b'1 \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY \nAND LIFE \n\n\n\nBY \n\n\n\nHUGO MUNSTERBERG \n\nIt \n\nPROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY \n\n\n\n\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK \n\nHOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY \n\nGLty fitajstoe $re#\xc2\xa3, Cambridge \n\n1899 \n\n\n\n<typ \n\n\n\n\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1899, BY HUGO MUNSTERBERG \nALL RIGHTS RESERVED \n\n\n\nTWO CQP L . .iV\xc2\xa3D f \n\n\n\n\n\n\nAPR 2 11899 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTO \n\nMY OLD FRIEND \n\nHEINRICH RICKERT \n\nPROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY \n\nOF FREIBURG (BREISGAU) \n\n\n\nPREFACE \n\nThe following volume contains six essays \nwhich have been brought before the public dur- \ning the last year at very different opportunities. \nThe paper on History was delivered as the presi- \ndential address before the New York meeting \nof the American Psychological Association, and \nwas published in the " Psychological Review." \nThat on Education was read before the Harvard \nTeachers\' Association at their last Cambridge \nmeeting and printed in the "Educational Re- \nview." The essay on Physiology is an exten- \nsion of a paper read before the American Phy- \nsiological Society in New York, and has not as \nyet been published. The three other papers \nappeared in the " Atlantic Monthly." That on \nMysticism was read before the Buffalo meeting \nof the Unitarian Ministers\' Institute, and before \nthe Philosophical Department of Princeton Uni- \nversity ; that on Art was written for the Detroit \nmeeting of the American Drawing - Teachers\' \nAssociation, and that on Real Life was an ad- \n\n\n\nvi PREFACE \n\ndress to Wellesley College. Two other papers \non educational problems which I have also pub- \nlished during the last year in the " Atlantic \nMonthly " series, the one under the title " The \nDanger from Experimental Psychology/\' and the \nother " The Teacher and the Laboratory/\' are \nnot reprinted here because the one was chiefly \nthe criticism of a book and the other a rejoinder \nto an attack, but they may be mentioned here \nas supplementary interpretations of my educa- \ntional views. \n\nWhile the six essays were thus presented at \nfirst to very various audiences, this book is in no \nway a chance collection of disconnected pieces. \nThe contrary is true. They represent six chap- \nters of a book which was from the first planned \nas a unity, and the separate publication of the \nspecial parts is merely accidental. The group \nshould decidedly be taken as a whole. One \nfundamental thought controls the book, and \neach essay leads only from a different point to \nthe same central conviction. \n\nThis chief aim is the separation of the con- \nceptions of psychology from the conceptions of \nour real life. Popular ideas about psychology \nsuggest that the psychological description and \nexplanation of mental facts expresses the reality \n\n\n\nPREFACE vii \n\nof our inner experience. It is a natural con- \nsequence of such a view that our ethical and \naesthetical, our practical and educational, our \nsocial and historical views are subordinated \nto the doctrines of psychology. These papers \nendeavor to show that psychology is not at \nall an expression of reality, but a complicated \ntransformation of it, worked out for special logi- \ncal purposes in the service of our life. Psycho- \nlogy is thus a special abstract construction which \nhas a right to consider everything from its own \nimportant standpoint, but which has nothing to \nassert in regard to the interpretation and appre- \nciation of our real freedom and duty, our real \nvalues and ideals. The aim is thus a limitation \nof that psychology which wrongly proclaims its \nresults as a kind of philosophy ; but this limita- \ntion, which makes the traditional conflicts with \nidealistic views impossible, gives at the same \ntime to the well-understood psychology an abso- \nlute freedom in its own field, and the whole \neffort is thus as much in the service of psycho- \nlogy itself as in the service of the rights of life. \nA scientific synthesis of the ethical idealism with \nthe physiological psychology of our days is thus \nmy purpose. Every unscientific and unphilo- \nsophical synthesis remains there necessarily an \n\n\n\nviii PREFACE \n\ninsincere compromise in which science sacrifices \nits consistency and idealism sacrifices its beliefs ; \nit is the task of true synthesis to show how the \none includes the other, and how every conflict is \na misunderstanding. \n\nThe first paper gives the fundamental tone \nand characterizes the problem of the whole book. \nThe second paper, on Physiology, develops the \nreal functions of a scientific psychology, and \ndefends its absolute freedom in the consistent \nconstruction of theories of mind and brain. The \nfollowing three papers show in three important \ndirections, in art, education, and history, how \nsuch a consistent psychology, even though most \nradical, cannot interfere with the conceptions and \ncategories which belong to the activities of life \nand to their historical aspect. The last paper \nfinally makes a test for this separation, showing \nthat just as psychology is not to interfere with \nthe conceptions of life, these latter must not \ninterfere with the conceptions of psychology ; \nwherever this happens, the scientific aspect of \nmental life goes over into mysticism. \n\nThe isolated appearance of the different essays \nhas made it necessary that each could be under- \nstood alone without presupposing the knowledge \nof the foregoing papers; frequent repetitions \n\n\n\nPREFACE ix \n\nwere thus unavoidable. It would have been \neasy to eliminate these in reprinted f orm, and to \nlink the papers so that each should presuppose \nacquaintance with the preceding parts. But I \nhave finally decided not to change anything and \nto publish them again in a form in which every \npaper can be understood for itself, because I \nthink that in a subject so difficult and so antago- \nnistic to the popular view the chief points of \nthe discussion can have impressive effect only if \nthey are brought out repeatedly, always in new \nconnections and from new points of view. They \nmay be clear, perhaps, at a first reading, but \nmay become convincing only when they are \nreached from the most different starting-points. \nIf the axe does not strike the same spot several \ntimes, the tree will not fall. \n\nIt may appear still less excusable that when- \never I have had to return to the same points, I \nhave made use of the same expressions like \nstereotyped phrases. The effect would have \nbeen of course much prettier if I had applied \na rich variety instead of such a monotony of \nterms. But it seems to me that in such compli- \ncated problems exactness and sharpness of the \ntechnical terms is the condition for clearness and \nconsistency, which cannot be replaced by a more \n\n\n\nx PREFACE \n\nor less sesthetical enjoyment. I do not want to \nentertain by these papers, I want to fight; to \nfight against dangers which I see in our public \nlife and our education, in art and science ; and \nonly those who intend serious and consistent \nthought ought to take up this unamusing book. \nI say frankly, therefore, that this little volume \nis not written for those who kindly take an \ninterest in the psychological discussions of the \nessays, but do not care for the philosophical part \nwhich belongs to every one. For such readers \nmuch more attractive treatises on the new psy- \nchology are abundant. And there is a second \ngroup of possible readers to whom also I should \nseal the little book if I had the power. I refer \nto those who heartily agree with my general \nconclusion that no conflict between science and \nthe demands of life exists, but who base this \nattitude merely on feeling and emotion, and who \nthus dread the indirect method of abstract con- \nceptions, all the more since they are not troubled \nby a demand for consistency in science. I have \nnothing in common with them ; I am not a mis- \nsionary of the Salvation Army. And, finally, \nI must warn still a third group whose exist- \nence I should not have suspected if it had not \nshown most vehement symptoms of life after the \n\n\n\nPREFACE xi \n\npublication of some of my " Atlantic Monthly " \npapers. I have in mind those who consider a \ncritical examination of the rights and limits of a \nscience as an attack against that science, instead \nof seeing that it is the chief condition for a \nsounJ and productive growth ; the triumph \nthrough confusion is in the long run never a real \ngain for a science. Those who, perhaps with \nanger, perhaps with delight, consider my warn- \ning against a dangerous misuse of psychology, \npedagogy, and so on, as an onslaught against \npsychology or pedagogy itself, certainly mis- \nunderstand my intentions. \n\nFinally, I wish to express my thanks to the \nAssistant in the Psychological Laboratory of \nRadcliffe College, Miss Ethel Puffer, for the \nrevision of my manuscript, and to the Assistant \nin the Psychological Laboratory of Harvard Uni- \nversity, Dr. Robert MacDougall, for the revision \nof the proofs. It is needless to say that in \nspite of their helpful retouching of my language, \nthe whole cast shows the style of the foreigner \nwho is a beginner in the use of English, and \nwho must thus seriously ask for the indulgence \n\nof the reader. \n\nHugo Munsterberg. \n\nHarvard University, February, 1899. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS \n\n\n\nPAGE \n\nPsychology and Life 1-34 \n\n1. The standpoint of naturalism .... 1 \n\nThe psychological view of personality . . 4 \n\nThe psychological view of life and duty . . 9 \n\nThe standpoint of reality 15 \n\nThe idealistic view of life 23 \n\nThe idealistic view of psychology ... 28 \nPsychology and Physiology .... 35-99 \n\n1. Hopes and fears from physiological psychology . 35 \n\nThe empirical relations between mind and brain 40 \n\nThe description of mental facts .... 44 \n\nThe explanation of mental facts ... 53 \n\nThe physiological explanation of mental facts . 60 \n\nThe usefulness of the psychophysical functions . 68 \nThe biological development of the psychophysical \n\napparatus \n\nMistakes of association and apperception \n\nries \n\n9. The advantages of an action theory \nPsychology and Education .... 100 \n1. The teaching of psychology . \n\nPsychology of the child .... \nMethods and limits of child psychology \nChild psychology, experimental psychology. \n\nsiological psychology 121 \n\nThe value of psychology for the teacher . . 128 \n\nThe value of psychology for pedagogy . . . 135 \n\nPsychology and Art 145-178 \n\n1. The artist as psychologist 145 \n\n2. The psychical causes of the work of art . . 152 \n\n3. The psychical effects of the work of art . . 157 \n\n4. Drawing instruction in schools .... 163 \n\n\n\ntheo- \n\n\n\n74 \n\n81 \n91 \n-144 \n100 \n106 \n112 \n\n\n\nphy- \n\n\n\nCONTENTS \n\n\n\nThe psychological aspect and the reality \n\nThe philosophical aspect of art and art instruc- \n\n\n\n169 \n\n\n\ntion \n\n\n\nv Psychology and History .... \n\n1. The idealistic tendencies of our time \n\n2. Laws and special facts \n\n3. Description and explanation . \n\n4. The real subjects .... \n\n5. Science and art .... \n\n6. The causal and the teleological aspects \n\n7. The task of history \n\n8. History and causality \n\n9. History and the normative sciences \nPsychology and Mysticism \n\n1. The psychological claims of mysticism \nThe scientific aspect .... \nHypnotic suggestion \nChristian science and mind cure \nDouble consciousness . \nExamination of the claimed facts \nThe mechanical and the emotional view \n\n\n\n. 174 \n\n179-228 \n. 179 \n\n185 \n. 191 \n\n195 \n. 200 \n\n205 \n. 210 \n\n217 \n\n. 223 \n\n229-282 \n\n. 229 \n\n234 \n. 239 \n\n244 \n. 249 \n\n253 \n. 262 \n\n\n\n9. \n\n\n\nThe emotional categories applied to psychophysi- \ncal processes 269 \n\nTelepathy and spiritualism ; immortality . . 275 \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\n\n\nThe world of science and learning, as well as \nthe social world, has its alternating seasons and \nits capricious fashions. Mathematics and phi- \nlosophy, theology and physics, philology and his- \ntory, each has had its great time ; each was once \nfavored both by the leaders of knowledge and \nby the crowd of imitating followers. The nine- \nteenth century, which began with high philo- \nsophical inspirations, has turned decidedly toward \nnatural science ; the description of the universe \nby dissolving it into atomistic elements, and the \nexplanation of it by natural laws without regard \nfor the meaning and value of the world, has \nbeen the scientific goal. But this movement \ntoward naturalistic dissolution has also gone \nthrough several phases. It started with the \nrapid development of physics and chemistry, \nwhich brought as a practical result the wonderful \ngifts of technique. From the inorganic world \nscientific interest turned toward the organic \nworld. For a few decades, physiology, the science \n\n\n\n2 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nof the living organism, enjoyed an almost unsur- \npassed development, and brought as its practical \noutcome modern medicine. From the functions \nof the single organism public interest has been \ndrawn to the problems of the evolution of the \norganic world as a whole. Darwinism has in- \nvaded the educated quarters, and its practical \nconsequence has been rightly or wrongly a revo- \nlution against dogmatic traditions. \n\nFinally, the interests of the century have gone \na step farther, \xe2\x80\x94 the last step which naturalism \ncan take. If the physical and the chemical, the \nphysiological and the biological world, in short \nthe whole world of outer experience, is atomized \nand explained, there remains only the world of \ninner experience, the world of the conscious \npersonality, to be brought under the views of \nnatural science. The period of psychology, of \nthe natural science of the mental life, began. \nIt dawned ten, perhaps fifteen years ago, and \nwe are living in the middle of it. No Edison \nand no Roentgen can make us forget that the \ngreat historical time of physics and physiology is \ngone ; psychology takes the central place in the \nthought of our time, and overflows into all \nchannels of our life. It began with an analysis \nof simple ideas and feelings, and it has de- \nveloped to an insight into the mechanism of the \nhighest acts and emotions, thoughts and crea- \ntions. It started by studying the mental life \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 3 \n\nof the individual, and it has rushed forward to \nthe psychical organization of society, to social \npsychology, to the psychology of art and science, \nreligion and language, history and law. It be- \ngan with an increased carefulness of self-obser- \nvation, and it has developed to an experimental \nscience, with the most elaborate methods of tech- \nnique, and with scores of great laboratories in \nits service. It started in the narrow circles of \nphilosophers, and it is now at home wherever \nmental life is touched. The historian strives to- \nday for psychological explanation, the economist \nfor psychological laws; jurisprudence looks on \nthe criminal from a psychological standpoint; \nmedicine emphasizes the psychological value of \nits assistance; the realistic artist and poet fight \nfor psychological truth ; the biologist mixes psy- \nchology in his theories of evolution ; the philolo- \ngist explains the languages psychologically ; and \nwhile aesthetical criticism systematically coquets \nwith psychology, pedagogy seems ready even to \nmarry her. \n\nAs the earlier stages of naturalistic interests, \nthe rush toward physics, physiology, biology, \nwere each, as we have seen, of characteristic \ninfluence on the practical questions of real life, \nit is a matter of course that this highest and \nmost radical type of naturalistic thinking, the \nnaturalistic dissolution of mental life, must stir \nup and even revolutionize the whole practical \n\n\n\n4 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nworld. From the nursery to the university, from \nthe hospital to the court of justice, from the \ntheatre to the church, from the parlor to the \nparliament, the new influence of psychology on \nthe real daily life is felt in this country as in \nEurope, producing new hopes and new fears, \nnew schemes and new responsibilities. \n\nLet us consider the world we live in, from the \npoint of view of this new creed. What becomes \nof the universe and what of the human race, \nwhat becomes of our duty and what of our \nfreedom, what becomes of our friends and what \nof ourselves, if psychology is not only true, but \nthe only truth, and has to determine the values \nof our real life ? \n\nII \n\nWhat is our personality, seen from the psy- \nchological point of view? We separate the \nconsciousness and the content of consciousness. \nFrom the standpoint of psychology, \xe2\x80\x94 I mean a \nconsistent psychology, not a psychology that \nlives by all kinds of compromises with philosophy \nand ethics, \xe2\x80\x94 from the standpoint of psychology \nthe consciousness itself is in no way a person- \nality ; it is only an abstraction from the totality \nof conscious facts, \xe2\x80\x94 an abstraction just as the \nconception of nature is abstracted from the na- \ntural physical objects. Consciousness does not \ndo anything; consciousness is only the empty \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 5 \n\nplace for the manif oldness of psychical facts ; it \nis the mere presupposition making possible the \nexistence of the content of consciousness, but \nevery thought and feeling and volition must be \nitself such a content of consciousness. Person- \nality, too, is thus a content ; it is the central \ncontent of our consciousness, and psychology \ncan show in a convincing way how this funda- \nmental idea grows and influences the develop- \nment of mental life. We know how the whole \nidea of personality crystallizes about those tac- \ntual and muscular and optical sensations which \ncome from the body ; how at first the child does \nnot discriminate his own limbs from the outside \nobjects he sees ; and how slowly the experiences, \nthe pains, the successes, which connect them- \nselves with the movements and contacts of this \none body, blur into the idea of that central \nobject, our physical personality, into which the \nmental experiences become gradually introjected. \nPsychology shows how this idea of the Ego \ngrows ste;adily side by side with the idea of the \nAlter, and how it associates with itself the whole \nmanifoldness of personal achievements and ex- \nperiences. Psychology shows how it develops \ntoward a sociological personality, appropriating \neverything which works in the world under the \ncontrol of our will, in the interest of our influ- \nence, just as our body works, including thus our \nname and our clothing, our friends and our work, \n\n\n\n6 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nour property and our social community. Psy- \nchology shows how, on the other hand, this idea \ncan shrink and expel everything which is not \nessential for the continuity of this central group \nof psychical contents. Our personality does not \ndepend upon our chance knowledge and chance \nsensations; it remains, once formed, if we lose \neven our arms and legs with their sensations; \nand thus the personality becomes that most \ncentral group of psychical contents which ac- \ncompany the transformation of experiences into \nactions; that is, feelings and will. Thus psy- \nchology demonstrates a whole scale of personali- \nties in every one of us, \xe2\x80\x94 the psychological one, \nthe sociological one, the ideal one ; but each one \nis and can be only a group of psychical contents, \na bundle of sensational elements. It : s an idea \nwhich is endlessly more complicated, but theo- \nretically not otherwise constituted, than the \nidea of our table or our house ; just as, from \nthe point of view of chemistry, the isubstance \nwhich we call a human body is theoretically not \notherwise constituted than any other physical \nthing. The influence of the idea of personality \nmeans psychologically, then, its associative and \ninhibitory effects on the mechanism of the other \ncontents of consciousness, and the unity and \ncontinuity of the personality mean that causal \nconnection of its parts by which anything that \nhas once entered our psychical life may be at \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 7 \n\nany time reproduced, and may help to change \nthe associative effects which come from the idea \nof ourselves. \n\nHas this psychological personality freedom of \nwill? Certainly. Everything depends in this \ncase upon the definitions, and the psychologist \ncan easily construct a conception of freedom \nwhich is in the highest degree realized in the \npsychophysical organism and its psychological \nexperiences. Freedom of will means to him \nabsence of an outer force, or of pathological \ndisturbance in the causation of our actions. We \nare f r 3e, as our actions are not the mere outcome \nof conditions which lie outside of our organism, \nbut tne product of our own motives and their \nnormal connections. All our experiences and \nthoughts, our inherited dispositions and trained \nhabits, our hopes and fears, cooperate in our \nconsciousness and in its physiological substratum, \nour brain, to bring about the action. Under \nthe same outer conditions, somebody else would \nhave acted otherwise ; or we ourselves should \nhave preferred and done something else, if our \nmemory or our imagination or our reason had \nfurnished some other associations. The act is \nours, we are responsible, we could have stopped \nit; and only those are unfree, and therefore \nirresponsible, who are passive sufferers from an \nouter force, or who have no normal mental \nmechanism for the production of their action, a \n\n\n\n8 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\npsychophysical disturbance which comes as a \nkind of outer force to paralyze the organism, be \nit alcohol or poison, hypnotism or brain disease, \nwhich comes as an intruder to inhibit the regular \nfree play of the motives. \n\nOf course, if we should ask the psychologist \nwhether this unfree and that free action stand \nin different relations to the psychological and \nphysiological laws, he would answer only with a \nsmile. To think that freedom of will means in- \ndependence of psychological laws is to him an \nabsurdity; our free action is just as much de- \ntermined by laws, and psychologically just as \nnecessary, as the irresponsible action of the hyp- \nnotized or of the maniacal subject. That the \nwhole world of mental facts is determined by \nlaws, and that therefore in the mental world \njust as little as in the physical universe do won- \nders happen, is the necessary presupposition of \npsychology, which it does not discuss, but takes \nfor granted. If the perceptions, associations, \nfeelings, emotions, and dispositions are all given, \nthe action must necessarily happen as it does. \nThe effect is absolutely determined by the com- \nbination of causes ; only the effect is a free \none, because those causes lay within us. To be \nsure, those causes and motives in us have them- \nselves causes, and these deeper causes may not \nlie in ourselves. We have not ourselves chosen \nall the experiences of our lives ; we did not our- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 9 \n\nselves pick out the knowledge with which our \nearly instruction provided us ; we have not our- \nselves created those brain dispositions and talents \nand tendencies which form in us decisions and \nactions. Thus the causes refer to our ancestors, \nour teachers and the surrounding conditions of \nsociety, and with the causes must the responsi- \nbility be pushed backwards. The unhealthy \nparents, and not the immoral children, are re- \nsponsible ; the unfitted teacher, and not the mis- \nbehaving pupil, should be blamed ; society, and \nnot the criminal, is guilty. To take it in its \nmost general meaning, the cosmical elements, \nwith their general laws, and not we single mor- \ntals, are the fools ! \n\nIll \n\nThe actions of personalities form the substance \nof history. Whatever men have created by their \nwill in politics and social relations, in art and \nscience, in technics and law, is the object of the \nhistorian\'s interest. What that all means, seen \nthrough the spectacles of psychology, is easily \ndeduced. The historical material is made up \nof will functions of personalities; personalities \nare special groups of psychophysical elements; \nfree-will functions are necessary products of the \nforegoing psychophysical conditions ; history, \ntherefore, is the report about a large series of \ncausally determined psychophysical processes \n\n\n\n10 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nwhich happened to occur. But it is a matter \nof course that the photographic and phono- \ngraphic copy of raw material does not constitute \na science. Science has everywhere to go for- \nward from the single unconnected data to the \ngeneral relations and connections. Consequently, \nhistory as a scientific undertaking is not satisfied \nwith the kinematographic view of all the mental \nprocesses which ever passed through human \nbrains, but it presses toward general connection, \nand the generalizations for single processes are \nthe causal laws which underlie them. The aim \nof history, then, must be to find the constant \npsychological laws which control the develop- \nment of nations and races, and which produce \nthe leader and the mob, the genius and the \ncrowd, war and peace, progress and social dis- \neases. The great economic and climatic factors \nin the evolution of the human race come into \nthe foreground; the single individual and the \nsingle event disappear from sight ; the extraor- \ndinary man becomes the extreme case of the \naverage crowd, produced by a chance combi- \nnation of dispositions and conditions; genius \nand insanity begin to touch each other ; nothing \nis new ; the same conditions bring again and \nagain the same effects in new masks and gowns ; \nhistory, with all its branches, becomes a vast de- \npartment of social psychology. \n\nBut if the free actions of historical per- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 11 \n\nsonalities are the necessarily determined func- \ntions of psychophysical organisms, what else are \nand can be the norms and laws which these per- \nsonalities obey? Certainly, the question which \nsuch laws answer, the question what ought to \nbe, does not coincide with the question what is ; \nbut even that " ought " exists only as a psychical \ncontent in the consciousness of men, as a con- \ntent which attains the character of a command \nonly by its associative and inhibitory relations to \nour feelings and emotions. In short, it is a \npsychical content which may be characterized by \nspecial effects on the psychological mechanism of \nassociations and actions, but which is theoreti- \ncally coordinated to every other psychical idea, \nand which grows and varies, therefore, in human \nminds, under the same laws of adaptation and \ninheritance and tradition as every other mental \nthing. Our ethical laws are, then, the necessary \nproducts of psychological laws, changing with \nclimate and race and food and institutions, types \nof action desirable for the conservation of the \nsocial organism. And just the same must be \ntrue for sesthetical and even for logical rules \nand laws. Natural processes have in a long \nevolutionary development produced brains which \nconnect psychological facts in a useful corre- \nspondence to the surrounding physical world ; \nan apparatus which connects psychical facts in \na way which misleads in the outer physical \n\n\n\n12 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nworld is badly adapted, and must be lost in \nthe struggle for existence. Logical laws are, \nthen, just so many types of useful psychical pro- \ncesses, depending upon the psychophysical laws, \nand changing with the conditions and complica- \ntions of life. \n\nThe psychologist will add : Do not feel wor- \nried by that merely psychological origin of all \nour inner laws. Is not their final goal also in \nany case only the production of a special psy- \nchophysical state ? What else can our thinking \nand feeling and acting strive for than to pro- \nduce a mental state of agreeable character ? We \nthink logically because the result is useful for \nus ; that is, secures the desired agreeable, prac- \ntical ends. We seek beauty because we enjoy \nbeautiful creations of art and nature. We act \nmorally because we wish to give to others also \nthat happiness which we desire for ourselves. \nIn short, the production of the psychological \nstates of delight and enjoyment in us and others, \nand the reduction of the opposite mental states \nof pain and sorrow, are the only aim and goal of \na full, sound life. Were all the disagreeable \nfeelings in human consciousness replaced by \nhappy feelings, one psychological content thus \nreplaced by another, heaven would be on earth. \n\nBut psychology can go one more step for- \nward. We know what life means to it, but \nwhat does the world mean ? What is its meta- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 13 \n\nphysical credo ? There need not be much specu- \nlative fight about it. All who understand the \nnecessary premises of psychology ought to agree \nas to the necessary conclusions. Psychology \nstarts with the presupposition that all objects \nwhich have existence in the universe are physical \nor psychical, objects in matter or objects in con- \nsciousness. Other objects are not perceivable \nby us, and therefore do not exist. To come \nfrom this to a philosophical insight into the ulti- \nmate reality, we must ask whether these physical \nand psychical facts are equally true. To doubt \nthat anything at all exists is absurd, as such \na thought shows already that at least thoughts \nexist. The question is, then, only whether both \nphysical and psychical facts are real, or physical \nonly, or psychical only. The first view is philo- \nsophical dualism; the second is materialistic \nmonism ; and the third is spiritualistic monism. \nPsychology cannot hesitate long. What ab- \nsurdity to believe in materialism, or even in \ndualism, as it is clear that in the last reality all \nmatter is given to us only as idea in our con- \nsciousness ! We may see and touch and hear \nand smell the physical world, but whatever we \nsee we know only as our visual sensations, and \nwhat we touch is given to us as our tactual sen- \nsations ; in short, we have an absolute knowledge \nwhich no philosophical criticism can shake, only \nin our own sensations and other contents of con- \n\n\n\n14 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nsciousness. Physical things may be acknow- \nledged as a practical working hypothesis for the \nsimple explanation of the order of our sensations, \nbut the philosophical truth must be that our psy- \nchical facts alone are certain, and therefore un- \ndoubtedly real. \n\nOnly our mind-stuff is real. Yet I have no \nright to call it " ours," as those other per- \nsonalities whom I perceive exist also only as my \nperceptions ; they are philosophically all in my \nown consciousness, which I never can transcend. \nBut have I still the right to call that my con- \nsciousness ? An I has a meaning only where a \nThou is granted ; where no Alter is there cannot \nbe an Ego. The real world is, therefore, not \nmy consciousness, but an absolutely impersonal \nconsciousness in which a series of psychical states \ngoes on in succession. Have I the right to call it \na succession ? Succession presupposes time, but \nwhence do I know about time ? The past and \nthe future are given to me, of course, only by \nmy present thinking of them. I do not know \nthe past ; I know only that I at present think \nthe past ; the present thought is, then, the only \nabsolutely real thing. But if there is no past \nand no future, to speak of a present has no \nmeaning. The real psychical fact is without \ntime as without personality; it is for nobody, \nfor no end, and with no value. That is the last \nword of a psychology which pretends to be \nphilosophy. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 15 \n\nIV \n\nNow let us return to our starting-point : are \nwe really obliged to accept this view of the \nworld as the last word of the knowledge of our \ncentury? Can our historical and political, our \nethical and aesthetical, our logical and philosoph- \nical thinking, \xe2\x80\x94 in short, can the world of our \nreal practical life be satisfied with such a credo ? \nAnd if we wish to escape it, is it true that we \nhave to deny in our conscience all that the cen- \ntury calls learning and knowledge ? Is it true \nthat only a mysterious belief can overcome such \npositivistic misery, and that we have to accept \nthus the most anti-philosophical attitude toward \nthe world which exists ; that is, a mixture of \npositivism and mysticism ? \n\nTo be sure, we cannot, no, we cannot be satis- \nfied with that practical outcome of psychology, \nwith those conclusions about the final character \nof personality and freedom, about history and \nlogic and ethics, about man and the universe. \nEvery fibre in us revolts, every value in our real \nlife rejects such a construction. We do not feel \nourselves such conglomerates of psychophysical \nelements, and the men whom we admire and con- \ndemn, love and hate, are for us not identical with \nthose combinations of psychical atoms which pull \nand push one another after psychological laws. \nWe do not mean, with our responsibility and \n\n\n\n16 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nwith our freedom in the moral world, that our \nconsciousness is the passive spectator of psycho- \nlogical processes which go on causally determined \nby laws, satisfied that some of the causes are \ninside of our skull, and not outside. The child \nis to us in real life no vegetable which has to be \nraised like tomatoes, and the criminal is no weed \nwhich does not feel that it destroys the garden. \n\nDoes history really mean for us what psycho- \nlogical and economical and statistical laws put in \nits place? Are " heroism" and " hero-worship" \nempty words? Have Kant and Fickte, Carlyle \nand Emerson, really nothing to say any more, \nand are Comte and Buckle our only apostles? \nDo we mean, in speaking of Napoleon and Wash- \nington, Newton and Goethe, those complicated \nchemical processes which the physiologist sees in \ntheir life, and those accompanying psychical pro- \ncesses which the psychologist enumerates between \ntheir birth and their death ? Do we really still \nthink historically, if we consider the growth of \nthe nations and this gigantic civilization on earth \nas the botanist studies the growth of the mould \nwhich covers a rotten apple ? Is it really only a \ndifference of complication ? \n\nBut worse things are offered to our belief. \nWe are asked not only to consider all that the \npast has brought as the necessary product of \npsychological laws, but also to believe that all \nwe are striving and working for, all our life\'s \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 17 \n\nfight, \xe2\x80\x94 it may be the noblest one, \xe2\x80\x94 means \nnothing else than the production of some psy- \nchological states of mind, of some feelings of \nagreeableness ; in short, that the tickling sensa- \ntions are the ideal goal of our life. The great- \nest possible happiness of the greatest possible \nnumber, that discouraging phrase in which the \nwhole vulgarity of a naturalistic century seems \ncondensed, is it really the source of inspiration \nfor an ideal soul, and does our conscience really \nlook out for titillation in connection with a ma- \njority vote ? \n\nIf you repeat again and again that there are \nonly relative laws, no absolute truth and beauty \nand morality, that they are changing products \nof the outer conditions without binding power, \nyou contradict yourself by the assertion. Do \nyou not demand already for your skeptical denial \nthat at least this denial itself is an absolute \ntruth ? And when you discuss it, and stand for \nyour conviction that there is no morality, does \nnot this involve your acknowledgment of the \nmoral law to stand for one\'s conviction ? If you \ndo not acknowledge that, you allow the infer- \nence that you yourself do not believe that which \nyou stand for, and that you know, therefore, \nthat an absolute morality does exist. Psycho- \nlogical skepticism contradicts itself by its pre- \ntensions ; there is a\' truth, a beauty, a morality, \nwhich is independent of psychological condi- \n\n\n\n18 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\ntions. When such ideal duties penetrate our \nlife, we cannot rest at last in a psychological \nmetaphysics where the universe is an impersonal \ncontent of consciousness ; and every straightfor- \nward man, to whom the duties of his real life \nare no sounding brass, speaks with a calm voice \nto the psychologist : There are more things in \nheaven and earth than are dreamt of in your \nphilosophy. \n\nIs there really no possible combination of these \ntwo attitudes? Certainly such combination is not \ngiven by an inconsistent compromise. If we say \nto the intellect, Go on with your analyzing and \nexplaining psychology, but stop halfway, before \nyou come to practical acting; and say to our \nfeeling and conscience, Go on with your noble \nlife, but do not try to think about it, for all your \nvalues would show themselves as a poor illusion ; \nthen there remains only one thing doubtful, \nwhether the conscience or the intellect is in the \nmore pitiful state. Thinking that is too faint- \nhearted to act, and acting that is ashamed to \nthink, are a miserable pair who cannot live to- \ngether through a real life. No such coward \ncompromise comes here in question, and still less \ndo we accept the position that the imperfectness \nof the sciences of to-day must be the comfort of \nour conscience. \n\nThe combination of the two attitudes is possi- \nble ; more than that, it is necessary in the right \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 19 \n\ninterests of both sides, as the whole apparent \ncontradiction rests on an entire misunderstand- \ning. It is not psychology that contradicts the \ndemands of life, but the misuse of psychology. \nPsychology has the right and the duty to con- \nsider everything from the psychological stand- \npoint, but life and history, ethics and philosophy, \nhave neither the duty nor the right to accept \nas a picture of reality the impression which is \nreached from the psychological standpoint. \n\nWe have asked the question whether the psy- \nchical objects or the physical objects, or both, \nrepresent the last reality ; we saw that dualistic \nrealism and materialism decided for the last two \ninterpretations, while psychology voted for the \nfirst. It seems that one of these three decisions \nmust be correct, and just here is the great mis- \nunderstanding. No, all three are equally wrong \nand worthless ; a fourth alone is right, which \nsays that neither the physical objects nor the \npsychical objects represent reality, but both are \nideal constructions of the subject, both deduced \nfrom the reality which is no physical object, no \npsychical object, and even no existing object at \nall, as the very conception of an existing object \nmeans a transformation of the reality. Such \ntransformation has its purpose for our thoughts \nand is logically valuable, and therefore it repre- \nsents scientific truth ; but this truth nevertheless \ndoes not reach the reality of the untransformed \n\n\n\n20 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nlife. It is exactly the same relation as that be- \ntween natural science and materialism. Natural \nscience considers the world as a mechanism, and \nfor that purpose transforms the reality in a most \ncomplicated and ingenious way. It puts in the \nplace of the perceivable objects unperceivable \natoms which are merely products of mathemati- \ncal construction quite unlike any known thing; \nand nevertheless these atoms are scientifically \ntrue, as their construction is necessary for that \nspecial logical purpose. To affirm that they are \ntrue means that they are of objective value for \nthought. But it is absurd to think, with the \nmaterialistic philosopher, that these atoms form \na reality which is more real than the known \nthings, or even the only reality, excluding the \nright of all not space-filling realities. The phy- \nsical science of matter is true, and is true with- \nout limit and without exception ; materialism is \nwrong from beginning to end. There is, in- \ndeed, no physical object in the world which \nnatural science ought not to transmute into \natoms, but no atom in the world has reality ; \nand these two statements do not contradict each \nother. \n\nIn the same way psychology is right, but the \npsychologism which considers the psychological \nelements and their mechanism as reality is wrong \nfrom its root to its top, and this psychologism is \nnot a bit better than materialism. It makes \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 21 \n\npractically no difference whether the real sub- \nstance is of the clumsy space-filling material or \nof the finer stuff that dreams are made of ; both \nare existing objects, both are combinations of \natomistic indivisible elements, both are in their \nchanges controlled and determined by general \nlaws, both make the world a succession of causes \nand effects. The psychical mechanism has no \nadvantage over the physical one ; both mean a \ndead world without ends and values, \xe2\x80\x94 laws, \nbut no duties ; effects, but no purposes ; causes, \nbut no ideals. \n\nThere is no mental fact which the psychologist \nhas not to metamorphose into psychical elements ; \nand as this transformation is logically valuable, \nhis psychical elements and their associative and \ninhibitory play are scientifically true. But a \npsychical element, and anything which is thought \nas combination of psychical elements and as \nworking under the laws of these psychical con- \nstructions, has as little reality as have the atoms \nof the physicist. Our body is not a heap of \natoms ; our inner life is still less a heap of ideas \nand feelings and emotions and volitions and \njudgments, if we take these mental things in the \nway the psychologist has to take them, as con- \ntents of consciousness made up from psychical \nelements. If it is understood that the function \nof any naturalistic science is not to discover a \nreality which is more real than our life and its \n\n\n\n22 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nimmediate battlefield, but only to transform the \nreality in a special way, then it must be clear \nthat the demands of our real life can never be \ncontradicted by the outcome of the empirical \nsciences. The sciences, therefore, find their \nway free to advance without fear till they have \nmastered and transmuted the physical and the \npsychical universe. \n\nBut we can go a step farther. A contradic- \ntion is the more impossible since this transforma- \ntion is itself under the influence of the elements \nof real life, and by that the apparent ruler \nbecomes the vassal. If psychology pretends \nthat there is no really logical value, no absolute \ntruth, because everything shows itself under \npsychological laws, we must answer, This very \nfact, that we consider even logical thinking \nfrom the psychological point of view, and that \nwe have psychology at all, is only an outcome of \nthe primary truth that we have logical ends and \npurposes. Logical thinking creates psychology \nfor its own ends ; psychology cannot be itself \nthe basis for logical thinking. And if psy- \nchology denies all values because they prove \nto be psychical fancies only, we must confess \nthat this striving for the understanding of the \nworld by transforming it through our science \nwould have no meaning if it were not work \ntoward an end which we appreciate as valuable. \nEvery act of thought, every affirmation and \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 23 \n\ndenial, every yes or no which constitutes a scien- \ntific judgment, is an act of a will which ac- \nknowledges the over-individual obligation to \ndecide so, and not otherwise, \xe2\x80\x94 acknowledges \nan " ought," and works thus for duty. Far \nfrom allowing psychology to doubt whether the \nreal life has duties, we must understand that \nthere is no psychology, no science, no thought, \nno doubt, which does not by its very appearance \nsolemnly acknowledge that it is the child of \nduties. Psychology may dissolve our will and \nour personality and our freedom, and it is con- \nstrained by duty to do so, but it must not forget \nthat it speaks only of that will and that person- \nality which are by metamorphosis substituted for \nthe personality and the will of real life, and that \nit is this real personality and its free will which \ncreate psychology in the service of its ends and \naims and ideals. \n\n\n\nIn emphasizing thus the will as the bearer of \nall science and thought, we have reached the \npoint from which we can see the full relations \nbetween life and psychology. In the real life \nwe are willing subjects whose reality is given in \nour will attitudes, in our liking and disliking, \nloving and hating, affirming and denying, agree- \ning and fighting ; and as these attitudes overlap \nand bind one another, this willing personality \n\n\n\n24 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nhas unity. We know ourselves by feeling our- \nselves as those willing subjects ; we do not per- \nceive that will in ourselves; we will it. But \ndo we perceive the other subjects ? No, as little \nas ourselves. In real life, the other subjects also \nare not perceived, but acknowledged ; wherever \nsubjective attitudes stir us up, and ask for \nagreement or disagreement, there we appreciate \npersonalities. These attitudes of the subjects \nturn toward a world of objects, \xe2\x80\x94 a world which \nmeans in real life a world of tools and helps and \nobstacles and ends ; in short, a world of objects \nof appreciation. \n\nDo those subjects and their objects exist? \nNo, they do not exist. I do not mean that they \nare a fairy tale; even the figures of the fairy \ntale are for the instant thought as existing., The \nreal world we live in has no existence, because it \nhas a form of reality which is endlessly fuller \nand richer than that shadow of reality which \nwe mean by existence. Existence of an object \nmeans that it is a possible object of mere passive \nperception ; in real life, there is no passive per- \nception, but only active appreciation, and to \nthink anything as object of perception only \nmeans a transmutation by which reality evapo- \nrates. Whatever is thought as existing cannot \nhave reality. Our real will does not exist, either \nas a substance which lasts or as a process which is \ngoing on ; but our will is valid, and has a form \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 25 \n\nof reality which cannot be described because it is \nthe last foothold of all description and agree- \nment. Whoever has not known himself as will- \ning cannot learn by description what kind of \nreality is given to us in that act of life ; but \nwhoever has willed knows that the act means \nsomething else than the fact that some object of \npassive perception was in consciousness; in \nshort, he knows a reality which means more than \nexistence. \n\nThe existing world, then, does not lack reality \nbecause it is merely a shadow of a world beyond \nit, a shadow of a Platonistic world of potentiali- \nties. No, it is a shadow of a real world, which \nstands not farther from us, but still nearer to us, \nthan the existing world. The world we will is \nthe reality; the world we perceive is the de- \nduced, and therefore unreal system ; and the \nworld of potential forms and relations, as it is \ndeduced from this perceivable system, is a con- \nstruction of a still higher degree of unreality. \nThe potentialities that form the only possible \nmetaphysical background of reality are not the \npotentialities of existing objects, but the poten- \ntialities of will acts. This world of not existing \nbut valid subjective will relations is the only \nworld which history and society, morality and \nphilosophy, have to deal with. \n\nThe willing subjects and their mutual rela- \ntions are the only matter history can speak of, \n\n\n\n26 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nbut not those subjects thought as perceivable \nexisting objects ; no, as willing subjects whose \nreality we can understand, not by describing \ntheir physical or psychical elements, but by \ninterpreting and appreciating their purposes and \nmeans. The stones, the animals, even the sav- \nages, have no history ; only where a network of \nindividual will relations can be acknowledged \nby our will have we really history ; and our own \nhistorical position means the system of will atti- \ntudes by which we acknowledge other willing \nsubjects. To be sure, history, like every other \nscience, must go from the raw material of single \nfacts to generalities ; but if we are in a world of \nnot existing but valid realities, the generalities \ncannot be laws, but will relations of more and \nmore general importance. Existing processes are \nscientifically generalized by laws ; valid relations \nare generalized by more and more embracing \nrelations. The aim of the real historian, there- \nfore, is, not to copy the natural laws of physics \nand social psychology, but to work out the more \nand more general inner relations of mankind by \nfollowing up the will influence of great men, till \nfinally the philosophy of history shall comprise \nthis total development from paradise to the day \nof judgment by one all-embracing will connec- \ntion. Thus history in all its departments, his- \ntory of politics and constitutions, of art and \nscience, of language and law, has as its object \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 27 \n\nthe system of those human will relations which \nwe ourselves as willing subjects acknowledge, \nand which are for us objects of understanding, \nof interpretation, of appreciation, even of criti- \ncism, but not objects of description and expla- \nnation, as they are valid subjective will func- \ntions, not existing perceivable objects. \n\nHistory speaks only of those will acts which \nare acknowledged as merely individual. We \nknow other will acts in ourselves which we will \nwith an over-individual meaning, those attitudes \nwe take when we feel ourselves beyond the \ndomain of our purely personal wishes. The will \nremains our own, but its significance transcends \nour individual attitudes ; it has an over-individ- \nual value ; we call it our duty. To be sure, our \nduty is our own central will ; there is no duty \nwhich comes from the outside. The order which \ncomes from outside is force which seduces or \nthreatens us ; duty lies only in ourselves ; it is \nour own will, but our will in so far as we are \ncreators of an over-individual attitude. \n\nIf the system of our individual will acts is in- \nterpreted and connected in the historical sciences, \nthe system of our over-individual will acts is \ninterpreted and connected in the normative \nsciences, logic, aesthetics, ethics, and philosophy \nof religion. Logic treats of the over-individual \nwill acts of affirming the world, aesthetics of \nthose of appreciating the world, religion of \n\n\n\n28 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nthose of transcending the world, ethics of those \nof acting for the world ; and in virtue of this \nattitude also are constituted all the side branches \nof ethics, as jurisprudence and pedagogy. All \ntreat of over-individual valid will relations, and \nno one has therefore directly to deal with exist- \ning psychical objects. On the basis of these \nnormative sciences the idealistic philosophy has \nto build up its metaphysical system, which may \nconnect the disconnected will attitudes of our \nethical, sesthetical, religious, and logical duties \nin one ideal dome of thoughts. But however \nwe may formulate this logically ultimate source \nof all reality, we know at least one thing surely, \nthat we have deprived it of all meaning and of \nall values and of all dignity, if we picture it as \nsomething which exists. The least creature of \nall mortals, acknowledged as a willing subject, \nhas more dignity and value than even an al- \nmighty God, if he is thought of merely as a \ngigantic psychological mechanism ; that is, as \nan object the reality of which has the form of \nexistence. \n\nVI \n\nHow do we come, then, to the idea of exist- \ning objects? There is no difficulty in under- \nstanding that. Our life is will, and our will has \nits duties ; but every action turns toward those \nmeans and obstacles and ends, those objects of \nappreciation, which are material for our will and \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 29 \n\nour duties. Every act is thus a cooperation of \nsubjects and subjectively appreciated objects ; \nwe cannot fulfill our duty, therefore, if we do \nnot know what we have to expect from the \nobjects in this cooperation. There must arise, \nthen, the will to isolate our expectation about \nthe objects ; that is, to think what we should \nhave to expect from the objects if they were inde- \npendent of the willing subjects. In reality, they \nare never independent ; in our thoughts, we can \ncut them loose from the willing subjects, and \nthink of them as objects which are not any more \nobjects of appreciation, but objects of perception \nonly. These objects in their artificial separation \nfrom the real subject, thought of as objects of a \npassive spectator, take by that change a form \nwhich we call existence, and it is the aim of nat- \nural science to study these existing things. The \npath of their study is indicated to them by the \ngoal they try to reach. They have to determine \nthe expectations the objects bring up ; at first, \ntherefore, they look out for those features of the \nobjects which suggest the different expectations, \nand natural science calls these features of the \nobjects their elements. These elements are not \nreally in the objects, but they represent all that \nwhich determines the possible variations of the \nobjects in the future. Thus science considers \nthe present thing a combination of elements to \ndetermine its relation to the future thing ; but \n\n\n\n30 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nthe present thing is, then, itself the future of \nthe past thing, and it stands, in consequence, \nbetween past and future ; that is, as a link in a \nchain in which everything is determining the \nfuture and determined by the past, everything \ncause and everything effect. \n\nNatural science finds in this attempt that \nthere may be two classes of such existing ob- \njects : objects which are possible, perceivable \nobjects for every subject, and others which are \nperceivable only for one subject. Natural sci- \nence calls the first group physical objects, the \nsecond group psychical objects, and separates \nthe study of them, as this relation to the one or \nthe many brings with it numerous characteristic \ndifferences, the differences between physics and \npsychology. But the point of view for both is \nexactly the same ; both consider their material \nas merely perceivable objects which are made up \nfrom elements, and which determine one another \nby causal connections. Since they are thought \nas cut loose from the attitude of the will, neither \nthe physical nor the psychical objects can have \nvalues or teleological relations. \n\nBut the will itself ? If psychology, like phy- \nsics, deals with the objects of the world in their \nartificial separation from the will, how can the \nwill itself be an object of psychology ? The \npresupposition of this question is in some way \nwrong ; the will is primarily not at all an object \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 31 \n\nof psychology. The real psychological objects \nare the ideas of our perception and memory and \nimagination and reason. Only if psychology \nprogresses, it must come to the point where it \nundertakes to consider every factor of our men- \ntal life from a psychological point of view ; that \nis, as an object made up from atomistic elements \nwhich the psychologist calls sensations. The \nwill is not a possible object ; psychology must \nmake a substitution, therefore ; it identifies the \nreal personality with the psychophysical organ- \nism, and calls the will the set of conditions \' \nwhich psychologically and physiologically deter- \nmines the actions of this organism. Now this \nwill, too, is made up of sensations, \xe2\x80\x94 muscle sen- \nsations and others ; and this will depends upon \npsychological laws, is the effect of conditions \nand the cause of effects ; it is ironed with the \nchains of natural laws to the rock of neces- \nsity. The real will is not a perceivable object, \nand therefore neither cause nor effect, but has \nits meaning and its value in itself ; it is not an \nexception to the world of laws and causes ; no, \nthere would not be any meaning in asking whe- \nther it has a cause or not, as only existing ob- \njects can belong to the series of causal relations. \nThe real will is free, and it is the work of such \' \nfree will to picture, for its own purposes, the \nworld as an unfree, a causally connected, an \nexisting system ; and if it is the triumph of mod- \n\n\n\n32 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nern psychology to master even the best in man, \nthe will, and to dissolve even the will into its \natomistic sensations and their causal unfree play, \nwe are blind if we forget that this transforma- \ntion and construction is itself the work of the \nwill which dictates ends, and the finest herald of \nL its freedom. \n\nOf course, as soon as the psychologist enters \ninto the study of the will, he has absolutely to \nabstract from the fact that a complicated substi- \ntution is the presupposition for his work. He \nhas now to consider the will as if it were really \ncomposed of sensational elements, and as if his \nanalysis discovered them. The will is for him \nreally a complex of sensations ; that is, a com- \nplex of possible elements of perceptive ideas. \nAs soon as the psychologist, as such, acknow- \nledges in the analysis of the will a factor which \nis not a possible element of perception, he de- \nstroys the possibility of psychology just as much \nas the physicist who acknowledges miracles in \nthe explanation of the material world denies \nphysics. There is nothing more absurd than to \nblame the psychologist because his account of \nthe will does not do justice to the whole reality \nof it, and to believe that it is a climax of forci- \nble arguments against the atomizing psychology \nof to-day if philosophers exclaim that there is \nno real will at all in those compounds of sensa- \ntions which the psychologist substitutes. Cer- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE 33 \n\ntainly not, as it was just the presupposition of \npsychology to abstract from that real will. It is \nnot wiser than to cast up against the physicist \nthat his moving atoms do not represent the phys- \nical world because they have no color and sound \nand smell. If they sounded and smelled still, \nthe physicist would not have fulfilled his pur- \npose. \n\nPsychology can mean an end, and can mean \nalso a beginning. It may be, and in this cen- \ntury, indeed, has been, the last word of a natu- \nralistic attitude toward the world, \xe2\x80\x94 an atti- \ntude which emphasized only what is expected \nfrom the objects, and neglected the duties of the \nsubjects. But psychology degenerates into an \nunphilosophical psychologism, just as natural sci- \nence degenerates into materialism, if it does not \nunderstand that it works only from one side, and \nthat the other side, the reality which is not ex- \nistence, and therefore no possible object of psy- \nchology and natural science, is the primary real- \nity. Psychology may be also a beginning. It \ncan mean that we ought to abandon exaggerated \ndevotion for the physical world, that we ought \nto look out for our inner world ; a good psycho- \nlogy is then the most important supplement to \nthose sciences which consider the inner life, not \nas an existing, describable, explainable object, but \nas a will system to be interpreted and to be ap- \npreciated. If that is the attitude, the psycho- \n\n\n\n34 PSYCHOLOGY AND LIFE \n\nlogical sciences on the one side, the historical \nand normative sciences on the other side, can \nreally do justice to the totality of the problems \nof the inner life. If psychology tries to stand \non both sides, its end must be near ; the real life \nwill tear it up and rend it in pieces. If it stands \nwith strong feet on the one side, and acknow- \nledges the right of the other side, it will have a \nfuture. The psychology of our time too often \nseems determined to die out in psychologism ; \nthat must be stopped. Psychology is an end as \nthe last word of the naturalistic century which \nlies behind us; it may become a beginning as \nthe introductory word of an idealistic century to \nbe hoped for. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\n\n\nIn the opinion of the public the most charac- \nteristic feature of the present psychology is its \nassociation with physiology ; the questions in re- \ngard to the mind, which in earlier times belonged \nto the domains of the philosopher only, are now \nto be answered by inquiries as to the functions of \nthe brain. This new situation has everywhere \nstirred up feelings of hope and feelings of fear ; \nthe hope in the hearts of enthusiastic admirers \nof natural science, the fear in the souls of those \nfor whom the ethical values of life stand fore- \nmost. Each of these two antagonistic feelings \nis based on a popular doctrine, and these two \ndoctrines have absolutely nothing in common \nbeyond the one fact that both are equally mis- \ntaken. \n\nThe hope-inspiring theory of the progressive \nfriends of psychology is that brain physiology \nalone can teach us the real constitution of men- \ntal life, as the brain is a perceivable, palpable \nthing which can be dissected and microscopically \nexamined, while the soul is a merely hypotheti- \n\n\n\n36 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\ncal construction of the metaphysicians. All the \nso-called knowledge of psychical life must thus \nbe vague and foggy, and all exact and scientific \nknowledge of it must thus date from the time \nwhen the ganglion cells and association fibres \nwere discovered to be the causes of mental \naction. The fear-suggesting theory of the more \nconservative friends of psychology does not deny \nthat many psychical acts are dependent upon \nbodily functions, but while the others welcome \nthe fact as an instrument of science, they de- \nspise it as an obstacle to an ethical life. All our \nduties depend upon the freedom of our deci- \nsions, and if it can be shown that our whole \nmental life is determined by the physiological \nprocesses in our brain, then the claim of free- \ndom is meaningless ; we stand then fully under \nthe mechanical laws which move the molecules \nin our body. The necessary and logical conse- \nquence is that it must be a gain for morality to \nshow that at least some psychical functions, the \nfeelings for instance, or the attention or the \nvolitions, may be independent of intermingling \nganglion cells. The first view thus leads natu- \nrally to the wish to find as many relations be- \ntween mind and brain as possible ; the second \nview must lead to the opposite wish that such \nrelations may finally be recognized as incomplete \nand full of exceptions. \n\nThe mistake of the psychophysiological enthu- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 37 \n\nsiasts lies more on the surface than that of the \naccusers. We are told that we are to expect \nan exact knowledge of the psychical facts from \nour knowledge of the brain ; but what in the \nworld can we know better than the objects of \nour immediate self -observation ? The observa- \ntion and analysis of our mental facts is in no \nway dependent upon a hypothesis in regard to \nthe soul ; it is the most direct object of our at- \ntention, and we thus know endlessly more about \nour psychical facts than about the functions of \nthe brain. Even two thousand years ago the \nchief mental facts were well known, while the \nmost fundamental questions of brain physiology \nare still to-day under lively discussion. Above \nall, the history of science shows how in the times \nof their cooperation psychology always had to \ngive and physiology to take ; light had to be \nthrown from the side of the well-known psy- \nchological facts upon the obscure physiological \nfacts, and never in the opposite direction. The \nconsequence of this situation is that psychologists \nin their work of analysis and research into the \nconstitution of the psychical facts have not the \nslightest reason for inquiring into any accom- \npanying brain processes ; they cannot learn from \nthat side anything which they do not know bet- \nter from self-observation and the observation of \nothers. Whether a special mental act occurs in \none part of the brain or in another, whether \n\n\n\n38 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nthe cells or the fibres are engaged, whether the \nprocesses are similar to the physical movements \nin an electric wire or to the physiological actions \nin an amoeboid organism, whether the sensory \nand motor centres are separate or identical, and \na hundred similar questions which stand in the \nforeground of interest for the doctrine of psy- \nchophysiological relations are all equally indif- \nferent for the study of the psychical facts as \nsuch. The increase of scientific exactitude must \ncome from the use of more refined methods in \nself-observation, and all the work done in our \nmodern laboratories of experimental psychology \nis in the service of this endeavor, while the \nmethods of histology and comparative anatomy, \nof pathology and vivisectional physiology, all \nindispensable for the psychophysiological pro- \nblems, are unknown, and ought to remain un- \nknown, in our psychological laboratories. The \nhope that physiological psychology will give us \na fuller acquaintance with the psychological facts \nas such is therefore an illusion. \n\nBut not less misleading is the fear that the \nsystem of physiological psychology may inter- \nfere with the values of our practical life. It \nstands and falls with the conviction that the psy- \nchical facts which are conceived as dependent \nupon the brain machinery are the real inner \nexperience which embraces our duties and re- \nsponsibilities. A philosophical inquiry into the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 39 \n\nrelations of psychology to reality cannot leave \nany doubt that such a belief is untenable. In \nour real life our objects of action are not ideas \nwhich are separated from the physical things, \nbut the physical and psychical objects form one \nundifferentiated object of will, which from merely \nsecondary logical motives is divided into a physi- \ncal and psychical part, and is then conceived as \nindependent of the acts of the subject. And \nthese acts themselves are also never given to us \nas contents of consciousness, never as objects, \nbut as functions which we feel and live through. \nObjects and subjective acts are thus alike trans- \nformed into something which they never are in \nreality as soon as the objects are conceived as \nsevered from the will and differentiated into \nphysical and psychical parts and the subjective \nacts are conceived as psychical objects. All this \npsychology must do in the interest of special \nlogical purposes of which we shall examine later \nsome of the motives and some of the conse- \nquences. But whatever the motives may be, it \nis clear that this construction of psychical ob- \njects, which precedes all special psychological \nwork, excludes from the start the possibility that \nany connection and relation into which these \npsychical facts enter can decide about the rela- \ntions and connections of the real life. \n\nThere is thus no emotional interest involved \nin the question whether a smaller or a larger \n\n\n\n40 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\npart of the psychical facts must be conceived as \nthe accompaniment of brain functions; the \nproblem is merely logical and theoretical, as are \nalso the considerations which lead to the ulti- \nmate answer of the question. It is true that \nthe naturalists and psychologists themselves are \nmostly inclined, in the eagerness of their special- \nist^ work, to overlook and to ignore this logical \nbasis of the relations, and to be satisfied with a \nmerely empirical foundation. The relation be- \ntween mind and brain seems to them a fact of \nobservation, a chance fact whose limits must be \nfound by careful inquiry of the verifiable occur- \nrences. They are not conscious of the deeper \nspring of this inquiry; they follow their scien- \ntific instinct as discoverers, and do not feel that \nthis instinct is controlled by logical demands \nwhich decide what in the realm of observation \nought to be acknowledged as fact, and what \nought to be transformed till it satisfies the theo- \nretical postulates. \n\nII \n\nOf course even the layman is familiar with \nplenty of instances in which the empirical facts \nsuggest the view that the psychical facts some- \nhow depend upon the brain. Popularly best \nknown are the abnormal processes. A man be- \ncomes blind or deaf if special parts of the brain \nare destroyed by a hemorrhage ; his intelligence \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 41 \n\nbecomes disintegrated if he suffers from para- \nlysis of the brain ; the brain state of sleep brings \nwith it the psychical wonders of dreams ; a blow \non the head may induce a state of fainting in \nwhich all mental life disappears ; and chemical \nsubstances introduced into the blood circulation \nof the brain change our moods and emotions. \nSuch generally known experiences are supple- \nmented by more complicated facts from all quar- \nters. The mental life of animals shows itself \nto be parallel in its development to the differen- \ntiation of the central nervous system ; the facul- \nties of human individuals appear to correspond \nto a full development of the brain, the mental \nlife of the idiot to belong to a brain of inhibited \ngrowth. To this class of facts belong all the \nexperiments of the physiologist who shows that \nthe artificial extirpation of a special centre in \nthe hemispheres of the brain destroys the peri- \npheral function, a function which, on the other \nhand^ can be artificially produced by an electrical \nstimulation of the intact centre. Here belong \nalso the observations of comparative anatomy, \nwhich prove the development of special brain \nparts to be increased or decreased in different \nanimal groups according to the higher or lower \nstate of special psychical functions ; for instance, \nthe high development of the olfactory lobe in \nanimals which have a fine sense of smell. The \nmost different methods here work together to \n\n\n\n42 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nmake the collection of a large number of detailed \nfacts possible, and yet the psychologist follows \na wrong track if he believes that the results \nwhich are yielded by such methods must be de- \ncisive for his psychophysical convictions. \n\nIf the question were really a merely empirical \none, we should be obliged to limit the extension \nof the psychophysical parallelism to the few \npsychological processes for which the natural \nsciences have already found the physiological \nsubstratum, but in that moment all the interest \nof the psychologist w r ould disappear. He ac- \nknowledges, in response to a logical demand, that \nevery single psychical fact has its physiological \ncounterpart or the whole inquiry becomes a use- \nless and time-wasting luxury. Whether the psy- \nchophysical connections have one exception or \na million is indifferent ; the belief that the con- \nnection exists without exception is the chain on \nwhich the whole pyschophysical system hangs, \nand it must fall if the chain is broken, whether \nbroken once or a thousand times. If it were \notherwise \xe2\x80\x94 that is, if the psychophysical con- \nnections were merely results of empirical observa- \ntion \xe2\x80\x94 they would form an appendix to scientific \npsychology which would be at least unnecessary \nfor the real psychological work. Psychology de- \nscribes and explains the psychological facts ; it \nis therefore not its task to study anything which \nlies outside of the field of psychical facts, if \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 43 \n\nsuch extension to the non-psychical facts is not \nlogically necessary for the study of the psychical \nfacts themselves. The study of the connections \nbetween mind and body would then stand as a \nspecial empirical science between psychology \nand physics, but it would not be a part of psy- \nchology itself. Such, however, is not the case. \nPsychology needs the psychophysical connection \nfor its own special work, needs it as a logical sup- \nposition without which it cannot fulfill its proper \ntask, and it therefore acknowledges the complete- \nness of the connection independent of the special \nempirical observations. Psychophysical paral- \nlelism brings with it no ethical danger and no \nmaterialistic consequences, because the connected \nobjects do not belong to reality, and are merely \ntheoretical constructions for special logical pur- \nposes ; but in these constructed systems the con- \nnection is absolutely complete and exceptionless \nor it is altogether useless for psychology. The \ndecoration of our psychological lecture courses \nwith pretty physiological bric-a-brac and the \ntrimming up of our text-books with physiologi- \ncal wood-cuts can hardly be admitted as an end \nin itself. \n\nWhy does the psychologist transcend the lim- \nits of the psychical world and look over into the \nphysical world, which is, as the name indicates, \nnever the direct object of his interests? The \nusual answer is that the psychical facts need the \n\n\n\n44 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nphysical substratum for their explanation ; but I \nthink we can go a long step farther and say that \neven the description of the psychical facts needs \nand constantly presupposes the reference to the \nphysical world, and that it is therefore an illusion \nto believe that psychology can fulfill at least the \nfirst part of its work, the description of its \nmaterial, without transgressing the boundaries \nof consciousness. \n\nIll \n\nDescription means the communication of an \nobject by the communication of its elements. \nOther ways of communication are open, but \nonly that method which analyzes the object into \nelements and fixates the elements for the pur- \npose of communication is a description. The \nchoice of the elements and their fixation also can \nof course reach very different levels. We may \nanalyze an animal by separating the chief parts \nwhich we perceive from the outside, or we may \ntear it in pieces to find out the inner parts also ; \nwe may make a careful anatomical dissection \nwhich separates the different tissues, or we may \nadvance to a histological analysis which discrimi- \nnates the different microscopical cells. The de- \nscription thus stands the higher the more our \nchoice of elements takes account of the causal \nconnections, but even the most popular and un- \nscientific report describes on the basis of an ana- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 45 \n\nlysis. In the same way the fixation of the ele- \nments to be communicated may be increasingly \naccurate : we may be satisfied to describe the \ncolor or the form of the parts of the animal by \nusing the names of general conceptions which \ninclude many similar objects, calling it green or \noval, or we may advance to a determination of \nthe number of ether vibrations and make mea- \nsurement of the dimensions in thousandths of a \nmillimeter : the principle remains the same. \n\nHow far can we describe psychological objects \nin the same way, \xe2\x80\x94 an idea, for instance ? A \ncorresponding analysis is certainly possible. We \ncannot really isolate the psychical elements, but \nwe can certainly separate them in consciousness, \nturning the attention to one element after the \nother, in our self -observation. Here also many \nstages are possible ; the highest stage, corre- \nsponding to the microscopical analysis of the \nanatomist, is reached by self-observation under \nthe experimental conditions which our laborato- \nries furnish, \xe2\x80\x94 in other words, the analysis may \napproach more and more nearly those elements \nwhich are the necessary footholds for the ex- \nplanation of the facts ; but in any case there is \nno theoretical objection to the analysis of mental \nfacts. Quite different is the second factor of \nthe descriptive process, the fixation of these ele- \nments for the purpose of communication. We \ncan say without limitation : a psychical element \n\n\n\n46 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\ncan never be directly communicated, because \ncommunication presupposes the possibility of a \nmutual sharing in the object of experience, \nwhile the psychical objects are from their nature \nstrictly individual property. \n\nIf we communicate by other methods than de- \nscription, for instance by suggestion or gestures, \nthe other person takes part in our intentions and \npurposes, and these intentions are then the ob- \nject of the communication. But these intentions \nare not themselves psychical objects; they are the \nideal points towards which the meaning of our \nideas is directed, and the intention towards which \nmy ideas point may very well be at the same \ntime the goal for the attitudes of the other. \nBut we ask whether the content of consciousness \nitself can possibly be an object in which the other \ncan take part, and this alone we deny. What \nmy ideas mean and intend is something in which \nany other may participate, but my ideas them- \nselves belong to me alone, and can, as psychical \nobjects, never be the ideas of any one else. \nMy consciousness is my castle, and even if a \nmind-reader finds out my most hidden thoughts, \nhis claim does not mean that he has caught, a \nglimpse within my castle walls. He does not \nbecome conscious of my psychical contents, but \nhe produces in himself ideas which he claims \ncorrespond to my ideas; but not the slightest \nsensation can ever belong to his and to my con- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 47 \n\nsciousness together. All this is not a matter of \nchance ; we cannot think of any psychical fact \nfor which it could be otherwise. In reality the \nphysical thing and our idea of it are one object, \nand as soon as we differentiate it into a physical \nand psychical part we have no other principle of \ndivision than this one, that we call physical what- \never is the possible object of experience for sev- \neral subjects, and psychical whatever cannot be \nexperienced by more than one. All the other \ndifferences are secondary consequences of this \nfundamental principle, and we have thus no rea- \nson to be surprised that we find the latter true \nwithout exception. No molecule moves in the \nworld which cannot be an object for every one, \nand no sensation arises in a consciousness which \ncan be shared with a second subject. \n\nThe difference in the communication of physi- \ncal and psychical objects is now evident. How- \never I may analyze the physical thing, each ele- \nment is an object for me and my neighbor at \nthe same time, my object becomes his object \ntoo, he can see it, touch it, hear it like myself, \nand my communication is thus a demonstration \nwhich fulfills its logical purpose in the most ideal \nway, and my words have merely the function \nof directing attention to the common property. \nBut it is not necessary that the physical object \nshould be present to our senses ; the words will \nfulfill their communicating purpose no less if \n\n\n\n48 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nthey refer to an object which was experienced in \nearlier time, or if the objects themselves were \nnever given ; at least their elements may have \nbeen shared. Whatever the form of the com- \nmunication about the physical world may be, \nthis reference to the physical world as the object \nof common experience is always given. If I say \nit rains, the other may never have seen rain, but \nby the conceptions of water, sky, globule, falling \nand so forth I can describe the rain from its ele- \nments, and each of these factors is understood \nthrough its relation to the objective world. And \nif even these conceptions were unknown, they \ncould finally be described by the mere measure- \nments in space and time, the knowledge of which \nis presupposed in the acknowledgment of other \nsubjects. \n\nThere is no one of those who perceive the \nouter world to whom I cannot describe the rain \nand the snow and the thunder in terms of their \nelements ; but how different if I wish to commu- \nnicate that I am sorry, or glad, or afraid. In \npractical life the words " I am afraid " do not \nappear less descriptive than the words "it rains," \nand yet they have a quite different basis. Not \nthe least element in my fear as psychical content \ncan be demonstrated and offered for participa- \ntion to* others. Whether they call fear a state \nwhich I call joy or violet odor no direct descrip- \ntion can decide. However I may analyze it the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 49 \n\nelements of my fear are just as incommunicable \nas is the emotion as a whole. \n\nBut psychical states must be described some- \nhow; otherwise the possibility of psychology \nwould be excluded. If they are not directly \ncommunicable we must take refuge in indirect \nmethods ; if the psychical facts are never object \nfor two, and thus strictly individual, we must \nlink them with physical processes which belong \nto all. We understand what we mean by the \nwords fear, or shock, or joy, because we have \nlearned to use the words for those mental states \nwhich are connected with special physical occur- \nrences. The physical objects with which we link \nthem may be foregoing causes or following ef- \nfects ; in any case we have an outer foothold \nfor them. We may call shock the mental state \nwhich follows a sudden strong stimulus, or the \nmental state which precedes a sudden contrac- \ntion of the muscles ; either way is sufficient to \nseparate the one state from others for the pur- \nposes of practical life. But it is clear that this \nmethod also is not only dependent upon the \nmerely empirically founded belief that the same \ncauses or effects are connected with the same \npsychical processes, but above all that it is not \na description, because the constitution and the \nelements of the state are not communicated at \nall. Is there no case in which the logical de- \nmands are better fulfilled ? \n\n\n\n50 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nThis is now clearly the fact as regards the \nideas. The emotions link themselves with physi- \ncal causes or effects, and everything in respect to \nthem is dependent upon doubtful observations \nand interpretations ; the ideas, on the other hand, \nstand in a relation to physical things which is \nanchored in philosophical ground and independ- \nent of chance observation ; the ideas mean \nthings, and the physical things and the ideas by \nwhich we mean them are in reality one and the \nsame object. Here we have a logically necessary \nconnection which holds firm for the elements as \nwell as for the whole. The idea means the thing, \nand any sensation in the idea means a feature of \nthe thing. The tone, the smell, the color as sen- \nsation can thus be communicated indirectly by \nreference to the sounding, smelling, luminous \nphysical object, and any degree of exactness \ncan be reached by the increasingly accurate de- \nscription of the physical side. The ideas have \nthus a perfectly exceptional situation. No other \nmental state can find such logically necessary \nconnection with the physical world, as a feeling \nor volition or emotion or judgment finds merely \nempirical connections, and moreover connections \nonly in which the whole refers to a whole physi- \ncal thing, but not every element to a special fea- \nture of the physical object. \n\nIdeas and their elements alone can thus find a \nlogically satisfactory description in psychology ; \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 51 \n\nthe description is indirect, but it is at least a \ncommunication of elements. And yet it is easy \nto understand that under one condition this ideal \nmethod of description which we find for the ideas \nmay be found at our disposal for all the other \nmental states as well. Psychology would then be \nable to offer a complete description of its mate- \nrial. The one condition is this. Let us call the \nelements into which we can analyze our ideas by \nmeans of self-observation by the name sensations. \nIt may then be that all the non-ideational mental \nstates also are made up of sensations. An emo- \ntion or volition is never an idea, but their ele- \nments may be the same, just as the organic and \ninorganic substances in nature are composed of \nthe same chemical elements. If an emotion or \njudgment or volition were a complex of sensa- \ntions, that is, a complex of possible elements of \nideas, then of course we could describe all psy- \nchical facts with the same logical completeness \nand safety, as every element of these subjective \nstates would be exactly determined by reference \nto that particle of the physical world which is \nmeant by it as soon as it becomes part of an \nidea ; that is, that with which it is identical from \nthe standpoint of undifferentiated reality. \n\nModern psychology, like every other active \nand productive science, has had no leisure to stop \nand inquire for the logical purposes in the ser- \nvice of which its work is done. The scientist \n\n\n\n52 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nfollows his instincts, and these instinctive ener- \ngies carry him, perhaps, more safely to the goal \nthan a conscious reflection on his ends and means; \nbut the philosopher must recognize these under- \nlying purposes, and must bring all specialistic \nwork within this general point of view. If we \ntake such attitude toward the work in psychology \nof the last twenty years, we can easily see that \nnot the least and not the most unimportant part \nof it has been done in the unconscious service \nof this one end \xe2\x80\x94 to make the non-ideational \nstates of mind describable. We have seen that \nonly one possibility would allow that. They are \ndescribable in case they can be considered as \ncombinations of sensations ; our goal is, there- \nfore, to replace the real emotions, judgments, \nvolitions, and so on, by complexes of sensations. \nComplicated transformations are necessary for \nthis purpose, and yet the psychologist must work \nin the belief and with the claim that these sen- \nsations are not the result of his transformations, \nbut that he has discovered in them the real parts \nof those mental states. \n\nAll the most modern theories which analyze \nthe emotions into complexes of bodily sensations, \nand the will into ideational elements, and seek \nsensational substance even in the most subtle \nshades of the mind and in the most fugitive feel- \nings, have here their hidden spring. This move- \nment is unlimited; no content of consciousness \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 53 \n\ncan resist its impulse. The aim of the psycholo- \ngist is to describe the mental facts ; he must, \ntherefore, presuppose that all mental facts are \ndescribable, and, since only elements of ideas can \nbe described, that every content of consciousness \nis in reality a combination of sensations. As \nlong as the substitution remains incomplete the \npsychologist feels that he has not discovered the \ntrue nature of the facts. The belief that we con- \nnect mental with physical processes merely in \nthe service of explanation is thus an illusion ; \nthe simplest description demands just the same. \n\nIV \n\nThese claims of description do not mean that \nthe demand for explanation does not introduce \nany new features into the system of relations \nbetween the physical and the psychical worlds. \nWe can say even that a connection of a quite \ndifferent character must be acknowledged as \nsoon as we try to understand every psychical \nphenomenon from its foregoing causes. This \nnew and in many ways higher form of psycho- \nphysical connection also can be developed here \nonly in general terms. In this case also the \nprinciple itself may be more or less masked in \nthe soul of the psychologist who uses it, and here \nagain everything depends upon logical demands \nwhich do not allow an exception, and not upon \nempirical observation. \n\n\n\n54 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nWe may start from the empirical claim that \nall our mental life goes on in our organism ; this \nmeans at the outset only that my ideas and feel- \nings are with me now in this town, in this room, \nin this body, probably in this head, but it does \nnot include any hypothesis as to the relation of \nmind and body. My mental states are not out- \nside of my epidermis, but they may go on some- \nwhere, for instance at a special point of my brain, \nabsolutely independent of the functions of the \norganism. Of course this empirical starting \npoint is itself reached only by a complicated \nremodeling of the reality. Primarily the inner \nexperience has no spatial quality at all, and is \nthus neither in a room nor in a brain ; space is a \nform of its objects, not a form of its own reality. \nBut this introjection of the mental facts into the \nphysical organism may be acknowledged here as \ngranted without a discussion of the different \nsteps which lead to it. Even when this point is \nreached, however, many possibilities of interpre- \ntation are open ; it is only the goal that lies \nclear before us : we must explain the psychical \nfacts. \n\nThe wish to explain the psychical facts is not \nan accidental afterthought resulting from an \nabundance of curiosity; rather it is this wish \nwhich has created the psychological facts as \nsuch. In reality our objects are objects for the \nwill, that is, values. In striving towards the f ul- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 55 \n\nfillment of the duties which life brings to us we \nhave an interest in determining what we have to \nexpect from the objects in so far as they are in- \ndependent of our will. We thus separate the \nobject from the real active subject for the one \npurpose of determining our justified expectations \nin regard to the changes of the objects. In do- \ning so we create in thought independent objects, \nwhich we call physical in so far as they are ob- \njects for every subject, and psychical in so far \nas they are objects for one subject only. The \nworld is thus re-thought as physical and psychi- \ncal phenomena only under the pressure of the \nintention to find out the influence which the ob- \nject will have on the future, that is, the effects \nwhich it will produce. In other words, we ac- \nknowledge psychical objects as such merely as \nfactors in a system of causes and effects, that is, \nas factors in an explainable system. We cannot \nask whether the psychical and physical facts are \nexplainable or not; the possibility of their expla- \nnation is their only legitimate claim to existence. \nIf we wish to take another attitude toward the \nexperience, \xe2\x80\x94 the attitude of appreciation and \ninner understanding, for instance, \xe2\x80\x94 then we \ndeal with the inner life as it is given in reality, \nand nothing suggests that transformation which \ncreates psychical and physical objects. \n\nHow is the explanation of psychical pheno- \nmena possible ? We consider a phenomenon \n\n\n\n56 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nexplained as soon as we can show that it is \nnecessarily connected with another existing fact \nwhich precedes. At the first glance this de- \nmand seems to be satisfied whenever we can \nbring two facts under an empirical law which \nsays whenever A occurs B must follow. The \nnecessity of the connection between the single \nfacts appears then as a logical consequence of \nthe general fact which the law reports ; it must \nbe so and not otherwise this time because it is al- \nways so. Psychology and physics therefore seek \nempirical laws. The attraction of the iron is \nexplained by the laws of electricity, and the re- \nproduction of the idea is explained by the laws \nof association. The two sciences seem in this \nrespect perfectly parallel, and yet they mean \nsomething theoretically absolutely different. All \nthe laws of the physical universe are in the last \nanalysis applications of the laws of mechanics. \nThe question is not whether every empirical law \nis already recognized in its mechanical factors, \nbut it must be acknowledged that natural science \nhas not reached its ideal end till the physical \nworld is understood as a world of atoms which \nmove according to mechanical laws. All physi- \ncal, chemical, and biological laws are then merely \napplications and combinations of the mechanical \nlaws for special complexes of atoms. \n\nNone of the empirical laws are as such neces- \nsary connections for our intellect ; they are con- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 57 \n\ndensed experiences, and if the experiences were \notherwise the laws would be changed. The me- \nchanical axioms, on the other hand, are of a very \ndifferent character ; they are the necessary forms \nof our apperception of the outer world, \xe2\x80\x94 the \nforms of connection which make the thinking of \na connected world of objects possible at all, \xe2\x80\x94 \nand the aim to transform all empirical laws ulti- \nmately into mechanical ones is thus the unavoid- \nable consequence of the logical nature of the \nlatter. The mechanical laws are therefore the \nreal basis of all necessity in the physical connec- \ntions. The physical or chemical or biological \nlaws would in themselves not contain anything \nwhich could convince us that an event must \nhappen just so and not otherwise, but as soon \nas we understand them to be complications of \nmechanical laws they are logically indispen- \nsable. All our trust in the necessity of the \nphysical laws is thus based finally on the con- \nviction, that if we knew all we should recognize \nevery law as a consequence of the mechanical \naxioms which are laws of thought applied to \nthe conception of space and time. \n\nAll the axiomatic doctrines about causal con- \nnections in the universe depend upon one law, \nwhich is the fundamental presupposition for the \nexistence of the physical world, the law that \nthe causes and effects are quantitatively equal. \nThe totality of physical processes can then be \n\n\n\n58 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nexpressed in causal equations, and every effect \ncan theoretically be determined and exactly cal- \nculated from the causes. As all physical laws \ncan thus be reduced to mechanical axioms, which \nare ultimately dependent upon this postulate of \ncausal equations, the necessity of the physical \nuniverse finds here its real foundation ; this ulti- \nmate axiom links all physical processes in the \nworld by the chain of necessity, and thus ad- \nmits, theoretically, an absolutely perfect expla- \nnation. \n\nNothing of this kind is possible, on the other \nhand, for the empirical laws of the psychical \nworld. The laws of association and all the \nother empirical laws, in which modern psycho- \nlogy condenses the results of observation, can \nnever be transformed into causal equations, and \ntherefore never based on a foundation of neces- \nsity. They can never make us understand that \nwith a special preceding cause absolutely this \nspecial effect must result. Why is it so ? \nWhy is all that gives its ultimate meaning and \nstrength to physical law definitively denied to \nthe psychical laws ? It is not a matter of \nchance ; no, it is the result of the fundamental \nact by which the subject divides the real object \ninto a physical and a psychical thing, meaning \nby physical all that is a possible object for every \nsubject, by psychical all that is a possible object \nfor one subject only. This definition makes it \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 59 \n\nlogically necessary that the physical object shall \nnot disappear and shall not be newly created, \nbut must be equal in all changes, while the psy- \nchical object, which cannot be the object of two \nsubjective acts, must therefore be created and \ndisappear in every new act. One psychical ob- \nject can then not contain another, and can hence \nnot be considered as its multiple. It cannot be \nunderstood, therefore, as a measurable quantity, \nand is thus eternally unfit for a causal equation, \nand therefore for a connection by necessity. \n\nThe claim that psychological facts as such can \nnever be directly connected by necessity may be \nmisunderstood as meaning that the acts which \nform our inner life have no inner connection. \nThe opposite is true. Our inner life in its real \nactivity is bound together in all its acts, but it is \nan inner connection, not an outer one, as it refers \nto the will, while objects can have no other con- \nnection than a causal one. The real acts of our \nlife bind each other teleologically by their inten- \ntions and meanings, but as soon as we transform \nthe acts into psychical objects this inner connec- \ntion loses all its meaning. Our acknowledgment \nof premises binds us in acknowledging the con- \nclusions, but this connection of judgments is \nonly logically, that is, teleologically, necessary ; \npsychologically the judgments as psychical con- \ntents can connect themselves with a wrong con- \nclusion just as well as with the logical one. \n\n\n\n60 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nThe connection of our real inner life is not a \ncausal one, while psychological facts as such, that \nis, as objects, find causal connection or are not \nconnected at all. We have seen that they can- \nnot necessarily be connected in a direct way, \nbecause they cannot enter into a causal equation. \nTo concede that they ought then not to be ex- \nplained at all is still less possible, as we have \nseen that we conceive mental life as a series of \npsychical objects merely for the purpose of link- \ning it causally. It follows that we must then \ntake the way which we were forced to choose in \nthe interest of description ; that is, we must try \nto do indirectly what is impossible by direct \nmethods, we must connect the unexplainable \npsychical world with the explainable physical \nworld. If the idea of the physical world in- \ncludes the postulate that every physical process \ncan be understood as the necessary result of the \nforegoing process, and if we are able to show \nfor every psychical process that it is connected \nwith a physical one, we can consider the psychi- \ncal facts themselves as causally connected when- \never the corresponding physical processes are \ncausally linked. \n\nV \n\nThe purpose of this connection would be \nfulfilled by any material that shows a logically \nconstant relation. In the discussion of the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 61 \n\nprinciples of description we have seen that only \none connection between psychical and physical \nfacts \xe2\x80\x94 that between perception and perceived \nobject \xe2\x80\x94 has logical necessity, because this con- \nnection can be deduced from primary identity. \nIt is evident that this relation cannot be used, at \n1 least in this direct form, for the purposes of ex- \nplanation. By description we aim at making the \ndescribed mental state a kind of public property ; \nevery one who understands the description finds \nthe idea which suits the description in his own \nmind; and we must therefore link it with a part \nof the physical world, which is practically at the \ndisposal of every one. The explanation, on the \nother hand, does not seek to formulate a propo- \nsition about the mental states of other subjects ; \nit strives to set forth the one mental fact which \nactually appears in me or in you. It must thus \nrefer to a part of the physical world which be- \nlongs to the individual, that is, to our body. \nOur body is, of course, also like every physical \nthing, an object of perception for all, and just \nfor that reason it is possible to take the processes \nin the body on which the explanation is based as \nmaterial for description and communication ; but \nin a more essential sense my body is an indi- \nvidual object, as it is the one object whose local \nand temporal relations to other objects determine \nmy individual view of the world. If we describe \nan idea the reference to such a practically indi- \n\n\n\n62 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nvidual object would be unsatisfactory, as it must \nbe linked with the corresponding idea in every \none to be a real description. If we explain an \nidea the reference to a practically common object \nwould be useless, as we are seeking to explain \na strictly individual fact, the psychical object \nwhich I have in this special moment. In the \ndescription of the idea of the moon I refer to \nthe moon itself, claiming that wherever the \nphysical moon exists there is given the material \nfrom which can be learned what idea I mean. \nBut if I wish to explain why I now have the \nperception of the moon it would not do to refer \nagain merely to the existence of the moon, since \nthe fact that the moon exists certainly does not \nlogically imply that every one at present has the \nperception of the moon in consciousness. It is \nlogically necessary that whenever, for the pur- \npose of explanation, psychical facts are linked \nwith physical ones the physical processes must \nbe processes in the individual bodies. We can \neven add that it must be a process in the body \nwhich cannot be an object for our neighbors in \nthe same way as for ourselves. A process of my \nperipheral organs would thus be as unsatisfac- \ntory a means of explanation as the existence of \nthe moon. The fact that something happens to \nmy hand, for instance, cannot serve as explana- \ntion for the appearance of a special mental state, \nfor then my neighbor, who can perceive my hand \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 63 \n\nas I do, would necessarily have the same feeling \nif that hand process and the feeling were two \nobjects which really belonged together. A cen- \ntral part of the body, which cannot be the object \nof sense perception while it is part of my body, \nis alone in question. This is the reason that \nall the peripheral parts of the body can be and \nalways are material for our descriptions, for in- \nstance in the reference to muscles, joints, glands, \nand so on, while the brain, which is not an \nobject of perception, can never be used for the \ndescription. Exactly the opposite is necessarily \ntrue of the explanation. \n\nWe thus need for explanation a process in the \nphysical individual body which is not a possible \nobject of perception while we have the psychical \nexperience, and for which can be found a uni- \nvocal and necessary connection with the psychi- \ncal object. This condition is realized for the \nperceptive idea and that brain process which \nstands in causally necessary dependence upon \nthe perceived object. The relation between the \nperceptive idea, on the one side, and the brain \nprocess which is produced by the perceived ob- \nject on the other side, fulfills those necessary \nconditions in ideal completeness, inasmuch as the \nconnection between the idea and its object is \nbased on epistemological identity and the rela- \ntion between the object and its effect on the \nindividual brain is necessary from physical caus- \n\n\n\n64 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nality. The brain stimulation which is caused \nby the moon is then not conceived as a cause \nfor the perception of the moon any more than \nthe perceived object itself was conceived as the \ncause. The moon is the cause of the brain \naction, but not of the idea. The material moon \nbelongs to the perception of it primarily, not as \na cause, but as the counterpart which is in epis- \ntemological reality identical with the perceptive \nidea ; and it is merely this logical relation that \nis kept up when the physiological effect of the \nmoon in our brain is substituted for the moon \nitself. This brain excitement, also, is then in \nno way the cause of the idea and the idea in \nno way the effect of the brain action ; even the \nusual metaphors which say that it is the inside \nof the brain process, or that it is parallel to the \nbrain process, or that they belong together as \ndo a concave and a convex surface, are merely \npractically useful expressions for a relation of a \nstrictly logical character which is derived from \nepistemological identity. The psychophysical \nparallelism of brain function and idea does not, \ntherefore, seek at all to explain the idea by the \nphysiological process, or vice versa, but merely \nto state that they necessarily belong together, \nand thus to admit the further consequence that \nwhenever the physical process is causally pro- \nduced the parallel psychical idea must be \nconceived as existing. Causality thus connects \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 65 \n\nonly the physical objects directly, while the psy- \nchical ideas are indirectly linked as accompani- \nments of the physiological processes. We have \nseen that such a physical causal connection is \nin principle a connection of absolute necessity, \nnot comparable with the combination suggested \nby an observed regularity. So far, then, as \nthe ideas can be understood as counterparts of \nphysiological processes which are causally con- \nnected, this convincing necessity binds them, \nwhile as merely psychical facts they were dis- \nconnected members. \n\nIf it were our goal to extend this method of \nindirect causal binding to the whole content of \nconsciousness, three conditions would have to be \nfulfilled. First, the psychophysical parallelism \nwhich expresses the relation of the brain process \nto the idea would have to be acknowledged for \nthe parts of the idea also ; every element of the \nidea would have to correspond to a special part \nof the physiological process which the idea as a \nwhole accompanies. Secondly, every content of \nconsciousness must be capable of analysis into \npossible elements of ideas, that is, into sensa- \ntions; and thirdly, the physiological processes, \nwhich are conceived as accompaniments of all \ncontents of consciousness, must be capable of \nbeing linked by physical causality, either among \nthemselves or with the events of the universe \noutside of the brain. Of these three conditions \n\n\n\n66 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nwe have seen the second one to be fulfilled in so \nfar as we acknowledge the mental life to be de- \nscribable. The transformation of the inner life \ninto sensations was the only way to describe it, \nand as the possibility of description is granted as \na presupposition of psychology, therefore we have \na right to presuppose that all mental states are \ncomplexes of sensations, however far we may be \nat present from a full knowledge of all the ele- \nments which compose it. The fulfillment of the \nfirst and third conditions can, of course, be given \nmerely by the work of the physiologist ; the \npsychologist can hardly add anything. The \nphysiologist, on the other hand, cannot find any \ninsurmountable difficulty in striving towards a \ndemonstration of their possibility. The over- \nwhelming manifoldness of the histological ele- \nments of the central nervous system and the \ncomplication of its structure, the difficulty of \nobserving its functions in a direct way, and \nmany other peculiar factors open an almost un- \nlimited field to the interpretation of the physio- \nlogist; there is no reason why he could not select \nas truth merely those facts which point towards \nthe fulfillment of the two mentioned conditions, \nand why he could not supplement these facts by \nconstructions which make up a system in which \nthese logical presuppositions for the explicability \nof the psychical facts are fulfilled. Exactly this \nand nothing else the modern brain physiologist \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 67 \n\nis attempting, and, like all other scientists, he \nmust presuppose that the goal at which he is \naiming can be reached. He thus takes for \ngranted that every sensation is accompanied by \na special brain process, and that all brain pro- \ncesses can be explained through physical cau- \nsality. \n\nUnder these circumstances the totality of our \nmental life can be conceived as linked indirectly \nby real necessity, but it is not less clear that under \nthese circumstances our interest as psychologists \nis directed merely to the general theory of psycho- \nphysical parallelism and not to the special facts \nof the psychophysical connections. We must \nacknowledge that every mental fact is the accom- \npaniment of a special brain process, and this abso- \nlutely without any possible exception, because \nunder this condition alone is it possible to con- \nceive the psychical objects as causally connected, \nand it was for the purpose of causal interpreta- \ntion only that the transformation of the inner \nexperience into psychical objects was made. But \nwe cannot have as psychologists any interest in \nthe question of the special brain process which \naccompanies a special given psychical phenome- \nnon ; that is physiology, and psychology has \nnothing to learn from it. We take for granted \nthat such a connection exists, indeed our whole \nexplanatory psychology would collapse if we \nallowed the slightest exception; but we do not \n\n\n\n68 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nlearn anything about the psychical facts them- \nselves when we hear that the process takes place \nin the cortex or in the subcortical centres, in the \nganglion cell or in the dendrite, or in the front \npart or in the side part of the brain. Moreover, \nit is now clear why the conviction of the psy- \nchologist, that every mental state has its physio- \nlogical accompaniment, is fully independent of \nthe special discoveries of physiology and patho- \nlogy ; it is not the result of observations, but of \npostulates which are logically unavoidable if we \nare to have psychology at all. \n\nVI \n\nThere remains, of course, the possibility of the \nobjection that the empirical facts do not allow a \nconstruction which satisfies such psychophysical \npostulates, and that therefore the hypothetically \ndemanded psychology is an end which can never \nbe reached, and thus an impossible science. If \nsuch view is correct, if a consistent descriptive \nand causally explaining psychology cannot be \nrealized, it is evident whither the inheritance \nmust go. If the mental life cannot be explained \ncausally, \xe2\x80\x94 and that means psychophysical^, \xe2\x80\x94 \nthen the whole inner experience must be given \nover to the subjectifying sciences, which inter- \npret it by its meaning and by its values, taking \nthe inner life as a unity and as a will act, which \nit certainly is in reality. The objections to ex- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 69 \n\nplaining psychology from this side are essen- \ntially two. On the one side, it is said that \nthe physiological system, which alone carries the \nresponsibility for all psychological connections, \ncan never explain the intellectual and teleological \ncharacter of our connections in consciousness. \nOn the other hand, it is emphasized that the struc- \nture and the connections of the brain are totally \ninadequate to satisfy the other demand that a \nspecial brain process shall correspond to every \npossible variation of the psychical experience. \nThese two objections must now engage our at- \ntention. \n\nIt is quite true that the first claim seems an- \ntagonistic to all the instinctive feelings of a \npopular philosophy. The psychophysical paral- \nlelism which we have deduced as a necessary \nlogical postulate if psychology is to exist at all, \ndemands indeed not less than the determination \nof all our psychophysical functions by the dispo- \nsitions and causal connections of processes in \nphysical matter. Whatever we think, feel, will, \nand act can, as psychophysical process, be exactly \ndetermined by the totality of active and latent \ncauses in the physical system. This seems to de- \nprive our inner life of all its values, and, as we \nare accustomed to connect every appreciation in \nlife with inner experience, it seems deplorable \nto conceive this inner lif e as dependent upon the \nblind movements of f eelingless matter. But we \n\n\n\n70 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nhave emphasized from the beginning that here \nevery emotional interference means confusion. \nValues and duties, freedom and responsibility, \nbelong to the inner life in its real activity, but \nnot to the system of psychological facts into \nwhich we have transformed the inner experience. \nAs soon as the remoulding of the reality into \nphysical and psychical objects is completed the \nlatter do not stand nearer to the attitudes of the \nreal personality than do the former. Whether \na result is produced by the causal mechanism of a \nphysical substance, or by the causal actions of \na mental stuff, is not different from the point \nof view of dignity ; both schemes are equally far \nfrom the teleological actions of the real subject. \nThe question is thus merely whether the state of \nscience makes it appear possible to explain the \ntotality of psychophysical functions, even the \nwisest word and the best deed, as the necessary \nproduct of physiological processes. \n\nThe problem is a biological one, and the biolo- \ngist need not wait for the philosopher with his \nepistemological postulates deduced from the ne- \ncessary limitations of psychology. The biologist \nfinds a direct impulse to such considerations in- \ndependent of all psychological questions in the \nfundamental principle of physics, the law of the \nconservation of energy. He is, of course, mis- \ntaken in believing that it is based less on philo- \nsophical reasons than on empirical observation, \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 71 \n\nbut it is in any case a non-psychological principle \nwhich leads to the same result as the psychologi- \ncal discussions: every action, every expression, \nevery function which seems to refer to psychical \nexperience must find the totality of its causes on \nthe physical side, since every exception would be \na physical miracle. The slightest physical action \nwhich is not completely determined by the fore- \ngoing physical causes would represent an increase \nof the sum of energy, a concession by which the \nwhole system of physical science would be hope- \nlessly undermined, and which must be uncom- \npromisingly denied, even at the present stage of \nscience, which is certainly still far from demon- \nstrating the constancy of the sum of energies in \nall variations. Thus the difference between the \ntwo possible ways of the biologist is merely this : \nWhen he starts from the physical laws he seeks \nto explain human actions, and this demand for \nphysical explanation of the motor discharges \nleads him to the conviction that the psychical \nstates also are, from his standpoint, merely accom- \npaniments of physiological processes. When he \nstarts from the psychical facts and their unfitness \nfor causal interdependence, he aims directly at \nfinding a physiological accompaniment to every \npsychical fact, and thence comes to the conclu- \nsion that the motor discharges can be explained \nthrough these accompanying brain excitements ; \nthe final outcome, however, is in both cases the \nsame. \n\n\n\n72 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nDoes the biologist ever feel discouraged in \nsuch studies by the valuable character of the \nprocesses, by that factor which seems to naive \neclecticism not only the moral hindrance, but \nalso the chief theoretical difficulty? Does it \nretard his explanations when the result of the \nbrain functions shows logical and practical \nadjustment to the outer conditions and to the \ninterests of the acting organism, just as if a \ndeliberating intelligence had opened and closed \nthe right switches and tracks in the cerebral \nsystem ? Decidedly not ; more than that, we \nmay say that this wisdom and usefulness is for \nhim the key to the whole situation. \n\nThe biologist naturally compares the postu- \nlated functions of the brain with the actions of \nthe other organs in the organism and finds every- \nwhere the same adaptation and the same select- \niveness without ever taking refuge in the too easy \nhypothesis that an intellectual subject stands \nbehind the stage and pulls the wires. Such a \nsoul hypothesis is no doubt convenient, but it \nleaves all the problems unsolved, and would be \nin itself a still more complicated system to ex- \nplain. After a hearty meal millions and millions \nof cells are working in our vegetative system \nwhich cooperate in the interest of the nutrition \nof the organism with a wisdom no council of \nchemists could surpass ; yet the physiologist \nwould think it a cheap hypothesis to suppose \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 73 \n\nthat a stomach-soul controls these useful and \nadapted actions. The same thing is true of the \napparatus of blood circulation, of breathing, of \nprocreation, and so on. But everywhere the \nbiologist takes this usefulness not as increasing \nthe difficulty of his explanations, but as the bridge \ntowards a causal understanding; the modern \nbiologist would feel himself lost only on finding \na useless or disadvantageous organ which could \nnot be understood as an abnormal individual dis- \nturbance, or as the remainder of a formerly useful \norgan. The useful organ alone can have found \nthe conditions for its development in the growth \nof the race. The digestive apparatus of man \nwith its fairy-tale-like complication can be fol- \nlowed in this phylogenetic development from \nthe highest mammals down to the protozoons, \nwhere the assimilation of nourishing substance \nis the function of the whole protoplasmic sub- \nstance. With the growing differentiation of the \norganism only those variations of the vegetative \napparatus were not eliminated which served the \npurposes of the organism and its descendants ; \nevery useless formation was destroyed in the \nstruggle for existence, and thus lost its chance \nof being inherited. It is thus just the useful \ncomplications which become explicable on me- \nchanical principles to the biologist of the Dar- \nwinian age. \n\n\n\n74 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nVII \n\nWhy not apply this same view to the functions \nof the brain? One thing is of course evident \nfrom the first : the biologist must consider not \nmerely a part of the apparatus, but the whole, as \nonly the whole can be useful. No biology can \nexplain the development of the heart without \nthe peripheral blood vessels, or the liver without \nthe stomach ; the brain alone is not the whole, \nit is the central part, as is the heart in the \nblood system. The brain is useful merely as \nthe central organ of a system which begins \nwith the sense organs, connects them by a hun- \ndred thousand sensory nerves with the central \nnervous system, and connects this central part, by \nmeans of the motor nerves, with the muscles of \nthe organism. The psychophysical functions \nwithout muscles to express them, or the centrally \ncontrolled motor system without sense-organs to \nadjust the functions to the outer world, would be \nbiologically useless. This whole arc, from the \nsense organs through the brain to the muscles, is \non the other hand an apparatus not more and \nnot less useful than the circulatory or respiratory \napparatus; they all represent a perfect adapta- \ntion of the organism to the outer world. \n\nIf this arc is looked on as one apparatus, we \nhave indeed no difficulty in following the phylo- \ngenetic development downward to the lowest \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 75 \n\nforms in which the functions of this arc were \nsecured by the protoplasmatic activity of the \nwhole organism. Among the protozoons we find \ntwo types of reaction to outer stimuli : the con- \ntraction of the whole body under disadvantageous \nstimulation and the pseudopodic extension under \nfavorable stimulation. Both reactions are most \nuseful characteristics, since contraction brings \nthe smallest possible surface in contact with the \ndangerous substance, while extension offers the \nlargest possible surface to the beneficial sur- \nroundings. It states the problem wrongly to \nask how the lowest animals came to this acquisi- \ntion : it is just by virtue of this variation that \nthe protoplasmic substance becomes an animal. \nAs soon as organisms with the power of such \nreaction exist, the differentiation of the under- \nlying substratum of this function is a necessary \naccompaniment to the increasing complication \nand growth of the animals. Firstly, the animal \ncannot reach its prey and cannot protect itself \nagainst its dangers if v at the higher stages of \ndevelopment the whole body still goes through \nthe reactions. The stimulation and the motor \nresponse must become more and more localized \nand the transformation of excitement into dis- \ncharge must thus find isolated paths ; we call \nthem nerves. But the protective function of \nthis apparatus still remains too limited for a \nhigher stage if the reaction answers merely the \n\n\n\n76 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nouter stimuli of the moment. It needs thus \nsecondly the development of an organ by which \nthe reaction can become the discharge of all the \nforegoing stimuli together, an organ in which \nthe after effects of earlier impressions remain as \nmolecular dispositions which have a reenforcing \nor varying or inhibitory influence on the dis- \ncharges of the new impressions. Such an organ \nmust develop its possibilities steadily in the phy- \nlogenetic development as it adjusts the move- \nments of the organism to a circle of conditions \nwhich is the wider the more this apparatus is \ndifferentiated ; we call it the central nervous \nsystem. Its biological functions are those which \nwe refer in psychological interpretation to mem- \nory, attention, volition, and so forth. In prin- \nciple it is nothing new ; the bug, the frog, \nthe dog, adjust their useful and protective reac- \ntions merely to an increasingly large set of \nstimuli, spread over space and time, while the \ncentral nervous system of even the mammal does \nnot produce any movement which better adjusts \nthe organism of its owner to its surrounding \nthan does the protoplastic substance of the in- \nfusoria. \n\nNothing new is brought by the step forwards \nfrom animal to man ; it is the steady development \nof a biological mechanism which does not change \nits functions in spite of new and characteristic \ncomplications. The life of man brings two fac- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 77 \n\ntors into the evolution which were not unknown \nbut insignificant in lower stages of the living \nworld : the tool and the division of labor. Su- \nperficial biologists sometimes believe themselves \nto be true Darwinians only when they predict \nfor man a development towards an over-man \nwith a still more developed body, and they even \ngo so far as to construct an ethics which shall \nserve such biological progress. That the biolo- \ngical development cannot suddenly stop is of \ncourse true. A higher organism is indeed to \nsucceed the lower one in the human race too, \nbut the development has reached with man a \nform in which progress does not mean simply dif- \nferentiation of the body. The tools of technique \nand the means of communication through which \ndivision of labor is possible, in short, the products \nof civilization, are the new organs of man, and \ntheir development in the struggle for existence \ncontinues in a direct biological line the progress \nof the animals. The only biologically possible \nover-man is the man with higher civilization, and \nit would correspond to zoological laws that he is \nnot more highly developed in his bodily appara- \ntus ; the latter may even be reduced, since the \nman does not need strong legs if he has locomo- \ntives, nor strong fists if he has cannons, nor \nstrong eyes if he has microscopes, nor a strong \nmemory if he has libraries. \n\nThe tool in its widest sense was indeed the \n\n\n\n78 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\ngreatest step forwards, as it means an extension \nof the physiological arc at both its ends, char- \nacterized by the entirely new attribute that it \nis detachable and thus not destroyed in the \ndeath of the organism by which it is produced. \nThe individual can attach to his arc apparatus \nthe products of all preceding generations, and \nthus readjust his purposes with an incomparable \nrichness of means. And in the same direction \nworks the division of labor, the other great \nbiological scheme which nature has tried with \nman. The functions of the individual sense- \norgan-brain-muscle arc are for the complicated \nman not sufficient to bring to his brain all the \nstimulations which need motor adjustment or to \nproduce, even with the tools of civilization, all \nthe reactions which would be nutritious, protec- \ntive, and creative. If one acts for the advantage \nof others, and they repay it by acting for his \nbenefit, a mutual adjustment can be reached by \nwhich a much larger amount of advantageous \nmotor reaction and sensory stimulation can be \nsecured for the individual. The necessary sup- \nposition is the development of the means of \ncommunication from the simplest language to \nthe cable and the printing press and the coin, \nand the result is the market and the state. \n\nAnd yet this civilized man with his warships \nand newspapers and universities is not better \nadapted to his conditions of life than the micro- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 79 \n\nscopical rhizopod to its simpler conditions; in \nboth cases nature has produced that development \nof the reaction apparatus which is in its function- \ning useful to the organism, and its very useful- \nness gives us a foothold for explanation. We \nnaturally think here of one side of human life \nwhich seems so fully to contradict such a biolo- \ngical construction that the whole theory appar- \nently loses its value. Man is an ethical being, \nand our morality finds its value just in the fact \nthat we act without reference to our personal \nadvantage. Nature cannot produce according \nto biological laws an apparatus which possesses \nnormally functions which are useful to other \nindividuals but disadvantageous to the acting \norganism. Actions in the interest of the off- \nspring form an exception which explains itself \nand confirms the rule, but the moral action \nseems indeed inexplicable as long as every action \nis explained as a biologically necessary reaction \nof the organism. But we must separate the \nmotives of the ethical action from the action \nitself ; the anticipated idea may be to the advan- \ntage of the neighbor only, and yet the action \nmay have effects which are indirectly advanta- \ngeous to the actor. In our ethical functions we \nperform reactions which we do not need for \nourselves, but just that we are doing all the \ntime in our economical functions also ; the shoe- \nmaker makes many more shoes than are necessary \n\n\n\n80 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nto protect his foot. In our economical functions \nwe hope and wait for the exchange, in our \nethical functions we do not wait for it, but the \nexchange comes nevertheless, and only because \nit comes in the long run could nature afford to \ncreate this kind of reaction apparatus. To re- \nceive all the great advantages which we enjoy \nwhen others are good and helpful and generous \nto us, there is only one way \xe2\x80\x94 we must be \ngenerous and good and helpful ourselves. If it \nwere otherwise nature would have abolished the \nluxury of variations in such moral directions. \nWe praise the sacrifice of life as the highest \nethical action, and it is indeed clear that here, at \nleast, no exchange is possible, after the action, if \nwe do not admit fame as a substitute. But here \nethical appreciation, which considers the motive \nonly and not the effects, does not bind biology. \nFrom a biological standpoint the ethical sacrifice \nof life is not a proof against the principle that \nevery psychophysical action is useful to the actor ; \nit is merely a case of overfunctioning. We \nhave no useful organ in our body which cannot \nkill us when we overwork it ; if we run too fast \nour heart may kill us. Whenever the useful \nethical apparatus functions with an abnormal \nintensity, life is lost, but that this intensity is \nreally abnormal follows simply from the fact \nthat if the voluntary sacrifice of life were a \nnormal function there would be no next genera- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 81 \n\ntion to learn and to imitate that prescription. \nIn short, the biologist finds no difficulty in bring- \ning the totality of the psychophysical functions \nunder the biological and therefore ultimately \nunder the mechanical aspect ; that postulate of \npsychology is in this respect thus realizable. \nThat such biological construction does not touch \nat all the problems of the real life and of ethics \nis a matter of course. \n\nVIII \n\nIt may then be granted that the usefulness \nand adaptedness of the psychophysical functions \nwould not contradict the mere mechanical char- \nacter of the substratum upon whose causal func- \ntions we must think the psychical connections \ndependent. But we had a second chief objec- \ntion before us. The structure of the brain seems \nfar too uniform to furnish a sufficient manif old- \nness of functions if we really demand a physio- \nlogical process corresponding to every possible \nvariation of the content of consciousness. The \nmere number of elements cannot be decisive ; \nif they are all functionally coordinated they can \noffer merely the basis for coordinated psychical \nfunctions. If we have psychical functions of \ndifferent orders, it would not help us even if we \nhad some millions more of the uniform elements. \nIt would be useless to deny that here indeed exists \na great difficulty for our present psychology ; the \n\n\n\n82 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nonly question is whether this difficulty really \nopposes the demands and suppositions of psy- \nchology or whether it means that the usual the- \nories of to-day are inadequate and must be im- \nproved. It seems to me that the latter is the \ncase, and that hypotheses can be constructed \nby which all demands of psychology can be satis- \nfied without the usual sacrifice of consistency. \nThe situation is the following : \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe whole scheme of the physiologists operates \nto-day in a manif oldness of two dimensions : they \nconceive the conscious phenomena as dependent \nupon brain excitements which can vary firstly \nwith regard to their localities and secondly with \nregard to their quantitative amount. These two \nvariations then correspond to the quality of the \nmental element and to its intensity. In the \nacoustical centre, for instance, the different pitch \nof the tone sensations corresponds to locally \ndifferent ganglion cells, the different intensities \nof the same tone sensation to the quantity of the \nexcitement. Association fibres whose functions \nare not directly accompanied by conscious experi- \nences connect these millions of psychophysical \nelementary centres in a way which is imagined \non the model of the peripheral nerve. No seri- \nous attempt has been made to transcend this sim- \nple scheme. Certainly recent discussions have \nbrought many propositions to replace the simple \nphysiological association fibre which connects the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 83 \n\npsychophysical centres by more complicated sys- \ntems, \xe2\x80\x94 theories, for instance, in regard to the \nopening and closing of the connecting paths or \nin regard to special association centres or special \nmediating cell groups, \xe2\x80\x94 but these and others \nstick to the old principle that the final psycho- \nphysical process corresponds to the strength and \nlocality of a sensory stimulation or of its equiva- \nlent reproduction, whatever may have brought \nabout and combined the excitements. \n\nIt is true that it has been sometimes suggested \nthat the same ganglion cell may also go over into \nqualitatively different states of excitement, and \nthus allow an unlimited manifoldness of new \npsychophysical variations. But it is clear that \nto accept such an hypothesis means to give up \nall the advantages of brain localization. The \ncomplicatedness of the cell would be in itself \nsufficient to give ground to the idea that its \nmolecules may reach some millions of different \nlocal combinations ; and if every new combina- \ntion corresponds to a sensation, all the tones and \ncolors and smells and many other things may go \non in one cell. But then it is of course our duty \nto explain those connections and successions of \ndifferent states in one cell, and that would lead \nto conceiving the cell itself as constructed with \nmillions of paths just like a miniature brain ; in \nshort, all the difficulties would be transplanted \ninto the unknown structure of the cell. If we, \n\n\n\n84 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\non the other hand, do not enter into such spec- \nulations, the acceptance of qualitative changes \nin the cell would bring us to the same point \nas if we were satisfied to speak of qualitative \nchanges of the brain in general. It would not \nsolve the problem but merely ignore it, and \ntherefore such an additional hypothesis cannot \nhave weight. \n\nThe only theory which brings in a really new \nfactor is the theory of innervation feelings. \nThis well-known theory claims that one special \ngroup of conscious facts, namely, the feelings of \neffort and impulse, are not sensations and there- \nfore not parallel to the sensory excitements, but are \nactivities of the consciousness and parallel to the \nphysiological innervation of a central motor path. \nAt this point of course comes in at once the \nopposition of the philosophical claim that every \npsychical fact must be, as we have seen, a con- \ntent of consciousness, and made up of sensations,- \nthat is, of possible elements of ideas, to become \ndescribable and explainable at all. The so-called \nactive consciousness, the philosopher must hold, \nhas nothing to do with an activity of the con- \nsciousness itself, as consciousness means from \nthe psychological standpoint only the kind of \nexistence of psychical objects. It cannot do \nanything, it cannot have different degrees and \nfunctions, it only becomes conscious of its con- \ntents, and all variations are variations of the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 85 \n\ncontent, which must be analyzed without remain- \nder into elements which are theoretically coordi- \nnated with the elements of ideas, that is, with the \nsensations, while consciousness is only the general \ncondition for their existence. But also the em- \npirical analysis and experiment of the practical \npsychologist are in this case in the greatest har- \nmony with such philosophical claims and opposed \nto the innervation theory. The psychologist \ncan show empirically that this so-called feeling \nof effort is merely a group of sensations like \nother sensations, reproduced joint and muscle \nsensations which precede the action and have \nthe role of representing the impulse merely on \naccount of the fact that their anticipation makes \ninhibitory associations still possible. It would \nthus from this point of view also be illogical \nto think the psychophysical basis of these sen- \nsations different in principle from that of other \nsensations. If the other sensations are accom- \npaniments of sensory excitements in the brain, \nthe feelings of impulse cannot claim an excep- \ntional position. \n\nBut are quality and intensity really the only \ndifferences between the given sensations ? Can \nthe whole manifoldness of the content of con- \nsciousness really be determined by variations in \nthese two directions only ? Certainly not ; the \nsensations can vary even when quality and inten- \nsity remain constant. As an illustration we may \n\n\n\n86 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nthink, for instance, of one variation which is \nclearly not to be compared with a change in kind \nand strength of the sensation ; namely, the varia- \ntion of vividness. Vividness is not identical \nwith intensity ; the vivid impression of a weak \nsound and the faint impression of a strong \nsound are in no way interchangeable. If the \nticking of the clock in my room becomes less and \nless vivid for me the more I become absorbed \nin my work, till it finally disappears, it cannot \nbe compared with the experience which results \nwhen the clock to which I give my full attention \nis carried farther and farther away. The white \nimpression, when it loses vividness, does not \nbecome gray and finally black, nor the large size \nsmall, nor the hot lukewarm. Vividness is a \nthird dimension in the system of psychical ele- \nments, and the psychologist who postulates com- \nplete parallelism has the right to demand that \nthe physiologist show the corresponding process. \nThere are other sides of the sensation for which \nthe same is true ; they share with vividness the \nmore subjective character of the variation, as, \nfor instance, the feeling tone of the sensation or \nits pastness and presentness. Other variations \nbring such subjective factors into the complexes \nof sensations without a possibility of understand- \ning them from the combination of different kinds \nonly ; for instance, the subjective shade of ideas \nwe believe or the abstractedness of ideas in \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 87 \n\nlogical thoughts. In short, the sensations and \ntheir combinations show besides kind, strength, \nand vividness still other variations which may \nbest be called the values of the sensations and \nof their complexes. In the interest of simplicity \nwe intentionally neglected these subjective sides \nof the sensations when we discussed the methods \nof description ; it is evident that, in connecting \nthe sensation with the physical world for the pur- \nposes of description these sides require reference \nto the physical relation between the perceived \nobject and the organism. Is the typical theory \nof modern physiological psychology, which, as we \nhave seen, operates merely with the local differ- \nences of the cells and the quantitative differences \nof their excitement, ever able to find physiologi- \ncal variations which correspond to the vividness \nand to the values of the sensations ? \n\nAn examination without prejudice must neces- \nsarily deny this question. Here lies the deeper \nspring for the latent opposition which the psycho- \nphysiological claims find in modern psychology. \nHere are facts, the opponents say, which find no \nphysiological counterpart, and we must therefore \nacknowledge the existence of psychological pro- \ncesses which have nothing to do with the physio- \nlogical machinery. The vividness, for instance, \nis fully explained if we accept the view that the \nbrain determines the kind and strength of the \nsensation, while a physiologically independent \n\n\n\n88 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nsubject turns the attention more or less to the \nsensation. The more this attention acts the more \nvivid the sensation ; in a similar way the subjec- \ntive acts would determine the feeling tone of \nthe sensation by selection or rejection, and so on. \nWhile the usual theory reduces all to the mere \nassociation of locally separated excitements, such \na theory emphasizes the view that the physio- \nlogically determined functions must be supple- \nmented by an apperceiving subject which takes \nattitudes. We may call one the association \ntheory, the other the apperception theory. We \nhave seen that the association theory is insuffi- \ncient to solve the whole problem, but it is hardly \nnecessary to emphasize that the apperception \ntheory seeks the solution from the start in a \nlogically impossible direction, and is thus still \nmore mistaken than the association theory. \n\nThe apperception theory, whatever its special \nlabel and make-up may be, does not see that the \nrenunciation of a physiological basis for every \npsychical fact means resigning the causal ex- \nplanation altogether, since psychical facts as such \ncannot be linked directly by causality, and that \nresigning the causal aspect means giving up the \nonly purpose for which the inner life was ever \ntransformed into psychical facts. If those ap- \nperceptive functions are seriously conceived as \nwithout physiological basis, they represent a \nmanifoldness which can be linked merely by the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 89 \n\nteleological categories of the real life, and we \nsink back to the subjectifying view which con- \ntrols the reality of life, but which is in principle \nreplaced by the objectifying view as soon as a \npsychical object is acknowledged as such. If \nthe apperception theory, on the other hand, \nwants to live up to the demands of psychology, \nthat is, to give causal explanations, it can do \nso only if it replaces the psychical objects by \nconstructions which are themselves conceived \non the analogy with physical objects. As soon \nas the ideas are pictured like balls which are \npushed and rolled, then of course a kind of \npseudomechanics and pseudocausality is possible \nfor the psychical facts themselves, but in that \ncase the whole indirect connection of psychical \nfacts by means of the brain would be in all \nrespects a useless theory ; we have then sufficient \ndirect causality between the ideas themselves. \nIts shortcoming is only that the whole system \nis built up on a false metaphor which is to be \nrejected from the outset because it gives to the \npsychical fact that characteristic which by the \nfundamental principle of the differentiation of \nobjects into physical and psychical is necessarily \nreserved for the physical objects. \n\nOf course the illogical apperception theory \nwould not return in psychology in so many \nforms, did it not favor the illusion that it is less \nopposed than the association theory to the emo- \n\n\n\n90 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\ntional demands of man. It is the old psycho- \nlogistic absurdity that any theoretical idea about \npsychological objects can touch the subjectify- \ning interests of the real life. The apperception \ntheory, which comes home with the news that \nthere is a corner in the psychical world where \nno causal explanation has as yet been found, is \nthen welcomed as the bringer of happy hopes ; \ntill later advices come we can still feel ourselves \nfree and dignified. The philosophical under- \nstanding of that which we mean by a psycho- \nlogical truth and by a transformation into psy- \nchical objects, a transformation which would be \nutterly meaningless if the apperception theory \nwere correct, is the only scientific way of over- \ncoming such illusory conflicts. As soon as this \nfundamental misunderstanding about the mean- \ning of psychophysical theories has taken place, \nit is quite natural that the most extreme form of \nthe apperception theory should have the best \npopular chances. It would be represented in \nthe so-called transmission theory, which considers \nthe brain as unessential for the causal connec- \ntions of the psychical facts and acknowledges \nits function merely as an organ of transmission, \nwhose destruction would not hinder the temporal \ncontinuation of the causal connection of psychi- \ncal objects. The immortality which the trans- \nmission theory seeks to secure to us is thus \nthe continuous repetition of objects which have \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 91 \n\nnothing in common with the real experiences of \nour inner life, and which cannot claim anything \nelse than the fact that the psychologist must \nconstruct them for the purpose of transforming \nthe teleological reality into a causal system. \nNeedless to say after all these discussions that \nthis real subjective life cannot possibly be in- \nterested in any psychophysiological theory, and \nthat with the association and apperception and \ntransmission theories equally it connects not the \nslightest emotional value, except those of logical \nsatisfaction and disappointment. The philosopher \nwho bases the hope of immortality on a theory \nof brain functions and enjoys the facts which \ncannot be physiologically explained, stands, it \nseems to me, on the same ground with the astro- \nnomer who seeks with his telescope for a place \nin the universe where no space exists, and where \nthere would be thus undisturbed room for God \nand the eternal bodiless souls. \n\nIX \n\nWe do not here enter upon metaphysical ques- \ntions ; we discuss the empirical brain theory, and \nonly deny to the apperception theory the claimed \nright to recommend itself by illusory metaphysi- \ncal promises. But does this bankruptcy of all \nvarieties of apperception theories necessarily \nforce us back to the association theory ? I do \nnot think so. The demand of the association \n\n\n\n92 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\ntheory that every psychosis should be accom- \npanied by a neurosis cannot be given up, but \nthis neurosis may be thought in a richer way \nthan in the scheme of the associationists. It \nseems to me, indeed, that the physiological the- \nory works to-day with an abstract scheme with \nwhich no observation agrees. We do not know \nof a centripetal stimulation which does not go \nover into centrifugal impulses. The studies on \nthe tonicity and actions of voluntary muscles, on \nthe changes in glands and blood vessels, on tendon \nreflex centres, and so on, show how every psycho- \nphysical state discharges itself into centrifugal \nfunctions. And yet these perceivable peripheral \neffects are of course merely a small part of the \ncentrifugal impulses which really start from the \nend stations of the sensory channel, as most of \nthem probably produce only new dispositions in \nlower motor centres without going directly over \ninto movement, and others may fade away in the \nunlimited division of the discharge in the ramifi- \ncation of the system. Those milliards of fibres \nare not merely the wires to pull a few hundred \nmuscles; no, the centrifugal system represents \ncertainly a most complex hierarchy of motor \ncentres too, and the special final muscle impulse \nis merely the last outcome of a very complex \ncooperation of very many factors in the centri- \nfugal system. Manifold as the incoming nerve \ncurrents must be, the possibilities of centrifu- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 93 \n\ngal discharge and the dispositions in the nerv- \nous motor system determine the degrees in which \nthe ganglion cells can transform the centripetal \ninto centrifugal stimulation. It is thus not \nonly the foregoing sensory process, but in ex- \nactly the same degree also the special situation \nof the motor system, its openness and closed- \nness, which governs the process in the centre. \nWhether the special efferent channel is open \nor plugged implies absolutely different central \nprocesses in spite of the same afferent stimu- \nlus. \n\nHere we have, then, a new factor on the phy- \nsiological side, which is ignored in the usual \nscheme that makes the psychical facts dependent \nupon the sensory processes only and considers \nthe centrifugal action of the brain as a later \neffect which begins when the psychophysical \nfunction is over. There is no central sensory \nprocess which is not the beginning of an action \ntoo, and this centrifugal part of the central pro- \ncess necessarily varies the accompanying psychi- \ncal fact also. As here the action of the centre \nbecomes the essential factor in the psychophysi- \ncal process, we may call this view an action \ntheory as over against the association and apper- \nception theories of the day. The action theory \nagrees, then, with associationism in the postu- \nlate that there is no psychical variation with- \nout variation on the physiological side, and with \n\n\n\n94 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\napperceptionism in the conviction that the mere \nassociation of sensory brain processes is insuffi- \ncient to play the counterpart to such subjective \nvariations of the psychical facts as vividness and \nvalues of the sensations. It tries to combine \nthe legitimate points in both views, and claims \nthat every psychical sensation as element of the \ncontent of consciousness is the accompaniment \nof the physical process by which a centripetal \nstimulation becomes transformed into a centri- \nfugal impulse. \n\nThis central process thus clearly depends upon \nfour factors : firstly, upon the local situation of \nthe sensory track ; secondly, upon the quantitative \namount of the incoming current ; thirdly, upon \nthe local situation of the outgoing discharge; \nand fourthly, upon the quantitative amount of \nthe discharge. The first two factors are of course \ndetermined by the incoming current, which can \nbe replaced by an intra-cortical stimulation from \nan associated centre, while the last two factors \nare determined by the dispositions of the cen- \ntrifugal system. The association theory, which \nconsiders the first two factors alone, thinks them \nparallel to the kind and strength of the sensa- \ntion. The action theory accepts this interpreta- \ntion, and adds that the two other factors de- \ntermine the values and the vividness of the \nsensation, \xe2\x80\x94 the values parallel to the local situa- \ntion of the discharge, the vividness to the open- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 95 \n\nness of the centrifugal channel, and thus to the \nintensity of the discharge. \n\nIf the centrifugal discharge is inhibited, the \nchannel closed, then the sensory process goes on \nas before, but the impression is faint, unper- \nceived, while it may become vivid later as soon \nas the hindrance to the discharge disappears. \nThe inhibition of ideas, which remains unex- \nplainable to the associationists, would then mean \nthat a special path of discharge is closed, and \nthus the idea which needs that discharge for its \nvividness cannot come into existence ; the hyp- \nnotizer\'s words, for instance, close such channels. \nOnly discharges, actions, can be antagonistic, and \nthus under mutual inhibition ; ideas in themselves \nmay be logically contradictory, but not psycho- \nlogically while one action makes the antagonistic \naction indeed impossible and the inhibition of \nideas results merely from the inhibition of dis- \ncharges. If this view is correct, it is clear that \nwhile we strictly deny the existence of special \ninnervation sensations, we can now say that \nevery sensation without exception is physiologi- \ncally an innervation sensation, as it must have \nreached some degree of vividness to exist psy- \nchologically at all. \n\nWith regard to the local situation of the motor \ndischarge, the manif oldness of possibilities is evi- \ndent. The channels may be closed in one direc- \ntion but open in others ; the actually resulting \n\n\n\n96 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\ndischarge must be the product of the situation in \nthe whole centrifugal system, with its milliards \nof ramifications, and the same sensory stimu- \nlus may thus under a thousand different condi- \ntions produce a thousand different centrifugal \nwaves, all, perhaps, with the same intensity. The \nvividness would then be always the same, and \nyet the difference of locality in the discharge \nmust give new features to the psychical element. \nA few cases as illustrations must be sufficient. \nWe may instance the shades of time-direction; \nthe same idea may have the subjective character \nof past, present, and future. It corresponds to \nthree types of discharge : the discharge which \ndoes not include action on the object any more \nappears a past; that which produces action as \npresent ; that which prepares the action as future. \nIn this group belong also the feeling tones : the \npleasurable shade of feeling based on the dis- \ncharge towards the extensors, the unpleasant \nfeelings based on the innervation of the flexors. \nHere belong the differences between mere per- \nception and apperception, as in the one case the \ndischarge is determined by the impression alone, \nin the other case by associations also. Here \nbelong the characteristics of the abstract con- \nception which may be represented by the same \nsensational qualities which would form a concrete \nidea and yet has a new subjective tone because \nthe centrifugal discharge is for the concrete idea \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 97 \n\na specialized impulse, for the conception a gen- \neral impulse which would suit all objects thought \nunder the conception. Here belongs, also, the \nfeeling of belief which characterizes the judg- \nment ; the judgment differs psychophysical^ \nfrom the mere idea in the fact that the ideas \ndischarge themselves in a new tonicity, a new \nset of the lower motor centres, creating thus a \nnew disposition for later reactions. To be sure, \nmany of these discharges lead finally to muscle \ncontractions which bring with them centripetal \nsensations from the joints, the muscles, the ten- \ndons, and these muscle and joint sensations them- \nselves then become a part in the idea, for instance, \nof time, of space, of feeling. But the new part \nonly reinforces the general tone which is given \nin the general discharge, and gives to it only the \nexact detail which gets its character just through \nthe blending of these sensations of completed \nreactions with the accompaniments of the cen- \ntral discharge. \n\nA consistent psychology thus starts with the \nfollowing principles : It considers all variations \nof mental life as variations of the content of con- \nsciousness, and this content as a complex object, \nincluding in this first presupposition a compli- \ncated transformation of the real inner life, a \ntransformation by which the subjectifying view \nof real life is denied for the psychological system. \nEvery content of consciousness is further con- \n\n\n\n98 PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY \n\nsidered as a complex of sensations, that is, of \npossible elements of perceptive ideas. Every \nsensation is considered as having a fourfold \nmanifoldness, varying in kind, in strength, in \nvividness, and in value. The physiological basis \nof every sensation and thus of every psychical \nelement is the physical process by which a cen- \ntripetal stimulation becomes transformed into a \ncentrifugal impulse, the kind depending upon the \nlocality of the centripetal channel, the strength \nupon the quantity of the stimulus, the value \nupon the locality of the centrifugal channel, \nand the vividness upon the quantity of the \ndischarge. Every transformation of the chaos \nof so-called facts in the direction towards these \nends which are determined by epistemology adds \nsomething to the system of psychological sci- \nence. \n\nAlso for these ultimate transformations in the \nservice of explanation is valid what we empha- \nsized in regard to description. The scientist \nmust do his work continually with the feeling \nthat he seeks and discovers facts which preceded \nhis seeking and which he merely brings to \n\nr view. But the philosopher, at least, cannot for- \nget that such is a low conception of truth, and \nthat the work is a transformation of the reality \nfor the fulfillment of our logical ideals which \ntakes place ultimately in the service of our \n\n^duties. The seeker for truth is not a miner who \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY 99 \n\ndigs and digs in the clay of reality till he by \nchance finds a lump of gold with his shovel, gold \nwhich has slumbered there for eternities. The \nseeker for truth creates like the sculptor who \ntakes the valueless clay of reality to transform it \nunder his hands into the precious plastic work \nwhich harmonizes with his ideals. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nI \n\nThe defender of idealistic convictions who \narms himself with philosophical arguments to \nfight against materialism finds himself in com- \nbat, not with one group alone, but with two \xe2\x80\x94 \nwith those who through serious arguments come \nto an ti - idealistic views and with those who \nadopt idealism without arguments at all. They \nmay favor idealism through sentimentality, or \nthrough mysticism, or, the more frequent case, \nthrough laziness and mere lack of understand- \ning the arguments of the other side ; their \nview has no solid foundation, no consistency, no \npower of resistance. With the first group you \ncan argue ; with the second group you cannot \ndebate, as you speak a different language and \nthink with a different logic. As soon as the \nreal fight begins, you feel that the coincidence \nof aims is only a chance result without signifi- \ncance ; the help of these friends is only a hin- \ndrance and a trouble, and they ought to be sent \naway, like the women and children of a besieged \ncity before the real bombardment begins. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 101 \n\nThis old experience came to me with unusual \nforce when a short time ago I expressed my \neducational convictions, which take the ideal- \nistic view of the teacher\'s work as against the \nmaterialistic doctrines of certain psychological \nschools. I maintained in some magazine articles \nthat the individual teacher cannot make any \ndirect use of physiological and experimental psy- \nchology for his teaching methods. Why this \nview alone lies in the line of idealism we shall see \nlater. My articles were sharply attacked from \nthe other side, as the progress of a discussion \ndemands, and I was ready to go on fighting. \nBut at the same time I was applauded by sym- \npathizers who did not care for my arguments at \nall, and who hailed my side only because it was \nmuch more convenient not to study psychology \nand education. They cried naively : " Of course \nthe man is right ; all experimental and physiolo- \ngical psychology is nonsense, and all study of \neducation is superfluous ; let the teachers do just \nas they like ; our grandfathers made it just so." \nFrom day to day I became more doubtful with \nwhich side I disagreed more fully. If I warn \neducation not to make progress in a wrong \ndirection, must I proclaim by that that we ought \nto go backward? If I denounce a dangerous \nmisuse of experimental psychology, do I there- \nby attack experimental psychology itself ? If I \nassert that the interest of the teacher ought not \n\n\n\n102 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nto go in a misleading direction, do I demand by \nthat that the teacher ought to be dull and with- \nout interest ? If I regret that something has be- \ncome the fad of dilettants, do I ask by that that \nscholars also ought not to deal with it ? and if I \nfind fault with the recent development of child \nstudy, do I imply by that the belief that we do \nnot need a modern science of education ? As long \nas such confusion exists among assenters equally \nwith dissenters, we do not need so much argu- \nmentation as discrimination. We must have \nclearness and exact definitions before we decide \nabout consent or opposition ; and it is not suffi- \ncient to dissolve the whole interlaced mass of \nconceptions like child study, child psychology, \nexperimental psychology, physiological psycho- \nlogy, educational psychology, education, instruc- \ntion, school teaching, etc., etc. ; but we must \nclear up above all the manifoldness of possible \nrelations between these factors. An unpretend- \ning effort in this direction is the only direct \npurpose of the following lines; they try only \nto separate clearly the different questions and to \nshow soberly what some of us want and what we \ndo not want. I do not fight now ; I only peace- \nfully draw a map which indicates the different \nopposing positions. \n\nWe recognize at the first glance that our \nwhole group of conceptions has two central \npoints which are logically independent of each \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 103 \n\nother : the child and psychology. To simplify \nthe matter, we may start with these two ideas \nonly. Psychology is the science which describes \nand explains mental phenomena, and what a \nchild is we know perhaps better without than \nwith a scholarly definition. Let us only keep in \nmind that in the happy fields of child study \nchildhood lasts from the cradle to the end of \nadolescence, usually to the twenty-fifth year. It \nis clear that even between these two conceptions \na number of relations are possible, and the will- \ningness to transform one of these relations in \nreality does not include the duty to do the same \nwith the others. The child, for instance, can \nbe taught psychology, or it can be taught after \nthe scheme of psychology, or it can be an object \nof psychology, or it can be an instrument of \npsychology, and so forth. We can be enthusi- \nastic for the one and nevertheless at the same \ntime detest the other. \n\nThe simplest of the cases mentioned is the \nfirst : the child may learn psychology. But even \nhere several modifications are possible, as it may \nbe learned at different ages, by different methods, \nand different parts of psychology may be in \nquestion. I for one should say that there is a \nfield here for sound and productive work, and \nthat we should not be hindered and crippled by \nthe lack of experience in this region, or by the \npitiable results which have had to be recorded \n\n\n\n104 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nin the past when an antiquated and indigesti- \nble psychology was taught by incompetent per- \nsons to unwilling pupils, by the driest possible \nmethods. For the instruction in modern em- \npirical psychology, at least in its elements, the \nhigh school seems not at all too early a stage ; \nonly the work must be fully adapted to the prac- \ntical experiences of the child, must be richly \nillustrated by simple experimental demonstra- \ntions, and must be given by competent men who \ncould make a whole address out of every sen- \ntence they speak. There are few fields where a \nborn teacher can better show his power and his \nwits. Philosophical psychology, including the \nhistorical forms of rational and speculative psy- \nchology, \xe2\x80\x94 certainly a most important subject for \nthe college student, \xe2\x80\x94 like all other real philoso- \nphy, decidedly does not belong in the school ; the \nmore so as any instruction in philosophy which \nmeans more than drill in logic and preaching in \nethics can become valuable in any case only if a \nreal scholar, and not a second-hand man, offers \nit. I should also exclude from the school the \nrelations of psychology to the details of brain \nphysiology and the whole of pathological psy- \nchology, and above all child psychology; the \nmore so since we cannot hope that everybody \nwould be in the happy situation of the teacher \nwho reports in the " Pedagogical Seminary," the \nleading magazine for child study, that she \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 105 \n\nbrought a baby of three weeks into the class- \nroom to demonstrate its smiling and crying and \nother functions of similar alarming interest. If \nwe keep at a safe distance from such compromis- \ning caricatures we can, I believe, expect highly \nvaluable results from psychology instruction in \nthe school. \n\nBut the possibility of teaching psychology in \nschools is not at all confined to regular courses \nabout the whole subject; special chapters of \npsychology find a most natural place in the \ndifferent fields of the usual school work. It is \nimpossible to teach physics without discussing \nacoustical and optical sensations; the drawing \nteacher may discuss the conditions of our space \nperception or optical illusions or the seeing of \ncolors ; the study of history or literature not \nseldom brings with it a psychological analysis of \nthe higher mental states, and a school child\'s \ncuriosity rushes again and again to questions \nwhich only a sober knowledge of psychology can \nanswer satisfactorily. It seems, therefore, not \ntoo much to demand that at least every high- \nschool teacher should have some familiarity \nwith the elements of psychology. He may be \nasked to teach it as a whole or he may be \nobliged to interweave parts of it with his other \nwork; in any case he ought to have the facts \nof that science at his disposal as a material \nwhich he can teach like arithmetic or geography. \n\n\n\n106 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nThis alone would be for me sufficient reason for \nwelcoming every future teacher to the college \ncourses of psychology, but this attitude would \nnot have the slightest relation to the other ques- \ntion, whether the teacher ought to know psy- \nchology for the purpose of making use of it for \nhis professional methods of teaching. But we \ndo not stand as yet before this latter question, \nwhich is much more complicated. If we follow \nup the different relations between psychology \nand the child, the question next in natural \norder will leave educational theory still out of \nthe play. \n\nII \n\nWe have asked so far what the child can learn \nfrom psychology ; we must ask now what psy- \nchology can learn from the child. The question \ndivides itself at once into many ramifications. \nEven if we abstract, as we planned to do, from \nall practical applications, and consider only the \ninterests which psychology as a theoretical sci- \nence can have in the child, we must from the \nstart acknowledge two different points of view \nwhich are too often confused. The child\'s mind \ncan be firstly the real object of psychological \nstudy, and secondly a vehicle for the study of \nthe human mind in general, a tool in the hand \nof the psychologist. It is the same doubleness \nwhich we find, for instance, with regard to the \npathology of mental life. The pathological mind \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 107 \n\nas such can certainly be an important object of \nstudy, but it is such an object in the first place \nfor the psychiatrist, not for the psychologist. \nThe physician, of course, makes psychology as \na whole serve the need of these pathopsycholo- \ngical cases which he analyzes in the hope of im- \nproving them. The psychologist, on the other \nside, attends to such abnormalities only as devia- \ntions from the normal soul, \xe2\x80\x94 variations which \nseem interesting to him only because they throw \nsome new suggestive side light on the normal \nprocesses. He studies the disturbed harmony in \nthe hope that the caricature-like exaggeration of \nspecial features will bring out a fuller under- \nstanding of their normal relations. \n\nIn exactly the same way we can approach the \nchild\'s mind as an object worthy of our interest \nin and for itself, prepared to make use of our \nwhole general psychological knowledge for the \nexploration of this new field ; or we can turn to \nthe mental life of children, with the purpose of \nfinding through this study new paths of en- \ntrance to the old field of general human psy- \nchology. If the soul of the child is the object, \nall studies of this kind group themselves with \ninquiries about other sides of the nature of \nchildren, with the anthropology and physiology \nand pathology of the child ; a bundle of inves- \ntigations for which the name "child study" is \nperfectly correct, while to some ears the name \n\n\n\n108 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\n"paidology" seems to sound better. If, on the \nother hand, the child\'s mind becomes an instru- \nment for investigating the phenomena and the \nlaws of the mental mechanism, then of course \nthe observation and experimentation on children \nis merely one of the many methods of empirical \npsychology, coordinated to the pathological and \nhypnotical and physiological and other methods \nwhich supplement by ways of indirect observa- \ntion the direct self-observation of our laboratory \nwork. It forms then a narrower group together \nwith the psychical studies of animals and primi- \ntive races, all aiding in the understanding of the \ncomplicated mental life of the highly developed \nadult man, by showing the different stages of \nontogenetic and phylogenetic development. Its \nspecial function can then well be compared with \nthe service of embryology to general human ana- \ntomy. If child study is an end in itself, every \nfact in the child\'s mental experiences is of equal \nimportance or at least of equal scientific dignity ; \nif it is only a method in the service of psycho- \nlogy, science will carefully select only those facts \nby which the labyrinth of the developed mind \nbecomes simpler and clearer while everything else \nremains indifferent. If child study is the ob- \nject, we start from our knowledge of the man to \ninterpret the child ; if child research is a method, \nwe seek knowledge about the child as a starting- \npoint for our interpretation of the man. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 109 \n\nThis is, however, not the only point of view \nfrom which to classify the manifold efforts which \nare possible in this realm ; it is the most central \ndivision, bnt it shows cross-sections with many \nother principles of division. The classification \nmay, for instance, refer to the different stages \nof development, especially according as the time \nbefore or in or after school life is in question. \nBut still more important : according as the ob- \nservation goes on under natural conditions or \nunder the artificial conditions of experiment; \naccording as the inquiries are of individual char- \nacter or seek for statistical results on the basis \nof large numbers; above all, according as the \nwork is done by professional, at least specially \nprepared, psychologists or by psychological ama- \nteurs, who may be most excellent creatures in \nevery other respect. Of course an exhaustive \nclassification ought not to stop here. We can \ndivide further ; for instance, as the psychologists \nin question are such as have their theories \nbeforehand or such as do not, and as the dilet- \ntants who observe the children are people who \nknow that they do not know psychology or peo- \nple who don\'t know even that. \n\nThe possible combination of all these factors \nsecures such a manifoldness of types of research \nin this field that the mere collection of the results \non the basis of coordination would contradict all \nprinciples of scientific methodology. If I may \n\n\n\n110 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nbe allowed a word of criticism, I should not \nhesitate to claim that child study ought to be a \nmethod and not an end ; that it ought to be done \nindividually and not statistically, by professionals \nand not by dilettants, more by natural observa- \ntion and less by experiments. These decisions \nhang, of course, closely together. If I take \npaidology as a science by itself, then perhaps \nI should also share that enthusiasm and de- \nlight over heaps of statistical and experimental \nresults which mothers, teachers, and nurses have \nbrought and certainly will bring together. But \nall my instincts about the inner relations and \nconnections of human knowledge resist to the \nutmost this artificial separation of child psycho- \nlogy from general psychology. I may write a \nspecial book on the mental life of the child just \nas I can write a monograph on memory or on hyp- \nnotism, but it has a final right of existence only in \nvirtue of its necessary place in the whole system \nof psychology. To be sure, the chief reason for \ntaking this attitude lies in a conviction which I \nmust bring: forward in the following discussion \nagain and again, and which is indeed the central \nmotive for my position in all these debates. I \nshall indicate the point most quickly if I say : \nPsychology is a study of mental facts, but not \nevery study of mental facts is therefore psycho- \nlogy. That psychology is a science and there- \nfore every science psychology, probably nobody \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 111 \n\npretends, and yet the logic of the conclusion \nwould not be worse than that which is so often \noffered to us when every gathering or interpre- \ntation or statistics of mental facts is claimed as \npsychology. Most of the material which the \nfriends of child study heap together is, even when \nmental facts and not physical ones are in ques- \ntion, nevertheless not psychology at all; and \nthat small remainder which really contributes to \na psychology of the child\'s mind belongs so \nclearly to general psychology that nobody would \ndream of an artificial separation if it were not \nusually so hopelessly mixed with unpsychological \nodds and ends. \n\nCertainly the good appetite of psychology has \nsometimes become voracity in our days, and she \nhas begun to devour all mental sciences, history \nand social life, ethics and logic, and finally, alas ! \nmetaphysics ; but that is not a development, it \nis a disease and a misfortune. And when the \nnecessary conflict between such high-handed psy- \nchology and the deep-rooted demands of the true \nlife begins, such uncritical science must burst \nasunder. Psychology would learn too late that \nan empirical science can be really free and pow- \nerful only if it recognize and respect its limits, \nabout which philosophy alone decides. The lim- \nits of psychology are easily understood. Psy- \nchology considers the mental life as an object \nwhich must be analyzed and explained, analyzed \n\n\n\n112 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\ninto elements and explained by laws. The psy- \nchologist, therefore, silently accepts the presup- \nposition that the mental life is such an object and \nthat this object is a combination of elements con- \ntrolled in their connection by causal laws. In \nthe reality of our inner experience our mental \nlife has not at all these characteristics : the ideas \nare objects, while the feelings and volitions are \nsubjective activities, and these objects are experi- \nenced as wholes and units, not as composita, and \nthese activities as controlled by freedom, not by \nlaws. Psychology thus presupposes for its pur- \nposes a most complicated transformation of the \nreality, and any attitude toward the mental life \nwhich does not need or choose this special trans- \nformation may be something else, but it is not \npsychology. Practical life and history, mental \nscience and poetry, logic and ethics, religion and \nphilosophy, all deal with mental life, but never \nwith psychology as such. Not the material but \nthe special standpoint characterizes the psycho- \nlogist. \n\nIll \n\nAs soon as we are clear in regard to this ele- \nmentary philosophical principle we cannot in- \ndeed doubt any longer that most of the so-called \nchild psychology is partly history, partly eco- \nnomics and ethics, partly physiology, partly no- \nthing at all, but is decidedly not psychology. To \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 113 \n\nbe fair I choose as illustration one of the very \nbest investigations in the field, one which seems \nto me seriously interesting and important : the \nextended statistical studies about the stock of \nideas which a child has when it enters the school. \nThe differences between city and country chil- \ndren, between different home influences, between \ndifferent nations, and so forth, come clearly to \nview, and the results suggest a continuation of \nthese studies \xe2\x80\x94 but these results do not belong \nto psychology. The material of this inquiry is \nideas, but these ideas not with regard to their con- \nstitution and their elements, but with regard to \ntheir practical distribution : it is not scientific bot- \nany to find out in whose yard in the town cherries, \nin whose yard apples grow. Suppose the same \ninvestigation made for adult persons : among a \nthousand men of fifty years of age how many \nhave had impressions from such and such ob- \njects ? How many have seen a phonograph and \nhow many a walrus ? The results would be a \nquite interesting contribution to the history of \ncivilization, but nobody would think of classify- \ning it under the psychology of the adult man, as \nwe do not learn anything about the psychologi- \ncal structure and origin of an idea if we know \nthat A happened to experience it while B never \nhad a chance. Such an imitation of the so- \ncalled psychological studies on children by sim- \nilar studies on adults will perhaps give us the \n\n\n\n114 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nreadiest insight into their real character. The \n" Pedagogical Seminary " offers us a splendid \ncollection of the teasing and bullying phrases \nwhich are in the mind of children, or it reports \nwith careful statistics that among 845 children \nexactly 191 preferred wax dolls, 163 paper dolls, \n153 china dolls, 144 rag dolls, 116 bisque dolls, \n69 rubber dolls, and so on, or it studies the love \npoems of boys and discovers that among 356 \npoems only 91 refer to the eyes, 50 to their ex- \npression, 41 to their color \xe2\x80\x94 blue leading with \n22. We could choose just as well a hundred \nother illustrations. Now let us try to repeat \nsuch inquiries with adult men : let us find out \nwhat preferences they have in cigarette-holders \nand meerschaum pipes, or how often they refer \nto the eyes in flirting, or what their disponible \nmaterial of nicknames and abusive words may \nbe. The results will not be much less instruc- \ntive than those from the study of children, but \nsurely you would not call them psychology. \n\nIf we thus exclude everything which is not \nreally psychological, there still remains a good \nset of problems which belong strictly to the \npsychology of the child ; the analytic study \nof its perceptions and associations, its memory \nand attention, its feelings and emotions, its in- \nstincts and volitions, its apperceptions and judg- \nments, to be described and explained with regard \nto their elements and laws ; but this group can \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 115 \n\ncertainly not be separated from the psychology \nof the adult. There are the same elements and \nthe same laws building up the mental life in all \nits different stages of development. The study \nof the child\'s mind then shows itself clearly as \nthat which we claimed it to be : one of the \nmany legitimate methods of studying the mental \nlaws and elements in general. We could better \nhave a special botany of the blossoms or a zoo- \nlogy of the eggs as scientific ends in themselves \nthan a separated psychology of the children. \nOn the other hand, if it is truly a method and \nvehicle of general mind study, then certain con- \nsequences are unavoidable. In the service of \ngeneral psychology child study must first select \nits problems. What is the use of analyzing with \nthe doubtful means of indirect observation those \npsychical states which we can find as the objects \nof direct observation in our own minds? Only \nthat must be selected which allows us to push \nthe analysis forward by showing our complicated \nstates as preceded by simpler and simpler ones. \nBut if the leading principle is thus a selection \nof material best fitted for clearing up the de- \nvelopment of the complex combination of ele- \nments, it follows that the study of individual \nchildren is by far superior to the statistics in \nwhich the individual disappears, and that pro- \ntracted observation is by far more important \nthan the experimental investigation of a special \n\n\n\n116 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nstage. It follows, secondly, that the work must \nbe done by trained specialists or not at all. That \nchild study which has for its aim only the collec- \ntion of curiosities about the child, as an end in \nitself, may be grateful to the nurse who writes \ndown some of the baby\'s naughty answers or to \nthe teacher who sacrifices half an hour of her \nlesson to make experiments in the classroom to \nfill out the blanks that are mailed to her. The \nstudents of that scientific child psychology which \nstands in the service of the general mind study \nknow how every step in the progress of our sci- \nence has depended upon the most laborious, \npatient work of our laboratories and the most \nsubtle and refined methods, and that all this \nseductive but rude and untrained and untech- \nnical gathering of cheap and vulgar material \nmeans a caricature and not an improvement of \npsychology. And it is not only the lack of tech- \nnical training which brings these contributions \nso near to hunting stories and their value for \nscientific biology. No, it is, above all, the ab- \nsence of the psychological attitude. That is in \nmy eyes not an opprobrium against the teacher. \nI consider it to the teacher\'s credit that the \nchild is not an object of analysis for him, but I \nblame those who make the teacher believe that \nhis observations nevertheless have value for psy- \nchology. \n\nOf course I know that some of the more sober \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 117 \n\nleaders of this movement emphasize very little \nthe scientific value of such private adventurous \nexpeditions of parents and school-teachers, and \npraise most highly the expected result that the \nteachers themselves get thus a more vivid inter- \nest in the children. I have to discuss this point \nlater, and acknowledge here only that the young \nscholars themselves begin to doubt whether the \ngossip contained in these blanks means science \nor rubbish. Those who doubt, however, ought \nnot to find comfort in the frequent comparison \nthat the guileless teacher may collect the facts o\xc2\xa3 \nthe young souls like the wanderer who brings \nplants and stones home which the naturalist will \nuse later as material. No, psychological ma- \nterial cannot be put into the pocket like a stone ; \nit is not the fixation and communication of the \nfound and perceived material only that have \ntheir difficulties, but the finding and perceiving \nthemselves are in the highest degree dependent \nupon associations and theories already stored up. \nFinally, even if all the stuff is reliable and \ntruly psychological, still we ought not to ex- \naggerate our hopes for real information. As \nlong as the thousand little facts are not con- \nnected by a theory, the facts are dead masses, \nand if they are only illustrations of a theory, \nthey do not teach us anything new. It will \nbe a very exceptional case that a new insight \ninto a law can be reached in this chance way ; \n\n\n\n118 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nphysics, in spite of Bacon\'s recommendation, \nhas certainly never reached anything in this \nway. At best the result will be a psychologi- \ncal commonplace. The " Pedagogical Seminary" \nprints 375 thoughts and reasonings observed in \nchildren, and true to its scientific intention it \nadds that this material is not sufficient. But I \nconfess that I do not see what profit could pos- \nsibly result for the psychologist from even three \nmillions of such sayings. If we do not know \nthe general facts of association, attention, apper- \nception, and conception, then the whole material \nis mere gossip without psychological interest; \nand if we do know them and presuppose as a \nmatter of course that the child has smaller ex- \nperiences, fewer associations, and so on, then \nthe material teaches us no more for the psy- \nchology of thought and reasoning than a collec- \ntion of any 375 sentences of adult persons would \ndo. Yet these nobody would think of reprint- \ning. We ought not to deceive ourselves with \ntrivialities. It is not science to make exact sta- \ntistics of even the pebbles on the road or to \ncollect the description of a hundred cases where \nthe law of gravity was confirmed by the falling \ndown of apples. Let us delay such luxury till \nthe real duties of child psychology have been \nfulfilled; that is, till in the service of psycho- \nlogy the development of single mental functions, \nespecially of self-consciousness, of the will, of the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 119 \n\nemotions, and of the ideas of space and time in \nindividual children have been studied by really \ncompetent men with strictly scientific methods, \na line of work in which our gratitude is due to \nPreyer, Perez, Stanley Hall, Baldwin, Sully, and \nother psychologists for a most valuable begin- \nning. \n\nThe only part of the work for which I should \nwelcome the cooperation of untrained observers \nis the search for, not the real study of, abnormal \ncases. Pathological abnormalities in the child\'s \nmental life, in its emotions and imitations, its \nfeelings and its will, are psychologically decid- \nedly instructive, and the psychologist has no pos- \nsibility of finding them if the layman does not \ndraw his attention to them. Such unusual devi- \nations in full development strike the eye of every \nman ; no special psychological attitude is neces- \nsary. \n\nHitherto our question has been only to what \nextent theoretical psychology has an interest in \nchildren. In practice, however, this simple issue \nbecomes far more complicated by the hopes and \nfears which may be connected with this scientific \nwork in the interest of the children and of their \neducators. Of course psychology as such is not \nconcerned in this question ; psychology does not \nwork for a social premium and cannot be deter- \nmined in its course by social anxieties. But the \npsychologist, as a member of the social organ- \n\n\n\n120 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nism, has to adapt his endeavors to the needs of \nsociety ; he must feel encouraged if he shares \nthese social hopes and can feel himself an edu- \ncational benefactor, and he will modify his offi- \ncious disposition if he becomes convinced of the \neducational fears. The pessimistic group sees in \nall psychological experiments on children an un- \nsound interference with their natural develop- \nment, a kind of mental vivisection which, by its \nartificial stimulations and tensions, may become \nharmful to the health of the nervous system \nitself. Even observation under natural condi- \ntions seems to them of unfavorable influence on \nthe naivete and naturalness and modesty of the \nyoung subjects. Above all, they fear that the \nforced change of attitude in the teacher will do \nharm to the whole school life. In the interest \nof the teacher himself they add that such stud- \nies in the schoolroom burden the already over- \nburdened man with work for which he him- \nself does not feel sufficiently prepared ; that \nhe himself feels hampered by this new way of \nlooking on the children, not as friends, but as \ninteresting results of psychological laws; that \nhe needs every minute of his school hours for \nhis lessons, and that too often he confronts \nthe dilemma, either to follow his educational \nconscience or to follow a superintendent who \nbelieves in the newest educational fad. The \noptimistic group of course holds to the exactly \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 121 \n\nopposite view, sees no harm for the children, \nbut the bliss of a deepened interest of the teach- \ners in the children, and a subsequent lifting of \nthe whole standard of school life. It is clear \nthat such a background of antagonistic social \nmovements complicates highly the theoretical \nproblem. On the other hand, these hopes and \nfears about the practical effects of child psycho- \nlogy cannot be separated from the wider ques- \ntion what the teacher has to expect from psy- \nchology in general. \n\nIV \n\nOur plan to map out the whole manifoldness \nof antagonistic tendencies in the entire psycho- \neducational field brings us thus necessarily to a \nlarge group of new problems. We have dis- \ncussed so far whether the child can study psy- \nchology directly, and secondly, whether psycho- \nlogy can directly study the child. We must now \nask also whether psychology cannot have indi- \nrectly an influence on the child through the \nmedium of the teacher ; that is, whether the \nwork of the teacher can be modified by psycho- \nlogy. But the question shows at once many \nimportant subdivisions ; if we do not consider \nthem, the result must be the confusion of Babel. \nThe fact that we spoke before of the value of \nchild psychology for the teacher, and are now \ndiscussing psychology in general, suggests from \n\n\n\n122 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nthe start that we have to discriminate the differ- \nent departments of our science. It may be that \nchild psychology is educationally useless but \nphysiological psychology excellent, or that ex- \nperimental psychology is the elixir but rational \npsychology the poison of education. In any \ncase, however, we have no right to throw all \nsuch methodologically separated parts of mind- \nstudy together and to decide about right or \nwrong in a wholesale manner. But another di- \nvision of our question reaches still deeper : is \npsychology valuable to the teacher for his teach- \ning methods directly, or only indirectly through \nthe medium of a scientific educational theory ? \nIn the first case the teacher himself transforms \nhis psychological knowledge into educational ac- \ntivity; in the other case educational theory has \naccomplished for him the crystallization of edu- \ncational principles out of psychological sub- \nstances, and he can follow its advice, perhaps, \neven without himself knowing anything about \npsychology. The two cases are so absolutely \ndifferent that here, still more, an assenting or \ndissenting attitude toward the one proposition \ncannot have any significance at all with regard \nto the other. It may be just those who are \nconvinced that the teacher ought to study edu- \ncation, and that education ought to make the \nfullest use of psychology, who form the strongest \nopponents of the psychologizing teacher who \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 123 \n\nmanufactures his private educational theory from \nhis summer-school courses in experimental psy- \nchology. I shall therefore separate the two \nquestions fully, and ask first, how far the indi- \nvidual teacher can make direct use of psychology \nfor his teaching ; and secondly, how far psycho- \nlogy is useful for the science of education. \n\nI turn to the first question, which must now, \nas we have seen, be subdivided with regard to \nthe different departments of possible mind study. \nA full exposition of the different parts of psy- \nchology and their complicated mutual relations \nwould lead us, of course, far beyond the limits \nof this essay, but we cannot avoid giving our \nattention at least to some of the essential points. \nOf all the conceptions in question only that of \nchild psychology does not need any further in- \nterpretation. We have seen that it does not by \nany means include every scientific interest with \nregard to the mental life of the child, but only \nthose studies which consider its mental life under \nthe categories of psychology, \xe2\x80\x94 that is, with re- \ngard to their elements and their causal laws ; we \nhave seen further that a child psychology of this \ntype does not claim to be an end in itself, but \nonly a method of general psychology. \n\nStill simpler, if rightly understood, is the situ- \nation of u experimental psychology." Here there \nis still less doubt that it is separated from the \nother branches, not by its special objects, but \n\n\n\n124 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nonly by its special method \xe2\x80\x94 the experiment. \nThe frequent misunderstandings which exist arise \nonly when it is identified with indirect observa- \ntion in opposition to self -observation, or is claimed \nas a mathematical science in opposition to a \nmerely qualitative analysis, or is understood as \nphysiological psychology. All that is impossible. \nIn the first place, experimental psychology is so \nlittle in opposition to self-observation that self- \nobservation forms really the largest part of ex- \nperimental psychology ; we can say that the whole \nwork of our modern psychophysical laboratories \nmust be characterized as essentially introspection, \nbut introspection under artificial conditions. To \nbe sure, experiments with indirect observation \nalso are possible, such as experiments on hypno- \ntized subjects, on animals, and so forth, but they \nare only exceptional guests in our laboratories. \nExperimental psychology in any case exists wher- \never psychological observations, direct or indirect, \nare made under artificial conditions chosen for \nthe special purpose of the observation. Secondly, \nexperimental psychology is so little a mathemati- \ncal science that every hope of introducing math- \nematics, even into the smallest corner of it, must \nreadily be recognized as a failure in principle. \nPsychical facts are not and cannot be measur- \nable, and the more and less in our mental life \nnever means an addition of psychical elements ; \nwe measure the physical conditions, but never \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 125 \n\nthe mental facts themselves. Finally, experimen- \ntal psychology is so far from identical with phy- \nsiological psychology that we may even say that \nfor its existence it does not need any relation to \nphysiology at all. In our laboratories we study \nexperimentally association and memory, attention \nand apperception, space sense and time sense, \nfeelings and will, without being obliged to re- \ncognize officially that there exists a brain at all. \n\nThat brings us to the question of what physio- \nlogical psychology is, as the latter statement pre- \nsupposes a definition of the term with which not \nevery one would agree. The word has indeed \nbeen used with quite different meanings. We \ncan separate especially two types of use, a wider \nand a narrower one. In the wider sense of the \nword physiological psychology means the study \nof mental phenomena in their whole relation to \nphysiological processes, central or peripheral, in \nthe brain or in the sense organs, in the nerves \nor blood vessels or muscles. In the narrower \nsense it means only the study of the relation \nbetween the mental facts and the accompanying \nphysiological brain processes. The merely ter- \nminological question is not essential for us, and \nit is indeed in part only terminological, as there \ncannot be any doubt that studies of both kinds \nare legitimate. Nevertheless there are good rea- \nsons for getting rid of the first use of the word \nand for sticking to the second. The first use \n\n\n\n126 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nsuggests clearly the mistaken idea that there \ncan be a psychology which does not refer, not \nonly for explanation but also for description and \nanalysis, at every moment to peripheral physical \nfacts. This is not a defect or a caprice of our \npresent psychology ; for epistemological reasons \nthere can never be any analytic description of \npsychical facts which does not refer directly or \nindirectly to the physical objects which are in \nrelation to our organism. The psychical fact as \nsuch is just as indescribable as it is unmeasurable, \nsince it is the object which by its very nature \nexists for one only and which remains therefore \never incommunicable. Every attempt to have a \nscience which describes mental facts must thus \nat every stage relate the psychical facts to the \nphysical facts ; in short, there cannot be any em- \npirical psychology at all which from beginning \nto end is not simply physiological psychology in \nthe wider sense of the word. The addition of \nthe word " physiological " has then no longer any \nmeaning ; it does not, if we think consistently, \nmark any special group of studies, as it belongs \nto all, and this whole is certainly better charac- \nterized by the epithet " empirical," which stands \nover against " speculative," than by " physiologi- \ncal," which has no correlative and which we need \nmuch more for a special group of psychophy- \nsiological problems. The study of the mental \nfacts in their relation to the physiological brain \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 127 \n\nprocesses is indeed a scientific field by itself, with \nits own anatomical and physiological and patho- \nlogical methods and with its own theoretical \nunity. But this field has an aspect quite different \nfrom what most people, and even most teachers, \nbelieve. They believe often that the analysis \nof psychical facts was in a poor and rather un- \nscientific condition till the developed brain phy- \nsiology, with its cells and fibres and gyri and \ncentres, came and helped her poor relation. \nKeally it is not at all so. Psychology knows \nendlessly more about these details than physiology, \nand in the development of the special psycho- \nphysiological theories psychology has always \nled, and taught physiology how to interpret the \nchaos of brain facts. Brain physiology with- \nout psychology would have been perfectly blind, \nwhile psychology without detailed brain physio- \nlogy would have stood exactly where it stands to- \nday, if we allow to psychology the general a priori \npostulate that every mental fact is the accom- \npaniment of a physical process. This postulate \nis merely epistemological, and therefore independ- \nent of our knowledge of physiology. We must \ndemand it because mental facts, as they are not \nquantitative, cannot enter into any causal equa- \ntion. The demand for a causal interpretation \nof the mental life includes, therefore, the postu- \nlate that it must be transformed so that every \nelement can be conceived as linked with a physio- \n\n\n\n128 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nlogical process, but whether that process is going \non in the occipital or in the parietal part of the \nbrain is, for psychology, absolutely indifferent. \nIn short, the whole physiological psychology \nconsists of two factors : first, a general theory \nof psychophysiological relations which is based \nmerely on philosophical and general biological \nprinciples and does not need physiology at all, \nand second, psychophysiological details which \nare important for the physiologist, but for psy- \nchology are a useless luxury. The special physi- \nology of the brain, which in any case is still an \nalmost unknown field, does not therefore help \nthe psychologist anywhere; in my lectures on \npsychology before my students I hardly speak \nat all about the brain centres and the ganglion \ncells, and to base on them psychological insight \nturns our whole knowledge topsy-turvy. \n\n\n\nThe three usually vague and misinterpreted \nconceptions of child psychology, experimental \npsychology, and physiological psychology have \nnow taken for us clear and sharp forms, and we \nunderstand the relative importance of their aims. \nWe must now ask of what use they are for the \nindividual teacher. My answer is simple and is \nthe same for all the three branches : I maintain \nthat they are not of the slightest use. Whether \nthe special mental facts are in the one or the other \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 129 \n\ngyrus of the brain, whether the development of \nthe child\'s mind favors the one or the other \ntheory about the constitution of a special mental \nphenomenon with regard to its psychophysical \nelements, and finally, whether laboratory experi- \nments follow this or that track, are questions of \nabsolutely no consequence to the teacher. Of \ncourse I have not the right to speak about my \npersonal attitude, as I started to show objec- \ntively the opposing positions, but I confess in \nthis case I do not see two sides at all. I do not \nsee how any one can hope that the teacher will \nprofit for his teaching methods from these three \nfields the moment they are correctly defined and \nare not mixed in the usual melange with other \nthings. Where a serious plea for them is made, \nalways either the psychological fields are mis- \ninterpreted or the teacher is substituted for the \nscience of education. \n\nThe case of physiological psychology is the \nsimplest one. There was never a teacher who \nwould have taught otherwise, or would have \nchanged his educational efforts, if the physiologi- \ncal substratum of the mental life had been the \nliver or the kidneys instead of the brain. We \nhave seen that here psychology has nothing at \nall to learn from physiology, and that it is a \ncaricature of the facts if you tell the teacher \nthat he can learn anything new about the men- \ntal life if he knows by heart the accompanying \n\n\n\n130 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nbrain processes ; and if the teacher, in the hope \nof understanding the inner life of children better, \nstudies the ganglion cells under the microscope, \nhe could substitute just as well the reading of \nEgyptian hieroglyphs. All talk about the brain \nis, from the standpoint of the teacher, merely \ncant, and I say this frankly at the risk of giv- \ning pleasure to those who do not deserve it \xe2\x80\x94 to \nthose who are only too lazy to study anatomy. \n\nI insist that the situation lies in no way more \nfavorably for child psychology and experimental \npsychology. Both sciences, as we saw, have as \ntheir aim to be methods of analysis and explana- \ntion of the normal psychical facts. Child psy- \nchology reaches that goal by following up the \ndevelopment ; experimental psychology reaches it \nby introducing artificial variations of the outer \nconditions. Both have thus merely the one pur- \npose, to aid our looking on mental life as if it \nwere a combination of elements, a composition \nof psychophysical atoms. I know that such a \ntransformation of the inner life is extremely im- \nportant for many scientific purposes, but I am \nconvinced, too, that such an atomizing attitude is \ndirectly antagonistic to the attitude of the true \npractical life, and thus opposed to the natural \ninstincts of the teacher toward his pupils. In \npractical life our friends come in question for us \nonly as units ; their mental life interests us only \nin so far as it means something to us and ex- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 131 \n\npresses the real, willing personality. Decompose \nit for logical ends into its constructed elements of \natomistic sensations, and their sum is no longer \nthe inner life of our friend. The naturalistic de- \ncomposition into elements is most valuable for its \npurposes, but the purposes of life and friendship \nand love and education are others. There is no \nnecessary competition between these different \npurposes ; that which serves the one is as true as \nthat which serves the other, because truth never \nmeans a mere repetition of the one reality, but a \ntransformation of reality in the direction of logi- \ncal ends. The view of man as a free being, as \nhistory must see him, is equally true with the \nview of man as an unf ree being, as psychology \nmust see him ; and the friends\' and educators\' \nview of the child as the indissoluble unit and \nwillful personality is just as valuable and true as \nthe psychologist\'s view which sees it as a psy- \nchophysical complex mechanism. You destroy \na consistent psychology if you force on it the \ncategories of practical life, but you also destroy \nthe values of our practical life if you force on \nthem the categories of psychology. In experi- \nmental psychology, or in child psychology, the \nemotion may show itself as composed of circula- \ntory and muscular elements, and the will as made \nup from muscle and joint and skin sensations ; \nbut if you offer such transformed product to the \nteacher, you do worse than if you should offer to \n\n\n\n132 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\na thirsty man one balloon filled with hydrogen \nand another with oxygen instead of a good swal- \nlow of water. The chemist is quite right : that \nis water ; the fainting man insists that it is not, \nand life speaks always the language of the thirsty. \nDo I mean by all this that the teacher ought \nto be without interest in the mental life of the \nchildren, a dull and indifferent creature without \nsympathy for the individualities and desires and \ncharacteristics of the pupils ? Just the contrary \nis true. I detest this mingling of the teacher \nwith psychology just because I do not wish to \ndestroy in him the powers of sound and natural \ninterest. It has been my point from the start \nthat not every interest in mental life is psycho- \nlogy, but that psychology studies mental life from \na special point of view. I therefore separated \nchild psychology sharply from other kinds of \ninterest in children\'s minds, and the psychologi- \ncal sciences from the historical and normative \nsciences. Certainly the teacher ought to study \nchildren and men in general, but with the \nstrictly anti-psychological view ; he ought to ac- \nknowledge them as indissoluble unities, as cen- \ntres of free will the functions of which are not \ncausally but teleologically connected by interests \nand ideals, not by psychophysical laws. The \nstudy of the mental life of man from this other \npoint of view is not a special science ; it belongs \npartly to history and literature, partly to logic \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 133 \n\nand ethics and philosophy, partly to poetry and \nreligion. Here may the teacher wander at his \nease, and he will learn to understand man, while \npsychology teaches him only to decompose man. \nHave you never observed what bad judges of \nmen in real life the psychologists are, and what \nexcellent judges of men the history-makers and \nhistorians are ? Not a little of this desirable \nknowledge about the real inner man and his \nunity of intentions may be found also in the so- \ncalled " rational psychology." To be sure, in its \ndeductions it is often too dependent upon met- \naphysics, and, above all, we must not forget \nthat, strictly speaking, it is not psychology at \nall, since it aims at synthesis, not at analysis ; \nbut it is full of that which the teacher needs : \nsuggestions to intensify interest for the child\'s \nmind by a deeper understanding of its volitional \nrelations, and by a critical appreciation of men- \ntal values for the inner life. The teacher needs \ninterest in the mental life from the point of view \nof interpretation and appreciation; the psycho- \nlogist, with his child psychology and experi- \nmental and physiological psychology, gives him \nand must give him only description and expla- \nnation. Pestalozzi and Froebel were no psycho- \nlogists. \n\nThis standpoint does not at all exclude the \nexistence of facts which demand that the teacher \nchange his attitude and consider the child from \n\n\n\n134 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nthe naturalistic atomistic psychophysical point of \nview ; and for this case also the teacher ought to \nbe prepared. I have in mind the facts related \nto physical and mental health. To be sure, the \nquestions of hygiene, of light and air and re- \nfreshment and fatigue, of normal sense organs \nand muscles, as well as of normal mental func- \ntions, of pathological instincts and emotions, ab- \nnormal inhibitions and mental diseases, are by \na hundred threads connected with the school- \nroom, and there is not the slightest doubt that \nthey have to be treated from the psychophysical \npoint of view. That is no inconsistency ; these \nfacts belong indeed to an absolutely different \nsystem of relations, which has to be cared for, \nbut which is not the system of educational rela- \ntions. The word which I am writing now be- \nlongs to the stream of my thoughts and at the \nsame time to the stream of my fountain pen \xe2\x80\x94 I \nhave to take care of both. In the moment \nwhen the teacher takes care of the child\'s myo- \npia or hysteria he is not teacher but psychophy- \nsiological adviser of the child, just as it is not \nmy function as a scholar to fill my fountain pen. \nNobody overlooks that it is extremely important \nfor society that the teacher should be well pre- \npared to fulfill this naturalistic function, too. \nMuch misfortune could be avoided if every \nteacher were especially trained to recognize \npathological disturbances of the mind in their \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 135 \n\nfirst beginnings, and for that he would indeed \nneed some real psychology. Only do not say \nthat he needs the psychology as teacher, while \nhe may remain a good teacher in spite of the \npsychology which he studies in the service of \nhygiene. \n\nVI \n\nThis last discussion referred only to the ques- \ntion how far psychology interests the individual \nteacher as a help in his efforts, but that was only \none side of the more general problem, how far \npsychology can be helpful to education. There \nremains the other side : how can psychology in- \nfluence education through the mediating channel \nof a scientific educational theory; and it is clear \nthat here again the questions are so independ- \nent of each other that a mixture of the two \nmust result in confusion. We can be convinced \nthat the view of the teacher ought not to be \npsychological, and we can nevertheless demand \nthat education as science make the fullest pos- \nsible use of every branch of psychology. Ex- \nactly that has always been, and is to-day, my \nhope. \n\nTo be sure, the impression which theories of \neducation make in our day is in no way over- \nwhelming. The demand for educational wisdom \nis decidedly greater than the supply, and neither \ngreat systems nor imposing thoughts character- \n\n\n\n136 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nize the pedagogy of our age. The whole edu- \ncational trade does its business to-day with small \ncoin. Our time needs a man like Herbart again. \nBut at least one very favorable condition for the \nstrong development of education is given : the \nwidespread conviction that we need it. No pre- \nvious time has so seriously called for a special- \nist^ help from scientific education, and if, for \nwant of revolutionizing great thoughts, we de- \nmand anything from it, then we demand that it \nshall carefully make use of the whole empirical \nknowledge of our time to transform it into sug- \ngestions for the teacher. A responsible admin- \nistration will then further transform these sug- \ngestions into obligatory prescriptions. Among \nthis empirical knowledge which education unites \ninto a new practical synthesis psychology cer- \ntainly plays one of the most important roles in \ndetermining the means by which the educational \nends can be worked out. There is no reason to \nconfine this to a special branch of psychology ; \nall that the analytical study of mind offers by \nexperimental or physiological methods, by self- \nobservation or by statistics, by child psychology \nor by pathology, by " old " or by " new " means, \nin short, the best and fullest psychology of the \ntime has to be one of the tools in the workshop \nof education. The educational scholar differs in \ntwo essential respects clearly from the individual \nteacher. First, while the teacher\'s practical atti- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 137 \n\ntude must suffer, as we saw, by the influence of \nthe antagonistic psychological attitude in the \nsame consciousness, the theoretical scholar, who \nis not himself a teacher, can of course easily com- \nbine the two attitudes and alternate between \nthem. The teacher must live fully in the one \nattitude, and every opposite impulse inhibits \nhim ; the student of education remains in a \ntheoretical relation to each of them, and can \ntherefore easily link them. He can take the \nwhole wisdom of psychology and physiology and \nremold it into suggestions for the practical \nteaching attitude. The teacher ought thus to \nreceive finally, indeed, the influence of psycho- \nlogy, but only if the causal facts are transformed \nby some one else beforehand into teleological \nconnections, adapted to the teacher\'s unpsycho- \nlogical work. The bread which the teacher \nbakes for his classes comes indeed partly from \nthe wheat on psychological fields, but the corn \nmust be ground beforehand in the educational \nmills. And the second point is not less im- \nportant : such transformation of psychological \ninvestigations into ideas how to teach may suc- \ncessfully be done by the steady cooperation of a \nlarge number of specialists who make a whole \nlifework of it, but absolutely never by a single \nteacher. He may run through laboratories and \ndigest statistical tables; he may commit to mem- \nory the numberless papers of the periodicals \n\n\n\n138 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nand feast on microscopical ganglion cells, but \nnowhere will he find anything which suggests \nreally a whole plan or a straight impulse. A \nthousand little odds and ends without the slight- \nest unity will be in his hand, and if he really \nbelieves himself to have the material for a little \nprescription, then he probably does not see how \ndirectly it contradicts other indications. It is \nimpossible for him to survey the whole field, and \nnobody can ask him to do privately, by the way, \na work which would give sufficient occupation to \na whole generation. Even the slightest progress \nin the field presupposes a full acquaintance with \nthe whole literature of the special subject. We \ncannot demand that from the much-burdened \npractical teacher, even for any one problem ; \nhow absurd to hope it for all those which he \npractically needs : for memory and attention, for \nimagination and intellect, for emotion and will, \nfor fatigue and play, and a hundred other im- \nportant functions. Do we not lay a special link- \ning science everywhere else between the theory \nand practical work ? We have engineering be- \ntween physics and the practical workingmen in \nthe mills ; we have a scientific medicine between \nthe natural sciences and the physician. If a \nman prepared with the most wonderful know- \nledge of the anatomy, physiology, pathology, \nand chemistry of the century should begin med- \nical practice and write prescriptions without \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 139 \n\nhaving passed through a training in real medicine, \nhe would be either the wildest quack, curing \none organ at the expense of a dozen others, or \nhe would throw away his theoretical wisdom \nand follow his practical instincts. The ten thou- \nsand little laboratory experiments he knows \nwould only confuse him if a whole generation of \nmedical men had not, in specialistic cooperation, \nworked them up for practical use. Only, two \npoints such a theory of education must not \noverlook. \n\nOn the one hand, education forgets too easily \nthat such psychophysical material is only a part \nof the stuff to be mixed and filtered and brought \ninto solution before educational principles are \ncrystallized. The causal analysis of the psycho- \nphysical variations and possibilities must at every \npoint be combined with the teleological inter- \npretation of the ends suggested by ethics and \naesthetics, by history and religion. It is not \nenough to substitute for a serious study and \nexamination of the latter half a mere personal \ntaste and capricious instinct, which takes as a \nmatter of course that which ought to be scienti- \nfically criticised. Carelessness in the teleological \npart makes the synthesis just as dilettantic and \nuseless as ignorance about the causal material. \nNothing ought there to be taken for granted. \nTake one simple illustration instead of a thou- \nsand. The statistics show a very poor knowledge \n\n\n\n140 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nof the natural objects of the country on the \npart of the youngest school children. The in- \nvestigator draws the educational conclusion that \npreparation in that respect must be improved. \nBut who gives us a scientific right to take for \ngranted that early acquaintance with natural \nobjects is at all desirable? \' Socrates did not \nthink so; not the stones but only men can teach \nus. The best education is certainly not that \nwhich gives a little bit of everything. We must \ndevelop some and must inhibit other psycholo- \ngical possibilities; psychology as such cannot \ndecide on that. Only when education succeeds \nreally in amalgamizing the two sides, and be- \ncomes something else than merely picked-out \npsychology, can we tell the teacher that he will \nfind that study of man which he desires not \nonly in philosophy and history and literature, \nbut also in the handbooks and seminaries of \neducation. \n\nBut education must appreciate a second point \nalso. It cannot expect to find all necessary psy- \nchological and physiological information always \nready-made. As no science is merely a collec- \ntion of scraps, psychology as such cannot ex- \namine every possible psychological fact in the \nuniverse, but must select just those which are \nessential for the understanding of the psychical \nelements and laws. This choice in the interest \nof psychology differs of course fully from the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 141 \n\nchoice of psychical facts which education would \nmake for its own purposes. Here the science of \neducation must take the matter in its own hand \nand must work up, with all the subtle means \nand methods of modern psychology, those psy- \nchological phenomena which are important for \nthe special problems ; the most intimate relation \nto psychological laboratories is here a matter \nof course. In what form education will fulfill \nthis demand may itself be at first a matter of \neducational experiment. Some believe in spe- \ncial psycho-educational experimental laborato- \nries, some believe in special experimental schools, \nand recently the proposition was made for the \nappointment of special school psychologists at- \ntached to the superintendent\'s office in large \ncities. In any case the work has to be done ; \nthe psychologist as such cannot do it, and the \nteacher cannot do it, either. For the psycho- \nlogist it would be a burden, for the teacher it \nwould be a most serious danger; the student \nof education alone can do it. Of course even \nthese adjuncts of superintendents, and these prin- \ncipals of experimental schools, must never forget \nthat their work always refers only to the one \nhalf, which is misleading without the other half \n\xe2\x80\x94 to the causal system, which must be harmon- \nized with the teleological one. \n\nPersonally I consider the psycho-educational \nlaboratory as the most natural step forward. \n\n\n\n142 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nSuch laboratories would be psychophysical labo- \nratories, in which the problems are selected and \nadjusted from the standpoint of educational \ninterest. All that has been done so far in our \npsychological laboratories for the study of atten- \ntion, memory, apperception, imagination, and so \non, in spite of seductive titles, has almost never \nhad anything to do with that part of these func- \ntions which is essential for the mental activities \nof the classroom. While the individual teacher, \nas we have seen, ought to keep away from our \npsychological laboratories because our attitude \nis opposed to his, the student of education ought \nto keep away from us because, in spite of the \nsame attitude, we have too seldom problems \nbelonging to his field. It is a waste of energy \nto hunt up our chronoscope tables and kymo- \ngraph records for little bits of educational in- \nformation which the psychologist has brought \nforward by chance; sciences cannot live from \nthe chances of work which is intended for \nother purposes. When in the quiet experimental \nworking place of the psycho-educational scholar, \nthrough the steady cooperation of specialists, a \nreal system of acknowledged facts is secured, \nthen the practical attempts of the consulting \nschool psychologist and of the leader of experi- \nmental classrooms have a safer basis, and their \nwork in its turn will help the theoretical scholar \ntill the cooperation of all these agents produces \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION 143 \n\na practical education which the teacher will \naccept without experimenting himself. Then \nthe teacher may learn psychology, to understand \nafterward theoretically the educational theory he \nis trained in, but he himself has not to make \neducational theory nor to struggle with psycho- \nlogical experiments. \n\nThere need be no fear that such psycho-educa- \ntional laboratories would have too few problems \nat their disposal ; a fear which may be suggested \nby the fact that the friends of this movement \nalways refer to the same few show pieces, the \nexperiments on fatigue, on memory, and on asso- \nciation. The situation would develop just as \ntwenty-five years ago did that of experimental \npsychology, which itself lived at first only from \nthe crumbs that fell from the table of other sci- \nences \xe2\x80\x94 physics and physiology. It also began \nwith only a few chance questions, with the \nthreshold of sensations and reaction times ; but \nsince it has wrought in its own workshops, for \nits own points of view and interests, it has con- \nquered the whole realm of psychology. In the \nsame way psycho-educational experiments will \nextend the work to all the functions active in \neducation. Such new studies will then show \nhow incomplete an essay like this is, and how \nmany other relations still exist between the child \nand the study of mental life. But even this \nincomplete enumeration is sufficient to show at \n\n\n\n144 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION \n\nleast one thing : the question whether there is \na connection between psychology and education \ncannot be answered simply with yes or no, but \nmust be answered by firstly, secondly, thirdly, \nfourthly \xe2\x80\x94 I do not discuss whether we can ever \nsay also : lastly. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\n\n\nCommon sense, which is to-day, as it has been \nsince eternity, merely the trivialized edition of \nthe scientific results of the day before yesterday, \nis just now on the psychological track. The \nscientists felt some years ago that the psycholo- \ngical aspect of the products of civilization was \ntoo much neglected, and that the theoretical \nproblem how to bring the creations of social life \nunder the categories of psychology might find \nsome new and interesting answers in these days \nof biological, physiological, experimental, and \npathological psychology. Thus the scientific \nstudy of the psychology of society and its func- \ntions has made admirable progress. Science, of \ncourse, took this only as a special phase of the \nmatter ; it did not claim to express the reality of \nlanguage and history, law and religion, econom- \nics and technics, in describing and explaining \nthem as psychological facts. Therefore science \ndid not forget the more essential truth that \ncivilization belongs to a world of purposes and \nduties and ideals; at present, indeed, science \n\n\n\n146 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nemphasizes decidedly this latter view, and has \nchanged the direction of its advance. Common \nsense, as usual, has not yet perceived this \nchange of course. Ten years may pass before \nit finds it out. Above all, one-sided as ever, \ncommon sense has misunderstood the word of \ncommand, as if the psychological aspect must \nbe taken as the only possible aspect, and as if \npsychology could reach the reality. Therefore \ncommon sense marches on, still waving the flag \nof psychology, and with it its regular drum \ncorps, the philistines. \n\nThis pseudo-philosophical movement, which \ntakes the standpoint of the psychologist wrongly \nas a philosophical view-point of the whole inner \nworld, has found perhaps nowhere else so little \norganized resistance as in the realm of art ; for \nthe real artist does not care much about the \nright or wrong theory. For the same reason, \nindeed, it may seem that just here the influence \nof a warped theory must be very indifferent \nand harmless. A one-sided theory of crime may \nmislead the judge, who necessarily works with \nabstract theoretical conceptions ; but a one-sided \npsychological theory of art cannot do such harm, \nas the artist relies in any case on the wings of \nhis imagination, and mistrusts the crutches of \ntheories. This would certainly be the case if \nthere did not exist three other channels through \nwhich the wise and the unwise wisdom can influ- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 147 \n\nence, strengthen, and inhibit the creative power \nof art. \n\nThe market influence is one way; that is a \nsad story, but it is not the most important fac- \ntor, as the tragedy of the market depends much \nmore upon practical vulgarity than upon theo- \nretical mistakes. iEsthetical criticism is another \nway ; but even that is not the most dangerous, \nas it speaks to men who ought to be able to \njudge for themselves, although nobody doubts \nthat they do not do so. The most important of \nthe three, however, is art education in the \nschoolroom. Millions of children receive there \nthe influence that is strongest in determining \ntheir sesthetical attitude ; millions of children \nhave there the most immediate contact with the \nworld of the visible arts, and mould there the \nsense of refinement, of beauty, of harmony. \nSurely the drawing-teacher can have an incom- \nparable influence on the aesthetic spirit of the \ncountry, \xe2\x80\x94 far greater than critics and million- \naire purchasers, greater even than the profes- \nsional art schools. The future battles against \nthis country\'s greatest enemy, vulgarity, will be \nfought largely with the weapons which the draw- \ning-teachers supply to the masses. Whoever has \nattended their meetings or examined the exhibi- \ntions of schoolroom work knows that they do \nnot lack enthusiasm and industry, and that their \nimportance in the educational system is growing \n\n\n\n148 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nrapidly. But they are primary teachers, and \nprimary teachers are men who adore nothing \nmore than recently patented theories which ap- \npeal to common sense ; to-day they really feast \non psychology. The greater the influence, the \nmore dangerous is every wrong step on the the- \noretical line, the more necessary a sober inquiry \nas to how far all this talk about psychology and \nart really covers the ground. \n\nWe thus raise the question, what psychology \nand art have to do with each other, in its most \ngeneral form, at first without any relation to \nthe practical problems. If we acknowledge the \nquestion in such an unlimited form, we cannot \navoid asking, as a preamble to the discussion, \nwhether the work of art cannot be itself a man- \nual of psychology ; whether, especially, the poet \nought not to teach us psychology. We all have \nheard often that Shakespeare and Byron, Mere- \ndith and Kipling, are better psychologists than \nany scholar on the academic platform, or that \nHenry James has written even more volumes on \npsychology than his brother William. That is \na misunderstanding. The poet, so far as he \nworks with poetic tools, is never a psychologist ; \nif modern novelists of a special type sometimes \nintroduce psychological analysis, they make use \nof means which do not belong to pure art ; it is \na mixed style which characterizes decadence. \n\nIt is true that discussion would be meaning- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 149 \n\nless if we were ready to call every utterance \nwhich has to do with mental life psychology. \nPsychology does not demand abstract scientific \nforms ; it may be offered in literary forms, yet \nit means always a special kind of treatment of \nmental life. It tries to describe and to explain \nmental life as a combination of elements. The \ndissolution of the unity of consciousness into \nelementary processes characterizes psychology, \njust as natural science demands the dissection \nof physical objects ; the appreciation of a physi- \ncal object as a whole is never natural science, \nand the interpretation and suggestion of a men- \ntal state as a whole is never psychology. The \npoet, as well as the historian and the man of \npractical life, has this interpretation of the whole \nas his aim; the psychologist goes exactly the \nopposite way. They ask about the meaning, \nthe psychologist about the constitution ; and the \npsychological elements concern the poet as little \nas the microscopical cells of the tree interest the \nlandscape painter. The tree in the painting \nought, indeed, to be botanically correct ; it \nought not to appear contradictory to the results \nof the botanist\'s observations, but these results \nthemselves need not appear in the painting. In \nthe same way, we demand that the poet create \nmen who are psychologically correct, \xe2\x80\x94 at least \nin those cases in which higher sesthetical laws \ndo not demand the psychological impossibilities \n\n\n\n150 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nof fairyland, which are allowed like the botani- \ncal impossibilities of conventionalized flowers or \nthe anatomical impossibilities of human figures \nwith wings. We detest the psychologically \nabsurd creations of the stage villain and the \nstage hero in third-class melodrama, the psy- \nchological marionettes of newspaper novels, and \nthe frequent cases of insanity in poor fiction, \nfor which the schooled psychologist would make \nat once the diagnosis that there must be simula- \ntion in them, as the insane never act so. We \ndemand this psychological correctness, and the \ngreat poet instinctively satisfies it so fully that \nthe psychologist may acknowledge the creations \nof poetry as substitutional material for the psy- \nchical study of the living man. The psycholo- \ngist believes the poet, and studies jealousy from \nOthello, and love from Romeo, and neurasthenia \nfrom Hamlet, and political emotions from Caesar ; \nbut the creation of such lifelike men is in itself \nin no way psychology. \n\nThe poet creates mental life in suggesting it \nto the soul of the reader ; only the man who \ndecomposes it afterward is a psychologist. The \npoet works as life works ; the child who smiles \nand weeps causes us to think of pleasure and \npain too, but it offers us no psychological under- \nstanding of pleasure and pain. Just so the poet \nsmiles and weeps, and if he is a great artist, with \nstrong suggestive power, he forces our minds to \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 151 \n\nfeel with him, while we have only an intellectual \ninterest if he merely analyzes the emotions and \ngives us a handful of elements determined by \nabstract psychological conceptions. Popular lan- \nguage calls a poet a good psychologist if he cre- \nates men who offer manifold material for the \nanalysis of the psychologist; when the poet \nbegins to make that analysis himself, and to ex- \nplain with the categories of physiological psy- \nchology why the hero became a dreamer, and \nthe dreamer a hero, and the saint a sinner, he \nwill hinder his scientific effort by the desire to \nbe a poet, and will weaken his poetry by his \ninstructive side show. Meredith and Bourget \ndo it, Ibsen never. Poetry and psychology are \ndifferent, not because they speak a different \nlanguage, but because they take an absolutely \ndifferent attitude toward the mental life; the \nwisdom of the poet about the human soul does \nnot belong to a handbook of psychology. For \nmusic and the visible arts the whole question \nis non-existent, or at least ought not to exist. \nA side branch of it, nevertheless, continues to \ngrow in the old discussion whether music ought \nto " describe " the human feelings. The con- \nfusion about the logical meaning of description \nhere lies more on the surface ; theoretically the \ncase is the same as in poetry. The composer \ndescribes the emotions as little as the poet does ; \ntones and verses suggest the feelings, while it is \n\n\n\n152 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nan unmusical, unpoetical business to psycholo- \ngize about them ; but just that is our aim, if we \nconsider the preamble as closed, and ask once \nmore what art has to do with psychology. \n\nII \n\nWe have seen so far that art is not by itself \npsychology ; the remaining question, in which \nall centres, is, then, how far art can become an \nobject of psychology. The situation is simple. \nPsychology is the science which describes and \nexplains the mental processes. A physical thing \nor process, even a brain action, is never, there- \nfore, an immediate object of psychology. Every \nwork of art \xe2\x80\x94 the pencil drawing and the writ- \nten poem, the played melody and the sculptured \nstatue \xe2\x80\x94 exists as a physical thing ; hence the \nwork of art itself is never an object of psycho- \nlogy, and the description of it lies outside of the \npsychologist\'s province. The physicist describes \nthe tone waves of a melody ; the geometrician \ndescribes the lines and curves and angles of a \ndrawing. The physical object is in contact with \nthe human mind at two points : at its start and \nits goal. Every work of art springs from the \nmind of the artist, and reaches the mind of the \npublic ; its origin and its effect are both psychi- \ncal processes, and both are material for the de- \nscription and explanation of the psychologist. \nTwo groups of psychological problems are thus \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 153 \n\noffered, \xe2\x80\x94 two points of view for the psycholo- \ngical study of art; a third one cannot exist. \nThe one asks, By what psychological processes \ndoes the mind create art ? The other asks, By \nwhat psychological processes does the mind en- \njoy art ? \n\nModern psychology has attained to its rapid \nprogress of late years through the wonderful \ndevelopment of its methods ; it believes no \nlonger that one way alone will bring us to the \ngoal ; we have to adapt the methods to the pro- \nblem. It is quite clear that these two sesthetical \npsychological problems demand different meth- \nods. The question how the artist creates art \nlies beyond the self-observation of the psycholo- \ngist ; he must go back to the past. The ques- \ntion how the work of art influences the enjoying \nspectator can be studied by an analysis of his \nown sesthetical emotions. In the interest of \nthis self - observing analysis he may introduce \nexperimental methods, but he cannot make ex- \nperiments with the artistic production. On the \nother hand, the artistic creative functions may \neasily be traced down toward the art of the child, \nof the primitive races, even of the animals. And \nso the first group of investigations makes use \nchiefly of the sociological, biological, and his- \ntorical methods of psychology ; the second group \nfavors experimental methods. The larger ma- \nterial is at the disposal of the first group ; the \n\n\n\n154 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nmore exact treatment characterizes the second. \nWe cannot sketch the results here even in the \nmost superficial outlines ; we can recall only the \nmost general directions which these studies have \ntaken. \n\nFirst, the psychology of the art-creating pro- \ncess. The aesthetical psychologist, in our days \nof Darwinism, goes back to the play of animals. \nBiologically this is easily understood; the fre- \nquent playful contests are a most valuable train- \ning for action, \xe2\x80\x94 as necessary, therefore, for the \norganism in the struggle for existence as is any \nother function of the nervous system, and yet \nthey contain the most important elements of \naesthetic creation : they are actions which are \nuseless for the present state of the organism, \ncarried out for enjoyment only. Social psy- \nchology finds the more complicated forms of the \nsame impulses in the life of savages. We see \nhow the primitive races accompany their work \nby rhythmical songs, how their dances stir up \nlyrical poetry, how their tools and vessels and \nweapons and huts become decorated, how art \nsprings from the religious and social and tech- \nnical life. The psychologist links these first \ntraces of art with the productions of civilized \npeoples. His interest is not that of the philo- \nlogical historian ; he does not care for the single \nwork of art as the unique occurrence ; no, he \nlooks for the psychological laws which under the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 155 \n\nvarying circumstances produce just the given \nworks of poetry and sculpture, of music and \narchitecture and painting. We learn to under- \nstand how climate and political conditions, tech- \nnical, material, and social institutions, models \nand surrounding nature, brought it about that \nEgypt and China and India, or Greece and Italy \nand Germany, had just their own development \nof artistic production. Art becomes thus an \nelement of the social consciousness, together \nwith law and religion, science and politics ; but \nart is psychologically still more interesting than \nany other function of the national soul, because \nit is less necessary for the biological existence \nthan any other production of man. Art is there- \nfore freer, follows more easily every pressure \nand tension, every inner tendency and outer \nopportunity ; it can fully disappear even in the \nstrongest social organism, and can break out in \nfullest glory even in the weakest sociological \nbody. It is in its incomparable manifoldness \nand easiness of adaptation that art shows best \nhow the mental products of man are dependent \nupon the totality of variable conditions. \n\nWhile such a sociological view contrasts dif- \nferent periods and nations, psychology does not \noverlook the differences among individuals. The \ngeneral artistic level of the whole social mind \nis only one side of the problem; the varia- \ntion of individuals above and below this level, \n\n\n\n156 PSYCHOLOGY AND AKT \n\nfrom the anti-aesthetic philistine to the greatest \ngenius, is the other side, and here also the de- \npendence upon the most diverse conditions at- \ntracts interest. The psychologist consults bio- \ngraphy, especially the autobiographies of poets \nand painters, and follows up most carefully the \nsubtle influences which fertilized the imagina- \ntion and gave abnormal direction to the person- \nality. \n\nStudying thus the artistic production in indi- \nviduals at all times and at all places, psychology \nfinally abstracts a general understanding of the \ncreative process and its conditions. There ap- \npears nothing mysterious in it : by manifold \nthreads it seems connected with the mental func- \ntions of simple attention, with inhibition and \nsuggestion ; in other directions with dreams and \nillusions, and also with the abnormal functions \nof hypnotism and insanity. It is a most com- \nplex process, truly, in which the whole personal- \nity is engaged, but it is connected by short steps \nwith so much simpler events in mental life, and \nit can so easily be traced back to the artistic ele- \nments in the child, that the psychologist has no \nreason to despair ; the artistic function of the \nbrain is not beyond the causal understanding. \nThe machinery of modern psychological concep- \ntions, the atomistic sensations and their laws of \nassociation and inhibition, can theoretically ex- \nplain it in its entirety from the schoolboy\'s \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 157 \n\ndrawing of profiles on his blotting-paper up to \nMichael Angelo\'s decoration of the dome of St. \nPeter\'s with immortal religious frescoes. \n\nIll \n\nVery different indeed are the methods by \nwhich we investigate our second group of aesthet- \nical problems, the psychological effect of the \nbeautiful object. Experimental psychology en- \nters here into its rights. When the students of \nmental life, twenty years ago, took up the exact \nmethod of natural science and worked out ex- \nperimental schemes for the most refined analysis \nof psychical processes, it seemed at first a matter \nof course that only the intellectual processes, \nespecially the functions of perception, and per- \nhaps the elementary activities, would offer them- \nselves to such inquiries. But slowly the new \nmethod has reached and conquered one field \nafter another, \xe2\x80\x94 memory and imagination, asso- \nciation and apperception, feeling and emotion, \nundeveloped and abnormal mental states; and \nnow, in different places, experimental work is \ndealing with the most delicate psychical fact, the \naesthetical feeling and its conditions. \n\nFechner gave a strong impulse to such an ex- \nperimental study of aesthetic elements a long \ntime ago. He asked systematically a large num- \nber of persons which one of a set of rectangles, \nfor instance, each of them preferred ; the ten \n\n\n\n158 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nforms varied from a square to a rectangle with a \nlength of five and a breadth of two inches. He \nfound a marked sesthetical preference for those \nforms which are determined by the golden sec- \ntion ; that is, in which the short side stands to \nthe long side as the latter stands to the sum of \nboth. To-day the work transcends in every di- \nrection such elementary beginnings. In the first \nplace, it is not confined to a special art. Music \nand poetry share equally with the visible arts. \nThe sesthetical harmony and discord of tones, \ntheir relation to beats and overtones, to the \nfusion and the discrimination of tones, to timbre \nand duration ; in the same way, the musical \nproperties of rhythm, its relations to the atten- \ntion and time sense, to the physiological pro- \ncesses of breathing and muscle tension, and to \nmany other psychophysical functions, \xe2\x80\x94 all these \nhave become the problems of the experimental \npsychologist. These studies of musical rhythm \nnaturally turn the attention toward the elements \nof poetry ; the experimental study of rhythm in \nthe verse, and its relation to the position of the \nrhyme, to the length of the stanza, to the fluc- \ntuations of apperception, to the physiological \nfunctions, and so forth, is exceedingly promising, \nalthough still in its beginning. \n\nMuch more developed is the attempt to reach \nexperimentally the characteristics of the visible \narts. Material and form, above all color and \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 159 \n\nshape, offer themselves in an unlimited series of \nproblems. The color spectrum has always been \nat home in the laboratory, but the psychologist \nhas studied color as an element of perception or \nas a function of the eye, not as the object of \naesthetical feeling. His studies now take a new \ndirection and ask which of two colors is preferred. \nHow does this preference depend upon saturation, \nbrightness, extension? What combination of \ncolors is agreeable : how does this effect depend \nupon the relative extension of the colored sur- \nface; how upon the colored materials and the \nrelation between their intensity or their white- \nness ? Which shapes and angles and sections are \npreferred : how does this preference depend upon \nassociations, or upon our bodily position, or upon \neye movements ? How does the plastic effect, \nin stereoscopic vision for example, influence the \nintensity of aesthetic feeling; how does move- \nment influence it, or the combination of shape \nwith color ? In a series of rectangles or ellipses \nor bisected lines, is only one of them agreeable, \nor has the curve of our aesthetical pleasure sev- \neral maximal points ? \n\nThe experimental investigation may come \nmuch nearer still to the problem of fine arts. I \ntake as illustration a series of experiments which \nmake up part of a recent thesis from the Har- \nvard laboratory. The problem is the pleasing \nbalance of two sides of an aesthetic object. That \n\n\n\n160 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nis, of course, realized in the simplest way by geo- \nmetrical symmetry as many works of architec- \nture show it; we have this pleasing feeling of \nequilibrium, also, when we see a well-composed \nbuilding of which the two halves are far from \nidentical, and every painting shows this ideal \nsymmetry of composition without the monotony \nof geometrical uniformity; so it is even in the \nmost irregular Japanese arrangement. The ques- \ntion arises under what conditions this demand \nfor balance is fulfilled, if the objects in both \nhalves are different. Translated into the meth- \nods of experimental psychology, the question \nwould be, how far, for instance, a long verti- \ncal line must be from the centre of a framed \nfield, if a line of half its length is at a given \ndistance from the centre on the other side ; how \nfar if a point or a curve of special form or two \nlines are there. The variations are endless. In \nan absolutely dark room is a framed field of \nblack cloth, which is so illuminated that no other \nobject in the room is visible ; by a little device, \nbright fines, points, curves, also letters, pictures, \nobjects, can be made to move over this field \nwithout showing the moving apparatus, while \nthe exact position of each is indicated on a scale. \nOne line may be given on the left side, and the \nexperimenter has to find the most pleasing posi- \ntion of a double line on the other, imitating thus \nthe case when two figures are to be on one side \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 161 \n\nof a painting, while one only is to balance them \non the other side ; where must it stand ? Start- \ning from such simple lines, the investigation \nturns to more complicated questions : What is \nthe influence of the impression of depth ? \xe2\x80\x94 for \ninstance, a flat picture on one side, a picture \nrepresenting depth on the other. What is the \ninfluence of interest ? \xe2\x80\x94 a meaningless paper on \none side, a paper of equal size with interesting \nfigures on the other side. What is the influence \nof apparent movement ? \xe2\x80\x94 a picture of a resting \nobject on one side, an equally large object which \nsuggests movement in a special direction on the \nother. So the problem can easily be carried to a \ncomplication of conditions which does justice to \nthe manifoldness of principles involved in the \ncomposition of paintings, sculptures, decorations, \ninteriors, buildings, and landscapes. If, finally, \nall these experiments are carried out under dif- \nferent subjective conditions, in different states of \nbodily position, of eye movement, of distance, \nof attention, of fatigue, under different degrees \nof illumination, with different colors, with differ- \nent associations, all with different subjects and in \nsteady relation to the real objects of historical \nart, we learn slowly to understand our aesthetic \npleasure in the balance of a composition, and its \nrelation to the functions of our body. \n\nSome one may say : All these experiments are \ntoo simple ; they may be quite interesting, but \n\n\n\n162 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nthey never reach the complication of real art. \nWhat are those simple figures beside a Madonna, \nthose primitive harmonies beside a symphony ? \nYet is it a reproach to the physicist that he \nstudies the nature of the gigantic thunderstorm, \nnot from an equally large electrical discharge, \nbut from the tiny sparks of his little labora- \ntory machine ? And if the physicist is inter- \nested in the waves of the ocean, he studies the \nmovements in a small tank of water in his work- \ning-room, and introduces simple artificial move- \nments. It is just the elementary character of \nexperimental methods which guarantees their \npower for explanation ; and sesthetical effects \ncan be psychologically understood only if we \nstudy their elements in the most schematic way \npossible. The necessary presupposition is, of \ncourse, that the sesthetical attitude itself can be \nmaintained in the laboratory rooms, and there \nis no reason for being skeptical about that. \nWith regard to practical emotions such skepti- \ncism may be correct : we cannot love and hate, \nnor admire and detest in the laboratory, and it \nmay even be said that the joy of the laboratory \nis not agreeable, and the pain is not painful. \nBut the aesthetical emotion remains intact pre- \ncisely on account of the absence of every prac- \ntical relation in it. The beautiful or the ugly \nthing lasts as such in every corner of our work- \nshop. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AXD ART 163 \n\nThe experimental study of the psychological \neffect of art seems thus even more safely housed \nthan the biological and historical study of the \npsychological production of art, and both to- \ngether form already a psychological system of \naesthetics which certainly still has blanks, but \nwhich is surprisingly near completeness. Psy- \nchology will go on in this way till the most deli- \ncate cause and the most subtle effect of each \nartistic work are understood by the action of \ncausal laws, like any other cause and effect in \nnature. \n\nIV \n\nBefore us lies the question which is important \nfor the teacher : how far the results of such \nstudies can become productive, or at least sug- \ngestive, for instruction in artistic drawing. Here \nagain we must separate the two sides, \xe2\x80\x94 the \ncauses and the effects of the beautiful objects. \nThe causes which produce the drawing are the \nactivities of the pupil ; the effects are the im- \npressions on the spectator. The study of the \ncauses will help us to understand how to train \nthe sesthetieal activities of the pupil ; the study \nof the effects will help us to advise how the \ndrawing or painting should be made up in order \nto please others. The study of the causes sug- \ngests to us methods of teaching ; the study of \nthe effects suggests rules and facts which are \n\n\n\n164 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nto be taught. The study of the causes interests \nonly the teacher who handles the pupil ; the \nstudy of the effects offers insight which the \nteacher may share with the pupil. \n\nThink first of the effects. Psychology has \nanalyzed the impressions on our sense of beauty, \nand each fact must express a rule which can \nbe learned. Blue and red are agreeable, blue \nand green are disagreeable : therefore combine \nred and blue, but not green and blue. The \ngolden section of a line is the most agreeable of \nall divisions : therefore try to divide all lines, \nif possible, according to this rule. Such psy- \nchological prescriptions hold, of course, for all \narts : do not make verses with lines of ten feet ; \ndo not compose music in a scale of fifths. Step \nby step we come to the prescription for a tra- \ngedy, for a symphony, for a Renaissance palace; \nhow much more for the details of a simple draw- \ning ! Fill the space thus and thus ; take care of \ngood balance ; if there is a long line on one \nside, make the short line on the other side nearer \nto the centre : these are sesthetical prescriptions \nwhich can be learned and exercised like the laws \nof perspective for architectural drawing. When- \never the pupil follows the rules, his drawing will \navoid disagreeable shocks to the spectator. I \nam free, I trust, from the suspicion that I over- \nestimate the value of experimental psychology \nfor teachers ; I have often attacked its misuses. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 165 \n\nHere the case is quite different. Such prescrip- \ntions do not prescribe the ways of teaching, but \nare material of instruction. There is no other \nschool subject for which psychology supplies \nsuch material. Mathematics and natural sci- \nences, languages and history, are not learned in \nschool with reference to their psychological ef- \nfects. Art, however, has an absolutely excep- \ntional position. My belief, therefore, that meth- \nods of teaching cannot be learned to-day from \nthe psychological laboratory is no contradiction \nof my acknowledgment that artistic prescrip- \ntions, worthy to be taught, can be deduced from \npsychology. I see with great pleasure that the \ndevelopment in this direction goes steadily on, \nand that children learn easily and joyfully the \nways of avoiding ugly lines and arrangements. \n\nMy theoretical objections against teaching on \nthe basis of psychological knowledge interfere \nmuch more with the pedagogical results which \nmay perhaps be indicated by the study of the \npsychological causes of art. If we apply here our \ntheoretical insight at all, the result cannot have \nthe form, Teach your pupils to make the draw- \ning thus and so ; but the form, Teach thus and \nso your pupils to make a drawing. If we un- \nderstand the causes which produce a beautiful \ndrawing, and if by our teaching we can influ- \nence the central system of the child so that the \ncauses for such production are established, then \n\n\n\n166 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nit seems that the goal is reached. But we are \nnot only far from a full understanding ; we are \nendlessly farther from such desired influences. \nTo know the chemical constitution of an egg \ndoes not mean the power to produce an egg \nwhich can be hatched. We cannot make a \ngenius, we cannot make talent ; and by itself the \npsychological analysis only indicates, and that but \nslightly, how to evolve from a bad draughtsman \na good one. We may make the general abstrac- \ntion that constant training is a good thing ; to \nreach such a triviality, however, we need psycho- \nlogy as little as we need scientific physiology to \nfind out that eating is useful for our nourish- \nment. Wherever psychological speculation goes \nfarther, it is finally dependent upon secondary \nfactors which are determined by presuppositions \nof non-psychological character, and thus the \nresults may be quite contradictory : the one re- \ncommends the study of nature, the other only \nimagination ; the one proposes flowers for mod- \nels, the other geometrical figures ; the one lines, \nthe other colors. Psychology listens carefully \nto all, but is responsible for none of these propo- \nsitions. An examination of the papers which \ndrawing-superintendents and drawing-teachers \nusually read at their meetings shows, indeed, \nthat they belong for the most part to a species \nwell known in all our educational gatherings. \nThe first half of each paper is made up of famil- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 167 \n\niar sentences taken from good textbooks of phy- \nsiological psychology, \xe2\x80\x94 the ganglion cells of \nthe optical centres play the chief role in the \ndrawing associations, \xe2\x80\x94 and the second half of \nthe paper contains a list of correct educational \nsuggestions ; only the chief thing, the proof that \nthe suggestions are really consequences of the \ntextbook abstracts, is forgotten. The two parts \nhave often not the slightest connection. The \nsecond half alone would appear commonplace, \nand the first alone would appear out of place ; \ntogether they make a scholarly impression, even \nif they have nothing to do with each other. \n\nPerhaps one other danger in these practical \nmovements of to-day deserves mention. The \nfact that drawings, paintings, pictures, please us, \nencourages the working out of technical prescrip- \ntions from them for instruction in art ; but the \npleasure must be a pure and natural one, as little \nas possible dependent upon fugitive fashions and \ncapricious tastes ; and if our pleasure is a refined \neccentricity, or even perversity, it is certain that \nwe have no right to infect with it the taste of \nthe younger generation. Seldom has this danger \nbeen so near as in our time, with its preraphael- \nitic and Japanese preferences, with its poster style \nand its stylistic restlessness. The healthy atmo- \nsphere for the taste of the child is harmonious \nclassical beauty. The man who has passed his \ntraining in pure beauty may reach a point where \n\n\n\n168 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\na reaction against classicism is a sonnd and ma- \nture sesthetical desire, but to begin with eccentric \nrealism or with mysterious symbolism in an im- \nmature age is a blunder. The educational mis- \ntake becomes worse if that style is allowed in \nthe schoolroom which is over-indulged in our \ntime, and which is most antagonistic to the \nchild\'s mind : I mean the primitivistic style of \nour posters and bindings. The simple forms of \nprimitivistic art are not a real returning to the \nbeginnings of art, which would be quite adapted \nto children. No ; this style means an ironical \nplaying with the primitive forms on the basis of \na most artful art. It is masquerading with the \ncostumes of simplicity, not real desire for simple \nnature ; and the spirit of irony alone makes it \npossible, and so dangerously attractive for our \ntaste. If a school exhibition of drawings in the \nstyle of the Yellow Book appears to our eye \npleasant and almost refreshing, after the tiresome \nelaborations of our own school-time, it is our \nmoral duty to ask, not what we like, but what \nchildren ought to learn to like. Irony toward the \nmost mature products of civilization ought not \nto flourish in a child\'s mind ; and if the ironical \ncurves of the Beardsley style become the trained \nmethods of children, who finally believe that \nthey really see nature in conventionalized poster \nstyle and use those lines thoughtlessly as pat- \nterns, the result is decidedly a perverse one. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 169 \n\nNevertheless, the future may be wiser ; psycho- \nlogy will perhaps help pedagogics to find the \nway to develop the facility of pupils in produ- \ncing fair drawings ; and if we are willing to take \nthe hope for the fact, we may say that psycho- \nlogy gives to the teacher prescriptions for train- \ning the child to draw better and better, and, \nabove all, prescriptions which the child itself \ncan learn, prescriptions for the composition and \narrangement of a drawing which shall please \nothers. Art can thus be fully described psycho- \nlogically and explained with regard both to its \nconditions and to its effects, and both groups of \nfacts can become suggestive for the construction \nof rules for the teaching of drawing. The rela- \ntions of psychology and art are then important \nand suggestive ones ; and yet, is that our final \nword ? Has philosophy nothing else to say ? \n\n\n\nI know quite well that there are plenty of men \nwho would say, Yes, that is the whole story. I \nthink, however, the number is increasing of those \nwho see that while half a truth is true as far \nas its half goes, half a truth is a lie if it pre- \ntends to be the whole. It seems to me, indeed, \nthat this psychological scheme is one-sided, and \nthat our time confronts dangers for its ideal life \nif triumphant psychology crushes under its feet \nevery idealistic opposition. It is with art here \n\n\n\n170 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nexactly as with science and with morality. Psy- \nchology proclaims : We can describe and explain \nevery thought of science and every decision of \nmorality from an atomistic naturalistic point of \nview ; we can understand it as the necessary \nresult of the foregoing psychophysical condi- \ntions. There is, then, no absolute truth in sci- \nence, no absolute virtue in morality ; duties are \ntrained associations, and the value of our actions, \nas of our thinking, lies in their agreeable effects. \nArt easily joins the others ; if there is no truth \nand no virtue which is more than the product \nof circumstances, then there is no beauty which \nhas absolute value; then beauty has no other \nmeaning than that which psychology describes ; \nit is the effect of certain psychological processes, \nand the cause of certain agreeable psychological \nresults ; and if we are careful to prepare those \nconditions and to insure that outcome, then we \nhave done all that the sesthetical luxury of soci- \nety can wish for its entertainment. \n\nI do not deny the right of psychology to \nconsider the world of beautiful creations from \nsuch a point of view, and as a psychologist I do \nmy best to help in such investigations; but I \ncannot forget that this view-point is an artificial \none for living, real art ; that it is artificial both \nfor the subject who creates art and for the \nsubject who enjoys art ; that it is artificial wher- \never art is felt in its full meaning. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 171 \n\nI say that psychology has its full right of \nway within its own limits ; it has limits, however, \nand they are much narrower than the superficial \nimpression may make us believe. Psychology \nhas to describe and to explain mental lif e ; but \ndescription and explanation are possible only for \nobjects. Explanation always presupposes de- \nscription, and the very idea of description pre- \nsupposes the existence of objects. Psychology \nconsiders mental life, therefore, only in so far as \nit can be thought as a series of existing objects, \n\xe2\x80\x94 objects which exist in consciousness as phy- \nsical objects exist in space. \n\nWe have not to ask here why it is important \nfor the purposes of life and thought to consider \nthe mental world as if it were a world of objects. \nWe are sure that in the primary reality our \ninner lif e does not mean to us such a world of \nobjects only. Our perceptions and conceptions \nmay reach us as objects, while our feelings, our \nemotions, our judgments, our volitions, do not \ncome in question with us first as objects which \nwe passively perceive, but as activities which we \nlive out, as activities the reality of which cannot \nbe described and causally explained ; it must be \nfelt and understood and interpreted. In short, \nwe are not merely passive subjects with a world \nof conscious objects; we are willing subjects, \nwhose acts of will have not less reality in spite \nof the fact that they are no objects at all. To \n\n\n\n172 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nconsider the mental world, including feeling and \nthe will, psychologically means an artificial trans- \nformation and substitution which may have its \nvalue for special purposes, but which leads us \naway from reality. The reality of the will and \nfeeling and judgment does not belong to the \ndescribable world, but to a world which has to \nbe appreciated; it has to be linked, therefore, \nnot by the categories of cause and effect, but by \nthose of meaning and value. And in this world \nof will relations grows and blossoms and flowers \nArt. \n\nLet us examine the characteristics of this great \nnetwork of will attitudes, in which the personality \nfeels itself a willing subject, and acknowledges \nall other subjects as volitional also. One distinc- \ntion is of paramount importance : our will may \nbe thought of as an individual attitude, or it \nmay arise with the meaning of an over-individual \ndecision that demands acknowledgment by every \nsubject, and that is willed, therefore, independ- \nently of our merely personal desires. It is an \nact of will which is meant as necessary for every \nsubject, which ought to be acted by everybody : \nwe call it duty. From a purely psychological \nstandpoint, the will thought as object is deter- \nmined in any case, \xe2\x80\x94 the virtuous act as well as \nthe crime, the nonsensical judgment as well as \nthe wise one. From the critical standpoint of \nreality, the special will decision is necessary if it \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 173 \n\nbelongs to the very nature of will, binds every \nwill, not by natural law, but by obligation ; and \nit can be and is unnecessary if it is merely \npersonal arbitrariness. \n\nThis doubleness of duty and arbitrariness in \nour will repeats itself in every division of possible \nwill activities, and there exist four such depart- \nments of relations of will to the world, four \npossibilities of reacting on the world. First, \nthe subject may change the objects of the world \nby his actions ; secondly, may decide for addi- \ntional supplements to the given objects ; thirdly, \nmay transform the objects in his thought so that \nthey form a connection ; and fourthly, may trans- \nform the objects so that they stand each for \nitself. If these four possible subjective acts are \nperformed by the individual personal arbitrary \nwill, they represent individual values. The ac- \ntions toward the world are then such changes of \nthe objects as are useful and practical for our \ncomfort ; the supplementations are then the play \nof our fancy and imagination ; the connections \nare then expressions of our hope or fear; the \nisolations, finally, are means to our personal \nenjoyment. These four functions may be carried \nout also as functions of the deeper, over-indi- \nvidual, necessary will; that is, as functions of \nduty. Those actions which alter and change \nthe objective world are then moral actions ; the \nideas which supplement the world make up re- \n\n\n\n174 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nligion ; those transformations which bring out a \nconnection between the objects of the world \ncompose scientific truth ; and finally, those trans- \nformations which isolate the objects, so that \nthey stand each for itself, form the domain of \nbeauty. \n\nVI \n\nTruth and beauty thus represent duties, logical \nand aesthetical duties, just as morality represents \nethical duties. We choose and form the physical \naxiom in science so, and not otherwise, because \nour will is bound by duty to do so ; that is, only \nthat particular decision of our affirming will can \ndemand acknowledgment by every subject ; and \nthus art chooses the forms and lines, the colors \nand curves, of the Sistine Madonna just so, and \nnot otherwise, because only this decision of the \ncreating will is as it ought to be, as duty pre- \nscribes, as it can demand that every willing \nsubject ought to acknowledge it. Everything \nin this world is beautiful, and is a joy forever if \nit is so transformed that it does not suggest \nanything else than itself, that it contains all \nelements for the fulfillment of the whole in \nitself. We do not ask for the arms and legs of \nthe person whose marble bust the artist gives \nus, and we do not ask for his complexion, either. \nWe do not ask how the field and forest look \noutside of the frame of the landscape painting, \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND ART 175 \n\nand we do not ask what the persons in the \ndrama have done before and will do after the \nstory. Our works of art are not in our space \nand not in our time ; their frame is their own \nworld, which they never transcend. Keal art \nmakes us forget that the painting is only a piece \nof canvas, and that Hamlet is only an actor, and \nnot the prince. We forget the connections, we \nabstract from all relations, we think of the object \nin itself; and wherever we do so, we proceed \naesthetically. And if we enjoy the great works \nof art, the essential function is not the individ- \nual enjoyment of our senses and feelings, like \nthe enjoyment in eating and drinking ; no, it is \nthe volitional acknowledgment of the will of the \nartist. We will with him ; and if we appreciate \nhis work as beautiful, we acknowledge that it is \nas we feel that it ought to be ; that our will of \nthinking that particle of the world is lifted to its \nduties ; that we have transcended the sphere of \nmerely personal arbitrariness and its desires and \nagreeable fulfillments ; that we have reached \nthe sphere of over-individual values. Whoever \nunderstands art as will function believes in art \nand appreciates it as a world of duties ; psycho- \nlogy has not to try to understand it as such, but \nto transform it into something else, into a set of \nobjects which have causes and effects. Psycho- \nlogy must destroy the deepest meaning of art, \njust as it disregards the deepest meaning of \n\n\n\n176 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\ntruth and morality, if it tries to present its view \nas the last word about our inner activities. \n\nAnd if art is thus a realization of duties which \nhave their real meaning in this acknowledgment \nof the will, in what light should we see all these \ntechnical rules and prescriptions for facilitating \nin the child the production of artistic works, and \nfor preventing him from making disagreeable \ndrawings? Those rules and prescriptions remain \nquite good and valid. They do for real beauty \nand art just what the police and the prisons on \nthe one side, the training of habits and manners \non the other side, do for real morality. Nobody \nwill underestimate the value of the fact that our \nchildren learn through training a thousand habits \nwhich keep them, as a matter of course, out of \nconflict with the laws, and that police and jails \nremind them again and again, Do not leave the \nsafe tracks. Whoever lives a noble life, however, \nmeans by morality and duty something else and \nsomething higher. Habits and jails do not in- \nsure that in an important conflict of life, where \npersonal interests stand against duty, the bad \naction may not triumph. Only a conscience \nwhich is penetrated by morality stands safe in \nall storms, and such a conscience is not brought \nout by technical prescriptions, nor by punishments \nand jails ; no, only by the obligatory power of \nwill upon will, by the inspiring life of subjects \nwe acknowledge, by the example of the heroes \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND AKT 177 \n\nof duty, that speaks directly from will to will, \nand for which we cannot substitute psychologi- \ncal training and police officers. And thus the \nduty of art. Do not believe that the easier pro- \nduction of a not disagreeable drawing means a \npositive gain for real art and beauty: it raises \nthe standard, it uplifts the level of aesthetic pro- \nduction, just as the standard of moral behavior \nis lifted by the existence of a watchful police, \nand it is extremely important. Do not forget, \nhowever, that sesthetical life also needs not only \nthe policeman\'s function, but above all the min- \nister\'s and helper\'s function ; in other words, \nnot technical rules, but duties ; not easy produc- \ntion, but convictions ; not knowledge of psy- \nchological effects, but belief in absolute values. \n\nThis attitude becomes the more important as \nthis whole view shows that the world of art is in \nno way subordinate to or less true than the world \nof science. The reality is neither that which \nthe scientist describes nor that which the artist \nsketches ; both are transformations for a special \npurpose. The scientist, we have seen, trans- \nforms for the purpose of connection, and in that \nservice he constructs atoms which exist nowhere \nbut in his thought. The artist transforms in \nthe interest of isolation, and in that service he \nconstructs his drawings. The mechanical pro- \ncess of drawing as such is, of course, not art in \nitself ; it is the indifferent means of expression \n\n\n\n178 PSYCHOLOGY AND ART \n\nwhich can communicate science as well as art. \nJust as words can serve Shakespeare as well as \nDarwin, so lines and curves can serve the mathe- \nmatician and the physicist as well as the artist ; \nthe purpose alone separates the poet from the \nbiologist, the scientist from the artist. And if \nart thus means a world which is exactly as true \nand valuable as the world of science, let us not \nforget that the school lesson in drawing means \ncontact with this world of art, \xe2\x80\x94 that is, with \nthe special spirit of aesthetic duties ; and that \nevery drawing-teacher ought to be, not an \nsesthetical policeman only, but an inspiring be- \nliever in these sacred aesthetic duties. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\n\n\nA study of the relations between psychology \nand the science of history emphasizes necessarily \nthe limits of psychology. I know quite well \nthat the choice of such a subject easily suggests \nthe suspicion of heresy; whoever asks eagerly \nfor the limits of a science appears to the first \nglance in a hostile attitude towards it. To em- \nphasize its limiting boundaries means to restrain \nits rights and to lessen its freedom. It seems, \nindeed, almost an anti-psychological undertaking \nfor any one to say to this young science, which \nis so full of the spirit of enterprise : Keep within \nthe bounds of your domain. But you remember \nthe word of Kant : " It is not augmentation, but \ndeformation of the sciences, if we efface their \nlimits." Kant is speaking of logic, but at \npresent his word seems to be for no field truer \nthan for psychology. Psychology, it seems to \nme, encouraged by its quick triumphs over its \nold-fashioned metaphysical rival, to-day moves \ninstinctively towards an expansionistic policy. \nA psychological imperialism which dictates laws \n\n\n\n180 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nto the whole world of inner experience seems \noften to be the goal. But sciences are not like \nthe domiciles of nations ; their limits cannot be \nchanged by mere agreement. The presupposi- \ntions with which a science starts decide for all \ntime as to the possibilities of its outer extension. \nThe botanists may resolve to-morrow that from \nnow on they will study the movements of the \nstars also ; it is their private matter to choose \nwhether they want to be botanists only or also \nastronomers, but they can never decide that \nastronomy shall become in future a part of \nbotany, supposing that they do not claim the \nMilky Way as a big vegetable. Every exten- \nsion beyond the sharp limits which are deter- \nmined by the logical presuppositions can thus be \nonly the triumph of confusion, and the ultimate \narbitration, which is the function of episte- \nmology, must always decide against it. It is \nthus love and devotion for psychology which \ndemands that its energies be not wasted by the \nhopeless task of transgressions into other fields. \n\nPhilosophers and psychologists are mostly will- \ning to acknowledge such a discriminative atti- \ntude when the relations between psychology and \nthe normative sciences, ethics, logic, aesthetics, are \nin question. They know that a mere descrip- \ntion and causal explanation of ethical, sesthetical, \nand logical mental facts in spite of its legitimate \nrelative value cannot in itself be substituted for \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 181 \n\nthe doctrines of obligation. The line of demar- \ncation thus separates with entire logical sharp- \nness the duties from the facts, the duties which \nhave to be appreciated in their validity as ideals \nfor the will, and the facts which have to be \nanalyzed and explained in their physical or psy- \nchical existence as objects of perception. But \ncan we overlook the symptoms of growing oppo- \nsition against the undiscriminative treatment of \nthe world of facts in the empirical sciences? \nThe creed of those who believe in such uni- \nformity is simple enough : the universe is made \nup of physical and psychical processes, and it \nis the purpose of science to discover their ele- \nments and their laws ; we may differentiate and \nclassify the sciences with regard to the different \nobjects which we analyze or with regard to the \ndifferent processes the laws of which we study, \nbut there cannot exist in the world anything \nwhich does not find a suitable place in a system \nin which all special sciences are departments of \nphysics or of psychology. In a period of natu- \nralistic thinking like that of the Darwinistic age \nthe intellectual conscience may be fascinated and \nhypnotized by the triumphs of such atomizing \nand law-seeking thought even to the point of \nforgetting all doubts and contradictions. But \nthe pendulum of civilization begins to swing in \nthe other direction. The mere decomposition of \nthe world has not satisfied the deep demand for \n\n\n\n182 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nan inner understanding of the world ; the dis- \ncovery of the causal laws has not stilled the thirst \nfor emotional values, and there has come a chill \nwith the feeling that all the technical improve- \nment which surrounds us is a luxury which does \nnot make life either better or worthier of the \nstruggle. The idealistic impulses have come \nto a new life everywhere in art and science \nand politics and society and religion; histori- \ncal and philosophical thinking has revived and \nrushes to the foreground. We begin to remem- \nber again what naturalism too easily forgets, \nthat the interests of life have not to do with \ncauses and effects, but with purposes and means, \nthat in life we feel ourselves as units and as free \nagents, bound by culture and not only by na- \nture, factors in a system of history and not only \natoms in a mechanism. \n\nSuch a general reaction demands its expres- \nsion in the world of science too, and there can- \nnot be any surprise if psychology has to stand \nthe first attack. The naturalistic study of the \nphysical facts may not be less antagonistic to \nsuch idealistic demands, and yet it is the de- \ncomposition of the psychical facts which op- \npresses us most immediately in our instinctive \nstrife for the rights of the personality. The \nantithesis becomes thus most pointed in the con- \nflict between psychology and history, and it \nseems to me that only two possibilities are open. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 183 \n\nOne possibility is that these sciences stay yoked \ntogether, the one forcing the other to follow its \npath. Either of two events may then happen. \nEither psychology will remain as hitherto the \nstronger one; in which case history must follow \nthe paths of psychological analysis and be satis- \nfied with sociological laws ; every effort of history \nwhich goes beyond that is then unscientific, and \nthe works of our great historians must seek shel- \nter under the roof of art. Or \xe2\x80\x94 and this second \ncase has all odds in favor of it \xe2\x80\x94 the belief \nin the unity of personality will become stronger \nthan the confidence in science, which merely de- \ncomposes, and psychology will be subordinated \nto the historical view of man. That is possible \nunder a hundred forms, but the final result must \nalways be the same, the ruin of real psychology. \nI think this undermining of psychology with \nthe tools of history is to-day in eager progress. \nHere belong, of course, all the most modern \nattempts to supplement the regular analyzing \npsychology by a pseudo-psychology which by \nprinciple considers the mental life as a unity \nand asks not about its constitution but about its \nmeaning. Whether authors, half unconsciously, \nalternate with these two views from chapter to \nchapter, or whether they demand systematically \nthat both kinds of psychology be acknowledged, \nmakes no essential difference. Both forms are \ncharacteristic for a period of transition; both \n\n\n\n184 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nmust lead in the end to giving up fully the \nanalyzing view, to shifting the results of such \nanalysis over to physiology, and thus to confin- \ning psychology entirely to the anti-causal cate- \ngories, that is, to denying psychology altogether. \nSuch turnings of the scientific spirit are slow, \nbut if history and psychology remain chained up \ntogether, the symptoms of the future are too \nclear : there is no hope for psychology. \n\nBut there is a second alternative open. The \nchain which forces psychology and history to \nmove together may be broken ; the one may be \nacknowledged as fully independent of the other. \nWhat appears as a conflict of contradictory \nstatements may then become the mutual sup- \nplementation of two partial truths, just as a \nbody may appear very different from the geo- \nmetrical, from the physical, and from the chemi- \ncal points of view, while each one gives us truth. \nTo those who have followed the recent develop- \nment of epistemological discussion, especially in \nGermany, it is a well-known fact that this logi- \ncal separation of history and psychology is, in- \ndeed, the demand of some of the best students \nof logic. They claim that the scientific inter- \nest in the facts can and must take two abso- \nlutely different directions : we are interested \neither in the single fact as such or in the laws \nunder which it stands, and thus we have two \ngroups of sciences which have nothing to do \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 185 \n\nwith each other, sciences which describe the \nisolated facts and sciences which seek their laws. \nA leading logician baptizes the first, therefore, \nidiographic sciences, the latter nomothetic sci- \nences ; idiographic is history ; nomothetic are \nphysics and psychology. Psychology gives gen- \neral facts which are always true, but concerning \nwhich it has not to ask whether they are realized \nanywhere or at any time ; history refers to the \nspecial single fact only, without any relation to \ngeneral facts. \n\nII \n\nI consider this logical separation as a liberat- \ning deed, not only because it is the only way \nfor psychology to escape its ruin through the \ninterference of an historically thinking idealism, \nand also not only because the value and unity \nand freedom of the personality which history \npreaches can now be followed up without inter- \nference on the part of psychology, but because, \nindependent of any practical results, it seems to \nme the necessary outcome of epistemological \nreflection. And yet the arguments which have \nled to this separation appear to me mistaken and \nuntenable in every respect. I agree heartily \nwith the decision, but I absolutely reject the \nmotives. No antithesis is possible between sci- \nences which study the isolated facts and sciences \nwhich generalize ; such a methodological differ- \n\n\n\n186 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nence does not exist. We shall see that it must \nbe replaced by a difference of another kind, but \nthe end must be the same : psychology and his- \ntory must never come together again. To criti- \ncise the one way of attaining this end and to \nilluminate the other new way which I propose is \nthe purpose of the following considerations. \n\nWe must proceed at first critically ; what is \nthe truth of the view which contrasts idiographic \nand nomothetic sciences? At the first glance \nthe importance of the discrimination seems so \nevident that it appears hard to understand how \nit could ever have been overlooked. It seems a \nmatter of course that the empirical sciences can \nask either about the general facts of reality, the \nlaws which are true always and everywhere and \nwhich do not say what happened on a special \nplace and in a special time, or on the other \nhand about the single facts which are character- \nized just by their uniqueness. We may be in- \nterested in the physical and chemical laws of \nfire, but our interest in the one great fire which \ndestroyed Moscow has an absolutely different \nlogical source, and if we extend our historical \ninterest from the physical to the psychical side, \nand investigate the stream of associations which \npassed through the mind of Napoleon during the \ndays of that fire, we have again an absolutely \ndifferent kind of interest from that of the psy- \nchologist who studies the laws of association \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 187 \n\nand inhibition, which are true for every mortal. \nHow small from a logical standpoint appears the \ndifference between the search for physical laws \nand the search for psychological laws compared \nwith the unbridgable chasm between the search \nfor laws and the inquiry for special facts which \nhappened once ! And this difference grows if \nwe consider that all our feelings and emotions \nrefer to the special single object, not to any \nlaws, that, above all, the personalities with which \nwe come in contact come in question for us just \nin their singleness, and that we ourselves feel \nthe value of our life and the meaning of our \nresponsibility in the uniqueness of the acts by \nwhich we mark our individual role in the his- \ntory of mankind. These arguments of recent \nepistemological discussions will easily find the \near of the multitude. Common sense, which \ndemands for itself the prerogative of being in- \nconsistent, will probably hesitate only at the \nunavoidable postulate of this standpoint, that \nalso the development of our solar system, of our \nearth, of our flora and fauna, belongs then to \nhistory and not to natural science, as they de- \nscribe a process which happened once, and not \na law. \n\nI may begin my criticism at the periphery of \nthe subject, moving slowly to the centre. I \nclaim first that all natural sciences, of which \npsychology is one, do not seek laws only, but set \n\n\n\n188 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nforth also judgments about the existence of ob- \njects. Of course, we can make the arbitrary \ndecision that we acknowledge the natural sci- \nences as such only so far as they give eternal \nlaws without reference to their realization in a \nspecial place or in a special time, while any \njudgment about the existence here or there, \nnow or then, has to be housed under the roof \nof history. The sciences as they practically are \nwould then be mixtures of historical and natu- \nralistic statements, the historical factor diminish- \ning the more, the more abstract the science, \nreaching its minimum in pure mechanics. Such \ndecision has only recently found able defense, \nbut do we not destroy, by its acceptance, the \nwhole meaning of natural science? Are the \nlaws for themselves alone still of any scientific \ninterest at all ? Why do we care at all for such \ngeneral laws, as the law of causality, the most \ngeneral of them, which embraces all the others, \nis included already in the presuppositions of sci- \nence, and thus anticipated beforehand ? When \nformal logic or mathematics deals with A and B \nand C, they state valid relations without asking \nwhether A, B or C is given anywhere or at any \ntime, even without excluding the possibility that \ntheir real existence may be impossible. The \nscientific judgments of physics and psychology, \non the other hand, have lost all their meaning \nif we deprive them of the presupposition that \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 189 \n\nobjects which prove the validity of such laws \nhave real existence in the world of experience. \n\nWe can construct well-founded physiological \nlaws also for the organism of the centaur and \npsychological laws for the minds of nixes and \nwater fairies, but neither attempt belongs with- \nin the system of science. The claim of exist- \nentiality is not explicitly expressed in the for- \nmulation of scientific knowledge, not because it \nis unessential, but because it is a matter of \ncourse. The larger the circle for which the \nlaw is valid, the more we find these included \njudgments of reality deprived of their reference \nto special local and temporal data, but even in \nthe most general propositions of mechanics such \njudgments are tacitly included. The question \nis not whether the objects with which the laws \nof mechanics deal have real existence from a \nphilosophical point of view ; certainly they have \nnot. The important point is that mechanics \nby its laws tries at the same time to make us \nbelieve that even the atoms have existence. On \nthe other hand, the existential judgment must be- \ncome the more detailed the more special the law \nis, that is, the more complicated the conditions \nof its realization. If the psychologist states the \nlaws of the feelings, he claims that it is not true \nthat only men without feelings exist ; he claims \nthat men with feelings have reality too. If he \ngives us the more special laws of ethical feelings, \n\n\n\n190 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nhe claims that experience knows men with ethi- \ncal emotion. If he goes on with his specializa- \ntion of the psychical laws, claiming that under \nspecial conditions the ethical emotion of obedi- \nence to the state comes to inhibit the desire for \nlife, he tells us that this really happened. His \npsychological law becomes finally only still more \ndetailed if he lays it down that under such and \nsuch conditions obedience to the state discharges \nitself in the drinking of a hemlock potion in \nspite of antagonistic suggestions of escape from \nphilosophical friends. It is a psychological law, \nand yet it claims at the same time that all this \nonce at least really happened, while the com- \nplication of conditions practically excludes the \npossibility of its happening more than once in \nthe world of our experience. \n\nOf course, it remains a law of general char- \nacter with regard to absolute space and absolute \ntime ; when all conditions including our solar \nsystem and all the events on the earth are given \nonce more in infinity, then Socrates necessarily \nmust drink once more the poisoned cup. But \nin the limited space and time of our experience \nthe conditions for the realization of such a psy- \nchological law can have been given only once, \nand that they really once were given is decidedly \nclaimed and thus silently reported by the law. \nIf our opponents maintain that the naturalistic \nsciences need as supplement an historical descrip- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 191 \n\ntion of one special stage of the world to give a \nfoothold for the working of the eternal laws, we \ncan thus reject this external help for the expla- \nnation of the world, as the laws themselves fur- \nnish all that we need. The system of the laws is \nat the same time a full and graduated system of \nexistential propositions with regard to the limited \nspace and time of our experience. If ever and \nanywhere in the empirical universe a molecule \nhad moved otherwise or another thought had \npassed through a consciousness, then the system \nof laws, thought in ideal perfection, would have \ndemanded a change. Our physics and psycho- \nlogy presuppose and assert the real existence of \nexactly our world. They do not seek the laws \nwith the intention of neglecting and ignoring \nthe special facts. \n\nIll \n\nThe separation of the single facts from the \ngeneral facts is thus untenable, because the ex- \nplanatory law includes the description ; but we \ncan also emphasize the other side of this mutual \nrelation : every description includes explanation, \nevery assertion of a special fact demands refer- \nence to the general facts. A description has a \nlogical value only if it points towards a law. \nWe describe a process by the help of conceptions \nwhich are worked up from the general facts, \ncommon to a group of objects, and these general \n\n\n\n192 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nconceptions are the more valuable for the pur- \nposes of description the more their content is a \ncondensed representation of real objective con- \nnections. Descriptions in popular language \nmake use of conceptions which are deduced from \nsuperficial similarity, but every new insight into \nphysical and psychological laws gives to these \ngeneral conceptions a more and more valuable \nshape. The history of science is the steady \ndevelopment of the means of description ; there \nis no description which by its use of conceptions \ndoes not aim at working out the laws. Thus, \nfar from the trivial belief that the law is merely \na description of facts, we ought not to forget \nthat the description of facts involves the laws \nand is only another form of their expression. \nTo describe a physical thing as a group of atoms \nor an idea as a group of sensations demands the \nwhole knowledge of the psychological and me- \nchanical laws and condenses in its conceptions \nthe progress of science. To separate the descrip- \ntive report from the explaining apperception is \nthus again impossible. \n\nIt might appear that this does not hold for all \nkinds of description ; we communicate with one \nanother in practical life without relying on gen- \neral conceptions. But our communication then \nis no description. Any mode of personal ex- \npression, gestures or tears, may tell us what is \ngoing on in the mind of another without refer- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 193 \n\nence to psychological laws. But the fact is that \nthey give no description either; they give a \nsuggestion. The words of practical life, the \nwords of the poet, and, as we may add at once, \nthe words of the historian, work like such move- \nments of expression ; they make every mental \nvibration resound in us, because they force us \nunintentionally or with conscious art to follow \nthe suggestion and to imitate the mental experi- \nence. The rhythm and the shade of the words \nmay then be substituted for logical exactitude, \nand interjections may have deeper influence than \ncomplete judgments, but all that is decidedly no \ndescription, as a description demands a commu- \nnication of the elements. Such a suggestion \nallows us an understanding of the meaning, but \ngives us no knowledge of the constitution. \nWhere a single object really has to be described, \nthere conceptions and laws are inevitable, and \nthe historian cannot make an exception. \n\nBut just this fact, that description and expla- \nnation cannot be separated and that the concep- \ntion includes the law, has opened in recent \nphilosophical discussions a new way of thought \nwhich also seems to lead to those claims which \nwe rejected. Granted, it is said, that every \ndescription presupposes generalizing abstractions, \nbut such abstraction must then lead us away \nfrom the endless manifoldness of the reality. \nEvery scientific description deals with physical \n\n\n\n194 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nor psychological abstractions; does that not \nmean that we need still another kind of treat- \nment which does justice to the existing richness \nand fullness of the real single fact ? If we give \nthis mission to history, we acknowledge that its \ncommunications would not be ordinary descrip- \ntions, but in any case we should again have the \nseparated camps with the antithesis: Manifold- \nness and abstraction, single fact and general \nfact. But the presupposition is wrong; the \nmanifoldness of the reality is not endless and \nthe abstracting conceptions are not at all unfit \nto do justice to the richness of the single fact. \nThe single conception abstracts, but the connec- \ntion of conceptions in the sentence reconstructs \nagain. On the other hand, whatever is the \npossible object of perception and discrimination \nmust be the possible object of descriptive deter- \nmination. Whether the task of a complete con- \nceptional description is difficult or not is no \nquestion of principle ; impossible it is not. The \nability to perceive differences is even inferior \ncompared with the power to separate the differ- \nences conceptionally, and the abstracting de- \nscription of science must, therefore, frequently \nincrease and not decrease the manifoldness of \nthe object. We know about the objects more \nthan we perceive ; above all, the description can \nnever leave behind it a perceivable remainder \nwhich from its too great manifoldness excludes \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 195 \n\ndescription. The full variety of the single facts \nthus belongs just as much as the most general \nlaw to the physical and psychological sciences ; \nthe antithesis psychology and history as coincid- \ning with the antithesis abstraction and mani- \nfoldness of reality is then impossible. That \nhistory stands, indeed, nearer to reality than any \npsychology we shall later fully acknowledge, \nbut, as we shall see, for very different reasons ; \nhistory abstracts, we shall see, not less than \npsychology, and psychology is interested in the \nvariety of the facts just as much as is history. \n\nv IV \n\nThis brings us to our central arguments: \nEvery science considers the single facts in their \nrelations to other facts, works towards connec- \ntion, towards generalities. Science means con- \nnection and nothing else, and history also aims \nat general facts, or it cannot hope for a place in \nthe system of science. Does that mean that it is \nvalueless to consider the single fact as it stands \nfor itself, isolated and separated from everything \nelse? Certainly not; the isolation is not less \nvaluable than the connection, but it never forms \na science ; it is the task of art. The single fact \nbelongs to art and not to history ; history has to \ndo with the general facts. That is the thesis \nwhich I must interpret and defend. One point, \nof course, is clear before the discussion. If we \n\n\n\n196 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nmaintain that history has also to work up its \nmaterial with respect to the general facts and \nnot with regard to the single facts, then it is \nevident that there is in the deepest principle of \nthe inquiry no methodological difference between \nphysics and psychology on the one side and \nhistory on the other. But we insisted that an \nimportant difference does exist. The difference \nmust then be not in the kind of treatment, but \nin the material itself. To be sure, there cannot \nbe a physical or psychical object in the universe \nwhich would not be possible material for psy- \nchology or physics; if history deals with a \nmaterial which is different from the possible \nobjects of those empirical sciences, then it must \ndeal with facts which differ from the physical \nand psychical objects in their kind of existence; \nin short, the difference between psychology and \nhistory is not a methodological but an ontological \none. \n\nWe must then ask what kind of existence \nbelongs to the material with which physics and \npsychology deal, and how it is related to reality ; \nabove all, how far reality offers still another \nkind of facts which could be the substance of \nother sciences. Keality means to us here the \nimmediate experience which we live through. \nThis immediate truth of life may be transformed \nand remoulded in theories and sciences, and \nthese remodelings of reality may be highly valu- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 197 \n\nable for special purposes of life ; we may even \nreach finally a point of reconstruction from \nwhich the subjective experience appears as an \nillusion and the supplementation stands as the \nonly truth. Yet the importance of such con- \nstructions must not make us forget that we have \nthen left reality behind us. Our doubting and \nremoulding itself belongs to the reality for \nwhich its products can never be substituted. \nAnd this primary reality can, of course, never \nbe reached when we start from the finished \ntheories of the physical or psychological sciences. \nWhether we pretend that the world is a content \nof our consciousness, a system of psychological \nideas, or whether we start from the mechanical \nuniverse and consider experience as effect of the \nouter world on the consciousness, or whether we \nconfuse the two and call the world a product of \nthe brain, it is all equally misleading if we seek \nthe reality, as each view presupposes equally the \npsychological or physical constructions. It is \nthen, of course, also impossible for us to reach \nthe less remoulded primary experience by going \nbackward through the genetic development of \nthe individual or of the race to an earlier simpler \nstage of experience. Just this genetic tracing \nbackward fully presupposes the categories of the \npsychological view ; we must have already con- \nsidered our own inner life as a complex combi- \nnation of elements before it has a meaning to \n\n\n\n198 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\ncall the mental life of the child or of the animal \nless complex ; the starting point of the genetic \ndevelopment is thus itself an artificial construc- \ntion which lies further away from the primary \nexperience. \n\nIf we thus escape all theories and stand firm \nagainst the suggestions which psychology and \nphysics plentifully bring to us, then we find in \nthe reality nothing of ideas or of mechanical \nsubstances, neither consciousness nor a connected \nuniverse. The reality we experience does not \nknow the antithesis of psychical and physical \nobjects, but in the primary stage merely the \nantithesis subject and object. We feel our \npersonal reality in our subjective attitudes, in \nour will acts which we do not perceive but which \nwe live through, and with the same immediacy \nwe acknowledge other personalities as subjects \nof will. They too are not objects which we \nmerely perceive, but we acknowledge them, by \nour feeling, as subjects with whom we agree or \ndisagree and whose reality is thus not less cer- \ntain than our own. Our acts as subjects are \ndirected towards objects which in reality exist \nonly as such objects of will, that is, as values. \nThey are our ends and means, our tools and pur- \nposes, and nothing is to us real that is not called \nto be selected or rejected, to be favored or dis- \nmissed. Subjective acts of will and objects of \nwill form the reality, the whole reality, nothing \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 199 \n\nlies outside, and nothing is valid beyond this \n"world of will relations ; and even if we form \njudgments about objects which we think as \nindependent of the will, this judgment and this \nthought itself is an act of will working towards \na purpose. \n\nAs soon as we begin to bring order into the \nmanifoldness of this real world, the subjective \nacts as well as the objects divide themselves into \ntwo groups, \xe2\x80\x94 those of individual character and \nthose which are common to all, over-individual. \nThis division is not a result of counting whether \nseveral subjects or by chance only one subject \nhave made the decision or appreciated the object: \nit is a question of intention merely. My act is \nover-individual if it is willed with the meaning \nthat it belongs to every subject which I acknow- \nledge, and my object is over-individual in so far \nas I consider it as a possible object of attitude \nfor every subject. My over-individual will-act is \nthat factor of reality which we call duty ; every \nduty lies in us as subjects, as our own deepest \nwill, and yet as more than our individual deci- \nsion. The over-individual objects are those \nwhich we call physical; the individual objects \nare the psychical ones ; we must only not for- \nget that these physical and psychical objects \nare in reality not in question as independent ob- \njects of perception, but are always related to the \nwill ; they are not contents of consciousness and \n\n\n\n200 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nmechanical bodies in a continuous space, but \nsuggestions which have a meaning, things which \nhave a use. We find thus four factors of real- \nity, beyond whose validity a constructive meta- \nphysics alone can go. Metaphysics may ask \nwhether the individual and over-individual acts \ndo not blend in an absolute subject and whether \nthe objects are not posited by such a subject \nof higher order ; epistemology must be satisfied \nwith the more modest task of settling how we \ndeal with this reality in our scientific or aesthetic \nknowledge. Reality itself is, of course, neither \nart nor science, but life. Art and science must \nbe thus transformations of the material which \nlife offers to us, while these transformations \nthemselves are acts of the subjects and thus \nbelonging to those will-formations which claim \nfor themselves an over-individual character, cre- \nating the values of beauty and truth. \n\nV \n\nThe acts which lead from life to art and \nscience are thus for epistemology free acts of \nthat subjectivity which we find in ourselves by \nimmediate feeling, and which we acknowledge \nin others by an understanding of their proposi- \ntions and suggestions ; they are not functions of \nthe psychophysical organism, not psychophysical \nprocesses, as we must have reached already the \nartificial reconstruction of science before the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 201 \n\nsubject is replaced by that object among other \nobjects, the psychophysical personality. Scien- \ntific and sesthetic acts are not the only functions \nof the real subject ; the ethical and others stand \ncoordinated, but we are concerned here only \nwith the two functions which do not aim to \nchange and to improve the world, but to rethink \nit in beautiful or truthful creations. It seems \nto me now that the two attitudes are in every \nrespect antagonistic ; to express their direction \nin a short formula, I should say science connects \nthe factors of reality; art, on the other hand, \nisolates them. The material of science and of \nart is then the same, though treated by a differ- \nent method. Both can deal with all the four \nfactors of reality, with individual acts and over- \nindividual acts, with individual objects and over- \nindividual objects. Life does not isolate fully, \nand gives no complete connection ; whatever we \nturn to with our will has features which lead us \nfurther and further to ever new interests ; life \ndoes not let us sink into the one alone \xe2\x80\x94 we \nrush beyond it to new realities. And life does \nnot give connections beyond the immediate \nneeds of practical purposes in the narrow circle \nof chance experience. Wherever is full isolation \nof single facts there is beauty, wherever truth \nthere must be full connection. \n\nThe assertion that every isolated fact in its \nsingleness means beauty has for us here only \n\n\n\n202 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nthe character of a critical argument and is not \nfor itself an object of our discussion. It has for \nus merely the negative purpose of proving that \nthe singleness cannot be characteristic of his- \ntory. We cannot here defend this assertion by \ndetailed discussion; we have only to elucidate \nits meaning. Certainly the real life, too, brings \nus pulses of experience in which our will is cap- \ntivated by the given experience, satisfied with \nthe object in itself or in the acknowledgment of \nother subjective acts ; then we have the beauty \nof nature, the beauty of forms and of land- \nscapes, of love and of friendship. Of course, \nit is only an exception when life offers to us in \nthe untransformed reality such complete beauty ; \nit remains the duty of art to change the world \ntill everything is eliminated that leads the sub- \nject beyond the single experience, and the will \ncan rest in the single fact. The world of ob- \njects is thus transformed in painting and sculp- \nture, the world of subjective acts remoulded in \npoetry. The sentiment or the conflict which \nthe poet suggests to us, the bust or the land- \nscape which the artist brings before our eye, is \nsevered from the practical world ; as long as \nanything connects it with the background of the \ndaily world it may be useful or inspiring or in- \nstructive, but it is not beautiful. The poet pro- \njects his work into an ideal past ; the painter \ncuts an ideal space out of the reality, and the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 203 \n\nsculptor fills an ideal space, not the space of our \nsurrounding, to take care thus that the acts and \nobjects may not link into our real world, may \nnever become causes for outer effects, motives \nfor actions, or centres for associations which lie \nbeyond the frame. \n\nWe ought not to become skeptical in regard \nto this point on account of the overhasty gen- \neralizations in which empirical psychology mostly \ncharacterizes the sesthetic act as rich in asso- \nciations. The epistemological problem we are \ndiscussing cannot be settled by psychology, yet \nas soon as the facts are expressed in the terms \nof psychological language they cannot possibly \nassert the opposite of the epistemological truth. \nBut there is no reason for such a conflict, as \npsychology is undoubtedly in the wrong. The \npsychological claim is based on the general theory \nthat all pleasant mental states represent an in- \ncrease of activity, and with it an increase of \nassociations, while all unpleasant states are \nmarked by a decrease of activity and lack of \nassociations. I think that is wrong; there are \ndifferent kinds of increase and different kinds \nof decrease in both ideas and actions. The an- \ntithesis pleasure and displeasure does not at all \ncoincide with increase and decrease if we do not \narbitrarily select such emotions as joy on the \none and grief on the other side. Increase of \nactivity characterizes pleasant and unpleasant \n\n\n\n204 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nstates, only in the pleasant states it produces \naction of the extensors, in the unpleasant states \naction of the flexors. In the same way decrease \nof activity can have a double type : it can have \nits ground in the absence of stimulations, and \nthis is, indeed, characteristic of some unpleasant \nstates ; but the lack of outer action can have its \nground also in the fact that every motor impulse \ngoes to the antagonistic muscles equally. This \nincrease of tonicity without possible action is \ncharacteristic for one pleasant state above all, \nthe aesthetic one. The increase and decrease of \nassociations is here, as always, parallel with the \nmotor impulses. Here also increase of associa- \ntions is essential for some pleasant states, but \nfor some unpleasant ones too, only, like muscle \nactivity, it is in antagonistic directions, in the \none case turning to the future, in the other case \nfalling back to the past. And the same double- \nness is to be noted in the decrease of associa- \ntions ; in some unpleasant states the decrease \ncomes from a mere lack of ideational impulses, \nin some pleasant states from the fascination \nwhich leads every ideational impulse again to \nthe object itself, so that no thought can lead \nbeyond it. This is again true, above all, for the \naesthetic state. The beautiful object includes all \nthat it suggests in itself, and where we connect \nwe sin against the spirit of beauty. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 205 \n\nVI \n\nBy the contrast with art the fullest light falls \non the process of science ; every step towards \nscience leads in the opposite direction. The in- \ncomplete connections of life are severed by art, \ni but made complete by science, while the material \nis the same. We had four groups of facts in \nreality, and we must thus have four groups of \nsciences which bring systematic connections into \nthe four different fields. We have the science \nof the over-individual objects, that is, physics ; \nsecondly, the science of the individual objects, \nthat is, psychology ; thirdly, the sciences of the \nover-individual will-acts, that is, the normative \nsciences ; and last, not least, the sciences of the \nindividual will-acts, that is, the historical sci- \nences. Physics and psychology have thus to do \nwith objects ; history and the normative systems, \nethics, logic, aesthetics, deal with will-acts. Psy- \nchology and history have thus absolutely differ- \nent material ; the one can never deal with the \nsubstance of the other, and thus they are sepa- \nrated by a chasm, but their method is the same. \nBoth connect their material ; both consider the \nsingle experience under the point of view of the \ntotality, working from the special facts towards \nthe general facts, from the experience towards \nthe system. And yet the difference of material \nmust, in spite of the equality of the methodo- \n\n\n\n206 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nlogical process, produce absolutely different kinds \nof systems of science. We must consider again \nfrom the standpoint of real life how the connec- \ntion of objects is different from the connection \nof attitudes, and how the purposes of the sys- \ntematizing reconstruction are different in the \ntwo cases. \n\nWe and the other subjects have objects which \nare in reality, as we have seen, objects of our \nwill. Why have we an interest in considering \nthe objects from a scientific standpoint, that is, \nin systematized connection ? If we do so, it \nmust serve, of course, a special purpose in our \nreal life. The purpose is clear. We cannot do \nthe duties of our life, that is, we cannot act on \nthe objects, if we do not know what to expect \nfrom them with regard to the reality which we \nprepare, and we call the reality which we can \nstill prepare the future. We must ask, there- \nfore, what we have to expect for the future from \nthe objects alone, that is, from the objects thought \nas if they were independent from the subjective \nwill reaction. The answer to this question as to \nour justified expectations is the system of physi- \ncal and psychological sciences. To reach this \nend we must think the objects, the individual or \nover-individual ones, as if they were no longer \nobjects of a will, as if the subject were deprived \nof its real activity and were a merely passive per- \nceiving subject the objects of which are thus \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 207 \n\ndefinitely cut away from the will. Our interest \nwas to determine their influence on the future. \nWe thus consider every object as the cause of \nan expected effect, and call those characteristics \nof the object which determine our expectation of \nthe effect its elements. Physics and psychology \nthus look on their objects as complexes of ele- \nments. It is the task of science to reconstruct \nand to transform the objects till each is con- \nceived as such a combination of elements that \nthe effects to be expected can be fully deter- \nmined from the elements. In this service grew \nup the atom doctrine in physics and the sensa- \ntion doctrine in psychology v Each object is \nthus linked into a causal system ; each is con- \nsidered not as that which it really is, but as a \ncomplex of constructed factors which are substi- \ntuted for the purpose of the causal connection, \nand each is in question in its relation to all the \nothers. The world thus becomes a system of \ncausally linked objects which can be described \nby their elements, while these elements them- \nselves are chosen from the point of view of \nexplanation by causality. The determination of \nthe effects by means of the elementary causes is \nexpressed by the laws which give the rules for \nour expectations. We can say thus that physics \nand psychology may very well consider any spe- \ncial facts, and, as we have seen, they certainly \ndo not ignore the special facts at all, but they \n\n\n\n208 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nconsider them with regard to the causal law, \nand the laws as types of causal connections are \nthus the only general facts towards which the \nsystematized study of objects can lead us. \n\nQuite different is the systematic connection of \nthe subjective will-attitudes ; we may abstract \nhere at first from the over-individual attitudes \nand concentrate our interest on the individual \nwill-acts. In psychology the will - attitude as \nsuch, as act of the real subject, cannot have any \nplace whatever ; psychology deals with objects ; \nthe subjective attitude is never an object ; it is \nnever perceived ; it is experienced by immediate \nfeeling and must be understood and interpreted, \nbut not described and explained. If psychology \nwishes to treat of the will, the psychophysical \norganism must be substituted for the real subject, \nand thus the will be considered as a process in \nthe world of objects. The description of any \nknown will-acts as psychophysical functions, that \nis, as illustrations of psychological laws, thus as \na matter of course belongs to psychology, and if \nthe psychologist should analyze into psycho- \nphysical elements and explain as causally deter- \nmined all will-acts and human functions of the \nlast three thousand years, he would not tran- \nscend the limits of psychology. It would be a \nvery useless psychological undertaking, but it \nwould be such and not history. History starts \nfrom and deals with the real subjective will-acts \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 209 \n\nwhich cannot be found in the world of psycho- \nphysical objects. \n\nOur personal life in its political, economical, \nreligious, scientific, aesthetic, technical, and prac- \ntical aspects is a manifoldness of will-attitudes \nand acknowledgments. We live in the midst of \na variety of political and social, technical and \npractical institutions, but no institution means \nanything else than expectations and demands \nwhich reach our will, and suggestions towards \nwhich we take attitudes. State and church, \nlegal community and social set, what else are \nthey but will-attitudes which we acknowledge \nand which are, therefore, never understood in \ntheir real meaning if they are considered as de- \nscribable objects, but which must be interpreted \nand appreciated as subjective will-relations, striv- \ning towards purposes and ends. And to under- \nstand all the technical and practical institutions \nwhich civilization brings to us means again not \nto describe or explain them, but to interpret \nthem as will-suggestions to be imitated. The \nmachine and the book, the law and the poem, \nare not physical and psychical objects for our \ninterests as living men, but suggestions and de- \nmands for the understanding of the intentions \nand attitudes of other subjects which we can \nenter into only by taking an imitating or reject- \ning attitude, thus reaching will by will. All our \nknowing and believing, our enjoying and re- \n\n\n\n210 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nspecting \xe2\x80\x94 as long as we abstract from their \nover-individual values \xe2\x80\x94 all our education and \ncivilization, our politics and our professional \nwork, is such a complex of real affirmations and \nnegations, demands and inhibitions, agreements \nand disagreements, which have to be understood \nand felt and interpreted, but which are not \ntouched in their reality if merely their psycho- \nphysical substitutions are analyzed and causally \nexplained. To be a Chinese or a Mohammedan, \na symbolist or an Hegelian or an atomist, means \nto be the subject of special complexes of will- \nattitudes and nothing else. If, for instance, we \nsubstitute the race for the state, then, of course, \nwe have objects before us and no longer subjec- \ntive attitudes, but then we deal with biological \nconceptions and no longer with history. \n\nVII \n\nThe manifoldness of will-acts the totality of \nwhich forms my real personality thus refers in \nevery act to the will acts and attitudes of other \nsubjects which I acknowledge or oppose, imitate \nor overcome. These demands and suggestions \nof others are not in question in my life as causes \nor partial causes of my will ; they have not to \nbe sought in the interest of a causal connection ; \nthey are merely conditions which I as subject of \nattitude and acts presuppose for my free decision, \nand which are thus logically contained in it ; the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 211 \n\nconnection is, therefore, not a causal, but merely \na teleological one. The endless world of will- \nacts which stands thus in teleologically determin- \ning relation to our own will-attitudes forms the \nonly material of history. \n\nThe material is, of course, unlimited. If \nevery act of ours means an attitude towards acts \nof others which we must try to understand, it \nis clear that those others are understood only \nif their acts again are interpreted as attitudes \ntowards the propositions and demands and sug- \ngestions of others, and so on and on. Every \nwill-act is thus ideally related to an unlimited \nmanifoldness of other acts, just as the movement \nof every grain of sand is causally related to every \nmolecule in the universe. It is the unique task \nof history as a science to work out and make \ncomplete this teleological system of individual \nwill-relations, thus to bring out the connections \nbetween our acts and all the acts which we must \nacknowledge as somehow teleologically influen- \ncing our own. While physics and psychology \nthus produce a connected system of causes and \neffects, linking all objects which stand in con- \nnection with our objects, history follows up all \nthe subjective acts which stand in will-relation to \nour subjective attitudes. \n\nPhysics and psychology, as we have seen, \nreach this end through striving towards laws \nand causality ; that, of course, cannot be the \n\n\n\n212 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nway of history. The objects interested us only \nas factors which influence the future, and the \nlaws by which we have connected them have \nsatisfied this expectant interest. The subjects, \non the other hand, do not interest us primarily \nas causes of effects. Of course, we are able to \nconsider them also as objects which produce \neffects, and that aspect may become important to \nus in many practical respects ; psychophysics will \nfully satisfy this kind of interest. And in the \nsame way we may look on the development of \npeoples with an interest in what we have to ex- \npect from them ; they are then sociological or- \nganisms, the laws of which we study ; but such \nstudy is not history. The aim of the real his- \ntorian is not to prophesy the future. Peoples \nnever learn from history, and the forgotten doc- \ntrine that we ought to study history to find out \nwhat we have to expect from the future stands \non the same level with its contemporary, the \ndoctrine that it is the purpose of art to instruct \nus and to make us better. No, the historian \nmakes us understand the system of will-attitudes \nto which our individual will is related. That, \nindeed, alone, is our primary interest in the will- \nacts of other subjects; we want to understand \nthem, not to analyze them into elements ; we \nwant to interpret their meanings and not to cal- \nculate their future. The objects awake our ex- \npectations ; the subjects interest our appreciation, \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 213 \n\nand all that we want to know about them is with \nwhat other attitudes they agree or disagree. We \nthus have the logical aim, to consider them in \ntheir relations to all other will-attitudes and to \nwork out the system of these connections; that \nis, to consider the institutions which are the \nrepresentatives of will-suggestions, together with \nthe personalities themselves, as links of this end- \nless chain of will-relations. \n\nThe purpose of history is not reached until \nevery institution and personality with which we \nmay be in a direct or indirect will-relation is un- \nderstood as a complex of agreements and disa- \nagreements, that is, of will-attitudes towards other \nsubjects. This regress must be, of course, infi- \nnite, just as no physical process can be reached \nwhich has not again causes and effects ; and this \ntask demands also, like the naturalistic sciences, \na continual transformation. Just as the physical \nobject is not really a complex of atoms and the \npsychological idea not really a complex of sen- \nsations, but must be in thought transformed into \nsuch to make causal connection possible, so in \nexactly the same way history must reconstruct \nthe personalities and institutions as complexes of \nwill-attitudes, which they really are not, but as \nwhich they must be considered to make the un- \nbroken teleological connection possible. And, \nagain, like physics and psychology, history too \ncannot communicate to us the whole of the con- \n\n\n\n214 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nnected system, but has to work out the general \nfacts which give to every single fact at once its \nplace in the whole system. These general facts \nin the teleological will-system cannot be causal \nlaws, but must be will-relations of more and \nmore comprehensive character. Just as in the \nworld of objects the general law covers and de- \ntermines the causal changes of an unlimited \nnumber of objects, so the important will-actions \ncover and determine in the world of subjects the \nimpulses and suggestions for the decisions and \nattitudes of an unlimited number. The regu- \nlarity of the causal law and the importance of \nthe imposing will lift in a corresponding way the \ngeneral fact over the level of the single facts. \nIt is the work of history to make conspicuous \nthe increasingly important will-influences, as it \nis the work of physics and psychology to work \nout the laws. If I say I am a German, I want \nto assert by that statement that I acknowledge \nby my will a world of laws, institutions, hopes \nand ideals which are the will-demands of an \nundetermined multitude of subjects ; this multi- \ntude constitutes the historical nation of Ger- \nmany. But it would be unscientific if I should \nstart to interpret the attitude of every one who \nis part of that chaotic mass of subjects ; it is \nthe work of science to find those influences \nwhich determined the multitude, those will-acts \nwhich were imitated and acknowledged by the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 215 \n\nunimportant subjects. The chaos thus becomes \norder, and Goethe and Beethoven, Kant and \nHegel, Luther and Bismarck, stand as the gen- \neral facts for the millions and millions of less \nimportant subjects who were determined by their \nsuggestions. Any individual\'s historical place \nis then characterized by his will-attitudes to- \nwards the leaders. Just as the naturalist knows \na whole hierarchy of sciences which work out \nincreasingly general laws up to mechanics as the \nmost abstract system, so history can consider in \ndifferent stages the will-relations of more and \nmore comprehensive character. The most ab- \nstract view is represented by the so-called phi- \nlosophy of history, which aims at understanding \nthe history of the world as determined by one \ndecision of the will. In this spirit the concep- \ntion of original sin in the theological systems of \nthe Middle Ages was in the field of historical \nthinking perhaps not less marvelous than the \nconception of atomistic mechanism in the realm \nof natural science. The fact that Adam did not \nexist in reality is as little an objection to the \nmediaeval construction as the fact that no atom \ncan really exist militates against our atomism; \nboth reconstructions of reality fill merely ideal \nplaces as necessary goals of thought. \n\nOn the other hand, in the same way that \nmechanics does not lower the importance of \nspecial natural sciences, no all-embracing theory \n\n\n\n216 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nof the history of man can interfere with the \nimportance of the special historic disciplines \ndown to the biographies of single personalities. \nBut even the biography has to work in the same \ndirection as the most abstract philosophy of \nhistory, in the direction of general connection. \nThe real biography written in an historical spirit \nshows in the individual the attitudes towards the \ndemands and suggestions which make the history \nof mankind ; the single man becomes thus the \ncrossing point of all the political, technical, reli- \ngious, aBsthetical, intellectual impulses of his \ntime, and he is thus by the will-attitudes which \nconstitute his personality connected with the \nwhole universe of will-acts. As the astronomer \nin his calculations describes the one curve of a \nstar as the combination of a large number of \nimpulses by attraction, and thus brings the star \nin relation to the whole firmament, so the his- \ntorical biographer reconstructs the one life as a \nsystem of single attitudes towards an endless \nmultitude of demands and suggestions. It is a \ncomplete transformation in the service of connec- \ntion. The man\'s life can be told otherwise also : \nthe life as he feels it as a personal experience ; \nso also do we learn to understand the man, but \nwe have then poetry and not history ; it is isola- \ntion and not connection. And if, instead, we \ndescribe and explain his life as a set of ideas, \nfeelings, emotions, and volitions which arose in \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 217 \n\nhis psychophysical system from birth to death, \nthen we have again a transformation in the ser- \nvice of connection, but this time for the causal \nconnection of objects, not for the teleological \nconnection of subjects ; it is again not history, \nbut psychology. \n\nVIII \n\nThe separation of the material of the two \nsciences is thus simple and clear; there can \nnever be a doubt about the line of demarcation, \nas there is no psychophysical object in the world \n\xe2\x80\x94 from the sensations of a frog up to the ideas \nof Newton, the emotions of Byron, and the voli- \ntions of Cromwell \xe2\x80\x94 which is not a suitable \nobject of psychology, and as there is no sub- \njective individual act which cannot be linked \ninto the endless teleological system of history. \nA division of material, as if a social psychology, \nfor instance, were to deal with the psychical \nprocesses of the unknown masses, while history \nwere to deal with the psychical processes of the \nwell-known men, is an absurdity. Not less mis- \nleading would be an antithesis between savagery \nand civilization. From a psychophysical stand- \npoint such a line is secondary; the organism \nwhich adds outer appendages to his body to \nmake the psychophysical functions more effec- \ntive has reached merely a higher stage of bio- \nlogical development, but is not different in prin- \n\n\n\n218 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nciple from the lower type in which nature does \nnot provide for detachable acquisitions of the \nor onanism. The animal which runs with loco- \nmotives, sees with microscopes, hears with tele- \nphones, makes gestures of expression through \nnewspapers, attacks through cannons, and remem- \nbers through libraries, stands above the savage as \na dog stands above a jelly-fish, but it is theoreti- \ncally nothing new ; it is a more complicated pro- \nduct of nature which, therefore, offers a more \ndifficult problem to the descriptions and expla- \nnations of psychology and physiology, but does \nnot as such become material for history. And \nstill another line of separation must disappear ; \nthe n>ht between the " materialists " and the \n" idealists " of the recent economical schools has \nnothing to do with the doubleness of psycho- \nlogical naturalism and real historical aspect. If \nthe materialists claim that every occurrence \namong: men is the direct or indirect effect of \neconomical causes, while the idealists consider \nother causes still which seem to them independent \nof material conditions, for instance, religious \nand patriotic emotion or ambition and love, both \nsides stand fully on the ground of psychology \nand outside of history. Those emotions of \npractical idealism are in question only as psycho- \nphysical causes, and are thus material merely for \na causal system. In the system of history exists \nno causality. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 219 \n\nHere is the point where even the historians \nthemselves are inclined to compromises which, \nat least in principle, must be rejected. Whether \nor not practically quite interesting reports of \nperiods of civilization can be written by mixing \nthe two attitudes is secondary. Historians, we \nknow, produced in earlier times their deepest \neffects by mixing history with ethics, but the \nphilosopher at least must be clear that ethics is \nnot history, and he ought to be still less in doubt \nthat a causally explaining social psychology is \nnot history either. As soon as it is acknow- \nledged that we have, on the one side, an interest \nto consider human life as an object and thus to \ndescribe and to explain it, and that we have, on \nthe other side, a logical aim to understand \nhuman life as subjective acts which can be inter- \npreted and linked together only by will-attitudes, \nthen we must have the energy to keep the two \nsystems separated. Each is logically valuable, \neach is therefore true, but if confused both \nbecome logically useless. \n\nWe can say that Socrates remained in the \nprison because his knee muscles were contracted \nin a sitting position and not working to effect \nhis escape, and that these muscle-processes took \nplace because certain psychophysical ideas, emo- \ntions, and volitions, all composed of elementary \nsensations, occurred in his brain, and that they, \nagain, were the effects of all the causes which \n\n\n\n220 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nsense stimulations and dispositions, associations \nand inhibitions, physiological and climatic influ- \nences, produced in that organism. And we can \nsay, on the other hand, that Socrates remained \nin the prison because he decided to be obedient \nto the laws of Athens unto death. This obedi- \nence means, then, not a psychophysical process, \nbut a will-attitude which we must understand \nby feeling it and living through it, an attitude \nwhich we cannot analyze, but which we inter- \npret and appreciate. The first is a psychological \ndescription ; the second is an historical interpre- \ntation. Both are true. They are, to be sure, \nnot equally valuable for science, as that particu- \nlar psychophysical process is not more important \nfor the understanding of the psychological sys- \ntem than millions of other emotions in unknown \nmen, while that will-attitude influenced by its \ndemand the acknowledging will of twenty cen- \nturies, and is thus most important in the his- \ntorical system. And yet both are equally true, \nwhile they blend into an absurdity if we say that \nthose psychophysical states in the brain of \nSocrates were the objects which inspired the will \nof his pupils and were suggestive through two \nthousand years. \n\nA history which interprets subjectively and \nunderstands their purposes out of the deeds of \nmen relinquishes, indeed, its only aim if it coor- \ndinates these teleological relations with the causal \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 221 \n\nexplanation of human happenings from climatic \nand geographical, technical and economical, \nphysiological and pathological influences. The \nsubject which is determined by purposes is free ; \nthe action which is the effect of causes is unf ree. \nIn the unfree world there cannot be any action \nwhich must not be understood causally, and we \nhave no right to stop at any point in our expla- \nnation ; the unexplained action means only an \nunsolved problem which is in no way solved if \nwe seek for its subjective meaning instead of its \nelements and causes. In the world of freedom, \non the other hand, it would be meaningless to \nask for cause, as the objects then come in ques- \ntion merely as objects for the willing subjects \nand not as realities for themselves. The realm \nof freedom is not made up of oases in the world \nof necessity ; the reality of history is not spread \nhere and there over the field of nature, but lies \nfully outside of its limits. The antithesis be- \ntween psychology and history is thus not law \nand single event, but causality and freedom, and \nthis difference is the logical result of the onto- \nlogical difference of the material, the one deal- \ning with objects, the other with subjects. Both \ngo methodologically the same way, considering \nthe single facts from the point of view of the \ngeneral fact, and both transforming the dis- \nconnected material until a perfectly connected \nsystem is reached. But because objects are \n\n\n\n222 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nunderstood by describing and explaining them, \nwhile subjects are understood by interpreting \nand appreciating them, the connection of the \none system must be causal, that of the other \nsystem teleological, and the general fact in the \none field must be a law and in the other field \nthe will relation of importance. As every sub- \njective act can be replaced by a psychophy- \nsical function of an organism in the world of \nobjects, and as every object can be understood \nas a value for a will, the whole reality can be \nbrought without any possible remainder under \nthe one aspect as well as under the other. His- \ntory, in the real historical spirit, then need no \nlonger fear that the progress of psychology can \ninhibit its functions, and the psychologist need \nnot feel discouraged that his psychological laws \nof history appear so utterly trivial to the his- \ntorian. That which is important for psychology, \nthat which is fit for constructing connections \nbetween psychological objects, has the privilege \nof being indifferent for the historian, that is, of \nbeing unfit to link subjective will - attitudes. \nPsychology and history cannot help each other \nand cannot interfere with each other as long as \nthey consistently stick to their own aims. Each \nof them has thus unlimited opportunities for \ndevelopment. The processions of the great \npsychologists from Aristotle to Herbart, and \nthat of the great historians from Thucydides to \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 223 \n\nMacaulay, can both have for the future an un- \nlimited number of followers without any quarrel, \nin spite of the naturalistic claims of our age, \nwhich for a while was under the illusion that all \nis understood when all is explained, and that the \nhistorians had better become psychologists. \n\nIX \n\nAs soon as the difference of the two stand- \npoints is recognized, light falls on all the special \ncharacteristics of the two sciences. Now we \nunderstand why history stands so much nearer \nto real life than psychology. Not, as it was \nsuggested, because history deals with single facts \nand psychology with general facts, but because \npsychology deals with objects which are thought \nas independent of the subject, while in reality \nand so in history the material is acknowledged \nonly in relation to willing subjects. In real life \nwe are subjects which must be understood but \nnot described ; psychology starts thus at once \nwith a material which in its singleness is already \nfarther away from reality than the material with \nwhich history deals. Now we understand also \nwhy the substance of history has value for us, \nwhile the objects of psychology and of all natu- \nralistic sciences are emotionally indifferent. That \nis not, as it was suggested, because the single \nfacts are important for us and the general facts \nindifferent; no, it is because the psychological \n\n\n\n224 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nobjects, the contents of consciousness, are thought \nas cut loose from the will and thus no longer \npossible objects for appreciation, while the his- \ntorical objects are thought as in their relation to \nthe attitudes of the will. Now we understand \nalso under which principle the historian selects \nhis material. If we accept the view that all \nsingle facts belong to history as such, it is arbi- \ntrariness to chronicle Napoleon\'s battles and \nstate acts but not his flirtations and breakfasts, \nwhile now we understand how it is that this \nselection means the most essential part of the \nhistorian\'s work, as it is the way to transform \nthe reality into a system of teleological connec- \ntions, thus dropping more and more the will-acts \nwhich have no teleological importance for will- \nattitudes of other subjects. Now we understand \nalso why the language of the historian has so \nmuch similarity with that of the poet. The his- \ntorian, we have seen, has aims which are directly \nantagonistic to those of the poet, as the poet \nisolates, while the historian, like every scientist, \nconnects his material. But the materials them- \nselves, the subjective acts, are common to the \npoet and the historian. Where the psychologist \nencourages the reader to take the attitude of the \nobjectively perceiving observer, the poet and the \nhistorian speak of facts which can be understood \nonly by interpretation and inner imitation ; they \ncannot be described by enumerating their ele- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 225 \n\nments ; they must be suggested and reach some- \nhow the willing subject which enters into the \nsubjective attitude of the other. Thus the means \nof both may approximate to each other. The \npoet and the historian may use the same meth- \nods of suggestion to reinforce in the reader the \nsubjectifying attitude which is the presupposition \nfor the understanding of the isolated will-acts in \nthe work of poetry and the connected will-acts \nin the work of history, while the psychologist \nhas to adapt even his style and his presentation \nto the service of his objectifying aim. \n\nBut we now understand and see in a new li^ht \nalso the relations of the psychological and his- \ntorical sciences to the normative doctrines, to \nethics, logic, and aesthetics. As long as history \nappears merely as a part of psychology or as long \nas the one is given over to single facts, the other \nto laws, all the normative sciences stand without \nany inner relation to any empirical science, those \nspeaking of duties, these of facts. For us the \nrelation takes a very different form. We have \nseen that all the historical sciences are systems \nof individual will-relations and nothing else. On \nthe other hand, we have found that duty never \nmeans anything but our own over-individual will- \nact. All the normative sciences are thus the \nsystematic connections of our over-individual \nwill-attitudes, our will-attitudes aiming toward \nmorality and truth and beauty and religion. As \n\n\n\n226 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nthe over-individual will is, of course, thought as \nindependent of the individual subject, the con- \nnection which is sought cannot lead as it did in \nhistory from subject to subject; as all subjects \nare presupposed as agreeing in their over-indi- \nvidual acknowledgment, the connection, the sci- \nentific aim can then lie here merely in the sys- \ntematic connection of our own over-individual \npurposes and their interpretation. Here, too, \na transformation becomes necessary in the in- \nterest of connection ; each single will-attitude \nmust be linked into this teleological system, and \nmust thus be transformed till it represents a \ncrossing point of all the ethical, sesthetical, re- \nligious, and logical impulses and demands. The \nnormative sciences and history stand thus in the \nnearest relation to each other ; both are trans- \nformations of will-acts in the service of teleo- \nlogical connection, only the one reconstructs and \nsystematizes the individual will-acts in us, the \nother the over-individual will-acts. \n\nThe relation between these two groups of sci- \nences> the historical and the normative ones, is \nthus perfectly parallel to the relation between \nthe psychological sciences and the physical sci- \nences, of which the one systematizes the indi- \nvidual objects and the other the over-individual \nobjects. The proportion \xe2\x80\x94 history stands to \nthe normative doctrines as psychology stands to \nphysics \xe2\x80\x94 is, indeed, true in every respect and in \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY 227 \n\nevery consequence. We may consider here as \nour last word only one of them. The historical \ndevelopment of the naturalistic sciences shows \nthe continuous tendency to take more and more \nof the properties of the physical object into the \npsychological object, that is, to show that the \napparent over-individual qualities of the thing \nare qualities which depend upon the individual ; \ncolor and sound, smell and taste, go over from \nthe physical thing into the idea, and thus the \nwhole manif oldness of our experience moves over \ninto the sphere of ideas. In exactly the same \nway and led by the same methodological mo- \ntives, history takes more and more of the nor- \nmative duties over into its own field, and shows \nhow the special duties, the logical beliefs, ethical \nconvictions, sesthetical demands and religious pos- \ntulates are the results of individual attitudes under \nthe suggestion of the individual groups of will- \ninfluences. The absolute duties and beliefs and \nobligations and truths seem thus lost in our life \nas the colors and sounds and smells are lost for \nthe physical objects. But the parallelism holds \nfor the end-point of this development too. We \nmust deprive the physical object of its colors \nand sounds, but we cannot give up the truth \nthat there is a physical object nevertheless, as \nthe quantitative reality to which we project, with \nobjective truth, our sensations and ideas ; all the \nnaturalistic sciences would be destroyed if we \n\n\n\n228 PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY \n\nwere to give up this realistic conviction of physics. \nIn the same way we may take into the individual \nall the single over-individual special duties o\xc2\xa3 \nspecial nations and ages and social groups, but \nthe reality of the background of projection we \ncannot give up. Whatever history teaches, the \npostulate of the reality of duties, of absolute \nvalues, stands firm. The absolute duties may \nbe abstract and deprived of color and sound as \nis the world of physics, but they stand and must \nlast like the physical universe, and whoever in \nstriving towards truth denies the reality of abso- \nlute values and gives up the belief in morality \nand the belief in logic, thus destroys and under- \nmines his own endeavor to find the truth as \nlogical thinker and to stand for the truth as \nethical man. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\n\n\nMysticism \xe2\x80\x94 that is, the belief in supernatural \nconnections in the physical and psychical worlds \n\xe2\x80\x94 has always been an interesting object of ob- \nservation for the psychologist. When the hu- \nman mind believes that it has reached the realm \nunseen, psychology can analyze its inner experi- \nences and follow up the devious paths from \nempirical knowledge to the knowing of the \nmysterious Unknowable. From this point of \nview, psychology finds a wonderful field of work \nin the mystical systems from the earliest Hindoo \nspeculation to the spiritualistic doctrines of to- \nday ; and its interest in mysticism is the deeper \nand more spontaneous, the more complicated \nthe motives which push the soul beyond the \nlimits of natural insight. Religious emotion and \nhysterical rapture, mysterious fears and super- \nstitious habits, pathological disturbances and \nsurprising experiences, abnormal credulity and \ndissatisfaction with science, and very many other \ntrue and half-true impulses come in question. \nEven the pseudo-mystic, who deceives the world \n\n\n\n230 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nbecause he knows that the world wishes to be \ndeceived, becomes an attractive object for psy- \nchological analysis ; fanaticism regarding the \nchurch and greed for bread and butter, hysteri- \ncal pleasure in irritating tricks and sensuous \npleasure in power over others, are here among \nthe most characteristic features. What a differ- \nence between the neoplatonistic philosopher, who \nsinks into the Absolute and finds the super- \nnatural reality by his feeling of unity with God, \nand the modern member of a Society for Psy- \nchical Research, who discovers the supernatural \nworld by his mathematical calculations on the \nprobable error in telepathic answers about play- \ning-cards ! What a difference between the \nmediaeval monk, who becomes convinced of the \nmystical sphere because the Virgin appears to \nhim in the clouds, and the modern scholar, who \nis converted because a pathological woman is \nable to chat about his personal secrets at the \nrate of twenty francs a sitting ! Yet psychology \nrecognizes the common features and understands \nthe mental laws which make mysticism a never- \nfailing element of the social consciousness ; the \nwilder its eccentricities, the more interesting the \npsychological material. \n\nBut the claims of mysticism suggest to the \npsychologist another attitude less peaceable than \nthat of the observer, the attitude of a rival. If \nmystics believed only that heavy chairs some- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 231 \n\ntimes fly through the air, that invisible bells \nring, and that objects disappear into the fourth \ndimension, they would have to fight it out with \nthe physicists, but psychology would not inter- \nfere. If, inspired by occult advisers, they pro- \nposed a new metaphysical theory of the ultimate \nsubstratum of the physical universe, the philoso- \nphers might stand up as indignant competitors, \nbut the psychologists, again, would have nothing \nto do with it. The physicians may dispute with \nthe mystics whether the waters of Lourdes are \nhelpful, whether the comets are causes of pesti- \nlence, and whether men die on account of being \nthirteenth at table. There is, perhaps, not a single \nscience, from geometry to theology, which has \nnot its private conflicts with the mystical doc- \ntrines ; but psychology has no reason to enter \nthe quarrel so long as the mystic does not under- \ntake to answer psychological questions. In this \nfield, however, mysticism has never shown too \nmuch modesty. It has at all times, by prefer- \nence, rioted in the proclamation of mental facts \nwhich did not fit into the descriptions and ex- \nplanations of a sober empirical psychology. If \nmysticism is right with its old claims, psy- \nchology, even with its newest discoveries, is \nwrong ; and thus arises the question, What has \nthe psychologist to say of the claims of mysti- \ncism concerning mental processes and the laws \nof mental action ? \n\n\n\n232 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nThese claims have been different at different \nperiods and in different nations, and are still so \ndivergent that no scientist can contend more \nsharply with the mystical creeds than they \ncontend with one another in the different sets \nto-day. The telepathists annihilate the theoso- \nphists, and the spiritualists belittle the telepa- \nthists ; and when the Christian scientists and \nmetaphysical healers on the one side, the mind \ncurers and faith curers on the other side, have \nspoken of each other, there remain few abusive \nwords at the disposal of us outsiders. The \naverage mystic of to-day is a man of high logical \nambitions. He looks with contempt on the \ngypsy who reads your character from the \ngrounds in a coffee-cup, and smiles over the as- \ntrological belief that the position of the stars in \nthe hour of your birth has decided your success \nin love. The medical remedies which have to be \ncooked at midnight at the churchyard gate are \nin discredit ; and as we live in an enlightened \nasre, it even appears doubtful whether the \n\n\n\n\'O \n\n\n\nappears \n\n\n\nwitches of early time were really under Satanic \ninfluences, as their witchcraft can now be " ex- \nplained" by the telepathic action of mediums, \nby malicious spirits and materializations. The \nrequirements of mysticism thus shrink to the \nfollowing main demands. First, the human \nmind must sometimes be able to perceive in an \nincomprehensible way the ideas and thoughts of \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 233 \n\nothers. By gradual approaches, this telepathic \ntalent seems also connected with the power to \nhave knowledge of distant physical occurrences ; \nand if our concessions have reached this point, \nwe ought not to strain at the little addendum, \nthe vision of the future. In all cases of this \nkind the exceptional talents of the soul are re- \nceptive and passive. A second group of mysti- \ncal powers may be formed by the corresponding \nactive influences. In an inconceivable way, it \nis assumed, the human mind can control the \nthoughts and actions of others ; and here, again, \nsmall steps lead soon to greater and greater mys- \nteries. The mental influence may reach not \nonly the soul, but also the body of the other \nperson, and may restore his disturbed health; \neven a child may produce such metaphysical \nhealing of consumption and heart trouble, can- \ncer and broken legs. The mind which by " love " \nbrings together the fragments of a neighbor\'s \nbroken bones ought surely to have no serious \ndifficulties with the movements of inorganic \nbodies : at the bidding of such a mind, tables \nfly to the ceiling, and a little stick in the hands \nof a weak woman cannot be moved by the \nstrongest man. A third group refers to the \nfunctions of a deeper self, which is usually hid- \nden under our regular personality. In the most \ndifferent trance states, in crystal vision and auto- \nmatic writing, this mysterious self appears, and \n\n\n\n234 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nremembers all that we have forgotten, knows \nmany things which we never knew, writes and \nacts without our control, and shows connections \nwhich go far beyond our powers, and mostly \neven beyond our tastes. Nearly related to these \nfacts is a fourth circle of mystical doctrines, \nwhich deal with the psychical deeds of the hu- \nman spirit after the earthly death. According \nto these doctrines, the spirits are ready to enter \ninto communication with living men by the help \nof mediums, with or without materialization, by \nnoises or by table tilting, by slate drawing, and \nrecently even by typewriting. This creed be- \ncomes, of course, the starting-point for many \ndenominational divergences. \n\nII \n\nThe most natural question is, How far can the \nregular empirical psychology acknowledge the \nclaimed phenomena ? Where is the exact limit \nwhich the scientific psychologist is unwilling to \npass ? He does not discredit perception of voices \nfrom far distances if a telephone is included, \nand he does not doubt that one person may have \ninfluence over another in a hundred ways. We \nmust carefully consider where the mystery be- \ngins. The attitude of common sense, however, \nmust not be allowed to dictate this line of de- \nmarcation ; otherwise the psychologist would be \nbound to denounce all facts which are rare and \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 235 \n\nsurprising to the naive consciousness, or incapa- \nble of explanation to the dilettante. Let us \nremember that it counts for little whether a fact \noccurs once a day or once in a century, and that \nmany facts of physiological and pathological \npsychology must appear to the naive mind much \nmore surprising and alarming than do the pre- \ntensions of the spiritualist. It seems much \nsimpler and more natural to grant that a little \nword or figure may wander by mere thought \ntransference from one\'s mind into the mind of a \nbystander, than to believe in the startling fea- \ntures of the more complicated cases of hypno- \ntism and somnambulism, hysteria and insanity, \nall of which find legitimate place in the system \nof modern psychology. \n\nIf we begin with the first two groups of the \nclaims of mystics, \xe2\x80\x94 the passive reception of \nouter psychical and physical events, and the \nactive influence upon other souls and organisms, \n\xe2\x80\x94 we can easily state the general principle which \nhere controls the psychological attitude, though \nit may often be far from easy to follow up the \nprinciple in specific cases. The psychologist in- \nsists that every perception of occurrences outside \nof one\'s own body and every influence beyond \none\'s own organism must be intermediated by an \nuninterrupted chain of physical processes. The \njustice of this apparently arbitrary decision may \nbe examined later ; at first we ask only for its \n\n\n\n236 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nprecise meaning and its consequences. With re- \ngard to perception, the limit is certainly sharply \ndrawn, and yet it may be often difficult to recog- \nnize it. We perceive only objects which directly \nor indirectly stimulate our physical sense organs, \nand which stimulate them by physical means. \nThe perception of a man\'s body is therefore the \nprimary process ; the perception of his thoughts \nand feelings is secondary, as they must be some- \nhow physically expressed in order to act as \nstimuli for the sense organs. \n\nIn two directions the case may become abnor- \nmal : the transmitter or the receiver may differ \nfrom the usual type of communicating persons. \nThe transmitter himself, for instance, may not \nbe conscious that he expresses his ideas, or, \nbetter, that his ideas discharge themselves in \nperceptible physical processes. He may blush \nwithout knowing it, and thus betray his inner \nshame ; or he may contract the muscles which \nturn his body toward the outer point he is think- \ning of; or his breathing or pulse may change \nthrough his excitement over a question ; and the \nreceiver may be in a situation to become aware \nof these unintended signals of inner states. \nHere belongs the well-known stage piece of \nmuscle reading, which is often carelessly con- \nfused with real telepathy. It certainly is one of \nthe easily explicable forms of psychophysical \ncommunication. Here belong as well all the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 237 \n\nslight hints by which nervous persons make it \npossible again and again for confessed impostors \nto play the roles of successful mind readers. \nThe pseudo-mediums need only to seek for in- \nformation in desultory chatting, which, under \nthe high tension of expectancy, suffices to bring \nabout all kinds of unintended expressions which \nshow the clever juggler the way. \n\nThe receiver of the physical impressions, also, \nmay differ from the average. We think pri- \nmarily of the possibility that the receiving in- \nstruments \xe2\x80\x94 that is, the sense organs or the \nsensory brain parts and nerve paths \xe2\x80\x94 may have \nbecome abnormally sensitive, by training or by \npathological variations. Through the touch \nsensation of his face the blind man perceives \ndistant obstacles in his way, to which our un- \ntrained central sense apparatus is unresponsive ; \nbut that does not conflict with the propositions \nof psychology, and is not mystical. We know \nthat the threshold for just perceptible sensations \nis often surprisingly lowered for hypnotic and \nhysterical subjects, who can thus perceive faint \nimpressions and signals which must escape the \nnormal consciousness. Even if a man were so \ngifted as to discriminate smells like a dog, or to \nsee the ultra-violet rays, or to perceive solids by \nthe Roentgen rays, or if he had a sense organ for \nelectric currents more sensitive than the finest \ngalvanometer, the psychologist would have no \n\n\n\n238 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nreason for skepticism so long as the physical \nnature of the transmission from the outer object \nto the brain is admitted. Other variations in \nthe receiver may be determined by his state of \nattention. An outer stimulus may reach his \nbrain by the door of his senses without producing \nan apperceived idea at the moment, but not \nwithout influence on his later feelings and ac- \ntions ; a molecular alteration of the brain dispo- \nsition may last and work as after effect of the \nstimulation without having attracted the atten- \ntion at all. This occurrence, also, which in \nnarrow limits is famihar and usual enough, may \nbe pathologically exaggerated, and may then, as \nfor instance in hysterical cases, produce surpris- \ning results, if the subject shows undoubted \nknowledge of facts which he could never have \nacquired consciously ; but this, likewise, nowhere \ntranscends the psychological probabilities. \n\nStill more complicated, perhaps, are the varia- \ntions in the active power of the mind, within the \nlimits which psychologists willingly acknowledge, \nor at least ought to acknowledge. Our thoughts \nand volitions certainly have influence on other \nminds ; we should not speak a word nor write a \nline if we did not believe that. But again we \nconsider the psychical effects which we produce \nin others as intermediated by physical processes. \nWe stimulate the optic and acoustic and tactual \nnerves of others with the purpose of reaching \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 239 \n\ntheir central nervous system, and of producing \nthere the ideas with which we started. These \nideas must then work for themselves ; they stir \nup their associations and awaken their inhibi- \ntions, but the outsider cannot add anything fur- \nther. He can only communicate the ideas, and \nlet them work in the receiver from a psychologi- \ncal point of view ; that is all the influence we \nhave on our fellow men. \n\nIll \n\nThere is one complication of this trivial pro- \ncess of communication which seems to touch the \nborderland of mysticism, \xe2\x80\x94 hypnotic sugges- \ntion. The hypnotized subject must do what- \never the hypnotizer suggests to him. Here the \nwill of one mind seems to have an incompre- \nhensible influence over the other, and as if it \nwere only a short way from the hypnotic rap- \nport to the influences of mystical character; \nthat is, of a kind which excludes the possibility \nof physical intermediation. The resemblance is \ndeceptive, however ; even the most complicated \ncase of hypnotic influence is based only on ele- \nmentary actions which occur every moment in \nour normal mental life. If we want some one \nto do a thing, we communicate our wish to him, \ntrusting that the idea proposed will discharge \nitself in the desired motor action. That cor- \nresponds fully to our general knowledge that \n\n\n\n240 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nevery sensory mental state is at the same time \nthe starting-point of motor impulses. If we say \nto our neighbor, "Please pass me the cream," \nwe take for granted that the communicated idea \nwill discharge itself in the little action. But if \nwe say, "Please jump out of the window," the \nresult will not be the same. The communicated \nidea by itself alone would have the effect of \nproducing the action demanded, but it awakens \nby the regular associative mechanism a set of \nideas on the folly of the demand and the danger \nof the undertaking, and all these associations are \nstarting-points for antagonistic impulses which \nare finally reinforced by the whole personality : \nthe proposed action is thus inhibited, and the \nman does not jump. He would jump if the an- \ntagonistic idea could be kept down ; and in this \ncase the foolish action would be just as neces- \nsarily determined by the conditions and just as \nnatural as the reasonable one. But we all know \nthat this power of ideas to overcome antagonistic \nassociations is quite a normal thing, active in the \nmost varying measure everywhere in our normal \nmental life. \n\nWe call an idea which thus checks the an- \ntagonistic one a suggestion, and we may be sure \nthat no education or art, no politics or church \nlife, would be possible without such suggestions. \nThe idea may become a suggestion by the way \nin which it is presented, but it may also acquire \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 241 \n\nthis character by the disposition of the receiver. \nWe know there are stubborn men who contra- \ndict every proposition, and there are others who \nare open to every new idea without inner resist- \nance, and ready to believe everything they hear, \nor even everything they see in print. They \nare thus more at the mercy of suggestions ; we \nsay they show greater suggestibility. On the \nother hand, every man\'s suggestibility is vari- \nable ; it is increased by fear and other emotions, \nby alcohol and other nervines, and under special \nconditions it may reach a pathological intensity. \nThis abnormal degree of suggestibility, in which \nthe antagonistic associations of the suggested \nideas are more or less completely inhibited, is the \nmental state we call hypnotism. If this state \nof increased suggestibility is reached, the outer \naction which fulfills the proposed suggestion \nbecomes, through the regular psychophysical \nmechanism, unavoidable. The final results, to \nbe sure, may appear surprisingly different from \nthe normal actions of the personality, but even \nthe most absurd hypnotic action is based on these \nsimple psychological principles. As, theoreti- \ncally, everybody can hypnotize everybody, it is \nobvious that no special mystical power need be \ninvoked at this point ; and even if we induce \nthe hypnotized subject to do a criminal action, it \nis no mysterious power with which we overcome \nhis honesty, but a combination of processes \n\n\n\n242 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nwhich are neither clearer nor more obscure than \nnormal attention and association. There is not \nthe slightest reason to consider hypnotism, with \nall its ramifications, as in any degree mystical \nbecause of its weird and alarming results. We \nmay not understand every detail as yet, but \nnothing need suggest any doubt that other prin- \nciples are involved than those in daily mental \nactivity. Hypnotism is free from responsibility \nfor mystical theories. Mysticism, on the other \nhand, cannot hope to pass through the entrance \ndoor of science on account of its superficial simi- \nlarity to some hypnotic cases. \n\nPractically, the two may be mixed till they \nare indistinguishable. In spiritualistic seances \nthe plain hypnotic phenomena are not seldom \nused to smooth the way for the telepathic mys- \nticism, as criticism of the latter will be less sharp \nif the first part of the performance is undoubt- \nedly reliable. If there is no physical interme- \ndiation between the transmitter and the receiver, \nthought transference remains mystical, and whe- \nther the receiver is hypnotized or not has nothing \nto do with the case. No change is involved \nby the belief of the subject, no matter how sin- \ncere, that he is under such mystical influence \nfrom far distances. Only a short time ago I \nhad such a case under my observation. There \ncame to me, late at night, a stranger, in wildest \ndespair, resolved to commit suicide that night if \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 243 \n\nI could not help him. He had been a physi- \ncian, but had given up his practice because his \nbrother, on the other side of the ocean, hated \nhim and had him under his telepathic influence, \ntroubling him from over the sea with voices \nwhich mocked him and with impulses to foolish \nactions. He had not slept nor had he eaten \nanything for several days, and the only chance \nfor life he saw was that a new hypnotic influ- \nence might overpower the mystical hypnotic \nforces. I soon found the source of his trouble. \nIn treating himself for a wound he had misused \ncocaine in an absurd way, and the hallucination \nof voices was the chief symptom of his cocain- \nism. These products of his poisoned brain \nhad sometimes reference to his brother in Europe, \nand thus the telepathic idea grew in him and \npermeated his whole life. I hypnotized him, \nand suggested to him with success to have sleep \nand food and a smaller dose of cocaine. Then \nI hypnotized him daily for six weeks. After \nten days he gave up cocaine entirely, after three \nweeks the voices disappeared, and after that the \nother symptoms faded away. It was not, however, \nuntil the end that the telepathic theory was ex- \nploded. Even when the voices had gone, he \nfelt for a while that his movements were con- \ntrolled from over the ocean ; and after six \nweeks, when I had made him quite well again, \nhe laughed over his telepathic absurdities, but \n\n\n\n244 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nassured me that if these sensations came a^ain \nhe should be unable, even in full health, to \nresist the mystical interpretation, so vividly had \nhe felt the distant influences. \n\nIV \n\nThis case may bring us to another main group \nof personal influences, the therapeutical ones. \nThe man of common sense is more suspicious of \nfraud in this field than anywhere else, and yet \nthe psychologist must here concede as possible a \ngreater part of the claimed facts than in the \nother domains of mysticism. He will reject a \ngood deal, it is true, and in acknowledging the \nrest of the facts he will not think of committing \nhimself to the theories ; yet he must feel sorry \nthat truth demands from him the acknowledg- \nment of anything, not because he thinks himself \nbound to advertise the regular practicing phy- \nsician, but because he knows how these facts \ncarry with them a flock of contagious confus- \ning ideas. Seen from the standpoint of the psy- \nchologist, the line between the possible and \nthe mysterious healing influences of personality \nis fairly though not absolutely sharp. We have \nseen that every normal psychophysical state has \nthe tendency to go over into peripheral bodily \nprocesses. We have so far noticed only the pro- \ncesses in the voluntary muscles, the so-called \nactions, and we have found that there is no \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 245 \n\nspecial power involved and that no mystery need \nbe invoked, but that every idea discharges itself \nin an action provided the antagonistic ideas are \nchecked. But the motor nerves and muscular \napparatus represent only a part of the cen- \ntral and centrifugal system which can be stimu- \nlated by sensory processes. The researches of \nphysiology have fully proved that our involun- \ntary muscles and our blood-vessels, our glands \nand our internal organs, are under the influ- \nence of our central system. Our whole body in \nevery instant resounds in every part to the vari- \nations of our brain activity, and the normal \nfunctioning of our organism depends in a large \ndegree on the right work of these central stimu- \nlations. Are they absent or inhibited, some- \nthing must go wrong ; and if the central stimu- \nlus can be enforced, if the antagonistic inhibition \ncan be checked, the right tension and the normal \nfunctioning must return as necessarily and as \nnaturally as the suggested action must occur \nwhen the contradicting ideas are removed. We \nhave seen that hypnotism is nothing but a psy- \nchophysical state of increased suggestibility; \nthat is, a state in which the suggested ideas find \nless resistance than in normal life. If the hyp- \nnotized patient receives suggestions which refer \nto those physiological functions which are de- \npendent upon the central nervous system, the \nchange and the readjustment of the organic \n\n\n\n246 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nfunctions by the removal of false inhibitions and \nby the reinforcement of useful central stimula- \ntions are certainly no more obscure than the \naction of antipyrine and phenacetine. Even \nthat which may be still obscure in the action of \nthe suggestions can be only a matter of details, \nnot of principles. \n\nThere are two methods of suggestion open : \na more active and talkative way, which turns \nthe subject\'s attention to the desired point by \ndirect suggestions, and a more passive and silent \nway, which attempts a general quieting of the \nmind, in which a new balance of impulses may \nbe inaugurated, and the desire for normal func- \ntions may work itself up to increased influence. \nEvery good physician makes use of these two \nmeans to increase the effectiveness of his reme- \ndies. At the right time, they are almost a \nsubstitute for all other aid, and in the mystical \ntherapy of all periods through four thousand \nyears they have developed a high technique. \nTo-day, the passive method of indirect sugges- \ntion is the vehicle of the Christian scientists and \nmetaphysical healers ; the active way of more \ndirect suggestion belongs to the mind curers and \nmental healers. \n\nMuch of the success of both methods depends, \nof course, upon the ability of the transmitter to \nmake the suggestions effective. His personal \nappearance and way of talking, his voice and \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 247 \n\ntemperament, must be persuasive, and his reputa- \ntion and authority must reinforce the expectancy \nwhich prepares the inhibitions. Teachers and \nlawyers and ministers strengthen their influence \nby these silent servants of a dominant mind. \nMany of these personal qualities can be replaced, \nto be sure, by merely mechanical tricks which \ncan be imitated and taught. Our mystical \nschools bring this technique to external virtuos- \nity. But still more important are the antecedent \nconditions in the mind of the patient. Whoever \nhas seen the patients in the clinic of a famous \nhypnotist (half hypnotized as soon as they pass \nthe door of the hospital) knows how the fascina- \ntion of the attention by belief \xe2\x80\x94 by any belief \xe2\x80\x94 \nworks favorably for the increase of suggestibility ; \nso that the smallest additional intruder, perhaps \nthe sensation of half-darkened light, of soft \ntouch, of muscle strain in the eyes, is sufficient \nto bring about the new equilibrium of psycho- \nphysical impulses. The most vulgar and trivial \nbelief will answer ; the most absurd superstition \ncan bring success, as everything depends upon \nthe intensity of the subject\'s submission ; and \nthe more pitiable the intellectual powers of a \ncreature, the greater may be his chance of a cure \nby idiotic manipulations. To deny this in the \ninterest of science would be unscientific. \n\nThe most deep-seated form of belief is reli- \ngious faith, and there cannot be the slightest \n\n\n\n248 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\ndoubt that religious emotion, from the lowest \nf etichism to the highest protestantism, has always \nbeen fertile soil for therapeutical suggestions. \nWhat we have called the active method appeals \nto the subjective faith with direct words; the \npassive method awakens the same fascination \nindirectly, lulling to sleep the antagonistic \nimpulses by a feeling that the mind of the \ntransmitter has reached by prayer and love a \nsupernatural unity with the mind of the patient. \nWe must not forget that it is not the solemn \nvalue of the religious revelation, nor the ethical \nand metaphysical bearing of its objects, which \nbrings success, but solely the depth of the emo- \ntion. To murmur the Greek alphabet with the \ntouching intonation and gesture of supplication \nis just as strengthening for the health as the \nsublimest prayer ; and for the man who believes \nin the metaphysical cure, it may be quite unim- \nportant whether the love curer at his bedside \nthinks of the psychical Absolute or of the spring \nhat she will buy with the fee for her metaphy- \nsical healing. From the psychological point of \nview, the direct method of healing by faith and \nthe indirect method of healing by love are thus \nalmost identical ; both are confined to the nar- \nrow limits within which the nervous system \ninfluences the pathological processes ; but in \nthese limits both have some chances of a transi- \ntory success, and both are liable to the same \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 249 \n\nillusions on the part of sincere healers and to the \nsame humbug on the part of impostors. \n\n\n\nOur review has sought to examine the two \nlarge groups of facts which refer to the influ- \nence of mind on mind, and to separate in both, \nin those of active influence and in those of \npassive reception, the psychological possibilities \nfrom those claims which the psychologist at first \nrejects. There are two groups more which we \nmust sift, \xe2\x80\x94 the facts which lead to the theory \nof double consciousness, and the spiritualistic \nfacts which refer to the communication of the \nliving with the souls of the dead. In the former \ngroup there is little fault to be found with the \nfacts ; only the theory is misleading. In the \nlatter group, on the other hand, it may be diffi- \ncult to decide whether the claims for the facts \nor the attempts at theories are the more objec- \ntionable. The phenomena which suggest that a \ndeeper personality lies hidden under the experi- \nences of our surface personality are to-day gen- \nerally familiar and scientifically well studied. \nTypical of these phenomena are the interesting \nfacts of automatic writing, apart from the at- \ntempts to give them a spiritualistic interpreta- \ntion. Our hands may be brought to write \ntruths of which we are not conscious, and to \nanswer questions which we do not perceive ; and \n\n\n\n250 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nthese writings which we do not control may \nclearly belong to a special personality, with its \nown memory and its own wit and temper. Many \nsimilar facts which do not necessarily point in \nthe same direction presuppose hysterical disturb- \nances. It is true that the idea of a separated \nsubject of consciousness offers itself to a super- \nficial view as the simplest hypothesis, and the \nacceptance of this hypothesis gives a foothold \nfor the most complicated mystical theories. But \nthere are two groups of facts which we must \nkeep in mind. First, we know that all our com- \nplicated useful actions which are acquired under \nthe control of the intellectual attention, as \nwalking and eating, speaking and reading and \nwriting, become slowly automatic, yet nobody \nthinks of putting them under the care of a \ndeeper personality ; we make the right move- \nment in speaking without consciously intending \nthe special tongue and lip movements, because \nthe lower nerve centres steadily unburden the \nhigher ones, and more and more easily trans- \nform the stimulus into the useful motor dis- \ncharge. Even in the most complicated cases, \ntherefore, the unconscious production of appar- \nently chosen and adapted actions is no proof \nwhatever that the whole process was not a merely \nphysiological one. Secondly, a manifoldness of \npsychological personalities is in no way identical \nwith a plurality of subjects of consciousness. \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 251 \n\nEvery one of us finds in his consciousness a \nbundle of social personalities. We are different \nmen in the office and in the family circle, in the \npolitical meeting and in the theatre; one does \nnot care for the others, and may even ignore \nthem ; each has his own memory connection and \nhis own impulses. But they do not represent \ndifferent subjects of consciousness, different \ngroups of objects alternating in the same sub- \nject. Of course these various empirical person- \nalities have always some elements in common, \nby which we can easily bridge over from one to \nthe other, and remember our office anger in \nfront of the stage of the theatre. No change \nin principle occurs when, by an abnormal brain \nprocess, these paths of association and connec- \ntion are blocked, and one personality remains \nwithout relations with the other. In such a case \nseveral personalities alternate, each consisting of \na set of associations and impulses without remem- \nbrance of the others. The student of hypnotism \nand hysteria is familiar with such phenomena. \nThese personalities alternate in consciousness in \nthe same way that groups of ideas succeed one \nanother ; but the subject which is the bearer of \nall these personalities remains always the same, \nand the hypothesis that this subject itself \nchanges when the content of the social person- \nality changes is thus without support in the \npsychological interpretations of the normal idea \n\n\n\n252 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nof personality. The real source of these theo- \nries as to a deeper self and a double conscious- \nness lies, indeed, not in the psychological facts, \nbut in motives of a very different character. \nWe shall turn presently to these more hidden \nimpulses, as they will show us the real springs \nof mysticism ; but we must first glance at our \nfourth and last group of claims, \xe2\x80\x94 the wonders \nof spiritualism. \n\nSo long as we consider spiritualism only from \nthe point of view of its agreement with the sys- \ntem of scientific psychology, the discussion may \nbe extremely short, for one sweeping word is \nsufficient. There are no subtle discriminations \nnecessary, as in the other fields : the psycholo- \ngist rejects everything without exception. We \nhave here not the slightest relation to philo- \nsophical spiritualism, either to that of the Berke- \nleian type or to that of Fichte. We are not on \nthe height of philosophical thinking, but on the \nlow ground of observation and explanation of \nempirical facts. The question is not whether \nthe substance of the real world is spiritual ; it is \nonly whether departed spirits enter into com- \nmunication with living men by mediums and \nby incarnation. The scientist does not admit a \ncompromise : with regard to this he flatly denies \nthe possibility. Of course he does not say that \nall the claims are founded on fraud. He does \nnot deny that sincere persons have frequently \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 253 \n\nbelieved, through hallucinations, and still oftener \nthrough illusions, that they saw the apparitions \nof departed friends and heard their voices. The \npsychologist has no dearth of explanations for \nthis product of the psychophysical mechanism. \nIn the same way, he need not doubt that many \nof the mediums really believe themselves to be \nunder the control of departed souls ; for this \nalso exactly fits many well-known facts of nerv- \nous disturbance. But the facts as they are \nclaimed do not exist, and never will exist, and \nno debate makes the situation better. \n\nVI \n\nOur short survey of the wide domain of mys- \nticism is finished. We have seen what part of \nits claims can be acknowledged by psychology, \nand what must be rejected. We have seen that \nmany of those occurrences which appear mys- \nterious and uncanny to the naive mind are easily \nunderstood from a scientific point of view, and \nare often separated by an impassable chasm from \nhappenings which on the surface look quite \nsimilar. We have seen especially that hypnotism \nand hysteria, muscle reading and hyperesthesia, \nalternation of personality and the therapeutic in- \nfluence of psychophysical inhibitions, hallucina- \ntions and illusions, and other mental states which \npsychology understands just as well as it does \nthe normal associations and feelings, explain \n\n\n\n254 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nmany of the observed events, and bring them \nfrom the domain of mysticism into the sphere of \ncausally necessary processes. And yet all this \nis only a preamble for our real discussion. We \nhave given decisions, but not arguments; we \nhave shown that psychology is able to explain \nmany of the facts, but we have not shown as \nyet why we have the right to reject other so- \ncalled facts and to deny their possibility; and \neverything must at last depend upon this right \nalone. \n\nThe modern mystic, if he is ready to follow \nus thus far, would not find the slightest argu- \nment against his position in any of our preced- \ning points. He would say : " I accept your \npsychophysical explanations for the facts which \nyou acknowledge ; with regard to the others, I \nsee only that you are unable to understand them, \nbut that gives you no right to deny them. \nThere are many facts which are still puzzles for \nscience. History must make us modest, show- \ning that again and again the truth was at first \nridiculed and the deeper insight derided. These \nvery phenomena of hypnotism and automatism \nand hysteria were denied in their reality only a \nfew generations ago. Science must give every- \nthing fair play, and a refusal even to examine \nthe facts is unworthy of real science. It is nar- \nrowness and stubbornness to reject a fact be- \ncause it does not fit into the scientific system of \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 255 \n\nto-day, instead of striving toward the better sys- \ntem of to-morrow, which will have room for all \nthe phenomena ; and this the more if these facts \nare of vast importance, involving the immor- \ntality and the absolute unity of all minds, the \nspiritual harmony of the universe, and the very \ndeepest powers of man." \n\nThis is the old text, indeed, preached from so \noften, and sometimes in so brilliant and fascina- \nting a style that even the best men have lowered \nthe sword. Yet it is wrong and dangerous from \nbeginning to end, and has endlessly more harm \nin it than a superficial view reveals, as it is in \nits last consequences not only the death of real \nscience, but worse, \xe2\x80\x94 the death of real idealism. \n\nFirst a word about the so-called facts. Our \nnewspapers, magazines, and books are full to \noverflowing of the reports of happenings which \nno science can explain, and which may over- \nwhelm the uncritical mind by their sheer bulk. \nBut whoever stops to think for a moment how \nthe psychological conditions favor and almost \nenforce the weedlike growth of mysterious sto- \nries will at least agree that a live criticism must \nsift the tales, even if they are backed by the au- \nthority of a most trustworthy sailor or a most \nexcellent servant girl. If the glaring light of \ncriticism is thrown on this twilight literature, the \neffect is often surprising. Some of the " facts " \nprove to be simply untrue, having grown up \n\n\n\n256 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nthrough gossip and desire for excitement, through \nfear and curiosity, through misunderstandings \nand imagination. Another set of the " facts " \nturns out to be true, but not mysterious ; being \nmerely a checkered field of abnormal mental \nphenomena, such as hypnotism, somnambulism, \nhysteria, insanity, hy perse sthesia, automatic ac- \ntion, and so forth. Another large group is based \non conscious or unconscious fraud, from the \nmildest form down through a long scale to the \nboldest spiritualistic forgery. If we take away \nthese three large groups, there is a remainder \nwhich may deserve discussion as to its interpre- \ntation. Here belong the chance occurrences \nwhich appear alarmingly surprising if taken in \nisolation, but quite natural if considered as mem- \nbers of a long series, giving account of all the \ncases in which the surprising coincidences did \nnot occur. The recent statistics of apparitions \nand hallucinations show clearly the difficulty of \nfinding always the right basis for such calcula- \ntion of mathematical probabilities. Here belong, \nfurther, the illusions of memory, by which pre- \nsent experiments are projected into the past, or \npast experiences are transformed by present sen- \nsations; the surprising coincidences illustrated \nby recent experiments, which are produced by \nthe concordance of associations and other simi- \nlarities of mental dispositions ; and the illusions \nof perception which allow us to hear and see \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 257 \n\nwhatever we expect or whatever is suggested \nto us. \n\nIf we are ready to make full use of every \nmeans of possible explanation, there remains \nhardly an instance where it is impossible to tear \naside the veil of mystery, and to explain psy- \nchologically either the occurrences of the facts \nthemselves, or the development of the erroneous \nreport about them. Even when long series of \ncareful experiments on thought transference and \nsimilar problems were made, the cautious papers \ndiscreetly reported in most cases, not that a \nproof was furnished, but only that the evidence \nseemed to point in a certain direction. And \neven the most ardent believer in telepathy, Mr. \nPodmore, concedes that " each particular case is \nsusceptible of more or less adequate explanation \nby some well-known cause." Mr. Podmore con- \nsiders it absurd to accumulate the strained and \ncomplicated explanations which thus become ne- \ncessary, instead of accepting the simple whole- \nsale interpretation that telepathy took place. \nBut with the same right we might say that in \nan endless number of instances the lowest ani- \nmals and plants rise from inorganic substances ; \neach case taken separately could be explained by \nbiologists from procreation, but since such expla- \nnation would involve an accumulation of com- \nplicated theories about the conditions of life for \nthe lowest animals, it would be much simpler to \nbelieve in generatio equivoca. \n\n\n\n258 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nOur presupposition was that a large propor- \ntion of the claims are false. Even the cham- \npions of mysticism are to-day ready to admit that \nthe temptations and chances for deception are \ndiscouragingly numerous. Not only is there an \nabundance of money-making schemes which fit \nwell the natural credulity and suggestibility of \nthe public at large. Some lie and cheat merely \nfor art\'s sake, getting pleasure from the fact that \ntheir fiction becomes real through the belief that \nit awakes, and some do the same merely in boy- \nish trickery. Some elaborate their inventions to \nmake themselves interesting, and some feast in \nthe power they thus gain over men. Some \nbegin by consciously embellishing the slender \nfacts, and end with a sincere belief in their own \nsuperstructure ; and others, through hysterical \nexcitement, are unaware of their own cheating. \nAdd to these causes the incorrectness with which \nmost men observe and report on matters in \nwhich their feelings are interested, and the mis- \nerable lack of the feeling of responsibility with \nwhich average men and average papers put forth \ntheir wild tales. Consider how again and again \nthe honored leaders of mystical movements have \nbeen unmasked as cheap impostors and their \nadmired wonders recognized as vulgar tricks, \nhow telepathic performances have been reduced \nto a simple signaling by breathing or noises, \nand how seldom disbelievers have interrupted a \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 259 \n\nmaterialization seance without putting their hands \non a provision of beards and draperies. Think \nof all this, and the supposed facts dwindle more \nand more. \n\nAt this point of the discussion the friends of \nmysticism like to go over to a more personal \nattack. They say, " How do you dare to pre- \nsuppose credulity and suggestibility in the ob- \nserver, and intended or unintended tricks and \ndishonesty in the performer, when you have \nnever taken part in such experiments, and when \nsome brilliant scholars have examined them and \nfound no fraud ? " To such personal reproach \nI answer with personal facts. It is true I have \nnever taken part in a telepathic experiment or in \na spiritualistic seance. It is not a nervous dis- \nlike of abnormalities which has kept me away, \nas I have devoted much time to the study of \nhypnotism and insanity. The experiences of \nsome of my friends, however, made me cautious \nfrom the beginning ; they had spent much \nenergy and time and money on such mysteries, \nand had come to the conviction that all was \nhumbug. Once, I confess, I wavered in my \ndecision. In Europe I received a telegram from \ntwo famous telepathists asking me to come \nimmediately to a small town where they had dis- \ncovered a medium of extraordinary powers. It \nrequired fifteen hours\' traveling, and I hesitated ; \nbut the report was so inspiring that I finally \n\n\n\n260 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\npacked my trunks. Just then came a second \nmessage with the laconic words, " All fraud." \nSince that time I do not take the trouble to \npack. I wait quietly for the second message. \n\nWhy do I avoid these seances ? It is not \nbecause I am afraid that they would shake my \ntheoretical views and convince me of mysticism, \nbut because I consider it undignified to visit \nsuch performances, as one attends a variety \nshow, for amusement only, without attempting \nto explain them, and because I know that I \nshould be the last man to see through the \nscheme and discover the trick. I should cer- \ntainly have been deceived by Madame Blavatsky, \nthe theosophist, and by Miss Paladino, the me- \ndium. I am only a psychologist, not a detective. \nMore than that, by my whole training I am ab- \nsolutely spoiled for the business of the detective. \nThe names of great scientists, like Zoellner, \nBichet, Crookes, and many others, do not im- \npose on me in the least ; for their daily work in \nscientific laboratories was a continuous training \nof an instinctive confidence in the honesty of \ntheir cooperators. I do not know another pro- \nfession in which the suspicion of possible fraud \nbecomes so systematically inhibited as it does in \nthat of the scientist. He ought to be at once \ndismissed from the jury, and a prestidigitator \nsubstituted. Whether I personally take part in \nsuch meetings or not is, therefore, without any \n\n\n\n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 261 \n\nconsequences; I take it for granted from the \nstart that wherever there was fraud in the play, \nI should have been cheated like my brethren. \nThe only thing that the other side can reason- \nably demand from us is that we be fully ac- \nquainted with their claims and with the evidence \nthey furnish in their writings. I confess I have \nnot had quite a good conscience in this respect ; \nI had not really studied all the recorded Phan- \ntasms of the Living and all the Proceedings of \nthe Societies for Psychical Kesearch, and I am \nafraid I had forgotten to cut the leaves of some of \nthe occult magazines on my own shelves. Now, \nhowever, my conscience is fully disburdened. I \nused \xe2\x80\x94 or ought I to say, misused ? \xe2\x80\x94 my last \nsummer vacation in working through more than \na hundred volumes of the so-called evidence. I \npassed through a whole series of feelings. In- \ndeed, I had at first a feeling of mysterious \nexcitement from all those uncanny stories, but \nthat changed into a deep sesthetical and ethical \ndisgust, which flattened finally into the feeling \nthat there was about me an endless desert of \nabsolute stupidity. I, for one, am to-day far \nmore skeptical than before I was driven to ex- \namine the evidence ; I have studied the proofs, \nand now feel sure of what before I only sus- \npected, \xe2\x80\x94 that they do not prove anything ; and \nif we condemn science on such testimony, we do \nworse than those who condemned the witches and \n\n\n\n262 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nvampires. In short, I believe that the facts, if \nthey are examined critically, are never incapable \nof a scientific explanation ; and yet even this is \nnot the central point of the question. I must \ndeny that the battle is waged over the facts \n-which science understands and those which it \ndoes not understand. \n\nVII \n\nNo scientist in the world feels uncomfortable \nover the confession that there are many \xe2\x80\x94 end- \nlessly many \xe2\x80\x94 things in the world which we do \nnot know; no sane man dreams that the last \nday of scientific progress has yet come, and that \nevery problem has been solved. On the con- \ntrary, the springs of scientific enthusiasm lie in \nthe conviction that we stand only at the beginning \nof knowledge, and that every day may unveil \nnew elements of the universe. Even physio- \nlogical psychology, which seems so conceited in \nthe face of mysticism, admits how meagre is the \nknowledge it has so far gleaned. Almost every \nimportant question of our science is still un- \nsettled, and yet that has never discouraged us in \nour work. The physicist and the astronomer, \nthe chemist and the botanist, the physiologist \nand the psychologist, work steadily, with the \nconviction that there are many facts which they \ndo not know, like the Roentgen rays ten years \nago, and that many facts are not fully under- \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 263 \n\nstood, like the Koentgen rays at present. If the \nmystical facts were merely processes which we do \nnot understand to-day, but which we may under- \nstand to-morrow, there would not be the slightest \noccasion for a serious dispute. But the situa- \ntion is very different. The antithesis is not \nbetween the facts we can explain and the facts \nwe cannot explain, and for which we seek an \nexplanation of the same order. No; it is be- \ntween the facts which are now explicable by \ncausal laws, or may be so in any possible future, \nand those facts which are acknowledged as in \nprinciple outside of the necessary causal connec- \ntions, and bound together by their values for \nour personal feelings instead of by mechanical \nlaws. As Professor James puts it excellently : \nIt is the difference between the personal emo- \ntional and the impersonal mechanical thinking, \nbetween the romantic and the rationalistic views \nof the world. Here lies the root of the problem, \nand here centres our whole interest. Indeed, all \nthat is claimed by the mystic as such means, not \nthat the causal connections of the world found \nso far are still incomplete and must be supple- \nmented by others, but that the blanks in the \ncausal connections allow us glimpses of another \nworld behind, \xe2\x80\x94 an uncausal emotional world \nwhich shines through the vulgar world of me- \nchanics. \n\nIf the astronomer calculated the movement of \n\n\n\n264 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\na star from the causally working forces, lie might \ncome to the hypothesis that there are centres of \nattraction existing which we have not yet discov- \nered : it was thus Leverrier discovered Neptune. \nBut his boldest theories operate only with quan- \ntities of the same order, with substances and \nforces which come under the categories of the \nmechanical world. If, on the other hand, he \nconsidered some emotional view, perhaps the \naesthetical one that the star followed this curve \nbecause it is more beautiful, as indeed an older \nastronomy did; or the ethical one that this \nmovement of the star occurred because it served \nto make the moral progress of men possible, \nwhile the causal movement would have thrown \nthe earth into the sun; or the religious one \nthat the angels chose to pull the star this way \nrather than that ; or the poetical one that the \nstar was obliged to move just so in order to \ndelight the heart on a clear evening by its spar- \nkling, \xe2\x80\x94 in none of these cases would he be \ndoubtful whether his hypothesis were good or \nbad ; he would be sure that it was not an astro- \nnomical hypothesis at all. He would not search \nwith the telescope to find out whether or not his \ntheory was confirmed by new facts. No; he \nwould see that his thought denied the possibility \nof astronomy, and was a silly profanation of \nethics and religion at the same time. \n\nThe naturalist knows, if he understands the \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 265 \n\nphilosophical basis of his work, and is not merely \na technical craftsman, that natural science means, \nnot a simple cast and copy of the reality, but a \nspecial transformation of reality, a conceptual \nconstruction of unreal character in the service of \nspecial logical purposes. The naturalist does \nnot think that bodies are in reality made from \natoms, and that the movements of the stars are \nreally the products of all the elementary im- \npulses into which his calculation disintegrates \nthe causes. He knows that all his elements, the \nelementary substances and the elementary forces, \nare merely conceptions worked out for the pur- \npose of representing the world as a causally \nconnected mechanism. The real world is no \nmechanism, but a world of means and aims, \nobjects of our will and of our personal purposes. \nBut one of these purposes is to conceive the \nworld as a mechanism, and so long as we work \nin the service of this purpose we presuppose that \nthe world is a mechanism. In the effort to re- \npresent the world as a causal one \xe2\x80\x94 that is, in \nour character as naturalists \xe2\x80\x94 we know only a \ncausal world, and no other. We may know \nlittle about that postulated causal world, but we \nare sure beforehand that whatever the future \nmay discover about it must belong to the causal \nsystem, or it is wrong. We are free to choose \nthe point of view, but when we have chosen it \nwe are bound by its presuppositions. A natu- \n\n\n\n266 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nralist who begins to doubt whether the world is \neverywhere causal misunderstands his own aim \nand gives up his only end. \n\nThese simple facts from the methodology of \nscience repeat themselves exactly, though in a \nmore complicated form, for psychology. Psy- \nchology, also, is never a mere copy of the \nreality, but always a transformation in the ser- \nvice of a special logical purpose. Our real \ninner life is not a complex of elementary sensa- \ntions, as psychology may see it : it is a system of \nattitudes of will, which we do not perceive as \ncontents of consciousness, but which we live \nthrough, and objects of will which are our \nmeans and ends and values. It becomes a \nspecial interest of the logical attitude of the will \nto transform this real will system in conceptual \nform into a causal system, too, and, in the ser- \nvice of this end, to put in the place of the \nteleological reality a mechanical artificial con- \nstruction. This construction is psychology, and \nit is thus clear that in the psychological system \nitself every view which is not causal is contra- \ndictory to the presuppositions, and therefore \nscientifically untrue. Between the mental facts, \nin so far as they are considered as psychological \nphenomena, there exists no other possible con- \nnection than the causal one, though, to be sure, \nthis causal view has not the slightest meaning \nfor the inner reality, which never consists of \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 267 \n\npsychological phenomena. This is the point \nwhich even philosophers so easily overlook : as \nsoon as we speak of psychical objects, of ideas \nand feelings and volitions, as contents of con- \nsciousness, we speak of an artificial transforma- \ntion to which the categories of real life no longer \napply, \xe2\x80\x94 a transformation which lies in the \ndirection of causal connection, and which has, \ntherefore, a right to existence only if the right \nto extend the causal aspect of nature to the inner \nlife is acknowledged. The personal, the emo- \ntional, the romantic, in short the will-view, con- \ntrols our real life, but from that standpoint \nmental life is never a psychical fact. \n\nIt is one of the greatest dangers of our time \nthat the naturalistic point of view, which decom- \nposes the world into elements for the purpose of \ncausal connection, interferes with the volitional \npoint of view of the real life, which can deal \nonly with values, and not with elements. I \nhave sought again and again to point out this \nunfortunate situation, and to show that history \nand practical life, education and art, morality \nand religion, have nothing to do with these psy- \nchological constructions, and that the categories \nof psychology must not intrude into their teleo- \nlogical realms. But that does not blind me to \nthe fact that exactly the opposite transgression \nof boundaries is going on all the time, too. If \nthe world of values is intruded into the causal \n\n\n\n268 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nworld, if the categories which belong to reality- \nare forced on the system of transformation which \nwas framed in the service of causality, we get a \ncheap mixture which satisfies neither the one \naim nor the other. Just this is the effort of \nmysticism. It is the personal, emotional view \napplied, not to the world of reality, where it fits, \nbut to the physical and psychical worlds, both \nof which are constructed by the human logical \nwill for the purpose of an impersonal, unemo- \ntional causal system. But to mix values with \nlaws destroys not only the causal links, but also \nthe values. The ideals of ethics and religion, \ninstead of growing in the world of volitional \nrelations, are now projected into the atomistic \nstructure, and thus become dependent upon its \nnature. Intended to fill there the blanks in the \ncausal system, they find their right of existence \nonly where ignorance of nature leaves such \nblanks, and must tremble at every step of pro- \ngress science makes. It is bad enough when \nthe psychological categories are wrongly pushed \ninto ethics by the over-extension of psychology, \nbut it is still more absurd when ethics leaves its \nhome in the real world and creeps over to the \nfield of psychology, satisfied with the few places \nto which science has not yet acquired a clear \ntitle. Our ethics and religion may thus be \nshaken to-morrow by any new result of labora- \ntory research, and must be supported to-day by \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 269 \n\nthe telepathic performances of hysteric women. \nOur belief in immortality must rest on the gos- \nsip which departed spirits utter in dark rooms \nthrough the mouths of hypnotized business medi- \nums, and our deepest personality comes to light \nwhen we scribble disconnected phrases in auto- \nmatic writing. Is life then really still worth \nliving ? \n\nVIII \n\nWe must here throw more light on some \ndetails which may be difficult to understand. \nWe have said that the claims of mysticism im- \npose the emotional teleological categories upon \nthe psychological facts ; that is, upon construc- \ntions which are formed for the purpose of the \nmechanical categories only. It may not be at \nonce evident how this is true for special propo- \nsitions of a mystical nature. Of course we can- \nnot develop here the presuppositions of psycho- \nlogy ; a few words to show the nature of the \nproblems must be sufficient. Psychology tries \nto consider the mental life as a system of per- \nceivable objects which are necessarily determined ; \nevery transformation which is serviceable for this \npurpose is psychologically true. If the mental \nfacts are thought as determining one another, \nwe must presuppose that they have characteris- \ntics to which this effective influence attaches. \nThese characteristics are called their elements, \n\n\n\n270 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nand therefore, for psychologists, the mental life \nconsists of elements. The psychical material is \ndifferent from the physical by the presupposition \nthat it exists for one subject only. It is there- \nfore not communicable ; since incommunicable, \nit is not determinable by communicable units, \nand hence is not measurable, \xe2\x80\x94 not quantitative, \nbut only qualitative. Consequently, it is incapa- \nble of entering into a mathematical equation, and \nis unfit to play the role of determinable causes \nand effects. Before psychical elements can be \ntransformed into a system of causes and effects \na further transformation must be made ; they \nmust be thought as amalgamated with physical \nprocesses which exist for many, and which are \nmeasurable, and therefore capable of forming a \nnecessary causal system. The psychical facts \nare thus thought of as accompaniments of physi- \ncal processes, and in their appearance and disap- \npearance fully determined by the physical events. \nThere is no materialistic harm in this doctrine, \nas it aims at no reference to reality, but is merely \na construction for a special purpose ; within its \nsphere, however, there cannot be any exception. \nIf the psychical facts are thought of as accom- \npaniments of the physical processes, they must be \nprojected into the physical world, and must \naccept its forms of existence, space and time. \nThe real inner life in its teleological reality is \nspaceless and timeless, \xe2\x80\x94 it knows space and \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 271 \n\ntime only as forms of its objects ; the psycholo- \ngical phenomena themselves enter into space and \ntime as soon as they are connected with the \nphysical phenomena. They are now psycho- \nphysical elements which can determine one an- \nother only by the causal relations of the physical \nsubstratum. The working hypothesis of modern \npsychology \xe2\x80\x94 that every mental state is a com- \nplex of psychical elements, of which each is the \naccompaniment of a physical process in time and \nspace, and influences others or is influenced by \nothers merely through the medium of physical \nprocesses \xe2\x80\x94 is then not an arbitrary theory. It \nis the necessary outcome of the presuppositions \nwhich the human will has freely chosen for its \nlogical purposes, and to which it is bound by its \nown decision. \n\nFrom this point a full light of explanation \nfalls upon all our earlier decisions. We rejected \nevery claimed fact in which the psychological \nfacts were without a physical substratum, as in \nthe case of departed spirits and those in which \npsychical facts influenced one another without \nphysical intermediation, as in telepathy. If \nmental life is taken in its reality, it must not be \nconsidered as composed of elements, ideas, and \nfeelings, but must be taken as a whole ; then it \nis not in bodily personalities, not in space and \nnot in time, \xe2\x80\x94 in short, is not a psychological \nfact at all. But if we take it as psychological \n\n\n\n272 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nfact in human bodies and in time, it must be \nthought of in accordance with the psychological \npresuppositions, as bound to the physical events, \ncommunicated by their intermediation and disap- \npearing at their destruction. Where these con- \nditions are in part wanting, psychology declines \nto accept the propositions as truths, and de- \nmands a further transformation of the facts till \nthe demands of psychology are satisfied. Mysti- \ncism, however, prefers an easier way. Where- \never the conditions of psychological truth are \nabsent, and, owing to the lack of physical sub- \nstrata or of physical mediation, the psychical facts \nare disconnected or unexplained in their exist- \nence, there mysticism imports the teleological \nlinks of the prepsychological real world, and \ngives the illusion that the psychical facts have \nbeen thus explained and connected. \n\nPerhaps most instructive in this respect are \nthose claims of mysticism which refer to the \nhealing influences of men, because here it ap- \npears most clearly that it is not the facts, but \nonly the points of view, which constitute the \nmysticism. The facts from which these claims \narise the psychologist does not deny at all ; as \nwe have seen, he takes them for granted. But \nhe explains them by suggestion and other famil- \niar laws of mental action, and thus links the \npsychical phenomena by an uninterrupted chain \nof physical processes. The mystic, on the other \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 273 \n\nhand, brings the same facts under the categories \nwhich belong to the world of values : prayer has \nnow a healing influence, not because it is per- \nceived by the senses of the patient, and works \nthrough association some inhibitory changes in \nhis brain, but because prayer is ethically and \nreligiously valuable. Not its physiological ac- \ncompaniments which produce psychophysical \neffects, but its goodness and piety secure success, \nand, conversely, the illness which is cured by \nthe prayer must be a symptom of moral and \nreligious obliquity. The causal conception of a \ndisturbance of physiological functions is thus \ntransmuted into the ethical conception of sin. \nExactly the same psychophysical facts, the \nprayer of the transmitter and the feeling of \nimprovement in the receiver, are in this case, \nthen, connected by the mystic and the scientist \nin different ways, without any need on either \nside of a further transformation of the facts. \nFor the one, it is the causal process that a sug- \ngestion psychophysical^ overpower nervous inhi- \nbition ; for the other, it is the victory of saint- \nhood over sin, by its religious values. If the \nscientist maintains that only the first is an \nexplanatory connection, the second not, does he \nmean by this that goodness has no power over \nevil ? Certainly not ; he means something very \ndifferent. Goodness and evil, he thinks, are \nrelations and attitudes of will, which have their \n\n\n\n274 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nreality in being willed and lived through. They \nare not psychophysical facts, to be perceived as \ntaking time, and going on in space in a special \nbrain and nervous system. They belong to the \nworld of willing subjects, not to the world of \natomistic objects ; they are primary, while sug- \ngestions and inhibitions and all the other psycho- \nphysical objects are unreal derived constructions. \nIf prayer and sin are taken in their reality as we \nlive through them, then of course their meaning \nand their value alone are in question, and it \nwould be absurd to apply to them the relations \nof causal connection. As realities, they are not \nbrain processes; as such, they do not come in \nquestion as processes in time and space ; as such, \nthey are not transmuted into mere objects. If \nwe take them in their reality as will-attitudes, \nthey have no relation to causality. If we take \nthem as psychological processes which go on in \ntime in physical personalities, then we have \ntransformed them in the service of causality, and \nhave pledged ourselves to the causal system. \nAn ethical connection of psychophysical facts is \na direct inner contradiction ; it means applying \nthe categories of will to objects which we have \ntaken away from the will for the single purpose \nof putting them into a system of will-less cate- \ngories. We might just as well demand that the \nfigures of a painting should talk and move \nabout. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 275 \n\nIX \n\nAnother case in which scientists and mystics \nagree in regard to the facts is that of double \npersonality. The difference here, also, is only \none of interpretation. We have seen that the \npsychologist understands this class of facts as \nvarious degrees of disaggregation of psychophy- \nsical elements, whereas the mystic introduces the \nethical categories of different responsibility and \ndignity. It is otherwise with the telepathic or \nspiritualistic claims : here there is no agreement \nabout the facts, and yet the principle is the \nsame as in the other cases. The mystic applies \nthe emotional personal links in this case, also, \nnot to the reality, but to psychological facts in a \nstage of transformation which the psychologist \ndoes not accept because they do not allow causal \nconnection. The psychologist calls the claimed \nfacts untrue, because the transformation of real- \nity is psychologically or physically true only \nwhen it has reached that form in which it fits \ninto the causal system. It is the aim of science \nto find the true facts, \xe2\x80\x94 that is, to transform \nreality till the ends of causal ordering are at- \ntained ; and if they are not attained, the objects \nhave not become a part of the existing psycho- \nlogical or physical world. An infinite number \nof facts appear to us in disconnected form, but \nwe ignore them; they remain only propositions; \n\n\n\n276 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nthey have not existence, because they do not \nfulfill the conditions upon which, according to \nthe decision of the will which produces science, \npsychical or physical existence depends. That a \nfact is true in the world of psychical facts means \nthat it is selected as fit for a special logical \npurpose ; and if the telepathic facts, for instance, \nare not suited to that purpose, they are not true \naccording to the only consistent standard of \ntruth. They must become somehow otherwise ; \nthat is, they must be transformed until they can \nbe accepted as existing. The history of science \nconstantly demonstrates this necessity. It is \nabsurd for the mystics to claim the backing of \nhistory because it shows that many things are \nacknowledged as true to-day which were not \nbelieved in earlier times. The teaching of his- \ntory, on the contrary, annihilates almost cruelly \nevery claim of mysticism, as, far from a later \napproval of mystical wisdom, history has in \nevery case remoulded the facts till they have \nbecome causal ones. If the scientists of earlier \ntimes disbelieved in phenomena as products of \nwitchcraft, and believe to-day in the same phe- \nnomena as products of hypnotic suggestion and \nhysteria, the mystics are not victorious, but \ndefeated. As long as the ethical category of \nSatanic influence was applied to the appearances \nthey were not true ; as soon as they were brought \nunder the causal categories they were accepted \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 277 \n\nas true, but they were then no longer mystical, \xe2\x80\x94 \nit was not witchcraft any more. \n\nThis process of transformation goes on stead- \nily ; millions of propositions which life suggests \nremain untrue till they are adjusted. Just this \nwould be the fate of the telepathic propositions: \nthey would remain below the threshold of the \nworld of empirical facts, if a mistaken emotional \nattitude did not awaken the illusion that there \nexists here a connection capable of satisfying the \ndemand for explanation. The personal impor- \ntance then links what ought to be linked by \nimpersonal causality. A feeling of depression \nin the psychophysical organism and the death of \na friend a thousand miles distant have for us no \ncausal connection, but an emotional one. The \ntwo events have no relation in the sphere of \nobjects ; they are connected only in the sphere \nof will-acts ; and the link is not the goodness, \nas in the case of healing by prayer, but the \nemotional importance of the death for the \nfriend\'s feeling attitude. By this will-connec- \ntion the two phenomena are selected and linked \ntogether, and offer themselves as one fact, while \nwithout that emotional unity they would remain \ndisconnected, and therefore in this combination \nthey would not be accepted in the sphere of \nempirical facts. \n\nDoes the scientist maintain, in his opposition \nto telepathy, that in reality mental communica- \n\n\n\n278 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\ntion between subjects is possible only by physi- \ncal intermediation? Decidedly not. If I talk \nwith others whom I wish to convince, there is \nno physical process in question ; mind reaches \nmind, thought reaches thought ; but in this \naspect thoughts are not psychophysical pheno- \nmena in space and time, but attitudes and propo- \nsitions in the sphere of the will. If we take our \nmental life in its felt reality, then the emotional \nconviction that no physical wall intervenes be- \ntween mind and mind is the only correct one ; \nit would be even meaningless to look for physi- \ncal connection. But if we transform the reality \ninto psychological objects in time and in bodies, \nthen we are bound by the aim of the transfor- \nmation, and we can acknowledge their connec- \ntion as true only if it is a mechanical one. \n\nFinally, the ethical demand for immortality, \nwhen applied to the artificial construction of \npsychology instead of to the real life, brings out \nthe most repulsive claim of mysticism, \xe2\x80\x94 spirit- \nualism. The ethical belief in immortality means \nthat we as subjects of will are immortal; that \nis, that we are not reached by death. For the \nphilosophical mind which sees the difference \nbetween reality and psychological transforma- \ntion, immortality is certain ; for him, the denial \nof immortality would be even quite meaningless. \nDeath is a biological phenomenon in the world \nof objects in time ; how then can death reach a \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 279 \n\nreality which is not an object, but an attitude, \nand therefore neither in time nor in space? Our \nreal inner subjective life has its felt validity, not \nin time, but beyond time ; it is eternal. We \nhave seen why the purpose of psychology de- \nmands that this non-local and non-temporal sub- \njectivity shall be transformed into a psychical \nobject, and as such projected into the space- and \ntime - filling organism. By that demand the \nmental life itself becomes a process in time; and \nif the ethical demand for immortality is now \ntransplanted into this circle of constructed phe- \nnomena, there must result a clash between \npsychology and human emotion. Conceiving \nmental life as a process in time was done merely \nfor the purpose of representing it as the accom- \npaniment of physical phenomena, and now to \ndemand that it should go on in time after the \ndestruction of this physical substratum is absurd. \nIn so far as we conceive mental life as an artificial \npsychological process in time, in so far we think \nof it only as part of a psychophysical phenome- \nnon, and thus never without a body, disappearing \nwhen the body ceases to function. To the \nethical idealist this impossibility of the psycho- \nlogical immortality is a revelation; for such \npseudo- immortality could satisfy only the low \nand vulgar instincts of man, and not his eth- \nical feelings. Only to a cheap curiosity can it \nappear desirable that the inner life viewed as a \n\n\n\n280 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\nseries of psychological facts shall go on and \non, that we may be able to see what is to hap- \npen in a thousand or in a million years. Life \nseen from a psychological point of view as a \nmere chain of psychological phenomena is utterly \nworthless. It would be intolerable for seventy \nyears ; who would desire it for seventy million \nyears? Multiplication by zero always leads \nback to naught. And even if we perceive all \nthe facts of the universe for all time to come, is \nthat of any value? We should shiver at the \nthought of knowing all that is printed in one \nyear, or all that men of a single town feel pass- \ning through their minds; how intolerable the \nthought of knowing even all that is and that \nwill be ! It is like the thought of endlessness in \nspace : if we were to grow endlessly tall, so that \nwe became large like the universe, reaching with \nour arms to the stars, physically almighty, would \nour lif e be more worth living, would it be better \nor nobler or more beautiful ? No ; extension in \nspace and time has not the slightest ethical \nvalue, for it necessarily refers only to those \nobjects which exist in space or time, and all our \nreal values lie beyond it. The mortality of the \npsychological phenomena and the immortality of \nour real inner life belong necessarily together, \nand the claim that the deceased spirits go on \nwith psychological existence is therefore not \nonly a denial of the purposes for which the idea \n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM 281 \n\nof psychological existence is constructed, but \nalso a violation of the ethical belief in immor- \ntality. \n\nHere, then, as everywhere, mysticism means \nnothing else than the attempt to force the \nemotional categories on an unreal construction, \nwhose only presupposition was that it had to be \nconstructed as an unemotional objective mech- \nanism. The result is a miserable changeling, \nwhich satisfies neither the one side nor the \nother. If mysticism is not contented with the \nchildish or hysteric pleasure of throwing obsta- \ncles in the way of advancing science, it can \nhave, indeed, little satisfaction from its own \ncrippled products. Thousands and thousands \nof spirits have appeared; the ghosts of the \ngreatest men have said their say, and yet the \nsubstance of it has been always the absurdest \nsilliness. Not one inspiring thought has yet \nbeen transmitted by this mystical way ; only the \nmost vulgar trivialities. It has never helped to \nfind the truth ; it has never brought forth any- \nthing but nervous fear and superstition. \n\nWe have the truth of life. Its realities are \nsubjective acts, linked together by the categories \nof personality, giving us values and ideals, har- \nmony and unity and immortality. But we have, \nas one of the duties of life, the search for the \ntruth of science which transforms reality in \norder to construct an impersonal system, and \n\n\n\n282 PSYCHOLOGY AND MYSTICISM \n\ngives us causal explanation and order. If we \nforce the system of science upon the real life, \nclaiming that our life is really a psychophysical \nphenomenon, we are under the illusion of psy- \nchologism. If, on the other hand, we force the \nviews of the real life, the personal categories, \nupon the scientific psychophysical phenomena, \nwe are under the illusion of mysticism. The \nresult in both cases is the same. We lose the \ntruth of life and the truth of science. The real \nworld loses its values, and the scientific world \nloses its order; they flow together in a new \nworld controlled by inanity and trickery, unwor- \nthy of our scientific interests and unfit for our \nethical ideals. \n\n\n\nINDEX \n\n\n\nINDEX \n\n\n\nAbnormal mental life, 107, 119, \n\n134. \nAction theory, 93-99. \n^Esthetic creation, 154-157. \n^Esthetic enjoyment, 158-162. \n^Esthetic prescriptions, 163-169. \nAnalysis, 44. \n\nApperception theory, S8-92. \nAppreciation, 24. \nArt, 145-178, 202-204. \nAssociation theory, 88. \nAtoms, 20, 265. \nAxioms, 57. \n\nBeanty, 174, 201. \nBiography, 216. \nBiology, 72. \nBody, 62. \nBrain, 35-99. \n\nCausality, 218-222. \nCausal laws, 8, 71, 263. \nCentral organ, 74. \nCentrifugal impulses, 92. \nChild psychology, 106-121. \nChristian science, 246, 272. \nCivilization, 77, 217. \nCommunication, 44-49. \nConsciousness, 4, 46, 84. \nConservation of energy, 71. \n\nDarwinism, 74-78. \n\nDescription, 44-53, 191-194. \n\nDevelopment, 73-81. \n\nDivision of labor, 77. \n\nDouble consciousness, 249-252. \n\nDrawing teachers, 147, 163-169, \n\n177. \nDuty, 172-178, 199, 227. \n\nEducation, 100-144, 163-169. \n\n\n\nEducational theories, 135-143, \n\n166, 167. \nElements, 51, 269. \nEmotion, 51. \n\nEmotional thinking, 263-282. \nEthical action, 79. \nEthical laws, 11. \nExistence, 24, 28, 196. \nExistential judgment, 188-191. \nExpectation, 29. \n\nExperimental aesthetics, 157-162. \nExperimental psychology, 123- \n\n125, 162. \nExplanation, 53-67, 191-194. \n\nFreedom, 7, 221. \n\nGanglion cells, 83. \nGod, 28. \n\nHistory, 9, 16, 26, 179-228. \nHypnotism, 239-249. \n\nIdeals, 17, 268. \n\nIdeas, 50. \n\nIdiographic sciences, 185. \n\nImmortality, 90, 278. \n\nInhibition, 95. \n\nInnervation feelings, 84, 95. \n\nInstruction in psychology, 103- \n\n105. \nIntensity, 85. \n\nJudgment, 51. \n\nLaboratory experiments, 158-162. \nLaws, 8, 56, 185-191, 214. \nLife, 23. \nLogical thinking, 22. \n\n! Materialism, 13, 20. \n\n\n\n286 \n\n\n\nINDEX \n\n\n\nMetaphysics, 28, 200. \nMethods of teaching, 129. \nMind cure, 240, 272. \nMotor centres, 92. \nMuscle reading 1 , 236. \nMuscle sensations, 97. \nMysticism, 229-282. \n\nNaturalism, 1-4, 181. \nNatural sciences, 187-191. \nNecessity, 57. \nNomothetic sciences, 185. \nNormative sciences, 27, 172-178, \n181, 225-228. \n\nObjects, 24, 171, 200. \nOver-individual will acts, 27, 172- \n\n178. \nOverman, 77. \n\nPaidology, 108-111. \n\nPersonality, 4-9, 130, 131, 198, \n\n209-217. \nPhilosophy of history, 215. \nPhysical objects, 30, 39. \nPhysiological psychology, 35-99, \n\n125-127. \nPoetry, 148-151. \nPrimitivistic art, 168. \nPsycho-educational laboratories, \n\n141. \nPsychological objects, 31, 267. \nPsychologism, 20. \nPsychophysical parallelism, 42, 64. \n\nQuality, 85. \nQuantity, 58. \n\n\n\nRational psychology, 133. \nReactions, 75. \n\nReality, 22-31, 198-200, 265. \nResponsibility, 8. \n\nSelf-observation, 37, 45, 124. \nSensations, 31, 51, 85, 98. \nSkepticism, 17, 227. \nSocial psychology, 26, 154, 155. \nSoul, 72. \nSpace, 54, 270. \nSpiritualism, 278-281. \nStructure of the brain, 81-96. \nSubjects, 24. \nSubstitution, 32, 53. \nSuggestion, 239-249. \nSymmetry, 160, 161. \n\nTeachers, 116, 120, 129, 147, 163- \n\n169. \nTeleological connection, 59, 211, \n\n224. \nTelep\'athy, 236, 243, 275-278. \nTherapeutical influences, 244-249, \n\n272, 273. \nTime, 14, 270, 279. \nTools, 77. \nTransformation of reality, 22, 39. \n\n98. \nTransmission theory, 90. \nTruth, 17, 98. \n\nValues of sensations, 87. \nVividness, 86-98. \nVolition, 51. \n\nWill, 23-28, 30, 172-174, 208-217. \n\n\n\n-4 \n\n\n\n^V \n\n\n\n-10? \n\n\n\nRD19 .* \n\n\n\nELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED \nBY H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO. \n\nCAMBRIDGE. MASS.. U. S. A. \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\nU llllllllllll \n\n\n\nI \n\n\n\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS \n\n\n\n020 994 633 6 \n\n\n\n'