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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Psychology - an elementary text-book - -Author: Hermann Ebbinghaus - -Translator: Max Friedrich Meyer - -Release Date: August 16, 2016 [EBook #52823] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHOLOGY *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - PSYCHOLOGY - - AN ELEMENTARY TEXT-BOOK - - BY - - HERMANN EBBINGHAUS - - PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF HALLE; AUTHOR OF - “ÜBER DAS GEDÄCHTNIS,” “GRUNDZÜGE DER PSYCHOLOGIE,” ETC.; - EDITOR OF THE “ZEITSCHRIFT FÜR PSYCHOLOGIE” - - TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY - - MAX MEYER - - PROFESSOR OF EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY - IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI - - BOSTON, U.S.A. - - D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS - - 1908 - - COPYRIGHT, 1908, - BY D. C. HEATH & CO. - - - - -TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE - - -The present book is a free translation of Ebbinghaus’s “Abriss der -Psychologie” (Veit & Co., Leipzig, 1908). It is intended primarily to -serve as a text-book for college students, but it should appeal also to -the general reader. It will commend itself through its brevity and the -excellent proportions of the material selected. The translator became -interested in this book because of the fact that the author has -succeeded in keeping entirely free of all fads, and has presented only -that which is generally accepted by psychological science; on the other -hand, he has given to the highest constructive processes of the human -mind, religion, art, and morality, the attention which they deserve -because of their tremendous importance for human life. - -In some places the original text has been somewhat condensed, -particularly in the description of the anatomy of the nervous system in -section 2. Section 4 of the original has been omitted, since its -contents seemed to be sufficiently emphasized in the other sections of -the book. The numbers of the following sections differ, therefore, from -those of the German text. The translator regards this as insignificant, -since his intention is not to aid his brother-psychologists in making -themselves acquainted with Ebbinghaus’s views,--for this end they are -referred to the German original,--but to furnish an elementary text-book -for the English-speaking student. Wherever there was any doubt as to the -comprehensibility to the American student of any application or -illustration of the laws discussed by the author, the translator has -unhesitatingly sacrificed the interest of the professional psychologist -to that of the beginner-student. In a few places he has made slight -additions to the original; for instance, figures 7, 8, and 9 are his own -property. But he has decided to abstain from enumerating all changes, -since this would be of interest only to the professional psychologist. -In no case are his additions opposed to the author’s views. - -The questions added to each section are not exercises to be worked out -by the student or puzzles to be solved by the general reader. They are -intended to serve as an aid to the intelligent perusal of the book, by -directing the reader’s attention to the essential contents of each -section. - -M. M. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -INTRODUCTION - -PAGE - -A SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF PSYCHOLOGY 3 - - -CHAPTER I - -GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY - -§ 1. BRAIN AND MIND 27 - -§ 2. THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 30 - 1. The Elements of the Nervous System 30 - 2. The Architecture of the Nervous System 34 - 3. The Anatomy of the Nervous System 38 - 4. The Nervous System and Consciousness 41 - -§ 3. EXPLANATION OF THE FUNCTIONAL RELATION BETWEEN - BRAIN AND MIND 43 - 1. The Brain a Tool of the Mind 44 - 2. The Brain an Objectified Conception of the Mind 47 - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SPECIAL FACTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS - -_A._ _The Elements of Mental Life_ - -§ 4. SENSATION 50 - 1. The Newly Discovered Kinds of Sensation 50 - 2. The Other Sensations 57 - 3. Temporal and Spatial Attributes 65 - 4. Sensation and Stimulus 69 - -§ 5. IMAGINATION 78 - -§ 6. FEELING 81 - -§ 7. WILLING 85 - -_B._ _The Fundamental Laws of Mental Life_ - -§ 8. ATTENTION 87 - -§ 9. MEMORY 93 - -§ 10. PRACTICE 99 - -§ 11. FATIGUE 102 - -_C._ _The Expressions of Mental Life_ - -§ 12. PERCEPTION AND MOVEMENT 105 - -§ 13. THOUGHT AND MOVEMENT 108 - - -CHAPTER III - -COMPLICATIONS OF MENTAL LIFE - -_A._ _The Intellect_ - -§ 14. PERCEPTION 114 - - 1. Characteristics of Perception 114 - 2. Illusions 120 - -§ 15. IDEATION 123 - -§ 16. LANGUAGE 128 - - 1. Word Imagery 128 - 2. The Acquisition of Speech 130 - 3. The Growth of Language 135 - 4. The Significance of Language 139 - -§ 17. JUDGMENT AND REASON 142 - - 1. Coherent Thought 142 - 2. The Self and the World 145 - 3. Intelligence 148 - -§ 18. BELIEF 152 - -_B._ _Affection and Conduct_ - -§ 19. COMPLICATIONS OF FEELING 162 - - 1. Feeling Dependent on Form and Content 162 - 2. Feeling Dependent on Association of Ideas 164 - 3. Irradiation of Feeling 167 - -§ 20. EMOTIONS 168 - -§ 21. COMPLICATIONS OF WILLING 173 - -§ 22. FREEDOM OF CONDUCT 176 - - -CHAPTER IV - -HIGHEST ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS - -§ 23. EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE 183 - -§ 24. RELIGION 189 - -§ 25. ART 196 - -§ 26. MORALITY 204 - -CONCLUSION 210 - -INDEX 213 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - -Multipolar Cell Body 30 - -Pyramidal Cell Body 31 - -Dendrites of a Nerve Cell of the Cerebellum 31 - -Various Types of Cell Bodies 32 - -Longitudinal Section of a Nerve Fiber with Stained Fibrils 32 - -Terminal Arborization of Optical Nerve Fibers 33 - -Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Reflex Arches connected by a -Low Nerve Center 36 - -Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Lower Nerve Centers connected -by a Higher Center 36 - -Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Higher Nerve Centers connected -by a Still Higher Center 37 - -Frontal Section of the Right Cerebral Hemisphere 39 - -Sections of the Cerebral Cortex 40 - -Localization of Peripheral Functions in the Cerebral Cortex 41 - -Color Pyramid 59 - -“A Burnt Child fears the Fire” 111 - -Two Possibilities of Perception 120 - -Varieties of Perception 121 - -Visual and Kinesthetic Control of Voluntary Action: the Former - -Intact, the Latter Lost 175 - - - - - PSYCHOLOGY - - AN ELEMENTARY TEXT-BOOK - - - - - PSYCHOLOGY - - - - -INTRODUCTION - -A SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF PSYCHOLOGY - - -Psychology has a long past, yet its real history is short. For thousands -of years it has existed and has been growing older; but in the earlier -part of this period it cannot boast of any continuous progress toward a -riper and richer development. In the fourth century before our era that -giant thinker, Aristotle, built it up into an edifice comparing very -favorably with any other science of that time. But this edifice stood -without undergoing any noteworthy changes or extensions, well into the -eighteenth or even the nineteenth century. Only in recent times do we -find an advance, at first slow but later increasing in rapidity, in the -development of psychology. - -The general causes which checked the progress of this science and thus -made it fall behind the others can readily be stated:-- - -“The boundaries of the Soul you cannot find, though you pace off all its -streets, so deep a foundation has it,” runs a sentence of Heraclitus, -and it hits the truth more fully than its author could ever have -expected. The structures and functions of our mental life present the -greatest difficulties to scientific investigation, greater even than -those presented by the phenomena, in many respects similar, of the -bodily life of the higher organisms. These structures and processes -change so unceasingly, are so fleeting, so enormously complex, and -dependent on so many factors hidden yet undoubtedly influential, that it -is difficult even to seize upon them and describe their true substance, -still more difficult to gain an insight into their causal connections -and to understand their significance. We are just now beginning to -recognize the full force of these difficulties. Wherever in recent years -research in any of the many branches of psychology has made any -considerable advance,--as in vision, audition, memory, judgment,--the -first conclusion reached by all investigators has been, that matters are -incomparably finer and richer and fuller of meaning than even a keen -fancy would previously have been able to imagine. - -There is, besides, a second obstacle. However difficult it may be to -investigate the nature and causal connections of mental phenomena, -everybody has a superficial knowledge of their external manifestations. -Long before these phenomena were considered scientifically, it was -necessary for practical human intercourse and for the understanding of -human character, that language should give names to the most important -mental complexes occurring in the various situations of daily life, such -as judgment, attention, imagination, passion, conscience, and so forth; -and we are constantly using these names as if everybody understood them -perfectly. What is customary and commonplace comes to be self-evident to -us and is quietly accepted; it arouses no wonder at its strangeness, no -curiosity which might lead us to examine it more closely. Popular -psychology remains unconscious of the fact that there are mysteries and -problems in these complexes. It loses sight of the complications because -of the simplicity of the names. When it has arranged the mental -phenomena in any particular case under the familiar designations, and -has perhaps said that some one has “paid attention,” or has “given free -rein to his imagination,” it considers the whole matter explained and -the subject closed. - -Still a third condition has retarded the advance of psychology, and will -probably long continue to do so. Toward some of its weightiest problems -it is almost impossible for us to be open-minded; we take too much -practical interest in arriving at one answer rather than the other. King -Frederick William I was not the only person who could be persuaded of -the danger of the doctrine that every mental condition is governed by -fixed law, and that in consequence all of our actions are fully -determined--a doctrine fundamental to serious psychological research. He -believed that such a teaching undermined the foundations of order in -state and army, and that according to it he would no longer be justified -in punishing deserters from his tall grenadiers. There are even to-day -numerous thinkers who brand such a doctrine dangerous. They believe that -it destroys all possibility of punishment and reward, makes all -education, admonition, and advice meaningless, paralyzes our action, and -must because of all these consequences be rejected. - -In a similar way the discussion of other fundamental questions, such as -the real nature of mind, the relation of mind and body in life and -death, becomes prejudiced and confused on account of their connection -with the deepest-rooted sentiments and longings of the human race. In -recent years this has been the case especially in connection with the -question of the evolution of mental life from its lower forms in the -animals to its higher in man. What ought to be taught and investigated -on its own merits as pure scientific theory, as the probable meaning of -experienced facts, comes to be a matter of belief and good character, or -is considered a sign of courageous independence of spirit and -superiority to superstition and traditional prejudice. All of this is -quite comprehensible when we consider the enormous practical importance -of the questions at issue. Yet such an attitude will scarcely be of much -help in finding answers most correct from a purely objective standpoint; -it rather discourages the advance of research along definite lines. - -Nevertheless, as we have stated in the beginning, psychology has now -entered upon a positive development. What favorable circumstances have -made it possible to overcome, at least in part, the peculiar opposing -difficulties? - -There are many; but in the end they all lead back to one: the rise and -progress of natural science since the sixteenth century. However, this -has made itself felt in two quite different ways; the force of the first -wave was increased to its full magnitude by a closely following second -wave. First, natural science served--if we overlook the hasty -identification of mind and matter which had its origin in natural -science--as a shining and fruitful example to psychology. It suggested -conceptions of mental life analogous to those conceptions which had been -found to make material processes comprehensible. It led to attempts at -employing methods similar to those which had proved valuable in natural -science. This influence was especially active in the seventeenth and -eighteenth centuries, and lasted into the nineteenth. Later a more -direct influence began to make itself felt: an actual invasion by -natural science of special provinces of psychology. Natural science, in -the course of its further development, was led at many points into -investigations which lay as well in the sphere of psychology as in its -own prescribed paths. When it attacked them and worked out beautiful -solutions for them, psychologists also received a strong impulse not to -stand aside, but to take up those problems themselves and pursue them -independently for their own quite different purposes. So it was in the -nineteenth century, especially in its second half. - -Let us discuss more in detail a few particular results of this twofold -general influence. - -As the first important fruit of that indirect advancement through -analogy, may be instanced the idea of the absolute and inevitable -subjection to law of all mental processes, which I have just said forms -the foundation of all serious psychological work. This was a familiar -idea as far back as the later period of ancient philosophy, but was -afterwards repudiated by the theological representatives of philosophy -and psychology in the Middle Ages. To be sure, they always felt more or -less attracted toward this view on account of the doctrine of the -omnipotence and omniscience of God. For if God is almighty, then there -can be no event in the future, either in the outer world or in the heart -of man, which does not depend entirely on him; and if he is also -all-knowing, or if in the eternity of God the human differences of past -and future altogether disappear, then the future must be already known -to God, and in consequence be fixed unalterably. But in spite of this -argument, these medieval thinkers felt bound to affirm a spiritual -freedom (that is, a merely partial determination) under the pressure of -popular psychological and ethical thought and in consequence of their -contemplation of the holiness and justice of God. For how could God have -willed the sinful deeds of man, or have caused them, even indirectly? -Or how could he punish men for doing things which they were compelled to -do by unalterable laws which he himself had made? Although, so it was -argued, man had his origin in God, he was nevertheless not absolutely -bound by the divine within him; he could turn away from it voluntarily, -that is, causelessly. - -The influence of the rising natural science led to the opposite answer -to the question as to whether the basis of our responsibility is -spiritual freedom or universal causation. Hobbes and Spinoza became the -champions of universal causation, presenting their answer to the -question with a clearness and incisiveness imposing even to-day. Leibniz -too adopted it, but took care not to offend those holding to the other -view. It has never been lost again from psychology. These men teach that -the phenomena of the mental life are in one respect exactly like those -of external nature, with which they are indeed closely connected: at any -moment they are definitely fixed through their causes, and cannot be -otherwise than as we actually find them. Freedom of action in the sense -of causelessness is an empty concept. It follows from this that one can -properly mean by freedom of action only that there is no compulsion from -without, that the action of a thing or being is determined only by its -own nature, its own indwelling properties. We say of water that it flows -along freely if it is not checked by rocks or dams; or of a horse, that -it runs about freely, if it is not tied up or locked in a stall. We can -in this sense call the good deeds of a person or his living together -with other people his own free action, if it springs from his own -deliberations and desires and is not coerced by force or threats. -Nevertheless all these manifestations, the flowing, the running about, -and also the good actions, are alike the regular effects of definite -causes. - -What constantly prevents men from recognizing this causality and leads -them to a belief in a misinterpreted freedom, is solely their ignorance. -Out of the multitude of motives for their actions they see, in most -cases, only a single one; and if the action which takes place does not -correspond with it, they are convinced that the decision occurred -without cause. “A top,” says Hobbes, “which is spun by boys and runs -about, first towards one wall then towards another, would think, if it -perceived its own motion, that it moved about by the exercise of its own -will, unless it happened to know what was spinning it.” In the same way -people apply for a job or try to make a bargain and think that they do -this by their own wills; they do not see the whips by which their wills -are driven. In order to understand correctly the thoughts and impulses -of man, we must treat them just as we treat material bodies, or as we -treat the lines and points of mathematics. The pretended dangers of such -a conception of things disappear, as soon as we face them without -prejudice and try to understand them. The conception may be misused, -especially by people of immature mind, but “for whatever purpose truth -may be used, true still remains true,” and the question is not, “what is -fit to be preached, but what is true.” - -Supported by this view of a universal determination of mental activity, -there has arisen the idea of a special determination, likewise copied -from natural science. The coming and going of our thoughts is ordinarily -considered as an unregulated play, defying calculation. That order rules -even here, that the train of thought is governed by similarity to the -mental states just present, or by a previous connection with these -mental states, was clearly recognized and expressed even in the times of -Plato and Aristotle. Yet this had remained merely the knowledge of a -curiosity; no theoretical use whatever was made of it. Now it was -brought into connection with newly recognized physical facts. This -determination of the trains of thought depends, according to Hobbes, on -the fact that our ideas are connected with material movements within the -nerves and other organs, and that these movements, when once started, -cannot immediately cease, but must gradually be consumed by resistance. -The laws of association are to him in the spiritual sphere, what the law -of inertia is in the physical. To Hume, a hundred years later, they -depend on a kind of attraction, an idea suggested by Newton’s law of -gravitation. And since inertia and attraction had been recognized as the -most important and fundamental causes of material processes, it was a -natural thing to regard the laws of association, which had been compared -with them, as the fundamental phenomena of mental life, and to derive -from them as manifold and important consequences as had been done in the -case of the physical world. So arose the English associational -psychology. It attempted to explain the traditional faculties of the -mind, such as memory, imagination, judgment, and also the results of -their combined activity (for instance, the consciousness of self and of -the outer world) as natural and, so to speak, mechanical effects of the -laws of association governing the processes of mind. No doubt this -attempt, appearing also in a somewhat different form in the -sensationalism of France, represents, in spite of its one-sidedness, a -very great advance over the psychology of the past. - -Just as associationism corresponds to the explanatory natural science of -Galileo and Newton, the empirical psychology of the German -enlightenment corresponds to the descriptive science of Linnæus and -Buffon. But aside from a few exceptions, such as Tetens, its work must -be regarded as a failure. To be sure, its intention is also to explain -mental phenomena, to comprehend them first by careful introspection, and -then to find by analysis the simplest faculties from which they have -sprung. But its actual accomplishment does not go beyond a mere -description of the occurrences offering themselves to first observation. -And the results reached teach impressively that description is an -unfruitful task unless, as sometimes of late, it is made to include also -explanation. The numerous different expressions of mind, already -distinguished by popular psychology, are only arranged in certain groups -beside and above each other, and the explanation consists in presenting -each expression as the effect of a special faculty. Thus we obtain a -great multitude of complicated mental performances, inwardly related to -each other, which are made to stand on a footing of equality and perfect -independence, for example, perception, judgment, reason, imagination, -and also abstraction, wit, symbolism, and so on. Like mere little -_homunculi_ in the large _homo_, they act now in harmony, now in -opposition. The poetic faculty, for example, “is a coöperation of -imagination with judgment.” In connection with reason, imagination -produces foresight. “Wit often does harm to judgment, and leads it to -false verdicts.... Judgment must therefore be constantly on its guard -against wit.” The advancement in this case did not result from a -development of these views, but from their overthrow. But the opposition -raised was turned also against associationism. - -Of the defects of associationism this is the greatest: it gives no -explanation of the phenomenon of attention. The peculiar fact that of a -great number of conscious impressions or ideas simultaneously offered to -the mind, only a few can ever be carried through and become effective, -is not to be explained on the basis of the associative connection of -ideas. The associationists pass over this important fact either with -complete silence or with a very insufficient treatment, and thus put a -weapon into the hands of their opponents. The mind seems, in fact, in -the case of attention to mock at all attempts at explanation and to -prove itself, quite in the sense of the popular conception, a reality -separable from its own contents--standing face to face with them, and -treating them capriciously now in one way, now in another. - -It is the chief service of Herbart to have recognized a weak point here, -and to have attempted to remedy it. “The regularity of the mental life,” -he is convinced, “is fully equal to that of the movements of the stars.” -Physical analogies guide him in his attempt at explanation. He regards -ideas as mutually repellent structures, or, as it were, elastic bodies, -assigned to a space of limited capacity, forced together and made -smaller by mutual pressure, but never annihilating each other. If -several ideas are simultaneously called forth, they become conflicting -forces, on account of the unity of the mind, in which they are compelled -to be together, and on account of the opposition which exists among -them. In this struggle their clearness suffers and their influence on -consciousness is impaired. However, they do not perish, but become, to -the extent that they suffer, latent forces. - -As soon as the opposing factors lose their strength these latent forces -emerge again into full consciousness out of the obscurity in which they -have been buried. After making some further simple assumptions as to the -strength of these interferences, Herbart concludes that two ideas are -sufficient to crowd a third completely out of consciousness. To his -great satisfaction he thus gains from the consideration of a simple -mechanism “a solution of the most general of all psychological -problems.” By this problem he means the fact that of all the knowing, -thinking, wishing, which at any moment might be brought about by the -proper causes, only a very small part plays a significant rôle, while -the rest is not really lost. That is, he means the fact of attention. -But this principle of the mutual interference of ideas is not the only -one he uses. The second principle upon which his theory is based is that -of association. With these two weapons he takes up the fight against the -faculty psychology, and carries it to a successful end. He believes that -all those activities traditionally placed side by side, even feeling and -desire, can be made comprehensible as results of the mechanics of ideas. - -Yet Herbart seeks by still another means to “bring about a mental -science similar to the natural science: ... by quantitative methods and -the application of mathematics.” We find here and there before this time -the idea of advancing psychology by such means. The brilliant results -produced in natural science by measurement and calculation readily -suggested the idea that something similar might be done for psychology. -But the philosophical thinkers interested in psychology did not find the -right tools; they justified their inability by asserting that such an -undertaking was impossible. The most famous is the denial by Kant that -mathematics can be applied to the inner mental life and its laws, -because time, within which the mental phenomena would have to be -represented as occurring, has but one dimension. To be sure Herbart is -not actually the pioneer in this field: he never gave a single example -of how a measurement of a mental process was to be taken. However, he at -least recognized that the mental life is open to quantitative treatment, -not only with regard to time, but also in other respects. And in -attempting to solve problems quantitatively, through the statement of -numerical assumptions and their logical development to their -consequences, he so strongly emphasized a side of the matter which had -previously been wholly neglected, that more correct ways of clearing it -up were soon found. - -A strong and enduring influence was exerted by Herbart, yet the further -progress of psychology did not occur along the path marked out by him. -Many of his general assumptions, particularly those upon which his -calculations are based, were entirely too vague to appear probable -merely because a few of their consequences agreed with experience. -Besides, a strong opposition had arisen against the intellectualism -supported by him and by the associationists,--against the almost -exclusive regard for the thinking and knowing activities of the mind. If -mental life is really nothing but a machinery of ideas, a coöperation -and opposition of masses of ideas, what is such a thing as religion? Is -it a small complex of true and rational ideas, to which is added a large -complex of superstitious fables, invented, or at any rate cultivated, by -priests and princes, in order to keep men under their authority? So low -a valuation of religion is scarcely possible. Or, what is art? Are the -lyric poems of Goethe or the symphonies of Beethoven really only -institutions for the conveyance of knowledge through the senses, as the -name _esthetics_ indicates, or for the unsuspected instilling of ideas -which make men more virtuous or more patriotic? - -Certainly one thing which stands in the center of all mental life seems -entirely incomprehensible as the result of a mere mechanics of ideas, -that is, that unity of mind without which we could not speak of -personality, of character, of individuality, without which we could not -call one man haughty and another humble, one good and another bad, one -noble and another base. Because of this weakness in the theory numerous -great thinkers, Rousseau, Kant, Fichte, Schopenhauer, raised their -voices to insist upon the significance of the life of feeling and will -as well as of the life of ideas, even to give to the former the first -place, as the expression of mind’s most real inner being. Thus -intellectualism was opposed by what we now call voluntarism. - -This transferring of the conceptions of natural science to psychological -research, in spite of the mighty impulse it gave to psychology, was not -without its disadvantage. The first brilliant advances in natural -science were in the province of physics, especially of mechanics. It is -no wonder, then, that psychologists, in their gropings after something -similar, turned first to mechanical-physical processes. Inertia, -attraction, and repulsion, as we have seen, aggregation and chemical -combination, were the categories with which they worked. No wonder, -either, that facts were often distorted and their comprehension made -difficult. For if mind is a machine, it is certainly not such a machine -as even the most ingeniously constructed clock or as a galvanic battery. -It is bound up with the organic body, especially with the nervous -system, and on the structure and functions of the nervous system its own -existence and activity somehow depend. So, if one wishes to use material -analogies and to make them fruitful for the comprehension of mental -structures, they must be taken from organic life, from biology rather -than from physics and chemistry. We may find phenomena comparable to -individuality and character, to the mind’s feeling and willing, in the -unitary existence of every plant and animal organism, in the peculiar -determination of its instinct of life and in the many special branches -into which this instinct ceaselessly unfolds. And indeed the -specifically mechanical categories gradually disappeared from psychology -during the nineteenth century, and made way for the biological -categories--reflex, inhibition, practice, assimilation, adaptation, and -so on. Especially that great acquisition of modern biology, the theory -of evolution, was at once seized upon by psychologists, and was utilized -for gaining an understanding of the processes as well in the mind of the -individual as in human society. - -But side by side with such advances, springing from analogy and -adaptation, there arose in the nineteenth century another and more -direct influence of natural science, as previously mentioned. In its -natural progress scientific research came to touch upon psychological -problems at several points, and since it laid hold of them and followed -them out for its own ends, it immediately became a pioneer for -psychology. - -The first and at the same time the strongest of these impulses came from -the advance of the physiology of the senses. In the fourth decade of the -nineteenth century remarkably active and fruitful work in this field -began. Physiologists and physicists vied with each other in accurate -study of the structure and functions of sense organs. Naturally they -were not able to stop at the material functions in which they were most -directly interested. They could not forbear to draw into the circle of -their investigations those mental functions mediated by the -physiological functions and explainable on a physiological basis. The -eye, especially, attracted scores of investigators, both because it is -very richly endowed with dioptric and mechanical auxiliary apparatus and -because it is particularly important on account of the delicacy and -diversity of its functions. Yet cutaneous sensations and hearing were -not neglected. - -Johannes Müller, E. H. Weber, Brewster, and above all--especially -versatile, far-seeing, and inventive--the somewhat younger Helmholtz, -are only a few of the most noteworthy representatives of this class of -research. They brought to psychology results such as it had never known -before--results resting on well-conceived and original questions as to -the nature of things, and on skillful attempts at arranging the -circumstances for an answer, that is, on _experiment_ and when possible -on exact _measurement_ of the effects and their causes. When Weber in -1828 had the seemingly petty curiosity to want to know at what distances -apart two touches on the skin could be just perceived as two, and later, -with what accuracy he could distinguish between two weights laid on the -hand, or how he could distinguish between the perception received -through the muscles in lifting the weights and the perception received -through the skin, his curiosity resulted in more real progress in -psychology than all the combined distinctions, definitions, and -classifications of the time from Aristotle to Hobbes. The surprising -discovery of hitherto unknown sense organs, the muscles and the -semicircular canals, was made at that time, although not thoroughly -verified until later. That discovery meant not only an increase of -knowledge, but also a widening of the horizon, since the most -conspicuous peculiarity of these organs is that they do not, like the -others, bring to our consciousness external stimuli in the ordinary -sense, but processes on the inside of the body. - -One result in particular of these investigations in the physiology of -the senses became the starting point of a strong new movement. The -course of biology in the second quarter of the nineteenth century was -toward methodical and exact study of empirical facts, and away from -speculation in the philosophy of nature. But for some time this exact -study and this speculation were often to be found combined in the same -men. Fechner was one of these. On the one hand he was a speculative -philosopher, a follower of Schelling’s philosophy of nature, a disciple -of Herbart in his attempt at applying mathematics to psychology. So we -find him speculating as to what might be the exact relations between -body and soul, seeking for a mathematical formulation of the dependence -of the corresponding mental and nervous processes. One October morning -in 1850, while lying in bed, he conceived a formula which seemed to him -plausible. In spite of this speculative tendency he was a physicist of -scientific exactness, accustomed to demand a support of facts for such -plausible formulas, ready to attack problems not only with his mind, but -also with his hands. In following up his speculations he came across -some of the results of the work of Weber. By the use of more exact -methods and by long-continued series of experiments he carried Weber’s -investigations farther, at the same time utilizing the observations of -others to which no one had before paid any attention. He succeeded in -formulating the first mathematical law of mental life, Weber’s law as he -called it, according to which an increase of the external stimulus in -geometrical progression corresponds to the increase of the mental -process in arithmetical progression. (We shall discuss this law in § -4.) He classed together all of his speculations, investigations, -formulations, and conclusions as a new branch of knowledge, -Psychophysics, “the scientific doctrine of the relations obtaining -between body and mind.” - -Fechner’s work called forth numberless books and articles, confirming, -opposing, discussing it, or carrying its conclusions still further. The -chief question which they discussed, the question whether the law -formulated by Fechner was correct or not, has gradually lost its -importance, and made way for other problems. Quite aside from this -question, which originally formed the center of interest, Fechner’s work -has made itself felt in three different ways. Herbart’s mathematical -fiction of the combat among ideas had made such an impression upon the -thinkers of the time, that--incredible as it may seem--as late as 1852 -Lotze confessed that he would prefer it to formulas found by experiment. -For this fiction Fechner substituted a scientific law derived from -actual measurement of physical forces. Further, he gave to these facts -their proper place in a broad system, showed their significance for the -deepest psychological problems, and thus compelled even those -psychologists who had affiliated themselves with philosophy and had -previously remained unaffected by the physiology of the senses, to take -notice of the new movement in their science. And finally, he worked out -a methodical procedure for all psychophysical investigations, which was -far superior to the methods then employed by psychologists and which -continues to be of great use for the study of sensation and perception. - -At about the same time, in the sixties, psychology received a third kind -of impulse. Although weaker than the two just mentioned, it contributed -not a little toward increasing the number of psychological problems to -which experimental methods could be applied. - -In the year 1796 the Reverend Nevil Maskelyne, director of the Greenwich -observatory, noticed that the transits recorded by his assistant, -Kinnebrook, showed a gradually increasing difference from his own, -finally amounting to almost a full second. He suspected his assistant of -having deviated from the prescribed method of observation, the so-called -eye and ear method, and of having substituted some unreliable method of -his own. He admonished the young man to return to the correct method and -do better in the future. But his admonition was in vain, and he found -himself obliged to part with his otherwise satisfactory assistant. -Kinnebrook lost his position on account of the deficient psychological -knowledge of his time. It was not until two decades later that Bessel -discovered that such differences between the results of observations by -different individuals were quite general and normal, and that in -Kinnebrook’s case they were only unusually great. They depend on the -manner of giving attention to both the sound of the pendulum and the -sight of the moving star, which naturally differs in different -individuals. - -At first this question of the so-called personal equation remained a -purely practical astronomical problem. But a few decades later it gave -rise to two classes of investigations of psychological importance, both -of the experimental kind. The first was an investigation of a -comparatively simple problem--the duration of the mental processes. -Among such processes measured were the simple perception, the -discrimination of several perceptions, the simple reaction to them, the -reproduction of any suggested idea, the reproduction of a specific -suggested idea, and so forth. Not only was the duration of these -processes studied, but also their dependence on differences of -stimulation, the accompanying circumstances, the individual differences, -the subject’s trend of thought. The second class of investigations was -concerned with the more complex mental processes of attending and -willing. As examples may be mentioned inquiries into the attention of a -person confronted by a multitude of impressions, a study of the order in -which the several impressions are perceived, a determination of the -largest number of impressions perceptible as a mental unit, and research -into the causal relations between ideas and actions. - -A more recent contribution of natural science to the advancement of -psychology has come from investigations in the physiology and pathology -of the central nervous system since the discovery about 1870 of the -so-called speech center by Broca, and of the motor areas of the brain -cortex by Fritsch and Hitzig. Some have placed a rather low value on -this contribution and, noticing the errors and immature conceptions of -this or that investigator, have arrived at the conclusion that -psychology can learn nothing worth mentioning from the work of these -men. This, it seems to me, is a great mistake. - -Quite aside from innumerable details, psychology owes to the -investigations made in recent years concerning the physiology of the -brain two fundamental conceptions. In the first place it has come to be -generally recognized that the search of centuries for the exact seat of -the soul in the brain--for the point where mind and body come into -interaction--is without an object. There is no seat of the soul in this -sense; the brain is the embodiment of almost absolute decentralization. -Our mind receives the impressions of the external world by means of -widely separated parts of the brain, as different sensations, according -to the peripheral organs stimulated. And our mind controls our actions -by means of widely separated parts of the brain according to the local -differences of the muscle groups which are called into action. All the -parts of the brain are connected, but they function in relative -independence, without being controlled from a single point. Now, it is -clear that insight into this fact is of no little significance for our -conception of the nature of mind. - -In the second place it is only through the work of these neurologists -that psychologists have come to realize how enormously complicated are -even those mental functions which have always been regarded as -comparatively simple. That the speech function, for example, involves -consciousness of sound, of movement, and sometimes of sight, may be -recognized immediately, and has been recognized. That our images of -things are directly nothing but revived sense impressions of various -kinds, visual, auditory, olfactory, and so on, and that our skill in -handling things depends upon our experience obtained through running our -fingers over them, is also recognized. But that all these images are -more than abstractions, that they have a concrete significance even -though the subject may not be aware of them, has been recognized only -after the study of pathological cases, where, in consequence of peculiar -lesions of the brain a dissociation has occurred among those factors -which usually work together harmoniously, and where some of them are -perhaps entirely lost. It was not until these pathological facts were -known that psychology was able to give a definite formulation to certain -of its problems. It then became clear that many former problems which -took their origin from those popular simplifications, will, judgment, -memory, or from the seeming simplicity of ideas and movements, were -perfect nonsense, considering the actual complexity of the facts. Now, -after having learned how to formulate its problems, psychology can at -last hope to understand the phenomena of mental life. - -The study of the brain has also had an indirect influence upon -psychology through the strong impulse which it gave to psychiatry. The -knowledge gained in the study of the abnormal mind gave a new insight -into the processes of the normal mind. And since psychiatrists most -often came into contact with the highly complex mental states, such as -emotion, intelligence, self-consciousness, the impulses which they gave -to psychology were a happy supplement to those other influences which -concerned chiefly sensation and perception. - - * * * * * - -During the last decades of the nineteenth century all these buds of a -new psychology were--first by Wundt--grafted on the old stem and so -united into an harmonious whole. They have rejuvenated the apparently -dying tree and brought about a strong new growth. The psychology of the -text-book and the lecture room has become a different science. The most -conspicuous sign of this new conception of the science of the mind is -the establishment of numerous laboratories exclusively devoted to -psychological research. - -In earlier times psychology was but the handmaid of other interests. -Psychological research was not an end in itself, but a useful or -necessary means to higher ends. Usually it was a branch or a servant of -philosophy. Men took it up particularly in order to understand the -foundations of knowledge, or how our conceptions of the natural world -originated, and this again in order to draw metaphysical or ethical -conclusions, to settle the controversy between idealism and -materialism, to answer the question as to the relation of body and mind, -to derive rules for a rational conduct of life, often also with the mere -purpose of confirming views springing from some other source. Others -took up the study of psychology with a practical aim, for example, in -order to find out how to make the most of their lives, or how to improve -their memories. It is, to be sure, greatly to be hoped that psychology -will not entirely lose its connection with philosophy, as natural -science has unfortunately done. At no time, indeed, has the practical -importance of psychology, its great usefulness in education, psychiatry, -law, language, religion, art, been more strongly felt, or given rise to -more numerous investigations than at present. But it is now recognized -that, here as elsewhere, it is more fruitful for the true and lasting -advancement of philosophical ends, instead of always thinking of -advancing them, to forget them for the time, and to work on the -preliminary problems as if these preliminary problems were the only ones -existing. And so psychology, formerly a mere means to an end, has come -to be regarded as a special science, to which a man can well afford to -give his full time and energy. - -A few data may illustrate what we have just said. Until the last decades -of the nineteenth century psychology has not been able to support a -journal of its own. A few attempts in this direction were made in the -eighteenth century, when two psychological periodicals were started; but -neither published more than a few volumes. Even in the middle of the -last century magazine articles of psychological content were rare enough -and appeared only in philosophical, physiological, or physical journals. -During the last thirty years a complete revolution has taken place in -this respect, more remarkable than in any other branch of science. -First at longer intervals, then in quick succession, numerous purely -psychological journals were founded in the principal civilized -countries, of which none thus far has been compelled to retire on -account of lack of either contributors or readers. We count at present -at least fifteen, six of them in German, four in English, three in -French, one in the Italian language, and one representing the -Scandinavian peoples. And there is an equal number of periodical -publications of single investigators and institutions, and also numerous -writings of psychological importance published in philosophical, -physiological, psychiatrical, pedagogical, criminological, and other -journals. - - - QUESTIONS - - 1. How old is the science of psychology? - - 2. What do you know about its early growth? - - 3. What are the difficulties besetting psychology? - - 4. What is the origin of popular psychology? - - 5. Why is psychology so much hampered by prejudice? - - 6. State the two ways in which psychology has been influenced by - natural science. - - 7. How was psychology influenced by medieval theology? - - 8. Who were the opponents of theological psychology? - - 9. What does freedom of action mean? - - 10. What kind of ignorance is the cause of the belief in absolute - freedom? - - 11. How did the associational psychology originate? - - 12. What is meant by the faculty psychology? - - 13. What does psychology owe to Herbart? - - 14. What is voluntarism? - - 15. Why are mechanical explanations of mental life inadequate? - - 16. From which science can psychology obtain the most fruitful - analogies? - - 17. Which science gave in the earlier part of the nineteenth - century the strongest direct impulse to psychology? - - 18. What is psychophysics and who is its author? - - 19. What is meant by the personal equation? - - 20. What experimental investigations were suggested by the personal - equation? - - 21. How did the study of the physiology of the brain influence - psychology? - - 22. Is psychology a special science? - - - - -CHAPTER I - -GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY - - -§ I. BRAIN AND MIND - -As we all know, the processes of our mental life stand in the closest -relationship with the functions of the nervous system, especially with -the functions of its highest organ, the brain. Local anemia, that is, a -lack of blood in the brain, causes fainting, a cessation of -consciousness; on the other hand, during mental work the blood pressure -in the brain is higher than usual and metabolism is increased. Narcotic -or poisonous drugs, as alcohol, caffein, and morphine, which influence -mental activity, do this by means of their effect on the nervous system. -Aside from such experiences, there are two special groups of facts upon -which our knowledge of this relationship is based. - -First the dependence of mental development on the development of the -nervous system. This is most conspicuous when man and animals are -compared. It is somewhat obscured, however, by the relation of the size -of the brain to the size of the animal. The larger animal has as a rule -the larger brain. Therefore the brain of man can be compared only with -the brain of such animals as are of nearly the same size. When such a -comparison is made, man is found to be no less superior in nervous -organization than in intelligence. His brain is about three times as -heavy, absolutely and relatively, as that of the animals most nearly -approaching him, the anthropoid apes; eight to ten times as heavy as -the brain of the most intelligent animals lower down in the scale, for -instance large dogs. Similar relations between brain weight and -intelligence are found in the human race itself. Of course, we cannot -expect that this relation will always be found in a comparison of only -two individuals. The conditions are too complex for such a regularity to -exist; but it is easily demonstrated when averages of groups of -intelligent and unintelligent men are compared. We do not expect, -either, that in every individual case physical strength is exactly -proportional to the weight of the muscles, although no one doubts that -strength depends on the weight of the muscles. - -The second of the facts upon which our knowledge of the relationship -between mental life and nervous function is based, consists in the -parallel effects of disturbances of their normal condition. Diseases or -injuries of the brain are, as a rule, accompanied by disturbances of the -mental life. On the other hand, mental disturbances can often be traced -to lesions or structural modifications in the brain. This cannot be done -in every case; but the actual connection is none the less certain. It is -often very difficult to decide whether or not any mental abnormality -exists. Expert psychiatrists have for weeks at a time observed men -suspected of mental disease without being able to pronounce judgment. -Equally difficult is the discovery of material changes in the brain and -its elements. Much progress has been made in recent times in this -respect; but it is still far from easy to recognize the more delicate -changes in nervous structure resulting from disease. Certain -abnormalities may never become directly visible although they involve -disturbances of function, for instance, abnormalities in the nutrition -of the nervous elements or changes in their normal sensitivity. No -wonder, then, that for many mental diseases, as hysteria, corresponding -material lesions are not yet known. But the correctness of our thesis is -so strongly secured by the enormous number of cases in which it has been -demonstrated, that no one doubts that it applies also to those cases in -which, often for good reasons, its demonstration has thus far been -impossible. - -Of much importance is the particular form of this relationship between -brain function and mental life. Popular thought attributes the chief -classes of total mental activity to special parts of the brain. Judgment -is thought to have its seat behind the thinker’s high forehead. The -occipital part of the brain is, according to the medieval philosophers, -the organ of memory. And so Gall’s phrenology met with ready acceptance -from the public at large, which was delighted to learn that musical -ability, mathematical talent, religious sentiment, egotism and altruism, -and many other character traits had their special organs in the brain. -But anatomists and physiologists have not been able to admit the -plausibility of this doctrine. - -Yet popular thought has, on the other hand, always emphasized the unity -of mind. Those who regard its unity as the chief characteristic of mind -have for centuries sought for the single point in the brain where the -mind can be said to have its seat. If it were distributed all through -the brain, would it not be possible to cut the mind into pieces by -simply cutting the brain? - -That both these views of the relation between brain and mind are -inadmissible has become certain. Since about forty years ago the truth -in this matter has been known. But to understand it clearly it is -necessary first to familiarize ourselves with the construction of the -nervous system. - - - QUESTIONS - - 23. What do we learn from a comparison of brain weight and - intelligence? - - 24. What is the relation between nervous pathology and mental - abnormality? - - 25. Is phrenology admissible? - - 26. What view concerning the relation of brain and mind is - suggested by the unity of mind? - - -§ 2. THE NERVOUS SYSTEM - -1. _The Elements of the Nervous System_ - -[Illustration: FIG. 1.--MULTIPOLAR CELL BODY.] - -The number of elements making up the nervous system is estimated at -about four thousand millions. It will help us to comprehend the -significance of this number if we understand that a man’s life devoted -to nothing but counting them would be too short to accomplish this task, -for a hundred years contain little more than three thousand million -seconds. These elements are stringlike bodies, so thin that they are -invisible to the naked eye. They are generally called _neurons_. Within -them different parts are to be distinguished. The part which is most -important for the neuron’s life is a spherical, bobbin-shaped, -pyramidal, or starlike body, called the ganglion cell or cell body, -located usually near one of the ends of the long fiber of the neuron, -but sometimes nearer the middle of the fiber. The length of the fiber -varies from a fraction of an inch to several feet. The fiber may be -compared with a telephone wire, inasmuch as its function consists in -carrying a peculiar kind of excitatory process. - -[Illustration: FIG. 2--PYRAMIDAL CELL BODY. - -_a_, Nerve fiber with collaterals.] - -[Illustration: Fig. 3.--DENDRITES OF A NERVE CELL OF THE CEREBELLUM.] - -At both ends of the neuron are usually found treelike branches. When the -cell body is located near one of the ends of the fiber, many of these -branches take their origin from the cell body and give it the pyramidal -or starlike appearance illustrated by figures 1, 2, and 4. These -branches are called dendrites, from the Greek word for tree, _dendron_. -How wonderfully complicated the branching of a neuron may be is -illustrated by figure 3. In addition to the dendrites a neuron possesses -another kind of branches, resembling in character the tributaries of a -large river, entering into it at any point of its course. These are -called collaterals (lowest part of figure 2). - -[Illustration: FIG. 4.--VARIOUS TYPES OF CELL BODIES. - -_1_ and _2_, Giant pyramidal cell bodies; _n_, nerve fiber.] - -[Illustration: FIG. 5.--LONGITUDINAL SECTION OF A NERVE FIBER WITH -STAINED FIBRILS. - -_a_, Medullated sheath.] - -The ganglion cells have a varying internal structure, which may be made -visible to the eye when the cells have been stained by the use of -different chemicals. They are found to contain small corpuscles with a -network of minute fibrils between them, as shown in figures 1 and 4. The -nerve fibers, too, in spite of being only 1/40 to 1/500 mm. thick, -permit us to distinguish smaller parts (fig. 5). The core consists of a -bundle of delicate, semi-fluid, parallel fibrils, the axis-cylinder. -This is surrounded generally by a fatty, marrow-like sheath, and in the -peripheral parts of the system this sheath is again inclosed in a -membrane. Certain fibers attain a considerable length, for example, -those which end in the fingers and toes, having their origin in the -spinal region of the body. - -The treelike branches of the main fiber and of the collaterals, if far -away from the cell body, are sometimes called the terminal arborization, -from the Latin word for tree, _arbor_ (fig. 6). The treelike branching -has most probably a functional significance of great importance. It -enables the endings of different neurons to come into close enough -contact to make it possible for the nervous processes to pass over from -one neuron into another neuron, without destroying the individuality, -the relative independence of each neuron. - -[Illustration: FIG. 6.--TERMINAL ARBORIZATION OF OPTICAL NERVE FIBERS.] - -Wherever large masses of neurons are accumulated, the location of the -ganglion cells can be found directly by the naked eye. The fibers are -colorless and somewhat transparent. Where they are massed together, the -whole looks whitish, as is the case with snow crystals, or foam. The -ganglion cells, however, contain a dark pigment, and where many of them -are present among the fibers, the whole mass looks reddish gray. -Accordingly one speaks of white matter and gray matter in the nervous -system. - -The nature of the excitatory process for the carriage of which the -neurons exist is still unknown. It is certain, however, that this -process is not an electrical phenomenon. Electrical changes accompany -the nervous process and enable us to recognize its presence and even to -measure it; but they are not identical with the nervous process. -Probably it is a kind of chemical process, perhaps analogous to the -migration of ions in the electrolyte of a galvanic element, the lost -energy being restored by the organism. Two facts are especially -noteworthy. The velocity of propagation has been found to be about 60 -meters per second in the human nervous system. In the lowest animals -propagation is often considerably slower. It is clear, therefore, that -it is an altogether different magnitude from the velocities found in -light, electricity, or even sound. - -A second fact is the summation of weak stimulations. The second one -produces a stronger effect than the first, the third again a stronger -effect, and so on. It also happens that a number of successive stimuli -produce a noticeable effect, whereas one of these stimuli alone, on -account of its weakness, would produce none. On the other hand, if -strong stimuli succeed one another, the effect becomes less and less -conspicuous. The neurons are fatigued, as we say, and require time for -recuperation. - - -2. _The Architecture of the Nervous System_ - -The elements of the nervous system just described are combined into one -structure according to a surprisingly simple plan, in spite of its -seeming complexity. This apparent complexity results chiefly from the -enormous number of elements entering into the combination. The purpose -of the nervous architecture may be briefly described thus: The -conductivity of the nervous tissue is employed to _bring all the sensory -points of the living organism into close connection with all the motor -points, thus making a body capable of unitary action out of a mere -accumulation of organs, each of which serves its specific end_. Walking -along and meeting an obstacle, I must be able first to look about and -find a way of pushing it aside or climbing over it, and then to push or -climb. This is impossible unless my eyes are connected with the muscles -of the head, the arms, the legs. Perhaps I am inattentive, or it is -dark, so that I run against the obstacle with my feet or my body. In -this case it is necessary that the sensory points of my skin be -connected with all those muscles. Hearing a call, I must be able to turn -my head so that I may hear more distinctly the sound I am expected to -perceive; but I must also be able to move my tongue and the rest of my -vocal organs in order to answer, or, as the case may require, my arms -and legs in order to defend and protect myself. Thus the ear and all -other sensory points of the body must be closely connected with all the -motor points. - -It is plain, then, that the simplest kind of nervous system must consist -of three kinds of neurons: sensory (often called afferent), motor (often -called efferent), and connecting neurons. To improve the working of such -a system, the afferent and the efferent neurons, and especially the -connecting (associating) paths, are developed by the introduction of -additional neurons, serving to cross-connect the primary chains of -neurons. Figure 7 illustrates the architecture of an exceedingly simple -nervous system of the most rudimentary kind. - -A perfection of the system is brought about by a superstructure built on -essentially the same plan. Figure 8 is a diagram illustrating this. The -points _S´_ and _M´_ correspond to the points of the same names in -figure 7. But several systems (three in the diagram) like that of figure -7 have been combined by connecting neurons in exactly the same manner in -which the combination was effected in figure 7. In this higher system -(nerve center, we should call it) the points _S´´´_ and _M´´_ have a -significance comparable to that of _S´_ and _M´_. - -[Illustration: FIG. 7.--DIAGRAM OF NERVOUS ARCHITECTURE: REFLEX ARCHES -CONNECTED BY A LOW NERVE CENTER. - -(From Psychological Review, 15, 1908.)] - -[Illustration: FIG. 8.--DIAGRAM OF NERVOUS ARCHITECTURE: LOWER NERVE -CENTERS CONNECTED BY A HIGHER CENTER. - -(From Psychological Review, 15, 1908.)] - -Several of these larger systems (three in the diagram) are combined -again by means of connecting neurons in exactly the same manner as -before. This is illustrated by figure 9. The points _S´´´_ and _M´´´_ -have a significance like that of _S´_ and _M´_, _S´´´_ being nearer to -sensory points of the body than to motor points, _M´´´_ being nearer to -motor points. This system of connecting neurons represents again what we -may call a higher nerve center--higher still than those which are -combined in it. - -[Illustration: FIG. 9.--DIAGRAM OF NERVOUS ARCHITECTURE: HIGHER NERVE -CENTERS CONNECTED BY A STILL HIGHER CENTER.] - -Thus we may conceive any number of systems, one still higher than the -other. And we may understand how it is possible that simpler mental -functions may enter into a combination, forming a unitary new function, -without completely losing their individuality as functions of a lower -order; for combinations of simple functions represented by _direct_ -connections into complex functions are brought about only by mediation -of higher connecting neurons which represent the _less direct_ -connections of sensory and motor points. The most manifold associations -are made possible. A practically inexhaustible number of different -adaptations is structurally prepared, so that the most complicated -circumstances and situations find the organism capable of meeting them -in a useful reaction. This type of nervous system is the property of the -highest animals and of man. The lower type of nervous system is -represented by the reflex arches of the so-called spinal and subcortical -centers. The higher type is represented by the cerebrum and cerebellum, -which during a process of evolution covering hundreds of thousands of -years have gradually been developed to serve as the highest centers of -the nervous system. - - -3. _The Anatomy of the Nervous System_ - -The most prominent part of the nervous system is that inclosed within -the skull and the vertebral column. The spinal cord runs all through -this column up to the skull. Entering into the skull, it thickens and -forms what is called the bulb (medulla oblongata). It then divides into -several bodies, which are referred to as the subcortical centers, -because they are located below the cortex, which is the surface layer of -the cerebrum, or large brain. These subcortical centers contain the -central ends of neurons which are links of chains of afferent neurons -coming from the higher sense organs and from the sensory points of the -skin and the internal organs. Chains of efferent neurons, on the other -hand, take their origin in the subcortical centers, reaching at their -peripheral ends the motor points of the body, that is, the muscle fibers -of our skeletal muscles and of the muscle tissues contained in the -alimentary canal and the other internal organs. - -Above and partly surrounding the subcortical centers are the large brain -and the cerebellum or small brain. The ganglion cells of the neurons -contained in the cerebrum and cerebellum are all located near the -surface or cortex. There seems to be a peculiar advantage--not yet -perfectly understood--in having the gray matter spread out over the -surface of the cerebrum and cerebellum in as thin a layer as possible. -To this end the surface of the cerebrum is much increased by the -formation of large folds, separated by deep fissures (see figure 10). -In the cerebellum the folds are more numerous and exceedingly fine, and -they do not have the appearance of being the product of fissuration. The -surface of the cerebrum is estimated to be equal to a square with a side -eighteen inches long. Without the fissures the surface would be only -about one third of this. The mixture of ganglion cells and fibers making -up the gray matter of the brain is illustrated in figures 11 and 12. -Both are sections of the cortex of the cerebrum. In figure 11 the cell -bodies alone are stained and thus made visible; in figure 12 the fibers -alone are stained. - -[Illustration: FIG. 10.--FRONTAL SECTION OF THE RIGHT CEREBRAL -HEMISPHERE.] - -From what has been said thus far it is clear that certain areas of the -cortex must be connected with certain groups - -[Illustration: FIG. 11.--SECTION OF THE CEREBRAL CORTEX. - -Only the cell bodies are stained.] - -[Illustration: FIG. 12.--SECTION OF THE CEREBRAL CORTEX. - -Only the fibers are stained.] - -of sensory points or motor points of the body much more directly than -with others. This is confirmed by histological, pathological, and -experimental investigations. For the eyes and the ears, for the muscles -of arms and legs, hands and feet, even the several fingers and toes, the -corresponding areas of the cortex--that is, the areas with which there -is direct connection--are definitely known. Figure 13 conveys an idea of -the relation between certain parts of the brain and the sensory and -motor organs of the body. - -[Illustration: FIG. 13.--LOCALIZATION OF PERIPHERAL FUNCTIONS IN THE -CEREBRAL CORTEX.] - - -4. _The Nervous System and Consciousness_ - -We have already touched on the question as to the relation between the -nervous system and consciousness. It is evident that no single point of -the nervous system can be regarded as the long-searched-for seat of the -soul, since no single point is structurally or functionally -distinguished from all others. But it does not follow that mental -functions are localized in different parts of the brain according to -the popular conception of judgment, memory, will, and so on, each -depending on a special part of the brain. There is no more truth in the -similar assertions of phrenology. Localization of function in this sense -is impossible. Judgment is not a mental function which can be separated -from memory and attention. No more separable from each other are such -functions as religious sentiment, filial love, self-consciousness. The -sensational, ideational, and affective elements of these functions are -to a considerable extent the same. - -Localization of mental functions really means this:--Since there is a -division of labor among the sensory and motor organs of the body, and -since each of these organs is most directly connected with certain areas -of the cortex and much less directly with the other areas, it is to be -expected that certain states of consciousness will occur only when -certain areas of the cortex are functioning. It is but natural that the -province of the cortex most directly connected with the eyes serves -vision, including both visual perception and visual imagination; that -the province of the cortex most directly connected with the ears serves -audition. Who would expect anything else? In the same sense, the -sensations of touch, of taste, and so on, are localized in the brain. -The same rule holds good for movements. When our limbs move in -consequence of some thought concerning them, the areas of the cortex -which are most closely connected with them must function, while other -areas may remain inactive. Activity of our vocal organs, in the service -of our mind, can occur only by the influence of that province of the -cortex which is most directly connected with the muscles of the vocal -organs. But how varied are the thoughts which may bring about action of -the vocal organs! On the other hand, how diversified may be the -movements by which a mother may react upon the crying of her child! In -either case it may be right to say that our mind is localized in the -brain as a whole--not, of course, equally in every infinitesimal -particle, but distributed through the brain in a manner comparable to -the distribution of the roots and branches of a tree. - - - QUESTIONS - - 27. To what kind of things are the neurons comparable? - - 28. How many neurons does the nervous system contain? - - 29. What kinds of branches does a neuron possess? - - 30. What are white matter and gray matter? - - 31. How does the velocity of a nervous process compare with other - velocities in nature? - - 32. What is the general function of the nervous system? - - 33. Can you draw a diagram illustrating the architecture of a - simple and of a more complex nervous system? - - 34. How can simpler nervous functions enter into a combination - without completely losing their individuality? - - 35. What is meant by subcortical? - - 36. What is meant by afferent and efferent neurons? - - 37. How large is the surface of the brain? - - 38. What is meant by sensory and motor areas of the cortex? - - 39. Where is the seat of the soul? - - -§ 3. EXPLANATION OF THE FUNCTIONAL RELATION BETWEEN BRAIN AND MIND - -How the functional relation between the mind and the nervous system -should be explained, is a question discussed for centuries and variously -answered. But all the answers are essentially either the one or the -other of these two: (1) Either the brain is a tool of the mind, or (2) -it is an objectified conception of the mind itself. - - -1. _The Brain a Tool of the Mind_ - -Popular thought, supported by desires common to all human beings, -readily accepts the view that mind is essentially different from matter, -that its laws are in every respect different from the laws of material -nature, and that the brain, being a part of the material nature, is -simply the special tool used by the mind in its intercourse with nature. -Consider what a contrast seems to exist between logical certainty and -the mere probability derived from more or less deceptive sense -impressions, between voluntary attention and sensual desire, between -religious inspiration and ordinary perception, artistic creation and -everyday work. Nevertheless, these highest as well as the lowest -activities of the mind need a tool with which they can get into -communication with the world; and this tool, says popular thought, is -the brain. By means of this tool the mind can take possession of the -world and shape it at will. This explanation of the functional relation -between the mind and the nervous system agrees well with the facts above -discussed concerning brain weight and intelligence, and nervous -pathology and mental abnormality. That the magnitude, the architecture, -the normal condition of a tool have an influence on the task performed, -is plain enough. Many a piece of music can be played on a large organ -having a great variety of stops, whereas its performance on a small -instrument would be impossible. Raffael might have deserved the name of -a great painter if born without arms, but the world would never have -known it. - -The facts of localization of function, however, do not agree so well -with this tool conception of the brain, which always leads us back again -to the theory that the mind takes hold of its tool at a single point. If -the mind can suffer or produce _this_ change only here, _that_ change -only there, it is difficult to see why we should regard it as an -altogether separate entity. Some have pointed out, as an analogy, that -truth too is everywhere, and because of its absolute unity, everywhere -in its totality, without being bound to space and time. I must doubt, -however, if truth is present where such analogies are worked out, for -nothing can be less clear than the assertion that truth has unity. Mind -is not everywhere in its totality, neither in the brain nor in the whole -world. It is partly here, partly there; as seeing mind it is in the -occipital convolutions of the brain, as hearing mind in the temporal -convolutions. Thus we are forced, if we regard the brain as the mind’s -tool, to regard the mind as an entity possessing spatial form. If we -reject this conclusion, we must also reject the premise that the brain -is the mind’s tool. - -There are two other difficulties of very considerable importance. One of -them is compliance with the principle of the conservation of energy. If -mind is an entity independent of the brain, if the brain is a tool which -mind can use arbitrarily, without having to obey the laws of the -material world, there would be a serious break in the continuity of -natural law, and the principle of the conservation of energy would -suffer an exception. - -Until recently it was, not probable, but at least possible, that this -principle of the conservation of energy was not strictly correct when -applied to conscious beings, especially to man. But in recent years -direct experiment has proved that it applies to the dog, and even to -man. In an animal performing no gross muscular work the energy supplied -by the food is completely transformed into heat, which is absorbed by -the animal’s surroundings. Rubner has found as the result of very exact -measurements that the heat produced by an animal during several weeks -is within one half of one per cent (that is, within the probable error) -equal to the quantity of chemical energy received from the food. One -might think that it would be rash to apply conclusions reached by -experimenting on a dog to man, whose mental life stands on a much higher -level. But even this objection has been removed by Atwater. He performed -similar experiments on five educated persons, varying the conditions of -mental and muscular activity or relative rest. The result is the same. -Taking the total result, there is absolute equality between the energy -supplied and the energy given out; in the human organism, mind has thus -been proved to be subject to the laws of the natural world. - -The second difficulty spoken of consists in the fact that, accepting the -view which regards the brain as the mind’s tool, we cannot well avoid -regarding the mind as a kind of ghost or demon, similar to the demons -with which the imagination of primitive peoples populates the -universe--gaseous and usually invisible men, women, giants, or dwarfs. -Mankind has always felt strongly inclined to believe in the existence of -such demons, and is still fond of making them the subjects of fairy -tales and similar stories. But the more mature experience of the last -centuries of human history has eliminated them from our theories of the -actual world and assigned them their proper places in tales and -mythology. Winter and summer, rain and sunshine, even the organic -processes in the heart or the spinal cord are understood only by -excluding from the explanation the assumption of such demons. The same -is by analogy true for the processes in the brain, for the brain is not -likely to be an exception to the rule. It is more difficult, of course, -to determine directly whether such a demon exerts his influence in the -inaccessible cavity of the skull than it is on the street or even in a -haunted house. But no assertion is entitled to be regarded as true -merely because we cannot go to the place in question and observe that it -is false. Why not assert that heaven is located on the back side of the -moon and hell in the center of the sun, merely because no one can see -with his own eyes that they are not there? We must make only those -assumptions which, considered from all points of view, have a high -degree of probability, not those which flatter our vanity or appeal to -us as the fashionable belief of the time. Now, it does not seem probable -that our brain is the residence of a separable demon, no matter whether -we attribute to him the power of changing at will the total amount of -energy contained in our body, or conceive his activity, as some -psychologists do, as a new form of energy added to the mechanical, -thermal, electric, chemical, and so on,--requiring only an additional -transformation of energy and not breaking down the principle of its -conservation. - - -2. _The Brain an Objectified Conception of the Mind_ - -If we cannot regard the brain and the mind as two independent entities, -scarcely any other conception of them is possible except as a single -entity of which we may obtain knowledge in two ways, an objective and a -subjective way. _Mind_ knows itself directly, without mediation of any -kind, as a complex of sense impressions, thoughts, feelings, wishes, -ideals, and endeavors, non-spatial, incessantly changing, yet to some -extent also permanent. But _mind_ may also be known by other minds -through all kinds of mediations, visual, tactual, and other sense -organs, microscopes and other instruments. When thus known by other -minds, mind appears as something spatial, soft, made up of -convolutions, wonderfully built out of millions of elements, that is, as -brain, as nervous system. By mind and brain we mean the same entity, -viewed now in the aspect in which mind knows itself, now in the aspect -in which it is known by other minds. - -Suppose a person is asked a question and after some hesitation replies. -In so far as this act is seen, heard, and otherwise perceived (or -imagined as seen, heard, or otherwise perceived), it is a chain of -physical, chemical, neurological, etc., processes, of material processes -as we may say. But that part of the chain of material processes which -occurs in the nervous system may not only be known by others, but may -know itself directly, as a transformation of perceptual consciousness -into thought, feeling, willing. The links of these two chains of -material processes in the brain and of mental states should not be -conceived as intermixed and thus forming one new chain, but rather as -running parallel--still better as being link for link identical. The -illusion that one of these chains brings forth the other is caused by -the fortuitous circumstance that they do not both become conscious at -once. He who thinks and feels cannot at the same time experience through -his sense organs the nervous processes as which these thoughts and -feelings are objectively perceptible. He who observes nervous processes -cannot at the same time have the thoughts and feelings as which these -processes know themselves. Those objective processes, however, which go -on outside of the nervous system, in particular those outside of the -experiencing organism, in the external world, precede or follow mental -states as causes generally precede their effects and effects follow -their causes. There is no objection to speaking of a causal relation -between material processes of this kind and mental states. - -Whatever explanation of the functional relation between brain and mind a -person may accept, he need not constantly be on his guard lest he be -inconsistent. We speak of the rising and setting sun without meaning -that the earth is the center of the universe and that the sun moves -around it. So we may also continue to speak quite generally of the -material world as influencing our mind, and of the mind as bringing -about changes in the material world. - -Our view of the relation between body and mind leads to the further -conclusion that, as our body may be distinguished from its parts without -having existence separate from its parts, so our mind may be -distinguished from the several states of consciousness without having -existence separate from them. Mind is the concept of the totality of -mental functions. As self-preservation is the chief end of all bodily -function, so self-preservation is the chief end of mental life. - - - QUESTIONS - - 40. Do the facts of comparative anatomy and of localized function - agree with the view that the brain is the mind’s tool? - - 41. Is mind subject to the law of the conservation of energy? - - 42. Is mind a demon interfering with the laws of nature? - - 43. What is the cause of the illusion that nervous processes bring - forth mental states, or that mental states bring forth nervous - processes? - - 44. Why is it correct to regard certain events going on outside of - the organism--and even in the organism, but outside of the nervous - system--as effects or as causes of certain mental states? - - 45. Is there any objection to distinguishing our mind from the - several mental states? - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SPECIAL FACTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS - -_A._ _THE ELEMENTS OF MENTAL LIFE_ - - -§ 4. SENSATION - - -1. _The Newly Discovered Kinds of Sensations_ - -We shall discuss first the simplest facts of mental life, later their -complications. It has often been objected that such a treatment is not -in harmony with the fact that we are more familiar with the -complications than with the simpler facts. But we are also more familiar -with our body than we are with muscle cells, nerve cells, and blood -corpuscles, and yet we do not object to beginning the study of biology -by a study of the structural elements and their chief properties. No one -understands this to mean that the cells of various kinds existed first -separately and were then combined into the body which consists of them. -No one should believe that the simple mental states existed separately -and were then combined into those complications with which we have -become familiar in everyday life. Simple mental states are abstractions. -But we cannot hope to understand the complexity of mental life without -using abstractions. - -Through the sense organs our mind receives information about the -external world. The traditional classification of the sensations divided -them into five groups. But the distinction of five senses has been -found to be insufficient. At least twice as many must be distinguished. - -When psychologists tried to explain all human knowledge in terms of -experience, they met with some difficulty in the description of our -experience of solid bodies. Tactual sensation was found to be -insufficient for this explanation, since it informs us only of the -side-by-side position of things, that is, of only two dimensions. It was -soon recognized that the movements of our limbs were important factors -in this experience, and the question was asked: How do we perceive the -spatial relations of our limbs and the resistances offered to changes in -these spatial relations, that is, to movements? The first answer to this -question was, that the muscles, being obviously a kind of sense organ -which gives us the familiar sensations of fatigue and muscular pain, are -also capable of sending in definite groups of afferent nervous processes -according to their conditions of contraction and tension. This answer -was quite true, as far as it went; and about 1870 the sensory neurons of -muscles were actually discovered. The tendons connecting the muscles -with the bones were also found to contain sensory neurons. - -But this cannot be all, for we are able to judge the position of our -limbs even when the muscles are completely relaxed and a limb is moved -by another person. It is further a fact that a weight and the distance -through which it is moved can be estimated with fair accuracy, whether -the arm is sharply bent or straightened out, although the contraction -and tension of the muscles is very different in these two cases. It is -now known with some certainty how these estimations are made possible. -The surfaces of the joints are furnished with nerves. Make a slow -movement of the hand or a finger and attend to the sensation resulting -from it. There is little doubt that the sensation is localized in the -joint. This view is supported by the fact that electrical stimulation of -a joint considerably decreases the accuracy of the estimation of weight -and movement. - -The three classes of sensations--muscular, tendinous, and articular--are -customarily grouped together under one heading as _kinesthetic_ -sensations, meaning literally sensations of movement. But, as we have -noted, these sensations occur as the result not only of movements of our -limbs, but also of pressure or pull when the limb is at rest. They -always occur together with tactual sensations, but must nevertheless be -strictly distinguished from them. - -Soon after this distinction had been recognized, the tactual, or rather -cutaneous, sense was found to consist of several senses. The impressions -of touch, that is, of pressure on the skin, of temperature, and of pain -had always been distinguished; but it had not been known that the areas -of greatest sensitivity for touch are not identical with those for -temperature, and that the sensitivity for pain may be greatly diminished -without a corresponding change in the sensitivity for touch. It was only -about 1880 that these observations were explained, when an anatomical -separation of the neurons serving these different sensations was -demonstrated. If we test the sensitivity of the skin by carefully -stimulating single points, it is found that not every point of the skin -is sensitive, but that the sensitive points are isolated by larger or -smaller insensitive areas. It is further found that the points sensitive -to warmth are different from those sensitive to cold or to pressure or -to pain. This can easily be demonstrated for the cold points by touching -the skin in a number of successive points with a steel pen or a lead -pencil. Generally only the touch is perceived, but now and then an -intense sensation of cold is felt on definite points, always recurring -when these points are touched. It is somewhat more difficult to -demonstrate the points sensitive to warmth. The sensation is in this -case much less noticeable. The points sensitive to touch are on hairy -parts of the skin always close to a hair; on other parts, for instance -the palm of the hand and particularly the finger tips, they are located -so close together that their separateness can be proved only by the use -of very delicate instruments. The same is to be said of the pain points -of the skin. We cannot, therefore, regard the skin as one organ of -sense, but must regard it as containing four classes of organs serving -the senses of warmth, cold, pressure, and pain. - -We must be sure, of course, to distinguish between pain, as a sensation, -and the feeling of unpleasantness which almost without exception -accompanies pain. We must further distinguish the sensation of pain from -intense cold, intense heat, strong pressure, dazzling light, all of -which may produce pain as a secondary effect. But the sensation of pain -is quite dissimilar from the sensations of cold, heat, pressure, and -light, to which it is added in consequence of physiological conditions. -The independence of the sensation of pain can easily be demonstrated by -touching the cornea of the eye with a hair. Pain is then perceived -without any touch or temperature sensation. The pricking sensation in -our nose resulting from the breathing of chlorine or ammonia may also be -mentioned as an illustration of the same point. Let us further -understand that pain is not only a cutaneous sensation, but also a -sensation localized in internal organs; for instance, headache, -toothache, colic. - -The most interesting discovery of a new sense organ concerns the -labyrinth of the ear. It was made quite unexpectedly. The labyrinth -consists of the inner ear proper, or the cochlea, the system of three -semicircular canals, and between these two organs a pair of small sacs, -each containing a little stone or otolith, built of microscopic lime -crystals. All these organs, being all of the nature of cavities filled -with fluid and communicating, were originally regarded as serving the -sense of hearing, although no one was able to say how. It was observed, -however, that stimulation or lesion of the semicircular canals and of -the sacs did not affect hearing, but resulted in disturbances of the -coördination of the muscular activities in locomotion and normal -position. For more than fifty years these observations remained -unexplained; and even then their explanation was but slowly accepted. - -It is now recognized that the semicircular canals and the sacs are not -organs of hearing, but organs informing the organism about the movements -or position of the head, and indirectly of the body as a whole. The -sensations coming from these organs are usually so closely bound up with -kinesthetic and tactual sensations that we have not learned to become -conscious of them as a separate kind. Nevertheless we may perceive them -separately under favorable circumstances. If we close our eyes, turn -quickly a few times on our heel, and suddenly stop, we are vividly -conscious of being turned in the opposite direction. This is a -perception mediated by the semicircular canals. The fluid ring in the -horizontal canal gradually assumes the motion of the body, in -consequence of its friction against the walls; and when the body -suddenly stops moving, the fluid ring continues to move and to stimulate -the sensory neurons for some time. If the body moves in a larger circle, -for example on a merry-go-round or on a street car passing around a -curve, the mind perceives an inclination of the body towards the convex -side of the curve. If we go up in an elevator, we have the impression, -just after the elevator has stopped, of moving a short distance down. -These are sensations of the otolith organs. - -The otoliths are slightly movable, one in the horizontal, the other in -the vertical direction. If the body moves through a curve, the otolith -which by centrifugal force is driven outwards stimulates the sensory -neurons in the same manner in which it stimulates them when the body is -inclined. The perception of the body’s position is therefore the same. -If the body is quickly moved up or down, the vertical otolith at first -lags behind, and at the stop, through its inertia, continues to move a -little in the same direction. The result is a brief perception of the -body moving in the opposite direction. - -Artificial stimulation or lesion of the semicircular canals or otolith -organs in animals tends to produce certain unexpected reflex movements -of the body which the animal tries to counteract voluntarily, so that -all kinds of unusual movements are observed. If these organs are -destroyed, one source of information about the position and the -movements of the body is lost. This loss is not very serious in man, in -whom it occurs as a result of diseases of the ear; man can obtain his -orientation from visual, kinesthetic, and pressure sensations in spite -of this loss. It is far more serious in aquatic and flying animals. -Pressure differences are of no account when the body has nothing but -water or air on all sides. In a greater depth of water vision is -practically impossible. Under these circumstances the semicircular -canals and the otolith organs are highly important for an animal’s life. -Unfortunately no definite names have thus far been adopted for these -senses. They are frequently called the static sense or the sense of -equilibrium. But these names are of doubtful value, since other senses -too may inform us about our equilibrium. - -The enumeration of our senses is not yet completed. What is hunger? What -is thirst? What is nausea? These mental states are certainly similar, in -some respects, to tones and odors. They are sensations. There is the -difference, however, that we do not project them into external space, -but think of them as characteristics of our own body’s condition. How is -consciousness of these sensations brought about? No doubt, in a manner -similar to that of the mediation of such sensations as odors and tones: -through the stimulation of sensory neurons and the propagation of -nervous processes toward the motor points of the body. The place of -stimulation must be somewhere in our organs of nutrition, and thus these -organs must be regarded also as a kind of sense organ. That the sensory -function can be attributed to an organ in addition to another function -has been proved by the example of the skin, muscles, and joints. The -same may be said of other organs, for instance the lungs giving us the -sensation of suffocation. - -We possess, therefore, a large number of organs whose primary function -is of an active kind, but which also give information as to the -condition of those active functions. The sensations resulting from them -are as independent of each other as tones are of color or taste. But -they do not permit of as many subdivisions as the sensations of the -so-called higher senses. For the emotional part of our mental life they -are of the greatest significance. Since we do not project them into the -external world, but think of them as significant of the functions of our -internal organs, they are rightly called by the common name of _organic -sensations_. - - -2. _The Other Sensations_ - -Besides the cutaneous sensations four classes were known to the older -psychology: sensations of color, sound, odor, and taste. The relation of -these sensations to the corresponding stimuli comprises a vast number of -problems and theories, but we shall here state merely that which is of -more general interest. - -The taste--in the ordinary sense--of a substance is by no means made up -exclusively of taste sensations in the special sense of this term. It is -usually a complex of different sensations which almost invariably occur -together. Only gradually do we learn to analyze this complex into its -elements. Touch sensations of the tongue and palate often enter into the -combination, for instance in a burning or astringent taste. Sensations -of smell are of particular importance in this connection. The different -kinds of meat, of wine, of bread, and of many other foods and beverages -are distinguished almost exclusively by the smell. Aside from these -accompanying sensations, there are only four tastes proper: sweet, sour, -salt, bitter, in all their possible mixtures and relative degrees of -intensity. In a manner comparable to the distribution of cutaneous -sensations, the taste sensations have their end organs at definite -points in the papillæ of the tongue and soft palate. The so-called taste -buds contained in the walls of the papillæ seem to be sensitive -according to the principle of the division of labor, some serving -chiefly this, others chiefly that taste. It is possible that all the -taste buds of the same papilla mediate the same taste sensation, so that -each papilla might be said to be in the service of a particular taste. - -The number of distinguishable odors is very large. Gaseous, fluid, and -solid substances, minerals, plants, and animals have usually their -characteristic, although often very faint, odors. As new substances are -discovered or new mixtures of substances invented, the number of odors -is increased. Unfortunately it has thus far been impossible to arrange -this multitude of odors in a system according to a simple plan. Various -groups of related odors have been formed by investigators (for example, -the odor of flowers, fruit, musk, onion, decaying matter). But it is -difficult to include all possible odors in such groups; and the relation -between these groups is still unknown. One reason for this difficulty in -understanding theoretically the sense of smell is the obvious fact that -this sense has degenerated in man. The organ of smell, a spot in the -upper part of each nasal cavity, is of small extent in man compared with -that of animals. Even more superior are the animals to man with respect -to the development of the olfactory nerve center. The degeneration is -the result of a lack of use. Man, walking upright, has but rarely an -opportunity of approaching objects with his nostrils closely enough to -be able to smell them. The animal, searching for food on the ground, -smells unceasingly. - -The opposite is true for color sensations. They, too, are numerous, -perhaps a million. But it is easy to group them into a system which -permits us to understand their interrelations. The relations between the -various colors are so simple that they can be symbolically represented -by a geometrical figure, a double pyramid with a four-cornered base, -like the one in figure 14. The vertical axis represents the visual -sensations which are colorless, arrayed so that the brightest white is -at one end, the darkest black at the other, the various grays between. -The base of the pyramids, which is not perpendicular to the axis, but -slanting, represents the series of colors of - -[Illustration: FIG. 14.--COLOR PYRAMID.] - -the spectrum plus the non-spectral purples, between red and violet, all -arranged in an orderly manner around the axis. The nearer we approach -the axis, the less saturated, that is, the more whitish, or grayish, or -blackish are the colors represented. The most saturated colors are -therefore represented by the peripheral line of the base. The base is -slanted because the most saturated colors are not all of the same -brightness (meaning by this term exclusively lightness as opposed to -darkness). The saturated yellow is much brighter than the saturated blue -and must therefore be located here, symbolically, nearer the point of -white than of black, while blue must be located nearer the point of -black than of white. The figure shows clearly that it is impossible to -deviate from the peculiar brightness of each saturated color without -diminishing the saturation, for we cannot move up or down from any point -of the peripheral line of the base and yet remain within the double -pyramid, without approaching the axis. But if our starting point is a -color of less than the maximum of saturation, we may change the -brightness within certain limits without changing the saturation, for -we may then, to a certain extent, move up and down parallel to the axis. - -Some have represented the color system by a double cone, using as common -base a circle. But a four-cornered base represents an additional fact of -experience which is lost sight of in the circular plane. The four colors -red, green, blue, and yellow possess this property: that any one of them -is entirely dissimilar in color tone to any of the other three, while -any given color other than these must resemble just two of these. No -other four or any other number of colors can be found which fulfill -exactly these conditions. In order to represent this fact symbolically, -we ought to give the colors red, green, blue, and yellow distinguished -places in the periphery of the basal plane, and this can be done most -easily by choosing as a base a four-cornered plane. - -By the aid of this color system it is easy to understand an abnormality -of our color sense which occurs rather frequently, so-called color -blindness. It is found almost exclusively among men, three per cent of -them being affected, whereas it is very rare among women, although it is -inherited through woman. Instead of three dimensions, two are sufficient -for the representation of the color sensations of such individuals: a -plane which is placed through the points white, black, blue, and yellow. -The color sensations represented by those points of the pyramid which -lie outside the plane just mentioned appear to the color-blind person -yellowish if they are located on either side of the yellow triangle, so -to speak; they appear bluish if they are located on either side of the -blue triangle, and colorless if located exactly on either side of the -axis. There are, however, a large number of minor differences not -included or even expressed incorrectly in the above brief statement; the -color-blind person, for instance, is more likely to see things yellowish -than bluish. Since color-blind people may sometimes confuse such -conspicuously different colors as red and green, they are often called -red-green-blind. That they also confuse greenish blue with violet seems -less remarkable to the normal person than the former fact. In testing a -color-blind person one must not expect to find that he will confuse any -red with any green. Brightness and saturation play here very important -parts, and all kinds of individual differences have been observed. -Nevertheless color-blind people fail to distinguish red and green much -more frequently than people having a normal color sense, and should -therefore be strictly excluded from any service in which the distinction -of red and green is of importance, as in railway and marine signaling. -For the normal person red and green are the ideal colors of signals, -because yellow is not always sufficiently different from white, and a -saturated blue is too dark. - - It is interesting to observe that colors are never simple or - complex in the sense in which a musical tone is simple and a chord - is a multitude of tones, or lemonade is a mixture of sour and - sweet. Any color sensation which is uniform over its area is as - simple as any other. The colors which, in our color pyramid, are - located between two of the four fundamental colors red, green, - blue, and yellow are “mixtures” only in the sense that the mixed - color _resembles_ two of those four, not that we are conscious of - two separate sensations in one act of perception. - - Nevertheless we often have to speak of mixed colors and of - principal colors entering into mixtures. These phrases have many - different meanings. Most colors which we see in actual life are - mixtures in a physical sense, mixtures of ether waves, although our - sense organ does not inform us as to whether they are mixtures or - homogeneous light. White or gray or purple can never be anything - but mixtures in this physical sense. In actual life the only color - which is often simple, homogeneous light, is dark red, for - physical causes which do not concern us here. But this physical - complexity is irrelevant for the psychological question as to the - simplicity or complexity of color sensation. - - Even more confusion has been carried into the psychology of color - by the fact that in dyeing and painting chemical substances are - sometimes applied as they occur in nature or come from the factory, - sometimes they are first mixed together and then applied. The - painter cannot afford to have an infinite number of color pigments - on the palette. He selects therefore a small number, at least - white, red, yellow, and blue. This is for many ends sufficient, and - he may therefore call these pigments his principal colors, and - wonder why one should call green a “fundamental” color, since he - can produce it by mixing blue and yellow. It is indeed no difficult - task to find people who, like Goethe, are convinced that they are - able to perceive in the green the yellow and the blue which the - painter used in order to give us the impression of green. - - Still another difference occurs in the use of the terms simple and - mixed colors in physiology, with reference to the processes going - on in the eye and the part of the nervous system connected with the - eye. It is plain, therefore, that whenever we speak of colors we - must state in what sense we do this. - -Auditory sensations are usually divided into two classes: tones and -noises. They do not often appear separately. A violin tone, for example, -is accompanied by some noise, and in the howling of the wind tones may -be discerned. Both may be perceived in many different intensities, and -both may be said to be low or high. Many thousands of tones may be -distinguished from the lowest to the highest audible. Within one octave, -in the middle region, more than a thousand can be distinguished. The -fact that in music we use only twelve tones within each octave arises -from special reasons: first, the difficulty of handling an instrument of -too many tones; and especially the fact that with a particular tone only -a limited number of others can be melodically or harmonically combined -with a pleasing result. - -Just as the colors, so the tones are a continuum, that is, one can pass -from the lowest to the highest tones without at any moment making a -noticeable change. We refer to this continuum by the word pitch. But -tones also possess what is called quality; that is, they are either -mellow or shrill. This mellowness is to some extent dependent on the -pitch of each tone, for low tones are never very shrill and high tones -never very mellow. But to some extent a tone may be made more or less -shrill and yet retain exactly the same musical value, the same pitch. -This is brought about by the overtones, of which a larger or smaller -number is nearly always added to musical tones. Without being perceived -as separate pitches the overtones influence our consciousness of the -mellowness of a tone--the fewer overtones, the mellower; the more -overtones, the shriller the tone. Each musical instrument has its -characteristic quality of tone, and in some instruments, especially in -organ pipes, the quality is skillfully controlled by the builder, who -“voices” each pipe so that it produces the required number of overtones -of the right intensities. - -It was said above that the overtones, as a rule, are not perceived as -separate pitches added to the pitch of the fundamental tone. It is not -impossible, however, to perceive them thus. Those who experience -difficulty in perceiving the overtones as separate pitches may use at -first special instruments, resonators, which are held against the ear -and greatly increase each the intensity of a special overtone. After -some practice one becomes aware of the pitch of an overtone without the -aid of a resonator. - -Noises may be classified into momentary and lasting noises. Examples of -the former are a click and the report of a gun; examples of the latter, -the roaring of the sea or the hissing of a cat. Many noises, as thunder, -rattle, clatter, and the noises of frying and boiling, are mixtures of -momentary and lasting noises. - -From all we have said it follows that the function of hearing is an -analyzing function, enabling the mind to separate that which has lost -its separate existence when it acts upon the tympanum. Two or three -tones sounding together are usually perceived as two or three tones. In -hearing music we can simultaneously listen to several voices. When two -people talk together we may to some extent follow them separately. This -is obviously an ability of great importance in animal life, since -different objects, characterized by different tones or noises, rarely -separate themselves spatially as the colors of different objects do, but -act upon the sense organ as a single compound. - -There are, however, certain exceptions to the analyzing power of the -ear. If two tones differ but little in pitch, they are not perceived as -two, but a mean tone is heard beating as frequently in a second as the -difference of the vibration rates indicates. The ear thus creates -something new, but of course something definitely depending on the -external processes. If two tones not quite so close in pitch are -sounded, one or even several new tones are created, combination tones or -difference tones, the pitch of the new tone being determined by the -difference of the rates of vibration. These difference tones do not seem -to serve any purpose in animal life. They are merely secondary -phenomena, of little practical consequence, but of much interest to the -student of the function of the organ of hearing. - -We have seen that the number of classes of sensations is fairly large; -but to state this number exactly is impossible. According as we count -the muscles, the joints, the lungs, the digestive organs as several -sense organs or as a single group, the number of classes of sensations -is larger or smaller. However, it matters little whether we count them -or not. We know that provision is made for everything needed. -Information about the most distant things is obtained through the eye; -information about the things in contact with the body or the body itself -comes through the cutaneous and organic sense organs. Most varied is the -information about things at a moderate distance, obtained through eyes, -ears, and nose combined. - -Many of the higher animals surpass man in one or the other respect -through their sensory equipment. Many of the birds (for example, the -carrier pigeons) have a sharper eye; dogs and other animals, a keener -sense of smell. The sense of hearing in man seems to be equal to that of -the higher animals, and the cutaneous sense perhaps superior. In one -respect man is better equipped than his mode of living justifies, that -is, in possessing the semicircular canals and the otolith organs, for -which he has scarcely any use. In another respect he, as well as the -animals, is very poorly equipped, that is, for the direct perception of -the electromagnetic-optic phenomena of physics, only a small range of -which can be perceived as a particular kind of sensations, namely, as -colors. - - -3. _Temporal and Spatial Attributes_ - -The study of the simple in mental life, as previously mentioned, is -always a study of abstractions. The actual experience even of the -briefest moment never consists of a single sensation. And actual -sensations are always characterized by more than the properties which we -have thus far discussed. Colors always occupy space of a certain size -and shape; tones come from a certain direction; both colors and tones -are either continuous or intermittent, they are perceived simultaneously -or in succession. We naturally inquire into the laws of these spatial -and temporal relations. Unfortunately psychologists have not yet agreed -on a definite answer to the question concerning space and time. The -question is beset with difficulties, partly real, partly imaginary. - -Is it possible to perceive temporal relations as sensory qualities as we -perceive colors, tones, tastes, and smells as sensory qualities? We -certainly lack a sense organ of time. But aside from this, it seems -impossible to perceive duration at its beginning, when the end is not -yet known; impossible to perceive it at the end, when its beginning no -longer exists and can only be recalled in memory. It seems equally -impossible to get direct knowledge of a spatial relation. Imagine one -particular point _a_ of the skin or the retina of the eye. If this is -stimulated, our mind receives a definite impression of touch or color, -but no indication of or reference to any other point, since no other -point is stimulated. Let the same be true for the point _b_. How, then, -if _a_ and _b_ are stimulated simultaneously, can the mind receive an -impression of distance between the two points, since there is no such -consciousness in the perception of either of them? If the mere fact of -an objective distance between the stimulated neurons were a sufficient -explanation, then tones too should be localized differently. - -Those who took these objections seriously tried to think of some means -by which the objective, but not directly impressive, spatial relations -could become known to the mind. It was suggested that the almost -unceasing movements of the eyes and fingers, the chief organs of space -perception, might have significance in this connection; that perhaps the -kinesthetic sensations of eye and finger movement, being added to the -visual or tactual impressions, made up the consciousness of spatial -relationship. - -All attempts, however, to prove the correctness of this and similar -theories by applying them to the details of special experience, have -failed. While there is no doubt that movements of our eyes and fingers -are of great importance for the development and extension of the spatial -consciousness in the individual as well as in the race, they are not the -source from which springs the individual’s ability to perceive spatial -relationship. The fundamental part of our ability of _spatial_ -perception is inborn, just as our ability to perceive light or blueness -or cold is inborn. From this inborn capacity for spatial perception the -individual’s delicate and elaborate sense of space is derived. - -The most convincing proof that there is an innate capacity for spatial -perception, is the spatial consciousness of persons born blind, to whom -an operation has given eyesight. The crystalline lenses of these persons -have been as little transparent as ground glass, so that they have been -unable to recognize any outlines of things. Nevertheless, they make -spatial distinctions immediately after the operation for removal of the -lens. Of course they cannot, without further experience, tell that a -round thing is the ball with which they have been familiar through the -sense of touch, or a long and narrow thing a walking stick. But they -immediately perceive the round thing as something different from the -long and narrow thing, without any tendency to confuse them. Spatial -extent is therefore an attribute of visual and tactual sensation as -brightness or darkness is an attribute of visual sensation, and -mellowness or shrillness an attribute of tone; with this difference -only, that spatial extent is not restricted to one sense, but is common -to visual and cutaneous sensations. That this is founded on some kind of -similarity of these senses cannot be doubted. But this similarity is to -be looked for in structural peculiarities of the nerve centers, not in -accessory mental states serving as special agents of spatial -consciousness. - -Very much the same is the case with time. Let us admit that the temporal -consciousness of our ordinary life is largely mediated by accessory -sensations and images. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, are not experienced -directly as properties of sense perception, but are extensions of -simpler experiences. But such extensions would be impossible if duration -and succession were not, somewhere in our mental life, direct -experiences. They are direct experiences in some very brief temporal -perceptions occupying, say, only a fraction of a second. The flash of a -lighthouse signal, the quick succession of sounds when a person knocks -at a door, are perceived as having temporal attributes without any -mediation by conscious states acting as agents. The _temporal_ -attributes are elements of perception no less direct than the intensity -of the light or of the sound. The same holds for all other sensations. -Time is an attribute common to all. But here, as in space, we cannot -tell exactly in what respect all senses are similar so far as the -nervous processes are concerned. It seems that these processes or their -after effects continue a certain time after the stimulation has ceased. - -Another attribute common to all sense impressions is the -belonging-together of sensations, the _unity in variety_, so to speak. -The most striking example is the relationship of tones in harmony and -melody. Tones of certain comparatively simple ratios of vibration belong -together in a higher degree than others. We cannot explain this by -reference to conscious agents mediating the effect. It is a fundamental -attribute of each tonal combination, the conscious effect of our -inherited nature. It is a property of sense, not of thought. - -In other cases our consciousness of relationship is indirect, mediated -by other conscious agents; for instance, when I group together -voluntarily four or five adjoining holes of a sieve and perceive them as -a unit. This grouping together would be impossible if the mind did not -possess the native ability to perceive a number of sensational elements -as a unit without altogether losing the consciousness of variety. It is -a mere consequence of our inborn nature when we perceive as such units, -for example, an animal romping among unchanging surroundings, a picket -fence divided into groups by the fence posts, a familiar compound -perfume, a dish made up of several familiar food substances. The same -holds for successive elements. We could never perceive tones or noises -in various rhythm forms if our mind did not possess the native ability -to perceive a number of successive elements of sensation under certain -conditions as a sensory unit. - -Our numerical concepts are obviously only abstract symbols for units -containing each a certain variety of elements. - - -4. _Sensation and Stimulus_ - -It is most interesting to observe the astonishing _absolute -sensitiveness_ of some of our senses, that is, their ability to respond -to exceedingly small stimuli. It has been a difficult task to design -physical instruments as sensitive to sound as the ear. It has not been -possible, thus far, to surpass the ear. The sensitiveness of the eye to -the faintest light is estimated to be a hundred times that of the most -sensitive photographic plates. Remember what a long exposure is -necessary to photograph things in a rather dark room; but the eye takes -a snap shot, so to speak, of a star of the fifth magnitude, or of a -landscape in diffused moonlight. Man’s organ of smell is far inferior to -that of many animals. Nevertheless a trace of tobacco smoke or musk in -the air whose presence no chemist could detect is easily perceived -through the nose. A gram is about one twenty-eighth of an ounce; a -milligram is one thousandth of a gram. One millionth of a milligram of -an odorous substance is sufficient to affect the organ of smell. Taste -also is sensitive, particularly when supported, as in tasting wine or -tea, by smell. The cutaneous and kinesthetic senses, on the other hand, -are not very sensitive. A weak pressure, a small weight, a slight tremor -of our limbs, a spatial extent, can be detected much more readily by -delicate instruments than by our fingers or our kinesthetic organs. - -Very important is the range of perceptibility. Our measuring laboratory -instruments are, as a rule, adapted only to a small range. To weigh a -heavy thing, like a stack of hay, we have to use a balance differing -from that used by the prescription druggist. The watchmaker’s tools are -much like those of the machinist, but neither could use the other’s -tools. Nature cannot well provide separate sets of tools for delicate -and gross work. With our hand we estimate the weight of ounces, pounds, -and hundredweights. The same ear which perceives a falling leaf can be -exposed to the thunder of cannon without ceasing to respond in its -normal way. The eye which perceives a small fraction of the light of a -firefly, can look at the sun somewhat covered by mist, radiating light -many million times as intense. No laboratory instrument has an equal -range of applicability. - -This wide range of usefulness is made possible partly by purely -mechanical provisions, partly by a special law of nervous activity -usually called Weber’s law. The iris of the eye with pupil in the center -is a readily changeable diaphragm. The stronger the external light, the -smaller the pupil, and the reverse; so that the eye is capable of -functioning at a stronger and also at a fainter illumination than it -could function if the width of the pupil were of a medium, unchangeable -diameter. The nose can smell faint odors better if larger quantities of -the odorous substances are by sniffing brought into contact with the -organ. Too strong odors are kept away by blowing out the air. - -More important, however, than such mechanical devices is the effect of -Weber’s law. If a stimulus is increased, the nervous excitation is also -increased,--not absolutely, but only relatively to the stimulus before -the increase. Suppose an oil lamp of ten candle power needs an addition -of a two candle power light to make me observe that the illumination has -changed. Nevertheless I shall not be able to observe a change of -illumination if to an incandescent gas light of sixty candles two -candles are added. The addition must be in proportion to the stimulus. -Since sixty is six times ten and twelve is six times two, twelve candles -must be added to make me observe the difference in illumination. To an -arc light of two thousand candles four hundred have to be added to -obtain the same result. If a postal clerk is able to recognize that a -letter which he weighs on his hand and which is one twentieth heavier -than an ounce, requires more than the one postage stamp attached to it, -he will probably be found capable of observing in the same manner that -a package of newspapers prepaid for one pound does not have the correct -number of stamps if it is actually one twentieth heavier than a pound. - -Another way of speaking of the law is this: If we imagine a definite -stimulus successively increased by such amounts that the change of the -sensation is each time just as noticeable as it was the last time, the -added amounts of the stimulus are a _geometrical progression_. Let us -express the fact that the change of the sensation can always be noticed -_with the same ease_, by saying that the additions to the sensation are -an arithmetical progression. We can then state Weber’s law in these -simple words: If the sensation is to increase in arithmetical -progression, the stimulus must increase in geometrical progression. This -statement is mathematically identical with the most widely adopted -statement of the law, namely, that _the sensation is proportional to the -logarithm of the stimulus_. - -The practical result of the law in our mental life is this: The mind is -informed of a further increase in the intensity of the stimulus (however -great this intensity may have become before this last increase) without -having to respond to the absolute intensity of the stimulus with a -correspondingly enormous activity of the animal organism. Thus the mind -is enabled, figuratively speaking, to weigh a stack of hay or a -druggist’s herb on the same balance, to apply the same tool to a watch -or to a railroad locomotive, or at least to perform its work with a much -smaller number of tools than would otherwise be required. In the eye, -for instance, we have, as we see below, only two different kinds of -receiving instruments for faint and for strong light. - - It must be mentioned, however, that Weber’s law does not hold good - over an unlimited range of intensities of stimulation. If the sun - were twice as bright, it would not appear brighter to the eye. For - such extreme intensities the law is no longer valid. Neither is it - valid for exceedingly low intensities; it makes no difference to - the eye whether the wall of a dark room is illuminated from a - distance of three or four yards by the glow of one cigarette or a - dozen. The logarithmic equation applies only to a certain--quite - large--range of medium intensities. For this range our - sensitiveness to change is not only constant, but also greatest. - Changes in illumination within this range can be perceived as soon - as the stimulus increases or decreases by about one hundred and - fiftieth. - - Weber’s law has still another practical significance. A thing which - we recognize by the aid of the differences in illumination of its - parts (as, for example, a stone relief) or by its differences in - loudness (as a rhythm beaten on a drum) always retains, not the - same absolute differences, but the same quotients or proportions of - the different light or tone values, however our distance from the - thing varies. Weber’s law, then, enables us to perceive the - identity of the thing although the absolute light or tone values - have undergone change. If our nervous activities were not regulated - in accordance with Weber’s law, the relief and the rhythm might - become unrecognizable at a greater distance, and the relief also at - dusk. - -A further important relation between our mental life and the external -world consists in our much greater sensitiveness to the moving and -changing than to the stable and permanent. A pencil point moved over the -skin under slight pressure gives us a perception of the length and -direction of the line traversed more accurate than the impression -received from the edge of a screwdriver pressed on the skin. On the -peripheral parts of the retina the sizes and distances of things are not -easily perceived; but no difficulty is experienced in noticing a waving -handkerchief or a starting animal. Only the small central part of the -retina is adapted to the perception of the motionless. - -The same statement holds for qualitative changes. The eye is not only -more sensitive to that which qualitatively changes than to that which -remains unchanged; it even loses its ability to perceive things if for -a considerable time no qualitative changes occur. We have seen that our -eye can take snap shots under conditions which would make this -impossible for the photographic camera. But for time exposures, like -those used in photographing faint stars, continued for hours, our eye is -not suited. The eye, in such a case, would soon cease to distinguish -anything. The eye completely fixed upon one set of objects soon sees -their lighter parts darker, their darker parts lighter, their colored -parts less colored--more grayish--that is, it sees everything gray on -gray. This is technically called adaptation of the eye. Moving the eye -suddenly, we become aware of this adaptation in peculiar after-images. - -Similar adaptations occur in other sense organs. Constant pressure on -the skin, unchanging temperature of not extreme degree, permanent odors, -cease to be perceived. But what is new, what differs from the condition -which was in existence just before, is perceived at once; and because of -the sense organ’s adaptation for something else, as a rule it is seen -with particular intensity. This is obviously the most favorable -equipment for a struggle for life. Nothing is more dangerous in battle -than surprise. - -Our present knowledge of the mechanical, chemical, and physiological -laws governing the peculiar dependence of the different kinds of -sensations on special properties of the sense organs--that which is -customarily called a theory of vision, a theory of audition, and so on, -is rather unsatisfactory. Some thirty years ago much seemed to be -perfectly explained which has since become mysterious again. This much -has been learned, that the laws in question are far more complex than -they were believed to be. - -Only one statement about eyesight can here be made without fear of -contradiction, that is, that the eye is a double instrument, one part of -the organ serving in daylight, the other at dusk and in twilight. But -this explains only a part of the total function of the eye. The retina -of the eye consists of a great number of elements called rods and cones, -forming a kind of mosaic. Twilight vision is served by the rods, which -contain a sensitive substance called the visual purple. Most of the rods -are in the peripheral parts of the retina, becoming less numerous toward -the center. In the central area there are no rods at all. The only -service of the rods is the mediation of a weak bluish-white sensation of -various intensities, as in a moonlit landscape. Ordinary day vision is -served by the cones, which are the only elements present in the center -and become rare towards the periphery. All the variety of our color -perception depends on the cones. In very faint illumination the colors -of things cannot be perceived, although the things may still be -distinguished from other objects. The rods alone are functioning then; -the cones have “struck work.” Neither can the shape of things be -perceived in dim light with normal definiteness, because the area of -most distinct vision, the central area, contains only cones; reading, -for instance, is impossible at twilight. The astronomer, in order to -observe a very faint star, must intentionally look at a point beside the -star, because of the lack of rods in the central area. - -While the human eye normally possesses both rods and cones, certain -species of animals have only one or the other kind of visual elements. -Chickens and snakes possess only cones. This is the reason why chickens -go to roost so promptly when the sun sets. Night animals, on the other -hand, have mostly rods and few cones. This explains why bats come out -only after sunset. In very rare cases human beings seem to possess only -the rods, in cases of total color-blindness. The whole world appears -colorless to them, only in shades of gray. They dislike greatly to be in -brilliantly lighted places. They lack the keenness of normal eyesight -because of the deficient function of the central area of the retina, -which is normally best equipped. - -A mechanical theory of hearing was worked out by Helmholtz nearly fifty -years ago. This theory was at first generally accepted, but has in -recent years lost much of its plausibility. The inner ear is a tube -coiled up in the shape of a snailshell in order to find a better place -in the lower part of the skull. Its coiling, of course, has little if -any mechanical significance. The tube is divided into two parallel tubes -by a kind of ribbon, the organ of Corti, containing the endings of the -auditory neurons and also a comparatively tough membrane. Helmholtz made -the hypothesis that the cross fibers of this membrane were under -constant tension like the strings of a piano. The comparison with a -piano was also suggested by the fact that the membrane in question -tapers like the sounding board of a grand piano. As the piano resounds -any tone or vowel, so this system of strings would resound any complex -sound; that is, each of the tones contained in the complex would be -responded to by those fibers whose tension, length, and weight determine -a corresponding frequency of vibration. The analyzing power of the ear -is well explained by this hypothesis, but there are considerable -difficulties left. For instance, the fibers of the membrane, even the -longest, are rather short for the low tones to which they are assumed to -be tuned. And for the assumption of a constant tension of these fibers -there is no analogon in the whole realm of biology, since living -tissues always, sooner or later, adapt themselves and thus lose their -tension. - -Another theory avoids these difficulties by merely assuming that the -ribbon-like partition of the tube, when pushed by the fluid, moves out -of its normal position only to a slight extent and then resists, and -that therefore the displacement of the partition must proceed along the -tube. If successive waves of greater and lesser amplitude, as we find -them in every compound sound, act upon the tympanum and indirectly upon -the fluid in the tube, the displacement of the partition must proceed -along the tube now farther, now less far, now again to another distance, -and so on. Accordingly, one section of the partition is displaced more -frequently, another section less frequently, others with still different -frequencies in the same unit of time. This theory then makes the -hypothesis that the frequency with which each section of the partition -is jerked back and forth determines the pitch of a tone heard, and -explains thus the analyzing power of the ear. What is chiefly needed in -order to decide in favor of either of these or any other theory is a -large increase in our knowledge through anatomical, physiological, and -psychological investigation. - - - QUESTIONS - - 46. What are the newly discovered kinds of sensations? - - 47. How were they discovered? - - 48. What are the cutaneous senses? - - 49. What is the objection to speaking of the cutaneous sense as - one? - - 50. What is pain? - - 51. Of what importance are the labyrinth senses (other than - hearing) to man and various animals? - - 52. What is meant by organic sensations? - - 53. What are the four tastes? - - 54. How does the sense of smell in man compare with that of - animals? - - 55. Why is the color pyramid superior to the color cone? - - 56. What are the chief symptoms of defective color vision? - - 57. What is not meant, and what is meant, by color mixtures? - - 58. Why does music use only twelve tones? - - 59. What is meant by the qualities of the tones of various - instruments? - - 60. Are there any limits to the analyzing power of the ear? - - 61. What is the exact number of classes of sensations? - - 62. How does the sensory equipment of man compare with that of the - animals? - - 63. What do we learn from experiments on blind-born persons who - have been operated on? - - 64. In what experiences is time an attribute of sense perception? - - 65. Is tone relationship a property of sense or of thought? - - 66. Can you illustrate the absolute sensitivity of our sense - organs? - - 67. How does the range of applicability of our sense organs compare - with that of tools and instruments? - - 68. Can you illustrate Weber’s law? - - 69. What are the practical advantages obtained through Weber’s law? - - 70. Illustrate sensitiveness to change and movement. - - 71. How is the chief difference in the behavior of chickens and - bats to be explained? - - -§ 5. IMAGINATION - -Mind is influenced not only by that which is present, but also by the -past and--one may say--the future, and by that which exists at another -place. Consciousness of this kind is called imagery. I imagine a lion -and recognize that he looks different from a horse. I recall the room in -a hotel where I have recently spent a night and see that it differs from -my study. - -Imagery does not differ in content from percepts. There are as many -kinds of images as there are sensations, and their attributes are the -same. Imagination differs from perception only through its independence -of external conditions in the formation of new combinations out of the -sensory elements which have previously been experienced. Although the -kinds of content of imagery do not differ from those of perception, -imagery differs from perception, as a rule, in such a characteristic -manner that in ordinary life we are not likely to mistake an image for a -percept or a percept for an image. The imagined sun lacks brilliancy. -Its imagined heat does not burn. A glowing match, perceived, surpasses -those images. Only in childhood, in dreams, and in particular -individuals (artists, for example), and under particular circumstances -(like the imaginative supplementing of that of which only parts have -stimulated the sense organ) can imagery come near being compared and -confused with percepts. Generally the difference in _vividness_ remains -great. A second difference is the lack of _details_ of images. As a rule -only a few parts of a rich complex of sensations reappear when an image -takes the place of the original percept. And the selection of these -details is usually most grotesque. A third characteristic of images is -their _instability_, fleetingness. Compared with the persistence of a -percept, an image can scarcely be said to have any definite make-up -since its composition changes from moment to moment. Images come and go -in spite of our desire to keep them. They change like kaleidoscopic -figures. - -All this has its disadvantages; but also its great advantages. Being at -once pictures and mere abbreviations or symbols of things, images aid -effectively in our handling of things. If they were exactly like -percepts, they would deceive us, as hallucinations do. Their very lack -of details and their fleetingness enable our mind to grasp a greater -multitude of things, to adjust itself more quickly and more -comprehensively to its surroundings. - -Independence of external causes and frequent recurrence from internal -causes give to our imagery the character of a permanent possession of -the mind. Not every part of this imagery is actually made use of, since -these parts are too numerous, but every part is always available for -use. This leads to the question as to the nature of the images while -mind is not conscious of them, particularly the nature of their nervous -correlate. Ever since the discovery of ganglion cells and nerve fibers -the naïve conception has readily offered itself that every idea has its -residence in a little group of cells, the idea of a dog in one, the idea -of a tree in another, and so on. Some have calculated the number of -cortical cells which would be necessary in order to provide a sufficient -number of residences for all the ideas acquired by a human being during -a long life. They have found that the cortical cells are numerous -enough. - -But the matter is not quite so simple. Our ideas, being made up of many -mental elements, overlap. If the idea of a dog has its residence here, -the idea of a lion its residence there, where, then, do we find the idea -of a carnivore, the idea of another kind of dog, the ideas of the -individual dogs known by me, the ideas of other carnivora, the idea of a -mammal, of a vertebrate, of an animal in general? These ideas are -interwoven in such manifold ways that it is difficult to assume that -each should have its separate residence in the brain. It is still more -difficult to apply this theory to the idea of barking, which can be -imitated by man, being natural to a dog; or to the idea of white, which -belongs to some dogs, but also to the clouds, the snow, the lily. - -There are also anatomical difficulties. I look first at a dog, then at -a goat. The elements of the retina which are stimulated are largely the -same in both cases. This makes it difficult to understand why the -nervous processes in the former case should all concentrate in one point -of the cortex and in the latter case in an entirely different point. Or -I hear the word _boxwood_ and later the word _woodbox_. The anatomical -difficulty is the same. - -The nervous correlates of ideas are obviously much more complicated than -the theory of location in cell groups assumes. There can be no doubt -that the nervous correlate of an idea, even of an elementary image, is a -process going on in a large number of connecting neurons in the higher -nerve centers, often widely distributed, like the meshes of a net. The -individual neurons in question do not belong exclusively to this one -idea, but, entering into numerous other combinations with other neurons, -belong to numerous ideas. The nervous correlate of a latent idea, which -is not conscious but ready to enter consciousness at any time, is not a -material substance stored away somewhere, but a disposition on the part -of neurons which have previously functioned together, to function again -in the same order and connection. - - - QUESTIONS - - 72. In what respects do images not differ from percepts? - - 73. In what three respects are images as a rule distinguishable - from percepts? - - 74. What are the advantages of the characteristics of images? - - 75. What is the nervous correlate of imagery? - - 76. What is the nervous correlate of a latent idea? - - -§ 6. FEELING - -Sensations and their images are closely related mental states. They are -of the same kind. As a third class of elementary mental states the -feelings of pleasantness and unpleasantness are customarily added. But -it would probably be more correct to say that these feelings are mental -states of an altogether different kind, in comparison with which the -distinction between sensations and images disappears. Pleasantness and -unpleasantness never occur apart from sensation or imagery, whereas the -latter states of consciousness may be free from any pleasantness or -unpleasantness. The pleasantness which I experience is always the -pleasantness of something--of the taste of a peach, or of my good -health, or of a message received. However, we must not conceive this -dependence of pleasantness and unpleasantness as similar to the -dependence of color or pitch or spatial extent or duration on the thing -to which these belong as its qualities. Color, pitch, and these other -qualities are essentially determined by objective conditions, the -physical properties of the thing in question. But pleasantness or -unpleasantness is only to a slight extent, if at all, determined by -objective conditions. Honey tastes very much the same whenever we eat -it. A tune sounds very much the same whenever we hear it. But these -sensory experiences are, in consequence of subjective conditions, now -highly pleasant, now almost indifferent, now decidedly unpleasant. - -The same colors and straight lines may be combined into a beautiful -design or into an ugly one, the same descriptions of scenery and events -into an attractive or a tedious book. A feeling which is already in -existence may prevent the growth of an opposite feeling. On a rainy day -we are likely to feel as if everything in the world were gray; on a -sunny spring day as if everything were rosy. The grief-stricken or -desperate person experiences a given situation with other feelings than -the person full of joy or hope. A particularly strong factor in our -life of feeling is the frequency of recurrence of a situation. The most -beautiful music suffers from being played at every concert and on every -street, the most delicious dish from being put on the table every day. -On the other hand, a bitter medicine gradually loses its unpleasantness, -an unpleasant situation becomes indifferent to a person whose profession -compels him to face it frequently. As the unchanging is at a -disadvantage in our life of perception, so is the recurrent in our life -of feeling. - -The subjective factor which determines what feelings accompany our -perceptions may be defined as the relation of the situation perceived to -the weal and woe of the organism. Pleasantness indicates that the -impressions made upon the organism are adapted to the needs or -capacities of the organism or at least to that part of the organism -which is directly affected; unpleasantness indicates that the -impressions are ill adapted or harmful. Exceptions to this rule may be -explained through the great complexity of the situations by which the -organism is often confronted, and through the complications resulting -from the fact that the organism must adjust its activity not only to the -present but also to the future, and not only in harmony with the present -but also with past experience. Feeling is a reliable symptom and witness -only for the present and local utility or inadequacy of the relation -between the organism and the world. It is not a prophet of the future. -Disease may result from eating sweets, whereas medicine is often bitter. - -The addition of feeling to our perceptions and images, because of the -peculiarities just mentioned, brings about great complications in the -make-up of our mental states and increases enormously the task of -classifying and comprehending our states of consciousness. The feelings -accompanying images are originally the same as those which accompanied -the perceptions in question. The memory image of the pain of flogging is -unpleasant because the original pain was unpleasant. But the manifold -connections of the images often result in unexpected feelings. The -memory of an unpleasant experience may become a source of pleasure -through the additional thought that the experience was the result of -some folly of which one is no longer capable. The feeling accompanying a -perception can change in a similar manner. A saturated green, as the -color of a pasture or of an ornament, is pleasant; as the color of a -girl’s cheek it would be highly unpleasant. - -Not only are perceptions and images themselves sources of pleasantness -and unpleasantness, but also their relations, spatial, temporal, and -conceptual. The pleasure which we derive from looking at a picture or a -landscape illustrates the dependence on spatial relations. The pleasure -of a symphony or dramatic performance depends largely on temporal -relations. Jokes and puzzles please us chiefly because of their -conceptual, logical relations. It is plain, then, that every complex of -sensations, supplemented by a large number of images, must become a -stage, so to speak, on which countless scores of feelings play their -parts. In so far as their perceptual and ideational bases may be kept -apart, we may count as many of these feelings as we distinguish percepts -or ideas. In so far as all these feelings are either pleasantness or -unpleasantness, we may speak of the feelings as being only two in -number. This may explain to us why such mental states as love, pride, -sentimentality, the joy of the audience in a theater, the interest of -the reader of a biography, appear at once simple enough, unitary -enough, and yet inexhaustibly replete with contents and difficult of -comprehension. This also explains the opposite views of so many writers, -of whom some assert that the number of feelings is infinitely large, -others that there are only two, pleasantness and unpleasantness, which -may accompany an infinite number of sensation complexes. The difference -between these writers is much less than appears from their words. - - QUESTIONS - - 77. How are pleasantness and unpleasantness related to sensational - states of consciousness? - - 78. How are pleasantness and unpleasantness related to objective - conditions? - - 79. How does the repetition of an experience influence its - pleasantness or unpleasantness? - - 80. What is the general subjective condition of pleasantness and - unpleasantness? - - 81. Is feeling a prophet of the future? - - 82. What difficulties does the existence of feeling cause the - psychologist? - - 83. Are there more than two feelings? - - -§ 7. WILLING - -Willing is usually mentioned as being a distinct class of mental states. -However, willing is not a special class in the sense in which -perceptions, images, and feelings are called classes. To understand -willing, let us consider certain typical actions of an infant which are -based on inborn nervous connections. What do we mean by the feeding -instinct? We mean unpleasant sensations of hunger and thirst followed by -various movements of arms and legs, of crying, of sucking, until the -unpleasantness of the situation ceases. The movements themselves are -nothing mental. But while they are occurring they become known as -kinesthetic sensations, partly also as visual or auditory sensations. -Two classes of sensations may therefore be distinguished in any -instinctive activity: those which correspond to the sensory phase of the -reflexes in question, and those which result from the reflex movements. -After frequent occurrence of these reflex movements, images of various -parts of the whole satisfying process remain, and these, or some of -them, become conscious even before any of the movements occur. For -example, as soon as hunger is experienced the infant has also an image -of the bottle, of the mother bringing it, of his own movements of -grasping, sucking, and so on. The instinctive act has then been replaced -by an act of will. _Willing, therefore, may be defined as instinct which -foresees its end._ - -No new kind of mental state can be discovered in willing. There is -nothing but sensations, feelings of pleasantness-unpleasantness, and -images. If we give to such a combination of these three kinds of mental -states the name of willing, we justify this new name by the fact that -such combinations are the most original, the earliest conscious states -which have occurred in our mental life. The first consciousness -accompanies instinctive activity, and immediately a simple form of -willing is made possible. From the genetic point of view, that is, if we -are interested in the growth of our consciousness, willing is the most -elementary form of consciousness. Perceptions, images, and feelings did -not exist separately for some months or years to become afterwards -united into willing. Willing was there when consciousness first awoke. -On the other hand, if we are interested in describing the make-up of our -present mental life,--that is, from the point of view of the -psychologist searching for concepts of mental states,--sensations, -images, and feelings are the most elementary forms of consciousness. - -There is no will in the sense of a simple faculty, always remaining -identical with itself, merely changing its direction and now applying -itself to this thing, now to that thing. Will is an abstract word, -referring to that which is common to all states of willing; but, like -all abstractions, it does not possess any real existence apart from the -realities from which it has been abstracted, that is, from the -particular cases of willing occurring in each person’s life. Of course, -there is no objection to using the abstract word _will_ without -explaining each time that it is an abstraction. We need not hesitate to -refer to typical differences between the cases of willing most -frequently observed in one person and those observed in another by -saying that one has a strong will, the other a weak, a vacillating will. - - QUESTIONS - - 84. How may willing be defined? - - 85. Is willing an elementary kind of consciousness? - - 86. Why is it wrong to answer the preceding question simply by yes - or no? - - 87. What is the will? - - -_B. THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF MENTAL LIFE_ - - -§ 8. ATTENTION - -A ship, under the influence of several forces--the screw, the wind, the -current--follows all of them simultaneously, and the place which it -reaches after a certain time is the same as that which it would have -reached if these forces had acted, each for the same length of time, but -one after the other. External things, whenever they are under the -influence of several forces, are governed by the law of the resultant. -The mind’s mode of response is entirely different. When there are many -things to see, as a crowd of actors on the stage, many things to hear, -as a chorus and orchestra, and in addition some whispered words of our -neighbor, the result is by no means the same as if all these impressions -acted upon our mind successively. If time enough is given, our mind will -successively respond to each of these impressions of sight and hearing. -But if the response must occur quickly and be done with, it is -restricted to a part of the impressions made by the external objects. A -few of these impressions, specially favored by circumstances, affect our -consciousness at the expense of the others. The latter are not entirely -lost for our mind; but they fail to call forth separate responses, they -fuse into a mere background upon which the favored impressions make -their appearance. They are often spoken of as the fringe of the clearly -conscious mental states. - -One might call this selective effect the narrowness or focalness of -consciousness; in ordinary life it is called attention. We say that -attention is given to certain contents, and that the others are not -attended to, that they are under the influence of inattention. There is -no similar phenomenon in the whole inorganic world. In our mental life -nothing is more ordinary. I look up and notice many things. But many -more are projected upon my retina without succeeding in becoming -noticed. When reading a book I cannot accomplish everything that I wish -I could. Giving attention to the meaning, I fail to become conscious of -the beauty of style. Looking for typographical errors, I fail to -understand the logical connection of the sentences. For each purpose a -new reading is necessary. Mental work requires the exclusion of piano -music and crying babies. Thinking is not so easy while we are performing -a gymnastic feat or walking at a rapid gait. When we are listening to -difficult music, we shut our eyes. When a momentous question, a -dangerous task, presents itself, we are in danger of losing our head; -that is, being occupied by ideas of the magnitude of the event, we fail -to become conscious of thoughts and memories of the simplest and most -ordinary kind. - -The popular view of attention is that it is an independent being, -separate from the contents of the mind. Attention stands at the helm, -and as the mind desires these or those contents, attention changes the -ship’s course. This, of course, is pure mythology. The enhancement and -impairment of impressions to which we refer in speaking of attention and -inattention are not a peculiar activity of mind; they are simply the -effects of peculiar relations existing between the impressions -themselves. A few of these relations may be briefly discussed. - -Whatever situation is capable of being a source of pleasantness or -unpleasantness, is also likely to become enhanced in vividness, so that -one may say that the value of an impression for our life of feeling is -one of the factors determining attention. Any remark of a person near -by, although merely whispered and hardly perceived by others, quickly -rises to a high degree of consciousness in my mind if it concerns my -reputation. That which we have experienced frequently, no longer causes -much pleasantness or unpleasantness; and in accordance with this, it is -not likely to be attended to. - -This parallelism between feeling and attention is expressed in the word -_interest_. We are interested in those things which conform to our -habits of thinking. Because of this conformity they are useful to us at -the present moment of our life, and therefore pleasant. Because of this -conformity with our habits they become vividly conscious--they are -attended to. What is unrelated to our habits of thinking is not useful -to us at the moment and is therefore indifferent; and being unrelated, -it attracts no attention. Everybody knows how readily the average member -of a political party assents to the assertions made by the party leader, -how readily the adherent of a religious faith accepts instances proving -its correctness, how he unintentionally ignores anything which he cannot -accept without opposition or discomfort. - -Another factor determining attention is the relation of a new impression -to the thoughts occupying the mind at the moment when the impression was -made. That which is conscious prepares the path over which everything -related may enter. Ordinarily the ticking of a clock remains unnoticed. -But let the person think of the clock, or of time, and the next tick is -clearly perceived. In order to notice a weak tone in a complicated -chord, or a melody in polyphonic music, it is well to hear the tone or -the melody first in isolation and try to keep it in mind until the chord -or the music is played. A slight difference in the color of two leaves -remains unnoticed; but if we are thinking of a color difference just -before the leaves are shown to us, it becomes at once vivid in our -consciousness. The puzzle pictures common in certain popular magazines -would never convey the intended meaning to us, if we were not invited by -the text to think of various things which they might represent. If we -know beforehand in what order a lecturer will present his arguments to -us, we can pay attention to the lecture much more easily and understand -it better. - -Attention is usually accompanied by numerous instinctive muscular -activities, which contribute toward the continuation and toward a -greater distinctness or intensity of the impression. When our visual -organs are stimulated, the head and the eyes turn so that the impression -may be received at the point of keenest vision. If the ear is -stimulated, the head turns so that both ears assume the most favorable -position with respect to the source of sound. When images occupy the -mind, the eyes are directed at an indifferent, uninteresting object, or -they are closed, the lips are pressed together, the limbs assume a -position of rest. All this tends to keep away avoidable stimulation of -the sense organs of the body. These instinctive movements are, of -course, perceived as kinesthetic sensations, as varied forms of strain, -of activity. Thus they give rise to the erroneous view that attention is -a peculiar activity of the mind’s own content. This view is most -emphatically expressed in the phrase “voluntary attention.” It often -happens that we become conscious of the muscular adaptation -characteristic of attention before the mental state to which attention -is given has appeared. For example, we see lightning and at once imagine -the thunder and the muscular adaptions of the ear and other parts of the -body which generally occur when it thunders. Or we hear our teacher’s -voice telling us that he will give an explanation, and we imagine the -strain, the activity of our muscles, which begins as soon as he starts -giving the explanation. This foreseeing of our activities we have above -called willing. _The foreseeing of our attention is the will to give -attention, is voluntary attention._ - -It is a peculiar fact that vividness of a certain thought or even a -class of thoughts is never much prolonged. Other impressions or ideas -take the place of those which are now focal. Under the most favorable -conditions, the same ideas reappear again and again. This limited -duration of attention is most conspicuous in children and is one of the -greatest obstacles which the teacher has to overcome. Repeated orders to -be attentive are of small value. They tend to call up a general notion -of the matter which is being taught, and thus make it easier for the -ideas presented by the teacher to enter consciousness. But the effect is -not lasting because the very thought of being attentive cannot itself -have a long duration. It is therefore preferable to take into account -the nature of attending, and in accordance with it, to provide a certain -change in the ideas presented--to present the matter in an interesting -way. - - QUESTIONS - - 88. What essential difference between mental function and - mechanical function is referred to by the word _attention_? - - 89. Can you illustrate the chief facts of attention and - inattention? - - 90. Can you illustrate the parallelism between the laws of feeling - and of attention? - - 91. How is attention mentally prepared for? - - 92. How is attention assisted by special muscular activity? - - 93. What causes the illusion that attention is a voluntary activity - of the mind upon its contents? - - 94. What practical problems are connected with the law of the - duration of attention? - - -§ 9. MEMORY - -While attention means limitation, memory means expansion. From the -enormous number of impressions calling simultaneously for response, the -mind selects a small group of those related to its present needs. But -the mind may go beyond the limits of that which is presented and -respond to impressions of a former time. We then speak of memory. When I -hear the first verse of a poem which I have previously heard or read -more than once, I continue to hear, in imagination, the following verses -although the reader has stopped. When I see a black cloud drawing over -the sky and the trees bowing under the pressure of the wind, I know that -a thunderstorm is approaching. When I smell carbolic acid or iodoform, I -look for a person wearing a bandage. In every case the mind tends toward -expansion beyond the limits of the data presented at the moment. The -mind thus restores the connections in which the accidentally isolated -object of present interest has been experienced with other objects in -the past. - -We refer to this ability of expansion by the term _memory_, to the -actual process of expansion by _reproduction_ or _association_. The -immense importance of memory for life is easily understood. Nature -repeats itself--not without some variations of the accompanying -phenomena; but no group of phenomena, aside from such variations, fails -to recur at frequent intervals. In reproducing what previously existed -under similar conditions, our mind possesses, as a rule, a real -knowledge of what now exists but happens to remain hidden, and of what -is about to occur. Thus our mind adapts itself to those parts of the -world which are for spatial or temporal reasons beyond the reach of our -sense organs. - -A special case of reproduction deserves to be mentioned because of its -frequency of application. Two things may possess one common part while -completely differing in other parts: for example, two words that rhyme, -or a photograph and an oil portrait, or either of these and the face of -the original. Let us call the parts of one thing _abcd_, those of -another _cdef_. It easily happens that by mediation of the common parts, -_cd_, the train of thought is carried from _ab_ to _ef_. Thus we may say -that our train of thought is determined, not only by simultaneity of -previous experience, which is often quite fortuitous, but also by -similarity, by essential connection, by relationship. - -The possibilities of reproduction are, of course, very numerous in each -case of experience. At present I see before me some books of reference, -on the hill at a distance a house partly hidden by trees, and many other -things. All these have previously been in my mind, each in various -temporal or essential connections with other things. An immense number -of images might therefore be reproduced now in my mind. That as a matter -of fact I do not become conscious of all of them needs no further -explanation. It has been spoken of before when we discussed the -limitation, the focalness of consciousness, that is, attention. We have -also stated some of the rules determining the selection among these many -possibilities. Let us here state these rules more definitely. - -Whatever tends to bring about strong feeling, also tends to be -reproduced. A brilliant success, but also a humiliating defeat, are not -easily forgotten. They are always lying in ambush, so to speak, ready -for the least opportunity. As in attention, so here even more, pleasant -thoughts show this tendency more strongly than unpleasant ones. What is -unpleasant is soon repressed. This is illustrated by such facts as the -healing power of time, the painting of the future in glowing colors, the -unfailing belief that advancing age has in the good old time. - -A second law governing reproduction may be called the set of the mind. -When a railway train enters a large station, there are many paths over -which it might pass; but its actual path depends on the position which -was given to the switches immediately before the train’s arrival. In a -similar manner the path taken by the mind depends on the set established -just a few seconds or minutes before by the contents of the mind. If -during a conversation in English a French word is unexpectedly -pronounced by some one, the other people, though perfectly familiar with -the French language, may fail to understand it. The French sounds are -unexpected--the track is there, but the switch is not properly set--and -consequently the sounds remain ineffective. A certain book seen on my -desk calls up associated ideas very different from those which are -produced when I see it in the bookstore. The same thought leads to one -conclusion in the dark or in a dream, to another conclusion in daylight -or in the waking state. Every student is familiar with the difficulty of -becoming conscious of the right kind of ideas after having just gone -from one recitation room to another. After a few minutes the new set of -the mind is established, and the difficulty has disappeared. - -Many other factors are to be mentioned as influencing the train of -thought. During the last decades many experimental investigations have -been devoted, with much success, to their exact determination. Numerous -methods have been used, some being only slight modifications of the -conditions under which ideas are reproduced in ordinary life, others -being more artificial in order to yield answers to special questions to -which the other methods are not applicable. The common involuntary -reproduction of ideas by words or pictures shown has been used in order -to determine how this reproduction varies with different individuals -under different circumstances, how much time it requires, and so on. -Voluntary reproduction of impressions that have just been made (as used -in school in dictation) has been used by presenting, optically or -through speech, words, syllables, numbers, or pictures and telling the -subject to write down everything remembered. The quantity of the matter -retained, and the number and kind of errors, then permit many important -conclusions. Also whole poems or pieces of prose have been memorized, -and answers have been found to questions as to the length of time -necessary for such memorizing under different conditions, and the number -of additional repetitions needed to make the material learned available -again after a greater number of days or weeks. The acquisition of the -vocabulary of a foreign language or of a set of historical dates has -been developed into a special method of hitting or missing. The material -to be learned has been presented in pairs, and the number of pairs has -been counted of which one element causes the mental reproduction of the -other. By all these methods psychologists have definitely secured many -rules which had been derived from earlier, less reliable experiences. -Many new facts have also been discovered. Let us give a brief account of -the results of this work. - -That which has been in consciousness most recently is, other conditions -being equal, reproduced most readily. For some time the memorized -material is reproduced so easily that it seems to have found a permanent -place in our mind. Soon, however, it begins to be forgotten. At first -this forgetting goes on with great rapidity; but it becomes slower and -slower, so that a person retains very little less after thirteen months -than after twelve. Even after twenty years definite traces of a single -former memorizing have been proved to exist. Nothing, therefore, is -likely to be completely lost, although voluntary reproduction has long -since become impossible. - -The most important factor contributing toward certainty of reproduction -is frequent repetition, of course with attention, for without attention -no memorizing is possible. The experimental investigation of the -influence of repetition has yielded, among minor ones, two particularly -interesting results. One of them justifies an educational practice which -had already been adopted by teachers because it seemed to be advisable. -In order to memorize any material we should not try to force the desired -end by accumulated repetition without pause. It is much more economical -to devote a short time to learning, long enough for a few repetitions, -to do this again after a pause of some hours or days and again after the -same interval, until the desired effect is obtained. The total time -required for obtaining this effect would be much greater if the total -process of memorizing were to occur at one time without intermission. - -Another result of experimental investigation is contrary to the -tradition of educational practice. It has been proved that, in order to -learn a long poem, monologue, or piece of prose, this should not be -divided into smaller parts. It is uneconomical to learn each stanza or -sentence separately. The whole should always be read from the beginning -to the end, without introducing points of division which are not desired -at the time of reproduction. - -The method of involuntary reproduction has recently been applied to a -problem of much practical significance. The attempt has been made to -reveal thus associations of ideas which have been firmly established, -but which the subject has strong reasons for keeping secret, for -instance, the ideas forming the memory of a crime which he has -committed. He is asked to tell or write as quickly as possible a word -suggested by each of a great number of words presented to him in -succession. Among these latter words are given some which have a special -relation to the knowledge which the subject is suspected of possessing. -If the suspicion is correct, it is likely to be shown in either of two -ways in the answers to these test words. Either the expected (for -instance incriminating) answers are actually given and reveal thus the -subject’s knowledge; or if these answers are inhibited and voluntarily -replaced by others of a more innocent appearance, the time of answering, -the reaction time, is considerably increased. It may also happen that -the subject, under these conditions, becomes confused and gives -absolutely meaningless answers. - -That the individual differences in the ability to memorize are very -great, has always been observed. Modern psychology, however, has added -to this knowledge an insight into the various kinds of differences and -their proper causes. Let us notice the perception and imagery types. -There are people who perceive and imagine very readily visual sensation -groups. They give attention to the shape and color of the things rather -than to any other sensible qualities, and they imagine visual shape or -color very vividly so that the right and left, the above and below, of -their imagery is clearly in their minds. In others auditory perception -and auditory imagery are very vivid; in a third class of persons the -same is to be said of kinesthetic mental states. We therefore -distinguish visual, auditory, and kinesthetic types of consciousness. -There may be also gustatory, olfactory, and other types, but they are of -little practical importance. Extreme cases, where one of these classes -of mental states is extraordinarily developed at the expense of all -others, are rare. Eminent ability in art or music probably depends on -such development. Generally, one kind of imagery is but slightly -superior to the rest. - -There seem to be further individual differences with respect to a -predominance of either word images or images of the things of nature. -All these differences bring about numerous variations of memory. The -visual type is able to play chess blindfolded, to repeat a memorized -series of numbers somewhat slowly also backwards. To the auditory type -these performances seem miraculous. But the former in recalling easily -confuses similar looking elements of such a memorized series, which the -latter would certainly distinguish because of their difference in sound. -The auditory type, however, confuses elements that are similar in sound -or accent. The auditory and kinesthetic types depend largely on reading -aloud for memorizing, while the visual type is scarcely aided by it. -These differences are of much importance for all the various kinds of -professional activity. - - - QUESTIONS - - 95. In what respect is memory the opposite of attention? - - 96. In what respect is reproduction by similarity superior to - reproduction by simultaneity of previous experience? - - 97. Can you illustrate the relations between feeling and memory? - - 98. What is meant by the set of the mind? - - 99. Illustrate the dependence of memory on recency. - - 100. Illustrate the two laws of repetition. - - 101. What method has been devised for the diagnosis of memory which - is not voluntarily revealed? - - 102. What is meant by perception or imagery types? - - 103. Can you illustrate the practical importance of the types of - consciousness? - - -§ 10. PRACTICE - -The word _practice_ refers to a number of different phenomena having -this in common, that they occur when the same mental function is -frequently repeated, either in immediate succession or with moderately -long intermissions. To a large extent practice is identical with the -selective and supplementing functions of the mind which are discussed -above. But certain effects included in the term _practice_ cannot be -understood thus and must be regarded as the signs of a more fundamental -law of the mind. Setting aside, however, the distinction between -fundamental and secondary regularities of mental function, two facts -should be mentioned here. - -The more frequently the same task is imposed upon our mind, the more -perfectly--this is the first fact--is it carried out. But perfection has -various aspects. So far as sense perception is concerned, perfection -means a lowering of the so-called threshold of perception and of -discrimination, especially the latter. Weaker sounds, lights, tastes are -perceived; smaller differences of color, tone, weight, movement, size -are correctly named. Perfection means also greater quickness of -response. The same number of elements is perceived in less time, is -memorized or reproduced more quickly. The rapidity of reading, thinking, -writing, and other skillful movements is increased. Perfection means, -further, an enlargement of the scope of the situation responded to. We -are conscious of a greater number of its parts after having perceived a -certain thing repeatedly. Of different things a greater number are -simultaneously perceived. After repeated performance of a certain act, -we take into account a greater number of circumstances and adapt it to -them. That a certain activity which has been engaged in repeatedly can -be continued longer at one time, may also be mentioned in this -connection. So far as definite purposes are concerned, these are -accomplished more and more economically and accurately, that is, with -less expenditure of energy, with stricter avoidance of unnecessary -movements, with a decreasing number of errors. - -A second phenomenon of practice is the simplification of the conscious -processes preceding purposive action. Unless there are particular -causes, as anticipatory ideas or an extraordinary special interest, that -which has often occurred tends to remain unconscious, so that the -response may be called automatic. The ticking of a clock, the noise of a -street, the laughing of a mountain stream, soon cease to be attended to, -although attention to them is always possible. Reading, writing, -arithmetical work, when being learned, include a vast number of states -of consciousness which no longer occur when these activities are -performed by a grown person. After thousand-fold repetition great -rapidity of execution results from the omission of a multitude of mental -states without which the performance could not originally have been -brought about. But the original effects of those lost mental states are -not at all lost. The same movements are carried out with the same -accuracy as if they were governed by those mental states. Each single -letter, even each word, is not found in the consciousness of a person -who reads rapidly, and yet he pronounces the word correctly. Each single -note or printed chord is not in the consciousness of the pianist, and -yet he plays the chord correctly. The same holds for all complex -movements that are slowly learned and often repeated, as knitting, -sewing, swimming, horseback riding, dancing, skating. They finally -require a minimum of mental energy. They become comparable in this -respect to the native, instinctive movements; but in order to -distinguish them from the native movements independent of consciousness, -we call them automatic movements. - -Practice, therefore, is a general term referring to the wonderful -adaptation of mind to the external world for the purpose of -self-preservation. By association and reproduction mind adapts itself to -frequently recurring events and anticipates them. By practice it adapts -itself to those events which recur with particular frequency and which -are of particular importance. These events are through practice -comprehended more delicately, more quickly, and more inclusively. They -are responded to in a manner tested as the most fitting and most prompt, -and yet requiring only a minimum of mental energy, of which more than a -limited amount is at no time available. Without having to neglect the -ordinary and as such important, mind has energy left to devote to that -which is new, unusual, surprising. - - - QUESTIONS - - 104. What are the effects of practice on sense perception? - - 105. Illustrate how practice simplifies thought. - - -§ 11. FATIGUE - -The conditions of fatigue are similar to those of practice. Fatigue -occurs when mental functions are repeated too many times in immediate -succession. But the result is not perfection, but deterioration of the -performance. The sensitivity for weak stimuli or small differences of -stimuli disappears. Attention is decreased, that is, fewer mental states -are vivid, and they are also less vivid. New ideas do not easily enter -consciousness. Reproduction, as in the processes of reading and -arithmetic, is slow and inaccurate. Action becomes slow and awkward, and -may cease altogether. - -Fatigue is obviously a protective measure. When the continued -performance of a task threatens to exhaust the organs, their resistance -to the call for action increases, and finally they completely refuse to -respond. Because of the continuity of all organic processes, this -refusal in extreme cases is impossible without a lesser degree of -refusal before the extreme is reached. The first indications of fatigue -thus appear soon after a prolonged mental activity has begun, as a -diminution of the effects of practice. This leads often to the -astonishing consequence that a certain performance is executed better at -the beginning of a practice period than at the end of the preceding -period. The acquired practice is then still effective, while the effect -of fatigue is absent. This experience does not justify the conclusion -that skill has increased during the time of intermission. - -Because of the great importance of fatigue for mental and bodily health, -numerous investigators have in recent years undertaken to study it more -closely by experimental methods. Especially fatigue caused by school -work has been much under discussion in scientific and popular -periodicals and even in the daily press. Little progress, however, has -been made in our knowledge of fatigue. It has proved difficult to find -reliable methods of measuring it, and the great complexity of the -conditions has interfered with the interpretation of the experimental -results. The attempt has been made to measure mental fatigue indirectly -by measuring the muscular fatigue caused by repeatedly lifting a weight; -or by measuring the minimum distance of two touches on the skin -recognizable as two. Although there are probably relations of cutaneous -sensitivity and of muscular fatigue to mental fatigue, they are not -definitely known, and by some their very existence is doubted. Other -tests used for the measurement of fatigue are adding numbers of several -digits, adding a long series of digits, and taking dictation. In these -tests the mental work is very one-sided and too simple to permit -conclusions with regard to fatigue under ordinary conditions of mental -activity. A disturbing element in these tests is the rapid perfection of -the work under the influence of practice. If we choose more complicated -tasks such as translation into another language, mathematical problems, -or filling in words which have been omitted from a certain text, we -cannot easily make two tasks sufficiently alike to be able to compare -the results obtained from them. - -But none of these methods solve the chief problem, namely, the -determination of the point at which fatigue begins to be permanently -harmful. There is no doubt that in moderate degrees fatigue is a -perfectly normal phenomenon, involving no detriment to our future -efficiency. Otherwise most people would be wrecked before they are fully -grown. The experience of athletes and soldiers shows that even rather -high degrees of fatigue are compatible with the normal growth of bodily -strength. The same may be true for mental life. The assertions of great -damage done to children by school work are--so far as normal children -are concerned--certainly greatly exaggerated. - - - QUESTIONS - - 106. What are the effects of fatigue? - - 107. Into what complication does fatigue enter with practice? - - 108. What attempts have been made at measuring fatigue? - - 109. What is the chief problem in connection with fatigue? - - 110. Is the fatigue of school work harmful? - - -_C. THE EXPRESSIONS OF MENTAL LIFE_ - - -§ 12. PERCEPTION AND MOVEMENT - -The impression upon the mind is not the ultimate end of the nervous -processes originating in the sense organs. The end is rather activity of -the motor organs of the body, which we may here, accepting the naïve -conception of matter and mind, regard as effects or expressions of mind. -The complications of the mental life of a grown person tend to make this -connection between mind and motor activity often obscure and doubtful. -It seems that often we receive impressions quite passively. Nevertheless -the connection exists. Every impression made upon the mind by the -external world is in some way responded to by movement. The movement may -occur in the stimulated sense organ itself, in the arms, the hands, the -fingers, the legs, the feet, the head, the vocal organs, also in the -internal organs, the heart, the blood vessels, the alimentary canal, the -lungs. The significance of many of these movements is but insufficiently -understood, for example, laughing, weeping, blushing, trembling. But -those movements which directly affect the organism’s surroundings are -easily understood. They may be classed under two headings, -self-preservation and play. Another way of classifying them is to -distinguish movement toward the object perceived and movement away from -the object, without taking these terms in too literal a sense. - -Innumerable illustrations for these classes of movements suggest -themselves. A piece of bread put on the back of the tongue is moved down -the esophagus by the proper muscular contractions. A particle moving -into the wrong passage is thrown out again by coughing. If the palm of -an infant is gently stroked, the hand closes and takes hold of the -stroking finger. If the palm is scratched, the hand quickly recedes. A -mild and steady light attracts the child’s eye, which follows the -movements of the light. From an intense and flickering light the eye -turns away. A piece of sugar is kept in the child’s mouth and moved -about by the tongue until it is dissolved. A bitter root causes the lips -to recede and the tongue to make a pushing movement. If the child is -hungry, he cries, kicks, and strikes out with his arms until he is fed. -After being fed he lies still so that digestion is not interfered with -by the blood being drawn into the peripheral parts of the body. - -Movements which do not serve self-preservation so directly are called -play. When a cat perceives a mouse, she jumps at it and catches it. But -before eating it, she usually lets it loose and catches it again, and so -on several times. When she finds a ball of yarn, she treats it -similarly, although she must know that it is not edible. A dog gnaws a -bone because this contributes to his nutrition. But he also gnaws table -legs and rugs, although these have no nutritive value. He chases rabbits -and other small animals which he can eat. But he chases no less eagerly -other dogs, wagons, cyclists, horses, none of which serve as articles of -food for him. The same is true for man. The infant’s kicking, the small -child’s breaking of his toys, do not have any immediate value. Men and -animals respond to things not only by fighting, but also by play. The -significance of playful movements is to be found in the exercise, the -development, and the conservation of the abilities given to them by -nature. As in the movements of self-preservation, so in play -pleasantness and unpleasantness make their appearance. Extensive -exercise of natural abilities is highly pleasant, enforced inactivity -equally unpleasant. - -But play is more than a general exercise of the bodily organs. It is a -preparation for the specialized activities of the serious part of life. -The animal meets in play things which behave very much like those things -which it has to obtain for food. So it learns to obtain food at a time -when food is not yet needed. It learns to defend itself when no one yet -attacks it. The biological significance of the play movements obviously -consists in this preparation for the special activities of life. Those -animals which do not possess a strong tendency to play are thus at a -disadvantage in the struggle for life, because they miss the opportunity -for preparation. Serious activity and play accompany man and animal all -through life; but the proportion changes. The young are taken care of by -their parents, and play may therefore prevail. With maturity this -changes, and less time is left for play. - -All these movements of self-preservation and of play are natural -inherited responses of the organism to its environment. Many of them do -not appear at the very entrance into life, but at different stages of -age and growth. They are the raw material from which all conduct is -derived and built up. Their nervous conditions are the nervous processes -in the reflex arches of the subcortical nerve centers. From the points -of sensory stimulation, the nervous processes are carried into definite -muscle groups so that definite movements occur. These movements are -called _reflexes_ or _instincts_ according as they are rather simple or -more complex. Both reflexes and instincts are inherited movements -following in direct response upon sensory stimulation. - - - QUESTIONS - - 111. What is the ultimate end of every nervous process? - - 112. What are typical movements of self-preservation? - - 113. What are typical movements of play? - - 114. Is play more than a general exercise of the body? - - 115. Are all inherited movements possible immediately after birth? - - 116. What is the difference between reflexes and instincts? - - -§ 13. THOUGHT AND MOVEMENT - -Consciousness is not a factor in reflex or instinctive movements. But -these movements soon enter into a twofold connection with consciousness. -(1) When such movements occur, they often result in consciousness. They -are either seen, or perceived through the sense of touch or through the -kinesthetic sense. These images of the movement become associated with -the images originating from the sensory stimulations which give rise to -the movement. (2) In consequence of this association the visual, touch, -and kinesthetic images of the movement, particularly the most common, -the kinesthetic, may themselves produce this movement to which they owe -their existence. The mere thought of how one feels when performing a -movement brings about, if it is vivid enough, the movement itself. The -hearing of dance music awakens the kinesthetic ideas of dancing, and -these become real movements, although perhaps only swaying movements of -the body or the head. Vivid thinking similarly brings about whispering -of words. Even vivid imagination of the movement of a foreign body has -such powers. A passionate and excited billiard player thinks of the -hoped-for movement of the running ball. This leads to imagery of a -similar movement of his own body, and the result is the actual -movement, rather ridiculous to the onlooker because it is entirely -purposeless. - -Through this connection with consciousness instinctive movements become -voluntary movements. The term _voluntary_ means just this connection -with consciousness; it has no other meaning. - -Suppose a child sees something white and glittering and puts it -instinctively into his mouth. It happens to be a lump of sugar. Its -taste is pleasant. It is retained, dissolved, and swallowed. All the -impressions, occurring at about the same time, become associated: the -sight of the thing, the movements of the arm and hand, the taste, the -movements of the tongue and the lips. The more frequently this thing -happens, the more firmly established are the associations. Later the -sight of sugar reproduces at once its taste, the visual and kinesthetic -images of the movements, and the movements themselves--the arm is -stretched out, the tongue and lips making sucking movements--although -the sugar may be lying so far away that it cannot be touched. The -child’s consciousness then contains what we have previously called will, -and what may also be called desire: a vivid impression accompanied by -pleasantness, sensations of restlessness, and an image of a pleasant -conclusion of the whole experience. We say then that the child wills, -desires, to have the sugar. - -We can will to do only that which in its elements we have previously -done by instinct. If we do not know how a movement feels when we perform -it, of course we cannot bring it about by way of our consciousness, that -is, by our will. Children have as much command of speech as they have -acquired by instinctively producing speech sounds in response to -accidental stimulations. This instinctive production occurs usually -rather late in the case of certain sounds, as _k_, _r_, _sh_; and -accordingly, in spite of all special efforts on the part of the parents, -children learn to produce those sounds only at that late time. We -presuppose, of course, that they are not deaf. For in deaf children the -speech sounds instinctively produced do not enter into an association -with the kinesthetic sensations and therefore cannot be voluntarily -reproduced; that is, the children remain dumb. Many a grown person -remembers that all his attempts at learning the pronunciation of a -certain sound in foreign speech (take for example the gutteral German -_r_, or the German _ch_, or the French nasal sounds) were in vain until -by a mere accident, instinctively, he pronounced that very sound. After -that he had command of it. - -This interweaving of the instinctive reactions of the body with -conscious life is of the greatest practical significance. However well -adapted the inherited reflexes may be to the purpose of keeping the -young animal alive, they are very insufficient in meeting the ever -growing complications of life. And they are not perfect even in the -beginning. A reflex is the response to a present and direct impression -upon the organism; but very similar impressions may come from things of -different properties. Poisonous substances often look and taste like -articles of food. The enemy assumes the attitude of a friend welcoming -you. Reflex action is powerless to give the organism the protection -needed in such cases. Instinct is easily deceived. But as soon as the -harmful consequences impress themselves upon the organism, the instinct -is modified, and in the future these consequences will be avoided. The -instincts are ready-made institutions intended to be applied to average -conditions. Their readiness and completeness is in so far of inestimable -advantage to the organism. If it had to learn everything necessary for -life, it could not survive. But for the manifold deviations of the -external world from the average no provision can be made in this manner. - -The variation of the organism’s response is made possible by the -existence of higher nerve centers, that is, of connecting neurons of a -higher order, more remote from the sensory and motor points of the body. -Let us imagine the proverbial reaction of a child to the sight of a -flame, and discuss the successive stages of development by the help of -figure 15. (1) The visual stimulation starts a nervous process from -_s_{1}_, which passes through the bulb and spinal cord into the muscles -of the arm at _m_{1}_. A small part of the current may branch off at _a_ -and, instead of passing down towards _b_, take the direction of _v_. But -the resistance in this direction is for the present so high that only an -insignificant part of the process can take this way, and so no -corresponding motor response is noticeable. - -[Illustration: FIG. 15.--“A BURNT CHILD FEARS THE FIRE.”] - -(2) While all this is still going on and the child’s arm is still moving -forward, the heat of the flame acts as a pain stimulus at _s_{2}_. The -nervous process produced passes over _c_ and _d_ to the muscles at -_m_{2}_, whose contraction results in the arm’s being pulled back. This -results in a third stimulation at _s_{3}_, which we need not trace -farther here. But not the whole of the nervous process passes from _c_ -down to _d_. A part of it, of considerable absolute magnitude because of -the intensity of stimulation, passes from _c_ up to _p_ and thence over -_k_ down to _d_ and finally also into _m_{2}_. This process going from -_p_ to _k_, according to a general law of nervous activity, tends to -attract other, weaker nervous processes, if the neuron connections make -this possible. Consequently the nervous process from _s_{1}_ to _a_ is -now turned mostly into the path _a-v-p_ and only an insignificant part -of it continues to go from _a_ towards _b_. The consequence is that the -resistance of the path _a-v-p-k-d_ is soon reduced to less than the -resistance of the path _a-b_. The great significance of this fact -becomes clear in the third stage of development. - -(3) At some later time the flame again acts as a visual stimulus. But -now, because of the change of resistance just explained, the nervous -process takes for the most part the path over _a-v-p-k-d_, and the -reaction follows at _m_{2}_ instead of at _m_{1}_. The child has learned -to avoid the flame. The child, when seeing the flame, is conscious of -the pain, as imagery, without having to receive the actual stimulation -at _s_{2}_. - -Thus the inflexible regularity of reaction gives place to another type -of reaction, an adaptation, not only to those conditions which at the -time make their impression upon the organism, but also to those -conditions which are mere future possibilities. The experience of the -past guides the organism into the future. - - - QUESTIONS - - 117. What is the twofold connection into which instinctive movement - enters with consciousness? - - 118. Why is the movement of a billiard ball often accompanied by - movements of the players or spectators? - - 119. What is a voluntary movement? - - 120. In what manner is will dependent on instinct? - - 121. Why do deaf children not acquire speech? Can they be taught to - speak? - - 122. Why is the acquisition of foreign speech sounds by grown - people often so slow? - - 123. What is the advantage to the organism of voluntary over - instinctive action? - - 124. Can you describe the three stages of nervous development - illustrating the proverb “A burnt child fears the fire”? - - - - -CHAPTER III - -COMPLICATIONS OF MENTAL LIFE - - -_A. THE INTELLECT_ - - -§ 14. PERCEPTION - - -1. _Characteristics of Perception_ - -At every moment of waking life a multitude of impressions are received -by the mind through the eyes, the ears, the cutaneous and all other -senses, giving information about processes in the external world and in -the subject’s own body. However, because of the peculiar laws of mental -activity, the actual conscious experience differs greatly from a mere -sum of all those impressions--from what would be the content of -consciousness if mind were nothing but an accumulation of senses. In -order to distinguish the actual consciousness from the abstractly -conceived sum of sensations, we use as a specific term the word -_perception_. - -Does not a newspaper look different if held in the right way or turned -upside down, a landscape if seen in the ordinary way or through our -legs? In the latter case there are in our consciousness a multitude of -incomprehensible details, lines, figures, colors; in the former we are -conscious of one thing, a landscape, with its divisions, each of these -divisions with its subdivisions, and so on. The one consciousness is -practically the result only of simultaneous sensory stimulations; the -other consciousness, in addition to these stimulations, is determined by -the laws of organized mind, by attention, memory, practice. - -A percept contains both less and more than the sensations corresponding -directly to the stimulations. According to the conditions discussed -under attention, certain sensations become focal at the expense of -others which become marginal. For example, of all things impressing -themselves upon my retina, only a few--usually, but not always, those in -the center of the field of vision--attain a high degree of -consciousness. And of these things again not all the qualities, but only -a few become highly conscious. If, as in this case, the visible things -happen to become highly conscious, the simultaneously existing audible -or tastable things are apt to remain at a low degree of consciousness. -That which is important for the needs of our daily life is specially -favored and becomes a part of the percept. That which has no practical -importance does not easily become a highly conscious part of the present -mind. The variations in color of a gown forming many folds are rarely -noticed. All parts of the gown are perceived as parts of the same -substance. That the whole gown is made of one kind of cloth is -practically important. That the various folds appear to the eye--because -of the variation of the illumination--somewhat different, is of no -practical consequence. Many quite common phenomena, after-images, -overtones, difference tones, are never known by the majority of people, -because of their practical unimportance. - -But a percept contains not only less, but also much more than the -sensations corresponding to the stimuli of the moment. Numerous images -are woven into this system of sensations and thus give additional -meaning to it. We may be said to _see_ that the things are hot or cold, -rough or smooth, heavy or light, although our eyes as mere sense organs -cannot give us any such information. In the same way we may be said to -see that the things are at this or that distance from our head, and that -this thing is nearer, that thing farther from us, although our inherited -ability to see things spatially does not give us any other information -than that of shape and size in the field of vision. By incessantly -repeated experiences we have learned, at an early age, that changes in -the distance of things which in this or that way have come to our -knowledge, are regularly accompanied by definite changes in their size, -their coloring, their appearance when the right eye’s image is compared -with the left eye’s image, and many similar changes of the impression. -Whenever such signs of changes in the distance are impressed upon our -mind, we immediately supplement them by ideas of the distances -themselves. Thus our original two-dimensional perception of space is -expanded into a three-dimensional perception. - -All knowledge of things, of their properties, their names, their uses, -their meanings, consists in supplementing our consciousness of those -qualities which they present to our senses, by images previously -obtained through any senses. The force of this supplementing can be -understood from the drawings of children and primitive peoples. That -which appears in the field of vision is often left unrepresented. Linear -perspective, for instance, does not exist in such drawings, although it -is a part of the sensory impression. On the other hand, many things are -given by the draughtsman which are invisible under the circumstances of -the situation, but which he regards as essential parts of the thing -because of their practical importance: for instance, both eyes of a -person seen in profile, equal length of all the legs of tables and -chairs, equal size of things at a distance and things near by. - -The significance of this supplementing by ideas is illustrated also in -pathological cases. It happens that some of the associative connections -in the brain are destroyed by disease, reducing the mind to a condition -like that of early childhood, when direct sense impressions alone -determined action. Patients may see the shape and color of a thing -correctly, may even be able to draw it or paint it, but are unable to -tell the name of the object, although they are perfectly familiar with -it. They cannot answer our question as to what purpose the thing serves; -possibly they give ridiculous answers, fitting an altogether different -thing. Only when they are permitted to use the kinesthetic and tactual -senses by taking the thing in their hands, do they recognize it. In -other cases the patient, although possessing his normal sensibility to -touch, is unable to recognize things by his hands alone, but recognizes -them at once when permitted to open his eyes. - -A particularly characteristic feature of our perception is the grouping -together into a mental unit of elements which are not united either -spatially by contiguity or nearness, or by similarity of their coloring, -or their other attributes. The grouping of such elements into a unitary -mental state is often the result of a repeated necessity for reacting -upon this sum of impressions by a unitary movement. The newspaper held -upside down does not invite the reaction of reading. Parts which are -separated by blank spaces or by black bars, are separately perceived. -But the words and sentences are not perceived, because we have not -previously been obliged to read under such conditions. Looking into a -furnished room I perceive at once tables, chairs, and other pieces of -furniture, although the legs of a chair, for example, are spatially and -by their coloring better connected with the carpet than with the back of -the chair. When I am looking at a portrait standing upside down, the -dark hair and the dark background become a mental unit, a percept of a -dark area. The light face is another mental unit. In upright position -the hair separates from the background and unites with the face. I then -perceive a person before a dark background, in spite of the similarity -of coloring between some parts of the figure and the background, in -spite of the difference of coloring between some parts of the figure and -other parts. The grouping of the elements in perception is therefore -widely different from that which would result from the stimuli directly. -It is determined by our habits of reaction upon such groups as -frequently appear together in the world in which we live. - -[Illustration: FIG. 16.--TWO POSSIBILITIES OF PERCEPTION.] - -Let us illustrate this by two figures. Figure 16 may be perceived as a -rabbit’s or as a duck’s head. When we perceive the figure as a rabbit’s -head, the white streaks to the right of the eye are two separate -sensation groups, each of them unified with respect to the effect -produced by them in our nervous system. They are then the animal’s lips. -At the same time the protrusions to the left make us conscious of -softness, warmth, flexibility. Now perceive the figure as a duck’s head. -Immediately those white streaks cease to be two separate units for our -mind. Together with the darker parts surrounding them, they affect our -mind as a single unit, the variegated back part of the duck’s head. And -at the same time the protrusions to the left make us conscious of -hardness, cold, rigidity. The sensory stimulations are exactly the -same, but they are differently grouped together, and they bring about -further nervous activities which greatly differ in these two -perceptions. - -[Illustration: FIG. 17.--VARIETIES OF PERCEPTION.] - -Figure 17, when shown to a person, is perceived as the result of a -child’s careless handling of his ink bottle, as an ink spot. But ask -this person if he does not see a boy falling downstairs, and immediately -certain elements are grouped together and affect us as being the legs, -other elements of sensation are perceived as the arms, and so on. And -now suggest to the same person to turn the page slightly to the right -and see a man trying to put on his shirt. Quickly the perception changes -again; but this time not so much by the breaking up of the former units -into their sensory elements and the formation of new units, as by a -change of the accompanying ideas. The previous suggestion tends to make -us perceive these sensations in one or the other way because it guides -our attention. But this guidance is possible only because certain groups -of sensational elements (for example, the groups illustrated by our -figures) have very often occurred in our mind in consequence of the fact -that they originate from external objects which have often been -presented to our sense organs among greatly varying surroundings. Thus -we have learned to group these elements together and to neglect, more or -less, all other elements which may be presented simultaneously. - -The total process of selective grouping and of furnishing the groups -formed with additional mental contents has often been called -_apperception_. But this meaning of the term apperception is not -universally adopted. Some mean by apperception mainly the selective -grouping of the elements, others mean by it exclusively the furnishing -with ideational contents. Because of its ambiguity the term -_apperception_ has been entirely omitted from the present book, and the -term _perception_ is used in its broadest sense, including both the -processes just mentioned. Perception thus means the working over by the -mind of any aggregate of sensational elements given at the time through -the sense organs. - - -2. _Illusions_ - -While the laws of perception are, on the whole, of the greatest benefit -to the organism surrounded by a confusing multitude of physical elements -bound together into a large number of more or less stable compounds, of -things, there are exceptional cases in which these same laws lead the -mind into a reaction not suitable to the situation presented. - -That which has often occurred is likely to recur. But it does not -regularly recur in the same manner. There are exceptions. It happens -that certain things occur in surroundings different from their usual -surroundings. These things are then perceived, that is, grouped together -and supplemented by images, in harmony with their usual surroundings. -But the perception is then in discord with the actual surroundings. To -the inhabitant of the plains the colors of things appear rather -saturated, and the outlines sharp, when these things are at a small -distance from the observer. Walking toward them, he is soon able to lay -hands on them. But when the air happens to be unusually moist, and -because of its diminished weight, free from the particles of dust which -have settled because of their weight, things look unusually near, and on -walking toward them he discovers that it takes more time to reach them -than he expected. The same happens when he goes to the mountains for his -vacation, because there the air is always comparatively free from dust. -We have here a foreseeing of what ordinarily becomes the subsequent -experience, but fails to become it in this instance. - -There is another kind of illusion based on the fact that sensations -which have been imagined just before the stimuli became effective, are -thereby favored and become unusually vivid. This law of attention holds -good also when the stimuli are not in exact correspondence with the -preceding images. In such a case the perception is more or less -assimilated to those images, so that the same stimuli result in somewhat -different percepts according to circumstances. “How heavy it is!” said a -friend of Davy’s, when the discoverer of potassium placed a little piece -of this metal on his finger. Potassium is so light that it floats on -water, but the metallic appearance produced the image of pressure and -changed the sensation into a percept of something heavy. When two pieces -of gray paper, equally bright but of slightly different coloring, are -put before me side by side, and I ask myself: is not the yellowish paper -lighter than the bluish paper, immediately it seems to be lighter. But I -begin to doubt and ask myself: is not the yellowish paper darker than -the other; and immediately it looks darker. - -Let no one say that this is only “imaginary,” meaning by this word that -there are in my mind both the objectively true impression and an -incorrect image of something similar. Such is not the case. There is no -duality of consciousness. There is one unitary experience. Only -scientific reflection reveals the fact that this unitary experience has -two sources, one in the external stimulation, the other in the central -nervous excitation. The result of these sources, the percept, does not -betray the doubleness of its origin any more than a stream at its mouth -shows the doubleness of its sources. It is a universal property of -perception to be determined not by sensory stimulation alone, although -this is the primary factor, but also by images, by nervous dispositions. -The more vivid such images, the greater is their influence--now and then -their _deceptive_ influence--on our consciousness of the objectively -existing. Suggestion is a name which has recently been accepted for such -an influence. Illusion is another name for it, in case it is rather -pronounced and ill adapted to the object. - - - QUESTIONS - - 125. What kinds of mental states are called perceptions? - - 126. Illustrate the change of a percept into a mental state not - worthy of the name, caused by a change of the situation which - involves neither a subtraction nor an addition of stimuli. - - 127. What impressions become a part of the percept, and what - impressions do not? - - 128. Show that a percept contains not only less, but also more than - the sensations corresponding to the stimuli of the moment. - - 129. What can we learn about perception from the drawings of - children? - - 130. Illustrate the perception of a thing whose parts appear - spatially separate. (None of the illustrations in the text strictly - answers this question.) - - 131. What changes occur when a rabbit’s head is perceived as a - duck’s head? - - 132. Are illusions signs of mental abnormality? What are they? - - 133. What two classes of illusions are distinguished in the text? - - -§ 15. IDEATION - -The same laws which govern the supplementing of impressions by images, -govern also the supplementing of images by other images. We refer to the -appearance of images supplementing other images by the word -_remembering_, or _ideation_. - -What we remember is always deficient in details compared with what we -perceive. Remember a landscape, a street scene, a well-known person. -Innumerable details are always lacking in the idea, although they were -present in the corresponding percept. These details which are lacking -may be either parts separable from the object, or mere attributes of -sensation inseparable from the sensation. On the other hand, ideas are -richer than percepts. They contain elements obtained from other similar -perceptions and added by association, as when the idea of a landscape is -enriched by a tower, the idea of a person by a beard, which actually are -not present at these places. - -Ideas are also strongly influenced and altered by other ideas which -happen to be in consciousness at the same time (“set of the mind”); for -instance by questions, particularly by questions in the negative -form--“did you not,” “was this not,”--by the wish to make a good -impression upon others, and by similar factors. We may have no intention -of exaggerating, in Falstaff’s fashion, the significance of our deeds; -nevertheless our memories become gradually modified so that the -uncommon, the important, the valuable in them is emphasized, and the -common, the insignificant, the unpleasant is obliterated. Wherever our -memories are fragmentary and indefinite, they offer but slight -resistance to questions attacking this point, for instance: Do you -believe that the gentleman was as tall as you are? - -Memories are thus, not exceptionally, but universally inaccurate -representations of that which has been perceived. This has recently been -proved by direct experimental tests. Since percepts, although they rest -on a foundation of external stimulation, are so strongly influenced by -the mind’s own manner of functioning, the existence of this influence in -the case of imagery, lacking such a foundation, is not surprising. -Although memories are but rarely totally misleading, mankind has long -ago learned to rely upon memory in all important business and legal -transactions only when there is agreement between the memories of -several witnesses. The changeableness of memory is particularly strong -in the child’s mind. The perceptual experiences have not been so often -repeated as in the adult mind, and the practical importance of accuracy -of remembering has not made itself so much felt. For both reasons the -child’s memory is very unreliable. - -The word _imagination_ is frequently used to signify a specially strong -ability to modify memories by associated images. Thus we speak of the -imagination of the child--but also of the artist and the scientist. -Without imagination the scientist would not succeed in his task of -making the phenomena of nature more comprehensible by showing the -consequences of the remotest relations between things. It is clear, -however, that imagination is not a fundamental “faculty” of the mind, -separable from other “faculties,” but a result of the fundamental laws -governing mental functions. - -Let us turn to the fragmentary nature of reproduced experience and -discuss its significance. That previous experience can be reproduced -only in fragments is the direct result of the selective power of -attention, which asserts itself in both perception and ideation. Not -every quality of a thing presented is equally interesting. A child -having a watch takes interest mainly in the ticking and in the glitter -of the golden case. Meeting a dog, he gives attention to the terrifying -bark and the multiplicity of legs. Suppose now that the dog regularly -occurred together with a special impression, perhaps a spoken word; then -the recurring of this symbol will tend to reproduce in the child’s mind -the image of the dog. But the pressure of many competing tendencies does -not permit the reproduction of all the qualities of the dog which have -become conscious on former meetings with this animal. Only an extract, -so to speak, of these qualities is reproduced, and this is made up of -those which were formerly especially interesting,--the bark and the -legs. - -Another factor determining the selection of special qualities of a thing -for reproduction is the frequency with which each quality reappears in -things which are different in certain respects, but in other respects -belong to the same class. The trees of a forest beside which I am -walking have many individual differences. But certain features are -common to all the trees. These common features reappear again and again, -while each of the other features appears only now and then. The same can -be said of various dogs met on the street, of various tones of a violin, -and so on. If the perception of the trees is experienced together with a -certain other percept which may serve as a symbol for the trees, for -example the word _tree_, the association of the symbol with those -regularly repeated qualities becomes firmly established, whereas the -association with the other, more or less varying qualities, remains -comparatively feeble. The result is that the symbol tends to reproduce -almost exclusively the former qualities. These come to make up a -separate group of images, a general idea. - -The laws of attention, practice, and memory, together with the simple -uniformity of nature just mentioned, produce thus a peculiar result. -They remove ideation from the accidents of external events in an -incomparably higher degree than perception. They bring about ideas of -the separate qualities of the things perceived, _abstractions_, and -ideas of common features, _general ideas_. In many cases an idea is both -an abstraction and a general idea. Examples of such ideas to which no -equally simple concrete object corresponds, are the idea of a mere -length, the color red, sight, a dog in general, a tree in general. - -These ideas are of eminent importance for all higher mental development. -Mind, in them, departs from that which nature presents, but only in -order to take possession of it more securely by systematization and by -overcoming the narrow limits of the capacity of consciousness. - -By separating the common qualities of things from those which vary we -classify the things into kinds and species, we think of them as being in -various ways related. Instead of having an incomprehensible mass of -things standing side by side, we have a system of coördinated and -subordinated things, of groups formed according to closer or remoter -relationship; and thus it becomes a comparatively easy matter to survey -the multitude of things of which nature consists. Not only order, but -law too is thus brought into the phenomena of nature. If we collect -sticks of wood and set fire to the pile, we notice that some of them -burn lustily, others smolder and smoke, still others do not burn at all. -Why so? Repetition of similar experiences is necessary before we can -give an answer; but mere repetition of the same event does not enable -us to give the answer. The event must be broken up and general ideas -must be formed out of the elements of the event. Then only can we answer -the question. Some of the sticks burn because they are dry. Others do -not burn so well or do not burn at all because they are wet. Neither -shape nor color nor origin nor many other qualities of the sticks have -any causal connection with the difference of burning and not burning. -Both order and law in nature are recognized by abstraction. - -Equally important is the overcoming of the narrowness of consciousness -by abstraction and generalization. When I am thinking of trees, the -contents of my mind are very few. There may be a word image, a visual -image of something tall and branching; hardly more. All the special -features of trees of all kinds are absent from consciousness. So I can -easily think of additional things, for instance of the age which trees -may reach, or the elevation at which trees cease to grow. But the moment -I begin by accident to think of a thing which does not harmonize with -those features of the tree which thus far have been absent from -consciousness, immediately those features become conscious and inhibit -the contradictory thoughts. They have been unconscious and yet we cannot -say that they have been sheer nothing. The consciousness of the general -idea has in some way prepared the path for the special features from -which it has been abstracted. They have been carried close to the door -of consciousness, so to speak, and the slightest impulse coming from an -associated idea will cause them to enter. This is our meaning when we -say that within the general idea of which we are conscious all those -special features are included. They are included by representation, the -general idea being the deputy taking care of their interests. Thus our -mind is freed from the necessity of carrying at any moment a heavy load -of actual states of consciousness and is nevertheless able to act as -reasonably as if those mental states were present. In using -representative ideas, our mind has actually at its service the enormous -number of all those individual ideas which are represented by them. - - - QUESTIONS - - 134. Enumerate in what different respects ideation is (more or - less) similar to perception. - - 135. Why are reproduced experiences fragmentary? - - 136. How does a general idea originate? - - 137. What is the difference between abstractions and general ideas? - - 138. Can an idea be both an abstraction and a general idea? - - 139. Illustrate the formation of a natural law by means of - abstraction and generalization. - - 140. With what feature of political life may the service of a - general idea in mental life be compared? - - -§ 16. LANGUAGE - - -1. _Word Imagery_ - -There can be no doubt that animals are to some extent able to -generalize. A dog or a cat is trained to distinguish between indoors and -outdoors and to adjust its behavior accordingly. This would be -impossible if the dog possessed no general notion of room or street. - -But these generalizations remain rather insignificant so long as they -are not connected with one definite image which stands as a symbol for -the whole class of things. Nature scarcely presents to us any images -which could be used as symbols of this kind. What are we invariably -conscious of when thinking of books, or of trees, or of -houses--something that is not only invariable, but also readily -separable in our imagination? It is difficult to name anything which -fulfills these conditions. But man created what he did not find in -nature, symbols which can be used as meaning whole classes of objects -and relations of objects. The totality of these symbols is human -language. - -These symbols are normally divided into four classes of imagery, four -languages, so to speak, in such a manner that each class of objects has -a symbol in each of the four languages. The first of these languages -acquired by the child is the auditory language, made up of the sounds of -the words spoken by others. Soon after having begun to understand spoken -words, the child begins to speak himself. Thus he acquires a second -language, made up of kinesthetic imagery of his vocal organs. These -languages are the only ones possessed by illiterates. In school the -child learns to read, that is, he acquires a third class of symbols, -consisting of visual images of written and printed words. One might of -course speak of these as two visual languages, since the sight of -written words differs somewhat from the sight of printed words. Finally -the child learns to write, and thus acquires a fourth language, made up -of kinesthetic images of the writing hand. - -These are, of course, not the only languages possible. The blind-born, -unable to acquire visual imagery, substitute tactual word imagery by -learning to read raised letters or the raised point script generally -taught in institutions for the blind. But a seeing person, too, may -acquire this tactual language in addition to the other four. The -deaf-born acquire a visual language made up of the images of the hand -and the fingers representing symbolically letters and words. But it is -hardly worth while to enumerate all these minor languages. The most -important ones practically are these four: the auditory, the visual -(written and printed), the kinesthetic of the vocal organs, and the -kinesthetic of the writing hand. - -We saw that the origin of all these languages, that is, classes of word -images, is to be found in speech. How speech itself originated in the -human race is a problem which thus far is not solved, or at least, of -which no proposed solution has thus far been universally accepted. Some -light is shed upon it by the answer to the simpler question as to the -origin of speech in childhood. Only during the last few decades has this -question been given attention, obviously because this growth of speech, -as an everyday occurrence, seemed to ask for no explanation. The child -imitates!--what else should be said about it? But in order to imitate, -the child must first be able to produce the elements of the things to be -imitated. And by imitation speech only is acquired, but not the full -significance of language. - - -2. _The Acquisition of Speech_ - -(1) Speech originates from instinctive activities of the vocal organs. -As a child, when left to himself and feeling well, plays with his hands -and kicks, he also, in response to all kinds of external and internal -stimulations, moves instinctively (that is, because of his inherited -nervous connections) lips and tongue, larynx and chest, and produces a -great number of different sounds and sound combinations--not only those -which are used in the language of his people, but also the strangest -crowing and smacking and clucking sounds. He cannot produce speech -sounds without immediately hearing them. Thus an association is formed -between sound perception, kinesthetic perception, and motor activity; -and soon the sound of his own voice stimulates the child to further -production of these speech sounds. This explains why the same sounds are -often so many times repeated in an infant’s babble, and why baby talk -contains so many reduplications like papa, mama, byby, and so on. - -(2) The sounds invented by the child are used by the parents and other -people in their communications with the child. They select from the -large number those which are like speech sounds of their own language. -They address the child with these words again and again, forming also -brief sentences, and thus stimulate the child to produce at will the -words which he has at his command, in these combinations and sentences. -The child thus becomes more and more skillful in the production of these -words. Meanwhile the numerous other baby words which have no -significance for the people surrounding him, are gradually lost from the -child’s mind, so that later they can no longer be produced voluntarily. -Practically every child can, on the basis of his articulating instinct, -learn any language spoken anywhere on earth. But in later years, when -this instinct has weakened and has been replaced by the habit of -producing the sounds of a particular language, it is a difficult matter -to learn to speak a new language. The sound perception as well as the -sound production is then assimilated to the “native” speech, and the -words of the foreign language are consequently spoken in a manner -similar to the words of the native language. This is meant when we say -that foreign languages acquired in adult life are, as a rule, spoken -with an “accent.” - -The activity of grown people influences the child’s talking in yet -another way. The child hears those words which are selected by the -people surrounding him, usually in the presence of the persons and -things and events for which the words serve as symbols. Thus new -associations are formed. To the kinesthetic and auditory word images is -added imagery of the word’s meaning. The child comes to experience the -words as symbols and to reproduce ideas of the words when the things -appear as percepts or images. Only then can we say that the child has -really learned to speak, to express his perceptions, his images, and his -feeling and willing in speech. - -(3) When the child has reached this stage when he begins to comprehend -the practical importance of this activity of his vocal organs, he begins -to imitate voluntarily, eagerly, the speech of grown people. This -imitation is to some extent mechanical, without involving any -comprehension of the meaning of the words. The child simply enjoys being -able to produce the same words which grown people use. This imitation is -in many cases at first very imperfect, because many elementary sounds -necessary for these words have not been produced instinctively thus far -and therefore cannot be produced voluntarily, the kinesthetic imagery -being lacking. But soon even the more difficult sounds are produced -accurately. The vocal organs acquire the habit of assuming certain -normal positions, from which the special activity of speech in each case -of pronunciation proceeds. In a few years the total number of words -necessary for a command of the language is acquired. But voluntary -imitation is not restricted to mere pronunciation. It is applied also to -the modes of uniting words into compounds, phrases, sentences. The -result of this application is the creation of new compounds out of the -words which the child has at his command at the time, of new methods of -applying inflection, to the amusement of those who surround him. The -following are a few examples of such creations: _goed_ for _went_, -_chair_ for _sitting_, _more pencil_ for _I want the other pencil_, -_mussing down_ as the antonym of _mussing up_. - -Voluntary imitation, therefore, does not altogether mean assimilation to -the language which the child hears spoken; to some extent it means -departure from that language, resulting from the mental capacities with -which he has been endowed by nature. In another way too the child’s -language must differ from that of grown people. All acquisition of -speech is based on perception and is subject to the laws of perception. -We have previously seen that perception is largely dependent on the -interest of the person who perceives, on his previous experiences. - -A child’s interests are totally different from those of a grown person, -so that many words cannot assume in the child’s mind the meaning which -they possess in the adult’s mind. At a later stage this difficulty can -to some extent be overcome by the aid of language itself, by explaining -in words the meaning of a new word. At the beginning this is of course -impossible. So a large number of words used by adults remain for a long -time entirely meaningless to the child, especially abstract words, -relative words (_to-day_, _here_, _I_), and words meaning things with -which the child does not come in contact. Even those which he seems to -understand perfectly have a different meaning. A watch is to the child -something which ticks and sparkles. The adult’s meaning of the word can -in no manner be conveyed to the child. The name of a particular article -of food may be used for all things which are edible, also for eating, -for hunger, and so on. A certain baby called his father, mother, nurse, -sister, all by the same name, _dada_, then applied this word also to -his bottle, and finally to every interesting object. - -This does not mean that children generalize more than adults, that they -have a superior logical capacity. The meaning of the child’s words is -often more general than that of adults because the child takes interest -in fewer qualities, and naturally finds these in a greater number of -objects. But the difference is not that of a greater power of -generalization. Very often the child’s words have a more special -meaning. A child is not likely to use the word _animal_ as meaning -worms, birds, and horses. The difference lies in the fact that the child -uses the word as a symbol for a thing or quality which is conspicuous to -_him_, interesting to _him_. A child’s language is amusing to grown -people only because they do not know the meaning which the words have in -the child’s mind, and are inclined to substitute the meaning which they -have in their own minds. - -(4) In spite of all imitation, the individual’s language is largely his -own creation adapted to his individual needs. To the extent to which the -children of a community, of a nation, have similar interests and similar -experiences, these individual creations must be similar. But to the -extent to which interests and experiences differ, language must differ. -Baby talk which is quite comprehensible to the members of one family is -incomprehensible to those of another family. Similarly, the language of -one tribe of the human race has come to differ from that of another -tribe, one nation’s language from that of another nation. Family -differences, of course, cannot last long. The child’s language -assimilates itself to the language of the people at large as soon as the -child comes under the influence of people outside of the family. This is -the fourth stage in the development of an individual’s language, -lasting much longer than the three preceding stages, indeed practically -never ending. From mistakes in comprehending others, from mistakes of -others caused by his own language, or from special instruction in -school, the individual learns how the words which he uses are to be -understood in order to agree with the general usage of language, and -thus approaches more and more the ideal of uniformity of speech. - -This uniformity, however, can never become complete. The number of words -of which various individuals have command always differs. Their meanings -always differ slightly, sometimes considerably. Accordingly the phrases -and sentences which one uses differ from those of others. Every one has -his own linguistic style. For most practical purposes the actual -uniformity of language is sufficient. Not a few misunderstandings, -discussions, quarrels, however, have their source in the insufficiency -of this uniformity. This is regrettable, but unavoidable. The nature of -mind creates language such as it is, and mind has to make the best of -it. It is only on a very high level of mental development that men -succeed in creating for definite purposes definite languages which admit -of almost no differences of meaning; for instance, the symbolic systems -of mathematics and chemistry. But these systems prove that the very -perfection carries with it an imperfection. The specific power, the art -and beauty of language, are not to be sought in mathematical and -chemical treatises. They depend on the speaker’s and hearer’s -individuality. - - -3. _The Growth of Language_ - -Just as one individual’s language differs from that of another -individual, the language of one time differs from the same nation’s -language at another time. The words of a language change or are -replaced by new ones. The inflections change, are probably simplified, -or as in the case of the English language, almost completely lost. The -manner of forming compounds, phrases, and sentences is altered. The -meaning of the words is no more fixed; many words change their original -meaning entirely, even to the opposite. Changes of the former -kind--changes of the sounds, their inflections, and their -combinations--are brought about partly by external and fortuitous -conditions, such as the Danish invasion of England or the Norman -conquest, also by greater ease of pronunciation. But here the laws -governing mental life are also determining factors, and in the changes -of meaning every growth depends on these laws. The same forces which -build up the child’s language in conformity with his experiences, -thoughts, interests, and needs, bring about also the gradual changes of -a nation’s language in conformity with the changing experiences, -thoughts, and needs. - -Under special circumstances one among all the properties or features of -a person or thing may occupy the mind almost exclusively, as of Julius -Cæsar the despotic power which he obtained, of Captain Boycott the ban -which was placed upon him. In such cases, when the name is heard and -pronounced, the special feature impresses itself upon the mind. The -speaker thinks of little else than this. And when the necessity arises -of expressing in a word that peculiarity in another place under -different surroundings, the individual name offers itself, since its -original meaning has already been modified, since it has already lost -most of its individual significance. The part of its meaning which is -retained is now generally applied. An expansion of the special meaning -has taken place. - -On the other hand, words which were originally applied to many things -in many different situations come to signify a particular thing under -particular circumstances. This change of meaning is illustrated by the -names which the state or nation gives its officers. President, -secretary, general, captain, had originally a very broad meaning, but -when applied to the officers of the state have a very special meaning. -It is easy to explain this. The word _captain_, meaning originally -merely the chief of any aggregation of people, is naturally applied by -the speaker most frequently to the chief of that company of men in which -he is particularly interested. The chief of another company of men is -then no longer called by this simple name, but additional names are -used. The word when used without additional words comes to mean -exclusively the chief of the special group which is of main interest to -the speaker. Similarly, _city_ assumes for the person living in the -country the meaning of the city near by. _Gas_ means for the man who is -not a physicist only the ordinary illuminating gas. - -Other changes of meaning resulting from associative connection and a -transference of attention are the metaphors and metonymies. A metaphor -is a figure of speech in which one object is spoken of as if it were -another; for example, when St. Luke says, “Go ye, and tell that fox,” -meaning Herod. A metonymy is the exchange of names between things -related. _Toilet_ meant originally a small cloth, a napkin, spread over -a table. Then it came to mean the table itself, used in the process of -dressing. Then it meant the process of dressing one’s hair, later the -general process of dressing one’s self. It also assumed the meaning of a -person’s actual dress, his costume; also the style of dress. More -recently it has come to mean the toilet room, the lavatory. - -Many changes in the meaning of words result from certain secondary -purposes of the speaker. We usually address another person in order to -obtain something from him. In order to succeed, we must keep or make him -good humored, give him his proper honors and titles, flatter him rather -than call attention to his faults. The consequence of this exaggeration -of the person’s value is that all titles, all forms of appellation, -especially those addressed to the female sex, tend to deteriorate, to -lose their original value. _Lady_ no longer means the wife of a -nobleman, but is applied to a washerwoman. _Sir_ is used in a letter -addressed to any man, however low his rank. - -Deterioration of the meaning of words is not restricted to those used -for appellation. Whenever we desire to convey any thought to others, we -must make it appear important enough to have people give attention to -it. We therefore choose terms which mean more than we intend to say, -rather than terms which mean exactly as much or less. We call things -lovely or horrid when we mean only agreeable or disagreeable, we speak -of heaven or hell when we mean only a good or a bad place. The -inevitable result is, of course, that the impressive words become -insipid. We call a student fair who is only mediocre, merely because of -our good will towards him. _Fair_ then comes to mean mediocre, and we -call a student fair who is a poor student. Finally, a fair student comes -to mean a poor student. - -Those who are particularly anxious to use impressive language--young -people, students, soldiers--often use the other extreme for the same -purpose. They use words which signify low or bad things and relations -(slang) in order to refer to the things and relations of ordinary life -to which they want to call attention. “Grub” comes to mean human food. -“Being plucked” takes the place of “being rejected at an honor -examination.” _Puritan_ and _quaker_ are slang terms of the seventeenth -century which have entirely lost their original meaning of contempt and -ridicule. In the same way words of low meaning are all the time being -raised into the realm of good language. - -Speech depends as much on the totality of mental life as perception. A -person’s choice of words, their forms and their connections, are -determined by previous habits of using words, by experience concerning -those qualities of things which are most important to his own interests, -by his consciousness of his present needs and ends. The general purpose -of communication between the members of society tends to obliterate -differences between individuals and between generations. But it never -does this perfectly. Individuality, circumstances, and special purpose -give to the language of each person an individual stamp; and the -succession of individuals, of historical conditions, of the varying -needs of successive generations, brings about unavoidably alterations in -the language. These alterations are retarded by the existence of a -written language, of literature. They may also be retarded artificially -by training and compelling the members of a community to use the same -words and the same rules of grammar and syntax. Such artificial -remedies, however, are not without serious disadvantages. They take the -life out of language. Force, beauty, and particularly truthfulness in -representation of thoughts are likely to be sacrificed unless we are -willing to admit a certain amount of lawlessness, which, after all, is -the outcome of the fundamental laws of the mind. - - -4. _The Significance of Language_ - -Aside from its social significance as the almost exclusive means of -communication among the members of society, language has its -significance for purely individual mental activity and mental growth. -This has already been referred to above. Language makes possible an -almost unlimited refinement of abstract thought, a complete analysis of -the data of perceptual, ideational, and affective life into their -elements, and the construction out of them of new concepts, first -according to their similarities, then according to purposes. Such -concepts as acceleration, pitch of tone, irrational number, atomic heat, -justice, bliss, would be impossible without language. To the invention -of such abstract concepts mankind owes its subjugation of nature. It is -difficult to think of the exact manner in which bodies fall when they -are dropped; some fall slowly, others with great velocity, some do not -fall at all, but rise. But think of them as being in space from which -the air has been exhausted, and apply the concept of acceleration. At -once the matter is very simple, and it includes even the heavenly bodies -with which we never come in direct contact: all bodies fall with -_constant acceleration_. - -This is but one of innumerable instances. Practically all laws of -physics, chemistry, philology, psychology, and all the other sciences -are stated in terms of highly abstract concepts. Imagine, for example, -the sine or tangent of an angle, electromotor force, molecular weight, -consonants and vowels, intensity of sensation. None of these abstract -concepts and none of the laws in which they appear could have been -invented without the aid of language. How restricted, further, would be -our knowledge without language! How limited the exchange of opinions! -Think of such a phrase as “the events of the last thirty years.” What a -multitude of ideas is suggested by it in the most economical manner! Few -of these ideas actually become conscious; but all of them are made ready -to serve if their services should be needed. - -Language further enables us to overcome, whenever this is necessary, the -ambiguity of its own elements (the words) which results from the -individual and historical conditions influencing the growth of speech. -The meaning of words can be fixed by definition. Such words as _circle_, -_energy_, _freedom_, have many different meanings (a circle of friends, -the energy of style, the freedom of a city). The physicist defines -energy as the capacity for performing mechanical work, excluding any and -all other meanings. The philosopher defines freedom as the possession of -the power to act in accordance with one’s inherent nature, independent -of external causes. Because of the association between the defined and -the defining words, the latter keep the defined word from being used -wrongly, by entering consciousness when the defined word happens to be -used in an improper connection. It is true that, in order to insure -constancy of meaning, the defining words, too, should be defined again -by others, and so on. A perfect definition is therefore an ideal which -can be approached, but never reached. In spite of this, the value to -human thought and knowledge of clearly defined concepts is immeasurable. - - - QUESTIONS - - 141. Why does generalization play such an insignificant part in the - mental life of animals? - - 142. What are the four languages of educated normal people? - - 143. Which of these languages is acquired first by the child? - - 144. How does baby talk originate? - - 145. How are the reduplications of baby talk to be explained? - - 146. What is the origin of “a foreign accent” in speech? - - 147. Why does voluntary imitation of speech sounds by a baby - develop at first very slowly? - - 148. Illustrate the inventiveness of children in learning to - speak. - - 149. What could make one think that children surpass grown people - in the ability to generalize? - - 150. What are the four stages in the development of an individual’s - language? - - 151. What is the advantage or disadvantage of uniformity and - individuality in the use of language? - - 152. Illustrate how a word of individual meaning changes to a - general meaning. - - 153. Illustrate how a word of general meaning changes to an - individual meaning. - - 154. Explain the psychological origin of a metaphor and a metonymy. - - 155. Illustrate and explain the deterioration of words. - - 156. Illustrate slang and explain its origin. - - 157. Is it desirable that the written language should retard the - growth of the spoken language? Give reasons for your answer. - - 158. What significance has language besides serving as a means of - communication? - - 159. What is a definition? Why can a definition never become - perfect? - - -§ 17. JUDGMENT AND REASON - - -1. _Coherent Thought_ - -When I receive a letter from a friend, I perceive its words, I become -conscious of their meaning, I remember my relations to him; for -instance, the time of our first meeting. But my thought proceeds. I -wonder how he is getting along now, whether better or worse than myself, -whether he has succeeded in overcoming through his greater energy the -obstacles which retarded my progress. This is more than perception, -imagination, or abstract consciousness. It is a _coherent process of -thinking_. The best way of describing its characteristics is to tell -what the opposite of _coherent_ thought is. - -First, coherent thought is not dreaming. The elements of a dream are of -course united by something. But they are united only like the links of -a chain. If the second link were removed, nothing would hold the first -and the third together. This chain-like thought is frequent in the -insane. The following is an example from Diefendorf’s _Psychiatry_:-- - - “My mother came for me in January. She had on a black bombazine of - Aunt Jane’s. One shoestring of her own and got another from - neighbor Jenkins. She lives in a little white house kitty corner of - our’n. Come up with an old green umbrella ’cause it rained. You - know it can rain in January when there is a thaw. Snow wasn’t more - than half an inch deep, hog-killing time, they butchered eight that - winter, made their own sausages, cured hams, and tried out their - lard. They had a smoke house. [Question: But how about your leaving - Hartford?] She got up to Hartford on the half-past eleven train and - it was raining like all get out. Dr. Butler was having dinner, - codfish, twasn’t Friday, he ain’t no Catholic, just sat with his - back to the door and talked and laughed and talked.” - -In other cases, mere similarity of words of different meaning, rhyme, -familiar questions, or spatial contiguity of things lead consciousness -from one idea to a second, from the second to the third, and so on, -without any common tie which would unite all these ideas into one -system. - -Coherent thought, secondly, is no endless recurring of the same few -ideas, as when I am brooding over something, when a song which I have -heard occupies my mind and gives me no peace, when the thought of having -possibly failed to lock the door properly prevents me from sleeping. -This recurring kind of thought, too, is a frequent symptom in cases of -mental derangement; for example, as a continuously present desire to -kill somebody, or as the permanent idea of one’s own sinfulness and -worthlessness. - -Coherent thought is intermediate between the two extremes just -mentioned. It is a train of thought regulated by the associative -connections between all the separate ideas and one central idea which -dominates and unifies the whole. The thought of a football game or of -the destiny of the United States branches out into innumerable partial -thoughts, each one leading to another one. But they are all united by -their relation to this game or to this nation. Such a coherent thought -need not possess a considerable length. Sometimes, as in unconstrained -conversation or in letter writing, it may soon be followed by another -coherent thought, this by a third, and so on, and these may be related -to each other merely like the links of a chain. Sometimes, however, it -lasts for hours, as in lecturing on a definite subject, or in writing or -reading a chapter of a book or a whole book. - -Coherent thought depends largely on _memory_, on associative -connections. But it depends also on those conditions which determine -_attention_: unless the thoughts have an affective value, unless they -are interesting to the individual in question, they are not likely to -enter consciousness. Because of this dependence on the conditions of -attention, certain persons are capable of coherent thought in some -lines, but not in others. Whenever the purely _associative_ function -predominates over the conditions of _attention_, or conversely, those -abnormalities occur of which we have just spoken, mere chain-like -thought, or obsession by a single idea. - -Nothing else favors coherent thought so much as the possession of -language. The simplicity of a word or phrase and its connection with -experiences of unlimited complexity enable the mind to keep within one -system of thought in spite of temporary deviations, numerous and winding -though they be. Such complicated ideas, inexhaustible to him who tries -to describe them, as propriety, honor, duty, may guide and determine a -long-continued train of thoughts and actions. The most important one of -all these guiding ideas, crystallizing around a single word, is the idea -of self, of _I_. - - -2. _The Self and the World_ - -Among the impressions received by a child through his sense organs, some -must very early distinguish themselves from the rest. (1) When the child -is carried about or creeps about, the majority of his impressions change -from moment to moment: instead of a wall with pictures, seen a few -seconds ago, he sees windows with curtains; instead of tables and chairs -he sees houses, trees, and strange people. Certain impressions, however, -hardly change. Whatever else he may see, he almost invariably sees also -his hands and some of the lower parts of his body. Whatever may be the -position of his body, sensations from his clothing, from the movements -of his limbs, from the processes in his digestive and other organs are -always present. (2) Another impressive phenomenon is this. The things -seen often move, and thus cause alterations in the field of vision. But -when these moving things are his own arms and legs, yielding to the pull -of their muscles, there is an additional experience, made up of -kinesthetic and usually also tactual sensations. Certain experiences are -therefore a kind of twofold experience as compared with others which are -of one kind only: visual plus kinesthetic-tactual. (3) In still a third -way certain experiences distinguish themselves. Whenever the child’s -hands and feet come in contact with external things, a tactual sensation -is added to the visual impression. But when one hand touches the other -hand or a foot or another part of the body, even a part which is not -seen, a peculiar double tactual impression is received. That this -double tactual sensation is particularly interesting may be concluded -from the concentration with which an infant plays with his feet, and the -enjoyment which a kitten seems to get from biting its tail. - -For various reasons, therefore, the sensations of a child’s _own body_, -visual, tactual, organic, etc., become experiences of a special class. -By various peculiarities they distinguish themselves from all others and -become a special, unitary group. But the child’s _ideas and feelings_, -when compared with his perceptions, also form a peculiar system, often -keeping unchanged while the perceptions change because of movements of -the objective things or of the body itself. It is quite natural, then, -that in opposition to the external world _a dual system_ is conceived, -made up of the bodily sensations on the one hand and the ideas and -feelings of frequently repeated or especially impressive experiences on -the other. But in spite of this unison between the complex of bodily -sensations and the complex of ideas, forming a personal world as opposed -to the external world, there remains an opposition between the -constituents of the personal world as between a material and a spiritual -half of the whole. - -This complex idea of a personal world, of personality, which constantly -increases in content, is given a special name, John or Mary, and still -later another name, _I_. The unity of the idea of personality, the -readiness of its appearance in consciousness in spite of the multitude -of its contents, is greatly enhanced by this name. The idea _I_ becomes -the omnipresent and dominating factor in consciousness. I can see -nothing, hear nothing, imagine nothing without, however vaguely, -thinking that it is _I_ who reads, _I_ who answers, _I_ who designs. It -is altogether impossible to express such thoughts in language without -reference to the _I_ or the _mine_. In the ecstasy of the mystic or the -mental exaltation of the insane, the idea of _I_ may be absent, but -never under normal conditions at an age beyond that of infancy. -Consciousness in which the idea of _I_ is rather pronounced is commonly -called self-consciousness. - -It is plain enough that thinking of the other half of the world, other -than the self, is also facilitated by such names as “the world,” “the -external world.” But the concept of the external world does not easily -attain the unity of the concept of self, because the experiences -referred to are too changeable in comparison with those referred to by -_I_. We speak of the external world chiefly in order to distinguish it -from the self, not because of the unity of its conception. - -The extraordinary support which the consciousness of self receives from -language has had also a certain undesirable consequence. We have -mentioned in an earlier chapter the universal desire to imagine the -world as being under the power of innumerable demons. The consciousness -of the self thus leads naturally to the thought of a demon who inhabits -the human body. When a person under ordinary conditions is conscious of -the _I_, there is no time for its content to unfold itself to any -considerable extent. Usually one small group of ideas enters -consciousness, even when I ask myself the question as to what I am: -ideas of a certain visual appearance, a certain position in society, a -certain age, certain aims in life. It seems then that the concept of -self is exceedingly simple. This apparent simplicity gives aid to the -idea of the existence of a simple demon, independent of time, eternal, -inhabiting and governing this body as long as its organs are held -together by their normal physiological functions, after the body’s death -going elsewhere--whither, we do not know. But this conclusion as to the -existence of a simple, unitary subjective reality is no more justifiable -than the statement that, because of the simplicity of the idea _it_ in -ordinary language, there must be an absolutely simple objective reality -which corresponds to it. - -Mind may justly be called a unity. But it is not a simple, indescribable -unity, a unitary something separable from the sum of the parts of which -it consists. It is, rather, a unity comparable to the unity of an animal -organism or a plant, which may be well described as consisting of so -many different parts functioning together according to definite laws. -Within the unity of the mind there are smaller groups which may also be -called unities, though in a restricted sense. The _I_ is one of these -subordinate unities. It, too, is not simple, but consists of parts, -sometimes a greater, sometimes a smaller number. It may expand and -include almost as much content as mind itself, provided that time is -given for such an expansion, and a sufficient stimulus. Usually the _I_ -is very poor in content, hardly anything else than the word-idea which -is the representative of the whole concept. - - -3. _Intelligence_ - -It is but natural that thought is largely in harmony with the actual -facts. Its contents are derived from sensory experiences, are molded by -sensory experiences, and must therefore often be anticipations of -sensory experiences. With reference to its agreement or disagreement -with the actual facts, we give our thought the name of truth, -knowledge--or error. Both truths and errors, like perceptions and -illusions, are the results of the laws governing mental functions. But -truths are more common in the mental life of certain individuals than in -that of others. Youth is more apt than mature age to give free rein to -its imagination, no matter whether it agrees with reality or not. This -is partly the result of the mature man’s realizing the high value of -this agreement and therefore striving for it; partly the unintended -consequence of innumerable pleasant and sad experiences, of adaptations -which have proved now more, now less successful. But aside from such -differences developing during life, there are immense differences of a -similar kind resulting from native capacities. We speak of such -capacities as reason, judgment, intelligence. - -Intelligence does not consist merely in a good memory, making possible -the exact reproduction of experiences of long ago. A good memory in this -sense contributes much toward a high degree of intelligence, but is not -identical with it. Even the feeble-minded are often found to possess an -astonishing capacity for retaining dates, poetry, music. But memory -adapts the thought processes only to very simple and frequently -recurring events. When the circumstances become complicated, it soon -proves inadequate. - -Imagine a servant sent on an errand. He finds it impossible to execute -the instructions received from his master. That ends it, if he is -deficient in intelligence. No instructions have been given for this -case; thus there is nothing to do but to return home. But the thought of -an intelligent servant is more comprehensive. He recalls his master’s -situation and analogous cases; the probable purpose of the master’s -order; other possibilities of realizing the same end. Thus he succeeds -perhaps in reconstructing the totality of the conditions which led his -master to send him, and in meeting these conditions. - -Take another example. Of several physicians, all but one are mistaken in -the diagnosis of a case. Why do they differ? Every disease is -characterized by a multitude of symptoms. Some of them are obvious, so -that no one can fail to notice them: the complaints of the patient. -Others are more hidden, but no less important. The physician must search -for them. Each symptom, for example, fever, lack of appetite, dizziness, -megalomania, may appear in very different diseases. A definite group of -symptoms in definite degrees of intensity is characteristic of a -particular disease. Two conditions, therefore, must be fulfilled to make -a correct diagnosis. The symptoms which are hidden must be called up by -those which are obvious, so that the physician can search for them and -determine whether they are present or absent; for without first thinking -of them he cannot search for them. Secondly, the thought of the present -and absent symptoms must reproduce the idea of the disease which is -characterized by the presence or absence of just these symptoms. This -reproduction is possible only in a mind in which all these ideas are -very closely connected, forming a well-organized system. Where this is -not the case, the less obvious symptoms cannot influence the decision, -and the correctness of the diagnosis becomes a matter of chance. - -Lack of intelligence, then, means a _deficiency in the organization of -ideas_, a lack of those manifold interconnections by which a large -number of ideas may enter into a unitary group--no matter how -_effectively_ each idea is associated with a small number of others, -that is, how excellent the person’s _memory_. Intelligence means -organization of ideas, manifold interconnection of all those ideas which -ought to enter into a unitary group, because of the natural relations of -the objective facts represented by them. The discovery of a physical law -in a multitude of phenomena apparently unrelated, the interpretation of -an historical event of which only a few details are directly known, are -examples of intelligent thought which takes into consideration -innumerable experiences neglected by the less intelligent mind. Neither -memory alone nor attention alone is the foundation of intelligence, but -a union of memory and attention. Energy of concentration must be -combined with breadth of interest. It is clear that thought determined -by both these conditions is more likely to agree with the enormously -complicated events in the external world than thought which is governed -mainly by one of them. - -How does human intelligence differ from that of animals? That man is -immeasurably superior to animals cannot be doubted. But human -superiority does not consist in the possession of a higher faculty--let -us call it reason--in no way dependent on the lower, animal faculties, -to which it is added as a jeweler’s tools might be added to a -blacksmith’s tools. The difference between the animal mind and the human -mind is simply this: that the imaginative anticipation of possible -experiences of the future is brought about in the human mind by means of -more abstract and therefore more comprehensive ideas than in the animal -mind. Man’s mind is by natural inheritance far more capable of forming -abstract ideas than is the mind of the highest animals. Man is further -immensely aided in abstract thought by language--his own -invention--which furnishes him with symbols taking the place of the most -complicated ideas, and because of their simplicity, effecting economy in -mental work as tools and machines do in manual labor. Animals, too, -possess symbols, cries; but their number is insignificant. The -difference between man and animals is therefore only one of degree in -properties which are common to both. But these degrees are indeed very -far apart in the scale. - - - QUESTIONS - - 160. How does coherent thought differ from dreaming? - - 161. How does coherent thought differ from mere recurrent thought? - - 162. What are the conditions on which coherent thought depends? - - 163. What is the significance of language for coherent thought? - - 164. What are the two sources of the idea of self? - - 165. What influence has language on the concept of the unity and - indivisibility of self? - - 166. What is the true concept of the unity of mind? - - 167. How does intelligence differ from memory? - - 168. How does the text describe “lack of intelligence”? - - 169. How does human intelligence differ from that of animals? - - -§ 18. BELIEF - -It seems, then, that all our knowledge is a mere adaptation to external -circumstances, that truth is entirely relative, being only a fitting -relation between the subject and his surroundings. But are there no -truths whose evidence is inherent in them? Are there no axioms which are -immediately evident? Is it not our task to derive all other truths from -these axioms by means of logical rules the correctness of which we are -obliged to admit? Or, if there are also secondary truths, which we -recognize as such only because they suit our experience, are not those -immediately evident truths a superior kind, preëminently worthy of the -name? For example, the logical, mathematical, and religious truths? - -Our previous discussion of truth and knowledge is indeed insufficient. -We called truth any mental state which is in harmony with objective -reality, no matter whether this relation of harmony is itself thought of -in the truth or not. But we may use the word _truth_, or _knowledge_, in -a subjective sense, meaning by it a complex mental state which -_includes the thought of its agreeing_ with objective reality; that is, -a state which includes the _belief_ of its objective counterpart. Most -people take it for granted that knowledge is mental activity which has -its objective counterpart. However, there are very many subjective -truths to which an objective reality cannot correspond. Christian, -Jewish, pagan, and philosophical martyrs have testified with their blood -to their faiths, which in certain respects contradict each other. They -must, therefore, have sacrificed their lives partly for something -objectively untrue. On the other hand, there are objective truths which -are not believed; for instance, theories which are rejected for some -time, but later prove to be right. - -We have seen how objectively correct thought originates. Let us now -consider the origin of thought which includes the thought of the -existence of its objective counterpart; that is, the origin of belief. - -An infant has no consciousness of either reality or unreality. He has -simply conscious states, without any such distinction. But he cannot -fail to learn the distinction. He is hungry. He cries. He becomes -conscious of reproduced former experiences of food and of the mother -bringing the food. And, indeed, the door opens, the mother enters with -the food, very similar to the imagined mother, and yet differing in -vividness, in permanence, in number of details. At a later time the -child imagines strange compositions: animals with legs both below and on -their backs, so that they can turn over and continue running when one -set of legs is tired; princes and princesses with golden crowns on their -heads; fairies carrying marvelous gifts in their hands. But nothing of -this kind appears with the vividness, permanence, and distinctness -characteristic of the mother entering the door. Human beings who appear -with a similar vividness, permanence, and distinctness, either are -bareheaded or wear plain-looking hats; and their gifts amount to but -little. When the child imagines the experience with his mother, he -recalls the substitution of the vivid and stable consciousness for the -feeble and fleeting image of the mother and the food. When he imagines -his dreams of princes and fairies, he recalls the substitution of those -vivid but homely mental states for less vivid but more beautiful ones. -When such experiences have been repeated hundreds of times, the child -begins to realize that there is a distinction of the greatest importance -between the two classes. He forms the abstract concepts of sensory -perception and of fancy--of consciousness of various sensory qualities -and characterized by indescribable vividness, permanence, and -distinctness; and on the other hand, of consciousness of various sensory -qualities and characterized by feebleness, fleetingness, and vagueness, -and in this respect flatly contradicted by the mental states of the -other kind. _In these abstract conceptions consists the consciousness of -reality and unreality._ Reality and unreality are not logical opposites, -but merely relative concepts. - -As soon as the ideas of reality and unreality are once formed, ample -opportunity is found for their application. They are applied also to -cases which do not belong to either of the extremes of vividness, -permanence, and distinctness, or feebleness, fleetingness, and -vagueness. Finally, they are applied by mere analogy to cases which do -not directly call for their application--as in a discussion of -historical truths. At this point another distinction is made. Trees with -leaves of silver are never presented to our sense organs. But the -elements which make up even the most contradictory compounds of fancy -have been known through the sense organs and become known again as -sensory impressions. Trees with a foliage of silver are not seen in -everyday life; but trees are seen, and leaf-like things of silver, too. -Even if all our ideational thought were fancy, its elements would tend -to make us conscious of the concept of reality rather than of unreality -because separately the elements have often been experienced with a high -degree of vividness, permanence, and distinctness. The opportunities for -thinking of reality are incomparably more numerous in human life than -those for thinking of unreality. We develop the habit of conceiving our -thoughts as real, unless there is a positive force compelling us to -accept the opposite concept. Thus we understand why the child, as soon -as he has formed these two concepts, is immensely credulous. - -Tell the child that the moon is going to drop from heaven, and he will -look up, expecting to see it fall. The child’s experience is limited. -There is but rarely a positive force tending to reproduce in his -consciousness the concept of unreality. Where there is no such force, -the child does not remain neutral, skeptical, but conceives his thought -as including objective reality. Language assists in this tendency, for -the first words acquired by the child mean objective realities, persons, -clothes, furniture, and so on. The frequent use of these words -strengthens the habit of thinking of things as realities. Of much -influence is also the use of the verb _to be_ as a mere copula and also -in the sense of _to exist_. The child is thus induced to regard a thing -as existing because it is thought _to be_ yellow, round, etc. That _to -be_ is used in this ambiguous manner in all languages seems to be -additional proof of what is historically certain, that the human race, -like the human child, has passed through a period of extreme credulity. -This racial credulity through the traditional usage of language -contributes now to the credulity of the individual. - -Gradually the child’s experience becomes more extensive and begins to -exert upon the multitude of original beliefs an influence which -sometimes continues all through life, although ultimately the progress -becomes very slow. Experience steadily encroaches upon the realm of -belief, driving it from ground which it previously occupied. It also -gives additional authority to belief, enabling it to hold more firmly -that to which previously it possessed but a doubtful title. - -Much that contradicts frequent experiences is taken out of the realm of -belief and called a fairy tale or a story. Trees with golden apples? -There is no such thing, the real apples assert--we are all mellow and -meaty, not hard as gold. A Santa Claus who distributes gifts to all the -children everywhere at the same time? Impossible, says everyday -experience. He who is here cannot also be yonder and in a thousand other -places. - -On the other hand, experience gives strength to the child’s belief. -Single matters of belief are connected mutually and with the absolute -basis of all knowledge, the sensory perceptions of the present. When I -am obliged to think, however briefly and vaguely, that as really as I -now see this paper and perceive the words printed on it, I was at that -particular time, previous to those and those events of the meantime, at -a certain place witnessing a certain act, my belief in the reality of -this event is unshakable. Whatever can be connected in this manner with -this fixed point, is itself fixed, placed beyond doubt. - -Why can I believe my dreams while I am dreaming them, but not after -waking up? Because consciousness is limited during sleep. There are _no -perceptions_ with their normal vividness, permanence, and distinctness, -with which the dream may be compared as to its reality. There are but -_few other ideas_ accompanied by a vivid idea of reality, with which the -dream may be compared. The dream has therefore the _maximum of reality_ -of all mental states present at that time in the mind. This is meant -when we _believe_ our dreams while we dream them. In a dream it may seem -real to be shot toward the moon in an immense shell in company with -other people, as in Jules Verne’s story. But in waking life this thought -is altogether devoid of reality. In comparison with the reality of my -present experience and of my ideas of the limits of engineering, of the -low temperature of interstellar space, and so on, that thought of a -journey in a shell immediately makes me conscious of the vivid idea of -unreality. I cannot believe that story. - -We call a verbal statement _proved_ as soon as the connection between it -and our present experience has been established in such a manner that -the idea of reality is aroused in our mind. The believing of that which -has been proved is called _knowing_. Belief is often used in a narrower -sense, excluding that which is known and including only that which does -not arouse either an idea of reality or an idea of unreality. Both -usages are justifiable, the narrower one and also the wider one. -Knowledge and belief are opposed as well as related. It is of much -practical importance to distinguish that which has been proved from that -which has not been proved. But it is also of practical importance to -distinguish that which is surely unreal from that which is merely -unproved. It is quite impossible in human life to prove every statement -before we permit it to affect our thought and our action. - -The chief thing which a man must have learned when he arrives at -maturity is this: that the number of facts to be believed is very much -smaller than he thought originally. The belief of childhood and youth is -subject to continuous losses. Something is, indeed, confirmed and -strengthened by growing experience; but it was believed before it was -known, and cannot properly be called an additional belief. Much that has -been believed for some time is recognized as unreal. That apparent -errors have to be recognized as truths happens much more rarely. -Experience makes a man more and more skeptical, cautious. This is of -great advantage to him in his adaptation to the world, and higher -institutions of learning to a large extent have their purpose in aiding -the young to develop cautious, critical habits of thinking. A student -goes to college not merely in order to cram himself with bare facts, but -to be trained in the habit of seeing men and things in the abundance of -their relations, of asking for their passports before granting them free -passage. - -Thus the original tendency to believe is gradually limited, more in one -individual, less in another. But it is never perfectly eradicated. This, -indeed, would not be advantageous. A limited tendency to believe is -indispensable. Two conditions contribute chiefly toward the retention of -a belief which can be neither proved nor disproved: authority and -personal needs. - -“He told us so” is reported to have been a common remark among the -disciples of Pythagoras. And to the present time disciples of any master -have not failed to quote their master. It is not even necessary to be a -master in order to be a prophet. A strong voice, significant -gesticulation, and impressive speech are sufficient to guide the belief -of the masses of the people. When everybody holds a certain belief and -gives expression to it, no member of the crowd can escape the influence -of the constant repetition of the thought. I cannot help believing what -my friends or my associates in a profession believe. Even if I begin to -reflect on the reasonableness of accepting as a truth what I have merely -often heard, I can hardly free myself of the belief. Is it not highly -improbable that all of them should have been led into error without -noticing it? On the consensus of everybody, philosophers have frequently -founded their highest doctrines. Cicero calls it the voice of nature. On -the other hand, narrow-minded people often attempt to fight a truth -which they dislike by pointing out partial disagreements among its -adherents. - -But the belief in statements which are neither proved nor disproved is -not always based on authority; that is, produced by emphatic and -often-repeated expression of these statements by the people among whom -we live. It is frequently the result of strong and deep-seated needs of -the human mind. As long as these needs make themselves felt, they call -up in the mind ideas of remedies and means in harmony with analogous -experiences; and unless these remedies and means are contradicted by -other experiences, they are believed. One may call this, in distinction -from the authoritative belief, practical or emotional belief. - -Every one believes in his own destiny. Every mother believes in her son. -Napoleon believed in his star. A general who doubts if he is going to -win the impending battle has already half lost it. Can he prove it, that -is, can he interpret what he sees and what is reported to him in such a -manner that the idea of his winning the battle cannot appear in his mind -without the idea of reality? He is probably very far from giving his -experiences such an interpretation. Of course, he will do his best in -order to make victory come his way. But his knowledge constantly informs -him that the outcome is dubious. Yet this knowledge does not keep him -from believing that it is not dubious. He cannot help believing it. His -whole existence depends on this belief. His honor, his future career, -his nation, all is lost unless he wins. The idea of loss is impossible. -It is inhibited by the idea of success, by that idea which alone can -give him the prudence and presence of mind that are needed. - -Or the mother who believes that her son will turn out a respectable man, -does she do it because of her experiences? Her experiences are perhaps -opposed to her belief; she believes, nevertheless. Circumstances were -unfavorable to her son, his father does not understand his real nature, -he merely enjoys his youth: thus she comforts herself. Experience is not -the foundation of her belief, but her belief interprets her experience. -The belief is founded on the fact that she needs it. The idea of a -wayward son would deprive her of the most valued part of her existence. -Therefore she cannot believe it. - -Misfortune of any kind has a marvelous belief-creating power, because it -constantly revives ideas of remedying the misfortune. “Whoever has lived -among people,” says Spinoza, “knows how full of wisdom they feel, -insulted if any one should offer any advice, as long as their affairs -are prosperous. But let misfortune overpower them, and they are willing -to ask any one’s advice, and to accept it, however senseless and -ill-considered it may be.” - -Experiential, authoritative, and practical belief differ according to -their sources, but they appear in life in various combinations. However, -one of three kinds can usually be found to be the chief component in a -system of conviction. That we cannot escape the authoritative belief is -plain. Who could repeat every observation made by others in order to -avoid the possibility of accepting erroneous reports? Practical belief -has different limits according to the amount of experience possessed by -each individual. And a whole class of people having about the same kind -and amount of experience may thus be distinguished from another class by -their practical beliefs. A practical belief of one, which is not shared -by another, is called by the latter a superstition. How much -superstitions differ and how much they change is well known. Recall, for -example, a superstitious means of improving one’s looks, of curing -diseases, of regaining a lost love. But wherever a superstition is -difficult to contradict because it is so stated as to concern only that -which is beyond experience (spiritualism), or when it is supported by a -famous name, it may successfully resist all attempts at overthrowing it. - -We saw that practical belief is not altogether independent of -experiential belief. Neither is the latter independent of the former. -When two theories agree equally well with experiential facts, we accept -the one that is simpler. Not because we know that it is nature’s -obligation to proceed in the simplest manner possible, and that -therefore the simpler theory is more likely to be correct; but because -our practical needs compel us to accept a simpler theory whenever we -can. We believe the Copernican theory of the solar system and reject the -Ptolemaic system. Not because one is more correct than the other; but -because the Copernican system combines the same objective fitness with -an immeasurably greater simplicity. The simple we desire; the simple, -therefore, we believe. A simple connection of a variety of things is -pleasant, beautiful. It is easy to survey it. It takes but a small -amount of mental energy to imagine it. Whenever our experiences leave us -a choice, we choose what is simpler. In other cases, too, practical -belief comes to the aid of experiential belief. In the border regions of -knowledge and within the blank spaces found within the field of -knowledge, belief must take the place of knowledge. - - - QUESTIONS - - 170. What is the difference between objectively correct thought and - belief? - - 171. What is the wider and what the narrower meaning of “belief”? - - 172. How do the ideas of reality and of unreality originate in the - child? - - 173. Why are we more inclined to apply the concept of reality than - that of unreality? - - 174. What is the double influence of experience on the child’s - belief? - - 175. Should authoritative belief be eradicated? Give reasons for - your answer. - - 176. Should practical belief be eradicated? Give reasons for your - answer. - - 177. What is a superstition? - - 178. Why do we believe the Copernican theory and reject the - Ptolemaic theory? - - -B. _Affection and Conduct_ - - -§ 19. COMPLICATIONS OF FEELING - - -1. _Feeling Dependent on Form and Content_ - -Perception and ideation rarely, if ever, occur in the isolation in which -they were shown above in order to make clear their structure: they are -accompanied by, interwoven with, feelings. A summer landscape not only -looks different from the same landscape when covered with snow, but also -arouses different feelings. I may look forward to the same event--an -ocean voyage or an automobile tour--as a danger or as a pleasure; I may -regard an assertion as a truth or as doubtful. The ideas of which I am -conscious surely differ much in the alternative cases. But still greater -is the difference of feeling to which we refer by such terms as _fear_, -_low spirits_, _disquietude_, _comfort_, _joy_. The exact make-up of -these complexes of feeling is difficult to describe, but we may try to -point out the conditions on which they depend. We shall first consider -form and content. - -Sensations, images, perceptions, and so on, give rise to feelings, not -only on account of what they are, but also and indeed chiefly because of -their manner of connection, of succession, and of spatial relation. -Colors which we regard as most beautiful separately may compose a carpet -whose color scheme we dislike and call inharmonious; on the other hand, -the most uninteresting gray dots may compose a beautiful design. A piece -of music is beautiful not alone because of the clearness of the single -tones, but chiefly because of the relations of these tones in melody, -harmony, and rhythm. - -One principle is generally applicable to this class of feelings: a -variety of mental contents is bound together into a unity for our -perception and imagination. A multitude of unconnected things is not -easily perceivable or thinkable; therefore it is unpleasant. A single -thing, so simple that it cannot be analyzed into component parts, cannot -occupy our mind for any length of time; it is tedious, unpleasant. A -combination of variety and unity is able to keep us mentally busy -without overburdening the mind; therefore it is pleasant. - -The general principle, however, admits of a great many different -applications. The unity may consist, for example, in the similarity and -regularity of arrangement of the pickets of a fence. The unity may -consist in subordination of a number of equal elements to a dominating -element, as the larger fence post taking the place of a picket at -regular intervals, or the accented element in a rhythm. The unity may -consist in organic unity of the elements of a living thing. It may be -logical unity, as in a sentence or a lecture. Several of these and other -kinds of unity may appear simultaneously in the same matter; and one of -these unities may be subordinate to another, this again to another, and -so on, as in a Gothic cathedral, a symphony, or a drama. - -Thus the variety and complication of the feelings based on the principle -in question is immensely great, depending on all these unities, their -harmonious relation or opposition, and the contents of impression or -imagination directly. This complication is further increased by the -conditions discussed below. - - -2. _Feeling Dependent on Association of Ideas_ - -Why does a sunny spring landscape give us pleasure? What is its -advantage over a gloomy winter landscape? Possibly green is a pleasanter -color than brown or gray, which predominate in the winter landscape. -Possibly the curved outlines of the trees in their foliage are more -beautiful than the naked branches appearing like a system of dark veins -on a gray sky. But these are hardly the main causes of the difference in -feeling, which are found rather in the different ideas associated with -the one and the other percept. The spring landscape reminds one of life, -warmth, travel, picnics; the winter scene suggests death and decay, -cold, moisture, overheated and ill-ventilated rooms. The feelings -aroused by these things when we actually experience them are likely to -be aroused now when these thoughts, however fleetingly, are reproduced. -For the same reason the cold sensation of touching a corpse is -accompanied by a feeling differing from that of touching a piece of ice. -It is a different thing to see a stream of blood or of cherry juice, and -in a lesser degree even of cherry juice or milk. In every case a -multitude of memories influence our feelings, or lead us directly into a -train of thought of pleasant or unpleasant character. Thus the feelings -which have their first origin in a simple percept may become exceedingly -complicated. - -An especially important consideration is that these feelings increase in -intensity and finally become more conspicuous than the memories by which -they are aroused. A house in which I experienced an unpleasant scene -finally arouses unpleasantness directly, without any mediation by the -consciousness of that event. This kind of transference of feeling is -particularly noticeable when the same feeling is aroused by many -different memories, quite unconnected among themselves, though attached -to the same percept. No better illustration of this law can be found -than the feelings accompanying the thought of money. From early -childhood all through life man learns that it is money and again money -on which the realization of his desires depends. A definite memory of -any of these special experiences soon becomes impossible because of the -competition among them. But the pleasantness originally aroused by them -is not lost. It attaches itself directly to money. In a similar manner -our love for our parents, our friends, our home, and so on, originates. -A reverent child may reject as a brutal theory the statement that he -loves his parents because of the innumerable benefits received from -them, that this love is but a kind of precipitation of all the pleasures -derived from the actions of his parents and from his living with them. -This rejection is in so far justified as the child’s love is not a -conscious deduction from the memory of benefits received. Nevertheless, -it is quite certain that his love is in some way naturally derived from -them. Children who are brought up by foster parents, if they are as well -taken care of as by real parents, love them equally well. - -We have pointed out that the idea of _I_ is almost omnipresent in our -thought, and that it constantly influences our feelings. To understand -this influence better, we may distinguish two relations between _I_ and -the rest of our thought, according as this or the _I_ is the predominant -part of our consciousness. The former case may be illustrated by our -perceiving the movements, gestures, and voice-sounds of a person or of -an animal as the expressions of conscious motives. Even into the -percepts of inorganic things the idea of _I_ is carried in a similar -manner. We speak of a bridge boldly swinging across the river, a -mountain rising proudly to the clouds, a beam resting heavily on -columns, lines crowding together or leaning against each other, tones -hiding before and seeking each other. We attribute contents of the _I_ -to the things which we perceive; we give them mental life, feeling, and -conduct, and experience in consequence further responses of our own life -of feeling. In such cases, the influence of the _I_ on our thought is -obvious, but it does not predominate. On the other hand, the idea of _I_ -may be predominant, but may receive its special coloring from the data -presented: as when I feel the tragic fate of a hero, not merely through -the sympathy or admiration which it arouses in me, but as my own pain; -when in the stress and striving of a Faust I feel my own dreams and -desires; when the precipice pulls me down or the towering rock uplifts -me. - -Since the idea of _I_ is so influential for our life of feeling, it is -to be expected that the opposite idea, the idea of the external _world_, -is also of considerable importance in this respect. Very often we refer -to a thing by merely emphasizing that it is opposed to, different from, -or independent of the _self_. We frequently speak of _the world and its -ways_, of _the course of the world_, meaning all its sense and nonsense, -its kindness and cruelty. Naturally, this idea of the world also gives -rise to many complicated feelings. - - -3. _Irradiation of Feeling_ - -We mentioned above that feeling is easily transferred from one percept -or idea--its _substratum_--to another one which is associated with the -first. A special form of this law of feeling may be called irradiation -of feeling. A disagreeable message received early in the morning may -spoil the whole day; the news of a great success may for some time give -to every other experience a joyful aspect. Not that the unpleasant or -pleasant event is constantly recalled. It is recalled now and then; and -the feeling may be more intense at these moments. But the feeling does -not depend on this recall. It attaches itself to any other substratum, -even to one which is scarcely in any way related to the first. I have -been vexed by an employee’s failure to carry out an order in the proper -way and by the resulting consequences. Now I am provoked to anger by -everything that happens, by a harmless question of a child, by the visit -of a friend who is ordinarily welcome, by the happy looks of a neighbor, -by the fly on the wall, not least by myself, being so stupid and so -deficient in self-control that I give room to all this unpleasantness. - -So many-sided are the complications of our life of feeling. The -contents, their mutual relations, their connections in the past, the -prevailing impressions of the present, all these are conditions on which -our feeling depends. - - - QUESTIONS - - 179. Illustrate the independence of form feeling and content - feeling. - - 180. Explain the pleasantness of unity in variety. - - 181. Give examples of unity in variety. - - 182. Illustrate feeling based on association of ideas. - - 183. What examples are given in the text of transference of - feeling? - - 184. What are the two relations between the _I_ and the rest of our - thought, important for our feeling? - - 185. What is irradiation of feeling? - - -§ 20. EMOTIONS - -Our preceding discussion shows that an exhaustive description of all our -complicated feelings is an enormous task. We cannot enter upon it here. -But certain classes of feelings may be described in more detail; namely, -emotions and moods. - -Those feelings which are based on associated ideas, and which rise at -once to great intensity, are called emotions. This definition is -somewhat deficient in so far as it is difficult to draw the line which -exactly separates great from small intensity and a quick from a slow -rise of intensity. Nevertheless, the stormy character of certain -feelings not directly attached to sensory stimulation is so conspicuous -that a special name is desirable. Anger, fright, distress, and hilarity -are such feelings: hilarity distinctly pleasant, fright and distress -equally unpleasant; anger also unpleasant, yet mixed sometimes with a -certain amount of pleasure. The feeling and the consciousness of its -cause are usually so intense in an emotion that there is little room for -coherent thought. The judgment of a person in a state of emotion is -narrow; his actions may be called shortsighted. - -Those feelings which become separated from their original perceptual or -ideational substratum and attach themselves to any other kind of -perception or ideation--no matter what feelings properly belong to -these--are called moods. They are usually, probably because of the -separation mentioned, of small intensity. But their duration is often -very extended. As typical examples may be mentioned grudge, worry, -dejection, and cheerfulness. - -Like all feelings, emotions and moods are in some way related to motor -activity. Of particular interest here are not the purposive movements, -which are by no means absent, but a large number of muscular activities -seemingly of little or no usefulness, resulting from inherited nervous -connections. In so far as these muscular activities become outwardly -noticeable they are called the expressions of the emotions or moods. The -angry man instinctively clinches his fist, the hilarious fellow dances -about. Laughing, weeping, wrinkling of the forehead, and blushing are -further expressions of this class. Contraction of the muscle fibers in -the skin causes goose flesh, or the hair to stand on end. Breathing -undergoes changes, becoming quicker or slower than normal. The blood -vessels expand or diminish in size through the activity of the muscle -fibers in their walls, causing the subject to look red or pale, to feel -warm or cold, and in the latter case to shiver. Secretion of saliva, -perspiration, and secretion of the lachrymal glands may result from the -changes in the circulation of the blood. Fatigue, nausea, lack of -appetite, and other symptoms of internal processes may occur. - -These phenomena were almost entirely neglected by the older psychology, -although their significance was understood by physicians. More recently -their psychological import has been recognized and even overestimated. -It has been said that these phenomena not only occur in emotions, but -_are_ the emotions; that the emotions consist in the organic sensations -resulting from these reflex muscular activities (theory of James and -Lange). We do not weep because we are sorry, but we are sorry because we -weep. We do not tremble because we fear a pistol held up before us, but -we are frightened because we tremble. Two arguments favor this view. Let -all bodily symptoms be gone, and the strongest emotion is gone too. -Anger without clinching the hand is no anger. While I am sitting calmly -on a chair, smiling, I cannot be angry. And further, when the bodily -symptoms are exactly imitated or produced by drugs or by nervous -disease, the emotion is there. Alcohol makes a person hilarious and -courageous without any perception of the kind which usually produces -this effect. Certain poisons or mania cause rage very much like that -produced by an insult. - -However, these facts do not prove that an emotion contains nothing else -than organic sensations. It is obvious that, according to the laws of -association, the contents of an emotion must be reproduced by those -organic sensations which were present innumerable times when that -emotion was present. The organic sensations resulting from poisons or -mania perhaps call up an idea of an insult, and the complete emotion of -anger naturally follows. Because of the firmly established associations, -it is also to be expected that the voluntary substitution of a different -set of organic sensations interferes with a present emotion. -Introspection makes it clear that an emotion contains much more than a -mere group of organic sensations. - -The instinctive motor activities characteristic of the various emotions -may be classified under two headings: excitation and depression. The -difference is especially noticeable in unpleasant emotions: anger is an -emotion of excitement; fear, as a rule, of depression. But this -distinction is not entirely absent in pleasant emotions. The joy of a -grateful memory is characterized, not indeed by depression, but by a -restfulness very distinct from the excited joy of expectation or the -delight at a present experience, although the pleasantness felt may be -of exactly the same degree of intensity. A careful analysis of these -motor activities must distinguish, not only excitement and depression, -but also their occurrence in either the skeletal or the involuntary -muscles, the muscles of the vascular system. Thus one may distinguish -four classes of emotions, as characterized chiefly by heightened -activity of the skeletal or of the vascular muscles, or by weakened -activity of the skeletal or of the vascular muscles. Symptoms resulting -from abnormal contraction or relaxation of the vascular muscles are, for -example, a person’s growing pallid, or blushing, and the corresponding -sensations of cold and warmth. - -Two other concepts relating to the emotional life deserve to be -mentioned, temperament and passion. Temperaments are inherited -tendencies of the life of feeling in special directions. Since ancient -times four have been distinguished: the sanguine, bilious (choleric), -melancholic (atrabilious), phlegmatic (lymphatic). The ancients held -that temperament is conditioned on the predominance of one of the four -humors, the blood, lymph, yellow bile, and black bile. This is of course -pure speculation of a prescientific period. But the distinction of the -four classes agrees well with common observation, although mixed forms -of temperament are more common than the pure types. People are either -optimistically or pessimistically inclined. The sanguine and the -phlegmatic are the optimists, the bilious and the melancholic the -pessimists. On the other hand, some people are excitable, impetuous, -others are not easily aroused. The sanguine and the bilious are quickly -excited, the melancholic and the phlegmatic are calm and sluggish. - -Passions are acquired dispositions toward special kinds of pleasant -experiences. We might say that they are foreseeing, voluntary emotions. -We speak of the passion of the gambler, the smoker, the collector, the -lover. One may also compare an emotion with an acute disease, a passion -with a chronic disease. Animals, too, possess emotions, as joy, fear, -and rage. But it seems that they are not sufficiently capable of -anticipating emotions to be said to possess passions. - - - QUESTIONS - - 186. How are emotions defined? - - 187. How does an emotion influence coherent thought? - - 188. How are moods defined? - - 189. Mention a number of moods and an equal number of emotions, - each comparable to one of the moods. - - 190. What four classes of motor activities characteristic of - emotions are distinguished in the text? - - 191. What motor activities are called expressions? - - 192. Give examples of expressions of emotion. - - 193. Give examples of motor activities which are not expressions of - emotion, but nevertheless of much significance for the subject’s - experience of an emotion. - - 194. What is temperament? - - 195. What is a passion? - - -§ 21. COMPLICATIONS OF WILLING - -We have shown in an earlier chapter how voluntary--that is, -foreseeing--actions develop out of instincts. Sensations result from the -instinctive action, are associated with those other impressions which -called forth the instinctive response, can then be reproduced by them, -and can themselves produce the action. When an action is thus foreseen, -it is called voluntary. Such simple voluntary actions are then combined -into complicated groups and chain-like progressions. The conscious -result of the first movement calls up the idea of a further movement, -its execution that of a third movement, and so on. Serial activities of -this kind often go on for a long time; for example, walking, eating, -dressing, writing, sewing, rowing. As experience of the relations -between the external things and practice in the performance advance, -such serial actions become more and more perfect in several respects. -Their conscious anticipation is more and more extended, so that they may -be adapted to very remote consequences, the occurrence of which is not -expected until days or weeks afterward. They are more and more refined -in that they adjust themselves accurately in direction, speed, and force -to the special circumstances of each case. They are performed in less -time and more economically; all detail movements which are either wrong -or merely superfluous come to be entirely omitted. - -That the conscious processes in voluntary movements tend toward -simplification has been mentioned in § 10. A whole series of movements, -which was originally performed by each movement being consciously -anticipated in order, is now performed without further consciousness as -soon as the series has once begun. One fact, however, is highly -interesting in this connection because it shows how the several -movements of the series are actually caused. Although consciousness of -all those anticipations of the movements is no longer required, the -physiological sensory functions must run their course in the normal -order or disturbances occur in the movement. This may be demonstrated in -an animal by cutting all the sensory nerves of a limb, but carefully -leaving all the motor nerves intact. The limb nevertheless appears -paralyzed. A similar case in man has been described by Strümpell. A -workman received a knife wound in the spinal cord. Complete recovery -occurred, with the exception that the right hand and lower arm remained -perfectly anesthetic: no kind of cutaneous or organic sensation was any -longer perceived. The muscles of the hand and arm functioned almost -normally. But movements, even very moderately complicated, could no -longer be performed unless the man saw his hand and its movement. The -illustration (figure 18) shows his behavior when requested to form a -ring with his thumb and index finger. He could do this fairly well when -permitted to look at his hand. Otherwise it was impossible, in spite of -his will and the muscular capacity to perform this action. We see, then, -that the peripheral impressions are necessary to bring about the several -partial movements in this case of acquired serial activity, although -these impressions have long ceased to become conscious whenever the act -is done. - -[Illustration: FIG. 18.--VISUAL AND KINESTHETIC CONTROL OF VOLUNTARY -ACTION: THE FORMER INTACT, THE LATTER LOST.] - -When we anticipate a final result of an extended series of movements, it -frequently happens that the movement which directly leads to that result -is, for one cause or other, not immediately possible. Imagine that a -person for the first time sees some one pulling a cork from a bottle, -pouring some of the contents into a glass, and inviting him to drink. -Seeing the bottle again calls up in his mind the idea of a delicious -beverage and the movement of drinking. But drinking is impossible, for -there is no glass, and the bottle is corked. In such a case the idea of -the result, which because of its importance is being kept constantly in -mind, unrolls the total series of ideas in the reverse order. It calls -up first the thoughts directly preceding the final result, then the -thoughts preceding these, and so on, until an idea is reached which can -be realized by a movement. In our example the person becomes conscious -of the idea of pulling the cork, of the corkscrew used for this purpose, -the place where the corkscrew was found hanging, the movements of -preparing it for the task, and a similar set of ideas for the glass; and -he thus becomes able to carry out the whole series of movements which -result in the taste of the beverage. - - - QUESTIONS - - 196. Give examples of serial activities of the foreseeing kind. - - 197. In what ways are activities of the kind just mentioned - perfected? - - 198. What is the relation of sensory activity, consciousness, and - performance in perfected serial movements? - - 199. Illustrate by a pathological case the relation just spoken of. - - 200. What rule is illustrated by the example in the text of pulling - a cork from a bottle? - - -§ 22. FREEDOM OF CONDUCT - -As experience of the connections, complications, and consequences of -things advances, the ideas called up by any impression must clearly -become very numerous. Ideas of near and remote, probable and improbable, -desirable and undesirable, consequences,--ideas of fit and unfit, direct -and indirect means of bringing about or preventing those -consequences,--ideas of difficulties and obstacles, facilities and -openings must tend to appear, to compete with each other, to disappear -and reappear in rapid succession, or merely to approach consciousness -ready to appear when their services should be needed. We refer to these -various mental states, according as they appear in one or another form -of connection, by such terms as _reflecting_, _considering_, _choosing_, -_desiring_, _rejecting_, _intending_, _deciding_, and many others, all -having in common the foreseeing of something to be experienced in the -future as the result of our action. - -What action occurs in each possible case depends on the relative force -of the factors coming into play. The actual sensory impression is as a -rule a rather insignificant factor. It sets free the ideas derived from -innumerable previous sensory impressions. The resulting action is then -nearly always extremely different from the instinctive reaction -belonging to the sensory stimulation. Such actions, resulting -essentially from factors _within_ the mind, not from external factors -which happen to impress the mind at the moment, are called _free_ -actions. Their freedom does not mean that they have no causation, that -they are free of causes, but they are free of the compulsion exerted by -the external stimuli of the moment. They are free actions as opposed to -instinctive actions, which are not free of these stimuli of the moment, -but on the contrary, completely determined by them. - -Scholastic philosophy--and popular thought, which is still largely under -the influence of that philosophy--recognizes still another kind of -freedom of the mind. It assumes that mind, under the impression of -perfectly definite external conditions and with perfectly definite -internal motives of thought and action, possesses the faculty of -deciding in favor of the action opposed to its own motives and of -enforcing this action. This faculty of an absolutely causeless willing -is assumed to be added to all the other external and internal factors -determining action or, as the case may be, suppressing action. Such a -faculty we cannot accept, since according to our most fundamental -conceptions _mind_ is not a being added to its experiences, but the -totality of its experiences, in so far as it knows itself; whereas it is -called _brain_ in so far as it is known by other minds. The arguments -brought forward in favor of a freedom of the will in the sense of a -possibility of causeless action are inacceptable to the psychologist -because they would make a psychological science impossible. -Nevertheless, it is worth while to discuss the more important ones -briefly. - -Three arguments are most commonly offered. First, immediate experience -tells us that, whenever we decide in favor of one action, we could have -decided differently. We were conscious of the possibility of acting -otherwise. The second and third arguments are of a practical nature. -According to the second, the idea of a uniformly effective causation of -our actions paralyzes our activity. If everything takes place by -necessity, the idea of influencing the physical world or human society -becomes meaningless. No one can believe in determination of our action -and at the same time make an effort to instruct and educate people to -act differently. Thirdly, no one can be held responsible for his actions -if he could not help performing them. If all actions are causally -determined, punishment becomes mere cruelty. - -The first argument fails because our immediate experience under no -conditions informs us exactly as to what caused and what did not cause -our actions. We have just seen that a serial movement cannot be carried -out unless constant sensory impressions are received from the progress -of the partial movements. Immediate experience gives us no information -about this necessity, which was entirely unsuspected until physiological -experiment and pathological observation revealed the fact. Immediate -experience tells a person who in his boarding house praises a very -ordinary dinner in exaggerated terms, that _he might have kept silent_ -as he usually does--he does not remember that the evening before when he -was in a state of hypnosis a suggestion was given to him to praise his -dinner the following day. Everybody else knows that he will, that he -must, do it. He alone thinks, on the basis of his immediate experience, -that it was an act of free will without causation. It was free, -uncaused, in the same sense in which the issue of a disease, the outcome -of a war, the weather, the crops, are free and uncaused; that is, _he -was ignorant of the cause_. - -Paralysis of activity is said to be the consequence of a belief in -universal causation. But surely the energetic and ambitious man is not -paralyzed by this belief. He feels that he is the tool used by nature to -shape the destinies of the world. How could a consciousness of his -importance in the causal connections of events paralyze his activity? -The idle and indolent may excuse his lack of activity by saying that it -is his nature to love inactivity, that he cannot help it. But who would -have any more respect for him on that account? Of course it is not his -belief in universal causation that makes him indolent. The lesson from -history is very significant in this respect, but it must not be read -one-sidedly. It is all right to point out that the fatalistic Islam is -losing piece after piece of its dominion. But the same fatalistic Islam -also conquered a world and for centuries kept all Europe in terror. Thus -it cannot be its fatalism that determined both its rise and its -downfall. In recent years, did the belief in predestination make the -Boers less energetic than the belief in freedom the orthodox Spaniards? - -We must say, then, that in general neither belief is of much practical -significance. But as a guide in special cases the belief in universal -causation is by far preferable. What can give more encouragement to the -educator than the conviction that his efforts will bear fruit in one way -or other because they must help to shape and direct his pupil’s -activities in later life? What can be more discouraging than the belief -that, whatever may be his efforts, they are just as likely to be lost on -his pupil as to be effective, since the latter has the faculty of -causelessly acting either in one way or in the opposite way? - -The third argument asserts that universal causation is incompatible with -responsibility. But what do we mean by responsibility? Nothing but the -fact that society, if it can do so, will punish its members for certain -deeds. Why should a belief in universal causation prevent society from -punishing its members? Bismarck writes in a letter to his sister: “It is -not the wolf’s fault that God has created him as he is. That does not -prevent us from killing him whenever we can.” Holding a person -responsible, punishing or rewarding him, does not lose its meaning if we -regard his actions as being determined by causes. We do not then hold -him responsible for the single act, but for his being so natured that -under such circumstances he cannot help committing such a deed. The -question becomes this: What is the more plausible reason for punishing a -person, his abnormal deed or his abnormal, unsocial nature which made -this deed possible? - -It is true that punishment dealt out by an individual or a small group -is often merely an instinctive act of revenge for a single deed. If a -person beats me, do I have less pain if I beat him and cause him pain -too? Should a gambler beat the roulette because it makes him lose and -the other man gain? Would the roulette act differently for having been -beaten? Am I sure that the person whose beating me was undetermined by -causes will treat me better the next time? If his actions are caused, he -probably will treat me better because the memory of the blows received -from me will act as a cause. The instinct of returning blows would be -incomprehensible if human action were independent of causes. - -But the legal punishment dealt out by the officers of a nation has lost -the significance of an instinctive act of revenge. Does this fact make -it compatible with the doctrine of causeless activity? Would not -punishment, under this doctrine, be cruelty pure and simple? Punishment -can be justified only if it can act as a cause determining human -behavior. Society introduces fear of threatened punishment and memory of -suffered punishment as motives into the mental life of its members, in -order to inhibit criminal actions in those who are so natured that they -will commit acts inimical to society when occasion offers, or when they -are tempted. The degree of the penalty is adapted to the effectiveness -of the temptation under different circumstances. Children and -intoxicated and insane persons are treated in a different manner because -the fundamental condition of punishment--the existence of an idea of -punishment capable of serving as a motive of action--is not fulfilled in -them. All this becomes entirely purposeless, meaningless, if we accept -the doctrine that human actions are not completely determined by causes. -Responsibility, social order, and law, far from being called in question -by determinism, are, on the contrary, dependent on it for their -justification. - -Indeterminism, the doctrine of causeless activity of the mind, of -freedom of a will which is regarded as an entity added to the contents -of the mind, is no better supported by these special arguments than by -general considerations. More than a hundred years ago Priestley said of -this doctrine: “There is no absurdity more glaring to my understanding.” - - - QUESTIONS - - 201. Give at least a dozen words all meaning the foreseeing of a - future experience resulting from action. - - 202. How are free actions defined? - - 203. What other name is mentioned in the text for unfree, - compulsory action, a name which has already been much used in a - previous chapter? - - 204. What are the three arguments mentioned in favor of the - assumption that causeless action is possible? - - 205. What do we learn from a post-hypnotic suggestion with respect - to the question of free will? - - 206. Give examples from history showing that both energy and - indolence are independent of theories about the will. - - 207. Can the belief in causeless activity be expected to contribute - to educational endeavor? Give reasons for your answer. - - 208. What is the aim of legal punishment? How is this aim related - to the doctrine of causeless activity? - - 209. Why are children not made subject to legal punishment? - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -HIGHEST ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS - - -§ 23. EVILS OF KNOWLEDGE - -Into the remotest distances, spatial and temporal, mind penetrates -through the accumulation and theoretical elaboration of experiences. -Knowledge may be obtained of the names and the deeds of Assyrian kings, -of the shape of the oceans and the continents thousands and hundreds of -thousands of years ago, of eclipses of the sun and the moon, of the -appearance of the starry sky for any number of years hence. Knowledge -means power. Insight into the relations of things enables the mind to -adapt itself more perfectly to them. Science and industrial development -are the results of this advancement of mental activity. - -Nevertheless, it is not exclusively happiness that is thus gained. So -complicated is mind that what contributes to its welfare and removes -obstacles to its well-being, at the same time creates new sources of -unhappiness, which call for new means, new methods, of relief. “La -prévoyance, la prévoyance,” complains Rousseau, “voilà la véritable -source de toutes nos misères.” We must make allowance for the -exaggeration necessary to make the desired impression; but even then -there is much truth in Rousseau’s words. Not all evils spring from -prescience, but a good many do. Three classes of unintended and -unpleasant effects of knowledge anticipating future events may be -described. - -As our knowledge expands we become more and more impressed with the -narrow limits placed on this expansion, with our insuperable impotence -in so many respects. To a child, who knows little and accomplishes -little, his inability, his helplessness, does not give much concern. It -is the prevalent, one may even say normal, condition of his life, and -therefore scarcely gives rise to unpleasant feelings. But the -experienced adult, in the full consciousness of his knowledge, of the -advantage which this gives to him, strives to know everything, to extend -his power over everything. And he is constrained to learn that he will -never come near this end. His prescience, the source of so much pleasant -feeling, becomes thus a source of immense unpleasantness. Highly -important relations of things remain in almost total darkness. Not even -the next day’s weather can be foretold, not the issue of the imminent -battle, not the bent of the woman he woos. How numerous are the things -against which he is almost powerless: human enemies, wild beasts, storm, -earthquake, fire, flood, famine, a host of diseases, and last of all the -inevitable death. He foresees all the terrors, aware of their power over -him. This must fill his life with anxiety and bitterness. “He whose eye -is so keen that he sees the dead in their graves, no longer sees the -flowers blooming.” - -Other evils have their sources, not directly in the mind’s foreseeing, -but in the limitations of foreseeing activity. The most fundamental aims -of human activity are self-preservation and the preservation of the -species. But our feelings indicate that a third class of activities are -essential for the completeness of human life, although their -contribution to self-preservation and to preservation of the race seems -to be limited. The aim of these activities perhaps is only a training of -our powers of attention, of unifying in consciousness a number of -impressions which indirectly might benefit the two aims first mentioned. -Even primitive man devotes a considerable part of his activity to the -production of these effects--esthetic impressions from colors, from -tones, from symmetry, from rhythm. He ties feathers into his hair, dyes -his clothes, and constructs his implements in symmetrical design without -being forced by their use to do this. He works rhythmically, either -himself or with others; he dances, thus uniting successive movements -into regularly repeated groups. But those activities which serve the -purpose of self-preservation and race-preservation directly, often -occupy his mental energies so exclusively that no time is left for the -exercise of these esthetic tendencies. Their suppression then results in -deeply felt unpleasantness. - -The activities of preservation are a source of evil in still another -way. Whatever pleasure they may give, they do not give a lasting peace. -As soon as one goal is reached, it appears as a mere stepping stone to a -further one. Why does the merchant earn money? In order to earn more -money! The fisherman’s wife in the fairy tale, who had been beggarly -poor all her life, did not enjoy the comfortable cottage given to her -for more than eight days. Then it appeared small and homely to her, and -she desired a castle. This obtained, it took only a day to have her wish -to be king. And immediately after the satisfaction of this desire, she -asked to be made emperor. It is true, not every one is always thus rent -by his cravings: the fairy tale places the sober husband at the side of -the greedy woman. But a ceaseless, insatiable longing seems to be, in -varying intensities, a normal element of human nature. When the -attainment of a further end appears clearly impossible, a quiet -enjoyment of one’s possessions may be the natural consequence; but even -then there is no lasting peace, for the tormenting experience of tedium -takes the place of unsatisfied longing. - -A third class of evils take their origin from the effects of foreseeing -activity, not only on the acting person, but chiefly on the other -members of society. The natural endowment of different individuals for -the struggle of preservation differs greatly and results in -corresponding differences of achievement. In small communities, for -instance in the family, the favorable results obtained by one are shared -by all. But as larger social groups are formed, this becomes impossible. -The results of the individual’s labor remain with him or at least within -a smaller circle. This is the origin of property. Certain members of the -social group not only procure more, but through the possession of -desirable things become able to hire others to work for them. This -enables them to increase still more the rate of accumulation of wealth. -Thus a chasm is opened between masters and servants. However, his nature -compels man to seek the companionship of other men, and this tends to -bridge over the chasm. But between one community and another community a -similar chasm remains. To steal from the members of another community, -to rob them by force, to make war upon them and carry off the plunder, -is the same as to rob an apple tree of its fruit or to kill a sheep. -Property thus obtained naturally passes into the hands of the masters, -increasing their own and their offspring’s powers. The final result is -the existence of enormous contrasts: blessedness of a few and -wretchedness of the multitude. The total balance is bad: there is more -evil in the world than good. - -Of course, those who have secured their masterships will say: Why should -it be otherwise? Why should a low level of development of human life in -all be preferable to a vastly higher development of a few and a still -lower one of all the rest? And those youths who are not yet masters, but -feel confident of being destined to become masters, readily applaud. -There are, however, at least two objections to this view. First, we must -remember that all human thought and feeling is determined by the laws of -association. The masters cannot help seeing the wretched condition of -the slaves, and must thus suffer themselves, although much less. This -interferes with the enjoyment of their privileged condition. But the -diminution of their happiness on this account may amount to little if -they avoid the sight of poverty whenever possible; and that part of it -which they cannot avoid seeing, they get accustomed to. - -The following objection is more serious. The slaves are not likely to -adopt the view of their masters that the contrast of their positions is -the natural and just outcome of their respective endowment with bodily -and mental abilities. They easily notice that this is only partly true. -Especially the rewarding of sons for the merits of their fathers or -grandfathers does not find favor with them. Their practical -belief--supported by the strongest desires and nourished by the -comparison of their own condition with that of the masters--keeps before -their minds ideas of improving their lot, even of becoming masters -themselves. The authoritative belief in the excellence of the present -status, in spite of generations having become accustomed to this status, -loses thus much of its force. The slave class is restless and little to -be relied on; therefore it must be bridled. The chasm between the -classes becomes an abyss. Coöperation between all the members of -society, though instinctively wished for and so necessary, is made -impossible. A whole nation is torn up; its resistance toward attack from -outside is diminished. The strongest people is one whose motto is: all -for one, each for all; sooner or later it will overthrow the other. If -this does not happen, the internal stress is likely at some time to -become too great: the slaves rise and sweep the masters away. In either -case the existing society is destroyed. - -Notwithstanding the happiness which our foreseeing activity gives us, it -carries with it three classes of evils: resulting from the limits of our -knowledge, from the limits to which our activity is subject, from the -contrast and enmity between social classes. Are there any ways for our -mind to overcome these evils? There are some, not absolutely -exterminating them, but at least restraining them, keeping them within -bounds. - - - QUESTIONS - - 210. What are the three evils originating from the evolution of the - foreseeing mind? - - 211. What are the two subdivisions of the limitation to which our - active tendencies are subject? - - 212. Why does the third class of these evils not exist in small - communities? - - 213. What are the two objections to the theory which regards the - division of society into masters and slaves as entirely - satisfactory? Which of these objections is the stronger one? - - -§ 24. RELIGION - -Aid against the evils resulting from the limits of knowledge is sought -by the human mind in religion. When fire threatens our property, we -think of water; when the enemy presses upon us in battle, we think of -our comrade. By analogy, when we are under the pressure of uncertainty, -in the terror of a great danger, we think of some person or some power -that might aid us. We have seen previously that primitive man regards -everything as animated and every event as caused by motives like his -own. He regards himself as a double being made up of a heavy body and an -exceedingly light, shadow-like thing, a soul. In his dreams he -recognizes clearly the independence of the two: the soul leaves the -body, flies to known and unknown regions, and experiences there the -strangest things. Likewise in death. To-day a certain person talks, -moves about, does good or harm; to-morrow the same person lies stiff. It -is true that one cannot see the cause of this change, but the simplest -explanation is obviously that something, the bearer of his powers, has -escaped from the body and now rests invisibly elsewhere. Furthermore, -are there not those who feel that they are possessed of a demon who -compels them to roll about on the ground in convulsions or to attack -other people? - -Accordingly, man populates everything between heaven and earth, animals -and plants, rocks and logs, lakes and streams, the phenomena of the -weather, and the constellations, with demons, ghosts, departed souls, -specters. These beings are thought of as possessing human-like powers, -many of them, however, far mightier than man, handling all those things -of which nature consists in a manner similar to man’s handling of his -own property. Some have asserted that man animates the world because of -an irrepressible desire for theoretical explanation. But this is -scarcely true. Primitive man has no such longing for theories. He does -it simply for the sake of his practical interests: in order to make use -of the things of nature, he must first comprehend them; and what manner -of comprehending them would be preferable to humanizing them? If the -things are like men of his acquaintance, he knows how to obtain their -favor, their aid. His belief in these demons is a practical belief like -the belief of a mother in the future of her son. These demons must -exist, for he would have to give up the struggle for life, perplexed, -helpless, if they did not exist--if the world were a mass of -incomprehensible objects. - -Naturally he distinguishes two kinds of demons, as he distinguishes two -kinds of men, good and bad. Those who are malicious and hostile bring -all the distress of diseases and terrible events, from which he cannot -defend himself by his own power. The best one can hope to obtain from -these demons is that they stop exerting their evil influence. Man lives -in constant fear of them. The demons of the other kind are friendly and -helpful. They assist man in his defense against the fiends and in his -fight with other men; and they permit him to participate in their -knowledge of the future. They are reliable. One is grateful to them and -loves them. In the most primitive stage of mankind fear prevails, and -therefore also the belief in harmful ghosts and demons. On a higher -level of culture, advancing insight into the causal relations of natural -events brings about more self-reliance, more hope, and consequently also -a growing belief in benevolent demons. Both fear and love, however, -remain characteristic of the attitude of man toward his gods. - -In order to obtain the good will of the gods, man naturally treats them -as he would treat his neighbors. He must earnestly pray to them, flatter -them, perhaps also threaten them, promise gifts in exchange for their -aid, vow continued faith and obedience, especially make them presents in -advance. Prayer, vows, and sacrifice are the means of approaching them. -Soon another thought becomes prevalent. In cases where the influence of -demons seems particularly conspicuous, in mental diseases, certain -persons show themselves much more skilful than the majority in -establishing relations with them and thus curing these diseases. One -naturally employs these persons in one’s relations to the gods. The -medicine man becomes a priest. And he soon establishes himself firmly in -this position by inventing mysterious ceremonies with which he alone is -familiar, and by acquiring the ability to read and interpret sacred -books. His authority, however, rests on his doing what the people expect -from their gods: he must possess prophecy and witchcraft. Even the -apostles prove their legitimacy by prophesying and performing miraculous -cures. - -Fear and misery are the parents of religion; and, although it is -propagated in the main through authority, it would long ago have become -extinct, if it were not born anew out of them all the time. In times of -need and oppression religion grows strong. The churches are full, -pilgrimages are common, in wars or epidemics. In battle, in disease, -aboard a sinking ship, many a one learns to pray. Some fear or some need -is always present. Even the highest wisdom and power can only repress, -never exterminate these. Therefore they have always brought forth -religion and will always do so, provided one does not clumsily attempt -to change human nature. - -Prayer and sacrifice are not invariably followed by success. But aid -requested from human beings also is often refused, so that explanations -for the lack of success are not wanting. Perhaps the prayer was not -fervent enough, the sacrifice not offered in the correct manner or at -the right place. Or the supplicant has offended the god; it is only to -be expected that he is thus punished for the offense. Or the god, -knowing his most secret failings, wishes to test his faith, his piety, -in case all worldly goods and even health are lost. The gods are -all-wise: who could understand them and their actions completely? Now -and then, when the pious continue to suffer and the godless to prosper, -religion is exposed to a serious danger. But religious faith has found -the solution of this problem, not everywhere on earth, but here and -there; and out of a secret doctrine of certain sects of ancient Greece -this solution has become a gospel spread all over the earth: even that -hope which remains unsatisfied at the time of death will find its -realization. Man’s soul is eternal, is only temporarily united with the -body, and when separated from it will continue to live forever. The -pious must prepare himself for the future life by turning away from -bodily pleasure toward God, by suffering. The godless, who has failed to -prepare himself, finds eternal punishment waiting for him. - -Under primitive cultural conditions, when everybody has to do every kind -of labor for himself, the same régime is applied to the gods. They do -not differ much in their abilities, although one can do this, the other -that, somewhat better. They are an unorganized crowd like mankind, -fighting each other and forming alliances for this purpose. When human -societies become established, the gods become differentiated. There are -masters and servants, various professions. Complications arising from -such occurrences as subjection of one nation to another and a consequent -assimilation of their religions, change but little the trend of this -development. Of greater influence are the growth of morality and the -advance of scientific knowledge. - -When man establishes a moral ideal for himself, he applies it to his -gods. His gods become moral examples. They no longer require bloody -sacrifices, but a clean heart and good deeds. And since there is only -one morality, and morality is the chief attribute of Deity, there can be -only one God. All those great religious teachers who contributed to the -moral development of religion, the Jewish prophets, Zoroaster, Plato, -accepted monotheism. - -When scientific knowledge advances, when more and more of the phenomena -of nature are found to obey simple laws, daring philosophers assert and -convince others that all natural phenomena obey such laws, that nothing -in nature depends on the whims of human-like wills. Religion, then, -seems to be deprived of its foundations. If God does not arbitrarily -interfere with the laws of nature, how can any aid come from him? -However, the need of religion remains, and religion adapts itself to the -new views of the world. The highest form of religion is the outcome of -this development. Prayer, then, has a purely mental value for him who -prays. It gives him hope, confidence, courage, and thus he succeeds in -accomplishing that of which he seemed incapable without aid. The -witchcraft of the priest is reduced to a purely mental influence. In the -sacrament he brings about a sanctification of the mind. God, far from -being lost from the world, is regarded as the world itself, the source -from which every phenomenon of nature springs. And again religion can -give man what he longs for, protection from the overpowering unknown, -peace for the restless heart. - -But life is like a hydra: as fast as one head is hewn off, two others -grow. Man overcomes the depression caused by his feeling of impotence by -the help of religion, and immediately has two other troubles besetting -him. - -(1) It is natural that of all the creations of mind religion possesses -the strongest inertia. God is unchangeable. But knowledge is changeable: -our ways of thinking of the world differ greatly from those of a -thousand, five hundred, or a hundred years ago. Much knowledge has -become attached to religion. Shall it remain unchanged on that account? -The resulting disharmony has been felt at all times, in varying degrees -of intensity. The representatives of science cannot help contradicting -the faith of their ancestors; and the priests profess that they alone -possess true knowledge, that the knowledge of the scientists is merely a -mass of hypotheses. Bitter was the struggle about the geocentric system, -and no less bitter more recently was the opposition to the theory of -evolution. During the later centuries of antiquity scientists tried to -comprehend the influence of the sun on plant life by conceiving its -power as emanating and yet constantly remaining in its former strength -at the point of its origin. The early Christian theologists were very -modern in their scientific theories. Could they compare God with -anything else better than with the heavenly body on which all earthly -life depends? So they developed the conception of emanations flowing -from God without diminishing his former powers, that is, the Christian -doctrine of the Trinity. Other religions of the time accepted similar -emanation doctrines: the Philonic philosophy recognized a twofoldness, -the Neo-Platonic a fourfoldness of God. To-day every schoolboy is -taught that the sun cannot produce any effect on earth without losing so -much of its energy. The ancient theory of emanations has long ceased to -have any scientific significance. But the formula exists, and is still -thought by many to be the basal concept of the Christian religion, so -that the dissension is endless. - -(2) Religion is a weapon in the struggle for preservation for him who -possesses it; but it soon becomes a weapon also for the others. It is a -weapon for the priest, who uses it as the physician uses his knowledge -to make a living. There would be little trouble on this account. But -religion is, naturally and unfortunately, a mighty weapon in the hands -of the masters defending their positions against the slaves. Religion -gives peace, quiescence, to the human heart. Religion perhaps teaches -that the splendor of wealth is insignificant, worthless; that the poor -are better off in the future, eternal life, than those who are now rich. -Religion perhaps even teaches that those who do not believe this will be -severely punished in the next life. This is not the original meaning of -the doctrine--that the wretched should remain wretched; it was meant -merely to comfort them in their distress. But the doctrine obviously -permits this application, and so the masters have always eagerly adopted -religion as one of their safest supports, far superior to brutal force, -since it does not incite revolutionary reaction. “Throne and altar” is a -motto of kings. When the servants recognize this effect of religion, -they naturally tend to free themselves of it, and tremendous conflicts -result for human life. - -Will mind succeed in overcoming these difficulties by a new form of -adaptation? We cannot tell how, since thus far it has not succeeded. - - - QUESTIONS - - 214. What does not, and what does, cause man to populate the whole - world with demons and specters? - - 215. What is the chief division applied by man to the hosts of - demons? Do the contents of these divisions tend to change - gradually? - - 216. How does priesthood originate? - - 217. Is it probable that religion will ever cease to exist? - - 218. What are the consequences of the fact that prayer and - sacrifice are not always successful? - - 219. How does the growth of morality influence religion? - - 220. Is science inimical to all religion or to special forms of - religion? - - 221. What are the three illustrations given in the text for the - difficulties arising from the attachment of science to religion? - - 222. What is illustrated in the text by the quotation “throne and - altar”? - - -§ 25. ART - -The second class of the evils which we mentioned as resulting from our -foreseeing activities consists in an insufficient occupation of the -active tendencies of the mind. The remedy is found in art, in the -enjoyment of works of art. - -A work of art may cause a pleasant feeling by inciting any of a large -number of mental activities. Beyond giving pleasure it has no purpose. -Choice articles of food, new clothes, a profession yielding a good -income, give us pleasure through their odor, their look, through the -standing they give us in good society. But they please us also, and -indeed chiefly, through their purposes: we need them for our existence. -Because of their purposes they do not give us pure pleasure: they make -us want better food, better clothes, a better position. A work of art, -on the other hand, may in some way further our life; but he who enjoys -it is not aware of such a furtherance. He sees no purpose in it. He -experiences a bliss of heaven, not pleasures of the world. The purpose -of art consists in its own unity; it does not draw us away from where we -are. It gives us rest while it keeps us active. The pleasure resulting -from this kind of activity is called esthetic pleasure. - -Many are the origins of art. Religion is doubtless one of them. -Primitive man conceived of some of the most important of his demons as -having their seats in certain species of animals. The possession of -these animals gives witchcraft. But it is difficult to carry them about, -and killing them is of course out of the question. Primitive reasoning -then accepted an image, a picture, as having about the same -effectiveness. So man came to carve such pictures on his weapons to make -them stronger, to carry them hung around his neck to protect him, to -make idols of his gods which he could visibly reward or punish. The -pleasure of seeing these images then gave them a value separate from -their religious applications. Yet pictures of the virgin and of saints -still continue to be used for the earlier purpose. When thus beginning -to be separated from religion, art became again attached to it; for man, -enjoying pictures, offered them as presents to his gods, so that they, -too, might enjoy them. The subject of representation was naturally the -gods themselves, the most sublime subject known to man. - -Another origin of art is play. We said that play is that mass of -instincts, common to man and animals, which brings about an exercise of -the capacities necessary for preservation at a time when no special -purposes demand such exercise. In this absence of a special purpose -consists the ultimate relation of play and art. But play is not -identical with art, because it is still too serious a matter. The boy -who plays robber and police is not like an actor playing the rôle of a -robber. He really is the robber so far as the advantages, the freedom, -and the power of a robber are concerned; and he enjoys these advantages, -while the actor does not even think of them. The actor, even while -playing the rôle of a king, desires to play the king, not to be the -king. Play, that is, the instinctive activity of play, is intermediate -between art and life, a gateway to the former. - -There are still further sources of art. After having been successful in -his struggle, when he has some leisure, man observes that many things -which he uses as weapons, as tools, for food, and so on, are capable of -giving him pleasure quite aside from their practical significance. He -therefore obtains these things for their own sake. He collects -brilliantly colored feathers, glittering stones and pearls. The -instinctive reactions upon pleasant experiences are discovered to be -pleasant themselves. They are voluntarily repeated. Thus dance and song -originate. In a similar manner, from the descriptions of ordinary life, -tales takes their origin. Symmetry and rhythm are discovered and become -of the greatest importance for the various arts. In spite of the -manifoldness of its origin and its application, we may speak of art in -the singular, because all the different arts have this in common, that -they give joy without serving any conscious purpose. - -In every art three factors may be distinguished on which the feeling -aroused in us depends: the subject-matter or content, the form, and the -personal significance. If the work of art is a picture, it may represent -a battle or a landscape; if a poem, the wanderings of Ulysses or the -story of the Erlking; if music, a waltz or a funeral march. This -subject-matter is given a particular form or structure. The twelve -disciples of the Last Supper may be placed in a simple row or arranged -in groups of various kinds. A church may be built in Roman or Gothic -style. Meter and rhyme differ in various poems. Music may be harmonized -in many different ways. All this refers to the form of art. The third -factor, the personal significance, may be illustrated by the different -moods which speak to us from pictures of the same subject-matter and -similar form, also by the technique chosen by the painter. The picture -may appear to me as an assembly of Jewish fishermen or as an historical -act in which the disciples of the Lord and he himself take part. - -Much could be said about all this in detail. Some important insight into -the relation of the different factors can be obtained from a discussion -of the first one, the subject-matter. How does the artist succeed in -giving us, through his subject-matter, pleasure independent of and free -from any consciousness of purpose? Two ways are open to him. The first -appears most clearly in music. It consists in using contents which play -no part in the world of needs. Musical tones, sung or produced by -instruments, do not contribute to the preservation of man; and therefore -they do not incite our desire. However, when properly combined, they are -capable of arousing the most varied and intense feelings, moods, -emotions. They are thus especially adapted to serve as material, as -contents, of a work of art. - -The second way open to the artist consists in imitation. It prevails in -painting and sculpture, and one may say also in poetry. The contents of -these arts, that is, the subjects described, are indeed things which -arouse our desires. But the desire is cut short through imitation. Not -the real things, but only descriptions of them, are furnished us. Their -affective value is not diminished thereby. It is true, the feelings -depending on the consciousness of purpose are lost; but the rest of the -feelings attain thus a purity and intensity all the greater. We scarcely -enjoy meeting a robber on the highway; on the stage or in a novel we -enjoy it the more. The real rug gives me feelings of a mixed kind when I -think of its price and its durability; the painted rug gives me only -pleasure. Since imitation is so conspicuous in the three arts of -painting, sculpture, and poetry, it has been mistaken to be the aim of -our artistic activity, whereas it is only a means to an end, to the -production of pleasure free from desire. To understand this still more -clearly, we must give attention to three aspects of the problem of -imitation. - -First, imitation must be as true to nature as possible. Feelings are to -be aroused. These feelings are originally attached to the real things. -It is clear, then, that they will be aroused the more readily, the more -similar the work of art is made to reality. A disagreement with nature -causes not merely a weakening of the pleasant feeling, but an unpleasant -feeling, a protest against the artist’s intentionally disforming nature -or against his incapacity. - -Secondly, imitation must never become a perfect duplicate of the real -thing, to be mistaken for it. There must be no deception of him who -enjoys the work of art, for deception would result in unpleasant -feelings. Therefore we separate a picture from its surroundings by a -frame, place a statue on a pedestal, let a drama be played on a stage. - -Thirdly, devotion to imitation must not lead the artist to neglect the -other properties of the work which make it significant for our life of -feeling. A work of art is always a compromise. Nature gives us not only -what is significant, but also what is insignificant or even disgusting. -The subject-matter must therefore be worked over; that which is of -positive value must be emphasized, even exaggerated. Nature usually -presents a confusing multitude of details. Mind, for its enjoyment, -needs a unitary structure made up of a multitude of details. The artist -therefore must, whenever this is necessary, reconstruct nature in order -to insure unity of perception. Imitation must often be adapted to -special circumstances. A lion among allegorical figures as a symbol of -might cannot be represented as an exact imitation of the lion of the -desert. The real lion is a dangerous beast, a big cat. The symbolical -lion must agree with a certain traditional style. Nature is replete with -the insignificant, the individual, the momentary; mind longs for the -significant, the general, the eternal. The highest art is found where -the artist has been able to reach a maximum of the total effect of all -the simultaneous factors. - -Religion would be more easily understood, were it not for the many forms -under which the single need is satisfied according to circumstances. -Art, too, would be more easily understood, if the factors contributing -toward the same end were less numerous. Each of them is regarded by some -as the essential or exclusive basis of art. It is not difficult to -explain this. The people at large naturally take most interest in the -subject-matter, perhaps also in the technical ability of the artist. The -musician, knowing that form is the main factor in his art, is apt to -generalize and to regard form everywhere as the essential element. The -painter or sculptor--observing how other artists give artistic values to -the most varied subjects, perhaps feeling himself able to raise any -subject, however selected, into the realm of art--may be inclined to -think of art as an institution for the employment of the creative energy -of those whose talents tend in this direction. Each one gives attention -to that aspect of the whole problem which especially concerns him. He -overlooks its other aspects. - -Not every species of art permits an equal development of all the -different factors of art in general. For example, in handicraft and in -architecture the work as a material thing serves a practical purpose; as -a work of art it serves esthetic enjoyment. The form is here largely -determined by its practical applicability. Its purpose must not be -hidden, but appear as clearly as possible. Mind must here force itself -to disregard the purpose and to enjoy the work independent of its -practical interests. - -When mind has thus been trained to look for esthetic values, even where -the practical side of the thing is paramount, it becomes able to enjoy -esthetically even that which in no way directly suggests an esthetic -attitude of the spectator. Man learns to enjoy the beauty of nature as -something independent of his practical needs. This ability has grown -very slowly. As late as the end of the eighteenth century one reads in a -book on Switzerland in a description of the Engelberg valley the -following words: “What do you see? Nothing but horrid mountains; no -gardens, no orchards, no wheat fields pleasing to the eye.” - -One thing assisting in this esthetic liberation of the mind is the -many-sidedness of nature in comparison with the practical interests of -man. Every one can find in nature something remote enough from his -everyday interests to become an object of esthetic enjoyment. We enjoy -reading about a war in the far East, not only because we recall that we -have no money invested there and nothing else to risk, but chiefly -because the feelings aroused by the reports from the theater of war can -develop without interference. They could not, if the battle took place -in a neighboring village. For the same reason we enjoy travel -esthetically, not when we are compelled to travel, but when we choose it -for our recreation. Standing in the market place of a foreign city, I -see the people talk, gesticulate, bargain, as they do in my own town. -And yet it is different. There are no relations to my own domestic -affairs. Their talking does not concern me. I do not even understand -their language. Thus I am able to enjoy the sight esthetically. It is -true that nature rarely fulfills all those conditions which the artist -fulfills in a work of art by his artistic reconstruction of the piece of -nature represented by him. But this loss of esthetic effectiveness is -compensated by the inexhaustible variety, the never ceasing movement, -the immense power and magnitude of nature. - -Thus mind turns against its own beginning. But not in order to make war -upon itself, but to overcome evils of former adaptations by a new and -higher kind of adaptation. - - - QUESTIONS - - 223. What property is common to works of art of every kind? - - 224. How does religion contribute to the growth of art? - - 225. How is play related to art? - - 226. What are the three factors in art on which our feelings - depend? - - 227. Which of the three factors is predominant in music? - - 228. What is the advantage of imitation over reality? - - 229. What are the three aspects of the artistic problem of - imitation? - - 230. What training does the mind receive from the enjoyment of - handicraft and architecture? - - 231. What kind of esthetic enjoyment has developed most recently? - - 232. How does nature assist man in the highest development of his - esthetic ability? - - -§ 26. MORALITY - -What remedy does mind discover for the third class of evils, those -resulting from its own activity for other members of society, and those -resulting from the restlessness, the protestation of the latter? The -remedy is essentially a social phenomenon, and can be discussed here -only very briefly with respect to the individual mind. - -Mind learns to appreciate and to train itself for activities -contributing directly to the welfare of society as a whole by actually -working for the good of others rather than for its own good. When the -social group increases in size, the more experienced and provident -members recognize, not by logical reasoning but as the immediate result -of experience, that brutally egotistic acts give rise to quarrel and -distrust, weaken the ties which hold together the members, and make the -group the prey of its enemies. Altruistic acts, on the other hand, are -found to strengthen the group. These influential members then endeavor -to further the latter and to suppress the former kind of actions. There -are two possible ways of bringing this about. - -First, compulsion. Acts destructive to society are punished. He who -commits them thus suffers a disadvantage much greater than the immediate -advantage, and the consciousness of this probability of suffering -inhibits the act. The total concept of activities or inactivities -enforced by punishment is the law. But the law is not far-reaching -enough. A society of wholly wicked beings cannot be held together by -law. Faith and loyalty cannot be enforced. - -Willing may consist in a consciousness of the immediate act or in a -consciousness of the remotest purpose to the realization of which this -act contributes. If in consequence of threatened punishment I will the -required act, but not its ultimate purpose, I can frustrate the latter -in a hundred different ways. To punishment, therefore, must be added a -second means of furthering the welfare of society, through actions of -free will. The performance of acts of this kind is called morality. - -The special form of morality anywhere at any time depends obviously on -many circumstances. It is conceivable that in a tribe sparingly endowed -with natural resources and pressed by enemies, morality may demand the -killing of the aged and of female children. On a higher level of culture -such actions must be immoral, because they do not harmonize with other -moral commandments, or because, when food is plentiful, an increase in -numbers is highly desirable. The Catholic church regards divorce as -immoral, but in Japan public opinion regards the enforced continuation -of the matrimonial tie as immoral. It is obvious that morality is a -growth. But it grows very slowly, remaining nearly constant for long -stretches of time; and so we often meet moral commandments which no -longer fit the people upon whom they are imposed. - -Kant has more strongly than any one else taken the opposite view. -Morality, according to him, is something definite, eternal, absolute, -not dependent on circumstances--categorical, as he calls it, not -hypothetical. How can this doctrine be reconciled with what we have said -above? - -We mentioned that actions benefiting the total social group are not the -result of reflection, of reasoning, but the immediate result of -experience on the part of the most provident and most influential -members of the group. Errors and superstitions naturally play their -part in the formation of the first moral rules. But subsequent -experience gradually improves them, so that they soon become of real -benefit to the whole society. How are these rules then transmitted to -following generations? By impressing them upon the child. Young children -can be given commandments; but explanations of their purpose would in -most cases be useless. They are therefore given categorically, as -imperatives supported by the authority of parents, elders, priests. -Under these circumstances, of course, it is not to be expected that the -children will later recall any purpose when they become conscious of -these rules. The rules appear in their consciousness as something -unconditional, absolute--in their totality as _conscience_. - -One may here raise this question: Why does not society, after its -children have grown into men and women, inform them of the purpose of -these rules? This information is not given partly because society as a -whole is not clearly conscious of the purpose, partly because it is -better to leave to these rules their absolute character. The commander -of an army does not explain the purpose of an order sent to an inferior -officer. This has its disadvantages in so far as the latter, knowing the -purpose, might improve details of the order which the commanding -officer, from his distant position, could not properly adjust to the -actual conditions. But on the whole it is preferable to require strict -adherence to the order and not to permit reflection before its -execution, for reflection might easily give room to thoughts of -self-preservation. Similarly, society demands absolute obedience because -thus, on the whole, the moral rules are more strictly carried out, with -greater benefit to society. Nevertheless, the rules have their -justification only in their purpose, the welfare of society. And -conflicts between the literal commandment and this purpose are by no -means rare. The white lie, for example, has given much trouble to moral -theorists. To the unbiased moral consciousness it is in innumerable -cases the proper act. What commander of an army could be tolerated who -would refuse to deceive the enemy? How could we meet children, the sick, -the insane, if we had made up our minds never to tell a lie? - -Understanding the value of the (apparent) absolutism of the moral rules, -we also understand why moral sentiment is so highly estimated as -compared with a mere number of correct acts. Moral sentiment is the only -reliable source of correct action. If we judge a person exclusively or -mainly by his success in correct activity, we are likely to discourage -his attempting a difficult task. In order to give the greatest possible -encouragement, we tell him that it is his free will to do good that -determines our estimation of his social value, no matter whether he -succeeds or not. However, the question whether a man’s will is to be -called good or bad, can be answered only by pointing out a social -purpose, the furtherance of the welfare of the whole. Without this the -will to do good, the feeling of duty, is like the rope by means of which -Münchhausen descended from the moon. - -The absolutism of morality explains the close relation of morality to -religion. Religion, morality, and sometimes political law, are under -God’s protection; the laws of reasoning and of artistic creation are -not. The latter are also gifts of God, but left unprotected. Error and -bad taste are no sins. Religion, if without direct protection by -threatened punishment, would be found by each individual; but each would -find a different one, and since only one religion is supposed to be the -true one, uniformity has to be enforced by threats. Morality still more -needs protection by threatened punishment coming from God, since -individual desires differ greatly, and would never give rise directly to -uniform moral rules. These rules are the product of the experience of -generations, and always meet with more or less resistance from the -individual. Human authority is frequently not strong enough to overcome -this resistance. So God’s protection is needed--and found very easily. -What can a father reply to his ever questioning child: Why must I give -away a part of what I like to keep myself, or tell what I shall be -punished for? He gives the same answer which he gives to the question -who made the horses and the whole world: “God made these rules.” Perhaps -it would be best if the child were always told that God did not impose -these rules upon man as something foreign to his nature, simply because -God capriciously chose to do so; but that he gave man these rules -because they are needed for the highest development of human life. Only -a will which acts morally because this significance of morality is -understood can be said to be truly free. - -We have frequently spoken of communities, of groups of human beings. -Now, man belongs to many communities at the same time: family, town, -state, nation, friends, the profession, the denomination, and so on, up -to mankind as a whole; which one is meant? They are all meant, but so -that in case one obligation excludes another, the one toward the -narrower circle of associates takes precedence. We do not approve of -women devoting to charity what they owe to their children. But where the -narrower circle leaves us free from obligation, the wider circle claims -us as its subjects. One of these circles, the widest of all, is -mankind; but morality did not begin with recognizing this. Only those -are permitted to enjoy the benefits of one’s morality who are clearly -felt to belong to the same community. The expansion of political, -linguistic, religious communities enormously increases the number of -individuals toward whom each one feels moral obligations. - -But this expansion alone would not have broken down the barrier between -one and all the rest of mankind. This barrier has been removed by the -acceptance of monotheism. Other factors may have contributed toward this -result. The categorical character of the moral rules, their independence -of conditions, must have favored their universal application to any -human being. The development of the idea that all human beings are -essentially alike, and of the idea of the unity of the world, must have -greatly strengthened the universality of the moral rules. The -development of the moral ideal, as we saw, tended to unify the -conception of God. But this conception of a single God, monotheism, then -gave a new impulse to the universal application of the moral rules. When -each people has its own god, his commandments are valid only to his own -people. But when it is recognized that only one God exists, his -commandments can hardly be confined to the territory of one people. -Plato and Zeno, accepting this consequence, teaching that human beings -are like the members of one flock, introduced a doctrine new to the -Greeks. Christ, reciting the Mosaic law, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor, -and hate thine enemy,” adds to it: “But I say unto you, love your -enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you,” and -thus takes the decisive step. But mankind is still far from having -accepted this doctrine completely. To plunder private property on the -high seas in time of war is no longer regarded as meritorious, but -scarcely begins to cast shame on him who makes himself guilty of it, as -plundering on land does. - - - QUESTIONS - - 233. Why is acting by free will superior to willing under - compulsion? - - 234. What philosopher is mentioned in the text as the chief - opponent to the doctrine that morality is a growth dependent on - circumstances? - - 235. How and by whom were moral rules first discovered? - - 236. How are moral rules propagated? What is the consequence of - this mode of propagation? - - 237. What two reasons are stated for the fact that society does not - inform its members of the real purpose of the moral rules? - - 238. Why is moral sentiment valued more highly than correct acts? - - 239. How is the relation between morality and religion established? - - 240. What is the influence of monotheism on the growth of morality? - - - - -CONCLUSION - - -What a strange being is man according to popular understanding! He -possesses senses intended to inform him of the world, but incapable of -doing this since they deceive him. In addition he has judgment and -reason which help him to discover the deceptions of his senses and to -gain a true knowledge of the world by the aid of principles whose origin -is foreign to this world. His thoughts consist of ideas which succeed -each other in accordance with definite laws. Nevertheless, he sits -within himself, the _homunculus_ in the _homo_, and with perfect -contempt for those laws directs the ideas, weakens this, strengthens -that, keeps one and expels the other, unites them and separates them -with despotic arbitrariness. His chief desire is furtherance of his -well-being. Nevertheless, he strives to aid others, to be fair and just, -to mortify the flesh. He unceasingly strives to make himself the lord of -the world. Still he has a constant craving for being the subject of an -omnipotent power; and to satisfy this craving God has given him the -belief in Divinity. But God, from whom everything springs, has given him -also a punishable inclination toward heresies and confused him by the -contradictions of a hundred different revelations, each one claiming its -own genuineness. Man’s whole being appears mixed up. No second step is -possible without reversing the first. No definite purpose can be made -out in all this. - -Yet man becomes comprehensible as soon as we apply scientific methods to -the study of his nature. He has indeed numerous faculties, seeing and -hearing, imagination and feeling, reproduction and concentration. These, -however, do not oppose each other, but stand side by side, supplementing -each other, as everything on earth consists of parts which supplement -each other. The fundamental laws of human life are the same as those -which we find in the higher animals. But man’s ability to elaborate -momentary sense impressions is immensely increased: there is no limit to -the associative and selective combination of the elementary impressions. -Thus man establishes his power over all other animals and the inanimate -world, realizing the general purposes common to all organisms by -incomparably higher and richer constructions. But these, however we -esteem them, are derived from the same fundamental forces of nature, -only differing in measure and in their proportions. Mind is not like an -unclean pot in which noble seeds are planted, so that the plants -growing from them do not fit the vessel containing them and unending -discord must result. Mind is a unitary organism which, unfolding its -capacities, adjusts itself more and more perfectly to the circumstances -of chance or of its own creation. As the same atmosphere brings forth -out of wind and water and warmth now fertile rains, now destructive hail -storms, beautiful clouds above, dangerous fog below, so the same mind by -the same natural laws brings forth error and truth, desireful pleasure -and desireless joy, selfishness and morality. - - - - -INDEX - - -Abstraction, 126, 133, 140, 151. - -Adaptation, 74. - -Affection, 162. - -Afferent, 35, 38. - -After-image, 74. - -Anemia, 27. - -Animals, 27, 37, 65, 75, 128, 151, 197. - -Apes, 27. - -Apperception, 119. - -Arborization, 33. - -Architecture, 202. - -Aristotle, 3, 10, 17. - -Art, 14, 24, 196. - -Association, 10, 11, 12, 14, 93, 144, 164. - -Attention, 11, 12, 87, 115, 121, 125, 144, 151. - -Audition, 74, 76. - -Auditory, 62, 98. - -Automatic, 101. - -Axiom, 152. - - -Beats, 64. - -Beethoven, 14. - -Belief, 152, 156, 158. - -Bessel, 20. - -Biology, 16. - -Bismarck, 180. - -Blind born, 67. - -Boycott, 136. - -Brain, 21, 22, 23, 27, 28. - -Brewster, 17. - -Broca, 21. - -Buffon, 11. - -Bulb, 38. - - -Cæsar, 136. - -Catholic church, 205. - -Causality, 5, 7, 8, 9, 177. - -Center, 35, 36, 37, 107, 111. - -Cerebellum, 38, 39. - -Cerebrum, 38, 41. - -Christ, 209. - -Cicero, 159. - -Coherent thought, 142. - -Collateral, 32. - -Color, 58. - -Color-blind, 60, 76. - -Color mixture, 61. - -Conduct, 162, 176. - -Conscience, 206. - -Consciousness, 41. - -Conservation of energy, 45. - -Copernican system, 161. - -Cortex, 38, 40, 41. - -Corti, 76. - -Crime, 97. - -Cutaneous, 52, 73. - - -Davy, 121. - -Definition, 141. - -Dendrite, 31. - -Desire, 109. - -Determinism, 181. - -Difference tone, 64. - -Discrimination, 100. - -Distance, 116. - -Dream, 142, 156. - -Drugs, 27. - -Duration, 68. - - -Education, 24, 97. - -Efferent, 35, 38. - -Emotion, 168. - -Enlightenment, 11. - -Esthetics, 14, 185, 197, 202. - -Evolution, 5, 16. - -Experiment, 17. - -Expression, 105, 169. - - -Faculties, 10, 11, 13, 22, 124, 151. - -Falstaff, 123. - -Fatalism, 179. - -Fatigue, 102. - -Fechner, 18, 19. - -Feeling, 81, 162. - -Fibril, 32. - -Fichte, 15. - -France, 10. - -Frederick William, 1, 5. - -Freedom, 7, 8, 9, 176, 208. - -Fritsch, 21. - -Future life, 192, 195. - - -Galileo, 10. - -Gall, 29. - -Ganglion cell, 30, 32, 38, 80. - -Generalization, 126, 128, 134. - -Goethe, 14, 62. - -Gray matter, 33, 39. - -Greece, 192. - -Greenwich, 20. - - -Hallucination, 79. - -Handicraft, 202. - -Harmony, 68. - -Helmholtz, 17, 76. - -Heraclitus, 3. - -Herbart, 12, 13, 14, 18, 19. - -Herod, 137. - -Hitzig, 21. - -Hobbes, 8, 9, 10, 17. - -Hume, 10. - -Hypnosis, 179. - -Hysteria, 29. - - -Ideation, 123. - -Illusion, 120. - -Imagery, 98, 128. - -Imagination, 78, 115, 124, 151. - -Imitation, 130, 132, 199. - -Indeterminism, 181. - -Insane, 143. - -Instinct, 85, 91, 101, 107, 109, 110, 130, 171, 173, 180, 197. - -Intelligence, 27, 148. - -Interest, 89. - - -James, 170. - -Japan, 205. - -Jewish prophets, 193. - -Judgment, 142. - - -Kant, 13, 15, 205. - -Kinesthetic, 51, 52, 67, 86, 91, 98, 108, 117, 129, 131, 145, 174. - -Kinnebrook, 20. - -Knowledge, 152, 157, 184, 189. - - -Labyrinth, 54. - -Lange, 170. - -Language, 3, 24, 109, 128, 144, 147, 151, 155. - -Latent idea, 81. - -Laughing, 105. - -Law, 24. - -Leibniz, 8. - -Linnæus, 11. - -Literature, 139. - -Localization of function, 41, 42, 44. - -Lotze, 19. - - -Machine, 15. - -Maskelyne, 20. - -Mathematics, 13. - -Medulla, 38. - -Melody, 68. - -Memory, 92, 123, 144, 149, 150. - -Metaphor, 137. - -Metonymy, 137. - -Middle Ages, 7. - -Mind, 47. - -Money, 165. - -Monotheism, 193, 209. - -Mood, 169. - -Morality, 193, 204. - -Mosaic law, 209. - -Motor point, 34. - -Movement, 105, 108. - -Müller, Johannes, 17. - -Münchhausen, 207. - -Music, 199. - - -Napoleon, 159. - -Natural science, 6, 8, 9, 16. - -Neo-Platonic philosophy, 194. - -Nerve anatomy, 38. - -Nerve center, 35, 36, 37, 107, 111. - -Nervous architecture, 34. - -Nervous process, 33. - -Nervous system, 27, 28, 36. - -Neuron, 30, 81. - -Newton, 10. - -Noise, 62. - - -Odor, 57. - -Organic sensation, 56, 170, 174. - -Otolith, 54, 55, 65. - - -Pain, 53. - -Painting, 200. - -Passion, 172. - -Pathology, 22, 117, 143, 174. - -Perception, 105, 114, 119. - -Personal equation, 20. - -Perspective, 116. - -Philonic philosophy, 194. - -Philosophy, 18, 19, 23, 24. - -Phrenology, 29, 42. - -Physiology, 16, 17, 19, 21, 22. - -Plato, 10, 193, 209. - -Play, 106, 197. - -Pleasantness, 82, 106. - -Poetry, 200. - -Practice, 99, 126. - -Prayer, 191, 192, 193. - -Predestination, 179. - -Priesthood, 191, 195. - -Priestley, 182. - -Property, 186. - -Psychiatry, 23, 24, 28, 143. - -Psychophysics, 19, 23, 24, 28, 143. - -Ptolemaic system, 161. - -Pythagoras, 158. - - -Quantitative, 13, 17. - - -Range of perceptibility, 70. - -Reality, 153. - -Reason, 142. - -Reflex, 86, 107, 110, 170. - -Reflex arch, 36, 38, 107. - -Religion, 14, 24, 189, 197, 207, 209. - -Reproduction, 93, 125. - -Responsibility, 180. - -Retina, 73, 75. - -Rousseau, 15, 183. - - -St. Luke, 137. - -Schelling, 18. - -Schopenhauer, 15. - -Science and religion, 194. - -Sculpture, 200. - -Seat of the soul, 29, 41. - -Self, 145, 166. - -Semicircular canals, 54, 55, 65. - -Sensation, 50, 65. - -Sensationalism, 10. - -Sensitiveness, 69, 73. - -Sensory point, 34. - -Set of the mind, 94, 123. - -Slang, 138. - -Social classes, 186. - -Space, 65. - -Spatial, 67. - -Speech, 109, 130, 139. - -Spinal cord, 38. - -Spinoza, 8, 160. - -Stimulus, 69. - -Strümpell, 174. - -Succession, 68. - -Superstition, 161. - -Switzerland, 202. - - -Taste, 57. - -Temperament, 172. - -Temporal, 68. - -Tetens, 11. - -Theology, 194. - -Thought, 108. - -Threshold, 100. - -Time, 65. - -Tone, 62. - -Trinity, 194. - -Truth, 152. - -Types of imagery, 98. - - -Unity in variety, 68, 164. - -Unpleasantness, 53, 82, 106. - - -Vision, 74, 75. - -Visual, 58, 73, 98. - -Voluntarism, 15. - -Voluntary, 109, 171. - - -Weber, E. H., 17, 18. - -Weber’s law, 18, 71. - -White matter, 33. - -Will, 87, 91. - -Willing, 85, 173. - -World, 145, 167. - -Wundt, 23. - -Zeno, 209. - -Zoroaster, 193. - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -first conciousness accompanies=> first consciousness accompanies {pg 86} - -A sub-script is treated like this in the text: s_{1} - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Psychology, by Hermann Ebbinghaus - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHOLOGY *** - -***** This file should be named 52823-0.txt or 52823-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/8/2/52823/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Psychology - an elementary text-book - -Author: Hermann Ebbinghaus - -Translator: Max Friedrich Meyer - -Release Date: August 16, 2016 [EBook #52823] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHOLOGY *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="304" height="500" alt="" title="" /> -</div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td> - -<p class="c"> -<a href="#CONTENTS">Contents</a><br /> - -<a href="#INDEX">Index</a>: <a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#Q">Q</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Z">Z</a></p> - -<p class="c">A typographical error was corrected; -<a href="#transcrib">specifics follow the text</a>.</p> - -<p class="c"><a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS">Illustrations</a><br /> <span class="nonvis">(In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] -clicking on the image will bring up a larger version.)</span></p> - -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> - -<h1>PSYCHOLOGY</h1> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i"></a>{i}</span></p> - -<p class="c">AN ELEMENTARY TEXT-BOOK<br /><br /> -BY<br /> -HERMANN EBBINGHAUS<br /> -<small>PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF HALLE; AUTHOR OF<br /> -“ÜBER DAS GEDÄCHTNIS,” “GRUNDZÜGE DER PSYCHOLOGIE,” ETC.;<br /> -EDITOR OF THE “ZEITSCHRIFT FÜR PSYCHOLOGIE”</small><br /><br /> - -TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY<br /> - -MAX MEYER<br /> - -<small>PROFESSOR OF EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY<br /> -IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI</small><br /><br /> - -BOSTON, U.S.A.<br /> - -D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS<br /> -<br /> -1908<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii"></a>{ii}</span> -<small><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1908,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By D. C. Heath & Co.</span></small> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii"></a>{iii}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TRANSLATORS_PREFACE" id="TRANSLATORS_PREFACE"></a>TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> present book is a free translation of Ebbinghaus’s “Abriss der -Psychologie” (Veit & Co., Leipzig, 1908). It is intended primarily to -serve as a text-book for college students, but it should appeal also to -the general reader. It will commend itself through its brevity and the -excellent proportions of the material selected. The translator became -interested in this book because of the fact that the author has -succeeded in keeping entirely free of all fads, and has presented only -that which is generally accepted by psychological science; on the other -hand, he has given to the highest constructive processes of the human -mind, religion, art, and morality, the attention which they deserve -because of their tremendous importance for human life.</p> - -<p>In some places the original text has been somewhat condensed, -particularly in the description of the anatomy of the nervous system in -section 2. Section 4 of the original has been omitted, since its -contents seemed to be sufficiently emphasized in the other sections of -the book. The numbers of the following sections differ, therefore, from -those of the German text. The translator regards this as insignificant, -since his intention is not to aid his brother-psychologists in making -themselves acquainted with Ebbinghaus’s views,—for this end they are -referred to the German original,—but to furnish an elementary text-book -for the English-speaking student. Wherever there was any doubt as to the -comprehensibility to the American student of any application or -illustration of the laws discussed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv"></a>{iv}</span> the author, the translator has -unhesitatingly sacrificed the interest of the professional psychologist -to that of the beginner-student. In a few places he has made slight -additions to the original; for instance, figures 7, 8, and 9 are his own -property. But he has decided to abstain from enumerating all changes, -since this would be of interest only to the professional psychologist. -In no case are his additions opposed to the author’s views.</p> - -<p>The questions added to each section are not exercises to be worked out -by the student or puzzles to be solved by the general reader. They are -intended to serve as an aid to the intelligent perusal of the book, by -directing the reader’s attention to the essential contents of each -section.</p> - -<p class="r"> -M. M.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v"></a>{v}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td class="c" colspan="2"> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap">A Sketch of the History of Psychology</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_3">3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"> -CHAPTER I<br /> - -GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_1">1</a>. <span class="smcap">Brain and Mind</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_27">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_2">2</a>. <span class="smcap">The Nervous System</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_1-1">1.</a> The Elements of the Nervous System</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_2-1">2.</a> The Architecture of the Nervous System</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_3-1">3.</a> The Anatomy of the Nervous System</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_4-1">4.</a> The Nervous System and Consciousness</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_3">3</a>. <span class="smcap">Explanation of the Functional Relation between Brain and Mind</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_43">43</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_1-2">1.</a> The Brain a Tool of the Mind</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_2-2">2.</a> The Brain an Objectified Conception of the Mind</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_47">47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br /> - -THE SPECIAL FACTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS</a><br /> - -<a href="#A_II"><i>A.</i> <i>The Elements of Mental Life</i></a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_4">4</a>. <span class="smcap">Sensation</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_1-3">1.</a> The Newly Discovered Kinds of Sensation</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_2-3">2.</a> The Other Sensations</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_3-3">3.</a> Temporal and Spatial Attributes</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_65">65</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_4-3">4.</a> Sensation and Stimulus</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_69">69</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_5">5</a>. <span class="smcap">Imagination</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_78">78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_6">6</a>. <span class="smcap">Feeling</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_81">81</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_7">7</a>. <span class="smcap">Willing</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vi" id="page_vi"></a>{vi}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_85">85</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th colspan="2" class="c"><a href="#B_II"><i>B. The Fundamental Laws of Mental Life</i></a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_8">8</a>. <span class="smcap">Attention</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_9">9</a>. <span class="smcap">Memory</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_93">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_10">10</a>. <span class="smcap">Practice</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_99">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_11">11</a>. <span class="smcap">Fatigue</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th colspan="2" class="c"><a href="#C_II"><i>C. The Expressions of Mental Life</i></a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_12">12</a>. <span class="smcap">Perception and Movement</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_105">105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_13">13</a>. <span class="smcap">Thought and Movement</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_108">108</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br /> - -COMPLICATIONS OF MENTAL LIFE</a><br /> - -<a href="#A_III"><i>A. The Intellect</i></a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_14">14</a>. <span class="smcap">Perception</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_114">114</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_1-4">1.</a> Characteristics of Perception</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_114">114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_2-4">2.</a> Illusions</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_15">15</a>. <span class="smcap">Ideation</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_16">16</a>. <span class="smcap">Language</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_128">128</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_1-5">1.</a> Word Imagery</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_128">128</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_2-5">2.</a> The Acquisition of Speech</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_3-5">3.</a> The Growth of Language</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_135">135</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_4-5">4.</a> The Significance of Language</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_17">17</a>. <span class="smcap">Judgment and Reason</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_142">142</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_1-6">1.</a> Coherent Thought</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_142">142</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_2-6">2.</a> The Self and the World</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_145">145</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_3-6">3.</a> Intelligence</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_148">148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_18">18</a>. <span class="smcap">Belief</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_152">152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#B_III"><i>B. Affection and Conduct</i></a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_19">19</a>. <span class="smcap">Complications of Feeling</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_1-7">1.</a> Feeling Dependent on Form and Content</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_2-7">2.</a> Feeling Dependent on Association of Ideas</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_164">164</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"> <a href="#sbhed_3-7">3.</a> Irradiation of Feeling</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_167">167</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_20">20</a>. <span class="smcap">Emotions</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_168">168</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_21">21</a>. <span class="smcap">Complications of Willing</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_173">173</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_22">22</a>. <span class="smcap">Freedom of Conduct</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vii" id="page_vii"></a>{vii}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_176">176</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br /> - -HIGHEST ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_23">23</a>. <span class="smcap">Evils of Knowledge</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_183">183</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_24">24</a>. <span class="smcap">Religion</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_189">189</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_25">25</a>. <span class="smcap">Art</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_196">196</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">§ <a href="#hed_26">26</a>. <span class="smcap">Morality</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_204">204</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap"><a href="#Conclusion">Conclusion</a></span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_210">210</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="smcap"><a href="#INDEX">Index</a></span>: <a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#Q">Q</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Z">Z</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_213">213</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_viii" id="page_viii"></a>{viii}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_1">1. Multipolar Cell Body</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_2">2. Pyramidal Cell Body</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_3">3. Dendrites of a Nerve Cell of the Cerebellum</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_4">4. Various Types of Cell Bodies</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_5">5. Longitudinal Section of a Nerve Fiber with Stained Fibrils</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_6">6. Terminal Arborization of Optical Nerve Fibers</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_7">7. Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Reflex Arches connected by a Low Nerve Center</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_8">8. Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Lower Nerve Centers connected by a Higher Center</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_9">9. Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Higher Nerve Centers connected by a Still Higher Center</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_37">37</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_10">10.Frontal Section of the Right Cerebral Hemisphere</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_39">39</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_11">11. & 12. Sections of the Cerebral Cortex</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_40">40</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_13">13. Localization of Peripheral Functions in the Cerebral Cortex</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_14">14. Color Pyramid</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_15">15. “A Burnt Child fears the Fire”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_111">111</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_16">16. Two Possibilities of Perception</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_17">17. Varieties of Perception</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_121">121</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="hang"><a href="#fig_18">18. Visual and Kinesthetic Control of Voluntary Action: the Former Intact, the Latter Lost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_175">175</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<p class="cb"> -PSYCHOLOGY<br /> -<br /> -AN ELEMENTARY TEXT-BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2"></a>{2}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3"></a>{3}</span> </p> - -<h1>PSYCHOLOGY</h1> - -<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION<br /><br /> -<small>A SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF PSYCHOLOGY</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Psychology</span> has a long past, yet its real history is short. For thousands -of years it has existed and has been growing older; but in the earlier -part of this period it cannot boast of any continuous progress toward a -riper and richer development. In the fourth century before our era that -giant thinker, Aristotle, built it up into an edifice comparing very -favorably with any other science of that time. But this edifice stood -without undergoing any noteworthy changes or extensions, well into the -eighteenth or even the nineteenth century. Only in recent times do we -find an advance, at first slow but later increasing in rapidity, in the -development of psychology.</p> - -<p>The general causes which checked the progress of this science and thus -made it fall behind the others can readily be stated:—</p> - -<p>“The boundaries of the Soul you cannot find, though you pace off all its -streets, so deep a foundation has it,” runs a sentence of Heraclitus, -and it hits the truth more fully than its author could ever have -expected. The structures and functions of our mental life present the -greatest difficulties to scientific investigation, greater even than -those presented by the phenomena, in many respects<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4"></a>{4}</span> similar, of the -bodily life of the higher organisms. These structures and processes -change so unceasingly, are so fleeting, so enormously complex, and -dependent on so many factors hidden yet undoubtedly influential, that it -is difficult even to seize upon them and describe their true substance, -still more difficult to gain an insight into their causal connections -and to understand their significance. We are just now beginning to -recognize the full force of these difficulties. Wherever in recent years -research in any of the many branches of psychology has made any -considerable advance,—as in vision, audition, memory, judgment,—the -first conclusion reached by all investigators has been, that matters are -incomparably finer and richer and fuller of meaning than even a keen -fancy would previously have been able to imagine.</p> - -<p>There is, besides, a second obstacle. However difficult it may be to -investigate the nature and causal connections of mental phenomena, -everybody has a superficial knowledge of their external manifestations. -Long before these phenomena were considered scientifically, it was -necessary for practical human intercourse and for the understanding of -human character, that language should give names to the most important -mental complexes occurring in the various situations of daily life, such -as judgment, attention, imagination, passion, conscience, and so forth; -and we are constantly using these names as if everybody understood them -perfectly. What is customary and commonplace comes to be self-evident to -us and is quietly accepted; it arouses no wonder at its strangeness, no -curiosity which might lead us to examine it more closely. Popular -psychology remains unconscious of the fact that there are mysteries and -problems in these complexes. It loses sight of the complications because -of the simplicity of the names.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5"></a>{5}</span> When it has arranged the mental -phenomena in any particular case under the familiar designations, and -has perhaps said that some one has “paid attention,” or has “given free -rein to his imagination,” it considers the whole matter explained and -the subject closed.</p> - -<p>Still a third condition has retarded the advance of psychology, and will -probably long continue to do so. Toward some of its weightiest problems -it is almost impossible for us to be open-minded; we take too much -practical interest in arriving at one answer rather than the other. King -Frederick William I was not the only person who could be persuaded of -the danger of the doctrine that every mental condition is governed by -fixed law, and that in consequence all of our actions are fully -determined—a doctrine fundamental to serious psychological research. He -believed that such a teaching undermined the foundations of order in -state and army, and that according to it he would no longer be justified -in punishing deserters from his tall grenadiers. There are even to-day -numerous thinkers who brand such a doctrine dangerous. They believe that -it destroys all possibility of punishment and reward, makes all -education, admonition, and advice meaningless, paralyzes our action, and -must because of all these consequences be rejected.</p> - -<p>In a similar way the discussion of other fundamental questions, such as -the real nature of mind, the relation of mind and body in life and -death, becomes prejudiced and confused on account of their connection -with the deepest-rooted sentiments and longings of the human race. In -recent years this has been the case especially in connection with the -question of the evolution of mental life from its lower forms in the -animals to its higher in man. What ought to be taught and investigated -on its own merits as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6"></a>{6}</span> pure scientific theory, as the probable meaning of -experienced facts, comes to be a matter of belief and good character, or -is considered a sign of courageous independence of spirit and -superiority to superstition and traditional prejudice. All of this is -quite comprehensible when we consider the enormous practical importance -of the questions at issue. Yet such an attitude will scarcely be of much -help in finding answers most correct from a purely objective standpoint; -it rather discourages the advance of research along definite lines.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, as we have stated in the beginning, psychology has now -entered upon a positive development. What favorable circumstances have -made it possible to overcome, at least in part, the peculiar opposing -difficulties?</p> - -<p>There are many; but in the end they all lead back to one: the rise and -progress of natural science since the sixteenth century. However, this -has made itself felt in two quite different ways; the force of the first -wave was increased to its full magnitude by a closely following second -wave. First, natural science served—if we overlook the hasty -identification of mind and matter which had its origin in natural -science—as a shining and fruitful example to psychology. It suggested -conceptions of mental life analogous to those conceptions which had been -found to make material processes comprehensible. It led to attempts at -employing methods similar to those which had proved valuable in natural -science. This influence was especially active in the seventeenth and -eighteenth centuries, and lasted into the nineteenth. Later a more -direct influence began to make itself felt: an actual invasion by -natural science of special provinces of psychology. Natural science, in -the course of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7"></a>{7}</span> further development, was led at many points into -investigations which lay as well in the sphere of psychology as in its -own prescribed paths. When it attacked them and worked out beautiful -solutions for them, psychologists also received a strong impulse not to -stand aside, but to take up those problems themselves and pursue them -independently for their own quite different purposes. So it was in the -nineteenth century, especially in its second half.</p> - -<p>Let us discuss more in detail a few particular results of this twofold -general influence.</p> - -<p>As the first important fruit of that indirect advancement through -analogy, may be instanced the idea of the absolute and inevitable -subjection to law of all mental processes, which I have just said forms -the foundation of all serious psychological work. This was a familiar -idea as far back as the later period of ancient philosophy, but was -afterwards repudiated by the theological representatives of philosophy -and psychology in the Middle Ages. To be sure, they always felt more or -less attracted toward this view on account of the doctrine of the -omnipotence and omniscience of God. For if God is almighty, then there -can be no event in the future, either in the outer world or in the heart -of man, which does not depend entirely on him; and if he is also -all-knowing, or if in the eternity of God the human differences of past -and future altogether disappear, then the future must be already known -to God, and in consequence be fixed unalterably. But in spite of this -argument, these medieval thinkers felt bound to affirm a spiritual -freedom (that is, a merely partial determination) under the pressure of -popular psychological and ethical thought and in consequence of their -contemplation of the holiness and justice of God. For how could God have -willed the sinful deeds of man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8"></a>{8}</span> or have caused them, even indirectly? -Or how could he punish men for doing things which they were compelled to -do by unalterable laws which he himself had made? Although, so it was -argued, man had his origin in God, he was nevertheless not absolutely -bound by the divine within him; he could turn away from it voluntarily, -that is, causelessly.</p> - -<p>The influence of the rising natural science led to the opposite answer -to the question as to whether the basis of our responsibility is -spiritual freedom or universal causation. Hobbes and Spinoza became the -champions of universal causation, presenting their answer to the -question with a clearness and incisiveness imposing even to-day. Leibniz -too adopted it, but took care not to offend those holding to the other -view. It has never been lost again from psychology. These men teach that -the phenomena of the mental life are in one respect exactly like those -of external nature, with which they are indeed closely connected: at any -moment they are definitely fixed through their causes, and cannot be -otherwise than as we actually find them. Freedom of action in the sense -of causelessness is an empty concept. It follows from this that one can -properly mean by freedom of action only that there is no compulsion from -without, that the action of a thing or being is determined only by its -own nature, its own indwelling properties. We say of water that it flows -along freely if it is not checked by rocks or dams; or of a horse, that -it runs about freely, if it is not tied up or locked in a stall. We can -in this sense call the good deeds of a person or his living together -with other people his own free action, if it springs from his own -deliberations and desires and is not coerced by force or threats. -Nevertheless all these manifestations, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9"></a>{9}</span> flowing, the running about, -and also the good actions, are alike the regular effects of definite -causes.</p> - -<p>What constantly prevents men from recognizing this causality and leads -them to a belief in a misinterpreted freedom, is solely their ignorance. -Out of the multitude of motives for their actions they see, in most -cases, only a single one; and if the action which takes place does not -correspond with it, they are convinced that the decision occurred -without cause. “A top,” says Hobbes, “which is spun by boys and runs -about, first towards one wall then towards another, would think, if it -perceived its own motion, that it moved about by the exercise of its own -will, unless it happened to know what was spinning it.” In the same way -people apply for a job or try to make a bargain and think that they do -this by their own wills; they do not see the whips by which their wills -are driven. In order to understand correctly the thoughts and impulses -of man, we must treat them just as we treat material bodies, or as we -treat the lines and points of mathematics. The pretended dangers of such -a conception of things disappear, as soon as we face them without -prejudice and try to understand them. The conception may be misused, -especially by people of immature mind, but “for whatever purpose truth -may be used, true still remains true,” and the question is not, “what is -fit to be preached, but what is true.”</p> - -<p>Supported by this view of a universal determination of mental activity, -there has arisen the idea of a special determination, likewise copied -from natural science. The coming and going of our thoughts is ordinarily -considered as an unregulated play, defying calculation. That order rules -even here, that the train of thought is governed by similarity to the -mental states just present, or by a previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10"></a>{10}</span> connection with these -mental states, was clearly recognized and expressed even in the times of -Plato and Aristotle. Yet this had remained merely the knowledge of a -curiosity; no theoretical use whatever was made of it. Now it was -brought into connection with newly recognized physical facts. This -determination of the trains of thought depends, according to Hobbes, on -the fact that our ideas are connected with material movements within the -nerves and other organs, and that these movements, when once started, -cannot immediately cease, but must gradually be consumed by resistance. -The laws of association are to him in the spiritual sphere, what the law -of inertia is in the physical. To Hume, a hundred years later, they -depend on a kind of attraction, an idea suggested by Newton’s law of -gravitation. And since inertia and attraction had been recognized as the -most important and fundamental causes of material processes, it was a -natural thing to regard the laws of association, which had been compared -with them, as the fundamental phenomena of mental life, and to derive -from them as manifold and important consequences as had been done in the -case of the physical world. So arose the English associational -psychology. It attempted to explain the traditional faculties of the -mind, such as memory, imagination, judgment, and also the results of -their combined activity (for instance, the consciousness of self and of -the outer world) as natural and, so to speak, mechanical effects of the -laws of association governing the processes of mind. No doubt this -attempt, appearing also in a somewhat different form in the -sensationalism of France, represents, in spite of its one-sidedness, a -very great advance over the psychology of the past.</p> - -<p>Just as associationism corresponds to the explanatory natural science of -Galileo and Newton, the empirical psychology<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11"></a>{11}</span> of the German -enlightenment corresponds to the descriptive science of Linnæus and -Buffon. But aside from a few exceptions, such as Tetens, its work must -be regarded as a failure. To be sure, its intention is also to explain -mental phenomena, to comprehend them first by careful introspection, and -then to find by analysis the simplest faculties from which they have -sprung. But its actual accomplishment does not go beyond a mere -description of the occurrences offering themselves to first observation. -And the results reached teach impressively that description is an -unfruitful task unless, as sometimes of late, it is made to include also -explanation. The numerous different expressions of mind, already -distinguished by popular psychology, are only arranged in certain groups -beside and above each other, and the explanation consists in presenting -each expression as the effect of a special faculty. Thus we obtain a -great multitude of complicated mental performances, inwardly related to -each other, which are made to stand on a footing of equality and perfect -independence, for example, perception, judgment, reason, imagination, -and also abstraction, wit, symbolism, and so on. Like mere little -<i>homunculi</i> in the large <i>homo</i>, they act now in harmony, now in -opposition. The poetic faculty, for example, “is a coöperation of -imagination with judgment.” In connection with reason, imagination -produces foresight. “Wit often does harm to judgment, and leads it to -false verdicts.... Judgment must therefore be constantly on its guard -against wit.” The advancement in this case did not result from a -development of these views, but from their overthrow. But the opposition -raised was turned also against associationism.</p> - -<p>Of the defects of associationism this is the greatest: it gives no -explanation of the phenomenon of attention. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12"></a>{12}</span> peculiar fact that of a -great number of conscious impressions or ideas simultaneously offered to -the mind, only a few can ever be carried through and become effective, -is not to be explained on the basis of the associative connection of -ideas. The associationists pass over this important fact either with -complete silence or with a very insufficient treatment, and thus put a -weapon into the hands of their opponents. The mind seems, in fact, in -the case of attention to mock at all attempts at explanation and to -prove itself, quite in the sense of the popular conception, a reality -separable from its own contents—standing face to face with them, and -treating them capriciously now in one way, now in another.</p> - -<p>It is the chief service of Herbart to have recognized a weak point here, -and to have attempted to remedy it. “The regularity of the mental life,” -he is convinced, “is fully equal to that of the movements of the stars.” -Physical analogies guide him in his attempt at explanation. He regards -ideas as mutually repellent structures, or, as it were, elastic bodies, -assigned to a space of limited capacity, forced together and made -smaller by mutual pressure, but never annihilating each other. If -several ideas are simultaneously called forth, they become conflicting -forces, on account of the unity of the mind, in which they are compelled -to be together, and on account of the opposition which exists among -them. In this struggle their clearness suffers and their influence on -consciousness is impaired. However, they do not perish, but become, to -the extent that they suffer, latent forces.</p> - -<p>As soon as the opposing factors lose their strength these latent forces -emerge again into full consciousness out of the obscurity in which they -have been buried. After making some further simple assumptions as to the -strength<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13"></a>{13}</span> of these interferences, Herbart concludes that two ideas are -sufficient to crowd a third completely out of consciousness. To his -great satisfaction he thus gains from the consideration of a simple -mechanism “a solution of the most general of all psychological -problems.” By this problem he means the fact that of all the knowing, -thinking, wishing, which at any moment might be brought about by the -proper causes, only a very small part plays a significant rôle, while -the rest is not really lost. That is, he means the fact of attention. -But this principle of the mutual interference of ideas is not the only -one he uses. The second principle upon which his theory is based is that -of association. With these two weapons he takes up the fight against the -faculty psychology, and carries it to a successful end. He believes that -all those activities traditionally placed side by side, even feeling and -desire, can be made comprehensible as results of the mechanics of ideas.</p> - -<p>Yet Herbart seeks by still another means to “bring about a mental -science similar to the natural science: ... by quantitative methods and -the application of mathematics.” We find here and there before this time -the idea of advancing psychology by such means. The brilliant results -produced in natural science by measurement and calculation readily -suggested the idea that something similar might be done for psychology. -But the philosophical thinkers interested in psychology did not find the -right tools; they justified their inability by asserting that such an -undertaking was impossible. The most famous is the denial by Kant that -mathematics can be applied to the inner mental life and its laws, -because time, within which the mental phenomena would have to be -represented as occurring, has but one dimension. To be sure Herbart<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14"></a>{14}</span> is -not actually the pioneer in this field: he never gave a single example -of how a measurement of a mental process was to be taken. However, he at -least recognized that the mental life is open to quantitative treatment, -not only with regard to time, but also in other respects. And in -attempting to solve problems quantitatively, through the statement of -numerical assumptions and their logical development to their -consequences, he so strongly emphasized a side of the matter which had -previously been wholly neglected, that more correct ways of clearing it -up were soon found.</p> - -<p>A strong and enduring influence was exerted by Herbart, yet the further -progress of psychology did not occur along the path marked out by him. -Many of his general assumptions, particularly those upon which his -calculations are based, were entirely too vague to appear probable -merely because a few of their consequences agreed with experience. -Besides, a strong opposition had arisen against the intellectualism -supported by him and by the associationists,—against the almost -exclusive regard for the thinking and knowing activities of the mind. If -mental life is really nothing but a machinery of ideas, a coöperation -and opposition of masses of ideas, what is such a thing as religion? Is -it a small complex of true and rational ideas, to which is added a large -complex of superstitious fables, invented, or at any rate cultivated, by -priests and princes, in order to keep men under their authority? So low -a valuation of religion is scarcely possible. Or, what is art? Are the -lyric poems of Goethe or the symphonies of Beethoven really only -institutions for the conveyance of knowledge through the senses, as the -name <i>esthetics</i> indicates, or for the unsuspected instilling of ideas -which make men more virtuous or more patriotic?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15"></a>{15}</span></p> - -<p>Certainly one thing which stands in the center of all mental life seems -entirely incomprehensible as the result of a mere mechanics of ideas, -that is, that unity of mind without which we could not speak of -personality, of character, of individuality, without which we could not -call one man haughty and another humble, one good and another bad, one -noble and another base. Because of this weakness in the theory numerous -great thinkers, Rousseau, Kant, Fichte, Schopenhauer, raised their -voices to insist upon the significance of the life of feeling and will -as well as of the life of ideas, even to give to the former the first -place, as the expression of mind’s most real inner being. Thus -intellectualism was opposed by what we now call voluntarism.</p> - -<p>This transferring of the conceptions of natural science to psychological -research, in spite of the mighty impulse it gave to psychology, was not -without its disadvantage. The first brilliant advances in natural -science were in the province of physics, especially of mechanics. It is -no wonder, then, that psychologists, in their gropings after something -similar, turned first to mechanical-physical processes. Inertia, -attraction, and repulsion, as we have seen, aggregation and chemical -combination, were the categories with which they worked. No wonder, -either, that facts were often distorted and their comprehension made -difficult. For if mind is a machine, it is certainly not such a machine -as even the most ingeniously constructed clock or as a galvanic battery. -It is bound up with the organic body, especially with the nervous -system, and on the structure and functions of the nervous system its own -existence and activity somehow depend. So, if one wishes to use material -analogies and to make them fruitful for the comprehension of mental -structures, they must be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16"></a>{16}</span> taken from organic life, from biology rather -than from physics and chemistry. We may find phenomena comparable to -individuality and character, to the mind’s feeling and willing, in the -unitary existence of every plant and animal organism, in the peculiar -determination of its instinct of life and in the many special branches -into which this instinct ceaselessly unfolds. And indeed the -specifically mechanical categories gradually disappeared from psychology -during the nineteenth century, and made way for the biological -categories—reflex, inhibition, practice, assimilation, adaptation, and -so on. Especially that great acquisition of modern biology, the theory -of evolution, was at once seized upon by psychologists, and was utilized -for gaining an understanding of the processes as well in the mind of the -individual as in human society.</p> - -<p>But side by side with such advances, springing from analogy and -adaptation, there arose in the nineteenth century another and more -direct influence of natural science, as previously mentioned. In its -natural progress scientific research came to touch upon psychological -problems at several points, and since it laid hold of them and followed -them out for its own ends, it immediately became a pioneer for -psychology.</p> - -<p>The first and at the same time the strongest of these impulses came from -the advance of the physiology of the senses. In the fourth decade of the -nineteenth century remarkably active and fruitful work in this field -began. Physiologists and physicists vied with each other in accurate -study of the structure and functions of sense organs. Naturally they -were not able to stop at the material functions in which they were most -directly interested. They could not forbear to draw into the circle of -their investigations those mental functions mediated by the -physiological<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17"></a>{17}</span> functions and explainable on a physiological basis. The -eye, especially, attracted scores of investigators, both because it is -very richly endowed with dioptric and mechanical auxiliary apparatus and -because it is particularly important on account of the delicacy and -diversity of its functions. Yet cutaneous sensations and hearing were -not neglected.</p> - -<p>Johannes Müller, E. H. Weber, Brewster, and above all—especially -versatile, far-seeing, and inventive—the somewhat younger Helmholtz, -are only a few of the most noteworthy representatives of this class of -research. They brought to psychology results such as it had never known -before—results resting on well-conceived and original questions as to -the nature of things, and on skillful attempts at arranging the -circumstances for an answer, that is, on <i>experiment</i> and when possible -on exact <i>measurement</i> of the effects and their causes. When Weber in -1828 had the seemingly petty curiosity to want to know at what distances -apart two touches on the skin could be just perceived as two, and later, -with what accuracy he could distinguish between two weights laid on the -hand, or how he could distinguish between the perception received -through the muscles in lifting the weights and the perception received -through the skin, his curiosity resulted in more real progress in -psychology than all the combined distinctions, definitions, and -classifications of the time from Aristotle to Hobbes. The surprising -discovery of hitherto unknown sense organs, the muscles and the -semicircular canals, was made at that time, although not thoroughly -verified until later. That discovery meant not only an increase of -knowledge, but also a widening of the horizon, since the most -conspicuous peculiarity of these organs is that they do not, like the -others, bring to our consciousness external<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18"></a>{18}</span> stimuli in the ordinary -sense, but processes on the inside of the body.</p> - -<p>One result in particular of these investigations in the physiology of -the senses became the starting point of a strong new movement. The -course of biology in the second quarter of the nineteenth century was -toward methodical and exact study of empirical facts, and away from -speculation in the philosophy of nature. But for some time this exact -study and this speculation were often to be found combined in the same -men. Fechner was one of these. On the one hand he was a speculative -philosopher, a follower of Schelling’s philosophy of nature, a disciple -of Herbart in his attempt at applying mathematics to psychology. So we -find him speculating as to what might be the exact relations between -body and soul, seeking for a mathematical formulation of the dependence -of the corresponding mental and nervous processes. One October morning -in 1850, while lying in bed, he conceived a formula which seemed to him -plausible. In spite of this speculative tendency he was a physicist of -scientific exactness, accustomed to demand a support of facts for such -plausible formulas, ready to attack problems not only with his mind, but -also with his hands. In following up his speculations he came across -some of the results of the work of Weber. By the use of more exact -methods and by long-continued series of experiments he carried Weber’s -investigations farther, at the same time utilizing the observations of -others to which no one had before paid any attention. He succeeded in -formulating the first mathematical law of mental life, Weber’s law as he -called it, according to which an increase of the external stimulus in -geometrical progression corresponds to the increase of the mental -process in arithmetical progression. (We shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19"></a>{19}</span> discuss this law in <a href="#hed_4">§ -4.</a>) He classed together all of his speculations, investigations, -formulations, and conclusions as a new branch of knowledge, -Psychophysics, “the scientific doctrine of the relations obtaining -between body and mind.”</p> - -<p>Fechner’s work called forth numberless books and articles, confirming, -opposing, discussing it, or carrying its conclusions still further. The -chief question which they discussed, the question whether the law -formulated by Fechner was correct or not, has gradually lost its -importance, and made way for other problems. Quite aside from this -question, which originally formed the center of interest, Fechner’s work -has made itself felt in three different ways. Herbart’s mathematical -fiction of the combat among ideas had made such an impression upon the -thinkers of the time, that—incredible as it may seem—as late as 1852 -Lotze confessed that he would prefer it to formulas found by experiment. -For this fiction Fechner substituted a scientific law derived from -actual measurement of physical forces. Further, he gave to these facts -their proper place in a broad system, showed their significance for the -deepest psychological problems, and thus compelled even those -psychologists who had affiliated themselves with philosophy and had -previously remained unaffected by the physiology of the senses, to take -notice of the new movement in their science. And finally, he worked out -a methodical procedure for all psychophysical investigations, which was -far superior to the methods then employed by psychologists and which -continues to be of great use for the study of sensation and perception.</p> - -<p>At about the same time, in the sixties, psychology received a third kind -of impulse. Although weaker than the two just mentioned, it contributed -not a little toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20"></a>{20}</span> increasing the number of psychological problems to -which experimental methods could be applied.</p> - -<p>In the year 1796 the Reverend Nevil Maskelyne, director of the Greenwich -observatory, noticed that the transits recorded by his assistant, -Kinnebrook, showed a gradually increasing difference from his own, -finally amounting to almost a full second. He suspected his assistant of -having deviated from the prescribed method of observation, the so-called -eye and ear method, and of having substituted some unreliable method of -his own. He admonished the young man to return to the correct method and -do better in the future. But his admonition was in vain, and he found -himself obliged to part with his otherwise satisfactory assistant. -Kinnebrook lost his position on account of the deficient psychological -knowledge of his time. It was not until two decades later that Bessel -discovered that such differences between the results of observations by -different individuals were quite general and normal, and that in -Kinnebrook’s case they were only unusually great. They depend on the -manner of giving attention to both the sound of the pendulum and the -sight of the moving star, which naturally differs in different -individuals.</p> - -<p>At first this question of the so-called personal equation remained a -purely practical astronomical problem. But a few decades later it gave -rise to two classes of investigations of psychological importance, both -of the experimental kind. The first was an investigation of a -comparatively simple problem—the duration of the mental processes. -Among such processes measured were the simple perception, the -discrimination of several perceptions, the simple reaction to them, the -reproduction of any suggested idea, the reproduction of a specific -suggested idea, and so forth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21"></a>{21}</span> Not only was the duration of these -processes studied, but also their dependence on differences of -stimulation, the accompanying circumstances, the individual differences, -the subject’s trend of thought. The second class of investigations was -concerned with the more complex mental processes of attending and -willing. As examples may be mentioned inquiries into the attention of a -person confronted by a multitude of impressions, a study of the order in -which the several impressions are perceived, a determination of the -largest number of impressions perceptible as a mental unit, and research -into the causal relations between ideas and actions.</p> - -<p>A more recent contribution of natural science to the advancement of -psychology has come from investigations in the physiology and pathology -of the central nervous system since the discovery about 1870 of the -so-called speech center by Broca, and of the motor areas of the brain -cortex by Fritsch and Hitzig. Some have placed a rather low value on -this contribution and, noticing the errors and immature conceptions of -this or that investigator, have arrived at the conclusion that -psychology can learn nothing worth mentioning from the work of these -men. This, it seems to me, is a great mistake.</p> - -<p>Quite aside from innumerable details, psychology owes to the -investigations made in recent years concerning the physiology of the -brain two fundamental conceptions. In the first place it has come to be -generally recognized that the search of centuries for the exact seat of -the soul in the brain—for the point where mind and body come into -interaction—is without an object. There is no seat of the soul in this -sense; the brain is the embodiment of almost absolute decentralization. -Our mind receives the impressions of the external world by means of -widely separated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22"></a>{22}</span> parts of the brain, as different sensations, according -to the peripheral organs stimulated. And our mind controls our actions -by means of widely separated parts of the brain according to the local -differences of the muscle groups which are called into action. All the -parts of the brain are connected, but they function in relative -independence, without being controlled from a single point. Now, it is -clear that insight into this fact is of no little significance for our -conception of the nature of mind.</p> - -<p>In the second place it is only through the work of these neurologists -that psychologists have come to realize how enormously complicated are -even those mental functions which have always been regarded as -comparatively simple. That the speech function, for example, involves -consciousness of sound, of movement, and sometimes of sight, may be -recognized immediately, and has been recognized. That our images of -things are directly nothing but revived sense impressions of various -kinds, visual, auditory, olfactory, and so on, and that our skill in -handling things depends upon our experience obtained through running our -fingers over them, is also recognized. But that all these images are -more than abstractions, that they have a concrete significance even -though the subject may not be aware of them, has been recognized only -after the study of pathological cases, where, in consequence of peculiar -lesions of the brain a dissociation has occurred among those factors -which usually work together harmoniously, and where some of them are -perhaps entirely lost. It was not until these pathological facts were -known that psychology was able to give a definite formulation to certain -of its problems. It then became clear that many former problems which -took their origin from those popular simplifications, will, judgment, -memory, or from the seeming simplicity of ideas<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23"></a>{23}</span> and movements, were -perfect nonsense, considering the actual complexity of the facts. Now, -after having learned how to formulate its problems, psychology can at -last hope to understand the phenomena of mental life.</p> - -<p>The study of the brain has also had an indirect influence upon -psychology through the strong impulse which it gave to psychiatry. The -knowledge gained in the study of the abnormal mind gave a new insight -into the processes of the normal mind. And since psychiatrists most -often came into contact with the highly complex mental states, such as -emotion, intelligence, self-consciousness, the impulses which they gave -to psychology were a happy supplement to those other influences which -concerned chiefly sensation and perception.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>During the last decades of the nineteenth century all these buds of a -new psychology were—first by Wundt—grafted on the old stem and so -united into an harmonious whole. They have rejuvenated the apparently -dying tree and brought about a strong new growth. The psychology of the -text-book and the lecture room has become a different science. The most -conspicuous sign of this new conception of the science of the mind is -the establishment of numerous laboratories exclusively devoted to -psychological research.</p> - -<p>In earlier times psychology was but the handmaid of other interests. -Psychological research was not an end in itself, but a useful or -necessary means to higher ends. Usually it was a branch or a servant of -philosophy. Men took it up particularly in order to understand the -foundations of knowledge, or how our conceptions of the natural world -originated, and this again in order to draw metaphysical or ethical -conclusions, to settle the controversy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24"></a>{24}</span> between idealism and -materialism, to answer the question as to the relation of body and mind, -to derive rules for a rational conduct of life, often also with the mere -purpose of confirming views springing from some other source. Others -took up the study of psychology with a practical aim, for example, in -order to find out how to make the most of their lives, or how to improve -their memories. It is, to be sure, greatly to be hoped that psychology -will not entirely lose its connection with philosophy, as natural -science has unfortunately done. At no time, indeed, has the practical -importance of psychology, its great usefulness in education, psychiatry, -law, language, religion, art, been more strongly felt, or given rise to -more numerous investigations than at present. But it is now recognized -that, here as elsewhere, it is more fruitful for the true and lasting -advancement of philosophical ends, instead of always thinking of -advancing them, to forget them for the time, and to work on the -preliminary problems as if these preliminary problems were the only ones -existing. And so psychology, formerly a mere means to an end, has come -to be regarded as a special science, to which a man can well afford to -give his full time and energy.</p> - -<p>A few data may illustrate what we have just said. Until the last decades -of the nineteenth century psychology has not been able to support a -journal of its own. A few attempts in this direction were made in the -eighteenth century, when two psychological periodicals were started; but -neither published more than a few volumes. Even in the middle of the -last century magazine articles of psychological content were rare enough -and appeared only in philosophical, physiological, or physical journals. -During the last thirty years a complete revolution has taken place in -this respect, more remarkable than in any other branch<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25"></a>{25}</span> of science. -First at longer intervals, then in quick succession, numerous purely -psychological journals were founded in the principal civilized -countries, of which none thus far has been compelled to retire on -account of lack of either contributors or readers. We count at present -at least fifteen, six of them in German, four in English, three in -French, one in the Italian language, and one representing the -Scandinavian peoples. And there is an equal number of periodical -publications of single investigators and institutions, and also numerous -writings of psychological importance published in philosophical, -physiological, psychiatrical, pedagogical, criminological, and other -journals.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>1. How old is the science of psychology?</p> - -<p>2. What do you know about its early growth?</p> - -<p>3. What are the difficulties besetting psychology?</p> - -<p>4. What is the origin of popular psychology?</p> - -<p>5. Why is psychology so much hampered by prejudice?</p> - -<p>6. State the two ways in which psychology has been influenced by -natural science.</p> - -<p>7. How was psychology influenced by medieval theology?</p> - -<p>8. Who were the opponents of theological psychology?</p> - -<p>9. What does freedom of action mean?</p> - -<p>10. What kind of ignorance is the cause of the belief in absolute -freedom?</p> - -<p>11. How did the associational psychology originate?</p> - -<p>12. What is meant by the faculty psychology?</p> - -<p>13. What does psychology owe to Herbart?</p> - -<p>14. What is voluntarism?</p> - -<p>15. Why are mechanical explanations of mental life inadequate?</p> - -<p>16. From which science can psychology obtain the most fruitful -analogies?</p> - -<p>17. Which science gave in the earlier part of the nineteenth -century the strongest direct impulse to psychology?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26"></a>{26}</span></p> - -<p>18. What is psychophysics and who is its author?</p> - -<p>19. What is meant by the personal equation?</p> - -<p>20. What experimental investigations were suggested by the personal -equation?</p> - -<p>21. How did the study of the physiology of the brain influence -psychology?</p> - -<p>22. Is psychology a special science?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27"></a>{27}</span></p></div> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> -<small>GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY</small></h2> - -<h4><a name="hed_1" id="hed_1"></a>§ I. <span class="smcap">Brain and Mind</span></h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> we all know, the processes of our mental life stand in the closest -relationship with the functions of the nervous system, especially with -the functions of its highest organ, the brain. Local anemia, that is, a -lack of blood in the brain, causes fainting, a cessation of -consciousness; on the other hand, during mental work the blood pressure -in the brain is higher than usual and metabolism is increased. Narcotic -or poisonous drugs, as alcohol, caffein, and morphine, which influence -mental activity, do this by means of their effect on the nervous system. -Aside from such experiences, there are two special groups of facts upon -which our knowledge of this relationship is based.</p> - -<p>First the dependence of mental development on the development of the -nervous system. This is most conspicuous when man and animals are -compared. It is somewhat obscured, however, by the relation of the size -of the brain to the size of the animal. The larger animal has as a rule -the larger brain. Therefore the brain of man can be compared only with -the brain of such animals as are of nearly the same size. When such a -comparison is made, man is found to be no less superior in nervous -organization than in intelligence. His brain is about three times as -heavy, absolutely and relatively, as that of the animals most nearly -approaching him, the anthropoid apes; eight to ten times as heavy as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28"></a>{28}</span> -the brain of the most intelligent animals lower down in the scale, for -instance large dogs. Similar relations between brain weight and -intelligence are found in the human race itself. Of course, we cannot -expect that this relation will always be found in a comparison of only -two individuals. The conditions are too complex for such a regularity to -exist; but it is easily demonstrated when averages of groups of -intelligent and unintelligent men are compared. We do not expect, -either, that in every individual case physical strength is exactly -proportional to the weight of the muscles, although no one doubts that -strength depends on the weight of the muscles.</p> - -<p>The second of the facts upon which our knowledge of the relationship -between mental life and nervous function is based, consists in the -parallel effects of disturbances of their normal condition. Diseases or -injuries of the brain are, as a rule, accompanied by disturbances of the -mental life. On the other hand, mental disturbances can often be traced -to lesions or structural modifications in the brain. This cannot be done -in every case; but the actual connection is none the less certain. It is -often very difficult to decide whether or not any mental abnormality -exists. Expert psychiatrists have for weeks at a time observed men -suspected of mental disease without being able to pronounce judgment. -Equally difficult is the discovery of material changes in the brain and -its elements. Much progress has been made in recent times in this -respect; but it is still far from easy to recognize the more delicate -changes in nervous structure resulting from disease. Certain -abnormalities may never become directly visible although they involve -disturbances of function, for instance, abnormalities in the nutrition -of the nervous elements or changes in their normal sensitivity. No -wonder, then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29"></a>{29}</span> that for many mental diseases, as hysteria, corresponding -material lesions are not yet known. But the correctness of our thesis is -so strongly secured by the enormous number of cases in which it has been -demonstrated, that no one doubts that it applies also to those cases in -which, often for good reasons, its demonstration has thus far been -impossible.</p> - -<p>Of much importance is the particular form of this relationship between -brain function and mental life. Popular thought attributes the chief -classes of total mental activity to special parts of the brain. Judgment -is thought to have its seat behind the thinker’s high forehead. The -occipital part of the brain is, according to the medieval philosophers, -the organ of memory. And so Gall’s phrenology met with ready acceptance -from the public at large, which was delighted to learn that musical -ability, mathematical talent, religious sentiment, egotism and altruism, -and many other character traits had their special organs in the brain. -But anatomists and physiologists have not been able to admit the -plausibility of this doctrine.</p> - -<p>Yet popular thought has, on the other hand, always emphasized the unity -of mind. Those who regard its unity as the chief characteristic of mind -have for centuries sought for the single point in the brain where the -mind can be said to have its seat. If it were distributed all through -the brain, would it not be possible to cut the mind into pieces by -simply cutting the brain?</p> - -<p>That both these views of the relation between brain and mind are -inadmissible has become certain. Since about forty years ago the truth -in this matter has been known. But to understand it clearly it is -necessary first to familiarize ourselves with the construction of the -nervous system.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>23. What do we learn from a comparison of brain weight and -intelligence?</p> - -<p>24. What is the relation between nervous pathology and mental -abnormality?</p> - -<p>25. Is phrenology admissible?</p> - -<p>26. What view concerning the relation of brain and mind is -suggested by the unity of mind?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_2" id="hed_2">2</a>. <span class="smcap">The Nervous System</span></h4> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_1-1" id="sbhed_1-1">1.</a> <i>The Elements of the Nervous System</i></h5> - -<p><a name="fig_1" id="fig_1"></a></p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 258px;"> -<a href="images/i_030_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_030_sml.png" width="258" height="182" alt="Fig. 1.—Multipolar Cell Body." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 1.—Multipolar Cell Body.</span> -</div> - -<p>The number of elements making up the nervous system is estimated at -about four thousand millions. It will help us to comprehend the -significance of this number if we understand that a man’s life devoted -to nothing but counting them would be too short to accomplish this task, -for a hundred years contain little more than three thousand million -seconds. These elements are stringlike bodies, so thin that they are -invisible to the naked eye. They are generally called <i>neurons</i>. Within -them different parts are to be distinguished. The part which is most -important for the neuron’s life is a spherical, bobbin-shaped, -pyramidal, or starlike body, called the ganglion<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31"></a>{31}</span> cell or cell body, -located usually near one of the ends of the long fiber of the neuron, -but sometimes nearer the middle of the fiber. The length of the fiber -varies from a fraction of an inch to several feet. The fiber may be -compared with a telephone wire, inasmuch as its function consists in -carrying a peculiar kind of excitatory process.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_2" id="fig_2"></a></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> -<a href="images/i_031a_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_031a_sml.png" width="170" height="317" alt="Fig. 2—Pyramidal Cell Body. - -a, Nerve fiber with collaterals." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 2—Pyramidal Cell Body. - -a, Nerve fiber with collaterals.</span> -</div> - -<p><a name="fig_3" id="fig_3"></a></p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 239px;"> -<a href="images/i_031b_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_031b_sml.png" width="239" height="222" alt="Fig. 3.—Dendrites of a Nerve Cell of the Cerebellum." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 3.—Dendrites of a Nerve Cell of the Cerebellum.</span> -</div> - -<p>At both ends of the neuron are usually found treelike branches. When the -cell body is located near one of the ends of the fiber, many of these -branches take their origin from the cell body and give it the pyramidal -or starlike appearance illustrated by figures 1, 2, and 4. These -branches are called dendrites, from the Greek word for tree, <i>dendron</i>. -How wonderfully complicated the branching of a neuron may be is -illustrated by figure 3. In addition to the dendrites a neuron possesses -another kind of branches, resembling in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32"></a>{32}</span> character the tributaries of a -large river, entering into it at any point of its course. These are -called collaterals (lowest part of figure 2).</p> - -<p><a name="fig_4" id="fig_4"></a></p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 186px;"> -<a href="images/i_032a_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_032a_sml.png" width="186" height="312" alt="Fig. 4.—Various Types of Cell Bodies. - -1 and 2, Giant pyramidal cell bodies; n, nerve fiber." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 4.—Various Types of Cell Bodies. - -1 and 2, Giant pyramidal cell bodies; n, nerve fiber.</span> -</div> - -<p><a name="fig_5" id="fig_5"></a></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 89px;"> -<a href="images/i_032b_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_032b_sml.jpg" width="89" height="258" alt="Fig. 5.—Longitudinal Section of a Nerve Fiber with -Stained Fibrils. - -a, Medullated sheath." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 5.—Longitudinal Section of a Nerve Fiber with -Stained Fibrils. - -a, Medullated sheath.</span> -</div> - -<p>The ganglion cells have a varying internal structure, which may be made -visible to the eye when the cells have been stained by the use of -different chemicals. They are found to contain small corpuscles with a -network of minute fibrils between them, as shown in figures 1 and 4. The -nerve fibers, too, in spite of being only <sup>1</sup>/<sub>40</sub> to <sup>1</sup>/<sub>500</sub> mm. thick, -permit us to distinguish smaller parts (<a href="#fig_5">fig. 5</a>). The core consists of a -bundle of delicate, semi-fluid, parallel fibrils, the axis-cylinder. -This is surrounded generally by a fatty, marrow-like sheath, and in the -peripheral parts of the system this sheath is again inclosed in a -membrane. Certain fibers attain a considerable length, for example, -those which end in the fingers and toes, having their origin in the -spinal region of the body.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33"></a>{33}</span></p> - -<p>The treelike branches of the main fiber and of the collaterals, if far -away from the cell body, are sometimes called the terminal arborization, -from the Latin word for tree, <i>arbor</i> (<a href="#fig_6">fig. 6</a>). The treelike branching -has most probably a functional significance of great importance. It -enables the endings of different neurons to come into close enough -contact to make it possible for the nervous processes to pass over from -one neuron into another neuron, without destroying the individuality, -the relative independence of each neuron.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_6" id="fig_6"></a></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 199px;"> -<a href="images/i_033_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_033_sml.png" width="199" height="238" alt="Fig. 6.—Terminal Arborization of Optical Nerve Fibers." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 6.—Terminal Arborization of Optical Nerve Fibers.</span> -</div> - -<p>Wherever large masses of neurons are accumulated, the location of the -ganglion cells can be found directly by the naked eye. The fibers are -colorless and somewhat transparent. Where they are massed together, the -whole looks whitish, as is the case with snow crystals, or foam. The -ganglion cells, however, contain a dark pigment, and where many of them -are present among the fibers, the whole mass looks reddish gray. -Accordingly one speaks of white matter and gray matter in the nervous -system.</p> - -<p>The nature of the excitatory process for the carriage of which the -neurons exist is still unknown. It is certain, however, that this -process is not an electrical phenomenon. Electrical changes accompany -the nervous process and enable us to recognize its presence and even to -measure it; but they are not identical with the nervous process.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34"></a>{34}</span> -Probably it is a kind of chemical process, perhaps analogous to the -migration of ions in the electrolyte of a galvanic element, the lost -energy being restored by the organism. Two facts are especially -noteworthy. The velocity of propagation has been found to be about 60 -meters per second in the human nervous system. In the lowest animals -propagation is often considerably slower. It is clear, therefore, that -it is an altogether different magnitude from the velocities found in -light, electricity, or even sound.</p> - -<p>A second fact is the summation of weak stimulations. The second one -produces a stronger effect than the first, the third again a stronger -effect, and so on. It also happens that a number of successive stimuli -produce a noticeable effect, whereas one of these stimuli alone, on -account of its weakness, would produce none. On the other hand, if -strong stimuli succeed one another, the effect becomes less and less -conspicuous. The neurons are fatigued, as we say, and require time for -recuperation.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_2-1" id="sbhed_2-1">2.</a> <i>The Architecture of the Nervous System</i></h5> - -<p>The elements of the nervous system just described are combined into one -structure according to a surprisingly simple plan, in spite of its -seeming complexity. This apparent complexity results chiefly from the -enormous number of elements entering into the combination. The purpose -of the nervous architecture may be briefly described thus: The -conductivity of the nervous tissue is employed to <i>bring all the sensory -points of the living organism into close connection with all the motor -points, thus making a body capable of unitary action out of a mere -accumulation of organs, each of which serves its specific end</i>. Walking -along and meeting an obstacle, I must be able first to look<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35"></a>{35}</span> about and -find a way of pushing it aside or climbing over it, and then to push or -climb. This is impossible unless my eyes are connected with the muscles -of the head, the arms, the legs. Perhaps I am inattentive, or it is -dark, so that I run against the obstacle with my feet or my body. In -this case it is necessary that the sensory points of my skin be -connected with all those muscles. Hearing a call, I must be able to turn -my head so that I may hear more distinctly the sound I am expected to -perceive; but I must also be able to move my tongue and the rest of my -vocal organs in order to answer, or, as the case may require, my arms -and legs in order to defend and protect myself. Thus the ear and all -other sensory points of the body must be closely connected with all the -motor points.</p> - -<p>It is plain, then, that the simplest kind of nervous system must consist -of three kinds of neurons: sensory (often called afferent), motor (often -called efferent), and connecting neurons. To improve the working of such -a system, the afferent and the efferent neurons, and especially the -connecting (associating) paths, are developed by the introduction of -additional neurons, serving to cross-connect the primary chains of -neurons. <a href="#fig_7">Figure 7</a> illustrates the architecture of an exceedingly simple -nervous system of the most rudimentary kind.</p> - -<p>A perfection of the system is brought about by a superstructure built on -essentially the same plan. <a href="#fig_8">Figure 8</a> is a diagram illustrating this. The -points <i>S´</i> and <i>M´</i> correspond to the points of the same names in -figure 7. But several systems (three in the diagram) like that of figure -7 have been combined by connecting neurons in exactly the same manner in -which the combination was effected in figure 7. In this higher system -(nerve center, we should<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36"></a>{36}</span> call it) the points <i>S´´´</i> and <i>M´´</i> have a -significance comparable to that of <i>S´</i> and <i>M´</i>.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_7" id="fig_7"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_036a_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_036a_sml.png" width="242" height="235" alt="Fig. 7.—Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Reflex Arches -connected by a Low Nerve Center. - -(From Psychological Review, 15, 1908.)" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 7.—Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Reflex Arches -connected by a Low Nerve Center.<br /> - -(From Psychological Review, 15, 1908.)</span> -</div> - -<p><a name="fig_8" id="fig_8"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_036b_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_036b_sml.png" width="345" height="189" alt="Fig. 8.—Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Lower Nerve -Centers connected by a Higher Center. - -(From Psychological Review, 15, 1908.)" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 8.—Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Lower Nerve -Centers connected by a Higher Center. -<br /> -(From Psychological Review, 15, 1908.)</span> -</div> - -<p>Several of these larger systems (three in the diagram) are combined -again by means of connecting neurons in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37"></a>{37}</span> exactly the same manner as -before. This is illustrated by figure 9. The points <i>S´´´</i> and <i>M´´´</i> -have a significance like that of <i>S´</i> and <i>M´</i>, <i>S´´´</i> being nearer to -sensory points of the body than to motor points, <i>M´´´</i> being nearer to -motor points. This system of connecting neurons represents again what we -may call a higher nerve center—higher still than those which are -combined in it.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_9" id="fig_9"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_037_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_037_sml.png" width="346" height="142" alt="Fig. 9.—Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Higher Nerve -Centers connected by a Still Higher Center." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 9.—Diagram of Nervous Architecture: Higher Nerve -Centers connected by a Still Higher Center.</span> -</div> - -<p>Thus we may conceive any number of systems, one still higher than the -other. And we may understand how it is possible that simpler mental -functions may enter into a combination, forming a unitary new function, -without completely losing their individuality as functions of a lower -order; for combinations of simple functions represented by <i>direct</i> -connections into complex functions are brought about only by mediation -of higher connecting neurons which represent the <i>less direct</i> -connections of sensory and motor points. The most manifold associations -are made possible. A practically inexhaustible number of different -adaptations is structurally prepared, so that the most complicated -circumstances and situations find the organism capable of meeting them -in a useful reaction. This type of nervous system is the property of the -highest animals and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38"></a>{38}</span> of man. The lower type of nervous system is -represented by the reflex arches of the so-called spinal and subcortical -centers. The higher type is represented by the cerebrum and cerebellum, -which during a process of evolution covering hundreds of thousands of -years have gradually been developed to serve as the highest centers of -the nervous system.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_3-1" id="sbhed_3-1">3.</a> <i>The Anatomy of the Nervous System</i></h5> - -<p>The most prominent part of the nervous system is that inclosed within -the skull and the vertebral column. The spinal cord runs all through -this column up to the skull. Entering into the skull, it thickens and -forms what is called the bulb (medulla oblongata). It then divides into -several bodies, which are referred to as the subcortical centers, -because they are located below the cortex, which is the surface layer of -the cerebrum, or large brain. These subcortical centers contain the -central ends of neurons which are links of chains of afferent neurons -coming from the higher sense organs and from the sensory points of the -skin and the internal organs. Chains of efferent neurons, on the other -hand, take their origin in the subcortical centers, reaching at their -peripheral ends the motor points of the body, that is, the muscle fibers -of our skeletal muscles and of the muscle tissues contained in the -alimentary canal and the other internal organs.</p> - -<p>Above and partly surrounding the subcortical centers are the large brain -and the cerebellum or small brain. The ganglion cells of the neurons -contained in the cerebrum and cerebellum are all located near the -surface or cortex. There seems to be a peculiar advantage—not yet -perfectly understood—in having the gray matter spread out over the -surface of the cerebrum and cerebellum in as thin a layer as possible. -To this end the surface of the cerebrum is much increased by the -formation of large folds, separated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39"></a>{39}</span> by deep fissures (see figure 10). -In the cerebellum the folds are more numerous and exceedingly fine, and -they do not have the appearance of being the product of fissuration. The -surface of the cerebrum is estimated to be equal to a square with a side -eighteen inches long. Without the fissures the surface would be only -about one third of this. The mixture of ganglion cells and fibers making -up the gray matter of the brain is illustrated in figures 11 and 12. -Both are sections of the cortex of the cerebrum. In figure 11 the cell -bodies alone are stained and thus made visible; in figure 12 the fibers -alone are stained.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_10" id="fig_10"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_039_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_039_sml.jpg" width="283" height="325" alt="Fig. 10.—Frontal Section of the Right Cerebral -Hemisphere." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 10.—Frontal Section of the Right Cerebral -Hemisphere.</span> -</div> - -<p>From what has been said thus far it is clear that certain areas of the -cortex must be connected with certain groups<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40"></a>{40}</span></p> - -<p><a name="fig_11" id="fig_11"></a></p> - -<p><a name="fig_12" id="fig_12"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_040_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_040_sml.jpg" width="341" height="535" alt="Fig. 11.—Section of the Cerebral Cortex. - -Only the cell bodies are stained." /></a> -<br /> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr class="caption"><td> - -Fig. 11.—Section of the Cerebral Cortex.<br /> -Only the cell bodies are stained.</td><td> - -Fig. 12.—Section of the Cerebral Cortex. -<br /> -Only the fibers are stained. -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">of sensory points or motor points of the body much more directly than -with others. This is confirmed by histological, pathological, and -experimental investigations. For the eyes and the ears, for the muscles -of arms and legs, hands and feet, even the several fingers and toes, the -corresponding areas of the cortex—that is, the areas with which there -is direct connection—are definitely known. <a href="#fig_13">Figure 13</a> conveys an idea of -the relation between certain parts of the brain and the sensory and -motor organs of the body.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_13" id="fig_13"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_041_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_041_sml.jpg" width="315" height="219" alt="Fig. 13.—Localization of Peripheral Functions in the -Cerebral Cortex." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 13.—Localization of Peripheral Functions in the -Cerebral Cortex.</span> -</div> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_4-1" id="sbhed_4-1">4.</a> <i>The Nervous System and Consciousness</i></h5> - -<p>We have already touched on the question as to the relation between the -nervous system and consciousness. It is evident that no single point of -the nervous system can be regarded as the long-searched-for seat of the -soul, since no single point is structurally or functionally -distinguished from all others. But it does not follow that mental -functions<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42"></a>{42}</span> are localized in different parts of the brain according to -the popular conception of judgment, memory, will, and so on, each -depending on a special part of the brain. There is no more truth in the -similar assertions of phrenology. Localization of function in this sense -is impossible. Judgment is not a mental function which can be separated -from memory and attention. No more separable from each other are such -functions as religious sentiment, filial love, self-consciousness. The -sensational, ideational, and affective elements of these functions are -to a considerable extent the same.</p> - -<p>Localization of mental functions really means this:—Since there is a -division of labor among the sensory and motor organs of the body, and -since each of these organs is most directly connected with certain areas -of the cortex and much less directly with the other areas, it is to be -expected that certain states of consciousness will occur only when -certain areas of the cortex are functioning. It is but natural that the -province of the cortex most directly connected with the eyes serves -vision, including both visual perception and visual imagination; that -the province of the cortex most directly connected with the ears serves -audition. Who would expect anything else? In the same sense, the -sensations of touch, of taste, and so on, are localized in the brain. -The same rule holds good for movements. When our limbs move in -consequence of some thought concerning them, the areas of the cortex -which are most closely connected with them must function, while other -areas may remain inactive. Activity of our vocal organs, in the service -of our mind, can occur only by the influence of that province of the -cortex which is most directly connected with the muscles of the vocal -organs. But how varied are the thoughts which may bring about action of -the vocal organs! On the other hand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43"></a>{43}</span> how diversified may be the -movements by which a mother may react upon the crying of her child! In -either case it may be right to say that our mind is localized in the -brain as a whole—not, of course, equally in every infinitesimal -particle, but distributed through the brain in a manner comparable to -the distribution of the roots and branches of a tree.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>27. To what kind of things are the neurons comparable?</p> - -<p>28. How many neurons does the nervous system contain?</p> - -<p>29. What kinds of branches does a neuron possess?</p> - -<p>30. What are white matter and gray matter?</p> - -<p>31. How does the velocity of a nervous process compare with other -velocities in nature?</p> - -<p>32. What is the general function of the nervous system?</p> - -<p>33. Can you draw a diagram illustrating the architecture of a -simple and of a more complex nervous system?</p> - -<p>34. How can simpler nervous functions enter into a combination -without completely losing their individuality?</p> - -<p>35. What is meant by subcortical?</p> - -<p>36. What is meant by afferent and efferent neurons?</p> - -<p>37. How large is the surface of the brain?</p> - -<p>38. What is meant by sensory and motor areas of the cortex?</p> - -<p>39. Where is the seat of the soul?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_3" id="hed_3">3</a>. <span class="smcap">Explanation of the Functional Relation between Brain and Mind</span></h4> - -<p>How the functional relation between the mind and the nervous system -should be explained, is a question discussed for centuries and variously -answered. But all the answers are essentially either the one or the -other of these two: (1) Either the brain is a tool of the mind, or (2) -it is an objectified conception of the mind itself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44"></a>{44}</span></p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_1-2" id="sbhed_1-2">1.</a> <i>The Brain a Tool of the Mind</i></h5> - -<p>Popular thought, supported by desires common to all human beings, -readily accepts the view that mind is essentially different from matter, -that its laws are in every respect different from the laws of material -nature, and that the brain, being a part of the material nature, is -simply the special tool used by the mind in its intercourse with nature. -Consider what a contrast seems to exist between logical certainty and -the mere probability derived from more or less deceptive sense -impressions, between voluntary attention and sensual desire, between -religious inspiration and ordinary perception, artistic creation and -everyday work. Nevertheless, these highest as well as the lowest -activities of the mind need a tool with which they can get into -communication with the world; and this tool, says popular thought, is -the brain. By means of this tool the mind can take possession of the -world and shape it at will. This explanation of the functional relation -between the mind and the nervous system agrees well with the facts above -discussed concerning brain weight and intelligence, and nervous -pathology and mental abnormality. That the magnitude, the architecture, -the normal condition of a tool have an influence on the task performed, -is plain enough. Many a piece of music can be played on a large organ -having a great variety of stops, whereas its performance on a small -instrument would be impossible. Raffael might have deserved the name of -a great painter if born without arms, but the world would never have -known it.</p> - -<p>The facts of localization of function, however, do not agree so well -with this tool conception of the brain, which always leads us back again -to the theory that the mind takes hold of its tool at a single point. If -the mind can<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45"></a>{45}</span> suffer or produce <i>this</i> change only here, <i>that</i> change -only there, it is difficult to see why we should regard it as an -altogether separate entity. Some have pointed out, as an analogy, that -truth too is everywhere, and because of its absolute unity, everywhere -in its totality, without being bound to space and time. I must doubt, -however, if truth is present where such analogies are worked out, for -nothing can be less clear than the assertion that truth has unity. Mind -is not everywhere in its totality, neither in the brain nor in the whole -world. It is partly here, partly there; as seeing mind it is in the -occipital convolutions of the brain, as hearing mind in the temporal -convolutions. Thus we are forced, if we regard the brain as the mind’s -tool, to regard the mind as an entity possessing spatial form. If we -reject this conclusion, we must also reject the premise that the brain -is the mind’s tool.</p> - -<p>There are two other difficulties of very considerable importance. One of -them is compliance with the principle of the conservation of energy. If -mind is an entity independent of the brain, if the brain is a tool which -mind can use arbitrarily, without having to obey the laws of the -material world, there would be a serious break in the continuity of -natural law, and the principle of the conservation of energy would -suffer an exception.</p> - -<p>Until recently it was, not probable, but at least possible, that this -principle of the conservation of energy was not strictly correct when -applied to conscious beings, especially to man. But in recent years -direct experiment has proved that it applies to the dog, and even to -man. In an animal performing no gross muscular work the energy supplied -by the food is completely transformed into heat, which is absorbed by -the animal’s surroundings. Rubner has found as the result of very exact -measurements<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46"></a>{46}</span> that the heat produced by an animal during several weeks -is within one half of one per cent (that is, within the probable error) -equal to the quantity of chemical energy received from the food. One -might think that it would be rash to apply conclusions reached by -experimenting on a dog to man, whose mental life stands on a much higher -level. But even this objection has been removed by Atwater. He performed -similar experiments on five educated persons, varying the conditions of -mental and muscular activity or relative rest. The result is the same. -Taking the total result, there is absolute equality between the energy -supplied and the energy given out; in the human organism, mind has thus -been proved to be subject to the laws of the natural world.</p> - -<p>The second difficulty spoken of consists in the fact that, accepting the -view which regards the brain as the mind’s tool, we cannot well avoid -regarding the mind as a kind of ghost or demon, similar to the demons -with which the imagination of primitive peoples populates the -universe—gaseous and usually invisible men, women, giants, or dwarfs. -Mankind has always felt strongly inclined to believe in the existence of -such demons, and is still fond of making them the subjects of fairy -tales and similar stories. But the more mature experience of the last -centuries of human history has eliminated them from our theories of the -actual world and assigned them their proper places in tales and -mythology. Winter and summer, rain and sunshine, even the organic -processes in the heart or the spinal cord are understood only by -excluding from the explanation the assumption of such demons. The same -is by analogy true for the processes in the brain, for the brain is not -likely to be an exception to the rule. It is more difficult, of course, -to determine directly whether such a demon exerts his influence<a -name="page_47" id="page_47"></a> in the inaccessible cavity of the skull -than it is on the street or even in a haunted house. But no assertion is -entitled to be regarded as true merely because we cannot go to the place -in question and observe that it is false. Why not assert that heaven is -located on the back side of the moon and hell in the center of the sun, -merely because no one can see with his own eyes that they are not there? -We must make only those assumptions which, considered from all points of -view, have a high degree of probability, not those which flatter our -vanity or appeal to us as the fashionable belief of the time. Now, it -does not seem probable that our brain is the residence of a separable -demon, no matter whether we attribute to him the power of changing at -will the total amount of energy contained in our body, or conceive his -activity, as some psychologists do, as a new form of energy added to the -mechanical, thermal, electric, chemical, and so on,—requiring only an -additional transformation of energy and not breaking down the principle -of its conservation.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_2-2" id="sbhed_2-2">2.</a> <i>The Brain an Objectified Conception of the Mind</i></h5> - -<p>If we cannot regard the brain and the mind as two independent entities, -scarcely any other conception of them is possible except as a single -entity of which we may obtain knowledge in two ways, an objective and a -subjective way. <i>Mind</i> knows itself directly, without mediation of any -kind, as a complex of sense impressions, thoughts, feelings, wishes, -ideals, and endeavors, non-spatial, incessantly changing, yet to some -extent also permanent. But <i>mind</i> may also be known by other minds -through all kinds of mediations, visual, tactual, and other sense -organs, microscopes and other instruments. When thus known by other -minds, mind appears as something spatial, soft, made up of<a -name="page_48" id="page_48"></a> convolutions, wonderfully built out of -millions of elements, that is, as brain, as nervous system. By mind and -brain we mean the same entity, viewed now in the aspect in which mind -knows itself, now in the aspect in which it is known by other minds.</p> - -<p>Suppose a person is asked a question and after some hesitation replies. -In so far as this act is seen, heard, and otherwise perceived (or -imagined as seen, heard, or otherwise perceived), it is a chain of -physical, chemical, neurological, etc., processes, of material processes -as we may say. But that part of the chain of material processes which -occurs in the nervous system may not only be known by others, but may -know itself directly, as a transformation of perceptual consciousness -into thought, feeling, willing. The links of these two chains of -material processes in the brain and of mental states should not be -conceived as intermixed and thus forming one new chain, but rather as -running parallel—still better as being link for link identical. The -illusion that one of these chains brings forth the other is caused by -the fortuitous circumstance that they do not both become conscious at -once. He who thinks and feels cannot at the same time experience through -his sense organs the nervous processes as which these thoughts and -feelings are objectively perceptible. He who observes nervous processes -cannot at the same time have the thoughts and feelings as which these -processes know themselves. Those objective processes, however, which go -on outside of the nervous system, in particular those outside of the -experiencing organism, in the external world, precede or follow mental -states as causes generally precede their effects and effects follow -their causes. There is no objection to speaking of a causal relation -between material processes of this kind and mental states.<a -name="page_49" id="page_49"></a></p> - -<p>Whatever explanation of the functional relation between brain and mind a -person may accept, he need not constantly be on his guard lest he be -inconsistent. We speak of the rising and setting sun without meaning -that the earth is the center of the universe and that the sun moves -around it. So we may also continue to speak quite generally of the -material world as influencing our mind, and of the mind as bringing -about changes in the material world.</p> - -<p>Our view of the relation between body and mind leads to the further -conclusion that, as our body may be distinguished from its parts without -having existence separate from its parts, so our mind may be -distinguished from the several states of consciousness without having -existence separate from them. Mind is the concept of the totality of -mental functions. As self-preservation is the chief end of all bodily -function, so self-preservation is the chief end of mental life.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>40. Do the facts of comparative anatomy and of localized function -agree with the view that the brain is the mind’s tool?</p> - -<p>41. Is mind subject to the law of the conservation of energy?</p> - -<p>42. Is mind a demon interfering with the laws of nature?</p> - -<p>43. What is the cause of the illusion that nervous processes bring -forth mental states, or that mental states bring forth nervous -processes?</p> - -<p>44. Why is it correct to regard certain events going on outside of -the organism—and even in the organism, but outside of the nervous -system—as effects or as causes of certain mental states?</p> - -<p>45. Is there any objection to distinguishing our mind from the -several mental states?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50"></a>{50}</span></p></div> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> -<small>THE SPECIAL FACTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS</small></h2> - -<h3><a name="A_II" id="A_II"><i>A.</i></a><i>THE ELEMENTS OF MENTAL LIFE</i></h3> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_4" id="hed_4">4</a>. <span class="smcap">Sensation</span></h4> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_1-3" id="sbhed_1-3">1.</a> <i>The Newly Discovered Kinds of Sensations</i></h5> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> shall discuss first the simplest facts of mental life, later their -complications. It has often been objected that such a treatment is not -in harmony with the fact that we are more familiar with the -complications than with the simpler facts. But we are also more familiar -with our body than we are with muscle cells, nerve cells, and blood -corpuscles, and yet we do not object to beginning the study of biology -by a study of the structural elements and their chief properties. No one -understands this to mean that the cells of various kinds existed first -separately and were then combined into the body which consists of them. -No one should believe that the simple mental states existed separately -and were then combined into those complications with which we have -become familiar in everyday life. Simple mental states are abstractions. -But we cannot hope to understand the complexity of mental life without -using abstractions.</p> - -<p>Through the sense organs our mind receives information about the -external world. The traditional classification of the sensations divided -them into five groups. But the distinction<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51"></a>{51}</span> of five senses has been -found to be insufficient. At least twice as many must be distinguished.</p> - -<p>When psychologists tried to explain all human knowledge in terms of -experience, they met with some difficulty in the description of our -experience of solid bodies. Tactual sensation was found to be -insufficient for this explanation, since it informs us only of the -side-by-side position of things, that is, of only two dimensions. It was -soon recognized that the movements of our limbs were important factors -in this experience, and the question was asked: How do we perceive the -spatial relations of our limbs and the resistances offered to changes in -these spatial relations, that is, to movements? The first answer to this -question was, that the muscles, being obviously a kind of sense organ -which gives us the familiar sensations of fatigue and muscular pain, are -also capable of sending in definite groups of afferent nervous processes -according to their conditions of contraction and tension. This answer -was quite true, as far as it went; and about 1870 the sensory neurons of -muscles were actually discovered. The tendons connecting the muscles -with the bones were also found to contain sensory neurons.</p> - -<p>But this cannot be all, for we are able to judge the position of our -limbs even when the muscles are completely relaxed and a limb is moved -by another person. It is further a fact that a weight and the distance -through which it is moved can be estimated with fair accuracy, whether -the arm is sharply bent or straightened out, although the contraction -and tension of the muscles is very different in these two cases. It is -now known with some certainty how these estimations are made possible. -The surfaces of the joints are furnished with nerves. Make a slow -movement of the hand or a finger and attend to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52"></a>{52}</span> sensation resulting -from it. There is little doubt that the sensation is localized in the -joint. This view is supported by the fact that electrical stimulation of -a joint considerably decreases the accuracy of the estimation of weight -and movement.</p> - -<p>The three classes of sensations—muscular, tendinous, and articular—are -customarily grouped together under one heading as <i>kinesthetic</i> -sensations, meaning literally sensations of movement. But, as we have -noted, these sensations occur as the result not only of movements of our -limbs, but also of pressure or pull when the limb is at rest. They -always occur together with tactual sensations, but must nevertheless be -strictly distinguished from them.</p> - -<p>Soon after this distinction had been recognized, the tactual, or rather -cutaneous, sense was found to consist of several senses. The impressions -of touch, that is, of pressure on the skin, of temperature, and of pain -had always been distinguished; but it had not been known that the areas -of greatest sensitivity for touch are not identical with those for -temperature, and that the sensitivity for pain may be greatly diminished -without a corresponding change in the sensitivity for touch. It was only -about 1880 that these observations were explained, when an anatomical -separation of the neurons serving these different sensations was -demonstrated. If we test the sensitivity of the skin by carefully -stimulating single points, it is found that not every point of the skin -is sensitive, but that the sensitive points are isolated by larger or -smaller insensitive areas. It is further found that the points sensitive -to warmth are different from those sensitive to cold or to pressure or -to pain. This can easily be demonstrated for the cold points by touching -the skin in a number of successive points with a steel pen or a lead -pencil. Generally only the touch is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53"></a>{53}</span> perceived, but now and then an -intense sensation of cold is felt on definite points, always recurring -when these points are touched. It is somewhat more difficult to -demonstrate the points sensitive to warmth. The sensation is in this -case much less noticeable. The points sensitive to touch are on hairy -parts of the skin always close to a hair; on other parts, for instance -the palm of the hand and particularly the finger tips, they are located -so close together that their separateness can be proved only by the use -of very delicate instruments. The same is to be said of the pain points -of the skin. We cannot, therefore, regard the skin as one organ of -sense, but must regard it as containing four classes of organs serving -the senses of warmth, cold, pressure, and pain.</p> - -<p>We must be sure, of course, to distinguish between pain, as a sensation, -and the feeling of unpleasantness which almost without exception -accompanies pain. We must further distinguish the sensation of pain from -intense cold, intense heat, strong pressure, dazzling light, all of -which may produce pain as a secondary effect. But the sensation of pain -is quite dissimilar from the sensations of cold, heat, pressure, and -light, to which it is added in consequence of physiological conditions. -The independence of the sensation of pain can easily be demonstrated by -touching the cornea of the eye with a hair. Pain is then perceived -without any touch or temperature sensation. The pricking sensation in -our nose resulting from the breathing of chlorine or ammonia may also be -mentioned as an illustration of the same point. Let us further -understand that pain is not only a cutaneous sensation, but also a -sensation localized in internal organs; for instance, headache, -toothache, colic.</p> - -<p>The most interesting discovery of a new sense organ<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54"></a>{54}</span> concerns the -labyrinth of the ear. It was made quite unexpectedly. The labyrinth -consists of the inner ear proper, or the cochlea, the system of three -semicircular canals, and between these two organs a pair of small sacs, -each containing a little stone or otolith, built of microscopic lime -crystals. All these organs, being all of the nature of cavities filled -with fluid and communicating, were originally regarded as serving the -sense of hearing, although no one was able to say how. It was observed, -however, that stimulation or lesion of the semicircular canals and of -the sacs did not affect hearing, but resulted in disturbances of the -coördination of the muscular activities in locomotion and normal -position. For more than fifty years these observations remained -unexplained; and even then their explanation was but slowly accepted.</p> - -<p>It is now recognized that the semicircular canals and the sacs are not -organs of hearing, but organs informing the organism about the movements -or position of the head, and indirectly of the body as a whole. The -sensations coming from these organs are usually so closely bound up with -kinesthetic and tactual sensations that we have not learned to become -conscious of them as a separate kind. Nevertheless we may perceive them -separately under favorable circumstances. If we close our eyes, turn -quickly a few times on our heel, and suddenly stop, we are vividly -conscious of being turned in the opposite direction. This is a -perception mediated by the semicircular canals. The fluid ring in the -horizontal canal gradually assumes the motion of the body, in -consequence of its friction against the walls; and when the body -suddenly stops moving, the fluid ring continues to move and to stimulate -the sensory neurons for some time. If the body moves in a larger circle, -for example on a merry-go-round or on a street car passing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55"></a>{55}</span> around a -curve, the mind perceives an inclination of the body towards the convex -side of the curve. If we go up in an elevator, we have the impression, -just after the elevator has stopped, of moving a short distance down. -These are sensations of the otolith organs.</p> - -<p>The otoliths are slightly movable, one in the horizontal, the other in -the vertical direction. If the body moves through a curve, the otolith -which by centrifugal force is driven outwards stimulates the sensory -neurons in the same manner in which it stimulates them when the body is -inclined. The perception of the body’s position is therefore the same. -If the body is quickly moved up or down, the vertical otolith at first -lags behind, and at the stop, through its inertia, continues to move a -little in the same direction. The result is a brief perception of the -body moving in the opposite direction.</p> - -<p>Artificial stimulation or lesion of the semicircular canals or otolith -organs in animals tends to produce certain unexpected reflex movements -of the body which the animal tries to counteract voluntarily, so that -all kinds of unusual movements are observed. If these organs are -destroyed, one source of information about the position and the -movements of the body is lost. This loss is not very serious in man, in -whom it occurs as a result of diseases of the ear; man can obtain his -orientation from visual, kinesthetic, and pressure sensations in spite -of this loss. It is far more serious in aquatic and flying animals. -Pressure differences are of no account when the body has nothing but -water or air on all sides. In a greater depth of water vision is -practically impossible. Under these circumstances the semicircular -canals and the otolith organs are highly important for an animal’s life. -Unfortunately no definite names have thus far been adopted for these -senses. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56"></a>{56}</span> are frequently called the static sense or the sense of -equilibrium. But these names are of doubtful value, since other senses -too may inform us about our equilibrium.</p> - -<p>The enumeration of our senses is not yet completed. What is hunger? What -is thirst? What is nausea? These mental states are certainly similar, in -some respects, to tones and odors. They are sensations. There is the -difference, however, that we do not project them into external space, -but think of them as characteristics of our own body’s condition. How is -consciousness of these sensations brought about? No doubt, in a manner -similar to that of the mediation of such sensations as odors and tones: -through the stimulation of sensory neurons and the propagation of -nervous processes toward the motor points of the body. The place of -stimulation must be somewhere in our organs of nutrition, and thus these -organs must be regarded also as a kind of sense organ. That the sensory -function can be attributed to an organ in addition to another function -has been proved by the example of the skin, muscles, and joints. The -same may be said of other organs, for instance the lungs giving us the -sensation of suffocation.</p> - -<p>We possess, therefore, a large number of organs whose primary function -is of an active kind, but which also give information as to the -condition of those active functions. The sensations resulting from them -are as independent of each other as tones are of color or taste. But -they do not permit of as many subdivisions as the sensations of the -so-called higher senses. For the emotional part of our mental life they -are of the greatest significance. Since we do not project them into the -external world, but think of them as significant of the functions of our -internal organs, they are rightly called by the common name of <i>organic -sensations</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57"></a>{57}</span></p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_2-3" id="sbhed_2-3">2.</a> <i>The Other Sensations</i></h5> - -<p>Besides the cutaneous sensations four classes were known to the older -psychology: sensations of color, sound, odor, and taste. The relation of -these sensations to the corresponding stimuli comprises a vast number of -problems and theories, but we shall here state merely that which is of -more general interest.</p> - -<p>The taste—in the ordinary sense—of a substance is by no means made up -exclusively of taste sensations in the special sense of this term. It is -usually a complex of different sensations which almost invariably occur -together. Only gradually do we learn to analyze this complex into its -elements. Touch sensations of the tongue and palate often enter into the -combination, for instance in a burning or astringent taste. Sensations -of smell are of particular importance in this connection. The different -kinds of meat, of wine, of bread, and of many other foods and beverages -are distinguished almost exclusively by the smell. Aside from these -accompanying sensations, there are only four tastes proper: sweet, sour, -salt, bitter, in all their possible mixtures and relative degrees of -intensity. In a manner comparable to the distribution of cutaneous -sensations, the taste sensations have their end organs at definite -points in the papillæ of the tongue and soft palate. The so-called taste -buds contained in the walls of the papillæ seem to be sensitive -according to the principle of the division of labor, some serving -chiefly this, others chiefly that taste. It is possible that all the -taste buds of the same papilla mediate the same taste sensation, so that -each papilla might be said to be in the service of a particular taste.</p> - -<p>The number of distinguishable odors is very large. Gaseous, fluid, and -solid substances, minerals, plants, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58"></a>{58}</span> animals have usually their -characteristic, although often very faint, odors. As new substances are -discovered or new mixtures of substances invented, the number of odors -is increased. Unfortunately it has thus far been impossible to arrange -this multitude of odors in a system according to a simple plan. Various -groups of related odors have been formed by investigators (for example, -the odor of flowers, fruit, musk, onion, decaying matter). But it is -difficult to include all possible odors in such groups; and the relation -between these groups is still unknown. One reason for this difficulty in -understanding theoretically the sense of smell is the obvious fact that -this sense has degenerated in man. The organ of smell, a spot in the -upper part of each nasal cavity, is of small extent in man compared with -that of animals. Even more superior are the animals to man with respect -to the development of the olfactory nerve center. The degeneration is -the result of a lack of use. Man, walking upright, has but rarely an -opportunity of approaching objects with his nostrils closely enough to -be able to smell them. The animal, searching for food on the ground, -smells unceasingly.</p> - -<p>The opposite is true for color sensations. They, too, are numerous, -perhaps a million. But it is easy to group them into a system which -permits us to understand their interrelations. The relations between the -various colors are so simple that they can be symbolically represented -by a geometrical figure, a double pyramid with a four-cornered base, -like the one in figure 14. The vertical axis represents the visual -sensations which are colorless, arrayed so that the brightest white is -at one end, the darkest black at the other, the various grays between. -The base of the pyramids, which is not perpendicular to the axis, but -slanting, represents the series of colors of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<p><a name="fig_14" id="fig_14"></a></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 235px;"> -<a href="images/i_059_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_059_sml.png" width="235" height="310" alt="Fig. 14.—Color Pyramid." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 14.—Color Pyramid.</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">the spectrum plus the non-spectral purples, between red and violet, all -arranged in an orderly manner around the axis. The nearer we approach -the axis, the less saturated, that is, the more whitish, or grayish, or -blackish are the colors represented. The most saturated colors are -therefore represented by the peripheral line of the base. The base is -slanted because the most saturated colors are not all of the same -brightness (meaning by this term exclusively lightness as opposed to -darkness). The saturated yellow is much brighter than the saturated blue -and must therefore be located here, symbolically, nearer the point of -white than of black, while blue must be located nearer the point of -black than of white. The figure shows clearly that it is impossible to -deviate from the peculiar brightness of each saturated color without -diminishing the saturation, for we cannot move up or down from any point -of the peripheral line of the base and yet remain within the double -pyramid, without approaching the axis. But if our starting point is a -color of less than the maximum of saturation, we may change the -brightness within<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60"></a>{60}</span> certain limits without changing the saturation, for -we may then, to a certain extent, move up and down parallel to the axis.</p> - -<p>Some have represented the color system by a double cone, using as common -base a circle. But a four-cornered base represents an additional fact of -experience which is lost sight of in the circular plane. The four colors -red, green, blue, and yellow possess this property: that any one of them -is entirely dissimilar in color tone to any of the other three, while -any given color other than these must resemble just two of these. No -other four or any other number of colors can be found which fulfill -exactly these conditions. In order to represent this fact symbolically, -we ought to give the colors red, green, blue, and yellow distinguished -places in the periphery of the basal plane, and this can be done most -easily by choosing as a base a four-cornered plane.</p> - -<p>By the aid of this color system it is easy to understand an abnormality -of our color sense which occurs rather frequently, so-called color -blindness. It is found almost exclusively among men, three per cent of -them being affected, whereas it is very rare among women, although it is -inherited through woman. Instead of three dimensions, two are sufficient -for the representation of the color sensations of such individuals: a -plane which is placed through the points white, black, blue, and yellow. -The color sensations represented by those points of the pyramid which -lie outside the plane just mentioned appear to the color-blind person -yellowish if they are located on either side of the yellow triangle, so -to speak; they appear bluish if they are located on either side of the -blue triangle, and colorless if located exactly on either side of the -axis. There are, however, a large number of minor<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61"></a>{61}</span> differences not -included or even expressed incorrectly in the above brief statement; the -color-blind person, for instance, is more likely to see things yellowish -than bluish. Since color-blind people may sometimes confuse such -conspicuously different colors as red and green, they are often called -red-green-blind. That they also confuse greenish blue with violet seems -less remarkable to the normal person than the former fact. In testing a -color-blind person one must not expect to find that he will confuse any -red with any green. Brightness and saturation play here very important -parts, and all kinds of individual differences have been observed. -Nevertheless color-blind people fail to distinguish red and green much -more frequently than people having a normal color sense, and should -therefore be strictly excluded from any service in which the distinction -of red and green is of importance, as in railway and marine signaling. -For the normal person red and green are the ideal colors of signals, -because yellow is not always sufficiently different from white, and a -saturated blue is too dark.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>It is interesting to observe that colors are never simple or -complex in the sense in which a musical tone is simple and a chord -is a multitude of tones, or lemonade is a mixture of sour and -sweet. Any color sensation which is uniform over its area is as -simple as any other. The colors which, in our color pyramid, are -located between two of the four fundamental colors red, green, -blue, and yellow are “mixtures” only in the sense that the mixed -color <i>resembles</i> two of those four, not that we are conscious of -two separate sensations in one act of perception.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless we often have to speak of mixed colors and of -principal colors entering into mixtures. These phrases have many -different meanings. Most colors which we see in actual life are -mixtures in a physical sense, mixtures of ether waves, although our -sense organ does not inform us as to whether they are mixtures or -homogeneous light. White or gray or purple can never be anything -but mixtures in this physical sense. In actual life the only color -which is often simple,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62"></a>{62}</span> homogeneous light, is dark red, for -physical causes which do not concern us here. But this physical -complexity is irrelevant for the psychological question as to the -simplicity or complexity of color sensation.</p> - -<p>Even more confusion has been carried into the psychology of color -by the fact that in dyeing and painting chemical substances are -sometimes applied as they occur in nature or come from the factory, -sometimes they are first mixed together and then applied. The -painter cannot afford to have an infinite number of color pigments -on the palette. He selects therefore a small number, at least -white, red, yellow, and blue. This is for many ends sufficient, and -he may therefore call these pigments his principal colors, and -wonder why one should call green a “fundamental” color, since he -can produce it by mixing blue and yellow. It is indeed no difficult -task to find people who, like Goethe, are convinced that they are -able to perceive in the green the yellow and the blue which the -painter used in order to give us the impression of green.</p> - -<p>Still another difference occurs in the use of the terms simple and -mixed colors in physiology, with reference to the processes going -on in the eye and the part of the nervous system connected with the -eye. It is plain, therefore, that whenever we speak of colors we -must state in what sense we do this.</p></div> - -<p>Auditory sensations are usually divided into two classes: tones and -noises. They do not often appear separately. A violin tone, for example, -is accompanied by some noise, and in the howling of the wind tones may -be discerned. Both may be perceived in many different intensities, and -both may be said to be low or high. Many thousands of tones may be -distinguished from the lowest to the highest audible. Within one octave, -in the middle region, more than a thousand can be distinguished. The -fact that in music we use only twelve tones within each octave arises -from special reasons: first, the difficulty of handling an instrument of -too many tones; and especially the fact that with a particular tone only -a limited number of others can be melodically or harmonically combined -with a pleasing result.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63"></a>{63}</span></p> - -<p>Just as the colors, so the tones are a continuum, that is, one can pass -from the lowest to the highest tones without at any moment making a -noticeable change. We refer to this continuum by the word pitch. But -tones also possess what is called quality; that is, they are either -mellow or shrill. This mellowness is to some extent dependent on the -pitch of each tone, for low tones are never very shrill and high tones -never very mellow. But to some extent a tone may be made more or less -shrill and yet retain exactly the same musical value, the same pitch. -This is brought about by the overtones, of which a larger or smaller -number is nearly always added to musical tones. Without being perceived -as separate pitches the overtones influence our consciousness of the -mellowness of a tone—the fewer overtones, the mellower; the more -overtones, the shriller the tone. Each musical instrument has its -characteristic quality of tone, and in some instruments, especially in -organ pipes, the quality is skillfully controlled by the builder, who -“voices” each pipe so that it produces the required number of overtones -of the right intensities.</p> - -<p>It was said above that the overtones, as a rule, are not perceived as -separate pitches added to the pitch of the fundamental tone. It is not -impossible, however, to perceive them thus. Those who experience -difficulty in perceiving the overtones as separate pitches may use at -first special instruments, resonators, which are held against the ear -and greatly increase each the intensity of a special overtone. After -some practice one becomes aware of the pitch of an overtone without the -aid of a resonator.</p> - -<p>Noises may be classified into momentary and lasting noises. Examples of -the former are a click and the report of a gun; examples of the latter, -the roaring of the sea or the hissing of a cat. Many noises, as thunder, -rattle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64"></a>{64}</span> clatter, and the noises of frying and boiling, are mixtures of -momentary and lasting noises.</p> - -<p>From all we have said it follows that the function of hearing is an -analyzing function, enabling the mind to separate that which has lost -its separate existence when it acts upon the tympanum. Two or three -tones sounding together are usually perceived as two or three tones. In -hearing music we can simultaneously listen to several voices. When two -people talk together we may to some extent follow them separately. This -is obviously an ability of great importance in animal life, since -different objects, characterized by different tones or noises, rarely -separate themselves spatially as the colors of different objects do, but -act upon the sense organ as a single compound.</p> - -<p>There are, however, certain exceptions to the analyzing power of the -ear. If two tones differ but little in pitch, they are not perceived as -two, but a mean tone is heard beating as frequently in a second as the -difference of the vibration rates indicates. The ear thus creates -something new, but of course something definitely depending on the -external processes. If two tones not quite so close in pitch are -sounded, one or even several new tones are created, combination tones or -difference tones, the pitch of the new tone being determined by the -difference of the rates of vibration. These difference tones do not seem -to serve any purpose in animal life. They are merely secondary -phenomena, of little practical consequence, but of much interest to the -student of the function of the organ of hearing.</p> - -<p>We have seen that the number of classes of sensations is fairly large; -but to state this number exactly is impossible. According as we count -the muscles, the joints,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65"></a>{65}</span> the lungs, the digestive organs as several -sense organs or as a single group, the number of classes of sensations -is larger or smaller. However, it matters little whether we count them -or not. We know that provision is made for everything needed. -Information about the most distant things is obtained through the eye; -information about the things in contact with the body or the body itself -comes through the cutaneous and organic sense organs. Most varied is the -information about things at a moderate distance, obtained through eyes, -ears, and nose combined.</p> - -<p>Many of the higher animals surpass man in one or the other respect -through their sensory equipment. Many of the birds (for example, the -carrier pigeons) have a sharper eye; dogs and other animals, a keener -sense of smell. The sense of hearing in man seems to be equal to that of -the higher animals, and the cutaneous sense perhaps superior. In one -respect man is better equipped than his mode of living justifies, that -is, in possessing the semicircular canals and the otolith organs, for -which he has scarcely any use. In another respect he, as well as the -animals, is very poorly equipped, that is, for the direct perception of -the electromagnetic-optic phenomena of physics, only a small range of -which can be perceived as a particular kind of sensations, namely, as -colors.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_3-3" id="sbhed_3-3">3.</a> <i>Temporal and Spatial Attributes</i></h5> - -<p>The study of the simple in mental life, as previously mentioned, is -always a study of abstractions. The actual experience even of the -briefest moment never consists of a single sensation. And actual -sensations are always characterized by more than the properties which we -have thus far discussed. Colors always occupy space of a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66"></a>{66}</span> size -and shape; tones come from a certain direction; both colors and tones -are either continuous or intermittent, they are perceived simultaneously -or in succession. We naturally inquire into the laws of these spatial -and temporal relations. Unfortunately psychologists have not yet agreed -on a definite answer to the question concerning space and time. The -question is beset with difficulties, partly real, partly imaginary.</p> - -<p>Is it possible to perceive temporal relations as sensory qualities as we -perceive colors, tones, tastes, and smells as sensory qualities? We -certainly lack a sense organ of time. But aside from this, it seems -impossible to perceive duration at its beginning, when the end is not -yet known; impossible to perceive it at the end, when its beginning no -longer exists and can only be recalled in memory. It seems equally -impossible to get direct knowledge of a spatial relation. Imagine one -particular point <i>a</i> of the skin or the retina of the eye. If this is -stimulated, our mind receives a definite impression of touch or color, -but no indication of or reference to any other point, since no other -point is stimulated. Let the same be true for the point <i>b</i>. How, then, -if <i>a</i> and <i>b</i> are stimulated simultaneously, can the mind receive an -impression of distance between the two points, since there is no such -consciousness in the perception of either of them? If the mere fact of -an objective distance between the stimulated neurons were a sufficient -explanation, then tones too should be localized differently.</p> - -<p>Those who took these objections seriously tried to think of some means -by which the objective, but not directly impressive, spatial relations -could become known to the mind. It was suggested that the almost -unceasing movements of the eyes and fingers, the chief organs of space<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67"></a>{67}</span> -perception, might have significance in this connection; that perhaps the -kinesthetic sensations of eye and finger movement, being added to the -visual or tactual impressions, made up the consciousness of spatial -relationship.</p> - -<p>All attempts, however, to prove the correctness of this and similar -theories by applying them to the details of special experience, have -failed. While there is no doubt that movements of our eyes and fingers -are of great importance for the development and extension of the spatial -consciousness in the individual as well as in the race, they are not the -source from which springs the individual’s ability to perceive spatial -relationship. The fundamental part of our ability of <i>spatial</i> -perception is inborn, just as our ability to perceive light or blueness -or cold is inborn. From this inborn capacity for spatial perception the -individual’s delicate and elaborate sense of space is derived.</p> - -<p>The most convincing proof that there is an innate capacity for spatial -perception, is the spatial consciousness of persons born blind, to whom -an operation has given eyesight. The crystalline lenses of these persons -have been as little transparent as ground glass, so that they have been -unable to recognize any outlines of things. Nevertheless, they make -spatial distinctions immediately after the operation for removal of the -lens. Of course they cannot, without further experience, tell that a -round thing is the ball with which they have been familiar through the -sense of touch, or a long and narrow thing a walking stick. But they -immediately perceive the round thing as something different from the -long and narrow thing, without any tendency to confuse them. Spatial -extent is therefore an attribute of visual and tactual sensation as -brightness or darkness is an attribute of visual sensation, and -mellowness or shrillness an attribute of tone; with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68"></a>{68}</span> this difference -only, that spatial extent is not restricted to one sense, but is common -to visual and cutaneous sensations. That this is founded on some kind of -similarity of these senses cannot be doubted. But this similarity is to -be looked for in structural peculiarities of the nerve centers, not in -accessory mental states serving as special agents of spatial -consciousness.</p> - -<p>Very much the same is the case with time. Let us admit that the temporal -consciousness of our ordinary life is largely mediated by accessory -sensations and images. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, are not experienced -directly as properties of sense perception, but are extensions of -simpler experiences. But such extensions would be impossible if duration -and succession were not, somewhere in our mental life, direct -experiences. They are direct experiences in some very brief temporal -perceptions occupying, say, only a fraction of a second. The flash of a -lighthouse signal, the quick succession of sounds when a person knocks -at a door, are perceived as having temporal attributes without any -mediation by conscious states acting as agents. The <i>temporal</i> -attributes are elements of perception no less direct than the intensity -of the light or of the sound. The same holds for all other sensations. -Time is an attribute common to all. But here, as in space, we cannot -tell exactly in what respect all senses are similar so far as the -nervous processes are concerned. It seems that these processes or their -after effects continue a certain time after the stimulation has ceased.</p> - -<p>Another attribute common to all sense impressions is the -belonging-together of sensations, the <i>unity in variety</i>, so to speak. -The most striking example is the relationship of tones in harmony and -melody. Tones of certain comparatively simple ratios of vibration belong -together in a higher<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69"></a>{69}</span> degree than others. We cannot explain this by -reference to conscious agents mediating the effect. It is a fundamental -attribute of each tonal combination, the conscious effect of our -inherited nature. It is a property of sense, not of thought.</p> - -<p>In other cases our consciousness of relationship is indirect, mediated -by other conscious agents; for instance, when I group together -voluntarily four or five adjoining holes of a sieve and perceive them as -a unit. This grouping together would be impossible if the mind did not -possess the native ability to perceive a number of sensational elements -as a unit without altogether losing the consciousness of variety. It is -a mere consequence of our inborn nature when we perceive as such units, -for example, an animal romping among unchanging surroundings, a picket -fence divided into groups by the fence posts, a familiar compound -perfume, a dish made up of several familiar food substances. The same -holds for successive elements. We could never perceive tones or noises -in various rhythm forms if our mind did not possess the native ability -to perceive a number of successive elements of sensation under certain -conditions as a sensory unit.</p> - -<p>Our numerical concepts are obviously only abstract symbols for units -containing each a certain variety of elements.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_4-3" id="sbhed_4-3">4.</a> <i>Sensation and Stimulus</i></h5> - -<p>It is most interesting to observe the astonishing <i>absolute -sensitiveness</i> of some of our senses, that is, their ability to respond -to exceedingly small stimuli. It has been a difficult task to design -physical instruments as sensitive to sound as the ear. It has not been -possible, thus far, to surpass the ear. The sensitiveness of the eye to -the faintest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70"></a>{70}</span> light is estimated to be a hundred times that of the most -sensitive photographic plates. Remember what a long exposure is -necessary to photograph things in a rather dark room; but the eye takes -a snap shot, so to speak, of a star of the fifth magnitude, or of a -landscape in diffused moonlight. Man’s organ of smell is far inferior to -that of many animals. Nevertheless a trace of tobacco smoke or musk in -the air whose presence no chemist could detect is easily perceived -through the nose. A gram is about one twenty-eighth of an ounce; a -milligram is one thousandth of a gram. One millionth of a milligram of -an odorous substance is sufficient to affect the organ of smell. Taste -also is sensitive, particularly when supported, as in tasting wine or -tea, by smell. The cutaneous and kinesthetic senses, on the other hand, -are not very sensitive. A weak pressure, a small weight, a slight tremor -of our limbs, a spatial extent, can be detected much more readily by -delicate instruments than by our fingers or our kinesthetic organs.</p> - -<p>Very important is the range of perceptibility. Our measuring laboratory -instruments are, as a rule, adapted only to a small range. To weigh a -heavy thing, like a stack of hay, we have to use a balance differing -from that used by the prescription druggist. The watchmaker’s tools are -much like those of the machinist, but neither could use the other’s -tools. Nature cannot well provide separate sets of tools for delicate -and gross work. With our hand we estimate the weight of ounces, pounds, -and hundredweights. The same ear which perceives a falling leaf can be -exposed to the thunder of cannon without ceasing to respond in its -normal way. The eye which perceives a small fraction of the light of a -firefly, can look at the sun somewhat covered by mist, radiating light -many million<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71"></a>{71}</span> times as intense. No laboratory instrument has an equal -range of applicability.</p> - -<p>This wide range of usefulness is made possible partly by purely -mechanical provisions, partly by a special law of nervous activity -usually called Weber’s law. The iris of the eye with pupil in the center -is a readily changeable diaphragm. The stronger the external light, the -smaller the pupil, and the reverse; so that the eye is capable of -functioning at a stronger and also at a fainter illumination than it -could function if the width of the pupil were of a medium, unchangeable -diameter. The nose can smell faint odors better if larger quantities of -the odorous substances are by sniffing brought into contact with the -organ. Too strong odors are kept away by blowing out the air.</p> - -<p>More important, however, than such mechanical devices is the effect of -Weber’s law. If a stimulus is increased, the nervous excitation is also -increased,—not absolutely, but only relatively to the stimulus before -the increase. Suppose an oil lamp of ten candle power needs an addition -of a two candle power light to make me observe that the illumination has -changed. Nevertheless I shall not be able to observe a change of -illumination if to an incandescent gas light of sixty candles two -candles are added. The addition must be in proportion to the stimulus. -Since sixty is six times ten and twelve is six times two, twelve candles -must be added to make me observe the difference in illumination. To an -arc light of two thousand candles four hundred have to be added to -obtain the same result. If a postal clerk is able to recognize that a -letter which he weighs on his hand and which is one twentieth heavier -than an ounce, requires more than the one postage stamp attached to it, -he will probably be found capable of observing in the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72"></a>{72}</span> manner that -a package of newspapers prepaid for one pound does not have the correct -number of stamps if it is actually one twentieth heavier than a pound.</p> - -<p>Another way of speaking of the law is this: If we imagine a definite -stimulus successively increased by such amounts that the change of the -sensation is each time just as noticeable as it was the last time, the -added amounts of the stimulus are a <i>geometrical progression</i>. Let us -express the fact that the change of the sensation can always be noticed -<i>with the same ease</i>, by saying that the additions to the sensation are -an arithmetical progression. We can then state Weber’s law in these -simple words: If the sensation is to increase in arithmetical -progression, the stimulus must increase in geometrical progression. This -statement is mathematically identical with the most widely adopted -statement of the law, namely, that <i>the sensation is proportional to the -logarithm of the stimulus</i>.</p> - -<p>The practical result of the law in our mental life is this: The mind is -informed of a further increase in the intensity of the stimulus (however -great this intensity may have become before this last increase) without -having to respond to the absolute intensity of the stimulus with a -correspondingly enormous activity of the animal organism. Thus the mind -is enabled, figuratively speaking, to weigh a stack of hay or a -druggist’s herb on the same balance, to apply the same tool to a watch -or to a railroad locomotive, or at least to perform its work with a much -smaller number of tools than would otherwise be required. In the eye, -for instance, we have, as we see below, only two different kinds of -receiving instruments for faint and for strong light.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>It must be mentioned, however, that Weber’s law does not hold good -over an unlimited range of intensities of stimulation. If the sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73"></a>{73}</span> -were twice as bright, it would not appear brighter to the eye. For -such extreme intensities the law is no longer valid. Neither is it -valid for exceedingly low intensities; it makes no difference to -the eye whether the wall of a dark room is illuminated from a -distance of three or four yards by the glow of one cigarette or a -dozen. The logarithmic equation applies only to a certain—quite -large—range of medium intensities. For this range our -sensitiveness to change is not only constant, but also greatest. -Changes in illumination within this range can be perceived as soon -as the stimulus increases or decreases by about one hundred and -fiftieth.</p> - -<p>Weber’s law has still another practical significance. A thing which -we recognize by the aid of the differences in illumination of its -parts (as, for example, a stone relief) or by its differences in -loudness (as a rhythm beaten on a drum) always retains, not the -same absolute differences, but the same quotients or proportions of -the different light or tone values, however our distance from the -thing varies. Weber’s law, then, enables us to perceive the -identity of the thing although the absolute light or tone values -have undergone change. If our nervous activities were not regulated -in accordance with Weber’s law, the relief and the rhythm might -become unrecognizable at a greater distance, and the relief also at -dusk.</p></div> - -<p>A further important relation between our mental life and the external -world consists in our much greater sensitiveness to the moving and -changing than to the stable and permanent. A pencil point moved over the -skin under slight pressure gives us a perception of the length and -direction of the line traversed more accurate than the impression -received from the edge of a screwdriver pressed on the skin. On the -peripheral parts of the retina the sizes and distances of things are not -easily perceived; but no difficulty is experienced in noticing a waving -handkerchief or a starting animal. Only the small central part of the -retina is adapted to the perception of the motionless.</p> - -<p>The same statement holds for qualitative changes. The eye is not only -more sensitive to that which qualitatively changes than to that which -remains unchanged; it even<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74"></a>{74}</span> loses its ability to perceive things if for -a considerable time no qualitative changes occur. We have seen that our -eye can take snap shots under conditions which would make this -impossible for the photographic camera. But for time exposures, like -those used in photographing faint stars, continued for hours, our eye is -not suited. The eye, in such a case, would soon cease to distinguish -anything. The eye completely fixed upon one set of objects soon sees -their lighter parts darker, their darker parts lighter, their colored -parts less colored—more grayish—that is, it sees everything gray on -gray. This is technically called adaptation of the eye. Moving the eye -suddenly, we become aware of this adaptation in peculiar after-images.</p> - -<p>Similar adaptations occur in other sense organs. Constant pressure on -the skin, unchanging temperature of not extreme degree, permanent odors, -cease to be perceived. But what is new, what differs from the condition -which was in existence just before, is perceived at once; and because of -the sense organ’s adaptation for something else, as a rule it is seen -with particular intensity. This is obviously the most favorable -equipment for a struggle for life. Nothing is more dangerous in battle -than surprise.</p> - -<p>Our present knowledge of the mechanical, chemical, and physiological -laws governing the peculiar dependence of the different kinds of -sensations on special properties of the sense organs—that which is -customarily called a theory of vision, a theory of audition, and so on, -is rather unsatisfactory. Some thirty years ago much seemed to be -perfectly explained which has since become mysterious again. This much -has been learned, that the laws in question are far more complex than -they were believed to be.</p> - -<p>Only one statement about eyesight can here be made<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75"></a>{75}</span> without fear of -contradiction, that is, that the eye is a double instrument, one part of -the organ serving in daylight, the other at dusk and in twilight. But -this explains only a part of the total function of the eye. The retina -of the eye consists of a great number of elements called rods and cones, -forming a kind of mosaic. Twilight vision is served by the rods, which -contain a sensitive substance called the visual purple. Most of the rods -are in the peripheral parts of the retina, becoming less numerous toward -the center. In the central area there are no rods at all. The only -service of the rods is the mediation of a weak bluish-white sensation of -various intensities, as in a moonlit landscape. Ordinary day vision is -served by the cones, which are the only elements present in the center -and become rare towards the periphery. All the variety of our color -perception depends on the cones. In very faint illumination the colors -of things cannot be perceived, although the things may still be -distinguished from other objects. The rods alone are functioning then; -the cones have “struck work.” Neither can the shape of things be -perceived in dim light with normal definiteness, because the area of -most distinct vision, the central area, contains only cones; reading, -for instance, is impossible at twilight. The astronomer, in order to -observe a very faint star, must intentionally look at a point beside the -star, because of the lack of rods in the central area.</p> - -<p>While the human eye normally possesses both rods and cones, certain -species of animals have only one or the other kind of visual elements. -Chickens and snakes possess only cones. This is the reason why chickens -go to roost so promptly when the sun sets. Night animals, on the other -hand, have mostly rods and few cones. This explains why bats come out -only after sunset. In very rare<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76"></a>{76}</span> cases human beings seem to possess only -the rods, in cases of total color-blindness. The whole world appears -colorless to them, only in shades of gray. They dislike greatly to be in -brilliantly lighted places. They lack the keenness of normal eyesight -because of the deficient function of the central area of the retina, -which is normally best equipped.</p> - -<p>A mechanical theory of hearing was worked out by Helmholtz nearly fifty -years ago. This theory was at first generally accepted, but has in -recent years lost much of its plausibility. The inner ear is a tube -coiled up in the shape of a snailshell in order to find a better place -in the lower part of the skull. Its coiling, of course, has little if -any mechanical significance. The tube is divided into two parallel tubes -by a kind of ribbon, the organ of Corti, containing the endings of the -auditory neurons and also a comparatively tough membrane. Helmholtz made -the hypothesis that the cross fibers of this membrane were under -constant tension like the strings of a piano. The comparison with a -piano was also suggested by the fact that the membrane in question -tapers like the sounding board of a grand piano. As the piano resounds -any tone or vowel, so this system of strings would resound any complex -sound; that is, each of the tones contained in the complex would be -responded to by those fibers whose tension, length, and weight determine -a corresponding frequency of vibration. The analyzing power of the ear -is well explained by this hypothesis, but there are considerable -difficulties left. For instance, the fibers of the membrane, even the -longest, are rather short for the low tones to which they are assumed to -be tuned. And for the assumption of a constant tension of these fibers -there is no analogon in the whole realm of biology, since living<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77"></a>{77}</span> -tissues always, sooner or later, adapt themselves and thus lose their -tension.</p> - -<p>Another theory avoids these difficulties by merely assuming that the -ribbon-like partition of the tube, when pushed by the fluid, moves out -of its normal position only to a slight extent and then resists, and -that therefore the displacement of the partition must proceed along the -tube. If successive waves of greater and lesser amplitude, as we find -them in every compound sound, act upon the tympanum and indirectly upon -the fluid in the tube, the displacement of the partition must proceed -along the tube now farther, now less far, now again to another distance, -and so on. Accordingly, one section of the partition is displaced more -frequently, another section less frequently, others with still different -frequencies in the same unit of time. This theory then makes the -hypothesis that the frequency with which each section of the partition -is jerked back and forth determines the pitch of a tone heard, and -explains thus the analyzing power of the ear. What is chiefly needed in -order to decide in favor of either of these or any other theory is a -large increase in our knowledge through anatomical, physiological, and -psychological investigation.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>46. What are the newly discovered kinds of sensations?</p> - -<p>47. How were they discovered?</p> - -<p>48. What are the cutaneous senses?</p> - -<p>49. What is the objection to speaking of the cutaneous sense as -one?</p> - -<p>50. What is pain?</p> - -<p>51. Of what importance are the labyrinth senses (other than -hearing) to man and various animals?</p> - -<p>52. What is meant by organic sensations?</p> - -<p>53. What are the four tastes?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78"></a>{78}</span></p> - -<p>54. How does the sense of smell in man compare with that of -animals?</p> - -<p>55. Why is the color pyramid superior to the color cone?</p> - -<p>56. What are the chief symptoms of defective color vision?</p> - -<p>57. What is not meant, and what is meant, by color mixtures?</p> - -<p>58. Why does music use only twelve tones?</p> - -<p>59. What is meant by the qualities of the tones of various -instruments?</p> - -<p>60. Are there any limits to the analyzing power of the ear?</p> - -<p>61. What is the exact number of classes of sensations?</p> - -<p>62. How does the sensory equipment of man compare with that of the -animals?</p> - -<p>63. What do we learn from experiments on blind-born persons who -have been operated on?</p> - -<p>64. In what experiences is time an attribute of sense perception?</p> - -<p>65. Is tone relationship a property of sense or of thought?</p> - -<p>66. Can you illustrate the absolute sensitivity of our sense -organs?</p> - -<p>67. How does the range of applicability of our sense organs compare -with that of tools and instruments?</p> - -<p>68. Can you illustrate Weber’s law?</p> - -<p>69. What are the practical advantages obtained through Weber’s law?</p> - -<p>70. Illustrate sensitiveness to change and movement.</p> - -<p>71. How is the chief difference in the behavior of chickens and -bats to be explained?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_5" id="hed_5">5</a>. <span class="smcap">Imagination</span></h4> - -<p>Mind is influenced not only by that which is present, but also by the -past and—one may say—the future, and by that which exists at another -place. Consciousness of this kind is called imagery. I imagine a lion -and recognize that he looks different from a horse. I recall the room in -a hotel where I have recently spent a night and see that it differs from -my study.</p> - -<p>Imagery does not differ in content from percepts. There are as many -kinds of images as there are sensations,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79"></a>{79}</span> and their attributes are the -same. Imagination differs from perception only through its independence -of external conditions in the formation of new combinations out of the -sensory elements which have previously been experienced. Although the -kinds of content of imagery do not differ from those of perception, -imagery differs from perception, as a rule, in such a characteristic -manner that in ordinary life we are not likely to mistake an image for a -percept or a percept for an image. The imagined sun lacks brilliancy. -Its imagined heat does not burn. A glowing match, perceived, surpasses -those images. Only in childhood, in dreams, and in particular -individuals (artists, for example), and under particular circumstances -(like the imaginative supplementing of that of which only parts have -stimulated the sense organ) can imagery come near being compared and -confused with percepts. Generally the difference in <i>vividness</i> remains -great. A second difference is the lack of <i>details</i> of images. As a rule -only a few parts of a rich complex of sensations reappear when an image -takes the place of the original percept. And the selection of these -details is usually most grotesque. A third characteristic of images is -their <i>instability</i>, fleetingness. Compared with the persistence of a -percept, an image can scarcely be said to have any definite make-up -since its composition changes from moment to moment. Images come and go -in spite of our desire to keep them. They change like kaleidoscopic -figures.</p> - -<p>All this has its disadvantages; but also its great advantages. Being at -once pictures and mere abbreviations or symbols of things, images aid -effectively in our handling of things. If they were exactly like -percepts, they would deceive us, as hallucinations do. Their very lack -of details and their fleetingness enable our mind to grasp a greater<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80"></a>{80}</span> -multitude of things, to adjust itself more quickly and more -comprehensively to its surroundings.</p> - -<p>Independence of external causes and frequent recurrence from internal -causes give to our imagery the character of a permanent possession of -the mind. Not every part of this imagery is actually made use of, since -these parts are too numerous, but every part is always available for -use. This leads to the question as to the nature of the images while -mind is not conscious of them, particularly the nature of their nervous -correlate. Ever since the discovery of ganglion cells and nerve fibers -the naïve conception has readily offered itself that every idea has its -residence in a little group of cells, the idea of a dog in one, the idea -of a tree in another, and so on. Some have calculated the number of -cortical cells which would be necessary in order to provide a sufficient -number of residences for all the ideas acquired by a human being during -a long life. They have found that the cortical cells are numerous -enough.</p> - -<p>But the matter is not quite so simple. Our ideas, being made up of many -mental elements, overlap. If the idea of a dog has its residence here, -the idea of a lion its residence there, where, then, do we find the idea -of a carnivore, the idea of another kind of dog, the ideas of the -individual dogs known by me, the ideas of other carnivora, the idea of a -mammal, of a vertebrate, of an animal in general? These ideas are -interwoven in such manifold ways that it is difficult to assume that -each should have its separate residence in the brain. It is still more -difficult to apply this theory to the idea of barking, which can be -imitated by man, being natural to a dog; or to the idea of white, which -belongs to some dogs, but also to the clouds, the snow, the lily.</p> - -<p>There are also anatomical difficulties. I look first at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81"></a>{81}</span> a dog, then at -a goat. The elements of the retina which are stimulated are largely the -same in both cases. This makes it difficult to understand why the -nervous processes in the former case should all concentrate in one point -of the cortex and in the latter case in an entirely different point. Or -I hear the word <i>boxwood</i> and later the word <i>woodbox</i>. The anatomical -difficulty is the same.</p> - -<p>The nervous correlates of ideas are obviously much more complicated than -the theory of location in cell groups assumes. There can be no doubt -that the nervous correlate of an idea, even of an elementary image, is a -process going on in a large number of connecting neurons in the higher -nerve centers, often widely distributed, like the meshes of a net. The -individual neurons in question do not belong exclusively to this one -idea, but, entering into numerous other combinations with other neurons, -belong to numerous ideas. The nervous correlate of a latent idea, which -is not conscious but ready to enter consciousness at any time, is not a -material substance stored away somewhere, but a disposition on the part -of neurons which have previously functioned together, to function again -in the same order and connection.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>72. In what respects do images not differ from percepts?</p> - -<p>73. In what three respects are images as a rule distinguishable -from percepts?</p> - -<p>74. What are the advantages of the characteristics of images?</p> - -<p>75. What is the nervous correlate of imagery?</p> - -<p>76. What is the nervous correlate of a latent idea?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_6" id="hed_6">6</a>. <span class="smcap">Feeling</span></h4> - -<p>Sensations and their images are closely related mental states. They are -of the same kind. As a third class of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82"></a>{82}</span> elementary mental states the -feelings of pleasantness and unpleasantness are customarily added. But -it would probably be more correct to say that these feelings are mental -states of an altogether different kind, in comparison with which the -distinction between sensations and images disappears. Pleasantness and -unpleasantness never occur apart from sensation or imagery, whereas the -latter states of consciousness may be free from any pleasantness or -unpleasantness. The pleasantness which I experience is always the -pleasantness of something—of the taste of a peach, or of my good -health, or of a message received. However, we must not conceive this -dependence of pleasantness and unpleasantness as similar to the -dependence of color or pitch or spatial extent or duration on the thing -to which these belong as its qualities. Color, pitch, and these other -qualities are essentially determined by objective conditions, the -physical properties of the thing in question. But pleasantness or -unpleasantness is only to a slight extent, if at all, determined by -objective conditions. Honey tastes very much the same whenever we eat -it. A tune sounds very much the same whenever we hear it. But these -sensory experiences are, in consequence of subjective conditions, now -highly pleasant, now almost indifferent, now decidedly unpleasant.</p> - -<p>The same colors and straight lines may be combined into a beautiful -design or into an ugly one, the same descriptions of scenery and events -into an attractive or a tedious book. A feeling which is already in -existence may prevent the growth of an opposite feeling. On a rainy day -we are likely to feel as if everything in the world were gray; on a -sunny spring day as if everything were rosy. The grief-stricken or -desperate person experiences a given situation with other feelings than -the person<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83"></a>{83}</span> full of joy or hope. A particularly strong factor in our -life of feeling is the frequency of recurrence of a situation. The most -beautiful music suffers from being played at every concert and on every -street, the most delicious dish from being put on the table every day. -On the other hand, a bitter medicine gradually loses its unpleasantness, -an unpleasant situation becomes indifferent to a person whose profession -compels him to face it frequently. As the unchanging is at a -disadvantage in our life of perception, so is the recurrent in our life -of feeling.</p> - -<p>The subjective factor which determines what feelings accompany our -perceptions may be defined as the relation of the situation perceived to -the weal and woe of the organism. Pleasantness indicates that the -impressions made upon the organism are adapted to the needs or -capacities of the organism or at least to that part of the organism -which is directly affected; unpleasantness indicates that the -impressions are ill adapted or harmful. Exceptions to this rule may be -explained through the great complexity of the situations by which the -organism is often confronted, and through the complications resulting -from the fact that the organism must adjust its activity not only to the -present but also to the future, and not only in harmony with the present -but also with past experience. Feeling is a reliable symptom and witness -only for the present and local utility or inadequacy of the relation -between the organism and the world. It is not a prophet of the future. -Disease may result from eating sweets, whereas medicine is often bitter.</p> - -<p>The addition of feeling to our perceptions and images, because of the -peculiarities just mentioned, brings about great complications in the -make-up of our mental states and increases enormously the task of -classifying and comprehending<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84"></a>{84}</span> our states of consciousness. The feelings -accompanying images are originally the same as those which accompanied -the perceptions in question. The memory image of the pain of flogging is -unpleasant because the original pain was unpleasant. But the manifold -connections of the images often result in unexpected feelings. The -memory of an unpleasant experience may become a source of pleasure -through the additional thought that the experience was the result of -some folly of which one is no longer capable. The feeling accompanying a -perception can change in a similar manner. A saturated green, as the -color of a pasture or of an ornament, is pleasant; as the color of a -girl’s cheek it would be highly unpleasant.</p> - -<p>Not only are perceptions and images themselves sources of pleasantness -and unpleasantness, but also their relations, spatial, temporal, and -conceptual. The pleasure which we derive from looking at a picture or a -landscape illustrates the dependence on spatial relations. The pleasure -of a symphony or dramatic performance depends largely on temporal -relations. Jokes and puzzles please us chiefly because of their -conceptual, logical relations. It is plain, then, that every complex of -sensations, supplemented by a large number of images, must become a -stage, so to speak, on which countless scores of feelings play their -parts. In so far as their perceptual and ideational bases may be kept -apart, we may count as many of these feelings as we distinguish percepts -or ideas. In so far as all these feelings are either pleasantness or -unpleasantness, we may speak of the feelings as being only two in -number. This may explain to us why such mental states as love, pride, -sentimentality, the joy of the audience in a theater, the interest of -the reader of a biography,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85"></a>{85}</span> appear at once simple enough, unitary -enough, and yet inexhaustibly replete with contents and difficult of -comprehension. This also explains the opposite views of so many writers, -of whom some assert that the number of feelings is infinitely large, -others that there are only two, pleasantness and unpleasantness, which -may accompany an infinite number of sensation complexes. The difference -between these writers is much less than appears from their words.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>77. How are pleasantness and unpleasantness related to sensational -states of consciousness?</p> - -<p>78. How are pleasantness and unpleasantness related to objective -conditions?</p> - -<p>79. How does the repetition of an experience influence its -pleasantness or unpleasantness?</p> - -<p>80. What is the general subjective condition of pleasantness and -unpleasantness?</p> - -<p>81. Is feeling a prophet of the future?</p> - -<p>82. What difficulties does the existence of feeling cause the -psychologist?</p> - -<p>83. Are there more than two feelings?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_7" id="hed_7">7</a>. <span class="smcap">Willing</span></h4> - -<p>Willing is usually mentioned as being a distinct class of mental states. -However, willing is not a special class in the sense in which -perceptions, images, and feelings are called classes. To understand -willing, let us consider certain typical actions of an infant which are -based on inborn nervous connections. What do we mean by the feeding -instinct? We mean unpleasant sensations of hunger and thirst followed by -various movements of arms<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86"></a>{86}</span> and legs, of crying, of sucking, until the -unpleasantness of the situation ceases. The movements themselves are -nothing mental. But while they are occurring they become known as -kinesthetic sensations, partly also as visual or auditory sensations. -Two classes of sensations may therefore be distinguished in any -instinctive activity: those which correspond to the sensory phase of the -reflexes in question, and those which result from the reflex movements. -After frequent occurrence of these reflex movements, images of various -parts of the whole satisfying process remain, and these, or some of -them, become conscious even before any of the movements occur. For -example, as soon as hunger is experienced the infant has also an image -of the bottle, of the mother bringing it, of his own movements of -grasping, sucking, and so on. The instinctive act has then been replaced -by an act of will. <i>Willing, therefore, may be defined as instinct which -foresees its end.</i></p> - -<p>No new kind of mental state can be discovered in willing. There is -nothing but sensations, feelings of pleasantness-unpleasantness, and -images. If we give to such a combination of these three kinds of mental -states the name of willing, we justify this new name by the fact that -such combinations are the most original, the earliest conscious states -which have occurred in our mental life. The first consciousness -accompanies instinctive activity, and immediately a simple form of -willing is made possible. From the genetic point of view, that is, if we -are interested in the growth of our consciousness, willing is the most -elementary form of consciousness. Perceptions, images, and feelings did -not exist separately for some months or years to become afterwards -united into willing. Willing was there when consciousness first awoke. -On the other hand, if we are interested in describing the make-up of our -present<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87"></a>{87}</span> mental life,—that is, from the point of view of the -psychologist searching for concepts of mental states,—sensations, -images, and feelings are the most elementary forms of consciousness.</p> - -<p>There is no will in the sense of a simple faculty, always remaining -identical with itself, merely changing its direction and now applying -itself to this thing, now to that thing. Will is an abstract word, -referring to that which is common to all states of willing; but, like -all abstractions, it does not possess any real existence apart from the -realities from which it has been abstracted, that is, from the -particular cases of willing occurring in each person’s life. Of course, -there is no objection to using the abstract word <i>will</i> without -explaining each time that it is an abstraction. We need not hesitate to -refer to typical differences between the cases of willing most -frequently observed in one person and those observed in another by -saying that one has a strong will, the other a weak, a vacillating will.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>84. How may willing be defined?</p> - -<p>85. Is willing an elementary kind of consciousness?</p> - -<p>86. Why is it wrong to answer the preceding question simply by yes -or no?</p> - -<p>87. What is the will?</p></div> - -<h3><a name="B_II" id="B_II"><i>B.</i></a> <i>THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF MENTAL LIFE</i></h3> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_8" id="hed_8">8</a>. <span class="smcap">Attention</span></h4> - -<p>A ship, under the influence of several forces—the screw, the wind, the -current—follows all of them simultaneously, and the place which it -reaches after a certain time is the same as that which it would have -reached if these forces had acted, each for the same length of time, but -one after<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88"></a>{88}</span> the other. External things, whenever they are under the -influence of several forces, are governed by the law of the resultant. -The mind’s mode of response is entirely different. When there are many -things to see, as a crowd of actors on the stage, many things to hear, -as a chorus and orchestra, and in addition some whispered words of our -neighbor, the result is by no means the same as if all these impressions -acted upon our mind successively. If time enough is given, our mind will -successively respond to each of these impressions of sight and hearing. -But if the response must occur quickly and be done with, it is -restricted to a part of the impressions made by the external objects. A -few of these impressions, specially favored by circumstances, affect our -consciousness at the expense of the others. The latter are not entirely -lost for our mind; but they fail to call forth separate responses, they -fuse into a mere background upon which the favored impressions make -their appearance. They are often spoken of as the fringe of the clearly -conscious mental states.</p> - -<p>One might call this selective effect the narrowness or focalness of -consciousness; in ordinary life it is called attention. We say that -attention is given to certain contents, and that the others are not -attended to, that they are under the influence of inattention. There is -no similar phenomenon in the whole inorganic world. In our mental life -nothing is more ordinary. I look up and notice many things. But many -more are projected upon my retina without succeeding in becoming -noticed. When reading a book I cannot accomplish everything that I wish -I could. Giving attention to the meaning, I fail to become conscious of -the beauty of style. Looking for typographical errors, I fail to -understand the logical connection of the sentences. For each purpose a -new reading is necessary. Mental work<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89"></a>{89}</span> requires the exclusion of piano -music and crying babies. Thinking is not so easy while we are performing -a gymnastic feat or walking at a rapid gait. When we are listening to -difficult music, we shut our eyes. When a momentous question, a -dangerous task, presents itself, we are in danger of losing our head; -that is, being occupied by ideas of the magnitude of the event, we fail -to become conscious of thoughts and memories of the simplest and most -ordinary kind.</p> - -<p>The popular view of attention is that it is an independent being, -separate from the contents of the mind. Attention stands at the helm, -and as the mind desires these or those contents, attention changes the -ship’s course. This, of course, is pure mythology. The enhancement and -impairment of impressions to which we refer in speaking of attention and -inattention are not a peculiar activity of mind; they are simply the -effects of peculiar relations existing between the impressions -themselves. A few of these relations may be briefly discussed.</p> - -<p>Whatever situation is capable of being a source of pleasantness or -unpleasantness, is also likely to become enhanced in vividness, so that -one may say that the value of an impression for our life of feeling is -one of the factors determining attention. Any remark of a person near -by, although merely whispered and hardly perceived by others, quickly -rises to a high degree of consciousness in my mind if it concerns my -reputation. That which we have experienced frequently, no longer causes -much pleasantness or unpleasantness; and in accordance with this, it is -not likely to be attended to.</p> - -<p>This parallelism between feeling and attention is expressed in the word -<i>interest</i>. We are interested in those things which conform to our -habits of thinking. Because<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90"></a>{90}</span> of this conformity they are useful to us at -the present moment of our life, and therefore pleasant. Because of this -conformity with our habits they become vividly conscious—they are -attended to. What is unrelated to our habits of thinking is not useful -to us at the moment and is therefore indifferent; and being unrelated, -it attracts no attention. Everybody knows how readily the average member -of a political party assents to the assertions made by the party leader, -how readily the adherent of a religious faith accepts instances proving -its correctness, how he unintentionally ignores anything which he cannot -accept without opposition or discomfort.</p> - -<p>Another factor determining attention is the relation of a new impression -to the thoughts occupying the mind at the moment when the impression was -made. That which is conscious prepares the path over which everything -related may enter. Ordinarily the ticking of a clock remains unnoticed. -But let the person think of the clock, or of time, and the next tick is -clearly perceived. In order to notice a weak tone in a complicated -chord, or a melody in polyphonic music, it is well to hear the tone or -the melody first in isolation and try to keep it in mind until the chord -or the music is played. A slight difference in the color of two leaves -remains unnoticed; but if we are thinking of a color difference just -before the leaves are shown to us, it becomes at once vivid in our -consciousness. The puzzle pictures common in certain popular magazines -would never convey the intended meaning to us, if we were not invited by -the text to think of various things which they might represent. If we -know beforehand in what order a lecturer will present his arguments to -us, we can pay attention to the lecture much more easily and understand -it better.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91"></a>{91}</span></p> - -<p>Attention is usually accompanied by numerous instinctive muscular -activities, which contribute toward the continuation and toward a -greater distinctness or intensity of the impression. When our visual -organs are stimulated, the head and the eyes turn so that the impression -may be received at the point of keenest vision. If the ear is -stimulated, the head turns so that both ears assume the most favorable -position with respect to the source of sound. When images occupy the -mind, the eyes are directed at an indifferent, uninteresting object, or -they are closed, the lips are pressed together, the limbs assume a -position of rest. All this tends to keep away avoidable stimulation of -the sense organs of the body. These instinctive movements are, of -course, perceived as kinesthetic sensations, as varied forms of strain, -of activity. Thus they give rise to the erroneous view that attention is -a peculiar activity of the mind’s own content. This view is most -emphatically expressed in the phrase “voluntary attention.” It often -happens that we become conscious of the muscular adaptation -characteristic of attention before the mental state to which attention -is given has appeared. For example, we see lightning and at once imagine -the thunder and the muscular adaptions of the ear and other parts of the -body which generally occur when it thunders. Or we hear our teacher’s -voice telling us that he will give an explanation, and we imagine the -strain, the activity of our muscles, which begins as soon as he starts -giving the explanation. This foreseeing of our activities we have above -called willing. <i>The foreseeing of our attention is the will to give -attention, is voluntary attention.</i></p> - -<p>It is a peculiar fact that vividness of a certain thought or even a -class of thoughts is never much prolonged.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92"></a>{92}</span> Other impressions or ideas -take the place of those which are now focal. Under the most favorable -conditions, the same ideas reappear again and again. This limited -duration of attention is most conspicuous in children and is one of the -greatest obstacles which the teacher has to overcome. Repeated orders to -be attentive are of small value. They tend to call up a general notion -of the matter which is being taught, and thus make it easier for the -ideas presented by the teacher to enter consciousness. But the effect is -not lasting because the very thought of being attentive cannot itself -have a long duration. It is therefore preferable to take into account -the nature of attending, and in accordance with it, to provide a certain -change in the ideas presented—to present the matter in an interesting -way.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>88. What essential difference between mental function and -mechanical function is referred to by the word <i>attention</i>?</p> - -<p>89. Can you illustrate the chief facts of attention and -inattention?</p> - -<p>90. Can you illustrate the parallelism between the laws of feeling -and of attention?</p> - -<p>91. How is attention mentally prepared for?</p> - -<p>92. How is attention assisted by special muscular activity?</p> - -<p>93. What causes the illusion that attention is a voluntary activity -of the mind upon its contents?</p> - -<p>94. What practical problems are connected with the law of the -duration of attention?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_9" id="hed_9">9</a>. <span class="smcap">Memory</span></h4> - -<p>While attention means limitation, memory means expansion. From the -enormous number of impressions calling simultaneously for response, the -mind selects a small group of those related to its present needs. But -the mind may go beyond the limits of that which is presented<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93"></a>{93}</span> and -respond to impressions of a former time. We then speak of memory. When I -hear the first verse of a poem which I have previously heard or read -more than once, I continue to hear, in imagination, the following verses -although the reader has stopped. When I see a black cloud drawing over -the sky and the trees bowing under the pressure of the wind, I know that -a thunderstorm is approaching. When I smell carbolic acid or iodoform, I -look for a person wearing a bandage. In every case the mind tends toward -expansion beyond the limits of the data presented at the moment. The -mind thus restores the connections in which the accidentally isolated -object of present interest has been experienced with other objects in -the past.</p> - -<p>We refer to this ability of expansion by the term <i>memory</i>, to the -actual process of expansion by <i>reproduction</i> or <i>association</i>. The -immense importance of memory for life is easily understood. Nature -repeats itself—not without some variations of the accompanying -phenomena; but no group of phenomena, aside from such variations, fails -to recur at frequent intervals. In reproducing what previously existed -under similar conditions, our mind possesses, as a rule, a real -knowledge of what now exists but happens to remain hidden, and of what -is about to occur. Thus our mind adapts itself to those parts of the -world which are for spatial or temporal reasons beyond the reach of our -sense organs.</p> - -<p>A special case of reproduction deserves to be mentioned because of its -frequency of application. Two things may possess one common part while -completely differing in other parts: for example, two words that rhyme, -or a photograph and an oil portrait, or either of these and the face of -the original. Let us call the parts of one thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94"></a>{94}</span> <i>abcd</i>, those of -another <i>cdef</i>. It easily happens that by mediation of the common parts, -<i>cd</i>, the train of thought is carried from <i>ab</i> to <i>ef</i>. Thus we may say -that our train of thought is determined, not only by simultaneity of -previous experience, which is often quite fortuitous, but also by -similarity, by essential connection, by relationship.</p> - -<p>The possibilities of reproduction are, of course, very numerous in each -case of experience. At present I see before me some books of reference, -on the hill at a distance a house partly hidden by trees, and many other -things. All these have previously been in my mind, each in various -temporal or essential connections with other things. An immense number -of images might therefore be reproduced now in my mind. That as a matter -of fact I do not become conscious of all of them needs no further -explanation. It has been spoken of before when we discussed the -limitation, the focalness of consciousness, that is, attention. We have -also stated some of the rules determining the selection among these many -possibilities. Let us here state these rules more definitely.</p> - -<p>Whatever tends to bring about strong feeling, also tends to be -reproduced. A brilliant success, but also a humiliating defeat, are not -easily forgotten. They are always lying in ambush, so to speak, ready -for the least opportunity. As in attention, so here even more, pleasant -thoughts show this tendency more strongly than unpleasant ones. What is -unpleasant is soon repressed. This is illustrated by such facts as the -healing power of time, the painting of the future in glowing colors, the -unfailing belief that advancing age has in the good old time.</p> - -<p>A second law governing reproduction may be called the set of the mind. -When a railway train enters a large station, there are many paths over -which it might<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95"></a>{95}</span> pass; but its actual path depends on the position which -was given to the switches immediately before the train’s arrival. In a -similar manner the path taken by the mind depends on the set established -just a few seconds or minutes before by the contents of the mind. If -during a conversation in English a French word is unexpectedly -pronounced by some one, the other people, though perfectly familiar with -the French language, may fail to understand it. The French sounds are -unexpected—the track is there, but the switch is not properly set—and -consequently the sounds remain ineffective. A certain book seen on my -desk calls up associated ideas very different from those which are -produced when I see it in the bookstore. The same thought leads to one -conclusion in the dark or in a dream, to another conclusion in daylight -or in the waking state. Every student is familiar with the difficulty of -becoming conscious of the right kind of ideas after having just gone -from one recitation room to another. After a few minutes the new set of -the mind is established, and the difficulty has disappeared.</p> - -<p>Many other factors are to be mentioned as influencing the train of -thought. During the last decades many experimental investigations have -been devoted, with much success, to their exact determination. Numerous -methods have been used, some being only slight modifications of the -conditions under which ideas are reproduced in ordinary life, others -being more artificial in order to yield answers to special questions to -which the other methods are not applicable. The common involuntary -reproduction of ideas by words or pictures shown has been used in order -to determine how this reproduction varies with different individuals -under different circumstances, how much time it requires, and so on. -Voluntary reproduction of impressions<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96"></a>{96}</span> that have just been made (as used -in school in dictation) has been used by presenting, optically or -through speech, words, syllables, numbers, or pictures and telling the -subject to write down everything remembered. The quantity of the matter -retained, and the number and kind of errors, then permit many important -conclusions. Also whole poems or pieces of prose have been memorized, -and answers have been found to questions as to the length of time -necessary for such memorizing under different conditions, and the number -of additional repetitions needed to make the material learned available -again after a greater number of days or weeks. The acquisition of the -vocabulary of a foreign language or of a set of historical dates has -been developed into a special method of hitting or missing. The material -to be learned has been presented in pairs, and the number of pairs has -been counted of which one element causes the mental reproduction of the -other. By all these methods psychologists have definitely secured many -rules which had been derived from earlier, less reliable experiences. -Many new facts have also been discovered. Let us give a brief account of -the results of this work.</p> - -<p>That which has been in consciousness most recently is, other conditions -being equal, reproduced most readily. For some time the memorized -material is reproduced so easily that it seems to have found a permanent -place in our mind. Soon, however, it begins to be forgotten. At first -this forgetting goes on with great rapidity; but it becomes slower and -slower, so that a person retains very little less after thirteen months -than after twelve. Even after twenty years definite traces of a single -former memorizing have been proved to exist. Nothing, therefore, is -likely to be completely lost, although voluntary reproduction has long -since become impossible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<p>The most important factor contributing toward certainty of reproduction -is frequent repetition, of course with attention, for without attention -no memorizing is possible. The experimental investigation of the -influence of repetition has yielded, among minor ones, two particularly -interesting results. One of them justifies an educational practice which -had already been adopted by teachers because it seemed to be advisable. -In order to memorize any material we should not try to force the desired -end by accumulated repetition without pause. It is much more economical -to devote a short time to learning, long enough for a few repetitions, -to do this again after a pause of some hours or days and again after the -same interval, until the desired effect is obtained. The total time -required for obtaining this effect would be much greater if the total -process of memorizing were to occur at one time without intermission.</p> - -<p>Another result of experimental investigation is contrary to the -tradition of educational practice. It has been proved that, in order to -learn a long poem, monologue, or piece of prose, this should not be -divided into smaller parts. It is uneconomical to learn each stanza or -sentence separately. The whole should always be read from the beginning -to the end, without introducing points of division which are not desired -at the time of reproduction.</p> - -<p>The method of involuntary reproduction has recently been applied to a -problem of much practical significance. The attempt has been made to -reveal thus associations of ideas which have been firmly established, -but which the subject has strong reasons for keeping secret, for -instance, the ideas forming the memory of a crime which he has -committed. He is asked to tell or write as quickly as possible a word -suggested by each of a great number of words<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98"></a>{98}</span> presented to him in -succession. Among these latter words are given some which have a special -relation to the knowledge which the subject is suspected of possessing. -If the suspicion is correct, it is likely to be shown in either of two -ways in the answers to these test words. Either the expected (for -instance incriminating) answers are actually given and reveal thus the -subject’s knowledge; or if these answers are inhibited and voluntarily -replaced by others of a more innocent appearance, the time of answering, -the reaction time, is considerably increased. It may also happen that -the subject, under these conditions, becomes confused and gives -absolutely meaningless answers.</p> - -<p>That the individual differences in the ability to memorize are very -great, has always been observed. Modern psychology, however, has added -to this knowledge an insight into the various kinds of differences and -their proper causes. Let us notice the perception and imagery types. -There are people who perceive and imagine very readily visual sensation -groups. They give attention to the shape and color of the things rather -than to any other sensible qualities, and they imagine visual shape or -color very vividly so that the right and left, the above and below, of -their imagery is clearly in their minds. In others auditory perception -and auditory imagery are very vivid; in a third class of persons the -same is to be said of kinesthetic mental states. We therefore -distinguish visual, auditory, and kinesthetic types of consciousness. -There may be also gustatory, olfactory, and other types, but they are of -little practical importance. Extreme cases, where one of these classes -of mental states is extraordinarily developed at the expense of all -others, are rare. Eminent ability in art or music probably depends on -such development. Generally, one kind of imagery is but slightly -superior to the rest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99"></a>{99}</span></p> - -<p>There seem to be further individual differences with respect to a -predominance of either word images or images of the things of nature. -All these differences bring about numerous variations of memory. The -visual type is able to play chess blindfolded, to repeat a memorized -series of numbers somewhat slowly also backwards. To the auditory type -these performances seem miraculous. But the former in recalling easily -confuses similar looking elements of such a memorized series, which the -latter would certainly distinguish because of their difference in sound. -The auditory type, however, confuses elements that are similar in sound -or accent. The auditory and kinesthetic types depend largely on reading -aloud for memorizing, while the visual type is scarcely aided by it. -These differences are of much importance for all the various kinds of -professional activity.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>95. In what respect is memory the opposite of attention?</p> - -<p>96. In what respect is reproduction by similarity superior to -reproduction by simultaneity of previous experience?</p> - -<p>97. Can you illustrate the relations between feeling and memory?</p> - -<p>98. What is meant by the set of the mind?</p> - -<p>99. Illustrate the dependence of memory on recency.</p> - -<p>100. Illustrate the two laws of repetition.</p> - -<p>101. What method has been devised for the diagnosis of memory which -is not voluntarily revealed?</p> - -<p>102. What is meant by perception or imagery types?</p> - -<p>103. Can you illustrate the practical importance of the types of -consciousness?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_10" id="hed_10">10</a>. <span class="smcap">Practice</span></h4> - -<p>The word <i>practice</i> refers to a number of different phenomena having -this in common, that they occur when the same mental function is -frequently repeated, either in immediate<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span> succession or with moderately -long intermissions. To a large extent practice is identical with the -selective and supplementing functions of the mind which are discussed -above. But certain effects included in the term <i>practice</i> cannot be -understood thus and must be regarded as the signs of a more fundamental -law of the mind. Setting aside, however, the distinction between -fundamental and secondary regularities of mental function, two facts -should be mentioned here.</p> - -<p>The more frequently the same task is imposed upon our mind, the more -perfectly—this is the first fact—is it carried out. But perfection has -various aspects. So far as sense perception is concerned, perfection -means a lowering of the so-called threshold of perception and of -discrimination, especially the latter. Weaker sounds, lights, tastes are -perceived; smaller differences of color, tone, weight, movement, size -are correctly named. Perfection means also greater quickness of -response. The same number of elements is perceived in less time, is -memorized or reproduced more quickly. The rapidity of reading, thinking, -writing, and other skillful movements is increased. Perfection means, -further, an enlargement of the scope of the situation responded to. We -are conscious of a greater number of its parts after having perceived a -certain thing repeatedly. Of different things a greater number are -simultaneously perceived. After repeated performance of a certain act, -we take into account a greater number of circumstances and adapt it to -them. That a certain activity which has been engaged in repeatedly can -be continued longer at one time, may also be mentioned in this -connection. So far as definite purposes are concerned, these are -accomplished more and more economically and accurately, that is, with -less expenditure<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span> of energy, with stricter avoidance of unnecessary -movements, with a decreasing number of errors.</p> - -<p>A second phenomenon of practice is the simplification of the conscious -processes preceding purposive action. Unless there are particular -causes, as anticipatory ideas or an extraordinary special interest, that -which has often occurred tends to remain unconscious, so that the -response may be called automatic. The ticking of a clock, the noise of a -street, the laughing of a mountain stream, soon cease to be attended to, -although attention to them is always possible. Reading, writing, -arithmetical work, when being learned, include a vast number of states -of consciousness which no longer occur when these activities are -performed by a grown person. After thousand-fold repetition great -rapidity of execution results from the omission of a multitude of mental -states without which the performance could not originally have been -brought about. But the original effects of those lost mental states are -not at all lost. The same movements are carried out with the same -accuracy as if they were governed by those mental states. Each single -letter, even each word, is not found in the consciousness of a person -who reads rapidly, and yet he pronounces the word correctly. Each single -note or printed chord is not in the consciousness of the pianist, and -yet he plays the chord correctly. The same holds for all complex -movements that are slowly learned and often repeated, as knitting, -sewing, swimming, horseback riding, dancing, skating. They finally -require a minimum of mental energy. They become comparable in this -respect to the native, instinctive movements; but in order to -distinguish them from the native movements independent of consciousness, -we call them automatic movements.</p> - -<p>Practice, therefore, is a general term referring to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span> wonderful -adaptation of mind to the external world for the purpose of -self-preservation. By association and reproduction mind adapts itself to -frequently recurring events and anticipates them. By practice it adapts -itself to those events which recur with particular frequency and which -are of particular importance. These events are through practice -comprehended more delicately, more quickly, and more inclusively. They -are responded to in a manner tested as the most fitting and most prompt, -and yet requiring only a minimum of mental energy, of which more than a -limited amount is at no time available. Without having to neglect the -ordinary and as such important, mind has energy left to devote to that -which is new, unusual, surprising.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>104. What are the effects of practice on sense perception?</p> - -<p>105. Illustrate how practice simplifies thought.</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_11" id="hed_11">11</a>. <span class="smcap">Fatigue</span></h4> - -<p>The conditions of fatigue are similar to those of practice. Fatigue -occurs when mental functions are repeated too many times in immediate -succession. But the result is not perfection, but deterioration of the -performance. The sensitivity for weak stimuli or small differences of -stimuli disappears. Attention is decreased, that is, fewer mental states -are vivid, and they are also less vivid. New ideas do not easily enter -consciousness. Reproduction, as in the processes of reading and -arithmetic, is slow and inaccurate. Action becomes slow and awkward, and -may cease altogether.</p> - -<p>Fatigue is obviously a protective measure. When the continued -performance of a task threatens to exhaust the organs, their resistance -to the call for action increases,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span> and finally they completely refuse to -respond. Because of the continuity of all organic processes, this -refusal in extreme cases is impossible without a lesser degree of -refusal before the extreme is reached. The first indications of fatigue -thus appear soon after a prolonged mental activity has begun, as a -diminution of the effects of practice. This leads often to the -astonishing consequence that a certain performance is executed better at -the beginning of a practice period than at the end of the preceding -period. The acquired practice is then still effective, while the effect -of fatigue is absent. This experience does not justify the conclusion -that skill has increased during the time of intermission.</p> - -<p>Because of the great importance of fatigue for mental and bodily health, -numerous investigators have in recent years undertaken to study it more -closely by experimental methods. Especially fatigue caused by school -work has been much under discussion in scientific and popular -periodicals and even in the daily press. Little progress, however, has -been made in our knowledge of fatigue. It has proved difficult to find -reliable methods of measuring it, and the great complexity of the -conditions has interfered with the interpretation of the experimental -results. The attempt has been made to measure mental fatigue indirectly -by measuring the muscular fatigue caused by repeatedly lifting a weight; -or by measuring the minimum distance of two touches on the skin -recognizable as two. Although there are probably relations of cutaneous -sensitivity and of muscular fatigue to mental fatigue, they are not -definitely known, and by some their very existence is doubted. Other -tests used for the measurement of fatigue are adding numbers of several -digits, adding a long series of digits, and taking dictation. In these -tests the mental<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span> work is very one-sided and too simple to permit -conclusions with regard to fatigue under ordinary conditions of mental -activity. A disturbing element in these tests is the rapid perfection of -the work under the influence of practice. If we choose more complicated -tasks such as translation into another language, mathematical problems, -or filling in words which have been omitted from a certain text, we -cannot easily make two tasks sufficiently alike to be able to compare -the results obtained from them.</p> - -<p>But none of these methods solve the chief problem, namely, the -determination of the point at which fatigue begins to be permanently -harmful. There is no doubt that in moderate degrees fatigue is a -perfectly normal phenomenon, involving no detriment to our future -efficiency. Otherwise most people would be wrecked before they are fully -grown. The experience of athletes and soldiers shows that even rather -high degrees of fatigue are compatible with the normal growth of bodily -strength. The same may be true for mental life. The assertions of great -damage done to children by school work are—so far as normal children -are concerned—certainly greatly exaggerated.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>106. What are the effects of fatigue?</p> - -<p>107. Into what complication does fatigue enter with practice?</p> - -<p>108. What attempts have been made at measuring fatigue?</p> - -<p>109. What is the chief problem in connection with fatigue?</p> - -<p>110. Is the fatigue of school work harmful?</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="C_II" id="C_II"><i>C.</i></a><i>THE EXPRESSIONS OF MENTAL LIFE</i></h3> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_12" id="hed_12">12</a>. <span class="smcap">Perception and Movement</span></h4> - -<p>The impression upon the mind is not the ultimate end of the nervous -processes originating in the sense organs. The end is rather activity of -the motor organs of the body, which we may here, accepting the naïve -conception of matter and mind, regard as effects or expressions of mind. -The complications of the mental life of a grown person tend to make this -connection between mind and motor activity often obscure and doubtful. -It seems that often we receive impressions quite passively. Nevertheless -the connection exists. Every impression made upon the mind by the -external world is in some way responded to by movement. The movement may -occur in the stimulated sense organ itself, in the arms, the hands, the -fingers, the legs, the feet, the head, the vocal organs, also in the -internal organs, the heart, the blood vessels, the alimentary canal, the -lungs. The significance of many of these movements is but insufficiently -understood, for example, laughing, weeping, blushing, trembling. But -those movements which directly affect the organism’s surroundings are -easily understood. They may be classed under two headings, -self-preservation and play. Another way of classifying them is to -distinguish movement toward the object perceived and movement away from -the object, without taking these terms in too literal a sense.</p> - -<p>Innumerable illustrations for these classes of movements suggest -themselves. A piece of bread put on the back of the tongue is moved down -the esophagus by the proper muscular contractions. A particle moving -into the wrong passage is thrown out again by coughing. If the palm of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span> -an infant is gently stroked, the hand closes and takes hold of the -stroking finger. If the palm is scratched, the hand quickly recedes. A -mild and steady light attracts the child’s eye, which follows the -movements of the light. From an intense and flickering light the eye -turns away. A piece of sugar is kept in the child’s mouth and moved -about by the tongue until it is dissolved. A bitter root causes the lips -to recede and the tongue to make a pushing movement. If the child is -hungry, he cries, kicks, and strikes out with his arms until he is fed. -After being fed he lies still so that digestion is not interfered with -by the blood being drawn into the peripheral parts of the body.</p> - -<p>Movements which do not serve self-preservation so directly are called -play. When a cat perceives a mouse, she jumps at it and catches it. But -before eating it, she usually lets it loose and catches it again, and so -on several times. When she finds a ball of yarn, she treats it -similarly, although she must know that it is not edible. A dog gnaws a -bone because this contributes to his nutrition. But he also gnaws table -legs and rugs, although these have no nutritive value. He chases rabbits -and other small animals which he can eat. But he chases no less eagerly -other dogs, wagons, cyclists, horses, none of which serve as articles of -food for him. The same is true for man. The infant’s kicking, the small -child’s breaking of his toys, do not have any immediate value. Men and -animals respond to things not only by fighting, but also by play. The -significance of playful movements is to be found in the exercise, the -development, and the conservation of the abilities given to them by -nature. As in the movements of self-preservation, so in play -pleasantness and unpleasantness make their appearance. Extensive -exercise of natural<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span> abilities is highly pleasant, enforced inactivity -equally unpleasant.</p> - -<p>But play is more than a general exercise of the bodily organs. It is a -preparation for the specialized activities of the serious part of life. -The animal meets in play things which behave very much like those things -which it has to obtain for food. So it learns to obtain food at a time -when food is not yet needed. It learns to defend itself when no one yet -attacks it. The biological significance of the play movements obviously -consists in this preparation for the special activities of life. Those -animals which do not possess a strong tendency to play are thus at a -disadvantage in the struggle for life, because they miss the opportunity -for preparation. Serious activity and play accompany man and animal all -through life; but the proportion changes. The young are taken care of by -their parents, and play may therefore prevail. With maturity this -changes, and less time is left for play.</p> - -<p>All these movements of self-preservation and of play are natural -inherited responses of the organism to its environment. Many of them do -not appear at the very entrance into life, but at different stages of -age and growth. They are the raw material from which all conduct is -derived and built up. Their nervous conditions are the nervous processes -in the reflex arches of the subcortical nerve centers. From the points -of sensory stimulation, the nervous processes are carried into definite -muscle groups so that definite movements occur. These movements are -called <i>reflexes</i> or <i>instincts</i> according as they are rather simple or -more complex. Both reflexes and instincts are inherited movements -following in direct response upon sensory stimulation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>111. What is the ultimate end of every nervous process?</p> - -<p>112. What are typical movements of self-preservation?</p> - -<p>113. What are typical movements of play?</p> - -<p>114. Is play more than a general exercise of the body?</p> - -<p>115. Are all inherited movements possible immediately after birth?</p> - -<p>116. What is the difference between reflexes and instincts?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_13" id="hed_13">13</a>. <span class="smcap">Thought and Movement</span></h4> - -<p>Consciousness is not a factor in reflex or instinctive movements. But -these movements soon enter into a twofold connection with consciousness. -(1) When such movements occur, they often result in consciousness. They -are either seen, or perceived through the sense of touch or through the -kinesthetic sense. These images of the movement become associated with -the images originating from the sensory stimulations which give rise to -the movement. (2) In consequence of this association the visual, touch, -and kinesthetic images of the movement, particularly the most common, -the kinesthetic, may themselves produce this movement to which they owe -their existence. The mere thought of how one feels when performing a -movement brings about, if it is vivid enough, the movement itself. The -hearing of dance music awakens the kinesthetic ideas of dancing, and -these become real movements, although perhaps only swaying movements of -the body or the head. Vivid thinking similarly brings about whispering -of words. Even vivid imagination of the movement of a foreign body has -such powers. A passionate and excited billiard player thinks of the -hoped-for movement of the running ball. This leads to imagery of a -similar movement of his own body, and the result is the actual -movement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span> rather ridiculous to the onlooker because it is entirely -purposeless.</p> - -<p>Through this connection with consciousness instinctive movements become -voluntary movements. The term <i>voluntary</i> means just this connection -with consciousness; it has no other meaning.</p> - -<p>Suppose a child sees something white and glittering and puts it -instinctively into his mouth. It happens to be a lump of sugar. Its -taste is pleasant. It is retained, dissolved, and swallowed. All the -impressions, occurring at about the same time, become associated: the -sight of the thing, the movements of the arm and hand, the taste, the -movements of the tongue and the lips. The more frequently this thing -happens, the more firmly established are the associations. Later the -sight of sugar reproduces at once its taste, the visual and kinesthetic -images of the movements, and the movements themselves—the arm is -stretched out, the tongue and lips making sucking movements—although -the sugar may be lying so far away that it cannot be touched. The -child’s consciousness then contains what we have previously called will, -and what may also be called desire: a vivid impression accompanied by -pleasantness, sensations of restlessness, and an image of a pleasant -conclusion of the whole experience. We say then that the child wills, -desires, to have the sugar.</p> - -<p>We can will to do only that which in its elements we have previously -done by instinct. If we do not know how a movement feels when we perform -it, of course we cannot bring it about by way of our consciousness, that -is, by our will. Children have as much command of speech as they have -acquired by instinctively producing speech sounds in response to -accidental stimulations. This instinctive production occurs usually -rather late in the case of certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span> sounds, as <i>k</i>, <i>r</i>, <i>sh</i>; and -accordingly, in spite of all special efforts on the part of the parents, -children learn to produce those sounds only at that late time. We -presuppose, of course, that they are not deaf. For in deaf children the -speech sounds instinctively produced do not enter into an association -with the kinesthetic sensations and therefore cannot be voluntarily -reproduced; that is, the children remain dumb. Many a grown person -remembers that all his attempts at learning the pronunciation of a -certain sound in foreign speech (take for example the gutteral German -<i>r</i>, or the German <i>ch</i>, or the French nasal sounds) were in vain until -by a mere accident, instinctively, he pronounced that very sound. After -that he had command of it.</p> - -<p>This interweaving of the instinctive reactions of the body with -conscious life is of the greatest practical significance. However well -adapted the inherited reflexes may be to the purpose of keeping the -young animal alive, they are very insufficient in meeting the ever -growing complications of life. And they are not perfect even in the -beginning. A reflex is the response to a present and direct impression -upon the organism; but very similar impressions may come from things of -different properties. Poisonous substances often look and taste like -articles of food. The enemy assumes the attitude of a friend welcoming -you. Reflex action is powerless to give the organism the protection -needed in such cases. Instinct is easily deceived. But as soon as the -harmful consequences impress themselves upon the organism, the instinct -is modified, and in the future these consequences will be avoided. The -instincts are ready-made institutions intended to be applied to average -conditions. Their readiness and completeness is in so far of inestimable -advantage to the organism. If it had to learn everything necessary for -life, it could not survive.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span> But for the manifold deviations of the -external world from the average no provision can be made in this manner.</p> - -<p>The variation of the organism’s response is made possible by the -existence of higher nerve centers, that is, of connecting neurons of a -higher order, more remote from the sensory and motor points of the body. -Let us imagine the proverbial reaction of a child to the sight of a -flame, and discuss the successive stages of development by the help of -figure 15. (1) The visual stimulation starts a nervous process from -<i>s<sub>1</sub></i>, which passes through the bulb and spinal cord into the muscles -of the arm at <i>m<sub>1</sub></i>. A small part of the current may branch off at <i>a</i> -and, instead of passing down towards <i>b</i>, take the direction of <i>v</i>. But -the resistance in this direction is for the present so high that only an -insignificant part of the process can take this way, and so no -corresponding motor response is noticeable.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_15" id="fig_15"></a></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 187px;"> -<a href="images/i_111_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_111_sml.png" width="187" height="248" alt="Fig. 15.—“A Burnt Child fears the Fire.”" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 15.—“A Burnt Child fears the Fire.”</span> -</div> - -<p>(2) While all this is still going on and the child’s arm is still moving -forward, the heat of the flame acts as a pain stimulus at <i>s<sub>2</sub></i>. The -nervous process produced passes over <i>c</i> and <i>d</i> to the muscles at -<i>m<sub>2</sub></i>, whose contraction results in the arm’s being pulled back. This -results in a third stimulation at <i>s<sub>3</sub></i>, which we need not trace -farther here. But not the whole of the nervous process passes from <i>c</i> -down to <i>d</i>. A part of it, of considerable absolute magnitude because of -the intensity of stimulation, passes from <i>c</i> up<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span> to <i>p</i> and thence over -<i>k</i> down to <i>d</i> and finally also into <i>m<sub>2</sub></i>. This process going from -<i>p</i> to <i>k</i>, according to a general law of nervous activity, tends to -attract other, weaker nervous processes, if the neuron connections make -this possible. Consequently the nervous process from <i>s<sub>1</sub></i> to <i>a</i> is -now turned mostly into the path <i>a-v-p</i> and only an insignificant part -of it continues to go from <i>a</i> towards <i>b</i>. The consequence is that the -resistance of the path <i>a-v-p-k-d</i> is soon reduced to less than the -resistance of the path <i>a-b</i>. The great significance of this fact -becomes clear in the third stage of development.</p> - -<p>(3) At some later time the flame again acts as a visual stimulus. But -now, because of the change of resistance just explained, the nervous -process takes for the most part the path over <i>a-v-p-k-d</i>, and the -reaction follows at <i>m<sub>2</sub></i> instead of at <i>m<sub>1</sub></i>. The child has learned -to avoid the flame. The child, when seeing the flame, is conscious of -the pain, as imagery, without having to receive the actual stimulation -at <i>s<sub>2</sub></i>.</p> - -<p>Thus the inflexible regularity of reaction gives place to another type -of reaction, an adaptation, not only to those conditions which at the -time make their impression upon the organism, but also to those -conditions which are mere future possibilities. The experience of the -past guides the organism into the future.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>117. What is the twofold connection into which instinctive movement -enters with consciousness?</p> - -<p>118. Why is the movement of a billiard ball often accompanied by -movements of the players or spectators?</p> - -<p>119. What is a voluntary movement?</p> - -<p>120. In what manner is will dependent on instinct?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span></p> - -<p>121. Why do deaf children not acquire speech? Can they be taught to -speak?</p> - -<p>122. Why is the acquisition of foreign speech sounds by grown -people often so slow?</p> - -<p>123. What is the advantage to the organism of voluntary over -instinctive action?</p> - -<p>124. Can you describe the three stages of nervous development -illustrating the proverb “A burnt child fears the fire”?</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> -<small>COMPLICATIONS OF MENTAL LIFE</small></h2> - -<h3><a name="A_III" id="A_III"><i>A.</i></a> <i>THE INTELLECT</i></h3> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_14" id="hed_14">14</a>. <span class="smcap">Perception</span></h4> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_1-4" id="sbhed_1-4">1.</a> <i>Characteristics of Perception</i></h5> - -<p><span class="smcap">At</span> every moment of waking life a multitude of impressions are received -by the mind through the eyes, the ears, the cutaneous and all other -senses, giving information about processes in the external world and in -the subject’s own body. However, because of the peculiar laws of mental -activity, the actual conscious experience differs greatly from a mere -sum of all those impressions—from what would be the content of -consciousness if mind were nothing but an accumulation of senses. In -order to distinguish the actual consciousness from the abstractly -conceived sum of sensations, we use as a specific term the word -<i>perception</i>.</p> - -<p>Does not a newspaper look different if held in the right way or turned -upside down, a landscape if seen in the ordinary way or through our -legs? In the latter case there are in our consciousness a multitude of -incomprehensible details, lines, figures, colors; in the former we are -conscious of one thing, a landscape, with its divisions, each of these -divisions with its subdivisions, and so on. The one consciousness is -practically the result only of simultaneous<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span> sensory stimulations; the -other consciousness, in addition to these stimulations, is determined by -the laws of organized mind, by attention, memory, practice.</p> - -<p>A percept contains both less and more than the sensations corresponding -directly to the stimulations. According to the conditions discussed -under attention, certain sensations become focal at the expense of -others which become marginal. For example, of all things impressing -themselves upon my retina, only a few—usually, but not always, those in -the center of the field of vision—attain a high degree of -consciousness. And of these things again not all the qualities, but only -a few become highly conscious. If, as in this case, the visible things -happen to become highly conscious, the simultaneously existing audible -or tastable things are apt to remain at a low degree of consciousness. -That which is important for the needs of our daily life is specially -favored and becomes a part of the percept. That which has no practical -importance does not easily become a highly conscious part of the present -mind. The variations in color of a gown forming many folds are rarely -noticed. All parts of the gown are perceived as parts of the same -substance. That the whole gown is made of one kind of cloth is -practically important. That the various folds appear to the eye—because -of the variation of the illumination—somewhat different, is of no -practical consequence. Many quite common phenomena, after-images, -overtones, difference tones, are never known by the majority of people, -because of their practical unimportance.</p> - -<p>But a percept contains not only less, but also much more than the -sensations corresponding to the stimuli of the moment. Numerous images -are woven into this system of sensations and thus give additional -meaning to it. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span> may be said to <i>see</i> that the things are hot or cold, -rough or smooth, heavy or light, although our eyes as mere sense organs -cannot give us any such information. In the same way we may be said to -see that the things are at this or that distance from our head, and that -this thing is nearer, that thing farther from us, although our inherited -ability to see things spatially does not give us any other information -than that of shape and size in the field of vision. By incessantly -repeated experiences we have learned, at an early age, that changes in -the distance of things which in this or that way have come to our -knowledge, are regularly accompanied by definite changes in their size, -their coloring, their appearance when the right eye’s image is compared -with the left eye’s image, and many similar changes of the impression. -Whenever such signs of changes in the distance are impressed upon our -mind, we immediately supplement them by ideas of the distances -themselves. Thus our original two-dimensional perception of space is -expanded into a three-dimensional perception.</p> - -<p>All knowledge of things, of their properties, their names, their uses, -their meanings, consists in supplementing our consciousness of those -qualities which they present to our senses, by images previously -obtained through any senses. The force of this supplementing can be -understood from the drawings of children and primitive peoples. That -which appears in the field of vision is often left unrepresented. Linear -perspective, for instance, does not exist in such drawings, although it -is a part of the sensory impression. On the other hand, many things are -given by the draughtsman which are invisible under the circumstances of -the situation, but which he regards as essential parts of the thing -because of their practical importance: for instance, both eyes of a -person seen in profile, equal length<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span> of all the legs of tables and -chairs, equal size of things at a distance and things near by.</p> - -<p>The significance of this supplementing by ideas is illustrated also in -pathological cases. It happens that some of the associative connections -in the brain are destroyed by disease, reducing the mind to a condition -like that of early childhood, when direct sense impressions alone -determined action. Patients may see the shape and color of a thing -correctly, may even be able to draw it or paint it, but are unable to -tell the name of the object, although they are perfectly familiar with -it. They cannot answer our question as to what purpose the thing serves; -possibly they give ridiculous answers, fitting an altogether different -thing. Only when they are permitted to use the kinesthetic and tactual -senses by taking the thing in their hands, do they recognize it. In -other cases the patient, although possessing his normal sensibility to -touch, is unable to recognize things by his hands alone, but recognizes -them at once when permitted to open his eyes.</p> - -<p>A particularly characteristic feature of our perception is the grouping -together into a mental unit of elements which are not united either -spatially by contiguity or nearness, or by similarity of their coloring, -or their other attributes. The grouping of such elements into a unitary -mental state is often the result of a repeated necessity for reacting -upon this sum of impressions by a unitary movement. The newspaper held -upside down does not invite the reaction of reading. Parts which are -separated by blank spaces or by black bars, are separately perceived. -But the words and sentences are not perceived, because we have not -previously been obliged to read under such conditions. Looking into a -furnished room I perceive at once tables, chairs, and other pieces of -furniture, although the legs of a chair, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span> example, are spatially and -by their coloring better connected with the carpet than with the back of -the chair. When I am looking at a portrait standing upside down, the -dark hair and the dark background become a mental unit, a percept of a -dark area. The light face is another mental unit. In upright position -the hair separates from the background and unites with the face. I then -perceive a person before a dark background, in spite of the similarity -of coloring between some parts of the figure and the background, in -spite of the difference of coloring between some parts of the figure and -other parts. The grouping of the elements in perception is therefore -widely different from that which would result from the stimuli directly. -It is determined by our habits of reaction upon such groups as -frequently appear together in the world in which we live.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_16" id="fig_16"></a></p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 154px;"> -<a href="images/i_118_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_118_sml.jpg" width="154" height="108" alt="Fig. 16.—Two Possibilities of Perception." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 16.—Two Possibilities of Perception.</span> -</div> - -<p>Let us illustrate this by two figures. <a href="#fig_16">Figure 16</a> may be perceived as a -rabbit’s or as a duck’s head. When we perceive the figure as a rabbit’s -head, the white streaks to the right of the eye are two separate -sensation groups, each of them unified with respect to the effect -produced by them in our nervous system. They are then the animal’s lips. -At the same time the protrusions to the left make us conscious of -softness, warmth, flexibility. Now perceive the figure as a duck’s head. -Immediately those white streaks cease to be two separate units for our -mind. Together with the darker parts surrounding them, they affect our -mind as a single unit, the variegated back part of the duck’s head. And -at the same time the protrusions to the left make us conscious of -hardness, cold,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span> rigidity. The sensory stimulations are exactly the -same, but they are differently grouped together, and they bring about -further nervous activities which greatly differ in these two -perceptions.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_17" id="fig_17"></a></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 177px;"> -<a href="images/i_119_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_119_sml.png" width="177" height="203" alt="Fig. 17.—Varieties of Perception." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 17.—Varieties of Perception.</span> -</div> - -<p><a href="#fig_17">Figure 17</a>, when shown to a person, is perceived as the result of a -child’s careless handling of his ink bottle, as an ink spot. But ask -this person if he does not see a boy falling downstairs, and immediately -certain elements are grouped together and affect us as being the legs, -other elements of sensation are perceived as the arms, and so on. And -now suggest to the same person to turn the page slightly to the right -and see a man trying to put on his shirt. Quickly the perception changes -again; but this time not so much by the breaking up of the former units -into their sensory elements and the formation of new units, as by a -change of the accompanying ideas. The previous suggestion tends to make -us perceive these sensations in one or the other way because it guides -our attention. But this guidance is possible only because certain groups -of sensational elements (for example, the groups illustrated by our -figures) have very often occurred in our mind in consequence of the fact -that they originate from external objects which have often been -presented to our sense organs among greatly varying surroundings. Thus -we have learned to group these elements together and to neglect, more or -less, all other elements which may be presented simultaneously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span></p> - -<p>The total process of selective grouping and of furnishing the groups -formed with additional mental contents has often been called -<i>apperception</i>. But this meaning of the term apperception is not -universally adopted. Some mean by apperception mainly the selective -grouping of the elements, others mean by it exclusively the furnishing -with ideational contents. Because of its ambiguity the term -<i>apperception</i> has been entirely omitted from the present book, and the -term <i>perception</i> is used in its broadest sense, including both the -processes just mentioned. Perception thus means the working over by the -mind of any aggregate of sensational elements given at the time through -the sense organs.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_2-4" id="sbhed_2-4">2.</a> <i>Illusions</i></h5> - -<p>While the laws of perception are, on the whole, of the greatest benefit -to the organism surrounded by a confusing multitude of physical elements -bound together into a large number of more or less stable compounds, of -things, there are exceptional cases in which these same laws lead the -mind into a reaction not suitable to the situation presented.</p> - -<p>That which has often occurred is likely to recur. But it does not -regularly recur in the same manner. There are exceptions. It happens -that certain things occur in surroundings different from their usual -surroundings. These things are then perceived, that is, grouped together -and supplemented by images, in harmony with their usual surroundings. -But the perception is then in discord with the actual surroundings. To -the inhabitant of the plains the colors of things appear rather -saturated, and the outlines sharp, when these things are at a small -distance from the observer. Walking toward them, he is soon able to lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span> -hands on them. But when the air happens to be unusually moist, and -because of its diminished weight, free from the particles of dust which -have settled because of their weight, things look unusually near, and on -walking toward them he discovers that it takes more time to reach them -than he expected. The same happens when he goes to the mountains for his -vacation, because there the air is always comparatively free from dust. -We have here a foreseeing of what ordinarily becomes the subsequent -experience, but fails to become it in this instance.</p> - -<p>There is another kind of illusion based on the fact that sensations -which have been imagined just before the stimuli became effective, are -thereby favored and become unusually vivid. This law of attention holds -good also when the stimuli are not in exact correspondence with the -preceding images. In such a case the perception is more or less -assimilated to those images, so that the same stimuli result in somewhat -different percepts according to circumstances. “How heavy it is!” said a -friend of Davy’s, when the discoverer of potassium placed a little piece -of this metal on his finger. Potassium is so light that it floats on -water, but the metallic appearance produced the image of pressure and -changed the sensation into a percept of something heavy. When two pieces -of gray paper, equally bright but of slightly different coloring, are -put before me side by side, and I ask myself: is not the yellowish paper -lighter than the bluish paper, immediately it seems to be lighter. But I -begin to doubt and ask myself: is not the yellowish paper darker than -the other; and immediately it looks darker.</p> - -<p>Let no one say that this is only “imaginary,” meaning by this word that -there are in my mind both the objectively true impression and an -incorrect image of something<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span> similar. Such is not the case. There is no -duality of consciousness. There is one unitary experience. Only -scientific reflection reveals the fact that this unitary experience has -two sources, one in the external stimulation, the other in the central -nervous excitation. The result of these sources, the percept, does not -betray the doubleness of its origin any more than a stream at its mouth -shows the doubleness of its sources. It is a universal property of -perception to be determined not by sensory stimulation alone, although -this is the primary factor, but also by images, by nervous dispositions. -The more vivid such images, the greater is their influence—now and then -their <i>deceptive</i> influence—on our consciousness of the objectively -existing. Suggestion is a name which has recently been accepted for such -an influence. Illusion is another name for it, in case it is rather -pronounced and ill adapted to the object.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>125. What kinds of mental states are called perceptions?</p> - -<p>126. Illustrate the change of a percept into a mental state not -worthy of the name, caused by a change of the situation which -involves neither a subtraction nor an addition of stimuli.</p> - -<p>127. What impressions become a part of the percept, and what -impressions do not?</p> - -<p>128. Show that a percept contains not only less, but also more than -the sensations corresponding to the stimuli of the moment.</p> - -<p>129. What can we learn about perception from the drawings of -children?</p> - -<p>130. Illustrate the perception of a thing whose parts appear -spatially separate. (None of the illustrations in the text strictly -answers this question.)</p> - -<p>131. What changes occur when a rabbit’s head is perceived as a -duck’s head?</p> - -<p>132. Are illusions signs of mental abnormality? What are they?</p> - -<p>133. What two classes of illusions are distinguished in the text?</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span></p> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_15" id="hed_15">15</a>. <span class="smcap">Ideation</span></h4> - -<p>The same laws which govern the supplementing of impressions by images, -govern also the supplementing of images by other images. We refer to the -appearance of images supplementing other images by the word -<i>remembering</i>, or <i>ideation</i>.</p> - -<p>What we remember is always deficient in details compared with what we -perceive. Remember a landscape, a street scene, a well-known person. -Innumerable details are always lacking in the idea, although they were -present in the corresponding percept. These details which are lacking -may be either parts separable from the object, or mere attributes of -sensation inseparable from the sensation. On the other hand, ideas are -richer than percepts. They contain elements obtained from other similar -perceptions and added by association, as when the idea of a landscape is -enriched by a tower, the idea of a person by a beard, which actually are -not present at these places.</p> - -<p>Ideas are also strongly influenced and altered by other ideas which -happen to be in consciousness at the same time (“set of the mind”); for -instance by questions, particularly by questions in the negative -form—“did you not,” “was this not,”—by the wish to make a good -impression upon others, and by similar factors. We may have no intention -of exaggerating, in Falstaff’s fashion, the significance of our deeds; -nevertheless our memories become gradually modified so that the -uncommon, the important, the valuable in them is emphasized, and the -common, the insignificant, the unpleasant is obliterated. Wherever our -memories are fragmentary and indefinite, they offer but slight -resistance to questions attacking this point, for instance:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span> Do you -believe that the gentleman was as tall as you are?</p> - -<p>Memories are thus, not exceptionally, but universally inaccurate -representations of that which has been perceived. This has recently been -proved by direct experimental tests. Since percepts, although they rest -on a foundation of external stimulation, are so strongly influenced by -the mind’s own manner of functioning, the existence of this influence in -the case of imagery, lacking such a foundation, is not surprising. -Although memories are but rarely totally misleading, mankind has long -ago learned to rely upon memory in all important business and legal -transactions only when there is agreement between the memories of -several witnesses. The changeableness of memory is particularly strong -in the child’s mind. The perceptual experiences have not been so often -repeated as in the adult mind, and the practical importance of accuracy -of remembering has not made itself so much felt. For both reasons the -child’s memory is very unreliable.</p> - -<p>The word <i>imagination</i> is frequently used to signify a specially strong -ability to modify memories by associated images. Thus we speak of the -imagination of the child—but also of the artist and the scientist. -Without imagination the scientist would not succeed in his task of -making the phenomena of nature more comprehensible by showing the -consequences of the remotest relations between things. It is clear, -however, that imagination is not a fundamental “faculty” of the mind, -separable from other “faculties,” but a result of the fundamental laws -governing mental functions.</p> - -<p>Let us turn to the fragmentary nature of reproduced experience and -discuss its significance. That previous experience can be reproduced -only in fragments is the direct<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span> result of the selective power of -attention, which asserts itself in both perception and ideation. Not -every quality of a thing presented is equally interesting. A child -having a watch takes interest mainly in the ticking and in the glitter -of the golden case. Meeting a dog, he gives attention to the terrifying -bark and the multiplicity of legs. Suppose now that the dog regularly -occurred together with a special impression, perhaps a spoken word; then -the recurring of this symbol will tend to reproduce in the child’s mind -the image of the dog. But the pressure of many competing tendencies does -not permit the reproduction of all the qualities of the dog which have -become conscious on former meetings with this animal. Only an extract, -so to speak, of these qualities is reproduced, and this is made up of -those which were formerly especially interesting,—the bark and the -legs.</p> - -<p>Another factor determining the selection of special qualities of a thing -for reproduction is the frequency with which each quality reappears in -things which are different in certain respects, but in other respects -belong to the same class. The trees of a forest beside which I am -walking have many individual differences. But certain features are -common to all the trees. These common features reappear again and again, -while each of the other features appears only now and then. The same can -be said of various dogs met on the street, of various tones of a violin, -and so on. If the perception of the trees is experienced together with a -certain other percept which may serve as a symbol for the trees, for -example the word <i>tree</i>, the association of the symbol with those -regularly repeated qualities becomes firmly established, whereas the -association with the other, more or less varying qualities, remains -comparatively feeble. The result is that the symbol<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span> tends to reproduce -almost exclusively the former qualities. These come to make up a -separate group of images, a general idea.</p> - -<p>The laws of attention, practice, and memory, together with the simple -uniformity of nature just mentioned, produce thus a peculiar result. -They remove ideation from the accidents of external events in an -incomparably higher degree than perception. They bring about ideas of -the separate qualities of the things perceived, <i>abstractions</i>, and -ideas of common features, <i>general ideas</i>. In many cases an idea is both -an abstraction and a general idea. Examples of such ideas to which no -equally simple concrete object corresponds, are the idea of a mere -length, the color red, sight, a dog in general, a tree in general.</p> - -<p>These ideas are of eminent importance for all higher mental development. -Mind, in them, departs from that which nature presents, but only in -order to take possession of it more securely by systematization and by -overcoming the narrow limits of the capacity of consciousness.</p> - -<p>By separating the common qualities of things from those which vary we -classify the things into kinds and species, we think of them as being in -various ways related. Instead of having an incomprehensible mass of -things standing side by side, we have a system of coördinated and -subordinated things, of groups formed according to closer or remoter -relationship; and thus it becomes a comparatively easy matter to survey -the multitude of things of which nature consists. Not only order, but -law too is thus brought into the phenomena of nature. If we collect -sticks of wood and set fire to the pile, we notice that some of them -burn lustily, others smolder and smoke, still others do not burn at all. -Why so? Repetition of similar experiences is necessary before we can -give an answer; but mere repetition of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span> same event does not enable -us to give the answer. The event must be broken up and general ideas -must be formed out of the elements of the event. Then only can we answer -the question. Some of the sticks burn because they are dry. Others do -not burn so well or do not burn at all because they are wet. Neither -shape nor color nor origin nor many other qualities of the sticks have -any causal connection with the difference of burning and not burning. -Both order and law in nature are recognized by abstraction.</p> - -<p>Equally important is the overcoming of the narrowness of consciousness -by abstraction and generalization. When I am thinking of trees, the -contents of my mind are very few. There may be a word image, a visual -image of something tall and branching; hardly more. All the special -features of trees of all kinds are absent from consciousness. So I can -easily think of additional things, for instance of the age which trees -may reach, or the elevation at which trees cease to grow. But the moment -I begin by accident to think of a thing which does not harmonize with -those features of the tree which thus far have been absent from -consciousness, immediately those features become conscious and inhibit -the contradictory thoughts. They have been unconscious and yet we cannot -say that they have been sheer nothing. The consciousness of the general -idea has in some way prepared the path for the special features from -which it has been abstracted. They have been carried close to the door -of consciousness, so to speak, and the slightest impulse coming from an -associated idea will cause them to enter. This is our meaning when we -say that within the general idea of which we are conscious all those -special features are included. They are included by representation, the -general idea being the deputy taking care of their interests. Thus our -mind is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span> freed from the necessity of carrying at any moment a heavy load -of actual states of consciousness and is nevertheless able to act as -reasonably as if those mental states were present. In using -representative ideas, our mind has actually at its service the enormous -number of all those individual ideas which are represented by them.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>134. Enumerate in what different respects ideation is (more or -less) similar to perception.</p> - -<p>135. Why are reproduced experiences fragmentary?</p> - -<p>136. How does a general idea originate?</p> - -<p>137. What is the difference between abstractions and general ideas?</p> - -<p>138. Can an idea be both an abstraction and a general idea?</p> - -<p>139. Illustrate the formation of a natural law by means of -abstraction and generalization.</p> - -<p>140. With what feature of political life may the service of a -general idea in mental life be compared?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_16" id="hed_16">16</a>. <span class="smcap">Language</span></h4> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_1-5" id="sbhed_1-5">1.</a> <i>Word Imagery</i></h5> - -<p>There can be no doubt that animals are to some extent able to -generalize. A dog or a cat is trained to distinguish between indoors and -outdoors and to adjust its behavior accordingly. This would be -impossible if the dog possessed no general notion of room or street.</p> - -<p>But these generalizations remain rather insignificant so long as they -are not connected with one definite image which stands as a symbol for -the whole class of things. Nature scarcely presents to us any images -which could be used as symbols of this kind. What are we invariably<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span> -conscious of when thinking of books, or of trees, or of -houses—something that is not only invariable, but also readily -separable in our imagination? It is difficult to name anything which -fulfills these conditions. But man created what he did not find in -nature, symbols which can be used as meaning whole classes of objects -and relations of objects. The totality of these symbols is human -language.</p> - -<p>These symbols are normally divided into four classes of imagery, four -languages, so to speak, in such a manner that each class of objects has -a symbol in each of the four languages. The first of these languages -acquired by the child is the auditory language, made up of the sounds of -the words spoken by others. Soon after having begun to understand spoken -words, the child begins to speak himself. Thus he acquires a second -language, made up of kinesthetic imagery of his vocal organs. These -languages are the only ones possessed by illiterates. In school the -child learns to read, that is, he acquires a third class of symbols, -consisting of visual images of written and printed words. One might of -course speak of these as two visual languages, since the sight of -written words differs somewhat from the sight of printed words. Finally -the child learns to write, and thus acquires a fourth language, made up -of kinesthetic images of the writing hand.</p> - -<p>These are, of course, not the only languages possible. The blind-born, -unable to acquire visual imagery, substitute tactual word imagery by -learning to read raised letters or the raised point script generally -taught in institutions for the blind. But a seeing person, too, may -acquire this tactual language in addition to the other four. The -deaf-born acquire a visual language made up of the images of the hand -and the fingers representing symbolically letters and words. But it is -hardly worth while to enumerate all these minor<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span> languages. The most -important ones practically are these four: the auditory, the visual -(written and printed), the kinesthetic of the vocal organs, and the -kinesthetic of the writing hand.</p> - -<p>We saw that the origin of all these languages, that is, classes of word -images, is to be found in speech. How speech itself originated in the -human race is a problem which thus far is not solved, or at least, of -which no proposed solution has thus far been universally accepted. Some -light is shed upon it by the answer to the simpler question as to the -origin of speech in childhood. Only during the last few decades has this -question been given attention, obviously because this growth of speech, -as an everyday occurrence, seemed to ask for no explanation. The child -imitates!—what else should be said about it? But in order to imitate, -the child must first be able to produce the elements of the things to be -imitated. And by imitation speech only is acquired, but not the full -significance of language.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_2-5" id="sbhed_2-5">2.</a> <i>The Acquisition of Speech</i></h5> - -<p>(1) Speech originates from instinctive activities of the vocal organs. -As a child, when left to himself and feeling well, plays with his hands -and kicks, he also, in response to all kinds of external and internal -stimulations, moves instinctively (that is, because of his inherited -nervous connections) lips and tongue, larynx and chest, and produces a -great number of different sounds and sound combinations—not only those -which are used in the language of his people, but also the strangest -crowing and smacking and clucking sounds. He cannot produce speech -sounds without immediately hearing them. Thus an association is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span> formed -between sound perception, kinesthetic perception, and motor activity; -and soon the sound of his own voice stimulates the child to further -production of these speech sounds. This explains why the same sounds are -often so many times repeated in an infant’s babble, and why baby talk -contains so many reduplications like papa, mama, byby, and so on.</p> - -<p>(2) The sounds invented by the child are used by the parents and other -people in their communications with the child. They select from the -large number those which are like speech sounds of their own language. -They address the child with these words again and again, forming also -brief sentences, and thus stimulate the child to produce at will the -words which he has at his command, in these combinations and sentences. -The child thus becomes more and more skillful in the production of these -words. Meanwhile the numerous other baby words which have no -significance for the people surrounding him, are gradually lost from the -child’s mind, so that later they can no longer be produced voluntarily. -Practically every child can, on the basis of his articulating instinct, -learn any language spoken anywhere on earth. But in later years, when -this instinct has weakened and has been replaced by the habit of -producing the sounds of a particular language, it is a difficult matter -to learn to speak a new language. The sound perception as well as the -sound production is then assimilated to the “native” speech, and the -words of the foreign language are consequently spoken in a manner -similar to the words of the native language. This is meant when we say -that foreign languages acquired in adult life are, as a rule, spoken -with an “accent.”</p> - -<p>The activity of grown people influences the child’s talking in yet -another way. The child hears those words<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> which are selected by the -people surrounding him, usually in the presence of the persons and -things and events for which the words serve as symbols. Thus new -associations are formed. To the kinesthetic and auditory word images is -added imagery of the word’s meaning. The child comes to experience the -words as symbols and to reproduce ideas of the words when the things -appear as percepts or images. Only then can we say that the child has -really learned to speak, to express his perceptions, his images, and his -feeling and willing in speech.</p> - -<p>(3) When the child has reached this stage when he begins to comprehend -the practical importance of this activity of his vocal organs, he begins -to imitate voluntarily, eagerly, the speech of grown people. This -imitation is to some extent mechanical, without involving any -comprehension of the meaning of the words. The child simply enjoys being -able to produce the same words which grown people use. This imitation is -in many cases at first very imperfect, because many elementary sounds -necessary for these words have not been produced instinctively thus far -and therefore cannot be produced voluntarily, the kinesthetic imagery -being lacking. But soon even the more difficult sounds are produced -accurately. The vocal organs acquire the habit of assuming certain -normal positions, from which the special activity of speech in each case -of pronunciation proceeds. In a few years the total number of words -necessary for a command of the language is acquired. But voluntary -imitation is not restricted to mere pronunciation. It is applied also to -the modes of uniting words into compounds, phrases, sentences. The -result of this application is the creation of new compounds out of the -words which the child has at his command at the time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span> of new methods of -applying inflection, to the amusement of those who surround him. The -following are a few examples of such creations: <i>goed</i> for <i>went</i>, -<i>chair</i> for <i>sitting</i>, <i>more pencil</i> for <i>I want the other pencil</i>, -<i>mussing down</i> as the antonym of <i>mussing up</i>.</p> - -<p>Voluntary imitation, therefore, does not altogether mean assimilation to -the language which the child hears spoken; to some extent it means -departure from that language, resulting from the mental capacities with -which he has been endowed by nature. In another way too the child’s -language must differ from that of grown people. All acquisition of -speech is based on perception and is subject to the laws of perception. -We have previously seen that perception is largely dependent on the -interest of the person who perceives, on his previous experiences.</p> - -<p>A child’s interests are totally different from those of a grown person, -so that many words cannot assume in the child’s mind the meaning which -they possess in the adult’s mind. At a later stage this difficulty can -to some extent be overcome by the aid of language itself, by explaining -in words the meaning of a new word. At the beginning this is of course -impossible. So a large number of words used by adults remain for a long -time entirely meaningless to the child, especially abstract words, -relative words (<i>to-day</i>, <i>here</i>, <i>I</i>), and words meaning things with -which the child does not come in contact. Even those which he seems to -understand perfectly have a different meaning. A watch is to the child -something which ticks and sparkles. The adult’s meaning of the word can -in no manner be conveyed to the child. The name of a particular article -of food may be used for all things which are edible, also for eating, -for hunger, and so on. A certain baby called his father, mother, nurse, -sister, all by the same name, <i>dada</i>, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span> applied this word also to -his bottle, and finally to every interesting object.</p> - -<p>This does not mean that children generalize more than adults, that they -have a superior logical capacity. The meaning of the child’s words is -often more general than that of adults because the child takes interest -in fewer qualities, and naturally finds these in a greater number of -objects. But the difference is not that of a greater power of -generalization. Very often the child’s words have a more special -meaning. A child is not likely to use the word <i>animal</i> as meaning -worms, birds, and horses. The difference lies in the fact that the child -uses the word as a symbol for a thing or quality which is conspicuous to -<i>him</i>, interesting to <i>him</i>. A child’s language is amusing to grown -people only because they do not know the meaning which the words have in -the child’s mind, and are inclined to substitute the meaning which they -have in their own minds.</p> - -<p>(4) In spite of all imitation, the individual’s language is largely his -own creation adapted to his individual needs. To the extent to which the -children of a community, of a nation, have similar interests and similar -experiences, these individual creations must be similar. But to the -extent to which interests and experiences differ, language must differ. -Baby talk which is quite comprehensible to the members of one family is -incomprehensible to those of another family. Similarly, the language of -one tribe of the human race has come to differ from that of another -tribe, one nation’s language from that of another nation. Family -differences, of course, cannot last long. The child’s language -assimilates itself to the language of the people at large as soon as the -child comes under the influence of people outside of the family. This is -the fourth stage in the development<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span> of an individual’s language, -lasting much longer than the three preceding stages, indeed practically -never ending. From mistakes in comprehending others, from mistakes of -others caused by his own language, or from special instruction in -school, the individual learns how the words which he uses are to be -understood in order to agree with the general usage of language, and -thus approaches more and more the ideal of uniformity of speech.</p> - -<p>This uniformity, however, can never become complete. The number of words -of which various individuals have command always differs. Their meanings -always differ slightly, sometimes considerably. Accordingly the phrases -and sentences which one uses differ from those of others. Every one has -his own linguistic style. For most practical purposes the actual -uniformity of language is sufficient. Not a few misunderstandings, -discussions, quarrels, however, have their source in the insufficiency -of this uniformity. This is regrettable, but unavoidable. The nature of -mind creates language such as it is, and mind has to make the best of -it. It is only on a very high level of mental development that men -succeed in creating for definite purposes definite languages which admit -of almost no differences of meaning; for instance, the symbolic systems -of mathematics and chemistry. But these systems prove that the very -perfection carries with it an imperfection. The specific power, the art -and beauty of language, are not to be sought in mathematical and -chemical treatises. They depend on the speaker’s and hearer’s -individuality.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_3-5" id="sbhed_3-5">3.</a> <i>The Growth of Language</i></h5> - -<p>Just as one individual’s language differs from that of another -individual, the language of one time differs from the same nation’s -language at another time. The words of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> a language change or are -replaced by new ones. The inflections change, are probably simplified, -or as in the case of the English language, almost completely lost. The -manner of forming compounds, phrases, and sentences is altered. The -meaning of the words is no more fixed; many words change their original -meaning entirely, even to the opposite. Changes of the former -kind—changes of the sounds, their inflections, and their -combinations—are brought about partly by external and fortuitous -conditions, such as the Danish invasion of England or the Norman -conquest, also by greater ease of pronunciation. But here the laws -governing mental life are also determining factors, and in the changes -of meaning every growth depends on these laws. The same forces which -build up the child’s language in conformity with his experiences, -thoughts, interests, and needs, bring about also the gradual changes of -a nation’s language in conformity with the changing experiences, -thoughts, and needs.</p> - -<p>Under special circumstances one among all the properties or features of -a person or thing may occupy the mind almost exclusively, as of Julius -Cæsar the despotic power which he obtained, of Captain Boycott the ban -which was placed upon him. In such cases, when the name is heard and -pronounced, the special feature impresses itself upon the mind. The -speaker thinks of little else than this. And when the necessity arises -of expressing in a word that peculiarity in another place under -different surroundings, the individual name offers itself, since its -original meaning has already been modified, since it has already lost -most of its individual significance. The part of its meaning which is -retained is now generally applied. An expansion of the special meaning -has taken place.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, words which were originally applied<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span> to many things -in many different situations come to signify a particular thing under -particular circumstances. This change of meaning is illustrated by the -names which the state or nation gives its officers. President, -secretary, general, captain, had originally a very broad meaning, but -when applied to the officers of the state have a very special meaning. -It is easy to explain this. The word <i>captain</i>, meaning originally -merely the chief of any aggregation of people, is naturally applied by -the speaker most frequently to the chief of that company of men in which -he is particularly interested. The chief of another company of men is -then no longer called by this simple name, but additional names are -used. The word when used without additional words comes to mean -exclusively the chief of the special group which is of main interest to -the speaker. Similarly, <i>city</i> assumes for the person living in the -country the meaning of the city near by. <i>Gas</i> means for the man who is -not a physicist only the ordinary illuminating gas.</p> - -<p>Other changes of meaning resulting from associative connection and a -transference of attention are the metaphors and metonymies. A metaphor -is a figure of speech in which one object is spoken of as if it were -another; for example, when St. Luke says, “Go ye, and tell that fox,” -meaning Herod. A metonymy is the exchange of names between things -related. <i>Toilet</i> meant originally a small cloth, a napkin, spread over -a table. Then it came to mean the table itself, used in the process of -dressing. Then it meant the process of dressing one’s hair, later the -general process of dressing one’s self. It also assumed the meaning of a -person’s actual dress, his costume; also the style of dress. More -recently it has come to mean the toilet room, the lavatory.</p> - -<p>Many changes in the meaning of words result from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> certain secondary -purposes of the speaker. We usually address another person in order to -obtain something from him. In order to succeed, we must keep or make him -good humored, give him his proper honors and titles, flatter him rather -than call attention to his faults. The consequence of this exaggeration -of the person’s value is that all titles, all forms of appellation, -especially those addressed to the female sex, tend to deteriorate, to -lose their original value. <i>Lady</i> no longer means the wife of a -nobleman, but is applied to a washerwoman. <i>Sir</i> is used in a letter -addressed to any man, however low his rank.</p> - -<p>Deterioration of the meaning of words is not restricted to those used -for appellation. Whenever we desire to convey any thought to others, we -must make it appear important enough to have people give attention to -it. We therefore choose terms which mean more than we intend to say, -rather than terms which mean exactly as much or less. We call things -lovely or horrid when we mean only agreeable or disagreeable, we speak -of heaven or hell when we mean only a good or a bad place. The -inevitable result is, of course, that the impressive words become -insipid. We call a student fair who is only mediocre, merely because of -our good will towards him. <i>Fair</i> then comes to mean mediocre, and we -call a student fair who is a poor student. Finally, a fair student comes -to mean a poor student.</p> - -<p>Those who are particularly anxious to use impressive language—young -people, students, soldiers—often use the other extreme for the same -purpose. They use words which signify low or bad things and relations -(slang) in order to refer to the things and relations of ordinary life -to which they want to call attention. “Grub” comes to mean human food. -“Being plucked” takes the place of “being rejected at an honor -examination.” <i>Puritan</i> and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span> <i>quaker</i> are slang terms of the seventeenth -century which have entirely lost their original meaning of contempt and -ridicule. In the same way words of low meaning are all the time being -raised into the realm of good language.</p> - -<p>Speech depends as much on the totality of mental life as perception. A -person’s choice of words, their forms and their connections, are -determined by previous habits of using words, by experience concerning -those qualities of things which are most important to his own interests, -by his consciousness of his present needs and ends. The general purpose -of communication between the members of society tends to obliterate -differences between individuals and between generations. But it never -does this perfectly. Individuality, circumstances, and special purpose -give to the language of each person an individual stamp; and the -succession of individuals, of historical conditions, of the varying -needs of successive generations, brings about unavoidably alterations in -the language. These alterations are retarded by the existence of a -written language, of literature. They may also be retarded artificially -by training and compelling the members of a community to use the same -words and the same rules of grammar and syntax. Such artificial -remedies, however, are not without serious disadvantages. They take the -life out of language. Force, beauty, and particularly truthfulness in -representation of thoughts are likely to be sacrificed unless we are -willing to admit a certain amount of lawlessness, which, after all, is -the outcome of the fundamental laws of the mind.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_4-5" id="sbhed_4-5">4.</a> <i>The Significance of Language</i></h5> - -<p>Aside from its social significance as the almost exclusive means of -communication among the members of society, language has its -significance for purely individual mental<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span> activity and mental growth. -This has already been referred to above. Language makes possible an -almost unlimited refinement of abstract thought, a complete analysis of -the data of perceptual, ideational, and affective life into their -elements, and the construction out of them of new concepts, first -according to their similarities, then according to purposes. Such -concepts as acceleration, pitch of tone, irrational number, atomic heat, -justice, bliss, would be impossible without language. To the invention -of such abstract concepts mankind owes its subjugation of nature. It is -difficult to think of the exact manner in which bodies fall when they -are dropped; some fall slowly, others with great velocity, some do not -fall at all, but rise. But think of them as being in space from which -the air has been exhausted, and apply the concept of acceleration. At -once the matter is very simple, and it includes even the heavenly bodies -with which we never come in direct contact: all bodies fall with -<i>constant acceleration</i>.</p> - -<p>This is but one of innumerable instances. Practically all laws of -physics, chemistry, philology, psychology, and all the other sciences -are stated in terms of highly abstract concepts. Imagine, for example, -the sine or tangent of an angle, electromotor force, molecular weight, -consonants and vowels, intensity of sensation. None of these abstract -concepts and none of the laws in which they appear could have been -invented without the aid of language. How restricted, further, would be -our knowledge without language! How limited the exchange of opinions! -Think of such a phrase as “the events of the last thirty years.” What a -multitude of ideas is suggested by it in the most economical manner! Few -of these ideas actually become conscious; but all of them are made ready -to serve if their services should be needed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span></p> - -<p>Language further enables us to overcome, whenever this is necessary, the -ambiguity of its own elements (the words) which results from the -individual and historical conditions influencing the growth of speech. -The meaning of words can be fixed by definition. Such words as <i>circle</i>, -<i>energy</i>, <i>freedom</i>, have many different meanings (a circle of friends, -the energy of style, the freedom of a city). The physicist defines -energy as the capacity for performing mechanical work, excluding any and -all other meanings. The philosopher defines freedom as the possession of -the power to act in accordance with one’s inherent nature, independent -of external causes. Because of the association between the defined and -the defining words, the latter keep the defined word from being used -wrongly, by entering consciousness when the defined word happens to be -used in an improper connection. It is true that, in order to insure -constancy of meaning, the defining words, too, should be defined again -by others, and so on. A perfect definition is therefore an ideal which -can be approached, but never reached. In spite of this, the value to -human thought and knowledge of clearly defined concepts is immeasurable.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>141. Why does generalization play such an insignificant part in the -mental life of animals?</p> - -<p>142. What are the four languages of educated normal people?</p> - -<p>143. Which of these languages is acquired first by the child?</p> - -<p>144. How does baby talk originate?</p> - -<p>145. How are the reduplications of baby talk to be explained?</p> - -<p>146. What is the origin of “a foreign accent” in speech?</p> - -<p>147. Why does voluntary imitation of speech sounds by a baby -develop at first very slowly?</p> - -<p>148. Illustrate the inventiveness of children in learning to -speak.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span></p> - -<p>149. What could make one think that children surpass grown people -in the ability to generalize?</p> - -<p>150. What are the four stages in the development of an individual’s -language?</p> - -<p>151. What is the advantage or disadvantage of uniformity and -individuality in the use of language?</p> - -<p>152. Illustrate how a word of individual meaning changes to a -general meaning.</p> - -<p>153. Illustrate how a word of general meaning changes to an -individual meaning.</p> - -<p>154. Explain the psychological origin of a metaphor and a metonymy.</p> - -<p>155. Illustrate and explain the deterioration of words.</p> - -<p>156. Illustrate slang and explain its origin.</p> - -<p>157. Is it desirable that the written language should retard the -growth of the spoken language? Give reasons for your answer.</p> - -<p>158. What significance has language besides serving as a means of -communication?</p> - -<p>159. What is a definition? Why can a definition never become -perfect?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_17" id="hed_17">17</a>. <span class="smcap">Judgment and Reason</span></h4> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_1-6" id="sbhed_1-6">1.</a> <i>Coherent Thought</i></h5> - -<p>When I receive a letter from a friend, I perceive its words, I become -conscious of their meaning, I remember my relations to him; for -instance, the time of our first meeting. But my thought proceeds. I -wonder how he is getting along now, whether better or worse than myself, -whether he has succeeded in overcoming through his greater energy the -obstacles which retarded my progress. This is more than perception, -imagination, or abstract consciousness. It is a <i>coherent process of -thinking</i>. The best way of describing its characteristics is to tell -what the opposite of <i>coherent</i> thought is.</p> - -<p>First, coherent thought is not dreaming. The elements of a dream are of -course united by something. But they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span> are united only like the links of -a chain. If the second link were removed, nothing would hold the first -and the third together. This chain-like thought is frequent in the -insane. The following is an example from Diefendorf’s <i>Psychiatry</i>:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“My mother came for me in January. She had on a black bombazine of -Aunt Jane’s. One shoestring of her own and got another from -neighbor Jenkins. She lives in a little white house kitty corner of -our’n. Come up with an old green umbrella ’cause it rained. You -know it can rain in January when there is a thaw. Snow wasn’t more -than half an inch deep, hog-killing time, they butchered eight that -winter, made their own sausages, cured hams, and tried out their -lard. They had a smoke house. [Question: But how about your leaving -Hartford?] She got up to Hartford on the half-past eleven train and -it was raining like all get out. Dr. Butler was having dinner, -codfish, twasn’t Friday, he ain’t no Catholic, just sat with his -back to the door and talked and laughed and talked.”</p></div> - -<p>In other cases, mere similarity of words of different meaning, rhyme, -familiar questions, or spatial contiguity of things lead consciousness -from one idea to a second, from the second to the third, and so on, -without any common tie which would unite all these ideas into one -system.</p> - -<p>Coherent thought, secondly, is no endless recurring of the same few -ideas, as when I am brooding over something, when a song which I have -heard occupies my mind and gives me no peace, when the thought of having -possibly failed to lock the door properly prevents me from sleeping. -This recurring kind of thought, too, is a frequent symptom in cases of -mental derangement; for example, as a continuously present desire to -kill somebody, or as the permanent idea of one’s own sinfulness and -worthlessness.</p> - -<p>Coherent thought is intermediate between the two extremes just -mentioned. It is a train of thought regulated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span> by the associative -connections between all the separate ideas and one central idea which -dominates and unifies the whole. The thought of a football game or of -the destiny of the United States branches out into innumerable partial -thoughts, each one leading to another one. But they are all united by -their relation to this game or to this nation. Such a coherent thought -need not possess a considerable length. Sometimes, as in unconstrained -conversation or in letter writing, it may soon be followed by another -coherent thought, this by a third, and so on, and these may be related -to each other merely like the links of a chain. Sometimes, however, it -lasts for hours, as in lecturing on a definite subject, or in writing or -reading a chapter of a book or a whole book.</p> - -<p>Coherent thought depends largely on <i>memory</i>, on associative -connections. But it depends also on those conditions which determine -<i>attention</i>: unless the thoughts have an affective value, unless they -are interesting to the individual in question, they are not likely to -enter consciousness. Because of this dependence on the conditions of -attention, certain persons are capable of coherent thought in some -lines, but not in others. Whenever the purely <i>associative</i> function -predominates over the conditions of <i>attention</i>, or conversely, those -abnormalities occur of which we have just spoken, mere chain-like -thought, or obsession by a single idea.</p> - -<p>Nothing else favors coherent thought so much as the possession of -language. The simplicity of a word or phrase and its connection with -experiences of unlimited complexity enable the mind to keep within one -system of thought in spite of temporary deviations, numerous and winding -though they be. Such complicated ideas, inexhaustible to him who tries -to describe them, as propriety, honor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span> duty, may guide and determine a -long-continued train of thoughts and actions. The most important one of -all these guiding ideas, crystallizing around a single word, is the idea -of self, of <i>I</i>.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_2-6" id="sbhed_2-6">2.</a> <i>The Self and the World</i></h5> - -<p>Among the impressions received by a child through his sense organs, some -must very early distinguish themselves from the rest. (1) When the child -is carried about or creeps about, the majority of his impressions change -from moment to moment: instead of a wall with pictures, seen a few -seconds ago, he sees windows with curtains; instead of tables and chairs -he sees houses, trees, and strange people. Certain impressions, however, -hardly change. Whatever else he may see, he almost invariably sees also -his hands and some of the lower parts of his body. Whatever may be the -position of his body, sensations from his clothing, from the movements -of his limbs, from the processes in his digestive and other organs are -always present. (2) Another impressive phenomenon is this. The things -seen often move, and thus cause alterations in the field of vision. But -when these moving things are his own arms and legs, yielding to the pull -of their muscles, there is an additional experience, made up of -kinesthetic and usually also tactual sensations. Certain experiences are -therefore a kind of twofold experience as compared with others which are -of one kind only: visual plus kinesthetic-tactual. (3) In still a third -way certain experiences distinguish themselves. Whenever the child’s -hands and feet come in contact with external things, a tactual sensation -is added to the visual impression. But when one hand touches the other -hand or a foot or another part of the body, even a part which is not -seen, a peculiar double<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span> tactual impression is received. That this -double tactual sensation is particularly interesting may be concluded -from the concentration with which an infant plays with his feet, and the -enjoyment which a kitten seems to get from biting its tail.</p> - -<p>For various reasons, therefore, the sensations of a child’s <i>own body</i>, -visual, tactual, organic, etc., become experiences of a special class. -By various peculiarities they distinguish themselves from all others and -become a special, unitary group. But the child’s <i>ideas and feelings</i>, -when compared with his perceptions, also form a peculiar system, often -keeping unchanged while the perceptions change because of movements of -the objective things or of the body itself. It is quite natural, then, -that in opposition to the external world <i>a dual system</i> is conceived, -made up of the bodily sensations on the one hand and the ideas and -feelings of frequently repeated or especially impressive experiences on -the other. But in spite of this unison between the complex of bodily -sensations and the complex of ideas, forming a personal world as opposed -to the external world, there remains an opposition between the -constituents of the personal world as between a material and a spiritual -half of the whole.</p> - -<p>This complex idea of a personal world, of personality, which constantly -increases in content, is given a special name, John or Mary, and still -later another name, <i>I</i>. The unity of the idea of personality, the -readiness of its appearance in consciousness in spite of the multitude -of its contents, is greatly enhanced by this name. The idea <i>I</i> becomes -the omnipresent and dominating factor in consciousness. I can see -nothing, hear nothing, imagine nothing without, however vaguely, -thinking that it is <i>I</i> who reads, <i>I</i> who answers, <i>I</i> who designs. It -is altogether impossible<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span> to express such thoughts in language without -reference to the <i>I</i> or the <i>mine</i>. In the ecstasy of the mystic or the -mental exaltation of the insane, the idea of <i>I</i> may be absent, but -never under normal conditions at an age beyond that of infancy. -Consciousness in which the idea of <i>I</i> is rather pronounced is commonly -called self-consciousness.</p> - -<p>It is plain enough that thinking of the other half of the world, other -than the self, is also facilitated by such names as “the world,” “the -external world.” But the concept of the external world does not easily -attain the unity of the concept of self, because the experiences -referred to are too changeable in comparison with those referred to by -<i>I</i>. We speak of the external world chiefly in order to distinguish it -from the self, not because of the unity of its conception.</p> - -<p>The extraordinary support which the consciousness of self receives from -language has had also a certain undesirable consequence. We have -mentioned in an earlier chapter the universal desire to imagine the -world as being under the power of innumerable demons. The consciousness -of the self thus leads naturally to the thought of a demon who inhabits -the human body. When a person under ordinary conditions is conscious of -the <i>I</i>, there is no time for its content to unfold itself to any -considerable extent. Usually one small group of ideas enters -consciousness, even when I ask myself the question as to what I am: -ideas of a certain visual appearance, a certain position in society, a -certain age, certain aims in life. It seems then that the concept of -self is exceedingly simple. This apparent simplicity gives aid to the -idea of the existence of a simple demon, independent of time, eternal, -inhabiting and governing this body as long as its organs are held -together by their normal physiological functions, after the body’s death -going elsewhere—whither, we do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span> know. But this conclusion as to the -existence of a simple, unitary subjective reality is no more justifiable -than the statement that, because of the simplicity of the idea <i>it</i> in -ordinary language, there must be an absolutely simple objective reality -which corresponds to it.</p> - -<p>Mind may justly be called a unity. But it is not a simple, indescribable -unity, a unitary something separable from the sum of the parts of which -it consists. It is, rather, a unity comparable to the unity of an animal -organism or a plant, which may be well described as consisting of so -many different parts functioning together according to definite laws. -Within the unity of the mind there are smaller groups which may also be -called unities, though in a restricted sense. The <i>I</i> is one of these -subordinate unities. It, too, is not simple, but consists of parts, -sometimes a greater, sometimes a smaller number. It may expand and -include almost as much content as mind itself, provided that time is -given for such an expansion, and a sufficient stimulus. Usually the <i>I</i> -is very poor in content, hardly anything else than the word-idea which -is the representative of the whole concept.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_3-6" id="sbhed_3-6">3.</a> <i>Intelligence</i></h5> - -<p>It is but natural that thought is largely in harmony with the actual -facts. Its contents are derived from sensory experiences, are molded by -sensory experiences, and must therefore often be anticipations of -sensory experiences. With reference to its agreement or disagreement -with the actual facts, we give our thought the name of truth, -knowledge—or error. Both truths and errors, like perceptions and -illusions, are the results of the laws governing mental functions. But -truths are more common in the mental life of certain individuals than in -that of others. Youth is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span> more apt than mature age to give free rein to -its imagination, no matter whether it agrees with reality or not. This -is partly the result of the mature man’s realizing the high value of -this agreement and therefore striving for it; partly the unintended -consequence of innumerable pleasant and sad experiences, of adaptations -which have proved now more, now less successful. But aside from such -differences developing during life, there are immense differences of a -similar kind resulting from native capacities. We speak of such -capacities as reason, judgment, intelligence.</p> - -<p>Intelligence does not consist merely in a good memory, making possible -the exact reproduction of experiences of long ago. A good memory in this -sense contributes much toward a high degree of intelligence, but is not -identical with it. Even the feeble-minded are often found to possess an -astonishing capacity for retaining dates, poetry, music. But memory -adapts the thought processes only to very simple and frequently -recurring events. When the circumstances become complicated, it soon -proves inadequate.</p> - -<p>Imagine a servant sent on an errand. He finds it impossible to execute -the instructions received from his master. That ends it, if he is -deficient in intelligence. No instructions have been given for this -case; thus there is nothing to do but to return home. But the thought of -an intelligent servant is more comprehensive. He recalls his master’s -situation and analogous cases; the probable purpose of the master’s -order; other possibilities of realizing the same end. Thus he succeeds -perhaps in reconstructing the totality of the conditions which led his -master to send him, and in meeting these conditions.</p> - -<p>Take another example. Of several physicians, all but one are mistaken in -the diagnosis of a case. Why do they differ? Every disease is -characterized by a multitude of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span> symptoms. Some of them are obvious, so -that no one can fail to notice them: the complaints of the patient. -Others are more hidden, but no less important. The physician must search -for them. Each symptom, for example, fever, lack of appetite, dizziness, -megalomania, may appear in very different diseases. A definite group of -symptoms in definite degrees of intensity is characteristic of a -particular disease. Two conditions, therefore, must be fulfilled to make -a correct diagnosis. The symptoms which are hidden must be called up by -those which are obvious, so that the physician can search for them and -determine whether they are present or absent; for without first thinking -of them he cannot search for them. Secondly, the thought of the present -and absent symptoms must reproduce the idea of the disease which is -characterized by the presence or absence of just these symptoms. This -reproduction is possible only in a mind in which all these ideas are -very closely connected, forming a well-organized system. Where this is -not the case, the less obvious symptoms cannot influence the decision, -and the correctness of the diagnosis becomes a matter of chance.</p> - -<p>Lack of intelligence, then, means a <i>deficiency in the organization of -ideas</i>, a lack of those manifold interconnections by which a large -number of ideas may enter into a unitary group—no matter how -<i>effectively</i> each idea is associated with a small number of others, -that is, how excellent the person’s <i>memory</i>. Intelligence means -organization of ideas, manifold interconnection of all those ideas which -ought to enter into a unitary group, because of the natural relations of -the objective facts represented by them. The discovery of a physical law -in a multitude of phenomena apparently unrelated, the interpretation of -an historical event of which only a few details are directly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span> known, are -examples of intelligent thought which takes into consideration -innumerable experiences neglected by the less intelligent mind. Neither -memory alone nor attention alone is the foundation of intelligence, but -a union of memory and attention. Energy of concentration must be -combined with breadth of interest. It is clear that thought determined -by both these conditions is more likely to agree with the enormously -complicated events in the external world than thought which is governed -mainly by one of them.</p> - -<p>How does human intelligence differ from that of animals? That man is -immeasurably superior to animals cannot be doubted. But human -superiority does not consist in the possession of a higher faculty—let -us call it reason—in no way dependent on the lower, animal faculties, -to which it is added as a jeweler’s tools might be added to a -blacksmith’s tools. The difference between the animal mind and the human -mind is simply this: that the imaginative anticipation of possible -experiences of the future is brought about in the human mind by means of -more abstract and therefore more comprehensive ideas than in the animal -mind. Man’s mind is by natural inheritance far more capable of forming -abstract ideas than is the mind of the highest animals. Man is further -immensely aided in abstract thought by language—his own -invention—which furnishes him with symbols taking the place of the most -complicated ideas, and because of their simplicity, effecting economy in -mental work as tools and machines do in manual labor. Animals, too, -possess symbols, cries; but their number is insignificant. The -difference between man and animals is therefore only one of degree in -properties which are common to both. But these degrees are indeed very -far apart in the scale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>160. How does coherent thought differ from dreaming?</p> - -<p>161. How does coherent thought differ from mere recurrent thought?</p> - -<p>162. What are the conditions on which coherent thought depends?</p> - -<p>163. What is the significance of language for coherent thought?</p> - -<p>164. What are the two sources of the idea of self?</p> - -<p>165. What influence has language on the concept of the unity and -indivisibility of self?</p> - -<p>166. What is the true concept of the unity of mind?</p> - -<p>167. How does intelligence differ from memory?</p> - -<p>168. How does the text describe “lack of intelligence”?</p> - -<p>169. How does human intelligence differ from that of animals?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_18" id="hed_18">18</a>. <span class="smcap">Belief</span></h4> - -<p>It seems, then, that all our knowledge is a mere adaptation to external -circumstances, that truth is entirely relative, being only a fitting -relation between the subject and his surroundings. But are there no -truths whose evidence is inherent in them? Are there no axioms which are -immediately evident? Is it not our task to derive all other truths from -these axioms by means of logical rules the correctness of which we are -obliged to admit? Or, if there are also secondary truths, which we -recognize as such only because they suit our experience, are not those -immediately evident truths a superior kind, preëminently worthy of the -name? For example, the logical, mathematical, and religious truths?</p> - -<p>Our previous discussion of truth and knowledge is indeed insufficient. -We called truth any mental state which is in harmony with objective -reality, no matter whether this relation of harmony is itself thought of -in the truth or not. But we may use the word <i>truth</i>, or <i>knowledge</i>, in -a subjective sense, meaning by it a complex mental state which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span> -<i>includes the thought of its agreeing</i> with objective reality; that is, -a state which includes the <i>belief</i> of its objective counterpart. Most -people take it for granted that knowledge is mental activity which has -its objective counterpart. However, there are very many subjective -truths to which an objective reality cannot correspond. Christian, -Jewish, pagan, and philosophical martyrs have testified with their blood -to their faiths, which in certain respects contradict each other. They -must, therefore, have sacrificed their lives partly for something -objectively untrue. On the other hand, there are objective truths which -are not believed; for instance, theories which are rejected for some -time, but later prove to be right.</p> - -<p>We have seen how objectively correct thought originates. Let us now -consider the origin of thought which includes the thought of the -existence of its objective counterpart; that is, the origin of belief.</p> - -<p>An infant has no consciousness of either reality or unreality. He has -simply conscious states, without any such distinction. But he cannot -fail to learn the distinction. He is hungry. He cries. He becomes -conscious of reproduced former experiences of food and of the mother -bringing the food. And, indeed, the door opens, the mother enters with -the food, very similar to the imagined mother, and yet differing in -vividness, in permanence, in number of details. At a later time the -child imagines strange compositions: animals with legs both below and on -their backs, so that they can turn over and continue running when one -set of legs is tired; princes and princesses with golden crowns on their -heads; fairies carrying marvelous gifts in their hands. But nothing of -this kind appears with the vividness, permanence, and distinctness -characteristic of the mother entering the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span> Human beings who appear -with a similar vividness, permanence, and distinctness, either are -bareheaded or wear plain-looking hats; and their gifts amount to but -little. When the child imagines the experience with his mother, he -recalls the substitution of the vivid and stable consciousness for the -feeble and fleeting image of the mother and the food. When he imagines -his dreams of princes and fairies, he recalls the substitution of those -vivid but homely mental states for less vivid but more beautiful ones. -When such experiences have been repeated hundreds of times, the child -begins to realize that there is a distinction of the greatest importance -between the two classes. He forms the abstract concepts of sensory -perception and of fancy—of consciousness of various sensory qualities -and characterized by indescribable vividness, permanence, and -distinctness; and on the other hand, of consciousness of various sensory -qualities and characterized by feebleness, fleetingness, and vagueness, -and in this respect flatly contradicted by the mental states of the -other kind. <i>In these abstract conceptions consists the consciousness of -reality and unreality.</i> Reality and unreality are not logical opposites, -but merely relative concepts.</p> - -<p>As soon as the ideas of reality and unreality are once formed, ample -opportunity is found for their application. They are applied also to -cases which do not belong to either of the extremes of vividness, -permanence, and distinctness, or feebleness, fleetingness, and -vagueness. Finally, they are applied by mere analogy to cases which do -not directly call for their application—as in a discussion of -historical truths. At this point another distinction is made. Trees with -leaves of silver are never presented to our sense organs. But the -elements which make up even the most contradictory compounds of fancy -have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span> known through the sense organs and become known again as -sensory impressions. Trees with a foliage of silver are not seen in -everyday life; but trees are seen, and leaf-like things of silver, too. -Even if all our ideational thought were fancy, its elements would tend -to make us conscious of the concept of reality rather than of unreality -because separately the elements have often been experienced with a high -degree of vividness, permanence, and distinctness. The opportunities for -thinking of reality are incomparably more numerous in human life than -those for thinking of unreality. We develop the habit of conceiving our -thoughts as real, unless there is a positive force compelling us to -accept the opposite concept. Thus we understand why the child, as soon -as he has formed these two concepts, is immensely credulous.</p> - -<p>Tell the child that the moon is going to drop from heaven, and he will -look up, expecting to see it fall. The child’s experience is limited. -There is but rarely a positive force tending to reproduce in his -consciousness the concept of unreality. Where there is no such force, -the child does not remain neutral, skeptical, but conceives his thought -as including objective reality. Language assists in this tendency, for -the first words acquired by the child mean objective realities, persons, -clothes, furniture, and so on. The frequent use of these words -strengthens the habit of thinking of things as realities. Of much -influence is also the use of the verb <i>to be</i> as a mere copula and also -in the sense of <i>to exist</i>. The child is thus induced to regard a thing -as existing because it is thought <i>to be</i> yellow, round, etc. That <i>to -be</i> is used in this ambiguous manner in all languages seems to be -additional proof of what is historically certain, that the human race, -like the human child, has passed through a period of extreme<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span> credulity. -This racial credulity through the traditional usage of language -contributes now to the credulity of the individual.</p> - -<p>Gradually the child’s experience becomes more extensive and begins to -exert upon the multitude of original beliefs an influence which -sometimes continues all through life, although ultimately the progress -becomes very slow. Experience steadily encroaches upon the realm of -belief, driving it from ground which it previously occupied. It also -gives additional authority to belief, enabling it to hold more firmly -that to which previously it possessed but a doubtful title.</p> - -<p>Much that contradicts frequent experiences is taken out of the realm of -belief and called a fairy tale or a story. Trees with golden apples? -There is no such thing, the real apples assert—we are all mellow and -meaty, not hard as gold. A Santa Claus who distributes gifts to all the -children everywhere at the same time? Impossible, says everyday -experience. He who is here cannot also be yonder and in a thousand other -places.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, experience gives strength to the child’s belief. -Single matters of belief are connected mutually and with the absolute -basis of all knowledge, the sensory perceptions of the present. When I -am obliged to think, however briefly and vaguely, that as really as I -now see this paper and perceive the words printed on it, I was at that -particular time, previous to those and those events of the meantime, at -a certain place witnessing a certain act, my belief in the reality of -this event is unshakable. Whatever can be connected in this manner with -this fixed point, is itself fixed, placed beyond doubt.</p> - -<p>Why can I believe my dreams while I am dreaming them, but not after -waking up? Because consciousness is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span> limited during sleep. There are <i>no -perceptions</i> with their normal vividness, permanence, and distinctness, -with which the dream may be compared as to its reality. There are but -<i>few other ideas</i> accompanied by a vivid idea of reality, with which the -dream may be compared. The dream has therefore the <i>maximum of reality</i> -of all mental states present at that time in the mind. This is meant -when we <i>believe</i> our dreams while we dream them. In a dream it may seem -real to be shot toward the moon in an immense shell in company with -other people, as in Jules Verne’s story. But in waking life this thought -is altogether devoid of reality. In comparison with the reality of my -present experience and of my ideas of the limits of engineering, of the -low temperature of interstellar space, and so on, that thought of a -journey in a shell immediately makes me conscious of the vivid idea of -unreality. I cannot believe that story.</p> - -<p>We call a verbal statement <i>proved</i> as soon as the connection between it -and our present experience has been established in such a manner that -the idea of reality is aroused in our mind. The believing of that which -has been proved is called <i>knowing</i>. Belief is often used in a narrower -sense, excluding that which is known and including only that which does -not arouse either an idea of reality or an idea of unreality. Both -usages are justifiable, the narrower one and also the wider one. -Knowledge and belief are opposed as well as related. It is of much -practical importance to distinguish that which has been proved from that -which has not been proved. But it is also of practical importance to -distinguish that which is surely unreal from that which is merely -unproved. It is quite impossible in human life to prove every statement -before we permit it to affect our thought and our action.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span></p> - -<p>The chief thing which a man must have learned when he arrives at -maturity is this: that the number of facts to be believed is very much -smaller than he thought originally. The belief of childhood and youth is -subject to continuous losses. Something is, indeed, confirmed and -strengthened by growing experience; but it was believed before it was -known, and cannot properly be called an additional belief. Much that has -been believed for some time is recognized as unreal. That apparent -errors have to be recognized as truths happens much more rarely. -Experience makes a man more and more skeptical, cautious. This is of -great advantage to him in his adaptation to the world, and higher -institutions of learning to a large extent have their purpose in aiding -the young to develop cautious, critical habits of thinking. A student -goes to college not merely in order to cram himself with bare facts, but -to be trained in the habit of seeing men and things in the abundance of -their relations, of asking for their passports before granting them free -passage.</p> - -<p>Thus the original tendency to believe is gradually limited, more in one -individual, less in another. But it is never perfectly eradicated. This, -indeed, would not be advantageous. A limited tendency to believe is -indispensable. Two conditions contribute chiefly toward the retention of -a belief which can be neither proved nor disproved: authority and -personal needs.</p> - -<p>“He told us so” is reported to have been a common remark among the -disciples of Pythagoras. And to the present time disciples of any master -have not failed to quote their master. It is not even necessary to be a -master in order to be a prophet. A strong voice, significant -gesticulation, and impressive speech are sufficient to guide the belief -of the masses of the people. When everybody holds<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span> a certain belief and -gives expression to it, no member of the crowd can escape the influence -of the constant repetition of the thought. I cannot help believing what -my friends or my associates in a profession believe. Even if I begin to -reflect on the reasonableness of accepting as a truth what I have merely -often heard, I can hardly free myself of the belief. Is it not highly -improbable that all of them should have been led into error without -noticing it? On the consensus of everybody, philosophers have frequently -founded their highest doctrines. Cicero calls it the voice of nature. On -the other hand, narrow-minded people often attempt to fight a truth -which they dislike by pointing out partial disagreements among its -adherents.</p> - -<p>But the belief in statements which are neither proved nor disproved is -not always based on authority; that is, produced by emphatic and -often-repeated expression of these statements by the people among whom -we live. It is frequently the result of strong and deep-seated needs of -the human mind. As long as these needs make themselves felt, they call -up in the mind ideas of remedies and means in harmony with analogous -experiences; and unless these remedies and means are contradicted by -other experiences, they are believed. One may call this, in distinction -from the authoritative belief, practical or emotional belief.</p> - -<p>Every one believes in his own destiny. Every mother believes in her son. -Napoleon believed in his star. A general who doubts if he is going to -win the impending battle has already half lost it. Can he prove it, that -is, can he interpret what he sees and what is reported to him in such a -manner that the idea of his winning the battle cannot appear in his mind -without the idea of reality? He is probably very far from giving his -experiences<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span> such an interpretation. Of course, he will do his best in -order to make victory come his way. But his knowledge constantly informs -him that the outcome is dubious. Yet this knowledge does not keep him -from believing that it is not dubious. He cannot help believing it. His -whole existence depends on this belief. His honor, his future career, -his nation, all is lost unless he wins. The idea of loss is impossible. -It is inhibited by the idea of success, by that idea which alone can -give him the prudence and presence of mind that are needed.</p> - -<p>Or the mother who believes that her son will turn out a respectable man, -does she do it because of her experiences? Her experiences are perhaps -opposed to her belief; she believes, nevertheless. Circumstances were -unfavorable to her son, his father does not understand his real nature, -he merely enjoys his youth: thus she comforts herself. Experience is not -the foundation of her belief, but her belief interprets her experience. -The belief is founded on the fact that she needs it. The idea of a -wayward son would deprive her of the most valued part of her existence. -Therefore she cannot believe it.</p> - -<p>Misfortune of any kind has a marvelous belief-creating power, because it -constantly revives ideas of remedying the misfortune. “Whoever has lived -among people,” says Spinoza, “knows how full of wisdom they feel, -insulted if any one should offer any advice, as long as their affairs -are prosperous. But let misfortune overpower them, and they are willing -to ask any one’s advice, and to accept it, however senseless and -ill-considered it may be.”</p> - -<p>Experiential, authoritative, and practical belief differ according to -their sources, but they appear in life in various combinations. However, -one of three kinds can usually be found to be the chief component in a -system of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span> conviction. That we cannot escape the authoritative belief is -plain. Who could repeat every observation made by others in order to -avoid the possibility of accepting erroneous reports? Practical belief -has different limits according to the amount of experience possessed by -each individual. And a whole class of people having about the same kind -and amount of experience may thus be distinguished from another class by -their practical beliefs. A practical belief of one, which is not shared -by another, is called by the latter a superstition. How much -superstitions differ and how much they change is well known. Recall, for -example, a superstitious means of improving one’s looks, of curing -diseases, of regaining a lost love. But wherever a superstition is -difficult to contradict because it is so stated as to concern only that -which is beyond experience (spiritualism), or when it is supported by a -famous name, it may successfully resist all attempts at overthrowing it.</p> - -<p>We saw that practical belief is not altogether independent of -experiential belief. Neither is the latter independent of the former. -When two theories agree equally well with experiential facts, we accept -the one that is simpler. Not because we know that it is nature’s -obligation to proceed in the simplest manner possible, and that -therefore the simpler theory is more likely to be correct; but because -our practical needs compel us to accept a simpler theory whenever we -can. We believe the Copernican theory of the solar system and reject the -Ptolemaic system. Not because one is more correct than the other; but -because the Copernican system combines the same objective fitness with -an immeasurably greater simplicity. The simple we desire; the simple, -therefore, we believe. A simple connection of a variety of things is -pleasant, beautiful. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span> is easy to survey it. It takes but a small -amount of mental energy to imagine it. Whenever our experiences leave us -a choice, we choose what is simpler. In other cases, too, practical -belief comes to the aid of experiential belief. In the border regions of -knowledge and within the blank spaces found within the field of -knowledge, belief must take the place of knowledge.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>170. What is the difference between objectively correct thought and -belief?</p> - -<p>171. What is the wider and what the narrower meaning of “belief”?</p> - -<p>172. How do the ideas of reality and of unreality originate in the -child?</p> - -<p>173. Why are we more inclined to apply the concept of reality than -that of unreality?</p> - -<p>174. What is the double influence of experience on the child’s -belief?</p> - -<p>175. Should authoritative belief be eradicated? Give reasons for -your answer.</p> - -<p>176. Should practical belief be eradicated? Give reasons for your -answer.</p> - -<p>177. What is a superstition?</p> - -<p>178. Why do we believe the Copernican theory and reject the -Ptolemaic theory?</p></div> - -<h3><a name="B_III" id="B_III"></a><i>B. Affection and Conduct</i></h3> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_19" id="hed_19">19</a>. <span class="smcap">Complications of Feeling</span></h4> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_1-7" id="sbhed_1-7">1.</a> <i>Feeling Dependent on Form and Content</i></h5> - -<p>Perception and ideation rarely, if ever, occur in the isolation in which -they were shown above in order to make clear their structure: they are -accompanied by, interwoven<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span> with, feelings. A summer landscape not only -looks different from the same landscape when covered with snow, but also -arouses different feelings. I may look forward to the same event—an -ocean voyage or an automobile tour—as a danger or as a pleasure; I may -regard an assertion as a truth or as doubtful. The ideas of which I am -conscious surely differ much in the alternative cases. But still greater -is the difference of feeling to which we refer by such terms as <i>fear</i>, -<i>low spirits</i>, <i>disquietude</i>, <i>comfort</i>, <i>joy</i>. The exact make-up of -these complexes of feeling is difficult to describe, but we may try to -point out the conditions on which they depend. We shall first consider -form and content.</p> - -<p>Sensations, images, perceptions, and so on, give rise to feelings, not -only on account of what they are, but also and indeed chiefly because of -their manner of connection, of succession, and of spatial relation. -Colors which we regard as most beautiful separately may compose a carpet -whose color scheme we dislike and call inharmonious; on the other hand, -the most uninteresting gray dots may compose a beautiful design. A piece -of music is beautiful not alone because of the clearness of the single -tones, but chiefly because of the relations of these tones in melody, -harmony, and rhythm.</p> - -<p>One principle is generally applicable to this class of feelings: a -variety of mental contents is bound together into a unity for our -perception and imagination. A multitude of unconnected things is not -easily perceivable or thinkable; therefore it is unpleasant. A single -thing, so simple that it cannot be analyzed into component parts, cannot -occupy our mind for any length of time; it is tedious, unpleasant. A -combination of variety and unity is able to keep us mentally busy -without overburdening the mind; therefore it is pleasant.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span></p> - -<p>The general principle, however, admits of a great many different -applications. The unity may consist, for example, in the similarity and -regularity of arrangement of the pickets of a fence. The unity may -consist in subordination of a number of equal elements to a dominating -element, as the larger fence post taking the place of a picket at -regular intervals, or the accented element in a rhythm. The unity may -consist in organic unity of the elements of a living thing. It may be -logical unity, as in a sentence or a lecture. Several of these and other -kinds of unity may appear simultaneously in the same matter; and one of -these unities may be subordinate to another, this again to another, and -so on, as in a Gothic cathedral, a symphony, or a drama.</p> - -<p>Thus the variety and complication of the feelings based on the principle -in question is immensely great, depending on all these unities, their -harmonious relation or opposition, and the contents of impression or -imagination directly. This complication is further increased by the -conditions discussed below.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_2-7" id="sbhed_2-7">2.</a> <i>Feeling Dependent on Association of Ideas</i></h5> - -<p>Why does a sunny spring landscape give us pleasure? What is its -advantage over a gloomy winter landscape? Possibly green is a pleasanter -color than brown or gray, which predominate in the winter landscape. -Possibly the curved outlines of the trees in their foliage are more -beautiful than the naked branches appearing like a system of dark veins -on a gray sky. But these are hardly the main causes of the difference in -feeling, which are found rather in the different ideas associated with -the one and the other percept. The spring landscape reminds one of life, -warmth, travel, picnics; the winter scene suggests<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> death and decay, -cold, moisture, overheated and ill-ventilated rooms. The feelings -aroused by these things when we actually experience them are likely to -be aroused now when these thoughts, however fleetingly, are reproduced. -For the same reason the cold sensation of touching a corpse is -accompanied by a feeling differing from that of touching a piece of ice. -It is a different thing to see a stream of blood or of cherry juice, and -in a lesser degree even of cherry juice or milk. In every case a -multitude of memories influence our feelings, or lead us directly into a -train of thought of pleasant or unpleasant character. Thus the feelings -which have their first origin in a simple percept may become exceedingly -complicated.</p> - -<p>An especially important consideration is that these feelings increase in -intensity and finally become more conspicuous than the memories by which -they are aroused. A house in which I experienced an unpleasant scene -finally arouses unpleasantness directly, without any mediation by the -consciousness of that event. This kind of transference of feeling is -particularly noticeable when the same feeling is aroused by many -different memories, quite unconnected among themselves, though attached -to the same percept. No better illustration of this law can be found -than the feelings accompanying the thought of money. From early -childhood all through life man learns that it is money and again money -on which the realization of his desires depends. A definite memory of -any of these special experiences soon becomes impossible because of the -competition among them. But the pleasantness originally aroused by them -is not lost. It attaches itself directly to money. In a similar manner -our love for our parents, our friends, our home, and so on, originates.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span> -A reverent child may reject as a brutal theory the statement that he -loves his parents because of the innumerable benefits received from -them, that this love is but a kind of precipitation of all the pleasures -derived from the actions of his parents and from his living with them. -This rejection is in so far justified as the child’s love is not a -conscious deduction from the memory of benefits received. Nevertheless, -it is quite certain that his love is in some way naturally derived from -them. Children who are brought up by foster parents, if they are as well -taken care of as by real parents, love them equally well.</p> - -<p>We have pointed out that the idea of <i>I</i> is almost omnipresent in our -thought, and that it constantly influences our feelings. To understand -this influence better, we may distinguish two relations between <i>I</i> and -the rest of our thought, according as this or the <i>I</i> is the predominant -part of our consciousness. The former case may be illustrated by our -perceiving the movements, gestures, and voice-sounds of a person or of -an animal as the expressions of conscious motives. Even into the -percepts of inorganic things the idea of <i>I</i> is carried in a similar -manner. We speak of a bridge boldly swinging across the river, a -mountain rising proudly to the clouds, a beam resting heavily on -columns, lines crowding together or leaning against each other, tones -hiding before and seeking each other. We attribute contents of the <i>I</i> -to the things which we perceive; we give them mental life, feeling, and -conduct, and experience in consequence further responses of our own life -of feeling. In such cases, the influence of the <i>I</i> on our thought is -obvious, but it does not predominate. On the other hand, the idea of <i>I</i> -may be predominant, but may receive its special coloring from the data -presented: as when I feel the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span> tragic fate of a hero, not merely through -the sympathy or admiration which it arouses in me, but as my own pain; -when in the stress and striving of a Faust I feel my own dreams and -desires; when the precipice pulls me down or the towering rock uplifts -me.</p> - -<p>Since the idea of <i>I</i> is so influential for our life of feeling, it is -to be expected that the opposite idea, the idea of the external <i>world</i>, -is also of considerable importance in this respect. Very often we refer -to a thing by merely emphasizing that it is opposed to, different from, -or independent of the <i>self</i>. We frequently speak of <i>the world and its -ways</i>, of <i>the course of the world</i>, meaning all its sense and nonsense, -its kindness and cruelty. Naturally, this idea of the world also gives -rise to many complicated feelings.</p> - -<h5><a name="sbhed_3-7" id="sbhed_3-7">3.</a> <i>Irradiation of Feeling</i></h5> - -<p>We mentioned above that feeling is easily transferred from one percept -or idea—its <i>substratum</i>—to another one which is associated with the -first. A special form of this law of feeling may be called irradiation -of feeling. A disagreeable message received early in the morning may -spoil the whole day; the news of a great success may for some time give -to every other experience a joyful aspect. Not that the unpleasant or -pleasant event is constantly recalled. It is recalled now and then; and -the feeling may be more intense at these moments. But the feeling does -not depend on this recall. It attaches itself to any other substratum, -even to one which is scarcely in any way related to the first. I have -been vexed by an employee’s failure to carry out an order in the proper -way and by the resulting consequences. Now I am provoked to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span> anger by -everything that happens, by a harmless question of a child, by the visit -of a friend who is ordinarily welcome, by the happy looks of a neighbor, -by the fly on the wall, not least by myself, being so stupid and so -deficient in self-control that I give room to all this unpleasantness.</p> - -<p>So many-sided are the complications of our life of feeling. The -contents, their mutual relations, their connections in the past, the -prevailing impressions of the present, all these are conditions on which -our feeling depends.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>179. Illustrate the independence of form feeling and content -feeling.</p> - -<p>180. Explain the pleasantness of unity in variety.</p> - -<p>181. Give examples of unity in variety.</p> - -<p>182. Illustrate feeling based on association of ideas.</p> - -<p>183. What examples are given in the text of transference of -feeling?</p> - -<p>184. What are the two relations between the <i>I</i> and the rest of our -thought, important for our feeling?</p> - -<p>185. What is irradiation of feeling?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_20" id="hed_20">20</a>. <span class="smcap">Emotions</span></h4> - -<p>Our preceding discussion shows that an exhaustive description of all our -complicated feelings is an enormous task. We cannot enter upon it here. -But certain classes of feelings may be described in more detail; namely, -emotions and moods.</p> - -<p>Those feelings which are based on associated ideas, and which rise at -once to great intensity, are called emotions. This definition is -somewhat deficient in so far as it is difficult to draw the line which -exactly separates<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span> great from small intensity and a quick from a slow -rise of intensity. Nevertheless, the stormy character of certain -feelings not directly attached to sensory stimulation is so conspicuous -that a special name is desirable. Anger, fright, distress, and hilarity -are such feelings: hilarity distinctly pleasant, fright and distress -equally unpleasant; anger also unpleasant, yet mixed sometimes with a -certain amount of pleasure. The feeling and the consciousness of its -cause are usually so intense in an emotion that there is little room for -coherent thought. The judgment of a person in a state of emotion is -narrow; his actions may be called shortsighted.</p> - -<p>Those feelings which become separated from their original perceptual or -ideational substratum and attach themselves to any other kind of -perception or ideation—no matter what feelings properly belong to -these—are called moods. They are usually, probably because of the -separation mentioned, of small intensity. But their duration is often -very extended. As typical examples may be mentioned grudge, worry, -dejection, and cheerfulness.</p> - -<p>Like all feelings, emotions and moods are in some way related to motor -activity. Of particular interest here are not the purposive movements, -which are by no means absent, but a large number of muscular activities -seemingly of little or no usefulness, resulting from inherited nervous -connections. In so far as these muscular activities become outwardly -noticeable they are called the expressions of the emotions or moods. The -angry man instinctively clinches his fist, the hilarious fellow dances -about. Laughing, weeping, wrinkling of the forehead, and blushing are -further expressions of this class. Contraction of the muscle fibers in -the skin causes goose flesh, or the hair to stand on end. Breathing -undergoes changes, becoming<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span> quicker or slower than normal. The blood -vessels expand or diminish in size through the activity of the muscle -fibers in their walls, causing the subject to look red or pale, to feel -warm or cold, and in the latter case to shiver. Secretion of saliva, -perspiration, and secretion of the lachrymal glands may result from the -changes in the circulation of the blood. Fatigue, nausea, lack of -appetite, and other symptoms of internal processes may occur.</p> - -<p>These phenomena were almost entirely neglected by the older psychology, -although their significance was understood by physicians. More recently -their psychological import has been recognized and even overestimated. -It has been said that these phenomena not only occur in emotions, but -<i>are</i> the emotions; that the emotions consist in the organic sensations -resulting from these reflex muscular activities (theory of James and -Lange). We do not weep because we are sorry, but we are sorry because we -weep. We do not tremble because we fear a pistol held up before us, but -we are frightened because we tremble. Two arguments favor this view. Let -all bodily symptoms be gone, and the strongest emotion is gone too. -Anger without clinching the hand is no anger. While I am sitting calmly -on a chair, smiling, I cannot be angry. And further, when the bodily -symptoms are exactly imitated or produced by drugs or by nervous -disease, the emotion is there. Alcohol makes a person hilarious and -courageous without any perception of the kind which usually produces -this effect. Certain poisons or mania cause rage very much like that -produced by an insult.</p> - -<p>However, these facts do not prove that an emotion contains nothing else -than organic sensations. It is obvious that, according to the laws of -association, the contents of an emotion must be reproduced by those -organic sensations<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span> which were present innumerable times when that -emotion was present. The organic sensations resulting from poisons or -mania perhaps call up an idea of an insult, and the complete emotion of -anger naturally follows. Because of the firmly established associations, -it is also to be expected that the voluntary substitution of a different -set of organic sensations interferes with a present emotion. -Introspection makes it clear that an emotion contains much more than a -mere group of organic sensations.</p> - -<p>The instinctive motor activities characteristic of the various emotions -may be classified under two headings: excitation and depression. The -difference is especially noticeable in unpleasant emotions: anger is an -emotion of excitement; fear, as a rule, of depression. But this -distinction is not entirely absent in pleasant emotions. The joy of a -grateful memory is characterized, not indeed by depression, but by a -restfulness very distinct from the excited joy of expectation or the -delight at a present experience, although the pleasantness felt may be -of exactly the same degree of intensity. A careful analysis of these -motor activities must distinguish, not only excitement and depression, -but also their occurrence in either the skeletal or the involuntary -muscles, the muscles of the vascular system. Thus one may distinguish -four classes of emotions, as characterized chiefly by heightened -activity of the skeletal or of the vascular muscles, or by weakened -activity of the skeletal or of the vascular muscles. Symptoms resulting -from abnormal contraction or relaxation of the vascular muscles are, for -example, a person’s growing pallid, or blushing, and the corresponding -sensations of cold and warmth.</p> - -<p>Two other concepts relating to the emotional life deserve to be -mentioned, temperament and passion. Temperaments<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span> are inherited -tendencies of the life of feeling in special directions. Since ancient -times four have been distinguished: the sanguine, bilious (choleric), -melancholic (atrabilious), phlegmatic (lymphatic). The ancients held -that temperament is conditioned on the predominance of one of the four -humors, the blood, lymph, yellow bile, and black bile. This is of course -pure speculation of a prescientific period. But the distinction of the -four classes agrees well with common observation, although mixed forms -of temperament are more common than the pure types. People are either -optimistically or pessimistically inclined. The sanguine and the -phlegmatic are the optimists, the bilious and the melancholic the -pessimists. On the other hand, some people are excitable, impetuous, -others are not easily aroused. The sanguine and the bilious are quickly -excited, the melancholic and the phlegmatic are calm and sluggish.</p> - -<p>Passions are acquired dispositions toward special kinds of pleasant -experiences. We might say that they are foreseeing, voluntary emotions. -We speak of the passion of the gambler, the smoker, the collector, the -lover. One may also compare an emotion with an acute disease, a passion -with a chronic disease. Animals, too, possess emotions, as joy, fear, -and rage. But it seems that they are not sufficiently capable of -anticipating emotions to be said to possess passions.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>186. How are emotions defined?</p> - -<p>187. How does an emotion influence coherent thought?</p> - -<p>188. How are moods defined?</p> - -<p>189. Mention a number of moods and an equal number of emotions, -each comparable to one of the moods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span></p> - -<p>190. What four classes of motor activities characteristic of -emotions are distinguished in the text?</p> - -<p>191. What motor activities are called expressions?</p> - -<p>192. Give examples of expressions of emotion.</p> - -<p>193. Give examples of motor activities which are not expressions of -emotion, but nevertheless of much significance for the subject’s -experience of an emotion.</p> - -<p>194. What is temperament?</p> - -<p>195. What is a passion?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_21" id="hed_21">21</a>. <span class="smcap">Complications of Willing</span></h4> - -<p>We have shown in an earlier chapter how voluntary—that is, -foreseeing—actions develop out of instincts. Sensations result from the -instinctive action, are associated with those other impressions which -called forth the instinctive response, can then be reproduced by them, -and can themselves produce the action. When an action is thus foreseen, -it is called voluntary. Such simple voluntary actions are then combined -into complicated groups and chain-like progressions. The conscious -result of the first movement calls up the idea of a further movement, -its execution that of a third movement, and so on. Serial activities of -this kind often go on for a long time; for example, walking, eating, -dressing, writing, sewing, rowing. As experience of the relations -between the external things and practice in the performance advance, -such serial actions become more and more perfect in several respects. -Their conscious anticipation is more and more extended, so that they may -be adapted to very remote consequences, the occurrence of which is not -expected until days or weeks afterward. They are more and more refined -in that they adjust themselves accurately in direction, speed, and force -to the special circumstances of each case. They are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span> performed in less -time and more economically; all detail movements which are either wrong -or merely superfluous come to be entirely omitted.</p> - -<p>That the conscious processes in voluntary movements tend toward -simplification has been mentioned in <a href="#hed_10">§ 10</a>. A whole series of movements, -which was originally performed by each movement being consciously -anticipated in order, is now performed without further consciousness as -soon as the series has once begun. One fact, however, is highly -interesting in this connection because it shows how the several -movements of the series are actually caused. Although consciousness of -all those anticipations of the movements is no longer required, the -physiological sensory functions must run their course in the normal -order or disturbances occur in the movement. This may be demonstrated in -an animal by cutting all the sensory nerves of a limb, but carefully -leaving all the motor nerves intact. The limb nevertheless appears -paralyzed. A similar case in man has been described by Strümpell. A -workman received a knife wound in the spinal cord. Complete recovery -occurred, with the exception that the right hand and lower arm remained -perfectly anesthetic: no kind of cutaneous or organic sensation was any -longer perceived. The muscles of the hand and arm functioned almost -normally. But movements, even very moderately complicated, could no -longer be performed unless the man saw his hand and its movement. The -illustration (figure 18) shows his behavior when requested to form a -ring with his thumb and index finger. He could do this fairly well when -permitted to look at his hand. Otherwise it was impossible, in spite of -his will and the muscular capacity to perform this action. We see, then, -that the peripheral impressions are necessary to bring about the several -partial<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span> movements in this case of acquired serial activity, although -these impressions have long ceased to become conscious whenever the act -is done.</p> - -<p><a name="fig_18" id="fig_18"></a></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 261px;"> -<a href="images/i_175_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_175_sml.jpg" width="261" height="402" alt="Fig. 18.—Visual and Kinesthetic Control of Voluntary -Action: the Former Intact, the Latter Lost." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">Fig. 18.—Visual and Kinesthetic Control of Voluntary -Action: the Former Intact, the Latter Lost.</span> -</div> - -<p>When we anticipate a final result of an extended series of movements, it -frequently happens that the movement which directly leads to that result -is, for one cause or other, not immediately possible. Imagine that a -person for the first time sees some one pulling a cork from a bottle, -pouring some of the contents into a glass, and inviting him to drink. -Seeing the bottle again calls up in his mind the idea of a delicious -beverage and the movement of drinking. But drinking is impossible, for -there is no glass, and the bottle is corked. In such a case the idea of -the result, which because of its importance is being kept constantly in -mind, unrolls the total series of ideas in the reverse<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span> order. It calls -up first the thoughts directly preceding the final result, then the -thoughts preceding these, and so on, until an idea is reached which can -be realized by a movement. In our example the person becomes conscious -of the idea of pulling the cork, of the corkscrew used for this purpose, -the place where the corkscrew was found hanging, the movements of -preparing it for the task, and a similar set of ideas for the glass; and -he thus becomes able to carry out the whole series of movements which -result in the taste of the beverage.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>196. Give examples of serial activities of the foreseeing kind.</p> - -<p>197. In what ways are activities of the kind just mentioned -perfected?</p> - -<p>198. What is the relation of sensory activity, consciousness, and -performance in perfected serial movements?</p> - -<p>199. Illustrate by a pathological case the relation just spoken of.</p> - -<p>200. What rule is illustrated by the example in the text of pulling -a cork from a bottle?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_22" id="hed_22">22</a>. <span class="smcap">Freedom of Conduct</span></h4> - -<p>As experience of the connections, complications, and consequences of -things advances, the ideas called up by any impression must clearly -become very numerous. Ideas of near and remote, probable and improbable, -desirable and undesirable, consequences,—ideas of fit and unfit, direct -and indirect means of bringing about or preventing those -consequences,—ideas of difficulties and obstacles, facilities and -openings must tend to appear, to compete with each other, to disappear -and reappear in rapid succession, or merely to approach consciousness -ready to appear when their services should be needed. We refer to these -various<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span> mental states, according as they appear in one or another form -of connection, by such terms as <i>reflecting</i>, <i>considering</i>, <i>choosing</i>, -<i>desiring</i>, <i>rejecting</i>, <i>intending</i>, <i>deciding</i>, and many others, all -having in common the foreseeing of something to be experienced in the -future as the result of our action.</p> - -<p>What action occurs in each possible case depends on the relative force -of the factors coming into play. The actual sensory impression is as a -rule a rather insignificant factor. It sets free the ideas derived from -innumerable previous sensory impressions. The resulting action is then -nearly always extremely different from the instinctive reaction -belonging to the sensory stimulation. Such actions, resulting -essentially from factors <i>within</i> the mind, not from external factors -which happen to impress the mind at the moment, are called <i>free</i> -actions. Their freedom does not mean that they have no causation, that -they are free of causes, but they are free of the compulsion exerted by -the external stimuli of the moment. They are free actions as opposed to -instinctive actions, which are not free of these stimuli of the moment, -but on the contrary, completely determined by them.</p> - -<p>Scholastic philosophy—and popular thought, which is still largely under -the influence of that philosophy—recognizes still another kind of -freedom of the mind. It assumes that mind, under the impression of -perfectly definite external conditions and with perfectly definite -internal motives of thought and action, possesses the faculty of -deciding in favor of the action opposed to its own motives and of -enforcing this action. This faculty of an absolutely causeless willing -is assumed to be added to all the other external and internal factors -determining action or, as the case may be, suppressing action. Such a -faculty we cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span> accept, since according to our most fundamental -conceptions <i>mind</i> is not a being added to its experiences, but the -totality of its experiences, in so far as it knows itself; whereas it is -called <i>brain</i> in so far as it is known by other minds. The arguments -brought forward in favor of a freedom of the will in the sense of a -possibility of causeless action are inacceptable to the psychologist -because they would make a psychological science impossible. -Nevertheless, it is worth while to discuss the more important ones -briefly.</p> - -<p>Three arguments are most commonly offered. First, immediate experience -tells us that, whenever we decide in favor of one action, we could have -decided differently. We were conscious of the possibility of acting -otherwise. The second and third arguments are of a practical nature. -According to the second, the idea of a uniformly effective causation of -our actions paralyzes our activity. If everything takes place by -necessity, the idea of influencing the physical world or human society -becomes meaningless. No one can believe in determination of our action -and at the same time make an effort to instruct and educate people to -act differently. Thirdly, no one can be held responsible for his actions -if he could not help performing them. If all actions are causally -determined, punishment becomes mere cruelty.</p> - -<p>The first argument fails because our immediate experience under no -conditions informs us exactly as to what caused and what did not cause -our actions. We have just seen that a serial movement cannot be carried -out unless constant sensory impressions are received from the progress -of the partial movements. Immediate experience gives us no information -about this necessity, which was entirely unsuspected until physiological -experiment and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span> pathological observation revealed the fact. Immediate -experience tells a person who in his boarding house praises a very -ordinary dinner in exaggerated terms, that <i>he might have kept silent</i> -as he usually does—he does not remember that the evening before when he -was in a state of hypnosis a suggestion was given to him to praise his -dinner the following day. Everybody else knows that he will, that he -must, do it. He alone thinks, on the basis of his immediate experience, -that it was an act of free will without causation. It was free, -uncaused, in the same sense in which the issue of a disease, the outcome -of a war, the weather, the crops, are free and uncaused; that is, <i>he -was ignorant of the cause</i>.</p> - -<p>Paralysis of activity is said to be the consequence of a belief in -universal causation. But surely the energetic and ambitious man is not -paralyzed by this belief. He feels that he is the tool used by nature to -shape the destinies of the world. How could a consciousness of his -importance in the causal connections of events paralyze his activity? -The idle and indolent may excuse his lack of activity by saying that it -is his nature to love inactivity, that he cannot help it. But who would -have any more respect for him on that account? Of course it is not his -belief in universal causation that makes him indolent. The lesson from -history is very significant in this respect, but it must not be read -one-sidedly. It is all right to point out that the fatalistic Islam is -losing piece after piece of its dominion. But the same fatalistic Islam -also conquered a world and for centuries kept all Europe in terror. Thus -it cannot be its fatalism that determined both its rise and its -downfall. In recent years, did the belief in predestination make the -Boers less energetic than the belief in freedom the orthodox Spaniards?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span></p> - -<p>We must say, then, that in general neither belief is of much practical -significance. But as a guide in special cases the belief in universal -causation is by far preferable. What can give more encouragement to the -educator than the conviction that his efforts will bear fruit in one way -or other because they must help to shape and direct his pupil’s -activities in later life? What can be more discouraging than the belief -that, whatever may be his efforts, they are just as likely to be lost on -his pupil as to be effective, since the latter has the faculty of -causelessly acting either in one way or in the opposite way?</p> - -<p>The third argument asserts that universal causation is incompatible with -responsibility. But what do we mean by responsibility? Nothing but the -fact that society, if it can do so, will punish its members for certain -deeds. Why should a belief in universal causation prevent society from -punishing its members? Bismarck writes in a letter to his sister: “It is -not the wolf’s fault that God has created him as he is. That does not -prevent us from killing him whenever we can.” Holding a person -responsible, punishing or rewarding him, does not lose its meaning if we -regard his actions as being determined by causes. We do not then hold -him responsible for the single act, but for his being so natured that -under such circumstances he cannot help committing such a deed. The -question becomes this: What is the more plausible reason for punishing a -person, his abnormal deed or his abnormal, unsocial nature which made -this deed possible?</p> - -<p>It is true that punishment dealt out by an individual or a small group -is often merely an instinctive act of revenge for a single deed. If a -person beats me, do I have less pain if I beat him and cause him pain -too? Should a gambler beat the roulette because it makes him lose and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span> -the other man gain? Would the roulette act differently for having been -beaten? Am I sure that the person whose beating me was undetermined by -causes will treat me better the next time? If his actions are caused, he -probably will treat me better because the memory of the blows received -from me will act as a cause. The instinct of returning blows would be -incomprehensible if human action were independent of causes.</p> - -<p>But the legal punishment dealt out by the officers of a nation has lost -the significance of an instinctive act of revenge. Does this fact make -it compatible with the doctrine of causeless activity? Would not -punishment, under this doctrine, be cruelty pure and simple? Punishment -can be justified only if it can act as a cause determining human -behavior. Society introduces fear of threatened punishment and memory of -suffered punishment as motives into the mental life of its members, in -order to inhibit criminal actions in those who are so natured that they -will commit acts inimical to society when occasion offers, or when they -are tempted. The degree of the penalty is adapted to the effectiveness -of the temptation under different circumstances. Children and -intoxicated and insane persons are treated in a different manner because -the fundamental condition of punishment—the existence of an idea of -punishment capable of serving as a motive of action—is not fulfilled in -them. All this becomes entirely purposeless, meaningless, if we accept -the doctrine that human actions are not completely determined by causes. -Responsibility, social order, and law, far from being called in question -by determinism, are, on the contrary, dependent on it for their -justification.</p> - -<p>Indeterminism, the doctrine of causeless activity of the mind, of -freedom of a will which is regarded as an entity<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span> added to the contents -of the mind, is no better supported by these special arguments than by -general considerations. More than a hundred years ago Priestley said of -this doctrine: “There is no absurdity more glaring to my understanding.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>201. Give at least a dozen words all meaning the foreseeing of a -future experience resulting from action.</p> - -<p>202. How are free actions defined?</p> - -<p>203. What other name is mentioned in the text for unfree, -compulsory action, a name which has already been much used in a -previous chapter?</p> - -<p>204. What are the three arguments mentioned in favor of the -assumption that causeless action is possible?</p> - -<p>205. What do we learn from a post-hypnotic suggestion with respect -to the question of free will?</p> - -<p>206. Give examples from history showing that both energy and -indolence are independent of theories about the will.</p> - -<p>207. Can the belief in causeless activity be expected to contribute -to educational endeavor? Give reasons for your answer.</p> - -<p>208. What is the aim of legal punishment? How is this aim related -to the doctrine of causeless activity?</p> - -<p>209. Why are children not made subject to legal punishment?</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> -<small>HIGHEST ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS</small></h2> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_23" id="hed_23">23</a>. <span class="smcap">Evils of Knowledge</span></h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">Into</span> the remotest distances, spatial and temporal, mind penetrates -through the accumulation and theoretical elaboration of experiences. -Knowledge may be obtained of the names and the deeds of Assyrian kings, -of the shape of the oceans and the continents thousands and hundreds of -thousands of years ago, of eclipses of the sun and the moon, of the -appearance of the starry sky for any number of years hence. Knowledge -means power. Insight into the relations of things enables the mind to -adapt itself more perfectly to them. Science and industrial development -are the results of this advancement of mental activity.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, it is not exclusively happiness that is thus gained. So -complicated is mind that what contributes to its welfare and removes -obstacles to its well-being, at the same time creates new sources of -unhappiness, which call for new means, new methods, of relief. “La -prévoyance, la prévoyance,” complains Rousseau, “voilà la véritable -source de toutes nos misères.” We must make allowance for the -exaggeration necessary to make the desired impression; but even then -there is much truth in Rousseau’s words. Not all evils spring from -prescience, but a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span> many do. Three classes of unintended and -unpleasant effects of knowledge anticipating future events may be -described.</p> - -<p>As our knowledge expands we become more and more impressed with the -narrow limits placed on this expansion, with our insuperable impotence -in so many respects. To a child, who knows little and accomplishes -little, his inability, his helplessness, does not give much concern. It -is the prevalent, one may even say normal, condition of his life, and -therefore scarcely gives rise to unpleasant feelings. But the -experienced adult, in the full consciousness of his knowledge, of the -advantage which this gives to him, strives to know everything, to extend -his power over everything. And he is constrained to learn that he will -never come near this end. His prescience, the source of so much pleasant -feeling, becomes thus a source of immense unpleasantness. Highly -important relations of things remain in almost total darkness. Not even -the next day’s weather can be foretold, not the issue of the imminent -battle, not the bent of the woman he woos. How numerous are the things -against which he is almost powerless: human enemies, wild beasts, storm, -earthquake, fire, flood, famine, a host of diseases, and last of all the -inevitable death. He foresees all the terrors, aware of their power over -him. This must fill his life with anxiety and bitterness. “He whose eye -is so keen that he sees the dead in their graves, no longer sees the -flowers blooming.”</p> - -<p>Other evils have their sources, not directly in the mind’s foreseeing, -but in the limitations of foreseeing activity. The most fundamental aims -of human activity are self-preservation and the preservation of the -species. But our feelings indicate that a third class of activities are -essential for the completeness of human life, although their -contribution<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span> to self-preservation and to preservation of the race seems -to be limited. The aim of these activities perhaps is only a training of -our powers of attention, of unifying in consciousness a number of -impressions which indirectly might benefit the two aims first mentioned. -Even primitive man devotes a considerable part of his activity to the -production of these effects—esthetic impressions from colors, from -tones, from symmetry, from rhythm. He ties feathers into his hair, dyes -his clothes, and constructs his implements in symmetrical design without -being forced by their use to do this. He works rhythmically, either -himself or with others; he dances, thus uniting successive movements -into regularly repeated groups. But those activities which serve the -purpose of self-preservation and race-preservation directly, often -occupy his mental energies so exclusively that no time is left for the -exercise of these esthetic tendencies. Their suppression then results in -deeply felt unpleasantness.</p> - -<p>The activities of preservation are a source of evil in still another -way. Whatever pleasure they may give, they do not give a lasting peace. -As soon as one goal is reached, it appears as a mere stepping stone to a -further one. Why does the merchant earn money? In order to earn more -money! The fisherman’s wife in the fairy tale, who had been beggarly -poor all her life, did not enjoy the comfortable cottage given to her -for more than eight days. Then it appeared small and homely to her, and -she desired a castle. This obtained, it took only a day to have her wish -to be king. And immediately after the satisfaction of this desire, she -asked to be made emperor. It is true, not every one is always thus rent -by his cravings: the fairy tale places the sober husband at the side of -the greedy woman. But a ceaseless, insatiable longing seems to be,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span> in -varying intensities, a normal element of human nature. When the -attainment of a further end appears clearly impossible, a quiet -enjoyment of one’s possessions may be the natural consequence; but even -then there is no lasting peace, for the tormenting experience of tedium -takes the place of unsatisfied longing.</p> - -<p>A third class of evils take their origin from the effects of foreseeing -activity, not only on the acting person, but chiefly on the other -members of society. The natural endowment of different individuals for -the struggle of preservation differs greatly and results in -corresponding differences of achievement. In small communities, for -instance in the family, the favorable results obtained by one are shared -by all. But as larger social groups are formed, this becomes impossible. -The results of the individual’s labor remain with him or at least within -a smaller circle. This is the origin of property. Certain members of the -social group not only procure more, but through the possession of -desirable things become able to hire others to work for them. This -enables them to increase still more the rate of accumulation of wealth. -Thus a chasm is opened between masters and servants. However, his nature -compels man to seek the companionship of other men, and this tends to -bridge over the chasm. But between one community and another community a -similar chasm remains. To steal from the members of another community, -to rob them by force, to make war upon them and carry off the plunder, -is the same as to rob an apple tree of its fruit or to kill a sheep. -Property thus obtained naturally passes into the hands of the masters, -increasing their own and their offspring’s powers. The final result is -the existence of enormous contrasts: blessedness of a few and -wretchedness of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span> multitude. The total balance is bad: there is more -evil in the world than good.</p> - -<p>Of course, those who have secured their masterships will say: Why should -it be otherwise? Why should a low level of development of human life in -all be preferable to a vastly higher development of a few and a still -lower one of all the rest? And those youths who are not yet masters, but -feel confident of being destined to become masters, readily applaud. -There are, however, at least two objections to this view. First, we must -remember that all human thought and feeling is determined by the laws of -association. The masters cannot help seeing the wretched condition of -the slaves, and must thus suffer themselves, although much less. This -interferes with the enjoyment of their privileged condition. But the -diminution of their happiness on this account may amount to little if -they avoid the sight of poverty whenever possible; and that part of it -which they cannot avoid seeing, they get accustomed to.</p> - -<p>The following objection is more serious. The slaves are not likely to -adopt the view of their masters that the contrast of their positions is -the natural and just outcome of their respective endowment with bodily -and mental abilities. They easily notice that this is only partly true. -Especially the rewarding of sons for the merits of their fathers or -grandfathers does not find favor with them. Their practical -belief—supported by the strongest desires and nourished by the -comparison of their own condition with that of the masters—keeps before -their minds ideas of improving their lot, even of becoming masters -themselves. The authoritative belief in the excellence of the present -status, in spite of generations having become accustomed to this status, -loses thus much<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span> of its force. The slave class is restless and little to -be relied on; therefore it must be bridled. The chasm between the -classes becomes an abyss. Coöperation between all the members of -society, though instinctively wished for and so necessary, is made -impossible. A whole nation is torn up; its resistance toward attack from -outside is diminished. The strongest people is one whose motto is: all -for one, each for all; sooner or later it will overthrow the other. If -this does not happen, the internal stress is likely at some time to -become too great: the slaves rise and sweep the masters away. In either -case the existing society is destroyed.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding the happiness which our foreseeing activity gives us, it -carries with it three classes of evils: resulting from the limits of our -knowledge, from the limits to which our activity is subject, from the -contrast and enmity between social classes. Are there any ways for our -mind to overcome these evils? There are some, not absolutely -exterminating them, but at least restraining them, keeping them within -bounds.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>210. What are the three evils originating from the evolution of the -foreseeing mind?</p> - -<p>211. What are the two subdivisions of the limitation to which our -active tendencies are subject?</p> - -<p>212. Why does the third class of these evils not exist in small -communities?</p> - -<p>213. What are the two objections to the theory which regards the -division of society into masters and slaves as entirely -satisfactory? Which of these objections is the stronger one?</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span></p> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_24" id="hed_24">24</a>. <span class="smcap">Religion</span></h4> - -<p>Aid against the evils resulting from the limits of knowledge is sought -by the human mind in religion. When fire threatens our property, we -think of water; when the enemy presses upon us in battle, we think of -our comrade. By analogy, when we are under the pressure of uncertainty, -in the terror of a great danger, we think of some person or some power -that might aid us. We have seen previously that primitive man regards -everything as animated and every event as caused by motives like his -own. He regards himself as a double being made up of a heavy body and an -exceedingly light, shadow-like thing, a soul. In his dreams he -recognizes clearly the independence of the two: the soul leaves the -body, flies to known and unknown regions, and experiences there the -strangest things. Likewise in death. To-day a certain person talks, -moves about, does good or harm; to-morrow the same person lies stiff. It -is true that one cannot see the cause of this change, but the simplest -explanation is obviously that something, the bearer of his powers, has -escaped from the body and now rests invisibly elsewhere. Furthermore, -are there not those who feel that they are possessed of a demon who -compels them to roll about on the ground in convulsions or to attack -other people?</p> - -<p>Accordingly, man populates everything between heaven and earth, animals -and plants, rocks and logs, lakes and streams, the phenomena of the -weather, and the constellations, with demons, ghosts, departed souls, -specters. These beings are thought of as possessing human-like powers, -many of them, however, far mightier than man, handling all those things -of which nature consists in a manner similar to man’s handling of his -own property. Some have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span> asserted that man animates the world because of -an irrepressible desire for theoretical explanation. But this is -scarcely true. Primitive man has no such longing for theories. He does -it simply for the sake of his practical interests: in order to make use -of the things of nature, he must first comprehend them; and what manner -of comprehending them would be preferable to humanizing them? If the -things are like men of his acquaintance, he knows how to obtain their -favor, their aid. His belief in these demons is a practical belief like -the belief of a mother in the future of her son. These demons must -exist, for he would have to give up the struggle for life, perplexed, -helpless, if they did not exist—if the world were a mass of -incomprehensible objects.</p> - -<p>Naturally he distinguishes two kinds of demons, as he distinguishes two -kinds of men, good and bad. Those who are malicious and hostile bring -all the distress of diseases and terrible events, from which he cannot -defend himself by his own power. The best one can hope to obtain from -these demons is that they stop exerting their evil influence. Man lives -in constant fear of them. The demons of the other kind are friendly and -helpful. They assist man in his defense against the fiends and in his -fight with other men; and they permit him to participate in their -knowledge of the future. They are reliable. One is grateful to them and -loves them. In the most primitive stage of mankind fear prevails, and -therefore also the belief in harmful ghosts and demons. On a higher -level of culture, advancing insight into the causal relations of natural -events brings about more self-reliance, more hope, and consequently also -a growing belief in benevolent demons. Both fear and love, however, -remain characteristic of the attitude of man toward his gods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span></p> - -<p>In order to obtain the good will of the gods, man naturally treats them -as he would treat his neighbors. He must earnestly pray to them, flatter -them, perhaps also threaten them, promise gifts in exchange for their -aid, vow continued faith and obedience, especially make them presents in -advance. Prayer, vows, and sacrifice are the means of approaching them. -Soon another thought becomes prevalent. In cases where the influence of -demons seems particularly conspicuous, in mental diseases, certain -persons show themselves much more skilful than the majority in -establishing relations with them and thus curing these diseases. One -naturally employs these persons in one’s relations to the gods. The -medicine man becomes a priest. And he soon establishes himself firmly in -this position by inventing mysterious ceremonies with which he alone is -familiar, and by acquiring the ability to read and interpret sacred -books. His authority, however, rests on his doing what the people expect -from their gods: he must possess prophecy and witchcraft. Even the -apostles prove their legitimacy by prophesying and performing miraculous -cures.</p> - -<p>Fear and misery are the parents of religion; and, although it is -propagated in the main through authority, it would long ago have become -extinct, if it were not born anew out of them all the time. In times of -need and oppression religion grows strong. The churches are full, -pilgrimages are common, in wars or epidemics. In battle, in disease, -aboard a sinking ship, many a one learns to pray. Some fear or some need -is always present. Even the highest wisdom and power can only repress, -never exterminate these. Therefore they have always brought forth -religion and will always do so, provided one does not clumsily attempt -to change human nature.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span></p> - -<p>Prayer and sacrifice are not invariably followed by success. But aid -requested from human beings also is often refused, so that explanations -for the lack of success are not wanting. Perhaps the prayer was not -fervent enough, the sacrifice not offered in the correct manner or at -the right place. Or the supplicant has offended the god; it is only to -be expected that he is thus punished for the offense. Or the god, -knowing his most secret failings, wishes to test his faith, his piety, -in case all worldly goods and even health are lost. The gods are -all-wise: who could understand them and their actions completely? Now -and then, when the pious continue to suffer and the godless to prosper, -religion is exposed to a serious danger. But religious faith has found -the solution of this problem, not everywhere on earth, but here and -there; and out of a secret doctrine of certain sects of ancient Greece -this solution has become a gospel spread all over the earth: even that -hope which remains unsatisfied at the time of death will find its -realization. Man’s soul is eternal, is only temporarily united with the -body, and when separated from it will continue to live forever. The -pious must prepare himself for the future life by turning away from -bodily pleasure toward God, by suffering. The godless, who has failed to -prepare himself, finds eternal punishment waiting for him.</p> - -<p>Under primitive cultural conditions, when everybody has to do every kind -of labor for himself, the same régime is applied to the gods. They do -not differ much in their abilities, although one can do this, the other -that, somewhat better. They are an unorganized crowd like mankind, -fighting each other and forming alliances for this purpose. When human -societies become established, the gods become differentiated. There are -masters and servants,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span> various professions. Complications arising from -such occurrences as subjection of one nation to another and a consequent -assimilation of their religions, change but little the trend of this -development. Of greater influence are the growth of morality and the -advance of scientific knowledge.</p> - -<p>When man establishes a moral ideal for himself, he applies it to his -gods. His gods become moral examples. They no longer require bloody -sacrifices, but a clean heart and good deeds. And since there is only -one morality, and morality is the chief attribute of Deity, there can be -only one God. All those great religious teachers who contributed to the -moral development of religion, the Jewish prophets, Zoroaster, Plato, -accepted monotheism.</p> - -<p>When scientific knowledge advances, when more and more of the phenomena -of nature are found to obey simple laws, daring philosophers assert and -convince others that all natural phenomena obey such laws, that nothing -in nature depends on the whims of human-like wills. Religion, then, -seems to be deprived of its foundations. If God does not arbitrarily -interfere with the laws of nature, how can any aid come from him? -However, the need of religion remains, and religion adapts itself to the -new views of the world. The highest form of religion is the outcome of -this development. Prayer, then, has a purely mental value for him who -prays. It gives him hope, confidence, courage, and thus he succeeds in -accomplishing that of which he seemed incapable without aid. The -witchcraft of the priest is reduced to a purely mental influence. In the -sacrament he brings about a sanctification of the mind. God, far from -being lost from the world, is regarded as the world itself, the source -from which every phenomenon of nature springs. And again religion can -give man what<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span> he longs for, protection from the overpowering unknown, -peace for the restless heart.</p> - -<p>But life is like a hydra: as fast as one head is hewn off, two others -grow. Man overcomes the depression caused by his feeling of impotence by -the help of religion, and immediately has two other troubles besetting -him.</p> - -<p>(1) It is natural that of all the creations of mind religion possesses -the strongest inertia. God is unchangeable. But knowledge is changeable: -our ways of thinking of the world differ greatly from those of a -thousand, five hundred, or a hundred years ago. Much knowledge has -become attached to religion. Shall it remain unchanged on that account? -The resulting disharmony has been felt at all times, in varying degrees -of intensity. The representatives of science cannot help contradicting -the faith of their ancestors; and the priests profess that they alone -possess true knowledge, that the knowledge of the scientists is merely a -mass of hypotheses. Bitter was the struggle about the geocentric system, -and no less bitter more recently was the opposition to the theory of -evolution. During the later centuries of antiquity scientists tried to -comprehend the influence of the sun on plant life by conceiving its -power as emanating and yet constantly remaining in its former strength -at the point of its origin. The early Christian theologists were very -modern in their scientific theories. Could they compare God with -anything else better than with the heavenly body on which all earthly -life depends? So they developed the conception of emanations flowing -from God without diminishing his former powers, that is, the Christian -doctrine of the Trinity. Other religions of the time accepted similar -emanation doctrines: the Philonic philosophy recognized a twofoldness, -the Neo-Platonic a fourfoldness of God.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span> To-day every schoolboy is -taught that the sun cannot produce any effect on earth without losing so -much of its energy. The ancient theory of emanations has long ceased to -have any scientific significance. But the formula exists, and is still -thought by many to be the basal concept of the Christian religion, so -that the dissension is endless.</p> - -<p>(2) Religion is a weapon in the struggle for preservation for him who -possesses it; but it soon becomes a weapon also for the others. It is a -weapon for the priest, who uses it as the physician uses his knowledge -to make a living. There would be little trouble on this account. But -religion is, naturally and unfortunately, a mighty weapon in the hands -of the masters defending their positions against the slaves. Religion -gives peace, quiescence, to the human heart. Religion perhaps teaches -that the splendor of wealth is insignificant, worthless; that the poor -are better off in the future, eternal life, than those who are now rich. -Religion perhaps even teaches that those who do not believe this will be -severely punished in the next life. This is not the original meaning of -the doctrine—that the wretched should remain wretched; it was meant -merely to comfort them in their distress. But the doctrine obviously -permits this application, and so the masters have always eagerly adopted -religion as one of their safest supports, far superior to brutal force, -since it does not incite revolutionary reaction. “Throne and altar” is a -motto of kings. When the servants recognize this effect of religion, -they naturally tend to free themselves of it, and tremendous conflicts -result for human life.</p> - -<p>Will mind succeed in overcoming these difficulties by a new form of -adaptation? We cannot tell how, since thus far it has not succeeded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>214. What does not, and what does, cause man to populate the whole -world with demons and specters?</p> - -<p>215. What is the chief division applied by man to the hosts of -demons? Do the contents of these divisions tend to change -gradually?</p> - -<p>216. How does priesthood originate?</p> - -<p>217. Is it probable that religion will ever cease to exist?</p> - -<p>218. What are the consequences of the fact that prayer and -sacrifice are not always successful?</p> - -<p>219. How does the growth of morality influence religion?</p> - -<p>220. Is science inimical to all religion or to special forms of -religion?</p> - -<p>221. What are the three illustrations given in the text for the -difficulties arising from the attachment of science to religion?</p> - -<p>222. What is illustrated in the text by the quotation “throne and -altar”?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_25" id="hed_25">25</a>. <span class="smcap">Art</span></h4> - -<p>The second class of the evils which we mentioned as resulting from our -foreseeing activities consists in an insufficient occupation of the -active tendencies of the mind. The remedy is found in art, in the -enjoyment of works of art.</p> - -<p>A work of art may cause a pleasant feeling by inciting any of a large -number of mental activities. Beyond giving pleasure it has no purpose. -Choice articles of food, new clothes, a profession yielding a good -income, give us pleasure through their odor, their look, through the -standing they give us in good society. But they please us also, and -indeed chiefly, through their purposes: we need them for our existence. -Because of their purposes they do not give us pure pleasure: they make -us want better food, better clothes, a better position. A work of art, -on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span> other hand, may in some way further our life; but he who enjoys -it is not aware of such a furtherance. He sees no purpose in it. He -experiences a bliss of heaven, not pleasures of the world. The purpose -of art consists in its own unity; it does not draw us away from where we -are. It gives us rest while it keeps us active. The pleasure resulting -from this kind of activity is called esthetic pleasure.</p> - -<p>Many are the origins of art. Religion is doubtless one of them. -Primitive man conceived of some of the most important of his demons as -having their seats in certain species of animals. The possession of -these animals gives witchcraft. But it is difficult to carry them about, -and killing them is of course out of the question. Primitive reasoning -then accepted an image, a picture, as having about the same -effectiveness. So man came to carve such pictures on his weapons to make -them stronger, to carry them hung around his neck to protect him, to -make idols of his gods which he could visibly reward or punish. The -pleasure of seeing these images then gave them a value separate from -their religious applications. Yet pictures of the virgin and of saints -still continue to be used for the earlier purpose. When thus beginning -to be separated from religion, art became again attached to it; for man, -enjoying pictures, offered them as presents to his gods, so that they, -too, might enjoy them. The subject of representation was naturally the -gods themselves, the most sublime subject known to man.</p> - -<p>Another origin of art is play. We said that play is that mass of -instincts, common to man and animals, which brings about an exercise of -the capacities necessary for preservation at a time when no special -purposes demand such exercise. In this absence of a special purpose -consists<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span> the ultimate relation of play and art. But play is not -identical with art, because it is still too serious a matter. The boy -who plays robber and police is not like an actor playing the rôle of a -robber. He really is the robber so far as the advantages, the freedom, -and the power of a robber are concerned; and he enjoys these advantages, -while the actor does not even think of them. The actor, even while -playing the rôle of a king, desires to play the king, not to be the -king. Play, that is, the instinctive activity of play, is intermediate -between art and life, a gateway to the former.</p> - -<p>There are still further sources of art. After having been successful in -his struggle, when he has some leisure, man observes that many things -which he uses as weapons, as tools, for food, and so on, are capable of -giving him pleasure quite aside from their practical significance. He -therefore obtains these things for their own sake. He collects -brilliantly colored feathers, glittering stones and pearls. The -instinctive reactions upon pleasant experiences are discovered to be -pleasant themselves. They are voluntarily repeated. Thus dance and song -originate. In a similar manner, from the descriptions of ordinary life, -tales takes their origin. Symmetry and rhythm are discovered and become -of the greatest importance for the various arts. In spite of the -manifoldness of its origin and its application, we may speak of art in -the singular, because all the different arts have this in common, that -they give joy without serving any conscious purpose.</p> - -<p>In every art three factors may be distinguished on which the feeling -aroused in us depends: the subject-matter or content, the form, and the -personal significance. If the work of art is a picture, it may represent -a battle or a landscape; if a poem, the wanderings of Ulysses or the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span> -story of the Erlking; if music, a waltz or a funeral march. This -subject-matter is given a particular form or structure. The twelve -disciples of the Last Supper may be placed in a simple row or arranged -in groups of various kinds. A church may be built in Roman or Gothic -style. Meter and rhyme differ in various poems. Music may be harmonized -in many different ways. All this refers to the form of art. The third -factor, the personal significance, may be illustrated by the different -moods which speak to us from pictures of the same subject-matter and -similar form, also by the technique chosen by the painter. The picture -may appear to me as an assembly of Jewish fishermen or as an historical -act in which the disciples of the Lord and he himself take part.</p> - -<p>Much could be said about all this in detail. Some important insight into -the relation of the different factors can be obtained from a discussion -of the first one, the subject-matter. How does the artist succeed in -giving us, through his subject-matter, pleasure independent of and free -from any consciousness of purpose? Two ways are open to him. The first -appears most clearly in music. It consists in using contents which play -no part in the world of needs. Musical tones, sung or produced by -instruments, do not contribute to the preservation of man; and therefore -they do not incite our desire. However, when properly combined, they are -capable of arousing the most varied and intense feelings, moods, -emotions. They are thus especially adapted to serve as material, as -contents, of a work of art.</p> - -<p>The second way open to the artist consists in imitation. It prevails in -painting and sculpture, and one may say also in poetry. The contents of -these arts, that is, the subjects described, are indeed things which -arouse our desires.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span> But the desire is cut short through imitation. Not -the real things, but only descriptions of them, are furnished us. Their -affective value is not diminished thereby. It is true, the feelings -depending on the consciousness of purpose are lost; but the rest of the -feelings attain thus a purity and intensity all the greater. We scarcely -enjoy meeting a robber on the highway; on the stage or in a novel we -enjoy it the more. The real rug gives me feelings of a mixed kind when I -think of its price and its durability; the painted rug gives me only -pleasure. Since imitation is so conspicuous in the three arts of -painting, sculpture, and poetry, it has been mistaken to be the aim of -our artistic activity, whereas it is only a means to an end, to the -production of pleasure free from desire. To understand this still more -clearly, we must give attention to three aspects of the problem of -imitation.</p> - -<p>First, imitation must be as true to nature as possible. Feelings are to -be aroused. These feelings are originally attached to the real things. -It is clear, then, that they will be aroused the more readily, the more -similar the work of art is made to reality. A disagreement with nature -causes not merely a weakening of the pleasant feeling, but an unpleasant -feeling, a protest against the artist’s intentionally disforming nature -or against his incapacity.</p> - -<p>Secondly, imitation must never become a perfect duplicate of the real -thing, to be mistaken for it. There must be no deception of him who -enjoys the work of art, for deception would result in unpleasant -feelings. Therefore we separate a picture from its surroundings by a -frame, place a statue on a pedestal, let a drama be played on a stage.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, devotion to imitation must not lead the artist to neglect the -other properties of the work which make it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span> significant for our life of -feeling. A work of art is always a compromise. Nature gives us not only -what is significant, but also what is insignificant or even disgusting. -The subject-matter must therefore be worked over; that which is of -positive value must be emphasized, even exaggerated. Nature usually -presents a confusing multitude of details. Mind, for its enjoyment, -needs a unitary structure made up of a multitude of details. The artist -therefore must, whenever this is necessary, reconstruct nature in order -to insure unity of perception. Imitation must often be adapted to -special circumstances. A lion among allegorical figures as a symbol of -might cannot be represented as an exact imitation of the lion of the -desert. The real lion is a dangerous beast, a big cat. The symbolical -lion must agree with a certain traditional style. Nature is replete with -the insignificant, the individual, the momentary; mind longs for the -significant, the general, the eternal. The highest art is found where -the artist has been able to reach a maximum of the total effect of all -the simultaneous factors.</p> - -<p>Religion would be more easily understood, were it not for the many forms -under which the single need is satisfied according to circumstances. -Art, too, would be more easily understood, if the factors contributing -toward the same end were less numerous. Each of them is regarded by some -as the essential or exclusive basis of art. It is not difficult to -explain this. The people at large naturally take most interest in the -subject-matter, perhaps also in the technical ability of the artist. The -musician, knowing that form is the main factor in his art, is apt to -generalize and to regard form everywhere as the essential element. The -painter or sculptor—observing how other artists give artistic values to -the most varied subjects, perhaps feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span> himself able to raise any -subject, however selected, into the realm of art—may be inclined to -think of art as an institution for the employment of the creative energy -of those whose talents tend in this direction. Each one gives attention -to that aspect of the whole problem which especially concerns him. He -overlooks its other aspects.</p> - -<p>Not every species of art permits an equal development of all the -different factors of art in general. For example, in handicraft and in -architecture the work as a material thing serves a practical purpose; as -a work of art it serves esthetic enjoyment. The form is here largely -determined by its practical applicability. Its purpose must not be -hidden, but appear as clearly as possible. Mind must here force itself -to disregard the purpose and to enjoy the work independent of its -practical interests.</p> - -<p>When mind has thus been trained to look for esthetic values, even where -the practical side of the thing is paramount, it becomes able to enjoy -esthetically even that which in no way directly suggests an esthetic -attitude of the spectator. Man learns to enjoy the beauty of nature as -something independent of his practical needs. This ability has grown -very slowly. As late as the end of the eighteenth century one reads in a -book on Switzerland in a description of the Engelberg valley the -following words: “What do you see? Nothing but horrid mountains; no -gardens, no orchards, no wheat fields pleasing to the eye.”</p> - -<p>One thing assisting in this esthetic liberation of the mind is the -many-sidedness of nature in comparison with the practical interests of -man. Every one can find in nature something remote enough from his -everyday interests to become an object of esthetic enjoyment. We enjoy -reading about a war in the far East, not only because we recall that we -have no money invested there and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span> nothing else to risk, but chiefly -because the feelings aroused by the reports from the theater of war can -develop without interference. They could not, if the battle took place -in a neighboring village. For the same reason we enjoy travel -esthetically, not when we are compelled to travel, but when we choose it -for our recreation. Standing in the market place of a foreign city, I -see the people talk, gesticulate, bargain, as they do in my own town. -And yet it is different. There are no relations to my own domestic -affairs. Their talking does not concern me. I do not even understand -their language. Thus I am able to enjoy the sight esthetically. It is -true that nature rarely fulfills all those conditions which the artist -fulfills in a work of art by his artistic reconstruction of the piece of -nature represented by him. But this loss of esthetic effectiveness is -compensated by the inexhaustible variety, the never ceasing movement, -the immense power and magnitude of nature.</p> - -<p>Thus mind turns against its own beginning. But not in order to make war -upon itself, but to overcome evils of former adaptations by a new and -higher kind of adaptation.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>223. What property is common to works of art of every kind?</p> - -<p>224. How does religion contribute to the growth of art?</p> - -<p>225. How is play related to art?</p> - -<p>226. What are the three factors in art on which our feelings -depend?</p> - -<p>227. Which of the three factors is predominant in music?</p> - -<p>228. What is the advantage of imitation over reality?</p> - -<p>229. What are the three aspects of the artistic problem of -imitation?</p> - -<p>230. What training does the mind receive from the enjoyment of -handicraft and architecture?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span></p> - -<p>231. What kind of esthetic enjoyment has developed most recently?</p> - -<p>232. How does nature assist man in the highest development of his -esthetic ability?</p></div> - -<h4>§ <a name="hed_26" id="hed_26">26</a>. <span class="smcap">Morality</span></h4> - -<p>What remedy does mind discover for the third class of evils, those -resulting from its own activity for other members of society, and those -resulting from the restlessness, the protestation of the latter? The -remedy is essentially a social phenomenon, and can be discussed here -only very briefly with respect to the individual mind.</p> - -<p>Mind learns to appreciate and to train itself for activities -contributing directly to the welfare of society as a whole by actually -working for the good of others rather than for its own good. When the -social group increases in size, the more experienced and provident -members recognize, not by logical reasoning but as the immediate result -of experience, that brutally egotistic acts give rise to quarrel and -distrust, weaken the ties which hold together the members, and make the -group the prey of its enemies. Altruistic acts, on the other hand, are -found to strengthen the group. These influential members then endeavor -to further the latter and to suppress the former kind of actions. There -are two possible ways of bringing this about.</p> - -<p>First, compulsion. Acts destructive to society are punished. He who -commits them thus suffers a disadvantage much greater than the immediate -advantage, and the consciousness of this probability of suffering -inhibits the act. The total concept of activities or inactivities -enforced by punishment is the law. But the law is not far-reaching -enough. A society of wholly wicked beings cannot be held together by -law. Faith and loyalty cannot be enforced.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span></p> - -<p>Willing may consist in a consciousness of the immediate act or in a -consciousness of the remotest purpose to the realization of which this -act contributes. If in consequence of threatened punishment I will the -required act, but not its ultimate purpose, I can frustrate the latter -in a hundred different ways. To punishment, therefore, must be added a -second means of furthering the welfare of society, through actions of -free will. The performance of acts of this kind is called morality.</p> - -<p>The special form of morality anywhere at any time depends obviously on -many circumstances. It is conceivable that in a tribe sparingly endowed -with natural resources and pressed by enemies, morality may demand the -killing of the aged and of female children. On a higher level of culture -such actions must be immoral, because they do not harmonize with other -moral commandments, or because, when food is plentiful, an increase in -numbers is highly desirable. The Catholic church regards divorce as -immoral, but in Japan public opinion regards the enforced continuation -of the matrimonial tie as immoral. It is obvious that morality is a -growth. But it grows very slowly, remaining nearly constant for long -stretches of time; and so we often meet moral commandments which no -longer fit the people upon whom they are imposed.</p> - -<p>Kant has more strongly than any one else taken the opposite view. -Morality, according to him, is something definite, eternal, absolute, -not dependent on circumstances—categorical, as he calls it, not -hypothetical. How can this doctrine be reconciled with what we have said -above?</p> - -<p>We mentioned that actions benefiting the total social group are not the -result of reflection, of reasoning, but the immediate result of -experience on the part of the most provident and most influential -members of the group.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span> Errors and superstitions naturally play their -part in the formation of the first moral rules. But subsequent -experience gradually improves them, so that they soon become of real -benefit to the whole society. How are these rules then transmitted to -following generations? By impressing them upon the child. Young children -can be given commandments; but explanations of their purpose would in -most cases be useless. They are therefore given categorically, as -imperatives supported by the authority of parents, elders, priests. -Under these circumstances, of course, it is not to be expected that the -children will later recall any purpose when they become conscious of -these rules. The rules appear in their consciousness as something -unconditional, absolute—in their totality as <i>conscience</i>.</p> - -<p>One may here raise this question: Why does not society, after its -children have grown into men and women, inform them of the purpose of -these rules? This information is not given partly because society as a -whole is not clearly conscious of the purpose, partly because it is -better to leave to these rules their absolute character. The commander -of an army does not explain the purpose of an order sent to an inferior -officer. This has its disadvantages in so far as the latter, knowing the -purpose, might improve details of the order which the commanding -officer, from his distant position, could not properly adjust to the -actual conditions. But on the whole it is preferable to require strict -adherence to the order and not to permit reflection before its -execution, for reflection might easily give room to thoughts of -self-preservation. Similarly, society demands absolute obedience because -thus, on the whole, the moral rules are more strictly carried out, with -greater benefit to society. Nevertheless, the rules have their -justification only in their purpose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span> the welfare of society. And -conflicts between the literal commandment and this purpose are by no -means rare. The white lie, for example, has given much trouble to moral -theorists. To the unbiased moral consciousness it is in innumerable -cases the proper act. What commander of an army could be tolerated who -would refuse to deceive the enemy? How could we meet children, the sick, -the insane, if we had made up our minds never to tell a lie?</p> - -<p>Understanding the value of the (apparent) absolutism of the moral rules, -we also understand why moral sentiment is so highly estimated as -compared with a mere number of correct acts. Moral sentiment is the only -reliable source of correct action. If we judge a person exclusively or -mainly by his success in correct activity, we are likely to discourage -his attempting a difficult task. In order to give the greatest possible -encouragement, we tell him that it is his free will to do good that -determines our estimation of his social value, no matter whether he -succeeds or not. However, the question whether a man’s will is to be -called good or bad, can be answered only by pointing out a social -purpose, the furtherance of the welfare of the whole. Without this the -will to do good, the feeling of duty, is like the rope by means of which -Münchhausen descended from the moon.</p> - -<p>The absolutism of morality explains the close relation of morality to -religion. Religion, morality, and sometimes political law, are under -God’s protection; the laws of reasoning and of artistic creation are -not. The latter are also gifts of God, but left unprotected. Error and -bad taste are no sins. Religion, if without direct protection by -threatened punishment, would be found by each individual; but each would -find a different one, and since only<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span> one religion is supposed to be the -true one, uniformity has to be enforced by threats. Morality still more -needs protection by threatened punishment coming from God, since -individual desires differ greatly, and would never give rise directly to -uniform moral rules. These rules are the product of the experience of -generations, and always meet with more or less resistance from the -individual. Human authority is frequently not strong enough to overcome -this resistance. So God’s protection is needed—and found very easily. -What can a father reply to his ever questioning child: Why must I give -away a part of what I like to keep myself, or tell what I shall be -punished for? He gives the same answer which he gives to the question -who made the horses and the whole world: “God made these rules.” Perhaps -it would be best if the child were always told that God did not impose -these rules upon man as something foreign to his nature, simply because -God capriciously chose to do so; but that he gave man these rules -because they are needed for the highest development of human life. Only -a will which acts morally because this significance of morality is -understood can be said to be truly free.</p> - -<p>We have frequently spoken of communities, of groups of human beings. -Now, man belongs to many communities at the same time: family, town, -state, nation, friends, the profession, the denomination, and so on, up -to mankind as a whole; which one is meant? They are all meant, but so -that in case one obligation excludes another, the one toward the -narrower circle of associates takes precedence. We do not approve of -women devoting to charity what they owe to their children. But where the -narrower circle leaves us free from obligation, the wider circle claims -us as its subjects. One of these circles, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span> widest of all, is -mankind; but morality did not begin with recognizing this. Only those -are permitted to enjoy the benefits of one’s morality who are clearly -felt to belong to the same community. The expansion of political, -linguistic, religious communities enormously increases the number of -individuals toward whom each one feels moral obligations.</p> - -<p>But this expansion alone would not have broken down the barrier between -one and all the rest of mankind. This barrier has been removed by the -acceptance of monotheism. Other factors may have contributed toward this -result. The categorical character of the moral rules, their independence -of conditions, must have favored their universal application to any -human being. The development of the idea that all human beings are -essentially alike, and of the idea of the unity of the world, must have -greatly strengthened the universality of the moral rules. The -development of the moral ideal, as we saw, tended to unify the -conception of God. But this conception of a single God, monotheism, then -gave a new impulse to the universal application of the moral rules. When -each people has its own god, his commandments are valid only to his own -people. But when it is recognized that only one God exists, his -commandments can hardly be confined to the territory of one people. -Plato and Zeno, accepting this consequence, teaching that human beings -are like the members of one flock, introduced a doctrine new to the -Greeks. Christ, reciting the Mosaic law, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor, -and hate thine enemy,” adds to it: “But I say unto you, love your -enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you,” and -thus takes the decisive step. But mankind is still far from having -accepted this doctrine completely. To plunder private property<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span> on the -high seas in time of war is no longer regarded as meritorious, but -scarcely begins to cast shame on him who makes himself guilty of it, as -plundering on land does.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c">QUESTIONS</p> - -<p>233. Why is acting by free will superior to willing under -compulsion?</p> - -<p>234. What philosopher is mentioned in the text as the chief -opponent to the doctrine that morality is a growth dependent on -circumstances?</p> - -<p>235. How and by whom were moral rules first discovered?</p> - -<p>236. How are moral rules propagated? What is the consequence of -this mode of propagation?</p> - -<p>237. What two reasons are stated for the fact that society does not -inform its members of the real purpose of the moral rules?</p> - -<p>238. Why is moral sentiment valued more highly than correct acts?</p> - -<p>239. How is the relation between morality and religion established?</p> - -<p>240. What is the influence of monotheism on the growth of morality?</p></div> - -<h2><a name="Conclusion" id="Conclusion"></a><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></h2> - -<p>What a strange being is man according to popular understanding! He -possesses senses intended to inform him of the world, but incapable of -doing this since they deceive him. In addition he has judgment and -reason which help him to discover the deceptions of his senses and to -gain a true knowledge of the world by the aid of principles whose origin -is foreign to this world. His thoughts consist of ideas which succeed -each other in accordance with definite laws. Nevertheless, he sits -within himself, the <i>homunculus</i> in the <i>homo</i>, and with perfect -contempt for those laws directs the ideas, weakens this, strengthens -that, keeps one and expels the other, unites<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span> them and separates them -with despotic arbitrariness. His chief desire is furtherance of his -well-being. Nevertheless, he strives to aid others, to be fair and just, -to mortify the flesh. He unceasingly strives to make himself the lord of -the world. Still he has a constant craving for being the subject of an -omnipotent power; and to satisfy this craving God has given him the -belief in Divinity. But God, from whom everything springs, has given him -also a punishable inclination toward heresies and confused him by the -contradictions of a hundred different revelations, each one claiming its -own genuineness. Man’s whole being appears mixed up. No second step is -possible without reversing the first. No definite purpose can be made -out in all this.</p> - -<p>Yet man becomes comprehensible as soon as we apply scientific methods to -the study of his nature. He has indeed numerous faculties, seeing and -hearing, imagination and feeling, reproduction and concentration. These, -however, do not oppose each other, but stand side by side, supplementing -each other, as everything on earth consists of parts which supplement -each other. The fundamental laws of human life are the same as those -which we find in the higher animals. But man’s ability to elaborate -momentary sense impressions is immensely increased: there is no limit to -the associative and selective combination of the elementary impressions. -Thus man establishes his power over all other animals and the inanimate -world, realizing the general purposes common to all organisms by -incomparably higher and richer constructions. But these, however we -esteem them, are derived from the same fundamental forces of nature, -only differing in measure and in their proportions. Mind is not like an -unclean pot in which noble seeds are planted, so that the plants -growing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span> from them do not fit the vessel containing them and unending -discord must result. Mind is a unitary organism which, unfolding its -capacities, adjusts itself more and more perfectly to the circumstances -of chance or of its own creation. As the same atmosphere brings forth -out of wind and water and warmth now fertile rains, now destructive hail -storms, beautiful clouds above, dangerous fog below, so the same mind by -the same natural laws brings forth error and truth, desireful pleasure -and desireless joy, selfishness and morality.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> - -<p class="c"><a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#Q">Q</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Z">Z</a></p> - -<p class="nind"> -<a name="A" id="A"></a>Abstraction, <a href="#page_126">126</a>, <a href="#page_133">133</a>, <a href="#page_140">140</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a>.<br /> - -Adaptation, <a href="#page_74">74</a>.<br /> - -Affection, <a href="#page_162">162</a>.<br /> - -Afferent, <a href="#page_35">35</a>, <a href="#page_38">38</a>.<br /> - -After-image, <a href="#page_74">74</a>.<br /> - -Anemia, <a href="#page_27">27</a>.<br /> - -Animals, <a href="#page_27">27</a>, <a href="#page_37">37</a>, <a href="#page_65">65</a>, <a href="#page_75">75</a>, <a href="#page_128">128</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a>, <a href="#page_197">197</a>.<br /> - -Apes, <a href="#page_27">27</a>.<br /> - -Apperception, <a href="#page_119">119</a>.<br /> - -Arborization, <a href="#page_33">33</a>.<br /> - -Architecture, <a href="#page_202">202</a>.<br /> - -Aristotle, <a href="#page_3">3</a>, <a href="#page_10">10</a>, <a href="#page_17">17</a>.<br /> - -Art, <a href="#page_14">14</a>, <a href="#page_24">24</a>, <a href="#page_196">196</a>.<br /> - -Association, <a href="#page_10">10</a>, <a href="#page_11">11</a>, <a href="#page_12">12</a>, <a href="#page_14">14</a>, <a href="#page_93">93</a>, <a href="#page_144">144</a>, <a href="#page_164">164</a>.<br /> - -Attention, <a href="#page_11">11</a>, <a href="#page_12">12</a>, <a href="#page_87">87</a>, <a href="#page_115">115</a>, <a href="#page_121">121</a>, <a href="#page_125">125</a>, <a href="#page_144">144</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a>.<br /> - -Audition, <a href="#page_74">74</a>, <a href="#page_76">76</a>.<br /> - -Auditory, <a href="#page_62">62</a>, <a href="#page_98">98</a>.<br /> - -Automatic, <a href="#page_101">101</a>.<br /> - -Axiom, <a href="#page_152">152</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="B" id="B"></a>Beats, <a href="#page_64">64</a>.<br /> - -Beethoven, <a href="#page_14">14</a>.<br /> - -Belief, <a href="#page_152">152</a>, <a href="#page_156">156</a>, <a href="#page_158">158</a>.<br /> - -Bessel, <a href="#page_20">20</a>.<br /> - -Biology, <a href="#page_16">16</a>.<br /> - -Bismarck, <a href="#page_180">180</a>.<br /> - -Blind born, <a href="#page_67">67</a>.<br /> - -Boycott, <a href="#page_136">136</a>.<br /> - -Brain, <a href="#page_21">21</a>, <a href="#page_22">22</a>, <a href="#page_23">23</a>, <a href="#page_27">27</a>, <a href="#page_28">28</a>.<br /> - -Brewster, <a href="#page_17">17</a>.<br /> - -Broca, <a href="#page_21">21</a>.<br /> - -Buffon, <a href="#page_11">11</a>.<br /> - -Bulb, <a href="#page_38">38</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="C" id="C"></a>Cæsar, <a href="#page_136">136</a>.<br /> - -Catholic church, <a href="#page_205">205</a>.<br /> - -Causality, <a href="#page_5">5</a>, <a href="#page_7">7</a>, <a href="#page_8">8</a>, <a href="#page_9">9</a>, <a href="#page_177">177</a>.<br /> - -Center, <a href="#page_35">35</a>, <a href="#page_36">36</a>, <a href="#page_37">37</a>, <a href="#page_107">107</a>, <a href="#page_111">111</a>.<br /> - -Cerebellum, <a href="#page_38">38</a>, <a href="#page_39">39</a>.<br /> - -Cerebrum, <a href="#page_38">38</a>, <a href="#page_41">41</a>.<br /> - -Christ, <a href="#page_209">209</a>.<br /> - -Cicero, <a href="#page_159">159</a>.<br /> - -Coherent thought, <a href="#page_142">142</a>.<br /> - -Collateral, <a href="#page_32">32</a>.<br /> - -Color, <a href="#page_58">58</a>.<br /> - -Color-blind, <a href="#page_60">60</a>, <a href="#page_76">76</a>.<br /> - -Color mixture, <a href="#page_61">61</a>.<br /> - -Conduct, <a href="#page_162">162</a>, <a href="#page_176">176</a>.<br /> - -Conscience, <a href="#page_206">206</a>.<br /> - -Consciousness, <a href="#page_41">41</a>.<br /> - -Conservation of energy, <a href="#page_45">45</a>.<br /> - -Copernican system, <a href="#page_161">161</a>.<br /> - -Cortex, <a href="#page_38">38</a>, <a href="#page_40">40</a>, <a href="#page_41">41</a>.<br /> - -Corti, <a href="#page_76">76</a>.<br /> - -Crime, <a href="#page_97">97</a>.<br /> - -Cutaneous, <a href="#page_52">52</a>, <a href="#page_73">73</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="D" id="D"></a>Davy, <a href="#page_121">121</a>.<br /> - -Definition, <a href="#page_141">141</a>.<br /> - -Dendrite, <a href="#page_31">31</a>.<br /> - -Desire, <a href="#page_109">109</a>.<br /> - -Determinism, <a href="#page_181">181</a>.<br /> - -Difference tone, <a href="#page_64">64</a>.<br /> - -Discrimination, <a href="#page_100">100</a>.<br /> - -Distance, <a href="#page_116">116</a>.<br /> - -Dream, <a href="#page_142">142</a>, <a href="#page_156">156</a>.<br /> - -Drugs, <a href="#page_27">27</a>.<br /> - -Duration, <a href="#page_68">68</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="E" id="E"></a>Education, <a href="#page_24">24</a>, <a href="#page_97">97</a>.<br /> - -Efferent, <a href="#page_35">35</a>, <a href="#page_38">38</a>.<br /> - -Emotion, <a href="#page_168">168</a>.<br /> - -Enlightenment, <a href="#page_11">11</a>.<br /> - -Esthetics, <a href="#page_14">14</a>, <a href="#page_185">185</a>, <a href="#page_197">197</a>, <a href="#page_202">202</a>.<br /> - -Evolution, <a href="#page_5">5</a>, <a href="#page_16">16</a>.<br /> - -Experiment, <a href="#page_17">17</a>.<br /> - -Expression,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span> <a href="#page_105">105</a>, <a href="#page_169">169</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="F" id="F"></a>Faculties, <a href="#page_10">10</a>, <a href="#page_11">11</a>, <a href="#page_13">13</a>, <a href="#page_22">22</a>, <a href="#page_124">124</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a>.<br /> - -Falstaff, <a href="#page_123">123</a>.<br /> - -Fatalism, <a href="#page_179">179</a>.<br /> - -Fatigue, <a href="#page_102">102</a>.<br /> - -Fechner, <a href="#page_18">18</a>, <a href="#page_19">19</a>.<br /> - -Feeling, <a href="#page_81">81</a>, <a href="#page_162">162</a>.<br /> - -Fibril, <a href="#page_32">32</a>.<br /> - -Fichte, <a href="#page_15">15</a>.<br /> - -France, <a href="#page_10">10</a>.<br /> - -Frederick William, <a href="#page_1">1</a>, <a href="#page_5">5</a>.<br /> - -Freedom, <a href="#page_7">7</a>, <a href="#page_8">8</a>, <a href="#page_9">9</a>, <a href="#page_176">176</a>, <a href="#page_208">208</a>.<br /> - -Fritsch, <a href="#page_21">21</a>.<br /> - -Future life, <a href="#page_192">192</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="G" id="G"></a>Galileo, <a href="#page_10">10</a>.<br /> - -Gall, <a href="#page_29">29</a>.<br /> - -Ganglion cell, <a href="#page_30">30</a>, <a href="#page_32">32</a>, <a href="#page_38">38</a>, <a href="#page_80">80</a>.<br /> - -Generalization, <a href="#page_126">126</a>, <a href="#page_128">128</a>, <a href="#page_134">134</a>.<br /> - -Goethe, <a href="#page_14">14</a>, <a href="#page_62">62</a>.<br /> - -Gray matter, <a href="#page_33">33</a>, <a href="#page_39">39</a>.<br /> - -Greece, <a href="#page_192">192</a>.<br /> - -Greenwich, <a href="#page_20">20</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="H" id="H"></a>Hallucination, <a href="#page_79">79</a>.<br /> - -Handicraft, <a href="#page_202">202</a>.<br /> - -Harmony, <a href="#page_68">68</a>.<br /> - -Helmholtz, <a href="#page_17">17</a>, <a href="#page_76">76</a>.<br /> - -Heraclitus, <a href="#page_3">3</a>.<br /> - -Herbart, <a href="#page_12">12</a>, <a href="#page_13">13</a>, <a href="#page_14">14</a>, <a href="#page_18">18</a>, <a href="#page_19">19</a>.<br /> - -Herod, <a href="#page_137">137</a>.<br /> - -Hitzig, <a href="#page_21">21</a>.<br /> - -Hobbes, <a href="#page_8">8</a>, <a href="#page_9">9</a>, <a href="#page_10">10</a>, <a href="#page_17">17</a>.<br /> - -Hume, <a href="#page_10">10</a>.<br /> - -Hypnosis, <a href="#page_179">179</a>.<br /> - -Hysteria, <a href="#page_29">29</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="I-i" id="I-i"></a>Ideation, <a href="#page_123">123</a>.<br /> - -Illusion, <a href="#page_120">120</a>.<br /> - -Imagery, <a href="#page_98">98</a>, <a href="#page_128">128</a>.<br /> - -Imagination, <a href="#page_78">78</a>, <a href="#page_115">115</a>, <a href="#page_124">124</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a>.<br /> - -Imitation, <a href="#page_130">130</a>, <a href="#page_132">132</a>, <a href="#page_199">199</a>.<br /> - -Indeterminism, <a href="#page_181">181</a>.<br /> - -Insane, <a href="#page_143">143</a>.<br /> - -Instinct, <a href="#page_85">85</a>, <a href="#page_91">91</a>, <a href="#page_101">101</a>, <a href="#page_107">107</a>, <a href="#page_109">109</a>, <a href="#page_110">110</a>, <a href="#page_130">130</a>, <a href="#page_171">171</a>, <a href="#page_173">173</a>, <a href="#page_180">180</a>, <a href="#page_197">197</a>.<br /> - -Intelligence, <a href="#page_27">27</a>, <a href="#page_148">148</a>.<br /> - -Interest, <a href="#page_89">89</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="J" id="J"></a>James, <a href="#page_170">170</a>.<br /> - -Japan, <a href="#page_205">205</a>.<br /> - -Jewish prophets, <a href="#page_193">193</a>.<br /> - -Judgment, <a href="#page_142">142</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="K" id="K"></a>Kant, <a href="#page_13">13</a>, <a href="#page_15">15</a>, <a href="#page_205">205</a>.<br /> - -Kinesthetic, <a href="#page_51">51</a>, <a href="#page_52">52</a>, <a href="#page_67">67</a>, <a href="#page_86">86</a>, <a href="#page_91">91</a>, <a href="#page_98">98</a>, <a href="#page_108">108</a>, <a href="#page_117">117</a>, <a href="#page_129">129</a>, <a href="#page_131">131</a>, <a href="#page_145">145</a>, <a href="#page_174">174</a>.<br /> - -Kinnebrook, <a href="#page_20">20</a>.<br /> - -Knowledge, <a href="#page_152">152</a>, <a href="#page_157">157</a>, <a href="#page_184">184</a>, <a href="#page_189">189</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="L" id="L"></a>Labyrinth, <a href="#page_54">54</a>.<br /> - -Lange, <a href="#page_170">170</a>.<br /> - -Language, <a href="#page_3">3</a>, <a href="#page_24">24</a>, <a href="#page_109">109</a>, <a href="#page_128">128</a>, <a href="#page_144">144</a>, <a href="#page_147">147</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a>, <a href="#page_155">155</a>.<br /> - -Latent idea, <a href="#page_81">81</a>.<br /> - -Laughing, <a href="#page_105">105</a>.<br /> - -Law, <a href="#page_24">24</a>.<br /> - -Leibniz, <a href="#page_8">8</a>.<br /> - -Linnæus, <a href="#page_11">11</a>.<br /> - -Literature, <a href="#page_139">139</a>.<br /> - -Localization of function, <a href="#page_41">41</a>, <a href="#page_42">42</a>, <a href="#page_44">44</a>.<br /> - -Lotze, <a href="#page_19">19</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="M" id="M"></a>Machine, <a href="#page_15">15</a>.<br /> - -Maskelyne, <a href="#page_20">20</a>.<br /> - -Mathematics, <a href="#page_13">13</a>.<br /> - -Medulla, <a href="#page_38">38</a>.<br /> - -Melody, <a href="#page_68">68</a>.<br /> - -Memory, <a href="#page_92">92</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a>, <a href="#page_144">144</a>, <a href="#page_149">149</a>, <a href="#page_150">150</a>.<br /> - -Metaphor, <a href="#page_137">137</a>.<br /> - -Metonymy, <a href="#page_137">137</a>.<br /> - -Middle Ages, <a href="#page_7">7</a>.<br /> - -Mind, <a href="#page_47">47</a>.<br /> - -Money, <a href="#page_165">165</a>.<br /> - -Monotheism, <a href="#page_193">193</a>, <a href="#page_209">209</a>.<br /> - -Mood, <a href="#page_169">169</a>.<br /> - -Morality, <a href="#page_193">193</a>, <a href="#page_204">204</a>.<br /> - -Mosaic law, <a href="#page_209">209</a>.<br /> - -Motor point, <a href="#page_34">34</a>.<br /> - -Movement, <a href="#page_105">105</a>, <a href="#page_108">108</a>.<br /> - -Müller, Johannes, <a href="#page_17">17</a>.<br /> - -Münchhausen, <a href="#page_207">207</a>.<br /> - -Music, <a href="#page_199">199</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="N" id="N"></a>Napoleon, <a href="#page_159">159</a>.<br /> - -Natural science, <a href="#page_6">6</a>, <a href="#page_8">8</a>, <a href="#page_9">9</a>, <a href="#page_16">16</a>.<br /> - -Neo-Platonic philosophy, <a href="#page_194">194</a>.<br /> - -Nerve anatomy, <a href="#page_38">38</a>.<br /> - -Nerve center, <a href="#page_35">35</a>, <a href="#page_36">36</a>, <a href="#page_37">37</a>, <a href="#page_107">107</a>, <a href="#page_111">111</a>.<br /> - -Nervous architecture, <a href="#page_34">34</a>.<br /> - -Nervous process,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span> <a href="#page_33">33</a>.<br /> - -Nervous system, <a href="#page_27">27</a>, <a href="#page_28">28</a>, <a href="#page_36">36</a>.<br /> - -Neuron, <a href="#page_30">30</a>, <a href="#page_81">81</a>.<br /> - -Newton, <a href="#page_10">10</a>.<br /> - -Noise, <a href="#page_62">62</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="O" id="O"></a>Odor, <a href="#page_57">57</a>.<br /> - -Organic sensation, <a href="#page_56">56</a>, <a href="#page_170">170</a>, <a href="#page_174">174</a>.<br /> - -Otolith, <a href="#page_54">54</a>, <a href="#page_55">55</a>, <a href="#page_65">65</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="P" id="P"></a>Pain, <a href="#page_53">53</a>.<br /> - -Painting, <a href="#page_200">200</a>.<br /> - -Passion, <a href="#page_172">172</a>.<br /> - -Pathology, <a href="#page_22">22</a>, <a href="#page_117">117</a>, <a href="#page_143">143</a>, <a href="#page_174">174</a>.<br /> - -Perception, <a href="#page_105">105</a>, <a href="#page_114">114</a>, <a href="#page_119">119</a>.<br /> - -Personal equation, <a href="#page_20">20</a>.<br /> - -Perspective, <a href="#page_116">116</a>.<br /> - -Philonic philosophy, <a href="#page_194">194</a>.<br /> - -Philosophy, <a href="#page_18">18</a>, <a href="#page_19">19</a>, <a href="#page_23">23</a>, <a href="#page_24">24</a>.<br /> - -Phrenology, <a href="#page_29">29</a>, <a href="#page_42">42</a>.<br /> - -Physiology, <a href="#page_16">16</a>, <a href="#page_17">17</a>, <a href="#page_19">19</a>, <a href="#page_21">21</a>, <a href="#page_22">22</a>.<br /> - -Plato, <a href="#page_10">10</a>, <a href="#page_193">193</a>, <a href="#page_209">209</a>.<br /> - -Play, <a href="#page_106">106</a>, <a href="#page_197">197</a>.<br /> - -Pleasantness, <a href="#page_82">82</a>, <a href="#page_106">106</a>.<br /> - -Poetry, <a href="#page_200">200</a>.<br /> - -Practice, <a href="#page_99">99</a>, <a href="#page_126">126</a>.<br /> - -Prayer, <a href="#page_191">191</a>, <a href="#page_192">192</a>, <a href="#page_193">193</a>.<br /> - -Predestination, <a href="#page_179">179</a>.<br /> - -Priesthood, <a href="#page_191">191</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a>.<br /> - -Priestley, <a href="#page_182">182</a>.<br /> - -Property, <a href="#page_186">186</a>.<br /> - -Psychiatry, <a href="#page_23">23</a>, <a href="#page_24">24</a>, <a href="#page_28">28</a>, <a href="#page_143">143</a>.<br /> - -Psychophysics, <a href="#page_19">19</a>, <a href="#page_23">23</a>, <a href="#page_24">24</a>, <a href="#page_28">28</a>, <a href="#page_143">143</a>.<br /> - -Ptolemaic system, <a href="#page_161">161</a>.<br /> - -Pythagoras, <a href="#page_158">158</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="Q" id="Q"></a>Quantitative, <a href="#page_13">13</a>, <a href="#page_17">17</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="R" id="R"></a>Range of perceptibility, <a href="#page_70">70</a>.<br /> - -Reality, <a href="#page_153">153</a>.<br /> - -Reason, <a href="#page_142">142</a>.<br /> - -Reflex, <a href="#page_86">86</a>, <a href="#page_107">107</a>, <a href="#page_110">110</a>, <a href="#page_170">170</a>.<br /> - -Reflex arch, <a href="#page_36">36</a>, <a href="#page_38">38</a>, <a href="#page_107">107</a>.<br /> - -Religion, <a href="#page_14">14</a>, <a href="#page_24">24</a>, <a href="#page_189">189</a>, <a href="#page_197">197</a>, <a href="#page_207">207</a>, <a href="#page_209">209</a>.<br /> - -Reproduction, <a href="#page_93">93</a>, <a href="#page_125">125</a>.<br /> - -Responsibility, <a href="#page_180">180</a>.<br /> - -Retina, <a href="#page_73">73</a>, <a href="#page_75">75</a>.<br /> - -Rousseau, <a href="#page_15">15</a>, <a href="#page_183">183</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="S" id="S"></a>St. Luke, <a href="#page_137">137</a>.<br /> - -Schelling, <a href="#page_18">18</a>.<br /> - -Schopenhauer, <a href="#page_15">15</a>.<br /> - -Science and religion, <a href="#page_194">194</a>.<br /> - -Sculpture, <a href="#page_200">200</a>.<br /> - -Seat of the soul, <a href="#page_29">29</a>, <a href="#page_41">41</a>.<br /> - -Self, <a href="#page_145">145</a>, <a href="#page_166">166</a>.<br /> - -Semicircular canals, <a href="#page_54">54</a>, <a href="#page_55">55</a>, <a href="#page_65">65</a>.<br /> - -Sensation, <a href="#page_50">50</a>, <a href="#page_65">65</a>.<br /> - -Sensationalism, <a href="#page_10">10</a>.<br /> - -Sensitiveness, <a href="#page_69">69</a>, <a href="#page_73">73</a>.<br /> - -Sensory point, <a href="#page_34">34</a>.<br /> - -Set of the mind, <a href="#page_94">94</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a>.<br /> - -Slang, <a href="#page_138">138</a>.<br /> - -Social classes, <a href="#page_186">186</a>.<br /> - -Space, <a href="#page_65">65</a>.<br /> - -Spatial, <a href="#page_67">67</a>.<br /> - -Speech, <a href="#page_109">109</a>, <a href="#page_130">130</a>, <a href="#page_139">139</a>.<br /> - -Spinal cord, <a href="#page_38">38</a>.<br /> - -Spinoza, <a href="#page_8">8</a>, <a href="#page_160">160</a>.<br /> - -Stimulus, <a href="#page_69">69</a>.<br /> - -Strümpell, <a href="#page_174">174</a>.<br /> - -Succession, <a href="#page_68">68</a>.<br /> - -Superstition, <a href="#page_161">161</a>.<br /> - -Switzerland, <a href="#page_202">202</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="T" id="T"></a>Taste, <a href="#page_57">57</a>.<br /> - -Temperament, <a href="#page_172">172</a>.<br /> - -Temporal, <a href="#page_68">68</a>.<br /> - -Tetens, <a href="#page_11">11</a>.<br /> - -Theology, <a href="#page_194">194</a>.<br /> - -Thought, <a href="#page_108">108</a>.<br /> - -Threshold, <a href="#page_100">100</a>.<br /> - -Time, <a href="#page_65">65</a>.<br /> - -Tone, <a href="#page_62">62</a>.<br /> - -Trinity, <a href="#page_194">194</a>.<br /> - -Truth, <a href="#page_152">152</a>.<br /> - -Types of imagery, <a href="#page_98">98</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="U" id="U"></a>Unity in variety, <a href="#page_68">68</a>, <a href="#page_164">164</a>.<br /> - -Unpleasantness, <a href="#page_53">53</a>, <a href="#page_82">82</a>, <a href="#page_106">106</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="V-i" id="V-i"></a>Vision, <a href="#page_74">74</a>, <a href="#page_75">75</a>.<br /> - -Visual, <a href="#page_58">58</a>, <a href="#page_73">73</a>, <a href="#page_98">98</a>.<br /> - -Voluntarism, <a href="#page_15">15</a>.<br /> - -Voluntary, <a href="#page_109">109</a>, <a href="#page_171">171</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="W" id="W"></a>Weber, E. H., <a href="#page_17">17</a>, <a href="#page_18">18</a>.<br /> - -Weber’s law, <a href="#page_18">18</a>, <a href="#page_71">71</a>.<br /> - -White matter, <a href="#page_33">33</a>.<br /> - -Will, <a href="#page_87">87</a>, <a href="#page_91">91</a>.<br /> - -Willing, <a href="#page_85">85</a>, <a href="#page_173">173</a>.<br /> - -World, <a href="#page_145">145</a>, <a href="#page_167">167</a>.<br /> - -Wundt, <a href="#page_23">23</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<a name="Z" id="Z"></a>Zeno, <a href="#page_209">209</a>.<br /> - -Zoroaster, <a href="#page_193">193</a>.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="transcrib" id="transcrib"></a></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="padding:2%;border:3px dotted gray;" class="c"> -<tr><th>Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:</th></tr> -<tr><td>first conciousness accompanies=> first consciousness accompanies {pg 86}</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Psychology, by Hermann Ebbinghaus - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHOLOGY *** - -***** This file should be named 52823-h.htm or 52823-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/8/2/52823/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS, Bryan Ness and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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