fSBHBRHHH
 
 RELATION 
 
 OF 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY TO MUSIC 
 
 BY 
 
 E. F. BARTHOLOMEW, PH. D., D. D. 
 
 Professor in English Literature and Philosophy in Augustana College 
 and Conservatory of Jtusic. 
 
 SECOND EDITION, REVISED. 
 
 ROCK ISLAND, ILL. 
 
 THE NEW ERA PUBLISHING COMPANY.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899, 
 
 BY 
 P. E. PETERSON AND A. D. BODFOBS. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902, 
 
 BY 
 F. E. PETERSON AND K. T. ANDERSON. 
 
 LUTHERAN ATJGUSTANA BOOK CONCERN, 
 
 PBINTBBS AND BINDERS.
 
 TO 
 
 MY PUPILS, 
 
 WHOSE FAITHFULNESS AND MANIFEST APPRECIATION 
 
 HAVE INSPIRED CHEER AND ENCOURAGEMENT IN MY LABORS, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 20241C6
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The "Relation of Psychology to Music" was first published 
 in 1899. It was then considered somewhat of an experiment. 
 The result was such as to surpass all expectations of both 
 author and publishers. Encouraged by the favorable recep- 
 tion with which it has met and by the many enthusiastic 
 expressions of appreciation of its merits and value, the author 
 herewith gives forth a new, revised and stereotyped edition. 
 
 This volume consists of lectures delivered to the pupils 
 and faculty of the Augustana Conservatory of Music, Rock 
 Island, 111, during the years 1897 to 1899. At the request of 
 the pupils and numerous friends these lectures are here given 
 in the form in which they were delivered. This book is not 
 designed to be an exhaustive treatise on psychology, but its 
 object is to apply some of the principles of psychology to the 
 study of music. The author freely acknowledges his indebt- 
 edness to various works for suggestions, illustrations, etc.; 
 especially those of James, Halleck, Lindner, Davis, Mertz, 
 Tapper and Gates, to which, with others, reference is made 
 in foot notes. The numerous quotations are designed for 
 illustration and for bringing together in topical connection 
 the utterances of various authorities, thus greatly enhancing 
 the value of the work to students. "The Relation of Psychol- 
 ogy to Music" is, however, a new subject, and opens up an 
 exceedingly interesting and important field for investigation. 
 The questions at the end of each chapter are added to aid 
 students in preparing for examination on the principles of 
 psychology, where such examination is required, and also to 
 aid the general reader in fixing attention upon the subject 
 matter of the treatise. With the hope that music students
 
 6 
 
 in particular and all lovers of music in general, by the perusal 
 of these pages may be stimulated to a better appreciation of 
 musical science and art, and may receive some suggestions 
 which shall be of value in the pursuit of their studies, this 
 volume is given to the public. 
 
 E. F. BARTHOLOMEW. 
 Rock Island, 111., Jan. i, 1903.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction 9 
 
 CHAPTER I. THE NATURE OF Music 12 
 
 CHAPTER II. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL CHARACTER OF 
 
 Music STUDY 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. THE MUSICAL FACULTY 30 
 
 CHAPTER IV. CONCEPT-MASS AND PSYCHIC LIFE 40 
 
 CHAPTER V. MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION 47 
 
 CHAPTER VI. HABIT 66 
 
 CHAPTER VII. ASSOCIATION 114 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. MEMORY 154 
 
 CHAPTER IX. IMAGINATION 195 
 
 CHAPTER X. THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 238 
 
 CHAPTER XL THE WILL 271 
 
 Index.. ..277
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IN recent years a new movement has sprung up in 
 the musical world. A quiet but far reaching revo- 
 lution in methods of studying and teaching music 
 is now going on. This movement is not superficial 
 and temporary: it grows out of fundamental prin- 
 ciples. A new conception of musical art is working 
 its way into the popular mind and is rapidly trans- 
 forming the current notions about musical education. 
 Only a few years ago harmony and perhaps a glance 
 at counterpoint were considered quite enough for the 
 average student; anything more was considered a 
 mere accomplishment, not a necessary part of a 
 musical education. Even yet to a certain extent har- 
 mony is a sealed book, not only to the majority of 
 advanced pupils, but even to many teachers. 
 
 Progress in musical education has lagged behind 
 chiefly on account of two extreme and radically wrong 
 views as to the nature of music: first, that music is 
 almost exclusively a matter of practice, and secondly, 
 that it belongs to the realm of pure genius, in which 
 no rules and principles are to be recognized. But 
 music, on the one hand, is more than practice, more 
 than finger-gymnastics; on the other hand, it is not 
 the exclusive prerogative of so-called genius, what- 
 ever that may mean music may be cultivated by 
 those who are not geniuses in the proper sense of that 
 word. It is a great mistake to suppose that the 
 ability to read notes, together with a certain amount 
 of vocal and digital skill, constitutes a musical educa- 
 tion. According to the present conception, a musical
 
 10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 education includes a fair degree of acquaintance with 
 numerous other allied subjects, such as aesthetics, 
 acoustics, physiology, literature, history of music, 
 biography, in short, all the numerous elements relat- 
 ing to music both as a science and as an art, both 
 theoretical and practical. A well taught music pupil 
 must know not only how to read well, to finger cor- 
 rectly, and even to play a modern sonata or fantasia 
 with a degree of artistic skill, but he must also have 
 a sufficiently broad and thorough general culture to 
 enable him to judge correctly concerning the ethical 
 and aesthetical meaning of the compositions he plays. 
 Not only the fingers and hands and voice, but also 
 the mind must be well trained. There is a demand for 
 a broader intellectual foundation for the study of 
 music. The expansive and strengthening and sharpen- 
 ing influence of knowledge is needed quite as much for 
 the calling of a musician as for any other calling. 
 Whatever adds to our general power of efficiency, 
 adds just so much to our musical ability and re- 
 sources. 
 
 In regard to methods of teaching music, the change 
 now going on is just as radical. Many of the old ways 
 and ideas are discarded, not only because they are 
 found wanting, but because they are positively vi- 
 cious as being contrary to the nature of mind as well 
 as of muscles and nerves. The demand of the present 
 is that methods of music teaching be based on sound 
 pedagogical and rational principles. This movement 
 in regard to musical education is only part of a much 
 broader movement in general education, for musical 
 education rests on the same principles as any other 
 branch of education. 
 
 What has brought about the change of which we
 
 INTRODUCTION. II 
 
 speak? Chiefly, the study of psychology. Psycholo- 
 gy is now regarded as the fundamental science, the 
 science which must shape the methods of studying 
 and teaching every other subject. Correct scientific 
 knowledge of the mind and of its several modes of 
 activity, together with knowledge of the nervous sys- 
 tem, is at the bottom of everything pertaining to 
 methods and substance of educational work. 
 
 Teaching became a science and assumed a normal 
 and rational form only as psychology furnished the 
 motive and prepared the way. Pedagogical science 
 rests on knowledge of the mind, whether applied to the 
 learning or the teaching of subjects. In recent days 
 it has come to be understood that psychology stands 
 in most important relation to music and the study 
 of music. The subject is rapidly growing into favor 
 among music students and teachers all over the 
 country, as may easily be inferred from the current 
 musical literature. The signs of the times indicate 
 that along this line are to be achieved the best results 
 of progress for the years to come. Psychology is 
 gradually making its way into the conservatories of 
 the country and is rapidly transforming the tradi- 
 tional courses of study and methods of teaching. 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. What new movement in the musical world? 
 
 2. From what has this movement sprung? 
 
 3. Why has progress in musical education lagged behind? 
 
 4. Describe the new conception of musical education. 
 
 5. What is said of methods of teaching music? 
 
 6. What has the study of psychology effected? 
 
 7. Why is the study of psychology important to the music 
 student?
 
 THE NATURE OF MUSIC. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Nature of Music. 
 
 T' E design of this chapter is to gain an advan- 
 tageous point of outlook for our subject. In 
 order to discuss the relation of psychology to 
 music the two related things must be separately 
 brought into view, especially those aspects of them 
 which nave manifest reciprocal bearings. As our sub- 
 ject is mainly philosophical in its nature and prin- 
 ciples, we must bring into view the philosophical side 
 of music. Though philosophical in its principles, our 
 subject is yet profoundly simple and eminently prac- 
 tical. It is not something so lofty that only the 
 learned can understand it, but if rightly presented it 
 comes home to the comprehension of the common 
 people. 
 
 Hitherto comparatively little progress has been 
 made along the line of scientific investigation of the 
 nature of music. Even in our day music can hardly 
 be said to be grounded on a scientific basis, for it has 
 not wholly passed out of its mystical stage. For this 
 slow progress various reasons may be given, which it 
 is not necessary here to explain in detail. In general, 
 it may be said that music is one of the latest of the 
 arts to develop. For a long time it stood apart from 
 the other related arts as if, like religion, it was con- 
 sidered too sacred to be subjected to the rude process 
 of analysis. Then, too, music has been imagined to 
 belong to the transcendental realm of genius, in which
 
 ART RESTS ON SCIENCE. 13 
 
 ordinary scientific principles are supposed to have 
 only doubtful application. The art side of music has 
 been unduly exalted to the detriment of the science 
 side. But a true philosophy recognizes the fact that 
 every true art must rest on a basis of science, and 
 without this basis of science there can be no real prog- 
 ress hi art. Musical art is not an exception: it rests 
 on a musical science just as truly as the art of surgery 
 rests on the science of anatomy and physiology. To 
 ignore this simple principle is to envelop the true na- 
 ture of music in clouds of mist or to plunge it into the 
 chaotic deep of ignorance and superstition. To this 
 must be added that the old traditional view has 
 made everything of the outward mechanical side of 
 music and has utterly neglected the in ward psycholog- 
 ical and thought element. 
 
 Surrounded thus by prejudices and fettered by 
 traditional misconceptions, it is not strange that 
 music has lagged behind in scientific development. 
 When it shall have been freed from its grave-bands of 
 mediaeval mysticism, it will rise into a new life and 
 will go forward into a greater field of usefulness. In 
 recent times science has dared to lay its profane 
 hands upon the sacred subject of music, and now in- 
 sists upon applying its methods of analysis and syn- 
 thesis, of observation and experiment, of comparison 
 and induction to matters which before were supposed 
 to transcend all such tests. The result is that the 
 nature of music is better understood now than ever 
 before, and, instead of being the exclusive possession 
 of a favored few, music has been brought down from 
 its airy height to the homes and business of the com- 
 mon people.
 
 14 THE NATURE OF MUSIC. 
 
 Musical Phenomena. To-day music has its phe- 
 nomena just as any other subject of investigation, 
 and these phenomena are not considered inscrutable 
 mysteries but capable of scientific explanation. The 
 various facts about music, in so far as they are facts 
 of observation, have their causes just as truly as the 
 facts of nature and of common experience; these 
 causes can be studied and accurately ascertained. 
 Music has its fixed principles and laws, which, when 
 known, can be applied to the making of improvements 
 in the art, both in relation to theory and to practice. 
 For example, we all know that a major chord and a 
 minorchord do not affect the ear in the same way nor 
 do they awaken the same kind of feeling; it is no 
 mystery but an explainable phenomenon. 
 
 The major keys are generally adapted to sentiments 
 of gayety, pleasure, contentment, while the minor 
 keys are suited to the expression of sorrow, pity, fear, 
 melancholy, pathos, etc. Gretry, in his "Essays in 
 Music," says: "The key of C major is noble and frank, 
 that of C minor is pathetic. The key of D major is 
 brilliant, that of D minor is melancholy. The key of 
 E flat is grand and also pathetic; it is a semitone 
 higher than D major, and still does not in the least 
 resemble it. By ascending again a semitone, we reach 
 the key of E major, which is as sparkling as the pre- 
 ceding one was grand and melancholy. The key of E 
 minor is rather sad, although it is the first minor 
 scale in nature; that of F major is mixed; that of F 
 minor is the most pathetic of all; the key of F sharp 
 major is hard and sharp, because it is overloaded 
 with accidentals; the key of G major is warlike and 
 not as grand as C major; the key of G minor is the 
 most pathetic, except that of F minor. The key of
 
 CHARACTER OF KEYS AND INSTRUMENTS. 15 
 
 A major is very brilliant; that of A minor is the 
 simplest, least brilliant of all. The key of B flat is 
 grand, but less so than C major, and more pathetic 
 than F major; B major is brilliant and gay, while 
 B minor is adapted to express sincerity and artless- 
 ness." In general, all the minor keys are tinged with 
 melancholy and sadness, while the major keys are 
 brilliant and lively. It appears thus that each key 
 has its special character and awakens emotions pe- 
 culiar to itself. This fact rests on a scientific ground 
 and may be satisfactorily explained. 
 
 What has been said of the several keys, may also 
 be said of the various musical instruments. In addi- 
 tion to the timbre of the sounds produced by the 
 various instruments, all of which the physicist has 
 carefully analyzed, there is a deeper and more subtle 
 difference between them. Each kind of instrument 
 has its definite character, just as persons have their 
 particular character by which one differs from an- 
 other. Says Chomet: "The bassoon is mournful; 
 consequently it should be employed in expressing sor- 
 row and pathos. The clarionet is suitable for the ex- 
 pression of grief; and if it is used for rendering merry 
 music, the same is sure to be tinged with sadness. . . . 
 The flute is sweet and tender; it is best adapted to 
 express the sweet delight of a happy and tranquil 
 lover. The trombone is sweet and harrowing. The 
 trumpet excites frenzy and martial ardor. The violin 
 seems suited to express all the sentiments common to 
 humanity, but the viola ought to be reserved for 
 songs of a tender melancholy." The guitar is plain- 
 tive and soothing; the drum and fife are rousing and 
 warlike. Milton, the poet, philosopher, and musician 
 that he was, has given us a striking example of the
 
 jg THE NATURE OF MUSIC. 
 
 facts under consideration in his "Paradise Lost." Of 
 the fiends arrayed in martial order on the burning 
 plains of hell regions, he says: 
 
 "Anon they move 
 
 In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 
 Of flutes and soft recorders; such as raised 
 To height of noblest tempers heroes old 
 Arming to battle, and instead of rage 
 Deliberate valor breathed, firm, and unmoved 
 With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; 
 Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 
 With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase 
 Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain 
 From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, 
 Breathing united force with fixed thought, 
 Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed 
 Their painful steps over the burnt soil." 
 
 Bk. I, 549562. 
 
 The "Dorian mood" here referred to was serious 
 and grave, as the Lydian was soft and the Phrygian 
 sprightly. Manifestly the Phrygian mood would 
 have been incongruous to the place and spirit of the 
 occasion, and the poet's delicate sense of propriety 
 does not allow his pen to make such a blunder. The 
 Dorian mode was the first of the "Authentic" church 
 modes or tones. Many of the old German chorales 
 were written in this mode, such as "Vater Unser," 
 "Wir glauben Alle," "Christ unser Herr zum Jordan 
 kam," etc. For longer compositions in this mode, 
 see Orlando Lasso's 5-part motet, "Animam meam," 
 and the fugue in Bach's "Toccata." It is related that 
 Pythagoras, seeing a young man transported with 
 rage and on the point of destroying his faithless mis- 
 tress, begged a musician to play some air in the Dori- 
 an mode. Thereupon the anger and excitement of the 
 betrayed lover gave place to the most perfect calm-
 
 PHYSIOLOGICAL ELEMENT. 17 
 
 ness, and he renounced all plans of revenge. We can 
 easily imagine that when David played on his harp 
 to soothe the frenzied spirit of king Saul, he played in 
 the Dorian mode. 
 
 The foregoing facts are only a few examples of 
 musical phenomena. There are discoverable reasons 
 why the quality and spirit of music in one key differ 
 from those in another key. The effects of the several 
 keys on the mind are psychological phenomena and 
 are capable of analysis and explanation. Here is 
 open a wide and wonderfully rich field for investiga- 
 tion which when fully explored must yield valuable 
 results in various practical directions. Psychology 
 must lead the way in these investigations; psycholo- 
 gy alone can furnish the key for unlocking these hid- 
 den treasures. 
 
 From such a point of outlook and with such a 
 background to our subject, we approach the ques- 
 tion, 
 
 What is the Nature of Uusic? Two general classes of 
 views may be noted, namely, the subjective and ob- 
 jective, music as idea and music as form. But these 
 in their bare statement are of little scientific value, 
 and evidently are not sufficient; something deeper, 
 more definite, more scientific is demanded by the stu- 
 dent of to-day. 
 
 In a question of this kind the true mode of pro- 
 cedure is manifestly not dogmatic statement of 
 opinion but analysis and induction. Analysis of the 
 musical consciousness reveals the fact that our musi- 
 cal sensations are complex in their nature, bodily 
 process being blended with mental processes. 
 
 The Physiological Element. In all music there is pres- 
 ent a physiological element. Music stands partly in
 
 jg THE NATURE OF MUSIC. 
 
 sound sensation. To this corresponds the auditory 
 apparatus, external and internal ear the "harp of 
 a thousand strings," or rather, ten thousand strings. 
 External sound waves act as stimuli to the sensitive 
 auditory nerve which conveys these effects inward to 
 the brain hemispheres, where somehow the physical 
 vibrations are transformed into sensations of musical 
 sounds or of noises. So far the process has a physio- 
 logical basis. To this may be added the pleasurable 
 effect of musical notes. Pleasure in musical notes is 
 a fact of universal experience. Children, it is said, 
 have been known to manifest distinct pleasure on 
 hearing music as early as the tenth day after birth. 
 This is perhaps wholly a physiological effect, due to 
 rhythm. The baby finds delight in rhythmical noises; 
 so the savage, in the sounds produced by his rude in- 
 struments. The rhythmical movements of the feet or 
 fingers, e. g., in the act of imitating the sound of the 
 millstone, produce a pleasurable effect. To this class 
 of effects belongs the fascination of the dance, due 
 partly to auditory and partly to optical rhythm. In 
 all these cases the agreeable effect depends largely, 
 perhaps entirely, on the rhythmical succession of 
 sounds as perceived by the ear, and not on any men- 
 tal analysis of the sounds giving certain rational or 
 moral qualities, as in the case of the higher musical 
 tones, e. g., those of the piano string, organ pipe, hu- 
 man voice, etc. 
 
 The Form Theory. The Herbartian school of psychol- 
 ogy seeks to reduce all musical experience to form. 
 The formal part is the real part of music. This formal 
 part consists not of the mental product, but of the 
 elementary nature of tones as determined by the ex- 
 citement of the nerves. The charm of sound, the sen-
 
 THE FORM THEORY. 19 
 
 sation it excites in us, this, they say, constitutes the 
 essential subject matter in every piece of musical art. 
 Of course this theory grounds the musical effects of 
 sounds essentially in physiology. If it does not leave 
 the mind of the artist entirely out of consideration, it 
 at least crowds mind or the thought-factor in music 
 so far into the background as to have very little 
 value, relatively speaking. It does not sufficiently 
 recognize that ideal element which we think and shall 
 try to show later on, constitutes the deeper, the resid- 
 ual, the essentially aesthetic factor in all of the best 
 music in the world. The form theory says in sub- 
 stance that finger-music is everything and soul-music 
 is nothing. Butthecommon sense of mankind will not 
 accept this as true. The fact is that the physiological 
 element is not the whole of sound-experience; there is 
 something higher in musical sounds than mere sen- 
 suous delight. The pleasure of music is not all in the 
 ear, any more than the beauty of a landscape is all in 
 the eye. We can never explain Beethoven's ninth 
 symphony by saying that it is nothing more than 
 the excitement of our nervous system by means of 
 external sound waves. Did Haydn think that the 
 charm and beauty and power of his great master- 
 piece, the "Creation," consisted in nothing else than 
 nerve excitation? That is not what we would infer 
 from his utterance when, in the great hall of the Uni- 
 versity of Vienna where, on March 7, 1808, in the 
 presence of the author, the immortal production was 
 performed, pointing towards heaven and with tearful 
 eyes he exclaimed, "It comes from there!" Did he 
 think the music of his oratorio came from his fingers 
 or from his soul?
 
 20 THE NATURE OF MUSIC. 
 
 The Spiritual or Psychic Element. Music consists of 
 more than sense excitation; there is present a deeper 
 spiritual element, which gives it its true character. 
 
 Helmholtz says: "We have to distinguish between 
 the material ear of the body and the spiritual ear of 
 the mind." Music in its highest qualities "proceeds 
 from a spiritual source and addresses itself to the 
 'spiritual ear.' " Music is preeminently the art of the 
 intellect, though not generally so regarded. Its true 
 substance is thought, and not mere sensuous excite- 
 ment. Music is deeply rooted in the aesthetic nature 
 of the soul. "Without mental activity no aesthetic 
 enjoyment is possible," for the aesthetic emotions are 
 results of intellectual activity. The spiritual element 
 is farther evident from the presence and influence of 
 an absolute ideal in musical art. All great musical 
 artists agree that there is present in music, just as in 
 poetry, painting, sculpture, etc., an absolute ideal 
 according to which their compositions take shape. 
 Some one has said, "Music is architectural," that is, 
 it consists in a process of construction according to 
 an ideal. Music may be regarded as the expression 
 of our ideal strivings after a fuller knowledge of the 
 reality of spiritual being in nature. Musical art pre- 
 supposes the existence of a Being in whom all the 
 ideal strivings of the artist's soul after perfect beauty 
 are realized. 
 
 The spiritual element is the most important part 
 the soul of music. It is this that makes it such a 
 mighty power in the world. 
 
 As Congreve sings: 
 
 "Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, 
 To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak; 
 I've read that things inanimate have moved
 
 THE POWER OF MUSIC. 21 
 
 And, as with living souls, have been informed, 
 By magic numbers and persuasive sound." 
 
 Ancient mythology is full of references to the mar- 
 velous power of music. Apollo soothed the vigilant 
 Argus to sleep with his lyre. Orpheus, by his song 
 and the tones of his lyre tamed the fierceness of beasts, 
 moved rocks and trees, lulled to sleep Cerberus, the 
 watch dog of hell, charmed the evil spirits of Hades, 
 etc. Amphion built the walls of Thebes by the magical 
 power of his lyre. When he played the stones moved 
 and voluntarily formed themselves into walls and 
 turrets. What did the ancients mean by these myths 
 and stories? They meant the power of mind and 
 heart, expressed through musical sound, over the 
 lower orders of existence it is their way of saying 
 that thought and will-power dominate the world. 
 
 Audible sound, i. e., the outward form, is not an 
 absolute necessity of music. Beethoven, who became 
 deaf at the age of thirty, could hear only the music of 
 the heart. Though his outward ear was closed and 
 no sounds from without could invade his inner audi- 
 torium, His "spiritual ear" was wonderfully acute. 
 "What soul-music must he have heard as he wandered 
 lonely through fields and valleys, with no sound from 
 the outer world to disturb the music within!" 
 
 Says Dr. Mertz: "The great tone masters were men 
 of noble souls; they were endowed with deep emo- 
 tional natures; hence it is that their music lifts us up 
 to a higher sphere as we listen to the beatings of their 
 own hearts. ... If , then, the masters wrote from the 
 heart, if they heard much silent music within, which 
 they wrote down for us, those who aim to perform it 
 must in like manner sing and play with the best 
 powers of their hearts and minds. . . . Every student
 
 22 THE NATURE OF MUSIC. 
 
 should aim at this power of reproducing the true 
 heart music as it lies hidden in the notes. . . Music has 
 a higher mission than merely to please the ear. It is 
 the art which appeals most powerfully to the heart, 
 and through this affects our characters. The idea 
 that music has no higher influences than simply to 
 produce, for the time being, pleasant sensations, has 
 done much harm to the progress of the art, in schools 
 as among the people, for it has caused many thinking 
 men to regard music with a degree of suspicion. 
 We must aim to be intelligent students; we must 
 strive to see more in music than mere pleasurable 
 sensations; we should study it as an art, hence we 
 must become artists; that is, we must be imbued with 
 the highest love for and the best understanding of 
 what we study. To make it a refining, elevating 
 medium, we must not merely be players and singers, 
 but also art students; we must strive to become 
 thinking as well as feeling musicians." 
 
 All these remarks powerfully emphasize the intel- 
 lectual and spiritual element in music. Music, that is, 
 in outward form, is the natural language through 
 which the thoughts and feelings of the soul express 
 themselves. Language has value only as it serves to 
 express ideas. Music is a universal language, the lan- 
 guage of the brotherhood of mankind. It is the only 
 language which all souls can understand, even though 
 their tongues differ, it is the true world-language. 
 Through this medium soul holds fellowship with soul 
 the world over. Music expresses more than words; in 
 fact, where words fail, the full meaning of music only 
 begins. Says Wagner: "The tone-language is the 
 beginning and the end of the intellect, just as the
 
 MUSIC FIRST A CONCEPTION. 23 
 
 myth is the beginning and the end of history, and the 
 lyre the beginning and end of poetry." 
 
 "That would indeed be a small art that gives us 
 only sounds and no language, no expressions for the 
 conditions of the soul" (Schumann). 
 
 The best music creates the necessity for mental ac- 
 tivity, because music in its right conception is essen- 
 tially an interpretation of the mind's ideas, emo- 
 tions, and volitions. "The works of Beethoven are 
 the stored-up result of all the individual heart-beats, 
 all the individual acts of memory, all the glorious 
 pangs of feeling, all the efforts of rational will, which 
 passed through the consciousness of Beethoven in the 
 course of his life." Music tells us far more than the 
 heart can take in, hence the art is inexhaustible; the 
 deeper we study, the more music reveals to us. A 
 grand musical composition expresses the composer's 
 inner life far better than could the best biography. 
 Through his works we are made partakers of his 
 greatest joys and deepest sorrows, and on the pinions 
 of his inspirations we rise to heights we never reached 
 before. 
 
 Music is ffrst a Conception. The preceding reflections 
 have led up to the conclusion that music is first and 
 in its deepest root a conception of the soul, a move- 
 ment of the spirit. The formal part of music is there- 
 fore secondary; it has to do with expression and is 
 largely mechanical, just as language has for its office 
 the expression of ideas through outward symbols. As 
 there must be a root before there can be development 
 into trunk, branches, leaves and fruit, so there must 
 be an ideal conception before there can be an outward 
 form of musical composition. A musical product is 
 not essentially different from any other art product.
 
 24 THE NATURE OF MUSIC. 
 
 The painter, for example, has first an ideal conception 
 of his masterpiece and then he proceeds to express 
 that conception in outward form; so also the sculp- 
 tor, the architect, the poet. Music does not start in 
 the finger tips and make its way up into the brain; it 
 starts in the soul and flows down and out through 
 the fingers. All this means that the intellectual or 
 conceptual element in music should receive the first 
 and greatest amount of attention on the part of the 
 student. As music is primarily a product of mental 
 activity, its phenomena belong to the realm of psy- 
 chology and psychology must give laws and principles 
 for the study of music. 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Design of this chapter? 
 
 2. How account for the little progress hitherto made in our 
 subject? 
 
 3. What is said about musical phenomena? 
 
 4. Name facts about the several keys. 
 
 5. Name facts about the various musical instruments. 
 
 6. Describe nature of the "Dorian mood." What has been 
 made of it? 
 
 7. Are these phenomena explicable, and how? 
 
 8. Two general views about the nature of music? 
 
 9. Explain the physiological element in the musical conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 10. How early in childhood does musical perception begin? 
 
 11. What is said of rhythm in this connection? 
 
 12. Explain the Herbartian form theory. 
 
 13. What objections to this theory? 
 
 14. Incident about the rendition of Haydn's "Creation " and 
 what does it teach?
 
 QUESTIONS. 25 
 
 15. What ie said of the spiritual element in music? 
 
 16. Give Helmholt'z remark about the "spiritual ear." 
 
 17. What is the ideal in music? 
 
 18. Examples from Mythology, illustrating the power of music. 
 
 19. What was the meaning of the ancients in these myths? 
 
 20. What says Dr. Mertz about the great tone masters? 
 
 21. What of music as a language? 
 
 22. Show that the thought element in music is of primary im- 
 portance. 
 
 23. Explain statement that music is first a conception. 
 
 24. What conclusion follows from these considerations?
 
 26 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL CHARACTER OF MUSIC STUDY. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 The Psychological Character of Music Study. 
 
 AT the close of the preceding chapter we said that 
 psychology must give laws and principles for the 
 study of music. This is a very significant state- 
 ment, and claims our further attention in the present 
 chapter. If music in its root idea is a matter of 
 thought, that is, if it is first a conception of the soul, 
 then it follows that the study of music has to do pri- 
 marily with the operations of the soul. Hence music 
 study must begin with the study of mind. All foun- 
 dational work, for example, in piano study, resolves 
 itself essentially into an analysis of those initial men- 
 tal states which give rise to the various finger move- 
 ments in technique as well as to the higher things of 
 expression and interpretation. If the history of a 
 given piece of music from its origin in the mind of the 
 composer through all its stages of elaboration to its 
 execution and interpretation by some master artist 
 could be fully written, we should find that such a his- 
 tory is simply a series of correlated mental processes. 
 In matters of technique it is an observed fact that ac- 
 curate and rapid finger movements can be acquired 
 best by focusing the attention upon the position and 
 condition of the different organs concerned. It is in 
 reality the brain that plays, and not the fingers sim- 
 ply. The rapid and intricate finger movements of 
 the skilful virtuoso are nothing else than brain action 
 originated and directed by thought, and rendered
 
 EXPRESSION AND MIND. 2? 
 
 automatic by habit. The study of technique is thus 
 fundamentally a study of brain and of thought pro- 
 cesses. Consequently, if our methods of studying and 
 teaching the piano are to be rational and normal, 
 they must begin with the study of mind. 
 
 Again, expression in playing is manifestly only the 
 outward sensuous side of an inward mental concep- 
 tion. Before there can be any expression, there must 
 be a certain state of thought and emotion to express 
 or force into outward form. The conditions for a 
 full, free, and adequate expression are all determined 
 primarily by mental states. If a player is master of 
 his mental states, he will acquire an easy mastery of 
 his favorite instrument, so that it will yield up at his 
 command and give forth in perfect tones the elements 
 of beauty and power contained in his lovely tone- 
 conceptions. If expression means the giving forth of 
 the spirit of music, as opposed to the mere mechan- 
 ical production of sound, it must rest upon the laws 
 of mind as foundation. Consequently, the teaching 
 of expression must be preceded by a mastery of the 
 principles of mind and of the processes of mental ac- 
 tion. Those subtle elements in a musical perform- 
 ance which make possible a clear and effective presen- 
 tation of the emotional and intellectual content of a 
 work, can be mastered only by a practical acquaint- 
 ance with the operations of thought. "For what man 
 knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man 
 which is in him?" It requires the exercise of mind 
 to grasp and present correctly, what mind has con- 
 ceived. 
 
 So also, when we proceed to the highest function of 
 musical art, namely, interpretation, we find that the 
 same principles obtain. Interpretation deals with the
 
 28 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL CHARACTER OF MUSIC STUDY. 
 
 thought content of a musical composition. The 
 office of the interpreter is to represent in tone and 
 action the meaning of the composer,to reproduce 
 the beautiful tone-imagery which occupied the 
 mind of the composer at the time when the piece 
 was written. From a thorough study of the na- 
 ture and meaning of a work the interpreter must 
 first form a correct mind-picture of it, and then 
 by means of tones set forth that picture to the appre- 
 hension of the listener. From all this we can see how 
 much interpretation has to do with mind. The study 
 of interpretation is a study of mind. How any one 
 can teach interpretation without constant reference 
 to the laws of thought under which the compositions 
 he deals with took organic form, is hard to under- 
 stand. If I am asked to explain the meaning of a 
 rose, I know no better way to proceed than to ana- 
 lyze the rose, and by a careful study of the elements 
 which I find, build up an intelligent conception of the 
 organic processes by which the rose grew into its 
 given form. Or, if I undertake to explain a master- 
 piece of poetry or oratory, I must set forth the way 
 in which the masterpiece was produced. In each case 
 the process involved is essentially psychological; 
 thought is the great thing needful, and without 
 thought but little progress can be made. Perhaps, in 
 very rare cases, a musician may grasp the meaning 
 of a piece intuitively, that is, immediately, without 
 the conscious and laborious processes of analysis and 
 synthesis; but surely this is the exception, and only 
 serves to prove the rule. The rule among common 
 people is that the meaning of a composition must be 
 mastered by study. The learner must thread his way 
 back from the finished product to its inception in the
 
 INTERPRETATION AND MIND. 29 
 
 composer's mind in the same line along which the 
 writer proceeded in the making of the piece. When in 
 this way the player is able to put himself into the 
 composer's view-point and see the piece as the author 
 saw it, he 1 is in a condition to interpret correctly. It 
 matters little how great technical skill he may pos- 
 sess, or how perfect control he may have of himself, 
 or how thoroughly he may understand his instru- 
 ment, he cannot interpret correctly unless he has mas- 
 tered the composer's thought. The art of interpreta- 
 tion is but another name for the art of thinking. 
 How preposterous for a beginner, who has not yet 
 learned the art of thinking, to undertake to interpret 
 the compositions of Beethoven or Bach! How much 
 better and how much more sensible it would be if the 
 beginner had the humility and patience to confine 
 himself to the rudiments of technique and to the 
 study of muscles and nerves and mind, before he 
 dares even to lift his eyes unto the heaven of expres- 
 sion and interpretation! 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. With what must music study begin? 
 
 2. What influence has mind on accuracy and rapidity of finger 
 movements? 
 
 3. How is the study of technique a study of mind? 
 
 4. What is the relation of musical expression to mental states? 
 
 5. Why is the study of mind necessary for musical interpreta- 
 tion? 
 
 6. How explain a rose or masterpiece of literature? 
 
 7. To what should the beginner confine himself, and why?
 
 30 THE MUSICAL FACULTY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Musical Faculty. 
 
 TT is important to have a right conception of a 
 I mental faculty. Erroneous views formerly held in 
 
 regard to the nature of the mental faculties have 
 given rise to mischievous psychological doctrines, the 
 influence of which still lingers. Faculties were con- 
 sidered as integral parts of one whole soul, as, e. g., 
 the different rooms in a house; the parts of a watch 
 or steam engine; the keys, pipes, etc., of an organ; the 
 various departments of the body-politic. Faculties 
 have also been regarded as separate and distinct or- 
 gans of a mental organism, as, e. g., the organs of 
 the human body, such as the heart, lungs, stomach, 
 brain, etc., each being a complete machine, as it were, 
 within a machine. Then, too, faculties have been 
 spoken of as distinct agents within us, which have 
 their respective provinces and authority, which com- 
 mand, obey, and perform various acts, as so many 
 separate beings. 
 
 These views are all erroneous and prejudicial to the 
 progress of psychological science. Even as illustra- 
 tions they serve a vicious purpose. We must frame 
 our definition of a mental faculty upon the basis of 
 the absolute unity and indivisibility of the soul. 
 When we classify, for purposes of study and descrip- 
 tion, the various operations of the mind and assign 
 these operations to different powers, we are not to 
 suppose that we can divide the mind into different com-
 
 FACULTY A MODE OF EXERCISE. 31 
 
 partments, like so many pigeon-holes in a secretary's 
 letter case. No division of the soul itself is possible, 
 either in essence or in energy. In all mental opera- 
 tions the acting agent is one and the same, and the 
 energy is likewise one and indivisible. When we re- 
 member, or judge, or feel, or will, the whole soul acts, 
 and not a particular part or so-called organ of the 
 soul. 
 
 By mental faculty we mean a particular mode of 
 the soul's activity. The human hand may serve for 
 illustration. With the same hand I can paint a pic- 
 ture, chisel a statue, write a letter, perform a surgical 
 operation, read a page of raised type, hold conversa- 
 tion with a deaf-mute, play the piano or organ, and 
 perform a thousand other offices. In all these opera- 
 tions, it is one and the same hand and the wholeh&nd 
 that acts. So we are to represent to ourselves the so- 
 called faculties of the soul they are modes of exercise, 
 forms of mental activity, definite ways in which the 
 soul puts forth its energy. Therefore, when we ana- 
 lyze and classify mental phenomena and faculties, we 
 analyze and classify modes of mental activity. In our 
 sense of the word, faculties are simple or complex, 
 primary or secondary, according to the nature of the 
 mental exercise in question. From our standpoint we 
 may speak also of a musical faculty, meaning thereby 
 that mode of the soul's activity which manifests itself 
 in musical conceptions and perceptions, musical 
 ideals, musical emotions, etc. The musical faculty is 
 complex in its nature, involving intellectual, moral, 
 and aesthetic elements, the aesthetic decidedly pre- 
 dominating. 
 
 The Musical Faculty Universal. A question of practical 
 interest arises, namely, Is every soul endowed with
 
 32 THE MUSICAL FACULTY. 
 
 the musical faculty? Has everybody capacity for 
 music and can anyone learn music? The idea quite 
 extensively prevails that musical gifts are the exclu- 
 sive possession of a highly favored class of people 
 called geniuses. Only the musical genius can learn 
 music; or rather, music is not something to be learned 
 at all as other things must be learned, but it is a direct 
 gift from the Creator to the genius, and he who is not 
 such a genius can never hope to become a musician. 
 This idea belongs to the shadowy mysticism of the 
 middle ages, and its lingering presence in our time has 
 been a great barrier in the way of progress in musical 
 science and art. It is a vain delusion which a little 
 knowledge of psychology can easily dispel. 
 
 There is such a thing as genius which marks a broad 
 distinction between individuals. The Latin word 
 genius signifies the divine nature which is innate in 
 all human beings. Webster defines genius as "that 
 peculiar structure of mind with which each individual 
 is endowed, but especially mental superiority and un- 
 common intellectual power." The man of genius is 
 one who is endowed with unusual mental powers. It 
 is a matter of common observation that mental gifts 
 vary greatly, but where the sphere of the common 
 order of mind ends and that of the genius begins no 
 one can determine, for there is in nature no such divid- 
 ing line. There are some rarely gifted spirits that live 
 and move in the high-peak regions and look down 
 upon the world from "inspiration point" ; a much 
 larger number live in middle altitudes, while the great 
 mass of workers belong to the lower plains of life. 
 To the first class belong such men as Homer, Plato, 
 Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare, Beethoven, etc. Like the 
 high mountain peaks of earth, they are few in number,
 
 GENIUS AND TALENT. 33 
 
 and far apart in time. No one needs to be told which 
 is Pike's Peak or the Matterhorn among other neigh- 
 boring peaks, for these giants bear the testimony of 
 their grandeur in their own appearance ; so the lofty 
 spirits of history need no title to speak their claim to 
 eminence, for they have in themselves the unmistaka- 
 ble marks of their transcendent greatness. These are 
 geniuses in the true sense. 
 
 In the lower and degraded sense, a genius is one who 
 dabbles in everything but does nothing well. If a 
 young man be able only to play a few tunes upon 
 each of the several horns of a brass band, immediately 
 he is called a genius. There is much point in Josli 
 Billings' quaint definition, "A genius is a person who 
 thinks he knows everything, but who in reality knows 
 nothing, except how to spill 'vittles' on his clothes." 
 Such genius substitutes imaginary gifts for true merit 
 and for hard work. It is, alas! too common a pro- 
 duct of our age. The musical world is not without 
 numerous examples. 
 
 Genius stands in antithesis to talent, though often 
 mistaken one for the other. Genius is creative; 
 talent is imitative, and inasmuch as men rarely be- 
 come great by imitating others, men of talent seldom 
 acquire universal fame. Genius makes its own laws, 
 is, in fact, a law unto itself; it boldly oversteps 
 those rules which minds of lower order slavishly ob- 
 serve ; talent follows in the steps of genius and pa- 
 tiently submits to those rules which genius dictates. 
 Talent learns art-rules from books; genius reads them 
 within herself. "Talent is a bird fastened to a string; 
 genius is the bird unfettered." Genius in a certain 
 sense is beyond criticism. The immortal bards, musi- 
 cians, painters, sculptors, etc., are kings in the realm 
 
 Ptvchology. *
 
 - 4 THE MUSICAL FACULTY. 
 
 of art by a kind of "divine right," and they wield 
 their scepters in serene heights above the storms of 
 conflicting opinions, selfishness and bigotry which rage 
 on the middle and lower slopes. Genius dares to do 
 things for which talent would be severely criticised. 
 It is related that Beethoven was once approached by 
 a young man with the request that he should examine 
 one of the young student's compositions. The mas- 
 ter made a few corrections, but he was soon reminded 
 of the fact that he himself in like manner had over- 
 stepped the rules. Beethoven smiled and said, "I 
 may do so, but you dare not." 
 
 Genius is the highest order of endowment. "The 
 average man can never produce those works of art 
 which genius produces, no matter how he applies him- 
 self, or who teaches him. Lacking, as he does, that 
 high degree of sensibility which distinguishes genius, 
 he fails to receive those impressions which genius 
 alone can receive; how, then, can he give expression to 
 the lofty inspirations of the man of genius?" When 
 genius conceives a work of art, he does not take pencil 
 in hand and say, Now I will write a grand symphony, 
 nor does he prepare colors and say, Now I will paint 
 a Madonna. True genius is not so self-conscious; he 
 knows but faintly his own methods by which he works. 
 In every great masterpiece of genius there is some- 
 thing inexplicable, something that does not yield to 
 analysis, something mysterious. We may get nearer 
 and nearer to the secret, but we are never quite able 
 to lay our hand on it; in the last analysis it is insep- 
 arable from the artist's personality, which is a thing 
 primary and not resolvable into elements. There is 
 in highest art something that cometh not by obser- 
 vation: this sacred and inscrutable something is what
 
 TRUE GENIUS PROPHETIC. 35 
 
 true genius gives us in a great work of art and what 
 distinguishes it from a common production. 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes classifies intellects thus: 
 "One-story intellects, two-story intellects, tbree-atory 
 intellects. All fact collectors, who have no aim be- 
 yond their facts, are one-story men. Two-story men 
 compare, reason, generalize, using the labors of the 
 fact collectors as well as their own. Three-story men 
 idealize, imagine, predict; their best illuminations 
 come from above, through the skylight. They are 
 the men of genius." 
 
 Genius lives in a world of its own, a world into 
 which the average man can never hope to enter. 
 Genius is always in advance of the times and sees with 
 prophetic eye the best things of distant ages. It is 
 the lofty mountain peak which first catches the rays 
 of the rising sun, while yet darkness and deep shadows 
 rest in the valley below where the common people 
 dwell. As the eagle soars aloft toward the source of 
 light, while the little birds nestle in the hedges near 
 the ground, so genius in the flights of its imagination 
 lives in regions above the common plains. "And as 
 little as the bare eye can count the strokes of the 
 eagle's wings when it appears only as a mere speck 
 before the clouds, so little can the average man count 
 and comprehend the beatings of the wild-throbbing 
 heart of genius" (Mertz). 
 
 These remarks about genius truthfully represent 
 the facts in the case as we see them in the various de- 
 partments of the art world. Genius is no fiction, but 
 a sublime reality to which the wise man will gladly 
 show deference and reverence. With these facts before 
 us we come back to our question,
 
 3 6 THE MUSICAL FACULTY. 
 
 /s the Musical Faculty Universal? Can anybody be a 
 musician? Not everyone can become a great musi- 
 cian; not everyone can be a genius in musical art. 
 No; that implies a rare combination of qualities, an 
 extraordinary degree of endowment which the Creator 
 for wise reasons has bestowed only upon few of the 
 sons and daughters of earth. There are only few 
 great mathematicians, astronomers, poets, painters, 
 architects, orators, musicians. The Beethovens, 
 Handels, Mozarts, Haydns, Mendelssohns, Liszts, 
 Bachs are very rare. To such a high degree of excel- 
 lence, not everyone may hope to attain. 
 
 While not all men are geniuses and have their 
 spheres marked out in the sublime heights, yet all 
 have God-given gifts, in higher or lower degree. We 
 may not have ten talents, nor five; it may be we 
 have only one; still it is a talent given us by our 
 Creator, and it is our duty to improve that one talent 
 to the best of our opportunity and ability. Our gift 
 is capable of cultivation and should receive our 
 earnest and conscientious attention; we must not, 
 like the unfaithful servant, go and bury our talent in 
 the earth. There are many who compose music, 
 paint pictures, carve out statues, make verses, but 
 do not produce such gems of art as those that come 
 out of the workshop of genius; yet the work of these 
 amateurs and men of talent is not to be despised be- 
 cause it is inferior to that of the highest genius, for 
 it occupies an important place in the temple of art 
 and deserves honorable mention in the history of 
 art products. 
 
 Yes; doubting soul, whoever you may be, you have 
 the musical faculty, you may learn music, you may 
 achieve commendable success in the line of your
 
 THE MUSICAL FACULTY UNIVERSAL. 37 
 
 desires. Application will tell the story, earnest work 
 will decide your capability in music just as in every- 
 thing else. Faithful work is the measure of success. 
 Even men of genius have always been hard workers, 
 diligent students. Be not deceived; genius is never a 
 substitute for labor. There is no excellence without 
 labor. If you do not belong to the class of geniuses, 
 you are a fellow being, a brother, a sister of these 
 great men, and this thought should encourage and 
 inspire you. You have the same kind of faculties, the 
 same modes of mental activity as the rest of man- 
 kind. Every rational soul has by creation the same 
 faculties, however they may differ in their degree of 
 development and efficiency. 
 
 1 know this statement is contrary to the tradition- 
 al idea and to the popular notion about the 
 matter, but I am persuaded that it rests on 
 a sound psychologic foundation. Every normal 
 human soul has capacity for learning arithmetic, 
 history, languages, science, literature, the arts, 
 business, stenography, banking, locomotive en- 
 gineering, type-setting, house-building, stone cut- 
 ting, etc., etc.; but not everyone may be a master in 
 each of these lines. So each and every soul has 
 capacity for appreciating and learning music. In a 
 public address, W. H. Cummings, principal of the 
 Guildhall School of Music, London, said: "Not all 
 people can be great musicians, but children are born 
 with the musical faculty as well as with pairs of eyes 
 and legs. . . If children are not taught to make good 
 use of the faculties which God has given them, it is 
 not a very wonderful thing that these same faculties, 
 instead of improving, should become almost non-ex- 
 istent. . . All may become excellent and discriminat-
 
 THE MUSICAL FACULTY. 
 
 ing listeners, and distinguish what is good and what 
 is worthless. No one can tell whether a child may 
 not turn out a Mozart, a Paderewski, an Albani, a 
 Sims Reeves, or what not, unless its faculties are cul- 
 tivated; and it is the duty of parents to give their 
 children the highest possible education through good 
 instructors, remembering that nothing is of any value 
 unless it is studied with a really earnest purpose." 
 
 The musical faculty is not an exclusive gift of the 
 favored few. Let the mischievous delusion that has 
 so long held sway be dispelled once for all. Musical 
 science and musical art rest on the same psychologic 
 basis as everything else that may be learned. Not a 
 vague mystical theory, but solid experimental facts 
 of mind must decide the question. To this idea peda- 
 gogical theory in all branches of instruction is grad- 
 ually adjusting itself; from this foundation musical 
 education in our day has found new points of depart- 
 ure. As we come to understand the psychological 
 facts in the case we introduce musical instruction in 
 the common schools in an exact parallel with instruc- 
 tion in arithmetic, geography, history, language 
 study, etc.; we teach children the rudiments of music 
 just as we teach them the rudiments of other subjects, 
 and do not once inquire whether or not any of them 
 have been destined to the high realm of musical ge- 
 nius. As they have ears and eyes and voices and fin- 
 gers and minds, we take it for granted that they can 
 learn music just as they learn anything else. 
 
 Who Shall Devote Himself to Music? Not those who 
 can't and won't study anything else, not those who 
 are lazy and inflated with a false notion of genius, 
 not those who are good for nothing in other things. 
 Who shall study law, or medicine, or civil engineer-
 
 QUESTIONS. 39 
 
 ing? Surely not the idiot, but those who have the 
 finest endowments, the most enthusiastic love for 
 study, the indomitable will, unflagging perseverance, 
 sound mind and sound nerves. So, whoever has these 
 general prerequisites may devote himself to music 
 with a fair show of success. 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. State wrong conceptions of a mental faculty. 
 
 2. Give definition of faculty and illustrate. 
 
 3. Meaning of musical faculty. 
 
 4. What question of practical interest arises? 
 
 5. What erroneous view about musical genius? 
 
 6. What is meant by genius? Give examples. 
 
 7. What is said of genius in a degraded sense? 
 
 8. Explain antithesis of genius and talent. 
 
 9. Relate incident about Beethoven, and what does it 
 illustrate? 
 
 10. Give substance of quotation from Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 11. Why the foregoing remarks about genius? 
 
 12. Can anyone become a musician? 
 
 13. Is the musical faculty universal? Explain precisely the 
 author's standpoint. 
 
 14. Give substance of Mr. Cummings' remarks. 
 
 1 5. Point out some signs of the times in relation to the musical 
 faculty. 
 
 16. What must finally decide our question? 
 
 17. Who should devote himself to music?
 
 CONCEPT-MASS AND PSYCHIC LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Concept-M*ss and Psychic Life. 
 
 X-SONCEPTS are ideas formed in the mind from sense- 
 ( impressions by thinking, reflecting, reasoning, 
 ^-* etc. Soul-life is concept-life. The stream of con- 
 sciousness at any moment of our existence consists of 
 concepts, and without concepts there is no conscious- 
 ness. By means of the several sense-channels a great 
 variety of impressions from the outer world is brought 
 into the mind as material from which to form ideas. 
 When we think of all the objects that pass before the 
 open eye in the course of a day, a year, a life-time; of 
 all the sounds that stream into the ear; of all the 
 odors and tastes that come in contact with their 
 appropriate nerves; of all the tactile impacts that 
 occur over the entire area of the sensitive skin; and 
 when we remember that each one of these innumer- 
 able nerve-excitations leaves its impression in the 
 respective centres to be called up at any moment into 
 a distinct concept in the process of conscious thought, 
 we begin to realize how vast and how varied in the 
 average life is the store of material for concepts. 
 
 The individual concepts starting from sense percep- 
 tions, do not stand in isolation, but each one is re- 
 lated directly to others of the same group, and indi- 
 rectly to all the rest. No single concept either does 
 or can stand alone, just as no single sense-impression 
 can be disconnected from others. The concepts con- 
 stitute a numerous family, between each member of
 
 MODIFICATION OF CONCEPTS. 41 
 
 which there is a natural bond of connection. This is 
 the second great fact that comes to view in our study 
 of psychic life. A third fact immediately follows, 
 namely, that every related concept modifies, and in 
 turn, is modified, by its correlative concepts. To 
 this related and reciprocally modifying body of con- 
 cepts the name concept-mass is given, a name very 
 popular among German psychologists, especially 
 those of the Herbartian school. It means the sum 
 total of all the concepts, conscious and subconscious, 
 in their correlated condition, that a soul at any stage 
 of its existence possesses. The word mass in the 
 compound denotes more than simply a great num- 
 ber, a promiscuous collection; it denotes also the 
 relationship between the individual members of the 
 collection. 
 
 Perhaps, at no moment in the history of a soul can 
 it be said that its life consists in one single and un- 
 modified concept, soul-life consists always in a con- 
 cept-mass. Pure, that is, unmixed, sensations and 
 concepts have no existence in reality. Sensations 
 and concepts as psychic phenomena never appear in 
 their primitive isolated character, but always in their 
 apperceived, i. e., modified state. Soul-life from the 
 beginning is a complex life and all its phenomena are 
 complex. Practically psychology has to do with con- 
 cept-mass. The interrelations of ideas and the mutual 
 modifications which ideas undergo when coming in 
 contact with other ideas, are a subject exceedingly 
 interesting and instructive, and, from an educational 
 point of view, highly important. Many great prob- 
 lems of psychic life here take their rise and find their 
 solution. If at any moment we have a certain concept- 
 mass, with such and such consistent ideas, making
 
 42 CONCEPT-MASS AND PSYCHIC LIFE. 
 
 up a particular aggregate experience, what effects will 
 be produced if now new ideas come in? 
 
 In general, the old will modify the new, and the new 
 in turn will modify the old, but not in the same 
 degree. The old ideas, other things equal, are far 
 more powerful than the new, because they are firmly 
 established, rooted, as it were, in a coherent concept- 
 mass, while the new ones come in as individuals, not 
 yet fortified by a network of relationships. The new- 
 entering concept on first thought appears to have the 
 advantage, in that, on account of its novelty, it gains 
 greater attention, especially if it is a sense-percep- 
 tion, whereas the older concept-mass needs time in 
 which to assert itself; but the fact is different. The 
 older concepts, on account of their many-sided con- 
 nections in the web of concept-series, are able to 
 attract to themselves more and more assisting con- 
 cepts, and so finally assimilate and absorb the newer. 
 
 Many important educational consequences flow 
 from these primary facts of psychic life. The process 
 of gaining knowledge implies more than simply bring- 
 ing new facts into the mental storehouse; gaining 
 knowledge is a process of assimilation of new ideas in 
 a growing concept-mass. This implies that the suc- 
 cessive items of instruction to be worth anything, to 
 be of real value in soul culture, must be brought into 
 their normal thought-relations in the mind of the 
 pupil. To do this it is necessary for the teacher to 
 study the individual lives of his pupils, find out the 
 exact state of their concept-life, their needs; then he 
 must adapt his instruction to the case in hand. The 
 hit-or-miss way of giving instruction is psychologi- 
 cally wrong and does not accomplish its end, besides 
 being an injury to the pupil. The intelligent teacher
 
 APPLIED TO EDUCATION. 43 
 
 will manage to get acquainted with the inner life of 
 the pupils, will try to look out at things from their 
 point of view, find out their prejudices, their likes and 
 dislikes, their native reactive tendencies; then he will 
 suit his instruction to the needs of the case, he will 
 put each new fact into its right relation with other 
 facts already there, he will seek to coordinate and or- 
 ganize the items of knowledge in the pupil's mind, 
 just as the forces of nature organize the mineral ele- 
 ments in the growth of a vegetable or animal body; 
 like the maker of mosaics, he will select and shape 
 and polish each minutest block with special reference 
 to the place it is to occupy, he will bring each sepa- 
 rate piece into right relation with others in respect 
 to form and color, and thus the process will go on 
 until the picture is finished, a thing of beauty and a 
 joy forever. In this way the new facts that come into 
 the pupil's experience will have an advantage from 
 the start, and so may reasonably be expected to bear 
 good fruit; otherwise they would lie loose, so to 
 speak, in the mind, as seeds cast upon the surface of 
 the ground. 
 
 If the older concepts are wrong or defective, as will 
 likely be the case with the untrained pupil, it is the 
 business of education to correct or improve these. 
 Our psychology suggests a rational way of doing 
 this. The older concepts already in the concept-mass 
 absorb the newer, but in doing so they are them- 
 selves modified; the newer in being absorbed yield 
 something of permanent value to the growing mass. 
 Hence the importance of conveying only such ideas 
 as are full of life and vigor; the more strength they 
 have, the greater will be their power to modify the 
 old and faulty ones. We know how deeply rooted old
 
 44 CONCEPT-MASS AND PSYCHIC LIFE. 
 
 prejudices and wrong notions are, and how difficult it 
 is to remove or modify them. It is always dangerous 
 to tear out as by force any given erroneous ideas in a 
 person's concept-mass, and the reason is not far to 
 seek. The wise teacher will therefore use other meth- 
 ods to accomplish his purpose. The parable of the 
 tares suggests an interesting application of our prin- 
 ciple. In reply to the disciples' question, whether 
 they should go and remove the tares, the Savior 
 said: "Nay; lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root 
 up also the wheat with them." At the foundation of 
 this utterance lies our principle of apperception, as it 
 has been called by some. If the Great Teacher recog- 
 nized this principle of mind in dealing with error 
 among men, so also should every other teacher. 
 
 Upon this doctrine of apperception, as we have un- 
 folded it above, rest the facts of association, memory, 
 etc. The laws of habit are also grounded in it. In- 
 deed, almost every psychological and educational 
 principle rests on this doctrine concerning concept- 
 mass. The study of psychic life in whatever form 
 cannot proceed intelligently without reference to it at 
 every step. In moral and religious training it is of 
 vital importance. In the light of this principle is 
 seen the wisdom of prepossessing the mind of youth 
 with a body of sound moral principles and religious 
 teachings. Hence the value of teaching children from 
 their earliest days Bible passages, sacred hymns, pa- 
 triotic sayings, useful maxims, sound principles, etc.; 
 these make up a permanent and solid concept-mass 
 in which character shall take root and grow. Hence 
 also the wisdom of putting the better class of music 
 into the hands of beginners, of implanting true art 
 principles as early as possible. If these beautiful and
 
 TRUE ART PRINCIPLES. 45 
 
 useful plants can be made to grow and get a good 
 start in the minds of the young, they will gradually 
 absorb and render harmless many a noxious weed 
 that may come into the soil later on. Let the pure 
 love of art send its roots deep down and all through 
 the child's concept-mass, then there will be a good 
 foundation for a right artistic education, then will 
 the unfolding soul-life be rich and interesting and 
 beautiful. In the light of this principle, it makes 
 much difference what kind of pictures we view and 
 admire, what music we hear, what scenery we look 
 upon, what ideals we cherish, what companions we 
 associate with, what operas and theaters we patron- 
 ize, what literature we read, what songs we love, in 
 short, what new concepts in any way come into our 
 minds to take their place in our permanent concept- 
 mass. In this our character stands rooted, from this 
 the stream of consciousness is supplied with ideas, iu 
 this consists our practical soul-life. 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Define concepts. 
 
 2. Whence arise concepts? 
 
 3. What is said of the relations of concepts? 
 
 4. Fact about the modification of concepts? 
 
 5. What is meant by concept-mass? 
 
 6. In what does soul-life consist, and what is its nature? 
 
 7. State the law of modification of concepts. 
 
 8. Why are the older concepts stronger than the newer? 
 
 9. Of what value in education is the doctrine of concept-mass? 
 
 10. What is implied in the process of gaming knowledge? 
 
 11. What pedagogical application of our principle is named?
 
 46 CONCEPT-MASS AND PSYCHIC LIFE. 
 
 12. How is teaching like making mosaic pictures? 
 
 13. By what method is a faulty concept-mass to be corrected, 
 and why? 
 
 14. Illustrate by reference to the parable of the tares. 
 
 15. By what othername is the doctrine of Concept-mass known? 
 
 16. What other great facts rest on the doctrine of apperception? 
 
 17. Show its importance in moral and religious training. 
 
 18. What of its value in art education? 
 
 19. Its value in general psychic life?
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 Means of Musical Expression. 
 
 T T TTE have said that music is first a conception of 
 V Y/ the mind and afterwards an expression in 
 W sound, first ideal, and afterwards formal. 
 Expression means literally pressing out, that is, giv- 
 ing objective form to subjective ideas. In technical 
 sense, expression means a lively or vivid representa- 
 tion of meaning, sentiment, or feeling; significant and 
 impressive indication, whether by language, appear- 
 ance, or gesture; that manner or style which gives 
 life and suggestive force to ideas and sentiments. In 
 music, according to Stainer and Barret, it means the 
 power or act of rendering music so as to make it the 
 vehicle of deep and pure emotion; the spirit of music 
 as opposed to the mere mechanical production of 
 sound. In rendering works of a higher class, a true 
 expression involves the merging of the artist's per- 
 sonality in an enthusiastic effort to carry out to the 
 highest extent the fullest meaning of the composer. 
 In whatever sense used, expression means fundament- 
 ally the act of giving outward form to mental con- 
 ceptions. 
 
 Music as a language employs certain symbols, such 
 as lines, spaces, clefs, notes, rests, bars, accent marks, 
 etc., by the use of which the soul's ideas and emotions 
 are translated into sensuous forms. Our present in- 
 quiry is, What are the means by which this expres- 
 sion of the soul's conceptions is effected and by which
 
 4 g MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 the soul gains experience of the sounds and symbols 
 employed in music? To serve as a medium of com- 
 munication between the inner and the outer worlds 
 the Creator has given us a nervous system, suited to 
 the offices it is intended to perform. 
 
 The Nervous System. The nervous system is the mys- 
 tic borderland between the realms of the spiritual 
 soul and the physical universe. What strange mes- 
 sages pass back and forth over this dim borderland 
 region! Jacob, in his beautiful vision, saw angels 
 ascending and descending and from the top of the 
 ladder he heard communications from the Lord. 
 What the ladder was in the patriarch's dream, the 
 nervous system is in our psychic life, namely, the 
 medium of communication between the spiritual and 
 the material. Through the nervous system the vari- 
 ous phenomena of the outer world find an inlet to 
 the soul, and the ideas, emotions and volitions of the 
 soul have an outlet into the physical world. 
 
 The nervous system is a wonderful mechanism, 
 whether viewed in regard to the construction and 
 adaptation of its several parts, the delicacy of its re- 
 actions, or the perfection and variety of its offices. 
 
 The Cerebro -Spinal Axis. The nervous system con- 
 sists of two main parts, the cerehro-spinal axis and 
 the sympathetic or ganglionic system. The cerebro- 
 spinal axis is divided into the brain, the spinal cord, 
 and the nerves. Foremost in importance is the brain, 
 a large mass of nervous matter which fills the cavity 
 of the skull, with an average weight of about 49 
 ounces, the maximum being 64 and the minimum 20, 
 ounces. It is divided vertically into two lobes or 
 hemispheres by means of a medial septum of white 
 fibrous matter, which in the center and lower parts
 
 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 49 
 
 serves to bind the two hemispheres firmly together. 
 The surface of the hemispheres is composed of gray 
 cellular matter, arranged in irregular groups, giving 
 rise to the so-called convolutions of the brain, which 
 vary greatly in depth and complexity in different 
 states of life. 
 
 Four divisions of the brain are distinguished: the 
 cerebrum, by far the largest part, occupying the upper 
 and front portion, being also the highest in function ; 
 beneath and behind this, is the cerebellum, or little 
 brain; while below and overshadowed by the upper 
 lobes are seen in order the pons varolii and the 
 medulla oblongata. 
 
 The downward continuation of the medulla oblong- 
 ata from its point of emergence through the foramen 
 magnum in the lower part of the occipital bone, is 
 called the spinal cord which is contained within a 
 kind of tube in the spinal column and extends the 
 whole length of the column. From the spinal cord 
 radiate numerous smaller trunks of nerve fibres called 
 simply nerves. 
 
 The nerves are given off from the spinal cord in 
 pairs, one on each side, numbering in all 31 pairs, 
 grouped into, counting from above, ''cervical" (8), 
 "thoracic" (12), "lumbar" (5), "sacral" (5), "cqccy- 
 geal" (1). Each nerve arises from the side of the 
 cord by two roots, anterior and posterior, the anteri- 
 or being composed of motor nerve-fibres, and the 
 posterior of sensory nerve-fibres. The spinal nerves 
 are not single fibres, but bundles of very many smaller 
 fibres bound together by connective tissue and sur- 
 rounded by a membranous sheath called neurolemma. 
 The nerve-fibres are exceedingly small and delicate, 
 the medullated varying from 3-^ to ^-fa inch in di- 
 
 Ptychology. 4
 
 50 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 ameter, and the non-medullated variety from ^OTT to 
 sfar inch in diameter, the finest fibres in the nerves of 
 special sense, in some instances being only yrgWo in ch 
 in diameter. 
 
 The nerves are classified into motor and sensory, 
 the former carrying the commands of the will or the 
 inner impulses of the soul outward to the muscles, 
 giving rise to the various movements of the body and 
 bodily organs, the latter conveying the stimulations 
 of the nervous end-organs inward to the inferior 
 centres and finally to the brain, giving rise to sensa- 
 tions. The peripheral ends of the nerves are distrib- 
 uted all over the surface of the body, but not every- 
 where in equal numbers, being most numerous in 
 those parts of the skin which are most sensitive, such 
 as the forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, finger-tips, etc. It 
 is farther observed that the surface distribution oc- 
 curs in groups or spots, e. g., temperature-spots, 
 pressure-spots, pain-spots etc. 
 
 The Sympathetic System is composed of several dis- 
 tinctly marked groups of nervous ganglia connected 
 by nerve-fibres, resembling somewhat a string of 
 beads. The following groups may be particularized: 
 first, a double string of ganglia, one on each side of 
 the spinal column; secondly, three groups in the cavity 
 of the thorax and abdomen, viz., one at the base of 
 the heart, another in the upper part of the abdominal 
 cavity, and a third in front of the last lumbar verte- 
 bra; thirdly, some smaller groups widely distributed 
 over the body, especially in connection with the veins 
 and arteries. 
 
 From this arrangement it would appear that the 
 sympathetic system serves to connect the various 
 organs of the body with each other and all of them
 
 NERVOUS END ORGANS. 51 
 
 with the cerebro-spinal system, thus bringing every 
 part of the entire complex organism into complete 
 harmony it serves as a bond between the sensations, 
 emotions, and ideas of the brain and those organs in 
 the chest and abdomen whose condition is so closely 
 related to the various psychic states, e. g., the organs 
 of circulation and respiration. The student's special 
 attention is called to this mechanism, since it affords 
 a convenient physiological basis for the explanation 
 of many a psychic phenomenon and of many other 
 things of great value to the musician. 
 
 Nervous End -Organs. Examining the peripheral ends 
 of the nerves more closely, we find that the nerves do 
 not terminate abruptly, but end in a peculiar kind of 
 mechanism, varying in different parts of the body, in 
 size, structure and delicacy according to the offices 
 they have to perform. These structures are known 
 as end-organs. Among these, especially prominent 
 and important are the end-organs of the five special 
 senses, viz., sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. 
 The end-organ of the optic nerve is the eye. 
 
 The Eye. The human eye is a wonderfully complex 
 organ and made with the most admirable skill, illus- 
 trating the wisdom, power, and goodness of the 
 Creator. It is globular in shape and fits snugly into 
 a cavity in the anterior portion of the skull, where it 
 is protected from injury by several accessory parts. 
 Its outer walls are composed of three concentric 
 layers, called respectively the sclerotica, choroid coat, 
 and retina. The sclerotic coat is on the outside, a firm 
 opaque substance, white in color, the "white of the 
 eye" being the anterior part of it. In front a trans- 
 parent, horny, highly convex part, called the cornea, 
 is inserted into the sclerotica, just as a watch-crystal
 
 52 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 is set into its rim. Next to the sclerotic coat is a pig- 
 ment layer, called the choroid coat. Inside of this is 
 spread out the retina, which is but an expansion of 
 the optic nerve after its entrance into the eye-ball 
 through an opening in the rear portion of thesclerot- 
 ica. The space inclosed by the walls of the eye-ball 
 is occupied by the aqueous and vitreous humors, the 
 crystalline lens, and the iris. The iris is a kind of vari- 
 colored curtain dropped down in front of the lens, 
 having a circular aperture in the centre, called the 
 pupil The lens, together with the humors, the ciliary 
 processes, the suspensory ligaments, and certain very 
 delicate muscles constitute the focusing and refract- 
 ing apparatus. Instead of shifting the position of 
 the lens as in focusing a camera obscura, the accom- 
 modation of the eye to varying distances is accom- 
 plished by changing the convexity of the lens by 
 means of certain muscles. 
 
 The retina is the most important part of the eye, 
 for it is in this that the seeing process takes place. 
 Its microscopic structure reveals ten different layers. 
 The fibres of the optic nerve having pierced the scler- 
 otic shell, spread out radially in a thin film over the 
 inside surface of the choroid coat, ending in the layer 
 of rods and cones, which, it is believed, are the specific 
 organs for taking up the influence of the light waves. 
 For further details the student is referred to some 
 good text-book on physiology, e. g., Martin's "Human 
 Body." 
 
 Eye -Culture. Though the mechanism of the eye is 
 perfect in itself, the art of seeing must be learned the 
 child by trial and by slow degrees must acquire the 
 right use of its eyes. Also, the adult eye may be in- 
 definitely cultivated in delicacy and accuracy of vision,
 
 EYE CULTURE. 53 
 
 as well as in other respects. The importance of eye- 
 culture can not be overestimated. When we remem- 
 ber that by means of the eye we gain by far the 
 greatest quantity and also the best quality of our 
 knowledge of the outside world, that through the 
 "windows of the soul," as the eyes have been called, a 
 person's true character shines forth, that the eye is a 
 powerful instrument of the will and an essential me- 
 dium of expression, we can judge how important it is 
 to every person in general and to every artist in par- 
 ticular to cultivate the art of seeing aright. 
 
 Our eyes were given us to be used in seeing things 
 and seeing them correctly. It is a reproach if "we 
 have eyes to see, and see not," or "seeing, but do not 
 perceive. ' ' We should learn to see the things that are 
 useful and good and beautiful in the great world 
 about us, for in them the thoughts of the Divine are 
 incarnated. Some one has said, "that all things are 
 made of thought." The poem is thought expressed 
 in words; the grand cathedral is stored-up thought 
 expressed in stone; the famous picture is thought ex- 
 pressed in shades and colors; the great statue is 
 thought expressed in marble or bronze; the charming 
 musical production is stored-up thought expressed in 
 notes and sounds; the works of nature are the stored- 
 up thoughts of the Creator expressed in mountain 
 and valley, in the dewdrop and the glowing sunset, in 
 the rose bud and the lilycup, in the babbling brook 
 and the tumultuous waves of the sea, in the quiet 
 sunshine of day and the brilliant stars of the mid- 
 night sky, in the mineral crystal and the sculptured 
 snow-flake, in the forest and in the ponderous globes 
 of space all beautiful and interesting things made 
 up of divine thoughts, everywhere appealing to our
 
 54 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 admiration and inviting our study, in observing 
 which we think after Him the thoughts of their glori- 
 ous Creator 
 
 T/i8 Ear. The organ of hearing is composed of the 
 outer ear, the middle ear, and the internal ear. The 
 outer ear is made up, first, of the conch, a kind of 
 funnel-shaped, movable, cartilaginous body located 
 on the side of the head, whose office seems to be to 
 collect the sound-waves and start them inward to- 
 wards the brain; secondly, .the external meat us, a tube- 
 like prolongation of the conch a contrivance similar 
 to the ear-trumpet; and thirdly, the drum-bead, a 
 conical membrane, stretched across the auditory 
 canal, called the membrana tympani, or head of the 
 drum. 
 
 The middle ear extends from the tympanic mem- 
 brane to the vestibule of the internal ear. The cavity 
 of the drum or tympanum, as it is sometimes called, 
 contains a chain of three small bones called respec- 
 tively, on account of their shape, the hammer, the 
 anvil, and the stirrup. The office of these small bones 
 seems to be to transmit sound vibrations and per- 
 haps act as dampers, similar to the dampers of the 
 piano-forte. From the lower side of the tympanic 
 cavity proceeds a small tube, called the Eustachian 
 tube, which opens into the pharynx, i. e., the upper 
 and rear part of the mouth. This serves the purpose of 
 regulating the varying atmospheric pressure upon the 
 tympanic membrane. The general office of the middle 
 ear is to transmit the sound waves on their way to 
 the brain and to modify these vibrations so as to 
 prepare them to act as stimuli on the sensitive nerve 
 filaments in the internal ear. 
 The internal ear or labyrinth occupies a cavity in
 
 THE HUMAN EAR. 55 
 
 the petrous portion of the temporal bone, said to be 
 the only completely ossified part of the skeleton at 
 the time of birth. It consists of three divisions, the 
 vestibule, the semicircular canals, and the cochlea. 
 The vestibule is a kind of antechamber through which 
 access is gained to the other two compartments. The 
 semicircular canals, three in number, are situated 
 back of the vestibule. They are about one inch long 
 and ^V of an inch in diameter, and contain a fluid 
 which performs an important office in the transmis- 
 sion of the sound waves. The function of the canals 
 is not fully understood. Some have thought that 
 they are the organs for perceiving noises. This theory 
 rests on a fallacious view of the nature and cause of 
 noises, and so must be rejected. Evidently we hear 
 noises and tones with the same organ and so we do 
 not need a special organ for perceiving noises. Gen- 
 erically noises and tones are not different, the one 
 by degrees shading into the other. Another theory 
 is that the canals together with the vestibule are an 
 apparatus for maintaining the equilibrium of the 
 body and for estimating position in space. 
 
 The cochlea, so called from its shape resembling 
 that of the snail shell, contains the true organ of 
 hearing, the other parts being only accessory. It 
 winds 2% times around a central axis (modiolus),like 
 a spiral staircase. The basilar membrane, which in a 
 way corresponds to the carpet spread out on a spiral 
 staircase, consists of a wonderful arrangement of 
 cells, called the organ of Corti. The rods and fibres 
 of Corti, 6,000 or 8,000 in number, are arranged in 
 rows on the basilar membrane, like the keys of a 
 piano-forte. These rods increase in length from the 
 base to the apex of the cochlea. The fibres are per-
 
 5 6 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 haps the supporting bases of the hair-cells, 20,000 or 
 more in number. "The hair-cells," says Prof. James, 
 "would thus seem to be the terminal organs for pick- 
 ing up the vibrations which the air-waves communi- 
 cate through all the intervening apparatus, solid and 
 liquid, to the basilar membrane." 
 
 Here we see an apparatus fashioned on the plan of 
 the harp, a harp, not of a thousand, but of ten 
 thousand, strings. This is the wonderful instrument 
 by means of which we are able to hear and to discrim- 
 inate the great variety of sounds that come in from 
 the outer world. How it works is not so well under- 
 stood. Our knowledge of the subject in the present 
 stage of scientific investigation, indeed, is very un- 
 satisfactory. Says Hensen: "It is possible that the 
 working of this apparatus may be altogether different 
 from any of our present conjectures." Understand- 
 ing the mechanism of the ear and calling to our aid 
 the principle of sympathetic vibration and the laws 
 of harmonics so ably unfolded by Helmholtz, we can 
 explain with tolerable satisfaction the process of per- 
 ceiving and analyzing the various sounds that reach 
 the nerve-filaments in the inner ear. 
 
 Range of the Human Ear. It is estimated that we can 
 hear about 11,000 different tones. The range of the 
 average human ear is about nine octaves of pitch, 
 that is, from about A 2 of the sub-contra octave (27% 
 vibrations, German scale) to above c 7 of the seven- 
 times-marked octave (16,896 vibrations). Preyer 
 makes the lower limit of audibility 16 vibrations per 
 second; Helmholtz, 34 vibrations for the lowest mu- 
 sical tone. Tuning forks making 28 vibrations per 
 second may be heard as a low droning sound. For 
 most ears, 28 to 32 vibrations make a buzzing,
 
 RANGE OF HUMAN EAR. 57 
 
 groaning sound. The upper limit of audibility varies 
 greatly, being from 20,000 to 22,000 vibrations per 
 second for the majority of ears. Some ears can per- 
 ceive sounds made by 30,000 to 40,000, and very 
 sensitive ears, as many as 50,000 vibrations per 
 second. 
 
 Ears differ greatly also in the ability to distinguish 
 very slight variations in pitch. Trained ears can dis- 
 tinguish, differences of % or % of a single vibration, 
 namely, in the range most easily covered by the hu- 
 man voice (c 1 to c 3 ). Where the piano gives only 24 
 notes, the ear can distinguish 3,000. In the upper 
 limits of the scale (e. g., above c 6 ) well trained ears 
 can distinguish notes differing by 100 or even by 
 1,000 vibrations per second. 
 
 It is to be noted that the capacity of the ear is 
 vastly greater than that of the human voice. The 
 pitch of the voice in singing is usually between 87 
 and 778 vibrations per second (i. e., from the deep F 
 of the bass singer to the upper G of the treble singer). 
 Christine Nilsson's voice is said to have reached 
 1,365 vibrations, which corresponds to f 3 , on the 
 basis of 256 double vibrations for middle C. 
 
 Beyond about 36,000, or possibly 50,000 vibra- 
 tions per second the ear cannot tell us anything of 
 what happens in the vibrating body; nor can any 
 other sense give us the desired information. There is 
 simply a blank in our sense-experience until we come 
 to about 18,000,000 vibrations of ether per second, 
 when we get a sensation of heat, a temperature far 
 below dull red. From the limit of lowest perceptible 
 heat up to red heat, i. e., luminosity, there is an 
 enormous leap of 471,982,000,000 vibrations. As 
 we pass upward from the red end of the spectrum the
 
 S 8 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 vibrations rapidly increase until we come to the ex- 
 treme limit of the violet which is represented by 
 733,000,000,000 vibrations per second. Beyond this 
 limit the vibrations are so rapid that neither the ear 
 nor any other sense can take them up, and again 
 there is a blank. 
 
 The Art of Hearing. As in the case of the eye, so with 
 the ear the proper use of it must be learned. The 
 new-born child must learn the art of hearing. This 
 art has both its physiological and its psychological 
 side. On the one hand, must be learned the accom- 
 modation of the physiological organism to the phys- 
 ical wave-impulses that stream into the inner ear; on 
 the other hand, must be learned the translation and 
 interpretation of the external impulses into sensa- 
 tions, conceptions, ideas, emotions, and volitions of 
 conscious experience. The child has everything to 
 learn that pertains to the vast world of sounds. The 
 adult ear also has much to learn, for it is true of all 
 of us that "having ears, we hear not." There are 
 innumerable sounds all about us which our dull ears 
 fail to perceive. There is enrapturing music in the air, 
 there is the "music of the spheres" which sing as they 
 move majestically in the depths of space, yet our 
 gross ears hear it not. 
 
 "There's music in the sighing of the reed; 
 There's music in the gushing of a rill; 
 There's music in all things, if men had ears: 
 The earth is but an echo of the spheres." 
 
 BYRON, Don Juan. 
 "Music is in all growing things; 
 And underneath the silky wings 
 Of smallest insect there is stirred 
 A pulse of air that must be heard; 
 Earth's silence lives, and throbs, and sings." 
 
 LATHROP, "Music of Growth".
 
 LEARNING TO LISTEN. 59 
 
 "The rustle of the leaves in summer's hush 
 When wandering breezes touch them, and the sigh 
 That filters through the forest, or the gush 
 That swells and sinks amid the branches high, 
 "Tis all the music of the wind, etc." 
 
 M. G. BBAINARD. 
 
 Truly, there is music everywhere, but, oh, these 
 dull and heavy ears! Our ears were given us to hear, 
 and therefore we should cultivate them to do what 
 they were designed to do. 
 
 We Must Learn to Listen. No other class of people 
 have so much need of cultivating their ears as music 
 students and the best way to do this is to attend to 
 sounds of all kinds and diligently learn to listen. The 
 true way of beginning a musical education is, not by 
 drumming on the piano or mechanically repeating the 
 notes of the scale, but by learning to listen aright. 
 Robert Schumann begins his list of sixty-eight rules 
 for young musicians by saying that we should take 
 particular notice of the tones about us. He con- 
 tinues: "The cultivation of the ear is of the greatest 
 importance. Endeavor early to distinguish each tone 
 and key. Find out the exact tone sounded by the 
 bell, the glass, and the cuckoo." That is a very good 
 rule; if we follow it day after day, we shall see how 
 many are the tones about us which we scarcely ever 
 notice. It is important to listen attentively to the 
 scale-tones, in order to become familiar with each 
 separate tone. In this way we are able to form a 
 clear conception not only of the various tones them- 
 selves but also of their relation one to another. We 
 must think the separate tones clearly and sharply so 
 as to realize just how each one sounds in the scale, 
 and what it signifies. All this is a severe mental 
 exercise, but it yields the best of results. Ear-training
 
 60 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 is thus a process of mind-training, and such on 
 psychological principles it ought to be. 
 
 Schumann says, "We should learn to refine the in- 
 ner ear;" but refining the inner ear means training 
 the mind to interpret aright the sound impulses that 
 come to the brain through the outer ear. It means 
 further to cultivate the mind's power to form clear 
 and accurate conceptions of the tones which the 
 outer ear reports, to judge correctly concerning them, 
 and to develop the power of thought. Thus eartrain- 
 ing is of the very first importance in a musical edu- 
 cation. The music student needs to learn first and 
 last to think music; without this, he can never be a 
 musician. This is a great principle which psychology 
 seeks to inculcate. Simply to confine the pupil to 
 notes and neglecting to do anything that will incite 
 him to listen clearly and sharply and to form for him- 
 self a mental image of that which he hears is to pro- 
 ceed contrary to the principles of mind and so to do 
 the pupil great harm. 
 
 The prevailing methods of studying and teaching 
 music are radically wrong. Instead of training the 
 inner ear and refining it we make it more dull; instead 
 of cultivating the habit of listening, we do just the 
 opposite. Instead of forming correct habits which 
 will aid the pupil in his progress and make his work 
 easy and pleasant, he forms bad habits which will be 
 a hindrance to him at every step on the way and 
 make his muscles and nerves his enemies, instead of 
 obedient helpers. 
 
 Mr. Tapper has very truthfully said: "One of the 
 quickest ways to become unable to hear sounds cor- 
 rectly is to play the piano without thinking fully of 
 what we are doing. Therefore it must be a rule never
 
 A WORLD OF MUSIC. 6l 
 
 to play a tone without listening accurately to it .... 
 No rule can exceed in importance this one, never to 
 make any music unthinkingly." We should "listen 
 as if listening were our life." And indeed it is a large 
 and very important part of our cultivated life, our 
 higher music life. 
 
 And what a wonderful tone-world this is in which 
 we live! What a world of music is round about us! 
 What variety, what wealth of tones! The rustling of 
 the leaves, the sighing of the breezes in the pine nee- 
 dles, the chirping of insects, the twittering of birds, the 
 bleating of lambs, the lowing of cattle, the neighing 
 of horses, the crowing and cackling of barnyard fowls, 
 the croaking of frogs, the hooting of the owl, the 
 barking of the watch-dog, the drumming of the 
 pheasant, the cooing of doves, the lonely piping of the 
 cuckoo, the murmuring of the shady brooklet in its 
 forest solitude, the dashing cataract, the roaring of 
 the sea, the whining and whistling of the winds in the 
 cordage and rigging of the vessel, the roll and crash 
 of thunder, the wild fury of the tempest, the rumbling 
 of wheels in the street, the tramp, tramp of horses' 
 feet, the quaint cries of the fruit and vegetable ven- 
 ders, the clang of bells, the shrill scream of the steam 
 whistle, the sound of saw and hammer, the puffing of 
 engines, the hum of machinery, the report of guns, 
 the buzzing of bees, and when the myriad sounds of 
 busy life and of industry have died away and you 
 stand alone under the canopy of heaven in the silence 
 of midnight, then listen, and you shall hear a won- 
 derful wealth of sounds issuing forth out of the regions 
 of silence listen, and you shall hear things which the 
 eye has not seen nor the outward ear heard, voices of 
 the unheard and unseen, whispers of eternity, throb-
 
 62 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 bings of the great world-soul listen to all this infinite 
 variety of tones, and you have the materials for your 
 arias, your sonatas, your symphonies, your oratorios. 
 
 W hat is it to Listen? To listen is to give undivided 
 attention to what is heard, to bend, and hold the 
 thought upon the sounds that come in through the 
 outer ear, to concentrate our mental energy upon our 
 sound sensations. Listening is thus a mode of 
 thought concentration. If we would learn to listen 
 correctly we must form the habit of thinking intently, 
 of fixing the mind upon the sounds that come into 
 the ear. The music student cannot make substantial 
 progress hi his work without earnest and persistent 
 study. Mere finger exercises cannot be a substitute 
 for study. Practice, indeed, makes perfect, but it 
 must be intelligent practice, and in nothing more so 
 than in music. What relation is there between the 
 musical concepts in the mind and the tones produced 
 by the piano? ''The piano is a photographic camera, 
 making for us a picture of what we have written, a 
 camera so subtle indeed, that it pictures not things 
 we can see and touch, but invisible things which exist 
 only within us" (Tapper). 
 
 But we must not presume to make the piano think 
 for us, as some unfortunately too often do. Instead 
 of looking carefully through the pages of their new 
 music, reading and understanding it with the mind, 
 they run to the piano and with such playing-skill as 
 they have they use their hands instead of their mind. 
 This is wrong, and does much harm to the student. 
 Before the hands and fingers can do their best work 
 there must be intelligence behind them to guide and 
 make effective every movement. The more knowledge 
 we have, the greater the skill and power of our hands.
 
 CLASSICAL MUSIC. 63 
 
 So, then, the music student must study diligently, 
 not only his immediate subject, but as many other 
 subjects of general knowledge as possible. Thus will 
 his mind come in contact with great thoughts, and 
 his whole being will be filled up with power. Thus 
 will he widen and deepen his culture, he will become 
 acquainted with the best and greatest things in the 
 world, and the tone of his life will be correspondingly 
 elevated. 
 
 When we study great music we come in contact 
 with great thoughts, just as when we read a great 
 poem, look at a famous picture, behold a magnificent 
 building, etc., for all the great works of art are stored- 
 up thought. As the placid mountain lake reflects 
 only what is abo ve it, so the works of the great mu- 
 sicians reflect only those great and lofty thoughts 
 which stand high above the plain of common things 
 and afford perpetual delight and inspiration to sym 
 pathetic souls. Thus, when we have gained some 
 understanding and appreciation of music by diligent 
 study, we not only think about what we play and 
 hear, but we begin to inquire what thought the com- 
 position contains and what meanings, what lessons 
 of life and duty it conveys to us. Thus we begin to 
 listen with the inner ear to the beautiful thought- 
 forms that filled the composer's mind. From the me- 
 chanical performance, from mere technique, we have 
 risen into the higher regions of expression and inter- 
 pretation. All this, and more too, is what comes 
 from learning to listen and from cultivating both the 
 inner and the outer ear. 
 
 Of the other senses and sense-organs, namely, taste, 
 smell, and touch, little needs here be said. Touch 
 excepted, they are of secondary importance to the 
 musician.
 
 64 MEANS OF MUSICAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 Looking at the nervous system as a whole, we see 
 here a mechanism admirably adapted for receiving 
 and transmitting impulses from without to the soul 
 within, and for giving expression to the conceptions, 
 emotions, and volitions of the soul by means of the 
 various muscular movements. The health and train- 
 ing of the nervous system are of the highest impor- 
 tance to the musician, and should therefore receive 
 his constant and serious attention. No one has 
 greater need than the musician of sound and well 
 trained nerves that are ever ready to do the bidding 
 of his will, to respond promptly and accurately to 
 every solicitation from the outer world as well as 
 from his inner world of thoughts and feelings nerves 
 that are truly the servants of his will, and in friendly 
 alliance with himself, 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Meaning of expression? 
 
 2. Subject of present inquiry? 
 
 3. What is the medium of expression? 
 
 4. Remarks about the nervous system in general? 
 
 5. Two main parts of the nervous system? 
 
 6. Give account of the several divisions of the brain. 
 
 7. Describe the spinal cord. 
 
 8. What are nerves, and how classified? 
 
 9. Facts about distribution of nerves? 
 
 10. Explain the sympathetic system, and its office. 
 
 11. What are end-organs? 
 
 12. Describe the structure of the eye. 
 
 13. Why is eye-training important? 
 
 14. What are the means of eye-training? 
 
 15. Describe the mechanism of the ear. 
 
 16. Theory about the office of the semicircular canals? Give 
 objection.
 
 QUESTIONS. 65 
 
 17. Give account of the organ of Corti, and explain its office. 
 
 18. State facts about the range of the human ear. 
 
 19. Compare capacity of the ear with that of the voice. 
 
 20. State facts about vibrations beyond the upper limit of 
 audibility. 
 
 21 . Show that the art of hearing must be learned. 
 
 22. What about sounds in nature? 
 
 23. Give Schumann's rule about listening. 
 
 24. Why listen to the scale-tones? 
 
 25. Show that ear-training is a process of mind-training. 
 
 26. Why is it important to think music? 
 
 27. What is said of wrong methods of teaching and studying 
 music? 
 
 28. Substance of Mr. Tapper's remark? 
 
 29. What of variety in the tone-world? 
 
 30. What is it to listen? 
 
 31. Why must the musician be an earnest student? 
 
 32. Why is general knowledge necessary to the musician? 
 
 33. Why should we study only great music? 
 
 34. Why should the musician have a sound and well trained 
 nervous system?
 
 66 HABIT. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Habit. 
 
 nabit we mean a fixed disposition to do a 
 thing, and a facility in doing it, the result of 
 numerous repetitions of the action a fixed ten- 
 dency to think, feel, or act in a particular way under 
 special circumstances" (Sully). 
 
 "An acquired habit, from the psychological point 
 of view, is nothing but a new pathway of discharge 
 formed in the brain, by which certain incoming cur- 
 rents ever tend to escape" (James). 
 
 1 'Habit is the involuntary tendency or aptitude to 
 perform certain actions which is acquired by their 
 frequent repetition" (Webster). 
 
 These definitions in a general way serve to denote 
 the particular field of mental phenomena now under 
 consideration. It is much better, however, for the 
 student not to confine himself to any formal defini- 
 tion, but from practical knowledge of the facts in the 
 case to frame for himself a working definition. 
 
 The phenomena of habit are familiar to everyone, 
 and may be studied every moment of our conscious 
 life. Whatever theory we may hold as to the connec- 
 tion between mind and body, there can be but little 
 doubt that habit has a physiological basis, and hence 
 Prof. James' phraseology "pathway of discharge" is 
 to be taken in a literal sense. In all probability it 
 represents correctly the facts in the case. But what 
 is meant by "a pathway of discharge?" It means
 
 WHAT HABIT IS. 6^ 
 
 the effect on the sensitive nerve substance, of the flow 
 of nervous force, set in motion by mind in the cereb- 
 ral hemispheres. When \ve speak of nervous force we 
 do not make this identical with mind, but it is rather 
 simply an effect of mind, mind-power transformed 
 into other modes of action. As chemical action in the 
 battery-cell is transformed into an electric current 
 which flows out through the wire-circuit of a telegraph 
 system, so we may represent motor-currents as trans- 
 formed soul-energy. Then we can literally speak of 
 ' 'path ways of discharge". To be sure, this is only a 
 theory, but if it guides us aright in the study of facts, 
 it serves an important purpose. We do not set up 
 the theory for its own sake, but simply as a means 
 for attaining to the truth; when we have found the 
 truth we may cast away the theory. 
 
 A thorough study of the higher nerve-centres sug- 
 gests the probability that these centres contain in 
 their groups of cells certain arrangements for repre- 
 senting impressions and movements, and other ar- 
 rangements for coupling the activity of these ar- 
 rangements together. "Currents pouring in from the 
 sense-organs first excite some arrangements, which 
 in turn excite others, until at last a discharge down- 
 wards of some sort occurs" (James). Be this as it- 
 may, whenever any activity occurs between one group 
 and another group of nerve-cells, between one centre 
 and another centre, or between the various centres 
 and their correlated muscular arrangements for the 
 production of motor effects, the facts show that each 
 time such activity is repeated the tendency for such 
 activity to recur is increased. This fact is aptly re- 
 presented by the word "pathway". The oftener we 
 walk over a given path, the more marked, the more
 
 68 HABIT. 
 
 deeply worn, the harder, the smoother, the less resist- 
 ing it becomes, and, other things equal, the surer we 
 are to keep on walking in that path. 
 
 So, habits are due to pathways through the nerve- 
 centres and nerve-fibres. The currents of influence 
 from outer stimuli pouring in through the sense- 
 channels, being once in, must find a way out, for 
 where there is action of any kind from outer stimuli, 
 there is also reaction from the centres towards the 
 outer world. These "currents in getting out leave 
 their traces in the paths which they take. The only 
 thing they can do, in short, is to deepen old paths or 
 to make new ones; and the whole plasticity of the 
 brain sums itself up in two words when we call it an 
 organ in which currents pouring in from the sense- 
 organs make with extreme facility paths which do 
 not easily disappear" (James). There is implied in 
 all this the property of plasticity in nervous sub- 
 stance on account of which certain after-effects re- 
 main when the exciting causes have ceased to act. 
 Plasticity in a body means such a structure of its 
 substance as will allow yielding to an influence with- 
 out destroying its integrity. This property in some 
 degree is found in all organic matter, but nervous 
 tissue possesses it in a very extraordinary degree. 
 To this property the phenomena of habit are due; 
 this is the physiological basis for the effects of repeti- 
 tion of an action. Habit is thus not a capricious 
 thing, but a law of our being, a law, moreover, which 
 hi an important sense conditions almost every other- 
 law of physical and psychical action in the human 
 economy. 
 
 Repeated action creates a molecular disposition in the 
 nervous substance. This is a principle of tremendous
 
 NERVOUS DISPOSITION. 69 
 
 consequence, as we shall see later on, and therefore it 
 demands our close attention here. Prof. Wundt says: 
 "Where we have no knowledge of the true condition 
 of the molecular changes, in which practice consists, 
 as is the case with the complicated structure of the 
 nervous system, we have only the one general expres- 
 sion, which, however, has the advantage in contrast 
 with the view of remaining material impressions, 
 that it claims material after-effects, which continue 
 at first, but with no practice gradually fall away; 
 and do not consist in a continuation of the function 
 itself, but hi facilitating its repetition." These endur- 
 ing changes or after-effects of nerve-stimulation we 
 call nervous disposition. 
 
 These after-effects consist in certain changes in the 
 arrangement of the material molecules by virtue of 
 which a permanent tendency toward a given mode of 
 action is produced within them. When a nerve has 
 once been excited by the application of a stimulus 
 there is produced within the nerve substance a ten- 
 dency to act in a similar way upon subsequent stimu- 
 lations. Every time the stimulation is repeated the 
 tendency for a given nerve-action to recur, is in- 
 creased. When impressions upon the brain cells 
 vanish from consciousness they do not pass away en- 
 tirely, but leave behind a permanent result, a certain 
 disposition in the nerve substance which under favor- 
 able circumstances facilitates the reappearance of the 
 original impressions. 
 
 Experience shows that a single sensation does not 
 visibly change the sensibility of the nerves, and there- 
 fore apparently leaves no lasting impression. It is 
 only when the sensation has been often repeated, at 
 certain intervals, that a marked and lasting change
 
 70 HABIT. 
 
 appears. "Every element becomes more suited to a 
 certain function the oftener it is led by external con- 
 ditions to exercise it. The frequent repetition of the 
 same impression greatly facilitates the reception of a 
 similar one, and the repetition of various sensations 
 in a certain sphere of the nervous system renders pos- 
 sible the distinction of the finest differences in the 
 force and quality of the received impressions. . . The 
 frequent performance of a function lessens the amount 
 of exertion necessary for a similar or more difficult 
 one. . . Many phenomena prove that when a sensa- 
 tion is frequently carried through the ganglia cells in 
 a certain direction, this direction will in future cases 
 when impressions touch the same cells be preemi- 
 nently disposed to act as conduct" (Wundt). 
 
 "It seems just as if impressions that repeatedly 
 transfer themselves from one point to another put 
 aside obstructions on the connecting paths, and make 
 the way freer, smoother, and more traversible. ... If 
 we often combine a certain feeling or conception with 
 a motion, the latter will finally take place involun- 
 tarily as soon as that feeling or that conception is 
 called forth, and vice versa. Certain notes recall 
 certain words to our mind, or the words, the notes, 
 and we sing or whistle them lowly to ourselves. That 
 bond which the practice of our central organs knits 
 between various stations of feeling, conception, and 
 motion, we call habitude. Stations which are in the 
 habit of corresponding, answer each other's dispatch- 
 es very promptly, while those of others are not 
 answered at all or only with hesitation and doubt" 
 (Kussmaul). 
 
 "Like a machine, which, if continually turned in the 
 same manner and moved by the same driving spring,
 
 HOW SKILL IS POSSIBLE. 71 
 
 receives a decided inclination and disposition to this 
 mode of motion, the human soul receives a decided 
 inclination and propensity for those modes of ex- 
 pression and feeling to which it has grown accustomed 
 by repeated similar practices" (Resewitz). 
 
 "Habitude is not only a state, it is a disposition, a 
 virtue. Habitude has the greater force when the 
 change which has produced it continues or is often 
 repeated . . . Repetition strengthens habitude; for 
 an act even when it has not been performed more 
 than a single time leaves a disposition which is the 
 point for the departure of habit" (Ravisson). 
 
 Let these statements by authorities on the subject 
 and coming, as they do, fresh from the psychological 
 laboratory, be duly weighed and their bearing consid- 
 ered. The very important fact here to be emphasized 
 and pressed upon the music student's attention is 
 that all impressions he receives, all objects he beholds, 
 all sounds he hears, all pictures he views, all images 
 of beauty he cherishes in his heart, all thoughts that 
 stream through his mind, all acts he performs, leave 
 in his nervous and mental being permanent results as 
 disposition or propensity to repeat his former states 
 and acts with ever increasing facility. 
 
 Attention is also called to the fact that the prin- 
 ciple here brought out is the foundation of all skill. 
 Were it not for this thing of nervous disposition as 
 result of previous acts and efforts it would not be 
 possible to acquire skill of hand in playing, or doing 
 anything else. Finger-training, ear-training, voice- 
 training, and every other kind of training would be out 
 of the question. No such thing as practice making 
 perfect would be possible, for we should do the simp- 
 lest act the hundredth time no better than the first
 
 7 2 HABIT. 
 
 time. Then could we never learn to walk, or see, or 
 hear, or talk; we should live our life in perpetual in- 
 experience and helplessness and drop into hopeless 
 imbecility. But the all-wise Creator has made us and 
 the world in which we live on the principle of economy. 
 As the disciples in the miracle of the loaves and fishes 
 were commanded to gather together the fragments 
 so that nothing should be lost, so in the economy of 
 nature it has been decreed that nothing should go to 
 waste. Everywhere energy, in its multitudinous forms 
 and ceaseless round of activity, is conserved, not 
 destroyed. 
 
 In the physical world, as in the mental, after-effects 
 remain when the exciting cause has vanished. The 
 beautiful colors of the fluorescent tube persist long 
 after the electric current has been broken. Luminous 
 undulations may be garnered up in a sheet of paper, 
 ready to be revealed at the call of special reagents. 
 A plate of dry collodion, after being briefly exposed 
 to the sun's rays, retains for weeks in the darkness 
 the effects of the indescribably delicate changes which 
 have been wrought in it by the actinic power of the 
 sunbeam. So "the well seasoned Cremona, which 
 has been played upon by skilled hands, will reproduce 
 the tones with superior sweetness and purity, on 
 account of the secret molecular changes of which it 
 has been made the subject of previous agitations from 
 the bow of the violinist" (Ladd). Hence the person- 
 ality which favorite instruments acquire by long 
 usage; hence also the reluctance with which the owner 
 of a fine piano allows another person to play on it. 
 The doctrine of stored-up energy physical, nervous, 
 mental is truly wonderful, and acquires new mean- 
 ing in connection with this study of habit.
 
 HABIT IN EDUCATION. 73 
 
 Habii in Education. We have spoken of the physio- 
 logical basis of habit and have attained a broad 
 foundation upon which to rise into some of its special 
 applications. What has habit to do with education? 
 Rousseau has said, "Education is certainly nothing 
 but a formation of habits." 
 
 "Habit almost invariably goes farther than pre- 
 cept, and the teacher must ascribe most of his suc- 
 cesses to the formation of habits. For the power of 
 insight generally covers a single case only, while that 
 of habit reaches through a whole life" (J. G. Curt- 
 man). 
 
 Lord Brougham has said: "I trust everything, 
 under God, to habit, on which, in all ages, the law- 
 giver as well as the schoolmaster, has mainly placed 
 his reliance; habit, which makes everything easy, and 
 casts the difficulties upon the deviation from a wont- 
 ed course." "Education deals altogether with the 
 formation of habits. For it aims to make some con- 
 dition or form of activity into a second nature for 
 the pupil. But this involves also the breaking up of 
 previous habits. This power to break up habits, as 
 well as to form them, is necessary to the freedom of 
 the individual."* 
 
 It is a wise precept of the Koran that the great 
 thing in all education is to see to it that the habits 
 of the child are of the right kind. It is a familiar 
 educational maxim that as the twig is bent the tree 
 is inclined; but this is nothing else than the philosophy 
 of habit expressed in the simple language of common 
 life. What the child's character, mental, moral, and 
 social, will be depends on the habits he forms during 
 the plastic years of childhood and youth, for every 
 
 * Rosenkranz, "Philosophy of Education," p. 35.
 
 74 HABIT. 
 
 experience, every impulse, every emotion leaves a 
 physical record and tendency in the brain and the 
 nervous system as a whole. Character in its essential 
 part is simply habit which has become fixed. 
 
 Habit is far the most powerful of all the education- 
 al forces; therefore its importance cannot be too 
 strongly urged upon the educator. If the pupil is 
 taught to act properly and then keeps on acting 
 properly, by and by good manners become fixed 
 habits with him; if he persists in doing right, after 
 a while right doing grows into a firm habit; if he con- 
 tinues spelling and pronouncing words correctly, 
 moving his hands and fingers correctly, and playing 
 correctly, these repeated acts will grow into life- 
 habits. 
 
 It is a saying in our language that "habit becomes 
 second nature," and the Duke of Wellington said, 
 "Habit is ten times nature." We can understand 
 what he meant by this when we recall another remark 
 of his while watching the boys at play in the yards of 
 Eton School, namely, "There the battle of Waterloo 
 was won." There, in his boyhood days, in the ex- 
 ercises of the playground as well as those of the 
 school-room, was laid the foundation of his military 
 training; there began the stream of habit, which 
 issued in the cool, deliberate, thoughtful, powerful 
 military leader, the hero of Waterloo. The habits 
 formed on the playground became to him a power 
 "ten times nature" in shaping his later life and 
 achieving his world-wide fame. Oh, that every pupil 
 and every teacher did but realize the tremendous 
 consequences of habit in the process of education! By 
 every act of our daily life, whether grave or light, 
 unconsciously we are spinning the web of destiny, we
 
 "HABIT IS TEN TIMES NATURE". 75 
 
 are making our own fates, good or bad, we are form- 
 ing those habits which will determine our character 
 and career. 
 
 The drunken Rip Van Winkle, in Jefferson's play, 
 excuses himself for every fresh neglect of duty by say- 
 ing, "I won't count this time." Ah! but it does count 
 none the less; every single act whether good or bad, 
 right or wrong, careless or thoughtful, counts with 
 unerring certainty, and never a single item is allowed 
 to go unheeded. Down among the braincells and in 
 the nervous and muscular fibers every movement is 
 counted and registered, every mistake is recorded in 
 the form of a permanent disposition to do the same 
 thing over again. Every act we do leaves behind it 
 a permanent effect. The things that we do often and 
 do habitually soon become "second nature." This 
 means that wrong habits, if not corrected, inevitably 
 organize themselves in our innermost nature into 
 powerful forces of opposition which in some critical 
 moment when we are desirous of achieving success 
 will assert themselves with direful obstinacy and 
 bring about humiliating defeat. 
 
 The great thing in education is to make our ner- 
 vous system our friendly ally instead of our enemy. 
 Happy is the man whose habits are his friends; woe 
 to the man whose habits have been such as to bring 
 his muscles and nerves in hostile array against himself! 
 This is of special value to the music student. What 
 is your musical education? A chain of habits. What 
 is your life? What are you? A bundle of habits. 
 Education means control of one's self mind, nerves, 
 body. It means that the natural and appointed ser- 
 vants of the mind in the execution of its desires, 
 ideals, and volitions shall be ready and obedient as
 
 well as intelligent. The importance of these facts 
 and principles needs to be thundered into the ears 
 of every music pupil, for evil habits are the rock up- 
 on which so many make shipwreck of their hopes 
 and aspirations. 
 
 Avoid Bad Habiis. My apology for calling attention 
 afresh to this old and hackneyed subject is its vital 
 importance and its vastly deeper meaning, on the 
 basis of psychology, than has hitherto been realized 
 by the majority of people. Why is it so important 
 for the music pupil to avoid evil habits? 
 
 Because they are "second nature," yea, rather, "ten 
 times nature;" and we know how powerful a thing 
 nature is in human life and education. In a previous 
 chapter we have seen that our nervous system is an 
 organism for receiving impressions from the outer 
 world and for reacting on these impressions. When 
 we study child-nature on a psychological basis we 
 soon become aware of how numerous and how power- 
 ful the native reactive tendencies, the impulses and 
 instincts of childhood, are. It is the business of edu- 
 cation to determine and direct into proper channels 
 these natural reactions, to substitute for the evil 
 and hurtful ones those that are right and helpful. It 
 is the work of education to organize the elements of 
 nature into forces for good in the development of 
 the mind's capabilities. 
 
 This principle lies at the foundation of the Kinder- 
 garten method and the manual training idea, which 
 one has called "the most colossal improvement of re- 
 cent years in secondary education." To grasp this 
 principle and apply it as an educating force is to un- 
 derstand the philosophy of education. These ac- 
 quired reactions of which we have spoken are nothing
 
 POWER OF HABIT. 77 
 
 else than habits. All our life, so far as it has definite 
 form, is but a mass of habits, practical, emotional, 
 and intellectual, systematically organized for our 
 weal or woe, and bearing us irresistibly toward our 
 destiny, whatever that may be.* 
 
 Habit is a law of our being in consequence of the 
 fact that we have a nervous system. In the words of 
 Dr. Carpenter, "Our nervous systems have grown 
 to the way in which they have been exercised, just as 
 a sheet of paper or a coat, once creased or folded 
 tends to fall ever afterward into the same identical 
 folds." 
 
 "Ninety-nine hundred ths or, possibly, nine hundred 
 and ninety-nine thousandths of our activity is purely 
 automatic and habitual, from our rising in the morn- 
 ing to our lying down at night." This is the mean- 
 ing of the saying that "habit is second nature," and 
 this also explains the reason why evil habits should 
 so carefully be avoided in the rudimentary stages of 
 musical education. 
 
 Evil habits should be avoided because of their irresistible 
 power. Habit is tyrannical in its nature, and all the 
 more so because it is insidious in its progress and in- 
 fluence. Says Montaigne: "Habit is a violent and 
 treacherous schoolmistress. She, by little and little, 
 slyly and unperceived, slips in the foot of her author- 
 ity, but having by this gentle and humble beginning, 
 with the aid of time, fixed and established it, she 
 then unmasks a furious and tyrannic countenance, 
 against which we have no more the courage nor the 
 power so much as to lift up our eyes." 
 
 "Habit at first is but a silken thread, 
 
 Fine as the light- winged gossamers that sway 
 
 James, "Talks to Teachers on Psychology."
 
 ,8 HABIT. 
 
 In the warm sunbeams of a summer's day; 
 
 A shallow streamlet, rippling o'er its bed; 
 
 A tiny sapling, ere its roots are spread; 
 
 A yet unhardened thorn upon the spray; 
 
 A lion's whelp that has not scented prey; 
 
 A little smiling child obedient led. 
 
 Bewarel that thread may bind thee as a chain; 
 
 That streamlet gather to a fatal sea; 
 
 That sapling spread into a gnarled tree; 
 
 That thorn, grown hard, may wound and give thee pain; 
 
 That playful whelp his murderous fangs reveal; 
 
 That child, a giant, crush thee 'neath his heel." 
 
 Habit has been called the "flywheel of society"; 
 with greater propriety it is the flywheel of individual 
 life. Observe that mighty engine yonder! Long 
 after the steam has been shut off the machinery set 
 in motion by the engine keeps on moving simply by 
 the momentum of its ponderous flywheel. What the 
 flywheel is to the machinery, habit is to human life 
 and action. The machinery cannot stop until the 
 regulating wheel lets it stop; so men cannot stop or 
 change their course of life until the power of habit 
 has been overcome. The confirmed drunkard, the 
 professional gambler, the inveterate smoker, afford 
 us only too common and sad examples. Beginning 
 with single acts, habit is formed slowly at first, and 
 it is not till its spider's threads are woven into a 
 thick cable that its existence is suspected. So power- 
 ful is this effect of the constant repetition of actions, 
 that men whose habits are fixed may be almost said 
 to have lost their free agency. Their acts become of 
 the nature of a fixed fate, and they are so bound by 
 the chains which they have forged for themselves, 
 that they do those things which they have been 
 accustomed to do, even when they know they can 
 yield them neither pleasure nor profit.
 
 EVIL HABITS HARD TO CORRECT. 79 
 
 "111 habits gather by unseen degrees, 
 
 As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas." 
 
 DBYDEN. 
 
 The delicate snowflakes high up in the mountains, 
 falling softly, noiselessly, one by one, are small and 
 insignificant things that can be destroyed by an in- 
 fant's breath. But these same snowflakes, gradually 
 accumulated from day to day, by and by form the 
 mighty avalanche rushing resistlessly down the 
 Alpine valley, carrying death and destruction in its 
 way. So the small acts of daily life, taken singly, 
 seem insignificant, but collectively they make the 
 character and shape the destiny of men. 
 
 It is of the highest importance in what direction 
 the stream of life starts out, and towards what goal 
 it moves. Look at that boat in the Niagara River 
 far above the falls. Slowly and indifferently it moves 
 at the will of the rower. The waters are calm, there 
 is scarcely a perceptible current, the bo at can be easily 
 turned this way or that. By and by it moves faster 
 and still faster; it is more difficult now to change the 
 course of the boat. Now it is in the death-grip of the 
 resistless rapids, its doom is fixed, effort of muscle 
 and agony of soul can avail nothing, a moment later 
 as by unalterable fate the boat with its unhappy oc- 
 cupant is dashed into the abyss of ruin! See in all 
 this the illustration of what habit is in education. 
 
 We should avoid evil habits because it is hard to correct 
 them. Habit grows stronger with age and repetition, 
 and character becomes set; therefore as the years go 
 by it becomes more and more difficult to leave the 
 old paths and turn into new ones. It is much harder 
 to unlearn than to learn. If a crease has once been 
 made in a sheet of paper, it is very hard to remove
 
 g HABIT. 
 
 it; be careful, therefore, that the sheet is folded the 
 first time in the right place, so that the effect of the 
 folding needs never be undone. The Grecian flute- 
 teacher was justified when he charged double fees in 
 the case of those pupils who had been taught by an 
 inferior teacher. It is much more difficult to teach 
 pupils who have been started wrong than those who 
 have made no start at all, because path ways of mental 
 and nervous activity have been made which must be 
 unmade before there can be any real progress, and 
 this unmaking is painful and difficult. 
 
 Our bad habits are thus expensive things; they cost 
 us much money, time, and annoyance to get rid of 
 them. Wrong habits are like diseases, they must be 
 eradicated before good habits can be formed. They 
 are like noxious weeds in a garden, they must be pul- 
 led up by the roots before useful plants can be made 
 to grow in their place. We must stop using our minds, 
 hands, fingers in a wrong way, and thus break up 
 evil habits: we must begin doing the right thing in 
 the right way and keep on doing this, and thus es- 
 tablish good habits. 
 
 Avoid the first mistake. There is a first time in every- 
 thing that we do, and this first time is of immeasur- 
 able value in the matter of muscular, nervous and 
 mental training. The first time largely determines 
 all subsequent times. Therefore, when a new act is 
 to be done, when something new is begun, our first 
 efforts should receive our utmost attention and 
 care our initiative should be the strongest, most 
 decided, most wideawake possible. The first start on 
 the road of life determines the direction and the des- 
 tination of the journey. The French maxim, "It is 
 only the first step which is difficult," is to the point
 
 AVOID THE FIRST MISTAKE. 8l 
 
 and suggests many an important lesson. It is an 
 old saying that "all beginnings are difficult." Habit 
 may be defined as an action so often repeated that it 
 repeats itself without thought. Hence the importance 
 of repeating only perfection. The will must say, 
 "The first step shall be perfect, and all subsequent 
 steps or motions shall faithfully copy the first." 
 Every repetition of imperfection is not only a loss in 
 itself, but it delays and makes more difficult the for- 
 mation of right habits. 
 
 Our chief anxiety should be from the beginning to 
 avoid mistakes, rather than, later on, to correct 
 them. It requires no more mental energy, no greater 
 nervous power, to do a thing right than to do it 
 wrong; but when once done wrong, it requires a great 
 deal more labor to undo what has been done amiss 
 than to do it the first time. "An ounce of prevention 
 is worth a pound of cure." "Well begun is half done." 
 
 The first music lesson is a crisis in the pupil's life. 
 O teacher, do you realize the bearing of the first les- 
 son you give your pupil? How does the flywheel 
 start? What is the course of the little rivulet which 
 for the first time starts down the mountain slope? 
 What is the pathway which the first discharge of 
 nervous energy marks out for itself in flowing down 
 from the higher brain-center through the fingers and 
 out upon the key-board? The first acts leave behind 
 in the cells of the nerves a permanent disposition to 
 act in the same way as on the first trial. 
 
 Pupils are apt to think that little mistakes are not 
 so serious; but from an educational point of view, it 
 is these first little mistakes that are most serious, 
 indeed. As a sheet of paper is sure to bend a second 
 and third time where it was first creased, as a 
 
 Psychology. 6
 
 82 HABIT. 
 
 repaired bone will break more easily where it was 
 once fractured, as a scar in the skin will be more 
 readily inflamed than other parts, so character is 
 always weakest at that point where it has once given 
 way, and those who have experience in the reforma- 
 tion of criminals know that it takes a long time for 
 a moral principle once broken and restored to become 
 so firm as one that has never yielded. This fact in 
 moral character rests precisely on the same psycho- 
 logical basis as first acts in education. 
 
 Therefore, never make a false note, never strike a 
 wrong key, for when you do this once you are liable 
 to do it again. Have a clear mental image of what 
 you are going to do; then see to it that this concep- 
 tion making its way out through the fingers into the 
 keys of the instrument starts its path in just the 
 right direction. Prof. Bain lays it down as an educa- 
 tional principle of primary importance, "Never suffer 
 an exception to occur till the new habit is securely 
 rooted in your life." If an exception is allowed to 
 occur and the continuity of training is broken, not 
 only is the advantage previously gained, lost, but there 
 is inaugurated a new habit in the wrong direction 
 which is the more difficult to overcome because it is 
 a kind of victory over antecedent discipline. A 
 Russian maxim says, "Habits are a necklace of pearls: 
 untie the knot and the whole unthreads." Each 
 lapse in the course of training is like dropping your 
 ball of yarn which you have been winding up so care- 
 fullyyou have to do the whole thing over again 
 from the beginning. "Never lose a battle," for every 
 gain on the wrong side undoes the effect of many 
 conquests on the right side. Be sure you have a 
 right conception of every step in your practice exer-
 
 NEVER DOUBT YOUR SUCCESS. 83 
 
 else, and then make your fingers execute accurately 
 what your mind holds in thought. Be sure of success 
 at the start, never doubt it, for this attitude of mind 
 will give strength and positiveness to the nervous 
 discharge and this in turn will deepen the pathway 
 of nervous action. 
 
 Be not anxious about your genius; it is what it is 
 nothing more nor less than your Creator has given 
 you. But be intensely anxious about your habits; 
 on that all depends; that will decide your success or 
 failure in music, in life. You, whoever you are, with 
 such talents as you may have, can do wonders, if you 
 start right and work right. Listen to the testimony 
 of a pupil in whose experience you may see the reflec- 
 tion of your own: "I have taken lessons of a great 
 many good teachers, but all have told me that I never 
 would be much of a player. I always felt there was 
 some secret withheld from me which prevented me 
 from becoming a pianist. From the teacher I now 
 have I have learned to say, 'What I desire to be, that 
 I can be,' and 1 have done more in one year than in 
 all the rest of my life before. The secret is very 
 simple. I was never taught to form habits; I was 
 given exercises, but never told why or to what aim I 
 should practice them. Now I find that conscious 
 effort, intelligently directed, enables me to form a 
 habit of playing a thing exactly as I would like to 
 play it."* 
 
 A student who had spent three years in pursuit of 
 his music studies at Leipzig, Germany, told the 
 writer that his experience was precisely similar to 
 that above described. Extensive observation among 
 many students leads us to the belief that this exper- 
 
 *"The Etude," Oct., 1897.
 
 84 HABIT. 
 
 ience is well nigh universal. It marks a radical defect 
 in existing methods of music teaching. He who does 
 not encourage his pupil to develop the gift that is in 
 him and to cherish a noble ambition to make the best 
 use of himself and directing his efforts intelligently, 
 cannot be considered a good teacher. 
 
 Says one, "The days of instruction in music are 
 over and the time of education in music has come. 
 Our chief aim is to develop, to educate the musical 
 sense of the pupil. Our essential service to the pupil 
 consists in getting him to think for himself." Among 
 the foremost thinkers and teachers of our time the 
 great principle of economy of habit is gradually com- 
 ing to be recognized at its proper value. Froebel's 
 grand idea, which germinated in the Kindergarten 
 method of primary instruction, is bearing fruit in our 
 day in promoting rational methods of teaching 
 music. Habit is the great conservator of mental, 
 nervous and muscular energy. As starts the tiny 
 rivulet, so will flow the fixed stream; the forces con- 
 served and directed by right habits in the beginning 
 of a musical education will issue in gratifying results 
 by and by. Hence the wisdom of centering special 
 attention upon the first music lesson. 
 
 A word to the teacher, by way of a friendly side 
 remark. In other respects, than those just men- 
 tioned, is the first lesson a crisis point in the pupil's 
 experience; to what extent, you may not realize, 
 possibly never be able to know. What impression 
 do you make on your pupil? Remember the educa- 
 tional maxim that there is no impression without a 
 corresponding expression; every stimulation from 
 without has its attendant and inevitable reaction. 
 Is your manner such as to encourage or to repel?
 
 LITTLE ACTS OF ENCOURAGEMENT. 85 
 
 Is it haughty, cold, unsympathetic? Kemember you 
 are dealing with a tender soul, that needs sunshine, 
 warmth, sympathy; it is like a rosebud, which will 
 not open and unfold its beauty and possibilities in a 
 chilling, biting atmosphere. When Liszt was but 
 twelve years of age he was advertised to give a con- 
 cert; and upon the solicitation of Schindler, Bee- 
 thoven went to hear and encourage this youthful 
 prodigy. When the little Liszt came out on the plat- 
 form, he saw Beethoven sitting in the front row. In- 
 stead of being unnerved by the great man's presence, 
 it was an inspiration to him, and he played with 
 great fire and abandon. In the storm of applause 
 which followed, the great master was seen to step up 
 on the platform and catch up the little fellow in his 
 arms and kiss him on both cheeks. Liszt never for- 
 got this incident and used to repeat it with great 
 pride, for he felt that the master had set the seal of 
 greatness upon him in that kiss*. 
 
 Beethoven's kiss was a very little thing in itself, 
 but great in its consequences; it was a timely mark 
 of appreciation, an act of encouragement; and who 
 knows the far-reaching influences of these little acts 
 of kindness and love in the educative process, in the 
 history of a soul's struggles to attain its unfolding 
 into manhood or womanhood? Benjamin West used 
 to say, "A kiss from my mother made me a painter." 
 A kiss or a smile of sympathy is a far more potent 
 factor than a cuff or a frown in the business of devel- 
 oping a pupil's possibilities. Sympathy is a grand 
 essential in the qualification of the teacher. He needs 
 to know not only human nature, but he must under- 
 stand pupil nature, which is something quite peculiar. 
 
 * Gates, "Anecdotes of Great Musicians."
 
 86 HABIT. 
 
 True sympathy recognizes the pupil's possibilities, as 
 well as his difficulties and discouragements; and it 
 knows how to speak the timely words, which are as 
 "apples of gold in pictures of silver," or do the 
 friendly act, which is as the refreshing shower to 
 withering vegetation. To teach pupils well and to 
 get the stream of their energies started in the right 
 direction they must be loved much. 
 
 Love is a great thing in the work of opening the 
 latent powers and beauties of the soul. Loving 
 sympathy is a never-failing means of getting into the 
 heart of persons and things. It is so in the higher 
 realm of art-interpretation in dealing with the 
 products of painting, sculpture, architecture, music 
 in the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures. The 
 "light and sweetness," the beauty contained in the 
 poem, the picture, the statue, the musical composi- 
 tion will yield to the touch of love when they yield to 
 nothing else. The great forces of mind and heart, 
 the hidden riches of literature, art and common life, 
 in all ages and countries to the end of time evermore 
 yield promptly to the beckoning magic wand of love. 
 And it is so in the art of teaching, in the opening of 
 the mind to truth and of truth to the mind. He who 
 knows the value of these educational principles will 
 appreciate also the bearing of the teacher's manner 
 at his first meeting with the pupil, on the pupil's sub- 
 sequent career. 
 
 Suggestions for the Formation of Right Habits. A few 
 hints in regard to the formation of useful habits may 
 not be out of place, and may prove of service to the 
 student. 
 
 First among these, as truly conditioning all the 
 rest, must be mentioned a strong and decided ini-
 
 CONCENTRATION AND INTENSITY. 87 
 
 tiative. As this in substance has just been explained, 
 we need here simply to give it mention. 
 
 Secondly. Practice concentration of thought and 
 intensity of effort. The wise man long ago formula- 
 ted this principle for us in words familiar to every one: 
 "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy 
 might" (Eccl. 9: 10). Herein is stated the first law 
 of success; those who heed this rule are likely to suc- 
 ceed. This does not mean doing things with one's 
 might on particular occasions or by spasmodic 
 efforts, but it means habitually so doing. When the 
 piano player, or organ player, or violin player con- 
 centrates all the energy of mind and heart and hand 
 upon his work, success is assured, for thereby is gen- 
 erated such a power of doing the right thing in the 
 right way that it will overcome all opposing difficul- 
 ties. The Apostle Paul made it his rule, "This one 
 thing I do," and this explains largely the wonderful 
 success of his labors. Charles Dickens once said: 
 "Whatever I have tried to do in my life, I have tried 
 with all my heart to do it well. What I have devoted 
 myself to, I have devoted myself completely. Never 
 to put one hand to any thing on which I would not 
 throw my whole self, and never to affect depreciation 
 of my work, whatever it was, I find now to have been 
 golden rules." Of king Hezekiah it is said, "In every 
 work that he began, ... he did it with all his heart, 
 and prospered" (2 Chron. 31: 21). 
 
 All these sayings rest on true psychological ground 
 and may be explained in the light of well known prin- 
 ciples. When the rays of the sun are scattered they 
 are not most effective for doing work, but when they 
 are converged to a focus by a burning glass they 
 become powerful enough to ignite combustible sub-
 
 stances. When the electric fluid in the thunder-clouds 
 is dispersed by many metallic points raised on the 
 surface of the earth there is little danger from light- 
 ning, but when the fluid is allowed to accumulate it 
 acquires such a degree of tension as to cause the 
 dreaded thunder-bolt to leap from the sky to the 
 earth carrying death and destruction in its way. If 
 the water in a great reservoir is allowed to escape in 
 ten thousand little rills it will all run off to no pur- 
 pose, but if these rills are turned into one stream a 
 mighty torrent is produced which no human power 
 can resist. So it is with the energy of the human 
 soul: dissipated, it can accomplish little; but turned 
 upon one point, it performs wonders. In the case of 
 the piano player our principle finds an important 
 application. Concentration of effort is a substitute for 
 long and wearisome hours of practice. Rubinstein 
 being asked by a young lady pianist how many hours 
 it was necessary to practice each day, replied that for 
 Americans, and especially ladies, an average of three 
 hours a day was the extreme limit, and less rather 
 than more should be the rule. Jacobsohn, the 
 violinist, said that he practiced only one hour a day, 
 but that this hour is so intense in nervous exertion 
 that he is completely exhausted and dripping with 
 perspiration at the end of that time. 
 
 These sentiments are founded on the nature of mind 
 and are confirmed by experience. The human mind 
 cannot concentrate its good and powerful thought 
 on any one subject for more than three or four hours 
 out of the twenty-four. Education trains us to get 
 the greatest results out of the least expenditure of 
 effort. Those who practice many hours a day must 
 put forth painful and long-continued effort, and they
 
 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 89 
 
 get but meager results. Concentration is economy 
 of mental and nervous power, and also of time. One 
 hour with concentrated thought is equal to four 
 hours with weak and dissipated thought. Therefore, 
 reduce the hours of work and waste by concentration 
 of thought. Then will more of the pupil's time be left 
 for other things in the way of improvement in general 
 culture; then will the habit of concentrating all his 
 powers become firmly established and effort in every 
 direction will become many times more effective and 
 easy. 
 
 "Applied concentration makes a musician, an artist, 
 a poet, a philosopher." It is a great truth, and 
 worthy of all acceptation. The degree of success a 
 man achieves and the rank he attains in any calling 
 depend more on this 'applied concentration' than on 
 the gift of genius or on accident. When he has learned 
 to bend his whole attention on the details of his work 
 he is on the highway of success in his chosen calling. 
 A powerful central nerve current is necessary for a 
 free hand and finger movement, for sure action, for a 
 steady stroke, for a tender touch, for self-control and 
 an easy, graceful pose at the instrument; it is a sure 
 antidote for nervousness and trembling. 
 
 Among the incidental requisites to such a powerful 
 nerve current maybe mentioned, first, proper nourish- 
 ment, which will secure a good fund of rich arterialized 
 blood, which in turn imparts tone and a healthy glow 
 to the bodily members. Then, there should be free 
 circulation of the blood, so as to secure an equitable 
 distribution of the life-forces carried by the blood, 
 and relieve all tendencies to local congestion in some 
 parts and the absence of blood in others, which gives 
 rise to an uneasy, restless, excited state of mind and
 
 body. Proper exercise must be attended to vigor- 
 ous, active exercise out in the open air and in God's 
 unclouded sunshine exercise that will open the pores 
 of the skin, send the color to the cheeks, and bring a 
 delightful glow to the whole body. Having taken 
 such exercise and having rested a while, the player 
 will resume his work at the instrument with better 
 control of muscles and nerves and he will be able to 
 employ such mental powers as he may possess to 
 much better advantage than he could before. Besides 
 all this, he will really enjoy his practicing. Some one 
 tells us that his remedy for stage-fright is to ad- 
 minister to the afflicted one a severe slapping on the 
 bare back until the skin smarts, and that this remedy 
 never fails. The principle involved is the same as 
 that above described, and rests on good physiological 
 ground. 
 
 But the great requisite is undivided attention. 
 "This one thing I do," on one thing I fix my atten- 
 tion, to one thing I devote my whole being, into one 
 thing I pour the whole stream of my activity, mental 
 and physical. "Be a whole man at everything", was 
 the advice of a celebrated Englishman to his son at 
 school. It is the lack of this wholeness of purpose 
 and energy which distinguishes the half-hearted and 
 blundering, the faltering and the weakling, from 
 those that win the victories of life. To make all the 
 nerve-forces flow in one channel is to make the central 
 current powerful and effective, whilst to allow numer- 
 ous side branchings is to weaken and dissipate the 
 effect. Says a shrewd American essayist: "The one 
 prudence in life is concentration, the one evil is dis- 
 sipation; and it makes no difference whether our dis- 
 sipations are coarse or fine property and its cares,
 
 UNDIVIDED ATTENTION. 91 
 
 friends and a social habit, or politics, or music, or 
 feasting. Everything is good which takes away one 
 plaything and delusion more, and drives us home to 
 add one stroke of faithful work." 
 
 The culture of a healthy, vigorous soul is like that 
 of a tree. The prudent gardener does not suffer the 
 sap to be diverted into a thousand channels merely 
 to develop a myriad of profitless twigs; he prunes the 
 off-shoots, and leaves the vital juices to be absorbed 
 by a few vigorous fruit-bearing branches. Mental 
 dissipation is peculiarly our American sin; we squan- 
 der our energies upon a distract ing, bewildering varie- 
 ty of objects, instead of condensing them upon one 
 thing. The general who scatters his soldiers all over 
 the field thereby ensures defeat; so he, whose attention 
 is forever diffused through so many channels that it 
 can never gather force on any one point. Notice those 
 clouds of steam as they rise in the sky. Nothing is 
 more powerless; they are as impotent as thedewdrops 
 that fall nightly upon the earth. But concentrated 
 and condensed in a steam-boiler, they are able to cut 
 through solid rock and to hurl mountains into the 
 sea. What made William Pitt the so-called "heaven- 
 born statesman?" It was the marvelous power of 
 concentrating his powers; it was the habit of bending 
 all his energies upon the thing in hand. Whatever 
 he did, he did with all his might. With him there 
 was no half vision, no sleepy eyes, no dawning sense. 
 "All his life he had his wits about him so intensely 
 directed to the point required, that it is said, he 
 seemed never to learn, but simply to recollect ... Is 
 it strange that such a man went straightway from 
 college into the House of Commons, and in two years 
 to the Prime Ministership of Great Britain, reigned,
 
 Q2 HABIT. 
 
 for nearly a quarter of a century, virtually king,- 
 and carried his measures in spite of the opposition of 
 some of the greatest men England ever produced?" 
 The simple secret of his success was that all the power 
 of his soul was concentrated on one purpose. 
 
 Concentration of soul-power will do wonders for all 
 workers, as it did for Pitt, Luther, Bismarck, Haydn, 
 Mozart, Beethoven, Handel, Bach, and all the rest of 
 the world's renowned worthies. Be not anxious 
 about your genius, it is what it is, do not stand 
 lamenting the parsimony of nature in the bestowment 
 of gifts upon yourself, for that will avail nothing. 
 But be attentive, diligent, soul-centered workers. 
 "Why stand ye here idle all day long? Go, work in 
 my vineyard," is heaven's call to you whoever you 
 may be. Concentrate your powers of mind and soul 
 and body on the one purpose of your life that will 
 tell the story, that will decide whether you shall at- 
 tain an honorable rank in your calling or remain for- 
 ever a common drudge. 
 
 Industry, application, labor are necessary in order 
 to achieve excellence in music as well as in painting, 
 sculpture, and literature. Remember Mr. Wirt's 
 motto, "There is no excellence without great labor." 
 Before a concentration of your powers, before de- 
 termined effort, before unremitting toil and applica- 
 tion and industry your bug-bear difficulties will van- 
 ish and your defeats will be organized into victories. 
 Handel was an indefatigable worker. His biographer 
 says of him: "He braved everything, and, by his un- 
 aided self, accomplished the work of twelve men." 
 Haydn, speaking of his art, said, "It consists in taking 
 up a subject and pursuing it." Mozart declared that 
 "work was his chief pleasure." Beethoven's favorite
 
 GENIUS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR LABOR. 93 
 
 maxim was: "The barriers are not erected which can 
 say to aspiring talents and industry, 'Thus far and 
 no farther'." John Sebastian Bach said: "I was in- 
 dustrious; whoever is equally sedulous, will be equally 
 successful." 
 
 All the great composers have been earnest students 
 and hard workers. Genius is no substitute for labor. 
 "Eternal vigilance," it has been said, "is the price of 
 our liberty:" it is also the price of our success in 
 music. The lives of great composers teach us that 
 they went about their tasks willingly and enthusias- 
 tically, doing well each task as it came and being con- 
 tent with moderate progress. "Great men take short 
 steps carefully," no matter how rapidly they are to 
 go. Robert Schumann wrote, "Success comes with 
 tiny steps." These facts and utterances should bring 
 comfort to the disheartened and kindle courage in the 
 timid and despairing. Perchance you have but one 
 talent; then find it, prize it, improve it by faithful, 
 earnest, conscientious work. Know that every step 
 of the way, every effort, every earnest endeavor brings 
 its sure reward. Stroke after stroke, year after year, 
 if you go on patiently, the habit of industry, of con- 
 centration, of careful, thoughtful work, will become 
 more firmly fixed and also more easy. 
 
 If you cannot accomplish as much as the masters, 
 you need not despair; you can still do a great deal 
 far more than you think. If men give their whole 
 attention to a subject, concentrate all their power 
 upon their work, they will be able to accomplish 
 much; on the other hand, if they give only a few oc- 
 casional minutes and desultory efforts to their work, 
 they will accomplish but little. If you expect to make 
 your music a success you must give time and labor
 
 94 HABIT. 
 
 and undivided attention to it. Set high your aim, then 
 go forward courageously in pursuit of it. Lay deep 
 the foundation, start the current of energy in the 
 right direction, see to it that the paths down among 
 the brain-cells are being marked out in the right way, 
 concentrate all your forces into a powerful central 
 current, and never doubt your ultimate success. "It 
 is a beautiful arrangement in our nature that the re- 
 ward for patient, faithful work comes silently to us, 
 and often we do not know of its presence. But some 
 day finding ourselves stronger, we look to know the 
 cause of it, and we see that the faithfulness of past 
 days has borne precious fruit."* 
 
 But such a course of training and habit-forming as 
 we are urging here requires great will-power. Yes, 
 indeed; let us settle this with ourselves from the start. 
 No one becomes a great musician without vigorously 
 willing to be such. As in a great manufacturing es- 
 tablishment it is the powerful engine hidden away 
 somewhere in a room by itself, that drives all the 
 machinery; so in the busy life of the brain worker it 
 is the powerful will behind all, that gives motion and 
 direction to the nervous forces, to the muscles, to the 
 hands, to the whole being in all the routine of daily 
 exercises. The will conditions almost everything in 
 the history of art-achievement. If we have simply 
 will to be and do something, we are already on the 
 highway of success. Let us try to understand this as 
 music students in the matter of forming habits of 
 concentration and attention: it will prove a talisman 
 to our success. "Where there is a will there is a way." 
 Do we understand what this really means? Do we 
 realize the truth of this old maxim, so as to become 
 
 * Tapper, "Musical Talks," etc.
 
 POWER OF WILL. 95 
 
 to us a working rule? On all sides we find limits to 
 our power; still it is generally true that he who in- 
 tensely wills to do a thing finds a way for its accom- 
 plishment. "An intense desire itself transforms pos- 
 sibility into reality. Our wishes are but prophecies 
 of the things we are capable of performing; while on 
 the other hand, the timid, feeble-willed man finds 
 everything impossible because he believes it to be so. 
 To resolve upon attainment is often attainment it- 
 self." 
 
 Nearly all great men have been remarkable for their 
 great energy of will. Napoleon's wonderful success 
 was due not more to his vast military genius, than to 
 his almost super-human will. "Impossible," said he, 
 "is a word only to be found in the dictionaries of 
 fools." When told that the Alps stood in the way of 
 his armies he replied, "There shall be no Alps!" and 
 the Simplon Pass was the result. Dr. Thomas Arnold 
 of Rugby fame said, "The difference between one boy 
 and another consists not so much hi talent as in ener- 
 gy." And Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton has given this 
 valuable testimony: "The longer I live, the more lam 
 certain that the great difference between men, bet ween 
 the great and the insignificant, is energy, invincible 
 determination, an honest purpose once fixed, and then 
 death or victory. This quality will do almost any- 
 thing in the world, and no talents, no circumstances, 
 will make a two-legged creature a man without it. . . 
 I am sure a young man may be very much what he 
 pleases." 
 
 These earnest, thrilling words coming from such 
 sources, deserve to be heeded and treasured by the 
 student: they will prove helpful, they will ennoble his 
 life and kindle inspiration to work. To think we are
 
 96 HABIT. 
 
 able to be something is itself a long step towards the 
 realization of our wish. "The truest wisdom is a res- 
 olute determination," was one of Napoleon's favorite 
 maxims. Have the courage to will something noble 
 and worthy of yourself, and then follow up your will- 
 ing with determined, persistent, concentrated effort, 
 and what may you not achieve? Be earnest and brave, 
 and have faith in your ability. "Woe unto him that 
 is faint-hearted," says the son of Sirach. A good old 
 German proverb expresses admirably the same senti- 
 ment, "Den Muthigen gehort die Welt." 
 
 "Resolute determination in the pursuit of worthy 
 objects is the foundation of all true greatness of char- 
 acter. Energy enables a man to force his way through 
 irksome drudgery and dry detail, and carries him on- 
 ward and upward in every station of life. It is not 
 eminent talent that is required to insure success in any 
 pursuit, so much as purpose not merely the power 
 to achieve, but the will to labor energetically and 
 perseveringly. Hence energy of will may be denned 
 to be the very central power of character in man in 
 a word, it is the man himself. It gives impulse to his 
 every action, and soul to every effort. True hope is 
 based on it, and it is hope that gives the real per- 
 fumes of life."* 
 
 The great thing willed, the good purpose once 
 formed, must then be carried out with alacrity. "In 
 life nothing bears fruit except by labor of mind or 
 body." The statement is grounded in basal facts of 
 human nature. He who allows his application to 
 flag, or neglects his work on frivolous pretexts, is on 
 the sure road to ultimate failure, because the habit of 
 doing so as irresistibly carries him to that end as the 
 
 * Smiles, "Self Help."
 
 EVILS OF THOUGHTLESSNESS. 97 
 
 rapids carry the boat once in their grasp over the 
 falls. Every task should be undertaken in a whole- 
 hearted way and as a thing not to be omitted on 
 slight occasion. When work is habitually done in 
 this way it will soon lose its drudgery and will become 
 easy and pleasant, for concentration of energy, ap- 
 plication, holding the will to a steady purpose are 
 habits, and like all other habits, become second na- 
 ture after a time. If we have formed habits of allow- 
 ing our minds to run from one thing to another with- 
 out direction, we must not be surprised if by and by 
 it becomes well nigh impossible to hold them to any 
 one subject for an appreciable length of time. On the 
 other hand all valuable habits are formed by the ex- 
 ercise of voluntary attention.* 
 
 Thirdly, Give Thought to What You Do. Thoughtless- 
 ness is the great enemy of progress in all branches of 
 study and pursuit; it is the giant evil that is respon- 
 sible for the great majority of mistakes which cause 
 so much annoyance and prove so expensive and dis- 
 astrous. Thoughtlessness is principally a bad habit, 
 and moreover the parent of an innumerable progeny 
 of other evil habits. It is the evil spirit, which return- 
 ing to the house whence it had been cast out and 
 finding the house unoccupied, took unto itself seven 
 other evil spirits, and the latter condition was worse 
 than the former. Some one has said that "the 
 harm of the world is done by two forces, by evil 
 thought and by thoughtlessness." Observe that 
 thoughtlessness, that is, the absence of thought, the 
 vacant, unoccupied state of mind, is one of these 
 harmful forces. It is a truth of vital importance to 
 the music student. Many are disposed to regard this 
 
 * Buell, "Essentials of Psychology." 
 
 Ptvohology. i
 
 matter lightly and even to speak apologetically con- 
 cerning it, as if it were a matter of course and not 
 attended by serious consequences; but in the light of 
 psychological principles it is in reality a very serious 
 thing. What pathway does the thoughtless act make 
 for itself among the braincells? That in a large 
 measure will determine subsequent acts. 
 
 No one can afford to sit down to his instrument 
 and let his fingers wander listlessly over the keyboard 
 while his thoughts are roving idly about. If only he 
 could see the mischief that meanwhile is being done 
 down among the braincells and in the nervous and 
 muscular fibers he would be startled and perhaps 
 cured of his fatal error. When the hands and fingers 
 are not guided by careful thought they perform many 
 unnecessary, and injurious motions which soon grow 
 into second nature and thus effectually bar the way 
 of progress in the right direction; instead of increas- 
 ing one's power and effectiveness of manipulation, 
 they weaken him; they are just so much precious 
 nerve-force wasted and worse than wasted, they are 
 like the minute worm holes in the dyke which little by 
 little make way for the influx of the destructive ocean 
 billows. There is great need of earnest thought in 
 the ordinary hand and finger exercises which are too 
 often performed in the most mechanical and indif- 
 ferent kind of way. We know, alas! too well what 
 the results are. The music which is performed with- 
 out thought is certainly never the highest order of 
 music, and the work at the piano which proceeds 
 without discriminating thought is not the best kind 
 of work. Nothing can be done well without thought. 
 All excellence, whether in common manual labor, in 
 art, in literature, in music is the product of intelligent 
 thought.
 
 THOUGHT MUST GUIDE THE HAND. 99 
 
 The practical lesson from all this is to avoid list- 
 lessness, absent-mindedness, thoughtlessness while 
 practicing exercises. No teacher should allow his 
 pupil to proceed with the lesson if his thought is not 
 centered upon the exercise, for reasons apparent to 
 all. Listen to the earnest words of Dr. Mertz: "Never 
 practise listlessly; always have your whole mind and 
 heart on your work, Know what you do and why 
 you do it." 
 
 The hand is the medium through which the musical 
 thoughts of our hearts flow out into the key-board 
 in the act of playing, or into the notes in the act of 
 composing a piece of music. The hand is the inter- 
 preter of the mind; in art products, it is the grand 
 outlet of thought, the highway of soul-power, the 
 medium of expression. In order that the hand may 
 be an efficient servant, it must be trained and kept 
 under control. But how is this done? By careful 
 thought. It is well enough to keep practicing until 
 certain movements of the hands and fingers become 
 automatic; but the best work of the hands arid fingers 
 is always done when they are directed by the thought 
 of the player. Music which is performed wholly by 
 automatic movements is of the kind that the organ- 
 grinder grinds out of his music box it is sound, but 
 lacks soul, lacks expression, because there is no 
 thought to express. Such also is the music which is 
 nothing but that kind of technique which requires 
 no thought on the part of the player hi the act of per- 
 forming it. 
 
 Who is the great pianist? Not he, who can beat 
 on the keys with the greatest force and produce the 
 greatest volume of sound; a common stone breaker 
 can do that. Who is the great violinist? Not he,
 
 100 HABIT. 
 
 who can perform all kinds of odd movements, cut up 
 all sorts of capers on the poor, afflicted, long-suffering 
 strings of his violin. Let not appearances deceive; that 
 is not art; that is the merest sham of art. Who is the 
 true painter-artist? Not he, who can make a loud dis- 
 play of colors and sketch fantastic figures and strike 
 startling poses. Who is the well-dressed lady or 
 gentleman? Not those, who attract the attention of 
 everybody on the street. He is the great pianist, the 
 great violinist, the true painter-artist, who has his 
 mind first of all filled with great thoughts, lofty and 
 noble ideals, and who, by many years of thoughtful 
 training, has taught his hands to obey the commands 
 of his will in the effort adequately to express his 
 thoughts and ideals, and interpret them in terms of 
 common simple life. Oh! one grows weary of all this 
 hah 7 intelligent twaddle about musical artists in our 
 day. True art is never demonstrative. As the true 
 artist approaches nearer and nearer the heart of his 
 subject, he is less disposed to affect brilliancy. The 
 masters are quiet and simple in proportion as they 
 become acquainted with the higher beauties of their 
 art. It is with them as with mountain climbers in 
 the valleys and low foot hills they may be gay and 
 noisy, but when they rise into the sublime heights 
 they become silent, serious, thoughtful. 
 
 What is it that makes our great masterpieces of 
 painting, sculpture, architecture, poetry, music so 
 grand and beautiful and lasting? It is the thought 
 they contain and express; behind these great works 
 is always a greater soul with its precious thought- 
 treasures. To such souls demonstration and affected 
 brilliancy are as foreign as boisterous garrulity or 
 idle jesting is foreign to the sublime mountain peak.
 
 RATIONAL METHODS. IOI 
 
 When we as art students, as makers or hearers of 
 music, come to rest our judgment upon such ideas of 
 art and artists, then are we not far from the true 
 kingdom of art all else is false and unworthy the 
 name. So much by way of parenthesis. 
 
 Our remarks have brought into view a principle, 
 which we must pause here to apply. We have said 
 that everything should be clearly thought out in the 
 mind before the hands are called on to act. But 
 what does this suggest as to methods of learning 
 music? We answer by asking another question, Is 
 that a normal, a rational method which sends the 
 learner, the first thing he does, to the piano and bids 
 him hammer away at an etude of which he has not a 
 single intelligent idea and to which he has not given 
 a moment of thought? How can one do thoughtfully 
 that of which he has not a single thought? How can 
 the hands be guided by thought where there is no 
 thought in the mind about that which the hands are 
 to execute? Will you first set the hands and fingers 
 into a hit-or-miss kind of movement with the hope 
 that thought would make its way up through the 
 fingers into the empty head and heart? Vain hope! 
 Idle delusion! Fatal error! Reverse the order; follow 
 nature. First fill the mind and heart with thought, 
 with ideas, and then let these flow down from the 
 higher centers through their appropriate motor 
 channels and out through the hands and fingers upon 
 the keyboard. Manifestly the pupil should first give 
 his thought to the exercise, st udy it, learn it, find out 
 what it contains and what the composer wishes to 
 convey by it; when he has done this he is ready to be- 
 gin the practice of it at the piano; not before. 
 Don't take your new piece to the piano to try it
 
 102 HABIT. 
 
 over, but rather sit down in some quiet corner and 
 go over it mentally. Study out its inner meaning, 
 its conception, its harmonies and effect. Then go to 
 the piano, and, with this mental picture vividly pho- 
 tographed on your mind, endeavor through the ex- 
 ercise of will-power, to make your fingers perform it 
 as you have conceived it. Your first attempts will 
 naturally prove unsatisfactory, but this will be the 
 fault of the hands and not of the brain. The practice 
 01 reading over mentally a composition time and 
 again cannot be too earnestly recommended. That 
 mental conception of music, which is everything in 
 playing, is frequently to be obtained only in this way. 
 So many players devote so much attention to tech- 
 nique that the most you can say of their pieces is 
 that they are executed (as one executes a criminal), 
 not-played.* There is too much bodily exercise "which 
 profiteth little," too little brain work in the average 
 music pupil's practice. The learner should study the 
 piece he is to practice, he should think musically. 
 "Pupils often practice for months upon a piece with- 
 out really knowing a single period of it; their practice 
 calls into exercise not a single idea, not a single effort 
 of mind to guide the fingers and give them certainty 
 of movement, firmness of stroke, or delicacy of touch; 
 it consists in mere mechanical playing of the notes, 
 no impression whatever being made upon the brain, 
 for the mind has not listened, the eyes have simply 
 looked to see that the fingers struck the correct 
 keys." Such work is waste of time, waste of nerves, 
 waste of muscle it never makes musicians. If pupils 
 were taught to study music, there would be more 
 musicians, and-fewer playing machines, fewer organ- 
 
 * "The Etude," March, 1897.
 
 NEED OF INTELLIGENCE. IOJ 
 
 grinders and piano beaters. "In the mad rush after 
 technique the brain has been forgotten, the mind has 
 been neglected; it has never learned the mysterious 
 language of sound and therefore cannot understand 
 the printed music except only as the music is inter- 
 preted by the fingers, and what kind of interpre- 
 tation is that which knows nothing about the thought 
 contained in the printed characters?" 
 
 Bring Intelligence into Your Work. What is meant by 
 this? Broad, general intelligence is necessary for suc- 
 cess in music as well as in anything else. A few years 
 ago a different opinion prevailed; it was thought that 
 the music student did not need thorough intellectual 
 training, classical culture, either because he was a 
 genius, or else because his work was entirely tech- 
 nique. But this is all a mistake. 
 
 Knowledge is power to the musician just as it is to 
 everyone else. To make a first-class musician there 
 is need of a high order of knowledge, not simply of 
 his narrow specialty, but of all the subjects that be- 
 long to a well balanced education. What comes from 
 the consciousness of knowing things thoroughly? A 
 calm, collected mind, a steady nerve, a firm hand, an 
 easy pose, a graceful manner. Knowledge expands 
 and strengthens the mental faculties, controls the 
 feelings, guides the will, and brings the entire life into 
 harmony with its surroundings. You need something 
 more than knowledge of notes and of musical terms. 
 There are other worlds than that in which you have 
 your special calling. Broad fields containing rich 
 treasures lie all about you and invite your investiga- 
 tion. Be taught by paintings and sculptures, build- 
 ings and landscapes, flowers and poems, mountains 
 and rivers, minerals and animals, clouds and stars,
 
 104 HABIT. 
 
 men and nations the thousand interesting things 
 that make up the environment of your daily life 
 and you will be a better and happier musician for the 
 knowledge you thus gain. 
 
 How is it possible to interpret the thought of the 
 great masters, contained in their compositions? 
 Only by getting into the same standpoint from which 
 they looked out, and listened to the sounds from the 
 world of harmony. Beethoven thought that three 
 things were true of his symphonies: "First, that they 
 are the product of his mental activity the result of 
 the organization of his whole experience; secondly, 
 that his mental activity involves all the principles 
 which are common to men and which enable one to 
 explain his mental activity to another; thirdly, that 
 his symphonies epitomize his knowledge of the think- 
 ing, feeling, and willing mind as known to him in self- 
 consciousness." The works of Beethoven are the 
 stored-up results of all the individual heart-beats, all 
 the individual acts of memory, all the glorious pangs 
 of feeling, all the efforts of will which passed through 
 his conscious experience in the course of life. All this 
 means that to understand and appreciate Beetho- 
 ven's music and then to interpret it to others, one 
 must be in sympathy with the experiences of his life 
 must, so to speak, live his life over after him. But 
 how can one do this? Only by sympathetic study of 
 the things which he experienced, the things which 
 made up his life, the things about which he was think- 
 ing, the things that he loved. Hence musical biogra- 
 phy is a study of great practical value to the music 
 student. 
 
 Our musical appreciation is the index of our 
 knowledge of the processes involved in the develop-
 
 KNOWLEDGE AND INTERPRETATION. 105 
 
 ment of musical art. To appreciate fully a fine piece 
 of music we must know how that piece grew in the 
 mind of the composer. How do we come to an ap- 
 preciation and a right interpretation of a fine poem? 
 What is it to understand literature and to perform 
 the office of literary interpreter? Not simply to know 
 the meaning of the words, to be able to construe the 
 phrases, clauses and sentences, to explain the figures 
 of speech it is all this, and much more. An intimate 
 acquaintance with the author's personal history is 
 necessary. There is no surer way to get at the secret 
 moulding principle in a great literary production 
 than through loving sympathy with the author. It 
 is so also in the study of musical compositions. 
 
 Music, perhaps more than any other subject, re- 
 quires a high order of intellectual and aesthetic ma- 
 turity in order to judge aright of its merits. A mu- 
 sical composition is, even to a greater extent than in 
 the case of a poem, the embodiment of the composer's 
 personality. "The ease and gracefulness of Mozart's 
 music reflects the predominant mood of the man; the 
 passionate intensity of Beethoven makes his music 
 without a rival in this respect; the lofty, but unregu- 
 lated genius of Wagner's music is a thorough reflex 
 of the ambitious and persevering opera-writer, stage 
 manager, and master of orchestration; the lovely 
 tone-forms, the beautiful picture-music of Schumann 
 reveal the poetic, dreamy character of the founder of 
 the modern romantic school of music." Our appre- 
 ciation of Beethoven's symphonies is intellectual as 
 well as formal; the very character and life of the author 
 are woven into their luminous texture and constitute 
 the background for their beautiful figures. But such 
 an intelligent appreciation and such a highly cul-
 
 106 HABIT. 
 
 tivated judgment imply extensive general knowledge 
 and numerous points of contact with the author's 
 experience. 
 
 I cannot forbear reproducing here what another 
 has so pointedly written. Good music implies the 
 training of the mind. Only they can appreciate the 
 classics who have something that is classic within 
 them. Some players choose true music with pure 
 thought in it, and do their best to play it well after 
 the manner called for by the composer. Their aim is 
 to give truthful expression to the music of a good 
 writer. Other players select music, which is of a 
 showy character, 'with much brilliancy and little 
 thought in it. Their aim is not to show what good 
 music is but show themselves. We must know the 
 best, that is what music-culture means, and we 
 must work for the best, for the truthful music, not 
 the brilliant and vain. When we seek only the vain 
 kind, we display poor taste. It is in music as in 
 dress, the flashy and showy is always indicative of 
 an uncultivated taste. As we become better ac- 
 quainted with true music we find it more and more 
 interesting, and it keeps saying new things to us. 
 We go to it again and agnin, and we always get new 
 meanings. As our intelligence grows and our taste 
 improves, the truly classic music yields new beauties. 
 It is like the light in a beautifully cut gem, it seems 
 that we never see all it is it is never twice the same; 
 always a new radiance comes from it.* 
 
 Enlarge the Field of Ideas. The musician has need of 
 broad and accurate knowledge so as to make just 
 discriminations. He would not play Bach and Beet- 
 hoven in one and the same color, nor would he inter- 
 * Tapper, -'Musical Talks," etc.
 
 VALUE OF MUSICAL HISTORY. toy 
 
 pret Schumann as he would Mendelssohn. Technique 
 is necessary, but technique is only the beginning. A 
 reliable technique is entirely under the control of the 
 mind, and should have for a foundation a scholarly 
 education, both musical and general. The study of 
 musical history is earnestly recommended. No stu- 
 dent can neglect this without serious loss. The pres- 
 ent can be understood only in the light of the past. 
 It has been said that "history is a great painter, with 
 the world for canvas and life for a figure. A culti- 
 vated reader of history is domesticated in all families: 
 he dines with Pericles and sups with Titian." 
 
 The great musical works that we possess are a 
 heritage from many years and from distant lands. 
 "From the days when men first undertook to give 
 order and system to the scale tones; from the days of 
 the monochord, of the Humae, of the two-line staff, 
 the art of music has been stepping forward, slowly at 
 first, as a child, then faster, as strength was gained, 
 until at length it hastens so that we marvel at its 
 development. ... In the history of music from the 
 days of Luther to our own time, we see the history of 
 mankind. . . No one can fully grasp the significance of 
 compositions by great writers who does not compre- 
 hend their place in history, for the reason that the in- 
 dividuality which composers put into their music is 
 formed by sorroundings which can be discovered only 
 in the pages of history. The era, the relationships, 
 the surroundings of a writer must inevitably enter 
 into what he produces, and, accordingly, to judge the 
 writer well and understandingly. one must know the 
 man in all his life-phases. 
 
 Close and careful study is necessary. Read the best 
 books and magazines, study the literature of your
 
 108 HABIT. 
 
 special subject, read the best poetry, read general 
 history as well as musical history, give attention to 
 various other branches of knowledge, such as acous- 
 tics, physiology, psychology, botany, aesthetics, criti- 
 cism, etc., etc. 
 
 But you say you have not time for all this. Im- 
 prove the unoccupied minutes and there will be time 
 enough to fill the mind with extensive and useful 
 knowledge. The great thing is to get your mind to 
 work and to keep it constantly at work. Only culti- 
 vate once a studious habit and a taste for literary 
 pursuits and then all objections as to lack of time, 
 opportunity, library facilities, etc., will vanish. Where 
 there is a will there is a way. A little system and 
 much perseverance will do wonders. 
 
 Fourthly, Practice Constant Repetition. An old Latin 
 proverb says, "Repetition is the mother of study." 
 If this be true of literary studies, it is doubly true of 
 musical studies. To keep bright what we have pol- 
 ished, to retain what we have acquired, to deepen and 
 keep smooth the pathways marked out, we must con- 
 stantly repeat our former exercises. Whenever men- 
 tal acts are often repeated, their corresponding 
 brain-cells are thereby made stable and vigorous by 
 the same law that gives strength to our muscles by 
 proper exercise. An arm carried in a sling becomes 
 weak, a muscle unused soon grows flabby; so also 
 the brain-cells. If, out of a hundred ideas, the thirty- 
 fifth, e. g., has been repeated more frequently than 
 the rest, the brain process corresponding to that 
 particular idea is most likely to gain recognition in 
 consciousness. We can picture to ourselves a contin- 
 uous struggle going on among our mental images, 
 the weaker ones must give way; the vigorous, well
 
 PRINCIPLE OF REPETITION. IOQ 
 
 grounded images survive. It is a difficult task to 
 learn a foreign language so as to speak it fluently, 
 but constant repetition fixes word after word, sound 
 after sound, so firmly in the mind, that we can recall 
 thousands of words and sounds with the greatest 
 ease and with little danger of forgetting. Because of 
 the natural law that everything tends to grow weak 
 by disuse, muscle and mind alike, we should so regu- 
 late our mental life that we are compelled to make 
 constant use of the facts already gained. 
 
 To this end a wide-awake literary club among mu- 
 sic students is a good thing; it gives an occasion to 
 make use of the results of reading or study on some 
 special subject, it stimulates the members to a whole- 
 some rivalry, and it calls the mental faculties into 
 exercise. A very entertaining and instructive pro- 
 gramme can be carried out at each meeting, giving 
 both pleasure and profit to all who take part. Con- 
 versation is a profitable exercise. If we talk over, 
 with some sympathetic friend, what we have read, we 
 thereby refresh our knowledge and impress it on our 
 own minds more deeply, for the conversational way 
 of putting things demands that we first have clear- 
 cut and sharp images of the things we would com- 
 municate, and then, in the act of communicating, we 
 gain the additional advantage of repeating these 
 images, thereby fixing them more firmly. 
 
 We say, practice makes perfect, and all this rests 
 on the principle of repetition. By a wise economy of 
 our nature the effects of previous efforts are not lost 
 but conserved as disposition in the nerve substance; 
 repetition of the act strengthens this disposition till 
 by and by we do automatically what at first required 
 the closest attention.
 
 Fifthly, Continuous Training. This matter of overcom- 
 ing evil habits and forming right habits implies a 
 desperate struggle, the most heroic and persistent 
 effort. More than simply will is necessary: with the 
 determined will must go the steady, uninterrupted 
 training process. Habits that have long been prac- 
 ticed may have gained such strength as to set at de- 
 fiance any power of the will that can be brought to 
 bear upon them. We have for illustration the ex- 
 perience of the drunkard. 
 
 "There is a wrong philosophy," says Beecher, "in 
 supposing that a habit which has fixed itself in the 
 fleshy nature can be overcome by the mere exertion 
 of the will. It is not enough to resolve against it. 
 You cannot vanquish it by the power of a resolution. 
 To that must be added continuous training." Form- 
 ing right habits means training. The faculties, nerves, 
 muscles of the child need to be trained. Education 
 means training leading out continuous leading out, 
 of the stream of mental and nervous energy over the 
 same pathways until habits of acting right are firmly 
 fixed, and then the stream will continue to flow on 
 in the same channel of its own accord. 
 
 Says Archbishop Whately : * 'Whatever a man may 
 inwardly think and say, you cannot fully depend upon 
 his conduct till you know how he has been accustom- 
 ed to act. For continued action is like a continued 
 stream of water, which wears for itself a channel that 
 it will not be easily turned from." Training is the 
 stream that wears deep its channel from which it is 
 not easily turned aside. Hence the wisdom of 
 Solomon's utterance, "Train up a child in the way he 
 should go: and when he is old, he will not depart 
 from it." This pedagogical maxim has stood the
 
 CONTINUITY OF TRAINING. 
 
 test for ages and it is still the summing up of the best 
 experience and the soundest philosophy of education. 
 Solomon did not mention in so many words any- 
 thing about the "psychologic foundations of edu- 
 cation,"* but that is precisely what he was think- 
 ing about, for the law of habit is the psychologic 
 foundation on which his maxim rests. As long as 
 mind is mind and nature is nature, so long will this 
 maxim point the true theory of education. 
 
 Join this utterance of the wise man with that of an- 
 other very wise man who looked deep into the nature 
 of the soul and who founded his theory of soul-cul- 
 ture upon ultimate facts of experience, and you have 
 a complete view of the best educational system the 
 world has ever known "I see another law in my 
 members warring against the law of my mind . . . 
 The good that I would I do not; but the evil that I 
 would not, that I do ... To will is present with me, 
 but how to perform that which is good I know not" 
 (Rom. 7: 1521). Here is brought out the nature 
 and present condition of the soul, and its consequent 
 predisposition to evil habits; hence the necessity of 
 just such a method of soul-culture as Solomon sug- 
 gests, the key-word of which is "train up." 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Define habit. 
 
 2. Psychological idea of habit. 
 
 3. Explain "pathway of discharge." 
 
 4. On what property of nerve-substance does this depend? 
 Explain. 
 
 *Harris, "Psychologic Foundations of Education,"
 
 j j 2 tiABii. 
 
 5. What is said of molecular disposition? 
 
 6. Give substance of Prof. Wundt's remark. 
 7. What is meant by nerve-disposition? 
 
 8. What is meant by "habitude"? 
 
 9. Point out its practical value to the music student. 
 
 10. How is skill possible? 
 
 11. Illustrate the principle by facts from physical nature. 
 
 12. Explain ground for the personality of musical instruments. 
 
 13. Give Rousseau's remark about education. 
 
 14. What further is said on the same subject? 
 
 15. Explain "Habit is ten times nature." 
 
 16. What reference to Rip Van Winkle? 
 
 17. First reason why evil habits should be avoided? 
 
 18. What is said of native reactive tendencies? 
 
 19. What is said of the Kindergarten and manual training 
 methods? 
 
 20. Second reason for avoiding bad habits? 
 
 21. How is habit the "flywheel of society"? 
 
 22. Why is it hard to correct evil habits? 
 
 23. Give example of the Grecian flute-teacher, and what may 
 we learn from it? 
 
 24. Show importance of "the first time" in doing things. 
 
 25. Wherein is the first music lesson a crisis in the pupil's life? 
 
 26. Importance of attending to little mistakes? 
 
 27. State Prof. Bain's two educational principles. 
 
 28. Quote testimony of the music pupil. 
 
 29. What is said about instruction and education in music? 
 
 30. What is said about the teacher's manner? 
 
 31. Incident about Liszt and Beethoven, and what does it 
 illustrate? 
 
 32. Value of love in the teacher's art? 
 
 33. First suggestion for forming right habits? 
 
 34. State second suggestion. 
 
 35. Quote remarks about concentration. 
 
 36. How many hours should one practice? Explain the prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 37. Bodily conditions necessary to a strong nerve-current? 
 
 38. Method for curing stage-fright, and on what does it rest? 
 
 39. What is said of undivided attention? 
 
 40. What is said about hard work? Quote sayings of several 
 authors.
 
 QUESTIONS. 113 
 
 41. What need of will-power? 
 
 42. Quote Arnold and Buxton on the value of energy. 
 
 43. Give third suggestion for forming right habits. 
 
 44. Explain psychological ground of the rule. 
 
 45. Show need of thought to guide the hands. 
 
 46. Need of thought in the common practice exercises? 
 
 47. Consequences of thoughtlessness? 
 
 48. What about the false and the right conception of artists? 
 
 49. What about methods of teaching and learning music? 
 
 50. Should a pupil first take his new piece to the piano to try 
 it over? Why? 
 
 51. Why bring broad intelligence into the music work? 
 
 52. How shall this be done? 
 
 53. Show need of high intelligence for interpreting musical con- 
 ceptions. 
 
 54. What is said of classic music? 
 
 55. How may the music pupil enlarge his field of ideas? 
 
 56. Fourth suggestion for forming right habits? 
 
 57. On what principle does this rule rest? 
 
 58. State fifth suggestion. 
 
 59. Why is training so important in education?
 
 114 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Association. 
 
 THE workings of thought often seem mysterious. 
 Ideas come into our minds apparently without 
 cause and without connection. For days and 
 weeks perhaps I have been trying to recall some 
 name, but all in vain. One day as I am walking 
 along the street, my thought wandering miles and 
 miles away from the object in quest, all at once the 
 forgotten name comes into my mind as indifferently 
 as if I had never tried to recall it, suggested, it may 
 be, by the fruit- vender's call, or the teamster's com- 
 mands to his horses, or some article in the show- 
 window. I know not how the name has come back 
 into my consciousness, what has happened among 
 the brain-cells, or what has disengaged the name-con- 
 cept from other concepts below the threshold among 
 which it was entangled I know simply that the name 
 has come back to me under such and such circum- 
 stances. The mind works under strange conditions, 
 indeed, and to the psychologist these strange opera- 
 tions are as interesting as they are strange. Who can 
 count, or account for, the silly fancies, the grotesque 
 suppositions, the irrelevant reflections, the strange 
 thoughts, etc., that come and go in the stream of 
 consciousness during the course of a single day? 
 They seem to be entirely disconnected; apparently 
 there is no causal bond between them; but the fact is
 
 SEQUENCE OF IDEAS. 115 
 
 that they are not causeless effects; there is a link of 
 connection between them all. 
 
 Sequence of Ideas. In the chapter on concept-mass 
 we learned that no concepts stand alone. Every 
 idea that is in the mind or ever comes into conscious- 
 ness is connected with other ideas. So in the stream 
 of concepts that make up consciousness at any mo- 
 ment, there is a logical sequence, a definite order, in 
 which the concepts come and go. This order is deter- 
 mined by association. However disconnected and 
 fantastic the ideas which float through our minds 
 may be, they come and go by virtue of a law as 
 definite as that which controls the flow and ebb of 
 the tides, regulates the seasons or holds the planets 
 in their courses it is the Law of Association. 
 
 Mr. Halleck tells us that he was once surprised, in 
 a distant city, to find a picture of the Yale campus 
 appear in his mind. He was thinking of a subject 
 which had no conceivable connection with that cam- 
 pus. The mystery was solved when he realized that 
 he was at that moment hearing a certain tune whist- 
 led, which had before been strongly associated with 
 the college grounds.* 
 
 Notice in the following example how one idea is 
 associated successively with another, and therefore 
 how one brings up another. I sit in my study I 
 hear a loud rumbling noise in the street below it is 
 occasioned by some heavy vehicle it is a traction 
 engine previously seen a picture of an accident I 
 witnessed years ago comes into mind there is an- 
 other engine coming round a sharp corner a horse, 
 frightened by the sight and sound, makes a sideward 
 spring and overturns the carriage picture of a man 
 
 *Halleck, "Psychology and Psychic Culture."
 
 Il6 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 who jostled me as the crowd was running towards 
 the scene of the mishap he looked like Jones have 
 not seen Jones since I was at school the first time I 
 saw him there he was sitting on the library table, 
 eating sandwiches I always said there was no use in 
 letting those books remain in cloth binding that re- 
 minds me, I would better have my magazine sets 
 bound before they cost too much I don't like to 
 spare those articles of Brown's I shall want them 
 for that essay on finger training by the way, that 
 clavier has just arrived the express man Tom 
 brought it Tom has a stiff hand, the result of a rail- 
 road accident the train was ditched by a cow belong- 
 ing to my friend Wilson he is now at Leipzig the 
 old "Gewandhaus" has been demolished those cele- 
 brated concerts, conducted by Mendelssohn a plain 
 marble cross in Old Trinity Churchyard, Berlin, marks 
 his final resting place, etc. etc. Seemingly there is no 
 connection between these various ideas, and no 
 definite order in which they come, but the law of as- 
 sociation explains why the ideas succeed one an- 
 other in just this order and no other. No idea ever 
 appears unless there is a definite reason for it. 
 
 In the case of dreams our ideas are apt to be wild 
 and fantastic, but the current flows on obedient to 
 the same laws as those that control our waking 
 thoughts. The ideas that make up the dream come 
 in their particular order according to the law of asso- 
 ciation. If a person gets the cover off his feet on a 
 cold night, he may dream of walking barefoot on a 
 glacier; or if he has recently been reading about Nan- 
 sen's polar expedition or about Klondyke ad ventures, 
 he will probably dream of strange experiences in 
 those inclement regions.
 
 PHYSIOLOGICAL BASIS. 117 
 
 Physiological Basis of Association. I think a careful 
 study of the facts of experience will leave little room 
 for doubt that the phenomena of association rest on 
 a physiological basis. This appears the more prob- 
 able when we reflect on the process of perceiving out- 
 ward objects. How, for instance, do I obtain the 
 percept and the concept of an apple? With the eye I 
 gain facts concerning its size, shape, color; with the 
 fingers I learn that it is rough or smooth, hard or soft, 
 also that it is large or small, round, flat, oblong, etc.; 
 with the sense of taste I find out that it is sour or 
 sweet, or has any specific flavor; with the sense of 
 smell I become aware of its characteristic apple-odor, 
 and so on. From these various sense-data, how do 
 I form the concept of the apple? The object that has 
 awakened these different sensations of color, shape, 
 size, taste, smell, etc., is not to me an apple until 
 they have all been woven together into one mental 
 picture which I call the concept of the apple. The 
 psychological laboratory reveals the fact that the 
 several senses report their respective items of infor- 
 mation to different subordinate centres in the brain; 
 the eye reports to one part, the ear to another, the 
 taste to a third, and so on; different groups of cells 
 have been in action and have received corresponding 
 contents or impressions, like so many separate lake- 
 lets into which flow streams from different sources. 
 How is it possible for these different sensations to be 
 brought together into one idea, the concept of the 
 apple? By association of sensations, effected by 
 means of cells and groups of cells that communicate 
 one with another by connective fibres of the brain. 
 Here we find the physiological basis of the associa- 
 tion of ideas. Though this can be accepted only as
 
 Il8 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 a theory it nevertheless affords a plausible expla- 
 nation of the phenomena in the case. 
 
 Laws of Association. Several distinct laws of associa- 
 tion have been observed, according to which ideas 
 naturally group themselves and which determine the 
 order of their reproduction. These laws have been 
 differently stated and classified. In general they have 
 been classified as primary and secondary. By a pri- 
 mary law of association is meant a general, universal 
 rule which all ideas obey in coming into conscious- 
 ness; by a secondary law we mean some particular 
 reason why one of many associated ideas recurs to 
 consciousness rather than the rest. 
 
 Primary Lams of Association. There is really only one 
 sharply defined primary law of association, and that 
 is the law of contiguity. Contiguity means the state 
 of being contiguous, that is, in actual contact, touch- 
 ing, adjoining, neighboring, adjacent. Contiguous 
 ideas are those which are adjacent in the samegroup, 
 those which came originally into consciousness at 
 the same time or at different times under like circum- 
 stances, as parts of the same mental picture and 
 apperceived in the same state of concept-mass. Ideas 
 grouped together in this way have a tendency to re- 
 call or suggest each other, so that when one for any 
 reason is called up the rest of the group will likewise 
 come, just as when I take hold of one link of a chain 
 and raise it up, other links will also rise. 
 
 In applying and explaining the law of contiguity it 
 is not necessary that objects must be actually contig- 
 uous in space and time. The objects thus associated 
 may be thousands of miles apart and may be sepa- 
 rated by a stretch of many years; it is necessary only 
 that the mind perceives the ideas together, side by
 
 LAW OF CONTIGUITY. 1 19 
 
 side in the same group. If, for example, when reading 
 history, I have at any time grouped in my thought 
 the names of Hannibal, Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, Wellington, Washington, Grant, etc., as 
 those of the world's great generals; or Beethoven, 
 Mozart, Mendelssohn, Handel, Bach, Schumann, 
 Chopin, etc., as musicians; or Shakespeare, Milton, 
 Dryden, Pope, Shelley, Burns, Tennyson, Longfellow, 
 etc., as distinguished poets whenever after wards any 
 one of these names comes into mind the other asso- 
 ciated names will follow, though the persons they rep- 
 resent lived in distant portions of the earth and at 
 widely separated periods of time. The principle of 
 contiguity is just as applicable as if all the persons 
 named were present in one place and at one and the 
 same time. It is enough that their names have been 
 brought together in the same mental group and 
 there stand side by side. 
 
 Contiguity includes facts both of coexistence and 
 of succession. When ideas are in the mind at the 
 same time, e. g., some particular house and its im- 
 mediate surroundings, a person and the sound of his 
 voice, a musical chord and a particular piano forte, 
 the ruins of a castle and the clambering ivy, the har- 
 bor of Naples and a glowing sunset, the amorous 
 bower and the moonlight serenade, the snow and the 
 sleighing party, etc., they are said to coexist. When 
 ideas follow each other, like the members of a series, 
 the chapters of a book, the letters of the alphabet, 
 the words of a sentence, the lines and stanzas of a 
 poem, the seasons of the year, the days of the week, 
 the events of a life time, etc., they are ideas in suc- 
 cession. 
 
 In learning the alphabet, a is associated with b, b
 
 120 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 with c, c with d, etc. Therefore, in repeating the let- 
 ters we say, a, b, c, d, and not a, zn, h, x, because this 
 is the order in which the concepts of the letters on 
 first coming into the mind were successively asso- 
 ciated. 
 
 Suppose I undertake to memorize Gray's Elegy in 
 a Country Churchyard. "The curfew tolls the knell 
 o parting day" In memorizing the lines I learn the 
 successive words in just this order and no other, that 
 is, the concepts are associated in my mind in this 
 particular way; hence, in reproducing the lines I start 
 with the first word and then the following words 
 come in the order of their association. Were it not 
 for this law, other words foreign to the poem might 
 come in at any point; the mind might turn aside and 
 think of parts of other poems, and so instead of 
 following the lines word for word in the right order it 
 would make a conglomeration of various disconnect- 
 ed words and phrases. Thus, "The curfew tolls," 
 "My country, 'tis of thee," "Once upon a midnight 
 dreary," "Strike, till the last armed foe," "All blessings 
 flow," etc. 
 
 That the phenomena of contiguity have a cerebral 
 explanation is very probable. Whenever any brain 
 cells have once acted together in any process of per- 
 ception, the subsequent stimulation of any one in the 
 given group will tend to set the others into a motion 
 similar to that which they had previously experi- 
 enced. "When two elementary brain-processes have 
 been active together or in immediate succession, one 
 of them, on re-occurring, tends to propagate its ex- 
 citement into the other" (James). 
 
 Secondary Laws of Association. According to the 
 general or primary law just now stated, all associ-
 
 SUMMATION OF STIMULI. 121 
 
 ated ideas should be reproduced when any one of the 
 series is made to return to consciousness. If brain 
 cells, sensations, and concepts are associated as has 
 been explained, we might suppose that our whole 
 past experience would be constantly streaming in 
 endless succession through our consciousness, since 
 at any moment some brain processes are sure to act 
 in conjunction with others that have acted before in 
 a similar way. But as a matter of fact we know that 
 such is not the case. To answer this question we 
 must unfold our subject farther, and bring under 
 consideration certain specific principles which are 
 called the secondary laws of association. Here we 
 inquire why some particular concept among many 
 associated concepts on a given occasion comes into 
 consciousness in preference to others, and why not 
 all in regular succession return. 
 
 The solution of the problem depends on a principle 
 of nervous activity, called the summation of stimuli. 
 This means that a stimulus which by itself would be 
 insufficient to excite a nerve-centre to effective dis- 
 charge, may, by acting with one or more other 
 stimuli equally insufficient by themselves, bring about 
 such discharge. The balking car-horse may serve to 
 illustrate the principle. No single thing is able to 
 start the horse; but by applying a number of ex- 
 citing causes his balking may be overcome. For ex- 
 ample, the driver uses his voice and the reins, a by- 
 stander pulls at the bridle straps, another applies 
 the whip, the conductor rings the car-bell, the pass- 
 engers get behind the car and shove it upon the 
 horse's heels, a boy precedes with some tempting ears 
 of corn or bunch of grass, the lady passengers try to 
 scare the horse with their parasols, etc., etc., when
 
 122 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 all of these incitements are applied at the same time 
 the obstinacy of the animal generally yields, and he 
 goes on his way rejoicing. So when we are trying to 
 recall a lost name, we think of as many "cues" as 
 possible, we repeat the letters of the alphabet, then 
 we form syllables with the letters in alphabetical or- 
 der, we think of other names, akin to the one in quest, 
 and so on, and the method generally succeeds on the 
 principle of summation of stimuli; discharges from 
 associated brain cells reenf orce each other, and by 
 their joint effect determine whether one idea or an- 
 other shall be awakened. 
 
 The father of a dull boy, wishing to exhibit to some 
 guests the boy's progress in kindergarten instruction, 
 holds his penknife upright on the table, and says, 
 "What do you call that, my boy?" "A knife," is the 
 persistent answer. Recollecting that in the kinder- 
 garten exercises, not a knife, but a pencil, was used, 
 the father held upright his pencil and repeated his 
 question, whereupon the desired answer promptly 
 came, "1 call that vertical!" The example strikingly 
 illustrates the working of the boy's mind. He had 
 often seen a knife, but not in connection with the idea 
 of a vertical line, and therefore the sight of the knife 
 alone did not awaken the concept vertical; when, 
 however, the pencil WSLS substituted, which before had 
 acted with other things in producing a particular 
 group of impressions, immediately it served to bring 
 up its associated concept of a vertical line. 
 
 In the phenomena of association we have both 
 total recall and partial recall. According to the law 
 of contiguity, our ideas should return to the mind 
 with unvarying regularity, just as the notes in the 
 tune of the organ-grinder. But our minds do not
 
 PRINCIPLE OF INTEREST. 123 
 
 work in such a mechanical way, our ideas do not al- 
 ways come and go just like the notes of the music 
 box. In partial recall some constituent concepts of 
 the original group are passed over, while others re- 
 appear; not all our past experiences are equally oper- 
 ative in determining what particular ideas shall ap- 
 pear in the awakening series. Not all are equally 
 prominent: there is always some one that stands out 
 above the rest and, so to speak, dominates the repro- 
 ductive process. That item is always the one that 
 appeals most powerfully to our interest. The follow- 
 ing illustration, adapted from Prof. James, shows 
 this principle of interest. Looking at my clock (1879), 
 I found myself thinking of Mr. Bayard's resolution 
 in the Senate about our legal tender notes; the clock 
 called up an image of the man who repaired its gong 
 he suggested the jeweler's shop where I last saw 
 him the shop recalled some shirt-studs which I 
 bought there the studs, the value of the gold and 
 its recent decline the gold, the equal value of green- 
 backs these brought up the question of how long 
 they were to last and so, finally, the Senate Bill. 
 Each of these images hi the associated series, offered 
 various points of interest. The gong at the moment 
 referred to was the most interesting part of theclock, 
 because, having begun with a beautiful tone, it had 
 become discordant and aroused a sense of disappoint- 
 ment (hence, the need of the repairer's services). 
 This explains why I thought of the gong and then of 
 the succeeding members of the series, rather than of 
 the friend who presented the clock to me, or one of 
 the many other circumstances connected with it. So 
 then to explain the phenomenon of preference in the
 
 124 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 matter of partial recall we must resort to the princi- 
 ple of interest, to which we shall refer again. 
 
 Several forms of the secondary laws of association 
 are to be noted. 
 
 1. The Law of Correlation. Otherwise stated, this 
 means likeness. If there are fifteen ideas associated 
 by contiguity, and if there is likeness between the 
 third and seventh, these will be most apt, other things 
 equal, to come into the mind together. Where there 
 is any thought-relation between ideas, they are apt 
 to suggest one another. The study of etymology af- 
 fords many examples of such thought-relation, the 
 great majority of words being founded on physical 
 imagery insomuch that one has called our dictionary 
 a 'collection of faded metaphors.' Our word tribu- 
 lation (from tribulum, a threshing instrument) 
 suggests wheat or chaff, and vice versa; chastisement 
 (from castus, white), a process of cleaning, further 
 associated with sno w and wool ("Though your sins 
 be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though 
 they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool"); 
 succor (from sub and curro, to run under), the idea 
 of one person putting his shoulder under the burden 
 which another is bearing; imbecile, the image of a 
 tottering form resting on a staff, etc. The study of 
 etymology carried on in this way, namely, by corre- 
 lating images and meanings, not only makes the sub- 
 ject intensely interesting, but also cultivates the habit 
 of associating concepts according to their inner 
 thought-relations. 
 
 It will help one to remember the position of the 
 several letters on the staff by associating the staff 
 with the human hand, thus:
 
 CORRELATED IDEAS. 
 
 125 
 
 (A-lwaya 
 Mr 
 
 LINES{D-o 
 
 B-oys 
 (G-ood 
 
 SPACES 
 
 G-ained 
 E-asy 
 C-ases 
 A-ll 
 
 The letters in the spaces from the bottom upwards 
 spell FACE. 
 
 The student should train himself to unite concepts 
 in his mind by the natural relations of things. One 
 of the great beauties of a trained mind is that its 
 concept-mass is made up of rationally correlated 
 ideas and consequently it recalls things preferably in 
 their thought-relations, and is not enslaved by the 
 accidents of time and place. Prof. Halleck calls at- 
 tention to the fact that an ignorant person on the 
 witness stand will insist on telling everything, just as 
 it passed through his experience, no matter whether 
 it bears on the case or not. His mind is a slave to 
 the facts of contiguity, and so machine-like he repeats 
 everything, ofttimes very much to his attorney's dis- 
 comfort. If, between two given events, something 
 else with no bearing on the case happened, he must 
 narrate the incidental facts also in order to keep on 
 the track of his story. For example, his associated 
 series of concepts might run thus: Bought a barrel of
 
 I 2 6 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 flour on trust at a red grocery one of his children 
 was teething he stepped across the street to the drug 
 store to get a bottle of paregoric the clerk was a 
 young fellow with a black moustache he resembled 
 that farmer boy, who bought the gray nag at the 
 public sale, where he met cousin John by the way 
 his children have the whooping cough, and he called 
 Dr. R he passed in front of his office on the way to 
 the red grocery, etc. Having never trained his mind 
 to think logically, i. e., according to the necessary 
 thought-relations of things, he must relate all the 
 events of the series in the order in which they occurred, 
 for he has no other way of getting from the one im- 
 portant event to the other. If you break the chain 
 for him, as in the act of cross-questioning, you are 
 likely to confuse him and render him helpless so that 
 he cannot proceed at all. He stands puzzled, like a 
 man hi the middle of a stream where an accustomed 
 stepping stone has been removed. 
 
 The following example from Mrs. Kadcliffe's "The 
 Komance of the Forest" (quoted by Halleck), illus- 
 trates the point admirably. Peter, one of the char- 
 acters, rushes into the room, with important news, 
 which his master is eager to hear: 
 
 '0, 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." 
 
 "Why, then, sir, as I was standing in the blacksmith's shop, 
 comes in a man with a pipe in his mouth, and a larg-e pouch of 
 tobacco in his hand." 
 
 "Well what has the pipe to do with the story?"
 
 LOGICAL ASSOCIATION. 127 
 
 "Nay, sir, you put me out; I can't go on, unless you let me tell 
 it in my own way. As I was saying with a pipe, etc." 
 
 Practical life furnishes many similar illustrations. 
 If a student has memorized a piece of music mechan- 
 ically, i. e., without giving any thought to the notes, 
 phrases and periods, he is likely to be entirely thrown 
 off, if, in the public rendition, he accidentally omits a 
 single note. So, in reciting a declamation, which has 
 been mechanically committed to heart, as the phrase 
 goes. Such methods of memorizing should be dis- 
 couraged. 
 
 We thou/d associate things logically, that is, according 
 to their inner thought-relations, and not simply me- 
 chanically, or, still worse, accidentally. If a child for 
 the first time sees a horse and a sheep together, the 
 relation being purely accidental, the next time he 
 sees one of these animals, he is apt to think of the 
 other, not because there is any inner connection be- 
 tween them, but because he happened to see them to- 
 gether the first time. Such a process has little disci- 
 plinary value and does not contribute much to the 
 child's growth in intelligence. The scientific educator 
 knowing this principle will guard his pupils against 
 accidental associations in the exercises of the school 
 room. All their concept-associations should be based 
 on the inner and true relation of things. Failing in 
 this, the business of instruction becomes more diffi- 
 cult, and the results less satisfactory. We all know 
 how hard it is to memorize and recite, for example, 
 the Proverbs of Solomon, or the maxims of Poor 
 Richard's Almanac: the reason is that the reciter sees 
 no connection between the successive verses or max- 
 ims, and so must depend upon pure memory. Not 
 only is the process of memorizing made much easier
 
 128 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 but it also contributes much more to mental growth 
 if the things learned are connected by a true thought- 
 relation. 
 
 Among the inner relations of things, may be men- 
 tioned those of cause and effect, instrument and use, 
 means and end, law and example, container and 
 thing contained, symbol and thing symbolized, 
 genus and species, etc. Further examples of corre- 
 lates are such as, the wing of a bird and the atmos- 
 phere, the fin of a fish and the water, oar and boat, 
 organ and bellows, piano keys and the fingers on the 
 hand of the player, heart and blood, lungs and air, 
 eyes and light, ears and sound, house and occupant, 
 book and reader, the ebb and flow of tides, root and 
 trunk, bird and nest, trough and crest of waves, the 
 harp and the harper, lock and key, life and organiza- 
 tion, body and soul, etc. In all these cases the rela- 
 tion between the parts is not accidental, but it is a 
 relation of thought, design, adaptation. 
 
 The human mind is naturally curious; it delights in 
 tracing the connections of things; the search for causes 
 is native to it; the disco very ' of thought relations is 
 an exercise entirely congenial to the inquiring mind. 
 Gaining knowledge in the nature of the case should 
 not be a tedious and painful process, and we can say 
 it never is if carried on in the right way. Gaining 
 knowledge is interesting and stimulating when we 
 can discover the causes of the things we see and hear. 
 Hence the fascination of scientific studies, such as bot- 
 any, zoology, physiology, geology, physics, astron- 
 omy, etc. Learning bare facts in a mechanical way 
 is apt to be laborious and uninteresting, and the facts 
 when learned are retained with difficulty. A better 
 way to learn facts is to learn them in connection with
 
 WHYS AND WHEREFORES. 129 
 
 their causes or the search for their causes. In the 
 study of harmony, it will aid the pupil in learning the 
 facts about chords if his attention is directed to the 
 cause why certain notes make consonance and others 
 make dissonance. That there is a cause for these 
 phenomena the intelligent teacher very well knows, 
 and if he can succeed in starting his pupil upon a 
 course of investigation he will not only make the sub- 
 ject of harmony interesting, but he will greatly benefit 
 the pupil in the way of mental development. It will 
 help us to interpret a piece of classic music if we can 
 find out why in one part there are written major 
 chords and in another minor; why in one place, 
 crescendo and in another decrescendo; allegro now 
 and andante then; forte here and pianissimo there. 
 It is not enough to learn, by stuffing the memory, 
 that such and such marks are found in particular 
 places, but it is more interesting and more important 
 to know why these marks are there and why they 
 stand in one place rather than in another. 
 
 Can the pupil know these things, and is it lawful for 
 him to inquire into such matters? Time was when 
 such inquiries would have been considered entirely un- 
 necessary, perhaps, impertinent; but we are living in 
 an age of investigation, which is true of music as well 
 as of everything else. To carry a load of facts by me- 
 chanical association is like carrying supplies of food 
 "in a bundle strapped upon the back;" while carry- 
 ing the same facts by rational association is like car- 
 rying the food "eaten, digested, and wrought over in- 
 to the bones and muscles and nerves which hold the 
 body firm and solid and ready for .use." Learning the 
 causes of things awakens in the pupil a sense of 
 
 Ptvcholoov- 9
 
 130 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 power and of satisfaction, a realization that he is 
 doing something and is making real progress in his 
 music studies. The feeling has a reactive influence, 
 for the greater the feeling of power and the keener the 
 sense of pleasure it yields, the greater is the amount 
 of attention the pupil gives to his work. Is it possi- 
 ble to make the practicing of etudes interesting in the 
 way above suggested? Let the wide-awake teacher 
 try the experiment and find out for himself. 
 
 For these three reasons, then, we should strive to 
 associate things according to their inner thought-re- 
 lations, viz., first, because of the pleasure the mind 
 derives from the exercise; secondly, because of the 
 practical results; thirdly, because thereby a useful 
 habit is cultivated. 
 
 Hence, the importance of being careful, pains-tak- 
 ing, wide-awake students; of setting facts into the 
 mind in their rational order; of having intelligent 
 ideas as to why things, which we find in our music les- 
 sons, are as they are, and not simply that they are 
 thus and so. Do not allow either yourself or your 
 teachers to cram your mind full of disconnected facts, 
 but train yourselves into the habit of searching for 
 .an intelligent cause of the things you learn; bring 
 new concepts into your growing concept-mass in 
 their right relations so that every step in the process 
 of your technical musical training may be a step at 
 the same time in the development of your intellectual 
 powers. We should be able, not only religiously but 
 also musically to "give a reason for the hope that is 
 in us" the hope of success in our calling. It is a 
 hopeful sign when students ask intelligent questions 
 not idle quibbles for the sake of killing time or for
 
 THE STUDENT "A TRUTH-HUNTER." 131 
 
 amusement, but earnest, searching questions that 
 help them forward and enlarge their field of ideas. 
 
 Plato defined man as a "truth-hunter". That is a 
 good definition of a student: he must be a truth- 
 hunter. What does this imply? The saying of Plato 
 rests on the figure of game-hunting. Here are tracks 
 on the snow, on the sand, in the mud what made 
 them? Whither do they lead? Whence do they come, 
 etc? So in the pursuit of knowledge; the truth-hunter 
 finds tracks, evidences, intimations, markings of all 
 sorts what are they? why? whence? for what pur- 
 pose? why thus and here? why not otherwise, etc? It 
 is a good practice to surround the subject of investi- 
 gation with a thousand questions. One question 
 answered is a thousand new ones raised, and thus the 
 way into the secrets of things is opened. Socrates 
 was a great questioner; it was thus he confounded 
 and overcame his enemies. Our Saviour at the age 
 of twelve was found in the temple in the midst of the 
 doctors of the law both answering and asking ques- 
 tions. There is a picture of the model student. Music 
 students also need to study, to inquire, to apply 
 themselves, to be zealous truth-hunters. Study many 
 things; not merely notes. The more general knowl- 
 edge you possess, the more power you will have in 
 the pursuit of your special calling; the more meaning 
 you will see in the composition you are playing, the 
 more beauty and meaning you will be able to bring 
 out of it; the higher will be your rank as a musician. 
 
 2. The Law of Repetition. This rests on the same 
 fundamental fact as the law of habit. If two or more 
 ideas are often repeated in conjunction the repetition 
 will make a firm bond of association, and the more 
 frequent the repetition the stronger will be the result-
 
 l32 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 ing bond, and the more certain is the awakening of 
 the rest of the series upon recurrence of any one 
 member. "The closest associations, such as those 
 between vocal actions and the resulting sound, words 
 and the things named, the movements of expression 
 and the feelings expressed, are the result of innumer- 
 able conjunctions (repetitions of acts) extending 
 throughout life."* 
 
 The more frequently we have seen a play, or heard 
 an oratorio, or read a poem, or written out a certain 
 sentence, the easier will it become for the mind after- 
 wards to run over the series of associated things. 
 The effect of the repetition is to produce a powerful 
 tendency for the mind to pass from one thing to the 
 next in a series of associated impressions or concepts. 
 In this way is produced also the power of anticipa- 
 tion. If B has frequently followed A, and C, B, and 
 so on to the end of the series, the recurrence of B is 
 sure not only to be immediately followed by C, but 
 will also cause the mind to anticipate succeeding 
 members of the series, as M, N, etc., so that the mind 
 is able to look onward to what is coming as well as 
 to attend to what is passing. When a pupil is learn- 
 ing a new tune he fixes in his mind, one by one, the 
 successive notes as he hears the tune sung or played, 
 or performs the act himself. By often going over the 
 same thing, the mind, on recurrence of the first notes, 
 moves on easily to the following ones, and even fore- 
 casts what ones are to come after. Suppose we are 
 listening to an opera. Here are several concurrent 
 series of ideas, the orchestral accompaniment, the 
 singing of the text by the prima donna, the actions 
 of the supporting players, the shifting stage scenery, 
 * Sully, "Outlines of Psychology."
 
 RECENCY AND VIVIDNESS. 133 
 
 etc. The more frequently we have witnessed the same 
 performance, the more readily will the recurrence of 
 any one part, e. g., a particular strain of the orches- 
 tral accompaniment, recall other associated parts, 
 e. g., a particular turn in the text, a brilliant stage 
 display, or a striking pose by some actor. The effect 
 of it all is to bind together the several elements into 
 one complete whole. 
 
 3. The Law of Interest. This means that a stronger 
 bond of association is formed between things that 
 appeal powerfully to our feelings than those that are 
 indifferent. Those things which interest us most are 
 the ones most firmly linked together by association 
 and the ones most apt to return to consciousness. 
 The principle of interest depends on several circum- 
 stances. Among these may be mentioned that of 
 recency. In most cases we are more interested in what 
 has recently happened than in events which belong 
 to the distant past. To be sure, recency alone does 
 not determine the matter of greatest interest and 
 firmest association. Vividness is also a powerful fac- 
 tor. What is exceedingly vivid necessarily makes a 
 deeper impression and interests us more than what is 
 ordinary. Halleck mentions the example of a person 
 who had just left the shelter of a tree, when the tree 
 was torn into pieces by lightning. Afterwards when- 
 ever it began to thunder an image of that tree came 
 before him. Though there had been thousands of 
 other objects associated in his experience with thun- 
 derstorms, he always would think of that particular 
 experience because of its great vividness. The sigh- 
 ing of the wind among the pine needles always calls 
 up to the author's mind his first view of Yosemite 
 Valley from "Inspiration Point," because that sound
 
 134 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 was vividly associated with the awful panorama un- 
 folded to view from that particular spot. A heavy 
 nimbus cloud always brings into my mind "Punch 
 Bowl," an extinct volcanic crater in the rear of Hono- 
 lulu, because while sitting on the rim of the crater one 
 day, such a cloud having disengaged itself from the 
 great cloud-mass in the rear and having unobserved- 
 ly drifted around and in front, by and by poured itself 
 out in a copious rain shower between the observer 
 and the city down below. It was such a surprise, such 
 a novel' occurrence in my experience, and the whole 
 scene was so vividly impressed that the place men- 
 tioned and that particular form of cloud are perma- 
 nently associated in my thought. The chirping of the 
 cricket in autumn time brings to mind a certain open 
 grave in an out-of-the-way, desolate, neglected bury- 
 ing ground in the corner of a field. That was the first 
 grave I had seen. My childish fancy was highly 
 wrought upon. Seeing the grave under such circum- 
 stances and hearing, in the stillness and loneliness of 
 the place, the solemn, measured chirp of the cricket, 
 the scene was most vividly impressed on my mind and 
 the two things to this day are inseparably associated. 
 So everyone can recall similar examples in his own 
 experience, just as striking and perhaps more inter- 
 esting than any that have been mentioned. "The 
 experiences of childhood often throng the memory of 
 old age, because they were so vivid they deeply af- 
 fected the plastic brain cells and left there an unfail- 
 ing impress." 
 
 When Joseph Haydn, a boy eight years old, was 
 studying at the Hamburg school, George Reutter 
 Capellmeister of the Cathedral of St. Stephen's in 
 Vienna, passed that way in search of boys' voices for
 
 INFLUENCE OF HEREDITY. 135 
 
 his choir. He examined young Joseph. Placing a 
 canon before the boy, he asked him to sing it at sight 
 and Haydn obeyed with so much readiness and cor- 
 rectness of ear and tone that Reutter was delighted. 
 While Haydn was singing Reutter observed that the 
 boy cast longing glances at a plate of cherries on the 
 table, and throwing a handful into his cap he said, 
 "Well done, you little rascal!" Haydn used to say 
 afterwards that he never saw a plate of cherries with- 
 out thinking of that day and occasion, which proved 
 so important in his career. 
 
 We see how strong a factor personal interest is in 
 determining the current of association. When we 
 understand this principle thoroughly, we can easily 
 explain many strange experiences in our lives. Those 
 ideas are most likely to return to consciousness on a 
 given occasion which have previously appealed most 
 powerfully to our feelings; hence, if any one of the 
 series of impressions is reawakened the other associ- 
 ated members are sure to reappear. 
 
 The facts of heredity may be selected farther to 
 illustrate our subject. What heredity does in our 
 mental life is quite similar to the facts of association 
 explained on the basis of nervous and mental predis- 
 position. The same laws seem to govern both classes 
 of phenomena; we may infer, therefore, that their 
 causes are similar, if not identical. For example, "to 
 the son of a drunkard, a glass tumbler or bottle is 
 likely to suggest saloons, liquors, drinking carousals, 
 etc. The son who has inherited a preference for art 
 will think or dream most often of objects connected 
 with art. The daughter of a musician is likely to 
 have the greatest facility in recalling ideas connected 
 with music."
 
 136 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 Heredity is not everything, as Mr. Galton in his 
 book on the subject claims, but it is a great factor in 
 determining mental bias or the current of associa- 
 tion. Bach's father and brothers were musicians and 
 his ancestors for generations back were of a musical 
 turn of mind. Mozart's father was a professor of 
 music. Weber's father was a man of musical taste 
 and of some skill in the same direction. No little part 
 of Mendelssohn's peculiar bent and all the merit of 
 his earlier musical training must be accredited to his 
 highly cultured mother. Raphael's father was a 
 painter of considerable reputation in his day. John 
 Wesley's ancestors for four generations had been 
 scholarly churchmen. Yan Dyck, the master of por- 
 trait painters, was particularly fortunate in his par- 
 entage, his father having been a painter on glass and 
 his mother a painter of landscapes, from whom also 
 he received his earliest art instructions. James 
 Watt's love for tools and his mechanical dexterity 
 may be traced to his father. The father of Palissy, 
 the noted Huguenot potter, was a tile-maker and a 
 worker hi clay. Edmund Burke's father was an at- 
 torney of prominence in Dublin. And so we could 
 multiply examples indefinitely, all of which are highly 
 suggestive in the line of our remarks on heredity 
 and association. We say heredity and association, 
 because if the facts in both cases could be traced back 
 to their primary cause, perhaps we should find that 
 they rest on the same basis. If we were to go outside 
 of human psychology and enter that exceedingly fas- 
 cinating field of animal psychology, just now attract- 
 ing so much attention, we should find many very 
 strong confirmations of this view. 
 
 A change in our emotional states may change the
 
 VOLUNTARY ATTENTION. 137 
 
 direction of our associations. The following example, 
 suggested by Halleck, will serve to illustrate. An 
 idea, A, is often followed by an idea, S, one day and 
 by L the next day. I pass a certain farm on Monday, 
 and I think of a pear tree in the orchard, while on 
 Tuesday, passing the same farm, I think of the well 
 behind the house. Why this change in the direction 
 of association? On Monday, when I passed the farm 
 I was hungry, and therefore, the picture of the tempt- 
 ing fruit, which I had previously plucked from that 
 particular tree, came into my mind. On Tuesday, I 
 was thirsty, and therefore, the well, from whose cool 
 depths I had previously slaked my thirst, was the 
 first to come into my thought. If we carefully note 
 all the circumstances connected with the flow of our 
 ideas we shall have little difficulty in explaining the 
 peculiar facts of association. 
 
 4. The Law of Voluntary Attention. Attention may 
 also be mentioned as one of the secondary laws of 
 association. If the attention has been strongly fixed 
 by an act of will on some particular ideas in a series, 
 these ideas are thereby strengthened and will have 
 the precedence in the reproduction of the series. The 
 greater the mental effort we put forth in centering 
 the attention on some particular thing, the greater 
 is the probability, other things equal, that the con- 
 cept of that thing will return to consciousness in 
 preference to others. If we read the poetry of Shakes- 
 peare, Milton, or Tennyson in a listless way, that is, 
 without giving much mental energy to the exercise, 
 but few ideas from these authors will find a perma- 
 nent place in our concept-mass, and they will have 
 little power to direct the stream of association in our 
 literary life. If we play the compositions of Bach
 
 138 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 and Haydn with feeble attention, they will have 
 little influence to enrich our music life with inspiring 
 suggestions. 
 
 The Educational Bearing of (Association. 
 
 The facts and laws of Association have important 
 applications to education. For example, the prin- 
 ciple of interest may be used to good advantage in 
 dealing with the various subjects of instruction. Some 
 things appeal immediately to the pupil's interest, 
 while in the case of others, interest may be aroused 
 by associating them with things which are interesting 
 in themselves. There is a simple law which controls 
 the association of natural and acquired interests; if 
 the teacher understands this law he can make use of 
 it in causing the pupil to become interested in subjects 
 which in themselves are not interesting to him. Any 
 object not interesting in itself may become so by asso- 
 ciating it with some other object in which an interest 
 already exists. The two associated objects grow, as 
 it were, together; the interesting portion sheds its 
 quality over the whole, and thus things not interest- 
 ing in themselves acquire an interest which becomes 
 as real and as strong as that of any natively interest- 
 ing thing. 
 
 There is nothing that has so great interest in itself 
 to a man as his own personal self and its fortunes. 
 Hence, the moment a thing becomes connected with 
 the fortunes of one's self it becomes an interesting 
 thing to that person, however indifferent it ma y have 
 been before. This is a pedagogical principle of great 
 value. What should the teacher do with a pupil who 
 has no interest in a given subject which he is trying
 
 EDUCATIONAL ATMOSPHERE. 139 
 
 to teach the pupil? Our principle suggests that he 
 should begin with things in the line of the pupil's 
 native interest, and then gradually bring to his atten- 
 tion other things that have some immediate connec- 
 tion with the former. Then, step by step, he should 
 connect with these first objects and experiences the 
 later objects and ideas which he wishes to instil in 
 the pupil's mind. By associating the new with the 
 old, the natively interesting with the uninteresting, 
 he will be able by a little skill to surround the entire 
 system of things and of mental experiences with an 
 atmosphere of lively interest. 
 
 Then, too, there is suggested immediately the im- 
 portance of the atmosphere into which the life of the 
 child is cast and in which the educating process goes 
 on. The environment of the home and of the school- 
 room claims the earnest attention of the educational 
 philanthropist. 
 
 In the home and in the school-room are formed the 
 associations which in after life are to give direction 
 to the stream of ideas; here is formed the web of 
 character into which the incidents of life as woof are 
 to be woven. Plainly enough the guardians of our 
 homes and of our free schools have no moral right 
 to neglect the aesthetic condition of the place whence 
 starts the stream of life. It should be made attractive 
 both inside and outside. The most beautiful spot 
 should be selected, and then no expense or pains 
 should be spared in its suitable adornment. Thecity 
 school house should not be crowded in among other 
 buildings, but it should occupy a sufficiently large 
 open place, beautified with lawn and shrubbery and 
 flowers tastefully arranged. These things are silent 
 but powerful factors in the education of childhood,
 
 140 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 and are quite as important as books, charts, etc. If 
 the stream of association starts out from beautiful, 
 chaste, and elevating objects and surroundings, there 
 is less danger that it will turn aside afterwards into 
 filthy places. If an inspiring environment is impor- 
 tant to the birth and early life of a poet, it has simi- 
 lar value in the education of every soul. 
 
 "If children are daily surrounded by those influen- 
 ces that elevate them, that make them clean and 
 well ordered, that make them love flowers and pic- 
 tures, and proper decorations, they at last reach 
 that degree of culture where nothing else will please 
 them. When they grow up and have homes of their 
 own, they must have them clean, neat, bright with 
 pictures, and fringed with shade trees and flowers, 
 for they have been brought up to be happy in no 
 other environment."* 
 
 The mere looks of a schoolhouse and the surround- 
 ing playground have a wonderful influence on the 
 mind of the average child. Our railroad corporations 
 build beautiful station houses and set them in beauti- 
 ful garden plots, radiant with flowers and trees. The 
 rural schoolhouse, generally speaking, is depressing 
 and degrading in its character and influence. There 
 is nothing about it calculated to encourage or cul- 
 tivate a taste for the beautiful in nature or in art. 
 Yet this is the place and such the surroundings where 
 the stream of national life takes its start; as the 
 fountain, so will be the stream.** 
 
 Much is said in our day about the sanitary condi- 
 tion of school buildings, and certainly the subject 
 
 'Bulletin No. 160, Jan., 1899, Cornell University. 
 'Compare Article "The Schoolhouse Beautiful" in the Perry 
 Magazine, Jan., 1900.
 
 INFLUENCE OF ART IN EDUCATION. 141 
 
 deserves all the attention it is receiving and more, 
 too; but it is quite as important to look after those 
 conditions that will secure the aesthetic, moral, and 
 spiritual health of the children during the period of 
 training. It makes much difference what kinds of 
 pictures are hung upon the walls of our homes and 
 school rooms, or adorn the pages of our school 
 books; what kinds of ornaments we select for the 
 jewelry we wear upon our persons. 
 
 No one who understands the mighty influence of 
 these art-forms in the way of shaping taste and 
 directing the stream of association can doubt for 
 one moment their value as educational forces. Fill 
 the mind of childhood and youth with beautiful pic- 
 tures, chaste figures, elevating images, and you gain 
 in these an initial power of association which will do 
 much in carrying forward the development of charac- 
 ter in a safe channel and making the experiences of 
 subsequent life rich and interesting. One has said, 
 "Let me write the songs of a nation, and I care not 
 who makes the laws." With equal propriety and 
 truth we may say, Let me paint the pictures of a na- 
 tion, and the laws will make themselves. So the 
 power of literature consists not any more in the facts 
 it conveys than in the pictures of association it brings 
 into the mind. The power of a good book, apart 
 from the valuable information it imparts, in the way 
 of filling the mind with pure images as bonds of asso- 
 ciation with holy things and things helpful in right 
 thinking and right living, is greater than human 
 arithmetic can estimate. So on the other hand, the 
 vicious and depraving images and suggestions which 
 a bad book brings into the mind of the reader are
 
 142 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 among the most deadly forces in the hands of the 
 destroyer of souls. 
 
 Therefore, home life and school life should be made 
 interesting and helpful to youth. Youthful associa- 
 tions abide long years after the days of youth have 
 fled, and they leave their stamp upon the life we live, 
 whether we will it so or not. Early life should be 
 linked with that which is elevating and noble; with 
 good books, chaste pictures, pure images; with the 
 inspiring forms of nature, with mountains, fields, 
 brooks, trees, flowers, stars, the waterfall, the ocean. 
 As Phillips Brooks so beautifully has said, "You 
 must feel the mountains above you while you work 
 upon your little garden. " Or as the poet has said, 
 
 "To him, who in the love of nature holds 
 Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
 A various language: for his gayer hours 
 She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
 And eloquence of beauty; and she glides 
 Into his darker musings with a mild 
 And healing sympathy, that steals away 
 Their sharpness ere he is aware." 
 
 Relation to Music. And what is the relation of all 
 these things to music and musical education? Vastly 
 more vital than we realize. It is a serious thing what 
 kind of musical thought-associations we make. If 
 the reading of literature is a potent influence in gen- 
 eral education, so the study of musical compositions 
 and of musical literature is an equally powerful factor 
 in musical education. In both cases the same psy- 
 chological principle holds. 
 
 What power is there in music? All races of men 
 from remotest antiquity have felt the power of music, 
 and have acknowledged the same by giving special
 
 POWER OF MUSIC. 143 
 
 attention to it in their social, civil, and religious in- 
 stitutions. It has always been a subject of wonder, 
 and its marvelous power has given rise to many 
 legends and fables. Keference has already been made 
 to some of the stories of ancient mythology. Early 
 history abounds in similar wonders. Terpander re- 
 stored a rebellious people to their allegiance through 
 his melodies. Tyrtaeus aroused a whole army to 
 action by the sound of his flute. The legislators of 
 antiquity made use of music as a method and means 
 of government. Plato said that no change can be 
 made in music without a similar change being made 
 in the state, and that tones can be selected capable 
 of arousing malice, insolence, and their opposites. 
 He emphasizes the influence of the proper music on 
 the formation of character, and proceeds to specify 
 the general scales in which music should be written. 
 The high Lydian is plaintive, the Ionian and Lydian 
 are soft and convivial, the Dorian is the music of 
 courage, and the Phrygian of temperance. Aristotle 
 agrees in general but considers the Phrygian music 
 as exciting and orgiastic. The Lydian is a tone to 
 a tone and a hall higher than the Phrygian, and the 
 Dorian is a tone below the Phrygian. The Dorian is 
 a medium, easy pitch, neither too high nor too low, 
 and expresses a manly character and a full flow of 
 strength. What makes this difference of effect? 
 
 In the first place, it is true that the special melody 
 associated with each scale has much to do with the 
 case. There are many examples to show this. An- 
 other fact developed in the psychological laboratory 
 comes to our aid in explaining the phenomenon un- 
 der consideration. Music has a direct influence on 
 the will. The force of will varies according to what
 
 144 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 we hear, as well as what we feel and see. The 
 following experiment devised by Prof. Scripture, 
 shows this: "With the thumb-and-finger grip (ma- 
 king use of the Dynamometer) the greatest pressure I 
 can exert during silence is 4 kilos. When some one 
 plays the giants' motive from the 'Rheingold' my 
 grip shows 4% kilos.* The slumber motive from the 
 Walkiirie reduces the power to 3% kilos." This is an 
 exceedingly interesting and suggestive experiment, 
 and may give us a clue to the secret about the power 
 of music. It appears from experiments of this kind 
 that pitch alone has much to do with the effect pro- 
 duced by different scales. The strength of grip varies 
 with the pitch: tones of a moderate pitch, such as the 
 Dorian above mentioned, increase the power of the 
 grip, while very high or very low tones weaken it. 
 One thing, I think, is plain, and that is that the facts 
 of music may be explained on scientific ground and 
 that such explanation is to be sought for in the 
 field of psychology. That the various effects of music 
 are due ultimately to associated brain impressions 
 and associated thought-concepts is highly probable. 
 We know what influence martial music has upon 
 soldiers on the battle field. The Marseillaise (pro- 
 nounced mar'-sa'-yaz') helped to achieve the French 
 Kevolution. So "Ein' Feste Burg" has inspired 
 courage in the heart of many a soldier of the Cross. 
 
 Music has power to calm base passions, and bring 
 noble ones into play. As Pope sings in his "Ode on 
 St. Cecilia's Day": 
 
 "Music the fiercest grief can charm, 
 And fate's severest rage disarm: 
 Music can soften pain to eas.e, 
 Scripture, "The New Psychology," p. 221.
 
 BAGPIPE INCIDENT. 145 
 
 And make despair and madness please: 
 Our joys below it can improve, 
 And antedate the bliss above." 
 
 Gibbon, in the last volume of his "Decline and Fall 
 of the Roman Empire," observes that it is proved by 
 experiment that the action of sound, while accelerat- 
 ing the circulation of the blood, affects the human 
 frame more powerfully than eloquence itself. He then 
 cites the following anecdote, contained in an account 
 of a journey through England and Scotland. 
 
 According to the most ancient traditions, the bag- 
 pipe has always been the favorite instrument of the 
 Scotch, since it was first introduced into the country 
 at a very remote period, by the Norwegians. The 
 larger one figures in their battles, funeral processions, 
 weddings, and on other great occasions; the smaller 
 sized one is devoted to dancing music. Certain mar- 
 tial airs, called pibrocbs, produce the same effect on 
 the natives of the Highlands as the sound of trum- 
 pets does on their chargers, and sometimes even 
 miracles are performed almost equal to those attri- 
 buted to the music of Greece. 
 
 At the battle of Quebec, in 1768, while the British 
 troops were retreating in disorder, the commander 
 complained to a staff officer of Eraser's regiment, of 
 the bad behavior of his corps. "Sir," replied the lat- 
 ter with some warmth, "you made a great mistake in 
 forbidding the bagpipes to be played; nothing ani- 
 mates the Highlanders to such a degree, at the hour 
 of battle; even now they might be useful." "Let them 
 be played as much as you please," answered the 
 commander, "if that can recall the soldiers to their 
 duty." The musicians received the order to play the 
 favorite martial air of the Highlanders; as soon as 
 
 Psychology. 10
 
 146 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 the latter heard the familiar tones, they paused in 
 their flight and returned with alacrity to their post. 
 The influence of music on the physical organization 
 of animals and of man is very well known and writers 
 on the subject record many curious examples. Caba- 
 nis says: "There are peculiar combinations of sounds, 
 and even of single tones, that affect all the faculties 
 of sense; these, by their immediate action upon the 
 soul, arouse certain sentiments over which they seem 
 to have special power, in accordance with the primi- 
 tive laws of organization." Gretry mentions a sur- 
 prising effect of music on the heart and the circula- 
 tion of the blood. "I placed three fingers of the right 
 hand on the artery of my left arm, or on any other 
 artery in my whole body, and sang to myself an air, 
 the tempo of which was in accordance with the action 
 of my pulse; some little time afterward, I sang with 
 great ardor an air in a different tempo, when I dis- 
 tinctly felt my pulse quickening or slackening its ac- 
 tion to accommodate itself by degrees to the tempo 
 of the new air." Berlioz relates the effects produced 
 on him by hearing music of which he was particularly 
 fond, in the following graphic language: "Nothing 
 in the world could give an exact idea of the effect, to 
 any one who has never experienced it. My whole be- 
 ing seems to vibrate; at first it is a delightful pleas- 
 ure, in which reason does not appear to participate 
 at all. The emotions increasing in direct ratio with 
 the force or grandeur of the composer's ideas, pro- 
 duce, little by little, a strange agitation in the circu- 
 lation of the blood; my pulses beat violently; tears, 
 which usually give evidence of the crisis of a parox- 
 ysm, indicate only a progressive stage, and greater 
 excitement and agitation is to follow. When the
 
 PHYSICAL EFFECTS OF MUSIC. 147 
 
 crisis is really reached, there occur spasmodic con- 
 tractions of the muscles, a trembling in all the limbs, 
 a total numbness of the feet and hands, a partial 
 paralysis of the nerves of vision and hearing: I no 
 longer can see, and can hardly hear vertigo semi- 
 consciousness." The celebrated cant&trice Mali- 
 bran, on hearing for the first time Beethoven's sym- 
 phony in C minor at the Conservatory, was thrown 
 into such convulsions that she had to be carried from 
 the room. 
 
 The effects of music on man's moral and intellectual 
 nature are equally great and even more marvelous. 
 When King Saul was tormented by the evil spirit, 
 David touched his harp, and the king was comforted 
 and became calm again, for the evil spirit left him. 
 
 Dryden, in his famous ode, ''Alexander's Feast,"* 
 beautifully describes the power of music on the emo- 
 tions of men. The proud king is a mere plaything 
 in the hands of the skilful musician, who with his lyre 
 sways the changing passions at his will. 
 
 "Timotheus, placed on high 
 Amid the tuneful quire, 
 With flying fingers touched the lyre: 
 The trembling notes ascend the sky, 
 And heavenly notes inspire. 
 
 * * 
 
 With ravished ears 
 
 The monarch hears, 
 
 Assumes the god, 
 
 Affects to nod, 
 
 And seems to shake the spheres. 
 
 * * 
 
 The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung 
 
 *This poem was set to music by Handel in 1736.
 
 148 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; 
 
 Fought all his battles o'er again; 
 
 And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he Blew the slain. 
 
 The master saw the madness rise, 
 
 His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; 
 
 And while he heaven and earth defied, 
 
 Changed his hand, and checked his pride. 
 
 He chose a mournful muse, 
 
 Soft pity to infuse. 
 
 Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, 
 Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. 
 
 Now strike the golden lyre again; 
 A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. 
 Break his bands of sleep asunder, 
 And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. 
 Thus long ago, 
 
 Ere heaving bellows learned to blow, 
 
 While organs yet were mute, 
 
 Timotheus, to his breathing flute 
 and sounding lyre, 
 
 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire." 
 
 Music was recommended by the ancients as a cura- 
 tive agent, and not without cause. There are nu- 
 merous instances of diseases both of body and mind 
 treated, and relieved by skilfully combined sounds. 
 Coelius Aurelianus mentions a flutist who, by play- 
 ing in the Phrygian mode, could charm, as it were, 
 the diseased part, causing it to palpitate and trem- 
 ble. Bonnet says he has known several persons suf- 
 fering from gout who employed music as a means of 
 relief for acute pain, with entire success. Sauvages 
 mentions the case of a young man, who had been at- 
 tacked with intermittent fever, accompanied by vio- 
 lent headache; he could be soothed only by the sound 
 of a drum.
 
 CURATIVE INFLUENCE OF MUSIC. 149 
 
 Music has a favorable influence on digestion; hence, 
 the ground for the custom BO common in high life 
 of having music performed during feasts. Voltaire 
 hardly realized the full meaning of his witticism to 
 the effect that our purpose in going to the opera is 
 to promote digestion. Listening to good music is 
 undoubtedly the best mode of exercise that literary 
 persons necessarily leading a sedentary life can take. 
 Milton, the poet, philosopher, and musician, spent a 
 certain time every day after dinner in singing or 
 playing on some kind of instrument. Democritus in- 
 forms us that the sound of the flute is a remedy 
 against the plague. Celsus, speaking af the insane, 
 says, "We must quiet their demoniacal laughter by 
 reprimands and threats, and soothe their sadness by 
 harmony, the sound of cymbals or other noisy in- 
 struments." It is said that the Phrygian mode, full 
 of sweetness and vivacity, is admirably adapted to 
 those who are one moment overwhelmed with grief 
 and the next thrown into paroxysms of rage; while 
 the martial Dorian mode suits those who are given 
 to talking and behaving in a silly manner, and in- 
 dulging in bursts of meaningless laughter. 
 
 In the records of the Academy of Sciences at Paris, 
 the case is mentioned of an illustrious musician and 
 composer who was attacked by a violent fever, ac- 
 companied by continuous delirium. The third day of 
 his delirium he asked if he might hear a little con- 
 cert in his room. Bernier's cantata was sung. As 
 soon as he heard the first notes, his countenance be- 
 came calm, his eyes assumed a quiet expression, and 
 the convulsions ceased entirely; he shed tears of pleas- 
 ure, and the fever left him while the concert lasted, 
 but as soon as it was over he relapsed into his for-
 
 150 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 mer condition. After ten trials of the same treat- 
 ment a complete cure was effected. 
 
 Quarin relates an instance of epilepsy cured by mu- 
 sic. "One day the patient having been listening to 
 music when she felt the epileptic fit coming on, suffered 
 only the symptoms. Every time afterward that she 
 felt the approach of the paroxysm, the young girl 
 was placed so that she could hear music; and nature, 
 being thwarted, as it were, in its perverted tenden- 
 cies, lost finally the habit of convulsive movements." 
 A similar case is mentioned by Roger. A young lady 
 belonging to the department of La Drome suffered 
 from a nervous disease resembling catalepsy. The 
 sound of the violin relieved her in a surprising man- 
 ner, and if she had the good fortune to hear it before 
 the paroxysm was upon her, she was saved from it 
 entirely.* 
 
 If these things are true, what do they mean? Why 
 is music such a powerful agency? The secret lies deep 
 down in the silent workings of the brain-cells and of 
 the concepts in the concept-mass. The explanation 
 is to be sought in the inner thought-relations and 
 the associated sense-impressions awakened by the in- 
 coming sounds. If these phenomena rest on associa- 
 tion, the question comes back with intensified empha- 
 sis, What kind of music do you hear and learn? 
 What kind of thought associations does your musical 
 experience make? With what are you linking your 
 life with the stars, or with the trailing serpent? 
 What thoughts do the chords you hear awaken? 
 
 Surely, association is a serious thing in our life. We 
 are fearfully and wonderfully made bodily, mentally, 
 
 'For numerous other examples and a full treatment of the sub- 
 ject, see Chomet, "The Influence of Music on Health and Life."
 
 QUESTIONS. 151 
 
 spiritually. It becomes every one of us to ask, What 
 manner of being am I? What possibilities and prob- 
 abilities are involved in my composite nature? What 
 is my relation to the world in which I live and what 
 the relation of this life to that beyond the present? 
 I am a harp of ten thousand strings what are the 
 sounds from without that steal in through my senses 
 and awaken in my soul their sympathetic chords? 
 Those sounds determine in what direction and to 
 what goal the stream of my life shall flow. Those 
 sounds have associated with them the ever audible 
 and inspiring whisper of new and budding life, or else 
 the vacancy and despair of death. How vast the 
 importance that only sounds with hallowed associa- 
 tions sweep the strings of this mystic soul-harp! How 
 solemn the chimes that peal forth the changes of 
 human existence and human destiny! 
 
 "Oh, the clanging bells of Timel 
 How their changes rise and fall, 
 But in undertones sublime, 
 Sounding clearly through them all, 
 Is a voice that must be heard, 
 As our moments onward flee, 
 And it speaketh aye one word, 
 Eternity! Eternityl" 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. What is said of the strange workings of thought? Give 
 example. 
 
 2. What is meant by association? 
 
 3. Give example of a series of associated ideas. 
 
 4. What is said of dreams? Illustrate. 
 
 5. Explain the process of perceiving an apple. 
 
 6. Explain the physiological basis of association.
 
 152 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 7. How are the general laws of association classified? 
 
 8. State and explain the Law of Contiguity. 
 
 9. Distinguish between facts of coexistence and of succession. 
 Illustrate. 
 
 10. Give example about memorizing Gray's Elegy, and what 
 does it teach? 
 
 11. Give cerebral explanation of the facts of Contiguity. 
 
 12. What is meant by summation of stimuli? Give example. 
 
 13. What is meant by total recall and partial recall? 
 
 14. Give the clock example. 
 
 15. Explain the Law of Correlation. 
 
 16. Give examples from etymology. 
 
 17. How associate the key signatures? 
 
 18. Why should concepts be associated according to the natural 
 relation of things? 
 
 19. Give example from Mrs. Radcliffe. What does it show? 
 
 20. What is said of logical association? Illustrate. 
 
 21. Why is it difficult to memorize the Proverbs of Solomon? 
 
 22. Name varieties of inner relations. 
 
 23. Give examples of correlates. 
 
 24. What is said about the search for causes? 
 
 25. What of causes in the study of Harmony? 
 
 26. What benefit to the student in learning causes? 
 
 27. What is a student? 
 
 28. Explain Plato's definition of a man. 
 
 29. Why is broad general knowledge important to music 
 students? 
 
 30. State the Law of Repetition. Illustrate. 
 
 31. How is the power of anticipation produced? Illustrate. 
 
 32. Explain the process of coupling notes in a piece of music. 
 
 33. State the Law of Interest. 
 
 34. Show effect of vividness. Give examples. 
 
 35. What is said of heredity in connection with association? 
 Give examples. 
 
 36. How may a change of emotional state change the direction 
 of association? Illustrate. 
 
 37. State the Law of Voluntary Attention. 
 
 38. Why is close attention necessary? 
 
 39. How are we slaves of association? 
 
 40. How is the principle illustrated in the case of fashions? 
 
 41 . Ho w may the principle of association be practically applied?
 
 QUESTIONS. 153 
 
 42. What is said of the home and school room environment? 
 
 43. Show influence of pictures as educative factors. 
 
 44. What about the influence of literature? 
 
 45. Value of association in musical education? 
 
 46. Examples of the power of music? 
 
 47. Use of music in legislation. 
 
 48. Give Plato's saying about music. 
 
 49. Show influence of pitch on the power of grip. 
 
 50. Give the bagpipe illustration, and what does it show? 
 
 51. Give examples to show effect of music on the bodily organs? 
 
 52. Effects of music on man's moral and intellectual nature? 
 
 53. What of music as a curative agent? Give examples. 
 
 54. On what ground are these effects to be explained? 
 
 55. Why is association a serious thing?
 
 jj4 MEMORY. 
 
 CHAPTER Till. 
 Memory. 
 
 MEMORY is that faculty of mind by which we re- 
 tain the knowledge of previous thoughts, im- 
 pressions, or events, and by which such knowl- 
 edge is recalled after it has once dropped from con- 
 sciousness. An act of memory involves several 
 particulars. There is, first of all, the fact of reten- 
 tion. When any impression has once been made in 
 the sensitive nerve-center, when the mind has once 
 been the recipient of any facts from without, or has 
 had experience of any thought, or feeling, or volition, 
 such inward experiences, though vanished from con- 
 sciousness, are not obliterated they are retained. 
 No fact that has ever come into the mind, no concept 
 that has ever orginated in the mind, in short, not a 
 single item of mental experience can ever be annihi- 
 lated, though it may never return to consciouness, 
 any more than the mind itself can be annihilated. 
 Once in mind always in mind; there is, therefore, no 
 art of forgetting, however poor our memory may be. 
 A second presupposed fact is that of recall, or re- 
 production. Retention alone is not memory; there 
 must be a recall or return of past experiences, of van- 
 ished percepts and concepts, into consciousness. Re- 
 tention may be called the passi ve side, and recall the 
 active side, of memory. Besides these, there are some 
 other general facts involved in an act of memory. 
 For instance, there is present the element of personal
 
 PHYSICAL BASIS OF MEMORY. 155 
 
 recognition. Not simply is there a revival of some 
 image or copy of an original experience, but the 
 image is an image of my own past experience, and 
 not that of another person. The fact recalled must 
 be thought of as my past experience. Then, too, the 
 image must return just as it was experienced, not 
 modified in any way by imagination, neither added 
 to nor diminished; and it must stand in its proper 
 time and space relations. Such are the general facts 
 involved in memory. 
 
 Physiological Basis of Memory. What was said in the 
 chapters on Habit and Association should be here re- 
 called, for the facts there developed constitute the 
 foundation of our present inquiry. "The machinery 
 of recall is the same as the machinery of association, 
 and the machinery of association, as we know, is- 
 nothing but the elementary law of habit in the nerve- 
 centers" (James). 
 
 Attention has been called to the property oiplastic- 
 ity in nervous substance, by virtue of which an im- 
 pression made upon a nerve or nerve-center leaves in 
 the nerve substance a permanent effect as nervous 
 disposition. We have seen also that this property of 
 plasticity lies at the bottom of that acquired skill 
 which results in learning things, so that without con- 
 scious choice or effort we perform such acts as seeing, 
 hearing, talking, walking, singing, piano-playing, 
 writing, etc. The principle, which underlies and con- 
 ditions these acts and makes it possible to advance 
 in any art, here comes into view as that on which 
 memory depends. 
 
 "The physical basis of memory, as retentive, is laid 
 in the habit, or acquired tendency, of the elements of 
 the nervous system. This tendency has respect both
 
 !tj6 MEMORY. 
 
 to the individual elements and to the association of 
 groups of these elements. Each element, speaking 
 figuratively, may be considered as a minute area in- 
 tersected by an indefinite number of curves of differ- 
 ent directions and order. Thus a molecular commo- 
 tion in any such area may run out into the system 
 along any one of innumerable curves."* 
 
 Retenfiveness. The physiological theory of memory 
 assumes that memory depends upon a persistent 
 disposition, or tendency of movement created in the 
 brain. There are numerous other theories, but as a 
 physiological basis, the one just stated has the ad- 
 vantage, and we hesitate not to give it our preference. 
 This of course does not mean that we commit our- 
 selves to that materialistic style of thought which 
 sees in memory nothing but the physical property of 
 plasticity in the brain substance; memory ultimately 
 is a faculty of the soul and not merely a property of 
 matter. We mean that memory as a faculty of the 
 soul depends upon brain disposition as a means of its 
 operation hi the material body. By virtue of the in- 
 timate connection between the soul and the body, the 
 soul in its spiritual activities adapts itself to bodily 
 conditions. It is these bodily conditions that experi- 
 mental psychology has to do with. What the activ- 
 ities of pure spirit are in themselves is a problem of 
 metaphysics and does not belong here. What the 
 soul is in itself and in its pure modes of activity 
 psychology, at least in its present stage, cannot de- 
 termine. What such terms as "brain disposition," 
 "pathway of discharge, "etc., may mean in respect to 
 the essence of the soul we do not know; we use these 
 terms as a basis for the explanation of psycho-physi- 
 
 * Ladd, -'Outlines of Physiological Psychology."
 
 NATIVE DIFFERENCES OF MEMORY. 157 
 
 cal phenomena, such as make up the stream of con- 
 sciousness and properly come within the scope of our 
 investigation. 
 
 Memory being conditioned on brain-paths and 
 brain-disposition, its excellence in a given individual 
 depends, partly on the number and partly on the per- 
 sistence of these paths. The persistence of the paths 
 is a physiological property of brain tissue, while their 
 number is due to the range of experience. The native 
 degree of persistence differs very greatly in different 
 individuals and also in different stages and conditions 
 of the same individual. Some men's minds are like 
 wax which yields readily to the seal and retains in- 
 definitely the images stamped upon it no impres- 
 sions, however disconnected one from the other, are 
 wiped out, but retain their outline sharp and distinct. 
 Others are like jelly, which vibrates to every touch, 
 but retains no permanent mark. Minds of the latter 
 class recall their past experiences with great difficulty, 
 while those of the former class remember names, dates, 
 figures, anecdotes, gossip, poetry, quotations, notes, 
 and all sorts of miscellaneous facts with the utmost 
 ease. 
 
 The activity of memory is greatest in childhood, 
 when the brain substance has the highest degree of 
 plasticity. This is also the period when the great 
 bulk of the materials for subsequent mental develop- 
 ment is stored away in the memory to be brought 
 out and elaborated into a connected thought-system. 
 In the first three to five years the child, in addition 
 to the use of all its organs and faculties, learns to 
 know numberless things, together with their various 
 qualities, and to arrange them into groups and series. 
 Jean Paul has said, "Man learns more in the first
 
 158 MEMORY. 
 
 three years of childhood than in the three years of 
 college life." We might say that a child learns more 
 in the first ten years of its existence than in all the 
 remaining years of a long life-time. Childhood is the 
 period when the mechanical phase of memory pre- 
 dominates, when everything that offers itself is 
 accepted without asking much about the "how" or 
 the "why." The activity of memory reaches its max- 
 imum at about the age of twelve, after which it grad- 
 ually declines. "With the close of childhood, in the 
 twelfth year, the orbis pictus of the man's world of 
 observation, except certain additions reserved for a 
 later age, is closed and laid down in memory; the 
 grammar and vocabulary of the mother tongue are 
 learned, the child is at home in its environment. Col- 
 ors, tones, names, numbers, persons, things all are 
 written upon the tablets of the memory."* 
 
 Then comes the period of equilibrium, when we can 
 do no more than hold our own. In the age of man- 
 hood memory is stationary. The gathering time is 
 past, the period for the free application in indepen- 
 dent judgments and conclusions of what was formerly 
 gathered is at hand. In middle age one learns a new 
 language only with great difficulty, retains names 
 and numbers only with much labor. At this time the 
 old memory-paths fade out about as rapidly as new 
 ones are made in the brain. The decline of memory 
 in this period is connected with the decreasing sensi- 
 tiveness of the nervous substance, so that in part 
 the long past impressions of childhood even now 
 make themselves felt with greater vividness than the 
 newly gained perceptions of this period. 
 
 "In old age the activity of memory shows a rapid 
 
 * Lindner, "Empirical Psychology."
 
 FACILITY OF RECALL. 
 
 159 
 
 decline. The old is forgotten, the new is not retained. 
 Only the most important events, only the concepts 
 most frequently in consciousness emerge like islands 
 out of the universal flood of forgetfulness. It is also 
 true that the very aged man remembers the events of 
 his childhood more vividly than those which lie only 
 a year or two behind him" (Lindner). The brain- 
 paths are so transient that "in the course of a few 
 minutes of conversation the same question is asked 
 and its answer forgotten a half dozen times." The 
 plasticity of the old man's brain substance is nearly 
 spent, analogous to the wood-fibre of a dry stick of 
 timber. 
 
 Facility of Recall. The readiness with which past ex- 
 periences are recalled depends, other things equal, 
 upon the number of paths made in the brain by a 
 wide range of experience or by manifold associations. 
 This idea is illustrated by the following figure, 
 adapted from James: 
 
 Let D be some past 
 event which it is desired 
 to recall; a, b, c, d . . o 
 some facts associated 
 with it, and m some pres- 
 ent thought or fact which 
 may become the occasion 
 or cue for the recall of n. 
 LetA,B,C,D,M,N...O 
 be the nerve-centers cor- 
 responding respectively 
 to a, b, c, d, 777, D . . . o facts. Then A N, B N, C N, 
 D N, M N, N, are so many brain-paths leading 
 to the centre N; so also A B N, A B C N, A B 
 C D N, etc., in the various ways of grouping,
 
 l6o MEMORY. 
 
 according as any given present fact is directly con- 
 nected with the event to be recalled, or indirectly as- 
 sociated with it. 
 
 Now, the more there are of such brain-paths as 
 A N, B N, etc., bearing in upon the center N, and 
 the greater the number of facts associated directly 
 or indirectly with the fact D, which is to be revived, 
 the promter and surer on the whole will be the recall 
 of D; the greater the number of things by which one 
 is reminded of the fact to be recalled, the more ave- 
 nues of approach to it one will possess and the greater 
 facility he will have of recalling his past experiences. 
 
 In the words of Prof. James, "The more other facts 
 a given fact is associated with in the mind, the bet- 
 ter possession of it our memory retains. Each of its 
 associates becomes a hook to which it hangs, a means 
 by which to fish it up, when sunk beneath the surface. 
 Together they form a network of attachments by 
 which it is woven into the entire tissue of our thought. 
 The secret of a good memory is thus the secret of 
 forming diverse and multiple associations with every 
 fact we care to retain. But this forming of associa- 
 tions with a fact, what is it but thinking about the 
 fact as much as possible? Briefly, then, of two men 
 with the same outward experiences and the same 
 amount of mere native tenacity, the one who thinks 
 over his experiences most, and weaves them into sys- 
 tematic relations with each other, will be the one with 
 the best memory."* 
 
 We see from all this the need of a coherent concept- 
 system. Facts and thoughts should stand associated 
 in the mind according to their inner logical relations, 
 and not in a fantastic manner. Whether we have a 
 
 * James, "Psychology."
 
 EFFECTS OF PATHOLOGIC CONDITIONS. l6l 
 
 good memory or not depends very much upon the 
 manner in which we learn the things we wish to re- 
 member, and not altogether upon native endowment. 
 The facts and concepts which make up our soul-life 
 should, therefore, stand in a logically coherent sys- 
 tem. Every new thing we learn should take its proper 
 place in our growing concept-mass, bound by natural 
 bonds to the facts already in. In a system, every fact 
 is connected with every other fact by some definite 
 thought-relation. Hence every fact so posited in the 
 mind is easily recalled by the combined suggestive 
 power of all the other facts in the system. 
 
 Effects of Pathologic Conditions. That the theory 
 above unfolded is in the main correct, receives addi- 
 tional confirmation from certain pathologic condi- 
 tions of the body. The effects of disease and of the 
 destruction of parts of the brain, upon the memory 
 are such as to suggest, if not conclusively prove, the 
 physiological basis of memory. In cases of injury to 
 the head, persons are known to have forgotten their 
 own names, their native language, everything they 
 ever knew. A certain Mr. Tenent having fallen into a 
 comatose state, and later on into apparent death, on 
 recovering, found that he had lost all knowledge of 
 his past life, and was obliged to commence again the 
 study of the alphabet. After some time his former 
 knowledge suddenly returned to him, as if some 
 physical impediment which obstructed the flow of 
 thought, had been just then removed. 
 
 The case of Mezzofanti (Giuseppo Gaspardo born 
 at Bologna, 1774; Professor of Arabic hi the Universi- 
 ty of Bologna, 1797; librarian to the Vatican, Rome, 
 1833; made a cardinal, 1838; died, 1849) is in point 
 here. He had an extraordinary memory; before the
 
 162 MEMORY. 
 
 close of his university career he had mastered the 
 Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, Coptic, Spanish, French, 
 German, and Swedish languages. He could speak 
 fluently in thirty languages, and was acquainted in 
 various degrees with seventy-two! When he was in- 
 stalled as cardinal he received congratulations from 
 fifty-three members of the Propaganda, to which he 
 responded, each hi his own tongue. A brief attack of 
 fever had the effect to blot out completely his knowl- 
 edge of the seventy-two languages with which he was 
 acquainted. His memory was entirely suspended; he 
 had lost apparently all his vast stores of knowledge. 
 By and by, upon recovery from the diseased condition 
 of his brain, his memory was restored. The case does 
 not illustrate a "blotting out" of impressions which 
 needed to be imprinted anew on the substance of the 
 brain, but only a temporary obstruction to the use 
 of that which was really in possession. 
 
 Sometimes disease has the reverse effect it brings 
 back to mind what has long since been forgotten. 
 Coleridge cites the case of a German servant girl, who 
 in sickness was heard repeating passages of Greek, 
 Latin, and Hebrew, of whose meaning she had not 
 the least idea. The mystery was solved when it was 
 ascertained that she had formerly been in the home of 
 a learned Rabbi, who was in the habit of repeating 
 aloud, as he walked in his study, favorite quotations 
 from the Iliad, the Aeneid, and the Hebrew Bible. 
 Dr. Rush mentions the case of an Italian who died in 
 New York; in the beginning of his sickness, he spoke 
 English; in the middle period, French; but on the day 
 of his death, nothing but Italian. A Lutheran clergy- 
 man of Philadelphia told Dr. Rush that it was not 
 uncommon for the Germans and Swedes of his con-
 
 CASE OF ORPHAN GIRL. 163 
 
 gregation, when near death, to speak and pray and 
 repeat portions of the catechism in their native 
 tongues, which some of them had probably not used 
 for fifty years and which they had completely for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Dr. Abercrombie, a distinguished physician of Edin- 
 burgh, hi a treatise entitled "Inquiries Concerning the 
 Intellectual Powers of Man and the Investigation of 
 Truth," reports the folio whig very remarkable case: 
 "A girl aged seven years, an orphan of the lowest 
 rank, residing in the house of a farmer, by whom she 
 was employed in tending cattle, was accustomed to 
 sleep in an apartment separated by a very thin parti- 
 tion from one which was frequently occupied by an 
 itinerant fiddler. This person was a musician of con- 
 siderable skill, and often spent a part of the night in 
 performing pieces of a refined description; but his 
 performance was not taken notice of by this child ex- 
 cept as a disagreeable noise. After a residence of six 
 months in this family she fell into bad health, and 
 was removed into the house of a benevolent lady, 
 where on her recovery after a protracted illness, she 
 was employed as a servant. 
 
 Some years after, she came to reside with this lady. 
 The most beautiful music was often heard in the 
 house during the night, which excited no small inter- 
 est and wonder in the family; and many a working 
 hour was spent in endeavors to discover the invisible 
 minstrel. At length the sound was traced to the 
 sleeping-room of the girl, who was found fast asleep, 
 but uttering from her lips a sound exactly resembling 
 the sweetest tones of a small violin. On further ob- 
 servation it was found that, after being about two 
 hours in bed, she became restless and began to mut-
 
 164 MEMORY. 
 
 ter to herself; she then uttered sounds precisely re- 
 sembling the tuning of a violin, and at length, after- 
 some prelude, dashed off into elaborate pieces of mu- 
 sic, which she performed in a clear and accurate man- 
 ner, and with a sound exactly resembling the most 
 delicate modulations of that instrument. During the 
 performance she sometimes stopped, made the sound 
 of retuning her instrument, and then began exactly 
 where she had left off in the most correct manner. 
 
 These paroxysms occurred at irregular intervals, 
 varying from one to fourteen or even twenty nights; 
 and they were generally followed by a degree of fever, 
 and pains over various parts of her body. 
 
 After a year or two, her music was not confined to 
 the imitation of the violin, but was often exchanged 
 for that of a piano of a very old description, which 
 she was accustomed to hear in the house where she 
 now lived; and she then also began to sing, imitating 
 exactly the voices of several ladies of the family. In 
 another year from this time she began to talk a great 
 deal in her sleep, in which she seemed to fancy herself 
 instructing a young companion. She has been known 
 to conjugate correctly Latin verbs which she had 
 probably heard in the school-room of the family; and 
 she was once heard to speak several sentences very 
 correctly hi French, at the same time stating that 
 she heard them from a foreign gentleman whom she 
 had met accidentally in a shop. Being questioned on 
 this subject when awake, she remembered having seen 
 the gentleman but could not repeat a word of what 
 he said. During the whole period of this remarkable 
 affection, which seems to have gone on for ten or 
 eleven years, she was, when awake, a dull, awkward 
 girl, very slow in receiving any kind of instruction,
 
 SIGNIFICANCE OF PATHOLOGIC CASES. 165 
 
 though much care was bestowed upon her; and, in 
 point of intellect, she was much inferior to the other 
 servants of the family. In particular she showed no 
 kind of turn for music. About the age of twenty-one 
 she became immoral in her conduct, and was dis- 
 missed from the family. It is believed that she after- 
 ward became insane. 
 
 What significance have these facts to the psycholo- 
 gist? They strongly suggest the physiological basis 
 of memory. They show that changes in the bodily 
 state are accompanied by corresponding changes in 
 the condition of memory. In the words of another, 
 "The adult brain is a system of vastly intricate and 
 interrelated molecular mechanism. It has been dur- 
 ing its entire history, in the process of vital organiza- 
 tion of these intricate interrelations. The particular 
 brain-processes concerned in each act of reproduction 
 all fall under the laws which control the general 
 biological process of perpetual organization. 
 
 The mental phenomena are a series of related 'cir- 
 cuits of consciousness,' overlapping and fading into 
 each other. The brain-processes are a succession of 
 related nerve-commotions in centres contiguous and 
 distant, also overlapping and fading into each 
 other."* 
 
 Personal Element in Memory. When we have referred 
 the phenomena of retention and recall to a physio- 
 logical basis, and perhaps have succeeded in giving a 
 reasonably satisfactory explanation, there is still 
 something in the nature of memory which cannot be 
 explained on this hypothesis. There is an "unex- 
 plored remainder," which escapes the physical tests 
 of the biologist; there is the personal element, the 
 
 * Ladd, "Outlines of Physiological Psychology."
 
 l66 MEMORY. 
 
 conscious recognition of facts and events as my own 
 experiences, which is the grand peculiarity, the pro- 
 found mystery, of memory, an element grounded in 
 spiritual being, an affair of mind, a characteristic of 
 personality. 
 
 The teachings concerning organic memory are 
 doubtless true so far as the organism is concerned, 
 i. e., considering the brain as an instrument of mind 
 in the function of memory; but behind the instrument 
 is the user of the instrument. In the user of the in- 
 strument, in the agent conditioning the agency 
 stands the personal element, the conscious recogni- 
 tion implied in every act of memory, the truly dis- 
 tinctive part of memory; and this is spiritual, per- 
 sonal. 
 
 The remembered past must be attributed to some 
 ego, some mind, some personality. There is no 
 memory-image, that does not involve the conscious 
 recognition of that particular image, as representa- 
 tive of its own past, by the same mind. Conscious 
 recognition, as truly as retention and recall, belongs 
 to memory as a psychical fact. But conscious recog- 
 nition as a psychical fact implies a conscious ego, a 
 personal self, a spiritual power, a soul in freedom. 
 "We cannot even conceive of the nature of the physi- 
 ological process which would serve as an 'explana- 
 tion' in any sense of the word but for this character- 
 istic of recognition, this self-appropriation as belong- 
 ing to the past of the same ego, or mind, which en- 
 ters into all conscious memory. All that any physio- 
 logical process could possibly explain, in case we 
 knew its nature most completely, would be why I re- 
 member one thing rather than another granted the 
 inexplicable power of the mind to remember at all
 
 VARIETIES OF MEMORY. 167 
 
 (i. e., to recognize consciously the present state as 
 representative of its own past). This power is a spir- 
 itual activity wholly sui generis, and incapable of be- 
 ing conceived of as flowing out of any physical condi- 
 tion or mode of energy whatever." 
 
 Varieties and Ponders of Memory. There are many 
 varieties of memory, and writers on the subject re- 
 cord many examples of its extraordinary develop- 
 ment. Some are characterized by a remarkable 
 power to remember names. Themistocles could call 
 by name all the citizens of Athens, when that city 
 numbered over 20,000 inhabitants. Cyrus according 
 to Pliny knew the name of every soldier in his vast 
 army. Dr. Stewart mentions the case of a young 
 Corsican at Padua, who could repeat, without hesita- 
 tion, 36,000 names in the order in which he heard 
 them, and then reverse the order and proceed back- 
 ward to the first. 
 
 Pontius Latro could repeat verbatim every speech 
 he had ever heard in the Roman senate. 
 
 Some memories are remarkable for their power of 
 holding figures and using them in performing difficult 
 mathematical operations. Dr. Wallis of Oxford, one 
 night in bed, proposed to himself a number of fifty- 
 three places, and found its square root to twenty- 
 seven places, and, without writing anything down, 
 dictated the result twenty days afterward. It was 
 not unusual for him to perform mathematical opera- 
 tions in the dark, e. g., extracting roots to forty deci- 
 mal places. 
 
 The distinguished Euler, blind from early life, had 
 always in his memory a table of the first six powers 
 of all numbers, from one to one hundred. On one oc- 
 casion two of his pupils, calculating a converging
 
 l68 MEMORY. 
 
 series on reaching the seventeenth term found their 
 results differing by one unit at the fiftieth figure and 
 in order to decide which was correct, Euler went over 
 the whole in his head, and his decision was found 
 afterward to be correct. 
 
 Then there are those who possess extraordinary 
 power to retain and recall dates, facts, things, inci- 
 dents, etc. Pascal, the distinguished French author, 
 never forgot anything he had read or heard or seen. 
 Perhaps the most remarkable case is that of Maglia- 
 bechi, librarian to the Duke of Tuscany. He could 
 inform any one who consulted him not only who had 
 treated directly of any particular subject, but also 
 who had indirectly touched upon it in treating of 
 other subjects, to the number of perhaps one hundred 
 different authors, giving with the greatest exactness 
 the name of the author, name of the book, the words, 
 often the page, where they were to be found. 
 
 To test his memory, a gentleman of Florence lent 
 him once a manuscript which he had prepared for the 
 press, and, some time afterwards, went to him with a 
 sorrowful face and pretended to have lost his manu- 
 script by accident. The poor author seemed incon- 
 solable, and begged Magliabechi to recollect of it 
 what he could, and write it down for him. He assured 
 the unfortunate man that he would do so, and setting 
 about it, wrote out the entire manuscript without 
 missing a word! 
 
 He had also a wonderful local memory. He knew 
 where every book in the great library stood. One 
 day the Grand Duke sent for him to inquire if he 
 could procure a book which was very scarce. "No, 
 sir," answered Magliabechi, "it is impossible; there is 
 but one in the world; that is in the Grand Seignior's
 
 MOZART'S MEMORY. 169 
 
 library at Constantinople, and is the seventh book, 
 on the seventh shelf, on the right band as you go in." 
 
 Some men have an extraordinary musical memory. 
 The example of young Mozart writing out in full the 
 Miserere of Allegri is well known. The Miserere is a 
 part of the service used in the Pope's chapel in Home, 
 sacredly guarded and kept with great care in the 
 archives of the chapel. Any singer found tampering 
 with this Miserere of Allegri, or giving a note of it to 
 an outsider, would be visited by excommunication. 
 Only three copies of this service have ever been sent 
 out. One was for Emperor Leopold, another to the 
 King of Portugal, and the third to the celebrated 
 musician, Padre Martini. 
 
 But there was one copy that was made without the 
 Pope's orders, and not by a member of the choir 
 either. 
 
 When Mozart was taken to Rome in his youth, by 
 his father, he went to the service at St. Peter's and 
 heard the service in all its impressiveness. Mozart, 
 senior, could hardly arouse the lad from his fascina- 
 tion with the music, when the time came to leave the 
 cathedral. That night after they had retired and 
 the father slept, the boy stealthily arose and by the 
 bright light of the Italian moon, wrote out the whole 
 of that sacredly guarded Miserere. The Pope's locks, 
 bars and excommunications gave no safety against a 
 memory like Mozart's. 
 
 Another instance is mentioned of this master's 
 power of memory. He had promised to write a 
 piano and violin sonata for Mad. Schlick, the great 
 violinist. Instead of attending to his promise, he 
 went to work on other things, and postponed the 
 sonata until a few days before the concert, when the
 
 170 MEMORY. 
 
 new work was to be played. Mozart then composed 
 the sonata in B flat major, and had the entire work 
 ready in his mind, but still delayed the odious task 
 of writing it down. A day before the concert the lady 
 was terrified, having not yet received the manuscript 
 from the composer. She at once sent a servant to 
 remind him of his duty, whereupon Mozart hastily 
 wrote out the violin part and sent it to the lady. In 
 the concert, however, he played his own part from 
 memory, having never played it before. 
 
 There are musicians who remember as many as 
 twenty, thirty, and even forty operas, each of which 
 would fill an evening. The blind flutist Dullon knew 
 125 concertos by heart and distinguished each by a 
 certain number. 
 
 Charles Wesley could play the whole of Handel's 
 numerous choruses from memory. Samuel Wesley 
 has given many remarkable instances of a similarly 
 retentive memory; one of the most remarkable may 
 be mentioned. In his early days he composed an 
 oratorio consisting of a score of upward of three 
 hundred closely written manuscript pages. It was 
 afterwards performed at one of the Birmingham 
 festivals. Returning to London the composer was 
 robbed of his portmanteau, which contained this 
 work, and he never again heard of its contents. 
 Nearly twenty-five years afterward, at the soli- 
 citation of a friend, he commenced to write it out 
 afresh, which he did with the greatest facility, stating 
 that he saw the score in his mind's eye as accurately 
 and distinctly as if it lay before him.* 
 
 Cultivation of Memory. That there are great initial 
 differences among individual memories in respect to 
 
 Gates, "Anecdotes of Great Musicians."
 
 MEMORY MAY BE CULTIVATED. 17! 
 
 facility of recall is a matter of common observation. 
 Some are naturally gifted with a fine memory while 
 others must struggle all their life time to retain what 
 they have gained. As Locke has said, "In some per- 
 sons the mind retains the characters drawn on it like 
 marble, in others like freestone, and in others little 
 better than sand." But whether a memory be good 
 or faulty, it is capable of cultivation to an indefinite 
 degree. A man never knows his possibilities until he 
 tries. No one, however poor his memory may be, 
 needs to despair, for by proper training the poorest 
 of memories may be indefinitely improved. Prof. 
 Norton H. Townshend of the Ohio Agricultural Col- 
 lege, at the age of five years received an injury from a 
 fall by which his memory was almost destroyed. 
 What he had learned before had to be acquired again. 
 A lesson carefully prepared was forgotten before reci- 
 tation time. When sent on an errand he had to re- 
 turn to ask what he had been sent for. Driven almost 
 to despair by such experiences, he set about a system- 
 atic course of memorytraining, and in process of time 
 succeeded so well that he surpassed all his companions 
 in power of memory. Thurlow Weed, the famous 
 journalist, relates that his memory was like a sieve. 
 He set about improving his memory, and at length 
 attained a power as remarkable as was his previous 
 weakness. His method was the simple but effective 
 one of recalling every night what he had done during 
 the day. 
 
 As to the best means and methods of memorytrain- 
 ing there is great diversity of opinion. Numerous 
 books have been written on the art of improving the 
 memory, and various schemes have been devised for 
 that purpose; but many of them are based on partial
 
 172 MEMORY. 
 
 or erroneous views of the true principles of memory, 
 and are, therefore, of little or no real value, tending 
 rather to distort than to improve and strengthen 
 the memory. Every true method must be based on 
 an intimate knowledge of the nature of memory, and 
 the principles on which it acts. 
 
 When we remember that all progress in knowledge, 
 in fact, our whole psychic life, depends on memory, we 
 can understand how important its proper cultivation 
 is. Dr. Hering says: "It seems that we owe to 
 memory almost all that we have or are; that our 
 ideas or conceptions are its work, and that our 
 every perception, thought and movement is derived 
 from this source. Memory collects the countless 
 phenomena of our existence into a single whole .... 
 Our consciousness would be broken up into as many 
 fragments as we have lived seconds but for the bind- 
 ing and unifying force of memory." 
 
 According to Prof. Bain, "memory is the faculty 
 that most of all concerns us in the work of educa- 
 tion .... All improvement in the art of teaching de- 
 pends on the attention that we give to the various 
 circumstances that facilitate acquirement or lessen 
 the number of repetitions for a given effect." 
 
 The following suggestions will be found helpful in 
 memory culture: 
 
 First, Proper Physical Conditions. If memory has a 
 physiological basis, and if the facts stated in the 
 paragraph on pathologic conditions have any signifi- 
 cance, it follows that a sound physical state is the 
 first condition of a good memory. Whatever affects 
 the general health must also affect the memory. In- 
 digestion, a torpid liver, headache, weariness of body, 
 a vitiated atmosphere, insufficient nourishment, etc.,
 
 PROPER PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 173 
 
 all affect the condition of the brain and in a degree 
 also the memory. 
 
 There must be a sufficient supply of good healthy 
 blood, and its free circulation must not be impeded. 
 All mind action and brain action is connected with 
 the flow of blood. When there is intense brain action 
 a powerful current of blood is sent into that organ 
 to supply fresh material and carry off the worn-out 
 cells. The "balancing experiment" shows this. The 
 human body is very delicately balanced in a horizon- 
 tal position, while the mind is in a state of indifferent 
 activity. If now in this condition of perfect equipoise 
 the subject's mind is suddenly excited, the head end 
 of the body is found to go down, showing that an 
 increased quantity of blood has been brought into 
 the brain. The same thing is shown also in other 
 ways. The phenomena of paleness in the face by 
 fainting, of blushing, of cold feet while studying hard, 
 etc., are indirect proofs of the varying blood distri- 
 bution according to the degree of mental activity. 
 
 That these physical conditions indirectly affect the 
 memory is reasonably certain. A man with a natur- 
 ally fine memory was taken sick, and, on recovering, 
 he suffered for nearly a year from feeble heart action. 
 During this time he complained of not being able to 
 remember scarcely anything. As soon as his heart 
 action became normal he regained his usual vigor of 
 memory. Isaac Taylor says, "that this organic 
 mental faculty of memory, as at present possessed 
 even by the most highly favored individuals, is sus- 
 ceptible of much enhancement and extension, merely 
 by an improvement of the corporeal constitution." 
 A normal exercise of the memory supposes an active 
 circulation and blood rich in the materials necessary
 
 174 MEMORY. 
 
 for integration and disintegration" (Th. Ribot). 
 "Disturbances to the memory may arise from too 
 feeble circulation through the brain as well as from 
 over-excitement or congestion of the blood there" 
 (SirH. Holland). 
 
 When the body is fresh and vigorous, plentifully 
 supplied with healthy arterial blood, impressions are 
 easily made, and are usually lasting. But when the 
 body is exhausted by fatigue, or suffers from want of 
 nourishment or impoverishment of blood, the im- 
 pressions will be slight and made with difficulty. 
 Bodily vigor is thus the foundation of agood memory. 
 It is true that some persons of feeble body have pos- 
 sessed powerful memories; but a person in health al- 
 ways remembers better than when weakened by 
 disease. 
 
 Therefore, pay attention to the laws of hygiene. 
 Keep the health of the body at the high water mark. 
 Take sufficient exercise and exercise of such a kind as 
 will call into action every muscle and every nerve of 
 the whole body. It is a mistake to sit in your room 
 a whole day long trying to memorize a piece of mu- 
 sic, till you become weary and nervous. Go out some- 
 times and engage in some kind of physical exercise, it 
 does not matter much what it is, until the blood is 
 made to course through every vein and artery and 
 capillary, and the flush of new life comes into your 
 cheeks. Then, after a few moments of rest, resume 
 your task and you will accomplish far more than 
 you could possibly do by the painful process of con- 
 tinuous poring; and, what is still better, you will 
 train your memory in the right way, so that you will 
 retain far more easily what you learn. Avoid all 
 kinds of dissipation, and the use of stimulants to
 
 CLEAR PERCEPTION NECESSARY. 175 
 
 brace up a depleted nervous system. Every advan- 
 tage gained by resorting to such practices is only 
 temporary and at the expense of the delicate nervous 
 tissue. In the end the effect is to lower the bodily 
 tone and weaken the memory. 
 
 Secondly, Clear Perception. Whether a given idea or 
 fact will be easily recalled depends largely upon the 
 way the fact is learned. If the perception is indistinct 
 and the mental image vague, it will soon fade from 
 memory. Indistinctness of mental image, haziness 
 of perception, lies at the root of many a bad memory. 
 Learn to see and hear things sharply and accurately. 
 That which is treasured up and recalled in memory 
 is the impression made upon the mind itself by the 
 sensation of idea, and unless this is clear and distinct 
 that which is recalled will be imperfect. Therefore, 
 we must attend carefully to the formation of the 
 original impression. "When the impression that is 
 formed in the mind is clear, distinct, and vivid, it will 
 be readily reproduced with much of its original 
 character and force; but when, on the other hand, it 
 is indistinct, hazy, ill-formed, it will be recalled with 
 difficulty, and only in a very imperfect manner."* 
 Anyone can easily verify these statements by his own 
 experience. That which we have observed most 
 sharply, we recall most easily. Objects distinctly be- 
 held are longest retained in the mind and most readily 
 recalled. 
 
 Cultivate the visualizing habit, i. e., make every con- 
 cept stand out with the distinctness and complete- 
 ness of a sharply formed image. When you memor- 
 ize a piece of music, make the notes and bars and 
 lines stand forth like a picture in the mind; then also 
 
 *Kay, "Memory: What It IB, and How to Improve It."
 
 176 MEMORY. 
 
 the auditory image of the sounds should be as sharp 
 as that which appears to the eye. Photograph, as it 
 were, on the retina measure after measure, page after 
 page with such distinctness and accuracy that after- 
 wards you can repeat their contents note for note 
 and word for word, just as if you were reading them 
 from the printed page. This in turn will form a brain 
 habit of remembering things pictorially, and hence 
 more exactly and with greater interest. "The best 
 workmen," says Sir Francis Galton, "are those who 
 visualize the whole of what they propose to do be- 
 fore they take a tool in their hands." The remark is 
 applicable also to the musician; he should have a 
 clear image of the notes before attempting to play or 
 sing them. 
 
 In the same connection it should be observed that 
 the first impression of an object made on the mind is 
 of special importance in respect to memory. Novelty 
 generally awakens interest, and when an object is 
 perceived under the excitement of heightened interest, 
 it usually makes a lasting impression. If curiosity is 
 strongly excited about a thing it becomes readily 
 fixed in the memory. "As a rule the mind looks upon 
 a thing with more interest, and its curiosity is more 
 excited concerning it on its first appearance than on 
 any subsequent occasion. Hence, the first occasion 
 of an impression reaching the mind is always the 
 most favorable for fixing it in the memory. Each 
 subsequent recurrence of it renders it more familiar 
 to the mind, which is therefore less curious about it; 
 and, besides, the repeated appearance of the same 
 impression under different circumstances tends to 
 diminish the clearness and distinctness of the origin- 
 al." Mr. Galton observes "that the first image most
 
 RATIONAL ASSOCIATION. 177 
 
 people have acquired of any scene is apt to hold its 
 place tenaciously in spite of subsequent need of correc- 
 tion .... If they see an object equally often in many 
 positions, the memories combine and confuse one an- 
 other, forming a composite blur which they cannot 
 dissect into its components. They are less able to 
 visualize the features of intimate friends than those 
 of persons of whom they have caught only a single 
 glance." 
 
 Thirdly, Rational Association. In the chapter on As- 
 sociation this principle was fully explained. It re- 
 mains here simply to point out its application to the 
 memory and to memory training. When things 
 are rationally associated in one's concept-mass, that 
 is, according to their inner thought-relations, such as 
 those of cause and effect, instrument and use, means 
 and end, etc., they are more easily retained and re- 
 called than when not so associated. If we reflect on 
 the fundamental facts of association we shall see the 
 reason for this. Each new mental acquisition should 
 be linked by some logical thought-relation to old 
 facts already in the mind. Order and classification 
 of facts to be remembered are necessary. "Nothing," 
 says Prof. Blackie, "helps the mind so much as order 
 and classification. Classes are always few, individ- 
 uals many; to know the class well is to know what is 
 most essential in the character of the individual, and 
 what burdens the memory least to retain." 
 
 Hence, the need of a concept-system in regard to 
 everything we learn and wish to retain. Facts 
 thrown together into the mind in a state of isolation 
 and confusion are hard to recall; besides, the habit of 
 doing so weakens the power of memory. The wise 
 
 Psychology. 12
 
 178 MEMORY. 
 
 man brings things into his mind in their right rela- 
 tions; he insists upon order and classification in his 
 knowledge; facts are grouped according to their 
 genera and species, and nothing lies loose in his 
 mind. 
 
 In the following example quoted by Prof. Gordy, 
 from "Tate's Philosophy of Education," notice 
 the effect on memory of grouping ideas according to 
 their natural relations: 
 
 "Betty," said a farmer's wife to her servant, "you must go to 
 town for some things. You have such a bad memory that you 
 always forget something, but see if you can remember them all 
 this time." "I'm very sorry, ma'am," said Betty, 'that I've such 
 a bad memory, but it's not my fault; I wish I had a better one." 
 "Now mind," said her mistress, "listen carefully to what I tell you. 
 I want suet and currants for the pudding." "Yes, ma'am, suet 
 and currants." "Then I want leeks and barley for the broth, 
 don't forget them." "No, ma'am, leeks and barley; I shan't for- 
 get." '"Then I want a shoulder of mutton, a pound of tea, a 
 pound of coffee, and six pounds of sugar. And as you go by the 
 dressmaker's, tell her she must bring out calico for the lining, 
 some black thread and a piece of narrow tape." 'Yes, ma'am," 
 says Betty, preparing to depart. "Oh, at the grocer's get a jar of 
 black currant jam," adds the mistress. The farmer who has been 
 quietly listening to this conversation, calls Betty back when she 
 has started, and asks her what she is going to do in the town. 
 "Well, sir, I'm going to get tea, sugar, a shoulder of mutton, cof- 
 fee, coffee let me see, there's something else." "That won't do," 
 said the farmer; "you must arrange the things as tha parson does 
 his sermon, under heads, or you won't remember them. Now, 
 you have three things to think of breakfast, dinner and dress- 
 maker," "Yes, sir." "Whatare you going to get for breakfast?" 
 ''Tea and coffee and sugar and jam," says Betty. "Where do you 
 get these things?" "At the grocer's." "Very well. Now, what 
 will be the things put on the table at dinner?" "There'll be broth, 
 meat and pudding." "Now, what have you to get for each of 
 these?" "For the broth I have to get leeks and barley, for the 
 meat I have to get a shoulder of mutton, and for the pudding I
 
 THE EVIL OF CRAMMING. 179 
 
 must get suet and currants." "Very good. Where will you get 
 these things?" "I must get the leeks at the gardener's, the mut- 
 ton and suet at the butcher's, and the barley and the currants at 
 the grocer's." "But you had something else to get at the gro- 
 cer's." "Yes, sir, the things for breakfasts-tea, coffee, sugar and 
 jam." "Very well. Then at the grocer's you have four things to 
 get for breakfast and two for dinner. When you go to the grocer's 
 think of one part of his counter as your breakfast table and 
 another part as your dinner table, and go over the things wanted 
 for breakfast and the things wanted for dinner. Then you will 
 remember the four things for breakfast and the two for dinner. 
 Then you will have two other places to go for the dinner. What 
 are they?" "The gardener's for leeks, and the butcher's for meat 
 and suet." "Very well. That is three of the places. What is the 
 fourth?" "The dressmaker's to tell her to bring out calico, 
 thread and tape for the dress." "Now," said the master, "I think 
 you can tell me everything you are going for. ' ' ' 'Yes' ' , said Betty, 
 "I'm going to the grocer's, the butcher's, and the gardener's. At 
 the grocer's I'm going to get tea, coffee, sugar, and jam for 
 breakfast, and barley and currants for dinner. But then I shall 
 not have all the things for dinner, so I must go to the butcher's 
 for a shoulder of mutton and suet, and for leeks to the gardener's. 
 Then I must call at the dressmaker's to tell her to bring lining, 
 tape and thread for the dress." Off goes Betty and does every- 
 thing she has to do. "Never tell us again," said her master, "that 
 you can't help having a bad memory."* 
 
 Cramming, that is, preparing a lesson by commit- 
 ting 'points' to memory simply for the sake of reci- 
 ting them brilliantly, is a bad mode of study, and 
 weakens the memory. Habits of continuous, persis- 
 tent application should be enforced, whereby the 
 mind grows in a normal way. The lesson must be 
 studied for the purpose of gaining general mental 
 strength, and then also the memory will be strength- 
 ened in the same proportion. Nothing is better as a 
 means for improving the memory than general intel- 
 ligence and systematic study. If the memory is to be 
 
 *Gordy, "Lessons in Psychology."
 
 l8o MEMORY. 
 
 retentive, there must be given it something to do; it 
 grows strong by exercise, just as the muscles of the 
 athlete grow by persistent use. Fill the mental store- 
 house with facts of knowledge, not crammed into the 
 mind, but thoroughly studied. 
 
 It is vain to rely on artificial methods, such as are 
 usually set forth under systems of mnemonics; after 
 all, there is only one way, and that is hard study, 
 thorough, earnest study. One lesson thoroughly and 
 perfectly understood, one etude mastered in all the 
 points of its contents, will do you more good than ten 
 lessons or ten etudes superficially gone over or mechan- 
 ically crammed into the mind. Without careful study 
 there is no mental growth, no progress in unfolding 
 the potentialities of the soul. Other things may be 
 seized on by might, or purchased by money; but 
 knowledge is to be gained only by study. 
 
 "Learning by heart" is not memory-training; it 
 tends to a mechanical habit of committing words, 
 not ideas, to memory. As Locke says, "Learning by 
 heart, I know not what it serves for but to misspend 
 the time and pains of pupils, and give them a disgust 
 and aversion to their books." Pope in the "Dunciad" 
 thus satirizes this practice: 
 
 "Since man from beast by words is known, 
 Words are man's province, words we teach alone." 
 
 In a similar strain Shakespeare makes two of his 
 characters say: 
 
 "What do you read, my lord?" 
 "Words, words, wordsl" 
 
 Hamlet, Act II. 
 
 Committing simply words and notes without at 
 the same time associating with them the ideas they 
 stand for, has little disciplinary value and certainly
 
 GIVE CLOSE ATTENTION. l8l 
 
 is time lost and energy spent in vain. Gain ideas, 
 gain knowledge of the piece you are memorizing and 
 of the composer. Study, really study, the masters, 
 and observe with what a sweep of thought they 
 range over the field of their subject. That kind of 
 mental exercise agrees with the nature of the 
 mind and strengthens the memory. "Never be 
 satisfied with the surface of things; probe them to 
 the bottom, and let nothing go till you understand 
 it as thoroughly as your powers will enable you. If 
 you are working on a classic composition, while you 
 are learning the outward form of it as it appears to 
 the eye and ear, learn also the secret thought, the 
 informing soul, that speaks through the outward 
 form." It may be a slow and, perhaps, at first a 
 tedious process, but it yields excellent results. Good 
 memory is good knowing. The great thing in memory 
 training is to give the memory plenty of logically 
 associated ideas to hold. "Memory exercised is 
 memory trained." 
 
 Fourthly, Close Attention. Attention is necessary for 
 the cultivation of memory. Perhaps the defects of 
 memory, of which most persons complain, are due 
 more to the want of attention than to any other 
 cause. It is a matter of universal experience that 
 what we attend to we remember, but what we do not 
 attend to we readily forget. By attention (attendo, 
 to stretch towards) is meant that attitude or state 
 of mind by which its energy is voluntarily fixed upon 
 some one particular object or act or idea, to the ex- 
 clusion for the time being of all other things. As the 
 etymology of the word suggests, an act of attention 
 implies an active exertion of energy, a concentration 
 of thought, an application of will; it therefore signi-
 
 l82 MEMORY. 
 
 fies that the soul is wide awake when it is in a state 
 of attention. 
 
 "Memory is very much influenced by attention or a 
 full and distinct perception of the fact or object, with 
 a view of its being remembered. "Dr. Abercrombie. 
 
 "It is a matter of common remark that the per- 
 manence of the impression, which anything leaves on 
 the memory, is proportioned to the degree of atten- 
 tion which was originally given to it." D. Stewart. 
 
 "The experiences most permanently impressed upon 
 consciousness are those upon which the greatest 
 amount of attention has been fixed." D. Gr. Thomp- 
 son. 
 
 "An act of attention, that is, an act of concentra- 
 tion, seems thus necessary to every exertion of con- 
 sciousness, as a certain contraction of the pupil is re- 
 quisite to every exertion of vision .... Attention, 
 then, is to consciousness what the contraction of the 
 pupil is to sight, or to the eye of the mind what the 
 microscope or telescope is to the bodily eye .... It 
 constitutes the better half of all intellectual power." 
 Sir William Hamilton. 
 
 "The force wherewith anything strikes the mind is 
 generally in proportion to the degree of attention be- 
 stowed upon it. The great art of memory is atten- 
 tion .... Inattentive people have always bad memo- 
 ries." Dr. J. Beattie. 
 
 From the nature of the case, the mind can attend 
 to but one thing at a time. According to Bain, a 
 plurality of stimulations of the nerves may coexist, 
 but they can affect consciousness only by turns, 
 or one at a time. "It is established by experience," 
 says M. Jouffroy, "that we cannot give our atten- 
 tion to two different objects at the same time." Sir
 
 ATTENTION TO ONE THING. 183 
 
 William Hamilton states this principle in the form of 
 a law, namely, "that the intension of our knowledge is 
 in the inverse ratio of its extension i.e., that the 
 greater the number of objects to which our conscious- 
 ness is simultaneously extended, the smaller is the 
 intensity with which it is able to consider each, and 
 consequently the less vivid and distinct will be the in- 
 formation it obtains of the several objects . . . When 
 our interest in any particular object is excited, and 
 when we wish to obtain all the knowledge concerning 
 it in our power, it behooves us to limit our consider- 
 ation of that object to the exclusion of others."* 
 
 There is a great variety of cases in which the mind 
 apparently exerts different acts of attention at one 
 and the same time; but knowing the incalculable 
 rapidity of the thought-processes, it is obvious that 
 all such cases may be explained without supposing 
 those acts to be coexistent. For example, in a con- 
 cert of music a good ear can attend to the different 
 parts separately, or can attend to them all at once, 
 and feel the full effect of the harmony. In this case, 
 however, the mind does not attend to several things 
 at the same time; but it constantly transfers its at- 
 tention from one part of the music to another, and 
 its operations are so rapid as to give us no percep- 
 tion of any interval of time between its separate acts. 
 Strong objections have, indeed, been urged against 
 this doctrine; but we think a close examination of all 
 the facts in the case will result in an affirmative 
 decision. 
 
 The power of attention, the power of fixing the 
 mind upon a particular object till it has been 
 thoroughly mastered, more than anything else dis- 
 
 *Hamilton, "Methaphysics," ed. by Bowen, p. 159.
 
 184 MEMORY. 
 
 tinguishes the man of genius from others. Indeed, 
 genius has been denned as "the power of concentra- 
 ting and prolonging the attention upon any given 
 subject." Sir Isaac Newton, in describing his method 
 of study, said: "I keep the subject continually 
 before me, and wait till the first dawning opens 
 slowly by little and little into a clear light;" and, when 
 complimented on his great discoveries, he modestly 
 replied, "that if he had made any improvements in 
 the sciences, it was owing more to patient attention 
 than to any other talent. ' ' On the other hand, the want 
 of power to hold attention upon any one thing for 
 any length of time is a mark of a weak mind. "Im- 
 beciles and idiots", says Esquirol, "are destitute of 
 the faculty of attention." According to an authority, 
 "one of the most constant and characteristic symp- 
 toms of coming insanity is a debilitated power of 
 attention . . . The growing deficiency of attention 
 points to a coming imbecility, and especially to an 
 impending attack of softening of the brain." 
 
 The bearing of all this upon the memory is apparent. 
 He who would have a powerful memory must be able 
 to concentrate his attention. Says Joseph Cook, 
 "Attention is the mother of memory, and interest is 
 the mother of attention." The evil of reading or play- 
 ing mechanically or automatically is immediately in- 
 ferred. When you read a book or play a piece of music 
 you must not allow the mind to fall into a passive 
 state, for that will weaken the memory. Persons who 
 never summon their will power to aid them in tracing 
 out the thought contained hi the composition in 
 hand, are sure to forget the next moment what they 
 learned the moment before. But this is not all; the
 
 REPETITION IMPROVES MEMORY. 185 
 
 worst of it is that the memory is thereby abused, in- 
 capacitated for better use. 
 
 Fifthly, Constant Repetition. As the ground of this 
 principle has already been fully explained in connec- 
 tion with the formation of habits we need not here 
 farther elaborate it. The fact is that simple repeti- 
 tion of an act causes that act to be more easily recall- 
 ed than one not so repeated. It is a law of our sys- 
 tem by which actions at first requiring much atten- 
 tion and effort are after frequent repetition perform- 
 ed much more easily, or even without conscious 
 effort. This is exemplified in various acts of daily 
 life, such as reading and writing, but in a most re- 
 markable degree in music. At first the notes must be 
 carefully scanned one by one as they stand upon the 
 staff, and the keys on the instrument must be hunted 
 out, and the placing of the fingers must be watched, all 
 of which is a slow and painfully conscious process; but 
 with frequent repetition of the same acts in the same 
 way facility is gamed, and by and by the most rapid 
 movements are performed with the minimum of at- 
 tention and effort. 
 
 Dr. Carpenter says: "The aptitude which is acquir- 
 ed by practice for the performance of certain actions 
 that were at first accompanied with difficulty, seems 
 to result as much from a structural change which the 
 continual repetition of them occasions in the muscles, 
 as in the habit which the nervous system acquired of 
 exciting movement." And Th. Ribot adds, "After 
 each action a muscle is better prepared for action, 
 more disposed to a repetition of the same work, and 
 readier to reproduce a given organic process." Thus, 
 what was at first accomplished with difficulty, by and 
 by becomes second nature, so that no effort is required
 
 l86 MEMORY. 
 
 to perform it. The effect of practice shows that the 
 more frequently the same fibres are thrown into ac- 
 tion, the easier does their action become. 
 
 Thus, strength of memory and of mind comes by 
 practice, just as strength of muscle is developed by 
 constant use. Milo, the Greek athlete, could carry 
 the ox on his shoulders, because earlier he carried the 
 calf day after day. He developed his extraordinary 
 physical strength by oft-repeated daily exercise; so 
 must strength of memory be cultivated, namely, by 
 patiently and persistently doing the same thing over 
 and over again. Nor should this be a blind repeti- 
 tion, a mere task exercise, a treadmill performance. 
 In proportion as it is done with thought and intelli- 
 gence, it can be made interesting and invigorating. 
 If we bring into our daily exercises a laudable ambi- 
 tion and resolute will to make the very best use 
 of our time and opportunities, it affords us real satis- 
 faction to find that with each day's routine of prac- 
 tice we are gaining in strength and facility and are 
 better prepared for the next step. By infusing interest 
 into our work we shall be able more and more ta 
 beguile our moments of toil, the drudgery of our 
 tasks, into pleasant occupation and invigorating ex- 
 ercises. This leads to the mention of, 
 
 Sixthly, The Principle of Interest. If interest can be 
 brought to the aid of memory, the battle is half won. 
 Boys, who apparently can remember nothing pertain- 
 ing to their studies, are able to recall with the utmost 
 ease and with perfect accuracy every move in a game 
 of base ball or a game of checkers, because they are 
 intensely interested in the game. 
 
 As a matter of experience, we know that whatever 
 we are deeply interested in we easily remember. When
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS AND STORIES. 187 
 
 the learner becomes interested in his music work he has 
 little trouble to remember what he has learned. Look- 
 ing at things from the standpoint of results ofttimes 
 has the effect to arouse interest hi things to which 
 otherwise we are indifferent. Thus, when students 
 discover that the study of psychology is a great ad- 
 vantage to them in the pursuit of their music studies, 
 they become interested in the subject. 
 
 The philosophy of illustrations in spoken and writ- 
 ten discourse rests, hi large part, on this principle of 
 interest. We know what effect a happy illustration 
 has to fix a given fact or statement in the memory. 
 By the use of illustrations we link abstract ideas with 
 concrete things. What we can see, hear, or touch, is 
 more interesting than what we try to hold in abstract 
 thought. On the same principle depends the use of 
 figures of speech, pictures, maps, charts, object les- 
 sons, etc. Teaching by parables and fables is another 
 example of the same kind. Who can forget the truth 
 taught by the parable of the sower, the good shep- 
 herd, the prodigal son? As long as the world stands 
 men will remember the beautiful parables, the mas- 
 terly word-pictures of our Saviour. So likewise the 
 familiar fables, such as those of the wolf and the lamb, 
 the fox and the sour grapes, the lion and the ass, 
 cling to our memory, when many other things fade 
 almost as soon as learned. 
 
 Here also is to be noted the use of stories in teach- 
 ing children. Story-telling is a great and useful art. 
 He who knows how to do this well is a good teacher 
 of children and youth. He who can lodge a great 
 truth in the mind of childhood by means of a good 
 story, invests that truth with a permanent interest
 
 l88 MEMORY. 
 
 and fastens it in the memory of the child never to be 
 forgotten. 
 
 Nora Archibald Smith has written a delightful 
 chapter on the importance of the story in child ed- 
 ucation, which we wish to recommend to all students 
 and teachers. She says: "As you follow the dusky 
 track of the twilight as it tiptoes round the world, in 
 land after land, you and the twilight together will 
 steal upon a little circle of children gathered about 
 the knees of a story-teller. . . . Earth is circled with 
 this vast company of story-tellers, nightly surround- 
 ed by their little ones, black, and white, and red, and 
 brown, and yellow; their eager, upturned faces and 
 eloquent voices all uttering the same plea, 'Tell us a 
 story! Oh, tell us a story!' 
 
 What is the secret of the charm which story-telling 
 has for the child? Is it not first, perhaps, the fact 
 that it interprets life wonderful, mysterious, fasci- 
 nating life to him, and places in his hand a sort of 
 telescope, through which he eagerly peers into the 
 world across the threshold of his nursery? Is it not, 
 again, that it addresses the imagination his domi- 
 nant power, his delight, his way of escape, that he 
 may be able to bear the dullness, the denseness, the 
 want of comprehension, of the grown-up world?"* 
 
 NOTE It is a matter for congratulation that in recent days the 
 use of stories has been introduced into music teaching. This prin- 
 ciple is happily illustrated in an exceedingly bright and beautiful 
 publication recently issued by Miss Nettie Delphine Ellsworth with 
 the title "Little Journey s in Melody Land." It is a step in the right 
 direction, and is one of the fruits of mind-study as applied to mu- 
 sic. It is to be hoped that others will be stimulated to use their 
 talents in the interests of childhood and music in the same direc- 
 tion. Another similar fruit of the study of Psychology in recent 
 
 * Nora Archibald Smith, "The Children of the Future."
 
 ADVANTAGE OF MEMORIZING MUSIC. 189 
 
 times ia the introduction of the Kindergarten method into the 
 musical instruction of children. "We see in all this how the prin- 
 ciple of interest is gaming ground in learning and teaching music. 
 
 The Pedagogical Value of Memorizing Music. In recent 
 times it has become the custom of many music teach- 
 ers to require their pupils to memorize most or all of 
 the lessons they recite. Also at concerts and recitals 
 it is customary to play without notes. This practice 
 has important pedagogical bearings, and from the 
 standpoint of psychology has many things to be said 
 in its favor. Too much stress cannot be laid on the 
 fact that memorizing leads to a closer study of the 
 best music, a more thorough comprehension of it, 
 and a more intelligent appreciation of what it con- 
 tains. 
 
 Then, too, this practice has an important influence 
 on technique, in that "it leads to ascertaining more 
 and more perfectly the precise points of difficulty 
 which hinder the easy performance of a given pass- 
 age." Difficulties are often overcome by memorizing 
 the passage in which they occur; in all cases they are 
 very much diminished. When the mind knows clear- 
 ly and certainly where it desires to carry the musical 
 thought, the fingers manage to perform their part. 
 We have before pointed out the necessity of having 
 thought behind the fingers in order that the fingers 
 may do their work to the best advantage, and here 
 now this doctrine finds both its application and illus- 
 tration. We know how important technique is in 
 playing. But the best technique is that which springs 
 from clear musical thought, from a mind well stored 
 with accurate knowledge and a heart overflowing 
 with tender emotion. In order to make use of 
 thought and feeling in the act of playing it is much
 
 better if the music has been memorized so that all of 
 the attention may be fixed on the contents of the piece. 
 
 In the way of correct musical perception and the 
 formation of a right musical style much could be said 
 in favor of memorizing. "A Bach fugue cannot 
 possibly be well played without memorizing until 
 after the pupil has acquired a great deal of experience 
 in this class of music; and even then the performance 
 of any fugue will be greatly improved by memorizing. 
 It will not be necessary to do much criticism, if the 
 piece is studied by a fairly competent pupil; merely 
 memorizing and the influence of the music itself will 
 transform the playing and render it definite and 
 effective. Such style-forming pieces as the Chopin 
 Etudes must also be memorized, if we want their full 
 effect. Pleasing pieces at all stages of the progress 
 are memorized for the convenience of having them 
 handy when one wants to play them; and for the ad- 
 ditional reason that this is part of the process of 
 completely learning them." 
 
 Without this thorough acquaintance with a piece 
 of classic music involved in the act of memorizing it, 
 the pupil is apt to have a poor perception of its 
 beauties, and his style of execution will be corre- 
 spondingly deficient. How, for instance, would an 
 actor get along in the impersonation of Hamlet or 
 Othello if he did not memorize his part? Before he 
 can take the first step towards a good style of acting 
 he must have a keen perception of what the piece con- 
 tains in all its relations, and this is possible only by 
 having the whole of it before his mind at once. There 
 is no other way of getting into the 'merits' of the 
 drama than by thoroughly memorizing it and then 
 studying each detail as he sees the piece in its entirety
 
 LIBERTY OF PERFORMANCE. IQI 
 
 before his mind. Before this is done it is not possible 
 for him to shut out of mind every other object, every 
 other idea, a condition so necessary for the highest 
 degree of dramatic power. The tragedian who can 
 so throw himself into his character or subject as to 
 be oblivious of everything but that, is the one 
 that is most natural and therefore moves the 
 audience most powerfully. It is said of Mrs. Siddons 
 that she was wont to throw herself into the character 
 of the person she was representing to such a degree 
 that she would lose sight of her own personality, 
 would become so completely engrossed in the part 
 she was playing, as to be, for the time, rather than 
 &ct, the character assumed. The same principle holds 
 in the performance of a great piece of music, and the 
 same reason for memorizing applies. A true style of 
 rendition cannot be otherwise formed. 
 
 Closely connected with this is another advantage 
 of memorizing music, namely, liberty of performance. 
 Listen to the words of Dr. Mertz: "Not only does it 
 enable him to afford pleasure to willing listeners at 
 any time or place, but by playing or singing without 
 the aid of notes, he is free, and is thereby enabled to 
 perform with more liberty and sentiment. The close 
 musical reader is fettered, a good share of his mental 
 activity is expended upon reading the notes, upon 
 observing expression marks, while, if he were free 
 from his bondage, he could throw his whole soul into 
 the performance. The musician who sings or plays 
 from memory is a second-hand improviser, he forgets 
 self, he lives in the music and not in the notes or in his 
 surroundings. This is the reason why musicians pre- 
 fer to play from memory, and it is the lack of this 
 faculty that keeps so many respectable players from
 
 soaring aloft on the wings of their imaginations. 
 The musician who plays from memory is as the bird 
 that flies unfettered; the musician, however, who is 
 tied to his notes, is as a bird that is tied to a 
 string."* 
 
 A few general hints may here be given. All rules 
 and practical hints as to musical memorizing must 
 be based on a knowledge of the human mind. He 
 who would use the mind, whether his own or that of 
 his pupil, must know the mind. We have seen that 
 the maximum of memory-development is reached at 
 the age of about twelve to fourteen years. The memo- 
 ry of youth is far more vigorous than that of more 
 advanced years. It follows that during this period 
 the memory should receive special attention. The 
 best time of the day for memory work is in the morn- 
 ing, because then the mind is free and the brain sub- 
 stance yields more readily to impressions. There is 
 sound practical wisdom in the German adage: 
 
 "Die Morgenstunde 
 Hat Gold im Munde." 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Define memory. 
 
 2. Name three elements involved in an act of memory. Ex- 
 plain each. 
 
 3. Describe the physiological basis of memory. 
 
 4. Explain the physical basis of retentiveness. 
 
 5. What is said of memory as a faculty of the soul? 
 
 6. On what does excellence of memory depend? 
 
 7. What is said of the native persistence in different people? 
 Illustrate. 
 
 8. When is the activity of memory greatest, and why? 
 
 * Mertz, "Music and Culture."
 
 QUESTIONS. 193 
 
 9. What of the chad's acquisitions in the first five to ten years 
 of its life? 
 
 10. When and what is the period of equilibrium? 
 
 11. What of memory in old age? Explain. 
 
 12. On what does facility of recall depend? 
 
 13. Explain diagram. 
 
 14. Give substance of quotation from James. 
 
 15. Show need of coherent concept-system in relation to 
 memory. 
 
 16. Object of referring to various pathologic cases? 
 
 17. Give case of Mr. Tennent, and what does it show? 
 
 18. Give case of Mezzofanti, and what does it prove? 
 
 19. What does the case of the German servant girl illustrate? 
 Give other similar cases. 
 
 20. Give case reported by Dr. Abercrombie. 
 
 21. What significance have these facts to the psychologist? 
 
 22. What is said of the personal element in memory? 
 
 23. What of varieties of memory? 
 
 24. Give examples of memories remarkable for the power of re- 
 calling names. 
 
 25. Give examples of memories remarkable for remembering 
 figures. 
 
 26. What does the case of Magliabechi illustrate? 
 
 27. What is said of Mozart's memory? Give examples. 
 
 28. Give example of Samuel Wesley. 
 
 29. Facts about ctiltivation of memory. 
 
 30. Show importance of memory-cultivation. 
 
 31. Quote Hering and Bain on importance of memory. 
 
 32. First suggestion for memory culture? Explain. 
 
 33. Explain relation of blood circulation to memory. 
 
 34. What need of observing the laws of hygiene? 
 
 35. Give second suggestion. Explain. 
 
 36. Explain the visualizing principle. 
 
 37. Importance of first impressions? Explain. 
 
 38. Quote Galton on the subject of first impressions. 
 
 39. State third suggestion for memory training. Explain the 
 principle. 
 
 40. What of order and classification of ideas? 
 
 41. Give example of "Betty," the servant girl. What does it 
 show? 
 
 Piyeholoffv. 13
 
 ig IMAGINATION. 
 
 42. What is said of cramming? 
 
 43. Fourth suggestion for memory training? 
 
 44. Define attention. 
 
 45. Show importance of attention. 
 
 46. Can the mind attend to more than one thing at a time? 
 
 47. Quote remark of Isaac Newton. 
 
 48. Fact about imbeciles and idiots? 
 
 49. Explain the evil of reading or playing mechanically. 
 
 50. Fifth suggestion for improving the memory? Explain the 
 principle. 
 
 51. Give saying of Carpenter and Ribot. 
 
 52. Effect of practice? 
 
 53. Explain the principle of interest. Illustrate. 
 
 54. Explain philosophy of illustrations. 
 
 55. Value of parables and fables? 
 
 56. What of stories as an educational agency? 
 
 57. Substance of quotation from Nora Archibald Smith. 
 
 58. Explain pedagogical value of memorizing music. 
 
 59. Further advantage of memorizing music? 
 
 60. Show influence of memorizing on technique. 
 
 61. Influence of memorizing on musical style? 
 
 62. Explain reference to the tragedian. 
 
 63. What does Mertz say about liberty of performance? 
 
 64. When should memorizing be done? 
 
 65. Why should a piece be memorized at the first study.
 
 IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Imagination. 
 
 IMAGINATION is that power of mind by which we form 
 I pictures of things not present. It is the power 
 of representing a mental product as an image. 
 As the name denotes, imagination is the image-mak- 
 ing, or image-showing faculty. The Germans call it 
 Einbildungskraft. According to Krauth and Fleming, 
 ''Vocabulary of Philosophy," "In the language of 
 modern philosophy, the imagination seems to denote 
 first, the power of apprehending or conceiving ideas, 
 simply as they are in themselves, without any view 
 to their reality; secondly, the power of combining into 
 new forms or assemblages, those thoughts, ideas, or 
 notions, which we have derived from experience or 
 from information." 
 
 Relation to Memory. Imagination stands in close re- 
 lation to memory in fact, depends on memory for 
 its materials. Memory holds and brings back our 
 past experiences just as they were without any modi- 
 fication. Memory is the faculty of unaltered repro- 
 duction, while imagination is the faculty of altered 
 reproduction. Memory is the grand storehouse from 
 which imagination draw r s the materials for its strange 
 creations. ' l Memory retains and recalls the past in 
 the form which it assumed when it was previously be- 
 fore the mind. Imagination brings up the past in 
 new shapes and combinations. Both of them are re-
 
 196 IMAGINATION. 
 
 flective of objects; but the one may be compared to 
 the mirror which reflects whatever has been before it, 
 in its proper form and color; the other may be likened 
 to the kaleidoscope which reflects what is before it in 
 an infinite variety of new forms and dispositions."* 
 Or as the poet puts it, 
 
 "Music, when soft voices die, 
 Vibrates in the memory; 
 Odors, when sweet violets sicken. 
 Live within the sense they quicken." 
 
 SHELLEY. 
 
 In memory the representation is judged to be of a 
 past experience; in imagination it is not so judged, 
 i. e., the objects of memory are facts of experience; 
 those of imagination may or may not be facts of ex- 
 perience, the question is not considered, the represen- 
 tation is in disregard of experience. "Imagination is 
 productive; memory is merely reproductive. The ob- 
 ject represented in memory is real; that represented 
 in imagination may be unreal. Memory is mediate 
 knowledge of the actual in the past; imagination is 
 mediate knowledge of the possible in the past, present 
 or future. Were this power wholly lacking, we should 
 be unable to devise for the future, or to anticipate 
 and provide for even the next coming moment. All 
 hope, all reasonable forecast of events, all inspired 
 prophecy, the history of the future, are wrougnt out 
 by imagination, and then become memories as time 
 flows by."** The following lines of Shelley mark the 
 distinction: 
 
 "You are not herel The quaint witch Memory sees 
 In vacant chairs, your absent images, 
 
 McCosh, "Typical Forms," p. 450. 
 * Davis, "Elements of Psychology," p. 199.
 
 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 197 
 
 And points where once you sat, and now should be, 
 
 But are not. I demand that if ever we 
 
 Shall meet as then we met; and she replies, 
 
 Veiling in awe her second-sighted eyes: 
 
 'I know the past alone but summon home 
 
 My sister Hope, she speaks of all to come.' 
 
 But I, an old diviner, who know well 
 
 Every false verse of that sweet oracle, 
 
 Turned to the sad enchantress once again, 
 
 And sought a respite from my gentle pain, 
 
 In acting every passage o'er and o'er 
 
 Of our communion." 
 
 LETTER TO MARIA GISBORNE. 
 
 Memory furnishes the materials paints, canvas 
 etc. desire gives the law or model, and imagination 
 paints the picture. Imagination is the power which 
 represents the elements of knowledge in modified 
 forms and in new combinations. Imagination, though 
 differing, as we have just seen, from memory, is not 
 separated from memory by any sharp line of de- 
 marcation. 
 
 Nature of the Constructive Imagination. While there are 
 several phases of imagination, we shall confine our- 
 selves to the constructive or creative phase. In what 
 sense is imagination creative? It never creates any 
 new materials all the materials for its workshop are 
 furnished by memory. Its creations are new combi- 
 nations of old materials; in this way it creates a 
 world of its own and peoples this new world with 
 beings ofttimes strangely unreal, yet always interest- 
 ing. 
 
 In its operations is involved a double process of 
 decomposition and reconstruction, of analysis and 
 synthesis, of dissociation and recombination. Dis- 
 sociation is the antecedent step to imaginative con- 
 struction. Our concepts of things are formed by
 
 198 IMAGINATION. 
 
 joining together various elements. In the work of the 
 imagination we separate these complex concepts into 
 their elements, and then we proceed to build new com- 
 binations out of these elements. As the child pulls 
 its toys to pieces and then out of the fragments 
 makes new toys to please its fancy, so the imagina- 
 tion deals with the concepts held in memory's store- 
 house. 
 
 The creations of the inventor, the poet, the artist, 
 the composer illustrate this process of construction. 
 Look at some of the interesting objects which con- 
 stitute the treasures of the great world of fancy, and 
 how they are made. From the bust of a maiden and 
 the tail of a fish a mermaid is constructed; joining 
 the body of a horse and the head of a man gives rise 
 to a centaur; the body of a goat, the head of a lion 
 and the tail of a dragon make up the fabled chimtera; 
 the body of a dog, with three heads and with snakes 
 for hair is construed into cerberus; the head of a 
 beautiful maiden, the body of a vulture, and the 
 claws of an eagle constitute the harpies; adding the 
 wings of an eagle to the body of a horse we have the 
 famous Pegasus of the muses and poets, and so on 
 through all the wealth of mythologic fancy. Taking 
 a pile of stones and spreading over it a growing vine, 
 forms in my imagination the picture of the ivy-cov- 
 ered ruins of some old castle. Thus is formed the 
 beautiful imagery of the poets. So Milton made the 
 wonderful creations of Paradise Lost; so Shakespeare 
 shaped the "witches" of Macbeth, the "Caliban" of 
 the Tempest, the fairie figures of Midsummer Night's 
 Dream; so Swift constructed the "Lilliputian" people 
 of Gulliver's Travels; so Burns made the airy beings
 
 MODES OF IMAGINATION. 199 
 
 of his Tarn O'Shanter; so Bunyan formed the charac- 
 ters of his immortal Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 The same process of dissociation and recombina- 
 tion is illustrated in the play-fancies of the child, as 
 well as in the superstitious notions of the savage. 
 
 The same thing is farther illustrated in the forma- 
 tion of art products. How is a painting made? 
 "The Last Judgment" in the Sistine Chapel at Home, 
 the "Sistine Madonna" of Raphael in Dresden, the 
 "Paradise" of Tintoretto in the Palace of the Doges, 
 Venice, said to be the largest oil painting in the 
 world with a bewildering multitude of figures, and 
 which Ruskin calls "the most precious thing that 
 Venice possesses" how are such pictures formed? 
 By combining a few simple elements of colors, shades, 
 perspective, etc., on the background of some historical 
 fact or facts. How were the "Laocoon," the "Apollo 
 Belvedere," the "Dying Gladiator," the "Venus" of 
 Milo formed? These immortal pieces were conceived 
 by the imagination. How was the Cathedral of St. 
 Peter's, of Milan, of Cologne made? If you go to 
 Florence, and, in the house where Michael Angelo 
 lived, view the series of sketches which the master 
 had made of the dome of St. Peter's, you can see how 
 the grand conception of that magnificent structure 
 grew step by step in the imagination of the master 
 architect. How does the landscape gardener proceed 
 hi his work? By combining herbs, shrubs, trees, 
 knolls, valleys, rocks, streams, lakes, fountains, ave- 
 nues, etc., according to a conceived picture of his 
 imagination. So the dramatist constructs his plays; 
 so the musical composer, his melody, his sonata, his 
 symphony, his opera, his oratorio.
 
 200 IMAGINATION. 
 
 Forms and Modes of the Imagination. Several forms of 
 the imaginative faculty must be distinguished. First, 
 we name what may be called the sense-imagination. 
 This stands in the functions of sense as the higher 
 modes stand in the functions of intellect and reason. 
 The working of the imagination in the domain of the 
 senses is precisely similar to that of the aesthetic and 
 rational imagination. The phenomena of phantasy 
 are to be grouped here, and afford the best illustra- 
 tion of the sense-imagination. The phantasy makes 
 its images severed from the relations of time, place 
 and previous perceptions. The mind acts capricious- 
 ly, without regard to truth, or reality. The judgment 
 has little to do in the process; the sense dominates 
 everything in the flow of ideas. 
 
 Phantasy is the native energy of the soul by which 
 its past experiences are represented as fancies. When 
 we are resting, this mode of soul action manifests it- 
 self in the form of reverie; when we are asleep, in the 
 form of dreams. In childhood, fancy makes the stick 
 a horse and the fairy tale a reality. It fills the 
 drunkard's boots with snakes, changes the demented 
 woman into Queen Victoria, and leads the somnam- 
 bulist to act his dreams. It is also called involuntary 
 imagination. As such it is spontaneous, instinctive; 
 actuated by desire without intelligent choice. The 
 phantoms that fright us in the dark, spectral voices 
 that we hear, the odd, ludicrous and absurd ideas 
 that stream through our minds may be mentioned as 
 examples. Dreams are phantasms, involuntary or 
 sense memories new combinations, "wherein blind 
 phantasy would fain interpret to the mind the painful 
 sensations of distempered sleep." Reverie, castle-build- 
 ing, or day-dreaming is a mild and pleasing form of
 
 DAY-DREAMING. 2OI 
 
 phantasy. "The craze of delirium and of monomania 
 are extreme cases. In reverie the imagination suffers 
 but little restraint. Images assemble, form, and dis- 
 solve, not so much at will, as at pleasure. In phan- 
 tasy, the will resigns control, and the disordered sen- 
 sations, together with appetites and other forms of 
 desire, impelling blindly in the general torpor of in- 
 telligence, arouse imagination to unchecked extrav- 
 agance." 
 As Milton says, 
 
 "When nature rests, 
 Oft in her absence mimic fancy wakes 
 Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams, 
 111 matching words and deeds long past or late." 
 
 "It is remarkable that the power of self-control 
 seems to have so little reserve force that it is the first 
 of our faculties to break down, not only in our sleep, 
 but in grief, in intoxication, in fever, in case of a stun- 
 ning blow, etc. Other faculties continue active when 
 this has completely succumbed. The torpor of voli- 
 tion during sleep is an important element in explain- 
 ing the phenomena of dreaming."* 
 
 Imagination proper is purposed and directed effort, 
 but phantasy goes on without purpose and without 
 direction. The former is work, the latter is play. 
 Phantasy is to the imagination what the kaleidoscope 
 is to the designer; it gives suggestions which the 
 imagination may work up in higher forms. 
 
 The state known as day-dreaming may serve to 
 illustrate. "Thebody is at ease, the will and judgment 
 are almost passive, images come and go at pleasure 
 and are viewed as the figures of a panorama without 
 effort to define, locate, or explain them. In sleep 
 
 * Davis, "Elements of Psychology."
 
 202 IMAGINATION. 
 
 when the mind is shut off from communication with 
 the external world and from any correct knowledge 
 of bodily conditions, images alone may be objects of 
 consciousness and may come and go uncontrolled by 
 the judgment." 
 
 In soundest sleep and even in delirium we are aware 
 of our dreams and of ourselves as viewing the pano- 
 rama. The sense- world may fade away, but self never 
 ceases to be conscious of its own acts. While we are 
 aware of our acts, our dreams seem to us to be objec- 
 tive realities. We do not recognize the memories that 
 are woven into our dreams as former experiences, nor 
 are we aware that these fancies are products of our 
 own minds. The ground for this is found in associa- 
 tion of the materials out of which our fancies are 
 made. In phantasy we dissociate our experiences, 
 and then recombine them into new forms. As thus 
 changed we do not recognize them as past experi- 
 ences, but look upon them as new experiences. Our 
 phantasies are not usually remembered because we 
 have not given them sufficient attention to make 
 perceptible paths in the brain substance. 
 
 The phantasy works under certain limitations: (1) 
 We can put into our fancies only our experiences. 
 The blind, that is, those born blind, put no color into 
 their fancies. Adults who lost their hearing before 
 the fifth year, it is said, put no sound into their dream 
 images. (2) Phantasy deals only with the concrete, 
 viz.. sense-percepts, self-percepts, and necessary per- 
 cepts. Abstract concepts are not used in our fancies 
 and dreams. 
 
 To this may be added that our fancies and dreams 
 depend largely upon ourselves. Our waking life to a 
 great extent determines our dream life. Good diges-
 
 WORK OF PHANTASY. 203 
 
 tion, regular habits, physical comfort, an hour or 
 two of bodily and mental rest, and a conscience void 
 of offense are the conditions of sound sleep and 
 pleasant dreams. If our reading, our associations, 
 our thoughts and feelings are habitually pure and 
 elevated, our dreams, our fancies are likely to be 
 peaceful and pleasant. 
 
 While our other powers are least active, phantasy 
 is most active. Memory supplies the materials; the 
 laws of association determine the particular course 
 in which the stream of ideas flows. "When thought 
 is slightly active, our dreams become arguments. 
 When imagination (i. e., in its higher form) is some- 
 what active, our reveries and dreams become inven- 
 tions, plans, romances. When our affections are 
 slightly active, our dreams become love scenes. When 
 will is sufficiently active, we act our dreams. When 
 memory is slightly active, we remember our dreams." 
 
 In childhood the work of phantasy is particularly 
 marked. The baby weaves its little joys and griefs 
 into its dreams: now it laughs, and now it weeps in 
 its sleep. The play instinct of childhood is a thing of 
 sense and phantasy. Watch the little ones at play, 
 and see how they weave into their plays the things 
 which have come into their experiences. Fairy-land 
 seems reality to the child, and fairy stories give him 
 unbounded pleasure. The incidents of these stories 
 affect children in just the same way as realities affect 
 adults. Saint Nick, too, is reality. We were sorry 
 when we found out that Santa Glaus was not reality: 
 long after that we were still fond of hanging up our 
 stockings and placing our caps for Christmas pres- 
 ents. We think it is almost cruel to dispel the sweet 
 delusion. Child literature is based on the activity of
 
 204 IMAGINATION. 
 
 phantasy. The illusions fade out as years advance, 
 but in childhood they served a good purpose. 
 
 Physiological Basis of Phantasy. "Sensations, once ex- 
 perienced, modify the nervous organism, so that copies 
 of them arise again in the mind after the original out- 
 ward stimulus is gone. No mental copy can arise in 
 the mind, of any kind of sensation which has never 
 been directly excited from without." 
 
 The blind may dream of sights, the deaf of sounds, 
 for years after they have lost their vision or hearing; 
 but the man born deaf can never be made to imagine 
 what sound is like, nor can the man born blind ever 
 have a mental vision. In Locke's words, 'The mind 
 can frame unto itself no one new simple idea.' The 
 originals of them all must have been given from with- 
 out. Phantasy, or imagination, are the names given 
 to the faculty of reproducing copies of originals once 
 felt. The imagination is called 'reproductive' when 
 the copies are literal; 'productive' when elements from 
 different originals are recombined so as to make new 
 wholes. 
 
 "After-images belong to sensation rather than to 
 imagination; so that the most immediate phenomena 
 of imagination would seem to be those tardier im- 
 ages, which are due to what the Germans call Sinnes- 
 gedachtniss, coercive hauntings of the mind by 
 echoes of unusual experiences for hours after the lat- 
 ter have taken place. The phenomena ordinarily 
 ascribed to imagination, however, are those mental 
 pictures of possible sensible experiences, to which the 
 ordinary processes of associative thought give rise." 
 James. 
 
 Prof. Jastrow has ascertained that if blindness 
 occurs before the period embraced between the fifth
 
 PHYSIOLOGICAL BASIS. 205 
 
 and seventh years the visual centers seem to decay, 
 and visual dreams and images are gradually out- 
 grown. If sight is lost after the seventh year, visual 
 imagination seems to survive through life.* 
 
 Prof. Joseph Baldwin says: "During repose, when 
 phantasy is most active, the blood-supply to the 
 cerebrum is greatly reduced. Perception and thought 
 and will are slightly active and the exhausted brain 
 recuperates, self drifts. Gentle sensor excitations and 
 present ideas suggest other experiences. Self, without 
 purpose and without plan, goes on linking fancy to 
 fancy. This is scribbling, not writing; this is the 
 child's daubing, not the artist painting. This is the 
 whirlwind piling up the timbers, not the architect 
 constructing the mansion."** 
 
 Imagination Proper. We come now to the imagina- 
 tion proper, above and distinct from its sense-connec- 
 tions and sense-complications. Imagination in this 
 sense is purposive and voluntary, fully within the 
 province of will, and proceeding in the light of con- 
 sciousness. It is the soul's capability to transform 
 the real into the ideal, or to clothe the ideal in the 
 dress of the real. Out of material realities the im- 
 agination creates ideals. Out of my experiences, my 
 knowledge and observation of building materials, 
 architectural designs, forms of nature, etc., I create 
 an ideal cottage. Imagination modifies experiences, 
 rearranges them, analyzes them, and makes new 
 wholes. Imagination makes models, constructs hy- 
 potheses, forms systems, creates poems. Realities, 
 
 * See article on "Dreams of the Blind," in the New Princeton 
 Review, Jan., '88. 
 
 ** Baldwin, Psychology Applied to the Art of Teaching."
 
 206 IMAGINATION. 
 
 touched by the magic wand of imagination, become 
 ideals. 
 
 Physiological Basis. Imagination, like memory, habit, 
 and association, rests on brain action and is inti- 
 mately connected with neural processes. In general, 
 we think that all mental activities have their con- 
 comitant brain and nerve action. There are many 
 facts drawn from general life and from observations 
 in the psychological laboratory which go to show be- 
 yond a doubt that imagination is grounded in physi- 
 ology. For example, if the inner organ of sight is 
 destroyed, it is impossible to imagine scenes. Ferrier 
 says: "The destruction of the sight centre not only 
 makes the individual blind presentatively, but blind 
 also representatively or ideally, and all cognitions 
 into which visual characters enter in part or whole 
 become mangled and imperfect, or are utterly rooted 
 out of consciousness."* 
 
 Every effort of imagination has corresponding to 
 it a molecular movement of the brain substance. Im- 
 aged activity tends strongly to go out into real 
 activity; we suit the action to the thought. When 
 we form a mental image of a leap, our muscles are in 
 a state of tension and we are ready to spring; when 
 we go over a speech mentally, we are prone to speak 
 it aloud; when we think of a tune, we are apt to hum 
 it; a feigned blow causes us to start or dodge, etc. 
 Similar to these phenomena are many varieties of in- 
 voluntary gesticulations and facial expression. Men- 
 tal stimuli produce brain excitation; so also recipro- 
 cally, brain changes as cause may produce mental 
 images as effects. Certain cell movements taking 
 
 *Ferrier, "Functions of the Brain.'
 
 SCIENTIFIC IMAGINATION. 2O? 
 
 place in the nerve centers confusedly along lines of 
 preference established by habit, may determine or 
 cause a succession of corresponding mental images in 
 more or less confusion and disorder. 
 
 Hence physical appetites, as hunger and thirst, 
 often direct and color our dreams. The man perish- 
 ing of cold fancies himself wrapped in warm blankets 
 or seated in a comfortable room; a starving man 
 dreams of abundance of food; the wanderer on the 
 desert dying of thirst has visions of flowing streams. 
 Hence, also, the subjective effects of brain fever, and 
 the wildly delightful and extravagant visions of the 
 opium eater.* 
 
 Shakespeare says: 
 
 "Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, 
 Such shaking phantasies, that apprehend 
 More than cool reason ever comprehends." 
 
 "Midsummer Night's Dream," V: Sec. 1. 
 
 All these are cases of neural disturbances determin- 
 ing mental images. 
 
 Modes of Activity. Several distinct modes of the im- 
 agination are to be noted. 
 
 First, the Scientific Imagination. This is also called 
 "reflective," "deliberative" (Aristotle), "philosophic," 
 etc. It is especially related to thought in the search 
 for knowledge. "Regardless of sentiment, it seeks 
 neither the beautiful nor the sublime, but driven by 
 desire to know, it labors after truth, which, when 
 ascertained, it strives to represent with clearness and 
 fullness." It is occupied with hypotheses, and seeks 
 to image conceivable possibilities concerning the 
 subject in hand. In the scientific imagination inven- 
 
 *De Quincey, "Confessions of an English Opium Eater."
 
 208 IMAGINATION. 
 
 tions and discoveries being. When Hargreaves upset 
 his wife's spinning wheel, his imagination saw in the 
 vertical revolving spindle the ideal of the spinning- 
 jenny. In the lifting of the tea-kettle lid, Watt saw 
 the principle of the steam engine. In the swinging 
 chandelier of the Cathedral at Pisa, Galileo saw the 
 principle of the pendulum, and the world excuses his 
 apparent lack of devotion on that occasion when it 
 remembers the results that have come from that 
 discovery. In the falling apple Newton imaged a 
 world dominated by the law of gravitation. In the 
 kite raised into the face of the thunder cloud, Franklin 
 saw a shining highway to the wonder-land of electricity 
 and from it received the communication of a truth 
 which has revolutionized modern life. 
 
 The scientific imagination affords important aid 
 to the experimenter in science. Before effects are con- 
 nected with causes the imagination must explore the 
 field and find the possible connection. Imagination 
 is like the scouts that an army sends on ahead to spy 
 out the land, and report a possible route of progress 
 through the unknown country. It also brings its 
 fine clusters of grapes from the brook Eschol to in- 
 spire and encourage the halting army of invasion. 
 Imagination marks out the path in which scientific 
 progress should move, and also affords the incentive 
 for progress. 
 
 Sir Benjamin Brodie, once president of the Royal 
 Society, said: "Physical investigation, more than 
 anything else besides, helps to teach us the actual 
 value and right use of the imagination of that won- 
 drous faculty, which, when left to ramble uncontrol- 
 led, leads us astray into a wilderness of perplexities 
 and errors, a land of mists and shadows; but which,
 
 AESTHETIC IMAGINATION. 2OQ 
 
 properly controlled by experience and reflection, be- 
 comes the noblest attribute of man, the source of 
 poetic genius, the instrument of discovery in science, 
 without che aid of which Newton would never have 
 invented fluxions nor Davy have decomposed the 
 earths and alkalies, nor would Columbus have found 
 another continent." 
 
 Prof. Tyndall says: "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, dimmish, qualify, and 
 combine experiences, so as to render them fit for pur- 
 poses 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 imagina- 
 tion as the faculty to be feared and avoided rather 
 than employed. They had observed its action in 
 weak vessels, and were unduly impressed by its disas- 
 ters. But they might with equal truth point to ex- 
 ploded boilers as an argument against the use of 
 steam. Bounded and conditioned by cooperant rea- 
 son, imagination becomes the mightiest instrument 
 of the physical discoverers. Newton's passage from 
 a falling apple to a falling moon was, at the outset, 
 a leap of the imagination." 
 
 Secondly, the Aesthetic Imagination. This mode of 
 the imagination is also called artistic. Its end is not 
 knowledge, as in the scientific imagination, but beau- 
 ty. It singles out elements in nature and in the store- 
 house of memory, which satisfy the sense of the beau- 
 tiful, and out of this it constructs its ideal complexes. 
 It pays little regard to the realizable, because its end 
 
 Psychology 1&
 
 210 IMAGINATION. 
 
 is aesthetic pleasure; if its creations please, what 
 matters it whether they can be realized or not? The 
 aesthetic imagination frames for itself, and lives in, a 
 world of ideal beauty. It is accompanied by lively 
 emotion; its forms are more instantaneous and also 
 more inexplicable because they arise from an emo- 
 tional stimulus. Hence, great artists are generally 
 persons of emotional temperament. 
 
 The realm of the aesthetic imagination is the fine 
 arts. All the great works of art from ancient times 
 down to the present have been created by imagina- 
 tion. The masterpieces of painting, sculpture, archi- 
 tecture, poetry, and music are products of aesthetic 
 imagination. The Venus of Milo was first seen by the 
 imagination in the rough block of marble long before 
 the sculptor's chisel released the beautiful angel-form 
 from its sepulchre. The Cathedral at Milan, "that 
 magnificent poem in stone," had its origin in the 
 architect's imagination. The finest poetry is the 
 work of imagination. Hence, the higher degree of 
 artistic imagination is sometimes called the poetic 
 imagination. This it is that makes the beauties of 
 literature and peoples the literary world with its 
 strange and interesting figures. It is the orator's 
 powerful instrument, the magic wand with which he 
 sways the thoughts and feelings and passions of his 
 audience at his will. Music is a fairy kingdom in 
 which the aesthetic imagination conceives some of its 
 most charming ideals and displays the wonders of its 
 creative power. 
 
 The aesthetic imagination works by the aid of 
 ideals. An ideal is a mental conception regarded as a 
 standard of perfection, a model of highest excellence. 
 Ideals are creations of the mind, as over against real-
 
 LIMITED TO EXPERIENCE. 211 
 
 ities, which exist independent of the mind. An ideal 
 is a working model, the harmonious blending into 
 one mental product, of the idea and the object. We 
 fashion our ideals out of the qualities and character- 
 istics which we observe in men and things. In the 
 formation of an ideal of character, for example, the 
 first step consists in studying the lives of illustrious 
 men. The next step is to separate the complex whole 
 into its elements and select the most worthy qualities 
 and combine these into an ideal. These models of 
 beauty and perfection of form, of harmony, of pro- 
 portion then stand forth as guides in our striving for 
 perfection; our lives then are a series of efforts to 
 realize our ideals. The ideal is ever something yet to 
 be won, the possible waiting to be made real in 
 effort, the latent waiting to be revealed in action, 
 the prophetic waiting to be fulfilled in earnest endeav- 
 ors for the attainment of the highest good. 
 
 These ideals are formed, not capriciously, but 
 according to the principles of reason. The reason has 
 its pure forms, and the making of ideals is but the 
 filling in of these pure forms by means of concrete ma- 
 terials gathered by experience and held by the mem- 
 ory. Knowing the place which our ideals occupy in 
 our lives, we can judge the importance of having the 
 highest and best ideals. This is what Emerson meant 
 by the startling expression, "Hitch your wagon to a 
 star." "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he" i. 
 e., as our ideals, so are we, for these are ever striving 
 to realize themselves in our outward life, and so most 
 profoundly shape our character. 
 
 The Limits of Imagination. The imagination creates 
 its world of beauty within certain limits. The first 
 and most important is that of experience. Although
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 in one sense it disregards experience, yet, on the other 
 hand, it cannot transcend experience. Imagination 
 must depend on memory. In its highest power, in 
 its utmost flights, its images are but combinations 
 of partial experiences given by memory; it creates no 
 new materials, it is only the particular combination 
 that is new. Says one, "Experience is the quarry 
 whence memory draws the materials with which im- 
 agination (Einbildungskraft) builds." 
 
 "All presentations, external and internal, all sensa- 
 tions, emotions, desires, affections, volitions, and 
 thoughts furnish, through memory, materials for im- 
 agination. Whatever can be remembered can be 
 idealized." It follows from this that our ideal world 
 will be fashioned according to our actual sense- world 
 and thought-world. The elements in which we live 
 will determine the forms of our imaginary creations. 
 Since the greater part of our sense-life is occupied 
 with visual objects, our ideal world is filled predom- 
 inantly with visual images, i. e., of things seen. 
 Auditory images, though numerous, are yet far less 
 common than visual images. 
 
 Our imaginary creations are but the reflex of our 
 personal experience. If we live in a low and sensual 
 sphere our imaginations will be of a kind to corre- 
 spond. To the Indian, heaven is a happy hunting 
 ground, where game never fails, and where he shall 
 again have his faithful dog, his bows and arrows, 
 and his wampum. To him the Indian summer haze 
 is the smoke from the Great Spirit's peace-pipe. 
 
 This principle has important application to the 
 music student. What shall be the character of your 
 musical ideals? That will depend upon your musical 
 experience, the kind of music you hear and play, the
 
 IMPORTANCE OF IMAGINATION. 213 
 
 musical atmosphere in which you live, the compan- 
 ions you associate with daily. If you live in a low 
 musical sphere your musical ideals will be low. Strive 
 to set up and maintain a high standard. Cultivate 
 acquaintance with the masters. Avoid the trashy 
 and showy kind. Musical culture consists in knowing 
 and associating with the best. The brilliant is of 
 low value and in the end serves only to display self. 
 It is in music as in dress, the flashy and showy is 
 always a mark of uncultivated taste. Be sure you 
 have your experience with deep and true music. As 
 we get better acquainted with it, we find it more and 
 more interesting, it always has something new to say 
 to us. We go to it again and again, and we always 
 get new meanings, which inspire and elevate our 
 thoughts. As our acquaintance grows and our taste 
 improves, the truly classic music yields new beauties. 
 
 The principle we are urging has important educa- 
 tional consequences. Remember our ideals depend on 
 our experience. As the stock of our ideas, so will be 
 our imaginary creations. Here also it is true that 
 the stream does not rise higher than its source. 
 
 The imagination is further limited to theindividual 
 and the concrete. We form no images of the general 
 and abstract. The object immediately present to 
 the imagination is an individual. Then, too, our 
 imaginary creations must conform to rational princi- 
 ples. Those general principles of mind which condi- 
 tion thought in all departments are equally operative 
 in the working of the imagination. For example, we 
 cannot imagine a body not contained in space and 
 yet occupying space, nor an effect without a cause, 
 nor that a thing can be and not be at the same time, 
 etc. Imagination cannot go beyond the necessary
 
 214 IMAGINATION. 
 
 principles which govern all the thinking processes of 
 the reason. 
 
 The Influence and Importance of Imagination. The imag- 
 ination has wonderful power both over mind and 
 body, in society and the state, in morals and religion, 
 in general life. "Imagination," said Napoleon, "rules 
 the world." And Prof. Baldwin says: "Imagination 
 is a master power, commanding all our other capa- 
 bilities. Memory, from our stores of experiences, sup- 
 plies imagination with materials. Will contributes 
 purpose and concentrated and sustained effort. 
 Emotion gives wings to imagination. Thought con- 
 tributes discretion and law. Imagination is the mas- 
 ter-builder, and our other powers are the cooperating 
 workmen." 
 
 First, Its Mental and Bodily Effects. Facts of common 
 experience and observation furnish many instructive 
 examples. The witchcraft craze, belief in pow-wow- 
 ing, magnetic healing, Christian science, patent medi- 
 cines, charms, hypochondriasis, and all the supersti- 
 tions of life are so many instances of the power of 
 imagination. Certain special cases are particularly 
 interesting. Halleck gives the following: 
 
 A fussy man at breakfast would insist that the 
 cream for his gruel was sour, 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 
 the new supply always seemed much better. 
 
 Prof. Bennett, of Edinburgh University, mentions a 
 case reported to him by the chemist who had wit- 
 nessed it. A butcher, working in the market of Edin- 
 burgh, was in the act of hanging a heavy piece of 
 meat on a sharp hook, when his foot slipped and he
 
 MENTAL AND BODILY EFFECTS. 215 
 
 was caught by the arm and hung suspended in the 
 greatest anguish. He was taken down and carried 
 across to a chemist's shop, where the case was at 
 once attended to as one of urgency. The surgeon 
 proceeded to cut open the sleeve of the man's coat, 
 the sufferer crying out in great agony as this was 
 done; yet, when the arm was exposed, it was found 
 that the skin had not even been scratched. 
 
 Dr. Noble records a similar case in the experience of 
 M. Boutibonne, a literary man, who served in Napo- 
 leon's army, and was engaged at the battle of Wa- 
 gram, which resulted in a treaty of peace with 
 Austria in November, 1809. Towards sunset, when 
 reloading his musket, he was shot down by a cannon 
 ball. He felt as if the greater part of both legs had 
 been carried away and all night he lay helpless, not 
 daring to move, lest he should bleed to death. At 
 early dawn a medical officer came to his help. To 
 the question, "What's the matter, my comrade?" M. 
 Boutibonne replied, "Oh, touch me gently, I beseech 
 you; a cannon ball has carried away my legs!" The 
 doctor examined his legs, and with a laugh, bade him 
 get up as there was nothing wrong, when the sufferer 
 leaped to his feet in amazement. The cannon ball 
 had carried away the ground underneath his feet, 
 and he had fallen into a trench which had been 
 suddenly opened.* 
 
 A man sentenced to bleed to death, was blindfolded; 
 a harmless incision was then made in his arm and 
 tepid water fixed so as to run down the arm and drop 
 with considerable noise into a basin. The attendants 
 frequently commented on the flow of blood and the 
 
 *Tuke, "Influence of Mind upon the Body."
 
 2l6 IMAGINATION. 
 
 weakening pulse. The criminal's false idea of what 
 was taking place was as powerful in its effects as the 
 reality and he soon died. 
 
 "A person imagining that he is suffering from dis- 
 ease of the heart, and frequently directing his atten- 
 tion to the movement of that organ, may produce 
 disease where originally there was none; and, in like 
 manner, we are told that "the idea that a structural 
 defect will certainly be removed by a certain act in- 
 creases the organic action of the part, and sometimes 
 produces a cure." Dr. J. Miiller. 
 
 These phenomena are explicable on physiological 
 principles. Imagination fixes the attention, and the 
 attention strongly directed to any part or organ of 
 the body may produce congestion or disease in the 
 organ. 
 
 "When the attention is directed to any part of the 
 body, innervation and circulation are excited locally, 
 and the functional activity of that portion developed. 
 This is well known in the common forms of hypochon- 
 driasis, in which the patient being morbidly anxious 
 as to the state of some particular organ e. g., the 
 heart constantly directs his attention to it, and thus 
 functional disorder, and even structural disease, are 
 caused." Dr Laycock. 
 
 "There can be no doubt that real disease often 
 supervenes upon fancied ailment, especially through 
 the indulgence of what is known asthehypochondria- 
 cal tendency to dwell upon uneasy sensations; these 
 sensations being themselves in many instances purely 
 subjective." Dr. Carpenter. 
 
 Mr. Carter (On the Pathology and Treatment of 
 Hysteria) relates the case of "a lady who, watching 
 her little child at play, saw a heavy window-sash fall
 
 EFFECTS IN PRACTICAL LIFE. 217 
 
 upon its hand, cutting off three of the fingers; and 
 she was so overcome by fright and distress as to be 
 unable to render it any assistance. A surgeon was 
 speedily obtained, who, having dressed the wounds, 
 turned himself to the mother, whom he found seated, 
 moaning and complaining of pain in her hand. On 
 examination, three fingers, corresponding to those 
 injured in the child, were discovered to be swollen and 
 inflamed, although they had ailed nothing prior to 
 the accident. In four and twenty hours incisions 
 were made into them and pus was evacuated; sloughs 
 were afterwards discharged, and the wounds ulti- 
 mately healed."* 
 
 Secondly, Its Effects in Practical Life. Imagination is 
 a grand motive power in human progress. All prog- 
 ress comes from efforts to realize ideals, and ideals 
 are our approaches to the perfect. Without lofty 
 and inspiring ideals, there will be little progress in 
 any department of human interest. Because the soul 
 is progressive, it never quite repeats itself, but in 
 every act attempts the production of a new and fairer 
 world. This is what makes life so interesting; with- 
 out it, the humdrum reality of life would be well nigh 
 unbearable. In practical life, in art, in literature, 
 imagination insures originality and progress. The 
 leaders of thought and action, in all ages, have been 
 persons gifted with powerful imaginations. 
 
 A cultivated imagination leads the way in high 
 achievements. The reason for this is apparent. 
 Where there are high ideals there will be correspond- 
 ing deeds, but it is the office of imagination to make 
 our ideals. Our ideals of perfect manhood lead us 
 
 Carpenter, "Human Physiology."
 
 2l8 IMAGINATION. 
 
 forward and upward in our efforts at character- 
 building. Imagination stimulates mental energy. 
 By its aid we can do more and better work, besides 
 robbing hard work of its tedium. Being a constant 
 inspiration to effort, it leads the way to progress. 
 
 At the bottom of all progress is the quickening in- 
 fluence of imagination on the mind. "Imagination 
 gives vividness to our conceptions, imparts tone to 
 our entire mental activity, adds force to our reason- 
 ing, casts the light of fancy over the somber, plodding 
 steps of judgment, gilds the recollections of the past 
 and the anticipations of the future with a coloring 
 far transcending the dull actualities of life. It lights 
 up the whole horizon of thought, as the sunrise 
 flashes along the mountain top and lights up the 
 valleys of earth. Not alone the poet, the orator, the 
 artist, derive benefit from the use of the imaginative 
 faculty, but it is of inestimable value to all men. It 
 opens for us new worlds, enlarges the sphere of our 
 mental vision, releases us from the bonds and bounds 
 of the actual, and gives us, as a bird let loose, the 
 wide firmament of thought for our domain. It gilds 
 the bald, sullen actualities, and stern realities of life, 
 as the morning reddens the chill, snowy summits of 
 the Alps, till they glow in resplendent beauty" 
 (Haven). 
 
 Perhaps no faculty of the mind is of more practical 
 value than imagination when properly cultivated and 
 held hi due restraint. Especially is it of value in 
 forming and holding before the mind an ideal of ex- 
 cellence in whatever we pursue, a standard of attain- 
 ment, practicable and desirable, but loftier far than 
 anything we have yet reached. To present such an 
 ideal is the work of imagination, which looks not up-
 
 COLORS HUMAN LIFE. 2IQ 
 
 on the actual, but the possible, and conceives that 
 which is more perfect than the human eye hath seen, 
 or the human hand wrought. No man ever yet at- 
 tained excellence in any art or profession, who had 
 not floating before his mind by day and by night, 
 such an ideal and vision of what he might and ought 
 to be and do. It hovers before him and hangs over 
 him like the bow of promise and of hope, advancing 
 with his progress, ever rising as he rises, and moving 
 onward as he moves; he will never reach it, but with- 
 out it he could never be what he is. 
 
 "The happiness and misery of every individual of 
 mankind depends almost exclusively on the particu- 
 lar character of his habitual associations, and the 
 relative kind and intensity of his imagination. It is 
 much less what we actually are, and what we actual- 
 ly possess, than what we imagine ourselves to be and 
 have, that is decisive of our existence and fortune" 
 (Hamilton). 
 
 "Imagination, by the attractive or repulsive pic- 
 tures with which, according to our habits or associa- 
 tions, it fills the frame of our life, lends to reality a 
 magical charm, or despoils it of all its pleasantness. 
 The imaginary happy and the imaginary miserable 
 are common in the world, but their happiness and 
 misery are not the less real; everything depends on 
 the mode in which they feel and estimate their condi- 
 tion . . . At a distance things seem to us radiant 
 with a celestial beauty, or in the lurid aspect of de- 
 formity. In the past our joys reappear as purer and 
 more brilliant than they had been actually experienc- 
 ed; and sorrow loses not only its bitterness, but is 
 changed even into a source of pleasing recollection." 
 Hence, the fair picture of a 'Golden Age 1 , the dream
 
 220 IMAGINATION. 
 
 of the youth of mankind. "Man never is, but always 
 to be, blessed." 
 
 In old age, when the future is dark and short, 
 imagination carries us back again into the midst of 
 days that were far better than the present; our hap- 
 py past is brought back, tinted with colors more 
 brilliant than any we ever experienced. "The young," 
 says Aristotle, "live forwards in hope, the old live 
 backwards in memory." 
 
 "Tis distance lends enchantment to the view 
 And robes the mountain in its azure hue." 
 
 Pleasures of Hope. 
 
 Imagination lightens the burdens of life. Dr. Hew- 
 ett says: "A little boy, walking with his grandfa- 
 ther, complained of being tired, and asked his grand- 
 father to carry him. 'No,' said the grandfather, 
 'take my gold-headed cane and make ahorse of it.' 
 The boy bestrode the cane, and galloped away 
 happy." 
 
 Many a weary man at his daily toil finds his task 
 less heavy when imagination points to the comforts 
 which that toil may bring to wife and child. Many a 
 poor, tired mother, as, late at night, she repairs the 
 tattered clothing of her little ones, may find the task 
 sweetened as she pictures the possible future of those 
 objects of her care and toil. The teacher way well 
 imagine what her troublesome little ones may be- 
 come. Almost every cloud has its "silver lining," 
 but imagination must find it. Oh, the happy faculty 
 that weaves into life's sombre fabric some threads of 
 gold and silver, that illumines the dark picture of 
 daily experience with some bright colors! 
 
 In the language of another, "The more closely we 
 study human knowledge and thought, the more
 
 MUSICAL CLAIRVOYANCE. 221 
 
 clearly do we perceive that this word 'imagination' 
 has more compass and depth of meaning than any 
 other word which we apply to our faculties. Wherever 
 and whenever life becomes great and the world real 
 to us, the imagination holds aloft its quenchless 
 torch. 
 
 In every hour when a new truth moves back a little 
 the horizon of thought, or a new birth of beauty ex- 
 pands a little the world of art, the imagination is 
 present ... It is to the imagination alone that sec- 
 ond sight belongs, that sight which does not rest in 
 obvious and material things, but through them, as 
 through an open window, perceives another and di- 
 viner order of creation. Thus the imagination fulfils 
 for the soul the double function of seeing and inter- 
 preting, of discovering and possessing." 
 
 Fourthly, Us Influence in Music. Art in general is the 
 kingdom of the imagination, This is true both in 
 respect to the creation of art- works, and also the ap- 
 preciation of art-products. How rich and wonderful 
 are not the creations of imagination as we see them 
 displayed in the world's great galleries! What a 
 kingdom here! So in the temple of literary fame, 
 how rich, how vast, how beautiful, how inspiring the 
 empire of poetic imagery! But music surpasses all 
 other departments of art in the wealth and magnifi- 
 cence of its imaginative creations. As music stu- 
 dents, we are especially interested in the use of imag- 
 ination, not only in the composition of musical mas- 
 terpieces, but also in the appreciation and interpreta- 
 tion of them. 
 
 A lively and well cultivated imagination is of ines- 
 timable value to the musician in calling forth those 
 ideal chords, those sublime harmonies in the soul
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 which are the true content of all good music and 
 which constitute its indescribable charm. 
 
 Imagination is to the musical artist what the sails 
 are to the ship, namely, a propelling power. Wagner 
 once said that a "composer, when at work, is in a 
 state of clairvoyance." What does this mean? Clair- 
 voyance means clear vision, clearer than the sense 
 can yield, a vision transcending the power of the nat- 
 ural eye, a power attributed to some persons while 
 in a mesmeric state, of discerning objects not percep- 
 tible by the senses in their normal state. The clair- 
 voyant power of the musical composer is but another 
 name for his imagination. When his senses fail him, 
 his imagination comes to his aid and opens up to 
 him the beauties of the soul's secret wonder-realm, its 
 fairy-land of "vision beatific." 
 
 What Wagner thus said of the composer is also ap- 
 plicable, in a less degree, to the player andihe singer. 
 His imagination transports him beyond himself, so 
 that he is in ecstasy. Ecstasy (ex, out of, and sto, 
 stand) means to be outside of one's self, or beside 
 one's self; as Festus said, "Paul, thou art beside thy- 
 self; much learning doth make thee mad." When a 
 player or singer does his best, he is rapt (from rapio, 
 to seize and carry off, to snatch), carried out of him- 
 self, snatched away, enraptured, transported with 
 love, admiration, and delight, wholly absorbed or en- 
 grossed in his performance. Hence, Longfellow's 
 phrase, "the rapt musician," snatched away as by 
 some invisible power and transported into a third 
 heaven, where he hears sounds unutterable, harmonies 
 transcending the powers of expression. It is his imag- 
 ination that secures for him access into this wonder- 
 ful sound-realm. It is this that gives his play ing and
 
 SYMPATHY WITH THE OCCASION. 223 
 
 singing inspiration. The musician's whole self is con- 
 centrated in what he does, so that the world outside 
 of himself fades away from his view and he communes 
 face to face with the beautiful forms which animate 
 his vision. 
 
 By this means the player brings himself into sym- 
 pathy with the composer and with the occasion. A 
 distinguished musician and author in the following 
 extracts tells us a valuable secret: 
 
 "When I am about to perform music, I endeavor to concentrate 
 my whole self on what I am to play. If I am to play a funeral 
 march, I first strive to enter the house of mourning. There I see 
 the dead one lying in his coffin, I see the floral offerings, and me- 
 thinks I can smell the very tuberoses. I see before me the family 
 of the deceased, with pain and sorrow depicted upon their faces, 
 yes, I hear from time to time the moans and sobs which irresist 
 ibly escape their lips, breaking the monotonous and painful silence 
 that pervades the death chamber. I hear the word of God read, 
 I listen to the hymn of consolation, I see them close the coffin 
 after the family have taken the last, sad glance. I see them carry 
 the body out, I hear the creak of the hearse door, and a cold chill 
 runs over me, as, in my imagination, I hear the terrible noise pro- 
 duced by placing the coffin within; I see the people standing on the 
 pavement looking at each other with sorrowing faces, I hear the 
 bell toll, I see the procession start, and thus I prepare myself to 
 play a funeral march." 
 
 "When I hear that tender Aria from the Messiah, 'He was despised 
 and rejected,' I see my Saviour's suffering face as he stands before 
 Pilate, or as he is spat upon, mocked and struck by the rude hands 
 of soldiers. I see his forehead bleeding from the thorny crown, 
 matting his hair, and staining his lovely face. A voice says, 'Ecce 
 Homo!' The Master's loving eyes look at me, and when I play the 
 accompaniment, where the instrument moans and sobs, as it were, 
 I often shed tears at the sorrowful sight before me. Then, when 
 the song is ended, I feel a sense of contrition and sorrow, I hardly 
 dare to speak aloud, I see my own waywardness that has brought 
 all this suffering of sorrow and grief on this man. Oh, what a 
 power there is in such a song, how it lifts us up and brings us 
 nearer to God 1"
 
 224 IMAGINATION. 
 
 "Handel said, that when he wrote the Hallelujah chorus, he 
 thought he saw the heavens open, and the angels singing around 
 the throne. So when I hear this strain, I stand on Calvary and 
 Hook up at the cross, and confess my own guilt, my lack of love." 
 
 "When I hear a strain from the immortal Beethoven, I wander 
 to the master's home, I hear him complain of the hardness of this 
 world, I hear him bemoan his deafness, I see him as a caged lion 
 shut out from the world, and sadly I sit down by his side, and 
 with fear and awe I listen to what he has to tell me. When I hear 
 some of his strains, I imagine him to be a Jupiter; then again his 
 strains impress me as would the appearance of the ghost in Ham- 
 let. Suffice it to say, my imagination is never idle when playing 
 this master's wonderful strains." 
 
 "When I play one of Mendelssohn's Venetian Gondola Songs my 
 mind goes to sunny Italy, and in my imagination I see Venice 
 with her streets of water and her beautiful blue sky. I hear the 
 music of the boatmen, and whether my fancy picture is correct or 
 not it serves my purpose, it enables me to play and enjoy the little 
 tone poem to a higher degree. Listen to it, hear its passionate 
 yet tender melody, and notice how, as the boat has passed away 
 in the distance and the song is no longer heard, there is a spell 
 left behind that holds you as in a dream; and after the little strain 
 is ended, I sometimes sit spell bound and listen, as if I could still 
 hear the gentle strain that has vanished so softly." 
 
 "I have a little slumber song which I love dearly. Before I 
 play it I often go to a quiet country home. There on the rustic 
 old porch, the mother has seated herself with her needlework; 
 by her side stands a cradle wherein lies her little treasure, 
 about to take its afternoon nap. Oh, I can fairly feel the still- 
 ness of the day; I see the glorious sunlight as it falls on the thick 
 vines which surround the porch, letting in enough light to 
 throw the strangest and most artistic forms of shadow on the 
 floor and wall. I hear the hum of the insects, I hear the distant 
 voice of the ploughman, I hear the tinkle of the cow bell, and 
 while the mother rocks the cradle she sings this little air, called 
 the slumber song. Listen to the accompaniment with its rock 
 ing, and then hear that sweet melody as it finally dies away 
 when the baby is asleep."* 
 
 *Mertz, "Music and Culture.'
 
 MUSICAL DECEPTIONS. 225 
 
 From these examples we see that the true musician, 
 when singing or playing, is, so to speak, out of the 
 body; he roams in a land of fancy. 
 
 It is not possible to sing or play with expression 
 without the aid of a well trained imagination. Thought 
 and sentiment are indeed necessary on on the part of 
 the musician for proper expression, but these must 
 be supplemented by a lively imagination, the power 
 which enables him to live himself in the situations 
 and conditions so that he becomes oblivious to the 
 outer world. 
 
 The power of imagination in music may be judged 
 from certain innocent deceptions which are often prac- 
 ticed on people. A musically inclined lady in London 
 once went to one of Paganini's rehearsals. Having 
 failed to bring his instrument along he borrowed one 
 from a member of the orchestra, and, instead of play- 
 ing, made merely a sort of pizzicato, indicating the 
 time in which he would play the piece. After the re- 
 hearsal the lady addressed Mr. Cook, the leader of 
 the orchestra, saying, "Oh, dear Mr. Cook, what a 
 wonderful man this Paganini is; I declare that until 
 this morning I absolutely knew nothing about music, 
 I never knew what it is capable of ." "Indeed," said 
 Mr. Cook, "music is a great art, but allow me to say 
 that you are indebted to your imagination for this 
 pleasure." "How is this, Mr Cook?" "Why, Pagan- 
 ini did not play at all, he did not touch a bow." "Ex- 
 traordinary," replied she, "I am more than ever con- 
 firmed in my opinion of him, for if without playing 
 he can affect people in this manner, how much more 
 wonderful must be the sensation when he does play." 
 
 Violin players in diminuendo terminations some- 
 times practice deception on their audience. After 
 
 Psychology. 15
 
 226 IMAGINATION. 
 
 the pianissimo has been reached they continue to bow 
 as if still playing, but they are careful not to touch 
 the strings. The listener hears in imagination a still 
 fainter sound than the pianissimo. 
 
 Liszt on one occasion found himself surrounded by 
 a bevy of ladies who importuned him to play for 
 them, to produce for them "those ecstasies, those ar- 
 tistic raptures which his magnificent talent never fail- 
 ed to evoke." Overcome by their persuasions, he 
 seated himself at the piano and played. By his 
 wonderful skill some of the ladies were soon over- 
 come with delight; some even fainted! In telling a 
 friend of the matter afterwards, Liszt said: "Believe 
 me, I played many wrong notes intentionally; indeed, 
 so palpable were some of my errors, that had I been 
 playing at any elementary music school, I should 
 certainly have been expelled as an impostor."* 
 
 Musical Interpretation. A vivid imagination is highly 
 necessary for musical interpretation. What is inter- 
 pretation, and what is implied? It means to explain, 
 to tell the meaning of, to expound, to translate 
 orally into intelligible or familiar terms, to show by 
 illustrative representation, as an actor, e. g., inter- 
 prets the character of Hamlet, as a musician inter- 
 prets a sonata, as an artist interprets a landscape. 
 
 Musical interpretation implies a hidden meaning in 
 the composition, else there would be no need of inter- 
 pretation. What has no deep meaning needs no in- 
 terpretation; a dime novel does not need to be inter- 
 preted. Shakespeare's plays need interpretation; so 
 do "Paradise Lost" and Beethoven's Symphonies. 
 Classic music needs to be interpreted, because there is 
 always something new, something fresh about it 
 
 *Gates, "Anecdotes of Great Musicians."
 
 HOW TO ENJOY MUSIC. 227 
 
 every time we look earnestly into it. The sonatas of 
 Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, and others afford oppor- 
 tunity for interpretation. It is the office of the musical 
 interpreter to represent in tone and action the mean- 
 ing of the composer, to reproduce the beautiful imagery 
 which occupied the mind of the composer at the time 
 he wrote the piece. 
 
 Take for example the dramatic actor. What is his 
 office? In what does his art consist? It is to repre- 
 sent to the audience by means of words, gestures, 
 acts, etc., the imagery and scenes of the play just as 
 the writer of it saw them or conceived them. The great 
 Shakespeare actors and actresses have been profound 
 and patient students of Shakespeare's plays. Thus 
 alone can they find out the meaning of the plays. 
 But this in itself does not make them good actors; 
 they need a vivid imagination to represent, first, to 
 their own mind, and, secondly, to the audience, the 
 meaning of the play. So also is it in the matter of 
 musical representation. The player or singer must 
 have the power to image to his own mind the mean- 
 ing of the composition, and then to represent the 
 same to the listeners. From a thorough study of the 
 nature and meaning of a work, the interpreter must 
 form a correct mind-picture of it. In this way he will 
 be able to grasp the meaning of the work as a whole 
 and represent it in life-like form. His imagination is 
 the power that will bring the work before the mind's 
 eye as a piece of musical sculpture or architecture. 
 
 Enjoyment of Music. It is in music as in poetry. 
 The works of Milton, for example, can not be com- 
 prehended, or enjoyed unless the mind of the reader 
 cooperates with that of the writer. Milton does not 
 paint a finished picture, he sketches it, and leaves
 
 228 IMAGINATION. 
 
 others to fill up the outline. So the great musician 
 does not play for a mere passive listener: he strikes 
 the key note, so to speak, and then expects his hearer 
 to make out the melody. In order to enjoy Spenser's 
 Faerie Queen the reader must abandon himself to 
 the luxuriant fancy of the poet, and with him float 
 along through the varied scenes of his enchanting 
 fairyworld in blissful oblivion of the realities of the 
 senses. So, to enjoy the rare beauties of Mozart and 
 Haydn the listener must rise on the wings of imagin- 
 ation into ethereal heights and view those heavenly 
 visions which occupied the minds of the composers, 
 all forgetful of the outer world. 
 
 Schubert's music has a high degree of imaginary 
 coloring: there is very much of the spirit of poetry in 
 it. It is said of Dr. Johnson that when he got hold of 
 a book "he tore the heart out of it;" with Schubert 
 it was very much the same way. When he read a 
 poem, he at once fastened upon it and transcribed it 
 hi music. Schumann said of him, "Everything that 
 he touched turned into music." Liszt said of him, 
 "that he was the most poetical of musicians." 
 By his magic touch some of the finest poems of 
 our greatest poets were enhanced and even sur- 
 passed when translated into musical language. 
 He possessed in preeminent degree what Wagner has 
 called "musical clairvoyance," which is but another 
 name for image-vision. In listening to Schubert's 
 compositions it is often as if one were brought into 
 face to face contact with music itself; it is as if in his 
 pieces the stream from the great heavenly reservoirs 
 were dashing over us, or flowing through us. Owing 
 to these peculiarities, his music can best be enjoyed 
 when the listener or player is in a similarly high
 
 CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 22Q 
 
 wrought state of mind, rhapsodical state. Many 
 of Schubert's symphonies and other instrumental 
 pieces are of a peculiar, wild, weird, romantic beauty, 
 best described as "Scbubertian." Schubert is among 
 musicians what Hawthorne is among story writers, 
 a delightful romancer, and to enjoy his rhapsodical 
 music one must let his imagination have loose reins 
 to wander at pleasure over moor and fen, through 
 field and forest, over mountain and valley wherever 
 the weird fancy of the author may lead. 
 
 Cultivation of the Imagination. If the imagination has 
 such power and influence, as we have now seen, the 
 importance of carefully cultivating it immediately 
 follows. The need of cultivating the imagination 
 arises from the nature of its action, viz., a tendency 
 to disregard truth in its creations, and to become wild 
 and romantic in its operation. In all these respects 
 there is a tendency to wards injurious excess. If ayouth 
 learns to satisfy himself with his imaginative indulgen- 
 ces, he becomes unfit for the serious work and duties of 
 life. Excessive use of the imagination destroys the 
 power of decision and action by weakening the will. 
 For will and judgment as regulative principles of life, 
 it substitutes emotion, and the life which is governed 
 by emotion is apt to swing off into all kinds of 
 extremes. So in order to keep the intellectual life in 
 its normal balance, and secure for the imagination 
 its proper place and value in the mental economy, it 
 must be subjected to restraints and wholesome dis- 
 cipline. 
 
 The fact that the maximum activity of the imagi- 
 nation occurs during the formative period of life, 
 when all other powers must be subjected to training 
 in order to secure them their normal development,
 
 230 IMAGINATION. 
 
 makes it necessary also to cultivate the imagination 
 during this period. Herbert Spencer says: "There is 
 a certain sequence in which the faculties spontaneous- 
 ly develop, and a certain kind of knowledge which 
 each power requires during its several stages of 
 growth. It is for us to ascertain this sequence and 
 supply this knowledge." 
 
 This is an educational principle of great importance. 
 If a faculty is capable of culture, very manifestly the 
 psychological foundations of education demand that 
 the time for such culture be the period of growth. 
 
 When is this period of growth? In childhood 
 phantasy is very active, but the higher imagination 
 only moderately so. Infants possess what we have 
 called sense-imagination, but little if any of the higher 
 modes of imagination. In youth this faculty becomes 
 marvelously active, but its products are crude. About 
 the age of fourteen it bursts forth into wonderful ac- 
 tivity, and becomes more and more vigorous as the 
 years go by. In manhood, about the age of twenty- 
 one, imagination attains its full activity. From this 
 time till after the middle of life it continues its sway. 
 
 According to the educational principle above laid 
 down, namely, that the time for training a faculty 
 must be the period of its growth, the right time for 
 cultivating the imagination is between the ages of 
 twelve and twenty-one. This is also the period when 
 our ideals are shaped. 
 
 Means and Methods of Cultivation. Even imagination 
 conforms to law, and consequently educational laws 
 are applicable to the training of it. Well directed 
 effort under the guidance of judgment and will occu- 
 pies the first place among the culturing means. 
 Proper use improves the creative faculty, while neglect
 
 THE IMAGING HABIT. 231 
 
 weakens it. The unimaginative must put forth effort 
 to picture things; the over-imaginative must restrain 
 their excessive fancy. Studies and exercises which 
 have the effect, either to stimulate or to restrain as 
 the case may require, have high disciplinary value. 
 Among these, music ranks foremost. The effort to 
 picture in one's mind the composer's conception as a 
 whole, so that his tone concepts may stand forth in 
 vivid, almost visual outline, has the effect to greatly 
 strengthen and develop the picturing faculty. Effort 
 to create musical ideals educates the musical imagin- 
 ation. Hence, it is a good thing to encourage the 
 pupil to compose. Where this is not practicable, it 
 is an excellent practice for the pupil to try to repro- 
 duce in his mind the ideals of composers as embodied 
 in their compositions. 
 
 Kindergarten methods are to be encouraged. They 
 embody the best philosophy of education in general. 
 The imagination is cultivated by easy objective work. 
 By the kindergarten method the child is led to make 
 new combinations of blocks, sticks, lines, etc,, new 
 forms in paper, wood, clay, etc., new arrangements in 
 stories, plays, pictures, etc., in all of which his power 
 of imagination is called forth. Many of the principles 
 involved in these methods, though designed for child- 
 ren, are just as applicable to adults. The great thing 
 in this kind of training work is to cause the learner 
 to originate new combinations according to ideals 
 which are his own, whether with blocks, sticks, lines, 
 notes, or whatever else. 
 
 The pupil should try to image what he reads or 
 studies. It is not enough to read the notes as they 
 stand on the staff; you should associate with them 
 some image of vision or sound. The imaging habit
 
 232 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 is essential in learning to read well any ordinary book. 
 A reader will be able to express adequately the sense 
 of what he reads in proportion as he can make the 
 sense stand forth in clear and distinct images. For 
 instance, take the sentence, "See the pretty snow- 
 flakes falling from the sky." It is apparently very 
 simple and easy to read; but no one is able to read it 
 well, i. e., appreciating!? or realizing!?, until he can 
 image correctly the falling snowflakes. Suppose you 
 are teaching a class to read this sentence. It will help 
 the imaging process if you draw a picture of a snow- 
 flake; then cut out of white paper a number of snow- 
 flakes. "Who can make a snowstorm?" you ask. 
 Taking a handful of the paper-flakes, hurl them into 
 the air, and you awaken in the minds of the pupils 
 an image of the falling snowflakes. The music teacher 
 can devise similar means for cultivating in his pupils 
 the habit of imaging what they play or sing. 
 
 The study of onomatopoetic words and phrases has 
 excellent value in training the imaginative faculty. 
 Onomatopoetic words are such as imitate in their 
 sound the sense they convey, e. g., "buzz, "hiss," 
 "crackle," "bang," "splash," "thud," "roar," "rum- 
 ble," etc. The verses of Milton abound in examples. 
 The following stanza from Saxe's"KhymeoftheKail" 
 illustrates the point: 
 
 ''Singing through the forests, 
 Rattling over ridges, 
 Shooting under arches, 
 Rumbling over bridges, 
 Whizzing through the mountains, 
 Buzzing o'er the vale 
 Bless me! this is pleasant, 
 Riding on the rail!"
 
 DESCRIPTIVE MUSIC. 233 
 
 Or take some lines from Southey's "Cataract of 
 Lodore" 
 
 "Dividing and gliding and sliding, 
 
 And falling and brawling and sprawling, 
 
 And driving and riving and striving, 
 
 And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, 
 
 And sounding and bounding and rounding; 
 
 And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 
 
 Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, 
 
 Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 
 
 And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping, 
 
 And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing; 
 
 And so never ending, but always descending, 
 
 Sounds and motions forever are blending, 
 
 All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar 
 
 And this way the water comes down at Lodore." 
 
 The study of descriptive music is good exercise for 
 the imagination. Schumann's picture-music affords 
 excellent specimens. Mr. Derthick has said, "There is 
 no book of fairy tales in all the world that has in it 
 so many beautiful stories and pictures as you will 
 find in the two books of Schumann, called "Scenes of 
 Childhood' and 'The Album of Youth'. 1 ' This "picture 
 music" or "program music," as it is sometimes 
 called, is intended to convey to the hearer, by 
 means of instruments and without the use of words, 
 a description or suggestion of definite objects, scenes 
 and events, which of course can be apprehended 
 only by the aid of the imagination. 
 
 Study the beautiful in nature and art. Beauty 
 marvelously quickens the imagination. Commune 
 with nature; study her forms, her colors, her sounds, 
 her motions. Oh, the beautiful world we live in! Cul- 
 tivate an appreciation of art from the standpoint of 
 the artist. In the products of art see the artist's
 
 234 IMAGINATION. 
 
 ideals; he created the ideals which he has embodied 
 in his pieces; creating them over again on the part of 
 the pupil educates his imaginative powers. Still more 
 does it cultivate his imagination if the pupil tries to 
 create original art-ideals and strives to realize them. 
 Cultivate a correct art-taste. There is prevalent in 
 the word, unfortunately, much very bad taste. There 
 is a tendency to extravagance and show. We see it 
 in the excessive foliage of vegetation allowed to run 
 wild, in dress, in the architecture and decoration of 
 our houses, in the style of living, in music. Extrava- 
 gance belongs to the inexperience of childhood, the 
 crudities of the savage, the Philistinism of the half 
 educated. Acquire a thorough knowledge of aesthetic 
 principles and the principles of art criticism. 
 
 Add to the stock of concepts. The imagination 
 must have an abundance of materials out of which to 
 shape its creations. Just as a child must have suffi- 
 cient nutritious food for the proper growth of its 
 body, so the imagination must be supplied with con- 
 cepts in order that it may attain its right develop- 
 ment. Therefore, extend the field of knowledge, 
 multiply points of contact with the great world 
 of thought and achievement, read the best poetry, 
 history and science, cultivate familiarity with what 
 is grand and lofty and inspiring in letters, art, ora- 
 tory, music. No one can be familiar with the cre- 
 ations of Shakespeare and Milton, Mozart and 
 Beethoven, Raphael and Michael Angelo without 
 catching something of their inspiration. 
 
 It is the business of imagination to seek out pic- 
 tures and materials for pictures in the realm of the 
 real in order to construct and adorn the realm of the 
 ideal. If a child has only few and poor blocks his
 
 MATERIALS FOR THE IMAGINATION. 235 
 
 constructions are limited; if he has many blocks, he 
 will build his temples and castles and cities on a 
 grander scale. So the first requisite to a fine creative 
 imagination is a sufficient supply of preceptional and 
 conceptional materials. If you possess only few ac- 
 curate ideas, you need not wonder why you have no 
 greater imaginative power. Imagination builds on 
 the suggestions of experience. And it does not re- 
 quire unusual, rare, out-of-the-way, materials to 
 make a fine imagination. Suitable materials are 
 found in the life of every person. Just look around 
 you and note the great wealth of materials for fine 
 fancy sketches. Autumn leaves with their glorious 
 coloring, waving grain fields, lights and shadows 
 over forest and moor, meadows adorned with clover 
 and daisies, blooming orchards over against the blue 
 summer sky, the singing birds, the babbling brooks, 
 the glowing sunset, the fantastic silver edges of the 
 thunder cloud, the brilliant bow of promise, the 
 drapery of mist skirting the mountain side, the bril- 
 liant stars, the flush of morn, the sighing breezes, the 
 roaring tempest, the hum of machinery, the buzzing 
 of bees, the sports of the insect world, the herds and 
 flocks of the field and barnyard, the "human face di- 
 vine," busy life in all its phases these and ten thou- 
 sand other things are strewn about the pathway of 
 everyone and afford rich materials for the beautiful 
 creations of an active imagination.
 
 236 IMAGINATION. 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Define imagination. 
 
 2. Describe the relation of imagination to memory. 
 
 3. Point in the lines from Shelley? 
 
 4. What is meant by the constructive imagination? 
 
 5. Describe double process of decomposition and reconstruction, 
 
 6. Illustrate the creative process of imagination. 
 
 7. What is meant by sense-imagination? 
 
 8. Wh&t IB phantasy? Illustrate. 
 
 9. What of day-dreaming? 
 
 10. What is said of sleep and delirium? 
 
 11. How does phantasy depend on experience? 
 
 12. What of phantasy in childhood? Illustrate. 
 
 13. Describe the physiological basis of phantasy. 
 
 14. What about visual dreams in case of blindness? 
 
 15. Describe the general nature of imagination proper. 
 
 16. Explain its physiological basis. 
 
 17. Describe the scientific mode of imagination. Give examples. 
 
 18. Value of imagination to the experimenter and inventor? 
 
 19. Substance of remarks by Brodie and Tyndall? 
 
 20. What is the aesthetic imagination? 
 
 21. What are idealt, and what their value? 
 
 22. What of experience as a limit of imagination? Explain and 
 illustrate. 
 
 23. Educational bearing of this principle? 
 
 24. Show that imagination is limited to the individual and the 
 concrete. 
 
 25. What of the general influence and importance of imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 26. Describe its mental and bodily effects. Illustrate. 
 
 27. How explain these phenomena? 
 
 28. Give substance of statements by Laycock and Carpenter. 
 
 29. Effects of imagination impractical life? Explain. 
 
 30. Its influence on human happiness? Illustrate. 
 
 31. Its influence in old age? 
 
 32. Influence on the hardships and trials of daily life? 
 
 33. Describe the beneficent function of imagination. 
 
 34. Influence of imagination in music? 
 
 35. How is a good imagination of value to the musician?
 
 QUESTIONS. 237 
 
 36. Explain Wagner's expression about clairvoyance. 
 
 37. What is ecstasy? Illustrate. 
 
 38. What is "the rapt musician"? 
 
 39. Give substance of extracts from Mertz. What do they 
 illustrate? 
 
 40. Why is imagination necessary for good singing and play- 
 ing? 
 
 41. What is said of certain deceptions perpetrated by musicians? 
 Illustrate. 
 
 42. What is interpretation, and in what cases necessary? Illus- 
 trate. 
 
 43. What value has the imagination in musical interpretation? 
 
 44. Why is imagination necessary for the enjoyment of music? 
 Illustrate. 
 
 45. What is said of Schubert and his music? 
 
 46. Why should the imagination be cultivated? To what ex- 
 tent possible? 
 
 47. When should the cultivation take place, and why? 
 
 48. State Spencer's dictum, and show its importance. 
 
 49. When is the period of growth of the imaginative faculty? 
 
 50. What general remarks about means and methods of cultiva- 
 tion? 
 
 51. What about Kindergarten methods? 
 
 52. Value of the imagining habit in reading music? Illustrate. 
 
 53. What of onomatopoetic words? Give examples. 
 
 54. Benefit of studying descriptive music? 
 
 55. What of Schumann's picture -music? 
 
 56. Why study the beautiful in nature and art? 
 
 57. Explain value of concepts in the culture of the imagination. 
 
 58. What of beauty in the world?
 
 238 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Feelings and Emotions. 
 
 THE feelings constitute one of the three grand di- 
 visions of psychology. Perceptions and con- 
 ceptions are accompanied by certain states of 
 mind, such as anger, fear, hate, love, joy, grief, 
 shame, pride, avarice, revenge, humility, etc., etc. 
 These are broadly called feelings or emotions. Feel- 
 ing as a state of the soul is distinguished, on the one 
 hand, from sensation, which is a state of the body, 
 and on the other hand, from emotion, which is more 
 complex and denotes a subdivision of feeling. Emo- 
 tion is often used as synonymous with feeling; but 
 taken strictly, it means "a state of feeling which, 
 while it does not spring directly from an affection of 
 body, manifests its existence and character by some 
 sensible effect upon the body." According to Halleck, 
 "an emotion is the complex agreeable or disagreea- 
 ble side of any complete mental state, while feeling 
 is the simple agreeable or disagreeable side of any 
 mental activity. . . . Emotion, like perception, is a 
 more complex and complete mental state, and it de- 
 mands the presence of a representative idea to guide 
 and prolong it. On the other hand, feeling may arise 
 from a bodily cause and may be preceded or accom- 
 panied 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 combination with them
 
 FEELINGS AND INTELLECT. 239 
 
 produces emotion."* We shall, however, use the 
 terms interchangeably in these pages. 
 
 The term "feeling" is used in several different senses: 
 first, denoting sensation, as when I touch a piece of 
 marble and it feels cold, smooth, hard, etc.; secondly, 
 a mixed bodily feeling, e. g., the sense of comfort, 
 weariness, being ill at ease, etc. ; thirdly, pleasure and 
 pain; fourthly, the aesthetic feeling of beauty and 
 harmony, as when I observe a rose and experience a 
 sense of beauty, or when I hear fine music and experi- 
 ence a sense of harmony; fifthly, the moral feeling, 
 namely, that of duty, ought, approbation, remorse, 
 etc. 
 
 From the variety of terminology employed, we may 
 infer that the subject matter of this division of psy- 
 chology is somewhat vague and indefinite. And we 
 also find it so when we study the nature of the phe- 
 nomena here classified. The feelings are in fact the 
 most vague and elusive of all mental phenomena. 
 Every person is conscious of feeling, but no one can 
 determine exactly the nature of this mental state. 
 The feelings occupy a region of psychic life which is as 
 yet largely unexplored. The difference between the 
 feelings and the phenomena of intellect is broad and 
 sharply marked. When I hold a rose in my hand and 
 experience delight from its beauty and fragrance, my 
 consciousness testifies that the feeling I have is not 
 identical with my perception and knowledge of the 
 rose. So when I gaze upon a beautiful picture, my 
 percepts and concepts of the picture are not the same 
 as the feelings which these awaken in my mind. Or, 
 when I listen to fine music, my knowledge of the 
 music is one thing and the feelings of which I am con- 
 * Halleck, "Psychology and Psychic Life."
 
 240 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 scious are something quite different. The percepts, 
 retents, and concepts implied in knowledge are alto- 
 gether different from the feelings which always accom- 
 pany knowledge and depend on knowledge. Knowl- 
 edge is the antecedent state and feeling the conse- 
 quent state of mental activity; without perception 
 and conception there is no feeling; so, on the other 
 hand, there is never an act of perception and concep- 
 tion unless it be accompanied by some kind of feeling. 
 
 The various views held by writers on the subject 
 may be grouped under three general theories: 
 
 First, the Physiological Theory, This theory holds that 
 what we call feeling is simply a peculiar consciousness 
 of the condition or state of the nervous system, that 
 the feelings are wholly nervous states; not only that 
 the feelings depend on nervous state, but are identi- 
 cal with these nervous states. This theory appears 
 in many forms. Some hold that feeling comes from 
 concord between the stimulus and the vital activity, 
 namely, that pleasurable feelings arise from agree- 
 ment, and painful, from disagreement or opposition. 
 Others hold that painful feeling results from over- 
 stimulation of the nervous organism. Still others 
 claim that pleasure attends the healthy action of the 
 organs within the limits and powers of repair, i. e., 
 that disagreeable taste, unpleasant contrast of colors, 
 discord in sounds, remorse of conscience, etc., arise 
 whenever the waste of nerve substance is greater than 
 the repair! 
 
 But surely these theories are not satisfactory. We 
 want our love of kindred and friends to be deeper and 
 more permanent than the ever changing nerve-cells. 
 We believe that the feeling of beauty and the sweet 
 delight of concordant sounds is something more than
 
 THE HERBARTIAN THEORY. 24! 
 
 the equable supply of repair material in the brain- 
 cells. We have the firm conviction that our sense of 
 ought, our feeling of approval when we do right and 
 of disapproval or condemnation when we do wrong, 
 our reverence and love of God, our holy joy from the 
 knowledge of forgiven sins and the adoption of grace, 
 the pleasures of the communion of saints that all 
 these sacred emotions of our moral and religious life 
 are more than the normal stimulation of the nervous 
 organism or the healthy action of the organs within 
 the limits of recuperation. 
 
 Secondly, the Herbartian or Ideational Theory. This 
 stands in sharp contrast to the several forms of 
 physiological theories. It claims that feelings are 
 dependent on the relations of ideas. It agrees with 
 the physiological theories in making the feelings 
 secondary states of mind, but differs in that it derives 
 these states from ideas and not from nervous action. 
 It makes a sharp distinction between sensation and 
 feeling: to the former belong hunger, thirst, weariness, 
 shivering, etc.; to the latter, sympathy, love, grati- 
 tude, reverence, etc. Those states of consciousness 
 which are grouped under sensations are due to 
 nervous action, while those under the feelings result 
 from ideas. 
 
 Freely stated, the principal points in this theory 
 are as follows: Feelings in general are either pleas- 
 urable or painful. Of whatever kind they may be, 
 they result from the reciprocal action of ideas or con- 
 cepts. In the stream of consciousness ideas continu- 
 ally come and go. Every moment new concepts enter 
 and old ones are displaced; but the old concepts "do 
 not yield without exerting an opposition which de- 
 pends upon their own strength or intensity, and upon
 
 242 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 the strength of their reenforcing or assisting con- 
 cepts." Therefore, there arises in our consciousness a 
 constant arrest and furthering. If these are weak 
 and transitory, they pass unnoticed. If ideas inter- 
 fere one with another, or arrest each other, or inhibit 
 each other, the fact of such interference or inhibition 
 gives rise to a feeling of pain; if they agree together, 
 or further each other, the result is pleasure. Hence, 
 feeling is defined as "the consciousness of a furthering 
 or an arrest of the movement of thought: when a 
 furthering, a feeling of pleasure; when an arrest, a 
 feeling of pain."* 
 
 As has been pointed out before, the life of the soul 
 is a concept life. Throughout our psychic life con- 
 cepts come and go, that is, they rise above and sink 
 beneath the threshold of consciousness. In this con- 
 tinuous flux of concepts is to be found the cause and 
 spring of our emotional life. Feeling is thus not an 
 isolated activity of the soul; the feelings exist in and 
 with concepts, and without concepts they are nothing. 
 Every emotion has its origin in the concept-mass. 
 Therefore, the greater our concept-mass, the richer 
 our stock of ideas, the broader our experience, and so 
 on, the greater will be our capacity for feeling, and 
 the higher will be the quality of our feeling. "Feeling 
 and cognition are psychological correlatives, existing 
 only in coexistence." 
 
 The reciprocal action of concepts, rising and falling, 
 coming and going, furthering and arresting is a mat- 
 ter of daily experience. 
 
 Suppose I am writing a poem, composing an 
 oratorio, painting a picture, building a cathedral, 
 constructing a railroad, managing a bank or dry 
 
 * Lindner, "Empirical Psychology."
 
 FEELING AS ORIGINAL AND UNDERIVED. 248 
 
 goods house, or doing anything else in the whole 
 round of human employment, the feelings which I 
 experience in the midst of my work are a history of 
 the conflict of concepts, some circumstances further- 
 ing and others arresting my concepts as they were 
 struggling upward out of my subjective ideal world 
 into objective realization; and parallel and coincident 
 with this history of the conflict of concepts is also a 
 history of pleasure and pain, satisfaction and disap- 
 pointment, joy and sorrow. 
 
 The Herbartian theory in the main represents the 
 facts about the feelings and emotions quite correctly. 
 With a few modifications, which, however, are of con- 
 siderable importance, we may accept it as a conven- 
 ient theory, bearing in mind at the same time that it 
 is only a theory, since nothing final as yet is known 
 concerning the essential nature of this class of mental 
 phenomena. 
 
 Thirdly, Feeling as Original and Underived. According 
 to a third theory, feeling is not derived, on the one 
 hand, from processes of nervous action, nor on the 
 other hand, from processes of furthering or arresting 
 concepts, i. e., ideation; but it is an original and un- 
 derived form of consciousness, as thought itself is 
 original and underived. A definition of what feeling 
 is can come only from having felt the feeling, just as 
 a definition of thought can rest only on actual experi- 
 ence of the thinking act. "Feeling," says Prof. Ladd, 
 "is a primitive and underived mode of the operation 
 of conscious mind." 
 
 Such, then, are the three classes of theories in regard 
 to the nature of the feelings. Each of them has 
 strong elements of truth, but no one has all the truth. 
 We may mention a few facts, which we regard as fun-
 
 244 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 damental, whatever the theory we accept. Whenever 
 there is any mental action, no matter of what kind 
 or of what degree, there is always a certain feeling 
 accompanying the act of thought. There is also 
 some proportion between the intensity of thought 
 and that of the attendant feeling. This would seem 
 to suggest that there is a causal connection between 
 thought and feeling; and the more probable view is 
 that the thought causes the feeling, and not feeling 
 the thought. Contrary to the assumptions of the 
 physiological theory, we have no hesitancy in affirm- 
 ing that feeling depends on and is conditioned in, 
 concepts. The knowledge of the fact that I have lost 
 my fortune, my reputation, my friend, causes the feel- 
 ing of sadness, and therefore I weep; the experience, 
 i. e., the known fact, of meeting the dangerous bear 
 causes the feeling of fear, and therefore I run; the 
 concept of the ruffian insulting me causes the feeling 
 of anger, and therefore I strike. In all these cases the 
 cognitive act is antecedent; from that results the feel- 
 ing; and then follows the bodily action. 
 
 General Characteristics. Five general characteristics 
 or marks of the feelings are distinguished, namely, 
 Content, Tone, Intensity, Rhythm, and Duration. 
 These distinctions are useful mainly for purposes of 
 anlysis and study. 
 
 By Content we mean the kind or quality of the feel- 
 ing, that is, whether bitter, sweet, sour; whether that 
 of anger, avarice, hate, joy, grief, love, patriotism, 
 approbation, remorse; whether an effect produced by 
 a major chord or a minor chord, by a dark gray or a 
 dull brown or a bright red color, etc. Not all the 
 feelings can be thus qualitatively analyzed, since 
 many of them arise from obscure concepts. In gen-
 
 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 245 
 
 eral, the quality of feelings will be sharply marked in 
 proportion as the concepts which produce them are 
 clear and distinct. 
 
 By Tone of feeling is meant whether the feeling is 
 agreeable or disagreeable, pleasurable or painful. 
 The question has arisen and is sharply debated 
 whether there are some feelings which are neutral as 
 to tone, that is, neither agreeable nor disagreeable- 
 feelings at zero point in the scale of tonicity. Prof. 
 Wundt argues in favor of the existence of such a neu- 
 tral class. Another author says, "Painful feelings 
 shade toward pleasurable feelings, by less and less 
 degrees of pain, and pleasurable feelings shade away 
 from the least observably painful, by greater and 
 greater degrees of pleasure. " If so, then there must 
 be a point where the feelings are neutral in tone. It 
 appears that both the physiological and the idea- 
 tional aspects of feeling favor this view, and that 
 consciousness adds its testimony on this side of the 
 question. It is possible that there may be sub-con- 
 scious feelings, just as there is a flow of concepts be- 
 low the threshold of consciousness! 
 
 Intensity means the quantity or degree of feeling, 
 in other words, the strength of feeling. We are con- 
 scious of different degrees of pain or pleasure, joy or 
 grief, love or hate. All the various feelings may be of 
 low intensity, or they may rise into the height and 
 strength of passions. A given musical chord, which 
 under ordinary circumstances gives rise to a quiet 
 even flow of pleasurable emotion, may under certain 
 circumstances cause in the mind of the hearer a state 
 of rapture, a very frenzy of delight. According to the 
 Herbartian theory, the intensity of feeling depends 
 upon the liveliness of promotion and expression, the
 
 246 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 intensity of opposing and furthering concepts. "The 
 most intense feelings arise when the most numerous 
 and most powerful furthering concepts meet with the 
 most numerous and most powerful opposing con- 
 cepts." 
 
 By Rhythm of the feelings we mean the alternating 
 character of pain and pleasure, grief and joy, etc. As in 
 all other modes of mental activity, so also in the feel- 
 ings we observe the time-form; all our mental states 
 appear in consciousness with a well marked periodic- 
 ity. Sudden elevation of the feelings is followed by 
 excessive depression. The rhythmical flow of feeling 
 is but one instance of the universal law of rhythm in 
 nature. Philosophers have pointed out that all mo- 
 tion is rhythmical or wave-like. In every rivulet, as 
 in the course of every great river, the bends of the 
 stream from side to side throughout its tortuous 
 course constitute a lateral undulation an undula- 
 tion so inevitable that even an artificially straight- 
 ened channel is eventually changed into a serpentine 
 one. The surface of the earth is undulatory, a 
 mountain here, a valley there. The sound which re- 
 sults from drawing a bow across the violin strings, 
 or from forcing a volume of air into the organ-pipe, 
 or from striking a bell, is produced by undulations in 
 the agitated body and transmitted thence to the ear 
 by wave-like movements in the air or other elastic 
 medium. Light and heat from the sun come to us in 
 undulations. The Aurora Borealis is observed to 
 pulsate with alternating waves of greater or less 
 degree of brightness. The planets, satellites, and 
 comets afford us an illustration on a grand scale of 
 this law of rhythmical movement. No wonder that 
 the ancients conceived of the "music of the spheres."
 
 THE LAW OF RHYTHM. 247 
 
 The tides of the ocean flow and ebb. The seasons of 
 the year, the alternation of day and night, succeed 
 each other in rhythmical order. The blood in the 
 body is propelled not in a uniform current but in 
 pulses caused by systole and diastole of the heart; 
 and it is aerated by lungs which alternately expand 
 and contract with every inhalation and exhalation 
 of breath. Human life, physical, social, and religious 
 follows the wave-like form of movement. History is 
 rhythmical periods of activity follow those of rest 
 as spring follows winter, business prosperity is fol- 
 lowed by a season of crisis, reformation succeeds re- 
 ligious stagnation, missionary zeal gives way to 
 indifference. The same oscillatory movement is ob- 
 served in all our mental states. The action of 
 thought is not uniform but within a given period 
 passes through varying intervals of increasing and 
 decreasing intensity. The current of mental energy 
 as seen in the outflow of emotion into poetry, music, 
 and their corresponding movements of body and 
 voice, is not continuous, but falls into a succession of 
 pulses. Poetry is a form of expression which results 
 when the emphasis is regularly recurrent, accented 
 and unaccented syllables following hi orderly succes- 
 sion. 
 
 Music, in still more various ways, exemplifies the 
 law. There are the recurring bars, in each of which 
 there is a primary and a secondary beat. There is 
 the alternate increase and decrease of muscular strain, 
 implied by the ascents and descents to the higher and 
 lower notes ascents and descents composed of 
 smaller waves, breaking the rises and falls of the 
 larger ones, in a mode peculiar to each melody. And 
 then we have, further, the alternation of piano and
 
 248 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 forte passages. That these several kinds of rhythm, 
 characterizing aesthetic expression, are not, in the 
 common sense of the word, artificial, but are intenser 
 forms of an undulatory movement habitually gener- 
 ated by feeling in its bodily discharge, is shown by 
 the fact that they are all traceable in ordinary speech, 
 which in every sentence has its primary and secondary 
 emphasis, and its cadence containing a chief rise and 
 fall complicated with subordinate rises and falls; and 
 which is accompanied by a more or less oscillatory 
 action of the limbs when the emotion is great. Pain 
 having its origin in bodily disorder, is nearly always 
 perceptibly rhythmical. During hours in which it 
 never actually ceases, it has its variations of in- 
 tensity fits of paroxysms; and then after these hours 
 of suffering there usually come hours of comparative 
 ease. Moral pain has the like smaller and larger 
 waves. One possessed by intense grief does not utter 
 continuous moans, or shed tears with an equable 
 rapidity; but these signs of passion come in recurring 
 bursts. Then after a time during which such stronger 
 and weaker waves of emotion alternate, there comes 
 a calm a time of comparative deadness; to which 
 again succeeds another interval, when dull sorrow 
 rises afresh into acute anguish, with its series of 
 paroxysms. Similarly in great delight, especially as 
 manifested by children who have its display less 
 under control, there are visible variations in the in- 
 tensity of feeling shown fits of laughter and dancing 
 about, separated by pauses in which smiles and other 
 slight manifestations of pleasure suffice to discharge 
 the lessened excitement. Nor are there wanting evi- 
 dences of mental undulations greater in length than 
 any of these undulations which take weeks, or
 
 DURATION OF FEELING. 
 
 249 
 
 months, or years, to complete themselves. Men have 
 their moods which recur at intervals. Very many 
 persons have their epochs of vivacity and depression. 
 There are periods of industry following periods of 
 idleness; and times at which particular subjects or 
 tastes are cultivated with zeal, alternating- with times 
 at which they are neglected.* 
 
 Dr. Thaddeus L. Bolton of Clark University, a friend 
 and former pupil of the author, has investigated ex- 
 perimentally the subject of "Rhythm" and has pub- 
 lished in pamphlet form the results of his researches. 
 Many interesting facts concerning rhythm are here 
 brought out, especially in their relation to music and 
 the general world of aesthetics. This experimenter 
 finds that Rhythm is "the manifestation or the form 
 of the most fundamental activities of mind;"** that 
 the accents and cadences of music and poetry are the 
 natural, inevitable results of this law of rhythm ac- 
 cording to which thought and feeling express them- 
 selves. 
 
 The fifth and last characteristic of the feelings is 
 Duration, by which is meant the length of time a feel- 
 ing lasts. Some feelings are short-lived, while others 
 continue a longer period. The duration depends upon 
 the character of the concepts which give rise to the 
 particular feeling. Sensations we know are very in- 
 tense while they last, but their power ceases with the 
 sense-impression. Joy, sorrow, hope, love, which 
 have their origin in sentient experience are transient 
 in their nature. Much more lasting are those feelings 
 which have their seat, not in immediate sense impres- 
 sions, but in extensive, widely branching, and deeply 
 
 * Spencer, ''First Principles." 
 ** See "Amer. Jour. Psych., 1 ' 1893, VI, 214.
 
 250 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 involved groups of concepts. Human affection which 
 springs solely from the fascination of enticing out- 
 ward appearances, such as physical beauty, a fine 
 physique, graceful manners, elegant dress, a sweet 
 voice, captivating smiles, and the like, all of which 
 appeal to the senses, is apt to be superficial in char- 
 acter and of short duration. Personal attractions 
 which are only skin-deep will soon fade away, or even 
 worse, may be succeeded by a positive aversion. 
 Love, to be permanent, must be grounded in concepts 
 of personal worth, of character concepts, which have 
 for their substance the admirable qualities of the 
 inner soul-life. So the joy and zeal of a religious 
 profession which rests only upon the outward sentient 
 phases of religion, will soon spend their force and 
 lapse into a state of apathy or even scepticism. A 
 Christian profession, in order to be lasting and fruit- 
 ful, must have its root deep down in a widely branch- 
 ing, extensive concept-system of sound doctrine and 
 of intelligent personal experience. 
 
 The pleasure which the lighter kinds of music yield 
 music, which is brilliant and fascinating and ravish- 
 ing, which intoxicates the senses, which consists in 
 sound only soon passes away and leaves behind an 
 aching void, perhaps a feeling of disgust. It is sad 
 that in our day the light, fantastic, rattling kind of 
 music which appeals only to the senses, has found a 
 place in our sacred songs and church hymns, to the 
 exclusion in many cases of those solid old melodies 
 and chorals and minor tunes which are solemn and 
 deep and lift the soul of the worshiper into sweet 
 communion with the Heavenly Father. The former, 
 like bodily stimulants, excite the lower sentient feel- 
 ings, which soon pass away and leave a morbid crav-
 
 CLASSIFICATION OF THE FEELINGS. 251 
 
 ing for greater stimulation: the latter edify the soul 
 and bring lasting joy and comfort. This is not a cry 
 of the "old fogy" against the innovations of progress, 
 but it is the earnest voice of all lovers of good music 
 and of true worship against the frivolities and abuses 
 of the sense-intoxicated present. 
 
 Classification of the Feelings. Many plans and schemes 
 of classification have been suggested. All of them 
 have some value. For all purposes the following 
 scheme is deemed most suitable, namely, the Sensu- 
 ous, the Intellectual, the Aesthetic, and the Moral 
 feelings. 
 
 It is to be remarked that these divisions are not 
 absolute, and in the nature of the case cannot be. 
 There are gradations of feeling, and consequently 
 they cannot be sharply limited to any one subdivision 
 of any scheme of classification. The different kinds 
 of feelings shade off into each other by imperceptible 
 degrees. The sensuous cannot be wholly separated 
 from the aesthetic; the bare sensation of sound, for 
 example, cannot be entirely dissociated from the 
 higher sense of harmony, so also the sensation of 
 colors cannot be isolated from the feeling of beauty. 
 Even the moral feelings are mixed more or less with 
 the other feelings which have a bodily basis and 
 origin; for example, love involves both the bodily and 
 the spiritual elements. 
 
 Some feelings depend on the condition of the ner- 
 vous sj^stem to such a degree that we may call them 
 instinctive. Prof. James Mark Baldwin says: "Ner- 
 vous reactions become organized in subconscious 
 motor intuitions; mental reactions become organized 
 in perceptions, subconscious beliefs, and interests; 
 so emotions take on mentally subconscious forms.
 
 252 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 They become so habitual as to be unremarked except 
 when some new occasion calls them out in the shape 
 of emotional excitement."* To this sub-class may be 
 referred all cases of so-called "objectless emotions." 
 The acts here referred to rest on feelings which have 
 for their origin sub-conscious concepts. It is to be 
 further remarked that our adopted scheme of classi- 
 fication rests on the nature of the concepts which give 
 rise respectively to the several kinds of feeling. 
 
 The Sensuous Fee/ings. To the sensuous class belong 
 all those feelings which are connected with the vari- 
 ous sensations. They have a strong affinity to the 
 mere bodily sensations from which it is sometimes 
 difficult to distinguish them. "Those sensations of 
 the higher senses having the most positive tone, as 
 those of color and sound, are in themselves accom- 
 panied by sensuous feelings. The pleasure in the 
 sense of sight reveals itself in the pleasure we take in 
 light and color, while darkness and imperfect colors 
 are accompanied by unpleasant feelings. The mod- 
 erate light of day, the mild light of the full moon, the 
 soft light of the heavens, as also the gleam of illumin- 
 ations, the splendor of fireworks, awaken in man the 
 pleasure in light, whereas the darkness of the night 
 and of the prison cell lies heavy upon the soul." 
 Lindner. So the pleasure in light and color is analo- 
 gous to that which we experience in tone and sound. 
 Stillness depresses like darkness; full, pure, prolonged 
 tones affect us like full, rich colors. In all kinds of 
 sensations there is an attendant feeling, which, though 
 closely connected with the sensation, is yet different 
 from the sensation. 
 
 * Baldwin, "Elements of Psychology. 5 '
 
 THE INTELLECTUAL FEELINGS. 253 
 
 The /ntef/ectua/ Feelings. The Intellectual feelings are 
 those which are connected with the activities of judg- 
 ment, reflection, and reasoning. They are such as 
 accompany the development of our mental faculties, 
 the growth of our convictions, the acquisition of new 
 facts, the progress of scientific knowledge. The 
 feeling of pleasure and satisfaction we experience hi 
 the solution of a difficult problem is an illustration 
 familiar to all. It was this feeling that caused the 
 old philosopher Archimedes, pondering upon the 
 problem of the golden crown, when the truth flashed 
 into his mind, to leap out of the bath tub, and, in a 
 frenzy of delight, rush through the streets crying 
 "Eureka! Eureka!" It is this feeling of pleasure in- 
 cident to the discovery of new things, that has urged 
 the explorers and discoverers of all ages to risk their 
 lives, their all, in the effort to add to the known some 
 facts wrested from the realms of the unknown. It is 
 the love of truth that stimulates the philosopher, the 
 scientist, the historian to deny the vulgar pleasures 
 of sense that they may enrich the world's storehouse 
 of knowledge with the rare treasures of thought and 
 labor. 
 
 There was, probably, not a happier moment in 
 Newton's life than when he had succeeded in demon- 
 strating that the same power which caused the apple 
 to fall, held the moon and the planets in their orbits. 
 When Watt discovered that steam might be harnessed 
 like a horse; 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 the general law, 
 intellectual emotion results." 
 
 When Kepler finished the calculations which
 
 254 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 brought clearly into view the third of his celebrated 
 laws, it is said that such was the transport with 
 which this discovery, which for 17 years had baffled 
 all his skill and patience, filled him, that he burst 
 into tears and marked the day and year, May 15, 
 1618, when this great truth became known to him. 
 The composition of his book, "The Harmonies of the 
 World." he tells us yielded more pleasure than all its 
 readers together could experience in its perusal. In 
 the last pages of the book the genius of the inspired 
 dreamer awakens suddenly from the dry details of 
 facts to dictate to him those bold and august ex- 
 pressions which have become not less immortal than 
 the discovery which they herald, and which disclose 
 to us the high feelings that possessed his soul in the 
 midst of labors: 
 
 "Eight months since I had a glimpse of the first ray 
 of light; six months since I saw the dawn; a few days 
 ago only did the sun arise in its transcendent glory. 
 I give myself up to my enthusiasm, and venture to 
 brave my fellow-mortals by the ingenuous avowal 
 that I have stolen the golden vessels of the Egyptians 
 in order to raise a tabernacle to my God far from the 
 confines of Egypt. If I am pardoned I shall rejoice at 
 it; if it is made a reproach to me I shall bear it; the 
 die is cast. I write my book, wiiether it be read by 
 the present age or by posterity imports little; it may 
 well await a reader; has not God waited six thousand 
 years for an observer of his works?" 
 
 Our Saviour says: "A woman when she is in travail 
 hath sorrow, because her hour is come: but as soon 
 as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no 
 more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the 
 world." So when by travail and by anguish of soul a
 
 THE AESTHETIC FEELINGS. 255 
 
 great truth is born into the world of science, the mem- 
 ory of past sorrows and labors is swallowed up in the 
 abundance of joy. 
 
 The poet Keats in beautiful terms describes his 
 emotions on the discovery of new literary treasures: 
 
 "Then felt I like some watcher of the skies 
 When a new planet swims into his ken." 
 
 So the following example from Wordsworth shows 
 how the intellectual emotions ' accompany in a high 
 degree the study of poetry: 
 
 "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." 
 
 The Excursion, Bk. IV. 
 
 The Aesthetic Feelings. The Aesthetic feelings are 
 those which are awakened by the perception of the 
 beautiful. We posit an aesthetic faculty, that is, a 
 distinct mode of perceptive and conceptive mental 
 activity, whose particular function it is to discern 
 and appreciate the beautiful in art and nature. This 
 faculty, like the other faculties, has its appropriate 
 feeling attendant upon its activity, and this we call 
 the aesthetic feeling. W T undt and others distinguish 
 between the lower and the higher aesthetic emotion; 
 meaning by the former that which is connected with 
 the more sensuous experience and is almost wholly
 
 256 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 formal, while the latter includes the more representa- 
 tive experiences, as having meaning. 
 
 The Aesthetic feelings have certain characteristics 
 by which they are sharply distinguished from other 
 feelings. They consist in the unconditioned valuation 
 of an object, that is, for the sake of its intrinsic 
 merits, arising from its direct apprehension by the 
 senses, and free from the subordinate external inter- 
 ests, which announces itself as pleasure in the beauti- 
 ful or displeasure in the ugly. They are thus the least 
 selfish of all the emotions. 
 
 They are further distinguished from the simply 
 agreeable and disagreeable by the fact that they do 
 not depend upon the content of the individual, but 
 upon the form of the composite. A single note 
 sounded by itself maybe agreeable, but when sounded 
 with others so as to make a musical chord the effect 
 is beautiful, and is felt to be quite different from that 
 produced by individual tones. The beauty of the 
 magnificent cathedral at Cologne does not consist in 
 the individual stones, pieces of timber, glass, etc., of 
 which it is made, nor in a single column, arch, or 
 window, though pleasing in themselves; it consists 
 rather in the orderly arrangement of all the parts 
 into one harmonious whole. The beauty of the rose 
 does not consist in the color or shape of the petals, 
 but in the combination of its parts. The beauty of 
 the landscape is not in single trees, or shrubs, or 
 rocks or bodies of water, but in the happy grouping 
 of them all according to recognized principles of art. 
 So with the picture, the statue, the poem; the aes- 
 thetic effect depends upon the form of the composite 
 whole. 
 
 This bringing together of individual things into
 
 THE WORLD OF BEAUTY. 257 
 
 one whole, this agreement among the manifold, this 
 concord of the different, we call harmony. Harmony 
 is, therefore, the ground principle of the aesthetic 
 feeling. * 'Since the simple is everywhere aesthetically 
 indifferent, relations must form the object of aesthetic 
 preference or rejection; with tones it is the relation 
 of the numbers expressing their vibrations which 
 decides regarding their harmony or discord. The 
 simpler this relation, e. g., the octave (vibrations 1:2), 
 the more easily is the harmony perceived, the more 
 complete is the agreement." But the simplest rela- 
 tion, as in the case of the octave of a given note, does 
 not yield the highest degree of aesthetic pleasure. 
 Hence, a writer observes, "when tones which are 
 originally discordant are brought together in an 
 accord, or where different chords are blended into 
 greater totality of tone, this reconciliation of differ- 
 ences is especially apparent. This explains the reso- 
 lution of dissonance in a piece of music, as well as the 
 harmonizing of conflict in that species of the beauti- 
 ful which is called the tragic." 
 
 It may be further remarked that the enjoyment of 
 aesthetic pleasure is not restricted to one or two per- 
 sons; neither are the 'objects which awaken the aes- 
 thetic feeling the exclusive possession of the favored 
 few they are open to the whole human race. A pic- 
 ture or a statue may be seen by millions, and the 
 beauty is in no wise impaired or lessened; a great 
 poem reaches all that understand the language in 
 which it is written, and many more; a fine melody 
 may spread pleasure over the habitable globe; the 
 sunset and the stars are veiled only from the prisoner 
 and the blind. 
 
 And the world of beauty is not confined to art gal- 
 
 Psycholoov 17
 
 258 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 leries and libraries and concert halls. Nature in her 
 visible forms everywhere is beautiful and invites the 
 admiration of all. The mountains and valleys, the 
 forests and streams, the starry heavens, the crystals 
 of the grotto, the sculpture of the snow-flake, the 
 tracery of the forest, the richly tinted autumn leaves, 
 the flowers of the garden and meadow, the plumage 
 of the birds, the vari-colored insects, wherever we 
 go, wherever we look, the great world of beauty lies 
 spread out before our gaze and appeals to our sense 
 of the aesthetic. And then, what a grand concert hall 
 is nature! Not alone the 'music of the spheres' as 
 they go singing in their orbits, but music from every 
 source steals into the ear of the attentive listener 
 the sweet music of the feathered songsters, the deep 
 organ tones of the ocean and the tempest, the silvery 
 notes of the dancing rivulet, the majestic sound of 
 the waterfall, the awful sub-bass of the thunder peal, 
 the plaintive sighing of the breezes music every where 
 in the great world of harmony. 
 
 "There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims, 
 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls, 
 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." 
 
 Merchant of Venice, Act V. 
 
 Several elements enter into aesthetic enjoyment, 
 namely, the sensuous, the intellectual, and the asso- 
 ciative. The sensuous relates to the experience of 
 pleasure from the direct action of colors or sounds 
 upon their respective nerves without the intervention 
 of thought. Pleasure follows immediately upon the 
 perception of beautiful objects. This does not mean,
 
 ELEMENTS OF AESTHETIC ENJOYMENT. 259 
 
 however, that the feeling of pleasure arises in such 
 cases independent of concepts, but simply that the 
 concepts are not distinctly in consciousness, as is the 
 case in all thought processes. Some have thought 
 that the aesthetic delights which come from hearing 
 music are largely due to the fact that "harmony grati- 
 fies certain simple sensibilities of the nerves of the 
 ear." There may be truth in this hypothesis, but 
 certainly it is a very low kind of musical pleasure 
 which comes from such a source. 
 
 The intellectual element in aesthethic pleasure is 
 that which thought or knowledge contributes. When 
 I view a picture or hear a piece of music and have ac- 
 curate knowledge concerning it know all about its 
 author, its history, its design, its thought-contents 
 I experience a higher kind of pleasure than when I am 
 ignorant of it. A highly cultured audience has a 
 keener enjoyment of the best music than a rude or 
 uncultured one. This is one reason why classic music 
 is not more appreciated by the average hearer, and 
 why the rustic sees nothing attractive in a collection 
 of fine paintings these things do not appeal to his 
 feelings because his intelligence does not rise to the 
 plain in which the noble ideas were conceived. Raise 
 the tone of art-intelligence in the popular mind, and 
 the popular audience will appreciate the higher class 
 of music. 
 
 The associative element is that which comes from 
 the association of ideas or objects or experiences with 
 the thing that is the immediate cause of aesthetic 
 pleasure. This principle has been fully developed in 
 the chapter on Association, and so needs but little 
 more here. There we saw how the stream of our ideas 
 is a series of connected concepts, any one of which
 
 260 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 may bring back to consciousness all the rest. Not 
 only are ideas associated; feelings are also associated 
 with ideas and with one another. We gave examples 
 to show the power of music and stated that the ex- 
 planation of this wonderful power was to be found in 
 the principle of association. We are now prepared to 
 understand that statement in its fuller scope. Asso- 
 ciated ideas give rise to associated feelings, and these 
 feelings are the springs of action, both in the lower 
 nerve-centers and in the higher will. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow says: "Of all the rivers of this beau- 
 tiful earth, there is none so beautiful as the Rhine. 
 There is hardly a league of its whole course, from its 
 cradle in the snowy Alps to its grave in the sands of 
 Holland, which boasts not its peculiar charms." And 
 what is it that gives this river its 'peculiar charms'? 
 The scenery is beautiful and picturesque in the ex- 
 treme, with here a high jutting crag and there a deep 
 gorge, or receding narrow valley, with its quaint lit- 
 tle cities and its vine-clad slopes, with its meandering 
 stream and its castle-crowned rock walls. But far 
 more than all these, it is the interesting legends and 
 stories and the historical events associated with these 
 old castles and rocks and towns that make this river 
 so charming among the rivers of the earth. The cas- 
 tle of Ingelbeim with its legend of Emma and Egin- 
 hard; the Rheinstein with its thrilling romance of 
 Sigfrid and Gerda; the little village of Kaub with its 
 historical memory as the place where Field-Marshal 
 Blucher on New-year's eve, 1813, began to cross the 
 Rhine in order, as he relates, "to wash out the dis- 
 grace of bondage in this proud stream;" Gutenfels 
 with its story of Guta and King Richard of Cornwall; 
 Sternberg and Liebenstein with their pathetic legend
 
 ASSOCIATION HEIGHTENS BEAUTY. 261 
 
 of the two Brothers and Minna; the stronghold of 
 Stolzenfels with its wonderful tales of ghosts and 
 witchcraft and the story of Elsbeth; Ahrenfels, and 
 the Dracbenfels; classic old Bonn, with its renowned 
 university; Cologne with its wonderful cathedral: 
 Worms with its Luther-Monument and its memory 
 of * 'Here I stand, I cannot otherwise; God help me. 
 Amen!" these and a thousand other associations 
 rush upon the thought of the delighted traveler as he 
 floats along upon the waters of this famous river. 
 When we witness a performance of Wagner's Rhein- 
 gold it adds beauty and interest to the wonderful 
 composition if in imagination we can repeople the old 
 castles with their figures of chivalry and live in the 
 midst of the scenes so grandly described in words and 
 tones. 
 
 And so everywhere else, our aesthetic feelings are 
 greatly elevated and intensified when the objects which 
 excite them are associated with historical truths or 
 legendary tales, with pictures and statues, with build- 
 ings and men, with poems and songs. 
 
 The aesthetic feelings in a special sense constitute 
 the enchanted regions where live all artists and 
 whence flows the stream of art-productions. It is sa- 
 cred ground, where low and vulgar things are alto- 
 gether out of place and out of harmony. The pure 
 love of the beautiful is near akin to the high moral 
 and the divine. It is occupied with lofty things, with 
 things which must be spiritually discerned, with the 
 unseen. It has been well said that "he who sees noth- 
 ing in a picture but the painted canvas has not seen 
 the picture." So he who hears in a grand piece of 
 music nothing but sound, hears not the music. As one 
 justly remarks:
 
 262 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 "If truth presupposes a pure, unprejudiced, dispas- 
 sionate state of mind for its apprehension, this is de- 
 manded in a still higher degree in the case of beauty; 
 for, the essential elements of the beautiful, with which 
 it overflows, is a feeling, that is, a state of mind; but 
 objective beauty cannot mirror itself in a mind that 
 is excited with passion. The beautiful, like the divine, 
 presupposes a devout frame of mind, a purified heart 
 which approaches its altar. The uncultured mind 
 seizes the object, in order to make it a means for the 
 satisfaction of desires; it is not the form, but the 
 material of the object which is preferred. Aesthetic 
 apprehension leaves the object untouched which it ap- 
 proaches, only with the higher senses in silent devo- 
 tion."* 
 
 And Goethe with fine discrimination says, "Man 
 does not desire the stars he rejoices in their beauty." 
 
 To this may be added the familiar lines of Shake- 
 speare: 
 
 "The man that hath no music in himself, 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
 And his affections dark as Erebus. 
 Let no such man be trusted." 
 
 Merchant of Venice, Act V. 
 
 The Moral Feelings. The moral feelings are those 
 which are connected with the concepts of right and 
 wrong, good and evil, duty and religion in a word, 
 with the functions of conscience. They hold the high- 
 est rank and dominate the most important interests 
 of the human race. They are invested with a sense of 
 authority which no other kind of feeling possesses. 
 
 Lindner, "Empirical Psychology."
 
 FEELINGS MAY BE CULTIVATED. 263 
 
 "Thou shalt" and "them shalt not," are the words of 
 authority and of inviolable law which go forth with 
 the moral emotions; in proportion as these solemn 
 imperatives are obeyed or disobeyed, we experience 
 peace or condemnation. There is no such feeling of 
 authority or necessity hi any other class of emotions. 
 The true does not bind us, the beautiful has no pow- 
 er to compel choice and action; the good alone is in- 
 vested with authority. "The perception of a rain- 
 bow, a ruined castle or autumnal scenery may raise 
 an aesthetic feeling but never a moral one. Lear 
 could blame the winds for buffeting his old and help- 
 less head only after he had personifed them . . . We 
 may admire a painting or a cathedral or not, just as 
 we choose; if we fail to admire, remorse does not fol- 
 low." Not so with the perception of moral qualities; 
 we cannot be indifferent to the good and the right, 
 to duty and God. 
 
 Cultivation of the Feelings. Just as the muscles of 
 the body and the powers of thought may be cultivat- 
 ed, so can the feelings be improved and controlled by 
 proper exercise. The feelings are like habits they 
 become strengthened and fixed by oft-repeated and 
 persistent use. Indeed, a feeling of joy or despond- 
 ency, of benevolence or hate, of gratitude or selfish- 
 ness, if fostered may become second nature, that is, 
 habitual. It is an error to suppose that a man's 
 disposition is altogether native to him, something 
 given him once for all, to keep and make the best of 
 it. Our dispositions as well as our minds are ca- 
 pable of indefinite improvement by culture. 
 
 This fact rests on the same physiological basis as do 
 the phenomena of habit, memory, and association. 
 Experiment shows and experience confirms the state-
 
 264 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 ment that our nerves as well as our muscles improve 
 with exercise. It is a matter of record that nerves 
 have improved in discriminating power, whether in 
 reference to sound, colors, taste, touch, or odors. 
 This subject of late years has received very much at- 
 tention in the psychological laboratory and some 
 positive results have been attained in regard to the 
 reaction-time of nerves. By reaction-time is meant 
 the very small period of time which elapses between 
 the application of a stimulus to a given nerve and 
 the reaction of that nerve or the production of mo- 
 tion in its correlative muscles, in other words, the 
 time required for the nervous discharge and its con- 
 version into muscular motion. By numerous experi- 
 ments it is found that the reaction-time varies in 
 different individuals and in the same individual under 
 different circumstances. In old people and in un- 
 cultivated people the time is long (nearly a second, 
 in an old pauper observed by Exner); in children also 
 before the work of training has proceeded far, the 
 time is comparatively long. Practice has the effect 
 to shorten the time of reaction; so also the concen tra- 
 tion of attention. Fatigue, intoxicants, disuse 
 lengthen it. The reaction-time for the sound-stimulus 
 is shorter than for either sight or touch. Tones of 
 different intensities show no change in the average 
 reaction-time; but as the pitch rises the time decreases, 
 a fact which as yet has not been satisfactorily ex- 
 plained.* 
 
 What do these experiments prove? Clearly, that 
 nerves are improved by exercise, that their native 
 sensitiveness to stimuli may be increased by right 
 usage and lessened by neglect or abuse. The signifi- 
 
 *Scripture, "The New Psychology," p. 144.
 
 CULTIVATION OF TASTE. 265 
 
 cance of this truth cannot be too strongly emphasiz- 
 ed as a basis for the cultivation of the feelings. 
 
 In nothing does the degree of culture attained by 
 our aesthetic emotions announce itself so infallibly 
 as in our taste. "The vulgar," says Grant Allen, 
 "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. . . Good taste is the progres- 
 sive product of progressing fineness and discrimina- 
 tion in the nerves, educated attention, high and 
 noble emotional constitution, and increasing in- 
 tellectual faculties."! 
 
 Not only for the sake of acquiring a refined and ele- 
 vated taste, which should be the possession of every 
 intelligent and cultured person, but also for other 
 reasons should the emotions be cultivated. The en- 
 joyment of the pure pleasures of the senses, enjoy- 
 ment of the amenities of refined society, enjoyment of 
 the aesthetic delights afforded by music and her sis- 
 ter arts, enjoyment of the higher spiritual felicities of 
 Christian experience, enjoyment of life, as the Crea- 
 tor designed it, is not possible without the cultiva- 
 tion of our emotional powers. 
 
 "Life is not an empty dream. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Life is real I Life is earnest I 
 And the grave is not its goall" 
 
 tGrant Allen, "Physiological Aesthetics."
 
 266 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 God meant that the measure of our life's days 
 and years should be filled full with the enjoyment 
 which flows from virtuous actions. He meant that 
 we should be happy here in this world as well as in 
 the world beyond; for this purpose He gave us a soul 
 with capacity for intellectual, aesthetic, and spiritual 
 enjoyment; and for this reason He created this world 
 a beautiful world, that some of its beauty might come 
 into the soul to gladden, to enrich, to elevate its life. 
 The life of feeling, quite as much as that of thought, 
 is a legitimate life, and asceticism is a reproach to 
 our Maker. Education is intended to increase our 
 capacity for happiness as well as our capacity for 
 usefulness, and religion has its fruitage in the realiza- 
 tion of those beatitudes pronounced by the Saviour 
 of the world upon the pious of all ages. Puritanic 
 fanaticism may banish poetry and musical instru- 
 ments and innocent amusements from society, the 
 fiery, ill-guided zeal of the iconoclast may break open 
 temples and demolish images and altar pieces, the 
 rude vandal may destroy the treasures of art, but 
 as long as the soul is what it is and nature is nature, 
 so long will the enjoyment of cultivated emotional 
 life be a dominant major in the grand harmony of 
 the world. The highest enjoyment comes from making 
 others happy; that is the mode of cultivated, refined 
 feeling, the charity that "is kind, that envieth not, 
 that vaunteth not itself, that is not puffed up, doth 
 not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is 
 not easily provoked, thinketh no evil." 
 
 Cultivation of the feelings is further necessary in 
 order to keep them under proper control. Emotion 
 is a good servant, but a terrible master. The feelings 
 if kept under control and guided aright are a mighty
 
 CONTROL OF PASSION. 267 
 
 power for good, but if allowed to run wild they are a 
 dangerous power for evil. Passion is ungoverned, 
 violent feeling it is the high spirited steed, broken 
 loose from restraint; it is the quietly flowing river 
 now swollen, overflowing its banks and wildly rush- 
 ing; it is the gentle zephyr now fretted into the furious 
 whirlwind; it is the useful steam become explosive 
 and tearing its receptacle into fragments; it is the 
 harmless electric fluid now gathered into the angry 
 thunder cloud hurling its destructive bolts upon the 
 earth. Control these elements, and you make them 
 mighty helpers to human industry and human life; 
 so, control the feelings by education and culture and 
 you make them a potent influence for good, an im- 
 portant adjunct to psychic life. 
 
 But you say, I am nervous by constitution or tem- 
 perament and so cannot control my nerves and emo- 
 tions. All the greater need of training. The child's 
 fretfulness and peevishness can be overcome, and so 
 can yours. It is a good old maxim, "Think twice be- 
 fore speaking once." Restraining the expression of an 
 excited emotion is ofttimes the best way to subdue it. 
 A fire will go out of its own accord if fuel is not sup- 
 plied. The words of Prof. James deserve to be heed- 
 ed: "Refuse to express a passion, and it dies. Count 
 ten before venting your anger, and its occasion seems 
 ridiculous. Whistling to keep up courage is no mere 
 figure of speech. On the other hand, sit all day in a 
 moping posture, sigh, and reply to everything with a 
 dismal voice, and your melancholy lingers. There is 
 no more valuable precept in moral education than 
 this, as all who have experience know: if we wish to 
 conquer undesirable emotional tendencies in our- 
 selves, we must assiduously, and in the first instance
 
 268 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 coldbloodedly, go through the out ward mo vements 
 of those contrary dispositions which we prefer to 
 cultivate. The reward of persistency will infallibly 
 come, in the fading out of the sullenness or depression, 
 and the advent of real cheerfulness and kindliness in 
 their stead. 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 if it do 
 not gradually thaw!" 
 
 "To guard against passion is one of the chief duties 
 of man. He will not easily sink beneath the yoke of 
 passion if accustomed to a moral discipline through 
 early obedience to the commands of parent and 
 teacher, as well as the regulations of society, through 
 strictness and toughening, moderation and absti- 
 nence, the avoidance of eccentric pleasures, and above 
 all through yielding to a habit of thought rich in mor- 
 al ideals." 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Distinguish 'feeling' from 'sensation' and 'emotion.' 
 
 2. Five diBerent senses in which the word -feeling' is used? 
 
 3. General nature of the feelings? Facts in the case? 
 
 4. Explain the physiological theory of feeling. 
 
 5. What objection to these views? 
 
 6. State the theory of Prof. James, and give objection to it. 
 
 7. State the Herbartian theory. 
 
 8. Explain the furthering and arresting of concepts. 
 
 9. Merits of the Herbartian theory? 
 
 10. State a third theory of feeling. 
 
 11. Mention some fundamental facts in regard to the feelings. 
 
 12. What is meant by the content of feeling? Illustrate.
 
 QUESTIONS. 269 
 
 13. What is meant by the tone of feeling? 
 
 14. Are there feelings with indifferent tone? 
 
 15. Define intensity of feeling. 
 
 16. On what does intensity depend? 
 
 17. What is meant by rhythm of feeling? 
 
 18. Illustrate the universality of rhythm in nature. 
 
 19. What is said of Bolton's researches in rhythm? 
 
 20. Define duration of feeling. 
 
 21. On what does duration depend? 
 
 22. What is said of human affection? 
 
 23. What is said of Christian steadfastness? 
 
 24. What is said of light, flashy music? 
 
 25. What is said of sacred music? 
 
 26. What is said about the classification of the feelings? Give 
 adopted scheme. 
 
 27. Why cannot the feelings be satisfactorily classified? 
 
 28. What about subconscious feelings? 
 
 29. What are the sensuous feelings? 
 
 30. Define the intellectual feelings. Illustrate. 
 
 31. Give example about Kepler. 
 
 32. What is said about the birth of new ideas? 
 
 33. What are the aesthetic feelings? 
 
 34. Name some characteristics of the aesthetic feelings. 
 
 35. Show that the aesthetic feelings depend on composite form. 
 
 36. What is said of harmony in relation to aesthetic emotion? 
 
 37. Show that aesthetic pleasure is not restricted to the few. 
 Give examples. 
 
 38. Name three elements in aesthetic enjoyment. 
 
 39. Explain the sensuous element. 
 
 40. What is the intellectual element? 
 
 41. Define the associative element. 
 
 42. Show bearing of association on feelings. 
 
 43. What makes the Rhine so interesting? Illustrate. 
 
 44. Explain relation of aesthetic feelings to art. 
 
 45. Show affinity of the beautiful to the divine. 
 
 46. Quote lines from Shakespeare. 
 
 47. Define the moral feelings. 
 
 48. What distinctive peculiarity do the moral feelings possess? 
 
 49. Why can the feelings be cultivated? 
 
 50. On what basis rests the cultivation of human disposition? 
 
 51. What is meant by reaction-time?
 
 270 THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS. 
 
 52. State results of experiments, and what do these show? 
 
 53. What is said of taste? Give substance of quotation from 
 Grant Allen. 
 
 54. What is said of enjoyment? 
 
 55. Explain reference to true "charity" in this connection. 
 
 56. What is said of controlling the feelings? 
 
 57. Define passion. Illustrate. 
 
 58- Can nerves be controlled? How? 
 
 59. Give reasons why passion should be controlled.
 
 271 
 
 CHAPTER. XL 
 
 The Will 
 
 is the name usually given to the executive 
 faculty of the soul. It makes the third grand 
 
 W division of our psychology, and completes 
 the round of all the known modes of mental activity. 
 An act of will implies choice, motive and execution. 
 In so far as it implies choice it rests in a cognitive 
 function; in so far as it implies moti ve it rests in an 
 emotional function; and on its executive side it rests 
 in motor function. So then the will as the supreme 
 faculty covers the field both of the concepts and of 
 the feelings; it extends its sway over the entire realm 
 of psychic life. It is royal in its nature and if not 
 dethroned by the anarchistic forces of low animal 
 passions and indulgences, it is seated upon its throne 
 and "by divine right" rules the life of man in simple 
 majesty and order. 
 
 The choice involved in an act of volition depends 
 on knowledge, The will is, therefore, an intelligent 
 sovereign. There could be no choice between different 
 things or different courses of action if there were not 
 knowledge of the things discriminated. In that beau- 
 tiful allegory, "The Choice of Hercules," when the 
 young hero stood perplexed at the point where he 
 had to choose one path or the other, he was fully in- 
 structed by the two virgins, Virtue and Vice, concern- 
 ing the nature and goal of their respective paths, 
 and therefore made his choice intelligently. It is a
 
 2?2 THE WILL. 
 
 correct representation of every true choice. In choice 
 there is always knowledge of alternatives and deliber- 
 ation upon the merits of the things in consciousness. 
 In order that the will may guide to a right and safe 
 goal there must be adequate information; otherwise 
 it will be like the blind leading the blind. If knowledge 
 be lacking volition resolves itself into submission to 
 fate, which goes ever "as weird must go." First, 
 then, as the basis for the development of a resolute 
 and normal will, there must be a liberal supply of 
 concepts, both extensive and intensive knowledge. 
 
 The motive power of volition is furnished by the 
 feelings. The direction in which the will goes is de- 
 termined by an idea, but the propelling force which 
 urges it on to its goal is emotion. It is true, that the 
 emotions themselves, as we have seen, are modified 
 and even controlled by the will; but it is also true that 
 the emotions thus innervated and strengthened, in 
 turn react upon the will to determine its action. If 
 my feelings are indifferent, my will is weak, undecided, 
 wavering. If I cherish no noble ambition, the hope 
 or expectation of whose attainment thrills my soul 
 with an inner delight, my will is not able to sur- 
 mount the petty obstacles that lie in my way. If the 
 feeling of a worthy purpose does not move your will, 
 you will never become a good musician. Your ardent 
 desires, your earnest longings, your sincere love for 
 your art must fan your will into a flame, and then 
 the little difficulties which obstruct your way will 
 soon be consumed. It is an old saying that "love 
 conquers all things," and also that "a stout heart 
 makes a strong arm." In the light of our subject is 
 disclosed the philosophy of these maxims; we see how
 
 FREEDOM OF THE WILL. 273 
 
 'love conquers' and bow the 'stout heart' innervates 
 the arm for mighty execution. 
 
 Our remarks lead us again to the physiological as- 
 pect of the subject, namely, to consider how the nerv- 
 ous energy of a high-wrought feeling like water from 
 a reservoir on a high elevation, with great potentiali- 
 ty discharges itself downward into the motor organs. 
 It is an exceedingly fascinating field which the 'new 
 psychology' has opened up to view; but we cannot 
 enter now. Many startling and radical things are 
 said by writers on the subject, but most of them re- 
 main to be proved. According to Miinsterberg, "The 
 will is only a complex of sensations." If this is a fair 
 specimen of the 'new doctrines,' we prefer to cling to 
 the old until we have better information. 
 
 The question concerning the freedom of the will has 
 puzzled the minds of philosophers from the earliest 
 days, and it is not yet settled in all its aspects. But 
 in the light of the best philosophy and the best science 
 of to-day there is no good reason for doubting that 
 the will of man, in the right sense of the word, is free. 
 When the physiological aspects of the problem are 
 cleared up it will be found that the facts which appear 
 to militate against the doctrine of freedom really do 
 not belong to the will proper. The determinism of 
 reflex action is not the determinism of will. 
 
 We must assume that the choices and decisions of 
 man are free, that is, they are his own unconstrained 
 acts, otherwise we have no foundation for character. 
 If I am not the author of my acts, then I am not re. 
 sponsible for them; then the administration of moral 
 law and civil law is lawlessness, Moral law and civil 
 law imply accountability, and accountability implies 
 freedom to choose and act. We do not forget the
 
 274 THE WILL. 
 
 influence of heredity and environment in shaping 
 character; but eliminate these, and the great central 
 factor remains. A man cannot choose his parents; 
 heredity is a powerful factor; but it is a matter of 
 common observation that a man by the power of his 
 will can deeply modify and in many instances entirely 
 overcome the appetites and tendencies which he has 
 received from his parents. If a son has in his nature 
 the taint of a hereditary fondness for drink, it does 
 not follow that he must be and will be a drunkard; he 
 has a power within him which by proper cultivation 
 is able to overcome the hereditary leaning. We be- 
 lieve that resisting the devil, overcoming temptation, 
 and such like phrases in the language of religion and 
 morals are more than mere figures of speech. They 
 are solid facts, and they have their foundation in 
 psychological principles. 
 
 Environment is a powerful factor in shaping char- 
 acter; we have remarked concerning it in the chapter 
 on association, and we see it daily illustrated. But 
 it is also true, in the first place, that a man can to a 
 great extent determine his environment, and, in the 
 second place, that he can materially modify his exist- 
 ing environment. On the authority of experience 
 and the authority of God's word any man, by the 
 grace of God, can be what he ought to be, an honest, 
 upright, industrious, temperate, law-abiding, pious, 
 Christian man. The fact argues the sovereignty of 
 will and sovereignty implies freedom. 
 
 The will, like all other faculties, is capable of culti- 
 vation. Not all men are gifted alike in respect to 
 will power; not every man is a Napoleon. But what- 
 ever a man's endowment, he can improve it indefinite- 
 ly. The child's will is undeveloped, capricious, and
 
 TRAINING OF THE WILL. 275 
 
 lawless; it needs to have its potency developed and 
 guided and controlled. A large share in the business 
 of education has to do with will training. To control 
 the child's will power and to enlist it in the work of 
 mental development is the teacher's first strategic 
 point. And in mature life it is a prominent duty of 
 everyone to attend to the culturing of his will. The 
 cultivation of will consists not alone in developing 
 strength, but also in directing its energy in the prop- 
 er channel, in keeping it under proper control, and 
 in coordinating it in a normal manner with the 
 various other elements of psychic life. 
 
 What has been given in the chapter on habit by 
 way of rules for the formation of right habits is ap- 
 plicable here by way of suggestion as to the cultiva- 
 tion of the will. We have also in another place spok- 
 en of the possibilities of the will in practical life and 
 of its influences on states of body and mind, and 
 therefore this subject needs nothing further here. In 
 our brief remarks in this chapter on the will we have 
 but hinted at a few things from the midst of a great 
 and broad field upon which volumes have been writ- 
 ten, and which our brief space forbids us to unfold. 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. Meaning of will? 
 
 2. What is implied in an act of will? 
 
 3. Explain the sovereign nature of will. 
 
 4. On what does choice depend? Illustrate. 
 
 5. What is the motive power of volition?
 
 276 THE WILL. 
 
 6. Show influence of the emotions on will? 
 
 7. Explain physiological aspect of the will. 
 
 8. What is said of new theories? 
 
 9. What is said of the freedom of the will. 
 
 10. Explain moral bearing of freedom of the wilL 
 
 11. Explain influence of environment. 
 
 12. What of cultivation of will? 
 
 THE END.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Abercrombie, Dr., case re- 
 ported by 163 
 
 Accidental association 127 
 
 Accommodation of the eye, 52 
 Acquaintance with many 
 
 subjects 103 
 
 Action, automatic 77 
 
 Act of memory analyzed 15-1 
 
 Activity of memory in child- 
 hood 157 
 
 Aesthetic, conditions in edu- 
 cation, 141; imagination, 
 
 209; feelings .....255 
 
 Affection, human, condition 
 
 of permanency 250 
 
 After-effects, of nervous ac- 
 tion, 69; in physical world 72 
 
 After-images 204 
 
 Aim high 94 
 
 "Alexander's Feast," quota- 
 tion from 147 
 
 Analysis of memory 154 
 
 Analytic process in imagina- 
 tion 197 
 
 Anticipation, power of 132 
 
 Apple, concept of, how 
 
 formed 117 
 
 Apperception of concepts.... 41 
 Appreciation, of music, how 
 possible, 104; sympathet- 
 ic 223 
 
 Archimedes and the gold 
 
 crown 253 
 
 Architecture, the work of 
 
 imagination 199 
 
 Arnold, Dr. Thomas, on 
 
 energy and will 95 
 
 Arrest of concepts 242 
 
 Art, of hearing, 58; true, 
 simplicity of, 100; in edu- 
 cation,^!; products, how 
 formed, 199; realm of 
 aesthetic imagination,210, 
 
 221; from standpoint of 
 the artist. 233; kinship to 
 
 the divine 261 
 
 Artist, the, what constitutes 100 
 
 Artistic imagination 209 
 
 Asking questions 131 
 
 Assimilation of ideas 42 
 
 Association, explained 114; 
 successive, 115; physiolo- 
 gical basis of, 117; laws of, 
 118; logical, 127; educa- 
 tional bearing of, 138; in 
 
 aesthetic pleasure 259 
 
 Attention,undivided. 90; vol- 
 untary, law of, 137; de- 
 fined, 181; in memory 
 training,181; to one thing 
 only, 182; in case of imbe- 
 ciles 184 
 
 Audibility, limits of 56 
 
 Auditory images 212 
 
 Authority of the moral feel- 
 ings 263 
 
 Author's personality in his 
 
 composition 105 
 
 Automatic action 77 
 
 Avoiding mistakes 80 
 
 Bach, his industry 93 
 
 Bad habits, to be avoided, 
 
 76; hard to unlearn 80 
 
 Bagpipe, incident of 145 
 
 Bain, educational principles 
 of, 82; on memory in edu- 
 cation, 172; on attention. 182 
 
 Balancing ex periment 1 73 
 
 Balking car-horse, example 
 
 of 121 
 
 Baldwin, on phantasy, 205; 
 on power of imagination, 
 214; on instinctive feel- 
 ings 251 
 
 Barriers overcome by will 94
 
 278 IN 
 
 Basilar membrane 55 
 
 Bayard bill, example of 123 
 
 Beauty, of a trained mind, 
 125; the end of aesthetic 
 imagination, 209; the 
 
 great world of 257 
 
 Beautiful, the, in nature 233 
 
 Beethoven and the young 
 composer 34; his kiss, 85; 
 favorite maxim. 93; how 
 to understand his music... 104 
 Beginnings alone difficult.... 80 
 
 Being and willing 96 
 
 Beneficence of imagination.. 220 
 Benefits of memorizing mu- 
 sic 189 
 
 Berlioz, effects of music 146 
 
 "Betty," example of 178 
 
 Birth of new truths 254 
 
 Biography, musical, value of 104 
 
 Blind, dreams of 205 
 
 Blood, circulation influenced 
 by music, 146; and mental 
 
 action 173 
 
 Bodily , conditions for strong 
 nerves, 89; effects of ima- 
 gination 214 
 
 Body, influence of music on, 
 146; state of, effects on 
 
 memory 172 
 
 Bond of ideas 114 
 
 Books, power of 141 
 
 Boutibonne, case of 215 
 
 Brain, structure of, 48; di- 
 visions, 49, disposition of 156 
 Brain-<;ells, record acts of 
 
 negligence 75 
 
 Breadth of ideas 103 
 
 Brougham, Lord, on habit 
 in education 73 
 
 Capacity of human ear 56 
 
 Car-horse, example of 121 
 
 Carpenter, on law of habit, 
 77; on repetition in memo- 
 ry, 185; on bodily effects 
 
 of imagination 216 
 
 Case of criminal, dying from 
 
 imagination 215 
 
 "Cataract of Lodore," quo- 
 ted 233 
 
 Causes of things 128 
 
 Central nerve current 89 
 
 Cerebral explanation of con- 
 tiguity 117 
 
 Cerebro-spinal axis 48 
 
 Cerebrum 49 
 
 Change in emotional states 137 
 
 Character of the keys 14 
 
 Character, moral, grounded 
 
 in freedom 273 
 
 Characteristics, of the feel- 
 ings, general, 244; of the 
 
 aesthetic feelings 256 
 
 Childhood, period of greatest 
 
 memory development 157 
 
 Child-nature 76 
 
 Choice implied in will 271 
 
 "Choice of Hercules," allego- 
 ry of 271 
 
 Chomet, on musical instru- 
 ments 15 
 
 Christine Nilsson's voice 57 
 
 Circulation of blood, 89; af- 
 fected by music 146 
 
 Clairvoyance, musical 222 
 
 Classic music 106 
 
 Classification of nerves, 49; 
 of concepts, 177; of feel- 
 ings 251 
 
 Clear perception, necessary 
 
 to memory 175 
 
 Clock, exam pie of partial re- 
 call 123 
 
 Cochlea of the ear 55 
 
 Collateral literature 107 
 
 Committing words only 180 
 
 Composers, great workers.. 93 
 Composite nature of the 
 
 aesthetic feelings 256 
 
 Concentration, of thought, 
 89; true economy of, 89; 
 makes the musician, 89; 
 
 does wonders 91 
 
 Concept of apple, how 
 
 formed 117 
 
 Conception, the beginning 
 
 of music 23 
 
 Concepts, and concept-mass, 
 40; never annihilated, 
 154; as material for im- 
 agination, 234; conflict of 242
 
 Concept-system and memo- 
 
 ry ..:.....:. 177 
 
 Condition of greatness 95 
 
 Content of feeling 244 
 
 Contiguity, law of 118 
 
 Control of one's forces 99 
 
 Correlation, law of 124 
 
 Correlates, example of 128 
 
 Corti, organ of 55 
 
 Courage, to will and to do, 95 
 
 Cramming, evil of 179 
 
 "Creation," Haydn's ecsta- 
 
 cy 19 
 
 Creative imagination, 197; 
 its process, 198; products 
 
 the reflex of experience 212 
 
 Cricket, chirp of, example of 
 
 vividness 134 
 
 Criminal, death of, from im- 
 agination 215 
 
 'Cues' in association 122 
 
 Cultivated imagination, in- 
 fluence of 229 
 
 Cultivation, of the eye, 52; 
 of the ear, 58; of memory, 
 170; extent of, 171; art 
 of, 171; importance of, 
 172; rules for, 172; bod- 
 ily condition for, 172; of 
 imagination, 229; of the 
 feelings, 263; of the will. ..274 
 Cummings, on the musical 
 
 faculty in children 37 
 
 Curative agency of music ....148 
 Curiosity of human mind ....128 
 
 Dates, memory of 168 
 
 David, and his harp 147 
 
 Day-dreaming, a form of 
 
 phantasy 201 
 
 Deceptions practiced by mu- 
 sicians 225 
 
 Decline of memory 158 
 
 Deliberative imagination....207 
 Delirium, form of phantasy.. 20 -J 
 
 Demonstrative music 100 
 
 Descriptive music of Schu- 
 mann 233 
 
 Determination; the true wis- 
 dom, 96; foundation of 
 greatness 96 I 
 
 sx. 279 
 
 Diagram, of musical staff, 
 125; of recall 159 
 
 Dickens, custom of doing 
 things well 87 
 
 Digestion, influence of mu- 
 sic on 149 
 
 Disease, effects of, on memo- 
 ry, 161; caused by imagi- 
 nation 216 
 
 Dorian mood, 16 148 
 
 Dreams, conform to laws, 
 116; of the blind, 205; 
 colored by appetites 207 
 
 Dry den' s "Alexander's 
 Feast" 147 
 
 Duke of Wellington , on habit 74 
 
 Dull boy, example of 122 
 
 Duration of feeling 249 
 
 Ear, structure of, 54; range 
 
 of 56 
 
 Ears, diversity of, 57; that 
 
 hear not 58 
 
 Ecstacy, state of, 222; case 
 
 of Kepler 253 
 
 Education, habit in 73 
 
 Educational, consequences 
 of apperception, 42; bear- 
 ing of association, 138; 
 
 value of stories 188 
 
 Effects, of the various keys, 
 14; of habit, 73; of repeti- 
 tion, 108; of pathologic 
 conditions, 161; of imagi- 
 nation on mind and body 214 
 
 Ego in memory 165 
 
 Elegy, Gray's, example of 
 
 coexistence 120 
 
 Elements in memory 154 
 
 Emotional, preference, law 
 of, 133; states, change in, 
 
 137; enjoyment 266 
 
 Emotions and feelings 238 
 
 Encouragement of pupils.... 85 
 End-organs of the nerves .... 51 
 Englishman, advice to his 
 
 son 90 
 
 Enjoyment, musical, 227; 
 of aesthetic pleasure. 257; 
 of life's pleasures 266
 
 280 
 
 Environment, influence of, 
 
 140; relation to will 274 
 
 Epilepsy cured by music 150 
 
 Equilibrium, period of 158 
 
 Etymology, examples of 124 
 
 Eustachian tube 54 
 
 Evil habits hard to correct.. 79 
 
 Examples of coexistence 119 
 
 Excellence, the reward of 
 
 labor 92 
 
 Excessive hours of practice.. 88 
 
 Execution of music 102 
 
 Exercise, need of, 90; and 
 
 memory 180 
 
 Experience, of piano pupil, 
 
 83; of childhood 140 
 
 Experimenter, aided by im- 
 agination 209 
 
 Expression and mind, 27; 
 
 musical means of 47 
 
 Eye, structure of, 51; culti- 
 vation of 52 
 
 Fables, value of, in teach- 
 ing 188 
 
 Facility of recall 159 
 
 Facts, of coexistence 119 
 
 Faculty, the musical, 30; 
 mental, right and wrong 
 
 view of 30; defined 31 
 
 "Faerie Queen," how to 
 
 enjoy 228 
 
 False art in music 100 
 
 False notes, avoid making.. 88 
 Fancies, depend on our ex- 
 perience 202 
 
 Fascination of scientific 
 
 studies 128 
 
 Feelings, defined, 238; dif- 
 ferent senses of the word, 
 239; vague, 239; physio- 
 logical theory of, 240; due 
 to overstimulation, 240; 
 Herbartian theory of,241; 
 original and underived, 
 243 ; general character- 
 istics, 244; content of, 244; 
 tone of, 245; neutral, 245; 
 intensity of, 245; rhythm 
 of, 246; classification of, 
 251; instinctive, 251; 
 
 sensuous, 252; intellect- 
 ual, 253; aesthetic, 255; 
 moral, 262; cultivation of 263 
 Ferrier, on the sight-center.. 206 
 
 Figures, memory of 167 
 
 Fingers, guided by thought 62 
 First, time, value of, 80; 
 step determines subse- 
 quent steps, 80; mistake, 
 critical value of, 80; music 
 lesson, a crisis, 81; im- 
 pressions, importance of.. 176 
 
 Forms of imagination 2<*7 
 
 Form-theory, Herbartian... 18 
 
 Franklin, and the kite 208 
 
 Funeral march, remark by 
 
 Mertz 223 
 
 Fussy man,example of imag- 
 ination ..214 
 
 Gaining knowledge, inter- 
 esting 128 
 
 Galileo and the chandelier.. .208 
 
 Genius, defined and illustra- 
 ted, 32; degraded sense 
 of, 33; and talent, 33; be 
 not anxious about, 83; no 
 substitute for labor, 93; 
 hereditary, examples of.. ..136 
 
 German, servant girl, re- 
 markable case of 162 
 
 Girl, orphan, remarkable 
 case of 163 
 
 Giving thought to action... 97 
 
 "Golden Age," imaginary 
 picture of 219 
 
 Gondola Songs of Mendels- 
 sohn 224 
 
 Greatness, the fruit of ener- 
 gy 95 
 
 Grecian flute-teacher, exam- 
 ple of 80 
 
 Gretry, on the effects of mu- 
 sic 146 
 
 Grip power, experiment on.. 144 
 
 Growth of habit 78 
 
 Habit, defined, 66; physio- 
 logical point of view, 66; 
 due to pathway of dis- 
 charge, 67; in education,
 
 z8i 
 
 73; second nature, 76; 
 "ten times nature," 74; 
 tyranny of, 77; a treach- 
 erous schoolmistress, 77; 
 a law of our being, 77; the 
 flywheel of society, 78; 
 like a crease in paper, 77; 
 strengthens with age, 78; 
 hard to change, 78; ex- 
 pensive 80 
 
 Habitude, defined and de- 
 scribed 71 
 
 Hargreaves, and the spin- 
 ning-jenny 208 
 
 Hallelujah Chorus 224 
 
 Hamilton, on attention 183 
 
 Hand, diagram illustrating 
 
 staff 125 
 
 Hands, guided by thought.. 62 
 Handel, a great worker, 92; 
 and the Hallelujah Cho- 
 rus 224 
 
 Happiness, influenced by im- 
 agination 220 
 
 Harmony, causes in 129 
 
 Harp of ten thousand 
 strings, 56; 1 am that 
 
 harp 151 
 
 Haydn, rendition of the 
 
 "Creation" 19 
 
 Health of body and memo- 
 ry 172 
 
 Hearing, art of 58 
 
 Heart in what one does 87 
 
 Herbartian.form theory, 18; 
 
 theory of the feelings 241 
 
 Heredity, facts of, 136; ex- 
 amples, 136, influence of, 
 
 on will 274 
 
 Hezekiah, example of 87 
 
 Higher imagination, the 205 
 
 Highlanders and the bag- 
 pipe 145 
 
 Home environment, impor- 
 tance of 140 
 
 Hours of practice 88 
 
 Human progress, promoted 
 
 by imagination 218 
 
 Hygiene, laws of, and mem- 
 ory 174 
 
 Ideals, absolute in music, 
 19; nature and uses of, 
 210; musical, importance 
 of 212 
 
 Ideas, assimilation of, 42; 
 causally connected, 115, 
 sequence of 115 
 
 Ideational theory of the feel- 
 ings 241 
 
 Illustrations, philosophy of.187 
 
 Images, mental,influence of.. 141 
 
 Imbeciles, cannot fix atten- 
 tion 184 
 
 Imagination,definition,195; 
 relation to memory, 195; 
 constructive, 197; double 
 process, 197; mythologic 
 examples, 198 ; literary 
 imagery, 198; in art-pro- 
 ducts, 199; modes of, 202; 
 207; day-dreaming.aform 
 of, 201; in delirium, 202; 
 in childhood, 203; phan- 
 tasy form, 204, higher 
 form, 205; physiological 
 basis, 206; scientific, 207; 
 aid to the experimenter, 
 208; aesthetic, 209; limits 
 of, 211: limited to the con- 
 crete, 213, influence and 
 importance of, 214; effects 
 on mind and body, 214; 
 effects on human progress, 
 217; effects in practical 
 life, 219; paints a bright 
 future, 220; retrospective 
 in old age, 220; lightens 
 the burdens of life, 220; 
 influence in music, 221; 
 deceptions of, 225; in mu- 
 sical interpretation, 226; 
 necessary to musical en- 
 joyment, 227; cultivation 
 of, 229; period of growth, 
 230; means and methods 
 of cultivation, 230; neces- 
 sary for expression, 232; 
 concepts, material for 234 
 
 Imaging habit, necessary for 
 expression 231 
 
 Impression, made by the
 
 282 
 
 teacher, 84; correlate of 
 
 expression, 84 
 
 Incident of Liszt, 85 
 
 Individuality of composers 
 
 in their music 104 
 
 Indian's ideal of heaven 212 
 
 Infants appreciate music 18 
 
 Influence, of heredity, 136; 
 274; of art in education, 
 141; of environment in 
 education, 140, 274; of 
 music on the insane, 149; 
 
 of imagination 214 
 
 Initiative, strong 80 
 
 Inner, ear of the mind, 20; 
 
 relations of things, 127 
 
 Innocent deceptions of imag- 
 ination, 225 
 
 Inquiry into causes 128 
 
 Inquisitiveness in students,. 129 
 Insane, influence of music on, 149 
 Insanity, inattention a 
 
 symptom of, 184 
 
 Inspiration, Point, example 
 of vividness, 133;inmusic,222 
 
 Instinctive feelings, 251 
 
 Instruction vs. education,... 84 
 Instruments, character of,.. 15 
 Intelligence, behind the fin- 
 gers, 60; in musical work, 99 
 Intellectual feelings, 253; 
 element in aesthetic pleas- 
 ure 259 
 
 Intensity, of effort, value 
 
 of, 88; of feeling 245 
 
 Interest, principle of, 133; 
 
 in memory 186 
 
 Interpretation and mind, 28; 
 
 secret of, 86, 104; musica!226 
 Irresistible power of habit... 77 
 
 Jacobsohn, on hours for 
 practice 88 
 
 James, on memory, 160; on 
 phantasy, 204; on the 
 feelings, 267; on control 
 of the feelings 267 
 
 Jelly-type of memory 157 
 
 Kepler, his ecstasy 253 
 
 Keys, character of, 14; sig- 
 natures 125 
 
 Kindergarten, principle, 76; 
 
 methods 231 
 
 Kiss, influence of 85 
 
 Knowledge, gaining, what 
 is implied, 42; needful to 
 the musician, 63, is power 
 to the musician, 103; nec- 
 essary for interpretation. 104 
 
 Labor, condition of success 92 
 
 Labyrinth of the ear 54 
 
 Language, music the univer- 
 sal 22 
 
 Lapses in training to be 
 
 avoided 82 
 
 Law, of modification of con- 
 cepts, 41; of success, 93, 
 of contiguity, 118; of cor- 
 relation, 124;pf repetition, 
 131; of emotional prefer- 
 ence 133 
 
 Laws of association 118 
 
 Learning, to think music, 
 60; causes of things, 129; 
 by questions, 130; by 
 
 heart 180 
 
 Lesson, the first, a crisis 81 
 
 Liberty of performance 191 
 
 Life, a mass of habits, 75, 
 
 77; first start of 79 
 
 Lightning-blasted tree, ex- 
 ample of vividness 133 
 
 Limits, of perceptibility of 
 vibrations, 57; of imag- 
 ination 211 
 
 Lindner, on memory in old 
 age, 158; on sensuous feel- 
 ings 252 
 
 Listening, the art of 59 
 
 Listlessness, evil of 98 
 
 Liszt, incident of, 85, 226; 
 
 remark about Schubert... 228 
 Literary, interpretation, 
 104; clubs benefits of, 109; 
 
 imagery 198 
 
 Logical, sequence of ideas, 
 
 115; association 125 
 
 Love, power of, in teaching, 
 86, secret of interpreta- 
 tion, 86; all secrets yield 
 to it, 86; permanency of... 249 

 
 Lydianmode 143 
 
 Lyre, power of 21 
 
 Magliabechi, power of 
 memory 168 
 
 Man, a bundle of habits, 75; 
 a truth-hunter 131 
 
 Martial music, influence of.. 144 
 
 Means and methods of culti- 
 vating the imagination.. ..230 
 
 Mechanical Association 127 
 
 Memory, defined, 154; ana- 
 lyzed, 154; physiological 
 basis of, 155; personal ele- 
 ment in, 155, 165; more 
 than a property of mat- 
 ter, 156; as a faculty of 
 the soul, 156; maximum 
 activity of, 157; different 
 classes, 157; in childhood, 
 157; in youth, 158; in 
 manhood, 158; decline of, 
 158; in old age, 158; aided 
 by thought, 160; depends 
 on concept-system, 160; 
 influenced by pathologic 
 conditions, 161; varieties 
 and wonders of, 167; 
 cultivation of, 170; im- 
 portance of, 172; rules for 
 cultivation of, 172; de- 
 pends on health of body, 
 172; improved by atten- 
 tion, 181; by repetition, 
 185; by interest 180 
 
 Memorizing music, 189; im- 
 proves style. 190; im- 
 proves technique, 190; 
 gives liberty, 191; time 
 for 192 
 
 Mendelssohn's Gondola 
 songs 224 
 
 Mental, dissipation, 87; ac- 
 tion, influence of, on blood 
 circulation 173 
 
 Mermaid, how cpnstructed!98 
 
 Methods, wrong, in teaching 
 music, 10 60 
 
 Mertz, on the tone-masters, 
 21; on memorizing music, 
 191; on sympathetic ap- 
 
 =x. 283 
 
 preciation, 223; remarks 
 
 on "Messiah," 223 
 
 Mezzofanti, case of 161 
 
 Milton, on Dorian mood, 16; 
 
 his custom 149 
 
 Mind, like a burning glass... 88 
 Minor and major keys, sen- 
 timents of 14 
 
 "Miserere," reproduced by 
 
 Mozart 169 
 
 Mistake, the first 80 
 
 Mnemonics, substitute for.. .180 
 Model student, picture of....!31 
 
 Modes, of imagination 207 
 
 Modification of concepts 41 
 
 Molecular disposition 68 
 
 Moral, nature, influenced 
 
 by music, 147; feelings 262 
 
 Motor nerves 50 
 
 Movement, new, in music.... 9 
 Mozart, his passion for work 
 
 92; power of memory... ..,.169 
 Music, more than practice, 
 9; nature of, 13; why late 
 to develop, 13; phenome- 
 na of, 14; physiological 
 element in, 17; of the soul 
 vs. form, 19: spiritual ele- 
 ment in, 20; rooted in the 
 aesthetic nature, 20; pow- 
 er of, 21; the world -lan- 
 guage, 22; first a concep- 
 tion, 23; in the schools, 
 38; "of the spheres," 58; 
 in nature, 58; first lesson 
 in, a crisis, 81; pupil's tes- 
 timony, 83; classic 106; 
 vain kind, 106; clubs, 109; 
 has its causes, 129; rela- 
 tion of association to, 
 142; power of, 145; means 
 of government, 143; in- 
 fluence on body, 146: in- 
 fluence on moral nature, 
 147; curative agency, 148; 
 effects on digestion, 149: 
 effects on the insane, 150; 
 benefits of memorizing, 
 189; power of imagina- 
 tion in, 225; enjoyment of, 
 227; rhapsodical, 229;
 
 284 IN 
 
 Schubert's poetic, 228; 
 descriptive, Schumann's. ..283 
 
 Musical, myths, meaning of, 
 21: faculty, 30; faculty 
 universal, 31, 36; expres- 
 sion 47; artists 100: exe- 
 cution 102; appreciation, 
 104; history, value of 107; 
 culture, 106; works, a pre- 
 cious heritage, 107; mem- 
 ory, cases of 169; style, 
 improved by memorizing, 
 190; perception, improved 
 by memorizing, 190;ideals, 
 importance of, 210; clair- 
 voyance, 222; interpreta- 
 tion, 226 
 
 Musicians, must be earnest 
 students, 62; have need of 
 will-power 94 
 
 Mysterious flow of ideas 114 
 
 Mythology, musical legends 
 of 21 
 
 Napoleon, his will power, 
 95; on imagination, 214 
 
 Nature, of music, 12; sounds 
 in, 59; communion with, 
 142 
 
 Nation, songs and pictures 
 of a 141 
 
 Negligence, record of in 
 brain-cells 75 
 
 Nerves, number and struc- 
 ture of, 49; can be cultiva- 
 ted 264 
 
 Nerve-current, how to 
 strengthen 89 
 
 Nervous, system, structure 
 of, 48; disposition 69 
 
 Neutral feelings 245 
 
 Newton, Isaac, his method 
 of study, 184; and the 
 apple 208 
 
 Niagara river, example of... 79 
 
 Noises, organ of 55 
 
 No art of forgetting, 154.. ..162 
 
 Number of brain-paths, 157,159 
 
 Onomatopoetic words 232 
 
 Open grave, example of viv- 
 
 ....134 
 
 Opera, example of 132 
 
 Orphan girl, example of 163 
 
 Orpheus, power of hislyre... 21 
 
 Paganini, incident of 225 
 
 Pain, rhythmical nature of .248 
 
 Parables, teaching by 187 
 
 Partial recall in association!22 
 Pascal, power of memory.. .168 
 Passion, nature of, 267, con- 
 trol of 267 
 
 Pathologic conditions, effect 
 on memory, 161; signifi- 
 cance of 165 
 
 Pathway of discharge 66 
 
 Pedagogical, application of 
 apperception, 44; value of 
 training, 110; value of 
 
 memorizing music 189 
 
 Perception, clear, necessary 
 
 to memory 175 
 
 Performance, liberty of 191 
 
 Personal element in memo- 
 ry 165 
 
 Phantasy, nature of, 200; 
 limitations, 202; in child- 
 hood, 213; physiological 
 
 basis 214 
 
 Phenomena, musical 14 
 
 Phrygian mode, peculiarity 
 
 of 149 
 
 Physical conditions for 
 
 memory culture 172 
 
 Physiological element in mu- 
 sic, 17; basis of memory, 
 155; theory ofthefeelings,240 
 
 Pianist, conception of 99 
 
 Pictures, influence of 141 
 
 Pitch, effect on grip-power.. 144 
 Pitt, William, power of con- 
 centration 91 
 
 Plasticity, of nerve sub- 
 stance 68 
 
 Plato, definition of a man, 
 
 131; on music 143 
 
 Pope's "Ode on St. Cecilia's 
 
 Day." 147 
 
 Power, of concentration, 89; 
 of will, 94; of music 143
 
 Practical effects of imagin- 
 ation 21 
 
 Primary law of association 116 
 
 Principle of interest, 183; 
 in memory 186 
 
 "Program music," 233 
 
 Progress, in music, why 
 lagging, 9; promoted by 
 imagination 218 
 
 Psychic, element in music, 
 20; life and concept-mass, 40 
 
 Psychology, the fundamen- 
 tal science 11 
 
 Psychological character of 
 music study 26 
 
 8uality of feeling 244 
 larin, on curative power 
 of music 148 
 
 Radcliffe, Mrs., on redinte- 
 gration 126 
 
 Range of the ear 56 
 
 "Rapt musician," the 222 
 
 Rational association 177 
 
 Reaction-time, what 264 
 
 Reasons for rational asso- 
 ciation 177 
 
 Recall, partial, in associa- 
 tion, 122; depends on 
 
 number of brain paths 159 
 
 Recency, effect of 133 
 
 Record of negligence, in the 
 
 braincells 75 
 
 Redintegration, example of.126 
 Religion, condition of stabil- 
 ity 250 
 
 Remedy for stage fright 90 
 
 Repetition, effects of,68,108; 
 
 in memory training 185 
 
 Retentiveness of memory.... 156 
 
 Retina of the eye 52 
 
 Reverie, a form of phantasy200 
 Revolution in the music 
 
 world 9 
 
 Rhapsodical music of Schu- 
 bert 228 
 
 Rhine, associations with the260 
 "Rhyme of the Rail," quota- 
 tion from 232 
 
 Rhythm of feeling 246 
 
 EX. 285 
 
 Rip Van Winkle, example of 75 
 
 Rods and Cones 55 
 
 Rubinstein, on hours for 
 
 practice 88 
 
 Rules for forming habits 86 
 
 Saul and his evil spirit 147 
 
 Schools, music in 38 
 
 Schubert, his poetic music.. .228 
 Schumann, on the inner ear, 
 60; on Schubert's music, 
 228; his descriptive music233 
 Scripture, Prof., grip experi- 
 ment 144 
 
 Sculptures, the work of the 
 
 imagination 199 
 
 Scientific imagination 207 
 
 Search for causes 129 
 
 Second nature 76 
 
 Secondary laws of associa- 
 tion 120 
 
 Selective process in imagina- 
 tion 198 
 
 Self-help 93 
 
 Semicircular canals 55 
 
 Sense imagination 200 
 
 Sense perception, process of 117 
 Senses, report of, to different 
 
 centers 117 
 
 Sensory nerves 50 
 
 Sensuous, feelings, 252; ele- 
 ment in aesthetic pleas- 
 ure 258 
 
 squence of ideas 115 
 
 ;ries of associated ideas....l!5 
 
 Showy music 100 
 
 Siddpns, Mrs., referred to.. ..191 
 Significance of pathologic 
 
 cases 165 
 
 Skill, how possible 71 
 
 Smith, Nora A., on stories 188 
 
 Solemnity of association 150 
 
 Solomon, on training 110 
 
 Songs, influence of 141 
 
 Soul, music of, 19; and con- 
 cept-life, 40; behind great 
 
 works 100 
 
 Spinal cord 49 
 
 Spiritual element in music... 19 
 
 Staff, diagram of 125 
 
 Stage fright, remedy for 90
 
 286 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Stories, as an educational 
 
 agency 187 
 
 Student, a truth-hunter 131 
 
 Style, musical, improved by 
 
 memorizing 190 
 
 Successive association 11 5 
 
 Summation of stimuli 121 
 
 Sympathetic, system, 50; 
 study of great musicians, 
 104; appreciation of mu- 
 sic 223 
 
 Sympathy, value of 86 
 
 Synthetic process in imagi- 
 nation 198 
 
 Talent and genius 33 
 
 Tapper, on playing without 
 
 thought 60 
 
 Taste, a cultured, 234; of 
 
 the uncultured 265 
 
 Teacher, should encourage 
 the pupils, 84; his man- 
 ner 85 
 
 Teaching, by parables, 187; 
 
 by stories 187 
 
 Technique, inferior part of 
 music, 106; should rest 
 on scholarship, 106; im- 
 proved by memorizing 189 
 
 Thinking tones 59 
 
 Thought and music, 59; 
 necessary for good work, 
 97; mysterious operation 
 
 of.! * ... 114 
 
 Thoughtlessness, the evils 
 
 of 97 
 
 Time, for memorizing music, 
 192; for cultivating imag- 
 ination 230 
 
 Tone of feeling 245 
 
 Tragedian must memorize.190 
 
 Trained mind, beauty of 3 25 
 
 Training, in education 110 
 
 Tyndall, on the uses of imag- 
 ination 209 
 
 Tyranny of habit 77 
 
 Unlearning habits 79 
 
 Undivided attention 90 
 
 Vain musicians 106 
 
 Value, of memorizing music, 
 
 189; of imagination to 
 
 the musician 230 
 
 Varieties of memory 167 
 
 Vibrations, perceptible to 
 
 the senses 57 
 
 Violinist, who is the great... 99 
 
 Violin players, tricks by 225 
 
 Visualizing habit 175 
 
 Vividness, examples of 133 
 
 Voice, capacity of 57 
 
 Voluntary attention, law 
 
 of 137 
 
 "Wagner, on musical clair- 
 
 voyance,222;"Rheingold"261 
 Waterloo and Eton school 74 
 Watt and the tea-kettle Iid208 
 Wellington, Duke of , on hab- 
 it in education 74 
 
 West, Benjamin, and his 
 
 mother's kiss 85 
 
 Whately, on training 110 
 
 Will, power of necessary, 
 94; and the way, 94; in- 
 fluenced by music, 143; 
 nature of 271; freedom of, 
 
 273; cultivation of 274 
 
 Wirt, motto of 92 
 
 Wonders of memory 167 
 
 Work, the condition of suc- 
 cess, 92; chief pleasure of 
 Mozart, 92; does won- 
 ders, 87 92 
 
 Works of imagination 197 
 
 Wrong views of music 9 
 
 Wundt, on after-effects of 
 nerve action, 69; on aes- 
 thetic feelings, 255 
 
 Youth, memory in 157 
 
 Youthful associations 140
 
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