it simply determines 
 which of pre-existing influences shall have control over the 
 mind. Co-operating with a pre-existing influence, the will 
 can make a weaker one prevail over a stronger. Without 
 a prevailing influence to work on, the will is as powerless 
 as a lever without a fulcrum.
 
 WILL AND CONCENTRATION OF THOUGHT. 123 
 
 But, upon second thought, have we not put this too 
 strongly ? Does voluntary attention always require a pre- 
 existing influence in order to be effective ? I do not think 
 so. If the will resolutely turns the gaze of the mind upon 
 a certain subject, points of interest, before unnoticed, may 
 present themselves. The interest which alone makes con- 
 centration of mind possible may result from the exercise 
 of the will, instead of existing before it. As the persua- 
 sions of a friend may induce you to consent 'to be intro- 
 duced to a person who does not attract you, and whom you 
 think you will not like, so the exertion of the will may 
 induce you to attend to what you otherwise would not have 
 attended to, because it revealed no attractions to such 
 superficial glances as, without interest, are never given 
 except in voluntary attention. Precisely as your new 
 acquaintance may develop elements of attractiveness which 
 you never would have known anything about if you had 
 not consented to an introduction, so an uninteresting sub- 
 ject may become interesting under the searching gaze of 
 voluntary attention, which otherwise would have remained 
 uninteresting forever. And this is one of the functions of 
 voluntary attention " to develop interests, to make us 
 acquainted with interesting subjects, of which we should 
 have otherwise remained ignorant." 
 
 The Will and Concentration of Thought. But there 
 is another function of equal importance. What we call 
 concentration of thought is a continuity of attention to the 
 same subject. But this continuity is by no means insured 
 when, under the influence of the will, the interests of a 
 certain subject are present to the mind. If the will relaxes 
 its hold upon the activities of the mind, the attention is
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 liable to be carried away by any one of the thousands of 
 ideas that the laws of association are constantly bringing 
 into our minds. As you use your will to give your atten- 
 tion to geometry, although it attracts you less than a 
 number of other subjects, so, if you really study it, you 
 use your will to prevent your mind from being dragged 
 away from it by the interests that are constantly importun- 
 ing you. He who possesses this power in a high degree 
 possesses in a high degree the power of voluntary atten- 
 tion to give steadiness to the mind, to prevent it from 
 going capriciously here and there under the influence of 
 the interests that happen to be present at the particular 
 moment. 
 
 If the interests of the mind are the chief condition of 
 non-voluntary attention, and if voluntary attention, to have 
 any educational value, must start from, or result in, inter- 
 ests, we can put the two questions in which, as teachers, 
 we are interested, in a more definite form. What is the 
 end or object of education ? What is teaching ? The 
 object of education, we have said, is to develop the power 
 of attending to the right things in the right way ; to teach 
 is to get and keep the attention of our pupils by bringing 
 their minds into contact with subjects that have an educa- 
 tional value. The one is the goal ; the other seems the 
 path by which we must reach it. The one is the end ; 
 the other seems the means by which we must attain it. 
 But we now see that to develop the power to attend to the 
 right things in the right way is to develop certain perma- 
 nent interests in the mind, and to give it the power to 
 determine, at any particular time, the interests by which 
 the current of its thoughts shall be directed. We see also 
 that, to get and keep the attention of our pupils by bring-
 
 TWO GREAT QUESTIONS FOR TEACHERS. 125 
 
 ing their minds into contact with subjects that have an 
 educational value, we must make those subjects interesting ; 
 we must give their wills a fulcrum upon which to work. 
 
 Two Great Questions for Teachers. We may then 
 state our two great questions in this form : " (i) How can 
 we develop those permanent interests that shall induce the 
 mind to attend to the right things in the right way ? 
 (2) How can we interest our pupils in the subjects we 
 teach ? " Stated in this compact form, we see that we can 
 not answer the first by answering the second. Life is 
 larger than the school. When we have done all we can to 
 make the subjects they study interesting to our pupils, the 
 interests we have developed will have to compete with 
 other interests, which the work of the school touches but 
 indirectly and remotely. It will always remain possible 
 for their wills to choose to foster the interests that check 
 the growth of those we wish to make permanent. More- 
 over, the school is larger than the recitation. There are 
 other influences discipline, for example which we can 
 bring to bear upon the will besides those that directly 
 result from the recitation. 
 
 In addition to these particulars there is another and 
 much more important one, in which the answers to the 
 two questions do not coincide. 
 
 Interests in Ideas and Interest in Ideals. There are 
 two radically different kinds of interests: interests in ideas 
 and interest in ideals. In spite of what the Herbartians 
 tell us, I maintain that any subject may be so taught as to 
 make the interest aroused in connection with it almost 
 altogether an interest in ideas; and that some subjects
 
 I 2 6 ATTENTION. 
 
 can not be taught in such a way as to make them to any 
 considerable extent a means of awakening interest in ideals. 
 
 Difference between them Illustrated by the Study of 
 History. Let us take history for an illustration. Taught 
 in the right way, a study of it will develop in the pupil 
 both kinds of interests. A pupil will be led to see the 
 relation between events and their causes. He will see, for 
 example, how the weak government of the Confederation 
 was the natural expression of the lack of national patriotism, 
 how the partialities of the Jefferson ian Republican party for 
 France, in 1 793, and of the Hamiltonian Federalist party 
 for England, were the natural results of differences in 
 temperament, surroundings and the like. This perception 
 of the relation between events and their causes awakens 
 an interest which illustrates what I mean by interest in 
 ideas. It is purely intellectual. It may be felt by a man 
 who thinks that the only mistake made by Benedict Arnold 
 and Aaron Burr was in not succeeding. An interest in 
 the perception of numerical relations, or of mathematical 
 relations in general is of the same sort : it is an interest in 
 ideas not ideals. 
 
 But a pupil may also get from a study of history a 
 radically different kind of interest. He may be led to see 
 \vhat the patriotic self-sacrifice of men has contributed to 
 the making of our country what it is that at every 
 critical period men have been found who preferred to 
 sacrifice their private comforts to the public good. And 
 such perceptions may develop in him an admiration of 
 genuine patriotism, and may slowly kindle in him a resolve 
 to be true to the same lofty ideals of civic worth that 
 seemed to animate them. This is an interest in ideals.
 
 DISTINCTIONS OF FACT AND OF WORTH. 127 
 
 Distinctions of Fact and Distinctions of Worth. 
 
 The difference between the two may be clearly brought 
 out by means of a distinction stated in Davidson's History 
 of Greek Education, one of the best books, by the way, 
 on the subject of education with which I am acquainted. 
 There are, says Davidson, two kinds of distinctions : dis- 
 tinctions of fact, and distinctions of worth. We distinguish 
 one thing from another thing; what is from what is not. 
 Such distinctions are distinctions of fact. But sometimes 
 our attention is directed to the relation between a fact and 
 a certain ideal in our minds. We feel that such and^uch 
 conduct not only was, but that it ought to have been, or 
 that it was, but that it ought not to have been. Now the 
 interests that grow out of distinctions of fact as such are 
 interests in ideas ; while the interests that grow out of 
 distinctions of worth are interests in ideals. 
 
 This discrimination of interests in ideas from interests 
 in ideals will serve its purpose if it helps us to see that no 
 one has these permanent interests that induce the mind to 
 attend to the right things in the right way unless he has 
 interests in the right ideals as well as interests in ideas, and 
 that teaching may be signally successful in awakening an 
 interest in ideas, and as signally unsuccessful in awakening 
 an interest in ideals. "All the boys hated him, and yet 
 they all said he was the best teacher they had ever seen." 
 A teacher of whom such a remark could be truly made 
 was a good teacher only in the sense that he was success- 
 ful in awakening an interest in ideas. No teacher who 
 succeeds in stimulating interest in ideals can be an object 
 of dislike. In order, then, that we may do what we can to 
 develop these permanent interests that shall induce our 
 pupils to attend to the right things in the right way, we
 
 128 ATTENTION. 
 
 must do what we can to develop an interest in ideals as 
 well as an interest in ideas. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What are the two conditions of non-voluntary attention in the 
 case of children? 
 
 2. Show that they are universal conditions of non-voluntary 
 attention. 
 
 3. Why is it that novelty sometimes attracts our attention and 
 sometimes fails to do it ? 
 
 4. Show that the influence of novelty is a case of one of the two 
 conditions already discovered. 
 
 5. Show that the influence of bodily conditions upon the attention 
 is not a distinct law of attention. 
 
 6. State and illustrate the influence of the will upon attention. 
 
 7. What are the two functions of voluntary attention? 
 
 8. What is the most definite form in which you can state the two 
 great questions which as a teacher it is your business to answer ? 
 
 9. What is the difference between them ? 
 
 10. Why is it so hard to understand unemphatic reading? 
 
 1 1. What is meant by "interests in ideals"? 
 
 1 2. What, by " interests in ideas " ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. The end of education is often said to be "symmetrical develop- 
 ment" In this lesson I say it is the development of certain perma* 
 nent interests in the mind, etc. Are the two answers consistent ? 
 
 2. "A few years ago, a gentleman brought two Eskimos to 
 London he wished to amuse and at the same time to astonish them 
 with the great magnificence of the metropolis. For this purpose, after 
 having equipped them like English gentlemen, he took them out one 
 morning to walk through the streets of London. They walked for sev- 
 eral hours in silence ; they expressed neither pleasure nor admiration at 
 anything which they saw. When their walk was ended, they appeared 
 uncommonly melancholy and stupefied. As soon as they got home,
 
 QUESTIONS. 129 
 
 they sat down with their elbows upon their knees and hid their faces 
 between their hands. The only words they could be brought to utter 
 were, 'Too much smoke too much noise too much houses too 
 much men too much everything ! "' Edgeworth's Practical 
 Education. Account for the state of mind of the Eskimos. 
 
 3. What subjects in the school curriculum seem to you to be best 
 calculated to awaken an interest in ideals? 
 
 4. Can the study of mathematical and physical geography be 
 made to develop an interest in ideals ? 
 
 5. What sort of discipline seems to you to be best calculated to 
 develop an interest in ideals ? 
 
 6. Under the influence of the intensity of his interest, the whole 
 mind of an orator, in the midst of an oration, is brought to bear upon 
 his subject. Ideas and images not connected with it do not come to 
 his mind as though for the time he had forgotten everything in the 
 world except a certain group of related facts and ideas. Is this con- 
 centration of thought voluntary or involuntary attention ?
 
 LESSON XV. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 (Continued.') 
 
 WE have seen that voluntary attention is not "removed 
 from the sway of interests," but that, to have any educa- 
 tional value, it must start from or lead to interests ; that 
 the two functions of voluntary attention are (i) the devel- 
 opment of interests in things that would never give us 
 pleasure were it not for voluntary attention ; and (2) the 
 development of the power of continuous attention, that 
 the mind may direct its own energies that it may not be 
 a mere instrument, producing nothing but inharmonious 
 sounds, because played upon by every passing impulse. 
 From this point of view we were able to see that the 
 object of education is the development of certain perma- 
 nent interests, and of the power to determine the course of 
 one's activities ; also that true teaching consists in bring- 
 ing the mind into contact with subjects that have an in- 
 tellectual and ethical value, in such a way as to make them 
 interesting. This latter, as we know, is only another way 
 of saying that true teaching consists in getting and keep- 
 ing the attention of our pupils, and making the right use 
 of it. 
 
 Rules for Getting Attention. Let us begin, then, 
 with the simpler question, How can we get and keep the 
 
 130
 
 VOLUNTARY AND NON-VOLUNTARY. 131 
 
 attention of our pupils ? Comenius answered that ques- 
 tion with remarkable completeness nearly three hundred 
 years ago. In his time it was the custom to teach boys 
 separately, or not more than two or three together. He 
 contended that a lecturer could hold the attention of a 
 large class just as well (i) "by always bringing before his 
 pupils something pleasing and profitable ; (2) by intro- 
 ducing the subject of instruction in such a way as to com- 
 mend it to them, or by stirring their intelligences into 
 activity by inciting questions regarding it ; (3) by standing 
 in a place elevated above the class, and requiring all eyes to 
 be fixed on him ; (4) by aiding attention through the repre- 
 sentation of everything to the senses, as far as possible ; 
 
 (5) by interrupting his instruction by frequent and perti- 
 nent questions for example, 'What have I just said?' 
 
 (6) if the boy who has been asked a question should fail to 
 answer, by leaping to the second, third, tenth, thirtieth, 
 and asking the answer without repeating the qicestion ; 
 
 (7) by occasionally demanding an answer from any one in 
 the whole class, and thus stirring up rivalry; (8) by giving 
 an opportunity to any one to ask questions when the lesson 
 is finished." 
 
 Voluntary and Non-voluntary Attention both Neces- 
 sary. The hastiest glance at these rules will enable us 
 to see that the teacher who conforms to them supplies the 
 conditions of both voluntary and non-voluntary attention ; 
 and we need to carefully note the fact that we must do it 
 if we hope to get and keep the attention of our pupils. 
 A teacher who imagines that his work is done in this direc- 
 tion when he interests his pupils in other words, when 
 he supplies the conditions of non-voluntary attention is
 
 l T t 2 ATTENTION. 
 
 sadly mistaken. He can not get their non-voluntary atten- 
 tion until he begins to interest them ; and he can not keep 
 it afterwards simply by being interesting. Until he inter- 
 ests them, their attention, so far as it is non-voluntary, will 
 be given to the most interesting thing that happens to 
 come before their minds. After he interests them, instead 
 of keeping their attention on what he is saying, they will 
 continue to think about some interesting thing he has said, 
 until their attention is attracted by something else. 
 
 In complying with a part of the first rule in bringing 
 before our pupils something pleasing we are evidently 
 supplying the conditions of non-voluntary attention by the 
 matter of our instruction ; in complying with a part of the 
 second " stirring their intelligences to activity by incit- 
 ing to questions regarding it" we are doing the same 
 thing by the manner of our instruction ; and the same is 
 true of the fourth and eighth rules. 
 
 In bringing before our pupils something which they feel 
 to be profitable ; in teaching it so as to commend it to 
 them ; in occupying a position where we can see the entire 
 class (a position that will make them feel that the teacher 
 will be likely to know if they permit their minds to wander); 
 in frequently calling upon them to reproduce what we have 
 just said ; in asking our questions promiscuously, without 
 repeating them, when an incorrect answer is given we 
 are supplying the conditions of voluntary attention, giving 
 them reasons for attending apart from the interest of the 
 matter to which we wish to call their attention. 
 
 Importance of the Fifth Rule. Every one of these 
 rules for getting the voluntary attention of pupils is im- 
 portant ; but I wish especially to call attention to two or
 
 KNOWING THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE. 133 
 
 three of them. Of the fifth I will only remark that no 
 teacher, below the university, who does not practice it 
 habitually, has the attention of a majority of his pupils, no 
 matter what grade of pupils he teaches. Moreover, unless 
 some such rule is observed, it is hard to see how a teacher 
 can be sure that his pupils understand him. We shall miss 
 half of the importance of the first rule unless we bear in 
 mind that when we can not see our pupils, they can not 
 see us. What a hindrance that is to attention we shall 
 realize if we try to listen to a speaker when we can not 
 see him. 
 
 Necessity of Knowing the Educational Value of what 
 we Teach. But it is of the first and second rules that 
 I wish particularly to speak. The more I think of it, the 
 more I am -convinced that the neglect of them is one of 
 the principal causes not only of inattention in classes, but 
 of a dislike for the work of the school in general. We too 
 often fail to inform ourselves of the educational value of 
 the subjects we teach. It too often happens that the best 
 reason we can give for teaching geography, grammar, 
 arithmetic, etc., is that we were taught them. Now, when 
 we do not know why we require our pupils to study this and 
 that subject, is it any wonder that our pupils do not know 
 why they are required to study them ? Boys know very 
 well that they could spend their time to advantage if they 
 could use it as they liked. They could go fishing or hunt- 
 ing or skating, and have lots of fun. They could work 
 and get money, and have more fun. These things a boy 
 knows. Is it any wonder that he does not like to go to 
 school, when he has never been made to feel the value of 
 an education ? Is it any wonder that he makes no effort
 
 134 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 to keep his mind from wandering when the teacher is talk- 
 ing about a lot of " stuff," as he calls it, because he has 
 never been made to appreciate its value ? " Is he to sit 
 and toil day by day, and let the sun shine upon hill and 
 dale, and he not see it ? And let it gleam along the rivers, 
 and glance in and out of the forest trees with scattered 
 joyousness, and he not see it ? Is he to miss the freshness 
 of the air, the games, and the thousand and one delights 
 that pass through the kaleidoscope of the boy mind, so 
 fertile in fancy, so free? And all for what?" For 
 nothing, so far as he knows, unless he has been made to 
 feel the value of an education. If you expect him to work, 
 if you expect him to attend to you, you must make him 
 understand, so far as you can, that it is a reasonable thing 
 for him to do what you require. And you must make him 
 realize what knowledge costs. 
 
 Educational Value of Geography. Show him a map 
 of Africa made twenty years ago, and show him a map of 
 Africa as it is known to-day. Tell him of the toil and 
 privations and hardships that Livingstone underwent to 
 make the difference. Let him know, make him feel, that 
 the knowledge which he can get so easily at school is the 
 "piled up" life of some of the greatest and noblest men 
 of the race. It is so easy to read that " the earth is round 
 because men have sailed around it." But Drake and 
 Raleigh and the other men who were among the first to 
 make the voyage did it at the f isk of their lives. Some of 
 them, leaving pleasant homes and wives and children that 
 they loved, exposed themselves to unknown dangers the 
 result of it all is a single line. 
 
 1 Thring's Theory and Practice of Education.
 
 EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF SCIENCE. 135 
 
 Educational Value of Science. It is hardly necessary 
 to say that every subject we teach lends itself as readily to 
 this kind of illustration as geography. Every niche, every 
 arch, in that great and beneficent temple that we call 
 science was put there by the toil and labor of men. Read 
 how Newton first came to suppose that the fall of the 
 apple and the revolution of the moon around the earth 
 were due to the same cause ; how he made long and labo- 
 rious calculations only to find that the results of his calcu- 
 lations did not correspond with his theory ; how he put his 
 theory aside and found after many years that an error in 
 his data had led to erroneous results, and that the results 
 of his calculations from the true data were in harmony 
 with his theory ; or read how Kepler made hypothesis after 
 hypothesis in trying to find the shape of the path of the 
 planets in their revolution about the sun until at last when 
 he had discovered the true one he was able to say: " I do 
 think thy thoughts after Thee, O God"; read such inci- 
 dents, and they will help you to understand what Fouillee 
 means when he says we ought to humanize the sci- 
 ences we teach : we ought, in other words, so to teach 
 them as to make our pupils realize the human element 
 in them realize how they have grown and how they 
 contribute to human well-being. The tendency of such 
 teaching is to interest our pupils not merely in ideas, 
 but ideals ; is to stimulate them to form resolves to con- 
 tribute their mite to the advancement of human happiness 
 and knowledge. 
 
 But if we put Comenius's rule fully into practice, our 
 pupils will learn to value education not merely for what it 
 will bring them, but for what it will make them. They 
 realize the difference between the boy who can read and
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 one who can not. The boy who can not read sees nothing 
 but a piece of paper with black lines of all sorts and shapes 
 upon it. But the boy who can read sees not merely paper 
 with letters upon it, but the very mind of the man whose 
 thoughts are materialized on the page before him. Make 
 him feel that he possesses other dormant powers that you 
 are trying to develop ; make him feel that education will 
 not merely give him better tools to use, but increase his 
 power and skill in using them ; make him feel tnat every 
 lesson you assign is intended to lead to this end, and he 
 will try to attend, whether he succeeds or not. 
 
 But to insure that his efforts will be successful, we must 
 give his will a fulcrum upon which to work we must 
 develop interests. 
 
 Source of Interest. The great secret of interest is 
 adaptation. The toys and playthings and pictures of a 
 child amuse him because they are adapted to his state of 
 development they stimulate him to exercise his powers. 
 What we must do in teaching, if we expect to interest our 
 pupils, is to set them to do something that they are able 
 to do, in order that they may acquire the power to do what 
 they can not do. We should constantly be striving at 
 every stage of a child's development to learn the contents 
 of his mind to make an inventory of his capacities, so as 
 to see which of them we can turn to educational account, 
 and how. And here again we come upon the fact that 
 meets us at every turn and corner of our experience in 
 teaching the necessity of a constant, careful, systematic 
 study of our pupils, if we hope for the best success in 
 teaching them. Unless we know them thoroughly, we can 
 not adapt our teaching to them perfectly.
 
 LAW OF ADAPTATION. 137 
 
 Questioning and the Law of Adaptation. We all 
 
 know that we can keep the attention of our pupils better 
 by asking questions than we can by doing all the talking 
 ourselves. The reason is found in the law of adaptation. 
 When we are asking questions we are making the utmost 
 use of the impulses of curiosity and activity. Children 
 like to learn things, and they like to act. Ask the right 
 kind of questions, and you make them conscious of their 
 ignorance you stimulate their curiosity. But here again 
 the necessity of studying the minds of our pupils presents 
 itself. The curiosity of little children is very different 
 from that of older pupils. A child asks a question, and 
 before you have answered it he asks another about an 
 entirely different subject. His question was the result of 
 involuntary attention ; and since his interest in things in 
 the form of curiosity is very slight, like a bird he flits from 
 this subject to that, never staying with one thing a minute 
 at a time. But this, as we know, is one of the things 
 which we want to develop this power of attention. So 
 you will try to help him attend more and more closely to a 
 subject, and to follow out a line of thought more and more 
 persistently. When he asks a second question before you 
 have answered the first, you will neither show nor feel 
 impatience, no more than a mother does that her child 
 is born without teeth. You will ask him questions about 
 the first thing, keeping his mind upon it as long as you 
 think it safe, learning a lesson from the bird, who does not 
 encourage her young to make long flights the first time. 
 You will be satisfied if you can make his curiosity a means 
 of getting him to think a little and learn a little, being 
 sure that in this way you can deepen it, and so get him to 
 think more closely and acquire more knowledge.
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 Power of Enthusiasm. It is due to the same principle 
 that what is adapted to us interests us that to pupils 
 the most interesting thing is the manifestation of that 
 intense form of interest in the teacher that we call enthu- 
 siasm. Arthur Sidgwick well says: "Whether it be school 
 lesson or subject of common talk out of school, the enthu- 
 siast drags the boy's mind captive. He makes him attend, 
 he makes him interested, he makes him think. Without 
 trying to do so, he makes learning seem attractive and 
 delightful. Boys are naturally impressionable, and enthu- 
 siasm impresses ; they are naturally imitative, and what- 
 ever they see a man keen about, they at once begin to 
 excite themselves about it. Whether it be poetry, history, 
 politics, art, science, natural history, or archaeology, the 
 enthusiast will at once make a school of his own imitators 
 about him. And he will do far more than this. He will 
 lift boy after boy out of the barbarous intellectual atmos- 
 phere in which the natural boy lives and moves, and make 
 him conscious though it be only dimly conscious of 
 the vast world of interest which lies around in every direc- 
 tion, waiting till he gird up his mental loins and come to 
 explore. This is the real result of a master's enthusiasm 
 - it cultivates. Under plodding, humdrum teachers, who 
 will not put soul into their work, a boy may pass through 
 a school from bottom to top, doing all the work so as to 
 pass muster, and be a savage at the end. But let the 
 enthusiast catch him, though but for a term, and the 
 savage is converted." 1 
 
 I can not forbear quoting what another English teacher 
 says on the same subject : " To find the lesson oozing, as 
 it were, from your finger tips ; to be so full of your subject 
 
 1 The Practice of Education, p. 63.
 
 IMPORTANCE OF INTEREST IN OUR WORK. 139 
 
 that the question is not what to say, but what to leave out ; 
 and to feel so well and vigorous that your vivacity compels 
 attention and interest, and makes the faces in front of you 
 look bright contagiously that is how to prepare the 
 lesson. . . . The story (told by the Professor at the Break- 
 fast Table, I think) of a tailor lamenting over a customer 
 departing empty-handed, that if it were not for a headache 
 he would have a new coat on that back in spite of himself, 
 is freighted with truth. There is a magnetic influence 
 passing from a healthy and alert mind to all with whom it 
 comes in contact ; that influence is the teacher's conjuring 
 wand, and without it he will never bring the dry bones of 
 education to life. It will readily be seen that no patent 
 process for the production or maintenance of this influence 
 can be found. It is best fostered by variety of life ; by a 
 wide experience of men and things (not at all an easy 
 thing for one so closely tied as a teacher to attain); in 
 short, by anything that tends to keep the heart and mind 
 open, and to make life interesting. Teachers lead too often 
 very dull lives, and the dullness reacts on their pupils. 
 Men and women who have to give out so much can hardly 
 lead too full and rich and interesting lives. Their minds 
 ought to be a storehouse of thoughts and pictures and 
 recollections, from which they can draw at will to enrich 
 their lessons and to furnish the minds of their pupils." 
 
 Importance of Interest in our Work. It is indeed 
 true that enthusiasm is a gift of nature conferred on but 
 few teachers. But there is a degree of interest within the 
 reach of every one of us, if we are willing to work for it. 
 There is no danger that we shall lack interest in our sub- 
 jects if we study them. When we think we know so much
 
 140 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 about them that it is not worth while to study them any 
 more, that very fact proves that we are lacking in interest. 
 But interest in our work is quite as essential as knowl- 
 edge to success in teaching. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Summarize the results reached in the preceding chapters on 
 attention. 
 
 2. State the rules given by Comenius, und show how each of them 
 is related to the laws of attention. 
 
 3. Show that a teacher must supply the conditions of both volun- 
 tary and non-voluntary attention. 
 
 4. What is meant by ' education values" ? 
 
 5. What can we do to commend the subjects we teach to our 
 pupils ? 
 
 6. What is the secret of interest ? 
 
 7. Describe the curiosity of little children, and state what should 
 be done to deepen it. 
 
 8. What is an important object of questioning older pupils ? 
 
 9. Explain and describe the effect of enthusiasm in awakening 
 interest. 
 
 10. What is the point of the story told by the Professor at the 
 Breakfast Table ? 
 
 1 1 . What is meant by " humanizing science " ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Dr. Arnold said : " The more active my own mind is, the more 
 it works upon great moral and political points, the better for the 
 school." Account for the fact. 
 
 2. Account for the influence of Sheridan at the battle of 
 Shenandoah. 
 
 3. Describe the Socratic method of teaching, and account for its 
 stimulating effect.
 
 QUESTIONS. 141 
 
 4. What are the education values of arithmetic, geography, 
 grammar, and United States history ? 
 
 5. Make a study of children, as you have opportunity, to ascertain 
 the character of their attention whether (a) it is easily distracted, 
 or (<J) hard to transfer from one subject to another. 
 
 6. What use can you make of that kind of knowledge of children ? 
 
 7. How would you humanize the subject of chemistry ?
 
 LESSON XVI. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 (Continued?) 
 
 IN the last lesson we considered the question as to 
 what we should do to keep the attention of our pupils 
 during recitation. The wider question the question as 
 to the other means at our command to help us in cultivat- 
 ing the power of attention has yet to be examined. 
 
 We learned from Comenius that one of the ways of 
 keeping the attention of our pupils during recitation is to 
 encourage them to ask questions ; and we know that the 
 reason is that in this way we stimulate their curiosity, and 
 give them the pleasure of mental activity. 
 
 Curiosity of Young Children. But our observations 
 of children have enabled us to see that the curiosity of 
 very young pupils is not strong enough to incite them to 
 hard work. When they ask us questions, or when we ask 
 them questions that they can not answer, if we do not 
 answer them at once, they stop thinking about these 
 questions, because they have so little curiosity. 
 
 Curiosity of Older Pupils. But when we are dealing 
 with older pupils, we should make a different use of the 
 principle of curiosity. Their curiosity is strong enough 
 to stimulate them to harder work. You can get their 
 
 142
 
 CURIOSITY OF OLDER PUPILS. 143 
 
 attention by asking questions that will make them con- 
 scious of their ignorance ; and the realization of this fact 
 will often be a sufficient motive for vigorous exertion. 
 When you should answer your question, your own tact 
 must determine. It often happens that a student has 
 interest enough in a subject to be clearly conscious of the 
 labyrinth of difficulties in which the questions of his 
 teacher have involved him, but not enough to make him 
 willing to undergo the labor of threading his way out. 
 Now, while we ought not to remove difficulties that have 
 not been realized, or which the pupil's interest might 
 induce him to overcome, there are circumstances under 
 which the clearing up of difficulties may greatly increase 
 his interest, and thus put him in the way of a more vigor- 
 ous and protracted exertion of his powers. When the sub- 
 ject under consideration lies before his mind wrapped in 
 a fog, a few direct, luminous, incisive statements from 
 you may, like a brisk wind, clear away the fog and reveal 
 the outlines of the country sharp and clear to your pupil's 
 mind. 
 
 You may thus give him that experience that can be felt, 
 but can not be described that delightful consciousness 
 of power which he realizes when, instead of groping in 
 darkness in an unknown country, he finds himself at home, 
 with a noonday sun to guide his footsteps. His feeling of 
 weakness gives place to a feeling of power. Instead of 
 feeling himself overborne and beaten back by a superior 
 force, he is victor, and his enemies are flying, or rather 
 annihilated, before him. This delightful experience, this 
 stepping from darkness into light, this transition from 
 mental chaos and anarchy into a region of order and law, 
 is an exceedingly powerful stimulus.
 
 1 44 ATTENTION. 
 
 School Lessons. But if you are to make the most 
 of the interest excited in this or any other way in 
 recitation, you must follow it up. You have asked your 
 pupil a question, and set him to thinking. His thoughts 
 naturally take the shape of a series of questions, and he is 
 eager to get answers to them. What does he need to 
 deepen his interest ? Books. Or by a few well-chosen 
 statements you have set his mind in order. He knew a 
 lot of facts, but he saw no connection between them. His 
 mind was like a house into which a lot of new furniture 
 had just been tumbled everything was everywhere, and 
 nothing was anywhere. Your statements have brought 
 order out of chaos. You have enabled him to see that the 
 various measures of Washington's first administration were 
 a part of the carefully devised plan for strengthening the 
 general government that emanated from the brain of the 
 great Secretary of the Treasury. He at once becomes 
 interested in Hamilton. What does he need to deepen 
 this interest ? Books. Or your class is studying Haw- 
 thorne's The Great Stone Face. And when they have 
 become thoroughly interested in the strange and beautiful 
 allegory, you tell them of the man who wrote it ; of the 
 quaint old town in which he lived and died ; of Emerson 
 and Thoreau, and the other famous men who lived there ; 
 you try to interest them in some of the great writers of 
 American literature. But if your efforts are to result in 
 any permanent deepening of their interest, they must have 
 access to books. 
 
 Without further illustration, it is plain that if you are 
 to make the most of the interest you have excited in 
 recitation, you must be able to direct them to a library. 
 Indeed, to develop interest in your pupils, and expect it to
 
 DISCIPLINE AND ATTENTION. 145 
 
 be self-sustaining from the start, is as absurd as it would 
 be for a farmer to take the utmost pains in preparing the 
 ground, and then in planting corn, only to neglect it as 
 soon as he saw the tiny blades peeping through the ground, 
 with the idea that his work was then done. If the tiny 
 blade is to grow into a stalk big enough to bear the golden 
 grain, it must be carefully cultivated. In like manner, if 
 the interest which teachers excite is to be anything more 
 than a passing emotion, it must be fostered and cultivated ; 
 it must be fed by books. 
 
 "But libraries are expensive, and school committees and 
 directors often refuse to buy them. What can we do in 
 such a case, granting all that you say about their useful- 
 ness?" You can so impress the idea of their importance 
 upon the community as to see t/iaj they are got. It is 
 always to be borne in mind that a library is only a collec- 
 tion of books ; and as any finite quantity, however small, is 
 infinitely greater than zero, so any library, however small, 
 is infinitely better than none. This, then, is one of the 
 things which we can do to deepen the interests of our 
 pupils, and so increase their power of attention. We 
 can set them to reading books that will foster and 
 nourish the interests that have germinated in our recita- 
 tion rooms. 
 
 Discipline and Attention. We can help our pupils in 
 the same direction by a proper system of discipline. Car- 
 penter well says : " The influence of a system of discipline 
 by which each individual feels himself borne along as if 
 by a Fate, still more that of an instructor possessing a 
 strong will, guided by sound judgment (especially when 
 united with qualities that attract the affection as well as
 
 146 ATTENTION. 
 
 command the respect of the pupil), greatly aids him in 
 learning to use that power. As Archbishop Manning has 
 truly said : ' During the earlier period of our lives the 
 potentiality of our intellectual and moral nature is elicited 
 by the will of others."' The hours of study should be 
 short, especially in the case of younger children. But 
 during those hours they should be put at work adapted to 
 their state of development, and kept assiduously at it. No 
 whispering should be allowed. The boy who whispers to 
 another calls off his attention from his work obstructs 
 the formation of the very habit you are trying to develop, 
 the habit of concentration. No disorder of any kind should 
 be tolerated. With the utmost kindness, and at the same 
 time with the utmost firmness, your pupils should be made 
 to feel that the hours for study are for study. As soon as 
 they can understand them, you should show them the 
 reason for your requirements. You should make them feel 
 that, in obeying you, they are obeying reason, and not 
 arbitrary will. You should make them feel that you 
 require what you require because you must, because you 
 would be false to the trust reposed in you by the com- 
 munity unless you did. You should make them feel that 
 they and you are associated together as pupils and teacher 
 for the accomplishment of a definite purpose, and that 
 whatever they or you need to do in order to accomplish 
 that purpose must be done, that you no less than they 
 have no choice but to do it. And when they can appreciate 
 the truth of that noteworthy saying of Locke's, " The 
 foundation of all virtue and worth consists in the ability to 
 cross one's inclinations and follow the dictates of reason," 
 you have in their own desire to reach a high ideal a power- 
 ful auxiliary.
 
 SCHOOL PROGRAMMES. 147 
 
 School Programmes. It would doubtless be possible 
 to assist pupils to develop powers of concentration by a judi- 
 cious arrangement of school programmes. A programme 
 which requires the hardest work when the pupil is least 
 capable of working vigorously makes attention unneces- 
 sarily difficult. But it is not possible to say in detail what 
 a judicious programme is, because the question as to the 
 relative intellectual capacities of pupils at different hours 
 of the day has not yet been answered. To say that pupils 
 should be required to do the hardest work when they are 
 most capable of vigorous mental work, and the easiest, 
 when they are least capable, does not take us a step nearer 
 the making of a good programme unless we know when 
 they are most, and when they are least, capable of doing 
 mental work. Even if this were known, and it is not, 
 the problem would be complicated by the fact that what 
 one pupil finds difficult, another finds easy, and the reverse. 
 It is an easy solution of the question to conclude that, 
 because voluntary muscular energy undergoes certain 
 fluctuations in the twenty hours, therefore, intellectual 
 energy does, and without further ceremony to decide that 
 the hours of greatest voluntary muscular energy are also 
 those of greatest intellectual energy. But such solutions 
 have nothing to recommend them except their simplicity. 
 We may be sure that there is no short, high and dry 
 cut to the goal we wish to reach. We shall learn what 
 the ideally best programme is in case there is such a 
 programme only by careful experiments conducted 
 on a large scale, only by studying the conditions under 
 which our pupils seem to do their work most easily, and 
 by utilizing the results of other students in the same 
 field.
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 Explanation of Inattention. Finally, we should never 
 permit ourselves to resort to "laziness" or "stupidity" to 
 account for inattention as long as any other explanation is 
 possible. I have already quoted that profound observation 
 of Pestalozzi, " If our pupils are inattentive, we should 
 first look to ourselves for the reason." Any teacher who 
 earnestly tries to follow Pestalozzi's injunction will be sur- 
 prised to find in how large a number of cases inattention 
 and lack of interest on the part of his pupils are due to 
 causes which he can remove. Sometimes a boy is in- 
 attentive because he does not see the practical value of 
 the work he is set to doing ; sometimes because he does 
 not understand certain fundamental ideas which, being in 
 darkness, necessarily darken the entire subject ; sometimes 
 also sad to relate because the teacher, by sarcastic 
 and satirical remarks, has excited the boy's dislike. Grown 
 people are sometimes guilty of " cutting off their noses to 
 spite their faces," and boys very often. And when a 
 teacher indulges in sarcasm at the expense of his pupils, 
 they are very likely to slight their work as much as they 
 can, even when they know they are injuring themselves, 
 because he wants them to do it}- Get the good will of 
 your pupils if you wish to get their attention. 
 
 "Many a boy will sit and seem stolid, and all the while resent your 
 satire with exasperation. You can not tell a sensitive boy by his look. 
 He is not the shy, dark-eyed creature of the school tales. He may just 
 as likely be a ruddy, high-spirited person, or a brawny athlete, or an ugly, 
 lumpy log of a boy. And the satire may often be unjust. And, just or 
 unjust, nineteen boys out of twenty hate it. The worst mistake of all is 
 to use it among small boys. . . . When they are ignorant, or inattentive, 
 or stupid, he (the teacher) begins to be sarcastic i.e., to show a far 
 worse ignorance and stupidity than theirs." The Practice of Education, 
 p. 41.
 
 UNINTERESTING AND INTERESTING WORK. 149 
 
 Connect Uninteresting Work with Interesting. 
 
 Sometimes also pupils are inattentive because the facts of 
 the subject have no natural interest for them, and have 
 never been connected with anything that is interesting. 
 No observer of children has failed to notice that things 
 devoid of interest may become interesting by being con- 
 nected with something that is interesting. 
 
 Revolution in Primary Teaching. The revolution 
 that is taking place in the primary teaching of this country 
 is based at the outset on this fact. When children start to 
 school, they are already interested in nature in the bugs, 
 butterflies, grasshoppers, birds, trees, plants and flowers 
 with which they are familiar. They are also interested in 
 such stories as come within the range of their comprehen- 
 sion stories about animals, fairy stories, stories of ad- 
 venture and the like. The business of the primary teacher 
 is to work these interests for all they are worth to grad- 
 ually develop the interest in nature into an interest in 
 science, and the interest in stories into an interest in liter- 
 ature and history, and also to connect these interests with 
 the other work of the school in such a way that it may be 
 done in the most economic manner possible. To this end, 
 the reading, writing, spelling, drawing, number and lan- 
 guage work should be connected with the study of nature 
 and stories to as large an extent as possible. Reading for 
 the sake of pronouncing words is a stupid task suitable 
 only to a parrot. But reading for the sake of acquiring 
 information about something the pupil is already interested 
 in is a delightful labor. Writing for the sake of imitating 
 a copy is uninteresting. But writing for the sake of giving 
 expression to interesting thoughts is a pleasure. What
 
 150 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 child of seven or eight cares what six times twenty-two 
 make ? But when he and five companions each sees twenty- 
 two red-winged grasshoppers on a given excursion, the ques- 
 tion as to how many they have all seen is an entirely differ- 
 ent one. What child cares to draw a mere figure, or some 
 object taken to the school just for the sake of being drawn ? 
 But what child does not take an interest in drawing if he 
 is asked to put on paper his ideas of a certain scene, or to 
 represent, as he sees it, an object he is already interested in? 
 These illustrations might be continued indefinitely. But 
 they will serve their purpose if they show how the interest 
 of interesting work may be carried over to uninteresting 
 work, and how all the work of the school may in this way 
 be made interesting. It ought to be noted also that such 
 work deepens the interest in, and the value of, the work 
 that is already interesting. A child who draws a scene as 
 it is in his mind, or an object as he sees it, cares more 
 about the scene and the object than he did before he drew 
 them. When he has read a story about an animal he is 
 interested in, he is more interested in it than he was 
 before. When he has used numbers to learn how many 
 objects of a certain class he has seen, or what proportion 
 one class forms to another class, the greater definiteness of 
 his ideas is a source of pleasure. By connecting, then, 
 the interesting work of the school with that which would 
 otherwise be uninteresting, the uninteresting work not 
 only becomes interesting it adds to the value, and inten- 
 sifies the interest, of the work that is already interesting. 
 
 Individuality of Pupils and Inattention. Sometimes 
 also boys are inattentive because we do not respect their 
 individuality because we set them to doing entirely
 
 QUESTIONS. 151 
 
 uncongenial work. It is very instructive to learn that 
 Darwin was counted a very dull boy, and I think it quite 
 likely that the same opinion was held of Edison. The 
 trouble, of course, was not with Darwin, but with his 
 teachers. He had a strong bent towards the study of 
 nature, and they wanted to teach him Latin and Greek, 
 and make him memorize books about nature. If his teachers 
 had practiced Pestalozzi's injunction, this dull boy might 
 have been transformed into the most interesting and 
 interested student in their schools. 1 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . Under what circumstances is it proper to ask your pupils ques- 
 tions that you do not answer ? 
 
 2. Mention various ways in which you can use a library to deepen 
 the interest of your pupils. 
 
 3. In what ways does a system of discipline aid you in developing 
 your pupils' powers of attention ? 
 
 4. By what principle should the arrangement of a programme 
 of studies be determined ? 
 
 5. Mention various causes of inattention and lack of interest, and 
 state what can be done to remove them. 
 
 6. What is meant by "respecting the individuality" of the pupil? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. State the various uses of questioning pupils. 
 
 2. If a boy liked arithmetic, and disliked geography, or conversely, 
 how would you try to develop an interest in the subject to which he 
 was indifferent ? 
 
 3. Do you think there should be elective studies in high schools, 
 and, if so, to what extent ? 
 
 4. Can you respect the individuality of students who are studying 
 the same subjects? 
 
 5. What is meant by " correlation " ? " Concentration " ? 
 
 1 See Appendix A.
 
 LESSON XVII. 
 
 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 
 
 IN studying our experience in order to ascertain the 
 nature and laws of attention, we have already observed 
 three fundamentally different classes of mental facts. We 
 have seen that what we perceive, remember, recollect, and 
 believe as the result of reasoning depends on what 
 we attend to. But all these acts of mind (perception, 
 memory, recollection, and reasoning) are alike forms of 
 knowledge. 
 
 Two Kinds of Knowledge. Perception gives us what 
 seems to be immediate or direct knowledge of external 
 objects trees, houses, fences, and the like; memory, 
 direct knowledge of past objects and events ; reasoning, 
 mediate or indirect knowledge of objects and events and 
 laws past, present, and future. They differ, then, in 
 the kinds of facts of which they tell us, and the way in 
 which they tell us about them. Perception tells us of the 
 present directly ; memory, of the past directly ; reasoning, 
 of past, present, and future indirectly. But they agree in 
 being forms or kinds of knowledge. What we perceive, 
 and what we remember, and what we learn by reasoning, 
 we alike know, provided there has been no mistake in the 
 processes. 
 
 152
 
 KNOWLEDGE AND FEELING. 153 
 
 Relation between Knowledge and Feeling. But we 
 
 have seen that what we perceive, remember, etc., depends 
 on what interests us on what gives us pleasure and pain. 
 This interest this pleasure and pain is a fundamen- 
 tally different fact from knowledge. Acts of knowing are 
 indeed usually accompanied by pleasure or pain; but the 
 knowing is one thing, the pleasure or pain quite another. 
 We shall see this clearly if we consider the effect the 
 knowledge of the same fact produces on different minds, 
 or the same mind under different circumstances. One 
 man reads an account of a death ; it produces no effect, 
 because the dead man was an entire stranger. Another 
 reads it and is prostrated with grief ; the dead man was 
 his son. Or you drop your purse, and you see it lying on 
 the ground, as you stoop to pick it up, with no feeling 
 either of pleasure or pain. But if you see it after you 
 have lost it and have hunted for it a long time in vain, 
 you have a pronounced feeling of pleasure. 
 
 Different Forms of Feeling. All forms of pleasure 
 and pain are called feelings. Between the pleasure which 
 comes from eating a peach and that which results from 
 solving a difficult problem, or learning good news of a 
 friend, or thinking of the progress of civilization be- 
 tween the pain that results from a cut in the hand and 
 that which results from the failure of a long-cherished plan 
 or the death of a friend there is a long distance. But the 
 one group are all pleasures ; the other, all pains. And what- 
 ever the source of the pleasure or pain, it is alike feeling. 
 
 Willing Discriminated from Knowing and Feeling. 
 We saw, also, in studying attention, that it often requires
 
 154 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 
 
 hard work to take our minds from some subject that 
 strongly attracts it. That effort is an example of willing. 
 We can easily distinguish willing from both knowing and 
 feeling. The boy who is invited to go skating when he 
 has a lesson to get has a perfectly definite idea knowl- 
 edge of what he is invited to do. That idea gives him 
 a longing to go feeling but he does not decide will 
 to do it. He wishes to get his lesson ; the thought of 
 leaving it unlearned gives him a form of pain. And so, 
 between the anticipations of the pleasure the skating would 
 give him and the pain he feels at thinking of leaving his 
 lesson unlearned, he is undecided for some minutes he 
 wills neither to go nor not to go. Presently he decides 
 wills. He says, " I will go," and immediately makes 
 preparations to start ; or, " I will not go," and resolutely 
 attempts to put all thought of skating out of his mind. 
 
 No matter what you do whether you walk, sing, talk, 
 jump, think of this or that the act of the mind which 
 initiates your activity, provided there is such an act 
 which is not always the case is an act of the will. 
 
 Relation of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing to the 
 Self. These three classes of facts are all experiences of 
 the same mind or self. You say, "/know, / feel, / will," 
 and you say rightly. The self that knows is the self that 
 feels and wills. Still it is convenient to have names that 
 denote particular groups of these activities of the mind. 
 As it saves circumlocution to have one name to denote 
 the business of a man farmer and another his party 
 ties Republican although the same man is both farmer 
 and Republican, so we speak of the mind as intellect when 
 we think of it as possessing and exercising the power to
 
 OPPOSITION OF KNOWING AND WILLING. 155 
 
 know ; sensibility, when we think of it as possessing and 
 exercising the power to feel ; will, when we think of it as 
 possessing and exercising the power to will. But it is the 
 one indivisible mind that is intellect, sensibility, and will. 
 
 We shall find upon observation that the mind does 
 nothing but know, feel, and will. Probably you do not like 
 to call that act of the mind by which it reaches a false 
 conclusion an act of knowledge, and it is not as the word 
 is popularly used. But, as a mental fact, what is the 
 difference between the act of the mind by which it reaches 
 a true conclusion and that by which it reaches one that is 
 false ? None whatever, in many cases. A child sees an 
 old man with white whiskers, and is *told that they were 
 black when he was young. Her papa has black whiskers, 
 and so she asks : " Papa, were your whiskers white when 
 you were young ? " Her conclusion is false, and yet her 
 mental process is exactly like many that lead her to con- 
 clusions that are true. So also memory often misleads, 
 and we often think we perceive what does not exist. But 
 as mental facts there is no difference between memory 
 that deceives and memory that tells the truth between 
 acts of perception that correspond with external objects 
 and those that do not. 
 
 Although intellect, sensibility, and will are but different 
 names of the one mind, as feeling and willing and know- 
 ing, there is scarcely a moment in our waking hours when 
 we are not doing all three at the same time. Examine 
 our minds when we will, and we shall always find ourselves 
 knowing, and generally feeling and willing. 
 
 Opposition of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing. Never- 
 theless we can not know intensely and feel or will in-
 
 156 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 
 
 tensely at the same time ; or feel intensely, and know or 
 feel intensely at the same time. 
 
 Some of the illustrations of the effects of attention will 
 serve to illustrate this law of the mind also. When Car- 
 penter was engaged in lecturing, he forgot his pain. Why? 
 Because pain is a feeling ; and when he was lecturing he 
 was exercising his powers to know very vigorously. A mad 
 man is an insane man one whose knowing powers are 
 disarranged. Why is it that we sometimes call an angry 
 man mad ? Because anger is a state of intense feeling, 
 and a man in such a state often does as foolish things as 
 though he were insane. The expression "wild with grief" 
 has a similar significance, illustrates the same law. You 
 have noticed also that you do not make much progress in 
 those studies which interest you so little as to make it 
 necessary for you to put forth a great deal of effort to 
 keep your mind on them. Why ? Because you have 
 to will so energetically to concentrate your attention that 
 there is little energy left for knowing. 
 
 The practical rules which are based upon this law are 
 so evident that it is needless to enlarge upon them. You 
 know that when your pupils are amused they do not study 
 much, because amusement a pleasurable feeling is a 
 hindrance to that concentration of mind which we call 
 study knowing. 
 
 The law that I have been illustrating is called the opposi- 
 tion or antagonism of knowing, feeling, and willing. 
 
 Interdependence of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing. 
 
 Notwithstanding this opposition, there is an interdepend- 
 ence of knowing, feeling, and willing. When you hurt 
 your hand feeling you know that you hurt it, and you
 
 IMPORTANCE TO THE TEACHER. 157 
 
 try to relieve the pain willing. Sometimes you have 
 what you call the " blues " - you feel depressed without 
 knowing why. Apart from that case, and bodily pleasures 
 and pains, all feeling depends upon knowing. What angers 
 you or grieves you ? Something you know. When your 
 so-called friends backbite you, it does not affect you until 
 you know it ; the misfortune that overtakes your absent 
 friends does not trouble you until the news has reached 
 you. The dependence of knowing on feeling I have illus- 
 strated at length in the lesson on attention. I tried to 
 show how necessary interest is to attention, and that is 
 only another way of stating the dependence of knowing, so 
 far as it results from involuntary attention, upon feeling. 
 The facts of voluntary attention again illustrate the de- 
 pendence of the will on feeling. I will to do this or that 
 because of some pleasure or benefit and that, when 
 analyzed, will be found to consist of some form of pleasure 
 which I hope to gain, or of some pain which I hope to 
 avoid. 
 
 Importance of this Fact to the Teacher. This fact of 
 the interdependence of knowing, feeling, and willing is, as 
 we know, of cardinal importance to the teacher. Teachers 
 are coming to feel the importance of knowing the contents 
 of their pupils' minds, in order that they may adapt their 
 teaching to them. To go from the known to the unknown 
 is to make what the pupil knows a starting-point from 
 which to lead him to something he does not know. Plainly 
 any attempt to explain the unknown will be a failure un- 
 less the explanation is made in terms known to the pupil. 
 For this reason intelligent teachers are always trying to 
 make a map of their pupils' minds, that they may learn
 
 158 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 
 
 what points they can help their pupils to start from in 
 making excursions into the unknown. 
 
 But there is another fact just as important which we are 
 more likely to overlook. When you have arranged an ex- 
 cursion, there is something else you must do before you 
 can be sure it will be a success ; you must see to it that 
 people have a sufficient motive to go on it. So also, when 
 you have planned a mental excursion for your pupils, 
 when you have found a place from which they can start, 
 before you can be sure of their company, you must be sure 
 that they have a sufficient motive for going with you. 
 Dropping the figure, it is not enough for you to explain 
 things so that your pupils can understand you ; you must 
 see to it that they have a motive to make the neces- 
 sary exertion. What wind is to a sailing vessel, and 
 water to a water-mill, and steam to a steam-engine, that 
 motives feelings of some sort are to all intellectual 
 activity. It is not enough to build railroads and cars and 
 steam-engines ; coal must be mined and water must be 
 converted into steam, or the cars will never leave the 
 depot. 
 
 Mistake of the Herbartians. But I do not mean to 
 intimate that interest is the only motive to which the 
 teacher can appeal. Far from it. This mistake, as I 
 deem it, is the fundamental error of the Herbartians. 
 Following in the footsteps of their master, they undertake 
 to construct a philosophy of education in which no place 
 is left for the action of the will, and in which there is no 
 need of any. As I apprehend it, education is the process 
 by which a pupil is gradually elevated from a condition in 
 which he is governed by the interests pertaining to sense,
 
 WHICH IS A GOOD SCHOOL? 159 
 
 to the interests pertaining to reason. But this elevation 
 is not possible except through a constant appeal to the 
 will. The office of the will is not to compel the mind to 
 any line of activity in the absence of interests that would 
 be impossible but of two or more interests before the 
 mind at any moment, to choose between them in harmony 
 with the conclusions of reason. 
 
 Which is a Good School ? The clear perception of 
 the necessity of motives and of the enormous difference in 
 the educational value of the motives which you may em- 
 ploy, will give you a new test for determining the excel- 
 lence of a school. You go into a school ; the order is 
 excellent, the lessons well prepared. You say, " That's a 
 good school." But can you be sure of that without further 
 examination ? You know indeed that good results are 
 reached ; but before you can decide as to the character of 
 the school, you must know what means are employed to 
 reach them you must know what motives the teacher 
 appeals to. Are the pupils quiet simply through fear ? 
 Then all we can say is that the school has one element of 
 a good school order but that the wrong motives are 
 relied on to get it. Do they learn their lessons to avoid 
 punishment ? Then again I say the wrong motives are 
 appealed to. Good teaching appeals to motives that will 
 tend to make pupils studious through life. How long will 
 the fear of punishment influence pupils ? As long as there 
 is a teacher to inflict punishment. Indeed, as we have 
 seen, it is not enough to make instruction interesting. 
 Volkman well says that the precept of modern pedagogy 
 is, " Instruct in such a way that an interest may awake 
 and remain active for life."
 
 160 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 
 
 Emulation. The question as to how far emulation 
 should be appealed to is undoubtedly difficult, but it 
 is safe to say that it is not to be condemned alto- 
 gether, as some theorists and idealists would have it. 
 Where it is used to stimulate the idle as well as the 
 industrious, the weak as well as the strong, it is an 
 altogether proper and valuable motive to appeal to. In 
 that suggestive and stimulating book, Educational Re- 
 formers, the author, Mr. Quick, gives an interesting and 
 instructive illustration of some excellent work which the 
 principle of emulation may be made to do. " Let me tell 
 you," he says in an imaginary conversation with a friend, 
 " of one form of stimulus which seemed to work well and 
 was free from most of the objections you are thinking of. 
 When I had a small school of my own, in which there 
 were only young boys, I put up in the school-room a list 
 of the boys' names, in alphabetical order, with blank 
 spaces after the names. I looked over the boys' written 
 work very carefully, and whenever I came across any 
 written exercise evidently done with great painstaking, 
 and, for that boy, with more than ordinary success, I 
 marked it with a G, and I put the G in one of the spaces 
 after that boy's name in the list hung up in the school- 
 room. When the school collectively had a fixed number 
 of G's, we had an extra half-holiday. The announcement 
 of a G was therefore always hailed with delight." P. 530, 
 Rev. Ed. 
 
 This method tended to make the boy emulate his past 
 self, and that was its chief excellence. It was not the 
 merit of a boy's work, in comparison with the work of 
 other boys, that won a G, but the merit in comparison 
 with his own past performances. But I do not mean to
 
 QUESTIONS. l6l 
 
 imply that it is never proper to try to get our pupils to 
 work by inducing them to try to excel each other. Far 
 from it. A boy who feels that he is a blockhead thinks 
 that it is not worth while for him to try to do anything. 
 Each pupil should be made to feel that there is some 
 thing in which he can excel, and we should regard it as 
 one of our most important duties to try to help him to 
 find what that thing is. We should therefore always be 
 on the alert to detect any signs of excellence in the work 
 of the dull boys and girls, and be quick to commend it. 
 I have already spoken of a boy who could not spell one 
 word in four in a spelling lesson after hours of study. But 
 he was excellent in arithmetic, and it was altogether 
 proper for his teacher to praise his work in that subject as 
 highly as it would bear. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What is the difference between mediate and immediate knowl- 
 edge? 
 
 2. Define intellect, sensibility, and will. 
 
 3. Define and give examples of knowing, feeling, and willing. 
 
 4. Why are erroneous reasonings classed as knowing ? 
 
 5. What is meant by the opposition of knowing, feeling, and 
 willing ? 
 
 6. What is meant by their interdependence ? 
 
 7. Illustrate both from your own observation and experience. 
 
 8. What is the test of a good school? 
 
 9. What is one of the most important duties of a teacher ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 I. Show in detail the relation between the conclusions reached 
 as to the conditions of attention and those reached in this chapter.
 
 162 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 
 
 2. Can you bring the law of the antagonism between knowing, 
 feeling, and willing under a wider law ? 
 
 3. Mention ways in which the principle of emulation may be used 
 to get altogether useful results. 
 
 4. Give examples of erroneous reasonings in children, and show 
 their resemblance to correct reasonings.
 
 LESSON XVIII. 
 
 SENSATION. 
 
 IN the last lesson we picked out the threads of which 
 the tangled web of our conscious life is composed. We 
 learned that, no matter what subject stands in the centre 
 of the field of consciousness whether the toys of the 
 child, the games of the boy, the ambitions of the young 
 man, the absorbing occupations of maturity, or the retro- 
 spective reveries of old age our entire mental life con- 
 sists of knowing, feeling, and willing. 
 
 If my object were to discuss, even in a superficial way, 
 these various phases of our mental life, it would be proper 
 now to try to ascertain the strands of which these threads 
 are composed, and show how they were twisted into their 
 present form in our experience to break up the complex 
 forms of knowing, feeling, and willing, of which we are 
 conscious, into their elements, and then trace their growth 
 from their feeble beginnings up to the forms in which we 
 find them. 
 
 But I have no such purpose. I intend from this point 
 to confine myself to the intellectual or knowing side of the 
 mental life, and to those phases of it that have most inter- 
 est for us as teachers. But even here lack of space pre- 
 vents me from pursuing a strictly logical course from 
 
 163
 
 T 64 SENSATION. 
 
 trying to break up the complex forms of knowing of which 
 we are conscious, in order to ascertain their elements. 
 
 Fortunately, however, we can be sure of some of those 
 elements, at any rate, without any elaborate analysis. It 
 is easy to see that we should never know anything of the 
 objects about us were it not for their action upon the 
 senses. We see that persons born blind have no ideas of 
 colors that those born deaf have no ideas of sounds; 
 and it is evident that, if a being were born without any of 
 the senses, he would remain in absolute ignorance of the 
 external world, even supposing it were possible for him to 
 have any mental life at all. 
 
 Antecedents of Sensations. We can be sure, then, 
 that sensations are a part, at any rate, of the elements of 
 which our intellectual life is composed. Evidently, there- 
 fore, in discussing the intellect, the subject to begin with 
 is sensation. 
 
 But what is a sensation ? If you ever watched a hunter, 
 at a little distance from you, in the act of firing at a bird, 
 you doubtless noticed that you saw the smoke before you 
 heard the report of his gun. The reason is, you say, that, 
 as sound does not travel as fast as light, you saw the 
 smoke before you heard the report, because the sound was 
 outstripped in the race. But what do you mean when you 
 say that sound travels? Surely not that the sensation 
 traveled, because there was no sensation there. Vibrations 
 of air alone were there not sensations. The only imme- 
 diate result of the firing of the gun was a rapid change in 
 the position of the particles of air not sound at all, but 
 something which we could see if air were visible, and if 
 the eye were quick and keen enough to follow its rapid
 
 THESE ANTECEDENTS ARE PHYSICAL FACTS. 165 
 
 changes. These vibrations of air do indeed travel in such 
 cases ; and as we in imagination follow them as they 
 radiate from the hunter as a centre, we can realize that 
 what we are following is not sensation, but motion. Pres- 
 ently, by means of the mechanism of the organ of hearing, 
 they reach the terminal fibres of the auditory nerve. Still 
 there is only motion. The vibrating particles of air cause 
 a change in the particles in these terminal fibres, and 
 these in the particles next to them, and so on, until the 
 brain centre is reached. Still we have nothing but motion. 
 But the change in the brain centre is followed by some- 
 thing that is not motion by that unique mental fact 
 which we call a sensation of sound. 
 
 These Antecedents are Physical Facts. You remem- 
 ber that a mental fact is one known or knowable by but 
 one person directly, while a physical fact may be known 
 by any number of persons certain conditions being com- 
 plied with. Evidently all the antecedents of the sensation 
 of sound which we have considered are physical facts. 
 The firing of a gun is a physical fact, since any number 
 of people can see it at the same time. Although we can 
 not say as much of the vibrating air, the reason is not 
 because of the nature of the fact, but because of defects in 
 our senses. If our senses were more acute, a large num- 
 ber of people might feel the vibrations of the air that 
 result from the firing of a gun, and hence it is a physical 
 fact. So also of the next antecedent, the changes in the 
 auditory nerve produced by the vibrations of the air. Of 
 course no one has ever seen them, because, in the first 
 place, the nerve itself can not be seen ; and in the second 
 place, if it could, its particles are so exceedingly small that
 
 1 66 SENSATION. 
 
 no changes in them could be seen. But here again the 
 reason is not because of the nature of the fact, but of the 
 conditions under which it exists, and of defects in our 
 senses. Plainly the same is true ot the changes in the 
 brain, which, like those in the auditory nerve, are physical 
 facts. But directly after these changes in the brain 
 perhaps, indeed, contemporaneous with them a fact 
 occurs utterly unlike the series of facts that preceded it 
 a fact which, because of its very nature, is knowable only 
 by the person experiencing it and that fact is the sen- 
 sation. 
 
 Suppose that the stars had been blotted out of existence, 
 and that they began to exist again while you were looking 
 up at the sky on a dark night, would they immediately 
 give you a sensation of sight ? Certainly not. The waves 
 of light would travel for years before they reach your eyes, 
 and even then there would be no sensation. The changes 
 in the retina of your eye would have to be communicated 
 to the optic nerve, and then to the brain centre, before 
 there could be a sensation. 
 
 The Four Antecedents. These examples enable us to 
 distinguish the several antecedents that precede sensation : l 
 
 i . An exciting cause something to produce a change 
 in the ends of the nerves. 
 
 . 2. The action of this cause upon the nerves. Vibrating 
 air that does not reach the auditory nerve does not tend to 
 produce a sensation of sound. 
 
 3. That change which takes place in the nerves in con- 
 sequence of the effect produced by the exciting cause upon 
 the particles of the nerve with which it comes in contact. 
 
 1 See Lindner's Psychology, p. 32.
 
 WHICH CAN BE DISPENSED WITH? 167 
 
 What the nature of that change is no one knows, except 
 that it is some kind of motion. You have often seen boys 
 stand a lot of bricks in a row, so that when one was pushed 
 down it fell against the next, and it against the one next it, 
 until all were thrown down. Spencer compares the effect 
 produced by a falling brick upon the rest of the row in the 
 above case to the effect produced by the change in the 
 particles of the end of the nerve upon the rest of them 
 not, of course, with the idea that there is any real resem- 
 blance in the two cases, but in order to help us imagine 
 how a change in one part of the nerve might be communi- 
 cated to the whole of it. 
 
 4. The change in the brain centre in consequence of 
 this change in the nerve. 
 
 Which of those can be Dispensed with ? Inasmuch 
 as it is this change that immediately precedes and occa- 
 sions or conditions the sensation, we would naturally 
 suppose that, if there were any way of producing it 
 without stimulating the nerve that leads to it, the same 
 sensation would exist that ordinarily results from stimu- 
 lating the nerve. The usual method of ringing a bell 
 is by pulling the bell-rope. 1 But as the sole utility of 
 pulling the rope is to make the bell swing, so that its 
 tongue may strike against its sides, and as the bell will 
 ring just as well when from any other cause its tongue 
 is put in motion, so we would suppose that, inasmuch as 
 the sole function of the nerves leading to the brain in 
 causing sensation is to cause a change in the brain centres, 
 if in any way that change is produced without the agency 
 of the nerve, the sensations would exist all the same. 
 
 1 This illustration was suggested by one used by Taine.
 
 1 68 SENSATION. 
 
 There are many facts indicating that this supposition 
 is true. 
 
 Blindfolded Chess-players. It is well known that 
 many chess-players can play with great skill with their 
 eyes closed and their faces turned towards the wall. A 
 man who possessed this power in a high degree gave the 
 following account of it : "When I am in my corner, facing 
 the wall, I see simultaneously the chess-board and all the 
 pieces as they were in reality after the last move ; and as 
 each piece is moved I see the whole chess-board, with the 
 new change effected. ... It is far easier to deceive me 
 when I watch the board than otherwise ; in fact, when 
 I am in my corner, I defy any one to mislead me as to the 
 position of a piece without my afterwards detecting it. ... 
 I see the piece, the square, and the color, exactly as the 
 workman made them that is, I see the chess-board 
 standing before my adversary; or, at all events, I have an 
 exact representation of it, and not that of another board." 
 Taine's Intelligence, p. 38. 
 
 The same author narrates. many other facts that point in 
 the same direction among others the following : " An 
 English painter, whose rapidity of execution was marvelous, 
 explained his mode of work in this way : ' When a sitter 
 came, I looked at him attentively for half an hour, sketch- 
 ing from time to time on the canvas. I wanted no more. 
 I put away my canvas and took another sitter. When I 
 wished to resume my first portrait, / took the man and sat 
 him in the chair, where I saw him as distinctly as if he 
 had been before me in his own proper person I may 
 almost say more vividly. I looked from time to time atj 
 the imaginary figure, then worked with my pencil, then
 
 EXAMPLES OF SENSATION. 169 
 
 referred to the countenance, and so on, just as I should 
 have done had the sitter been there. When I looked at 
 the chair I saw the man. Gradually I began to lose the 
 distinction between the imaginary figure and the real per- 
 son, and sometimes disputed with sitters that they had 
 been with me the day before. At last I was sure of it, 
 and then all is confusion. ... I lost my senses, and 
 was thirty years in an asylum.'" 1 
 
 These are a few of many cases that might be cited to 
 show that sensations often exist when the nerve that leads 
 to the brain is not stimulated. If we should hear a bell 
 ring when the rope was not pulled, we should be sure that 
 the same effect (swinging of the bell) existed as when the 
 rope was pulled. So, likewise, when sensations exist in 
 the manner described above, one can scarcely help believ- 
 ing that the bell was swinging without the rope being 
 pulled that there was the change in the cortical centre 
 that occasions and conditions sensation without the stimu- 
 lation of the nerve that usually causes it. 
 
 These four physical antecedents, then the exciting 
 cause, its action upon the nerve, change in the nerve, 
 changes in the brain usually precede the mental fact 
 that we call sensation. 
 
 Examples of Sensation. If now you were asked to 
 give examples of sensation, would you mention the hearing 
 of a drum and the seeing of a rose ? I do not believe you 
 would. Let us run over the series of facts that result 
 from the beating of a drum vibrating air, action upon 
 the auditory nerve, change all along the auditory nerve, 
 change in the brain and see if we can not distinguish 
 
 1 Taine's Intelligence, p. 46.
 
 I7O SENSATION. 
 
 between the next term, the sensation, and the hearing of 
 the drum. If you beat a drum in the presence of a new- 
 born babe, will he hear it ? No ; he will have a sensation 
 of sound, but he will not hear the drum. We may have 
 sensations of sound, and not hear anything ; sensations of 
 color, and not see anything ; sensations of smell, and not 
 smell anything ; sensations of touch, and not touch any- 
 thing ; sensations of taste, and not taste anything. 
 
 What do you mean when you say you see an apple ? 
 You mean, among other things, that you see a round 
 object, good to eat, and with a pleasant odor when brought 
 near the nose. Do you see its odor ? No ; you learn the 
 odor of things through the sense of smell. Do you see its 
 taste ? Again, no ; you learn the taste of things through 
 the sense of taste. Do you see its roundness ? No ; you 
 learn the shape of things by the sense of touch and the 
 muscular sense. How, then, are you able to know by 
 sight alone that an object before you has a certain shape, 
 taste, odor, etc. ? 
 
 To answer that question, suppose you ask yourself what 
 a man would know of an apple who saw one for the first 
 time, and who had never heard of one before. He would 
 know its shape, but he would know nothing of its odor 
 and taste. If he tastes and smells the apple, the next 
 time he sees an object resembling it closely in appear- 
 ance, it will be likely to occur to him that it resembles 
 it in taste and smell also in other words, that it is an 
 apple. 
 
 There is, you observe, a great difference between the 
 experience of color which you have when you are looking 
 at an apple, and the ideas of odor and taste that it sug- 
 gests. The experience of color is a present sensation ;
 
 DEFINITION OF SENSATION. 17 I 
 
 the ideas of odor and taste which it suggests are recollec- 
 tions of past sensations of taste and smell. 
 
 Definition of Sensation. We are now ready for the 
 definition of sensation. A sensation is that simple mental 
 fact that, under normal circumstances, directly follows the 
 last change in the brain in consequence of the stimulation 
 of a sensory nerve. 
 
 Note carefully the italicized words. I say, "directly 
 follows." If we bear that in mind, we shall not confuse 
 the sensation with what it suggests. The color of an 
 apple suggests its taste and odor ; but until you actually 
 taste and smell it, its taste and smell are not sensations, 
 because they do not directly follow the last change in the 
 brain resulting from the stimulation of a sensory nerve. 
 The only thing that directly follows the last change in the 
 brain is the sensation of color ; the thought of the taste 
 and smell of the apple are the result of the sensation, so 
 that this change in the brain makes you think of its smell 
 and taste through the sensation, or indirectly. 
 
 If we bear in mind the significance of the word " simple," 
 it will save us from the same mistake. When you are see- 
 ing, hearing, touching, and tasting things, your experience 
 is not simple. You have a sensation, and with it the 
 recollection of sensations that it suggests. 
 
 Sensations of Sight and Seeing. We can now see 
 
 how we can have a sensation of sight without seeing any- 
 thing. If you are walking along a road, the various objects 
 within the range of your vision probably produce sensations 
 of sight. Will you see the objects in case they do ? That 
 depends on whether they suggest the recollection of past
 
 172 SENSATION. 
 
 sensations. But, as we know, what we recollect depends 
 on what we attend to. When, therefore, you are absorbed 
 in thought, the chances are that you will see very few of 
 the objects that give you sensations of sight. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . Summarize the results reached in the last lesson. 
 
 2. What would be the logical course if one intended to write a 
 comprehensive treatise on the subject of Psychology, and why ? 
 
 3. Show that a large part of our knowledge takes its rise in sen- 
 sations. 
 
 4. Give examples of sensations from each of the five senses, dis- 
 criminating carefully their physical antecedents from the sensation. 
 
 5. Which of these physical antecedents may be dispensed with 
 without preventing the sensation from existing, and why? 
 
 6. Define sensation. Distinguish it from what it suggests. 
 
 7. How can we have sensations of sight without seeing anything ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. How would you explain the sensations experienced in dreaming? 
 
 2. If an explosion were to take place on a desert, in the absence 
 of any mind, would there be any sound ? 
 
 3. Is there any ambiguity in the words "sound," "color," "taste," 
 "smell," etc.? 
 
 4. What is the real difference between physical and mental facts ?
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 
 SENSATION. 
 (Continued.} 
 
 Are Colors, etc., only Mental Facts ? Let us 
 
 imagine ourselves taking a walk on one of those perfect 
 days in June that Lowell speaks of. The fresh, delicate 
 green of the trees, the songs of birds, and the odors of a 
 thousand flowers and blossoms, delight us. But in the 
 midst of our enjoyment the subject of the last lesson occurs 
 to us. We cease to enjoy ; we begin to think. We ask 
 each other if the conclusions reached in the last lesson, 
 which seemed so true as we worked them out by gaslight, 
 really do hold of the gorgeous panorama that lies spread 
 out before us. Is the delicate green of the trees, the deep 
 blue of the skies, merely a web of our own mental facts, a 
 garment of our own making, with which, unconsciously to 
 ourselves, we have covered up the unsightliness of nature? 
 Are the so-called songs of birds merely echoes in our own 
 souls of soundless motions without ? In one word, are the 
 colors and sounds and odors that seem to fill the scene 
 before us only mental facts things which, like the joys 
 and sorrows, the hopes and fears, that make up our con- 
 scious life, exist in our own minds, and nowhere else f 
 
 Whatever reason may say, our first impulse is to answer 
 with an emphatic negative. But as we follow in imagina- 
 tion the vibrations of air radiating from the birds in every 
 
 i73
 
 174 
 
 SENSATION. 
 
 direction, and the waves of light from the leaves of the 
 trees, we are forced to conclude that leaves, songs of birds, 
 blossoms, flowers are only exciting causes of effects 
 which appear in our conscious life as sensations. 
 
 But the thought is unwelcome. We had supposed our- 
 selves looking at green trees, and velvety hills, and a blue 
 sky ; our reasoning, like the wand of an envious magician, 
 seems to strip the world of its beauty, and leave us in the 
 presence of we know not what. We struggle to get 
 away from it. We feel as though an old friend, the recol- 
 lection of whose voice mingles with the earliest memories 
 of our childhood, had suddenly begun to speak to us in an 
 unknown tongue ; or rather, that the tones and language 
 with which we had thought ourselves entirely familiar, and 
 which had seemed to signify the most precious things in 
 life, had suddenly shivered into meaningless noises had 
 become " sound and fury, signifying nothing." 
 
 Sounds and Colors as Objective Facts. In our desire 
 to keep the world we have known, we first betake our- 
 selves to words. We bethink ourselves of our studies in 
 physics, and say that, although sounds and colors are sen- 
 sations, yet there are sounds and colors in nature. Un- 
 doubtedly, but of what kind ? The sounds in nature are 
 vibrations of air ; the colors, undulations of ether. Are 
 these what we think of when we speak of sounds and 
 colors ? If so, the terms with which we describe sounds 
 and colors will apply to motions ; when we are speaking of 
 sounds and colors, we are speaking of motions. Is it true, 
 then, that when we speak of sweet, melodious sounds, we 
 mean sweet, melodious motions? Or when we speak of 
 rich, gorgeous colors, do we mean rich, gorgeous motions ?
 
 COLORS AND SOUNDS. 175 
 
 A moment's thought convinces us that the things we have 
 in mind when we use these terms are not motions at all ; 
 the colors and sounds that we think of in ordinary life 
 that thrust themselves upon our notice every moment are 
 not undulations of ether and vibrations of air are not 
 things that the world learned about only after centuries of 
 investigation, but the colors and sounds of experience 
 
 sensations. 
 
 
 
 Colors and Sounds not Copies of External Facts. 
 
 Failing in this attempt, we try again. We say that, 
 although the colors and sounds that we talk about are 
 sensations, yet they are copies of facts that exist in the 
 external world. The colors, sounds, and odors of which 
 we have direct knowledge are sensations ; but as we know 
 how an object looks without looking at it if we see its 
 reflection in a mirror, so the sensations of consciousness 
 give us exact knowledge of the world beyond conscious- 
 ness; they are the reflections of objects in the external 
 world. The green that seems to be spread over the leaves 
 is indeed spread over them, but the green that we have 
 direct knowledge of is in our own minds. The green in 
 our minds is the sensation, the green of experience, the 
 copy ; the green of the leaves is the outside reality the 
 original. This is another of the methods by which we 
 seek to avoid accepting the conclusions of our own reason- 
 ings. 
 
 But we are at once confronted with a difficulty. I see 
 your picture hanging on the wall. I immediately recognize 
 it, because picture and original are both -before me. But 
 you point to another a picture of a gentleman whom I 
 have never seen and ask me if I think it good. Of
 
 176 SENSATION. 
 
 course I can not say, since I have never seen the original. 
 Before I can say whether a picture is like the original, I 
 must have seen both. As long as I look at a picture of 
 which I have never seen the original, I can not say either 
 that it is like the original, or that it has any original at 
 all. How, then, can we say that our sensations are like 
 the external things which cause them ? ^ 
 
 Before we began the investigations of the last lesson, 
 we thought that the odors, sounds, and colors of which we 
 have direct knowledge were physical facts, external to the 
 mind. But we learned in the last lesson that these sup- 
 posed physical facts are not physical facts at all. In order 
 to stand by our conclusion, and at the same time keep our 
 belief in the character of the external world, we have sup- 
 posed that there are parallel series of facts mental facts 
 of which we are conscious, and physical facts of which we 
 are not conscious ; the one a copy, the other the original. 
 But it is now evident that we have no right to say that 
 our sensations are copies of these external facts. We are 
 conscious of the one set of facts ; we are not conscious of 
 the other. Until we become conscious of both that is, 
 until both become sensations to say that one is a copy 
 of the other is to say that something we know is a copy of 
 something we do not know. 
 
 But that is not the only difficulty. You have great 
 skill in painting. Suppose I should ask you to make me a 
 picture of Yankee Doodle. You would tell me that my 
 request is absurd, would you not ? You would say that 
 sounds can resemble sounds, and colors colors, and tastes 
 tastes, but that there is such utter unlikeness between 
 sounds and colors that we can not use language intelli- 
 gently and say that any sound is like any color. Is not
 
 SENSATIONS AND NERVOUS SYSTEM. 177 
 
 the same true of mental and physical facts ? In what 
 sense can we say that a mental fact is a copy of a physi- 
 cal fact a state of consciousness a copy of something 
 that is not a state of consciousness? In no sense whatever. 
 We must say either that the world of sounds and tastes 
 and odors and colors is purely subjective, in the sense of 
 consisting of our own mental facts, or else that the con- 
 clusions reached in the last lesson are wrong. 
 
 What our Sensations are Depends on our Nervous 
 System. But, apart from these considerations, there are 
 many facts that make any other conclusion impossible. 
 That conclusion is that what we call the attributes or 
 qualities of objects tastes, smells, sounds, colors, etc. 
 are sensations which these objects produce in our minds 
 through the agency of our nervous system. How does it 
 happen that I can make the world look green or red or 
 blue or yellow by looking at it through green or red or blue 
 or yellow glass ? Or that I can change the apparent tem- 
 perature of water by changing the temperature of the hand 
 I put in it ? Or that when I am sick nothing tastes as it 
 does when I am well ? Evidently because the qualities of 
 objects are merely ways or modes in which the objects 
 affect us through the agency of the nervous system ; and 
 whenever for any reason a different effect is produced 
 upon the nervous system, the object seems to have a dif- 
 ferent quality because we have different sensations. In 
 the case of the colored glass, the nervous system is affected 
 differently because of a change produced by the glass upon 
 the agent light that acts upon the nervous sjstem. 
 In the last case spoken of, the difference in taste is due to 
 a difference in the condition of the nervous system itself,
 
 178 SENSATION. 
 
 in consequence of the disordered condition of the body. 
 Sometimes the quality we attribute to an object in other 
 words, the sensations produced by it depends upon the 
 part of the body affected. If you take a pair of compasses, 
 whose points are somewhat blunted, and place their points 
 on the forearm, in the direction of the length of the arm, 
 the two points will seem as one, unless they are more than 
 i ^ inches apart. But placed on the tip of the tongue, the 
 two points are distinguished as two when they are as much 
 as .0394 of an inch apart. 
 
 These facts make it certain that the quality of an object 
 is not something attached to, or inherent in, the object, but 
 merely the mode or way in which the object affects us 
 through the nervous system. As Professor Ziehen puts it, 
 "The constitution of the nervous system is an essential 
 factor in determining the quality of sensation. This fact 
 reveals the obvious error of former centuries, first refuted 
 by Locke, though still shared by nai've thought to-day, that 
 the objects about us themselves are colored warm, cold, etc. 
 As external to our consciousness, we can only assume 
 matter, vibrating with molecular motion and permeated by 
 vibrating particles of ether." 
 
 But Changes in the Nervous System not Always 
 Followed by Sensation. And yet we can not say that 
 everything which produces a change in the nervous system 
 produces a change in the sensation. If you hold a one- 
 pound weight in your hand when your arm is outstretched, 
 a friend may add one-half or two-thirds of an ounce if 
 you do. not see him without your knowing it. Not until 
 the added weight is about one-seventeenth the original will 
 you perceive the difference. And you will find by experi-
 
 WEBER S LAW. 179 
 
 ment that the same proportion holds if you make the 
 weight in your hand heavier i.e., if it be ten pounds, it 
 will be necessary to add nearly ten ounces before you can 
 detect the difference. 
 
 Weber's Law. This fact illustrates a law that governs 
 an immense multitude of facts. Says Professor Wundt : 
 
 " Every one knows that in the stillness of night we hear 
 things which are unperceived in the noise of day. The 
 gentle ticking of the clock, the distant bustle of the streets, 
 the creaking of the chairs in the room impress themselves 
 upon the ear. And every one knows that amid the con- 
 fused hubbub of the market-place, or the roar of a railway 
 train, we may lose what our neighbor is saying to us, or 
 even fail to hear our own voice. The stars which shine so 
 brightly at night are invisible by day ; and although we 
 can see the moon in the day-time, she is far paler than at 
 night. Every one who has had to do with weights knows 
 that if to a gramme in the hand we add a second gramme, 
 the difference is clearly noticed ; but if we add it to a kilo- 
 gramme, there is no knowledge of the increase. 
 
 "All these experiences are so common that we think 
 them self-evident. Really, that is by no means the case. 
 There can not be the least doubt that the clock ticks just 
 as loudly by day as by night. In the clamor of the street, 
 or amid the noise of the railway, we speak, if anything, 
 more loudly than is usual. Moon and stars do not vary in 
 the intensity of their light. And no one will deny that 
 a gramme weighs the same whether it is added to one 
 gramme or to a thousand. 
 
 "The sound of the clock, the light of the stars, the 
 pressure of the gramme weight, all these are sensation
 
 ISO SENSATION. 
 
 stimuli, and stimuli whose intensity always remains the 
 same. What, then, do these experiences teach us ? Evi- 
 dently nothing else than this : that one and the same 
 stimulus will be sensed as stronger or weaker, or not 
 sensed at all, according to the circtimstances iinder which 
 it operates}- But what kinds of change in the circum- 
 stances are there which can produce this alteration in 
 sensation ? On considering the matter closely, we dis- 
 cover that the change is everywhere of one kind. The 
 tick of the clock is a weak stimulus for our auditory nerves, 
 which we hear plainly when it is given by itself, but not 
 when it is added to a strong stimulus of rattling wheels 
 and all the other turmoil. The light of the stars is a 
 stimulus for the eye ; but if its stimulation is added to the 
 strong stimulus of daylight, we do not notice it, although 
 we sense it clearly when it is joined to the weak stimulus 
 of twilight. The gramme weight is a stimulus for our 
 skin which we sense when it is united to a present stimulus 
 of equal strength, but which vanishes when it is combined 
 with a stimulus of a thousand times its own intensity." 
 
 Such facts make it necessary for us to qualify the con- 
 clusion suggested by the facts before considered, and say 
 that, whenever the change produced by objects in the 
 nervous system reaches a certain degree -in other words, 
 when the new stimulus bears a certain ratio to the pre- 
 existing stimulus that change will be followed by a change 
 in the sensations. As the result of an immensely large 
 number of experiments the figures which express this ratio 
 in the several sense departments have been stated by 
 Professor Wundt as follows : 
 
 1 Italics not in the original.
 
 QUALITIES OF OBJECTS. l8l 
 
 Light-sensation 
 Muscle-sensation -^ 
 
 Pressure-sensation - ^ 
 
 Sound-sensation - - ^ 
 
 In other words, if we represent the intensity of light 
 acting upon the eyes at any time by 100, in order that a 
 new light may be perceived, it must be at least as intense 
 as YDTJ- of the preceding light stimulus. If we are to hear 
 a new sound in the midst of a pre-existing hubbub of 
 noises, it must at least be as intense as ^ of the pre-exist- 
 ing noise stimulus, and so on. This law is called Weber's 
 law, because it was discovered by the physiologist Ernst 
 Heinrich Weber. 
 
 Are Sensations Always Regarded as Qualities of Ob- 
 jects ? But an interesting question here arises : the 
 question as to whether our sensations always wore the 
 character they now bear the character of seeming to be 
 what they are not objective qualities of objects, rather 
 than subjective effects of these objects, produced through 
 the nervous system ; or whether in the beginning of our 
 conscious life they appeared to be what they are ex- 
 periences of our own minds ; or whether, indeed, they did 
 not appear to be either, but were simply felt, in a vague 
 indefinite way. A very slight observation of a new-born 
 child will be sufficient to convince us that his sensations 
 do not seem to him as ours do to us. As we have seen 
 already, it is probable that in the beginning of our mental 
 life we have no definite sensations. Little by little, a 
 child's, sensations become definite; little by little, they are 
 built up into the qualities and attributes of the external 
 world. How is it done ? That is a difficult question, the
 
 1 82 SENSATION. 
 
 answer to which is the solution of the problem of percep- 
 tion. But before we can attempt to consider it, we must 
 study two laws which play an important part in the matter 
 the law of habit and the law of the association of ideas. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Do you find yourself unwilling to believe that colors, sounds, 
 etc., are sensations ? 
 
 2. What are the sounds and colors spoken of by physics ? 
 
 3. Show that our sensations are not copies of physical facts. 
 
 4. Mention other facts showing that what, the world appears to 
 us to be depends on changes in the nervous system. 
 
 5. Is every change in the nervous system followed by a change in 
 the sensation ? 
 
 6. What is Weber's law ? State the evidence, so far as you know 
 it, on which it is based. 
 
 7. Do a child's sensations seem to be qualities of objects ? 
 
 8. What is the problem of perception ?
 
 LESSON XX. 
 
 THE LAW OF HABIT. 
 
 WE have already had occasion to notice some of the 
 phenomena of habit. The child, at first unable to walk, 
 then only a step or two and with great difficulty ; the 
 cyclist, at first obliged to give his entire attention to his 
 wheel ; the learner on the piano slowly spelling out the 
 notes are cases in point. Child, cyclist, pianist, all acquire 
 the skill which finally seems a sort of second nature through 
 habit. 
 
 Reid on Habit. Reid says : " As without instinct the 
 infant could not live to become a man, so without habit 
 man would remain an infant through life, and would be as 
 helpless, as unhandy, as speechless, and as much a child 
 in understanding at three-score as at three." 
 
 Strong as this statement seems, it is probably an under- 
 statement of the truth. Without habit, we should rather 
 say, a man would be as helpless, as speechless, as unhandy 
 at three-score as at birth. Habit is the architect that 
 builds the feeble rudimentary powers of the child into the 
 strong, developed powers of the full-grown man. If a 
 child's vague, purposeless movements give place to definite 
 movements performed for definite purposes, if his sensa- 
 tions become more definite, if his perceptions become 
 
 183
 
 184 THE LAW OF HABIT. 
 
 clearer, if his memory becomes more accurate, if he 
 reasons more and more correctly and logically, it is be- 
 cause of habit. 
 
 Law of Habit. What is the law of habit ? It is that 
 every time we perform any action, mental or physical, we 
 have more proneness to, and greater facility for, the per- 
 formance of that action under similar circumstances than 
 we had before. All the curious gestures, ways of holding 
 the hands, attitudes, modes of speech, and the like that 
 characterize the various people we know, are due to the 
 law of habit. 
 
 Does Growth Depend on Habit ? Sully says that the 
 " formation of a disposition to think, feel, etc., in the same 
 way as before, underlies what we call habit," and that " in 
 its most comprehensive sense " it means " a fixed tendency 
 to think, feel, or act in a particular way under special cir- 
 cumstances." He thinks that " habit refers to the fixing 
 of mental operations in particular directions," and hence, 
 that it does not constitute the sole ingredient of intellec- 
 tual development. He thinks that it is "the element of 
 persistence, of custom, the conservative tendency" and 
 that since " growth implies flexibility, modifiability, suscep- 
 tibility to new impressions, the progressive tendency," 
 " habit is in a manner opposed to growth." 
 
 Is he right ? Is it true that habit is in a manner 
 opposed to growth ? I do not think so. 
 
 Habits and the Law of Habit. His opinion grows 
 out of a failure to distinguish between habits and the law 
 of habit. Many particular habits undoubtedly are bad.
 
 HABITS AND THE LAW OF HABIT. 185 
 
 A man may form the habit of reasoning on insufficient 
 data, or of observing carelessly ; he may form the habit of 
 forgetting that he is finite, and so liable to mistakes ; that 
 all that he has thought on any subject may be wrong 
 because he may have overlooked some fact already known, 
 or because some unknown fact may contradict all his con- 
 clusions. He may form the habit of laying great emphasis 
 on consistency, that " hobgoblin of little minds," and so go 
 through the world with his head turned over his shoulder 
 determining what he will believe to-day by what he believed 
 yesterday. He may form the habit of deciding what he 
 will believe by some other principle than reason. As the 
 Chinese go to Confucius, and Catholics to the Pope, to tell 
 them what to believe, so he may go to his father, or some 
 politician, or the convention of his party, or his newspaper 
 to tell him what to believe. These habits are unfavorable 
 to growth, and are therefore bad habits ; but is there any- 
 thing in the nature of the law of habit to make it necessary 
 for us to form bad habits ? Are there not some open-minded, 
 cautious, independent reasoners ? What is an open-minded 
 reasoner ? He is one who has formed the habit of being 
 constantly on the alert to find new evidence ; one who 
 knows and feels that when men have done their utmost to 
 avoid error, they can not be so sure they are right as to 
 shut their minds to all further considerations ; one who has 
 so habituated himself to considering the supreme difficulty 
 of arriving at the truth in any matter of complexity that 
 he is rather inclined to wonder that men are ever right, 
 than to assume that they can consider themselves as un- 
 doubtedly right whenever they reach a conclusion. What 
 is a cautious reasoner ? He is one who has so accustomed 
 himself to the thought of the infiniteness of the universe,
 
 !86 THE LAW OF HABIT. 
 
 that what is known in comparison with what is, seems to 
 him like a drop of water in comparison with the Pacific 
 Ocean, and hence he habitually realizes the absolute neces- 
 sity of collecting as many facts as possible bearing on any 
 matter under consideration before he reaches a conclusion. 
 What is an independent reasoner ? He is one who has no 
 Confucius, one who does not go to his father, or to any 
 influential politician, or to his party convention, or his 
 newspaper to find out what to believe one who does not 
 use his reason to find arguments to defend conclusions 
 furnished him from some external source, but uses it to 
 learn what is true. 
 
 Habits Depend on what we Do. Such habits, be it 
 noted, are as much the result of the law of habit as are 
 the habits that are opposed to growth. The law of habit 
 tends to make us whatever we want to be enough to ex- 
 press our desires in action. Is there any antagonism 
 between such habits and growth ? Can we say that such 
 habits represent the conservative tendency ? I can not 
 think so. When teachers come to realize that this charac- 
 teristic of open-mindedness and caution and independence 
 is not only one of the rarest among educated men, but one 
 of the most important ; when they realize that no matter 
 how able and brilliant a man may seem, he is a fossil, a 
 thing of arrested development, precisely to the extent to 
 which he is lacking in this characteristic ; when they have 
 become profoundly convinced of the fact that the supreme 
 difference between the most progressive civilizations in the 
 world and such nations as the Chinese, is that the people 
 of the former have formed the habit, to some extent, of 
 going to reason to tell them what to believe, and the
 
 HABITS OF REASONING. 187 
 
 people of the latter have formed the habit of accepting 
 their beliefs on authority, they will not only be sure that 
 there is no antagonism between growth and habit, but 
 that an important part of their work consists in rooting 
 up the habits which would confine the thoughts of their 
 pupils within the thoughts of the past, by helping them 
 to form habits of open-minded, cautious, independent 
 reasoning. 
 
 Influence of Example in Forming Habits of Reason- 
 ing. We can not help our pupils form that habit until 
 we have formed it for ourselves. It is the example of 
 open-minded, cautious, independent reasoning ; it is the 
 fervid appeal to students not to imitate a flock of sheep, 
 who jump when their leader has jumped, and do not jump 
 when he has not jumped, without regard to the considera- 
 tions that influenced him a fervor which can emanate 
 only from one who so believes in, as to practice that kind 
 of reasoning ; it is the keen and merciless exposure of the 
 utter irrationality of unreasonableness by one whose whole 
 being is saturated with the conviction that gives students 
 the strongest impulse to the formation of the habit of 
 reasoning in this way. 
 
 Example of Socrates. Moreover, we should ourselves 
 love the truth more than we love our own opinions if we 
 wish to make our pupils open-minded reasoners. Socrates, 
 arguing the question as to the immortality of the soul an 
 hour before he was to suffer death for crimes that he had 
 not committed, gives us a beautiful example of this. Two 
 of his companions have stated an objection which has 
 inflicted a wound, as he says, on his argument. He admits
 
 1 88 THE LAW OF HABIT. 
 
 that he has the temper of a partisan, rather than that of 
 a philosopher, since he wishes to convince himself of the 
 immortality of the soul. But even under such circum- 
 stances, his loyalty to truth shines out like a star of the 
 first magnitude. "This is the state of mind," he said, 
 "... in which I approach the argument. And I would 
 ask you to be thinking of the truth and not of Socrates : 
 agree with me if I seem to you to be speaking the truth ; 
 or if not, withstand me might and main, that I may not 
 deceive you as well as myself in my enthusiasm and, like 
 the bee, leave my sting in you before I die." 
 
 Basis of Habit. Is the basis of habit physical or 
 mental ? In other words, is the law of habit due to the 
 fact that our bodies, and especially our nervous systems, 
 are constituted as they are, or is it due to the character 
 of our minds? Is the law of habit due to the fact that 
 whatever we do leaves an effect upon some part of the 
 body which makes it easier to do the same thing under 
 similar circumstances, or is it an ultimate law of the mind 
 as such, about which no more can be said than that it is 
 a fact ? 
 
 Stupidity of some Actions Performed through Habit. 
 
 - Numerous facts indicate that the former is the case. 
 The utter stupidity of many actions performed through 
 habit make it hard to believe that the mind has anything 
 to do with them. I have heard of a student who picked 
 up a coal-scuttle on a cold winter-day, took it to a pump, 
 and filled it with water, and then emptied it into his stove. 
 If the basis of habit is physical, we can understand such 
 cases. In that case we are to regard the body as tending
 
 ETHICAL AND PEDAGOGICAL INFERENCES. 189 
 
 to become under the influence of the mind, a vast complex 
 of machines fitted to perform certain actions when the 
 conditions are fulfilled, whether the performance of the 
 action leads to an intelligent result or not. In the language 
 of Professor Ladd, we should in that case regard habitual 
 actions as " done for the psychic life by a physical autom- 
 aton rather than in or by the psychic life." We should 
 say that "when this automaton once becomes trained 
 under conscious physical influences, it performs many 
 highly complicated and purposeful motor changes, without 
 troubling the flow of consciousness to pay attention to 
 them." But as those purposeful actions are performed 
 because certain physical conditions are fulfilled, so when 
 these physical conditions are fulfilled, these actions will be 
 performed whether they are purposeful or not, as a gun 
 will fire with equal readiness whether it is intelligently 
 directed at a dangerous enemy, or whether it is aimed by 
 a lunatic at a man whose life is essential to the welfare of 
 the State. Assuming, then, that the law of habit has a 
 physical basis, we have an easy explanation of the stupidity 
 of many mechanical actions. The physical machine goes 
 off, so to speak, whenever the trigger is pulled, whether 
 the result is purposeful or not. But upon the supposition 
 that the law of habit has its basis in the mind, we are con- 
 fronted with the remarkable fact that actions imputed to 
 intelligence are often wholly destitute of all the qualities 
 that are characteristic of intelligence. 
 
 Ethical and Pedagogical Inferences. Professor James 
 has stated the ethical and pedagogical inferences from the 
 law of habit so much better than any one else, that I shall 
 quote him at length.
 
 190 THE LAW OF HABIT. 
 
 Importance of a Strong Initiative. " In Professor 
 Bain's chapter on 'The Moral Habits' there are some 
 admirable practical remarks laid down. Two great maxims 
 emerge from his treatment. The first is that in the acqui- 
 sition of a new habit, or the leaving off of an old one, we 
 must take care to launch ourselves with as strong and 
 decided an initiative as possible. Accumulate all the 
 possible circumstances which shall re-enforce the right 
 motives; put yourself assiduously in conditions that en- 
 courage the new way; make engagements incompatible 
 with the old ; take a public pledge, if the case allows ; in 
 short, envelop your resolution with every aid you know. 
 This will give your new beginning such a momentum that 
 the temptation to break down will not occur as soon as it 
 otherwise might ; and every day during which a break- 
 down is postponed adds to the chances of its not occurring 
 at all. 
 
 Never Suffer an Exception to Occur. " The second 
 maxim is : Never suffer an exception to occur till the 
 new habit is securely rooted in your life. Each lapse is 
 like the letting fall of a ball of string which one is care- 
 fully winding up ; a single slip undoes more than a great 
 many turns will wind again. Continuity of training is the 
 great means of making the nervous system act infallibly 
 right. As Professor Bain says : 
 
 "'The peculiarity of the moral habits, contradistinguish- 
 ing them from the intellectual acquisitions, is the presence 
 of two hostile powers, one to be gradually raised into the 
 ascendant over the other. It is necessary, above all 
 things, in such a situation, never to lose a battle. .Every 
 gain on the wrong side undoes the effect of many con-
 
 ACT ON FIRST OPPORTUNITY. 191 
 
 quests on the right. The essential precaution, therefore, 
 is so to regulate the two opposing powers that the one may 
 have a series of uninterrupted successes, until repetition 
 has fortified it to such a degree as to enable it to cope 
 with the opposition, under any circumstances. This is the 
 theoretically best career of mental progress.' 
 
 Act on First Opportunity. "A third maxim may be 
 added to the preceding pair : Seize the very first possible 
 opportunity to act on every resolution you make, and on 
 every emotional prompting you may experience in the 
 direction of the habits you aspire to gain. It is not in 
 the moment of their forming, but in the moment of their 
 producing motor effects, that resolves and aspirations com- 
 municate the new 'set' to the brain. As the author last 
 quoted remarks : 
 
 " ' The actual presence of the practical opportunity alone 
 furnishes the fulcrum upon which the lever can rest, by 
 means of which the moral will may multiply its strength, 
 and raise itself aloft. He who has no solid ground to press 
 against will never get beyond the stage of empty gesture- 
 making.' 
 
 Actions versus Sentiments and Maxims. "No matter 
 how full a reservoir of maxims one may possess, and no 
 matter how good one's sentiments may be, if one have not 
 taken advantage of every concrete opportunity to act, one's 
 character may remain entirely unaffected for the better. 
 With mere good intentions, hell is proverbially paved. And 
 this is an obvious consequence of the principles we have 
 laid down. 'A character,' as J. S. Mill says, 'is a com- 
 pletely fashioned will ' ; and a will, in the sense in which
 
 192 THE LAW OF HABIT. 
 
 he means it, is an aggregate of tendencies to act in a firm 
 and prompt and definite way upon all the principal emer- 
 gencies of life. A tendency to act only becomes effectively 
 ingrained in us in proportion to the uninterrupted fre- 
 quency with which the actions actually occur, and the 
 brain 'grows' to their use. Every time a resolve or a 
 fine glow of feeling evaporates without bearing practical 
 fruit is worse than a chance lost ; it works so as positively 
 to hinder future resolutions and emotions from taking the 
 normal path of discharge. There is no more contemptible 
 type of human character than that of the nerveless senti- 
 mentalist and dreamer, who spends his life in a weltering 
 sea of sensibility and emotion, but who never does a 
 manly concrete deed. Rousseau, inflaming all the mothers 
 of France, by his eloquence, to follow Nature and nurse 
 their babies themselves, while he sends his own children 
 to the foundling hospital, is the classical example of what 
 I mean. But every one of us in his measure, whenever, 
 after glowing for an abstractly formulated Good, he practi- 
 cally ignores some actual case, among the squalid 'other 
 particulars' of which that same Good lurks disguised, treads 
 straight on Rousseau's path. All Goods are disguised by 
 the vulgarity of their concomitants, in this work-a-day world ; 
 but woe to him who can only recognize them when he thinks 
 them in their pure and abstract form ! The habit of exces- 
 sive novel-reading and theatre-going will produce true mon- 
 sters in this line. The weeping of a Russian lady over the 
 fictitious personages in the play, while her coachman is 
 freezing to death on his seat outside, is the sort of thing that 
 everywhere happens on a less glaring scale. Even the 
 habit of excessive indulgence in music, for those who are 
 neither performers themselves nor musically gifted enough
 
 CULTIVATE FACULTY OF EFFORT. 193 
 
 to take it in a purely intellectual way, has probably a 
 relaxing effect upon the character. One becomes filled 
 with emotions which habitually pass without prompting to 
 any deed, and so the inertly sentimental condition is kept 
 up. The remedy would be, never to suffer tme's self to 
 have an emotion at a concert, without expressing it after- 
 ward in some active way. Let the expression be the least 
 thing in the world speaking genially to one's aunt, or 
 giving up one's seat in a horse-car, if nothing more heroic 
 offers but let it not fail to take place. 
 
 "These latter cases make us aware that it is not simply 
 particular lines of discharge, but also general forms of 
 discharge, that seem to be grooved out by habit in the 
 brain. Just as, if we let our emotions evaporate, they get 
 into a way of evaporating ; so there is reason to suppose 
 that if we often flinch from making an effort, before we 
 know it the effort-making capacity will be gone ; and that, 
 if we suffer the wandering of our attention, presently it 
 will wander all the time. Attention and effort are, as we 
 shall see later, but two names for the same psychic fact. 
 To what brain-processes they correspond we do not know. 
 The strongest reason for believing that they do depend on 
 brain-processes at all, and are not pure acts of the spirit, 
 is just this fact, that they seem in some degree subject to 
 the law of habit, which is a material law. 
 
 Cultivate Faculty of Effort. "As a final practical 
 maxim, relative to these habits of the will, we may, then, 
 offer something like this : Keep the faculty of effort alive 
 in you by a little gratuitous exercise every day. That is, 
 be systematically ascetic or heroic in little unnecessary 
 points, do every day or two something for no other reason
 
 194 THE LAW OF HABIT - 
 
 than that you would rather not do it, so that when the 
 hour of dire need draws nigh, it may find you not unnerved 
 and untrained to stand the test. Asceticism of this sort is 
 like the insurance which a man pays on his house and goods. 
 The tax does him no good at the time, and possibly may 
 never bring him a return. But if the fire does come, his 
 having paid it will be his salvation from ruin. So with the 
 man who has daily inured himself to habits of concentrated 
 attention, energetic volition, and self-denial in unnecessary 
 things. He will stand like a tower when everything rocks 
 around him, and when his softer fellow-mortals are win- 
 nowed like chaff in the blast. 
 
 Physiological Study of Mental Conditions an Ally of 
 Ethics. "The physiological study of mental conditions is 
 thus the most powerful ally of hortatory ethics. The hell 
 to be endured hereafter, of which theology tells, is no 
 worse than the hell we make for ourselves in this world 
 by habitually fashioning our characters in the wrong way. 
 Could the young but realize how soon they will become 
 mere walking bundles of habit, they would give more heed 
 to their conduct while in the plastic state. We are spin- 
 ning our own fates, good or evil, and never to be undone. 
 Every smallest stroke of virtue or of vice leaves its never 
 so little scar. The drunken Rip Van Winkle, in Jefferson's 
 play, excuses himself for every fresh dereliction by say- 
 ing : ' I won't count this time ! ' Well ! he may not count 
 it, and a kind Heaven may not count it ; but it is being 
 counted none the less. Down among his nerve cells and 
 fibres the molecules are counting it, registering and storing 
 it up to be used against him when the next temptation 
 comes. Nothing we ever do is, in strict scientific literal-
 
 STUDY OF MENTAL CONDITIONS. 195 
 
 ness, wiped out. Of course, this has its good side as well 
 as its bad one. As we become permanent drunkards by 
 so many separate drinks, so we become saints in the 
 moral, and authorities and experts in the practical and 
 scientific spheres, by so many separate acts and hours of 
 work. Let no youth have any anxiety about the upshot of 
 his education, whatever the line of it may be. If he keep 
 faithfully busy each hour of the working-day, he may 
 safely leave the final result to itself. He can with perfect 
 certainty count on waking up some fine morning, to find 
 himself one of the competent ones of his generation, in 
 whatever pursuit he may have singled out. Silently, be- 
 tween all the details of his business, the power of judging 
 in all that class of matter will have built itself up within 
 him as a possession that will never pass away. Young 
 people should know this truth in advance. The ignorance 
 of it has probably engendered more discouragement and 
 faint-heartedness in youths embarking on arduous careers 
 than all other causes put together." 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What is the law of habit ? 
 
 2. How does Sully define it? 
 
 3. Is he right? 
 
 4. Distinguish between the law of habit, and habits. 
 
 5. What can we do to make our pupils cautious and independent 
 reasoners ? 
 
 6. Is the basis of habit physical or mental ? 
 
 7. Enumerate the maxims which Professor James infers from the 
 law of habit.
 
 LESSON XXL 
 
 ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 Association of Ideas Illustrated. If you think about 
 anything, no matter what, you are sure to find yourself 
 thinking, the moment after, of something connected with 
 it. Think about the last school you attended, and you may 
 think of a schoolmate, or of some of the books you studied, 
 or of some of the games you played. Think of Napoleon, 
 and you may think of a friend who lent you a book about 
 him, or of some of his battles, or of Alexander or Caesar. 
 This fact, that thinking of anything tends to make us think 
 of something else connected with it, is called the associa- 
 tion of ideas. 
 
 Different Kinds. If you watch the course of your 
 thoughts for an hour, you will find that there are very 
 different kinds of connection between the ideas recalled 
 and the experiences that recall them. If you think of a 
 hill, it may make you think of a walk you took there last 
 night, or of one like it near your own home. The thought 
 of the hill makes you think of the walk you took there, 
 because when you were taking the walk you thought of 
 the hill. In other words, the thought of the hill and the 
 thought of the wa-lk were in your mind at the same time. 
 The thought of the hill makes you think of one like it near 
 
 196
 
 MECHANICAL ASSOCIATION. 197 
 
 your home, not because you have ever seen or thought of 
 them both at the same time before, but because they are 
 like each other. 
 
 Association of the first kind association by contiguity, 
 as it is generally termed is sometimes called mechanical 
 association ; and I think it will be useful for us to remem- 
 ber both names, and the reasons for them. It is called 
 association by contiguity because contiguity means near- 
 ness, and the things associated by contiguity were thought 
 of at or about the same time. It is called mechanical 
 association to contrast it with another kind of association 
 called logical or rational. When the thought of the hill 
 makes you think of one like it near your own home, it is 
 because there is an inner relation similarity and not 
 a mere external, mechanical relation between them. But 
 if the first time a child sees a Chinaman and a steam- 
 engine he sees them both together, the next time he sees 
 one of them he will be likely to think of the other, not 
 because they have an inner connection, but because they 
 were seen at the same time. Hence this kind of associa- 
 tion is called mechanical, because the things associated 
 have only an external or mechanical connection ; it is 
 called association by contiguity because they were thought 
 of at or about the same time. 
 
 Mechanical Association. Evidently the connecting 
 link in the case of things mechanically associated is time ; 
 but we must be careful to remember that the time which 
 forms this connecting link is not the time in which events 
 happen, but the time in which we think of them. The 
 Declaration of Independence makes you think of the 
 Fourth of July, not because it was made on that day, but
 
 198 ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 because the thought of the two has been in your mind at 
 the same time. 
 
 Logical Association. But in order that we may asso- 
 ciate things rationally or logically, we must be able to per- 
 ceive some inner relation between them. Things as un- 
 related as it is possible for things to be in this world may 
 be brought side by side in space ; and if so, we may see 
 them at the same time, and so associate them mechanically. 
 But in order to associate them logically we must be able 
 to apprehend an inner relation between them a relation 
 not depending on accident or chance, but growing out of 
 their very nature. 
 
 Of these inner relations, besides likeness, the relations 
 of cause and effect, of instrument and use, of means and 
 end, of premise and conclusion, of law and example, at 
 once occur to us ; and a careful study of them will enable 
 us to realize the contrast between trie innerness of logical 
 relations and the outerness of mechanical relations. Two 
 peaches can not but be like each other they would not 
 be peaches if they were not ; a good school must be a use- 
 ful agency in developing the minds of its pupils ; fire must 
 throw out heat as long as the present constitution of the 
 world remains the same. In all these cases it is evident 
 that the relation is not external or accidental or casual, 
 but inner growing out of the very nature of the things 
 themselves. 
 
 Importance of the Distinction between Mechanical 
 and Logical Association. The distinction between 
 mechanical and rational association is of the first impor- 
 tance in Psychology. Many psychologists hold a theory of
 
 RATIONALLY ASSOCIATED IDEAS. 199 
 
 the mind which would do away with all rational association 
 which would make what seems to be rational association 
 nothing but mechanical association. I can not but think 
 that they are wrong. But we need to note that many 
 actions that seem to be due to rational associations may 
 be, and probably are, due to mechanical associations. 
 When a dog goes out into the field, about sunset, and drives 
 a herd of cows home, it seems to be a case of rational asso- 
 ciation. It seems as though he had perceived the rela- 
 tion between milking time and driving the cows into the 
 pound in order to be milked. We are inclined to suppose 
 that his thoughts took some such form as the following : 
 " It is about milking time, so I will bring the cows home 
 in order that they may be milked." But more careful 
 consideration will make it clear that we need not suppose 
 any such thing. We may suppose that the various circum- 
 stances characteristic of approaching sunset caused the 
 idea of going after the cows to arise in his mind by purely 
 mechanical associations. In other words, the perception 
 of approaching sunset was followed in his mind by the 
 thought of going after the cows without any perception of 
 the relation between them, and the thought of going after 
 the cows by the sensations of motion resulting from carry- 
 ing his idea into effect, without any perception of the 
 relation between bringing them home and milking time. 
 What seems to be a case of reasoning may be, and prob- 
 ably is, nothing but a series of mechanical associations. 
 
 Why Ideas Rationally Associated Recall Each Other. 
 
 But why does a cause make us think of its effect ; a 
 means, of the end it is adapted to reach ; an instrument, 
 of its use ; a premise, of a conclusion ? Partly because
 
 2OO ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 the thought of the two has been in the mind at the same 
 time. But that this is not a complete answer is evident 
 from the fact that, of the various thoughts in our minds at 
 the same time, those are most likely to recall each other 
 that have some inner relation. Of the things we think of 
 during the course of a day, most of them pass away beyond 
 the possibility of recall, because they are meaningless, 
 isolated, disconnected because the only connection be- 
 tween them is the time in which we think of them. 
 Evidently, therefore, there is something in the fact that 
 thoughts have some logical connection, which tends to 
 make them recall each other. Let us see if we can learn 
 what it is. 
 
 Because Apprehension of Relations is a Source of 
 Pleasure. We know that anything upon which we fix 
 our minds for a considerable length of time anything 
 that interests us, anything that for any reason we attend 
 to is more likely to be recalled than the things which 
 merely flit across our minds like shadows across a land- 
 scape. But the things that have an inner relation are 
 precisely those we are sure to attend to, provided we 
 apprehend the relation. We are sure to attend to them 
 in the first place, because the apprehension of relations is 
 a source of keen intellectual pleasure. We have seen 
 already how it delights the mind to have a lot of discon- 
 nected, straggling facts marshaled into compact array, 
 each one dropping into its proper place in relation to the 
 rest. It increases our sense of power. To carry a load of 
 facts by mechanical association has been aptly compared 
 to the carrying of food " in a bundle strapped upon the 
 back " ; the carrying of the same facts by rational associa-
 
 APPREHENSION OF RELATIONS. 2OI 
 
 tion, to the carrying of the same food "eaten, digested, 
 and wrought over into the bones and muscles which hold 
 the body firm and solid." Now, whatever adds to our 
 sense of power whatever gives us pleasure is sure to 
 be attended to ; and the greater the feeling of power, and 
 the keener the pleasure it gives us, the greater the amount 
 of attention we give it. 
 
 Also of Practical Importance. But apart from this 
 the apprehension of inner relations is of the greatest prac- 
 tical interest to us. The ability to go from effects to 
 causes and from causes to effects, from laws to examples 
 and from facts to laws, from premises to conclusions and 
 from particulars to premises, to adapt means to their ends 
 and instruments to their uses, not only marks the great 
 difference between the mind of a civilized man and that of a 
 savage, but results in the almost infinitely greater command 
 that the former has over the resources of nature. To have 
 special ability in the apprehension of the inner relations of 
 things is to have power not only as an intellectual posses- 
 sion, but in the sense of ability to accomplish the things 
 that men wish to accomplish in life. This is another rea- 
 son why we are sure to attend to things when we perceive 
 their inner relations ; whether they have a natural interest 
 for us or not, they have an acquired interest, because we 
 know we can use such knowledge in reaching desired 
 results. 
 
 Influence of Habit. These two causes bring a third 
 one into operation. Because of these two causes a large 
 part of our intellectual life consists in the search for inner 
 relations. Study, as we first conceived it, consisted in the
 
 2O2 ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 exercise of mechanical association. But both as students 
 and as men and women of the world we have come to have 
 an entirely different notion of it. We have come to see 
 that study thought consists in the attempt to appre- 
 hend the inner relations of things and to see that progress 
 no matter in what direction depends upon the success 
 of our efforts. In this way we form the habit of noticing 
 the inner relations of things, even when we do not see how 
 the knowledge is likely to be of practical value. For these 
 three reasons, then, (i) because of the pleasure the mind 
 derives from the perception of inner relations ; (2) because 
 of the practical interest such relations have for us ; and 
 (3) because of habit we are more likely to attend to 
 things between which the mind perceives them than to 
 disconnected facts. The reason, therefore, why we are 
 more likely to recall things associated logically than we 
 are to recall any other facts experienced at the same time 
 is because the former are more closely attended to. 
 
 We are left, then, with two great laws of association : 
 The law of association by contiguity that thoughts or ideas 
 or experiences that have been in the mind at or about the 
 same time tend to recall each other ; and the law of associa- 
 tion by similarity that similar thoughts or ideas or expe- 
 riences tend to recall each other, 
 
 Spontaneous Reproduction. Many psychologists con- 
 tend that the explanation of the appearance of every idea 
 in the mind is found in the law of association ; that, no 
 matter what we find ourselves thinking of, the reason why 
 we are thinking of it is that it was " suggested " by some 
 other idea or experience. Others among them Professor 
 Ladd contend that there is such a thing as spontaneous
 
 SIMILARITY AND CONTIGUITY. 203 
 
 reproduction, such a thing as the appearance of ideas not 
 suggested by other ideas but due to the fact that " every 
 vivid, life-like, and frequently repeated impression tends to 
 reproduce itself again and again." 
 
 It seems to me that the advocates of spontaneous repro- 
 duction are right. Who has not found himself haunted 
 hour after hour and sometimes day after day by some 
 pleasing melody. " I can not get it out of my mind," we 
 say at such times. And the man is fortunate who has not 
 found himself haunted by an entirely different experience, 
 a sense of calamity and trouble from which he can not 
 escape, which follows him like his shadow. The fact cer- 
 tainly seems to be, not that everything suggests these 
 experiences, but rather " that we can not find percepts or 
 ideas impressive enough to suggest any other than the 
 dominant idea." At such times men sometimes try and 
 how often in vain ! to put their minds on a book in order 
 to get away from the unwelcome thoughts, as a sufferer 
 from toothache seeks by similar methods to forget his 
 agonizing pain. And as a man suffering from toothache 
 often finds it impossible to forget it, because its cause 
 is found in existing nervous conditions, so we often find 
 it impossible to get away from the troubles that oppress 
 us, because their spontaneous tendency to occupy the 
 mind is more than a match for the ideas that we are able 
 to bring before us by the association of ideas. 
 
 Can Association by Similarity be Explained by 
 Association by Contiguity ? Some psychologists at- 
 tempt to explain association by similarity by association 
 by contiguity. The following quotation from Thomas 
 Brown will explain their position : " A ruff like that worn
 
 204 ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 by Queen Elizabeth brings before us the sovereign her- 
 self, though the person who wears the ruff may have no 
 other circumstance of resemblance ; . . . it is necessary 
 only that a part of the complexity (the Queen) should be 
 recalled as the ruff to bring back all the other parts, 
 by the mere principle of contiguity. ... In like manner 
 we might be able to reduce every case of suggestion" 
 association " from direct resemblance to the influence 
 of mere contiguity." 
 
 We might state his illustration this way : ruff -f- a b c d 
 (abed meaning a person wearing it) recalls ruff -f- efgh 
 (?fgh meaning Elizabeth), because the thought of Eliza- 
 beth and the ruff were in our minds at the same time. 
 
 Can Association by Contiguity be Explained by 
 Association by Similarity ? Others explain association 
 by contiguity by association by similarity. The same 
 example can be used to illustrate their position. They 
 would say, granted that ruff -\-abcd recalls ruff -|- efg h 
 because there is a ruff in both cases, yet the ruff that 
 Elizabeth wore is not the one we see now. Let R stand 
 for the ruff we see now and R' for the ruff worn by Eliza- 
 beth, and we can symbolize the facts in this form : Rabcd 
 recalls R'efgh. Stated in this form, they say, it is evi- 
 dent that Rabcd recalls R'efg h because of the likeness 
 between R and R'. 
 
 I think we shall agree that the latter have only explained 
 why R recalls R'. To account for the fact that we think of 
 efgh also, I think we must say R' recalls efgh because R' 
 and efgh were thought of at the same time. In other words, 
 association by contiguity is an ultimate mental law, ulti- 
 mate because it can not be analyzed into anything simpler.
 
 FUNDAMENTAL LAW OF ASSOCIATION. 205 
 
 Fundamental Law of Association. We have, then, 
 as our fundamental law of association the following : One 
 thought, idea, or experience tends to recall similar 
 thoughts, ideas, or experiences, and all other thoughts, 
 ideas, or experiences that were in the mind at the same 
 time. Remembering the influence exerted upon associa- 
 tion by the apprehension of inner relations, we see that 
 the above law requires qualification : One thought, idea, or 
 experience tends to recall similar thoughts, ideas, or expe- 
 riences, and all other thoughts, ideas, or experiences that 
 were in the mind at the same time, the latter with a force 
 proportionate to the number and clearness of the inner 
 relations apprehended between them and the attention we 
 bestow upon them. 
 
 Explanation of the Association of Ideas. But, after 
 all, what does this so-called law amount to ? If we ex- 
 amine it closely, we shall see that all it does is to describe 
 the facts. When we are thinking of one thing, we are 
 likely the next moment to find ourselves thinking of some 
 similar thing, or of something which we have thought of 
 before when we were thinking of that thing. That is 
 what the law states, but as to why it is so, it is as silent 
 as the sphynx. Can we assign a cause for the association 
 of ideas ? Can we tell why it is that the thought of one 
 thing tends to recall the thought of some other thing ? 
 
 Physical Basis. There seems good reason for sup- 
 posing that the association of ideas is due to the law of 
 habit in the nervous system. The similarity between the 
 phenomena of habit and association by contiguity is evi- 
 dent at a glance. Now, if we suppose as we must
 
 2O6 ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 that there is a physical basis for these thoughts or ideas 
 associated by contiguity, we shall see that there is reason 
 for supposing that one thought recalling another thought 
 that has been in the mind before in connection with it, is 
 due to the fact that one brain change tends to excite another 
 brain change which has been active before in connection 
 with it. We have seen that the various parts of the cortex 
 are connected with each other by fibres called association 
 fibres. It is these fibres which are supposed to be the 
 conductors along which the nervous current passes from 
 one part of the cortex to another which has been in a state 
 of excitement at the same time. 
 
 Further, if we suppose that similar ideas have their physi- 
 cal basis in the same part of the brain as the evidence 
 requires us to do at least to a certain extent, since it has 
 already been proved, as we have seen, that sensations of 
 sight are localized in a particular part of the cortex 
 we shall be able to form a crude sort of notion of how it 
 happens that thinking of one thing tends to make us think 
 of a similar thing. The thought of the one thing is due 
 to the excitement of some of the same cortical cells whose 
 excitation caused the thought of the preceding thing, and 
 therefore the excitation of the cells corresponding to the 
 thought of one thing causes, by the law of habit, the 
 excitation of the cells corresponding to the thought of 
 the other thing. 
 
 Limitations of such Explanations. But if we accept 
 
 this crude explanation as entirely complete and satisfactory 
 
 and it is far from it there are some facts which neither 
 
 it nor any other physical explanation has ever made clear. 
 
 Granted, for example, that the excitation of similar parts
 
 QUESTIONS. 207 
 
 of the brain causes similar thoughts to arise in the mind, 
 how do we know that those thoughts are similar ? The 
 existence of similar thoughts is one thing ; the conscious- 
 ness of their similarity is a radically different thing. 
 
 But the thorough discussion of these questions is too 
 difficult for such elementary study as ours. If you wish 
 to see the best explanation that has ever been given of 
 the association of ideas, read Professor James's Psychology, 
 and if you wish to see a forcible statement of the limita- 
 tions of all such explanations, read Professor Ladd's Physio- 
 logical Psychology. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Illustrate what is meant by association of ideas from your own 
 experience. 
 
 2. Illustrate from your own experience the different kinds of 
 association. 
 
 3. What is the difference between logical association and associa- 
 tion by contiguity ? 
 
 4. Explain the different names for association by contiguity. 
 
 5. Explain the various reasons why things logically associated tend 
 to recall each other. 
 
 6. State the two laws of association, and explain the attempts to 
 derive one from the other. 
 
 7. State verbatim the formula in which the two may be stated. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1 . Explain ideas in the phrase, association of ideas. 
 
 2. A child seeing a snake licking out its tongue, said it was mak- 
 ing faces at him. What kind of association was that? 
 
 3. I read to-day the following sentence from Goethe : "Take care 
 of the beautiful, and the useful will take care of itself," and at once, 
 thought of Spencer's essay on "What Knowledge is of Most Worth." 
 Why? 
 
 4. What kind of associations do children first form ?
 
 LESSON XXII. 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 Knowledge Begins with Sensations. We have seen 
 already that all knowledge takes its rise in sensation. The 
 mental history of every human being begins with its first 
 sensation. Before the first sensation, the only difference 
 between a human being and any other growing thing a 
 tree, for instance so far as mind is concerned, consists 
 in the fact that the former possesses the potentiality of 
 mind. This potentiality first begins to become actuality 
 when the human being experiences its first sensations. 
 
 Sensations Exist before they are Known. But 
 
 although knowledge takes its rise in sensation, it by no 
 means follows that the first experience of sensations con- 
 stitutes the beginning of knowledge. If we consider what 
 knowledge is, we shall see that, in the nature of the case, 
 the mind must have sensations before it knows it has 
 them. I do not mean merely that a fact must exist in 
 order to be known. That, of course, is true of sensations, 
 but more than that is true. Sensations not only must 
 exist in order to be known, but they may exist and often 
 do for a considerable period before they are known ; 
 and I think, if we realize what knowledge is, we shall see 
 that in the nature of the case this must be so. 
 
 208
 
 WHAT IS KNOWLEDGE ? 209 
 
 What is Knowledge ? What is it to know a thing ? 
 It is to put it into a class, is it not ? A child sees a 
 menagerie, and fixes his eyes on an animal unknown to 
 him. In what does his ignorance of it consist ? In his 
 inability to class it. He looks at it steadily, and suddenly 
 shouts, " Oh, it is an elephant ! " What has happened ? 
 How is it that ignorance has given place to knowledge? 
 He has suddenly noticed the resemblance between this 
 unknown object and certain pictures he has seen in his 
 reading-book ; he has put it into a class, and when he has 
 classed it he knows it. 
 
 This putting things into classes constitutes the essence 
 of all knowing. Some kinds of knowledge we call science 
 orderly, systematic knowledge knowledge of laws and 
 causes and principles ; other kinds we call unscientific, 
 because in these cases our knowledge is unsystematic and 
 disconnected. But whether we know scientifically or un- 
 scientifically, in order to know a thing we must classify it, 
 and in the act of classification consists our knowledge of 
 it. Before Newton, no one understood the motions of the 
 moon. He helped us to understand them explained 
 them, as we say by helping us to classify them. But in 
 what does our understanding of them consist ? Merely in 
 that we have put them into a class along with many 
 familiar facts. As the child felt that he knew the animal 
 in the menagerie when he noticed its resemblance to the 
 pictures he had seen in his reading-book, so we feel that 
 we understand the motions of the heavenly bodies when 
 we have put them into the same class with familiar facts, 
 such as the falling of a leaf or the dropping of a stone. 
 As to the cause of these motions as to the nature of the 
 force upon which they depend we are as ignorant to-day
 
 210 PERCEPTION. 
 
 as were those old Chaldaeans who used to stand on the 
 plains of Chaldaea gazing up into the sky with that wonder- 
 ing curiosity which has been so well called the mother of 
 knowledge. We call it gravity, and think we know all 
 about it, because when the mind sees the resemblance 
 between a strange fact and familiar facts the sense of 
 mystery is gone. Suppose we should ask what is the 
 cause of death, would you think it a sufficient answer to 
 say that all things die ? That is a precise illustration of 
 our explanation of the motions of the heavenly bodies. 
 What makes the heavenly bodies move ? The law of 
 gravitation, or the force of gravity, is answered. But that 
 is only another way of saying that all bodies move. 
 
 If, then, all knowing is merely classifying if a thing 
 unknown is merely a thing unclassified the first sensa- 
 tions must be unknown. A boy can not put his first piece 
 of money in his purse with the rest of his money, because 
 he has no other money. So the first sensation can not be 
 classed with preceding sensations, because, since it is the 
 first, it has no predecessors. Knowledge, then, takes its 
 rise in sensations, not in the sense that the first experience 
 of sensations constitutes the beginning of knowledge, but 
 in the sense that sensations constitute the first material 
 upon which the mind 's powers of knowing are exerted. 
 
 Characteristics of the First Sensations. Observa- 
 tions of new-born children will not only confirm this 
 reasoning, but will lead us to suppose that for some little 
 period in the beginning of a child's life there is no knowl- 
 edge of sensations. Knowledge begins with attention. 
 Not till the child attends to his sensations can he be said 
 to know them in any proper sense of the word. But what
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF FIRST SENSATIONS. 2 I I 
 
 shall we say of these sensations before they are known ? 
 What characteristics do they have ? None whatever. Our 
 sensations are tliis rather than that sensations of color 
 rather than sensations of sound through being known. 
 Before they are known before they are individualized 
 through being attended to and classed we can call them 
 sensations of sound, for example, only in the sense that 
 they are occasioned by the stimulation of the auditory 
 nerve We speak of this sensation and that idea because 
 we have fixed our attention upon the fact so individualized, 
 and have chosen to consider it as a whole. But all the 
 experiences we have at any moment are parts of one 
 indivisible whole, and such distinctness as they have is the 
 result of a gradual process of differencing brought about 
 by attention and classification. Ward well says : " It is 
 impossible for us now to imagine the effects of years of 
 experience removed, or to picture the character of our 
 infantile presentations " sensations " before our inter- 
 ests had led us habitually to concentrate attention on some 
 and to ignore others, whose intensity thus diminished as 
 that of the former increased. In place of the many things 
 which we can now see and hear, not merely would there 
 then be a confused presentation of the whole field of 
 vision, and of a mass of indistinguished sounds, but even 
 the difference between sights and sounds themselves would 
 be without its present distinctness. Thus the farther we 
 go back, the nearer we approach to a total presentation" 
 
 experience " . . . in which differences are latent." 
 This, then, is the material first presented to the mind 
 
 an undifferenced, unindividualized, confused, indefinite 
 mass of sensational experience due to the excitation of the 
 various sensory nerves an experience not of this and that
 
 212 PERCEPTION. 
 
 and the other, because attention has not discriminated the 
 elements of experience into "thises" and "thats" and 
 "others"; this is the material first presented to the mind 
 through the senses. But what do the senses seem to tell 
 us now ? 
 
 What the Senses Tell us of Objects. Put an apple 
 on your table and sit far enough away from it to prevent 
 it from affecting any sense but the sense of sight. What 
 do you learn about it through the sense of sight ? Merely 
 its color. But what is color ? A quality of objects, we 
 should have said a little while ago. But have we not seen 
 that this quality of objects, this color of the apple, is 
 simply a sensation, a state of our minds ? A sensation, 
 we have seen, is that simple mental state that directly 
 follows the last change in the brain that results from the 
 stimulation of a sensory nerve. Is any nerve stimulated in 
 this case ? Yes ; the optic nerve. The waves of light 
 strike the retina of the eye and cause a change in it, and 
 this in the adjacent particles of the optic nerve, and these 
 in the particles next to them, and so on until the brain is 
 reached ; and then what happens then ? Why then, as 
 we have seen, there follows a sensation of color. 
 
 Close your eyes now, and request a friend to bring the 
 apple near enough to you to enable you to smell it. What 
 does the sense of smell tell you about it ? Simply its odor. 
 But what is odor ? Is it not evident that it is simply a 
 sensation ? It is unnecessary to repeat the reasonings of 
 the last paragraph. We have again a stimulation of a 
 sensory nerve, a change all along the nerve, a change in 
 the brain, and then a sensation. 
 
 Evidently all that the senses tell us of objects is the
 
 QUESTIONS. 213 
 
 sensations they produce in our minds. But this is not 
 what they seem to tell us. They seem to tell us of objects, 
 and of these (i) as having definite qualities, and (2) occu- 
 pying a definite position in space. The apple that the 
 sense of sight reveals to me is an object having certain 
 definite qualities round, red, mellow, etc. and in a 
 certain place on the window-sill some ten feet away. 
 
 Problem of Perception. In some way, then, those 
 undifferenced, unindividualized, indefinite sensations with 
 which our mental life began not only become definite, but 
 are, as it were, projected out of us, and regarded as quali- 
 ties of external objects. How do they get these three 
 characteristics ? ( i ) How does a sensation that was not 
 first known even as a sensation of color, for example, 
 become known as a definite sensation of color say a par- 
 ticular shade of red ? (2) How does it become localized 
 projected at a certain distance say ten feet away ? 
 (3) How does it become regarded as a quality of an 
 external object, such as an apple ? To answer these three 
 questions is to explain the problem of perception. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Make a careful summary of the conclusions reached in the two 
 lessons on sensation. 
 
 2. In what does knowledge consist? 
 
 3. What is the difference between scientific and unscientific knowl- 
 edge? 
 
 4. Show that the first sensations can not be known. 
 
 5. What is meant by the assertion that knowledge takes its rise in 
 sensation ? 
 
 6. What is the character of our first sensations ?
 
 214 PERCEPTION. 
 
 7. State and explain the quotation from Ward. 
 
 8. What do the senses tell us of objects ? 
 
 9. What do they seem to tell us ? 
 
 10. State the three questions which a theory of perception has to 
 answer. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. If the first sensation is not known, how can the knowledge of 
 sensations originate ? 
 
 2. Is the assertion, knowledge begins with station, equivalent to 
 afl our ideas were derived from sensations? If not, what is the 
 difference ? 
 
 3. What is the meaning of the terms, sensationalist, empiricist, 
 transcendentalist ?
 
 LESSON XXIII. 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 (Continued.) 
 
 WE saw in the last lesson that what the senses really 
 tell us of objects is how they affect us tlie sensations 
 produced by them in our minds but that they seem to 
 tell us of objects themselves as having certain qualities, 
 and occupying a certain place. 
 
 What the Mind Does when it Perceives. What does 
 the mind do to its sensations of color and smell and taste 
 in order to perceive colors, odors, and tastes as qualities of 
 objects ? It groups them together, does it not ? When 
 you look at an apple, you group its color, taste, and smell 
 together as qualities of one object. Sully puts it as fol- 
 lows : " Sense-impressions" he means sensations "are 
 the alphabet by which we spell out the objects presented 
 to us. In order to grasp or apprehend these objects, these 
 letters must be put together after the manner of words. 
 Thus the apprehension of an apple by the eye involves 
 the putting together of various sensations of sight, touch, 
 and taste. This is the mind's own work, and is known as 
 perception." He compares sensations to the letters of 
 the alphabet ; and precisely as in reading we put the 
 letters b, r, i, c, k together and read " brick," so, in per- 
 
 215
 
 2l6 PERCEPTION. 
 
 ceiving, we put together certain sensations and thus gain a 
 knowledge of objects. 
 
 But this grouping of sensations together is not all we 
 do when we perceive. As long as your sensations seem 
 to be sensations, you do not perceive. You perceive only 
 when they seem to be what we have seen they are hot 
 qualities actually forming a part of the objects in the world 
 about us, or states of our own bodies. 
 
 To perceive, then, is to group sensations together and 
 regard them as qualities of external objects. But is that 
 entirely accurate? When we perceive an apple by the 
 sense of sight, we group the sensation of color with recol- 
 lections of past sensations taste, smell, feeling of mellow- 
 ness, etc. do we not? Strictly speaking, then, what we 
 do when we perceive is to make a group consisting of one 
 or more sensations, and ideas of sensations, and regard the 
 group as qualities of an external object. 
 
 The state of mind that results from perception is called 
 a percept. We must be careful not to confuse this with 
 image. While you are looking at an apple, your state of 
 mind is a percept ; when you turn your head away and 
 think about it, the picture that you form of it is an image. 
 
 In order to reach a percept, the mind must take three 
 steps: (i) it must be conscious of a definite sensation; 
 (2) it must group this sensation with images of sensations 
 already experienced ; and (3) it must think of these sen- 
 sations as qualities of objects having a more or less definite 
 position in space. 
 
 To explain the problem of perception, then, is to explain 
 how the mind comes to take these three steps. 
 
 I have no intention of attempting to explain perception. 
 It is universally conceded to be one of the most difficult
 
 THE MIND AND DEFINITE SENSATIONS. 2 1/ 
 
 subjects in Psychology. My purpose will be accomplished 
 if we can get a definite idea of the problem that a theory 
 of perception undertakes to solve, and some general idea 
 of what seems to be the true solution. 
 
 Perhaps it will be more convenient to consider the prob- 
 lem of perception in the form in which it was stated in the 
 last lesson, although the two forms are in fact identical, as 
 a little consideration will enable us to see. 
 
 How the Mind Becomes Conscious of Definite Sensa- 
 tions. (i) How is it that the mind becomes conscious 
 of definite sensations that unindividualized sensations 
 come to be individualized, and known as such and such 
 sensations ? That question our study of attention enables 
 us to answer. If a child's experience consisted entirely of 
 sensations of sound, it is easy to see that the loudest 
 those having the character of greatest intensity would 
 be sure to be attended to in the course of time. They 
 would stand out in the foreground of his consciousness 
 would be individualized and thus lose the indefiniteness 
 that characterizes a child's experiences in the beginnings 
 of its mental life. Evidently, also, the pleasurable or 
 painful character of its experiences would have the same 
 effect, since it is likewise a cause of attention. 
 
 How Sensations Become Localized. (2) How is it 
 
 that these sensations become localized projected into 
 our bodies and into the external world ? Very young 
 children evidently do not localize their sensations. When 
 painful operations are performed upon them, their hands 
 do not need to be held, since they do not know where the 
 pain is. How do they finally come to get this knowledge ?
 
 2l8 PERCEPTION. 
 
 The Local Sign. Whether your little finger is pinched, 
 or touched, or burned, or bruised, or cut, you locate the 
 sensation in it you know that it is your little finger that is 
 affected. How is it that you are able to do this ? How 
 is it that when such different sensations as those of a mere 
 touch, a burn, a bruise, a cut, a pinch, report themselves 
 to consciousness, you are able to refer them all to the same 
 place ? Precisely as you can tell what country an Irish- 
 man comes from as soon as you hear him talk. There are 
 tall Irishmen and short Irishmen, stout Irishmen and lean 
 Irishmen, Irishmen that are handsome and Irishmen that 
 are homely ; but, no matter how widely they differ in 
 appearance, as soon as you hear one talk you know that 
 he hails from the land of Erin. And precisely as the 
 brogue of an Irishman enables you, as soon as you hear 
 him speak, to tell his nationality, so, since we are able to 
 locate in the same place the various sensations that arise 
 in connection with the little finger, those sensations must 
 have some characteristic in common. A mere touch, a 
 burn, a bruise, a cut, a pinch, differing as widely as they 
 do, could not be referred to the same place if they did not 
 speak a language that betrayed their origin. The charac- 
 teristic of our sensations the brogue which betrays their 
 origin by means of which we are able to locate them, 
 first in our bodies, and some of them afterwards in the 
 external world, is called the local sign. 
 
 How Local Signs are Apprehended as Signs of Place. 
 But perhaps the first time you noticed the brogue of an 
 Irishman you did not know what country he came from. 
 If you had noticed it in a dozen or fifty people, without 
 knowing they were from Ireland, you would not have
 
 LOCAL SIGNS AS SIGNS OF PLACE. 2IQ 
 
 known that it was a mark of Irish nationality. Not until 
 you knew that there was such a country as Ireland, and 
 that the men whose brogue you noticed were natives of it, 
 could the brogue of an Irishman mean to you what it 
 means now. Granted, then, that the sensations we receive 
 from the various parts of our bodies have each their own 
 local signs, these local signs are still characteristics of sen- 
 sations ; how can the mind regard characteristics of sensa- 
 tions as signs of what is not sensation ? Evidently it is 
 possible only as the mind has in some way an idea of the 
 thing signified. As a brogue could not mean Irish nation- 
 ality if we did not know there is such a country as Ireland, 
 so local signs could not be signs of locality if we had no 
 idea of space. But the very thing we are trying to explain 
 is how unlocalized, unspatialized sensations become local- 
 ized. Are we to say that they have local signs, but that, 
 in order that these signs may have any meaning, we must 
 have the idea of space already ? Certainly not ; for by 
 supposition all that we know is unlocalized sensations. 
 But if we had no idea of space before the apprehension of 
 these local signs, and if we must have it in order to use 
 them, as we unquestionably do in localizing our sensations, 
 the local signs must have been originally apprehended as 
 signs of place. You can not explain why a certain brain 
 change is followed by sensation ; all you can say about it 
 is that it is so. Nor can you explain why some of these 
 sensations are sensations of color ; when we say that it is 
 so, we have reached the end of our string. The conclusion 
 to which our reasoning leads us is that just as certain 
 brain changes are followed by those mental facts which 
 we call sensations, so the apprehension of certain charac- 
 teristics of our sensations is followed by the apprehension
 
 22O PERCEPTION. 
 
 of space. We are able to locate our sensations ; we could 
 not do it in the beginning of our mental life ; we could 
 not locate widely different sensations in the same place if 
 they did not have some common characteristic some 
 local sign ; this local sign could not be to the mind a sign 
 of place unless the idea of place existed before, or began 
 to exist at the same time with the apprehension of the 
 local sign; the idea of place did not exist before; there- 
 fore it began to exist at the same time with the apprehen- 
 sion of the local sign. Why it did we can not tell ; but 
 everything that we believe rests, in the last analysis, on 
 the inexplicable. 
 
 What Local Signs Consist of. Assuming the exist- 
 ence of local signs, and a native power to apprehend them 
 as signs of place, we can see how the mind would grad- 
 ually form an idea of the place occupied by the body. 
 Certain sensations from the various parts of it, each having 
 its own local sign, would give an account of the different 
 localities where the nerve originated that occasioned them. 
 With the idea of the place occupied by his body, the child 
 would soon form an idea of the place occupied by bodies 
 around him. By grasping first his wrist and then a stick, 
 the place-occupying quality of his wrist would naturally be 
 transferred to the stick. 
 
 As to what the local signs consist of, there is con- 
 siderable diversity of opinion. Indeed, it is a question of 
 so much difficulty that the discussion of it is out of place 
 in an elementary text. I will merely add that only the sen- 
 sations of sight and touch and the muscular sense seem to 
 have local signs, seem to possess characteristics that give 
 information as to place.
 
 GROUPING OF OUR SENSATIONS. 221 
 
 Why do we Group our Sensations together? (3) How 
 
 do we come to group our sensations together and regard 
 them as qualities of external objects ? 
 
 Briefly, becatise they occur together, or in an invariable 
 order. Every moment of our waking lives we are ex- 
 periencing sounds and touches and tastes and smells and 
 colors. Those which we are in the habit of experiencing 
 together, or in connection with each other, we refer, 
 through the influence of the laws of association, to the 
 same thing. A physician named Cheselden performed an 
 operation upon a man who was born blind, which restored 
 the man's sight. When he first began to see, everything 
 seemed to touch his eyes. Why ? Because we can not 
 see distance because what we call seeing distance is 
 interpreting the signs of distance and he had not then 
 learned the signs of distance. He knew cats and dogs 
 perfectly by the sense of touch, but he could not dis- 
 tinguish them by sight. Why ? Because he had not con- 
 nected, by the law of association, the way a cat feels with 
 the way a cat looks. Looking at a cat one day shortly 
 after his sight was restored, and being in doubt as to what 
 it was, he caught hold of it and said, "Ah, pussie, I shall 
 know you next time." Why ? Because he associated the 
 impression she made upon his mind through sight with 
 the impression made through touch. A child sees a robin 
 on a sunflower, 1 and hears it sing. He does not connect 
 the odor and color of the sunflower with the color and 
 song of the robin, because they do not habitually occur 
 together. If every time the child saw a sunflower a robin 
 was on it, and if he never saw a robin except on a sun- 
 
 1 This illustration was suggested by one of Ward's in the Encyclopedia 
 Britannica.
 
 222 PERCEPTION. 
 
 flower, he would connect them together as parts of one 
 whole. The odor, feel, taste, color, and solidity of an apple 
 are all grouped together because they invariably occur 
 together. When we have one of these experiences, the law 
 of association by contiguity makes us think of the rest. 
 
 Summary. Summing up, then, (i) Attention to in- 
 definite sensations makes them definite enables us to 
 take the first step towards the formation of a percept. 
 
 (2) As these sensations become definite, the mind grad- 
 ually becomes conscious of local signs which some of them 
 possess, and by a native, original power of interpretation 
 refers the sensations possessing them to a certain place. 
 
 (3) Through the laws of association the sensations which 
 occur together are referred to the same place and regarded 
 as qualities of the same thing. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . Summarize the conclusions reached in the preceding lesson. 
 
 2. State and explain Sully's comparison. 
 
 3. What does the mind do to its sensations when it perceives ? 
 
 4. What is the difference between a percept and an image ? 
 
 5. Explain how the mind becomes conscious of definite sensa- 
 tions. 
 
 6. Explain how it comes to localize them. 
 
 7. What is a local sign, and how do you know our sensations have 
 such signs? 
 
 8. How is it that the mind is able to interpret the local signs of 
 sensation as signs of place ? 
 
 9. How do we come to group our sensations together and regard 
 them as qualities of external objects ? 
 
 10. Explain the case of the boy whose sight was restored by an 
 operation performed by Cheselden.
 
 QUESTIONS. 223 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Show the identity of the two forms in which the problem of 
 perception has been stated. 
 
 2. When you are in a car that is not moving and a train passes 
 by, your own car seems to be in motion. Why ? 
 
 3. The air of Italy is very clear, that of England very thick. 
 What sort of mistakes would an Englishman make in judging of dis- 
 tance in Italy, and what sort would an Italian make in England, and 
 why? 
 
 4. What evidences do young children show of mistakes in judg- 
 ing of distances ? 
 
 5. A child of three wanted her mother to go up stairs with her in 
 order that she might get the stars. Account for her mistake.
 
 LESSON XXIV. 
 
 PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION. 
 
 We Create our own Worlds. Professor Davidson says 
 that to a very large extent every human being creates 
 his own world. .Careful reflection upon the conclusions 
 reached in the two preceding lessons will convince us that 
 this is true. We are all familiar with the ordinary assump- 
 tion that the world exists outside of us, already made, and 
 that the senses constitute a sort of transparent medium 
 through which it impresses itself upon the mind. But we 
 have learned that the material with which the senses origi- 
 nally furnish the mind is not a knowledge of the world, is 
 not even a knowledge of definite sensations, but an inde- 
 scribably confused and mixed-up mass of sentient expe- 
 rience, which Professor James has aptly described as 
 one " blooming confusion." 
 
 The Material. Now, the gradual transformation of 
 this blooming confusion into the world in which each of 
 us lives is the mind's own work. This blooming confusion 
 constitutes the bricks out of which the mind erects that 
 imposing and stately structure which the senses now seem 
 to directly present to us as the world. 
 
 Probably there is no sentence in this book which it will 
 be more difficult for most of us cordially to assent to than 
 
 224
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 225 
 
 this. But, as it seems to me of the first importance that 
 we should vividly realize it, I beg to call attention to some 
 illustrations of its truth in addition to the arguments of the 
 preceding lessons. 
 
 Illustrations. We all know that there is a difference 
 between the world of the man blind from birth, and that 
 of the man who can see ; between that of the man deaf 
 from birth, and that of the man who can hear. The world 
 of the man blind from birth contains no colors ; that of 
 the deaf man, no sounds. 
 
 As the blind man is shut out from a whole world that 
 is open to us, so a man whose sense of sight is highly cul- 
 tivated lives in a world into which the ordinary man can 
 not enter. He sees a thousand delicate colors, a thousand 
 gradations of light and shade, that are as entirely beyond 
 the range of the ordinary man's vision as though they 
 came through a new sense. Read Ruskin's essay on the 
 sky and then say if the sky he saw and the sky which we 
 see are the same. "Clear" or "cloudy" satisfies us as 
 a description of the sky. That would be as inadequate a 
 description of the sky as it would be of a typical American 
 to say that he is a human being ! 
 
 The same kind of difference exists between the world 
 of a man any of whose senses is well trained, and that of a 
 man whose corresponding sense is untrained. Read Eve's 
 description of Eden in Milton's Paradise Lost : 
 
 " Fragrant the fertile Earth 
 
 After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 
 Of grateful Evening mild ; then silent Night, 
 With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon 
 And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train ; 
 But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends
 
 226 PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION. 
 
 With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising Sun 
 On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower, 
 Glistering with dew ; nor fragrance after showers ; 
 Nor grateful Evening mild ; nor silent Night, 
 With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, 
 Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet " 
 
 Read this and you will note how full Milton's world was 
 of odors "fragrant the fertile Earth after soft showers" 
 and sounds " the silent Night," " charm of earliest 
 birds" and delicate shades of color "and sweet the 
 coming on of grateful Evening mild." For a man who has 
 never noticed the fragrance of fertile fields after soft 
 showers, who has never noted the gradual dying of the 
 day as grateful evening comes on, who has never been 
 charmed by songs of earliest birds, these things are as 
 though they did not exist ; they form no part of the world 
 in which he consciously lives ; they are without effect 
 upon his mental life. 
 
 We Create our Moral Worlds. We create in the 
 same sense our moral world. We remember some of 
 the charges that were brought against Washington in the 
 fierce party struggles of his administration that he 
 would not accept any office from 1783 to 1789 because 
 there was none exalted enough to satisfy his ambition; 
 that his professed wish, not to accept the presidency a 
 second term, was a mere pretense made because he was 
 afraid he could not be elected ; that the fear that he could 
 not be elected caused him to declare that he would not 
 accept the presidency for a third term. It is altogether 
 possible that many men believed these charges. Men who 
 act from motives of self-interest alone can not realize the 
 possibility of anything else.
 
 PROBLEM OF EDUCATION. 227 
 
 Problem of Education. The problem of education, 
 then, is to help the pupil create the right kind of world, 
 such a world as will form the basis for wise thought and 
 intelligent action, at the same time that it contributes to 
 the noblest pleasures of life. The right kind of so-called 
 cultivation of the observing powers consists in helping the 
 pupil to note these things which should enter into his 
 world, with the hope that by this means he will acquire 
 the power to continue the proper creation of his world 
 without help from teachers. 
 
 Importance of the Training of Observation. From 
 this point of view, the overmastering importance of the 
 training of observation becomes self-evident. Men pay 
 great attention to the garments with which they clothe 
 their bodies, to the houses with which they shelter them- 
 selves. How trifling are these things in value in com- 
 parison with the home which the mind must make for 
 itself. For the world is the mind's home. Are we in 
 such constant presence of law, order, and rationality as to 
 make anything but rational action seem repulsive ? Or is 
 our world a world of vague and chaotic impressions, where 
 things seem to happen by chance ? Are we conscious of 
 the beauties of sunrise and sunset, of spring and autumn, 
 of hill and valley, of meadow and woodland, or are the 
 great walls of nature's picture galleries blank, dreary 
 spaces staring upon equally blank and dreary minds ? Is 
 the life of struggle and toil of the men and women about 
 us lighted up for our thinking by some elements of un- 
 selfishness, by some bits of heroism, or does it differ from 
 a pack of hounds, struggling to get some pieces of meat 
 which have been thrown among them, only by some super-
 
 228 PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION. 
 
 ficial varnishes called politeness, regard for the opinion of 
 others which have least influence precisely where they 
 are needed most ? The answer to all these questions de- 
 pends on the nature of the world which we have made for 
 ourselves. 
 
 How Observation is Cultivated. When we so con- 
 ceive the matter, and when we remember the occupations 
 with which the child is afflicted in the average primary 
 school dreary, mechanical memorizing of a lot of dreary, 
 unmeaning symbols we can hardly help congratulating 
 ourselves that the laws of most States forbid children to be 
 sent to school before the age of six before they have 
 had some of that direct contact with nature which is the 
 most potent stimulus to the proper conception of the 
 world. Dr. Dewey tells us of a swimming-school in 
 Chicago where all the motions are taught on dry land. 
 And when a boy who had mastered the theory of swim- 
 ming first tried to put it into practice, he was able to 
 report the results of his experiment in a single word : 
 "sunk." As well try to teach swimming on dry land, 
 bicycling in a carriage, skating in summer as try to help a 
 pupil form right conceptions of the world except through 
 constant contact with it. Dr. Harris calls Colonel Parker 
 the ideal primary teacher, and in Colonel Parker's school 
 the primary pupils spent the greater part of their time 
 out-of-doors. 
 
 Opinion of School Authorities. But this is a waste 
 of time, the school authorities are likely to say. They 
 think it better for us to employ our pupils in memorizing 
 the names of the capitals of the various countries of the
 
 OUR PRESENT RESOURCES. 22Q 
 
 world, the lengths of the rivers, the heights of the moun- 
 tains, and so on. It is our fault that they do. If they 
 make a fetich of books, it is because we teachers have 
 done so. Let us be convinced ourselves that books are 
 only means to ends, and then we can convince the public. 
 The difficulty is that we are unable to shake ourselves 
 free from the notion that education consists in the knowl- 
 edge of books. Instead of regarding books as foot-notes 
 to the great texts of nature and mind, we cause our pupils 
 to turn away from the study of mind and nature that they 
 may give all their time to the study of books. Let us shake 
 ourselves free from this burdensome tradition, and then 
 we may hope that the general public will become free also. 
 
 Our Present Resources. Indeed, in so far as we are 
 really convinced of the importance of this first-hand study 
 of nature, we are not without resources even now. If we 
 can not take our pupils to nature, we can induce them to 
 go and tell us what they have seen. The knowledge that 
 they will have to give an account of what they have seen 
 will be a motive for observing more carefully than they 
 otherwise would have done. And indeed, unless you are 
 yourself a loving observer of nature, your company would 
 be of little service to them. 
 
 Qualifications of a Good Primary Teacher. In the 
 
 School of the Far-off Future, when men will universally 
 realize the importance of the proper development of the 
 various faculties of the mind as keenly as trained physiol- 
 ogists to-day realize the importance of the health of the 
 various organs of the body, in that school, I believe no 
 teacher will be allowed to enter at least in the primary
 
 230 PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION. 
 
 grades until he has stood certain tests that would seem 
 very curious to us. Is the face of nature indifferent to 
 him ? Are her smiles in summer and her frowns in winter 
 alike lost on him ? Can he look upon the brooks that 
 "fret" along their channels and the sheep and the cows 
 grazing in the meadows and the wild roses growing along 
 the hedge-rows and hear the songs of birds with no feel- 
 ings of gladness ? If so, I believe he will be regarded as 
 lacking an essential element of a teacher of boys and girls. 
 The ideal teacher of the ideal school will look on the face 
 of nature with something of the same fondness with which 
 the mother looks on the face of her child. As every act 
 of her child is an object of interest to the mother, so every 
 detail of nature will be of interest to this teacher, and he 
 will watch the changes that pass over the face of nature 
 as winter gives way to spring, and spring to summer, and 
 summer gradually dies away into autumn, with something 
 of the same sad and yet fond interest which the mother 
 bestows upon her daughter as she travels on the road to 
 womanhood. 
 
 What Children should be Taught to Observe. But 
 
 we are not living in the future, and we have to take our- 
 selves as we do our pupils as we are, and make the best 
 of us. And it seems to me that if we do not care for 
 nature we may realize the importance of helping our pupils 
 care for it ; and to do this, the only thing we can do is to 
 give them motives for attending to it more closely than 
 they otherwise would have done. You might have them 
 make lists of the various trees and flowers and plants and 
 birds of the neighborhood, and note the dates when the 
 trees begin to put forth their leaves and the flowers to
 
 DRAWING. 231 
 
 bloom and the birds to build their nests. If the birds are 
 of a migratory sort, you should have your pupils observe 
 when they come and when they go, and, in any case, what 
 they feed on, and how they build their nests. You should 
 have a school museum composed entirely of interesting 
 objects that they have collected. In such ways you may 
 induce them to become familiar with every bird and tree 
 and flower and plant in the neighborhood, and during the 
 process three-fourths of them will have acquired such an 
 interest in nature as will make them good observers for life. 
 
 Drawing. You can turn their fondness for drawing 
 into account in the same direction. Have them draw not 
 pictures, but real objects from memory, and the result will 
 be that the next time the object is seen it will be observed 
 much more closely, and the image of it will be fixed in the 
 mind much more definitely. 
 
 Object Lessons. You should give object lessons. But 
 if these lessons are to have any value, they must be care- 
 fully prepared and carefully given. Some teachers seem 
 to imagine that there is a virtue in an object lesson as 
 such ; but, in the nature of the case, this is not so. If an 
 object lesson is of any use in cultivating the observing 
 powers of your pupils, it is because it induces them to 
 observe more closely than they otherwise would have done ; 
 if it does not do that, it will leave their observing powers 
 just where it found them. 
 
 An object lesson may be made to serve two important 
 purposes besides furnishing motives to your pupils to ob- 
 serve : You may make it a means of imparting knowledge, 
 and of enlarging the range of their vocabulary.
 
 232 PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION. 
 
 Preparation of Object Lessons. When you are pre- 
 paring an object lesson, you should make up your mind in 
 precisely what ways you will reach these various ends. 
 You will, of course, conduct it for the most part by asking 
 questions. If you are dealing with little children, you will 
 begin by asking them questions which they can answer 
 with ease,/0r the sake of interesting them in the lesson. 
 Children like to display their powers, and they like lessons 
 which give them opportunities to do that. But you will 
 be careful to note that to interest them in the lesson is by 
 no means the same thing as interesting them in tJie object. 
 You interest them in the object when you ask them 
 questions about it that they can not answer, but to which 
 they can find the answer by more careful observation. 
 Accordingly, a part of your preparation of an object lesson 
 should consist of such a careful study of the object as will 
 enable you to observe certain qualities which you think 
 have escaped their attention, in order that you may be able 
 to induce them to study it more carefully than they have 
 ever done before, and give them the pleasure of finding 
 out something for themselves. 
 
 You should carefully decide also precisely to what extent 
 you wish to enlarge their vocabulary. If, for instance, you 
 are giving a lesson on glass, you can arrange your ques- 
 tions so as to get them to tell you that they can see through 
 it. Then you can tell them that things which can be seen 
 through aie transparent, and ask them to name as many 
 transparent things as they can think of. 
 
 Compayre quotes a sensible paragraph from M. Buisson 
 on this subject : " It is not desirable to have the object 
 lesson begin and end at a fixed hour. Let it be given on 
 the occasion of a reading or writing lesson, or in connec-
 
 QUESTIONS. 233 
 
 tion with the dictation exercise, with the lesson in history, 
 geography, or grammar. If it occupies two minutes instead 
 of twenty, it will be only the better for that. Often it will 
 consist, not in a series of consecutive questions, but in one 
 spirited, precise, and pointed question, which will provoke 
 a reply of the same sort." 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What is the meaning of Professor Davidson's statement? 
 
 2. What does Professor James mean by " blooming confusion " ? 
 
 3. What is meant by the cultivation of the observing powers, and 
 why is it so important? 
 
 4. What can we do in the way of training the senses of our pupils ? 
 
 5. What do you regard as the best means of helping your pupils 
 form habits of careful observation ? 
 
 6. How should an object lesson be prepared, and for what pur- 
 poses should object lessons be given ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. In what classes of objects are children most interested ? 
 
 2. Have you noticed instances in which the home surroundings 
 of children exert an influence upon the objects they are interested in ? 
 
 3. At what age are children most interested in objects ? 
 
 4. Show the relation between the conclusions reached in this 
 lesson and in the lessons on attention.
 
 LESSON XXV. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 Elements of Memory. We can conceive of a mind 
 with no capacity except the power to experience sensations 
 a mind limited to the present a mind whose expe- 
 riences leave no trace upon it. Such a mind would be 
 destitute of the power of retention. We can conceive of 
 a mind like our own in that every sensation, every expe- 
 rience leaves " the mind different, as every physical change 
 leaves the body different," but unlike ours in that an 
 experience once gone never returns. As every minute in 
 that stately and solemn procession that we call the March 
 of the Years goes by never to return, so we can conceive 
 that the shadow of those experiences that we are conscious 
 of from moment to moment, in spite of the fact that each 
 of them left the mind different, might never fall across our 
 conscious life. Such a mind would be without the power 
 of reproduction. We can conceive of a mind, also, with 
 laws of association like our own a mind constantly con- 
 scious of images of some of its past experiences, but with- 
 out the faintest notion that they were images a mind 
 with the power to make pictures or copies of past events, 
 but without the power to refer them to their original. 
 Such a mind would be destitute of the power of re-cogni- 
 tion re-knowing. Or we can conceive of a mind with 
 
 234
 
 RETENTION. 
 
 235 
 
 the power to reproduce and re-know its past experiences, 
 but without the power to locate them - a mind to which 
 "yesterday," "last week," "last month," "last year," 
 would mean the same thing the past, a mind all of 
 whose recollections were like those we have sometimes 
 been conscious of when we have seen a face that we were 
 sure we had seen before, but with no idea of where or 
 when. Such a mind would be without the power of 
 localization^ 
 
 These four powers, then retention, reproduction, 
 recognition, and localization constitute the power that 
 we call memory.. You would not, indeed, say that you 
 do not remember a thing when you are not thinking about 
 it. But you would say that a mind that did not possess 
 all four of these powers can not remember as we can, and 
 that one without the last two can not remember at all. 
 A complete explanation of memory, then, would require 
 a complete explanation of these four powers. 
 
 Retention. In thinking about retention, we must be 
 on our guard against being led into mistakes by the literal 
 meaning of the word. The act of retaining seems to imply 
 a place where things are retained, and so we sometimes 
 permit ourselves to think of memory as a great storehouse, 
 where all the lumber of our past experience is accumulated. 
 This was the opinion of Herbart. Says the Herbartian, 
 Lindner: "That concepts are not destroyed by passing 
 out of consciousness is proved by the fact of reproduction." 
 And Leibniz : " No idea leaves the mind, but each idea 
 becomes invisible for a time or permanently. To remem- 
 ber is to have new consciousness of what has not ceased 
 
 1 See Baldwin's Psychology, p. 151*
 
 236 MEMORY. 
 
 to exist in the soul." But when we begin to think seri- 
 ously, it is hard to believe that the "storehouse" of 
 memory is more than a metaphor. I had the toothache 
 yesterday ; to-day I recall the fact. I have an image of it. 
 But the image or idea of the toothache is not the original 
 fact. The toothache was intensely painful ; the image of 
 it is not at all so. If you ask where the image was from 
 the time it dropped out of consciousness until the time we 
 thought of it to-day, the proper answer is, as Baldwin 
 says, Nowhere. When I had the toothache, I was con- 
 scious of a sensation. When I ceased to have it, the 
 sensation ceased. When the idea of it is recalled to my 
 mind, I remember it. Between the disappearance of the 
 sensation and the rise of the image my mind was inactive 
 with reference to it ; there was neither sensation nor image 
 of it in existence. So far as consciousness is concerned, 
 then, retention does not denote an act, but states a fact 
 the fact that experiences of the past leave the mind differ- 
 ent, since it often happens that we can recall them. 
 
 Retention a Physical Fact. The probability is that 
 retention is, in part at least, a purely physical fact. The 
 facts already cited in an earlier chapter of impairment 
 of memory in consequence of an injury to the brain 
 indicate this. Ribot states the argument very forcibly : 
 "If, with closed eyes, we keep for a length of time an 
 image of very lively colors before the imagination, and 
 then opening the eyes suddenly, we fix them upon a white 
 surface, we see thereon for an instant the image contem- 
 plated in imagination, but in the complementary color. 
 This fact, as is observed by Wundt, from whom we borrow 
 it, proves that the nerve action is the same in the two
 
 LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 237 
 
 cases in the sense perception and in the memory." 
 Professor Ladd also puts the case clearly : " That the 
 mental phenomena which lead us to speak of the retentive 
 power of memory have a physical basis, there can be no 
 doubt. . . . Every sensory impulse must produce changes 
 both in the end organs and the central organs; and 
 although these changes vanish, so far as their effect in the 
 corresponding phenomena of conscious mind is concerned, 
 they nevertheless can not fail to leave the organs in dif- 
 ferent condition from that in which they were found." 1 
 Fouillee makes a concise and graphic statement of some 
 of the facts that support this opinion : " It is evident that 
 there is in memory something automatic, capable of func- 
 tioning alone ; even the diseases and illusions to which it is 
 subject prove that there is something delicate and fragile 
 in this marvel of natural mechanism. If a scholar, after 
 having received a violent blow on the head, forgets all his 
 knowledge of Greek without forgetting anything else, and 
 if afterwards, as the result of a second blow, he suddenly 
 regains his lost Greek, it is difficult to see in memory an 
 act entirely spiritual." 
 
 Reproduction and Laws of Association. The laws 
 in accordance with which ideas and images of our past 
 experiences arise in our minds have already been con- 
 sidered. They are, as we know, the laws of association. 
 We say that any thought, idea, or experience tends to 
 recall similar thoughts, ideas, or experiences, and all other 
 thoughts or experiences that were in the mind at the same 
 time. 
 
 A consideration of this law will enable us to see how it 
 
 1 Ladd's Physiological Psychology, p. 548.
 
 238 MEMORY. 
 
 happens that we are sometimes conscious of re-knowing 
 things without being able to recall the place where, or the 
 time when, the thing was originally known, or any of the 
 circumstances connected with it. It is because the thing 
 recalls the past experience simply by the law of association 
 by similarity. Usually, as we know, along with the similar 
 idea are recalled other ideas or thoughts that were in the 
 mind at the same time ; and it is these other thoughts or 
 ideas that enable us to localize our recollections. You saw 
 a stranger yesterday in the post-office. To-day you see 
 him again, and as soon as you see him you are conscious 
 of that feeling of recognition you know that you have 
 seen him before. How do you know it ? Because of the 
 likeness between your percept of him and the image that 
 arises in the mind. But suppose the image comes entirely 
 unattended suppose it comes without any of the other 
 ideas that were in the mind at the same time then you 
 will have the feeling that you are re-knowing the person, 
 but where or when you originally knew him you will be 
 utterly unable to tell. You will not know where, for by 
 supposition the image of the post-office does not come into 
 your mind with the image of the person you saw there. 
 You will not know when, for none of the images or 
 thoughts that fix the time come with the image no 
 thought of yesterday, no thought of what you were or had 
 been doing. As we can not locate the place of a thing 
 except in relation to other places London in relation to 
 England, England to Europe, Europe to the earth, the 
 earth to the solar system, the solar system to the universe, 
 the universe to what ? so we can not locate the time of 
 an event except with reference to the time of other events, 
 succeeding, preceding, or contemporaneous. (What does
 
 PRESENT IMAGES AS PAST EXPERIENCES. 239 
 
 1891 mean?) When, therefore, an image of a past ex- 
 perience arises in our minds, unattended by any of its 
 former companions, we can only feel that we re-know it, 
 without being able to tell where or when. 
 
 How we Know that Present Images are Copies of 
 Past Experiences. This explanation of the fact would 
 seem to make the explanation of our ordinary experiences 
 in memory very simple. Usually when we see a thing a 
 second time that we remember to have seen before, we 
 remember when and where we saw it. The reason is, as 
 we now see, that the image of the past fact is attended by 
 some of the ideas that were in the mind at the same time, 
 so that its place and time are fixed. But how do we know 
 that images of which we are conscious in the present are 
 copies of experiences that we had an hour ago, or rather 
 what makes us believe it? You sit down and begin to 
 indulge in the pleasure of retrospection. You think of 
 what happened an hour ago, yesterday, last year, ten years 
 ago when you were a child, first finding yourself in this 
 strange world. But your base of operations is always the 
 present. How is it that ideas now in the mind are retro- 
 jected, some of them an hour back, others a day, others a 
 year, others a decade, others for a period not to be men- 
 tioned in such a public place ? Precisely as in perception, 
 we refer some of the sensations of color to objects ten feet 
 away, others to objects a mile ten miles away, while 
 all of them are in our own minds, so in memory we retro- 
 ject ideas, all of which are experiences of the present, 
 some of them an hour, others a day, others a week, others 
 a score of years into our past lives. As Mr. Ward puts it, 
 "We may, if we represent succession as a line, represent
 
 240 MEMORY. 
 
 simultaneity as a second line at right angles to the first." 
 As our experiences actually occur to us, they are in suc- 
 cession, the memory images of them at any one time are 
 in the mind simultaneously. How are we able to retroject 
 present memory images into that place in the past occu- 
 pied by the experiences of which they are the copies ? 
 
 Temporal Signs. It is the case of the Irishman's 
 brogue over again. As we know the nationality of an 
 Irishman by the way he speaks ; as we refer our sensa- 
 tions to a certain place by their local signs ; so we locate 
 images of past experiences at a certain point in our past 
 lives by their temporal signs. As the local signs are certain 
 characteristics that all sensations, however different, which 
 arise from the stimulation of the same part of the body 
 have in common, so the temporal signs are certain common 
 characteristics possessed by all ideas that we refer to some 
 general point of time, however different those ideas may 
 be. In other words, all the events of Christmas Day, 
 1888, that I am able to recall and localize at that point in 
 the past are represented in my mind by ideas or images 
 that have certain common characteristics. These common 
 characteristics this brogue that enables me to refer my 
 recollections to their proper time in the past are called 
 temporal signs. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Define retention, reproduction, recognition, and localization, 
 and show that they are essential to a complete act of memory. 
 
 2. Summarize the results reached in the chapter on the associa- 
 tion of ideas.
 
 QUESTIONS. 241 
 
 3. How is it that we sometimes know that we have seen a thing 
 without being able to tell where or when ? 
 
 4. What was the Illustration of the Irishman's brogue used to 
 show in one of the chapters on perception ? 
 
 5. What is the difference between local and temporal signs? 
 
 6. How is it that the mind is able to regard its local signs as 
 signs of place ? 
 
 7. What is the difference between a percept and an image ? 
 
 8. Show that we are able to locate a thing either in time or place 
 only by its relation to other things. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Do you know any facts indicating that retention is made 
 possible through a modification of the brain that results from each 
 of the experiences of the mind ? 
 
 2. If that is the explanation of retention, how would you explain 
 reproduction ? 
 
 3. On the supposition that the mind has temporal signs, how would 
 you explain its power to interpret them as signs of time ? 
 
 4. At about what age do children begin to understand the meaning 
 of yesterday , last week, etc. ? 
 
 5. Why is it that this knowledge comes so late ? 
 
 6. Are you sure that such a thing as absolute forgetfulness ever 
 takes place ?
 
 LESSON XXVI. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 
 
 Rules for Remembering. Bearing in mind our con- 
 clusion that the basis of memory is in part physical, it is 
 but a step to the further conclusion that whatever is 
 learned in a state of excellent bodily health, other things 
 being equal, is most likely to be remembered. Facts of 
 every-day experience confirm this view. We all know how 
 likely we are to forget things that we learn when we are 
 suffering from a headache, indigestion, or the like. 
 
 Health and Memory. Says a popular writer, Mr. 
 Halleck : " The first rule for securing a better memory is 
 to pay attention to the laws of hygiene, to endeavor by all 
 means to keep the health at high-water mark." 
 
 Attention and Memory. Another rule, equally con- 
 firmed by daily observation, is : Attend carefully and 
 closely to the facts you wish to remember. We have seen 
 in a previous chapter how much memory depends on atten- 
 tion, and we know how much it depends on interest. But 
 interest in a subject increases the power to remember it 
 chiefly through the influence of interest on attention. 
 Many of us find it hard to remember faces. This difficulty 
 
 242
 
 DRAWING AND MEMORY OF FORM. 243 
 
 would be lessened if we carefully noted the faces of people 
 we wish to remember. 
 
 Drawing and Memory of Form. Every teacher 
 knows how the drawing of objects tends to fix their form 
 in the mind. The reason is that in drawing objects we 
 must attend to them. Sir Francis Galton says that M. 
 Boisbaudran trained the visual memory of his pupils with 
 extraordinary success. His method was to have his pupils 
 study "the models thoroughly before they tried to draw 
 them from memory. One favorite expedient was to asso- 
 ciate the sight memory with the muscular memory by 
 making his pupils follow at a distance the outlines of the 
 figures with a pencil held in their hands. After three or 
 four months' practice, their visual memory became greatly 
 strengthened. They had no difficulty in summoning images 
 at will, in holding them steady, and in drawing them." 
 
 Understanding and Memory. A third rule for facili- 
 tating the acquisition of memory is : Get a clear compre- 
 hension of the thing you wish to remember. The famous 
 experiments of Elbringhaus illustrate this in a striking 
 way. He found that h could memorize a stanza of poetry 
 in about one tenth of the time required to memorize the 
 same amount of nonsense syllables. I asked a capable 
 student of Johns Hopkins University some years ago to 
 give me an account of a lecture he had just listened to. 
 " I can not do it," was his reply. " It was not logical." 
 
 Association and Memory. The last example belongs, 
 perhaps, with more propriety under the fourth and most 
 important rule : Multiply associations, entangle the fact you
 
 244 CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 
 
 wish to remember in a net of as many associations as pos- 
 sible, especially those that are logical. 
 
 In studying the association of ideas, we saw that 
 mechanical association is that kind of association in con- 
 sequence of which anything we are thinking of tends to 
 make us think of something else we thought of at or about 
 the same time ; logical or rational association, that which 
 tends to make us think of something between which and 
 the thing we are thinking of the mind has perceived inner 
 relations. 
 
 Educational Value of Mechanical Association. We 
 only need to call to mind instances of the former to realize 
 its comparative educational value. Consider, for example, 
 the following : " Thou didst swear to me, upon a parcel- 
 gilt goblet, sitting in my dolphin chamber, at the round 
 table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Whitsun week, 
 when the prince broke tky head for liking his father to a 
 singing man of Windsor ; thou didst swear to me then, as 
 I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my 
 lady thy wife." Henry IV. This, of course, is an ex- 
 ample of mechanical association, and it enables us to 
 realize that, so far as our thoughts are controlled by that 
 kind of association, they will be directed by chance and 
 accident rather than intelligence. 
 
 When your pupils associate things logically, they are 
 exercising and therefore developing the higher powers of 
 their minds. 
 
 Of Logical Association. Logical or rational associa- 
 tion is association according to some inner relation. But 
 before this relation can form the basis of an association it
 
 LOGICAL ASSOCIATION. 245 
 
 must be apprehended, and this act of apprehension is an 
 exercise of the higher powers of the mind. Fitch says that 
 the difference between a wise man and one who is not wise 
 consists less in the things he knows than in the way he 
 knows them. The wise man knows things in their rela- 
 tions, I think he would say, has his knowledge classified, 
 has associated what he knows rationally. In the same 
 paragraph he observes that an historical fact is learned to 
 little purpose unless it is seen in its bearing on some 
 political, economical, or moral law. I am sure you agree 
 with him. We all know that a teacher may know facts 
 enough about history to pass an ordinary examination very 
 creditably, and yet know them to very little purpose 
 because he knows them in a purely mechanical way. 
 
 Logical Association Increases the Interest. An- 
 other reason for helping our pupils cultivate their logi- 
 cal memory is that they are more interested in what 
 they have associated logically. To learn facts by means 
 of the mechanical memory is an irksome task ; to ap- 
 prehend the relations between those facts, to associate 
 them logically is a delightful labor, especially if the 
 pupil has been led to discern for himself the rela- 
 tions which form the basis of the association. Now 
 interest, as we know, is a great help to the memory. But 
 apart from that it is quite as important for you to interest 
 your pupils for other reasons. If we interest our pupils, 
 we do what we can to make them students for life, and 
 that is a much more important matter than having them 
 learn well any particular subject. Indeed, I think you will 
 admit that if we had to choose between having our pupils 
 careless and indifferent to study at school, and having
 
 246 CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 
 
 them studious through life, it would be entirely wise for 
 us to choose the latter. 
 
 Makes Knowledge Usable. Another reason for cul- 
 tivating the logical memory is that any one with that kind 
 of memory can use what he knows. Some one has said 
 that a man could not stand under a tree with Edmund 
 Burke during a shower of rain without perceiving that he 
 was in the company of a very remarkable man. The 
 reason doubtless was, not that Burke was continually say- 
 ing brilliant or witty things, but that he said nothing that 
 was not to the point. A man may know a great deal 
 mechanically, and yet be unable to use his knowledge, 
 because he can not think of anything when he wants it, 
 and can not see how he can use it when he does think of 
 it. Such a person's mind is like a well-filled scrap bag ; 
 there is a good deal in it, but everything is in such dis- 
 order that you have to turn it upside down before you can 
 get any particular thing out of it. 
 
 You have doubtless heard the saying, " Great memory, 
 little wit." I think we can now see what truth there is 
 in it. It is altogether possible for a person to have a great 
 mechanical memory and have very little mind besides. 
 Indeed, there are plenty of cases on record in which idiots 
 have shown remarkable power of remembering facts me- 
 chanically. But to have a fine logical memory and a poor 
 mind is an impossibility. 
 
 Mechanical Memory of Many Educated Persons. - 
 Educated persons often complain that their memory is not 
 so good as it was in their youth. What they mean is that 
 their mechanical memory is not so good. They have
 
 PLACE FOR THE MECHANICAL MEMORY. 247 
 
 acquired the very excellent habit of fixing their attention 
 on important matters and neglecting the trivial events 
 that are not worth remembering ; and because they forget 
 them, while their uneducated friends remember them, 
 they imagine that their memory suffers by comparison. 
 But it is not so. The educated man cultivates his logical 
 memory, and neglects, for the most part, his mechanical 
 memory ; while the uneducated man does the exact opposite. 
 It is natural, therefore, for the uneducated to have better 
 mechanical memories than the educated. As Dr. Harris 
 observes, if we want the child's memory we can have it. 
 We can force ourselves to ignore the difference between 
 the important and the unimportant, and attend impartially 
 to everything that comes before us. So far as we succeed 
 in doing this, we shall remember important and unimpor- 
 tant matters with equal accuracy. But is such a memory 
 desirable ? No, because in that case we shall remember 
 important matters less accurately than we should have 
 done otherwise. 
 
 But I do not mean to convey the impression that every- 
 thing can be learned by means of the logical memory. 
 Logical association consists in connecting facts together 
 by means of some inner relation. But before we can see 
 the relations between facts, we must know the facts them- 
 selves. 
 
 Place for the Mechanical Memory. For this reason 
 there is a place for the mechanical memory in education. 
 But here you should note that there are as many different 
 memories, so to speak,, as there are kinds of facts to be 
 remembered. There is a memory of colors, a memory of 
 dates, a memory of rocks, and so on. You know very
 
 248 CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 
 
 well that some of your pupils have an excellent memory 
 for geography, others for grammar, others for history, and 
 
 so on. 
 
 No such Thing as the Universal Cultivation of the 
 Memory. Now, since memory is not one faculty, but 
 many, it follows that there is no such thing as a universal 
 cultivation of the memory. If you find your memory weak 
 in any particular direction, what you ought to do is to 
 practice it on the kind of things you find most difficulty in 
 remembering. Dr. Harris gives an interesting and instruc- 
 tive account of his own efforts in cultivating his mechanical 
 memory. When he was about eighteen, he tells us, he had 
 great difficulty in remembering dates. He cultivated his 
 memory for them in the following manner : The first day 
 he learned the dates of accession of three or four English 
 kings; the next day he learned two or three more, and 
 reviewed those he learned the preceding day; the next 
 day, again reviewing from the beginning, he added two or 
 three more to the list, and so on, until he had thoroughly 
 learned the entire list. After two or three months he 
 found he had forgotten some of them, so he learned them 
 again ; and after two or three years he repeated the opera- 
 tion. By such training, he tells us, his memory for dates 
 was so improved that he has never since had any trouble 
 in remembering such dates as he cared to remember. He 
 cultivated his memory for names in a similar way. 
 
 When Verbal Memorizing is Desirable. It follows 
 that verbal memorizing, although mechanical memorizing, 
 is not necessarily bad. On the contrary, under certain 
 circumstances it is essential. Fitch has stated with great
 
 USES OF THE MECHANICAL MEMORY. 249 
 
 clearness the circumstances under which it is valuable : 
 " When the object is to have thoughts, facts, reasonings 
 reproduced, seek to have them reproduced in the pupil's 
 own words. Do not set the faculty of mere verbal mem- 
 ory to work. But when the words themselves in which a 
 fact is embodied have some special fitness or beauty of 
 their own when they represent some scientific datum 
 or central truth, which could not otherwise be so well 
 expressed then see that the form as well as the sub- 
 stance of the expression is learned by heart." Compayre, 
 commenting on this, says that, "according to this, it is 
 easy to fix the limit which verbal repetition should not 
 pass. In grammar, the principal rules ; in arithmetic, the 
 definitions; in geometry, the theorems; in the sciences 
 in general, the formulas ; in history, a few summaries ; in 
 geography, the explanation of a few technical terms; in 
 ethics, a few maxims these are the things which the 
 child ought to know word for word on the condition, of 
 course, that he perfectly understands the meaning of what 
 he recites, and that his attention is called not less to the 
 thought than to the form of the expression." To this I 
 would add that no week should be allowed to pass by in 
 which the pupil is not encouraged to learn, word for word, 
 some beautiful sentence or paragraph, and thus store his 
 mind with beautiful thoughts, beautifully expressed. 
 
 Danger of Underrating the Uses of the Mechanical 
 Memory. In the healthy reaction against the mechani- 
 cal methods in vogue half a century ago, we are in danger 
 of undervaluing the mechanical memory, especially in con- 
 nection with literature. We are apt to think that if a 
 pupil has a thought the form in which he holds it is a
 
 250 CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 
 
 matter of no consequence. Says Professor Davidson : "We 
 are inclined to be content if we can get information rapidly 
 and easily into the heads of our pupils, and trouble our- 
 selves very little about the manner in which it is accom- 
 plished. The Greeks were wiser. They knew that the 
 how is more important than the what ; that conceptions 
 which are presented to the mind clothed in poetic light 
 and heat are far more readily assimilated and retained, and 
 exercise a far deeper and more lasting influence upon the 
 imagination, the feelings, and the will, than those which 
 come to it in the cold gray garb of ordinary prose." 
 
 Difficulty of Making a Practical Application of the 
 Pedagogical Principles in Connection with Memory. - 
 And now I have said substantially what I intended about 
 mechanical and rational association, and mechanical and 
 rational memory. I believe we shall agree that, of all the 
 subjects within the whole range of Psychology, there is 
 scarcely one of more practical importance. We are con- 
 stantly making use of the memory of our pupils. How we 
 make use of it is the question, the answer to which largely 
 determines the quality of our work. But however clearly 
 we understand the difference between logical and mechani- 
 cal memory, and the circumstances under which each ought 
 to be cultivated, I am afraid we shall have difficulty in 
 putting our ideas into practice. Why ? Because we can 
 not help our pupils associate facts logically until they are 
 so associated in our own minds. Pestalozzi thought that 
 it was possible to mechanize instruction so perfectly that 
 any teacher who had mastered the mechanism could suc- 
 ceed. He was profoundly mistaken, not merely because 
 a mechanism will not run itself because a method, how-
 
 ARITHMETIC AND HISTORY. 251 
 
 ever excellent, needs various adaptations to various cases 
 
 -but because good teaching is impossible without an 
 
 ample and rational knowledge of the subject of instruction. 
 
 Illustrated by Arithmetic and History. As long as 
 the addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division of 
 whole numbers seem to be entirely disconnected opera- 
 tions, and each of these entirely disconnected from the 
 addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division of com- 
 mon fractions, and these from the same operations in deci- 
 mal fractions, we can not enable our pupils to associate the 
 facts of arithmetic rationally, because they are not so asso- 
 ciated in our own mind. In like manner, as long as we 
 see no connection between the very different kinds of 
 people who settled at Plymouth and Jamestown, and the 
 differences between the people of Massachusetts and the 
 people of Virginia at the close of the Revolutionary War ; 
 as long as we see no connection between these differences 
 and their reluctance to unite together under a single strong 
 government ; as long as we do not see how this reluctance 
 could only be overcome by compromises in the Constitu- 
 tion which were in the nature of contradictions, which 
 contradictions, under the influence of slavery, led to other 
 contradictions each party affirming its own view with 
 passionate intensity and these to the Civil War until 
 we see these things as clearly as the sun in the noonday 
 heavens, American history is a sealed book to us, and it 
 will be a sealed book to our pupils so far as help from us 
 is concerned, because the facts are associated in our own 
 minds in a merely mechanical way. In like manner, until 
 we realize in detail to what extent the character, history, 
 and institutions of a people are a matter of latitude, and
 
 252 CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 
 
 longitude, and soil, and climate ; until we see that the 
 explanation of the building of a Chicago in fifty years is 
 to be found in the facts of physical geography ; until we 
 see that, if the soil and climate and other physical condi- 
 tions of the North and South had been reversed, the parts 
 they played in the Civil War would have been reversed 
 we can not teach geography properly, because we do not 
 know geography in a rational or logical way. 
 
 In a word, to make a practical use of this distinction 
 between logical and mechanical memory, it is not enough 
 to understand it. We must know the subjects we under- 
 take to teach in a logical or rational way, and the latter is 
 as indispensable as the former. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Summarize the conclusions reached in the lessons on the asso- 
 ciations of ideas and memory. 
 
 2. Analyze the quotation from Henry IV. in order to show that 
 it was the result of mechanical association. 
 
 3. State the various rules for cultivating the memory. 
 
 4. State the various reasons for cultivating the logical memory. 
 
 5. What does Fitch say is the difference between a wise man and 
 one who is not wise ? 
 
 6. How many memories has the mind? i. 
 
 7. How did Dr. Harris cultivate his memory for dates ? 
 
 8. Under what circumstances is verbal memorizing desirable ? 
 
 9. What did Pestalozzi think about mechanizing instruction, and 
 why was he mistaken ? 
 
 10. Illustrate the necessity of a rational knowledge of a subject in 
 order to teach it well. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 i . What light does this lesson throw on the kind of preparation a 
 teacher should make ?
 
 QUESTIONS. 253 
 
 2. 'Make a study of the children you meet to ascertain (i) the things 
 they remember and why, and (2) the kind of memory they exercise 
 most. 
 
 3. Which kind of memory should be chiefly exercised in the case 
 of young pupils, and why ? 
 
 4. " Betty," said a farmer's wife to her servant, "you must go to 
 town for some things. You have such a bad memory that you always 
 forget something, but see if you can remember them all this time." 
 " I'm very sorry, ma'am," says Betty, " that I've such a bad memory, 
 but it's not my fault ; I wish I had a better one." " Now mind," said 
 her mistress, "listen carefully to what I tell you. I want suet and 
 currants for the pudding." "Yes, ma'am, suet and currants." "Then 
 I want leeks and barley for the broth ; don't forget them." " No, 
 ma'am, leeks and barley ; I sha'n't forget." " Then I want a shoulder 
 of mutton, a pound of tea, a pound of coffee, and six pounds of sugar. 
 And as you go by the dressmaker's, tell her she must bring out calico 
 for the lining, some black thread, and a piece of narrow tape." "Yes, 
 ma'am," says Betty, preparing to depart. "Oh, at the grocer's get 
 a jar of black currant jam," adds the mistress. The farmer, who has 
 been quietly listening to this conversation, calls Betty back when she 
 has started, and asks her what she is going to do in town. " Well, 
 sir, I'm going to get tea, sugar, a shoulder of mutton, coffee, coffee 
 let me see, there's something else." " That won't do," said the farmer ; 
 "you must arrange the things as the parson does his sermon, under 
 different heads, or you won't remember them. Now, you have three 
 things to think of breakfast, dinner, and dressmaker." "Yes, sir." 
 " What are you going to get for breakfast ? " " Tea and coffee and 
 sugar and jam," says Betty. "Where do you get these things?" 
 "At the grocer's." "Very well. Now what will be the things put 
 on the table at dinner?" "There'll be broth, meat, and pudding." 
 " Now what have you to get for each of these ? " " For the broth I 
 have to get leeks and barley, for the meat I have to get a shoulder of 
 mutton, and for the pudding I must get suet and currants." " Very 
 good. Where will you get these things ? " "I must get the leeks at 
 the gardener's, the mutton and suet at the butcher's, and the barley 
 and currants at the grocer's." " But you had something else to get 
 at the grocer's." "Yes, sir, the things for breakfast tea, coffee, 
 sugar, and jam." " Very well. Then at the grocer's you have four
 
 254 CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 
 
 things to get for breakfast and two for dinner. When you go to the 
 grocer's, think of one part of his counter as your breakfast table and 
 another part as your dinner table, and go over the things wanted for 
 breakfast and the things wanted for dinner. Then you will remember 
 the four things for breakfast and the two for dinner. Then you will 
 have two other places to go for the dinner. What are they ? " " The 
 gardener's for leeks, and the butcher's for meat and suet." " Very 
 well. That is three of the places. What is the fourth?" "The 
 dressmaker's to tell her to bring out calico, and thread, and tape for 
 the dress." " Now," said her master, " I think you can tell me every- 
 thing you are going for." "Yes," said Betty; "I'm going to the 
 grocer's, the butcher's, and the gardener's. At the grocer's I 'm going 
 to get tea, coffee, sugar, and jam for breakfast, and barley and cur- 
 rants for dinner. But then I shall not have all the things for dinner, 
 so I must go to the butcher's for a shoulder of mutton and suet, and 
 for leeks to the gardener's. Then I must call at the dressmaker's to 
 tell her to bring lining, tape, and thread for the dress." Off goes Betty 
 and does everything she has to do. " Never tell us again," said her 
 master, " that you can't help having a bad memory." Tate's Philos- 
 ophy of Education. What does this illustrate?
 
 LESSON XXVII. 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Definition of Imagination. If you ever watched the 
 growth of the mind of a child, you doubtless noticed that 
 he seemed to remember persons before he showed any 
 signs of thinking of them when they are absent. A child 
 shows in the most unmistakable ways that he remembers 
 his father and mother some time before he gives any evi- 
 dence of thinking of them when they are away. The power 
 of the mind to form ideas of things not present is called 
 imagination. 
 
 What is an Image ? We may call imagination the 
 image-making faculty, if we give a broad enough meaning 
 to image. We can think not only of absent persons, but 
 of tastes, touches, hopes, fears, etc., no longer experienced. 
 If, then, we define imagination as the image-making faculty, 
 we must remember that an image is the mental represen- 
 tation of any experience whatever. 
 
 Two Kinds of Imagination. There are two kinds of 
 imagination. When a child cries for his absent mamma, 
 the act of imagination evidently consists in holding before 
 the mind a copy, more or less faithful, of the mother, as 
 seen and known. But the same child will soon think of 
 
 255
 
 256 IMAGINATION. 
 
 things he has never seen of things that have never come 
 within the range of his experience. He will tell you of 
 what he will do when he becomes a bird, or of good little 
 girls putting a cat's eyes in after a bad dog has scratched 
 them out and much besides of the same sort. The first 
 kind of imagination is called reminiscent or reproductive, 
 since it reproduces past experiences ; the second is called 
 constructive, since it takes ideas or images furnished by 
 the reproductive imagination and combines them into new 
 wholes. 
 
 Difference between Reproductive Imagination and 
 Memory. " But what is the difference," you at once 
 ask, "between reproductive imagination and memory? 
 I hear a song, and it makes me think of the friend whom I 
 heard sing it a few days ago ; an image of my friend as 
 singing the song rises before my mind. This, I suppose, 
 is both an act of memory and reproductive imagination; 
 what is the difference between the two ? " 
 
 To begin with, in its early stages, memory exists with- 
 out imagination. A child who knows his mamma when he 
 sees her, but can not think of her when she is absent, 
 illustrates this. 
 
 " But when he begins to think of his absent mamma, as 
 he will by and by, what, then, is the difference between 
 memory and reproductive imagination ? When he thinks 
 about her, does he not remember her, and is not his 
 thought of her an image, and therefore the product of the 
 imagination?" Yes; but there is a difference between 
 simply thinking of her, or rather between simply having 
 the image of her in his mind, and knowing that image 
 as the image of one he has seen. The difference between
 
 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 257 
 
 reproductive imagination and constructive imagination is 
 that the images resulting from reproductive imagination 
 are copies of past experiences, while those resulting from 
 constructive imagination are not. Now, it is altogether 
 possible for one to suppose that what are really products 
 of reproductive imagination are products of constructive 
 imagination, because the images resulting from the act of 
 reproductive imagination are not accompanied by a recol- 
 lection of the original experiences. 
 
 We shall see the relation between them from another 
 point of view if we remember that the exercise of the 
 reproductive imagination is a part, of which the memory of 
 an absent object is the whole. There can be no memory 
 of an absent object unless the image of it is in the mind, 
 and that image is the product of the reproductive imagina- 
 tion. But having the image of an absent object, and 
 remembering the object, are not the same. There is no 
 complete act of memory of an absent object until the image 
 in the mind is recognized as the image of some particular 
 object or thing already experienced. Moreover, while a 
 complete act of memory of an absent object involves 
 retention, reproduction, recognition, and localization, the 
 imagination of it requires but two retention and repro- 
 duction. If the image of a past object or experience comes 
 unattended by any of the images that formed a part of its 
 original escort, it can not be localized i.e., completely 
 remembered nevertheless it is imagined. Also, it may 
 not be recognized ; even then it is imagined. 
 
 We saw in the last lesson that there is no such thing 
 as a single faculty of memory ; that we ought to speak of 
 the memories rather than of the memory of the mind, 
 since we have as many memories as there are classes of
 
 258 IMAGINATION. 
 
 facts to be remembered. The same is true of the imagina- 
 tion. Mr. Gallon has done more perhaps than any other 
 man to impress this fact upon the world. He sent out a 
 long series of questions, the first group of which related 
 to the illumination, definition, and coloring of the mental 
 image, and were framed as follows : 
 
 " Before addressing yourself to any of the Questions on 
 
 the opposite page, think of some definite object suppose 
 
 it is your breakfast-table as you sat down to it this morning 
 
 and consider carefully the picture that rises before your 
 
 mind's eye. 
 
 " i . Illumination. ts the image dim or fairly clear ? 
 Is its 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-crust, mustard, meat, parsley, or whatever may have 
 been on the table, quite distinct and natural ? " 
 
 The answers to these questions revealed the interesting 
 fact that the clearness, and definiteness, and vividness of 
 the images in men's mind vary in the most remarkable 
 way from individual to individual. 
 
 Influence of the Will upon Imagination. There is 
 not a moment when images of one sort or another are not 
 in our minds. Sometimes we ourselves determine to a 
 considerable extent their character. As Dr. Reid said, 
 "We seem to treat the thoughts that present themselves 
 to the fancy " - imagination " in crowds as a great man 
 treats the courtiers who attend at his levee. They are all 
 ambitious of his attention. He goes round the circle,
 
 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 259 
 
 bestowing a bow upon one, a smile upon another, asks a 
 short question of a third, while a fourth is honored with 
 a particular conference ; and the greater part have no par- 
 ticular mark of attention, but go as they came. It is true 
 he can give no mark of his attention to those who were 
 not there, but he has a sufficient number for making a 
 choice and a distinction." If those who were treated so 
 coolly had at once left, while those upon whom the great 
 man smiled had stayed till some of their friends and rela- 
 tives whom they themselves summoned because of their 
 kind treatment' were honored at their expense, the case 
 would exactly illustrate the influence that we exert, when- 
 ever we choose, over the character of the images that 
 throng through our minds. Those that we do not attend 
 to, vanish ; those that we do attend to, stay until we neglect 
 them for the sake of those that come into our minds through 
 their connection with them. 
 
 But sometimes the will abdicates, and lets one's thoughts 
 take their own course. As the rider of a trusty horse 
 might throw the reins on his neck, and let him wander at 
 will across fields, through woods, over meadows, so we 
 sometimes give full rein to our thoughts, and let them take 
 us where they will. If we break in upon any such state 
 for the purpose of making a study of it, I think that we 
 shall usually find that the images in our minds are the 
 products of constructive imagination sometimes very 
 grotesque ones. 
 
 Difference between Reproductive and Constructive 
 Imagination. To learn whether any particular image, 
 or combination of images, is the product of reproductive or 
 constructive imagination, all we have to do is to learn
 
 26O IMAGINATION. 
 
 whether or not it is a copy of a past experience. Our 
 memories, of course, are defective, and we may be uncer- 
 tain on that account ; but, apart from that, we need be in 
 no doubt whatever. 
 
 Applying this test, it is evident that when we learn any- 
 thing from a book or from a friend we are exercising the 
 constructive imagination. Reading is sometimes defined 
 as thinking along prescribed lines ; and if we carefully 
 examine our own minds, we shall see that all thinking is 
 done, for the most part, through images, either of things 
 or words. When, then, we read, we form and combine 
 images in a certain prescribed way in the way prescribed 
 by the language of the author provided we understand 
 him. When we listen to the conversation of a friend, we 
 evidently do the same thing. Unless, therefore, our friend 
 or book says precisely what we ourselves have thought, 
 and in precisely the same way, it is evident that we grasp 
 the thoughts by means of the constructive imagination. 
 
 When we find out a thing for ourselves, by the exercise 
 of our own powers the only other way in which we can 
 learn anything I think we shall see that is done through 
 constructive imagination. A boy has a problem in arith- 
 metic to solve. What is the first thing for him to do ? 
 Understand it, as we say ; and this, we have just seen, he 
 can only do through constructive imagination. When he 
 clearly grasps the conditions stated in the problem, he 
 asks what follows from them. He reasons that such and 
 such a result would follow which result is likewise 
 imaged constructively, and so on to the end. Kepler 
 wanted to know the shape of the path which the planets 
 make in their journeys round the sun. He made guess 
 after guess, each time comparing his guess with the facts,
 
 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 261 
 
 until finally he was successful. This again was accom- 
 plished through the constructive imagination, was it not ? 
 Only by means of the constructive imagination could he 
 form any sort of an idea of any particular planet, and each 
 guess was an imaging of this planet pursuing a course that 
 he had never seen it take. A child of one or two or three 
 years listens daily to conversations between his mamma 
 and papa. Sometimes consciously always consciously 
 or unconsciously he is trying to understand them. How 
 does he succeed in learning the meaning of so many 
 words ? Precisely, for the most part, as Kepler discovered 
 the shape of the planetary orbits by making a successful 
 hypothesis. By the time he is three he knows how to use 
 words that apply to purely mental processes such as know, 
 think, believe, understand. He thinks of forms an image 
 of certain mental facts which he remembers in connec- 
 tion with certain words brings images into a relation in 
 which he has never experienced them, until he gets the right 
 pair together until he makes a successful hypothesis. 
 Sometimes we can catch him in the very act of construc- 
 tively ascertaining the meaning of a word. When a child 
 of two speaks of the " skin of a book " through an act of 
 inductive reasoning, he has concluded that the outside 
 of everything is its skin and this conclusion, to be a 
 conclusion at all, must be imaged in part in his mind. 
 
 Evidently, therefore, the constructive imagination is not 
 monopolized by poets and painters and novelists. Who- 
 ever reads, whoever listens to a conversation intelligently, 
 whoever thinks imagines, and imagines constructively. 
 " There are indeed as many different kinds " or rather 
 cases " of imagination as there are kinds of intellectual 
 activity."
 
 262 IMAGINATION. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . Define imagination, image, percept. 
 
 2. What does a complete act of memory involve ? 
 
 3. State and illustrate the difference between imagination and 
 memory. 
 
 4. Illustrate the differences in the imagination of different people. 
 
 5. State and explain the quotation from Dr. Reid. 
 
 6. What is active imagination ? Passive? 
 
 7. What is the difference between reproductive and constructive 
 imagination ? 
 
 8. How do we read a book intelligently, or understand a conver- 
 sation ? 
 
 9. How does a child come to learn the meaning of words ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. What makes possible the difference between the active and 
 passive imagination ? 
 
 2. Give examples of cases in which children used words incor- 
 rectly, although reasoning in the same way as they did when they 
 used other words correctly. 
 
 3. Compare the imagination of children with that of older people, 
 and explain the difference.
 
 LESSON XXVIII. 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 (Continued?) 
 
 Scope of Constructive Imagination. In the last lesson 
 we saw that the imagination of popular thought differs 
 widely from the imagination of which Psychology treats. 
 When people in ordinary conversation speak of imagination, 
 they mean a kind of constructive imagination the kind 
 that poets, painters, novelists, and musicians possess in an 
 unusually high degree the power of combining ideas or 
 images furnished by reproductive imagination into new 
 wholes, without having received suggestions as to the com- 
 binations from any one else. But it is now plain that we, 
 who understand the poems, paintings, and novels that are 
 the product of the constructive imagination, exercise con- 
 structive imagination. It does, indeed, require a higher 
 power of it to combine images and groups of images origi- 
 nally than to do so under guidance, so much higher that 
 some writers would give it another name and call it the 
 creative imagination. But if we adopt their name we need 
 to remember that the creative imagination of a Shakespeare, 
 a Beethoven, a Thackeray, a Raphael, does not differ in 
 kind from that of the child who imagines himself becoming 
 a bird. 
 
 263
 
 264 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Differences in Constructive Imagination. This en- 
 ables us to see why great works of art works which are 
 the product of a high power of constructive imagination 
 often wait a long time to get their proper appreciation. 
 Talk to a child about the pleasure of study, and he will 
 not understand you. His experience has not furnished 
 him with the material for comprehending what you say. 
 His idea of happiness is the possession of cake and candy 
 in abundance, and toys without stint. A little girl, who 
 wished to show her affection for her mamma, urged her 
 papa to get " a wheelbarrow and a dollie " for her mamma 
 when he went to town ; and when he came back without 
 them she was deeply grieved. She built her notion of 
 happiness out of the materials furnished by her own expe- 
 rience, and had no idea that it was not valid for every one. 
 Some great writers seem to be so superior to even their 
 most highly cultivated contemporaries in their power of 
 constructive imagination that the latter can not think the 
 thoughts of the former even under their direction. Beet- 
 hoven's Grand Symphony was unintelligible to his musical 
 contemporaries, and Newton's Principia was beyond the 
 comprehension of the best mathematicians of his time. 
 The intuitions of Beethoven and Newton, their perception 
 of musical and mathematical truth, were so much more 
 vivid and profound than those of their contemporaries that 
 the products of their constructive imagination were unin- 
 telligible. 
 
 Constructive Imagination and the Feelings. Con- 
 structive imagination is also very closely related to the 
 feelings. We have already noticed two quite sharply con- 
 trasted cases in which constructive imagination works
 
 IMAGINATION AND BELIEF. 265 
 
 the case in which its products are controlled by the will, 
 and that in which the will exercises no control whatever 
 over the play of images. The products of passive imagina- 
 tion as we may call the latter plainly depend upon 
 the feelings. Tell me the character of the images that 
 habitually pass through your mind, and I will tell you 
 what you like. As you can tell the tastes of a gourmand 
 by noticing what he eats, so you can determine a man's 
 likes and dislikes by knowing the images upon which he 
 habitually dwells. This explains the very great influence 
 of the feelings on belief. Only so far as the facts of the 
 world and of life get imaged 'in our minds do they influence 
 belief ; and those that we image are, for the most part, 
 those that it gives us pleasure to think of those that it 
 gratifies some part of our emotional nature to think of. 
 
 Relation between Imagination and Belief. It follows 
 that the exercise of the imagination may be attended with 
 very grave intellectual results. The desire to imagine 
 pleasant things may be stronger than the desire to imagine 
 things that are true. All men of strong prejudices are 
 examples of this. They are so anxious to believe a par- 
 ticular thing find so much pleasure in picturing it in 
 their imagination and thinking of it as real that they 
 will not fairly consider the arguments that make against 
 their favorite theory. That is the reason why strong par- 
 tisans only read the newspapers of their own party. They 
 do not want to read both sides of the question. They only 
 want to see their own side strongly supported, that they 
 may have the pleasure of dwelling upon arguments that 
 support the conclusion they have made up their minds to 
 believe.
 
 266 IMAGINATION. 
 
 But the constructive imagination is often exercised for 
 the sake of the feelings. When you build air castles, what 
 are you doing ? Exercising the constructive imagination 
 - bringing before your mind images of what you would 
 like to be real. Why do you do it ? Because it pleases 
 you. That is the reason why most people are so fond of 
 reading novels. The events which the novelist enables 
 them to picture please them more than the prosaic realities 
 of every-day life. Sully has a paragraph on this subject 
 that is worthy of careful attention. " The indulgence in 
 these pleasures of the imagination," he says, "is legitimate 
 within certain bounds. But it is attended with dangers. 
 A youth whose mind dwells long on the wonders of 
 romance may grow discontented with his actual surround- 
 ings, and so morally unfit for the work and duties of life. 
 Or what comes to much the same he learns to satisfy 
 himself with these imaginative indulgences, and so, by the 
 habitual severance of feeling from will, gradually becomes 
 incapable of deciding and acting a result illustrated by 
 the history of Coleridge and other dreamers." I read a 
 story of a Russian lady which illustrates this. She went 
 to the theatre, and wept freely over the imaginary suffer- 
 ings of the hero of the tragedy ; while the knowledge that 
 her coachman was shivering in the cold on the outside 
 waiting for her did not cause the faintest suggestion of 
 pity. Of course, if we read novels not merely for pleasure, 
 but for their interpretations of life for the light they 
 throw upon our relations to our fellows such a " sev- 
 erance of feeling from will" can not follow. It is for 
 teachers and parents to see to it that novel-reading serves 
 its proper educational purpose the purpose of broaden- 
 ing and strengthening the imagination, and preparing the
 
 IMAGINATION AND ACTION. 267 
 
 will for its proper work by giving the feelings that are 
 excited by it an active direction. 
 
 Relation between Imagination and Action. It fol- 
 lows from all this that what we will to do often depends 
 upon constructive imagination. Men do rash things because 
 they do not clearly realize the consequences of their con- 
 duct. Help a boy form the habit of clearly and fully 
 realizing the probable consequences of his conduct help 
 him form the habit of realizing that the consequences of 
 our acts depend not upon our wishes and intentions, but 
 upon the nature of our acts and you have gone a long 
 way toward giving him the power and the habit of willing 
 intelligently. 
 
 This brief survey of the relation of imagination to our 
 mental life enables us to realize what indeed a considera- 
 tion of its nature would have enabled us to see beforehand 
 that the part it plays in our mental life is of the very 
 highest importance. Not reality, but what gets repre- 
 sented in our minds as reality not what is, but what is 
 imaged affects our mental life. It is exceedingly inter- 
 esting and instructive to note the nai've self-importance of 
 a child the belief, appearing in so many forms, that 
 the world exists for him. The stern relentlessness of 
 nature the stoic disregard of our desires and wishes with 
 which she pushes on to her own ends, trampling us under 
 foot if we but cross her path has not got imaged in his 
 mind. And until it does, his attitude toward the world is 
 precisely the same as though his thoughts were true. If, 
 indeed, it is true and is it not ? that all good causes 
 depend upon the right training of the child, is it not 
 evident what tremendous importance attaches to the right
 
 268 IMAGINATION. 
 
 training of the faculty that constitutes the audience-chamber 
 in which Reality gets its only hearing ? 
 
 Effects of Training the Imagination. The accurate 
 study of any subject is a training of the imagination, and 
 yet there is scarcely one that does not tend to dispose the 
 mind to be inhospitable to the images that represent cer- 
 tain phases of Reality. The specialist in mathematics is 
 in danger of forgetting that not all reality is demonstrable ; 
 hints and suggestions and probabilities, that fall short of 
 demonstration, he is in danger of despising. The specialist 
 in literature is in danger of thinking of the attainment of 
 truth as altogether too easy a matter. What did Shake- 
 speare mean ? What he the student finds in him. 
 And he is in danger of being much too ready to project 
 himself after the same fashion into the great Book of 
 Nature, and get at the heart of her mysteries in the same 
 easy way. The specialist in any branch of natural science 
 is in danger of forgetting that there are any facts except 
 those that can be weighed and measured, or that anything 
 is worthy of belief that can not be proved experimentally. 
 The specialist in mind is, or rather was (it is scarcely true 
 now that so much stress is laid on Physiological Psychol- 
 ogy), in danger of undervaluing the methods of natural 
 science the methods that have so completely transformed 
 the civilization of this century. 
 
 All this enables us to see that one of our great intellect- 
 ual needs is breadth of culture, which is indeed, for the 
 most part, but another name for that training which makes 
 us disposed and able to give a fair hearing to all sides of 
 Reality, and that we are in danger of missing it through 
 too early specialization.
 
 IMAGINATION AND GEOGRAPHY. 269 
 
 Imagination and Geography. But while the various 
 subjects mentioned above afford scope for the cultivation 
 of the imagination, we shall, of course, bear in mind that 
 the subjects especially adapted to its training in the public 
 schools are history, geography, and reading. We should 
 prepare to teach history in part by getting a thorough 
 comprehension of the motives of the men who played a 
 leading part in history ; and we should endeavor to give 
 our pupils such insight into their characters as to check 
 the tendency to unqualified praise and blame. We should 
 also try to give them the power to hold in their minds 
 complex groups of facts, that they may see their relations 
 to each other. In descriptive geography, we should try to 
 leave in their minds definite and clear images of the coun- 
 tries they are studying. See the kind of knowledge of 
 Tasmania Dr. Arnold wanted : "Will you describe to me 
 the general aspect of the country round Hobart Town ? 
 To this day I never could meet with a description of the 
 common face of the country about New York or Boston or 
 Philadelphia, and therefore I have no distinct ideas of it. 
 Is your country plain or undulating, your valleys deep or 
 shallow, curving, or with steep sides and flat bottoms ? 
 Are your fields large or small, parted by hedges or stone 
 walls, with single trees about them, or patches of wood 
 here and there ? Are there many scattered houses, and 
 what are they built of brick, wood, or stone ? And what 
 are the hills and streams like ridges or with waving 
 summits, with plain sides or indented with combs, full of 
 springs or dry, and what is their geology ?" Such a knowl- 
 edge of the look of a country we want to get and give our 
 pupils, and such knowledge can not fail to increase the 
 power to form vivid images of things.
 
 270 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Imagination and Reading. One of Mr. Gallon's 
 incidents will enable us to see the difference between the 
 proper and the improper use of the imagination in reading. 
 " I want to tell you about a boat," he said to a company 
 one day, and, before proceeding further, he asked them to 
 tell him what his words suggested. " 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 blue 
 and white." It is unnecessary to say that that kind of 
 imagination interferes with abstract thought. " Another 
 person, who was accustomed to philosophize, said that the 
 word ' boat ' had aroused no definite image becatise he 
 had purposely held his mind in suspense." But if Mr. 
 Galton had gone on : " The boat was a four-oared racing- 
 boat, it was passing quickly to the left just in front of me, 
 and the men were bending forward to take a fresh stroke," 
 then his hearers should have formed a picture ; and the more 
 vivid, detailed, and exact the picture, the more completely 
 the imagination would have subserved its proper function. 
 In the teaching of reading, then, discourage your pupils 
 from forming definite images corresponding to general 
 terms, but encourage them to form exact and detailed 
 images corresponding to particular terms. 
 
 Child Study and Imagination. But there are other 
 suggestions that I think we should get from this study of 
 imagination. We have seen how universally active the 
 constructive imagination is, and yet that it depends for its 
 materials upon the reproductive imagination. We see, 
 therefore, from a new point of view the necessity of making 
 a careful study of our pupils. You would not hire a man
 
 QUESTIONS. 271 
 
 to build a house without furnishing the necessary materials. 
 Be equally reasonable with your pupils, and do not expect 
 them to build images out of nothing. Many a little boy or 
 girl has an utterly erroneous idea of an ocean, because the 
 teacher has not taken pains to dwell on the experiences 
 the images of which would have made the required activity 
 of the constructive imagination possible. 
 
 But with all the pains you may take, if you want to be 
 sure that your pupils have performed the necessary acts of 
 constructive imagination, there is but one way- by ques- 
 tioning. We are constantly talking to our pupils about 
 matters that, by long reading and reflection, have become 
 familiar to us. First comprehended with difficulty, they 
 have become so simple that we forget how they looked 
 when our minds got their first glimpse of them. We can 
 hardly realize that what is so simple to us should be diffi- 
 cult to any one, and we never shall realize it save by ever- 
 lasting questioning. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Summarize the conclusions reached in the last lesson. 
 
 2. Contrast the ordinary ideas of imagination with that set forth 
 in this lesson. 
 
 3. Why is it that the works of "creative imagination" are often 
 beyond the comprehension of the age in which they were produced ? 
 
 4. Show the influence of the feelings on constructive imagination, 
 and of the constructive imagination on the feelings. 
 
 5. Account for strong partisanship. 
 
 6. What is " the severance of feeling from will " ? 
 
 7. Show the place and importance of imagination in our mental life. 
 
 8. What is breadth of culture, and how can it be gained ? 
 
 9. What uses should be made of the imagination in teaching his- 
 tory, geography, and reading ?
 
 272 IMAGINATION. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Mathematicians and musicians to-day understand with ease 
 Newton's Principia and Beethoven's Grand Symphony ; account 
 for the fact. 
 
 2. Make a study of the minds of the children you meet for the 
 purpose of learning (i) what they have formed images of ; and (2) to 
 what an extent their images are due to their social surroundings, and 
 to what an extent to the common impulses of childhood. 
 
 3. How would you try to cultivate a spirit of open-mindedness ? 
 
 4. What subject in the public school course offers the best 
 material for this purpose ? 
 
 5. How would you try to prevent the severance of feeling from 
 will? 
 
 6. Do persons who are " naturally suspicious " get pleasure from 
 indulging in their suspicions, even when what they suspect is 
 unpleasant ?
 
 LESSON XXIX. 
 
 CONCEPTION. 
 
 What the Mind Does in Conception. The word 
 "dog" evidently does not mean the same as "this dog." 
 " This dog " may be a long-haired, long-nosed, long-eared 
 black dog, with white spots on his back ; while " dog " is 
 the name not only of this dog, but of all dogs whatever. 
 The same is true, of course, of all general names. All 
 general names are names of classes names that are 
 applicable to every individual of the class while particu- 
 lar names, such as proper nouns and common nouns, lim- 
 ited by words like " this " and " that," are names that can 
 be applied in the same sense to but one individual. How 
 did the mind get this power this power to use class- 
 names intelligently ? We never see a class ; l we only see 
 individuals. Classes do not make themselves known to 
 us through any of the senses. How, then, does the mind 
 form an idea of a class ? To answer that question is to 
 state what the mind does in conception, for conception is 
 that act of the mind by which it forms an idea of a class, 
 or -that act of the mind that enables us to use general 
 names intelligently. 
 
 1 It is, of course, understood that I am using the word " class " to denote 
 an indefinite number of individuals that resemble each other in certain 
 particulars. 
 
 273
 
 2/4 CONCEPTION. 
 
 First Step towards a Knowledge of Things. We 
 
 have seen that our mental life begins with unclassified, 
 unknown, indefinite, undifferenced sensations that the 
 first step towards a knowledge of things consists in the 
 transformation of what we can only describe as vague 
 feeling into definite sensations of this and that character. 
 I say the first step. We must be careful to note that this 
 transformation is not finished ; a child does not become 
 conscious of definite sensations of sound and taste before 
 it begins to take the second step before it begins to 
 localize its sensations. We must think of this transforma- 
 tion not as an instantaneous process, but as a gradual 
 change. A change in the direction of decreasing indefi- 
 niteness in sensations is undoubtedly the first change in 
 the direction of knowledge of things, or, indeed, of any 
 knowledge whatever. But before any sensation has the 
 definite character our sensations now have when we attend 
 to them, the child begins to take the second step it 
 begins to localize its sensations. 
 
 Second and Third Steps. But here again we must 
 note that this feeling of place may have very different 
 degrees of definiteness. Even in our mature experiences 
 we are sometimes conscious of sensations of pain without 
 being able to locate them precisely, as when we have the 
 toothache and do not know exactly which tooth aches. 
 This process of localization, then, is at first a vague feeling of 
 whereness ; and before this vague feeling becomes a knowl- 
 edge of a definite place before the second step towards 
 a knowledge of things has been fully taken the third 
 begins; the child's sensations are beginning to be grouped 
 together and regarded as qualities of external objects.
 
 KNOWLEDGE OF INDIVIDUALS. 275 
 
 In What does the Knowledge of Individuals Con- 
 sist ? Let us suppose the three steps taken ; let us 
 suppose that a child has come to know a long-haired, long- 
 nosed, long-eared black dog, with white spots on his back, 
 to such an extent that, when asked where the dog is, he 
 looks at him, and says "dog" when he sees him, as soon 
 as he begins to talk. In what does this knowledge con- 
 sist ? In the fact that he has associated certain sensations 
 of color with certain sensations of touch those which he 
 has received from running his hand over the dog and 
 both these with the name "dog." This is how it happens 
 that when he sees or feels the dog he thinks of the name, 
 and that when he hears the name he thinks of the dog. 
 The sensations of color and touch, and the name "dog," 
 have become so tied together by association by contiguity 
 that one always brings the other to his mind. 
 
 But now we need to remember that the pair so tied 
 together is, strictly speaking, not one pair at all, but an 
 indefinite number of pairs more or less closely resembling 
 each other. No matter who says " dog," whether papa, or 
 mamma, or brother, or sister, or nurse, whether the word 
 is pronounced in a high or low tone of voice, whether the 
 speaker is one foot or ten feet away, the child thinks of 
 "dog." But the sensation of sound in each of these 
 cases is different. No matter where he sees the dog, 
 whether in-doors or out ; no matter what the dog is 
 doing, whether eating or drinking, walking, running, 
 standing, or lying down, the child recognizes him - 
 thinks of his name. But the sensation of color in each 
 of these cases is different. This looks like general 
 knowledge to begin with. We are trying to learn how 
 the mind forms general ideas how it gains the power
 
 276 CONCEPTION. 
 
 to use general names intelligently. It looks as though it 
 exercises this power even in knowing individual objects. 
 The spoken word " dog " is itself the name of a large class 
 of sounds ; for, as we have seen, it is not only a different 
 sound in the mouth of every different speaker, but in no 
 two cases do they exactly resemble each other. The sen- 
 sations of color, also, received from the dog are not the 
 same sensations, but an indefinitely large class of more or 
 less closely resembling sensations. The child, then, in 
 recognizing the word " dog " whenever he hears it, and the 
 sensations of color received from the dog whenever he 
 sees him, seems to perform a mental act very much like 
 recognizing any dog whenever he sees him ; but that 
 implies a knowledge of the class "dog" implies, in a 
 word, the exercise of the very power of conception we are 
 trying to explain. 
 
 What does the Child Know First ? But are we not 
 
 mistaken ? Students of mind, from Aristotle down, have 
 noticed that when a child begins to talk it calls all men 
 "papa" indiscriminately. What is the explanation of this ? 
 It must be either that the child perceives the resemblance 
 between other men and his papa, and applies the same 
 name to them because of their resemblance knowing, 
 nevertheless, that they are different individuals or that 
 he confuses every man with his papa, because he sees no 
 difference between them. If we accept the latter, we must 
 say with Sir William Hamilton, that " in the mouths of 
 children language at first expresses neither the precisely 
 general nor the determinately individual, but the vagtie 
 and confused" and that this vague and confused idea, 
 modified in one direction, becomes the definite knowledge
 
 REASONS. 277 
 
 of an individual ; modified in another, the definite knowl- 
 edge of a class. " Papa," for example, would not mean to 
 a child his own father, neither would it be the name of a 
 class perceived to consist of different individuals, but the 
 name applied to resembling individuals not known to be 
 different. 
 
 In discussing this question, we must try to get at the 
 heart of the matter ; we must try to separate what is 
 merely accidental and incidental from what is essential. 
 What is the essential fact maintained ? It is that the first 
 knowledge which children have of the persons and things 
 about them is not of persons and known things to be defi- 
 nite individuals, but of persons and things confused with 
 each other, because of their resemblances. This may be 
 true, and the contention of Aristotle and of many students 
 of mind since his time that children call all men "papa," 
 for example, indiscriminately may be false. Children 
 begin to talk at quite different stages of their development. 
 If the theory is true, we may expect, therefore, to see evi- 
 dences of this confusion in the language of some children 
 when they begin to talk, and not in that of others. 
 
 Reasons. I believe that the first knowledge of children 
 is of this character : (i) because the mind perceives resem- 
 blances more easily than differences. I know two brothers 
 whom at first I could scarcely tell apart ; now, I see that 
 they are so unlike that it is hard to realize that I should 
 ever have confused them. What is the explanation ? At 
 first I saw resemblances only; not until I had seen them 
 often did I note the differences between them. Children's 
 minds evidently work the same way. Ducks, geese, swans 
 are all ducks to them. And we may expect them to show
 
 278 CONCEPTION. 
 
 as much less power in perceiving differences than we 
 possess as their minds are less developed than ours. 
 (2) There are cases in which children tmquestionably con- 
 fuse different individuals, one of whom they know well, 
 because of their resemblances. Perez teils the following 
 story of a child of thirteen months : "As one of his cousins 
 was like his uncle, having the same sort of beard, and the 
 same kind of figure and voice, the child treated him at 
 once as an old acquaintance. He called him Toto (the 
 name he had given to his uncle). . . . Seeing a pencil in 
 his cousin's hand, he took it from him, put it in his mouth, 
 and made with his lips the movements and sounds of a 
 man who is smoking and puffing his smoke in the air. 
 His uncle used to smoke. When he got down from the 
 table he said, 'lou, lou, lou, lou,' in a tone of entreaty. 
 This was explained to the cousin as signifying that he was 
 to imitate the dog as his uncle was in the habit of doing 
 to the child's great delight. Out in the garden the child 
 made another request, which his cousin did not under- 
 stand, much to the astonishment of the former, who was 
 accustomed to being instantly obeyed by his uncle. . . . 
 His cousin, having been coached up in his part, humored, 
 as far as possible, all the habits which his uncle had made 
 necessary to the child ; but some he replaced by ways of 
 his own ; and the end of it was, that after being with his 
 cousin three weeks the child afterwards expected from his 
 uncle all the gestures, tones of voice, games, indulgences, 
 and acts of obedience which the new Toto had accustomed 
 him to." 
 
 What Makes the Perception of Individuals Possible ? 
 Such facts seem to show that the first knowledge of
 
 QUESTIONS. 279 
 
 children is neither of individuals nor of classes. Not of 
 individuals, because the child has only noted resemblances 
 between things, or between the same thing seen at dif- 
 ferent times. But the perception of individuals is impos- 
 sible without the perception of differences. Two men with 
 exactly similar beard, same complexion, of the same size 
 exactly similar in every respect, and occupying the 
 same position would not be two men, but one. Two 
 men also who seemed to be exactly alike in every respect 
 would be regarded as the same person, however unlike 
 they might be. Also, the first knowledge of children is 
 not of classes, because, until they know individuals, they 
 can not know classes, since a class means and is nothing 
 but a collection of individuals resembling each other in 
 certain particulars. But their first ideas of things are 
 vague, confused ideas of resemblances between things not 
 known to be different. To avoid circumlocution, we will 
 call this idea a class-image. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Trace the progress of the mind from indefinite sensations to the 
 knowledge of external objects. 
 
 2. What kind of knowledge do children first gain of external 
 objects ? 
 
 3. Justify your answer. 
 
 4. State the case reported by Perez. What does it prove? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1 . Report any cases similar to the one reported by Perez, that 
 have come under your observation. 
 
 2. Have you noticed children calling other men " papa," and if so, 
 did you notice whether they seemed to look upon them as strangers, or
 
 28O CONCEPTION. 
 
 whether their manner towards them was the same as towards their 
 own papa ? 
 
 3. Can you prove by your observation of children that they 
 perceive resemblances more easily than differences ? 
 
 4. Can you prove by your own experience that you do the same 
 thing ?
 
 LESSON XXX. 
 
 CONCEPTION. 
 (Continued?) 
 
 Steps towards the Knowledge of Concepts. Since 
 a knowledge of class-images antecedes a knowledge of 
 individuals, to explain conception we have first to explain 
 how the knowledge of class-images externalized as things 
 becomes a knowledge of definite individuals. Evidently 
 the various steps or stages that mark the progress of the 
 mind from those undifferentiated, indefinite sensations 
 with which our mental life began to the formation of con- 
 cepts are (i) the knowledge of class-images externalized 
 as things ; (2) the knowledge of individuals ; and (3) the 
 formation of concepts. 
 
 How a Knowledge of Class-Images Becomes a Knowl- 
 edge of Individuals. To see how the knowledge of 
 class-images externalized as things becomes the knowledge 
 of individuals, we must study our own experiences. Why 
 did I confuse the two brothers mentioned in the last 
 lesson ? Because I saw no differences between them. 
 It seems hard to realize that a child can see no difference 
 between a large man with a full beard and a small one with 
 none. But our powers of perceiving both resemblances 
 and differences are much greater than a child's ; and if I 
 
 281
 
 282 CONCEPTION. 
 
 could confuse two people whom I now see to be very 
 unlike, we shall be able to realize that a child may see 
 .two very different things without being able to observe 
 any difference between them. How did I finally gain the 
 power to tell them apart ? By withdrawing my attention 
 from them as wholes and fixing it upon individual 
 features size, color of eyes, and the like. In precisely 
 similar ways the child gains the power to distinguish 
 individuals. And here we can see why it is so hard for 
 him to acquire it. It is easy for you to withdraw your 
 attention from objects as wholes and fix it upon parts or 
 qualities, but it is very hard for a child. The individual 
 features are there, but he does not see them because he 
 does not attend to them. But little by little he gains the 
 power to fix his attention upon individual features, and as 
 he acquires it he gains a knowledge of individuals. 
 
 What Differences are First Noted ? When a child 
 distinguishes individuals because he notes some of the 
 differences between them, it is easy to see that he will 
 first note only the most striking differences. The first 
 difference that he notes between a big black dog and a 
 small white one is probably a difference in color. The 
 class-image of dog has become, on the one hand, the per- 
 ception of individual dogs. Seeing no difference between 
 them except in color, and noticing that they are both 
 called dogs, he drops out of his class-image of dog the 
 element of color, and associates what is left with the name 
 "dog" whenever he hears it. What is left of the class- 
 image when the element of color is dropped out of it is a 
 rudimentary concept, and the act of mind by which it is 
 reached is conception.
 
 STEPS IN FORMING A CONCEPT. 283 
 
 Steps in Forming a Concept. Let us observe closely 
 the steps that led from the percept of the individual to the 
 concept of the class. The first step taken by the child 
 towards the formation of the concept consisted in fixing 
 his attention upon both dogs, or upon one dog and an 
 image of the other at the same time. Let us call this first 
 step comparison. The second consisted in withdrawing 
 his attention from the point of unlikeness color- and 
 fixing it upon their points of likeness. Precisely as an 
 essential step towards a knowledge of individuals consists 
 in withdrawing the attention from the objects as wholes 
 and fixing it upon individual parts or features, so an essen- 
 tial step towards a formation of concepts consists in with- 
 drawing the attention from the points in which the objects 
 compared are seen to be unlike, and fixing it upon those 
 in which they are seen to be like. Let us call this step 
 abstraction. The third step consisted in applying the 
 name "dog" to all other objects having the same charac- 
 teristics in making the name general by making it the 
 name of a class. Let us call $&v& generalization. These 
 three acts of the mind, then comparison, or the fixing of 
 the attention upon two or more objects at the same time ; 
 abstraction, or withdrawing it from some of their unlike- 
 nesses and putting it upon some of their likenesses ; gen- 
 eralization, or the making of a name general by making it 
 the name of all the individuals possessing similar qualities 
 are the three acts that constitute conception. 
 
 Concepts Liable to Change. We see at once that the 
 concept the product of conception is liable to constant 
 change. The only difference that the child first observes 
 between the two dogs is a difference in color. As he
 
 284 CONCEPTION. 
 
 observes them more and more carefully he notices more 
 and more differences the word "dog" means a smaller 
 and smaller number of attributes. And when he hears 
 the name applied to other animals he naturally puts them 
 in the same class, and the meaning of "dog" is correspond- 
 ingly reduced, although each separate act of abstraction 
 is followed by an act of generalization the extending 
 of the name so reduced in meaning to all objects having 
 the common characteristics he has observed. 
 
 But while a more careful and a wider observation of 
 dogs in this way reduces the concept, it may enlarge it in 
 another way. The child may notice points of resemblance 
 before unobserved. In this way his concept is made to 
 include more attributes the class-name comes to have a 
 richer meaning. 
 
 Definition of Concept. From the point of view we 
 have now reached we can see with some definiteness what 
 a concept is. It was said above that a concept is the 
 product of conception, and that conception is that act of 
 the mind which enables us to use general names intel- 
 ligently. This amounts to saying that we have a concept 
 of a class when we can use the class-name intelligently, 
 but as to what a concept is we are left entirely in the 
 dark. 
 
 If we carefully look into our minds when we hear or use 
 a general term which we understand, I think we shall find 
 either no mental picture whatever corresponding to it, or 
 else a mental picture with the feeling that a great many 
 other mental pictures woiild serve the purpose just as well. 
 When any one speaks of "dogs," for example, in my hear- 
 ing, I shall probably not form a mental picture of any dog
 
 VOLUNTARY AND INVOLUNTARY CONCEPTS. 285 
 
 whatever. As I hear the word, a feeling of familiarity 
 arises in my mind, a feeling that I know what is meant, 
 and this feeling, attaching itself to the word, constitutes 
 my entire conceptual consciousness, so far as that case is 
 concerned. But if I do form a picture of some particular 
 dog, I do it with the feeling that the picture of any other 
 dog would do as well. In that event, this picture with the 
 accompanying feeling constitutes my entire conceptual 
 consciousness. 
 
 Voluntary and Involuntary Concepts. The attention 
 that results in comparison and abstraction may be either 
 voluntary or involuntary, and therefore concepts may be 
 formed voluntarily or involuntarily. We know from our 
 study of attention that the concepts that a child forms in 
 the first years of his life will, for the most part, be formed 
 involuntarily because he is not able to give much voluntary 
 attention. 
 
 How to Make Inaccurate Concepts Accurate. Of 
 
 course, concepts formed in this by-rule-of -thumb manner 
 are indistinct and inaccurate. They are sure to contain 
 attributes that careful observation would exclude, and not 
 to include others that such observation would bring to 
 light. But we must remember that it is exactly this kind 
 of concepts that constitutes the furniture of a child's mind 
 when he first starts to school. To transform these indistinct 
 and inaccurate concepts into those that are distinct and 
 accurate to enlarge the number of concepts is evi- 
 dently an important part of education. 
 
 We shall be able to do this more intelligently if we 
 remember not only the manner in which they are formed,
 
 286 CONCEPTION. 
 
 but the condition upon which their formation depends. 
 That condition is the perception of resemblances between 
 different individuals. Until resemblances are perceived, 
 no concept of the resembling objects can be formed. That 
 is why a child finds it so hard to understand the meaning 
 of numbers. Four horses, four cats, four toys, etc., re- 
 semble each other in being four, but they seem to the 
 young child to have nothing in common and therefore 
 he does not know what you mean when you call them all 
 fours. Not till his mind is able to detach the fact common 
 to them all will he be able to understand you. 
 
 One of my students recently told me of a pupil to whom 
 he could not teach numbers. The child was eight years 
 old, and after persistent efforts to learn the significance of 
 numbers would say, when asked how many cows there 
 were in the field, seven or nine, for example, when she 
 should have said three. 
 
 The difficulty in such cases is that the child has not 
 formed the concept of numbers, the child has not seen 
 that three dogs resemble three blackboards in one par- 
 ticular in the particular of being three. 
 
 Until this resemblance is clearly seen, the attempt to 
 teach the names of numbers must be utterly unavailing. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . Make a careful summary of the last lesson. 
 
 2. Define class-image. What is meant by "externalized as 
 things"? 
 
 3. What is the first thing to be done in explaining conception, and 
 why? 
 
 4. How does a child come to know individual persons and things ? 
 
 5. State and explain the two directions in which the class-image 
 is modified.
 
 QUESTIONS. 287 
 
 6. State and explain the three processes involved in conception. 
 
 7. What is the difference between percept, image, and concept ? 
 
 8. In what two ways are concepts formed ? 
 
 9. What kind of concepts has a child when he first starts to 
 school ? 
 
 i o. Upon what condition does the formation of concepts depend ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. At what age do children generally begin to understand the 
 meaning of numbers ? 
 
 2. Why is it desirable to use a variety of objects sticks, straws, 
 grains of corn, etc. in teaching children to count? 
 
 3. Does this lesson throw any light on the question as to the 
 proper age for taking up the study of grammar ?
 
 LESSON XXXI. 
 
 CONCEPTION. 
 (Continued?) 
 
 WE saw in the last lesson that involuntary concepts are 
 almost certain to be indistinct and inaccurate, and that 
 when children first start to school, unless they have been 
 carefully instructed at home, nearly all their concepts are 
 of this kind. They have observed the objects they see 
 about them closely enough to learn their names, and talk 
 about them with a certain degree of intelligence. Because 
 they can apply their names correctly, teachers are in great 
 danger of thinking that the corresponding concepts are all 
 that they need to be. But that is a mistake. 
 
 Words do not Convey Thoughts. "While an external 
 object may be viewed by thousands in common," said 
 Professor S. S. Green, " the idea or image of it addresses 
 itself only to the individual consciousness. My idea or 
 image of it is mine alone the reward of careless observa- 
 tion, if imperfect ; of attentive, careful, and varied obser- 
 vation, if correct. Between mine and yours a great gulf 
 is fixed. No man can pass from mine to yours, or from 
 yours to mine. Neither in any proper sense of the term 
 can mine be conveyed to you. Words do not convey 
 thoughts ; they are not the vehicles of thoughts in any 
 
 288
 
 WHAT LANGUAGE DOES. 289 
 
 true sense of that term. A word is simply a com- 
 mon symbol which' each associates with his own idea 
 or image. 
 
 What Language Does. "Neither can I compare mine 
 with yours except through the mediation of external ob- 
 jects. And then how now do I know that they are alike ; 
 that a measure called a foot, for instance, seems as long to 
 you as to me ? My idea of a new object which you and I 
 observe together may be very imperfect. By it I may 
 attribute to the object what does not belong to it, take 
 from it what does, distort its form, or otherwise pervert it. 
 Suppose, now, at the time of observation we agree upon a 
 word as a sign or symbol for the object or the idea of it. 
 The object is withdrawn ; the idea only remains imper- 
 fect, in my case ; complete and vivid in yours. The sign 
 is employed. Does it bring back the original object ? By 
 no means. Does it convey my idea to your mind ? Nothing 
 of the kind ; you would be disgusted with the shapeless 
 image. Does it convey yours to me ? No ; I should be 
 delighted at the sight. What does it effect ? It becomes 
 the occasion for each to call up his own image. Does 
 each now contemplate the same thing ? What multitudes 
 of dissimilar images instantly spring up at the announce- 
 ment of the same symbol! dissimilar not because of 
 anything in the one source whence they are derived, but 
 because of either an inattentive and imperfect observation 
 of that source, or of some constitutional or habitual defect 
 in the use of the perceptive faculty." 
 
 How Inaccurate Concepts can be Made Accurate. 
 What, then, can we do to make these involuntary, and
 
 290 CONCEPTION. 
 
 therefore indistinct and inaccurate, concepts distinct 
 and accurate ? When a child starts to school, he attaches 
 a meaning to near, far, narrow, and many similar words, 
 but his concept of them is based entirely on his own 
 observations, and is therefore very inaccurate. He has 
 heard his parents talk about narrow ribbons, narrow boards, 
 and the like, and if his teacher, without further illustration, 
 tells him that an isthmus is a narrow neck of land, he will 
 be sure to misunderstand her. Shall we seek to make his 
 concepts accurate by definitions ? No ; for he can not 
 understand our definitions unless he has accurate concepts 
 corresponding to the words we use. We must get him to 
 follow the path that leads to accurate concepts ; we must 
 get him to compare a large enough variety of near and 
 narrow objects to enable him to apprehend the one com- 
 mon quality that such objects possess we must get him 
 to compare, abstract, and generalize. 
 
 Select Particulars Showing the Extreme Varieties. 
 But while it is necessary for us to bring the mind of our 
 pupil into contact with particulars in order to make his 
 concepts accurate, the very necessity of doing it shows the 
 need of exercising care as to the kind of particulars you 
 select. Why is a child's concept of narrow inaccurate? 
 Because he has considered only certain kinds of narrow 
 things narrow ribbons, narrow paths, narrow planks, and 
 the like. A young man told me that until he was eight 
 years old he thought all rivers were like the one near his 
 home. We see, therefore, the necessity of selecting par- 
 ticulars that show all the extreme varieties?- 
 
 1 See Bain's Education as a Science, p. 92.
 
 PROMINENCE TO THE MAIN IDEA. 291 
 
 Those that Give Prominence to the Main Idea. 
 
 Begin also with particulars that give prominence to the 
 main idea. If you are teaching your pupils what an island 
 is, call their attention first to an island far from the main- 
 land, in order that the characteristic quality of an island 
 may be brought out prominently. 
 
 Select your particulars also solely with reference to the 
 end in view. Do not select such as have an interest in 
 themselves, because they attract the attention to features 
 that are not included in the concept features, therefore, 
 that you wish the child to ignore. 
 
 Finally, stick to your purpose until it is accomplished. 
 Accumulate particular after particular until the desired 
 concept is formed, allowing yourself to be tempted into 
 no digression whatever. Of course we should pursue the 
 same method in developing new concepts. 
 
 Two Purposes Served by Language. But in most 
 cases our pupils have no names for the new concepts we 
 help them to form until we give them. When should we 
 give them ? Evidently not until they need them. Lan- 
 guage serves two purposes. In the first place, it enables 
 us to preserve the results of our own thinking. When we 
 have performed these processes of comparison, abstraction, 
 and generalization when we have formed a concept if 
 we did not give it a name, there would be nothing to fix 
 it in our minds. When we associate a name with the con- 
 cept, the name enables us to recall it without repeating 
 the processes of comparison, abstraction, and generaliza- 
 tion that in the first place enabled us to form it. But we 
 have no use for general names to assist us in fixing con- 
 cepts in our minds until we have formed the concepts of
 
 : ^2 CONCEPTION. 
 
 which they are names. When we consider die other use 
 of language, we are led to the same conclusion. The other 
 use of language, of course, is to communicate ideas. As 
 we have already seen, no such thing, strictly speaking, is 
 possible. What yon do when yon are said to communicate 
 ideas is to occasion your hearer or reader to recall ideas 
 and make combinations of ideas similar to those in your 
 own mind. This yon are able to do by using a sign or 
 symbol with which he has associated the same idea yon 
 hare in your mind. Evidently, then, language can not be 
 used to communicate ideas, or rather to occasion the re- 
 calling of ideas, until yon have yourself associated a sign 
 or symbol with the idea you wish recalled, and until your 
 hearer has formed the same association. 
 
 Hence the absurdity of teaching words without ideas. 
 Words are like paper money; their value depends on what 
 they stand for. As you would be none the richer for pos- 
 sessing Confederate money to the amount of a million of 
 dollars, so your pupils would be none the wiser for being 
 able to repeat book after book by heart unless the words 
 were the signs of ideas in their minds. Words smtkout 
 ideas are an irredeemable paper currency. 
 
 The Blind Use of Words the Fundamental Error. 
 It is the practical recognition of this truth that has revolu- 
 tionized the best schools of the country in the last quarter 
 of a century. Pestalozzi well called the blind use of words 
 in matters of instruction the "fundamental error/' He 
 was not the first educational reformer who insisted on 
 h, Montaigne, Comenins, Locke, Rousseau, had all in- 
 sisted on the same idea, but they were in advance of then- 
 time ; die world was not ready to listen to them. But in
 
 PESTALOZZI S REFORM. 293 
 
 1 806, after Prussia was thoroughly beaten by Napoleon at 
 the battle of Jena ; when her capital city was in the hands 
 of her conqueror, and she lay humiliated at his feet, it 
 occurred to some of her leading men that the regeneration 
 of the nation was to be sought in education. In this 
 way it happened that the ideas of Pestalozzi were em- 
 bodied in the schools of Germany, whence they have 
 gone into the schools of every civilized country in the 
 world. 1 
 
 Pestalozzi* S Reform. In what did the reform inau- 
 gurated by Pestalozzi consist ? /// the substitution of the 
 intelligent for the blind use of words. He reversed the 
 educational engine. 1 Before his time, teachers expected 
 their pupils to go from words to ideas ; he taught them to 
 go from ideas to words. He brought out the fact upon 
 which I have been insisting that words are utterly 
 powerless to create ideas ; that all they can do is to help 
 the pupil to recall and combine ideas already formed. 
 With Pestalozzi, therefore, and with those who have been 
 imbued with his theories, the important matter is the form- 
 ing of clear and definite ideas. 
 
 1 It is to me a very interesting fact that Pestalozzi went to Paris early 
 in this century in order to try to induce Napoleon to reform the educa- 
 tional system of France in accordance with his ideas. Napoleon said he 
 had no time to bother his head with questions of A B C. Prussia took 
 the time, and the result was that when Prussia and France met again on 
 the field of battle nearly seventy years later, the soldiers of Prussia, 
 educated in accordance with Pestalozzi's ideas, completely routed the armies 
 of France. 
 
 * When I wrote this sentence I did not know that Pestalozzi had 
 a similar illustration: "The public common-school coach . 
 simply be better horsed, ... it must be turned round and brought on an 
 entirely new road."
 
 294 CONCEPTION. 
 
 Object Lessons. But how can such ideas be formed ? 
 By comparison, abstraction, and generalization, and by 
 combining concepts so formed into complex concepts. 
 That is why Pestalozzian teachers have made so much use 
 of object lessons. Realizing that the only way the mind 
 can form ideas of objects is by comparing them, then ab- 
 stracting some quality, then generalizing, they have given 
 systematic courses of Object Lessons in order that they 
 might develop clear and definite concepts of objects in the 
 minds of their pupils. 
 
 But systematic object teaching is not the only, or indeed 
 the chief, way of teaching in harmony with this law of the 
 mind. Object teaching bringing the mind of the pupil 
 into direct contact with the object out-of-doors, if possible, 
 if not, in-doors will be the method chiefly employed by 
 intelligent primary teachers, because the great intellectual 
 need of young children is clear and definite concepts of 
 objects. Since all our concepts are either simple or com- 
 plex, and since, of course, simple concepts must precede 
 complex concepts, evidently the first step in education 
 should consist in furnishing the mind with a stock of 
 simple concepts. And since the mind of a child is for the 
 most part employed with objects, since his interests lead 
 him to direct his attention to the external world, plainly 
 the thing to be done is to give him simple concepts of 
 objects. But whatever the subject of thought, in order to 
 get its simple concepts the mind must take the same path, 
 pursue the same course, compare, abstract, generalize. 
 
 Objective Method of Teaching. Whatever the nature 
 of the facts studied, whether objects that can be brought 
 into the recitation room, or those that are physically in-
 
 QUESTIONS. 295 
 
 accessible, or facts that can not be correctly described as 
 objects, such as the facts of history, mental facts, mathe- 
 matical facts, the intelligent teacher will lead his pupils to 
 begin with an examination and comparison of them, then 
 go on to note their resemblances and differences, then to 
 make generalizations, unless he is sure that they have a 
 stock of perfectly definite, simple concepts, by the com- 
 bination of which they can form the complex concepts he 
 desires. Such a method of teaching has well been called 
 the Objective Method or Objective Teaching, since it 
 is an application of the method of teaching by Object 
 Lessons to every department of instruction. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Make a careful summary of the two preceding lessons. 
 
 2. What are the two uses of language ? 
 
 3. In what sense can we communicate ideas ? 
 
 4. How can we make indistinct and inaccurate concepts distinct 
 and accurate? 
 
 5. What kind of particulars should we select, and why? 
 
 6. In what did the reform inaugurated by Pestalozzi consist? 
 
 7. What is the difference between object and objective teaching? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. What is the difference between simple and complex concepts? 
 
 2. Strictly speaking, can we have simple concepts of objects ? 
 
 3. Mention as many distinct and accurate concepts that a child 
 of six is likely to have, as you can think of. 
 
 4. What differences would you expect to find between the con- 
 cepts of a child who has lived in the country, and those of a child 
 who has lived in a city ? 
 
 5. Talk with a child of six and endeavor to ascertain his concept 
 of sky, star, sun, moon, and other objects inaccessible to him, that he 
 hears mentioned in daily conversation.
 
 LESSON XXXII. 
 
 P 
 
 CONCEPTION. 
 
 (Continued.} 
 
 What the Objective Method Is. The great importance 
 of the Objective Method of teaching inclines me to think 
 that it will be well for us to spend a little more time in 
 making an effort to get a thorough comprehension of it 
 such a comprehension as will enable us to use it from day 
 to day. To this end, I venture to quote further from 
 Professor S. S. Green. " The Objective Method," he says, 
 "is that which takes into account the whole realm of 
 Nature and Art so far as the child has examined it, 
 assumes as known only what the child knows not 
 what the teacher knows and works from the well known 
 to the obscurely known, and so onward and upward until 
 the learner can enter the fields of science or abstract 
 thought. It is that which develops the abstract from the 
 concrete which develops the idea, then gives the term. 
 It is that which appeals to the. intelligence of the child, 
 and that through the senses until clear and vivid concepts 
 are formed, and then uses these concepts as something 
 real and vital. It is that which follows Nature's order 
 the thing, the concept, the word ; so that when this order 
 is reversed the word, the concept, the thing the 
 chain of connection shall not be broken. The word shall 
 instantly occasion the concept, and the concept shall be 
 
 296
 
 THE OBJECTIVE METHOD ILLUSTRATED. 297 
 
 accompanied with the firm conviction of a corresponding 
 external reality. It is that which insists upon something 
 besides mere empty verbal expressions in every school 
 exercise in other words, expression and thought in place 
 of expression and no thought. 
 
 " It is that which makes the school a place where the 
 child comes in contact with realities just such as appeal 
 to his common sense, as when he roamed at pleasure in 
 the fields, and not a place for irksome idleness. It is that 
 which relieves a child's task only by making it intelligible 
 and possible, not by taking the burden from him. It bids 
 him examine for himself, discriminate for himself, and 
 express for himself the teacher, the while, standing by 
 to give hints and suggestions, not to relieve the labor. In 
 short, it is that which addresses itself directly to the eye 
 external or internal, which summons to its aid things 
 present or things absent, things past or things to come, 
 and bids them yield the lessons which they infold which 
 deals with actual existence and not with empty dreams 
 a living realism and not a fossil dogmatism. 
 
 The Objective Method Illustrated. "It will aid any 
 teacher in correcting dogmatic tendencies by enlivening 
 his lessons and giving zest to his instructions. He will 
 draw from the heavens above and from the earth beneath, 
 or from the waters under the earth, from the world with- 
 out and the world within. He will not measure his lessons 
 by pages, nor progress by fluency of utterance. He will 
 dwell in living thought, surrounded by living thinkers, 
 leaving at every point the impress of an objective and a 
 subjective reality. To him, an exercise in geography will 
 not be a stupid verbatim recitation of descriptive para-
 
 298 CONCEPTION. 
 
 graphs, but a stretching out of the mental vision to see in 
 living picture, ocean and continent, mountain and valley, 
 river and lake, not on a level plain, but rounded up to con- 
 form to the curvature of a vast globe. The description of 
 a prairie on fire, by the aid of the imagination, will be 
 wrought up into a brilliant object lesson. A reading-lesson 
 descriptive of a thunder-storm on Mt. Washington will be 
 something more than a mere conformity to the rules of 
 the elocutionist. It will be accompanied by a concept 
 wrought into the child's mind, outstripped in grandeur 
 only by the scene itself. The mind's eye will see the old 
 mountain itself with its surroundings of gorge and cliff, of 
 wood-land and barren rock, of deep ravine and craggy 
 peak. It will see the majestic thunder-cloud moving up, 
 with its snow-white summits resting on wall as black as 
 midnight darkness. The ear will almost hear the peals of 
 muttering thunder as they reverberate from hill to hill." 
 
 This long extract is worth all the study we can find 
 time to put into it. The thorough comprehension and the 
 practical appreciation of it will revolutionize our methods 
 of teaching as completely as have been the methods of 
 teaching in the best schools of the country in the last 
 twenty-five years. But there are two or three sentences 
 in it that are especially worthy of attention. Professor 
 Green says that the Objective Method appeals to the intel- 
 ligence of the child through the senses until clear and 
 vivid concepts are formed, and tJien rises these concepts 
 as something real and vital. What does he mean ? 
 
 Real and Vital Concepts. I said in the last lesson 
 that whatever the nature of the facts studied, whether 
 objects that can be brought into the recitation room, such
 
 REAL AND VITAL CONCEPTS. 299 
 
 as coal, glass, water, and the like, or those that are phys- 
 ically inaccessible, such as are studied in geography or 
 astronomy, or facts which can not be correctly described 
 as objects, such as mental facts, historical facts, and the 
 like, the Objective Method of teaching leads the pupil to 
 begin with an examination of the facts ; instead of begin- 
 ning with inferences about the facts, it puts the pupil face 
 to face with the facts, and leads him to make his own in- 
 ferences. How is that possible when we are not dealing 
 with objects in the immediate presence of the pupil ? 
 
 When we are dealing with facts or objects that our 
 pupils can not observe for themselves, we must develop in 
 their minds, as nearly as we can, the same vivid ideas that 
 would result from a careful observation of the reality. 
 That is what Professor Green means in the sentence to 
 which I have called your attention. A concept so vivid as 
 to be something real and vital, is a concept that can be 
 used in forming complex concepts of things only a little 
 less vivid than would result from a first-hand observation 
 of the reality. He means the same thing when he says 
 that the Objective Method takes into account the whole 
 realm of Nature and Art so far as the child has examined 
 it ; assumes as known only what the child knows not 
 what the teacher knows. For so long as the teacher keeps 
 within the range of the child's knowledge, the teacher 
 presents simple concepts that the child can combine into 
 complex concepts, which enable him clearly and vividly to 
 realize facts and realities which are beyond the range of 
 his observation, but which he can use in comparing, ab- 
 stracting, and generalizing, as though he had seen them 
 for himself. 
 
 When Professor Green says that the Objective Method
 
 300 CONCEPTION. 
 
 addresses itself to the eye, external or internal, he means 
 to call attention to the fact that there are realities which 
 can not be cognized by the senses, such as mental facts, 
 but which, nevertheless, are to be studied in the same 
 way. 
 
 First the Reality and then the Play of the Mind 
 about the Reality. This lesson enables us to see that 
 one of the favorite doctrines of current pedagogy first 
 the idea, then the word is inaccurate. In primary in- 
 struction it does indeed state with great accuracy the 
 proper method of proceeding for the most part. But even 
 here the teacher must sometimes violate it. No primary 
 teacher can always confine himself to objects that have 
 sometimes been within the range of the pupil's observa- 
 tion. He must sometimes take concepts formed from 
 actual observation and build out of them concepts of real- 
 ities that the pupil has never seen. A more accurate 
 statement is, first the reality the thing you wish your 
 pupil to study then the play of the mind about the 
 reality. I use the somewhat indefinite phrase, " play of the 
 mind," because a more definite expression would not be 
 sufficiently comprehensive. In some cases, what you want 
 from your pupils is not primarily intellectual action, or 
 action of the knowing side of the mind at all. You wish 
 to bring their minds face to face with a certain reality 
 in order to excite the appropriate feelings. That, for 
 instance, would be your object in teaching such a reading- 
 lesson as the one described by Professor Green. The 
 same is true, for the most part, in all teaching of litera- 
 ture. You wish to get the thoughts and sentiments of 
 the piece in the minds of your pupils in order that they
 
 REALITY AND PLAY OF MIND ON REALITY. 30! 
 
 may have the proper feelings appreciation, admiration, 
 and the like. In such cases in the maxim : First the 
 reality, and then the play of the mind about the reality 
 "the play of the mind" means, for. the most part, a certain 
 activity of the emotional side of the mind. 
 
 But even when the play of the mind you seek to occa- 
 sion is a certain activity of the intellect, the kinds of intel- 
 lectual activity that the Objective Method aims at are so 
 different in different circumstances that any very definite 
 term will not accurately describe them. The play of the 
 mind desired may be the formation of a concept say the 
 concept of roundness. In that case the reality consists of 
 round objects. You call the attention of the child to 
 round objects in order that he may fix his attention upon 
 their shape, neglecting all their other qualities. Or the 
 play of the mind desired may be the making of a definition 
 say a definition of roundness. Here the reality is his 
 own concept of roundness ; the play of the mind desired is 
 the accurate description of that concept. Or the play 
 of the mind wanted may be a description of a process 
 say the formulation of a rule in arithmetic. Here there 
 are two sets of realities : (i) The conditions stated in the 
 problem. You bring them clearly before his mind, in 
 order that he may see for himself the path he must take 
 in order to reach the solution. (2) Having solved the 
 problem, you want him to describe the process, and this 
 is the second reality. You want him to fix his mind upon 
 it so attentively that he can give an accurate description 
 of it. 
 
 In the following example the play of the mind desired 
 is an inference from a fact. Your class learns from you 
 or a book so far as the Objective Method is concerned
 
 302 CONCEPTION. 
 
 it makes no difference which that the Constitution of 
 the United States forbade Congress to pass any law pro- 
 hibiting the importation of slaves prior to 1808, and then 
 that Congress passed such laws in 1 808 just as soon as 
 the Constitution made it possible for them to do it 
 unanimously. You ask your class what they infer from 
 that. They will be likely to say that it indicates that 
 Congress wanted to do all it could to limit slavery. With- 
 out saying whether they are mistaken or not, you go on 
 and tell them of the penalty Congress affixed to the viola- 
 tion of the law, and then call their attention to the fact 
 that, although the law was constantly violated and every- 
 body knew it, this penalty was very rarely inflicted, and 
 then ask what that signifies. Here the reality is an 
 historical fact, and the play of the mind about the reality 
 that you are seeking to occasion is an inference based on 
 the reality. 
 
 Why we may Fail to Apply the Objective Method. 
 
 If we have the clearest possible comprehension of the 
 Objective Method, we may faiHn our attempts to apply it, 
 because we try to bring the minds of our pupils into con- 
 tact with realities which they can not comprehend try, 
 in other words, to bring their minds into contact with 
 realities with which they can not be brought into contact 
 in their state of development. You could not give a blind 
 boy an object lesson based on the sense of sight. No 
 more can you intelligently use the Objective Method when 
 the realities are beyond the range of your pupil's com- 
 prehension. And here we see another reason for making 
 a careful study of our pupils : that we may learn what 
 realities they can comprehend.
 
 HERBARTIAN STEPS. 303 
 
 The Objective Method and the Herbartian Steps. - 
 
 You have doubtless noticed the resemblance between the 
 Objective Method, as I have here denned it, and the essen- 
 tial steps or stages in method as the Herbartians define 
 them. But while they make four and sometimes five steps, 
 I have noted but two. As will appear in the discussion 
 of apperception, I agree with them in thinking a stage of 
 "preparation" important. It is, as I shall endeavor to 
 show, a very helpful means of getting' " reality " before 
 the mind of the pupil. Dr. Garmo's term, "generaliza- 
 tion," to denote what I have called "play of the mind," 
 I object to, because it seems to imply that the action of 
 your pupil's mind which you wish to occasion is in all 
 cases intellectual, which is certainly not the case. I omit 
 their final stage, application, not because it is not im- 
 portant, when it can be taken, biit in many cases it can 
 not be taken. Can you apply a feeling of admiration or 
 appreciation as you can a definition, or a law or a principle 
 to the cases that come under it ? To illustrate : Take 
 any poem, say, Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard. 
 Why will you teach it ? Dp you want your pupils to infer 
 from it some law or general principle which they can apply 
 to their own observations and experiences ? Or do you 
 want the thoughts and feelings which the poet thought 
 and felt to pass through their minds, in order that they 
 may feel their beauty ? The latter, I am sure, and such a 
 feeling can not be applied. The very idea is absurd. 1 
 
 i It doubtless has not escaped the attention of my careful readers that 
 the Objective Method is based in part on laws of the mind which we have 
 not yet considered. Those laws, however, are so generally known that I 
 thought it would conduce to clearness to assume that they would be 
 known, and discuss the Objective Method in connection with object 
 teaching, which is but a single application of it.
 
 304 CONCEPTION. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Give a general description of the Objective Method. 
 
 2. What does Professor Green mean by "real and vital concepts " ? 
 
 3. Illustrate at length the formula, "first the reality, and then 
 the play of the mind about the reality." 
 
 4. For what formula is it proposed as a substitute, and why ? 
 
 5. Why may we fail in our attempts to apply the Objective 
 Method ? 
 
 6. Illustrate your answer from your own experience. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Is there any contradiction between the quotation made from 
 Professor Green in this lesson and the one in the last ? 
 
 2. Take any poem in your reading-books, and decide to what 
 extent the fourth of the Herbartian steps should be taken.
 
 LESSON XXXIII. 
 
 JUDGMENT. 
 
 Summary of Mental Steps up to the Formation of 
 Concepts. We have seen that our mental life begins 
 with undifferentiated sensations ; that the first step towards 
 knowledge consists in their gradual transformation into defi- 
 nite sensations; that while they are thus being made definite 
 they begin to be localized ; that before they are definitely 
 localized they begin to be gathered together in groups and 
 thought of as qualities of objects ; that in the first stage 
 of the perception of objects, only their prominent, salient 
 features those in which small classes resemble each 
 other are perceived, and that, therefore, individuals are 
 confused with each other, not perceived as individuals ; 
 that the state of mind that results from the confusion of 
 individuals the class-image gradually changes into two 
 very unlike things, a percept and a concept ; that, on the 
 one hand, it becomes a percept through the definite per- 
 ception of differences ; on the other, a concept through 
 the perception of resemblances between individuals per- 
 ceived to be individual. 
 
 Through the greater part of these experiences the mind 
 has been active in a way to which, so far, we have paid 
 no attention. When we study so complex a thing as the 
 human mind, we have to study its various phases or activi- 
 
 305
 
 306 JUDGMENT. 
 
 ties in succession ; but we must remember that what we 
 study successively exists contemporaneously. 
 
 Act of Judgment Illustrated. We shall get a clearer 
 idea of the activity of which I speak if we consider it first 
 in a simple and very common form. I see a man coming 
 down the street. At first I am uncertain whether it is 
 John Smith or his brother. But as I look at him closely 
 I notice a scar on his right cheek, just under his eye, and 
 then I remember that John Smith once received a severe 
 wound there. Immediately my mind passes from its state 
 of doubt into a state of certainty; I say, That man is 
 John Smith. 
 
 We may then denote the activity which we wish to 
 study in a similar manner to that in which we denoted the 
 activity of conception. As we said that conception is 
 the activity of the mind that enables us to use general 
 names intelligently, so we may say that judgment is the 
 activity of the mind which is expressed in propositions. 
 
 Judgment is Sometimes Made Possible by the Laws 
 of Association. Manifestly such an act of the mind is 
 rendered possible by the laws of association. Through the 
 laws of association I thought of the name of John Smith 
 and of his brother. But there is a wide difference between 
 the final act of my mind and the simple result of the laws 
 of association As long as my mental state is due entirely 
 to the laws of association, I have a percept and two images 
 in mind the percept of the man before me, and the 
 images of John Smith and his brother ; but when I see 
 the scar when I am no longer in doubt the percept 
 and the image of John Smith are fused into one, and,
 
 WHY THE JUDGMENT WAS CONSCIOUS. 307 
 
 expressing this, I say, This man is John Smith. Such a 
 mental act is called a judgment, and the words in which 
 we express it are called a proposition. 
 
 Why the Judgment was Conscious. If I had known 
 the man was John Smith as soon as I saw him, it is evi- 
 dent that there would have been no conscious assertion 
 expressed, or capable of being expressed, by the words, 
 That man is John Smith. There was a conscious asser- 
 tion, because there was, so to speak, a vacillation on the 
 part of my percept. It stood midway between my image 
 of John Smith and my image of his brother. Because I 
 was conscious of this vacillation, I was conscious of my 
 uncertainty, or rather in this vacillation my uncertainty 
 consisted. But if, as soon as I had seen John Smith, the 
 image of him as seen before had coalesced or fused with 
 my percept, the act would have been so automatic that I 
 should not have been conscious of it. 
 
 You can prove the truth of this by your own experience. 
 As you went to school this morning, did you say or think 
 to yourself, That is a tree, That is a house, That is a cow, 
 as you passed these several objects ? No, you merely 
 recognized them knew them directly and were con- 
 scious of no mental assertion whatever. But suppose the 
 cow had been wrapped in a buffalo robe, so as to look 
 unlike any animal you had ever seen before. At a first 
 glance you would not have recognized it. There would 
 have been the same vacillation between your percept and 
 the competing images that we have already observed in 
 my experience. But when you had seen through the dis- 
 guise, all but one of the competing images would have 
 vanished ; you would have performed a conscious mental
 
 308 JUDGMENT. 
 
 act that can only be described by a proposition That is 
 a cow. 
 
 When Conscious Judgments First Appear. We can 
 
 now see at what point in our mental life this conscious act 
 first appeared. We have seen that a complete act of 
 memory consists of retention, reproduction, recognition, 
 and localization, and that memory begins to develop before 
 imagination. Evidently, therefore, the mind recognizes 
 things before it forms images of them when they are 
 absent. Now this conscious act, which we have called 
 judgment, first appears when there is an object before the 
 mind of which it has a percept, and when the mind is 
 uncertain to which of two images to refer it. If a child, 
 familiar with oranges, sees a lemon for the first time, he 
 at once classes it as an orange because of their likeness 
 there is no conscious act of judgment. But if he is familiar 
 with both and the names of both, when he sees an orange 
 at a little distance, by the law of association by similarity 
 he may think of both an orange and a lemon the image 
 of both may arise in his mind and his percept may 
 vacillate between the two. When he gets nearer, and 
 notices the peculiar shape and color of the object, he says, 
 That is an orange. Evidently such a conscious act is not 
 possible until the imagination is so far developed that two 
 or more images arise in the mind in connection with the 
 same percept, which the mind is not able to refer to 
 either. 
 
 What Judgments Relate to. If we examine the three 
 judgments we have considered expressed in the proposi- 
 tions, That is John Smith, That is a cow, That is an
 
 DIFFERENT KINDS OF REALITY. 309 
 
 orange we shall see that they consist in the fusion or 
 coalescence of two states of consciousness a percept and 
 an image in the first, a percept and a concept in the 
 second and third. We need to note (i) that this fusion or 
 coalescence is the way our thoughts sometimes behave 
 when we pass from a state of doubt to a state of belief ; 
 (2) that although it is thoughts or states of consciousness 
 that coalesce, the belief does not relate to states of con- 
 sciousness, but to some kind of reality}- We do not say, 
 " My percept of that object fuses with my idea of John 
 Smith " ; nor, " My percept of that object fuses with my 
 concept of cow"; nor, "My percept of that object fuses 
 with my concept of orange." Though beliefs or judgments 
 are rendered possible by states of consciousness, and though 
 we may describe the states of consciousness in which judg- 
 ments or beliefs consist, judgments do not, as a rule, relate 
 to states of consciousness, but always to some kind of 
 reality. 
 
 Different Kinds of Reality Asserted. The reality 
 may be the reality of external nature, as when I say, That 
 is an orange. Or the reality of literature. Thousands of 
 books have been written upon the question of Hamlet's 
 insanity. If I say he was insane, my proposition expresses 
 a belief about a reality in literature. Or the reality of 
 mythology. A student of the classics, on the way to 
 recitation, is running over his lesson in his mind. He asks 
 himself, How did Minerva originate? He is in doubt. 
 Suddenly something brings the forgotten fact to his mind. 
 He remembers that she sprang from the head of Jupiter. 
 His memory is an assertion of a reality in mythology. Or 
 
 1 See Baldwin's Psychology, p. 286.
 
 3IO JUDGMENT. 
 
 it may be a reality of mental facts. I say, The concept 
 man and the concept rational animal are one and the same. 
 Here the reality asserted is a certain relation between 
 mental facts. 
 
 Nature of Act of Judgment. If we examine what 
 takes place in our minds when we perform the judgment 
 expressed by the proposition, Minerva sprang from the 
 head of Jove, we shall see that there is no such fusion or 
 coalescence between the thoughts that stand for the sub- 
 ject and predicate as takes place when we judge That is 
 John Smith. The reason plainly is because of the dif- 
 ference in the things asserted. In the last case we assert 
 identity. I see that the individual before me has all the 
 characteristics of John Smith, because he is John Smith. 
 In the first, we make an assertion about the origin of 
 Minerva ; we say not that she is, but that she sprang from, 
 the head of Jove. So when I say, I dreamed last night, 
 I make a still different assertion I assert a different 
 kind of fact. But no matter what we assert, we shall find, 
 in the period of doubt that preceded the assertion, no fixed 
 relations between the thoughts or concepts or states of 
 mind that represent the various parts of the proposition 
 that we finally assert. " I don't know whether that is 
 John Smith or his brother." As long as I am in un- 
 certainty, my percept tends now towards the image of 
 John Smith, now towards that of his brother, according to 
 my estimate of probabilities. When I pass from a state 
 of doubt to a state of certainty, my percept assumes a 
 definite and fixed relation towards the image of John Smith. 
 "I don't remember whether Minerva sprang from the head 
 of Jupiter or the head of Apollo." Here again there is
 
 QUESTIONS. 311 
 
 the same lack of definiteness and fixedness in the relations 
 between the thoughts expressed by Minerva, sprang from, 
 head of Jupiter, head of Apollo. But when I say: "I re- 
 member now she sprang from the head of Jupiter," this 
 lack of definiteness disappears ; they are transformed into 
 a new whole, or rather the first three are, each of them 
 sustaining a definite and fixed relation towards the rest 
 a relation which they resume whenever I think of them, 
 unless my belief changes. 
 
 Judgment Defined. We see, then, not only that a 
 judgment is that act of the mind which is expressed in a 
 proposition, but we see what the act is. It is the mental 
 assertion of some kind of reality the transformation or 
 relating of separate units or elements of thought into one 
 whole, in which each sustains definite and fixed relations 
 to the rest. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. State and illustrate what judgment is. 
 
 2. When do we make unconscious assertions, and why ? 
 
 3. Under what circumstances do these unconscious assertions 
 become conscious? 
 
 4. State and illustrate the various kinds of reality to which our 
 judgments refer. 
 
 5. State and illustrate the difference (i) between the mere associa- 
 tion of ideas and judgment, (2) between doubt and belief. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. State the various causes to which, in your opinion, judgments 
 are due. 
 
 2. Show that judgments could never have originated from the 
 mere association of ideas.
 
 LESSON XXXIV. 
 
 JUDGMENT. 
 (Continued?) 
 
 Difference between Association of Ideas and Judg- 
 ment. I said in the last lesson that there is a wide 
 difference between the mere association of ideas and judg- 
 ment. There is hardly an assertion in this book which it 
 is of greater importance for you to verify at great length 
 by a study of your own experience than this. Take 
 proposition after proposition and make clear to yourself 
 the difference between merely associating the subject and 
 predicate in your mind, and thinking them in the relation 
 of a judgment. 
 
 Suppose, for example, you should have a conversation 
 with a man from the moon, and should explain to him the 
 meaning of water, quench, and thirst, without showing 
 him the relations which these facts actually bear to each 
 other. When he thinks of the three at the same time, 
 they have only a mechanical connection in his mind the 
 same kind of connection that exists in the mind of a child 
 between the thought of a Chinaman and the thought of a 
 steam-engine when the child thinks of the two at the same, 
 time because he first saw them together. But when you 
 think of them together, you assert a real relation between 
 the facts water and thirst they are no longer mechani- 
 
 312
 
 ESSENCE OF AN ACT OF JUDGMENT. 313 
 
 cally juxtaposed, but parts of one logical whole, you think 
 them in the relation of a judgment. 
 
 Take also the proposition, " Napoleon conquered Europe." 
 Do you not see the difference between merely thinking 
 about "Napoleon," "conquered," and "Europe" at the 
 same time, and thinking the judgment, " Napoleon con- 
 quered Europe " ? The first might be possible through 
 the association of ideas alone. 
 
 Essence of an Act of Judgment. There is a conscious 
 mental assertion only when this act of logical relating for 
 some reason becomes a matter of attention. You say, 
 That is a cow, only after you have been in doubt as to 
 what animal you are looking at, or when you see it in some 
 unexpected place, as in a public park. Some psychologists 
 confine the term judgment to these conscious assertions of 
 the mind. Assertions made unconsciously they refuse to 
 call judgments, simply because they are made uncon- 
 sciously. But assuredly those psychologists take the 
 sounder position who hold that whenever thoughts assume 
 that fixed and definite relation we have seen they have in 
 a judgment, whenever they become parts of a logical 
 whole, there is an act of judgment, whether the act is 
 co'nscious or not. The essence of an act of judgment con- 
 sists in this logical relating of thoughts. To refuse to 
 call it a judgment because it takes place so rapidly and 
 unobtrusively as to escape the eye of consciousness is to 
 use language in a way that does not conduce to clearness 
 of thinking. 
 
 Implicit and Explicit Judgments. We may, indeed, 
 properly enough mark the distinction between them by
 
 314 JUDGMENT. 
 
 putting them into different classes. We may call the 
 judgments made unconsciously, implicit, and those made 
 consciously, explicit. Evidently the mind made implicit 
 judgments when it contemplated what we have called 
 class-images. Evidently, also, when the consciousness of 
 a class-image becomes the perception of an individual 
 thing, the judgment is still implicit. And as every modifi- 
 cation of a class-image in the direction of an individual 
 is an act of implicit judgment, so every modification of 
 a concept is an act of explicit judgment. If the first con- 
 cept that the child makes of a rose is not of a rose as a 
 rose, but as a plant, it is the result of an act of judgment 
 -This is a plant. When he modifies his concept so as 
 to make it include some of the attributes of a flower, 
 this modification is still the work of a judgment This 
 plant is a flower. When he modifies it still further to 
 make it include some of the attributes of roses, and then 
 of that variety of roses called La France, it is still the 
 work of judgment This flower is a rose, this rose is a 
 La France. In a word, the formation of a concept and 
 each step in its subsequent modification is the work of the 
 mind as judgment. 
 
 Different Kinds of Judgments. Explicit judgments 
 are usually classified according to the propositions used 
 to express them. "This man is a lawyer," a categorical 
 proposition, is said to express a categorical judgment. 
 "This man is either a lawyer or a doctor," a disjunctive 
 proposition, is said to express a disjunctive judgment. " If 
 this man is a lawyer, he is not a doctor," a conditional 
 proposition, is said to express a conditional judgment. But 
 we can not ascertain the character of a judgment by
 
 DIFFERENT KINDS OF JUDGMENTS. 315 
 
 examining the proposition used to express it. A categori- 
 cal judgment is one in which the predicate is asserted of 
 the stibject absolutely and unconditionally. Now, a cate- 
 gorical proposition may be the expression of that kind of 
 a judgment, and it may not be. One man says, The sun 
 will rise to-morrow morning, and his proposition expresses 
 a categorical judgment the possibility even that the sun 
 will not rise has scarcely occurred to him. An astronomer 
 says the same thing, but mentally qualifies his assertion 
 If nothing happens to the earth or the sun to prevent it. 
 A metaphysician mentally qualifies the same assertion 
 with the condition If things behave in the fiiture as 
 they have done in the past. 1 The last two use a categori- 
 cal proposition to express a conditional judgment. So, 
 likewise, a conditional proposition may be used to express 
 a categorical judgment. I say If he is a lawyer, he is 
 not a doctor. I mean, Men do not practice law and medi- 
 cine at the same time, which is a categorical judgment. 
 A child says, If I do not cry, mamma will give me candy 
 meaning simply that she will get the candy if she does 
 not cry, and therefore her conditional proposition expresses 
 a conditional judgment. 
 
 When we make a judgment about an entire class, our 
 judgment is universal ; when about a part of a class, it is 
 particular. All trees have branches, is a proposition ex- 
 pressing a judgment about the entire class of trees ; it is, 
 therefore, universal. Some trees are green in winter, is a 
 proposition expressing a judgment about a part of a class ; 
 it is, therefore, particular. Affirmative judgments are those 
 in which something is affirmed ; negative, those in which 
 something is denied. 
 
 1 See Lesson VI, also Baldwin's Psychology.
 
 316 JUDGMENT. 
 
 Judgments and Processes of Reasoning. The com- 
 mon opinion is that the beliefs (judgments) of men 
 excepting those that we have called necessary truths and 
 necessary beliefs are based on processes of reasoning. 
 Nothing can be more erroneous. 
 
 Children's Judgments. The credulity of children is 
 proverbial ; but if we get our facts at first hand, if we 
 study "the living, learning, playing child," we shall see 
 that he is quite as remarkable for incredulity as for credu- 
 lity. The explanation is simple : He tends to believe the 
 first suggestion that comes into his mind, no matter from 
 what source ; and since his belief is not the result of any 
 rational process, he can not be made to disbelieve it in any 
 rational way. Hence it happens that he is very credulous 
 in reference to any matter about which he has no ideas ; 
 but let the idea once get possession of his mind, and he is 
 quite as remarkable for incredulity as before for credulity. 
 A father was showing his little girl three years old 
 a cistern, and she was looking at it with great interest, 
 when she suddenly drew back, and cried out, in a frightened 
 tone, "Oh, papa, you are going to put me in there ! " and 
 no amount of persuasion would induce her to consent to 
 look at it again, although the father had never threatened 
 her with any kind of physical punishment, and there was 
 absolutely nothing in her experience which would serve 
 as a reason for her belief. The explanation is that the 
 idea occurred to her, and its mere presence in her mind 
 was a sufficient cause for belief. The same child got in a 
 passion of fear because her father playfully remarked, one 
 day when he had a caller, that she must stay with him to 
 keep the man from hurting him. Not anticipating any
 
 JUDGMENTS OF UNEDUCATED MEN. 
 
 317 
 
 such effect from his remark, he tried to soothe her by 
 assuring her that it was not so, that he was only playing; 
 but all to no purpose. She did not believe it because 
 he said it because of her trust in him and therefore 
 she would not disbelieve it when he said it was not so. 
 Study your "elementary text-book," and you will find 
 abundant illustrations of this truth : that belief about 
 everything that comes within the range of a child's ex- 
 perience antedates reason ; that what reason does, for the 
 most part, in the early years of a child's life, is to cause 
 him to abandon beliefs that are plainly at variance with 
 experience. 
 
 Judgments of Uneducated Men. If we study the 
 larger child the man with a child's mind an un- 
 educated man we shall have the same truth forced upon 
 us. If the beliefs of men were due to processes of reason- 
 ing, where they have not reasoned they would not believe. 
 But do we find it so ? Is it not true that the men who 
 have the most positive opinions on the largest variety of 
 subjects so far as they have ever heard of them are 
 precisely those who have the least right to them ? Socrates, 
 we remember, was counted the wisest man in Athens, 
 because he alone resisted his natural tendency to believe 
 in the absence of evidence ; he alone would not delude 
 himself with the conceit of knowledge without the reality; 
 and it would scarcely be too much to say that the intel- 
 lectual strength of men is in inverse proportion to the 
 number of things they are absolutely certain of. If this 
 be true, it is hard to overestimate the importance of the 
 work that education should do in this direction. How to 
 make men believe what is true, how to keep them from
 
 318 JUDGMENT. 
 
 believing what is false, how to keep them from having 
 opinions upon matters in reference to which their study 
 and investigation, or rather the lack of both, give them 
 no right to an opinion, is surely a question of the very 
 greatest importance. 1 Manifestly the way to answer it is 
 to bring up the rational side of the mind, to develop it and 
 train it so that it may be strong enough to cope with the 
 believing judging propensities of the mind. What 
 we can do in this direction, therefore, it will be proper for 
 us to discuss after we have made a study of reasoning. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Make a careful summary of the preceding lesson. 
 
 2. What is the essence of an act of judgment ? 
 
 3. State and illustrate the difference between explicit and implicit 
 judgments. 
 
 4. What are the first implicit judgments ? 
 
 5. How are concepts successively modified so as to include a 
 larger and larger number of attributes ? 
 
 1 I do not, of course, mean to intimate that we should have no opinions 
 about matters that we have not personally investigated. We take and 
 ought to take the opinion of some men about law, and others about 
 medicine, and others about particular sciences, and so on. But we should 
 clearly realize the difference between holding an opinion on trust and hold- 
 ing it as the result of our own investigations. If we do, we shall see we 
 have no right to an opinion at all on trust where there is a decided 
 difference of opinion among specialists. If all I know about the appear- 
 ance of a thing I have learned from the reports of two men, and if these 
 are directly opposed to each other on all the essential points, then plainly 
 I know nothing about it. In like manner, if I take my conclusions from 
 specialists as I must to be reasonable, when I have not studied the 
 matter then, when they disagree widely, there is no reason why I should 
 take the opinion of one rather than another. I have, therefore, in such a 
 case, no right to an opinion.
 
 QUESTIONS. 319 
 
 6. State the difference between categorical, disjunctive and hypo- 
 thetical judgments. 
 
 7. Show that we can not tell the character of a judgment by 
 examining the proposition used to express it. 
 
 8. Show that children often believe things because of the mere 
 presence of ideas in their minds. 
 
 9. What are necessary truths and necessary beliefs ? 
 
 10. In what did the wisdom of Socrates consist? 
 
 1 1 . What lesson does this teach us ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Why is it important for us to believe what is true ? 
 
 2. Have you observed beliefs in children that you could only 
 explain by the theory stated in the text ? 
 
 3. Have you observed a difference in children in this respect? 
 Do some appear more ready to believe without reason than others ?
 
 LESSON XXXV. 
 
 REASONING. 
 
 Hoffding on Children's Judgments. We saw in the 
 last lesson that children tend to believe the first suggestion 
 that comes into their minds, no matter from what source. 
 Some psychologists go much farther than this. Hoffding, 
 for instance, says : " It must be with dawning conscious- 
 ness as with dream consciousness all that offers is at 
 first taken for current coin," 1 since to such a conscious- 
 ness there is no ground for a distinction between the 
 world of possibility and the world of fact and reality. 
 This argument is that, from the very nature of the mind, 
 it follows that, in the beginning of its mental life, a child 
 must accept its ideas or suggestions as true. 2 But we 
 
 1 Outlines of Psychology, p. 131. 
 
 2 That acute critic and profound student of human nature, Walter 
 Bagehot, wrote a suggestive paragraph on this point : " In true meta- 
 physics, I believe that, contrary to common opinion, unbelief far oftener 
 needs a reason and requires an effort than belief. Naturally, and if man 
 were made according to the pattern of the logicians, he would say : ' When 
 I see a valid argument, I will believe ; and till I see such argument, I will 
 not believe.' But, in fact, every idea vividly before us soon appears to us 
 to be true, unless we keep our perceptions of the arguments which prove 
 it untrue, and voluntarily coerce our minds to remember its falsehood. 
 ' All clear ideas are true,' was for ages a philosophical maxim ; and though 
 no maxim can be more unsound, none can be more exactly conformable to 
 
 320
 
 CHILDREN S REASONING. 321 
 
 
 
 have here nothing to do with such a priori reasoning. 
 Our business is to make a patient study of facts ; to care- 
 fully observe children, in order that we may learn whether 
 there is a tendency to believe as true every suggestion 
 that enters their minds ; and if so, to what extent. But 
 here, as always, we must guard against the propensity 
 which, as we have seen, is such an active principle of 
 human nature the disposition to let our beliefs run 
 clean out of sight of the facts upon which they are based, 
 and assert a universal conclusion upon the basis of a few 
 observations of two or three children. Knowing the influ- 
 ence of feeling on belief, one would naturally suppose that 
 children would be more likely to show the tendency in 
 reference to matters that excite their feelings. So far as 
 my observations go, they tend to confirm the truth of this 
 supposition. We should expect also that children of a 
 decidedly emotional temperament would be more likely to 
 show it than those of a quieter temperament. But plainly 
 we have no right to an opinion on this point until we have 
 observed a large number of children, or until we have care- 
 fully studied the results of competent observers. 
 
 Children's Reasoning. But the child very soon begins 
 to form judgments that we can put into quite a different 
 class. When he sees a train coming, and runs into the 
 house because he is afraid of it, his judgment, The train 
 will hurt me if I stay in the yard, is the result of the 
 
 ordinary human nature. The child resolutely accepts every idea which 
 passes through its brain as true ; it has no distinct conception of an idea 
 which is strong, bright, and permanent, but which is false too. The mere 
 presentation of an idea, unless we are careful about it, or unless there is 
 within some unusual resistance, makes us believe it."
 
 322 REASONING. 
 
 mere presence of the suggestion in his mind. The sugges- 
 tion, of course, is due to the association of ideas ; the 
 belief, however, is due, as we have just seen, to quite 
 another cause. But when a child, who was burned by his 
 soup yesterday, refuses to touch it to-day because he sees it 
 smoking, his judgment, The soup will burn me if I put it in 
 my mouth, is probably not to be explained in the same way. 
 He does, of course, think of the possible burn because of the 
 association of ideas, but he believes it because of a process 
 that might be roughly described as follows : Yesterday 's 
 soup smoked and burned me ; therefore to-day s soup, which 
 smokes also, will burn me. He makes a judgment about 
 past experience the ground of a judgment about future 
 experience ; he goes from the known to the unknown. 
 A little boy once made the direct assertion, " Snow is 
 sugar ; for snow is white, and so is sugar." 1 Because snow 
 and sugar are both white, he concluded that they are the 
 same. 
 
 Reasoning Defined. Let us see if we can find any 
 judgment to serve as a basis or reason for the first one. 
 Does the child think, The train will hurt me if I stay in 
 the yard because other trains have hurt me there ? or 
 because mamma told me it would hurt me if I stayed 
 there? No. He does not base the judgment on any- 
 thing ; he assumes it. He does not go from the known 
 to the unknown ; he assumes the unknown. His belief is 
 not mediate reached through other beliefs but imme- 
 diate. Now, the process of basing judgments on judg- 
 ments of reaching beliefs through beliefs is called 
 reasoning. Reasoning, then, is the act of going from the 
 
 1 See Hoff ding's Psychology, p. 132.
 
 REASONING OR ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 323 
 
 known to the unknown through other beliefs, of basing 
 judgments on judgments, reaching beliefs through beliefs. 
 
 Difficulty of Determining whether an Action is the 
 Result of Reasoning or of the Association of Ideas. 
 
 It is often impossible to tell whether a given action has 
 been performed as the result of a mere process of associa- 
 tion, or of a genuine reasoning process. Take the case 
 just mentioned of the child who refuses to touch smoking 
 soup because he was burned yesterday. I have explained 
 his action as due to a reasoning process. But is any other 
 explanation possible ? Certainly. It is altogether possible 
 that the perception of the smoking soup to-day makes him 
 think of the soup of yesterday, and that, of the pain he 
 experienced, and that this thought of the pain causes him 
 to refrain from eating soup to-day all through merely 
 mechanical association. If his mental processes were as 
 I described them above, then he reasoned. But if his 
 action is due to mechanical association alone, we can not 
 describe his mental processes as consisting of a succession 
 of related judgments, btit of unrelated percepts and ideas 
 which would have been judgments if they had be en brought 
 into certain definite relations with each other. "Yester- 
 day's soup smoked and burned ; therefore to-day's soup, 
 which smokes also, will burn me" -may be regarded as 
 a rough description of his mental process if he reasons. 
 But if he does not reason, percept of to-day's soup, thought 
 of yesterday's soup, yesterday's pain these one after the 
 other without being brought into judgments may be the 
 elements in consciousness which precede his action. Even 
 if he believes that the soup will burn him to-day because 
 of his experience yesterday, but not because he sees any
 
 324 REASONING. 
 
 connection between the two, his mental process is not a 
 case of reasoning. If he says, Smoking soup burned me 
 yesterday, smoking soup will burn me to-day if these 
 two propositions accurately and completely express his 
 conscious processes, he does not reason. But if he says 
 or thinks, Smoking soup burned me yesterday, therefore it 
 will burn me to-day, the action of his mind exhibits the 
 distinctive characteristics of the reasoning process : he 
 believes one proposition on the ground of another ; he 
 makes one proposition a reason for believing another. 
 
 A Story about Ants. Such considerations put us in 
 a position to form an intelligent opinion of some of the 
 wonderful stories reported of animal intelligence. Take 
 the story about ants which Romanes reports on the author- 
 ity of an English clergyman : " I have noticed in one of 
 my formicaria a subterranean cemetery, where I have seen 
 some ants burying their dead by placing earth above them. 
 One ant was evidently much affected, and tried to exhume 
 the bodies ; but the united exertions of the yellow sextons 
 were more than sufficient for the disconsolate mourner." 
 
 The Action Explained. In considering such an in- 
 cident the first thing to do is to disentangle the facts from 
 the snarl of inferences. What then are the facts, the 
 observed facts ? That the body of a dead ant was covered 
 up, and that another ant tried to prevent it. Is there 
 anything about this which requires to be explained as a 
 reasoning process ? By no means. Ants have a habit of 
 removing anything that is in their way, and this habit 
 which is probably entirely due to instinct explains their 
 so-called burial of the dead ant. As to the grief of the
 
 A STORY OF A DOG. 325 
 
 disconsolate mourner how did the observer happen to 
 learn the signs of grief in ants ? I know when you are 
 grieved. Why ? Because you manifest it in the same way 
 that I do by the expression of your countenance, and so 
 on. Did the countenance of the ant take on a sorrowful 
 expression ? Plainly the grief of the ant was an inference, 
 and a gratuitous one at that. Granted that the ant at- 
 tempted to prevent the so-called burial : did he do it 
 because he was grieved or for some cause with which we 
 are entirely unacquainted ? The latter is surely the more 
 reasonable supposition. 
 
 A Story of a Dog. Professor James reports an incident 
 of animal intelligence which would at once be set down by 
 careless observers as a case of reasoning. "A friend of 
 the writer gave as a proof of the almost human intelligence 
 of his dog that he took him one day down to his boat on 
 the shore, but found the boat full of dirt and water. He 
 remembered that the sponge was up at the house a third 
 of a mile distant; but, disliking to go back himself, he 
 made various gestures of wiping out the boat, and so forth, 
 saying to his terrier, 'Sponge, sponge, go fetch the sponge.' 
 But he had little expectation of a result since the dog had 
 never received the slightest training with the boat or the 
 sponge. Nevertheless, off he trotted to the house, and, to 
 his owner's great surprise and admiration, brought the 
 sponge in his jaws." 
 
 The Action Explained. Was this a case of reasoning? 
 Not necessarily. The probabilities are that the owner's 
 gestures and language suggested the sponge by mechanical 
 association. If, as Professor James says, he had been un-
 
 326 REASONING. 
 
 able to find the sponge, and had brought back a mop or a 
 dipper it would have been clearly a case of reasoning. His 
 actions in that case would have been due to a perception 
 of the relation between the dipper and the use to which it 
 was to be put to the perception of the fact that for his 
 owner's purpose dipper and sponge were the same thing. 
 Such a perception could not be explained as consisting of 
 mechanical association. 
 
 Reasoning from Particular to Particular. If we 
 
 examine our minds to see the course they take in the 
 reasonings of every-day life, we shall find that we generally 
 reason from some particular fact to some particular fact. 
 You are going to take a train at half-past eleven, and you 
 must give yourself ten minutes to go to the depot. You 
 look at your watch ; the hands indicate that it is fifteen 
 minutes past eleven. Remembering that it was five min- 
 utes slow yesterday, you hurry off at once. Why ? Because 
 you believe it is twenty minutes past eleven, since your 
 watch was five minutes slow yesterday. Because your watch 
 was five minutes slow yesterday, you believe it is five min- 
 utes slow to-day ; you reason from a particular fact to a 
 particular fact. As you go out of the gate you notice 
 threatening clouds in the west. You go back and get your 
 umbrella, as you think it is likely to rain. From the par- 
 ticular judgment, The clouds look tints and so, you go 
 directly to the particular judgment. It is likely to rain. 
 
 Deductive and Inductive Reasoning. But suppose, 
 in either case, I dispute your inference ; suppose I say 
 that it is only fifteen minutes past eleven, or that it is not 
 likely to rain. You seek to justify your conclusion ; you
 
 QUESTIONS. 327 
 
 fix your attention on the considerations that seem to you to 
 prove it. You say, I have found by long experience that 
 my watch is reliable, and since it was five minutes slow 
 yesterday, I know that it is five minutes slow to-day. Or, 
 you point to such and such characteristics of the clouds, 
 and say, Clouds that look that way threaten rain. In the 
 first case you seek to justify your inference from your con- 
 clusion by appealing to particular facts ; in the second, by 
 appealing to a universal proposition. Now that illustrates 
 the difference between deductive and inductive reasoning. 
 In either deductive or inductive reasoning the mind may 
 start from particular facts. But when the mind retraces 
 its steps in order to find the proof of its conclusion, it may 
 find it either in a general proposition, or in particular 
 propositions. In the first case the reasoning is called 
 deductive ; in the second, inductive. Deductive and in- 
 ductive reasoning, then, are not so much two kinds of 
 reasoning as two modes of proof two modes of exhibit- 
 ing to ourselves or others the grounds of inferences already 
 drawn. When we prove a conclusion by a general pro- 
 position, the reasoning is called deductive ; when by par- 
 ticular propositions, it is called inductive. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What is a priori reasoning f 
 
 2. By what a priori reasoning does H off ding seek to show that 
 children first hold all their ideas to be true ? 
 
 3. Illustrate the difference between such judgments and reasoning. 
 
 4. What is the difference between inference and proof? 
 
 5. State and define and illustrate the two kinds of proof.
 
 328 REASONING. 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. A child heard a servant say that a certain musical instrument 
 was a harp ; her mother afterwards told her that it was an harmonica, 
 but she insisted that it was a harp. Explain it. 
 
 2. Give examples of the various cases of reasoning that have 
 come under your observation during the day, and determine whether 
 they are inductive or deductive.
 
 LESSON XXXVI. 
 
 REASONING. 
 (Continued.") 
 
 Difference between Inductive and Deductive Reason- 
 ing. We saw in the last lesson that the difference 
 between deductive and inductive reasoning is rather a 
 difference in the method of proving conclusions already 
 inferred than a difference in the method of inferring them ; 
 that when we appeal to a universal proposition to prove 
 our conclusion, the reasoning is called deductive ; induc- 
 tive when we appeal to one or more particular propo- 
 sitions. 
 
 Why does the same Method of Reasoning sometimes 
 Lead to a True, and sometimes to a False Conclusion ? 
 - But how is that I am able to find the proof of a fact in 
 particular propositions ? When you say, " I know that 
 this is a Marechal Niel because I know that all the roses 
 that have the characteristics of this rose are Marechal 
 Niels," if I disagree with you it is because I do not believe 
 your premise. Admitting your premise, that all the roses 
 that have the characteristics of this rose are Mare"chal 
 Niels, I must admit your conclusion. But when the child 
 argues, " Sugar is white, snow is white, therefore snow is 
 sugar," I admit his premises, but deny his conclusion. But 
 when he argues, " This and that and the other unsupported 
 
 329
 
 33O REASONING. 
 
 bodies have fallen ; this stone is an unsupported body, 
 therefore it will fall," I admit the truth of his conclusion. 
 In both cases he argues from true particular propositions. 
 We have to inquire (i) how he came to choose those par- 
 ticulars in order to prove his conclusion ; and (2) how it 
 happened that apparently the same method led, in one 
 case, to a false conclusion ; in the other, to a true one. 
 
 We Base Affirmative Conclusions on Likenesses, but 
 never on Differences. I think we shall see how to 
 answer the first question if we ask ourselves if a child can 
 believe that snow is sugar because the one is white and 
 the other sweet. We know that he can not. We know 
 that children human beings in general reason from 
 observed likenesses to unobserved likenesses, but never 
 front differences to affirmative conclusions. We know 
 that the child argued that snow is sugar because snow 
 and sugar resemble each other in being white because 
 they belong to the class of white objects. The proof, in a 
 word, that snow is sugar he found in the fact that both 
 are white. He took one white thing sugar to be the 
 type of all white things judged implicitly that all white 
 things are sugar. He argued, then, that snow is sugar 
 because it is one of the class of white things, all of which 
 are sugar. 
 
 He selects the particular propositions, This unsupported 
 object has fallen, That unsupported object has fallen, etc., 
 to prove that the stone will fall if it is unsupported, for 
 the same reason. Can he believe that a stone will fall 
 because a robin flies, and a geranium bears blossoms, and 
 a maple puts forth leaves in spring-time ? Certainly not. 
 These facts and the one he believes do not resemble each
 
 LIKENESSES, BUT NOT DIFFERENCES. 331 
 
 other are not members of a class. He believes that an 
 unsupported stone will fall, on the ground that this and 
 that and the other body have done so, because he takes 
 this, that, and the other body as types of the class. He 
 has made a class of unsupported bodies, and has judged 
 that those he has observed are examples of the entire class. 
 When, then, he reasons that the stone will fall if unsup- 
 ported, because this and that and the other body have done 
 so, he really reasons that it will do so because all unsup- 
 ported bodies will do so. We see, then, that there is 
 no essential difference between inductive and deductive 
 reasoning. When I prove a particular fact by other par- 
 ticular facts, I do so because they are members of the 
 same class as the one about which I am trying to prove 
 something, and because I have already, explicitly or im- 
 plicitly, reached a conclusion about the entire class. When 
 a universal judgment is consciously appealed to, the reason- 
 ing is deductive ; when it is unconsciously appealed to, it 
 is said to be inductive ; and that is the sole difference 
 between deductive and inductive reasoning. I say, " I am 
 going to die sometime." You ask, "Why?" "Because 
 all men are mortal." There I appeal consciously to a 
 universal proposition. If I reply, " Because this and that 
 and the other man have died," I certainly appeal, per- 
 haps unconsciously, to a universal proposition, since it is 
 only because this and that and the other individual and I 
 are members of the same class that what has happened 
 to them throws any light on what is likely to happen 
 to me. 
 
 We see, then, that we appeal to certain particular 
 propositions to prove a fact, because they are included in 
 a universal judgment that we have made.
 
 332 REASONING. 
 
 All Inductive Reasoning is Deductive Reasoning. 
 Now, we see why the same kind of reasoning sometimes 
 leads to a true conclusion and sometimes to one that is 
 false. All inductive reasoning is deductive reasoning. 
 When the universal implied by the particulars is false, the 
 conclusion based upon it will be false. All white things 
 are not sugar. Hence it is a mistake to say that snow is 
 sugar because it is white. All unsupported bodies will 
 fall. Hence I am justified in concluding that this stone 
 will, because this and that and the other bodies have done 
 so when I take them to be types of the class. 
 
 The proof in deductive reasoning may always be thrown 
 into the following form called a syllogism : 
 
 (Major premise?) All white things are sugar ; 
 
 {Minor premise?) Snow is a white thing ; 
 
 (Conclusion?) Therefore, snow is sugar. 
 
 Why Able Men so often Differ. We see here very 
 plainly again that an act of reasoning may be altogether 
 correct as a process, and yet lead to a false conclusion, 
 because one of the premises is incorrect. That enables us 
 to see why able men so often differ with each other ; they 
 start from different premises. Take the great differences 
 you find between men in matters of politics, science 
 every department of thought and you will often find 
 that they rest at bottom on the fact that those who differ 
 started from different major premises. A physicist or 
 physiologist, for example, is very likely to believe that 
 nothing can cause a change in matter but matter. If so, 
 he is almost certain to be a materialist, since the changes 
 in the body that we usually attribute to consciousness, he 
 will attribute to the brain. His reasoning may be thrown
 
 WHY ABLE MEN SO OFTEN DIFFER. 333 
 
 into the form of a syllogism : Nothing can cause a change 
 in matter but matter. But consciousness is not matter. 
 Therefore, consciousness can not cause a change in the 
 body. A psychologist, on the other hand, may assume 
 that nothing can have the characteristics that the mind 
 has without having some of the attributes of a substance. 
 If so, he will not be a materialist. His reasoning may be 
 thrown into the following syllogism : Nothing can have 
 such characteristics as the mind has without being a sub- 
 stance. But the mind can not be a substance if mental 
 facts are mere phenomena of the brain. Therefore mental 
 facts are not mere phenomena of the brain. One man 
 says, " All measures that tend to promote home production 
 are beneficial. A protective tariff does this ; therefore a 
 protective tariff is beneficial." Another says, "Undoubt- 
 edly your conclusion is true if your major premise is, but 
 I deny your major premise. I hold that what promotes 
 the interests of individuals promotes the interests of na- 
 tions." Here we have an argument leading to a conclu- 
 sion that directly contradicts the first, because it starts 
 from a major premise that contradicts the major premise 
 of the first argument. Compare the argument of Ex- 
 Speaker Reed in the North American Revieiv, January, 
 1890, with the reply of Senator Carlisle the former 
 defending the rules of the House of Representatives that 
 had just been adopted by the Republican majority, the 
 latter severely criticising them. Reed reasons substantially 
 as follows: Whatever rules are necessary to enable the 
 House to transact business are wise ; the rules adopted by 
 the Republicans are necessary to enable the House to 
 transact business; therefore they are wise. Carlisle, on 
 the other hand, reasons substantially as follows : Whatever
 
 334 REASONING. 
 
 rules enable the Speaker of the House to exercise arbitrary 
 and tyrannical power are unwise ; the rules just adopted 
 by the House enable the Speaker to exercise arbitrary and 
 tyrannical power ; therefore they are unwise. 
 
 Why Able Men Start from Different Premises. If 
 
 you ask how it happens that able men so often start from 
 different premises, you ask a difficult question. One reason 
 undoubtedly is, that the imagination, as we have seen, is 
 the sole audience chamber in which Reality gets a hear- 
 ing. If for any reason we do not image certain aspects or 
 phases of Reality, they are for us as though they did not 
 exist. The great majority of the facts to which the phys- 
 icist habitually gives his attention are so well explained by 
 his assumption, that it comes finally to seem like an abso- 
 lute certainty precisely as we are inclined to think it 
 absolutely certain that things will behave in the future as 
 they have done in the past. When he occasionally thinks 
 of facts that seem to contradict his assumption, he refuses 
 to believe them. That which is absolutely true can not 
 be contradicted, however it may seem to be. Sometimes 
 we refuse, more or less consciously, to consider but one 
 side of a question. If we are interested in supporting a 
 particular conclusion, it often happens that we will not 
 look at the other side Members of debating societies 
 generally come to believe that their side is right, whatever 
 they thought at the start. They are looking for arguments 
 on but one side, and they see no others. The Republicans 
 in the House all voted for the Republican rules in 1 889, 
 and the Democrats against them. A few of both parties, 
 perhaps, voted dishonestly, but I have no doubt that the 
 great majority voted honestly. The Republicans were
 
 ABLE MEN AND DIFFERENT PREMISES. 335 
 
 interested in having their rules adopted, and looked for 
 arguments to justify their course ; the Democrats were 
 interested in having them rejected, and looked for argu- 
 ments to justify their course. 
 
 History abounds in illustrations of the effects of interest 
 on belief. 
 
 Every one who has studied the history of Calhoun 
 knows that a great change began to take place in his 
 opinions about the year 1825. Before that time he had 
 been an advocate of a protective tariff, a national bank, 
 internal improvements, a liberal interpretation of the Con- 
 stitution. About 1825 his opinions on all these questions 
 began to undergo a change, and in a few years he had 
 completely wheeled about. The explanation is, that about 
 this time he had begun to see that slavery was the control- 
 ling interest of the South, and that the only constitutional 
 weapon with which it could be defended was the doctrine 
 of State rights. Under the influence of this perception 
 the only facts that he permitted himself to realize (imagine) 
 were those that supported his favorite doctrine. 
 
 Andrew Jackson's history abounds in illustrations of this 
 kind. No man could be his friend and disagree with him. 
 He was not only a very sincere patriot, but he was sure 
 he was right, and therefore that everybody who disagreed 
 with him was wrong. What seemed true to him seemed 
 so self-evident that he could not understand how a man 
 could honestly and honorably differ with him. His feel- 
 ings not only determined his beliefs, but gave them such 
 intensity that he could not conceive that any one could 
 really doubt them. 
 
 The history of men like Alexander Hamilton and Jeffer- 
 son gives still different illustrations of this truth. Because
 
 336 REASONING. 
 
 of natural differences between the things they liked, they 
 inclined to start from different premises in their political 
 reasonings. Jefferson naturally trusted the people and 
 believed in their political capacity, because of his optimistic 
 temperament and because of his hatred of any form of 
 government which made tyranny possible. Without Jeffer- 
 son's optimism and Jefferson's hatred of a form of govern- 
 ment which made tyranny possible, and with a strong love 
 of order and stability, Hamilton as naturally believed in 
 a strong government one strong enough to hold the 
 people in check as did Jefferson in a weak one, because 
 he did not think the people needed much governmental 
 restraint. 
 
 Two Things to be Done in Training the Reasoning 
 Powers of Pupils. From this point of view, it is clear 
 that there are two things to be done in the training of the 
 reasoning powers of our pupils: (i) To train them to 
 reason correctly from given premises ; and (2) to give 
 them such training as will diminish, as much as possible, 
 the influence of personal considerations in selecting the 
 premises upon which they base their reasoning to give 
 them such a love of truth that it will be able to neutralize 
 the influence of all merely personal preferences and wishes. 
 What we want to believe has a great influence on what we 
 do believe, but it has no influence in determining what 
 is true. 
 
 Calhoun and the South wanted to believe that slavery 
 was right, and they did ; but that did not make it right. 
 In order to defend slavery, they wanted to believe that the 
 doctrine of State rights was true, and they did ; but that did 
 not make it true. Their attempt to put it in practice, how-
 
 REASONING POWERS OF PUPILS. 337 
 
 ever resulted in one of the most fearful civil wars of which 
 history gives us any account. Yet all that can be done, 
 it seems to me, in the way of diminishing the influence of 
 personal considerations in determining premises, is, in the 
 first place, to point out the great danger of such influences. 
 We have considered examples of such influences from 
 history ; you need not go to history to find them in abun- 
 dance. Incidents at school, if you are on the lookout for 
 them, will give you ample opportunity to bring home to 
 your pupils the fact that there is great danger of their 
 being led to believe this or that, not because a candid sur- 
 vey of all the facts shows that it is most probable, but 
 because they wish to believe it. In the second place, we 
 can set them a good example. I do not know how United 
 States history can be taught profitably except by constant 
 reference to current events. Mr. Freeman well says that 
 "History is past politics and politics present history"; 
 and the teacher of United States history should constantly 
 try to illustrate "past politics" by "present politics," and 
 show how " present politics " are the necessary results of 
 the politics of the past. But to do this profitably to do 
 it without exciting the prejudices of his pupils he must 
 make it very evident that in all the questions he discusses, 
 his supreme desire is to get at the truth. And he must 
 really have that desire. In these and all other questions 
 he should not only allow, but encourage, the utmost free- 
 dom of discussion. And when his pupils have pointed out 
 an error in his reasonings which they are sure to do 
 sometimes he should acknowledge it instantly, and thus 
 sho w his supreme deference to truth.
 
 REASONING. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Show clearly the difference between inductive and deductive 
 reasoning. 
 
 2. What is a syllogism ? 
 
 3. Illustrate how it happens that able men so often differ with 
 each other. 
 
 4. Illustrate the influence of interest on belief. 
 
 5. What can you do to train the reasoning powers of your pupils ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Give illustrations from your own observations of the influence 
 of interest on belief. 
 
 2. Can you illustrate the same influence from current politics ?
 
 LESSON XXXVII. 
 
 REASONING. 
 (Continued.) 
 
 WE have seen that the only difference between inductive 
 and deductive reasoning is that the one is based on an 
 implicit and the other on an explicit universal. 
 
 We will now consider that kind of deductive reasoning 
 that is usually called induction, and to avoid circumlocution 
 I will give it the name that it usually bears. 
 
 Relation of Induction to Generalization. Induction 
 very closely resembles generalization. Generalization, you 
 remember, is the last of the three processes involved in the 
 formation of a concept. A child directs his attention to 
 two or more objects at the same time comparison and 
 after noting their like and unlike qualities, fixes his atten- 
 tion upon the former abstraction and thinks of them 
 as the characteristics of a class generalization. But 
 there is no going from the known to the unknown, and, 
 consequently, no reasoning in the act of generalization. 
 When a child, noting that two or more objects resembling 
 each other in a number of particulars, and all used to sit 
 in, thinks of the qualities in which they resemble each 
 other as the characteristics of a class extends, in other 
 words, the name given to them to all objects possessing 
 similar qualities he does not make an inference about 
 
 339
 
 340 REASONING. 
 
 the objects he does not see. He does not say that since 
 these chairs have this and that and the other quality, 
 therefore all chairs have them that would be an induc- 
 tion. But he says, Since these objects are alike in cer- 
 tain respects, I will make a class of them, and if there 
 are any other objects that possess the same qualities, I 
 will put them in the same class call them by the same 
 name. 
 
 Of course a child does not definitely think any such 
 thoughts. We know that there is a great difference be- 
 tween what the mind really does and what it is conscious 
 of doing. And when a child sees two objects and calls 
 them dogs thus putting them in the same class and 
 when seeing another dog, he says, "dog" putting it in 
 the same class it is plain that his mind has taken the 
 course I have endeavored to describe. This is generaliza- 
 tion. But there is a wide difference between generalization 
 (making a class of objects) and induction (concluding be- 
 cause one or more members of a class have such and such 
 characteristics, therefore they all have it ; or because some- 
 thing is true of one or more members of a class, therefore 
 it will be true of all). In the one case, we are merely 
 arranging objects into classes ; in the other, we reason 
 from one or more members of the class to the entire 
 class. 
 
 From this it is evident that induction presupposes gen- 
 eralization. If in induction I reason from one or more 
 members of a class to the whole class, I must have the 
 idea of the class already formed in my mind. 
 
 We have already seen that inductive reasoning assumes 
 that certain individuals are types of an entire class. Let 
 us consider this further.
 
 INDUCTIVE REASONING. 34 1 
 
 Two Assumptions Underlying All Inductive Reason- 
 ing. When I reason that all crows are black because all 
 the crows I have seen were black, I assume that the crows 
 I have seen are types or examples of the entire class. This 
 assumption that we can regard a greater or less number 
 of individuals as types of a class clearly underlies a large 
 part of our inductions, and we never can be quite sure in 
 any case that we have a right to make it. Of course, it 
 is more likely to be true when the instances which we 
 assume to represent the entire class are very numerous. 
 But, no matter how many cases we have examined, it will 
 always be possible that some member of the class that we 
 have not seen may be unlike those we have seen. 
 
 An hypothesis is an assumption that we make to account 
 for facts. Our minds are of such a nature that we feel a 
 certain uneasiness when we know a fact that we can not 
 explain, and therefore it is natural for us to try to make 
 some hypothesis or supposition to account for any fact we 
 know. And since, of course, we do not make improbable 
 suppositions to account for facts, or rather since we do not 
 make suppositions that seem to us improbable, we are 
 inclined to regard them as true, so long as they explain 
 the facts. And this is another assumption upon which the 
 greater part, if not all, of our inductions are based. 
 
 This assumption can not be so definitely stated as the 
 preceding one. It would not be correct to state it in this 
 form: An hypothesis which explains facts is true. For 
 one great reason why people differ from each other so 
 widely in their opinions is that of two hypotheses that 
 equally well explain the facts, one seems true to one, and 
 the other to another. A dozen men on a jury listen to the 
 same evidence, and part of them base one conclusion upon
 
 342 REASONING. 
 
 it, and the rest of them another. This is only another way 
 of saying that one hypothesis that explains the facts seems 
 probable to a part of them, and another to the rest of them. 
 I do not believe that a more definite account of this assump- 
 tion can be given than the following : We are naturally 
 disposed to believe any hypothesis that does not seem im- 
 probable in itself, which explains facts for which we have, 
 apart from it, no explanation. 
 
 Law of Parsimony. It is evident that of two hypoth- 
 eses, one which assumes a cause certainly known to exist, 
 to account for the facts, and one which assumes an un- 
 known cause, the former is the more reasonable. That is 
 the reason why we are bound to account for the actions of 
 animals by means of the hypothesis of mechanical associa- 
 tion, if we can. Animals certainly do associate things 
 mechanically. If, then, we can explain their actions by 
 means of laws known to be in operation, we have no right 
 to assume any other. That is the meaning of the law 
 of Parsimony: Causes must not be multiplied beyond 
 necessity. 
 
 Need of Care in Making Inductions. Since we can 
 not rid our inductions of an element of uncertainty, no 
 matter how cautiously and carefully we frame them, it is 
 evident that, unless we make them as cautiously and as 
 carefully as we can, they are likely to have very little 
 value. " I do not like Jews," says one. Get him to tell 
 you why, and you will find that the reason is that he has 
 known two or three Jews who were not pleasant persons. 
 " It does not do boys any good to go to college," says 
 another. "John Jones went to college, and he does not
 
 NEED OF CARE IN MAKING INDUCTIONS. 343 
 
 know any more than Will Smith does " as though an 
 examination of the case of John Jones entitled one to an 
 opinion of the whole class of students that attend college. 
 " I do not like people with little noses," says a third ; 
 " they are always mean and stingy." The foundation for 
 which is that he has seen one or two people with little 
 noses who were stingy. Doubtless the great majority of 
 the popular superstitions, "Thirteen is an unlucky num- 
 ber," "Bad luck to begin anything on Friday," etc., origi- 
 nated the same way. The best thing we can do to guard 
 our pupils against such inductions is so constantly to call 
 their attention to the necessity of founding their beliefs 
 upon a wide basis of facts that they may get a realization 
 of the danger of doing anything else. 
 
 How to Impress this upon Pupils. Of course, the 
 first condition of doing this successfully is that you have a 
 vivid appreciation of the dangers of such inductions your- 
 self. If you have such an appreciation, by encouraging 
 them to express their opinions upon the various matters 
 that come up, you can do something to develop such an 
 appreciation in them. And when you are trying to develop 
 it, first of all in your own mind, and then in the minds of 
 your pupils, remember that the greatest foe of progress is 
 Ignorance, and that the strongest friends of Ignorance 
 are the dogmatism and prejudice to which careless and 
 slovenly reasoning naturally give birth. 
 
 We have seen that when we appeal to a general pro- 
 position to prove our conclusion, the reasoning is called 
 deductive; when we appeal to particular facts, inductive. 
 When we try to prove one fact by appealing to another 
 which is only valid to prove the one fact we have inferred,
 
 344 REASONING. 
 
 so far as it has any validity, we are said to reason by 
 analogy. 
 
 Argument from Analogy. Argument from analogy is 
 denned by Jevons as " direct inductive inference from one 
 fact to any similar fact." The same author gives the fol- 
 lowing example : " Thus the planet Mars possesses an 
 atmosphere, with clouds and mist closely resembling our 
 own ; it has seas, distinguished from the land by a greenish 
 color, and polar regions covered with snow. The red color 
 of the planet seems to be due to the atmosphere, like the 
 red color of our sunrises and sunsets. So much is similar 
 in the surface of Mars and the surface of the earth, that 
 we readily argue there must be inhabitants there as here. 
 All that we can certainly say, however, is that if the cir- 
 cumstances be really similar, and similar germs of life 
 have been created there as here? there must be inhabitants. 
 The fact that many circumstances are similar, increases 
 the probability. But between the earth and the sun, the 
 analogy is of a much fainter character. We speak, indeed, 
 of the sun's atmosphere being subject to storms and filled 
 with clouds, but these clouds are heated probably beyond 
 the temperature of our hottest furnaces ; if they produce 
 rain, it must resemble melted iron ; and the sun-spots are 
 perturbations of so tremendous a size and character that 
 the earth, together with half a dozen of the other planets, 
 could readily be swallowed up in one of them. It is plain, 
 then, that there is little or no analogy between the sun and 
 the earth, and we can, therefore, with difficulty form a 
 conception of anything going on in a sun or a star." 
 
 1 Italics are mine.
 
 QUESTIONS. 345 
 
 Uncertainty of it. This kind of reasoning is more 
 uncertain than inductive reasoning. Jevons speaks of the 
 similarity between so many circumstances in the case of 
 Mars and the earth as increasing the probability that the 
 former is inhabited because the latter is, and at the same 
 time says that " all we can certainly say is, that if the cir- 
 cumstances be really similar, and similar germs of life 
 have been created there as here, there must be inhab- 
 itants." Need I say that in the very nature of the case 
 we neither know nor can know anything about whether 
 " similar germs of life have been created there as here," 
 and that our knowledge of the extent to which circum- 
 stances are similar is so limited that any talk of probability 
 is absolutely without foundation ? All that the facts war- 
 rant us in saying is, that for aught we know Mars may be 
 inhabited, but he who claims to be able to say that it 
 probably is, lays claim to a larger amount of knowledge 
 than falls to the lot of mortals. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What is the difference between induction and generalization? 
 
 2. Show that induction presupposes generalization. 
 
 3. State and illustrate the two assumptions that underlie nearly 
 all our inductions. 
 
 4. What is the law of Parsimony ? 
 
 5. Define and illustrate argument from analogy. 
 
 6. What seems to you its logical value? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTION. 
 
 Give illustrations from your own experience of over-hasty induc- 
 tions.
 
 LESSON XXXVIII. 
 
 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 WE have studied sensation, perception, memory, imagi- 
 nation, conception, judgment, and reasoning all modes 
 of intellectual activity. If we pass them in rapid review 
 before us, we shall see that in all of them the mind is 
 discriminating or noting differences, and assimilating or 
 noting resemblances. 
 
 Assimilation and Discrimination in Sensation. What 
 is it to know a sensation ? It is to discriminate or mentally 
 separate it from all other sensations. A child has many 
 sensations which it does not know ; many sensations which 
 it confuses with other sensations. But a sensation con- 
 fused with other sensations is a sensation put in the wrong 
 class precisely as, if one were sorting out ribbons of 
 different colors, the confusing of purple with blue would 
 lead to the mixing of these two kinds of ribbons. 
 
 In Perception. So likewise in perception. The first 
 act of the mind in perceiving is to separate mentally the 
 thing perceived from everything else. You remember 
 that, in the lessons on Attention, we saw that what we 
 perceive depends upon what we attend to. The mind in 
 attention simply singles out the thing attended to from 
 
 346
 
 IN MEMORY. 347 
 
 everything else, and that is discrimination. A dog may 
 stand before you, but if, through preoccupation or from 
 any other cause, you do not discriminate it from the objects 
 about it, you do not know it. Discrimination, however, is 
 not all that is essential to knowledge. As a matter of fact, 
 when we discriminate we usually know, because assimila- 
 tion, or the act of putting a thing discriminated into a 
 class, usually follows so closely upon the act of discrimina- 
 tion that the two seem to be identical. But they are not. 
 To pick a piece of blue ribbon out of a scrap bag is one 
 thing ; to put it in a box with other blue ribbons is an 
 entirely different thing. A child, seeing a dog, may dis- 
 criminate it from all other objects, but until he perceives 
 its resemblance to something else, until he assimilates it, 
 he does not know it. 
 
 In Memory. So likewise with memory. What is it 
 to have a perfect recollection of any event ? It is to have 
 a definite knowledge both of the event and of the time 
 when it happened. If the event is indistinct, it is not 
 perfectly remembered, and its indistinctness is due to 
 imperfect discrimination and assimilation. If we are in 
 any doubt as to the time, it is because we do not perfectly 
 discriminate it from other times, and do not perfectly 
 assimilate it to other times. The event happened, say, at 
 eleven o'clock yesterday, but I am uncertain whether it 
 was eleven or twelve, or whether it happened yesterday or 
 the day before that is, I do not discriminate the hour 
 and the day when it happened from all others. 
 
 Possibly you think that in this latter case there is no 
 assimilation. Inasmuch as in any one place there is but 
 one point of time known as eleven o'clock, April 26, 1890,
 
 348 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 the question may be asked as to how it is possible for 
 assimilation of such a fact to take place. The question 
 can be readily answered if we bear in mind that the state 
 of mind corresponding to the fact " eleven o'clock yester- 
 day " is a complex concept. Before a child can know 
 what is meant by "eleven o'clock yesterday," he must 
 know the meaning of "yesterday" and "eleven o'clock," 
 and this is possible only by discrimination and assimilation. 
 But with the concepts of these two facts as elements, all 
 that is necessary to the formation of the complex concept 
 expressed by the phrase " eleven o'clock yesterday " is a 
 synthesis of the two through the exercise of the construc- 
 tive imagination. The product of constructive imagination 
 is, of course, an image ; but as we can take the image of 
 red color to illustrate the concept color, so we can take 
 any image to illustrate the corresponding concept. 
 
 In Conception. We have seen that the three processes 
 involved in conception are comparison putting the atten- 
 tion on two or more objects at the same time, discriminating 
 them from all other objects ; abstraction withdrawing 
 the attention from their unlike qualities and fixing it upon 
 their resemblances, assimilating them ; and generalization 
 extending their name to all other objects having similar 
 qualities a further act of assimilation. 
 
 In order to judge, we must know the subject and predi- 
 cate ; and to do this, we must discriminate and assimilate 
 them. I can not judge that oak trees lose their leaves in 
 autumn unless I know what oak trees are, and what is 
 meant by " losing their leaves in autumn." But to know 
 oak trees, I must discriminate them from all other trees, 
 and assimilate them to each other. The state of mind
 
 IN REASONING. 
 
 349 
 
 corresponding to the fact losing their leaves in autumn " 
 is a complex concept ; and to know its elements, as we 
 have seen, we must assimilate and discriminate them. 
 
 In Reasoning. The same is true of reasoning. When 
 I say that John is a mortal, since he is a man and all men 
 are mortal, my conclusion is the result of two acts of 
 assimilation the assimilation of John to the class men, 
 and of these to the class mortals. 
 
 When I say that, since this and that and the other 
 unsupported body have fallen, therefore all unsupported 
 bodies will, I have perceived, in the first place, the resem- 
 blance between the unsupported bodies I have seen I 
 have assimilated them ; and, in the second place, I have 
 assimilated them to all other unsupported bodies. 
 
 Why so Many Kinds of Assimilation and Discrimina- 
 tion? Since all knowing consists to so great an extent of 
 discrimination and assimilation, how can there be so many 
 different kinds of knowing ? Becatise tliere arc so many 
 different facts to be discriminated and assimilated. The 
 discrimination and assimilation of single sensations leads 
 to the knowledge of sensations ; of groups of sensations to 
 the perception of objects which result in percepts ; of per- 
 cepts, to concepts ; of concepts, to judgments ; of judgments, 
 to conclusions. 
 
 But does not this answer leave the really difficult point 
 unexplained ? Granting that there are different kinds of 
 facts to be discriminated and assimilated, it is easy to see 
 that they would issue in different products. But how is 
 it that there are different kinds of facts? That is the 
 really difficult question.
 
 350 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 How do Psychical Facts Come to Be? It may seem 
 that to ask that question is like asking why there are so 
 many different kinds of facts to be known in the universe. 
 But it is not. Granted that there are things without, how 
 do we come to know them ? How does that which is there 
 somehow get to be represented here in my mind ? Granted 
 also that I have lived have laughed and wept and hoped 
 and feared have played a part as a conscious being in 
 this strange world. But the past is gone, and with it its 
 experiences. How is it that I am able to recollect them ? 
 How is it that that which was there and then somehow 
 gets to be represented here and now in my mind? Granted 
 also that there are real relations existing between real 
 things, how am I able to assert them ? That which gets 
 into my mind is mental. How is the merely mental 
 transformed into the non-mental, the subjective into the 
 objective ? 
 
 These, you know, are some of the questions we have 
 been trying to answer, and they help us to realize what we 
 are constantly in danger of forgetting that our science, 
 instead of having merely to discover the laws that govern 
 ready-made facts, is to a large extent a science of pro- 
 cesses a science that has to discover how its facts come 
 to be. 
 
 Sensations. How, then, do the facts that we know as 
 sensations come to exist ? In the way already described 
 characterless, indefinite, and undifferentiated experiences, 
 but with latent likenesses and differences, begin to exist. 
 How these were transformed into definite sensations has 
 already been explained. Here we have only to note that 
 this transformation was the mind's own work; that what
 
 PERCEPTS. 351 
 
 we call a sensation is, in a sense, the product of the mind's 
 own activity that this activity converted latent likenesses 
 and differences into a consciousness of likeness and dif- 
 ference between definite sensations. 
 
 Percepts. How do percepts come to exist ? By the 
 mind's own activity. Sensations existing with certain 
 spatial meanings come to be known as having those mean- 
 ings. Through the native power of the mind to interpret 
 the brogue of its sensations, to understand the meaning of 
 their local signs, the mind arranges its sensations in space, 
 and the result is a percept. 
 
 Recollections. -- How do recollections of past ex- 
 periences come to exist ? Again by the mind's own 
 -activity. Our experiences succeed each other in time. 
 That we know that they do results from the activity of our 
 minds ; 'the mind retrojects some of its images into the 
 past through its interpretation of their temporal signs, 
 precisely as it projects some of its sensations into space 
 through its interpretation of their local signs. 
 
 Judgments. How do judgments come to exist ? 
 Through the mind's power to apprehend the various rela- 
 tions of reality. Day precedes night. The mind appre- 
 hends it, and the result is a judgment. Hamilton origi- 
 nated the financial policy of the Federalist party. The 
 mind apprehends it, and the result is a judgment. Judg- 
 ments are the products of the mind's power to apprehend 
 the relations of reality. 
 
 In each of these cases we have to note that it was no 
 mere differentiation and classification of ready-made facts
 
 352 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 that brought about the result. The mind makes its sen- 
 sations, makes its percepts, makes its concepts, makes its 
 judgments, and so makes possible their discrimination and 
 assimilation. 
 
 Relation of Attention to these Mental Activities. 
 
 We know also the condition of these various activities. 
 But it is only a condition. The activity of attention is no 
 more to be confused with what results from it than light 
 is to be confused with seeing. The best eye can not see 
 in the dark, and the finest mind can not elaborate its pro- 
 ducts without attention; but light is not seeing, and atten- 
 tion is not \ko. fact-making activity of the mind. 
 
 Apperception Defined. We see also in what this 
 activity consists. It is a relating activity in sensation, 
 bringing characterless experiences into relations of like- 
 ness and difference; in perception, combining sensations 
 into relations of space ; in memory, combining the various 
 elements of experience into relations of time; in concep- 
 tion, combining percepts into relations of likeness; in 
 judgment, combining percepts and concepts into the 
 various relations of reality apprehended by the mind. If, 
 then, we adopt the name usually applied to this activity 
 and call it apperception, we see that apperception is that 
 combining activity of the mind that brings order and 
 harmony into our mental life by transforming the con- 
 sciousness of related facts " into the consciousness of 
 relations'^ 
 
 Apperception, then of which, indeed, discrimination 
 and assimilation are modes is the most fundamental 
 
 1 See Baldwin's Psychology, p. 65.
 
 QUESTIONS. 353 
 
 form of mental activity. It makes sensations, and then, 
 in the form of discrimination, separates those that are un- 
 like and assimilates those that are alike ; it discovers the 
 space relations of sensations, transforms them into attri- 
 butes of bodies, and then discriminates the objects so 
 perceived that are unlike, and assimilates those that are 
 alike; it discerns the time relations of mental facts, and 
 transforms a succession of experiences into a conscious- 
 ness of succession ; it combines percepts into concepts, 
 percepts and concepts into judgments, judgments into 
 conclusions. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Define and illustrate discrimination and assimilation. 
 
 2. Analyze sensation, perception, memory, conception, judgment, 
 and reasoning, in order to show that in ail of them discrimination 
 and assimilation take place. 
 
 3. Psychology is to a large extent a science of processes what 
 is the meaning of that ? 
 
 4. How does it happen that discrimination and assimilation issue 
 in such different products? 
 
 5. Define apperception. 
 
 6. What does apperception do in sensation, perception, memory, 
 constructive imagination, conception, judgment, and reasoning ? 
 
 7. What is the condition of apperception? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. A child saw a donkey and called it a horse; a rabbit, and 
 called it a cat; a fox, and called it a dog. Why? 
 
 2. Report similar facts from your own observation.
 
 LESSON XXXIX. 
 
 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 (Continued?) 
 
 IN the last lesson we saw that perception, memory, 
 imagination, conception, judging, and reasoning are pro- 
 cesses of discrimination and assimilation, exercised on dif- 
 ferent materials, and that these different materials are 
 themselves products of a more fundamental mode of 
 mental activity, of which discrimination and assimilation 
 are forms. 
 
 How can Knowledge Best be Imparted ? This being 
 so, the question, How can I impart knowledge most 
 clearly ? may be put in another form. From the point of 
 view we have now reached, we are able to see that the 
 question is, How can I supply the conditions of appercep- 
 tion ? or, to put it more definitely, though not so accurately, 
 How can I enable my pupils to discriminate and assimilate 
 most perfectly ? 
 
 This activity of apperception in any of its forms consists 
 in the establishment of relation. If, then, a new fact is 
 to be apperceived, it must be brought into relations with 
 old facts. The unknown must be related to the known. 
 Now, in order that this may take place in order that 
 this relation may be established it is not enough that 
 
 354
 
 HOW CAN KNOWLEDGE BE IMPARTED? 355 
 
 the mind have in the storehouse of memory concepts to 
 which the known may be related ; these concepts must be 
 brought out ; and the more completely the whole of one's 
 past experience is ransacked for related concepts, the more 
 perfect will be the apperception or assimilation. 
 
 We can easily illustrate the truth of this by appealing 
 to our own experiences. Sometimes we read books to 
 "inform our minds," or "to get general information"; 
 sometimes to get definite answers to definite questions. 
 Which do you find the more profitable reading ? The last, 
 I am sure ; and the reason is that your whole knowledge 
 of the subject to which your question relates is brought to 
 bear on everything you find related to it. Your "apper- 
 ceiving conceptions . . . stand, like armed soldiers, within 
 the strongholds of consciousness, ready to pounce upon " 
 everything they can bring within their grasp. Read the 
 same book with no question in mind, and those apperceiv- 
 ing conceptions are like soldiers asleep, who let their enemy 
 go by them undisturbed. You get illustrations of the same 
 truth when you re-read a book after a considerable interval. 
 If the book is thoughtful worth re-reading you are 
 almost sure to find some suggestive or striking observation 
 that escaped your notice the first time. I have read 
 Bagehot's Physics and Politics many times, but I do not 
 remember that my attention was ever attracted to the para- 
 graph quoted some pages back until I read it a couple of 
 weeks ago. When I read it before, I had "no receptivity" 
 for it, either because I had no related concepts in my 
 mind, or because they were in the background of con- 
 sciousness, and therefore, like soldiers asleep, unservice- 
 able. But when I read it two weeks ago, my attention 
 had been attracted to the subject of the paragraph by my
 
 356 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 own observations, and so my mind pounced upon it with 
 great eagerness. 
 
 When you select a subject for an essay that interests 
 you very much, three of four months before the time you 
 expect to write it, your experience gives you illustrations 
 of the same truth. You scarcely read a single newspaper, 
 or a magazine article, or a novel, that does not suggest 
 some idea on your subject. You suddenly become aware 
 that there is a universe of thought as well as a material 
 universe, and you find your subject " opening out " into it 
 in every direction. Without that subject in mind, your 
 reading would have had no such result ; your apperceiving 
 conceptions would have been asleep ; their natural prey 
 would have escaped. 
 
 Preparation. These illustrations enable us to realize 
 that the Herbartians are right when they say that "the 
 first great function of the teacher is to prepare the way 
 for the rapid and efficient assimilation of that knowledge 
 which the study hour or tJie recitation period is to fur- 
 nish" and that this function consists in causing "to appear 
 in the consciousness " of the pupil " those interpreting 
 ideas" that enable him to assimilate what is presented 
 to him. 1 
 
 Before the "presentation," then, of the matter of the 
 lesson, the pupil's mind should be prepared for it. We 
 have seen already how much the value of our reading is 
 increased when we read to get a definite answer to a defi- 
 nite question. Let us bear this in mind when we are 
 preparing the minds of our pupils for the apperception of 
 
 1 De Garmo's Essentials of Method, p. 32.
 
 PRESENTATION. 
 
 357 
 
 concepts. Let us put a definite question before them 
 which it is the aim of the lesson to answer. 
 
 When we have stated clearly the object of the lesson, 
 we can help him still further by helping him to array in 
 consciousness his apperceiving conceptions, so that he will 
 be most fully prepared to accomplish the work. We see 
 the connection between this lesson and some preceding 
 lesson. We should recall the previous lesson to his mind ; 
 we should help him to bring out of the storehouse of his 
 memory everything that bears on the lesson. We can, of 
 course, do this most successfully by asking questions, 
 because in this way we secure from him the greatest 
 amount of mental activity. 1 
 
 Presentation. When in such ways the mind of the 
 pupil is prepared for the efficient assimilation of the lesson, 
 the matter of the lesson should be presented the teacher, 
 of course, requiring as much of this to be done by the 
 pupil as possible. This subject of presentation has already 
 been discussed in connection with the Objective Method. 
 Presentation is nothing but a process of getting " reality " 
 before the mind of the pupil. 
 
 Play of the Mind. But we have seen that the " play 
 of the mind " there spoken of is, for the most part, a form 
 of apperception or assimilation. If we bear this in mind, 
 we can better supply the conditions for it by bringing his 
 mind into contact with those phases of the reality in ques- 
 tion that present the most salient features for the activity 
 of assimilation. 
 
 i See on this whole subject the book already cited
 
 358 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 Pedagogical Principle. To this end, it will be useful 
 for us to remember the following principle : " Objects and 
 wholes of any kind are more easily discriminated and 
 assimilated apperceived in general than qualities 
 and parts'' The ground of it is evident. Objects and 
 wholes of any kind differ from each other in more marked 
 and striking ways than qualities and parts, and conse- 
 quently can be more easily discriminated. Since they 
 also resemble each other in a greater number of particu- 
 lars, they can be more easily assimilated. 
 
 Proof. You can prove its truth by appealing to your 
 own experience. Which do you recognize more easily and 
 certainly your friends as wholes, or their individual 
 features ? Try to describe the features of your most inti- 
 mate friends in their absence, and you will see. You will 
 often find yourself ludicrously uncertain as to the shape of 
 the nose, the color of the eyes and hair, to say nothing of 
 less prominent features. All of us likewise recognize a 
 rose when we see it, but it requires the training of the 
 botanist to point out the qualities which distinguish it from 
 all other flowers. 
 
 Assuming the truth of this principle, it is evident that 
 we can best assist our pupils to discriminate and assimilate 
 by presenting to them wholes and objects before parts and 
 qualities. 
 
 Material Wholes and Thought Wholes. We must 
 not limit the application of this principle to material 
 objects and material wholes. It applies to thought wholes 
 as well. Indeed, strictly speaking, all wholes are thought 
 wholes wholes made by thought, wholes that are wholes
 
 THOUGHT WHOLES IN ARITHMETIC. 359 
 
 because the mind chooses to think of them as such. There 
 is absolutely nothing in existence except the universe 
 which we may not think of as a part if we choose, and 
 absolutely nothing that we can not think of as a whole. 
 The universe, including everything, can not be thought of 
 as a part of anything else. Apart from that, it is think- 
 ing, and thinking only, which makes a thing a part or 
 a whole. 
 
 Thought Wholes in Arithmetic. Many arithmeticians 
 do not keep this fact in mind. A fraction is often denned 
 as one or more of the equal parts of a unit, as though units 
 were things of fixed and unchangeable values. I divide 
 an apple into four equal parts, and you ask me if one of 
 these equal parts is a fourth. I do not know how to answer 
 the question, or rather the question does not admit of an 
 answer until it is made more definite. If you ask me what 
 I call one of the parts in relation to the other three, I 
 answer, a unit. It is one in relation to the other three, 
 two in relation to eighths, four in relation to sixteenths, 
 and one-fourth in relation to the apple. The apple itself 
 is one-fourth when considered in relation to a group of 
 four apples, one-eighth in relation to a group of eight 
 apples, and so on. As the mind decides in what relations 
 it will consider things, it is clear that all wholes, as such, 
 are products of the mind. The reason why certain wholes, 
 as apples, oranges, horses, dogs, etc., are thought of as 
 wholes, in a special sense, is that the purposes of life and 
 their relation to each other make it natural for the mind 
 to consider them as such. If this is clear, we may say 
 that a whole is anything, mental or material, that the mind 
 chooses to regard as a whole.
 
 360 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 In History. Thus we may think of the life and public 
 services of Alexander Hamilton as wholes. And, in ac- 
 cordance with the principle we have been discussing, the 
 student will be best assisted in getting clear ideas of the 
 life of that great man by having his attention called to its 
 broad general characteristics first, before these are modified 
 and qualified. If the student learns that Hamilton was 
 first a Tory, then a Democrat, and finally a believer in a 
 strongly centralized aristocratic republic, the broad out- 
 lines of Hamilton's political creed lie before him. The 
 qualifications and specific description of these character- 
 izations will put before him the changes in and final 
 character of Hamilton's political creed with the utmost 
 definiteness. So if your object is to give your class a 
 clear idea of Hamilton's public services, first give them 
 a clear idea of the great work of his life the strengthen- 
 ing and centralizing of the general government; then they 
 are ready for the details the measures and influences by 
 which these ends were reached. 1 
 
 From the Known to the Unknown. That we must 
 proceed from the known to the unknown is another well- 
 established rule in Pedagogy. It is hardly necessary to 
 say that it is based on the fact that all knowing consists 
 to so great an extent in discriminating and assimilating. 
 When I learn a new fact till then, of course, unknown 
 I put it in a class of already known facts. 
 
 From the Simple to the Complex. That we must 
 proceed from the simple to the complex, from the indefinite 
 to the definite, from the unqualified to the qualified, is 
 
 1 See on this subject De Garmo on Method-wholes.
 
 FROM THE SIMPLE TO THE COMPLEX. 361 
 
 another well-established pedagogical rule. What is its 
 psychological basis ? Plainly that a simple, indefinite, or 
 unqualified fact or statement is more easily discriminated 
 and assimilated than a complex, definite, or qualified fact 
 or statement. If you are teaching a child the form of the 
 outlines of South America, you will succeed best by ignor- 
 ing its irregularities in the beginning. With the map 
 before him, make him conscious of its general resemblance 
 to a triangle or a ham of meat, or other familiar object, 
 before you try to teach him how it differs in shape from 
 them. If in such ways you fix the general outline in his 
 mind before advancing to the details, you will impart clear 
 ideas. And why ? Because you are working in harmony 
 with the laws of his mind. 
 
 There is a stronger resemblance between the outline of 
 South America and a triangle than there is between it 
 and any other simple figure, and if the child has a familiar 
 knowledge of a triangle, he assimilates the general shape 
 of South America as soon as his attention is called to it. 
 Indeed, so far as thought is concerned, this case comes 
 under the general principle already spoken of wholes 
 and objects are more easily discriminated and assimilated 
 than parts and qualities. To thought, South America has 
 the shape of a triangle a whole qualified by certain 
 irregularities. In other words, just as the mind grasps a 
 whole before it does the parts, so it grasps the triangle 
 in South America before it does the deviations from a 
 triangle. So likewise of the unqualified or indefinite in 
 relation to the qualified or definite. In relation to thought, 
 the unqualified and indefinite are wholes, first known as 
 such before they are qualified and made definite, and the 
 qualities are parts.
 
 362 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 Application. When we have put our pupil in posses- 
 sion of a concept, or definition, or induction, or maxim 
 we should, as the Herbartians insist, help him to vitalize 
 his knowledge by helping him to apply it. 1 In teaching 
 history, for example, we are constantly running upon some 
 truth about human nature, or upon some law of economics 
 or politics. To vitalize this truth, the pupil must be helped 
 to see its relation to everything to which it applies within 
 the range of his knowledge and experience. 
 
 Here we can see the educational value of " reviews " 
 it is to give to the student's knowledge that familiarity 
 that makes it possible for him to relate it properly to new 
 knowledge, and to use it in acquiring new knowledge. 
 
 Reviews. Ordinary usage tends to promulgate the 
 idea that reviews are useful only to fix things in the mind 
 of the student in order that he can tell them. If they are 
 only good for that, they are hardly good for anything. 
 There are tljree stages of knowing. In the first, knowl- 
 edge is merely implicit ; the student can not express what 
 he knows. Such knowledge is useful as a foundation for 
 something better; but if it never leaves that stage, it is 
 
 1 I can not agree with Dr. De Garmo and the Herbartians that this last 
 stage or step always forms a part -of a correct method. He holds that "(i) 
 the apperception of new facts in preparation and presentation ; (2) the 
 transition from individual to general notions, whether the latter appear as 
 definitions, rules, principles, or moral maxims ; and (3) the application of 
 these general truths to concrete facts, i.e., the return from universals to 
 particulars," are the three " essential stages of a correct method." I think 
 that he makes this second step much too definite, as is evident from what 
 I have said about "the play of the mind about the reality " in discussing 
 the Objective Method. In some cases, as we have seen, " the play of the 
 mind " is simply the appreciation of what is beautiful. How can such 
 appreciation be applied ?
 
 QUESTIONS. 363 
 
 almost worthless. In the second, it has become explicit ; 
 the student can tell what he knows, but he does not know 
 it fluently enough, so to speak, to use it in thinking. In 
 the third, the student not only knows, but knows so well 
 that he can use his knowledge in thinking ; he can use it 
 in acquiring, and also in illustrating, new knowledge. Such 
 knowledge is thoroughly assimilated ; it has become a part, 
 as it were, of the warp and woof, the flesh and bone and 
 blood of his mind. To develop knowledge into that shape 
 is the great function of reviews. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . Make a careful summary of the last lesson. 
 
 2. In what does apperception consist ? 
 
 3. What light does it throw on the preparation of the pupil's mind 
 for the lesson ? Illustrate. 
 
 4. In what should such preparation consist ? 
 
 5. Explain the principle that underlies the proper presentation of 
 facts. 
 
 6. What is a thought whole ? Illustrate. 
 
 7. Why should we proceed from the simple to the complex, from 
 the known to the unknown, etc. ? 
 
 8. What are the three "essential stages" of the Herbartians? 
 
 9. Criticise his statement of them. 
 10. What is the function of reviews? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTION. 
 
 Give examples of De Garmo's last stage, selected from geography, 
 history, and reading.
 
 LESSON XL. 
 
 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 Summary of the Preceding Chapter. We have now 
 completed our survey of the so-called intellectual faculties. 
 The last chapter has enabled us to see that this division of 
 the mind into faculties is not a fundamental division 
 that, however convenient it may be to speak of perception, 
 memory, imagination, conception, and reasoning as though 
 they were distinct and separate powers of the mind, all of 
 them are mere modes of apperception. 
 
 What the Training of the Faculties of the Mind 
 Means. In connection with the discussion of each of 
 these modes of apperception, or faculties, as we may, to 
 save circumlocution, continue to call them, we have con- 
 sidered the subject of their training. At this point, we 
 may profitably consider the question as to what the train- 
 ing of these faculties means. Does the training of the 
 faculty of observation mean the development of the power 
 of observation in general ? In other words, does the 
 student who increases his power of observation by observ- 
 ing plants, increase his powers to the same extent or 
 even at all to observe the facts of his mind ? Does the 
 student who cultivates his memory by the study of history 
 
 364
 
 SYMMETRICAL DEVELOPMENT. 365 
 
 his historical memory, we may call it at the same 
 time cultivate his geological or botanical memory ? Does 
 the student who cultivates his geographical imagination at 
 the same time cultivate his mathematical imagination ? 
 Does the student who trains his reasoning power through 
 the study of mathematics at the same time train it for the 
 study of chemistry? In a word, are we to suppose that 
 the exercise of our powers upon any subject matter trains 
 them to an equal extent to deal with any other subject 
 matter ? 
 
 Symmetrical Development. Students familiar with 
 pedagogical literature have already seen that I am inquir- 
 ing into the validity of a time-honored conception the 
 conception of symmetrical development. The ordinary con- 
 ception of education is that it consists in symmetrical 
 development, and by symmetrical development popular 
 thought supposes such a development of the various powers 
 of the mind as corresponds to their worth in the mental 
 life. As reasoning is of more value than memory, it should 
 receive more cultivation, but the cultivation which each of 
 them receives is a cultivation good for any subject matter 
 whatever. This is the conception the truth of which I am 
 calling in question. 
 
 Huxley on Education. We meet this conception in 
 so clear-headed a thinker as the late Professor Huxley. 
 " That man," he says, " I think, has had a liberal education 
 who has been so trained in his youth that his body is the 
 ready servant of his will, and does with ease and pleasure 
 all the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of ; whose 
 intellect is a clear, cold logic-engine, with all its parts of
 
 366 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 equal strength, and in smooth working order ; ready, like 
 a steam-engine, to be turned to any kind of work, and spin 
 the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of the mind ; 
 whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the great and 
 fundamental truths of nature, and of the laws of her opera- 
 tions ; one who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, 
 but whose passions are trained to come to heal by a vig- 
 orous will, the servant of a tender conscience ; who has 
 learned to love all beauty, whether of nature or art ; to 
 hate all vileness, and to respect others as himself." 
 
 Is Huxley's Opinion True ? Are there any men with 
 intellects of this description ready, like a steam-engine, 
 to be turned to any kind of work, ready to observe and 
 remember any classes of facts, to imagine any phases of 
 reality, to reason upon any subject with equal facility ? 
 With the possible exception of a few universal geniuses 
 like Aristotle, Shakespeare, and Goethe, have there been 
 any men capable of spinning the gossamers as well as of 
 forging the anchors of the mind ? If not, it is certainly a 
 legitimate inquiry whether, in trying to reach an inherently 
 impossible ideal, we are not losing valuable attainable 
 goods. 
 
 I believe that the exercise of our powers upon any class 
 of facts does not train them to the same extent for exercise 
 upon any other class of facts; that you can say of the 
 same man that he is a good observer and a bad observer, 
 that he has a good memory and a bad memory, that he has 
 great imaginative power and poor imaginative power, that 
 he is a good reasoner and a poor reasoner, according as 
 you have in view one subject matter or another upon which 
 his powers are to be exercised.
 
 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 367 
 
 Suggestions of Physiological Psychology. I call your 
 attention to the support which this proposition receives 
 from Physiological Psychology. In our study of the brain 
 we have learned that the functions of the cerebrum are 
 to some extent localized, that the part of the cerebrum 
 especially active in occasioning sensations of color is not 
 the part especially active in connection with sensations of 
 smell, and so on. What good reason, then, is there for 
 supposing that a good observer of the colors of objects 
 will be a good observer of sounds, or that exercise in one 
 kind of observation has the same effect upon the mind as 
 another ? On the contrary, such a view of the facts sug- 
 gests that we ought to speak of the mind's poivers of 
 observation, not power, precisely as we have seen that we 
 ought to speak of the memories, rather than of the memory, 
 of the mind. 
 
 Conclusions Drawn from Experience in Case of Obser- 
 vation. When we study the effects of exercise in observa- 
 tion upon our minds and those of the people we know, we 
 find the suggestions of Physiological Psychology abundantly 
 confirmed. The sailor who can tell at a glance what line 
 a steamship belongs to, and can detect land where you can 
 not see anything, is a very poor observer when you get 
 him on land ; the jeweler who can tell with ease whether 
 a stone is a genuine diamond, but who has no skill in 
 distinguishing the qualities of silks ; the wool-buyer who 
 can tell the quality of wool from the way it feels, but who 
 can not distinguish one quality of tea from another ; the 
 tea-taster who can discriminate the qualities of different 
 teas with almost unerring accuracy, but who can scarcely 
 distinguish one horse from another are cases in point.
 
 368 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 The expression, Such and such a man is a good observer, 
 is always elliptical. It means that he is a good observer of 
 certain classes of facts. 
 
 Memory. We have already seen that the same is true 
 of memory. We recall how Dr. Harris cultivated his 
 memory for dates, and then for names the cultivation 
 of the one kind of memory was not the cultivation of the 
 other. Every one knows that the man in whose memory 
 certain kinds of facts " stick," apparently without effort 
 upon his part, may remember facts in another department 
 of thought only with great difficulty. The student who 
 can not remember Latin and Greek forms may carry mul- 
 titudes of chemical facts in his mind without difficulty, as 
 one who can not remember mathematical formulas may 
 remember psychological or historical facts with ease. How 
 easily the story-teller remembers long-winded stories, or 
 the practiced chess-player complicated positions on the 
 chess-board, but it does not follow that either of them has 
 a good memory for anything else. 
 
 Imagination. We have seen that the same is true 
 of the imagination. We remember that not only is it not 
 true that the sort of training which the physicist gives his 
 imagination in the study of his subject does not train 
 his imagination to realize the facts of Psychology, but 
 that in some respects such a training is a positive dis- 
 qualification for it. Professor James reports an incident 
 which illustrates in a very vivid way the effect of the study 
 of biology on fas psychological imagination. " I have heard 
 a most intelligent biologist say : ' It is high time for scien- 
 tific men to protest against the recognition of any such
 
 REASONING. 369 
 
 thing as consciousness in a scientific investigation.' " The 
 imagination of this biologist was so disqualified by his 
 studies for apprehending the realities of consciousness 
 that it seemed absurd to him to take any account of them 
 at all ! Each subject has its appropriate imagination, and 
 the cultivation of the imagination by exercising it upon 
 one subject matter is not the cultivation it would receive 
 by exercising it upon another. Galton found that people 
 in general society have as a rule much greater power to 
 imagine in definite and vivid ways the things and events 
 of ordinary life than men of science. The reason is that 
 men of science are engaged for the most part in dealing 
 with the images of symbols, and they therefore lose the 
 power to form definite and clear-cut images of things. 
 
 Reasoning. The same is true of reasoning. Every 
 teacher knows how common it is to meet students who 
 excel in one study, but who are below mediocrity in another. 
 And biography is crowded with examples which show that 
 excellence in one field is no warrant for inferring excellence 
 in another. Charles Sumner, excelling as a statesman, but 
 below mediocrity as a mathematician; Darwin, almost 
 failing as a student of Latin and Greek, but with powers 
 of reasoning in other fields which have placed him in the 
 very front of the naturalists of the world; Sir William 
 Hamilton, with powers as a metaphysician of the highest 
 order of excellence, but with little capacity for mathematics 
 
 are cases in point. One may say indeed that one of 
 
 the great characteristics of the nineteenth century is to 
 emphasize more and more the value of expert knowledge. 
 Who cares for a mathematician's opinion about currency, 
 or for an economist's opinion about mathematics ? Who
 
 37O NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 wishes to know what a clergyman thinks about geology, 
 or what a geologist thinks about theology ? President 
 Eliot well says : " Confidence in experts, and willingness 
 to employ them and abide by their decisions, are among 
 the best signs of intelligence in an educated individual or 
 an educated community." The reason is not only that 
 expert knowledge is essential, but expert reasoning. In 
 acquiring the knowledge of his specialty, the expert has 
 acquired facility to reason upon it so that he is as much 
 superior to the layman in a certain kind of reasoning 
 capacity as he is in the possession of a certain kind of 
 knowledge. 
 
 Truth Emphasized by the Notion of Symmetrical 
 Development. We seem justified in concluding, then, 
 that there is no such thing as a universal training of per- 
 ception, memory, imagination, reasoning. The notion of 
 symmetrical development has played its part upon the 
 educational stage. It is time for the curtain to drop upon 
 it forever. That part has undoubtedly been useful. The 
 idea of symmetrical development has helped us to remem- 
 ber that man is more than intellect that a man whose 
 intellect alone is developed has a poor education, no matter 
 how well developed his intellect may be, as a man with 
 a good deal of taste in some directions is likely to be a 
 drivelling sentimentalist without a proper training of his 
 intellect. A conception which has helped to keep such 
 facts before our minds has rendered important service. 
 It has also emphasized the fact that teachers have so 
 much difficulty in remembering that the proper training 
 of the intellect consists in something more than imparting 
 knowledge.
 
 ERRORS SUGGESTED. 371 
 
 "X 
 
 Errors Suggested by it. But it has also done a good 
 deal of harm. Few educational experts to-day doubt that 
 we require our pupils to study arithmetic at least twice as 
 long as we ought. Why do we do it ? Because of the 
 notion of symmetrical development. With the idea that 
 the study of arithmetic is especially adapted to train the 
 reasoning power, we put our pupils at it when they start 
 to school, and keep them at it until they enter the high 
 school, and sometimes even longer. The same reasoning 
 is used to justify the vicious extent to which our pupils 
 are required to study technical grammar. I can not 
 take time to point out the mischief which this mode of 
 reasoning has wrought in high schools and colleges to 
 show the absurdity, for example, of requiring American 
 citizens to study Latin, and not requiring them to study 
 American history ; of requiring them to study Greek, and 
 not requiring them to study political economy ; of requir- 
 ing them to study higher mathematics, and not requiring 
 them to study municipal government. Accept the theory 
 that the training of the reasoning power upon one subject 
 is to an equal extent a training of it to deal with any other 
 
 subject and such requirements are wise. Accept the 
 
 theory that we acquire the capacity to reason upon any 
 Subject matter by actually reasoning upon that subject 
 matter and such requirements are absurd. 
 
 If, then, we must abandon the idea of symmetrical 
 development as the criterion by which we are to be guided 
 in the determining of courses of study, what shall be our 
 guiding principle ? This question I will try to answer in 
 the following lesson.
 
 372 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. What is meant by the training of the faculties of the mind? 
 
 2. State Huxley's opinion on education. 
 
 3. In what particular was he mistaken? 
 
 4. What conclusion does Physiological Psychology suggest? 
 
 5. What conclusions can we draw from experience in the case of 
 (a) observation, (b) memory, (c) imagination, (d) reasoning ? 
 
 6. What truth is emphasized by the notion of symmetrical develop- 
 ment? 
 
 7. What errors are suggested by it?
 
 LESSON XLI. 
 
 THE END OF EDUCATION. 
 
 Herbartian Conception. The question as to the crite- 
 rion which is to guide us in selecting courses of study is 
 the question as to the end of education. The Herbartians 
 tell us that this end is character.' Taken in the ordinary 
 sense, as the equivalent of moral character, we all know 
 that is not true. All of us are acquainted with men of 
 character who are not educated. 
 
 Dewey 's Definition of Character. But I find myself 
 obliged to dissent from the view that the end of education 
 is the development of character, as character was defined 
 at the recent (1897) meeting of the Herbart Society. 
 Said Dr. Dewey: "Character means power of social agency, 
 organized capacity of social functioning. It means, as 
 already suggested, social insight or intelligence, social 
 executive power, and social interest or responsiveness." 
 In other words according to Dr. Dewey that man is 
 educated who sees the needs of society, has capacity to 
 promote them, and is disposed to do it. 
 
 It Regards Man Simply as a Member of Society. - 
 Why not say, That man is educated who sees his own 
 needs, using the expression in the most comprehensive 
 
 373
 
 374 THE END OF EDUCATION. 
 
 sense, has capacity to promote them, and is disposed to 
 do it ? If you say that the two definitions really mean 
 the same thing, that they are descriptive of two sides of 
 the same fact, I beg to dissent. Dr. Deweys definition 
 regards man as simply a member of society; the defini- 
 tion suggested as a substitute regards man as an individ- 
 ual. The ancient conception was that the end of man 
 was to serve the state, and that the object of education 
 was to qualify him for it. As it may seem at first sight 
 that it makes no difference whether you state the end of 
 education in terms that relate to the individual, or in terms 
 that relate to society, so it may seem that it could not have 
 made any difference whether the old Greeks stated their 
 conception of education in terms that related to the state, 
 or in terms that related to the individual. But when we 
 find practices which we abhor defended on the principle 
 that the individual exists for the state practices such as 
 slavery, the killing of feeble or deformed children, the 
 treatment of barbarians as a race essentially inferior to 
 the Greeks it becomes evident that a conception which 
 ignores the value and significance of man as an individual 
 is not only false, but that it leads to pernicious practical 
 consequences. 
 
 Difference between Dewey's Conception and that of 
 the Ancient Greeks. - - The difference between Dr. 
 Dewey's conception and that of the ancient Greeks is that 
 he puts " society " in the place of the state. As a man, 
 according to the ancient Greeks, was nothing but a citizen, 
 so, according to Dr. Dewey, he is nothing but a member 
 of society. As the individual, according to the ancient 
 conception, existed for the state, so, according to Dr.
 
 PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS. 375 
 
 Dewey, he exists for the sake of society. " He lives in, for, 
 and by society." And as we have found pernicious prac- 
 tical consequences growing out of the notion that man 
 was nothing but a citizen, so we shall find pernicious prac- 
 tical proposals based on the notion that man is nothing but 
 a member of society. 
 
 Practical Deductions. "As to methods," says Dr. 
 Dewey, "this principle" -that man exists for society, 
 and that the school should be a social community which 
 reflects and organizes the fundamental principles of all 
 community life "when applied means that emphasis 
 must be upon construction and giving out, rather than 
 upon absorption and mere learning. We fail to recognize 
 how essentially individualistic" note the word "the 
 latter methods are, and how unconsciously, yet certainly 
 and effectively, they react into the child's ways of judging 
 and of acting. Imagine forty children all engaged in 
 reading the same books, and in preparing and reciting the 
 same lessons day after day. Suppose that this constitutes 
 by far the larger part of their work, and that they are con- 
 tinually judged from the standpoint of what they are able 
 to take in in a study hour, and to reproduce in a recitation 
 hour. There is next to no opportunity here for any social 
 or moral division of labor}- There is no opportunity for 
 each child to work out something specifically his own, 
 which he may contribute to the common stock, while he, 
 in turn, participates in the productions of others. All are 
 set to do exactly the same work and turn out the same 
 results. The social spirit is not- cultivated in fact, in 
 
 1 Italics not in the original.
 
 376 THE END OF EDUCATION. 
 
 so far as this method gets in its work, it gradually 
 atrophies for lack of use"* 
 
 Criticism. Would Dr. Dewey have the forty pupils 
 read forty different books in order to make " a moral 
 division of labor " ? Would he have teachers set their 
 pupils to work with a view to the needs of the individual 
 pupils, or with a view to the needs of the school as a 
 social community ? Is the method which lays emphasis 
 upon construction less individualistic than the method 
 which lays emphasis upon absorption ? Is the method which 
 lays emphasis upon "giving out" good primarily because 
 of its moral effects or because of its effect upon the intel- 
 lect of the individual pupil ? Is there any moral differ- 
 ence between " absorption " and " giving out " ? Shall I 
 set my pupils a task in which the emphasis is laid upon 
 " construction " and " giving out," not because that sort 
 of work is good for them intellectually, but because of its 
 supposed moral advantages ? Shall I sacrifice the intellec- 
 tual good of my pupils for the supposed needs of the 
 school as a social community ? 
 
 Test of Good and Bad Methods. The truth is, if the 
 method which lays emphasis upon absorption is a bad 
 method, it is not because it is individualistic, but because 
 it is not individualistic enough. It deals too superficially 
 with the individual. If the method which lays emphasis 
 upon construction is a good method, it is because it has 
 proper regard for the individual. The method which lays 
 emphasis upon absorption is not a bad method because of 
 its moral effects ; nor is the method which lays emphasis 
 
 1 Third Year-book of the National Herbart Society, pp. 15-16.
 
 THE PROPER STIMULUS. 377 
 
 upon construction a good method because of its moral 
 excellences. 
 
 The Proper Stimulus. Dr. Dewey says that the 
 absorptive method inculcates "positively individualistic 
 motives and standards." "Some stimulus will be found 
 to keep the child at his studies. At the best this will be 
 his affection for his teacher," etc. Why not interest in 
 his work ? Does not every teacher know that this is the 
 motive to which we must successfully appeal if we are to 
 get the best results ? " But unfortunately the motive (of 
 affection for the teacher) is always mixed with lower 
 motives which are distinctly individualistic." Fear enters 
 in, " the fear of losing the approbation of others ; fear of 
 failure so extreme and sensitive as to be morbid. On the 
 other side, emulation and rivalry enter in. Just because 
 all are doing the same work, and are judged (both in 
 recitation and in examination, with reference to grading 
 and to promotion) not from the standpoint of their motives 
 or the ends which they are trying to reach, the feeling of 
 superiority is unduly appealed to." 
 
 Dr. Dewey on Promotion. If the last sentence means 
 anything, it means that pupils are to be graded and pro- 
 moted not according to their capacity to work, but from 
 the standpoint of their motives ! A boy is to be promoted 
 from one class in arithmetic to another not because he is 
 able to do the work in the advanced class, but because of 
 the high moral purpose that animates him ! And how is 
 it that Dr. Dewey has failed to see that fear of failure to 
 do constructive work may likewise be morbid ; that emula- 
 tion and rivalry may as easily step in in connection with
 
 378 THE END OF EDUCATION. 
 
 that kind of work as in connection with any other ? The 
 natural incentive to study is interest in the work done. 
 Whoever relies upon any other motive relies upon a com- 
 paratively artificial motive. These two propositions, it 
 seems to me, are self-evident: (i) When I set a pupil a 
 given task, I ought to have in view his entire needs as an 
 individual, and not as a member of society simply ; (2) such 
 work gives him the best stimulus to work because it is 
 best fitted to arouse his interest. 
 
 Contrast between the Needs of a Pupil as an In- 
 dividual, and his Needs as a Member of Society. If it 
 be said that I am drawing a contrast where none exists, 
 the contrast between the needs of the pupil as an individ- 
 ual, and his needs as a member of society, I reply in the 
 first place that I am simply following Dr. Dewey's example. 
 It is he who suggests that pupils shall be graded and pro- 
 moted not according to their capacities their needs as 
 individuals but according to their needs as members of 
 society. In the second place, I am unable to believe that 
 the needs of the pupil as an individual, and his needs as a 
 member of society are identical. Is not the pleasure which 
 a student feels in study one thing, and is not the pleasure 
 he experiences as he reflects upon the service which knowl- 
 edge of the subject will enable him to render to his fellows 
 another ? Is not the perception of the beauty of a land- 
 scape, or a flower, or a picture, or a poem one thing, and 
 is not the social use and consequence of that perception a 
 different thing ? Should we try to help our pupils appre- 
 ciate the beauty of nature and art for their own sakes as 
 individuals, or for the social uses and consequences of such 
 perceptions ?
 
 THE INDIVIDUAL IS OF SUPREME VALUE. 379 
 
 If it were true that the needs of the pupil as an individ- 
 ual and his needs as a member of society coincided, I 
 should still protest in the interests of right thinking against 
 Dr. Dewey's putting of the question. On that supposition, 
 it is surely more rational to say that the ultimate reason 
 for the work which we require of pupils is that by doing it 
 they promote their own highest ends. For unless the pupil 
 has felt the value and significance of his own life as an 
 individual, how can he be expected to feel the value and 
 significance of the lives of the individuals who compose 
 society ? 
 
 The Individual the Thing of Supreme Value. As I 
 
 conceive it, the Herbartian conception ignores the truth 
 which all history has been struggling to teach that the 
 thing of supreme value and worth in this world is the in- 
 dividual. What can you do for the individual? is the 
 question which we should put to schools, churches, forms 
 of government institutions of every description. Not the 
 man for the state, as the old Greeks taught, but the state 
 for the man ; not the man for the Church, as the Middle 
 Ages taught, but the Church for the man ; not the pupil 
 for the school, as Dr. Dewey teaches, but the school for 
 
 the pupil. 
 
 If, then, we must reject the notion that the end of 
 education is symmetrical development, and the Herbartian 
 conception, that it is the development of character, what 
 shall we take as our goal ? 
 
 Preparation for Rational Living the Object of Educa- 
 tion. Perhaps it is impossible to answer this question 
 more definitely than by saying that the object of education
 
 380 THE END OF EDUCATION. 
 
 should be preparation for wise and rational living ; com- 
 plete living, Rousseau and Herbert Spencer have called it, 
 wise and rational living not only in society, but in all the 
 relations of life. Many people suppose that the object of 
 education is the communication of knowledge. Manifestly 
 that is a part of education. For how can I act wisely 
 without knowledge ? How can I take proper care of my 
 health without some knowledge of hygiene ? How can I 
 train my child intelligently without some knowledge of 
 Psychology? How can I vote intelligently without some 
 knowledge of economics and history ? How can I render 
 these services to society upon the performance of which my 
 livelihood depends without knowledge ? Popular thought 
 errs, therefore, by taking a part of the truth for the 
 whole. 
 
 And the same is true of the Herbartian conception. 
 All of us are members of society. A part of our lives is 
 as members of society. But a man prepared to live wisely 
 and rationally as a member of society only, would not be 
 prepared for complete living ; he would not be prepared to 
 live wisely and rationally in all of the relations of life. 
 
 Elements of it. What constitutes preparation for 
 rational living ? Not social insight, social executive power, 
 and social interest or responsiveness simply, as Dr. Dewey 
 supposes, but insight into my own needs, and those of 
 society in so far as it is related to me, ability to act accord- 
 ingly, and the disposition so to act. Jn other^ wordsj the 
 possession of a certain kind of knowledge ; a certain dis- 
 cipline of the intellect ; a certain responsiveness of the 
 emotions ; a certain training of the will. I must have 
 knowledge ; I must be able to make the proper application
 
 A CERTAIN KIND OF KNOWLEDGE. 381 
 
 of my knowledge ; I must be disposed to do it ; I must be 
 able to act on my disposition. 
 
 (1) The Possession of a Certain Kind of Knowledge. 
 
 ( I ) The possession of a certain kind of knowledge. What 
 kind ? That which bears on action and legitimate enjoy- 
 ment. Whatever I need to know in order to act wisely 
 and enjoy rationally the pleasures of life, my education 
 should have taught me, or put me in a position to acquire. 
 
 (2) Of a Certain Discipline of the Intellect. (2) The 
 possession of a certain discipline of the intellect. Dr. Dewey 
 insists on the importance of constructiveness in contrast 
 with mere absorption, and wisely, though for an unwise 
 reason. Constructiveness and thought are essential, be- 
 cause without them our pupils will not acquire the power 
 to make a wise use of their knowledge. Without proper 
 knowledge we can not act wisely, without ability to draw 
 the proper inferences from our knowledge and make the 
 proper applications of it we are equally incapable of wise 
 action. 
 
 (3) Of a Certain Responsiveness of the Emotions. - 
 
 (3) A certain responsiveness of the emotions. Our emo- 
 tions constitute what I may call the worth-giving side of 
 our natures, that side of our nature which determines our 
 estimate of things. Now, as Davidson says, "it is not 
 enough for a man to understand the conditions of rational 
 life in his own time, he must likewise love these conditions, 
 and hate whatever leads to life of an opposite kind. This 
 is only another way of saying that he must love the good 
 and hate the evil ; for the good is simply what conduces
 
 382 THE END OF EDUCATION. 
 
 to rational or moral life, and the evil simply what leads 
 away from it. It is perfectly obvious, as soon as it is 
 pointed out, that all immoral life is due to a false distribu- 
 tion of affection, which again is often, though by no means 
 always, due to a want of intellectual cultivation. He that 
 attributes to anything a value greater or less than it really 
 possesses in the order of things has already placed himself 
 in a false relation to it, and will certainly, when he comes 
 to act with reference to it, act immorally," and, therefore, 
 unwisely. 
 
 (4) Of a Certain Training of the Will. (4) A certain 
 training of the will. " But again it is not enough," 
 Davidson continues, "for a man to understand correctly 
 and love duly the conditions of moral life in his own time ; 
 he must, still further, be willing and able to fulfill these 
 conditions. And he certainly can not do this unless his 
 will is trained to perfect freedom, so that it responds, with 
 the utmost readiness, to the suggestions of his discriminat- 
 ing intelligence and the movements of his chastened 
 affections." 1 
 
 Respect for Expert Knowledge. There is one char- 
 acteristic of a man prepared to live wisely in our demo- 
 cratic country of such overriding importance that I can 
 not omit to mention it, the less so as I may seem to have 
 fallen into the same error which vitiates Spencer's reason- 
 ing in his essay on " What Knowledge is of Most Worth," 
 the mistake of supposing that the individual ought to be 
 taught all that the society of which he is a member needs 
 
 1 Davidson's Greek Education, p. 9.
 
 QUESTIONS. 383 
 
 to know. // should be a primary object of our teaching to 
 develop in our pupils a sense of respect for, and of the 
 importance of expert knowledge. 
 
 I have already quoted one sentence from President Eliot 
 bearing on this point. Let me quote another : " Democ- 
 racies will not be safe until the population has learned 
 that governmental affairs must be conducted on the same 
 principles on which successful private and corporate busi- 
 ness is conducted and therefore it should be one of the 
 principal objects of democratic education so to train the 
 minds of the children that when they become adult they 
 shall have within their own experience the grounds of 
 respect for the attainments of experts in every branch of 
 governmental, industrial, and social activity, and of con- 
 fidence in their advice." 1 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1. Compare Dewey's conception of education with that of the 
 ancient Greeks and the people of the Middle Ages. 
 
 2. Criticise it at length. 
 
 3. What is the object of education ? 
 
 4. What kind of training is required for rational living ? 
 
 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Do you agree with the Herbartians that arithmetic may be 
 made a means of much cultivation ? 
 
 2. What do you think is the chief resource of the school in the 
 way of moral training ? In the way of the training of the will ? 
 
 1 Outlook, Nov. 6, 1897, p. 573-
 
 LESSON XLII. 
 
 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 Importance of the Study of Children. "All the roads 
 in the Roman Empire led to the city of Rome." At every 
 turn and corner in our study of our subject, we have seen 
 that successful teaching demands a close, careful, and 
 systematic study of children. At this stage in the history 
 of the world, men have come to realize clearly the fact 
 that, no matter what happens in the physical world- there 
 is a cause for it. If a watch stops, or a lock refuses to 
 act, we know that there is a cause for it, and that a patient 
 study of the facts of the case may enable us to discover 
 and remove it. That is precisely the attitude which we 
 should take toward our pupils. If they are not interested 
 in any particular subject, if they are inattentive, if they 
 do not like to go to school, there is a cause for it, and it is 
 our business to learn what it is. Let us not be guilty of 
 the stupidity of saying that some boys "naturally" dislike 
 school. That is an easy explanation to which lazy teachers 
 have a great tendency to resort. But it has a painful like- 
 ness to some of the explanations of the Middle Ages. 
 " Moving bodies have a natural tendency to stop," said 
 the scholars of that time. " Some boys naturally dislike 
 books," say many of our teachers now. Precisely as a 
 more careful study of the facts has thoroughly discredited 
 
 384
 
 CHANGE IN PEDAGOGICAL STUDY. 385 
 
 the former explanation, so I believe a careful study of the 
 facts will thoroughly discredit the latter. 
 
 Change in Pedagogical Study. That the importance 
 of the study of children is beginning to be generally 
 recognized is one of the most encouraging signs of the 
 times. In the beginning of the study of Pedagogy in this 
 country, it was confined almost entirely to a study of 
 methods. Later, it was seen that the most fruitful study 
 of Pedagogy includes a study of the principles that under- 
 lie methods ; that in order to know how to deal with the 
 human mind, we must know why we deal with it thus and 
 so ; and that to know the why of our procedure, we must 
 know the laws that govern it. And little by little educators 
 have come to see that, after all, the text-book on Psychology 
 which it is of most importance for teachers to study is one 
 whose pages are ever open before them the minds of 
 their pupils, and the children with whom they come in 
 contact. Never before in the history of the world was 
 the importance of the study of Psychology to teachers 
 so generally recognized as now. But, suggestive as a 
 knowledge of it is to thoughtful and intelligent teachers, 
 the best result to be expected from it is the development 
 of what Dr. Josiah Royce calls the psychological spirit 1 
 the habit of observing children and of the power to turn 
 that spirit to the utmost possible account. In the first 
 two chapters, we considered the benefits of the study of 
 Psychology to the teacher. The conclusions there reached 
 were such as seemed evident from the very nature of the 
 case, independently of any special conclusions that our 
 study of the mind would enable us to reach. And while 
 
 1 Educational Review, February, 1891.
 
 386 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 I believe that we shall all agree that the claims there made 
 for it are fully borne out by the facts, I think we shall 
 feel that if our study has made us more interested in the 
 growth and development of the minds of children, more 
 disposed to study them, less ready to dogmatize about 
 them, more eager to learn by actual observation what they 
 can do and what they can not do, what they like and what 
 they do not like, the result of our study will be of incom- 
 parably greater value than any there insisted on. 
 
 Psychology and Education, Because Psychology un- 
 doubtedly underlies the science of education, I have seen 
 what I can not but regard as a disposition to overestimate 
 its importance. The opinion seems to be entertained in 
 some quarters that every teacher should be a specialist in 
 Psychology. If by that is meant that he must keep well 
 abreast of psychological research, or that he should even 
 be especially interested in current psychological literature, 
 I enter my emphatic dissent. Many an excellent teacher 
 undoubtedly reproaches himself for his lack of interest in 
 it, forgetting that it is as impossible for every teacher to 
 have a special interest in Psychology as it is for them all 
 to have a special interest in mathematics or chemistry. 
 By no such criterion should a teacher test his adaptation 
 for his work. But if a teacher finds himself without inter- 
 est in children, if he has no disposition to investigate the 
 causes of the facts that thrust themselves upon him every 
 day, if he finds himself disposed to be content with merely 
 verbal explanations "stupidity," "prejudice," "natural 
 dislike of the subject," "bad home surroundings," "ugli- 
 ness," etc., I would respectfully suggest that he carefully 
 consider whether he has not mistaken his vocation. A
 
 DOCTRINE OF APPERCEPTION. 387 
 
 specialist in Psychology every teacher should not be; 
 special and careful students of the minds of their pupils 
 all teachers should be. 
 
 I do not, of course, undervalue the study of psychologi- 
 cal literature. But I do believe that the greatest practical 
 benefit it can render to the teacher consists in the help it 
 can give him in his study of children. 
 
 Doctrine of Apperception Shows the Necessity of 
 Studying Children. Our study of apperception will en- 
 able us to see how indispensable is the study of children. 
 Whether we are perceiving, remembering, imagining, con- 
 ceiving, judging, or reasoning, we are alike apperceiving. 
 But apperception is the relating activity of the mind, the 
 activity by which a thing the mind is engaged in knowing 
 is brought into relation with something the mind already 
 knows. In order, then, that the event which we call 
 knowledge may take place in the mind, two conditions 
 must be realized : (i) ideas must exist in the mind of the 
 pupil with which the thing to be known can be brought 
 into conscious relation ; and (2) the relation to be estab- 
 lished by the particular kind of knowledge must be one 
 which the mind is capable of perceiving. 
 
 Contents of Children's Minds. No one but a careful 
 student of children will avoid assuming that they know 
 what they do not know, and, therefore, that they can 
 understand what they do not understand. Educational 
 journals have been emphasizing this point to such an ex- 
 tent of late years that it would seem that the bare mention 
 of it ought to be sufficient. Nevertheless, its importance 
 is so great that I beg to quote a summary of the results of
 
 388 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 the examination of some children in Germany : " It was 
 found in thirty-three "people's schools in the Vogtland, in 
 the examination of the newly entered six-year-old children 
 in June of the year 1878, that of 500 city children ques- 
 tioned, 82 per cent had no idea of 'sunrise,' and 77 per cent 
 none of ' sunset ' ; 37 per cent had never seen a grainfield, 
 49 per cent had never seen a pond, 80 per cent a lark, 
 and 82 per cent an oak ; 37 per cent had never been in 
 the woods, 29 per cent never on a river bank, 52 per cent 
 never on a mountain, 50 per cent never in a church, 
 57 per cent never in a village, and 81 per cent had not 
 yet been in the castle of Plauen ; 72 per cent could not 
 tell how bread is made out of grain, and 49 per cent knew 
 nothing yet of God. Similar conditions were shown in a 
 factory village in the neighborhood of Reichenbach. In 
 that place of 17 children only two knew any river, and 
 what these called a river was a shallow ditch ; only two 
 knew anything of God, and one of these thought of the 
 clouds instead. Relatively much more favorable results 
 were obtained in the examination in the other village 
 schools. Of the 300 elementary scholars in these only 
 8 per cent had never seen a grainfield, 14 per cent had 
 never seen a pond, 30 per cent a lark, and 43 per cent an 
 oak ; only 14 per cent had never been in the woods, 
 1 8 per cent on the bank of a creek or river, 26 per cent on 
 a mountain, 51 per cent in a church; only 37 per cent 
 could not tell how bread comes from grain ; and 34 per cent 
 knew nothing of God." 1 The investigations of President 
 Hall and Superintendent Greenwood showed the same 
 diversity in the contents of children's minds ; the same 
 lack of acquaintance with many things the knowledge of 
 
 1 Lange's Apperception, p. i6i<
 
 ABILITY TO APPREHEND RELATIONS. 389 
 
 which the teacher is likely to presuppose. Manifestly, if 
 we hope to bring about that relating activity in the minds 
 of our pupils in which all apperception consists, we must 
 see to it that they have the proper ideas in their minds. 
 
 Ability to Apprehend Relations can not be Ascer- 
 tained in any A Priori Way. But the second condition 
 is just as important, and, like the first, it can be ascertained 
 only by the study of individual children. Whether a pupil 
 can bring an idea which I wish to impart to him into the 
 required relation to something he already knows depends 
 on his power to apprehend the relation. When can 
 children learn numbers ? As soon as they can perceive 
 numerical relations. A child can understand what "three" 
 means when he can perceive the resemblance between 
 three horses and three marbles when he can perceive 
 that they resemble each other in being threes. Until 
 then any attempt to teach him numbers must result in 
 failure. When also can a pupil study technical grammar 
 intelligently ? When he can form the conceptions with 
 which it deals. But the only way we can learn when a 
 child can perceive numerical relations, or a boy form the 
 conceptions required in the study of technical grammar is 
 by actual investigation ; there is no a priori method. 
 
 How to Determine what is the Best Curriculum. - 
 
 But these are not the only kinds of question which the 
 study of individuals must answer. As the title of this 
 lesson is intended to suggest, the term child -study is 
 altogether too narrow to indicate the scope of the investi- 
 gations that must contribute essential results to the science 
 of education. Compare the courses of study of three
 
 39O THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 typical institutions: Harvard, Yale, and Stanford. What 
 is the reason for the fundamental differences between 
 them ? It is a difference of educational theories. The 
 Harvard theory apparently is based on two suppositions : 
 
 (1) that a primary purpose of education is to make a man 
 an expert in some department, on the ground, in part, that 
 the needs of modern life require that a man be capable of 
 rendering expert service to society, in part, on the ground 
 that a man who knows by his own experience what expert 
 knowledge is will have proper respect for it in other lines ; 
 
 (2) that the field in which a man's aptitudes best qualify 
 him to become an expert will be most reliably indicated 
 by his own unrestricted preferences. 
 
 We have already seen that respect for expert knowledge 
 is an indispensable part of a preparation for rational living. 
 Among the questions, therefore, which must be answered 
 before we have a right to a final opinion as to the wisdom 
 of the Harvard plan, are these : (i) Does the possession of 
 expert knowledge in one field give a man proper respect 
 for it in other fields ? (2) Are the unrestricted preferences 
 of students the most reliable indications of their special 
 aptitudes ? These, manifestly, are questions of fact, ques- 
 tions which can not be answered in any a priori way. We 
 can answer them only by a careful and comprehensive 
 study of results. 
 
 Importance of Discovering a Child's Special Gift. 
 
 We can further illustrate the necessity of the study of 
 individuals by a quotation from the article already cited. 
 "Another important function of the public school in a 
 democracy," says President Eliot, " is the discovery and 
 development of the gift or capacity of each individual
 
 A CHILD'S SPECIAL GIFT. 
 
 child. This discovery should be made at the earliest 
 practicable age, and once made, should always influence 
 and sometimes determine, the education of the individual' 
 is for the interest of society to make the most of every 
 useful gift or faculty which any member may fortunately 
 possess; and it is one of the main advantages of fluent 
 and mobile democratic society that it is more likely than 
 any other society to secure the fruition of individual 
 capacities. To make the most of any individual's peculiar 
 power, it is important to discover it early, and then train 
 it continuously and assiduously. ... In the ideal demo- 
 cratic school no two children would follow the same course 
 of study or have the same tasks, except that they would 
 all need to learn the use of the elementary tools of educa- 
 tion reading, writing, and ciphering. The different 
 children would hardly have any identical needs. . . . The 
 perception or discovery of the individual gift or capacity 
 would often be effected in the elementary school, but more 
 generally in the secondary ; and the making of these dis- 
 coveries should be held one of the most important parts of 
 the teacher's work. . . . There is no such thing as equality 
 of gifts, or powers, or faculties, among either children or 
 adults; on the contrary, there is the utmost diversity; and 
 education and all the experience of life increase these 
 diversities, because school and the earning of a livelihood, 
 and the reaction of the individual upon his surroundings, 
 all tend strongly to magnify innate diversities. The pre- 
 tended democratic school with an inflexible programme is 
 fighting not only against nature, but against the interests 
 of democratic society. Flexibility of programme should 
 begin in the elementary school years before the period of 
 secondary education is reached. There should be some
 
 392 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 choice of subjects of study by ten years of age ; and much 
 variety by fifteen years of age. On the other hand, the 
 programmes of elementary as well as of secondary schools 
 should represent fairly the chief divisions of knowledge, 
 namely, language and literature, mathematics, natural 
 science, and history, besides drawing and music. If school 
 programmes fail to represent the main varieties of intel- 
 lectual activity, they will not afford the means of discover- 
 ing the individual gifts and tendencies of pupils." What- 
 ever differences some of us may feel with respect to 
 details, I think we shall all agree that one of the important 
 functions of education is to help pupils discover what they 
 are best fitted to do, and this function can only be per- 
 formed by schools which lay great emphasis upon the 
 study of individuals. 
 
 Extension of Study of Individuals by Means of 
 History. These illustrations, taken almost at random, 
 have enabled us to realize how not only the science, but 
 the art of education depends largely upon the study of 
 individuals. If we extend this individual study by means 
 of history, we shall find conceptions of the human mind 
 constantly modified in a suggestive and helpful way. The 
 sluggish Oriental, the intellectual Athenian, the super- 
 stitious knight of the Middle Ages, are so many different 
 forms into which our common human nature has been 
 carved by that marvelous sculptor education. The 
 teacher who studies history from the point of view of 
 Psychology will not only find himself in possession of 
 constantly growing and useful and inspiring knowl- 
 edge of historical facts, but he will find his knowledge 
 of the human mind enlarging, and his realization of the
 
 QUESTIONS. 393 
 
 almost omnipotence of education ever growing more 
 vivid. 
 
 Summary. We may sum up the benefits which a 
 study of children, or of individuals, as I prefer to state it, 
 may render to the teacher as follows : (i) It will help him 
 see at what stage in the development of his pupils the 
 various subjects which pupils should study should be taken 
 up ; (2) it will help him in determining how much pupils 
 can learn ; (3) it will help him decide how much work can 
 be safely required of pupils ; (4) it will help him discover 
 the special gifts of pupils ; and (5) it will help him at 
 every step in his work by helping him to ascertain what 
 his pupils know of the subjects he is trying to teach. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 
 
 1 . What was the character of the first study of Pedagogy in this 
 country ? 
 
 2. How is it studied now ? 
 
 3. Mention some of the cautions which you should bear in mind 
 in studying children. 
 
 4. Mention some of the things to be observed. 
 
 5. Mention some of the questions to be asked in learning the 
 contents of children's minds. 
 
 6. Can you study Psychology in history ? 
 
 7. State at length the benefits to be derived from the systematic 
 study of children.
 
 APPENDIX A. 
 
 THE case mentioned illustrates a dangerous tendency 
 in our most highly organized schools the tendency to 
 forget the individual in the multitude. In our zeal for 
 organization, we are in danger of losing sight of the fact 
 that the school exists for the individual, not the .individual 
 for the school. However hard it may be to draw the line 
 in practice, the principle is perfectly clear. Whenever it 
 is evident that the individual will be injured by conforming 
 to the requirements that are supposed to be good for the 
 multitude, he should be excused from them. Society has 
 too great an interest in the best possible education of all 
 its members to justify the sacrifice of any of them to the 
 demands of an unattainable and therefore impracticable 
 ideal. 
 
 APPENDIX B. 
 
 WHEN it is remembered that the inferential method 
 may base its inferences on facts obtained in a variety of 
 ways, it is easy to see that there may be various subdivi- 
 sions of it. When its facts are obtained by comparing 
 animals with human beings, it is called the comparative 
 method ; when by experiment as when we ascertain 
 how long a time elapses from the contact of an object with 
 any part of the body to the sensation it is called the 
 experimental method, and so on. 
 
 394
 
 INDEX. 
 
 ABILITY to apprehend relations, 
 
 389- 
 
 Acquired reflexes, 50. 
 Actions, 191. 
 automatic, 49. 
 centres of automatic, 50. 
 reflex, 49. 
 voluntary, 50. 
 voluntary, reflex and semi-reflex, 
 
 42. 
 
 Activity, intellectual, 301. 
 Adaptation and interest, 136. 
 
 law of, 137. 
 
 Affirmative and negative judg- 
 ments, 315. 
 conclusions, 330. 
 American crow-bar case, 20. 
 Analogy, argument from, 344. 
 Animal intelligence, 324, 325. 
 Animals, experiments upon lower, 
 
 20. 
 experiments upon the cortex of 
 
 different, 56. 
 removal of parts of the brain of, 
 
 59- 
 
 souls in, 65. 
 
 Ant, intelligence of, 324. 
 Antagonism or opposition of know- 
 ing, feeling, willing, 155. 
 Antecedents of sensations are phys- 
 ical facts, 165. 
 the four, 166. 
 Aphasia, 22, 60, 61. 
 
 motor, 23. 
 Apperception, 346. 
 
 defined, 352. 
 
 Application of association of ideas 
 in cultivating the memory, 
 238, 243. 
 
 Argument from analogy, 344. 
 
 uncertainty of, 345. 
 Arnold, Dr., quoted, 269. 
 Ascetism, 194. 
 Assimilation and discrimination, 
 
 different kinds of, 349. 
 Association fibres, 39. 
 Association of ideas, 196. 
 
 application of, in cultivating the 
 memory, 238, 243. 
 
 by contiguity, 197, 202. 
 
 by logic, 198. 
 
 by similarity, 197, 202, 238. 
 
 difference between, and judg- 
 ment, 312. 
 
 difference between mechanical 
 and logical, 198. 
 
 explanation of the, 205. 
 
 fundamental law of, 205. 
 
 illustrated, 196. 
 
 mechanical, 197. 
 
 physical basis of, 205. 
 Attention, 103, 130. 
 
 and discipline, 145. 
 
 and feeling, 106. 
 
 and memory, 104. 
 
 and reasoning, 105. 
 
 and recollection, 105. 
 
 and volition, 107. 
 
 concentrated, 107. 
 
 conditions of non-voluntary, 1 18. 
 
 conditions of voluntary, 1 1 2. 
 
 defined, no. 
 
 importance of, 107. 
 
 non-voluntary, and physical con- 
 dition, 121. 
 
 novelty a non-voluntary, 1 19. 
 
 power of, 137. 
 
 rules foi getting, 130. 
 
 395
 
 396 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Attention continued. 
 
 the will and voluntary, 122. 
 training of, 107. 
 
 two causes of non-voluntary, 114. 
 very young children incapable 
 
 of voluntary, 113. 
 voluntary, and interest, 121. 
 voluntary and non-voluntary, 
 
 112. 
 voluntary and non-voluntary, 
 
 necessary, 131. 
 voluntary attention developed 
 
 by non-voluntary, 115. 
 Authority, beliefs on, 187. 
 Automatic or reflex actions, 44, 49. 
 
 centres of, 50. 
 Automatic theory, 44. 
 
 BAGEHOT, Walter, quoted, 320. 
 Bain, Professor, quoted, 89, 1 1 3, 1 1 4, 
 
 190, 191. 
 
 Basis of habit, 188. 
 Bateman, Dr., quoted, 22. 
 Belief and imagination, 265. 
 Beliefs, necessary, 86, 90. 
 Blood, supply of, to the brain, 18. 
 Bodies, knowledge of our, 73. 
 Body and brain, 18. 
 
 and mind, 16. 
 Books, 144. 
 
 are only means to ends, 229. 
 Brain and body, 18. 
 
 and mind, 17, 20. 
 
 area of, 35. 
 
 correspondence between size and 
 weight of, and intelligence^. 
 
 cortex of, 35. 
 
 effect of mental action on the, 16. 
 
 gray and white matter of the, 32. 
 
 gray matter of the, 55. 
 
 Greek philosophers' opinion 
 about the, 17. 
 
 is the organ of the mind, 20. 
 
 landmarks of the, 36. 
 
 local disease of, 59. 
 
 removal of parts of the, of ani- 
 mals, 57. 
 
 size and weight of, 23. 
 
 supply of blood to the, 18. 
 
 weight of, 35. 
 Brown, Thomas, quoted, 203. 
 
 CARPENTER, quoted, 103, 106, 145. 
 Central nervous system, number of 
 
 nerve cells in the, 26. 
 Centres of automatic action, 50. 
 Cerebellum, 32, 50, 51, 52. 
 Cerebral cortex, 32. 
 Cerebral functions, located in the 
 cortex, 54. 
 
 localization of, 20. 
 Cerebrum, 32, 35, 45, 53. 
 
 and intelligence, 53. 
 
 functions of, 53, 54. 
 
 injuries of, 53. 
 Character, Dr. Dewey's definition of, 
 
 373- 
 
 Chess-players, blindfolded, 168. 
 Child, experiment upon a, 115. 
 how he distinguishes his body 
 from the rest of the external 
 world, 73. 
 importance of the discovery of 
 
 the capacity of each, 390. 
 Children, doctrine of apperception 
 shows the necessity of study- 
 ing, 3 8 7. 
 
 importance of the study of, 384. 
 mental life of very young, 113. 
 study of, 84. 
 
 very young, incapable of volun- 
 tary attention, 113. 
 Children's curiosity, 142. 
 judgments, 316. 
 minds, contents of, 387. 
 reasoning, 340. 
 
 Comenius, quoted, 13, 39, 131. 
 Commissural fibres, 39. 
 Compayre, quoted, 249. 
 Complexity of knowledge, 354. 
 Concentration of thought, and the 
 
 will, 123. 
 
 interfered with, 77. 
 Conception, 273. 
 
 Concept, abstraction in the, 290, 292. 
 assimilation and discrimination 
 
 in, 348. 
 
 changes in, 283. 
 comparison in the, 290, 292. 
 defined, 273, 284. 
 faulty, 285. 
 formation of, 274, 281, 283, 305, 
 
 339-
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Concept continued. 
 
 generalization in the, 275, 283, 
 290, 292. 
 
 perception in the, 305. 
 
 real and vital, 298. 
 
 voluntary and involuntary, 285. 
 Concepts, three steps toward the 
 
 knowledge of, 281. 
 Conclusions, affirmative, 330. 
 
 true and false, 329. 
 Conditions of non-voluntary atten- 
 tion, 1 1 8. 
 
 of voluntary attention, 112. 
 Conscious knowledge, 97. 
 Consciousness, 17, 98. 
 
 and the brain, 17. 
 
 of power, 143. 
 
 of self, 100. 
 Cortex, 53. 
 
 and intelligence, 53. 
 
 and motor fibres, 38. 
 
 and sensory fibres, 37. 
 
 a system of organs, 37. 
 
 cerebral functions located in the, 
 
 54- 
 
 experiments upon the, of ani- 
 mals, 56. 
 
 of the cerebrum closely con- 
 nected with intelligence, 35. 
 stimulation of a definite part of 
 
 the, 57. 
 
 Cortical centre, change in, 169. 
 Crow-bar case, American, 20. 
 Curiosity in children, 142. 
 
 DAVIDSON, Professor, quoted, 127, 
 
 250, 381, 382. 
 
 Deductions, practical, 375. 
 Development, nature of, 4, 364. 
 
 symmetrical, 365. 
 Dewey, Dr., quoted, 375, 377- 
 
 on promotion, 377. 
 Dewey's conception and that of the 
 ancient Greeks, 374. 
 
 definition of character, 373. 
 Discipline and attention, 145. 
 Distinctions of fact and distinctions 
 
 of worth, 127. 
 Dog, intelligence of, 325. 
 Drawing, 231. 
 
 and memory of form, 243. 
 
 EAR, 31. 
 
 Edinger, quoted, 39. 
 
 Education and perception, 224. 
 
 democratic, 383. 
 
 Huxley, Professor, on, 365. 
 
 object of, 379. 
 
 object of, defined, 124, 130. 
 
 problem of, 227. 
 
 the end of, 373. 
 
 value of an, 133. 
 Educational value of geography, 
 134. 
 
 of science, 135. 
 Efferent impulses, 48. 
 Effort, 193. 
 Eliot, President, quoted, 370, 383, 
 
 390- 
 
 Emotions, possession of a certain 
 responsiveness of the, 381. 
 
 Emulation, 160. 
 
 Energy, muscular, 147. 
 
 Enthusiasm, power of, 138. 
 
 Ethics, physiological study of men- 
 tal conditions an ally of, 194. 
 
 Experiment upon a child, 1 15. 
 
 Experiments upon lower animals, 20. 
 upon the cortex of different ani- 
 mals, 56. 
 with the brain, 20. 
 
 Explanation of the association of 
 ideas, 205. 
 
 Eye, 31. 
 
 FACTS, psychical, 350. 
 Feeling, 153. 
 
 and attention, 106. 
 
 and knowledge, 153. 
 Fiske, John, quoted, 82. 
 Fitch, quoted, 8, 248. 
 Fostei, quoted, 44. 
 Fouillee, quoted, 237. 
 Freeman, quoted, 337. 
 
 GALTON, Sir Francis, quoted, 243, 
 
 258, 270. 
 
 Ganglia, large, or optic thalami, 32. 
 Garmo, Dr. De, quoted, 303, 362. 
 Geography and imagination, 269. 
 
 educational value of, 134. 
 Green, Professor S. S., quoted, 288, 
 
 296.
 
 398 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 HABIT, basis of, 188. 
 
 influence of, 201. 
 
 law of, 183. 
 
 Reid, Dr., on, 183. 
 Habits, 184. 
 
 bad, 185. 
 
 depend on what we do, 186. 
 
 moral, 190. 
 
 of reasoning, 187. 
 Hall, G. Stanley, quoted, 118. 
 Halleck, quoted, 242. 
 Hamilton, Sir William, quoted, 276. 
 Harlow, Dr., quoted, 21. 
 Health and memory, 242. 
 Herbartian conception, 373. 
 
 steps, 303. 
 
 Herbartians, their mistake, 158. 
 Hering, Professor E., on the func- 
 tions of the cerebrum, 61. 
 Hoffding, II., on children's judg- 
 ments, 320. 
 Hours of study, 46. 
 Huxley, Professor, on education, 
 365. 
 
 IDEAS and ideals, 125. 
 
 difference between, 126. 
 Ideas precede all progress, 293. 
 Image, 255. 
 Imagination, 255, 334, 368. 
 
 abuse of, 266. 
 
 and belief, 265. 
 
 and feelings, 264. 
 
 and geography, 269. 
 
 and reading, 270. 
 
 constructive, 256, 260, 263. 
 
 defined, 255. 
 
 different kinds of, 255. 
 
 in scientific investigation, 268. 
 
 reproductive, 256. 
 
 training of, 268. 
 Importance of attention, 107. 
 Impulses, efferent, 48. 
 Inattention, explanation of, 148. 
 Individuality and inattention, 150. 
 Individuals, the study of, 384. 
 Induction, 339. 
 
 danger in hasty, 342. 
 
 guiding principle in, 343. 
 Inferences, ethical and pedagogical, 
 189. 
 
 Initiative, 190. 
 
 Injuries of cerebrum, 53. 
 
 Injury of the brain impairs memory, 
 
 22. 
 
 Intellect, possession of a certain dis- 
 cipline of the, 381. 
 Intellectual activity, 301. 
 Intelligence and cerebrum, 53. 
 
 and cortex, 53. 
 
 animal, 324, 325. 
 
 corresponding to size and weight 
 
 of brain, 23. 
 Interest and adaptation, 136. 
 
 and voluntary attention, 121. 
 
 in our work essential to success, 
 
 '39- 
 
 Introspection becomes retrospec- 
 tion, 84. 
 
 JAMES, Professor, quoted, 23, 42, 58, 
 
 62, 189, 224, 325, 368. 
 Jevons, quoted, 344, 345. 
 Judgment, 305. 
 
 act of, illustrated, 306. 
 
 conscious, 307. 
 
 defined, 311. 
 
 difference between association 
 of ideas and, 312. 
 
 nature of act of, 310. 
 
 possible by the laws of associa- 
 tion, 306. 
 Judgments, 351. 
 
 affirmative and negative, 315. 
 
 children's, 316. 
 
 different kinds of, 314. 
 
 first appearance of conscious, 
 308. 
 
 Hoffding, H., on children's, 320. 
 
 implicit and explicit, 313. 
 
 of uneducated men, 317. 
 
 what they relate to, 308. 
 
 KEEN, Dr. W. W., quoted, 59. 
 Kepler, quoted, 135. 
 Knowing, feeling, willing, 152. 
 Knowledge, 209. 
 
 and feeling, 1 53. 
 
 a resultant of sensations, 209. 
 
 complexity of, 354. 
 
 conscious knowledge is certain, 
 97-
 
 INDEX. 
 
 399 
 
 Knowledge continued. 
 
 difference between knowledge o: 
 
 necessary truths and con 
 
 scious, 97. 
 expert, 382. 
 
 nature of conscious, 95. 
 need of a criterion of, 5. 
 of laws of nature, n. 
 of our bodies, 73. 
 possession of a certain kind of, 
 
 38i. 
 simple, 360. 
 
 LADD, Professor, quoted, 23, 237. 
 Language, purposes of, 291. 
 Law of adaptation, 137. 
 Law of association of ideas, funda- 
 mental, 205. 
 Law of hakit, 183. 
 
 in nervous system, 205. 
 
 is a material law, 193. 
 Law of parsimony, 342. 
 Law, Weber's, 179. 
 Laws of mind, 78. 
 Laws of nature, knowledge of, n. 
 Leibniz, quoted, 235. 
 Lindner, quoted, in, 235. 
 Localization of mental functions, 
 
 meaning of, 54. 
 Locke, quoted, 146. 
 Lombard, Dr., quoted, 19. 
 
 MANNING, Archbishop, quoted, 146. 
 Martin, Professor, quoted, 29, 42, 
 
 59- 
 Material wholes and thought wholes, 
 
 358. 
 Matter, gray and white, of the brain, 
 
 32. 
 Mechanical memory, 4, 246, 249. 
 
 nature of reflex actions, 43. 
 Mechanism of reflex action illus- 
 trated, 45. 
 of voluntary action illustrated, 
 
 46. 
 
 Medulla oblongata, 37, 50, 51. 
 Memory, 4, 234, 368. 
 and attention, 104. 
 and health, 242. 
 
 assimilation and discrimination 
 in, 347- 
 
 Memory continued. 
 different kinds of, 247. 
 elements of, 234. 
 images, 239. 
 impairment of, due to injury of 
 
 the brain, 22. 
 mechanical, 4, 246, 249. 
 often excellent in the uneducated, 
 
 246. 
 
 physical basis of, 236, 242. 
 powers involved in, 235. 
 remarkable, of Chinamen, 4. 
 universal cultivation of the, 248. 
 Memory culture, 242, 248. 
 by interest, 242, 245. 
 by logic, 243, 251. 
 by visualizing, 243. 
 Mental facts, 173. 
 
 and physical facts, 72. 
 definition of, 69. 
 in which Psychology is inter- 
 ested, 77. 
 nature of, 74. 
 unconscious, 69, 75. 
 Mental life of very young children, 
 
 "3- 
 
 Method, difficulties of the inferen- 
 tial, 82. 
 difficulties of the introspective, 
 
 S3- 
 
 the inferential, 79. 
 the inferential, and the study of 
 
 history, 80. 
 the inferential, and the study of 
 
 our own minds, 81. 
 the introspective, 79, 86. 
 the objective, 294, 296, 297, 
 
 33- 
 what we can learn by means of 
 
 the introspective, 86. 
 Methods, good and bad, 376. 
 
 the introspective and inferential, 
 serve to study mental facts, 
 86. 
 to be used in dealing with the 
 
 mind, 1 1. 
 used in dealing with objects in 
 
 the material world, 10. 
 VIeynert's postulate, 62. 
 Will, J. S., quoted, 191. 
 Vlilton, quoted, 225.
 
 400 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Mind and body, 16. 
 
 and brain, 17, 20. 
 
 and soul, no difference between, 
 68. 
 
 change in, due to injury of the 
 brain, 21. 
 
 dealing with the, n. 
 
 difference between the, and a 
 natural agent, 12. 
 
 laws of, 78. 
 
 meaning of, 68. 
 
 play of the, 300. 
 Mnemonics, 168. 
 Moral habits, 190. 
 Mosso's table, 19. 
 Motor fibres and the cortex, 38. 
 
 NATURK, dealing with, 10. 
 
 of development, 364. 
 Necessary truths, reasons for study- 
 ing the nature of, 95. 
 Nerve cells, 26. 
 
 and nerve fibres, 26. 
 
 forms of, 26. 
 
 number of, in brain, 26. 
 Nerve centres, function of, 47. 
 Xerve fibres and nerve cells, con- 
 stituents of, 26. 
 
 functions of, 29. 
 
 number of sensory, 26. 
 Nerves, 17. 
 
 afferent and efferent, 30, 34. 
 
 and tendons, 25. 
 
 auditory, 31, 165, 169. 
 
 number of, entering the spinal 
 cord, 34. 
 
 olfactory, 31. 
 
 optic, 31, 1 66. 
 
 sensory and motor, 41, 171. 
 Nervous impulse, nature of a, 41. 
 Nervous system, central, 25. 
 
 changes in, not followed by sen- 
 sation, 178. 
 
 functions of, 28, 41. 
 
 law of habit in, 205. 
 
 sensations depend on, 177. 
 
 the unit of the, 27. 
 Nose, 31. 
 
 Number of nerve cells in the cen- 
 tral nervous system, 26. 
 
 of nerve fibres, 26. 
 
 OBJECT lessons, 232. 
 
 Objective facts, sounds and colors 
 as, 174. 
 
 Objective method, 303. 
 
 Objects in the material world, meth- 
 ods used in dealing with, 10. 
 
 Observation, how to cultivate, 228. 
 importance of the training of, 
 
 227. 
 
 powers of, of the North American 
 Indians, 4. 
 
 Opposition or antagonism of know- 
 ing, feeling, willing, 155. 
 
 PAIX, 96. 
 
 Parsimony, law of, 342. 
 Pedagogical principle, 358. 
 Pedagogical study, change in, 385. 
 Perception, 208. 
 
 and education, 224. 
 
 assimilation and discrimination 
 in, 346. 
 
 books hinder, 229. 
 
 by differences, 279. 
 
 by hearing, 218. 
 
 by sight, 212, 221. 
 
 by smell, 212. 
 
 by taste, 213. 
 
 by touch, 25, 218, 221. 
 
 depends upon attention, 104. 
 
 directions for, 232. 
 
 sensations translated by, into 
 knowledge, 209. 
 
 three steps in, 216. 
 Percept and concept, 305. 
 Percepts, 351. 
 Perez, quoted, 278. 
 Pestalozzi, quoted, 14, 148, 292, 293. 
 Pestalozzi's reform, 293. 
 Physical and mental facts, 72. 
 Physical condition and non-volun- 
 tary attention, 121. 
 Physical facts, antecedents of sen- 
 sations are, 165. 
 Physiological Psychology, 16. 
 
 on localization of functions, 20, 
 54, 63. 
 
 on pain, 25. 
 
 problem of, 61. 
 
 suggestions of, 367. 
 Physiological study, 194.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 401 
 
 Power, consciousness of, 143. 
 
 of attention, 137. 
 Premises, different, 332. 
 Preparation for rational living, 379. 
 
 of object lessons, 232. 
 Preyer, Professor, quoted, 115. 
 Primary teaching, revolution in, 
 
 149. 
 
 Principle, pedagogical, 358. 
 Psychical facts, 350. 
 Psychology and education, 386. 
 
 and teaching, 9. 
 
 benefits of, i. 
 
 defined, i, 65, 76. 
 
 interested in certain mental facts, 
 77- 
 
 problem of Physiological, 61. 
 
 reasons for studying, i, 3. 
 
 study of, develops power of 
 thought, i. 
 
 the method of, 77. 
 
 the subject matter of, 72. 
 
 QUICK, quoted, 160. 
 
 RATIONAL living, 379. 
 Reasoning, 320, 369. 
 
 and attention, 105. 
 
 assimilation and discrimination 
 in, 349. 
 
 associational, 323. 
 
 deductive and inductive, 326, 331 . 
 
 defined, 322. 
 
 difference between inductive and 
 deductive, 329. 
 
 from particular to particular, 326. 
 
 habits of, 187. 
 
 of children, 321. 
 
 training of, 336. 
 Recollection and attention, 105. 
 Recollections, 351. 
 Reflex actions, 49. 
 
 mechanical nature of, 43. 
 Reflexes, acquired, 50. 
 Reid, Dr., on habit, 183. 
 
 quoted, 258. 
 
 Relations, ability to apprehend, 389. 
 Ribot, quoted, 236. 
 Romanes, G. )., quoted, 324. 
 Rules for getting attention, 130. 
 for teaching, 130. 
 
 SCHOOL lessons, 144. 
 School programmes, 147. 
 Science, educational value of, 135. 
 Sensation, 163. 
 
 and attention, 103. 
 
 assimilation and discrimination 
 in, 346. 
 
 defined, 171. 
 
 examples of, 169. 
 
 in amputated limb, 101. 
 
 of sound, 165. 
 Sensations, 350. 
 
 antecedents of, 164. 
 
 characteristics of the first, 210. 
 
 depend on nervous system, 177. 
 
 depend upon attention, 103. 
 
 knowledge a resultant of, 209. 
 
 knowledge begins with, 208. 
 
 local qualities of, 218. 
 
 localized, 217. 
 
 of sight and seeing, 171. 
 
 through hearing, 218. 
 
 through sight, 212, 221. 
 
 through smell, 212. 
 
 through taste, 213. 
 
 through touch, 25, 218, 221. 
 Sense organs, nature of the, 30. 
 Senses, what they tell us of objects, 
 
 212. 
 
 Sensory fibres and the cortex, 37. 
 Sidgwick, Arthur, quoted, 138. 
 Similarity, association of ideas by, 
 
 197, 202, 238. 
 
 Size and weight of brain, 23. 
 Smell, sensations through, 212. 
 Socrates, quoted, 188. 
 Soul, no difference between, and 
 mind, 68. 
 
 immortality of, 187. 
 Souls in animals, 65. 
 Spencer, quoted, 382. 
 Spinal cord, 32, 51. 
 
 number of nerves entering, 34. 
 Study, hours of, 146. 
 Success, conditions of, 8. 
 Sully, James, quoted, 184, 215, 266. 
 
 TAINE, quoted, 168. 
 Tate, quoted, 253. 
 Teaching, 127. 
 
 and Psychology, 9.
 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Teaching 
 
 good, 159. 
 nature o: 
 
 revolution in primary, 149. 
 rules for. 130. 
 Temporal signs, 240. 
 Theory, the automatic, 44. 
 Thought, the study of Psychology 
 develops power of, i. 
 MC Animal Intelligence. Be- 
 lief, Concept, Deduction, In- 
 duction, Judgment. Knowl- 
 edge, Reasoning.) 
 Thought wholes in arithmetic. 
 Thoughts, concentration of, 103. 
 Thring, Edward, quoted, 108, no. 
 Time, idea of, 3 
 Training of attention, 107. 
 
 of imagination, 2& 
 Truth, love of, 53(61 
 Truths, necessary, 86. 
 
 necessity of necessary, 90. 
 
 UineoKSCiocs mental facts, 69, 75. 
 
 VISUALIZING in training memory, 
 
 -43- 
 
 \ olition and attention, 107. 
 Volkman on teaching, 159. 
 
 Voluntary actions, 50. 
 
 and involuntary concept. 
 
 and non-voluntary attention, 1 1 2. 
 
 attention and interest, 121. 
 
 attention developed by non- 
 voluntary attention, 115. 
 
 reflex and semi-reflex actions. 
 4-- 
 
 WARP, quoted, 211, 239. 
 Weber's law, 179. 
 Weight of braii- 
 ill, 122. 
 and concentration of thought, 
 
 i-3- 
 
 and voluntary attention, 122. 
 in developing character, 190. 
 influence of the, upon imagina- 
 tion, _;$. 
 possession of a certain training 
 
 of the, 
 Willing, 153. 
 Wit. ^46. 
 Words, blind use of. : 
 
 do not convey thoughts, 288. 
 Wundt, Professor Wilhelm, quoted, 
 179- 
 
 ZIEHEN. Professor Theodor, quoted, 
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