-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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