::;| lillllilllllliililllllllilllllllllllin lllillllllilll! ' i 1 1 In 11 liilSAiiii , ! ! ! I' ' ! i'li M I, I ill l!|i|l 'ill ,1 ill" 1 . I ■■Hfi untifflHii i ill: mi i i ■ n,[ Mu ii 111] ll'li ll! I mi i II m inn iiiillllllllliiiiiiilili!, HiJ 1 lllllillll I'll! I llllilllll €mmll IKmtfmitg |f itog BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME PROM THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OP Henry W. £age 189X JiJAZ^M. g/S/^y-g-a- 5474 arV15315 New psycholoi Cornell University Library 3 1924 031 282 506 olin,anx Places for ewry Occasion By Caroline B. LeRow Compiler of "A Well-Planned Course in Reading " Bound in cloth Price, $1.23 The selections included in this volume are in harmony with the spirit of class room work, which demand brevity, simplicity, good sense and sound morality. This is the only compilation of the kind in which these matters are considered as of equal importance with elocutionary effect. Very few of the pieces are to be found in any other book. That Miss LeRow has provided pieces for every occasion, the following summary bears evidence. The volume contains Pieces for Lincoln's Birthday Pieces for Flag Day Pieces for Washington's Birthday Pieces for Easter Pieces for Arbor Day Pieces for Decoration Day Pieces for Graduating and Closing Days Pieces for Fourth of July Pieces for Thanksgiving Day Pieces for Christmas Pieces for New Years Concert Recitations Selections for Musical Accompaniment Pieces for Other Less Observed Occasions The observance of our poets' birthdays has become such a pleasant and profitable custom in our schools, that pieces have been provided for these anniversaries as well. Besides these selections for special occasions, there will be found a large number of recitations suitable for almost any occa- Hon. You may be interested to know that we also publish Handy Pieces to Speak, price 50c. , Acme Declamation Book 50c, Three-Minute Declamations for College Men $1.00, Three-Minute Readings for College Girls $1.00, Pieces for i?rize Speaking Contests $1.25, New Dialogues and Plays (primary, intermediate and advanced) $1.50, Commencement Parts (valedictories, salutatories, essays, etc.) $1.50, Pros and Cons (both sides of live questions fully discussed) $1. 50 — any of which we shall be glad to send you on approval, HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers 4*6-J2-J3-J4 Cooper Institute New York City NEW DIALOGUES AND PLAYS PRIMARY— INTERMEDIATE— ADVANCED Adapted from the popular works of well-known authors by BINNEY GUNNISON Instructor in the School of Expression, Boston; formerly Instructor in Elocution in Worcester Acad- emy and in the Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. Cloth, 650 Pages - - - Price, $J.50 Too many books of dialogues have been published with- out any particular reference to actual performance on plat- form or stage. There are no suggestions of stage business ; the characters neither enter nor leave ; while the dialogue progresses, no one apparently moves or feels emotion. Noth- ing is said at the beginning of the dialogue to show the situa- tion of the characters; no hints are given as to the part about to be played. In plays, as ordinarily printed, there is very little to show either character or situation — all must be found out by a thorough study of the play. This may be well for the careful student, but the average amateur has no time, and often only little inclination, to peruse a whole play or a whole novel in order to play a little part in an enter- tainment. Perhaps the strongest feature of our book is the carefully prepared introduction to each dialogue. Not only are the characters all named in order of importance, but the charac- teristics, the costumes, the relation of one to another, age, size, etc., are all mentioned. Most important of all is what is called the "Situation." Here the facts necessary to a clear comprehension of the dialogue following are given very concisely, very briefly, but, it is hoped, adequately for the purpose in hand. The story previous to the opening of the dialogue is related ; the condition of the characters at the beginning of the scene is stated ; the setting of the plat- form is carefully described. There has been no book of dialogues published containing so much of absolutely new material adapted from the best literature and gathered from the most recent sources — this feature will be especially appreciated. May we send you a copy for inspection subject to your approval ? HINDS & NOBLE Publishers of 3-Minute Declamations for College Men i 3-Minute Readings for College Girls, Handy Pieces to Speak Acme Declamation Book, Pros & Cons (Complete Debates) Commencement Parts (Orations, Essays, Addresses), Pieces for Prize Speaking Contests (in press). 4-5-J3-J4 Cooper Institute New York CiV NEW PSYCHOLOGY x- BY J. P. GORDY, Ph.D., LL.D. HEAD OF THE PEDAGOGICAL DEPARTMENT OF THE OHIO STATE UNIVERSi., Copyright, 1898, by Hinds &» Noilt HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers 4-5-13-14 Cooper Institute, New York City T w J /*7< 03 {>■ First edition, March, 1898. Second edition, May, 1898. Third edition, September, 1898. Fourth edition, October, 1898. Fifth edition, December, 1898. Sixth edition, January, 1899. Seventh edition, January, 1900. Eighth edition, October, 1900. Ninth edition, February, 1901. Tenth edition, June, 1901. Eleventh edition, September, 1301. Twelfth edition, February, 1901. a.i^I^H; WE ARE ACTING As the Agents of numerous Educational Institutions, large and small, throughout the country, for the purchase and forward- ing of all Text-books used therein. Our exceptional facilities enable us to attend to this line of business with the utmost promptness, and we save our customers the delay and uncertainty of correspondence and dealings with numerous publishers, express companies, etc We can present no better testimony as to the success of our efforts in this direc- tion, than the cordial approval of our old patrons, who are constantly sending us new customers. We have purchased the stock and good- mil of the New York School Book Clearing House, which firm retires from business. HINDS & NOBLE, 4 Cotper Institute, - New York City. PREFACE. That the most effective teaching is impossible without an acquaintance with the elementary principles of Psy- chology, is no longer a debated question. Fortunately there are many who are " born teachers." Even they are more successful when to a " certain instinct for teaching " they have added a knowledge of Psychology. Still more helpful to a genuine success is a knowledge of the Mind to the plodding rank and file, that large body of earnest men and women teachers whose really splendid equipment for their profession is to be credited to unremitting hard work inspired by an honest ambition to win success, and a sturdy determination to avail themselves of every approved resource. This book has been written principally for the special benefit of that large number of progressive young teachers who have not enjoyed the benefits of a college education, but who nevertheless are striving without the aid of an instructor to make their work rational and therefore more efficient by basing it on a knowledge of the Mind. The division of the subject matter into "Lessons," while ad- mirably adapting the book to the special requirements of teachers' reading circles, was particularly intended by the author to supply the need of a practicable text-book for iii IV PREFACE. classes in Psychology. Having embodied in these pages the experience of many years in teaching Psychology not only to teachers but also to pupils in the schools, the author believes that he has provided a classbodk that the teacher may place with confidence in the hands of his pupils, and the superintendent or Normal School instructor in the hands of his training classes. It is hoped that the " Questions " following each Lesson will enhance its help- fulness both to the teacher and the student. The author ventures to hope that the emphasis laid upon the limitations of Physiological Psychology and upon education as a preparation for rational living; above all, that his constant effort to keep the essential difficulties of the subject in such full view as to prevent the student from mistaking his easy mastery of this elementary book for a real mastery of the science of which the book treats — are essential features which will be commended. The object of the author throughout has been to call the attention of his readers to important mental facts in such a way as to set them to observing their own minds and the minds of their pupils, in order to see for them- selves the usefulness of the facts and the experience so gained, their application to the daily work of teaching, and their inestimable value as an added factor toward success. Profoundly convinced as he is of the importance of a knowledge of Psychology to the teacher, he is quite as strongly convinced that the only really fruitful knowledge of Psychology which the teacher will ever gain, he will derive from a study of his own mind and the minds of the people with whom he comes in contact, and that books about Psychology are useful chiefly as they give sugges- tions in this direction. In other words, the aim of the PREFACE. V author has been to act the part of a guide in a strange city — to tell his readers where to look to find valuable truths. If he succeeds in stimulating them to become diligent students of their own minds and the minds of their pupils, he will be more than satisfied. The author wishes to make acknowledgment to his col- leagues, Dr. Bleile and Mr. Wissler, for suggestions relating to the chapters on Physiological Psychology. THE PUBLISHERS. CONTENTS. LESSON I. PAGB The Benefits of Psychology to the Teacher . . i LESSON II. The Benefits of Psychology to the Teacher — continued 8 LESSON III. Body and Mind 16 LESSON IV. The Central Nervous System 25 LESSON V. The Functions of the Nervous System ... 41 LESSON VI. The Functions of the Cerebrum 53 LESSON VII. What is Psychology? 65 LESSON VIII. The Subject Matter of Psychology .... 72 vii Vlll CONTENTS. LESSON IX. rKaE The Method of Psychology 77 LESSON X. Necessary Truths and Necessary Beliefs ... 86 LESSON XI. What are we Conscious of? 94 LESSON XII. Attention 103 LESSON XIII. Attention — continued 1 10 LESSON XIV. Attention — continued 1 18 LESSON XV. Attention — continued 130 LESSON XVI. Attention — continued 142 LESSON XVII. Knowing, Feeling, and Willing 152 - LESSON XVIII. Sensation 163 LESSON XIX. Sensation — continued . ." 173 LESSON XX. The Law of Habit , 183 CONTENTS. IX LESSON XXI. Association of Ideas 196 LESSON XXII. Perception 208 LESSON XXIII. Perception — continued 215 LESSON XXIV. Perception and Education 224 LESSON XXV. Memory 234 LESSON XXVI. The Cultivation of the Memory 242 LESSON XXVII. Imagination 255 LESSON XXVIII. Imagination — continued 263 LESSON XXIX. Conception 273 LESSON XXX. Conception — continued 281 LESSON XXXI. Conception — continued 288 LESSON XXXII. Conception — continued ....... 296 X CONTENTS. LESSON XXXIII. PAG8 Judgment 3°5 LESSON XXXIV. Judgment — continued 3 12 LESSON XXXV. Reasoning 320 LESSON XXXVI. Reasoning — continued 329 LESSON XXXVII. Reasoning — continued 339 LESSON XXXVIII. Apperception 346 LESSON XXXIX. Apperception — continued 354 LESSON XL. Nature of Development 364 LESSON XLI. The End of Education 373 LESSON XLII. The Study of Individuals 384 Appendix A, B 394 Index 395 GORDY'S NEW PSYCHOLOGY. LESSON I. THE BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER. We all believe that it is worth while to study a great many things of which we do not expect to make any practi- cal use. You believe, for example, that it is a good thing to study algebra and geometry, not because you think the knowledge of them is likely to be useful to you — unless you should be called upon to teach them — but because you think the study of them will develop your mind. Reasons for Studying Psychology. — Probably that is one of the reasons why you wish to study Psychology. And it certainly is a good reason for studying it. Few subjects are better calculated to develop the power of thinking than Psychology. You know that the way to develop any power of the mind is to use it, and it is quite impossible to make any headway in studying Psychology without thinking. That is the reason why it is so hard. Develops Power of Thought. — When any one makes an assertion about your mind — and that is what human 2 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. Psychology consists of, assertions about your mind and the minds of all human beings — it is often, indeed generally, impossible to realize what it means without thinking. Thus, suppose I say that a mental fact is known directly to but one person, and that one the person experiencing it. In order to realize what that means, you have to look into your own mind for an example of a mental fact. You recall the oft-repeated assertion, no one knows what any one thinks but himself, and you realize that a thought is a mental fact known to but one person directly, and that one the person experiencing it. But in order to know what other facts are mental facts, you must think long and carefully, Until you have made up your mind just what facts are known to but one person directly, and that one the person experiencing them. Even when you can understand an assertion that any one makes about your mind without looking into your own mind, it is generally necessary for you to do so before you can decide intelligently whether or not it is true. If any one says that you can not get the continuous attention of your pupils without asking questions, or without giving them some other motive for attending besides interest, that statement can be understood without special effort. But in order to determine whether or not it is true, you must look into your own mind. You must ask yourself whether any one can keep your attention for a half or three-quarters of an hour simply by being interesting. If you set about answering it in the right way, you will think until you recall some speaker who never asked you ques- tions, or did anything except try to interest you to keep your attention, but who was interesting ; then I am sure you will remember that when he was speaking your mind PRACTICAL REASONS. 3 wandered much more than it would have done if you had known that, when he had finished, he would question you about what he was saying. You will remember that you often allowed your mind to dwell on interesting points that he raised, to the exclusion of what he said directly after. For these two reasons — (i) because you can not under- stand most of the assertions in Psychology without think- ing; and (2) because, even when you understand them, you can not tell without thinking whether or not they are true — I know of no subject better calculated to make a pupil think, and therefore better fitted to develop the power of thinking, than Psychology. Practical Reasons. — But apart from this, you wish to study Psychology for quite practical reasons. As a man who intends to be a surveyor studies trigonometry, not merely because it will develop his mind, but because of the use it will be to him, so you study Psychology because you think the knowledge of it will make you a better teacher. Nature of Teaching. — How will it help you in this direction ? Before you can answer this question, you must answer another. What is teaching ? People used to intimate what they thought of this by saying that a teacher "keeps school." But "keeping school" is not teaching. Nor is it to teach to hear recitations. To teach is to deal with mind — is to get it to do something which it would .not have done apart from the teacher, in order to get it to become something which it would not have become apart from him. In order to do this intelligently, you plainly need to 4 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. have as clear an idea as possible of what you wish your pupils to become. If your pupils were everything that you wish them to become, you would not undertake to teach them. What is it that you wish them to become ? In what respect do you wish them to change as the result of your teaching ? That question, the study of Psychology will help you to answer; and the more you know about Psychology, the more clearly and fully and definitely you can answer it. Meaning of Development. — Quite likely you think you can answer it now. You say you wish your pupils to have better developed minds at the end of each day than they had at the beginning. But better developed in what direction ? The North American Indians had remarkable powers of observation. They could track an enemy through a forest where you could see no trace of a human being. Will you be content to have your pupils acquire powers similar to those possessed by the North American Indians ? Is this what you wish them to become ? The Chinese have remarkable memories. Many educated Chinamen remember almost word for word the nine classics compiled and edited by Confucius. Do you want your pupils to have minds like the Chinese ? I do not, of course, mean to imply that you should not aim to cultivate the observing powers of your pupils as well as their memories. But the North American Indians developed their powers of observation at the expense of the higher powers of their minds^ and the Chinese their mechanical memory in the same costly way. And yet the Chinese aim at development. It is evident, there- fore, that when one says that the object of education NECESSITY OF «. DEFINITE AIM. 5 is development, he has not expressed a very definite idea. The question is, What kind of development? and that question Psychology will help us answer. Necessity of a Definite Aim. — So you see that when you say you want to help your pupils develop their minds, you have by no means proved that you know precisely what, as an intelligent teacher, you ought to aim at. And unless we know what to aim at, we can not hope to have success. Do you think an architect could build a beauti- ful house if he began to build it and worked at it from day to day without having in his mind, so to speak, the house he was trying to build ? Well, if a carpenter must have a picture in his mind of the kind of house he wishes to build in order to build it, how can we hope to succeed in moulding and forming the minds of our pupils in an intelligent way, unless we have the clearest ideas of what we wish them to become ? Need of a Criterion of Knowledge. — But at any rate, perhaps you think you are clear as to one thing in which you wish your pupils to change ; you wish them to become less ignorant — you wish them to know more. But to know more of what ? We have not got very far when we say that we wish to help our pupils to acquire knowledge, unless we have made up our minds as to what knowledge is worth acquiring. There is a good deal of history in the text-books which is not worth learning, and a good deal out of them which is in the highest degree important, and the same is true of the other subjects we teach. How are we to make up our minds what knowledge is worth acquir- ing ? The study of Psychology will help us do that. It 6 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. will help us see the effect which the acquiring of this or that piece of knowledge will have on the mind, and in this way enable us to estimate its worth. Here again it is evident that it is quite impossible to succeed in teaching unless in some way we are able to decide intelligently what we ought to get our pupils to learn. Until we are able to decide that, we can, in the first place, aim only to get them to learn everything in the text-book. This is bad for two reasons : in the first place, text-books are sometimes written by men who know so little of the subject that they can not tell what is important and what is not important ; and in the second place, intel- ligent men put many things in text-books, not that students may learn them, but that they may be able to refer to them if they have occasion to use them. No one but a fool would commit to memory a railroad guide. And yet railroad guides are very useful; but when any one has occasion for them, he goes to them. He remembers what he finds there just as long as he wants it, and then does not trouble his head with it any longer. Now, intelligent men put many such facts in the books they write — facts which they do not expect any one to learn, but to which they think persons may sometimes have occasion to refer. For these two reasons, it is very unfortunate for a teacher to have to rely entirely upon his text-books in deciding what to teach. The study of Psychology, then, will help us see what we ought to aim at. It will help us see the kind of develop- ment we ought to try to help- them get, and the kind of knowledge we ought to try to impart. QUESTIONS. 7 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What are the two reasons for studying Psychology? 2. How is any power of the mind developed? 3. What are the two reasons which make the study of Psychology so useful in developing the power to think? 4. What is teaching? 5. Give two illustrations to show that when you say you wish your pupils to have better developed minds, your statement lacks clearness. 6. Show that you can not succeed as a teacher unless you know what to aim at. 7. Show that when you say you wish to make your pupils less ignorant, your statement lacks clearness. 8. How will the study of Psychology help you in this direction ? 9. Why should not a teacher limit himself to teaching what is in the text-books ? 10. What is the central thought which this lesson aims to bring out? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Which do you regard as the more important service rendered by the study of Psychology to the teacher — increasing his power to think, or expanding his knowledge of the conditions under which the mind acts ? 2. One writer speaks of a certain kind of memory as the "index" memory, and another of another kind as the " mechanical " memory. Can you get from this lesson any idea of what they are ? 3. Do you believe that it is possible to train the powers 1 of obser- ration in general, i.e., to train them in such a way that their pos- tessor will be a good observer of any kind of facts? LESSON II. THE BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER. {Continued.) Conditions of Success. — To succeed well in any diffi- cult undertaking, three things are necessary: (i) one must see clearly the thing to be done ; (2) he must have a clear idea of the best means of doing it ; and (3) he must have a strong motive for doing it well. He in whom these conditions meet most perfectly — who sees most clearly the thing to be done, who has the clearest percep- tion of the best means of doing it, who has the strongest motive for making strenuous efforts to do it — is the per- son most likely to succeed in any difficult undertaking. The study of Psychology can not be urged on the ground that it is likely to do much toward making the teacher interested in his work, and more willing, therefore, to work hard in order to do it well. It is not, indeed, without effect in this direction. The work of teachers who make no study of mind is likely to be mechanical, while the work of teachers who base their efforts on a knowledge of mind is rational. And mechanical work is uninteresting, unattractive — fit only for machines. Any- thing, therefore, which tends to make a teacher's work rational certainly tends to make it interesting. This was what Fitch meant when he called teaching the noblest of arts and the sorriest of trades. Practiced mechanically, 8 PSYCHOLOGY AND TEACHING. 9 it is indeed a trade, and a sorry one at that; practiced rationally — practiced by one who realizes that he is deal- ing with mind, and who uses this method or that, not because some one else has used it, but because his knowl- edge of mind leads him to believe that a given method is the best — teaching is the noblest of arts. Psychology and Teaching. — But while the study of Psychology is of some benefit to the teacher in that it tends to give him more interest in his work, I do not urge it on this ground. It is for the other two reasons, (1) be- cause of the clearness which it is fitted to give to the aim of the intelligent teacher, and (2) because of the light it throws on the best methods of realizing that aim, that I believe no teacher who is ambitious to succeed should neglect to study those phases of Psychology that bear on education. In the last lesson I tried to show what the study of Psychology can do for us in the first direction. I tried to show that when we are able to say that our aim is to bring about the development of our pupils, we have not got very far unless we have made up our minds as to the value, so to speak, of the various faculties of the mind — that unless we know the worth of the observing powers, and of the various kinds of memory, imagination, and reasoning, we can not proceed intelligently in training them. In like manner, unless we have made up our minds as to " what knowledge is of most worth," I tried to show that it is of little use to be able to say that we wish to induce our pupils to acquire knowledge. I tried further to show that Psychology, by helping us discover the relation of the various powers of the mind to each other, will help us determine the kind of development we ought to aim at; IO BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. and also, that by helping us see the effect of the various kinds of knowledge upon the mind, it will help us decide "what knowledge is of most worth." But not only will the study of Psychology tend to give clearness and definiteness to our aim, it will tend quite as strongly to show what we must do to realize that aim. Methods Used in Dealing with Objects in the Mate- rial World. — In dealing with mind we must use the same kinds of methods which we use when we deal with objects in the material world. What we accomplish in the mate- rial world we accomplish by putting objects where they will be subject to new influences, so that the forces of nature may do the work we wish to have done. Mortar in one place and bricks in another do nothing to make the walls of a house, but place the bricks on a strong founda- tion, and put the mortar between them, and you have a strong wall. All you have done, you will note, is to move the bricks and mortar so as to put them in new positions and make them subject to new influences, so that the forces of nature may do the desired work. Heat water to the boiling-point, and it will change into steam ; and if you leave it where it can escape, nothing will come of it. But move the water into a confined place, so that the steam can not escape, and then you can make it drive immense palaces across the sea, or pull huge trains across the continent. Every invention which has ever been made is simply a way of moving things into new positions where they are subject to new influences, so that the forces of nature may do the desired work. All the force that is employed in nature exists in nature. All that man accomplishes he accomplishes by making the forces of METHODS IN DEALING WITH THE MIND. II nature work under different circumstances, and by turn- ing them into different channels from those in which they would have worked apart from him. It is by making nature our servant that we have made such wonderful progress in material civilization in the nineteenth century. How is it that we have been able to make nature work for us in such wonderful ways ? Simply by knowing the laws of nature. Knowing the laws of nature, we have been able, so to speak, to foresee what she would do under cer- tain circumstances, and the result is the steam-engine, the telegraph, the telephone, the phonograph, and all the other inventions which minister to our well-being. Methods to be Used in Dealing with the Mind. — In dealing with mind we must work in the same way. As everything which happens in nature is due to the laws of nature, so everything which happens in mind is due to the laws of mind. As our power in nature depends upon the skill with which we get her to work for us, so our power in dealing with mind depends upon our ability to get it so to act that the results we desire will follow. As success in dealing with nature consists in supplying the conditions which make it possible for nature to do the desired work, so success in dealing with the mind consists in supplying the conditions which make it possible for the mind to do the work we want it to do. And as the better we know the laws of nature (in other words, the better we know the con- ditions under which nature will produce this or that result) the better we can supply those conditions ; so the better we know the laws of the mind (in other words, the better we know the conditions under which the mind will do this or that, the better we can supply these conditions. The 12 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. aim of the teacher being a certain kind of development, and the communication of a certain kind of knowledge, evidently the more he knows of the conditions under which the mind develops, and the conditions under which it acquires knowledge, the better he can supply them. Difference in this Respect between Natural Agent and the Mind. — " But is there no difference," you may ask, "between a natural agent and the human mind in this regard ? May we say of the human mind, as we may of a natural agent, that it will always do all the work it can under the given condition ? " There is an important difference, but it makes for rather than against the skillful teacher. A natural agent can not be flattered, bribed, or cajoled ; it takes no account of intentions or motives. In dealing with a natural agent, the one single, simple, all- determining question is, Are the conditions fulfilled ? If they are fulfilled, the effect will follow ; if they are not fulfilled, the effect will not follow. But the case is dif- ferent with the human mind. When we have put the mind under the right influences, it has a natural tendency to the kind of activity we wish to occasion ; but this ten- dency may be increased or diminished by purely personal relations. A teacher who adapts the subject of instruction to the mental condition of his pupil creates a tendency in the mind of his pupil to follow his instruction with interest. But if by impatience, ill-humor, or sarcastic remarks the teacher has excited the antagonism of the pupil, the pupil resists the tendency ; he is unwilling to do what he knows his teacher desires. If, on the other hand, the teacher by patience and industry and kindness has gained the regard of his pupil, the pupil exerts himself to attend to the sub- WHY PUPILS DO NOT LEARN. 1 3 ject. In this way it happens that personal qualities may atone, to some extent, for lack of skill on the part of the teacher. Do you ask if a corresponding increase in the teacher's knowledge of mind, and a corresponding increase in his skill in basing his work on that knowledge would enable him to work such miracles in the minds of his pupils as inventors have worked in nature through their knowledge of the laws of nature ? I can not, of course, answer such a question. No one can. But in the School of the Far-off Future — when no teacher will be allowed to enter a school-room who has not made a thorough study of educa- tional Psychology, and who has not proved to the entire satisfaction of competent judges his ability to apply what he has learned — in that school there will be no dull, list- less, inattentive pupils. There will be no boys who leave school because they do not like it. There will be no pupils who hate books. Why Pupils do not Learn. — As a child learns not only rapidly but with intense pleasure from the time of his birth to the time he starts to school simply because the activities in which he spontaneously engages are fitted to his state of development, so he will continue to learn rapidly and with intense pleasure after he starts to school if the work he is set to doing is adapted to his state of development. Answer of Comenius. — Do you know who Comenius was ? It was he who said that if our pupils do not learn it is our fault. And he was undoubtedly right. If we supplied the proper conditions, our pupils would as certainly learn 14 BENEFITS OF PSYCHOLOGY. as a train will move when the engineer turns on the steam. Answer of Pestalozzi. — Do you know who Pestalozzi was ? It was he who said that if pupils are inattentive the teacher should first look to himself for the reason. He also was undoubtedly right. As certainly as a blade of corn will grow and mature if it is treated right — if the proper conditions are supplied — so certainly will our pupils attend, and think as the result of attending, and develop as the result of thinking, if we supply the proper conditions. Can Conditions of Learning Always be Supplied ? — " If we supply the proper conditions." It is but truth to say that that sometimes is beyond our power under the circumstances in which we are obliged to work. Some pupils have so little capacity for a subject that to supply the proper conditions would require an amount of atten- tion which the teacher can not possibly give them. It is doubtful also if there are not cases in which there is so little capacity for a subject as to make it a waste of time for the pupil to attempt to study it. A case came under my own observation of a boy who would spend five hours on a spelling lesson, and still miss nine words out of ten. I am strongly inclined to the opinion that spelling was an accomplishment which he could not afford to acquire. (See Appendix A.) QUESTIONS. 15 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What three things are essential to success in a difficult under- taking ? 2. What can the study of Psychology do to make a teacher inter- ested in his work ? 3. What did Fitch say about teaching, and what did he mean by it? 4. How will the study of Psychology help a teacher to see at what he should aim ? 5. How do men accomplish anything in nature ? 6. Illustrate your statement. 7. Show that the same thing is true in our dealings with mind. 8. Do you believe that teachers could accomplish as wonderful results in dealing with the minds of their pupils as inventors have accomplished in dealing with nature, if they knew as much about mind? 9. Why do so many pupils dislike the work of school ? 10. What did Comenius say is the reason our pupils do not learn? 11. Is there anything in our system of classification which increases the difficulty of adapting our work to individual pupils so as to make it pleasant to them ? 1 2. What can be done to obviate this ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Who is Fitch ? 2. What book on education has he written ? 3. Who was Comenius? When did he live? 4. Who was Pestalozzi, and when was he born ? 5. What reform did he work in education? LESSON III. BODY AND MIND. Connection between Body and Mind. — We all know that there is an intimate connection between body and mind. We know that when our eyes are open we see, and when they are closed, we do not see ; that when our hands, or other parts of the body, are in contact with an object we have a sensation of touch, and when they are not, we do not. We know that when we deprive our bodies of proper nourishment, as in fasting, we have a headache, and the longer we fast, the more incapable we become of any kind of mental exertion. We know that any derange- ,ment of the bodily functions produces an immediate effect upon the mind. We know that tea and coffee stimulate, and that alcoholic liquors intoxicate. Many a student has brought upon himself a feeling of bodily exhaustion through purely mental labor ; or, by a long tramp or some other form of prolonged physical exertion, he has produced a feeling of mental exhaustion. In other words, prolonged mental labor not only fatigues the mind but the body; prolonged physical labor rxot only fatigues the body but the mind. Those are a few of the familiar facts which have made it impossible for pny one to doubt that there is a very close relation between the body and the mind. 16 THE BRAIN AND THE MIND. 1J Opinion of the Greeks as to the Connection of the Brain and the Mind. — But it is by no means so evident that the brain is the part of the body which is in some sort of direct relation with the mind, and that the rest of the body influences the mind only through its relation to the brain. We shall realize this if we remember that though the Greek physician Alcmseon regarded the brain as the common meeting-place of the senses, and this opinion was accepted by Plato, yet Aristotle, himself the son of a doctor, and one of. the greatest of the Greek philosophers, rejected it. He said that the brain was a lump of cold substance, useful as the source of the fluid which lubricates the eyes, but quite unfit to be the organ of mind. What is the evidence which has led physiologists to conclude that he was mistaken ? Effect on Consciousness of a Blow on the Head. — It is a matter of direct experience that the connection between consciousness and the brain is closer than that between consciousness and any other part of the body. A blow on the head may deprive us of consciousness ; a blow on any other part of the body, as a rule, only inflicts pain. It is indeed true that a blow on the heart may cause uncon- sciousness. But that is because the blow may prevent the heart from sending to the brain its proper supply of blood. The Nerves Compared with Telegraph Wires. — More- over, the pain that we feel from a blow on any other part of the body depends upon the brain. Cut the nerve that connects one of the fingers with the brain, and an injury inflicted upon it makes no impression on consciousness. 1 8 BODY AND MIND. The relation between the body and the brain may be roughly compared to the relation between a telegraph wire and the receiving office. The telegraph wire is important because it is the medium through which the messages are transmitted to the receiving office. But it is the machinery at the receiving office which makes the receipt of messages possible. And precisely as no message can be received if the telegraph wire is cut or injured, so no effect is pro- duced upon the brain, and therefore none on conscious- ness, if the nerves connecting an injured part of the body with the brain are injured. There is a rough resemblance between the relation of consciousness to the brain, and that of the ringing of a bell to the striking of its sides by its clapper. Cause the bell by any means to swing to and fro so that the clapper strikes its sides, and you cause it to ring. Affect the brain in any way, either by a blow on the head, or by increasing or decreasing the quantity of blood that supplies it, or by changing its quality, and you affect consciousness. Pulling the bell-rope only causes the bell to ring because it causes the clapper to strike the sides of the bell. When we see how closely pain follows upon an injury inflicted on any part of the body, we might suppose that the bodily injury is the direct cause of the consciousness of pain. But when we remember that the bodily injury affects consciousness only as the effect of the injury is communicated to the brain, we see that it is the effect upon the brain that influences consciousness. The Supply of Blood to the Brain. — This conclusion, which facts familiar to all of us render highly probable, may be regarded as demonstrated by the conclusions of MOSSO S TABLE. 1 9 science. While the weight of the entire brain is only about one forty-second of the weight of the body, it has been calculated that the supply of blood used by the brain is one eighth of that used by the whole body. How essen- tial this supply of blood is, becomes evident if it is in any way interfered with. Stop one of the great arteries lead- ing to the brain by compression in the neck or in any other way, and great disturbances in consciousness at once appear, even to the point of its entire cessation. One investigator, Dr., Lombard, found that the temperature of the head varies rapidly, though slightly, during waking hours. By careful measurements with delicate thermo- electric apparatus he found that " every cause that attracts the attention — a noise, or the sight of some person or other object — produces elevation of temperature. An elevation of temperature also occurs under the influence of an emotion, or during an interesting reading aloud." 1 Mosso's Table. — If it were possible to doubt that this rise in temperature is due to an increase in the blood supplied to the brain, that possibility would seem to be removed by the experiments of an Italian investigator named Mosso. He devised a table so accurately balanced that a man might recline on it without disturbing its balance. He found that its balance was at once destroyed by any cause that quickened the activity of the subject's consciousness. A sudden noise, an interesting thought, anything that increased the activity of consciousness, would cause the head end of the table to sink down as quickly as if a weight had been placed upon it. 1 Quoted by Ladd, Physiological Psychology, p. 242. 20 BODY AND MIND. Localization of Cerebral Functions. — All the argu- ments in support of what is called the localization of cerebral functions are so many arguments to show that the brain is the organ of the mind. These arguments we will con- sider in a later chapter. Suffice it here to say that it has been proved to the satisfaction of physiologists and psy- chologists, not only that the brain is the organ of mind, but that particular parts of the brain are connected in a pecu- liarly close and intimate way with certain mental activities. Evidently every argument in support of this conclusion is equally good to show that the brain is the organ of the mind. A large number of experiments made upon the lower animals prove the same fact. First one part and then another of the brain of various lower animals (frogs and pigeons, for example) has been removed for the purpose of ascertaining what part of the brain is connected with par- ticular classes of mental operations. And though the phenomena vary with the animal, and with the part of the brain removed, to say nothing of the skill of the operator, the facts taken together leave no doubt of the special con- nection between the brain and the mind. The American Crow-bar Case. — For obvious reasons such experiments have not been performed upon the brains of men, but disease and accident have performed them for us. One of the most famous of these experiments is that which is now known as the American crow-bar case. While a young man named Gage was " tamping a blasting charge in a rock with a pointed iron bar, 3 feet 7 inches in length, i| inches in diameter, and weighing 13^ lbs., the charge suddenly exploded. The iron bar, propelled with its pointed end first, entered at the left angle of the AMERICAN CROW-BAR CASE. 21 patient's jaw, and passed clean through the top of his head, near the sagittal suture in the frontal region, and was picked up at some distance covered with blood and brains. The patient was for a moment stunned, but, within an hour after the accident, he was able to walk up a long flight of stairs and give the surgeon an intelligible account of the injury he had sustained. His life naturally was for a long time despaired of ; but he ultimately recovered, and lived twelve and a half years afterwards. . . . The whole track of the bar is included in that region of the brain which I have described as the prefrontal region. . . . Hear what Dr. Harlow (in a paper read in 1 868 before the Massachusetts Medical Society) says as to his mental con- dition : ' His contractors, who regarded him as the most efficient and capable foreman in their employ previous to his injury, considered the change in his mind so marked that they could not give him his place again. The equi- librium or balance, so to speak, between his intellectual faculties and animal propensities seems to have been de- stroyed. He is fitful, irreverent, indulging at times in the grossest profanity (which was not previously his custom), manifesting but little deference to his fellows, impatient of restraint or advice when it conflicts with his desires, at times pertinaciously obstinate, yet capricious and vacillat- ing, devising many plans of future operation, which are no sooner arranged than they are abandoned in turn for others more feasible. A child in his intellectual capacity and manifestations, he has the animal passions of a strong man. Previously to his injury, though untrained in the schools, he possessed a well-balanced mind, and was looked upon by the people who knew him as a shrewd, smart business man, very energetic and persistent in executing all his 22 BODY AND MIND. plans of operation. In this regard, his mind was radically changed, so decidedly, that his friends and acquaintances said he was no longer Gage.' " 1 Impairment of Memory Due to Injury of the Brain.— It is a matter of common knowledge that injuries to the brain often result in an impairment of memory. Forbes Winslow notes a remarkable case of a soldier upon whom the operation of trephining had been performed and who lost a portion of his brain. The result was that he forgot the numbers five and seven, and those only. After a time his memory of these numbers was restored. Numerous cases are on record of the impairment of memory in con- sequence of a violent blow on the head. Aphasia. — Very significant as to the dependence of mind on brain are the phenomena designated by the general term aphasia. Dr. Bateman says the term is used "to designate that condition in which the intelligence is unaffected, or at all events but slightly impaired; when thoughts are conceived by the patient but he can not express himself, either because he has lost the memory of words, or because he has lost the memory of the mechan- ical process necessary for the pronunciation of these words; or because the rupture of the means of communication between the gray matter of the brain and the organs, whose co-operation is necessary to produce speech, does not allow the will to act upon them in a normal manner as the ideas are formed, but the means of communi'cation with the external world do not exist." 2 1 Quoted by Calderwood in Tke Relations of Mind and Brain, pp. 479- 481, from Ferrier's Localization of Cerebral Disease. 2 Quoted by Calderwood, p. 388. MOTOR APHASIA. 23 Motor Aphasia. — The foregoing definition, as we shall see in a later chapter, covers phenomena widely different from each other. A man who can understand what is said to him, but who can not talk, is said to suffer from motor aphasia. He knows what he wants to say, but he has lost control of the mechanism of speech. Sufferers from another kind of aphasia have perfect control of the mechan- ism of speech. They can talk, but they can not under stand what is said to them. They can hear, but they can not grasp the meaning of what is said to them. Now in cases of motor aphasia it has been proved that the cause of the difficulty is located in a definitely ascer- tained part of the brain. Says Professor James : " When- ever a patient dies in such a condition as this and an examination of his brain is permitted, it is found that the lowest frontal gyrus is the seat of injury." Correspondence between Size and Weight of Brain, and Intelligence. — Still another class of facts may be pointed out as indicating the closeness of the relation between the mind and the brain. Comparative anatomy shows that there is a general, though indefinite, corre- spondence of the place of an animal in the scale of intel ligence, to the size and weight of its brain compared with the bulk of its entire body. In other words, as a rule, the larger and heavier the brain of an animal in comparison with the weight of its entire body, the higher it is in the scale of intelligence. As Professor Ladd says, " The law itself is confessedly subject to remarkable and unexplained exceptions ; at best it only holds good in' ( a general way. For example, the relativ* weight of the brain is not greatly different in the dolphin, in the baboon, and in 24 BODY AND MIND. man." Nevertheless, it may fairly be regarded as adding to the evidence which has convinced physiologists and psychologists that the brain is the organ of the mind. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Mention some of the facts that prove the dependence of the mind upon the body. 2. Show how essential to consciousness is a plentiful supply of blood to the brain. t 3. What is meant by aphasia ? 4. State the details of the American crow-bar case. 5. What is the relation between the size and weight of the brain of an animal, and its position in the scale of intelligence ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. What is meant by the localization of functions ? 2. Have any cases of impairment of memory from injury to the brain come under your observation ? LESSON IV. THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. In the preceding chapter we have considered the evi- dence which seems to prove that the brain is the organ of the mind. Let us in this chapter endeavor to get an idea of that wonderful mechanism of which the brain consti- tutes the most conspicuous part. Let us try to get an idea of the central nervous system. We learned in the last lesson that there is a direct con- nection between the outside of the body and the brain. If your hand comes in contact with a hot stove, you quickly become aware of it through sensations of touch and of pain. There is an equally direct connection between the brain and the muscles that move the hand. As soon as you become conscious of the sensation of pain you snatch your hand away. Nerves and Tendons. — If you dissect the body of one of the higher animals, you will see some of the machinery by means of which such phenomena are brought about. You will see numerous white cords which look like tendons — those dense white cords in which a muscle terminates, and which attach the muscles to the bones of the body. But that these white cords are not muscles, is shown by the fact that many of them are not connected with muscles 25 26 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. at all, and those which are, usually enter the central part of the muscle, instead of being attached to its end as ten- dons usually are. These cords are nerves. If you follow them in one direction, they subdivide into smaller and smaller branches until they become too small to be seen without the aid of the microscope. If you fol- low them in the opposite direction, they become larger and larger through uniting with similar nerves until they enter a much larger mass, whose structure and appearance differ widely from that of the nerves which enter it. This mass is called a nerve centre. Nerve Fibres and Nerve Cells. — Nerves are composed of one or more nervous elements called nerve fibres, bound together by connective tissue. The chief constituent of a nerve centre is nerve cells. Nerve fibres and nerve cells differ in density, shape and chemical composition. Fibrous nerve matter contains more water than cellular nerve mat- ter, and is therefore less dense than the latter. They differ in their shape. Fibres are long "thread-like connec- tions," while nerve cells have a great variety of forms. " Some are nearly round ; others ovoidal, caudate, stellate, or shaped like a flask or the blade of a paddle." Nerve fibres and nerve cells differ in size. Nerve fibres vary from about xhns t0 ttW °f an hich in diameter, while nerve cells vary from about ^ to ^nr of an inch. It is supposed that there are not less than two and a half mil- lions of sensory nerve fibres alone, while man's entire central nervous system is reckoned to have about three thousand million nerve cells. Nerve fibres are never found apart from nerve cells. Indeed, recent investigation has shown that the fibre is an NERVE FIBRES AND NERVE CELLS. 2"] outgrowth or prolongation of the cell. 1 A nerve cell with its prolongation into a nerve fibre constitutes the unit of the nervous system. The essential element of a nerve fibre is called its axis-cylinder. Near the ending of a nerve fibre it is the only constituent of the fibre that is Fig. i. — Isolated body of a large cell from the ventral horn of the spinal cord. Human, X 200 diameters. A, fibre or fibrous element ; D, dendrons ; N, nucleus with enclosures ; P, pigment spot. (Modified from Donaldson.) left ; the other elements — the transparent envelope, called the primitive sheath, and the fatty substance, called the medullary sheath, which the primitive sheath encloses and which usually encloses the axis-cylinder — being wanting. 1 The term neuron is applied to the cell with all of its prolongations, of which the fibre is only one. The other prolongations of a cell are called dendrons. 28 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. Two Functions of the Nervous System. — We may regard the nervous system as a mechanism having two great functions to perform : (i) reporting the condition of the outside world to the individual, and enabling him to control his actions accordingly ; and (2) binding the various parts of the body into an interdependent whole. The first function we are too familiar with to make extended illustration necessary. A person suffering from rheumatism, feeling a draught of cold air, gets up and Fig. 2. — Longitudinal and transverse (A) sections of nerve fibres. The heavy border represents the medullary sheath, which becomes thicker in the larger fibres. Sciatic nerve. Human, X 4°o diameters. (Donaldson.) closes the window. His nerves report the condition of the outside world ; his nerves set in motion the machinery — the proper muscles — by means of which he closes the window. The one action may be compared with the tele- phoning to the fire department of a city that a building in a certain part of it is on fire ; the other to the sending of engines to extinguish the fire. The same illustration may be used to illustrate the second function of the nervous system, the binding to- gether of the various parts of the body into one inter- FUNCTIONS OF FIBRES AND CELLS. 29 dependent whole. When a draught of cold air strikes the body, apart from the voluntary motion which it may occa- sion, its effects may be felt throughout the entire body. The heart and lungs may modify their activity ; some of the involuntary muscles may contract ; and a shudder may run through the entire physical organism. 1 Martin well says that in common life "the very fre- quency of this uniting activity of the nervous system is such that we are apt to entirely overlook it. We do not wonder how the sight of pleasant food will make the mouth water and the hand reach out for it ; it seems, as we say, 'natural,' and to need no explanation. But the eye itself can excite no desire, cause the secretion of no saliva, and the movement of no limb. The whole complex result depends on the fact that the eye is united by the optic nerve with the brain, and that again by other nerves with saliva-forming cells, and with muscular fibres of the arm ; and through these a change excited by light falling into the eye is enabled to produce changes in far-removed organs, and excite desire, sensation, and movement." 2 Functions of Fibres and Cells. — This general survey of the functions of the nervous system enables us to antici- pate in an indefinite way the work to be done by the two elements of the nervous system. The fibres, or nerves composed of fibres, will have as their function to transmit stimulations from the surface or outer part of the body to the nerve .centres, and to transmit impulses from those centres to the muscles. The cells, or centres composed of cells, will have as their function to receive the stimula- 1 Cf. Ladd, Physiological Psychology, p. 19. 2 Martin's Physiology, p. 208. 30 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. tions transmitted by the nerves, ' and to send impulses along the nerves to the muscles. Afferent and Efferent Nerves. — The nerves, accord- ingly, may be divided into two classes : the first class connect some sensitive structure as the skin, the retina, the nervous membrane of the stomach, at their peripheral termination, with the centre ; the second connect the cen- tre with the muscles to which they are attached at their peripheral termination. The first class are excited to activity by some structure at their peripheral termination, and transmit nervous action to the centre. They are, therefore, called afferent, in-carrying, or centripetal nerves. The second class are excited to activity by the nerve centres with which they are connected, and transmit nervous excitation to the mus- cles with which they are connected at their peripheral extremity. They are, therefore, called efferent, out-carry- ing, centrifugal, or motor nerves. The most important of the afferent nerves for Psychology are those which are called sensory nerves, because they connect the sense organs — eyes, ears and so on — with the nerve centres. The most important of the motor nerves for Psychology are those which connect the nerve centres with the "voluntary" muscles — those of the hands, arms, legs, eyes, for example. Nature of the Sense Organs. — The greater part of the sense organs consist largely of mechanical contriv- ances whose function is to modify the external stimulus, and convey the impulse imparted by it to the nerves of sense. NATURE OF THE SENSE ORGANS. 3 1 For example, the nose consists in large part of a mechanism for bringing the particles of odorous sub- stances in contact with that part of the mucous mem- brane of the nose in which the olfactory nerve terminates. In order that an object may be smelled, it is not enough that an odorous substance be held near the nose. A current of air containing particles of the odorous sub- stance must be drawn through the nose, and thus brought into contact with the terminal fibres of the olfactory nerve. In like manner the ear consists for the most part of a mechanism whose function is to modify the waves of sound, and transmit them so modified to the internal ear, in which the fibres of the auditory nerve terminate. When the vibrations of air reach the tympanum, they have too large an amplitude, and too little intensity, to occasion these vibrations in the elements of the internal ear, which are essential to the excitation of the auditory nerve. The tympanum modifies these vibrations so as to adapt them to the excitation of the terminal fibres of the auditory nerve, and at the same time transmits them to the internal ear. So likewise, the eye consists in part of an optical instru- ment, in part of a sensitive nervous membrane called the retina, on which the image resulting from the optical instrument is formed. The eye, as an optical instrument, transmits the stimulations received from light to the nervous elements in the retina in which the optic nerve terminates. The nerve centres with which Psychology is especially interested are those which are found in the encephalon, or contents of the skull, and the spinal cord. 32 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. Gray and White Matter. — These centres consist of masses of gray and white matter. The white matter con- sists chiefly of nerve fibres; the gray matter, of nerve cells. These cells, as we have seen, have prolongations or out- growths called fibres, of which the axis-cylinder is the most essential element. After the axis-cylinder leaves the cell, it divides into two or more parts. Some of these parts enter the white mass, composed chiefly of nerve fibres, and become part of these fibres. Some pass through this white mass and unite with the parts into which the axis-cylinders, extending from other cells, are divided. Gray Matter of the Brain. — The gray matter of the brain is not found in a single compact mass. The cere- brum, located in the upper and front part of the brain, has a covering of gray matter, "like a thin rind," called the cerebral cortex, from ^ to •§■ of an inch in thickness. Within the cerebrum, and separated from the gray matter of the cortex by a mass of white matter, are found the large ganglia — masses of gray matter — which are called the optic thalami. Behind these are the corpora quadri- gemina, and behind these, and forming a part of the out- side surface of the brain, is- the cerebellum. These, with the gray masses of the spinal cord, and the medulla ob- longata, the body in which the spinal cord terminates, are the gray masses of the nervous system in which Psychology is especially interested. Spinal Cord. — The spinal cord and the brain are con- tinuous. There is no point where we can say that the one stops and the other begins. Physiologists have, however, agreed to regard the cord as .commencing opposite the SPINAL CORD. 33 outer margin of the foramen magnum of the occipital bone. Its average diameter is about | of an inch ; its length, 17 inches; and its weight, 1^ ounces. It is nearly divided into right and left halves by two fissures, one on the ventral, and the other directly opposite, Fig. 3. — The spinal cord and nerve-roots. A, a small portion of the cord seen from the ventral side ; B, the same seen laterally ; C, a cross-section of the cord ; Z>, the two roots of a spinal nerve j 1, anterior (ventral) fissure ; 2, posterior (dorsal) fissure; 3, surface groove along the line of attachment of the anterior nerve- roots ; 4, line of origin of the posterior roots ; 5, anterior root filaments of spinal nerve ; 6, posterior root filaments ; 6', ganglion of the posterior root ; 7, 7', the first two divisions of the nerve-trunk after the union of the two roots. (Martin.) on the dorsal side. If we examine a transverse section of the cord, we shall find that it is composed of white and gray matter, and that its white matter surrounds its gray matter, which is arranged "somewhat in the form of a capital H," the horizontal bar representing the gray matter which connects the gray matter in the right and 34 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. left halves of the cord, and the two vertical bars represent- ing the gray matter on the right and left of the fissure. The white matter consists of fibres, some traversing it in a horizontal and others in a vertical direction, and a connecting substance called neuroglia. The gray matter consists of ganglion cells and a homogeneous gray m?ss in Fig. 4. — Diagram illustrating the general relationships of the parts of the brain. A, fore-brain ; b, mid-brain; B, cerebellum; C, pons Varolii ; D, medulla oblon- gata; B, C, and D together constitute the hind-brain. (Martin.) which a majority of recent observers find a net-work of fine axis-cylinders running in all directions. Thirty-one pairs of nerves enter the spinal cord. Each of these nerves, before entering the cord, divides into a dorsal and ventral part which are called respectively the posterior and the anterior roots of the nerve. The posterior root consists of afferent or sensory fibres, the anterior root of efferent or motor fibres. FOLDS OF THE CORTEX. 35 The brain is much larger than the spinal cord, and much more complex in its structure. The whole brain in the adult male weighs on the average about 50 ounces. Figure 4 illustrates in a general way the position of the various parts of the brain. The fore-brain weighs in man on the average about 44 ounces. It consists chiefly of the cerebrum, which is divided into two parts known as the cerebral hemispheres by a deep fissure which extends through its middle. Folds of the Cortex. — The gray cortical rind which constitutes the surface of the cerebrum is folded upon itself many times as appears from Figure 5. These folds are called gyri or convolutions. Their effect is to greatly increase the surface of the brain. It is estimated that if the cortex of the brain of a person of average intelligence were unfolded it would be found to have an area of about four square feet. The folds of the human cortex are deeper and more numerous, as a rule, than those of the most intelligent animals, and in the brains of the most highly civilized nations than in those of savages. . For reasons which will be stated in a later chapter, the cortex of the cerebrum is the part of the brain which is supposed to be connected in the closest and most intimate way with intelligence. It is, therefore, important for stu- dents of Psychology to pay special attention to it. If we examine the convolutions of different brains, we shall see that they vary greatly in their details, not only in different individuals, but even in the two hemispheres of the same brain. The convolutions have been divided into primary, secondary and tertiary classes according to the strength and clearness and positiveness with which they 36 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. are distinguishable. The primary convolutions have been compared to the large mountain ranges whose height and breadth and direction give to an extensive territory its characteristic features; the secondary convolutions to those subordinate ranges which owe their existence to valleys in the mountain range, running in the same direction ; the tertiary convolutions to the small spurs that extend into Fig. 5. — The brain from the left side. Cb, the cerebral hemispheres forming the main bulk of the fore-brain; Cbl, the cerebellum; Mo, the medulla oblongata; P t the pons Varolii ; * the fissure of Sylvius. (Martin.) the valleys from the side of the ranges. The primary con- volutions are distributed in the brains of different individ- uals and in the two lobes of the same cerebrum with a good deal of regularity. With them, all regularity stops. The depressions between the convolutions are called sulci. Corresponding to primary, secondary and tertiary convo- lutions are, accordingly, primary, secondary and tertiary sulci. CORTEX A SYSTEM OF ORGANS. 37 Cortex a System of Organs. — The cortex is a very complex organ — perhaps we ought to say, system of organs. For it is made up of a vast multitude of nervous elements with immovable fibres connecting them with each other and with other parts of the nervous system. We shall the more clearly realize the reasons for regarding — at least in a provisional way — the cortex as a system of organs, if we bear in mind what these connecting fibres are. They may be divided into four classes. Sensory Fibres and the Cortex. — The first class is composed of sensory fibres. They may be described in brief as the fibres which form the last connecting link between the surface of the body where the sensory impulse starts, and the centre. I say the last connecting link. For the nervous impulse "changes cars," so to speak, a number of times on its way from the surface of the body to the cortex. The first change is made when the sensory im- pulse reaches the cells in the posterior horns of the spinal cord. Sometimes — as in the case of reflex action, here- after to be described — the sensory impulse travels no farther. But generally it travels upward along fibres which run throughout the entire length of the spinal cord to the medulla oblongata, where these terminal fibres bend at right angles and pass into its gray matter. The sensory impulse is interrupted here — "changes cars" — but passes out of the medulla oblongata through a number of other gray masses, until it finally reaches the cortex. These fibres then, the fibres which form the last connecting link between the various parts of the surface and the centre, are the first of the four classes which terminate in the cortex. 38 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. Motor Fibres and the Cortex. — The second class of connecting fibres in the cortex are those that form the first connect- ing link between the cortex and the volun- tary muscles. These motor fibres, as we may term them, are the paths by which motor impulses travel from the cortex. The entire path from the cortex to the muscle has been divided into two parts — the central motor path and the peripheral motor path. The cen- tral motor path — in the case of the spinal motor nerve — consists of (i ) the fibres extend- ing from the cells in the cortex, and (2) the fibres extending up- wards from the motor cells of the anterior horns of the spinal cord. The peripheral motor path consists of the fibres connecting the muscle. The motor fibres Fig. 6. — Schema shewing the pithway of the sensory impulses. On the left side, S, S', represent afferent spinal nerve fibres ; C, an afferent cranial nerve fibre. This fibre in each case terminates near a central cell, the fibre of which crosses the middle line, and ends in the opposite hemisphere. (Modified from Donaldson.) same motor cell with the ASSOCIATION FIBRES. 39 of the cortex constitute the first part of the central motor path. Association Fibres. — The third class of connecting fibres are called association fibres. They connect one part of the cortex with another. Says Edinger : "They extend everywhere from convolution to convolution, connecting parts which lie near each other as well as those which are widely separated." They are called association fibres because it is supposed to be by means of them that we are able to associate one experience with another. Fig. % — Lateral view of a human hemisphere, showing the bundles of association fibres. (Starr.) A, A, between adjacent gyri ; B, between frontal and occipital areas ; C, between frontal and temporal areas, cingulum ; D, between frontal and temporal areas, fasciculus uncinatus ; E, between occipital and temporal areas fasciculus longitudinalis inferior; C. N., caudate nucleus; O.T., optic thalamus. (Donaldson.) Commissural Fibres. — The fourth class of connecting fibres are those which connect identical parts of the two hemispheres of the cerebrum with each other. They are called commissural. 40 THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. i. What is the difference between nerve cells and nerve fibres? 2. What is a neuron ? 3. What are the two functions of the nervous system ? 4. What are afferent nerves ? 5. Mention the parts of the brain in which Psychology is espe- cially interested. 6. Describe the four classes of fibres which connect one part of the cortex with another, and with the various parts of the body. LESSON V. THE FUNCTIONS, OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. Functions of the Fibres. — After this brief survey of the nervous system we are ready to consider its functions. It is evident that the office of the fibres is to conduct nervous excitations. When you snatch your hand away from a hot stove, the pain is not in the hand ; for, if the nerve which connects the hand with the spinal cord is divided, you will feel no pain. The burn has caused a change in the ends of the nerve that terminate in the injured part, and this change has been transmitted along the nerve to the spinal cord. The same kind of evidence shows that the motor nerves running from the spinal cord to the muscles have the same office. For, if the nerves extending to the muscles of your arm be divided, you can not snatch your hand away when you feel the sensation of pain. You will be like an animal shot by an arrow which has been dipped in the .poison called curari — a poison which renders the motor nerves incapable of action, while it does not affect the sensory nerves. You will feel the pain, but will be unable to move your hand. Nature of a Nervous Impulse. — As to the nature of the change which takes place during the passage of a nervous impulse, physiologists and psychologists are almost 4« 42 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. entirely ignorant. Says Professor Martin : " Since between sense organs and sensory centres, and these latter and the muscles, nervous impulses are the only means of communi- cation, it is through them that we arrive at our opinions concerning the external universe and through them that we are able to act upon it ; their ultimate nature is there- fore a matter of great interest, but one about which we unfortunately know very little." l Nerve centres also conduct nervous excitations, but this is not their most characteristic work. Perhaps the best way to realize what this is, is to contrast reflex with volun- tary actions, as many physiologists understand it. We all know what is meant by voluntary actions. They are actions which seem to be the result of our volitions. For certain conscious reasons, we will to act in a certain way, and the action follows. If, however, the act takes place as the result of the stimulation of an afferent nerve, without the intervention of consciousness, it is called reflex. Voluntary, Reflex and Semi-reflex Actions. — Pro- fessor James gives a clear illustration of the difference between voluntary and reflex actions and a kind of action intermediate between the two. " If I hear the conductor calling 'All aboard !' as I enter the depot," he says, "my heart first stops, then palpitates, and my legs respond to the air waves falling upon my tympanum by quickening their movements. Jf I stumble as I run, the sensation of falling provokes the movement of the hands towards the direction of the fall, the effect of which is to shield the body from too sudden a shock. If a cinder enter my eye, 1 Martin's Physiology, p. 203. MECHANICAL NATURE OF REFLEX ACTIONS. 43 its lids close forcibly, and a copious flow of tears tends to wash it out." l In this illustration we have examples of three different kinds of action. The quickening of the pace in con- sequence of the conductor's " All aboard ! " is an example of voluntary action. It is an action following upon a dis- tinct volition, or at least upon a definite state of conscious- ness. With the closure of the eye, on the other hand, and the flow of tears, consciousness had nothing to do. The nervous impulse caused by the cinder passed along an afferent nerve leading from the eye to a certain nerve centre, and that centre imparted an impulse to an efferent nerve connected with the muscles whose contraction results in the closure of the eye, and the result was the closure of the eye without the intervention of consciousness. Such actions are called reflex. The movement of the hands illustrates what is some- times called semi-reflex actions, and sometimes acquired reflexes. The last term is the better because it marks the two essential facts in the case : (1) The action so characterized is now performed without the intervention of consciousness. In that respect it is like reflex actions, so called. (2) Such actions were not originally so performed. They are therefore said to be acquired reflexes. Mechanical Nature of Reflex Actions. — That the actions described as reflex are mechanical, there can be no manner of doubt. Certain afferent and efferent nerves, with the nerve centres of which they are outgrowths or prolongations, with the muscles with which the efferent nerves are connected, are the mechanical contrivances for 1 James's Psychology, p. 12. 44 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. the performance of certain particular kinds of actions. Any correct definition you may make of a machine will apply equally well to the mechanism concerned in reflex action. Pull the trigger of a gun and it fires ; put a cinder in the eye and it closes. Strike a certain key of a piano and it produces a certain note. Stroke the flanks of a brainless frog and it croaks. I will not stop here to enlarge upon the fact that a large number of actions originally voluntary become acquired reflexes — which is only a way of saying that certain nerve centres can be educated to perform, without the aid of consciousness, actions of which they were quite incapable in the beginning. What I wish to emphasize is the fact that many eminent physiologists and not a few psycholo- gists believe that there is no real difference between reflex actions and voluntary actions, except in the degree of com- plexity of the mechanism by means of which they are brought about. The Automatic Theory. — Says the physiologist Foster: " The real difference between an automatic (reflex) action and a voluntary act is that the chain of physiological events between the act and its physiological cause is in the one case short and simple, in the other long and com- plex." In other words — according to this doctrine — as a segment of the spinal cord, with its afferent and effer- ent nerves, may be regarded as a comparatively simple machine, the cerebrum, with the nerves and the nerve centres connected with it, is likewise a machine, only very much more complex and intricate in its structure. As you can not help closing your eye when a cinder gets into it, your spinal cord being what it is, so you can not help read- THE AUTOMATIC THEORY. 45 ing this chapter, providing you are reading it, your cere- brum being what it is. As consciousness certainly has nothing to do with reflex actions — so the doctrine asserts • — it has nothing to do with so-called voluntary actions. If you could find a machine whose actions made no noise, it would illustrate the reflex machinery of our bodies in that such a machine acts without consciousness. The ordinary, more or less noisy machinery with which we are acquainted illustrates the nervous mechanism by which so-called vol- untary actions are performed. For, as the noise of the machine contributes nothing whatever to what the machine does, as it is the inert effect of its activity, so (accord- ing to the doctrine) consciousness — our feelings, hopes, fears, volitions — has nothing whatever to do with our actions. We get up, eat, walk, write, read, study, go on journeys, adapt a long series of actions to what seems an intelligent purpose, not because we are intelligent, con- scious beings, but because our bodies are supplied with a wonderful piece of mechanism — the cerebrum. Some crude diagrams may help to make the matter clear. L \ a/ \ Diagram i illustrates the mechanism of reflex action. The line AB represents the afferent nerve along which a nerv- ous impulse travels to the nerve centre BC, and CD the efferent nerve along which the nervous impulse is deflected by the nerve centre. This illustrates in a rough way the 46 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. mechanism of reflex action. A nervous impulse starts at one point A and is propagated to a nerve centre, where it is deflected and propagated in the opposite direction by a nerve centre. The action from start to finish is purely material. Consciousness has no more to do with it than it has with the falling of a house which is blown down by a tornado. Diagram 2 illustrates the mechanism of so-called volun- tary action — according to the doctrine. The line AB represents the path of a nervous impulse to a nerve centre as before. But instead of deflecting the nervous impulse in the opposite direction along the efferent nerve CD, the nerve centre transmits the impulse along the nerve BF to the cortex — the cortical cells deflect it in the opposite direction and propagate it along the nerve GC. Although consciousness accompanies such actions, it has nothing to do with causing them — according to the theory. A mate- rial change at A was the occasion of the nervous impulse, itself only a material change, which travels to B ; a mate- rial change at B was the occasion of a nervous impulse — material change — which travels to the cells of the cortex ; a material change in the cells of the cortex caused the nervous impulse — material change — along the nerves GC and CD. From start to finish the action is material, and material only. And although at a certain point in the path consciousness appears, this consciousness has no more to do with the action that follows than the whiz of a moving wheel has with its motion. Objections to the Theory. — I have not explained this theory for the purpose of criticising it. A theory that flies so rudely in the face of common sense does not need FUNCTION OF THE NERVE CENTRES. 47 criticism in the case of the great majority of students. Most of us, I am confident, will feel sure that it is rather the result of the limitations in the knowledge of the spe- cialists who hold it than the proved outcome of incontest- able reasoning. Most of us will feel that these specialists have their faces toward their laboratories, and their backs toward life, with its almost infinite wealth of intricate and complex adaptations of means to ends. If we could forget these adaptations, these manifestations of intelligence in ourselves and others which meet us on every hand, it would doubtless be easy to accept a theory which reduces the actions which our bodies perform to one ultimate type, a theory which banishes consciousness from the scene of causality as an unwelcome intruder and disturber of that perfect unity, the realization of which is the ideal of the scientific mind. But with a vivid appreciation of these manifestations of intelligence we shall not be disturbed by the speculations of these theorists, and the less so in view of the fact that some of the most eminent psychologists in the world — among them Professors Wundt, James and Ladd — in full view of all the evidence that seems to sup- port the theory, have rejected it. Function of the Nerve Centres. — I have called atten- tion to the theory because it seems to me to put in a clear light what is admitted by all parties to be the function of the nervous centres — what we shall call the co-ordination of nervous impulse, in such a way as to cause the outgoing impulses to produce an apparently purposive result. To exhibit the evidence in detail for this conclusion in such a book as this is impossible, but it may be said that the whole difference between the psychologists like Professors 48 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. James, Wimdt and Ladd, who reject the theory I have described — called the automaton theory — and those who hold it, is as to the extent to which this work of co-ordina- tion is performed by the nerve centres without the aid of consciousness. The former admit that some of the centres of the nervous system perform this work of co-ordination without the aid of consciousness ; they also admit that where consciousness intervenes, these nerve centres are the mechanism it employs. The automatists, on the other hand, maintain that this work of co-ordination is in all cases the unassisted work of the nerve centres. Mechanism Required in Reflex Actions. — The mech- anism required in reflex actions is clear, from what has been said of them. It consists (1) of a sensitive surface exterior or interior, (2) an afferent nerve, (3) a cell or nerve centre connecting the afferent nerve with the sensi- tive surface (4) of an efferent nerve connecting the nerve centre with (s) a muscle or muscles. 1 The afferent impulse starts in (1), passes along (2), reaches (3), is there changed into, an efferent impulse, which passes along (4), finally reaches (5), where it causes a contraction of a muscle or muscles. The essence of reflex action, then, consists in the change by means of the protoplasm of a nerve cell of an afferent into an efferent impulse. 2 Efferent Impulses. — An efferent impulse is not simply a deflection of an afferent impulse. A crumb of bread in 1 For the sake of simplicity, I omit from consideration those reflex actions in which the efferent nerve is not connected with muscles. 2 Foster's Physiology, p. 129. AUTOMATIC ACTIONS. 49 contact with the glottis may occasion a violent fit of cough- ing in which not only all the respiratory muscles, but nearly all the muscles of the body, are brought into action. The efferent impulse which stimulated the muscles whose contraction resulted in coughing is not in such a case a mere deflection of the afferent impulse. The afferent impulse was slight and feeble ; the efferent impulse was extensive and powerful, and was communicated to a large number of nerves. Evidently, the number and character of efferent impulses in any given case depend primarily not on the afferent impulse, but on the changes which take place in the nerve centres. Automatic Actions. — In addition to the functions of the nerve centres in reflex action, acquired reflexes and voluntary actions, some of them have functions which seem to be sharply contrasted with these. These are the auto- matic centres, " which are centres not directly excited by nerve fibres conveying impulses to them, but in other ways." For example, the movements in breathing do not depend upon consciousness. In that respect they are con- trasted with voluntary actions. But the nerve centres that propagate the nervous excitation to the muscles con- cerned in breathing are not themselves excited to activity by afferent fibres leading to them. They are stimulated directly by the blood that flows through them. Actions so resulting are, in this respect, contrasted with reflex actions. We have then four classes of actions: (i) automatic actions — in which the nerve centres concerned are not stimulated by afferent fibres ; (2) reflex actions — in which the centres are stimulated by afferent fibres, and to which 50 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. they respond with machine-like directness and regularity ; (3) acquired reflexes — in which the centres are also stim- ulated by afferent fibres, and in which they now respond with machine-like directness and regularity, but in which they did not have that power to begin with ; (4) voluntary actions — whose differentiating characteristic is that the centres concerned in their production seem to depend on the will. Centres of Automatic Action. — The medulla oblongata contains numerous centres of automatic action, among them the movements employed in breathing. If the brain is removed above the medulla, the breathing movements are hardly disturbed at all. But if the medulla is removed or injured, all breathing stops, even though the injury be confined entirely to the medulla, the muscles and nerves concerned in breathing being entirely uninjured. The Cerebellum. — The cerebellum is the organ for many acquired reflexes. We all know how easy it is to walk, and at the same time concentrate our entire atten- tion on a conversation. All that it seems necessary for the mind or consciousness to have to do with it is to set the machine well going, so to speak, when some part of the nervous mechanism relieves consciousness of all further work in the matter. We have forgotten how we learned to walk, but we all remember how necessary it was to give our entire attention to our movements when we were learn- ing to skate or ride a bicycle. But the experienced skater or cyclist can skate or ride with as little attention to what he is doing as we are obliged to give to walking. The difference between a man who can skate and one SUMMARY OF CONCLUSION. 5 1 who can not is that the one can and the other can not control his muscles in such a way as to produce the desired result. And the difference between the man who can only skate by giving his entire attention to it, and the one who can skate and think about something else, is that in the one case the mandate to the necessary muscles pro- ceeds from the cerebrum, the centre directly connected with consciousness ; in the other, from a centre not directly connected with consciousness. In other words, in the case of the person learning to skate, walk, ride a wheel, play on a musical instrument, the nervous impulse to the proper muscles proceeds directly from the cortex of the cerebrum. In the case of a person who has learned to walk, or the skillful skater or wheelman, all that the cortex of the cerebrum seems to do is to initiate the action, when the supervision and further direction of it is carried on by a lower centre. That centre seems to be the cere- bellum. The reason for this conclusion may be summarized as follows : When the cerebellum is injured, the most marked result seems to be a loss of the power to perform the acquired reflexes used in locomotion. Summary of Conclusion. — We may then sum up the results of this chapter as follows : The functions of the nervous system may be broadly divided into two classes — those of the fibres or nerves, and those of the cells or centres. The office of the fibres is to conduct excitations to and from the centres. The centres are concerned in four kinds of actions : automatic, reflex, acquired reflexes, and voluntary. The medulla oblongata is one of the cen- tres from which automatic actions proceed. The spinal cord is pre-eminently a centre of reflex actions. It is also 52 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. d. centre of many acquired reflexes. The cerebellum is the centre for the acquired reflexes used in locomotion. We will consider the functions of the cerebrum in the next lesson. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What is the function of nerve fibres ? 2. What is the nature of the change which takes place during the passage of a nervous impulse ? 3. What is the difference between reflex, semi-reflex, automatic, and voluntary actions ? 4. Explain the automaton theory. 5. What is the mechanism required in reflex actions? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Do you believe in the automaton theory? 2. Physiologists are much more inclined to accept the theory than psychologists ; what do you suppose is the reason for it ? 3. How do you account for the purposive character of reflex actions ? LESSON VI. THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. Cerebrum and Intelligence. — That the cerebrum is more closely related to intelligence than any other part of the nervous system, is proved by the same evidence that goes to show that the brain is the organ of the mind. Re-read the lesson on that subject and you will have before you the evidence that has convinced physiologists and psychologists that the cerebrum is in a special sense the organ of the mind. The blow on the head that deprives one of consciousness is a blow that affects the cerebrum. The nervous connection that must be main- tained in order that pain may be felt, is the connection between the injured part and the cerebrum. The injuries to the brain that result in the impairment of memory or aphasia are injuries of the cerebrum. Cortex and Intelligence. — But the cerebrum is a large organ. Is there any evidence to show that any par- ticular part or parts of it sustain this especially intimate relation to intelligence ? There is nearly a consensus of opinion among physiologists and psychologists to the effect that there is such a part, and that is the thin rind of gray matter called the cortex. The evidence for this ppinion may be stated under two 53 54 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. heads: (i) The higher an animal stands in the scale of intelligence, the deeper and more numerous, as a rule, are the fqlds or convolutions of the cortex. Remembering that these folds increase the surface of the cortex, we may say that, as a rule, the higher an animal stands in the scale of intelligence, the greater the extent of the surface of its cortex in proportion to its size. There are, indeed, a few exceptions to the rule. A few animals, not high in the scale of intelligence, have deeper and more extended folds than other animals standing above them in that scale. (2) The cerebral functions, so far as they have been located, have been located in the cortex. All the evidence, therefore, for the localization of those functions points to the same conclusion. What, then, is the nature of that evidence ? Meaning of "Localization of Functions." — Before attempting to answer this question, let us try to get a clear idea of what is meant by ""localization of mental func- tions." The question which the theory undertakes to answer may be stated as follows : Have different parts of the cerebrum the same work to do in relation to our men- tal life ? Do they sustain the same relation to the life of sensation, memory, and voluntary motion ? Those who say that they have, deny, and those who say that they have not, affirm, the localization of the cerebral functions. Presumptions in Favor of it. — The most general knowledge of the nervous system would lead one to expect some localization of the functions of the cerebrum. We have seen that there are sensory nerves and motor nerves — nerves that minister to sensation and nerves that min- THE DOCTRINE COMPARATIVELY NEW. 55 ister to motion. A further study of the nerves shows us that this division of labor is carried much farther. Some of the efferent nerves are motor and some are not ; some of the motor nerves are voluntary and some involuntary. Moreover, each motor nerve is connected with some par- ticular muscle, not with the muscles in general. And precisely as the motor nerves are each of them connected at their peripheral terminations with certain particular muscles, so they have their origin in different parts of the brain. It is difficult to believe that the nervous impulse that travels along them to the muscles does not have its origin in some definite cell or group of cells. In like man- ner the sensory nerves that connect the surface of the body with the cortex must connect that surface with a definite part of the cortex, provided they go to the cortex at all. The nerves that proceed from the end of my little finger and connect it with the cortex must terminate in some definite place ; they cannot terminate in the brain in general. The presumption, thus created, that different parts of the cerebrum will be found to have different offices to per- form in relation to our mental life, is strengthened by a consideration of the nerve centres. The gray matter of the spinal cord is a succession of centres for the perform- ance of different reflex actions ; the medulla .oblongata is a group of centres for various automatic actions, each hav- ing its own definite place. Whether, then, we consider nerve fibres or the lower centres, a strong presumption in favor of the localization of cerebral functions is created. The Doctrine Comparatively New. — Nevertheless, the doctrine as a scientific theory is only a little more 56 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. than a quarter of a century old. The most eminent authorities in physiology half a century ago decided em- phatically against it. One of them declared that he had experimented upon the cortex of different animals, dogs, rabbits, and kids, " had irritated it mechanically, cauterized it with potash, nitric acid, etc., and had passed galvanic currents through it, in different directions, without obtain- ing any signs whatever of muscular contractions." x The same year another eminent physiologist summed up the results of numerous experiments with the declara- tion that the various parts of the cerebrum have no special function, but that the lobes of the cerebrum perform their functions with their whole mass. In 1870 Fritsch and Hitzig began the investigations, which, with those of many other workers in the same field, have caused the opinion of those physiologists to be over- thrown. It has been perfectly established that certain parts of the cerebrum, at least, have certain specific func- tions in our mental life. In stating the evidence for this conclusion no descrip- tion will be attempted of the particular parts of the cortex which have been proved to be connected with particular mental activities. Knowledge of this sort can be best imparted by diagrams, and upon these I shall rely for making clear the areas of the cortex concerned in particu- lar mental activities so far as they are known. The localizations most clearly established are the motor areas, those areas from which the nervous impulse starts which results in the contraction of the voluntary muscles. The evidence which proves that there are such areas is of various kinds. 1 Ladd's Physiological Psychology, p. 253. EFFECTS OF STIMULATION. 57 Effects of Stimulation. — (i) It has been proved that the stimulation of a definite part of the cortex of dogs, monkeys and other animals produces definite movements, sometimes in the face, sometimes in the hind-legs, some- times in the fore-legs, sometimes in the tail, according to the part stimulated. A savage, upon accidentally strik- ing a key of a piano, might suppose that there was no real connection between his action and the sound that followed it, that the one followed the other by accident. But if he struck the same key again and again, and if he extended his experiments to the other keys of the piano, he could hardly fail to believe that there was a causal connection between each particular key and the sound that followed it. In like manner, when we learn that the stimulation of a particular part of the cortex, both by electricity and mechanically, is invariably followed by a particular move- ment; when we learn that this movement does not follow if this connection between the part of the cortex stim- ulated and the nerve centres at the base of the brain has been cut off, it is impossible not to believe that that part of the cortex is the place from which the motor nerves that lead to the muscles concerned in the movement take their origin. Effects of Removal of Parts of the Brain of Animals. — (2) While stimulating definite areas of the cortex occa- sions a definite movement of a definite part of the body, it has been proved that a removal of the cortical area which has been shown by stimulation to be connected with a definite movement, deprives the animal of the power to perform that movement. 58 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. Difficulties. — It must indeed be admitted that these experiments do not permit such definite, clear-cut con- clusions as those arising from the experiments described in the preceding paragraph. For it has been proved that the loss of the power to perform definite movements which results from a removal of a particular part of the cortex is not permanent. Says Professor James : " Even when the entire motor zone of a dog is removed, there is no perma- nent paralysis of any sort." Explanation of these Difficulties. — The explanation of these facts is too intricate and involved to be under- taken in such a book as this. I will only say that the generally accepted explanation is that other centres some- how learn to do the work usually performed by the cen- tres which have been destroyed. If we bear in mind that every cortical centre may be regarded from one point of view as the place where incoming currents, along afferent fibres, become outgoing currents along efferent fibres, and if we remember that innumerable fibres connect every cortical centre with every other, we shall perhaps be able to form some idea of how this is possible. As a train, by the destruction of the city of Chicago with all its tracks and depots, although prevented from going from New York to Denver by its customary route, would neverthe- less eventually reach its destination by another route, so nerve currents, at first prevented from reaching their des- tination — particular muscles — by the destruction of the depots — nerve centres — on their customary route, might eventually reach this destination over new routes or new paths. But whatever may be the explanation of the fact that MEN SUFFERING FROM BRAIN DISEASE. 59 animals whose motor areas have been removed somehow learn to perform the movements which they were unable to perform, the fact can not overthrow the conclusion that definite parts of the cortex are the centres particularly concerned in definite movements. Observations of Men Suffering from Local Brain Dis- ease. — Observations of men suffering from local brain disease have helped to put this conclusion beyond the reach of doubt. These observations have made it possible to map out with a great deal of definiteness the areas of the brain concerned with particular movements. Not only have the centres for the legs and face been mapped out, but within the areas of these centres smaller ones have been mapped out, areas which are concerned with definite movements of the parts of the body concerned. Thus, the areas concerned with the motion of the eyelids, with the muscles of the angle of the mouth, all have their definite positions in the area for the face. " So definite," says Professor Martin, " are the positions of these areas that in cases of localized paralysis, diagnosed as due to lesions of the cerebral cortex, surgeons now have no hesitation in opening the skull in order if possible to remove the cause of trouble, as a small tumor : they know precisely in what spot they will find it." 1 Said Dr. W. W. Keen : " When I say that the existence of a tumor about the size of the end of the forefinger can be diagnosticated, and before touching the head it should be said (and I was present when the statement was made) that it was a small tumor, that it did not lie on the surface of the brain but a little underneath it, and that it lay J Martin's Physiology, p. 624. 60 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. partly under the centre for the face and partly under that for the arm in the left side of the brain, and that the man was operated on and the tumor was found exactly where it was believed to be, with perfect recovery of the patient, — it is something which ten years ago would have been declared the art of a magician rather than the cold preci- sion of science." Evidence such as this may be regarded as conclusive, however difficult we may find it to explain to ourselves all the related facts. Aphasia. — Observations of persons suffering from aphasia confirm this same conclusion. As mentioned in a preceding lesson, in every case in which a post-mortem examination of the brain of a person suffering from motor aphasia has been permitted, an injury has been found in a certain definite part of the brain. The curious facts in connection with aphasia, for example, that a person has control of his voice but can not talk, or that he can write intelligently but can not talk, or that he can write but can not say what he wishes to say, or that he can write but can not read what he has written, are easily explained by the theory of localization of cerebral functions. If we suppose the cortical centre for the control of the voice and for talking are different, it is easy to see that the injury of the one is not necessarily the injury of the other, and that, therefore, there is no necessary connection between the loss of the power to talk and the ability to control the voice. In like manner it is easy to see that the centre for writing may not be impaired, even if the association fibres that connect the writing centre with the cells concerned in the production of certain ideas are injured. Also, a person whose centre for talking is injured HERING ON FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. 6l will be unable to talk, but that will not prevent him from being able to write, if the writing centre is unimpaired. Nor will the fact that a person can write enable him to read what he has written if the association fibres connect- ing the centres concerned in seeing with the centres cor- responding to the idea of what is read are injured. Hering on the Functions of the Cerebrum. --Professor E. Hering states his conclusions as to the functions of the cerebrum in the following language : " The different parts of the hemispheres are like a great tool-box with a count- less variety of tools. Each single element of the cerebrum is a particular tool. Consciousness may be likened to an artisan whose tools gradually become so numerous, so varied and so specialized that he has for every minutest detail of his work a tool which is especially adapted to perform just this precise kind of work very easily and accurately. If he loses one of his tools he still possesses a thousand other tools to do the same work, though under disadvantages both with reference to adaptability and the time involved. Should he happen to lose the use of these thousand also, he might retain hundreds with which to do the work still, but under greatly increased difficulty. He must needs have lost a very large number of his tools if certain actions become absolutely impossible." Problem of Physiological Psychology. — The assertion that each single element of the cerebrum is a particular tool specially adapted to perform a certain work in con- sciousness goes a long way beyond the evidence. The sensations of sight, sound, smell, touch and taste have been localized with varying degrees of probability. But 62 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. if the famous postulate of Meynert becomes satisfactorily proved, as seems possible, the most distinctive feature!} of the consciousness of human beings will remain unex- plained. Professor James states that postulate in the following language : " The highest centres contain nothing but arrangements for representing impressions and move- ments, and other arrangements for coupling the activity of these arrangements together." Suppose this proved. Suppose we knew the cortical centre for each sensation and each movement, and each idea of a sensation and each idea of a movement ; suppose also we knew the association fibres by means of which one sensation (cor- tical centre) is connected with another sensation (cortical centre), shall we have then an explanation of all the tools which consciousness uses ? We shall, provided the entire mental life consists of sensations and ideas, and associa- tions of sensations and ideas. But if this is not all of the mental life, if it leaves out of account the distinctive feature of mental life, the consciousness of relations, as I maintain that it does, then thinking (which consists in the consciousness of relations) is a part of the mental life which in the nature of the case can not be explained by the cerebrum. Upon this conception of the matter, the work possible to Physiological Psychology will have been done when Meynert' s postulate shall have been satisfac- torily proved in all its details. But consciousness, as the relating activity of the mind, as binding sensations into a whole of consciously related parts (concepts), and concepts into a whole of consciously related parts (judgments), and judgments into a whole of consciously related parts' (acts of reasoning), — all these distinctive and unique features of the human mind must seek their explanation in a PROBLEM OF PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 63 Fig. 8. — Diagram of outer surface of left cerebral hemisphere to illustrate the localization of functions. The motor area is shaded in vertical and transverse lines : Sy, fissure of Sylvius ; an, angular gyrus or convolution ; So, fissure of Rolando ; Fr, frontal lobe ; Pa, parietal lobe ; Te, temporal lobe. Only a very few of the more important fissures are indicated. Compare with Fig. 9. (Martin.) Fig. 9. — Diagram of inner surface of left cerebral hemisphere to illustrate cerebral localization. Sy, fissure of Sylvius ; So, fissure of Rolando ; Fr, frontal lobe; Oc, occipital lobe ; Te, temporal lobe • Cc, corpus callosum ; ///, third ventricle. Compare with Fig. 8. (Martin.) 64 THE FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRUM. department of thought to which Physiological Psychology is an entire stranger. The figures on page 63 will show what is known of the parts of the cortex in which the various mental activities have so far been localized. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Show that the cerebrum is more closely related to intelligence than any other part of the brain. 2. Show that the cortex is more closely related to intelligence than any other part of the cerebrum. 3. What is meant by the "localization of cerebral functions"? 4. State the evidence for it. 5. What is Meynert's postulate ? 6. What would follow if it were proved ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. What is meant by the "relating activity of the mind"? 2. Why can not Physiological Psychology explain it ? LESSON VII. WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY? What is Psychology ? — The answer usually given is that Psychology is the science of the mind or soul. But what is the soul ? People who have not thought carefully about it would probably say that, whatever it is, it cer- tainly is not the mind. Animals, they would say, plainly have minds, but no one believes that they have souls. Do Animals Have Souls ? — It may serve to give clear- ness to our ideas to consider the question whether or not animals have souls. Without doubt, in the confused sense in which the word is used in popular language, the true answer is that they have. If you suppose that animals have no souls, let me ask you if you have one. You will undoubtedly say that you have. Suppose I ask you whether you are always dreaming when you are asleep. You will probably answer that you are not. And when you say that you are not dreaming, what do you mean ? "I mean," I imagine you saying, "that there are no thoughts or feelings in my mind." " And when there are no thoughts and feelings in your mind, does your soul continue to exist ? " " I do not understand you." " You say that you do not think you are always dream- 6 S 66 WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY? ing when you are asleep ; and when you say that you are not dreaming, you say that you mean that you have no thoughts or feelings in your mind. So far as thoughts and feelings go, I understand you to say that you are exactly like a dead man. A dead man has no thoughts and feelings, neither have you when you are not dreaming. Now, when you have no thoughts and feelings in your mind, does your soul continue to exist ? " "I certainly believe it does, as I have no reason to believe that it ceases to exist when I fall asleep and begins to exist as soon as I awake, as must be the case if it ceases to exist when I have no thoughts and feelings." " Then you do not mean by soul the thoughts and feel- ings of which you are conscious, or a part of those thoughts and feelings ? " " Again I do not understand you." " You say that your soul does not cease to exist when you have no thoughts or feelings ; now, if it does not, your soul can not be your thoughts and feelings, can it ? " " Why not ? " " Because if it were, when you have no thoughts and feelings, you would have no soul, would you ? " " I see that I would not." "And it can not be a part of your thoughts and feel- ings ? " " No, for if it were any part of them when I had none of any kind, I would have no soul." "You mean by soul, then, not thoughts and feelings, but the thing that has thoughts and feelings ? " " Again I am obliged to say that I do not understand you." "A German professor is said to have begun a first THE SOUL ONE OF THREE THINGS. 67 lesson on Psychology in this way : ' Students, think about the wall.' After a moment's pause : ' Now think about the thing that thinks about the wall. The thing that thinks about the wall is what is to be the subject of your study.' That is what you mean by soul, is it not — the thing which thinks and feels, the thing which has thoughts and feelings ? " "It is." " And what do you mean by mind ? " " I mean that which thinks and feels, or that which has thoughts and feelings." "But things which are identical with the same thing are identical with each other, are they not ? " " They are." " And if the soul is that which thinks and feels, and the mind is that which thinks and feels, they must be the same, must they not ? " " I see that they must." " If then you say that dogs, for instance, have minds, can you refuse to admit that they have souls ? " " I am obliged to confess that I can not." The Soul One of Three Things. — In this imaginary dialogue you may say that in the nature of the case I can prove what I wish to prove, since I can put any words in your mouth I please. But if you will carefully consider it, you will see that you are obliged to say that the soul is one of three things : It is either all of our thoughts and feelings, or a part of them, or the thing which has thoughts and feelings — the thing which thinks and feels and wills. If you say that the soul is all or a part of our thoughts and feelings — mental facts, in a word — then, instead of 68 WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY ? saying that Psychology is the science of the soul, it would be much plainer to say that Psychology is the science of mental facts. But if you say that the soul is that which thinks and feels and wills, then, as we have seen, there is no difference between soul and mind, and we are left with the definition, Psychology is the science of the mind. Meaning of Mind. — But what do you mean by mind ? What we have seen in the case of the soul — that it con- sists of thoughts, feelings, and acts of the will, or that which, thinks, feels, and wills — is plainly true of the mind also. It must either be that which thinks, feels, and wills, or it must be the thoughts, feelings, and acts of will of which we are conscious — mental facts, in one word. But what do we know about that which thinks, feels, and wills, and what can we find out about it ? Where is it ? You will probably say, in the brain. But if you are speaking literally, if you say that it is in the brain, as a pencil is in the pocket, then you must mean that it takes up room, that it occupies space, and that would make it very much like a material thing. In truth, the more carefully you consider it, the more plainly you will see what thinking men have known for a long time — that we do not know and can not learn anything about the thing which thinks and feels and wills. It is beyond the range of human knowledge. The books which define Psychology as the science of mind have not a word to say about that which thinks and feels and wills. They are entirely taken up with these thoughts and feelings and acts of the will — ■ mental facts, in a word — trying to tell us what they are, and to arrange them in classes, and tell us the circum- stances or conditions under which they exist. DEFINITION OF MENTAL FACTS. 69 It seems to me, therefore, that it would be better to define Psychology as the science of the experiences, phe- nomena, or facts of the mind, soul, or self — of mental facts, in a word. Definition of Mental Facts. — But what is a mental fact ? Let us say, to start with, that it is a fact known directly to but one person, and that the person experi- encing it. If you are standing on the street with a half dozen friends, you can all see the houses, and men and women and horses. You can all hear the tramping of feet and the clatter of the vehicles that pass along the street. These facts are open to the observation, of all of you alike. But there is a class of facts known directly to but one of you — what you think and feel and will, you know, and no one else does ; what A thinks and feels and wills, he knows, and no one else does. These thoughts and feelings and volitions are experiences, phenomena, or facts of the mind, soul, or self — mental facts, in a word — facts known to but one person directly, and that the person experiencing them. Unconscious Mental Facts. — But I believe there are mental facts not known to any one. If you are intent upon a book, the clock may strike and you may not hear it at the time, and a minute after you may be entirely sure that you heard the clock strike a minute before, although you did not know at the time that you heard it. The true explanation of facts like these seems to be that the clock produced a sensation which you would have known was a sensation of sound if you had attended to it at the time the clock struck, and in the sense of having received a 70 WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY t sensation because of the clock, you heard it. But you did not know that you heard it until the minute after. Now, what must we call this sensation ? Plainly a mental fact, although there was a time when it was not known by any one. Still, however, it is marked off quite sharply from all other facts — physical facts we may call them, which may be known with equal directness by any number of people — by the circumstance that, although not known, it is knowable by but one person, and that the person experiencing it. We may then define a mental fact as a fact known or knowable to but one person directly, and that the person experiencing it, and Psychology as the science of mental facts, or the science of the facts of mind. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1 . How is the question, " What is Psychology, " usually answered ? 2. Would you say that dogs have souls ? 3. How would you defend your answer ? 4. What is the objection to denning Psychology as the science of the mind or soul ? 5. How would you define Psychology ? .6. What is a mental fact? 7. What is a physical fact ? 8. Into what two classes would you put mental facts ? 9. Can you have mental facts without knowing that you have them? 10. Give examples. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Do animals reason ? 2. Are you ever in a state of dreamless sleep ? 3. What is the difference between matter as a substance, and matter as a group of phenomena ? QUESTIONS. 71 4. What do we know of matter as a substance — of the experi- ences, phenomena, or facts of the mind, soul, or self ? 5. Why is it that it so often happens that you can not tell your motives for what you do ? 6. In what sense is it true that the soul is in the brain ? LESSON VIII. THE SUBJECT MATTER OF PSYCHOLOGY. In the last lesson I tried to point out the subject of which Psychology treats. I objected to the usual defini- tion, " Psychology is the science of the mind or soul," not because it is incorrect, but because I do not believe it gives young students definite ideas. I want you to get at the outset the clearest possible notion of the subject you are to study. I want you to realize that the facts of which you are directly conscious, the facts known directly to you only — that these and similar facts form the subject of which Psychology treats. Physical and Mental Facts. — We may, perhaps, put the subject matter of Psychology in a clearer light by contrasting mental facts with physical facts. A physical fact, as we know, is one open to the observation of all men. Trees, houses, flowers, fences — the whole of external nature, in a word — are physical facts, since all of us can observe them with equal directness. But what shall we say of the brain, or any of the internal organs of one's body ? Are they mental facts ? They are, provided they are known to but one person directly, and that the person experiencing them. But careful reflection will con- vince you that no one has any direct knowledge of his body. 7? DIRECT KNOWLEDGE OF. OUR BODIES. Jj Have we Direct Knowledge of our Bodies? — That we have such an organ as the heart, for example, was established by a process of reasoning. If we had known it directly, it is hard to see why the world was obliged to wait for Harvey to demonstrate the circulation of the blood — why it was not from the beginning a matter of direct knowledge. Strange as it may seem at first thought, it is pretty nearly absolutely certain that we have no direct knowledge of our own bodies. We learn of the existence of our own bodies as we do of the rest of the external world, by a process of reasoning. Descartes long ago said that if we could move the sun or moon by an effort of will, as we can our hands and feet, we should regard them as a part of our own bodies. The sole difference, so far as Psychology is concerned, between any external object, as a tree, and our bodies, is (i) that the former does not move in obedience to our wills, and (2) that it is not a source of sensations as our bodies are. I put my hand on a hot stove, and I have a feeling of pain. I put a stick in the same position, and I have no such sensation. How a Child Distinguishes his Body from the Rest of the External World. — Any one who has ever watched a very young child will be quite sure that he has not dis- criminated his body from the rest of the external world. ' He first confuses his body with the rest of the external world. Little by little he comes to learn that a little piece of this external world sustains a very peculiar relation to him — that it obeys his will, moves when he wishes it to move, stops when he wishes it to stop, and that it is the direct occasion of pleasure and pain as nothing else is. These two facts, then, and these two facts alone, distin- 74 THE SUBJECT MATTER OF PSYCHOLOGY. guish our bodies from the rest of the external world, so far as Psychology is concerned, and give us our peculiar interest in them. While this course of reasoning makes it clear that the internal organs of the body are not mental facts, another course will make it equally clear that they are physical facts. Is a pencil in a drawer a physical fact ? No one can see it. No, you say, but every one can see it if it is taken out of the drawer. Precisely. We need, then, to think of a physical fact as one open to the observation of all men, certain conditions being complied with. Bearing this in mind, we see that the various internal organs of the body are physical facts, because when the body is dis- sected they are open to the observation of all men, pre- cisely as is a tree or flower. Nature of the Mental Facts of which we are Conscious. — Hoping, then, that the difference between mental and physical facts is so clear that there will be no danger of confusing them, permit me to call your attention a little more closely to the mental facts which we are to study, in order that we may avoid a mistake into which many people fall — the mistake of supposing that any of the mental facts of which we are conscious are simple. You remember our definition of Psychology — the science of the facts, phenomena, or experiences, which, when we are conscious of them, we are conscious of as experiences of the mind, soul, or self. The point I wish to emphasize is that we are never conscious of any experience, separated or detached from the mind. As you read this, you are, perhaps, conscious of attending. Look into your own mind and see what it is you are conscious of; it is of OF UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL FACTS. 75 yourself attending, is it not ? — not of an abstract act of attention. So, also, when you perceive or remember or imagine or reason, what you are conscious of is not an abstract act of perception or memory or imagination or reasoning, but yourself perceiving, yourself remembering, yourself imagining, yourself reasoning. This, of course, is only another way of saying that you yourself enter as a constituent into every mental fact of which you are con- scious. In other words, in being conscious of mental facts, we are conscious of ourselves. Many writers appear to think that a mental fact of which we are conscious exists independently of the mind and separate from it, as a tree or a stone seems to do. But a careful looking into your own mind will convince you that they are mistaken ; it will convince you that when you are conscious of a mental fact you are really conscious of yourself in a certain act or state, of yourself having a certai?i experience. As you never know the act or state or experience apart from your- self, so you never know yourself apart from the act or state or experience. Hume said that when he looked into his own mind he always found thoughts and feelings and acts of the will, but he never found anything else — he never found any self. Certainly not in the sense in which he was speaking. He was looking for a self apart from, and independent of, the various thoughts, feelings, and acts of the will of which he was conscious, and no such self is to be found. The self of consciousness, I repeat, exists — not apart from, but as an element of, the various experi- ences of which we are conscious. Of Unconscious Mental Facts. — You will be careful to note that the mental facts into which the mind enters j6 THE SUBJECT MATTER OF PSYCHOLOGY. as a constituent are those of which we are conscious. I have already tried to show that mental facts exist in the lives of each of us of which we are not conscious ; mental facts of the existence of which we never know save by a process of reasoning. Of such mental facts the mind is not an element, and that is precisely why we are not con- scious of them. The mind is conscious, or has direct knowledge, of only its own acts or states or modifications or experiences. A mental fact which is not an act or state or modification of the mind, the mind can learn the existence of only by a process of reasoning. And now I hope the scope of our definition of Psychology is entirely clear. Psychology is the science of those facts, phenomena, or experiences which, when we are conscious of them, we are conscious of as experiences of the mind, soul, or self. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What is the usual definition of Psychology, and what is the objection to it? 2. Is the brain a mental fact ? Why not ? 3. How do we come to distinguish our bodies from the rest of the external world ? 4. What is the difference between a mental fact of which we are conscious and one of which we are not conscious ? 5. Why is it that we are not conscious of some mental facts ? 6. State and explain the definition of Psychology. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1 . When was Harvey born, and what did he do ? 2. Descartes is called the father of modern philosophy; what does that mean ? When was he born ? 3. Hume is called a philosophical skeptic; what is a philosophical skeptic ? LESSON IX. THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. Kinds of Mental Facts in which Psychology is Inter- ested. — " But in what kind of mental facts," perhaps you lsk, " is Psychology interested ? I had the toothache yesterday ; that, if I understand you, was a mental fact ; but Psychology has no interest in such facts, has it ? " No and yes. That you, John Smith, had the toothache is a matter of indifference to Psychology. Psychology has no more interest in that fact than the science of Botany has in the fact that you have a bed of geraniums. Like all sciences, its aim is general knowledge ; and that you, John Smith, had the toothache is not general knowledge — it is knowledge of an individual. But when you had the tooth- ache, you found it difficult to study, did you not? You can doubtless recall many similar cases in your experience — cases in which severe pain interfered with that concen- tration of mind which we call study. And keen delight is just as unfavorable to study. You received a letter some time ago that made you very happy, so happy that you could not concentrate your mind on your work for an hour ; and you find that the experience of other people is like yours in this regard. So, although Psychology cares nothing, about your toothache, there is something 77 78 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. in the experience that it does care about. So far as your experience illustrates what is true of all minds under similar circumstances, so far it is a matter of interest to Psychology. Laws of Mind. — Or I might say that what Psychology especially seeks to ascertain is laws of mind, or of mental facts. A law of mental facts is a general truth about mental facts — something which will be true, not only in all your experience, but in the experience of every one under similar circumstances. We have just been consider- ing an example of a law of mental facts — that intense feeling, whether of pleasure or pain, can not exist along with concentration of mind on another subject. That is a law of mental facts, because it is true of the experiences of all men without exception. Since one of the conditions of concentration of thought — one of the things which makes it possible — is the absence of intense feeling, concentra- tion of thought, on a subject foreign to the feeling, never can co-exist with intense feeling. That is a perfectly general proposition, and, as such, illustrates a law of the mind. Evidently, then, to ascertain laws of the mind, you must not only study the facts of your own experience, but those of other people. If you confine yourself to your own experience, you can not be sure that your knowledge is general ; you are liable to confuse a personal peculiarity with a principle of human nature. Imagine Andrew Jack- son endeavoring to get a knowledge of human nature by studying himself alone. If he had taken himself as a type of men in general, he would have had very erroneous Ideas of human nature. INTROSPECTIVE METHOD. 79 Introspective Method. — But can you study the minds of other people in the same way that you can your own ? Try it. You often wish to know whether your pupils are attending to you, or whether they understand you. Can you find out, in the same way, that you know whether or not you are attending ? Plainly not. You know that you are attending simply by looking into your own mind, and you can not look into the mind of any one else. The word which means looking into is " introspection " ; and the adjective " introspective " seems, therefore, to describe best the way or mode or method in which you study your own mind. But you can not learn anything about the minds of other people in that way. When you study other people, you notice their looks and actions.. Many teachers think they can tell whether their pupils are attending to them without asking questions. They look or act as though they were attending, and so the teachers who believe this con- clude they are. Conclude, I say. Note the word. It denotes a process of reasoning. And when we study the minds of others, we have to do it by processes of reason- ing — by acts of inference. Inferential Method. — You do not even know that there is any one in the world besides yourself except by a process of reasoning. When you say you see a man, the truth is that you have sensations of color, and from this fact infer the presence of a human being like yourself. When you see this human being laugh, you infer that he is amused, just as you are conscious of being amused when you laugh. All that you learn of any human being you learn by reasoning — by inference. As, then, we call the method of studying our own minds the introspective — 80 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. since we study them by looking directly within — so we may call the method of studying the minds of others the inferential, since we do it by processes of inference. The Inferential Method and the Study of History. — Whatever you learn about the minds of others — whether you learn it from what you see them do, or what you read about them — you learn by means of the inferential method. When you learn how Washington exposed him- self when Braddock's army was routed, and at the, battle of Princeton, you infer that he was brave, precisely as you would have done if you had seen him. Since all the facts of human history relate to the actions of men, they are materials which the inferential method uses to increase our knowledge of .human nature. When we learn, for example, that the ancient Greeks left their weak children exposed, in order that they might die, the inferential method enables us to see that Greek fathers and mothers did not love their children as fathers and mothers love their children now, and that they probably loved their country more, since a weak child was considered of no worth because it gave no promise of being able to be of service to the State. When we know that Aristotle said that all that was necessary to reform or relax the manners of a people was to add one string to the lyre or take one from it, the same method enables us to see that the Greeks had a susceptibility to music of which we can scarcely have any idea to-day. When we know that " those doughty old mediaeval knights despised the petty clerk's trick of writing, because, compared to a life of toilsome and heroic action, it seemed to them slavish and unmanly," we know that they looked upon a very different world from ours — INFERENTIAL METHOD AND MIND STUDY. 8l a world of different aims and ideals ; that the knowledge we prize so highly, and toil so painfully to gain, was a thing of no value in their eyes. The inferential method even uses the relics of the prehistoric ages to add to our knowl- edge of men. It takes the rough tools of the cave-dwellers and forces from them a little knowledge of the strange men who used them. Inferential Method and the Study of our own Minds. — I have said that the introspective method is the method we use in studying our own mental facts. That needs qualification. It is possible for us to study our own minds by means of the inferential method. People often forget their motives for their actions. They say : " I do not know how I came to do that." In such cases they can learn their motives only by means of the inferential method, precisely as though they were other people whose actions they were considering, and which they were trying to account for. It is doubtless true, as we shall see in a later chapter, that in many cases there is no reason in the sense oi conscious motive. Some idea suggested the action, and the action was straightway performed in the entire absence of anything that can be called reasoning. Further, the introspective method can only give us individual facts. As the bodily eye only sees isolated objects, and can not connect them by laws, so the eye of the mind only sees isolated mental facts, and can not connect them together by laws. In other words, we observe facts — not laws. Laws are the result of inference — never of direct obser- vation. The introspective and inferential methods, then — the two methods of studying mind — evidently sustain a close 82 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. relation to each other. You can, indeed, use the intra spective method without the inferential, in the mere collec- tion of facts; but you can not use the inferential at all without the introspective. When you infer that people have such and such mental facts under such and such cir- cumstances, it is because you know by introspection that you have the same mental facts under the same circum- stances. The laughter and tears of others would have no meaning to you if you had never known amusement or sorrow. Difficulties of the Inferential Method. — Each of these methods has its peculiar difficulties. The results reached by means of the inferential method are always more or less uncertain. If you have ever made a thorough study of the history of any great man, you have doubtless had an excellent illustration of this. While different his- torians generally agree substantially as to the actions of men, they differ very widely in their interpretations of those actions. Federalist historians, and those who sym- pathize with them, usually regard Jefferson, for example, as a demagogue, while Democratic historians regard him as an exalted and devoted patriot. The reason of course is that, using the inferential method, the one explained his actions by one set of mental facts, the other by another. Illustration. — A passage in John Fiske's The Begin- nings of New England gives such an excellent illustration of the inferential method and its difficulties that it deserves to be quoted at length : " It is difficult for the civilized man and the savage to understand each other. As a rule, the one does not know DIFFICULTIES OF INTROSPECTIVE. METHOD. 83 what the other is thinking about." And then, speaking of Eliot, and what the Indians thought about him, the author goes on : " His design in founding his villages of Christian Indians was in the highest degree benevolent and noble, but the heathen Indians could hardly be expected to see anything in it but a cunning scheme for destroying them. Eliot's converts were for the most part from the Massa- chusetts tribe, the smallest and weakest of all. The Plymouth converts came chiefly from the tribe next in weakness — the Pokanokets, or Wampanoags. The more powerful tribes — Narragansetts, Nipmucks, and Mohegans — furnished very few converts. When they saw the white intruders gathering members of the weakest tribes into villages of English type, and teaching them strange gods while clothing them in strange garments, they probably supposed that the pale-faces were simply adopting these Indians into their white tribe as a means of increasing their military strength. At any rate, such a proceeding would be perfectly intelligible to the savage mind, whereas the nature of Eliot's design lay quite beyond its ken. As the Indians recovered from their supernatural dread of the English, and began to regard them as using human means to accomplish their ends, they must, of course, interpret their conduct in such light as savage experience could afford. It is one of the commonest things in the world for a savage tribe to absorb weak neighbors by adoption, and thus increase its force preparatory to a deadly assault upon other neighbors." Difficulties of the Introspective Method. — The great difficulty with the introspective method is that a mental fact vanishes as soon as you begin to examine it introspec- 84 THE METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. tively. The feeling of amusement, of course, is a mental fact. The next time you are amused, suppose you try to analyze the feeling. Some psychologists say that it con- sists in part of a feeling of superiority. If you make a study of your experience to see whether they are right, your feeling of amusement will disappear. Or suppose you try to ascertain what sort of a mental fact pity is. When you find yourself pitying some one, if you examine your experience to see what pity is, the feeling will vanish. If the nature of flowers were such that they disappeared the moment one began to observe them closely, the study of Botany would exactly illustrate the difficulty of studying the mind by means of the introspective method. And as, in such a case, the botanist would have to content himself with observing his facts in the dim light of memory, so also must the psychologist. As his facts disappear the moment he begins to examine them, his only resource is to appeal to the memory — his introspection becomes retrospection. Study of Children. — Of course the minds that are of the most importance for you as teachers to study are the minds of children, and it is evident that you must study them by means of the inferential method. If you would get that knowledge of them that will enable you to teach them well, you must note their likes and dislikes, their amusements, their games, the books they read, the mis- takes they make — everything, in short, that may throw light on their minds. Do not rely on any knowledge of the mind you can get from this or any book. A good book on Psychology is like a guide in a strange city — useful chiefly in telling you where to look. But, as a guide QUESTIONS. 85 is of no service to a man who refuses to use his eyes, so a writer on Psychology can be of little use to his readers unless they constantly test his statements by their own experiences and by the study of the minds of those around them. 1 QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1 . What kind of mental facts constitutes therscience of Psychology f Illustrate. 2. What is a law of mental facts ? Illustrate. 3. State and explain and illustrate the two ways of studying mental facts. 4. Illustrate how the inferential method uses historical facts to enlarge our knowledge of mind. 5. How can you study your own mind by means of the inferential method ? 6. Point out the relations that exist between the two methods. 7. State and illustrate the difficulties of the two methods. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Are there any mental facts which do not form part of the science of Psychology ? 2. Do you know any facts which indicate that there is a difference in the keenness of internal perception in different people ? 3. If you were a Turk or a Chinaman, and knew nothing of any other people, how would it influence your notion of human nature ? 4. Is pity a state of pleasure ? 5. How does the quotation from Fiske illustrate the difficulties of the inferential method ? 1 For a brief explanation of some varieties of the inferential method, tee Appendix B. LESSON X. NECESSARY TRUTHS AND NECESSARY BELIEFS. We would all agree that Geometry does right to state its axioms at the beginning. All its demonstrations depend upon them, and therefore it is proper that they should receive our attention at the outset. What we can Learn by Means of the Introspective Method. — For similar reasons it is important for us to ascertain as clearly as possible what we can learn by means of the introspective method. Since the introspec- tive and the inferential methods are the only methods of studying mental facts, and since the inferential is based on the introspective, what we learn by means of the intro- spective method lies at the foundation of our knowledge of mind. If you were building a house, you would be especially careful about the foundation. You would want ' it all strong and well made, but you would take particular pains to see that there was no flaw in the foundation. No matter how strong and fine and beautiful the rest of the house might be, you would feel that if the foundation was weak the whole thing might come tumbling down about you any day. So it behooves us to look carefully to the foundation of our knowledge of mind, and therefore to ascertain precisely what kind of knowledge we have of the- 86 INTROSPECTIVE METHOD. 87 facts known to us through introspection, and what we can learn by means of it. But the knowledge gained by introspection so closely resembles another kind of knowledge that the two are liable to be confused, unless at the outset the latter is clearly explained. To this end permit me, in imagination, to talk with you about some familiar matters. "Have you ever seen a stick with but one end, or a white crow ? " " No," you answer. " Do you think it possible that you ever will ? " " Possible to see a white crow ? Certainly there is no impossibility in that. I know no reason why a bird might not exist like the crow in every respect except the color of its feathers. But a stick with one end ? That is not merely an impossibility ; it is an absurdity. You can not even assert its existence." " Pardon me, but I think you are mistaken. ' This stick has but one end.' Have I not asserted its existence ? " " Apparently, but not really. You have indeed strung a lot of words together in the form of a sentence — a sen- tence to which I have no objection on the score of gram- mar. But there is one fatal objection to it : it does not mean anything." " Does not mean anything ? I do not understand you." "Your statement does not express any action of the mind. All sentences that mean anything are expressions of thought. But when you say, ' This stick has but one end,' you have simply used your organs of speech ; you have not thought anything. I might teach a parrot to say, ' Kant's arguments in defense of the antinomies of human reason have never been refuted.' But what would those 88 NECESSARY TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. words mean in the mouth of a parrot ? Nothing, and that is all you mean when you assert the existence of a one- ended stick." " Possibly I am stupid, but I really do not see why." " For this very simple reason : The word ' stick ' means a thing that has two ends. When, therefore, you say, ' This stick has but one end,' it is equivalent to saying, ' This two-ended thing has but one end; this thing, which has two ends, has but one end.' Now it is easy enough to say that, but impossible to think it, is it not ? " " I see that it is. A thing can not have two ends and but one end at the same time; it can not both be and not be." Necessary Truths. — This is an example of what meta- physicians call necessary truths 1 — "a truth or law the opposite of which is inconceivable, contradictory, nonsensi- cal, impossible." 2 A little reflection will enable us to think of many others. Two straight lines can not inclose a space ; two + three = five ; these are examples of neces- sary truths because the opposite of each of them is incon- ceivable, contradictory, nonsensical, impossible. If two straight lines could inclose a space, they could be straight and crooked at the same time; if two + three could be more or less than five, it could be itself and not itself at the same time, which is absurd, contradictory, impossible. To determine whether a proposition expresses a neces- sary truth or not, we must see if we can put any meaning into the proposition which contradicts it. But in apply- ing the test we must be on our guard against confusing 1 These are sometimes called intuitions. 9 Ferrier's Institutes of Metaphysics, p. 20. NECESSARY BELIEFS. 89 putting a meaning into the subject and predicate with put- ting a meaning into the proposition. "This square is round." Here both subject and predicate bring up familiar ideas. But a moment's reflection enables us to see that the intelligibleness of the subject and predicate is a very different thing from the intelligibleness of the proposition. For if the square is round, it is itself and not itself at the same time, which is unthinkable and impossible. Necessary Beliefs. — Let us now turn our attention to a class of propositions that, at first sight, look very much like necessary truths, but which, nevertheless, are funda- mentally different. You go to your room on a cold winter morning and begin to build a fire. " Why do you build a fire ? " I ask. " Because it is cold." " What makes you think that a fire will make it warmer ? " " Because it did so yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that — because it always has done so in the past." "But what has the past to do with the present and the future ? How do you know that things will behave in the future as they have done in the past ? " I can not answer the question ; I do not believe any one can. The past, as Bain says, is separated from the future by a chasm which no resources of logic will ever enable us to bridge. 1 1 " The most authentic recollection gives only what has been, some- thing that has ceased and can concern us no longer. A far more perilous leap remains, the leap to the future. All our interest is concentrated on what is yet to be ; the present and the past are of value only as a clue to the events that are to come. " The postulate that we are in quest of must carry us across the gulf, from the experienced known, either present or remembered, to the unex- perienced and unknown — must perform the leap of real inference. ' Water has quenched our thirst in the past j by what assumption do we affirm 90 NECESSARY TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. But while we "can give no reason or evidence" that "what has been will be," that things will behave in the future as they have done in the past under precisely simi- lar circumstances, the peculiar fact is that we do not want any. When we know that a thing has happened in the past, we are entirely sure that it will, under similar cir- cumstances, in the future — so sure that we can not help believing it even if we would. Necessity of Necessary Truths and Necessary Beliefs. — This is one of the reasons why we may properly call such beliefs necessary — the fact that we can not rid our- selves of them. But while they share this characteristic of inevitableness or necessity with necessary truths, the necessity in the two cases is of a very different character. The necessity of necessary truths is a necessity of seeing; the necessity of necessary beliefs is a necessity of believ- ing. We know with absolute certainty that two straight lines can not inclose a space ; we believe with irresistible strength of conviction that what has been will be, under similar circumstances — not that it must be. We can not even think of two straight lines inclosing a space ; we can very easily think of this orderly universe becoming a chaos in which there would be an utter absence of law and order, in which combustion would be followed by heat one day, cold another, and so on. The necessity, then, of necessary beliefs is a necessity of belief, not of knowledge. We do that the same will happen in the future ? ' Experience does not teach us this ; experience is only what has actually been ; and after ever so many repetitions of a thing there still remains the peril of venturing upon the untrodden land of future possibility. ' What has been will be,' justifies the inference that water will assuage thirst in after-times. We can give no reason or evidence for this uniformity." — Bain's Logic, p. 671. NECESSITY OF TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. 9 1 not know, strictly speaking, that the thing we believe so firmly is true, but we believe it with irresistible strength of conviction, notwithstanding. Some of our necessary- beliefs — for instance, the one we have been considering — have another kind of necessity. If we did not assume that the past would enable us to judge of the future, all rational action would be impossible. Take that belief from the minds of men, and their rational activities would cease as suddenly as though they had been transformed into stone. I eat when I am hungry, drink when I am thirsty, rest when I am tired — do every- thing which I do under the influence of that belief — so far as my actions have any rational basis. The farmer sows, the mechanic builds, the lawyer prepares his brief, the doctor writes his prescription, because each thinks that a knowledge of the past enables him to anticipate the future more or less accurately. The principle, then, that what has been will be, is necessary not only in the sense that we can not get rid of it, but also in the sense that we must believe it in order to live in the world. If a, being were born in the world destitute of the tendency or predisposition to accept the past as in some sense a type of the future, he would necessarily perish. Of necessary beliefs of this class it is absurd to raise the question as to their truth. Though we are not pre- vented from questioning them by the very nature of our minds — as in the case of necessary truths — still, if we must accept them in order to act and live, the possibility of questioning them will remain a bare possibility. But if we have beliefs that are necessary in the sense that we can not get rid of them, but not in the sense that 92 NECESSARY TRUTHS AND BELIEFS. we must accept them because of their practical importance, it is evident that the question as to their truth is altogether in order. A dozen different branches of science — physics, chemistry, physiology, astronomy, etc., as well as Psychol- ogy — have shown us very clearly that many of the things which seem to be true — and which continue to seem to be after we know they are not — are false. The sun still seems to rise and set, although we know it does not. To call a halt to investigation, therefore, on the threshold of necessary beliefs of this character would amount to an attempt to protect Error against the assaults of Truth. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What is the relation between the introspective and inferential methods ? 2. Why is it important for us to learn what we are conscious of ? 3. State the difference between a necessary truth and a necessary belief. 4. Can you doubt a necessary belief ? 5. What are the two classes of necessary beliefs ? 6. Can you question the truth of a necessary belief ? 7. What is the difference in meaning between questions four and six? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Make as complete a fist as you can of what you regard as necessary truths. 2. What do you suppose the phrase, " entertain the idea," orig- inally meant ? 3. You believe many things because, as you say, you remember them. Are the assertions of memory examples of necessary truths, or necessary beliefs, or neither ? 4. What does Bain mean by the " leap of real inference "? QUESTIONS. 93 5. Mention some other necessary beliefs besides the one spoken of in the lesson. 6. Mention some that are necessary in the sense that we can not help believing them, but not necessary in the sense that the nature of the world compels us to assume them. 7. Mention some things that seem to us to be true, although science has shown that they are not. 8. What is meant by the " uniformity of nature " ? LESSON XL WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? The object of the last lesson was to make clear the distinction between necessary truths and necessary beliefs. I tried to show that there are truths that the mind must see when it clearly grasps the subject and predicate of the proposition that expresses them. But the mind by no means inevitably sees all the necessary truths it is capable of seeing, because there are subjects and predicates that are beyond its grasp at certain stages of its development, and others that it might grasp, but which, as a matter of fact, it has not grasped. " Seven plus five makes twelve " is a necessary truth. But the child does not see it, because he can not grasp seven and five. A necessary truth, then, is not a truth that the mind must see, but one which, when seen, is seen to be necessary. Necessary beliefs resemble necessary truths in that we are not only willing, but, in a measure, forced to believe them, in the absence of reason and evidence. Indeed, we are certain both of necessary truths and necessary beliefs ; but our certainty differs widely in the two cases. In the one, it is a certainty of knowledge ; in the other, of belief. Moreover, the- necessity of necessary beliefs, unlike that of necessary truths, is not in all cases absolutely unyield- ing in its nature. When we look through an opera-glass 94 NATURE OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 95 we can not help seeming to see the object much nearer than it really is. Such irresistible "seemings" we call beliefs until we learn that they are false, but no longer. This is one of a multitude of instances in which what seems to be true is directly opposed to what we know to be true. It would appear, therefore, only a matter of com- mon prudence to accept as true only those necessary beliefs which we can not get along without. Reasons for Studying the Nature of Necessary Truths. — Necessary truths, necessary beliefs, and what we are conscious of, then, constitute the foundation of everything we know and believe, not only about mind, but about the world in general. Now that we know what necessary truths and necessary beliefs are, it will be com- paratively easy for us to determine the kind of knowledge that consciousness is, and the kinds of facts of which we are conscious. If we had attempted to learn what con- sciousness is before making a study of necessary truths, there would have been great danger of our confusing the knowledge of the facts that we are conscious of, with the knowledge of necessary truths. Nature of Conscious Knowledge. — Let us first try to ascertain what that kind of knowledge is that we call con- scious knowledge. For to ask what kind of facts we are conscious of is to ask what we know in precisely the same •way, with the same kind and degree of certainty, that we do the facts which every one admits we are conscious of. Every one admits that we are conscious of the mental facts we know by introspection. Evidently, in order to learn whether we are conscious of anything else, we need g6 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? to learn whether we know anything else in the same way, and with the same kind and degree of certainty ; we need to learn whether our knowledge of any other facts has the same characteristics as our knowledge of mental facts. When Columbus first came to this country, if he had been told that certain animals that he saw were buffaloes, he would have had to learn their characteristics in order to be able to recognize buffaloes when he saw them again. Knowing their characteristics, he would have been able to recognize a buffalo as easily as a horse or dog. In like manner, since we are conscious of those facts which we have agreed to call mental facts, we have to learn the characteristics of our knowledge of mental facts, in order to learn whether we are conscious of anything else. For if our knowledge of anything else has the same character- istics as our conscious knowledge, it also must be conscious knowledge. What, then, are the characteristics of the kind of knowledge that every one admits to be conscious knowledge ? Have you ever been in pain ? Suppose that, while you were writhing in agony, some one had asked you if you were sure you had any pain. How do you think you would have answered the question — if, indeed, you had possessed the patience to answer it at all ? You would have said, I think, that your certainty was so great that it could be no greater. Put so much water into a glass, and not another drop, not an atom more can you make it hold. So, you would have said, certainty beyond or greater than yours it was impossible for any conscious being to have. " But may you not be deceived — may not your pain be a mere illusion, like the experiences of your dreams ? " your questioner might have asked. " Deceived as to being in DIFFERENCE OF KNOWLEDGE. 97 pain, when I am literally/writhing in agony ? No ! I know it so absolutely that I know that I can not be mistaken. There is much that I believe that I realize I may be mis- taken in. But this is certainty — certainty that admits of no doubt — certainty that makes doubt an absurdity and an impossibility." Conscious knowledge, then, is abso- lutely certain knowledge — knowledge so certain as to make doubt an absurdity and an impossibility. Difference between Knowledge of Necessary Truths and Conscious Knowledge. — But this, we have seen, is exactly what the knowledge of necessary truths is. We know that two straight lines can not inclose a space so certainly as to make doubt an absurdity and an impos- sibility. Is there no difference between the knowledge of necessary truths and conscious knowledge ? If we compare the attitude of our minds towards a necessary truth with its attitude towards a mental fact, I think we shall see a difference. Two straight lines can not inclose a space. Where? In England, on the sun, wherever straight lines are, we know that they can not inclose a space. Our knowledge- is not of an individual fact, with which the mind seems face to face, but of an entire class of facts, wherever they may exist. But our knowledge of a pain, for example, although it is like our knowledge of a necessary truth in the kind and degree of certainty that it gives us, differs from it in being knowledge of an individual fact with which the mind seems face to face — of which the mind seems directly aware. Conscious knowledge, then, is absolutely certain knowl- edge of individual facts of which the mind seems directly aware. Instead, then, of asking whether there are any 98 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? facts except mental facts that we are conscious of, we can put the question in this form : Are there any facts except mental facts with which the mind seems face to face, and which we know with such absolute certainty as to make doubt an absurdity and an impossibility ? Are you Conscious of the Stars? — Perhaps, some evening shortly after reading this lesson, you will take a walk. As you glance at the stars shining so brightly , above you, you think of the subject of the lesson, and ask yourself if you really are conscious of them. Do you, as you see those little twinkling points of light in the heavens above you, know that they exist, so certainly, so absolutely, as to make doubt an impossibility ? The fixed stars, as we know, are almost inconceivably far away. They are so far away that astronomers never think of stating their distance in miles. Instead of telling us their distance in miles, they tell us how long it takes light to travel from them to us. Now, light travels about 180,000 miles in a second, and the nearest of the fixed stars is so far away that it takes light three years to come from it to us. Suppose, then, that the nearest fixed star had been destroyed two years and a half ago. Would you see it to-night ? Certainly, just as you see any other star ; for the light that strikes your eyes as you look at it left it two years and a half ago — six months before it was destroyed. And for the same reason you would see it to-morrow night, and the next, and so on for six months. Night after night for six months you would see the star shining above you, although it did not exist at all. When, then, I ask if you know that the stars exist as you look at them, evidently the most you can say is that they do, THE OBJECTS ABOUT YOU. 99 unless they have been destroyed since the light left them by which you now see them. But if that is your answer, you can not say that you know that they exist so absolutely as to make doubt an impossibility, for you do not know that they have not been destroyed since the light left them which enables you to see them. Therefore you are not conscious of them. Are you Conscious of the Objects about you ? — " But at any rate," perhaps you will say, " I am conscious of the objects about me. I take a walk, and I see the beautiful bouquets of autumn adorning the hill-sides. I see the fields stretching out before me, and here and there a farmer busy at work. As I mark how the leaves of the hedge were nipped by last night's frost, a rabbit suddenly leaps from under my feet, and I wish for my gun as he fairly flies away from me. Surely," you will say, "you will admit that I am conscious of these things." Are you ? Put the question to yourself. Ask yourself if you know that these things exist so absolutely that doubt is an impossibility. Do you like hunting? If so, I am sure you have dreamed of standing behind a trusty pointer, gun in hand, ready to take the first quail that made its appearance above the weeds. And while you are in the midst of your excitement you awake perhaps to find that you have neither dog nor gun — to find that you have been hunting only in a dream. " What of it ? " you ask. This : A certainty quite as great as — indeed indistinguishable from — your waking certainties proved untrustworthy ; may not your waking certainties be unreliable ? You will not, of course, imagine that I doubt that I see and hear the various things which I seem to see and hear, or that IOO WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF? I am trying to make you doubt them. I am simply trying to show that you do not know them with the same absolute certainty that you do the mental facts of your experience, and that, therefore, you are not conscious of them. Strongest Argument that we are not Conscious of External Objects. — But these arguments, conclusive as they seem to me, are not the considerations which are entitled to most weight. Simply by looking into my own mind, I know that I do not know the existence of the objects about me with the same kind and degree of cer- tainty that I do the mental facts I am conscious of, and therefore I know that I am not conscious of them. Look carefully into your experience, and you will see that the only facts which you know with absolute certainty are the facts of your own mental life. You will need no arguments to prove that you can not have absolute knowl- edge of any other individual facts — you will see that you do not so clearly as to make argument superfluous. But if you do not, permit me to ask you to hold your judgment in suspense until you have had more experience in the study of mental facts. You would take the opinion of a sailor as to the character of a distant object at sea in preference to your own, simply because of his more ex- tended experience. Inasmuch as trained psychologists, almost without exception, contend that we are not con- scious of the objects about us, I ask you to hold your judg- ment in suspense until you have studied the subject long enough to give you a right to an opinion. Not Conscious of our own Bodies. — It seems to me equally clear that we are not conscious of our own bodies. QUESTIONS. IOI A man with an amputated limb often feels pain in the amputated member, exactly as he does in any other part of the body. But he can not be conscious of the ampu- tated limb. You admit that. You admit that a man can not be conscious of a leg that has been buried for months. Well, if he seems to be conscious of the amputated mem- ber and is not, he has no reason to believe that he is con- scious of a member that is not amputated because he seems to be. I think we may conclude, therefore, that we know no other individual facts with the same kind and degree of certainty that we do the facts of which we are conscious ; and that, therefore, we are conscious of nothing else. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. i. What is the foundation of all we know and believe? 2. What is the difference between our knowledge of a necessary truth and our knowledge of a mental fact ? 3. Are you conscious of the stars? Of the objects about you? Of your own body ? 4. Give your reasons for your answers. 5. If you believe that you are not conscious of anything except mental facts, state what you regard as the strongest reason for your opinion. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Give examples of necessary truths that are beyond the grasp of a savage. 2. How do you account for the effect of looking at an object through an opera-glass ? 3. What is the difference between real pain and imaginary pain? 102 WHAT ARE WE CONSCIOUS OF f 4. » In this wonder-world a dream is Our whole life and all its changes, All we seem to be and do Is a dream and fancy too. Briefly, on this earthen ball Dreaming that we're living all." What part of these assertions do you know to be false ? 5. How do you account for the fact that a man often feels pain 'n an amputated limb ? LESSON XII. ATTENTION. Sensation and Attention. — We have seen that conscious knowledge is that knowledge which we have of those men- tal facts which we know directly. We have learned also that there are mental facts of which we are not conscious. You remember the example — a student intent upon a book and not hearing the clock strike till a moment after. What is the explanation of such facts ? The attention of the student was so fixed upon this book — his entire con- sciousness was so concentrated upon it — that there was no consciousness left for the sensation. Thus the sensations of which we are conscious depend upon attention. In his Mental Physiology, Carpenter gives some remarkable examples of this. For instance : " Before the introduction of chloroform, patients sometimes went through severe operations without giving any sign of pain, and afterwards declared that they felt none : having concentrated their thoughts, by a powerful effort of abstraction, on some subject which held them engaged throughout." "The writer has frequently begun a lecture, whilst suffering neuralgic pain so severe as to make him apprehend that he would find it impossible to proceed ; yet no sooner has he, by a determined effort, fairly launched himself into the stream of thought than he has found himself continu- ity 104 ATTENTION. ously borne along without the least distraction until the end has come, and the attention has been released ; when the pain has recurred with a force that has overmastered all resistance, making him wonder how he could have ever ceased to feel it." A similar experience in the case of Sir Walter Scott is thus recorded by his biographer: "John Ballantyne (whom Scott, while suffering under a prolonged and painful illness, employed as his amanuensis) told me that, though Scott often turned himself on his pillow with a groan of torment, he usually continued the sentence in the same breath. But when dialogue of peculiar animation was in progress, spirit seemed to triumph altogether over matter — he arose from his couch, and walked up and down the room, raising and lowering his voice, and, as it were, acting the parts. It was in this fashion that Scott produced the far greater portion of the Bride of Lammer- moor, the whole of the Legend of Montrose, and almost the whole of Ivanhoe." Perception and Attention.— What vr& perceive depends upon attention. Let a botanist and a geologist take the same walk — and the botanist will see the flowers, and the geologist the rocks, because each- sees what he attends to. The next time you take a walk go along the most familiar road in your neighborhood, and see if you can not discover something new to you — some tree or shed that has been there all the time. I have often had that expe- rience. The reason is that these unperceived objects were not attended to. Memory and Attention. — What we remember depends upon what we attend to. Have you ever thought of it? RECOLLECTION AND ATTENTION. 105 Most of our past lives is a perfect Sahara of forgetfulness — blank, bleak, barren — swallowed up in oblivion. But here and there gleam little green spots of memory, little oases in the midst of the mighty desert of the past. How is this? The things which we remember are the things which we attend to. Talk to an old man about his past life, and you will find that the events of the last year he but dimly remembers ; but when he speaks of his boy- hood, the incidents of the time crowd themselves upon him as though they had happened but yesterday. In that far-off happy time, when his heart was light and his mind was free from care, the most trivial events received a degree of attention sufficient to stamp them on his memory forever. Recollection and Attention. — What we recollect depends upon what we attend to. (Recollecting is remem- bering by an effort of will. All recollecting is remember- ing, but all remembering is not recollecting. Recollecting is a kind of remembering.) What do you do when you try to recall the name of a friend which has slipped your memory for the moment ? You think of — attend to the thought of — how he looks, of his dress, of some peculiarity in his manner, of the first letter of his name, of some place where you saw him, of something connected with him — until, by and by, his name flashes into your mind. All you did, you notice, was to attend to certain thoughts in your mind. Reasoning and Attention. — What conclusions you reach depends upon what you attend to. To Newton, sitting in his garden, the fall of an apple suggested the 106 ATTENTION. law of gravitation. Why ? Because he fixed his attention upon the resemblance between the fall of the apple from the tree and the revolution of the moon around the earth. The chief difference between the man of great reasoning powers and the ordinary man is that the former notices remote resemblances — resemblances that escape the atten- tion of the latter. Feeling and Attention. — What we feel depends upon attention. The same author already quoted from (Car- penter) gives some remarkable illustrations of this : The celebrated German mathematician, Gauss, while engaged in one of his most profound investigations, was interrupted by a servant, who told him that his wife (to whom he was known to be deeply attached, and who was suffering from a severe illness) was worse. " He seemed to hear what was said, but either he did not comprehend it or imme- diately forgot it, and went on with his work. After some little time, the servant came again to say that his mistress was much worse, and to beg that he would come to her at once ; to which he replied : ' I Will come presently.' Again he relapsed into his previous train of thought, entirely for- getting the intention he had expressed, most probably without having distinctly realized to himself the import either of the communication or of his answer to it. For not long afterwards when the servant came again and assured him that his mistress was dying, and that if he did not come immediately he would probably not find her alive, he lifted up his head and calmly replied : ' Tell her to wait until I come ' ■ — • a message he had doubtless often before sent when pressed by his wife's request for his presence while he was similarly engaged." VOLITION AND ATTENTION. 107 Volition and Attention. — What we will likewise de- pends upon attention. Suppose a boy has a lesson to get, and another boy invites him to go fishing. Will he go or will he stay and get his lesson ? That depends on what he attends to. If he allows his mind to dwell on the fun he will have, if he does not permit himself to think of the consequences of neglecting his work, he will go. But if he keeps his mind firmly fixed on the consequences ; if he vividly realizes the displeasure of his parents, the disappro- bation of his teacher, the probability of losing his place in his class, he will stay. Importance of the Part Played by Attention in our Mental Life. — This brief survey will enable us to form some idea of the importance of the part which attention plays in our mental life. I think you see that the chief difference between the educated and the uneducated man is the greater capacity of the former for close, continuous, concentrated attention. Some writers indeed have gone so far as to say that genius depends entirely on the power to concentrate the attention. Newton thought that the sole difference between himself and ordinary men consisted in his greater power of attention. This, I think, is an exaggeration. But however this may be, I think that the importance of training the attention can scarcely be over- estimated. Training of Attention. — How can we train the atten- tion of our pupils ? Precisely as we cultivate any other power of their minds — by getting them to attend. Our pupils learn to observe by observing, and to think by thinking, and to attend by attending. We never make 108 ATTENTION. the mistake of assuming that our pupils have a high degree of reasoning power when they first go to school, that they are capable of solving difficult problems in arithmetic, or understanding abstract statements in gram- mar; and it is just as absurd for us to suppose that they are capable of continuous attention, and yet we are prone to do that. "Because people are attentive when strong interest is roused " — says Edward Thring — "there is a common idea that attention is natural, and inattention a culpable fault. But the boy's mind is much like a frolicking puppy, always in motion, restless, but never in the same position two minutes together, when really awake. Naturally his body partakes of this unsettled character. Attention is a lesson to be learned, and quite as much a matter of training as any other lesson. A teacher will be saved much useless friction if he acknowledges this fact, and instead of expecting attention which he will not get, starts at once with the intention of teaching it." How can he teach it ? That question is of the utmost impor- tance for us to be able to answer. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Show (a) that the sensations of which we are conscious depend upon attention ; (6) that what we perceive depends upon attention ; (c) that what we remember depends upon attention ; (d) that what we recollect depends upon attention ; (e) that what we believe de- pends upon attention ; (f) that what we feel depends upon attention ; (,§•) that what we will depends upon attention. 2. Illustrate your answers from your own experience. 3. Illustrate the difference between remembering and recollecting. 4. How is the power of attention to be acquired ? QUESTIONS. IO9 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. "The botanist sees much in a plant; the horse-dealer in a horse ; the musician hears much in a piece of orchestral music, of whose presence in the sense-perception the layman has no idea. From the same story each hearer interprets something different; out of the same laws each party interprets its right; the same turn of battle is proclaimed by both armies as a victory ; out of the same book of nature the different readers, men and people, have gathered the most diverse things." (Volkmann.) How would you explain these facts ? 2. Account for the truth embodied in the proverb, " There are none so blind as those that wonH see." 3. Account for the use of mind in the following sentence : " I can't put my mind on anything to-day." LESSON XIII. ATTENTION. {Continued?) In the last lesson I tried to make it clear that our entire mental life is controlled by attention, in order that we may realize that the beginning of teaching is getting the atten- tion of our pupils, and that the end of education is the developing of powers of attention, and directing those powers into right channels. An inattentive mind is an absent mind ; and, as Thring remarks, a teacher " might as well stand up and solemnly set about giving a lesson to the clothes of the class, whilst the owners were playing cricket, as to the so-called class " if they were inattentive. Moreover, as the character of the mind depends upon the things it attends to and the manner in which it attends to them, evidently the object of education is to develop the power of attending to the right things in the right way. Definition of Attention. — But what is attention ? When you are reading an interesting book, you are scarcely conscious, if at all, of the sensations of pressure produced by your chair ; carriages and wagons are clattering along the street, but you do not note them ; various objects are directly before you, but you do not see them. Indeed, you are but dimly conscious of the sensations produced by the very type of the book you are reading. But the thoughts no TWO KINDS OF ATTENTION. 1 1 1 called to your mind by your book stand out clearly and conspicuously in your consciousness — every feature, as it were, sharply defined. The act of the mind by which certain facts in our experience are thus emphasized and made prominent is called attention. Attention, then, -may be defined as that act of the mind by which we bring into clear consciousness any subject or object before the mind. When you say to your pupils, " Give me your attention," you mean that you want them to stop thinking of the game they played at recess, of the book they read last night, of everything except what you are saying. 1 Two Kinds of Attention. — Making another study of our experience, we find that there are two kinds of atten- tion. You are reading a difficult and not very interesting book, when some one in the next room begins to sing your favorite song. You do your best to keep your attention on your book, but your mind wanders to the song in spite of you. Or you go to a lecture just after reading a letter that contained some very good news. You try to listen to the lecture, but the thought of the letter persists in drag- ging your mind away. In both these cases you are con- 1 " Clear consciousness may be thought as the circle of those concepts" — experiences — " upon which attention rests. Experience shows us that this circle, like the pupil of the eye, can be extended or contracted within certain rather wide limits. The greatest narrowing occurs when we con- centrate our attention upon a single object — as, for example, when we become absorbed in thought, or narrowly observe an outward phenom- enon; the greatest extension takes place when we widen the bounds of the narrow consciousness to its greatest extent, in which case there would be really no concentration of mind and no attention. It is apparent that the width of the circle is indirectly proportioned to the clearness of its single points — *'. is the product of reproductive or constructive imagination, all we have to do is to learn 260 IMAGINATION. whether or not it is a copy of a past experience. Our memories, of course, are defective, and we may be uncer- tain on that account ; but, apart from that, we need be in no doubt whatever. Applying this test, it is evident that when we learn any- thing from a book or from a friend we are exercising the constructive imagination. Reading is sometimes defined as thinking along prescribed lines ; and if we carefully examine our own minds, we shall see that all thinking is done, for the most part, through images, either of things or words. When, then, we read, we form and combine images in a certain prescribed way — in the way prescribed by the language of the author — provided we understand him. When we listen to the conversation of a friend, we evidently do the same thing. Unless, therefore, our friend or book says precisely what we ourselves have thought, and in precisely the same way, it is evident that we grasp the thoughts by means of the constructive imagination. When we find out a thing for ourselves, by the exercise of our own powers — the only other way in which we can learn anything — I think we shall see that is done through constructive imagination. A boy has a problem in arith- metic to solve. What is the first thing for him to do ? Understand it, as we say ; and this, we have just seen, he can only do through constructive imagination. When he clearly grasps the conditions stated in the problem, he asks what follows from them. He reasons that such and such a result would follow — which result is likewise imaged constructively, and so on to the end. Kepler wanted to know the shape of the path which the planets make in their journeys round the sun. He made guess after guess, each time comparing his guess with the facts, CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 26 1 until finally he was successful. This again was accom- plished through the constructive imagination, was it not ? Only by means of the constructive imagination could he form any sort of an idea of any particular planet, and each guess was an imaging of this planet pursuing a course that he had never seen it take. A child of one or two or three years listens daily to conversations between his mamma and papa. Sometimes consciously — always consciously or unconsciously — he is trying to understand them. How does he succeed in learning the meaning of so many words ? Precisely, for the most part, as Kepler discovered the shape of the planetary orbits — by making a successful hypothesis. By the time he is three he knows how to use words that apply to purely mental processes — such as know, think, believe, understand. He thinks of — forms an image of — certain mental facts which he remembers in connec- tion with certain words — brings images into a relation in which he has never experienced them, until he gets the right pair together — until he makes a successful hypothesis. Sometimes we can catch him in the very act of construc- tively ascertaining the meaning of a word. When a child of two speaks of the " skin of a book " through an act of inductive reasoning, he has concluded that the outside of everything is its skin — and this conclusion, to be a conclusion at all, must be imaged in part in his mind. Evidently, therefore, the constructive imagination is not monopolized by poets and painters and novelists. Who- ever reads, whoever listens to a conversation intelligently, whoever thinks — imagines, and imagines constructively. " There are indeed as many different kinds " — or rather cases — " of imagination as there are kinds of intellectual activity." 262 IMAGINATION. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Define imagination, image, percept. 2. What does a complete act of memory involve ? 3. State and illustrate the difference between imagination and memory. 4. Illustrate the differences in the imagination of different people. 5. State and explain the quotation from Dr. Reid. 6. What is active imagination ? Passive ? 7. What is the difference between reproductive and constructive imagination ? 8. How do we read a book intelligently, or understand a conver- sation ? 9. How does a child come to learn the meaning of words ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. What makes possible the difference between the active and passive imagination ? 2. Give examples of cases in which children used words incor- rectly, although reasoning in the same way as they did when they used other words correctly. 3. Compare the imagination of children with that of older people, and explain the difference. LESSON XXVIII. IMAGINATION. {Continued?) Scope of Constructive Imagination. — In the last lesson we saw that the imagination of popular thought differs widely from the imagination of which Psychology treats. When people in ordinary conversation speak of imagination, they mean a kind of constructive imagination — the kind that poets, painters, novelists, and musicians possess in an unusually high degree — the power of combining ideas or images furnished by reproductive imagination into new wholes, without having received suggestions as to the com- binations from any one else. But it is now plain that we, who understand the poems, paintings, and novels that are the product of the constructive imagination, exercise con- structive imagination. It does, indeed, require a higher power of it to combine images and groups of images origi- nally than to do so under guidance, so much higher that some writers would give it another name and call it the creative imagination. But if we adopt their name we need to remember that the creative imagination of a Shakespeare, a Beethoven, a Thackeray, a Raphael, does not differ in kind from that of the child who imagines himself becoming a bird. 263 264 IMAGINATION. Differences in Constructive Imagination. — This en- ables us to see why great works of art — works which are the product of a high power of constructive imagination — often wait a long time to get their proper appreciation. Talk to a child about the pleasure of study, and he will not understand you. His experience has not furnished him with the material for comprehending what you say. His idea of happiness is the possession of cake and candy in abundance, and toys without stint. A little girl, who wished to show her affection for her mamma, urged her papa to get " a wheelbarrow and a dollie " for her mamma when he went to town ; and when he came back without them she was deeply grieved. She built her notion of happiness out of the materials furnished by her own expe- rience, and had no idea that it was not valid for every one. Some great writers seem to be so superior to even their most highly cultivated contemporaries in their power of constructive imagination that the latter can not think the thoughts of the former even under their direction. Beet- hoven's Grand Symphony was unintelligible to his musical contemporaries, and Newton's Principle/, was beyond the comprehension of the best mathematicians of his time. The intuitions of Beethoven and Newton, their perception of musical and mathematical truth, were so much more vivid and profound than those of their contemporaries that the products of their constructive imagination were unin- telligible. Constructive Imagination and the Feelings. — Con- structive imagination is also very closely related to the feelings. We have already noticed two quite sharply con- trasted cases in which constructive imagination works — IMAGINATION AND BELIEF. 265 the case in which its products are controlled by the will, and that in which the will exercises no control whatever over the play of images. The products of passive imagina- tion — as we may call the latter — plainly depend upon the feelings. Tell me the character of the images that habitually pass through your mind, and I will tell you what you like. As you can tell the tastes of a gourmand by noticing what he eats, so you can determine a man's likes and dislikes by knowing the images upon which he habitually dwells. This explains the very great influence of the feelings on belief. Only so far as the facts of the world and of life get imaged in our minds do they influence belief; and those that we image are, for the most part, those that it gives us pleasure to think of — those that it gratifies some part of our emotional nature to think of. Relation between Imagination and Belief. — It follows that the exercise of the imagination may be attended with very grave intellectual results. The desire to imagine pleasant things may be stronger than the desire to imagine things that are true. All men of strong prejudices are examples of this. They are so anxious to believe a par- ticular thing — find so much pleasure in picturing it in their imagination and thinking of it as real — that they will not fairly consider the arguments that make against their favorite theory. That is the reason why strong par- tisans only read the newspapers of their own party. They do not want to read both sides of the question. They only want to see their own side strongly supported, that they may have the pleasure of dwelling upon arguments that support the conclusion they have made up their minds to believe. 266 IMAGINATION. But the constructive imagination is often exercised for the sake of the feelings. When you build air castles, what are you doing ? Exercising the constructive imagination — bringing before your mind images of what you would like to be real. Why do you do it ? Because it pleases you. That is the reason why most people are so fond of reading novels. The events which the novelist enables them to picture please them more than the prosaic realities of every-day life. Sully has a paragraph on this subject that is worthy of careful attention. " The indulgence in these pleasures of the imagination," he says, "is legitimate within certain bounds. But it is attended with dangers. A youth whose mind dwells long on the wonders of romance may grow discontented with his actual surround- ings, and so morally unfit for the work and duties of life. Or — what comes to much the same — he learns to satisfy himself with these imaginative indulgences, and so, by the habitual severance of feeling from will, gradually becomes incapable of deciding and acting — a result illustrated by the history of Coleridge and other dreamers." I read a story of a Russian lady which illustrates this. She went to the theatre, and wept freely over the imaginary suffer- ings of the hero of the tragedy ; while the knowledge that her coachman was shivering in the cold on the outside waiting for her did not cause the faintest suggestion of pity. Of course, if we read novels not merely for pleasure, but for their interpretations of life — for the light they throw upon our relations to our fellows — such a " sev- erance of feeling from will" can not follow. It is for teachers and parents to see to it that novel-reading serves its proper educational purpose — the purpose of broaden- ing and strengthening the imagination, and preparing the IMAGINATION AND ACTION. 267 will for its proper work by giving the feelings that are excited by it an active direction. Relation between Imagination and Action. — It fol- lows from all this that what we will to do often depends upon constructive imagination. Men do rash things because they do not clearly realize the consequences of their con- duct. Help a boy form the habit of clearly and fully realizing the probable consequences of his conduct — help him form the habit of realizing that the consequences of our acts depend not upon our wishes and intentions, but upon the nature of our acts — and you have gone a long way toward giving him the power and the habit of willing intelligently. This brief survey of the relation of imagination to our mental life enables us to realize what indeed a considera- tion of its nature would have enabled us to see beforehand — that the part it plays in our mental life is of the very highest importance. Not reality, but what gets repre- sented in our minds as reality — not what is, but what is imaged — affects our mental life. It is exceedingly inter- esting and instructive to note the na'fve self-importance of a child — the belief, appearing in so many forms, that the world exists for him. The stern relentlessness of nature — the stoic disregard of our desires and wishes with which she pushes on to her own ends, trampling us under foot if we but cross her path — has not got imaged in his mind. And until it does, his attitude toward the world is precisely the same as though his thoughts were true. If, indeed, it is true — and is it not ? — that all good causes depend upon the right training of the child, is it not evident what tremendous importance attaches to the right 2 68 IMAGINATION. training of the faculty that constitutes the audience-chamber in which Reality gets its only hearing ? Effects of Training the Imagination. — The accurate study of any subject is a training of the imagination, and yet there is scarcely one that does not tend to dispose the mind to be inhospitable to. the images that represent cer- tain phases of Reality. The specialist in mathematics is in danger of forgetting that not all reality is demonstrable ; hints and suggestions and probabilities, that fall short of demonstration, he is in danger of despising. The specialist in literature is in danger of thinking of the attainment of truth as altogether too easy a matter. What did Shake- speare mean ? What he — the student — finds in him. And he is in danger of being much too ready to project himself after the same fashion into the great Book of Nature, and get at the heart of her mysteries in the same easy way. The specialist in any branch of natural science is in danger of forgetting that. there are any facts except those that can be weighed and measured, or that anything is worthy of belief that can not be proved experimentally The specialist in mind is, or rather was (it is scarcely true now that so much stress is laid on Physiological Psychol- ogy), in danger of undervaluing the methods of natural science — the methods that have so completely transformed the civilization of this century. All this enables us to see that one of our great intellect- ual needs is breadth of culture, which is indeed, for the most part, but another name for that training which makes us disposed and able to give a fair hearing to all sides of Reality, and that we are in danger of missing it through too early specialization. IMAGINATION AND GEOGRAPHY. 269 Imagination and Geography. — But while the various subjects mentioned above afford scope for the cultivation of the imagination, we shall, of course, bear in mind that the subjects especially adapted to its training in the public schools are history, geography, and reading. We should prepare to teach history in part by getting a thorough comprehension of the motives of the men who played a leading part in history ; and we should endeavor to give our pupils such insight into their characters as to check the tendency to unqualified praise and blame. We should also try to give them the power to hold in their minds complex groups of facts, that they may see their relations to each other. In descriptive geography, we should try to leave in their minds definite and clear images of the coun- tries they are studying. See the kind of knowledge of Tasmania Dr. Arnold wanted : "Will you describe to me the general aspect of the country round Hobart Town ? To this day I never could meet with a description of the common face of the country about New York or Boston or Philadelphia, and therefore I have no distinct ideas of it. Is your country plain or undulating, your valleys deep or shallow, curving, or with steep sides and flat bottoms ? Are your fields large or small, parted by hedges or stone walls, with single trees about them, or patches of wood here and there ? Are there many scattered houses, and what are they built of — brick, wood, or stone ? And what are the hills and streams like — ridges or with waving summits, with plain sides or indented with combs, full of springs or dry, and what is their geology ?" Such a knowl- edge of the look of a country we want to get and give our pupds, and such knowledge can not fail to increase the power to form vivid images of things. 27O IMAGINATION. Imagination and Reading. — One of Mr. Galton's incidents will enable us to see the difference between the proper and the improper use of the imagination in reading. " I want to tell you about a boat," he said to a company one day, and, before proceeding further, he asked them to tell him what his words suggested. " One person, a young lady, said that she immediately saw the image of a rather large boat pushing off from the shore, and that it was full of ladies and gentlemen, the ladies being dressed in blue and white." It is unnecessary to say that that kind of imagination interferes with abstract thought. "Another person, who was accustomed to philosophize, said that the word ' boat ' had aroused no definite image because he had purposely held his mind in suspense." But if Mr. Galton had gone on : " The boat was a four-oared racing- boat, it was passing quickly to the left just in front of me, and the men were bending forward to take a fresh stroke," then his hearers should have formed a picture ; and the more vivid, detailed, and exact the picture, the more completely the imagination would have subserved its proper function. In the teaching of reading, then, discourage your pupils from, forming definite images corresponding to general terms, but encourage them to form exact and detailed images corresponding to particular terms. Child Study and Imagination. — But there are other suggestions that I think we should get from this study of imagination. We have seen how universally active the constructive imagination is, and yet that it depends for its materials upon the reproductive imagination. We see, therefore, from a new point of view the necessity of making a careful study of our pupils. You would not hire a man QUESTIONS. 271 to build a house without furnishing the necessary materials. Be equally reasonable with your pupils, and do not expect them to build images out of nothing. Many a little boy or girl has an utterly erroneous idea of an ocean, because the teacher has not taken pains to dwell on the experiences the images of which would have made the required activity of the constructive imagination possible. But with all the pains you may take, if you want to be sure that your pupils have performed the necessary acts of constructive imagination, there is but one way — by ques- tioning. We are constantly talking to our pupils about matters that, by long reading and reflection, have become familiar to us. First comprehended with difficulty, they have become so simple that we forget how they looked when our minds got their first glimpse of them. We can hardly realize that what is so simple to us should be diffi- cult to any one, and we never shall realize it save by ever- lasting questioning. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Summarize the conclusions reached in the last lesson. 2. Contrast the ordinary ideas of imagination with that set forth in this lesson. 3. Why is it that the works of "creative imagination" are often beyond the comprehension of the age in which they were produced ? 4. Show the influence of the feelings on constructive imagination, and of the constructive imagination on the feelings. 5. Account for strong partisanship. 6. What is " the severance of feeling from will " ? 7. Show the place and importance of imagination in our mental life. 8. What is breadth of culture, and how can it be gained ? 9. What uses should be made of the imagination in teaching his- tory, geography, and reading ? 272 IMAGINATION. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Mathematicians and musicians to-day understand with ease Newton's Principia and Beethoven's Grand Symphony j account for the fact. 2. Make a study of the minds of the children you meet for the purpose of learning (1) what they have formed images of ; and (2) to what an extent their images are due to their social surroundings, and to what an extent to the common impulses of childhood. 3. How would you try to cultivate a spirit of open-mindedness ? 4. What subject in the public school course offers the best material for this purpose ? 5. How would you try to prevent the severance of feeling from will? 6. Do persons who are " naturally suspicious " get pleasure from indulging in their suspicions, even when what they suspect is unpleasant? LESSON XXIX. CONCEPTION. What the Mind Does in Conception. — The word "dog" evidently does not mean the same as "this dog." " This dog " may be a long-haired, long-nosed, long-eared black dog, with white spots on his back ; while " dog " is the name not only of this dog, but of all dogs whatever. The same is true, of course, of all general names. All general names are names of classes — names that are applicable to every individual of the class — while particu- lar names, such as proper nouns and common nouns, lim- ited by words like " this " and " that," are names that can be applied in the same sense to but one individual. How did the mind get this power — this power to use class- names intelligently ? We never see a class ; x we only see individuals. Classes do not make themselves known to us through any of the senses. How, then, does the mind form an idea of a class ? To answer that question is to state what the mind does in conception, for conception is that act of the mind by which it forms an idea of a class, or that act of the mind that enables us to use general names intelligently. 1 It is, of course, understood that I am using the word " class " to denote an indefinite number of individuals that resemble each other in certain particulars. 273 274 CONCEPTION. First Step towards a Knowledge of Things. — We have seen that our mental life begins with unclassified, unknown, indefinite, undifferenced sensations — that the first step towards a knowledge of things consists in the transformation of what we can only describe as vague feeling into definite sensations of this and that character. I say the first step. We must be careful to note that this transformation is not finished ; a child does not become conscious of definite sensations of sound and taste before it begins to take the second step — before it begins to localize its sensations. We must think of this transforma- tion not as an instantaneous process, but as a gradual change. A change in the direction of decreasing indefi- niteness in sensations is undoubtedly the first change in the direction of knowledge of things, or, indeed, of any knowledge whatever. But before any sensation has the definite character our sensations now have when we attend to them, the child begins to take the second step — it begins to localize its sensations. Second and Third Steps. — But here again we must note that this feeling of place may have very different degrees of definiteness. Even in our mature experiences we are sometimes conscious of sensations of pain without being able to locate them precisely, as when we have the toothache and do not know exactly which tooth aches. This process of localization, then, is at first a vague feeling of whereness ; and before this vague feeling becomes a knowl- edge of a definite place — before the second step towards a knowledge of things has been fully taken — the third begins; the child's sensations are beginning to be grouped together and regarded as qualities of external objects. KNOWLEDGE OF INDIVIDUALS. 275 In What does the Knowledge of Individuals Con- sist ? — Let us suppose the three steps taken ; let us suppose that a child has come to know a long-haired, long- nosed, long-eared black dog, with white spots on his back, to such an extent that, when asked where the dog is, he looks at him, and says " dog " when he sees him, as soon as he begins to talk. In what does this knowledge con- sist ? In the fact that he has associated certain sensations of color with certain sensations of touch — - those which he has received from running his hand over the dog — and both these with the name " dog." This is how it happens that when he sees or feels the dog he thinks of the name, and that when he hears the name he thinks of the dog. The sensations of color and touch, and the name "dog," have become so tied together by association by contiguity that one always brings the other to his mind. But now we need to remember that the pair so tied together is, strictly speaking, not one pair at all, but an indefinite number of pairs more or less closely resembling each other. No matter who says " dog," whether papa, or mamma, or brother, or sister, or nurse, whether the word is pronounced in a high or low tone of voice, whether the speaker is one foot or ten feet away, the child thinks of "dog." But the sensation of sound in each of these cases is different. No matter where he sees the dog, whether in-doors or out ; no matter what the dog is doing, whether eating or drinking, walking, running, standing, or lying down, the child recognizes him — thinks of his name. But the sensation of color in each of these cases is different. This looks like general knowledge to begin with. We are trying to learn how the mind forms general ideas — how it gains the power 276 CONCEPTION. to use general names intelligently. It looks as though it exercises this power even in knowing individual objects. The spoken word " dog " is itself the name of a large class of sounds ; for, as we have seen, it is not only a different sound in the mouth of every different speaker, but in no two cases do they exactly resemble each other. The sen- sations of color, also, received from the dog are not the same sensations, but an indefinitely large class of more or less closely resembling sensations. The child, then, in recognizing the word " dog " whenever he hears it, and the sensations of color received from the dog whenever he sees him, seems to perform a mental act very much like recognizing any dog whenever he sees him ; but that implies a knowledge of the class "dog" — implies, in a word, the exercise of the very power of conception we are trying to explain. What does the Child Know First ? — But are we not mistaken ? Students of mind, from Aristotle down, - have noticed that when a child begins to talk it calls all men "papa" indiscriminately. What is the explanation of this? It must be either that the child perceives the resemblance between other men and his papa, and applies the same name to them because of their resemblance — knowing, nevertheless, that they are different individuals — or thai he confuses every man with his papa, because he sees no difference between them. If we accept the latter, we- must say with Sir William Hamilton, that " in the mouths of children language at first expresses neither the precisely general nor the determinately individual, but the vague and confused" and that this vague and confused idea, modified in one direction, becomes the definite knowledge REASONS. 277 of an individual ; modified in another, the definite knowl- edge of a class. " Papa," for example, would not mean to a child his own father, neither would it be the name of a class perceived to consist of different individuals, but the name applied to resembling individuals not known to be different. In discussing this question, we must try to get at the heart of the matter ; we must try to separate what is merely accidental and incidental from what is essential. What is the essential fact maintained ? It is that the first knowledge which children have of the persons and things about them is not of persons and known things to be defi- nite individuals, but of persons and things confused with each other, because of their resemblances. This may be true, and the contention of Aristotle and of many students of mind since his time — that children call all men "papa," for example, indiscriminately — may be false. Children begin to talk at quite different stages of their development. If the theory is true, we may expect, therefore, to see evi- dences of this confusion in the language of some children when they begin to talk, and not in that of others. Reasons. — I believe that the first knowledge of children is of this character : (1) because the mind perceives resem- blances more easily than differences. I know two brothers whom at first I could scarcely tell apart ; now, I see that they are so unlike that it is hard to realize that I should ever have confused them. What is the explanation ? At first I saw resemblances only; not until I had seen them often did I note the differences between them. Children's minds evidently work the same way. Ducks, geese, swans are all ducks to them. And we may expect them to show 278 CONCEPTION, as much less power in perceiving differences than we possess as their minds are less developed than ours. (2) There are cases in which children unquestionably con- fuse different individuals, one of whom they know well, because of their resemblances. Perez tells the following story of a child of thirteen months : "As one of his cousins was like his uncle, having the same sort of beard, and the same kind of figure and voice, the child treated him at once as an old acquaintance. He called him Toto (the name he had given to his uncle). . . . Seeing a pencil in his cousin's hand, he took it from him, put it in his mouth, and made with his lips the movements and sounds of a man who is smoking and puffing his smoke in the air. His uncle used to smoke. When he got down from the table he said, 'lou, lou, lou, lou,' in a tone of entreaty. This was explained to the cousin as signifying that he was to imitate the dog as his uncle was in the habit of doing to the child's great delight. Out in the garden the child made another request, which his cousin did not under- stand, much to the . astonishment of the former, who was accustomed to being instantly obeyed by his uncle. . . . His cousin, having been coached up in his part, humored, as far as possible, all the habits which his uncle had made necessary to the child ; but some he replaced by ways of his own ; and the end of it was, that after being with his cousin three weeks the child afterwards expected from his uncle all the gestures, tones of voice, games, indulgences, and acts of obedience which the new Toto had accustomed him to." What Makes the Perception of Individuals Possible? — Such facts seem to show that the first knowledge of QUESTIONS. 279 children is neither of individuals nor of classes. Not of individuals, because the child has only noted resemblances between things, or between the same thing seen at dif- ferent times. But the perception of individuals is impos- sible without the perception of differences. Two men with exactly similar beard, same complexion, of the same size — exactly similar in every respect, and occupying the same position — would not be two men, but one. Two men also who seemed to be exactly alike in every respect would be regarded as the same person, however unlike they might be. Also, the first knowledge of children is not of classes, because, until they know individuals, they can not know classes, since a class means and is nothing but a collection of individuals resembling each other in certain particulars. But their first ideas of things are vague, confused ideas of resemblances between things not known to be different. To avoid circumlocution, we will call this idea a class-image. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1 . Trace the progress of the mind from indefinite sensations to the knowledge of external objects. 2. What kind of knowledge do children first gain of external objects ? 3. Justify your answer. 4. State the case reported by Perez. What does it prove? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Report any cases similar to the one reported by Perez, that have come under your observation. 2. Have you noticed children calling other men " papa," and if so, did you notice whether they seemed to look upon them as strangers, or 28p CONCEPTION. whether their manner towards them was the same as towards their own papa ? 3. Can you prove by your observation of children that they perceive resemblances more easily than differences ? 4. Can you prove by your own experience that you do the same thing? LESSON XXX. CONCEPTION. {Continued.) Steps towards the Knowledge of Concepts. — Since a knowledge of class-images antecedes a knowledge of individuals, to explain conception we have first to explain how the knowledge of class-images externalized as things becomes a knowledge of definite individuals. Evidently the various steps or stages that mark the progress of the mind from those undifferentiated, indefinite sensations with which our mental life began to the formation of con- cepts are (i) the knowledge of class-images externalized as things ; (2) the knowledge of individuals ; and (3) the formation of concepts. How a Knowledge of Class-Images Becomes a Knowl- edge of Individuals. — To see how the knowledge of class-images externalized as things becomes the knowledge of individuals, we must study our own experiences. Why did I confuse the two brothers mentioned in the last lesson ? Because I saw no differences between them. It seems hard to realize that a child can see no difference between a large man with a full beard and a small one with none. But our powers of perceiving both resemblances and differences are much greater than a child's ; and if I 281 282 CONCEPTION. could confuse two people whom I now see to be very unlike, we shall be able to realize that a child may see two very different things without being able to observe any difference between them. How did I finally gain the power to tell them apart ? By withdrawing my attention from them as wholes and fixing it upon individual features — size, color of eyes, and the like. In precisely similar ways the child gains the power to distinguish individuals. And here we can see why it is so hard for him to acquire it. It is easy for you to withdraw your attention from objects as wholes and fix it upon parts or qualities, but it is very hard for a child. The individual features are there, but he does not see them because he does not attend to them. But little by little he gains the power to fix his attention upon individual features, and as he acquires it he gains a knowledge of individuals. What Differences are First Noted? — When a child distinguishes individuals because he notes some of the differences between them, it is easy to see that he will first note only the most striking differences. The first difference that he notes between a big black dog and a small white one is probably a difference in color. The class-image of dog has become, on the one hand, the per- ception of individual dogs. Seeing no difference between them except in color, and noticing that they are both called dogs, he drops out of his class-image of dog the element of color, and associates what is left with the name " dog " whenever he hears it. What is left of the class- image when the element of color is dropped out of it is a rudimentary concept, and the act of mind by which it is reached is conception. STEPS IN FORMING A CONCEPT. 283 Steps in Forming a Concept. — Let us observe closely the steps that led from the percept of the individual to the concept of the class. The first step taken by the child towards the formation of the concept consisted in fixing his attention upon both dogs, or upon one dog and an image of the other at the same time. Let us call this first step comparison. The second consisted in withdrawing his attention from the point of unlikeness — color — and fixing it upon their points of likeness. Precisely as an essential step towards a knowledge of individuals consists in withdrawing the attention from the objects as wholes and fixing it upon individual parts or features, so an essen- tial step towards a formation of concepts consists in with- drawing the attention from the points in which the objects compared are seen to be unlike, and fixing it upon those in which they are seen to be like. Let us call this step abstraction. The third step consisted in applying the name "dog" to all other objects having the same charac- teristics — in making the name general by making it the name of a class. Let us call this generalization. These three acts of the mind, then — comparison, or the fixing of the attention upon two or more objects at the same time ; abstraction, or withdrawing it from some of their unlike' nesses and putting it upon some of their likenesses ; gen- eralization, or the making of a name general by making it the name of all the individuals possessing similar qualities — are the three acts that constitute conception. Concepts Liable to Change. — We see at once that the concept — the product of conception — is liable to constant change. The only difference that the child first observes between the two dogs is. a difference in color. As he 284 CONCEPTION. observes them more and more carefully he notices more and more differences — the word "dog" means a smaller and smaller number of attributes. And when he hears the name applied to other animals he naturally puts them in the same class, and the meaning of "dog" is correspond- ingly reduced, although each separate act of abstraction is followed by an act of generalization — the extending of the name so reduced in meaning to all objects having the common characteristics he has observed. But while a more careful and a wider observation of dogs in this way reduces the concept, it may enlarge it in another way. The child may notice points of resemblance before unobserved. In this way his concept is made to include more attributes — the class-name comes to have a richer meaning. Definition of Concept. — From the point of view we have now reached we can see with some definiteness what a concept is. It was said above that a concept is the product of conception, and that conception is that act of the mind which enables us to use general names intel- ligently. This amounts to saying that we have a concept of a class when we can use the class-name intelligently, but as to what a concept is — we are left entirely in the dark. If we carefully look into our minds when we hear or use a general term which we understand, I think we shall find either no mental picture whatever corresponding to it, or else a mental picture with the feeling that a great many other mental pictures would serve the purpose just as well. When any one speaks of "dogs," for example, in my hear- ing, I shall probably not form a mental picture of any dog VOLUNTARY AND INVOLUNTARY CONCEPTS. 285 whatever. As I hear the word, a feeling of familiarity arises in my mind, a feeling that I know what is meant, and this feeling, attaching itself to the word, constitutes my entire conceptual consciousness, so far as that case is concerned. But if I do form a picture of some particular dog, I do it with the feeling that the picture of any other dog would do as well. In that event, this picture with the accompanying feeling constitutes my entire conceptual consciousness. Voluntary and Involuntary Concepts. — The attention that results in comparison and abstraction may be either voluntary or involuntary, and therefore concepts may be formed voluntarily or involuntarily. We know from our study of attention that the concepts that a child forms in the first years of his life will, for the most part, be formed involuntarily because he is not able to give much voluntary attention. How to Make Inaccurate Concepts Accurate. — Of course, concepts formed in this by-rule-of-thumb manner are indistinct and inaccurate. They are sure to contain attributes that careful observation would exclude, and not to include others that such observation would bring to light. But we must remember that it is exactly this kind of concepts that constitutes the furniture of a child's mind when he first starts to school. To transform these indistinct and inaccurate concepts into those that are distinct and accurate — to enlarge the number of concepts — is evi- dently an important part of education. We shall be able to do this more intelligently if we remember not only the manner in which they are formed, 286 CONCEPTION. but the condition upon which their formation depends. That condition is the perception of resemblances between different individuals. Until resemblances are perceived, no concept of the resembling objects can be formed. That is why a child finds it so hard to understand the meaning of numbers. Four horses, four cats, four toys, etc., re- semble each other in being four, but they seem to the young child to have nothing in common — and therefore he does not know what you mean when you call them all fours. Not till his mind is able to detach the fact common to them all will he be able to understand you. Qne of my students recently told me of a pupil to whom he could not teach numbers. The child was eight years old, and after persistent efforts to learn the significance of numbers would say, when asked how many cows there were in the field, seven or nine, for example, when she should have said three. The difficulty in such cases is that the child has not formed the concept of numbers, the child has not seen that three dogs resemble three blackboards in one par- ticular — in the particular of being three. Until this resemblance is clearly seen, the attempt to teach the names of numbers must be utterly unavailing. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Make a careful summary of the last lesson. 2. Define class -image. What is meant by "externalized as things "? 3. What is the first thing to be done in explaining conception, and why? 4. How does a child come to know individual persons and things ? 5. State and explain the two directions in which the class-image is modified. QUESTIONS. 287 6. State and explain the three processes involved in conception. 7. What is the difference between percept, image, and concept? 8. In what two ways are concepts formed ? 9. What kind of concepts has a child when he first starts to school ? 10. Upon what condition does the formation of concepts depend ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. At what age do children generally begin to understand the meaning of numbers ? 2. Why is it desirable to use a variety of objects — sticks, straws, grains of corn, etc. — in teaching children to count ? 3. Does this lesson throw any light on the question as to the proper age for taking up the study of grammar ? LESSON XXXI. CONCEPTION. (Continued?) We saw in the last lesson that involuntary concepts are almost certain to be indistinct and inaccurate, and that when children first start to school, unless they have been carefully instructed at home, nearly all their concepts are of this kind. They have observed the objects they see about them closely enough to learn their names, and talk about them with a certain degree of intelligence. Because they can apply their names correctly, teachers are in great danger of thinking that the corresponding concepts are all that they need to be. But that is a mistake. Words do not Convey Thoughts. — "While an external object may be viewed by thousands in common," said Professor S. S. Green, " the idea or image of it addresses itself only to the individual consciousness. My idea or image of it is mine alone — the reward of careless observa- tion, if imperfect; of attentive, careful, and varied obser- vation, if correct. Between mine and yours a great gulf is fixed. No man can pass from mine to yours, or from yours to mine. Neither in any proper sense of the term can mine be conveyed to you. Words do not convey thoughts ; they are not the vehicles of thoughts in any 288 WHAT LANGUAGE DOES. 289 true sense of that term. A word is simply a com- mon symbol which each associates with his own idea or image. What Language Does. — "Neither can I compare mine with yours except through the mediation of external ob- jects. And then how now do I know that they are alike ; that a measure called a foot, for instance, seems as long to you as to me ? My idea of a new object which you and I observe together may be very imperfect. By it I may attribute to the object what does not belong to it, take from it what does, distort its form, or otherwise pervert it. Suppose, now, at the time of observation we agree upon a word as a sign or symbol for the object or the idea of it. The object is withdrawn ; the idea only remains — imper- fect, in my case ; complete and vivid in yours. The sign is employed. Does it bring back the original object ? By no means. Does it convey my idea to your mind ? Nothing of the kind ; you would be disgusted with the shapeless image. Does it convey yours to me ? No ; I should be delighted at the sight. What does it effect ? It becomes the occasion for each to call up his own image. Does each now contemplate the same thing ? What multitudes of dissimilar images instantly spring up at the announce- ment of the same symbol ! — dissimilar not because of anything in the one source whence they are derived, but because of either an inattentive and imperfect observation of that source, or of some constitutional or habitual defect in the use of the perceptive faculty." How Inaccurate Concepts can be Made Accurate. — What, then, can we do to make these involuntary, and 29O CONCEPTION. therefore indistinct and inaccurate, concepts distinct and accurate ? When a child starts to school, he attaches a meaning to near, far, narrow, and many similar words, but his concept of them is based entirely on his own observations, and is therefore very inaccurate. He has heard his parents talk about narrow ribbons, narrow boards, and the like, and if his teacher, without further illustration, tells him that an isthmus is a narrow neck of land, he will be sure to misunderstand her. Shall we seek to make his concepts accurate by definitions ? No ; for he can not understand our definitions unless he has accurate concepts corresponding to the words we use. We must get him to follow the path that leads to accurate concepts ; we must get him to compare a large enough variety of near and narrow objects to enable him to apprehend the one com- mon quality that such objects possess — we must get him to compare, abstract, and generalize. Select Particulars Showing the Extreme Varieties. — But while it is necessary for us to bring the mind of our pupil into contact with particulars in order to make his concepts accurate, the very necessity of doing it shows the need of exercising care as to the kind of particulars you select. Why is a child's concept of narrow inaccurate? Because he has considered only certain kinds of narrow things — narrow ribbons, narrow paths, narrow planks, and the like. A young man told me that until he was eight years old he thought all rivers were like the one near his home. We see, therefore, the necessity of selecting par- ticulars that show all the extreme varieties} 1 See Bain's Education as a Science, p. 92, PROMINENCE TO THE MAIN IDEA. 29I Those that Give Prominence to the Main Idea. — Begin also with particulars that give prominence to the main idea. If you are teaching your pupils what an island is, call their attention first to an island far from the main- land, in order that the characteristic quality of an island may be brought out prominently. Select your particulars also solely with reference to the end in view. Do not select such as have an interest in themselves, because they attract the attention to features that are not included in the concept — features, therefore, that you wish the child to ignore. Finally, stick to your purpose until it is accomplished. Accumulate particular after particular until the desired concept is formed, allowing yourself to be tempted into no digression whatever. Of course we should pursue the same method in developing new concepts. Two Purposes Served by Language. — But in most cases our pupils have no names for the new concepts we help them to form until we give them. When should we give them ? Evidently not until they need them. Lan- guage serves two purposes. In the first place, it enables us to preserve the results of our own thinking. When we have performed these processes of comparison, abstraction, and generalization — when we have formed a concept — if we did not give it a name, there would be nothing to fix it in our minds. When we associate a name with the con- cept, the name enables us to recall it without repeating the processes of comparison, abstraction, and generaliza- tion that in the first place enabled us to form it. But we have no use for general names to assist us in fixing con- cepts in our minds until we have formed the concepts of 292 CONCEPTION. which they are names. When we consider the other use of language, we are led to the same conclusion. The other use of language, of course, is to communicate ideas. As we have already seen, no such thing, strictly speaking, is possible. What you do when you are said to communicate ideas is to occasion your hearer or reader to recall ideas and make combinations of ideas similar to those in your own mind. This you are able to do by using a sign or symbol with which he has associated the same idea you have in your mind. Evidently, then, language can not be used to communicate ideas, or rather to occasion the re- calling of ideas, until you have yourself associated a sign or symbol with the idea you wish recalled, and until your hearer has formed the same association. Hence the absurdity of teaching words without ideas. Words are like paper money; their value depends on what they stand for. As you would be none the richer for pos- sessing Confederate money to the amount of a million of dollars, so your pupils would be none the wiser for being able to repeat book after book by heart unless the words were the signs of ideas in their minds. Words without ideas are an irredeemable paper currency. The Blind Use of Words the Fundamental Error. — It is the practical recognition of this truth that has revolu- tionized the best schools of the country in the last quarter of a century. Pestalozzi well called the blind use of words in matters of instruction the "fundamental error." He was not the first educational reformer who insisted .on it. Montaigne, Comenius, Locke, Rousseau, had all in- sisted on the same idea, but they were in advance of their time ; the world was not ready to listen to them. But in PESTALOZZI S REFORM. 293 1 806, after Prussia was thoroughly beaten by Napoleon at the battle of Jena ; when her capital city was in the hands of her conqueror, and she lay humiliated at his feet, it occurred to some of her leading men that the regeneration of the nation was to be sought in education. In this way it happened that the ideas of Pestalozzi were em- bodied in the schools of Germany, whence they have gone into the schools of every civilized country in the world. 1 Pestalozzi's Reform. — In what did the reform inau- gurated by Pestalozzi consist ? In the substitution of the intelligent for the blind use of words. He reversed the educational engine. 2 Before his time, teachers expected their pupils to go from words to ideas ; he taught them to go from ideas to words. He brought out the fact upon which I have been insisting — that words are utterly powerless to create ideas ; that all they can do is to help the pupil to recall and combine ideas already formed. With Pestalozzi, therefore, and with those who have been imbued with his theories, the important matter is the form- ing of clear and definite ideas. 1 It is to me a very interesting fact that Pestalozzi went to Paris early in this century in order to try to induce Napoleon to reform the educa- tional system of France in accordance with his ideas. Napoleon said he had no time to bother his head with questions of ABC. Prussia took the time, and the result was that when Prussia and France met again on the field of battle nearly seventy years later, the soldiers of Prussia, educated in accordance with Pestalozzi's ideas, completely routed the armies of France. 2 When I wrote this sentence I did not know that Pestalozzi had used a similar illustration: "The public common-school coach . . . must not simply be better horsed, ... it must be turned round and brought on an entirely new road." 294 CONCEPTION. Object Lessons. — But how can such ideas be formed * By comparison, abstraction, and generalization, and by combining concepts so formed into complex concepts. That is why Pestalozzian teachers have made so much use of object lessons. Realizing that the only way the mind can form ideas of objects is by comparing them, then ab- stracting some quality, then generalizing, they have given systematic courses of Object Lessons in order that they might develop clear and definite concepts of objects in the minds of their pupils. But systematic object teaching is not the only, or indeed the chief, way of teaching in harmony with this law of the mind. Object teaching — bringing the mind of the pupil into direct contact with the object out-of-doors, if possible, if not, in-doors — will be the method chiefly employed by intelligent primary teachers, because the great intellectual need of young children is clear and definite concepts of objects. Since all our concepts are either simple or com- plex, and since, of course, simple concepts must precede complex concepts, evidently the first step in education should consist in furnishing the mind with a stock of simple concepts. And since the mind of a child is for the most part employed with objects, since his interests lead him to direct his attention to the external world, plainly the thing to be done is to give him simple concepts of objects. But whatever the subject of thought, in order to get its simple concepts the mind must take the same path, pursue the same course, compare, abstract, generalize. Objective Method of Teaching. — Whatever the nature of the facts studied, whether objects that can be brought into the recitation room, or those that are physically in- QUESTIONS. 295 accessible, or facts that can not be correctly described as objects, such as the facts of history, mental facts, mathe- matical facts, the intelligent teacher will lead his pupils to begin with an examination and comparison of them, then go on to note their resemblances and differences, then to make generalizations, unless he is sure that they have a stock of perfectly definite, simple concepts, by the com- bination of which they can form the complex concepts he desires. Such a method of teaching has well been called the Objective Method or Objective Teaching, since it is an application of the method of teaching by Object Lessons to every department of instruction. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Make a careful summary of the two preceding lessons. 2. What are the two uses of language ? 3. In what Sense can we communicate ideas ? 4. How can we make indistinct and inaccurate concepts distinct and accurate ? 5. What kind of particulars should we select, and why ? 6. In what did the reform inaugurated by Pestalozzi consist ? 7. What is the difference between object and objective teaching? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. What is the difference between simple and complex concepts? 2. Strictly speaking, can we have simple concepts of objects ? 3. Mention as many distinct and accurate concepts that a child of six is likely to have, as you can think of. 4. What differences would you expect to find between the con- cepts of a child who has lived in the country, and those of a child who has lived in a city ? J. Talk with a child of six and endeavor to ascertain his concept of sky, star, sun, moon, and other objects inaccessible to him, that he hears mentioned in daily conversation. LESSON XXXII. CONCEPTION. {Continued.) What the Objective Method Is. — The great importance of the Objective Method of teaching inclines me to think that it will be well for us to. spend a little more time in making an effort to get a thorough comprehension of it — such a comprehension as will enable us to use it from day to day. To this end, I venture to quote further from Professor S. S. Green. " The Objective Method," he says, "is that which takes into account the whole realm of Nature and Art so far as the child has examined it, assumes as known only what the child knows — not what the teacher knows — and works from the well known to the obscurely known, and so onward and upward until the learner can enter the fields of science or abstract thought. It is that which develops the abstract from the concrete — which develops the idea, then gives the term. It is that which appeals to the intelligence of the child, and that through the senses until clear and vivid concepts are formed, and then uses these concepts as something real and vital. It is that which follows Nature's order — the thing, the concept, the word ; so that when this order is reversed — the word, the concept, the thing — the chain of connection shall not be broken. The word shall instantly occasion the concept, and the concept shall be 296 THE OBJECTIVE METHOD ILLUSTRATED. 297 accompanied with the firm conviction of a corresponding external reality. It is that which insists upon something besides mere empty verbal expressions in every school exercise — in other words, expression and thought in place of expression and no thought. " It is that which makes the school a place where the child comes in contact with realities just such as appeal to his common sense, as when he roamed at pleasure in the fields, and not a place for irksome idleness. It is that which relieves a child's task only by making it intelligible and possible, not by taking the burden from him. It bids him examine for himself, discriminate for himself, and express for himself — the teacher, the while, standing by to give hints and suggestions, not to relieve the labor. In short, it is that which addresses itself directly to the eye external or internal, which summons to its aid things present or things absent, things past or things to come, and bids them yield the lessons which they infold — which deals with actual existence and not with empty dreams — a living realism and not a fossil dogmatism. The Objective Method Illustrated. — " It will aid any teacher in correcting dogmatic tendencies by enlivening his lessons and giving zest to his instructions. He will draw from the heavens above and from the earth beneath, or from the waters under the earth, from the world with- out and the world within. He will not measure his lessons by pages, nor progress by fluency of utterance. He will dwell in living thought, surrounded by living thinkers, leaving at every point the impress of an objective and a subjective reality. To him, an exercise in geography will not be a stupid verbatim recitation of descriptive para- 298 CONCEPTION. graphs, but a stretching out of the mental vision to see in living picture, ocean and continent, mountain and valley, river and lake, not on a level plain, but rounded up to con- form to the curvature of a vast globe. The description of a prairie on fire, by the aid of the imagination, will be wrought up into a brilliant object lesson. A reading-lesson descriptive of a thunder-storm on Mt. Washington will be something more than a mere conformity to the rules of the elocutionist. It will be accompanied by a concept wrought into the child's mind, outstripped in grandeur only by the scene itself. The mind's eye will see the old mountain itself with its surroundings of gorge and cliff, of wood-land and barren rock, of deep ravine and craggy peak. It will see the majestic thunder-cloud moving up, with its snow-white summits resting on wall as black as midnight darkness. The ear will almost hear the peals of muttering thunder as they reverberate from hill to hill." This long extract is worth all the study we can find time to. put into it. The thorough comprehension and the practical appreciation of it will revolutionize our methods of teaching as completely as have been the methods of teaching in the best schools of the country in the last twenty-five years. But there are two or three sentences in it that are especially worthy of attention. Professor Green says that the Objective Method appeals to the intel- ligence of the child through the senses until clear and vivid concepts are formed, and then uses these concepts as something real and vital. What does he mean ? Real and Vital Concepts. — I said in the last lesson that whatever the nature of the facts studied, whether objects that can be brought into the recitation room, such REAL AND VITAL CONCEPTS. 299 as coal, glass, water, and the like, or those that are phys- ically inaccessible, such as are studied in geography or astronomy, or facts which can not be correctly described as objects, such as mental facts, historical facts, and the like, the Objective Method of teaching leads the pupil to begin with an examination of the facts ; instead of begin- ning with inferences about the facts, it puts the pupil face to face with the facts, and leads him to make his own in- ferences. How is that possible when we are not dealing with objects in the immediate presence of the pupil ? When we are dealing with facts or objects that our pupils can not observe for themselves, we must develop in their minds, as nearly as we can, the same vivid ideas that would result from a careful observation of the reality.. That is what Professor Green means in the sentence to which I have called your attention. A concept so vivid as to be something real and vital, is a concept that can be used in forming complex concepts of things only a little less vivid than would result from a first-hand observation of the reality. He means the same thing when he says that the Objective Method takes into account the whole realm of Nature and Art so far as the child has examined it ; assumes as known only what the child knows — not what the teacher knows. For so long as the teacher keeps within the range of the child's knowledge, the teacher presents simple concepts that the child can combine into complex concepts, which enable him clearly and vividly to realize facts and realities which are beyond the range of his observation, but which he can use in comparing, ab- stracting, and generalizing, as though he had seen them for himself. When Professor Green says that the Objective Method 300 CONCEPTION. addresses itself to the eye, external or internal, he means to call attention to the fact that there are realities which can not be cognized by the senses, such as mental facts, but which, nevertheless, are to be studied in the same way. First the Reality and then the Play of the Mind about the Reality. — This lesson enables us to see that one of the favorite doctrines of current pedagogy — first the idea, then the word — is inaccurate. In primary in- struction it does indeed state with great accuracy the proper method of proceeding for the most part. But even here the teacher must sometimes violate it. No primary teacher can always confine himself to objects that have sometimes been within the range of the pupil's observa- tion. He must sometimes take concepts formed from actual observation and build out of them concepts of realr ities that the pupil has never seen. A more accurate statement is, first the reality — the thing you wish your pupil to study — then the play of the mind about the reality. I use the somewhat indefinite phrase, " play of the mind," because a more definite expression would not be sufficiently comprehensive. In some cases, what you want from your pupils is not primarily intellectual action, or action of the knowing side of the mind at all. You wish to bring their minds face to face with a certain reality in order to excite the appropriate feelings. That, for instance, would be your object in teaching such a reading- lesson as the one described by Professor Green. The same is true, for the most part, in all teaching of litera- ture. You wish to get the thoughts and sentiments of the piece in the minds of your pupils in order that they REALITY AND PLAY OF MIND ON REALITY. 3OI may have the proper feelings — appreciation, admiration, and the like. In such cases in the maxim : First the reality, and then the play of the mind about the reality — • "the play of the mind" means, for the most part, a certain activity of the emotional side of the mind. But even when the play of the mind you seek to occa- sion is a certain activity of the intellect, the kinds of intel- lectual activity that the Objective Method aims at are so different in different circumstances that any very definite term will not accurately describe them. The play of the mind desired may be the formation of a concept — say the concept of roundness. In that case the reality consists of round objects. You call the attention of the child to round objects in order that he may fix his attention upon their shape, neglecting all their other qualities. Or the play of the mind desired may be the making of a definition — say a definition of roundness. Here the reality is his own concept of roundness ; the play of the mind desired is the accurate description of that concept. Or the play of the mind wanted may be a description of a process — say the formulation of a rule in arithmetic. Here there are two sets of realities : ( 1 ) The conditions stated in the problem. You bring them clearly before his mind, in order that he may see for himself the path he must take in order to reach the solution. (2) Having solved the problem, you want him to describe the process, and this is the second reality. You want him to fix his mind upon it so attentively that he can give an accurate description of it. In the following example the play of the mind desired is an inference from a fact. Your class learns from you or a book — so far as the Objective Method is concerned 302 CONCEPTION. it makes no difference which — that the Constitution of the United States forbade Congress to pass any law pro- hibiting the importation of slaves prior to 1 808, and then that Congress passed such laws in 1 808 — just as soon as the Constitution made it possible for them to do it — unanimously. You ask your class what they infer from that. They will be likely to say that it indicates that Congress wanted to do all it could to limit slavery. With- out saying whether they are mistaken or not, you go on and tell them of the penalty Congress affixed to the viola- tion of the law, and then call their attention to the fact that, although the law was constantly violated and every- body knew it, this penalty was very rarely inflicted, and then ask what that signifies. Here the reality is an historical fact, and the play of the. mind about the reality that you are seeking to occasion is an inference based on the reality. Why we may Fail to Apply the Objective Method. — If we have the clearest possible comprehension of the Objective Method, we may fail in our attempts to apply it, because we try to bring the minds of our pupils into con- tact with realities which they can not comprehend — try, in other words, to bring their minds into contact with realities with which they can not be brought into contact in their state of development. You could not give a blind boy an object lesson based on the sense of sight. No more can you intelligently use the Objective Method when the realities are beyond the range of your pupil's com- prehension. And here we see another reason for making a careful study of our pupils : that we may learn what realities they can comprehend. IIERBARTIAN STEPS. 303 The Objective Method and the Herbartian Steps. — You have doubtless noticed the resemblance between the Objective Method, as I have here defined it, and the essen- tial steps or stages in method as the Herbartians define them. But while they make four and sometimes five steps, I have noted but two. As will appear in the discussion of apperception, I agree with them in thinking a stage of "preparation" important. It is, as I shall endeavor to show, a very helpful means of getting "reality" before the mind of the pupil. Dr. De Garmo's term, " generaliza- tion," to denote what I have called "play of the mind," I object to, because it seems to imply that the action of your pupil's mind which you wish to occasion is in all cases intellectual, which is certainly not the case. I omit their final stage, application, not because it is not im- portant, when it can be taken, but in many cases it can not be taken. Can you apply a feeling of admiration or appreciation as you can a definition, or a law or a principle to the cases that come under it ? To illustrate : Take any poem, say, Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Why will you teach it ? Do you want your pupils to infer from it some law or general principle which they can apply to their own observations and experiences ? Or do you want the thoughts and feelings which the poet thought and felt to pass through their minds, in order that they may feel their beauty ? The latter, I am sure, and such a feeling can not be applied. The very idea is absurd. 1 1 It doubtless has not escaped the attention of my careful readers that the Objective Method is based in part on laws of the mind which we have not yet considered. Those laws, however, are so generally known that I thought it would conduce to clearness to assume that they would be known, and discuss the Objective Method in connection with object teaching, which is but a single application of it. 304 CONCEPTION. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1 . Give a general description of the Objective Method. 2. What does Professor Green mean by "real and vital concepts " ? 3. Illustrate at length the formula, "first the reality, and then the play of the mind about the reality." 4. For what formula is it proposed as a substitute, and why ? 5. Why may we fail in our attempts to apply the Objective Method ? ' 6. Illustrate your answer from your own experience. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Is there any contradiction between the quotation made from Professor Green in this lesson and the one in the last? 2. Take any poem in your reading-books, and decide to what extent the fourth of the Herbartian steps should be taken. LESSON XXXIII. JUDGMENT. Summary of Mental Steps up to the Formation of Concepts. — We have seen that our mental life begins with undifferentiated sensations ; that the first step towards knowledge consists in their gradual transformation into defi- nite sensations; that while they are thus being made definite they begin to be localized ; that before they are definitely localized they begin to be gathered together in groups and thought of as qualities of objects ; that in the first stage of the perception of objects, only their prominent, salient features — those in which small classes resemble each other — are perceived, and that, therefore, individuals are confused with each other, not perceived as individuals; that the state of mind that results from the confusion of individuals — the class-image — gradually changes into two very unlike things, a percept and a concept ; that, on the one hand, it becomes a percept through the definite per- ception of differences ; on the other, a concept through the perception of resemblances between individuals per- ceived to be individual. Through the greater part of these experiences the mind has been active in a way to which, so far, we have paid no attention. When we study so complex a thing as the human mind, we have to study its various phases or activi- 3°S 306 JUDGMENT. ties in succession ; but we must remember that what we study successively exists contemporaneously. Act of Judgment Illustrated. — We shall get a clearer idea of the activity of which I speak if we consider it first in a simple and very common form. I see a man coming down the street. At first I am uncertain whether it is John Smith or his brother. But as I look at him closely I notice a scar on his right cheek, just under his eye, and then I remember that John Smith once received a severe wound there. Immediately my mind passes from its state of doubt into a state of certainty; I say, That man is John Smith. We may then denote the activity which we wish to study in a similar manner to that in which we denoted the activity of conception. As we said that conception is the activity of the mind that enables us to use general names intelligently, so we may say that judgment is the activity of the mind which is expressed in propositions. Judgment is Sometimes Made Possible by the Laws of Association. — Manifestly such an act of the mind is rendered possible by the laws of association. Through the laws of association I thought of the name of John Smith and of his brother. But there is a wide difference between the final act of my mind and the simple result of the laws of association, As long as my mental state is due entirely to the laws of association, I have a percept and two images in mind — the percept of the man before me, and the images of John Smith and his brother; but when I see the scar — when I am no longer in doubt — the percept and the image of John Smith are fused into one, and, WHY THE JUDGMENT WAS CONSCIOUS. 2°7 expressing this, I say, This man is John Smith. Such a mental act is called a judgment, and the words in which we express it are called a proposition. Why the Judgment was Conscious. — If I had known the man was John Smith as soon as I saw him, it is evi- dent that there would have been no conscious assertion expressed, or capable of being expressed, by the words, That man is John Smith. There was a conscious asser- tion, because there was, so to speak, a vacillation on the part of my percept. It stood midway between my image of John Smith and my image of his brother. Because I was conscious of this vacillation, I was conscious of my uncertainty, or rather in this vacillation my uncertainty consisted. But if, as soon as I had seen John Smith, the image of him as seen before had coalesced or fused with my percept, the act would have been so automatic that I should not have been conscious of it. You can prove the truth of this by your own experience. As you went to school this morning, did you say or think to yourself, That is a tree, That is a house, That is a cow, as you passed these several objects ? No, you merely recognized them — knew them directly — and were con- scious of no mental assertion whatever. But suppose the cow had been wrapped in a buffalo robe, so as to look unlike any animal you had ever seen before. At a first glance you would not have recognized it. There would have been the same vacillation between your percept and the competing images that we have already observed in my experience. But when you had seen through the dis- guise, all but one of the competing images would have vanished ; you would have performed a conscious mental 308 JUDGMENT. act that can only be described by a proposition — That is a cow. When Conscious Judgments First Appear. — We can now see at what point in our mental life this conscious act first appeared. We have seen that a complete act of memory consists of retention, reproduction, recognition, and localization, and that memory begins to develop before imagination. Evidently, therefore, the mind recognizes things before it forms images of them when they are absent. Now this conscious act, which we have called judgment, first appears when there is an object before the mind of which it has a percept, and when the mind is uncertain to which of two images to refer it. If a child, familiar with oranges, sees a lemon for the first time, he at once classes it as an orange because of their likeness — there is no conscious act of judgment. But if he is familiar with both and the names of both, when he sees an orange at a little distance, by the law of association by similarity he may think of both an orange and a lemon — the image of both may arise in his mind — and his percept may vacillate between the two. When he gets nearer, and notices the peculiar shape and color of the object, he says, That is an orange. Evidently such a conscious act is not possible until the imagination is so far developed that two or more images arise in the mind in connection with the same percept, which the mind is not able to refer to either. What Judgments Relate to. — If we examine the three judgments we have considered — expressed in the proposi- tions, That is John Smith, That is a cow, That is an DIFFERENT KINDS OF REALITY. 309 orange — we shall see that they consist in the fusion or coalescence of two states of consciousness — a percept and an image in the first, a percept and a concept in the second and third. We need to note (1) that this fusion or coalescence is the way our thoughts sometimes behave when we pass from a state of doubt to a state of belief ; (2) that although it is thoughts or states of consciousness that coalesce, the belief does not relate to states of con- sciousness, but to some kind of reality} We do not say, " My percept of that object fuses with my idea of John Smith " ; nor, " My percept of that object fuses with my concept of cow " ; nor, " My percept of that object fuses with my concept of orange." Though beliefs or judgments are rendered possible by states of consciousness, and though we may describe the states of consciousness in which judg- ments or beliefs consist, judgments do not, as a rule, relate to states of consciousness, but always to some kind of reality. Different Kinds of Reality Asserted. — The reality may be the reality of external nature, as when I say, That is an orange. Or the reality of literature. Thousands of books have been written upon the question of Hamlet's insanity. If I say he was insane, my proposition expresses a belief about a reality in literature. Or the reality of mythology. A student of the classics, on the way to recitation, is running over his lesson in his mind. He asks himself, How did Minerva originate? He is in doubt. Suddenly something brings the forgotten fact to his mind. He remembers that she sprang from the head of Jupiter. His memory is an assertion of a reality in mythology. Or 1 See Baldwin's Psychology, p. 286. 310 JUDGMENT. it may be a reality of mental facts. I say, The concept man and the concept rational animal are one and the same. Here the reality asserted is a certain relation between mental facts. Nature of Act of Judgment. — If we examine what takes place in our minds when we perform the judgment expressed by the proposition, Minerva sprang from the head of Jove, we shall see that there is no such fusion or coalescence between the thoughts that stand for the sub- ject and predicate as takes place when we judge That is John Smith. The reason plainly is because of the dif- ference in the things asserted. In the last case we assert identity. I see that the individual before me has all the characteristics of John Smith, because he is John Smith. In the first, we make an assertion about the origin of Minerva ; we say not that she is, but that she sprang from, the head of Jove. So when I say, I dreamed last night, I make a still different assertion — I assert a different kind of fact. But no matter what we assert, we shall find, in the period of doubt that preceded the assertion, no fixed relations between the thoughts or concepts or states of mind that represent the various parts of the proposition that we finally assert. "I don't know whether that is John Smith or his brother." As long as I am in un- certainty, my percept tends now towards the image of John Smith, now towards that of his brother, according to my estimate of probabilities. When I pass from a state of doubt to a state of certainty, my percept assumes a definite and fixed relation towards the image of John Smith. "I don't remember whether Minerva sprang from the head of Jupiter or the head of Apollo." Here again there is QUESTIONS. 311 the same lack of definiteness and fixedness in the relations between the thoughts expressed by Minerva, sprang from, head of Jupiter, head of Apollo. But when I say : " I re- member now — she sprang from the head of Jupiter," this lack of definiteness disappears ; they are transformed into a new whole, or rather the first three are, each of them sustaining a definite and fixed relation towards the rest — ■ a relation which they resume whenever I think of them, unless my belief changes. Judgment Defined. — We see, then, not only that a judgment is that act of the mind which is expressed in a proposition, but we see what the act is. It is the mental assertion of some kind of reality — the transformation or relating of separate units or elements of thought into one whole, in which each sustains definite and fixed relations to the rest. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. State and illustrate what judgment is. 2. When do we make unconscious assertions, and why ? 3. Under what circumstances do these unconscious assertions become conscious? 4. State and illustrate the various kinds of reality to which our judgments refer. 5. State and illustrate the difference (1) between the mere associa- tion of ideas and judgment, (2) between doubt and belief. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. State the various causes to which, in your opinion, judgments are due. 2. Show that judgments could never have originated from the mere association of ideas. LESSON XXXIV. JUDGMENT. (Continued.) Difference between Association of Ideas and Judg- ment. — I said in the last lesson that there is a wide difference between the mere association of ideas and judg- ment. There is hardly an assertion in this book which it is of greater importance for you to verify at great length by a study of your own experience than this. Take proposition after proposition and make clear to yourself the difference between merely associating the subject and predicate in your mind, and thinking them in the relation of a judgment. Suppose, for example, you should have a conversation with a man from the moon, and should explain to him the meaning of water, quench, and thirst, without showing him the relations which these facts actually bear to each other. When he thinks of the three at the same time, they have only a mechanical connection in his mind — the same kind of connection that exists in the mind of a child between the thought of a Chinaman and the thought of a steam-engine when the child thinks of the two at the same time because he first saw them together. But when you think of them together, you assert a real relation between the facts water and thirst — they are no longer mechani- 313 ESSENCE OF AN ACT OF JUDGMENT. 313 cally juxtaposed, but parts of one logical whole, you think them in the relation of a judgment. Take also the proposition, " Napoleon conquered Europe." Do you not see the difference between merely thinking about " Napoleon," " conquered," and " Europe " at the same time, and thinking the judgment, " Napoleon con- quered Europe " ? The first might be possible through the association of ideas alone. Essence of an Act of Judgment. — There is a conscious mental assertion only when this act of logical relating for some reason becomes a matter of attention. You say, That is a cow, only after you have been in doubt as to what animal you are looking at, or when you see it in some unexpected place, as in a public park. Some psychologists confine the term judgment to these conscious assertions of the mind. Assertions made unconsciously they refuse to call judgments, simply because they are made uncon- sciously. But assuredly those psychologists take the sounder position who hold that whenever thoughts assume that fixed and definite relation we have seen they have in a judgment, whenever they become parts of a logical whole, there is an act of judgment, whether the act is conscious or not. -. The essence of an act of judgment con- sists in this logical relating of thoughts. To refuse to call it a judgment because it takes place so rapidly and unobtrusively as to escape the eye of consciousness is to use language in a way that does not conduce to clearness of thinking. Implicit and Explicit Judgments. — We may, indeed, properly enough mark the distinction between them by 314 JUDGMENT. putting them into different classes. We may call the judgments made unconsciously, implicit, and those made consciously, explicit. Evidently the mind made implicit judgments when it contemplated what we have called class-images. Evidently, also, when the consciousness of a class-image becomes the perception of an individual thing, the judgment is still implicit. And as every modifi- cation of a class-image in the direction of an individual is an act of implicit judgment, so every modification of a concept is an act of explicit judgment. If the first con- cept that the child makes of a rose is not of a rose as a rose, but as a plant, it is the result of an act of judgment — This is a plant. When he modifies his concept so as to make it include some of the attributes of a flower, this modification is still the work of a judgment — This plant is a flower. When he modifies it still further to make it include some of the attributes of roses, and then of that variety of roses called La France, it is still the work of judgment — This flower is a rose, this rose is a La France. In a word, the formation of a concept and each step in its subsequent modification is the work of the mind as judgment. Different Kinds of Judgments. — Explicit judgments are usually classified according to the propositions used to express them. "This man is a lawyer," a categorical proposition, is said to express a categorical judgment. "This man is either a lawyer or a doctor," a disjunctive proposition, is said to express a disjunctive judgment. " If this man is a lawyer, he is not a doctor," a conditional proposition, is said to express a conditional judgment. But we can not ascertain the character of a judgment by DIFFERENT KINDS OF JUDGMENTS. 315 examining the proposition used to express it. A categori- cal judgment is one in which the predicate is asserted of the subject absolutely and unconditionally. Now, a cate- gorical proposition may be the expression of that kind of a judgment, and it may not be. One man says, The sun will rise to-morrow morning, and his proposition expresses a categorical judgment — the possibility even that the sun will not rise has scarcely occurred to him. An astronomer says the same thing, but mentally qualifies his assertion — If nothing happens to the earth or the sun to prevent it. A metaphysician mentally qualifies the same assertion with the condition — If things behave in the future as they have done in the past} The last two use a categori- cal proposition to express a conditional judgment. So, likewise, a conditional proposition may be used to express a categorical judgment. I say — If he is a lawyer, he is not a doctor. I mean, Men do not practice law and medi- cine at the same time, which is a categorical judgment. A child says, If I do not cry, mamma will give me candy — meaning simply that she will get the candy if she does not cry, and therefore her conditional proposition expresses a conditional judgment. When we make a judgment about an entire class, our judgment is universal ; when about a part of a class, it is particular. All trees have branches, is a proposition ex- pressing a judgment about the entire class of trees ; it is, therefore, universal. Some trees are green in winter, is a proposition expressing a judgment about a part of a class ; it is, therefore, particular. Affirmative judgments are those in which something is affirmed ; negative, those in which something is denied. 1 See Lesson VI, also Baldwin's Psychology. 316 JUDGMENT. Judgments and Processes of Reasoning. — The com- mon opinion is that the beliefs (judgments) of men — excepting those that we have called necessary truths and necessary beliefs — are based on processes of reasoning. Nothing can be more erroneous. Children's Judgments. — The credulity of children is proverbial; but if we get our facts at first hand, if we study "the living, learning, playing child," we shall see that he is quite as remarkable for incredulity as for credu- lity. The explanation is simple : He tends to believe the first suggestion that comes into his mind, no matter from what source; and since his belief is not the result of any rational process, he can not be made to disbelieve it in any rational way. Hence it happens that he is very credulous in reference to any matter about which he has no ideas ; but let the idea once get possession of his mind, and he is quite as remarkable for incredulity as before for credulity. A father was showing his little girl — three years old — a cistern, and she was looking at it with great interest, when she suddenly drew back, and cried out, in a frightened tone, "Oh, papa, you are going to put me in there ! " and no amount of persuasion would induce her to consent to look at it again, although the father had never threatened her with any kind of physical punishment, and there was absolutely nothing in her experience which would serve as a reason for her belief. The explanation is that the idea occurred to her, and its mere presence in her mind was a sufficient cause for belief. The same child got in a passion of fear because her father playfully remarked, one day when he had a caller, that she must stay with him to keep the man from hurting him. Not anticipating any JUDGMENTS OF UNEDUCATED MEN. 317 such effect from his remark, he tried to soothe her by assuring her that it was not so, that he was only playing ; but all to no purpose. She did not believe it because he said it — because of her trust in him — and therefore she would not disbelieve it when he said it was not so. Study your " elementary text-book," and you will find abundant illustrations of this truth : that belief about everything that comes within the range of a child's ex- perience antedates reason ; that what reason does, for the most part, in the early years of a child's life, is to cause him to abandon beliefs that are plainly at variance with experience. Judgments of Uneducated Men. — If we study the larger child — the man with a child's mind — an un- educated man — we shall have the same truth forced upon us. If the beliefs of men were due to processes of reason- ing, where they have not reasoned they would not believe. But do we find it so ? Is it not true that the men who have the most positive opinions on the largest variety of subjects — so far as they have ever heard of them — are precisely those who have the least right to them ? Socrates, we remember, was counted the wisest man in Athens, because he alone resisted his natural tendency to believe in the absence of evidence ; he alone would not delude himself with the conceit of knowledge without the reality ; and it would scarcely be too much to say that the intel- lectual strength of men is in inverse proportion to the number of things they are absolutely certain of. If this be true, it is hard to overestimate the importance of the work that education should do in this direction. How to make men believe what is true, how to keep them from 318 JUDGMENT. believing what is false, how to keep them from having opinions upon matters in reference to which their study and investigation, or rather the lack of both, give them no right to an opinion, is surely a question of the very greatest importance. 1 Manifestly the way to answer it is to bring up the rational side of the mind, to develop it and train it so that it may be strong enough to cope with the believing — judging — propensities of the mind. What we can do in this direction, therefore, it will be proper for us to discuss after we have made a study of reasoning. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. i . Make a careful summary of the preceding lesson. 2. What is the essence of an act of judgment ? 3. State and illustrate the difference between explicit and implicit judgments. 4. What are the first implicit judgments ? 5. How are concepts successively modified so as to include a larger and larger number of attributes ? 1 I do not, of course, mean to intimate that we should have no opinions about matters that we have not personally investigated. We take and ought to take the opinion of some men about law, and others about medicine, and others about particular sciences, and so on. But we should clearly realize the difference between holding an opinion on trust and hold- ing it as the result of our own investigations. If we do, we shall see we have no right to an opinion at all — on trust — where there is a decided difference of opinion among specialists. If all I know about the appear- ance of a thing I have learned from the reports of two men, and if these are directly opposed to each other on all the essential points, then plainly I know nothing about it. In like manner, if I take my conclusions from specialists — as I must to be reasonable, when I have not studied the matter — then, when they disagree widely, there is no reason why I should take the opinion of one rather than another. I have, therefore, in such a case, no right to an opinion. QUESTIONS. 319 6. State the difference between categorical, disjunctive and hypo- thetical judgments. 7. Show that we can not tell the character of a judgment by examining the proposition used to express it. 8. Show that children often believe things because of the mere presence of ideas in their minds. 9. What are necessary truths and necessary beliefs ? 10. In what did the wisdom of Socrates consist? 1 1 . What lesson does this teach us ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Why is it important for us to believe what is true ? 2. Have you observed beliefs in children that you could only explain by the theory stated in the text ? 3. Have you observed a difference in children in this respect? Do some appear more ready to believe without reason than others ? LESSON XXXV. REASONING. Hoffding on Children's Judgments. — We saw in the last lesson that children tend to believe the first suggestion that comes into their minds, no matter from what source. Some psychologists go much farther than this. Hoffding, for instance, says : " It must be with dawning conscious- ness as with dream consciousness — all that offers is at first taken for current coin," 1 since to such a conscious- ness there is no ground for a distinction between the world of possibility and the world of fact and reality. This argument is that, from the very nature of the mind, it follows that, in the beginning of its mental life, a child must accept its ideas or suggestions as true. 2 But we 1 Outlines of Psychology, p. 131. a That acute critic and profound student of human nature, Walter Bagehot, wrote a suggestive paragraph on this point : " In true meta- physics, I believe that, contrary to common opinion, unbelief far oftener needs a reason and requires an effort than belief. Naturally, and if man were made according to the pattern of the logicians, he would say : ' When I see a valid argument, I will believe ; and till I see such argument, I will not believe.' But, in fact, every idea vividly before us soon appears to us to be true, unless we keep our perceptions of the arguments which prove it untrue, and voluntarily coerce our minds to remember its falsehood. 1 All clear ideas are true,' was for ages a philosophical maxim ; and though no maxim can be more unsound, none can be more exactly conformable to 320 CHILDREN S REASONING. 32 I have here nothing to do with such a priori reasoning. Our business is to make a patient study of facts; to care- fully observe children, in order that we may learn whether there is a tendency to believe as true every suggestion that enters their minds ; and if so, to what extent. But here, as always, we must guard against the propensity which, as we have seen, is such an active principle of human nature — the disposition to let our beliefs run clean out of sight of the facts upon which they are based, and assert a universal conclusion upon the basis of a few observations of two or three children. Knowing the influ- ence of feeling on belief, one would naturally suppose that children would be more likely to show the tendency in reference to matters that excite their feelings. So far as my observations go, they tend to confirm the truth of this supposition. We should expect also that children of a decidedly emotional temperament would be more likely to show it than those of a quieter temperament. But plainly we have no right to an opinion on this point until we have observed a large number of children, or until we have care- fully studied the results of competent observers. Children's Reasoning. — But the child very soon begins to form judgments that we can put into quite a different class. When he sees a train coming, and runs into the house because he is afraid of it, his judgment, The train will hurt me if I stay in the yard, is the result of the ordinary human nature. The child resolutely accepts every idea which passes through its brain as true ; it has no distinct conception of an idea which is strong, bright, and permanent, but which is false too. The mere presentation of an idea, unless we are careful about it, or unless there is within some unusual resistance, makes us believe it." 32 2 REASONING. mere presence of the suggestion in his mind. The sugges- tion, of course, is due to the association of ideas ; the belief, however, is due, as we have just seen, to quite another cause. But when a child, who was burned by his soup yesterday, refuses to touch it to-day because he sees it smoking, his judgment, The soup will burn me if I put it in my moutk, is probably not to be explained in the same way. He does, of course, think of the possible burn because of the association of ideas, but he believes it because of a process that might be roughly described as follows : Yesterday's soup smoked and burned me ; therefore to-day's soup, which smokes also, will bum me. He makes a judgment about past experience the ground of a judgment about future experience ; he goes from the known to the unknown. A little boy once made the direct assertion, " Snow is sugar ; for snow is white, and so is sugar." 1 Because snow and sugar are both white, he concluded that they are the same. Reasoning Defined. — Let us see if we can find any judgment to serve as a basis or reason for the first one. Does the child think, The train will hurt me if I stay in the yard because other trains have hurt me there f or because mamma told me it would hurt me if I stayed there ? No. He does not base the judgment on any- thing; he assumes it. He does not go from the known to the unknown ; he assumes the unknown. His belief is not mediate — reached through other beliefs — but imme- diate. Now, the process of basing judgments on judg- ments — of reaching beliefs through beliefs — is called reasoning. Reasoning, then, is the act of going from the 1 See Hoff ding's Psychology, p. 132. REASONING OR ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 323 known to the unknown through other beliefs, of basing judgments on judgments, reaching beliefs through beliefs. Difficulty of Determining whether an Action is the Result of Reasoning or of the Association of Ideas. — It is often impossible to tell whether a given action has been performed as the result of a mere process of associa- tion, or of a genuine reasoning process. Take the case just mentioned of the child who refuses to touch smoking soup because he was burned yesterday. I have explained his action as due to a reasoning process. But is any other explanation possible ? Certainly. It is altogether possible that the perception of the smoking soup to-day makes him think of the soup of yesterday, and that, of the pain he experienced, and that this thought of the pain causes him to refrain from eating soup to-day all through merely mechanical association. If his mental processes were as I described them above, then he reasoned. But if his action is due to mechanical association alone, we can not describe his mental processes as consisting of a succession of related judgments, but of unrelated percepts and ideas which would have been judgments if they had been brought into certain definite relations with each other. "Yester- day's soup smoked and burned ; therefore to-day's soup, which smokes also, will burn me" — may be regarded as a rough description of his mental process if he reasons. But if he does not reason, percept of to-day's soup, thought of yesterday's soup, yesterday's pain — these one after the other without being brought into judgments — may be the elements in consciousness which precede his action. Even if he believes that the soup will burn him to-day — because of his experience yesterday, but not because he sees any 324 REASONING. connection between the two, his mental process is not a case of reasoning. If he says, Smoking soup burned me yesterday, smoking soup will burn me to-day — if these two propositions accurately and completely express his conscious processes, he does not reason. But if he says or thinks, Smoking soup burned me yesterday, therefore it will burn me to-day, the action of his mind exhibits the distinctive characteristics of the reasoning process : he believes one proposition on the ground of another ; he makes one proposition a reason for believing another. A Story about Ants. — Such considerations put us in a position to form an intelligent opinion of some of the wonderful stories reported of animal intelligence. Take the story about ants which Romanes reports on the author- ity of an English clergyman : " I have noticed in one of my formicaria a subterranean cemetery, where I have seen some ants burying their dead by placing earth above them. One ant was evidently much affected, and tried to exhume the bodies ; but the united exertions of the yellow sextons were more than sufficient for the disconsolate mourner." The Action Explained. — In considering such an in- cident the first thing to do is to disentangle the facts from the snarl of inferences. What then are the facts, the observed facts ? That the body of a dead ant was covered up, and that another ant tried to prevent it. Is there anything about this which requires to be explained as a reasoning process ? By no means. Ants have a habit of removing anything that is in their way, and this habit — which is probably entirely due to instinct — explains their so-called burial of the dead ant. As to the grief of the A STORY OF A DOG. 325 disconsolate mourner — how did the observer happen to learn the signs of grief in ants ? I know when you are grieved. Why ? Because you manifest it in the same way that I do — by the expression of your countenance, and so on. Did the countenance of the ant take on a sorrowful expression ? Plainly the grief of the ant was an inference, and a gratuitous one at that. Granted that the ant at- tempted to prevent the so-called burial : did he do it because he was grieved or for some cause with which we are entirely unacquainted ? The latter is surely the more reasonable supposition. A Story of a Dog. — Professor James reports an incident of animal intelligence which would at once be set down by careless observers as a case of reasoning. "A friend of the writer gave as a proof of the almost human intelligence of his dog that he took him one day down to his boat on the shore, but found the boat full of dirt and water. He remembered that the sponge was up at the house a third of a mile distant ; but, disliking to go back himself, he made various gestures of wiping out the boat, and so forth, saying to his terrier, ' Sponge, sponge, go fetch the sponge.' But he had little expectation of a result since the dog had never received the slightest training with the boat or the sponge. Nevertheless, off he trotted to the house, and, to his owner's great surprise and admiration, brought the sponge in his jaws." The Action Explained. — Was this a case of reasoning? Not necessarily. The probabilities are that the owner's gestures and language suggested the sponge by mechanical association.. If, as Professor James says, he had been un- 326 REASONING. able to find the sponge, and had brought back a mop or a dipper it would have been clearly a case of reasoning. His actions in that case would have been due to a perception of the relation between the dipper and the use to which it was to be put — to the perception of the fact that for his owner's purpose dipper and sponge were the same thing. Such a perception could not be explained as consisting of mechanical association. Reasoning from Particular to Particular. — If we examine our minds to see the course they take in the reasonings of every-day life, we shall find that we generally reason from some particular fact to some particular fact. You are going to take a train at half-past eleven, and you, must give yourself ten minutes to go to the depot. You look at your watch ; the hands indicate that it is fifteen minutes past eleven. Remembering that it was five min- utes slow yesterday, you hurry off at once. Why ? Because you believe it is twenty minutes past eleven, since your watch was five minutes slow yesterday. Because your watch was five minutes slow yesterday, you believe it is five min- utes slow to-day ; you reason from a particular fact to a particular fact. As you go out of the gate you notice threatening clouds in the west. You go back and get your umbrella, as you think it is likely to rain. From the par- ticular judgment, The clouds look thtis and so, you go directly to the particular judgment, It is likely to rain. Deductive and Inductive Reasoning. — But suppose, in either case, I dispute your inference ; suppose I say that it is only fifteen minutes past eleven, or that it is not likely to rain. You seek to justify your conclusion ; you QUESTIONS. 327 fix your attention on the considerations that seem to you to prove it. You say, I have found by long experience that my watch is reliable, and since it was five minutes slow yesterday, I know that it is five minutes slow to-day. Or, you point to such and such characteristics of the clouds, and say, Clouds that look that way threaten rain. In the first case you seek to justify your inference from your con- clusion by appealing to particular facts ; in the second, by appealing to a universal proposition. Now that illustrates the difference between deductive and inductive reasoning. In either deductive or inductive reasoning the mind may start from particular facts. But when the mind retraces its steps in order to find the proof of its conclusion, it may find it either in a general proposition, or in particular propositions. In the first case the reasoning is called deductive; in the second, inductive. Deductive and in- ductive reasoning, then, are not so much two kinds of reasoning as two modes of proof — two modes of exhibit- ing to ourselves or others the grounds of inferences already drawn. When we prove a conclusion by a general pro- position, the reasoning is called deductive ; when by par- ticular propositions, it is called inductive. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What is a priori reasoning? 2. By what a priori reasoning does Hoffding seek to show that children first hold all their ideas to be true ? 3. Illustrate the difference between such judgments and reasoning. 4. What is the difference between inference and proof? 5. State and define and illustrate the two kinds of proof, 328 REASONING. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. A child heard a servant say that a certain musical instrument was a harp ; her mother afterwards told her that it was an harmonica, but she insisted that it was a harp. Explain it. 2. Give examples of the various cases of reasoning that have come under your observation during the day, and determine whether they are inductive or deductive. LESSON XXXVI. REASONING. (Continued.) Difference between Inductive and Deductive Reason- ing. — We saw in the last lesson that the difference between deductive and inductive reasoning is rather a difference in the method of proving conclusions already inferred than a difference in the method of inferring them ; that when we appeal to a universal proposition to prove our conclusion, the reasoning is called deductive ; induc- tive when we appeal to one or more particular propo- sitions. Why does the same Method of Reasoning sometimes Lead to a True, and sometimes to a False Conclusion ? — But how is that I am able to find the proof of a fact in particular propositions ? When you say, " I know that this is a Mardchal Niel because I know that all the roses that have the characteristics of this rose are Marshal Niels," if I disagree with you it is because I do not believe your premise. Admitting your premise, that all the roses that have the characteristics of this rose are Marechal Niels, I must admit your conclusion. But when the child argues, " Sugar is white, snow is white, therefore snow is sugar," I admit his premises, but deny his conclusion. But when he argues, " This and that and the other unsupported 329 330 REASONING. bodies have fallen ; this stone is an unsupported body, therefore it will fall," I admit the truth of his conclusion. In both cases he argues from true particular propositions. We have to inquire ( I ) how he came to choose those par- ticulars in order to prove his conclusion ; and (2) how it happened that apparently the same method led, in one case, to a false conclusion ; in the other, to a true one. We Base Affirmative Conclusions on Likenesses, but never on Differences. — I think we shall see how to answer the first question if we ask ourselves if a child can believe that snow is sugar because the one is white and the other sweet. We know that he can not. We know that children — human beings in general — reason from observed likenesses to unobserved likenesses, but never from differences to affirmative conclusions. We know that the child argued that snow is sugar because snow and sugar resemble each other in being white — because they belong to the class of white objects. The proof, in a word, that snow is sugar he found in the fact that both are white. He took one white thing — sugar — to be the type of all white things — judged implicitly that all white things are sugar. He argued, then, that snow is sugar because it is one of the class of white things, all of which are sugar. He selects the particular propositions, This unsupported object has fallen, That unsupported object has fallen, etc., to prove that the stone will fall if it is unsupported, for the same reason. Can he believe that a stone will fall because a robin flies, and a geranium bears blossoms, and a maple puts forth leaves in spring-time ? Certainly not. These facts and the one he believes do not resemble each LIKENESSES, BUT NOT DIFFERENCES. 33 1 other — are not members of a class. He believes that an unsupported stone will fall, on the ground that this and that and the other body have done so, because he takes this, that, and the other body as types of the class. He has made a class of unsupported bodies, and has judged that those he has observed are examples of the entire class. When, then, he reasons that the stone will fall if unsup- ported, because this and that and the other body have done so, he really reasons that it will do so because all unsup- ported bodies will do so. We see, then, that there is no essential difference between inductive and deductive reasoning. When I prove a particular fact by other par- ticular facts, I do so because they are members of the same class as the one about which I am trying to prove something, and because I have already, explicitly or im- plicitly, reached a conclusion about the entire class. When a universal judgment is consciously appealed to, the reason- ing is deductive ; when it is unconsciously appealed to, it is said to be inductive ; and that is the sole difference between deductive and inductive reasoning. I say, " I am going to die sometime." You ask, "Why?" "Because all men are mortal." There I appeal consciously to a universal proposition. If I reply, " Because this and that and the other man have died," I certainly appeal, per- haps unconsciously, to a universal proposition, since it is only because this and that and the other individual and I are members of the same class that what has happened to them throws any light on what is likely to happen to me. We see, then, that we appeal to certain particular propositions to prove a fact, because they are included in a universal judgment that we have made. 332 REASONING. All Inductive Reasoning is Deductive Reasoning. — Now, we see why the same kind of reasoning sometimes leads to a true conclusion and sometimes to one that is false. All inductive reasoning, is deductive reasoning. When the universal implied by the particulars is false, the conclusion based upon it will be false. All white things are not sugar. Hence it is a mistake to say that snow is sugar because it is white. All unsupported bodies will fall. Hence I am justified in concluding that this stone will, because this and that and the other bodies have done so when I take them to be types of the class. The proof in deductive reasoning may always be thrown into the following form called a syllogism : {Major premise?) All white things are sugar ; {Minor premise?) Snow is a white thing ; {Conclusion?) Therefore, snow is sugar. Why Able Men so often Differ. — We see here very plainly again that an act of reasoning may be altogether correct as a process, and yet lead to a false conclusion, because one of the premises is incorrect. That enables us to see why able men so often differ with each other ; they start from different premises. Take the great differences you find between men in matters of politics, science — every department of thought — and you will often find that they rest at bottom on the fact that those who differ started from different major premises. A physicist or physiologist, for example, is very likely to believe that nothing can cause a change in matter but matter. If so, he is almost certain to be a materialist, since the changes in the body that we usually attribute to consciousness, he will attribute to the brain. His reasoning may be thrown WHY ABLE MEN SO OFTEN DIFFER. 333 into the form of a syllogism : Nothing can cause a change in matter but matter. But consciousness is not matter. Therefore, consciousness can not cause a change in the body. A psychologist, on the other hand, may assume that nothing can have the characteristics that the mind has without having some of the attributes of a substance. If so, he will not be a materialist. His reasoning may be thrown into the following syllogism : Nothing can have such characteristics as the mind has without being a sub- stance. But the mind can not be a substance if mental facts are mere phenomena of the brain. Therefore mental facts are not mere phenomena of the brain. One man says, "All measures that tend to promote home production are beneficial. A protective tariff does this ; therefore a protective tariff is beneficial." Another says, "Undoubt- edly your conclusion is true if your major premise is, but I deny your major premise. I hold that what promotes the interests of individuals promotes the interests of na- tions." Here we have an argument leading to a conclu- sion that directly contradicts the first, because it starts from a major premise that contradicts the major premise of the first argument. Compare the argument of Ex- Speaker Reed in the North American Review, January, 1 890, with the reply of Senator Carlisle — the former defending the rules of the House of Representatives that had just been adopted by the Republican majority, the latter severely criticising them. Reed reasons substantially as follows: Whatever rules are necessary to enable the House to transact business are wise ; the rules adopted by the Republicans are necessary to enable the House to transact business; therefore they are wise. Carlisle, on the other hand, reasons substantially as follows : Whatever 334 REASONING. rules enable the Speaker of the House to exercise arbitrary and tyrannical power are unwise ; the rules just adopted by the House enable the Speaker to exercise arbitrary and tyrannical power ; therefore they are unwise. Why Able Men Start from Different Premises. — If you ask how it happens that able men so often start from different premises, you ask a difficult question. One reason undoubtedly is, that the imagination, as we have seen, is the sole audience chamber in which Reality gets a hear- ing. If for any reason we do not image certain aspects or phases of Reality, they are for us as though they did not exist. The great majority of the facts to which the phys- icist habitually gives his attention are so well explained by his assumption, that it comes finally to seem like an abso- lute certainty^ — precisely as we are inclined to think it absolutely certain that things will behave in the future as they have done in the past. When he occasionally thinks of facts that seem to contradict his assumption, he refuses to believe them. That which is absolutely true can not be contradicted, however it may seem to be. Sometimes we refuse, more or less consciously, to consider but one side of a question. If we are interested in supporting a particular conclusion, it often happens that we will not look at the other side Members of debating societies generally come to believe that their side is right, whatever they thought at the start. They are looking for arguments on but one side, and they see no others. The Republicans in the House all voted for the Republican rules in 1889, and the Democrats against them. A few of both parties, perhaps, voted dishonestly, but I have no doubt that the great majority voted honestly. The Republicans were ABLE MEN AND DIFFERENT PREMISES. 335 interested in having their rules adopted, and looked for arguments to justify their course ; the Democrats were interested in having them rejected, and looked for argu- ments to justify their course. History abounds in illustrations of the effects of interest on belief. Every one who has studied the history of Calhoun knows that a great change began to take place in his opinions about the year 1825. Before that time. he had been an advocate of a protective tariff, a national bank, internal improvements, a liberal interpretation of the Con- stitution. About 1825 his opinions on all these questions began to undergo a change, and in a few years he had completely wheeled about. The explanation is, that about this time he had begun to see that slavery was the control- ling interest of the South, and that the only constitutional weapon with which it could be defended was the doctrine of State rights. Under the influence of this perception the only facts that he permitted himself to realize (imagine) were those that supported his favorite doctrine. Andrew Jackson's history abounds in illustrations of this kind. No man could be his friend and disagree with him. He was not only a very sincere patriot, but he was sure he was right, and therefore that everybody who disagreed with him was wrong. What seemed true to him seemed so self-evident that he could not understand how a man could honestly and honorably differ with him. His feel- ings not only determined his beliefs, but gave them such intensity that he could not conceive that any one could really doubt them. The history of men like Alexander Hamilton and Jeffer- son gives still different illustrations of this truth. Because 336 REASONING. of natural differences between the things they liked, they inclined to start from different premises in their political reasonings. Jefferson naturally trusted the people and believed in their political capacity, because of his optimistic temperament and because of his hatred of any form of government which made tyranny possible. Without Jeffer- son's optimism and Jefferson's hatred of a form of govern- ment which made tyranny possible, and with a strong love of order and stability, Hamilton as naturally believed in a strong government — one strong enough to hold the people in check — as did Jefferson in a weak one, because he did not think the people needed much governmental restraint. Two Things to be Done in Training the Reasoning Powers of Pupils. — From this point of view, it is clear that there are two things to be done in the training of the reasoning powers of our pupils : (i) To train them to reason correctly from given premises ; and (2) to give them such training as will diminish, as much as possible, the influence of personal considerations in selecting the premises upon which they base their reasoning — to give them such a love of truth that it will be able to neutralize the influence of all merely personal preferences and wishes. What we want to believe has a great influence on what we do believe, but it has no influence in determining what is true. Calhoun and the South wanted to believe that slavery was right, and they did ; but that did not make it right. In order to defend slavery, they wanted to believe that the doctrine of State rights was true, and they did ; but that did not make it true. Their attempt to put it in practice, how- REASONING POWERS OF PUPILS. 337 ever resulted in one of the most fearful civil wars of which history gives us any account. Yet all that can be done, it seems to me, in the way of diminishing the influence of personal considerations in determining premises, is, in the first place, to point out the great danger of such influences. We have considered examples of such influences from history ; you need not go to history to find them in abun- dance. Incidents at school, if you are on the lookout for them, will give you ample opportunity to bring home to your pupils the fact that there is great danger of their being led to believe this or that, not because a candid sur- vey of all the facts shows that it is most probable, but because they wish to believe it. In the second place, we can set them a good example. I do not know how United States history can be taught profitably except by constant reference to current events. Mr. Freeman well says that "History is past politics and politics present history"; and the teacher of United States history should constantly try to illustrate "past politics" by "present politics," and show how "present politics" are the necessary results of the politics of the past. But to do this profitably — to do it without exciting the prejudices of his pupils — he must make it very evident that in all the questions he discusses, his supreme desire is to get at the truth. And he must really have that desire. In these and all other questions he should not only allow, but encourage, the utmost free- dom of discussion. And when his pupils have pointed out an error in his reasonings — which they are sure to do sometimes — r- he should acknowledge it instantly, and thus show his supreme deference to truth. 33§ REASONING. ' QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Show clearly the difference between inductive and deductive reasoning. 2. What is a syllogism ? 3. Illustrate how it happens that able men so often differ with each other. 4. Illustrate the influence of interest on belief. 5. What can you do to train the reasoning powers of your pupils ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1 . Give illustrations from your own observations of the influence of interest on Belief. 2. Can you illustrate the same influence from current politics ? LESSON XXXVII. REASONING. (Continued.) We have seen that the only difference between inductive and deductive reasoning is that the one is based on an implicit and the other on an explicit universal?. We will now consider that kind of deductive reasoning that is usually called induction, and to avoid circumlocution I will give it the name that it usually bears. Relation of Induction to Generalization. — Induction very closely resembles generalization. Generalization, you remember, is the last of the three processes involved in the formation of a concept. A child directs his attention to two or more objects at the same time — comparison — and after noting their like and unlike qualities, fixes his atten- tion upon the former — abstraction — and thinks of them as the characteristics of a class — generalization. But there is no going from the known to the unknown, and, consequently, no reasoning in the act of generalization. When a child, noting that two or more objects resembling each other in a number of particulars, and all used to sit in, thinks of the qualities in which they resemble each other as the characteristics of a class — extends, in other words, the name given to them to all objects possessing similar qualities — he does not make an inference about 339 • 34-0 REASONING. the objects he does not see. He does not say that since these chairs have this and that and the other quality, therefore all chairs have them — that would be an induc- tion. But he says, Since these objects are alike in cer- tain respects, I will make a class of them, and if there are any other objects that possess the same qualities, I will put them in the same class — call them by the same name. Of course a child does not definitely think any such thoughts. We know that there is a great difference be- tween what the mind really does and what it is conscious of doing. And when a child sees two objects and calls them dogs — thus putting them in the same class — and when seeing another dog, he says, "dog" — putting it in the same class — it is plain that his mind has taken the course I have endeavored to describe. This is generaliza- tion. But there is a wide difference between generalization (making a class of objects) and induction (concluding be- cause one or more members of a class have such and such characteristics, therefore they all have it ; or because some- thing is true of one or more members of a class, therefore it will be true of all). In the one case, we are merely arranging objects into classes ; in the other, we reason from one or more members of the class to the entire class. From this it is evident that induction presupposes gen- eralization. If in induction I reason from one or more members of a class to the whole class, I must have the idea of the class already formed in my mind. We have already seen that inductive reasoning assumes that certain individuals are types of an entire class. Let us consider this further. INDUCTIVE REASONING. 34 1 Two Assumptions Underlying All Inductive Reason- ing. — When I reason that all crows are black because all the crows I have seen were black, I assume that the crows I have seen are types or examples of the entire class. This assumption that we can regard a greater or less number of individuals as types of a class clearly underlies a large part of our inductions, and we never can be quite sure in any case that we have a right to make it. Of course, it is more likely to be true when the instances which we assume to represent the entire class are very numerous. But, no matter how many cases we have examined, it will always be possible that some member of the class that we have not seen may be unlike those we have seen. An hypothesis is an assumption that we make to account for facts. Our minds are of such a nature that we feel a certain uneasiness when we know a fact that we can not explain, and therefore it is natural for us to try to make some hypothesis or supposition to account for any fact we know. And since, of course, we do not make improbable suppositions to account for facts, or rather since we do not make suppositions that seem to us improbable, we are inclined to regard them as true, so long as they explain the facts. And this is another assumption upon which the greater part, if not all, of our inductions are based. This assumption can not be so definitely stated as the preceding one. It would not be correct to state it in this form : An hypothesis which explains facts is true. For one great reason why people differ from each other so widely in their opinions is that of two hypotheses that equally well explain the facts, one seems true to one, and the other to another. A dozen men on a jury listen to the same evidence, and part of them base one conclusion upon 342 REASONING. it, and the rest of them another. This is only another way of saying that one hypothesis that explains the facts seems probable to a part of them, and another to the rest of them. I do not believe that a more definite account of this assump- tion can be given than the following : We are naturally disposed to believe any hypothesis that does not seem im- probable in itself, which explains facts for which we have, apart from it, no explanation. Law of Parsimony. — It is evident that of two hypoth- eses, one which assumes a cause certainly known to exist, to account for the facts, and one which assumes an un- known cause, the former is the more reasonable. That is the reason why we are bound to account for the actions of animals by means of the hypothesis of mechanical associa- tion, if we can. Animals certainly do associate things mechanically. If, then, we can explain their actions by means of laws known to be in operation, we have no right to assume any other. That is the meaning of the law of Parsimony: Causes must not be multiplied beyond necessity. Need of Care in Making Inductions. — Since we can not rid our inductions of an element of uncertainty, no matter how cautiously and carefully we frame them, it is evident that, unless we make them as cautiously and as carefully as we can, they are likely to have very little value. " I do not like Jews," says one. Get him to tell you why, and you will find that the reason is that he has known two or three Jews who were not pleasant persons. "It does not do boys any good to go to college," says another. "John Jones went to college, and he does not NEED OF CARE IN MAKING INDUCTIONS. 343 know any more than Will Smith does " — as though an examination of the case of John Jones entitled one to an opinion of the whole class of students that attend college. " I do not like people with little noses," says a third ; " they are always mean and stingy." The foundation for which is that he has seen one or two people with little noses who were stingy. Doubtless the great majority of the popular superstitions, "Thirteen is an unlucky num- ber," "Bad luck to begin anything on Friday," etc., origi- nated the same way. The best thing we can do to guard our pupils against such inductions is so constantly to call their attention to the necessity of founding their beliefs upon a wide basis of facts that they may get a realization of the danger of doing anything else. How to Impress this upon Pupils. — Of course, the first condition of doing this successfully is that you have a vivid appreciation of the dangers of such inductions your- self. If you have such an appreciation, by encouraging them to express their opinions upon the various matters that come up, you can do something to develop such an appreciation in them. And when you are trying to develop it, first of all in your own mind, and then in the minds of your pupils, remember that the greatest foe of progress is Ignorance, and that the strongest friends of Ignorance are the dogmatism and prejudice to which careless and slovenly reasoning naturally give birth. We have seen that when we appeal to a general pro- position to prove our conclusion, the reasoning is called deductive; when we appeal to particular facts, inductive. When we try to prove one fact by appealing to another which is only valid to prove the one fact we have inferred, 344 REASONING. so far as it has any validity, we are said to reason by analogy. Argument from Analogy. — Argument from analogy is defined by Jevons as " direct inductive inference from one fact to any similar fact." The same author gives the fol- lowing example : " Thus the planet Mars possesses an atmosphere, with clouds and mist closely resembling our own ; it has seas, distinguished from the land by a greenish color, and polar regions covered with snow. The red color of the planet seems to be due to the atmosphere, like the red color of our sunrises and sunsets. So much is similar in the surface of Mars and the surface of the earth, that we readily argue there must be inhabitants there as here. All that we can certainly say, however, is that if the cir~ cumstances be really similar, and similar germs of life have been created there as here, 1 there must be inhabitants. The fact that many circumstances are similar, increases the probability. But between the earth and the sun, the analogy is of a much fainter character. We speak, indeed, of the sun's atmosphere being subject to storms and filled with clouds, but these clouds are heated probably beyond the temperature of our hottest furnaces ; if they produce rain, it must resemble melted iron ; and the sun-spots are perturbations of so tremendous a size and character that the earth, together with half a dozen of the other planets, could readily be swallowed up in one of them. It is plain, then, that there is little or no analogy between the sun and the earth, and we can, therefore, with difficulty form a conception of anything going on in a sun or a star." 1 Italics are mine. questions. 345 Uncertainty of it. — This kind of reasoning is more uncertain than inductive reasoning. Jevons speaks of the similarity between so many circumstances in the case of Mars and the earth as increasing the probability that the former is inhabited because the latter is, and at the same time says that " all we can certainly say is, that if the cir- cumstances be really similar, and similar germs of life have been created there as here, there must be inhab- itants." Need I say that in the very nature of the case we neither know nor can know anything about whether " similar germs of life have been created there as here," and that our knowledge of the extent to which circum- stances are similar is so limited that any talk of probability is absolutely without foundation ? All that the facts war- rant us in saying is, that for aught we know Mars may be inhabited, but he who claims to be able to say that it probably is, lays claim to a larger amount of knowledge than falls to the lot of mortals. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. i. What is the difference between induction and generalization? 2. Show that induction presupposes generalization. 3. State and illustrate the two assumptions that underlie nearly all our inductions. 4. What is the law of Parsimony ? 5. Define and illustrate argument from analogy. 6. What seems to you its logical value? SUGGESTIVE QUESTION. Give illustrations from your own experience of over-hasty induc- tions. LESSON XXXVIII. APPERCEPTION. We have studied sensation, perception, memory, imagi. nation, conception, judgment, and reasoning — all modes of intellectual activity. If we pass them in rapid review before us, we shall see that in all of them the mind is discriminating or noting differences, and assimilating or noting resemblances. Assimilation and Discrimination in Sensation. — What is it to know a sensation ? It is to discriminate or mentally separate it from all other sensations. A child has many sensations which it does not know ; many sensations which it confuses with other sensations. But a sensation con- fused with other sensations is a sensation put in the wrong class — precisely as, if one were sorting out ribbons of different colors, the confusing of purple with blue would lead to the mixing of these two kinds of ribbons. In Perception. — So likewise in perception. The first act of the mind in perceiving is to separate mentally the thing perceived from everything else. You remember that, in the lessons on Attention, we saw that what we perceive depends upon what we attend to. The mind in attention simply singles out the thing attended to from 346 IN MEMORY. 347 everything else, and that is discrimination. A dog may stand before you, but if, through preoccupation or from any other cause, you do not discriminate it from the objects about it, you do not know it. Discrimination, however, is not all that is essential to knowledge. As a matter of fact, when we discriminate we usually know, because assimila- tion, or the act of putting a thing discriminated into a class, usually follows so closely upon the act of discrimina- tion that the two seem to be identical. But they are not. To pick a piece of blue ribbon out of a scrap bag is one thing; to put it in a box with other blue ribbons is an entirely different thing. A child, seeing a dog, may dis- criminate it from all other objects, but until he perceives its resemblance to something else, until he assimilates it, he does not know it. In Memory. — So likewise with memory. What is it to have a perfect recollection of any event ? It is to have a definite knowledge both of the event and of the time when it happened. If the event is indistinct, it is not perfectly remembered, and its indistinctness is due to imperfect discrimination and assimilation. If we are in any doubt as to the time, it is because we do not perfectly discriminate it from other times, and do not perfectly assimilate it to other times. The event happened, say, at eleven o'clock yesterday, but I am uncertain whether it was eleven or twelve, or whether it happened yesterday or the day before — that is, I do not discriminate the hour and the day when it happened from all others. Possibly you think that in this latter case there is no assimilation. Inasmuch as in any one place there is but one point of time known as eleven o'clock, April 26, 1 890, 348 APPERCEPTION. the question may be asked as to how it is possible for assimilation of such a fact to take place. The question can be readily answered if we bear in mind that the state of mind corresponding to the fact " eleven o'clock yester- day" is a complex concept. Before a child can know what is meant by "eleven o'clock yesterday," he must know the meaning of " yesterday " and " eleven o'clock," and this is possible only by discrimination and assimilation. But with the concepts of these two facts as elements, all that is necessary to the formation of the complex concept expressed by the phrase " eleven o'clock yesterday " is a synthesis of the two through the exercise of the construc- tive imagination. The product of constructive imagination is, of course, an image ; but as we can take the image of red color to illustrate the concept color, so we can take any image to illustrate the corresponding concept. In Conception. — We have seen that the three processes involved in conception are comparison — putting the atten- tion on two or more objects at the same time, discriminating them from all other objects ; abstraction — withdrawing the attention from their unlike qualities and fixing' it upon their resemblances, assimilating them ; and generalization ■ — extending their name to all other objects having similar qualities — a further act of assimilation. In order to judge, we must know the subject and predi- cate ; and to do this, we must discriminate and assimilate them. I can not judge that oak trees lose their leaves in autumn unless I know what oak trees are, and what is meant by " losing their leaves in autumn." But to know oak trees, I must discriminate them from all other trees, and assimilate them to each other. The state of mind IN REASONING. 349 corresponding to the fact " losing their leaves in autumn " is a complex concept; and to know its elements, as we have seen, we must assimilate and discriminate them. In Reasoning. — The same is true of reasoning. When I say that John is a mortal, since he is a man and all men are mortal, my conclusion is the result of two acts of assimilation — the assimilation of John to the class men, and of these to the class mortals. When I say that, since this and that and the other unsupported body have fallen, therefore all unsupported bodies will, I have perceived, in the first place, the resem- blance between the unsupported bodies I have seen — I have assimilated them ; and, in the second place, I have assimilated them to all other unsupported bodies. Why so Many Kinds of Assimilation and Discrimina- tion? — Since all knowing consists to so great an extent of discrimination and assimilation, how can there be so many different kinds of knowing ? Because there are so many different facts to be discriminated and assimilated. The discrimination and assimilation of single sensations leads to the knowledge of sensations; of groups of sensations to the perception of objects which result in percepts ; of per- cepts, to concepts ; of concepts, to judgments ; of judgments, to conclusions. But does not this answer leave the really difficult point unexplained ? Granting that there are different kinds of facts to be discriminated and assimilated, it is easy to see that they would issue in different products. But how is it that there are different kinds of facts ? That is the really difficult question. 350 APPERCEPTION. How do Psychical Facts Come to Be? — It may seem that to ask that question is like asking why there are so many different kinds of facts to be known in the universe. But it is not. Granted that there are things without, how do we come to know them ? How does that which is there somehow get to be represented here in my mind? Granted also that I have lived — have laughed and wept and hoped and feared — have played a part as a conscious being in this strange world. But the past is gone, and with it its experiences. How is it that I am able to ^collect them ? How is it that that which was there and then somehow gets to be represented here and now in my mind? Granted also that there are real relations existing between real things, how am I able to assert them ? That which gets into my mind is mental. How is the merely mental transformed into the non-mental, the subjective into the objective ? These, you know, are some of the questions we have been trying to answer, and they help us to realize what we are constantly in danger of forgetting — that our science, instead of having merely to discover the laws that govern ready-made facts, is to a large extent a science of pro- cesses — a science that has to discover how its facts come to be. • Sensations. — How, then, do the facts that we know as sensations come to exist ? In the way already described — characterless, indefinite, and undifferentiated experiences, but with latent likenesses and differences, begin to exist. How these were transformed into definite sensations has already been explained. Here we have only to note that this transformation was the mind's own work; that what PERCEPTS. 351 we call a sensation is, in a sense, the product of the mind's own activity — that this activity converted latent likenesses and differences into a consciousness of likeness and dif- ference between definite sensations. Percepts. — How do percepts come to exist ? By the mind's own activity. Sensations existing with certain spatial meanings come to be known as having those mean- ings. Through the native power of the mind to interpret the brogue of its sensations, to understand the meaning of their local signs, the mind arranges its sensations in space, and the result is a percept. Recollections. — How do recollections of past ex- periences come to exist ? Again by the mind's own activity. Our experiences succeed each other in time. That we know that they do results from the activity of our minds ; the mind retrojects some of its images into the past through its interpretation of their temporal signs, precisely as it projects some of its sensations into space through its interpretation of their local signs. Judgments. — How do judgments come to exist ? Through the mind's power to apprehend the various rela- tions of reality. Day precedes night. The mind appre- hends it, and the result is a judgment. Hamilton origi- nated the financial policy of the Federalist party. The mind apprehends it, and the result is a judgment. Judg- ments are the products of the mind's power to apprehend the relations of reality. In each of these cases we have to note that it was no mere differentiation and classification of ready-made facts 352 APPERCEPTION. that brought about the result. The mind makes its sen- sations, makes its percepts, makes its concepts, makes its Judgments, and so makes possible their discrimination and assimilation. Relation of Attention to these Mental Activities. — We know also the condition of these various activities. But it is only a condition. The activity of attention is no more to be confused with what results from it than light is to be confused with seeing. The best- eye can not see in the dark, and the finest mind can not elaborate its pro- ducts without attention; but light is not seeing, and atten- tion is not the fact-making activity of the mind. Apperception Defined. — We see also in what this activity consists. It is a relating activity — in sensation, bringing characterless experiences into relations of like- ness and difference; in perception, combining sensations into relations of space ; in memory, combining the various elements of experience into relations of time; in concep- tion, combining percepts into relations of likeness; in judgment, combining percepts and concepts into the various relations of reality apprehended by the mind. If, then, we adopt the name usually applied to this activity and call it apperception, we see that apperception is that combining activity of the mind that brings order and harmony into our mental life by transforming the con- sciousness of related facts " into the consciousness of relations'' 1 Apperception, then — of which, indeed, discrimination and assimilation are modes— r is the most fundamental 1 See Baldwin's Psychology, p. 65. questions. 353 form of mental activity. It makes sensations, and then, in the form of discrimination, separates those that are un- like and assimilates those that are alike ; it discovers the space relations of sensations, transforms them into attri- butes of bodies, and then discriminates the objects so perceived that are unlike, and assimilates those that are alike; it discerns the time relations of mental facts, and transforms a succession of experiences into a conscious- ness of succession ; it combines percepts into concepts, percepts and concepts into judgments, judgments into conclusions. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Define and illustrate discrimination and assimilation. 2. Analyze sensation, perception, memory, conception, judgment, and reasoning, in order to show that in ail of them discrimination and assimilation take place. 3. Psychology is to a large extent a science of processes — what is the meaning of that ? 4. How does it happen that discrimination and assimilation issue in such different products? 5. Define apperception. 6. What does apperception do in sensation, perception, memory, constructive imagination, conception, judgment, and reasoning ? 7. What is the condition of apperception? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. A child saw a donkey and called it a horse; a rabbit, and called it a cat; a fox, and called it a dog. Why? 2. Report similar facts from your own observation. LESSON XXXIX. APPERCEPTION, {Continued^ In the last lesson we saw that perception, memory, imagination, conception, judging, and reasoning are pro- cesses of discrimination and assimilation, exercised on dif- ferent materials, and that these different materials are themselves products of a more fundamental mode of mental activity, of which discrimination and assimilation are forms. How can Knowledge Best be Imparted ? — This being so, the question, How can I impart knowledge most clearly ? may be put in another form. From the point of view we have now reached, we are able to see that the question is, How can I supply the conditions of appercep- tion ? or, to put it more definitely, though not so accurately, How can I enable my pupils to discriminate and assimilate most perfectly ? This activity of apperception in any of its forms consists in the establishment of relation. If, then, a new fact is to be apperceived, it must be brought into relations with old facts. The unknown must be related to the known. Now, in order that this may take place — in order that this relation may be established — it is not enough that 354 HOW CAN KNOWLEDGE BE IMPARTED? 355 the mind have in the storehouse of memory concepts to which the known may be related ; these concepts must be brought out ; and the more completely the whole of one's past experience is ransacked for related concepts, the more perfect will be the apperception or assimilation. We can easily illustrate the truth of this by appealing to our own experiences. Sometimes we read books to " inform our minds," or " to get general information " ; sometimes to get definite answers to definite questions. Which do you find the more profitable reading ? The last, I am sure ; and the reason is that your whole knowledge of the subject to which your question relates is brought to bear on everything you find related to it. Your "apper- ceiving conceptions . . . stand, like armed soldiers, within the strongholds of consciousness, ready to pounce upon" everything they can bring within their grasp v Read the same book with no question in mind, and those apperceiv- ing conceptions are like soldiers asleep, who let their enemy go by them undisturbed. You get illustrations of the same truth when you re-read a book after a considerable interval. If the book is thoughtful — worth re-reading — you are almost sure to find some suggestive or striking observation that escaped your notice the first time. I have read Bagehot's Physics and Politics many times, but I do not remember that my attention was ever attracted to the para- graph quoted some pages back until I read it a couple of weeks ago. When I read it before, I had " no receptivity" for it, either because I had no related concepts in my mind, or because they were in the background of con- sciousness, and therefore, like soldiers asleep, unservice- able. But when I read it two weeks ago, my attention had been attracted to the subject of the paragraph by my 356 APPERCEPTION. own observations, and so my mind pounced upon it with great eagerness. When you select a subject for an essay that interests you very much, three or four months before the time you expect to write it, your experience gives you illustrations of the same truth. You scarcely read a single newspaper, or a magazine article, or a novel, that does not suggest some idea on your subject. You suddenly become aware that there is a universe of thought as well as a material universe, and you find your subject "opening out" into it in every direction. Without that subject in mind, your reading would have had no such result ; your apperceiving conceptions would have been asleep ; their natural prey would have escaped. Preparation. — These illustrations enable us to realize that the Herbartians are right when they say that "the first great function of the teacher is to prepare the way for the rapid and efficient assimilation of that knowledge which the study hour or the recitation period is to fur- nish" and that this function consists in causing "to appear in the consciousness" of the pupil "those interpreting ideas" that enable him to assimilate what is presented to him. 1 Before the "presentation," then, of the matter of the lesson, the pupil's mind should be prepared for it. We have seen already how much the value of our reading is increased when we read to get a definite answer to a defi- nite question. Let us bear this in mind when we are preparing the minds of our pupils for the apperception of 1 De Garmo's Essentials of Method, p. 32. PRESENTATION. 357 concepts. Let us put a definite question before them which it is the aim of the lesson to answer. When we have stated clearly the object of the lesson, we can help him still further by helping him to array in consciousness his apperceiving conceptions, so that he will be most fully prepared to accomplish the work. We see the connection between this lesson and some preceding lesson. We should recall the previous lesson to his mind ; we should help him to bring out of the storehouse of his memory everything that bears on the lesson. We can, of course, do this most successfully by asking questions, because in this way we secure from him the greatest amount of mental activity. 1 Presentation. — When in such ways the mind of the pupil is prepared for the efficient assimilation of the lesson, the matter of the lesson should be presented — the teacher, of course, requiring as much of this to be done by the pupil as possible. This subject of presentation has already been discussed in connection with the Objective Method. Presentation is nothing but a process of getting " reality " before the mind of the pupil. Play of the Mind. — But we have seen that the "play of the mind " there spoken of is, for the most part, a form of apperception or assimilation. If we bear this in mind, we can better supply the conditions for it by bringing his mind into contact wtih those phases of the reality in ques- tion that present the most salient features for the activity of assimilation. 1 See on this whole subject the book already cited. 358 APPERCEPTION. Pedagogical Principle. — To this end, it will be useful for us to remember the following principle : " Objects and wholes of any kind are more easily discriminated and assimilated — apperceived in general — than qualities and parts." The ground of it is evident. Objects and wholes of any kind differ from each other in more marked and striking ways than qualities and parts, and conse- quently can be more easily discriminated. Since they also resemble each other in a greater number of particu- lars, they can be more easily assimilated. Proof. — You can prove its truth by appealing to your own experience. Which do you recognize more easily and certainly — your friends as wholes, or their individual features ? Try to describe the features of your most inti- mate friends in their absence, and you will see. You will often find yourself ludicrously uncertain as to the shape of the nose, the color of the eyes and hair, to say nothing of less prominent features. All of us likewise recognize a rose when we see it, but it requires the training of the botanist to point out the qualities which distinguish it from all other flowers. Assuming the truth of this principle, it is evident that we can best assist our pupils to discriminate and assimilate by presenting to them wholes and objects before parts and qualities. Material Wholes and Thought Wholes. — We must not limit the application of this principle to material objects and material wholes. It applies to thought wholes as well. Indeed, strictly speaking, all wholes are thought wholes — wholes made by thought, wholes that are wholes THOUGHT WHOLES IN ARITHMETIC. 359 because the mind chooses to think of them as such. There is absolutely nothing in existence except the universe which we may not think of as a part if we choose, and absolutely nothing that we can not think of as a whole. The universe, including everything, can not be thought of as a part of anything else. Apart from that, it is think- ing, and thinking only, which makes a thing a part or a whole. Thought Wholes in Arithmetic. — Many arithmeticians do not keep this fact in mind. A fraction is often defined as one or more of the equal parts of a unit, as though units were things of fixed and unchangeable values. I divide an apple into four equal parts, and you ask me if one of these equal parts is a fourth. I do not know how to answer the question, or rather the question does not admit of an answer until it is made more definite. If you ask me what I call one of the parts in relation to the other three, I answer, a unit. It is one in relation to the other three, two in relation to eighths, four in relation to sixteenths, and one-fourth in relation to the apple. The apple itself is one-fourth when considered in relation to a group of four apples, one-eighth in relation to a group of eight apples, and so on. As the mind decides in what relations it will consider things, it is clear that all wholes, as such, are products of the mind. The reason why certain wholes, as apples, oranges, horses, dogs, etc., are thought of as wholes, in a special sense, is that the purposes of life and their relation to each other make it natural for the mind to consider them as such. If this is clear, we may say that a whole is anything, mental or material, that the mind chooses to regard as a whole. 360 APPERCEPTION. In History. — Thus we may think of the life and public services of Alexander Hamilton as wholes. And, in ac- cordance with the principle we have been discussing, the student will be best assisted in getting clear ideas of the life of that great man by having his attention called to its broad general characteristics first, before these are modified and qualified. If the student learns that Hamilton was first a Tory, then a Democrat, and finally a believer in a strongly centralized aristocratic republic, the broad out- lines of Hamilton's political creed lie before him. The qualifications and specific description of these character- izations will put before him the changes in and final character of Hamilton's political creed with the utmost definiteness. So if your object is to give your class a clear idea of Hamilton's public services, first give them a clear idea of the great work of his life — the strengthen- ing and centralizing of the general government; then they are ready for the details — the measures and influences by which these ends were reached. 1 From the Known to the Unknown. — That we must proceed from the known to the unknown is another well- established rule in Pedagogy. It is hardly necessary to say that it is based on the fact that all knowing consists to so great an extent in discriminating and assimilating. When I learn a new fact — till then, of course, unknown — I put it in a class of already known facts. From the Simple to the Complex. — That we must proceed from the simple to the complex, from the indefinite to the definite, from the unqualified to the qualified, is 1 See on this subject De Garmo on Method-wholes. FROM THE SIMPLE TO THE COMPLEX. 36 1 another well-established pedagogical rule. What is its psychological basis ? Plainly that a simple, indefinite, or unqualified fact or statement is more easily discriminated and assimilated than a complex, definite, or qualified fact or statement. If you are teaching a child the form of the outlines of South America, you will succeed best by ignor- ing its irregularities in the beginning. With the map before him, make him conscious of its general resemblance to a triangle or a ham of meat, or other familiar object, before you try to teach him how it differs in shape from them. If in such ways you fix the general outline in his mind before advancing to the details, you will impart clear ideas. And why ? Because you are working in harmony with the laws of his mind. There is a stronger resemblance between the outline of South America and a triangle than there is between it and any other simple figure, and if the child has a familiar knowledge of a triangle, he assimilates the general shape of South America as soon as his attention is called to it. Indeed, so far as thought is concerned, this case comes under the general principle already spoken of — wholes and objects are more easily discriminated and assimilated than parts and qualities. To thought, South America has the shape of a triangle — a whole — qualified by certain irregularities. In other words, just as the mind grasps a whole before it does the parts, so it grasps the triangle in South America before it does the deviations from a triangle. So likewise of the unqualified or indefinite in relation to the qualified or definite. In relation to thought, the unqualified and indefinite are wholes, first known as such before they are qualified and made definite, and the qualities are parts. 362 APPERCEPTION. Application. — When we have put our pupil in posses- sion of a concept, or definition, or induction, or maxim — • we should, as the Herbartians insist, help him to vitalize his knowledge by helping him to apply it. 1 In teaching history, for example, we are constantly running upon some truth about human nature, or upon some law of economics or politics. To vitalize this truth, the pupil must be helped to see its relation to everything to which it applies within the range of his knowledge and experience. Here we can see the educational value of " reviews " — it is to give to the student's knowledge that familiarity that makes it possible for him to relate it properly to new knowledge, and to use it in acquiring new knowledge. Reviews. — Ordinary usage tends to promulgate the idea that reviews are useful only to fix things in the mind of the student in order that he can tell them. If they are only good for that, they are hardly good for anything. There are three stages of knowing. In the first, knowl- edge is merely implicit ; the student can not express what he knows. Such knowledge is useful as a foundation for something better; but if it never leaves that stage, it is 1 I can not agree with Dr. De Garmo and the Herbartians that this last stage or step always forms a part of a correct method. He holds that "(1) the apperception of new facts in preparation and presentation ; (2) the transition from individual to general notions, whether the latter appear as definitions, rules, principles, or moral maxims ; and (3) the application of these general truths to concrete facts, i.e., the return from universals to particulars," are the three " essential stages of a correct method." I think that he makes this second step much too definite, as is evident from what I have said about " the play of the mind about the reality " in discussing the Objective Method. In some cases, as we have seen, " the play of the mind " is simply the appreciation of what is beautiful. How can such appreciation be applied ? QUESTIONS. 363 almost worthless. In the second, it has become explicit ; the student can tell what he knows, but he does not know it fluently enough, so to speak, to use it in thinking. In the third, the student not only knows, but knows so well that he can use his knowledge in thinking ; he can use it in acquiring, and also in illustrating, new knowledge. Such knowledge is thoroughly assimilated ; it has become a part, as it were, of the warp and woof, the flesh and bone and blood of his mind. To develop knowledge into that shape is the great function of reviews. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Make a careful summary of the last lesson. 2. In what does apperception consist ? 3. What light does it throw on the preparation of the pupil's mind for the lesson ? Illustrate. 4. In what should such preparation consist ? 5. Explain the principle that underlies the proper presentation of facts. 6. What is a thought whole ? Illustrate. 7. Why should we proceed from the simple to the complex, from the known to the unknown, etc. ? 8. What are the three " essential stages" of the Herbartians ? 9. Criticise his statement of them. 10. What is the function of reviews ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTION. Give examples of De Garmo's last stage, selected from geography, history, and reading. LESSON XL. NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. Summary of the Preceding Chapter. — We have now completed our survey of the so-called intellectual faculties. The last chapter has enabled us to see that this division of the mind. into faculties is not a fundamental division — that, however convenient it may be to speak of perception, memory, imagination, conception, and reasoning as though they were distinct and separate powers of the mind, all of them are mere modes of apperception. What the Training of the Faculties of the Mind Means. — In connection with the discussion of each of these modes of apperception, or faculties, as we may, to save circumlocution, continue to call them, we have con- sidered the subject of their training. At this point, we may profitably consider the question as to what the train- ing of these faculties means. Does the training of the faculty of observation mean the development of the power of observation in general? In other words, does the student who increases his power of observation by observ- ing plants, increase his powers to the same extent — or even at all — to observe the facts of his mind ? Does the student who cultivates his memory by the study of history 364 SYMMETRICAL DEVELOPMENT. 365 — -his historical memory, we may call it — at the same time cultivate his geological or botanical memory ? Does the student who cultivates his geographical imagination at the same time cultivate his mathematical imagination ? Does the student who trains his reasoning power through the study of mathematics at the same time train it for the study of chemistry? In a word, are we to suppose that the exercise of our powers upon any subject matter trains them to an equal extent to deal with any other subject matter ? Symmetrical Development. — Students familiar with pedagogical literature have already seen that I am inquir- ing into the validity of a time-honored conception — the conception of symmetrical development. The ordinary con- ception of education is that it consists in symmetrical development, and by symmetrical development popular thought supposes such a development of the various powers of the mind as corresponds to their worth in the mental life. As reasoning is of more value than memory, it should receive more cultivation, but the cultivation which each of them receives is a cultivation good for any subject matter whatever. This is the conception the truth of which I am calling in question. Huxley on Education. — We meet this conception in so clear-headed a thinker as the late Professor Huxley. " That man," he says, " I think, has had a liberal education who has been so trained in his youth that his body is the ready servant of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of ; whose intellect is a clear, cold logic-engine, with all its parts of 366 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. equal strength, and in smooth working order ; ready, like a steam-engine, to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of the mind ; whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the great and fundamental truths of nature, and of the laws of her opera- tions ; one who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but whose passions are trained to come to heal by a vig- orous will, the servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all beauty, whether of nature or art; to hate all vileness, and to respect others as himself." Is Huxley's Opinion True ? — Are there any men with intellects of this description ready, like a steam-engine, to be turned to any kind of work, ready to observe and remember any classes of facts, to imagine any phases of reality, to reason upon any subject with equal facility? With the possible exception of a few universal geniuses like Aristotle, Shakespeare, and Goethe, have there been any men capable of spinning the gossamers as well as of forging the anchors of the mind ? If not, it is certainly a legitimate inquiry whether, in trying to reach an inherently impossible ideal, we are not losing valuable attainable goods. I believe that the exercise of our powers upon any class of facts does not train them to the same extent for exercise upon any other class of facts; that you can say of the same man that he is a good observer and a bad observer, that he has a good memory and a bad memory, that he has great imaginative power and poor imaginative power, that he is a good reasoner and a poor reasoner, according as you have in view one subject matter or another upon which his powers are to be exercised. PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 367 Suggestions of Physiological Psychology. — I call your attention to the support which this proposition receives from Physiological Psychology. In our study of the brain we have learned that the functions of the cerebrum are to some extent localized, that the part of the cerebrum especially active in occasioning sensations of color is not the part especially active in connection with sensations of smell, and so on. What good reason, then, is there for supposing that a good observer of the colors of objects will be a good observer of sounds, or that exercise in one kind of observation has the same effect upon the mind as another ? On the contrary, such a view of the facts sug- gests that we ought to speak of the mind's powers of observation, not power, precisely as we have seen that we ought to speak of the memories, rather than of the memory, of the mind. Conclusions Drawn from Experience in Case of Obser- vation. — When we study the effects of exercise in observa- tion upon our minds and those of the people we know, we find the suggestions of Physiological Psychology abundantly confirmed. The sailor who can tell at a glance what line a steamship belongs to, and can detect land where you can not see anything, is a very poor observer when you get him on land ; the jeweler who can tell with ease whether a stone is a genuine diamond, but who has no skill in distinguishing the qualities of silks ; the wool-buyer who can tell the quality of wool from the way it feels, but who can not distinguish one quality of tea from another ; the tea-taster who can discriminate the qualities of different teas with almost unerring accuracy, but who can scarcely distinguish one horse from another — are cases in point. 368 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. The expression, Such and such a man is a good observer, is always elliptical. It means that he is a good observer of certain classes of facts. Memory. — We have already seen that the same is true of memory. We recall how Dr. Harris cultivated his memory for dates, and then for names — the cultivation of the one kind of memory was not the cultivation of the other. Every one knows that the man in whose memory certain kinds of facts "stick," apparently without effort upon his part, may remember facts in another department of thought only with great difficulty. The student who can not remember Latin and Greek forms may carry mul- titudes of chemical facts in his mind without difficulty, as one who can not remember mathematical formulas may remember psychological or historical facts with ease. How easily the story-teller remembers long-winded stories, or the practiced chess-player complicated positions on the chess-board, but it does not follow that either of them has a good memory for anything else. Imagination. — We have seen that the same is true of the imagination. We remember that not only is it not true that the sort of training which the physicist gives his imagination in the study of his subject does not train his imagination to realize the facts of Psychology, but that in some respects such a training is a positive dis- qualification for it. Professor James reports an incident which illustrates in a very vivid way the effect of the study of biology on the psychological imagination. " I have heard a most intelligent biologist say : ' It is high time for scien- tific men to protest against the recognition of any such REASONING. 369 thing as consciousness in a scientific investigation.' " The imagination of this biologist was so disqualified by his studies for apprehending the realities of consciousness that it seemed absurd to him to take any account of them at all ! Each subject has its appropriate imagination, and the cultivation of the imagination by exercising it upon one 'subject matter is not the cultivation it would receive by exercising it upon another. Galton found that people in general society have as a rule much greater power to imagine in definite and vivid ways the things and events of ordinary life than men of science. The reason is that men of science are engaged for the most part in dealing with the images of symbols, and they therefore lose the power to form definite and clear-cut images of things. Reasoning. — The same is true of reasoning. Every teacher knows how common it is to meet students who excel in one study, but who are below mediocrity in another. And biography is crowded with examples which show that excellence in one field is no warrant for inferring excellence in another. Charles Sumner, excelling as a statesman, but below mediocrity as a mathematician; Darwin, almost failing as a student of Latin and Greek, but with powers of reasoning in other fields which have placed him in the very front of the naturalists of the world; Sir William Hamilton, with powers as a metaphysician of the highest order of excellence, but with little capacity for mathematics — are cases in point. One may say indeed that one of the great characteristics of the nineteenth century is to emphasize more and more the value of expert knowledge. Who cares for a mathematician's opinion about currency, or for an economist's opinion about mathematics? Who 370 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. wishes to know what a clergyman thinks about geology, or what a geologist thinks about theology ? President Eliot well says : " Confidence in experts, and willingness to employ them and abide by their decisions, are among the best signs of intelligence in an educated individual or an educated community." The reason is not only that expert knowledge is -essential, but expert reasoning. In acquiring the knowledge of his specialty, the expert has acquired facility to reason upon it so that he is as much superior to the layman in a certain kind of reasoning capacity as he is in the possession of a certain kind of knowledge. Truth Emphasized by the Notion of Symmetrical Development. — We seem justified in concluding, then, that there is no such thing as a universal training of per- ception, memory, imagination, reasoning. The notion of symmetrical development has played its part upon the educational stage. It is time for the curtain to drop upon it forever. That part has undoubtedly been useful. The idea of symmetrical development has helped us to remem- ber that man is more than intellect — that a man whose intellect alone is developed has a poor education, no matter how well developed his intellect may be, as a man with a good deal of taste in some directions is likely to be a drivelling sentimentalist without a proper training of his intellect. A conception which has helped to keep such facts before our minds has rendered important service. It has also emphasized the fact that teachers have so much difficulty in remembering that the proper training of the intellect consists in something more than imparting knowledge. ERRORS SUGGESTED. 37 1 Errors Suggested by it. — But it has also done a good deal of harm. Few educational experts to-day doubt that we require our pupils to study arithmetic at least twice as long as we ought. Why do we do it ? Because of the notion of symmetrical development. With the idea that the study of arithmetic is especially adapted to train the reasoning power, we put our pupils at it when they start to school, and keep them at it until they enter the high school, and sometimes even longer. The same reasoning is used to justify the vicious extent to which our pupils are required to study technical grammar. I can not take time to point out the mischief which this mode of reasoning has wrought in high schools and colleges — to show the absurdity, for example, of requiring American citizens to study Latin, and not requiring them to study American history ; of requiring them to study Greek, and not requiring them to study political economy ; of requir- ing them to study higher mathematics, and not requiring them to study municipal government. Accept the theory that the training of the reasoning power upon one subject is to an equal extent a training of it to deal with any other subject — and such requirements are wise. Accept the theory that we acquire the capacity to reason upon any subject matter by actually reasoning upon that subject matter — and such requirements are absurd. If, then, we must abandon the idea of symmetrical development as the criterion by which we are to be guided in the determining of courses of study, what shall be our guiding principle ? This question I will try to answer in the following lesson. 372 NATURE OF DEVELOPMENT. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What is meant by the training of the faculties of the mind ? 2. State Huxley's opinion on education. 3. In what particular was he mistaken ? 4. What conclusion does Physiological Psychology suggest ? 5. What conclusions can we draw from experience in the case of (a) observation, (6) memory, (c) imagination, (d) reasoning ? 6. What truth is emphasized by the notion of symmetrical develop- ment? 7. What errors are suggested by it? LESSON XLI. THE END OF EDUCATION. Herbartian Conception. — The question as to the crite- rion which is to guide us in selecting courses of study is the question as to the end of education. The Herbartians tell us that this end is character. Taken in the ordinary sense, as the equivalent of moral character, we all know that is not true. All of us are acquainted with men of character who are not educated. Dewey's Definition of Character. — But I find myself obliged to dissent from the view that the end of education is the development of character, as character was defined at the recent (1897) meeting of the Herbart Society. Said Dr. Dewey: "Character means power of social agency, organized capacity of social functioning. It means, as already suggested, social insight or intelligence, social executive power, and social interest or responsiveness." In other words — according to Dr. Dewey — that man is educated who sees the needs of society, has capacity to promote them, and is disposed to do it. It Regards Man Simply as a Member of Society. — Why not say, That man is educated who sees his own needs, — using the expression in the most comprehensive 373 374 THE END OF EDUCATION. sense, — has capacity to promote them, and is disposed to do it? If you say that the two definitions really mean the same thing, that they are descriptive of two sides of the same fact, I beg to dissent. Dr. Dewey 's definition regards man as simply a member of society ; the defini- tion suggested as a substitute regards man as an individ- ual. The ancient conception was that the end of man was to serve the state, and that the object of education was to qualify him for it. As it may seem at first sight that it makes no difference whether you state the end of education in terms that relate to the individual, or in terms that relate to society, so it may seem that it could not have made any difference whether the old Greeks stated their conception of education in terms that related to the state, or in terms that related to the individual. But when we find practices which we abhor defended on the principle that the individual exists for the state — practices such as slavery, the killing of feeble or deformed children, the treatment of barbarians as a race essentially inferior to the Greeks — it becomes evident that a conception which ignores the value and significance of man as an individual is not only false, but that it leads to pernicious practical consequences. Difference between Dewey's Conception and that of the Ancient Greeks. — The difference between Dr. Dewey's conception and that of the ancient Greeks is that he puts " society " in the place of the state. As a man, according to the ancient Greeks, was nothing but a citizen, so, according to Dr. Dewey, he is nothing but a member of society. As the individual, according to the ancient conception, existed for the state, so, according to Dr. PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS. 375 Dewey, he exists for the sake of society. " He lives in, for, and by society." And as we have found pernicious prac- tical consequences growing out of the notion that man was nothing but a citizen, so we shall find pernicious prac- tical proposals based on the notion that man is nothing but a member of society. Practical Deductions. — "As to methods," says Dr. Dewey, " this principle " — that man exists for society, and that the school should be a social community which reflects and organizes the fundamental principles of all community life — "when applied means that emphasis must be upon construction and giving out, rather than upon absorption and mere learning. We fail to recognize how essentially individualistic" — note the word — "the latter methods are, and how unconsciously, yet certainly and effectively, they react into the child's ways of judging and of acting. Imagine forty children all engaged in reading the same books, and in preparing and reciting the same lessons day after day. Suppose that this constitutes by far the larger part of their work, and that they are con- tinually judged from the standpoint of what they are able to take in in a study hour, and to reproduce in a recitation hour. There is next to no opportunity here for any social or moral division of labor} There is no opportunity for each child to work out something specifically his own, which he may contribute to the common stock, while he, in turn, participates in the productions of others. All are set to do exactly the same work and turn out the same results. The social spirit is not cultivated — in fact, in 1 Italics not in the original. 376 THE END OF EDUCATION. so far as this method gets in its work, it gradually atrophies for lack of use" x Criticism. — Would Dr. Dewey have the forty pupils read forty different books in order to make "a moral division of labor " ? Would he have teachers set their pupils to work with a view to the needs of the individual pupils, or with a view to the needs of the school as a social community? Is the method which lays emphasis upon construction less individualistic than the method which lays emphasis upon absorption ? Is the method which lays emphasis upon "giving out" good primarily because of its moral effects or because of its effect upon the intel- lect of the individual pupil ? Is there any moral differ- ence between " absorption " and " giving out " ? Shall I set my pupils a task in which the emphasis is laid upon " construction " and " giving out," not because that sort of work is good for them intellectually, but because of its supposed moral advantages ? Shall I sacrifice the intellec- tual good of my pupils for the supposed needs of the school as a social community ? Test of Good and Bad Methods. — The truth is, if the method which lays emphasis upon absorption is a bad method, it is not because it is individualistic, but because it is not individualistic enough. It deals too superficially with the individual. If the method which lays emphasis upon construction is a good method, it is because it has proper regard for the individual. The method which lays emphasis upon absorption is not a bad method because of its moral effects ; nor is the method which lays emphasis 1 Third Year-book of the National Herbart Society, pp. 15-16. THE PROPER STIMULUS. 377 upon construction a good method because of its moral excellences. The Proper Stimulus. — Dr. Dewey says that the absorptive method inculcates "positively individualistic motives and standards." "Some stimulus will be found to keep the child at his studies. At the best this will be his affection for his teacher," etc. Why not interest in his work ? Does not every teacher know that this is the motive to which we must successfully appeal if we are to get the best results ? " But unfortunately the motive (of affection for the teacher) is always mixed with lower motives which are distinctly individualistic." Fear enters in, " the fear of losing the approbation of others ; fear of failure so extreme and sensitive as to be morbid. On the other side, emulation and rivalry enter in. Just because all are doing the same work, and are judged (both in recitation and in examination, with reference to grading and to promotion) not from the standpoint of their motives or the ends which they are trying to reach, the feeling of superiority is unduly appealed to." Dr. Dewey on Promotion. — If the last sentence means anything, it means that pupils are to be graded and pro- moted not according to their capacity to work, but from the standpoint of their motives ! A boy is to be promoted from one class in arithmetic to another not because he is able to do the work in the advanced class, but because of the high moral purpose that animates him ! And how is it that Dr. Dewey has failed to see that fear of failure to do constructive work may likewise be morbid ; that emula- tion and rivalry may as easily step in in connection with 378 THE END OF EDUCATION. that kind of work as in connection with any other ? The natural incentive to study is interest in the work done. Whoever relies upon any other motive relies upon a com- paratively artificial motive. These two propositions, it seems to me, are self-evident: (i) When I set a pupil a given task, I ought to have in view his entire needs as an individual, and not as a member of society simply ; (2) such work gives him the best stimulus to work because it is best fitted to arouse his interest. Contrast between the Needs of a Pupil as an In- dividual, and his Needs as a Member of Society. — If it be said that I am drawing a contrast where none exists, the contrast between the needs of the pupil as an individ- ual, and his needs as a member of society, I reply in the first place that I am simply following Dr. Dewey's example. It is he who suggests that pupils shall be graded and pro- moted not according to their capacities — their needs as individuals — but according to their needs as members of society. In the second place, I am unable to believe that the needs of the pupil as an individual, and his needs as a member of society are identical. Is not the pleasure which a student feels in study one thing, and is not the pleasure he experiences as he reflects upon the service which knowl edge of the subject will enable him to render to his fellows another ? Is not the perception of the beauty of a land- scape, or a flower, or a picture, or a poem one thing, and is not the social use and consequence of that perception a different thing ? Should we try to help our pupils appre- ciate the beauty of nature and art for their own sakes as individuals, or for the social uses and consequences of s?"*H- perceptions ? THE INDIVIDUAL IS OF SUPREME VALUE. 379 If it were true that the needs of the pupil as an individ- ual and his needs as a member of society coincided, I should still protest in the interests of right thinking against Dr. Dewey's putting of the question. On that supposition, it is surely more rational to say that the ultimate reason for the work which we require of pupils is that by doing it they promote their own highest ends. For unless the pupil has felt the value and significance of his own life as an individual, how can he be expected to feel the value and significance of the lives of the individuals who compose society ? The Individual the Thing of Supreme Value. — As I conceive it, the Herbartian conception ignores the truth which all history has been struggling to teach — that the thing of supreme value and worth in this world is the in- dividual. What can you do for the individual? is the question which we should put to schools, churches, forms of government — institutions of every description. Not the man for the state, as the old Greeks taught, but the state for the man ; not the man for the Church, as the Middle Ages taught, but the Church for the man ; not the pupil for the school, as Dr. Dewey teaches, but the school for the pupil. If, then, we must reject the notion that the end of education is symmetrical development, and the Herbartian conception, that it is the development of character, what shall we take as our goal ? Preparation for Rational Living the Object of Educa- tion. — Perhaps it is impossible to answer this question more definitely than by saying that the object of education 380 THE END OF EDUCATION. should be preparation for wise and rational living ; com- plete living, Rousseau and Herbert Spencer have calleS it, wise and rational living not only in society, but in all the relations of life. Many people suppose that the object of education is the communication of knowledge. Manifestly that is a part of education. For how can I act wisely without knowledge ? How can I take proper care of my health without some knowledge of hygiene ? How can I train my child intelligently without some knowledge of Psychology? How can I vote intelligently without some knowledge of economics and history ? How can I render these services to society upon the performance of which my livelihood depends without knowledge ? Popular thought errs, therefore, by taking a part of the truth for the whole. And the same is true of the Herbartian conception. All of us are members of society. A part of our lives is as members of society. But a man prepared to live wisely and rationally as a member of society only, would not be prepared for complete living; he would not be prepared to live wisely and rationally in all of the relations of life. Elements of it. — What constitutes preparation for rational living ? Not social, insight, social executive power, and social interest or responsiveness simply, as Dr. Dewey supposes, but insight into my own needs, and those of society in so far as it is related to me, ability to act accord- ingly, and the disposition so to act. In other words — the possession of a certain kind of knowledge ; a certain dis- cipline of the intellect; a certain responsiveness of the emotions; a certain training of the will. I must have knowledge ; I must be able to make the proper application A CERTAIN KIND OF KNOWLEDGE. 38 1 of my knowledge ; I must be disposed to do it ; I must be able to act on my disposition. (1) The Possession of a Certain Kind of Knowledge. — (1) The possession of a certain kind of knowledge. What kind ? That which bears on action and legitimate enjoy- ment. Whatever I need to know in order to act wisely and enjoy rationally the pleasures of life, my education should have taught me, or put me in a position to acquire. (2) Of a Certain Discipline of the Intellect. — (2) The possession of a certain discipline of the intellect. Dr. Dewey insists on the importance of constructiveness in contrast with mere absorption, and wisely, though for an unwise reason. Constructiveness and thought are essential, be- cause without them our pupils will not acquire the power to make a wise use of their knowledge. Without proper knowledge we can not act wisely, without ability to draw the proper inferences from our knowledge and make the proper applications of it we are equally incapable of wise action. (3) Of a Certain Responsiveness of the Emotions. — (3) A certain responsiveness of the emotions. Our emo- tions constitute what I may call the worth-giving side of our natures, that side of our nature which determines our estimate of things. Now, as Davidson says, "it is not enough for a man to understand the conditions of rational life in his own time, he must likewise love these conditions, and hate whatever leads to life of an opposite kind. This is only another way of saying that he must love the good and hate the evil ; for the good is simply what conduces 38? THE END OF EDUCATION. .to. rational or moral life, and the evil simply what leads away from it. It is perfectly obvious, as soon as it is pointed out, that all immoral life is due to a false distribu- tion of affection, which again is often, though by no means always, due to a want of intellectual cultivation. He that attributes to anything a value greater or less than it really possesses in the order of things has already placed himself in a false relation to it, and will certainly, when he comes to act with reference to it, act immorally," and, therefore, unwisely. (4) Of a Certain Training of the Will. — (4) A certain training of the will. " But again it is not enough," Davidson continues, "for a man to understand correctly and love duly the conditions of moral life in his own time ; he must, still further, be willing and able to fulfill these conditions. And he certainly can not do this unless his will is trained to perfect freedom, so that it responds, with the utmost readiness, to the suggestions of his discriminat- ing intelligence and the movements of his chastened affections." 1 Respect for Expert Knowledge. — There is one char- acteristic of a man prepared to live wisely in our demo- cratic country of such overriding importance that I can not omit to mention it, the less so as I may seem to have fallen into the same error which vitiates Spencer's reason- ing in his essay on " What Knowledge is of Most Worth," the mistake of supposing that the individual ought to be taught all that the society of which he is a member needs 1 Davidson's Greek Education, p. 9. QUESTIONS. 383 to know. It should be a primary object of our teaching to develop in our pupils a sense of respect for, and of the importance of expert knowledge. I have already quoted one sentence from President Eliot bearing on this point. Let me quote another : " Democ- racies will not be safe until the population has learned that governmental affairs must be conducted on the same principles on which successful private and corporate busi- ness is conducted and therefore it should be one of the principal objects of democratic education so to train the minds of the children that when they become adult they shall have within their own experience the grounds of respect for the attainments of experts in every branch of governmental, industrial, and social activity, and of con- fidence in their advice." * QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. Compare Dewey's conception of education with that of the ancient Greeks and the people of the Middle Ages. 2. Criticise it at length. 3. What is the object of education ? 4. What kind of training is required for rational living ? SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. 1. Do you agree with the Herbartians that arithmetic may be made a means of much cultivation ? 2. What do you think is the chief resource of the school in the way of moral training? In the way of the training of the will? * Outlook, Nov. 6, 1897, p. 573. LESSON XLII. THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. Importance of the Study of Children. — "All the roads in the Roman Empire led to the city of Rome." At every turn and corner in our study of our subject, we have seen that successful teaching demands a close, careful, and systematic study of children. At this stage in the history of the world, men have come to realize clearly the fact that, no matter what happens in the physical world; there is a cause for it. If a watch stops, or a lock refuses to act, we know -that there is a cause for it, and that a patient study of the facts of the case may enable us to discover and remove it. That is precisely the attitude which we should take toward our pupils. If they are not interested in any particular subject, if they are inattentive, if they do not like to go to school, there is a cause for it, and it is our business to learn what it is. Let us not be guilty of the stupidity of saying that some boys "naturally" dislike school. That is an easy explanation to which lazy teachers have a great tendency to resort. But it has a painful like- ness to some of the explanations of the Middle Ages. " Moving bodies have a natural tendency to stop," said the scholars of that time. " Some boys naturally dislike books," say many of our teachers now. Precisely as a more careful study of the facts has thoroughly discredited 384 CHANGE IN PEDAGOGICAL STUDY. 385 the former explanation, so I believe a careful study of the facts will thoroughly discredit the latter. Change in Pedagogical Study. — That the importance of the study of children is beginning to be generally recognized is one of the most encouraging signs of the times. In the beginning of the study of Pedagogy in this country, it was confined ' almost entirely to a study of methods. Later, it was seen that the most fruitful study of Pedagogy includes a study of the principles that under- lie methods ; that in order to know how to deal with the human mind, we must know why we deal with it thus and so ; and that to know the why of our procedure, we must know the laws that govern it. And little by little educators have come to see that, after all, the text-book on Psychology which it is of most importance for teachers to study is one whose pages are ever open before them — the minds of their pupils, and the children with whom they come in contact. Never before in the history of the world was the importance of the study of Psychology to teachers so generally recognized as now. But, suggestive as a knowledge of it is to thoughtful and intelligent teachers, the best result to be expected from it is the development of what Dr. Josiah Royce calls the psychological spirit 1 — the habit of observing children — and of the power to turn that spirit to the utmost possible account. In the first two chapters, we considered the benefits of the study of Psychology to the teacher. The conclusions there reached were such as seemed evident from the very nature of the case, independently of any special conclusions that our study of the mind would enable us to reach. And while 1 Educational Review, February, 1891. 386 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. I believe that we shall all agree that the claims there "made for it are fully borne out by the facts, I think we shall feel that if our study has made us more interested in the growth and development of the minds of children, more disposed to study them, less ready to dogmatize about them, more eager to learn by actual observation what they can do and what they can not do, what they like and what they do not like, the result of our study will be of incom- parably greater value than any there insisted on. Psychology and Education. — Because Psychology un- doubtedly underlies the science of education, I have seen what I can not but regard as a disposition to overestimate its importance. The opinion seems to be entertained in some quarters that every teacher should be a specialist in Psychology. If by that is meant that he must keep well abreast of psychological research, or that he should even be especially interested in current psychological literature, I enter my emphatic dissent. Many an excellent teacher undoubtedly reproaches himself for his lack of interest in it, forgetting that it is as impossible for every teacher to have a special interest in Psychology as it is for them all to have a special interest in mathematics or chemistry. By no such criterion should a teacher test his adaptation for his work. But if a teacher finds himself without inter- est in children, if he has no disposition to investigate the causes of the facts that thrust themselves upon him every day, if he finds himself disposed to be content with merely verbal explanations — "stupidity," "prejudice," "natural dislike of the subject," "bad home surroundings," "ugli- ness," etc., I would respectfully suggest that he carefully consider whether he has not mistaken his vocation. A DOCTRINE OF APPERCEPTION. 387 specialist in Psychology every teacher should not be; special and careful students of the minds of their pupils all teachers should be. I do not, of course, undervalue the study of psychologi- cal literature. But I do believe that the greatest practical benefit it can render to the teacher consists in the help it can give him in his study of children. Doctrine of Apperception Shows the Necessity of Studying Children. — Our study of apperception will en- able us to see how indispensable is the study of children. Whether we are perceiving, remembering, imagining, con- ceiving, judging, or reasoning, we are alike apperceiving. But apperception is the relating activity of the mind, the activity by which a thing the mind is engaged in knowing is brought into relation with something the mind already knows. In order, then, that the event which we call knowledge may take place in the mind, two conditions must be realized : (1) ideas must exist in the mind of the* pupil with which the thing to be known can be brought into conscious relation ; and (2) the relation to be estab- lished by the particular kind of knowledge must be one which the mind is capable of perceiving. Contents of Children's Minds. — No one but a careful student of children will avoid assuming that they know what they do not know, and, therefore, that they can understand what they do not understand. Educational journals have been emphasizing this point to such an ex- tent of late years that it would seem that the bare mention of it ought to be sufficient. Nevertheless, its importance is so great that I beg to quote a summary of the results of 388 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. the examination of some children in Germany : " It was found in thirty-three people's schools in the Vogtland, in the examination of the newly entered six-year-old children in June of the year 1878, that of 500 city children ques- tioned, 82 per cent had no idea of 'sunrise/ and 77 per cent none of ' sunset ' ; 37 per cent had never seen a grainfield, 49 per cent had never seen a pond, 80 per cent a lark, and 82 per cent an oak ; 37 per cent had never been in the woods, 29 per cent never on a river bank, 52 per cent never on a mountain, 50 per cent never in a church, 57 per cent never in a village, and 81 per cent had not yet been in the castle of Plauen ; 72 per cent could not tell how bread is made out of grain, and 49 per cent knew nothing yet of God. Similar conditions were shown in a factory village in the neighborhood of Reichenbach. In that place of 17 children only two knew any river, and what these called a river was a shallow ditch ; only two knew anything of God, and one of these thought of the clouds instead. Relatively much more favorable results were obtained in the examination in the other village schools. Of the 300 elementary scholars in these only 8 per cent had never seen a grainfield, 14 per cent had never seen a pond, 30 per cent a lark, and 43 per cent an oak ; only 1 4 per cent had never been in the woods, 1 8 per cent on the bank of a creek or river, 26 per cent on a mountain, 51 per cent in a church; only 37 per cent could not tell how bread comes from grain ; and 34 per cent knew nothing of God." l The investigations of President Hall and Superintendent Greenwood showed the same diversity in the contents of children's minds; the same lack of acquaintance with many things the knowledge of 1 Lange's Apperception, p. l6i. ABILITY TO APPREHEND RELATIONS. 389 which the teacher is likely to presuppose. Manifestly, if we hope to bring about that relating activity in the minds of our pupils in which all apperception consists, we must see to it that they have the proper ideas in their minds. Ability to Apprehend Relations can not be Ascer- tained in any A Priori Way. — But the second condition is just as important, and, like the first, it can be ascertained only by the study of individual children. Whether a pupil can bring an idea which I wish to impart to him into the required relation to something he already knows depends on his power to apprehend the relation. When can children learn numbers ? As soon as they can perceive numerical relations. A child can understand what "three" means when he can perceive the resemblance between three horses and three marbles — ■ when he can perceive that they resemble each other in being threes. Until then any attempt to teach him numbers must result in failure. When also can a pupil study technical grammar intelligently ? When he can form the conceptions with which it deals. But the only way we can learn when a child can perceive numerical relations, or a boy form the conceptions required in the study of technical grammar is by actual investigation ; there is no a priori method. How to Determine what is the Best Curriculum. — But these are not the only kinds of question which the study of individuals must answer. As the title of this lesson is intended to suggest, the term child -study is altogether too narrow to indicate the scope of the investi- gations that must contribute essential results to the science of education. Compare the courses of study of three 390 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. typical institutions: Harvard, Yale, and Stanford. What is the reason for the fundamental differences between them ? It is a difference of educational theories. The Harvard theory apparently is based on two suppositions : (i) that a primary purpose of education is to make a man an expert in some department, on the ground, in part, that the needs of modern life require that a man be capable of rendering expert service to society, in part, on the ground that a man who knows by his own experience what expert knowledge is will have proper respect for it in other lines ; (2) that the field in which a man's aptitudes best qualify him to become an expert will be most reliably indicated by his own unrestricted preferences. We have already seen that respect for expert knowledge is an indispensable part of a preparation for rational living. Among the questions, therefore, which must be answered before we have a right to a final opinion as to the wisdom of the Harvard plan, are these : (1) Does the possession of expert knowledge in one field give a man proper respect for it in other fields ? (2) Are the unrestricted preferences of students the most reliable indications of their special aptitudes ? These, manifestly, are questions of fact, ques- tions which can not be answered in any a priori way. We can answer them only by a careful and comprehensive study of results. Importance of Discovering a Child's Special Gift. — We can further illustrate the necessity of the study of individuals by a quotation from the article already cited. "Another important function of the public school in a democracy," says President Eliot, " is the discovery and development of the gift or capacity of each individual A CHILD S SPECIAL GIFT. 39 1 child. This discovery should be made at the earliest practicable age, and once made, should always influence, and sometimes determine, the education of the individual. It is for the interest of society to make the most of every useful gift or faculty which any member may fortunately possess; and it is one of the main advantages of fluent and mobile democratic society that it is more likely than any other society to secure the fruition of individual capacities. To make the most of any individual's peculiar power, it is important to discover it early, and then train it continuously and assiduously. ... In the ideal demo- cratic school no two children would follow the same course of study or have the same tasks, except that they would all need to learn the use of the elementary tools of educa- tion — reading, writing, and ciphering. The different children would hardly have any identical needs. . . . The perception or discovery of the individual gift or capacity would often be effected in the elementary school, but more generally in the secondary ; and the making of these dis- coveries should be held one of the most important parts of the teacher's work. . . . There is no such thing as equality of gifts, or powers, or faculties, among either children or adults; on the contrary, there is the utmost diversity; and education and all the experience of life increase these diversities, because school and the earning of a livelihood, and the reaction of the individual upon his surroundings, all tend strongly to magnify innate diversities. The pre- tended democratic school with an inflexible programme is fighting not only against nature, but against the interests of democratic society. Flexibility of programme should begin in the elementary school years before, the period of secondary education is reached. There should be some 392 THE STUDY OF INDIVIDUALS. choice of subjects of study by ten years of age ; and much variety by fifteen years of age. On the other hand, the programmes of elementary as well as of secondary schools should represent fairly the chief divisions of knowledge, namely, language and literature, mathematics, natural science, and history, besides drawing and music. If school programmes fail to represent the main varieties of intel- lectual activity, they will not afford the means of discover- ing the individual gifts and tendencies of pupils." What- ever differences some of us may feel with respect to details, I think we shall all agree that one of the important functions of education is to help pupils discover what they are best fitted to do, and this function can only be per- formed by schools which lay great emphasis upon the study of individuals. Extension of Study of Individuals by Means of History. — These illustrations, taken almost at random, have enabled us to realize how not only the science, but the art of education depends largely upon the study of individuals. If we extend this individual study by means of history, we shall find conceptions of the human mind constantly modified in a suggestive and helpful way. The sluggish Oriental, the intellectual Athenian, the super- stitious knight of the Middle Ages, are so many different forms into which our common human nature has been carved by that marvelous sculptor — education. The teacher who studies history from the point of view of Psychology will not only find himself in possession of constantly growing and useful and inspiring knowl- edge of historical facts, but he will find his knowledge of the human mind enlarging, and his realization of the questions. 393 almost omnipotence of education ever growing more viviri. vivid Summary. — We may sum up the benefits which a study of children, or of individuals, as I prefer to state it, may render to the teacher as follows : (i) It will help him see at what stage in the development of his pupils the various subjects which pupils should study should be taken up ; (2) it will help him in determining how much pupils can learn ; (3) it will help him decide how much work can be safely required of pupils ; (4) it will help him discover the special gifts of pupils ; and (5) it will help him at every step in his work by helping him to ascertain what his pupils know of the subjects he is trying to teach. QUESTIONS ON THE TEXT. 1. What was the character of the first study of Pedagogy in this country ? 2. How is it studied now ? 3. Mention some of the cautions which you should bear in mind in studying children. 4. Mention some of the things to be observed. 5. Mention some of the questions to be asked in learning the contents of children's minds. 6. Can you study Psychology in history ? 7. State at length the benefits to be derived from the systematic study of children. APPENDIX A. The case mentioned illustrates a dangerous tendency in our most highly organized schools — the tendency to forget the individual in the multitude. In our zeal for organization, we are in danger of losing sight of the fact that the school exists for the individual, not the individual for the school. However hard it may be to draw the line in practice, the principle is perfectly clear. Whenever it is evident that the individual will be injured by conforming to the requirements that are supposed to be good for the multitude, he should be excused from them. Society has too great an interest in the best possible education of all its members to justify the sacrifice of any of them to the demands of an unattainable and therefore impracticable ideal. APPENDIX B. When it is remembered that the inferential method may base its inferences on facts obtained in a variety of ways, it is easy to see that there may be various subdivi- sions of it. When its facts are obtained by comparing animals with human beings, it is called the comparative method ; when by experiment — as when we ascertain how long a time elapses from the contact of an object with any part of the body to the sensation — it is called the experimental method, and so on. 394 INDEX. Ability to apprehend relations, 389- Acquired reflexes, 50. Actions, 191. automatic, 49. centres of automatic, 50. reflex, 49. voluntary, 50. voluntary, reflex and semi-reflex, 42. Activity, intellectual, 301. Adaptation and interest, 136. law of, 137. Affirmative and negative judg- ments, 315. conclusions, 330. American crow-bar case, 20. Analogy, argument from, 344. Animal intelligence, 324, 325. Animals, experiments upon lower, 20. experiments upon the cortex of different, 56. removal of parts of the brain of, souls in, 65. Ant, intelligence of, 324. Antagonism or opposition of know- ing, feeling, willing, 155. Antecedents of sensations are phys- ical facts, 165. the four, 166. Aphasia, 22, 60, 61. motor, 23. Apperception, 346. defined, 352. Application of association of ideas in cultivating the memory, 238, 243- Argument from analogy, 344. uncertainty of, 345. Arnold, Dr., quoted, 269. Ascetism, 194. Assimilation and discrimination, different kinds of, 349. Association fibres, 39. Association of ideas, 196. application of, in cultivating the memory, 238, 243. by contiguity, 197, 202. by logic, 198. by similarity, 197, 202, 238. difference between, and judg- ment, 312. difference between mechanical and logical, 198. explanation of the, 205. fundamental law of, 205. illustrated, 196. mechanical, 197. physical basis of, 205. Attention, 103, 130. and discipline, 145. and feeling, 106. and memory, 104. and reasoning, 105. and recollection, 105. and volition, 107. concentrated, 107. conditions of non-voluntary, 118. conditions of voluntary, 112. defined, no. importance of, 107. nonvoluntary, and physical con- dition, 121. novelty a non-voluntary, 119. power of, 137. rules for getting, 130, 39S 396 INDEX. Attention — continued. the will and voluntary, 122. training of, 107. two causes of non-voluntary, 114. very young children incapable of voluntary, 113. voluntary, and interest, 121. voluntary and non-voluntary, 112. voluntary and non-voluntary, necessary, 131. voluntary attention developed by non-voluntary, 115. Authority, beliefs on, 187. Automatic or reflex actions, 44, 49. centres of, 50. Automatic theory, 44. Bagehot, Walter, quoted, 320. Bain, Professor, quoted, 89, 1 13, 1 14, 190, 191. Basis of habit, 188. Batemati, Dr., quoted, 22. Belief and imagination, 265. Beliefs, necessary, 86, 90. Blood, supply of, to the brain, 18. Bodies, knowledge of our, 73. Body and brain, 18. and mind, 16. Books, 144. are only means to ends, 229. Brain and Dody, 18. and mind, 17, 20. area of, 35. correspondence between size and weight of, and intelligence^. cortex of, 35. effect of mental action on the, 1 6. gray and white matter of the, 32. gray matter of the, 55. Greek philosophers' opinion about the, 17. is the organ of the mind, 20. landmarks of the, 36. local disease of, 59. removal of parts of the, of ani- mals, 57. size and weight of, 23. supply of blood to the, 18. weight of, 35. Brown, Thomas, quoted, 203. Carpenter, quoted, 103, 106, 145. Central nervous system, number of nerve cells in the, 26. Centres of automatic action, 50. Cerebellum, 32, 50, 51, 52. Cerebral cortex, 32. Cerebral functions, located in the cortex, 54. localization of, 20. Cerebrum, 32, 35, 45, 53. and intelligence, 53. functions of, 53, 54. injuries of, 53. Character, Dr. Dewey's definition of, 373- Chess-players, blindfolded, 168. Child, experiment upon a, 115. how he distinguishes his body from the rest of the external world, 73. importance of the discovery of the capacity of each, 390. Children, doctrine of apperception shows the necessity of study- ing, 387- importance of the study of, 384. mental life of very young, 113. study of, 84. very young, incapable of volun- tary attention, 113. Children's curiosity, 142. judgments, 316. minds, contents of, 387. reasoning, 340. Comehius, quoted, 13, 39, 131. Commissural fibres, 39. Compayre, quoted, 249. Complexity of knowledge, 334. Concentration of thought, and the will, 123. interfered with, 77. Conception, 273. Concept, abstraction in the, 290, 292. assimilation and discrimination in, 348. changes in, 283. comparison in the, 290, 292. defined, 273, 284. faulty, 285. formation of, 274, 281, 283, 305, 339- INDEX. 397 Concept — continued. generalization in the, 275, 283, 290, 292. perception in the, 305. real and vital, 298. voluntary and involuntary, 285. Concepts, three steps toward the knowledge of, 281. Conclusions, affirmative, 330. true and false, 329. Conditions of non-voluntary atten- tion, 118. of voluntary attention, 112. Conscious knowledge, 97. Consciousness, 17, 98. and the brain, 17. of power, 143. of self, 100. Cortex, 53. and intelligence, 53. and motor fibres, 38. and sensory fibres, 37. a system 01 organs, 37. cerebral functions located in the, 54- experiments upon the, of ani- mals, 56. of the cerebrum closely con- nected with intelligence, 35. stimulation of a definite part of the, 57. Cortical centre, change in, 169. Crow-bar case, American, 20. Curiosity in children, 142. Davidson, Professor, quoted, 127, 250, 381, 382. Deductions, practical, 375. Development, nature of, 4, 364. symmetrical, 365. Dewey, Dr., quoted, 375, 377. on promotion, 377. Dewey's conception and that of the ancient Greeks, 374. definition of character, 373. Discipline and attention, 145. Distinctions of fact and distinctions of worth, 127. Dog, intelligence of, 325. Drawing, 231. and memory of form, 243. Ear, 31. Edinger, quoted, 39. Education and perception, 224. democratic, 383. Huxley, Professor, on, 365. object of, 379. object of, defined, 124, 130. problem of, 227. the end of, 373. value of an, 133. Educational value of geography, 134- of science, 135. Efferent impulses, 48. Effort, 193. Eliot, President, quoted, 370, 383, 390. Emotions, possession of a certain responsiveness of the, 381. Emulation, 160. Energy, muscular, 147. Enthusiasm, power of, 138. Ethics, physiological study of men- tal conditions an ally of, 194. Experiment upon a child, 115. Experiments upon lower animals, 20. upon the cortex of different ani- mals, 56. with the brain, 20. Explanation of the association of ideas, 205. Eye, 31. Facts, psychical, 350. Feeling, 153. and attention, 106. and knowledge, 153. Fiske, John, quoted, 82. Fitch, quoted, 8, 248. Foster, quoted, 44. Fouillee, quoted, 237. Freeman, quoted, 337. Galton, Sir Francis, quoted, 243, 258, 270. Ganglia, large, or optic thalami, 32. Garmo.'Dr. De, quoted, 303, 362. Geography and imagination, 269. educational value of, 134. Green, Professor S. S., quoted, 288, 296. 398 INDEX. Habit, basis of, 188. influence of, 201. law of, 183. Reid, Dr., on, 183. Habits, 184. bad, 185. depend on what we do, 186. moral, 190. of reasoning, 187. Hall, G. Stanley, quoted, 118. Halleck, quoted, 242. Hamilton, Sir William, quoted, 276. Harlow, Dr., quoted, 21. Health and memory, 242. Herbartian conception, 373. steps, 303. Herbartians, their mistake, 158. Hering, Professor E., on the func- tions of the cerebrum, 61. Hoffding, H., on children's judg- ments, 320. Hours of study, 46. Huxley, Professor, on education, 365. Ideas and ideals, 125. difference between, 126. Ideas precede all progress, 293. Image, 255. Imagination, 255, 334, 368. abuse of, 266. and belief, 265. and feelings, 264. and geography, 269. and reading, 270. constructive, 256, 260, 263. defined, 255. different kinds of, 253. in scientific investigation, 268. reproductive, 256. training of, 268. Importance of attention, 107. Impulses, efferent, 48. Inattention, explanation of, 148. Individuality and inattention, 150. Individuals, the study of, 384. Induction, 339. danger in hasty, 342. guiding principle in, 343. Inferences, ethical and pedagogical, 189. Initiative, 190. Injuries of cerebrum, 53. Injury of the brain impairs memory, 22. Intellect, possession of a certain dis- cipline of the, 381. Intellectual activity, 301. Intelligence and cerebrum, 53. and cortex, 53. animal, 324, 325. corresponding to size and weight of brain, 23. Interest and adaptation, 136. and voluntary attention, 121. in our work essential to success, 139- Introspection becomes retrospec- tion, 84. James, Professor, quoted, 23, 42, 58, 62, 189, 224, 325, 368. Jevons, quoted, 344, 345. Judgment, 305. act of, illustrated, 306. conscious, 307. defined, 311. difference between association of ideas and, 312. nature of act of, 310. possible by the laws of associa- tion, 306. Judgments, 351. affirmative and negative, 315. children's, 316. different kinds of, 314. first appearance of conscious, 308. Hoffding, H., on children's, 320. implicit and explicit, 313. of uneducated men, 317. what they relate to, 308. Keen, Dr. W. W., quoted, 59. Kepler, quoted, 135. Knowing, feeling, willing, 152. Knowledge, 209. and feeling, 153. a resultant of sensations, 209. complexity of, 354. conscious knowledge is certain, 97- INDEX. 399 Knowledge — continued. difference between knowledge of necessary truths and con- scious, 97. expert, 382. nature of conscious, 95. need of a criterion of, 5. of laws of nature, 11. of our bodies, 73. possession of a certain kind of, 381. simple, 360. Ladd, Professor, quoted, 23, 237. Language, purposes of, 291. Law of adaptation, 137. Law of association of ideas, funda- mental, 205. Law of habit, 183. in nervous system, 205. is a material law, 193. Law of parsimony, 342. Law, Weber's, 179. Laws of mind, 78. Laws of nature, knowledge of, 11. Leibniz, quoted, 235. Lindner, quoted, III, 235. Localization of mental functions, meaning of, 54. Locke, quoted, 146. Lombard, Dr., quoted, 19. Manning, Archbishop, quoted, 146. Martin, Professor, quoted, 29, 42, 59- Material wholes and thought wholes, 358. Matter, gray and white, of the brain, 32. Mechanical memory, 4, 246, 249. nature of reflex actions, 43. Mechanism of reflex action illus- trated, 45. of voluntary action illustrated, 46. Medulla oblongata, 37, 50, 51. Memory, 4, 234, 368. and attention, 104. and health, 242. assimilation and discrimination in, 347. Memory — continued. different kinds of, 247. elements of, 234. images, 239. impairment of, due to injury of the brain, 22. mechanical, 4, 246, 249. often excellent in the uneducated, 246. physical basis of, 236, 242. powers involved in, 235. remarkable, of Chinamen, 4. universal cultivation of the, 248. Memory culture, 242, 248. by interest, 242, 245. by logic, 243, 251. by visualizing, 243. Mental facts, 173. and physical facts, 72. definition of, 69. in which Psychology is inter- ested, 77. nature of, 74. unconscious, 69, 75. Mental life of very young children, "3- Method, difficulties of the inferen- tial, 82. difficulties of the introspective, S3- the inferential, 79. the inferential, and the study of history, 80. the inferential, and the study of our own minds, 81. the introspective, 79, 86. the objective, 294, 296, 297, 3°3- what we can learn by means of the introspective, 86. Methods, good and bad, 376. the introspective and inferential, serve to study mental facts, 86. to be used in dealing with the mind, 11. used in dealing with objects in the material world, 10. Meynert's postulate, 62. Mill, J. S., quoted, 191. Milton, quoted, 225. 400 INDEX. Mind and body, 1 6. and brain, 17, 20. and soul, no difference between, 68. change in, due to injury of the brain, 21. dealing with the, 1 1. difference between the, and a natural agent, 12. laws of, 78. meaning of, 68. play of the, 300. Mnemonics, 168. Moral habits, 190. Mosso's table, 19. Motor fibres and the cortex, 38. Nature, dealing with, 10. of development, 364. Necessary truths, reasons for study- ing the nature of, 95. Nerve cells, 26. and nerve fibres, 26. forms of, 26. number of, in brain, 26. Nerve centres, function of, 47. Nerve fibres and nerve cells, con- stituents of, 26. functions of, 29. number of sensory, 26. Nerves, 17. afferent and efferent, 30, 34. and tendons, 25. auditory, 31, 165, 169. number of, entering the spinal cord, 34. olfactory, 31. optic, 31, 166. sensory and motor, 41, 171. Nervous impulse, nature of a, 41. Nervous system, central, 25. changes in, not followed by sen- sation, 178. functions of, 28, 41. law of habit in, 205. sensations depend on, 177 the unit of the, 27. Nose, 31. Number of nerve cells in the cen- tral nervous system, 26. of nerve fibres, 26. Object lessons, 232. Objective facts, sounds and colors as, 174. Objective method,. 303. Objects in the material world, meth- ods used in dealing with, 10. Observation, how to cultivate, 228. importance of the training of, 227. powers of, of the North American Indians, 4. Opposition or antagonism of know- ing, feeling, willing, 155. Pain, 96. Parsimony, law of, 342. Pedagogical principle, 358. Pedagogical study, change in, 385. Perception, 208. and education, 224. assimilation and discrimination in, 346. books hinder, 229. by differences, 279. by hearing, 218. by sight, 212, 221. by smell, 212. by taste, 213. by touch, 25, 218, 221. depends upon attention, 104. directions for, 232. sensations translated by, into knowledge, 209. three steps in, 216. Percept and concept, 305. Percepts, 351. Perez, quoted, 278. Pestalozzi, quoted, 14, 148. 292, 293. Pestalozzi's reform, 293. Physical and mental facts, 72. Physical condition and non-volun- tary attention, 121. Physical facts, antecedents of sen- sations are, 165. Physiological Psychology, 16. on localization of functions, 20, 54. 63. on pain, 25. problem of, 61. suggestions of, 367. Physiological study, 194, INDEX. 40I Power, consciousness of, 143. of attention, 137. Premises, different, 332. Preparation for rational living, 379. of object lessons, 232. Preyer, Professor, quoted, 115. Primary teaching, revolution in, 149. Principle, pedagogical, 358. Psychical facts, 350. Psychology and education, 386. and teaching, 9. benefits of, 1. defined, i, 65, 76. interested in certain mental facts, 77- problem of Physiological, 61. reasons for studying, 1, 3. study of, develops power of thought, I. the method of, 77. the subject matter of, 72. Quick, quoted, 160. Rational living, 379. Reasoning, 320, 369. and attention, 105. assimilation and discrimination in, 349. associational, 323. deductive and inductive, 326, 331 . defined, 322. difference between inductive and deductive, 329. from particular to particular, 326. habits of, 187. of children, 321. training of, 336. Recollection and attention, 105. Recollections, 351. Reflex actions, 49. mechanical nature of, 43. Reflexes, acquired, 50. Reid, Dr., on habit, 183. quoted, 258. Relations, ability to apprehend, 389. Ribot, quoted, 236. Romanes, G. J., quoted, 324. Rules for getting attention, 130. for teaching, 130. School lessons, 144. School programmes, 147. Science, educational value of, 135. Sensation, 163. and attention, 103. assimilation and discrimination in, 346. defined, 171. examples of, 169. in amputated limb, 101. of sound, 165. Sensations, 350. antecedents of, 164. characteristics of the first, 210. depend on nervous system, 177. depend upon attention, 103. knowledge a resultant of, 209. knowledge begins with, 208. local qualities of, 218. localized, 217. of sight and seeing, 171. through hearing, 218. through sight, 212, 221. through smell, 212. through taste, 213. through touch, 25, 218, 221. Sense organs, nature of the, 30. Senses, what they tell us of objects,. 212. Sensory fibres and the cortex, 37. Sidgwick, Arthur, quoted, 138. Similarity, association of ideas by, 197, 202, 238. Size and weight of brain, 23. Smell, sensations through, 212. Socrates, quoted, 188. Soul, no difference between, and mind, 68. immortality of, 187. Souls in animals, 65. Spencer, quoted, 382. Spinal cord, 32, 51. number of nerves entering, 34. Study, hours of, 146. Success, conditions of, 8. Sully, James, quoted, 184, 215, 266. Taine, quoted, 168. Tate, quoted, 253. Teaching, 127. and Psychology, 9. 402 INDEX. Teaching — continued. defined, 124. good, 159. nature of, 3. revolution in primary, 149. rules for, 130. Temporal signs, 240. Theory, the automatic, 44. Thought, the study of Psychology develops power of, 1. (See also: Animal Intelligence, Be- lief, Concept, Deduction, In- duction, Judgment, Knowl- edge, Reasoning.) Thought wholes in arithmetic, 359. Thoughts, concentration of, 103. Thring, Edward, quoted, 108, no. Time, idea of, 347. Training of attention, 107. of imagination, 268. Truth, love of, 336. Truths, necessary, 86. necessity of necessary, 90. Unconscious mental facts, 69, 75. Visualizing in training memory, 243- Volition and attention, 107. Volkman on teaching, 159. Voluntary actions, 50. and involuntary concept, 285. andnon-voluntary attention, 112 attention and interest, 121. attention developed by non voluntary attention, 115. reflex and semi-reflex actions, 42. Ward, quoted, 211, 239. Weber's law, 179. Weight of brain, 35. Will, 122. and concentration of thought, 123. and voluntary attention, 122. in developing character, 190. influence of the, upon imagina- tion, 258. possession of a certain training of the, 382. Willing, 153. Wit, 246. Words, blind use of, 292. do not convey thoughts, 288. Wundt, Professor Wilhelm, quoted, 179. Ziehen, Professor Theodor, quoted, 178. Our Own Publications 4-14 Cooper Institute New York City Ethics for High Schools and Academies, $1.00. New Parliamentary Manual. By Edmond Palmer, A.B., instructor in Civics and Economics in the Englewood High School, Chicago. A manual designed to be used as a text book in high schools and colleges. 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Already in its seventh edition. $1,50. Commencement Parts. "Efforts" for all occasions. Orations, addresses, valedictories, salutatories, class poems, class mottoes, after-dinner speeches, flag days, national holidays, class-day exercises. Models for every possible occasion in high-school and college career, every one of the " ef- forts" being what some fellow has stood on his feet and actually delivered on a similar occasion— not what the compiler would say if he should happen to be called on for an ivy song or a response to a toast, or what not ; but what the fellow himself, when his turn" came, did say ! Invaluable, indispensable to those preparing any kind of "effort." Unique. $1,50, New Dialogues and Plays. Life-like episodes from popular authors like Stevenson, Crawford, Mark Twain, Dickens, Scott, in the form of simple plays, with every detail explained as to dress, make-up, uten- sils, furniture, etc. For schoolroom or parlor. $ J.50. Dictionaries : The Classic Series. Half morocco. Espe- cially planned for students and teachers in colleges and high schools. Up to the times in point of contents, authoritative while modern as regards scholarship instantly accessible in respect to arrange- ment, of best quality as to typography and paper, and in a binding at once elegant and durable. 8x5^ in. French-English and English-French Dictionary, 1122 pages $2.00. German-English and English -German Dictionary. 1112 pages $2.00. Latin-English and English-Latin Dictionary. 941 pages. $2.00. ■ Greek-English and English-Greek Dictionary 1056 pages. $2.00. English-Greek Dictionary. Price $1 00. Dictionaries: The Handy Series. "Scholarship modern and accurate ; and really beautiful print. " Pocket Edition Spanish-English and Eng.-Span., 474 pages. $1.00 Italian-English and Eng.-Ital., 428 pages. $1.00. New Testament Lexicon. Entirely new and up-to-date. With a fine presentation of the Synonyms of the Greek Testament $:.oo, Liddell & Scott's Abridged Greek Lexicon. With new Appendix of Proper and Geographical names. $J,20. White's Latin-English Dictionary. $1.20. White's English-Latin Dictionary. $1.20. White's Latin-English and Eng.-Lat. Dictionary. $2.25. Completely Parsed Caesar, and Vergil. See other page. Shortest Road to Caesar. Successful elem'y method. 75c, Caesar's Idioms. Complete with Eng. equivalents. 25c. Cicero's Idioms. As found in '' Cicero's Orations.'' 25c Brooks' Historia Sacra, with First Latin Lessons. Revised, with Vocabulary. Price 50 cts. This justly popular volume, besides the Epitome Historise Sacrae, the Notes, and the Vocabulary, contains too pages of elementary Latin Lessons, enabling the teacher to carry the pupil quickly and in easy steps over the ground preparatory to the Epitome Historian Sacra?. Brooks' First Lessons in Greek, with Lexicon Revised Edition. Covering sufficient ground to enable the student to read the New Testament in the Greek. 50c. Brooks' New Virgil's Aeneid, with Lexicon. Revised Edition. Notes, Metrical Index, Map, Questions for Examinations. $1.50. Brooks' New Ovid's Metamorphoses, with Lexicon. Expurgated and adapted for mixed classes. With Questions. $1.50. Interlinear Translations. Classic Series. Cloth. 16 vol- umes. $1.50 per volume. Caesar. Cicero's Orations. Enlarged Edition. Cicero on Old Age and Friendship. Cornelius Nepos. Horace, complete. Livy. Books XXI and XXII. Ovid's Metamorphoses, complete. Sallust's Catiline, and Jugurthine War. Virgil's jEneid. First Six Books Revised. Virgil's .lEneid. Complete, the Twelve Books. Virgil's Eclogues, Georgics