Lb 1135' r7 6> (larnell HtitcerHttg ffittirarg BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell Unlversltv Library LB1135 .T76 olin Handbooks of Moral and Religious Education EDITED BY = E. HERSHEY SNEATH, Ph.D., LL.D. Professor of the Philosophy of Religion and Religious Education, Yale University THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE •Tl ^^^(^ THE MACMILLAN COMPANY KEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS ATLANTA - SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Lto. TORONTO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE BY FREDERICK TRACY, Ph.D. Professor of Ethics in University College, University of Toronto Author of "The Psychology of Childhood," etc. j(3eto gotb THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1920 All rights reserved p^^4A-o^ COPTBIGHT, 1920, Bt the MACMILLAN COMPAITT Set up and electrotyped. Published, November, 1920 t>3 Heaven lies about us in our infancy; Shades of the prison house begin to close Upon the growing boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy ; The youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is nature's priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day. — Wordsworth. Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924032706941 EDITOR'S PREFACE The books of this Series are designed to serve as manuals for teachers in the field of moral and religious education. The Series will comprise volumes on the Psychology of Child- hood, the Psychology of Adolescence, the Psychology of Education, the Psychology of Religion, the Principles and Methods of Moral and Religious Education, Elementary and Secondary Moral and Religious Instruction, Religious School Organization and Equipment, etc. The books will be prepared by well known specialists. The following vol- umes will be included in the series : — 1. Child Psychology {^To be arranged.) 2. Psychology of Adolescence {Ready.) Frederick Traqr, Ph.D., Professor of Philosophy, University of Toronto. 3. The Psychological Basis of Education {In preparation.) Stephen Sheldon Colvin, Ph.D., Professor of the Psychology of Education, Brown University. 4. The Psychology of Religion {In preparation.) Luther A. Weigle, Ph.D., Professor of Christian Nurture, Yale University. 5. Character Building {In preparation.) Edwin A. Kirkpatrick, M.Ph., Director of Child Study, Fitchburg State Normal School. 6. Principles and METHoijs of Religious Education {In preparation.) Luther A. Weigle, Ph.D., Professor of Christian Nurture, Yale University. 7. Moral Training in the School and Home {Ready.) E. Hershey Sneath, Ph.D., LL.D., Professor of the Philosophy of Religion and Religious Education, Yale University. viii EDITOR'S PREFACE George Hodges, D.D., LL.D., Dean of the Episcopal Theo- logical School, Cambridge. 8. Moral Education in the High School {In preparation.) Frank Chapman Sharp, Ph.D., Professor of Philosophy, Uni- versity of Wisconsin. 9. Religious Training in Home and School (Ready.) E. Hershey Sneath, Ph.D., LL.D., Professor of the Philosophy of Religion and Religious Education, Yale University. George Hodges, D.D., LL.D., Dean of the Episcopal Theo- logical School, Cambridge. Henry Hallam Tweedy, M.A., Professor of Practical The- ology, Yale University. 10. Material and Equipment for Moral and Religious Edu- cation (To be arranged.) PREFACE That period of life technically known as Adolescence, untechnically as the time of Youth, and colloquially as the Teen Age, covering the years from the advent of puberty to the attainment of maturity, and roughly identical with the days of high school and college education, has been widely and carefully studied, from every point of view, dur- ing recent years, and our knowledge of it has been corre- spondingly enriched. The purpose of the present work is not primarily to add to the number of those valuable records which embody the results of investigations into the ado- lescent mind from this or that point of view; but rather to survey the whole field, having in mind the leading facts, as presented in these psychological and biological researches, as well as the fundamental categories of valuation, as set forth in the philosophy of morals, of religion, and of educa- tion; and to place the results of this survey in the hands of the teacher, within the modest compass of a " handbook." This being the end in view, it appeared neither feasible nor desirable to burden the pages of the book with elab- orate details, or to occupy much space with the minutiae of individual cases ; but rather to undertake the much more difficult task of obtaining, through a careful study of these individual cases, as intimate an acquaintance as possible with the average youth and maiden, and of passing on to the busy teacher the knowledge so gained. Such observations as the author has made on his own account, though playing the chief part in determining his conclusions, have not for the most part been reduced to the statistical form, and do not appear In tables in the follow- ing chapters. They have been made in the course of many years spent in the teaching profession, during which he has had the privilege of intimate association with some thou- X PREFACE sands of adolescents, of both sexes, chiefly in school and college life. If a lifetime spent in teaching has brought any insight into the nature of youth, and with it any vision of the supreme educational end, and if these have found clear expression in the pages that follow, then the publica- tion of the book may be regarded as justified. At the same time the author's indebtedness to other workers in the same field is greater than can be easily ex- pressed. The appended bibliography, while by no means complete, will convey some idea of that indebtedness. It goes without saying that the books and articles mentioned there are not all of equal value; and it is in no invidious spirit, but as a matter of simple justice, that I make special mention here of the work of Lancaster, Hall, Starbuck, James and Coe, as pre-eminently helpful. I am indebted to my friend Dr. Oswald C. J. Withrow, who kindly read the manuscript of Chapter III, and gave me some valuable suggestions, which I was able to adopt, with advantage to the book. Frederick Tracy. University of Toronto, Jan. 24th, 1920. TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE Preface vii CHAPTER - I A Preliminary Survey i II General Characteristics of the Various Life- Stages lO III The Body 24 • IV The Mind: General Treatment 37 • V Instinct and Habit 47 • VI Emotion, or the Capacity to Feel 70 • VII Intellect, or the Capacity to Think .... 83 VIII WiLL^ or the Capacity to Act loi • IX Self-Consciousness and the Social Order . . .119 X Sex 132 • XI The Appreciation of Beauty in Nature and Art 148 ' XII The Moral Life 160 XIII The Religious Life 182 XIV The Pedagogy of Adolescence 206 Bibliography 236 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE CHAPTER I A PRELIMINARY SURVEY The author of this book is convinced of the necessity of combining analysis and synthesis, induction and deduction, observation and interpretation, facts and theories, in any study of the kind here undertaken, if that study is to yield satisfactory results. The analysis of concrete totals into their constituent factors must go hand in hand with the con- structive synthesis of those factors in the total. A whole can be rightly understood only in relation to its parts, and the parts only in relation to one another and to the whole. A fact is of little value except as apprehended in its setting; and this is interpretation which involves theory; while con- versely, all interpretation must proceed on the basis of facts, and find its incentive and its justification in the purpose to know those facts more thoroughly; that is, to know them in their wider and deeper significance. Since observation is directed towards the particular, and interpretation towards the universal, the former of these without the latter (to speak in Kantian phraseology) is blind, the latter without the former is void. He is further persuaded that the concrete total which is before him in the present undertaking is the individual hu- man life, occupying its place in the world, played upon by multifarious forces from without, profoundly influenced by other forces that are within, moulded and shaped at every moment through those dispositions and native tendencies that are its inheritance from the past, and by those influ- 2 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE ences, material and social, that are all about it in the present; reacting incessantly to those influences; and developing, from the cradle to the grave, as an enduring identity, though these actions and reactions, both external and internal, are exceedingly diversified in their nature and complicated in their mode of operation. Applying to the subject before us the principles here laid down, it becomes clear that no single period or stage in the life of the individual can be adequately dealt with except in relation to the whole life; that no single phase or capacity of the individual mind can be properly understood except in relation to its other capacities and phases; that no single reaction is intelligible except in relation to the total setting, of circumstance and stimulus, m which it occurred ; and that no single personality can be fully accounted for except in its reciprocal relations with the other members of the social order. The division of the span of life into periods is a con- venient device, justified by the facts of growth, and highly useful for purposes of study; yet these periods do not stand apart from one another, separated by rigid lines of demarca- tion. Carried away by the relatively abrupt and pro- nounced changes that occur, for example, about the begin- ning of the teens, some writers have permitted themselves to speak of the years that follow as though they had little or nothing in common with the years that precede. The or- ganic connection of the different stages or periods with one another is much obscured and minimized. Differences are emphasized at the expense of similarities. I recall one work in which the author says in substance : Nature has been busy, up to the age of ten or twelve, in building a body for the child; she then proceeds, during the next three or four years, to install his emotional nature; and after that to give him an intellect. There is of course a glimmer of truth here, but the statement is almost grotesquely false in that it ignores the continuity of individual development, and the identity of individual being throughout all the stages of that development. A PRELIMINARY SURVEY 3 It is extremely misleading to speak of the growth of a human being in terms that only befit the construction of a factory. Personality is not an artifact, that it should be de- scribed after this manner. The child is born, not made. And his development proceeds, not by additions from with- out, but by unfoldings from within; not by mechanical ac- cretion, but by vital and dynamical self-realization. It seems to me quite possible, moreover, to lay an exag- gerated emphasis upon the differences between children and adults. It is quite true, of course, that these differences are great and striking, but they are differences of degree rather than of kind, and they are underlaid by far more funda- mental identities. It is quite true that the babe and the man differ widely in respect of the relative size and weight of the various parts and organs of the body. It is quite true that the food takeninto the system serves, in the one case, for the repair of waste, while in the other it goes also to the formation of new tissue and the augmentation of energy. It is also quite true that the mental attitude of a child seems in some cases to be such that adults have difficulty in under- standing him; but this is because of the imperfection of the child's means of communication, and not at all because his attitude is really foreign to, or unthinkable by, the adult mind. The processes of association, of psycho-physical cor- relation, of sensori-motor reaction, of instinct, of attention, of apperception, and of habit, are identical in principle, dif- fering only as the immature differs from the mature, that is, in the firmness and breadth of the associative connexions, in the volume and range of ideas, and in the degree of power and precision in volitional action. If the child and the man were different sorts of beings, then our psychology of the adult mind would throw no light on the nature of the child mind, and our child study would help us not a whit in the understanding of the adult con- sciousness ; but I hardly think that any competent psycholo- gist would subscribe to propositions of that kind. Every- where, not only between the child and the adult, but between one child and another, between one adult and another, be- 4 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE tween men and women, between men of one race and men of another race, we find the most striking differences ; differ- ences so striking, indeed, that often one individual is forced to say of another, — " His mental attitude is so foreign that I cannot comprehend it." This, however, does not make them beings of different kinds essentially. For great and important as the differences are, the likenesses are greater and more important still; for they are fundamental and essential, while the differences are incidental and accessory. In sharp contrast, then, to the view sometimes expressed, that the various periods of life are so strikingly different from one another that there must be virtually a separate psychology for each, the position taken here is that there is only one psychology, because mind in its essential features is everywhere the same; that this one psychology has many chapters ; and that it must be essentially developmental and dynamic in its spirit and method, never losing sight of the fact that it has to deal, not with things that can be described and inventoried once for all, but with living processes and forces that reveal new and striking features even while under the observer's attention. The difference between this point of view and the other may be largely a difference of relative emphasis, or even of terminology, but the important thing is that in the study of a given child we have to do, not with several different things, one after the other, but with one individual, whose single nature is unfolding itself throughout the course of its his- tory, whether in childhood, boyhood, youth, or manhood; that these are phases or stages of that single development; and that the division into periods is instrumental and me- thodological rather than fundamental and essential. The primal fact is that an individual life is running its course; the secondary fact is that this course falls conveniently into sev- eral stages, rather clearly marked by certain distinctive char- acteristics. The justification of our divisions lies in the fact that, at certain stages there is an acceleration of development along A PRELIMINARY SURVEY 5^ certain lines ; powers and capacities that heretofore had re- mained in abeyance now move forward swiftly towards full- blown effectiveness, and whole areas of feeling and ideation come for the first time into clear consciousness. Yet these powers and capacities were there all the while, slowly gath- ering momentum beneath the surface, as the bud gathers momentum unnoticed, ready for the day when it shall burst open and reveal itself as the flower. Childhood, boyhood, youth and maturity are one continuum. The transition from any one of these to the next is not made by all persons at the same time of Hfe, nor with the same suddenness. In all cases it is a genuine evolution, though in some cases it bears a close superficial resemblance to revolution. Adolescence, then, is not a life by itself, but a stage in the total life. The attempt to study it by itself alone would inevitably end in misunderstanding. Striking and charac- teristic as its peculiar features are, they have their prepara- tory conditions in the preceding periods, and many of their effects persist unto the end of life. There is no character- istic of adolescence whose germ may not be found in child- hood, and whose consequences may not be traced in ma- turity and old age. No adequate understanding of this period is possible unless one looks also beyond the period in both directions. They little know of adolescence who only adolescence know. Back of adolescence are boyhood and childhood, and back of childhood are the forces of heredity, and all about the individual are the diverse oper- ations of the environment; while on the other hand youth develops into maturity and maturity is succeeded by se- nescence, decay and death. Nay, further, according to the prevailing view of our race, the individual was made to continue into a life beyond that which now is; and in the consideration of what he is, as well as of that which he should become through education, all these things should be taken into account. A parallel remark is called for in reference to the so- called faculties or powers of the mind. These are not sepa- 6 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE rate from one another, but are bound together in the unity of the mental life. The time-honored division of the psychic powers into feeling, thought, and will, with the va- rious sub-divisions falling under these, is of great impor- tance and value, and cannot profitably be discarded; but these are distinguishable features, not separate things. The unity of the mental life is the one inescapable fact, the di- versity of its operations is the other. Neither of these must be lost sight of. The individual is not to be thought of as now thinking, now feeling, now acting; but in any and every concrete expression of himself there are cognitive, affective, and conative factors, varying in all conceivable degrees of relative prominence or intensity. And none of these is what it is without the others. Perhaps at no other time in the entire life is this intimate connexion among the various mental processes more evi- dent than during the period of youth ; though on the other hand, it must also be pointed out that this interconnexion is less steady and uniform than in the later, or even in the next earlier period. The relation between thoughts and feelings, and between each of these and conduct, though less mechanical than in boyhood, and less settled and defined than In maturity, is nevertheless exceedingly close and vital. And the aim of education, at all ages, but especially now, should be to bring about a healthy and vigorous correlation among all these powers, under the control of a cultivated intelligence. The dominant convictions under which the following pages are written, may then be stated somewhat as follows: The point of view throughout is teleological. The edu- cational end, I trust, is never lost sight of, and ethical values are always in the forefront. Facts are prized chiefly be- cause they help to clarify our vision of that educational end and of those ethical values, or throw light upon the means by which they may be realized. In the early days of the Child Study movement, one of its wisest exponents remarked that child study existed " primarily for the sake of the child, A PRELIMINARY SURVEY 7 secondarily for the sake of the teacher, and incidentally for the sake of science." This is the point of view adopted here. We study the nature of youth in order that we may be of some service to youth in its efforts to find itself and come into the full possession of its own moral and spiritual heritage. We may hope, through this larger understand- ing, to be helpful to youth in a positive and direct way, but certainly at least in a negative and indirect way. We may hope at least to understand when to stand aside, refrain from meddling, and let nature have her perfect work. The study of youth, like the study of childhood, should teach us to respect individuality and the sacred rights of personality, and to put no occasion of stumbling in the way of one of these little ones. No apology should be necessary for laying emphasis on the vision of the ideal of human life, and of all ultimate values, such as comes through reflection on the problems of philosophy, and through study of the questions raised for us by ethics and religion. It is but natural, therefore, that the longest chapters in the book should be devoted to the consideration of the moral and religious life, and to the meaning and method of education. To these great topics all else may be regarded as tributary and contributory. Our supreme interest is in personal character and the means by which it may be most fully realized. What that realiza- tion would involve, could it be made complete, we do not of course pretend to know, but among the criteria by which we may get the measure of its attainment at any given point, there are two that seem worthy of being placed in the fore- front in this preliminary survey, and kept continually before us throughout. And this, not because they are new, but because of their profound significance in educational theory, and their rich fruitfulness in educational practice. The first of these might be expressed by some such term as " wholeness," " symmetry," or " balance." It was a favorite thought with the Greeks. A man's character could be judged by its symmetry. The highest type of 8 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE man was one In whose character there were no ugly ex- crescences and no glaring defects. Physically, the ideal was not a professional specialist, but an all-round athlete, in whose make-up no muscle was atrophied and none hyper- trophied. Intellectually, the ideal was a man who could see truth in all its bearings and from every point of view; a type of mind which, in its highest form, became the " spec- tator of all time and all existence." Morally, it was a man whose desires and appetites were well co-ordinated and perfectly adjusted to one another and to the total require- ments of his life. Of such a one the word " integrity " might be used, in its etymological sense of " wholeness." As the ideal state was the embodiment of justice, in the sense that all the social groups that made up the state were perfectly adjusted to one another, so that there was no friction in the operation of the political machinery; so the ideal individual was the incarnation of justice, in the sense that all his powers were in perfect and frictionless harmony with one another in the totality of his being. It seems to me difficult to improve upon this conception of the human ideal. It is deep enough to cover all that is connoted by the profoundest terms in our Christian the- ology, and comprehensive enough to make room for the most ambitious program in religious education. Whatever might be said in the interests of that specialization which becomes a practical necessity in most adult lives, the true educational ideal for childhood and youth, as well as the best preparation for that specialization itself, is that which Is expressed in such terms as we have used above, or in that fine old academic phrase, " a liberal education." The second of the two criteria of personal development I would like to express by such terms as " control," " mastery," and the like. The idea of control and the idea of wholeness are closely connected. Neither can be fully attained without the other. The element of control belongs to the education of the will; but will itself Is noth- ing other than the power of intelligent self-direction. And A PRELIMINARY SURVEY 9 so by control is meant that condition of the inner life in which all the psychic forces are in harmony, because they are all conformed to a dominant idea and purpose. As- suming, of course, that this dominant purpose is a whole- some one, then the real meaning of education, from this point of view, is the regulation and direction of every im- pulse and instinct, every desire and prompting, by this dominant purpose. It will readily be seen that this means harmony as well as control; harmony, indeed, through con- trol. And that this is at least one way of stating the su- preme purpose and meaning of education, will hardly be disputed. CHAPTER II GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE VARIOUS LIFE-STAGES In the course of the average human life, that runs its normal course, there are three divisional points of more than ordinary importance. The first of these is marked by the birth of the procreative powers; the second by the attainment of full maturity in regard to all the powers of mind and body; and the third by the beginning of their de- terioration. In the life of every organism there is a con- stant struggle between the forces that make for its up- building and those that make for its destruction. Up to the point which we call maturity the forces of construction prevail over the forces of destruction ; during the period of mature life the battle may be said to be drawn; while the third point is marked by the beginning of the ascendancy of the forces of destruction. This gives us, then, to begin with, four main divisions of life. The first extends from the birth of the body to the birth of the procreative functions. This period may be called the period of childhood, and it embraces, roughly speaking, about the first dozen years of life. The second extends from the birth of the procreative functions to the full maturing of all the powers. This is the period of youth, or adolescence, and it embraces, roughly speaking, about the second dozen years of life. The third extends over the whole time during which the individual continues to enjoy the unimpaired use of his powers. It is the period of man- hood, and its extent may be indicated, very roughly indeed, as the third and fourth dozens of the years of life. The fourth period extends from the beginning of the decay of the powers to the consummation of that decay in the 10 CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE-STAGES ii fact of death. It is the period of senescence; and if we wish to assist our memories by continuing to reckon in dozens, its extent may be put down, still more roughly, as the fifth and sixth dozens of the years of life. Thus if an ordinary life lasts 72 years, we may divide that life into six equal parts, calling the first childhood, the second adoles- cence, the third and fourth maturity, and the fifth and sixth senescence. Or, putting childhood and youth together, we see that such a life falls into three equal parts, and that the first of these parts is consumed in the attainment of ma- turity. The period of childhood is usually subdivided, for pur- poses of minuter study, into two or more parts. If the di- vision is two-fold, the dividing line is drawn about the eighth year; and in that case the first eight years are known as childhood, and the next four as boyhood (or girlhood) . The period of youth may also be subdivided, and usually is, into two, or, by some writers, into three parts. In the latter case the divisions are known as early, middle, and later adolescence. I am not convinced of the value of a three-fold division; but it does seem clear that the first four or five years of the teens show characteristics suffi- ciently well marked to distinguish these years somewhat from those that follow, and so to justify a two-fold divi- sion. On that basis we shall speak of early and later adolescence, with the dividing line somewhere about the sixteenth or seventeenth year. We may now try to indicate, somewhat more carefully, why these divisions are made, and what are the leading characteristics of each period. Early childhod, then, or childhood proper, extends from birth to the time when the representative powers, memory and imagination, attain to effective control of the material provided by the senses. It is not, of course, denied that these powers are operative in the earliest child- hood. No doubt the very first sensation experienced by an infant leaves behind it some faint traces of 12 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE itself, and is to some slight extent susceptible of reten- tion and recall. But it is not for some years that the power to re-present these sense experiences in memory and imagination begins to be exercised with any large measure of definiteness and volitional control. Sensations are abun- dant, but they receive a minimum of interpretation. Asso- ciative connexions are beginning to form among the mental contents, but the associations are weak, evanescent, and non-causal. Judgment, and rational discrimination, involv- ing concepts and categories, are operative, as yet, rather potentially than effectively. As the young child is incapable of penetrating far be- neath the surface of things, of understanding necessary connexions, of looking far afield, either Into the future or into the past, of comprehending the causes from which a given effect has arisen or the effects to which a given cause may lead. It follows that his feelings are direct, sensuous, superficially excited, and evanescent. They arise and sub- side with the sense experiences on which they depend. Of emotion, in the deeper and more abiding sense, he is not yet capable. The behavior of the child is determined chiefly by na- tive instincts, unconscious or subconscious response to sug- gestion, imitation, and organic needs. His movements are principally of the instinctive and reflex t)^e. He is ex- ceedingly open to the suggestions that come from his en- vironment. His outgoing processes are of the direct and simple sensori-motor character. Self-control, inhibition, and the determination of action by ideas, are only in their nascent stages. As the ideas lack co-ordination, so the actions lack control by ideas. And back of both, the nerve processes of the body lack systematic connexion with one another. Co-ordination of the active powers, and their concentration upon an end that is Ideal, or in any degree re- mote from the field of immediate presentation, must not be looked for at this age. With the transition to boyhood and girlhood there are CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE-STAGES 13 some rather pronounced developments, notably in the field of volition. Children now become more disposed to undertake things for themselves, and without assistance from others. They like to be trusted. Their pride is flattered and their self-respect enhanced by little respon- sibilities. Physically, the process of growth has proceeded rapidly up to this age, and with a fair degree of steadiness; from this point on, for three or four years, growth in the sense of increase of bulk is not so rapid. Consolidation of the physical forces and powers now partly takes the place of quantitative increase. The brain of an eight-year-old child is nearly as large as it will ever be, but in the matter of development of the inner structure, building up of the grey matter, and the establishment of the inter-cerebral associa- tional tracts, much yet remains to be done. The child at this age is usually stronger, tougher, and capable of greater endurance, than at any earlier time in his life, and perhaps than at any later time previous to maturity. The muscles become firmer, the joints more closely set, the nerve con- nexions better established, the bones harder and less pliable, the skin more capable of resisting abrasion, the organs of digestion, circulation and respiration more completely ad- justed to their work and better fitted to handle the materials committed to them. The general health is never better than now. The eyes are bright and clear, and all the senses wide open and alert for the apprehension of nature. The sense qualities of all objects in the material environment are of absorbing interest. Not only is this a period of great sense activity, but also of great muscular activity. The boy and girl of this age are continually on the move. Their restless activity, their ceaseless investigation of their environment, makes them per- haps a little more difficult to manage in school than at any other age, while their comparative deficiency in the more romantic and sentimental phases of experience, and their carelessness about personal appearance, tends to make them, 14 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE in the eyes of many teachers, somewhat less attractive than children of an earlier or a later age. On the intellectual side, we may speak of this as the age of the representative faculties. The senses have been in full play for eight or nine years, and are well along in their development. The material presented to them has become to some extent organized, and concepts are in pro- cess of formation, as the things perceived by the senses have become associated, grouped and arranged in apperception masses. This of course has involved the retention and the recall of sense experiences. Hence the functions of memory and imagination come into more active operation. The memory attains to a much wider capacity, and the develop- ment of the mind seems to have reached just that stage in which memory drill is easier, less irksome, and more pro- fitable, than at any other time, though there is no time in the history of a well-disciplined mind when memory work is necessarily either irksome or profitless. The imagination is at this age moving towards the con- structive form. The trains of imagery are now more varied and comprehensive in their scope, as well as more systematic and purposive in their character. But on the other hand, the imagination of the boy, as compared with that of the youth, is lacking in depth, richness, and emotional color. In boyhood the process of fixing the associational fiber connexions goes forward apace, as well as that of harden- ing and toughening the muscles. It is, therefore, a highly favorable period for the formation of habits, and for all manner of useful routine discipline leading to that end, both in the intellectual sense, and in the volitional. From the standpoint of morals and religion, as well as from other standpoints, boyhood may seem to present a less attractive field than either childhood on the one hand or adolescence on the other. The naive simplicity and re- ceptiveness of childhood is passing away, and the wistful, emotional, aspirational attitude of adolescence has not yet CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE-STAGES 15 come. Hence the parent and the teacher are very likely to find, on the one hand, an independence and a wilfulness in regard to the content of instruction, which may appear much less attractive than the unquestioning credulity of childhood, and on the other a relative lack of feeling, as compared with adolescence, which may be disappointing to those who do not understand exactly what they have a right to expect. It is not in boyhood that we expect to find the deepest and tenderest feelings, the greatest reverence, the most demonstrative worship of the sublime and the beauti- ful, the highest conscientiousness, the greatest sensitiveness to the claims of the moral law, or the most poignant senti- ments of remorse over personal misdoings. Indeed, the impression in most minds is that the child from eight or nine to twelve betrays more of the qualities of that savagery from which our race is slowly emerging, than are to be found elsewhere. Consequently there are many who regard this as the least attractive period, and the least promising from the teacher's point of view. Nothing is easier however, than to draw erroneous con- clusions at this point. The child at this age is neither de- void of feeling, incapable of appreciation, irresponsive to sympathy, nor impervious to moral and religious instruction. He is capable of reverence, aesthetic taste, and moral sensi- tiveness. It is a matter of degree. He is stronger than he was in childhood, and loves to assert his strength and show his independence; and so, on the surface, he appears less reverential towards authority. Sometimes, in the exercise of this strength and energy of his, smaller children or pet animals may be hurt; and so we think him callous and un- feeling. Again, there are certain strata of emotional experi- ence which are not yet possible for him, and we hastily con- clude that the soil of his boyish character is scarcely worth the trouble of cultivation. But in so doing we make a great mistake. Every period of life has its own value, not only in relation to the whole life, but in and for itself as well. The essential traits of boyhood and girlhood de- 1 6 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE serve the most careful study, and are worthy of the highest appreciation. The mind is now splendidly adapted to re- spond to the demand for work that is calculated to fortify and furnish it for the whole task and problem of efficient living. The seeds of true moral appreciation, and of re- ligious devotion, may not only be sown now, but may make a gratifying degree of growth. The ideas gained in child- hood may be made a permanent possession of the mind; and the unreasoned responses of childhood to the suggestions and requirements of the teacher may be developed into the settled, habitual forms of conduct that shall give its domi- nant tone to the entire life. Puberty means the dawning of the sex life, and the be- ginning of the unfolding of the procreative capacities; and adolescence means that period of life which extends from puberty to full physical maturity. This period does not begin at the same age precisely in all individuals. Its ad- vent varies according to many circumstances. It varies ac- cording to race and ethnic stock, coming somewhat earlier among peoples of the Semitic than among those of the Indo- European races. Again, among the latter, it is earlier with the Latin than with the Teutonic peoples. It varies accord- ing to climate, being earlier In tropical countries than in the temperate and frigid zones. It varies according to in- herited disposition, being a little earlier in persons of warm and sanguine temperament, and more tardy with the phleg- matic. It varies according to habits of life, being somewhat earlier among those whose lives are pampered by luxury and who are prematurely familiarized with adult modes of thought and feeling, while it is more tardy among those who from childhood are accustomed to plain living and ardent toil. Many diseases have a retarding effect upon it, as well as hardships, privation, mental anxiety, care and responsibility. It varies according to sex, making its ap- pearance a little earlier in the female than in the male. In rare cases it has been known to occur several years earlier than the average, or several years later. But its occurrence CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE-STAGES 17 before the eleventh year, or later than the fifteenth, may be regarded as quite exceptional. On the North American Continent it occurs apparently in the vast majority of cases between twelve and fourteen in girls, and between thirteen and fifteen in boys. The importance of this change called puberty, which ushers in the period of adolescence, has been recognized in all ages and among all peoples, and many are the strange and curious customs by which it has been celebrated, es- pecially among savage and semi-civilized races.^ A study of these customs will show how solemn a transition it was held to be. Among civilized peoples it is marked as a rule by some alterations in the style of clothing and in the manner of wearing the hair (though probably not with any thought of making public announcement of the facts) and frequently by some new emphasis on the social and religious obligations of the individual, evidently with a half-conscious recognition of the close association between the racial and the religious life. In many Christian communions there seems to be a tacit expectation that young people shall take some new and distinct forward step in the religious life, assume some addi- tional religious responsibility, or enter into a more intimate and avowed connexion with the church, somewhere about the early or middle teens. And even among those churches which do not regard this as a matter of course, there is nevertheless a growing recognition of the fact that a deeper and more vital interest in matters religious may normally be looked for about this time. Physically, the advent of puberty is announced in various ways. Immediately preceding it there is a marked accelera- tion in the rate of growth in general, and in the development of the sexual system in particular. Functions and processes essential to procreation begin to show themselves in their initial stages, while other changes take place, whose connex- 1 It is significant that the majority of these customs, as applied to boys, are of such a kind as to test their powers of endurance, courage, and, in general, their fitness for life as efficient members of the tribe or social order. 1 8 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE ion with the procreative powers is only indirect. There are changes in the voice, and the beginning of a general de- velopment of the whole body towards shapeliness and poise and power. In the sphere of thought and feeling, if any single word could express all that is characteristic of this period, it would be some such word as " deepening." The mind, in adoles- cence, begins to go further below the surface of things. Childhood is kept busy with the operations of the senses. In boyhood the powers of representation develop rapidly, but chiefly in connexion with the handling of sense material. But now, in adolescence, the mind grasps deeper meanings, sees more in the things that are presented to its view, begins to make profounder interpretations of its experience, and to harness the products of sense-perception to the categories of the higher thinking. The child's mind is for the most part limited to that which is presented; the mind of the adolescent reaches out to that which is implicated or in- volved in the presentation. In a deeper sense than ever before, the mind now takes hold upon the ideal, builds castles, lays plans, and indulges in day dreams, with all kindred psychic adventures. Feeling is greatly enriched, and many types of feeling impossible to the child now be- come actual. Feeling and thought are brought into closer relation, and hence the emotions, in the deeper sense of the term, are born. The unity of intellect, feeling, and will is consciously realized. Action is less merely imitative, habit- ual, and automatic, and becomes more genuinely volitional; but because it is only " becoming " so, and has not yet completely " become " so, the control of conduct by intelli- gence is not yet constant and reliable, but spasmodic and intermittent. Hence adolescence, though psychologically much in advance of boyhood, seems sometimes behind it in these respects. It is a period of contradictions, opposite moods and tempers succeeding one another with great rapidity. From the very nature of the changes that are now taking CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE-STAGES 19 place, self-consciousness and the social consciousness come at the same time into prominence. Interest in one's own personality, and interest in the personality of others, are two sides of a single movement and develop together. In this there is also involved, as a rule, a profounder under- standing of moral and religious questions. New desires awake, with passions and emotions that have their center of interest and their focus in the larger self, the self whose function in relation to the race, and consequently to all that is involved in the life of the race, is now beginning to be vaguely comprehended. All these characteristics are, of course, only touched upon here in a very general and pre- liminary way. They are to form the subject of more care- ful and detailed study in later chapters. For this reason we may postpone any discussion of the subdivisions of the adolescent period, except this general remark that during the earlier years of the period the development of feeling Is relatively very pronounced; while in the later years the rational powers gradually overtake the emotional, and es- tablish that balance and control which is the mark of matur- Manhood, or maturity, means the full ripening of all the powers. This term, like most others, must be applied In a somewhat loose and vague manner, in so far as the fixing of dates is concerned, for the mental powers may go on developing for many years after the body has reached the highest point of its growth. But in this loose vague sense, and having in mind more especially the physical powers and functions, maturity is reached about the 24th or 25th year in males, and some two or three years earlier in females. After this there Is no further growth. If growth means the addition of anything essential to the complete individual. There may be further increase, or there may be decrease in weight, after this time; there may be many alterations in the proportion of parts, but everything that is required to make the body the competent servant of the will, has now been attained. There may however be much further pro- 20 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE gress in the way of skill, power, and control of the parts and organs. The mind, likewise, has now all the kinds of power it is to have, but it may go on, developing these kinds of power, directing them into new channels, and applying them in new ways, into middle life, and even into old age, under favorable conditions. The leading characteristic here is the consolidation and use of power, with approximate fixity and finality in habits, opinions, tastes, preferences, and ways of looking at things. The capacity for steady and prolonged effort, for unremitting pursuit of one object and purpose, under the guidance of ideas that have become a secure possession, should now be fully achieved. All this may mean, and in too many cases does mean, that the capacity for new adaptations, adjustments, and achievements, is passing away. Radical changes in any im- portant respect are becoming rare. A certain loss of elas- ticity and adaptability is the price which one has to pay for the attainment of full and settled control of all powers. Specialization, moreover, while intensifying the focus of efficiency, limits its range. The bones, muscles, and liga- ments of the body are harder and less pliable ; and the ideas and judgments of the mind tend to assume their final form. The eager interest of youth in that which is new shows signs of falling off. Conservatism in thought, feeling, opinion, and action, begins to show Itself, habits become fixed, and memory less resourceful, especially towards the close of the period. Yet throughout this entire middle third of the life- span there should be no impairment of the powers, and no serious impairment for many years beyond Its close. What is lost in plasticity and adaptability should be gained in accuracy and reliability. Any decrease in the ability to learn and remember should be more than balanced by the increased ability to judge, to reason, and to distinguish be- tween what is worth while, and what Is not worth while, In the light of logical and ethical criteria. If there Is some loss of adaptability to new conditions. It should simply mean that range Is sacrificed to effectiveness, that the individual CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE-STAGES 21 has given up the thought of doing everything, in order that he may do some things well. He has ascertained the field in which his powers may be best employed and has decided to confine his attention to that field. This is in most cases a necessity, since he is now confronted with the practical problems connected with a life calling and a liveli- hood. The consciousness of responsibility in these direc- tions, which did not press heavily on the adolescent and not at all on the child, leads to shortening of the line, and con- centration of the forces. Senescence begins at that point where gain is replaced by loss, not in this or that particular, but on the whole; where physical strength and mental vigor (aside, of course, from disease and accident, to which every age is liable) begin to suffer permanent diminution, in however slight a degree. As soon as the forces that make for disintegration and dis- solution succeed in establishing a settled superiority over the forces that make for Integration and upbuilding, then, however loth we may be to admit It, we have passed the crest, and the tide of life is already on the ebb. The symp- toms are physical and mental. The appetite is less keen, and the desire for physical exercise less pronounced. The senses must be reinforced with artificial contrivances, mem- ory lapses must be guarded against by written memoranda, and one is compelled to look more and more to others for assistance in all those things that require much strength, skill, or speed for their accomplishment. The mind becomes wedded to tradition, and looks back to the golden age. It shows less and less disposition to entertain ideas that are new and strange. Sometimes old age is crabbed and gloomy, but this depends largely on the physical condition, and on the manner in which the earlier stages of the life have been spent. If they have been normal and healthful, in the spiritual as well as in the physical sense, then these closing years should be free from what the Stoics called perturhationes animi, free, that Is to say, from all inner disquietude; and the pilgrim, as he approaches that 22 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE bourne from which there is no return, should be able to look forward into the future without fear and backward into the past without reproach. NOTE. This is perhaps the most convenient place for a brief reference to the theory of Recapitulation, with its educational application In the Herbartian doctrine of Cul- ture Epochs. I do not consider it advisable to burden the pages of a Teachers' Handbook with extended discussion of a doctrine which, on its theoretical side, is open to many criticisms, and has not yet been established, except in the most general way; and whose application in educational practice gives us no results that could not be attained with more certainty by a less circuitous route. The theory is that each individual, in his development, must traverse the same course, step by step, as the race has followed in its development; that if you could hold up be- fore you the history of the individual and the history of the race, side by side, you would see in the former an epitome of the latter; or, in more technical language, that ontogenesis and phylogenesis constitute parallel or coincident series. Pedagogically it would follow, that since the mind of the child unfolds in the same order as the mind of the race, his education must proceed in the same order as the education of the race; and that the construction of educational curricula should be based upon a study of the history of human cul- ture. In so far as the doctrine calls attention to the fact that there is a natural and normal order in individual develop- ment, and that, in the child's education that order should be followed, no exception need be taken, provided we are agreed as to the full and precise meaning of the word " natural." But we hardly needed a subtle doctrine of onto- genetico-phylogenetic parallelism to convince us that nature can best be commanded by first being obeyed. The real question before the teacher is this: What, exactly, is that natural order of develqpment? And that question can be CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE-STAGES 23 answered far more readily and far more surely by the study of the child himself than by speculations regarding his his- toric and pre-historic forbears. There is no intention, in all this, to disparage these phylogenetic speculations, which, like all other efforts to increase the range of human knowl- edge, are wholly commendable. The purpose is merely to intimate that for busy teachers there is another field whose cultivation, for the present at least, is likely to yield quicker and more valuable returns. CHAPTER III THE BODY Man's body is intended to be the instrument of his mind, the trained servant of his will. In the conformation of its parts, in the relation of those parts to one another, in the structure of bone and muscle, of nerve and tendon, of joint and ligament, this purpose is manifest. The complicated mechanism of sense, with its peripheral end-organs, so sensi- tive to the impressions that come from without, and its af- ferent nerve-fibers conducting those impressions to the brain, is obviously fitted to inform the mind, and furnish to it the materials for ideas and judgments about external things. And the equally complicated mechanism of movement, con- sisting of motor centers, efferent nerves, muscles and mov- able members, adapted for locomotion, compression, pre- hension and all the other forms of physical action, is just as obviously fitted to be the medium for the expression of all that is in the soul. Every shade of feeling and every variety of thought, all manner of moods and fancies, de- sires and aversions, loves and hates, purposes and ambi- tions, seek their outlet, and find their realization, through the mechanism of physical expression. Through speech, through writing, in prose and poetry, through art and music, through gesture, facial expression and vocal inflex- ion, as well as through the countless other modes of move- ment possible to man, that which is within becomes expressed and communicated without. If the body is strong, well nourished by proper food, air and sleep, and well trained and hardened by proper work and exercise, then the mind has unhindered opportunity for its own free expression and full self-realization. If the 24 THE BODY 25 body is weak, badly nourished, untrained or diseased, the free activities of the spirit are by so much handicapped or rendered abortive. If the natural growth of the body is prevented by Irrational modes in dress or regimen, if the muscles of the leg are not permitted their full movement, if the diaphragmatic and abdominal muscles are relieved of their functions in whole or In part, If digestion, circula- tion, or respiration, is impeded, either by diseased condi- tions, or by unwise modes of living, the whole mental life is thereby robbed of its birthright of free and full unfolding. If any of the sense organs are deranged or diseased, our perceptions are falsified, and things appear in their wrong colors, tastes, forms, sizes, and distances. Bodily dis- orders immediately and profoundly affect the mental life. Liver complaint and melancholia are In the relation of cause and effect. Indigestion, mal-nutrltlon, anaemia, and other disorders, act as a clog on the wheels of thought, clip the wings of fancy, becloud the mental vision, lower the spirit- ual tone, blunt the edge of conscience, make us irritable with our children, distrustful of our friends, bitter towards our enemies, discontented with our lot, and pessimistic about our future. Defective brain growth means idiocy or imbecility in some of their many degrees, and transfers the individual from the class of those who can take care of themselves and others, to the class of those who have to be taken care of by others. In morals and religion, no less than elsewhere, do the body and the mind stand In this intimate relation. Charac- ter betrays itself In physical bearing, and physical bearing, when it has become habitual, reacts upon character. Atti- tudes suggest ideas, and ideas find vent In attitudes. The highest and holiest aspirations find their avenues of achieve- ment through the bodily organs, and the passions that are low and unworthy obtain their means of gratification also by way of the physical organism. In every age and country certain postures, tones of voice, and facial expressions, have been considered appropriate for the expression of certain 26 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE religious feelings and conceptions; and these postures, tones and expressions in turn suggest and favor the rise of the feelings and conceptions referred to. The body may be the instrument and medium of all that is highest and best, or of all that is lowest and worst, in conception and in con- duct. It may be a pest-house of iniquity, or a temple of the Holy Ghost. Nowhere in the animal creation do we find so complex a physical structure, or so wide a differentiation of functions, as in the body of man. Nowhere else do we find so delicate and highly developed a nervous system, and nowhere else so large a brain, in proportion to the whole body; nor, in the brain, so large a proportionate development of the frontal lobes. Man's body seems intended to serve as the instrument of mastery and dominion. From birth to maturity the dominant feature of the or- ganism is growth; but this term means more than mere increase in bulk. It means also development in structure; alteration in the proportion of parts, giving new contours and outlines; and changes in the closeness of the connex- ions of the parts. The rate of growth in both senses of the term varies greatly, not only as between different organs but also in the same organ at different times. Both the organism as a whole, and the individual parts and members, show many retardations and accelerations of growth. Some parts, such as the brain, have reached almost their full size and weight before puberty; while others, such as the heart and lungs, continue to grow to a much later period. The main, or trunk system appears earlier in the foetus than the limbs, and is in advance of them in the infant; but the limbs de- velop rapidly throughout childhood and into the early years of adolescence, and, for a time, more than restore the bal- ance. There are periods of rest, or of consolidation of the gains so far made, alternating with periods of rapid advance. One of these periods of slow growth takes place usually a little before puberty, or from the eighth or ninth THE BODY 27 to the tenth or eleventh year. Then follows a period of marked acceleration in growth, beginning about the tenth or eleventh year, a little earlier in girls than in boys, and continuing until the fifteenth or sixteenth year, the rate of growth reaching its highest point about the fourteenth year for boys and the thirteenth for girls.' From these points on, the rate of growth falls off somewhat regularly in both sexes. Girls, as a rule, have nearly attained to their full size by the eighteenth or nineteenth year, but boys continue to grow, though at a greatly diminished rate, for two or three years longer. The eighteenth year is regarded by many as a time of great retardation, while the parts of the body are knitting themselves together in preparation for the exacting functions of mature life. The weight of the human body is about twenty times as great at maturity as at birth. A male weighing eight pounds at birth and 160 pounds at maturity might be regarded as a fairly representative case. This increase is spread over some twenty years or more, and takes place, as we have said, not uniformly, but with accelerations and retardations, and indeed, with occasional retrogression. There is often an actual loss of weight for a short period soon after birth, followed, in healthy children, by a very rapid gain up to the seventh or eighth year, diminishing, however, in rate, and with retardations here and there, as in the period of teething, or in the hot season of the year, or on occasion of some of the ailments to which children are subject. Then for a couple of years a noticeable falling off in the rate of gain, followed by a rapid advance through the earlier ado- lescent period and a less rapid advance during the later pe- riod. The rate of increase in the weight of boys culminates at about sixteen, that of girls two or three years earlier. As the period of accelerating increase begins earlier in the female than in the male, it follows that girls are for a time 1 According to King {The High School Age, Indianapolis, 1914, Ch. n) the annual increase may rise in two or three years about the beginning of the teens, from less than three, to five or six per cent. 28 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE heavier than boys of the same age. This is due to the earlier advent of puberty in the female. Girls, on an aver- age, are heavier than boys for about two years, that is, from thirteen to fifteen, but boys are heavier at all other times. By the end of the period of the teens both boys and girls have nearly reached normal adult weight. Height. Taking the average of a very large number of observations and measurements, I find that boys at twelve are usually about 55 inches in height; at thirteen they are about 57 inches; at fourteen they are almost 60 inches, or five feet in height; at fifteen they are between 62 and 63 inches ; and at sixteen they are nearly 65 inches high. After sixteen they grow more slowly, until growth in height ceases altogether somewhere between the twentieth and the twenty-third year. Their most rapid growth in height takes place during the fourteenth and fifteenth years, when the annual increment may be as much as five or six per cent of the total height. The average height of girls, arrived at in the same way, is about as follows: At twelve they are slightly taller than boys ; at thirteen they lead by nearly an inch; at fourteen their lead is reduced, and at fifteen it dis- appears. At sixteen the average boy is more than two inches taller than the average girl of the same age. The rate of increase in height is very much diminished in girls after sixteen, and their full adult stature is reached about the nineteenth or twentieth year. For nearly three years, then, girls are actually taller than boys of the same age. But, as in the case of weight, account must be taken, not merely of the total height of the body, but also of the length of the various parts that contribute to that total. These parts do not all grow at the same rate. In the new-born child, the length of the head is much greater, in proportion to the total length, than at any subsequent time. The same may be said of the trunk, in comparison with the legs and arms. Throughout the entire period of childhood limb- growth Is more rapid than trunk-growth, but in the early teens the growth of the trunk is much accelerated, especially THE BODY 29 in the case of girls, whose lower limbs cover a smaller per- centage of their total height than those of boys at all times after the loth year. The time of most rapid growth of the trunk, as compared with the limbs, is, for girls, about the 13th year, and, for boys, about two years later. The asymmetrical character of growth, to which refer- ance has been made, is especially noticeable in the period of adolescence, where it is so pronounced as to involve a temporary upheaval and loss of complete co-ordination and control. Adolescence is a period of reconstruction, in which many connexions and established associations become loos- ened up, in preparation for the connexions and associations that are to be permanent. The brain increases rapidly in size and weight during the period of childhood, but in the matter of structural and functional development, the organization of its convolutions, and the linking up of its associative neurones, it is still very immature at the end of the period. In all these respects its development proceeds rapidly during adolescence, and is approximately complete in the early twenties, in the sense of being fairly well equipped for all the kinds of work which it will be required to do; though it would hardly be safe to venture any statement as to the time beyond which no further development takes place. This no doubt varies consider- ably from one person to another, and is more or less de- pendent upon a number of conditions, such as nurture and use, whose total efFects are scarcely open to exact calcula- tion. The circulatory system shares in the acceleration of growth-rate during adolescence, but the parts of the sys- tem do not all develop at the same rate. The heart itself grows more rapidly than the arteries during the early years of the period, and its actual size is nearly doubled during the adolescent years; while at about the sixteenth year its weight bears a larger proportion to the weight of the whole body than at any other time. The quality of the blood is believed to be affected moreover by secretions, partly from 30 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE certain sexual glands, and partly from the thyroid and other ductless glands, which exercise in this way an impor- tant influence on all the vital activities. The lungs and larynx increase in size, capacity, and power, especially in boys. The rate of breathing becomes slower, but the volume of air inhaled and exhaled is much increased. Chest expansion is noticeably augmented, and healthy youths delight in games and sports that tend to develop as well as to test the power of the lungs. The nerves become connected into a system in a more complicated way, and the process of meduUation, which is probably essential to the highest conductivity, goes forward towards completion. The muscles, whose growth from birth to maturity is much greater in proportion than any other part of the body, make particularly rapid increase during adolescence, not only in size and weight, but in solidity and power. The gripping strength of the hands doubles, in both sexes, be- tween the ages of eleven and sixteen.^ The increase in the size and weight of the muscles accounts for a large part of the total increase in the size and weight of the body during these years of rapid growth. Development of mus- cular control takes place first in the larger and more funda- mental muscles, and later in those of finer function. This is a repetition of the order in which the muscles come under control in childhood. The infant learns to move the trunk, the head, and the limbs as a whole, earlier than the fingers and toes. So the increase in control and skill that comes in adolescence begins with the larger muscles and proceeds to the smaller. In the earlier years of adolescence, indeed, there may be some actual falling off in the power of control ever the finer muscles, the more fundamental developing for a time at their expense. The skeleton, which at maturity is some twenty-six times as large as it is at birth, makes a great advance about the 1 Sandiford, The Mental and Physical Life of School Children, New York, 19.5, Ch. XVII. THE BODY 31 time of puberty, both in the length and size of the bones, and also in their firmness and strength. We have already seen what large additions are made at this time to the total height of the body. The bones increase also in thick- ness through the addition of new layers under the perios- teum, and in the firmness of their connexion with one another at the joints, by means of the consolidation of the connective ligaments. The chest extends greatly from the advent of puberty up to about the fifteenth year, and con- tinues to do so, though less rapidly, for some four years longer. The most striking change in the shape of the chest, from infancy to maturity, other than the increase in size, is its broadening, or lateral development, which is much more pronounced than its increase in depth, from front to back. In proportion to its girth the thorax is deeper from front to back in infancy than at any subsequent time. One of the most important phases of adolescent develop- ment is that which takes place in all the organs that are concerned, either primarily or secondarily, with the func- tions of procreation. Throughout the whole previous pe- riod the sexual system has lain dormant, and, indeed, in- complete, awaiting the time, as it were, when the body as a whole should have reached that degree of solidity and strength that would enable it to bear the test, and meet the demands, involved in the unfolding of these new func- tions. In other words, the individual must attain to a certain strength and capacity as an individual, before he is ready for those more exacting functions through which he is to make his contribution to the life of the race. By way of prelude then, to the unfolding of the sex capacities, we have that period of comparatively slow but solid growth, which extends usually over the last three or four years of childhood; and then, as the immediate herald of this un- folding, a rapid acceleration in the growth of the whole body, as we have seen, beginning about the eleventh or twelfth year. Sex growth involves much more than can be expressed in terms of anatomy and physiology; but the in- 32 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE tellectual, emotional, and other psychical aspects of the sub- ject may be more appropriately discussed under later head- ings. A full description, even of its physical features, would require more space than can be given to it here. The main facts are fairly well known, especially those that reveal themselves externally. The whole body, and es- pecially the pelvic system, begins to round out towards its adult form. The bones are enlarged and strengthened. The tissues and blood vessels increase in size and capac- ity. In the female a marked development takes place in the hips and in the mammae, while the entire body takes on a new fulness and grace of contour, through the deposition of adipose tissue. In both sexes the hair of the head may change its color slightly, and a new growth of hair makes its appearance on the pubic and other regions of the body. In the male, of course, the growth of hair on the face is one of the most certain of all signs that the transition from boyhood to manhood has begun. In both sexes the organs that are to be specially concerned in the work of the repro- duction of the species enter now on that process of growth which is to culminate at maturity in their perfect fitness to exercise these functions. This means increase in size, modi- fications of form, and development of power and capacity, in the one case for the fertilization of the ovum, and in the other for the process of conception, and the work of nourishing the foetus and bringing it to the birth, as well as the later processes of nurture. The changes just referred to are more largely internal than external. It is worthy of note that the organs of pro- creation are situated, either quite within the body, or in its best protected exterior regions; as though nature were especially solicitous for the safeguarding of the physical sources of life. Here that slow but steady ripening goes on, occupying practically the whole period of the teens; and happy are those boys and girls in whom the process is allowed to complete Itself naturally and normally, neither THE BODY 33 retarded by hardships or repressive regimen, nor hastened by excessive excitements and premature acquaintance with emotions and ideas that belong by right only to adult life. The problem of securing this natural and normal develop- ment is not easy of solution in view of all the influences that are hostile, and yet no other problem is more worthy of attention. While in some respects it may be said that growth is completed at about the twentieth year, in other respects it goes on for many years later. Very little, as a rule, is added to the height of the body, or to the size of the organs, after this age (though the weight may increase or dimin- ish by the addition or subtraction of fat) but development of power, skill, and the capacity of endurance may continue until senescence has set in. By the close of the period of adolescence man may be said to have his equipment sub- stantially complete, but his training, in which he learns how to use that equipment, is far from complete, and presents almost unlimited possibilities of further progress. Reference has been made to the asymmetrical character of the growth of the various parts and organs of the body, especially during the earlier adolescent years. By degrees the balance is restored, and the normal youth and maiden move on towards that symmetry which is the characteristic of the complete man and woman, wherein every power and faculty, every organ and part, enters into a close and vital relation with every other, in the unity of the whole; no single part or faculty being over-developed or under- developed in such a way as to interfere with the full and proper development of every other. This is the true object of education, in the larger sense of that term, which em- braces both body and soul, and endeavors to make of the whole man a harmonious, vigorous, efficient, and beautiful unit, equal to every emergency, fitted foi every legitimate task, ready for every high endeavor, and panoplied, by its own essential wholeness, against the attacks of the forces 34 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE of disintegration. This was the ideal of education enter- tained by the Greeks, who, in the fundamentals of this mat- ter, have not yet been surpassed. In this steady progress of the youth and maiden towards the symmetry of the perfect adult, that awkwardness and ungainhness, which is the price of rapid and asymmetrical growth, and which is particularly noticeable in boys on ac- count of their larger frames and smaller relative deposition of fat, gives way by degrees to the ease and grace of form and of movement, the dignity of carriage, the power of in- hibition and control, which is the birthright of every boy and girl, and should be the secure possession of every man and woman. In the earlier years of the adolescent period this development of control and mastery is temporarily checked in some measure, owing to the rapid increase in the strength of those impulses over which it is to be exer- cised; so that the boy of fourteen or fifteen may show a smaller degree of self-possession and self-control, relatively, than the boy of eleven or twelve. But under judicious training the power lost is rapidly regained and augmented, until in a few years it has passed far beyond what it was in any previous period. The general health of the body, especially during the earlier years of the period of adolescence, may be very well described by the phrase " unstable equilibrium." Growth is rapid, development is asymmetrical, appetite is capricious, and very imperfectly controlled. Likes and dislikes are exceedingly strong, and not always balanced by a strong will. Favorite foods arc indulged in to excess, and eaten too rapidly, with insufficient mastication, and this is fol- lowed by its natural penalty in the form of indigestion, temporary loss of appetite, lassitude, and headache. Foods that arc disliked arc positively loathed. To many young people, especially, girls, fat meat is as distasteful as castor oil, the very sight of it being enough to cause a shudder. Pastry, cake, confectionery, and all kinds of eatables that contain a large proportion of sugar, are, on the other hand, THE BODY 35 eagerly sought after. The appetite for candy seems in some cases practically uncontrollable; and while this may very likely be a sjonptom of some real organic need, it is pretty certain that much of the instability of adolescent health is due to the unrestrained character of the adolescent appetite. What has been said in reference to foods may also be said In reference to all those other things in which youth seeks the satisfaction of its desires. It is an age of intense crav- ings, not well understood, even by the person himself; an age in which soft, bland foods, gentle forms of muscular exercise, and insipid mental pabulum, are detested. Every- thing must thrill. The appetite seeks what is stimulating to the palate, the muscles cry out for strenuous exertion, and the mind for a story with an exciting plot. Hence intemperance, in all its forms, is apt to show itself, and unless checked, to fix itself as a life habit. The first tampering with tobacco, and with alcohol, usually dates from the teens. Secret vice makes its insidious appeal, that becomes with each indulgence vastly more difficult to resist. Moderation, even in spirts and games, is extremely hard to observe; and so the physical strength is overtaxed, leading to periods of reaction, with extreme lassitude and inertia. The nervous excitement and strain that belong to modern social life, especially in the great cities, with amusements that involve late hours, or literary pursuits carried on far into the night, impair the physical vigor at the very time in life when that vigor ought to be most care- fully conserved. And so girls become pale, anaemic, and listless; and boys irritable, quarrelsome, and hard to please. To all of which must be added, In the case of girls, those disorders, delays, and irregularities, which sometimes occur In the menstrual function, and do much to Interrupt and impair the general health of the organism. But, on the other hand, the energy and vigor of the body, the strong flow of blood through the circulatory system, the augmented respiration, and the very brightness and buoy- 36 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE ancy of the spirit of youth, with the intensifying of all the forces of the psycho-physical organism, bring about a powerful resistance to these things, so that recovery is prompt and rapid. And so, though there are a good many petty ailments, and some of a more serious nature, the death rate is very low; lower, apparently at thirteen or fourteen than at any other time in life. The United States Census Report for the year ending May 31st, igoo.V indicates that the smallest percentage of deaths occurred between the ages of ten and fourteen; and this is corroborated, at least for the last two years of this period, by nearly all the other statistical tables I have been able to examine. The general conclusion, indeed, from all the observations, is that the period of most rapid growth (usually from twelve to fifteen approximately), while beset by many ailments, yet has such great power of resistance as to be the period of most marked vitality. That the time of rapid growth is a time of weakness and disease, is a rather misleading statement; for in spite of the anaemias, scolioses, eye- strains, headaches, pulse irregularities, heart-palpitations, indigestions, insomnias, and nervous troubles, that abound In the period of early adolescence, it is nevertheless a period in which the general vitality is high and the death rate low. If one takes the trouble to translate the records of some of the most reliable observations regarding the death rate Into the form of a curve drawn on a chart, covering the nine years from eight to seventeen. It will be found that the two ends of the curve are located at about the same height, and that the curve swings down to its lowest point about midway between. This means that the time of pubescence, the time of most rapid growth, and the time of the lowest death rate, are practically synchronous. ^Quoted by Haslett: Pedagogical Bible School, p. i8i. CHAPTER IV THE MIND: GENERAL TREATMENT Something has been said in the last chapter of the close connexion between the body and the mind, and, by inference, of the importance of the body in relation to the education of the mind, and of the importance of the mind in relation to the development of the body. So close and vital, indeed, is this psycho-physical relation, that some writers have used the term " self " in several different meanings, one of which has reference to the composite whole made up of body and mind taken together.^ There is, perhaps, no other period in the history of the individual life that more imperatively demands, for its due appreciation, an understanding of the intimate relation between the physical and the mental, than that period which we have under review in this book. We have given some account of the growth of the body as a whole, and in regard to its principal parts and organs. We shall now direct our attention to the growth of the mind, first in its broad general features, and afterward in regard to its leading processes and powers, taken separately, so far as that may be feasible. A complete psychology is, of course, not attempted, but only such exposition of the broad and basal facts as shall be requisite for the object which we have in hand. In the first place we should observe the immense variety, and the ceaseless fluctuations among the states and pro- cesses of the mind. The mental life is like a changing sea, that is never at rest ; or like a rapidly flowing river, in which, 1 See e. g. Alexander; Self as Subject and as Person. Artist. Soc. Proc, 1910-H. 37 38 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE as HeracHtus said, no man ever bathed twice, for other waters, and yet other, are continually flowing; or like the kaleidoscope, with its endless diversity of combinations, altering with each slightest motion of the containing tube. Nothing can exceed the vast variety and the marvelous di- versity of the states and processes of consciousness, nor their ceaseless and bewildering changes. One has only to look within to observe how unceasing are the permutations and combinations that take place among the various elements of his conscious experience; and how at one moment it may be the element of feeling, at another the intellectual quality, and at another the volitional feature, that occupies the focal point of consciousness. There are, also, all degrees of clearness, not only in the individual feelings and ideas, but in the total area of consciousness. There are times when the mind is alert, when all our ideas stand forth in high relief, and the entire contents of consciousness are illuminated, as by the sun at noonday under a cloudless sky. At such times mental work Is easy and pleasant. At other times the mind is heavy and dull, and it seems as though a dense fog had settled down over the entire landscape. Even if we confined our attention for the time being to the processes of sense perception, leaving aside all else, we should still find the data exceedingly profuse and diversified. It Is quite true that these sensations may be studied under a comparatively small number of class headings, correspond- ing to the various senses, sight, hearing, touch, etc., with which the organism is equipped; but within this general classification there seems to be scarcely any limit to the number and variety of the sensations that are distinguish- able from one another In some particular. And if we go on to take into account also the processes and activities that are interpretative, or emotional, or volitional in their nature, as well as all the various combinations into which these enter with one another, we shall be still more impressed with the complexity and intricacy of the subject matter with which psychology has to deal. THE MIND: GENERAL TREATMENT 39 Bewildered by this enormous variety, the casual observer may be disposed to conclude that these mental happenings are alike in nothing except in being states or processes of consciousness ; and that this one common feature is so funda- mental and simple in its nature as to defy analysis or definition. We speak of being conscious, and of being un- conscious, and we understand one another. We sometimes use the words in a general sense, as when a person who takes an anaesthetic is said to become unconscious ; and sometimes in a more restricted sense, as when we speak of being con- scious or unconscious of some particular thing. " The clock must have struck the hour, but I was not conscious of it." " To be conscious " in this case, means " to be aware," and so consciousness is " awareness." But in whichever way we use the term, it does not appear possible to define consciousness in the abstract, or by itself, but only by refer- ence to, or In terms of those individual states of which we are conscious. Consciousness is sometimes spoken of under the similitude of a stage or arena, whereon the players act their parts, each in his turn, before the footlights, and then retire to make room for others. But this similitude is not altogether appropriate; for all the actors might depart from the stage of a theatre, but the stage Itself would still remain; whereas if all the individual states and processes of consciousness were removed, consciousness itself would also be removed, for consciousness has its entire content in the states and processes that are conscious. These various mental states do constantly and profoundly affect one another. They are not independent variables, any more than they are mathematical constants. They are in vital and continuous interaction. Thought arouses, and at the same time controls feeling. Feeling facIHtates and also hinders thought. A moderate degree of emotional excitement seems to act as a spur to the intellectual activities ; whereas, if emotion be too intense, it makes clear thinking and cool judgment difficult or impossible. Our ideas In- fluence one another. The admission of a new idea into the 40 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE mind, or its rejection, depends very largely on the sort of ideas that are already entrenched there. Pre-conceptions and pre-judgments frequently close the door of the mind in the face of new ideas. vThere is a disposition in the great majority of us to believe, not what we can prove to be true, but what we hope, or fear, or desire, should be true. " The wish is father to the thought." Desires, aversions, tastes and preferences, go a long way towards determining what we shall think, and how we shall act. Even our very senses are not free from the influence of all these things ; so that, to some extent we see, hear, and touch, what we wish, hope, fear or expect, to see, hear, and touch. As, in the world of matter, every particle exerts on every other a force that varies directly as the mass and inversely as the square of the distance, so in the world of mind, every state of conscious- ness exerts upon every other an influence that varies ac- cording to laws that might, no doubt, be definitely formu- lated, if we possessed full knowledge of the conditions. "* Another fact which each of us can verify for himself is that these states and processes, so multiform and so fluctuating, do nevertheless appear to arrange themselves in a system, and at the center, so to speak, of the system, is that which each of us calls " himself," and which the philo- sophers call the " ego." Whatever difliculty we might have in defining this ego, it nevertheless remains for each of us the rallying point, the inexpugnable center of his experiences, as well as the ultimate ground of their valuation. When ^we think of it (and it is never far from our thoughts) it is represented as some sort of principle that gives unity, mean- ing, and value, to the states and processes that make up the stream of experience. We certainly think of it as one, while they are many, and as abiding, while they come and pass away. It exists not for them, but they for it. The purposes of a treatise which is mainly pedagogical are adequately served if the genuine reality of the self is maintained and its educability recognized, whatever be the definition which shall be finally given of that self by THE MIND: GENERAL TREATMENT 41 the metaphysician. The necessity for serious modification of our procedure could arise only in the event of a con- clusive proof that the term " self " is a term devoid of content, or that the " self," whatever It may be, is wholly incapable of that process of development which we call " education." It is possible to make a certain classification of those mental states and processes, or, more correctly, of the lead- ing features of those states and processes, that make up the life of mind. Such classification is intended, not so much to furnish a table of the ultimate elements of which the mental life is composed, as to show the leading phases or aspects of any total concrete experience. The mind acts as a whole in all its experiences, but there are three fundamentally distinct features in these experiences, one or other of which may be specially prominent in any given case. In the first place we have to notice that these experiences involve that activity or process which we call thinking, and which results in knowledge. Those colors, sounds, odors, tastes, and other sensations which are continually occurring in our sensuous consciousness, seem to furnish the occasion, the starting point, and, as it were, the materials, for the work of the intellect; and the work of the intellect con- sists in their interpretation. A meaning is detected in them. They are taken to stand for, or to indicate the presence of, real objects in the real world. This interpretation yields knowledge in its most primary and concrete form; the per- ception of material things, without which all the higher forms of knowledge would be impossible. But knowledge, in all its forms, is the same in its essential nature, con- sisting always in the interpretation of experience by means of the judgment. The second aspect of the mental life is one which is not easily defined in general terms, but which is fairly well under- stood by all under its common title of feeling. The color of a rose, and its odor, produce an agreeable effect in con- 42 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE sclousness, over and above the bare element of sensation. The memories which they call up have not only their knowl- edge content as memories, but there is also in them a thrill of feeling, more or less intense, perhaps pleasant, perhaps painful, according to circumstances. The accomplishment of a piece of strenuous work, or the solution of a vexatious problem, produces a feeling of pleasure ; while failure, loss, misunderstanding, and disappointment produce feelings that are painful. Almost all mental processes, from the child's vision of a butterfly to the felon's anticipation of the gal- lows, are more or less saturated with feeling. But, in the third place, mental states have not only an intellectual aspect, and a feeling tone, but there is also in them an element of action, striving, or effort. The mind is not merely a storehouse for ideas; it is not merely an instrument that thrills with feeling under every passing condition; it is also an energy by which adjustments and readjustments are made. Every sense-impression tends to set up responses; every ingoing process tends to be fol- lowed by an outgoing process, more or less appropriate ; and ideas in general show a disposition to get themselves trans- lated into action of some sort. Indeed, we may give this statement a more radical form. For ideation and emo- tion are themselves responses, energies, and processes of adjustment. A percept or a concept is not so much a pos- session in the mind, as a construction by the mind, whose very essence consists in the psychic energy by which it is sustained in consciousness. In so far as this psychic energy is initiated and directed by the idea of a purpose to be real- ized or of an end to be achieved, we have will in the stricter sense of that term. This time-honored division of the essential features of the mental life, let me repeat, is arrived at by analysis of the concrete totality of experience. As yielding the funda- mental and distinctive features of that experience it has not been superseded by the minuter analyses of recent psy- chology. For those analyses have not revealed any elements THE MIND: GENERAL TREATMENT 43: of the mental life other than the cognitive, the emotional and the volitional. It would perhaps be idle to raise any question of pre- eminence among things so reciprocally dependent and so co-essential as these; but the prevailing tendency in most ages of the world has been to lay special emphasis on the value of thought or reason, as providing the element of guidance and control to activities and processes that would otherwise be spasmodic and largely abortive. If in will we find the driving force, and in feehng the warmth, it is to thought that we must look for the light that reveals both the end aimed at and the path by which that end is to be reached. The forces and resources of nature are being made available for man's use by the power of thought. The lower animals, many of whom are swifter and stronger than man, yet stand in awe of him because of his intelHgence. He outwits them, defeats them, subdues them, makes them plow his fields, drag his vehicles, and transport his produce to the market. He feeds and clothes himself with the sub- stance of their bodies and the products of their toil. By his care of them, in breeding and feeding, he produces con- tinually higher and more valuable types; and those that re- main obnoxious to him, or incorrigible to his sway, he ex- terminates. Man's dominion over all else upon the earth is achieved and sustained because he alone is endowed with the higher capacities of reflection. With the advent of puberty, and the beginnings of the adolescent period, there is a marked acceleration in the de- velopment of the whole psychic life. The mind, which has been expanding throughout childhood, now expands more rapidly. The intellect essays larger fields of conquest in the way of knowledge. The emotional nature becomes en- dowed with a finer sensitiveness to the subtle shades of the beautiful and the sublime. And the will seems to awaken to a new realization of its own power, and to attempt things that in the previous stages of life never presented themselves as possibilities. New instincts come into play, and new 44 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE interests are developed. These new instincts and interests have reference, In large measure, to human relationships, and they carry with them, in due time, a deeper insight into the meaning of these relationships. The idea of oneself as a little child among little children, doing as he is bidden, without the responsibility of deciding what he should do and what he should leave undone, cared for continually by others, and spending all the time not otherwise requisitioned, in thoughtless play with others of his age, begins to recede, and will soon be pushed aside, its place being taken by the other idea, of oneself as a member of a social order that exists for a serious purpose, and in which each individual has his own part to play, his own course to pursue, his own ends to achieve, his own ideals to realize, while at the same time being under certain obligations touching the rights and claims of the other members of this social order. In child- hood there has been comparatively little thought of what the individual owed to those about him. By this I do not mean that small children are necessarily thoughtless or un- grateful, but only that their minds are not yet capable of a full appreciation of the extent and meaning of their social relationships. With the dawning of these broader concep- tions in the early teens, the boy and the girl become the youth and the maiden, and are already on the way to that physical and mental status which constitutes manhood and womanhood. During the first part of this period, say to the close of the fifteenth or the middle of the sixteenth year, the emotional life seems to develop in a marked way, and in some re- spects to outstrip the intellectual. Or, perhaps It would be truer to say that, while both the intellectual and the emo- tional nature show at this time a marked acceleration of de- velopment, the very vigor and intensity of that development leads to a certain amount of dislocation. In which the con- nexion between the two becomes somewhat less closely knit, and the control of feeling by thought is even less constant THE MIND: GENERAL TREATMENT 45 and less certain- than in the period just preceding. Many orders of emotion are to all intents and purposes new at this time, and they are apt to sweep the soul with a power that is well-nigh irresistible. The same is true of the ideas and images that come and go in consciousness. Many new orders of ideas are now arising, and by their very novelty they hold the mind in thrall, moving it hither and thither as they will. There may be, for a time, a mental condition somewhat analogous to that of a state, in which the masses are strong, aggressive, and perhaps somewhat unruly, and the central government not quite able to assert efFectlvely its rightful authority. The young adolescent scarcely knows what to do with his powers of mind and of body, with the surging tides of feeling, with the procession of images and ideas, and with the vigorous currents of muscular and ner- vous force. But already in the second or later period of the teens the development of the powers of mind and body begins to settle into more regular lines and to take on a somewhat more sober character. There is no falling off in vigor and energy, but that vigor and energy come under more effec- tive control. The forces of passion have not diminished; in all probability they have greatly Increased. But if education has proceeded along rational lines, then these forces should have become more amenable to the authority of the Intellect. The rational mind should come, between the ages of fifteen and twenty. Into greater relative promi- nence in regard to the whole life of feeling, thought and will. Definite concepts In reference to the meaning and the purpose of life, begin to shape themselves In consciousness; clearer judgments as to the relative values of things, and more far-reaching purposes, begin to exert their power In the shaping and government of conduct. Mental growth may be measured, indeed, by the breadth of the view, the depth of the Insight, the steadiness and sobriety of the aims, the loftiness of the purposes that are formed, and the con- 46 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE sistency and persistency with which those purposes are fol- lowed up, all distracting passion, inclination, and inertia being brought resolutely into harmony therewith. Youth is making the transition from the weakness and limitation of the child to the strength and self-mastery of the mature man. He has begun to feel, more intensely than ever before, the passion of achievement. He rejoices as a strong man to run a race. Life stands before him, painted, by his fertile imagination, in colors that glow and fascinate. In his bright lexicon there is no such word as " fail." If the little child entertains extravagant notions of what he can do, it is because he has no clear conception, either of the difficulties of all human achievement, or of the limita- tions of his own powers. If the adolescent still enter- tains notions only a little less extravagant than those of the child, it is because he is only a little better acquainted with those difficulties and limitations. And, on the other hand, his powers have grown in the interval, and there are some achievements to his credit, and the tides of life have risen, the purposes have broadened, and the inspiration and the zest of living have grown greater. The mental vision of the adolescent may not be extremely broad, but it is enormously broader than that of the child; and with that broadened outlook, and that intensified dynamic, in feeling and will, the period marks itself off from all that has pre- ceded, and constitutes the preparation and the prelude for all that is to follow, in the life of maturity. CHAPTER V INSTINCT AND HABIT The connexion between instincts and habits is so close that the two may very well be discussed together.^ But both terms should be taken in a broader sense than that in which they are commonly employed. They should be un- derstood as applying to the entire psycho-physical life, in- stead of being restricted, as they often are, to the merely muscular. Consciousness is essentially a matter of reaction and adjustment, whether you consider the cognitive, the emotional, or the volitional, phase of it. Always there is a stimulus of some sort, and always a response, or a tendency to respond to that stimulus. And everywhere we may see, on the one hand, that certain forms of adjustment or reac- tion are native to the individual and take place directly, on the occurrence of the appropriate conditions, without having to be learned; and on the other, that any form of reaction becomes more firmly fixed, as a rule, with every repetition of it. The term " instinct " refers to the former of these two facts, while the term " habit " refers to the latter. Both instinct and habit, then, have to do with feeling and thought as well as with movement. Indulgence in feel- ings of any given type such as the feeling of anger, strength- ens the tendency to give way to such feelings; and so one forms the habit, say, of getting angry upon the slightest provocation. So one may form habits of thought. By re- peated efforts of close attention to profound subjects, the habit of giving such attention is formed. In like manner it may be said that every phase of our conscious activity is underlaid with instinctive tendencies and the course of its 1 Habit is considered here only in its relation to instinct. In Chapter VIII will be found a further discussion of habit in its relation to will. 47 48 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE development very largely predetermined thereby. It is scarcely too much to say that the instincts are " the essential springs or motive powers of all thought and action," that they " determine the ends of all activities and supply the driving power by which all mental activities are sustained," or that " in them we are confronted with the central mystery of life and mind and will." ^ In the same work, from which ^these quotations are made, instinct is defined as " an inher- ited or innate psycho-physical disposition which determines its possessor to perceive, and to pay attention to, objects of ' a certain class, to experience emotional excitement of a par- 1 ticular quality upon perceiving such an object, and to act in ! regard to it in a particular manner, or at least to experi- ^ ence an impulse to such action." ^ However, since the instincts, considered by themselves, or in abstraction, are mere tendencies, dispositions, or apti- tudes, it is clear that they must be studied through the reac- tions in which they manifest themselves. And since the most palpable of these reactions are those that take the form of muscular movement, it is not surprising that the subject has usually been approached from that point of view, and the instincts, as a rule, defined and described in motor terms. Prof. Lloyd Morgan * applies the term " instinctive activ- ities " to certain groups of co-ordinated acts, which he pro- ceeds to characterize; and Professor James describes at great length and with much care the kinds of actions that may be called instinctive.* Yet It should not be forgotten that certain ways of thinking and feeling, as well as certain ways of acting, are instinctive. In other words the total reaction, the entire cognitive-affective-conative process may be instinctive in its character. For example, we are by nature predisposed to feel the thrill of fear, and to shrink away or fly from certain kinds of objects. The feeling and ^ McDougall, ^n Introduction to Social Psychology, London, 1908, Ch. II. 2 Ibid., p. 29. s Morgan, Habit and Instinct, London, 1896. * James, The Principles of Psychology, New York, 1890, VoL 11, Ch. XXIV. INSTINCT AND HABIT 49 the movement are parts of one total instinctive reaction. The gregarious instinct, and the instinct of possession, in- volve elements of ideation and elements of feeling as well as the tendency towards certain kinds of movement. Instincts might almost be described as race habits. In all probability their origin is to be found in ancestral reac- tions which, having been found to yield satisfaction, were repeated, became habitual through such repetition, modi- fied the organism in a manner favorable to their further repetition, and issued in native tendencies to that sort of reaction in the succeeding generations. Every organ is so constituted by nature as to be fitted to respond in certain ways to the action of certain stimuli; and by a process of natural selection those forms of reaction and adjustment that make for the preservation and well-being of the indi- vidual and of the species to which he belongs are preserved and confirmed, so that the organism becomes predisposed thereto. It will thus be seen that instinct and habit, while easy enough to distinguish and define separately, are yet most intimately connected in our actual experience. The one clear distinction between them is that instincts are in- herited, while habits are acquired. Man is a being plentifully endowed with instincts. Even when compared with the lower animals, he does not ap- pear to be at any disadvantage in this respect, though the contrary was for a long time the generally accepted opinion. The difference between him and them lies in the fact that, as a being also endowed with the higher faculties of the rational mind, his behavior is relatively less governed by mere instinct than theirs, or, what amounts to the same thing, relatively more governed by reflection. While the instincts of all animals are subject to modification In various ways, those of the human being are peculiarly so, because he is capable of reflecting on his Instincts and discovering reasons for wishing to make them other than they are. The pecular marks of Instinctive behavior are mainly these ; 50 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 1. It does not have to be learned by experience, but occurs promptly on the very first appropriate occasion, though it may not be so perfectly executed on this first occasion as afterwards. An infant, for example, does not write spon- taneously the first time a pencil is placed in his hand. Writ- ing, therefore, is not instinctive; it must be learned. But he clasps with the hand the pencil that is placed in the open palm for the first time, though the movement of clasping becomes more firm, prompt and strong with practice. Clasping, then, is an instinctive movement, though writing is not; and the first characteristic of instinctive movements is that they are not learned, in the ordinary sense, but are at once performed, when the proper occasion arrives. As " unlearned reactions " they are to be traced to the original equipment of the individual, through heredity. 2. Though instincts are inborn tendencies, yet they do not in all cases show themselves or issue in their appropriate reactions at the beginning of life. Certain of the instincts, such as the parental, require time for their ripening, as it were. Certain elements of physical growth, as well as a certain stage of mental development, are necessary before these instincts can show themselves. Nevertheless they must be classed as instincts, since they issue, when these con- ditions are fulfilled, and when the proper occasion arrives, in " unlearned reactions," just as truly as the others. 3. " When the proper occasion arrives " means chiefly this, that the appropriate object is presented to the senses. The fear instinct, for instance, issues in its appropriate re- action as soon as a " fearful " object is perceived. This statement, however, does not quite cover the ground, for instinctive movements often occur when the place of the appropriate object is taken by some more or less inappro- priate substitute. Infants of the mammalian order, for ex- ample, are born, as a rule, with the sucking instinct, but the movements of sucking will take place if one places a finger, or almost any other small object, in contact with the child's lips. They may often be seen to occur, in fact, not only in INSTINCT AND HABIT 51 the absence of the proper object, but in default of any object whatever. In such cases it may be that faint memory im- ages of the proper object furnish the stimulus ordinarily provided by the object itself. In any case it is characteris- tic of instinctive movements that they are unlearned sensori- motor reactions to which the psycho-physical organism is predisposed by heredity, and that they ordinarily occur in response to sensory stimulation of a certain appropriate type. Thus they require the conjoint operation of internal and external factors ; that is, of conditions belonging to the organism itself, and other conditions that act as sensory stimuli upon the organism. 4. Another characteristic of instinctive movements is their uniformity. In their original form they are executed in practically the same way by all the members of a species. The instinctive movements expressive of fear are in their main features so similar among all human beings, and even among all the higher animals, that they can be recognized and interpreted at a glance. The same may be said of the movements expressive of anger, or disgust, or love, or of any other group of instinctive movements. There are, of course, slight variations from individual to individual, and slight modifications in the same individual from one occasion to another; yet the fact remains, that any given type of in- stinctive behavior, so long as it remains purely instinctive, takes practically the same form in all the members of the same race, and in all cases of reaction to similar conditions. 5. Yet in another sense instinctive behavior is highly sus- ceptible to modificaton, and that in more than one way. The instincts themselves, and consequently the movements in which they are expressed, are subject to variation, and even to decay and extinction. Instincts are not necessarily per- manent. Just as some genuine instincts do not show them- selves at the beginning of life, so others disappear before the end of it. If an instinct gets no opportunity to express itself, it fades out. Young chicks follow the mother hen instinctively, but if they are hatched in an incubator, and 52 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE never provided with an opportunity to follow, they soon lose all inclination to do so. Even under normal conditions each instinct manifests itself in its own proper season, ful- fills its function, and in due time passes away, either with or without the cessation of the requisite stimulus; usually being overborne and crowded out by other instincts, or by functions of a higher order. The sucking instinct, universal in the mammalia, fades away in due time, partly through the withdrawal of the external stimulus, and partly through the acquisition of teeth and the discovery of other means of satisfying hunger. The disposition to play (which, though instinctive in its nature, is probably due, not to any specific play-instinct, but to the conjoint operation of a number of instincts) is well-nigh universal among young animals, in- cluding the human ; yet it falls gradually into the background as childhood and youth give place to maturity, and exerts a much weaker and more intermittent influence as the mind becomes more occupied with other interests and pursuits. Again, an instinct may become diverted into a new channel, or be directed towards a new object. This is a most im- portant point for pedagogy. It is a fairly safe assumption that most instincts are bound up in some way with the well- being of the individual and of the race to which he belongs, but it is not a safe assumption that the form in which an instinct expresses itself and the object towards which it is directed are such as to be conducive to that well-being. No doubt much of the evil in human character and conduct is due to the perversion of instincts which in their proper and normal exercise are wholly good. There is scarcely an in- stinct which may not be thus perverted. The instinct to avoid danger may develop into cowardice, the instinct of pugnacity into the bullying and quarrelsome disposition ; the instincts that look to the preservation of the self may go to seed in selfishness; and those of an altruistic bearing may issue in a character that is easily imposed upon and deficient in a proper self-respect. But, fortunately, if instincts may be perverted into lower INSTINCT AND HABIT 53 channels, they may also be diverted into higher. The in» stinct of pugnacity may develop the disposition that is ready to defend the right and wage war against the wrong, wherever found; the social instincts may issue in noble and beneficent philanthropy. That instincts, and especially hu- man instincts, are modifiable in both directions, and that they fade out with disuse, or become fixed as life-habits through use and exercise, these are fundamental facts with which the whole theory of education should begin. 6. Most instinctive behavior is purposeful, though not purposive. That is to say, it serves a purpose or end, and is bound up with the well being of the individual and of the species to which he belongs; and yet that purpose or end is not present in the mind of the individual as his deliberate purpose or intention. This is the most marked difference between actions that are instinctive and actions that are volitional. In the latter alone the end or purpose of the act is present in the mind of the agent, and the accomplish- ment of that end or purpose is his motive in acting. In- stinctive actions serve a purpose, but are not performed for that reason. Indeed, in so far as instinctive, they are not performed for any reason, but are the outcome of causes lying in the organism. So Professor James defines instinct as " the faculty of acting in such a way as to produce certain ends, without foresight of the ends, and without previous education in the performance." ^ The sucking movements of an infant's lips, the pecking motions of a newly-hatched chick, and the behavior of a hen sitting on a nestful of eggs, are not purposed, though they serve a purpose. That our instincts are closely connected with our desires, volitions, and habits, goes without saying. Speaking broadly, instinctive reactions are in line with desires, and yield some measure of satisfaction. Moreover, a reaction that is purely instinctive at the outset may be developed later through consciousness of the end in view into a genu- ine desire, issuing in voluntary movement, and this without 1 James, The Principles of Psychology, Vol. II, p. 383. 54 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE altogether eliminating its instinctive features. As Pro- fessor Coe puts it, the instincts are not outgrown or left be- hind, but are developed, and taken up into the larger scheme of things.^ New values appear, and larger interests become involved, but the instinctive tendency remains a feature of the situation. The gregarious instinct is a good example of this. The native tendency to seek the society of others shows itself in little children who do not like to be left alone; in young people who form clubs, societies, fratern- ities and sororities; and in social philosophers who work out comprehensive schemes for the furtherance of human brotherhood; but these instances show to what different degrees the original instinct may be elaborated by reflection and volition, and " taken up into the larger scheme of things." We have seen how instincts may fade out through disuse, or be broken up in other ways and disappear. Where this does not occur the instinct is likely to become so firmly rooted that its total expression continues to be certain and regular. Repeated performance of the instinctive act fixes still more firmly in the organism the disposition to act in that particular manner. Thus not only are instinct and habit closely similar in many of their essential features, but the former, under suitable conditions, develops into the latter; and a large part of our everyday behavior is partly instinctive and partly habitual. As for the classification or grouping of the instincts, this is very frequently based on the familiar threefold division of the psychic life into feeling, thought and will. But if we are right in saying that every instinct involves cognitive, affective, and conative elements, it is hardly possible to make a clear logical classification on that basis. At best one could put into one group those instincts in which the ten- dency to motor reaction is the chief feature, into another those that involve a marked degree of feeling, and into a 1 Coe, The Psychology of Religion, Chicago, 1916, p. 25. See also Thorn- dike, Elements of Psychology, Ch. XII. INSTINCT AND HABIT 55 third those that have a specially pronounced intellectual character.^ As a simple and convenient basis for the study of the in- stincts in adolescent life, it might be sufficient to keep in view the principal centers of interest, round which the ideas and activities of the individual cluster, and in which the deepest feelings of our nature are rooted. The most im- portant of these, I should say, are the self and the social order, while all others are more or less subordinate to, and dependent on these. Admittedly, however, this could not be the basis of a severely rigid division, since the self-instincts and the social instincts (to say nothing of the others) dove- tail into one another in the most complicated way, both in regard to the conditions that call them forth, and the ends that are served in their expression. Most of the important instinctive reactions, especially in the adolescent period, have reference both to the self and to other selves. Yet the classification on this basis gives us at least a point of view for the study of the subject. From the beginning of life there are many instinctive reactions having reference to the self. They are fitted, in a general way, to preserve, protect, and nourish the individ- ual organism. Many movements involved in the taking of food, such as sucking, biting, chewing, are instinctive. Others, serving the purpose of protecting the organism against what is injurious, such as the movements of ejecting bitter or disagreeable substances from the mouth, are equally so. Practically all the fear reactions, such as shrinking, crouching, crying, trembling, hiding, and the like, may also be brought under this head. All the machinery of self- protection springs spontaneously Into action when the citadel of the self is in any way threatened. As time goes on, and the conception of the ego becomes more enriched, there come into play many fine feelings that cluster about this conception; and the native reactions calculated to feed the iCf. Thistleton Mark: The Unfolding of Personality, Chicago, 1915, Chs. III-V. 56 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE • physical organism and protect it from harm, which are the most conspicuous forms of instinctive behavior in childhood, are supplemented by other native reactions, calculated, as it were, to defend the citadel of the moral and spiritual ego, or to nourish the inner life of thought and feeling. To this group belong all the reactions of modesty, shame, and the instinctive repugnance to letting others see or know too much about the self, either physical or spiritual; the feeling that there is an inner sanctuary to which the pub- lic are not to be indiscriminately admitted. This group of instinctive feelings, of which the lower animals show little trace, with the acts by which they are expressed, become greatly developed in adolescence, and constitute a most potent moral safeguard, and a powerful deterrent to the more deleterious forms of vulgarity and vice. It is quite true that this innate modesty shows itself to a certain extent even in early childhood, but it is a long step from the naive shyness of a little child to the exceeding sensitiveness of the youth and maiden to any rude invasion of the sanctuary of personality. It seems to me that this adolescent reserve is a priceless moral asset, which can hardly be too highly respected, or too greatly honored, by those who are con- cerned with the welfare of youth. That boys and girls in the teens usually betray a pro- nounced accession of self-respect, personal pride, jealousy over their own reputation among their companions, and even over personal matters of much less moment, is a fact familiar to all observers. This is almost as much a social as a self instinct, for the two develop side by side and in reciprocal relation. Self-feelings could never mature ex- cept in relation to other selves ; and the social feelings would be impossible without the feelings of the self. So youths and maidens are sensitive about their personal appearance, their clothing, their manners and speech, showing great dislike for shabby or unfashionable attire, and great dis- tress at their own awkwardness and lack of ease in society, especially the society of persons older than themselves, INSTINCT AND HABIT 57 just because they are becoming more vividly conscious of personality, both in themselves and in others, and of the relations between persons in the social order. Those instincts that are directly rooted in the conscious- ness of the self take two chief forms, according as the in- dividual feels moved to self-appreciation or to self-depre- ciation in the presence of other persons or objects. Pride, self-confidence, elation, self-display, and all kindred forms of feeling and behavior on the one hand, and on the other humility, reticence, self-distrust, diffidence, and self-efface- ment, are equally products of the heightened consciousness of selfhood that comes in the youth period. Thus, grow- ing out from the single root of self-consciousness, there are two main stems, positive and negative self-feeling, as Mc- Dougall calls them,^ each with many branches. Of course it is a commonplace to say that in some individuals the posi- tive self-feelings predominate over the negative, while in others the reverse is the case. History teems with records of the boldness and self-assertion of young men in their teens, and of their reckless and daring exploits, some of which have resulted in great good, and others in great evil ; but it also furnishes the chronicle of many acts of self-abase- ment, of self-immolation, and of sacrifice, on which the same double comment may be made. Positive self-feeling, over- grown, has given the world its despots and autocrats, great and small; while negative self-feeling, gone to excess, has provided these despots and autocrats, whether in the tem- poral or in the spiritual realm, with hordes of willing serfs, to render them homage, to bow the neck under their yoke, to fight and die that they may gratify their pride and indulge their passions. On the other hand it must be admitted that the healthy development of positive self-feeling has had much to do with the world's real progress, with thwarting the despots' ambitions, and with wringing charters of liberty from their reluctant hands; while negative self-feeling, in due proportion, is the explanation of many of the noblest ''■Introduction to Social Psychology, Ch. III. 58 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE deeds that men have done, and of much that belongs to the higher levels of human attainment, in character and in purpose. Not only is it a commonplace to say that in some persons the instinct of self-assertion, in others the instinct of self- abasement, is usually in the ascendant, but it is also a familiar fact that in the majority of us there is a certain amount of fluctuation between these, the one or the other getting the upper hand for the time being, according to circumstances. And this is specially true of boys and girls in their teens. There are times when modesty and sensitiveness do not appear specially conspicuous, but there is a swagger and a bravado that appear to contradict all our theories. These things, however, may be taken as symptoms of the instability of the individual character at this age, when settled con- victions and fixed habits of conduct are not yet. No true self-appraisement has yet been made; no matured and rea- soned judgment as to one's own worth, and the range and quality of one's own powers, has yet been possible. Feel- ing outruns reflection ; and feeling is peculiarly liable to fluc- tuation. Opportunities to measure oneself against others, or to test oneself in the face of trying circumstances, have not yet been numerous. The child has lived a sheltered Hfe, and in many cases an exaggerated estimate of his own worth is actually fostered in him, through parental affection. The Public School usually brings a certain measure of disillusion- ment, and the High School still more, as the child discovers that there are other children, quite his equals, and perhaps his superiors, in the classroom or the play-ground. But a still more complete self-revelation comes to him at College, or in the world of business, where the area of comparison is so much wider, and the tests so much more exacting. Now, if ever, he finds his true level, and fits himself into the place he is to fill in the world. But all this is not accomplished without some shock to the sensibilities of the self. Any temporary success elates, and any temporary failure depresses. Self-assertion and self- INSTINCT AND HABIT 59 abasement alternate with each other, often very abruptly, and with violent action and reaction. Pride and vanity are easily flattered, and easily wounded, with corresponding revulsions of feeling. In the majority of us, the entire period of youth, to say the least, is required for anything approaching a due measure of control and balance in refer- ence to this group of instinctive tendencies. Positive and negative self-feeling, and the instincts asso- ciated therewith, rest upon the value or worth of the self, as a sort of tacit postulate or presupposition. The fear instinct, including the tendency to fly away, or hide from, or seek protection from, objects that seem likely to harm I the self; and the instinct of pugnacity, which shows itself in active resistance to that which would interfere with the ' purposes and activities of the self, have their basis equally in the self-feeling. Both instincts serve the interests of the self; the one in avoiding injuries, the other in resisting en- 1 croachments; and both undergo great modifications in the transition from childhood, through youth, to maturity. Many of the objects which, in childhood, called into play the fear instinct, are no longer, in youth, able to do so; nor does the instinct, when aroused, quite so infallibly take the form of flight and hiding, or seeking the protection of other persons. The boy of fifteen may feel very much afraid of an angry dog, just as a little child does; but instead of fleeing for refuge to the nearest adult, he seeks his own means of safety or defence. The instinct of pugnacity acts as a counterpoise, and also as an ally, to the instinct of fear. The instinct of pugnacity itself, especially in the case of boys, becomes modified, both as to the range of its objects and occasions, and as to the manner of its expression. The pugnacity of a child takes small account of any circum- stances bearing on the motive of the offensive act. The small child knows but little of motives, and of the relation- ships of persons, and the rights and obligations growing out of such relationships. Physical pain, deprivation of toys or other possessions, and kindred injuries, arouse directly 6o THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE and immediately the pugnacious instinct, irrespective of any considerations lying beneath the surface. And with the ces- sation of the pain, or the restoration of the lost toy, the pugnacious mood rapidly subsides. In other words the instinct is aroused by any obstruction to the child's will, and subsides with the removal of that obstruction. But in youth the process is not so simple or so direct. Circum- stances more far-reaching are taken into acount. Motives, causes, and purposes are considered, and the instinctive re- action is checked and modified by the reason. It follows that growing youth take good-humoredly many things that would throw a child into paroxysms of anger; while they cherish deep and lasting resentment over injuries by which the spirit of a child would remain totally unaffected. The social instincts are the correlative and the comple- ment of the self-instincts, and the two groups develop to- gether, as we have said. No doubt the interest in other persons is the strongest of all human interests, save only that which centers in one's own personality. Man is by nature a social being. Not only does he need the society of his fellows in view of his own convenience and safety, but, as Aristotle so wisely re- marked, he needs that society to provide him with the op- portunity of unfolding the most essential qualities of his own character, and to* furnish an outlet for his own proper activities. In other words, man does not, and cannot, fully realize himself, save in relation to his social environment. Accordingly, interest in that social environment shows it- \gelf very early. An infant of a few weeks will notice the difference between society and solitude, and show his un- easiness when left alone, by unmistakable signs. A little child looks for the sympathetic interest of others in his affairs, promptly reports his little accidents and mis- haps to them, as well as his little pleasures and successes, and gives every evidence of finding that his joys are multi- plied and his sorrows divided through their participation. This social need finds satisfaction, not only in the presence INSTINCT AND HABIT 6i of adults, but also in that of other children, especially of those who are Jiearly of the same age. Even as I write these words, a little lad of eight, who yesterday played all day in the happiest fashion with another child of about his own age, sailing toy ships on the little stream that flows by the bottom of the garden, is to-day showing every sign of loneliness, and has not once gone near the stream, because the little companion Is absent. During the first dozen years of life this interest in others is naive, and largely unreflec- tive. The social environment is taken for granted. But as childhood gives place to youth it takes a deeper and stronger hold upon the emotions and ideas. More intimate and lasting friendships are formed. The most permanent friendships, in fact, are those formed during the High School and College periods. Here also, more noticeably than elsewhere, the gregarious instinct shows itself in the formation of clubs, " gangs," and other groups, having def- inite social ends in view, and in the organization of " teams " for the various forms of competitive play. Few things, in fact, illustrate more clearly the growth of the social consciousness than the development of play through childhood and youth to manhood. The very young child plays alone, absorbed in the noise of his rattle or the movements of his ball, and in the way in which his own efforts produce effects in these things. If he plays with other children, or with adults, it is from much the same point of view, as it were. These other persons are really so many things, making sounds and movements, that hold his attention and amuse him. A little later, in the Kinder- garten period, these other persons come to be recognized as such; and we may see here, in a small way, the beginnings, both of the idea of co-operation and of the idea of compe- tition in play. Both these ideas, however, are fully de- veloped only in later periods. In the boy-and-girl period (say from the eighth to the twelfth year) they make con- siderable progress; but for the full realization of competi- tion and co-operation together, we must look to the period 62 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE of youth. Here we find the real emergence of the social consciousness in the recognition of the claims of the social unit and the obligation resting on each individual to be loyal to that unit. In play the most common form of the social unit is the " team," playing a match against another team. Here each boy regards himself, not as a mere in- dependent individual, but as a member of the team. In the interests of the team his interests are merged, at least for the time being. The victory of the team is his glory, and the defeat of the team is his humiliation. Long courses of severe training, with much self-denial, are cheerfully undergone, not for any personal advantage, but in the in- terests of the social unit. The value of all this in reference to the building of character and the cultivation of those per- sonal qualities that make for the highest type of true citizen- ship, is potentially very great. The high character of Brit- ish statesmanship is not entirely unconnected with the cricket fields attached to the Schools and Colleges of Britain. The pedagogic bearings of the subject will be referred to in our final chapter. Little need be said here regarding the theory or philos- ophy of play in general. By some writers play is explained as a means of draining off superabundant nervous energy. This is no doubt partly true, but it does not account for the fact that play often acts as a recuperative force, restoring nervous energy to tired people who have used up all their surplus, nor for the fact that in other cases play is persisted in to the point of utter exhaustion. By others play is ex- plained by reference to the theory of Recapitulation. But the theory itself is open to many objections, chief among which is this, that we have no proof, either that the race has passed through " culture-epochs " with that uniformity and definiteness required by the theory, or that, if it had, the child of the present day must of necessity retraverse and recapitulate that process in his play. Others, in explaining play, look to the future rather than to the past, taking the teleologic instead of the atavistic viewpoint, and regard the INSTINCT AND HABIT 63 play of children and young animals as a preparation for life's serious business, rather than an echo of the racial ac- tivities of past generations. There is no doubt in my mind as to the teleologic value of play; and perhaps it is hardly necessary to point out that the word " teleologic " here should not be taken to mean that the purpose of play is present as an idea in the mind of him who plays (which would be inconsistent with that which is most characteristic of true play, viz., its disinterestedness and freedom from ulterior aims) but only that play does, as a matter of fact, serve the purpose referred to. This theory, however, scarcely accounts for the plays and sports of adults and per- sons advanced in years, whose play is rather a relaxation from, than a preparation for, the serious business of Hfe." The simplest explanation of play seems to be this : the active use of all the powers, of mind and body, is in itself intrinsically pleasant, under normal conditions, apart from the ends aimed at in those activities. To gratify Innate proclivities and tendencies is also in itself pleasant. Given a psycho-physical organism, endowed with all manner of powers and energies, nothing is more natural than that those energies should be used. Instead of being inhibited and forced to remain inactive. " With the presence of a cer- tain organ goes, one may say, almost always a native apti- tude for its use." ^ It follows that children and young animals are, as a rule, active and energetic. The general nature of their activities Is determined by several factors, one of which is the negative circumstance that the mind at that age is Incapable of those far-reaching ideas and pur- poses that lie at the basis of whatever difference there Is between play and work. In play the interest Is simple, di- rect, and intrinsic; in work It is complex, indirect, and ulterior. The interests of children are of the former type only; hence children play, but do not work. Another factor in determining some of the principal forms of play is the inborn tendency to imitation. Much of the 1 James, The Principles of Psychology, Vol. II., Ch. XXIV. 64 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE play of young children especially takes the form of repro- duction of the observed activities of older persons about them. The farmer's child, who plays at plowing, sowing and reaping, illustrates both facts; his movements are imita- tive, and his interest in what he is doing is simple, direct, and instrinsic. The movements themselves, rather than any far-away results of those movements, constitute the in- terest and the fascination of his play. To say this is not to deny the teleologic character of play, but only to say that the ultimate ends (skill in vari- ous activities and movements, and in a word, preparation for life's serious business) are not present as ideas and mo- tives in the mind of the player. That the play of children does, as a matter of fact, serve as a factor in the preparation for life, is to my mind overwhelmingly clear, and in this sense play is teleologic in its nature. In the play of adolescents the eleme;it of imitation figures less prominently, but the other factors, the disposition to give rein to all the energies and powers, physical and mental, and the simplicity and directness of the interest evoked, maintain their strength. The imitation impulse is supple- mented, and partly supplanted, by construction, and the working out of original ideas. And further, as already pointed out, co-operation and competition, with social unit pitted against social unit in team sport, becomes a most pronounced feature of adolescent play. The sexual and parental instincts, though among the most powerful of the factors that condition the unfolding of the social consciousness, exert but little influence in childhood; the parental chiefly in the case of little girls, who play with dolls, and frequently betray a fondness for real babies. In the teens, with the unfolding and maturation of the sexual and parental capacities, these instincts make themselves felt in a most powerful manner, especially the sex instinct, which, in the case of boys at least, seems to overshadow the other for the time being and keep it in abeyance. This is one of the best examples of an instinct which, though genuinely INSTINCT AND HABIT 6s innate, does not show itself at once, but awaits the time when the conditions essential to its expression are realized. It goes without saying that the emotions arising out of the facts and relations of sex are among the most powerful with which man is endowed. The whole subject is of such importance, especially in regard to the period of youth, that it has been thought well to devote an entire chapter to its discussion.^ Further remarks need not, therefore, be added here. Aside, however, from all questions of sex, the social in- stinct reveals itself in youth in another way. There is a greatly increased interest in, and often a greatly augmented respect for, adult companionship and adult opinion. The future begins to impress itself upon the boy or girl; and with that new interest in what the future may have in store for him or her, there comes also a new interest in the doings and sayings of those who have already reached adult life. The adolescent has great interest in his elders. He may set up some adult friend or relative as a sort of model, after whom to fashion his own life. Consciously or unconsciously he imitates, to a greater or less degree, the speech and man- ners of this adult friend. Even though he may make an extravagant show of independence of all adult models, and of all adult counsel, he is still swayed by a secret conviction of their wider experience and superior wisdom. Usually the parents stand first in this matter of personal influence, with the teacher a fairly close second. Admiration, per- sonal attachment, and hero-worship, rhay reach extravagant proportions; and there may be noticed an interesting con- trast between the feeling of self-elation in reference to those who are younger and smaller, and the feeling of self-abase- ment in reference to those who are older, and presumably stronger and wiser than himself. Some writers have spoken of a religious instinct; but it is now generally agreed that the religious feelings are com- plex emotions, made up of wonder, awe, reverence, and nega- iSee Ch. X. infra. 66 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE tive self-feeling, and that religion is based, not on a single Instinct, but on several. Some attempt will be made in a later chapter,^ to analyse the religious consciousness, par- ticularly of adolescence, so as to show how native instincts enter Into its structure. In addition to those forms of instinctive reaction referred to in the foregoing, there are others that are called forth by certain qualities in the objects and situations incident to everyday experience. Among these are the instincts of curiosity, repulsion, acquisition, and construction, all of , which have a good deal in common. The instincts of curi- 1 osity, acquisition, and construction may be observed In opera- 'tion from early Infancy. The Inborn disposition to move the muscles finds its external stimulus and Its satisfaction In all sorts of objects, which can be handled and pulled about In all sorts of ways. This disposition remains throughout life, but the merely instinctive aspect of it becomes overlaid with conscious purpose and more or less fixed habits. From a very early age the instinct of acquisition or possession may be seen in operation, notably in the collections so character- istic of most children, and particularly strong at about ten years of age. The most Important feature In the develop- ment of these Instincts is the increasing role of the Idea of purpose In the making of the collections, and, along with this, clearer notions of classification. Young children collect things without any definite end in view, and hoard them up without any definite order or system. The Idea of posses- sion is now seen in Its most primitive form. Possession means getting hold of a thing (it scarcely matters what) for the time being. A few moments later all thought or care about this particular thing may have vanished, though at the time the child would have made vociferous protest against Its removal from his grasp. From Infancy to adolescence there Is a steady development of the concep- tion of ownership, and that which is mine becomes sharply distinguished from that which is not mine. Yet there is iSee Ch. XIII infra. INSTINCT AND HABIT 67 still but small appreciation of anything like values, either monetary or otherwise. During adolescence the idea of possession becomes enriched by the notion of value in the thing possessed. And such value may include more than mere money value. Not only does the young adolescent be- gin to acquire some conception of the purchasing power of money, and of the cash equivalents of many of his posses- sions, but he also begins to apprehend other and deeper standards of valuation. A book, for example, may now be prized, not merely as an attractively colored object, as with a child, nor merely as a thing which is mine and not yours, as with a little boy or girl, nor merely because it cost such and such a sum of money, but, what is more important, for the literary value of its contents, or for the message which it speaks to the soul of its reader. Curiosity, or the desire to know the nature of objects, rests upon an instinctive tendency that comes into operation in early infancy. Little children are fascinated by new objects, stare at them, and, unless the fear instinct acts as a deterrent, pull them about and try to take them to pieces. Later they ask numberless questions as to the nature and uses of these things. In youth this native instinct becomes developed into a keen and active interest in all manner of things, including the processes of nature and the products of the Inventive genius of man. I have in mind a case, typical of many, where the interest in electricity, with all that pertains to It and all that can be achieved by means of it, began to develop before the end of the period of childhood, and has continued to be an absorbing passion throughout the period of youth, as it probably will continue to be through the whole of life. Transformed by the powers of reflec- tion, and " taken up Into the larger scheme of things," this ! native instinct of curiosity becomes the mainspring of all' scientific investigation, of all discovery and Invention, in alii the realms of thought and action open to man. In the period of boyhood (from eight to twelve) the instinct of curiosity becomes greatly reinforced by the in- 68 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE stinct of construction, when things are used as materials and tools in the making of other things. In the adolescent period all these instinctive actions still persist, though taking on new forms, and involving many new objects and many new uses of those objects. Moreover, as in all other cases, the instinct itself becomes more or less merged in the rea- son ; and thus primitive curiosity becomes purposive and in- telligent investigation; inquisitiveness is more methodical, the youth demands more adequate answers to his questions, not being any longer content with mere general statements or loose analogies; while construction takes on a much wider range, and is undertaken for more remote and far- reaching ends. The constructions of the adolescent are of a far more permanent and purposive character than are those of the child. Things now begin to be used in ways that involve a reference to the whole purpose of life, and ' the place of the things in the realization of that purpose. , The instinct of repulsion, with the feeling of disgust for ■j certain objects, is one of those native tendencies which come out most strongly in the youth period. Little children are notoriously obtuse and indifferent with regard to many tastes, odors, and touch sensations, which at a later age awaken the most poignant feelings of disgust. Adolescence, on the other hand, is extremely sensitive to these things. To come into contact, through any of the senses, with slimy or slippery substances, with decayed fruit or vegetables, with dead animals, or with filth in any form, causes intense discomfort and strong repugnance; though many marvel- lous inconsistencies may be found. I have known boys of fifteen who could not bear to look on while an inflamed eye was being bathed with boracic acid, but who would carry and use a pocket handkerchief until it was soiled almost be- yond recognition or description. It will be dear, even from this brief and imperfect dis- cussion of the instincts, first, that these innate tendencies are of the highest conceivable importance in human life, I practically determining, in a general way at least, the main INSTINCT AND HABIT 69 lines of its development; and secondly, that among the instincts, some that are of the greatest significance for the life of the race, come for the first time into operation and: make themselves felt as forces in individual conduct, in the period of adolescence. CHAPTER VI EMOTION, OR THE CAPACITY TO FEEL There is no phase of our Inner experience more easy to imagine, more difficult to describe, than the feeling phase. It lends itself less readily to definition, or to any sort of verbal formulation, than either the cognitive or the cona- tive features of consciousness. Yet it is deeply rooted in the subsoil of the mental life, and it conditions and qualifies, often in the most pronounced fashion, all the movements of intellection and conation. It is particularly difficult to write with any fulness on the subject of the emotions taken by themselves, and apart from the objects that cause them and the movements by v^hlch they are expressed. Psychology, apparently, has no vocab- ulary suited to this task. What would one say, for exam- ple, of the feeling of anger, apart from the objects and cir- cumstances that arouse this feeling In the mind, and the words, gestures, changes of color, and the like, by which the angry person betrays his inner state to the onlooker? Beyond question the feeling is something real, apart from these; it is to be identified, neither with its cause nor with its outcome; but to express what it is in itself, as a purely psychic experience, is exceedingly difficult, If not altogether Impossible. The causes of our feelings are many and various, includ- ing bodily conditions, sensuous experiences, pleasant or pain- ful, ideas, beliefs, convictions, or other intellectual contents; and the expression of our feelings is accomplished by means of words, gestures, and other movements, most. If not all of which, are in the first Instance instinctive. All the causes and consequences of feeling, therefore, belong outside the realm of feeling (except in so far as one feeling may be the 70 THE CAPACITY TO FEEL 71 cause or the effect of another) and so a full account of the feelings involves much else besides the feelings themselves. In the chapter on Instinct a good deal has been said of the simpler emotions, as was inevitable, on account of their intimate association with instinct in actual experience; con- sequently the treatment here may be briefer than it could otherwise be. In fact, the relation between the primary instincts and the simpler emotions is so close that they are really different phases of the same thing, rather than differ- ent things; and the suggestion has been made that they should be represented by the compound term " instinct- feeling," instead of by separate names.^ Feeling would appear to be more primitive and funda- mental than intellectual activity, to develop earlier in man, and to be more widely distributed among organized beings generally. Many organisms that possess little or nothing of what might be called cognitive experience are capable of feeling, at least in some of its simplest forms. It consti- tutes the tone, or affective quality, of all mental states, and has important bearings on the course of our ideas and the character of our volitional reactions. Physiologically, feeling appears to be connected more closely than ideation with the sympathetic nerve system, and by this connexion it becomes delicately responsive to the general condition of the organism as a whole. It is closely related also to the cerebro-spinal system, but this relation obtains indirectly, through the processes of ideation, rather than directly, except in so far as all conditions of the organ- ism, including those of the nerves, exercise a certain direct influence upon the state of the feelings. Feeling is liable to all manner of fluctuations, both in 1 " I have suggested that we use the term ' instinct-feelings ' to indi- cate the conscious coincidents of the animal activities we call instinctive; and I have endeavored to show that when these instinct actions are rela- tively fixed and forceful, then their coincident instinct feelings gain names, and form the class of psychic states known as the emotions." (H. Rutgers Marshall in Nature, Vol. LII, quoted by Lloyd Morgan, in Habit and In- stinct, p. 193.) 72 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE quality and in intensity; and these fluctuations are due to a great variety of causes, ranging all the way from some special condition of the physical organism to some specific operation of the intellectual or volitional powers. The feel- ing tone, even in the most stolid among us, is perhaps the one thing in us that is specially susceptible to the influence of slight and transient causes. The words " feeling " and " emotion " are commonly used without any very clear distinction of meaning; and perhaps no very radical separation of the two is possible. It has long been the writer's habit to use the word " feel- ing " in a broad general sense, to cover the entire field of our affective consciousness, reserving the word " emotion " to signify, within this wide field, those feelings that are con- ditioned upon, and determined by, the more definite opera- tions of the intellect. The difference may be one of degree, rather than of kind; but at all events it serves very well to distinguish such feelings, let us say, as are experienced by an infant who shrinks back at the approach of a stranger, from those of an adult who ponders upon some great moral wrong, or who considers ways and means of accomplishing some great moral reform. Feeling in every case is the af- fective element in a state of consciousness; but if that state of consciousness is a very simple perception, or a primitive impulse, the affective element is simply feeling; whereas if it involves some of the higher forms of conception and judg- ment, the affective element is emotion proper. No special plea is made for this use of the two terms, except that it has been found somewhat serviceable in the effort to think clearly on a rather obscure subject. Within the meaning of the terms " feeling " and " emo- tion " certain useful distinctions have lately been drawn by psychologists. The Primary emotions have been carefiilly distinguished from the Secondary or complex emotional states; ^ and it is pointed out that the really primary and 1 See McDougall, Social Psychology, Chs. Ill and V. THE CAPACITY TO FEEL 73 simple emotions ("feelings" they would be, according to the use of the terms explained above) are comparatively few in number, and are connected, each to each, with the more important and powerful instincts, of which they con- stitute the affective quality. Thus the emotion of fear is the affective quality of the instinct of flight; the emotion of disgust is similarly related to the instinct of repulsion; the emotion of anger to the instinct of pugnacity, and so on. The Primary emotions are experienced in their pure form by the lower animals ; less commonly by human beings, except very young children. The emotions of human beings generally are of a more complex kind, arising from the con- current excitement of more than one instinctive disposition, as well as coming under the modifying influence of the intel- lectual powers. Many of the feelings that are usually styled emotions are spoken of by McDougall as sentiments, a sentiment being defined as " an organized system of emo- tional tendencies centered about some object." Love and hate are sentiments rather than emotions, since the feeling tendencies have become systematized and organized with reference to an object, or class of objects, to be loved or hated as the case may be. In the absence of such organiza- tion, with the object as a thought-construct and not merely a perception, there could hardly be a sentiment in the proper sense, though there might be simple or primary emotions in abundance. It will be obvious that, according to the view here taken, the emotions, or at all events the more complex emotions, rest upon and are determined by, the activities of cognition. Ideas in consciousness give rise to feelings, and these in turn find vent in various forms of bodily expression, such as gestures and other muscular movements. The order is this, — first the mental perception, then the mental affec- tion, and finally the outward or physical expression. Ac- cording to the opinion of some authorities, however, this physical expression, at least in the case of the simpler feel- 74 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE ings, comes between the mental perception and the mental affection; so that "we feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble," ^ instead of crying because we feel sorry, striking because we feel angry, and trembling because we feel afraid. The plain facts of experience, however, appear to stand in the way of the theory, and to do so most obviously in the case of those very feelings that are cited in its support. At least it constantly happens that a mental perception is followed by a mental affection, and there may or may not supervene upon these a bodily expression. It should, however, be clearly recognized, that impressions and ex- pressions, of various sorts, have become, through long association in racial experience, so closely connected that the appropriate motor discharge tends to follow habit- ually and almost automatically upon the impression, the entire process, sensory and motor, exerting its appropriate influence upon the sources of feeling, and leading to the appropriate feeling responses. In this way, no doubt, there are formed, between certain mental perceptions and certain motor reactions, links of association so strong that the latter follow upon the former with mechanical prompt- ness and regularity. It is also beyond question that every rs6rt of psychic process tends to have its own feeling ac- companiment, whether that process be ingoing or outgoing; I and therefore, if the feeling of anger and the act of striking Ihave been associated sufficiently often to set up a habit, then j whichever of these should happen to occur, it will be likely to bring up the other. The feeling of anger will tend to ex- press itself in the motor process .of striking; and conversely, if in any way, or through any cause whatever, the attitude of striking should be assumed, the feeling of anger may be experienced in greater or lesser degree. In other words, states that have been often in consciousness together tend to recur together; or, if either of these states should recur the other is likely to recur also. This is simply one form 1 James, The Principles of Psychology, Vol II, Ch. XXIV. THE CAPACITY TO FEEL 75 of the familiar principle of association, and the facts by which it is illustrated and verified, though highly interesting and important as psychical facts, do not seem to me to war- rant the conclusion that the order in which the associated processes arise is always the same; that the movement al- ways leads to the feeling, while the feeling never leads to the movement. The more complex emotions, such as admiration, awe, reverence, gratitude, scorn, contempt, hatred, joy, grief, pity, shame, as well as the aesthetic feelings, and the senti- ments of moral approval and disapproval, are hardly pos- sible in any well-developed forms in early childhood, on account of their complexity, which means, here, their de- pendence on the organization of the instincts about cer- tain centers of apperception, a process requiring time and ex- perience. Young children are moved directly by the primary instincts, and the feeling phase of their instinctive behavior is constituted by the simple emotions of fear, re- pulsion, anger, and the like. These simple emotions may be very intense while they last; indeed they may have any de- gree of intensity; but they do not share in the characteristics of the higher emotions, through lack of that experience and mental power which are indispensable to those higher emo- tions. Especially do they lack the foundations provided by the organized sentiments; for it is exactly this organization of the emotional tendencies about certain objects that Is wanting in the life of early childhood. But youth brings with It the capacity for these higher and more complex feelings. It goes almost without saying that youth is a time of deep and strong emotion. This is per- haps its most conspicuous feature. The adolescent craves for emotional experience almost as much as for food and drink. The earlier part of the period, up to the i6th or 17th year, is specially characterized by this capacity to feel and this craving for feeling stimuli. This It Is that. In con- junction with the need of muscular activity, accounts for much of the restlessness of youth. In the later years of the 76 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE period the tides of feeling are somewhat better regulated, and their ebb and flow are just a shade more sober and steady; not because feeling itself is any less strong, but be- cause it has become subject in a larger measure than before to the control of the higher thought powers. This marked development of the emotional nature in adolescence is commonly attributed to the unfolding of the sex functions, and this is no doubt one of its most important conditions. But it is not the only one, for, as we have seen, there occurs now an expansion all round, affecting not only the growth and organization of the body, including the brain and nerves, but also the intellectual capacities, and various forms of power and energy; and all this expansion liberates fresh tides of feeling. Sexual development, while no doubt very central and potent in it all, is neither the sole cause of the quickening of the emotional nature, nor does it pro- vide the only objects by which the emotions may be stirred. Indeed, as has been remarked by more than one writer, if the emotional life of the teens should become too much centered about the sexual capacities the condition must be regarded as abnormal. Nothing can be more important and necessary than the diffusion of the forces of feeling by open- ing up to them as many legitimate channels as possible; and few things could be more disastrous than the concen- tration of the emotional energies upon any limited number of apperception fields, whether the sexual field or any other. But perhaps the most dangerous concentration of all would be that which has the sexual life as its focus. A prime factor in the deepening of the life of feeling is the expansion of the intellectual powers, and the unfolding of the capacities of judgment and reflection. In youth one is better able than in childhood to comprehend the inner meaning of the various social relationships in which he stands, such as his relation t-o the members of his own fam- ily, to his comrades at school, to his teachers, his neighbors, friends, fellow-citizens, even to the nation under whose flag he lives, and to the race of which he is a member. He has THE CAPACITY TO FEEL 77 a clearer idea of his duty, as involved in all these relation- ships; a better conception of what is expected of him by others, and of what he has a right to expect from others. His sense of justice, and his capacity to feel injustice deeply, are much more marked than in childhood, chiefly by virtue of his better understanding of what constitutes an act of in- justice in specific instances. He gets a larger conception of what he owes to himself, of what he may make of him- self, and of the place he may fill in the world. And all these ideas and judgments have their part to play in de- termining the character and the intensity of his emotions. Not only the quality but the range of the emotional life, is greatly enlarged in the period of youth. The chords of feeling respond to a greater variety of stimuli. The entire being becomes more highly sensitized, and sensitized at a greater number of points. Objects and situations that previously made little or no impression, now produce effects that are deep and lasting. Strong and enduring friendships are formed with persons of his own sex, and the charms and graces of the other sex begin to work their subtle and mystic effects in his soul. Admiration and respect for those who are older and wiser than himself, reverence and awe in the" presence of what he regards as holy, gratitude for kindnesses received from others, grief in the presence of sorrow, and sympathy with the victims of misfortune, all become pos- sible to a degree never before realized. Nature makes a new and stronger appeal. Youth is even more responsive than childhood to the colors and forms of natural objects, animate and inanimate; to the beauty of a sunset, or of a flower; to the majesty of a storm at sea or on land; to the charms of music and of poetry; and to the great truths that make up the body of religious doctrine. Many a youth has found within himself a new sense of unity and kinship with the world of nature, with the social and moral order, and with that which he con- ceives as the divine. He is fairly intoxicated with the beauty of many objects 78 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE in the material world. He may at times indulge a feeling of communion, and fancy that birds and flowers, wind and storm and sunshine, the stars, the sea, the trees, and the eve- ning shadows or the morning light, or even old mother earth herself, speaks to his soul as friend speaks with friend. To those of us who share Mr. Balfour's conviction of the essential spirituality of the world of beauty,^ the youth at such moments as these will appear as one who is not far from the kingdom of God. In respect of the feelings that gather about the moral life, taking their rise in the apprehension of moral principles, the judgment of moral values, and the i"deas of duty and moral integrity, the period under review presents some peculiar characteristics that make it of intense interest, and impart to it a specially marked educational significance. Here again we may compare the adolescent with the little child on the one hand, and the mature man on the other. In both these there is usually to be found a certain measure of materialism in motive, and moral feeling shapes itself ac- cordingly. The moral judgments of a little child are simple empirical judgments, based on the consequences of his acts, as he finds those acts to be followed by pains or pleasures of various kinds, either in the form of natural results (e.g., illness brought on by over-eating) or as results determined by the will of others (e.g., punishments or rewards given by parents). The moral judgment and the moral motive do not, in childhood, fully detach themselves from the hopes and fears that gather about the consequences of actions. In mature life, again, there are many circumstances that tend to infect one's moral judgments with the taint of utilitarian- ism. But in youth, if ever, the moral sentiments may be- come separated from every consideration of personal ad- vantage, and the individual may be a genuine Kantian in morals, yearning to yield himself without reserve to the 1 Balfour, Theism and Humanism (The Gifford Lectures, 1914), New York, 1915. THE CAPACITY TO FEEL 79 pure idea of duty, from which every vestige of self-interest has been purged away. This does not mean that youth is always and everywhere disinterested, but it does mean that in the heart of youth the love of goodness for its own sake may become a deep passion, capable of moving to noble deeds utterly regardless of personal gain or loss to the subject of the emotion. And the true end of moral educa- tion could not perhaps be better stated than in some formula that means the maintenance of this high and unselfish moral idealism unimpaired to the end of life. Of the feelings that gather about the religious life some- thing very similar may be said. If the essence of reli- gion consists in devotion to the service of God and ministra- tion to the needs of men, for the pure love of God and man, then religion may often be found in its purest form in the age which we are considering. For at no other time of life are we capable of more Intense devotion to any personality that appeals to us. Personality captivates and enthralls. Human personalities absorb attention and interest. Little children love, but adolescents fall in love, which Is a far more profound and soul-stirring experience. So, in a still deeper and loftier sense, the outstanding feature of the religion of youth is an intense love for the personality of the Saviour. The personal element predominates, and the feeling for personality Is In the ascendant. This Is of course also the case in the religion of childhood, though In a less profound degree; and one Is tempted to add that the most genuine and abiding elements in the religion of any age are to be found, not in the abstract propositions of its theological system, but In the depth and durability of its devotion to the person of its God. The formulation of these theological propositions is bound to come sooner or later, for religion must and should make its appeal to the Intellect, as well as to the affections; but they provide the light rather than the heat, the guidance rather than the dynamic, of the religious life. Young men and women near- 8o THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE ing the threshold of maturity will be found giving some attention to the reasoned construction of the faith that is in them, but in childhood and early youth the element of personal attachment to a personal Redeemer is the cardinal feature of religious experience. It should be borne in mind in the next place, that the emotional experiences of adolescence, though intense and profound at times, are deficient in steadiness and consistency. This is not at all to be wondered at. For the deeper capaci- ties, both of thought and feeling, have now been let loose, but they have not yet been brought into that relation to each other that means control and consistency. The early part of the adolescent period especially is lacking in balance and stability. Moods and whims dominate to a marked degree. The canvas of life is painted, now in the most brilliant colors, now in the gloomiest shades. All sorts of extremes in feeling are experienced. At one time the " joy of merely being alive " is so great as to be fairly intoxicating; at an- other, life seems to hold out no prizes worth striving for, and everything in the view is stale, flat and unprofitable. At no other time in life do we draw more roseate pictures, or lay plans more enthusiastically for the future; nor, on the other hand, is there any time of life when unreasonable fits of gloom and despondency are more likely to mar the joys of living for the time being. Eager, ecstatic enjoyment of life is characteristic of youth, and yet there are very many suicides of persons between the ages of twelve and twenty. And there are all degrees of fluctuation between these two extremes of joyousness and gloom. The majority, probably, do not approach either extreme very closely; but there are few who do not, at this time of life, have some experience of these fluctuations of feeling, which are the outward sign that the rational will has not yet attained com- plete control of the feelings. Those feelings that are more directly connected with the consciousness of the self show very clearly this lack of balance and control. The feeling of personal pride and THE CAPACITY TO FEEL 8i pelf-complacency may assume a most pronounced form; but it may alternate with moods of profound self-distrust, and even self-loathing. Successes, in sport, in study, in music, in literary composition, or in any sort of mechanical work requiring an inventive mind and a steady hand, bring ex- travagant elation; while failure is apt to produce just as extravagant depression and gloom. This is more especially true of those forms of emotion that become developed now for the first time, as distinct from those which have been in play from childhood. It does not apply in the same degree to the feeling of fear, or anger, or wonder, since these are to be found from the earliest years; but it is particularly noticeable in the case of all those feelings that are rooted in the idea of the self and the relation of the self to other selves, involving esti- mates of personal worth and conceptions of moral value. Over and above those differences that obtain between dif- ferent persons, one and the same individual may be very bold, aggressive, and self-confident at one time, and ex- tremely timid and diffident at another. And both arise from the same general cause, namely, the inability to rate himself at his real value. So the estimate is too high to- day and too low to-morrow. Rapid physical growth helps to exaggerate both these inaccuracies of self-evaluation. For on the one hand it brings with it the consciousness of power, and so inspires self-confidence; while on the other It means some proportional loss of control for the time being; especially as the growth Is not altogether symmetrical, but some parts and organs forge ahead of others. The limbs grow faster in length than in circumference. Bones grow more rapidly than muscles. The heart grows more rapidly than the arteries. The result is an abounding feeling of vigor and power, together with an overpowering sense of awkwardness and gaucherle; and sometimes the one, and sometimes the other, is In the ascendancy. The youth is quite capable of thrusting himself forward, taking the initia- tive, and showing the aggressive spirit to a degree that is 82 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE astonishing; and yet he is far more awkward, retiring, and self-distrustful, than either the little child or the grown man. Control of the impulses by the understanding will by degrees bring to him stability and consistency of action; but in the meantime he is like an unbroken colt, with all a colt's buoyancy of spirits, awkwardness of carriage, and uncertainty of movements. If we take account also of the rising social and sex con- sciousness, we shall understand still better the forwardness and the backwardness of youth. With the growth of this consciousness there come into existence powerful impulses to self-assertion, and equally powerful deterrents thereto. Interest in his own personality, as well as in that of others, leads to new forms of aggressiveness, and new outcroppings of sensitiveness, to which, as a little child, he was almost a total stranger. He feels more keenly now what others think of him. Ridicule wounds him deeply. He has a hor- )ror of making himself absurd, and may betray almost a I morbid fear of making blunders, in speech or action, or of I committing any impropriety that would lower him in the ' opinion of others. CHAPTER VII INTELLECT, OR THE CAPACITY TO THINK Bearing always in mind the fact, emphasized in an earlier chapter, that the thinking capacity, or the power to know, is never found absolutely alone, but always associated with elements of feeling and of volition; that while it is possible to a certain extent to isolate one or other of these mental functions for purposes of study and analysis, they are al- ways more or less co-implicated in actual experience ; it shall be our task in this chapter to look more especially at the intellectual or cognitive aspect of the mental life, to study its leading features, to take into account its development through the whole period of growth, but especially during adolescent life, and to pay some attention to the morbid forms which it may assume, especially during that period. Reference has already been made to the primacy of the intellect, or the reason, in human life. Man was intended to exercise dominion over the forces of nature about him and over those subtler forces within; and this dominion is administered through ideas. The significance of this for the teacher is very great. All teaching, and all preaching, however earnestly and however laudably it may direct its appeal to the feelings or the will, must do so, not directly, but only through the presentation of ideas to the mind. And when the feelings or the will have been reached and aroused to activity, that activity must still remain under the control of ideas, for otherwise the inner life will become a mere psychical chaos. And this is nowhere more evident than in the spheres of morals and religion, in which the education of the individual reaches its true end and its most perfect realization. If morality is not under the control 83 84 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE of Intelligence, it becomes merely the random functioning of unregulated instincts, with no clearly conceived end in view, (which is equivalent to saying that it is not morality at all) and if a man's religion is not permitted to become thought- ful and reflective, then, in the words of Edward Caird, that man " will inevitably turn his creed into a dead formula and his worship into a superstition." ^ Intellect is the organ of cognition. Intellectual opera- tions, or the activities of thought, result in knowledge. The function of thought is the progressive ordering, correlation, and interpretation of the manifold and ever-changing im- pressions that arise in consciousness, their reduction under the categories of the understanding, and the apprehension of their meaning in reference to objective reality. The pro- gress of an individual mind towards maturity consists partly in a steady increase in the fulness, richness, and variety of the stream of mental contents itself, and partly in a steady advance towards more perfect control, more complete cor- relation, and more adequate interpretation, of these sub- jective processes in reference to truth and reality. In infancy, while the variety of mental contents is not great, the correlation of those mental contents is imper- fect and the interpretation of their meaning extremely in- adequate. Such relations as those of space and time, in connexion with the perception of things, are often grossly under-estimated or over-estimated. Size, weight, and other properties of objects, are erroneously judged, through lack of that experience which gives standards of measurement. Ideas and images come and pass away, each holding the child's attention while it is present in consciousness, but likely to be forgotten as soon as it has passed beyond the region of actual sensation. One mental process has but small con- nexion with another, and the conception of a totality and a unity into which all the ideas enter as constituent members, has not yet attained to clearness. The transition from in- fancy to maturity seems to consist, on the intellectual side, 1 Caird, Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philosophers, Vol. I, p. 7. THE CAPACITY TO THINK 85 In progress from an unorganized and unlntegrated medley of Impressions and Images, to an organized and Integrated sys- tem or totality; In short, a world, cognized as a significant unity. It is precisely In the adolescent period that some of the longest strides are taken in this process of the organization and consolidation of ideas. In the preceding years, those of boyhood and girlhood, or from eight to twelve, genuine progress Is made In this direction, and many of the most serviceable concepts are built up in the mind, and become a permanent possession. But they are constructed on com- paratively narrow lines. They are true enough so far as they go, but they do not go very far. They are local In their character and restricted In their range. They have reference, for the most part, to the common objects of every- day sensuous experience, to the things that come In the way of a boy or girl In the ordinary course of home and school life. But in the period of adolescence there Is a marked ex- pansion In the range of the individual's conceptions, as well as in their quality. The imagination, which hitherto has played Its part largely within the circumference of the most familiar sense-experiences, now spreads Its wings for more ambitious flights, and essays the construction of things that eye hath not seen nor ear heard. But as all the processes of representation and thought are dependent upon the func- tioning of the senses, let us begin with these, as the logical starting point in our account of the intellectual life. The earlier years of life "are notoriously the years of the reign of the senses. Childhood revels In the sensuous as- pects of the world; and youth Is scarcely one whit behind childhood in this respect. The sense world exerts, in fact, a deeper and more mystic spell. New emotions gather about the objects of the external world. New qualities are attributed to those objects. New functions are ascribed to them. New uses are discovered for them. Myths and fancies gather about them, and a new beauty Is seen In them. The young adolescent often finds in these Inanimate things 86 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE a sort of companionship, which may become of absorbing interest. The soul of youth and the world of nature seem as though they were made for one another; and fortunate is the boy or the girl in whose life there is abundant oppor- tunity for this intercommunion. The soul of the child hungers for the sights and sounds of nature as his physical system hungers for food; and in the period of adolescence that soul-hunger is in some ways still more intense. The very senses themselves are more acute in many respects. It is believed that the adolescent discerns colors, and shades of color, better than the child. It is maintained that the power to see all the colors in the chromatic series is not com- pletely attained before puberty as a rule. At all events the power of color discrimination goes on increasing through the earlier adolescent period. But the main point is that color makes a deeper impression on the mind at this period than ever before. Ideas and emotions are in more fundamental and vital relation, and hence sensuous impressions that move a little child in a lively but superficial and transient way, make deep and abiding impressions on the mind of the youth. Meanings are discerned in these sensuous experiences which Jwere not dreamed of before. The space qualities of bodies are now more accurately estimated than before. Practical tests have shown that boys and girls from the age of puberty onward make rapid improvement in the power to estimate the size of an object, its distance from the observer, or the distance of two ob- jects apart, and in all other visual estimates; while the " extensive threshold," or the ability to receive and hold a number of simultaneous impressions, is much increased. What is true of the sense of sight is also true of hearing, as well as of the other senses. Heightened sensibility ob- tains everywhere; not so much on account of any merely physical superiority belonging to the sense organs, as on ac- count of an augmented power of giving attention to sense stimuli, and so increasing their effectiveness; this power being, in turn, the product, in part at least, of a deepened THE CAPACITY TO THINK 87 interest in all the objects of the sense world. So by the medium of the ear, as by that of the eye, the world of nature and art makes a more powerful appeal, and elicits a more complex and comprehensive response. Finer distinctions are made in tone, accent and inflection; and there is a much better appreciation of totals and aggregates, in which the relations of a number of sounds to one another, either simul- taneous or successive, constitute the chief feature. The sense of touch takes on a new keenness and delicacy. With the advent of that heightened consciousness of the self which is one of the marks of puberty it is but natural that we should find a greater delicacy of dermal sensibility. The skin, the organ of the touch sense, being spread over the entire body, exposes the inner ego, as it were, to a very wide range of impressions from without. Touch, more- over. Is in some respects a fundamental sense, a sort of final touchstone, to which the sensations of the other senses are brought, in case there is any doubt of the truthfulness of their reports. In the last resort touching is believing. Even the perceptions of sight, in doubtful cases, are corro- borated or discredited by an appeal to touch, where such appeal is possible. Augmented sensitiveness is seen very plainly in all that has to do with the dermal consciousness. It is not unlikely that the impress of the clothing on all parts of the body, the breezes that blow on the exposed portions, and the con- tact of all sorts of objects with the skin, are perceived now with a specially fine discrimination. Warts, pimples, sores on the skin, and the roughness caused by chapped hands in cold weather, are specially annoying, as is also the contact of rough surfaces, such as a rusty stove pipe, with the palms of the hands. Similarly with such objects .as grease, soap, or decayed vegetable matter, the touch of which is, in some cases, well-nigh intolerable. There are some young per- sons who have a strong aversion to hand shaking, or to handling any tool, say a knife, that is still warm from con- tact with the hand of another person. 88 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE The sense of taste shows some new characteristics and some striking features of development. In common with the other senses, it comes more under the dominance of the mental powers, and is more modified by emotional states, than previously. Many changes occur in the likes and dis- likes of individuals. Things not previously desired are now sought for; while many things liked in childhood are dis- liked in adolescence. In general it may be said that foods of a stronger character, or of more pungent, acid, or salty tastes, are desired. Foods more highly spiced, more sweet foods, more acid foods, more hot flavors, are found to be agreeable. Gum chewing is prevalent. And the adoles- cent does what the little child rarely ever does of his own accord; he seeks to alter his tastes, to create in himself a liking for something not previously liked, or to break up and destroy the taste for some specific thing. He may be led to this by the example of others, or by some new con- ception as to his personal well-being, picked up through his reading, or through contact with other persons. What has been said of the sense of taste may be said, in effect, of the sense of smell. This sense becomes greatly developed at puberty, especially in the female. There is a new appreciation of odors not noticed before. The threshold is lowered, and the just observable difference in odors is very small, which means that the discriminative sensibility is very great. At the same time new dislikes may appear. More pleasure is experienced from agreeable odors, and more pain from disagreeable ones. This is in contrast with little children, who are comparatively indiffer- ent to the character of the odors inhaled. Youth is the age above all others when perfumes are most lavishly em- ployed in the toilet; in which the smell of food, of flowers, and of other objects, makes the deepest impression, and when these sensations are most closely associated with ideas and ideals. The increase in general sensitiveness in the teens seems to extend to all the senses, including that of temperature. The THE CAPACITY TO THINK 89 boy of fifteen is more sensitive to heat and cold than the boy of ten or eleven, and this is even more true of the girl. The other phase of the matter is that sense-processes and the responses thereto on the motor side, come into active functional connexion at higher psychic levels. In child- hood the impressions that fall upon the sensory issue in movements on the sensori-motor reflex plane, of which the sudden closing of the eye when a particle of dust strikes the lashes may be taken as a type. The active functioning of intelligence in the interpretation of the impression, and in the deliberate adjustment of the reaction thereto, is at a minimum; the process completes itself by virtue of native instincts or reactions that are habitual. But with the com- ing on of the larger life of adolescence, with its more vigor- ous mentality, these sense-impressions are more likely to be weighed and considered, and the responses to them adjusted and ordered with greater deliberation. So the entire sys- tem of the senses, and the processes connected with them, become more vitally knit in with the totality of the mental life, and the responses that are made to the impressions from the outer world express the fuller integrity of the whole soul. The most noticeable features in the growth of the mem- ory power, as childhood passes into youth, are first, the rapid multiplication of memories, and second, the develop- ment of the power to unify memories into a system, and to hold in the mind, not only single memory images, but the connexions and relations of these images with one another. The first of these characteristics is due to the rapid expan- sion of interests that now takes place; so that attention is given to a greater variety of things than in childhood. So, as more things are attended to, more things are remembered. The second of these characteristics is of the utmost im- portance as a symptom of the growth of the mental powers and faculties toward their adult form. Its consideration takes us beyond memory proper, into the activities of general conception and judgment; but meantime we may remark that 90 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE memory combinations and associations are developed in great abundance and variety from the twelfth year, boys having rather better memories than girls for relations and connexions of impressions, while girls as a rule possess better memories for isolated impressions. While fully recognizing the wonderful vivacity of the im- agination in every period of life up to maturity, and, indeed, beyond that point, it would be safe to say that at no other time in the whole life does it show such buoyancy and such virility, as in the period of adolescence. Almost every sort of material is utilized in its constructions, and those con- structions bear the impress of a more comprehensive and ambitious outlook. Realms that were unknown and un- dreamed of by the little child are now explored, surveyed, and mapped out, though to be sure in a very imperfect, and often highly eccentric fashion. And withal there is a glow and an intensity of human interest in the imagery of the adolescent, of which we find scarcely more than a faint fore- cast in the imagery of the child. But perhaps the most im- portant point is this, that in the period we are studying, the play of imagery comes under more definite intellectual con- trol. But this statement must at once be guarded by two reservations. In the first place we do not mean that the logical powers of the child are weaker relatively than his powers of imagination, though this, no doubt, is the case; but only that the imagery of the representative powers is as yet comparatively independent of the definite, conscious, shaping activity of the intellect. The logical power has not yet come into the full exercise of its prerogatives in so far as the direction and control of the work of image-build- ing is concerned. In the second place the more perfect in- tellectual control to which reference has been made, is not, as a rule, very fully realized in the earlier years of adoles- cence, but only towards the close of that period. For that very exuberance and fertility of the imagination, of which we have spoken, and which is so strongly marked in the years from twelve to fifteen or sixteen, somewhat hinders THE CAPACITY TO THINK 91 the exercise of the soberer functions of the logical faculty. The buoyant and virile imagination is apt to be impatient of the restraints of cool and calculating judgment. The rush of new imagery threatens to overwhelm the cognitive powers, and to mock at the petty barriers which they would try to set up. So that it might seem as though intellectual control of the stream of images is even less complete here than in childhood. But if this is the case, it is a temporary and transient condition that is preparatory to the more per- fect control of a later time. It is as though the materials for cognitive activity have accumulated so rapidly as to tax severely the powers of the mind that are responsible for their ordering, shaping, and interpretation. Observation reveals, however, from about the sixteenth year to maturity, a steady increase in the control of im- agery, as well as in the control of feeling and appetite, by the higher rational powers. The imagination now begins to do its work within more settled and regular boundaries. The vagaries and extravagances of fancy and day-dreaming become somewhat less pronounced, not so much through repression, as through direction; and so the imagery becomes, not less rich and varied, but only more rational and intelligible, and more conformed to what is within the boundaries of possible experience. Many castles are still built in Spain, but at least they are a little less remote, in their style of architecture, and In their situation, from those structures that are to be found along the thoroughfares where real men and women pass to and fro. One of the principal causes of this progressive rationalizing of the imagery of youth, as he moves toward maturity, lies in the fact that his mind now begins to turn towards the larger concerns of life. The birth of the social conscious- ness means a vast expansion of the mental outlook. As a child he was largely occupied with the concerns of the day and the hour. The future mea:nt but little to him, though he often talked of what he would be when he should be- come a man. But the phrase " when I am a man " was ex- 92 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE tremely vague in meaning. He was absorbed in the occu- pations and interests of the moment. So also, as his mental reach did not go very far into the future, neither did it ex- tend very far out on this side or on that. The relatively narrow circle of the home and the school practically ex- hausted its area. But now, as a youth, with the new forces and powers being born within him, forces and powers that have their ultimate significance in relation to the race of which he is a member, he begins to think of the whole length of the life that is before him, and of the social whole in which, as he now begins to realize, he is an integral part. He plans for the whole of that life (though his plans are often quixotic) and no longer merely for himself, but also for others, with whose interests his own are seen td be in- volved. Life opens up before him as a thing of inexhaust- ible interest and worth. The small child is hardly able to form any clear conception of life as a whole. The present hour is very real, but the future is not very vividly con- ceived or imagined. In youth, on the contrary, the mind is able to form an idea of life as a totality, though of course it is even now a vague whole that awaits further specific filling out through the growth of the mental powers and the extension of experience. And in the conception of that whole the idea of purpose or meaning comes to the front and occupies an increasingly prominent place. Life seems full of opportunities. Achievement beckons; difficulties are ignored, or appear non-existent; success is taken for granted. The essential thing about the mature mind, as distin- guished from the immature mind, is the power to grasp ideas in their relations to one another in a totality or system. This power, as exercised upon the facts and relations that make up the world of experience, gives us the scientific mind; as exercised in speculation upon the principles and pre-suppo- sitions, the significance and value, of these facts, in the light of ultimate categories, it gives us the philosophic mind. One of the first essentials in the unfolding of the mind that is to be either scientific or philosophical is, as Aristotle said, THE CAPACITY TO THINK 93 the consolidation of single perceptions into memories, and these into " experiences," as a preparation for that still wider consolidation which yields the idea of laws and prin- ciples which lie at the basis of science and of philosophy respectively. From about the twelfth year of life one may see, in boys and girls of normal development, a marked ad- vance in this power of synthesis in memory and judgment. The mind of the small boy, like his pocket, contains a good many things, but these things are in no very obvious order or system. They do not stand in any very clear relations with one another. They are a miscellaneous lot. But with the age of puberty, the augmented ability to grasp and hold in the mind, not only single things, but the connexions and relations of things, indicates an important stage in the de- velopment of the cognitive powers. The cognitive aspects of the mental life, or the strictly rational functions as distinguished from the directly sensu- ous, perceptive, and representative, are a matter of growth and of gradual attainment. The concepts of the little child are dominated by a few concrete interests. Things are con- ceived and defined on the basis of their actions or uses; what they do, and what they are for. But clearly there are many other bases for the construction of the concepts of things, besides these. Such more abstract relations as whole and part, cause and effect, genus and species, become the bases of concept making in the early teens. It has long been customary to employ the terms Concep- tion, Judgment and Reasoning, to indicate those processes of the cognitive life by which the " given " in perception is progressively interpreted by being gathered up under gen- eral notions, the ideal culmination of the process being the reduction of all the " manifold " contents of our knowledge to these universal notions or Ideas. These terms may still be used, and each of them stands for something real in the process of thought; but scientific study of the nature of this process has rendered necessary some modifications of the older views regarding their meaning and their relation to 94 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE one another. It is no longer regarded as true to the facts to look upon concepts, judgments and processes of inference as essentially different in kind, or as following one another in the order named; nor do they take place subsequently to perception, as though in perception the mind received a stock or store of " impressions," which, in conception, judg- ment and reasoning are rationalized or worked up into higher cognitive forms. The relation in which all these mental acts stand to one another is not a relation of tem- poral succession. Concepts are not formed " after " per- cepts, strictly speaking, nor are judgments " after " con- cepts. Perception is itself already judgment, and in the de- velopment of the structure of the concept, judgment has played its part as the essential dynamic factor. The very earliest and simplest stages of knowledge, as when an infant recognizes its mother's face and form among a multitude of other things, and against a background, say, of wall and ceiling, involves a sort of elementary analysis of the " given," and a discrimination of elements in this total, to- gether with an ascription of special meaning to one part of the total, which is essentially judgment. When he recog- nizes her in different attitudes, in different clothing, in vari- ous surroundings, he gives unmistakeable proof of his power to grasp the element that is identical throughout the altera- tions in the circumstances that are diverse and changeable; which means that he is already capable, in its more primitive forms, to be sure, of that cognitive act, which, in its higher forms, achieves the separation of the universal law from the particular instances of its operation. This act, which in its essential nature, is the same every- where, whether dealing with the simple data of sense or elaborating the most recondite propositions of science and philosophy, is judgment. And judgment, as so defined, is the one essential process in all knowledge, at least from the point of view of progress and development. The percept, as we have seen, requires it. For in any simple percept, as of a hat or a pencil, or even the simple " awareness " of THE CAPACITY TO THINK 95 the location of a pain in some part of the body, there is an analysis of the given, and a recognition of the connexion between certain of its elements. The pain, P, is in the part of the body P\ and not in the part P^. The concept presupposes it, for any such general notion as " food," for example, is a subject which has certain fixed predicates; and these predicates have become fixed in the subject (that is to say, certain characters have been built into the structure of the subject) by that selective attention, discrimination and predication, in which the act of judgment consists. It is hardly necessary, then, or even strictly justifiable, to dis- cuss these so-called forms or processes of logical thought or reasoning, separately from one another, especially in a work whose special object is not to provide a philosophy of the knowledge process, but only to give some account of the characteristics of the mind of youth. The growth of the cognitive faculty, or the progress ofl the mind on its intellectual side, might be most briefly de- 1 scribed as progress in the discernment of the relevant, or in | the ability to distinguish that which is relevant, in any given | case, from that which is irrelevant. Expansion of the men- 1 tal horizon carries with it perception of the coherence of the '■ parts of the mental field with one another. The immature mind holds contradictory notions and beliefs side by side, in serene unconsciousness of their incongruity. The cher- ished myths of the nursery contain numberless logical im- possibilities, but the inhabitants of the nursery are not troubled at all by that fact. Fancy is rampant, and logical discernment is not yet greatly developed, as one may con- vince himself by observation.^ As time goes on, and ex- periences multiply, the requirements of coherent thinking become recognized, contradictions are less tolerable, and the mind is able to distinguish that which does, from that which does not, dovetail in with the rest of one's notions. This 1 is only another way of saying that one's concepts are be-; coming corrected and made true by the operation of the j 1 See Queyrat, La logique de I'Enfant, Paris, 1902. 96 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE judgment function, and through the development of the reasoning power. The progress of the normal mind in this respect may be described, from another point of view, by saying that it demands the true, as distinguished from the ' merely pleasing, with increasing peremptoriness. As one approaches more and more closely to the adult ! stage, the instinct for truth, the thirst for knowledge, and the capacity to respond to the demands of logical system, are 1 noticeably strengthened; and it is fitting that greater de- mands in this direction should be made, both in the home I and in the school. In the earlier teen years, it is true, the I demand for consistency is aesthetic rather than logical, aris- ing from the heart more than from the head ; and it is with ' a keen sense of this that President Hall and others have * called for such a method, in the teaching of most subjects . in the earlier years of the High School period, as shall rec- ognise, and accommodate itself to, this tendency. It may be taken as established, I should think, that practically all subjects should be taught in such a way as to introduce the pupil first to the living, concrete, and human sides of the subject-matter, proceeding thence by degrees to the abstract and formal. In other words, we should teach all subjects as we have learned to teach our mother-tongue, viz., be- ginning with literature and composition, and proceeding through these to the abstract rules of grammar. Many forms of mental activity appear to reach a sort of culminating point in their development (apart from what may be accomplished by special training) about the age of fifteen or sixteen years. The curve of accuracy in judgments of quantity does not rise so rapidly, if at all, after this age has been passed. Estimates of the number, size, and dis- tance of objects, are greatly increased in exactness through the entire teen age, but especially about the middle of the period. Moreover, not only is the mind better able to judge the quantitative relations of objects and events within the more limited spatial and temporal dimensions, but a lively interest is awakened also in the vaster areas of space and THE CAPACITY TO THINK 97 the greater periods of time. The imagination revels in the tremendous distances of the heavenly bodies, their vast proportions, and their stupendous orbits; and quantitative comparisons are indulged in with much zest. The babe reaches out for the moon and the stars through incapacity to think in terms of distance ; the youth also reaches out for these heavenly bodies, not with his hands, but with his mind, through sheer joy of revelling in the immensities that stagger the imagination and baffle thought. The mind dwells with something like intoxication, on such calculations as how long it would take a cannon ball to reach one of the fixed stars, or how many pounds of wire would be re- quired to install a telephone line between the earth and Uranus. Many of the simpler and more familiar mathe- matical truths, moreover, now come before the mind with a startling newness and a peculiar fascination; such truths, for example, as that a geometrical straight line may be pro- duced to any length, and that the process of counting may go on ad infinitum, and yet the rules of number apply, no matter how large the numbers may be. The intellect is feeling its own powers, and, like the young bird trying its wings, flies out over the vast reaches of space and time with exhilaration and exultation. Questions are asked as to the age of the world, of the rocks and hills, what was " before the beginning," and what will be " after the end." These questions do not necessarily betoken any special fondness for the abstract formulae of mere measurement and calcula- tion; they are simply an expression of the youthful longing for freedom and expansion in the energies of the mind. Statements like these, however, might be quite misleading if made without some qualification. They describe some of the moods of the adolescent, and certain features of his in- tellectual development which mark his mind off from that of the child, but they are not intended as a description of his constant and habitual frame of mind. No one can as- sociate much with High School boys and girls, and with College Students, without being well aware diat they do not 98 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE spend their whole time by any means in " reaching out for the infinite " nor in " yearning for communion with the un- seen." Fortunately, a very large part of their attention is given to things that are emphatically finite, not to say trivial and commonplace; to jokes and horse play, to nagging and teasing one another, to reading the lightest sort of htera- turc, to outdoor sport, to animals and plants, and to candy and cake. Thus they are saved from intellectual precocity, from mens insana, and insanum corpus. But that they are capable of the more serious things, and of the deeper long- ings and aspiration, and that, as a matter of fact they do dwell, often and long, upon such things, is evidence of the direction in which their minds are unfolding. It is a pres- age of that wider linking up of mental associations, that consolidation of mental revenues, that belongs to the mature intellect. Much has been said and written of the scepticism and doubt that so often assail the minds and disturb the souls of young people at the age with which we are dealing. That there should be doubts and questionings at this age is not at all to be wondered at, for this is the time of life when the mental powers expand so rapidly as to break through the limitations of childhood. The dicta of external authority are no longer sufficient, for the intellect is entering into its birthright of independent judgment. What the child ac- cepts without question, and assimilates through memory, the youth desires to think out for himself, and make it his own (provided it commends itself to him) through his critical judgment and reflection. And if, in this process, he encounters problems and difficulties that stagger and un- settle him for the time being, this is simply a part of the price which he has to pay for the privilege of growing up. The only other alternative is to remain a child forever. At the same time much of his difficulty and mental unrest are due to a temporary loss of balance through the surging up of the emotional nature, as well as to the fact that the in- tellectual appetite grows faster than the means of intellec- THE CAPACITY TO THINK 99 tual digestion. Ideas too big for easy and immediate as- similation thrust themselves into consciousness. To change the figure, it is as though a boy who has not yet learned to swim finds himself suddenly thrown into water that is be- yond his depth. It does not follow that he must drown. The doubt and scepticism of healthy youth are very rarely of that sad type, frequently met with in later life, in which nescience is accepted as the mind's final resting place. The spirit of youth does not find mere negations congenial to its temperament. Its doubt, therefore, is not, like the doubt of the ancient Sceptics, an end in itself. Rather it is un- consciously what the Cartesian doubt was consciously, a means to certainty and truth. It would be a fortunate circumstance if one were able to say that the intellectual life of youth is beset by no worse evils than sundry doubts and difficulties, more or less tran- sient in their nature. But this is not the case. Sometimes the mind is not merely disturbed, but thrown completely out of balance for the time being. Not only is it beset by diffi- culties, but obsessed by delusions and hallucinations. In- sanity is common in the period. Some writers claim that there is a pronounced increase in the number of cases of mental disorder during these years; while others point out that in many cases mental weakness is really latent in in- fancy, and becomes manifest only under the increased pres- sure of the adolescent age. The principal causes of mental aberration at this age have already been suggested in other connexions. The psycho- physical forces, feeling, and thought and will develop rapidly now, but not necessarily in strict proportion. Life becomes very intense, but with some loss of control. Feeling is powerful but eccentric. Convictions are strong but not always well reasoned. Moods are pronounced and yet ■fickle and changing. All this means loss of balance in some form; and loss of balance is insanity. Almost every marked tendency of adolescence, as dis- cussed in previous chapters, and to be discussed in later ones, loo THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE may become so exaggerated as to be in reality a form of mental unsoundness. /The well-known moodiness of young men and women, which makes them pass from extreme de- pression and melancholy to extreme hilariousness, and back again, has its roots, no doubt, in the emotional unsteadiness of the period. Self-consciousness becomes acute, self- scrutiny and introspection may develop into fixed habits that are too strong to be overcome. When this is the case, all sorts of morbid conditions may result, including melancholia, hysteria, religious " crazes," and hallucinations. Moral earnestness and sincerity sometimes go to seed in a hyper- critical self-examination that is continually fingering its own motives and condemning every action because no motive proves to be absolutely free from alloy. When this con- dition is reached the subject of it can no longer be regarded as perfectly sane. '' The hopefulness of the situation, however, lies in the fact that these persons are young. In a vast majority of cases the loss of balance is purely temporary, and under proper treatment will soon correct itself. Simple and rational regimen, out-of-door life, and an environment that beckons the mind away from itself, are the chief factors in the re- covery of the mental poise that has been lost, as well as in the prevention that is so much better than cure. CHAPTER VIII WILL, OR THE CAPACITY TO ACT In the stricter and narrower sense will means only that activity which is under the complete control and direction of the rational powers. It is the faculty of deliberate and ideational action, wherein the end of the action is foreseen and intended, the agent identifying himself with that end, and putting forth his active powers to realize it. In the wider and less accurate sense, will may be defined as includ- ing the entire life of expression, or the sum-total of the out- going tendencies, including all impulses, instincts and reflexes, in so far as they issue, or tend to issue, in movements of the muscles, direction of the intellectual life, or control of the feelings. No satisfactory account of will in the former of these two senses can be given by itself alone. For the activity of will, as deliberate and reasoned action, has its roots and the conditions of its possibility in all those unreasoned elements of the total psychic life which are included in the latter use of the term. The psychology of the will, therefore, is a broad term, and should include a full account of all the psychic and neural conditions (many of them deeply em- bedded in the subconscious or the unconscious life) upon which will in the stricter sense depends for its raw materials as well as for the native forces which it has to control, direct, and co-ordinate, in harmony with the ideas of reason and in pursuance of its ends. In earlier chapters we have spoken of the most important of these primary psychic and neural factors ; we should now endeavor to point out their relation to the full-blown activity of will, and the part they play in providing the conditions of its development. I02 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE To begin with; everyone is familiar with the fact that the physical organism is provided with a vast number of nerve fibres or threads, by which the organs of sense are con- nected with the brain cells, and these latter with one an- other and with the muscles. The distinctive property of these nerve fibres is conductivity; that is to say, their func- tion is to transmit impressions throughout their entire length. They are divided into two classes, according as they transmit impressions inward, from the organs of sense to the brain, or outward, from the brain to the muscles. A third class may be added, of those nerves by which the parts of the brain are connected with one another. These latter are known as association fibres, while those that con- vey impressions inward are called the sensory nerves, and those that convey impressions outward to the muscles, are known as motor nerves, since the normal result of their action is muscular contraction of some sort. Both the sen- sory and the motor nerves are connected with the brain by way of the spinal cord. The system thus roughly de- scribed is named the cerebro-spinal system. It is the in- dispensable physical medium for all our intellectual and volitional processes. Without it, so far as we can see, no sensations of sight, hearing, or any of the other senses, could ever be received in consciousness, nor could any re- sponse be made to them if they were received. There is a second system of nerves, less thoroughly un- derstood, lying in the depths of the physical organism, and connecting the various vital organs, and their parts, with one another. This is called the sympathetic system. It is the medium of no knowledge concerning the outer world, as the cerebro-spinal system is, but it reflects the general condition of the vital organs themselves. The action of these nerves is the physical basis of the vaguer emotional states; and they are closely connected with those fluctuations in our moods and tempers which we designate by such terms as low-spiritedness, irritability, and their opposltes. Many of those fluctuations in one's spirits, which seem to come THE CAPACITY TO ACT 103 from no cause, and of which it is often so difficult to give any explanation, are due to some slight alteration, for the better or the worse, in the general condition of some of the vital organs; in consequence of which the individual be- comes aware of an alteration in his mental tone, in the way of depression or exaltation. The neural basis and condi- tion of this is the sympathetic system. The importance of the will, understood as the total re- action of the individual to the forces that play upon him from the environment, and to the influences that come from his instinctive and impulsive tendencies within, is recog- nized with special fulness by the psychology of our day. It is perceived that the intellect by itself would forever re- main inert and sterile apart from the will; or rather, that the energy and fertility of the intellect is due to the fact that in its operations, as they result in knowledge, the essen- tial thing is the active work of the mind, through which it subdues to itself the scattered data of sense, reducing them to the unity ol its own apperceptive synthesis; and this is essentially an activity of will. In the act of cognition will is Involved. Judgment, the essential form of all knowledge activity, always embodies a focus and a synthesis. In any judgment, A is B, the subject A represents the point where the cognitive act focuses, while the predicate B represents some idea which Is united with A in the judgment act. The judgment, then, is essentially an act. So with all the proces- ses of the mind. They all alike represent, each In its own way, the activity of the mind, and this activity is will. The win is not an entity or a faculty standing by itself, and co-ordinate with the other faculties of the mind, as we have already pointed out, but one of the essential features or characteristics of the totality of the life of mind. Every form of mental experience tends to be expressive, to focus and utter Itself in some sort of response or reaction. The form which this response or reaction takes habitually and commonly, is the best index to the character of the man. A man is his total reaction to the conditions of his life. He I04 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE may be judged by the manner in which he adjusts himself, or fails to adjust himself, to his environment, and by the manner in which he adjusts that environment, or fails to ad- just it, to himself. Some recent writers have even gone to the length of saying that the test of truth itself lies in the possibility of its being applied or worked out in the actual conditions of life. This position may be accepted if the phrase " being applied " be taken in a sufficiently broad sense. To put a proposition to the test by seeking to de- termine whether it can enter into the totality of my judg- ments without destroying the harmony and integrity of the whole system of judgments, is to " apply " that propo- sition. For the process by which the test is made is a process of will as really as it is a process of intellect. And if the fact is once recognised that the will-element permeates the entire life, including the cognitive, it is difficult to see how anything new has been added to the conception of the essential nature of mind by the Pragmatist doctrine. A cardinal feature of the unfolding of the psychic life on its conative or expressive side is the gradual progress towards complete government of the behavior by ideas rather than by the force of feeling, by ends and purposes instead of driving impulses and animal instincts, by reasons rather than by causes. It has long been a maxim of philo- sophy and a fundamental principle of education that the higher type of mind life is that in which reason governs and feelings obey; in which the harmony and sanity of the entire psycho-physical organism is preserved and furthered by the vigorous activity of intelligence. The opposite type, that in which every passing feeling, if it happens to be suffi- ciently strong, sways and determines, for the time being at least, the person's behavior, is everywhere regarded as a lower and less desirable tj^e. Many reasons have been given for this preference for the mind that is controlled by ideas, over that controlled by feeling; chief among which are these : that feeling and impulse are blind, not seeing afar off ; that they are incapable of any real appreciation of rela- THE CAPACITY TO ACT 105 tive values; that they are fitful, giving no guarantee of any such sobriety and stability as are required, if the personality is to make the most of himself in a world which is the em- bodiment of order, regularity, and law; and that, as a mat- ter of fact and history, passion uncontrolled by rational in- sight is almost certain to lead its subject into courses of conduct that are detrimental to his whole being. In close relation to this general view, we find first of all on the physiological level, that the whole process that ends with the contraction of a muscle may occur on more than one plane. The transition from the ingoing to the out- going process, from the stimulation of an afferent to the stimulation of an efferent nerve, may be mediated through the lower and less complex centers, or through the higher and more complex centers. In the former case the entire process runs itself off smoothly and easily, by the most di- rect route, as it were; in the latter case there are sundry checks, the counteraction of other currents, and a certain amount of delay in the completion of the process. Fur- ther, on the psychological level, where mental processes are involved, there are again different planes on which the process may complete itself. Corresponding to the lower and less complex neural and muscular process we have the lower and less complex psychical process, in which impres- sions, ideas, feelings, and the like, issue directly in action, with a minimum of check or control from the higher ra- tional self. Corresponding to the higher and more com- plex neural and muscular process we have the higher and more complex psychical process, in which impressions, feel- ings and the like are not permitted to issue directly in ac- tion, but are held up, as it were, checked by other impres- sions, and by conceptions and purposes, and swung into this or that channel and permitted egress through this or that volitional outlet, according to the verdict that has been reached, after deliberation, as to their worthiness so to issue. In other words, the higher form of behavior is marked by control, reflection, and the appraisement of ends io6 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE and purposes, and of proposed actions in relation to those ends. This latter type of behavior is called ideational, or vohtional in the strict and proper sense, and as distinguished from the reflex or merely instinctive. The important point in reference to this checking of im- pulses by the higher reason does not lie in the fact that the check is apt to delay the movement and compel it to proceed more slowly. The question of the duration of the movement is neither here nor there. Some reflex move- ments may be slow and some ideational movements may be swift. Indeed, it is one of the marks of a well trained will that decisions are reached swiftly, and issue in their appro- priate movements promptly. One of the forms of the de- fective will, is, as Professor James has pointed out, the ob- structed will. The over-hesitant mind, in which the " native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought " so that action is unduly postponed, cannot but be regarded as abnormal. The essential thing in a healthy mind is control and direction. It is well that such control and direction should be as swift as the occasion may require, but it is the control itself, apart from its speed, that marks the mind of the higher type. Now if we study the mental life on its outgoing or voli- tional side, as it develops from infancy to maturity, we shall observe progressive achievement in the rational control of movements. The acts of an infant are the direct and un- medlated response of the physical or the psycho-physical organism to the impressions and feelings that arise within it or are produced by contact with its environment. The movements of a well-disciplined adult are directed and con- trolled by conceptions and purposes. This does not mean that all the movements of the adult are thus directed (for among those movements there are many that have become habitual and so secondarily automatic, as well as many that are impulsive and instinctive) but that the mature mind has acquired the power and the habit of acting under the guidance of conceptions and purposes. Between the move- THE CAPACITY TO ACT 107 ments of an infant, with a minimum of control by ideas, and those of a well-disciplined adult, with a maximum of such control, there are of course, all conceivable intermediate de- grees. It is characteristic of childhood in general to be deficient in volitional control, but the process of establish- ing that control begins very early, as early as the first ex- perience of the checking of one impulse by another, or of the clash of two ideas in their motor tendencies. But it is notoriously true of children that they act directly upon the feeling or idea of the moment. Every mental content tends to issue, without let or hindrance, along the channels of motor expression. The sensori-motor reflex process com- pletes itself without interference from within. Through experience of the pleasurable or painful results of these movements, and through instruction, training, and discipline, a measure of control is soon established, which develops steadily through the first dozen years of life. I have not observed any very pronounced periodicity during these years, in the average child, in regard to this particular fea- ture of growth, except in so far as any marked accelera- tion of bodily growth seems to be accompanied by a rela- tive loss of control, not because the actual power of control is less, but because the forces that have to be controlled are greater. But these accelerations of growth are not apt to be sufficiently marked, in this period, to in- terfere seriously with the balance of power in the organ- ism. On the other hand, periods of slow growth are periods favorable for the formation of habits, and educators gen- erally recognize the desirability of training the will, espe- cially in the years from eight to twelve, in such a way as to form a large number of useful habits. With the coming of puberty however, the changes are so marked and the growth so rapid for a time, as to disturb this quiet equihbrium of the inner Hfe. FeeUngs, impulses, in- stinctive tendencies, desires and appetites, exert themselves with new power; and the problem of control becomes for a time more difficult. We have pointed out in an earher chap- io8 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE ter that adolescence is the age of moods, whims, fancies and fluctuations of feeling that seem almost inexplicable, or for which, at all events, there is no ready and obvious explana- tion. Now these changing feelings and moods exert a powerful influence on conduct; so that the adolescent is ad- mitted to be the most unstable of beings. Attention has been called by many observers to his fitfulness, and to the unpredictable character of his behavior. He may be vacil- lating to a marked degree. His interests wax and wane according to the conditions of his physical being, and his activities follow his interests. Hence he may be very life- less and dull at one time and overflowing with energy and enthusiasm at another. There is probably no other human being who can be, upon occasion, so utterly lazy and " shift- less " as an adolescent boy, unless it be an adolescent girl. And there is probably no other human being who, if the mood takes him, can throw himself with such prodigious energy and vim, into any undertaking upon which he sets his heart. As there are times when the adolescent seems to have no vigor or life about him, and the least exertion is irksome, so there are other times when quiescence is an intol- erable burden. Everything must be done at once, and done at high pressure. At such times his energy is amazing, and the amount of work which he will perform almost incred- ible. Games, especially those in which rival teams contend for the mastery, are played with absolute abandon and furore. Long walks, long rides, long excursions by boat or canoe, hill climbing expeditions, snow-shoeing trips in the face of freezing winds and fierce storms, are undertaken and carried out with a zest and a vim that testify to some great need of the inner nature that is being met and satisfied in these exertions. Exposure to wet, cold, heat and storm, is thoroughly enjoyed, especially by boys; and every mother knows how these boys come home from such trips and labors with appetites that sweep everything before them. It is quite true that the psychological law of interest goes far towards accounting for these things. It is quite true. THE CAPACITY TO ACT 109 not only of the adolescent, but of persons of any and every age, that eager, enthusiastic activity is dependent on interest, and does not take place without it. Where interest in any course of action is completely lacking, it is impossible for any of us to throw himself enthusiastically into that course of action. And this is as true, more true, if possible, in the teens, than at any other period of life. And yet it does not appear to account for the whole of the facts. For the transition from activity to lassitude often takes place too quickly, it would seem, to admit of explanation by the dying out of interest; and the change from lassitude to ac- tivity often seems to take place without any obvious cause for a sudden revival of interest. The full explanation re- quires that we recognize the currents of feeling and im- pulse that are making themselves felt below the threshold. These currents have increased in volume and power more rapidly than the forces by which they are regulated and con- trolled. This is more noticeable in the earlier period of adolescence, when feeling outruns reason, than in the later period, when reason is rapidly overtaking feeling. It is an instructive study to place side by side, for examin- ation and comparison, the child, the boy of nine to twelve, the boy of thirteen to sixteen, and the youth of seventeen to twenty. From the standpoint of the growth of will, they may be described as follows: in the child you find instincts and impulses operating with a minimum of internal check or control, and with only such external control as is able to set up a counter current to the operating impulse. This external factor exerts its power by offering something that appeals to the instinct of imitation, or gratifies some de- sire, or uses the instrumentality of pain by way of deterrent. Through repetition and association, habits of action begin to form, and in the next period (nine to twelve) this is perhaps the outstanding fact, from the point of view of will- growth. The area of ideation is of course becoming much enlarged, and whole new orders of ideas are coming into active relation to the motor equipment. It is also true that no THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE progress is made in the direction of independence and automony of will. But after all, the consolidation of the motor mechanism in the way of habit-formation is the most conspicuous feature of the period. In the adolescent period, while habit-forming continues, along with practically all the other characteristics of the previous periods, the transference of control from without to within undergoes a marked acceleration. And yet this control is by no means securely achieved in the first half of this period (thirteen to sixteen). As we have said, equilib- rium is unstable. Feeling is prone to be tumultuous and riotous. Quiet, painstaking thought is not easy. There is much capriciousness of moods and fancies. As Sir W. Robertson Nicoll remarks, " at fourteen the insurgent years begin." ^ The young adolescent scarcely has himself well in hand. In the latter half of the period (seventeen to twenty) most young people give distinct evidence that the motor machinery is becoming more regulated, and is under more effectual government. Thought is beginning to over- take feeling. Action is less frequently the outcome of im- pulse, and more frequently the outcome of deliberation. The higher centers of ideation are involved in the responses of the individual to the impressions that come into his con- sciousness. Impression issues in expression, neither so di- rectly on the sensori-motor reflex level, as in the child, nor so largely in the way of habitual reaction, as in the boy, nor as the direct result of feeling, as in the adolescent of the early period. Action from motives, in the strict sense of that term, takes place more commonly than at any previous time in the life. And with the full attainment of this con- dition all the elements that enter into the character of ma- turity are already present. The difference between maturity and immaturity is a difference of degree. In no normal child is the element of inner control entirely wanting; and in no adult is that control absolutely constant, reliable, and complete. But all through the teens there is going on a 1 Nicoll, The Children for the Church, London, 1913, p. 77. THE CAPACITY TO ACT nil great training in self-mastery. And if that self-mastery is not achieved by the end of this period, at least in such mea- sure as to ensure a strong and well-poised manhood, the fault probably lies, either in some defective condition of mind or body, or in some failure of the educational process. " Spoiled children " are well named; for in their case, through the lack of external control in the early years, the capacity for internal control has been dwarfed at the out- set, and the whole plan of life marred and spoiled. Control is both negative and positive. On the positive side it means direction and regulation of action ; on the neg- ative side it means repression of undesirable acts, or inhibi- tion of the promptings to such acts. Both these are im- portant. From the standploint of education, the power to inhibit is as necessary as the power to initiate; and both should become fixed in the structure of habitual behavior. Control, in reference to the movements of the body, in- volves dexterity in the use of the limbs, promptness of re- action to stimuli, energy and precision in movement. Con- trol in the full sense carries with it also the element of in- dependence of foreign suggestion, not in the sense that the person who has developed his power of control is imper- vious to suggestions from others, but in the sense that he is not the slave of those suggestions. He can, when he will, act independently of fhem. He can act upon his own initia- "tive, and in spite of the influences of the environment. Observations of the sexes show a slight superiority on the part of the boy, over the girl of the same physiological age, in the various elements of control mentioned above. Rather more energy, promptness, precision, and dexterity, in most kinds of movements, belongs to the male. Espe- cially is this the case in the matter of energy, and in the matter of independence. All young people are pro- nouncedly open to suggestion, but girls particularly so. On the other hand, all young people are developing indepen- dence of judgment and action, but boys particularly so. It is not quite so easy to infer individual action from group ac- 112 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE tion, in the case of a boy, as it is in the case of a girl. All young persons are strongly inclined to do what is being done by others about them, but girls particularly so. " What is being done by those about them " means not only what is being doi;ie by their elders, but also what is being done by their young companions. The suggestion carried by the social unit to which they belong, the class at school, the family at home, the permanent club, or the more evanescent gathering of a single occasion, finds them highly susceptible. But while both sexes are sensitive to the influence of the social unit, that sensitiveness is greater among girls than among boys, and their response is more direct, simple and unhesitating. They are less disposed to call in question that which has the sanction of social custom. As has been re- marked, boys are more disposed to be pathfinders, girls to be path-followers. These statements of course are meant to be taken rela- tively and by way of comparison. The fact is that in both sexes the tendency to imitation, and the disposition to strike out into independent action, develop together. Imitation it- self becomes more conscious, and, if the word may be per- mitted, deliberate. Concrete personalities, characters as a whole, impress the mind, and awaken response in the way of reproduction of the characteristic actions of those per- sons. Imitation has reference now to the larger whole of an entire personality, rather than to the lesser whole of a single momentary act. And so I apply the word " deliber- ate " to this imitation, because it carries with it, and pre- supposes, a conscious response to the impression produced by some personality as a whole, and therefore some mental occupation with such total personality. Hence imitation and growing independence of action may very well go together; for such imitation as I have de- scribed is not at all incompatible with Independent action. And both alike are possible because the mind is now able to grasp these large totals; on the one hand a total per- THE CAPACITY TO ACT 113 sonality worthy of imitation, and on the other a type or kind of conduct regarded as worthy to be performed. It is a well-recognised law of the development of muscular control and abihty, that the larger and more fundamental muscles come into play earlier, and the finer and more ac- cessory muscles later. E.g., the muscles of the trunk are under control before those of the fingers; those of the legs as a whole before those of the toes separately. This is the natural order, as in most cases the effective use of the finer muscles cannot be made unless the larger muscles are already under control. The use of the larger muscles is more vital, more absolutely essential, and so passes more readily under the domain of habit, as their action was in the first place more instinctive, and more closely connected with the fundamental needs of the organism. In the period just preceding puberty the larger and more fundamental muscles are much used, and correspondingly much de- veloped; but in the adolescent period the finer muscles, those more closely connected with some special skill, as distin- guished from general activity, are increasingly used; as though nature were putting the youth through his appren- ticeship to the business of life, in which all the resources of his personal equipment are likely to be of service, and any one of which, or any group of which, may be called into re- quisition at any time. The subject of habit- formation should be discussed under the general head of Will, or In close connexion with that topic. Habit is a matter of the greatest importance at every period of life, but in mature and later life Its Im- portance consists chiefly in what one may call its irrevocable- ness. That Is to say, habits are formed, broken, and modi- fied, almost wholly In pre-adult days. Then the whole psycho-physical organism is plastic and susceptible; whereas in later years the plasticity and susceptibility have become greatly diminished. The whole being is fast settling Into grooves from which it will not again wholly escape; the 114 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE man and the woman are already, even at twenty-five, getting into fixed ways of doing things, and with every passing year the ways are more and more fixed. Habit has its physiological basis and possibility in the fact of the modifiability of all living nervous and muscular tissue; which means that the structure of this tissue is al- tered whenever any movement is made. Every stimula- tion of a nerve, and every contraction of a muscle, has some effect on the structure of that nerve or muscle, which tends to make that stimulation or contraction a little easier to achieve and a little more likely to take place again. The familiar figure of a pathway, worn smoother and smoother by the daily passage of travellers, may be used, if it is not understood too literally. There are no actual pathways in the brain, or nerves, or muscles; and yet it Is certain that processes occurring in these media tend to recur, and that tendency, roughly speaking, is strong in proportion to the number of times the process occurs. I say " roughly," be- cause there are several conditions that must be taken into account in calculating the influence of a movement in predis- posing the organism to its repetition. For example, the hedonic quality of the feelings that accompany the move- ment exercises the greatest influence. Movements that cause pain are not likely to set up tendencies facilitating their own repetition. The average child does not tend to form the habit of putting his hands on the hot stove. Again, if a sufficiently wide interval of time is allowed to elapse between the first and second, the second and third, the third and fourth, or any other pair of successive per- formances of the movement, the tendency fades out in these long intervals (the pathway becomes overgrown) and the habit is broken up, or fails to form. The practical lesson from this, of course, is that if one wishes to form a certain habit, he should perform the requisite movements fre- quently, or at short intervals; if he wishes to break up a habit already formed, or in process of formation, or to pre- vent the formation of a certain habit, he should make the THE CAPACITY TO ACT 115 intervals as wide as possible; or, better still, refrain alto- gether from the act. Again, apart from the number of repetitions of the act, and their closeness together in time, the vigor of their performance and the amount of energy and at- tention put into them must be reckoned with. Movements that are made with but little attention, with only evanes- cent interest, with a lack of enthusiasm, and so with a mini- mum of energy and vigor, do not leave deep traces behind, and do not, therefore, predispose the organism so strongly to their repetition, as those actions into which the whole force and vim of body and mind are injected. This leads directly to another point of the first impor- tance. Habit, as we have defined it, is not merely a mat- ter of nerves and muscles. These furnish the physiological basis of habit; but habit itself finds a place and plays a part in every department of the mental and physical Hfe. Our reactions to the conditions in which we live are multiform; but there is no reaction of ours that may not become habit- ual, nay, that does not at once begin to become habitual, even from its first occurrence; and, if repeated, it soon becomes positively and definitely habitual. Not only the way in which we perform muscular movements, holding a pen, walk- ing, speaking, eating, and the like, but the way in which we think and feel, in given circumstances, tends to become fixed and permanent. We may form the habit of taking offencej easily, or the opposite habit of being patient and magnani-(' mous. We may form the habit of driving hard bargains in business, or of dealing generously with our neighbors. We may form the habit of pessimism, or the habit of optimism; the habit of refined or the habit of vulgar behavior; the habit of self-centered egotism, or the habit of comprehen- sive altruism. Our Intellectual life is as open to the in- fluence of the law of habit as any other phase of our being. Few habits are more easily formed, or more difiicult to dis- solve, than the habit of superficial thinking, such as may be seen in that type of mind that demands the lightest and ii6 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE frothiest exercise, that reads nothing but the shallowest fiction, and frequents nothing but the most sensational and least thoughtful dramatic performances. On the other hand, the habit of reading Milton, and Shakespeare, and Gibbon, and Plato, and Kant, is not formed in a day, but it may be formed, and when once it is formed, it is a mental asset whose value is beyond rubies. The same may be said, with even more emphasis, of the habit of thinking on broad themes rather than narrow ones, of looking deeply into things rather than skimming over the surface, of thinking logically and with severe consistency, instead of being con- tent with loose, incoherent, and haphazard thought proc- esses. Indeed, it would hardly be an extravagance to say that the aim of education is not so much to fill the mind with knowledge, regarding any one, or any number of subjects, as to form in the mind this habit of clear cut, logical think- ing on all subjects whatsoever; so that it cannot any longer be deceived with sophistries, or satisfied with gratuitous premises or irrelevant conclusions, with hasty generaliza- tions made on an insufficient basis of facts, or with supersti- tions based on no facts at all. Habit plays its part in morality and religion as elsewhere. Not merely in the outward acts, the external observances that belong to the moral and religious life, the movements and attitudes of worship, and the behavior that befits the moral man, but in the inner springs from which these outward actions flow, habit has its part to play. There is such a thing as the habitually reverent mind, and the habitu- ally wholesome mind. And there is only one way to form and fix these habitual inner states, as well as these habitual outer movements, and that, as Aristotle taught us long ago, is by doing that which you wish to form the habit of doing. The only way to become an habitual early riser is to rise early, and keep on rising early, until the habit is formed. And the only way to be habitually clean and strong and logi- cal and reverent in your thinking and conduct is to practice strenuously this sort of thinking and action, and refuse the THE CAPACITY TO ACT 117 mind's hospitality to the opposite sort, until the habit be formed. In dwelling thus on the value and importance of habit one must not forget that there is another side to all this; that habit-forming has its dangers as well as its advantages, and that the formation of habits is not the only aim of educa- tion. The highest type of character is not the man whose life has become the most completely habituated, unless, as a counterpoise to that habituation, there is the developed power of fresh initiative, which would carry with it the power to break up any given habit whenever that might be necessary, or to depart radically, at a moment's notice, from the lines laid down by habit, should occasion require it. It is well that a very large part of our activity should come under the domain of habit, for otherwise the attention would be so occupied with the details of our behavior that we should not be able to make any progress; but on the other hand it is well that no important group of movements should become so irrevocably habitual that ideational control cannot be resumed at any time. Habit-forming begins, as we have said, with the begin- ning of life, and continues throughout, though with so greatly diminished force in mature life and old age, as to be virtually negligible; its place being taken by habit confirm- ing. Childhood is the golden age for habit-forming, but adolescence is scarcely less important in this respect. In fact, there are two ways in which, as it seems to me, this period is even more important than childhood in regard to habit. For in the first place habits may now be formed with a clearer consciousness of what Is involved and with a more definite purpose in view. Children form their habits unconsciously, in response to the suggestions that come from without, and with no discrimination between the habits that are, and those that are not, worth forming. But in youth habits may be, and often are, formed consciously, in rela- tive independence of outside suggestion, and with that dis- crimination between the desirable and the undesirable which ii8 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE has so much to do with the determination of character. In other words, the formation of habits in youth may be more self-originated and self-controlled than in childhood. And in the second place the expanded outlook on life, which is the mark of youth as distinguished from childhood, en- larges the area of habit-formation, and makes possible a conscious correlation of one's habits into something like a system of habits. Each single habit does not stand by it- self, unrelated to the rest, but comes into closer relation to the rest, and is modified in accordance with the requirements of the whole system; or at all events the correlation referred to is relatively much farther advanced than was possible in the earlier period. CHAPTER IX SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS AND THE SOCIAL ORDER In the ordinary life of every individual the self is the living center, round which the chief interests gather, from which the principal energies and activities proceed, and in terms of which the leading valuations are made. Judg- ment, in its claim to universal validity, must first vindicate itself to the individual consciousness; and there are many who are unable to find any other ground for the universal validity of a judgment, except its irresistible appeal to the individual mind. To make this account intelligible one must obviously find somehow an identity underlying the di- versity of individuals, and some means of passing from the judgment as a mere psychical occurrence in a single con- sciousness to the same judgment as possessing cogency for all intelligence. These are problems for metaphysic and epistemology; but they have important bearings on psy- chology as well. The significance of the idea of the self, in common life, in psychology, in ethics, in religion, and in education, is so well recognised as scarcely to call for special mention here. Psychology may very well and very justly pride itself on getting along " without a soul," in the older sense of that much-abused term, but it cannot ignore that clustering of mental states and processes, that unification of ideas, that sharp separation between the groups and clusters that I call " mine " and the groups and clusters that I call " yours," which everywhere mark the mental history of men; nor that assurance of the identity and permanence of the in- dividual subject throughout the diversity and the ceaseless mutations of the contents of his experience, which, in all cases not flagrantly pathological, constitute the most per- sistent and ineradicable of our convictions. 119 I20 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE In the moral life of men, and in ethical philosophy, which is the attempt to give a rational account of that moral life, personal identity is at the same time the starting point and the goal, the foundation and the copestone. Without it there could be no explanation of moral obligation; for " duty " is a word without a meaning unless there be some one who can say, " This is my duty." Apart from the con- ception of personality there could be no imaginable stimmum bonum to constitute the final goal of all moral effort and the final definition of the meaning of life. Religion likewise becomes a term devoid of significance if selfhood be not real; for surely personal devotion, and the allegiance of the finite to the infinite Being, are of the essence of religion. And though in some of the great world religions individuality is deemed a curse instead of a bless- ing, and the highest result of religious devotion is thought to be the final deliverance of the individual from the fetters of his individuality, in Christianity, on the contrary, the one thing of supreme value is personality, and the suprdme ob- ject of religious culture is the preservation of the individual character against the deteriorating inroads of hostile forces, and its development up to the highest possible perfection of which it is capable. The whole theory and practice of education, the final end of which is identical with that of religion, grow out of, and take shape in accordance with, the same postulate. The history of education reveals much groping in the darkness, much " trial and error," but through it all one great con- viction has been slowly but surely gaining ground, and en- trenching itself in the pedagogic consciousness; the con- viction, namely, that education in its essence, as distinguished from its accidents, means the effort to help personality to find itself, to realize itself, and progressively to develop itself towards its highest conceivable form. It is not our business at present to provide a definition of the ego, nor to settle any of the properly philosophical ques- tions associated with that concept. Blit it is our business to SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 121 take account of the idea of the self, and to note the more important aspects in the development of the consciousness of the self, or self-consciousness, especially in the period of adolescence, wherein that development becomes marked by many special and striking features. Before doing so, however, it may be permissible to put on record, in three propositions, two of them negative and one affirmative, what we would regard as the prolegomena of a philosophical account of the ego, were we undertaking to give such an account. First, the self cannot be conceived hypostatically, that is to say, as a hard and fast core, or bit of soul-substance, exist- ing apart from, and quite independent of, the ideas, feel- ings, and other phenomena that constitute the stream of its experience. Such an ego has small chance of survival against the attacks that have been made upon it, especially since Hume wrote his Treatise of Human Nature. Secondly, the soul must not, on the other hand, be com- pletely identified, as the radical empiricist tends to identify it, with the stream of ideas and feelings; for this, as has so often been pointed out, fails not merely to account for it, but equally fails to account for them. Thirdly, it must, if we are to have a consistent philosophy, be thought of as in some way the principle of unity, synthe- sis, and constructive interpretation, by which the phenomena become intelligible and the mental world presents itself as a cosmos instead of a chaos. It is that which holds the phe- nomena together, imparting to them the only unity and the only significance they possess. Each of us certainly thinks of his " ego " as one, while his " states " are many. It con- tinues, while they come and go. It confers its unity, not only upon the experiences of the present, but upon those of the remembered past and the imagined future. Back through the past, as far as memory can reach, everyone recognizes that living line of selfhood which he calls me, that holds together all the past and gives to it a meaning. And if we turn in the other direction and try to forecast 122 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE our future, still there is projected through all that forecast and conjecture the same predominant me, giving unity to those projected experiences, and imparting to them the only value they possess and the only interest that belongs to them. We even project our experience forward into an unimagin- able eternity, and even there the central idea is of this per- sistent, identical self, conceived as abiding through all mu- tations of experience, surviving not only the duration of the physical organism, but continuing after the material heavens have been rolled together as a scroll and the elements of external nature have passed away in fervent heat. We may in fact go much further than this and say, not only that our conceptions and imaginings of a future life involve the thought of conscious and personal continuance, but that conscious and personal continuity are of the very essence of the matter. The question of immortality pre- supposes and depends upon the question of individuality, and the definition of the latter carries with it the definition of the former. As Professor Royce puts it, the question, " What do we mean when we talk of an individual man? is not a mere preliminary to an inquiry concerning immortality, but it includes by far the larger part of just that inquiry it- self." ^ Immortality is really naught else but the full reali- zation of individuality. Self-consciousness, as the recognition of personal iden- tity and the comprehension of its meaning and implica- tions, has its own history in each individual. Like most other great concepts, it has its period of weak and tentative beginnings, its accelerations and retardations of progress, its zenith meridian, and its possible decline. The observer may detect, as the individual moves forward from infancy, through boyhood, youth and manhood, the gradual clear- ing up of the idea, and the progressive discovery and loca- tion of the boundary between the ego and the non-ego, in the various senses of these terms given us by Prof. James.*^ 1 Royce, The Conception of Immortality, Boston, pp. 12-14. 'James, Psychology, (Briefer course), New York, 1892, Ch. XII. SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 123 More rapidly perhaps in adolescence than anywhere else, does this development go on. The child begins without any clear ideas of any sort. Experience, in these its early stages, comes to him, so far as we know, solely in the form of sen- sations, and there is, at first, among these sensations, only a minimum of distinction, discrimination, or apprehension of meaning. The infant gives no evidence of any clear distinction between that which is me and that which is not me. It is sometimes said that his point of view is purely objective, but even this is scarcely correct, for the distinc- tion of subject and object has not yet become an idea in his mind, and so for him there is as yet neither subject nor object. The mass of sensations is simply experienced, as they come and pass away. Soon, however, boundary lines begin faintly to appear, distinctions begin faintly to be made. When he drops a toy upon the floor he feels no pain; when he drops the same toy upon his hand or strikes his face with it he feels pain. Food eaten by someone else gives him no pleasure, food eaten by himself does. And so, by experiences such as these he surveys out and fixes the line between the empirical ego and the material non-ego. Among the many factors and conditions that play their part in the unfolding of the consciousness of the self, the following are of special importance : First, the instinct of self-preservation, " nature's first law." This is mentioned first because it is manifested prac- tically from the beginning of life, and continues to be one of the strongest and most enduring of the native tendencies of the human mind. It seems to point to the existence of a sort of primitive self-feeling from early infancy, and in its operation it not only serves a highly useful purpose in ward- ing off injuries to the physical self, but it is also a powerful factor in building up the self idea. The child who shrinks back instinctively from the approach of a strange dog does something, however small, towards bringing home to him- self the meaning of his selfhood. In adolescence this primitive instinct remains active and 124 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE powerful. It expresses itself now, however, not merely in involuntary shrinkings away from some objects, and involun- tary Teachings out after others, but also, and more especially, in deep longings and strong desires for certain kinds or classes of things, persons, and pursuits, and in equally deep and strong aversions towards others. And in these desires and aversions one may easily discern the element of jealousy over the self and solicitude for its interests. Second, the instinct of possession, or the proprietary in- stinct. This also is one of the earliest of our native dis- positions to show itself. The distinction between what is " mine " and what is " yours " is a gradual differentiation, however, for in its earliest form the proprietary instinct makes little provision for any tuum whatever. To the infant, everything is his that he can grasp and retain. Or, more correctly, there is for him as yet neither a meum nor a tuum; and his grasping and holding of all sorts of objects is a pure instinct that could not give any account of itself. With the growth of experience, and especially by virtue of sundry unpleasant experiences connected with his grasping of certain things and being compelled to re- linquish them to others, the property idea takes shape in his mind. This idea becomes fixed quite clearly as a rule dur- ing the period of boyhood, which is filled for the most part with those activities and interests that are bound up with material objects. The child from eight to twelve sets great store by his own things. He likes to have his own room, his own books, his own tools, his own drawer in the bureau, his own hooks in the clothes closet, and his own purse, con- taining his own money. He becomes interested in accumu- lating certain kinds of things, and begins to make collec- tions of coins, stamps, autographs, insects, stones, or other objects. If circumstances permit it he probably possesses a dog, cat, parrot or pony of his very own, or perhaps a garden plot, to the care of which he devotes himself with a zeal and enthusiasm which, were they less intermittent, would leave little to be desired. SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 125 During the youth period some of these possessions lose their hold upon his affections, while others continue to be valued, but for new and different reasons. His interest in things that can be possessed as his own waxes and wanes according to their personal associations; that is to say, ac- cording to the extent to which they can become objects of interest to others of his own age as well as to himself. And so the relation to things on the one hand, and to per- sons on the other, helps to bring out into clearer conscious- ness the idea of his own selfhood. But this involves the next point. Third, the social consciousness, or the realization of his relation to other persons. This social consciousness is the psychical correlate of the consciousness of the self, and the two develop hand in hand. Each helps to bring the other out into clearness of conception. As iron sharpeneth iron, so the contact of personality with person- ality, of will with will, of opinion with opinion, tends to sharpen and focus the idea of the self, until its outlines are distinct and clear. In acquiring the idea of other person- alities I develop the idea of my own. The two are in- extricably bound up together, so that neither would be what it is without the other. They are two sides of the same fact. " Self-consciousness is per se social consciousness, and individuality is itself a social fact. Conversely, society, as distinguished from herds, arises in and through the individ- uating process, that is, through the increasing notice that one takes of another as an experiencing self. Neither term, then — society or individual — is static ; neither merely im- poses itself upon the other, but the two are complementary phases of one and the same movement." ^ Virtually from the beginning of his life the child finds himself a member of some form of social order or unit, in which, as a member, he comes into certain actual and effec- tive relations with others. The home is the first, and by great odds the most important, of these social units. Here 1 Coe, The Psychology of Religion, Chicago, 1906, Ch. IX. 126 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE he receives food, clothing, shelter, and numberless favors and benefits without which his Hfe would be impossible, and in return he learns to respect the rights and claims of the other members of the unit. Thus there is brought home to him the idea of himself as the center of incoming and outgoing processes and activities; and so the concept of the self begins to shape and clear itself in his mind. The school, the neighborhood, the church, the state, are other, wider concentric circles of social organization, between which and the individual there is constant reciprocal action, each social unit becoming effective in its due time and proportion; and through this reciprocal action the idea of the self gradually becomes clear. In the earlier years of the adolescent period many new emotions are inseparably associated with the ideas of the self and the persons of others, and so self-feeling becomes greatly developed; while in the later years of the period these emotions come into closer relation to the ac- tivities of ideation, and the concept of the self moves towards its final form. Fourth, the unfolding of the sex life, with its attendant phenomena, is a specific phase of the preceding factor, namely, the social consciousness. This development, which occurs almost wholly within the period of the teens, no doubt does much to bring before the mind the relation between the individual and his fellows. It is now no longer pos- sible for boys or girls to remain indifferent. Interest of a new sort begins to awaken, in the whole world of per- sons in general, and in those of the opposite sex in particular. Boys love to show their strength, courage, and other manly qualities, in the presence of girls; and girls are equally fond of letting their charms and graces be seen by boyish eyes. Through this native instinct the self defines itself in relation to other selves. A new sensitiveness to every phase of the social and personal environment is experienced. The youth begins to care what others think of him, what others say about him. He begins to weigh himself in the balances, and to sit in judgment upon himself, critically testing, to SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 127 find the weak and the strong points. Two forces are at work within him, tending in opposite directions. On the one hand those new accessions of strength and capacity to which reference has been made tend to make him over- confident of himself, so that he takes himself very seriously, makes large claims for himself, and expects great things from himself. And a leading motive In all this is his de- sire to gain the esteem of others and to appear well in their eyes. On the other hand the intensified consciousness of the presence of others, with the increased sensitiveness which comes to the whole organism at this time, produces a fear of failure, a heightened self-respect, a dread of being thought stupid, or clumsy, or incompetent, that makes the adolescent the most bashful, diffident, and self-distrustful creature in the world. Every parent and every teacher knows how much more difficult it is to induce a boy or girl of fourteen or fifteen to take part In any pubUc entertain- ment, to sing or recite, or to enter a drawing room full of strange company, than to induce a little child to do the same things. The difference is due to the difference of self- consciousness In the two cases. To the little child the pos- sibility of making a false step, or of saying an inappropriate thing, is not a matter of very serious moment, because the self that would be discounted thereby does not occupy any prominent place in his consciousness. But to the boy or girl of the teen age the self-idea stands in the forefront of consciousness, and the fortunes and misfortunes of the self are watched with a jealous interest. Fifth, the passion for achievement. Young life, wher- ever It Is normal and healthy, is notoriously active. But the activity of one age differs in some important respects from that of another. In normal development a continually in- creasing part Is played by ideas and purposes. Infancy is full of motor Impulses, with a minimum of ideational con- trol. Maturity means control of these motor Impulses for the sake of ends to be realized. On the way from the former stage to the latter there is a period in which the 128 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE pure joy of achievement accounts for a large part of the child's behavior; the end in view being immediate rather than remote, a concrete result rather than a general con- ception. Most small boys are ambitious to do things, and to do them unaided. To climb trees, row boats, leap across wide spaces, swim and dive; to go on little journeys un- accompanied by older people, to carry money and make purchases, to manage a garden plot or drive a horse, gives the boy keen pleasure, because in the skill and strength re- quired for these achievements his own very self is called forth into activity. In youth this pride in personal achievement suffers no diminution, but on the contrary there are many things that foster and intensify it. Every increment in physical growth, especially in height, every increase in strength, every fresh triumph in the world of achievement, every promotion at school, indicative of new attainments in mental power, every larger trust reposed in the youth by those who have author- ity oyer him, gives him a new sense of personal importance, and helps to bring the idea of himself more clearly before the footlights of his consciousness. Youth, moreover, is the age above all others when golden dreams are dreamed, and visions seen, of splendid achievements in all these realms of action, and others besides; when the fields of art and let- ters and philosophy, or it may be of science or invention or philanthropy, shall be explored and cultivated with a new and unexampled enterprise. But again I am led to the next point. Sixth, the vocation idea. During the later years of the adolescent period, and in many cases even in its earlier years, the thoughts of the youth begin to go out towards the fu- ture, and he begins to make plans regarding his life calling. Very naturally and properly his mind dwells upon the oc- cupation by which he shall make his life worth while, win a name for himself in the world, acquire a fortune, or pro- duce something of value in the industrial, commercial, scientific or literary realm. In all these plans and dreams SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 129 he himself is the living center, and all the achievements are valued in reference to that center. But along with this thought of himself there is almost always the thought of others also, whose presence and co-operation are held to be essential to the desirability of those achievements. At first in a very diffident and shamefaced way, but later with more courage and serenity, the adolescent pictures himself as the head of a home, whose other members shall provide the lead- ing incentive to all his efforts, and whose comfort and hap- piness shall bulk largely in all his thoughts and activities. Seventh, moral and religious Instruction. These have their main point and significance in their bearing upon what Coe calls the " individuating process." The demands of the moral law bear directly upon the individual will; and the form in which that demand presents itself, in the first instance at all events, is what might be called social pressure. Through its various sanctions the social order makes the child aware of the sort of conduct that is expected of him, in view of his place and function as a member of that order. Here then we see the self and the world of other selves at one of their most important and effective points of con- tact. When the demands of the moral life become con- sciously operative at the higher level of the categorical im- perative, and the claims of duty make themselves felt more or less independently of any social sanctions, the conscious- ness of the moral self clears itself still further. For as the law of right and duty ceases to lean for support on external authority, as moral control takes the form of 5f//-control in increasing measure, individual responsibility and individ- ual autonomy are more and more definitely recognized. If the moral ideal is the highest possible perfection of individ- ual character, then every step in moral training is a step in the process of defining the self and bringing it into the distinct awareness of itself. We shall have opportunity in a later chapter of pointing out how large a part of this process takes place in the adolescent years. That the same is true of the religious life goes without I30 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE saying. The heart and soul of religion is the relation be- tween the finite and the infinite persons. Reverence, hom- age, love and service, are rendered by the human individ- ual to the Divine. Every ingredient of the religious con- sciousness, — realization of personal dependence and need; acknowledgement of personal obligations to God and of re- ligious duties owing to Him; participation in religious exer- cises, such as prayer and praise; the observance of the sac- raments and ordinances of the Church; aspirations and striv- ings after holiness of life and character — all these have the effect of accentuating individual personality and bring- ing the ideas involved therein into the foreground of con- sciousness. We shall find, in the chapter on Religion, that adolescence is the golden age for religious instruction and religious experience, in the deeper senses of those terms. Like most other feelings and ideas, the self-feeling may develop abnormal forms. Perhaps the most unwholesome of these is the disposition to excessive and morbid introspec- tion and self-analysis. This, like other deviations from the healthy type, is more likely to occur in the period of youth than either before or after that time. An infant given to introspection would be a monstrosity ; and a boy or girl under twelve years of age greatly addicted to self-examination would be scarcely less so. But in youth the conditions, both in the subject himself and in his social surroundings, are such as to invite and foster the habit of self-absorption; a habit that may easily pass beyond the bounds of sober, well-bal- anced self-consciousness. Precocity in self-analysis and introspection is a distinctly unhealthy symptom, which may take opposite forms. In some cases it shows itself in an exaggerated notion of one's own importance, which, if not duly counterpoised by salutary experience or discipline calculated to convince the individual of the comparative insignificance of the place he fills in the world, is likely to make him an insufferable egotist through all his days. In other cases, where the self-feeling is equally acute, but the natural disposition less aggressive and self- SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 131 assertive, it is likely to produce a hesitant, hair-splitting, irresolute, over-punctilious individual, whose morbid fear of making a mistake, or of committing a sin, paralyses all effort, and makes him a source of distress to himself and to others. In their extreme pathological forms the former is to be found in the maniac, with illusions of greatness, pro- claiming himself a king; and the latter in the melancholiac, who sits all day silent and motionless, apparently without the power or the desire to take any active interest, either in what is going on about him, or in the concerns of his own personality. The ideal type of human character (the goal of the edu- cational process) is an individual with pronounced and effec- tive individuality, in whom all the forces and resources of mind, heart and will, are thoroughly organized and con- stantly utilized, in the service of moral ends; which means that all the activities of the individual, while conducive to his own further self-realization, are in like manner conducive to the same self-realization on the part of all other selves, so far as his influence extends. CHAPTER X SEX No part of our subject is more difficult to treat wisely than this, and yet there is no part whose omission would be less excusable. For in that period of life with which this book attempts to deal, the facts of sex compel attention, the phenomena most directly connected with the reproductive functions on the physical side show themselves for the first time in more than a merely potential way; while on the mental side those feelings and ideas, instincts and emotions, interests and desires, that are bound up with the sex life undergo a like development. So potent is the influence of the sex factor in giving to the second dozen years of life their distinctive character, that to attempt a psychological account of those years without any reference to that factor would be as absurd as to write a psychology of childhood without any reference to the instinct of imitation. One must either write of sex or refrain from attempting a psy- chology of adolescence. The structures and functions that constitute the physical aspect of sex are of course absolutely essential to the exist- ence and continuance of the race, and as natural and normal as any others ; and yet, rightly or wrongly, they have come to be regarded in all refined society as something that must be spoken of, if at all, with especial reserve and circumspec- tion, under penalty of offending against good taste and good morals. In recent years, however, the subject has received a good deal of attention, and much discussion has taken place, with great diversity of opinion, not only as to what constitutes propriety at this point, but more especially as to what instruction, if any, should be given to children and 133 SEX 133 young people on the subject of the origin of life and the meaning of sex, in the interests of the children and young people themselves, and with a view to the highest good of human society in the future ; which, we may surely take for granted, is the desideratum accepted in common by all the parties to the controversy. On the one hand there are many who believe that our conventional reserve on this subject is itself an ofFence against good morals, which, therefore, defeats its own purpose. In advocating frankness and plainness of speech, they point to the obvious and very real dangers of a reticence that leaves boys and girls to discover as best they may the explanation of the new facts that now compel their attention and arouse their curiosity. The desired information, they say, is likely to be obtained, in that case, from persons who are them- selves more or less sexually depraved, as well as Ignorant of the real facts; with the deplorable result that the first lesson on sex matters received by the boy or girl Is scientific- ally untrue and morally unclean. Those of the opposite way of thinking warn us of what they consider the still greater dangers of plain speech and unreserved frankness. They maintain that innocence is the surest safeguard of purity; that as a general rule each indi- vidual may be trusted to discover whatever It Is necessary for him to know, when the proper time arrives; that all normal children are equipped by nature with an innate re- serve on sex matters that ought to be taken by us as a hint and a warning; and that to break through this reserve and obtrude sex information upon innocent boys and girls, is a great pedagogical blunder and a serious moral obscenity. We shall return to this phase of the subject under the general heading of pedagogy; * only pausing at present to remark that there are obvious limits in both directions, be- yond which it is neither wise nor useful to proceed in this matter. The difficulty is to determine the location of those limits, especially in the abstract. 1 Vide infra, Ch. XIV. 134 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE Much of the aversion with which any open discussion of this subject is regarded by many people is due to the narrow range within which the subject is conceived. Too often it is thought of wholly on the physical plane, and almost wholly in reference to the physical organs directly concerned, together with the animal passions involved. The very in- tensity of these passions, and their close connexion with the physical processes, tend to obscure from our minds the broader aspects of the matter. The truth is, that however central and obtrusive these things may be, the range of the subject is vastly wider than this. The characteristics of sex belong not merely to these special organs, but permeate the whole body, and the entire life of feeling and thought and will. The normal woman is essentially female from head to foot, in bearing and conduct, in sentiment and ex- pression, in feeling, thought and action, and from the be- ginning of girlhood to the end of life. So, also, with the normal man. He is essentially and vitally male, through- out the whole range of his being. And this can be said without denying that the sexes have much in common; quite enough to justify the use of the generic name Man. In regard to many of the native in- stincts, the chief forms of emotion, the principles and laws of intellectual action, and the countless forms of mental as- sociation and habit, to say nothing of the structure and functions of most organs of the body, such as heart, lungs, stomach, etc., that which is common to both far outweighs that which is peculiar to each. Even sex itself is in the deepest sense a common characteristic, and the differences between male and female, fundamental though they be, are underlaid by a still more fundamental identity. The dif- ferentiating qualities, as we see them in their present forms in the human race, are the product of a long evolution from lower, simpler, and less distinctive qualities; and if we re- trace as well as we can the process by which they have come to be what they are, we shall light upon forms of life that come into being, not by conjugation of dimorphic cells, but SEX 135, by simple division of a single cell, or by parthenogenetic re- production; in which cases "sex" can hardly be said to exist at all. Those qualities, moreover, by virtue of which one individual is male and another female, taken not only severally but collectively, and including not only the physical but also the intellectual, the moral, and other traits, gifts and capacities, are not so many independent and simple phenomena, but opposite and complementary phases of one and the same complex phenomenon. An incidental by-product of this may be seen in the fact that there are many shades of variation among individuals, both from the female and from the male type (to say noth- ing of downright hermaphroditism) so that we find all de- grees of " masculinity " among women and all degrees of " effeminacy " among men. This approximation of the sexes to each other may involve not only the mental and moral qualities, but even some of the physical. A mascu- line woman is frequently, though not always, large and bony, with coarse hair, square jaw, and deep voice; while con- versely, the effeminate man is likely to be the possessor of a soft voice, silky hair, and dainty hands and feet. In manner and disposition the former Is bold and aggressive, and the latter timid and retiring. It should be added that neither sex admires this outcrop of its peculiar characteristics in persons of the opposite sex. An effeminate man finds little favor among women, and a masculine woman is detested, as a rule, by men. The facts just referred to corroborate the statement that the words " male " and " female " stand for characteristic qualities that divide and yet unite, for differences that are vital and essential without being absolute; in short, for mutually complementary aspects of a deeper unity. But they do not on that account cease to be genuine differences, for all real difference requires an element of identity in the things that differ, just as all real identity requires an element of difference in the things that are identical. That sex is too broad a fact to be adequately defined in 136 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE merely physiological terms is shown also by the fact that the act of procreation is not merely a physical act, in which the body of a new individual comes into being through the union of certain cells. That which is produced is a psycho- physical and not merely a physical organism, and the qual- ities of his mental life, as well as of his physical, are de- pendent on the character of the race of which he is a scion, and of the parents to whom his being is immediately due. Procreation is a mental and a moral transaction, as well as a physical. The facts of heredity, as well as its laws, are becoming more and more fully known, though their ultimate explanation is not yet forthcoming; and they are seen to apply to the mind and the character as well as to the body. Investigations into the history of certain families have shown a remarkable persistence of leading characteristics through many generations. Criminal inclinations, not merely gen- eral, but more or less specific (that is to say, not merely the general inclination to lawless conduct, but the disposition to commit certain specific kinds of crime) are transmitted from generation to generation, as far as the records extend, either continuously, or with certain atavistic omissions. So mo- mentous are the Issues Involved here, that more than one suggestion has been made, looking to some sort of social control of the process of procreation, in the interests of the race, and more than one experiment in human stirpiculture has been undertaken, with a view to improving the breed of men by means somewhat similar to those which have long been employed to Improve the breed of animals. Cer- tain obvious difficulties have always stood In the way of the success of these experiments, and probably will always do so; but the more modest efforts covered by the term " eugenics " have already been attended by a certain meas- ure of success. But this point may be pressed beyond the limits covered by questions of heredity. Love itself ' has passed through 1 As Thomson and Geddes have so well said, in Sex, New York, 1914, Chs. VI and IX. SEX 137 a long process of evolution, beginning with those lowest and simplest forms in which it meant nothing but a crude physical stimulus, and then an " Instinctive organic attrac- tion," often sub-conscious, and scarcely deserving of the name of love. To this was added at a later stage the attrac- tion of beauty in its many forms ; and then the subtler lure of the psychical, with the resistless appeal of personality to personality. Here, In the Ideal of human love, " all the finer threads of pre-human sex-attraction are interwoven and sublimed." It Is no longer merely two cells, but two souls that are seeking each other, with the desire to blend all their interests, purposes and Ideals in a permanent unity; and love has become " an afFair of body, soul and spirit." The fact of sex lies near the root of all organic life. In one form or another it pervades almost the entire realms of plant and animal existence. Nearly everywhere the male and female elements are to be found, and nearly everywhere the perpetuation of the species depends on the union of these two. Over the greater portion of that field with which biology is occupied we find duality of parentage, the male factor residing In one individual form, and the female In another. Each of these is absolutely essential to the other so far as reproduction Is concerned, neither by Itself being capable of procreation. Moreover, wherever this duality of parentage obtains, it seems to be a well-nigh universal law, that in the process of the reproduction and nurture of the offspring, much of the strength of the parents, especially of the mother, is consumed. Nature, " so careful of the type," sacrifices the individual to pre- serve the species. If the fact of sex be understood in the broad sense al- ready defined, and if sex differences involve not only cer- tain organs of the body, but the entire psycho-physical being, then It becomes an important matter for psychology and for pedagogy to give some account of those differences, as well as of the fundamental Identities that underlie them. To understand as well as we can the outstanding qualities 138 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE of manhood and of womanhood, respectively, and more es- pecially the nature of the boy who is becoming a man and of the girl who is becoming a woman, is a prime requisite for those who would undertake the education of the ado- lescent. In all the ordinary relations of the sexes one broad differ- ence stands out prominently. The male is everywhere the aggressor, the initiator, the seeker. He makes the first ap- proaches and the first proposals. Among races little ad- vanced in civilization he pursues, captures, and carries off the female of his choice, fighting off rival claimants, and she then becomes his property. At a somewhat higher stage of civilization he bargains with her father, agreeing to serve, perhaps, as Jacob did for Rachel, she having little or nothing to say in the matter; though the commercial nature of the transaction is often relieved, as in the case re- ferred to, by the presence of genuine affection; for the seven years seemed to Jacob " but a few days, for the love he had to her." At all the higher levels of civilization, even to the highest, the general principle remains the same, though the methods employed become more refined. It is still the business of the man to make the advances, to woo, and to seek; that of the woman to accept or reject the sug- gestions that are presented. In the event of her acceptance it immediately becomes his business to produce, provide and defend; hers to conserve, dispose, and use, what is pro- vided. So it seems to be throughout. To him belong ad- venture, achievement, conquest; to her conservation, nur- ture, and fostering care. She is much less disposed than he to make new discoveries, to find fresh ways of doing things, or to call in question estabUshed customs, traditions or be- liefs. Her attitude towards all that has been sanctified by tradition, custom, and convention is more docile and less critical than his. By nature she is neither a radical nor a non-conformist; nor does she find so much difficulty as he in believing that what is is right, and that the existing order had better not be disturbed. Only a very small percentage SEX 139 of all new inventions have been made by women, and they are responsible for only a very few of the reforms and revo- lutions that have been made, not merely in the political and industrial, but even in the domestic realm. One of the re- sults of Lancaster's investigations was the " noticeable fact that a large majority of those who express no desire for leadership are girls. Many of them said they much pre- ferred to be led." ^ They are path-followers rather than path finders. To this it may, of course, be objected, that all the differ- ences referred to, other than the physical (and even some of these) are artificial products, the outcome of age-long social custom, by which woman has been shut out (or shut in) from the more vigorous and aggressive activities; that her mental and physical powers have been moulded by con- tinuous limitation to the more passive and placid occupa- tions; and that the great changes now taking place In the position of woman In the social order will probably In a few more generations obliterate nearly all these differences In character and capacity of which we have spoken. To deny this in advance would, of course, be somewhat rash, but I confess to finding it very difficult to Imagine the ob- literation of the distinctive qualities of character that mark the sexes, or the complete assimilation of the mental char- acteristics of the one to those of the other. And if the possibility of this is hard to imagine, the desirability of it is even more difficult to concede. In spite of the fact that the great creative artists, poets, musicians, and architects, are mostly men, artistic taste, and the feeling for the beautiful, are more widely distributed among women. The temperament of the average woman is more aesthetic and less commercial than that of the average man. As a rule she is more interested In the hang of a bit of drapery than in the fluctuations of the stock market; and she bestows more thought upon the cut of a J- Lancaster, Psychology and Pedagogy of Adolescence, Fed. Sem., Vol. V, 1897. I40 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE child's frock than upon the fortunes of a political party at the polls. Her lack of business ability has been made the subject of many a jest, but even the jester has to admit her decided average superiority to man in all matters of taste and grace, in all questions of refinement and beauty. Intellectually, the mind of the man seems better fitted for the severer processes of abstract reasoning (in spite of the fact that there have been among women some distinguished mathematicians, metaphysicians, and logicians) the mind of the woman better adapted for the direct perception of the qualities of things. My own judgment, based on many years' experience as a teacher of both sexes, is that the male student is less docile and receptive, less disposed to accept without question what has been handed down by tradition, less content to absorb instruction from the teacher, than the female student. She wins her standing in the class lists, to a greater extent than he, by patient and painstaking diligence, by careful attention to matters of form and usage, and by the neatness and orderliness of her work. She relies more than he upon memory, and builds up her knowledge by association of ideas ; her mind is reproductive rather than productive. The work of the male student, in comparison with hers, is likely to appear untidy and slipshod; but it is also more likely than hers to be creative, productive, logical, judicial, discriminating and critical. He relies more upon his reason- ing powers, and builds up his knowledge by induction and de- duction. He betrays more independence of judgment, is more impatient of authority, and does not hesitate to differ, not only from his professor in the class room, but from Kant, from St. Thomas Aquinas, and even from Plato . In questions involving morality the perceptions and judg- ments of the woman are often truer than those of the man, but her efforts to justify those judgments by abstract reason- ing are apt to be far less successful than his would be. To her, much more than to him, would apply the advice given by a certain judge of long experience to a young SEX 141 barrister who had just been elevated to the bench ; " Give your decisions boldly, for they will probably be right; but withhold your reasons, for they will almost certainly be wrong." As the ordinary sphere of woman is less extended, her interests more restricted, her nature less aggressive, less courageous, more diffident, more refined, more given to pity and sympathy, more inclined to move in grooves that have been worn smooth by custom, prescription, and precedent, so she is less disposed than man to criminality, especially of the more flagrant types, that fly savagely in the face of the established social order. Though some of the most shocking crimes in the calendar have been committed by women, and though some of the most notorious criminals in all history have been women, yet it remains true, that the vast majority of those who break the law, and become the inmates of our prisons and houses of detention, or find their way to the gallows, are men. At the same time it must be admitted, that in spite of her finer moral intuition, woman is often more ready than man to subordinate right to ex- pediency, especially on petty questions, and in cases where one may do a great right by means of a little wrong. This is sometimes due to her timidity and dread of strife, her desire to please, and her aversion to anything that would estrange her friends and bring upon her the dislike of her companions (which really means that personal likes and dis- likes, which are concrete, are liable to override the moral imperative, which is abstract) ; ^ sometimes to her disposi- tion to act upon the deep desire of the moment, rather than upon the reasoned judgment of the moral situation involved; and sometimes to that very conservatism which makes her slow to see the need of challenging that which is customary. If the essential elements in religion are reverence, awe, and worshipful submission in the presence of a higher 1 " The thing that is least condemned is deception for the sake of someone else, while the thing that is hardest for a girl to do is to undertake the reporting of a wrongdoer." Tanner, The College Woman's Code of Honor, Ped. Sem., Vol. XIII, 1906. 142 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE power, together with the readiness to allow one's life and conduct to be ordered according to what appears to be the will of that higher power; the whole crowned and moti- vated by love, directed first to God and then to all that God loves, then it is no surprise to find that woman is more re- ligiously inclined than man. In so far as this somewhat sweeping statement is true,^ it is to be explained, on the in- tellectual side, by her less desire to call in question, or to bring under critical examination, the fundamental proposi- tions of the current religious creed. Her greater readiness to accept what is given, what is handed down by accepted tradition, what is supposed to be " orthodox," her greater conservatism, her dread and dislike of " heresy," whether in dress or in theology, make her far less frequently an in- novator than man, in these matters as in most others. The history of religions provides many examples of the fact that the forces that make for the undermining of an established order, or for the unsettling of an ecclesiastical system, for throwing off the fetters of creed and custom, and for rebel- lion against spiritual authority, make least headway against the loyalty of the women, their devotion to the existing situation, and their diffidence about spiritual, as about physi- cal adventure. As the fact of sex lies at the root of all life, and the union of the male and female elements is the essential con- dition of the preservation and perpetuation of the species, so the attraction of the sexes for each other, and the deep- seated though often unconscious desire of each to find satis- faction, first, in union with the other, and, secondly, in the offspring which are the product of that union, constitute the irresistible dynamic without which that union, with all its consequent burdens and labors, would probably never take place. The sexual and parental instincts are well nigh omnipotent in determining the direction of human history 1 The sense in which it seems to me to be true may be expressed by say- ing that women respond more readily to the claims of religion as ordinarily presented. It is not true that women are more religious than men, but it is true that more luomen than men are religious. SEX 143 and in shaping the character of human institutions. Dur- ing the period of adolescence both these instincts become operative, the sexual, of course, somewhat in advance of the parental. Throughout the first dozen years of life the dominant instincts are those that look to the preservation of the in- dividual, the satisfaction of his physical needs, the gratifica- tion of his curiosity regarding the world of nature about him, and his explorative motor reaction upon that world. Up to the age of eight or nine there is in the mind of the normal child, whose environment and rearing have been natural and wholesome, and whose sexual nature has not been stimulated into precocious activity by premature senti- mentality, scarcely more than a suspicion of sex-differences. Such measure of sex-consciousness as does exist, moreover, has reference to the social rather than to the physical. In this sense the sex-consciousness begins to make its influence felt even In childhood; for as soon as the period of Infancy proper is passed, one may observe the first faint beginnings of that shyness of the sexes in each other's presence, which afterwards becomes a distinctive feature of the relation- ship. It is a most interesting provision of nature that for a time, beginning just before puberty, the sexes spontaneously draw apart. Their interest in each other diminishes. Boys become absorbed in games and occupations which do not appeal to girls, while girls devote themselves to some pur- suits for which boys have nothing but scorn and contempt. The young lad now begins to rebel against any garment whose cut resembles that of a girl's garment, or any toy that Is common to the two sexes. The sled that resembles a girl's (having a protective railing about the edge) must now be discarded, or the railing removed ; the Eton collar, because It resembles the broad white collar commonly worn by girls, must be given up. A similar, though less pronounced change may be seen in the attitude of girls towards boys, not so much in the way 144 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE of objection to boyish garments, such as coats, boots and hats of a masculine cut, as in a certain attitude of antagonism to the boys themselves, whom they regard as rough and boisterous and clumsy. Boys' games cease to attract girls; they are too violent and strenuous. Boys' interests are more foreign and less comprehensible. Boys take delight in some sports which girls think " horrid." This instinctive drawing apart of the sexes is partly due to the fact that the advent of puberty, with the accelerated growth by which it is accompanied, does not come at ex- actly the same age in the two sexes. It is earlier in the female by a year or two. Hence a girl of thirteen is al- most certain to be nearly two years older, physiologically, than a boy of thirteen. Up to their twelfth year, or there- abouts, these two have been equal in years, and nearly equal in all other respects. But now the girl finds herself out- stripping the boy, and the boy finds himself being outstripped by the girl, in size, weight and many other respects. So these two, who perhaps have played together for years as equals and comrades, now find that they have little in com- mon, and so drift apart. Later, the girl will become in- terested in boys older than herself, and the boy in girls younger than himself; but in the meantime they content themselves with companions of their own age and sex. Beyond all question this temporary loss of interest in each other on the part of the sexes Is a most valuable safe- guard and preservative of their normal relations. It is one of nature's provisions for the welfare of society and the race. Premature sexual relations, or sexual precocity, is one of the greatest curses In the social life of uncivilized peoples, stunting their growth, dwarfing their intellects, and shortening their lives. It Is an unfailing mark of the higher civilizations that infancy, childhood, and innocent youth-time, are prolonged as much as possible, or at least until the individual has become quite fit to enter without detriment upon the next succeeding stage of his life. The physical changes involved in the unfolding of the SEX 145 life of sex have already been touched upon in a general way, in the discussion of the growth of the body. Little more need be said, so far as the purpose of this book is con- cerned. Though the physical capacity for parenthood is reached by boys about the middle of the " teen " period, or a little before that time; and by girls a year or two earlier still, yet in the full and complete sense, which means much more than the bare possibility of reproduction, it is not at- tained, as a rule, among peoples of the temperate zones at least, until some time later. So exacting a function re- quires years of preparation. It is true that many cases of maternity (and paternity too) occur long before the end of the teen age ; but, even where no moral question is involved, this is usually a regrettable fact, inasmuch as the whole sex- ual system is still in the process of upbuilding, and is not yet well able to bear the strain thus put upon it, without detriment to its subsequent efficiency; to say nothing of the other fact, that where parenthood occurs so early in life, it is almost certain to interrupt the process of education and throw the individual into the struggle of life before the preparation for that struggle has been completed. The results of premature reproduction among human beings are similar to those of premature fruit bearing among trees and plants. The parent organism is weakened, even if the prod- uct is not of an inferior type. On the other hand, the undue postponement of parent- hood is almost equally to be regretted. The proper care and nurture of children is the most strenuous and exact- ing of tasks. Nothing else makes such demands on the powers of body and mind. It should be undertaken, there- fore, when those powers are at their best; when the body is strongest and most vigorous; and, let me add, when love is most intense, when passion is deepest, and when courage, devotion, and optimism are at their zenith. If the social and economic conditions of our modern life are really such as to make marriage and the support of a home more and more difficult (except for the very rich, whose social aspira- 146 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE tions can all be gratified, and the low and ignorant, who have none to gratify) and if, as seems to be the case, mar- riage among the " middle classes " is tending to be post- poned more and more, then some means should be found for the improvement of those conditions. Other things being equal it is much better for any child that his parents should not be old enough to be his grandparents, but that they should be in the very prime and vigor of early matur- ity. Not only is it better for the child, but it is better also for the parents. We very properly recognize the tremen- dous influence of parents in moulding the character of chil- dren; but we should recognize also the tremendous influence of children in moulding the character of parents. It goes without saying that this influence is deepest and most en- during where parents are still in the vigor of their early maturity. Sexual criminality is a subject which one would willingly pass over in silence, but the facts forbid it. One would much prefer to close this chapter with a description of the natural and normal development of youthful love, its charm- ing bashfulness, its purity of motive, its idealization and adoration of its object, and its splendid reflex influence in heightening self-respect, strengthening character, and stimu- lating all worthy ambition.^ It would be most interesting to follow it through its course (which, as the proverb has it, " never runs smoothly ") until it culminates in honorable marriage, the establishment of such a home as is the pillar and ground of the state, and in the procreation and nurture of such children as are to grow into its best citizens. But one must recognize the fact that, side by side with the natural and normal, we find the unnatural and the ab- 1 " For indeed I knew " Of no more subtle master under heaven "Than is the maiden passion for a maid, " Not only to keep down the base in man, " But teach high thought, and amiable words "And courtliness, and the desire of fame, "And love of truth, and all that makes a man." — Tennyson, Idylls of the King. SEX 147 normal. And in that very period of life when motives are purest and love most unselfish, we find many cases of the grossest impurity and the most degraded sensuality. Coruptio optimi pessima. As the soil that will produce the finest grain will also grow the rankest weeds, so those very capacities and powers through which man approximates most closely to the divine, when perverted, bring him near- est to the threshold of hell. And so one records with deep pain the facts, that the curves of criminality in general, and of sexual criminality in particular, rise sharply during the period of youth; that the majority of prostitutes enter upon their vicious careers between the ages of fifteen and eighteen,^ and that all manner of abuses of the sexual func- tions are widespread among both boys and girls at this age. If it be true, as has so often been said, that all vice consists in the perversion of some normal function, or the abuse of some gift whose proper use is wholly good, it would be hard to find a better example of it than In this connexion. It would be difficult to exaggerate the beauty of youth- ful love, or its value as the ally of all that is best in art, in morals, and In religion; it would be equally difficult to exaggerate the ugliness of its perverted forms, in which it becomes the foul confederate of all that is earthly, sensual, devilish. And the supreme task of human society Is to pro- vide such nurture for childhood and youth that its beauty and wholesomeness may be sustained, and augmented from one generation to another. 1 Caldo, quoted by Hall, in Adolescence, New York, 1904, Vol. I, Ch. VL CHAPTER XI THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY IN NATURE AND ART The aesthetic faculty, including the power to distinguish the beautiful from the ugly, to feel pleasure in the former and to be disagreeably affected by the latter, and to create beautiful forms as embodiments of ideas, belongs probably to man alone among earthly beings. With one apparent exception,^ the things that are beautiful appear to make no special impression upon the lower animal mind. No evi- dence is at hand to show that a dog would enjoy his bone one whit the more for having it served on a platter of the rarest china and adorned with sprigs of parsley; or that the broncho of the foothills shares the thrill of emotion with which his rider gazes on the snow-capped Rockies before him. The lower animals appear to pass their lives on the plane of sense and representative imagery; whereas the mind of man performs the functions of appreciation and con- struction in accordance with the norms of truth, beauty, and goodness. Hence to man alone belong science, art, and morality. In spite of this, however, the new-born human being is virtually on a par with the lower animals so far as his actual power to make aesthetic judgments and to experience aes- thetic feelings is concerned. He surpasses them in the promise and potency of his nature, in what he may become, rather than in what he is. The human infant probably ap- 1 Among many of the lower animals the wooing of the female by the male in the mating season, is accompanied by much display, not only of strength and courage, but also of beauty, in form, color, and movement. I call this an apparent exception, because I am not at all sure that the phenomenon can be interpreted as an evidence of the possession by these animals of an aesthetic faculty in any proper sense of that terra. 148 THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY 149 predates as little as the dog or the horse the artistic setting of his breakfast, or the grandeur of the snow-clad moun- tains. And yet the difference between him and them is world-wide ; for, unlike them, he will by and by develop that appreciation, and the beauty of natural and artistic forms will make its appeal to his consciousness. He will do by and by what the animal never does, viz., arrange his food, his clothing, his dwelling, and his surroundings, so far as possible, in such a way as to minister, not only to his physi- cal comfort, but also to his aesthetic gratification. He will pronounce judgments on the works of men's hands, includ- ing his own, as to their beauty or ugliness, in accordance with standards and categories which he finds within the depths of his own being. In the course of development from childhood to maturity the feeling for the beautiful passes through some fairly definite stages of progress. Little children are pleased with pretty things, bright colors, rhythmic movements (well marked as to time) and sounds that rhyme together, even though the similarity of sound be obtained at the cost of absurdity or superficiality of meaning. Provided the colors be bright and gay, it matters little whether or not they blend or harmonize well in a total color scheme.* Provided there is rhythm in a series of movements, and similar sound endings in a series of words, it matters little whether the movements express any total idea, or whether the sounds are anything more than a jingle. With later childhood there comes the power to appreci- ate the beauty of larger complexes, of more involved totals, and of organisms that show vigor and grace in their forms or movements. Boys from nine to twelve years of age are usually fond of animals and birds. Towards the end of this period they begin to be aware of their inability to re- produce, in a drawing or a clay model, all that they are now able to see and appreciate In these living creatures about 1 Primitive races show the same fondness for bright colors and the same indifference to the relations of the colors in a total. ISO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE them, or in the trees and flowers, or other natural objects. Appreciation outruns expression. But it is in youth that the capacity to appreciate beauty in all its forms makes the most marked advance. The dis- position to respond to the charm of the beautiful is greatly quickened, and the inability to give fitting expression to the feeling for the beautiful is most painfully realized. Ex- ternal nature awakens an interest not previously felt. The flora and the fauna, the sky, the woods, the winds and waters, storm, sunshine, and the procession of the seasons, exert upon the soul a mystic and potent fascination. There is in many cases a strong feeling of fellowship with the things of external nature ; a feeling which seems closely akin to the religious sentiment, and which we may agree with Lancaster in regarding as a very natural point of departure for the culture of the religious life.^ Turning now from nature to art I am inclined to say, in view of all the evidence, that strictly speaking, in the deeper sense, the love of the beautiful, and the enthusiasm for the creations of the artistic faculty, really awaken with the ado- lescent years. It is quite true, as I have said, that pretty things, both natural and artificial, are admired by children, and used as playthings ; and that in the later years of child- hood especially, there are many efforts to copy or reproduce some of these things. But the instinct of imitation, and the love of bright colors, obvious rhymes, and rhythmical move- ments, will account for the greater part, if not the whole, of these phenomena. But in the adolescent years the sources of aesthetic feeling seem to deepen and expand, so that beauty in all its forms makes a new appeal and calls forth a stronger and more intense response. It very often happens that these newly awakened artistic enthusiasms are short-lived, at least in their intenser forms, and that it is only the more sober after-images that persist throughout life, but the interesting point for us is that the 1 Lancaster, Psychology and Pedagogy of Adolescence, Fed. Sem., Vol. V, 1897. THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY 151 enthusiasms did awaken, and thrilled the soul and gave new interest to life, even though but for a time. They can be called evanescent only in the sense that they do not in every case maintain themselves permanently at the high water mark of youthful enthusiasm. A boy of my acquaintance spent twelve months, covering part of his fourteenth and part of his fifteenth year, in European travel. He was interested practically in every- thing he saw, but soon developed an especial interest in the great cathedrals, fine college buildings, and other noble specimens of old-world architecture. Having once caught the fever, it was marvellous with what abandon he threw himself into the study of this subject. Whatever else he might miss, he would never willingly pass a cathedral by. He would spend hours at a visit, and if possible, make re- peated visits to each one. He made a collection of photo- graphs and other pictures of these buildings. He asked numberless questions, of those who knew, regarding their history. He bought books, and read them, on the various styles of architecture. He wrote in his diary elaborate ac- counts of these great structures. He gathered together so much knowledge on this subject that he could quite well have delivered lectures that would have been worth hearing. And yet, after his return from Europe, he soon ceased to talk much on this subject, and apparently lost his interest in European cathedrals. It would be a great mistake, how- ever, to suppose that this entire experience was valueless be- cause of its evanescent character. It is quite true that he shows no signs of becoming a great architect, or even a superior judge and critic of this form of art. And yet no doubt he got what he really needed at that particular stage of his career, viz., a period of unrestrained enjoyment of aesthetic experience. His spirit revelled for a time in this form of beauty, and there is no question whatever that all the remaining years of his life will be richer and more fruitful than they otherwise could have been, on account of that experience. Here was 152 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE a natural appetite, of which he was scarcely conscious until his eyes fell upon the noble lines of Exeter cathedral which, as it happened, was the first one he visited. This had the double effect of both awakening the appetite and beginning to satisfy it, and that double process was continued by every one of the long list of cathedrals, colleges, and other buildings, visited during his tour. This case is typical of what is happening every day among young people of this age. Such experiences as these consti- tute a part of a truly " liberal " education, in the very best sense of that term, an education in which there is no thought of results, or dividends, or even vocational values, but in which the spontaneous hunger of the soul is satisfied, and the native love of beauty for its own sake, absolutely di- vorced from every utilitarian consideration, finds its outlet and its opportunity. Many other instances might be given of the passionate and powerful interest taken by young people in subjects of an aesthetic character. A number of careful observations touching their attitude towards music convince me that there is in many cases a sudden accession of interest in this sub- ject soon after the beginning of the teens, so pronounced and so powerful as almost to amount to a new birth of the aesthetic nature. I have in mind at this moment several concrete cases. In childhood these persons had received instruction in music, vocal or instrumental, or both, and had been required to practise regularly. The majority of them had given attention to their lessons, had practised diligently, and had made good progress, but had not shown any special enthusiasm for the subject. Their attitude might be described as neutral. They betrayed no great fondness, and no marked dislike, for music. They did their music lessons, as they did their work at school, as part of the accepted routine, and because it was required at their hands. And some of them made excellent progress. But when these same boys and girls were about fifteen or sixteen years of age a change became noticeable. They THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY 153: began to love music for its own sake, as was evident from their increased devotion of time and energy to it. They would remain at the piano or the violin far beyond the re- quired time. They voluntarily connected themselves with musical organizations, such as orchestras, chorus choirs, bands, string quartettes, and the like. They attended con- certs and operas for the music's sake. They studied the compositions of the great masters, and even attempted something in the way of musical composition on their own account. They began to show signs of displeasure in bad musical jingles, and a certain amount of real discrimina- tion in regard to the musical qualities of a piece. They begged to have their musical instruction continued, and in some cases found ways of earning money for themselves, in order to pay for these lessons. In many other ways these boys and girls gave evidence of the deep and abiding hold that music was taking upon their interest and affection. In a letter written by one of them, who was about fourteen or fifteen at the time, a joy in music, and a spiritual exaltation in the pursuit of it, are evinced, for the expression of which she finds no terms too extrava- gant. She ransacks her vocabulary to give utterance to her feelings. She longs to be a great musician, a great composer, a great leader, giving out to others the joy and uplift that comes to her own soul In music. That girl has since become the wife of a business man and the mother of a small family. She is still fond of music, plays the organ In the village church, cultivates music in her own home, and teaches it to her children. Beyond this limited area her adolescent visions have not, so far, been realized, and yet, to say that they were of no value would be a very hasty and superficial conclusion. Of the development of the taste for pictorial art almost the same thing may be said as has just been said about music. As I have elsewhere pointed out,^ " the first performance of a child with pencil and paper is merely an aimless scrlb- ''■ psychology of Childhood (7th ed.), Boston, 1909, Ch. VI. 154 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE ble, involving, on the mental side, nothing more than an outflow of energy, with possibly a vague sensori-motor imitation of movements made by older persons in his pres- ence"; it passes on from that to become imitative in the deeper sense, and also more clearly representative, i.e., there is a growing desire to transfer to paper the images that are in the mind. The development of the drawing Instinct may be roughly divided into three periods, the impulsive- imitative, the representative, and the constructive. The first is characteristic of infancy, the second of childhood and early boyhood, and the third of later boyhood and youth; though the three tendencies overlap. In regard to the feeling for the beautiful, or aesthetic appreciation, youth presents an interesting contrast to child- hood. The little child is pleased with brightly colored pictures, even gay and gaudy, and with pictures that rep- resent, as far as ordinary pictures may, the movements of living beings or machines. Boats sailing, express trains at full speed, men ploughing, horses drawing vehicles, chimneys belching forth vast quantities of thick, black smoke; and other things of this kind. A small child would not be likely to show much interest in a landscape painting unless it con- tained animals or human beings, and then his interest would be in these rather than in the landscape as such. More- over, the interest of the little child in things of this sort is almost entirely of the sensuous character. But in the early teens beauty in the deeper sense secures recognition and appreciation. The power to appreciate, indeed, as I have said, increases so rapidly as to outrun the power to produce. Many adolescents lose interest in draw- ing for this very reason; they realize their inability to ex- press all that they feel and think. This is quite in accord with what we know of youth in other connexions, and with what is to be expected from the general laws of individual development. Growth, both physical and emotional. Is so rapid that the development of skill and expressive power Is not able to keep pace with It. At no other time in life, THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY 155 perhaps, Is one so conscious of his utter inability to express all that he feels, whether by speech or by any other of the media of expression, as in the years from fourteen to eight- een. Feeling and sentiment are powerful, but the power to direct these along motor lines, and to give them expression in motor terms, is not yet highly developed. According to Lukens ^ and others, this relative impotence of the power of expression remains throughout nearly the whole period of the teens, though the discrepancy grows less towards the end of the period. But we may speak more definitely than this in regard to aesthetic appreciation. The dependence of the interest on movement and figure in the object grows somewhat less, and such forms of the beautiful as are shown in landscape with- out figures become more interesting. Quieter colors also are sought and appreciated, rather than the bright and gaudy hues that hold the attention of the child. Movement at- tracts more through its gracefulness and less through its accent ; form appeals in a new and larger way, through the totality of the impression it makes, and through the mean- ing of that totality. Symmetry and balance, as shown in the grace and beauty of a tree, a bird, a poem, a melody, as a whole, have more to do with the feeling of pleasure than before. Needless to say, the human form, with the added charm of graceful draperies, begins to exert a spell not heretofore dreamed of. This charm lies not in one single feature, but in the combination of features in the total. Color, of the eyes, of the cheeks, of the lips, hands, hair, teeth, and even of the garments; form, including proportion, as in the rela- tion between the height and the breadth of the figure, and the relative lengths of the parts; the curves of the physical outline, and the comparative size of the various features and parts in relation to one another and to the whole; movements, such as the length of the step in relation to the length of the limbs and of the whole body, the swing of the 1 Lukens, A Study of Children's Drawings, Fed. Sem., Vol. IV, 1896. 156 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE arms, the carriage of the head, the manner of flexion in every joint and of contraction and relaxation in every muscle ; all these, as well as the habitual tones of the voice, and all the countless subtle nuances of manner and bear- ing, are factors in the determination of the measure of physical charm, as embodied in the human personality. That there exists a close relation between this awakening of the aesthetic nature and the unfolding of the sex life, with which it is contemporary, there can be no doubt. Many writers have referred to this rather obvious connexion, as well as to that between the artistic and the religious instincts ; and some ^ have explained it by finding the common root of all these instincts in " the fundamental quality of erethism found in every animal cell." Though the explanation is hardly specific enough to be of much service, there is no reason to doubt the existence of a common feature in these interests. Sexual love, the passion for beauty, religious fervor, and moral enthusiasm, alike require the concept of value in the object to which the feeling is directed. In each case there is the idea of an object, to which is attributed soipe quality or qualities that are regarded as excellent in some one or other of the great meanings of that term. In one case it is an object in external nature, animate or in- animate, in which beauty, of form, or color, or movement, is to be found. In another it is some product of the hand of man, in which, as in the previous case, some noble idea or conception is embodied. Again it is a human form, which impresses the beholder by its beauty of outline and its grace of motion, reinforced, as we are usually ready to believe, by deeper, non-sensuous qualities, having equal or greater value than the sensuous. Moral excellence, espe- cially, enhances physical charm. " Handsome is that hand- some does." Indeed, it is a testimony to the close con- nexion between art and morals, that goodness and physical ugliness are seldom thought together if it is possible to think them apart, as it usually is. IE. g.— Scott, Sex and Art, Am. Journ. Psy., Vol. VII, 1895-6. THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY 157 Finally, in the higher forms of religion, the supreme ob- ject of devotion and worship is thought of as possessing in Himself all excellences in their most perfect form, includ- ing, in a sense, even physical beauty. For does He not clothe himself with light as with a garment? And are not all the beautiful things that nature presents to our view just a manifestation of Himself under forms that can be apprehended by the human understanding? Provided the sex feeling be understood in the broad sense in which we have defined it, as an emotion that radiates through all the life of feeling, and exerts its influence far beyond the limits of those experiences that are ordinarily associated with the term, there is no reason to doubt its inti- mate connexion with the feeling of the beautiful. This wider conception of the matter is justified by the fact that the attraction of the opposite sex extends beyond the merely physical, and includes many traits that must be ranked as purely aesthetic. And while I have no doubt at all that personal beauty, enhanced by personal adornment, on the part of one sex, acts as a stimulus to the passion of the other, I am equally sure that it acts, also, as a preventative against the unbridled indulgence of that passion. For there is something sacred In real beauty; something that evokes a sort of reverence and worship, and puts to silence the coarser and more licentious promptings. That love and beauty are associated naturally and strongly in the human mind is further evident from the fact that the chief forms of creative art have been used largely in the portrayal or the celebration of the passion of love. Love is the theme of a large part of our poetic literature, of our music, and of the pictorial art. And the true artistic quality of a poem, a song, or a picture, is to be measured to a large degree by the success of the artist in portraying or expressing love in its higher and more ideal forms, in which its grosser elements are taken up and sublimated. The classic exposition of the culmination of this process is to be seen in the Symposium of Plato, where Socrates and iS8 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE his companions follow the process of love as it goes on from the desire for some single beautiful object, through generalization after generalization, until the climax is crowned in the pure love of absolute beauty as such. " He who has been instructed thus far in the things of love, and who has learned to see the beautiful in due order and suc- cession, when he comes toward the end will suddenly per- ceive a nature of wondrous beauty — a nature which in the first place is everlasting, not growing and decaying, or wax- ing and waning; in the next place not fair in one point of view and foul in another, or at one time or in one relation or at one place fair, at another time or in another relation or at another place foul, as if fair to some and foul to others, or in the likeness of a face or hands or any other part of the bodily frame, or in any form of speech or knowledge, or existing in any other being, as for example, in an animal, or in heaven, or in earth, or in any other place, but beauty only, absolute, separate, simple, and everlasting, which, without diminution and without increase, or any change, is imparted to the ever-growing and perishing beauties of all other things. He who, under the influence of true love ris- ing upward from these, begins to see that beauty, is not far from the end. And the true order of going or being led by another to the things of love, is to use the beauties of earth as steps along which he mounts upwards for the sake of that other beauty, going from one to two, and from two to all fair forms, and from fair forms to fair practices, and from fair practices to fair notions, until from fair notions he arrives at the notion of absolute beauty, and at last knows what the essence of beauty is." ^ The degree to which love is affiliated with beauty, and beauty in its highest forms stimulates, controls, and deter- mines love, is no unworthy gauge of our civilization. Where nature is appreciated, where art is refined, where music is spiritual, and where goodness is attractive,' there love is exalted, redeemed of its coarseness, and robbed, not 1 Jowett's translation. THE APPRECIATION OF BEAUTY 159 of its sensuous but of its sensual qualities. To the mind of a youth whose privilege it has been to live in such an at- mosphere the maiden of his choice appears as the best em- bodiment within his acquaintance of the ideal of beauty, in this higher and wider sense, and as the one who best among finite beings satisfies his desire for the beautiful and for communion therewith. What I should like to make clear, in all this, is the neces- sity, here, as in other branches of our subject, of making our interpretations in terms of value, and our valuations in terms of personality. Aesthetic values, like moral and reli- gious values, are in the last analysis idealistic and personal. Beauty is an idea, ever struggling to express itself in all the beautiful forms of nature and art, and never, in finite experience, wholly succeeding. The conception of perfect beauty, of which this or that beautiful thing is but a partial and limited expression, hovers over each aesthetic phase of human effort, giving to it its stimulus, and at the same time making it impossible for any finite product to yield absolute satisfaction. This is because beauty is an idea, and perfect beauty an ideal, not to be explained on naturalistic grounds, but as a " revelation from spirit to spirit." Or, to quote again from the distinguished writer to whom the above phrase belongs, " it is only in a theistic setting that beauty can retain its deepest meaning, and love its brightest lustre." 1 Never are we more ready, and never more fit, than in youth, to define beauty in this ideaHstic fashion, and to regard every beautiful form, either as a quality of the spirit, or as a product of its activity. And so art and morals and religion draw together, and become allies in the noblest of all causes, that of emancipating the soul of youth from the bondage of sensuality, and enabling it to take hold upon the things that are unseen and eternal. 1 Balfour, Theism and Humanism (GifiEord Lectures 1914), Lect. X. CHAPTER XII THE MORAL LIFE A good deal may be said in support of the proposition that the most certain differentia marking off the human be- ing from all lower forms of being on this earth is his pos- session of a moral nature, involving the capacity of moral discrimination and the consciousness of moral obligation. The intellectual life, though in its higher manifestations a peculiarly human prerogative, Is nevertheless, on Its lower and simpler levels, shared by the brutes; but there Is no conclusive evidence of their participation in the conscious- ness of moral responsibility. Many of them, it Is true, are richly endowed with instincts of various sorts, and with natural feelings of affection and aversion. Like us, they show fear in some circumstances, anger in others, love in others. Like us, they perform many acts, which, at first instinctive, become habitual through repetition. Some of these instinctive reactions serve their purpose in the pre- servation of the individual, and others In the preservation of offspring or in the promotion of the interests of the social group, the herd or the flock. The marriage relation, the family circle and the social order, all find their parallels and counterparts among the brutes, who establish homes, rear families, and maintain a community life In many cases re- markable for the completeness of its organization. Paren- tal affection is exceedingly strong among many of them, and they will make any sacrifice, endure any hardship, and fight to the last drop of their blood. If need be. In defence of their young. Most species of birds and animals pay scrupu- lous regard to personal cleanliness, and to the sanitation of their homes, whether these be nests, dens, or holes in the i6o THE MORAL LIFE i6i earth. Most of them are amenable to domestic and social discipline among themselves, and to training at the hands of man. The loyalty and devotion with which they respond to kindly treatment are proverbial. Yet in spite of all these admirable and interesting quali- ties, it is more than doubtful whether the lower animals could be called moral beings, within the proper meaning of that term. For the essence of morality is the capacity of apprehending a good which is good in itself, and not for any merely extraneous reason, and of deliberately seeking that good, not through compulsion, training or habit merely, but on its own account. A moral nature involves the power to conceive ideals and to strive for their realization, which means the power to think of personality and life as possess- ing a meaning and value apart from the satisfaction of any immediate need of the organism or the gratification of any particular or transient desire. The most highly developed " conduct " of the animals, even the noblest of them, seems deficient in these distinctive and essential features of genuine morality. To this the reply might be made, that it all applies with equal force, and in some cases with even greater force, to the human being, at least in the first period of his life. The human child is no more conscious of ideals, and of an abso- lute good, and of moral obligation, than the lower animal. He appears to be even less scrupulous about his actions than many young animals ; his behavior seems even less controlled by definite ends than theirs, and quite as easily explained by compulsion, training and habit. This may all be freely conceded, and yet the vital dif- ference between the two remains unimpaired. For the im- portant point is that the human child is capable of moral ideals, moral motives, and moral conduct, in their full sense, as is shown by his attainment of these during the course of his development. That the moral nature builds itself up gradually, on the basis of instinct, by means of experience and training, is no impugnment of its reality. If the human 1 62 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE child can ever come into the full possession of his moral birthright, by dint of no matter how much instruction and training, then his moral supremacy is established, and the value of that training and instruction proven. In the moral life there are two principal features or marks; first, certain requirements are laid on the Individual in reference to conduct; and second, a response is made by the individual to those requirements. In that conduct which is moral in the truest sense, that is, from which every ad- ventitious element has been eliminated, the requirements are self-imposed, and the response is made without external constraint. Now in childhood neither of these marks is fully realized. The requirements are made by external authority, and the child's response to these requirements is partly through physical direction, partly through Instinct, and presently through habit. Pleasure and pain, in milder or severer forms, as the necessities of the case may require, are made to play their part in showing him what to do and what to avoid doing. And so he obtains his first ink- ling of what is right and what Is wrong in the concrete, by observing and remembering what Is required of him by those who have authority over him. He begins his moral education by learning to distinguish the things which he is told to do from the things which he Is told not to do. " And as he receives these commands and prohibitions usually from persons for whom he entertains strong affection, and in whose wisdom he reposes implicit confidence, it is not at all unnatural that powerful links of association should be forged in his mind between the right and the commanded on the one hand, and between the wrong and the forbidden on the other; and that the childish judgment should begin to form itself, provisionally and tentatively, ' Perhaps the right means, what I am told to do, and the wrong what I am told not to do.' " ^ But by degrees he goes far beyond the point to which these Ideas would lead him. Many circumstances 1 Tracy, The tittle Child and the Moral Order, Proc. Ontario Educa- tion Assoc, 191 6. THE MORAL LIFE 163 suggest to his mind the thought that the right cannot be ab- solutely identified with the commanded, nor with that which brings pleasant consequences, nor the wrong with that which is forbidden, or with that which brings painful consequences. He finds that the right, the commanded, and the pleasant, cannot by any means be uniformly identified with one an- other. By the time he reaches the adolescent age, if not before, the conceptions of right and duty have become fairly well detached, in his mind, from everything adventitious; they have ceased to be dependent on any conditions outside them- selves, and have secured recognition on their own account. The mind is beginning to comprehend the meaning of moral principles as distinguished from arbitrary rules, and of ab- solute as distinguished from relative values. It takes in the momentous idea that there is such a thing as a right that does not depend on external conditions, such as laws or consequences, but is in itself right, and that there is such a thing as a duty which is not made such by any external command, but would be one's duty even though it were not commanded at all ; that there is such a thing as a good that is not made so by its power to produce good things, but is in itself good, shining, as Kant says, like a diamond, by its own light. This marks the movement from external to inner morality. It is in adolescence that the most rapid advances are made towards a real inner interpretation of duty, in which it is recognized and accepted as carrying its own credentials and standing in no need of " sanctions " of any external sort whatever. This position is not gained in a day; it is not attained fully in the period of youth, if indeed, at any time in life. But yet there is no doubt that its most marked development takes place between the ages of twelve and twenty-four, the age when life-ideals take form, and judgments are made as to the absolute worth of this or that type of character. It is the age of passionate devotion to those ideals, and to those persons in whom they seem most nearly realized. And so it comes home to the 1 64 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE mind that these things are not made good and worthy by anything external to themselves ; they are good and worthy in themselves alone. And with this the categorical impera- tive, with all its momentous consequences for life and char- acter, becomes consciously and reflectively operative in the life of action and choice. More than once already we have referred to the fitful- ness of adolescent character, and pointed out some of its causes. These causes operate also in the moral sphere. Some of the highest aspirations, and some of the lowest lapses, may be found in the same person. No ideal is too exalted to be cherished by persons at this age; and it must be admitted, on the other hand, that there is scarcely any excess, scarcely any surrender to the lower tastes and pas- sions, of which instances may not be found among the records of adolescent life. All this proves, of course, not that youth is superlatively good or extremely wicked, but only that it is capable of all goodness (for a man's true measure is to be found in his ideals) and at the same time defective, as yet, in that control and balance of character which is the pre- rogative of rational beings. We may expect, then, to find many extremes in the moral life of the adolescent. His conscience, for the most part sane and reasonably sensitive, may at times appear cal- lous and depraved on the one hand, or morbidly scrupulous and exacting on the other. That lack of breadth and per- spective, characteristic of the immature mind, combined with an accession of moral idealism common in youth, may result, and often does result, in a superfine sensitiveness about truth, honor, and fidelity to promises; and infinite pains are often taken to tithe the mint and anise and cummin, and to make sure that no jot or tittle is left undone, of all that the most exact interpretation is able to find, in the duty of the moment. The writer distinctly remembers a period in his own life when he could not bring himself to utter any words that were not literally and exactly true, under any circumstances whatever, without great pain of conscience; THE MORAL LIFE 165 even though the words in question might be a perfectly harm- less jest, by which no one was deceived, and no harm done. There is in persons of this age an " appetite for the ab- solute " as someone has called it, that is impatient of every- thing that looks like compromise, especially on moral ques- tions, and Is not satisfied with anything short of perfection. But " perfection " is inadequately interpreted. It is taken in a rigid, mechanical, quantitative sense. No allowance is made for progress, hope, and expansion, from day to day. Everything must be perfect now, numerically and quantita- tively so. It is not clearly seen that Ideals, from their very nature, are dynamic, expansive and appealing, that their function Is to beckon and allure rather than to drive and exact. Hence all those curious cases, recorded In answers to questionnaires, of meticulous scrupulosity of conscience, that worries and frets over the most Insignificant and un- intentional transgressions. In so far as all this is the outcome of the habit of self- examination and introspection carried to an extreme, It should be discouraged. It is Inevitable, of course, that with the transition from childhood to youth, attention should be turned more to the self, and that the subjective world, the realm of feeling and thought and desire, should share with the objective world In arousing the Interest of the Individ- ual and In occupying his thought. But where this Is per- mitted to run to excess In exaggerated self-scrutiny, the re- sult Is almost certain to be disastrous. Natural growth is all-sided and symmetrical, engaging all the powers and facul- ties of mind and body, directing them towards and exercising them upon that which Is without as well as that which Is within. Undue concentration upon one's own Inner life, especially upon one's feelings, moods and fancies, tends to their exaggeration, to the paralysis of the spontaneities of volition, and to the obscuration of interest In the outer order, both natural and social. A conscientious youth, whose ideals are high, and whose longing is for moral achievement, should he spend too much time in the process 1 66 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE of introspective analysis, dissection of his own motives, and self-diagnosis, Is likely to regard himself in a too unfavor- able light, and to believe himself much worse, morally, than he really Is ; exactly in the same way as certain persons, who have acquired the habit of brooding over their physical con- dition, and studying the symptoms described in patent medi- cine advertisements, find It easy to conclude that they are the victims of well-nigh every disease known to medical science. The cure for both is not In patent medicines, either for the body or for the mind, but In more of the outward look, a larger absorption in what lies out-of-doors, more genuine interest in the joys of others, and even in their sorrows, and, perhaps most Important of all, more activity, more directed activity, having Interesting ends in view, and requiring physi- cal exertion and mental concentration. Moral as well as physical hypochondria Is traceable In large measure to self- absorption, and the most effectual method of Its correction lies in setting up a counter-current, a stream of interests and activities flowing in the opposite direction, and exerting the " expulsive power of a new affection." Not only do extreme self-depreciation and self-condem- nation result in the paralysis of vigorous and healthful ac- tivity; but conversely, vigorous and healthful activity, by diverting attention from the self, has the effect of breaking up this morbid self-distrust and self-contempt. Hypercon- sclentlousness, which is often indicative of abnormal nerve- strain, and consists to a great degree in mere irritability, is to be corrected by a restoration of the proper balance be- tween the reflective and the volitional activities. But the opposite extremes show themselves also in adoles- cence, which, as we have said, seems to be the age of ex- tremes. Side by side with the most exaggerated conscien- tiousness, and the most passionate longing for moral recti- tude, there may be found powerful impulses to sins and crimes, that, in the period of childhood, would never have occurred to the mind, even in the remotest way. Many adolescents have testified to the shock and surprise they felt, THE MORAL LIFE 167 to find that suggestions of the most horrible crimes came as it were unbidden to their minds. It seems as though the adolescent discovers his own powers, both to do good and to do evil; and the discovery is sometimes as startling as the discovery that one is standing on the brink of a precipice. Nor does it always end in the mere thought or imagination of crime. It must be admitted that many crimes are com- mitted by adolescents, more, indeed, between the ages of fourteen and eighteen than in any other period of equal length up to maturity. It is interesting to note that the age in which the crime-curve reaches its apex, viz., about fifteen, is nearly coincident with the age in which the largest number of positive decisions in favor of the higher life are taken. The curve of conversion reaches its apex at about sixteen. It would appear as though the force of the moral and spiritual impulses, in both directions, culminates about the middle of the teens, and consequently we find here the greatest number of positive eruptions of the inner energies, both in the direction of the good and in the direction of the evil. Comparing youth with childhood in regard to these things, we find some interesting differences. Children up to the age of twelve or thirteen are prone to wilfulness and waywardness, to truancy, to thoughtless cruelty, and to faults of temper (all of which should perhaps be called faults rather than crimes) while boys and girls beyond that age are more likely to commit offences against the rights of prop- erty or of personality. Nearly half of all thefts are com- mitted by persons who are not yet of age; and the great majority between twelve and twenty-one.^ Crimes against property include not only theft, but wanton destruction of property as in the rough pranks of students in colleges and of pupils in high schools; and the practical jokes perpetrated by boys on Hallowe'en or any other occasion devoted by tradition and custom to this sort of pastime. Children 1 " Between twelve and fifteen,'' says President Hall, " theft leads all other forms of crime." Adolescence, Vol. I, Ch. V. 1 68 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE rarely think of this kind of thing, except in the way of thoughtless imitation; and in adult life it has in most cases so completely lost its charm that many of the frolics of youth seem as utterly silly and pointless as the antics of the proverbial March hare. More serious acts, such as de- struction of property by fire or by explosives, arise usually from the same inner tendencies, namely the love of excite- ment and the need of vigorous action and strong emotion, rather than from criminal motives in the strict sense. The same explanation accounts for most cases of intoxication at this age. In a vast number of cases the first drink was taken in the teens, and the highest number of first intoxica- tions would probably be found to occur about the sixteenth year. Some interesting differences are to be noticed between the sexes, in this as in other matters. As might be expected, boys are more likely to commit crimes of a violent or aggres- sive character, such as the destruction of property, or injury to persons. Petty theft, however, seems quite as common among girls as among boys, while petty deceptions and false- hoods are more so. Girls are more likely to steal things of an ornamental nature, such as jewelry or other personal ornaments, while acts of theft that require violence, and forcible deprivation of the owner of the property, are more common among boys. Girls are more prone to conceal the stolen article and tell lies about it than boys are ; though they have no monopoly of this vice. Boys, whose fighting in- stincts are much developed from puberty, may defend their possession of the stolen property with their fists, instead of concealing the article and diverting suspicion by falsehood. Girls, again, are much more prone to the vices of envy and jealousy than boys, on account of the fact that they value, much more highly than boys do, those personal gifts and graces which are likely to attract attention and win friends, whether of their own sex, or of the other. Regarding the vice of lying, the first thing to be noticed is that this vice, understood as the conscious perversion of the THE MORAL LIFE 169 truth, in statements made to others by word of mouth, in writing, or by any other sign which can be made the vehicle for the conveyance of ideas and judgments, and made with the intention to deceive, is much less common among young children than would appear on the surface. So many of their statements are untrue as a matter of literal fact, that the casual observer might easily conclude that they are greatly addicted to the vice of falsehood; but a very slight acquaintance with the mind of the child is suiScient to show that the majority of these false statements of children are made either through ignorance, or through the inability to distinguish between what has been vividly imagined, or even dreamed, and what has been actually experienced; or at all events without any real appreciation of the serious nature of the offence. In the teens, however, these palliatives are no longer available, and the guilt of trifling with the truth be- comes realized in full for the first time. Yet even now, at least in the earlier part of the period, the imagination is still responsible for many perversions of the truth. In some extreme cases the young adolescent shares with the little child the inability to distinguish between what has really oc- curred and what has only been fancied. Another point to be noticed is that many of the lies told by youths and maidens are closely connected with the con- sciousness of the self, and grow out of some situation that involves the interests of the self. Self-esteem and its base counterfeit, self-conceit, the instinct of self-defence, and the fault of selfishness, the desire to be thought well of by others, and the desire to be thought superior to one's companions at school and elsewhere, the disposition to be envious of others who outstrip us, and to be jealous of those who seem likely to eclipse us in the regard of others, all these are prolific sources of falsehood; and they all are impossible apart from the qualities of self-consciousness. The same is prob- ably true of the so-called heroic lie, in which one person, in order to shield another, will falsely assume the guilt that belongs to that other, either by making a directly false con- I70 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE fession, or by remaining silent when a word would vindicate his innocence. This very peculiar kind of falsehood-motive, it will be observed, becomes possible only when self-con- sciousness and the social consciousness are somewhat de- veloped; and it appears to be the result of a tacit assump- tion that to suffer in this way for others is a sign of true nobility of personal character. This leads naturally to the discussion of those crimes that affect personality in a still more intimate and vital way. In a previous chapter we have tried to show how powerfully the self-feeling and self-consciousness are accentuated and come into prominence with the advent of puberty. The currents of the psychic life seem now to shoot together as never before, and impart to the mind a unity of outlook and a singleness of direction that stand in contrast to the rela- tively ununified and uncentralized mental life of the child. This focussing of consciousness is conditioned to a large extent on those new energies and tendencies that come with puberty. But the center of the focussed lines is not a self that is merely individual but a self that stands in the closest relation to other selves, and finds its own life, and the in- terests that make it worth while, in those relationships. And just because the relationships referred to are so noble and pure in their true forms, their abuse constitutes perhaps the basest and most degrading of moral delinquencies. While crimes against property rights are more prevalent in early adolescence, crimes against persons are more com- mon in the later years of the period. And among all the temptations that beset this age, perhaps no other is quite so powerful as the temptation to misuse the sex relation- ship. Where offences of this sort occur in childhood, they are usually due, I think, to ignorance of what is involved, and are committed in the entire absence of any genuine sex- conceptions, properly speaking. Their prevention demands watchfulness, hygienic treatment of the body, and abundance of natural and normal exercise, as in play, together with a pure and exalted social environment, in which respect Tor THE MORAL LIFE 171 personality, whether in oneself or in others, is steadily in- culcated from the earliest years. Offences against sexual morality committed in the teens stand upon a different footing. They cannot be assumed to be done in the same thoughtless innocence as in childhood. By this time most boys and girls have acquired some know- ledge of the sex relations of individuals, and of the sexual functions of the organism. There has also developed a cer- tain degree of feeling and a certain vividness of imagery in reference to the persons of others. It is exceedingly fortu- nate, from the standpoint of social morality, that modesty is a conspicuous quality of youth, and that this quality be- comes more highly developed in that very period of life when it is most needed, to balance and hold in check the growing passions of our nature. One can hardly think without a shudder, of what the moral life of human beings would be like, were the passions and appetites of adolescence, to say nothing of the other periods of life, wholly free to exert their power and sway the conduct of individuals, with- out any such counterpoise as is provided in this adolescent timidity. Among those crimes that are committed against persons, suicide may be included, as the extreme form of crime against the person of the self. This crime is not so common among the young, whose life as a rule has not yet been embittered by the " slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," as among persons of mature years ; and yet even childhood and youth are not without examples. When it does occur among young children, it seems to be devoid of anything approaching an adequate motive, for it is not the child whose life is really destitute and miserable who puts an end to it by his own hand; it is far more likely to occur among those pampered and spoiled children whose every wish is gratified, and who are permitted to indulge every mood and caprice to the full, and to give free rein to anger, resentment, and all such feel- ings, upon every fancied slight or wrong. When the act of self-destruction is committed in the ado- 172 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE lescent period, the case is somewhat different. Here the stress and strain of puberty has to be reckoned with. This is a new burden, from which childhood is happily free. It is sometimes a very serious matter, especially in girls, as we have already remarked. And it appears as a matter of fact that suicide in the teens is rather more common among girls than among boys. The force of emotions previously un- known, the new introspection, self-analysis, and brooding, common now, sometimes become so strong as to throw the whole character out of balance, override the barriers of self-control, and issue in the most ill-advised and foolish acts. In some cases this disturbance of the poise of life is so ag- gravated as to amount to a real impairment of the individ- ual's sanity. But there are also numerous other causes, among which possibly the most common is a manner of life which is morally unhygienic; too early an acquaintance with the lux- uries and excitements of life, which leave the boy or the girl nervously overtired, mentally nauseated, and satiated before the time with the mere sensuosities of life. Society, fine clothes, fashion and excitement, are, for children at least, unnatural, and should play the very smallest part in their lives. Another cause which sometimes leads to this sad result is the melancholy to which adolescence is liable, and from which childhood is almost wholly free. This melancholy may be religious in its origin, and result from brooding over the concerns of one's spiritual life. Or it may be due to that Introspection which is so common now, and in which all manner of strange fancies may be entertained as to one's own unworthiness, impurity, unfitness for the society of the pure and good, and the like. It may be the effect of an over- sensitiveness regarding one's own achievements, and one's standing in the opinion of others. Such brooding may be- come a habit which, long indulged, may lead to despair, and even to self-destruction. Taking now, a broad view of this whole matter of juvenile THE MORAL LIFE 173 delinquency, it must in strict justice be said that the word " crime " does not mean quite the same thing when we use It in reference to the conduct of an immature person, as in reference to the conduct of an adult. In the adult, crime is more likely to be premeditated, and " with malice afore- thought." The so-called " crimes " of children are usually quite devoid of these two characteristics. They are neither premeditated nor malicious. They are done through im- pulse, through imitation, or through a sudden burst of temper. They are done in ignorance of their real nature and effects, and are no proof of a depraved character. In a lesser degree this may be said also of the crimes of youth. Many of them are the outcome of suggestion, imagination, the tendency to imitate (hence the moral danger of " yellow " literature, and of the dramatic representations of criminal acts), the impulse to vigorous action, and the love of the adventurous, the spectacular, and the startling. Many of them are the outcrop of failings that lean to virtue's side. But their most noticeable feature is the ab- sence of any really sinister motive. This is why so many of them are unaccountable from the standpoint of adult reasoning. If a boy steals money, it is not to hoard it, nor even to spend it on himself; if he destroys property, it is not through malice, but through the love of a prank or pastime. Two cases well known to the writer serve to illustrate this. A boy stole a sum of money from his father's desk, but proceeded at once to get rid of it as rapidly as possible by the most lavish expenditure on sweetmeats, which he distributed from day to day with profuse generosity among his schoolmates. There was apparent neither any desire to hoard his treasure nor to spend it in selfish indulgence. In fact, it was very difficult to guess at his motive. Possi- bly he was not very clear in his own mind as to the reason of his act. It may be remarked by the way that children often seem totally unable, even under the most skilful ques- tioning, to give any intelligible explanation of their conduct. 174 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE This would indicate that the reasons are not clear in their own minds, which is exactly what one would expect, in view of the impulsive nature of much of their conduct. In the case of the boy referred to above, who, so far as was known, had not committed any other act of like kind, in all prob- ability the theft was committed in the first place on some such sudden, irrational impulse, and the subsequent lavish generosity was the expression of a very natural desire to do something striking, and to attract attention, and gain popu- larity and power among his comrades. Such motives as these, not reasoned out, but potent nevertheless beneath the surface, are common with boys of this age. At all events the case did not appear to be one showing essential depravity, or any real perversity of motive. The second case was one of the most pathetic that ever came under my observation. A girl of fourteen, finding a baby carriage standing outside a departmental store in a large Canadian city, approached to peep at its occupant, a beautiful boy, nine or ten months old, whose mother had left him asleep In the carriage while she did her shopping inside. The girl, seized by a sudden Impulse which perhaps she herself could not have explained, wheeled the carriage away, with its sleeping occupant, passing along street after street In the direction of her own home, two or three miles away. When a little more than half way home she turned on to the railway track and proceeded to push the carriage along between the rails. Overtaken by a train while on a high embankment, she turned at a right angle and either wheeled the carriage down the steep bank, or let it run down of Itself. Which of these she did will probably never be known, as there were no witnesses, and no straight story could be got from the girl herself In the cross-examination. At all events the baby was found, lying dead In a culvert at the foot of the embankment, and the overturned carriage nearby. The case produced a tremendous sensation, and every effort was made to discover what possible motive the girl THE MORAL LIFE 175 could have had for such an extraordinary act, but entirely without success. Theories were rife in explanation of the affair, but no theory cleared up the mystery. The girl showed no abnormal symptoms, nor could any neurosis be discovered. The only explanation that approached plausi- bility was given by a psychologist, who suggested that in the first instance, the mother instinct, beginning to develop some degree of strength in the girl, took sudden shape at the sight of the baby face, and discharged itself along motor lines in the act of taking possession. Probably there was no definite purpose in her mind, and almost certainly no conception of the enormity of her act, and the anxiety and sorrow she was causing. While on the way it is quite pos- sible that these things began to dawn upon her, and then fear took possession of her, increasing to a veritable panic as she realized her position more clearly. Finding herself on the railway embankment, with a train approaching, she lost what little self-control and presence of mind was left, with the tragic results already described. I have dwelt upon these two cases because I believe that neither children nor adolescents are essentially criminal under normal conditions, though both children and ado- lescents, especially the latter, do as a matter of fact, commit many deeds that are criminal in their external character. But the motives essential to criminality, such as deep vin- dictiveness, hate, revenge, greed, lust, are not yet extant in the life at these ages. This is being now fairly well rec- ognized, and special provision is made, in most progressive communities, for dealing in separate courts and by alto- gether distinct methods with the crimes of childhood and early youth. The Commissioner of the children's court is not primarily a judge, but a counsellor, guide, philosopher and friend of the erring youngster. He aims not at all at retribution, but at reformation, inspiration, and encourage- ment to do better. He avoids making any accusation, or even suggestion of criminality, and seeks to awaken the desire and ambition after a respectable and worthy career. 176 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE It is a further question whether the same methods might not be more largely used also in the case of the majority of adult criminals ; but the discussion of this inviting theme lies beyond the scope of the present undertaking. Turning for a moment from the consideration of crime and punishment, as viewed from the standpoint of society, against whom the offence is committed, let us look at them from the standpoint of the offender. There are several interesting questions here, such as the conception of demerit, the willingness or unwillingness to make confession and restitution so far as possible, and the ideas entertained about punishment, and its function or place in the life. And first of all, it is a pleasure to be able to say that one does not find self-righteousness or inordinate moral self- complacency a conspicuous feature in childhood or youth as a general thing. It is quite true that self-conceit, in one form or another, is common enough in adolescence, but the subject is much more likely to make a display of his physi- cal powers or of his intellectual cleverness than of any virtues he may possess. I say it is a pleasure to be able to say this, for the peculiarity of the virtues seems to be that he who makes a boast of their possession is giving the best possible proof that he does not possess them. And so there are few things more attractive about childhood and youth than their unreadiness to make large claims in this direction. Where this reticence is most marked, it shows most clearly that the moral ideal entertained in the mind is high ; for the higher the ideal the less confidence is there in one's fitness to claim its realization. So also young people are as a rule fairly frank in con- fessing their faults, though, of course, there are many cases of stubborn refusal to admit the wrong, and many also of clever deception and concealment of the guilt. Multitudes of falsehoods are told in order to escape punishment, some- times through fear, sometimes through the feeling of shame. But It Is my conviction that this is due as frequently to un- wise handling of the child by the parent or teacher as to any THE MORAL LIFE 177 inherent contumacy on the part of the youthful offender. It is exceedingly rare that a boy or girl who has been ac- customed to that treatment that inspires confidence, shows sympathy, and understanding of the trials and temptations of youth, and provides guarantees of fair play and complete justice, will refuse to be equally frank and honest in the matter of admitting his own shortcomings. Indeed, cases are not by any means wanting, where young men and maid- ens have shown a strong desire to make known their faults and follies, their temptations and failures to resist, to some older person who would really sympathize and give counsel and help. It seemed as though this confidence and counsel added to the strength of the younger person that of the older, so that, for the burden of one there was the strength of two. Another outstanding feature in the character of most children and young people is their readiness to admit the need and the justice of punishment, not merely for others, which would be comparatively easy, but for themselves, which is not so easy. They deeply resent punishments which they regard as undeserved, and, therefore, unjustly inflicted; but where the guilt is real, they are ready to say that pun- ishment ought to be inflicted, and even to maintain that its effect upon them is salutary. They do not even plead for light punishment, but recognize that the penalty should fit the crime, even though it might be hard to bear. More- over, the normal adolescent, both boy and girl, seems to have reached that point In the understanding of the real nature of virtue, where the incongruity of holding out in- ducements to moral goodness is recognized. Young chil- dren are scarcely able to discriminate between what is in- trinsic and what is extrinsic in the matter of goodness, and to them it is hardly an anachronism that rewards should be given for " being good " ; but in youth this conception of goodness Is transcended, and virtue, purged of its mercenary associations, becomes its own reward. If we turn from the faults and crimes of youth to the 178 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE much more pleasant subject of its virtues and merits, we shall see, first of all, I believe, standing out in clear relief that most characteristic feature of this period of life, to which we might give the general name of aspiration. The ininds of youths and maidens are full of yearnings, to do great things, to achieve fame, to wield influence, to benefit others, to advance science, or art, or music, or morals, or religion. Or perhaps the yearning has no object that can be clearly defined, but the whole being seems fairly lifted up and inspired with the enthusiasm of life, and the desire after some greatest, noblest, and best, but as yet undefined end. Here, as elsewhere, the youth stands in a most interesting place, between childhood and maturity. In childhood he fancied many things, and made many plans, of what he would do and be later on ; but he probably never integrated all his fancies and plans into a single whole or life purpose, to which all special and particular undertakings should be subservient, and upon which they should all be focussed. In mature hfe, on the other hand, his life purpose has prob- ably either been definitely chosen, or he has submitted to the constraint of circumstances, and settled down to that course of action which was fixed for him by the accidents of his position and his ascertained capabiHties. But in the stage between these two, he has become capable of some- thing like a comprehensive conception of a life purpose, but has not yet been able to put this purpose to the test of experience, as to its practicability. And so there is room for the range of imagination, which explores unchecked all the untried fields, and for the full play of feeling and ardor, which carry the mind past all difficulties as though they were not. It is quite true that the native diffidence of most young people, and the fear of being ridiculed, prevents them from revealing to others the full wealth of their feelings or the splendor of their dreams. But if you once gain their confidence, so that they feel certain of your sympathy and know that you will respect that confidence, then you may be privileged with a view of the visions splendid by which THE MORAL LIFE 179 their inner lives are charmed and nourished. It matters but little, for our present purpose, whether these youthful longings ever find full satisfaction. The important thing is that they are cherished and dreamed over with eager de- sire, and that they are a source of inspiration to the youth- ful spirit. Herein lies their ethical worth and their educa- tional significance. Illustrations might be multiplied indefinitely to prove the reality of altruism in the heart of the adolescent. It is at this time of life that boys and girls begin to think with downright seriousness of their future vocation; and these thoughts and plans almost always include much more than their own personal advantage or gratification. Conversa- tion with these young persons on this subject, (to say noth- ing of other subjects) and the perusal of letters and essays written by them, leaves on the mind a deep and agreeable impression of their genuinely altruistic nature. They long to do good as well as to get good, to minister to others as well as to be ministered unto by others. No doubt youth is also egoistic, and so it should be. Healthy moral devel- opment requires, not the extinction of either of these qual- ities, but their due and proper balance, the one with the other; so that the ideal of the moral life, as it was expressed by Kant, may be realized: "Treat humanity, whether in thine own person, or in that of any other, always as an end, never as a means." If we consider the virtues of youth, then, over against its vices and follies, we shall find the same exuberance, the same fitfulness, and the same relative lack of control, in this case, as we found in that. The various impulses and in- stincts are not very well co-ordinated; and therefore, instead of holding them in their proper relation to one another with a steady hand, the adolescent is apt to give one of them full swing for a time, and then another. The equilibrium is unstable. The psychic forces are developing too rapidly to be kept completely in hand. As the vices of youth are not underlaid by motives essentially sinister, nor its crimes by i8o THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE deep-seated malice and hate; so the virtues of youth can hardly be described as the embodiment of moral principles thoroughly reasoned out and permanently rooted in the inner life. But stability of character is in the making, and ra- tional insight, and mastery of motive, are on the way. Those virtues most closely connected with the self receive a powerful stimulus in the new self-feelings that arise with puberty; but these feelings may also issue in selfishness, self- conceit, and arrogance. Under good conditions, however, they blossom out into genuine self-respect, personal honor, and a fine abhorrence of everything that would tarnish personal reputation or weaken personal character. Those virtues that more directly affect others, such as courtesy, truthfulness, honesty, loyalty, fidelity to promises, benevo- lence, sympathy, and purity, may show similar phases of irregular development. Young men and maidens sometimes betray a degree of incivility, and disregard for the feelings of others, that is startling. Under stress of sudden temp- tation there may be an indulgence of unworthy impulses that is very disappointing; and yet the general trend of the whole disposition may be distinctly good. Poise and balance of the character may be fully achieved later on. It seems to me that youth, in spite of much evidence that might appear to belie the statement, takes no special delight in trying to subvert the moral order as such. Indeed it is its innate respect for that order which constitutes the foundation upon which moral education may build. Among the external factors that make for the building of character at this period, none is more potent than the personality of those who form the social environment of the individual. This, of course, is true at every age; and one hesitates to say that it is more true at any one age than at any other, at least previous to maturity; but in the period of adolescence it is reinforced by the specially vigor- ous social instincts, and is broadened and deepened in its influence through the increased power of the mind to grasp the wider concepts. While children are influenced most THE MORAL LIFE i8i by particular acts, and by the general " atmosphere " of their social surroundings, and boys and girls by individuals for whom they have conceived a high regard, in the days of youth there is acquired the capacity to appreciate the claims of the social order, as well as to be drawn towards other persons because of their moral worth. In other words, youth is more discriminating than childhood in regard to the worthiness of persons to influence its life; and at the same time capable of receiving from those persons, when once they have been permitted to exert that influence, more profound and permanent impressions. And yet it is still true, even in the teens, that the most potent influence comes, not from abstract conceptions, but from living personal em- bodiments of the moral qualities. Hence the disposition to idolize certain individuals, and to allow them to influence us more strongly than others, a disposition deeply rooted in us all, passes now through one of its most interesting phases. Few persons traverse this period of their lives without set- ting up some hero, to whom they render a species of con- scious or unconscious worship. Hero worship that is discriminating and reasonable may be a very beneficent thing in shaping the character of the worshipper. For the moral effect of it is to predispose the youthful admirer to walk in the way of the person whom he admires. But clearly, as I have said, in order to be good in its results, it must be discriminating and reasonable; the former, to ensure that what is unworthy in personality shall not be permitted to impress character; the latter, in order that the attitude may not continue indefinitely as one of mere blind admiration and allegiance, but shall develop into intelligent loyalty to principles for their own intrinsic worth. CHAPTER XIII THE RELIGIOUS LIFE Many and various are the definitions that have been given of religion, in the course of its history; so many, indeed, and so various, as to arouse in some minds a sus- picion as to the possibility of giving to it any satisfactory definition at all. The phenomena that seem entitled to the name " religious " are so diversified in their character, and so intertwined with other phenomena in their manifestations, that it is difficult to set them apart by themselves or reduce them to any simple and single category. In spite, however, of the difficulty of defining religion, the reality of the religious consciousness is beyond all ques- tion. No arguments are needed to prove it a genuine en- dowment of man. History, which is the record of his doings; psychology, which is the scientific analysis of his na- ture; literature, in prose and verse, in which he has given expression to his inner thoughts and feelings, aspirations and beliefs ; and philosophy, in which he has tried to explain the ultimate significance of all reality and all experience, including his own; all these bear unanimous testimony to the reality of the religious faculty in man, and justify Mr. Herbert Spencer's contention that it is " as normal as any other faculty." ^ Even if it could be proven that the object of man's religious devotion bears little resemblance to the concepts that men have formed, and that it corresponds only in the remotest way to the descriptions and definitions which men have framed, It would still be necessary to explain this devotion, and to account for these concepts and defini- tions. The purpose of this chapter is not to argue theological questions, or to prove theological propositions, but to de- 1 Spencer, First Principles, Ch. I. par. IV. 182 THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 183 scribe some of the more important phenomena of the re- ligious life, with special reference to the period of adoles- cence; and this in the hope that the facts themselves may be suggestive of the most effective methods by which the re- ligious education of the adolescent may be carried on. On one point all are agreed, namely, that religion, what- ever it may involve in its details, has to do in its inmost essence with the relation between man and his Maker, or, more exactly, with man's attitude towards whatever he be- lieves to be the supreme reality in the universe. This state- ment is not intended to settle any question as to the nature of that supreme reality, or even to define man's relation thereto, but merely to point out the one essential thing that must be found in all religion, the irreducible minimum of the religious consciousness. Proceeding now from these initial postulates, that re- ligion involves man's attitude towards the Supreme Being, and that it is characteristic of man, all the world over and in all ages, to take up some positive attitude towards that Being, we may further remark that our main concern at present is not even with creeds or systems of religious be- lief, except in so far as they form part of the actual con- tent of the religious consciousness in the period under re- view. The truth or the falsity of any given article of faith is not under discussion, but it may be necessary to point out the effect on the entire religious development, of the acceptance of a given proposition as part and parcel of one's intellectual equipment. In other words, since the two terms in the religious re- lationship are God and Man, or the divine and the human, the whole subject may be viewed either from the transcen- dental or from the empirical side, either from the stand- point of its ultimate divine source, or simply as a system of ideas, feelings, beliefs, and actions, taking place, as a matter of fact, in the experience of the individual, and, therefore, as open to observation as any other phenomena of the psychic life. 1 84 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE The first of these two standpoints is that of the philoso- phy of religion, or speculative theology. The second, to which we confine ourselves, is the psychology of religion. From this point of view no controversial questions need arise, provided the facts are correctly observed and their interpretation logically warranted. The enquiry is con- cerned almost wholly with matters of fact. The interest is in actual religious experience; and the investigation gathers about such questions as these: What exactly is it that happens as a matter of fact among the phenomena of the psychic life when religious experience takes place? In what way are the thoughts, feelings and actions affected by, and concerned in, religious experience? In what way, and by what observable causes, does religion arise and develop in the lives of youths and maidens, and what are the salient features of that development? Again, these states and processes that make up the re- ligious life should not be looked upon as a separate and unique sort of phenomena, standing apart in a class by themselves, and differing in kind, as mental processes, from the other phenomena of the psychic life. The familiar classification of mental states into thoughts, feelings, and volitions, is ekhaustive. There is nothing outside of it, or beyond it. What we said of morality we now say of re- ligion. The analysis of the psychic life gives us, not thought, feeling, will, and religion, but simply thought, feeling and will. A man's religion, in so far as it is a matter open to observation, consists wholly and solely in the char- acter of his thoughts, feelings, and volitions, considered in relation to the things that are recognized as making up the content, or object matter, of religion. Again, religion manifests itself, not in any one of these to the exclusion of the others. Religion is not a matter of the intellect by itself, nor of the emotions alone, nor of the will alone. It belongs to all of these, for the very good reason, among others, that these belong together so em- phatically and so vitally that the one never occurs without THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 185 the others. There may be great variations in the relative prominence of these several factors in any total mental state, but no state Is purely cognitive, or purely emotional, or purely volitional. Religious experience, therefore, like all other experience, involves the intellect, the emotions, and the will. Let thought, feeling, and will be exercised in the highest way, about the highest objects, and you have re- ligion. Let a man think truly and clearly, with a strong appreciation of relative values; let him hold steadily before his mind the ends that are worthiest; let him pursue those ends with unflagging zeal and unwearied patience; and let him feel warmly and cordially towards those ends, and especially towards those persons (God and his fellow-men) who are involved in the conception of the ends; and you have a highly religious man. In briefer terms, religion means the knowledge, love, and service, of God, with all that is involved in that, and all that follows directly from it. Hence the psychology of religion does not differ from psychology in general as regards the character of the men- tal processes which are under investigation. These are the same in both cases. The psychology of religion is special and peculiar only in the sense that it directs its view to the great concept of God, as the supreme object of knowledge, love, and service, and to the manner in which all other ideas, feelings and actions are adjusted and correlated, in view of the supreme worth of this object. It Is also the study of the development of this idea in the mind of the child, and of the manner in which other interests are adjusted to this interest and other affections brought into harmony with this affection. In other words, if the entire life be viewed from that standpoint which is the highest of all, and the life's whole expression ordered in harmony with that, the religious life is the result. Religion is neither apart from life, nor a part of life, but life, at its highest and best. Here, as elsewhere, we best get our point of departure by glancing at the religion of childhood. For there is a 1 86 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE religion of childhood, as well as a religion of youth, and a religion of manhood. The fact that peculiarly favorable conditions obtain in adolescence for the inculcation of re- ligious belief and for the cultivation of the spiritual life must not be allowed to obscure from us the religious sus- ceptibilities and possibiHties of childhood. The truth seems to be that man is by nature a religious being; and that he does not become capable of religion at this, that, or the other age; he is always capable of it. But he is not always capable of it in exactly the same sense, nor does religion connote at every age exactly the same kind of ideas and feel- ings. There is such a thing as the religion of an immature mind, and there is such a thing as the religion of a mature mind; and each of these has about it some distinctive features. When we say that the child is capable of religious experience, we must not be understood as saying that his religious experience is the same, in form and content, as the religious experience of the adult, or even of the youth. Truth, no doubt, is eternal and unalterable, and the way of the Divine Spirit in the soul of man is in its most essen- tial features everywhere the same; but nevertheless that truth must come to each age in the form in which it can be assimilated, and religious experience must take place within the area of the conceptions and volitions that are possible at that particular age. What I want to insist upon is, that religion is a matter of thinking and feeling and acting; and, therefore, religion of some sort and degree is possible to every being capable of thinking, feeling, and acting, and capable of any ideas, even though they be ever so rudimentary, about God and His relation to men. Now even the little child has some intellectual power, and exercises some measure of direction over his feelings and behavior. In so far as these are con- sciously directed and adjusted in reference to God, the life is genuinely religious. That this is possible In the little child every religious teacher knows. If this much is granted, then we may go on to point out THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 187 how the character of the child's religion is determined by the nature of his mental life and the conditions of his men- tal progress. For clearly these things have an important effect on his religious ideas and feelings; and the difference between the religion of a child and the religion of an ado- lescent arises out of these differences in the general mental powers and experiences in the two cases. Now the mind of the child has its own distinctive pecu- liarities and its own limitations. Notably, the horizons of the child are necessarily restricted. His acquaintance with the world, whether the physical or the social order, has been brief in duration and circumscribed in area. He is hardly able to make large mental syntheses, in which many things are brought under the unity of a single comprehen- sive concept. His mind rests in the unities of single things, being unable to achieve the correlation that results In the one-in-the-many. Again, as everyone knows, he is greatly absorbed In the material objects about him, which fall under the cognizance of his senses. The more penetrating analyses, that look beyond the objects of sense to the unseen, are not yet possi- ble in any large degree. It is not, therefore, to be expected that the reality of the unseen, untouched, untasted, In a word, un-sensed, can be fully comprehended by him, though he may speak of it and that not without understanding. But to him the unseen means that which is not seen hut could he if otte only had keener vision, or knew where- to look.- God and the things of God are understood to be beyond the reach of vision in much the same sense as that which is on the farther side of a range of mountains is beyond the reach of vision. No difficulty Is experienced, however, when he Is told that God can see him, though he cannot see God ; and that God Is very near to him all the while. Either he does not raise the question how God can be near him and yet not be seen; or, If the question is raised, he is very easily satisfied with the answer he gets. It may be glaringly illogical, or obviously Inadequate, to the adult mind, but to 1 88 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE the child mind it is quite satisfactory for the time being. The responses of the little child to the influences of his environment are in general on the sensori-raotor reflex level, and his religious responses are no exception to this rule. Impressions are not carried up to the higher levels of inter- pretation and adjustment. Impression passes over easily and smoothly into expression, by the lines of least resistance, and along those pathways that have been worn smoothest through repeated responses. Habit, therefore, as soon as it has had time to form, plays a very large part here, as else- where in the child's life. By easy associations and analogies he comes to think of the Unseen Father in much the same way as he thinks of the earthly parents who can be seen; to feel towards Him as he feels towards them; and to be desirous of pleasing Him by doing His will as he is desir- ous of pleasing them by doing their bidding. This is gen- uine religion, but it is religion within the limits of the child's mental powers, and circumscribed by the boundaries of his mental horizon. His inability to comprehend the invisible and eternal, or to appreciate the problems that occupy the adult mind, no more proves his incapacity for religion than does his inability to grasp the distances of the fixed stars prove him incapable of finding his way from room to room in his earthly father's house. Properly understood, the religion of the child and the re- ligion of the adolescent have much in common, as well as some features that distinguish the one from the other. Re- ligion in youth is more subjectively personal than in child- hood. If the religion of childhood is natural religion, as is sometimes said, the religion of youth is spiritual. And yet it retains, and should retain, many of the essential fea- tures of its earlier stage. In becoming more spiritual it does not cease to be natural. For the mind of youth is strongly disposed to find spiritual meaning in, rather than apart from, the objects of nature and the events and re- lationships of human life. Boys and girls of this age are exceedingly prone to read spirituality into trees, flowers, run- THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 189 ning streams, winds and waves, and to endow these, in fancy at least, with attributes similar to those of the human spirit. This is the personification impulse of childhood, carried up to a higher level and employed in a deeper way. The dif- ferences then are relative rather than absolute. There is a transition throughout: in childhood naturalism is in the ascendant, in youth religion is more deeply personal and spiritual; while in the latter part of the adolescent period the reflective element becomes more and more pronounced, until, with maturity, the desire to fix the religious life, on its intellectual side, in formulae, or at least in systematic con- cepts and logical judgments, and to set it forth in close-knit systems of such concepts and judgments, finds its satisfac- tion in creeds and systematic theologies. So, if we have a liking for short and expressive terms, we may say that the religion of childhood is natural, that of youth is personal, and that of maturity is doctrinal. All this is in accord with what psychology has to say about the nature of man and the order of his development in general, and justifies the expectation that the religious life, in so far at least as it is a matter of observation, is in co-ordination with the psycho-physical development as a whole. For in childhood there is a simple, direct response to the impressions of the environment, on the sensori-motor reflex plane, without the possibility of the deeper and stronger emotions, and with a minimum of logical interpre- tatioh or critical analysis. In youth this naive outlook gives way by degrees to one in which the subjective elements play a more prominent part, with the simple feelings giving place to the profounder emotions, mere sense-perception being supplemented by the more ambitious processes of cognition, and the instinctive and habitual motor reactions by deliber- ate choice and higher volition; while in the life of the ma- ture man these processes become relatively fixed and settled along certain general lines. The question whether a man's religion, as it crystallizes in doctrinal forms, shall lose its vitality and become a mere husk, having no vigor and pro- 190 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE viding no nutriment to his soul, depends very largely on the manner in which the process of crystallization takes place. If the concepts and judgments that constitute the elements of his religious thought were built up merely for their own sake, and their vital connexion with his feelings and con- duct lost sight of, then the " doctrinal " stage of religion is also the " dead *' stage. If the religion of the little child is likely to be somewhat formal, it is because it has not yet been taken up into the higher realms of interpretation and feeling; if the religion of the mature man shows a tendency to become formal and devitalized, it is because it has been allowed to slip away from its living connexion with the deeper movements of thought and feeling. The formality of the child's religion is the formality of immaturity; that of the man's religion is, in such a case, the formality of decadence. The religion of the teens should be free from both these kinds of formality. Under ordinarily favorable conditions, personal religion should, at this age, be full of vitality. Religious practices and observances, which have been taught and have grown habitual, should now become instinct with life and significance. If they refuse to be made so, they should be discarded. Many terms whose meaning has been hazy and superficial, may now become profoundly signifi- cant. Prayers that have been " said " daily because the child has been taught so to do may now be uttered with a strong consciousness of spiritual fellowship with the Divine. Portions of the Scriptures have beep committed to memory, and church services have been attended, because it was the custom among those who formed the child's social environ- ment and was required at his hands. Now these things are done with a definite and conscious purpose. It may be. Or, it may be that they are discontinued, because the indi- vidual has come to that point where he recognizes the in- adequacy of custom and social requirement as a basis or ground for religious practices, but has not yet come to that point where he sees the full meaning of those practices. THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 191 and the true grounds upon which they are justified. In short, the religion of the adolescent must be vital religion, taking hold upon all the springs of his being, or otherwise it is likely to be shuffled off and discarded as an impediment to the life. Among the distinctive features of the religion of adoles- cence there are two that stand out with special prominence. These are, first, the experience of intellectual doubts and difficulties, with or without emotional tension and upheaval; and, secondly, the experience commonly known as " con- version." That these are very common in youth, though very rare in childhood. Is not a matter for surprise, in the light of what has been said of the nature of the child's development. Doubt and difficulty. In regard to religious questions, and in connexion with religious situations, are more common at this age than at any other, as statistics show. This is exactly what was to be expected. Religion has to do with the profoundest realities that can engage the attention. Thoughts about these profound realities arise even in child- hood, and questions regarding them are asked, and get an- swered in some sort of way, even then. These answers, as already pointed out, are necessarily inadequate, not only because all human answers to such questions must be so, but also because the mind of the child could not take In a really adequate answer, even if such were forthcoming. They are also usually quite dogmatic, in the sense of being unexplained, and given on someone's bare authority. All this Is as it should be, and as it must necessarily be, in childhood. But the time inevitably comes, in the progress of the mind towards maturity, when these questions^ along with their traditional and customary answers, have to submit to a closer scrutiny. The age of conscious criticism begins, and from this criticism nothing Is of necessity free. There is no privileged doctrine or theological proposition that is by Its nature immune. Suspicion may arise as to the pos- sibility of error where formerly there was nothing but Im- 192 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE plicit acceptance. This, of course, is also as it should be. For the mind does not really possess truth in its own right unless that truth is reasoned, and reasoned by the individual himself. A distinguished educator once said that it was as impossible for one person to think for another as it would be to digest for him. And since truth is made one's own only by being thought out by oneself, it follows that the process of thinking out the truth is quite essential, if the mind is to attain normal growth, and become equipped for the performance of its essential functions. Truth is not a thing in itself, independent of personality, an alien thing, to which one may become reconciled, or an external thing which one may put on as one puts on a garment. If truth is really to live, it must live in the active thinking of living minds; and if minds are to be really living, they must live as the active exponents of the truth. But there are all degrees of this living grasp and com- prehension of the truth. For the little child, truth must of necessity be measurably an external thing. He has not con- structed it for himself except in the most rudimentary way, nor is he capable of so doing. Truth is partly a formula, as duty is partly a habit. The reason of both, in the deepest sense, has yet to be discovered. And the progress of the individual from infancy through childhood and youth to manhood, so far as the intellect is concerned, may be mea- sured by the degree in which this reason has been, or is be- ing, energetically and successfully sought out. Now this searching out implies the effort to discover foundations, to bring to light the bases on which the super- structure of belief rests, to reveal the premises from which the conclusions, heretofore accepted on bare authority, are inferred. It may be easily seen how this involves the com- prehension of statements in their relation to one another in a system or whole of truths, instead of the apprehension of single propositions or statements in their isolation from one another. This effort to construct a system of truths, which will stand the test of criticism, and in which every THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 193 single proposition will be seen in its living and necessary re- lation to the whole, is the natural accompaniment and the direct consequence of that general expansion of the physical being and of the mental horizon which is bound to occur In youth. Mental perspective has become more necessary. Ideas which have heretofore dwelt side by side in conscious- ness without any sense of clash or conflict, may now reveal to the more alert mind of youth certain incongruities and contradictions. Now for the first time these incongruities produce mental unrest and discomfort, and provoke the effort at readjustment. If in this process of readjustment and reinterpretation it is found necessary to discard any long-cherished belief, or even to recast and restate its inter- pretation; if any long-observed religious custom or ritual seems to lose its traditional justification, without immedi- ately finding some other that commends itself to the logical faculty, this mental unrest and discomfort may become very acute, causing, for a time, great mental suffering, which may, indeed, be so severe as seriously to interfere with the bodily health, or even with the balance and poise of the mental powers. Among those who have borne testimony concerning these periods of doubt a considerable number appear to believe that the study of science and philosophy were the immediate occasion of their unrest; the former by setting forth facts with which, for the time being at least, certain doctrines, previously held sacred, could not be harmonized; the latter by bringing before the mind problems of such profound sig- nificance as to require a readjustment of the entire mental perspective. The meaning of truth, the constitution of real- ity, the conditions of knowledge, the conception of the good; these are examples of the sort of problems with which the mind Is brought face to face in the study of philosophy; and they are often taken very seriously by the youth, whose whole being throbs with the impulse to understand and to achieve. But the " Immediate occasion " of a thing is not the same as Its cause. And the real cause of religious doubt 194 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE lies further back than the study of science and philosophy. For some minds are assailed by doubts and difficulties with- out having studied either science or philosophy, while others have pursued these studies without being assailed by doubts or difficulties. The real cause is the expansion of the mind, the enlargement of the mental outlook, and the augmenta- tion of the emotional currents, that take place at the time of puberty. These changes are alrnost certain to bring with them a new impulse to scrutinize those things that have heretofore been taken for granted. Science and philosophy may for a time aggravate the disorder (if it may be called a disorder) but it is to be noted that in many cases these studies have been instrumental in removing those very doubts which they were responsible for aggravating. The same mental process, which at first revealed the contradic- tions in one's beliefs, also led the way to a higher interpre- tation, in which those contradictions were cleared away. The light that revealed the fog helped to dispel it. As to the content or subject-matter of doubt, inquiries such as those of Starbuck indicate that in most cases the things doubted belong to the class of propositions which have been taught, in the period of childhood, dogmatically, and which have been accepted by the childish mind on ex- ternal authority and with a minimum of comprehension. Doctrines touching the origin of things, the authority of the Bible, the person of Christ, certain of the divine at- tributes, certain of the attributes of the human soul and its destiny, stand first among the things that come to be doubted in these years. It will be observed that these are among the things that lie beyond the realm where proof in the ordinary sense is possible, and their acceptance, in con- sequence, involves a demand upon the faculty of faith, in that sense in which it means the acceptance of something upon authority. If a suspicion is aroused regarding the trustworthiness of such authority, faith Is undermined, and mental distress, for a time at least, is the result. But this is not the whole of the matter. Religious un- THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 195 rest is not exclusively intellectual, either In its origin or in its character. It is also emotional, and in some cases pre- dominantly so. Often there are no definitely formulated questions to be answered by the mind, no clearly stated prop- ositions to be challenged by the reason. But the whole inner life becomes restless. The ferment of the new wine threatens the integrity of the old bottles, not because these have been examined and found seamy, but simply because of the expansion and ferment within. Hence many of those who experience spiritual unrest are unable to make any definite statement as to its cause. They simply feel themselves at sea, " driven with the wind and tossed." This is more frequently the case with girls than with boys. The former are more liable to experience feelings of spiritual restlessness without being able to give any reason; the lat- ter show a larger percentage of cases where some definite propositions are under critical examination. Connected in the closest way with these phenomena ot spiritual questioning, and indeed in many cases beginning with them, is that experience usually discussed under some such heading as " Conversion " or " The New Birth." The facts involved have received diverse interpretations, and various opinions have been held as to their real place in the rehglous life. Different religious bodies attach different values to these phenomena. It may be worth while to state roughly, and without dis- cussion, the two opposite poles of belief with regard to the significance of conversion. According to the one, every human soul without exception is a castaway, who needs to be saved from perdition. Unless he Is to go down swiftly to everlasting ruin he must be rescued by divine intervention, and have his guilt removed and his conscience cleansed by divine grace, In response to his own repentance and self- humiliation. Those who look upon the matter from this point of view naturally attach special Importance to a pro- nounced change, occurring at some definite time once for all, accompanied by a certain depth of emotion, and issuing 196 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE in a state of inward peace, which, theoretically at least, re- mains permanent. From the opposite point of view the religious life, in its inception, is not so much the rescue of the soul from im- pending disaster, as the entering in of the soul upon a larger measure of its rightful inheritance. The native instincts of the soul are not wholly evil, but they require to be de- veloped, corrected, and it may be, counteracted, to pro- duce a well-rounded character. According to this view the religious life is almost wholly a matter of education. *' Conversion," as involving struggle and distress, and issu- ing in reconciliation and peace, is regarded as at best only incidental, and not at all of the essence of religious experi- ence. I am inclined to believe that each of these views con- tains a measure of the truth, but that neither of them con- tains the whole truth. The important facts from the stand- point of the psychology of the religious life, are these : 1. That the phenomena of "conversion" (its serious- ness, its fears and distress, its crisis, its sense of personal need, either in the way of deliverance from bondage and fear, or in the way of help in attaining to some higher self- realization, its emergence out of darkness into light and calm, with the clear conviction of having passed from a state of perdition to a state of salvation) are quite beyond question or dispute, so far as their genuineness is concerned. They have been experienced by countless numbers of per- sons in all ages. 2. That while these phenomena vary considerably from individual to individual, there is an essential similarity be- neath all the variety. In all cases there is a transition from a state of unrest or distress to a state of rest or peace. The unrest may be of any degree of intensity, from the faintest ripple of uneasiness to a mental agony so great as to de- throne the reason or drive the subject of it to suicide, un- less relief is soon obtained. The distress may be long con- tinued, or of the briefest duration. Some persons are THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 197 " under conviction " for years, while others settle the ques- tion in an hour. The peace that follows may also be of any degree of intensity, from a just appreciable accession of serenity, to a joy that is literally " unspeakable and full of glory." The intensity of the joy is usually in direct pro- portion to the intensity of the distress by which it was pre- ceded. Moreover, it may fluctuate greatly, and usually shows a tendency to diminish somewhat and take on a soberer character as time goes on, and the new convert en- counters the difficulties and temptations of the way, and finds that he is not going to be " carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease," but rather, like Bunyan's Pilgrim at the Hill Difficulty, finds himself compelled to " fall from running to going and from going to clambering upon his hands and knees, because of the steepness of the place." 3. There may be, and often is, a religious " awaken- ing," or increase of interest in spiritual things, which is not sufficiently pronounced in character to be styled conversion, as usually defined, since it lacks entirely the elements of struggle and victory. 4. Moreover, this new life, with its attendant elation, so far as we can judge of it from the observable facts, may be permanent or temporary. In multitudes of cases the life and character, the emotional and volitional attitudes, and the judgments and convictions as to moral and spiritual values, have taken on a new quality and a new direction which remain until the end of life; but many cases are on record, of persons who have manifested all the outward symptoms of a genuine conversion, and have afterwards be- come utterly godless and remained so. 5. Again, if the process of " conversion " necessarily involves a more or less violent and spectacular change, with an appreciable measure of spiritual distress, followed by an appreciable accession of relief and peace, then It is im- possible to maintain that conversion is essential to a truly religious life. For in the first place, it seldom occurs in childhood. It is rare before twelve and very rare before 198 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE eight. And in the second place, there are many persons, some of them children, some of them persons of older growth, who, judged by Christ's own tests, are genuine Christians, but who have never known the unrest and struggle involved in such conversion. In these cases, as Starbuck points out, the character and habits are gradually built up, and you have a new man before you realize what is going on. Many of the finest specimens of Christian character belong to this class. To those who are concerned to maintain that conversion is a strictly " supernatural," as distinguished from a " nat- ural " process, and that it is absolutely essential to the reli- gious life, two courses of reasoning are open. They may, on the one hand, deny, with Lancaster, that the " religion " of a little child can be anything more than a purely formal affair (which, in my judgment, is equivalent to denying that the little child can be religious at all) or they may, on the ether hand, deny that conversion necessarily Involves any noticeable degree of struggle or distress, or any conscious- ness of a transition from this state to one of spiritual calm. The one essential thing, they may say. Is that there be at- tained a definite and satisfactory spiritual condition; that one's feet be planted on the rock and one's going established; and that whether this be accomplished by little, or by much, or by none at all, of the spectacular element, is a question of quite secondary Importance. The work of the Spirit may be accomplished through the earthquake, the wind, the fire, or the still small voice; and which of these shall be the agency of conversion In any given case depends on the na- ture of the given case and the circumstances surrounding It. Without stopping to argue the doctrinal questions con- nected with conversion, I may simply record my conviction that the second of the above alternatives seems the logical one. At the same time I may throw out the suggestion that the " natural " and the " supernatural " need not be so antithetically conceived that any process which Is de- fined in terms of the one must necessarily exclude from it- THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 199 self all participation in the other. The more closely one looks at these two things, the natural and the supernatural, the more difficult it is to say exactly where the one begins and the other leaves off. The important question is not whether the child's religion is " natural " or " supernatural," but whether it is the real religion of childhood. It matters little, therefore, which of these terms we apply to the case; but it matters a great deal that we understand what the case really is. 6. Perhaps the most significant fact of all is this, that in the vast majority of cases " conversion," as described above, occurs among persons in the adolescent period of life. I have said that it Is rare before twelve and very rare before eight. Let me now add that it Is rare after twenty-five and very rare after thirty. Careful examination of the most important studies that have been made on the sub- ject, with their tabulated results, supplemented by many ob- servations of my own, not so systematically tabulated, con- firms and justifies the conviction, widely held among those interested in the matter, that there is something about the life of the teens that predisposes it towards religious ex- perience, in the deeper and more " heartfelt " meaning .of that term. It is well known among religious workers that the majority of those who are added to the churches come from the ranks of the young; and in most religious bodies there is an expectation, tacit or avowed, that some positive stand in regard to the claims of personal religion will be made in the teens if it is not made before. In some com- munions special provision is made. In the shape of an appro- priate ceremony, for the public signalizing and ratification of this positive action. Scientific study of the facts, both statis- tical and psychological, serves to corroborate this common observation as to the conversion of the young, and to justify the prevalent expectation based upon it. All the evidence points in one direction, and bears out the following statements : that the vast majority of those who are converted are between the ages of twelve and twenty- 200 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE five when the experience occurs; that the vast majority (perhaps five-sixths) of these are between twelve and twenty; that of these latter, the larger proportion are be- tween fourteen and eighteen; and that the most fruitful epoch for pronounced religious experience lies about midway between these last dates. If the statistics of conversion are represented by means of ^ curve drawn upon a chart (as has been done by Starbuck, Hall, Coe, and others) the curve will be found to rise rapidly, though irregularly, through the early teens, reaching its highest point at sixteen, and then falling away, again Irregularly, towards maturity. I say " irregularly " because the curve, besides rising to its apex at sixteen, will be observed to rise, at thirteen and again at eighteen or nineteen, to lesser heights; showing that there are, at these two points, pronounced conversion-waves, though not so pronounced as at sixteen. The curve for females does not differ very materially from that for males, the highest point here also being at sixteen, with less pronounced waves at thirteen and eight- een. The conclusion is irresistible that strong religious con- victions, deep religious feelings, and pronounced religious decisions, are more likely to occur in adolescence than in any other period of life, and most likely of all about the middle of that period. It is for biology and psychology to seek an explanation for these facts in the nature and laws of psycho-physical development. 7. So far we have contented ourselves with describ- ing the process of conversion only in its general outlines, as involving a transition from a state of unrest to a state of rest and peace; both the rest and the unrest varying widely, in different cases, not only in their intensity, but also in their persistence; while the transition itself may occupy a shorter or longer time, and be achieved through a greater or lesser degree of conscious effort and struggle. A further word should now be added respecting the ground or reason of the state of unrest, as understood by the sub- ject of the experience; and, as a consequence of this, the THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 201 distinctive character of that happy psychical condition which is understood to be the issue or outcome of the entire ex- perience. From this point of view there appear to be three lead- ing types of religious experience, differing according to the manner In which the unsatisfactory pre-conversion state is understood by the subject of it. It is not denied, of course, that in many individual instances the characteristics of more than one of these types may be found mingled to a greater or less extent. In the first of these the individual believes himself to be under condemnation on account of his sins, and exposed to spiritual ruin through the righteous judgment of an offended Deity. John Bunyan's conception of the Christian life furnishes an excellent illustration. Pilgrim flees in great haste and fear from the doomed City, carrying on his back the burden of his sins, and finds the first alleviation of his agony when, at the sight of a Cross by the wayside, his burden falls from his shoulders and disappears for- ever. The ensuing condition of joy and peace. In such cases as this, arises out of the consciousness of reconcilia- tion with God, through the atonement wrought by the Christ. It is important to notice that this type of conversion occurs more commonly among persons to whom " convic- tion of sin " has come later In life; though it is fairly fre- quent in youth and not altogether unknown in later child- hood. It is also more frequent In the case of persons In whose early teaching the doctrines of Sin and Atonement have held a prominent place. I am inclined to believe, however, that even among these, a considerable number of those who are converted before twenty, as well as a fair proportion of those who are converted after that age, experience no very poignant consciousness of guilt and con- demnation. In religious experience of the second type the distress of the pre-conversion stage is due, not so much to the con- 202 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE sciousness of personal guilt in the sight of a holy God, as to the consciousness of personal failure to realize an ideal. " Conviction " in this case, has reference to shortcoming rather than positive sin (though the two may be co-impli- cated) and " perdition " is understood in its etymological sense, as loss rather than punishment. This type of experience is exceedingly common in adoles- cence, for this is the age of ideals and aspirations, as we have already pointed out ; and where the early teaching and environment have been ethically wholesome and inspiring, " conversion " is extremely likely to be of this character. This is a fact whose importance, in relation to the religious education of the young, can hardly be exaggerated. From the very nature of these cases the post-conversion stage may be less positively joyous and peaceful than in cases of the previous type. For while the consciousness of pardon may come in a moment, in all its completeness, the consciousness of a realized ideal can never do so. For it is characteristic of ideals that they expand and recede as we advance and achieve, so that the sense of short-coming and failure is never wholly eliminated. In religious experience of the third type the distress of the pre-conversion stage is due to the consciousness that there is no harmony in the inner life, no coherence of in- terests, no real psychical unity. The inner condition here is difficult to describe with any precision, but that there really are such cases, and especially in early and middle adolescence, when the whole being is undergoing reconstruc- tion, is attested by many observations. The issue and outcome of this type of experience does not depend on intellectual processes, nor even on the exercise of religious faith, to the same extent as in the other types of cases. The subject of the experience is not able to say with any definiteness what is wrong, nor in what way that which is wrong may be made right. It is emotional unrest, rather than logical contradiction, which he feels within him. And the inner confusion may give place to order, and the tur- THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 203 moil to peace, quite in the absence of any reasoned convic- tions or definite decisions. The atmosphere simply clears up, as fog and clouds roll away from a landscape, under the rays of the morning sun. Biologically and psychologically all these types are to be explained with reference to the same general principles, their differences from one another being due to differences in native disposition and temperament, or in early training and environment. It is clear, from what has been said in earlier chapters, that this period of life is marked by a general quickening and unifying of the entire being, and a pronounced intensi- fication of all the vital and psychic forces. Now, as never before, beauty and ugliness, truth and falsehood, right and wrong, stand out clearly before the consciousness, and stir the whole being to its profoundest depths. Instincts that have slumbered hitherto, awaken now into full functioning and manifest themselves in new desires and aversions. In- terests multiply and intensify, and the objects of these in- terests become greatly varied in their character. Under the pressure of those Inner forces the constituents of the mental life, which in childhood were relatively loose and ununified, become relatively organized and unified. Life be- gins to be seen as a whole, with a single meaning and a single purpose. This unification takes place, not only within the individual mental life, but between the individual and his social environ- ment. The unity of the self with other selves is recog- nized. Interest in the social order becomes explicit and vigorous. Human relationships, such as those of parent and child, brother and sister, playmate, neighbor, fellow- student, take on profounder meanings, and give rise to deeper emotions; while the awakening sex-consciousness in- vests half the social environment with a peculiar interest which is as yet but vaguely and imperfectly understood. The whole nature is open and receptive to impressions from every quarter; but this is not all, for childhood too is open 204 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE and impressionable in a high degree. The impressions now sink deeper, and take a firmer and more permanent hold on the inner life. The tendency is to spiritualize, to moral- ize, and to think in terms of personality, of duty, and of destiny. The meaning of life as a whole, and with that the demands of duty, the claims of conscience, and the lure of ideals, begin to stir the soul as they never could in child- hood. Life's vocation, life's purpose, life's principles, and life's responsibilities, begin to press upon the adolescent con- sciousness. All this shooting together of many currents into one, this confluence of many rivulets to make the broad river, is characteristic of adolescence; it is not usually ac- complished without some measure of distress, and when it is accomplished, and in proportion as it is accomplished, there is peace. Now if all this be true in regard to the lesser syntheses of life, will it not also be true in regard to that supreme synthesis in which life as such, with the totality of its in- terests, becomes consciously related to the divine purpose and the divine will? This supreme synthesis can hardly be made earlier, for reasons already pointed out; if it is not made now, or if it is wrongly made, so that life is focussed in the wrong direction or adjusted about a wrong center, the loss is rarely made good, and when made good, it is at great cost. As in orthopedics it sometimes happens that a crooked limb must be broken in order to be made straight, so In these spiritual matters; the heart must in some cases be broken in order to be made whole. The period of youth, then, seems to be the psychological juncture for the great serious decisions and deliberate choices that shall determine the direction and the trend of all the remaining years. Hence we need not be surprised to find that positive and definite decisions In regard to the claims of religion — the most vital of all issues — are made more commonly In the period under consideration than in any other; so that many observers have come to speak of it as the " normal period of conversion." THE RELIGIOUS LIFE 205 Nor is it to be wondered at that the claims of religion are commonly interpreted now as the claims of God on the per- sonal devotion of the believer. For the religious life, in its inmost heart and core, consists in personal devotion to a supreme personality. Whatever else religion may include, this is the tap root out of which it all grows, and upon the continued vitality of which everything else depends. Doc- trine has its place ; organization and ecclesiastical machinery are to a certain extent necessary; social service is a natural outcome and tangible evidence of the life within; but that life itself, in its inmost essence, begins, continues, and ends, in personal devotion to a Supreme Person. It was here that the history of Christianity began, in the personal call to personal discipleship ; and whenever any substitute is put in the place of that, religion dies at the heart. This fact is suggestive of many things, among which not the least important is this, that at this time in the life of a boy or girl, the character and work of Christ, his sacrifice and his claims, make their most irresistible appeal, and meet with their most whole-souled response. The passion for personality, which shows itself in many ways, is seen in its highest form in the response to the call of the Christ. His summons to service and sacrifice is often irresistible, for in him the heroic appears in its supreme form, and in his sacrifice spiritual heroism finds its supreme example. The youthful heart readily catches the fire of spiritual heroism, and is ready to follow a spiritual hero to the world's end and at any cost. Hence the Cross, where altruism culminates, and love has her perfect work, comes to its fullest meaning and makes its most powerful appeal in the days of youth, when the negative limitations of childhood have been sur- mounted, and the positive limitations of maturity have not yet been encountered ; while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when the heart of a man becomes op- pressed with the world's evil and his spirit inoculated with the toxin of pessimism. CHAPTER XIV THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE This final chapter is intended as a logical deduction, or series of deductions, from the chapters that have preceded it, or as a practical application of the facts brought out and the principles laid down in those chapters. If there is any sound psychology in the foregoing, then we should get here our applied psychology. If normal development has been correctly described there, then we should be able to set down here the essential canons of educational procedure. And if in those studies we have found any outstanding features belonging to the period under review, then here we should be able to call attention to such rules and methods of proce- dure as apply in a peculiar way to the education of the adolescent. That there are such outstanding features, has, I think, been made clear. That the period extending from puberty to maturity Is one of uncommon vigor, vitality, and growth, marked by great intellectual and emotional expansion, by a deepening and widening of the interests, and by a pro- nounced accession of volitional energy, is clear even to the casual observer, and still more so to the scientific investi- gator. This makes the Pedagogy of Adolescence one of the most inviting of topics. The reader who has gone through the foregoing chapters will have no difficulty in surmising the author's view as to the purpose and meaning of education. That meaning and purpose must be broadly conceived. To define it in terms that are purely intellectual, or purely volitional, or purely emotional, would be alike inadequate. The only adequate statement is that which is made from the viewpoint of com- 206 THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 207 plete and balanqed personality. /That the rational and moral being, who is the subject of education, should find himself, realize himself, come into complete possession of himself, and have perfect control of himself, so that every power is brought into efficient functioning in such a way as to reinforce every other power, so that there is no one- sidedness, no atrophy, and no hypertrophy anywhere, this is the goal and purpose of education. The supreme end, properly understood, is mastery. The divine purpose in man's creation was that he should " have dominion, over the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, the fish of the sea," over the forces and resources of in- animate nature, and last, but not least, over the mighty un- seen forces and resources of his own being. He should have dominion over the course of his thoughts, so as to be able to call up, banish, modify, combine, separate, ideas and trains of ideas with celerity. He should be able to com- mand the resources of logical inference. He should have dominion over the instincts, feelings, passions, and desires of his nature, developing them into rich fruitfulness, and at the same time holding them under perfect control. He should have dominion over his actions, so that his conduct is always directed by his intelligence. But this is not all. Mere mastery, even self-mastery, does not exhaust the meaning of education. Mere control, even of oneself, unless it be also self-direction towards the worthiest ideals, falls short of the true purpose of educa- tion. Education must be conceived, not merely in terms of power, but also, and chiefly, in terms of value. For power, and mastery, merely as such, make destruction, as well as construction, possible, maleficence as well as bene- ficence. In the last analysis, then, the educational end must be stated, not biologically, nor even psychologically, but ethically. The most complete knowledge of the laws by which the processes of life and thought, of instinct and feeling, of desire and volition, are governed, while of im- 208 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE mense value, and quite indispensable, falls just short of giv- ing us the formula we require. We have spoken of " well- balanced personality," and of " mastery " and " dominion "; but what these phrases are to stand for, is a question whose answer must be given in ethical terms. Unless the educa- tional process is carried on under the illumination of ethical ideals, its product will be power without the sense of duty, force without spirituality, ." culture " without conscience; the most brutal and hideous thing that this world has ever looked upon. The pedagogy of adolescence will resemble the pedagogy of any other period of life in one respect at least. It will be psycho-biological in its groundwork and method, and it will be ethical and spiritual in Its purpose and meaning. From the biological and psychological standpoints it will guide Itself by, the ascertained laws of mental and physical growth; from the ethical and spiritual standpoints it will bend Its energies to the realization of the highest conceivable Ideal of human life and character. From both points of view it will take account of the materials to be used (the question of curriculum) and of the best way of using those materials (the question of pedagogic method proper). So the great questions for the educator are these : What are the native capacities and powers possessed by the pupil? What are the essential features of the unfolding of those capacities and powers, both singly, and in their connexion with one another? What Is the true goal, towards which all genuine development and culture should move ? In view of the nature of the powers and capacities, and of the character of the goal to be set before us, what are the most fruitful methods to be employed In all educational effort? The answer to this last question would Include the general principles of method and the specific adaptation of those principles to special cases, special subjects, special conditions, and special periods of life. These questions, with the exception of the last, have al- ready been passed under review. In proceeding to this last THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 209 question (that of educational method, with special reference to the period of adolescence) there are several principles of the widest possible application, but particularly pertinent to adolescent education, which on that account may be taken first. \ ^ One of these general principles is this, that adolescent ■^ V education should be free, joyous, and unconstrained, so far as possible. I do not mean that the will of the adolescent should never be crossed, nor his judgment called in question. For his will is not yet well disciplined, nor his judgment well matured. He makes many mistakes, and is guilty of much foolish behavior. So the riper judgment of more mature persons is required here only to a less degree than in child- hood. What I do mean is that the supervision and con-f trol exercised by the older mind over the younger should be ' as unobstrusive as possible. Herbert Spencer rejoiced to see the decay of absolutism, .in matters political, religious, and educational. In his advocacy of the doctrine of the " discipline of natural consequences " In the moral training of the child he made some extreme applications of a sound principle, and overlooked some essential factors. But it remains true (and nowhere more true than in adolescence) that all arbitrariness should be eliminated as fast as pos_-^ sible out of our educational procedure. For if, as we have, \ said, the aim of education is to give the pupil the mastery' of himself and of the environment, in the interests of his own fullest self-realization, then in the process of educatioil we should constantly look forward to the day of his com- plete emancipation from all merely arbitrary authority] The pressure of such authority should, at every period or life, be kept at the lowest point compatible with proper] discipline; and during the teens it should fall as rapidly as, possible towards zero. From the intellectual point of view, this means that the youth shall be encouraged to enquire. Investigate, criticize, sift, and make discoveries for himself, in the realm of truth. The zest of exploration, stronger now than ever before, 2IO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE should not be held in check more than is absolutely necessary. The maturer mind should not now define truth in set terms, for acceptance by the less mature mind, but should go with him on a voyage of discovery through the realm of truth. It also means, not that studies shall be made easy for the pupil, but that they shall be taken hold of by the right end; that they shall be approached by the most natural avenue. As a rule the natural way is the easiest way, and there is certainly no virtue in making any human pursuit harder than it needs to be, since every human pursuit that is worth while presents quite enough of difficulty for all the pur- poses of educational discipline. But the question of ease or difficulty is not the main question. The spirit of youth does not cry out specially for ease. It is apt to scorn an easy task, and to love the strenuous and the difficult. But it does cry out for permission to take hold of things by the right end; which means beginning with that particular fea- ture or aspect of any subject that is naturally the first to attract attention and awaken interest. Youth is impatient of the uninteresting, almost as much so as childhood; but though its attention must be aroused through interest, yet its interest can be awakened through a much greater variety of channels than the interest of childhood; and when once secured, is more nearly self-sustaining than the interest of the child could be. Much has been said and written on the necessity of pro- •1 ceeding, in education, from the concrete to the abstract, from individual cases to formal definitions and universal propo- sitions. This means, in literature, that we proceed to the grammar through the literary product ; in mathematics, that we begin with numerable and measurable objects, and pro- ceed thence to the general laws of number; in biology, that living organisms are the starting point, and the general laws of life the goal; in geography, that the child should have his attention directed first to the actual features of the locality in which he lives, and proceed from this to wide generalizations and comprehensive definitions; in history, THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 211 that vivid word pictures of the personalities and doings of men and the movements of nations should be the founda- tion on which to build towards a philosophy of history. , Much of the -success of modern education has been due to the clear recognition and wide adoption of this principle/ Its most obvious application is in the realm of elementary education, but it should not be abandoned with the transition from childhood to youth. It should, however, be balanced by another principle, of equal importance, namely, that the mind should not be expected to remain forever in the con- crete. Indeed, it may be that the emphasis on the con- crete has been somewhat overdone in our day. Apparently the young mind is assumed to be incapable of abstract con- ceptions. Objects, pictures, word pictures, moving pictures, and what not, are continually utilized, with the purpose of making vivid and indelible impressions on the senses and the imagination, and incidentally, it would seem, to spare the pupil the labor of thinking. But if this process is carried to such a length as to render the mind unfit for or incap- able of " abstract " thinking, then it has been carried too far. Man is a rational being. It is precisely in his rationality that he differentiates himself from all other animals. Now this power of rational insight, which is his distinctive pre- rogative, should receive the special attention of the edu- cator. And I take it, therefore, as axiomatic, that the concept-forming capacity, and the faculty of judgment, should be developed as rapidly as is consistent with normal and well-balanced growth. This development should be- gin in childhood, where every story and every object lesson should be so presented as not only to impress the senses and the imagination, but also to arouse the mind to the elemen- tary exercise of Its concept-forming power. But In youth, especially, this feature of the mental life should receive attention. We have referred with almost wearisome iteration to the general expSansIon that comes to the entire being in this period of life. One of the most 212 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE striking features of that expansion occurs in the intellect, as we have seen. More meat and less milk is now desired in the intellectual diet. The mind in youth is eager to make these excursions into obscure and difficult regions, and there is a real exultation when it succeeds in achieving some subtle analysis or some deep synthesis not dreamed of in child- hood. To follow the natural way in education means, then, not merely to begin with concrete living wholes, so far as possible, but also to encourage the young intellect in its endeavors to find the abstract in the concrete, the universal in the particular, the general law in the individual instances. This is not a plea for the merely academic, as against the practical, in education, for it is the most practical of sug- gestions, and has to do with the very sources of efficient living. We are reminded daily of the world's great need of men who can make wide generalizations and think' their way into the heart of things, seeing the universal law in the particular case. Whence come failures in business, bungling in statecraft, and obscurantism in education itself, but from the lack of this ability to " think one's way into the heart of things "? Another general principle of education (widely accepted now, but not always so) is that every possible opportunity should be provided the pupil for making the acquaintance of nature herself, in the largest sense, not merely at second hand through objects, pictures and stories, but at first hand. This, too, applies to all periods of life, but is specially ap- plicable to the youth period. We have had occasion to note how in youth there is commonly a new kind of interest in nature and natural objects and processes. The tendency is to regard nature in a sort of quasi-personal light. There is a feeling, not easy to put into words, of fellowship with all the world out-of-doors. That nature as a whole is the embodiment of a wise and beneficent purpose is a con- viction congenial to the minds of the young. Little children take to it easily and naturally, and carry it as far as their mental powers are able to do. Young men and maidens THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 213 are ready to carry it much further, and will do so, unless some stumbling block In the way of fallacious pedagogy is placed in their way. I believe that there are few things that do more to pre- pare the way for the highest religious education than this free and spontaneous acquaintance with nature. That na- ture is inimical to grace, and that In order to be genuinely religious one's gaze must be continually upward, and never outward, is, I trust, a fallacy long since exploded. Material forms and natural processes constitute a perennial mes- sage from the Infinite to the finite spirit, and the supernatural pulsates through the natural. Another general principle, more fundamental. If possible, than the last, and of marked applicability in adolescence, is that education In its highest sense requires the contact of personality with personality; and, as a corollary, that It Is more Important for boys and girls to come Into daily con- tact with men and women of high character than to live In the most affluent homes, or to attend the most splendidly equipped schools, or even to be educated according to the most scientifically constructed curricula. We have had occasion more than once to refer to this matter of personal Influence. It obtrudes itself upon the observer's notice at every turn. It is the subtlest and most potent thing In the world. Its Importance and value are well recognized in reference to the education of the child; but it is at least equally potent as a factor In the education of youth. For youth is capable of making a stronger re- sponse than is possible In childhood to the appeal of every personal relationship. The simple, naive affection of a little child for his parents, hardly disconnected with his own com- fort and pleasure, becomes fiiial devotion In the deeper sense. All the other personal relationships develop In a similar way, becoming more meaningful as childhood gives place to youth. In that part of the educational process that goes on In the home, it is beyond question that the personal character of the parents counts for more than anything else. Could 214 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE the atmosphere of every home be exactly what it ought, all our deepest problems in education would be reduced to com- paratively simple dimensions. The same thing is true of the school. Let a really great teacher take charge of a school full of boys and girls, and give him a little time in which to make his personality felt, and then observe with what devotion they serve him and do his bidding, with what adoration they look up to him, with what sincere unconscious flattery they imitate him, and with what royal hospitality they take him to their hearts. Returns such as those published by Professor King ^ are strikingly significant of the vast power of personality over personality in the youth period. King's material consisted of papers written by high school boys and girls, in re- sponse to the request to state the things that impressed them most, or by which they were the most deeply influenced, dur- ing their high school career. Many things are mentioned in these papers; books, studies, fellow-pupils, surroundings; but the one thing that never fails to be mentioned, and which usually occupies the greater part of the paper, is the personal influence of the teacher. Sometimes it is a teacher for whom the pupil entertains a strong dislike, to whom reference is made. Far more frequently it is a teacher for whom the pupil feels strong affection or esteem. But in every case, whether for better or for worse, whether through liking or aversion, the influence of the teacher is dwelt upon, and accentuated, to such an extent as to practically eclipse and overshadow every other single force, and in many cases, all other forces combined. As one goes over these papers the conviction grows stronger and stronger, that personality as a factor in educa- tion, much as has been written upon it, has not even yet received the emphasis it deserves. It would almost seem as though the one educational problem that overshadows all others is the problem of bringing it to pass that the in- iKing, The High School Age, New York, 1914, Ch. IX. THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 215 fluence of personality, as it bears upon the individual, shall be everywhere of the highest possible type, at every stage of his development. This has also its tragic and pathetic side. For this hero- worship on the part of youth Is not always the most dis- criminating. He pours out his affection and loyalty, some- times on persons who are not altogether worthy of them. Or it sometimes happens that the object of this devotion re- veals, at a later day, elements of moral littleness or perver- sity that did not at first appear. The result is sometimes deplorable. One case comes to mind, in which a young man found his moral order fairly tumbling in ruins about him, because certain men, to whom he had looked up as models, proved unworthy, turning out to be weak where he had supposed them strong. One, who occupied a place of great responsibility and privilege, gave way to unchastity; an- other was guilty of a base piece of trickery in order to se- cure a monetary advantage; a third showed himself exceed- ingly vindictive towards the perpetrator of a fancied wrong. If these mighty ones could fall so utterly, where should he look for honor and faith and integrity in the world? For some time there was a real danger that he might renounce his faith in man altogether, and, what was worse, in the God whom these men had pretended to serve. Turning now from these general principles of adolescent education to the more specific areas of their application, let us begin with its physical aspects. And here the first essen- tial is health and vigor. Unless our boys and girls can be " good animals," they cannot be much else. And so, during these years of rapid growth there should be plenty of nutrition, sleep, fresh air and sunshine, with every pos- sible freedom of muscular movement. Senseless fashions in dress, that Impede such freedom of movement, should be prohibited. Personal cleanliness, inculcated from the earliest childhood, should by this time have become a fixed and settled habit. Another means to physical as well as mental and moral 2i6 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE soundness and efficiency, is to be found in the discipline of work and play. These are both important, and they should alternate in due proportion. Play, though preeminently a childish occupation, decreasing as the years increase, should never be entirely discontinued. In youth it is essential to the highest development. And in youth it should, to a large degree, take the form of contest and competition be- tween social units, such as the club or the athletic team. For the development of the social consciousness is just at that stage when its healthy maturing should be facilitated by all proper means. Among those proper means " team play " is one of the most Important. Few things are better fitted than this to give self-control, consideration of others, quick- ness In responding to any given situation by the most suit- able reaction, and a healthful balance between egoism and altruism, which is one of the highest educational desiderata. All good things, of course, can be abused, and team play may be so carried on as to militate against the true social spirit. If the Interests of the team are placed above the Interests of clean sport, so that moral principles are sacri- ficed for the sake of victory, then team play Is abused; In exactly the same way as politics Is abused whenever party Is placed above country, and religion is abused when the In- terests of some sect is placed above the interests of the kingdom of God. But work as well as play Is essential to education. And in the days of youth there should be a good deal (but not too much) of genuine hard work, requiring application, diligence, and real effort; not so much In the interests of the work It- self, as in the interests of the boy or girl by whom It Is per- formed. As play aims at Immediate ends, which are In- trinsically interesting, and so the sense of effort is largely swallowed up In the pleasurable excitement, work usually alms at ends that are more remote and less Intrinsically in- teresting; and it, therefore, calls for greater conscious effort, and so develops the capacity for diligent application and THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 217 strenuous effort of will, in defiance of every outward ob- stacle and every inward disinclination. The question of the relation between work and play has been much discussed, and some rather elaborate formulae have been propounded to set forth that relation. It would not be surprising if It turned out that in the last analysis no clear line of distinction can be drawn between the two; and that such difference as exists is one of degree, depending on the quantity and quality of the interests involved. It is, therefore, not Inconceivable that in an ideal social order, in which all labor is performed under the most favorable con- ditions; in which each individual does the work for which he is best adapted, and receives the sort of preparation that will fit him in the highest degree for that work; all would put into their work the same zest as they put into their play. In such an ideal state of things work would shade off into play, and play into work, by imperceptible degrees. This condition, whether it is ever realized or no, should at all events be the educational as well as the legislative ideal. Education, whether theoretical or practical, can hardly bestow too much attention on the native instincts, and their issuance in the form of habits. These instincts in them- selves, though highly useful, are neither good nor bad, but their issue in habits may be either the one or the other. The problem of the educator, then, at this point, is the utlllzatioTi-., of instinct, its development, and maybe its modification through training and habit-formation. Take as an example the self-instincts. Under favorable conditions the native instinct of self-preservation should unfold Into a settled habit of planning and working for the best Interests of the individ- ual, having a view to property, position, social relations, and everything that bears upon the Individual well-being through- out life. The instinctive self-sensitiveness of early adoles- cence, which scarcely understands itself, and cannot tell whence it comes and whither it goes, should develop, under proper educational conditions, into the dignified self-respect 2i8 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE of mature years, which " feels a stain like a wound," abhors every form of personal vulgarity or dishonor, disdains to barter personal integrity for material gain, and becomes consciously imbued with an ideal of personal attainment and achievement which is the incentive to all worthy effort. It is the business of education to guide this development and determine its main direction. It will be fairly clear, from all our previous discussion, that education, from the standpoint of the cognitive facul- ties, will aim at the broadest and most fruitful culture of the rational mind, not merely for its own sake, but with a view to the proper control and direction of the whole inner life by rational insight. Whatever distinction and pre- eminence belongs to man among the animals, is due, no doubt, to the larger part played by the intelligence in the determination of his behavior, as compared with theirs; and whatever distinction and preeminence belongs to cer- tain races of men, and certain types of culture, is due to the same cause. The function of reason in the life of man is not to destroy and supersede the affective and instinctive powers, but to control and develop them. And the aim of the school should be, not to develop the intelligence of the pupil at the expense of his feelings and instincts, but to de- velop all the powers of his being, by means of the intelli- gence, and under its guidance and control. The ideal pro"-) duct of education is the man whose behavior is constantly/ determined by the highest principles of intelligence, but in whom that determination has become so habitual as to be, on each occasion, direct, spontaneous, free ; not labored, not requiring special reflection, nor any special effort, but bear- ing all the marks of a direct, instinctive response to the con- ditions present at the moment. Applying the general principles of pedagogy laid down in the early part of this chapter to the matter of aesthetic cul- ture, it seems to me desirable above all things that the pupil should begin in some such way as the boy referred to in Chapter XI began his study of architectural beauty. The THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 219 first thing In this case was actual contact with the thing that was beautiful; and then the thrill of emotional response thereto. This aroused the boy to an intellectual interest that spurred him on to the most eager and enthusiastic pur- suit of the subject, for the pure joy of it. This is the very quintessence of a " liberal education " in the best sense; and in this manner, it seems to me, all aesthetic education should begin, so far as possible, and, for that matter, all other edu- cation too. Specialization belongs not to the teens; or, if that is too sweeping a statement, we may at least maintain that specialization should not begin until near the close of the period. If these precious years of youth can be kepfT sacred to a broad, all-round culture, that dwarfs no one power in the interests of another, but conserves and de- velops every phase and facet of character, we shall perhaps save something yet from the all-devouring utilitarianism of the age in which we live. And the postponement of speciali- zation, thereby involved, will turn out to be, in the long run, 1 no loss at all, but a great gain, even in the interests of ex-j pertness and efficiency itself. Could we but devise some way by which the great subjects of the curriculum could be approached from an angle like that from which the boy re- ferred to approached the subject of architecture, it might be possible to find that educational values and individual inter- ests would lie in the same direction, and not in opposite direc- tions, as is too often the case. In moral education we have, in a very profound sense, the touchstone and the end of all other education whatever. For all values, in the last analysis, rest on ethical criteria; and all judgments of value must finally justify themselves on ethical grounds. The culture of the intellect is empha- sized in preceding remarks, not because knowledge has an absolute value in itself, but because it has a value which ultimately is to be stated only in ethical terms. The ethical end is intellectual, emotional and volitional, and the ethical end Is Identical with the educational end. It follows that the aim of all education, as I conceive 2 20 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE it, has been the real topic throughout the foregoing chapters ; and to state again the purpose of moral education would be a needless repetition. For the same reason the general principles of all education, dwelt upon at the beginning of this chapter, are specially and peculiarly ethical in their bearings and significance. The development of personality, or will (defined, after the manner of Kant, as the Practical Reason, or reason as controlling conduct in reference to Moral Law) to its highest possible condition of efficiency, must be the great pedagogical aim; but properly under- stood, it comprises and includes ajl culture whatever, of body and brain, of feeling and taste, of intellect and voli- ( tion. So conceived, the ultimate aim of all education is moral and spiritual. In a more specific sense, however, moral education is thought of as having in view the right and the wrong in conduct, and the training of the child in reference thereto. The element of training here, as distinct from teaching, be- comes relatively prominent, and moral education looks to the formation of good habits as well as clear insight. And in this connection there are one or two guiding principles that seem to me especially worthy of consideration. One of these has to do with the question as to how far, if at all, an appeal should be made, in moral training, to the reasoning power of the child. There are some eminent educators who take the view that children should not be reasoned with, but made to obey without question, the com- mands of their superiors ; that even in later childhood and in youth, implicit, unreasoned obedience should be demanded and exacted. This position is taken, we may presume, on the ground that reverence for authority, and respect for superiors, are essential qualities In moral character; and that, If these are not acquired In childhood and youth, it will be impossible afterwards to build up moral character or to re- alize that self-control which is one of its most essential com- ponents. In spite of the eminence of some of its advocates, I am THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 221 not able to convince myself of the soundness of this doc- trine. There is no doubt, of course, of the necessity of obedience on the part of the child. The habit of obedience to all properly constituted authority is essential to any decent social order, and one of the conditions of the realization of complete moral character. But, conceding all this, it still remains true that man is a rational being, intended for self-control and self-direction; whose behavior, normally and usually, should be autonomous; whose will should be the executive of his own judgment and not of that of an- other. If the one single principle of moral education, as Thistleton Mark says, is to put the scholar in possession of his own will, and make him the charioteer of his own soul,^ then that process should begin at the earliest possible moment in his education. If the aim of education is rational self-direction, then at every stage in the process of education the opportunity for the exercise of that rational self-direction should be provided. My conviction, therefore, is, that in the entire process of education from beginning to end, we should aim at a maxi- mum of reasoned and deliberate and free action, and at a minimum of implicit and unquestioning obedience to author- ity. In other words, I would leave no means untried of en- abling even the youngest child to understand the reason and the purpose of my commands, and so to render to them free and intelligent, rather than constrained and unintelli- gent obedience. Mechanical obedience should be required only where reasoned obedience Is In the nature of the case impossible. And even this that I have called mechanical obedience should be reasoned at least to this extent, that the child should be led to understand why he cannot understand the reason of the command in this case, and also to under- stand why he may trust the judgment of the parent or teacher, and yield himself to that for the time being. Obe- dience wrought out along these lines, is at the foundation of much that is most valuable, both in morals and religion. iMark, The Unfolding of Personality, Chicago, 1915. / / 222 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE It seems appropriate at this point to emphasize the im- portance of avoiding with the utmost care all such treat- ment of children as leaves behind it a sense of injustice rankling in their minds, whether warranted or unwarranted in strict logic. Too often the superior strength or the official authority of older persons is used to shut off all argu- ment in advance, and the child is forced to accept in silence what seems to him a false statement of the case. There are few things more detrimental to the disposition, the temper, and the whole character of the child, than this. Many parents who would not resort to corporal punishment under any circumstances, do nevertheless inflict this wrong upon their children, of refusing to listen to any statement from the child, or permit any discussion from the child's point of view. Corporal punishment may in some cases do good; but this sort of treatment can never do aught but harm. On another point also I find myself compelled to take a different view from that expressed by some eminent author- ities in education. It is sometimes maintained, with special reference to moral training, that a certain amount of early acquaintance with vice is a prophylactic against vice; that general badness of character can be forestalled and pre- vented if boys of ten or twelve (no one, so far as I know, has ventured to apply the prescription to girls) are permitted to cultivate a practical acquaintance with various forms of badness. This belief rests on an assumption of the baldest and most unsupported kind; namely, that early experience of general wickedness acts as a sort of inoculation against more serious wickedness later on, or as a kind of purge or cathartic, that cleanses the soul of its evil propensities, and enables the adolescent to begin in a condition of immunity against moral evil. This conclusion seems to be based on the analogy of physical ailments, such as mumps and measles, which are not supposed to strike more than once in the same place. Many an ignorant mother has deliberately exposed her child to physical contagion, in the hope that, by having THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 223 the disease now, he will be free from all danger of contract- ing it for the remainder of his life. Whatever one may say or think of the conduct of these mothers, the folly of exposing childhood to moral contagion, on the assumption that by so doing it may be rendered immune to moral evil, is too colossal for description. Unfortunately, the fact is that familiarity with evil does not strengthen the soul against evil, but usually has the very opposite effect. That a child who has been allowed to get a taste of ruffianism in his own experience, who has " sown his wild oats," and made a little blackguard of himself for two or three years, stands a better chance of growing up to be a respectable and useful citizen than he otherwise would, is a theory that has no facts to support it. It rests with one foot on a purely fanci- ful analogy between physical and moral disorders, and with the other on an analogy, almost as fanciful, between the stages of development in the individual and those in the race. Even supposing it to be true that our race has, in its onward progress, passed through various stages of development, and that one of these stages was markedly violent and preda- tory, it seems to be a pure assumption, devoid of the slight- est ground, that every individual of the race must of neces- sity pass through these same stages, including the predatory one. Though I believe this doctrine to be profoundly untrue, yet it may provide occasion for the remark that undue sheltering of the child sometimes is followed by a rebound, when the restraints of authority are removed, to the opposite extreme of moral license. But this only goes to prove the evil of arbitrary and cast-iron domination, in the child's moral life; and it does not provide any argument whatever for the opposite extreme. Both extremes are evil in their effects; the true middle way is that of fair and reasonable protection from moral contamination, not carried to the length of depriving the child of the opportunity of develop- ing self-control and mastery through the exercise of his own will power. One takes the hand of his child when about to 224 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE cross over a very dangerous piece of road, and yet one does not carry him over all slippery places; to do this would be to keep him a child forever. In moral training the same discretion should be observed, and similar avoidance of a reckless laissez faire method on the one hand, and a fussy, meddling, over-paternal, despotic moral discipline on the other. We come now to a question that is attracting much atten- tion at the present time ; the question, namely of the educa- tion of the young in matters of sex. Attention has already been called to the wide divergence of views as to the advisa- bility of giving instruction on this subject; and even where that question is answered affirmatively, there is still much difference of opinion as to when such instruction should begin, of what it should consist, how it should be carried on, and by whom it should be imparted. The broad general question may, without hesitation, be answered affirmatively. For man is a rational being, ob- viously intended to exercise control, through his reason, over the forces without and the forces within. As though in recognition of his superior equipment in this respect, he has been left less perfectly provided for by nature in many other respects than the lower animals. Nature provides them, for example, with clothing, ready made; whereas he, left un- clothed by nature, is equipped with an intelligence through which he can devise clothing for himself. Similarly, both he and they are endowed with the sex instinct, and in both the sex passion develops into great strength. And yet there are in the animal, along with this powerful appetite, certain conditions that operate to pre- vent its abuse and make detrimental excesses to a large ex- tent impossible. These natural safeguards do not exist to the same extent in man ; which is itself a hint that in his case intelligence is the rightful guardian of morality. But ra- tional guardianship is impossible without rational insight; and if man is to control the situation, he must understand THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 225 what the situation is. If he is to be master of himself, he must know himself. Not only as a deduction from general principles, but as an induction from observed facts, this proposition holds. A vast amount of moral waste has occurred in this connex- ion, through ignorance. Many pitiful tales could be told of moral and physical ruin that might have been entirely prevented through education in these matters. But when we have answered this general question in the affirmative, we are still a long way from having answered satisfactorily the other, more specific questions. Enormous difficulties are in the way, and become apparent as soon as the practical questions are fairly faced. Nor can these questions be answered independently of one another. Granting that the young should be educated in sex matters, when should that education begin? That depends on what is to be understood as " education in sex matters." If it means information concerning the special processes by which human reproduction is brought about; and especially if it includes any description of the feelings and passions aroused, then it certainly has no place in child- hood at all events. For such information is of no interest to the child, serves no good purpose, and is heavy-laden with possibilities of evil. But if the phrase " education in sex matters " be under- stood in a large, biological sense, and approached, not merely by way of the human family, but by way of all re- production in animal and plant life, then it can hardly begin too early. There is no single fact more obvious all through nature than the fact that the beginning of life requires duahty in parentage. It thrusts itself upon the child's at- tention. First of all in his own home. Fatherhood and motherhood are the earliest of his experiences; that he has a father and a mother is almost his first bit of acquired knowledge. Broadening out from this he discovers that other homes are like his in this respect; there, too, is a 226 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE father and a mother. After allowing for any special cases that may appear on the surface to be exceptional, the broad fact remains, and is impressed on the child's mind at every turn, that marriage is the condition upon which the exist- ence of children depends. Or, as an innocent child of six once said to me, entirely of her own accord, and apropos of nothing in the conversation, " You can't have children unless you're married " ; a scientific conclusion, one may call it, which she had arrived at through her own independent observation. With this broad biological generalization sex education should begin. Thus the home and the family provide the starting point for the child in all his knowledge of these matters. So far as pedagogy is concerned, the duality of parentage may be simply used, as a fact already familiar to the child, ex- tended somewhat, and applied in the inculcation of many of the finer virtues, such as kindness, love, helpfulness, filial devotion, sympathy; and to some extent in bringing home to girls the more specially feminine virtues, and to boys the more masculine ones. Thus far we are on very safe ground; for there is in all this none but the purest and best sugges- tions, and the facts used are such as every child must and will become cognizant of, whether his attention is called to them or not. The same fact — duality of parentage — in its less ob- vious and more recondite forms among the flora and fauna, may usually be best taught in the high school age, or in the upper years of the public school age, when boys and girls enter on the study of natural science. They will now dis- cover that reproduction requires, in this realm also, the con- joint operation of " male " and " female " elements. Full knowledge of plant forms cannot be imparted without in- cluding this fact; and here again there is no good reason ■why any evil results should follow such instruction. Before touching on the question of giving more definite in- struction later on, touching human reproduction and its means and instruments than is involved in this broad biolo- THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 227 gical treatment, let me point out that sex education means not only instruction, but training; and so has to do with de- sire, habit, and will, as well as intellect. So many pitfalls lie hard by this special realm of knowledge, that no means should be neglected of instilling into the mind of the child, from the earliest age, the purest ideas, and of training his will to the most wholesome habits. And this can be done without any direct reference to sex matters, and without in any way directing the child's attention to these things. That every part of the body should be cared for, kept clean, and used only for its normal and proper functions; that the whole body should be kept as strong and vigorous as possible; that any abuse of any part of the body should be regarded as a sin; this can be directly taught. Then again by less direct means the child's mind can be trained to habits of wholesome ideation. If his social environment is free from every trace of obscene suggestion, early habits of refined thinking will be acquired, which will prove a source of strength to the end of life. This positive factor (consisting of the general suggestions of a morally whole- some environment) is of infinitely greater value than the negative factor (consisting of sundry taboos, prohibitions, and suppressions, of what is regarded as undesirable). It may be taken as an axiom of all moral education that pro- hibition of what is bad should never be resorted to where it is possible to meet the situation by suggestion of what is good. Among these positive suggestions of a wholesome en- vironment (conveyed by example rather than precept) are the dignity of human personality, and the respect that is due to it everywhere, in the child's own person, as well as in the persons of others; the especial regard and consideration due to womanhood as such, first and chiefly to the child's own mother, and, secondarily, to all other women ; the avoidance of all undue familiarity, as well as of lavish^ emotional in- dulgence; and whatever tends to take the reins out of the hands of intelligence and put them into the hands of passion; 228 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE and, finally, the habit of reserve and personal reticence, es- pecially on matters touching the inner life of feeling and desire. I do not wish this last remark to be misunderstood. It is not meant that the inner life of the boy or girl should be wholly a sealed book to all other persons. On the con- trary, there is perhaps no other time in the whole life when the individual so much needs a confidant, and when he is so likely to profit from the right sort of counsel. But that counsel must be of the right sort, and that confidant must be the right sort of person, if the loss is not to exceed the gain. No more sacred and responsible task ever fell to any man or woman than this, and I should think that no- where would the penalty of failure or indiscretion be greater than at this point. What I am concerned to insist upon is this, that there is a certain reserve and native modesty, implanted in every normal boy and girl, which, it is my firm conviction, is by far the most powerful ally of the intelligence itself in pro- tecting the interests of individual character in the days of childhood and youth; and that anything tending to break it down or supersede it, would entail moral loss for which >^ there could be no conceivable compensation. And, there- fore, he who would undertake to instruct young persons in sex matters should be required to furnish guarantees in ad- vance, of his ability to give such instruction without under- mining or destroying this native modesty of the child's being. Otherwise his work, instead of being beneficial, is deleterious to the last degree, and in respect of the actual harm done, he is to be ranked among the lowest criminals^ Much adverse comment has been made on the failure of parents to give instruction on these matters to their sons and daughters; and there is little doubt that under ideal conditions this instruction would be given, as it certainly should be given, by fathers and mothers everywhere; and yet, when one considers the delicacy of the task, and the vast possibilities of evil where the work is done in the THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 229 ,wrong way, one cannot help feeling deep sympath,y wit^ .those fathers and mothers who shrink from it. And yet, in regard to this matter, and especially in regard ,to those more personal and emotional aspects of it which are certain to come to the fore in adolescence, it seems to me difEcult to find a really good substitute for the parent. It is scarcely less than a tragedy thpjt any boy or girl, per- j)lexed and, it piay be, distressed, at the new phenomena that are showijig .themselves in the psycho-physical organism, should not feel free to ask his parents for counsel in regard thereto, but should betake himself to other advisors. The tragic feature of it is just this, that some outside party should succeed in winning the confidence of the child, where ■his own parents have failed, and that he should reveal the secrets of his heart to others and keep them hidden from bis father and mother. Where the opposite conditions ob- tain, and the child goes to his parents for counsel on all matters, with perfect naturalness and spontaneity, because he has always been encouraged so to do, we hear little or nothing of moral disasters resulting from ignorance, or of evil habits formed through lack of guidance and advice. But education in these matters has a much broader pur- ,pose than merely to break up evil habits, or even to prevent their formation. It aims so to build up character, to impart information, to develop habits of wholesome thinking, emo- tion, and action, that to every possible situation the boy or girl will react in the highest ethical fashion; that love, marriage, the home, parenthood, and family life, may be exalted and dignified, and a legacy of moral and physical soundness handed on to the generations following. In this task the parents, though taking the chief part, should not be alone; but the school, the church, and every other social institution, should co-operate with the home in the achieve- ment of the desired results. Our whole task culminates and ends in the discussion of , the religious education of the adolescent. If our race has 230 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE come into possession of a true religion, or even a religion that is true in all its main essentials, though containing ele- ments of error in its details ; if we have a religion that pre- sents the Supreme Being in a light that is essentially worthy; a religion the acceptance of whose doctrines and the obser- vance of whose prescribed practices are favorable to the highest morality and to the happiest social order; a religion that makes for refinement and culture; that fosters the best in all our civilization and yet continually rebukes that civilization for its shortcomings and points the way to better things; a religion that sweetens and purifies every relation- ship of the life that now is, and fortifies the soul with hope and courage regarding the life that is to come; then the acceptance and propagation of that religion, as well as its correction, becomes the duty of all honest men and women, and especially should we recognize the obligation to " teach it diligently unto our children." y The true end of all education is the complete realization of the ideal of personality. The character of this ideal can- not be determined by physical, biological, or even psycholog- ical considerations, taken by themselves, but must be defined in the broadest and most comprehensive terms, with moral and spiritual criteria as the final determinants of value. The ideal product of the educational process is a balanced person- ality; one whose body is the perfect servant of his will, carrying into effect the behests of a trained intelligence and the requirements of a scrupulous conscience; whose judg- ment is so disciplined as not to be readily turned aside by falsehood or befogged by sophistry; whose emotions are deep and strong, but under perfect control; and whose con- duct is consistently directed in accordance with the require- ments of truth and goodness. The thing of supreme importance, as it seems to me, is to secure a real balance and unity of the whole life, under the unifying force of the highest conceptions. It is only thus that religious vagaries can be avoided, and religious fitfulness forestalled. The very essence of a genuinely re- THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 231 ligious character lies in its wholeness, its spiritual and psy- cho-physical sanity. In the religious education of the child, then, the term " religion " should have a broad interpretation. Scarcely any object in nature, scarcely any event or relationship in human experience, scarcely any power or capacity possessed by the child, will prove quite devoid of religious significance. Nor need one labor continually, in the way of homily and didactic, to bring out this religious significance. The thing to be borne always in mind is that the religious life is simply life itself at its fullest and best; of which the converse is this, that when life is being lived at its fullest and best, it is essentially religious. Religion is not some transplanted exotic, it must realize itself in the individual character and conduct. And to this realization almost everything may be contributory: the flowers and trees and fruits; the birds and the beasts; the products of the soil, the mine, the forest, and the sea; the processes of nature, and the works of men's hands; even food and clothing, and the familiar things of home life. If in childhood God is recognized as the creator of these objects, and the giver of " every good and perfect gift," not at all In any labored fashion, or with any awesome or mystical meaning, but in that simple, natural way, in which the child so readily in- terprets his blessings and acknowledges the goodness of their source, the result Is a genuinely religious achievement. This is what we mean by saying that the religious life Is just life itself, at Its healthiest and best; that the religious Inter- pretation of things is just the truest and broadest and high- est interpretation; that religious behavior is just behavior in its best sense; and that religious duty is just duty, most adequately conceived and most fully carried out. There are many features about the period of youth that make it a time of special opportunity for the religious teacher. Most of these have been pointed out in the fore- going chapters. There is abounding life, vitality, and vigor. There is a maximum of enthusiastic interest in things, and 232 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE a minimum of q^^nicism and bitterness. Hope is unclouded, faith is buoyant, and charity is broad and generous. The intellect is easily persuaded into regarding all things as products of supreme wisdom and all events as under the control of supreme beneficence. Youth is by nature theistic and idealistic. The moral attitude is not mercenary. Disinterested de- votion to others, and to duty for its own sake, can be counted on; more than in childhood, whose conceptions are restricted in area, concrete in quality, and largely under the control of the empirical ego ; and more than in mature life, when the heart may have become chilled by contact with a social order that is honeycombed with injustice and cruelty, when altruism and idealism are found to have but little value in the world's markets, and when the roseate dreams and visions of an earlier age are only too likely to have faded into the light of common day. The touch of living personality, as found in the members of his own family, his school companions, his acquaintances of the other sex, his teachers and elders, whether in school or church, meets, at this time of life, with its readiest and warmest response. And, as I have said, response to the touch of personality is the tap-root of religion. Substitute for all finite and fallible personalities that of the infinitely good and great, and in the response to that you have the essence of religion. /The heart in youth is hungry for com- munion with a personality that is worthy of adoration and service, eager to let itself go out to such a personality in service and sacrifice^. The problem of the Christian teacher here is not so much to convince the Intellect of the truth of certain abstract propositions about Christ, as to hold up before the pupil the exquisite personality of Christ, as worthy of the highest devotion and the most complete serv- ice that can be rendered. From the pedagogical point of view Christianity possesses, in the character of its founder, an immeasurable advantage over all other religions that have sought to win the adherence of the sons of men. THE PEDAGOGY OF ADOLESCENCE 233 We have referred in previous chapters to the progressive unification of the psychic powers and the progressive inte-j gration of the psychic processes and contents, that mark the] advance from immaturity to maturity.' This process is in full swing in the adolescent years. It has its physical basis ' in the integration of the nervous system, which is the ap- paratus and the vehicle of mental activity. ' It has its in- tellectual aspect in the development and consohdation o^ the apperceptive centers and systems. It has its moral as- pect in the progressive organization of desires and pur- \ poses about a common center, and the subordination of allj partial and special ends under one supreme end or life,- purpose. It has its theological aspect in that supreme syn4 thesis in which all things in nature and human experience are apprehended in their common relation to a Supreme Being, in whom they consist, who is the ground of their explanation, and the final cause of their existence. Religion, on its rational side, means the persistent effort to complete this ultimate synthesis, to give logical formula- tion to the content of faith, and to " see all things in God." The mind in youth requires but little stimulation in this direction. It has a zest for this sort of activity. And if, in its pursuit of these profound questions, it encounters difficulties, and feels the temptation to doubt, the remedy lies, not in closing the door upon such inquiries, but in fling- ing it more widely open. These searchings and probings, these investigations/ and criticisms, are important factors in the development of the mental powers, as well as valuable means by which the mind may come into possession of the reasoned religious convictions of maturity, in place of the unreasoned religious convictions of immaturity. It is desirable, however, that the youthful inquirer should realize the limitations of his mental powers, and that he should not insist on having all his problems solved over- night. If this can be accomplished, he will be saved a great deal of unnecessary spiritual unrest, without having any hurtful handicap laid upon the process of investigation. 234 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE Religion, in its emotional aspects, calls for the develop- ment of sympathy, reverence, positive and negative self- feeling in true proportion, and above all, love, directed first to God, and then to all that God loves. The religious teacher will find in the heart of the adolescent a soil highly favorable to the germination and growth of emotional qual- ities. One of his tasks will be, I think, to see to it that religious experience does not begin and end in mere emo- tion. True emotion is the child of ideas, the product of reflection and conviction. Shallow and specious emotion may be aroused readily enough by imagery, oratory, music, pictures, and the like, without any real solid thinking. This kind of religious experience is distinguished chiefly by its evanescence. On the other hand, it seems quite possible to present the intellectual content of religion in such a way as to make practically no impingement on the emotions. This is, if possible, a worse error than the other, since love, rather than knowledge, is at the heart of religion. " Though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and have not love, I am nothing." The ideal of religious education is such a clear and true conception of God, and of the meaning and purpose of human life in re- lation to God, as shall keep the fires of love and reverence and devotion burning with a bright and steady flame. Having said this, we hardly need add anything regard- ing the motor or volitional aspect of religious education. The springs of action lie in clear conceptions and strong convictions as to the supreme value of certain ends, together with the emotional glow which these engender. Men are always ready enough to labor for that which they love, and that which they are persuaded is worth while. Faith and love and conviction not only issue naturally in service, but they require the outgoing or motor activities in order to complete themselves. Unless they find an outlet in serv- ice, they fail to develop ; they smother and die. 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Tutorial Press, 19 12. Child Mind, London Univ. Tutorial Press, 1914. Durkheim, E., Les Formes elementaires de la vie religieuse, Eng. trans., J. W. Swain, 1915. Ellis, Havelock, Studies in the Psychology of Sex, F. A. Davis Co., 1914. Exner, M. J. (M.D.), Sex Education and the High School Age, R. E., Vol. XI, No. 6, Dec, 1916. Fiske, G. W., Boy Life and Self-Government, Association Press, 1916. Fiske, J., The Meaning of Infancy, Houghton Mifflin Co., 1909. Flachs, A., Zur Frage der Sexuellen Aufklarung, Zeits fiir Schul- gesundheitspflege. Vol. XVII, 1904. Forbush, W. B., The Social Pedagogy of Boyhood, Ped. Sem., Vol. VII, 1900. Child Study and Child Training, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1915. Forel, The Sexual Question, Rebman Co., 1908. Galloway, G., The Principles of Religious Development, The Macmillan Co., 19 10. Griggs, E. H., Moral Education, Huebsch, 1905. Groos, K., The Play of Animals, D. Appleton & Co., 1898. The Play of Man, D. Appleton & Co., 1901. Gulick, L., Studies of Adolescence, Association Boys, New York, 1902-3. BIBLIOGRAPHY 239 Hall, G. S., The Story of a Sand Pile, Scribner's Magazine, Vol. Ill, 1888. Some Fundamental Principles of Sunday School and Bible Teach- ing, Ped. Sem., Vol. VIII, igoi. Hall, G. S. and Smith, Theodate L., Showing OfE and Bash- fulness as Phases of Self-consciousness, Ped. Sem., Vol. X, 1903. Hall, G. S., Adolescence, D. Appleton & Co., 1904. The Needs and Methods of Educating Young People in the Hygiene of Sex, Ped. Sem., Vol. XV, 1908. Educational Problems, D. Appleton & Co., 191 1. Youth; Its Education, Regimen, and Hygiene, D. Appleton & Co., 191 2. Hall, W. S., From Youth into Manhood, Association Press, 6th Ed., 1913. Hartshome, H., Childhood and Character, Pilgrim Press, 1919. Haslett, S. B., The Pedagogical Bible School, Revell, 1903. Herbert, S., An Introduction to the Physiology and Psychology of Sex, Black, 191 7. James, Wm., The Principles of Psychology, Henry Holt & Co., 1890. The Varieties of Religious Experience, Gifford Lectures (1901-2), Longmans, Green & Co., 12th Impression, 1906. Talks to Teachers on Psychology, Longmans, Green & Co., New Impression, 1905. Johnson, J., Rudimentary Society Among Boys, Johns Hopkins University Studies, Vol. II, 1884. Jones, Rufus M., Religious Education of the Individual for Social Life, Proc. R. E. A., 1908. Keay, J., A Case of Insanity at Adolescence, Jour, of Mental Science, Vol. XXXIV, 1888-89. Kemsies, F., Die Sexuelle Aufklarung der Jugend. Zeits. fiir Pad. Psy. u. Hygiene., Vol. VIII, 1906. Kennedy, Helen P., Effect of High School Work upon Girls dur- ing Adolescence, Ped. Sem., Vol. Ill, 1894. King, H. C, Religious Education as Conditioned by Modern Psychology and Pedagogy, Proc. R. E. A., 1903. Personal and Ideal Elements in Education, The Macmillan Co., 1904. 240 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE King, Irving, The High School Age, The Bobbs-Merrill Co., 19 U- Kingsford, B., Coeducation during Adolescence, Child Study, Vol. IV, 1912. Kirkpatrick, E. A., Fundamentals of Child Study, The Mac- millan Co., 1903. The Individual in the Making, Houghton Mifflin Co., 191 1. Kuno, E. E., How a Knovi^ledge of the Characteristics of the Adolescent Boy may Aid one in Directing his Conduct, Fed. Sem., Vol. XXI, 1914. Lancaster, E. G., The Psychology and Pedagogy of Adolescence, Ped. Sem., Vol. V, 1897-8. Leuba, J. H., A Psychological Study of Religion, The Macmil- lan Co., 1912. Lyttleton, E., Training of the Young in the Laws of Sex, Long- mans, Green & Co. MacCunn, J., The Making of Character, The Macmillan Co., 6th Impression, 1916. Mark, Thistleton, The Unfolding of Personality as the .Chief aim in Education, Univ. of Chicago Press, 1915. Marro, A., La Puberta, Fratelli Bocca, 1900. Pubertal Hygiene in relation to Pedagogy and Sociology. Am. Jour, of Sociology, Vol. VI, 1900. McDougall, Wm., An Introduction to Social Psychology, Meth- uen, 1908. Mendousse, P., L'ame de I'adolescent, F. Alcan, 191 1. Moll, A., The Sexual Life of the Child, Eng. trans., E. Paul, The Macmillan Co., 1913. Morgan, C. Lloyd, Habit and Instinct, Edward Arnold, 1896. Mumford, E. E. R., The Dawn of Religion in the Mind of the Child, Longmans, Green & Co., 1915. Murray, W. C, From One to Twenty-one, R. D. Eraser, 1904. Northcote, H., Christianity and Sex Problems, David & Co., and Ed., 1917. Palmer, G. H., Ethical and Moral Instruction in Schools, Hough- ton Mifflin Co., 1909. Partridge, G. E., Blushing, Ped. Sem., Vol. IV, 1896-7. Patrick, G. T, W., The Psychology of Play, Ped. Sem., Vol. XXI, 1914- BIBLIOGRAPHY 241 Pratt, J. B., The Psychology of Religious Belief, The Macmil-' Ian Co., 1907. The Psychology of Religion, Jour, of Religious Psychology, Oct., 1912. The Religious Consciousness, The Macmillan Co., 1920. Puffer, J. A., Boys' Gangs, Ped. Sem., Vol. XII, 1905. Queyrat, F., La Logique chez I'Enfant, Alcan, 1902. Reaney, M. J., The Psychology of the Boy Scout Movement, Ped. Sem., Vol. XXI, 1914. Richardson, N. E., The Religious Education of Adolescents, Abingdon Press, 19 18. Rush, R. R., The Religious Education of the Child, Longmans, Green & Co., 1915. Sandiford, P., The Mental and Physical Life of School Children, Longmans, Green & Co., 19 15. The Education of the Adolescent, Proc. Saskatchewan Educa- tional Association, 19 17. Scharlieb, Mary (M.D.), Adolescent Girls, from the Viewpoint of the Physician, Child Study, Vol. IV, 1912. How to Enlighten our Children, Revell, 1918. Recreational Activities of Girls during Adolescence, Child Study, Vol. IV, 191 1. Schmidt, Clara, The Teaching of the Facts of Sex in the Pub- lic School, Ped. Sem., Y^. XVII, 1910. Scott; C. A., Sex and Art, Km. Jour. Psy., Vol. VII, 1896. Psychology of Puberty and Adolescence, Proc. N. E. A., 1897. Shand, A. F., The Foundations of Character, The Macmillan Co., 1914. Sharp, F. C, Education for Character, The Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1917. Sheldon, H. D., The Institutional Activities of American Chil- dren, Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. IX, 1898. Sinclair, S. B. and Tracy, Frederick, Introductory Educational Psychology, The Macmillan Co. of Canada, 1909. Slattery, Margaret, The Girl in her Teens, S. S. Times Co., 1 9 10. Slaughter, J. W., The Adolescent, George Allen and Numin, 191 1. Smith, Theodate L., Types of Adolescent Affection, Ped. Sem., Vol. XI, 1904. 242 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE Sneath and Hodges, Moral Training in the School and Home, The Macmillan Co., 1913. Sneath, Hodges and Tweedy, Religious Training in the School and Home, The Macmillan Co., 1916. Starbuck, E. D., Religious Education as a Part of General Edu- cation, Proc. R. E. A., 1903. The Child Mind and Child Religion, Biblical World, 1907. The Psychology of Religion, Walter Scott Pub. Co., 3rd Ed., 191 1. Stratton, G. M., Psychology of the Religious Life, Allen, 191 1. Street, J. R., A Study in Moral Education, Ped. Sem., Vol, V, 1897-8. Swift, E. J., Youth and the Race, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1915. Tanner, Amy E., The College Woman's Code of Honor, Ped. Sem., Vol. XIII, 1906. Tawney, G. A., The Period of Conversion, Psy. Rev., Vol. XL Thomson and Geddes, Sex, Home University Library, 1914. Thorndike, E. L., Notes on Child Study, The Macmillan Co., 1903. The Elements of Psychology, and Ed., A. G. Seiler, 1907. Heredity, Correlation and Sex Differences in School Abilities, Co- lumbia University Contributions to Philosophy, Psychology and Education, Vol. XI, No. 2. Individuality, Htoughton Mifflin Co., 1911. Educational Psychology, Teachers College, Columbia University, 1913- Tracy, Frederick, The Psychology of Childhood, D. C. Heath & Co., 1st Ed., 1893; 7th Ed., 1909. The Teacher and the School, R. D. Eraser, 1904. Kinderpsychologie in England und Nord Amerika, Zeits. fiir Pad. Path. u. Therapie, 1890. A Scientific Basis for Religious and Moral Education from the Standpoint of Ethics, Proc. R. E. A., 1904. Habit in the Religious Life, R. E., Vol. Ill, 1908. The Little Child and the Moral Order, Proc. Ontario Education Assocn., 191 6. Wagner, Chas, Youth, Dodd, Mead & Co. Weigle, L. A., The Pupil and the Teacher, Hodder & Stoughton, 1911. White, W. A., The Court of Boyville, The Macmillan Co., BIBLIOGRAPHY 243 Winch, W. H., The Psychology and Philosophy of Play, Mind (N. S.), Vol. XV, 1906. Withrow, O. C. J. (M.D.), Talks on Sex Education, F. D. Goodchild, 1919. Wroe, Margaret, A., Sex in Education. Child Life, Vol. VI, 1904- Ziehen, Theodore, Die Geisteskrankheiten des Kindesalters mit besonderer Beriichsichtigung des Schulpflichtigen Alters, Samme. Von Abhand. d. Gebiete der Pad. Psy. u. Physiol., Berlin, 1904. INDEX Adolescence, 5 ; first period of, 44 f. ; second period of, 45 f . Esthetics, 148-159, 218 f. Alexander, J. L., 37. Altruism, 179. Animals, 160 f. Appetite, 34-5. Balfour, A. J., 78, 159. Blood, circulation of, 29. Body, the, 24-36; growth of, 26 f. Boyhood, 12 f., 109. Brain, 29. Bunyan, John, 201. Caird, Edward, 84. Caldo, 147. Childhood, 11; characteristics of, 12, 109, 167. Children and adults, 3 f. Christ, 232. Coe, G. A., 54, 125. Color, 86. Conception, 94 f. Construction, instinct of, 67 f. Control, 8, inf.; muscular, 113, 207 f. Conversion, 191 f., 195 f. Conviction, 196 f. Curiosity, 67. Doubt, 98 f., 191 f. Games, 108. Greeks, educational ideal of, 33-34. Habit, 47, 109 f., 113-H8, 217. Hall, G. S., 167. Hallucinations, 99. Haslett, S. B., 36. Health, 34. Hearing, 86 f. Height, 28. Hero-worship, 181, 215. Home, 213 f. Hume, David, 121. Imagination, 90-91, 97. Imitation, uz. Insanity, 100, 131. Instinct, 47-69 ; social, 60 f . ; sexual, 64; parental, 64, 217. Intellect, 41, 83-100. Interest, 108 f. James, William, 48, 53, 63, 106, 122. Judgment, 94 f. Justice, 222. Juvenile criminality, 175 f. Kant, i6j, 220. King, I., 214. Lancaster, E. G., 150. Larynx, 30. Life-stages, 2, 9-23. Love, 136. Education, i2o; physical, 215 f.; moral, 219 f.; sex, 224-229; re- Lukens, H. T., 155. ligious, 229-235. Lungs, 30. Emotion, 70-82; primary vs. second- Lying, i68 f. ary, 72 f. ; James' theory of, 73 f . Eugenics, 136. Mark, T,, 221. Marshall, H. R., 71. Feeling, 41 f. McDougal, W., 48, 57, 72, 73. Freedom, 209, 221. Maturity, 19 f. 24s 246 INDEX Memory, 89-90. Mind, in general, 37-46; states of, 39 f. Moods, 80, 99, 108. Morals, 25, 120, 160-181, 232. Morgan, C. Lloyd, 48. Muscles, 30. Music, 153. Nature, 77 f., 86, 212 f. Nerves, 30, 102 f. Nicoll, Sir W. R., no. Pedagogy, 206-235. Perception, 94 f. Personality, 180, 213 f., 232. Pictorial art, 153 f. Plato, 157-8. Play, 61 f., 216 f. Procreation, 136. Property, instinct of, 66 f., 124 f. Puberty, 16 f. Punishment, 177 f. Reasoning, 93 f. Recapitulation, theory of, 22, 223. Religion, 25, 120, 130, 141-2, 157, 182-205. Repulsion, instinct of, 68. Royce, J., 122. School, 214. Scott, C. A., 156. Self (ego), 40 f., 55 f, 121 f. Self-abasement, 58. Self-assertion, 58. Self-consciousness, 119-131. Self-examination, 165 f. Self-preservation, instinct of, 123. Senescence, 21-22. Senses, 85. Sex, 31 f., 76, 126 f., 132-147, 156. Sexes, differences between, i34f. Sight, 86. Skeleton, 30 f. Smell, 88. Social consciousness, 125. Space, perception of, 86. Spencer, Herbert, 182, 209. Suicide, 171 f. Tanner, A. E., 141. Teleology, 6 f ., 64. Temperature, 88-9. Tennyson, 146. Theft, 167 f., 173 f. Thomson and Geddes, 136. Touch, 87. Tracy, F., 153, 162. Training, 220. Vices, 168 f. Vocation, 128. Volition (also Will), 42, 100-118. V7eight, 27. Youth, period of, n. ;. I'-.'''!'!'! ,1