m V\; 
 
 UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO 
 Donated in memory of 
 
 John W. Snvder 
 
 by 
 
 His Son and Daughter 


 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANDIE00
 
 PSYCHOLOGY 
 
 AND 
 
 PSYCHIC CULTURE 
 
 BY 
 
 REUBEN POST HALLECK, M.A. (YALE) 
 
 PRINCIPAL LOUISVILLE MALE HIGH SCHOOL; AUTHOR OF "THE EDUCATION OF TH 
 CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM*' 
 
 NEW YORK- : CINCINNATI : CHICAGO 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 HXLLKCK'S PSYCHOLOGY. 
 E-P 83
 
 ratrfullg 
 to
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 FOR several years the author has taught psychology 
 under conditions which necessitated its presentation in as 
 plain and as interesting a manner as possible. He has 
 endeavored to impose the same conditions upon himself 
 in writing this book. Psychological text-books have too 
 often been a bundle of abstractions. It seems as if the 
 human mind ought to have qualities that would interest 
 the average person, whether young or old. After consider- 
 able experience, the author can testify that the leading 
 truths of psychology can be given in an intelligible way to 
 pupils under the age of twenty. He has aimed in this 
 volume to present as much of the science as the general 
 student will need. 
 
 Especial effort has been made to enliven the hard and 
 dry facts of the science by employing illustrations and 
 anecdotes to elucidate them. No one knows better than 
 the psychologist that it is of little use to present the best 
 of subjects in an unattractive way, because facts devoid 
 of interesting features will not secure the attention. 
 
 The chapters on the application of psychological laws 
 in the cultivation of the mental powers are a characteristic 
 feature of this work. Laws are of little use unless they 
 are applied ; hence these chapters are of the utmost impor- 
 tance to all who have not passed the plastic age. Psychol- 
 ogy, in order to be most effective for self -improvement, 
 
 5
 
 6 PREFACE. 
 
 should be studied while the brain is still plastic, and 
 hence earlier than is sometimes customary. By the age of 
 thirty, a ton of effort will be required to effect a change 
 which a pound could have secured earlier. It has been the 
 constant purpose of the author in this work to make the 
 study practically useful to the student. 
 
 This volume aims to present the latest ascertained facts 
 of physiological, as well as of introspective, psychology. 
 The student ought not to neglect the brief essentials of 
 physiological psychology, for they will help him on the 
 introspective side. No one can have a clear idea of the 
 nervous mechanism at the threshold of will power, unless 
 he can image a sensory stimulus flowing along an afferent 
 nerve, pouring into a ganglion cell, and being reflected out- 
 ward along a motor nerve. The few leading physiological 
 facts, necessary to give the average person a groundwork 
 for his images of the physical accompaniments of mental 
 action, are very easily learned. 
 
 In some quarters an attempt has been made to present 
 psychology without classification. This attempt has not 
 proved successful, for no one has been able to avoid the 
 terms which get all their meaning from the implied truths 
 of classification. The student who begins the study of 
 psychology in such a way will certainly be confused. 
 
 The author acknowledges indebtedness to much of the 
 current literature on the subject, and to some of his former 
 instructors at Yale. On the side of physiological psychol- 
 ogy, the writer must thank, for repeated help in dissecting 
 the brain and nervous system, the scholarly Demonstrator 
 of Anatomy in the Louisville Medical College, Dr. August 
 Schachner. 
 
 R. P. H.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TAGB 
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM AT THE DISPOSAL OF THE MIND . 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 CONSCIOUSNESS AND AITENTION 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 PRESENTATION 56 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE CULTIVATION OF PERCEPTION 89 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 REPRESENTATION . 101 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY 132 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE 150
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THOUGHT 180 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THOUGHT CULTURE 222 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 FEELING AND EMOTION 239 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS 285 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE WILL 299 
 
 v 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL 348 
 
 INDEX 361
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC 
 CULTURE. 
 
 TV 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM AT THE DISPOSAL OF THE MIND 
 
 The Scope and Importance of Psychology. Psychology 
 is a scientific study of the mind. All sciences presuppose 
 the fact that the mind is subject to certain uniform laws; 
 for all sciences are products of the mind. Mathematics, 
 the laws of physics, the theories of evolution and of 
 material philosophy, are mental products. If memory 
 and thought work to-day differently from yesterday, we 
 cannot depend on the results of our reasoning powers 
 in any of the sciences. It is the important task of psy- 
 chology to investigate mental laws. 
 
 All processes that affect and condition consciousness 
 are, from one point of view or another, the subject matter 
 of psychology. The mental powers cannot be trained 
 intelligently without a knowledge of psychological laws. 
 
 Dependence of the Mind upon the Nervous System. 
 Marvelous as are the mind's achievements, we must note 
 that it is as completely dependent upon the nervous system 
 
 9
 
 10 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 as is a plant upon sun, rain, and air. Suppose that a child 
 of intelligent parents were ushered into the world without 
 a nerve leading from his otherwise perfect brain to any 
 portion of his body, with no optic nerve to transmit the 
 glorious sensations from the eye, no auditory nerve to 
 conduct the vibrations of the mother's voice, no tactile 
 nerves to convey the touch of a hand, no olfactory nerve 
 to rouse the brain with the delicate aroma from the or- 
 chards and the wild flowers in spring, no gustatory, ther- 
 mal, or muscular nerves. Could such a child live, as the 
 years rolled on, the books of Shakespeare and of Milton 
 would be opened in vain before the child's eyes. The 
 wisest men might talk to him with utmost eloquence, all 
 to no purpose. Nature could not whisper one of her 
 inspiring truths into his deaf ear, could not light up that 
 dark mind with a picture of the rainbow or of a human 
 face. 
 
 No matter how perfect might be the child's brain and 
 his inherited capacity for mental activities, his faculties 
 would remain for this life shrouded in Egyptian darkness. 
 Perception could give memory nothing to retain, and 
 thought could not weave her matchless fabrics without 
 materials. 
 
 Since nothing conditions the mind at the very outset 
 more than the nervous system, it is necessary, before in- 
 vestigating the various mental activities, to turn our atten- 
 tion to the study of the nervous mechanism. 
 
 The Nervous System as a Transmitter of Stimuli. 
 
 / It is the business of the nervous system to transmit the 
 
 affections resulting from internal or external stimuli. .-'This 
 
 function of reporting stimuli may be compared with the 
 
 machinery of an associated press agency, which gathers the
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. II 
 
 news of the world. The manager may be sitting on a dark 
 night in his office in New York or London. He cannot see 
 what is taking place in the rest of the world, but there 
 is a click of the telegraph instrument, and he learns 
 that an ocean steamer has been wrecked on the Irish 
 coast. After a few moments' silence there is a sound 
 from a different instrument, and he knows that a noted 
 statesman is dead. Another instrument vibrates with a 
 message that a certain city cannot be heard from. An 
 earthquake or a cyclone is suspected, and people are 
 anxious about their friends. The manager himself sends 
 a dispatch asking for news, and he now illustrates the 
 second capacity of the nervous system, that of transmit- 
 ting commands by its own peculiar automatic power. But 
 he telegraphs in vain, for the wires leading to the city are 
 broken. 
 
 These telegraph wires are analogous to the nerves of 
 the ear, eye, and other senses. It is the business of these 
 nerves to report what is taking place in their own special 
 world. The brain in its dark chamber can receive dis- 
 patches from them alone. If a man loses his sight, the 
 optic nerves bring in no further news, and the case is 
 similar to that of the distant city whose telegraphic com- 
 munication has been broken by an earthquake or a cyclone. 
 
 We may liken the human brain to the manager of the 
 news agency, for the nervous currents flow into the brain 
 in a way analogous to that in which news is transmitted 
 to him. Suppose there is in a room over this manager 
 the editor of a great daily paper which receives its news 
 from this association. The editor may suppress or color 
 certain items. He may, from meager dispatches, draw 
 inferences concerning the future of a party or the harm 
 likely to be inflicted by a certain measure. This editor
 
 12 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 would typify the active powers of the mind in its functions 
 of imagination and thought. 
 
 Neurones. The uj^it of the nervous system is called the 
 neurone. This term designates both the cell body and all 
 its outgrowths. Hence, the neurone includes, (i) a body 
 of protoplasmic matter, sometimes called a nerve cell, and 
 
 * ^^^i^M^^B BMB ^BBBBMMM 
 
 (2) alloutyrflTTthl frtrn tf*"t "-" The principal outgrowth 
 is called an axone. The term n^riM &tL r is frequently 
 applied to ajijixone, when it is considered by itself, apart 
 from the cell. No harm can come from speaking of these 
 axones as "nerve fibers " or from applying the term nerves 
 to collections of two or more nerve fibers, if we remember 
 that in every case they are outgrowths of nerve cells and 
 that the term neurone is applied to both the cell and all 
 its branches and that they together form a unit of the 
 nervous system. 
 
 Of the importance of these neurones, Dr. M. Allen Starr 
 says, ^However complex the act, the physical basis of a\\ 
 nervous and mental diseases is the interaction of a seriesj 
 of neurones." The researches of rjsychiatrists have shown 
 that a comparatively slight deviation from the normal de- 
 velopment of certain brain neurones results in deficient 
 intelligence or in some form of insanity. 
 
 The Nerves. The nerves traverse every region of the 
 body, just as telegraph wires thread a continent. Without 
 some such method of transmission, the sensations of sight, 
 hearing, touch, and the other special senses could, as we 
 have seen, never reach the brain, nor, could commands, 
 such as to move the muscles, be sent out from it. 
 
 What seems to the eye a single nerve is frequently com- 
 posed of an enormous number of nerve fibers. A patient
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 
 
 German counted, in the anterior nerve roots branch- 
 ing from a frog's spinal cord, over 11,000 separate 
 nerve fibers. Each one of these is often well insulated 
 by, a sheath. Here we find another 
 resemblance to a telegraphic appli- 
 ance, for a great number of insulated 
 wires often issue from a building in 
 the same tube. There is not a single 
 city with as many telegraph wires en- 
 tering it as there are nerves running 
 into the spinal cord and brain. Nerve 
 fibers vary in size from about 73*5-5- to 
 to" 6*0 oo of an inch in diameter. 
 
 When a toe is injured, a fire is 
 seen, or a sound is heard, a message 
 flashes along the proper nerve fiber. FIG. i. - Nerve fibers. 
 The delivery of this message is f re- The dark interior portion 
 
 . . r . marked A, is the axis cylin- 
 
 quently but one part of the process. der . surrounding this dark 
 
 If some one stepped on our toes, the axis is the sheath. Adapt- 
 ed from M'Kendrick. 
 
 fact would not only be reported, but a 
 
 command would be sent to the muscles to move the foot 
 
 out of harm's way. 
 
 Afferent and Efferent Nerves. There are two classes of 
 nerves with different functions. These nerves are called 
 afferent (ad, to ; fero, carry) and efferent (ex, out ; fero). 
 An afferent nerve conveys a stimulus from some part of 
 the body to the central nervous system. An efferent 
 nerve transmits from this system either an incentive to 
 movement or some internally originated stimulus. Under 
 the class of afferent nerves are sensory nerves, which are 
 concerned in reporting sensations to the central nervous 
 system. Efferent nerves include motor nerves, whose
 
 14 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 function is to move the muscles of the body, under the 
 direction of the central nervous system. 
 
 It is more important for the physiologist than for the 
 psychologist to bear in mind that while afferent and effer- 
 ent nerves comprise all classes, sensory and motor nerves 
 do not, for there are nerves which regulate the size of the 
 blood vessels and the nourishment of the body, control the 
 secretions, and perform various other offices connected 
 with transmitting stimuli, which are neither sensory nor 
 motor. The psychologist is mainly concerned with sen- 
 sory and motor nerves. 
 
 FIG. 2. Pyramidal nerve cells found chiefly in the brain. M'Kendrick. 
 
 When a man is consciously hurt, the sensory nerve 
 reports the pain. The motor nerve carries a command to 
 get out of the way of the cause if possible. If there were 
 no motor nerves, a hand once clasped around a red-hot iron 
 could not drop the metal, although the pain might be intense. 
 The difference between the action of the motor and of the 
 sensory nerves is well shown by the effects of a drug called 
 curare. When the South American pierces his prey with 
 an arrow dipped in this poison, the motor nerves are pal- 
 sied, while the sensory nerves are unimpaired. In conse- 
 quence, the animal suffers acutely without being able to
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 
 
 move a muscle. If a vivisector should administer curare 
 to an animal, the sensory nerves would transmit all painful 
 sensations, and of course it would feel every wound, but 
 would be unable to stir because of palsied motor nerves. 
 
 FIG. 3. From a piece of spinal cord. A and B, ganglion cells ; D, axis 
 cylinder ; /, protoplasmic process ; c, neuroglia cells. Ranvier from Edingei-, 
 Am. Ed. 
 
 Nerve Cells and Ganglia. Nerve cells are bunches or 
 knots of protoplasmic nerve matter, connected with nerve 
 fibers. The nerve cells are of the most various shapes 
 cylindrical, caudate, pyramidal, etc. 
 
 A ganglion is an aggregation, or group, of nerve cells.
 
 l6 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Each ganglion is in some respects a little brain. The 
 spinal ganglia receive a sensory impulse and send out a 
 motor dispatch without calling on the brain. On page 18 
 is explained why the cooperation of these is necessary for 
 our mental as well as our physical welfare. 
 
 CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 The Spinal Cord. A cord of nervous matter leaves the 
 base of the skull and, protected by the spinal bones, extends 
 
 FIG. 4. Transverse section of the spinal cord ; in the center is the butterfly 
 form of the gray matter surrounded by the white matter. AR t anterior roots of 
 spinal nerves ; PR, posterior roots. Landois. 
 
 downward for about a foot and a half, in a person of aver- 
 age height. In front of the cord is a deep furrow, called 
 the anterior fissure ; in the rear is another groove, called 
 the posterior fissure. These two fissures extend so far into 
 the cord that they almost divide it into halves, leaving only 
 a narrow bridge of nerve matter like the connecting bar in
 
 THE NERVOUS MFCHANISM. 17 
 
 the letter H, or, more exactly, like two crescents joined 
 together. A transverse section of the spinal cord (see 
 Fig. 4) will show two kinds of nerve substance a butter- 
 fly-shaped mass of gray matter surrounded by white matter 
 The spinal cord gives off thirty-one pairs of spinal nerves, 
 which traverse various parts of the body. These nerves 
 spring in pairs at the same level from each side of the 
 
 FlG. 5. Different views of roots of the spinal nerves from regions of the neck. 
 The number i in each case indicates the anterior median fissure ; 2, the posterior 
 fissure : 3, anterior lateral depression for the anterior roots ; 4, posterior lateral 
 groove for the posterior roots ; 5 and 6, the anterior and posterior roots, respec- 
 tively ; 7, the united nerve formed by the junction of anterior and posterior roots. 
 Allen Thompson. 
 
 spinal cord. Each nerve has two roots, an anterior and a 
 posterior. At a little distance from the spinal cord these 
 roots unite in one bundle. If the foot were pricked, the 
 sensory impulse would enter the spinal cord by the poste- 
 
 HALLECt's PSYC, a
 
 1 8 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 rior root. The spinal ganglia would set free a motor 
 impulse, which would leave for the foot by the anterior 
 root of the nerve. If the posterior root of the nerve sup- 
 plying the foot were cut, the foot might be crushed without 
 a sensation of pain, but a motor impulse could be sent as 
 before. If the anterior, or motor, root were cut, the 
 application of a hot iron would cause as much pain as 
 ever, but the sufferer could not move the foot an inch 
 from the iron, no matter how great the pain. 
 
 A large part of the body is absolutely dependent upon 
 the integrity of the spinal cord for the transmission of sen- 
 sory and motor impulses. If a person's back is broken, 
 that part of the body supplied by nerves attached to the 
 spinal cord below the seat of injury is paralyzed. Such an 
 unfortunate might watch the amputation of his own leg with 
 as little feeling of pain as if the limb belonged to another 
 person. No act of will would suffice to move such a limb. 
 
 Reflex Action. Reflex nervous action is the result of 
 that power resident in nervous ganglia, which often uncon- 
 sciously causes many muscular and vital movements. The 
 spinal cord is largely made up of such masses of nervous 
 matter, which have sometimes been called "little brains." 
 If one were to prick the toe of a sleeper, the sensory nerve 
 at that point would report the fact to one of the lower spinal 
 nerve masses. This ganglion, without waiting to hear from 
 the brain, would issue a command to the motor nerve, and 
 the foot would be immediately withdrawn. Unless the 
 thrust were severe, the sleeper would not awake, nor would 
 he be conscious of pain or of the movement of his foot. 
 This nervous action is called reflex, because, when the 
 sensory nerve conveys an impulse to the ganglion, this im- 
 pulse is at once, and without the action of the will, reflected
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 
 
 back by a motor nerve. Thus the mind is not only saved 
 the trouble of attending to every little movement, but much 
 time is gained. After the child has learned the difficult art 
 of balancing himself on his feet, walking becomes largely a 
 reflex act. At first the child must center his whole atten- 
 tion on movements to balance the body. The man can 
 think out the most complex problems while walking, be- 
 cause the reflex 
 nervous centers 
 are superintend- 
 ing the balancing 
 process. 
 
 'Few men re- 
 member which 
 end of the collar 
 they button on 
 first, or which 
 shoe they put on 
 first; yet the re- 
 flex nerve center, 
 if left to itself, 
 has an invariable 
 order in executing 
 
 these movements^ FlG.6. Diagrammatic representation of reflex action. 
 
 ^nmp wrrpVirstfc ^ nerve is stimulated in the skin, and the sensory nerve 
 
 b transmits the sensation to the spinal nerve cell, which 
 
 have much more reflects back the impulse by the motor nerve, causing 
 
 reflex power than t ^ n ul t a h r e ^ aent There may be no knowledge of 
 man. The spinal 
 
 cord in such animals keeps its vitality for a long time after 
 decapitation, and the nerve masses in the cord have the 
 power to set the motor nerves in action, causing muscular 
 contraction. For this reason a decapitated snake will 
 squirm around in a lively manner if its tail is struck. The
 
 2O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 reason why fowls often flutter so violently after the fatal 
 stroke is because they are thrown roughly down. The 
 sensory nerves report the bruise or jar to a reflex center, 
 which agitates the motor nerves controlling the muscles 
 which would ordinarily move them out of harm's way If 
 beheaded fowls are laid down carefully on straw or some 
 soft substance, they will scarcely move. But if they should 
 be kicked a moment or two later, they will frequently 
 jump around in a lively manner. If acid is placed on the 
 side of a decapitated frog, the animal will, by reflex action, 
 bring its foot to the spot and try to brush the drop away. 
 Man also has something of this reflex power after death. 
 The pectoral muscle of a beheaded French criminal was 
 pinched, and the right hand v/as raised to the spot as if to 
 remove the cause of the injury. 
 
 The Medulla Oblongata. At its upper end the spinal 
 cord enlarges into the medulla oblongata, which is a reflex 
 center of a higher order than the spinal cord. The medulla 
 has more or less control of the sympathetic nervous system, 
 which regulates the heart, lungs, blood vessels, and various 
 abdominal organs. If the muscular contraction and ex- 
 pansion of the heart were under direct mental supervision, 
 a person might become so interested in something, or so 
 excited by an accident or unusual event, that he would 
 forget, until too late, to move the muscles of the heart. 
 The same might also be true of respiration. The medulla 
 has power to attend to these, without calling on the brain 
 and obtruding the unnecessary details on consciousness. 
 
 The Cerebellum. The cerebellum, or little brain, lying 
 above the medulla, is also a reflex center of a high order. 
 The cerebellum is the organ which coordinates muscular
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 21 
 
 movements necessary to balance the body while moving 
 through space. It has been found that whenever the cere- 
 bellum of animals is injured, their gait is affected. Exces- 
 sive injury renders walking impossible (i). 1 
 
 The Brain. Hitherto, in discussing the nervous system, 
 we have been speaking of reflex acts and the nerves of 
 
 FlG. 7. Side view of the brain in the skull. F is placed on the frontal lobes, 
 which extend back to K-R, the fissure of Rolando, and down to 5-5, the fissure of 
 Sylvius. T is placed on the temporal lobes, which lie below 5-5. P marks the 
 parietal lobes, which are behind the fissure of Rolando and extend downward to 
 fO, the parieto-occipital fissure. O is on the occipital lobes, which comprise the 
 lower rear part of the brain. The fissures of Rolando and Sylvius are the first 
 landmarks to be learned. 
 
 transmission. There is not the slightest mental element 
 about any of these reflex acts. An affection of the retina, 
 of the tympanum of the ear, or of the nerves of taste, is 
 not a mental phenomenon. Before the actions of the 
 
 1 See under " Authorities Quoted," at end of chapter.
 
 22 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 sensory nerves can become mental, they must report to 
 headquarters in the brain, in such a manner as to affect 
 consciousness. There is as much mental quality in the 
 picture on the plate in the camera as in the picture on 
 the optic retina. The vibrations of the aural tympanum 
 
 FIG. 8. Diagrammatic side view of brain, showing cerebellum, CB, and medulla 
 oblongata, MO. F lt F a , F a , are placed on the first, second, and third frontal con' 
 volutions ; AF, on the ascending frontal ; AP, on the ascending parietal ; M, on 
 the marginal ; A, on the angular. 7}, T 2 , T 8 , are placed on the first, second, and 
 third temporal convolutions ; O lt O 2 , O a , on the first, second, and third occipital 
 convolutions. R-R marks the fissure of Rolando ; 5-5, the fissure of Sylvius ; PO, 
 the parieto-occipital fissure. 
 
 are as purely mechanical a$ are those of a drum ; but the 
 eye and the ear have a brain connected with them, while 
 the camera and the drum have none. 
 
 The cerebrum, or large brain, occupies the greater part
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 23 
 
 of the cavity of the skull. The cerebrum is divided into 
 two hemispheres, the right and the left. For our purpose 
 we may call attention to four lobes on the outer surface of 
 each hemisphere. A deep furrow, called the fissure of 
 Rolando, divides the upper portion of each hemisphere 
 transversely into two parts, while the fissure of Sylvius 
 does the same thing for the sides of each hemisphere. 
 
 FIG. 9. Side view of a monkey's brain, showing motor centers. Horsley 
 and Schafer. 
 
 The surface of the brain anterior to these two fissures is 
 called the frontal lobe. The parietal lobe lies immediately 
 behind the fissure of Rolando and extends down to the 
 occipital lobe, which comprises the rear part of the brain. 
 The temporal lobe lies on the side of the brain immediately 
 behind and below the fissure of Sylvius. Each of these 
 'obes is divided into convolutions by furrows more or less 
 distinct
 
 24 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE 
 
 There is a correspondence between the interior surfaces 
 of the two hemispheres where they face each other, just as 
 the halves of an apple match on their plane side. These 
 interior surfaces of the hemispheres have certain convo- 
 lutions, of which it is not easy to form an idea without a 
 brain model. (See Fig. 12.) 
 
 Line indicates fissure 
 of Rolando 
 
 Occipital 
 lobe 
 
 Fissure of Temporal 
 Sylvius lobe 
 
 FlG. 10. Diagram showing position of sensory and motor centers on the 
 outer surface of the human brain. The convolutions on which these centers fall 
 may be seen on referring to Fig. 8. Kirke's Handbook. 
 
 Localization of Functions. It can scarcely be doubted 
 that the brain, like a large city, has much of its complex 
 business systematized and localized. Those anxious about 
 the arrest of a criminal go to see the chief of police ; those 
 wishing to search a title go to the county clerk's office ; 
 those who try cases repair to the court chambers. In like 
 manner the senses report to certain parts of the brain, while 
 other well-defined parts send out a motor order to raise a 
 hand or to speak a word. 
 
 The motor zone, or that part of the brain concerned in
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 25 
 
 sending out orders to move the body, lies on either side of 
 the fissure of Rolando. So definitely has this area been 
 mapped out, that it is possible to find, for the purpose of 
 a surgical operation, so small a center as that which moves 
 the vocal cords, directs a thumb, or winks an eye. When 
 the motor region of the brain is laid bare, and its various 
 parts are stimulated by electricity, the muscles governed 
 by certain areas immediately contract. (See Figs. 9 and 
 10.) 
 
 FIG. ii. Side of left hemisphere of human brain, showing the principal 
 localized areas. Adapted from Mills. 
 
 Sensory brain tracts are those concerned in receiving 
 impressions from the senses. The center for sight is in 
 the occipital part of the brain ; that for hearing is probably 
 in the rear two thirds of the first and second temporal con- 
 volution s ( Fig. 8, T lt T z ). The center for touch has not been 
 definitely ascertained, but the lobe of the gyrus fornicatus 
 (Fig. 12), on the mesial surface of the brain, and the
 
 20 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 parietal area (see Fig. 11, portion marked "Sensory") 
 are probably most actively concerned in this sense. The 
 centers for taste and smell are uncertain. What evidence 
 there is, places them under the front part of the temporal 
 region and immediately behind the fissure of Sylvius, in 
 the convolution of the gyrus hippocampus (Fig. 12). 
 
 The higher functions of the mind, such as imagination 
 and thought, have never been localized. The entire brain 
 is probably an organ of memory. In general terms, we 
 
 FIG. 12. Interior surface of a hemisphere of the brain, showing probable 
 localization of touch, taste, and smell. Modified from Kirke's Handbook. 
 
 may say that the cortex, or outer surface of gray matter 
 enveloping the brain, is the part most concerned in mental 
 action. There is only a probability that the higher forms 
 of psychical action are most closely connected with the 
 frontal lobes. The interior of the hemispheres of the 
 brain is almost entirely composed of connective nerve 
 fibers. 
 
 It is desirable for the average person to have such a gen-
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 2? 
 
 eral knowledge of brain localization as may be obtained 
 from the accompanying diagrams, because the necessity for 
 the unifying action of mind will be thereby better compre- 
 hended. When we study the separating and the combining 
 powers of the imagination, we shall then remember that 
 different sensations at the very first ran into different parts 
 of the brain. When we investigate the will, we shall the 
 better understand how a sensation, pouring into one part of 
 the brain, is transformed in another part into a motor stim- 
 ulus, and thus completes its passage along a nervous arc. 
 
 Observed Effects of Mental Action on the Brain. 
 
 mometers placed against the scalp have shown a rise of 
 temperature during any mental effort, whether it be in 
 noticing some new thing, in committing to memory, in 
 thinking, or in experiencing an emotion. While a woman 
 was being subjected to a test of this sort, from no apparent 
 cause her temperature suddenly rose. The explanation ju^eJ^AW 
 was that she had at that moment caught sight of a skull 
 in the room. 
 
 From experiments on animals, we learn that the active 
 use of their senses causes a rise in cerebral temperature. 
 A German investigator found that when he presented 
 something not good to eat to the nostrils of a dog, the 
 momentary sniff was accompanied by a slight rise in tem- 
 perature. When a package containing a piece of meat 
 was offered, the temperature was higher, because of more 
 lively emotional interest. 
 
 A table, balanced as accurately as an apothecary's scales, 
 has been devised, so that a person may recline on it in 
 a horizontal position. If he begins to think, or to use his 
 mind actively, down goes the head end, because of the 
 increased amount of blood in the brain. The knowledge
 
 28 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 of the effect of mental action on the brain teaches us 
 that this organ comes under the law, that the harder any 
 organ is worked the more rest and nutriment it must have. 
 To secure the best intellectual action, there must be assimi- 
 lation of the most nutritive food, sufficient sound sleep, 
 and an adequate amount of pure air and exercise ; other- 
 wise the brain will become a dulled tool. Intellectual cul- 
 ture probably causes definite effects upon the structure of 
 the brain and tends to keep it plastic longer. It is doubt- 
 ful whether the cerebral cortex ever returns to its exact 
 previous condition after receiving a new sensation. 
 
 The brain of a fairly intelligent person, if unfolded and 
 smoothed out, would be found to have a superficial area of 
 about four square feet. The greater the intelligence of 
 the person, the deeper are the convolutions and the finer 
 the structure. Education, instead of rendering the brains 
 of the sexes more alike, serves rather to intensify the dif- 
 ference. The faces and the brains of male and female 
 savages resemble each other far more closely than do those 
 of the different sexes among the most intelligent people. 
 
 Relation between Age and Brain Growth. The brain 
 reaches its maximum -.weight by the fifteenth year, but 
 probably continues developing internally until at least -the- 
 age of thirty. There comes a time when the brain, like 
 the rest of the body, ceases to grow and remains at a 
 standstill. Between forty and fifty, a slow decrease in the 
 weight of the brain begins, at a rate varying with different 
 people. From this, we see the superiority of youth to age 
 in securing mental culture. A young brain is vigorous, 
 like a young body, and can travel much faster over the 
 continents of perception and memory. 
 
 The brain is less plastic after twenty, and it gradually,
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 2 g 
 
 so to speak, ossifies. Few men, after passing far into the 
 thirties, get an entirely new idea into their heads, although 
 the brain of the genius, as well as a brain judiciously 
 exercised, probably remains plastic beyond the usual 
 period. After even the age of forty, a fine structure of 
 thought may be erected with materials already gathered 
 upon foundations already built, but any new fact will be 
 apperceived (see p. 85) in terms of former knowledge. A 
 study of brain structure impresses the necessity of early 
 doing all we can. Investigations tend to show that the 
 cerebral association fibers, which probably furnish the 
 physical basis for thinking, cease progressive medullary 
 development before forty. Some authorities think that 
 the capacity for gaining new ideas ends earlier than indi- 
 cated above. Professor James says, " Outside of their own 
 business, the ideas gained by men before they are twenty- 
 five are practically the only ideas they shall have in their 
 lives ; they cannot get anything new. Disinterested curi- 
 osity is past, the mental grooves and channels set, the 
 power of assimilation gone" (2). 
 
 PERIPHERAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
 
 The Senses. If currents from the various sensory 
 nerves did not flow into the brain, we should get no 
 knowledge of the outside world ; the cerebral mechan- 
 ism, which is the most wonderful known to us, would be 
 useless. The brain gets dispatches from the optic, audi- 
 tory, olfactory, tactile, gustatory, and other nerves. These 
 dispatches are the data from which we get our knowledge 
 of the world. 
 
 The Sense of Touch. Myriad sensory nerves have their 
 endings in the skin. When these are sufficiently excited,
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 they transmit to the brain a peculiar sensation of pressure, 
 which we refer to the surface of our bodies. In this way 
 our world of touch is built up, and we know 
 things as hard, soft, smooth, sticky, rough, 
 and as offering resistance. The precise way 
 in which we construct this tactile world 
 will be considered under Perception. (See 
 Figs. 13 and 14.) 
 
 There is great difference in the tactile 
 sensitiveness of the skin. The distance at 
 which the points of a pair of blunted com- 
 passes can be distin- 
 guished apart varies 
 from one twenty-fourth 
 of an inch at the tip of 
 the tongue to one inch 
 on the cheek, and two 
 and a half inches in 
 the mid-dorsal region. 
 
 When a touch cor- 
 puscle is excited, the 
 sensation persists for a 
 
 FIG. 13. Dia- . FIG. 14. Touch corpus- 
 
 grammatic view of time after the removal cle magnified 50 diameters, 
 
 the under surface of the exciting object. ~ M'Kendrick. 
 of the index finger, 
 
 showing nerves If the finger is held against a revolving 
 
 Wheel With blunt teeth > 
 
 are felt 
 
 nerve; b, c, lateral rate so long as the revolutions are not too 
 
 and terminal ., , . .. . , , , . .. .. 
 
 branches of the rapid; but if quickened sufficiently, the sur- 
 nerves; d,d,d. Pa- f ace o f tne toothed wheel will seem smooth. 
 
 cinian corpuscles. . 
 
 M'Kendrkk, after In touching different objects in quick suc- 
 
 cession, the nerves may not have lost the 
 
 excitation from one object when another is touched. 
 
 Hence our tactile knowledge of the second object would
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 3! 
 
 be a mixture of the qualities of both objects. This persist- 
 ence is easily understood in the case of taste, when the 
 second object's qualities may appear changed because 
 something else has been eaten immediately before. We 
 then say that the taste of the other is not yet out of 
 the mouth. We can also say that the touch of a former 
 object is not yet out of the skin, the sight out of the 
 optic nerve, the sound out of the auditory nerve, the smell 
 out of the olfactory nerve ; although sensations from the 
 other senses seldom persist as long as those of taste. 
 
 What is popularly known as touch is really due to 
 diverse sensations. Among these must be reckoned those 
 of pressure and temperature, as well as muscular sensa- 
 tions. Specialists tell us that " a lesion which may cut off 
 the possibility of feeling pain in a given part of the body, 
 may leave it still susceptible to sensations of heat and cold ; 
 or the sensation of touch may be present while the sensation 
 of pain cannot be aroused. From this we see that nerve 
 impulses, giving rise to sensations of touch, of pain, of tem- 
 perature, of the muscular sense, must pass upwards to the 
 sensorium by different paths, 
 one of which may be cut off 
 while the others remain " (3). 
 
 Temperature Sensations. 
 If we take a metal pencil 
 and dip it in hot water, we FlG .^._ c>coldspots; //.heatspots. 
 
 shall find as we pass the found on the back of the wrist. Gold- 
 . , , . , , Schneider. 
 
 point over our skin that cer- 
 tain spots are sensitive to heat If we move the point, we 
 shall find spots sensitive to cold alone. Here the metal 
 does not feel warm (See Fig. 15.) If we put cold metal 
 on a "heat spot," the sensation of cold is absent These
 
 32 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 points do not coincide with those specially sensitive to 
 touch. A washerwoman will hold her iron near her cheek 
 to test the temperature. The cheek is especially respon- 
 sive to thermal sensations, not so to tactile ones. It is 
 probable that there are special thermal nerves. 
 
 The temperature sense furnishes us with a good illustra- 
 tion to show that our senses do not make an absolute, but 
 only a relative, report concerning the world. We can easily 
 demonstrate that the same water may seem both hot and 
 cold to us at the same time. Let A be a bowl of cold 
 water; B, a bowl of hot water; C, a bowl of lukewarm 
 water. Plunge the right hand into A, the left into B\ 
 then withdraw both and plunge them into C. The luke- 
 warm water will seem warm to the right hand, cold to 
 the left 
 
 The Muscular Sense. There are sensory nerves origi- 
 nating in the muscles, as well as in the skin. When we 
 take hold of anything heavy, these sensory nerves in the 
 muscles yield a different sensation from that produced by 
 lifting a light object. The term " muscular" has been ap- 
 plied to those sensations coming from the muscles when ir 
 motion or at rest, when tense or relaxed. Muscular sensa 
 tion is always more or less voluminous, and it is charac- 
 terized by a spatial element which helps us to form our 
 idea of bodies in space. (See p. 71.) 
 
 The Sense of Sight. " The optical apparatus may be 
 supposed for the sake of description to consist of several 
 parts. First, of a system of transparent refracting sur- 
 faces and media by means of which images of external 
 Dbjects are brought to a focus upon the back of the eye; 
 and secondly, of a sensitive screen, the retina, which is a
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 
 
 33 
 
 specialized termination of the optic nerve, capable of being 
 stimulated by luminous objects, and of sending through the 
 optic nerve such an impression as to produce in the brain 
 visual sensations. To these main parts may be added, 
 thirdly, an apparatus for focusing objects at different 
 distances from the eye, called accommodation. Even this 
 does not complete the description of the whole organ 
 of vision, since both eyes are usually employed in vision; 
 
 Ciliary muscle 
 
 Ciliary process 
 
 Canal of Petit 
 
 Cornea 
 
 Anterior chamber 
 
 Lens- 
 
 It-is 
 
 Ciliary process- 
 Ciliary muscle 
 
 FIG. 16. Section of the eyeball. Kirke's Handbook. 
 
 and fourthly, an arrangement exists by means of which 
 the eyes may be turned in the same direction by a system 
 of muscles, so that binocular vision is possible. 
 
 "The eye may be compared to a photographic camera, 
 and the transparent media correspond to the photographic 
 lens. In such a camera images of objects are thrown upon 
 a ground-glass screen at the back of a box, the interior of 
 which is painted black. In the eye, the camera proper is 
 represented by the eyeball with its choroidal pigment, the 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 3.
 
 34 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 screen by the retina, and the lens by the refracting media. 
 In the case of the camera, the screen is enabled to receive 
 clear images of objects at different distances, by ah appa- 
 ratus for focusing. The corresponding contrivance in the 
 eye is the accommodation. The iris, which is capable of 
 allowing more or less light to pass into the eye, corre- 
 sponds with the different-sized diaphragms used in photo, 
 graphic apparatus " (4). (See Fig. 16.) 
 
 The important facts for the student of psychology to 
 remember about the physical mechanism of the eyes are : 
 (i) that they resemble photographic apparatus, although 
 far more complex ; (2) that the fibers of the optic nerves 
 leading from the retina of each eye meet at the base of the 
 brain, where part of these fibers decussate, or cross to the 
 opposite side (see Fig. 17); (3) that these fibers lead to 
 brain cells in the occipital lobes ; (4) that only the result- 
 ant retinal change due to light reflected from objects is 
 transmitted to the occipital lobes by the optic nerves ; and 
 (5) that these sensations from light thus aroused in the 
 occipital lobes are interpreted by a perceiving mind to 
 mean certain things, in the same way that Chinese sym- 
 bols are translated into thoughts. 
 
 Since muscular sensations are such important factors in 
 estimating the distance and spatial relations of bodies, it is 
 important for the student to know that the eye has six mus- 
 cles, four of which are straight, and attached to the front 
 part of the eyeball. There are two oblique muscles which 
 are joined to the sides of the orbit behind the attachment 
 of the straight muscles. These oblique muscles, as their 
 name implies, tend to pull the eyes obliquely between the 
 directions given by the other muscles. In this way the 
 eyeball can be rolled upward, downward, inward, outward, 
 and in oblique directions. If we look at a near object;
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 
 
 35 
 
 there is considerable muscular strain to converge the eyes 
 to bear upon it. When we look at a remote object, this 
 
 FlG. 17. Semi-diagrammatic representation of the nervous processes concerned 
 in vision. A, optic chiasma, or place where a portion of the optic fibers from each 
 eye cross to the opposite side. The course of the optic fibers is shown from the 
 time they leave the eye until they pass into the occipital lobes of the brain, 
 
 strain disappears. Hence the muscular sensations vary 
 with the distance and direction of objects.
 
 36 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 There is contact in optical, as well as in tactile and olfac- 
 tory sensations. Vibrations in the luminiferous ether strike 
 the eye and affect the retina. The optic nerve transmits 
 the excitation to the brain, and we see. 
 
 From studying the sense of sight, one is impressed with 
 the unity of the mind. In normal eyes there are always 
 two images of the same object, and an optic nerve from 
 each eye leads to the brain. Since a large number of the 
 fibers in the optic nerve from the right eye cross over to 
 the left side of the brain, and a large number of those 
 from the left eye cross to the right side, the problem of 
 sight becomes more complex ; for there are not only two 
 images, but each image is partially transmitted to the side 
 of the brain opposite to the direction in which the light 
 from the object enters the eye. In addition to this, the 
 image is always formed on the retina bottom side up. 
 Strictly speaking, the images are never transmitted to the 
 brain, but only the resultant effect. The mind uses this as 
 a datum to construct its picture of the thing seen. When 
 the captain of a steamship sees three red lanterns in a 
 certain position on another vessel, he is not concerned with 
 images of the lanterns, but with what those lanterns mean; 
 namely, that the vessel is disabled. 
 
 Some persons whose abnormal eyes do not transmit a 
 fused impression, always see a thing double, and when they 
 dream of a friend, he is double. This fact well shows the 
 dependence of our mental images on our senses. If we 
 hold a pencil between us and the sky and focus our eyes 
 on a distant cloud, we shall see two hazy images of the 
 pencil. When such occasional instances occur in ordinary 
 life, we simply pay no attention to the second image, just 
 as we do not heed the striking of a clock when we are seri- 
 ously engaged.
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 37 
 
 If an object vanishes after having been seen for a 
 second, the effect always lasts on the retina for an appre- 
 ciable length of time. If a firebrand is rapidly revolved, 
 it appears to be a complete circle of fire. When the sen- 
 sation is very strong, as in the case of an electric light, 
 the after effect may last for several minutes. If we 
 look at differently colored objects close together, a certain 
 amount of retinal impression from each lasts to color the 
 sensation from the next object. This furnishes a physical 
 analogy to the mental process of apperception, where the 
 mental perception of a new object is influenced by what 
 we have before experienced, so that the product is a re- 
 sultant of both perceptions. 
 
 The only direct and unaided office of the eye is to tell 
 different shades of color and intensities of light. We 
 shall see that everything else that it seems to tell us is a 
 product of inference. But the eye is sometimes wrong in 
 reporting simple sensations. " Suppose, e.g., that you cut 
 little squares from the same gray paper, and lay them 
 upon red, green, yellow, and blue papers, placed side by 
 side. They all look different : that on the red is greenish; 
 that on the green, reddish; that on the yellow, bluish; 
 that on the blue, yellowish " (5). Herschel says that the 
 eyes of the workers on mosaics at the Vatican distinguished 
 correctly between 30,000 different shades of color. 
 
 The Sense of Hearing. The ear and the auditory 
 nerve are the organs which transmit to the brain the 
 effect of atmospheric vibrations. The ear is a labyrinthine 
 cavity so constructed as best to convey these sound waves 
 to the auditory nerve. The psychologist is not specially 
 concerned with these intricate windings or with the mechan- 
 ical principles involved. It is important for him to know
 
 38 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 that the sound waves affect the inner ear, set the auditory 
 nerve in action, and that this action is transmitted to the 
 brain. (See Fig. 18.) 
 
 Individual ears differ much in their capacity for re- 
 ceiving atmospheric vibrations. The rates of vibration 
 between which sounds are most commonly heard are from 
 30 to 30,000 in a second. A lower rate of vibration than 
 
 FlG. 18. Section of the ear (Czermak). M, outer ear; G, external auditory 
 canal ; T, membrane of the tympanum ; R, opening of the Eustachian tube into 
 the pharynx; P, cavity of the tympanum ; Pt, scala tympani ; Vt, scala vestibuli; 
 V, vestibule ; B, semicircular canal ; 5, cochlea ; A, auditory nerve. 
 
 16 in a second does not affect the auditory nerve suffi- 
 ciently to cause hearing. Beyond 36,000, the rapidity is 
 so great that no sound is heard. 
 
 Our ears give different sensations according as sounds 
 vary in certain characteristics, (i) The pitch, or the num- 
 ber of the vibrations, differs. Thus, the creaking of a rusty 
 hinge is unlike the resonance of a bass drum. The pitch
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 39 
 
 of the human voice in singing is usually between 87 and 
 768 vibrations a second, although Nilsson's voice is said to 
 have reached 1365. We see that the range of the ear is far 
 beyond these. (2) Sounds vary in intensity, or in the am- 
 plitude, of the vibrations. The noise made by a mosquito 
 differs from the roar of a cannon. (3) The quality differs 
 according to the agent producing the sound. A flute, a 
 trombone, a cornet, and a harp may all be playing the same 
 tune, but the quality of sound emitted by each instrument 
 varies. (4) The relation of one sound to another varies, so 
 that either harmony or discord, music or a noise, is the result. 
 Aural sensations persist for some time after the cessa- 
 tion of the atmospheric vibrations. Thus, we can hear the 
 ringing of a bell after it has stopped. It is also sometimes 
 impossible to distinguish between a present and a remem- 
 bered sound. We will often find it hard to decide whether 
 the ringing of the bell, which we seem to hear some time 
 after its cessation, is due to the persistence of the sensation 
 in the ear or to the activity of a cerebral memory cell. It 
 is well to note this fact, for it helps us the better to under- 
 stand the primary causes of illusion. 
 
 The Sense of Smell. The cavity of the nostrils is lined 
 with a mucous membrane filled with nerves of general 
 sensibility as well as of smell. In order to stimulate the 
 olfactory nerves and arouse a sensation of smell, air con- 
 taining odorous, gaseous particles must come in contact 
 with the nerves of the mucous membrane. The qualities 
 of smell are so many and so indefinitely separated that it 
 is useless to attempt a classification. Sensations in our 
 noses are often compounds of smell, touch, and taste. 
 
 The intensity of an odor depends on the number of 
 gaseous molecules which the substance emits and the
 
 4O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 intensity of affection of the olfactory nerves. Musk is very 
 odorous, as it gives off many molecules, thus affecting a 
 large nervous surface in the nose. Ammonia gives off 
 fewer molecules, but they affect the nerves more violently. 
 
 The Sense of Taste. In the tongue there are myriad 
 little cellular bodies called taste buds. When a soluble 
 substance, like quinine or sugar, is placed on the tongue, 
 these taste buds are affected, probably in a chemical way. 
 This affection stimulates the connecting gustatory nerves, 
 which transmit the excitement to the brain, thus causing 
 the sensation of taste. We can easily recognize four taste 
 sensations, bitter, sweet, sour, and salt. The almost 
 numberless sensations shading off from these are products 
 of both smell and touch. " The pleasantness of many sorts 
 of food (e.g. jelly) is certainly derived chiefly from their 
 effect upon the delicate skin of the palate, and is, there- 
 fore, much more a question of touch than of taste. In the 
 wider sense in which it is customary to speak of taste, the 
 Shah of Persia was right when he reproached Europeans 
 (who used knives and forks) for not knowing that the 
 sense of taste begins in the finger tips " (6). 
 
 SPEED OF NERVE TRANSMISSION. 
 
 Transmission of Nervous Stimuli Requires Time. 
 We have seen that the tactile, optic, auditory, olfactory, 
 and gustatory nerves pour currents into the brain, which 
 result in sensation. Both nervous and mental processes 
 take time. Nerve currents have been likened to elec- 
 tricity, but the rate of nervous transmission is far slower. 
 
 A sensory nerve conducts a message at the average rate 
 of 1 1 1 feet a second. If a man had an arm 1 1 1 feet long,
 
 THE NERVOUS MECHANISM. 4 1 
 
 one second would elapse from the time his finger was 
 pricked before he felt pain. Some of the older meta- 
 physicians used to teach that the soul came into actual 
 contact with matter at the finger tips. A study of our 
 nervous mechanism has completely shattered this assump- 
 tion. If a man had an arm sufficiently long to plunge into 
 the sun's vaporous metal, 140 years would roll by before 
 he felt any pain. In other words, he would die before 
 the soul knew that the hand was burned. A motor nerve 
 also transmits a command from the brain to the muscle 
 at the rate of 1 1 1 feet a second. Suppose an orange 
 tree ninety-three millions of miles in height ; and the hand 
 on an arm of that length already lying on a bough one foot 
 from a desired orange. The mind issues a command to 
 grasp the fruit. This order would reach the hand in 140 
 years, and not until then would the hand grasp the fruit 
 
 Reaction Time. The time necessary for the simplest 
 form of reaction is determined in this way : A person's fin- 
 ger is touched, and it is arranged that as soon as he feels the 
 touch he shall move his foot. In this process we may call 
 attention to four different elements, (i) There is the time 
 occupied by the sensory nerve in transmitting the sensa- 
 tion from the finger to the brain. (2) There is the time 
 taken by the brain or mind in perceiving this sensation 
 after it is registered on the cortex. (3) There is the 
 period occupied in issuing a motor fiat, or in willing to 
 move the foot. (4) There is the time consumed by the 
 motor nerve in carrying this command to move the foot. 
 Since we know that the time occupied by the sensory and 
 the motor nerves in transmitting impulses is about 1 1 1 feet 
 per second, we can compute the period taken in the brain 
 to perceive the sensation and to will a movement (i) and
 
 42 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 (4) are purely physiological times. The periods of percep- 
 tion and of willing, (2) and (3), are known as the mental 
 time, which in such a case as this is about one fifteenth of 
 a second. The time consumed in all four of these proc- 
 esses is generally greater than one tenth and less than one 
 fifth of a second ; but these times are only approximate, 
 since they vary with the individual, with the time of year 
 and time of life, with bodily condition, with the kind and 
 intensity of the stimulus, with the direction of the atten- 
 tion, and with the amount of expectation involved. 
 
 The times given above are those taken by a subject who 
 knows beforehand exactly what signal is to be given him 
 and the responsive movement which he is to make. If he 
 was told that when his right finger was touched, he was to 
 move the left foot, but when the signal was given to his 
 left finger, his right foot was to be moved, the mental time 
 would be nearly double that given above. There would 
 here be a new element of discrimination, and that would 
 consume the additional time. 
 
 The time employed in associating one idea with another 
 naturally depends on many factors. Sir Francis Galton 
 found that the average time between the sight of a word, 
 and the appearance in consciousness of a new idea asso- 
 ciated with that word, was about five sixths of a second. 
 But the important fact to remember is that all nervous and 
 mental processes take an appreciable amount of time. 
 
 AUTHORITIES QUOTED. 
 
 1. See Foster's Text Book of Physiology, p. 813. 
 
 2. James's Principles of Psychology, Vol. II., p. 402. 
 
 3. M'Kendrick and Snodgrass's Physiology of the Senses, p. 14. 
 
 4. Kirke's Handbook of Physiology, pp. 727-8. 
 
 5. Wundt's Lectures on Human and Animal Psychology, p. 113 
 
 6. Hoffding's Outlines of Psychology, p. 102.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 *jj^\ CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION. 
 
 Yv 
 
 Nature of Mind and Matter. It used to be the fashion 
 
 to begin psychologies with a discussion concerning the 
 material or immaterial nature of the mind. It has been 
 well said that psychology is no more bound to begin by 
 telling what mind is, than physics is obliged to start by 
 settling the vexed question as to what matter is. Psy- 
 chology studies the phenomena of mind, just as physics 
 investigates those of matter. 
 
 Fortunately, phenomena do not change with our varying 
 views as to what things really are. The phenomena of 
 electricity remain the same whether we consider it a fluid, 
 a repulsion of molecules, or vibrations of the ether. If a 
 man held the strange theory that electricity was a flock of 
 invisible molecular goats that pranced along a wire with 
 inconceivable rapidity, he would still have to insulate the 
 wires in the same way, generate the current in the same 
 way. A strong discharge would kill him as quickly as if 
 he held a different theory. In short, his views of the 
 ultimate substance of electricity would in nowise change 
 its phenomena. 
 
 If any materialist should hold that the mind was nothing 
 but the brain, and that the brain was a vast aggregation 
 of molecular sheep herding together in various ways, his 
 hypothesis would not change the fact that senaatiorunust 
 precede perception, memory, and thought ; nor would the 
 laws of the association of ideas be changed, nor would 
 
 43
 
 44 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 the fact that interest and repetition aid memory cease to 
 hold good. The man who thought his mind was a collec- 
 tion of little cells would dream, imagine, think, and feel; so 
 also would he who believed his mind to be immaterial. It 
 is very fortunate that the same mental phenomena occur, 
 no matter what theory is adopted. Those who like to study 
 the puzzles as to what mind and matter really are, must go 
 to metaphysics. Should we ever find that salt, arsenic, 
 and all things else, are the same substance with a different 
 molecular arrangement, we should still not use them in- 
 terchangeably. 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 Definition. Consciousness is that indefinable character^ 
 istic of mental states which causes us to be aware of themj 
 The full growth of ideas, the development of associations 
 between them, and the processes involved in emotion, are 
 not always limited to the sphere of consciousness. Full- 
 fledged ideas frequently start into consciousness. We 
 sometimes dream or suddenly think of a solution, which 
 is the result of unconscious brain activity working toward 
 a given end. Sometimes a genius writes a work, the 
 full splendor of which he is not aware of until after its 
 completion. There were in him forces, partly unconscious, 
 tending toward the wonderful result. 
 
 When we become unconscious from a blow on the head, 
 or from sleep, we no longer know any mental occurrences. 
 By contrasting these two states, we shall have a better idea 
 of consciousness. The atoms in a granite rock may be in 
 a state of constant vibration, but we can hardly imagine 
 the rock to be aware of the fact. The light of a beautiful 
 sunset may be reflected upon the rock ; but there is no 
 consciousness in the rock of the splendor.
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION. 45 
 
 Strictly speaking, consciousness is incapable of defini- 
 tion. To define anything, we are obliged to express that 
 thing in terms of something else. When we say that 
 sugar is a sweet substance, and are asked what a sweet 
 substance is, we reply that honey, maple syrup, sorghum, 
 will give a fair idea of such a substance. Now, there is 
 nothing else in the world like consciousness, hence wt 
 can define it only in terms of itself, and that is very much 
 like trying to lift one's self by one's boot straps. If a 
 person had never eaten sugar, we could give him an idea 
 of it if he was familiar with honey and other sweet things ; 
 but if he did not have a rudimentary idea of what con- 
 sciousness is, from its possession, ages of explanation would 
 fail to make him understand. The blind man thought that 
 scarlet must resemble the sound of a trumpet. That was 
 the best idea of the color that he could form. 
 
 Consciousness is one of the greatest mysteries that con- 
 fronts us. Huxley rightly says : " How it is that anything 
 so remarkable as a state of consciousness comes about by 
 the result of irritating nervous tissue, is just as unac- 
 countable as the appearance of the jinnee when Aladdin 
 rubbed his lamp." 
 
 It is usual to discriminate between consciousness and self- 
 consciousness. The difference between the two states may 
 be seen in such examples as these : When I see a child 
 run over and killed, I am conscious of the event, but do 
 not think of myself. The stream of conscious attention is 
 here directed outward. When I find myself thinking of 
 New Zealand and wonder how that came to mind, when I 
 direct the mental gaze imvard to find a connection between 
 that idea and the preceding one, I am self-conscious. When 
 I think of my own hopes and fears, of the difference between 
 myself and another person, and wonder how the content of
 
 46 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 his consciousness resembles mine, I am self-conscious. 
 Self-consciousness is a growth. Many persons never have 
 more than a misty idea of such a mental attitude. They 
 always take themselves for granted, and never turn the 
 gaze inward. 
 
 Distinction between Subjective and Objective. The 
 
 mind's attitude is called subjective when the mental gaze is 
 turned within itself to notice what is taking place. The 
 mental state is termed objective when the mind is looking 
 at things in the outside world. A good novelist is first 
 busied with objective study. He searches for characters 
 and plots, or suggestions for them, in the outside world. 
 When, by this means, he has formed definite ideas in suffi- 
 cient quantity, he writes his novel. During the period of 
 composition, he is busy marshaling these subjective mental 
 objects. When Bunyan wrote his Pilgrims Progress, sub- 
 jective pictures thronged before him. He had found the 
 necessary objective material for them in the Puritan army 
 and its opponents, and in the Bible. 
 
 The student of psychology must learn to have a clear 
 idea of mental objects. This may occasion him some 
 trouble at the start, for they are unlike anything else. 
 He has been used to those objects which he could touch, 
 taste, hear, see, or smell ; but mental objects can be 
 known by none of the senses. The bodily eye does not 
 tell us that we are calling up the face of an absent friend. 
 The image of the face is just as distinct with our eyes 
 shut. There is neither touch nor sound when mental 
 objects are linked together in thought. 
 
 Necessity of the Study of Consciousness. No one would 
 ever find out from the study of physiology alone that con-
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION. 47 
 
 sciousness existed. He might dissect a Socrates, he might 
 trepan a living Newton, but the dissector would never 
 reach the thought. He might see the gray matter in 
 unusual activity, but not the emotions of love or fear, the 
 memories of childhood, the thoughts which advanced the 
 world. The man who stops with the study of physiology, 
 will never touch the hem of the robes of imagination, 
 thought, emotion, or will. On the other hand consciousness 
 would never reveal to man the fact that he had a-braifk 
 
 Nevertheless, it is true that the old psychology, which 
 derived its knowledge from the study of consciousness 
 alone, was one-sided ; for it did not sufficiently take into 
 account the fact that mental operations are conditioned 
 by nervous matter. But the old psychology was not so 
 one-sided as the material school, which would leave con- 
 sciousness entirely out of account. 
 
 In the study of psychology, we are therefore obliged to 
 make use of introspection, which is only another term for 
 consciousness forcibly directed toward mental operations. 
 By introspection, we watch the stream of ideas flowing 
 through the mind, and notice how they are connected, 
 what new combinations they are capable of forming, and 
 what laws they obey. 
 
 \ Mental Objects Precede all Material Invention. | Those 
 who exclusively study flowers, rocks, metals, or animals, 
 may think that psychology deals only with " such stuff as 
 dreams are made of," that all its objects are airy phantoms 
 of little worth. Such students may say that they can see 
 some use in an objective bridge, none whatever in a sub- 
 jective one. But they must remember that the Brooklyn 
 Bridge first existed in the mind before the structure 
 became an objective reality. The projectors had first to
 
 48 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 plan what they intended to do. Then they had to put these 
 plans on paper in the form of drawings, the mind going 
 before the pencil, and telling the fingers where to put 
 the next line. Only after the mental object was complete, 
 was matter slowly poured into this mental mold. Only 
 then did that wonderful bridge, connecting two great 
 cities, become a reality. The same is true of every step 
 in material progress, from the invention of the sewing 
 machine to that of the telephone. In the battle of life, 
 those succeed best who can form definite ideas of what 
 they are going to do, before they start to do it. Others 
 are prone to get into trouble, and are often forced to 
 retrace their steps. 
 
 The Subconscious Field. It must not be supposed that 
 the mind is at any one time conscious of all its materials 
 and powers. At any moment we are not conscious of a 
 thousandth part of what we know. It is well that such 
 is the case; for when we are studying an object under a 
 microscope, trying to memorize poetry, demonstrating a 
 geometrical proposition, or learning a Latin verb, we 
 should not want all we knew of history and physics, or 
 images of the persons, trees, dogs, birds, or horses, that 
 we remembered, to rush into our minds at the same time. 
 If they did so, our mental confusion would be indescrib- 
 able. Between the perception and the recall, the treas- 
 ures of memory are, metaphorically speaking, away from 
 the eye of consciousness. How these facts are preserved, 
 before they are reproduced by the call of memory, con- 
 sciousness can never tell us. An event may not be 
 thought of for fifty years, and then it may suddenly appear 
 in consciousness. 
 
 As we grow older, the subconscious field increases.
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION. 49 
 
 When we first began to walk, we were conscious of every 
 step. Later, we can talk about the deepest subjects while 
 we are walking, and not even think of the steps we are 
 taking. We sometimes wind our watches without being 
 conscious of the operation, as is shown by the fact that we 
 again test them to see if we have wound them. 
 
 Difference in States of Consciousness. At various times, 
 states of consciousness differ in several respects : (i) The 
 intensity differs. At one time, we are a trifle angry ; at 
 another, we quiver with rage. Now we are studying with 
 a sort of diffused consciousness ; now, with intense effort. 
 (2) The extent of the conscious field differs. Now con- 
 sciousness embraces only one thing at a time ; shortly 
 after, several things. (3) The speed of objects varies in 
 crossing the conscious field. At one time, ideas come to 
 us slowly ; at another, they jostle each other in a mad rush. 
 (4) Most important of all, states of consciousness differ in 
 quality. We are conscious of a difference between a state 
 of thought and of emotion. 
 
 Classification of Different Mental States. No one can 
 successfully dispute the fact that consciousness reveals to 
 us a difference in our mental states. Using this difference 
 as a basis, we may proceed to classify them, remembering 
 that, though all mental powers may be more or less promi- 
 nent in all states, we are to name the state from the 
 dominant element. If the units of energy at the mind's 
 disposal are represented as one hundred, divided in vary- 
 ing degree between intellectual, emotional, and voluntary 
 action, and if at one time, in a fit of rage, there are ninety 
 units expended in emotional action, five each in intel- 
 lectual and voluntary action, then this should be called an 
 HAIXECK'S PSYC. 4
 
 50 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 emotional state. When Newton was trying to demonstrate 
 the analogy between the earth's action on a falling apple 
 and on the moon, his mental state was chiefly intellectual, 
 although he at the same time felt emotional interest in 
 his work, and also voluntarily pursued it. 
 
 When we notice our friends, it is beyond dispute that 
 we see them glad at one time, sorrowful at another ; now 
 in determined action, and again sitting down quietly to 
 think out some problem. We realize that the person who 
 to-day is in a rage is the same one who yesterday was 
 laughing. The human mind is a many-sided whole, capa- 
 ble of acting in various ways. Now it is occupied chiefly 
 with intellectual action, now with feeling, and now with 
 determination. It was once the fashion to regard th^ mind 
 as a structure with three different major compartments. 
 In one compartment, intellectual action was carried on ; in 
 another, emotional ; in a third, volitional. .' It was thought 
 that the occupants of one compartment rested while those 
 of another were busy. We now know that the mind is a unit 
 acting as one individual. Just as it is the same small boy, 
 now running, now walking, now climbing a fence, now play- 
 ing baseball ; so it is the same mental energy, now busied in 
 intellectual action, now in ejnotional, and now in .volitional. 
 
 Intellect, Emotion, Will. Recollecting the character of 
 the mind, we may make a three-fold classification of its 
 major functions into intellect, feeling or emotion, and will. 
 We have at one time felt that the greater part of our mental 
 energies was expended in looking at things, in remember- 
 ing them, or in thinking about them ; at another, we were 
 not conscious of being much else but happy or wretched ; 
 at still another, we were determining and carrying that 
 determination into effect.
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION. 51 
 
 Intellectual action is mental energy expended in per- 
 ceiving, remembering, imagining, and thinking. In emo- 
 tional action, the mind is mainly occupied with feeling 
 pleasure or pain. In willing, the mind is busied with 
 acting or refraining from action. 
 
 Perception, Representation, Thought. We have seen 
 that intellectual action is one of the three sides of mental 
 action. Now, intellectual action itself has three different 
 sides, according as we are busy perceiving, remembering 
 or imagining, or thinking. In actual 
 life these all go together like an apple 
 and its color. But for convenience of 
 3 study, we may keep in our minds the 
 image of a right-angled triangle. (See 
 Fig. 19.) On the base line we may put 
 emotion ; on the perpendicular, will ; 
 FIG. 19. Diagram and on the hypotenuse, joining the two, 
 totenect On this hypotenuse we 
 may put toward the base, perception; 
 next, representation ; and, highest of the three, thought. 
 This will give us a fair idea of necessary mental classi 
 fication. 
 
 All the Mental Powers are Factors in a Complete Mental 
 Act. We are constantly busied with things which bring 
 into play all the powers of the mind. A boy looks into 
 a garden and sees a tree laden with fruit. This mental 
 activity is chiefly perception. The tree is at some little 
 distance, and he is puzzled to decide whether the branches 
 are laden with apples or quinces. He calls up by the 
 representative power mental images of former quinces that 
 he has seen. Next, he proceeds to compare the fruit 
 
 EMOTION
 
 52 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 before him with this image, and he decides that both the 
 color and the shape differ somewhat from those of the 
 quince. In this activity he is thinking. He is pleased 
 with the juicy-looking fruit. Memories come to him of 
 the pleasure experienced in eating other apples, and with 
 those memories comes emotion. But still he stands there. 
 The mental state is incomplete. The more he looks at the 
 apples, the more he wants them, the stronger becomes his 
 emotion. But he soon finds out that to want and to feel 
 do not bring the apples to him. A high fence is between 
 him and them. Finally his will causes him to act. He 
 climbs the fence, plucks the fruit, and begins to eat. This 
 boy has now brought every mental power into play. He 
 has perceived, remembered, thought, felt, acted ; and he is 
 now, in consequence, eating the fruit. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 What is Attention? Attention is not a new faculty 
 any more than a boy, who rose from his seat and 
 began to run hard, is a different individual from what he 
 was when sitting. Attention is the focusing of conscious- 
 ness ; or, as some express it, attention is detention in 
 consciousness. The sun may scatter its rays over a large 
 surface ; or we may focus them in a sun glass, so as 
 to burn a hole through a plank or to boil water. The 
 mind may spread its consciousness dimly over many 
 things ; or it may narrow the field of attention and make 
 vast progress in some one line. It is true that if things 
 are easy and familiar, we may attend to several different 
 things at a time ; but if new and difficult, in order to 
 advance most rapidly, the attention must be centered upon 
 one thing.
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION. 53 
 
 As regards direction, there are two kinds of attention ; 
 the one directed within upon mental objects, the other 
 directed outward upon external objects. 
 
 From the point of view of the effort involved, there are 
 also two phases of attention : (i) reflex, and (2) voluntary 
 attention. Reflex attention is drawn from us by a nervous 
 response to some stimulus. Voluntary attention is given 
 by us to some object of our own selection and is accompa- 
 nied by a peculiar sense of effort. Many persons scarcely 
 get beyond the reflex stage. Any chance stimulus will take 
 their attention away from their studies or their business. 
 
 . Factors in Attention. There are two main factors in 
 
 attention : (i) the condition of the brain and nervous sys- 
 \ / j 
 
 fi& tern, and (2) the quantity and quality of the stimulus which 
 the object furnishes. The attention which a sickly or a 
 poorly nourished person can give is not at all comparable 
 that which could come from the same person if vigorous. 
 An inferior or an unhealthy brain has comparatively little 
 power of attention. If a person lives on a skimmed milk 
 diet, he will think skimmed milk thoughts. That nation 
 proverbially known as beefeaters has furnished to the 
 world the greatest literature of all time. 
 
 The quantity and the quality of the stimulus have an 
 important effect upon the attention. A terrific peal of 
 thunder or a blinding flash of lightning will take our 
 attention away from almost any object. A change in the 
 stimulus will frequently arrest the .attention. A clergy- 
 man, talking in loud tones, was astonished to see some 
 of his congregation asleep. He uttered a sentence in a 
 sepulchral whisper, and several of them awoke at once. 
 
 The Most Important Laws of Attention. (i) Attention 
 will not attach itself firmly to uninteresting things. 
 
 1
 
 54 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 (2) It will soon decline in vigor, (a) if the stimulus is 
 unvarying, or (b] if some new attribute is not discovered 
 in the object. (3) Attention cannot remain constant in 
 the same direction for a long period, (a) The nervous 
 apparatus of the senses soon tire under the strain of con- 
 tinuous attention toward any one object, and consequently 
 respond with less vigor, (b) The same is true of brain 
 cells. To prove the truth of this, one has only to focus 
 the eye continuously on one object or to keep the attention 
 fixed on the same phase of a subject. (4) When one kind 
 of attention is exhausted, we may rest ourselves in two 
 ways : (a) by giving ourselves up to the play of reflex 
 attention ; (d) by directing our voluntary attention into a 
 new channel. The amount of fatigue must determine 
 which is the better. (5) Attention continuously centered 
 upon the same unvarying sensation, or upon any unchang- 
 ing object, has been proved by experiment to tend to induce 
 either the hypnotic state or a comatose condition. 
 
 -i> Attention Develops Interest. When it is said that atten- 
 tion will not take a firm hold on an uninteresting thing, we 
 must not forget that any one not shallow and fickle can 
 soon discover something interesting in most objects. Here 
 cultivated minds show their especial superiority, for the 
 attention which they are able to give generally ends in 
 finding a pearl in the most uninteresting looking oyster. 
 When an object necessarily loses interest from one point 
 of view, such minds discover in it new attributes. The 
 essence of genius is to present an old thing in new ways, 
 whether it be some force in nature or some aspect of 
 humanity. 
 
 Importance of Attention. There is a constant struggle 
 on the part of sensations to survive in consciousness.
 
 I ^\\ _1 ' J- ~J\ t\ T 
 
 \ \^ Co uCoL*x_fl. L. ^/> 4dL>n. ' 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION. 55 
 
 That sensation which we allow to take the most forcible 
 hold on the attention usually wins the day. If we sit 
 by an open window in the country on a summer day, 
 we may have many stimuli knocking at the gate of 
 attention : the ticking of a clock, the sound of the wind, 
 the cackling of fowl, the quacking of ducks, the barking 
 of dogs, the lowing of cows, the cries of children at play, 
 the rustling of leaves, the songs of birds, the rumbling of 
 wagons, etc. If attention is centered upon any one of 
 these, that one for the time being acquires the importance 
 of a king upon the throne of our mental world. But none 
 of these may sway our thoughts, for our attention may be 
 forcibly directed to some other object, which colors our 
 conscious mental life. Hence it is of the utmost impor- 
 tance for our mental welfare to guard the gates of atten- 
 tion. Some persons have the power of voluntary attention 
 developed in such a slight degree, that it has been well 
 said that they belong less to themselves than to any object 
 that happens to strike their attention. 
 
 Business men say that the ability to gain the attention 
 is often the secret of success in... life. Enormous salaries 
 are paid to persons who can write advertisements certain 
 to catch the eye. A publisher said that he had sold only 
 five thousand copies of an excellent work, merely because 
 it had failed to catch the attention of many, and that 
 twenty-five thousand copies could have been disposed of 
 in the same time, if agents had forced them upon the 
 notice of people. Druggists say that any kind of patent 
 medicine can be sold, if it is so advertised as to strike the . 
 attention in a forcible manner. Business life has largely 
 resolved itself into a battle to secure the attention of 
 peopie^ 
 
 C^j
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PRESENTATION. 
 
 The Simplest Knowledge the Result of Complex Proc- 
 esses. "I see a large red apple on that tree about two 
 rods the other side of the road." Many persons would 
 think this statement embodied the simplest possible knowl- 
 edge, that there was nothing complex, nothing inferential 
 in seeing a red apple on a tree at a little distance. " I 
 simply use my eyes and see the apple," would be a common 
 unthinking expression, and yet every power at the disposal 
 of the mind is woven into the process that enables us to 
 make the statement. 
 
 A person who opened his eyes for the first time and 
 looked in that direction would see no apple. He would 
 have only a sensation of a patch of red color, which would 
 seem either to touch his eye or to be at no definite distance 
 from it. He would not know to what this patch of color 
 belonged ; he would not have the remotest idea of the cause 
 of the sensation. But an intelligent being would soon be- 
 come interested in his sensations ; thus, emotion would ap- 
 pear as a mental factor. He might turn his head away, 
 lose the patch of color, and determine to find it again 
 Here the power of will would be at work. When he found 
 the color, he might recognize it, and thus show that 
 memory was active. His eye might again wander from the 
 apple and rest upon the tree or a ruddy cloud beyond. He 
 would now experience different, sensations. He would not 
 
 56'
 
 ^TVJLNWf** 
 PRESENTATION. 
 
 know the tree and cloud as such ; he would merely have a 
 varying sensation of color. The moment he detected a 
 difference, two more mental powers would be active, per- 
 ception, and comparison or thought. Perception would 
 investigate the sensations closely, and the comparing or 
 thinking power would notice the likeness or difference. 
 Every mental power would now be at work ; but it will 
 take much time and effort, before the sensation of red 
 color can be translated into an apple. 
 
 Let us carefully go over these steps again in the case of 
 this imaginary person exercising the sense of sight for the 
 first time, (i) He has a sensation of a ruddy color from 
 an unknown source. (2) He has emotional interest in this 
 sensation. (3) When he loses it, he turns his head or eyes 
 to find the source, and so employs will. (4) When he 
 finds the color, he remembers it, and thus displays repre- 
 sentative power, or memory. (5) He has other sensations, 
 perceives them carefully, compares them, and notices a 
 likeness or a difference. Here perception and thought 
 appear together. 
 
 Before we can say that we see a red apple on a tree at a 
 certain distance, we must not only have had sensations of 
 sight which we voluntarily repeated because they inter- 
 ested us on the emotional side ; we must not only have 
 remembered these sensations, perceived them attentively, 
 and compared them closely, so as to distinguish the ocular 
 sensations due to the apple from those caused by the tree 
 or by a ruddy cloud beyond : but we must also have had 
 other sensations than that of sight from the apple. We 
 must know it, if blindfolded, by tactile sensations ; we 
 must be . able to distinguish its odor and recognize its 
 taste ; we must have noticed the sound when the fruit 
 fell from the tree.
 
 58 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Some of these sensations will be indefinite compared with 
 others; but, definite or indefinite, they must all be woven 
 together by the mental powers into the complex product, 
 an apple. From merely seeing an apple, one forms an 
 idea very imperfect compared with that of a boy, who has 
 eaten, smelled, and handled the fruit, and perhaps also 
 heard it fall in an orchard or on the floor. In order that 
 we shall again .know an apple, or any other object pre- 
 sented to the senses, the sensations produced by it, and 
 the inferences drawn therefrom, must be often repeated. 
 
 Before we can say that we see the apple at a certain dis- 
 tance, we must remember lights and shades and compara- 
 tive sizes. We must have treasured up muscular experi- 
 ences in walking or in throwing a stone, a certain distance, 
 or in accommodating our eyes or rolling them around. 
 Not until we can translate these complex experiences 
 into distance can we say that the apple is so many rods 
 away. Again, before we can know the apple as large, that 
 is, as occupying space in three dimensions, we must go 
 through such a complex process in comparing and dis- 
 criminating our tactual, ocular and muscular sensations, 
 that more than one philosopher has declared the skein of 
 the processes leading to our knowing the apple in space, 
 too tangled to be unraveled. 
 
 If we had to begin now and go through all the expert 
 ences and steps, entitling us to say, " I see a large red apple 
 on that tree about two rods the other side of the road," we 
 should be wearied with the complexity and slowness. It is 
 well that the infant begins this process shortly after birth 
 and that he has nothing else to do for a long time. 
 
 All Knowledge is a Resultant of all the Mental Powers. 
 What we have said about the apple contains the germ
 
 PRESENTATION. 59 
 
 of all psychology. We can only speak more fully 
 of the processes and repeat in detail what has been 
 said in a general way. If a flower is brought to us to 
 name, we have, if familiar with it, a web of knowledge 
 woven by the assistance of various sensations, memories, 
 emotions, acts of will, perceptions, and comparisons. We 
 know the flower and plant by the odor, color, shape of 
 leaf, taste, and can distinguish them from all others by 
 various signs. 
 
 The mental powers may not appear in the order in which 
 we have named them. They never appear singly, for we 
 cannot have even a simple sensation without also having an 
 emotional element and discrimination connected with it ; 
 nor can we remember without comparing a present sensa- 
 tion with a past one. Yet it will aid us, in study, to isolate 
 each of the processes, in the same way that we may con- 
 sider the form of a house apart from its color. But all 
 the mental powers are, at the same time, weavers at the 
 loom of knowledge, and the product is a web so closely 
 woven that it is often very difficult to pick out the separate 
 threads. 
 
 SENSATION. 
 
 Definition. /A sensation is a state of consciousness 
 resulting from nerve action/ When a stimulation of the 
 retina by light is transmitted by the optic nerve to the 
 brain so as to affect consciousness, the result is a sensa- 
 tion. No one can tell us why nerve action affects con- 
 sciousness, but such is the fact. Sensations are not 
 knowledge any more than wool is cloth. They are the raw 
 material out of which knowledge is slowly spun. Sensa- 
 tion accompanies the exercise of the senses and the nervous 
 system in general, when the latter is sufficiently aroused.
 
 OO PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 As we have seen, not all nervous action appears in conscious 
 sensation, since a healthy nervous system is fortunately a 
 machine which obtrudes no more of its business on con- 
 sciousness than is sufficient to furnish the raw materials of 
 knowledge. The capacity for sensation lies at the founda- 
 tion of all knowledge. Innumerable things in nature cause 
 sensations in the ear, eye, nose, mouth, skin, and muscles. 
 /Our knowledge of the world is merely the proper inter- 
 pretation of these sensations. 
 
 Conditions and Limits of Sensation. Four factors 
 enter into the production of a sensation : (i) There must 
 be a stimulus ; in other words, there must be atmospheric 
 vibrations for the ear, gaseous substances for the nose, etc. 
 (2) There must be nerves capable of transmitting to the 
 brain the effects of the stimulus. (3) There must be a con- 
 scious agent fitted to respond. (4) The stimulus must reach'l ~ 
 the brain in such a way as to cause a change in the con- j 
 scious agent. 
 
 We know that our sensory nerves are capable of trans- 
 mitting to the brain only a part of the phenomena of the 
 universe. When the vibrations in the air pass beyond a 
 certain limit, the ear hears no further sound. The vibra- 
 tions are active, for some persons hear before the usual num- 
 ber is reached, while others continue to hear beyond the 
 normal limit. The failure to hear does not stop the vibra- 
 tions. Our senses, however, can tell us nothing of vibrations 
 of the air more rapid than thirty-six thousand in a second. 
 Vibrations of the ether produce no sensation unless they 
 are more than c ^trillions in a second, when we get a sensa- 
 tion of heat. We begin to get a sensation of light when 
 they are 392_trillipjijLilx~ a -SCond. As they increase, we 
 pass from one color to another until they reach 757 trillions
 
 PRESENTATION. 6 1 
 
 i'p a gprnnrl j when everything is darkness. The eye can no 
 longer grasp the resultant effect of increased vibration. 
 
 Thus we see that our senses give us only a section of the 
 world's phenomena. If a visitor from another planet were 
 to come to us with a request to be shown terrestrial animals, 
 and if we admitted to his view only such as could pass 
 through a hole of three square feet, we should do for him 
 in an analogous way what our senses do for us. The visi- 
 tor would, of course, not know that we had horses, camels, 
 hippopotami, elephants, and whales. In the same way, our 
 senses usher only certain phenomena into the presence of 
 our minds. If we had three or four new senses added, this 
 might appear like a new world to us ; we might become 
 conscious of a vast number of phenomena, which at present 
 never have any effect upon our nervous organism. It is 
 possible to imagine a race of beings whose senses do not 
 resemble ours, inhabiting other worlds. 
 
 What We Really Know through Sensation. Professor 
 Ziehen rightly says : " It follows that 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 na'fve 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. The nervous apparatus select only certain mo- 
 tions of matter or of ether, which they transform into that 
 form of nerve excitation with which they are familiar. It 
 is only this nerve excitation that we perceive as red, warm, 
 or hard." We have already seen how the same water may 
 seem both hot and cold at the same time to our hands.
 
 62 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 The Quality of Sensations. 
 
 Causes of Difference in Quality. Every sensation has 
 quality and intensity. 
 
 Several factors determine the quality : (i) The differ- 
 ent senses cause sensations of different qualities. A 
 sensation of sound differs from that of sight. (2) The 
 part of the brain into which the nerve current is poured 
 has much to do with determining the quality of sensa- 
 tions from the same stimulus. If electricity stimulates 
 the optic nerve, the effect is transmitted to the occipi- 
 tal lobes, and we have a sensation of light. If the 
 same electrical current is applied to the auditory nerve, 
 the stimulus flows into the temporal lobes, and we get 
 a sensation of sound, ftj The location of the applica- 
 tion of the stimulus changes the quality. If the same 
 pencil is applied with the same force to the cheek, 
 tongue, and eyeball, we get a different tactile sensation 
 in each case. (4) The time for which a stimulus acts 
 changes the quality. After the retina has been fatigued 
 with gazing at red for a long time, a green color may be 
 seen. Fatigue in the brain cells also ensues, and they do 
 not respond in the same way. (Xj The relation of one 
 stimulus to a preceding stimulus changes the quality. 
 This may be proved by tasting different substances, or by 
 looking at different colors in succession. (6) The inter- 
 mittent or moving character of a stimulus affects the 
 quality. A crawling insect gives us a different sensation 
 from a motionless one ; the effects of a flickering light 
 differ from those of a steady flame. (7) The emotional 
 quality of sensations differs, according as they are pleasura- 
 ble, painful, or neutral. 
 
 We shall now consider (3) and (5) at greater length.
 
 PRESENTATION. 63 
 
 (i) has been already dealt with in the first chapter and 
 will be further considered under Perception. 
 
 Local Qualities of Sensation. These are very important 
 because they furnish perception with the data necessary to 
 know our own bodies as extended, and other matter as ex- 
 tended by comparison with them. If we put the points of 
 a pair of compasses a certain distance apart upon the skin, 
 we shall notice two tactile sensations, and in feeling them as 
 two, we know that they are in different places. To cover 
 up a scar on the nose, a bit of skin was transplanted 
 from a patient's forehead. When this patch of skin feltJ 
 pain, his forehead seemed to ache, so definite were the 
 proper local sensations from the grafted skin. 
 
 If a needle were thrust into the foot of a child of ten, he 
 would be in no danger of thinking that the sensation came 
 from his hand. There would be a local difference in the 
 two sensations. This sense of difference becomes gradually 
 more pronounced from infancy, as the discriminating mind 
 notices the unlikeness in the sensations coming from vari- 
 ous parts of the body. No mind can discriminate between 
 things that are perfectly alike, hence there must be original 
 local differences in the sensations. 
 
 Relativity of Sensations. Sensations do not come 
 separately. Each preceding one changes the character of 
 subsequent ones. The following law of relativity may be 
 formulated : All sensations feel the deflecting force of\ 
 others, and differ because of their varying relation tol 
 others./ As a person grows older, sensations become more 
 largely resultants of related factors. 
 
 If any one gazes at a red object for a while and then 
 looks at a gray object, it will appear green. A sound of one 
 
 ^uVi ,
 
 AUK 
 
 64 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 pitch may cause an unusual auditory impression, if immedi- 
 ately preceded by a sound of a different quality. Every 
 one knows how contrast changes taste sensations. We 
 have already had the example of plunging a warm and a 
 cold hand at the same time into lukewarm water. It has 
 been well said that to see only one color would be to see 
 no color at all, that black and white come out in their 
 fullness only when placed beside each other. Our world 
 of sight is made up of color contrasts, for the eye seldom 
 remains fixed long on any one thing. A fusion of sensa- 
 tions always enters into our idea of a thing. Even when 
 we take jelly into our mouths, the resultant sensation is 
 due as much to touch as to taste. 
 
 It is important to remember the law of relativity, for 
 then we shall hot expect a person to get the same sensation 
 as ourselves from a new object, if our previous sensations 
 have differed. Thus, psychology teaches us to understand 
 ourselves and others better. 
 
 After receiving a new sensation, the brain is a changed 
 organ, and it will thereafter react in a changed manner 
 
 The Intensity of Sensations. 
 
 Causes of Difference in Intensity. This depends (i) on 
 the intensity of the stimulus. The sensation of light from 
 a candle is not so intense as that from the sun. (2) The 
 niassiyejiess of a stimulus of the same intensity affects 
 the intensity of the sensation. We are affected differently 
 by plunging one finger or the whole hand into very hot 
 water. (3) The inensity_depends_on the attention we give 
 to the sensation. If we center attention on every slight 
 pain, it gathers in intensity and often unfits us for doing 
 our dut)N (4) The intensity depends on the condition of 
 
 X
 
 PRESENTATION. 65 
 
 O]ir_rnind_aridjbody. If we have a headache, a noise that 
 we should not ordinarily notice may seem unbearable. If 
 we are interested in reading, we may not hear the clock 
 strike. (5) Contrast affects the intensity, as we saw in the 
 preceding section. 
 
 It should be added that the intensity of a sensation may 
 change its quality, and many of the factors in the quality 
 may change the intensity. 
 
 The Threshold of Sensation. There is always inertia to 
 be overcome in rousing nervous matter. A certain amount 
 of stimulus is expended in this. If no more is added, there 
 is no sensation. When the inertia is once overcome, the 
 sensation will persist for a time after the cessation of the 
 stimulus. Atmospheric vibrations at the rate of 10 per 
 second do not sufficiently stimulate the brain to render 
 us conscious of sound. When they reach a minimum 
 of from 1 6 to 30, they enter the threshold of human 
 consciousness ; and at a maximum of 36,000, they pass 
 out by the upper threshold. The cat can hear sounds 
 inaudible to man, and hence has a lower aural threshold. 
 This threshold is not constant, as any one may deter- 
 mine by placing a watch at such a distance that its 
 ticking is just heard. At intervals of about three seconds 
 this will cease to be audible for a short while. Nerve 
 currents, as well as attention, seem to have wave-like 
 characteristics. 
 
 Weber's Law. To increase the intensity in a sensa- 
 tion, a more than corresponding increase in the stimulus 
 is necessary. Fechner stated the law thus : The sensation 
 increases in proportion to the logarithm of the stimulus. 
 
 Within certain limits, any sensory stimulus may be 
 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. C
 
 66 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 augmented without increasing the sensation. We should 
 not perceive increased intensity in a sound when aug- 
 mented one fourth. An ounce might be added to two 
 pounds without detection by the pressure sense. The 
 additional stimulus necessary to increase the intensity of 
 a sensation varies for different senses. Sound must be 
 increased one third ; light, only one one-hundredth. 
 
 This law has only approximate validity for stimuli of 
 medium intensity. When a light gets as bright as the eye 
 will endure, a light one third brighter will not cause an 
 increase in the sensation of light. The gazer at the sun 
 will be blinded, and if an object were twice as bright as 
 the sun, the sensation from gazing at it would be other 
 than that of increased light. Again, with minor stimuli 
 the law has not absolute validity. A strained attention 
 might perceive an increase in a sound when the stimu- 
 lus was increased less than one third. As attention never 
 remains constant, the precise amount of stimulus necessary 
 to increase a sensation will vary in actual life. 
 
 The important truth deduced from this investigation is 
 that a doubled stimulus does not necessarily double the 
 amount of sensation. 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 Functions of Perception. Perception js Jhat_pojKer 
 
 which interprets the raw materials given by sensatiojis. 
 Perception, always aided by the other faculties, gives us 
 our first exact knowledge. Perception may interpret a 
 dark blue color as a bunch of grapes ; a patch of red as 
 an apple ; a rough, prickly sensation as a chestnut bur. 
 An infant has indefinite sensations not interpreted into 
 the grape, the apple, or the bur. To the infant, everything
 
 PRESENTATION. 67 
 
 from the taste of sugar to the touch of silk appears in con- 
 sciousness in a hazy way, simply as a sensation. 
 
 To our mental ear sensations are all the while speak- 
 ing, but their language is unintelligible until perception 
 
 interprets it. (When ap Arab was tried in nnp nf 0]ir 
 criminal COUrta. hiq wnrrls ransprl spngaHftflp in h fo^gft'* 
 
 ears Nit r ""*y p d_fl(LmeaningA An interpreter was called 
 to translate the words. Perception is the interpreter em- 
 ployed by sensation. As we grow older, we understand 
 more fully that a sensation does not exist for itself, but 
 only for what it signifies to perception. We soon cease 
 to pay much attention to the visual sensations coming 
 from individual letters or objects, but hasten to the per- 
 ceptional and rational significations. A hungry person 
 loses little time in hurrying from a sensation of white and 
 brown to the perception of a slice of bread or cake. 
 
 All the Mental Powers are Represented in Perception. 
 
 We name every mental state from its dominant element, 
 just as we call a certain ore " iron," although it also con- 
 tains phosphorus and sulphur. Sensation and perception 
 are closely connected with nerve currents flowing into the 
 brain, while memory and thought need have/ no such 
 immediate connection ; yet perception could not advance a 
 step without aid from the other mental powers. 
 
 Let us take a concrete example to make this clearer. 
 As we walk in June, our eyes give us a sensation of a 
 patch of red color. Memory recalls another sensation. 
 Thought decides the two to be similar. We feel emotional 
 interest in the patch of red color and voluntarily attend to 
 it. We before found that such a patch of red color could 
 be translated into a strawberry. Thought says that this 
 is a similar patch, not such a one as might come from a
 
 58 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 cherry ; therefore this patch of color can be translated into 
 a strawberry. 
 
 When we perceive the strawberry more closely by 
 plucking and eating it, we again traverse the same mental 
 ground. We have a sensation of taste. Were we blind, 
 folded or in the dark when the berry was thrust into the 
 mouth, we should compare the present taste sensation with 
 one before experienced, and conclude that this resembled 
 a former sensation due to the taste of a strawberry. We 
 should feel interest, and voluntarily center attention on the 
 sensation and the process of remembering and comparing. 
 
 Perceptional Interpretation of Special Tactile Sensations 
 from External Objects. When we touch sandpaper, glue, 
 polished marble, velvet, and steel, we have sensations from 
 rough, sticky, smooth, soft, and hard substances ; and these 
 sensations have different qualities which perception notes 
 and assigns to different substances. From the interpreta- 
 tion of these tactile sensations, we form more and more 
 definite ideas of the sandpaper, glue, marble, velvet, steel, 
 and all other matter with which we come in contact. 
 We are handed something in the dark and get a sensation 
 of roughness; we then proceed to translate that sensation 
 into a file. The object may give a temperature sensation 
 of coldness, which we translate into ice. Our cheeks are 
 touched in the dark, and we experience a sensation of soft- 
 ness, which perception interprets as coming from a feather. 
 
 Should we experience a tactile sensation unlike any 
 that we had ever before felt, we should need to have it 
 repeated, to pay voluntary attention to it, to compare it 
 with other sensations, before perception could interpret it. 
 If a person had few sensations from touching a peculiar, 
 cold, clammy substance in the dark, he could not readily
 
 PRESENTATION. 69 
 
 translate them into a lizard. If, when groping around in the 
 pantry, he received a sensation with which he was familiar, 
 he would at once translate it into the proper object or sub- 
 stance. This interpretation would be tactile perception. 
 
 Perception of the Bodily Self in Contrast with External 
 Objects. When we touch our own bodies, we get a double 
 sensation of touching and being touched. This dual sen- 
 sation differs from that experienced from contact with out- 
 side matter, and so we begin to form an idea of self as 
 contrasted with external objects. Whenever we note a 
 difference between things, our ideas are sharpened. Be- 
 fore the infant grows very old, he notices a difference in the 
 sensations received from striking himself and the cradle. 
 At first the infant does not know the limits of his own 
 body. When old enough to nibble at a biscuit, infants 
 have been seen to offer one to their foot to eat, as if 
 that were some disconnected object. Contact with other 
 things, often resulting in bumps and bruises, finally enables 
 the child to know the limits of his frame. The moment 
 he begins to get such knowledge, he marks off the external 
 world from his own body. The child then no longer looks 
 with astonishment at a wriggling foot. The mental gaze 
 is turned toward the outside world, to perceive that. 
 
 Interpretation of the Local Qualities of Tactile Sensations. 
 Touch gives sensations of local difference. We can 
 feel the points of a pair of compasses, now farther apart, 
 and now closer together. Perception uses such data in 
 determining distance. Widen the interval between the 
 two points on the same part of the body, and perception 
 says, " I translate into distance this changed sensation, due 
 to the widening of the space between the points."
 
 7O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 If we had compasses with three points, so that each could 
 touch a different part of the wrist, or if we used three of our 
 fingers in the same way, we should have three local sensa- 
 tions from points not in the same plane surface. Three 
 such different points can be included only in a body that 
 has magnitude, or extent in three directions. From such 
 data, perception gives us an idea of our wrist as a body of 
 three dimensions. We then proceed to compare objects in 
 the external world with parts of our bodies, and to know 
 such objects as distant from us and as having magnitude. 
 
 Perception, using the different local data from tactile 
 nerves, places sensations in various definite parts of the 
 body. The infant experiences pain in an indefinite some- 
 where. Perception watches the difference in sensations 
 from various localities and assigns these sensations to 
 different parts of the body. It is not unusual for persons 
 to complain of feeling pain in an amputated limb. A man^ 
 had the misfortune to lose a foot on which was a trouble- 
 some corn. He afterward complained that this corn gave 
 him great pain. The explanation is that sensations were 
 still conveyed to the brain by the same nerve which for- 
 merly connected with the corn and brought sensations from 
 it. When the exposed end of the amputated nerve after- 
 ward conveyed sensations, perception located them in the 
 same place as before. Prior to amputation, the nerve was 
 affected at its extremity in the foot, and the same inference 
 continued to be drawn from subsequent sensations, due to 
 stimuli at the exposed root of the nerve. 
 
 Interpretation of Combined Tactile and Muscular Sensa- 
 tions. By the blending of our muscular and tactile sensa- 
 tions, perception is enabled to translate the combined data 
 into far more definite knowledge. When we exert the
 
 PRESENTATION. J\ 
 
 proper muscles strongly, we seem to get a sensation all the 
 way through our wrists or arms. The massiveness of 
 these sensations gives us a more direct idea of our limbs 
 as bodies of magnitude. In actual life, muscular sensa- 
 tions always blend with local tactile ones to give percep- 
 tion additional data for perceiving the magnitude of our 
 bodies, and, by comparison, the size of external objects. 
 
 A slight bruise to one of the muscles of a finger gives a 
 less massive sensation than a larger bruise on the arm, 
 trunk, or leg. A sensation from a carbuncle or a sprain is 
 more massive than from a needle thrust into a muscle. 
 When we lift twenty pounds, the sensation is more volu- 
 minous than when we lift two. When we swing our arms or 
 move them around the exterior surface of some object, 
 when we walk or run, when we press against something 
 heavy or light, we get different muscular sensations. 
 Perception busies itself with noting and interpreting these 
 differences. From more or less massive muscular sen- 
 sations due to (i) physical conditions, (2) movement, (3) 
 pressure, (4) weight, we get data which perception uses 
 as a basis for interpreting the magnitude, weight, and 
 resistance of bodies in space. When a blind man wishes 
 to form an idea of the size of a table, he moves his hand 
 around it and tries to reach across it. He relies entirely 
 on sensations from his muscles and nerves of touch. 
 /'Muscular and tactile perception is thus a process of trans- 
 lating the external world into greater or smaller masses in 
 xerms of our bodies. Thus, we say the house is so many 
 " feet " wide ; the horse, so many " hands " high ; the tree, 
 so many "steps" away, or a "stone's throw" distant. 
 That is, there is the distinct element of the muscular effort 
 involved in taking those steps, or in throwing a stone. 
 
 e translate thfiSg miisri^ar sensations
 
 72 ' PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Perception by Visual Sensations. No sense better il- 
 lustrates the interpretive office of perception than sight. 
 A glance at the " raw materials," or different visual data, 
 will make this plain. 
 
 We have (i) sensations of light and color; (2) normally, 
 two retinal images from one object ; (3) each image mir- 
 rored bottom side up on the retina ; (4) part of the fibers 
 from the optic nerve of each eye crossing over, and thus 
 transmitting the sensation to the opposite side of the brain. 
 
 Hence nothing can be more unlike our idea of a thing 
 than the strictly visual antecedents. Consider them in the 
 case of a church, for example. The retinal image has the 
 spire pointing downward, the foundation upward. There 
 are two such images of one church. Some of the fibers of 
 each optic nerve transmit the sensation to the side of the 
 brain opposite to the receiving eye. Such sensations are 
 no more like a church than the word "church" is like the 
 object. Perception, by a peculiar power of its own, trans- 
 lates such bewildering data into one church in the right 
 position in space. 
 
 Muscular Sensations Aid in Visual Perceptions. Every 
 time we move our eyes when looking at things, we 
 have muscular as well as visual sensations. We saw that 
 the eyeball is turned in its socket by various muscles. 
 These incline the eye upward, downward, sideways, and 
 obliquely. With every change in movement there is a 
 change in the muscular sensation. When we look at a 
 near object, there is different muscular tension from that 
 experienced when looking at a distant one. We have 
 already seen that muscular, joined with tactile sensations, 
 supply perception with data for estimating the distance 
 and the magnitude of an object. The data given by mus-
 
 PRESENTATION. 73 
 
 cular sensations in connection with the eyes are just as 
 valuable as in connection with any other sense. These 
 data aid us in visually perceiving objects of three dimen- 
 sions at the proper distance. 
 
 Ocular Movements. We are all familiar with (i) the 
 muscular sensations due to turning the eyeballs in their 
 sockets. When we glance at the top of a tree or spire to 
 estimate its height, there is a muscular sensation from 
 rolling the eyes upward. If we incline them downward to 
 note the distance from a roof to the street, to the bottom 
 of a well, or to the base of a hill ; if we look askance or out 
 of the corners of our eyes at a passing person, we get 
 differing sensations. (2) If we roll both eyes inward, or 
 converge them, to look at a near object ; or, (3) if, in 
 focusing the eye for near or remote objects, we render the 
 lens more or less convex by pulling it with the ciliary 
 muscle, in each case we get a characteristic sensation 
 according to the distance. 
 
 These movements suppose the possession of two eyes. 
 A one-eyed person loses the sensation from convergence. 
 If we hold a needle a foot from our eyes, we must direct 
 them toward each other, or converge them, to see it. If 
 ive close one eye and try to thread a needle, we cannot hit 
 the needle's eye as accurately as when we look at it with ' 
 both eyes. A one-eyed person also loses half the sensation 
 due to focusing, hence he cannot so well judge of distance. 
 
 Purely Visual Sensations Furnished to Perception. 
 
 (i) Different rates of vibration in the luminiferous ether 
 affect the retina differently, and thus cause sensations of 
 color. (2) More or less light comes from the same object 
 according to its distance. (3) The retinal image varies in
 
 74 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 magnitude in inverse proportion to the distance of the 
 object. (4) A body of three dimensions, because seen at 
 a different angle by each eye, does not cause the same 
 image in each eye. If we look at the corner of a book, 
 alternately closing each eye, the right eye sees a little 
 more of one side, the left eye more of the other. This 
 varying image becomes a direct sign for perception to note 
 that bodies have magnitude. When we join to this purely 
 visual sign the muscular and the retinal sensations due to 
 ocular movement, we have all the visual data enabling per- 
 ception to judge of magnitude, and to determine distance ; 
 but it must not be forgotten that perception translates 
 these data into a language of its own*. ^>* 
 
 How Perception Constructs a Field of Vision. When 
 a surgical operation has enabled the blind to see, they 
 have invariably at first declared that objects either touched 
 their eyes or were at no definite distance from them. A 
 landscape with a hill and a forest in the background, a pas- 
 ture with cattle and sheep, a brook with a growth of willows 
 and a white farmhouse in the foreground, were first seen 
 only as blotches of color touching the eye. . Not a single 
 individual element of the landscape was at first perceived. 
 The blotches of color due to the farmhouse and cattle were 
 'not translated into their proper objects. It is the task of 
 perception to find out what such confused sensations of 
 color mean. Only after considerable experience could 
 these persons translate this patch of color into a farmhouse 
 and that into a sheep or a cow, at a proper distance. 
 Infants may amuse us by stretching out their hands for a 
 star or the moon, but a man of thirty just given the power 
 of sight might do the very same thing. 
 
 Perception learns how to construct a field of vision in
 
 PRESENTATION. 75 
 
 several ways: (i) The size of the retinal image and the 
 consequent intensity of the sensation vary with the dis- 
 tance and magnitude of an-ohjejQt. If a distant eagle looks 
 to be about the size of a mosquito near by, we conclude that 
 the eagle must be from a quarter to a half of a mile away ; 
 because on previous occasions we have found that certain 
 objects, to form a retinal image of that size, must be at a 
 given distance, and that, as we approached the object, the 
 retinal image grew larger. In King Lear, Shakespeare 
 uses these words to convey an idea of the height of a 
 cliff :- 
 
 " The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
 Appear like mice." 
 
 (2) We judge of the distance or depth in space by (a) 
 variations of light and sliade. The painter by imitating 
 this color quality in natural objects gives us an idea of per- 
 spective on canvas, (b) The sharpness or dimness of out- 
 line enables us to estimate distance. The artist will not 
 paint a remote object with as distinct an outline as a near 
 one. When we look at objects through a fog, the retinal 
 image is the same size as if there were no fog, but the 
 indistinctness suggests vast distance. An object would 
 have to be very large to produce a retinal image of that 
 size at such a distance. Hence a comparatively small 
 object often seems immense. 
 
 (3) The number of intervening objects affects our per 
 ception of distance and extent of space. A landsman at 
 sea has a very poor idea of distance, because on the land he 
 has been accustomed to form his estimates by the help of 
 intervening objects. A person was once heard to exclaim 
 that a certain harbor had doubled in size since the day before, 
 when no vessels were at anchor there. During the night
 
 76 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 a storm arose ; many vessels sailed into the haven, anchor- 
 ing at irregular intervals, and causing its apparent increase 
 in size. When the moon rises, it frequently appears very 
 large. There are so many objects intervening between 
 us and it, that we unconsciously think it at a greater 
 distance than when it is near the zenith. As an object 
 must have increased in size in order to give a retinal 
 image of the same size at a greater distance, we infer that 
 the magnitude of the moon is increased when we gaze at 
 it as it rises. 
 
 (4) The motion of objects across the field of vision, 
 either by movement of our own eyeballs or of our entire 
 persons, affects our idea of distance. The retina has only 
 one small spot which images things with the greatest dis- 
 tinctness. Since clearness of image is one of the means 
 by which we judge of distance, the importance of move- 
 ment is manifest. Infants have been observed to move 
 their eyes so as to bring out the image more distinctly. 
 
 Again, when traveling by rail, we can judge of the dis- 
 tance of objects by the rapidity with which they pass the 
 field of vision. A Jiear object seems to travel much faster 
 than a remote one. A telegraph pole near the track will 
 whiz by, while a distant tree will appear to have a much 
 slower motion. 
 
 (5) The use which perception makes of the muscular 
 data in connection with rolling the eyes, converging and 
 focusing them, has already been sufficiently noticed. 
 
 The field of sight is therefore a perceptional interpreta- 
 tion of many complex data of sensation. 
 
 Quickness of Perception. After visual perception has, 
 through experience, become definite, a flash of lightning 
 will reveal the individual elements in a landscape in their
 
 PRESENTATION. 77 
 
 proper positions in space without help from the muscular 
 sensations involved in using the eyes. Dr. Ziehen says : 
 " We find the wonderful rapidity with which this arrange- 
 ment of the sensations is accomplished inconceivable ; at 
 once and without a moment's thought the image is before 
 us, well arranged and unmarred by the slightest error. To 
 be sure, a process of evolution extending through almost 
 endless ages was necessary to produce and train a cortical 
 (cerebral) apparatus of vision that can react with such 
 fitness. The newborn animal or child inherits this appa- 
 ratus. Each single individual does not need to acquire 
 it again laboriously, but only to learn to use it." In some 
 respects the brain of a young chicken, quail, and partridge 
 is more wonderful than that of man, for almost as soon as 
 hatched they perceive an individual object in space at the 
 right distance. They will peck at an insect with the 
 proper amount of muscular effort, and will not run against 
 objects in their path, as a man would after having been 
 restored to sight. 
 
 Perception by Aural Sensations. We saw, in discussing 
 the sense of hearing, that certain different sensations, due 
 to pitch, intensity, quality and harmony, accompanied the 
 use of the ear. These are the raw materials from which 
 perception constructs its world of sound. 
 
 In actual life we (i) locate sounds in space, and (2) 
 assign them to their causes. A sound seldom affects both 
 ears with equal intensity, hence we obtain a clue to the 
 direction of the sound. We assign sounds to certain 
 distances in space, largely on account of their inten- 
 sity. We put the faint roar of a locomotive at a great 
 distance. 
 
 Aural inferences often land us in error. A person, one
 
 78 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 summer evening after retiring, became very restless because 
 he was sure that he heard a mosquito. The steps by which 
 he reasoned up to that conclusion were these : 
 
 On previous occasions a mosquito was the cause of such a hum- 
 ming sound. 
 
 The present case resembles those former instances. 
 A mosquito is, therefore, the cause of this noise. 
 
 On this occasion, however, the sound which he really 
 heard was the low whistle of a distant locomotive. He 
 was misled by the similarity of the sounds into the infer- 
 ence that the noise was due to a mosquito. The mocking 
 bird, the catbird, and the ventriloquist are frequently the 
 cause of erroneous inferences. 
 
 As ou'r experience widens, we learn to associate sounds 
 of various qualities with the objects which produce them. 
 In the dark we could tell that certain sounds were caused by 
 a harp, a piano, an organ, a flute, a dog, a lamb, a cow, 
 or a bird. 
 
 The perception of harmony depends partially on agree- 
 able sensations due to a peculiar stimulus of the auditory 
 apparatus, and partially on the discrimination and com- 
 parison of aural sensations. 
 
 Aural Perceptions not so Accurate as Those of Sight 
 and Touch. While it is probably true that the interior of 
 the ear has delicate muscles and tactile nerves which give 
 signs to aid in the perception of sounds in space, it is a fact 
 that these data, added to those of intensity and unequal 
 stimulation of the two ears, do not enable perception to 
 localize sounds with trustworthy accuracy. The United 
 States Hydrographic Office, in order to give warning of the 
 untrustworthiness of fog signals, has printed in red ink on
 
 PRESENTATION. 79 
 
 some of its pilot charts that there are "shipwrecks caused 
 by the insistence of mariners on the infallibility of their 
 ears, who have accepted unquestioned the guidance of fog 
 signals as they do that of lighthouses during clear weather. 
 Audition is subject to aberrations, and under circum- 
 stances where little expected. .Implicit reliance on sound 
 signals often leads to danger, if not death." 
 
 Perceptions of Smell. We have seen that sensations 
 of smell do not admit of accurate classification. They 
 occupy a relatively small place in the mental life of most 
 persons. In the case of many brutes, however, we find that 
 smell is the most accurate sense. The dog will recognize 
 his master and track game most easily by the odor. Our 
 olfactory perceptions are most alert for those sensations 
 which indicate the presence of something harmful or 
 pleasant, hence odors are most commonly classified as 
 putrid and sweet. 
 
 By experience we learn to connect many odors with the 
 objects emitting them. An odor from an unseen source 
 comes in through the open window, and we say, " How 
 sweet those roses smell," or, "There must be a magnolia 
 tree in blossom somewhere near," or, " They must be hav- 
 ing codfish for dinner next door." Where persons are 
 both blind and deaf, the number of the acquired percep- 
 tions of smell is frequently astonishing. Dr. Howe, in the 
 Forty-third Report of the Massachusetts Asylum for the 
 Blind, is authority for the statement that Julia Brace, a 
 blind and deaf mute, could instantly recognize a person 
 she had met before as soon as she caught the odor from 
 his glove or hand. This sightless girl was actually 
 employed to sort all the clothing of pupils after it came 
 from the wash. Her power of smell, in definiteness and
 
 8O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 vividness, must have surpassed the sense of sight in most 
 persons. 
 
 Perceptions of Taste. Perception distinguishes easily 
 between four taste sensations, bitter, sweet, sour, and 
 salt. There are also numerous others which are products 
 of both taste and smell. When, in the dark, we dis- 
 tinguish one article of food from another, perception is 
 interpreting taste sensations. How much such perceptions 
 depend on sight and smell is well brought out when "taste 
 prizes " are given. The tasters have their eyes covered 
 and a bottle of perfumery held under the nostrils while 
 some one puts food into the mouth. Mistakes are very 
 common in the case of such common edibles as chicken, 
 turkey, veal, beef, lamb, venison, and quail. 
 
 Some persons make it their business to cultivate percep- 
 tions of taste. The definite conclusions reached by tasters 
 of teas and wines seem almost miraculous. Savarin, a 
 French writer on taste, instances Roman epicures who 
 could decide from the taste of fish whether they lived 
 above or below a certain bridge, and he also tells us of 
 modern gourmands who knew from the taste of the joint 
 on which leg a partridge was accustomed to sleep, and of 
 connoisseurs who could tell under what latitude a wine was 
 produced as accurately as an astronomer can predict anj 
 eclipse. 
 
 Reasoning Involved in Perception. As we shall see 
 later, comparison is the basis of reasoning. When we 
 perceive, we compare one sensation with others, or with 
 the memories of others. Not until we notice a likeness and 
 a difference between sensations can we perceive. If the 
 sensations from a tree and a sheep were the same, we could 
 not tell them apart. Sometimes frescoing deceives us
 
 PRESENTATION. 8 1 
 
 because the ocular sensations from that and from carvings 
 in relief are the same. 
 
 The mental process in the case of a person who touched 
 a chestnut bur in the dark would be this : 
 
 Sensations from a chestnut bur alone have this peculiar rough 
 quality. 
 
 The present sensation has this quality. 
 
 This sensation must come from a chestnut bur. 
 
 In translating a visual sensation into an orange, we 
 should reason thus : 
 
 Sensations of this peculiar quality have previously been found to be 
 caused by an orange. 
 
 The present sensation has this quality. 
 
 The present sensation is caused by an orange. 
 
 If a rose were held close to our nostrils in the dark 
 without touching them, we should translate the olfactory 
 sensation into a rose in this way : Previous odorous sen- 
 sations similar to this have been due to a rose, therefore 
 this must mean a rose. If a piece of peach were put into 
 the mouth when we were blindfolded, we should at once 
 interpret the sensation as due to a peach, because of 
 resemblance to previous sensations from tasting peaches. 
 We hear a peculiar resonant noise and say that some one 
 is beating on a drum, because previous similar jensations 
 have been found to spring from such a source^ #3,/ 
 
 jf Transferred Perceptions. A transferred perception is 
 one that takes data from one sense in order to draw~a-con- 
 cluaion that primarily depends on data furnished_byjin other 
 geusey Perception may draw tactile conclusions from the 
 sense of sight, visual conclusions from the sense of touch, 
 in short, any conclusion immediately proper to one sense 
 from any other sense. We glance at a chestnut bur and 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 6 .
 
 82 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 say that it looks rough. The sense of touch alone can 
 primarily determine whether an object is rough. We con- 
 clude that the bur is rough because certain variations of 
 light and shade have been found to be associated with 
 uneven surfaces. The process of reasoning employed is as 
 follows : 
 
 All substances with this appearance have, when touched, proved to 
 be rough. 
 
 This substance has this appearance. 
 It will prove rough to touch. 
 
 The doctor taps on a man's chest and hears a dull 
 sound. The physician at once says that tubercles have 
 formed, although he can neither see nor touch them. He 
 plainly cannot hear them, and yet he decides from the 
 sound emitted that they are there. He reasons thus: 
 
 Autopsies have proved to sight and touch that previous cases of a 
 peculiar lack of resonance were due to tubercles. 
 
 This case resembles those. 
 
 An autopsy would prove to sight and touch the existence of tubeh- 
 cles in this case. 
 
 If the physician could not have used transferred per- 
 ception, he would have been compelled to cut the patient 
 open in order to demonstrate by sight and touch the 
 existence of the tubercles. The importance of the trans- 
 ferred perceptions is apparent. We can determine from 
 the sound by tapping on a barrel, without the trouble of 
 unheading it, whether it is empty. Without such percep- 
 tions as these, we could not tell from the sense of sight, 
 that a glowing red iron would feel hot. We should be 
 obliged to touch it. 
 
 Mature perception employs the sense most easily used 
 to draw conclusions for another sense. As we grow older,
 
 PRESENTATION. 83 
 
 we save a vast amount of time and trouble in this way. 
 
 nf rmr Irnrtwjprlffp mm PS through infp.rpjirp 
 
 What is a Perceived Object? (A perceived object is one 
 known to have a certain place in space, to possess certain 
 qualities believed to inhere in it, and to exist now in regard 
 to time.) It is the business of perception to localize and 
 objectify. We perceive an apple visually when we have 
 placed it at the proper distance on a tree, and when we 
 have projected the color sensation from our eyes into the 
 apple. In other words, we locate the apple and transfer 
 the sensation of color from our subjective sense to the 
 object, the apple. Perception always regards a sensation 
 as a quality belonging to some object. 
 
 A perception of a thing is not a product of one sense, but 
 a fabric woven of material from all. An apple is an object 
 our idea of which is formed from tactile, muscular, visual, 
 auditory, olfactory, gustatory, and temperature sensations. 
 Knowledge of the apple gained through sight alone would 
 be very incomplete. 
 
 The fusion of sensations into a finished perceptional prod- 
 uct is absolutely necessary. A blind man, from sensations 
 of touch, was very familiar with a cat. When he was en- 
 abled to see, he did not recognize her when she came into 
 the room. He had to pick her up before he knew what such 
 a visible object was. Even after he had handled her and 
 looked at her at the same time, he was a long while in so 
 fusing his sensations that he could recognize her by sight. 
 
 The explanation of the origin of our ideas of space and 
 time must be left to metaphysics. It is the business of] 
 psychology only to notice how the mind actually works,/ 
 not to explain how it is possible for it to work thus./ 
 The physicist does not try to explain how matter origi-
 
 84 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 nally got the power of exerting the pulling force of gravity 
 across millions of miles of space. He simply notices how 
 that force actually works, and he finds out that the power 
 of gravity is inversely proportional to the square of the 
 distance. So the mind has the power of locating its own 
 sensations in matter, transferring the color and taste to 
 the strawberry, the sound to the organ, the odor to the 
 rose, the sensation of softness to the feather. We have 
 shown the steps in the process, but have not explained how 
 the mind originally got the power to take a single step. 
 
 APPERCEPTION. 
 
 Meaning of the Term. This term is frequently met 
 with in German writers ; although some modern psy- 
 chologists decline to use it, we may acquire a new point 
 of view of our mental life by regarding apperception as 
 the perception of things in relation to the ideas 
 
 we already possess. An illustration will make this defini- 
 tion clear. There is a story of a boy who concealed 
 himself in a tree and watched the passers. When one 
 man remarked to his friend what a fine stick of timber 
 the tree would make, the boy said, "Good morning, Mr. 
 Carpenter." Soon another passer said, "That is good 
 bark." "Good morning, Mr. Tanner." Presently a young 
 man remarked, " I'll venture there's a squirrel's nest in 
 that tree." "Good morning, Mr. Hunter." In one sense 
 those men saw exactly the same tree, had the same sensa- 
 tions of color and light from the same object ; but from 
 the way the men apperceived the tree, the boy was able 
 to tell their leading vocations. Each apperceived the tree 
 in terms of his most prominent experience. 
 
 In one sense perception is an apperceiving process, for
 
 PRESENTATION. 85 
 
 each new sensation is biased by previous sensations ; each 
 new perception, by previous perceptions. Association is 
 one form of apperception ; thinking, another. For this 
 reason we shall treat the subject very briefly here, but we 
 shall return to it under the guise of association and thought. 
 
 The Apperception of an Object Differs with Individuals. 
 We always^ jsee_things in terms of our past experience. 
 and not as the things actually are The truths of our 
 world are determined by what we see, but we for the 
 most part see only those things which we can join to some- 
 thing in our line of experience. Other things do not exist 
 for us. Their truths are not a part of our world. The 
 brain is a changed organ after each sensation or percep- 
 tion. Any new perception must feel the deflecting force 
 
 c c A.- Cj*NOi*A ft*? TYNM-QiU, oL \jLjS, *fau-gy3 ' 
 
 of former perceptions. 
 
 A U- 1 
 
 A woman may apperceive a passing bird as an ornament 
 to her bonnet ; a fruit grower, as an insect killer ; a poet, 
 as a songster ; an artist, as a fine bit of coloring and form. 
 The housewife may apperceive old rags as something to 
 be thrown away ; a ragpicker, as something to be gathered 
 up. A carpenter, a botanist, an ornithologist, a hunter, and 
 a geologist walking through a forest would not see the 
 same things. These men would have brains which would 
 respond differently to the same stimuli. The ornithologist 
 might hear every bird note ; the botanist with equally keen 
 ears might not have an auditory sensation of sufficient 
 intensity to affect consciousness. 
 
 Brief Statements of Some Important Apperceptive Truths. 
 I. When we look at a new object, memories of sensa- 
 tions from partially similar past objects will always exert 
 a deflecting force. When the South-Sea Islanders first
 
 86 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 saw a goat, they apperceived it as a hog, with which they 
 were familiar. 
 
 II. We must know the entire previous history of a man's 
 consciousness to be able to tell how he will see a certain 
 thing, for memories of past sensations bias his ways of 
 regarding it. The judges of the Supreme Court and the 
 members of a jury often bring in a different verdict from 
 precisely the same testimony. 
 
 III. The expression, " None so blind as those who will not 
 see," often means, none so blind as those who cannot see. 
 Past sensations and perceptions have biased the man so that 
 he has only one point of view from which to regard the fact. 
 The owner of a silver mine must be expected to look at its 
 product differently from other people. The slave was af 
 different being in the eye of his master and of those who 
 owned no slaves. 
 
 IV. Later in life perception comes either to disregard new 
 sensations or to forcibly liken them to old ones. It works 
 like the fabled Grecian monster, who made all guests fit his 
 bed : if too tall, he cut off their feet ; if too short, he had 
 the visitors stretched. Thus men become what are popu- 
 larly termed "old fogies." They regard a new discovery 
 or fact in an old way. They assured Columbus that men 
 coukl not walk on the opposite side of the earth with their 
 heads down and their feet up. 
 
 V. Whatever we learn early in life will influence us for 
 all future time. If we are taught to regard a thing in a 
 certain light now, all our subsequent perceptions will be 
 colored by that light. An intelligent man said that he 
 disliked Milton and had read but little of him. That man 
 acquired that way of regarding Milton from a former 
 teacher.' ! '. If we go with vicious associates who have false 
 views of life, they may soon become our views and all our
 
 PRESENTATION. 87 
 
 subsequent actions may be colored by them. We may 
 as well expect our bodies to escape the force of gravity 
 as our minds to elude the deflecting power of all former 
 associations and experience. 
 
 ILLUSIONS. 
 
 Causes of Illusions. We shall here consider only those 
 cases of illusion where the external object does not corre- 
 spond to the perceptional idea. 
 
 . There is sometimes primary illusion of the senses. 
 Whenever gray looks green on a red background, the eye 
 deceives us, for its primary business is to report shades of 
 color correctly. Whenever we see one object double, the 
 cause of the illusion is not due to mental inference, but to 
 lack of correlation in the organs of sense. The senses 
 would foist more illusions on us than they do, were it not 
 for the fact that the mind refuses to heed these illusory 
 sensations. 
 
 i There are illusions due to misinterpretation of exter- 
 
 , , . . . . . 1-11., 
 
 nal objects. A lace curtain in a moonlit chamber is taken 
 a ghost. A bush in the darkness becomes a robber or 
 a wild beast. In these cases an external object exists, but 
 it is misinterpreted. Imaginative activity builds a large 
 structure on a very slight foundation of reality. A white 
 garment hanging up in an indistinct light makes some 
 persons sure that they have seen a ghost. 
 
 When one part of a newly perceived object is the same as 
 part of something formerly seen, the like part tends to set in 
 action the entire brain tract formerly engaged in perceiving 
 the known object. Relying on a quick glance out of the 
 window, we could take an oath that we saw a certain 
 friend coming. We afterward find that he was not in town
 
 88 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 that day. The hat and height of the person seen indicated 
 our friend. These set in action a portion of the brain tract 
 formerly concerned in seeing our friend, and the excitement 
 spread until that entire tract was as active as if sensation 
 currents from actually seeing the features of the friend had 
 poured into those brain cells. A person wishing to pur- 
 chase Madame D'Arblay's works, saw them catalogued on 
 the page before him, just as his attention was called away 
 for a second. He was amazed to find that her name had dis- 
 appeared from the page when he looked at it again. He had 
 really seen the name of Madame D' Aulnoy. The similarity 
 of the first part had aroused the brain tract concerned in 
 remembering Madame D'Arblay, and he was sure that he 
 saw her name. 
 
 III. There are illusive perceptions due to no present ex- 
 ternal cause. These internally originated illusions are 
 often called hallucinations. Our dreams are common illus- 
 trations of these. We seem actually to see wild animals 
 chasing us, to be behind a runaway horse, etc. The cause 
 of these imaginary perceptions is in our brains. 
 
 A cerebral memory cell may sometimes be roused to as 
 great activity as if a current from actually perceiving that 
 object poured into that cell. Owing to intense longing for 
 an absent friend, a certain brain tract may have the same 
 activity as when we saw him. The sign by which percep- 
 tion judges being the same in both cases, we actually seem 
 to see him. We have already noticed that perception will 
 not always enable us to tell whether a bell is still ringing, 
 or we are merely remembering the sound. 
 
 Sometimes a diseased condition of the nerves will cause 
 /illusions. The optic nerve may transmit sensations of 
 ( sight without external cause. The abnormal Condition 
 auditory nerves may cause us to hear sound.
 
 Q^> 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF PERCEPTION. 
 
 Time for the Cultivation of Perception. Youth is pre- 
 eminently the time for cultivating any of the faculties. 
 An ounce of effort then will avail as much as a. ton of 
 effort later. Of all the mental powers, perception is the 
 most difficult to cultivate after the age of twenty. If a 
 person is not a good perceiver by that time, in ninety-nine 
 cases out of a hundred he will never become one. %je may 
 cultivate the thinking faculty with great success in the 
 twenties, not so the perceptiye. 
 
 There is an immense amount of energy in the young 
 which needs direction, and it is most properly directed 
 when used in becoming acquainted with the world. At 
 birth, man comes into a strange land which he must learn 
 to know through perception. This is certainly a sufficient 
 outlet for his energies for many a day. 
 
 If young people are so fortunate as to go around with an 
 acute observer, their energy will be naturally turned in the 
 right direction. They will speedily try to rival each other 
 in acute perception, when they notice that he, in his 
 rambles, observes every wild flower, every bird, every 
 curiously shaped leaf, every insect and wild animal. 
 Houdin, the magician, spent a month in cultivating his 
 perceptive faculties and those of his son, by looking very 
 carefully as they rapidly passed the window of a toyshop 
 
 89
 
 90 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 or other store making a large display. Then each noted 
 down the number of things that he had seen. Here 
 the superiority of youth over age was manifested. The 
 boy became so expert that one glance at a window would 
 enable him to write down forty different objects. 
 
 Keen Perceptive Faculties Demanded for Success and 
 -.^.Enjoyment. This world.is.au urganizexLbody for shoving 
 .the ign orant -ordncapable to .the, wall, that their space may 
 be better occupied by fitter persons. Darwin announced 
 10-tu^JtL this truth by the famous expression, " the survival of the 
 I fittest." Excellence in perception is one of the factors 
 that enable a person to survive in competition, which 
 grows fiercer every year. The tricks of trade are many, 
 and they claim as their special victims those whose .per- 
 ceptive powers are deficient. A lady went into a certain 
 store to buy a lace collar. It so happened that none but 
 the cheaper grades were in stock, and these did not suit 
 her. The tradesman soon saw that she could not tell the 
 difference between a fine and a coarse grade, or a machine 
 and a hand made article, so he kept making new discoveries 
 in his stock and raising the price each time. He noticed 
 that she was better pleased as the price rose, and so he sold 
 her "a fine imported" specimen for twelve dollars, which 
 was eleven dollars more than he had at first asked her for 
 the same grade. This was a case where careful inspection 
 could have detected the fraud. 
 
 Cultivated perceptive faculties are as important for 
 enjoyment as for material success. A shrewd Scotchman 
 remarked that many persons well versed in books got only 
 a small fraction of possible enjoyment from traveling. No 
 matter whether they went on a simple Highland excursion 
 or over the continent of Europe, they sawJbut Jit.tle becaus4_
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF PERCEPTION. 91 
 
 they hadjiever been trainH tn habits of rinse observation 
 Many a person, after returning from a foreign tour, reads 
 works of travel describing the same localities, and wonders 
 why he saw so little when others saw so much. 
 
 One misses three quarters of the enjoyment coming 
 from many literary masterpieces, if he cannot interpret 
 and feel them in the light of his own perceptions. 
 
 " Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide." 
 
 i 
 
 There can never be sympathetic interpretation of pas- 
 sages like this, unless they awaken memories based on 
 similar perceptions. Fortunately most of us, as well as 
 the poets, can see without cost the brooks, meadows, 
 flowers, flocks, clouds, and stars. 
 
 Books versus Perception. With the cheapening of 
 books and the regorLto them fof4ftfefmation on almost -all 
 
 young ought to be taught not to read about anything!^ 
 which they can see for themselves, until they have first 
 learned all they can by the aid of their senses. Whatever 
 any one discovers for himself will be much better known 
 than what he reads about or has some one tell him. The 
 Indian who had never read a book never failed to notice 
 an upturned leaf, a broken twig, a film of smoke, a slight 
 indentation of the ground, or anything that served to indi- 
 cate the presence of an enemy or of game. The hunters 
 of Kentucky found that they must either go to the wall in 
 competition with the red man or cultivate their perceptive 
 (acuities so as to cope with him better. The hunters set 
 to work with a will to make use of their senses and soon 
 saw as much as the Indian.
 
 
 92 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 One reason why some uneducated men are so successful 
 in business is because they are such excellent observers. 
 Instead of poring over books, these men, moving around 
 in the busy world, learn facts at first hand. The head of 
 a large firm, when asked why he employed such an igno- 
 rant man for a buyer, replied: "It is true that our buyer 
 cannot spell correctly, and he has probably never read a 
 book through, but when anything comes within range of 
 his eyes, he sees all there is to be seen. He buys over a 
 million dollars' worth a year for us, and I cannot recall any 
 instance when he failed to notice a defect in any line of 
 goods, or any feature which would be likely to render them 
 unsalable. I shall never put in a bookish man as a buyer, 
 because he will not see anything unless a book first points 
 it out to him." This business man's verdict was the result 
 of observation, which he said was superior to theory. While 
 there is nothing that forbids a proper combination of books 
 and the use of our senses at first hand, such a combina- 
 tion is seldom made. 
 
 Longfellow's stanza, relating to Agassiz, shows that the 
 printed page did not yield the great scientist the most im- 
 portant or the most interesting facts : 
 
 " And Nature, the old nurse, took 
 
 The child upon her knee, 
 Saying, ' Here is a story book 
 Thy Father has written for thee.'" 
 
 Necessity of Concentrated Attention. A body may be 
 imaged on the retina without insuring perception. There 
 must be an effort to concentrate the attention upon the 
 many things which the world presents to our senses. A 
 man once said to the pupils of a large school, all of 
 whom had often seen cows : " I should like to find out
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF PERCEPTION. 93 
 
 how many of you know whether a cow's ears are above, 
 below, behind, or in front of her horns. I want only 
 those pupils to raise their hand who are sure about the 
 
 X 
 
 position and who will promise to give a dollar to charity 
 if they answer wrong." Only two hands were raised. 
 Their owners had drawn cows, and in order to do that 
 had been forced to concentrate their attention upon the 
 animals. Fifteen pupils were sure that they had seen 
 cats climb trees and descend them. There was una- 
 nimity of opinion that the cats went up head first. When 
 asked whether the cats came down head or tail first, the 
 majority were sure that the cats descended as they were 
 never known to do. Any one who had ever noticed the 
 shape of the claws of any beast of prey could have answered 
 that question without seeing an actual descent. 
 
 Farmers' boys, who have often seen cows and horses lie 
 down and rise, are seldom sure whether the animals rise 
 with their fore or hind feet first, or whether the habit of the 
 horse agrees with that of the cow in this respect. The elm 
 tree has about its leaf a peculiarity which all ought to 
 notice the first time they see it, and yet only about five 
 per cent of a certain school could incorporate in a drawing 
 this peculiarity, although it is so easily outlined on paper. 
 Perception, to achieve satisfactory results, must summon 
 the will to its aid to concentrate the attention. Only the 
 smallest part of what falls upon our senses at any time is 
 actually perceived. 
 
 How to Perceive Things. To look at A thing intelli- 
 gently_JsJhe most difficult of all arts. 
 
 The first rule for the cultivation of accurate perception 
 is : / s Do not try to perceive the whole of a complex object aj 
 once. Take the human face as an example. A man, hold-
 
 94 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 mg an important position to which he had been elected, "' 
 offended many people because he could not remembeijL^ 
 faces, and hence failed to recognize individuals the second * 
 time he met them. His trouble was in looking at the ; 
 countenance as a whole. When he changed his method of 
 observation, and noticed carefully the nose, mouth, eyes, 
 chin, and color of hair, he at once began to find recognition 
 easier. He was no longer in danger of mistaking A for B, 
 since he remembered that the shape of B's nose was differ- 
 ent, or the color of his hair at least three shades lighter. 
 
 This example shows that another rule can be formulated : 
 Pay careful attention to details. We are perhaps asked to ^ 
 give a minute description of the exterior of a somewhat cS 
 noted suburban house that we have lately seen. We reply C 
 in general terms, giving the size and color of the house. - 
 Perhaps we also have an idea of part of the material used^r 
 in the exterior construction. We are asked to be exact , 
 about the shape of the door, porch, roof, chimneys, and win- \ 
 dows ; whether the windows are plane or circular, whether^ 
 they have cornices, or whether the trimmings around them o 
 are of the same material as the rest of the house. A friend, ' - 
 who will be unable to see the house, wishes to know defi-^ 
 nitely about the angles of the roof and the way the win- 
 dows are arranged with reference to them. Unless we ^ 
 can answer these questions exactly, we merely tantalize our 
 friends by telling them we have seen the house. To see 
 an object merely as an undiscriminated mass of something 
 in a certain place, is to do no more than a donkey accom 
 plishes as he trots along.)^ 
 
 Agassiz's Method. Agassiz's pupils usually had excel- 
 lently trained perceptive faculties as one result of his 
 teaching. Since his pupils generally succeeded well in life. 

 
 THE CULTIVATION OF PERCEPTION. 95 
 
 it will be profitable to notice how he trained them. A 
 certain student who wished to be well grounded in zoology 
 presented himself at the professor's laboratory one morning. 
 The professor immediately pulled a fish out of its jar of 
 alcohol, and said : " You are to look at this fish carefully 
 and tell me when I return how much you have seen. You 
 must not cut it nor use any instruments upon it." 
 
 The professor then left the student alone with the 
 specimen. The student had seen fish before. He knew 
 that they were oblong objects with fins and scales, but he 
 looked at that special fish for ten long minutes. He was 
 then sure that he had seen all that was visible from the 
 outside, and he started to tell the professor so. The 
 museum was carefully searched, but the thoughtless in- 
 structor had left the building. There was nothing for the 
 disgusted student to do but to return to stare at the unin- 
 teresting fish. Feeling that his time was too valuable to 
 be wasted in this way, he nevertheless looked at the fish 
 for a half hour without seeing anything. Then he turned 
 the fish over. He looked it in the face ; he gazed at 
 it from above, below, behind. Two hours passed and 
 he was inexpressibly disgusted. He knew that it was a 
 fish ; but he was sure of that before he came to the great 
 Agassiz. 
 
 The student then put the fish in the jar and went to 
 lunch. When he returned he found that the professor had 
 been there and gone away somewhere to remain for several 
 hours. It seemed strange that such a man should be 
 wanted for a teacher. Again the disgusted student stared 
 at the fish. This was growing tiresome, and, to amuse 
 himself, he began to count the scales. Feeling that this 
 was nonsense, a happy thought struck him, and he proceeded 
 to draw the fish. He had just made the interesting dis-
 
 96 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE 
 
 covery that the fish had no eyelids, when Agassiz returned 
 and remarked that a pencil was the best of eyes. He 
 asked the student to tell what he had seen and looked 
 disappointed at the shortness of the recital. " You have 
 not looked very carefully, keep on looking," said Agassiz, 
 who then left the room. 
 
 The student then went to work with a will, and, with his 
 pencil, he began to make discoveries, and to wonder how 
 it was possible for him to see so little at first. For three 
 long days 'he was made to gaze at the fish. Agassiz 
 would occasionally return to listen to a recital of new dis- 
 coveries, but would answer no questions. In after years 
 the student said: "This was the best zoological lesson I 
 ever had, a lesson whose influence has extended to the 
 details of every subsequent study ; a legacy the professor 
 has left to me, as he left it to many others, of inestimable 
 value, which we could not buy, with which we cannot 
 part." 
 
 If Agassiz had been an inferior teacher, he might have 
 been afraid of being charged with wasting his pupils' time, 
 and he might have answered questions which the pupils 
 should have asked of their own senses alone. 
 
 A grasshopper is to most persons merely an oblong 
 insect, capable of jumping. Agassiz's pupils say that after 
 he had compelled them to find out a world of interesting 
 matter about it, they would sometimes go to hear him 
 deliver a popular lecture. They noticed that the audience 
 became as much interested in the grasshopper as if he 
 were reading from a romance. 
 
 The Best Studies for the Cultivation of Perception. 
 
 Any study is good which compels the student to learn 
 facts from his own senses. One study of this class is per-
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF PERCEPTION. 97 
 
 haps as good as another. Botany is excellent, if one goes 
 out into the fields and studies actual flowers ; but it is a 
 very poor study if one gathers the facts mainly from a 
 text-book. All of the natural sciences afford unusual 
 opportunity for using the senses. Among these sciences 
 may be mentioned physics, geology, ornithology, ento- 
 mology, botany. They all require the most searching use 
 of the perceptive faculties. In connection with them, 
 drawing should be taught. If any one wishes to find out 
 how imperfectly he has perceived anything, let him under- 
 take to draw it. In order to draw well, one must perceive 
 well. 
 
 In general, the scenes amid which we move every day 
 furnish excellent object lessons for our perceptive faculties. 
 Every time we enter a street car we see different types of 
 people, and there is a great deal to be noticed about each 
 type. /Every human countenance shows its past history 
 to the one who knows how to look./ Whenever we take a 
 walk, there is vastly more to see than we have time to 
 inspect. No one can complain that the most ordinary life 
 does not furnish sufficient materials with which to culti- 
 vate perception. In the most remote backwoods there are 
 always the clouds, the flowers, the birds, the trees, the 
 animals, the stars. Mother Earth tries to entertain us by 
 shifting the scenery from day to day and from season to 
 season. The only trouble is we will not look. Having 
 eyes we do not see, and having ears we do not hear. The 
 scenery of the heavens is more magnificent on a clear night 
 than anything that was ever put on an artificial stage. 
 A good pair of eyes are required to trace out the different 
 constellations and to recognize them in their constantly 
 shifting positions. When one is familiar with the myths 
 which the brightest race that ever lived has woven about 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 7
 
 9 tf PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 these constellations, he can look at the heavens as he 
 would at the pages of a grand romance. Things fit for 
 the enjoyment and instruction of a prince are every day 
 lost to the poor observer. 
 
 Methods for Cultivating Rapidity of Perception. Life 
 is short and there are many things to see. Existence 
 yields the most to him whose mental faculties work the 
 quickest. Thirty years measure a longer life span for 
 some than seventy for others. Some persons will take 
 in more at one glance than others do from torpidly staring 
 around for half an hour. 
 
 Criminals have some excellent methods for training the 
 young. An instructor in the department of thievery will 
 place on the palm of his hand a number of objects, say a 
 coin, a chestnut, a button, a key, and a bean. He will 
 unclasp his hand for a second before a number of boys, 
 who are expected not only to name all the objects, but to 
 describe them. For instance, the value of the coin must 
 be given and the shape of the key accurately described 
 or drawn on paper or in the dirt. Then the instructor 
 will, perhaps, substitute a hazelnut for the chestnut and 
 a pea for the bean, but woe be to the boy who does not 
 instantaneously detect the difference. These boys are 
 sent out for the feigned purpose of begging. They catch 
 a glimpse of the parlor, the hall, the kitchen, or the office, 
 and in that one glance they note the position and value of 
 everything. They then report to the men who sent them 
 out and a burglary is planned. It is a pity that such 
 excellent methods of teaching rapidity of perception are, 
 for the most part, left to criminals. 
 
 Successful gamblers often become so expert in noticing 
 the slightest change of an opponent's facial expression
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF PERCEPTION. 99 
 
 that they will estimate the strength of his hand by the 
 involuntary signs which appear in the face and which are 
 frequently checked the instant they appear. 
 
 There are many excellent methods for cultivating rapidity 
 of perception, and they can be employed with but little 
 trouble. At the start, place upon a small table seven dif- 
 ferent articles. Remove for an instant the cloth used to 
 cover them, and then have some one describe the articles. 
 This can be played as a game, and prizes can be offered to the 
 one naming the most things. Only one should be allowed 
 to approach the table at once, and the cloth should be 
 raised for the same length of time for each one. To avoid 
 disputes, each one should at once write down in another 
 room, or in a different part of the same room, the name of 
 every article seen. The number of things on the table 
 should be gradually increased to forty. 
 
 Houdin's method of walking rapidly by a shop window, 
 and then writing down as many as possible of the articles 
 displayed, is a good exercise. If different things are at 
 the same time tossed into the air and allowed to fall behind 
 a screen, or into a basket, bag, or sheet gathered up, great 
 quickness of perception will be necessary to name and 
 describe all. A word may be written on a revolving black- 
 board, which is then to be turned with a rapidity barely 
 sufficient to allow the word to be made out at the first 
 trial. New words or sentences should then be added. 
 With practice a sensible statement of several lines can be 
 read at one glance. The late President Porter, of Yale, was 
 credited with being able to read at a glance a quarter of a 
 page of an ordinary sized book. 
 
 It must be remembered that things which are rapidly 
 done are not for that reason the worse done. The fingers 
 may be almost invisible in their rapid flight over the piano,
 
 IOO PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 and yet a better tune may be played than if they were 
 placed slowly, one by one, on the proper keys. A 
 wide-awake eagle would probably see more of a thing at 
 one glance than would a drowsy lizard in a quarter of an 
 hour. Extreme rapidity of perception, due to careful 
 training, was one of the factors enabling Houdin and his 
 son to astonish everybody and to amass a fortune. He 
 placed a domino before the boy, and instead of allowing 
 him to count the spots, required him to give the sum total 
 at once. This exercise was continued until each could give 
 instantaneously the sum of the spots on a dozen dominoes. 
 The sum was given just as accurately as if five minutes 
 had been consumed in adding. 
 
 Houdin, after recounting these methods and their results, 
 and saying that these feats are often surpassed by persons 
 in ordinary life, writes : " Thus, for instance, I can safely 
 assert that a lady seeing another pass at full speed in a 
 carriage will have had time to analyze her toilette from her 
 bonnet to her shoes, and be able to describe not only the' 
 fashion and quality of the stuffs, but also say if the lace 
 be real or only machine made. I have known ladies to do 
 this." 
 /This age of the world wants persons who can do things 
 
 /not only well but quickly. Those who cannot combine 
 both qualities will be pushed to the rear in the struggle 
 
 V for existence. ^ 
 
 /
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^Relation of Memory to Perception. If things left no 
 
 mental impress after they were present to our senses, we 
 should not be as wise at threescore and ten as we now 
 are at five. On seeing an object a second (or third) 
 time we could not recognize it, or know that our home 
 was our home, or that a red-hot iron was red hot. After 
 the mind has perceived things, it has the power of repre- 
 senting them again to itself, or of remembering them, as 
 we say in everyday language. It is a function of mind 
 to remember, just as capillary action is a function of cin- 
 qhona and maple trees, or as the bearing of apples is a 
 function of apple trees. All these functions are, of course, 
 mysteries at bottom. 
 
 Following the lead of physicists who have shown that 
 heat, light, and electricity are all due to vibrations in the 
 same ether, and who are striving to show that all the 
 metals and the elements are, in the last analysis, one and 
 ^he same substance, the tendency of modern psychologists^ 
 is to look upon memory, perception, thought, emotion, I 
 imagination, and will as one and the same thing. But an 1 
 important consideration is overlooked. It is probably true 
 that almost all the phenoniena cognizable by the senses 
 are due to vibrations, but it is not true that vibrations
 
 IO2 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 of the same intensity will produce all these different phe- 
 nomena. Heat comes to consciousness as something 
 different from sound. Perception, memory, etc., are func- 
 tions of the same mind, but of the same mind acting in 
 different ways. 
 
 In spite of all that metaphysicians may say to the con- 
 trary, a man would not be considered sane if he had lost 
 the power of distinguishing between objects of sense and of 
 memory, nor would his testimony be considered valid in a 
 court of law. And yet the activity of a brain cell due to 
 the perception of an object, and the innervation of the 
 same cell caused by mental effort in recalling the object, 
 are much more alike than is commonly supposed. This 
 truth will be emphasized later. At the same time popular 
 common sense is true when it declares that memories of a 
 feast dispel no pains of hunger, and that the memories of 
 a red-hot iron are not so painful as the original sensation. 
 
 The Objects of Memory. Memory is a conscious revival 
 of any kind of past mental experience. We may recall 
 not only any object that has been present to any of the 
 senses, but also any former mental experience, such as 
 thinking, feeling, willing. We frequently hear some one 
 say, "I shall never forget how I felt when that happened." 
 
 All sense objects are not recalled with equal ease. The 
 majority of persons have the keenest memories for objects 
 of sight. Sounds are less easily recalled ; while touches! 
 tastes, and odors seldom give many clear-cut memories. . 
 There are, however, many persons who, like Beethoven, 
 can remember sounds more distinctly than anything else. 
 There are said to have been gourmands whose mental 
 imagery consisted of tastes of partridge, terrapin, jellies, 
 sauces, etc. When the dog dreams, it is evident from his
 
 REPRESENTATION. 1 03 
 
 quivering nostrils that his memory images are chiefly due 
 to smell. 
 
 f 
 
 The greatest poets have had extremely good memories 
 for past emotional states. When an idea of an object 
 that had caused them an emotion at any past time was re- 
 called, there were also recalled their feelings at that time. 
 In middle age, Shakespeare could remember his feelings 
 during boyhood. This power was one of the factors in his 
 greatness. Most persons have indifferent memories- for 
 past feelings. Persons are often heard to say : " When I 
 get well, I shall never forget how I felt when I was sick. 
 I shall hereafter be far more attentive and considerate to 
 the sick." In the majority of instances, on recovery, the 
 memories of these feelings soon grow dim. Mentally, man 
 is as yet an imperfectly evolved creature. It is conceiva- 
 ble that the man of the future may make fuller use of all 
 his powers and be as superior to his present self as the 
 locomotive is to the stagecoach. 
 
 /^ ccft -vv-ftLC r JVU-AMM 
 
 Physical Basis of Memory. After a new sensation, 
 it is probable that the cortex of the brain never returns 
 to its exact former state. There is a certain change in 
 some brain cell, and this change furnishes the physical 
 basis for conscious memory. The number of cells in the 
 human brain has been estimated at from 600,000,000 to 
 2,000,000,000. The wisest person that ever lived prob- 
 arbly had spwral milHoj brain cells that were more or 
 less idle. 
 
 Repeated sensations from the same object modify the 
 brain cells more effectively. The changed molecular 
 arrangement tends to become permanent. One sensation, 
 if of sufficient interest or intensity, may impress itself 
 ineffaceably upon the brain ; but in the majority of cases
 
 104 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 repeated impressions are necessary. The brain seems to 
 work very much as the fingers do in playing the piano. 
 They need much practice to become pliable ; if the prac- 
 tice is intermitted, their pliability diminishes. If the brain] 
 cells are not brought into frequent action, they also lose! 
 their cunning, and we forget. We learn a language so 
 as to speak it fairly well ; then we do not use it for five 
 years. If at the end of that time we attempt to converse 
 in it, we shall notice how "rusty" we have become. Five 
 years' absence from a piano will diminish the capacity of 
 the fingers for playing. It is well to know that the same 
 law applies to brain exercise as to the exercise of other 
 parts of the body. 
 
 Again, the brainj like the muscles, js_the-most__Eliable 
 in_ youth. The brain cannot take on new modifications in 
 advanced life, just as an old pair of hands cannot learn 
 how to play the piano well. Millions of facts should be 
 stowed away in the youthful brain. There is not a mo- 
 ment to spare while the brain is still plastic. When the 
 blacksmith has his iron nearly white-hot, he strikes quickly 
 and fashions it as he chooses. If he were to sit down and 
 wait until it cooled before striking, it would no longer 
 be pliable under his hands. Persons who do not work 
 hard with their youthful brains are like this mistaken 
 blacksmith. 
 
 An intelligent old professor was told a fact which made 
 a certain theory of his impossible. His lecture a week later 
 showed that he still taught the old theory. His brain 
 cells could not take on the modification demanded by the 
 new fact. The brain paths were too deeply marked for 
 his ideas to escape their grooves. 
 
 How matter lodges in a youthful brain is shown in the 
 classical case of the German servant girl. When she was
 
 REPRESENTATION. IO5 
 
 very young, she heard a clergyman read aloud passages 
 from Hebrew, Greek, and Latin authors. Of course she 
 understood nothing that was read. Years after, when 
 she was delirious, she repeated many of the passages with 
 literal exactness. Her youthful brain had retained impres- 
 sions which had no intellectual meaning to her. Just as 
 a cut or bruise modifies the skin and may leave a lifelong 
 scar, so do sensations modify the brain. Were it not 
 modified by them, there would be no reason why the 
 nerves of the ear and the eye should end in the brain and 
 register their sensations in it. When the temporal lobes 
 of the brain are diseased, the memory for spoken words is 
 impaired. This shows that the activity of the brain cells 
 is as necessary in the process of recalling something as 
 in the original perception. 
 
 The theory of the physical basis of memory has not been 
 generally taught, because it was thought that this theory 
 would lead to materialism. Should the theory prove to be 
 true, it was supposed that the soul could not be immortal. 
 It was asked : If the mind can call up ideas only with 
 the aid of the brain, what can the mind do when the 
 decay of death has settled upon the brain ? But if a 
 theory is true, it will do no good to reject it for fear of the 
 consequences. If, on a certain occasion, we very much dis- 
 like to have two and two make four, it will do no good to 
 insist that the sum is only three. But the alarm is need- 
 less in this case. One person can talk to another in a 
 distant city only by means of a telephone wire. If the 
 wire is broken, the speaker can no longer make the other 
 hear ; but it does not therefore follow that the speaker has 
 ceased to exist. The brain may play a part analogous to 
 the telephone wire. It has never been shown that con- 
 sciousness cannot have as much of an existence apart from
 
 IO6 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 the brain as a speaker can apart from a telephone. All 
 that has been shown is that consciousness can manifest 
 itself to mortals only by means of physical mechanism. 
 
 Memory a Special Case of Imaginative Representation* 
 The mind has the peculiar power of forming images, 
 which in so-called literal memory are symbols of the object 
 represented. Thus, I form an image of an ellipsoidal yel- 
 low object, and this image serves my mind as a symbol 
 of a lemon, when the fruit is riot present to my senses. 
 The chapter on imagination will show that there are 
 no absolute lines of demarcation between images of so- 
 called memory and of the imaginative power. Both are 
 products of this latter power. A discussion of the like- 
 ness and difference in these products had better be re- 
 served until we consider the imagination. We may here 
 define memory images as products of the imaginative power, 
 which serve as symbols of actually existing things previously 
 experienced. We may further say that these image sym- 
 bols differ in the fidelity wherewith they represent such 
 objects. Memory images are those which most nearly rep- 
 resent existing things. We shall consider other images 
 in the chapter on imagination. In psychology the term 
 " image " is no more applicable to products derived from 
 the eye than to those of the other senses. It is as proper 
 to speak of auditory as of visual images. 
 
 Two Theories of Memory Images. It has often been 
 asked : Where are the images of memory when they are 
 not present to consciousness ? We see a man one day, but 
 do not think of him again for a month. We can then call 
 up a distinct image of him. Where was the image of. the 
 man during the month ?
 
 REPRESENTATION. 1 07 
 
 ^ - The first theory is that the full-fledged idea is in the 
 mind, but slumbering beneath the stream, of conscious- 
 ness ; just as a person is alive when sound asleep, without 
 being aware of the fact. When we are not conscious of 
 an idea, it is believed to disappear just as a diver does 
 beneath the surface of the water ; and the one is held to 
 keep its form as intact as the other during this disappear- 
 ance. This theory further holds that the images of 
 memory are totally unlike those of perception. 
 
 *X -The second theory starts by saying that an idea is the 
 mind at work. AflJileaJias-na-existence. out of a. conscious 
 miruL Brain cells exist with structures modified because 
 of certain sensations, and when consciousness uses these 
 cells, ideas spring up. To ask, therefore, where the mem- 
 ory image is, would be analogous to asking : Where are the 
 movements in the fingers of a trained piano player while 
 he is asleep? The movements are nowhere, but there 
 are a modification and a capacity in the fingers, enabling 
 them to repeat, or reproduce, those movements. A repre- 
 sented memory idea is the mind at work in the same way 
 in which it has worked before. If we are asked how it is 
 possible for the mind to fashion so strange an immaterial 
 symbol as a conscious idea to represent something, we can 
 no more answer than we can tell why one vine should bear 
 watermelons and another pumpkins, or why either vine 
 should bear anything. 
 
 This theory makes it clear that, if an idea is simply 
 mental action, a certain idea can exist only when the mind 
 is working in a certain way. Other ideas exist when the 
 mind works in different ways. A good mind remembers 
 how to work in many different ways. If a piece of cloth 
 had the power both of folding and of unfolding itself, it 
 would more easiiy fold itself again in the places where it
 
 IO8 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 was before folded. It is so with memory. The mind has 
 a natural tendency to work again in the same way in which 
 it has worked before, and the process of so doing is mem- 
 ory. It will do us no harm to return to the phraseology 
 of everyday life and to speak of recalling ideas or even 
 objects, if we understand what is really meant thereby. 
 We may, if we wish, speak metaphorically of an idea as 
 the fruit of the mind, in the same sense that an apple is 
 the fruit of the tree. Both represent the results of energy. 
 
 There is unquestionably a difference between our idea 
 of an object, say a lion, when we stand looking at it, and 
 when we shut our eyes and picture it. The most timid 
 sane woman would not be in much more danger of mistak- 
 ing the memory image of a lion for the perception of the 
 actual animal, than of thinking that electricity was light. 
 The connection between the image of perception and of 
 memory is just about as close as the bond between elec- 
 tricity and light. Quicken the light-producing vibrations 
 in the ether, and they cause electricity. Intensify the 
 action in a memory cell, and the resulting idea may be 
 confounded with a perception. It is of course conceivable 
 that the " lion memory cell " might be thrown into such 
 intense action as to cause the woman to think that she saw 
 an actual lion. Analogous cases have happened ; but were 
 they the rule and not the exception with any person, she 
 would be considered neither normal nor sane. We may 
 say that an idea from direct perception of an object differs 
 from the represented idea of memory chiefly in intensity. 
 If a memory brain cell is thrown intp sufficiently intense 
 action, the mental product may be mistaken for a per- 
 ception. 
 
 The phenomena of hypnotism are partially due to the 
 fact that brain cells are thrown into such intense action by
 
 REPRESENTATION. I0g 
 
 suggestions of the operator, that the subject thinks he has 
 actual perceptions. Many persons have at some time or 
 other thrown so much energy into an idea of performing Tj^" 
 a certain action, that they have actually believed that 
 they had done it. A man of unquestionable integrity 
 testified that he locked a certain door. Two equally 
 upright persons took their oath that they saw him leave ^ 
 the room in a great hurry without stopping to lock the 
 door. He had thrown such energy into his determination 
 to lock the door, as much as he would have expended in 
 the act, that when he came to think the matter over, 
 he was sure he could remember locking the door. 
 
 There are few who cannot recall analogous cases in their 
 own lives. A man intends to wind his watch. Some- 
 
 find that the watch has run down. We purpose to put a 
 
 thing interrupts, and in the morning he is astonished to v r f) _ 
 
 certain thing back in its place. Something else claims our ""UA& 
 attention, and we are surprised to find, on returning, that V^T 
 
 the thing is still out of its place. Sometimes we insist 
 
 f\\ i 
 that we did replace the article, but that some disorderly 
 
 person has pulled it out in our absence. 
 
 Having said enough in this section to guard the student ' 
 against thinking that he can, in every case, distinguish .. 
 between an image of memory and of perception, we may- ^ ^Uol. J 
 close with this general rule : The presence of an actual 
 object gives great vigor to a^brain cell; the normal in- 
 ternal revival gives far less-X^ 
 
 / s 
 
 Powers Involved in Remembering. In order to remem- 
 ber anything, the mind must have the power (i) of 
 retention, (2) of reproduction, (3) of recognition, and (4) 
 of referring an object to a certain more or less definite 
 place and time. If the mind could not retain a disposition
 
 HO PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 to act again in the same way as before, or, in more popular 
 language, if the mind could not retain an idea, knowledge 
 would be lost as soon as the object ceased to be before the 
 mind ; we might as well put gold coins into a pocket con- 
 taining holes. The brain cells, of course, furnish the phe- 
 nomena of the physical side of retention. 
 
 There must also be reproduction. We frequently put 
 things away in a garret or elsewhere, spend more time 
 hunting for them than they are worth, then finally rush out 
 and buy a new article. It is of no use to have a thing, 
 unless it can be produced when we want it. Hence we 
 see that retention is not enough, for any attic may retain 
 things so well that we cannot find them. 
 
 But even retention and reproduction are not sufficient. 
 We may retain an idea of the features of a man and 
 reproduce it, but if we do not recognize it, we should not 
 be able to identify the man the next time we saw him. 
 We must first be able to recognize him as a man that we 
 have seen before. Recognition is knowing that -we have 
 had the same idea before. 
 
 The spatial and the temporal elements in memory are 
 less definite, but an idea always has some relations to space 
 and time. We saw a certain man in New York last sum- 
 mer, or icicles hanging from the eaves in the winter. 
 
 Different Kinds of Memory. Many persons think 
 that memory is mainly due to sight ; but we have as many 
 different kinds of memory as we have senses. To sight, 
 the watermelon is a long greenish body, but this is its 
 least important quality. Sight alone gives the poorest 
 idea of the watermelon. We approach the vine where the 
 fruit is growing, and, in order to decide whether it is ripe, 
 we tap the rind and judge by the sound. We must
 
 \WX5U-- 
 
 ^r 
 
 REPRESENTATION. Ill 
 
 remember that a ripe watermelon has a certain resonance. 
 By passing our hands over the melon, we learn that it has 
 certain touch characteristics. We cut it open and learn 
 the qualities of taste and smell. All this knowledge 
 afforded by the different senses must enter into a per- 
 fected memory image. 
 
 The physical basis for these different memories is to be 
 found in different brain tracts. Again, our memory of the 
 written word " watermelon " is different from that of the 
 spoken word. Our memory for controlling the vocal cords 
 in uttering the word is different from the memory for 
 directing the fingers in writing the word. Hence we see 
 that many complex processes go to form an idea of a 
 thing. Napoleon was not content with only hearing a 
 name. He wrote it down, and having satisfied his eye 
 memory as well as his ear memory, he threw the paper 
 away. 
 
 ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 The Sequence of Ideas Governed by Law. Sometimes 
 we fancy that ideas floating through our minds are under 
 the control of no law ; but the truth is that our ideas 
 appear under the direction of a law as inflexible as that 
 which controls the ocean currents or the rising and falling 
 of the tides. All ideas have certain definite associations 
 with other ideas and they come up in groups. There is 
 always an association between our ideas, although there 
 are cases when we cannot trace it. 
 
 The writer was once surprised, in a distant city, to find 
 a picture of the Yale campus appear in his mind. He was 
 thinking about a subject which had no conceivable connec- 
 tion with that campus. The mystery was solved when 
 he realized that he was hearing a certain tune whistled,
 
 \ 
 
 112 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 which had before been strongly associated with the college 
 grounds. 
 
 Even in cases where we find no association between our 
 ideas, we may be sure that it exists. Uneducated people 
 realize this, for, when a person makes some remark, they 
 wonder how he came to think of that, and they often 
 rightly conclude that such a thought would never have 
 occurred to him unless he had been in possession of some 
 information which suggested it. An idea, then, never 
 appears in consciousness unless there is a definite reason 
 why this idea should appear in preference to others. 
 
 Since the labyrinthine character of nerve fibers connect- 
 ing different brain tracts has been better understood, we 
 feel less surprise at our inability to retrace in conscious- 
 ness the associative path between some ideas. We know 
 that the current may pass so easily along certain fibers 
 connecting different cells, that the connection will not be 
 sufficiently intrusive to rouse consciousness. Two appar- 
 ently disconnected ideas will then appear in the mind. 
 
 Necessity for a Physical Basis of Association. Excite- 
 ment of the auditory nerves goes to the temporal lobes ; 
 of the optic nerves, to the occipital lobes. We have seen 
 that in order to obtain a percept of a peach, we must weave 
 together the sensations given by the various senses. Since 
 these report to various parts of the brain, there must be 
 connection between all, or they could not be fused into one 
 idea. These connections we may term associative fibers. 
 A peach is not a peach until we have associated the gusta- 
 tory, visual, tactile, and olfactory sensations. Our knowl- 
 edge of a bell would be very incomplete were the sound 
 not associated with the sight. 
 
 Suppose we endeavor to recall our memories of a water-
 
 REPRESENTATION. 113 
 
 melon. in Figure 20, let V stand for a visual sensa- 
 tion in the brain ; A, for an auditory sensation ; M, 
 for the muscular sensation in uttering the word "water- 
 melon" ; O, for the sensation of odor; t, for that of taste; 
 T, for the indefinitely localized sensation of touch. These 
 sensations have affected different parts of the brain, and 
 they must be associated with each other before we can 
 
 FIG. zo.V-^iagram showing different brain tracts acted on by the various sen- 
 sory stimuli.\X 
 
 V 
 
 remember a watermelon in its completeness. The factors 
 thus associated are the visual appearance, the resonance 
 of the watermelon when we snap our fingers on its rind, 
 the muscular sensations in calling the word, the odor and 
 the taste, and the sensation from touch. Besides these, we 
 may have a temperature memory of the coolness of the 
 melon, a muscular memory of the sensation resulting from 
 lifting the fruit, another muscular memory of the sensa- 
 tions involved in writing the word. Nerve fibers more 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 8
 
 114 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 complex than those indicated by the dotted lines in the 
 diagram connect the different parts of the brain. 
 
 The physical basis of cerebral association is, therefore, 
 to be found in the cells and connective fibers of the brain. 
 
 Primary Law of Association. 
 
 Contiguity in Consciousness. Ideas or objects that have 
 been before consciousness at the same time, and hence 
 apperceived in the same mental state, tend afterwards to 
 suggest each other. 
 
 (1) This law does not mean that the objects must be 
 contiguous in external space and time. They may be 
 thousands of miles distant and separated by an interval of 
 many years. The essential thing is that the mind grasps 
 the ideas together. If Napoleon and Alexander the Great 
 once come before consciousness at the same time, they 
 will afterwards have a tendency to be associated. If they 
 are never a part of the same mental state, that is, if they 
 never come into the mind together, they can never be 
 mentally associated, though memories of both may exist. 
 
 (2) Contiguous association includes both coexistence and 
 succession. The ideas may not only be in the mind at the 
 same time, but they may follow each other to almost any 
 extent, as is shown in the case of those who have mem< 
 orized all of Milton's Paradise Lost, complete plays ot 
 Shakespeare, or the successive steps in a geometrical 
 demonstration. It does not matter how long the web of 
 knowledge is, provided the mental loom weaves the prod- 
 uct firmly together. 
 
 When ideas are in the mind at the same time, like a 
 house and its color, the visual aspect of a person and the 
 sound of his voice, they are said to coexist. When ideas
 
 KEPRESENTATION. 1 1 5 
 
 follow each other, like the letters of the alphabet or the 
 words in a poem, they furnish examples of succession. 
 
 (3) No similarity can ever be detected between any 
 two objects, unless they are before the mind at the same 
 time. This being so, the law of contiguity comes before 
 any law of similarity. If we have an image of only one hu- 
 man countenance before the mind at a given time, we can 
 discover no resemblance between that countenance and 
 nothing at all. After we once have two countenances in 
 contiguous relations before consciousness, we may then, 
 and only then, proceed to note the similarity, which, as 
 will be shown later, furnishes a powerful secondary law for 
 close association. But similarity is not a primary princi- 
 ple of association, because ideas must first be examined 
 in contiguous association before any similarity can be 
 noted. When we come to consider the law of associa- 
 tion by brain contiguity, this statement will seem still 
 clearer. 
 
 (4) The law of contiguity itself involves relations. 
 Contiguity means a relation in time and space ; and to 
 children, as well as to many older people, the relation of 
 cause and effect. The effect frequently follows the cause 
 in quick contiguous association. Lightning and thunder, 
 a blow and pain, cold and ice, spring and blossoms, green 
 apples and indigestion, a cut from a knife and the appear- 
 ance of blood, are firmly linked because of relations of 
 contiguity. 
 
 (5) The law of contiguity does not imply that we pay 
 equal attention to all objects before us at the same time. 
 The parts of a landscape are all connected, but we link to- 
 gether certain elements that interest us, and neglect others. 
 The human mind is not a machine, like a camera, which 
 must photograph impartially everything within range
 
 Il6 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 We may, in the landscape, single out for contiguous 
 attention the line of graceful willows, the winding brook, 
 the white house and the hillside, and may neglect the 
 other elements. The mind, while working under the law 
 of contiguity, is, at the same time, using its apperceptive 
 power and singling out for attention interesting objects 
 which can be assimilated to other ideas. If several objects 
 are contiguously present to perception, the mind will al 
 ways quickly dismiss the least interesting, those which 
 cannot be assimilated or apperceived in terms of present 
 ideas. To repeat, one idea cannot be assimilated to 
 another, or apperceived in terms of another, unless 
 both ideas are contiguously associated in consciousness. 
 Suppose we are looking toward three objects, a panther, 
 a cat, and a wooden pail. We shall very probably not see 
 the pail ; but we shall not apperceive the panther as a big 
 cat, unless the mind first gets ideas of both animals before 
 it at the same time, er, in other words, in contiguous 
 association. No resemblance can be discovered between 
 the panther and nothing whatever. 
 
 Illustrations of the Law of Contiguity. The alphabet 
 affords the simplest illustration of this law. A has been 
 associated with b, and b with c. We naturally say a, b, c; 
 it would be an effort to say a, m, h, because m has not 
 been associated with a, nor h with m. We rattle off all 
 the logically disconnected letters of the alphabet so easily, 
 because they have been before the mind in contiguous 
 association. In this way we associate the Fourth of July 
 with fireworks, Thanksgiving with turkeys, Christmas with 
 Santa Claus. If we were memorizing Gray's Elegy, we 
 should rely on this law to recall the words in order, 
 
 * The curfew tolls the knell ot parting day.'*
 
 REPRESENTATION. 1 1 7 
 
 Here "curfew" succeeds "the"; "tolls" succeeds "cur- 
 few," etc. We learn the words in this order, and hence 
 when we start the line, the remaining words tend to fol- 
 low. Were it not for this law, words might be interposed 
 from a poem learned at some other time. Thus, we might 
 say, " The curfew tolls, my country, 'tis of thee, once upon 
 a midnight dreary, strike till the last armed foe, all bless- 
 ings flow." As the case is, no matter if we know the 
 Elegy, America, The Raven, Bozzaris, and Doxology, the 
 law of contiguity keeps us from mingling them. There 
 are adults who dislike jelly because it was associated in 
 their youthful days with medicine. We may once see a 
 person in questionable company, and find that our minds 
 thereafter associate him with that company. The law of * 
 contiguity is as far-reaching and as diverse in its ^per- 
 ation as are our paths through life.v^*ftl^t tpuuUC 
 
 X^O^(6\>*AA*' / *^~7 
 
 Nj^ V rft-^t / \ 
 
 Law of Cerebral Contiguity. Whenever any Hraln cells 
 have had connected action, the action of any one tends 
 to set the others in action. In learning the alphabet, a 
 certain part of the brain cortex was in connected action. 
 When, at some future time, the cerebral cell in which a 
 was registered vibrates so as to affect consciousness, those 
 vibrations or excitations tend to spread and to set in action 
 the cells where b and c are registered. 
 
 Two similar sensations are registered in a contiguous 
 brain tract, not because they occur at the same time, but 
 because they are similar. We have already seen that 
 sensations of hearing modify a different brain tract from 
 sensations of sight. It is further probable that two 
 exactly similar sight sensations would excite precisely the 
 same ganglion cells in the occipital lobes. A sensation 
 would excite a certain brain cell in preference to another.
 
 Il8 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 only because this sensation was similar to a former one 
 which had modified that same cell. The same brain cells 
 
 may be repositories for similar qualities of differenjt 
 
 objects. Whenever a quality of a new object knocks at 
 the door of a brain cell, which has stored up a modification 
 corresponding to the same quality in a related object, we 
 may expect that cell to bring to consciousness a memory of 
 the former object. 
 
 When a man sees an imposing mass of thunder clouds 
 and immediately thinks of a distant mountain range, it is 
 probable that the sensation from the clouds affects the 
 same brain cells as did the sensation from the mountains. 
 This was the case only because there was an undoubted 
 similarity between the irregular white tops of the clouds 
 and of the mountains. When the clouds were seen, the 
 mountains were thought of only because the similar sensa- 
 tions affected the same brain cells or contiguous ones. The 
 almost certain truth that similar sensations, like birds of 
 a feather, flock together in the brain, may some day 
 become a psychological proverb. 
 
 Sometimes two objects dissimilar in every respect save 
 one are associated, because the similar sensation coming 
 from this one like quality is sufficiently strong to set in 
 action the entire brain cell retaining the modification from 
 the first perceived object. We have already commented 
 on this in considering illusions. The photograph of a 
 stranger recalling a friend, though only the noses are 
 alike, would illustrate this tendency. In these cases, the 
 objects come into the mind before it has noticed their 
 similarity. Only after they are in consciousness together 
 are they known as similar. But the brain brought them 
 up together because their effects upon it were similar in 
 some respect. These sensations are unconscious of their
 
 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 similarity to each other. The relation of similarity is the 
 product of a conscious mind at work upon ideas already 
 brought to it by contiguous association. 
 
 Reasons for Many Obscure Associations. We must 
 not expect to be able to trace out a conscious connection 
 between all our ideas, because the association is frequently 
 the result of complex connecting nerve processes which 
 may effect the connection so smoothly as not to arouse 
 consciousness. Ideas that follow each other automatically 
 illustrate this tendency. Removing the waistcoat at nigh 
 is often preceded by winding the watch, although there 
 may be no conscious connection between the ideas lead- 
 ing to such movements. There may be unconscious 
 preparatory action in the brain tract tending toward a 
 conscious result, and nothing but this result may appear 
 in consciousness. We may thus explain those dreams in 
 which some apparently forgotten memory has recurred, 
 furnishing the desired knowledge. The dream set in action 
 a portion of the brain. The excitement spread and roused 
 some dormant cell. 
 
 Secondary Laws of Association. 
 
 Difference between Primary and Secondary Laws. A 
 primary law states the general rules that ideas obey in 
 coming to the mind. All ideas are associated on a con- 
 tiguous principle. A secondary law shows why one, rather 
 than another, of contiguously associated ideas comes to 
 the mind at a given time. Out of fifteen ideas associated 
 by contiguity, why does the seventh now come to the mind 
 m preference to the fourth ? To account for this, we must 
 find some reasons, which we term secondary laws. 
 
 These are more interesting than the primaiy law of
 
 120 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 contiguity, since they cause variety in our mental life. If 
 our memories were as mechanical as the movement of a 
 belt around a wheel, they would always come and go in the 
 same order. If we chalk the. letters B. M. P. X. on the 
 outside of a band, then revolve the wheel, we may be sure 
 that .they will return in that invariable order. The mere 
 statement of the law of contiguity would lead us to expect 
 that ideas would return in the same fixed way, that they 
 would be subject to as little variation as the letters on the 
 belt or the tunes of an organ grinder. 
 
 Principal Secondary Laws. There are many reasons 
 why one of a number of ideas, associated with a cer- 
 tain other idea by contiguity, should come to the mind 
 rather than another. The most important reasons are 
 these : 
 
 I. If there are fifteen ideas associated by contiguity, and 
 if a likeness has been discovered between the fourth and 
 the seventh, they will be the most apt, other things being 
 equal, to come together to the mind. We may call this 
 the law of correlation. 
 
 II. If the fourth and the seventh of those ideas have 
 been often repeated, that repetition will give them special 
 vigor to fight their way to the front in the struggle for 
 conscious representation and association. This may be 
 termed the law of repetition. 
 
 III. The fourth and the seventh ideas will be more apt 
 to recur together if their relation appeals to the emotional 
 side of our nature, if they are more interesting because 
 they are recent and vivid, because they agree with our 
 natural preferences, or because they stand in a pleasing 
 or displeasing relation to other interesting ideas. This 
 may be called the law of ew&tional preference.
 
 REPRESENTATION. 121 
 
 IV. If the attention has been strongly centered by an 
 act of the will on the fourth and the seventh ideas, they 
 will thereby be given additional vigor in the struggle for 
 association. This is the law of voluntary attention 
 
 Law of Correlation. Whenever any thought relation is 
 discovered between some of our ideas, those thus related 
 will be more apt to suggest each other. 
 
 Let us look at these three words together: annual, 
 stone, annus. If we know that annus is the Latin for year, 
 and discover the similarity between that and annual, we 
 should in the future be much more likely to associate the 
 first with the third than with the second, although all would 
 fall under the law of contiguity, having been in the mind 
 together. When the word animal is mentioned, the word 
 stone, because of lack of similarity, would be normally 
 surpassed by the word annus in associational competi- 
 tion. 
 
 If Julius Caesar was the object of conversation, Napoleon, 
 Marlborough, Cromwell, and Wellington would naturally 
 come to mind in preference to many another great man. 
 War and generalship would furnish a logical bond for 
 uniting them, no matter in what different circumstances of 
 time and place these men lived. When a man, with a 
 mind that has been trained to unite things by their rela- 
 tions, sits down to write an article or to prepare a speech, 
 illustrative examples from all sources occur to him. Those 
 who have not linked things together by the law of correla- 
 tion, wonder how he can think of so many pertinent illus- 
 trations. 
 
 Some have insisted that a law of contrast is necessary, 
 because things seem to be preferred in recall on account 
 of their very difference. Such a law is unnecessary, for
 
 122 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 such objects will be found to have more or less of the same 
 quality, and this is sufficient to furnish the associating link. 
 A dwarf may suggest a giant by this so-called law of con- 
 trast ; but the giant, and the dwarf really differ in respect 
 to the same qualities, height and size. The giant is taller 
 and larger than the dwarf. A bad man may suggest a 
 good man, because they differ in respect to the quality 
 of goodness. 
 
 One of the great beauties of a trained human mind is 
 that it recalls things preferably by thought relations, and it 
 is not enslaved by the accidents of time and place. An 
 ignorant person on the witness stand will insist on telling 
 everything, no matter whether it bears on the case or 
 not. His memory is almost entirely contiguous. If, be- 
 tween two given events, he bought a barrel of flour on 
 trust at a red grocery, one of his childreL was teething, 
 or he blew his nose, he must relate the events in the order 
 in which' they occurred. Having never learned to think 
 logically, he really has no other way of getting from the one 
 event to the other, except by using everything that hap- 
 pened as a stepping stone wherewith to cross the inter- 
 vening stream. Deny to him the right of using a certain 
 stone, and he stands puzzled in mid-stream. 
 
 Mrs. Radcliffe, in The Romance of the Forest, illustrates 
 this point well. One of her characters rushes into the 
 room with very important news, which his master is eager 
 to hear : 
 
 "O, sir, I've heard something that has astonished me, as well it 
 may," cried Peter, "and so it will you, when you come to know it. As 
 I was standing in the blacksmith's shop, while the smith was driving a 
 nail into the horse's shoe ; by the by, the horse lost it in an odd way. 
 I'll tell you, sir, how it was." 
 
 "Nay, prithee, leave it till another time, and go on with your story."
 
 REPRESENTATION. 1 2 3 
 
 " Why, then, sir, as I was standing in the blacksmith's shop, comes 
 in a man with a pipe in his mouth, and a large pouch of tobacco in his 
 hand." 
 
 " Well what has the pipe to do with the story ? " 
 
 " Nay, sir, you put me out ; I can't go on, unless you let me tell it in 
 tny own way. As I was saying with a pipe," etc. 
 
 Law of Repetition. Whenever mental acts are often 
 repeated, their corresponding brain cells are made stable 
 and vigorous, by the same law that gives strength to 
 muscles when they are exercised. An arm kept in a 
 sling becomes weak and flabby. The same is. true of 
 brain cells that are not given their proper exercise. A 
 pair of strong arms can far surpass weak ones in elbowing 
 their way through a crowd ; so can a strong brain cell more 
 easily affect consciousness. If, out of a hundred ideas, the 
 thirty-fifth has been repeated more often than the others, 
 the brain process corresponding to it will knock loudest at 
 the door of consciousness. If we hear of widespread injury 
 to a distant city, we think first of its people and build- 
 ings that we have seen most often, for they have left the 
 deepest mental impress. In traveling through a foreign 
 country, anything related to our oft repeated business 
 attracts our attention first. 
 
 Law of Emotional Preference. By a law of the emo- 
 tions, we are in the majority of cases more interested 
 in something that has recently happened than in distant 
 events. In cases where this is true, an idea due to recent 
 experience will win in the fight with an idea of the oppo- 
 site kind. If Constantinople is suddenly mentioned, and 
 if I have been recently reading about its numberless dogs, 
 my association of ideas would be more apt to turn in their 
 direction than toward the Sultan. On the other hand, ii
 
 124 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 I have listened to 'a recent talk about the religion of that 
 city, I should probably think of the mosques and of the 
 muezzins' call to prayer. 
 
 Vividness of experience is a potent factor in recollection. 
 What is extremely vivid necessarily interests us more than 
 what is ordinary, and hence comes under the emotional 
 law. A person who had just left the shelter of a tree, 
 when it was torn in pieces by lightning, says, that when- 
 ever it begins to thunder, an image of that tree comes 
 distinctly before him. There have been thousands of 
 other objects associated in his experience with thunder 
 storms, but he always thinks of that particular experience 
 because of its vividness. Certain brain cells are probably 
 more affected by one such experience than by fifty repeti- 
 tions of uninteresting events. The experiences of child- 
 hood often throng the memory of old age because they 
 were so vivid. They deeply affected the plastic brain 
 cells. An old man will often recall events of fifty years 
 ago more easily' than those of the day before. The child 
 is also far more interested in each new experience than 
 are old men, for it constitutes his entire world for 
 the time being, and he is constantly expecting new dis- 
 coveries. 
 
 Interest is an extremely strong factor in determining the 
 current of association. If a broker, merchant, and anti- 
 quarian were asked to write down the idea first suggested 
 by the word stocks, the broker would be apt to mention some 
 railroad stocks in which he was interested, the merchant 
 would think of purchases for his fall or spring trade, and 
 there would occur to the antiquarian some historic example 
 of the use of stocks for punishing criminals. Whenever a 
 certain man thought of a distant state, he immediately 
 wondered whether its legislature had passed a bill for the
 
 REPRESENTATION . 125 
 
 extension of a railroad through a large tract of land owned 
 by him. He sold the land and soon ceased to think of the 
 doings of the legislature. If the state is now mentioned, 
 he thinks of a pleasant summer passed with a friend resid- 
 ing there. If an interesting and an uninteresting idea 
 fight for the privilege of appearing in consciousness, the 
 interesting one will win. More scientifically speaking, if 
 two brain processes struggle for the mastery, the one accom- 
 panied by an interesting mental state will win. The same 
 law governs the ideas for which there is hereditary pref- 
 erence. Water is more interesting than land to a duck at 
 birth. If the duck dreams, its aquatic experiences will 
 sway the dream current most strongly. Men with a heredi- 
 tary preference for art certainly think and dream most 
 often of objects connected with art. 
 
 TJie. change in r>ur pmnHnnal states has much to do with 
 changing^ the direction of our associations. An idea, A, is 
 often followed by S one day and by L the next. Why, as 
 we pass a certain farm on Monday, do we think of a pear 
 tree behind the house, while on Tuesday the association of 
 ideas goes straight from the house to the well beyond it ? 
 The answer shows the power of emotional bias to sway 
 the current of association. On Monday we were hungry, 
 and that feeling ushered in the idea of the pear tree, the 
 moment we caught sight of the place. The next day we 
 were thirsty, and immediately thought of the well. Ex- 
 amples like these emphasize the truth that what interests 
 us to-tfay may not do so to-morrow. 
 
 Law of Voluntary Attention. The greater the mental 
 energy thrown into attending to anything, the better fitted 
 be the idea of that thing to recur to consciousness and 
 give new direction to the stream of association. This
 
 126 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 truth is perhaps nowhere better shown than in reading 
 literature. It is possible to read authors like Shakespeare, 
 Milton, Chaucer, and De Quincey, and to throw so little 
 energy into the reading, that but very few ideas from them 
 will be found struggling with much vigor on the battle- 
 field of association. In order to win in this struggle, an 
 idea must have vigor. Will power used in centering the 
 attention can give vigor to any idea, even though it is unin- 
 teresting. Such a one is more than a master for a whole 
 regiment of ideas that are products of weak attention 
 and relaxed will. Those ideas that recur most frequently 
 are the ones that determine what our lives shall be. If 
 trivial ideas hold the field of association most often, our 
 lives will be insignificant. If by an act of will power we 
 center our attention upon nobler things, vigorous ideas 
 will arise from them, and our lives will take a nobler course. 
 If, in one sense, we are slaves of association, in another, 
 we are its masters, for we may determine upon what ideas 
 we shall center our attention, and consequently what ideas 
 shall be allowed to grow strong. 
 
 The physical study of attention shows that it causes 
 more blood to be sent to any parts involved in attention, 
 no matter whether these are in the limbs, trunk, or brain. 
 Hence, attention to any special thing must give additional 
 activity to those cells whose function it is to be modified 
 by sensations from that thing. With slight cause they 
 will be again thrown into action at some future time, and 
 the idea of the thing will come distinctly into memory. 
 The action of brain cells that have not been thus modified 
 may be too weak to affect consciousness, and hence the 
 stream of association will not be changed by them. The 
 centering of our attention here or there has much to do 
 with brain modification.
 
 Dreams. 
 
 Explanation of Dreams. It must be borne in mind 
 that dreams are to be explained_by the laws of association. 
 The current of ideas in a dream and in waking hours flows 
 on obedient to the same laws. Hence, we are not required 
 to lay down a single new principle. If a person gets the 
 covering off his feet on a cold night, he may dream of 
 walking barefoot on ice ; or if he has recently been reading 
 of polar travels, his dream may take him through strange 
 experiences in those regions. When the covering slipped 
 off a bottle of hot water at the feet of a sleeper, he 
 dreamed that he was walking on the crater of Mt. ^Etna. 
 The crust was so hot and thin that it threatened to break 
 and plunge him into the seething mass below. Another 
 man, under similar circumstances, dreamed that Italian 
 brigands were holding his feet in the fire to make him 
 disclose his treasure. He had been reading of such an 
 instance a short time before. A slumbering fire suddenly 
 darted into a bright blaze, and caused a sleeper to dream 
 that the gates of heaven had been thrown wide open. He 
 seemed to enter, and his dream current was swayed by all 
 the celestial pictures that had ever been before his mind. 
 The Revelation had greatly impressed him when a boy, 
 hence his dream naturally took this direction. Ko__ one 
 ever invents entirely new ideas in a dream... Before the 
 discovery of America, no European ever dreamed of an 
 Indian. After this, slight pains in the head often started 
 dreams of Indians with their scalping knives. 
 
 A chief reason why dreams are so fantastic and out of 
 all keeping with the actual conditions of life is because 
 the association of ideas has no guiding purpose and is like 
 a runawayhorse. Riding after such an animal is different
 
 128 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 from ordinary riding; for the horse, unrestrained by the 
 rein, is liable to go almost anywhere. In our waking 
 hours we generally have a more or less definite purpose 
 in view, and we keep our ideas in the middle of the road 
 leading to our destination. If other ideas force themselves 
 in for a short time, we generally drive them away and 
 keep on in the straight road of our predetermined business 
 or pleasure ; or, if we start off on a new path, we follow 
 that straight for awhile. In dreams there is no concen- 
 tration of attention upon any one definite line. Ideas 
 related in any strange fashion may come trooping in, and 
 any one of these may call up any other fantastically re- 
 lated idea. At the same time there are often remarkable 
 exhibitions of the constructive imagination in dreams. 
 This is due to unconscious cerebral processes. 
 
 Power of the Association of Ideas. 
 
 Ideas are Colored by Associated Ideas. An eminent 
 philosopher has said that man is completely at the mercy 
 of the association of his ideas. Every new object is 
 seen in the light of its associated ideas. A man was 
 once relating a very amusing story, as he thought, of a 
 fishing party. While the rest of the company were laugh- 
 ing, a woman suddenly burst into tears. The idea associ- 
 ated in her mind with fishing excursions was the death of 
 her son by drowning. A poet was one day admiring the 
 graceful curves of the waves and experiencing a soothing 
 sensation from their sound, when he heard a fishwife ex- 
 claim, as she looked at a white-capped wave, " How I 
 hates to see thee show thy white teeth." To her the 
 sea was a monster that had devoured her loved ones. 
 
 The principle of the association of ideas is sufficient to
 
 REPRESENTATION. 1 2Q 
 
 account for the change in fashions. A woman in a south- 
 ern city had a bonnet that she particularly admired, until 
 she one day saw three negresses wearing precisely the 
 same pattern. She never appeared again in that bonnet. 
 When a style of dress becomes " common," and is worn by 
 the lower classes, it is discarded by the fashionable people. 
 /Tashions that are absolutely repulsive will often be adopted 
 \if they are introduced by popular or noted people. From 
 his excesses, Henry VIII. became a bloated figure in the 
 latter part of his life, and the aristocracy stuffed their 
 clothing to imitate his size. Queen Elizabeth had auburn 
 hair, and the ladies of fashion sought for a dye that would 
 turn their hair to the aristocratic shade. 
 
 A knowledge of the power of the association of ideas is 
 of the utmost importance in business. One man has his 
 store so planned that all its associations are pleasing, from 
 the manners of the clerks to the fixtures and drapery. 
 Another store brings up unpleasant associations. A 
 business man was about to employ a young man for an 
 important position, when one day the elder chanced to 
 catch sight of him in questionable company. . The law of 
 contiguity henceforth brought up this company whenever 
 the young man was thought of, and he failed to secure the 
 position. 
 
 When negligee hats first made their appearance, a 
 shrewd hatter sent for a very popular and well-dressed col- 
 legian and offered him his choice of the best hats in the 
 store, if he would wear a negligee hat for three days. He 
 objected to making such an exhibition of himself, until he 
 was flattered by the hatter's wager that the hats 'could, 
 in this way, be made the fashion for the entire town. 
 When the collegian first put in his appearance on the 
 campus with the hat, he was guyed for its oddity. Late in 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. a
 
 130 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 the afternoon, some of his friends concluded that the hat 
 looked so well that they would invest. On the following 
 day large numbers reached the same conclusion. For 
 some time after this the hatter found difficulty in keeping 
 a sufficient supply in stock. Had an unpopular or poorly 
 dressed man appeared first on the campus with that hat, 
 the result would have been the reverse. The hat would 
 have been the same, but the association of ideas would 
 have differed. 
 
 Some of the ladies of fashion in a large European city 
 selected on their own responsibility, without consulting 
 the milliners, a cheap spring Manilla hat, which wasi-" , ' 
 very handsome. The milliners found themselves with a^ 
 high-priced stock for which there was no demand. They 
 held a council, bought a large number of the cheap hats, 
 and put them on the heads of all the female street sweepers 
 
 and scavengers in the town. When the ladies of fashion 
 
 went out the next day, they were amazed to see the veiylngyjj 
 dregs of the city arrayed in head gear like their own. It 
 was not long before the result was what might have been 
 expected. 
 
 Few people stop to think how powerful with every one 
 is the association of ideas. Few would have any ob- 
 jection to dancing merrily on a plain rosewood board. 
 Let that same board be cut up and put together in the 
 form of a coffin, and no one with memories of a dead 
 friend or relative would manifest merriment in its pres- 
 ence. The same rosewood board would be there, but not 
 the same association of ideas. While visiting the New 
 Orleans Exposition, a woman asked a friend to call her 
 attention to any embroidery that he saw. His attention 
 happened to be drawn to a white casket in the undertakers' 
 exhibit. On the lid of this casket were some of the most
 
 REPRESENTATION. 1 3 1 
 
 exquisitely embroidered flowers. Knowing her fondness 
 for them, he called her. She came eagerly ; but when she 
 saw them on the lid of a coffin, she fairly ran away. 
 
 It is not the business of the psychologist to state what 
 power the association of ideas ought to have. It is for 
 him to ascertain what power it does have. When we 
 think of the bigotry of past ages, of the stake for the 
 martyr and the stoning of witches, we can realize the 
 force of Professor Ziehen's statement :/" We cannot think; 
 as we will, but we must think as just those associations) 
 which happen to be present prescribe?)' While this is 
 not literally true, it may serve to emphasize a deflecting 
 factor which is usually underestimated. 
 
 VA>LM OUAX., ~ru VJULXI 
 
 c 
 
 i 
 
 i
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY 
 
 Physiological Side. We have learned that when a cer- 
 tain part of the brain is diseased or destroyed, our memory 
 for a certain class of sensations is affected. We know 
 that memory involves a physical change in the brain. 
 For lasting memory, perception must cause a permanent 
 change in the brain cells. Since physiological psychology 
 has demonstrated this, it has been possible to proceed more 
 intelligently in cultivating the memory. 
 
 Beyond question, some men have at birth marvelously 
 impressible brains. That men should differ in brain 
 power is no stranger than that they should differ in 
 muscular power. Without training, John L. Sullivan could 
 have overpowered several ordinary men at one time. He 
 was naturally endowed with unusually strong muscles. 
 
 We may grant all these physiological facts and native 
 differences, and yet insist on the great importance of 
 memory culture. If the muscles of an arm are naturally 
 weak and flabby, there is all the more reason for exercising 
 it. Even a Sullivan improves his strong arms by exercise. 
 Had he kept one in a sling, that arm would soon have 
 become weak. To keep either muscle or brain tissue from 
 becoming weak, we must obey certain laws. 
 
 An eminent physiological psychologist says of the memo- 
 ries common to most of us : " During the first five minutes 
 
 132
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY- 133 
 
 after their deposition, the images of memory lose very little 
 or nothing at all of their intensity and distinctness. Then 
 the slow process of material change begins, gradually 
 effacing the material dispositions. To express it in the 
 language of psychology, the images of memory gradually 
 lose their intensity and distinctness. The more seldom 
 they are reproduced, the more rapidly does this change 
 progress " (i). " If we often see a certain man, the latent 
 material trace of this complex of sensations is more deeply 
 imprinted on the elements of the cerebral cortex than 
 when we see him but rarely. We can recall the idea of 
 this man more easily and more vividly, if we have seen 
 him often. . . . We must regard this material trace, 
 which we designated conditionally as a latent image of 
 memory, to be in reality a definite spatial arrangement 
 and a definite constitution of the molecules. Originally, 
 this arrangement is very unstable ; not until after the 
 same sensation has been very frequently experienced 
 does the molecular arrangement which it creates and 
 leaves become stable. Only after the ganglion cell has 
 acquired in this manner a very definite and fixed dispo- 
 sition of its molecules can a vivid idea be awafcened from 
 this disposition by association. At the same time the idea 
 is more easily awakened by association, the more fixed the 
 arrangement of molecules. . . . Finally, we can draw 
 one more simple conclusion with reference to the latent 
 images of memory. If these are in fact only material 
 dispositions, the material change in the ganglion cell will 
 not be without influence upon this molecular disposition. 
 In other words, if new and more or less similar sensations 
 do not again renew this disposition, in the course of time 
 it will imperceptibly lose its stability and be finally 
 obliterated. The simplest introspection agrees with this
 
 '34 
 
 statement. This loosening and final destruction of the 
 latent mental images is nothing more than what we call 
 forgetfulness ; we forget ideas that are not constantly and 
 repeatedly reexcited by similar or like sensations " (2). 
 
 On the physical side, it must be said that whatever 
 affects the general health will affect the memory. Indi- 
 gestion, headache, weariness, bad air, all affect the brain. 
 A man with a naturally fine memory was taken sick, and, 
 on recovering, he suffered for nearly a year from feeble 
 heart action. A sufficient quantity of pure blood did not 
 reach his brain. During this time he often complained 
 that he could remember scarcely anything. When the 
 heart action again became normal, his memory regained 
 its former vigor. 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. 
 
 The Formation of a Clear-cut Image. Haziness of 
 perteptioa-Jies -at the root of many a bad memory. If 
 perception is definite, the first step has been taken toward 
 insuring a good memory. If the fir^t imprftpf""" -Js-Kuad, 
 its effect upon the brain cells is more lasting. All persons 
 ought to practice their visualizing power. This will react 
 on perception and make it more definite. Visualizing will 
 also form a brain habit of remembering things pictorially, 
 and hence more exactly. 
 
 Sir Francis Galton states that while visualizing is a 
 faculty hereditary with some people, it is yet capable of 
 being acquired. He instances the case of a noted French 
 teacher, who trained his pupils so that after three or four 
 months' practice, the students " had no difficulty in sum- 
 moning images at will, in holding them steady, and in
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 135 
 
 drawing them." Every walk affords materials for training 
 this faculty. Let any one see if he can vividly image 
 some fine-looking house, tree, flower, or landscape. In 
 studying botany, it is not rare for a pupil to be able to 
 recall the image of an absent flower, with all peculiarities 
 of shape and attachment of petals, and to point out 
 the exact difference between it and a present flower. 
 Persons who can visualize in this way are at a great 
 advantage, when some deceitful tradesman tries to make 
 them think that a certain article is the same as one they 
 have bought before, or even superior to it. They merely 
 summon the image and compare it with the' present article. 
 From his extensive study of this faculty, Sir Francis 
 Galton is entitled to speak with unusual authority. He 
 says: "The free action of a vivid visualizing faculty is 
 of much importance in connection with the higher proc- 
 esses of generalized thought. ... A visual image is the 
 most perfect form of mental representation wherever the 
 shape, position, and relations of objects in space are con- 
 cerned. . . . The best workmen are those who visualize 
 the whole of what they propose to do before they take a 
 tool in their hands. . . . Strategists, artists of all denomi- 
 nations, physicists who contrive new experiments, and, in 
 short, all who do not follow routine, have need of it. The 
 pleasure its use can afford is immense. I have many cor- 
 respondents who say that the delight of recalling beautiful 
 scenery and great works of art is the highest that they 
 know ; they carry whole picture galleries in their minds. 
 Our bookish and wordy education tends to repress this 
 valuable gift of nature. A faculty that is of importance 
 in all technical and artistic occupations, that gives accu- 
 racy to our perceptions, and justice to our generalizations, 
 is starved by lazy disuse, instead of being cultivated judl
 
 136 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ciously in such a way as will, on the whole, bring the best 
 return. I believe that a serious study of the best means 
 of developing and utilizing this faculty, without prejudice 
 to the practice of abstract thought in symbols, is one of 
 the many pressing desiderata in the yet unformed science 
 of education " (3). 
 
 APPLICATION OF THE PRIMARY LAW OF ASSOCIATION 
 IN THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 
 
 Law of Contiguity. The facility with which we remem- 
 ber things will depend largely upon the way in which we 
 associate them. An intelligent use of the law of contiguity 
 will aid the memory. Suppose we were to wish to remember 
 when Sophocles, Plato, Alexander the Great, Socrates, Aris- 
 totle, Philip of Macedon, Euripides, Demosthenes, and 
 Herodotus lived. If we tried to remember them as so 
 many isolated individuals, we should have hard work. It is 
 unnecessary for us to select more than one date to be learned 
 outright, 470 B.C., the birth of Socrates. He was the in- 
 structor of Plato ; Plato, of Aristotle ; Aristotle, of Alexander 
 the Great. Philip of Macedon was the father of Alexander. 
 Against Philip, Demosthenes delivered his noted orations, 
 called Philippics. Between 500 and 470 B.C. were born 
 Sophocles, Euripides, Herodotus, and Thucydides, hence all 
 were contemporaries of Socrates. The birth of Euripides 
 and the battles of Thermopylae and Salamis occurred in the 
 same year, 480 B.C., while the battle of Plataea was fought 
 the year after. 
 
 By ingenious use of the law of contiguity we string 
 these men and events together like beads. A pull on the 
 string brings them all into view. Were they learned as 
 isolated facts, there would be no associative power to aid
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 137 
 
 recall. The law would be ready enough to help us, but 
 we would not invoke its aid. 
 
 A student of English history can make the date 1666 
 bring up a large number of facts. The great fire which 
 destroyed the larger part of London occurred in this year. 
 This fire was the cause of the formation of the first fire 
 insurance company in London. In that year tea was first 
 brought from China into England. The year 1666 saw the 
 following famous persons living, we notice that six of 
 them are named John : John Milton, John Bunyan, John 
 Dryden, John Locke, John Evelyn, John Churchill, Samuel 
 Butler, Samuel Pepys, Samuel Richardson, Sir Thomas 
 Browne, Thomas Hobbes, Sir Isaac Newton, Robert Her- 
 rick, Richard Baxter, Jeremy Taylor, William Wycherly, 
 William Temple, William Penn, Daniel Defoe, Izaak Wal- 
 ton, and Robert Boyle, the father of chemistry. 
 
 The year before, that is, 1665, saw the Great Plague, 
 when London was so depopulated that grass grew in its 
 streets. In this year Milton finished his Paradise Lost. 
 The year before, in 1664, New Amsterdam was taken by 
 the Duke of York, from whom it was called New York. 
 
 The best way to study history or literature is to select 
 some noted man or epoch and group as much as possible 
 around this central idea. For example, take the Eliza- 
 bethan period and group around it the men and events 
 of note of that period, not only in England but also in 
 Europe. Ideas thus grouped will often come in a proces- 
 sion before the mind, and hence they will be kept fresh by 
 reviewing. John Stuart Blackie gives this wise advice : 
 " Read as much as possible systematically and chrono- 
 logically. Without order things will not hang together in 
 the mind, and the most natural and instructive order is the 
 order of genesis and growth."
 
 u 
 138 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTU 
 
 ULTURE. 
 U>Xk TJM. 
 
 USE OF THE SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION IN 
 THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 
 
 Law of Correlation. Whenever we can discover any 
 relation between facts, it is far easier to remember them. 
 The intelligent law of memory may be summed up in 
 these words : .Endeavor to link by some thought relation 
 each new mental acquisition to an old one. Bind new 
 facts to other facts by. relations of similarity, cause and 
 effect, whole and part, or by any logical relation, and we 
 shall find that when an idea occurs to us, a host of related 
 ideas will immediately flow into the mind. If we wish 
 to prepare a speech or write an article on any subject, 
 pertinent illustrations will suggest themselves. The person 
 whose memory is merely contiguous will wonder how we 
 think of them. 
 
 Almost any study, if approached in the right way, will 
 afford material for cultivating the correlative memory. In 
 all history we shall find constantly recurring elements. 
 There is so much similarity that the more we read and 
 compare the histories of various nations, the fewer abso- 
 lutely new things do we find with which we must burden 
 our memories. 
 
 No matter what subject we are studying, it will be well 
 to bear in mind Professor Blackie's advice : " Nothing 
 helps the mind so much as order and classification. 
 Classes are always few, individuals many ; to know the 
 class well is to know what is most essential in the char- 
 acter of the individual, and what burdens the memory least 
 to retain." 
 
 Though the brain is in its most pl^Hr state hpfnr^ 
 the age of .fifteen, and in that state the brain certainly 
 can most quickly and most easily amass a vast number of
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 139 
 
 isolated facts, yet, if we know English and Latin, we can 
 at the age of twenty learn French more easily than we 
 could learn it as our first new language at twelve. The 
 reason for this is that our correlative memories improve 
 with age. In learning a new language, there are so many 
 points of likeness to the old, that each succeeding new 
 language becomes easier and easier because there are so 
 few really new roots in it to be learned outright. By 
 way of illustration, from the English night and the Latin 
 noctis, may easily be remembered the Greek nuktos, the 
 Sanskrit Nakta, the German Nac/it,.ihe Anglo-Saxon niht, 
 and the French nuit. 
 
 The mere act of comparing one thing with others serves 
 to concentrate attention upon it, and thus to secure defi- 
 nite cerebral effects. The nearest -approach to a royal road 
 to memory is by comparison- But a difficulty frequently 
 presents itself in correlative association because there may 
 be no apparent likeness between two objects. If we take 
 a list of objects among which we can easily discern a 
 relation, it will cause us little trouble to remember them 
 in order. With one careful reading we can recall in order v 
 vapor, clouds, rain, spring, brook, lake, river, ocean, waves, 
 icebergs, ships, sailors, rigging, sails, wind, rocks, wrecks, 
 lifeboats, life-saving stations. We must be careful to \ 
 detain vapor and clouds in the mind for a moment and \ j 
 notice the relation between them ; then we must compare 
 clouds and rain ; then, rain and spring, taking care to have 
 only two objects in the mind at one time, and only those 
 two which are to be immediately associated. If we have 
 the first and the third in the mind together, the first will 
 have a tendency to suggest the third and not the second. 
 
 Unfortunately all objects are not so easily associated. J 
 There are many between which the slightest relation doe^
 
 I4O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 not appear at first sight ; but we must remember that 
 everything in this world is either directly associated with 
 other things, or it is related to a third object which in turn 
 is related to these other things. It may be hard work to 
 associate spike directly with pirate, but we can easily asso- 
 ciate a spike with the planks of a ship and the ship with a 
 pirate. The principle by which we associate things will 
 differ according to our education and experience. Some 
 would supply the associating links in this way : spike 
 (steel, metal, gold, thief) pirate. A chemist might say 
 spike (iron filings, ink, black flag) pirate; a clergyman, 
 spike (crucifixion, pieces of silver, ill-gotten gains) pirate. 
 If we were asked to associate eagle with shoe, we might 
 think of aerial locomotion, then of terrestrial locomotion, 
 then of shoe ; or, eagle (wing, foot) shoe. If a person had 
 read how an eagle attacked a young calf, he would say: 
 eagle (calf, calfskin) shoe. A classical scholar might make 
 this combination : eagle (Mercury's winged sandals, foot) 
 shoe. 
 
 Suppose we were required to retain, in order, the fol- 
 lowing ideas : barrel, moon, horse, gold, ocean, star, water- 
 melon, humming bird, trunk, salt, pig, mausoleum, coal, 
 balloon, ice, picnic, Mr. Gladstone, Iceland, lamp, tooth, 
 Paradise Lost. The skeleton outline of a speech, suggest- 
 ing the different heads and illustrations, is frequently as 
 difficult to remember as these. Unless an associative prin- 
 ciple is found, one object will not be apt to suggest another. 
 We shall now proceed to give one of the many ways by 
 which the above-mentioned list of objects may be com- 
 bined, putting in parentheses the objects used solely for 
 connecting links : 
 
 Barrel, (circular head) moon, (moonlight rides) horse, 
 (power) gold, (precious objects, pearl oysters) ocean, (the
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 141 
 
 Compass of Phoenician sailors) star, (night, thief) water- 
 melon, (sweet fruit, honey) humming bird, (swiftly moving 
 object, express train) trunk, (journey, Dead Sea) salt, (salted 
 meat) pig, (slaughter house, death) mausoleum, (funeral, cre- 
 mation) coal, (gas) balloon, (altitude) ice, (ice cream) picnic, 
 (grove, felling trees) Mr. Gladstone, (England, island) Ice- 
 land, (long nights) lamp, (oil, fat meat) tooth, (toothache, 
 pain) Paradise Lost. 
 
 In order to have facts adhere firmly in the mind, they 
 must be thought over, and their relations to knowledge 
 already acquired must be understood. All this takes tirne ; 
 hence the majority will never have the patience to cultivate 
 their memories. No memory scheme that claims to pro 
 duce startling results in a few lessons is of much value. 
 Any one might as well claim to make, in a few days, an 
 athlete out of a weak person. It takes time to train the 
 muscular system to its highest development ; and then it 
 requires constant training to keep the muscles strong. 
 Keep .an arm in a sling for a month, and the arm will be 
 weak. Neglect the proper training and use of the memory 
 for some time, and the memory will become less vigorous. 
 (Constant work is the price of success in anything?) 
 
 Since time is required to note what points of attachment 
 a new fact has to an old, we can understand why it does 
 little good to rush over a subject in a short time in pre- 
 paring for an examination, or to see how quickly one can 
 get over a book. The results for a few hours may seem 
 brilliant, but the mind has not had time to classify the 
 new facts or to note in what relation they stand to knowl- 
 edge already acquired. Jnrelated facts, unless frequently 
 reviewed, will soon be forgotten, and all the time spent in 
 acquiring them wiil prove wasted. An eminent English 
 lawyer said that the associates of his youth frequently read
 
 142 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 as much law in a day as he in a week, but at the end of 
 twelve months his knowledge was as fresh as at first, while 
 theirs had been forgotten. He took the time to weave his 
 knowledge together into a finished fabric. 
 
 Unrelated Facts. While we recognize the truth that the 
 majority of facts can be united by thought relations, we 
 must remember that life also requires us to learn many 
 arbitrary symbols. The statement that the only improve- 
 ment in memory consists in an improvement in thinking is 
 perhaps more than three quarters true. But the statement 
 does not convey the whole truth, and is for that very 
 reason misleading. There are many things that have to be 
 learned outright. No amount of reasoning will give 1066 
 as the date of the Norman Conquest, or 1455 to 1485 as 
 the duration of the Wars of the Roses. 
 
 It is unfortunate that so much of our lives has to be 
 spent in learning arbitrary symbols ; but such is the fact. 
 Language, as we actually learn it, is largely arbitrary. No 
 person can give a valid reason why the term " oak " should 
 not have been applicable to a hickory tree, or " larch " to a 
 pine tree, or why the rose should not have been called by 
 some other name. The student of physiological psychol- 
 ogy learns that the motor center for speech is in the third 
 frontal convolution, while the sensory center lies on the 
 other side of the Sylvian fissure in the upper temporo- 
 sphenoidal convolution, and the sight center is in the 
 occipital lobes, although he cannot understand why these 
 localizations should not have been different. The anato- 
 mist has to remember outright the attachment of hun- 
 dreds of muscles, and the fanciful names given many of 
 the bodily organs. In short, in everyday life, one has to 
 retain many things by sheer force of memory, unassisted
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 143 
 
 fry reason. No one, in the first place, ever learned how 
 to conjugate the English, Greek, or German verb "to be" 
 by force of reason. 
 
 The remaining secondary laws of association will be 
 found especially helpful in enabling us to learn arbitrary 
 
 facts, as well as related ones. 
 
 * c^. f\ 
 
 . jxMAGTVlUX D Vto >M> <*$> 
 
 Law of Repetitionf We have? learned that there is 
 struggle on the part of mental images to survive. Life 
 
 weakest go to the wall. Vigorous 
 
 and well-grounded images will monopolize the field of con- 
 sciousness and of course exclude the weaker ones. The 
 secondary laws of association show us what gives an image 
 strength, what enables it to survive. 
 
 Since we have learned that memory is dependent on a 
 physical disposition of brain cells, repetition has held a 
 high place in memory culture. In order to achieve per- 
 manent results in growing and changeable matter, the 
 cause must be persistently active. When we speak of 
 repetition as an aid to memory, we do not necessarily mean 
 blind repetition. The steps in a reasoning process can be 
 repeated as well as a series of incoherent ideas. Therefore, 
 repetition is as much of an aid to intelligent as to unin- 
 telligent memory. Few persons realize how great an aid 
 it is in both cases. 
 
 It is a stupendous task to learn even our own language 
 so as to speak it readily, but constant repetition fixes word 
 after word so firmly in the mind, that we can recall thou- 
 sands with no danger of forgetting. The reason why it is 
 desirable to go to a foreign country to learn its language is 
 because repetition works there with full force. We are 
 constantly hearing the same words and phrases. We are 
 compelled to talk the language ourselves, and to keep
 
 144 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 constantly using the vocabulary we have acquired. When 
 we leave the country and neglect to use the language for a 
 long time, we find that so many words have slipped away 
 that we are perplexed to carry on continued conversation. 
 And yet a moderate amount of repetition after our return 
 will enable us to keep our memory of the language fresh. 
 It is a difficult task to learn twenty-six meaningless sym- 
 bols in exact order, yet repetition has enabled us all to 
 remember the letters of the alphabet in order. We never 
 even fear making a mistake as we hasten over them. 
 
 Because of the natural law that everything tends to 
 weaken by disuse, muscle and mind alike, we should all 
 endeavor to enter into some pursuit or study that will 
 force us to make constant use of the knowledge we 
 already have. The fact that writing does this in an 
 eminent degree has led Alexander Bain to remark that 
 "a course of book reading without attempts at original 
 composition is as faulty an extreme as to begin and carry 
 on writing upon a stinted basis of reading." A class or a 
 literary club is fitted to draw forth whatever knowledge 
 one possesses and to keep it fresh by constant use. Pjetv 
 haps the most valuable auxiliary to the memory is conver- 
 sation. If we talk over with some sympathetic friend 
 what we have read, we refresh our knowledge, and im- 
 press our own minds doubly ; for the conversational way 
 of putting things demands that we first have lucid ideas 
 and then express them in the clearest manner. 
 
 A patient German, Professor Ebbinghaus, experimented 
 with his memory for over two years, and he learned many 
 important facts about remembering and forgetting. He 
 could recall in order with one reading seven meaningless 
 words. In ' order to recall twelve such words, sixteen 
 readings were necessary ; to recall twenty-four words,
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 145 
 
 forty-four readings were required. After an interval of 
 one hour more than one half of the words had been for- 
 gotten. In eight hours two thirds had slipped from mem- 
 ory. From that time on the rate of forgetting was slower, 
 and at the end of a month one fifth was remembered. 
 
 These experiments afford some practical truths (i) 
 We must expect to forget soon the greater part of what we 
 have learned, unless we have an occasional thorough review, 
 or unless the knowledge is such that we have to make con- 
 stant use of it. (2) Thoroughness at the time of learning 
 
 but the German 
 
 professor found that no amount of repetition at the time of 
 the original memorizing would make him sure of remem- 
 bering for all future time. The work must be reviewed 
 after an interval of time. The fact that an iron has 
 been well polished once does not render it certain that it 
 will never again rust. A young physician thought that 
 he could turn his attention entirely away from medicine 
 toward something else and still retain his medical knowl- 
 edge. After he had followed this course for six years, he 
 declared that he felt almost as incompetent to treat a case 
 of diphtheria, which presented itself to him, as if he had 
 never studied medicine. Much disappointment will be 
 avoided in any walk of life, if we do not expect to 
 remember those facts which we do not frequently review.^ ^ _ 
 
 Law of Emotional Preference. There is nothing easier 
 than for one to recollect what greatly interests him. If 
 interest i^ji_be--brQiiffht to the aid of memory. the-battle_ 
 is-partially-JKOJ). Boys, who could apparently remember 
 nothing in the way of study, have gone to a baseball game 
 and been able to recall every one of the complex moves. 
 The power of interest furnishes the reason why the 
 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 1C
 
 146 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ory of the creditor is proverbially excellent. There was a 
 certain man who. had two kinds of memory, so his enemies 
 said, one for his own affairs, which was excellent ; another 
 for the affairs of others, which was execrable. 
 
 One way, therefore, in which to render a mental acquisi- 
 tion permanent is to become interested in it. If the subject 
 is something for which we have not naturally a particle of 
 interest, it is still possible to acquire an indirect interest. 
 We may consider how the acquisition will some day be 
 advantageous, how it will bring us either fame, friends, 
 or money. When we look at things from the point of 
 view of their results, it is far easier to become inter- 
 ested. The writer once knew a man who dreaded learn- 
 ing isolated facts or arbitrary symbols, yet he quickly 
 mastered stenography because he knew it would be the 
 means of his gaining a livelihood. Interest works with 
 double leverage, first rendering acquisition easy and pleas- 
 ant and then making memory sure. 
 
 If we were to take a careful inventory of all remembered 
 facts, we should find that the vast majority were those in 
 which we felt an interest. Other facts naturally slide out 
 of the memory by default of repetition. 
 
 Law of Voluntary Attention. Those ideas are most apt 
 to be recalled upon which we have by an act of the will 
 centered our attention. Joseph Cook well says : " Atten- 
 tion is the mother of memory, and interest is the mother 
 of attention. To secure memory, secure both her mother 
 and grandmother." 
 
 Many persons read mechanically or automatically ; they 
 are perfectly passive ; they never summon their will power 
 to aid them in ferreting out the thought. There are many 
 who pass through life without ever concentrating all their
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 147 
 
 mental energy upon a single page. Just as a sunglass can 
 focus the solar rays until a fire is kindled, so the will can 
 concentrate the intellectual energies upon a subject until 
 it is fused and absorbed by the mind. That mechanical or 
 involuntary attention which the majority give to their read- 
 ing, or to their so-called study, explains why so many so 
 soon forget what they have read. The memories of such 
 people are apt to grow poorer and poorer ; it becomes in- 
 creasingly harder for them to break up their habits of 
 inattention, and so lasting memory is lost to them. 
 
 On the other hand, when the habit of concentrating the 
 attention has once been formed, it requires less and less 
 effort to keep the mind firmly fixed on a subject. Per- 
 sons traveling through an interesting country may let the 
 scenery be imaged on the retina, without directing any 
 energetic attention toward certain features. If asked at 
 the journey's end to describe the country, they are unable 
 to do so. A copyist, having transcribed a long article, was 
 asked to give as much as possible of its contents, the arti- 
 cle having been lost. Though he had copied every word, 
 he did not retain a single thought, for the reason that he 
 had not fastened his attention upon the thought. One 
 reason why drawing is such an excellent aid to memory is 
 because such severe drafts are made upon the attention. 
 
 Many persons sigh over a weak memory, never think- 
 ing that the trouble is rather in the will. One of 
 the saddest things in life is to see the vast amount of 
 misapplied and unused mental energy. Every person, 
 ought occasionally to talk to himself in this way : " I am 
 sure that I can remember a thing if I am determined to do 
 so. The trouble has hitherto lain in my will, not in my 
 memory. My will has been a milk-and-water kind of an 
 affair, worthy of a jellyfish, not of a human being. I have
 
 148 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 been impatient to master a given subject quickly and 1 
 have determined that if I could not fly to a given place, I 
 would scorn to walk slowly to it. I hate trouble and hard 
 work, and that is the reason why I do not improve. JT~ 
 realize that persons with half my intellect. bi]{; dnnhlp 
 wjU,, are_surpassing me every day Shall the tortoise con- 
 tinue * b-^at the harp in lifo'fi rnfift ? He will if he keeps 
 plodding right aloQg, tW"i n g ripith<*rn flic rigfrt nor left." 
 
 MIND WANDERING. 
 
 Practical Remedies for Mind Wandering. A sure cure 
 for mind wandering is to make an abstract from memory 
 of sermons, speeches, or books. If one is reading a work 
 on history, let him, after finishing a page, close the book 
 and repeat to himself the substance of that page. If he 
 cannot do so with one reading, let him reread until he 
 can. It does not show good generalship to march into a 
 hostile country leaving forts and armies unconquered in 
 the rear. After finishing a chapter, let him repeat to him- 
 self, or to some friend, the substance of that chapter. At the 
 end of the book, let him repeat the main facts in the entire 
 work. The mind may wander at first, and scarcely any- 
 thing may be retained from one reading ; but as soon as 
 the mind feels that it will be surely called upon to repro- 
 duce what has been read, its energy will be doubled. It 
 will soon cease the lazy habit of merely allowing impres- 
 sions to come in to meet it ; it will reach out to meet the 
 impressions. 
 
 The writer knows of a -case of mind wandering cured by 
 the oral recital and the making of a written abstract of the 
 substance of three books, an English history, John Stuart 
 Mill's Political Economy, and a text-book on psychology.
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 149 
 
 The chapters were in every case reread until a full abstract 
 of each could be written down from memory. 
 
 VALUE OF PSYCHIC LAWS IN MEMORY CULTURE. 
 
 Psychic Laws not to be Evaded. The student ought 
 not to be disappointed to find that memory is no exception 
 to the rule of improvement by proper methodical and long- 
 continued exercise. There is no royal road, no short cut, 
 to the improvement of either mind or muscle. But the 
 student who follows the rules which psychology has laid 
 down may know that he is walking in the shortest path, 
 and not wandering aimlessly about. Using these rules, 
 he will advance much faster than those without chart, 
 compass, or pilot. He will find mnemonics of extremely 
 limited use. Improvement comes by orderly steps. 
 Methods that dazzle at first sight never give solid results. 
 After a careful study of all the principal memory methods, 
 the writer has endeavored to give all the rules that will be 
 found of practical service. These rules are merely practi- 
 cal applications of the inexorable psychological laws stated 
 in the foregoing pages. 
 
 AUTHORITIES QUOTED- 
 
 1. Ziehen's Introduction to Physiological Psychology, p. 220. 
 
 2. Ziehen, Ibid., pp. 170-1. 
 
 3. Gallon's Inquiries into Human Faculty, pp. 109, 113-4
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Definition. \Jmagination is the power of representing 
 a mental product as an image.) Whenever any idea is 
 embodied in an image, the result is the work of imagina- 
 tion. Both memory and imagination are merely the repre- 
 sentative power at work. As we shall see presently, there 
 is no absolute line of demarcation between its products. 
 Things which have once been presented are presented 
 again by the imagination, in a more or less new way. 
 
 A completed image of an individual thing is a complex 
 product, woven from the raw material of several sensations. 
 As before stated, the term " image " in psychology, is as 
 applicable to a represented sensation of the ear as to one 
 of the eye. There are auditory, tactile, olfactory, gusta- 
 tory, and optical images. 
 
 Imagination in Perception. We have already seen 
 that sensation furnishes raw materials for perception to 
 interpret. Imagination always aids in this process. If we 
 look at an apple before us, we construct an image of the 
 opposite side, which we cannot see. Otherwise we could 
 never have an idea of an entire apple, a pitcher, a house, 
 or anything of which we could not see all parts at once. 
 When we are directly in front of a person, we do not 
 conclude that his head ends with the part of his face that 
 
 150
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 151 
 
 we see. We represent to ourselves the back of his head. 
 Let any one suppose that the face of some actual person 
 is all there is to the head, that the back part either does 
 not exist or has been sawed off, and then notice the differ- 
 ence in the idea of that person's head. We perceive only 
 the outside of a watermelon, but that means little to us 
 unless we picture the ruddy interior with its rows of seeds. 
 
 Two Uses of the Term Imagination. I. In one sense 
 imagination is the power of so-called literal reproduc- 
 tion of an actually existing thing, under the semblance of 
 an image. This is precisely what we mean by an image 
 of memory. If we close our eyes and image an apple as 
 faithfully as possible, we use imagination in this sense of 
 the term. 
 
 II. There are images to which there is nothing exactly 
 corresponding in the external world. We illustrate in a 
 marked way the power of the imagination to construct 
 such images, when we form ideas of a mermaid, Pegasus, 
 a winged angel, or a bridge before it is built. 
 
 No Absolute Line of Demarcation between These Two 
 Classes of Images. Recent psychology has triumphantly 
 bridged over the gap between the so-called literal and 
 the constructive image, as Professor Wundt clearly shows, 
 when he says : " Psychologists are accustomed to define 
 memory images as ideas which exactly reproduce some 
 previous perception, and fancy images as ideas consisting 
 of a combination of elements taken from a whole number 
 of perceptions. Now memory images in the sense of this 
 definition simply do not exist. . . . Try, for instance, 
 to draw from memory some landscape picture which you 
 have only once seen, and then compare your copy with
 
 152 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 the original. You will expect to find plenty of mistakes 
 and omissions ; but you will also invariably find that you 
 have put a great deal in which was not in the original, but 
 which comes from landscape pictures which you have seen 
 somewhere else. . . . There is no memory image that 
 reproduces either the primary perception image, or any 
 other memory image of that same perception." 
 
 We may, therefore, state as a law the fact that images, 
 never exactly reproduce the originaL.. object. They are 
 subject to constant change from loss of certain elements, 
 from the addition of elements belonging to different expe- 
 riences, and from changes in retentive brain tracts. 
 
 Popular common sense nevertheless insists that there is 
 a difference in images with respect to reality. After we 
 remember the conditions given above, we may rightly 
 admit that some images are more like reality than others. 
 We may give an approximately accurate statement of the 
 difference between the two classes of images as follows : 
 Images differ in the exactness wherewith they represent real 
 things. Some images are much more nearly literal copies 
 of existing things, are more easily recognized as representa- 
 tions of things that have actually been perceived. The 
 image of a Pegasus, unlike that of an ordinary horse, could 
 not be referred to an object seen before. . The element of 
 recognition is therefore less prominent in the second type 
 of imagination. 
 
 Dissociation. As association is the first step in simply 
 remembering things, so dissociation is the process pre- 
 liminary to imagination of the second type. All concrete 
 images are formed in the first place by associating certain 
 elements. There is also the power of dissociating them, 
 preparatory to combining them in different ways. By
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 153 
 
 referring to Fig. 20, page 113, we see that sensations from 
 one object through the various senses pour into different 
 parts of the brain. Hence imagination has some naturally 
 dissociated material, with which to begin. 
 , .Experience is dissociative as well as associative*. The 
 ild pulls his toys to pieces and dismembers his dolls. If 
 Irving had no nursery experience that prompted the 
 introduction of the Headless Hessian into The Legend 
 of Sleepy Hollow, soldiers who were contemporary with 
 Irving had had such experiences. Man tears things to 
 pieces every day. He sees the trees bare' in winter, then 
 covered with vernal foliage and laden with autumnal fruit. 
 He views the trees now standing, now cut down, now 
 transformed into a beam, a board, a desk, a car. He 
 sees the wool on the back of the sheep reappear in the 
 most varied forms of clothing. The traveler to regions 
 south of the equator finds cold dissociated from December 
 and associated with June, and whiteness dissociated from 
 swans. In winter we see fluidity dissociated from water, 
 and, if the cold is sufficiently intense, from the metal 
 mercury also. 
 
 /Preliminary dissociation is the antecedent step to hnagi- 
 (jative construction. If an architect wishes to build a new 
 structure out of the materials of an old house, he must first 
 pull it down and separate them, so as to have them ready 
 for recombination. If things come with one invariable 
 associate, it is hard work to imagine them unconnected 
 with that. The King of Siam had always associated 
 fluidity with water, and he could not possibly imagine 
 how its surface could ever become hard enough for his 
 elephants to walk on. In the time of Columbus, the 
 imagination could not picture, on the opposite side of the 
 globe, men with feet toward ours. Children, and all who
 
 154 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 have had little experience with the outside world, have 
 narrow imaginations, partly for the reason that they have 
 found so many things with one invariable association. 
 Giants and fairies are easily pictured by children, because 
 human beings of various size are seen every day. A man 
 at a considerable distance would appear no larger than 
 a fairy or a pigmy. One of the easiest exercises of the 
 imagination is to vary things in size, because magnitude 
 changes not only with individuals but with distance. 
 
 Different Imaginative Products. I. The imagination 
 can construct an approximately literal image of some exist- 
 ing object. We may form an image of a tree with a view 
 to drawing it as exactly as possible. 
 
 II. The imagination has the power of separating parts 
 of concrete objects. We may imagine a human head 
 floating through space, separated from the body. The 
 Bible tells us of a hand that wrote upon the wall. We 
 may form images of a tree without branches, or of a 
 branch separated from the tree. In short, we may image 
 anything, from the claws of an eagle to the nose of a 
 swine, separated from the usual co-Q.CQmitants. 
 
 III. The imagination may form a simple combinatwn of 
 separated elements. The Grecian joined the head and 
 trunk of a man to the body of a horse, and thereby gave 
 us the mythical Centaur. To the body of a goat, the 
 imagination added the head of a lion and the tail of a 
 dragon, thus forming the classical Chimaera. To the body 
 of a dog, the imagination added three heads, and put snakes 
 in place of hair, thus fashioning Cerberus, the guardian 
 dog of Hades. The Harpies had the head of a beautiful 
 maiden, the body of a vulture, and the claws of an eagle. 
 The mediaeval Satan was constructed by adding to the
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 155 
 
 human form the horns of a goat, the hoofs and tail of an 
 ox, and the wings of a bat. Mercury's sandals were pro- 
 pelled by the wings of a bird. Our caricaturists place 
 the head of a politician on the body of a dog, a monkey, 
 or a serpent. 
 
 IV. The imagination has the power of representing any 
 actually existing object as diminished Jn size. Dean Swift 
 made use of this power in writing the voyage to Lilliput 
 in Gullivers Travels. The Lilliputians needed ladders 
 to climb upon the body of Gulliver, when he was lying 
 down, although he was a man of ordinary size. The 
 Grecian imagination has given us a vivid account of the 
 pigmies fighting with cranes. The fairies, with an acorn 
 for a car or a mushroom for a throne, are examples of the 
 use of this power, as are also the dwarfs with whom the 
 mediaeval imagination peopled every hill and mine. 
 
 V. The imagination can enjargf, to an indefinite extent, 
 images of actual objects. Thus, we have the giant Atlas 
 carrying the heavens upon his shoulders, the Hundred- 
 handed Giants, and the Cyclops whose single eye was 
 larger than a saucer. In the voyage to Brobdingnag, 
 Swift tells us of men seventy-two feet in height. In that 
 country Gulliver's head could be taken into an infant's 
 mouth. The Norse imagination made the Midgard Ser- 
 pent so large that it encircled the earth. 
 
 I. The imagination has the power of selecting from 
 the elements of images of past experience, of altering 
 these selected parts according to a rational plan, and ot 
 constructing a new image from these changed elements. 
 The productions of the great musical composers, poets, 
 artists, and inventors illustrate this constructive power 
 Nature gives us no object like a watch, a steam engine, 
 a typewriter, or a typesetting machine. The mind has no
 
 \JUAA_d/Yj23-*m . 
 v^ ^ 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 more important power at its disposal than the constructive 
 imagination. 
 
 Difference between the Mechanical and the Constructive 
 Imagination. Considering imagination as the power of 
 forming an image which does not represent with ap- 
 proximate exactness any existing thing, we must dis- 
 tinguish between that process which merely joins un- 
 changed parts of different objects and that which makes 
 a change before uniting them. If half a woman is joined 
 to half a fish, thus forming a mermaid ; if the head of a 
 donkey is placed by a comic artist on the shoulders of a 
 man, we have examples of the mechanical imagination. 
 If a shapeless lump of iron is fashioned into a sewing 
 machine or a locomotive, the image must precede the 
 material fashioning, we have imagination in the construc- 
 tive sense. 
 
 The mechanical imagination, which joins images in any 
 order, is seen in dreams ; incongruous images make their 
 appearance, subject to no plan. The lighter creations of 
 fancy often show the predominance of a passive mechan- 
 ical element, although construction is sometimes, at work 
 in a marked degree in both dreams and fancy. //'^> ' 
 
 /yw 
 
 The Constructive Imagination. The mechanical imagi- 
 nation joins dissociated parts without altering them. Such 
 products are as inferior to those of the constructive imagi- 
 nation as is a pile of brick to a finished house. 
 
 I. The constructive imagination is always characterized 
 by a definite purpose, which is never lost sight of until the 
 image is complete. A child starts to build a house out 
 of blocks. These are often changed and taken down many 
 times, before the form in which they are built is such as
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 157 
 
 to fit the growing, purposive image in the child's mind. 
 Before an architect builds a house, he must form succes- 
 sive images, which he alters whenever they conflict with 
 the general plan of that special dwelling. An inventor 
 often spends years in changing and recombining the im- 
 ages of parts of his machine, but he is all the while domi- 
 nated by a definite purpose. The images must be altered 
 until matter poured into their mold fulfills the aim of the 
 inventor. 
 
 II. The constructive imagination is selective. Images 
 which do not suit a given purpose are rejected. But few 
 of the many images summoned by the poet or inventor 
 are chosen. A child could not reach a coveted article 
 on the mantel in a sleeping room. Imagination began 
 to work, and soon a chair was pushed up to the mantel ; 
 but the chair was not sufficiently high for the article to 
 be reached. Again the imagination worked. The child 
 glanced at a second chair with the evident intention of 
 putting that on the first, but the result, though only im- 
 aged in this case, did not appear to please him. When 
 this image was dismissed, another was selected. On the 
 bed was lying a comforter, the shape of which did not fit 
 the chair. The child soon formed images of that com- 
 forter folded into the right size to go between the arms of 
 the chair; then he made the actual folds fit his mental 
 images. The comforter in its changed form was placed 
 in the chair, and the article could then be reached. In 
 an incipient way, this child showed the same kind of 
 selective imagination that is possessed by builders of 
 bridges and of houses. 
 
 III. The constructive imagination is always ajdejHnjts 
 work.by theJ^^^^girjower. The image which comes next, 
 no matter how incongruous, is allowed to form a part of
 
 158 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 our dream fabric, and often of our web of fancy. When 
 the constructive imagination is at work, thought scrutinizes 
 closely every new arrival in the throng of images. Only 
 those which comparison shows to be the most fit for the 
 purpose in hand are allowed to linger. The inventor never i 
 thinks harder than when he is comparing his images with! 
 each other and rejecting the unfit. Thought also enables 
 him to change an image in conformity to a certain plan. 
 
 The Constructive Imagination the Basis of Progress. 
 The products of the constructive imagination have been 
 the only stepping stones for material progress. The con- 
 structive imagination of primeval man, aided by thought, 
 began to conquer the world. When the winter's cold 
 came, the imagination pictured the skin of the animal 
 on the human body. Will power going out in action 
 merely made that image a reality. If the skin in its 
 natural state did not fit as well as the image indicated, the 
 skin was altered and fastened together until it did approxi- 
 mate to the image. The chimney, the stove, the stage- 
 coach, the locomotive, are successive milestones, showing 
 the progressive march of the imagination. 
 
 Materials at the Disposal of the Imagination. After 
 studying the constructive imagination, the student is likely 
 to have false impressions of its powers. The imagination 
 is always tied to the stake of perception by a cord of greatei 
 or less length. The imagination gets every particle of -its- 
 material from the senses. Let any one note the result 
 when he shuts his eyes and tries to imagine a new color. 
 The imagination is not a creative power, for it must have 
 materials to start with. The popular impression that the 
 imagination can create something out of nothing is utterly
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 
 
 erroneous. A disorderly pile of brick may be fashioned into 
 a house ; a shapeless mass of metal may be wrought into a 
 watch, an engine, a sewing machine, or a bicycle ; but none 
 of these can be constructed without the fitting raw material. 
 So it is with the imagination, which can transform the raw 
 material of the senses into wonderful forms, but the mate- 
 rial must be present at the start. The dreams of a person 
 blind from birth never embody a single image of sight. 
 
 The pages of literature verify these statements in a 
 striking way. The picture of Hell in Milton's Paradise 
 Lost is suggested by earthly sulphurous fires which are 
 enlarged and combined with other elements. Satan's 
 figure is constructed after the type of the human form; 
 his staff is larger than the colossal pine. The waves of 
 liquid fire might have been suggested by the ocean in a 
 storm. One of the finest elements in Milton's Eden is the 
 thornless rose, the product of the separating power of the 
 imagination. The twenty-first chapter of The Revelation 
 contains a grand picture of the Celestial City. We catch 
 glimpses of gold, jasper, pearl, sapphire, emerald, a crystal 
 fountain shaded by a tree whose leaves are ever green, but 
 we look in vain for elements new to earthly experience. 
 They are present simply on a vaster and grander scale, and 
 in new combinations. 
 
 Limits of Imagination. From what has already been 
 said, it follows that the imagination is limited in its work 
 ings. A man who has always been deaf will be debarred 
 from constructing images of sounds ; a blind man will have 
 no optical images to recombine and alter. The imagination^ 
 is limited much more narrowly than we often suppose, to \ 
 the territory of our own experience and to so much of that I 
 of others as we interpret in terms of our own.
 
 I6O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Almighty revealed to St. John a glimpse of things utterly 
 unlike anything on earth, man could never have under- 
 stood the description any better than the blind man, who 
 thought scarlet was like the sound of a trumpet, compre- 
 hended color. 
 
 The infinite cannot be imaged. Let any one project a 
 spherical image toward the zenith, with a radius of a mil- 
 lion miles. Let that radius be doubled, and the imagina- 
 tion can still project its image beyond. Let that radius be 
 squared, then raised to a power above the billionth until 
 the imagination is weary. We have not yet imaged the 
 infinite ; for common sense would ask : Can we not extend 
 this last image a foot or a mile beyond ? 
 
 Direction of the Imagination Determined by the Domi^ 
 jiant Perceptions. Since imagination must look to per- 
 ception for materials and suggestions, it follows that our 
 personal experience must determine the sphere of 
 our imaginative excellence. The Norseman painted his 
 heaven, Valhalla, from the suggestions of his own per- 
 sonal experience, which was mostly in the direction of 
 fighting and eating. Valhalla was an enormous palace 
 roofed with shields. Spears were the pillars which sup^> 
 ported the ceiling. The seats were cushioned with coats of 
 mail. The gleam of flashing swords warmed the hall. The 
 amusements consisted of eating and drinking and fighting. 
 A river of ale ran close by Valhalla. The heroes gorged 
 themselves on the flesh of a magic boar, which was 
 renewed every night They ate and drank until they 
 could hold no more, fell down upon the floor where they 
 had been feasting, were awakened in the morning by the 
 blast of a horn, then all grasped their weapons and rushed 
 out to the battlefield \11 day long they fought, putting
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. i6l 
 
 each other to sleep with the sword. At nightfall a magical 
 horn was blown, and e^ery hero's wounds were healed. 
 Then there was the mad rush for the river of ale and the 
 flesh of the boar. Had the Teuton been asked if there 
 were no other enjoyments, he would have wondered what 
 heaven could furnish more. 
 
 The Indian constructed his heaven out of the materials 
 of his own experience. Heaven was to him nothing but 
 happy hunting grounds, where the game never failed, and 
 where he should again have his dog, his bow and arrows, 
 and his wampum. To him, the Indian summer haze was 
 the smoke from the Great Spirit's peace pipe. 
 
 The novelist must know human beings in all their. 
 phases before he can write successfully. In whatever line - 
 we wish our imaginations to be successful, whether in '-* 
 building houses or bridges, constructing machinery or " 
 novejs, we must have experience in that special direction.^ 
 
 . -/ ! v -\ . . A X I f\ ' 
 
 ux 
 
 Imagination in Scientific Investigation. Results" in U r7 
 nature follow each other with comparative slowness. Even . 
 where experiment hastens them, the imagination must pre- 
 cede and suggest the new combinations for the experiment. 
 Before a bridge of thought is built connecting two facts, or 
 a cause with an effect, the imagination must first make the 
 connecting leap. We can never realize the connection of 
 two things, until we have first joined them in imagination. 
 All that thought does is to build a firm bridge in the path 
 thus marked out ; or thought may show that the imagina- 
 tion was mistaken, and call upon it to indicate another path. 
 Sir Benjamin Brodie, a former President of the Royal 
 Society, said to its members : " Physical investigation, 
 more than anything besides, helps to teach us the actual 
 value and right use of the imagination of that wondrous 
 
 HALLECK'S FSYC. II
 
 1 62 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 faculty, which, when left to ramble uncontrolled, leads us 
 astray into a wilderness of perplexities and errors, a land 
 of mists and shadows ; but which, properly controlled by 
 experience and reflection, becomes the noblest attribute of 
 man, the source of poetic genius, the instrument of dis- 
 covery in science, without the aid of which Newton would 
 never have invented fluxions nor Davy have decomposed 
 the earths and alkalies, nor would Columbus have found 
 another continent." 
 
 The great scientist Tyndall has said with equal truth : 
 " Philosophers may be right in affirming that we cannot 
 transcend experience ; but we can at all events carry it a 
 long way from its origin. We can also magnify, diminish, 
 qualify, and combine experiences, so as to render them fit 
 for purposes entirely, new. We are gifted with the power 
 of imagination, and by this power we can lighten the 
 darkness which surrounds the world of the senses. There 
 are tories, even in science, who regard imagination as a 
 faculty to be feared and avoided rather than employed. 
 They had observed its. action in weak vessels, and were 
 unduly impressed by its disasters. But they might with 
 equal truth point to exploded boilers as an argument 
 against the use of steam. Bounded and conditioned by 
 cooperant reason, imagination becomes the mightiest 
 instrument of the physical discoverer. Newton's passage 
 from a falling apple to a falling moon was, at the outset, a 
 leap of the imagination." 
 
 Unconscious Processes in Imagination. When we think 
 about a thing, or keep the mind full of a subject, the 
 activity in certain brain tracts is probably much increased. 
 As a result of this unconscious preparation, a full-fledged 
 image may suddenly rise in consciousness. In this way
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 163 
 
 dreams have resulted in the formation of remarkable 
 constructive images, which have helped an inventor to 
 complete his machine. Goethe says that he wrote the 
 Sorrows of Werther almost unconsciously, and afterward 
 marveled at the work. Antecedent brain preparation in- 
 volved in brooding over such subject matter helped the 
 spontaneous appearance of images. Auditory images fre- 
 quently whirl through the brain of a musician, even when 
 he is trying to be mentally passive. Professor Hoffding 
 says : " The interweaving of the elements of the picture 
 in the imagination takes place in great measure below the 
 threshold of consciousness, so that the image suddenly 
 emerges in consciousness complete in its broad outlines, 
 the conscious result of an unconscious process." The fact 
 should be emphasized, however, that this phenomenon 
 occurs only after the mind has been carefully considering 
 a certain subject. / X- 
 
 -i* 
 
 '/INFLUENCE OF THE IMAGINATION UPON THE BODY. 
 
 Strong Effects of Imagination. When a mental image 
 is taken for a reality, the most astonishing results often 
 follow ; indeed, sometimes they are more pronounced 
 than if the image were a reality. One can find many 
 illustrations of this in everyday life. 
 
 A member of a family purchased some perfectly fresh 
 meat, and it occurred to him that the dinner table would 
 afford a good opportunity of testing the power of the 
 imagination on the senses, so he remarked that he was 
 sorry he had not some Frenchmen as guests at dinner, 
 since the meat would have exactly suited them, as it was 
 so gamy and tender that it would not hang on the butcher's 
 hook. Several at once perceived an unmistakably putrid
 
 164 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 taste, and one member of the family, unable to endure the 
 odor, left the table. 
 
 A fussy man would, at breakfast, occasionally insist that 
 the cream was too sour for his oatmeal, and he made much 
 trouble in sending out for a fresh supply. Finally his wife 
 told the servant to keep some of the same cream outside, 
 and to bring that in whenever there were complaints, 
 with the assurance that it would prove fresh. The new 
 supply always seemed much better to the husband. 
 Tradesmen often take advantage of this power of the 
 imagination when they have a very particular customer, 
 and sell him precisely the same article at an advanced 
 \price. 
 
 Were it not for this power of the imagination, the 
 majority of quack nostrums would disappear. In most 
 cases bread pills, properly labeled, with positive assurances 
 of certain cure accompanying them, would answer the 
 purpose far better than these nostrums, or even much 
 better than a great deal of the medicine administered by 
 regular physicians. 
 
 Warts have been charmed away by medicines which 
 could have had only a mental effect. Dr. Tuke gives 
 many cases of patients cured of rheumatism by rubbing 
 them with a certain substance declared to possess magic 
 power. The material in some cases was metal ; in others, 
 wood ; in still others, wax. He also recites the case of 
 a very intelligent officer who had vainly taken power- 
 ful remedies to cure cramp in the stomach. Then "he 
 was told that on the next attack he would be put under 
 a medicine which was generally believed to be most effec- 
 tive, but which was rarely used." When the cramps came 
 on again, "a powder containing four grains of ground 
 biscuit was administered every seven minutes, wnile the
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 165 
 
 greatest anxiety was expressed (within the hearing of the 
 party) lest too much should be given. Half-drachm doses 
 of bismuth had never procured the same relief in less than 
 three hours. For four successive times did the same kind 
 of attack recur, and four times was it met by the same 
 remedy, and with like success." 
 
 A house surgeon in a French hospital experimented with 
 one hundred patients, giving them sugared water. Then, 
 with a great show of fear, he pretended that he had 
 made a mistake and given them an emetic instead of the 
 proper medicine. Dr. Tuke says : " The result may easily 
 be anticipated by those who can estimate the influence of \J 
 the imagination. No fewer than eighty four fifths 
 were unmistakably sick." 
 
 We have a well authenticated case of a butcher, who, 
 while trying to hang up a heavy piece of meat, slipped and 
 was himself caught by the arm upon the hook. When he 
 
 as taken to a surgeon, the butcher said he was suffering 
 so much that he could not endure the removal of his coat ; 
 the sleeve must be cut off. When this was done, it was 
 found that the hook had passed through his clothing close to 
 
 e skin, but had not even scratched it. 
 
 A man sentenced to be bled to death was blindfolded. 
 A harmless incision was then made in his arm and tepid 
 water fixed so as to run down it and drop with considerable 
 noise into a basin. The attendants frequently commented 
 on the flow of blood and the weakening pulse. The crimi- 
 nal's false idea of what was taking place was as powerful 
 in its effects as the reality, and he soon died. 
 ' "Many persons make the mistake of thinking that theh> 
 ; imagination will never run away with them, that whatever 
 is said on this subject applies only to other people. This 
 class is generally the most sensitive to imaginative influ-
 
 1 66 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ence While persons differ, it should be remembered that 
 none are exempt from the physical effects of imagination, 
 neither the learned nor the ignorant. There is perhaps 
 not a person living who would not at times be benefited by 
 a bread pill, administered by some one in whom great con- 
 fidence was reposed. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 
 
 Imagination a Practical Power. It was once thought 
 that the imagination should be repressed, not cultivated, 
 that it was in the human mind like weeds in a garden. 
 We have already learned enough to know that the 
 reverse is the truth. In this age there is no mental"] 
 power that stands more in need of cultivation than_the 1 
 .imagination. So practical are its results that a man with- 
 out it cannot possibly be a good plumber. He must image 
 short cuts for placing his pipe. The image of the direction 
 to take to elude an obstacle must precede the actual laying 
 of the pipe. If he fixes it before traversing the way with 
 his imagination, he frequently gets into trouble and has to 
 tear down his work. Some one has said that the more 
 imagination a blacksmith has, the better will he shoe a 
 horse. Every time he strikes the red-hot iron, he makes it 
 approximate to the image in his mind. Nor is this image 
 a literal copy of the horse's foot. If there is a depression 
 in that, the imagination must build out a corresponding 
 elevation in the image, and the blows must make the iron 
 fit the image. 
 
 Necessity of Abundant Perceptional Material. Since 
 the imagination has not the miraculous power necessary to 
 create something out of nothing, the first essential thing
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 16; 
 
 is to get the proper perceptional material in sufficient 
 quantity. If a child has enough blocks, he can build "a 1 
 castle or a palace. Give him but three blocks, and his 
 power of combination is painfully limited. Some persons 
 wonder why their imaginative power is no greater, when 
 they have only a few accurate ideas. 
 
 By perceptional material we mean not only that knowl- 
 edge which we get from the use of our own senses, but 
 also all information coming to us from the perceptions of 
 other people. An Eskimo will never have an adequate 
 image of the luxuriance of tropical scenery so long as he 
 remains within the polar circle ; but he can have far bet- 
 ter imaginative realization of such scenery after reading 
 a vivid description by an eye witness. Even then he must 
 interpret all that he reads in terms of the scanty shrubbery 
 with which he is familiar, and his best imaginative picture 
 of tropical foliage will be meager and dwarfed. Imagination 
 .always builds on the suggestions pf our own experience. 
 
 The successful novelist must move among human beings 
 and study, at first hand, as many types as possible. Not 
 until then will his imagination have the necessary material 
 wherewith to work. The Israelites justly complained that 
 they could not make brick without straw. The accumula- 
 tion of the necessary material is no mean preliminary to 
 building a palace of novel architecture. Perception must 
 sow seed in the soil of memory before a harvest can appeal 
 under the guise of constructive imagination and of thought. 
 The person who wishes to begin with the cultivation of 
 the imagination is like the man who looked for a harvest 
 where he had sown no seed. 
 
 The Materials at Hand for Cultivating Imagination. 
 Raw materials of the finest order for the culture of the
 
 1 68 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 imagination are found in the lives of almost all. We may 
 instance the autumnal leaves with their glorious coloring, 
 the wild flowers, the waving fields of grain, the play of 
 lights and shadows in the forests, meadows filled with 
 clover and daisies, orchards blossoming against the delicate 
 spring sky, the singing birds, the clouds painted by the 
 setting sun, the fantastic silver tops of the thunder clouds, 
 the drapery of mist about the mountain side or shifting 
 over the valley, the Milky Way, 
 
 " A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, 
 And pavement stars," 
 
 the constellation Orion followed by Canis Major in their 
 majestic hunt through the heavens, the Bear, monarch 
 of the northern heavens, the Pleiades, human faces with 
 their changing expression. If he has eyes to see them, 
 the life of the meanest has more materials than we have 
 space to mention. We must not suppose that it takes 
 uncommon materials with which to cultivate the imagina- 
 tion. To most persons there could be nothing more pro- 
 saic than getting up at two o'clock in the morning to take 
 a train. What room is there for imagination in such an 
 action ? Let those who would ask, read the following 
 description by Edward Everett : 
 
 "I had occasion, a few weeks since, to take the early train from 
 Providence to Boston, and for this purpose rose at two o'clock in the 
 morning. Everything around was wrapped in darkness and hushed 
 in silence, broken only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly 
 clank and rush of the train. It was a mild, serene, midsummer's 
 night, the winds were whist. The moon, then in her last quarter, 
 had just risen, and the stars shone with a spectral luster but little 
 affected by her presence. Jupiter, two hours high, was the herald of 
 the day ; the Pleiades, just above the horizon, shed their sweet influ-
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 169 
 
 ence In the east. . . . Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered 
 the train. As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became 
 more perceptible ; the intense blue of the sky began to soften ; the 
 smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest ; the sister beams of 
 the Pleiades soon melted together ; but the bright constellations of the 
 west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the wondrous trans- 
 figuration went on. Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, 
 shifted the scenery of the heavens ; the glories of night dissolved into 
 the glories of the dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly 
 gray ; the great watch stars shut up their holy eyes ; the east began 
 to kindle." 
 
 If Edward Everett had not known the constellations 
 apart, and some of the myths connected with them, he 
 could not have given us this highly imaginative account of 
 what he saw on that morning. Hjg imagination joined 
 past knowledge to present perception. The less present 
 perception one can use, the greater must be his store of 
 accumulated knowledge in order to produce any really fine 
 work of the imagination. 
 
 Clear-cut Images. Th^formatiori _ol accurate images 
 is. essential to the right culture of the imagination. A 
 good house cannot be built out of shapeless brick. The 
 use of words without definite corresponding images is fatal 
 to imagination. If we study any branch of science without 
 representing to ourselves by imaginative power the mean- 
 ings of the various terms, our time is somewhat more than 
 wasted, for we are forming a bad habit. Molecular vibra- 
 tions, tension of the ether, undulations of varying ampli- 
 tude and length, valves of the heart, stamens, peltate 
 leaves, Gothic arches, these are terms which should 
 never be used without the ability to form sharp images 
 in each case. A person who had been talking about 
 defective flues as causes of fires, was asked to state plainly
 
 I/O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 what he meant by a "defective flue." It was then seen 
 that he had no clear image corresponding to the term, 
 which was simply a mask for ignorance. Persons who 
 allow themselves to use terms in this way must not expect 
 to have much imaginative power. 
 
 Pictorial Interpretation Cultivates the Imagination. 
 
 Whenever we do not acquire facts at first hand, we should 
 always endeavor to translate them into images. Knowledge 
 will never become vivid until we have done this. Suppose 
 we cannot go to Greenland, India, or Japan, yet we can 
 derive great benefit from reading works of travel, if, as 
 we read, we construct pictures of the inhabitants, build- 
 ings, animals, and natural features. Geography, if taught 
 aright, is an excellent study for cultivating the imagina- 
 tion. If rivers, capes, sounds, and isthmuses, the tropics 
 and the polar regions with their natural products, are 
 imaginatively realized, this power is cultivated in the 
 right way. 
 
 One reason why historic facts make such an evanescent 
 impression is because they are not translated into mental 
 images. To most persons, William the Conqueror, Ed- 
 ward the First, Oliver Cromwell, the Chaucerian and the 
 Elizabethan Age are little more than names. Realized 
 knowledge is knowledge imaginatively represented. 
 
 Culture of the Imagination by Oral Description. A per- 
 son learns to do things best by throwing himself on his 
 own resources. An attempt at a clear-cut oral description 
 of something to another person will often deeply impress 
 ourselves and him with the fact that our mental images are 
 hazy, and that the first step towards better description con- 
 sists in improving them.
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 171 
 
 Every tjflyc yfi tff^ a story.clearly sn as to impress the 
 details on the mind of others, every time we describe a 
 place or a landscape vividly, ev^y time we relate what 
 we have read in a book of travels so as to arouse definite 
 images in the minds of our hearers, ^-we_are cultivating 
 ouj. imagination. It is excellent training for a person 
 to attempt to describe to others a meadow, a grove, an 
 orchard, the course of a brook, the sky at sunrise, the 
 starry heavens. If his description is not heavy, like un- 
 leavened bread, the liveliness will be due to the activity 
 his i 
 
 Culture of the Constructive Imagination by Writing. 
 As soon as knowledge is acquired, it should be used in 
 as many different combinations as possible. No one should 
 gather a mass of materials without attempting original com- 
 position. Above all, every person should write something 
 imaginative, not necessarily for publication, but as a matter 
 of cultivation. He may write a description of a place, a 
 mountain, a landscape, a forest, a storm, the ocean, the 
 heavens ; he may write a short story, give a prophetic 
 picture of what science will ultimately accomplish, graph- 
 ically describe the appearance and life of the earth in the 
 carboniferous age, give an account of a day with paleo- 
 lithic man, or picture a mediaeval tournament. The writ- 
 ing of poetry furnishes the finest imaginative exercise. 
 When Burns saw his plowshare turning under a moun- 
 tain daisy, his imagination at once began to work, and he 
 gave the world an exquisite little poem. Charles Kingsley 
 never did a better thing for his children than when he 
 wrote Greek Heroes, to fire their imagination with pictures 
 from Grecian mythology. 
 
 Forecasting the plot of a partially read novel, or com-
 
 172 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 pleting an unfinished story is excellent practice. Here, 
 one is thrown entirely upon his imagination. For ex- 
 anjfjfe: 
 
 In ancient Greece a man was riding his horse along a 
 mountain road after nightfall. Suddenly the animal obsti- 
 nately stopped. The rider thrice, with oaths, plunged the 
 spurs into the horse, the last time wounding him deeply. 
 That instant a flash of lightning revealed a fathomless 
 precipice under the horse's nostrils. The next flash 
 showed the animal the road, and the faithful beast imme- 
 diately sought it and carried his master home. 
 
 In the master's village there was a temple dedicated to 
 the gods. In one end of this, on a level with the ground, 
 there was a room whose door always stood ajar. This was 
 called the room of Justice ; and it was intended for the 
 fugitive, the wronged, or any one who feared injustice. 
 When the door was opened wide, it rang a loud bell in the 
 room of the minister of Justice, whose duty it was to come 
 immediately to inquire into the merits of the case. 
 
 Fifteen years had passed since the night when the mas- 
 ter rode his faithful steed across the mountains. The 
 horse was old and lame, and unable to carry his master 
 longer. One stormy day, toward nightfall, the master 
 drove the horse out of the stable and fastened the door, 
 saying, "Away, you worthless beast, you shall never again 
 enjoy my shelter or eat my grain ! " 
 
 Darkness came on ; the storm increased. The old horse 
 wandered around, seeking shelter. Finally he came to 
 the temple; and, seeing a door ajar, he pushed it open 
 and entered the room of Justice. . . . 
 
 Let a vivid pen picture of the appearance of the master, 
 his every feature, be drawn first, then let the living steed 
 be described. With your own feelings as a suggestion,
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 173 
 
 describe what passed in the mind of the horse on the 
 mountain road, and fifteen years later at nightfall when he 
 was driven from his stable into the storm. Describe the 
 appearance of the jnirjjpter of Justify* 
 
 conclusio" <-ft the s^ r y, After a conscientious trial at 
 this, your imagination will be stronger than before. It 
 will not be long before analogous cases begin to present 
 themselves, perhaps of the way in whik-ehildrcn some- 
 times treat their old parepts. -f^f> ' 
 
 Comparative Value of Following Another's Imagination 
 and Constructing Original Images. Much reading will 
 not cultivate our constructive imaginations if we always 
 keep tied to the apron strings of the images of other 
 people. If we let another do all the lifting for us, and 
 take all the exercise, we shall get no muscular develop- 
 ment. If we take all our images ready made from other 
 people, we shall never have much imaginative power. 
 Critics generally find the source of the plots of Shake- 
 spearian plays ; but the source is as unlike the finished 
 play as the caterpillar is different^ from the butterfly. It 
 has been said that Shakespeare breathes into a dead tale 
 a creator's breath of life. " I have no imagination," is a 
 common remark from persons who have, so to speak, kept 
 their imaginations in a sling, like a broken arm. 
 
 We should note the difference of energy required in 
 interpreting a ready-made picture and in constructing an 
 original one. We read Milton's description of Eden, 
 and perhaps form interpretive pictures to correspond in a 
 measure to the description. Let us apply the test by clos- 
 ing the book and constructing an original picture of an 
 ideal landscape, as perfect in the number and proportion 
 of elements as it is possible for our imagination to depict
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Now we have genuine imaginative effort, an effort which 
 some people have never experienced. 
 
 Coleridge, in The Ancient Mariner, imaginatively inter- 
 prets for us the sound made by the sails of the ship : 
 
 "... The sails made on 
 
 A pleasant noise till noon, 
 A noise like of a hidden brook 
 
 In the leafy month of June, 
 That to the sleeping woods all night 
 
 Singeth a quiet tune." 
 
 f 
 
 Let us try to give a different imaginative interpretation 
 to the sound, and we shall again notice the difference in 
 effort in having some one direct our imagination and in 
 marking out an original path. 
 
 No other age has equaled the Elizabethan in imagina- 
 tive work. This was only partially due to the flood of new 
 material that poured in from the expansion of the known 
 world, through the discoveries of the great navigators, 
 and made the wildest dream seem capable of realization. 
 The Elizabethans used their imaginations on these mate- 
 rials and exerted themselves to a degree to which we are 
 strangers. When the people of that age went to see 
 Hamlet, Macbeth, A Midsummer Night's Dream, or As You 
 Like It, they had to employ in every scene all the active 
 imagination of which they were capable. If the scene 
 changed to a different part of the world, a placard bearing 
 the words, Rome, Venice, London, or The Forest of Arden, 
 announced the fact. If there seemed to the spectators to j 
 be any change, it was due to the fact that their imaginations 
 projected a new picture upon the stage. To-day we have 
 every accessory of scenery and stage effect to supply what 
 the imagination ought to be required to body forth. Lack 
 of pyerciag enfeebles anv POWCT. /- ,
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 175 
 
 Thinking by Images. Professor Wundt expresses one 
 side of an important truth when he says : "Imagination is, 
 in reality, a thinking in particular sense ideas. As such, it 
 is the source of all logical or conceptual thought." THe 
 man who does not think by images will never be a clear 
 thinker, and those are to be pitied who are compelled to 
 follow him. Tyndall has labored to make this point pluill ' 
 and to show the importance of the imagination in all scien- 
 tific thought. He says : " How, for example, are we to lay 
 hold of the physical basis of light, since like that of life 
 itself, it lies entirely without the domain of the senses ? 
 . . . Bring your imaginations once more into play and fig- 
 ure a series of sound waves passing through air. Follow 
 them up to their origin, and what do you there find ? A 
 definite, tangible, vibrating body. It may be the vocal 
 chords of a human being, it may be an organ-pipe, or it 
 may be a stretched string. Follow in the same manner a 
 train of ether waves to their source, remembering at the 
 same time that your ether is matter, dense, elastic, and 
 capable of motions subject to and determined by mechani- 
 cal laws. What then do you expect to find as the source 
 of a series of ether waves ? Ask your imagination if it 
 will accept a vibrating multiple proportion a numerical 
 ratio in a state of oscillation ? I do not think it will. You 
 cannot crown the edifice by this abstraction. The scien- 
 tific imagination which is here authoritative, demands as 
 the origin and cause of a series of ether waves a particle 
 of vibrating matter quite as definite, though it may be ex- 
 cessively minute, as that which gives origin to a musical 
 sound. Such a particle we name an atom or a molecule. I 
 think the seeking intellect, when focused so as to give 
 definition without penumbral haze, is sure to realize this 
 image at the last. . . . The waves generated in the ether
 
 1/6 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 by the swinging atoms of luminous bodies are of different 
 lengths and amplitudes. The amplitude is the width of 
 swing of the individual particles of the wave. In water 
 waves it is the height of the crest above the trough, while 
 the length of the wave is the distance between two consec- 
 utive crests." 
 
 Many persons glibly discuss hypotheses without having 
 thought them out to their source by the aid of images, and 
 hence without a clear idea as to whither the theory tends. 
 In the same way as in the case of sound and light, Tyndall 
 translates the evolution hypothesis into the most definite 
 images of which it is capable. He says : " Not alone the 
 more ignoble forms of animalcular or animal life, not alone 
 the nobler forms of the horse and lion, not alone the 
 exquisite and wonderful mechanism of the human body, 
 but the human mind itself emotion, intellect, will, and 
 all their phenomena were once latent in a fiery cloud. 
 . . . All our philosophy, all our poetry, all our science, 
 and all our art Plato, Shakespeare, Newton, and Raphael 
 are potential in the fires of the sun." One can reject 
 or accept such a hypothesis much more intelligently after 
 he has resolved the nebula into its potential images. 
 
 The Formation of an Ideal. This necessary product of 
 the imagination gives excellent culture. The young take 
 no more important step than when they frame an ideal 
 which they will ever strive to attain. The first step con- 
 sists in studying the lives of illustrious men, to ascertain 
 what constitutes a noble and glorious life, to see how ob- 
 stacles are surmounted, how eminence is gained. The 
 next step is to select the most worthy attributes and to 
 embody them in an ideal which is peculiarly fitted to the 
 constructor. Each one may thus construct for himself a
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 177 
 
 life chart as an ideal. Something is to be learned from 
 the life of every great man. Thus, an ideal may embody 
 the energy of a Napoleon ; the integrity and patriotism of 
 a Washington; the iron will of a Cromwell; the sympathy 
 with humanity of a Howard, a Clarkson, or of a greater 
 One ; the ambition of a Newton or a Franklin to discover 
 new laws ; the inventive genius of a Watts, a Morse, or 
 an Edison; the determination of a blind Milton to leave 
 behind something worthy of himself, which posterity would 
 not willingly let die. 
 
 The youth who has not had his imagination fired by 
 great deeds will not amount to much. Each must fashion 
 for himself an ideal which he is determined to attain. 
 Emerson's expression, " Hitch your wagon to a star," 
 meant simply this. The imagination of the youthful 
 Napoleon was animated by reading the deeds of great 
 generals, and he early formed the ideal of doing more in 
 the military field than had ever before been accomplished. 
 
 Imagination and Sympathy. It is just beginning to be 
 clearly understood that unimaginative people cannot be 
 sympathetic. In order to sympathize truly with another in 
 fortune, misfortune, or suffering of any kind, we must, from 
 the suggestions of our experience, imagine ourselves in his 
 place. The experience of two persons is never exactly 
 the same. In order to sympathize with the other, the one 
 must, perhaps from very slight suggestions in his own ex- 
 perience, and by an effort of the constructive imagination, 
 put himself in the other's place. Persons of undoubted 
 capacity for feeling are frequently unsympathetic and 
 undesirable to live with, merely because imagination 
 seldom unlocks the door to feeling. It is not enough 
 for a thirsty traveler that there is water at the bottom 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 12
 
 f/8 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 of a deep well ; there must be means of drawing that 
 water. 
 
 Nor is it enough that a person has strong emotional 
 tendencies in the direction of sympathy; there must be 
 some means of drawing from that emotional fountain. 
 Imagination can furnish the means. If one would sym- 
 pathize with the sick and suffering poor, he must first go 
 among them ; then his imagination will fit the materials of 
 perception to his own case. A child can rarely sympathize 
 deeply with old people, because he has had little commu- 
 nity of experience with them. On the other hand, imagi- 
 native old people can sympathize deeply with him, although 
 their disappointments and pleasures may have been only 
 remotely akin to his. 
 
 ^N ^ 
 
 Abuse of the Imagination. From its very nature the 
 imagination is peculiarly liable to abuse. The common 
 practices of daydreaming or castle-building are both 
 morally and physically unhealthful. We reach actual suc- 
 cess in life by slow, weary steps. The daydreamer attains 
 .eminence with one bound. He is without trouble a vic- 
 torious general on a vast battlefield, an orator swaying 
 thousands, a millionaire with every amusement at his 
 command, a learned man confounding the wisest, a presi- 
 dent, an emperor, or a czar. After reveling in these 
 imaginative sweets, the dry bread of actual toil becomes 
 exceedingly distasteful. It is so much easier to live in 
 regions where everything comes at the stroke of the 
 magic wand of fancy. Not infrequently these castle- 
 builders abandon effort in an actual world. Success comes 
 too slow for them. They become speculators or gamblers, 
 and, in spite of all their grand castles, gradually sink into 
 utter nonentities in the world of action.
 
 THE IMAGINATION AND ITS CULTURE. 179 
 
 The reading of too much fiction is dangerous. The 
 impossible stories that have been sown broadcast over the 
 land have wrecked many a young life. From their teach- 
 ing, young persons have imagined that they could dream 
 themselves into success. It has been well said that even 
 novels of the better class are sweets, and should form no 
 greater proportion of our reading than do sweets of our 
 diet. The young should never allow themselves to build 
 any imaginative castle, unless they are willing by hard 
 effort to try to make that castle a reality. They must be 
 willing to take off their coats, go into the quarries of life, 
 chisel out the blocks of stone, and build them with much 
 toil into the castle walls. If castle-building is merely the 
 formation of an ideal, which we show by our effort that we 
 are determined to attain, then all will be well 

 
 \ 
 
 The Power of Thought. The human mind can perceive, 
 remember, and imagine. Fortunately, it can also think. 
 What is it to think ? To think is to compare things with 
 each other, to notice wherein they agree and differ, and to 
 classify them according to these agreements and differences. 
 It enables us to put into a few classes the billions of things 
 that strike our perceptive faculties ; to tie things with like 
 qualities into a bundle by themselves, and to infer that 
 what is true of one of these things will be true of the 
 others without actual experience in each individual case ; 
 and to introduce law and order into what at first seemed a 
 mass of chaotic materials. 
 
 We might suppose a man to be created full grown at 
 birth, and to be placed on a new planet. If he touched a 
 bee and was stung, he would be apt to remember the 
 appearance of the insect. When he saw another insect, he 
 would be likely to compare it with his mental image of the 
 bee. If he noticed a resemblance and avoided the insect, 
 he would think. If he noticed the difference between bees 
 and flies and concluded that it was not necessary for him 
 to be so careful about disturbing flies, he would have carried 
 the thought process still further. If a man had no power 
 of thought, being stung once would not answer ; he might 
 rush into a swarm of bees and be blinded or killed. It is 
 
 i So
 
 THOUGHT. l8l 
 
 by thinking that men have learned to avoid poison ivy, 
 centipedes, snakes, late hours, foul air, dissipated habits. 
 
 is rnnsf-anf-ly iicing hfr pnwpr tr> kill off-tbe- t-hought- 
 
 less, or to cripple them in liff't T7T She is determined 
 
 that only the fittest and the descendants of the fittest shall 
 survive. By the " fittest " she means those who have 
 thought and whose ancestors have thought and profited 
 _thereby. 
 
 Geologists tell us that ages ago there lived in England 
 bears, tigers, elephants, lions, and many other powerful 
 and fierce animals. There was living contemporaneous 
 with them a much weaker animal, that had neither the 
 claws, the strength, nor the speed of the tiger. In fact 
 this human animal was almost defenseless. Had a being 
 from another planet been asked to prophesy, he would 
 undoubtedly have said that this helpless animal would be 
 the first to be exterminated. And yet every one of those 
 fierce creatures has succumbed either to the change of 
 climate, or to man's inferior strength. The reason was that 
 manjiad one resource denied to the animals, the power pf 
 progressive- .thought The land sank, the sea cut off Eng- 
 land from 'the mainland, the climate changed, and even the 
 strongest animals were helpless. But man changed his 
 clothing with the changing climate. He made fires ; he 
 built a retreat to keep off death by cold. He thought out 
 means to kill or to subdue the strongest animals. 
 
 Had the lions, tigers, or bears possessed the power of 
 progressive thought, they could have combined, and it 
 would have been possible for them to exterminate man 
 before he reached the civilized stage. The swallow builds 
 her nest now as she built it a thousand years ago. The 
 beaver has not improved in the construction of his home. 
 Man no longer sleeps in caves. The smoke no longer fills
 
 1 82 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 his home or finds its way out through the chinks in the 
 walls or a hole in the roof. In traveling, he is no longer 
 restricted to his feet or even to horses. For all this 
 improvement man is indebted to thought. That has har- 
 nessed the very vibrations of the ether to do his bidding. 
 
 The Thinking Power Active from the First. It was 
 formerly supposed that human beings did not think early 
 in life ; that then they perceived and remembered ; that 
 after they had seen and treasured up a great deal, they be- 
 gan to think. These processes were considered to be as 
 sharply marked off from each other as the Dead Sea and 
 the ocean. We now know that n.o..one caaperceive without 
 tJiinldng_at-th^5ameJirne. In perceiving a complex object, 
 such as a house, a ship, or a tree, we are constantly divid- 
 ing it into parts and discriminating between them. We 
 discriminate between the doors ancl the chimneys, the 
 leaves and the branches, the sails and the masts. If we 
 perceive any simple thing definitely, e.g. a bird perched on 
 a post, we must distinguish between the bird and the post, 
 or between the bird and other things, or we do not really 
 perceive the bird. 
 
 Again, in remembering, we must think, in order to dis- 
 criminate between different mental images. If we are 
 asked to describe two fine houses on opposite corners of 
 an avenue, we must summon the images and compare them. 
 One house has a bay window, the other none. If we mis- 
 took the image of one thing for another, our memories 
 would be worthy of no trust. This power of discrimina- 
 tion is due to thought. An educated person in recalling 
 the Latin words annus and servus, or the German word 
 Baunty is apt to recall and compare the English words 
 annual, servile, beam.
 
 THOUGHT. 
 
 I8 3 
 
 In imaginative productions that amount to anything, 
 thought must work vigorously. When the sculptor starts 
 to chisel out a statue of Hebe or Venus, he must continually 
 consider the relations of the different, parts to each other. 
 One arm must correspond in size and length to the other. 
 The features must be in harmony. There must be a certain 
 correspondence between the statue and an actual woman. 
 Thought is called in at every step in order to make com- 
 parisons. When a bridge is to be built, the imagination in 
 throwing it across the chasm must be guided by thought, 
 which declares what is possible. The same is true in the 
 case of an inventor. 
 
 On the other hand, it must be remembered that thought^ 
 is the lat of the menial- powers to come to its full matur- 
 ity. Memory often shows undoubted signs of failing vigor, 
 while thought is still advancing in strength. __J 
 
 I. THE CONCEPT. 
 
 First Step in Thinking. In describing the various 
 steps leading to a finished product of thought, we must 
 remember that they are not sharply defined in actual think- 
 ing. In order to get a clear idea of the thought process, 
 and avoid confusion, we are compelled to separate certain 
 elements for study. We do the same thing in studying 
 trees, plants, insects, architecture, or any form of matter. 
 A concept is formed in the following manner : 
 (i) There must first be presentation of materials. Sup- 
 pose we wish to form the concept fruit. We must first 
 perceive the different kinds of fruit, cherry, pear, quince, 
 plum, currant, apple, fig, orange, etc. Before we can take 
 the next step, we must be able to form distinct and accurate 
 images of the various kinds of fruit. If the concept is to be
 
 1 84 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 absolutely accurate, not one kind of fruit must be oven 
 looked. Practically, this is impossible ; but many kinds 
 should be examined. Where perception is inaccurate and 
 stinted, the products of thought cannot be trustworthy. 
 No building is firm if reared on insecure foundations. 
 
 (2) The second step consists in comparing different indi- 
 viduals and in noting wherein they agree or differ. For 
 instance, in the case of the currant and the gooseberry, 
 we must compare their flavor, size, appearance, manner of 
 growth, seeds. We may next compare the strawberry 
 with the blackberry, the pear with the peach, the grape 
 with the plum. We shall in this way have the likenesses 
 and differences brought out vividly. 
 
 (3) The process of abstraction must next be employed. 
 Fruits have many confusing qualities of size, color, shape, 
 seed, skin, etc. We do not wish to have size enter into 
 our general idea or concept of fruit, so we abstract (ab, 
 away from ; traho, draw) size, color, etc., since these 
 qualities differ so vastly in different fruits. The currant 
 and the lemon, the grape and the peach, have little in 
 common in regard to either size or color. We abstract 
 or draw off all qualities not common to the class under 
 consideration, since the concept must be made up of 
 common qualities. By abstraction we also draw off the 
 like qualities by themselves for consideration. In the' 
 case of fruit, the juiciness and nutritive properties, for 
 instance, would be retained, together with the distinctive 
 properties of production from a flower and of containing 
 seed. In the process of abstraction, we draw our attention 
 away from a mass of confusing details, unimportant at the 
 time, and attend only to qualities common to the class. 
 Abstraction is little else than centering the power of 
 attention on some qualities to the exclusion of others.
 
 THOUGHT. I8C 
 
 v 3 
 
 (4) The next step is generalization. We put all objects 
 having like qualities into a certain genus, or class. When 
 the objects are in* that class, we know that certain qualities 
 will have general application to them all. We thus know 
 that all fruits will have certain common qualities, which at 
 once mark them off from the mineral or the animal kingdom 
 and from other vegetable products. 
 
 (5) Lastly, we affix a name to the class. This is called 
 denomination, or marking off by a name. The name is 
 analogous to a string which ties together a number of 
 things ; or it is like a druggist's label, which enables him 
 to tell at a glance what each bottle contains. We use 
 the names like the algebraic symbols x and y. We are 
 thus able to reason with great rapidity, and to have a 
 greater number of concepts pass more quickly before the 
 field of our mental vision. By algebraic formulas we can 
 solve problems, which it would be impossible for us to carry 
 in our heads or solve without the aid of symbols. Words 
 stand in the same relation to thought. 
 
 Method of Forming Concepts in Actual Life. A child 
 sees a certain object frequently and hears the term " man " 
 applied to it. The child will first form its concept on an 
 insufficient foundation of perception. If the men that he 
 sees in his own home all have beards, the child will think 
 that having whiskers or a moustache is a quality necessary 
 to man, and the concept will include that. Should the 
 7 child at first see only red-haired men six feet tall, those 
 qualities would go into the concept man. As acquaintance 
 with human beings extended, the child would abstract the 
 beard, color of hair, and height fromx the concept. In 
 comparing a smooth-faced man, a shorn; 'man, a tall man, a 
 red-haired and a white-haired man, the child would soon-..
 
 1 86 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 notice a sufficient number of common qualities to put all 
 in one class. 
 
 A certain Norwegian child ten years old had the quality 
 white, firmly imbedded in his concept man. Happening 
 one day to see a negro for the first time, the child refused 
 to call him a man, until the negro's other qualities com- 
 pelled the child to revise his concept and to eliminate white- 
 ness. If that child should ever see an Indian or a China- 
 man, the concept would undergo still further revision. A 
 girl of six, reared with an intemperate father and brothers, 
 had the quality of drunkenness firmly fixed in her concept 
 of man. A certain boy kept, until the age of eleven, trust- 
 worthiness in his concept of man. Another boy, until late 
 in his teens, thought that man was a creature who did 
 wrong not from determination but from ignorance ; that 
 any man would change his course to the right path, if he 
 could only understand that he was going wrong. Happen- 
 ing one day to hear of a wealthy man who was neglecting 
 to provide comforts for his aged mother in her last sick- 
 ness, the boy concluded that the man did not know the 
 mother's condition. When he informed the man, the boy 
 was told to mind his own business. The same day he 
 heard of some politicians who had intentionally cheated 
 the city in letting a contract, and he immediately revised 
 his concept. 
 
 It must be borne in mind that the most of our con- 
 cepts are subject to change during our entire life; that 
 at first they are made only in a tentative way ; that expe- 
 rience may show us, at any time, that they have been 
 erroneously formed, that we have abstracted too little 
 or too much, made the class too wide or too narrow, 
 or that here a quality must be added or there one taken 
 
 OJ 
 
 O&AL}
 
 THOUGHT. 187 
 
 Difference between a Concept and an Image. It is 
 
 always difficult for those who have paid little attention 
 to mental processes, to understand, at first, why an image 
 cannot be formed of a concept. An irnag'* possesses the 
 fmalffifiS and f^Mlinriti^R of a" iy "UlidiiiL^hifr** If a 
 certain man has an aquiline nose, black hair, bushy eye- 
 brows, and a scar on his cheek, all these peculiarities 
 must appear when memory recalls an image of him. It 
 is impossible to image anything without giving that image 
 individual marks. 
 
 The best mental images are so definite that a picture 
 could be painted from them. A being might come under 
 the class man and have a snub nose, blonde hair, scanty 
 eyebrows, and no scar on his face. The presence of one 
 of these individual peculiarities in the concept man would 
 destroy it. If we form an image of an apple, it must be 
 either of a yellow, red, green, or russet apple, either as 
 large as a pippin or as small as a crab apple. A boy was 
 asked what he thought of when " apple " was mentioned. 
 He replied that he thought of "a big, dark-red apple with 
 a bad spot on one side, near the top." That boy could 
 image distinctly, but his power of forming concepts was 
 still in its infancy. 
 
 ^An image must contain the individual qualities of an 
 object ; a concept must embody only those qualities com- 
 mon to the entire class. We may put in our concept man 
 the qualities of progressive reasoning, of being able to 
 improve his condition from age to age, of using a highly 
 developed language, of mastering nature to an extent 
 equaled by no other animal. These qualities are a mark 
 of the entire class, while a brown eye or a large mouth are 
 marks of certain individuals only. 
 
 We should in all cases be ready to translate our con-
 
 1 88 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 cepts, when occasion requires, into the images of those 
 individuals which the concept represents. A concept 
 means nothing except in reference to certain individu- 
 als. Without them, it could never have had existence, and 
 they are entitled to representation. ^A_man whn rannoj 
 tran44ftte bls^rnnrepts into (jefinifp imagp^ of fhp prnppr 
 abjeets-isjrtted neither to teach, preach, nor practice any 
 profession. fTp-^hmTlfj^wa^fp a<t li<-i-1p_as_possible of the 
 tim' :> - t 4-hiR follow m^rtnln in talking ^ -Kf>.m There was, 
 not long ago, a man very fond of talking about fruit in 
 the abstract ; but he failed to recognize an individual cran- 
 berry when it was shown him. A humorist remarked that 
 a certain metaphysician had such love for abstractions, and 
 such intense dislike for concrete things, as to refuse to 
 eat a concrete peach when placed before him. A person 
 should not talk about historic chivalry in the abstract 
 unless he can describe in the concrete the figures and 
 armor of the knights, their castles, and their habits in 
 peace and in war. 
 
 Abstract Ideas. While we are forming concepts, we 
 abstract or draw off certain qualities, either to leave them 
 out of view or to consider them by themselves. Our dic- 
 tionaries contain such words as purity, sweetness, white- 
 ness, industry, courage. No one ever touched, tasted, 
 smelled, heard, or saw purity or courage. We do not, 
 therefore, gain our knowledge of those through the senses. 
 We have seen pure persons, pure snow, pure honey ; we 
 have breathed pure air, tasted pure coffee. From all these 
 different objects we have abstracted the only like quality, 
 the quality of being pure. We then say we have an idea 
 of purity, and that idea is an abstract one. It exists only 
 in and for the mind which formed it. No one ever saw
 
 ^ 
 
 iSjo- \3Uic<iO 
 
 THOUGHT. 189 
 
 whiteness. He may have seen white clouds, snow, cloth, 
 blossoms, houses, paper, horses, but he never saw white- 
 ness by itself. He simply abstracted that quality from 
 various white objects. 
 
 The difference between an abstract idea and a concept is 
 that a.^mcpJLjnajLjnnsist nf -a^ bundle, nf abstract idas. 
 If the class contains more than one common quality, so must 
 the concept ; it must contain as many of these abstracted 
 qualities as are common to the class. The concept of the 
 class whale would embody a large number of such qualities. 
 
 Abstract Ideas Conditioned by Experience. The South- 
 Sea Islander's idea of purity is far different from that of 
 the Anglo-Saxon. The idea of piety of either the Pagan ' 
 or the Moslem differs from that of the Christian. The 
 Irish peasant's idea of cleanliness is not the same as that 
 of the graduates of medical colleges. Our ideas of any'^AJjxv 
 abstract quality will differ as our experience differs. Con- (. 
 trast the Indian's ideas of finery with those of a refinedj 
 Caucasian. Since the abstract ideas differ, the concepts "^L 
 will also differ. It would be interesting to compare the J if. 
 different concepts of home which exist in the minds of ** , 
 the Eskimo, the Fiji Islander, the Indian, the Hottentot, 
 and the Saxon. A street gamin was asked his idea of 
 home, and he replied, "A big dry-goods box with plenty of 
 rags in winter." 
 
 Some philosophers might say that these are not instances 
 of perfect abstract ideas or concepts. The proper reply is 
 that it is sometimes wise to study things as they exist, 
 and not always as they ought to be. It is of the utmost 
 importance for us to notice the difference in the abstract 
 ideas and concepts of individuals; otherwise we shall be 
 puzzled to account for the divergence of thought in dif-
 
 IQO PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ferent people. The person whose concept of home has 
 been formed in a pleasant, attractive spot, surrounded by 
 loving relatives, will think and act very differently from 
 the gamin or the tramp, when anarchy or political corrup- 
 tion threatens the existence of homes in general. 
 
 Intension and Extension. If we are asked what occurs 
 to us when the term "bird " is mentioned, we may give two 
 different answers, according as we consider the meaning 
 of the term in intension or extension. If we reply that a 
 bird is an oviparous animal possessed of certain qualities, 
 and if we think of the feathers, the structure of the bones 
 and the stomac'i, and the manner of locomotion, we are 
 thinking of the qualities which birds possess. Intension * 
 considers only those qualities which are common to a ^ 
 class. 
 
 If, on the other hand, there come to mind the robin, 
 swallow, catbird, thrush, crow, hawk, canary, magpie, etc., 
 we are thinking of the different individuals to which the 
 term "bird" is applicable. Extension has reference to all 
 
 individuals denoted by any class name, and not to their 
 common qualities. 
 
 In the formation of a concept we notice that, as we 
 narrow the class, the more qualities do we have to put 
 into the concept. When we form a concept answering to 
 animal, we can put very few qualities into that, because 
 very few are common to all animals. We cannot include 
 the attribute "having a backbone," because oysters have 
 none; nor "having feet," because worms have none; nor 
 " having ears," because it is doubtful if mollusks have any. 
 When we form a concept of one species of animal, e.g. 
 horse, the common qualities are far more numerous. All 
 the qualities found in the concept animal must also be
 
 <^o. 
 
 THOUGHT. IQI 
 
 found in horse. In addition to these we have many other 
 qualities common to horses, such as having four feet, solid 
 hoofs, teeth, a hairy skin, a backbone, ears, eyes, etc. 
 
 As the intension of a term increases, the extension 
 decreases ; and as the extension increases, the intension 
 decreases. We can see the truth of this general law in 
 the example we have just considered. Animal is very 
 narrow in intension, very broad in extension. There are 
 few qualities common to all animals, but there is a vast 
 number of animals. To give the full meaning of the term 
 in extension, we should have to name every animal, from 
 the microscopic infusoria to the tiger, from the angleworm 
 to the whale. When we decrease the extension to one 
 species of animal, horse, the individuals are fewer, the 
 qualities more numerous. When we are at the stage of 
 comparison in forming concepts, we are concerned with 
 intension alone ; when we are generalizing or classifying, 
 we are also concerned with the extension of the term. 
 
 II. JUDGMENT. 
 
 Second Step in Thinking. When we have two con- 
 cepts, we proceed to compare them, and to decide whether 
 they agree. This process is called judgment. For this act 
 there must be two concepts, and agreement or disagree- 
 ment must be asserted to exist between them after the 
 proper comparison has been made. We have the concept 
 horse and the concept animal. We compare them and 
 decide that they agree. A horse is an animal. That state- 
 ment embodies a positive judgment. We may compare the 
 concept of horse and zebra and notice that they disagree. 
 A horse is not a zebra. This is a negative judgment. 
 
 Judgment is necessary in forming concepts. When we
 
 192 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 decide that a quality is, or is not, common to a class, we are 
 really judging. This is another evidence of the complexity 
 and unified action of the mind. 
 
 The process of judgment is always a choice between 
 two, and only two r alternatives at any -gi^en tjrjie If we 
 have the concept si panther and of the genus fe 'Us before 
 our minds, we must decide that the panther either belongs, 
 or does not belong, to the cat tribe. The boy who is pon- 
 dering over a captured bat must come to the conclusion 
 that a bat either is, or is not, a bird. 
 
 Were isolated concepts possible, they would be of very 
 little use. Isolated facts are of no more service than 
 unspun wool. We might have a concept of a certain 
 class of three-leaved ivy, as we might also of poisons. 
 Unless judgment linked these two concepts and decided 
 that this species of ivy is poisonous, we might take hold 
 of it and be poisoned. We might have a concept of 
 bread, and also one of meat, fruits, and vegetables. If we 
 also had a concept of food, unrelated to these, we should 
 starve to death, for we should not think of them as foods. 
 A vessel, supposing itself far out at sea, signaled another 
 vessel that the crew were dying of thirst. That crew 
 certainly had a concept of drinkable things and also of 
 water. To the surprise of the first, the second vessel sig- 
 naled back, "Draw from the sea and drink. You are at the 
 mouth of the Amazon." The thirsty crew had not joined 
 the concept drinkable to the concept of the water over the 
 ship's side. A man having taken an overdose of laudanum, 
 his wife lost much valuable time in sending out for anti- 
 dotes, because certain of her concepts had not been con- 
 nected by judgment. She had good concepts of coffee 
 and of mustard ; she also knew that an antidote to opium 
 was needed ; but she had never linked these concepts and
 
 THOUGHT. 193 
 
 judged that coffee and mustard are antidotes to opium. 
 The moment she formed that judgment she was a wiser 
 woman, for her knowledge was related and usable^ 
 
 Why Judgments are Often Difficult to Form. In actual 
 life things present themselves to us with their, qualities 
 disguised or obscured by other conflicting qualities. Men 
 had for ages seen burning substances and had formed a 
 concept of them. A certain hard, black, stony substance 
 had often been noticed, and a concept had been formed 
 of it. This concept was imperfect ; but it is very seldom 
 that we meet with perfect, sharply defined concepts in 
 actual life. So it happened that for ages the concept of 
 burning substance was never linked by judgment to the 
 concept of stone coal. The combustible quality in the coal 
 was overshadowed by its stony attributes. "Of course, 
 stone will not burn," people said. One cannot tell how 
 long the development of mankind was retarded for that 
 very reason. England would not to-day be manufactur- 
 ing products for the rest of the world, had . not some one 
 jjudged coal to be a combustible substance. 
 
 The Grecians had a concept of electricity, but its quali- 
 ties were overshadowed by the more apparent ones of 
 amber, in which the Grecians first noticed electrical phe- 
 nomena. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the 
 most acute thinkers had not conceived of electricity as 
 force resident in vibrations of the ether. It took geniuses 
 in judging to conceive of electricity as a power capable of 
 drawing cars, of moving machinery, of lighting cities, and 
 of carrying messages across the ocean. Since the concept 
 of electricity has been linked to the concept of a force, 
 or the product of a force, applicable to almost any purpose, 
 the world has been revolutionized.
 
 IQ4. PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ? 
 
 Judgment is the power revolutionizing the world. The 
 revolution is slow because nature's forces are so complex, 
 so hard to be reduced to their simplest forms, and so dis- 
 guised and neutralized by the presence of other forces. 
 
 The progress of the next hundred years will join many 
 concepts, which now seem to have no common qualities, 
 ilf the vast amount of energy latent in the sunbeams, in 
 the rays of the stars, in the winds, in the rising and fall- 
 ing of the tides, is treasured up and applied to human 
 purposes, it will be a fresh triumph for judgment. This 
 world is rolling around in a universe of energy, of which 
 judgment has as yet harnessed only the smallest appre- 
 ciable fraction. Fortunately, judgment is ever silently 
 working and comparing things that, to past ages, have 
 seemed dissimilar; and it is continually abstracting and 
 leaving out of the field of view those qualities whichfhave 
 simply served to obscure the point at issue. 
 
 III. REASONING. 
 
 Third Step in Thinking. As in judgment we compare 
 two concepts and decide that they agree or differ, so in 
 reasoning we compare two judgments. From this com- 
 parison we draw a third judgment, thus completing the 
 process of reasoning. If we saw red-hot irons lying on a 
 blacksmith's anvil, we should not pick them up, because, at 
 some previous time, we had gone through with the follow* 
 ing chain of reasoning : 
 
 All red-hot substances are capable of burning. 
 These metals are red-hot substances. 
 
 Here we have two judgments. First, we decide that 
 the concept of red-hot substances agrees with the concept
 
 of things capable of inflicting a burn. Secondly, we j 
 the concept of the metals on the anvil to the concept of 
 red-hot substances. We now have two concepts agreeing 
 with the same third concept, and hence they must agree 
 with each other. Capable of burning agrees with red-hot 
 substances. These metals agree with red-hot substances. 
 Hence we form our third judgment : These metals are 
 capable of burning. This is a positive judgment deduced 
 from two previous judgments. 
 
 If we were in doubt as to whether a whale was a fish, 
 we might frame two judgments of this kind : 
 
 All fish are cold-blooded animals. 
 A whale is not a cold-blooded animal. 
 
 In our first judgment we join our concept of fish to 
 our concept of cold-blooded animals. Next, we compare 
 the concept of whales with the concept of cold-blooded 
 animals, and find that there is disagreement. Now, since 
 we have the concept of fish agreeing, and the concept 
 of whales disagreeing, with the same third concept, cold- 
 blooded animals, these concepts cannot agree with each 
 other. Hence, we say : A whale is not a fish. This is a 
 negative judgment. 
 
 Thinking, therefore, requires three processes for its com- 
 pletion : (i) the formation of the concept, (2) judgment, 
 (3) reasoning. In actual thinking these three processes 
 are frequently consolidated into one act. 
 
 / 
 
 Inductive Reasoning. Man has to find out through his 
 own experience, or that of others, the major premises from 
 which he argues or draws his conclusions. By induction 
 we examine what seems to us a sufficient number of indi- 
 vidual cases. We then conclude that the rest of these
 
 196 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 cases, which we have not examined, will obey the same 
 general law. The judgment, All men are mortal, was 
 reached by induction. It was observed that all past 
 generations of men had died, and this fact warranted the 
 conclusion that all men living will die. We make that 
 assertion as boldly as if we had seen them all die. The 
 premise, All cows chew the cud, was laid down after a 
 certain number of cows had been examined. If we were 
 to see a cow twenty years hence, we should expect to find 
 that she chewed her cud. It was noticed by astronomers 
 '. that, after a certain number of days, the earth regularly 
 J returned to the same position in its orbit, the sun rose 
 in the same place, and the day was of the same length. 
 Hence, the length of the year and of each succeeding day 
 was determined, and the almanac maker now infers that 
 the same will be true of future years. He tells us that 
 the sun on the first of next December will rise at a given 
 time, although he cannot throw himself into the future 
 to verify the conclusion. 
 
 It is very fortunate that the human mind is given the 
 faculty of inferring the existence of a universal law from 
 the examination of a certain number of individual phe- 
 nomena. This power, like all other powers, is attended 
 with danger, but if we were compelled to test each new 
 case before we acted, we should waste the most of our 
 short lives. The doctor would always have to be determin- 
 ing the action of the same remedies. The chemist could 
 not be sure that a new sample of water could be resolved 
 ' into hydrogen and oxygen. The bridge builder could not 
 tell in advance whether steel would serve for its construc- 
 tion. The only way to find out whether a new specimen 
 of red-hot iron would burn would be to take hold of it. 
 To ascertain whether arsenic not already tested would
 
 prove poisonous, we should have to swallow it. The power 
 of inductive reasoning frees us from these necessities and 
 enables us to travel with seven-league boots among the 
 facts of life. 
 
 Perfect and Imperfect Induction. When every object 
 concerning which a statement is to be made has been ex- 
 amined, the induction is perfect. For instance, if we went 
 to a certain island in the Baltic Sea, interviewed every j2&J I 
 inhabitant, and found out that he was of Teutonic descent, 
 our induction would be perfect. If we examined all the 
 factories in a certain town and found that all were engaged 
 in making cotton goods, our induction would be perfect. V M^ ' 
 If we went to a certain home, examined all the inmates, and t^ 
 found them to be retired soldiers, our statement that none 
 but soldiers are admitted to the privileges of that home, 
 would be founded on perfect induction. When a store- 
 keeper knows what each shelf contains ; a housewife, what 
 each drawer holds ; a farmer, what crop is planted in each 
 lot, the knowledge is based on perfect induction. There 
 was never a good librarian, stock raiser, farmer, shop- 
 keeper, chemist, druggist, housewife, or manufacturer, 
 without stores of knowledge obtained through perfect 
 induction, or, in other words, without some definite 
 knowledge of every individual object standing in certain 
 relations to the owner or controller. 
 
 Important as this knowledge is, it is excelled in im- 
 portance and amount by inferences from imperfect induc- 
 tion. Whenever we make a statement, such as, All men 
 are mortal, without having tested each individual case, 
 or, in other words, having seen every man die, we are 
 reasoning from imperfe.r.t induction. Every time a man 
 buys a piece of beef, a bushel jbl potatoes, or a loaf of
 
 198 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 bread, he is basing his action on inference from imperfect 
 induction. He believes that the beef, potatoes, and bread 
 will prove nutritious food, although he has not actually 
 tested those special edibles before purchasing them. They 
 have hitherto been found to be nutritious on trial, and 
 he argues that the same will prove true of these special 
 instances. Whenever a man takes stock in a new national 
 bank, a manufactory, or a bridge, he is arguing from past 
 cases that this special investment will prove profitable. 
 We instinctively believe in the uniformity of nature ; if we 
 did not, we should not consult our almanacs. If sufficient 
 heat will cause phosphorus to burn to-day, we conclude 
 that the same results will follow to-morrow, if the circum- 
 stances are the same. 
 
 W"um<? C^nGxwAttfVvQ 
 
 The Danger in .Hasty Inference/ Men must constantly 
 employ imperfect induction in order to advance ; but great 
 dangers attend inductive inferences when made from too 
 narrow experience. A child has experience with one or two 
 dogs at his home. Because of their gentleness, he argues 
 that all dogs are gentle. He does not, perhaps, find out the 
 contrary until he has been severely bitten. His induction 
 was too hasty. He had not tested a sufficiently large 
 number of dogs to form such a conclusion. From one or 
 two experiences with a certain crop in a certain latitude, 
 a farmer may argue that the crop will generally be profit- 
 able, whereas it may not again prove so for years. A man 
 may have trusted a number of people and found them 
 honest. He concludes that people as a rule are honest, 
 trusts a certain dishonest man, and is ruined. 
 
 The older people grow, the more cautious they generally 
 become in forming inductive conclusions. Many instances 
 are noted and compared ; but even the wisest sometimes
 
 THOUGHT. 199 
 
 make mistakes. It once was a generally accepted fact 
 that all swans were white. Nobody had ever seen a 
 dark swan, and the inference that all were white was 
 regarded as certainly true. Black swans were, however, 
 found in Australia. 
 
 In some cases the examination of a very few instances 
 will give a reasonably certain conclusion. Within certain 
 limits we may, roughly speaking, lay down the following 
 guiding principle : Where there are logical reasons for the 
 exact similarity of a new instance to others already exam- 
 ined, we may infer the similarity quite boldly, although we 
 are familiar with but a few individuals of that class. From 
 the examination of a few cases we might infer that all men 
 had lungs. There is a logical necessity why this should 
 prove true. If the interior angles of one triangle are equal 
 to two right angles, we may infer that this will be true of 
 all triangles, because we see that all triangles must stand 
 in similar relations to this one. 
 
 On the other hand, there is no reason why a swan 
 should be white rather than green or yellow or black. 
 The color does not interfere with similarity of shape, 
 structure, and habits. We might infer that all swans 
 would have webbed feet, bills, feathers, etc., because the 
 absence of these would change the nature of the fowl 
 and render a new specimen unlike the old in vital points. 
 
 ^Comparison and search for similar qualities are necessary 
 
 (factors in all reasoning. 
 
 Deductive Reasoning. After induction has classified 
 certain phenomena and thus given us a major premise, 
 we proceed deductively to apply the inference to any 
 new specimen that can be shown to belong to that class. 
 Induction hands over to deduction a ready-made major
 
 20O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 premise, e.g. All scorpions are dangerous. Deduction takes 
 that as a fact, making no inquiry about its truth. When a 
 new object is presented, say a possible scorpion, the only 
 troublesome step is to decide whether the object is really a 
 scorpion. This may be a severe task on judgment. The 
 average inhabitant of the temperate zone would probably not 
 care to risk a hundred dollars on his ability to distinguish a 
 scorpion from a centipede, or from twenty or thirty other 
 creatures bearing some resemblance to a scorpion. Here 
 there must be accurately formed concepts, and sound judg- 
 ment must be used in comparing them. As soon as we 
 decide that the object is really a scorpion, we complete the 
 deduction in this way: 
 
 All scorpions are dangerous. 
 This creature is a scorpion. 
 This creature is dangerous. 
 
 The reasoning of early life must be necessarily inductive. 
 The mind is then forming general conclusions from the 
 examination of individual phenomena. Only after general 
 laws have been laid down, after objects have been classi- 
 fied, after major p/emises have been formed, can deduction 
 
 be employed. 
 / 
 
 Primary Laws of Thought. 
 
 We can lay down three positive laws which the mind 
 must,, obey in thinking correctly.' 
 
 Law of Identity. The same quality or thing ts always 
 the same quality or thing, no matter how different the con- 
 ditions in which it occurs. Theoretically, it seems easy to 
 be able to recognize a thing as the same that we have 
 seen before ; practically, however, the recognition is often
 
 THOUGHT. 201 
 
 difficult. We meet a person to-day ; next week we see 
 him on the street differently attired, and fail to recognize 
 him. In studying certain constellations, the student fre- 
 quently has trouble in identifying them when they have 
 moved to another position and appear to be inverted. A 
 doctor often has great trouble in identifying a disease, 
 because it is complicated with so many other conditions. 
 Cases of typhoid fever have existed for weeks without 
 identification by excellent physicians. The law of identity 
 declares that a case of typhoid fever is always a case of 
 typhoid fever ; the trouble is to recognize it as such. A 
 masked man is the same man as before, but he may go 
 unrecognized ; so may a certain plant. If a person could 
 always detect the same as the same, he would less often 
 fall a victim to rascality in new guises. 
 
 Law of Contradiction. No thing can at the same time 
 and place both be and not be. A_man_canat.be both hoji- 
 CSt and dishnnftfit-ftfr-th"' lam** time ; nor can an animal 
 be both dead and alive. A piece of cloth cannot be both 
 red and not red ; but it may be red in one spot, black in 
 another, white in another. The entire piece may be after- 
 wards dyed blue, but it can never be both red and not red 
 in the same place and at the same time. 
 
 Law of Excluded Middle. Everything must either be or 
 not be ; there is no other alternative or middle course. Let 
 the thing be apple and the quality sour. We may take 
 any conceivable quality and assert one of two possibilities ; 
 the quality either does or does not belong to the thing. 
 We may not know what a samovar is, but we can truth- 
 fully assert that it must be either yellow or not yellow, 
 metallic or not, blue-eyed or not, bald or not
 
 2O2 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 A plausible exception to this law may be urged. It 
 may be said that it will not do to assert that water is warm 
 or cold, for it may be lukewarm, neither warm nor cold. 
 This law empowers no one to make any such assertion. 
 We must always keep to the same quality, e.g. warmth ; 
 then we can say that the water is either warm or not warm. 
 If it is lukewarm, it is not warm ; if it is cold, it is not 
 warm. It will not do to say that an object must be either 
 white or black, for it may be blue or green ; but we can 
 say that it is either white or not white. We can always 
 affirm of anything either that it has, or has not, a certain 
 quality ; but, from the absence of the quality, we cannot 
 affirm the possession of the opposite quality. 
 
 Professor Jevons said of these three laws : " Students 
 are seldom able to see at first their full meaning and 
 importance. All arguments may be explained when thelsej 
 self-evident laws are granted ; and it is not too much ta 
 Bay that the whole of logic will be plain to those who will 
 constantly use these laws as the key " (i). _J 
 
 Relations Traced out by the Mind. 
 
 The Most Important Relations. We have seen that 
 thinking consists essentially in ferreting out relations and 
 in comparing them. What are some of the relations 
 actually detected as we move about the world ? 
 
 We see a ship, with full sail set, entering a harbor in 
 which other ships are lying at anchor. The next day we 
 see what we decide to be the same ship, lying with furled 
 sails beside the wharf. We have traced out the first 
 thought relation, identity. We discovered this relation of 
 identity by comparing the memory image of the ship with 
 the objective ship. Secondly, we notice the yardarms,
 
 THOUGHT. 
 
 203 
 
 masts, rigging, quarter-deck, rudder, etc. We see these, 
 not as isolated objects, but as related to the whole ship. 
 We thus reach the relation of whole and parts. Thirdly, 
 we notice that the ship extends for a considerable distance 
 along the wharf, that she is much larger than a pleasure 
 boat just passing the end of the wharf. We are now con-, 
 sidering the ship's relation to space. Fourthly, we com- J 
 pare this ship with other ships and notice a resemblance. 
 Fifthly, we compare the ship with a brig, a sloop, or t 
 wharf, and detect a difference. Sixthly, we notice that she. ,, 
 has three masts, two anchors, one rudder. We thus cog-. \ 
 nize quantitative relations. Seventhly, we remember that O^^U-r^ 
 we saw her sailing yesterday, and we wonder how long she -fT" 
 will lie at the wharf, how long her next voyage will beT^U/fl 
 how long she has been built. We are now busied with h 
 time relations. Eighthly, we observe that the ship is t j 
 thumping against the wharf. We wonder how that can jj 
 be on such a calm day. We see a steamer rapidly passing 
 and observe that she makes the waves. We are now 
 studying the relations of cause and effect. Ninthly, we 
 notice how admirably the ship was built to carry a large 
 cargo safely and at the same time to be propelled swiftly. 
 We are now contemplating the relation of design, or means 
 to achieve definite ends. These nine relations are the 
 most important ones traced out by the mind. 
 
 INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Theories about Intuition. Some psychologists claim 
 that we have knowledge obtained neither through induction 
 nor deduction ; that we recognize certain truths the moment 
 we perceive certain objects, without any process of infer- 
 ence. Under the head of intuitive knowledge are classified
 
 204 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 such cases as the following : We perceive an object and 
 immediately know it in a time relation, as existing now or 
 then. We are said to have an intuitive concept of time. 
 When we are told that the whole is greater than a part ; 
 that things equal to the same thing are equal to each 
 other ; that a straight line cannot inclose space, we imme- 
 diately, or intuitively, recognize the truth of these state 
 ments. Attempts at proof do not make us feel surer 01 
 their truth. When we are told that every object, from a 
 kernel of wheat to an elephant, occupies space, we do not 
 care for proof. If we enter our room, find our wardrobe 
 broken open, our clothing and valuables gone, we assume 
 that their disappearance had a cause. We do not care to 
 have any one attempt to prove to us that every finite thing 
 must have a cause. We say that that is self-evident, or 
 that we know the fact intuitively. We expect that a tree 
 that bears apples this year will not produce pumpkins, 
 foxes, or marbles next year. In other words, we expect 
 nature to be uniform. 
 
 Barring a few exceptions, the position of these intuitive 
 philosophers seems reasonable. They do not hold that 
 the mind has at birth a single ready-made idea, but they 
 maintain that the moment we perceive a certain thing, a 
 new truth flashes into our minds a truth not given by 
 experience, but developed in connection with experience. 
 Thus, when we see a train passing us, we at once know 
 that it is passing us now. The " now," or concept of time, 
 flashed on our minds the second we had definite experience. 
 The moment we experienced the object, we knew it in a 
 time relation, just as a young duck swims the moment 
 it touches the water. There must be foundation truths 
 assumed on which to build other truths. The finite mind 
 cannot dig beneath these foundation truths, or intuitions.
 
 THOUGHT. 205 
 
 Another school of psychologists holds that there are no 
 intuitions, that what we regard as such are the products of 
 evolution or heredity. This school likens intuition to in- 
 stinct. It grants that the young duck knows water instinc- 
 tively, plunges into it, and swims without learning. These 
 psychologists believe that there was a time when this was 
 not the case with the progenitors of the duck. They had 
 to gain this knowledge slowly through experience. Those 
 that learned the proper aquatic lesson survived and trans- 
 mitted this knowledge, through a modified structure, to 
 their progeny. Those that failed in the lesson perished in 
 the struggle for existence. 
 
 As the autumn approaches, the wild goose does not 
 reason that it ought to migrate. The approach of cold 
 immediately develops the migratory intuition, or instinct. 
 The tendency is already there at birth. The approach of 
 cold merely develops the latent migratory tendency. But, 
 it is said, there was a time when it took severe cold to 
 drive the geese south. Many perished on the way. The 
 same experiences were repeated in the case of the survivors 
 and generation after generation of their descendants, until 
 the lesson of migrating at a certain time had been gradually 
 learned, and the structure so modified that the tendency 
 to migrate was transmitted as an instinct to the young. 
 
 This school claims that the intuition of cause and effect 
 arose in much the same way. Generations of human 
 beings had seen the cause invariably joined to the effect ; 
 hence, through inseparable association came the recogni- 
 tion of their necessary sequence. The tendency to regard 
 all phenomena in these relations was with steadily increas- 
 ing force transmitted by the laws of heredity to posterity, 
 until the recognition of the relationship has become an 
 intuition.
 
 206 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 The view that a single individual has built up all these 
 intuitions in one lifetime by separate experiences is being 
 abandoned. There is, without doubt, much truth in the 
 theory of heredity, and this does not necessarily contradict 
 the intuitive theory. If a process which was once not 
 intuitive gradually becomes intuitive, why is it not then in- 
 tuitive ? The shepherd's dog that guards the lambs may 
 have descended from the wolf, but that dog is not a wolf 
 now. If we realize a truth now without inference, the 
 process is intuitive, no matter what it may once have been. 
 It may be that a luscious peach was nourished by a rank 
 soil ; but the ripe peach is not the soil. Things come to 
 be other than the material from which they spring. 
 
 Innate Ideas. The old belief in innate ideas, that is, 
 that certain fully developed ideas are given at birth, uncon- 
 nected with any experience, is untenable. Nothing more 
 than the germ of these ideas exists in the mind. Were it 
 not for experience, the germ would never be developed 
 into an idea. On the one hand, rich soil and rain will 
 never make an oak tree without an acorn to start with ; on 
 the other, an acorn will never become an oak without the 
 soil and the rain to develop it. Some philosophers fail to 
 understand that the germ of a thing is not the thing itself 
 any more than an acorn is an oak ; other philosophers do 
 not appreciate the fact that in order to produce an oak, we 
 must have an acorn at the start. 
 
 The precise limits of the extent of intuitive ideas are still 
 a matter of dispute ; it may be that some ideas now con- 
 sidered intuitive by many, can be shown to be due wholly 
 to experience. It is possible that the universities of 
 Arctums or the Milky Way may teach neither cause nor 
 effect. Many philosophers believe that our idea of cause
 
 THOUGHT. 207 
 
 and effect is wholly due to our experience ; that we can 
 and do think something out of any relation to a cause 
 when we think that our wills are free and are themselves 
 the pilots of our actions. If the will is not free, if it is 
 under the control of a cause, we must not blame a criminal 
 for doing something that he could not help. These meta- 
 physical arguments can be prolonged indefinitely. They 
 may have their use in sharpening the reasoning powers. 
 
 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS. 
 
 Examples of Animal Intelligence. Much has been 
 learned about human intelligence by comparing it with 
 animal intelligence. Since theorizing not based on the ex- 
 amination of concrete cases is valueless, let us first give 
 some actual instances of intelligence in animals. 
 
 A man allowed a sow pig about a year old to run in his 
 orchard. He watched her go to a young apple tree, shake 
 it, and eat the apples that fell. Having finished these, she 
 again shook the tree, pricked up her ears, and listened for 
 more to drop. As none fell, she went away. 
 
 Another sow with a litter of pigs was accustomed to 
 spend the day in a forest, returning home at night to be 
 fed. When her pigs were of sufficient age, three were 
 taken to roast at different times, being caught when she 
 returned home with them. After the third had been 
 taken, she came without the pigs. The next evening a 
 watch was set to find out what had become of them. She 
 would not allow them to follow her farther than the edge 
 of the forest, but drove them back repeatedly ; she then 
 went to the house, got her own supper, and returned to 
 them. She had evidently connected their disappearance 
 with going to the house, and took this course to save them.
 
 208 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Professor Romanes writes : " I myself had a horse which 
 was very clever at slipping his halter, after he knew that 
 the coachman was in bed. He would then draw out the 
 two sticks in the pipe of the oat bin, so as to let all the 
 oats run down from the bin above upon the stable floor. 
 Of course, he must have observed that this was the manner 
 in which the coachman obtained the oats, and desiring to 
 obtain them, did what he had observed to be required. 
 Similarly, on other occasions he used to turn the water 
 tap to obtain a drink, and pull the window cord to open 
 the window on hot nights." 
 
 There is a well-authenticated account of a Shetland pony 
 that had been shod once. Happening to lose a shoe, the 
 animal went by himself to the door of the village black- 
 smith, and refused to leave until the missing shoe had 
 been put on. The pony then pawed on the floor to make 
 sure that the shoe was all right and, giving a neigh of 
 satisfaction, cantered off home. 
 
 A man once desired to test his dog, which was lying 
 down quietly as if asleep. In the midst of a general con- 
 versation, he inserted the words, "The cow is in the 
 potatoes." The dog jumped up at once, dashed out to the 
 garden, and appeared surprised not to find the cow there. 
 
 Another dog had for some time chased a rabbit which 
 ran in a circular course to a burrow and escaped the dog. 
 Finally, the dog, on starting the rabbit, ran immediately 
 across the circle to the mouth of the burrow and awaited 
 the rabbit there. 
 
 The author of Unbeaten Tracks in Japan writes as follows 
 of the intelligence of Japanese crows : 
 
 " In the inn garden I saw a dog eating a piece of carrion 
 in the presence of several of these covetous birds. They 
 evidently said a great deal to each other on the subject,
 
 THOUGHT. 209 
 
 and now and then one or two of them tried to pull the 
 meat away from him, which he resented. At last a big, 
 strong crow succeeded in tearing off a piece, with which 
 he returned to the pine where the others were congregated, 
 and after much earnest speech, they all surrounded the 
 dog, and the leading bird dexterously dropped the small 
 piece of meat within reach of his mouth, when he imme- 
 diately snapped at it, letting go the big piece, unwisely, 
 for a second, on which two of the crows flew away with it 
 to the pine, and with much fluttering and hilarity they all 
 ate, or rather gorged it, the deceived dog looking vacant 
 and bewildered for a moment, after which he sat under the 
 tree and barked at them inanely. 
 
 "A gentleman told me that he saw a dog holding a piece 
 of meat in like manner in the presence of three crows, 
 which also vainly tried to tear it from him, and after a 
 consultation they separated, two going as near as they 
 dared to the meat, while the third gave the tail a bite 
 sharp enough to make the dog turn round with a squeak, 
 on which the other villains seized the meat, and the three 
 fed triumphantly upon it on the top of a wall." 
 
 It is well known that some ants keep a certain species 
 of insect, called aphides. These stand in precisely the 
 same relation to ants that cows do to human beings. The 
 aphides are regularly milked by the ants, and a sweet 
 nutritious liquid, somewhat resembling honey, is thus 
 secured. The ants sometimes build stables for their cows, 
 allowing them to pasture on certain plants, and fencing 
 the stalk of these plants in such a way that the cows 
 cannot escape. Naturalists have repeatedly seen ants 
 milk their cows. 
 
 Three species of ants keep other ants as slaves. The 
 slaves tend the aphides, milk them, and often climb trees 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. u.
 
 2IO PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 and plants in order to find more aphides and thus increase 
 the dairy. The slaves even put the food into the mouths 
 of their masters. Bugs are also sometimes enslaved by 
 ants and made to carry heavy burdens. 
 
 A man placed a broad cloth soaked in the extract of 
 tobacco around a tree, which ants used as a pasturage for 
 their aphides. The ants could not cross the cloth, and so 
 they brought pellets of moist earth and built a bridge over 
 the strip. They crossed this bridge easily and went to 
 milk their cows. A tarred cloth was put around a tree, 
 and some ants returning home from milking found them- 
 selves imprisoned. They ran back up the tree, brought 
 down aphides, stuck their bodies fast in the tar, and 
 thus formed a bridge across the strip. Ants have been 
 seen to make a bridge across a small vessel of water. 
 The ants might have brought earth for this bridge, but 
 they illustrated the choice of means for ends and used 
 instead pieces of wood or straw. 
 
 Ants have cemeteries and funeral processions. Two 
 ants bear the corpse at the head of the procession, which 
 follows two by two. When the first two are tired, the 
 next pair take up the body. On arriving at the burial 
 ground, they dig a grave, and inter the body. A lady, 
 wishing to see a funeral, killed a number of soldier ants. 
 She watched the procession as above described. On 
 reaching the cemetery, six or seven of the ants refused 
 to help dig the graves. These ants were caught, brought 
 back, and killed at once like deserters from an army. A 
 trench was then dug in which they were all buried to- 
 gether. It was observed that ants would not bury their 
 slaves in the cemetery used for the masters. Darwin 
 called the brain of an ant one of the most marvelous atoms 
 of matter in the world (2).
 
 THOUGHT. 211 
 
 Associational Reasoning. When we come to investigate 
 carefully the intelligence of animals, we find that theit 
 reasoning is principally by the association of concretes. 
 
 The dog that ran to the potato patch on hearing the 
 expression, "The cow is in the potatoes," knew from oft 
 association of the word "cow" with the object, that the 
 cow needed attention. The potato field had been used in 
 connection with a certain place so long, that the word 
 recalled the place to the dog. The other words in the 
 conversation were associated with nothing definite in the 
 canine intelligence. The word "cow" brought up by ordi- 
 nary association an animal with which the dog was very 
 familiar. The word " potatoes " recalled a place. There was 
 a. union of two concrete images, a cow and a potato field. 
 
 The dog that ran direct to the mouth of the burrow 
 and waited for his- prey, instead of chasing the rabbit 
 through a long circular course, had before followed the 
 rabbit's path which finally led to the burrow. Repeated 
 associations had caused the sight of the rabbit vanishing 
 down the burrow to make such a deep impression on the 
 dog, that when he started, the associated images ran 
 through his mind faster than his legs could take him. 
 The last and most powerful image of the series was the 
 rabbit disappearing down the burrow. The dog immedi- 
 ately rushed straight for the place indicated by the last 
 image, arriving there first because his associations had 
 outrun his legs. 
 
 The pig that shook a tree to make the apples fall, had 
 previously leaned against a tree to scratch herself. This 
 movement was associated with the falling of apples, and 
 both concrete ideas were associated in the pig's memory. 
 Why the apples fell was as much of a mystery to the pig 
 as the appearance of the jinnee was to Aladdin when he
 
 212 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 rubbed his lamp. The two were associated, and that was 
 enough for the pig. From the falling of apples due to the 
 swaying of the tree in the wind, the pig would probably 
 never have reasoned that any kind of violent motion would 
 be accompanied with like results. Had the pig not itched, 
 the tree would probably never have been shaken. A man 
 would naturally have reasoned from the results due to the 
 wind that the same would happen if the tree were shaken 
 by his own muscles. The man would have reasoned from 
 one instance, to another apparently dissimilar at first 
 sight. The pig reasoned from one accidental shaking to 
 another. 
 
 The horse had seen a movement of sticks followed by 
 the descent of oats. The two concrete images were associ- 
 ated. The horse did not know why the oats fell ; it was 
 enough for him that they did fall. If the coachman had 
 accidentally happened to pull the sticks when the horse 
 pawed, the animal would doubtless have pawed until the 
 fall of oats was no longer associated with that movement. 
 
 The Shetland pony had associated the shoe with the 
 blacksmith shop. The pony's foot was probably sore, 
 and the animal went to the blacksmith as naturally as he 
 would have gone a second time to a place where corn had 
 been found. 
 
 Crows had probably pecked other crows in anger and 
 had caused them to drop food. When the pecking had 
 once been associated with such satisfactory results, the 
 crows would be likely to repeat it in many ways, until it 
 came to be applied in a seemingly scientific manner to the 
 tail of a dog. 
 
 In the case of ants the question is more difficult, because 
 it is obscured by instincts built up ages ago under the influ- 
 ence of unknown causes.
 
 THOUGHT. 213 
 
 There are some extremely puzzling cases of intelligence 
 on the part of other animals. Generally, however, we 
 may say that the reasoning of animals is due to the 
 contiguous association of one concrete object, or set of 
 objects, with another. This may occasionally contain the 
 germ, but not the full flower, of human reasoning. 
 
 Improvement due to contiguous association must be 
 accidental. This is the reason why the swallow, the robin, 
 the crow, the lion, and the elephant have not bettered 
 their condition from age to age. We must not forget this 
 fact when we are puzzled with an occasional exhibition of 
 animal intelligence. 
 
 HE HIGHER TYPE OF REASONING. 
 
 Detection of Similarity amid Diversity. There is a 
 vast gulf between associating concrete cases with others, 
 and reasoning from certain instances to those where the 
 dissimilarity is the most striking point, where the simi- 
 larity is seen in but one tiny thread running through fabrics 
 otherwise as different as possible. What beast would have 
 detected any analogy between the steam raising the lid 
 of a teakettle and the strength of a horse, and then put 
 the steam to do the work of the horse ? What ant 
 would have seen any similarity between the vibrations in 
 the yielding air and the apparently unyielding telephone 
 wire ? 
 
 Human reason is characterized by applying known ex- 
 pedients and methods to unknown and untried cases, 
 merely on the mental perception of similarity. The high- 
 est example of this was seen in Newton's detecting a 
 relation between a falling apple and the moon's move- 
 ments in its orbit, and then in applying the mathematical
 
 214 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 laws deduced therefrom to every atom of matter, from a 
 drop of water to the farthest star. The problem of the 
 tides was an easy matter for such a mind to solve. 
 
 Professor James gives the case of a dog that went to 
 the house and got a sponge for his master to bail out the 
 boat. The dog was very observant and had noticed the 
 sponge used in the same way before. If the dog could 
 not have found the sponge, he would probably have re- 
 turned with nothing. Even an ignorant man would have 
 formed the concept of a thing capable of bailing out water, 
 and if he could not have found the sponge, he would have 
 brought a wooden scoop, a wash basin, a tin can, "a cup, or 
 a coffee pot. The differences in these would have been 
 sufficiently great to bewilder the dog ; but to the man's 
 reason they would have been nearly identical for the pur- 
 pose. A man might never have seen a coffee pot used to 
 bail out a boat ; yet he would have noticed at a glance that 
 this utensil had the qualities which fitted it for the pur- 
 pose. Man thus reduces stray individual phenomena and 
 objects to classes, and brings them under general laws. 
 
 The higher type of reasoning, then, proceeds by detect- 
 ing similarity amid great diversity, by applying old expe- 
 dients to solve new problems. Contiguous reasoning starts 
 from accidental associations. When the climate changed 
 in prehistoric England, man was ready with an expedient 
 to protect himself ; the elephants and lions died. 
 
 Units of Comparison. In all reasoning we must have 
 certain units with which to compare the things in the 
 world around us. These units should be well known ; 
 indeed, they must be better known than the things with 
 which we compare them, or we gain nothing by the com- 
 parison. Knowledge consists in assimilating -things__uiv
 
 THOUGHT. 215 
 
 tQ thingff kHft wr l Isolated facts are worth nothing^ 
 Only when facts are woven together by thought do they 
 become valuable. 
 
 Knowledge of these units is obtained, in the first place, 
 through perception. Where that is stinted, thought must 
 be dwarfed. A young child familiar with a dog, on seeing 
 a puffing locomotive, called it a " big bow-wow." The 
 dog was the nearest comparing unit that the child had. 
 The stars to him will, at first, be candles. When his 
 knowledge widens, he will think of them as suns. On 
 seeing goats for the first time, the South-Sea Islanders 
 called them horned hogs. Horses were called large dogs. 
 The hog and the dog were units of comparison because 
 they were the best known quadrupeds. Unknown animals 
 had to be assimilated to the most similar known ones. 
 A backwoodsman traveling will often attempt, ludicrously 
 enough, to explain the sights he sees in terms of his own 
 stinted experience. He must proceed in this way until 
 his experience is widened and he has more units of com- 
 parison. It was the most natural act for the rustic, sitting 
 down .to an aristocratic city dinner, to drink out of his 
 finger bowl, in which a piece of fragrant lemon rind was 
 floating. He had before had experience only with lemon- 
 ade under that guise. 
 
 Every cultivated adult has a large number of units 
 which his own experience has given him. In such a 
 simple matter as comparing the sizes of two rooms, the 
 person without a unit of comparison is lost. One room 
 cannot be taken up and carried inside another for direct 
 comparison. The foot-rule supplies such a unit. We find 
 that one room is twenty feet long ; the other, fifteen. We 
 now have their lengths denoted in terms of a common 
 unit. The eggs which the farmer barters for sugar must
 
 2l6 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 first be expressed in terms of a certain unit, as must also 
 the sugar. The eggs are worth so many cents a dozen, 
 the sugar so many cents a pound. Steam and electrical 
 engines are said to be of so many horse power ; lights, of 
 so many candle power. 
 
 All deductive reasoning has its well-defined units of 
 comparison. In the syllogism, these are called the middle 
 term. A person is found wondering whether a certain 
 fruit grew on a tree, or on a vine, like a squash. He is 
 informed that, 
 
 All quinces grow on trees. 
 This yellow object is a quince. 
 It grows on a tree. 
 
 Here we have a quince = something growing on a tree. 
 This yellow object = a quince. We see that the same 
 unit, quince, is common to both equations. It is, therefore, 
 the comparing unit, or middle term, and occupies a relation 
 analogous to that of the foot-rule in the case of the two 
 rooms. 
 
 Youthful perception shuuld secure as many units of 
 comparison as possible. Later in life, we come to regard 
 things chiefly from the point of view in which we are 
 interested. We shall not then be apt to hunt for new 
 units, and we shall be very narrow unless reason can build 
 on a broad foundation laid in youth. Men can seldom go 
 into a new business after middle life and succeed. They 
 have no units of comparison for that special business. 
 Wrong machinery or unsalable stock is bought. The 
 unit of cost of production, or of managing the business 
 most economically, is not known in advance and is, per- 
 haps, not found out until the capital is exhausted and the 
 concern has failed.
 
 THOUGHT. 217 
 
 Variation in Standards of Comparison. The units of 
 comparison are in many cases subject to change in the' 
 short life of a single individual. The standard of enjoy- \ 
 ment varies at different times of life. The active games 
 which appeal so strongly to youth are distasteful to age. 
 Young persons are apt to like a florid, highly ornate style 
 in literature. Later, the excellence of the thought receives 
 more attention than the mere form of expression. The 
 writers which charm youth are neglected in manhood. 
 To a child, the standard by which to measure the highest 
 type of enjoyment may be the delights of Christmas and 
 the Fourth of July. Before the age of thirty, that stand- 
 ard will have changed. 
 
 A study of history shows that the standards by which 
 men and morals are judged vary from age to age. The 
 Spartan judged his children by a standard of physical ex- 
 cellence. If they possessed a certain unit of strength, 
 they were allowed to live ; if not, they were abandoned 
 on a solitary mountain side to die of hunger or to be 
 devoured by wild beasts. To-day the law imposes a moral 
 unit of excellence to allow a man to live. If he willfully 
 commits murder, the law prescribes death. Among some 
 tribes the aged were regularly killed. When they fell 
 below a standard determined by their ability to care for 
 themselves, the father and the mother were put to death. 
 
 The Roman thought it a heinous crime to enslave a 
 fellow Roman, but considered it right to enslave other 
 peoples. Centuries later it was thought wrong to enslave 
 any white man ; the color then formed the unit of com- 
 parison. Later, this standard changed, and it came to be 
 considered wrong to enslave any human being. Horses 
 and other beasts are the only creatures which it is now 
 thought right to enslave.
 
 2l8 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Burning heretics at the stake was once a sign of 
 Christian zeal. It was once considered immoral to b 
 :n debt, when that condition was associated with th 
 prison-house. 
 
 The standards by which men of our own day judge things 
 vary from race to race and from man to man. There is 
 nothing more variable, more changeable in its conclusions, 
 than thought. The Eskimo's standard for determining a 
 hot day differs from that of an inhabitant of the tropics. 
 An object may be judged heavy by a weak man, light by a 
 strong man. The loss of something that would not affect 
 one person may cause another genuine suffering. 
 
 I No one has any right to set himself up as a standard 
 by which to judge the feelings of others; and yet the 
 conceit and stupidity of human beings are such that they 
 are always doing this very thing ; their imaginations are 
 not sufficiently cultivated for them to be able to conceive 
 themselves environed in the same way that others are. 
 We can even imagine beings so constituted as to be 
 able to dwell on the sun's surface and to inhale the vapor 
 of certain molten metals borne on the winds of flaming 
 hydrogen, with as much pleasure as we breathe the fresh 
 sea air in the month of August. And yet some persons 
 feel considerable surprise, when they learn that everything 
 in the universe cannot be measured by their yardstick. 
 
 When precisely the same facts are set before the judges 
 of the supreme court, their opinions often disagree. The 
 judges are all learned men, capable of grasping the im- 
 port of testimony ; yet dissenting opinions are frequently 
 expressed. From one set of facts A concludes one thing, 
 while B concludes directly the opposite. If this is the 
 case, what reliance can be put on thought ? At one time 
 it was considered the proper course, by some doctors, to
 
 THOUGHT. 219 
 
 bleed a patient, although others decided that every drop 
 of blood ought to be saved. Some persons think a fever 
 ought to be starved ; others, that it ought to be fed. 
 Some say that all logic points toward free trade ; others, 
 toward protection. Some declare that free silver coinage 
 is necessary to the prosperity of a country; others are 
 sure that the opposite is the fact. 
 
 It must be admitted that thought has no rigid boundary 
 lines. It is fortunate that such is the case. Wer^ the 
 contrary true, were thought conclusions not subject to 
 change, man could never have advanced from barbarism to 
 civilization. An eclipse would always have been a monster 
 seeking to devour the sun. A comet would always have 
 portended disease and death. Men would have been 
 satisfied with the conveyance which horses furnished. 
 None of the great reformers would have arisen. No 
 Columbus would have crossed the ocean. The men who 
 have moved the world on in the line of progress, the 
 geniuses, have ever thought differently from their fel- 
 lows. Those countries, in which the people have been so 
 ground down by despotism that all originality and dis- 
 similarity of thought have been destroyed, are the least 
 progressive. 
 
 The learned judges render a different decision on the 
 same testimony because their experience in life has been 
 different, and consequently the same testimony is looked 
 at from a different point of view. When studying apper- 
 ception, we saw that the same thing impressed different 
 people in very different ways. A very little testimony, 
 that coincides with a man's own experience, will sway him 
 more than a vast amount which has no points of attach- 
 ment to his mind. If he has children, anything affecting 
 the status of a child will appeal to him more powerfully
 
 220 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 than if he has none. Though false theories concerning 
 science, government, or life may prevail for a while, yet 
 Jnith^is capable of fighting a long battle without tiring, 
 and shpWina jfl fljg f nrl The poet uttered a great truth 
 when he sang : 
 
 " Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, 
 And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns." 
 
 BELIEF. 
 
 Belief Emotional as well as Intellectual. Belief is a 
 
 mental state which might as well be classed under emotion 
 as under thinking, for it combines both elements. Belief 
 is part inference from the known to the unknown, and part 
 feeling or emotion. Wherever the proof of anything is 
 not absolute, but where the probability seems to our minds 
 to be of the strongest kind, we are said to believe. 
 
 We can absolutely prove much that has occurred in the 
 past. It is not a matter of belief, but of absolute knowl- 
 edge, that a certain building was burned, that a certain 
 man died, that it rained yesterday, that there was ice last 
 winter. When we come to consider the future, we are 
 thrown more on a state of belief. From the thought 
 processes involved in comparing and inferring, we find 
 ourselves feeling more or less sure that certain things 
 will happen in the future. Ask a farmer who is sowing 
 a certain crop if he is absolutely sure that sufficient rain 
 will fall for the crop ; and he will reply that he is not sure, 
 but that he believes there will be rain. . 
 
 In religious matters, men frequently say that they want 
 absolute proof, not belief or faith. If these men acted 
 on this principle in business life, but little business would 
 be done by them. No national bank stock would be
 
 THOUGHT. 221 
 
 bought ; in fact, no investments of any kind would be 
 made, because there could bje no absolute proof that the 
 bank would not fail or the investments not result in loss. 
 No private individual or company would ever engage in 
 business, because there could be no proof that the under- 
 taking would not fail. A large amount of the world's 
 traffic is done on credit, and that is nothing other than 
 a belief that the debtor will pay. The morning after the 
 first wave of a panic rolls over . a country, there may not 
 be a dollar less of money in it ; but there is less confi- 
 dence, trust, faith, belief, or whatever other synonymous 
 word we may choose to apply to the mental state of the 
 business community. 
 
 So long as the world does not stagnate, it will always 
 act on belief in the most weighty matters, whether of 
 religion or of businessy <>/ 
 
 REFERENCES. 
 
 1 . Jevons's Lessons in Logic is an excellent book for every one to 
 familiarize himself with. 
 
 2. For additional examples, see Romanes's Animal Intelligence, 
 which has furnished a number of the illustrations in the section.
 
 , CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 
 
 #/ 
 
 Study of Relations. A large part of the chapters on 
 the cultivation of the memory and the imagination was 
 devoted to the cultivation of thought. It is impossible 
 to train one mental power correctly without cultivating 
 others at the same time. What has already been said in 
 regard to thought culture need not be repeated here. 
 
 Some one has truly said that civilization is only another 
 term for thinking. Civilization is just as much a product 
 of thought as is an abstract quality like purity or redness. 
 Men have always busied themselves with the study of rela- 
 tions, and the march of civilization has proceeded in the 
 direction marked out by their discovery. We cannot tell 
 how long the wool on the sheep's back appeared to the 
 mind to be unrelated to human clothing; but we do know 
 that man has become a master of changing climates, 
 far in advance of the beasts. This advantage is largely 
 due to the discovery of the comparative conductivity of 
 heat in wool, cotton, and furs, and the relation which this 
 variation bears to their value as clothing at different tem- 
 peratures. Weaving and spinning machines are examples 
 of the use in combination of intricately related mechanical 
 forces. 
 
 The first practical rule for the cultivation of the think- 
 ing powers is : Be ever on the hunt for/vrelations. The 
 only way in which the world can advance is by finding out 
 
 222
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 223 
 
 new relations between things. He who discovers these 
 new relations is a benefactor to his race. Petroleum was 
 long unused. Its relations to light, heat, and lubrication 
 had not been discovered. When the earth becomes well- 
 nigh denuded of its forests and the supply of coal is ex- 
 hausted, some new relations will probably be discovered 
 between other forces in the universe. Perhaps the dis- 
 covery may result in a new method of changing vibrations 
 into heat ; perhaps the wasted energy of a summer sun 
 may be preserved and liberated in the winter ; perhaps 
 some easier way may be discovered of disuniting the hydro- 
 gen and oxygen in water, and the very ocean may be used 
 for fuel. 
 
 The power of detecting the very first thought relation, 
 that of identity, is still in its infancy. Not until recently 
 has the identity of electricity with vibrations in the ether 
 been discovered. The person who is on the hunt for rela- 
 tions under all circumstances may be sure that he is on the 
 only royal road leading to thought culture. 
 
 Many an inventor, projector, or financier has failed, not 
 because his schemes were not good as isolated projects, 
 but because they were not sufficiently closely related to 
 human needs. A so-called crank becomes ridiculous be- 
 cause he will not study general conditions sufficiently to 
 see that his hobby cannot be brought into practical rela- 
 tions with them. No matter what a man's business is, the 
 close study of relations is all-important for his success. 
 
 Some capitalists built a street-car line in a certain town, 
 without sufficiently considering the number that would 
 probably travel each day and comparing that number with 
 the daily expenses, without reflecting on the sources of the 
 town's growth and the direction that its expansion would 
 take. After a struggle the company failed. It is well for
 
 224 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 the learner to note the precise grounds of failure, to realize 
 that it was due to lack of fully thinking out things in their 
 relation to other things. There was no failure in building 
 the line. That was perfectly feasible. Street-car lines 
 had been built again and again. Horses or electricity 
 could draw the cars ; conductors could be found. But the 
 expense of building and running the line did not stand in 
 the proper relation to the number of people who would 
 ride, nor was the direction of the line properly related to 
 the suburban growth of the place. 
 
 The promoters of a new town built some rather ex- 
 pensive dwellings at the start and lost heavily on them, 
 because the relation of the locality to the class of people 
 who would live there had not been studied. A little 
 reflection might have shown workingmen to be the only 
 probable inhabitants, and they could afford only inexpen- 
 sive dwellings. 
 
 Whenever one learns a new thing, apparently unrelated 
 to any other part of his knowledge, he should make haste 
 to form connections. In doing this, he will think. 
 
 Accuracy of Concepts. As a foundation for thinking, 
 it is necessary to form not only concepts, but accurate 
 concepts. For instance, every person probably has some 
 idea of chivalry. Let him ask himself to enumerate the 
 qualities in that concept. There will probably pass before 
 his mind knights clad in steel armor, a tournament or a 
 battlefield, great deference to ladies, conflicts in behalf of 
 the weak, strong castles, etc. A concept of chivalry con- 
 taining only such ideas would be very faulty. A half truth 
 may be as bad as a lie. No accurate inferences concerning 
 chivalry could be made from such a concept. The great 
 Edward I. of England was certainly better than the average
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 22$ 
 
 knight. When he and the English were fighting the 
 French, the wounded French knights were, indeed, ten- 
 derly cared for by their enemies, but the peasants and 
 the common foot soldiers were knocked in the head. 
 Chivalry taught the knight to be courteous to his equals 
 and superiors ; he might treat the others as he chose. 
 When the French king and his nobles were captured by 
 that type of a chivalrous knight, the Black Prince, he 
 invited them to supper and waited on his noble prisoners 
 with his own hands. At another time, he killed off like 
 sheep the common people in a French town. The knight 
 repeatedly stole the crops, animals, and labor of the com- 
 mon people. 
 
 After one has formed an accurate concept of chivalry, 
 he ought to be able to see how the French Revolution was 
 its logical outcome, and how strikes to-day are sometimes 
 due to analogous causes. He ought, then, to detect iden- 
 tical qualities in certain institutions of to-day. He may 
 observe that the polite officers or stockholders in a trust 
 may be very chivalrous to their wealthy equals ; while the 
 poor, who have been made to pay the trust's prices, may 
 be caused actual suffering. The person who forms his 
 concepts in this thorough way and then traces out rela- 
 tions between them and other concepts, is thinking, and 
 thinking hard. 
 
 Language ready made for our memories has done much 
 to cripple thought. No one should ever use a term with- 
 out being able to form the clearest possible concept of it. 
 " The church is built of granite." The speaker ought to 
 be able to give a definition of granite. A definition merely 
 sets forth the essential qualities in anything. There are 
 persons who will speak of brass, bronze, and steel, without 
 knowing whether they are simple metals and without
 
 226 - PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 being able to define them. Such concepts of brass, bronze, 
 and steel are not worth much. The young who alloy? 
 themselves to form indefinite concepts, will not be accurate 
 thinkers. In their old age, they will perhaps talk about 
 psychology and metaphysics without being able to tell the 
 difference between the two. As a practical rule, we should 
 form a clear concept of every term ; we should define it, 
 and then we should notice all possible relations between 
 it and other concepts. 
 
 Classification. Whenever a person is comparing a 
 specimen to see whether it may be put in the same class 
 with other specimens, he is thinking. Comparison is an 
 absolutely essential factor of thought, and classification 
 demands comparison. The man who has not properly 
 classified the myriad individual objects with which he has 
 to deal must advance like a cripple. He, only, can travel 
 with seven league boots, who has thought out the relations 
 existing between these stray individuals and put them into 
 their proper classes. In a minute, a business man may 
 put his hand on any one of ten thousand letters, if they 
 are properly classified. In the same way, the student of 
 history, sociology, or any other branch, can, if he studies 
 the subjects aright, have all his knowledge classified and 
 speedily available for use. 
 
 The greatest care must be exercised in making classi- 
 fications. Accurate perception and careful comparison are 
 absolutely necessary. The science of zoology furnishes 
 a striking example of important changes in classification, 
 because the former classifications were founded upon insuf- 
 ficient investigation and comparison. At different periods, 
 zoologists have made various classifications of animals, 
 differing in very essential particulars from the present
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 22? 
 
 one, which divides all animals into eight great subking 
 doms: Protozoa, consisting of the very lowest forms of 
 animal life, many of which were formerly placed under 
 plants ; Polystomata, or sponges ; Coelenterata, or corals 
 and polyps ; Echinodermata, including jelly fishes and sea 
 anemones ; Vermes, or worms ; Mollusca, including oysters, 
 snails, etc. ; Arthropoda, including lobsters, insects, etc. ; 
 and Vertebrata, including the highest forms of animal life. 
 These subkingdoms have been formed after close examina- 
 tion of all known animal life, and the student now deter- 
 mines to which subkingdom a given specimen belongs by 
 comparing its features with the characterizing features of 
 the various branches. Should an animal be discovered 
 which could not be classified under one of these sub- 
 kingdoms, a new subkingdom would have to be formed 
 for it. 
 
 The broad distinctions in this most general classifica- 
 tion of animals instance, in a remarkable way, the great 
 power of a thinking mind to discover the relations of iden- 
 tity in superficially dissimilar animals and their organs. 
 It certainly took an unusually thoughtful mind to trace 
 the similarity in mammals, birds, reptiles, batrachians, and 
 fishes, and to place all these various classes of animals in 
 the subkingdom of vertebrata ; and also to see the iden- 
 tity between the fins of a fish, the wings of a bird, and the 
 arms of a man. 
 
 The method of classification in zoology will furnish an 
 example of how the student should go to work to classify the 
 various phenomena which present themselves to him. He 
 should always begin with the broad, major classifications, 
 and proceed from them to the more narrow and specialized 
 ones. Thus, if a certain animal is to be classified, the 
 student should first determine to which of the eight sub
 
 228 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 kingdoms it belongs. Then he should proceed to the next 
 lower group (the class), and, if the animal is a vertebrate, 
 determine whether it is a mammal, bird, reptile, batrachian, 
 or fish. After this, the order, family, genus, species, and 
 variety should successively be ascertained. 
 
 It is a good plan to notice how the addition of a differ- 
 entiating quality to a class further subdivides that class. 
 For instance, a class of greater extent, plus the differen- 
 tiating quality or qualities, equals a narrower class. For 
 example : animal + a backbone = vertebrate ; vertebrate 
 + the quality of breathing by lungs + bringing forth 
 young alive + suckling the young = mammal (class) ; 
 mammal -f flesh-eating = carnivore (order). The family, 
 genus, species, and variety may be represented in like 
 manner. 
 
 In this way, we may make our knowledge of the world 
 more minutely exact. We cannot classify without seeing 
 things under a new aspect. 
 
 The Search for Analogies. In argument or reasoning 
 we are much aided by the habit of searching for hidden 
 resemblances. We may here use the term analogy in the 
 narrower sense as a resemblance of ratios. There is ana- 
 logical relation between autumnal frosts and vegetation on 
 the one hand, and death and human life on the other. 
 Frosts stand in the same relation to vegetation that death 
 does to life. The detection of such a relation cultivates 
 thought. 
 
 If we are to succeed in argument, we must develop what 
 some call a sixth sense for the detection of such relations. 
 Suppose the question of woman suffrage is under discus- 
 sion. A woman has to pay a tax on a large tract of 
 ground. The voters in her township meet to decide
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 229 
 
 whether a new road shall be laid out, which will cause a 
 heavy increase in the tax rate. A man without a cent 
 may vote ; the woman cannot. Now, an analogical mind 
 will at once remember why the Revolution broke out, and 
 the watchword, "No taxation without representation," will 
 be thought of. If some chivalrous men say that they, by 
 their votes, will give what they consider fair representation 
 to the woman, they may be reminded that the English said 
 the same thing to the colonists ; but the colonists insisted 
 on representing themselves. If an opponent abandons 
 that phase of the argument, but insists that woman's suf- 
 frage was tried somewhere for two years without proving a 
 glittering success, another search must be made for anal- 
 ogous instances. An apprentice in learning how to use 
 tools cannot be expected to use them well at first. Almost 
 all revolutions have been immediately followed by a worse 
 state of affairs. 
 
 John Stuart Mill, in his essay on The Subjection of 
 Women, deals the strongest blows from analogy. If it is 
 said that the various professions ought not to be thrown 
 open to women because they are unfitted for them, the 
 reply is that a law ought then to be passed deterring men 
 from employing a blacksmith with a weak right arm. If it 
 is objected that such a law would be silly, for natural com- 
 petition would exclude such a blacksmith, the retort is that 
 a law keeping woman out of any of the professions is silly, 
 for if she is not fitted for them competition will drive her 
 out. If it is urged that she will become fitted at the 
 expense of feminine qualities, the reply is that nature is 
 powerful enough to attend to that without artificial restric- 
 tions. A cat may be fond of fish, but it is unnecessary to 
 fence in the ponds for fear the cats will rush in and either 
 drown themselves or usurp the sphere of ducks. The
 
 230 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 feline nature is strong enough to keep the cat where it 
 belongs. Exceptions to the rule will perish without exert- 
 ing any lasting influence. 
 
 Many false analogies are manufactured, and it is excel- 
 lent thought training to expose them. The majority of 
 people think so little that they swallow false analogies 
 just as newly fledged robins swallow small stones dropped 
 into their open mouths. An American wrote home from 
 abroad that our country was much richer than England 
 and might just as well as not have roads as excellent as 
 those in England. His remarks were widely applauded 
 by the unthinking. England is about the size of Alabama. 
 If the United States occupied an area proportionately 
 small to her population, she could have equally good 
 roads. If she had them now over her broad domains, 
 her people would stagger under a debt that would inca- 
 pacitate them for other things. If a person said we were 
 arguing that we should not have better roads, he would be 
 incapable of apprehending the relation of identity ; for that 
 is not the principle involved in the discussion. 
 
 This tendency to think as others do must be resisted 
 somewhere along the line, or there can be no progress. 
 When Dr. Johnson was asked if a great prose writer could 
 also be a great poet, the Doctor replied : " Certainly ; a 
 man can walk as far east as west." The analogy is false. 
 The same muscular movements will enable a man to walk 
 in either direction ; the same faculty will not enable him 
 <o write both prose and poetry. 
 
 The study of poetry may be made very serviceable in 
 detecting analogies and cultivating the reasoning powers. 
 When the poet brings clearly to mind the change due to 
 death, using as an illustration the caterpillar body trans- 
 formed into the butterfly spirit, moving with winged ease
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 231 
 
 over flowering meadows, he is cultivating our apprehen- 
 sion of relations, .none the less y_aluable_because they are 
 beautiful 
 
 y ^x 
 
 Xvv/Br 
 
 readth O f Thought Culture. Success in this complex 
 world demands breadth of thought. When we come to 
 engage in active work, our mental force will probably be 
 almost entirely concentrated upon it. If_a_iiroad.fouada>p- 
 lion is not laid early, it will never be obtained; for the ' 
 cares of life put us in a treadmill ; they may permit us to 
 think on foundations already laid, but we shall be allowed 
 to build no new ones. " We shall then think in ruts ; and 
 it will be well if they extend in many different directions. 
 
 Some of the most eminent practitioners of medicine 
 have said that it is dangerous for patients to go to a 
 specialist at first, because he is apt to see in them the 
 complaint which he treats, and not see the remote cause of 
 the complaint. The best specialists are those who have 
 acquired wide experience in general practice, for then they 
 can take a broader view of the field of disease. If a 
 student entered a professional school at once, instead of 
 going through college, he would not have laid the founda- 
 tions for broad thinking. A lawyer trained to think to 
 the thirty-two points of the compass will often scent 
 danger, and see points invisible to the less cultivated, 
 which will enable him to win cases. A business man 
 who has a general knowledge of affairs will detect a flaw 
 in an enterprise before he has invested, and not, like the 
 majority, see the flaw too late. 
 
 A man of wide culture and experience said that he had 
 learned that men skilled merely in their own profession 
 needed close supervision. He invariably remained to 
 watch plumbers, carpenters, and other mechanics engaged
 
 232 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 upon his house. They were accustomed to thinking in 
 such a narrow rut that he was often able, from appre- 
 hending broader relations, to tell them how to do their 
 work better, or why a certain plan would not be practical. 
 He said that he had found that even a plumber was worth 
 double wages, if he was a broad thinker. This cultivated 
 man was a college graduate ; and, though a business man, 
 he declared that all his knowledge, from chemistry .and 
 physics on the one hand, to political economy and psy- 
 chology on the other, enabled him to conduct his business 
 more successfully. 
 
 It has often been said that to know one thing thoroughly 
 would be to know the entire universe, for everything has 
 either direct or indirect relations to all other things. One 
 thing never means anything except in relation to other 
 things, and the more various its relations, the more it 
 means to us. Mr. Gladstone made a better statesman 
 because his diverse knowledge enabled him to see all sides 
 of a question. The Iliad and the Odyssey, which he studied 
 so carefully, seem a long way from the science of modern 
 government, yet he obtained many helpful hints from them. 
 There is always an educating relation between any two 
 things, if a mind is acute enough to perceive it. Such 
 an intellect can mine gold anywhere. 
 
 Thought Culture and Individuality. There are many 
 persons to whom the epithets, "fickle" and "rattle-brained," 
 are very properly applied. An idea on any one subject 
 is never detained in their minds long enough for them to 
 become acquainted with it. No one ever knows how to 
 forecast their conduct, because no one can foretell what 
 dominant idea will happen to control them at any given 
 time. Stability of characte is erected on a foundation of
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 333 
 
 definite thought. To secure this, does not require one to 
 tie himself down for life to a single idea or subject ; but 
 he must study whatever he takes up, until he has firmly 
 grasped its relations to other subjects. 
 
 Fickleness is the great enemy of thought culture, and 
 of a knowledge of self. The ideas in the minds of many 
 change so often that they have no consecutive and deter- 
 minate self ; in consequence, no one, not even themselves, 
 can place dependence upon their actions in any given case., 
 
 Effect of Novel Reading on Thought. For proper nutri- 
 tion, it is necessary that food should remain a certain 
 length of time in the stomach. Digestion, mental or phys- 
 ical, takes time. Ideas must be kept in the mind until 
 their relations to other ideas can be thought out. No 
 mental nutriment can be received from them if they pass 
 through the mind at a galloping pace. In our study of 
 memory, we saw that rapidly skimming over a subject to 
 pass an examination brought no permanent results, because 
 things did not stay long enough before the mind for it to 
 connect them to other things by their relations. Acquisi- 
 tions of this sort speedily pass out of the mind. 
 
 The rapid devouring of novels is fatal to thought. No 
 idea is allowed to linger ; the mind rushes on from one 
 exciting scene to another in as quick succession as possible, 
 ever calling for more excitement. One novel is finished 
 and another begun. No time is left for perfect digestion. 
 The circulation of many general libraries averages eighty 
 per cent of fiction. They deserve to be known as aiders 
 and abettors in killing thought. The minds of inveterate 
 novel readers are apt soon to become so unsuited to severe 
 thought, that they regard it with as much aversion as a 
 rheumatic person does a foot race.
 
 234 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 How Fiction May Serve to Cultivate Thought. Since 
 fiction is certain to be widely read, it is important to know 
 how it may be made to cultivate the thinking powers. If 
 persons would read a novel with the same care as a history, 
 as much mental discipline might result. Every move of 
 the character in fiction ought to be compared with actions 
 in real life. Would real persons develop new emotions 
 and change old ones as quickly and for the same reasons 
 as those on the printed page ? The principle of comparison 
 between the fictitious and the real may be brought in at 
 every step. Thought consists essentially in comparing, in 
 noting likenesses and differences; and it cannot be re- 
 peated too often that all mental exercise of this sort tends 
 to cultivate thought in the only true way. 
 
 Again, after finishing one chapter, the reader ought to 
 endeavor to forecast the following chapter. When the 
 hero and heroine are plunged into difficulties, or the action 
 seems in general to be taking the wrong course, the reader 
 should lay down his book and ask himself how he would 
 set things right, how he would avoid a certain catastrophe. 
 By so doing, he will develop the power of constructive 
 thought. This practice would serve him in good stead in 
 the actual difficulties of his own life. He would think his 
 way out of trouble quicker. When he found himself in a 
 corner, his nimble-witted mind might suggest several 
 alternatives of escape, while one who had not thus trained 
 his thinking power might see no way out until too late. 
 Many a lawyer, doctor, business man, has said to him 
 self : " If I could only have seen that other alternative 
 before the case was lost, the patient dead, the enterprise 
 ruined." 
 
 It would be considerable trouble to read a novel in the 
 way indicated, to forecast each chapter, and to devise as
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 235 
 
 many ways as possible of unraveling the plot; but the 
 results would be worth the trouble. It is always more 
 work to mine gold than coal. If one who has read his 
 fiction in this way will go out into the world and keep up 
 such practice when confronted with real difficulties, he will 
 forge ahead of those companions who started with the 
 same ability. This world demands for success not only 
 plenty of thought, but quickness of thought. More than 
 half the world thinks after it is too late. How often do 
 we hear people exclaiming, " I wish I had thought of that 
 in season." One ought not to expect to do anything 
 quickly without special practice in that direction. Even 
 the hands will not move nimbly over the piano keys with- 
 out frequent practice. 
 
 The novels of Scott, Dickens, Reade, Collins, are, many 
 of them, no less remarkable for their insight into human 
 nature than for the ingenuity of their plots. In these 
 they are immeasurably superior to the majority of later 
 writers. These older authors will furnish plenty of ma- 
 terial for the exercise of constructive thought. When one 
 wishes to study the evolution of human character in its 
 various phases, and to compare the development indicated 
 by the author, with the course of such development in 
 actual life, he will find the novels of Thackeray, Haw- 
 thorne, and George Eliot superior for that purpose. Let 
 the student read Vanity Fair and then write an essay on 
 the development of Becky Sharp's character and compare 
 it with Amelia Sedley's. After finishing Romola, let him 
 trace the growth of the differing emotions in the leading 
 characters and institute close comparison between them, 
 noting the likenesses and the differences. If studied as 
 we have indicated, fiction will, in its own way, be as ser- 
 viceable as mathematics for training thought.
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Influence of Thought Culture on Character. The cause 
 of morals has no more powerful aid than the thinking 
 faculty. Many persons are selfishly inconsiderate, and 
 cause a great deal of trouble simply because they do not 
 think. They are surprised when the results of their 
 thoughtlessness are laid clearly before them. Of course 
 it i? possible to think in order to be more rascally ; but 
 the deepest thought has ever shown that the influence of 
 the great moral laws lies in the direction of human good; 
 and history has shown, in the destruction of vast empires 
 and the backward steps in the march of progress, that 
 neglect of those laws is followed by disastrous conse- 
 quences. Animals have been treated better since man 
 was led to reflect carefully on their condition. 
 
 Consistency has been called a jewel, and it is a gem not 
 ;worn by the thoughtless. Consistency demands careful] 
 /thought, the comparison of one's present with one's past/ 
 conduct, and of one's self with others. Again, persons'* 
 often blame another for a course of action ; when a like 
 circumstance arises later, it finds them guilty of perhaps 
 worse deeds. Thoughtless people daily complain of a mote 
 in the eye of another, when there is a beam in their own. 
 
 An officer and stockholder in a trust criticised Napoleori 
 severely for selfishness and unscrupulousness in attaining 
 his own ends. The director of that trust had sought every 
 means to drive competitors to the wall. He had succeeded 
 in placing his iron heel on the neck of consumers and of 
 workmen. He had striven as unscrupulously as Napoleon 
 to make his trust absolute in power. The mosquito was 
 calling the lion bloodthirsty. 
 
 Men belonging to labor trusts object to other trusts. 
 These men band together to keep the price of labor high 
 and to restrain any competing laborer from working. He
 
 THOUGHT CULTURE. 237 
 
 may need to work for his starving children, but the labor 
 trust menaces his life and limb if he attempts to mine coal, 
 to handle freight, or to take the place of one who has left 
 his position. 
 
 Those who have not been early trained to see ail sides 
 of a question are apt to be extremely narrow, and undesir- 
 able to live with. Whenever one finds himself blaming 
 other persons, he ought immediately to recall his own acts 
 for comparison, and see if none of them is in like manner 
 blameworthy. By discovering the relation of identity in 
 this way, the thinking and the moral faculties will receive 
 some of their very best training. 
 
 Value of Special Studies. Sn far a thought cultivation! 
 
 is concerned, it makes far more difference how a subject is 
 studied than what the subject is. The study of Shake- 
 speare, or any good literature, will serve as well as mathe- 
 matics, if the student is careful to form accurate concepts 
 of every term, to link these logically together, and to note 
 all points of attachment of new knowledge to old. Special 
 studies tend to cultivate one in noting special relations 
 only. As before said, this narrowness may be avoided by 
 not specializing too early in life. 
 
 Time for Thought Culture. In recent years the ten- 
 dency has been to force the detection of obscure abstract 
 relations upon children at too early an age. A young man 
 was heard to say with considerable bitterness : " My in 
 structors compelled me to misuse my time doubly. When 
 I should have been perceiving and memorizing, they 
 worried me with difficult thinking. Now, when I should 
 be thinking, I have to spend my time perceiving and 
 memorizing to get something in my mind to think about
 
 238 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Memory work would have been fourfold easier for me then 
 /thinking is tenfold easier for me now." 
 
 In early life the detection of only the more evident 
 thought relations in perceived objects, geography, history, 
 and language, should be expected. Nature did not blunder 
 in making the faculties of perception and memory the 
 most active in youth. Deep thinking must not be required 
 until later. Sir Walter Scott says that he, early in life, 
 amassed a vast amount of facts connected by no deep 
 thought relations. He likens himself at that time to a 
 man with a good hand of cards, who neither knew their 
 value nor how to play them. Later he learned how to 
 play them with effect. Some persons would have spent 
 all their energy in learning how to play, and then they 
 would have had no cards. On the other hand, it must not 
 be forgotten that Scott's knowledge would have been of 
 no use to him, had he nyt afterwards woven it together 
 with thought relations.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 
 
 \V/^ GENERAL ASPECT OF AFFECTIVE MENTAL STATES. 
 
 Feeling. riffling rmy bft ritfiiyflj as the simple agree- 
 able or disagreeable side of gjjymental state. We can 
 interpret feeling only in terms of our own conscious 
 experience. If we have never felt pleasure, pain, fear, 
 or sorrow, a quarto volume cannot make us understand 
 what such a mental state is. 
 
 Some psychologists claim that there are states of mind 
 absolutely neutral in regard to pleasurable or painful 
 feeling, that we can feel when the feeling is neither 
 agreeable nor disagreeable. Others think that feeling 
 devoid of all pleasure or pain would resemble the play of 
 Hamlet with Hamlet left out. If there are perfectly 
 neutral feelings, they incite to nothing ; hence we may 
 pass them by hurriedly in a practical world of action. 
 
 Difference between Sensation and Feeling. So com- 
 plicated and interwoven are all the mental powers, that 
 it is difficult to isolate them for a clear view. Practical 
 experiment has, however, shown that when a corn was 
 touched with a stick, the tactile sensation was present in 
 consciousness from one to two seconds before the feeling 
 of pain. A psychologist, with his hands folded behind 
 him, was standing near a stove. As he stepped backward, 
 he came in contact with it, and he had the sensation of 
 
 239
 
 240 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 touch an appreciable time before he felt pain. The sensa- 
 tional factor enters into states of knowledge ; that of feel- 
 ing, into ejnptjon. 
 
 There is a second marked way in which we can dis- 
 tinguish sensation and feeling. By practice we assign 
 our sensations to things external to ourselves. We place 
 the color in the apple, not in our eye or mind. If some 
 one in a fit of passion throws an apple at me and causes 
 me pain, I cannot put the feeling in the apple. The feel- 
 ing is my own internal, subjective state. The sensation 
 seems more external and. objective. The apple might be 
 there if we were not there to view it ; not so the feeling. 
 My feelings belong to me ; but my sensations seem to 
 belong to the object which caused them. 
 
 Importance of Feeling. The phenomena of the world 
 have value for us only in so far as they affect our feelings. 
 If a thing fails to interest us, that is, fails to touch our feel- 
 ings at any point, we pass that thing by unheeded. Much 
 of what people say to us passes in at one ear and out at the 
 other; but if we are told of the death of a parent, the 
 effect of the announcement may never pass away. Our 
 feelings have been touched, and we shall never again be 
 the same persons. A studied insult or a signal triumph 
 affects us more powerfully than many other things, only 
 because it appeals more deeply to feeling. Decisions in 
 this world are generally, at last, made at the bar of feeling. 
 It is a severer impeachment to say that a person outrages 
 our feelings than that he is illogical. 
 
 How Feelings Differ.. Feeling is the most illusive and 
 changeable of all the mental powers. In this it resembles 
 the classical Proteus, or the clouds at sunset. Neverthe-
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 241 
 
 less, feeling has certain prominent characteristics which 
 serve to mark its varied changes. 
 
 Feelings differ (i) in quality, (2) in intensity, and (3) 
 according to whether they attach themselves to chang- 
 ing bodily states or to ideas. 
 
 Quality of Feelings. The first attribute of feeling to 
 force itself on our attention is a pleasurable or painful 
 quality. The moment that quinine is placed upon the 
 tongue, the bitter taste is painful to most of us. In 
 connection with a sensation from candy or some choice 
 fruit, we experience a feeling of pleasure. Life is largely 
 a struggle to secure a pleasurable quality in feeling and to 
 rush away from a painful attribute. Almost any one will 
 go to a window to look at a bright rainbow, because it 
 gives him pleasure. We do not look straight at the sun 
 because we wish to avoid a painful feeling. Many of us 
 dislike to see ulcers or deformity for the same reason. 
 
 In addition to the pleasurable or painful element, some 
 would say that feeling was distinguished by another qual- 
 ity, that of neutrality, of the absence of either pleasure or 
 pain. It is said that when we are sitting in our chairs, we 
 often experience neither pleasure nor pain ; that when we 
 are slightly surprised, the feeling may be neutral. The 
 mere fact that this is a disputed point shows that such 
 feelings are not obtrusive. If there are such, they will 
 never become powerful motive factors in our conscious 
 lives. 
 
 Pleasure and pain are such important characteristics 
 that we must consider them at greater length. 
 
 Relation of Nervous Action to Pleasure and Pain. 
 Whenever the nervous system has stored force, or a sur- 
 
 HAI.IJKK'S PSYC. 1 6
 
 242 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 plus of energy, at its disposal, pleasure results from work- 
 ing this off in a normal way. There is also 'pleasure in 
 recuperation, or in accumulating nervous force up to a 
 certain degree. 
 
 Youthful muscles and nerve cells are repositories of 
 force. The young resort to games in which muscular 
 activity is the most prominent feature, because working 
 off this surplus energy results in pleasure. When one 
 is tired, pleasure comes from merely sitting down to 
 rest. Force begins to accumulate, and contrast is here 
 efficient in causing a pleasurable glow of feeling. Con- 
 trast draws the attention elsewhere, and thereby involves 
 the use of force stored in some other part of the nervous 
 system ; hence a new kind of pleasure is coincident with 
 working off this different surplus. Whenever the nervous 
 system is stimulated to action which calls for more than 
 the surplus force, pain results. Pain also follows the lack 
 of a proper outlet for this stored force. 
 
 If we keep on walking after the muscles are fatigued, 
 they will pain us. Make any one sit still without exercise 
 for a considerable period, and pain will result because the 
 stored nervous force, like water running against a milldam, 
 demands outlet. This pain will be severe in proportion 
 to the potential energy. It will be much more irksome 
 for a child than for an older person to sit still. This 
 stored force gorges the system, forcing certain parts to 
 overwork, to make amends for lack of outlet. This over- 
 work causes pain in special parts of the nervous system 
 after their stored force has been expended in trying to 
 keep the repressed energy within normal bounds. 
 
 Dissipation of any kind, which breaks down nerve tissue 
 faster than it is built up, is certain to result in pain. On 
 the other hand, mentally initiated emotions, such as worry,
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 243 
 
 fear, and grief, have broken down brain cells and sent per- 
 sons to the insane asylum. 
 
 Physiological chemistry has proved that mental work 
 is accompanied by nervous waste, and that there must 
 be periods of repose to supply this waste. After any of 
 the pronounced mental emotions, this waste is especially 
 apparent. Two eminent physiologists unite in saying : 
 " From various considerations it is certain that pain is 
 always the result of a change in the nerve cells of the 
 brain." It must be remembered that pain initiated by 
 purely mental causes reacts on brain cells and tends to 
 weaken them, while mental pleasure involves the use of 
 stored nerve energy. 
 
 Even the most complex states of feeling and ideal 
 emotion are profoundly modified by nervous action. If 
 it could be shown that they were ever started by an idea 
 without the aid of a nerve cell, they would yet depend on 
 the nervous system for the prolongation of their states. 
 When the nerves were utterly exhausted, they would no 
 longer respond to the idea, and fainting or unconsciousness 
 might ensue. Asceticism taught the neglect of the body. 
 The physiological psychology of the emotions commands 
 its most careful nurture. 
 
 Change of Pleasure into Pain and of Pain into Pleasure. 
 We have seen that pleasure accompanies the expendi- 
 ture of potential nervous energy. Since all finite energy is 
 limited in amount, the fountain finally becomes exhausted. 
 If actions involving further expenditure are persisted in, 
 there is pain. Indulgence in any pleasurable action be4 
 yond the limit of this stored force is followed by pain. \ 
 
 The converse is not true, that painful action beyond 
 a certain limit will bring pleasure ; hence, pain seems to
 
 244 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 have the advantage. There is, however, a truth that we 
 must not overlook : Our pleasures in many cases are the 
 result of preceding painful or disagreeable action. If we 
 push activity slightly beyond the point where pleasure 
 ceases and pain makes its appearance, we shall find that 
 the nervous system has an inherent power of growth, or 
 of enlarging its storage facilities. A slight degree of pain 
 is often a necessary antecedent to that growth. In this 
 way pleasure extends its boundary lines, for the increased 
 growth affords additional pleasure. Suppose a boy finds 
 pleasure in pulling himself overhand up eight rounds of a 
 ladder. If he does not pass beyond this point, he will not 
 develop his possibilities. Let him take ten rounds to-day, 
 and he will soon find that his capacity for additional pleas- 
 urable exertion has increased. He may come to ascend 
 thirty rounds without a feeling of pain. The entrance to 
 most studies is attended with painful labor; but after a 
 while they become sources of positive pleasure. It has 
 been well said that acquired tastes are so many acquired 
 ways of getting pleasure from things which were once dis- 
 tasteful. Raw oysters, tomatoes, and pickled olives are 
 physical instances. Many studies furnish mental illus- 
 trations. 
 
 Effect of Pronounced Pains upon the Nervous System. 
 After what has been said in the preceding section, 
 the caution should be given that although pain may be 
 sometimes necessary, it is to be viewed only in the light 
 of a necessary evil, or as a warning that we are beginning 
 to overstep the bounds of proper exercise. Pain tends to 
 break down and disintegrate the nerve cells in the brain, 
 and to render the sufferer unfit to do his best in any line 
 of work. Physicians tell us that the painful element in
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 245 
 
 emotions is a potent factor in destroying the integrity of 
 the nervous system and in permanently impairing the 
 health. Grant Allen makes a statement in the main true, 
 when he says : " Pain is the subjective concomitant of 
 destructive action or insufficient nutrition in any sen- 
 tient tissue." 
 
 When we consider the long and dark pathway which 
 human beings have trod, we can see why the survival of 
 the race demanded pleasure and pain as primitive psychical 
 elements. When man was barbarous, he frequently had 
 only pleasurable feelings to tell him what course to take, 
 while painful ones warned him what path to shun. Pain 
 and pleasure are probably the first elements that stand out 
 most distinctly and forcibly in the infant's consciousness. 
 The child does not have to learn what pleasure and pain 
 are. It is not necessary to teach him that a burn is pain- 
 ful. Had pleasure and pain not been the most emphatic 
 parts of the earliest human experience, the race would 
 have perished. 
 
 Intensity of Feeling. There is a quantitative as well 
 as a qualitative difference in feeling. The discomfort 
 from the bite of a mosquito is not so massive as the pain 
 from a large bruise or a broken limb. Any boy would say 
 that a heaping teaspoonful of ice cream would give him 
 more pleasure than an amount the size of a pea. Within 
 certain narrow limits, the intensity of the feeling is pro- 
 portional to the intensity of the stimulus. 
 
 One of the most important factors in rha"g''"g fh? 
 intensity nf IWh'ng it fhp rhiraHnn nf t^f sHmiiliig A 
 
 continued stimulus of the same kind soon dulls nervous 
 sensibility. This is regained in full measure only when the 
 stimulus is changed or intermitted for a time. The noise
 
 346 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 in a cooperage or boiler-maker's shop is almost distracting 
 for a while, but the workmen soon cease to mind the din. 
 On entering an apothecary's shop, we observe a character- 
 istic odor, but the clerks do not notice it. Nervous 
 energy for any kind of response is limited. If the stimu- 
 lation is continuous, the response must become gradually 
 less energetic. Before vigor can be restored, there must 
 be a period of rest sufficient to build up the impaired 
 tissue. We may even say with Hoffding : " No constant 
 state, but only a change effected with a certain sudden- 
 ness, calls to life a nerve process. . . . By a very gradual 
 increase or decrease of temperature, a frog may be boiled 
 or frozen to death without making the smallest movement." 
 
 Jx^ v> 
 Sense Feelings Contrasted with Ideal Feelings. Feel- 
 ~. & 's rise in two ways: (i) A peripheral excitation for 
 instance, the sting of a bee results in a pronounced feel- 
 ing of pain. The sight of autumnal foliage, the sound of 
 a melody, a caressing touch, may furnish cases where sim- 
 ple nerve pleasure is the most pronounced element. Of 
 course these must affect the mind before conscious pleas- 
 ure can be felt, and so in that sense the feeling may be 
 called mental ; but the pleasure is the result of immediate 
 external stimulation of some sense organ. Not only the 
 special senses, but any vital organ, muscle, or nerve may 
 be the cause of feeling. 
 
 (2) Feelings may be caused by an idea. The remem- 
 brance of an insult, of an act of unkindness, of a wrong 
 done, may cause acute feeling. The memory of his dead 
 mother's face caused the stolid Nero pain. There may be 
 no immediately preceding change in the sense organ when 
 an idea flashes into the mind, but the feeling may be just 
 as pronounced as if there were. Shakespeare classified the 
 
 ^
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 247 
 
 feelings as the sensuous and the ideal, when he repre- 
 sented the pain inflicted by the wintry wind less severe 
 than the memory of man's ingratitude. 
 
 At the same time the ideal feelings rest indirectly on 
 sensory foundations. A representative idea is a revived 
 sensation, or a complex of revived sensations. A presenta- 
 tive idea is a compound of the intellectual factors of sensa- 
 tion and of feeling. When we plunge the hand into very 
 hot water, we have first a tactile sensation of something 
 denser than air, and, second, a feeling of pain. Probably 
 the same brain tract that figured in the original sensation 
 is active in memory. The reawakened action in the same 
 nerve cells would reproduce the feeling as well as the sen- 
 sation, with varying degrees of distinctness. Shakespeare 
 voiced the most advanced psychology, when he had Mac- 
 beth doubtfully ask the doctor whether he could 
 
 " Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain ." 
 
 Feelings Differ Qualitatively and Quantitatively Ac- 
 cording to the Idea. It is plain that some ideas cause 
 a joyful, others a sorrowful, mental state, and that joy and 
 sorrow differ in the quality of feeling. As we read the 
 pages of David Copperfield or Oliver Twist, the constantly 
 changing ideas usher in the emotions of joy, fear, love, 
 anger, sympathy, and the feeling element in each of these 
 emotions is qualitatively different. When little Oliver 
 Twist is stolen from his kind benefactor and taken to a 
 den of thieves ; when he is made to accompany them on a 
 housebreaking expedition ; when he is left insensible with 
 an arm mangled by a pistol shot ; when he weakly totters 
 back to the house where he was compelled to make the 
 attempt at robbery; when a woman standing by the bed-
 
 248 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 side of the little sleeping sufferer lets fall upon his face 
 a tear, which causes a smile to appear as if he were dream- 
 ing of his mother, we are conscious that our feelings 
 differ in quality as the ideas change. 
 
 The following example will show how ideas may cause 
 feelings to vary quantitatively. If, as we look out of our 
 window, we see a child run over, our feeling will change 
 in quantity according as we form an idea that the child 
 has been killed, that one of his limbs has been torn off, or 
 that he has escaped with only a few scratches. Our feel- 
 ing always varies quantitatively according as the idea has 
 a more or less pleasurable or painful element. 
 
 The Rise and the Decline of Feeling. There are two 
 factors which determine the rise and the decline of feel- 
 ing : (i) Feeling will increase up to a given point in pro- 
 portion to the intensity of the stimuli acting upon the 
 nerves. We have already seen that we may class ideas 
 among such stimuli, for they affect the nerves powerfully, 
 and they perpetuate states of feeling. When the nerve 
 cells have used up their stored energy, the feeling of pleas- 
 ure ceases. Pain then increases until the activity of the 
 nerve for this kind of response is exhausted. In both 
 cases, feelings are circumscribed by the inability of nerve 
 matter to continue to respond, with equal intensity, to the 
 same stimulus for an indefinite length of time. The vic- 
 tim on the rack becomes more callous to pains. The pam- 
 pered child no longer finds pleasure in the same luxuries. 
 
 (2) Attention of the same intensity cannot be centered 
 upon the same stimuli for a great length of time. Feeling 
 will increase as we attend to it, and it will decline as we 
 center our attention elsewhere. Brain cells are active in 
 attention. As the energy at their disposal is limited,
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 249 
 
 attention centered upon the same sensation or idea will 
 grow less and less vigorous and the connected feeling 
 will proportionally decline. 
 
 EMOTION. 
 
 Difference between Emotion and Feeling. An emo- 
 tion is the complex agreeable or disagreeable side of any 
 complete mental state. We have already seen that feeling 
 is the simple agreeable or disagreeable side of any mental 
 activity. 
 
 This distinction between emotion and feeling empha- 
 sizes the fact that feeling is a simple, primitive, mental 
 state, just as sensation is. We can feel as soon as we 
 enter on existence. Emotion, like perception, is a more 
 complex and complete mental state, and it demands the 
 presence of a representative idea to guide and prolong it. 
 On the other hand, feeling may rise from a bodily cause 
 and may be preceded or accompanied by no distinct 
 idea. 
 
 Feeling is present in all emotional states. It is a 
 thread on which all other states are strung like beads. 
 When representative ideas appear, the feeling in combina- 
 tion with them produces emotion. After the waters of 
 the Missouri combine with another stream, they receive 
 a different name, although they flow on toward the Gulf 
 in as great volume as before. Suppose we liken the feel- 
 ings due to sensation to the Missouri River ; the train of 
 representative ideas to the Mississippi before its junction 
 with the Missouri. Emotion may then be likened to the 
 Mississippi after its junction after feeling has combined 
 with representative ideas. The emotional stream will now 
 be broader and deeper than before. This analogy is em
 
 250 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ployed only to make the distinction clearer. The student 
 must remember that mental powers are never actually as 
 distinct as two rivers before their union. 
 
 Any novice in psychology can see the difference in the 
 mental state induced by a burn and by the news of the 
 death of a friend. In the former case feeling starts from 
 injured nerves ; in the latter, emotion rises from an idea, 
 which reacts upon the body and causes new feelings. 
 
 The student must beware of thinking that we have 
 done with feeling when we consider emotion. Just as 
 the waters of the Missouri flow on until they reach the 
 Gulf, so does feeling run through every emotional state. 
 
 Reflected Waves of Bodily Feeling are Important Fac- 
 tors in Emotion. Emotions differ from feelings not only 
 in complexity caused by trains of representative ideas, 
 but in waves of bodily feeling caused by those ideas ; the 
 results of these waves are reflected back upon the mind, 
 and contribute new elements of feeling to render the 
 emotional state still more complex. 
 
 Suppose a person has offered an insult to us. We 
 recall it ; we think about our own actions to see if they 
 justified it ; we remember that he is indebted to us for a 
 former favor. The mental state has become complex, 
 and the emotion of anger begins to rise ; but it will not 
 be complete until it has found expression in some of 
 the bodily organs. There is a scowl on the brow, a 
 compression of the lips, a muscular tension in the hands, 
 a quickened heart beat. If these bodily changes arose 
 without any idea, their effects would be transmitted to 
 the mind, and we should have feeling as a result. Now, 
 the results of this activity in frowning, muscular tension, 
 and expression are reflected back upon a mind in which
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 2$ I 
 
 the emotion of anger is developing. The feeling from 
 this reflected wave is the factor necessary to complete the 
 emotion. 
 
 If we watch a person growing angry, we shall see the 
 emotion increase as he talks loud, frowns deeply, clenches 
 his fists, and gesticulates wildly. Each expression of his] 
 passion is reflected back upon the original anger and adds 
 fuel to the fire. If he resolutely inhibits the muscular 
 expression of his anger, it will not attain great intensity, 
 and it will soon die a quiet death. So important is this 
 wave of expressive muscular feeling dashing back upon 
 the inducing mental state, that some have erroneously 
 concluded that an emotion did not begin to rise until the 
 sensations from the muscular expression of the idea were 
 reflected back on consciousness. 
 
 Expression of Emotion. All the emotions have well- 
 defined muscular expression. Darwin has written an ex- 
 cellent work, entitled, The Expression of the Emotions in 
 Man and Animals, to which students must refer for a 
 detailed account of such expression. A very few examples 
 must suffice here. 
 
 "In all the exhilarating emotions, the eyebrows, the eye- 
 lids, the nostrils, and the angles of the mouth are raised. 
 In the depressing passions it is the reverse." This general 
 statement conveys so much truth, that a careful observer 
 can read a large part of the history of a human being 
 written in the face. For this reason many phrenologists 
 have wisely turned physiognomists. Grief is expressed 
 by raising the inner ends of the eyebrows, drawing down 
 the corners of the mouth, and transversely wrinkling the 
 middle part of the forehead. In Tierra del Fuego, a party 
 of natives conveyed to Darwin the idea that a certain man
 
 252 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 was low-spirited, by pulling down their cheeks in order to 
 make their faces long. 
 
 Joy is expressed by drawing backward and upward the 
 corners of the mouth. The upper lip rises and draws 
 the cheeks upward, forming wrinkles under the eyes. 
 The elevation of the upper lip and the nostrils expresses 
 contempt. A skillful observer can frequently tell if one 
 person admires another. In this case the eyebrows are 
 raised, disclosing a brightening eye and a relaxed expres- 
 sion ; sometimes a gentle smile plays about the mouth. 
 Blushing is merely the physical expression of certain 
 emotions. We notice the expression of emotion more in 
 the countenance, because the effects are there most plainly 
 visible ; but the muscles of the entire body, the vital organs, 
 and the viscera, are also vehicles of expression. 
 
 Emotion Produced by Bodily Expression. Actors have 
 frequently testified to the fact that emotion will arise if 
 they go through the appropriate muscular movements. 
 In talking to a character on the stage, if they clench the 
 fist and frown, they often find themselves becoming really 
 angry ; if they start with counterfeit laughter, they find 
 themselves growing cheerful. A German professor says 
 that he cannot walk with a schoolgirl's mincing step and 
 air without feeling frivolous. A study of hypnotic sub- 
 jects has shown that emotion will often rise with them, if 
 they are placed in the proper attitude. If made to kneel 
 and clasp their hands, a devout frame of mind follows. 
 
 Bodily Expression Prolongs Emotion. After the idea 
 which has caused fear is seen to be groundless, the emo- 
 tion still persists. Fear has caused changes in the vital 
 organs and the muscles and these changes continue to
 
 affect the brain and prolong the fear after the departure of 
 the idea, just as the waves of the ocean continue to dash 
 high upon the shore long after the wind has ceased. After 
 burglars have broken into a house, there is generally no 
 more sleep for the inmates that night, although the house 
 may be guarded well enough to dispel the idea that another 
 attack will be made. Waves from affected physical organs 
 dash upon the brain and prolong the fear. 
 
 Not without reason are those persons called cold-blooded 
 who habitually restrain as far as possible the expression oi 
 emotion ; who never frown or throw any feeling into their 
 tones, even when a wrong inflicted upon some one demands 
 aggressive measures. There is here no wave of bodily 
 expression to flow back and augment the emotional state 
 
 / -A 
 
 ^^ CLASSIFICATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 
 
 Difficulty of Classification. So complex are the emo- 
 tions, that a satisfactory classification of them has never 
 been made. But some attempt at classification is desira- 
 ble in order that we may view emotion from different sides, 
 and learn something additional from each view. Professor 
 James rightly says : " Any classification of the emotions is 
 seen to be as true and as natural as any other, if it only 
 serves some purpose." We shall endeavor to give the sim 
 plest classification that will afford a broad view of emotional 
 activity. 
 
 No one of these classes will exclude other classes. The 
 mind is a unit, and all that classification can do is to view 
 this unitary activity from different sides. The distinction 
 between feeling and emotion is not absolute. There is 
 more complexity in the emotion, but precisely where the 
 necessary complexity begins, no one can say. Hence
 
 254 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 there is some reason for the popular use of feeling and 
 emotion as synonyms. A glorious cathedral should be 
 viewed from as many different sides as possible ; but we 
 must not forget that it is the same cathedral, HO matter 
 how different the points of view. 
 
 Scheme of Classification. We have already classified 
 as feeMngQost simple states due either to peripheral 
 stimulation, myh as A buriy. or to the simple memory of 
 that_Jjurn/ Taking emotion as starting from a complex 
 representative idea, as the memory of a mother's past 
 kindness or the constructive image of future success, we 
 may proceed to classify as follows : 
 
 I. Egoistic emotion, e.g. pride. This emotion starts 
 from any idea that represents the welfare of the self. 
 
 II. Altruistic emotion, e.g. sympathy. This rises with 
 an idea that suggests the welfare of others. 
 
 III. Intellectual emotion. This accompanies the work- 
 ing of any intellectual power perception, memory, im- 
 agination, or thought. 
 
 IV. ALsthetic emotion. This takes its rise from the 
 contemplation of beautiful objects. 
 
 V. Moral emotion. This attends ideas of certain rela- 
 tions of human beings to each other ; or, in other words, 
 ideas of right and wrong courses of human action. 
 
 Further investigation of emotion along these lines will 
 give us a better idea of it. We must not forget that 
 these divisions sometimes overlap. Altruistic emotion 
 has egoistic factors ; both classes are intellectual, since 
 they arise from apprehending ideas in their relations. 
 ./Esthetic and moral emotion also have an intellectual 
 side, since a cultivated mind alone can have these emo- 
 tions to the fullest extent. There are, however, ample
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 25 5 
 
 grounds for making such a classification, since it empha- 
 sizes the fact that emotional life is many-sided with a 
 common element running through it. 
 
 Egoistic Emotion.^^ 
 
 The Selfish Side of Emotion. Egoistic emotions cluster 
 around anything that affects the self directly or indirectly. 
 Pride, jealousy, love of approbation, fear and anger when 
 anything threatens the self, are egoistic emotions. Inj 
 short, any movement prompted by a desire for self-ad vance-|( 
 ment or to escape harm is due to egoistic emotion. 
 
 In the evolution of the race, the egoistic emotions were 
 absolutely necessary for the survival of the individual. 
 They are so to-day in a somewhat less degree. The truth 
 of this is indicated in the popular saying, " If you don't 
 look out for yourself, you must not expect any one else to 
 look out for you." It is also said that Heaven will not 
 help a man unless he helps himself, or, in other words, 
 unless his egoistic emotions prompt him to a certain 
 amount of action. In the early history of the world, those 
 tribes who could not, or would not, protect their property, 
 their wives and children, perished. It is necessary to-day/" 
 for the individual to have enough egoistic feeling to geti- 
 for himself sufficient money to shelter, feed, clothe, 
 otherwise care for himself and his family. If he has not, 
 he and they will go to the wall. 
 
 The egoistic emotions are sufficiently instinctive and 
 universal to need little culture. Once in a great while we 
 meet with some one who will, for the mere asking, give up 
 to others almost anything he has, who is always neglect- 
 ing his own interests and those of his family to help some 
 one else ; but he is a rare specimen. To-day men more
 
 256 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 frequently fail in life from selfishness than from practicing 
 altruism. The Indian lost his broad lands more from lack 
 of altruistic than of selfish motives. He was too often at 
 war with other tribes, too revengeful, and his sympathies 
 were too narrow. 
 
 Similar Actions by Ourselves and Others Arouse Different 
 Egoistic Emotions. Our own actions do not raise in us the 
 same kind of feeling as similar actions on the part of others. 
 We condemn certain acts in others, but perform similar acts 
 without feeling a particle of indignation. Most persons 
 have, at some time or other, been told things in confidence 
 and have repeated the confidence to some other person. 
 When such untrustworthy persons have had their own con- 
 fidences violated they have been angry ; but there is no 
 trace of anger at their own breach of trust. Amusing as 
 it seems, nothing is more common than to hear a person 
 say before he breaks the confidence reposed in him : " That 
 was told me in confidence." The workingman is indignant 
 at trusts. He forms a labor trust himself, and endeavors 
 to control the whole supply ; but he experiences no feeling 
 of indignation at his own acts. 
 
 This difference in feeling is a relic of barbarous times. 
 We are not yet fully evolved ; or, as a humorist ex- 
 presses it, we are still half frog and half tadpole. A 
 primeval man went to a cave on the opposite side of 
 a mountain from his own, killed the wife and children 
 and took the goods of another man. As time went on, 
 tribes did the same thing. Even these barbarians would 
 have acknowledged that they would have felt wretched 
 at similar treatment. If asked why they did not have 
 the same feelings when inflicting it on others, they would 
 have replied that their victims would have killed them if
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION 25? 
 
 they could ; that it was merely a question which was 
 to survive. As aboriginal society -was constituted, there 
 would have been considerable truth in the reply ; but 
 in the present condition of government, there is little. 
 If one person fails to do an objectionable deed, it by 
 no means follows that some one else will do it. In proof 
 of this, as the years roll on, men are coming more and 
 more nearly to look at their own deeds in the same light 
 in which others regard them. Education and the conse-l 
 quent improvement in the imagination and the reflective! 
 powers are bringing this about at a rapid rate. 
 
 Altruistic Emotion-, 
 
 * 
 
 Conditions of Sympathetic Emotion. We have emotions 
 which cluster about the welfare of others. Every time we 
 are sorry at another's misfortune, or rilled with joy at his 
 success, we experience an altruistic emotion. 
 
 The complex altruistic emotion of sympathy is thej 
 noblest feeling given to mortals. Its possession renders 
 a. human being more attractive than all other qualities 
 combined. There are four distinct steps necessary for 
 the full growth of sympathy : 
 
 (1) The sympathizer must be a good observer. He must 
 be on the alert to notice any cause capable of producing 
 grief or joy. He must be careful to detect the physical 
 expression of emotion, even when efforts for its repression 
 or concealment are made. Pride or shyness or fear causes 
 many a human being to mask the emotions, even when 
 sympathy is most needed ; but the eyes of a good observer 
 can penetrate the mask. 
 
 (2) The sympathizer must also have a good memory. 
 He must recall occurrences which affected him more or 
 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. ij
 
 ^Ji 
 
 YCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC 
 
 less profoundly, perhaps long ago. Most important of all, 
 he must remember how he felt at the time. 
 
 (3) He must be a good thinker. He must be able to 
 compare the causes which formerly acted on him with 
 those which are now affecting others, and notice the 
 points of likeness and difference. He must compare dif- 
 ferent temperaments and environment. 
 
 (4) He may have all these qualities in addition to a 
 naturally emotional nature, and yet not be a good sympa- 
 thizer. If he lacks imagination, be l^cks the keysto"^ t^ 
 the arch. The causes of emotion, the environment, the 
 tastes of others, are seldom literal copies of his own. He 
 must by constructive imagination supply the elements 
 which his own experience lacks. The more vivid and 
 cultivated his imagination, the better can he put himself 
 in another's place. 
 
 Hence it is seen that a stupid person cannot be sympa- 
 thetic. This altruistic emotion is the result of long train- 
 ing. Sympathy cannot be put on and off like gloves. It 
 is worth earnest striving for, since the sympathetic are 
 alone fit to live with. Sympathy doubles pleasures and 
 halves pains. 
 
 *- . 
 
 Necessity for Community of Experience and Taste. For 
 close sympathy between individuals, there must be harmony 
 of tastes. If one is very fond of music, while the other 
 is indifferent to it ; if one desires much company, while 
 the other prefers the solitude of the home ; if one loves 
 travel, while the other dislikes it ; if one is intellectual 
 and fond of reading, while the other is frivolous and, 
 rarely opens a book, there can never be close sympathy.; 
 
 Again, in order to give the powers of comparison and 
 of imagination any materials to work with, there must
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 259 
 
 be considerable community of experience. Young people 
 can rarely feel deep sympathy with the failing capacities 
 and troubles of the aged. Many a mother has given her 
 children as much sympathy as exists outside of Heaven, 
 only to find them stupidly unsympathetic when the last 
 bitter years come fraught with failing powers and help- 
 lessness for her. Where there is as much community of 
 experience as there must necessarily have been between 
 parent and child, there is, of course, slight excuse for 
 this ; but when one person has had little trouble or pleas- 
 ure in common with another, it is useless to expect much 
 interchange of sympathy. 
 
 The Increase of Altruistic Emotion. As the race be- 
 comes more fully evolved, the altruistic emotions are in- 
 creasing in scope and depth. Instead of, " It toucheth thee, 
 and thou art troubled," the chronicler of the future will 
 be able to write more and more often, " It troubled thee, 
 although thou wast not touched." Some have denied the 
 existence of altruistic emotions, but there are in evidence 
 against this denial many orphan asylums, homes for the 
 aged, societies to relieve distress and to protect children 
 and animals. The number trying to improve the condi- 
 tion of the world is constantly increasing. Each year sees 
 more efficiency in organizations for this purpose. 
 
 Intellectual Emotion. 
 
 Emotion is Developed by Intellectual Action. All ex< 
 cise of the mind is accompanied by feeling, and as this 
 becomes pronounced and causes slight changes in the con- 
 dition of the nerve matter and the physical expression, 
 we have genuine emotion. There are complex pleasures
 
 260 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 and pains, with their resulting emotions, entering into 
 perception, memory, imagination, and thought. When 
 we merely perceive the vast blue expanse of the quiet 
 ocean, an emotion frequently rises from intellectual action. 
 The gaze at the ocean is not passive. The mind is devel- 
 oping a train of associated ideas, which immediately form 
 a part of the complex mental state, ideas of blue eyes, 
 and the blue depths of the limitless heavens ; ideas of an 
 Infinite Power, of an analogy between this restless ocean 
 and life. From such perceptions, pronounced emotional 
 states speedily develop, although they may begin in simple 
 pleasurable nervous response to the stimulus of a pleasing 
 color. 
 
 Let any one recall memories of the past, of times when 
 he achieved success or appeared so foolish that he was 
 disgusted with himself, of unkind words hastily spoken, 
 of good deeds, and he will find this representative intel- 
 lectual action accompanied by deep emotion. When Mac- 
 beth's memory thrust before him the circumstances of the 
 murder, emotion followed as the night the day. Shake- 
 speare's plays and Milton's Paradise Lost gratify us be- 
 cause they set our imaginations to work, and emotional 
 action follows. The reason why the vicious practic.^al 
 building aircastlcs is indulged in, is because pleasure is 
 a prominent element of the imaginative activity. 
 
 The emotions accompanying the exercise of the think- 
 ing power lack deep bodily resonance, but they are im- 
 portant and often extremely pleasurable notwithstanding. 
 There was, probably, not a happier moment in New- 
 ton's life than when he had succeeded in demonstrating, 
 that the same power which caused the apple to fall, held 
 the moon and the planets in their orbits. When Watts 
 discovered that steam might be harnessed like a horse ;
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 261 
 
 when an inventor succeeds in perfecting a labor-lightening 
 device ; whenever an obscurity is cleared away, the reason 
 for a thing understood, and a baffling instance brought 
 under a general law, intellectual emotion results. The 
 principal intellectual emotions are wonder, surprise, belief, 
 and perplexity. 
 
 The intellectual emotions in an eminent degree accom- 
 pany the study of the best poetry. An example from 
 Wordsworth will suffice to illustrate this : 
 
 " I have seen 
 
 A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract 
 Of inland ground, applying to his ear 
 The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell : 
 To which, in silence hushed, his very soul 
 Listened intensely and his countenance soon 
 Brightened with joy ; for murmurings from within 
 Were heard, sonorous cadences ! whereby, 
 To his belief, the monitor expressed 
 Mysterious union with its native sea. 
 Even such a shell the universe itself 
 Is to the ear of Faith." 
 
 As the intellect traces out the analogy between the cadence 
 in the shell and the sound of the parent sea, and finds the 
 wonderful mechanism of the universe suggestive of a match- 
 less Evolver, an emotion arises strong in proportion to the 
 mental culture and capacity of the individual. 
 
 The Ludicrous. The puzzling emotion of the ludicrous 
 should be classed under the intellectual emotions, for it 
 depends largely on contrast, and hence requires the exer- 
 cise of the comparative powers to detect the contrast. 
 As has often been said, a stupid person cannot see the 
 point of a joke. Psychologists have pointed out two
 
 262 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 elements in the ludicrous : (i) the feeling of superiority 
 or glory, which appears so often in wit, and (2) incon- 
 gruity, a characteristic of humor. 
 
 The feeling of superiority, or mirth over the discom- 
 fiture of another, is illustrated by the laughter when a 
 pompous, aristocratic person slips and falls in the mud. 
 It is still very human to chuckle when a rival receives a 
 setback. A newspaper relates the following anecdote, 
 " What would you do in case you voted war on the coun- 
 try ? " the reporter asked of a woman's rights woman. " I 
 should be perfectly willing to send my husband to the war," 
 she replied. This depends for its wit on the humiliation of 
 the husband. The laugh is at his expense. 
 
 The element of incongruity generally raises an emotion 
 of the ludicrous in any whose comparative powers are 
 sufficiently cultivated to detect the incongruity. Mark 
 Twain tells us of a city with very narrow streets, and 
 adds that it is well that they are no wider. They now 
 hold all the stench that can be endured. If they were 
 wider, they would hold more, and the people would die. 
 If a clergyman wearing a cook's cap and apron were to 
 ascend the pulpit, the congregation would laugh. There 
 might be nothing funny about the cap and apron by 
 themselves, but their unwonted relations to the clergy- 
 man would raise an emotion of the ludicrous. 
 
 ^Esthetic Emotion. 
 1 1 . P^ d^iT 
 
 Origin and Scope of Esthetic Emotion. Esthetic er 
 tion has its origin in the perception of the beautiful. It 
 has the least reference to self of any of the emotions. A 
 pure aesthetic emotion must not contain a single element 
 of desire for possession of the beautiful object. There
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 
 
 need be no relations between the person and the object, 
 save the opportunity to perceive it. Any number of per- 
 sons may be delighted without destroying the source of 
 the pleasure. The blue sky, the starry heavens, the rain- 
 bow, the blossoms, the music from an orchestra, are not 
 impaired by the gazers or the hearers. Eating is not 
 aesthetic, because the viands must be destroyed in the 
 process, so far as others are concerned, and the pleasur^ 
 must be selfish. 
 
 ^Esthetic pleasures were unknown in the barbarous age 
 of man, when all the energy of the individual was necessary 
 to protect himself and his family and to get a living. They 
 arose when civilization allowed him to accumulate a sur- 
 plus of energy, which could be worked off in a playful, 
 disinterested way. Health, leisure, education, and money 
 represent this surplus. The lower classes to-day, who 
 constantly work for the necessaries of life, accumulate 
 little superfluous energy to take the direction of aesthetic 
 activity. 
 
 There may be three elements in aesthetic enjoyment : 
 (i) the sensuous, (2) the intellectual, (3) the associative. 
 Each of these will now be taken up in order. 
 
 I. The Sensuous Element. When a person looks at a 
 rose or a rainbow, the nerves of sight may be so acted 
 upon that aesthetic pleasure is the immediate result of the 
 sensation. The object is at once felt to be beautiful with- 
 out any intervention of the intellect. Persons have almost 
 danced with aesthetic delight the moment their eyes fell 
 upon the exquisite tints of a hillside of maples in the 
 autumn. It has been said that one part of the aesthetic 
 delight from music is due to the fact that the harmony 
 gratifies certain simple sensibilities of the nerves of the
 
 264 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ear. Perhaps their vibration in a certain way gives rise 
 to this pleasure. 
 
 The sensuous element does, not contribute the highest 
 order of pleasure, but the possession of healthy nerves 
 containing stored-up energy, capable of responding under 
 the proper stimulus, is certainly an addition to those aes- 
 thetic pleasures where the associative and thinking ele- 
 ments figure largely. Even nerves differ in their power 
 of aesthetic sensibility. Grant Allen says : " The vulgar 
 are pleased by great masses of color, especially red, orange, 
 and purple, which give their coarse nervous organization 
 the requisite stimulus. The refined, with nerves of less 
 caliber, but greater discriminativeness, require delicate 
 combinations of complementaries and prefer neutral tints 
 to the glare of the primary hues. Children and savages 
 love to dress in all the colors of the rainbow." 
 
 II. The Intellectual Element. The fact that one person 
 can see beauty where another cannot, shows that it is, to a 
 certain extent, intellectual. A Fiji would probably see lit- 
 tle beauty in the finest art gallery in the world. We are 
 rightly told that, "in ordinary cases, the aesthetic quality 
 of objects is so slightly marked that only an exercise of 
 attention can bring it definitely into consciousness." The 
 power of close attention belongs to a cultured intellect. 
 
 Every time the mind discerns unity amid variety, order, 
 rhythm, proportion or symmetry, an aesthetic emotion 
 arises. We pick up the seed cone of a pine tree, and 
 notice that the cone has the general shape of the parent 
 tree. Further observation discloses the fact that each 
 branch has the conical shape of the tree. Each little 
 branch growing on a larger one is also conical. We per- 
 ceive additional beauty in the pine as soon as we have
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 265 
 
 traced out this unity amid variety. When the unity run- 
 ning through the varied phenomena of heat, light, and 
 electricity was discovered, the demonstration was justly 
 called a beautiful one. If it is ever proved that all sub- 
 stances are, at the last analysis, one and the same under- 
 lying substance, whose different molecular arrangements 
 are accountable for all the variety, the demonstration will 
 appeal to the aesthetic feelings. They are also aroused at 
 the suggestion that all the sciences may be merely compo- 
 nent parts of one foundation science, the science of Being, 
 although we have not yet discovered the unity running 
 through these varied sciences. 
 
 The traveler with a trained intellect will see far more 
 beauty than an ignorant one. In looking at a cathedral, 
 a large part of the aesthetic enjoyment comes from trac- 
 ing out the symmetry, from comparing part with part. 
 Not until this process is complete, will the full beauty 
 of the structure as a whole be perceived. If the traveler 
 knows something of mediaeval architecture before starting 
 on his European trip, he will see far more beauty. 
 
 The opposite of the aesthetic, which we call the ugly, is 
 the unsymmetrical, the disorderly that in which we can 
 discover no rhythm, plan, or harmony. 
 
 III. The Associative Element. This factor is so pro- 
 nounced in many aesthetic emotions, that some have thought 
 that it was the necessary element in all such emotion. In 
 our study of the association of ideas, we saw that ugly gar- 
 ments may come to be regarded as pleasing from being 
 associated with well-bred or handsome people. The trav- 
 eler rightly wishes to take a trip on the Rhine because of 
 its associations. There is nothing objectively beautiful in 
 a pile of disorderly stones the grass sprouting over some,
 
 266 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULfURE. 
 
 others about to fall. The ruined castles derive their beauty 
 from the legend and song connected with them. A beau- 
 tiful maiden was formerly imprisoned in this castle, and 
 one of the most chivalrous knights of all time finally res- 
 cued her after many adventures. Such stories are asso- 
 ciated with the ruined pile, and in imagination we repeople 
 the castle with all the figures of chivalry. We hear the 
 song of the daughters of the Rhine echoing over the bat- 
 tlements. After witnessing a performance of Wagner's 
 Rheingold the river would appear still more beautiful. 
 And yet foreigners say that the Hudson is far more pic- 
 turesque. The parts of the Hudson also that excite most 
 interest are associated with legend or history. Travelers 
 eagerly scan the Catskills, where Rip Van Winkle slept 
 his twenty years' sleep, and where the crew of Henry 
 Hudson are still said to hold their revels on tempestuous 
 nights. 
 
 America is far richer in varied natural scenery than 
 : ' Europe, but America is so young that she lacks the asso- 
 ciations which for more than a thousand years have gath- 
 ered around every square mile of Europe. Comparatively 
 few would visit Stratford-on-Avon, were it not associated 
 with Shakespeare. Sully says : " The cawing of rooks is 
 not a pleasing sound in itself, but is commonly regarded 
 as such through its suggestions, e.g. sunny park and 
 country repose. The effect of sublimity is largely a mat- 
 ter of suggestion. We are thrilled at the sight of an 
 Alpine crag because of the suggestions of power, danger, 
 \and isolation which attend it." 
 
 Esthetic Enjoyment Often a Resultant of all Three Ele- 
 ments. The aesthetic emotions are frequently due to 
 all three factors sensuous, intellectual, and associative
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 267 
 
 acting at the same time. Music may afford aesthetic 
 gratification from all three sources. The mere harmony 
 may affect the nerves in an aesthetic way. When the 
 intellect traces out the relation of part to part, detects 
 the harmony running through the entire composition, there 
 is further aesthetic pleasure. If the tune is a national one, 
 it derives beauty from its associations. The sound of the 
 bagpipe is beautiful to a Scotchman because it is asso- 
 ciated with Scotland. 
 
 Variations in Esthetic Taste. It has been said that 
 aesthetics cannot be treated in a scientific way because 
 there is no standard of taste. " De gustibus non dispu- 
 tandum " is an old proverb. Of two equally intelligent 
 persons, the one may like a certain book, the other dis- 
 like it. Authors and many other persons know that there 
 is nothing more variable than criticism. Hamlet is a 
 much more popular play with the Germans than with 
 the French. The same style of opera does not suit 
 both the Italians and the Germans. The great French 
 critic, Taine, did not like Paradise Lost. Taste not only 
 varies among individuals now, but it has changed from 
 age to age. In the early part of the Elizabethan Age, 
 a stilted, antithetical, euphuistic style was popular. In 
 Pope's age more attention was paid to form and elegance 
 of expression than to the worth of the thought. The 
 Dutch landscape gardeners formerly clipped evergreen 
 trees into all sorts of fantastic shapes to imitate all kinds 
 of animals. 
 
 While it is true that the standard of taste is a varying 
 one within certain limits, it is no more so than that of 
 morals. As men's nervous systems, education, and asso- 
 ciations differ, we may scientifically conclude that their
 
 268 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 tastes must differ. The greater the uniformity in the 
 factors, the less does the product vary. On the other 
 hand, within certain limits, the standard of aesthetics is 
 relatively uniform. It is fixed by the majority of intelli- 
 gent people of any age and country. To estimate the 
 standard by which to judge of the correctness of language 
 or of the literary taste of any era, we examine the conver- 
 sations of the best speakers, the works of the standard 
 writers. There is sufficient uniformity of taste for manu- 
 facturers to be willing to risk millions in making aesthetic 
 articles. Authors and publishers risk time and money in 
 bringing out books, because experience has shown that 
 the public will like certain productions. Both German 
 and Italian composers have certain principles, though 
 different ones, to guide them in producing operas to suit 
 the taste of their respective nations. 
 
 There are some things that can be pronounced in bad 
 taste in any age or nation. All things which are in con- 
 flict with the laws of life the laws of health or of morals, 
 may be pronounced not aesthetic at any time. As Sulll 
 says, " We could condemn the Chinese taste for pincheJ 
 feet or the English taste for pinched waists as bad.", 
 
 Moral Emoti 
 
 Characteristics of Moral Feeling. (i) A moral emotion ; 
 appears only on the perception of the Tightness or the X!J^ 
 wrongness of human action. The relations of man to 
 man, not of matter to matter, furnish grounds for this 
 emotion. In this it differs from aesthetic feeling, which 
 may be started by the perception of a rose. The moment 
 we see a child neglecting a parent, or a man stealing 
 from another or murdering some one, a moral emotion
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION^ 269 
 
 arises. Some human actions, e.g. eating and walking, are 
 neither moral nor immoral ; only those actions which affect 
 the welfare of others, which are intentionally benevolent 
 or harmful, have relations with morality. The perception 
 of a rainbow, a ruined castle, or autumnal scenery may 
 raise an aesthetic emotion but never a moral one. Lear 
 could blame the winds for buffeting his old and helpless 
 head only after he had personified them. 
 
 (2) Moral emotion carries with it a feeling of oughtness, 
 possessed by no other emotion. It says, "Thou shalt," or 
 "Thou shalt not;" and, accompanying obedience or disobe- 
 dience of its commands, there also comes a peculiar feeling 
 of approval or disapproval. There is no such feeling of 
 authority in an aesthetic emotion. We may admire a 
 painting or a cathedral or not, just as we choose; if we 
 fail to admire, remorse does not follow. But Macbeth felt 
 that he ought to bar the door against Duncan's murderer, 
 not bear the knife himself. 
 
 (3) The feeling depends for its validity on the fact 
 that an action is freely willed. If a somnambulist killed 
 another, or a man accidentally slew his neighbor, a moral 
 emotion would not arise in connection with the deed, 
 because it was not freely willed. Whether natural 
 scenery or a human face wills to look beautiful or not 
 makes no difference with the raising of an aesthetic 
 emotion. Remorse can be satisfactorily explained only 
 on the supposition that the person could have acted dif- 
 ferently. 
 
 (4) The other emotions, as a rule, as they are now 
 developed, impel us toward what we enjoy, toward pleas- 
 ure and away from pain. This is especially the case with 
 the aesthetic emotions. Even sympathy has its pleasant 
 side, but the moral feelings frequently goad us toward dis-
 
 2/O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 agreeable duty. After men have stolen money from the 
 government, byjalsely swearing to the value of imports 
 or in other ways, the moral emotion not infrequently 
 prompts the return of the money. The government has 
 regular entries of conscience money on the ledgers. 
 
 Different Theories of Moral Emotion. Some have held 
 that there is a special faculty called conscience, which de- 
 cides unerringly between right and wrong. This opinion 
 is well-nigh abandoned by scientific psychologists. A com- 
 plex moral feeling deserves to be classed as an emotion 
 as much as an aesthetic one. It is true that the emo- 
 tion raised by the contemplation of moral attributes is a 
 peculiar one ; so is the feeling raised by the beautiful ; so 
 is every power of the mind, each one as divinely given 
 as any other, and each as far beyond man's capacity to 
 implant in matter as any other. What is called conscience 
 is a compound of intellectual action and of feeling. 
 
 The development, or evolutional, theory holds that the 
 complex moral emotion is a product of education, that 
 this emotion was at first in the man very much as the 
 oak is in the acorn in an extremely undeveloped state. 
 This moral feeling slowly developed along the line of 
 utility, not to the self alone, but also to the tribe or 
 the nation. Hence the morally right is that which makes 
 for the welfare of the greatest number. 
 
 The standard of the morally right has changed from 
 age to age, like the aesthetic standard. The Romans 
 thought it wrong to enslave a fellow Roman, not so an 
 alien. The Spartan thought it perfectly right to put 
 weak children to death, for they were a clog to the tribe. 
 The evolutionist says that the standard has changed 
 as the conception of utility to the greatest number has
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 
 
 271 
 
 changed ; for instance, when times of constant war passed, 
 weakly children no longer harmed the tribe so much as 
 before, and it then came to be thought wrong to kill 
 them. 
 
 The true theory seems to be, that the mind has original 
 potential capacity for feeling in many ways, for instance 
 in a moral or in an aesthetic way ; that this capacity has 
 been developed by experience and education, and that the 
 development is still going on. Moral feeling has so broad- 
 ened that the nineteenth century has seen the idea of the 
 wrong of slavery extended from the whites to the blacks. 
 When all things are finally averaged, the moral will be 
 found to coincide with the us^fa^. 
 
 t<0 CL 
 
 True Meaning of Moral Utility. The fact that the 
 moral will be found to coincide with the useful in the 
 broadest sense is liable to be misunderstood. Moral , 
 
 VL 
 
 feeling to-day frequently rises when no consciousness of>./ 
 
 .,. . , , 11 , 11 \NU/v\u*ft 
 
 utility is present. If a boy saw a bully beating a smaller 
 
 boy, the first boy would have a feeling of moral indigna- 
 tion, and he might also interfere without a thought of 
 utility to himself. Few human beings would pass by a 
 wounded man lying unconscious in the middle of a lonely 
 road, although the traveler might be sorely inconvenienced 
 in giving the aid. If he did pass by, the "serpent of re- 
 morse " might always hiss in memory's ear. 
 
 The feeling prompting helpfulness in such circumstances 
 may have originally been due to a desire to preserve the 
 family or the tribe, since the self was thereby benefited. 
 But because a feeling has its roots in utility, it does not 
 follow that this element is present in the fruit. A rose is 
 not the mold out of which the plant grew ; but it is just as 
 fragrant as if it had not sprung from the earth.
 
 I 
 
 272 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 How Altruistic Moral Emotion May Have Developed. 
 
 The following story illustrates how selfish emotion may 
 have broadened into altruistic moral emotion : Two hunt- 
 ers, in primitive days, go hunting together, agreeing to 
 share the game. They separate for a short time, when one 
 kills a fawn. Almost at once he hears a cry for help from 
 his companion, who is attacked by a wild beast. The 
 first, thinking that he can retain the whole fawn if the 
 other is killed, does not stir to help him, but throws it 
 across his shoulders and starts homeward. Soon a wild 
 beast, attracted by the scent of the fawn, gives chase, and 
 the hunter barely escapes by throwing the fawn to the 
 beast. As he goes home, hungry and empty-handed, he 
 has abundant leisure to consider how both, acting together, 
 might have defended themselves, and saved the game, and 
 how half a fawn is better than none. He thus discovers, 
 through experience, that narrow selfishness does not pay, 
 and impresses this truth upon his children. 
 
 In some such way as this, the moral 'altruistic feelings 
 arose. Now we often run to the assistance of another 
 without a thought of utility to self. Every age sees these 
 feelings broaden. From nothing, nothing is evolved j but 
 a giant oak has sprung from a tiny acorn. 
 
 GENERAL TRUTHS PERTAINING TO FEELING AND 
 EMOTION. 
 
 Instinctive and Unconscious Tendencies. At the basis 
 of emotion is an instinctive tendency to react in a certain 
 way, when the proper stimulus is felt. When the stimulus 
 of increasing cold acts upon the wild goose in a northern 
 latitude, the fowl manifests restlessness which passes into 
 flight toward a warmer climate. When sense or ideational
 
 yw4.-jAj.js2a. I 
 ou CloS V 
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 
 
 stimuli act upon the human being, they tend to develop 
 feeling which often passes over into more complex emo- 
 tion. 
 
 A sense stimulus flows into the brain and develops 
 feeling there by instinctive reactions in the nerve cells. 
 This nervous affection is, in turn, reflected outward 
 toward the muscles and vital organs and back from them, 
 by laws determined for the individual by his nervous sys- 
 tem. When the feeling begins with an idea, the excite- 
 ment also tends to spread in the brain and to overflow 
 into the rest of the nervous system ; just as the waves, 
 by mechanical law, spread in every direction when a stone 
 is thrown into a small lake ; and when they strike the 
 shore, they are reflected back toward the center. 
 
 An emotion is instinctive in proportion as the stimulus 
 tends at once to pass into conscious reflex action, which 
 is necessarily accompanied by elements of feeling. Chil- 
 dren will manifest fear of dogs and other animals before 
 experience has developed ideas of danger from them. 
 When a man runs his head into a beam, the emotion of 
 anger often instinctively develops, before reflection can 
 show that the beam was not to blame. Here the emotion 
 of anger was the instinctive reaction to the stimulus. In- 
 fants frequently become instinctively angry when a toy 
 slips from their hands, and men sometimes kick across the 
 floor things which get under their feet. The mother does 
 not have to be taught to love her child, for the instinctive 
 tendency is already present. 
 
 Many of our emotions rise from a plurality of causes, 
 some of which may have been operative in our ancestrj* 
 ages ago. There is no doubt that a tendency to think! 
 feel, and act in a certain way is transmitted by heredity.p 
 Darwin noticed that kingfishers on catching a fish beat
 
 274 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 it until it was killed, and this fact explained to him why 
 a captive kingfisher beat a piece of meat before eating it. 
 Some persons have a natural love for machinery or art ; 
 others have a strong aversion to them. 
 
 Every one must have experienced feelings, joy, sorrow, 
 admiration, hope, fear, arising from no adequate known 
 cause ; and has perhaps sought in vain for their source. 
 Hoffding thus states an important truth : " Unconscious^ 
 .impressions play an especially large part in the develop-! 
 ment of the feelings. Feeling is determined not only by' 
 clear and distinct sensations and ideas, but also by imper- 
 ceptible influences, the sum of which only takes effect in 
 consciousness. Hence the mystical and inexplicable char- 
 acter of so many feelings; especially when first excited 
 are they incomprehensible even to the individual himself, 
 since he does not know their definite causes. . . . We 
 are never fully conscious of the influence of our experi- 
 ences and the condition of life on our state of feeling, 
 until the feeling acquires a distinctly marked character 
 or even perhaps breaks forth in actions. Such influences I 
 are like the air we breathe without thinking of it. They* 
 occasion within us a quiet growth which is often the most 
 important and decisive factor in the mental life." 
 
 From this it follows that the influences one grows up 
 under, the very atmosphere of the home, school, or work, 
 will all have their resultant lifelong effect upon the feel 
 ings. So will the books one reads, the company one keeps, 
 the throng of images one allows to pass through his mind. 
 If a person wishes to be happy in later life, he must look 
 well to the earlier foundations of happiness. 
 
 Factors Determining the Rise and the Decline of Emo- 
 tion. On the day of the death of a relative, the emotion
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 
 
 275 
 
 of grief is frequently so strong as to render impossible any 
 work on the part of the bereaved person. A year later he 
 is attending to his work very much as usual. The emo- 
 tion reached its height and then declined. The following 
 are the principal determining factors : 
 
 (1) The relation of the stimulus to the instinctive ten- 
 dencies to emotion is an important factor. Many of the 
 stimuli of life are not accompanied with profound emotion, 
 because they are not fitted to rouse the deeper instinctive 
 tendencies. Such stimuli are the air we breathe, the water 
 we drink, and many of the most ordinary stimuli that daily 
 affect our bodies. On the other hand, the cry of a child 
 is directly adapted to call forth the deepest emotion from 
 a mother's heart. When an ill-bred person gives us a 
 hard slap on the back, the majority feel angry instinc- 
 tively, because the blow by peculiarly jarring the spinal 
 column sends a wave of bodily resonance to the brain. 
 
 (2) The limitation of nervous energy is the second factor 
 affecting the height and continuation of emotion. Strong 
 emotions involve tremendous nervous wear. As the nervous 
 energy is lessened, the response is less and less powerful. 
 Hence the emotion tends to decline, both because the body 
 reflects to the brain less strong waves, and also because the 
 brain cells themselves become exhausted and respond with 
 less vigor. Less nervous fuel is added to the fire. 
 
 (3) The nature of the idea is an important factor in 
 determining the rapidity of the rise of an emotion. The 
 idea of a glass of water when one is not thirsty will have 
 little effect. The mental image of a glass of strong drink 
 may raise intense desire in the case of a drunkard. The 
 prospect of the loss of a limb or of one's eyesight will x j 
 raise strong emotions in any instance. Stating the easel W 
 generally, the rapidity of the rise of an internally initiated '>/ 
 
 /"I s~* ^^^fc ^^*W 
 
 ." 
 
 _,.
 
 276 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 emotion will be due to the amount of pleasure or pain, 
 immediate or remote, which the idea suggests. 
 
 The decline will be due to two reasons : (i) The atten- 
 tion cannot be intensely centered on one idea indefinitely. 
 Attention implies expenditure of brain energy, which is 
 not inexhaustible. As attention declines, the idea grows 
 weaker, and the emotion begins to subside. When the 
 attention is drawn away from mere bodily pain, it does 
 not seem so intense. (2) Ideas of other things force 
 themselves into the mind, claiming the attention and 
 developing counter emotions, which tend to divert the 
 mental energy from the old. This is the reason why 
 physicians so often prescribe travel for both bodily and 
 mental ills. In this way new things occupy the attention, 
 and varying emotions develop in connection with them. 
 
 Changeableness of Emotion. We shall never be fitted 
 to deal with our fellows unless we recognize the fact that 
 the emotional world must be one of change. The ele- 
 ments of feeling entering into emotion differ with every 
 change in our nervous systems. A man sick, angry, or 
 hungry, does not look at life in the same way as when 
 he is healthy, cheerful, and well fed. Any one may notice 
 how hopeful his thoughts often are in the morning, and 
 how blue and uncertain they become in the dead of night. 
 A contemplative German said that he had noticed that 
 he often had a different opinion when lying down from 
 what he had when standing. Ideas are also constantly 
 changing, furnishing another reason for changing emo- 
 tional states. 
 
 Str } '* 'mh fit th? emntinnql jrnn ?> lint, ought to become V,,' 
 a maxim, for emotion does not generally remain long at: 
 
 . 
 
 its height. An agent for Grant's Memoirs said, that.
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 277 
 
 the week following the general's death, there was harder 
 work every day to make a sale, so quickly did popular 
 grief decline. A certain city, at the time of Lincoln's 
 death, talked of raising funds for a monument. Had 
 the paper been circulated at once, a million would have 
 been subscribed within a week. But time passed, and 
 much difficulty was experienced in getting subscriptions. 
 
 Conspiring and Conflicting Emotions. If we knew al 
 the emotions that swayed a man, we could mark out with 
 approximate correctness his orbit in life. The trouble 
 arises from the complexity of the problem, from the fact 
 that different emotions act counter to each other anc 
 may be struggling at the same time. It is seldom that 
 desires all pull in one direction. Ap 
 
 may wish to understand a certain subject involving mud: 
 
 Study. The love of ease and of knowledge pull in different 
 directions ; and by a rough application of the principle oi 
 the parallelogram of forces, we can compute the person's 
 course. In this case it will lie between the path of hard 
 unremitting study and the road of complete indolence. A 
 person both vain and selfish may be asked for a contribu 
 tion to a charity. Vanity would prompt giving ten dollars 
 merely for the speech of people ; selfishness would refuse 
 to contribute. These forces pulling in different direction* 
 would cause a compromise, and five dollars might be given 
 A person may have a desire fo'r strong drink and ques 
 tionable amusements, and an equally strong desire to be 
 thought well of by people. w* ormiH pr^iVf tint |yj 
 
 indulgences would be on the. sly. 
 
 Life is largely a battlefield of conflicting emotions ; and 
 we are often at a loss to know which course is the more 
 desirable. The greatest classical example of this is given
 
 2/8 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 in Hamlet's soliloquy. Strong emotions urged him to 
 lay down life, equally strong ones forbade the step, and 
 inaction was the result. Perhaps the next greatest ex- 
 ample occurs in Macbeth. In this case, the conspiring 
 emotions were love of fame, power, and wealth, and a 
 desire to gratify his wife's ambition ; those conflicting 
 were the feelings of -relationship and hospitality for the 
 aged king, and the fear of having to be tried for the deed 
 in the courts of a future life. 
 
 Effect of Emotion upon Intellectual Action. Here there 
 is again a conflict. On the one hand, the emotions are 
 favorable to intellectual action, since they supply tke 
 interest onp fppjfi jp gtn/iy One may feel intensely con- 
 cerning a certain subject and be all the better student. 
 Hence the emotions are not, as was formerly thought, 
 entirely hostile to intellectual* action. Emotion often 
 quickens the perception, burns things indelibly into the 
 memory, and doubles the rapidity of thought. 
 
 On the other hand, strong feelings often vitiate every 
 operation of the intellect. They cause us to see only what 
 we wish to, to remember only what interests our narrow 
 feelings at the time, and to reason from selfish data only. 
 A lawyer said : " If it were not for the deflecting power of 
 emotion upon reason, a part of our business would be gone. 
 I now have a client suing for damages. His feelings mag- 
 nify his own two and two,"and their sum appears to him to 
 be five. The defendant adds up that same two and two in 
 the light of his own feelings and makes their sum three. 
 My client wants a damage of five, so to speak ; his oppo- 
 nent is willing to give but three. Schoolmasters may 
 talk about the universal applicability of mathematical 
 truths how they never vary ; but such talk only amuses
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 279 
 
 us in practical life. Men go to law every day because two 
 and two are five, or only three, to them." 
 
 Emotion puts the magnifying end of the telescope to 
 our intellectual eye where our own interests are concerned, 
 the minimizing end when we are looking at the interests 
 of others. It is very common for two persons to endeavor 
 to tell their ailments at the same time, and for each to 
 pay little attention to the other's complaints. Thought is 
 deflected when it passes through an emotional medium, 
 just as a sunbeam is when it strikes water. 
 
 Ideas Best Fitted to Raise Emotion. Feeling cannot 
 be compelled. Even if a person wishes to feel sorry, he 
 cannot merely because some one tells him he should. 
 There must be an adequate cause, just as so much fuel 
 must be consumed to raise the temperature of water a 
 given number of degrees. Many would-be orators rave and 
 gesticulate wildly, but excite no emotion save disgust in 
 their hearers. The English pulpit of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury shows very well how emotions are not to be raised. 
 The clergy preached on abstract charity, faith, temperance, 
 and holiness. Gin mills multiplied under this kind of 
 preaching, and signs like the following were displayed in 
 their windows : "Drunk for a penny." "Dead drunk for 
 twopence ; clean straw for nothing." The nation grew 
 more and more corrupt, until a genius arose who changed lA* 
 the style of preaching. 
 
 A large part of the business of life consists in moving 
 the emotions of men so as to get them to act. Those 
 ideas which give vivid pictures of a concrete act of in- 
 justice, of the doer of a noble deed, of an actual sufferer, 
 seldom fail to raise emotion. If a man intends to get a 
 xxmtribution for the sick poor, let him not speak in general
 
 28O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 terms of the inconvenience of sickness, the pains of pov- 
 erty. One vivid picture of a forlorn room where a feeble 
 mother is watching her sick child, for whom she is unable 
 to procure proper food, will be infinitely more effective. 
 
 Any idea which suggests gratification of desire, any 
 idea which vividly pictures something affecting the welfare 
 of the self or of others, is apt to be followed by emotion. 
 Probably no one can even imagine a person in a burning 
 car, or lying helpless with broken limbs on a lonely road, 
 without feeling the emotion of pity arise. 
 
 Contrast Necessary for the Full Development of Emo- 
 tional States. The principle of contrast holds good with 
 stimuli of all classes, and especially with those which 
 produce feeling that passes into emotion. If a pickle 
 is eaten immediately after candy, the stimulus is more 
 pronounced. A dead level of either pleasurable or pain- 
 ful emotion cannot maintain its intensity for a great 
 length of time. If a child is scolded once in a while, 
 the admonition may do some good ; but ceaseless fault- 
 finding will end by producing little emotional response. 
 In fact, chronic fault-finders take the most effective means 
 of rendering others callous to their complaints. 
 
 Failure to understand this principle of contrast is the 
 cause of much disappointment in actual life. The student 
 argues from the pleasures of one holiday to three months' 
 or a whole year's vacation ; but he soon finds that having 
 nothing definite to do grows very tiresome. He frequently 
 wishes school to begin that the monotony may be relieved. 
 Children often take intense pleasure in a single piece of 
 pie, and they fancy that if they could have four pieces at 
 one time their pleasure would be four times as great ; 
 whereas the first piece seemed so good because it came
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 28 1 
 
 in the nature of a change. Young people often think, 
 from the enjoyment received in spending a five dollar bill 
 just as they please, that, if they had a million dollars to 
 spend, the pleasure would be two hundred thousand times 
 as great. A large part of the delight from spending a 
 small sum is due to the contrast between having nothing 
 to spend and being able to'buy a few luxuries. The fallacy 
 that unlimited wealth brings unlimited pleasure is a very 
 common one. It ought to be remembered as an axiom, 
 that the emotional world is one of change. 
 
 For explanation of this principle of contrast, we are, at 
 the last analysis, forced to look to the nervous system. 
 We find two reasons : (i) The nerve cells lose their 
 energy for continuous keen response to the same stimuli. 
 (2) Long-continued stimuli tend to make new reflex paths 
 in the nervous matter. A reflex response is never accom- 
 panied with intense consciousness of the cause. 
 
 The Emotions and Health. The best general tonics in 
 the world are hope, joy, and its "various synonyms, con- 
 tentment, cheerfulness, mirthfulness." The reverse is true 
 of grief, fear, and anger. There is an old saying that grief 
 will kill a cat. The first emotional hygienic law is : e 
 rhf-p-rjnl. Through the hole made by a gunshot wound in 
 the abdomen of a certain man, the process of digestion was 
 visible. The doctors noticed that whenever he experienced 
 any of the depressing emotions, such as grief, fear, or 
 anger, the digestive process stopped at once. 
 
 Dr. Benjamin Ward Richardson well says: "The pas} 
 sions which act most severely on the physical life are\ 
 anger, fear, hatred, and grief. The other passions are\ 
 comparatively innocuous. ... Of all the passions I 
 have enumerated as most detrimental fft ]jf
 
 282 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 stands first. He is a man very rich indeed in physical 
 power who can afford to be angry. The richest cannot 
 afford it many times without insuring the penalty, a pen- 
 alty that is always severe. . . . We say a man was ' red ' 
 with rage, or we say he was ' white ' with rage, by which 
 terms, as by degrees of comparison, we express the extent 
 of his fury. Physiologically, we are then speaking of the 
 nervous condition of the minute circulation of his blood : 
 that 'red' rage means partial paralysis of minute blood- 
 vessels; that 'white' rage means temporary suspension of 
 the action of the prime mover of the circulation itself. 
 But such disturbances cannot often be produced without 
 the occurrence of permanent organic evils of the vital 
 organs, especially of the heart and of the brain." 
 
 The feeling of r hop_e that accompanies faith has remark- 
 able clirntJY^ pfifcrts upon the body. Sir Humphry Davy 
 was sent for to treat a man with a paralyzed limb. Sir 
 Humphry intended to administer some nitrous oxide gas 
 as a specific ; but, before doing this, he wished to take the 
 patient's temperature, and so inserted a small clinical ther- 
 mometer under the man's tongue. The paralytic evidently 
 thought this little thermometer possessed some wonderful 
 magnetic or electrical power, for he declared that he felt 
 its helpful influence all over his body. His confidence 
 in Sir Humphry was so great that the latter concluded 
 not to give any medicine. Every day for a fortnight he 
 inserted the thermometer under the tongue of the patient, 
 who was discharged cured at the end of that time. 
 
 Some of the wonderful cures stated to have taken place 
 at the shrines of saints are undoubtedly true. The strong 
 hopeful emotions which patients would feel under such 
 circumstances could not help acting as a powerful restora- 
 tive. The English monarchs used to have regular days for
 
 FEELING AND EMOTION. 283 
 
 curing certain diseases by touch. The hopeful emotions 
 of patients thus touched sometimes performed astonishing 
 cures. On the other hand, the story of Goody Blake and 
 Harry Gill is said to have had an actual source. When 
 listening to her imprecations beneath the cold moon, he 
 may have been impressed with the fear that she had the 
 superhuman powers of a witch. We thus are better ena- 
 bled to understand what reasons there may have been for 
 the belief in witchcraft. 
 
 A young Englishwoman was passing by Deptford Ceme- 
 tery at dusk when some one with a white muffler over his 
 face rushed out and chased her. The powerful emotion 
 of fear thus raised paralyzed her heart, and she died. An 
 autopsy revealed no trouble in any organ except the heart. 
 
 Dr. Tuke concludes his chapter on the influence of the 
 emotions upon the bodily sensations by saying : " There is 
 no sensation, whether general or special, excited by agents 
 acting upon the body from without, which cannot be excited 
 also from within by emotional states affecting the sensory 
 centers, such sensations being referred by the mind to the 
 point at which the nerve terminates in the body." 
 
 Contagion of Emotion by Sympathy. It is remarkable 
 low quickly an emotion will spread from one individual to 
 others. The emotion of fear, which at first breaks out in a 
 a small detachment of an army, may soon throw the entire 
 lost into a panic. It is much easier for a speaker to move 
 a large audience than a small one. The more individuals 
 present, the greater is the chance that some will be respon- 
 sive to one kind of ideas ; others, to another kind. The emo- 
 :ion raised by either will tend to spread to those who might 
 not have been directly affected. In the history of the world, 
 ane man has repeatedly molded a mob to do his will.
 
 284 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Dr. Benjamin Ward Richardson instances the case of a 
 girl who occasionally visited where there was a relative 
 suffering with St. Vitus' dance. The girl soon sympa- 
 thetically acquired the contortions of countenance peculiar 
 to that disease, and she was never able to rid herself of 
 them. He also tells how the child of an English scientist 
 spontaneously commenced to imitate the contortions of 
 her father's patient, not in mockery, but as if governed by 
 uncontrollable impulse. From this child the disease spread 
 to another, and so on to a third. They recovered only 
 after being carefully separated from each other and from 
 the original cause. The writer knows a person who is a 
 confirmed stammerer, due to sympathetic imitation of a 
 stutterer. 
 
 /'bur emotional state is, in part, determined by the pre- 
 vailing emotional tone of those around us, and we at the 
 same time help to color their lives. All people tend to 
 reflect their surroundings. Even pictures of smiling faces 
 often cause the observers themselves to smile. It is 
 difficult to be sour in a merry company. Persons who 
 grow up in a cheerful family or community generally 
 catch the dominant emotion. Members of a family where 
 the usual tone is pessimistic or fault-finding, seldom prove 
 desirable to live with. The practical truth to be deduce"cS 
 from this is, not only to try to be cheerful one's self, but\ 
 to seek cheerful company. -/
 
 Q 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 
 
 Formation of Correct Emotional Habits. All emotions 
 deepen by repetition. If one allows an undesirable feel- 
 ing to master him once, he should be on the watch to 
 check that feeling at the start on the occasion of a second 
 manifestation. The man who falls into a rage once, falls 
 into the same emotion easier a second time ; the man who 
 keeps cool once under trying 'circumstances, will be more 
 easily able to control himself the next time. If a perso 
 forms the habit of being pleased with small things as 
 as great, joy may become his dominant emotion. After a 
 while he will find it hard work to become displeased with 
 many occurrences at which another is constantly grum- 
 bling. Looking on the bright side of life soon grows to 
 be as much of a habit as the reverse. 
 
 Some persons start a train of worrying emotions the 
 moment a move is made. If a member of the family 
 goes driving, a runaway is the only possible end ; if 
 walking, something ill must result ; if sailing or row- 
 ing, drowning must be the outcome. On the other 
 hand, a person accustomed to look on the bright side 
 of life feels a pleasurable glow of emotion in thinking how 
 much enjoyment the absent one is probably experiencing 
 from the drive, the walk, the sail, or the row. Any person 
 can, to a certain extent, bring about a desired emotional 
 
 285
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 change by summoning only those ideas which tend to raist 
 the desired emotions. If a relative crosses the Atlantic, 
 and if those at home desire to have a joyful feeling in the 
 ascendency, let them think of the strength, comfort, and 
 careful management of the steamships, of the far less pro- 
 portional loss of life from water than from land travel. If 
 the emotion of grief is desired, let ideas be summoned of 
 icebergs, fogs, collisions, people starving in open boats, 
 and drowned persons tossed upon the beach by the waves. 
 r^*The truth cannot be too strongly emphasized, that a 
 I habit of emotional feeling is, at the outset, often the result 
 [of an intellectual habit. Summon different ideas to the 
 mind, and notice how the emotion changes with the idea. 
 Let a messenger implant in a mother's mind the idea 
 that her son has just been killed in an accident. Every 
 one knows what kind of an emotion will follow. Let 
 a second messenger come, saying that the boy is not 
 dead but only injured, probably not fatally. Another 
 emotion follows the lead of that idea. Let a third mes- 
 senger come with the news that a mistake has been made 
 in the identification, that her son is uninjured. A dif- 
 ferent emotion follows this idea. T n rppregg r^n-^n tr^i n c 
 
 repress thfi irlpgg that- g-i'v^ t-Viprq frjrU 1 This 
 will have restraining power, even where the emotional 
 state tends to bring up a consonant idea, just as a fire 
 may suggest the idea of putting fuel on it. 
 
 Culture by the Repression of Emotional Expression. 
 The nervous concomitants of emotion demand attention as 
 well as the intellectual elements. As we have seen, ner- 
 vous action is a strong element in emotion. Has a person 
 any control over his nerves ? One would think that only 
 very young children would ask such a question, but such
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 287 
 
 is not the case. We innervate our motor nerves and start 
 to pick up a pear. We notice a hornet on the pear, and 
 we inhibit the movement. By restraining the expression 
 of an emotion, we can frequently throttle it ; by inducing 
 an expression, we can often cause its allied emotion. 
 
 Professor James says: "Refuse to express a passion and 
 it = jdififi. Count ten before venting your anger, and its 
 occasion seems ridiculous. Whistling to keep up courage 
 is no mere figure of speech. On the other hand, sit all 
 day in a moping posture, sigh, and reply to everything 
 with a dismal voice, and your melancholy lingers. There 
 is no more valuable precept in moral education than this, 
 as all who have experience know : If we wish to conquer 
 undesirable emotional tendencies in ourselves, we must 
 assiduously, and in the first instance cold-bloodedly, go 
 through the outward movements of those contrary dispo- 
 sitions which we prefer to cultivate. . . . Smooth the 
 brow, brighten the eye, contract the dorsal rather than 
 the ventral aspect of the frame, and speak in a major 
 key, pass the genial compliment, and your heart must be 
 frigid indeed if it does not gradually thaw" (i). Thus w 
 see that if we put on a cheerful air, the expression will! 
 react upon our feelings and make us actually happier. 
 Some persons have become habitually morose from allow-J 
 ing expression to their incipient disagreeable feelings. J 
 
 Novices frequently make the mistake of thinking that 
 intense expression of emotion indicates not only a char- 
 acter rich in feeling, but also one that will make great 
 unselfish sacrifices for the welfare of others. The truth 
 lies generally in the opposite direction. Many persons 
 expend all their energies in the expression of emotion 
 and have none left for action. Some demonstrative people 
 find it difficult to understand that to feel intense sympathy
 
 288 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 is not the same as to exert themselves in actually reliev- 
 ing distress. The world could very well spare a millioii 
 of those who only feel for a dozen of those who act. 
 
 Culture of the Altruistic and Moral Emotions. Enr, 
 
 lightened sympathy is at the basis of all ethks^. The 
 steps leading to intelligent sympathetic emotion have 
 already been pointed out. To give it practical material 
 to work with, one must go out into the world, observe 
 carefully instances of happiness and misery, sickness and 
 poverty, disappointment and heartache from life's hundred- 
 handed causes. Occasional visits to the sick and suffer- 
 ing poor frequently serve to stimulate altruistic emotion 
 strongly. One cannot grow sympathetic if he shuts him- 
 self^wayJr.Qjm_jthe^ world. For this reason an only chilu 
 is generally selfish. If a kitten is to be kept as a pet, it 
 should be brought up with other kittens. It will then 
 learn in the school of experience the pains due to playful 
 scratches, and scratch less often. 
 
 The experience of young persons is generally too limited 
 for their moral emotions to be well developed. The young 
 need to be brought face to face with that additional human 
 action which is given in the pages of history and of fic- 
 tion. Such characters as Nero, Luther, Alfred the Great, 
 Cromwell, Napoleon, Wellington, Washington, Clarkson, 
 and Wilberforce will leave their mark on the moral emo- 
 tions. The religious persecutions, the Spanish conquest 
 of Mexico and Peru, the treatment of the American Indian, 
 the drama of human slavery, all are historic actions which 
 have a powerful moral bearing The pages of the greatest 
 novelists teerh with actions which call forth our moral 
 approval or disapproval. The tone of the family, thel 
 school, and the community, in which a person is brought]
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 289 
 
 lup, has a constant powerful effect in molding his moral 
 jemotions. No one will ever cultivate these to the best 
 advantage unless he constantly watches his own actions 
 and notes their effect upon others, unless fre frequently 
 puts himself in another's place. This necessitates culture 
 of the reasoning powers and of the imagination. 
 
 Culture of the Esthetic Emotions. The three elements 
 in aesthetic feeling the sensuous, the intellectual, and the 
 associative indicate the line of cultivation. One's nerves 
 as well as one's muscles improve with exercise. We have 
 said before that no amount of exercise will enable a 
 weak man's muscles to equal a Sullivan's, but they will 
 improve. This truth must be maintained in the face of 
 the false assertion that a man's nerves, brain, and other 
 parts of his body are given him once for all and are sub- 
 ject to no improvement. It is a matter of record that 
 nerves have improved in discriminating power, whether 
 in reference to sound, colors, taste, touch, or odors. With; 
 exercise on the proper objects, the nervous mechanism 
 concerned in the feeling of sensuous beauty can be im 
 proved. Flowers, leaves, sunsets, paintings, varied seen 
 ery, all will contribute to the cultivation of this factor 
 of aesthetic feeling. Lack of this exercise early in life 
 will permanently weaken the power. 
 
 The rules for the cultivation of thought apply equally 
 well to the intellectual factor of aesthetics. The tracing 
 out of unity amid variety, of symmetry, harmony, and 
 rhythm in any branch of study, puts one on the right 
 road to this culture. One feels a touch of aesthetic feel- 
 ing in discovering the unity of relation between anything 
 so varied as the leaves of a tree and the lungs of a man, 
 or the analogy between the human soul and the butterfly. 
 HAI.I.KCK'S PSYC. 19
 
 \wxrurluUiL 
 
 290 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 The study of the best poetry is specially fitted to cultivate 
 the aesthetic emotions on the intellectual side. 
 
 To get the fullest amount of beauty due to association 
 requires universal cultivation. The great truths of nature, 
 of history, of biography, and of literature must be known. 
 The more a traveler knows of the associations clustering 
 around the various places that he visits, the more aesthetic 
 gratification will he receive. If he stands on the wind- 
 swept promontory of Whitby without knowing that it is 
 the birthplace of English song, or the story of the poet 
 who there first struck the lyre which Milton afterwards 
 took up ; if the Trosachs are visited before Scott's Lady 
 of the Lake has been read ; if a trip is taken up the 
 Hudson by one unfamiliar with Washington Irving's 
 works, much beauty will in every case be lost. 
 
 In general, we may say with Allen that "good taste 
 is the progressive product of progressing fineness and 
 discrimination in the nerves, educated attention, high and 
 noble emotional constitution, and increasing intellectual 
 faculties " (2). To cultivate the aesthetic emotions, it i3 
 absolutely necessary to remove the attention from tha 
 self and to make it objective. One selfish element shat- 
 ters this feeling. It is hard for a conceited or a selfish 
 person to find beauty in anything but himself. A person 
 always desirous of self-aggrandizement, whether in the 
 direction of money or influence, can rarely get much aes- 
 thetic comfort from the world, because his thoughts have 
 become habituated to running selfward. 
 
 ENJOYMENT AS A FINE ART. 
 
 The Object of Life. With the passing of asceticism 
 and its abuse of the body, the feeling that it is wicked
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 291 
 
 to be happy has slowly declined. The belief that it is 
 one's duty to enjoy this life, is slowly prevailing. Logi- 
 cally, there are three, and only three, possible alternatives 
 in life. We can plan (i) to be happy, (2) to be unhappy, 
 (3) to be neither happy nor unhappy, but in a neutral 
 state like sleep or unconsciousness. We are limited 
 absolutely to these three courses. This logical division 
 shows that the only point for dispute relates to the means 
 to be employed for securing happiness, misery, or a neutral 
 condition. 
 
 Any order of beings that prefers pain to pleasure is 
 speedily eliminated by the conditions of existence. If 
 one constantly picked up red-hot irons, drank strong acids 
 or boiling water, or wounded his body, he would soon 
 perish. Pain is an alarm bell rung to warn us that some 
 part of tfre body is suffering- disintegration. Pain is beau- 
 tiful only as a series of well-directed signals to warn us 
 that we are treading on dangerous places ; it is the result 
 of bodily impairment or moral sin. It must be empha- 
 sized at the outset, however, that ill adaptation to environ- 
 ment and the existence of sin render it absolutely impos- 
 sible that we should escape all pain ; only the amount 
 ought not to be thoughtlessly or needlessly increased. 
 But the pains due to selfishness and lack of sympathy 
 will be found greater than those involved in the effort 
 to be unselfish and sympathetic. This has been suffi- 
 ciently emphasized in preceding sections. 
 
 There must also be a sharp distinction drawn between 
 what is merely distasteful and what is painful. A pupil 
 may have a distaste for study, but he will never amount 
 to anything, nor lay the foundations of happiness, unless he 
 conquers that distaste. Again, actions which are painful 
 at the start may, through the adaptation of the organism
 
 2Q2 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 or the mental powers, come to be positively pleasur- 
 able. On the other hand, things which are accompa- 
 nied with pleasure at the start often bring lasting pain. 
 Hence, in seeking for enjoyment, the future must ever be 
 borne in mind. Only those actions are to be recom- 
 mended, which bring the greatest permanent elements of 
 enjoyment to the greatest number. One individual may 
 have to perish to save others. Such is the law of- life. 
 
 Factors in Enjoyment. The factors in enjoyment will 
 repay careful study. In order to enjoy anything, there must, 
 first, be something to enjoy. In order to enjoy a house in 
 cold weather, one must first have the house. If the sitting- 
 room is handsomely furnished ; if there are entertaining 
 pictures, ornaments, books, a handsome carpet and furni- 
 ture, there is something more to enjoy. But this is not all ; 
 in fact, it is less than half. A person racked with pain 
 could not enjoy the room ; health, also is npic.essafv-ief 
 An uncultivated person could not derive much 
 
 pleasure from the pictures, the delicate ornaments, and the 
 books ; ajcultiyated mind must be had. If the inmates flew 
 into fits of rage, or acted inconsiderately and selfishly, there 
 would be heartaches and unhappiness ; ihejejmist, there- 
 fore, be moral control, the control of the emotions. 
 
 It is well to notice that there are several factors in 
 enjoyment, all as necessary as the heart, the lungs, the 
 liver, and the stomach are to the body. A discussion 
 between the heart and the lungs in regard to which is 
 the more necessary, would be extremely unprofitable. Life 
 could not be maintained in the absence of either organ. 
 An ill-clad, homeless person out in the wintry night, with 
 the sleet cutting him like a lash, lacks what may be called 
 the objective elements of happiness, e.g. good clothes and
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 293 
 
 a warm home. All the preaching in the world will not 
 make this man happy ; he has nothing to enjoy. 
 
 The S2tbjective, or rather the personal, elements of hapti 
 piness are (i) health, (2) intellectual education, (3) cultivated^ 
 emotions, and (4) a trained imll. Diminish any one of] 
 these factors and the capacity for enjoyment is lessened. 
 
 In order to enjoy food, there must be something to eat 
 as well as a good stomach, and a good stomach as well as 
 something to eat. Asceticism failed of enjoyment and made 
 its devotees wretched, because it neglected the objective 
 side of pleasure. Materialism has not brought permanent] 
 happiness, because sufficient attention has not been paid 
 to the subjective factors, especially morals. 
 
 Occasional change, or contrast, is a necessary factor for 
 enjoyment. Leisure is much more enjoyed after a period 
 of hard work. The buds and blossoms of the spring thrill 
 us with pleasure after the barrenness of the winter, but 
 the pleasure soon declines because of the well-known emo- 
 tional law based on declining nervous response and intel- 
 lectual attention. We enjoy travel because there is an 
 element of constant change in it, but we should grow 
 weary if we traveled all the time. 
 
 The man of one idea, who keeps himself in one routine 
 of thought or business, may go through life with few pains 
 but he will not know what varied, keen enjoyment is 
 This is the strongest possible argument for a liberal edu- 
 cation. A person so trained has many points of attach 
 ment to the pleasures of life. He drinks in fuller measure 
 of the cup passed to him in the hands of variety and con- 
 trast. His tastes are not narrow. But we must caution 
 those naturally fickle, that this principle of contrast wil 
 not work unless there are periods of unremitting labor on 
 some one thing. The mind cannot appreciate contras*
 
 294 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 nntil the mental powers have fathomed the subject in 
 hand. Some persons insist on so much change, that the 
 change is the rule ; and there is no contrast in one line 
 of action, even if that line is constant change. 
 
 It must not be supposed that only the wealthy can 
 bring into their lives the element of change requisite 
 for enjoyment. If one keeps himself on the alert for 
 contrast and change, he will be astonished to find out 
 how much may come even to the meanest life, if there 
 is the intellect to observe and the imagination to gild. 
 Scotland's greatest poet was a poor plowman, but he 
 had an eye for contrast, and a power to make the most 
 out of the paltry changes in his life. To all there comes 
 the quiet of the winter, followed by one of the most 
 pleasing imaginable changes, the budding life of spring. 
 Changeful Nature ushers in the summer with its varied 
 fruits, and then the autumn with its harvest and won- 
 derful coloring. Each period of twenty-four hours brings 
 remarkable changes the sunrise glinting on dew or frost 
 or alchemizing the clouds, the full day with its inflowing 
 tide of industry, the glowing sunset, and the starry night. 
 This is a wonderful world of change, and the life of a 
 person of varied culture can never be humdrum. 
 
 Another strong factor in enjoyment is activity. Inactive 
 persons never attain high enjoyment. Pleasure is an in- 
 variable accompaniment of activity of the right kind. The 
 power to enjoy one's self is augmented by every increase 
 of bodily and mental vigor. One must have an aim in life 
 and be active in accomplishing something. Tljgre is more 
 in wearing. than in rusting, out. 
 
 Pretensions Fatal to Enjoyment. The giving up of 
 many pretensions is absplutely necessary to happiness.
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 295 
 
 Many of the pretensions with which an individual starts 
 in life are not of the slightest use to him. He causes 
 himself much trouble in maintaining them before the 
 world, because it will judge him by his success in playing 
 the character he assumes. There are innumerable persons 
 1r>-Hay hpraiisp r>f thfir mngiral, qfhktJC. and 
 
 prfitf nsirm<; People are constantly weighing 
 
 themselves down by pretending to knowledge of which* 1 
 they have only a smattering, to the possession of a small * 
 foot made by wearing a torturing shoe, to a petite figurfc/ 
 secured at the expense of deformity, to be wealthy wheiT 
 they are forced to run in debt. Laying aside the burden 
 of these pretensions would give them a chance to enjoy 
 themselves. If a person makes no pretensions to a knowl- 
 edge of art, Italian, chemistry, architecture, music, or sail* 
 ing a boat, people will think nothing of his ignorance in 
 these matters. He will be judged by what he does pre* 
 tend to know, and no sensible person will expect him to 
 be a universal genius. UJvoJui^xx, fiU\5_ P^oSfU^ C^o 
 teSt t> eoutAjLA %juxn \oR*LoX ^x. 
 Enjoyment by Indirect Means. It has been said thai 
 enjoyment never comes when searched for, that pleasure 
 must be obtained by indirect means, that it comes as a 
 gratuity only when something else, e.g. duty, is the para- 
 mount object. This statement is probably more than 
 three quarters true, yet the fact that it is not entirely so 
 has caused many to repudiate the theory completely. If 
 a person went to Europe with the prime object of enjoying 
 the trip ; if two years before he started he began to read 
 about the points of interest in the countries he intended 
 to visit, with the sole object of receiving enjoyment there- 
 from, his pleasure on the trip would not thereby be 
 lessened. A theatrical performance will probably be en-
 
 296 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 joyed just as much, if one attends it for the purpose ot 
 receiving direct pleasure. 
 
 Asceticism taught the opposite view. But in spite of 
 these self-evident instances to the contrary, it is true that, 
 if one makes selfish enjoyment his pursuit, he will ulti- 
 mately fail in the attainment. A trip abroad would bet 
 vastly more enjoyed, if there were an agreeable companion! 
 to share the pleasure. It is a matter of record that enjoy- 
 ment of the very highest type has come from making 
 others happy. He that seeketh his own selfish life of 
 pleasure shall lose it, is a statement, the truth of which 
 is every year demonstrated by the selfish ; for they shut 
 themselves out of the world of keenest enjoyment. 
 
 Necessity of Early Learning How to Enjoy. There is 
 a time in the lives of almost all when the emotions are 
 ripe for certain courses of action. The desire will cease 
 if the means for gratification are neglected for a certain 
 length of time. The boy who, from timidity or lack of 
 leisure, neglects athletic sports will soon find that his love 
 for them is gone. To take them up at a later time will 
 seem strange and irksome to him. 
 
 There are persons who have been enthusiastic travelers 
 until past seventy, because their youthful passion for see- 
 ing something of the world was gratified when the emotion 
 was strong. It was repressed in others who had the desire 
 equally strong. At the age of forty they found, when aA 
 chance for travel finally presented itself, that strange food, 
 strange beds, strange people, strange climates, with the 
 interruption of established habits, brought more discom- 1 
 fort than pleasure. These persons returned to their old 
 haunts, wondering what enjoyment theii former associates 
 could find in being carried around from pillar to post,
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE EMOTIONS. 
 
 297 
 
 chilled with Alpine cold and bitten by Italian fleas. And 
 yet if these disgusted people had traveled while desire was 
 strong and adaptability great, the fleas and frosts would 
 have been only small clouds in the sky of pleasure. 
 
 A desire for reading about people in strange countries, 
 an interesting historical epoch, or the deeds of some great 
 man, is generally present in youth. If not, the desire may 
 then be easily cultivated, whereas it cannot be in later life. 
 Again and again have persons, whose early training was 
 neglected, endeavored to acquire a liking for reading. 
 Time hung heavy; they had no entertaining company; 
 but they simply could not get interested in books. The 
 twi r^'iH have b^p" hpnt-, hnt {;b p tree cannot. 
 
 I 
 
 A study of animals has shown that, in many cases an 
 instinct will die unless it is gratified at the proper time. 
 Dogs have been kept on a hard floor while young until 
 their instinct for burying food had passed away. A hen 
 took her litter of chickens to a lake and endeavored to get 
 them to swim. She had previously hatched only ducks 
 and had thus formed a new habit of caring for her young. 
 " Mr. Spalding tells me of a friend of his who reared a gos- 
 ling in the kitchen, away from all water ; when this bird 
 was some months old and was taken to a pond, it not only 
 refused to go into the water, but when thrown in, scram- 
 bled out again as a hen would have done. Here was an 
 instinct entirely suppressed " (3). 
 
 The same analogy holds good in the vegetable world. 
 Seeds will sprout only under the right conditions ; and 
 after they have sprouted, they will die unless they soon 
 have the proper soil in which to grow. 
 
 All these arguments show that it is of prime importance 
 to nourish, in the bud, all those inclinations, tending to 
 develop in us powers which may be the basis of much
 
 298 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 future enjoyment. On the other hand, if an early im- 
 moral tendency, whether toward strong drink, gambling, 
 or other form of vice, is repressed, the desire in that direc- 
 tion will grow weaker and weaker, and finally die for lack 
 of food. Nature emphasizes the fact that she has one 
 time for a thing. The thoughtless person may delude 
 himself with the idea that he can plant his Indian corn 
 in the autumn. So he can, but Nature will not allow him 
 to reap a harvest. 
 
 he duty of enjoyment should be taught as a question 
 of morals. Deprivation of food and clothing weakens the 
 Dody. Deprivation of pleasure tends to make the life hard, 
 unimaginative, and hence unsympathetic. Pleasures are 
 argely the result of the play of the imagination and the 
 cinder graces in general. More than half our pleasure"! 
 comes from anticipation, and that is a manifestation of the \ 
 constructive imagination. Those who have paid but little 
 attention to judicious enjoyment are generally not pleasant 
 to live with. Their narrowness and want of sympathy 
 
 chill all with whom they come in contact 
 
 ^ * / / 
 
 AUTHORITIES QUOTE 
 
 1. James's Principles of Psychology, Vol. II., pp. 462-3. 
 
 2. Grant Allen's Physiological ^Esthetics, p. 48. 
 
 3. Lewes's Problems of Life and Mind, quoted by James, Princi- 
 ples of Psychology, Vol. II., p. 400.
 
 ^ CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ^ THE WILL. 
 
 , IMPULSIVE, AND INSTINCTIVE ACTION. 
 
 Will Differentiated from Other Mental Powers.' Will 
 concerns itself with action. The student must keep that 
 fact before him, no matter how complex the process seems. 
 As we proceed, we shall see that the will is restricted to 
 certain kinds of action. From the cradle to the grave, wjg 
 are never passive recipients of anything; in other words, 
 we are never without the activity of will in the broadest 
 
 nf the 
 
 How shall we distinguish between feeling and will,? 
 There is no more precise line of demarcation than exists 
 between the Atlantic Ocean and Davis Strait. We saw, 
 while studying sensation and perception, that the various 
 mental powers worked in such unison that it was hard to 
 separate them exactly from each other. The difficulty is 
 especially great in separating feeling from will, because 
 there so often seems to be no break between the two 
 processes. We are aided in marking off these powers 
 by two sets of experiences, (i) We sometimes experience 
 feelings from which no marked action results. They 
 evaporate, leaving no trace in the world of action. (2) We 
 feel sorry for the poor or the sick, and leave our comfort- 
 able homes, perhaps on a stormy day, to go to help them. 
 It is plain that there is an added element in the second 
 
 299
 
 300 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 experience. That element is will, which was not obtru- 
 sively present in the first experience. The germ may have 
 been there, but not the full flower. 
 
 Whenever there is in emotion a motor element which 
 tends to go out in action, that element is will. When I 
 feel angry and strike, or grateful and assist some one, the 
 striking and assisting are the result of a peculiar, active 
 power, which we call will. In some emotions, the volun- 
 tary element may be so small as to baffle detection, but 
 the germ is there. 
 
 We can also roughly differentiate intellect from will by 
 two sets of experiences: (i) When a loud clap of thunder 
 assaults our ears, when unsought ideas drift into our minds, 
 when crape on a door suggests death, when dream images 
 follow each other unsought and undesired, there is no 
 marked element of will in these intellectual manifesta- 
 tions. (2) When we innervate our auditory nerves to 
 catch some slight sound, when we detain an idea until 
 its desired associate is recalled, when we hold two ideas 
 before the mind to compare them, we are using will 
 power. Wherever consciousness displays active attention, 
 there is will. 
 
 Foundations of Will. Since the will has to do with 
 action, we must first familiarize ourselves with the poten- 
 tial capabilities of will, for these are antecedent to the 
 higher type of volition. The more developed capacities 
 of will are furthered, or hampered, by causes operative 
 below the stream of consciousness. Sometimes we do 
 things which astonish ourselves as much as other people. 
 Our actions are conditioned by our nervous systems, 
 which have, in turn, been modified by all the past ex- 
 periences of our ancestry. The peculiar structure and
 
 THE WILL. 3OI 
 
 adaptability of the nervous system, with the unconscious 
 modification which experience constantly causes it to 
 undergo, exert a force which makes itself felt in every 
 voluntary decision. Each day's experience passes into 
 an unconscious product, which will affect our decisions 
 for all future time. 
 
 Different Types of Action. Approaching the will first 
 from the lower side, we may classify actions as follows, 
 and then proceed to treat them in order : 
 
 I. Unconscious refiex action. A typical example of this 
 appears in the unconscious movement of a sleeper's hand, 
 when touched. 
 
 II. Conscious refiex action. This is illustrated by a 
 sensation which reaches the brain, and hurriedly passes 
 out in motor action, so that consciousness is merely a 
 passive spectator. The winking of the eye due to the 
 sensation of light is an example. 
 
 III. Impulsive action. Here a hazy idea of a purpose 
 toward which the action tends, makes its appearance. 
 In the two preceding cases there was not the slightest 
 idea of purpose in actions, for they had either begun, or 
 were completed, before consciousness realized their aim or 
 object. The word "impulse" is popularly used in several 
 different ways. We here mean an incentive toward a 
 dimly conscious end. In impulse there is no such con- 
 sciousness of power to choose between different alterna- 
 tives as exists in higher voluntary action. 
 
 IV. Instinctive action. This cannot always be separated 
 from impulsive action, but there are generally some quali- 
 ties which roughly mark off the two kinds of action. In- 
 stinct gives complex action toward a definite end which 
 is not foreseen, as when the silkworm spins her shroud.
 
 3O2 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 We may consider impulse as less complex in its workingSj 
 but marked by more consciousness of the purpose of the 
 action. 
 
 V. Deliberative action. We have now come to the high- 
 est type of action, but a type which could never have 
 existed except for the preceding types. Here, a deliberat- 
 ing will chooses between alternative courses of action. 
 Shall I spend this money for books, or for several other 
 things ? Shall I go to the theater to-night, or remain at 
 home ? In deliberative will there is a definite idea of the 
 object sought and of its worth. Thought is always present 
 to weigh in the balance opposing objects and actions. 
 
 In the following sections, we shall look at action from 
 these five different points of view. 
 
 Unconscious Reflex Action. 
 
 Complexity and Apparent Purposiveness. All human 
 action is conditioned by the nervous system. Nervous 
 cells have the very important power of performing uncon- 
 scious actions to effect a definite purpose. If the hand of 
 a sleeper is gently pinched, he will withdraw it, although 
 he knows nothing of the action. The sensory nerve will 
 convey to the spinal cord the stimulus caused by the 
 pinching. Nerve cells are there set in action, which flows 
 out by a motor nerve, and the hand is moved. 
 
 Reflex action is, strictly, action reflected back. The sim- 
 plest type of this may be shown in the case of a rope pass- 
 ing around a pulley and attached to a bucket. The pulley 
 " reflects " the force in the contrary direction. When one 
 side of the rope is pulled down, the bucket rises. The 
 spinal nervous ganglion here corresponds to the pulley, 
 and reflects the force which moves the muscle.
 
 THE WILL. 303 
 
 A reflex action is caused in two ways, (i) by an ex- 
 ternal stimulus to a sensory nerve, or (2) by the organic 
 condition of the nerves and body. Actions of this second 
 class are sometimes called spontaneous. Here we have a 
 capacity for internally originated movement. This spon- 
 taneity shows a marked advance over ordinary matter, for 
 a stone can be moved only from without. It cannot move 
 itself as can the amoeba. 
 
 It is sometimes hard to believe that reflex actions are 
 not consciously willed. We have seen that a decapitated 
 frog raises its hind foot to brush away a needle or a drop 
 of acid on its side ; if the leg on that side were amputated, 
 the other leg would display purposive endeavor to remove 
 the object. It is difficult to appreciate properly the com- 
 plexity of reflex action. Many movements which seem to 
 exhibit all the purposive guidance of the deliberative will 
 are nothing but reflex actions. Acts which were at first 
 consciously willed, often sink to the level of reflexes. 
 Such are walking, writing, balancing, and many other 
 muscular movements. 
 
 Law of Central Nervous Action. Whenever a sen- 
 sory stimulus is transmitted to central nerve cells, the 
 force is never lost, but it tends to flow out again in 
 motor action. 
 
 If water flows in by one of two equal-sized holes at the 
 same height, on opposite sides of a vertical cylinder, the 
 water must flow out as rapidly as it flows in, after it has 
 reached a given height. The inflowing stream may here 
 be likened to the stimulus transmitted by a sensory nerve ; 
 the cylinder corresponds to the central nerve cells, and 
 the outlet to the motor nerves. The amount of water 
 required to fill the cylinder up to the outlet corresponds
 
 304 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 to the inertia of nerve matter, to overcome which in- 
 ertia a certain amount of stimulus is expended before 
 motor action results. By central nerve cells, we here 
 mean ganglia in either the brain or the spinal cord. 
 Whenever a sensory stimulus pours into nerve cells, there 
 will be a tendency for it to pass out in motor action, 
 which causes muscular movement. This law holds equally 
 good for conscious or unconscious stimuli. If water flows 
 into a lake, there must be an adequate outlet or the lake 
 must rise. No force of any IgnH ia ever ^wallowed up and 
 lost without procuring- a^ Affect. It is well to remember 
 this as we proceed with the study of the will. We shall 
 find that our higher voluntary actions get their character 
 from this inflowing stream. They will vary as it has 
 varied, and will be colored by it. 
 
 Conscious Reflex Action. 
 
 Difference between Conscious and Unconscious Re- 
 flexes. Reflex action in its simplest form is unconscious. 
 The next higher stage of action passes through the lower 
 fringe of consciousness, so to speak, but is in no wise 
 swayed or deflected by consciousness. The student will 
 more easily understand the difference between conscious 
 and unconscious reflexes, by the aid of an analogous illus- 
 tration. Half a barrel hoop, or anything else which forms 
 a semicircle, may be used to represent the course of nerve 
 action. Holding the hoop vertically, immerse it completely 
 in a cask of water, which may represent the brain or 
 spinal ganglia. The air above the water represents con- 
 sciousness. If pressure is exerted at one end of the hoop, 
 the force will be transmitted through the arc to the other 
 end. This illustrates unconscious reflex action. Now
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 305 
 
 raise the hoop so that the top of the arc is above the 
 surface. Force applied at one end will be transmitted to 
 the other. This may serve as a type of conscious reflex 
 action. One half the arc to which pressure is applied cor- 
 responds to a sensory stimulus ; the other half, to motor 
 action. So long as the sensory stimulus passes into a 
 motor current beneath the stream of consciousness, the 
 resulting action is an unconscious reflex. If any part of 
 the action passes through consciousness, without being 
 affected by it, we have a conscious reflex. 
 
 The student will not have a clear idea of these different 
 types of action, unless he follows Tyndall's advice and 
 thinks them out by the aid of images. According to this 
 view, conscious reflex action, if changed at all, is imper- 
 ceptibly changed by passing through the lower stratum of 
 consciousness. Suppose, however, that the cask is filled 
 to the brim with water and that the air is in tense motion 
 because of a strong wind. Let the semicircular arc be 
 raised some distance above the surface of the water. If 
 pressure is applied to the end of the arc, there will still 
 be transmission to the other end. But here another de- 
 flecting force is felt, that of a strong wind blowing against 
 the hoop. This typifies the force exerted by conscious 
 attention, represented by the strong wind. The action 
 can no longer be called reflex ; another power has inter- 
 vened to change the direction of the reflex force. This 
 brings us to the highest type of action. 
 
 Unless we are prepared to adopt the unscientific hypoth- 
 esis that consciousness exists for no purpose, we can see 
 no difficulty in supposing that consciousness may thus 
 modify action. If we admit that things exist without a 
 purpose, we may as well stop study in any science. 
 
 We have here brought up higher voluntary action before 
 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 2O
 
 306 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 we are ready to proceed with its consideration, because it 
 is wise for the student to grasp the relations between 
 these three types of action. 
 
 Illustrations of Conscious Reflexes. When we jump or 
 scream because a loud sound is suddenly heard, the sensa- 
 tion consciously affects the brain, and passes into motor 
 action, with consciousness as a passive spectator ; or if 
 not passive, the deflecting force of consciousness is too 
 small to be measured. If, however, conscious attention 
 was already on the alert, the scream might be restrained, 
 and the force at the summit of the arc diffused in other 
 directions. 
 
 A conscious reflex action is directed by no idea of purpose. 
 We do not know why we scream or jump on hearing an un- 
 expected sound. A flash of light registers a sensation in the 
 brain, and we wink without knowing why. Conscious re- 
 flexes are generally unvarying, as we might expect, because 
 their direction is determined by nerve mechanics alone. 
 
 Summary. All kinds of reflex action may be likened 
 to an arc, one half of which is sensory, the other half 
 motor. The tendency of all action is to pass through the 
 entire arc. At the summit of the arc, we may suppose 
 nerve cells where the action is reflected. This summit 
 lies sometimes above, sometimes below the level of con- 
 sciousness, but the reflex action goes on its course un- 
 disturbed by it. Many actions once voluntary become 
 habitual reflexes with advancing life. No reflex action 
 shows the presence of will in its higher deliberative form, 
 although purposive reflexes may indicate a time when they 
 were the slowly formed products of all the individual's 
 intelligence and will power.
 
 THE WILL. 307 
 
 Impulsive Action. 
 
 Meaning of the Term. When the same word is used 
 in several different senses, the discussion tends to become 
 obscure, because of changing meaning. We must at the 
 outset note the different meanings attached to the word 
 " impulse." (i) It is used, in a physiological sense, to 
 express an unstable equilibrium among nerve cells, or a 
 tendency to pass into motor action. (2) Impulse, on the 
 mental side, is a condition of striving toward something 
 not clearly represented in consciousness. (3) Impulse is 
 a tendency to act in one direction and in one only. The 
 tendency is due to peculiarities of both nerve and mind. 
 The object sought for in impulse is not clearly foreshad- 
 owed. One is impelled to escape a present state of ten- 
 sion, and for that reason he acts We shall use " impulse " 
 in this third sense. 
 
 When impulse grows into a longing for a definite object, 
 we then call the mental state desire. When this state 
 make its appearance, the will has passed to a higher stage 
 of development. Impulse knows no conflict of motives, no 
 deliberation. The tendency is all in one direction. The 
 laws of some nations make a clear distinction between 
 impulsive and deliberate homicide. 
 
 Varieties of Impulse. While human impulses are as 
 numerous as the objects which bring pleasure or cause 
 pain, a very rough attempt may be made to classify them. 
 The most primary form of impulse is toward pleasure and 
 away from pain. As experience widens, impulses are felt 
 in the form of tendencies to go out toward relatives, com- 
 panions, money ; in short, impulses incite toward any 
 action tending to gratify the man physically, intellectu-
 
 308 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ally, aesthetically, or morally, and away from actions which 
 tend in the reverse direction. This statement has approxi- 
 mate truth, or the race would perish. 
 
 Some psychologists classify impulses according to 
 whether they are due (i) to sensation, (2) to perception, 
 or (3) to reproduced ideas or images. The impulse to 
 shrug the shoulders and draw the arms close to the body 
 results from the sensation of cold. Turning the head to 
 watch the flight of a bird across the field of vision is an 
 example of a perception impulse. To look for shelter when 
 clouds threaten rain, and before rain has actually fallen, 
 is an imagination impulse. Here, the imagination must 
 first represent the rain as actually falling, as a pictured 
 sensation impulse, before the action commences. 
 
 Conditions of Impulse. While nervous constitutions, 
 tension, and excitation furnish the physical basis of im- 
 pulse, we may say with Hoffding : " The psychological con- 
 dition of the impulse is, that with the momentary feeling 
 and sensation should be combined a more or less clear idea 
 of something which may augment the pleasure or diminish 
 the pain of the moment." 
 
 To illustrate the above statement, we may suppose a 
 mother hearing a noise in the room above her. A sensa- 
 tion is caused, directly fitted to start into action a latent 
 maternal impulse. This noise and the resulting sensation 
 are followed by the vague idea of a child in danger. With- 
 out stopping to deliberate, or to think for one second of an 
 alternative course of action, she rushes upstairs to set at 
 rest her painful apprehension, or to escape the torment of 
 uncertainty. Frequently the idea connected with impulse 
 is much more vague than this. We are sometimes haunted 
 with a painful sense of having forgotten something, we
 
 THE WILL. 309 
 
 cannot tell what, and we impulsively return to find out, 
 and thus rid ourselves of such an uncomfortable state of 
 consciousness. 
 
 Expressed briefly, the conditions of impulse are (i) cer- 
 tain nervous and mental tendencies, natural or acquired, 
 and (2) one idea more or less vague, suggesting an action 
 fitted to gratify these tendencies. 
 
 The fact that impulse has only one idea, allowing no 
 deliberation, must be noted. If the mother had stopped 
 to reflect on the cause of the noise, to wonder whether it 
 was due to a burglar or a child, to deliberate whether it 
 would be better for her to go upstairs or to send some one 
 else, even if she had finally gone herself, the action 
 would not have been due to impulse, but to a deliberative 
 act of will, where there was alternative choice between 
 different actions suggested by different ideas clearly repre- 
 sented to consciousness. 
 
 Instinctive Action. 
 
 Instinctive Action is Complex and Purposive without 
 Foresight of End. Whenever a conscious sensation, due 
 either to external or internal stimuli, results in purposive 
 action toward a given end which is not foreseen, that 
 action is instinctive. A young stork left alone in a north- 
 ern latitude would migrate southward on the approach of 
 autumn. Sensations of cold would furnish the stimuli 
 prompting instinctive action. If the bird had never been 
 south before, it could have no idea of the purpose of its 
 flight, although it would be action directed toward an intel- 
 ligent end. Certain sensations of organic origin prompt 
 the young bird to build its first nest. This bird has 
 never been taught, nor has it had any experience of, nest-
 
 310 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 building. Yet the first nest is constructed on the same 
 principles and fashioned as well as any of its successors. 
 All the actions the spreading of the wings in flight, 
 the gathering of grass, straw and twigs, the moistening of 
 the bill for making mud are a series of complex move- 
 ments blindly directed toward an intelligent end. 
 
 Instinctive Compared with Reflex Actions. Instinct has 
 much in common with reflex action. Whenever certain 
 stimuli are present, definite unvarying actions tend to re- 
 sult in both cases. We saw that a sensory stimulus on 
 the side of a decapitated frog was followed by a definite 
 action suited to remove the cause. When the caterpillar 
 feels certain stimuli, it mechanically begins to weave a 
 shroud in a blind, reflex way, and the action is continued 
 so long as the stimuli are operative. If a stork is con- 
 fined in a cage with iron bars, so strong as to shut off 
 hope of escape, when the stimulus of autumnal cold affects 
 the bird, it will repeatedly dash its breast against the bars 
 until it is bloody. The stimulus of cold here tends to 
 excite reflex action. Darwin says that a young salmon 
 kept in a tub of water will often leap out at a certain time, 
 and thus commit unintentional suicide. Here, a certain 
 stimulus caused the reflex muscular act of jumping. These 
 facts have led some psychologists, like Spencer, to call 
 instinct a compound reflex. 
 
 The difference in the two types of action is, in some 
 instances, very marked, (i) There is a difference in com- 
 plexity. A reflex movement is simpler and does not 
 generally involve the whole body in action. A limb may 
 be moved ; an eye winked ; one muscle contracted. When 
 a bird builds her nest, the instinctive tendency results in 
 movements of wings spread in flight, ocular search for
 
 THE WILL. 3H 
 
 materials, alighting, seizing them with either bill or claw, 
 carrying them to the proper place, and fixing them in 
 position. Here the instinctive movements constantly 
 change, and the one is not a mere repetition of the 
 other. 
 
 (2) There is a difference in the remoteness of the end 
 to be gained. A reflex act is usually directed toward some 
 immediate purpose ; but an ant will hoard grain for the 
 winter, and the caterpillar provide for a butterfly existence. 
 
 (3) There is a wider, if unconscious, intelligence in in- 
 stinctive acts. Bees construct larger cells for young queen 
 bees and feed the royal larvae with more and richer food, 
 although there is originally no difference between them and 
 the larvae of the workers. Simple reflex tendencies would 
 result in making all cells the same to start with, and in 
 feeding all the young in the same way. Hence, some call 
 all instincts examples of " lapsed intelligence " ; that is, 
 the actions were at first the result of a highly voluntary 
 process, but from continuous repetition they became un- 
 consciously habitual. 
 
 (4) Within a given time, instinct is subject to more 
 change than are reflexes. In the South Sea Islands a 
 species of bird accustomed to build nests on the ground, 
 placed them in trees after cats were introduced. Chickens 
 will at first instinctively follow the call of a hen, but 
 if they are kept away from her for a week, her cluck- 
 ing will not react on them in the same way, and they will 
 refuse to follow her. This change leading to the selection 
 of an alternative course of action, takes us a step forward 
 toward the higher exercise of will. 
 
 (5) Instinctive action is begun under the prompting of 
 richer conscious feeling, while there is generally no change 
 in conscious experience going before a reflex action, but
 
 312 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 only as a resultant of it. The sensation of cold causes 
 the stork to feel consciously miserable before it migrates. 
 Prior to instinctive action, there is probably always a 
 vague conscious feeling of being out of harmony with 
 the surroundings. 
 
 /"^ x. /" -\ 
 
 ' Instinctive Compared witlj Impulsive Actions. (i) In- 
 
 (f ^-^-^s" -^^\ff^ \l ") 
 
 stinct differs from impulse m having no idea of the end 
 of the action. When the young salmon leaped out of the v 
 tub, there was no idea of purpose in the action. We have 
 seen that impulse is marked by the presence of a more or 
 less vague idea of the object of the action. 
 
 (2) Instinct is more complex than impulse. An impulse 
 is preceded by one idea, and usually discharges swiftly 
 along one given line, disregarding any alternative action. 
 The beaver may make a hundred preliminary movements 
 before he actually begins the construction of his dam. 
 
 (3) Instinct is more remote in aim. Impulse tends 
 toward immediate gratification and away from present 
 pain. Instinct urges the bee to labor hard to gather 
 honey against the time when the flowers will be gone* 
 
 (4) Impulses vary much with individuals, while instincts 
 are common to a species. For example, some persons 
 have a strong impulsive tendency toward sensual gratifi- 
 cation, the pleasures of the table, or strong drink. Others, 
 are impelled toward intellectual pleasure; when a book 
 of travel, biography, or science is mentioned, they imme- 
 diately have an impulse to find out the facts which the 
 work contains. All the duck tribe instinctively love the 
 water. Instinct does not admit of individual variation on 
 a large scale. 
 
 On the other hand, instinct and impulse have some fac- 
 tors in common, (i) Neither action is the product of
 
 THE WILL. 313 
 
 deliberation. It never occurs to the swallow to weigh the 
 reasons between staying north all winter and flying south. 
 Impulsive action knows no alternative and no deliberation. 
 It may be objected that impulse does not always flow out 
 in action, that we sometimes deliberate whether it is better 
 to act or to refrain from acting, that we image beforehand 
 the consequences of a rash action and thus restrain it. 
 This is true, but such actions are not impulsive ; they are 
 the products of the highest form of deliberative will. An 
 impulsive action may in time come to be deliberately willed, 
 just as the caterpillar may take on the higher form of the 
 butterfly. All mental powers illustrate growth toward 
 complexity. 
 
 (2) After instinctive action has been once performed, a 
 certain amount of foresight of the end must remain in 
 memory. The hen that has once kept eggs warm until 
 they have hatched, must have a certain idea of the result 
 of the action when she again sits. By the law of conti- 
 guity, the association would run straight ahead to the 
 chickens. Hence, instinct is like impulse after a certain 
 amount of foresight has been gained in connection with 
 any action. This cannot, however, be said of the first 
 performance of any instinctive action, nor can it ever be 
 maintained in such cases as when the animal dies or 
 changes its form after an instinctive act. The silkworm 
 never has an idea of the end in weaving its shroud. 
 
 Human Instincts. Human beings are especially rich 
 in potential or germinal instinctive capacity, but this for 
 the most part needs to be developed by education and 
 experience. The infant instinctively reaches out his hand 
 toward things, grasps them, or turns his head toward 
 them. In short, a child has an indefinite number of
 
 314 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC 
 
 instinctive movements, but he cannot correlate" the 
 walking or swimming without experience or training. 
 
 A human mother does not need to be taught to love and 
 shield her child ; but human beings have comparatively fen 
 fully developed instincts because reason constantly sug- 
 gests new acts to meet varying emergencies. When 
 principle of change is introduced, an instinctive act is no 
 longer certain, and it is not always desirable. When the 
 climate changed in various parts of the world, the strong- 
 est animals frequently perished, as is shown by their fossil 
 remains. Man possessed the power of progressive reason- 
 ing, which enabled him to change his instinctive acts to 
 meet changing exigencies. Human actions are to-day in- 
 stinctive ones, broken up into parts and then recombined 
 under the laws of imagination, thought, and will, to meet 
 the constantly varying requirements of civilized life. 
 
 Summary of the Chief Features of Instinctive Actions. 
 
 (1) They are prompted by intra- or extra-organic stimuli. 
 
 (2) The resulting movements seem intelligent, because they 
 have a direction that shows a plan. (3) They resemble 
 reflexes in being the unvarying result of certain stim- 
 uK. (4) They are unlike reflexes, in being : (a) more com- 
 plex, (b) more remote in aim, (c} more broadly purposeful, 
 (d} more subject to modification or change, (<?) preceded by 
 more conscious feeling, (/) more rich in furnishing com- 
 plex acts which can afterwards be separated and combined 
 by deliberative will. (5) They agree with impulses : (a) in 
 lack of deliberation, (b) in foresight of end after the same 
 instinctive acts have been repeated. (6) They differ from 
 impulses : (a) in having in their first performance no idea 
 of the end of the action ; (6) in being less simple and in 
 embracing more acts to achieve the given end ; (c) in the
 
 THE WILL. 315 
 
 promptings lasting for a longer time ; (d) in being more 
 uniform in regard to the class. (7) Complex instinctive 
 acts, in the case of human beings, have been (a) split up 
 into simpler parts, and (b) recombined into new forms to 
 meet the changing needs of progressive 
 
 HIGHER DELIBERATIVE ACTION. 
 
 The Factors. Higher voluntary processes are marked 
 off from actions of a lower order : (i) by a distinct idea of 
 the end of the actiorj, (2) by desire, (3) by consciousness 
 of alternatives which afford an opportunity for choice, 
 (4) by deliberation, (5) by a feeling of voluntary effort, 
 or by sensations due to muscular movement as a resultant 
 of such effort. 
 
 Voluntary Attention. The first step toward the devel- 
 opment of will lies in the exercise of attention. There is 
 a sense of conscious effort in voluntary attention. This 
 suffices to mark it off from the involuntary type. When 
 there is a flash of lightning, we attend involuntarily ; 
 when we look into a microscope to discriminate between 
 the atoms seen floating there, we put voluntary effort into 
 our attention. 
 
 Ideas grow in distinctness and in motor power as we 
 attend to them. If we take two ideas of the same inten- 
 sity and center the attention upon one, we shall notice 
 how much it grows in power. Take the sensations from 
 two aches in the body and fix attention upon the one. 
 That idea will grow in motor power until we may act in 
 a direction supposed to relieve that special pain, while the 
 other is comparatively neglected. If we, at the start, want 
 several things in about an equal degree, whether a bicycle,
 
 x^n&Q -co ^ 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 a typewriter, or a cyclopedia, we shall end by wanting that 
 the most on which our attention has been most strongly 
 centered. The bicycle idea may thus gain more motor 
 power than either of the other two ; or, if we keep think- 
 ing how useful a cyclopedia would be, action may tend in 
 that direction. 
 
 /""It is a matter of dispute whether will power is anything 
 more than voluntary attention ; whether all that is neces- 
 sary in voluntary effort has not been achieved, when the 
 mind has been kept filled with the idea, until action results 
 as a natural consequence. There is no dispute over the 
 fact that such attention is the most important element 
 in will. In order to act in the direction of one idea in 
 preference to another, we must dismiss the one and volun- 
 tarily attend to the other. The motor force thus devel- 
 oped in connection with the dominant idea lies at the 
 foundation of every higher act of will. 
 
 Different Types of Higher Voluntary Movement. 
 I. There is movement started by an immediate sensation. 
 When we see a hornet or an angry bull coming toward us, 
 when we touch something clammy in the dark, we at once 
 resort to varied voluntary movements, which our reason 
 tells us best fit the exigencies of the situation. In the 
 case of the hornet, we may endeavor to kill it with a book, 
 or we may quietly depart. To escape the bull, we may 
 climb a fence or a tree, or seek shelter in a building. We 
 may get a light, to discover what object felt so clammy. 
 The point is, that each one of these movements had its 
 origin in an immediate sensation. 
 
 II. Movements are also initiated by represented ideas. 
 We are sitting quietly in a chair, when we think of a book 
 in the next room. We rise and get the book. Were it
 
 THE WILL. 317 
 
 not for the presence of the idea of the book, our action 
 could never take that special direction. The greater 
 variety of ideas a man has, the more numerous are the 
 courses of action open to him. If an intelligent physician 
 has an idea of twenty-five different methods of treating 
 rheumatism, he may vary his treatment- accordingly, and 
 may succeed where a less skilled doctor would fail. If a 
 business man has a dozen ideas to fit a given emergency, 
 he may act in any of those directions ; if he has but one 
 idea, he can act but in one direction. Ideas must precede 
 to open a path for intelligent action. Before Columbus 
 sailed, he had an idea of land beyond the seas. When 
 discussing the imagination, we saw that even a plumber 
 must have an idea of how to make a short cut for his pipe, 
 before he can do it. 
 
 Motor Aspect of Ideas. An idea always has a motor 
 element, however obscure; in other words, an idea is 
 partially incipient motor action. We have already seen 
 that when a sensory nerve transmits excitement to the 
 brain, there is a tendency to a reflex discharge along a 
 motor nerve. Whenever a definite idea is formed, there 
 is also a tendency toward action. This is most plainly 
 seen in those ideas which suggest some particular move- 
 ment. The idea of handshaking often goes out in action 
 in the case of a well-bred person, when it is improper for 
 him to take the initiative. k 
 
 A motor idea, unless restrained, tends to go out immedi- 
 ately in definite action. A person was asked to pass the 
 pepper caster. The motor idea caused an immediate re- 
 sponse, although he knew that the top would come off. 
 The caster was shaken and the top came off, ruining the 
 food. The request for the pepper affected consciousness,
 
 318 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 raising a motor idea which led to conscious reflex action. 
 All that deliberation could have done in this instance 
 would have been to restrain the passage of the motor ele- 
 ment into that form of action. 
 
 Muscle Reading. Every mental state tends to express 
 itself in the appropriate habitual action. This is the foun- 
 dation truth for the art of muscle reading. A skillful inter- 
 preter of muscular contraction will tell where an article is 
 hid, or whether he is about to touch the right article or not, 
 by feeling the muscles of the person taken along in the 
 search. The mental state of the most honest person tends 
 to mirror itself in the muscles. The idea, we have seen, is 
 the mind in action, and a portion of this action is trans- 
 mitted along the motor nerves. If we think of the edible 
 qualities of a peach or of custard, there is a tendency 
 toward incipient muscular contraction in the jaws and 
 toward an increased flow of saliva. If we project the 
 distinct image of a giant, there is either a tendency toward 
 opening the eyes wider, or toward movement in the muscles 
 of the eyes if closed. 
 
 Suggestion. Action following an idea thrown into the 
 mind, as it were, from an external source, is said to be clue 
 to suggestion. A soldier was carrying his dinner to the 
 barracks, when some one yelled " Attention ! " at him. 
 This word developed motor ideas which immediately passed 
 into the actions usual when such a command was given. 
 Down came the soldier's hands, and he dropped his dinner. 
 Every idea suggested to us tends to pass into action. The 
 reason why action does not follow every idea, is because 
 the mind leaps ahead, foresees the consequences, and 
 restrains the movement. The effects of ideas are similar
 
 THE WILL. 319 
 
 to those of a stone thrown into a lake. The stone does 
 not disappear without leaving an effect behind. The rip- 
 ples spread in all directions from it. In the same way, 
 motor waves flow out from ideas. 
 
 Hypnotism has taught us much about the motor power 
 of suggested ideas. The subject will perform almost any 
 possible action that is merely suggested to him. He will 
 dance, sing, crawl on all fours, act the part of a king, a 
 clown, of a barber ; in short, his acts will vary in conform- 
 ity to the ideas suggested by the operator. Were it not 
 for the certainty of these facts, one would naturally believe 
 it impossible for mere ideas to have such motor force. 
 Such experiments have also shown that the field of deliber- 
 ative will is much narrower than was formerly supposed. 
 
 Although in hypnotism the term "suggestion" is gen- 
 erally used of an idea implanted from without, in normal 
 association we say that one idea suggests another. When 
 no one is speaking to us, we may notice a stream of 
 ideas flowing through our minds. One idea could never 
 suggest another by the law of contiguity, were there not 
 a motor force in the process. To this force is due the 
 appearance of the associated idea. 
 
 Imitative Action. When we watch a rope walker, 
 our bodies tend to sway back and forth in imitation. 
 Children imitate even the unpleasant peculiarities of those 
 around them. The law of suggestion shows the reason for 
 this. The movement suggests the correlated motor idea, 
 which naturally tends to flow out in the proper action. A 
 very low stage of consciousness suffices for the develop- 
 ment of such an idea such consciousness as we find in 
 the somnambulist, a hypnotic subject, or an idiot. The 
 capacity for imitation in the lower stages of mental life is
 
 32O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 especially important, for the child thus quickly acquires 
 manifold movements. Even if the motor idea thus devel- 
 oped flows out only in conscious reflexes, this has its last- 
 ing results in nerve modification. Imitative movements, 
 preceded by desire and deliberative determination to choose 
 and adapt means to end, as in the case of a sculptor, are of 
 a higher order. 
 
 Utility of Motor Ideas in Training. Before one can de- 
 liberate concerning different acts, he must foresee that 
 motor ideas, unless inhibited, invariably go out in the 
 proper responsive actions. If this were not the case, not 
 knowing whither the ideas tend, he might as well center 
 his attention upon one motor idea as another. That was 
 a good soldier who dropped his rations at the command, 
 "Attention." He had been well drilled. We feel that we 
 can trust people whose motor response to the right has 
 always been unerring. Sully says : " In training a dog or 
 a child to obey, the object is to induce such a close connec- 
 tion between the rousing sign and the motor reaction that 
 the latter shall follow certainly and immediately." 
 
 On the other hand, there needs to be cultivated the 
 power of restraining customary motor action. The soldier 
 would have been a better one, had his power of inhibition 
 been as quick as his obedience; but a joking command was 
 so unusual in his world, that he had heretofore had no 
 occasion to delay in carrying out a command. 
 
 In connection with the motor idea present in emotion, 
 explosive action often develops, causing the person to 
 appear foolish or to disgrace himself. 
 
 Desire. At the threshold of each higher act of will 
 stands desire. This is a complex mental state, and it con-
 
 THE WILL. 321 
 
 tains the elements of both emotion and will. In every 
 state of desire there is (i) conscious feeling, and (2) con- 
 scious tension which easily passes into action. 
 
 All feeling tends to excite desire. Sometimes desire 
 gives rise to intense feeling. In one aspect, desire is 
 feeling ; in another, desire is will or an active tension 
 which passes imperceptibly into will. Desire has for its 
 object something which will bring pleasure or get rid of 
 pain, immediate or remote, for the individual or for some 
 one in whom he is interested. Aversion, or a striving 
 away from something, is merely the negative aspect of 
 desire. 
 
 Desire Shows Progress in Intelligence. We have seen 
 that impulse is indefinite ; instinct, blind. When we come 
 to desire, properly so called, there must be a definite idea. 
 If a person says, " I desire," the question very naturally is, 
 " What ? Do you desire a horse, a bicycle, a boat, a book, 
 a glass of lemonade?" Unless there is a definite answer 
 to the question, desire is not the term to apply to that 
 mental state. If he wants a bicycle, he must have an idea 
 of what a bicycle is before he can know whether he really 
 desires it or not. If a person asks another at dinner if he 
 would like some mulligatawny, the reply may be, "I do 
 not know whether I desire any or not, for I do not know 
 what it is." 
 
 The Antecedent to Desire. A representative image of 
 the thing desired is the necessary antecedent to desire. 
 A child calls for a peach. If the child had never seen nor 
 heard of peaches, he could have no desire for them. If he 
 reached for a peach when first seen, the movement would 
 be reflex, instinctive, or impulsive. Not until a repre- 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 21
 
 322 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 sentative idea of the peach comes to the child's mind 
 does desire arise. It has often been said that where there 
 is no knowledge there can be no desire, and that desires 
 increase as knowledge widens. A child sees a new toy 
 and wants it. A man notices some improvements about 
 his neighbor's house and wishes them. One nation finds 
 out that another has a war ship of a superior model, and 
 straightway desires something as good or better. A 
 scholar sees a new cyclopedia or work of reference, and 
 desire for it arises. A person returns and tells his 
 friends how delightful a foreign trip is. Their desires 
 for travel increase. Knowledge gives birth to desire, 
 and desire points out a path for wilL 
 
 Nature of the Idea Causing Desire. All objects, or 
 ideas derived from them, do not excite desire in an equal 
 degree, for all do not raise the same amount of feeling. 
 Speaking broadly, we may say that desire is proportional 
 to the amount of pleasure or pain represented with the 
 idea. A man would risk himself far more to save his 
 drowning child than to save a dog, because the welfare of 
 the child constitutes a much greater part of the pleasure 
 of the father's life. Similarly a man would exert himself 
 more to save ten thousand dollars than ten dollars, because 
 the larger sum is suggestive of more pleasure. Hence w<* 
 may also say that action is proportional to desire. A man 
 would make more strenuous efforts to save a limb from 
 amputation than a finger nail. 
 
 Desire is not always proportional to the idea of one's 
 own selfish pleasure. Many persons, after forming an idea 
 of the vast amount of earthly distress, desire to relieve 
 it ; and the desire goes out in action, as the benevolent 
 societies in every city testify. Here, the individual pleas-
 
 THE WILL. 323 
 
 ure is none the less real, but it is secondary, coming from 
 the pleasure of others. 
 
 The idea of the near often raises a stronger desire 
 than the remote. A child frequently prefers a thing 
 immediately, if it is only one tenth as good as some- 
 thing he might have a year hence. A student often 
 desires more the leisure of to-day than the success of fu- 
 ture years. Though admonished to study, he wastes his 
 time and thus loses incomparably greater future pleasure 
 when he is tossed to the rear in the struggle for existence. 
 Persons waste their money on lottery tickets,, because 
 they promise to bring a fortune more quickly than hard 
 work. S*\ 
 
 Deliberation the Intellectual Factor in Will. Let us 
 take a rational human action and see how much delibera- 
 tion may be involved in it. I wish to leave the city dur- 
 ing the heated term. Before I act, I not only have the 
 desire to go, but I must know where to go. I find out 
 the location, the merits, and the defects of a number of 
 summer resorts. Then I proceed to deliberate. A has 
 surf bathing ; B is on a mountain and has fine tonic air ; 
 C is near by and some of my friends are going there, but 
 the mosquitoes are annoying and will not allow one to 
 take a walk with any comfort; D has fine air and no 
 mosquitoes, but the place is too fashionable and too much 
 given to dress ; E suits for all reasons, save that it is too 
 expensive; F would answer, but it is too far off. I then 
 take into my deliberations the possibility of staying all 
 summer in the city. Three hot days come. The nights 
 are so warm that one cannot sleep. I then continue my 
 deliberations about the summer resorts. 
 
 Will is necessarily present in its most important aspect
 
 324 PSYCHOLOGY AND rbYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 m every act of deliberation. I balance one idea against 
 another. By will power I hold my attention undivided 
 upon one idea; then I dismiss it, and turn my attention 
 to another. I consider the surf bathing of A, the moun- 
 tain air of B, the annoyances at C, the fashion at D, the 
 expense at E, the distance to F. 
 
 ^^Deliberation is a process of both intellect and will ; of 
 intellect to represent ideas and compare them, and of 
 will to hold the ideas before the attention or to dismiss 
 them and make room for others. In the deliberative! 
 process, the whole man makes himself felt; all his past 
 experiences count. In impulsive action, the momentary! 
 state triumphs. 
 
 Choice, or Decision. With reference to the summer 
 resort, deliberation does not end the voluntary process ; 
 the act of will is yet incomplete. Something more is 
 necessary than (i) a desire to go, and (2) deliberation 
 about a large number of resorts. My next voluntary step 
 is to* choose among the many resorts concerning which 
 I have been deliberating, and to decide to go to one. G 
 satisfies my reason, for the place has sailing and fish- 
 ing, good walks, few mosquitoes, and moderate charges. 
 I then cut short deliberation and decide to go to G. 
 Decision is a termination of the process of deliberation. 
 Decision always requires an effort of the will. In fact, 
 decision is often the hardest part of the voluntary pro- 
 cess. We frequently complain that we cannot make up 
 our minds, and try to get others to decide for us. 
 
 Some persons decide like a flash, without much delib- 
 eration or effort. They often find themselves in hot 
 water, and the effort comes in trying to escape. It is 
 better to use more energy in deliberating and deciding
 
 THE WILL. 325 
 
 than in endeavoring to escape the consequences of rash- 
 ness. Young people have frequently ruined their pros- 
 pects for life, because of one decision without proper 
 deliberation. 
 
 There are always at least two alternatives in any 
 higher line of conduct, although only one may be rational. 
 Hamlet found himself confronted with two alternatives, 
 "to be, or not to be," and he deliberated in choosing 
 between these. When we face an orchestra, we have the 
 choice of listening to it as a whole, or of selecting some one 
 instrument, such as the first violin, and paying attention to 
 it. In looking at a landscape, we choose certain elements 
 for close inspection. Hir world is, therefore, very mud 1 
 what we chopse to pay attention to,- If we visit the trop 
 ics and choose to heed nothing but the venomous animals 
 the land will be chiefly one of snakes and centipedes ; if 
 we look principally at the birds and flowers, it will be to 
 us largely a clime of song and perfume. 
 
 Professor Hoffding draws an apt illustration from a 
 comedy in which the battle ground of will is well por- 
 trayed. Jeppe, a character in the comedy, wants a drink 
 very much. The element of desire here takes its place in 
 the strife. His wife has just given him money with which 
 to buy soap. He knows that she will beat him if he 
 squanders this money. Then comes the second element 
 in the battle, the deliberation over the longing in his stom- 
 ach and the fear for his back. "My stomach says you 
 shall ; my back, you shall not." The wish is at work mag- 
 nifying the one and minimizing the other. Jeppe tries 
 to terminate the conflict by asking himself, " Is not my 
 stomach more to me than my back ? I say, ' Yes.' " 
 With the word " Yes," the third element, decision, is 
 on the field.
 
 326 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Immediate and Remote Factors in Choice. The im- 
 mediate factors, as we have seen, are (i) a preceding 
 process of desire ; (2) the presence in consciousness of 
 more than one represented object or end, to offer an alter- 
 native course of action ; (3) deliberation concerning the 
 respective merits of these objects ; (4) the voluntary fiat 
 or decision, which seems to embody most the very essence 
 of will. 
 
 The remote factors are extremely difficult to select. 
 [The sum total of the man is felt more in choice than any- 
 jwhere else. Shall I read or go to the theater, save this 
 money or spend it for amusement, go coasting or get this 
 lesson, seek good company or bad, do a kindness to 
 another or not, represent things as they are or not ? Be- 
 fore a second person could approximate the outcome, he 
 would have to know certain remote factors, the principal 
 being: (i) heredity, (2) environment, (3) education, and 
 (4) individual peculiarities. 
 
 Completed Action. From a subjective point of view, 
 decision may end the matter, but in a practical world deci- 
 sion is of very little account unless it is followed by action. 
 The road to hell is said to be paved .with good intentions, 
 >r decisions. A good decision never moved a person an 
 
 nch heavenward. For a completed act of will, there must 
 action along the line of the decision. Many a decision 
 las not roused the motor centers to action, nor quickened 
 the attention, for any length of time. There are persons 
 who can frame a dozen decisions in the course of a morning, 
 and never carry out one of them. Sitting in a comforta- 
 >le chair, it may take one but a very short time to form a 
 decision that will require months of hard work. Deciding 
 n this way is very different from laboring wearily to carry
 
 327 
 
 the decision into effect. The decider does not generally 
 realize the amount of effort involved, when he airily declares 
 
 s intention of performing a certain action. 
 
 In our original illustration, I had determined to go to G, 
 but my act of will was incomplete, for I had not gone. 
 The decision was no absolute guarantee that I should go ; 
 many things might arise to prevent. I might hear that 
 diphtheria or typhoid fever had just broken out there. A 
 friend might insist on my visiting him. Some unforeseen 1 , 
 business might develop to claim my entire attention in 
 another direction. In the comedy alluded to in a pre- 
 ceding section, Jeppe's decision to drink might not have 
 been carried into action, had he seen his wife waiting for 
 him with a club in the alehouse door. 
 
 Some persons can never seem to understand that re 
 solving to do a thing is not the same as doing it. Such 
 are utterly worthless in this world of action. They 
 talk ; they feel ; they do anything but act. They appeal 
 to derive almost as much comfort from resolving to answei 
 a letter, which should have been answered two months 
 before, as they would from actually writing the reply 
 There may be desire, deliberation, and decision; but L 
 these do not result in action along the indicated line, the 
 process of will is practically incomplete. 
 
 Inhibition. Inhibition is that power resident in nerve 
 cells or in ideas, whereby one cell or one idea can restrain 
 or divert the customary action of another. If every motor 
 idea went out in action, the individual would soon perish. 
 A person may desire to pursue a course of action, im- 
 mediately pleasurable but remotely hurtful to the system. 
 Unless there is restraint in this direction, the self will 
 be weakened or destroyed. Again, an action already
 
 328 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 begun must often be left incomplete. If the completion of 
 a step would place us 'on a rattlesnake, a centipede, or in a 
 pitfall, we must be able to stop the action instantaneously. 
 Inhibition is thus as necessary as the initiation of action. 
 
 A sensory current may flow into the brain and tend to 
 start action in a given direction, but if the outflow along 
 the usual line is repressed for a second, this energy, denied 
 the usual outlet, may overflow and affect an inhibitory 
 center, thus starting that into action. The result of de- 
 veloping this opposing force may be equilibrium, or action 
 in an opposite direction. Sometimes we seem voluntarily 
 to innervate cells which excite opposing muscular move- 
 ments, as in the case of holding a hand still while a splin- 
 ter is withdrawn. At other times all our energy seems to 
 be directed toward ideas, as when we endeavor to keep 
 ourselves from thinking of an insult, or of accidents which 
 may befall our friends on a journey. 
 
 Inhibition and Memory. The memory of a past state 
 of consciousness often tends to inhibit an action that 
 would reproduce that state. 
 
 The mere sight of a thing tends to awaken in older 
 people, as well as in children, a motor prompting to touch 
 it, or to make some movement, such as turning the head. 
 In other words, the sensory sight stimulus tends to pass 
 out in motor action. If a child has touched a hornet and 
 been stung, the memory of the past resulting condition 
 of consciousness will tend to repress motor inclination to 
 touch the hornet again. A person conies into our room, 
 catches sight of a pen or a pair of eyeglasses, and begins 
 to twirl them or strike it against the table, until the mo- 
 tion makes us nervous. Most of us feel a tendency to 
 de such things. With some, however, inhibiting factors
 
 THE WILL. 329 
 
 arise : (i) When we start to do one of these objectionable 
 acts, there flashes into consciousness a memory of our feel- 
 ings when some one served us that way. This state of 
 consciousness tends to arrest the motor inclination to seize 
 the pen. (2) If we care nothing for the feelings of others^ 
 or are too stupid to remember how we felt on a similar occa- 
 sion, there may arise a memory of formerly breaking some- 
 thing and having to pay for it. The remembrance of this 
 
 disagreeable association will tend to inhibit the movement. 
 
 < 
 
 Inhibition and Deliberation. Deliberation is a very im- 
 portant factor in inhibition. For this purpose we must 
 summon other ideas, especially those representing the 
 consequences of the act and suggesting other courses of 
 action. If a man insults me, the idea of knocking him 
 down may rush into my mind and be followed by immediate 
 action. But if I can summon an idea of the publicity 
 which such an act would cause, of the newspaper item, of 
 the fact that I am living where brute force is not supreme ; 
 if I can form the idea of an alternative course, dignified 
 silence, and completely ignoring the speaker, delibera- 
 tion may show me that the latter alternative is the better. 
 Here, the force generated by the ideas is not lost, but 
 diffused through all the muscles, and it may raise the tem- 
 perature of the entire body. The nails are often pressed 
 into the palms, the jaw firmly set, the face flushed. The 
 will also expends a portion of the motor energy in sum- 
 moning ideas of the consequences of the action, and hold- 
 ing those ideas firmly before the mind while the thinking 
 power deliberates. 
 
 Reflexes, impulses, and instincts tend to rush into action 
 before deliberative inhibition can be applied. The act is 
 finished before an idea of the consequences flashes into
 
 330 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 consciousness. A master stroke in the inhibitory battle 
 is to attend to an idea that' suggests an opposing action. 
 A drunkard, on his way to a saloon, thought of the misery 
 of a sick child at home. As the idea grew more vivid, 
 his steps became slower. Finally he stopped, turned, and 
 went homeward. 
 
 Inhibitory Power a Comparatively Late Development. 
 
 Inhibition makes its appearance only with education and 
 experience. Animals, young children, and savages restrain 
 few actions. If the tail of a cat is pinched, the customary 
 action will follow. If the feelings of a cultivated person 
 are hurt, there will often be no outward sign. If food is 
 placed before an animal, it will gorge what it can and tram- 
 ple on the rest. In the same way, many young people 
 cannot inhibit the tendency to waste time and trample on 
 their golden opportunities. The effort of a developed will . 
 is nowhere more marked than in inhibition. 
 
 The Direction of Will. A very little reflection will 
 suffice to point out two different classes of objects toward 
 which the will acts : 
 
 I. The will goes out in muscular movement. My foot 
 is still ; I will to move it, and motion follows. I am fall 
 ing ; I will to catch at something, and my arms are imme- 
 diately moved. The will is almost always expressing 
 itself in varied muscular action. In all these cases, will 
 power seems to flow out from the brain toward the mus- 
 cles. In emotion, the will often actively represses the 
 natural muscular movement. 
 
 II. The will is directed inward upon mental processes 
 and objects, (i) The will appears in perception in the 
 form of attention, holding the mind on the object while
 
 THE WILL. 331 
 
 the intellectual process in perception is completing itself. 
 (2) The will is active in representation or recall. Suppose 
 we have two ideas, A and C, before our mental gaze, and 
 are searching for the idea connecting them. A throng of 
 ideas comes to our minds, say L, T, Y, etc. The will dis- 
 misses these to make room for others, until B appears, 
 when it is detained. This shows the voluntary process 
 by which we search for lost ideas. (3) The will shows 
 special activity in thought. Consciousness is not made 
 up of isolated ideas, but of ideas woven together by thought 
 in the conscious mind. Weaving implies activity, and will 
 is behind that activity ; hence will is necessary to correlate 
 the facts of consciousness. In comparison, the will is busy 
 fixing the attention, and in dismissing and retaining ideas. 
 (4) The will may be active in emotion, either in excitation 
 or repression. Ideas are detained to fan the flame of feel- 
 ing, or they are dismissed, and others that tend to repress 
 it are summoned, s 
 
 Will and Motive. In the higher type of action, the 
 will can go out only in the direction of an idea. Every 
 idea which becomes an object of desire is a motive. It is 
 true that the will tends to go in the direction of the great- 
 est motive, that is, toward the object which seems most 
 desirable; but the will, through voluntary attention, puts 
 energy into a motive idea and thus makes it strong. It 
 is impossible to center the attention long on an idea, with- 
 out developing positive or negative interest, attraction or 
 repulsion. Thus does the will develop motives. 
 
 We may state as a law the fact that the will determines 
 which motive shall become the strongest, by determining 
 which ideas shall occupy the field of consciousness. We 
 have seen that emotion and desire arise in the presence of
 
 332 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 ideas, and that the will has influence in detaining or in ban- 
 ishing a given idea. If one idea is kept before the mind, 
 a desire and a strong motive may gather about that idea. 
 If another idea is called in, the power of the first will 
 decline. The more Macbeth and his wife held before 
 themselves the idea of the fame and power which the 
 throne would confer upon them, the stronger became 
 the desire to kill the king, until it finally grew too strong 
 to be mastered. They were, however, responsible for nurs- 
 ing the desire ; had they resolutely thought of something 
 else, that desire would have weakened. A person might 
 keep a lion cub, feed it, and nurture it carefully. If 
 warned of the danger, he might reply : " See, I can throw 
 this cub clear across the room. I can kill the whelp with 
 one blow of this iron bar. I am too strong to fear." He 
 continues to feed the cub, and it finally becomes so strong 
 that it attacks and kills him. This is precisely the case 
 of him who feeds a bad desire with the fitting ideas. It 
 may some day master his will. 
 
 Simple and Complex Action. When a child sees a red 
 apple and reaches out to grasp it, the action is simpler than 
 that of a grown person who wonders if the apples on a 
 certain tree in the orchard are ripe, and starts out to 
 investigate. There was no apple before him to incite him, 
 but only the image or memory of one. The presence of 
 images guiding action renders it more complex, for there 
 are representative elements instead of present objects. 
 
 An example will serve to show what a complex product 
 action may be. A person decides to take a European 
 trip two years hence. He at once begins to collect books 
 to read about the points of interest in the countries he 
 proposes to visit. Perhaps he economizes in various ways
 
 THE WILL. 333 
 
 so as to have sufficient money for the trip. He studies 
 the more common forms of expression in certain foreign 
 languages. In this way, numerous acts come in as aux- 
 iliaries to the main act of taking the trip, and each of -these 
 acts may call into play many representative images. 
 
 Certain elements are necessary in a case of complex will 
 before we come to deliberation or decision. Suppose that 
 we are sitting in the house and decide to go into the garden 
 to eat some grapes. There must have been : (i) former 
 perception of grapes ; (2) memory of the grapes and of the 
 garden, together with a recall of former pleasure in con- 
 nection with them ; (3) the resulting desire. 
 
 Human action increases in complexity as experience 
 widens. A child may be but little moved at the prospect 
 of some pleasure promised for a month hence. A man 
 will plant a tree, although he knows that he cannot eat the 
 fruit for years. The will of the child is as immature as 
 its experience. When some pleasure is denied or a toy 
 broken, the child gives itself up to uncontrolled tears. 
 Children frequently do wrong, though certain to be pun- 
 ished when they are detected. Their experience has not 
 taught them to curb action in view of a distant result. 
 Sometimes older persons do acts for which they believe 
 they must be punished in the eternal courts of justice, 
 because the morrow of death seems so far away. When 
 we save for the morrow or for old age, our actions are 
 due to the complex representations of experience. The 
 same is true when a student masters knowledge in order 
 to have it at his disposal in the years to come. 
 
 Development of Will. Will is only a potential capacity 
 in a child, very much as the roots of a tree are in an acorn. 
 For some time his movements are reflex, impulsive, or
 
 334 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 instinctive. He remembers these, repeats them again and 
 again, and is then ready for the next step. The will grows 
 as much as the other mental powers. 
 
 The first-step, in the development of will consists in 
 getting awtral~0ftke--ntmt4s. What we call our ego, 
 or self, is surrounded by a network of muscles which we 
 must learn how to use. The will receives its first develop- 
 ment in connection with these. The muscles are, in the 
 beginning, more difficult to control than a bicycle, or the 
 keys of a piano, for a beginner. When a child learns to 
 write, the muscles take the pen precisely where he does 
 not wish it to go. His whole face and tongue tend to 
 move in connection with his arm and fingers. The will all 
 the while gains more and more control over the muscles, 
 until they finally respond to its slightest prompting with 
 wonderful definiteness. A young quail, on leaving the 
 shell, can run swiftly and avoid objects with precision; but 
 in the case of the human species, these muscular move- 
 ments are whetstones to sharpen the will for the more 
 varied struggles of life. 
 
 Motor imagination is an ideal combination of past move- 
 ments into a new and more complex product. Just as 
 the sewing machine is the product of a new combination 
 of well-known metals and mechanical principles, so are the 
 movements in swimming a combination of simpler move- 
 ments of arm and leg, which have been previously tested. 
 The will here makes the movements fit into the ideal fore- 
 cast. Motor memory gradually becomes so definite that 
 one can tie a necktie, play the piano, or write correctly, in 
 the dark. Each exercise of motor memory and imagination 
 shows that the will has conquered new territory, and is 
 master of a more complex product, which is required for 
 the labyrinthine movements of life.
 
 THE WILL. 335 
 
 The will often has a severe task in separating the differ- 
 ent elements of a complex motor presentation, for new com- 
 birations of the motor imagination. To illustrate, there 
 is a tendency, in the first motor presentation, to move 
 the entire hand in one way ; but in learning to play the 
 piano, the varied movements of which the hand is capable 
 must be separated. One finger must be moved in one 
 way ; another, in another way. Then there must be har- 
 monious combination of these separated movements to 
 produce the right notes in order. A child learning to 
 write often finds it hard to separate the movements in 
 the fingers from those in the tongue and lips. This is 
 a much severer task for the will than to separate ideally 
 the branches from a tree, the head from the body, or the 
 wings from a bird, for here the imaginative forecast 
 must be made a reality ; hence the will has to control 
 both idea and muscles. 
 
 The second step in the development of will consists 
 in controlling ideas. Attention is the chief power in a 
 developed will. Attention puts vigor into an idea, motor 
 vigor as well as other power. The will thus enables some 
 ideas to fight their way to the front, and relegates others 
 to the rear by withdrawing attention from them. The 
 person who can do this with ideas as they come has a 
 highly developed will. Attention is, at first, fugitive and 
 involuntary. Later, the child strives to attend in a desul- 
 tory sort of way ; but any slight outside stimulus, as the 
 entrance of a dog into the room, causes his will to relax 
 its grip on the ideas in the lesson, and his attention flits 
 elsewhere. Not until ideas can be held firmly before the 
 mind, even when the provocation is great to let them slip 
 away, is the will developed on its most important side. 
 While this voluntary power can be gradually acquired, it
 
 336 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 is nevertheless a fact that only the few, the successful ones 
 in life, ever have a highly developed will. 
 
 Conscious Elements in an Act of Developed Will. (i) 
 
 Antecedent to higher voluntary action, we are conscious 
 of either a sensation or a represented past sensation. 
 Before we start to shut a window, a present sensation may 
 affect us, we may actually see rain, mosquitoes, or dust 
 coming in. Or the memories of past sensations due to 
 toothache, cold in the head, or rheumatism, may precede 
 the act of shutting the window. In either case, the first 
 conscious element is a sensation, present or remembered. 
 
 (2) Before we start to shut the window, we must have 
 an idea of what we intend to do. The idea of the end is 
 the second element in consciousness. Were this not the 
 case, a sensation might prompt us to do any one of innu- 
 merable unrelated acts. Instead of shutting the window, 
 we might brush our teeth, take off our shoes, lock the 
 door, or lie down. 
 
 (3) Preceding action, there is a vague feeling of more 
 or less mental, muscular, or nervous power. This con- 
 scious sense of power, even when we are not actually 
 engaged in willing, is popularly expressed by, " I feel as 
 if I could (or could not) do that now." 
 
 (4) After voluntary action, there is a conscious sensa- 
 tion due to muscular movement. It is a disputed point 
 whether we are conscious of a stream of effort flowing 
 into a motor nerve, or whether we are only conscious of 
 an affection resulting from a stream flowing in from a 
 sensory nerve. The relation of consciousness to our nerv- 
 ous mechanism is very obscure. A paralytic seems to 
 have a sense of effort in trying to move a limb, when its 
 muscles do not stir.
 
 THE WILL. 337 
 
 (5) In attention centered upon ideas there is a sense of 
 effort, sometimes pleasurable, sometimes painful. It is a 
 tremendous effort for a schoolboy to center his attention 
 on his lessons, when he knows his companions are waiting 
 for him outside. Attention causes a change in cerebral 
 blood supply and in brain cells. These changes probably 
 contribute additional elements to consciousness. 
 
 Tendency of Higher to Lapse into Lower Voluntary 
 Acts. After we have with difficulty performed a volun- 
 tary act several times, we notice that new repetitions 
 gradually begin to grow easier, that they are attended 
 with less conscious effort. In some cases this effort dis- 
 appears entirely from consciousness, and the action after 
 the initial start seems to go on of itself. Walking was to 
 us all once an art, which seemed to require the skill of a 
 wonderful juggler. Now, after we have once started our 
 legs, we pay no further attention to their movements until 
 we voluntarily stop them. During this time we may be 
 talking on a subject that requires all our voluntary atten- 
 tion. We are conscious of our muscular movements only 
 in a reflex way. The movements of the fingers in playing 
 the piano at first take all the will power at our disposal. 
 Later, we can use our will in another direction, and our 
 fingers continue to strike the right keys. 
 
 At first our wills often have a serious task to keep the 
 attention on new and difficult subjects ; but after repeated 
 attempts, it seems to fall and rest there as easily and 
 naturally as snowflakes on the ground. At first it may 
 be a task for a tradesman not to misrepresent an article ; 
 but if he perseveres, he will tend to become uncon- 
 sciously honest from force of habit. Or, if he has, at 
 the outset, a struggle with his moral sense in deceiving 
 
 HAIJ-ECK'S PSYC. 22
 
 338 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 customers, he will soon come to practice deception without 
 an effort. 
 
 There are two laws governing such cases as the above : 
 (i) An action tends to recur, and to become easier with 
 each performance. (2) Actions, at first voluntary, after 
 frequent repetition, either take less hold on the conscious 
 attention or they produce only a subconscious effect. 
 
 To account for this, Professor James formulates this 
 law : " An acquired habit, from the physiological point of 
 view, is nothing but a new pathway of discharge formed 
 in the brain, by which certain incoming currents ever after 
 tend to escape." This law has neither been proved nor 
 disproved, but it is probably broadly true, in so far as it 
 relates to some peculiar nerve change due to repeated 
 acts. It is, however, not necessary to suppose a new path 
 of discharge. A molecular change in the nerve structure 
 of the old path might serve equally well. Then the cur- 
 rents might glide along with so little friction as just to 
 graze consciousness as a reflex act, or the friction might 
 be so slight as to arouse no consciousness. 
 
 To illustrate the two hypotheses, we may suppose a lake 
 subject to a rise from freshets. The waters flowing through 
 the outlet may inundate the surrounding country. A new 
 and broader outlet may be made, which will easily carry 
 off the water, or repeated freshets may so deepen the first 
 outlet that the water may be carried away beneath the sur- 
 face level of the land. Here, the inundation corresponds 
 to consciousness filled with the sense of voluntary effort. 
 The unconscious acts of habit are like the outflow in the 
 deepened channel, without the former inundation. 
 
 Will and Character. What has the will to do with char- 
 acter ? Character is largely a resultant of every voluntary
 
 <fl 
 
 i ? 
 
 \ 3Q- - 
 
 U\\Aa._ 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 act from childhood to the grave. We gradually make ou 
 characters by separate acts of will, just as a blacksmith by 
 repeated blows beats out a horseshoe or an anchor from 
 shapeless mass of iron. A finished anchor or horseshoe 
 was never the product of a single blow. A man acquires N3 ^ 
 character by separate voluntary acts. We apply the termV^T 
 " conduct " to those actions unified into a whole, which re- 
 late to the welfare of the self, either directly or indirectly, 
 through the welfare of others. 
 
 Character is a resultant of several factors wilL hered- 
 ity, and environment. Let us take an actual case to rep- 
 resent these at work. Shakespeare was born of parents 
 who could neither read nor write. There was something 
 more in the boy than in either of them. A part of that 
 additional something was due to his will, which, by always 
 acting in a definite way, often in the line of the greatest 
 resistance, gave him stability when others were wavering 
 like reeds in a wind. Unlike Marlowe, Shakespeare was 
 not killed in an alehouse, although he must have felt 
 promptings to waste his time and nervous force there, as 
 did so many of his fellow dramatists. In resisting these 
 tendencies, in putting the best of himself, not into revels, 
 but into his dramatic work, he acquired character. That 
 heredity was not all in his case is shown by the fact that 
 he had brothers and sisters, who never climbed the heights 
 with him. His limited early opportunities show that envi- 
 ronment was not all that made him. Besides, environment 
 did not make Shakespeares out of others born in that age. 
 There was will power in him that rose above heredity and 
 environment, and gave him a character that breathes forth 
 in every play. 
 
 The modern tendency is to overestimate the effects of 
 heredity and environment in forming character; but, on
 
 34O PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 the other hand, we must not underestimate them. The 
 child of a Hottentot put in Shakespeare's home, and after- 
 wards sent away to London with him, would never have 
 made a Shakespeare ; for heredity would not have given 
 the will sufficient raw material to fashion over into such 
 a noble product. We may also suppose a case to show the 
 great power of environment. Had a band of gypsies 
 stolen Shakespeare at birth, carried him to Tartary, and 
 left him among the nomads, his environment would never 
 have allowed him to produce such plays as he placed upon 
 the English stage. 
 
 Heredity is a powerful factor, for it supplies raw mate- 
 rial for the will to shape. Even the will cannot make 
 anything without material. Will acts through choice, and 
 some kinds of environment afford far more opportunities 
 for choice than others. Shakespeare found in London the 
 germ of true theatrical taste, already vivified by a long line 
 of miracle plays, moralities, and interludes. In youth he 
 connected himself with the theater, and his will responded 
 powerfully to his environment. Some surroundings are 
 rich in suggestion, affording opportunity for choice ; while 
 others are poor. The will is absolutely confined to a 
 choice between alternatives. 
 
 Character, then, is a resultant of will power, heredity, 
 and environment. A man cannot choose his parents, but 
 he can to a certain extent determine his environment. 
 Shakespeare left Stratford and went to London. He 
 might have chosen to go to some insignificant town where 
 the surroundings would have been uninspiring. In middle 
 life a man's decisions represent his character. He will 
 be swayed by the resultant force of all his preceding 
 choices ; in other words, by his character. 
 
 Some years after leaving school, a young man approached
 
 THE WILL. 341 
 
 a classmate and said : " I want you to come into a profitable 
 partnership with me. I have learned the intricacies of 
 a certain peculiar line of trade, where I see a chance, 
 because of my special knowledge, to pick up bargains 
 almost every week. I have not the capital for this. You 
 furnish that, and we will divide the profits." 
 
 The classmate, afterward mentioning the affair to a 
 friend, said : " I did not go into partnership with him, 
 for he had no fixed character. Even in school he would 
 sometimes tell the truth and sometimes not, sometimes 
 study and sometimes cheat his way through. His knowl- 
 edge and capacity for making money in that line are 
 undoubted, and I am sorry that he has not character 
 enough for me to join him, but I could not be certain 
 that he would not misrepresent the cost of the articles 
 purchased. Again, I am not sure whether he could be 
 depended on to stay sober. I know that I am the loser 
 as well as he, because he has no character." 
 
 FREEDOM IN WILLING. 
 
 True Conception of Freedom. All persons agree that 
 there is no such thing as unrestrained liberty. Every 
 human being is, from the cradle to the grave, subject to 
 external restraint. If a man declares that he is free to go 
 without food, air, or sleep, and tries to act accordingly, 
 consequences will soon deprive him of that liberty. The 
 circle of freedom is much smaller than is sometimes 
 thought; the fish is never free to become an eagle. 
 Human freedom may be likened to a vessel sailing up 
 a river. Her course must be kept rigidly within the 
 banks; she cannot sail on the dry land; but by tack- 
 ing, she can make headway up the stream in the teeth
 
 342 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 of the wind, and she can stop either at this town or 
 at that. The popular belief seems correct, that the sphere 
 of freedom is sufficiently wide to allow a man scope 
 enough to keep him busy for several lifetimes. 
 
 Freedom consists in being able to choose between 
 two or more alternative courses of action. A stone is 
 limited to one course and is subject to an unvarying law 
 of gravity. Exclude the power of choice, and all freedom 
 is gone. If we have the power of alternative choice, 
 we are within certain limits free. These limits vary. If 
 I am educated so that I know how to do several different 
 things in the higher walks of life, I can choose any of 
 those things. If I am ignorant and can perform only 
 cruder tasks, my capacity for choice is excluded from 
 higher lines of action. 
 
 Some deny that human beings have any more freedom 
 than a stone. The discussion of the freedom of the will 
 properly belongs to metaphysics, but the question is one 
 that so vitally concerns our mental lives, that we shall 
 here consider the question very briefly. 
 
 Difference in Mental and Physical Causes. Spontane- 
 ity is the power of originating movements within the self. 
 If we look at a protozoon, we shall see it occasionally 
 make movements due to no external cause, so far as we 
 can learn. The capacity for movement is within the body. 
 These movements are of a higher type than those in a 
 stone, but they are strictly conditioned by the nervous 
 system. Spontaneity differs from the power of alter- 
 native choice, because such a movement, though self- 
 originated, knows no possibility of choice. 
 
 With matter, there is uniformity of cause and effect 
 to a degree not observable in mind. To-day I see lying
 
 THE WILL. 343 
 
 npon the table before me a penknife. I pick it up and 
 open a blade. To-morrow I see the same knife, but do not 
 pick it up. There is plainly here not the uniformity of 
 cause and effect to which we are accustomed in physics. 
 Again, in the mental world, action is not proportional to the 
 intensity of the stimulus. An entomologist in a forest might 
 listen to the chirp of a cricket, but not heed the louder caw 
 of a crow. 
 
 Deliberation comes in to check the flowing of a cause 
 into its effect. The operation of a mental cause is thus 
 often stopped or deflected. There is nothing parallel 
 in the action of gravity or of physical forces. Will 
 often suspends action. I decide to-day to do a certain 
 thing, but I do not carry the decision into effect for a 
 year. Gravity has not been proved to suspend its action 
 in an analogous way. 
 
 Appeal to the Universality of Causation. Some modern 
 philosophers say that it is unphilosophical to believe 
 in the freedom of the will, since the law of the univer- 
 sality of cause and effect here meetr with its first and 
 only exception. There is no such universal law. If we 
 run back sufficiently far along the links in the chain 
 of causes we must come (i) either to the first link, or (2) 
 to the conclusion that the chain is infinite. Under the 
 first supposition, we have a right to ask what caused the 
 first link, and we receive no answer. On the second 
 hypothesis, there could have been no temporal cause, as 
 we understand it. We cannot suppose a preceding cause 
 to an event which has no beginning. Hence, since the 
 law of the universality of mechanical cause has suffered 
 one exception, there is no a priori impossibility that 
 another break may be found somewhere in nature.
 
 344 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Attention and the Motive. In the capacity for atten- 
 tion we have tho key to the freedom of the will. Volun- 
 tary attention makes the motive. The motive does not 
 make the attention. Hence the motive is a product of 
 the will. If I withdraw my attention from a motive idea, 
 it loses vigor, like a plant deprived of air and moisture. 
 We have already shown this fact at sufficient length. By 
 sheer force of will power, many a one has withdrawn his 
 attention from certain temptations, centered it elsewhere, 
 and thus developed a counter motive. 
 
 Testimony of Consciousness. We hear it daily said 
 that some one was foolish in following one line of action 
 in preference to another. We never make the same re- 
 mark about a stone in motion or at rest. When we delib- 
 erate whether to accept this offer or that, to follow this 
 vocation or that, consciousness distinctly tells us that we 
 are free to choose either alternative. We feel that we are 
 acting sensibly in deliberating, that it is we who are decid- 
 ing, that we are not the helpless conscious spectators of a 
 decision made for us by brain, atoms or outside stimuli. 
 Consciousness never gave clearer, more direct, or more 
 forcible testimony than when saying that we are some- 
 times free to choose between alternative courses of action. 
 
 The opponent of freedom says that consciousness testi- 
 fies to a falsehood, that she is an incompetent witness and 
 must be thrown out of court. If this is the case, no 
 structure of physical science built solely by the light of 
 conscious reason can be firm. Consciousness may have 
 testified to the truth of repeated falsehoods in physics, 
 astronomy, or botany. Dr. Hyslop rightly says : " I have 
 nothing but the testimony of consciousness to the cogency 
 of the argument for necessitarianism. But if that author-
 
 THE WILL. 345 
 
 ity be impeached, I am as much in the dark about that 
 theory as I can possibly be about freedomfem." 
 
 Remorse, Blame, Duty. Men have often experienced 
 intense remorse under the notion that they might have 
 acted differently. Thus, Nero felt, when the fires of 
 remorse were lighted, that he was not compelled to mur- 
 der his mother. Children have often suffered acutely in 
 recalling how they might have treated a dead parent 
 better. If there is no freedom to act differently, why 
 should remorse ever be felt ? Remorse depresses the vital 
 energies, and breaks down nerve cells. If a poor creature 
 could not have acted differently, why should he be tor- 
 tured with remorse ? There is no answer to this question, 
 except on the assumption of freedom, for the scientist is 
 compelled to admit that all his investigations are deter- 
 mined by the idea that things have a purpose. Remorse 
 must also be held to have a purpose, if only to serve as 
 punishment for moral wrong. 
 
 We cannot logically blame another, unless we suppose 
 that he could have acted differently. We do not blame 
 a bullet for killing a man, because the projectile could 
 not help traveling in the path determined by causes over 
 which the agent had .no control. The idta of duty is 
 based on the supposition of freedom. Duty often re- 
 quires us to choose the most difficult and disagreeable 
 of several alternative courses of action. 
 
 We thus see that human society is founded on the sup- 
 position that man has, to a certain degree, the capacity 
 for alternative choice. Without this fixed belief in free- 
 dom, such words as duty, right, wrong, blame, crime, 
 reward, and punishment would disappear from our lan- 
 guage.
 
 346 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 HYGIENIC ASPECTS OF THE WILL. 
 
 Effect of Voluntary Attention upon the Bodily States. 
 It has been known for a long time that if the attention 
 is directed toward any bodily organ, abnormal sensations 
 may be caused in it, and disease may be developed. The 
 renowned Dr. John Hunter said : " I am confident that I 
 can fix my attention to any part, until I have a sensation 
 in that part." Dr. Tuke says that these are "words which 
 ought to be inscribed in letters of gold over the entrance 
 of a Hospital for the Cure of Disease by Psychopathy. 
 Hunter's confident assertion is the more interesting be- 
 cause, drawn from his own experience, it shows that the 
 principle is not confined in its operation to the susceptible 
 and nervous, but operates even on men of the highest 
 mental endowment." 
 
 We have examples from the literature of the seventeenth 
 century, showing how the expectation of a complaint will 
 produce it. In 1607 an ignorant English physician told 
 a clergyman's wife that she had sciatica, although there 
 was, in reality, nothing the matter with her sciatic nerve. 
 Her attention was thereby directed to it and a severe 
 attack of sciatica was the result. When a person inex- 
 perienced in medicine reads carefully the symptoms of 
 some disease, he is apt to begin an attentive search for 
 those symptoms and to end by fancying that he has them. 
 
 Seasick persons have been relieved of their nausea by 
 being made to bail a leaking boat from the fear that it 
 would sink. All their attention was thereby diverted 
 from themselves. Many can recall how children, and 
 grown persons, too, have forgotten all about their alleged 
 intense thirst, as soon as their attention was" diverted. 
 Some persons, after eating something which they fancy is
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 347 
 
 a trifle indigestible, center their attention upon the stom- 
 ach, expecting symptoms of indigestion, and are often not 
 disappointed. A man who had good reason to fear hydro- 
 phobia, determined that he would not have it. The pain 
 in the bitten arm became intense, and he saw that he must 
 have something to divert his attention from the wound 
 and his danger. He therefore went hunting, but found 
 no game. To make amends, he summoned a more in- 
 flexible will and exerted at every step "a strong mental 
 effort against the disease." He kept on hunting until 
 he felt better, and he mastered himself so perfectly that 
 he probably thereby warded off an attack of hydrophobia. 
 
 According as we center our attention upon one thing 
 or another, we largely determine our mental happiness 
 and hence our bodily health. One person, in walking 
 through a noble forest, may search only for spiders and 
 venomous creatures, while another confines his attention 
 to the singing birds in the branches above. One reason 
 why travel is such a cure for diseases of body and mind 
 is because so many new things thereby come in to claim 
 the attention and divert it from its former objects. 
 
 The following expression from Dr. Tuke should be re- 
 membered : "Thought strongly directed to any part tends 
 to increase its vascularity, and consequently its sensibility."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL. 
 
 Habit. Animals are born with instinct. Habit is the 
 
 *>' result of acquisition. The most important of all tasks for 
 
 the will is the formation of correct habits. Good habits 
 
 are always formed under an effort of will. Weeds alone 
 
 grow without cultivation. 
 
 Man's nervous system possesses, early in life, a rare 
 capacity for modification or adaptability, which renders 
 possible the great variety in human life and effort. The 
 tendencies of the muscles and the nerves to respond to the 
 stimuli of life are altered. This is a known fact, whether 
 it is due to altered molecular arrangement or to some other 
 cause. We may not be able to give a scientific explana- 
 tion why cloth folds more readily a second time where 
 it has once been folded, but we may accept the fact and 
 act upon it. 
 
 Recent psychology has done much practical good in 
 calling attention to the plasticity of nervous matter early 
 in life, and in showing that the longer one defers the 
 formation of a desired habit, the harder will be the strug- 
 gle required, until finally the task will be practically im- 
 possible. The analogy between the plasticity of nerve 
 and brain and that of plaster of Paris has often been 
 pointed out. The freshly mixed plaster can easily be 
 molded at will, as can a youthful brain and nerves. 
 Persons after the age of thirty seldom radically change 
 
 348
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL. 349 
 
 their habits ; indeed, the age of twenty finds most of our 
 habits already outlined as they are to remain for life. 
 The boor at that age will continue to have boorish pecu- 
 liarities. Errors in grammar will slip automatically from 
 the tongue. The doctor, the lawyer, the clergyman, the 
 business man, the teacher, soon acquire the peculiar habits 
 of their professions. If we do not get into the right voca- 
 tion early in life, we are caught in the vise of habits ill- 
 adapted for a change. Our very ways of looking at things 
 have become crystallized. If we put off learning new sub- 
 jects, we shall remain ignorant of them. 
 
 An anonymous writer in Harper's Bazar states a truth, 
 the acceptance of which would remove considerable trouble 
 in many cases : " The effort to remodel the character of a 
 grown woman is a hopeless and thankless task, that can 
 only bring misery to subject and operators." Precisely 
 the same thing is true of a grown man. After habit has 
 cast him in her iron mold, the chances of his changing 
 are so slight that they may be neglected in computing his 
 future orbit: Statisticians tell us that, out of a thousand I 
 drunkards who try to reform, only three permanently aban-fl 
 don the vicious habit. The rest slide back sooner or later. 
 
 These lines of Professor Romanes are worthy a place in 
 the memory : 
 
 " No change in childhood's early day, 
 
 No storm that raged, no thought that ran, 
 But leaves a track upon the clay, 
 Which slowly hardens into man." 
 
 Formation of a New Habit. It is possible to frame 
 certain practical rules which will aid one in acquiring a 
 desired habit: 
 
 (i) Put all the motor force possible into the actions
 
 350 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 you desire to make habitual. If you wish to remedy a 
 stoop in the shoulders, innervate the muscles as vigorously 
 as possible. Keep firmly in consciousness the motor idea 
 of forcing the shoulders back. If the idea vanishes, recall 
 it, and keep the voluntary act of attention busy. If you 
 wish to repress a habit of constantly clearing the throat, 
 innervate the muscles of the throat, and hold the proper 
 motor idea before the mind. 
 
 (2) Allow as few ideas as possible of other things to 
 absorb the attention, while you are laying the foundations 
 of a habit. Will is always definite and has for its object 
 one central idea. This idea should, of course, be ree'n- 
 forced with kindred ideas, such as ideas of the advantages 
 which will in the end result from this habit. Banish all 
 ideas which suggest temptation to break the habit. If a 
 man wishes to give up drinking, he should at first avoid 
 passing a saloon, for it may recall a throng of ideas which 
 would develop a desire too strong to be resisted. He 
 should avoid company that would suggest to him the 
 pleasure of taking a drink. A boy who wishes to form 
 a habit of studiousness ought not, as he starts to get 
 his lessons, to pass through a group of boys setting out 
 to play. They may urge him to come to complete a 
 baseball nine or to join in some frolic, and he may 
 yield. 
 
 Many a person has stood firm only because he ran away 
 from dangerous ideas. The companions of Ulysses were 
 wise to stop their ears with wax, so as not to hear the 
 songs of the Sirens. Ulysses heard, and his desire to go 
 to them overmastered him. Had he not been forcibly 
 restrained, he would have perished. Once out of hearing, 
 he was a man again. This fable is applicable to all life. 
 In one way or another, certain ideas must be kepf. out
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL. 351 
 
 of the mind. He only "jests at scars who never felt a 
 wound." Those who have run the gauntlet of strong 
 temptations do not laugh at their power. It takes more 
 effort of will to turn away from some ideas than to face 
 them, and the coward is sometimes he who remains on 
 the scene. 
 
 (3) Every time there is a chance, repeat the action to 
 be made habitual. Suppose one wishes to form a habit of 
 mental concentration. He reads one page with tense at- 
 tention. If he then reads the next six pages with relaxed 
 effort, he is going backward in forming the desired habit. 
 A good habit was never the result of such intermittent 
 effort. There must be continuously the same attention. 
 When the mind gets tired, some other work should be 
 taken up. Only in this way can one progress in forming 
 a good habit Failure to observe this will cause retrogres- 
 sion. 
 
 (4) The beginning of the formation of a habit is a very 
 critical time. No exception must be allowed until the 
 habit has gained considerable headway. The person who 
 smokes a very choice cigar with friends, after he has 
 promised to stop ; the drinker who, like Rip Van Winkle, 
 takes another glass, saying that he will not count this 
 one, has not the faintest conception of the law of habit. 
 
 The law of invariable association is the foundation on 
 which habit is built. If a person wishing to learn the alpha- 
 bet said a, b, c, to-day ; to-morrow, a, c, b ; the next day, c , 
 a, b, he would never know the letters in any fixed order. 
 From one point of view, habit is association by contiguity, 
 and hence the association must be invariable in order to 
 be depended on. Sometimes persons who will not put 
 things in their places try to cultivate a habit of order. For 
 two days everything is put in place. On the third day
 
 352 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 they are in a hurry because they rose too late, and there is 
 the former disorder. If they had realized the seriousness 
 of the situation, they would have been called an hour 
 before time rather than allow an exception to occur the 
 third day. It has been well said that when a ball of cord, 
 which one is winding up, is allowed to fall, more is un- 
 wound than many separate windings can replace. So it 
 is with habit; a single omission cannot be remedied in a 
 day or a week. A business man once neglected to keep 
 with some associates an appointment relative to the for- 
 mation of a new company. He made an excuse that it 
 was too hot. They very properly left him out of the 
 organization, because they wanted only those who could 
 be depended on. 
 
 If the above rules are faithfully applied for a consid- 
 erable time, habit will finally become organic memory. A 
 person can then, without conscious effort, act unerringly in 
 the direction indicated by such a habit. To do a thing 
 improperly will then cause a struggle, because it will be 
 hard to break a fixed habit of doing things right, and the 
 mind will be left free for progress in other directions. 
 The habit works automatically, and the attention can be 
 centered elsewhere. 
 
 Deliberation an Essential Factor in the Right Culture of 
 the Will. No scheme of will culture which does not 
 insist on deliberation is of much account. This does not 
 mean that the same action must be repeatedly deliberated 
 over whenever it comes up. One process of careful delib- 
 eration at the outset may be enough. Some persons 
 make every trivial affair, such as deciding whether to go 
 to a picnic or to stay at home, sickly with the " pale cast of 
 thought," but youth is generally too rash to need any
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL. 353 
 
 caution in this direction. Action without thqught will, in 
 ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, land the doer in 
 trouble, unless the act is the result of a correct' y formed 
 habit, which had deliberation at its initial stage. 
 
 Many men of great activity have been the most success- 
 ful of their generation, because their activity has been 
 coupled with far-reaching foresight. Others, with activities 
 equally great, have never recovered from some early rash 
 misstep. Every small panic or fluctuation in the money 
 market catches scores of these men, because they rushed 
 into some investment which a little deliberation would 
 have shown to be unsafe in a state of financial depression. 
 This truth is embodied in the proverbs : " Look before you 
 leap," and " Be sure you are right, then go ahead." 
 
 A habit of deliberation in cases of violent emotion is 
 a difficult one to form. When one feels strongly, the 
 motor idea is often followed immediately by motor action. 
 A fit of anger has escaped us before we were aware. We 
 have said something that we shall regret all our lives 
 before we could seem to apply the brakes to speech. 
 The only safeguard against these sudden motor out- 
 breaks is to be continually on the lookout for the pro- 
 voking causes, and to have the brakes of repression 
 half applied before the cause is operative. The habit 
 of being watchful and of applying motor inhibition will 
 soon begin to form, and the task will grow constantly 
 easier. In other cases, where the emotion is of slower 
 growth, the attention must be drawn away from the 
 emotion-provoking idea before it grows too strong. 
 
 The truth is important, that one must learn to think in 
 order to cultivate will power correctly. Man has improved 
 faster than the beasts, because his voluntary acts have been 
 guided by progressive thought toward higher ends. 
 HALLECK'S PSYC. 23 
 
 -
 
 354 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 The Two Factors in the Rise and the Decline of a 
 Tendency to Voluntary Action. We may call the first the 
 motor factor, i.e., that voluntary power which rouses or 
 represses the muscular expression of emotion. We know 
 that animals, barbarians, and children generally allow 
 motor discharge without inhibition, and that control 
 comes in some way or other with culture. With refer- 
 ence to the first factor, Professor H off ding says : " Even 
 if we cannot prevent a feeling from arising, we may 
 possibly prevent it from spreading, by inhibiting the 
 organic movement which accompanies it, and indulgence 
 in which augments it." 
 
 The second is the ideational factor, and that is the more 
 powerful with cultivated persons, because action grows to 
 be more and more the result of ideas. We saw that the 
 actions of men were grounded upon some desire or aver- 
 sion. It should always be remembered that desire gains 
 strength from keeping the mind filled with ideas of 
 the desired object, and that desire of forbidden things 
 frequently becomes so strong as to master the will. In 
 such a case, the task of the will is to weaken the desire 
 at the start by withdrawing the attention from the foster- 
 ing ideas. 
 
 Tenacity of Attention. From what has already been 
 said, it can be inferred that tenacious attention is one of 
 the strongest factors in a cultivated will. Some modern 
 psychologists insist that attention is the only power of the 
 will. Be that as it may, it is hardly possible to overesti- 
 mate the importance of tenacious attention. A man with 
 half the natural ability of some geniuses often accomplishes 
 far more, because he keeps his attention undivided on 
 one thing until he has mastered it. They might have
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL. 355 
 
 learned it in half the time, had they been equally atten- 
 tive. Their genius scorned the restraint of attention. The 
 butterfly element in their nature demanded a large meadow 
 and many flowers. The movements of a butterfly are 
 quicker and more pleasing to watch than an ant's, but the 
 latter lays up more for winter. Of course when a genius 
 exercises the power of undivided attention, he will surpass 
 those of less ability ; but the fable of how the tortoise beat 
 the hare was suggested by the success of plodding atten- 
 tion. 
 
 The man who can hold uninteresting ideas before his 
 mind until they gather interest, is the man who is going 
 to succeed. Charles Dickens said that the reason of his 
 success consisted in throwing his entire attention into 
 whatever he happened to be doing, no matter how quickly 
 that might be succeeded by something else. 
 
 The only way to cultivate attention is by a continuous 
 effort of will. If the attention wanders from any subject 
 for ninety-nine consecutive times, bring the attention back 
 ninety-nine consecutive times. Make an effort to concen- 
 trate the mental powers each time. If lack of attention 
 springs from weariness, rest. A habit of attention will 
 surely grow in this way. When a young colt is first 
 broken, he wants to run from one side of the street to 
 the other, to keep anywhere except in the proper place. 
 After the colt has been pulled back many times by the 
 bit, he finally learns to keep the middle of the road. 
 Attention is like the colt. Every young person ought 
 to add to his list of maxims : With all thy cultivating, 
 cultivate attention. 
 
 Feeling and Decision without Action. The oaciesf way 
 
 to ruin the will is to suffer emotions to evaporate without
 
 356 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC. CULTURE. 
 
 leading tO aCtlOIL. t.O.. framP rWicirmc 3^ f^^r. nnt- 
 
 them. The will and the character are very speedily 
 ruined in this way. From a moral point of view, those 
 persons are exceedingly contemptible who are always 
 " going tv_ do " something, but who never do it ; so are 
 also those who "will with reasons answer you" in regard 
 tp why they have done nothing. 
 
 /"A remarkably successful business man said he had 
 divided all persons into two classes : those who did what 
 they had promised or were directed to do, and those who 
 returned with some reason why they had not done it. 
 When he employed persons, he always set them a certain 
 hard task at the outset. If they returned with a reason 
 why they had not done it, he dismissed them. In this way 
 he surrounded himself with an unusually fine set of em- 
 ployees on whom he could depend. 
 
 After one has formed a decision with the proper delib- 
 eration, he should not fail to act on that decision except 
 for a newly discovered reason of the gravest sort. To 
 do otherwise is to sink a mine under the citadel of the 
 will. Musical gratification and novel reading are respon- 
 sible for innumerable ruined wills. Music often helps to 
 ruin the will because strong emotions are raised and 
 allowed to subside without action. In one of our large 
 cities a lady was recently moved to tears by some piteous 
 operatic music. That week the little child of her cook 
 died. Proper nursing might have saved it. The lady 
 had been appealed to. She was sorry, and she was 
 "going to do" something for it; but inactivity followed 
 the emotion of sorrow. Music sometimes touches every 
 emotional chord in our natures. The mournful strings 
 are swept, and we seem to feel, in one rapidly rising emo- 
 , all the sorrow that any of earth's creatures has ever
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL. 357 
 
 known. The notes sound full and strong, and we feel that 
 the whole world is plastic in our hands. This feeling 
 evaporates without outcome in action. We thus habit- 
 uate ourselves to emotion and desire, without acting on 
 them. The promptings of music might result in some- 
 thing other than fine selfish gratification, if, fired by a 
 noble emotion which the music aroused, we went out into 
 the world and did noble deeds. Some pqwer is needed to 
 ut it had far better not h "tigfj, tf fr 
 
 rines^nnt end in 
 
 The results of fiction are equally bad, unless its 
 promptings are . responded to by the will. There is an 
 oft-quoted example of a Russian lady who wept over the 
 sufferings of a fictitious character in the play, while her 
 coachman was freezing to death on her carriage out- 
 side the theater. There are a thousand who feel sorry 
 for suffering, to one who acts energetically to relieve it. 
 A maxim for every one ought to be : Never frame a good 
 decision, never experience a glow of fine emotion, without a 
 strong endeavor to respond by action in the proper way. 
 
 Tempering the Will along the Line of the Greatest 
 Resistance. Nothing schools the will, and renders it 
 ready for effort in this complex world, better than accus- 
 toming it to face disagreeable things. Professor James 
 advises all to do something occasionally for no other 
 reason than that they would rather not do it, if it is 
 nothing more than giving up a seat in a street car. He 
 likens such effort to the insurance that a man pays on 
 his house. He has something that he can fall back on 
 in time of trouble. A will schooled in this way is always 
 ready to respond, no matter how great the emergency. 
 While another would be still crying over spilled milk, 
 
 1 

 
 358 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 the possessor of such a will has already begun to milk 
 another cow. 
 
 When Napoleon found the Alps in his way, he scaled 
 them while another general would have been lamenting 
 the obstruction. No general ever had a more energetic 
 and better trained will. He had it under such control, that 
 he could enter on a line of disagreeable effort, involving 
 great hardships, with no seeming struggle. Quick and 
 severe effort is never easy for any one. Few have the 
 will to undertake it, but Napoleon moved with such energy 
 that he never failed to carry the war into the enemy's 
 country. Even Waterloo was not fought -on French soil. 
 Julius Caesar, Oliver Cromwell, George Washington, ancT 
 all other world-famous men have been the possessors of 
 wills that acted in the line, of the greatest resistance, 
 with as much seeming ease as if the action were agree^ 
 able. 
 
 The only way to secure such a will is to practice doing 
 disagreeable things. There are daily opportunities. Visit- 
 ing the sick furnishes an opportunity to those who dislike 
 it. A man, who had declared his aversion to what he 
 termed the dry facts of political economy, was one day 
 found knitting his brow over a chapter of John Stuart Mill. 
 When a friend expressed surprise, the man replied : " I 
 am playing the schoolmaster with myself. I am reading 
 this because I dislike it." Such a man has the elements of 
 success in him. Let a person, the moment he finds a worcf\ 
 of whose meaning or pronunciation he is not sure, start for 
 the dictionary. He need not despise so simple an act as 
 this, for the effort against the tendency to put off looking 
 up a word until it is forgotten keeps the will from rusting^ 
 On the other hand, the one who habitually avoids disagree- 
 able action is training his will to be of no use to him at a
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF THE WILL. 359 
 
 time when supreme effort is demanded. Such a will can 
 never elbow its way to the front in life. 
 
 Individuality and the Development of Character. Per- 
 sons of character always have well-cultivated wills. Life's 
 duties are certain to involve doing disagreeable things, 
 and this takes will power. An unstable man can never 
 be._a- person of character. Stability is founded upon will. 
 Stability demands the following of a definite, and often 
 difficult, consistent line of conduct, the swerving neither 
 to the right nor to the left. The man who is honest oT 
 punctual or diligent by fits and starts will never occupy a 
 high place among his fellow men, for they will soon see 
 that he lacks character. The tremendous competition m 
 life is felt less by men of character, for there are scarcely 
 enough of these to fill positions that demand such men. 
 Rvery avenue of life is thronged by those uncertain crea- 
 tures, whose conduct and actions are a mere reflection of 
 their surroundings. Such persons waste time in drinking, 
 card playing, or some other form of dissipation. It was an- 
 nounced, during the late financial depression, that a cer- 
 tain man had failed. " No, that is impossible," said the 
 president of a large corporation ; " his character and will 
 power are worth a million dollars, and I shall gladly 
 employ him if he will come to me." 
 
 Again, character demands that any certain desirable line 
 of ideas should be kept before the mind until they domi- 
 nate it. A person can have individuality only along some 
 given line, which implies long-continued study and much 
 mental concentration. The self is a bundle of such mental 
 states as persist, and recur again and again. Where there 
 is no capacity for continuous, and continually recurring, 
 mental states, there can be no individuality, no persistent
 
 360 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 self, no fixed character. Rattle-brained persons, gossips, 
 and other fickle creatures cannot be properly said to have 
 any individual self. Nor will any one acquire individuality 
 by now studying a little mathematics, or astronomy, or 
 geology, now skimming over a few selections of English 
 or French literature, now beginning the study of German 
 or drawing, but stopping the moment it becomes hard, 
 the moment it begins to build up real individuality. It 
 is the function of a well-trained will to adhere to a given 
 line of conduct or ideas, until they have become an integral 
 part of the self. Only those ideas which are so absorbed 
 become valuable elements of the character. 
 
 We are coins, the metal of which has been dug from the 
 mines of our inborn intellectual and moral faculties by the 
 will power. If we properly work these mines, we may find 
 metal enough in us to justify a stamp of a very high value. 
 On the other hand, though there is much unmined metal 
 beneath the surface, we often form a character marked 
 with a penny stamp. It may be true that circumstancesV\ 
 stamp us to a certain extent, but it is also true that the \\ 
 way in which we use them stamps us indelibly. -*
 
 INDEX 
 
 ABSTRACT ideas, 188-190. 
 
 Abstraction, 184. 
 
 ^Esthetic emotion, 262-268. 
 
 a resultant, 266. 
 
 associative elements in, 129, 130, 
 265. 
 
 culture of, 289. 
 
 intellectual elements in, 264, 265. 
 
 sensuous element in, 263. 
 
 variations in, 267. 
 
 Agassiz's method of cultivating per- 
 ception, 94-96. 
 
 Allen, Grant, quoted, 245, 264, 290. 
 Altruistic emotion, 257-259. 
 
 culture of, 288. 
 
 development of, 288. 
 
 in morals, 270-272. 
 Analogy, 228. 
 Animal intelligence, 205-213. 
 
 contrasted with humr.n, 213, 214. 
 Ant, intelligence of, 209, 210. 
 Apperception, 84-87. 
 
 biases ideas, 85, 219. 
 
 defined, 84. 
 
 important truths of, 85-87. 
 
 physical analogy to, 37, 62, 63. 
 Association of ideas, 111-131. 
 
 a factor in developing emotion, 
 260. 
 
 application of, in cultivating the 
 memory, 136-148. 
 
 by cerebral contiguity, 117. 
 
 by contiguity, 114, 122, 136, 212, 
 
 213. 35'- 
 by contrast, 121. 
 by correlation, 121, 122, 138. 
 by emotional preference, 1 23. 
 by repetition, 123. 
 by similarity, 115, 118, 121. 
 changeable, 125. 
 
 Association of ideas, determines fash- 
 ion, 129, 130. 
 
 in aesthetic emotion, 265. 
 
 in dreams, 127. 
 
 obscure, 112, 119. 
 
 physical basis of, 112, 113. 
 
 power of, 128-131. 
 
 primary law of, 114-118. 
 
 reasoning by, 211. 
 
 secondary laws of, 119-126; 138- 
 148. 
 
 time required for, 42. 
 
 volitional, 126. 
 Attention, 52-55. 
 
 and interest, 54. 
 
 and memory, 146. 
 
 and sensation, 55, 64. 
 
 cultivation of, 355. 
 
 develops motor power in ideas. 
 
 3'5- 
 
 direction of, 53. 
 factors in, 53. 
 
 fatigues brain cells, 54, 248, 276. 
 importance of, 55, 92, 126. 
 inconstant, 54. 
 increases feeling, 248. 
 laws of, 54, 55, 248. 
 reflex, 53. 
 
 voluntary, 54, 55, 315. 
 Automatism, 49, 60, 303. 
 
 BELIEF, 220, 221. 
 
 Blackie, J. S., quoted, 138, 139. 
 
 Brain, 21-29. 
 
 area of, 28. 
 
 auditory center in, 25. 
 
 automatic action of, in perception, 
 
 77- 
 cells of, broken down by pain, 
 
 243-
 
 362 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Brain, connective fibers in, 113, 117. 
 cortex of, 26. 
 decadence of, 28. 
 effect of mental action on, 27, 64. 
 effect of repetition on, 133. 
 growth of, 28. 
 gustatory center in, 26. 
 landmarks of, 23. 
 lobes of, 23. 
 localization in, 23-26. 
 motor center in, 24. 
 number of cells in, 103. 
 olfactory center in, 26. 
 optical center in, 25. 
 plasticity in youth, 28, 104. 
 quality of sensation determined 
 
 according to receiving locality 
 
 in, 62. 
 
 quickness of action of, 41, 42, 77. 
 tactile center in, 25. 
 unconscious working of, 44, 128. 
 Brodie, Sir Benjamin, quoted, 161. 
 
 CASTLE-BUILDING, 178. 
 
 Cause and effect, 203, 205-207, 343. 
 
 Cerebellum', 20. 
 
 Character, formation of, 232, 236, 338- 
 
 34i. 359. 3- 
 
 Children's imagination, 154, 157. 
 Children's reasoning, 215. 
 Choice, 324. 
 
 Classification, illustrated by diagram 
 of mental powers, 51. 
 
 in cultivation of thought, 226. 
 
 of emotions, 253. 
 
 of mental powers, 49-51. 
 
 of types of action, ^DI. 
 Coleridge, S. T., quoted, 174. 
 Comparison, 214-220, 227, 234, 261. 
 Complexity of knowledge, 56, 57. 
 Contrast, necessary for enjoyment, 280, 
 
 293- 
 Concept, 183-191. 
 
 abstraction in the, 184. 
 changes in the, 186. 
 comparison in the, 184. 
 contrasted with image, 187. 
 denomination in the, 185. 
 faulty, 1 86. 
 
 formation of, 183-185, 224. 
 forming a, in actual life, 185. 
 generalization in the, 185. 
 
 Concept, perception in the, 183. 
 Conscience, theories of, 270. 
 Consciousness, 43-52. 
 
 activity outside, 44, 48, 77, 163, 
 300. 
 
 defined, 44. 
 
 difference in states of, 49. 
 
 exists for a purpose, 305, 344. 
 
 Huxley, T. H., on, 45. 
 
 mystery of, 45. 
 
 necessity of study of, 46, 47. 
 
 of self, 45, 69, 70. 
 Constructive imagination, 156-158. 
 Contiguity, law of, 114, 136, 319, 351. 
 Contradiction, law of, 201. 
 Contrast, in association, 1 21. 
 
 in emotion, 280. 
 
 in feeling, 246. 
 Cook, Joseph, quoted, 146. 
 Contagion of emotion, 283-284. 
 Correlation, law of, 121, 122, 138. 
 Crow, intelligence of, 208, 209. 
 Cultivation, of attention, 355. 
 
 of emotion, 285-298. 
 
 of imagination, 166-179. 
 
 of memory, 132-149. 
 
 of oerception, 89-100. 
 
 of sympathy, 177, 257-259. 
 
 of the nervous system, 28, 29, 108, 
 133. 289, 338, 348-352. 
 
 of thought, 222-238. 
 
 of will, 348-360. 
 
 DECISION, 324. 
 
 Deduction, 199, 216. 
 
 Definition, 45, 225. 
 
 Denomination, 185. 
 
 Desire, 320-323. 
 
 Dissociation, 152. 
 
 Distance, judgments concerning, 58. 
 
 Dog, intelligence of, 208, 214. 
 
 Dreams, 127, 128. 
 
 EAR, 38. (See also Hearing.) 
 Ebbinghaus's experiments with mem- 
 ory, 144. 
 
 Egoistic emotion, 255, 256. 
 Emotion, 249-284. (See also Feel- 
 ing-) 
 
 aesthetic, 262-268. 
 altruistic, 257-259, 288. 
 bodily feeling in, 250, 253.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 363 
 
 Emotion, changeableness of, 276. 
 
 classification of, 253. 
 
 compared with feeling, 249, 253. 
 
 conspiring and conflicting, 277. 
 
 contrast necessary for development 
 of, 280. 
 
 defined, 249. 
 
 developed by association of ideas, 
 260. 
 
 effect of, upon intellectual action, 
 278. 
 
 egoistic, 255. 
 
 expression of, 251, 287. 
 
 factors determining rise and decline 
 of, 274-276. 
 
 feeling present in, 249. 
 
 general truths of, 272-284. 
 
 hygienic aspects of, 281-284. 
 
 ideas best fitted to raise, 279. 
 
 instinctive tendencies to, 272-274. 
 
 intellectual, 259-262. 
 
 moral, 268-272. 
 
 of the ludicrous, 261. 
 
 produced by muscular expression, 
 252. 
 
 sympathetic contagion of, 283 
 Emotion, cultivation of, 285-298. 
 
 by active will, 287. 
 
 by aesthetic improvement, 289. 
 
 by attending to appropriate ideas, 
 286. 
 
 by controlling physical expression, 
 287, 354- 
 
 by forming correct emotional hab- 
 its, 285. 
 
 by inhibition, 287, 329. 
 
 by literature, 290. 
 
 by practising altruism, 258. 
 
 by seeking proper enjoyment, 290- 
 298. 
 
 time for, 296. 
 
 Enjoyment, 290-298. (See also Pleas- 
 ure.) 
 
 as object of life, 291, 295. 
 
 contrast necessary for, 293. 
 
 extinction of taste for, 297, 298. 
 
 factors in, 292. 
 
 necessity for early, 296. 
 
 pretensions fatal to, 294. 
 
 stored force necessary for, 241- 
 ">\j[. 
 
 unconscious influences in, 274. 
 
 Environment, 339, 340, 360. 
 Ethics, 268-272, 344, 345. 
 Everett, Edward, quoted, 168. 
 Excluded middle, law of, 201. 
 Expression of emotion, 251, 252, 287, 
 
 354- 
 
 Extension, 190. 
 Eyet 33- (See also Sight.) 
 muscles of, 34. 
 
 FACULTIES, mental, 49-52. 
 
 all, represented in a complete men- 
 tal act, 51. 
 Fashions determined by association, 
 
 129, 130. 
 
 Fechner's law, 65. 
 
 Feeling, 239-249. (See also Emo- 
 tion.) 
 
 attention directed toward, 248. 
 
 compared with emotion, 249, 253. 
 
 contrast in, 246. 
 
 correspondence of, to stimulus, 245. 
 
 denned, 239, 249. 
 
 difference in, 240. 
 
 different from sensation, 239, 240. 
 
 ideal, 246, 248. 
 
 importance of, 240. 
 
 intensity of, 245, 246. 
 
 neutral, 239, 241. 
 
 painful, 241-245. 
 
 peculiarly subjective, 240. 
 
 pleasurable, 241-244. 
 
 quality of, 241, 247. 
 
 quantitative aspects of, 245, 248. 
 
 relation of, to emotion, 249, 253. 
 
 sensuous, 246, 263. 
 
 sensuous contrasted with ideal, 
 246, 247. 
 
 GALTON, Sir Francis, quoted, 135. 
 Ganglia, 15, 1 8. 
 Generalization, 185. 
 
 HABIT, 348-352. 
 
 a product of contiguous associa- 
 tion, 351. 
 
 as a result of voluntary process, 337. 
 
 as organic memory, 352. 
 
 easily formed in youth, 348, 349. 
 
 physiological explanation of, 338. 
 
 rules for forming a, 349-352. 
 Hallucination, 88. 
 Hearing, 37-39, 60, 78.
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Heredity, 339, 340. 
 
 Hoffding, H., quoted, 40, 163, 246, 
 308, 325, 354. 
 
 Horse, intelligence of, 208. 
 
 Houdin's methods for cultivating per- 
 ception, 89, 100. 
 
 Humor, 262. 
 
 Huxley, T. H., quoted, 45. 
 
 Hypnotism, 54, 108, 319. 
 
 IDEALS, formation of, 176, 179. 
 Ideas, abstract, 188, 189. 
 
 and attention, 315. 
 
 are mental objects, 47. 
 
 as symbolic images, 107. 
 
 best fitted to raise emotion, 279. 
 
 motor element in, 315-318. 
 
 not literal copies of existing things, 
 
 I S I - 
 
 powerful in raising feeling and 
 emotion, 246, 248, 275. 
 
 precede all progress, 47. 
 Identity, 200, 225, 237. 
 Illusion, 87, 88. 
 
 aural, 39. 
 
 due to activity of brain cells, 88, 
 108, 109. 
 
 due to misinterpretation of phe- 
 nomena, 63, 70, 87. 
 
 gustatory, 80. 
 
 optical, 37, 75. 
 
 primary, 37, 62, 63, 87. 
 
 thermal, 32. 
 Images, 106-108, 152, 169. 
 
 contrasted with concepts, 187. 
 
 relation of, to reality, 108, 109, 
 
 152. 
 
 thinking by, 175, 188. 
 Imagination, 150-179. 
 abuse of, 178. 
 combining power of, 154. 
 constructive, 156-158. 
 definition of, 150, 151. 
 depends primarily upon percep- 
 tion, 158. 
 
 different products of, 154, 155. 
 direction of, 160. 
 influence of, on body, 163. 
 in perception, 150. 
 in scientific investigation, 161. 
 limits of, 159. 
 mechanical, 156. 
 
 Imagination, motor, 334. 
 
 not absolutely distinguishable from 
 
 memory, 151. 
 of practical service, 1 66. 
 power of, to diminish and enlarge, 
 
 155; 
 
 separating power of, 154. 
 
 twoclassesof images formed by, 152. 
 
 two uses of the term, 151. 
 
 unconscious process in, 162. 
 Imagination, cultivation of, 166-179. 
 
 by clear cut images, 169. 
 
 by completing unfinished stories, 
 172. 
 
 by forming an ideal, 176, 179. 
 
 by forming original images, 173. 
 
 by oral description, 171. 
 
 by pictorial interpretation, 1 70. 
 
 by writing, 1 72. 
 
 common materials for, 168. 
 
 in sympathy, 177, 258. 
 
 in the Elizabethan age, 174. 
 
 in thinking by images, 175. 
 
 requires abundant perception, 1 66. 
 Imitative action, 319. 
 Impulsive action, 301, 307-309. 
 Individuality, 232. 
 Induction, 195-199' 
 
 danger in hasty, 198. 
 
 guiding principle in, 199. 
 
 perfect and imperfect, 197. 
 Infinite, the, 160. 
 Inhibition, 327-33. 353- 
 Innate ideas, 206. 
 Instinct, 301, 309-315. 
 Intension, conceptual quality of, 190. 
 Introspection, 47. 
 Intuition, 203-207. 
 
 JAMES, W., quoted, 29, 287, 297, 338. 
 Judgment, 191-194. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE, a resultant of all mental 
 
 powers, 58. 
 complexity of, 56, 57. 
 simple, 56. 
 
 subconscious, 48, 107, 352. 
 the interpretation of sensations, 34, 
 
 36, 60, 61, 66, 68, 72, 81. 
 
 LOCALIZATION in brain, 24-27, 113. 
 Local sensations, 63, 69. 
 Ludicrous, the, 261.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 365 
 
 McKENDRlCK and Snodgrass, quoted, 
 
 31- 
 
 Medulla oblongata, 20. 
 Memory, loi-m. 
 
 definition of, 102, 106. 
 
 difference between presentative 
 and representative images, 109. 
 
 different kinds of, 1 10. 
 
 entire brain the organ of, 26. 
 
 images, 106. 
 
 images, when not before conscious- 
 ness, 1 06. 
 
 imagination in, 106, 151. 
 
 objects of, 102. 
 
 of unrelated facts, 140, 141. 
 
 physical basis of, 103, 105, 133. 
 
 powers involved in, 109. 
 
 relation of, to perception, 101. 
 
 value of repetition in, 103, 104, 
 
 133- 
 
 varieties of remembered objects, 
 
 102. 
 Memory culture, 132-149. 
 
 brain modification in, 132, 133. 
 
 by clear images, 134. 
 
 by comparison, 139-141. 
 
 by contiguous association, 136, 137. 
 
 by correlative association, 138. 
 
 by interest, 145. 
 
 by mnemonics, 149. 
 
 by repetition, 143, 144. 
 
 by study of relations, 141. 
 
 by visualizing, 134, 135. 
 
 by voluntary attention, 147. 
 
 founded on psychic laws, 149. 
 Mental objects, 46. 
 Middle term, 216. 
 Mind, classification of powers of, 49 
 
 S*- 
 
 conditioned by nervous svstem, 47. 
 
 immortality of, 105. 
 
 nature of, 43. 
 
 works as a unit, 51, 56-59, 67. 
 Mind-wandering, cure for, 148. 
 Mnemonics, 149. 
 Moral emotion, 268-272. 
 Morality and thought, 236. 
 Motive in willing, 331, 344. 
 Motor aspect of ideas, 315-320. 
 Motor brain tracts, 24. 
 Motor nerves, 13. 
 Muscle reading, 318. 
 
 Muscular sensations, 32, 34, 71-73. 
 Music, effects of, on will, 356. 
 
 NERVE cells, 12, 15, 88, 103. 
 
 broken down by pain, 243, ->^ 
 
 energy in, 242, 243, 275. 
 
 modification of, in memory, 133, 
 247. 
 
 number of, in brain, 103. 
 Nerves, afferent and efferent, 13. 
 
 auditory, 38. 
 
 of association, 113. 
 
 of pain, 31. 
 
 olfactory, 39. 
 
 optic, 34. 
 
 sensory and motor, 13, 17, 18, 40, 
 41. 
 
 size and function of, 13. 
 
 speed of transmission of stimuli 
 by, 40. 
 
 spinal, 17. 
 
 tactile, 30. 
 
 thermal, 31. 
 Nervous currents in reflex action, 304, 
 
 35- 
 Nervous stimuli, speed of transmission 
 
 of, 40-42. 
 Nervous system, 9-42. 
 
 all knowledge primarily dependent 
 
 upon the, 61. 
 
 and pleasure, 241, 242, 244. 
 a transmitter of stimuli, 10. 
 central, 16-29. 
 chief elements of, 12. 
 cultivation of, 28, 29, 108, 133, 289, 
 
 348-352. 
 
 dependence of mind on, 10. 
 how affected by pleasure and pain, 
 
 241-245. 
 peripheral, 29-40. 
 
 OBJECTIVE mental state, 46, 47. 
 
 PAIN, 241-245, 248, 291. 
 
 breaks down nerve cells, 243, 244. 
 Perception, 66-88. 
 
 all mental powers present in, 67. 
 
 an interpretation of sensations, 66, 
 68, 72. 
 
 by hearing, 77. 
 
 by sight, 72-76, 
 
 by smell, 79. 
 
 by taste, 80.
 
 366 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Perception, by touch, 68-70. 
 completed, 83. 
 defined, 66. 
 factors in, 56. 
 object of, 61, 83. 
 of bodily self, 69, 70. 
 of local sensations, 69, 70. 
 of space, 70, 71, 74, 75. 
 quickness of, 76, 77. 
 reasoning in, 80-83. 
 sensations translated by, into 
 
 knowledge, 67. 
 transferred, 81. 
 
 Perception, cultivation of, 89100. 
 Agassiz's method for, 94-96. 
 best studies for, 96, 97. 
 books hinder, 91. 
 by attention to details, 94. 
 concentrated attention necessary 
 
 for, 92. 
 
 criminals' methods for, 98. 
 demanded for success, 90. 
 directions for, 93. 
 necessary to enjoy travel and liter- 
 ature, 90, 91. 
 Houdin on, 89, 100. 
 often excellent in the uneducated, 
 
 92. 
 
 rapidity in, 98, 99. 
 time for, 89. 
 value of nature in, 92. 
 Physical basis of memory, 103. 
 Physiological psychology, 9-42. 
 
 on activity of brain cells in mental 
 
 action, 107, 108, 133, 248. 
 on aesthetic emotion, 263, 267, 289. 
 on association of ideas, 112-114, 
 
 117-119. 
 
 on attention, 53, 54, 248, 335. 
 on basis of memory, 102-105, 133. 
 on enjoyment, 290, 291, 293. 
 on expression of emotion, 251, 252, 
 
 287. 
 
 on habit, 338, 348, 352. 
 on hygienic aspect of will, 346, 
 
 347- 
 on hygienic influence of emotion, 
 
 281-284. 
 
 on illusions, 32, 34, 62, 63, 70, 87. 
 on inhibition, 327-330. 
 on limitation of nervous energy, 
 
 242, 246, 275. 
 
 Physiological psychology, on localiza- 
 tion of functions, 24, 112, 153. 
 
 on motor tendency in ideas, 317- 
 320, 350. 
 
 on muscular sensations, 72. 
 
 on obscure association of ideas, 
 119. 
 
 on pain, 31, 241-245, 248, 291. 
 
 on physical factors in emotion, 
 249, 252, 275, 286, 354. 
 
 on pleasure, 241-244, 248. 
 
 on reality, 32, 34, 35, 6l, 62. 
 
 on reflex action, 18, 53, 301-306, 
 310, 334, 337. 
 
 on stored nervous force, 241, 242. 
 
 on tendency of sensory stimuli to 
 pour out in motor currents, 
 
 303, 305- 
 
 on time required for nervous reac- 
 tions, 40-42. 
 on unconscious processes, 44, 162, 
 
 300, 338. 
 
 Physiological time, 40-42. 
 Pleasure, 241-244, 248. (See also 
 
 Enjoyment.) 
 
 result of use of stored force, 242. 
 Presentation, 56-88. 
 Pressure, sensation of, 31. 
 Psychology, defined, 9. 
 
 RADCLIFFE, Mrs. Ann, quoted, 122. 
 Reaction time, 41, 42. 
 Reasoning, 194-200. (See also 
 Thought.) 
 
 associational, 211. 
 
 deductive, 199, 216. 
 
 inductive, 195. 
 
 in perception, 80-83. 
 
 of animals, 207-214. 
 
 of children, 215. 
 Reflex action, 18, 301-306, 310. 
 
 conscious, 304-306. 
 
 in attention, 53, 54, 146, 147. 
 
 scheme of, 19. 
 
 unconscious, 302-304. 
 
 voluntary action lapses into, 337, 
 
 338. 
 Relativity, of knowledge, 84, 192. 
 
 of sensations, 63, 66. 
 Remorse, 345. 
 Repetition, 123, 133, 143. 
 Representation, 101-131.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 367 
 
 Retinal image, 34, 72. 
 
 Richardson, Dr. B. W., quoted, 281, 
 
 282. 
 Romanes, G. J., quoted, 208, 349. 
 
 SECONDARY laws of association, 119- 
 126. 
 
 applied in cultivation of memory, 
 
 138-148. 
 
 Self-consciousness, 45. 
 Sensation, 59-66. 
 
 conditions of, 60. 
 
 conveys only a small fraction of the 
 world's phenomena, 60, 61. 
 
 defined, 59. 
 
 Fechner's law of, 65. 
 
 in amputated limb, 70. 
 
 intensity of, 64. 
 
 in transplanted skin, 63. 
 
 limits of, 60. 
 
 local qualities of, 63, 69. 
 
 muscular, 32, 71, 72. 
 
 nerves of, 1 3, 40. 
 
 quality of, 62. 
 
 threshold of, 65. 
 
 transformed into motor impulse, 
 
 303- 
 
 Weber's law of, 65. 
 
 what we really know through, 32, 
 
 61. 
 
 Sensations, depend for quality upon 
 preceding sensations, 31, 62, 63. 
 
 location of, in brain, 25. 
 
 persistence of, 31, 37. 
 
 relativity of, 63. 
 
 thermal, 31. 
 
 through hearing, 37-39, 60, 77. 
 
 through sight, 32, 73. 
 
 through smell, 39. 
 
 through taste, 40. 
 
 through touch, 29. 
 Senses, 29-40. 
 
 testimony of the, only relatively 
 
 true, 32, 36, 61, 63, 66, 72. 
 Sensory brain tracts, 25. 
 Sensory nerves, 13. 
 Sight, 32-37. 
 
 binocular, 36, 73, 74. 
 
 center of, in brain, 25. 
 
 color shades distinguishable by, 
 
 37- 
 double, 36. 
 
 Sight, field of, 74. 
 
 image in, not like the object, 34, 
 36. 
 
 monocular, 73. 
 
 primary illusions of, 37. 
 Similarity, association by, 1 1 5, 1 1 7, 1 1 8, 
 
 121, 138, 213. 
 
 Smell, 39, 79. 
 
 Spatial perception, 34, 70, 71, 75. 
 Spinal cord, 1 6. 
 Subconscious field, 48, 107. 
 Subjective mental state, 46, 47. 
 Suggestion, 318. 
 
 Sully, James, quoted, 266, 268, 320. 
 Sympathy, community of experience 
 necessary for, 258. 
 
 conditions of, 257. 
 
 contagion of emotion through, 283. 
 
 cultivation of, 177, 257-259. 
 
 increase of, 259. 
 
 TASTE, sense of, 40, 80. 
 Temperature sensations, 31, 32. 
 Thought, 180-221. (See also: Ani- 
 mal Intelligence, Belief, Com- 
 parison, Concept, Deduction, 
 Induction, Knowledge, Intui- 
 tion, Judgment, Reasoning.) 
 
 active from the first, 182. 
 
 and character, 236. 
 
 breadth of, 231. 
 
 civilization a product of, 222. 
 
 definition of, 1 80. 
 
 first step in, 183. 
 
 in aesthetic enjoyment, 264. 
 
 in constructive imagination, 157* 
 
 in deliberative will, 323, 324. 
 
 in memory culture, 1 38^-140. 
 
 in perception, 57, 80-83. 
 
 necessary for morality, 236. 
 
 necessary for sympathy, 258. 
 
 primary laws of, 200. 
 
 relations traced out by, 202. 
 
 the basis of progress, 181. 
 
 three steps in, 195. 
 
 uses images, 175, 188. 
 
 variation in, 217-220. 
 Thought, cultivation of, 222-238. 
 
 by a wide field of study, 231. 
 
 by classification, 226. 
 
 by cultivating the memory, 138- 
 142.
 
 368 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY AND PSYCHIC CULTURE. 
 
 Thought, cultivation of, by developing 
 a definite self, 232, 360. 
 
 by forming accurate concepts, 224. 
 
 by search for analogies, 228-231. 
 
 by studying relations, 222, 226, 
 232. 
 
 by use of constructive imagination, 
 
 '57- 
 
 effect of, on character, 232, 236. 
 
 fiction in, 233-235. 
 
 in aesthetics, 264, 289. 
 
 time for, 237. 
 
 value of special studies in, 237. 
 Threshold of sensation, 65. 
 Time, idea of, 204. 
 Touch, 29-31. 
 
 interpretation of, 68-70. 
 
 nerves of, 30. 
 
 persistence of tactile sensations, 
 
 . 3i- 
 
 Training. (See Cultivation.) 
 
 Tuke, Dr. D. H., quoted, 164, 165, 
 
 346, 347- 
 Tyndall, John, quoted, 162, 175, 176. 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS processes, 44, 128, 162, 
 
 163, 272, 273, 300. 
 Utilitarian theory of morals, 270-272. 
 
 VISION, field of, 74. (See also Sight.) 
 Visualizing, in training memory, 134, 
 
 '35- 
 
 Visual perception, 72-76. 
 Voluntary attention, 53, 315, 331, 344. 
 
 WEBER'S law, 65. 
 Will, 299-347. 
 
 and motive, 331. 
 
 as attention, 315, 331, 344. 
 
 as product of sensory stimulus, 303, 
 310. 
 
 choice in, 324-326. 
 
 completed act of, 326. 
 
 decision in, 324. 
 
 Will, deliberative, 315-337. 
 
 desire antecedent to, 320-323. 
 development of, 333-337. 
 differentiated from other mental 
 
 powers, 299, 300. 
 different types of, 301, 302. 
 direction of, 330. 
 foundations of, 300. 
 freedom of, 332, 341-345- 
 hygienic aspects of, 346. 
 imitative aspects of, 319. 
 impulsive action in, 307309. 
 in developing character, 338-341, 
 
 359, 36o- 
 
 inhibitive aspect of, 327-330. 
 
 instinctive tendencies in, 309-315. 
 
 intellectual factor in, 321-324. 
 
 motor aspect of ideas, related to, 
 315-320. 
 
 preceded either by sensation or 
 idea, 316, 332. 
 
 reflexes at basis of, 302-306, 310. 
 
 suggestion in, 318. 
 Will, cultivation of, 348-360. 
 
 a result of development of char- 
 acter, 359, 360. 
 
 by controlling expression of emo- 
 tion, 287, 354. 
 
 by developing attention, 354, 355. 
 
 by doing distasteful acts, 357, 358. 
 
 deliberation an essential factor in, 
 
 352, 353- 
 
 in forming good habits, 348-352. 
 
 inhibition in, 327-330, 353. 
 
 motor ideas in, 320. 
 
 ruinous methods in, 356- 
 
 rules for, 349-352. 
 
 time for, 348, 349. 
 Wit, 262. 
 
 Wordsworth, William, quoted, 261. 
 Wundt, Wilhelm, quoted, 37, 151, 175. 
 
 ZIEHEN, Theodor, quoted, 61, 77,
 

 
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