" /• Rudimentary Psychology SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES G. M. STEELE, LL.D., PRINCIPAL OF WESLEYAN ACADEMY, WILBRAHAM, MASS. LEACH, SHEWELL, & SANBORN, BOSTON AND NEW YORK. PREFACE. HHHIS WORK is designed for students in academies, high schools, and collegiate institutions. The writer, during many years' experience as a teacher in a seminary in which Psychology has been one of his principal branches, has found no suitable text-book, though he has sought it diligently, and has examined many volumes. The experience of other instructors, as reported to him, is the same. Whatever faults may exist in this presentation — and it would be strange if there were not some — it is, at least, very nearly what the writer would desire for his own classes. It is what its title designates it, Rudimentary Psy- chology. There is very little effort at original discussion or speculation. It is an attempt to present in a clear and easily apprehensible form, with due regard both to scien- tific requirements and to the consensus of the best and most recent authorities, the main facts of Psychology. The more abstruse parts of the study have been omitted. Unnecessary technical terms, and such as are difficult to understand, have been avoided, and simple language has been used wherever it did not involve too much circum- vi PREFACE. locution. At the same time there is no affected juvenility of expression. The writer has drawn freely upon the best authorities, but he has written very little which has not been through the crucible of his own mind. Among the authors made use of, Dr. Hopkins is the most prominent, and his views have been largely, but not wholly, adopted. Dr. Porter, Dr. Hickok, Sir William Hamilton, Reid, Stewart, Flem- ing, McCosh, and many minor writers have been freely consulted. In the arrangement of topics the logical method has not been wholly followed, but rather the order in which the different phenomena present themselves to the mind. There are some faculties and powers of the soul upon which others are conditioned, and which, for that reason, might seem to demand prior consideration, but which are more subtle and abstruse, and less easily understood, than the others, and therefore were better deferred for later explanation and elucidation. Concrete illustrations have been used so far as the limits of the work would permit, as the writer has learned by experience that abstract science without such instances is, to young stu- dents at least, of little value. The work is intended for a one-term study, with daily recitations. This will afford ample opportunity for special instruction, and for amplification on particular points. A knowledge of one's self is of the first importance from the beginning to the end of education ; and a knowl- edge of one's self is essentially a knowledge of the powers PREFACE. vii and operations of the soul. That even a high school or academic education should conclude without a certain degree of such knowledge, would be a misfortune. At present our schools are seriously lacking in facilities for this study. Whether this attempt to increase these facili- ties will be successful, is yet to be determined. The author desires to acknowledge his indebtedness to Miss Louise M. Hodgkins, professor of English literature in Wellesley College, for the examination of manuscript, and to Professor Benjamin Gill, of Wesleyan Academy, for reading the proof-sheets, and to both for valuable suggestions. GEO. M. STEELE. WlLBRAHAM, MASS., January, 1890. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. PAGE Psychology defined. — Psychology a Science. — Meaning of Science. — Distinguished from Philosophy. — Phenomena to be studied first. — Meaning of Phenomena. — Classification. — Psychical Phenomena observed by the Inner-Sense. — Materialism; its Main Arguments. — Counter Arguments. —As much known about the Soul as about the Body. — The Two Sets of Phenomena radically Different. — The Soul distinguishes itself from Matter. — Laws of Matter and of Mind Incompatible. — The Soul Self-active. — Why we seem to know more about Matter than Mind. — Relation of the Soul to the Body. — Law of Conditioning and Conditioned. — Members of the Body Instruments of the Soul. — Life and Organization. — Sensation a Condition for Psychical Activity. — Three Forms of Psychical Phe- nomena. — Not a Partitive Division 1 DIVISION FIRST. THE INTELLECT. PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT : DEFINITIONS. What is Knowledge ? — Certainty ? — Knowledge differs from Truth. — Three Terms implied in Knowledge. — Not the Sole Function of the Intellect to know. — Definitions of Substance, Quality, Attribute, Property. — Classes of Qualities. —Subject and Object. — Mind sometimes both Subject and Object. — Power, Faculty, Capacity. — Division of Intellectual Phenomena x CONTENTS. PART I. THE PEESENTATIVE FACULTIES. CHAPTER I. SENSE-PERCEPTION. PAGE Presentative Faculties described. —How can the Soul come into Com- munication with the External World ? — The Senses. — The Senso- rium. — Sensation a State of Mind. — Perception. — Sensation and Perception defined. — Sensation Subjective, Perception Objective, 19 CHAPTER II. HOAV WE BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH THE OUTER WORLD. Not directly through one or more of the Senses. — Sense of Smell. — No Intimation of Externality. — Taste not Separable wholly from Touch. — A Purely Mental State. — Hearing ; Nothing External cognized. — Sight ; Sense of Color. — The Knowledge Subjective. — Touch; Something besides Tactual Effect. — Pressure. — Knowl- edge of Externality not through Sense alone. — Through Resistance in connection with Touch. — Sensations Signs of External Objects, 22 CHAPTER III. ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. Each Sense a Borrower from the Other. — Distance and Weight esti- mated by the Eye. — Also Certain States of the Mind. — Manifold Increase of Knowledge by this means. — Acquired Perception some- times Deceptive, but Original Perceptions are not; Instances. — In the Destruction of One Sense the Others rendered more Acute. — Sight supplying Place of Hearing ; and Hearing and Touch, of Sight, 27 CHAPTER IV. NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE ACQUIRED BY SENSE-PERCEPTION. Of Individuals and not of Classes. — What do we perceive? — Quali- ties and not Substances. — Perception only One of the Elements of Knowledge. — Primary and Secondary Qualities of Matter. — Hamil- ton's Division of Qualities into Primary, Secundo-Primary, and Secondary 33 CONTENTS. xi CHAPTER V. ATTENTION. PAGE The Mind Active and not merely Passive. — Meaning of Attention. — Seeming Inattention not always Actual. — Difference in Degrees of Attention. —Difficulty of fixing Attention. — Exceptional Intensity. — Can the Mind attend to more than One Thing at a time ? — Hamilton's Views. — Judgment and Comparison make Simultaneity Necessary. — How Many Things can the Mind attend to at once ? — Intensity Inversely as the Number. — Remarkable Instances. — At- tention and the Will. — Hamilton's Three Degrees of Attention. — Reflection as distinguished from Attention 37 CHAPTER VI. THE INNER-SENSE. External and Internal Phenomena. — How we know the Latter. — The Name of This Faculty. — Not properly " Consciousness." — Not " Self-Consciousness." — " Internal Perception." — " Inner-Sense " the least objectionable. — Its High Authority. — Sole Reliance in the Study of Psychology. — Relation to Attention. — Does it take Cognizance of all our Mental States ? — Facts bearing in Both Direc- tions. — Reasons for believing that the Inner-Sense sometimes cog- nizes what it does not particularly notice. — States of Mind not cog- nized by the Inner Sense 43 CHAPTER VII. CONSCIOUSNESS. Two Different Uses of the Term. — Three Characteristics of Conscious- ness. — Formula of Consciousness in the Narrower Sense. — Objec- tion to this. — Hamilton's Doctrine of Consciousness. — The Real Significance of Consciousness. — Dr. Hopkins's Definition. — The Proper Formula. — Physical Analogy. — Not under Control of the Will 48 xii CONTENTS. PART II. THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY. CHAPTER I. THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY DESCRIBED. PAGE Recurrent Ideas and Cognitions. — Dr. Porter's Definition. — A Power of the Mind itself. — Dr. Hopkins's " Mental Current." —The Re- current States cannot he excluded. — Subject to Laws 55 CHAPTER II. LAWS OF ASSOCIATION Dr. Hickok's Statement and Illustration. — Definition by Isaac Taylor. — " Suggestion." — Two Classes of Laws. — Primary Laws: Place, Time, Resemblance, Contrast, Cause and Effect, Means and End. — These Principles sufficient to account for all the Phe- nomena. — May be placed in three Groups. -- Attempt to reduce to One Principle, not successful. — Secondary Principles of Associa- tion: Vividness, Recency, Repetition, Mental Peculiarities, At- tention. — Causes of Suggestion not always Traceable. — These Principles all Natural Laws. — How far, and in what Manner, the Soul can influence the Order of Representation. — No Direct In- fluence. — Can give Attention to One rather than to Another Presen- tation. — Discipline Necessary to do this effectually 57 CHAPTER III. FORMS WHICH THE REPRESENTATIVE PRODUCT ASSUMES. Three Forms. — Fantasy defined. — Distinguished from Memory and Imagination. — Spontaneous. — Fancy and Fantasy. — Memory : the Mind's Power to retain Cognitions and other States once experi- enced. — Two Functions of Memory. — Two Kinds of Reproduction. Spontaneous and Voluntary. — How the Latter operates. — Recol- lection. — Importance of Memory. — Essential to All Operations of CONTENTS. xin PAGE the Intellect. — Varieties of Memory. — Instances. — Circumstantial Memory. — Logical Memory. — Verbal Memory. — Difference in the Power of Memory. — Extraordinary Instances. — Powerful Memory not Incompatible with Great Intellectuality. — Instances. — Cultiva- tion of the Memory. — Mnemonic Systems. — Rules for Improve- ment of Memory. — Trusting the Memory. — Careful Attention. — Imperfect Reading. — Association. — System and Order. — Re- lation to Writing and Extemporaneous Speaking. — Imagination: Definition. — Differs from Generalization, Conception, Fantasy, and Memory. — A Creative, not a mere Image-making Power. — Two Grades, Recombination and Original Construction. — Illus- trations. — Originality. — Office in Mechanical Invention. — In- vention of a Machine. — Exists first in the Mind; Imagination mainly involved. — Something more than Recombination. — Crea- tive not in the Extreme Sense but in the Ordinary. — Difference between Imagination and Invention 68 CHAPTER IV. RELATION OF THE IMAGINATION TO SOME OTHER FACULTIES. As related to Memory. — To Judgment. — To Reasoning. — To Taste. — Active and Passive Imagination. — A Real Distinction .... 82 CHAPTER V. UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. Often regarded as merely Ornamental. — Use and Beauty not antago- nistic. — Useful to Writers and Speakers. — Essential to Vivid Description. — Essential in Invention. — In Enterprise and Affairs; Napoleon. — Connection with Science. — Ideals and Character . . 85 CHAPTER VI. CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. Strengthened by Use and impaired by Disuse. — Physical Analogy. — Study of Great Masters. — Study of Nature. — Illustrations .... 89 xiv CONTENTS. PART III. THE ELABORATIVE FACULTY. CHAPTER I. THOUGHT AND THINKING. PAGE Previous Presentations. — Individuals, not Classes. — Intuitive as dis- tinguished from Elaborative. — Thought and Thinking. — Restric- tion of " Thought " to Discursive Operations. — The Different Classes of Phenomena. — Efficiency and Importance of Thought. — Illustra- tive Instance 95 CHAPTER II. CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. Double Meaning of " Conception." — Conception, the Power and Pro- cess; Concept, the Product. — Several Distinct Operations. — Not always conscious of the Process of Cognition, still there is a Process. — First Process that of Analysis. — Abstraction, Com- parison, Generalization, Denomination. — Formation thus of a Class or Concept. — Concept of a Quality, or of a Class. — Con- cept denned. — Individuals in same Concept differ, and yet are alike. — Higher and Lower Concepts. — Classes of Classes. — Going from the Individual to the Summum Genus, the Number of Objects increases, and the Number of Qualities decreases, and vice versa. — The Two Wholes of Extension and Intension. — Summum Genus and Infima Species. — The Individual physically, but not logically divisible. — Absolute Summum Genus. — Importance of Accurate Conceptions. — The Three Great Virtues of Conception. — Clear- ness, Distinctness, Adequateness. — Division and Definition. — Office of Each. — Rules for Division. — 1. Must proceed from Genera to Species. — 2. One Fundamental Principle. —3. Mutually Exclu- sive. — 4. Sum of Parts equal to Whole. — 5. Not by Negatives. — Logical and Physical Division. — Importance of Division. — Rules for Definition. — 1. By Essential Marks. Species = Genus + Specific Difference. — 2. Definition should not include the Name of the Thing to be defined. — 3. Must include all the Objects to be defined and Nothing more. — 4. Must not be by Negatives. — 5. Free from Surplus Words 99 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER III, JUDGMENT. PAGE Definition. —Judgments and Propositions. — Predicate and Subject.— Analysis of a Judgment. — Judgments Classified. — Quantities, Uni- versal, Particular, and Singular. — Distributed Terms. — Qualities, Affirmative and Negative. — Four Kinds of Judgments. —Dis- tributed Predicate. — Judgments, Categorical and Hypothetical. — Hypothetical Judgments as Conditional, Disjunctive, and Dilem- rnatic. — Problematic, Assertory, and Apodictic Judgments. — Judg- ment the Essential Factor in all Thought. — Primitive Judgment. — All real Thinking is essentially Judging. — A Perpetual Mental Operation. — Hamilton on the Functions of Judgment 114 CHAPTER IV. REASONING AND INFERENCE. Definition of Reasoning. — Basis in the Nature of Things. — Deductive and Inductive. — Difference between Reasoning and Inference. — Analytic and Synthetic Reasoning. — Inference, Immediate and Mediate. — Several Forms of Immediate Reasoning. — Opposition. — Contrary, Sub-contrary, Subaltern, and Contradictory Opposition. — Value of this Means of Inference. — Conversion: Definition. — Rule for Conversion. — Different Kinds of Conversion. — Utility of this Kind of Inference. — Mediate Inference. — Three Judgments in- volved, but related. — Arguments. — The Syllogism. — Analysis of it. — Function of the Middle Term. —Aristotelian Dictum; Hamilton's Maxim. — Dr. Hopkins's Objection to these. — Necessity of begin- ni ig with Propositions on which All are agreed. — Different Kinds of Syllogisms. — Categorical and Hypothetical. — Conditional Syllo- gisms. — Rules. — The Disjunctive Syllogism. — Its Principle. — Modus Tollendo Ponens. — Modus Ponendo Tollens. — Dilemmatic Syllogisms. — Three Forms. — Famous Dilemma of Demosthenes against iEschines 122 xvi CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. INDUCTION. PAGE How to ascertain the Facts from which to reason. — Meaning of Induc- tion. — Absolute Certainty not Attainable. — Fair Presumptions furnished. — Two Determining Principles. — 1. Enumeration of All Particulars. — Nothing gained by this. — 2. Principle of a Common Cause. — The Underlying Axiom. — Uniformity of Nature not an Axiom, but Uniformity of Causation is. — Can Induction be brought under tbe Form of the Syllogism ? — Difference of Opinion. — Exact Induction not much used. — Great Practical Value of General In- duction. — Dr. Porter's Illustration. — Analogy and Experience. — Meaning of Analogy. — Its Use. — How Experience differs from Analogy. — Induction among the Uneducated. — Achievements of Scientific Induction. — Illustration 138 CHAPTER VI. DEMONSTRATIVE AND PROBABLE REASONING. Difference between them. — The Term "Probable" misleading.— Practical Certainty. — Three Kinds of Evidence. — Testimony. — Probahle in Itself. — Substantia] Agreement of Witnesses. — Limita- tion. — Things to be taken into Account. — Absurdity of rejecting Testimony where no Defects exist. — Circumstantial Evidence. — Its Nature. — Dr. Wayland's Three Rules. — Application to a Con- crete Case 146 PAKT IV. THE REGULATIVE FACULTY. CHAPTER I. NATURE OF THE REGULATIVE COGNITIONS. Explanation of Terms. — Why not considered Earlier. —These Cogni- tions not through any of the Powers previously described. — Three Characteristics. — Origin of the Idea of " Substance." — Known as certainly as Qualities. — Not an Inference. — An Immediate and Necessary Cognition is Essential to all other Knowledge 155 CONTENTS. xvn CHAPTER II. THE FACULTY WHICH FURNISHES THESE COGNITIONS. PAGE No Agreement as to the Name. — " Regulative Faculty."— " Intui- tion." — Objection. — Objection to " Reason." — " The Common Sense" — General Names of the Cognitions. — Logically First in Order but Last to be Apprehended 159 CHAPTER III. PRODUCTS OF THIS FACULTY. Being or Existence. — Space. — Space Subjective or Objective? — Time: Origin of this Notion. — Personal Identity. — Its Origin and Nature. — Number.— Resemblance : Basis of All Classification and All Science. — The Infinite : not a Necessary Idea. — Possible Origin. — Substance and Motion. — By Some regarded as Necessary, by Others as not. — Motion as given by Perception. — Other Necessary Ideas. — Truths as distinguished from Ideas. — First Truths. — Characteristics. — Distinguishing Marks of these Ideas and Truths . 161 DIVISION SECOND. THE SENSIBILITIES. CHAPTER I. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE SENSIBILITIES, AND THEIR RELATION TO THE INTELLECT. «• Tri-partite Division of the Soul. — Function of the Sensibilities. — Sen- sation and the Sensibilities. — Relation of Sensibilities to the In- tellect. — Some Form of Good radical in All Products of the Sensibilities. — Evil and Good. — Different Meanings of Good. — Divisions of the Sensibilities 171 xviii CONTENTS. CHAPTER II. THE EMOTIONS. PAGE Emotion used in Two Senses. — Definition.— Beauty. — Its Double Sense. — Subjective and Objective. — 2s ot confined to Material Objects. — Not to be confounded with Utility. — Deformity. — Is there a Standard of Beauty ? — Differences resulting from Differ- ences of Culture. — Grandeur and Sublimity. — Akin to Beauty. — More Powerful Emotions than Beauty. —Hamilton's Three Forms of Sublimity. —Moral Sublimity. — The Ludicrous. —Not Easily defined. — Its Occasions. — Incongruity a Prominent Element. — Wit. —Its Meaning formerly Wider than now.— Higher Form of the Ludicrous. — Dr. Barrow's Description. — Burnett. — Dr. Up- ham. — Burlesque. — Hudibras. — Irving. — Difference between Wit and Humor. —The Ludicrous dots not imply Contempt. — Utility of the Ludicrous. — Liable to Abuse. — Its Benefits. —Danger of Sarcasm . . 174 CHAPTER III. THE EMOTIONS - CONTINUED. Good as a Product to be reckoned among the Necessary Ideas. — So also of Beauty and the Ludicrous. — Difficulty about the Name of this Power. — " Affective Reason."— The Self-regarding Emotions. Cheerfulness. -^Partly a Matter of Temperament. — Its Higher Forms. — Dejection. — Sorrow ; not the Same as Dejection. — Self-Respect. — How it differs from Self-Love. — From Self-Esteem. — Self-Complacency. — Self-Satisf action. — Self-Sufficiency. — All These have their Normal Spheres. — Pride defined. —Distinguished from Vanity. — Egotism. — The Opposite Emotions. — Displeasure. Disgust. — Indignation. — Surprise. — Astonishment. — Wonder. — How These differ. — Their Utility. —Reverence. — Hope and Fear. — Matter of Doubt. —Meaning of Hope. — Its Utility. — Double Meaning of Fear. — Not the Exact Opposite of Hope. —Alarm. — Terror. — Horror 185 CONTENTS. xix CHAPTER IV. THE MORAL EMOTIONS. PAGE Relation to Ethics. — Determination of Right and Wrong. — Occasions of Moral Emotions. — Three Cases. —1. Obligation, Judgment, Con- science—Limited Function of Conscience; a Simple Impulsive Faculty. — 2. Approval and Disapproval of Our Own Acts. — 3. Ap- proval and Disapproval of Acts of Others. —Repentance and Peni- tence. — Contrition, Compunction, and Remorse. — Faith .... 193 CHAPTER V. THE APPETITES. How Appetites and Desires differ from Emotions. — What Appetites and Desires have in Common. — Appetites defined. — Have their Causes in the Body. — Periodicity. — Kinds. — Object. — Self-limit- ing. — Possible Abuse. — Artificial Appetites. — Narcotics. — Alco- hol. — Normal becoming Abnormal. — Instincts. — Definition. — Not without Design. —Intelligence, but not of the Subjects. — Incapable of Improvement. — Human Instincts. — Inverse Ratio of Instinct and Intelligence. — Instincts of Children. — Men do Certain Things entirely by Instinct 197 CHAPTER VI. THE DESIRES. Definition. — Different Kinds. — Continued Existence ; Instinctive and Voluntary. —Desire of Property. — Design of this Desire. —Curi- osity. — Its Universality; its Utility. — Desire of Power. — Nor- mal, but may be abused. — Ambition. — Desire of Esteem. — A Proper Desire. — Not necessarily Selfish. — Limitations. —Vanity. — Society, Liberty, and Happiness. — Doubtful if to be classed here. — No Man Sufficient to Himself. — Society a Condition Men are born into. — The Desire of Happiness, or of Good : the Same as Self-Love. — Differs from Other Desires in that it depends on them for Gratification ; does not lie Proximate to the Will. — Self-Love and Selfishness. — Desire of Liberty : Relation to Other Desires. — A Simple Definition 204 XX CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. PAGE How Affections differ from Desires. — Characteristic Element. — Aversion. — Classification as Benevolent and Malevolent objected to. — Beneficent and Defensive or Punitive. — Affections purely- Personal. — Love of Kindred. — Earliest and most Primitive.— Parental Love. — Mainly Instinctive. — But the Subject of Culture. — Its Utility. — Filial Love. — An Implanted and Abiding Princi- ple. — Fraternal Affection. — Friendship. — Gratitude. — Something more than a Mere Feeling. — Kindness awakens Affection. — Patriotism. — Conspicuous under a Popular Form of Government. — National Life. — National Consciousness and Sensibility. — Philanthropy. — A Positive Affection. — Not Exceptional nor Local. — Benevolent Enterprises. — Reformatory Movements. — Noted Phil- anthropists. — In Barbarous Tribes. — Sympathy. — Not a Simple Emotion. — Affected by the Emotions of Others. — More affected by Adversities of Others than by their Prosperities. — Reasons for the Difference. — Difference between it and Commiseration and Compas- sion. — Not Pity. — Pity and Commiseration 211 CHAPTER VIII. THE MALEVOLENT OB MALEFICENT AFFECTIONS. Reasons for adhering to These Terms. — Anger. — Basis of All Malev- olent Affections. - Instinctive and Voluntary. — May be diminished or enhanced by Reflection. — Affected by Imagination. —Instinctive Anger. — Culpable in Persons of Culture. — Not necessarily wholly Inconsistent with Our Constitution. — A Proper Place and Use for it. — Instinctive Resentment, no Moral Character. — Voluntary Resentment, how far Justifiable. — Different Kinds of Resentment. — Indignation, Wrath, Rage, Fury, Revenge, Envy, Jealousy. — Peculiarity of the Last 222 CONTENTS. xxi DIVISION THIRD. THE WILL. CHAPTER I. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE WILL. PAGE Recapitulation. — Intimate Relations of the Three Divisions of the Soul. — What is the Will ?— Not an Entity, but a Power. —Defini- tions: Hopkins, Reid, "Whedon. — Acts with Reference to the Other Powers. —Illustration. — The Real Act of the "Will. — Volition fol- lows Choice, but not necessarily. — Choice Incomplete in itself. — Two Constituents of the Will, Choice and "Volition. — Will condi- tioned on Other Acts. — Volition not Physical Effort 231 CHAPTER II. CHOICE AND MOTIVE. Motive not a Part nor a Cause of the Willing, but an Essential Con- dition. — Condition differs from Cause. — Conflicting Motives. — Classes of Motives. — Alternatives of Duty and Pleasure. — Sub- sidiary Motives. — No Choice compelled, — Choice not Preference. — Determination 236 CHAPTER III. MAN AS A FREE AGENT. Free only within Certain Limits. — Neither Body, nor Intellect, nor Sensibilities absolutely Free. — Even the Will has its Freedom restricted. — Must choose between Contradictory Alternatives. — Liberty of Choice not Liberty of Action. — Conflicting Influences. — But Freedom Absolute within its Sphere. — Testimony of Con- sciousness. — Universal Conviction. — Approval and Disapproval of Acts of Others. — Responsibility implies Freedom. — Judgment modified by Circumstances. — Power of the Will and the Influences affecting it Variable. — If the Influences are Controlling, then there is no Will. — Weakness and Strength of Will depend on the Subject 239 xxii CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. THE WILL NOT A SUSCEPTIBILITY, BUT A POWER. PAGE Effect of the Composition of Forces. — Dr. Schuyler's Illustration. — Motive the Reason why, but not the Cause. — The Will a First Cause. — A Finite First Cause just as Real as an Infinite First Cause. — A Supernatural Power. — Man the Master of his Cravings .... 244 CHAPTER V. MORAL CHOICE. Preliminary Deliberation. — Sometimes a Protracted Struggle, and sometimes an Immediate Decision. — Usually between Self-Interest and Duty. — Deliberation in Other Cases, but more easily settled. — Difference in the Consequences. — This Distinction not wholly Clear. — A Tinge of Obligation even in Self-regarding Desires. — Illustration. — Will in Relation to Construction of Character. — Order of Relative Importance among the Principles involved in the Making of Character. — Law of Right Paramount. — Will as a Gov- erning Purpose. — The Final and Supreme End of Action. — The Opposite Interest 247 CHAPTER VI. COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. Liberty and Freedom. — Liberty in a Modified Sense. — The Child's Definition of Liberty. — This nearly the Correct Notion. — No One in Possession of this Liberty. — Desires mutually Restrictive. — Is Perfect Liberty Attainable ? — It is at least Conceivable. — A Perfect Character implies Perfect Liberty. — We are under a System of Law. — Our Mai-Adjustment to it. — The Object of all Ethical Training is to effect a Re-adjustment. — When One's Desires run Parallel with the Divine Desires they will be Parallel with Each Other, and Conflict will be Impossible, and Liberty will be Perfect. — Liberty of Saints and Angels, not because they cannot do Wrong, but because they do not want to. — We do not want to put our Hands in the Fire, but we are at Liberty to do so 252 CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. NECESSARY IDEAS PRODUCED BY THE COMBINED ACTION OF THE INTELLECT, SENSIBILITIES, AND WILL. PAGE Reference to Necessary Ideas previously considered. — Personality. — Closely related to all Other Necessary Ideas of this Class. — Unde- finable. — Person and Thing. — Power and Cause. — Not Identical, but closely connected. — Cause implies Power. — Power not Phe- nomenon. — Not a Product of the Discursive Faculties. — Its First Cognition in Personal Exercise of it. — " Invariable Antecedency." — An Antecedent not necessarily a Cause. — Dr. Hickok's Illustra- tion. — Successive Events caused by a Common Force. — Notion of Cause not gained by Experience. — An Antecedent with Power. — Axiom implied. — Freedom. — Origin of the Idea. — The Occasion. — Rights and Obligations. — Origin of the Idea of Right. — Of Obli- gation. — Obligation related to Intellect, Sensibility, and"Will. — Contains Elements of both Reason and Impulse. — An Authorita- tive Impulse, an Inward Law. — The Law Promissory and Mina- tory, but not Compulsory. — Merit and Demerit — Their Nature. — Responsibility. — Dependent on the Will as Free. — Unthinkable without Freedom. — Differs from Obligation.— Punishment. — Not the Same as Consequence of Conduct. — Penalty and Punishment . 256 PSYCHOLOGY. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. Psychology is the science of the human soul. The term soul is used here rather than mind, as more obviously cov- ering the whole subject of inquiry. As Dr. p syc h i og y Porter says, the terms Science of Mind, Mental defined. Philosophy, and Mental Science are apt to be applied only to the power of the soul to know — to the intellectual fac- ulties — and are not generally used with reference to the capacity to feel and to will, or for its functions taken together. As just stated, Psychology is a science. It is important to understand definitely what is meant by science. The general meaning, of course, is knowledge. But psychology science as used among scholars is something a science, other than this. It means knowledge systematized and classified, embracing also a knowledge of laws, causes, and relations. While often used as substantially synonymous with Philosophy, it yet differs from it in this Philosophy respect, that Science pertains more to mat- ™^IT ters of fact, and Philosophy to speculative from science, matters. Perhaps we may be justified in saying that Phi- losophy deals with truth, Science with facts. Philosophy deals also with first principles; that is, the principles which are prior to all science, and which underlie all 2 PSYCHOLOGY. knowledge. It is scarcely possible, then, to pursue the study of any science without an implied philosophy. The first thing to be done in the study of any science is to observe the Phenomena. By phenomena we mean sim- Phenomena P^ those things which present themselves to to be studied our powers of intelligence, — those which ap- pear. We classify these and endeavor to ascer- tain the causes of them, and the laws and principles by which they are governed. We must pursue this course in the study of the human soul. The peculiarity of this Observation study is that our observations of the phenomena of psychical of the soul are to be made by one of the fac- by a faculty ulties of the soul itself. We have a distinct of the soul. f acu ity, the function of which is to take cogni- zance of the operations of the soul. Popularly it is known by the name of Consciousness, but scientifically this term has a broader signification, as will be seen when we come to study it more particularly. The faculty is called more definitely by the name of the Inner-Sense. By it we gain all the knowledge we have of the phenomena of the mind or soul. OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MATTER AND MIND. Is there any good reason for believing in the existence of mind or soul as something separate from matter? Mate- Materialistic rialistic philosophy answers this question in the arguments, negative. It asserts that there is nothing in the universe but matter, and that what we call mind, soul, spirit, is only a form, or perhaps some function, of matter. The main arguments for this doctrine are as follows : 1. The soul is connected with a body. 2. It is developed with the MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 3 body. 3. It is dependent on the body for its knowledge and enjoyment. 4. It is also dependent on the body for its energy and activity. 5. And finally, that we know nothing about soul, while we have a definite knowledge of matter. To these arguments it may be replied : That while we admit that the body is a condition for the soul, counter and that the latter is dependent to a certain arguments, extent on the former, still there are many conclusive rea- sons for believing it to be a separate existence. 1. While by sense-perception we know nothing about the soul, except its operations, we still know quite as much about it as we know about the body. The only w , intelligence we have concerning the latter, ex- much about cept the fact of its existence, is the qualities about the and properties which appeal to the several senses. body# The same is true concerning the mind. We know by the Inner-Sense only its energies. The knowledge of the substance in both cases comes to us by the very con- stitution of the mind itself — we know that such sub- stance or substances exist, as soon as we cognize the qualities. It is in both the same. The Inner-Sense appre- hends certain operations constituting mental phenomena, and we at once and necessarily know that these phe- nomena have a basis, a substance, just as we perceive cer- tain qualities of matter; and there necessarily follows in the mind the knowledge that there is a substance in which they inhere. If either of these be known more If eitber directly than the other, it is the soul, since the known more Inner-Sense gives us the phenomena of this the other, it directly ; while in the case of matter the Inner- 1S the soul * Sense must first be cognizant of sensation before percep- tion can apprehend any external phenomena. 4 PSYCHOLOGY. 2. The two sets of phenomena are radically different in The two sets many respects ; in this, particularly, that those radlcaSy'S. 8 ' °^ matter are mainly properties and qualities, ferent. while those of soul are energies and activities. 3. The soul distinguishes itself from matter. It is clear to itself that it is not matter. It knows, as certainly s ui di f - as ^ knows anything, that the perceiving agent guishes itself is not the same as the material objects which it from matter. . T , , . . ,, » , perceives. It also resists the forces and move- ments of its own body, and in so doing distinguishes itself from that which it resists. 4. The laws of matter are not compatible with the phe- nomena of soul. Take the law of inertia, which is an Laws of mat- essential law of matter. A body will continue oTmind t in - S8 m a state °f res t or motion, whichever it may compatible, be, unless some force outside of itself operate upon it and change that state. The soul is subject to no The soul self- such law. It is self-active. It knows itself as active. acting voluntarily. It acts from within by an energy of its own, and not merely as it is acted upon. These are only a few of the reasons for believing that the soul is something entirely different in essence from the body. One of the principal reasons why we know less about the character of the soul than we know about matter, Reasons why notwithstanding the fact that the former lies. we seem to proximate to the consciousness, while the latter about matter does not, is that the operations of any soul can than mind. ^ e b serV ed by only one person, and that one the subject of its operations ; while material facts and qualities can be perceived by several at the same time. They can thus make them easily and at once matters of MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 5 comparison and discussion, and so become quickly familiar with them. It also tends to greater accuracy, since one's discernment may supplement, and so correct, that of another. We do not dwell much upon subjects concern- ing which Ave cannot have a communion of interest with others about us. Especially is this the case early in life, and with persons who have no great mental discipline. We do not naturally give much thought to anything unless our attention is called to it by the action or suggestion of those about us ; and when the subject is any act or char- acteristic of our own minds there is no one to observe it but ourselves, — hence no one to call our attention to it, or to make suggestions concerning it. For these, and possi- bly other reasons, we become habituated to think and talk about the external very much more than the internal, — the material rather than the spiritual. RELATION OF THE SOUL TO THE BODY. 1. In man the body is a condition for the soul. It is a principle laid down by Dr. Hopkins, that " those forces, and forms of being, and faculties and products, Law of con _ are lower which are a condition for those which ditioning and are conditioned upon them." The whole struc- ture of the universe proceeds on this principle, and herein the unity of the Cosmos is found. Among the great forces gravitation is a condition for cohesion, gravitation and cohesion for chemical affinity, and all these for vegetable life, and this with those, for animal life, and all for man. This does not imply an identification of the Condition not conditioning and the conditioned, nor that the ^fcondi- former is the cause of the latter. The founda- tioned. tion is a condition for the house, but it is not the house, 6 PSYCHOLOGY. nor the cause of it. Much less is the house identical with the foundation. It is furthermore evident that the Conditioned conditioned is in general something more than something the condition. Cohesion is gravity plus some- the condi- thing quite other than gravitation. So of man tiomng. as £] ie conditioned of animal ; it is "animal plus something else, and this something else is rational soul. Still, as a house cannot exist without a foundation, and as cohesion is impossible without gravitation, so, as far as we can see, the human soul is conditioned on the human body. 2. The various parts of the body are instruments or means for the operations of the soul. The brain, the nerv- Members of ous system, the several senses, and all the instruments necessai T concomitants and conditions of these, of soul. are also conditions and means for the soul's action. The body is connected with the soul, and thus brought into this operative relationship by the principle of Life and n ^ e - The existence of the soul is not neces- organization. sarily dependent on this, any more than is the matter 'of which the body is composed. But the organ- ization of the body is so apparently dependent on life, that we nowhere find the latter where the former does not exist; and on the cessation of life, disorganization begins. 3. The various powers of the soul are first called into exercise by the organs of sense. Were there no capa- Sensation bility of receiving impressions from without, for^cMcai the soul, though possessed of susceptibilities, activity. would never act, and consequently would be unconscious of its own existence. But having once been called into action by these impressions, it is no longer wholly dependent on them for its activity. The inner- MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 7 sense, the discursive faculties, reason and memory, begin to work as soon as there is anything to work on, or any occasion ; and this occasion is furnished by the first im- pressions from without. DIVISION OF PSYCHICAL PHENOMENA AND POWERS. There are three forms of psychical manifestation, — the Intellect, the Sensibility, and the Will. These f ol- Three foms low the principle of conditioning and concli- of psychical tioned, to which reference has been previously p er made. We have no feeling, that is, no action of the sen- sibility, only as we have knowledge, which is a „ f .. product of the intellect. There can be no in- without terest, no desire, or any delight, in that of now e s& ' which we know nothing. So, also, we make no effort, and put forth no activity, except as we have No action both knowledge and feeling. We act in view ^^igjL e of motives, but motives are of the sensibilities. and feeling. We are to guard here against the thought that there is a division of the soul into parts, of which one is to be regarded as Intellect, another as Sensibility, and „ arti _ the third as Will. The soul is an indivisible tive division unit. It has no parts ; it does not act in sec- tions. Whatever activity or phenomena it has is of the whole. The soul as intellect knows ; as sensibility it feels ; and as will it chooses, and puts forth volitions. It is the soul, and not any part of it, that does each of these. DIVISION FIRST. THE INTELLECT. PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT — DEFINITIONS. It is by the Intellect that we know. But what is it to know? It would be impossible to answer this question intelligently, except to a person who already in what is some sense understands the answer. There is knowledge? nothing out of a knowing mind to which it can apply. Eminent philosophers have answered the question by say- ing it is " to be certain of something." This seems to be little more than a synonyme, but it serves to bound off knowledge from some things liable to be mistaken for it which it is not. It is not belief, or opinion, or conjecture. " Knowledge," says Whately, " implies three things, — 1st, Firm belief ; 2d, Of what is true ; 3d, On sufficient grounds. If any one is in doubt, for example, i ncom patibie respecting one of Euclid's demonstrations, he with doubt, cannot be said to know the proposition proved by it ; if, again, he is fully convinced of anything that is not true, he is mistaken in supposing himself to know it ; Not s ^ on „ lastly, if two persons are each fully confident, mous with one that the moon is inhabited, and the other that it is not (though one of these opinions must be true), neither of them can properly be said to know the truth, since he cannot have sufficient proof of it." Knowledge is not the same as Truth. This is evident 12 PSYCHOLOGY. from the fact that truth is frequently the object of knowl- Differs from e( %e, the thing to be known, and it would not truth. b e quite reasonable to assume that the knowl- edge and the thing known are identical. Truth is the reality of things, and is the same, whether known or not. New truths are being constantly found out, but until found out they are not known. Then again truth is not knowledge when it is not certitude. As we have seen, man knows only what he is certain of. There are actual truths of which he is not yet certain ; hence there is no knowledge respecting them. " Knowledge supposes three terms : a being who knows, Three terms an object known, and a relation determined be- impiied in tween the knowing being and the known object. knowlsd&TG This relation properly constitutes knowledge." 1 But it is not the whole of the business of the Intellect to know. The greater part of its operations are subsidiary Not the sole to knowledge, and many of these operations thefntSiect sto P snort of actua l knowledge. We may ap- to know. proximate certainty to a greater or less degree, and even much of what we take for granted and act upon as if we knew it, is not knowledge in its strict and scien- tific sense. We search for knowledge ; we investigate, and reason, and compute ; we examine, and compare, and generalize, and do many other things with the intellect, the result of which is sometimes knowledge, but more frequently it is belief, theory, or conviction ; and some- times, perhaps, it is none of these. There are several Terms of frequent use in the study of psychology, some of which have already ap- Terms to be peared in the preceding pages, and others defined. we s h a ll find as we go on, which I take this 1 Fleming. GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT. 13 opportunity to define and describe. Psychology and Phenomena have been previously explained. Correlative with the latter is Substance or substratum. This leaning of term is used to denote the unknown basis which substance, underlies all phenomena or properties of which the mind takes cognizance, whether internal or external. We get no knowledge of it by any of the senses, nor by any generalization or judgment or reasoning. The knowledge of it arises spontaneously in the mind whenever there is a cognition, through any means, of any phenomena what- ever. The mind itself furnishes this knowledge on the proper occasions, because it is constituted to do so. As included in phenomena we have cognitions to which we give the names of quality, property, attribute, etc. Quality is that in a substance which appeals to n ualit the power of apprehension in us, and which attribute, distinguishes • one individual from another, or proper y " one class from others. Qualities may be essential or acci- dental. By the former we mean those characteristics which a thing cannot lose without ceasing to be, — for instance, body must have extension ; man must Classes of have rationality. By the latter are meant those qualities, aptitudes and manners of existence which substances may have at one time and not at another, or which some other aptitudes might be put in the place of, and yet the object would not cease to be, — as a white house, a sick man, a cloudy sky. Attribute is very nearly a synonyme for quality, only perhaps more likely to be used in speaking of qualities of a higher type and more dignified character, as the attributes of God. Property has reference usually to some peculiar quality, 14 PSYCHOLOGY. but is frequently used coextensively with quality in gen- eral. As matter of fact, these terms are largely used in popular discourse and conversation as synonymous. Subject and Object are terms frequently occurring in this study, as also their derivatives, subjective and objective Subject and By the former is meant the soul as perceiving, object. observing, thinking, and by the latter that about which the soul is thus occupied, whether it be external or internal. The object is also the product of the mind in thinking, even when no material object is implied. As, for instance, a man has been studying and investigating the cause of earthquakes. He has finally arrived at what seems to him an explanation of the phenomena. He has formed a theory. This is now objective, while his previous processes have been subjective. Generally, the thinking or knowing entity is the subject ; that which it thinks about or knows is the object. So of the terms subjective and objective, though these as used are somewhat more elusive. There are some words which have both a subjec- tive and an objective meaning ; as Beauty is used either for the quality in the object which causes the peculiar feeling in the mind, or for the feeling itself. In the former case it is objective beauty, and in the latter subjective beauty. But a caution, and perhaps a modification, of what has been said, is necessary here. When the mind is occupied The mind about its own processes, it will be seen at once bothsubiect that the subject and the object are the same, and object. The mind in this as observing and thinking about itself is the subject, while the mind as being observed and thought about is the object. For the most part, phi- losophers have denominated the mind as thought about, as subject-object, and some, in order to make a symmetrical GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT. 15 nomenclature, have called the external object the object- object, though this latter designation seems hardly neces- sary. We have another set of words closely related. The first of these is Power. It is in general an ability to pro- duce a change. It is not necessarily that which power is at any given time producing the changes, but that which renders the subject of it competent to produce changes. As, for instance, I have power to walk, though at present I am sitting still. Power is by a considerable number of writers represented as active and passive ; the latter indicating a capability of being changed. But this, it seems to me, is better to be designated as Susceptibility, which I would thus define. Faculty is closely akin to power. All faculties are powers, but, according to Reid, not all powers are facul- ties. He regards the word faculty as properly applied to those powers which are original and natural, and which make a part of the constitution of the human mind. Dr. Hopkins teaches that a faculty is some power of the mind under the control of the Will. Thus he would not call Consciousness a faculty, nor does he so regard that power by which the mind becomes possessed of necessary ideas. In this he does not agree with either Reid or Hamilton. Dr. Wayland applies the term to all the powers and susceptibilities of the mind, going to the other extreme. It will be sufficient for our purpose if we define faculty as the power of the mind to act. Capacity has a kindred signification. Literally it means room for. It is substantially synonymous with what I have previously called susceptibility, or what Reid Meaninff of calls the passive power of the mind. capacity. 16 PSYCHOLOGY. The relationship of these three terms may be briefly The three stated thus : power is active and passive ; fac- compared. ulty is active power ; capacity is passive power. 1 DIVISION OF THE INTELLECTUAL PHENOMENA. These will be treated in three parts, — i. The Pkesentative Faculty, ii. The Representative Faculty, hi. The Elaborative Faculty, iv. The Regulative Faculty. 1 Fleming. PART I. THE PRESENTATIVE FACULTY. CHAPTER I. SENSE-PERCEPTION. The Presentative Faculties are those powers of the mind by which knowledge comes to us directly from simple ob- servation. They are subdivided into Sense-Per- p^g,,^ ception, and what is popularly called Consciousness, faculties but more properly the Inner-Sense. The former gives us cognitions of the world of matter, the latter of the world of mind. One of the great questions of Psychology is, How does the soul come into communication with the outer world ? How can immaterial mind come into relations How can the with material substance, so that the former shall t0 communi" receive impressions from the latter? The an- {^"V^ l swers to this question have been various. Like world? most other subjects pertaining to our constitution and re- lations, it is involved in more or less of mystery. It is not likely that this mystery, under present human limitations, will ever be absolutely cleared up. But we can at least trace the outlines of the process, and note a considerable proportion of the attendant phenomena. We observe, first, that there are several bodily organs and instrumentalities concerned in this process. To begin at the outer surface, we find the organs of sight, of hearing, of smelling, of tasting, and of touch. Certain qualities or properties of matter affect these in 20 PSYCHOLOGY. ways corresponding to the constitution of the several organs. We next observe that these organs are all inti- The senso- niately connected with what is called the Senso- rium. rium. This consists of the brain, spinal column, and a system of nerves running from these to every minute part of the surface of the body, and to most of the internal points. When any outward object or quality makes an impression upon its corresponding sense, it affects one of Result of the nerves, winch is so nearly like a telegraphic sensation. w i re that through it an effect is instantly pro- duced in the brain. We cannot trace this series of physical effects any further. We only know that with the vibration of the nerve and the effect on the brain, there comes a change in the mind; we know ourselves to be in a new state. We say we are sensible of it, or conscious of it, and that is all we immediately know. This is what we call a Sensation, and the general name by which we designate this whole class of changes thus pro- Sensation a duced in the mind is Sensations. Thus, if a rose state of mind. i s brought near us for the first time, even if we are not able to see it, the odor given off from it somehow affects the olfactory nerve, and produces a peculiar state of mind. We apprehend this change by the Inner-Sense, but this is all that we at first know. We are not, on the supposition we are now making, aware that there is any outward object that causes it. The effect, so far as appears, may have been produced by some internal cause. So if, for the first time, we hear the music of an organ, the only cognition we have is of a state of mind, and we do not know that it comes from without. It is only after some experience, and the combined action of our senses, that we learn to refer these states of mind, SENSE-PERCEPTION. 21 or internal changes, to some object in the external world. Here we have Perception. We wish to get a clear distinction between Sensation and Percep- tion, and, as well, the exact relation of the two processes. Sensation is a state of mind produced by some external ob- ject or influence operating upon the sensorium, and is imme- diately successive to a change in some organ of U „ ,. * n A Sensation sense. Perception is an act or process of the andpercep- m,ind immediately successive to a sensation, by tlon denne(i- which we refer this sensation to something external as its cause. It is sometimes said that Sensation is subjective, and Perception objective. But this needs qualification. Per- ception, as well as Sensation, is subjective ; but sensation the knowledge we get by perception is of exter- lerleptfon nal, outer, or objective things, while Sensation objective, is exclusively subjective, and implies no knowledge of ex- ternality. Dr. Hopkins says that Sensation is a movement from without inward, Perception is a movement from within outward. 22 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER II. HOW WE BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH THE OUTER WORLD. Before Sensation can be of any use to us in the way of increasing our knowledge, or before Perception can properly avail as a faculty of cognition, we must some- how know that there is an external world. How do we acquire this knowledge, is the immediate present question. By superficial thinkers, and, indeed, by many who are not superficial, it is claimed that we come to this knowl- Not directly edge through one or more of the senses, as ormofeofthe touch or sight. Dr. Wayland held that sight senses. was immediate perception and not sensation. But I believe his view is sustained by very few good authorities. If, as has been stated, sensations are wholly subjective, and give no knowledge of external things, there must be some other way of accounting for this knowledge. That the sensations do not give this knowl- edge directly may be made evident by observing the process of sensation through the several organs. Let us take first the sense of Smell as being, perhaps, the simplest. An odorous body, say a rose, is brought Sense of near the person. This odor affects the olfac- smeil. tory nerve, as before described. Immediately a sensation is experienced, — a new state of mind. Of HOW ACQUAINTED WITH OUTER WORLD. 23 this the person affected becomes aware by the Inner-Sense. But this is all that he is aware of. There is in this no intimation of any external cause. So far as the r . J Gives no mti- individual is concerned, the new state may be matkm of ex- simply the result of an internal change. It is true that when once we have learned that there is an outer world, and have associated the sense of sight with that of smell, then, by observing that whenever the rose is present, the same state of mind occurs, and that it does not occur when this is absent, we come to regard the pres- ence of the rose as the cause of this particular state of mind, and the state of mind, or sensation, becomes the recognized sign that the rose is present. But neither of these is supposed in the present illustration. We are considering the sense of smell by itself, and are not yet presumed to have discovered an external world. Clearly, this sense by itself gives us no such knowledge. Let us next observe the operation of Taste, the sense of Flavor. There is some difficulty in studying this, as it can never be wholly separated from the sense of sense of Touch. Any object which we are to taste taste - must, in order to affect the organs of taste, touch the mouth and tongue. But we may easily separate, in our minds, the two sensations. In taste, the parts affected are the tongue, the palate, and the pharynx. The mucous membrane of these parts is thickly covered with papillce, and the nerves running from these, as from the organs of sensation, convey the effect to the brain, and hence the sense of taste. Evidently here, but not quite so evidently as in the case of smell, the state of mind is the only thing cognized. It cannot by itself, and before other experi- ences, give any intimation of a cause in the outer world, 24 PSYCHOLOGY. for the reason that an outer world is not yet cognized. Nor does this, of itself, intimate the outer world. The same result will be arrived at in the case of Hearing. Some sonorous body produces vibrations in the Sense of a i p which affect the auricular apparatus. The hearing. effect may proceed from a musical instrument. There is a corresponding effect in the mind. But this Nothing ex- g ives n °t the slightest intimation of being pro- ternai inti- duced by anything external to the mind. So far as appears from the sensation itself, it is wholly within the mind itself. So far, there is little difficulty in accepting the view that the senses themselves give us no knowledge of the Sense of outer world. But now we come to the sense of sight. Sight, and shall, perhaps, find the opinion less plausible. Some writers have stoutly insisted that this sense certainly gives us direct cognition of the object seen. The eye, by its very constitution, gives us a larger range of sensations than any of the foregoing senses. Being mobile, it seems to have a larger variety of sensa- tions than the others, and perhaps it does. Still it may not have quite all that it seems to have. By experience and the co-operation of the other senses, we acquire the power to perceive by the eye, not only the color but the form, the size, and many other qualities of a visible object. Color is what ^ ut tne P r0 P er quality that appeals to the eye appeals to is Color. Dr. Hopkins favors the opinion that the eye properly gives only the sensation of color. " Suppose the eye were set in stone and held fixed. . . . Nobody supposes that the eye originally gives form in more than one dimension, — that we see a globe or cube as such. It could then be but a colored surface. HOW ACQUAINTED WITH OUTER WORLD. 25 But under these circumstances, what could then be known of surface or extension? Could the form be anything more than the form of color, and would that be form at all ? I think not." If this be so, then color is the only thing that affects the eye in vision, and that effect is a simple sensation, a state of mind which in itself gives no intimation of externality. In Touch, as it appears to some, externality is obvious. But we are to consider that when we touch a thing, there is generally something besides simple tactual Sense of effect, such as roughness or smoothness, cold touch - or warmth. There is also Pressure. It is true we can con- ceive of simple touch separate from pressure. Something In such case we are affected by the tactual ^effecT*" quality and nothing else. If we can regard Pressure, this alone as the effect of touch, we shall find that we have here, as in the other senses, only the sensation, a state of the mind which intimates nothing separate from itself. We have now examined the operations of all the senses, and have, so far, discovered no way in which the mind or soul gets any knowledge of externality. Sen- Thekno^i- sation does not give it, nor, so far as I can see, nafity not* 61 does it come in connection with the operation throu &h r sense alone, of any or all of the senses. How, then, does it but through o resistance. come t Any spontaneous or instinctive movement from within is certain to be met by some resistance, pressure against, or modification of that movement. It is then that the individual discovers that he is not the only being extant, — that there is something besides and exterior to himself. He has found an outer world, and he is not long in distinguishing it into 26 PSYCHOLOGY. parts and individual objects. This pressure, resistance, Accompanied and modification of his movements is very likely separate' yet ^° ^ e accompanied by Touch, and is yet separate from it. from it. Still, by touch and sight principally, and by the other senses subordinately, he learns that when Sensations certain objects are presented, certain sensations tefnai^b* or states °f niind occur to him. These become jects. signs of the presence and influence upon him of these several objects. We learn these signs and their sig- nificance as we learn the alphabet and the vocabulary of a language ; and thus, by experience and habitual practice, come to refer any sensation to some appropriate external object as its cause. This is Perception. We are not to suppose that this minute analysis takes place in every act of perception. It is one concrete act, just as in reading we do not analyze each word into its letters and syllables, and think of each elemental sound ; but by a glance we compre- hend the word, and sometimes the whole sentence, at once. ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 27 CHAPTER III. ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. It must be understood that in the preceding chapter we have given but a bare outline of the philosophy of Sensation and Perception, and that their relations are not quite so simple as this representation might seem to indicate. Each one of the senses furnishes its very large, diverse, and yet peculiar group of sensations which stand as signs of external facts, the interpretation of which constitutes per- ception. But these become curiously and wondrously complicated from the fact that each sense bor- Each sense a rows from the others. One seems to convey to f r ° r ^°^ r us knowledge which must have been gained only others, by another. Thus I find by touch that a certain object is hard, and that another is soft. The one may be a piece of iron, the other a lump of dough. I observe that there is a difference in their appearance. It is probable that we may need a series of experiments in this line We learn b before we come to recognize the fact that in a experience, large proportion of soft things there is a certain common appearance to the eye, and that in a large proportion of hard things there is a certain other appearance. We soon learn to distinguish these different appearances, and to associate one with the quality of hardness, and the other with that of softness. Henceforth we distinguish by the eye objects as hard and soft, not always so accurately as 28 PSYCHOLOGY. by the touch, and yet for the most part accurately enough for practical purposes. So we say of a certain Sight bor- ^ * K, , J 7 7 , , rowing from appearance that it has a warm look, and. 01 another that it has a cold look. Now warm and cold are not qualities that appeal at all to the eye, but we have noticed many times that this appearance of the sky or clouds is accompanied by the one temperature, and that, by the other ; hence we use these terms, and are seldom wrong in the qualities they symbolize. A barrel has another sound if rapped upon when it is empty than when it is full. Hence it is not necessary Sound bor- to ascertain the fact either by sight or by touchand 0in touch, as the sound will give the information sight. sought. So a mason, if he wishes to find whether a wall is solid, can tell by striking here and there with a hammer, and a carpenter will determine where to drive a nail in a plastered wall which has a perfectly uni- form appearance to the eye, by rapping with his hammer along the surface till he finds a place which gives a dead- ened sound. He knows by this that there is a joist behind the lath. In this way, also, do we recognize roughness and smoothness, flexibility and rigidity, solid and fluid sub- stances, and many others by the eye, where the primary means of distinguishing them is by the touch. Not unfrequently vision has the same effect as phy- sical taste. One is made sick sometimes by the sight of some object which is associated with a nau- rowingfrom seous odor or flavor. So the sight appropriates taste. ag y. g own what j s a matter of judgment, in which, perhaps, several sources of cognition are involved. We learn to estimate distance by the eye. This is gained by a varied process and by considerable experience. We ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 29 see an object with which we are familiar. We easily determine whether it is near by or far off by its Di . , visible appearance. If its outline be clear and termined by distinct, and if it make a certain angle on the rowing from eye, we know it is near by. If the outline be some- * he other , J ' J senses and what dim and indistinct, and if the visual angle faculties. be much smaller than in the other case, we at once decide that it is far off, and we learn to estimate these comparative dis- tances and their measurements by these signs. A butcher or drover who is in the practice of buying cattle by weight, will learn to estimate with marvel- matfd by* * lous approximation to correctness how much an Slght> animal will weigh by simply looking at him. Not only do we learn by the eye what is primarily the product of the other senses, but we very readily appre- hend what is directly the product of no sense, states of We see a blushing cheek, a smiling or frowning j^j^f " the face, a downcast expression; all these tell of eye. certain emotions as plainly as we can learn them through any means whatever. Yet certainly emotions are not matters of sensual observation. It is by this mental co- operation, as we might say, of the senses, this service of one to another, of all to each, that we add immeasurably to the number, variety, and wealth of our per- ceptions. It is probable that our knowledge is crease of our many hundred-fold greater than it would be if t^° s ^ 1 e . d c ge _ by we were dependent on what each sense, operat- erationofthe SGUSGS ing by itself and limited to its own natural powers, would give us. • This very reasoning suggests to us a certain caution respecting the use of our senses, which may also show us a reason why certain indications that our perceptions are not always valid, are not themselves 30 PSYCHOLOGY. trustworthy. In general, we may say that the natural and primary perceptions are always valid. It is monyofour only the acquired perceptions that sometimes when e or?gi. d mislead us. Dr. Wayland relates the story of nai and not a person who, on coining to a certain house where he had an appointment, found the door locked ; but looking up, he saw what appeared to him to be the key of the door, which he proceeded to take down. On reach- ing for the key he found there was none there. It was only the painted figure of the key, so shaded as to make the same impression on the eye as a real key would have done. The question arises : Did not his senses deceive him ? Is not this an instance of invalid perception ? It might appear so. But the latter appearance is no less fal- lacious than the former. The appearance of the key was false ; the appearance of deceit in the sense and percep- tion was also false. Instead of his senses deceiving him, they removed the deception. Instead of his percep- tion apprehending what was not in existence, it was a perception of the real character of the object that set him right and corrected his error. The truth about the matter is, that it was not the primal sense of sight, and the accompanying perception, by which he was misled, but the borrowed or acquired perception, the trans- perception fer from touch to sight, which did the mischief. buuheTri- ^ ne man ^ a( l associated the particular shades marypercep- of color then and there appealing to the sense of sight, with a certain form which can only be primarily known through the sense of touch. As soon as the proper sense was brought into requisition, the error vanished. It is thus also that we are deceived by the appearance ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 31 of objects seen in a fog. By our acquired perceptions, as we have seen, we estimate size by distance, and objects seen distance by the greater or less distinctness of in a fog. outline. In a fog, the objects seem farther off than they really are, and we therefore, from our experience in a clear atmosphere, estimate the size accordingly ; that is, we estimate the size to be greater than it really is. But this is not from the invalidity of natural and primary per- ceptions, but from trusting too implicitly to acquired per- ceptions. Hence it is evident that when our perceptions seem to mislead us, it will generally be found that the error arises, not from our original perceptions, but from those which are acquired. The facility with which, when one sense is destroyed, the other senses acquire means to make up a portion of the deficiency, and the extent to which this can In the de _ be carried, is worthy of our consideration. We structionof . , ,. , „ . one sense the all know how sight supplies the place of hearing remaining in the deaf. Sight, gestures, movements, and oomemore facial expressions, instead of sounds, now be- acute- come symbols of conceptions and thoughts. Not only, thus, does conversation become comparatively easy and rapid between two individuals in the presence of each other, but through the same means, written language is learned, and thus the unfortunate subjects of this depriva- tion are brought into communication with the intelligent and wise in all ages and places. So the blind acquire a vastly quicker and larger range of perceptions by means of hearing and touch. It is wonderful how easily a blind man will distin- Hearing and guish pieces of money on which the impressions tutin/sight" are only slightly different ; how easily he learns in the blind. 32 PSYCHOLOGY. to find his way along streets and lanes, and to houses which he has never seen ; to become familiar with the apartments of a house ; to know a friend by his voice, or by his tread ; to have a thorough understanding of complicated instruments, like pianos and organs, so that he can not only play them, but can tune and repair them, and many other such things. It is related of Laura Bridgman and Julia Brace, both of whom were deaf and blind, that they could distribute the clothes of other inmates of the as}'lum by the smell, and that one, and I presume both, could converse rapidly with the fingers, could read the books printed in raised letters for the blind, and write very intelligibly. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 33 CHAPTER IV. NATURE OF THE KNOWLEDGE ACQUIRED BY SENSE- PERCEPTION. The knowledge acquired by sense-perception is of Individuals and never of Classes. We see a tree, a house, an ox, a mountain. We hear a human voice, a Knowledge bird-song, the bray of a donkey, the roar of ^nTo? the wind, the report of a gun or a cannon. So classes. of the other senses. But let it be carefully noted that we do not think of these several objects as members of classes, though I have used class terms in referring to them. We perceive each of these by itself, and not in any relation whatever to any others as with them constituting groups. How groups or classes are formed will be considered here- after when we come to the Elaborative Faculties. At present we are concerned about Perception and the na- ture of the knowledge it gives. This knowledge is only of one and another single object, and by itself would be of only moderate value. But precisely w hat do we perceive ? It must be remem- bered that we are now considering Perception, and not knowledge. We see an object before us ; we perception instantly know it to be a horse, or a bush, or a considered i 4.V. -u w byitself,and man, or a rock, as the case may be. We com- not as co-op- monly use the term Perception for this act of ^^"other the mind ; but evidently if we analyze any such powers, cognitions we shall find some other power or powers of the 34 PSYCHOLOGY. mind involved. The cognition, undoubtedly, is of the con- crete, but this cognition, as I have intimated, is made up p e tion °^ severa l elements, of which Perception com- oniy one of prises only a part. Perception proper cognizes, o/cognTtion. as & seems to me, only qualities or properties. Cognizes r pj ie mm( j £ W(WS w one instantaneous act, of only quah- ... ties and not which Sensation and Perception are elements, the individual object as a whole. The eye is affected by the color of an object : there is at the same instant a perception of an external cause, and a knowl- edge of the object as colored. The acquired perceptions give, of course, other particulars concerning the body. But there is nothing appealing to the senses but certain qualities. I do not say that nothing else is perceived or known ; because other powers of the mind, as we shall see later, co-operating with the senses in Perception, give us full cognition of the individual object. The qualities which are thus directly cognized by Sense- Perception have been divided into primary and secondary. Primary and The primary are those which necessarily enter secondary ^ llto our no ^ on f ma tter ; we cannot conceive qualities of matter. of a body which does not possess them. Exten- sion, divisibility, figure, and solidity are some of these. I have spoken of these as a class of the qualities affecting the senses. We are told by some writers that these do not in strict propriety affect the senses at all. They are, perhaps, all implied in the first, namely, extension; and extension is by some good authorities regarded as only the necessary quality attaching to all body, that it must occupy space. This, it is said, is not given by Perception, but by the Pure Reason, by the very constitution of the mind. Others, however, take a different view of the SENSE-PERCEPTION. 35 subject, and hold that extension and figure, etc., are given by sight. The secondary qualities are those which are not necessary to our conception of matter, and yet by means of which we are variously affected. Such are smell, taste, sound, color, roughness, smoothness, etc. We can conceive of a body that is not red or yellow ; of one that is wanting in a particular odor, or in any odor at all ; that is not smooth ; but we cannot conceive of a body that does not occupy space, or that does not have some kind of shape. It is true we speak of " shapeless masses," but that is a figur- ative expression, meaning probably that the shape has no name. Sir William Hamilton divides the qualities of matter into three classes : first, primary ; second, secundo-primary ; third, secondary. The primary are objective, sir William not subjective, not sensations proper, but per- Hamilton's cepts. The secundo-primary are both objective qualities. and subjective, percepts proper, and sensations proper. The secondary are subjective, not objective, sensations proper. The primary qualities are all deduced from the two necessary ideas of occupying space, and p r i mary being contained in space. Thus we have, first, qualities, extension, divisibility, size, density, and figure ; secondly, incompressibility absolute, mobility, situation. The secundo-primary are first, such as result from gravi- tation, as heavy and light ; second, such as are implied in cohesion, as hard or soft, fluid or firm, tough gecundo- or brittle, rough or smooth, etc. ; third, from primary, repulsion result compressible and incompressible, resilient or irresilient; fourth, from inertia we have movable and immovable. 36 PSYCHOLOGY. The secondary qualities are subjective affections rather than qualities, in the strict sense ; that is, they are only qualities in the sense that they refer to certain characteristics in bodies which are capable of producing the affection of which we are conscious in our- selves. Such are color, sound, flavor, odor, smoothness, and all the various sensations of physical pleasure or pain which are caused by the peculiarity of bodies. Thus, as has before been noticed in the case of what we call hear- ing music, we are conscious of a certain state of mind. We learn by experience to refer this state of mind to some outward instrument, or some human voice, as its cause. It is not at all likely that the external object is itself, or that it has in it anything which is identical with, or at all resembles, this state of mind. Nevertheless we have come to believe unhesitatingly that there is some- thing which corresponds to it, and we learn to locate it unerringly. A TTENTION. 37 CHAPTER V. ATTENTION. Up to this point the soul has been regarded as scarcely more than the passive recipient of impressions made upon it, and the spontaneous interpreter of these The mind ac- impressions. But the mind is an active power, merelypai-* and in the acquisition of knowledge it must be sive. continually putting forth its energies. It is true, the mind must be first affected before it comes into action. But to the calls to action it ordinarily responds with great readiness. When any new state of mind ex- Meaning of ists, Attention is aroused. By this we mean a attention, voluntary directing of the energy of the mind towards an object or act. It has not usually been treated as a distinct faculty, but as a general power of the mind subsidiary to all the faculties. As intimated, it implies action, and is a matter of volition. In the great mass of objects and qual- ities that come under our observations, we are scarcely, or perhaps not at all, conscious of giving any attention. We pass along the street ; we walk without thought, and apparently automatically. That is, the walking seems to do itself. Still we are really paying more attention to our steps than we seem to be. If there is an unexpected obstacle, or a muddy spot, or a rough place, how quickly we observe it, and how readily avoid it, as if we had been on the alert all the while. So during the walk, if in a 38 PSYCHOLOGY. great city thoroughfare, we meet hundreds of men and women, many of whom we do not seem to see, yet if one of our acquaintances is in the crowd, the readiness with which we recognize him shows that we have been paying some sort of attention to faces all the time. There is a great variety in the degrees of attention which we give to a subject. Sometimes, as has been shown, Difference in tliere is Vei T little ' aild ^ et enough to reCOg- the degrees nize at once any change in the general view, or of attention. ,.,.., , . . TT7 . any unusual individual in a series. We some- times, as Dr. Upham says, judge of the degree of atten- tion paid to an object by the length of time one devotes to it. But, as he also says, it is more likely to be the case that we give the more time because our attention is aroused. There are many people who find it very difficult to fix their attention for any length of time on any one thing, Difficulties especially if they have to depend on mere force offixing of will. Many others find no difficulty in giv- ing their attention, if the subject interests them sufficiently. The causes of this interest are various ; cu- riosity, hope of good news, or even fear of bad news, pleasure in the subject itself, expectation of result in a scientific experiment, and a hundred others. Some per- sons become so absorbed that everything else vanishes from the mind, and the whole force of the soul bends itself to one point. Mathematicians have been known to solve the most abstruse and complicated problems with every variety and character of disturbance about them. " The man who can fix his attention, without allow- ing it a single excursion for five consecutive minutes, with or without the schools, is a liberally educated man." 1 1 Superintendent Northrup. A TTENTION. 39 It is a question which has been much discussed, whether the mind can attend to more than one thing at a time. Some have strenuously maintained the nega- c nth • d tive. At one time I so held. But I am now attend to inclined to the opinion that we may have more one thing at than one object of thought at a given instant. a time ? It is no doubt true that what sometimes seems to be the presence of two or more simultaneous ideas, is only their rapid alternation. The intense quickness with which the mind acts mav leave intervals too small to be „ J Apparently discerned, and what appears to be a mere punc- simultaneous turn temporis may yet be capable of several rapid aiter- divisions. It might thus appear possible that natlon - by intensely rapid movement or change the mind may go from one of these infinitesimal intervals to another, or from the thought occurring in one to that in another, in such a way as to make several mental acts appear as one. But Sir William Hamilton seems to have made it toler- ably clear that the mind must sometimes attend to more than one thing at a time, and that without this Hamilton's view of the subject it is impossible to explain views. many phenomena. Thus, for instance, where anything is made up of small parts which must be combined by an action, of the mind, as in a picture, these several points must be taken in simultaneously, or the effect is not pro- duced. If it is said we take them ail at a time, one disappearing as another appears, and in bringing them together we depend on memory, this would only shift the difficulty. It would be just as much a case of atten- tion to two things if one of the things were a representa- tion of memory as if they were both presentations of 40 PSYCHOLOGY. outward or of inward perceptions. It would also, as Harmony in Hamilton thinks, be impossible to comprehend music. harmony in music if only one sound were pres- ent to the mind in the same indivisible instant of time ; since harmony involves a multiplicity of different tones. If we resort to memory for an explanation, we have the same difficulty as pointed out just now in the case of the picture, only more palpable here. In short, we shall find that in every case in which judgment, or even comparison, is called for — and there are few acts of the mind in which this is not the case — there must be two objects or ideas present at the same time. The question arises as to how many things the mind can attend to at the same time. Sir William Hamilton and others limit the number to about six as the ex- How many m _ , -, ■, i • • , things can treme limit. It is probable that it is only in tend to at rare cases of rare minds that the attention can once ? be so much diffused. It is probable that it can be bestowed upon two or three, and sometimes four things simultaneously. But it is admitted by those who hold this doctrine that the intensity of the attention is inversely as the number of objects, — that it would be impossible to bestow the same amount of attention upon each of three or four objects simultaneously present as upon one of them by itself. There are many illustrations, both of power of concen- tration which some men have possessed, and of the possible Remarkable plurality of simultaneous objects of attention, instances of It is said that Julius Caesar, while writing a des- concentra- patch, could at the same time dictate four others tion " to his secretaries, and if he did not write himself, could dictate seven letters at once. But this was before A TTENTION. 41 the invention of the modern shorthand ! Napoleon had the same wonderful power of directing his whole mental energy to one point, and of rapidly shifting it to another. I have spoken of attention as being voluntary, and there- fore involving acts of the will. This, perhaps, needs con- siderable modification. There are undoubtedly Attention as very many instances in which attention is invol- acts ofthe untary, when it is compelled sometimes contrary wil1 - to the desire of the individual. A vivid flash of lightning, the sudden discharge of a gun near one, any extraordinary spectacle, either attractive by its sometimes beauty, or repulsive by its deformity, any un- com P elled - natural, or perilous, or magnificent, or revolting, object of vision, or event, is likely to command the attention. For the most part, however, the attention, even when not the result of a direct effort of the will, is so far under the control of the will that it may be withheld But for the from an object towards which it would other- deTcontroiof wise spontaneously go forth. But there is also the will. a kind of attention which is the direct product of the will. The mind is sometimes compelled by itself to attend to things to which it is naturally averse. Here there is a positive effort of the mind for this purpose. Only minds of unusual power can put forth this effort in certain cases for any considerable length of time. Hamilton has the following concerning the three degrees or kinds of attention : " The first is a mere vital and irre- sistible act ; the second, an act determined by TT .,, , J Hamiltons desire, which, though involuntary, may be re- three degrees sisted by our will ; the third, an act determined by deliberate volition.'" We have all along been considering attention as the con- 42 PSYCHOLOGY. centration of the mind on some particular object, whether external or internal. Of course it has to do with sense- perception only as the object is external. Some writers have given two different names to the exercise of this power, Reflection as according as it was directed to objects within or from n a g tten h . ed without ; in the former case calling it Attention, tion. and in the latter Reflection. Others have used the general term Attention in both cases, and have called it Reflection when its objects were internal, and Observation when they were external. But there is no uniformity of usage, and the general term Attention is used for this whole action of the mind, though Reflection, I think, is rarely used, except when we turn our special attention to ourselves ; while Observation is commonly used with refer- ence to both the objective and subjective world. We shall find in other departments of the intellect abundant oppor- tunities for attention in the world of thought, as well as in that of sense. THE INNER-SENSE. 43 CHAPTER VI. THE INNER-SENSE. The cognitions and the phenomena we have been con- sidering in the previous chapters are those which pertain to the world external to the soul, the world with which we come into communication through the senses. There is another group of cognitions and phenomena internal totally different from these. The phenomena Phenomena, of the soul itself are just as palpable, if not so familiar to the individual, as those of the external world. We have sensations, perceptions, various forms of mental activity, all kinds of pleasures and pains, hope and fear, desire and aversion, pity, contempt, anger, joy and sorrow. We have preferences and choices, determinations and volitions. No one disputes that we know all these phenomena quite as well as, perhaps we may say better than, we know anything in the external world. It is also clear that we Knownnot b y do not know them through the means by which the same we cognize the latter. We cannot hear, touch, know exter- see, smell, or taste a thought or a feeling or a na t ings " volition. None of the five senses, nor all of them combined, can apprehend a joy or a sorrow of the soul. They are not necessary cognitions which are given by the constitu tion of the mind itself upon the proper occasions. There must be, then, some other means by which we come into possession of this knowledge. There is less disagreement among writers concerning 44 PSYCHOLOGY. the fact and character of this faculty and its functions, The name of than about the name. The term popularly used this faculty, f or this faculty is Consciousness, and this has so strong a position in the custom of speakers and writers that it is hard to dislodge it. Still there are very few authori- This a re- ties who do not freely admit that this is a re- «?"iS!i««t stricted use of the term, and that it has a wider of conscious- ' ness. meaning than is here implied. Clearly enough Consciousness is not confined to any one kind of knowledge, or to any one group of ideas. It has to do with all knowl- edge, and, indeed, with all the activities and susceptibilities of the mind. Another term which has been given is Self-Consciousness. This, while avoiding a part of the inconsistency involved ,,„ ,„ in the preceding term, is still objectionable, from Self-con- , j. , ,-f . , , » , - sciousness" the tact that Consciousness, whether of sell or criticised. £ no t- se lf, is not the direct organ or faculty of any original knowledge, but is the concomitant of all The concomi- knowledge and all other mental operations. We tantofaii are conscious of no kind of knowledge, only as and all men- that knowledge is given by its appropriate organ, tai states. an( j ^ mus t logically, at least, be given through some other organ before it is present in consciousness. Hence we are not conscious of the operations of our minds, except as we know these in some other manner than by consciousness itself. Another name for this faculty is Internal Perception. This seems to me a very suitable term, and expresses the function "internal °^ the faculty very well, only that certain emi- perception." nen £ authorities strenuously object to the use of the term perception in relation to any knowledge, ex- cept that received from the external world. I do not see THE INNER-SENSE. 45 the full force of this objection ; still, as very few make use of this designation, it must for the present be left in abeyance. The term to which there is the least exception appears to be the Inner-Sense. This is not satisfactory, for the reason that it gives us only the name of the faculty, and not of the function it possesses. It has sense "the no corresponding adjective. As a sort of J^*^ e {^ t antithesis to sense-perception, which is some- not wholly times called the outer-sense, it will answer per- haps better than any other which has as yet been devised. Of this faculty it may be said, in the first place, that within its sphere it is quite as authoritative as sense-per- ception. If there be any difference between the of the highest two in this respect, it is in favor of the former, authority, because, as already intimated, even in perception our sen- sations as subjective states are to be tested by the Inner- Sense. If this gives us any reason to doubt concerning the sensation, the doubt will affect the character of our percep- tion. If we can have no absolute certainty from this source, we can have it nowhere. It is our sole reliance The sole reii- in almost the whole study of Psychology. The ance in psy- question of the existence and character of the soul's powers and susceptibilities are to be determined by this faculty. Much of what we have said concerning Attention applies to this faculty and its processes. As in sense-perception, so here, the mind can concentrate itself on a single Relation to psychical operation or state, and it is by this attention, operation protracted for a longer or shorter time that some of the most important of mental problems have been solved. The philosophical use of this faculty is one that comes by culture, and it may be increased to a very great extent. 46 PSYCHOLOGY. It is a question of some importance as to whether the Inner-Sense takes cognizance of all the operations of the mind. This is not the same as whether we are Does the in- . „ .. . . , , ner-sense conscious oi all out knowledge, since we make a take cogm- definite distinction between Consciousness in its zance of all our mental scientific meaning, and the Inner-Sense. There states ? are good authorities on both sides of the ques- tion. There are also facts which seem to bear in both directions. We take the familiar example which almost every person so readily understands. We sit in a room Sensations reading, with no disturbing influence ; the clock but noTob- strikes ; we take not the slightest note ; as we served. sa y, it does not attract our attention ; appar- ently it does not affect our mind; the Inner-Sense gives no intimation of any change. Still it is clearly possible that the faculty did take note of the phenomenon. We cannot doubt that the sensation of sound was produced within the mind. To do so would be to deny that the same cause under the same circumstances always produces the same effect. Did, then, the Inner-Sense for some reason fail to cognize the sensation ? That it did not, is evident from the fact that when by any means the attention is called to the fact, not too long afterwards, there is frequently a vague and yet not a really doubtful recollection that bettering 01 " the clock did strike, and that we heard it ; but that the m- as our attention was only feebly called towards does cognize it, and as the duration of the memory is propor- not a partic°u- S tioned to the intensity of the attention, it was lariy almost immediately forgotten. That is the rea- notice. , . . . , son why it is only in the cases where the subse- quent attention is called very quickly after the event that there is even a vague recollection. Nearly the same thing THE INNER-SENSE. 47 is true here as in the case of Perception (see pp. 37, 38), where I showed that though it would be naturally pre- sumed that no perception had taken place, yet by com- parison with other mental facts we found that such must have been the fact. It is no doubt true that in the action both of the outer and of the inner sense there is actual cognition in many instances when a superficial considera- tion would indicate there was none. But whether this is so in all cases, is not quite so clear. It is probable, on the whole, that there are states of the mind which are not cognized by the Inner-Sense, but it is also probable that these are not proper objects of knowledge ; just as there are conditions of som e states external objects exposed to our senses, which we °£* cognized do not perceive. These may be passive states, by the inner- perhaps of potentiality, not active nor actual in- stances of knowing or feeling or willing, of which we are not aware. Take as a single case, memory — what Ham- ilton calls the retentive element of this faculty. The knowledge of previous facts is said to be retained in the mind. But how retained ? It may be that for weeks or months they are not in the mind in the sense of actual knowledge. But the mind has such a relation to them that they may be reproduced when the necessary condi- tions arise. Then the Inner-Sense cognizes this reminis- cent action. Now, there may have been a state of mind indicated by the expression " retained in the mind, 1 ' of which the Inner-Sense took no note, because it was not a proper object of knowledge. I think there is no act of real knowledge in the mind which is not itself cognized by this faculty. Whether there are other active states of which it is not cognizant, I should hesitate to assert or deny. 48 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER VII. CONSCIOUSNESS. This term, as popularly accepted, and as used by many writers, lias already been briefly discussed. It has been Popular and seen that, as thus used, it symbolizes only a £?of°t£e iCal sma11 P art of what is implied in its complete term. meaning. It no doubt comprises a knowledge of the operations of the soul, but only as it comprises a knowledge of the material world. In neither case does it give these cognitions by itself alone, but only as they are immediately or mediately known in some other way. There is much difference of opinion among philosophers on this subject. Scarcely any two agree in their treat- Different ment of it, while some are either inconsistent views of in their own statements concerning it, or vague and unsatisfactory. Indeed, it would be difficult to find a writer on this subject who has been thoroughly consistent with himself. " "Whatever Consciousness may be, there are three char- acteristics attributed to it by common consent, and these it must have. The first is, as its etymology, Three char- ... acteristics of con-scio, implies, it can never be alone. It must admitt°ed S by SS a ^ wa y s accompany some other operation of the nearly all mind, and does in fact equally accompany all mental operations. The second characteristic is that it must be infallible. It must be something that never CONSCIOUSNESS. 49 does or can deceive us. In this all are agreed, for, if our consciousness can deceive us, there is nothing between us and universal scepticism. The third characteristic is that consciousness is not a separate faculty. A separate faculty has its own domain, and is subject to the will. It is not a faculty, but is involuntary ; it is alike in all the race, and is a necessary concomitant with all mental acts of which we know anything. It has an equal and common relation with all the faculties." 1 The formula of those who give consciousness the nar- rower meaning is, "I know that I know." Sir William Hamilton says that consciousness differs from The f ormu i a knowledge in this, that in knowledge we know, of conscious- , . ° . , ,, , , nessinthe and m consciousness we know that we know, narrower But if there is need of a separate power to sense> know that Ave know, we might need an additional power to know that we know that we know, and so on objection to ad infinitum. Doubtless we have the fullest this formula. assurance possible of our knowledge in the fact that we really know, and in the very act of knowing. Moreover, there is no more need of consciousness to assure us of the knowledge that we know, than of the knowledge that we enjoy and suffer, or that we propose and determine. This is universally admitted. It is also admitted that there is just as much need of such a power to assure us of the knowledge we have of external things, as of the Hamilton's operations of our minds. Sir William Hamilton doctrine that W& 3X6 con* goes further, and asserts that we are not only sciousofail conscious of this outward and inward knowl- thatVe^ edge, but that we are also conscious of the know - things known, as well as of the fact of knowing them. In 1 President Hopkins : Outline Study of Man. 50 PSYCHOLOGY. this way he gets the evidence of consciousness for the reality of an external world. I perceive a tree ; I am conscious not only of the perception, but I am also conscious of the tree. But, as Dr. Hopkins remarks, u This is to confound con- sciousness with perception." Any one who would deny the authority of perception would be pretty likely to deny the authority of consciousness. What, then, is Consciousness? Dr. Hopkins again comes to our aid with the most unexceptionable definition I have Dr. Hopkins's seen. According to him, consciousness is " the definition. knowledge of the mind of itself as the permanent and indivisible subject of its own operations, ," 1 This will give The proper us the formula of consciousness, not " I know formula. that I know," but, " I know that it is I that know, and I know that it is the same I that knows, that also feels and wills.' 1 " This knowledge of self as the subject and centre of mental operations will have no refer- ence to the validity or trustworthiness of those operations. We have our faculties. We know by perception, we know by memory. We know immediately, we know mediately ; but if our faculty of knowledge, whatever it be, does not suffice to itself, it cannot be supplemented by conscious- ness. That has another field. It has another sphere. Its Physical office is to bind all the operations of the mind analogy. j n t unity. It does for the mind just what the cellular tissue does for the body. . . . The cellular mem- brane is found in connection with every part of the body. It infolds, for instance, each fibre of the muscles. It is never by itself. It always accompanies something else, and is for the sake of something else ; and it gives unity to the body. And consciousness does the same thing for 1 Outline Study of Man. CONSCIOUSNESS. 51 the mind. It is, as it were, its cellular membrane, com- bining everything connected with it into unity ; A uni f y i ng never found by itself, but always present in power, connection with every other mental operation. Hence, as I said, it is not a faculty. It is not under the i c ! -i-i T • i • i Not under control oi the will. It is not anything that control of comes to us in sense or degree through the ope- the wllL ration of the will. We have it from the beginning, we have it by necessity ; one man has it as much as another." 1 This completes what is essential on the subject of the Presentative Faculty. It gives us two groups of cogni- tions : 1. Those that come by Sense-Perception, and 2. Those that are given by the Inner-Sense. The former comprise our knowledge of the external world, or world of matter ; and the latter, what we know of the internal world, or world of mind and soul. I have also discussed the topics of Attention and Consciousness, as being closely, though not exclusively, related to these faculties. 1 Outline Study of Man. PART II. THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY. CHAPTER I. THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY DESCRIBED. We have been hitherto occupied with Presentative Cognitions, or cognitions occasioned by the direct presenta- tion of phenomena to the mind. These phenomena, we have seen, are of two classes, physical or material, and mental or psychical. They are also given to us through two sets of faculties ; namely, Sense-Perception, and the Inner-Sense. There are many cognitions with which the mind is largely conversant, which come to us through other means than those just described. Some of these are Eecurrent recurrent ideas or conceptions, cognitions re- ideas and peated after having been previously present to the mind. Hence they are said to be re-presented, and the power through which they are thus brought back is called the Representative Faculty. It is defined by Dr. Thig Porter, as " the power to recall, represent, and of the mind reknow objects which have been previously known or experienced in the soul." 1 This power to re- produce is evidently a power of the mind itself, and hence, as Dr. Porter says, it essentially involves a Not re- creative or self-active power. It will be readily Material* inferred that this power is not limited to the phenomena, reproduction of sensible or material objects, but embraces as well the acts and products and experiences of the mind itself. 1 The Human Intellect. 55 56 PSYCHOLOGY. Dr. Hopkins illustrates this tendency to reappearance, of objects once known to the mind, by the figure of a Dr. Hop- mental current perpetually flowing towards the ^mental mind. It is true that this current is not made current." up exclusively of ideas previously in the mind, since as both the outer and inner senses are active, there will be new cognitions which present themselves along with the representative cognitions. But these latter ideas cannot be excluded in our waking hours, and probably not even when we are asleep. They press somewhat impera- tively upon the mind and must be recognized in greater or smaller degree. We may modify the current, we may so treat the cognitions which at any given moment offer themselves, that they shall suggest others than those which would have come in had the train not been interfered with ; but the current cannot be stopped. An important question here is, whether there are any laws governing this current, or whether the thoughts and L _ conceptions returning to the mind come at hap- erningthis hazard and in no discernible order. Clearly enough they do not come by mere chance, but in a regularly ordered way, and under the direction of laws which it is not difficult to determine. This brings us to the subject of the next chapter. LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 57 CHAPTER II. LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. Says Dr. Hickok, " The representatives of former ob- jects of consciousness, when they have fallen, as it were, into the memory, do not lie in this common Dr. Hickok's mental receptacle separately. They are as clus- ^dmustra- ters on the vine, attached one to another by tion. some law of connection peculiar to the case, and which has its general determination for all minds, and its partic- ular modifications for some minds. When one is called up in recollection it does not, therefore, come up singly, but brings the whole cluster along with it. This action of the mind to attach its representatives in the memory one to another is called Association, and may include a number of different modes in which such attachments are formed." 1 Isaac Taylor thus defines Association of Ideas : " If several thoughts, or ideas, or feelings have been in the mind at the same time, afterwards, if one of Definition by these thoughts returns to the mind, some or Isaac Taylor, all of them will frequently return with it. This is called Association of Ideas." 2 In other words, the thought or idea that is now in your mind is there probably because a mo- ment ago another thought was there which was some way associated with this ; and the thought which will be in your mind a moment hence will probably be there because of its association with the one now in your mind. I say ! Science of the Mind. 2 Elements of Thought. 58 PSYCHOLOGY. probably, because some idea may have been presented through the senses or the Inner-Sense, and thus is not rep- resentative. But aside from ideas newly presented, every- "Sugges- thing that comes back to the mind is suggested, tion." as we sa y 5 by S ome preceding idea. We fre- quently ask ourselves, " What made me think of that ? " plainly implying that we are settled in the opinion that something, and clearly something just previously in the mind, was the occasion of the representation of the thought in question. The Laws of Association are of two kinds, Primary and Secondary. Of the former, the first in order is Contiguity of Place. If, in a certain place, a piece of of laws of special good fortune befalls me, or a pain- association. M accident occurS) i s h a n be very likely to recall that incident or experience whenever I revisit that Contiguity of place- This is the reason why special interest P lace - attaches to certain places as being associated with events, though not at all interesting in themselves. Plymouth Rock and its immediate surroundings are not in themselves particularly attractive, but thousands every year are drawn to the spot because of the events which took place there two hundred and seventy years ago. The field of Waterloo is a fine piece of agricultural country, which, when I saw it, was covered with bounteous crops, but having nothing of interest in itself to distinguish it from thousands of other farming regions of similar extent. But it is visited by multitudes who associate it with one of the most important events in modern history. It is because of this principle in our constitution that we like to visit the homes of great men of the past. The home of Washington, at Mount Vernon ; the house in which Goethe LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 59 was born in Frankfort; the place where John Huss lodged during- his attendance on the Council of Con- ... . Interest in stance ; the old, and, m itself, very unattractive the homes of cottage where Shakespeare first saw the light, & reatmen - — ■ all these are cherished with the prof oundest interest by multitudes of persons. The second of these principles of Association is that of Time. Whenever we observe two events transpiring at the same time, and afterwards recall one of them, we are very likely to think of the other. When we meet two persons at the same time, especially if they are somewhat important persons, and perhaps strangers, or partially so to us, and afterwards see one of them alone, we are almost sure to think of the other. It is this prin- ciple that causes us to recall persons and events why we re- in groups. If in our reading we come across ca ^P6 rs ° ns the name of Pericles, instantly there arise in our in groups, minds not only such names as Socrates, Plato, Phidias, Sophocles, Euripides, Themistocles, Aspasia, and Cleon, but many wonderful events of that remarkable period, as well as the glory and grandeur of the famous city where these persons dwelt, and where the events transpired. Hence the value to the student in history, of importance the habit of fixing in his mind certain great * othestu - o _ to dent of events and personages, each of which is the history. centre of other events and personages which naturally associate themselves with these. Such a habit will give not only facility but pleasure to the pursuit of this study. The third of these principles is that of Resemblance. When we cognize an object or person or event of -, . t , . t , n ; n , . Eesemblance. any kind which resembles another, we are apt im- mediately to think of that other. TPhis resemblance may 60 PSYCHOLOGY. be merely physical ; or it may be mental and moral, that is, of character ; or it may be a resemblance of relations instead of qualities and appearances. It is in this way Formation tna * we sometimes form types. We say of a re- of types. markable military chieftain, that he is the Napo- leon of his age ; or of an unselfish and patriotic leader of his people, that he is the Washington of such a nation ; or of a certain cataract, that it is a miniature Niagara. This principle is largely effective in metaphor and simile, and other tropical and poetic representations in literature. The fourth principle is that of Contrast. This, though the opposite of resemblance, is closely allied to it as a sug- gestive principle. We frequently find an idea which calls up one altogether contrary to it. If we are suffering from cold, we often think of the enjoy- ment of comfortable warmth. A perception of some de- formity leads to the contemplation of objects of beauty. I recollect once hearing a company of singers who were giv- ing an exhibition, and whose music was quite otherwise than attractive or inspiring. I was forcibly reminded of a musical service to which I had not long before listened in the Dresden Cathedral, which was delightful and grand beyond all description. Contrast as suggestive of ideas may be, like that of resemblance, of the outward appearance, or of inward dispositions, or of consequences and results. Another principle is that of Cause and Effect. These terms are correlative, and, as such, imply each other. It Cause and ^ s one °^ the most obvious of our mental charac- effect. teristics, when an event occurs, to inquire the cause, spontaneously and intuitively assuming that there must be a cause. The veriest child is always asking ivhy this and that came to pass ; that is, inquiring for the cause, LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 61 if it be not obvious. So, too, if we observe any manifes- tation of power, any conspicuous activity, we Cause _ naturally think of the effect. Especially is this s ests effect, true when we are familiarly acquainted with the causes or effects of certain observed phenomena. One suggests the other as inevitably as one thing follows another in any naturally arranged order of things. It is in this way that many trains of thought go on in our minds. I see, for instance, in a list of names, that of Martin Luther. I im- mediately think of the vast series of consequences which followed from his personal influence, the historical events which resulted from his action, the mighty changes wrought in the past, and still in progress. Or I may go back and readily call up the causes which operated to produce this man and fashion his career, and to call forth his reforma- tory efforts. So of a thousand other incidents in history. Means and End form another pair of correlatives in thinking of one of which the other is liable to come up in the mind. To think of a locomotive without Means and associating it with the moving of a train of end - cars, of a dam without the detention of water to form a head or power, or to conceive of a foundation aside from the edifice resting upon it, is scarcely possible. These six principles of Association appear to be suffi- cient to account for all the phenomena involved. Certain writers have added others, as follows: Objects These prin- or events produced by the same power suggest association one another and the power concerned. The sufficient to n it account for sign and the thing signified are so closely asso- all the phe- ciated in the mind that ideas of the one are Je^esenta- likely to be followed by those of the other, and tion - vice versa. Objects accidentally designated by the same 62 PSYCHOLOGY. sound operate in the same way, and thus the amuse- ment that many persons get out of the not very re- fined practice of punning. But probably each of these latter principles can be brought under one or another of those previously given. On the other hand it duction of" has been claimed that these principles can be principles reduced to a smaller number than those given to a smaller in detail. A considerable portion of the writ- ers on Psychology agree in putting them all in three groups ; namely, Time and Place, Cause and Effect, Resemblance and Contrast. Others have reduced them to two : Affinity and Simultaneity. Some high authorities teach us that they may all be comprehended under one ; namely, the law of Redintegration. This is expressed in the formula that " a part of a mental state tends to bring back and restore all the parts that compose it." Dr. Por- Dr. Porter's ter, while admitting that most of the princi- objection. pi es f association which we have spoken of as treated separately can be brought under this law of Red- integration, yet shows that it is at least exceedingly doubtful in some cases. For instance, in the case of resemblance, the parts which are assumed as parts of the same whole are not identical parts, but similar parts, and hence will not allow oi Redintegration. As, for instance, when we see a horse, and then on seeing another horse we observe some feature in the latter which resembles a corre- sponding feature in the former. This calls up the horse previously seen. But that which calls up this absent ob- ject is not some part of it, but a resemblance of that part, which semblance is yet a part of another and not of the • same. Dr. Porter proposes to bring these principles all under LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 63 one law of another kind, which he thus states : " The mind tends to act again more readily in a man- ner or form which is similar to any in which it the mind to has acted before, in any defined exertion of its act .J nawa y J _ _ similar to a energy." This statement is obviously true, but former ac- it is doubtful if it accounts for all the phenom- ena of association. For instance, as Dr. Hopkins says, " I see in it no more reason why, if I pass the place where I met a friend yesterday, I should think of him Dr Ho _ then and there, than at any other time and place, kms's b- If the tendency be there, independent of circum- J c lon ' stances, it would be as likely to show itself at one time as another; but if it depends on circumstances, we are thrown back upon the original law, having simply that and whatever tendency may be implied in our having a representative faculty at all." We have so far been speaking of the Primary Principles of Association. There are also Secondary Principles. Ac- cording to these, ideas and objects tend to sug- secondary gest one another in proportion as the following ofTssocia- conditions exist. 1. The vividness with which tion - objects are presented to the mind affects the readiness of their recurrence. Some events possess little or no inter- est for us. These would not be readily repro- vividness of duced. Others, as a piece of unexpected good ""g^. 1 ^ news, or some startling phenomena, come back tion. more easily and more clearly. How often do we hear persons, describing some unusually exciting occurrence or very impressive event, say, " I shall never forget it so long as I live ! " 2. Events more recent are more apt to return to the mind. Thus what we have seen or heard within a day or 64 PSYCHOLOGY. two is more likely to recur to us than the same kinds of Recent events which took place six months or a year events. a g 0> This and the preceding principle, however, it will easily be seen, modify each other. The greater vividness often makes up for the lapse of time, and so sometimes an occurrence of yesterday is forgotten where Why aged one °f a month or a year ago is distinctly re- persons re- called. It is in this way that we account for call events J ■,■,.-, of their the fact that aged persons recall with remarka- notthose 1 D ^ e distinctness experiences of fifty or sixty more recent. y ears ago, while they are totally oblivious of events of the same importance which transpired within a month or even a week. The reason of this is that in our earlier years our minds are more impressible, while in old age both our faculties and our susceptibilities become dulled and the impression of the same event is vastly less in the latter case than it would have been in the former. 3. Frequent repetition of an experience, whether of observation or of some subjective action tends to promote Frequent its easy recurrence. This is the reason why it repetition. ^ s profitable for young pupils to go over their tasks frequently in preparation for their recitations, and why reviews are essential in order to prepare one for examinations. 4. Peculiarities of mental character have much to do with the readiness or otherwise with which certain pre- Pe li it'es v i° us states of the mind reappear. We are of mental differently constituted, and that, too, in many respects. Some have an aptitude for mathemat- ical studies, others have a taste for philosophy and science, others still are characterized by predominance of aesthetic sentiment, and others tend towards the practical. It is LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 65 said of one man who had read Milton's " Paradise Lost," that he didn't think it of much value, as it proved nothing. Wordsworth says, — " To me, the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears." While of the clown the same poet says, — " A primrose by a river's brim, A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more." We can readily see that with minds differing so widely and so variously in predispositions, tastes, and aptitudes, there must be a correspondingly wide difference in the character of the associations, and consequently of the mental current. 5. In general, whatever tends to fix the attention, whether in any of the ways previously mentioned, or in . er any other way, will affect the order and deter- to fix the , , ,. , , . attention, mine the manner ot representation. We can by no means always trace the causes of succes- sive suggestions by which any given subject reappears in the mind at a given time. We frequently find Difficult to ourselves dwelling on a topic, and we are some- ^JL** £> . causes of how led to ask ourselves, " How did we come to suggestions, think of this ? " It may be that by careful effort we are able to discern the occasion of its coming, and that, too, when at first it may appear to have come causelessly. But in other cases, search as diligently as we may, we cannot de- tect the slightest connection between the present thought and any previous one. This probably arises from the fact that the subject which suggested the one noticed was too unimportant or evanescent to attract the attention, and be retained by the memory, though sufficient to form a connect- ing link in the series. It vanished from the mind as soon GQ PSYCHOLOGY. as it arose, and was quickly crowded out of consciousness by thoughts of greater importance. Sir William Hamilton, as we have seen, would regard many of these links as men- tal acts or states of which we are unconscious. But this seems hardly necessary. We have been speaking of these principles of Association as Laws, — natural laws, — and as such there must be in „,, ' them a large element of necessitv. So far as These prin- o J cipiss are this is the case, the order of our thoughts in representation is not subject to the free action of the mind. Still we are conscious of a power at least partially determining their order. It therefore becomes How far and a matter of some interest to inquire how far in what man- anc [ ^ n w ] ia t manner the mind, can influence ner can the soul influence the order of representation. In the first place, represent- ^ can have no direct influence. Obviously tion? enough the mind cannot choose what idea or object shall present or represent itself to the mind, for the simple reason that such choice cannot be made unless the objects among which the choice is to be made are already present to the mind. Hence the order must be determined previously by some other power than that of the mind. There are natural laws in accordance with which the repre- sentation takes place, and there are causes operating which belong to our constitution, and which are not implied in the voluntary action of the mind. Still, the mind has a certain power over the current or train of thought, affecting it not directly, but indii'ectly. The mind has While certain thoughts will, independently of an indirect the mind's action, present themselves, it is com- troi or modi- petent for the mind to meet them at the thresh- fication. ]^ an( i g,^ ve ^ s attention to certain of these LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 67 rather than others, and so detain some for special consid- eration, while others pass on into oblivion. By thus detaining a certain idea and looking at it more particularly, this very process may call up new objects and trains of thought, which would never have come but for this volun- tary action of the mind. Thus there may, in the natural order, occur to me a thought of Bunker Hill ; this may suggest to me the monument there, and this, Webster's ora- tion at the laying of the corner-stone, and this the career of the great orator and statesman, and this lead off to other orators and men of powerful intellect. Or I may detain the idea of the first suggestion instead of letting my mind run on spontaneously, and may by force of will compel my- self to attend to the event the monument was designed to commemorate, the fierce battle, the encouragement which the stubborn and effective resistance gave men in defeat, and thus follow the whole history of the war, or any portion of it, till some other incident presents itself upon which I may think fit to dwell. In this way we may come to have great control over our thoughts, and turn them to higher or lower meditations, as we please. Of course, to be always pursuing a profitable and wholesome Effort and line of thought requires effort and much culture, discipline but we so fully recognize this as practicable that do^b^ef- we do not hesitate to condemn a man who lets fectuall y- his mind run perpetually on low and unworthy themes, or to commend one who has habituated himself to elevated and wholesome thinking. We can also, by foresight and mode- rate skill, determine the associations which decide what our trains of thought shall be. This, much more than we can estimate, has to do with the style of men or women we shall be, and the kind of characters we shall have. 68 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER III. THE FORMS WHICH THE REPRESENTATIVE PRODUCT ASSUMES. There are three forms which Representation assumes in the mind ; namely, Fantasy, Memory, and Imagination. By Fantasy is meant the power which the mind has of forming images of objects which have been previously pre- Fantasy sented to it, these images being wholly severed defined. from all relations of time and place. It is this latter feature which distinguishes it from Memory, to which the time element is essential. It is distin- Howdistin- guished from Imagination in that the latter is gmshed from cons tructive and in a sense creative. It is also memory and imagination. i ess under the control of the will, and is not subject to judgment nor guided by taste. It is the char- acteristic of undisciplined minds, or of those relaxed and freed from restraint, though not confined to these. It is active in reverie, and becomes predominant in disturbed sleep or half-waking conditions, in dreams and somnambu- lism: as also in children and savages. In all Images come ° and go spon- these conditions here implied, the images come aneous y. ^^ ^ more or less and sometimes entirely at random and hap-hazard, frequently in utter chaotic confu- sion and with the strangest mixture of elements. The term fantastic both etymologically and appropriately ex- presses many of the products of this form of representa- tion. Sometimes under the influence of certain bodily FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 69 conditions the representations are most disagreeable and painful ; but sometimes also they are just the opposite. The word Fancy is in its origin a synonyme of Fantasy. But recently and in its more popular use it has a some- what wider range, and in philosophy it has a i- ancyan d meaning somewhat distinct from that just now fan tasy. assigned to Fantasy. But the terms are not radically dif- ferent. Fancy " collects materials for the Imagination ; therefore the latter presupposes the former, while the for- mer does not necessarily suppose the latter." * Whether Fantasy or Fancy, it is a power by which images of indi- vidual objects formerly perceived are re-presented to the mind, usually without perceptible effort of the Words . will. Wordsworth says, Fancy " does not re- worth's quire that the materials she makes use of should be susceptible of change in their constitution from her touch ; and where they admit of modification, it is enough for her purpose, if it be slight, limited, and evanescent." MEMORY It is one of the facts with which all are familiar, that the mind has the power to retain cogni- The mind's tions of which it has come into possession ^etlincoff- — or, as it may be more fully stated, the mind nitions. has the power of returning to states in which it has formerly been, with a clear consciousness that they are recurrences of former states. It is held by not a few writers of note, that no cognition, or thought, or feeling, or mental action of any sort which has ever existed, can ever so far be lost as that it may No co?n i t i on not under certain conditions recur. We do wholly lost, certainly know that a very great number of our mental 1 Dugald Stewart. 70 PSYCHOLOGY. experiences return to us, and that too sometimes, when, owing to their trivial character, or the long lapse of time, it would seem most unlikely. This characteristic of the mind we call Memory. There are two functions of Memory ; namely, Conserva- tion or Retention, which has in part been already described, Twofunc- anc ^ wn i° n Sir William Hamilton regards as tions of Memory proper, and Reproduction ; Hamilton memory. &&$& ^ q Representation. But Representation is a generic term including not only Conservation and Re- production, but all kinds of recurring mental experiences. Reproduction is either spontaneous or voluntary. In both r roduc- cases it proceeds under the laws of Association, tionoftwo Spontaneous Reproduction is when the previous thought recurs to the mind through the opera- tions of the general laws of Association, without effort or c volition on the part of the subiect. It is dis- Spontaneous r •> reproduc- tiiiguished from Fantasy only by the recognition guishedfrom of the element of time, that is, of the fact that the fantasy. state of mind has been previously experienced. Voluntary Reproduction or Reminiscence occurs when an effort is made to recall some thought or cognition of the past. Everv one is familiar with the fact that Voluntary ? reproduc- frequently when we have a part, or some inti- mation, of a former presentation in mind, we seek to reproduce the whole ; as, for instance, having dis- tinctly in mind a person or*place, we endeavor to re- cover the name, which has escaped us, and which, as we say, we have forgotten; or knowing the name, possibly, we strive to bring back the object. This we do by com- pelling certain associations which if left to themselves would take another direction ; or by concentrating the FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 71 mind upon certain suggestions when others would occur if left to spontaneity. In the one case we follow the gen- eral connection existing among associated ideas and the line of easy and natural suggestion ; in the other by an energetic effort we select such associations as are likely to lead to the recognition desired. This is commonly called Becollection, as in it we re-collect the missing elements which make up the entire representation. Of course, it is obvious that we cannot recall that of which the mind has no knowledge whatever. When, for instance, I try to recall a name of which the object is already present to my mind, or an object of which the name is present, I already know that there is a name or an object, as the case may be. There is always something some way related to that which we desire to recall, and from this the association must proceed. VARIETIES OF MEMORY. There are wide differences in the memory of different individuals. These differences are in respect of both kind and power. Some remember words and names with great facility, others retain these but feebly, while they recall things readily. One man will easily recog- nize a face he has once seen or a person he has previously known, while it is with great difficulty he can recollect the name. Another class of persons retain and reproduce cir- cumstances and events with remarkable accuracy and minuteness. The last is likely to be the case with uned- ucated persons. Such a memory has been called circumstan- Circumstantial. Others still have a logical or tial memory- scientific memory. They recall the thought or principle connected with the object, and thus recollect the latter. 72 PSYCHOLOGY. This difference depends much upon the habit and character of association which one cultivates. The peculiarities of the several laws of association are also seen here. This is the case, especially, in the difference between circumstan- tial and logical memory. Uneducated people, not having the mind trained to systematic thinking, naturally associ- ate objects and events by the contiguity of time and space. They are likely to take in many concomitant particulars. In a representation of their reminiscences to others this often has a picturesque effect, but oftener it becomes tedious, diverting the attention from essential points. The Logical opposite is the case with philosophic minds, memory. They seize upon the reality rather than the ap- pearance, upon the thought rather than its embodiment. It has frequently been noted that while in the former case the memory is more ready, in the latter it is slower but more sure and confident. It is more difficult to determine the cause of a purely verbal memory. It is not impossible that the principle of association here is that of time and place. The sound of the word — less likely, its written form — is associated with the person or thing, and their association is more intense from the fact that there is no thought or principle to absorb any part of the mind. The variations in the power of memory are still more striking. We have instances of extraordinary tenacity Variations in wn i° n would be incredible were they not well the power of authenticated. It is related that Themistocles memory. -. knew every citizen of Athens, and that Cyrus could recognize every soldier of his great army. Horten- sius, it is said, could sit all day at an auction, and at evening could give an account from memory of every- FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 73 thing sold, the purchaser, and the price. In modern times we have equal feats of the memory. Dr. Waller Extraordi . of Oxford on one occasion, at night, in bed, pro- nary in- posed to himself a number of fifty-three places, and found its square root to twenty-seven places, and, without writing down the number at all, dictated the result from memory twenty days afterward. "The librarian of the Duke of Tuscany would inform any one who consulted him, not only who had directly treated of any particular subject, but who had indirectly touched upon it while treat- ing of any other subject, to the number of perhaps one hundred and fifty authors, giving the name of the author, the name of the book, the words, often the page where they were to be found, and with the greatest exactness. It is said that a gentleman of Florence lent him a manuscript which he had prepared for the press, and some time after- ward went to him with a sorrowful face, pretending to have lost his manuscript by accident, and begging the librarian to recall what he could of it and write it down. He imme- diately set about it, and wrote out the entire manuscript, without missing a word. At one time the Grand Duke sent to him to inquire if he could procure a certain book which was very scarce. ' No, sir,' said the librarian ; ' there is but one copy in the world, that is in the Grand Seignior's library in Constantinople, and is the seventh book on the seventh shelf, on the right hand as you go in.' " It has been a largely prevalent opinion that great strength of memory is incompatible with a high degree of Powerfu i intellectuality. This is clearlv an error. There memory com- J J. t, patiblewith have been persons of extraordinary memory who high inteiiec- have had, at the same time, only moderate in- tuallt y- telligence and slender resources in the way of thought. (4 PSYCHOLOGY. This is especially true in some marked instances of verbal memory. But to leap from these isolated facts to the gen- eral conclusion that a good memory necessarily implies feeble intellectual action, is very poor reasoning. Scaliger, Grotius, Pascal, Leibnitz, Euler, Macaulay, and Hamilton, and a thousand others, each possessed an extraordinary memory, and were at the same time men of the greatest intellectual power. Let no student neglect any means of cultivating a good memory, under the im- pression that it will unfavorably affect his other faculties. CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. There is no doubt that the power of the memory can be greatly increased. It may also be impaired by neglect or Mnemonic misuse. I have not much faith in mnemonic sys- systems. terns. They are too artificial, and it has some- times seemed as if it required more outlay of mental energy to learn the system than to remember the facts and prin- ciples which it is presumed such a system^ids in recalling. Of late such devices have not been much in vogue. Just now, however, a new interest has sprung up in respect to means of cultivating the memory, which are supposed to promise valuable results. What the outcome will be, re- mains to be seen. But aside from these adventitious aids there are certain , f practical rules by which the memory itself may improving be essentially improved. The chief of these are the memory. P ni as follows : — 1. Trust the Memory. It is believed by many that the memory of the ancient was much greater than that of the Trusting the modern scholars. The reason assigned is not memory. unnatural. Books were far less numerous then FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 15 than now. For this reason, men were compelled to rely on their memoiy. Like some other powers of the mind, the more we demand of it the more freely and fully does it respond. It is true, however, that the memory may be overtaxed and thus impaired. For this reason trivial and useless things may be dismissed, or, at least, less effort should be made to retain them. 2. The memory becomes more retentive as we give more Careful and Discriminating Attention to the subject under consideration. We do not readily recall those Carefu i at . things of which we do not have a clear appre- tention. hension. Hence the necessity of close and minute obser- vation. Any one who notes particularly the habits of students finds that in a very large proportion of the in- stances in which one is unable to recall what he supposes himself to have learned, it is because he has failed to get a good understanding of the matter. In some cases which have come under my own observation the defect even arose from the fact that the learner was a poor reader. Many, especially among young students, — and we may well wish it were confined to them — fail to get on with their studies simply because of their careless and slovenly habits of reading. They do not fairly take in the essential thoughts represented on the printed page. 3. By Wise Habits of Association. This implies the power and practice of thorough analysis. There will naturally follow from this the grouping of particulars in logical and systematic order about general prin- ciples. This is essential to the command of many and complicated elements. For instance, a person may go into a large library knowing nothing about it systematic but the fact that there are ten or twenty or order - 76 PSYCHOLOGY. fifty thousand volumes. He may look at a hundred dif- ferent books and spend hours in doing so. But, take whatever pains he may, he will carry away only Illustration. K . J \ J , J . J a chaotic impression 01 a multitude ot printed works, and nothing at all of the essential character of the collection. But let him know beforehand that these are arranged according to some general principle — it may be logical or geographical — let us suppose the former ; he now sees that in one alcove are placed all the mathemati- cal treatises under their various subdivisions ; in another all the historical works ; in another those on Natural Sci- ence under the several heads of Physics, Natural History, Mineralogy, Chemistry, etc. ; and in still others Metaphys- ics, Theology, Law, Physics, and Literature ; if he has paid any considerable degree of attention to their classifi- cation, he carries away an intelligent conception of the character of the library, and will be able to convey it to others. It is thus, by a proper and sensible discipline of the memory, that men become able writers ; not by thinking Relation to over a disconnected jumble of thoughts which writing and they would like to present to others, but by neous speak- classifying and systematizing these, so that the mg. mind can command them. This, too, is the power of memory which is essential to the extemporane- ous speaker. There are men whom we know who can speak two hours or more without notes, holding thousands with unflagging interest, not because they have memorized their topics, much less their words, but because they have so arranged their thoughts, that under the laws of associa- tion they naturally suggest one another, and so present themselves in the order in which they are wanted. A FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 77 good memory, then, is not to be estimated at a low value, but as one of the greatest of our intellectual powers. Most persons realize in only a small degree the Importance of Memory. All who reflect will see at once how inconve- nient it would be if we had no memory, and what an advantage it is to carry along in our of memory mind the knowledge of many past events and aKzedby^ 6 experiences. But Memory is very much more many per- than a convenience. It is absolutely essential to a very large proportion of all the operations of the intel- lect. Without Memory we could not reason, we could scarcely judge ; we could not converse ; we Relation to could not carry on mathematical or scientific anTjudg? investigations ; reading would be useless to us, men*- not merely as failing to be retained, but as failing also to give us even present information and entertainment. Business could not be transacted. The most ordinary workman must remember what he is to do and how to do it ; what he has already done and its relation to what is to be done, and a thousand other minute and apparently utterly unimportant • i-i • -i Business, items which nevertheless are essential to be kept in mind in the simplest undertaking. It is the key- stone of the intellectual arch, and without it, with all the other great powers of the soul, we should be scarcely more than the merest idiots. IMAGINATION. This is the third of the forms which Representative Cognition takes. It may be defined as the power to re- combine materials already in the mind, into new imagination ivholes. The difference between it and Fantasy defined - 78 PSYCHOLOGY. has already been indicated. The difference between it and Generalization, or the formation of concept, is that in the latter case we form groups of objects just as they exist in nature and unite them by one or more similar qualities. But in Imagination we combine the several elements, not into, a group of individualities, but into a single mental indi- vidual, different from any one thing that is found in nature, — a product of the mind itself. The Imagination is a more positive force than either Fantasy or Memory, and more directly under the control of the will. It is, in an impor- a creative, tant sense, a creative power. It is not, as the not a mere W ord might seem to indicate, a mere image- lmage-mak- & ° ing power. making capabilitjr. As Dr. Hickok says, " The sense-constructions are properly images ; but they are prod- ucts of the Fancy, and not of the Imagination, which has higher and more complex work in hand." Imagination is of two grades. It may either simply re- combine the materials furnished into new forms, or it may form ideals, intimations of which exist in percep- tions or representations already before the mind, and actualize them in new constructions. Thus a painter whose imagination is of the former grade may, from a num- ber of beautiful faces, select such features of each as will answer his purpose, and combine them into a picture which will be like no one of them, but which will be more beauti- ful than any of them. This is an instance of the former and lower order of this faculty. It is little better than mechanical piece-work, and never comes up to the charac- ter of art in its proper sense. In the other kind of Imagination there is something more than recombination in the ordinary sense of that term. There are conceptions of new features suggested, doubt- FORMS OF REPRESENTA TION. 79 less, by those already existing, as being fit complements of them in the structure contemplated, or desirable supple- ments. Thus in architecture, for instance, when the artist begins to plan his building-, there are present to i • • A u -1A- \ i The higher his mind many buildings whose general purpose kind of imag- is the same as that which he is to design. But s n u atlo e g tions as he arranges the parts of the intended struc- of new ture he thinks that a certain feature, not found in any of the others which he has seen, would add to its' beauty and convenience ; and he puts it in his plan, at first perhaps tentatively, and, after much modifying and shift- ing of positions and relations, settles upon its final arrange- ment as a part of the whole. This may be repeated in a variety of cases in the same building until the whole takes on a unique and original form, more admirable than any- thing which he has previously seen. The same process may characterize the painting of a picture, or the writing of a poem, or the composition of a piece of music. In the case of genius or even of a high order of talent, we thus have what is regarded as an original piece of work, some- thing in which not only the general effect is new and sur- prising, but each part seems to have been made for its particular relation to the whole. A striking illustration of this kind of Imagination may be found even in Mechanical Invention. Few probably are aware how large a part Imagination plays here. . ffi . Take, for instance, a mowing machine, or a mechanical machine for making mill-cards, or any other similar piece of mechanism. No one of these is constructed by taking parts of other machines and merely forming a new combination better than any of them. It is a new invention altogether. True, it may be of gradual develop- 80 PSYCHOLOGY. ment, and it may be a long time coming to perfection. But usually the first contrivance is something wholly different from anything previously devised. Possibly the inventor How the new is first moved by the desire for some more rapid structure ^ wa y f gathering the grain, or making the cards, gested. than the old, slow method by hand. Or, pos- sibly, before any such desire has consciously risen in his mind, some accident suggests to him a means of diminish- ing the labor, or of more easily and rapidly accomplishing the work. He spends much time in thinking about it, but this thinking is always accompanied by an active Imagina- „ . tion. Little by little the instrument forms itself How imagi- ... nation works in his mind. At first it is only a part, perhaps a small part, of what will be needed to accom- plish after a moderate fashion what he proposes to effect with the new machine. But in quiet hours, perhaps of the night, when other men sleep, he imagines the whole thing, so far as it has progressed, in his mind, and works upon it there, rearranging and reconstructing it. He puts in an additional wheel, or takes out a superfluous one ; supplies a lever in one place, or a cog somewhere else ; and calculates how it will work, or whether it will work at all. The point here is, that at present it is a thing of the Imagination ; it is wholly in his mind, and he works upon it as a reality, while as yet it has no outward form. its embodi- At length, when he thinks it somewhere nearly ment. complete, he ventures on its embodiment in iron and brass and wood and leather, and is ready for actual experiment with it. It may prove a failure, but it is cer- tainly not always that, for we have hundreds of these children of the brain doing multifarious service in the pro- ductive industries of the world. FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 81 What I wish. to show here is that Imagination, and that of the higher order, is involved. Doubtless a combination of material in new forms is also implied, but . i • Something there is something incalculably more than this, very much The material in such cases exists in more or less JhTrMombi- approximatelv primitive forms, and the combi- nation of ma,terials» nation is of a kind that implies original powers far beyond that of the lower order first mentioned. While the product of the higher forms of Imagination is not creative in the extreme sense of that term, iatheTx- 76 it is in the popular and more common sense. It trame sense, \ x yet it is in is not a modification or combination of products the ordinary previously existing, but it is to all practical sense ' intents an entirely new formation. It is not to be understood by what has just been said, that Imagination is either wholly or in part synonymous with Invention. They are distinct powers of the Htft mind. The latter has reference usually to the mous with in- production of something actual, while the former deals entirely with the ideal. Still they are closely asso- ciated, and neither operates in any way of large efficiency without the aid of the other. Even in the ideal construc- tions with which the mind is sometimes busy, invention occasionally plays an important part. While, on the other hand, in the great inventions of industrial art, the Imagina- tion is an indispensable agent. PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER IV. RELATION OP THE IMAGINATION TO SOME OTHER FACULTIES. Memory and Imagination are alike in this respect, that they are both forms of Representation. But the former Memory and gives us objects as they actually were at some imagination, previous time ; the latter has to do with ideal objects. The former deals with the past ; the latter has no temporal limitations, — it disports itself alike in the past and in the future. Judgment differs from Imagination in that the former deals with the relations of things, and also that it has to do principally with actual relations ; while the lat- Judgment. J ter, as we have seen, deals wholly with ideals. Judgment has specific reference to truth, and nothing is really either true or false except Judgments, or, as they are called when expressed in language, propositions. But Imagination is not limited to what is true or real ; it extends itself to all that is possible or conceivable. Still a good Imagination is always accompanied by a sound Judgment. What is fitting and proper; what will best convey the ideas in the mind ; or what will most correctly and properly fill out the representation, — -these are largely matters of Judgment. The products of the Imagination are often much at fault from the lack of good Judgment on the part of the agent. RELATION OF IMAGINATION. 83 Reasoning is to a certain extent subsidiary to, and affili- ated with Imagination, but is clearly distinct from it. Like Judgment it has largely to do with truth and fact, while Imagination deals with possibili- ties and conceptions. Reasoning proceeds from estab- lished premises ; but Imagination has no need of these. Still reasoning is not wholly alien to the work of Imagina- tion, but has some subsidiary relation to it. In forming out of the materials in hand the combination desired, it is pretty nearly certain that there will be occasion for draw- ing inferences as to proportion, situation, or symmetry, or some other condition of the new whole, or all of these. Taste is closely connected with Imagination, while yet not at all identical with it. The latter may exist in high degree where the former is greatly deficient, if & , ni . -,-, & / . , Taste not not wholly wanting. But taste is essential to identical the best effect of the Imagination. Without it, JK & ' closely re- the latter will become wild, grotesque, and latedto, im- offensive. This is especially the case when beauty is the aim in any department of representative art. Taste must regulate and direct the Imagination. To- gether with the Judgment it is an essential guide and modulator of this power of the mind. ACTIVE AND PASSIVE IMAGINATION. This is a division made by some writers, but not ad- mitted by others. Whatever may be the difference of opinion, it must have reference rather to the Some <}i st i nc . designation than to the matter of fact. There tion certain- can be little doubt that somewhat of a distinction is to be made. It is certain that while some persons have the power to originate pictures and representations of remarkable 84 PSYCHOLOGY. effectiveness, others who cannot do this, yet can re-form these when presented to the mind, and can appreciate the representation when thus made. Only a few persons have the former power, while a great many have the lat- ter ; there are also a smaller number who have it in only a slight degree, or possibly not at all. It certainly requires some Imagination to appreciate a picture of real merit, or a group of statuary evincing much ability on the part of the artist, or a poem, or even a good dramatic story ; and hundreds have this capability where perhaps only one could represent any of these. UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. 85 CHAPTER V. UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. Many persons are disposed to regard Imagination as having no real utility, or, at least, none for the Imaffination more serious purposes of life ; they would treat often re- it as at the best wholly ornamental. But even withoututii- if this were true, it would not necessarily follow j^T"* that it had no utility. Use and beauty are not ornamental, wholly alien to each other, nor are they mutually antago- nistic. A thousand things are useful simply because they are beautiful. Otherwise it would beauty not appear that the all-wise Creator had put a vast an agomstlc - amount of useless work into the structure of the physical universe. It would probably not be very difficult to prove that many things are beautiful just because of Many things their utility. And this,' too, by no excess of beauti ™°y •j . . reason of figurative language. But even if the allegation their utility. were true that there is such an antagonism, still we should find on examination that Imagination has an important office among the utilities of humanity. In the first place, Imagination is often essential to the writer or speaker in setting forth what he wishes to convey to the minds of others. No man can so describe imagination a scene or a series of events as to produce the ^j^and desired effect on those who hear him, unless he speakers. is possessed of a certain degree of Imagination. Hence an orator, an essayist, a teacher, a historian without this 86 PSYCHOLOGY. faculty would be, if not a failure, at least greatly lacking Difference * n effectiveness. This is one of the principal dif- between an ferences between an eloquent orator or writer, andanun- and one that is dull and uninteresting, though shaker or 6 P erna P s equally intelligent and learned — the writer. former brings his subject vividly before our minds simply because he has a vivid conception of it him- self, and is able to give us such outlines and points of the picture that it easily reproduces itself in the minds of those to whom it is presented ; the other gives a dry detail of facts or principles or arguments, which commends itself to only a few minds. We have already seen something of the mutual relations of Imagination and Invention. It would be nearly impos- Successfui s ^ e f° r a man ? no matter what his genius in invention im- other respects, to devise a complicated machine without im- if he had no Imagination. Very often the whole agination. structure must be imagined first in his mind and must there be held subject to various modifications, before even a draught of it is made, to say nothing of a model. So, too, in great practical enterprises, plans must be formed in the mind, and, so to speak, be manipulated there, Business en- before they can be projected in actualities, or terprises. even described and published. Napoleon in arranging for one of his great campaigns, reaching through months of time, and extending over many leagues of ter- instance of ritory, and comprising all the divisions and sub- Napoleon, divisions of an army of a hundred thousand men, with all the immense trains of artillery and baggage, — wishing to keep the matter secret till the time arrived to begin to carry it into execution, held the whole plan in his own mind. Each day's march of each division and the UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. 87 different routes, the points of convergence and concentra- tion, the time and place where the first battle would prob- ably be fought, the subsequent movement in different lines, the concentration again, the time and place of the second battle, and all the complicated operations, many of them depending upon many contingencies; yet all these calculated with wonderful skill and marvellous prescience — were carried in his head till the hour to divulge them came. Then he called his chief of staff, and in a rapid, conversational manner, gave an exposition of the whole plaf! and had it put on paper as he gave it out. It is said that the actual movements throughout, notwithstanding the natural uncertainty of battles of which there were several, and the fortuities which no human mind could anticipate, corresponded almost entirely with the concep- tions previously formed in the mind of the great captain. It may be said that there were other powers than that of the Imagination involved here. True ; but it is impossi- ble to suppose that a man either destitute of this power, or possessing it only in a low degree, would be competent to form and carry in his mind so gigantic a plan. Even in science it is not possible to dispense altogether with this faculty. Very much of our modern Indig eng scientific investigation involves Hypothesis, and able in at least an important faculty in the formation of hypothesis is Imagination. The Imagination was as really concerned in the hypothesis of Ptolemy and in that of Copernicus relating to the movement of the heavenly bodies, as in Michael Angelo's " Moses " or Milton's "Paradise Lost." In many of the minor sciences its utility is not the less great. But Imagination is of especial value in the formation of 88 PSYCHOLOGY. ideals of excellence in every department of human interest. Formation Ideals are representations of that which we of ideals. regard as perfect, and they are solely the crea- tures of the Imagination. As set before us they are higher than anything we have yet attained to — higher perhaps Meaning of than anything really attainable — but as condi- ideais. tions at which we aim and towards which we may, more or less, approximate, they are of untold advan- tage. This is particularly the case in respect to conduct „ . . and character. The man who places before Value in re- l spectto him the ideal of a pure and lofty character, delighting in it, as he must, if he forms it at all, almost unconsciously strives to realize it in his own life. The person who does not have some such ideal is not likely to make much of his life. He simply drifts about exposed to winds and currents which carry him whither they will ; he lives a purposeless life, and attains to no high excellence. CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 89 CHAPTER VI. CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. This faculty,' like all other powers of the mind and, we might add, of the body, is developed and strengthened by use, and impaired by disuse. Exercise of even strengthened a weak imagination, if persistent and regular, ^ p u a ^ re a ^ jL will greatly tend to improve it. Of course disuse. Nature does more for some than for others, and it is not to be expected that each imagination will become the equal of every other, nor that all men will become geniuses in this respect more than in any other. Not every man will become a 'Samson in physical strength, however care- fully he cultivates his body ; but every healthy man may gain great additions to his strength, such as he would not have if he did not practise those exercises which imply muscular force and energy. The analogy holds with refer- ence to the Imagination. The man who diligently uses such powers as he has, whether small or moderate, will find them developing into greater effectiveness. The Imagination is also cultivated by the Study of the Ideal Creations of great artists, poets, orators, and literary men. To see much of these, to become inter- The study of ested in and inspired by them, is to have enkin- *^ ofgreat died in us a desire to imitate them, and to fill artists, our minds with representations which can but powerfully influence our own characters. No one can be familiar with the works of Homer and Virgil and Shakespeare and Milton, 90 PSYCHOLOGY. of Raphael and Michael Angelo, of Canova and Thorwald- sen, without catching something of the spirit that animated those great artists. The Study of Nature is also an important means of culti- vating the Imagination. Most people, it is true, unless study of they are immured perpetually in cities, have nature. access to Nature ; but there are comparatively few who are impressed with the marvellous beauties, the grandeur and sublimity, that are found almost everywhere by those who are disposed to look for them. The habit of Beauti s of observation is wanting in many, and even where nature, even it exists it is frequently directed to those par- frequentiy ' ticulars which have nothing to do with our ees- not observed. thetic suscep tibilities. The farmer, if he be an observant man at all, is likely to be thinking of the capa- bilities of the soil in relation to crops, grazing, etc. The civil engineer would be regarding the facilities for road- building, or for railways, looking out for water-powers and the construction of canals. So of many others who have particular interests in mind. But even some of these and many others could, by a little effort, direct their observation to such pictures of the aspect of Nature as would tend to excite, interest, and develop the Imagina- tion and the Taste. It is to be remarked, that while the aspects of Nature are often beautiful in themselves, there is still greater beauty More beauty in what is suggested than in what actually ex- than per d * sts- Hence such scenes appeal to the idealizing ceived. power in the beholder. If this be wanting, it is not strange that the external aspect imparts no pleasure, and no sense of beauty. It is not a product of the Imagina- tion to present to the mind itself, or to describe or repre- CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 91 sent to another, such a scene just as it is. The mind must add something of its own. A bare photograph is not a work either of Imagination or of Art. A man may imitate without idealizing, but it is only in the latter suggestive that his Imagination comes into play. Take the illustration, following from Byron : — " She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies." Here the poet wishes to describe a woman's beauty, one characteristic of which is that the dark and light so mingle, both in her general appearance and in her eyes, as to greatly enhance the effect of both. But instead of saying this in the commonplace way I have just indicated, he thinks of a night in a region where the atmosphere is pure, and the stars come out in full force, the very darkness rendering their light incalculably more beautiful. This furnishes an apt simile, by using which he not only the better expresses his thought, but charms and captivates the reader as no literal description could possibly do. PART III. THE ELABORATIVE FACULTY. CHAPTER I. THOUGHT AND THINKING. We have seen that cognitions are presented to the mind through Sensation and Perception, and by the Inner- Sense, and that these make us acquainted with Previous certain qualities, energies, and operations of the presenta- external world and of the mind itself, and that we class these all under the general term Phenomena. We have moreover seen that cognitions once in the mind are liable to re-present themselves under well-de- Allthese fined conditions as implied in the laws of Asso- cognitions ciation, and that, while not directly subject to viduais, not the control of the will, they are indirectly af- fected by it, so that we can within certain limits choose what subjects of contemplation shall be present in our minds ; and that they there take the different forms of Fantasy, Memory, and Imagination. All these Known as powers have for their objects the cognition of intuitive, individuals, and not of groups or classes as such. The general name that has been given to the aggregate of these powers, including those of the Reason or regulative faculty, not yet considered, is Intuitive Faculties. We come now to another set of faculties entirely dif- ferent from those first considered, and which are known as the Discursive or Elaborative Faculties. These The discur- furnish no new material to the mind, but they o™tive elab take the cognitions furnished by the other fac- faculties, ulties and work them over into new forms which furnish 96 PSYCHOLOGY. additional knowledge. The processes and products of this Thought and faculty constitute what is called Thinking or thinking. Thought. In strict propriety Thinking is the process, and Thought the product, of the discursive facul- ties ; but by many if not by most writers, Thought is used somewhat indiscriminately for both the operation and the result. Thought has in the past been used very largely by writ- ers, as comprehending all the operations of the intellect and as " co-extensive with consciousness." 1 Thought now ... restricted to -But by most ot our best recent writers it is re- sive d ope?a- stricted to the processes and product of the dis- tions of the cursive faculties. The phenomena of Thought are known under the general heads of Concep- tion, Judgment, and Reasoning. These also imply cer- tain minor and subsidiary powers and processes of which we shall become cognizant as we go on. These are usu- ally all grouped together and called the Logical or Rational processes and faculties. For it is the department of mind here considered with which the study of Logic is concerned. It is obvious that this is a higher department of man's intellectual nature than any of which we have heretofore taken notice. It is bv thinking that we arrive This a higher department at the most important and the most difficult of any here^ *ke knowledge of which we can come into pos- fore consid- session. " By Thought we know effects from their causes, and causes through their effects ; we believe in powers whose actings we can only directly discern, and infer powers in objects which we have never tested nor observed ; we explain what has happened by 1 Sir William Hamilton. THOUGHT AND THINKING. 97 referring it to laws of necessity or reason, and we pre- dict what will happen by rightly interpreting what has occurred. By thinking we rise to the unseen from that which is seen, to the laws of Nature from the facts of Nature, to the laws of spirit from the phenomena of spirit, and to God from the universe of matter and of spirit, whose powers reveal His energy, and whose ends and adaptations manifest His thoughts and character." 1 Let us take an instance exemplifying what is meant by thinking. I look out of my window and see a tree. So far as sense-perception goes, I cognize an object iu ustrat i ve of a certain form and size and color or colors, instance. I know that it is an external object and that it exists. So far, and possibly further, I have done no perceptible think- ing — possibly none at all. But I also know that there are certain causes for the existence of the tree. I know that it must have grown, though I have never seen it grow. I know that it grew from a seed, and that seed was in the fruit of another tree, which I have good reason to think grew also from another seed, and so on in an indefi- nite series. But, coming back again to the present tree, I compare it with several other trees that I have in my mind, — hemlock, spruce, pine, oak, birch, maple, beech ; I know that it is a maple ; this from the shape of its leaves and the character of the bark. I also know that it is likely to be the parent of other trees, and that these trees will be maples, and not oaks or pines ; and that from these will come still other trees that will also be maples. I also know that the wood of this tree is of a certain character; that it will have a peculiar kind of utility for fuel ; that it can be made of a certain use as building material, or for 1 President Porter : The Human Intellect. 98 PSYCHOLOGY. furniture, or for other purposes ; also, that when it is of a certain size, at a certain season of the year, from an incision sap will flow, from which can be manufactured sugar of a peculiar flavor and value. All these things, and many more, I know or believe, not from perception or the testimony of others, but by Thinking, — that is, by judging and reasoning. CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 99 CHAPTER II. CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. By many writers the term Conception is made to do the double duty of representing both the process and the pro- duct. But it seems to me that when we have „ .. Double mean- two different things, and two words which may ing of "con- be applied to them respectively, and especially where this fact exists to any considerable extent, it is both a more desirable and more economical use of language to avail ourselves of this distinction. Accordingly I propose to use the word conception for the power or process of the mind, and concept for the product. Conception, then, as a process, is divided into Several dis . several distinct operations ; namely, analysis, tinct opera- abstraction, comparison, and generalization. Let us suppose that we perceive an object. We are sometimes taught that our perception is of an object im- mediately and instantly. Doubtless in a certain Not always sense this is true. Long- before we have come conscious of o the processes to observe our mental operations we have formed of cognition- habits of rapid perception, that is, of so quickly uniting our perceptions of different parts that we cease to pay attention to the various minute steps of the process, or even to be aware that there is any process at all. Thus, apparently, on seeing a house, a tree, a horse, a rose, or an orange, we instantly cognize the aggregate individual in each case, and do not cognize noticeably the several qual- 100 PSYCHOLOGY. ities which we have swiftly united in our minds to form still there is tne object. Nevertheless there is a process, a a process. perception, first of the different parts or ele- ments, and then a synthesis of these into a whole. This is evident from the fact that often when we see a new object, and especially if it be a somewhat though perhaps only moderately complicated object, we spend some time in considering the separate parts and their relations to each other, before we can be said to have any definite perception of the individual whole. This is the case even when we see objects with which we are more or less familiar, in a dim light or under unfavorable circumstances. As we say, sometimes, " I cannot quite make it out ; " and it is only by more carefully noting the parts or qualities and their relations, that the familiar object finally re-forms itself in our minds. Still under the habits of perception which we have formed, we do so instantly take in the object perceived that there is not the least apparent synthesis of parts and qualities. Hence to all practical intents we perceive the whole before The first con- we perceive its parts. Consequently the first cTsTthat°of operation of which we are conscious in the pro- analysis, cess of conception is that of Analysis. We separate the object into its parts. Let us take a concrete case. I see before me an object which has a certain effect on the eye, — that is, it is of a certain hue. It has, as I note, a certain form and size. I touch it, and it is soft and smooth and yielding, but not fluid. It has also a certain odor of which I readily become aware. There are a dozen other qualities which it might be difficult to specify, but which the observer knows. Now I may do either of two things : I may abstract a single CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 101 quality, or several of the qualities, and proceed from the former or the latter, according to the object I have in view. Let us take the single quality which first affects me through the eye. I make this color the sole object of my atten- tion, leaving out all the other qualities. This is Abstraction — a drawing away from all the others for the sake of exclusive consideration. This is the second step in the process. The third step is that of Comparison. Having fixed upon the color of the object, I look about me at the multitude of objects on every side. I compare their various qualities with this particular one, which I have in mind. Some of these qualities appeal to the ear, and others to the touch, and others to other senses, and thus are entirely unlike this. But I see several qualities which, like this, appeal directly to the eye, and yet they differ from one another. They are alike in some respects, but diverse in others. But among these various colors I find several instances of substantial similarity to this. I decide that these are alike. So far Comparison. I now proceed to put all those objects having this quality which I have found in a large number of instances, into a group or class by themselves. Wherever I find CIassiflca . anything which is thus characterized, a flower, a tion or gene- bit of ribbon, the plumage of a bird, the clouds at sunset, a lady's dress, a burning coal, etc., — these are all put into a class by themselves. This is Generalization, — an iden- tification of the quality in any number of different objects. It only remains to give a name to this class. For, though the process of Conception is complete at the point at winch we have arrived, in order to assure its utility Denomina- and availability, it must have a name. So tion - 102 PSYCHOLOGY. this is added to the process by many writers, and called Denomination. The name that we give to this class which we have formed, and which, when we have gathered up We call the under one name, we call a Concept, is that of red Susformed t ^ n 9 s - Every object that has this quality we a concept. call a red tiling, though we ordinarily use the designating adjective with some noun, and say, a red rose, a red ribbon, etc. This we may do, or we may carry our observation further, and keep the color separate from all its substances, and give it a name by itself, calling it redness. In this case we have an abstract, instead of a concrete Concept. There is a second method of Conception. We take an object which is presented to our senses. We observe, as . . before, its particular qualities, making an Analy- methodof sis of it. We take particular note of several of these qualities, which we abstract from the others ; among these, that it is an animal (which must pre- viously, of course, have been generalized), that it has a bushy tail and mane, an arching neck, a peculiarly shaped head, and four feet. We compare this with other animals, and among them, while we find a great multitude that have certain of these characteristics, there is a smaller number, the individuals of which have all of them. These we put Conception together in a class, and call them liorses. Now of a horse. horse becomes the name of the class — it is a term or Concept, and it is given to a class, and so desig- A class every na ^ es the class that every member of it may be individual in called by this name — a horse — every member be called a also having all the qualities to which I first re- horse, ferred. Or we might have taken the single quality of this object, namely, its having four feet, and, CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 103 using this quality as a test, and putting all animals having it in a class, have given this class the name quadruped. We are now prepared to give the complete definition of the Concept. It is " that product of the mind Definition of which results from Generalization whereby many concept. individuals are combined in one class, through one or more similar qualities, and are indicated by a common term." 1 Thus we have classes numbering hundreds and thou- sands of individuals, all individuals in each called by a common name, as horse, dog, man, tree, house, etc. Each horse is different from every other horse, though every horse has certain qualities that belong to all horses, and every individual horse, whatever peculiarities he may have, has in any case these qualities and may therefore be designated by this term. HIGHER AND LOWER CONCEPTS. Concepts may be formed, not only from individuals, but from other concepts or classes. That is, there Concepts are classes of classes. This gives rise to the idea fo " ned from J o other con- of higher and lower concepts. These higher cepts. concepts are formed from the lower in the same way that the lower are formed from the individuals. The follow- ing diagram will illustrate what is meant by this. VEGETABLES. Trees. Shrubs. Grasses, etc. Rose, Currant, Blackberry, etc. Oaks, Maples, Pines, etc. Wheat, Bye, Timothy, etc. This might be extended still further. Here we have, for instance, an oak. On examining it we find that it has 1 Atwater's Logic. 104 PSYCHOLOGY. certain qualities in common with maples, pines, etc. Now oaks, pines, and maples are themselves concepts, having under them respectively several lower concepts, these being generalized from individuals. But attention is prin- cipally called to this fact, that the concepts named have certain qualities in common, and these qualities taken together constitute the qualities of trees. This, then, becomes a higher concept generalized from the concepts oaks, maples, pines. Hence every oak, as also every pine, and every one of several other concepts, is a tree. still higher We ma y carry the generalization still higher, concepts. Thus, trees when compared with shrubs, grasses, and some other concepts, will be found to have certain qualities which are also common to all of them. These we combine together under one term and call them vegetables. Every tree is a vegetable, every shrub and every kind of grass is a vegetable. Of course, as the higher contains all the lower, it must necessarily contain all that they contain. Hence all classes of trees and all classes of shrubs and grasses, and all individuals of each class, are also vegetables. There is another noticeable feature in the relation of Denomina- these higher and lower concepts as presented objects cor- m ^ ie diagram. Perhaps if we put it in a sin- responds gle column we may be able to comprehend it Within- i i rr.U crease of more clearly. Thus : — qualities, and vice versa. Vegetable. Tree. Sugar Maple. This Sugar Maple. CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 105 As we go from below upward we notice that the num- ber of objects in the several classes or concepts in- creases. Thus, at the bottom we have onlv a . J As we go single individual — one sugar maple. In the from the in- next above we have this particular sugar maple thTsummum and many others. In the class above this we genus the , ',-.,. t t n t number of have not only this sugar maple and all other objects in- sugar maples, but all other kinds of maples be- creases- sides. In the next higher class are comprised all those of which we have spoken — all the maples and the classes and individuals included in them — also all oaks and pines and elms, and all other trees of every sort. While in the highest class are contained all the trees, and in addition to these, all shrubs and grasses and whatever else comes under the head of vegetables. There are very many more vegetables than there are trees ; many more trees than maples; and many individual sugar maples. On the other hand we shall find a diminution as well as an increase as we go from the lower to the higher ; but the diminution will be in the number of qualities, B . . and not of objects. This sugar maple has all the a diminution qualities that belong to all sugar maples, and berofquaii- some that no other sugar maple has. Sugar ties " maples also have all the qualities that maples as such have, and some which they do not have, and which make these not only maples, but sugar maples. Again, maples have all the qualities that belong to trees, and others that are not implied in the concept tree. So of trees in rela- tion to vegetables. In every upward step from lower to higher concepts, there is a dropping off of qualities and a taking on of objects. This phenomenon may be repre- 106 PSYCHOLOGY. sented in two columns, the one increasing as we go from the top to the bottom, and the other decreasing : — Vegetable Vegetable Tree Tree Maple Maple Sugar Maple Sugar Maple This Sugar Maple This Sugar Maple Here, then, we have two wholes ; the one of Extension, the other of Intension. The former has reference to the The two quantity of the concept, or the number of objects wholes of contained under it. The latter pertains to the and inten- quality of the concept ; that is, the number of S10n ' different characteristics implied in it. It has been observed that as we go up the column, the num- ber of objects increases and the number of qualities diminishes ; or the extension increases as the intension diminishes. As we go down the column, the intension increases and the extension diminishes. In other words, the extension and intension are in the inverse proportion to each other. The highest class of the objects under consideration is called the Summum Genus. The lowest class, that cannot be Summum further divided, except into individuals, is called genus and t j le Infima Species. The individual, as its name species. implies, is that which is not logically divisible. CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 107 It may be physically divided into parts, but these parts would have no logical concept of which the individual was a member. Thus we may divide animals The indi- into vertebrates, radiates, mollusks, etc. ; verte- logically brates into quadrupeds and bipeds; quadra- dlvlslble - peds into horses, dogs, goats, sheep, etc.; horses into Shetland ponies, mustangs, war-horses, and others ; war- horses into individuals, of which Bucephalus may be one. Now Bucephalus may be killed and divided up into head, legs, hide, entrails, and carcass ; but none of - these is a horse : whereas in the divisions . . , . . ,. . , ,. . . In physical previous to this, each part or division m divisions no all the grades may be called by the name of caiMbytL the class above it. Bucephalus is a war-horse ; name of the a war-horse is a horse, and a horse is a quadru- ped, and a quadruped is a vertebrate, and a vertebrate is an animal, as is each of the subordinate classes through all the grades down to the individual Bucepha- lus. The Absolute Summum G-enus is the Abso i ute highest possible class, that which can never be summum a species* Thus Being cannot be a species of anything ; it includes all objects in the universe under it, and has but a single quality. It is of great importance to have accurate conceptions. There can be no healtlry and valuable thinking with- out this. The three great virtues of think- „, , ing are Clearness, Distinctness, and Adequacy, great virtues mi ,! ,. . _ _ . of conception- I he three corresponding vices are Confusion, Obscurity, and Inadequacy. A conception is clear when we can separate a particular concept from all others. It is somewhat the same as in perception. We clearly perceive a man when we dis- 108 PSYCHOLOGY. tinguish him from other objects. In the dimness of the light or in the distance we may not be able to make ont clearly whether the object seen is a stump, or a bush, or some animal ; but as we come nearer, or the light grows stronger, we satisfy ourselves that it is a man, and not one of the other objects men- tioned. What is true of perception is true of other cog- nitions and especially of concepts. Many persons do not clearly distinguish Zoology from Natural History, Per- cept from Perception, Thought from Mental Activity, Trade from Commerce, Pride from Vanity, Self-respect from Pride, or Selfishness from Self-love. Yet clear- ness in thinking demands this discrimination, and for want of this discrimination arises the vice of mental confusion. Distinctness of conception exists not only when we are able to separate the cognition from other cognitions, but also to designate the marks which distinguish Distinctness- . , r™ i i it. ihere are many cases where we have what is called a clear cognition, but at the same time it is not distinct. In the illustration previously given, of knowing that the object was a man, and not a stump or a bush, most persons might make the discrimination that would enable them to decide positively that the object was a man ; but the great majority, if asked for their reasons for so deciding, could not give them — in other words, they cannot give the marks of the object. This is often the case in all sorts of cognitions. Thus in the familiar illustration of the handwriting of intimate friends. We see a letter or other document in a certain style of chirog- raphy, and we at once decide that it is the handwriting of a certain person with whose style of writing we are famil- CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 109 iar. We have no doubt about it, and on the witness-stand in a court-room under oath, might feel no hesitation in cting this. But if the cross-examining lawyer should ask us how we knoiv that this is the handwriting of the person alleged, we probably should not be able to answer. We could not give the marks that distinguish it from the writing of other persons. So, too, we meet persons whom we know instantly. They are not very unlike a score of other persons whom we know ; but if asked to identify them by particular marks, we could not do so ; we could not tell in what respect any one of them differed from any one of a certain number of other persons. An expert in penmanship, in the case of handwriting, could do this ; so could a man who had made a study of physiognomies, point out the particular marks which distinguish one man from another. To be able to do this is to have a distinct cognition. It is so in the use of common terms. The man who has only a clear conception will be accurate enough for most purposes ; but there are times when greater pre- cision is required, and then distinctness of conception is necessary. It is frequently necessary to go even further than this. Our conceptions must in certain cases not only be clear and distinct, but they must be Adequate. We Adequate- must be able to separate the concept from other n ess. concepts, and to give the marks by which this separate concept may be tested ; we must be able also to ana- lyze the marks themselves and give their The marks of elements ; in other words, to give the marks the marks. of the marks. Thus in the concept man: I know that he differs from other objects ; I can also give the marks by which he is thus distinguished, — as, that he is ani- 110 PSYCHOLOGY. mal and rational. If asked to explain what I mean by these terms, I must be able to give the marks of animal and rational, and show that the former is distinguished by organization • and sentiency ; and the latter by intelli- gence and reason. Careful, exact, and critical thought must have all these virtues. DIVISION AND DEFINITION. These virtues of which I have spoken as essential to all good thinking will be very greatly promoted by the care- Office of ft*! study of the Division and Definition of con- division, cepts. The former of these terms relates to the explication of the concept considered as a whole of exten- Office of s i° n > that i s ' with reference to the quantity, or definition. the number, of objects comprised under it. Definition, on the other hand, relates to the quality of the concept ; that is, it is the unfolding of the whole of inten- sion. This, then, is to be particularly borne in mind : that the division of a concept consists in separating it into its constituent parts ; and that definition consists in separating it into its constituent qualities. RULES FOR DIVISION. 1. It must proceed from genera to species in regular order and not arbitrarily. To divide men into Europeans, In- Must pro- dians, Australians, Chinamen, Mexicans, and genera"™ Malaysians, would be a violation of this rule, species- They might be divided geographically, first, according to continental arrangement, and then each of these chief divisions might be subdivided. 2. There must be one fundamental principle of division. CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. Ill It would not do, for instance, to divide Americans into Vir- ginians, New Englanders, Protestants, Catholics, 0nefunda . Agriculturists, Clergymen, etc. Some might mental prin thus be found in two or three divisions, and cip some might not be included anywhere. 3. The divisions must be mutually exclusive, ; otherwise we might be involved in the same errors as noticed Mutually under Rule 2. exclusive - 4. The sum of all the parts should be exactly Sum of the equal to the concept to be divided; each member equal to tne y must be less than the division or class to be whole, divided. 5. It must not be by negatives, or what is called in Logic by Inflnitation. To divide men into English- Not by- men and those who are not Englishmen, is a complete division, but it is also of no value. I have already spoken of the difference between logical division and physical division. The individual cannot be logically divided, for the reason that its several Lo . ^ and parts have no logical relation to the concepts physical of which it is a member. No one of the parts of a horse can be called a horse. But each individual horse is a quadruped, a mammal, a vertebrate, an animal. It will be readily noticed that this subject of division is one of great importance in all our thinking, and does not confine itself exclusively to scientific classifica- i mp0 rtance tion. It is most essential to a man who is called of division, upon for public addresses, in the writing of essays and treatises, in plans of business and of statesmanship. One can hardly set forth clearly any purpose or project without some practical acquaintance with these principles. 112 PSYCHOLOGY. RULES FOR DEFINITION. Definition gives the marks of conceptions, and thus bounds them off from all other conceptions, so that we not only- import of know that they differ, but in what respect they definition- differ. 1. Definition must be by marks which distinguish the thing defined from all the other members of the next class By essen- above it. In other words, it must be by essential tial marks, marks. By essential marks we mean that the definition must be in terms of the class above the concept to be denned, and those qualities which distinguish it from other concepts of the same class. The concept to be de- fined is always a species of some genus, and it must be defined in terms of that genus and the differentia, or the marks by which it differs from that genus. The formula may be expressed thus : Species = Genus + Differentia. As an illustrative example, take the following : — Man = Animal + Rational ; or Man is a rational animal. Here we have Man, the concept to be defined ; and the definition, consisting of Animal, the genus of Man, with the addition of the differentia Rational, which marks him off from animals generally. 2. A definition should never include the name of the thing defined, or any term etymologically connected with it. Should Thus, we should not define vivacity as " speak- never include • writing' in a vivacious manner." This is the name of & ° die definitum- tautological. It also is similar to defining in a circle, which is to be avoided. Thus it would not be logi- cal to define light as " an illuminating force," and then, if asked to explain further, to define illuminating as "the giving of light." CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 113 3. It must include all the objects covered by the concept to be defined, and nothing else. If we define a Must in horse as a quadruped, we are including some- elude all the thing more than the thing to be defined. If we defined, and define it as a Shetland pony, we are not includ- nothin s else - ing enough, since there are other horses besides Shetland ponies. 4. It must not be by negatives ; as, to define a sheep as not a goat, gives us no positive information Must not be Whatever. by negatives- 5. It must be precise, and free from surplus words. " Parallel lines are those that never meet," is not an ade- quate definition, since they might be in different „ f planes and never meet, and yet not be parallel, surplus " Parallelograms are rectilineal, four-sided fig- ures, whose opposite sides are parallel and equal," is not a good definition, since the words " and equal " are unneces- sary, and they are therefore misleading, as giving the im- pression that there may be parallelograms whose opposite sides are parallel but not equal. 114 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER III. JUDGMENT. Judgment is that act of the mind by which, on the com- parison of two concepts, or an individual and a concept, ive affirm that they agree or disagree. Thus we take bird and animal. On comparing them together, if we fully understand these concepts, we find that bird has all the qualities that belong to animal; we may therefore assert that they agree ; that is, that a bird is an animal. So, on the other hand, if we compare the conceptions man and angel, we shall find that neither of them has the qualities that belong to the other ; hence we may assert that they do not agree, or that no man is an angel. Judgment, it will be observed, is a mental process. A judgment is a mental product ; and when expressed in . . . language the expression is called a proposition. andaproposi- It always consists of two terms (from termini, the extremes) and a copida. One of the terms is called the Subject, and the other the Predicate. The Predicate subject is that of which something is asserted, and subject. The predicate is that which is asserted of the subject. The copula is that by which the assertion is made, and is always some form of the present indicative of the verb to be, or is capable of being reduced to that form. Thus, in the proposition, " Csesar conquered Gaul," JUDGMENT. 115 there is expressed no form of the verb to be, and there is no copula separate from the predicate. But what is implied, and will fully appear when the proposition is fully explicated, is, " Csesar is the man who conquered Gaul." The following analysis of the process of judgment has been given by Crousaz, as quoted by Sir William Hamil- ton : " In fine, when we judge, we must have, Crousaz . in the first place, at least two notions ; in the analysis of a second place, we compare these ; in the third, JU gmen ' we recognize that one contains or excludes the other ; and in the fourth, we acquiesce in the recognition." Judgments are variously classified, according to the points of view from which they are contemplated. First, they are regarded in respect to Quantity. By Judgments the quantity of a judgment is meant the relation classified. of the predicate to the extension of the subject;- that is, whether the predicate is of the whole or some indefinite part of the subject. With respect to Quantity, judgments are either Universal, Particular, or Singular. They are universal when the predicate is affirmed or denied of the subject taken dis- .. . . n , . . . Universal- tributively, or when the assertion is concerning the whole of the subject, as, "All men are mortal;" "No horses are bipeds." Judgments are particular when the predicate is affirmed or denied of an indefinite (.,,. r, ,, Particular, part of the subject, as, " borne men are poets ; "Some animals are vertebrates." Judgments are singu- lar when the predicate is affirmed or denied of an indi- vidual, as, " Columbus discovered America ; " or of a plurality of individuals taken collec- tively, as, " This army is invincible." Singular judgments 116 PSYCHOLOGY. are treated as universals, since the predication is of the Singular whole subject. Also, when any definite part of treated^! a su bj ect is taken, the judgment is to be universals. regarded as universal. " These men are natives of Ireland." Here the predication is of all that is con- tained in the subject, and the word with its limiting adjunct is a definite whole as it would not be if we were Distributed to say "some men." A word is said to be terms. Distributed when the whole of the concept is taken ; it is Undistributed when only an indefinite part is taken. The Quality of a judgment has reference to the Quality agreement or disagreement of the subject and affirmative or predicate. The distinction of judgments in this respect is that they are either Affirmative or Negative. Propositions are affirmative when they have an affirmative copula, and negative when the copula is negative. Sometimes the proposition is affirmative when it may seem to be negative, and vice versa. " All men who are not righteous are wicked," is an affirmative proposition, since the negative falls not in the copula, but modifies the subject. So, too, " Few men are saints," is in form affirm- ative, but virtually negative, because it is equivalent to saying that " Most men are not saints." In respect to Quantity and Quality, then, there are, accord- Four kinds ni £ to tne °^ logicians, four kinds of judg- of judg- ments, which it is customary to symbolize by the letters A, E, I, and O, thus : Universal Affirmative, A. Universal Negative, E. Particular Affirmative, I. Particular Negative, 0. JUDGMENT. 117 The later logicians have added two more kinds based upon the doctrine of a Quantified or Distributed Predi- cate. According to the ordinary forms of affirm- Distributed ative propositions, the predicate is not distrib- predicate. uted ; that is, there is nothing in the form that indicates its distribution. Still it may be actually distributed from the very nature of the case. Thus, when we say, "All men are mortal," we know that all men are not all the mortals there are. So, too, when we say, '■' Men are ra- tional animals," so far as the form of the proposition is concerned there may be other rational animals besides men. But as a matter of fact, we know that the two terms " men " and " rational animals " are co-extensive, since men are all the rational animals there are ; therefore the predicate is distributed as well as the subject. So, too, when we say, " Some quadrupeds are horses," they are all the horses .; hence, in fact though not in form, the predicate is distributed. We thus have two more kinds of judgments which are of some value in logic. They are called Universal Substitutive, U. Particular Substitutive, Y. But these we need not discuss further. Judgments are further divided into Categorical and Hypothetical. A Categorical judgment is one in which one concept is directly affirmed or ■ denied of categorical another, or of an individual. A Hypothetical judgments, judgment is one in which the assertion is contingent, or de- pends upon some other fact or statement. Hy- Hypothetical pothetical judgments are divided into Conditional, judgments. Disjunctive, and Dilemmatic. A Conditional judgment is 118 PSYCHOLOGY. one in which such a relation exists between two mem- bers of the judgment, known respectively as Antecedent Conditional anc ^ Consequent, that if the former is true, judgments, the latter is true also ; and if the latter is false, the former is also false ; but if the former is false, or the latter true, nothing follows as to the other ; as, " If A is B, C is D." A Disjunctive judgment asserts the connection between the subject and predicate with an alternative indicated by Disjunctive the particles either and or, as " John will either judgments. ea t ^g ca ke or keep it." If one is denied, the other is true. A Dilemmatic judgment involves a combi- nation of the Conditional and Disjunctive. Thus, " If we Dilemmatic sa y John's baptism was from heaven, we con- judgments, clemn ourselves ; if we say it was from men, the people will stone us." That is, " If we either say it was from heaven, or of men, we shall either condemn our- selves, or the people will stone us." Judgments are either Problematical or Assertory or Apodictic. They are Problematical when we are neither Problematic certain of them ourselves, nor can we make judgments. others certain of them ; as the judgment that " Jupiter is inhabited." Such statements can be only matters of opinion. An Assertory judgment is one which Assertory ma y be subjectively certain, but not objectively judgments. so • that is, the asserter may be certain of it, but cannot make any one else certain of it. For instance, I am certain of some mental affection or operation ; but I cannot prove this to another, only so far as he takes my Apodictic word for it. Such are matters of religious judgments, faith. Apodictic judgments are those which are both subjectively and objectively certain ; they are JUDGMENT. 119 known beyond any peradventure to the person who asserts them, and they compel the assent of all who hear them. The statements that a part of a thing is less than the whole, that the sum of all the parts is equal to the whole, that two things equal to a third thing are equal to each other, are of this kind. All necessary truths come under this head. Judgment is the essential and radical factor in all thinking or thought ; and thinking or thought is the pro- cess or product of the discursive faculties. In judgment a rudimentary and primitive way judgment is factorSif involved in all the operations of this depart- thought, ment of the mind. Its conspicuous characteristic is com- parison, and this operation we found almost in the very beginning of the process of generalization, or the forming of concepts. So that, though in its logical sense and use of the judgment, it must have a concept for - . one of its terms, yet in its strictly psychologi- preceding cal character it must have existed in each mind before concepts could be formed. Still this process in its rudimentary character is so subtile, evanescent, and vague, that little notice is taken of it, and the statements con- cerning it are, for the most part, unsatisfactory. Never- theless it must .not be ignored, or lost sight of, that all real thinking is essentially judging. Judgment ah real is the prominent element in all reasoning, essentially not only as a condition for this process but as judging. being a part of it. We always reason in judgments, start- ing from judgments, which in the syllogism are compared with each other, judging of the truth of the conclusion, which is also itself a judgment. This thinking or judging, too, is, so far as we can dis- 120 PSYCHOLOGY. cern, a perpetual operation of the mind. It is doubtful if there is any action of the intellect from which it is absent ; or any portion of our waking or possibly of our sleeping hours when it ceases. If a person should take himself up at almost any moment, and inquire concerning the present or immediately past operation of his mind, if he recalls it at all, it is exceedingly probable that he has been compar- ing certain thoughts or concepts or representations, and affirming or denying something concerning their agree- ment. His mind has been asserting that this is this, or that it is not something else. The objects may be those of perception or of memory or reflection, but there always accompanies the mental act some thought or judgment. " All thought is a comparison, a recognition of simi- larity or difference, a conjunction or disjunction ; in other Sir William words, a synthesis or analysis of its objects, functions * n conception, that is, in the formation of con- of judgment, cepts (or general notions), it compares, disjoins or conjoins attributes ; in an act of judgment, it com- pares, disjoins, or conjoins concepts ; in reasoning it com- pares, disjoins, or conjoins judgments. In each step of this process there is one essential element ; to think, to compare, or disjoin, it is necessary to recognize one thing through or under another. It is in performing this act of thinking a thing under a general notion, that we are said to understand or comprehend it. For example : An object is presented, say, a book ; this object determines an impres- sion, and I am even conscious of the impression, but with- out recognizing to myself what the thing is ; in that case there is only a perception, and not properly a thought. But, suppose I do recognize it for what it is, compare it with or reduce it under a certain concept, class, or comple- JUDGMENT. 121 ment of attributes, which I call booh ; in that case there is more than a perception — there is a thought." 1 This will help us to understand what is meant when we say- that rudimentary or primitive judgment is involved in all our discursive processes. 1 Sir William Hamilton : Lectures on Logic. 122 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER IV. REASONING AND INFERENCE. What is meant by Reasoning is the deriving from judgments previously given, of other judgments founded upon them; or "that operation of the mind through which it forms one judgment from many others." The constitution of things is such that certain facts are so connected with certain other facts, or Existence of so mv °l ve d- in them, that the existence of the certain former implies that of the latter, and if we plied in That know the one we know the other also, though of others. we ma y j iave no m eans of knowing the latter, except through the medium of our knowledge of the former. Thus, if I see a man on this side of a long river at ten o'clock in the morning, and see him on the other side at eleven o'clock, I know that he has crossed the river in the meantime, though I have not seen him do so, nor in any way perceived the act of crossing, nor have learned it through any testimony. I know it simply from the relations of the other known facts, which are such that if they are or were actual, this must also be actual. And I know this just as certainly as if I had myself perceived it. This I take to be substantially a type of most of our reasoning. The determination of the relation of facts, whether perceptions, acts, deliverances of the Inner-Sense, or of the regulative faculty, is by a process of the mind which has REASONING AND INFERENCE. 123 already been described, and which is designated as Judg- ment. The expression of this in language is called a Proposition. As previously shown, . the essential element in reasoning, as in all preliminary thinking processes, is judgment. We reason from judgment to judgments ; and the determining of the relations of judgments, and what is involved in them, and whether it be inferential or not, is of the nature of a judgment. Reasoning is commonly divided into Deductive and Inductive — or reasoning from general classes to particular classes or to individuals, and reasoning from Deductive individuals or particular classes to general facts and induc- j . . , tive. and principles. A difference is also to be observed between Reasoning and Inference. The difference is much the same as between Analytic and Synthetic reasoning. In the former Reasonin » case the conclusion is stated first in the form andinfer- of a proposition to be proved ; in the latter the grounds or facts from which we reason are stated first, and the conclusion inferred from them. All oaks are vegetables, because all trees are vegetables, and all oaks are trees. This is analytic reasoning; that is, a proposition is stated, and we look about for its proof. We separate into parts, and compare the several parts with Analytic another object in such a way that we find a reasoning, substantial reason for the truth of the proposition. All trees are vegetables ; All oaks are trees ; All oaks are vegetables. 124 PSYCHOLOGY. This is synthetic. Two propositions are found in such relations to each other that they necessarily imply a third, Synthetic or by a combination — a synthesis of the ele- reasoning. ments of the two — we have a third which is an inference from them. inference Inference is further either Immediate or Mediate. mediate and It is immediate when one judgment is inferred from another without the intervention or medi- ation of a third judgment. There are several forms of Immediate Inference, the most common of which are by Opposition and by Conversion. OPPOSITION. Two judgments are said to be in opposition when they have the same subject and predicate, but differ in quantity or quality, or both. When they differ in quality only, it is called Contrary or Sub-contrary opposition. When they differ in quantity only, it is called Subaltern opposition. When they differ in both quality and quantity it is called Contradictory opposition. The value of tins method of reasoning is that we imme- diately infer from one proposition the truth or falsehood of the opposite. All men are poets. A. *> No men are poets. E. These two propositions are in contrary opposition. From the truth of the former we infer the falsity of the latter; Contrary Du t; not the truth of the latter from the falsity opposition. f ^ ie former; since both cannot be true, but both may be false, as in this particular case. REASONING AND INFERENCE. 125 Some men are poets. I. Some men are not poets. 0. These are Sub-contraries. From the falsity of the one we infer the truth of the other ; but from the sub-contrary truth of the one we infer- nothing concerning opposition, the other, since they may both be true, as in this in- stance they are. All men are poets. A. Some men are poets. I. and No men are poets. E. Some men are not poets. 0. In each case if the former is true, the latter must be true also ; but from the truth of the latter nothing follows con- cerning the former. From the falsehood of subaltern the latter the falsehood of the former follows ; opposition, though from the falsehood of the former nothing follows concerning the latter. All men are poets. A. Some men are not poets. 0. No men are poets. E. Some men are poets. I. Here it will be seen that in each case, if either of the two opposites be true, the other must be false ; if either be false, the other must be true ; and that one must Contradic- be false and the other true. This is the strongest tory opposi tion- kind of opposition. This kind of inference is useful in cases where, though it would not be convenient, perhaps not possible, to prove the truth or falsehood of a 126 PSYCHOLOGY. particular proposition, we may nevertheless easily prove Value of in- the truth or falsehood of its opposite; and if the meansof 7 opposition is of the kind that serves our pur- opposition. pose, we may draw an immediate inference from the proposition proved as to the truth or falsehood of its opposite. Thus in any argument we say sometimes, " It is impossible to prove a negative." This is not always true, but it is sometimes true. In such a case as this, if we can find means to prove the truth of the contradictory of the proposition we wish to negative, this is equivalent to disproving the proposition in question, since the truth of the contradictory implies the falsehood of its opposite. CONVERSION. By this we mean the changing of places of the subject and predicate, in such a way that the Converse is an infer- Oonversion ence from the Convertend. This is the only defined. kind of illative conversion, or that in which an inference may be drawn from the original proposition to its converse. Thus, — Some men are wise beings ; Some wise beings are men, — is an illative conversion, since the latter proposition is a necessary and obvious inference from the former. All dogs are animals ; All animals are dogs, — this is conversion, but it is not illative ; there is no inference of the latter from the former. REASONING AND INFERENCE. 127 The general rule governing the logical character of conversion is that no term must be distributed Ru j e for in the converse which was not distributed in conversion. the convertend. Conversion, in .order to be logical, then, sometimes re- quires a change in quantity or quality. Hence the follow- ing different kinds of conversion. 1. Simple Conversion is when there is no change simple either in quantity or quality, as, — conversion. Some Orientals are Christians ; Some Christians are Orientals. No men are angels ; No angels are men. 2. Conversion by limitation, or per accidens, as it is some- times called, is when the quantity is changed conversion from universal to particular. by limitation. All Germans are Europeans ; All Europeans are Germans. Here we could not make the inference by simple con- version that all Europeans are Germans. In no case are we warranted by the form of the conversion to infer a uni- versal affirmative from a universal affirmative, or A from A. But there are cases in which we know more than certain cases the form of the proposition implies, or know that whe f. e * he x r r predicate, the predicate, though not distributed in form, is though not distributed in fact; as in the proposition, "All Jributed/fs men are rational animals." Here we know that so m fact. men are all the rational animals there are, though the form 128 PSYCHOLOGY. indicates nothing of the kind. Hence we are justified in saying that " All rational animals are men." But ordinar- ily we can convert A only by limitation. 3. Conversion by negation or contra-position is when the quality is changed. This is a somewhat awkward process, but nevertheless violates no law of thought. Take, for instance, the proposition, — Some men are not poets. We cannot infer from this that some poets are not men, but we can change the quality without changing the sense. Some men are non-poets ; or Some men are persons who are not poets. That is, we transfer the negative particle from the copula to the predicate, and thus make an affirmative proposition of what was before a negative. We may now convert simply, — Some persons who are not poets are men ; or Some non-poets are men. This method of inference by Conversion, like that by Opposition, is useful in many instances where it might not utility of ^e convenient, or perhaps possible, to prove a inference by certain proposition, but where we might easily conversion. . ; . -i prove its converse, and, this being proved, we can easily infer the needed judgment. MEDIATE INFERENCE. Three judg- As previously indicated, most of our reason- voived, but to m g involves three judgments. These are not have some re- an% . -judgments selected at random or arbitra- tion to & J o each other, rily. Thus, if we say, — REASONING AND INFERENCE. 129 An army is a military organization ; Washington was a patriot, — we can infer nothing, since they have no such relation to each other as to imply a third. But when we say, — All horses are vertebrates ; All Shetland ponies are horses ; \ • All Shetland ponies are vertebrates, — we see at a glance that the relations of the first two propo- sitions are such that the last inevitably follows. Also, if we should say, — No men are angels ; All Americans are men ; v No Americans are angels,. — we should be compelled to acknowledge that if the first two propositions are true, the last must be true also. Mediate Reasoning is a process of the mind. When ex- pressed in language it is called an Argument. An argu- ment in regular form is a Syllogism. The syllo- Reasoning, gism consists of two parts ; namely, that from andsyUo*' which the proof proceeds, and that which is gism- proved. The former consists of two propositions called Premises. The latter is the Conclusion. The p rem i SeS and premises are Major and Minor. conclusions. There are in every syllogism three terms, and only three : the Major Term, the Minor Term, and the Middle Term. The manor term is the predicate of the conclusion, ,, . J • . Major, minor, and the minor term the subject of the conclu- and middle sion. The middle term is not found in the con- erms ' 130 PSYCHOLOGY. elusion, but is found in botli the premises. The major Maior and premise is that proposition in which the major minor prem- term is compared with the middle term ; and the minor premise, that in which the minor term is compared with the middle term. The middle term, as Function of w ^ r eadily be seen, is the medium through the middle which the relationship between the major and minor terms is established. Thus, in the case previously given, if some one should hear of oaks for the first time, but did not know what they were, and whether they were vegetables or not, but should be informed that they were trees, and knowing that trees were vegetables, it would be seen at once that, taking these two facts together, they imply a third; namely, that oaks are vegetables. This is brought about by the mediation of the middle term trees. The great general principle of syllogistic reasoning is Aristotle's dictum, that " Whatever is affirmed or denied Dictum of °f an y class taken distributively can be affirmed Anstotie. or deified of every class and every individual contained in that class." Sir William Hamilton, also, has Hamilton's a maxim of general application to the effect that maxim. u Whatever may be affirmed or denied of a whole may be affirmed or denied of each of its parts." Dr. Hop- Dr. Hopkins's kins does n °t accept these as applicable to all objection. kinds of syllogisms, or to all kinds of proposi- tions from which inferences may be drawn. It is probable that, so far as the strict form is concerned, he is correct. Certainly it is not precisely on either of these principles that we proceed in the following deduction : A is equal to B ; C is equal to A ; v C is equal to B ; — REASONING AND INFERENCE. 131 but rather on the mathematical axiom that things equal to a third thing are equal to each other. A certainly is not in this case a part of B, nor is it contained in it, except by a rather strained construction of language. The same is true of C in relation to A. Still instances of this kind are so rare that they may be regarded as exceptional, and the dictum and maxim hold good generally. But we are to take note that reasoning is by no means generally so simple as this. An important question can seldom be settled by a single syllogism, nor by Reasonin „ two, nor by half a dozen ; frequently not by a not usually score of syllogisms. Many pages, and some- intheex 6 .^ times Avhole volumes, have to be written to prove am P les g^en. a single proposition. A series of arguments in which the conclusion of one becomes the premise of another has to be made. Always when one person tries find some to convince another of the truth of a proposition, o^hfchthey he must find one or more propositions on which agree, to rea- they both agree. Unless this can be done, argu- argument is ment must be useless. Having ascertained such useless - a basis of agreement, the process must often be a long one, and by a series of inferences involving an equal number of syllogisms before the conclusion is reached. Sometimes the main syllogism leading to the final con- clusion is formally set forth, and its reasoning is seen to be unimpeachable ; but the premises are not The reason . admitted by the other party to the discussion, imjmaybe One or both of them in that case must be premises proved. This implies an argument, and proba- false ' bly a number of arguments, in their support. Thus, if it were a question whether a protective tariff were a proper policy for a nation to adopt, the argument might be form- ally stated somewhat as follows : 132 PSYCHOLOGY. All measures that tend to promote home production are beneficial ; ■ A protective tariff does this ; v A protective tariff is beneficial. The reasoning here is without a flaw. But the difficulty would be that the two parties to the discussion are not agreed on the truth of the premises. Possibly both might agree to the truth of the major premise ; but the truth of the minor would certainly be denied by some. Hence, the necessity of proving it — that is, of proving the minor premise in the foregoing syllogism. Supposing it to be attempted in the following syllogism : Every policy that increases the number of industries promotes home production ; A protective tariff does this ; v It promotes home production. Here, again, the reasoning is correct ; but the opponent may deny one of these premises — more likely the minor — which, in turn, must be supported by argument ; and so on till the parties get back to propositions concerning which they agree. This will be further complicated by the fact that in most of our reasoning, even that which is in form demonstrative, we arrive at conclusions that are only more or less probable. Hence we prove the propo- sition we wish to establish, usually, not by a single course of argumentation, but by several lines, each terminating in a probability of approximating certainty, the aggregate probabilities making one still more nearly certain. KINDS OF SYLLOGISMS. Syllogisms are divided into Categorical and Hypothetical. Categorical syllogisms are such as those we have been REASONING AND INFERENCE. 133 hitherto considering. They are syllogisms in which the premises and conclusions are simple unconditional con- clusions. A Hypothetical syllogism is one in which the reasoning turns on a hypothesis, or a supposition. A syllogism may contain hypothetical judgments, and }^et not be Hypothetical a hypothetical syllogism, for the reason that the syllogisms, inference does not turn upon the hypothesis. As, for instance : A is either BorC; D is A; •.• D is either B or C. Here the reasoning does not turn on the hypothesis ; hence it is not a hypothetical syllogism. Hypothetical syllogisms are divided into Conditional, Disjunctive, and Dilemmatic. A Conditional syllogism is one which has a conditional judgment for its major premise, and the affirmation or denial of one of its members for the minor pre- conditional mise. The nature of the conditional syllogism syllogisms, is such that : (a) If the antecedent of the major be affirmed in the minor, the consequent must be affirmed in the con- clusion. (6) If the consequent be denied, the antecedent must be also denied. ( °^ course > different degrees of hope ; some- h °P e - times it is of the feeblest character, and again of the strongest and boldest, approximating perfect conn- THE EMOTIONS. 191 dence. It is one of the most effective motives of action, and a person's character and success in life are determined very largely by the place this occu- pies. It encourages effort and inspires great deeds ; it also supports the soul under the severest trials and hard- ships. It anticipates pleasures and prosperities in the future, when there are none in the present. Its anticipa- tions sometimes take the place of joys that never come. " Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never is, but always to be, blest." Fear has two significations. One of these makes it the opposite of Hope. It is thus made up of expectation and negative desire, or aversion. We fear that gignifica- which we expect, but desire not to be. This, tions of fear - like hope, has different degrees. It may be a mild dis- quietude, or it may be utter despair, and thus in peculiar instances exceedingly distressing. Fear in its other signification is the feeling we have in view of something certain or possible to come into our experience. It is the state of mind which is meant when we speak of being afraid. Chil- dren are afraid of the dark or of strangers. Older persons are afraid of certain other persons because of their charac- ter, or of certain possibilities of conduct in them as affect- ing those brought in contact with them. In „ , this sense it is not the exact opposite of hope, opposite of though there is usually something of expecta- ° pe ' tion in it. In its more serious forms it becomes dread, and deepens into alarm, and terror. The last term expresses a condition in which one partially or wholly loses self-con- trol by the intensity of the fear. It is distinguished from 192 PSYCHOLOGY. despair by the condition of violent agitation and excite- ment which characterizes it, while the characteristic of the latter is lifelessness, and resignation to fate. Still we sometimes speak of one's being "paralyzed by terror." This doubtless indicates the physical rather than the mental effect. Horror represents a cognate feeling to fear and terror, but perhaps differs mainly in this, that we may fear and be in terror of that which is not in itself hideous or repulsive. In horror there is always a pronounced element of detestation, a shrinking from the object or act as something unendurable and abominable in Itself. THE MORAL EMOTIONS. 193 CHAPTER IV. THE MORAL EMOTIONS. This is not the place to enter extensively upon the sub- ject of Ethics, but a* few words may be necessary in order to put our immediate topic in its proper light. Relation to It is to be taken for granted that the words ethics - right and wrong have a definite and well-understood mean- ing, and that they refer to certain classes of actions. By the use of our intellectual powers we ascertain whether an action is right or wrong, just as we determine what actions are wise and what are unwise, what are healthful or un- healthful, graceful or awkward. In making this estimate of moral conduct, there must be taken into account cir- cumstances, conditions, motives, intentions, etc., as there are comparatively few acts the moral character of which is the same in all cases. The moral emotions . . arise on the contemplation of actions thus deter- moral emo- mined as right or wrong. In observing a right action there is a distinct feeling of approval ; in an opposite instance there is an equally distinct feeling of disapproval. There are three cases to be considered: . XTT1 , . , . Three cases. 1. When a person determines that a certain action is right for him to do, and wrong not to do. In this case there is a feeling of obligation, an impulse to do it, inclining him towards the right and away from the wrong. It will be noticed that this feeling is consequent upon the determination or judgment concern- 194 PSYCHOLOGY. ing the character of the act, and is no part of that judg- ment. It is a natural and inevitable consequence of that judgment. This, it seems to me, is the peculiar and essen- tial function of Conscience. Indeed, it may be doubted if there is any other function which can be shown to be so closely connected with this as to be properly regarded a modification of it. There is certainly no need that Conscience do the judging and reasoning which are here implied, since the same faculties which usually do the judging and reasoning about other matters are fully competent for the same office here. In this view .... of Conscience as a simple impulsive faculty or A simple lm- r x J puisive force, we have a power that acts uniformly and universally, and which is also, in its proper sphere, infallible. That is, it always impels us to do what we judge to be right, and not to do what ive judge to be wrong. It does this if it does anything. It may be so misused or abused as to become inactive, or we may so habitually disregard its monitions that at last we cease to feel them ; but whenever its voice is heard at all, it always urges to do what one's judgment and reason approve as right, and it does this in all men. 2. When we have done a wrong act, the consequent emotion is one of disapproval, and when we have acted Feeling of rightly, it is one of approval. The former con- ofTwronff 1 se( l uence is more conspicuous than the latter, act. inasmuch as it is more natural to do right than to do wrong ; and therefore we do not notice the effect, it is so much a matter of course, unless it be in a case where great temptation to act wrongly has been resisted. The connection of this phase of moral feeling with the previous one is obvious. In both the sense of obligation, of ought THE MORAL EMOTIONS. 195 or ought not, is present; in the former, as something to be complied with, an imperative which we are not at liberty to disregard; in the latter, as something which has been violated, and which consequently brings pain and condem- nation, — a sense of guilt and ill-desert. 3. There is, in the third place, the feeling we have when we observe the right or wrong actions of others, — of ap- proval if they do right, and disapproval if they do wrong. There is in the latter no sense of self- ^ilapprovaf condemnation, but the feeling probably arises Otters. ° f from the reflection that if we were in the place of the persons observed we should have this feeling, and therefore we condemn their conduct as we would have con- demned our own. It is, as in the first case, a disapproval or approval, as the case may be, of conduct in others which has been first realized in our own experience. There are several terms representing the feelings implied in Conscience, or more or less closely affiliated with it. They are Repentance, Penitence, Contrition, Compunction, and Remorse. Repentance is a general term indicating regret and sorrow for certain actions and courses of conduct, and a disposition or purpose to do the opposite in the future. R Penitence is more usually expressive of this feel- and peni- ing in relation to religious conduct. Contrition is nearly synonymous with penitence, but has in it more conspicuously the element of humiliation, and Contrition also of affection towards the being offended compunction, as enhancing the sorrow. Compunction, as the name implies, is a pricking and goading of conscience, — the uneasy and painful feeling resulting from the violation of obligation. Remorse is the same feeling in a more set- 196 PSYCHOLOGY. tied and oppressive form, a positive sense of guilt tending towards hopelessness. It will be noticed that Compunction and Remorse differ from the others in this, that they have no element of purpose of change in them. They are pure emotions consequent upon evil conduct. The others are not pure emotions, but are combined in some measure with the action of the Will. Faith is also largely emotional, though having in it some- thing of the element of both the intellectual and the voli- tional. It is based upon belief, and implies a Faith. . . , . n .-11 f -i • purpose ; but it also is characterized by a reeling of confidence and trust in another, or in something extra- neous to self. THE APPETITES. 197 CHAPTER V. THE APPETITES. Passing from the consideration of the Emotions, we come upon a new range of sensibilities known as the Appetites and Desires. I mention them together, How as they have something in common which dis- tites and de- tinguishes them from the simple emotions, fromemo- The latter are the effects of some intellectual tlons ' operations, and do not themselves, at least directly, incite to action. But in this new field the feelings that we cognize do impel to action. They are what Sir William Hamilton calls conative, inducing effort on the part of their subject. Indeed, he puts them in the department of the Will, and treats them accordingly. But most writers class them in the category of the Sensibilities. The Appetites and the Desires have this in common, that they are both cravings for something that the subject of them lacks. For this reason some writers Whatthey have included both under the one head of De- have in com- sires ; while some others, mostly ancient phil- osophers, have reckoned them all as Appetites. But at present they are divided on what seems to be a clearly intelligible and reasonable principle, namely, that the one class refers to the wants of the body, and the other to those of the soul. The Appetites, then, are those cravings of the mind which 198 PSYCHOLOGY. relate to the well-being of the body. They have been de- Appetites scribed by some writers as physical feelings, defined. 'but, as it seems to me, unreasonably. There are properly no physical feelings, since all feeling of any sort is in the mind, not in the body. Cut off all connec- tion of any part of the body with the brain and the miod, Have their and there is no feeling at all in that part of the stTt^o 1 ? tt 6 bod y- StiU these feelin g s na ve their causes in body. the conditions of the body, and this is one of their chief characteristics. Another mark of the Appetites Their perio- * s their periodicity. They act at intervals, and dicity. w ith a certain degree of regularity. They are also accompanied by an uneasy sensation. They differ from instincts in this, that they are to a certain extent under the Judgment and Will. The Appetites as usually given are Hunger, Thirst, and the craving for Air and Sleep. To these are added by Kinds of many authorities, the Sexual appetite, and the appetites. desire for Exercise. " If we would know how many appetites there are," says Dr. Hopkins, " we must inquire how many things there are, generically, that are necessary for the well-being of the body, and we majr be sure there will be within the body a craving for these things." The end of the Appetites is not mere sensual gratifica- tion. They are designed for the preservation of the body, Object of the and * be perpetuation of the race. There is, of appetites. course, a gratification ' in meeting these de- mands ; were this not so, the design would be frustrated. Except for the pleasure there is in eating and drinking, thousands of persons would so frequently neglect these wants of their nature as to destroy their health and life. THE APPETITES. 199 The Appetites are self-limiting. In a man of normal condition, whose Appetites have not been abused, they crave no more than a healthful satisfaction. The great danger is in the gratifying, not the appetite beyond this point, but another desire closely asso- ciated with it. For instance, in eating certain kinds of food, in addition to the gratification of the appetite, there is a pleasure to the palate and other organs of taste. A desire is created for the continuance of this pleasure, and eating is sometimes continued for this purpose after the appetite itself has utterly ceased its demands. This leads to over-eating, and thus to bodily harm, and may grow into a most evil habit. This is found to be the case especially in artificial appe- tites. There are many articles of food and of drink for which there is no natural craving. An appetite Artificial for them, however, can be cultivated. It is appetites. probable that nothing is ever gained by their cultivation, since, as Dr. Hopkins says, it is pretty nearly certain # that in the constitution of man, God gave him as many appe- tites as would be good for him. ' These artificial appetites, too, are frequently, if not always, more difficult to govern than those which are natural. Take, for in- t c i -r> i i i Narcotics. stance, the use of tobacco. Probably no person, unless inheriting abnormal conditions, ever liked tobacco in any form. It is, without much doubt, naturally univer- sally offensive. Yet, the taste once acquired and the appe- tite cultivated, it easily becomes a dominant passion, hard to shake off, even when known to be undermining the health and ruining the constitution of its victim. There are thousands who would gladly give a great sum to free themselves, without the necessary personal sacrifice, from 200 PSYCHOLOGY. the dominion of this pernicious appetite ; but the effort is so great that rather than make it they continue to submit to its thraldom. What is true of this and other narcotics is true in a still more deplorable degree of the appetite for alcoholic Alcoholic beverages. It begins to be created in the pleas- beverages. an t stimulus of this substance acting on the system, and the reaction from which begets a stronger craving, the gratification of which causes a greater stimu- lus, and thus, gradually, there is an overmastering power established among the physical elements, which in no long time renders the subject a helpless victim and slave to its imperious demands. It is true that men do become the victims of appetites which were originally normal and healthful. We read, Normal and perhaps know, of gluttons and gormand- comi?g 8 ab- 8 " izers - Tne 7 have become so, not by the natural normal. use f their appetites, but by an artificial indul- gence of them. There are other ways in which appetites are created so as to have all the effect of artificial crav- ings, by ministering to the palate at unseasonable hours, when the natural appetite itself makes no sort of demand, and that too, for articles not in themselves unwholesome, and for which, in a limited degree, there is a normal appetite ; and thus untold harm is done to the health and strength of the individual. INSTINCTS. This is perhaps as good a place as any to consider the subject of the Instincts, since, though differing radically from the Appetites, they have a certain relation to them, and at one or two points are very similar to them. THE APPETITES. 201 Instinct, according to Reid, is " a natural blind impulse to certain action, without having any end in view, without deliberation, and very often ivithout any concep- Definition of tion of what we do." "An instinct," says Paley, instinct - " is a propensity prior to experience, and independent of instruction." When Reid says, as above, that instinct is without any end in view, he doubtless means that the subject of the instinctive action has no end ; for unquestion- ably the action is always directed to some end, as the sub- and its end is always the well-being- of the J ectls con- J t ° cerned, but a individual or of the race. Instinct is repre- real end sented as unintelligent. This is true so far as the subject is concerned, but that the most far-seeing in- telligence is in some way involved cannot be intelligence doubted. The Creator of the subject has fore- ^t oftie^ seen, and by marvellous wisdom provided for, subject, the operation of instinct. If instinct were like intelligence it would imply far more wisdom in the bee and the spider, and many other animals, than in man. The sitting hen turns over her eggs by ruffling them, in order that the yolk, the specific gravity of which is greater than that of the white, may not rest on the shell, and thus prevent the growth of the chick. Here, evidently, is intelligence, but not the intelligence of the hen. She would not know an egg of her own from a glass egg, and would sit upon a nest full of the latter as contentedly as upon the former. A beaver constructs a dam which can scarcely be beaten by a civil engineer ; but if shut up in any place destitute of water, and furnished with materials, he will construct just as good a dam as though putting it across a stream, — a dam, of course, which could have no object. It is 202 PSYCHOLOGY. characteristic of instinct, that it is incapable of improve- incapabieof ment or development. There is incalculable improvement, progress in man's architecture and mechanical talent, from the cave dwellings and rude huts of the prim- itive races to the neat edifices and sumptuous houses of modern times ; but the bee builds its cells precisely as it did five thousand years ago. So of the nests of birds, the ball of the silkworm, and many other structures. But we are concerned here with the instincts of men, and not those of the lower animals, except as the latter aid us in understanding the former. It is to be remarked that Inverse ratio the relation of instinct to intelligence is that of anSelh- an inverse rat i°- When the former is at its gence. maximum the latter is at its minimum, and vice versa. Dr. Hopkins and Dr. Chadbourne have both illus- trated this by the accompanying simple diagram ; namely, that of a rectangle divided diagonally into two triangles, one representing instinct and the other intelligence. At the lower part of the upper triangle, representing intelli- gence, the latter becomes virtually nothing, while instinct occupies the whole space. The same is true of the upper point of the lower triangle, representing instinct; there the latter is nil, while intelligence occupies the whole space. So at every intermediate point, the wider the intelligence the narrower the instinct, and vice versa. It is in accordance with this principle that we find the instincts more numerous and more active in children than instincts of m adults. The newly-born infant sucks and children. swallows its food as perfectly as if it knew all the principles of the operation. •" Sucking and swallowing are very complex operations. Anatomists describe about THE APPETITES. 203 thirty pairs of muscles that must be employed in every draught. Of these muscles every one must be served by its proper nerve, and can make no exertion but by some influence conveyed through that nerve. The exertion of all these nerves is not simultaneous. They must succeed each other in regular order, and their order is no less neces- sary than the exertion itself. This regular train of opera- tions is carried on according to the nicest rules of art by the infant who has neither art, nor science, nor experience, nor habit." 1 The most intelligent men, up to old age, do some things entirely by instinct, and other things occasion- Men do cer- ally under the same impulse. Certain of our JJjjSSJJ instinctive operations we learn by observation, instinct. and sometimes find out how to control and modify them. 1 Dr. Reid, qxioted by Dr. Upham. 204 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER VI. THE DESIRES. The Desires have the same relation to the well-being of the mind that the Appetites do to that of the body. We Desires de- have seen that if we could know how many- fined, generically different things were requisite to the well-being of the body, we should know how many appetites there are. So it is with the desires and the well- being of the mind. It will be seen that the Desires are of a higher order of sensibilities than the Appetites. There are several kinds of Desires, each having its distinctive Seif-preser- designation. First among these is the desire vation. f or Continued Existence, or Self-Preservation. No principle is naturally stronger in man than this. We do not need to prove this. It is obvious in the conduct of all men, whenever they are exposed to danger. Under cer- tain conditions, it may be overcome by other principles temporarily gaining the ascendency, but it can hardly be said, even in these instances, to be extinguished. The action prompted by this desire is two-fold. It may be either instinctive or voluntary. The former takes Two-fold place when life is threatened or imperilled by action. sudden emergencies. When a person is in dan- ger of falling, he instinctively puts forth his hand to save himself. When a blow is suddenly aimed at him, he instinctively makes an effort to ward it off. Such a pro- vision seems to be made for man, to serve in cases where THE DESIRES. 205 calculation and adaptation of means to ends could not be made available in time. When there is oppor- tunity for consideration, the action prompted by the desire is said to be voluntary. This action is usual in self-defence. DESIRE OF PROPERTY. There is a natural craving of the mind for possession. The assurance of continued existence is followed by a desire for means of supporting that existence, and making it comfortable and agreeable. Hence we find in all men the craving for possession of that which would maintain life in greater or less abundance. It is the mainspring of all industry, of all production, of nearly all invention and enterprise. Civilization depends largely upon it. It is one of the most powerful propensities of the human mind. While innocent and most useful within its legitimate limits, it may be easily carried beyond those limits by its own momentum, and become a great power of evil in the world. DESIRE FOR KNOWLEDGE, The third of these desires is known as the Desire for Knowledge, or Curiosity. This is a normal characteristic of our constitution. We are made to crave knowl- edge, and are furnished with means and instru- mentalities by which this may be acquired. We see the principle in operation everywhere. In the most ordinary community, let any new and strange event take place, and everybody is agog to know all about it. It is of the highest utility, and furnishes the spring- to the * *. ^ • l • • ivu x i Its utility, greatest achievements m science, literature, and 206 PSYCHOLOGY. art. Under its stimulus have taken place the wonderful explorations, expeditions, and experiments for the purpose of extending the area of human knowledge. DESIRE OF POWER. This is also a normal and legitimate feature of our con- stitution. We see it in its purest and simplest form sometimes in children. There is great joy in a boy's mind when he has achieved something which he has found it difficult to compass. The mere knowledge of certain kinds of ability, wholly independent of any ulterior good, is itself a very positive satisfaction. May be ^ * s a ^ so a P r °per object of effort. It is one of abused. the great duties of man to acquire as much power as he can justly. Like all other great gifts, power is liable to be abused, and is pretty likely to be, if not kept in subjection to moral principles. " Oh, it is excellent to have a giant's strength ; But it is tyrannous to use it like a giant." When this desire becomes excessive, and is cultivated for selfish ends, it is called Ambition. It is simply an inor- dinate desire of power, not as a means to noble and worthy ends, but because it will promote one's self-interest. DESIRE OF ESTEEM. This is another natural and universal principle of our constitution ; that our friends, and people generally, think well of us, is an occasion of simple and Its utility. . . „ -r i • • i innocent gratification. It begins with us in infancy, and is never wholly wanting in the most advanced THE DESIRES. 207 age. It is not a mere pleasure ; it has also its positive utility. Unless we have the approbation of our fellow- men, we can do them little good ; and to be deprived of this is a great deduction from our usefulness. Notnecessa- It is by no means necessarily a selfishly prompted rily selfish. desire. In circumstances where, so far as we can see, this approval will in no way affect our business, or our general reputation, or any of the enterprises of life to a good in which we devote ourselves, we still hunger for itself - it for its own sake. If we happen to be set down for only a brief space among entire strangers whom we shall never see again, and who can do us neither good nor harm, still we should be sorry to know that, without conscious cause on our part, we had incurred their ill-will. To care noth- ing for the opinion entertained of us by others, or to so pretend, indicates a low and unworthy moral character. It is not merely for the present that we are animated by this desire. We are not improperly solicitous that our memory after we are dead shall be held in respect, or, at least, not in dishonor. This, like other desires, has its appropriate limits, within which it is innocent and wholesome, but beyond Limitations. which it is unwholesome and harmful. When it becomes thus inordinate and abnormal, it is called Vanity. It is always a foolish and undignified senti- ment, even in its most common forms ; in its excessive action it becomes offensive and repulsive. DESIRE OP SOCIETY, HAPPINESS, AND LIBERTY. There are still other forms of the sensibilities which have the general characteristics of desire, and by some eminent 208 PSYCHOLOGY. writers are placed in this list. Others, for certain reasons, clo not so reckon them. They are the Desire they are to be of Society, the Desire of Happiness, and the classed here. ]) e§ { re f Liberty. The Desire of Society appears to be very much of the same general nature as the other desires already described. We are constituted so that society is essential to our individual welfare. No man is „ ~ ever made to be sufficient to himself. The full No man suffi- cient to him- complement of things needful for his welfare is never in any one individual. All the members of a community are interdependent. Each has something that others, probably many others, lack and need. Hence this desire is as clearly natural as any other which comes under our consideration. The only reason I have seen why it should not be reckoned among the original desires is that given by Dr. Hopkins, namely, that " it is so far some- . ,. . thing that we are born into, and a condition for men are bom the gratification of other desires, and for the exercise of the affections and higher faculties," that we prefer to place it in a list somewhat separated from the more general desires. This distinction is doubt- less worthy of consideration, if not wholly determinative. The Desire of Happiness, or, as Dr. Hopkins would say, of Good, is what is generally known as Self-love. There is a clearly marked difference between this and the other desires. That it is a craving for something not in posses- sion, and is consequently a great impelling force, is very evident. So far it is similar to the other desires. It differs h it diff f rom them in this : that it can get no direct from other gratification, and none at all except through the operations of the other desires. Suppose all the other desires to cease, and only the desire of happiness THE DESIRES. 209 to remain. This cannot be gratified until some one or more of the other desires revive. Some such state as this does occur at certain times to some persons, and it is a most distressing condition. It is the state denominated Hypochondria, a state in which, while there is Hypochon- a craving for good or happiness, there is no con- dria - ceivable way in which this good can come. The reason of this is, that there is in this condition an absence of any desire the gratification of which gives pleasure; and a more hopeless and melancholy situation can scarcely be imagined. " The good does not lie proximate to the will. It is the common result of all forms of activity, when the objects directly chosen are attained. Entering thus as Good does not a common element into all desires, it cannot be ^ate totiie classed in the same rank with any one of them. will. It has, indeed, the same relation to all specific forms of desire, that consciousness has to all the other mental oper- ations. It is something different from any one of them, it is common to them all, and is that without which no one of them could be." x There is a clear distinction between self-love and selfish- ness, to which particular attention is called, as it is not always made by writers and speakers of culture, self-love and Self-love is a simple, natural, and legitimate selfishness, desire, such as all men properly have. Selfishness is inordinate self-love — self-love passing beyond its legiti- mate limits, and overmastering more important desires and motives. The Desire of Liberty differs from the general desires in much the same way aS the desire of happiness, though not, 1 Hopkins's Outline Study of Man. 210 PSYCHOLOGY. perhaps, to the same extent. It has certainly a peculiar re- E j . lation to those desires. It may be rudely stated the particu- somewhat thus : it is a desire for the gratification of all other desires. We do not like to have our desires restricted in any way, and any repression of them, or prevention of their gratification, we regard as a limitation of our liberty. I suppose a child or an uneducated person A simple would define liberty as having and doing every- definition. thing one wishes, and having and doing nothing else ; and probably it cannot be much more clearly defined. But it will be seen by this that the desire for liberty can hardly exist independent of other desires. Were these not in existence, probably the- craving for liberty would never be felt. Hence, while the element of desire is the promi- nent feature here, it is evident that, like the desire for good or happiness, it is separated by other characteristics from the desires first spoken of. THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 211 CHAPTER VII. THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. The Affections differ from the Desires in that they are more complex, and also of a higher character. The ele- ment of desire is prominent in them, but it is Howaffec . accompanied by another element. When we tions differ , pn . ■ j. . . ., . from desires. have an affection for certain persons, there is not only a craving for their society, but we have in addi- tion, a disposition to please them, and to do what they would desire to have done. This feeling becomes so strong where the affection is great, that it subordinates all other considerations. The property, the preferences, and even the life itself of the subject, are readily sacrificed for the benefit of the object of the affection. So, on the other hand, if an aversion is from any cause felt for a person, we do not desire association with this person, and the natural impulse is not to do him any favor, but rather the contrary. Unless overborne by other considerations, as it is in wise and charitably disposed individuals, the spontaneous impulse of the mind towards such a person is to do him some harm. « The Affections have been classed by a majority of au- thorities, as Benevolent and Malevolent, accordingly as we regard individuals favorably or unfavorably — ciassifica- as we love or hate them. This division has tions - been objected to by Dr. Hopkins,- on the ground that these two words imply the action of the Will ; whereas these 212 PSYCHOLOGY. are natural sensibilities, and exist before the Will is so fully constituted as to control them, and, in fact, before the Will is called into action. He says, in animals there is no malevolence. The beast of prey has none of this feeling towards his victim. " He does not hate him ; he simply wishes to eat him." Dr. Hopkins would call these Beneficent Affections which lead to the doing of good, and defensive Beneficent; the opposite feelings and impulses he would call Defensive or Punitive, inasmuch as in the lower animals this seems to have been the reason why they are constituted with these dispositions. But as we are dealing with men and not with brutes, and as the manifestations of these feelings are quite differ- ent in the latter from what they are in the former, these seem to be awkward and unsatisfactory designations, and not at all clearly antithetic to the name given to the oppo- site affection. If Beneficent is a better term than Benevolent why not ma- as applied to the one, why would it not be bet- leficent ? ter to call the other by the name of Maleficent ? This would at once give a natural and easy distinction, and would also adequately describe them. But on the whole, and notwithstanding the reasonableness of the objection to the present nomenclature, I prefer to adhere to it till the higher authorities are agreed on something better. The further division is made of the Affections as Natural and Moral. The former are those which spring up spon- Naturai and taneously, and are not under the control of the moral. Will. They are found in brutes as well as in men. The latter are under control of the Will. This distinction will not call for a separate treatment of the two classes of affections. THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 213 The Benevolent Affections assume a variety of forms, according to their respective objects. These may be grouped under the heads of Love of Kindred, Different Love of Country, Friendship, Love of Humanity, forms. Gratitude, and Sympathy. The word Love is, in our language, made to cover a large range of conceptions, to many of which it is, in strict propriety, altogether inapplicable. A boy loves Use of the his play and his instruments of amusement ; word love - some men love horses and dogs ; a girl loves parties, and beautiful dresses and adornments ; the scholar loves study ; , certain persons love a fight ; and others love particular kinds of food and drink, and exciting scenes. Now clearly these uses of the word love indicate only a delight and pleasure in the possession or observance of these objects or events, and they are mostly of a physical character. But we do not realty love these things ; we simply like them. Love in its proper sense must have a p ure iy P er- personal object. It is a purely personal feeling, sonal - both as to its object and its subject. This is clear from what has already been said of the nature of the Affections, namely, that they imply a desire on the part of the person who loves, to please and benefit the object loved. Let us consider the several forms of the Affections. THE LOVE OF KINDRED. This is the earliest and most primitive of the natural affections. Parental Love springs up at once, as soon as the fact of parentage is realized. I do not mean Earliestand that it exists in its full strength, but it is in the §»£ P£ a mi - soul at first, and grows and deepens, and becomes rentaI love " more and more controlling with the increasing age of the 214 PSYCHOLOGY. object. How powerful it often is, need not here be illus- trated, since every person may find instances in great num- bers within the circle of his own observation. The love of a mother for her child has become the simile and standard of all great affection that is found in humanity ; and the toil and hardship, and the uncounted and unmeasured sacrifices to which she will subject herself, prompted by this love, have been rehearsed a thousand times, in story and in song, in all the literatures of the world. This is mainly instinctive, as appears from the fact that it is a natural affection. It is akin to the intense interest Mainly in- that the lower animals have for their young. It stinctive. ^ nevertheless, capable of taking on a moral character. It may be made the subject of consideration, and be brought under moral rules. There are also excep- tional instances in which the affection has been alienated, and indifference has taken its place. In such cases ethical motives and obligations may be presented as a means of reviving and restoring it. The utility of this affection is seen in the consideration that without some such sensibility parents might not be able to discharge effectually the duties implied in this relationship. The daily cares and anxie- ties, the constant solicitude, the fears and misgivings and sorrows of the parent, the toils and sacrifices without num- ber, could not be borne but for this implanted and over- mastering principle. Filial Love is the counterpart of parental love, and, while similar to it in some respects, differs from it in others. It Differs from P ossesses l ess strength and permanence. It does parental not manifest the same steadiness and intensity. There is no such sense of responsibility in the THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 215 child as in the parent; hence the greater attention prompted by this, and the knowledge of the dependence of the child. These tend to modify the character of the parent's love, and make it different from that of the child. That this is an implanted principle, and not a cultivated sentiment, is evident from several considerations. It is more abiding than a cultivated affection in most . . , . . of the relations of life. From persons, not akin to and abiding us, to whom we are thus affected, we withdraw our affections, or they subside of themselves, when we find that the objects of them are unworthy. But that a parent has become vicious and unworthy, or even a reprobate in the community, is not ordinarily sufficient to estrange the affec- tions of a child. So, too, while we may feel at liberty to re- sent certain kinds of treatment by a mere acquaintance, or even a friend, however intimate, it is not so with the child in relation to a parent, — at least, it is not commonly so. Then, too, in these cases, and in some others, when a child comes to treat a parent with disregard, and especially with unkindness, there is a spontaneous feeling of Public disapprobation, and often of indignation and sentiment, abhorrence, which does not exist in view of the estrange- ment of other friends. Fraternal Affection, or that felt by children of the same parents, is not so obviously a natural or instinctive senti- ment as the affections previously described. Some, indeed, have maintained the opinion that this affection some regard is wholly the result of cultivation, and that it JJ. "J"^ 1 arises solely from the fact that the individuals tion. concerned are thrown constantly together. But this does not account satisfactorily for all the phenomena presented. Others besides brothers and sisters are thrown together for 216 PSYCHOLOGY. long periods. It is true that in such cases warm friend- ships and close attachments are formed, but these are comparatively few. It is true also, that among brothers and sisters, there are exceptional instances of alienation and unfraternal manifestations. But it will be found that the great majority of those who are not connected by fra- ternal ties, and are yet thrown into one another's society, do not develop the affectionate regard for each other that exists almost universally among children of the same family. FRIENDSHIP. This is a sentiment which exists between persons brought into one another's society, who are congenial and mutually - . .. attractive. The reasons for the attachments are Description ofthisaffec- very numerous, and sometimes quite unaccount- able. The attachment varies from a very mod- erate regard to an intense devotion. We have some very remarkable instances of these friendships in history, as well as from observation, and that man is poor indeed who is not himself a party to more or less of these happy relation- ships. GRATITUDE, OR LOVE OP BENEFACTORS. Gratitude is sometimes reckoned as a simple emotion awakened by a deed of personal kindness. But it is cer- Somethi tainly something more than mere gladness or more than a joy, however great, at the acquisition of a de- sired object. There is obviously an additional feeling, which is of the nature of a particular kind of regard for some person who is the intentional cause of this grati- fication, and of thankfulness to him. It is a little more THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 217 difficult to place it among the affections than to distinguish it from the emotions. Still, it is undoubtedly the case that kindness shown to a person does usually awaken Kindness affection, sometimes of the most ardent kind, awakens I would not say that this added element of affec- tion is what constitutes gratitude, as distinguished from simple thankfulness, because the affection often exists, and perhaps grows stronger even after the occasion of the gratitude may be forgotten. Still, there is little doubt that some affection is implied in all genuine gratitude. PATRIOTISM, OR LOVE OF COUNTRY. This is a marked characteristic of most men. An attach- ment partly to the soil on which we were brought up ; to the natural features of the region in which we Various eIe . have lived, perhaps from childhood ; to the habits ments com- and customs of the people ; to the government, duce this local and general; to the institutions, laws, affectlon - usages, and history of the national community, — is apt to beget a deep and fervid feeling, which is peculiar, and which frequently becomes a powerful motive of action. Especially is this the case if the country has been through great trials, and has come out of them successfully and triumphantly, more especially if it is a country under a popu- More con _ lar form of government. Then each one real- spicuous ,, . j. . , , . . ., , underapopu- izes something 01 a proprietorship in it, and larformof rejoices in its prosperity as in something of his & overnment - own. Still, I think there is something more and higher than this in patriotism, else we would not have so many brave men enthusiastically following their national flag into obvious perils, and at such great and sometimes ap- 218 PSYCHOLOGY. palling sacrifices. There is a kind of national life spring- ing 1 out of the constituted nature of human National life. & . . society, oi which every citizen is a partaker, — a national consciousness and national sensibility, which are essential elements in patriotism, and to which it owes its natural and spontaneous character. THE LOVE FOR HUMANITY, OR PHILANTHROPY. This affection is unquestionably natural to the constitu- tion of man, notwithstanding the fact that it is often con- cealed by other interests, as also the fact that opportunities for its manifestation are less frequent or less prominent A positive than in the case of most of the other affections, affection. Still, that it is a positive affection, and belongs to man as man, is evident from a variety of considerations. Let a man be in any considerable peril, or be swept into a current and clinging to some frail support, liable to give way at any moment, if the suspense is protracted how deep and universal is the interest excited in the community! A large proportion of the population, perhaps every person able to do so, will hurry to the scene of danger, and manifest the most intense interest. This is „ _ not exceptional, but in all ages and nations, tionainor both civilized and barbarian, evinces itself in ten thousand ways. Let a great fire, or a flood, or an earthquake, or other devastating calamity, come to a community, causing wide-spread distress, and making great numbers homeless, how quickly the benevolent impulse is felt in remote communities, and among total strangers ! It is indicated, again, by the disposition to build and endow charitable institutions, such as asylums for orphans, THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 219 deaf-mutes, the blind, and other unfortunates ; hospitals for the sick, and dispensaries ; as well as to set on Benevolent foot enterprises and associations designed to anTassocia- furnish facilities for indigent young people who tions. are seeking education and qualification for useful lives. It is still further evident in the devotion of good men and women of talent, and sometimes of genius, to the refor- mation of abuses through which so many are destroyed, and wretchedness is so greatly multiplied. Howard, Noted phiian- Wilberforce, Clarkson, Gurney, Elizabeth Fry, thropists. Florence Nightingale, Wendell Phillips, and other such persons come instantly to our minds when we speak of such things. We have the testimony of travellers in all parts of the world, who have found even in barbarous tribes, and among the most uncultured communities, that under „ Even mani- the most forbidding circumstances there were fest in bar- •. -i ,1 • o t j. i .. barous tribes, always some m whom this feeling of humanity was a living force. Doubtless more of this exists, even in the most degraded communities, than comes to the surface, as it is liable to be repressed by fear or jealousy, or perhaps overborne by some passion or propensity inconsistent with its expression. SYMPATHY. Sympathy is the feeling that rises on contemplating the pains and sorrows and the unhappiness of others, as also their ioys and prosperities. Tins, also, is bv ■,-,., ,--,,., Its nature, some regarded as a simple emotion, but it seems to me to be so closely related to our love of our fellow-men in more immediate or more remote relations, that it properly holds a place among the affections. 220 PSYCHOLOGY. It is scarcely possible for a healthy mind, and especially one morally well developed, not to be affected by the emo- Affected by ti° ns °f others ; and to be so affected is to have the emotions similar emotions. That this should be the case is involved in the very constitution of our na- ture. Even the brutes give indications of these feelings, at least in a rudimentary way. It is not an in- frequent occurrence for them to give evidence of being affected by the happiness or misery of their fellow- brutes. It is more common to use this term with reference to the feeling awakened by the discomforts and adversities of Awakened b otners i than to those called into activity by their the adversi- enjoyments and delights. It is true, we do enter ties of others. ,-, . , .-, ^ P <. ,.-,■, personally into the welfare of our fellow-men ; still there is a marked difference, such as I have suggested. There are several reasons for this. One is that sympathy is more useful and more needful in calamity and disaster than in prosperity. For this reason it becomes more em- phasized, and doubtless more noticeable. It is also true that joy is more natural than sorrow, and therefore more commonly the heritage of all. For this reason, when the latter comes it is more observable and more exciting. Sympathy must be distinguished from certain other terms closely affiliated with it. The difference between it and Not commis- Commiseration is that the use of the latter is con- eration. fined to cases of suffering, — it does not express a fellow-feeling of enjoyment or pleasure. Compassion was Notcompas- originally and etymologically the exact Latin sion - equivalent of Sympathy, but in the English use of the two words the meaning has palpably diverged. Compassion, as now used, means the disposition we have THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 221 towards the unfortunate, when it is in our power to aid them. Sympathy, as we have seen, may exist where there is no possibility of giving any aid. Pity, like commiseration, is an emotion excited by the suf- fering of others, but differs from sympathy in that it is not excited by the happiness of our fellows. It Difference be- probably differs from commiseration in the fact andTommis- that the person feeling the pity is usually in a eration. superior position to the object of it. I do not mean by this, as some seem to imply, that there is a feeling of superiority necessarily, much less of contempt, though possibly these two feelings get mixed in the mind some- times ; but that the one who exercises the pity is in a more favored and less painful position than the other. 222 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER VIII. THE MALEVOLENT OR MALEFICENT AFFECTIONS. As previously intimated, while Dr. Hopkins's objection to the classification of the Affections as Benevolent or Ma- levolent has much force, the substitute which he proposes is open to almost equally grave objections. It is for this reason, as well as for the reason that no one is likely to be misled, that I adhere to the old nomenclature. It has already been shown that the Affections are the most complex of the sensibilities. They differ from the Emotions in having an element of desire ; they differ from the Desires and Appetites in the fact that both the latter Have regard are self-regarding, while the Affections are altru- Sa^our- istic ' or regardful of others. This is true of selves. both the Benevolent and the Malevolent Affec- tions. They seek to affect others than the subject. The former aim at some good for others, the latter at some ill. The radical element in the one is love ; in the other, hate. It is true that in very many instances neither the one nor the other of these elements is very pronounced ; still, in some form, rudimentary or otherwise, it is present. The Malevolent Affections have many forms. I mention first that of Anger. This involves an unpleasant feeling on Nature of the part of the subject, which is accompanied by angsr. a c i es jj. e to affect disagreeably the person who is presumed to have caused the unpleasantness. THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 223 Anger is the basis of all the so-called Malevolent Affec- tions. Those known by other designations are either modifications of this, or in some way involve Basisofall it. It is partly instinctive and partly voluntary, malevolent The former characteristic applies to those sud- den excitations of passion which arise on certain occa- sions, without thought on the part of the person Instinctive affected. The latter refers to the feeling that is and voiun- tary- prolonged, and, perhaps, intensified or otherwise modified by reflection and consideration. Sometimes the feeling excited by some action or other is greatly dimin- ished or wholly nullified when the case is examined, and full account is taken of the circumstances and conditions. On the other hand, an act which at first produces no feel- ing, or only a slight one, and which is scarcely noticeable, on being revolved in the mind, and considered in certain of its relations, becomes a serious offence, and produces a corresponding increase of unpleasant feeling. Frequently the additional and aggravating elements are from Affected by the world of imagination, instead of being found imagination, matter of fact, and are fruitful sources of misunder- standing and states of mind for which there is no justi- fication. Of instances of purely instinctive anger we have the fact that little children who get hurt by running against some obstacle, are disposed to wreak their petty vengeance on the insensate object. The savage breaks and tramples upon the arrow that wounds him. Even in highly civil- ized and cultivated persons this feeling is not always ab- sent. I have seen a refined lady, of great prominence in society, take up a pen to write a hurried note, and, finding it good for nothing, dash it from her with great vigor, as 224 PSYCHOLOGY. if in resentment at its failure to do its duty. For the most Usuali - part, however, in persons of any considerable discipline and education, this passion is under cultivated control. If any fail to govern themselves in this persons. respect, as in many others, a reasonable public sentiment regards it as a sign of weakness and culpability. By some it has been denied that this feeling properly belongs to our constitution. It has been thought to im- s osedby peach the wisdom and righteousness of the some to be Creator to suppose that He should implant in inconsistent , , i> -, t • i • t i , with our con- us an element ol character which implies hate, stitution. jj e commands all men to love one another, and therefore it would be inconsistent for Him to put a prin- ciple the very opposite of this into our nature. But we are to remember, in the first place, that we are now looking at the phenomena of the human soul as they We are to manifest themselves; that is, as they are, not phmomenaof necessarily as they should be. Certainly this is the soul as one f these manifestations, and is as nearly they are, not . ^ as they universal as any which exposes itself to our ob- shouidbe. servation. If it be a part of our constitution, as it now is, we may reasonably conclude that either the Creator placed it there for some wise purpose, or that our nature has been in some way perverted so that it no longer expresses the design of the Creator. Then, again, we see, if we look at the matter carefully, that there are a proper place and use for such a principle ; not, probably, in its intense and perverted manifestations, but in its essential and purely natural action. As has been instinctive implied, instinctive resentment has no moral n^morai 11 * character. It acts before reason and judgment character. have opportunity to furnish any basis for moral THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 225 conduct, and without their direction. It seems to have been designed to protect persons in case of sudden and un- foreseen attacks, where, if time were taken for deliberation and consideration of ways and means, action would be too late. Voluntary resentment can be justified only so far as it is essential to the welfare of the individual and the protection of society. That a person who in- Voluntary jures another should be made to pay some sort j^^ ent ' of a penalty, must be affirmed by the sense of justifiable, justice in every man's mind. This penalty, before society became developed and organized, must naturally be inflicted by the hand of the individual injured, or, if he were dead or disabled, by the nearest relative. This was the primitive method of the administration of justice, and prevailed far down the history even of organized society. Later came the universal usage among civilized peoples to surrender this individual function to society, which, in turn, under- took to guarantee the protection and defence of the indi- vidual. Still, there remains a proper and natural a proper and resentment towards a person committing a wan- ^uafre^ 1 ton injury. This does not imply that it may sentment. not be modified by various other elements of character. A love for all men may easily quench the rising hatred which is involved in anger or resentment. A spirit of forgiveness towards the culprit comes into exercise on the penitence of the latter, often even when this is wanting. A repression of whatever savors of unkindness and vindictiveness will be found in every person of much moral cultivation. But the feeling of resentment is, at the bottom, a nat- ural and not unwholesome element of the human con- stitution. 226 PSYCHOLOGY. MODIFICATIONS OF ANGER. As has been intimated, resentment or anger is the basis of all the so-called malevolent affections. There are many _. ff modifications of it, known by different names, kinds of re- Indignation is the feeling we have when a pal- pable and wanton wrong has been done, either to ourselves or to another. Wrath is anger intensified, and, as some would say, felt by a superior towards an inferior, though this is somewhat doubtful. Rage is a violent out- burst of anger, expressing itself in violent language or action. Fury is rage venting itself in a still wilder and more extravagant manner. Revenge, or Vindictiveness, is anger cherished, and seeking satisfaction in some evil done to its object in return for some evil experienced. Envy is resentment and ill-feeling experienced when others prove themselves superior to us, and who, as we are apt to think, are less worthy of this success than ourselves. It is usually regarded as a most unworthy disposition, and is universally reprobated. Jealousy is akin to envy, and yet is sufficiently distinct from it to have a designation of its own. It is a painful feeling, and one of the most powerful that can affect a person. Its chief peculiarity is, that it is directed towards an object devotedly loved, which, at the same time, becomes an object of suspicion and resentment. The strength and bitterness of the jeal- ousy are usually proportioned to the depth and intensity of the love bestowed. The suspicion or surmise that forms the occasion for the feeling is usually that the person loved is bestowing favor on another, and there- fore is withdrawing something from the subject. Under its influence one is incapable of judging correctly of the THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 227 conduct of the object concerned. Everything is inter- preted in the worst possible way, and some of the most innocent incidents are perverted into proofs of guilt. "Trifles light as air Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong As proofs of Holy Writ." In Shakespeare's drama of " Othello," we have a power- ful representation of this passion. DIVISION THIKD. THE WILL. CHAPTER I. GENERAL. CHARACTERISTICS OP THE WILL. Three divisions of the phenomena of the Mind have been kept in view from the first. They are the Intellect, by which we know, perceive, judge, and reason ; u e capituia- the Sensibilities, by which we enjoy and suffer ; tion - the Will, by which we choose and put forth efforts. It has been clearly shown that these are not divisions of the Soul into parts, one of which thinks and knows, another feels and desires, and another chooses and acts. It is the Mind simple and indivisible that is the subject of all these oper- ations. In each individual it is the Ego or Self that does any of them. I know, 7" am pleased or pained, J choose, — not some part or department of me. Again, it is to be noted that these different departments of the psychical phenomena are intimately related to each other. They stand in the order of conditioning The different and conditioned. Unless the Intellect furnishes JjJJJJJJJL intelligence, or is presumed to do so, there can related, be no feeling ; and without the previous affection, and con- sequent state of the sensibilities, there can be no occasion for choice or volition. WHAT IS THE WILL? Let us start with the already implied proposition that the Will is not an entity, but a power. It is the executive 232 PSYCHOLOGY. power of the mind. It is defined by Dr. Hopkins as " that Not an en- constituent of man's being by which he is cap- tity.buta able of free action, knowing himself to be thus DOWGr capable.'" Says Dr. Reid, " Every man is con- scious of a power to determine, in things which he con- ceives to depend upon his determination. To Definitions. . , ? tttwt -rx this power we give the name ot Will. Dr. Whedon defines Will as "that power of the soul by which it intentionally originates an act or state of being;" or, more precisely, "Will is the power of the soul by which it is the conscious author of an intentional act." The Will, though not subject to coercion by any other power of the mind, or by any power or condition outside Acts with of the mind, nevertheless always acts with ref er- tiJother t0 ence to tnese otner P owers an d conditions. We powers. can see this better if we take a concrete case. A poor man comes to me. I am informed of his wants, and convinced that he is a proper object of charity. So far" my intellect alone acts, and my judgment decides as to the facts of the case. Further, my feelings are moved. I sin- cerely pity the man, and desire his relief. Here my sensi- bilities are engaged. I have at my disposal five dollars, which I know will supply his need and mitigate his suffer- ings. Here intelligence again becomes an element in the case. I desire to supply the man's wants with this money, but I have purposed to myself to purchase with that money a new book, which promises to be of great utility to me. I desire to use the money in this way. Here, again, the sensibilities are in activity, and with this peculiarity, that I have two opposing desires, both of which cannot be grati- fied. Let us suppose that I will find the greater pleasure CHARACTERISTICS OF THE WILL. 233 in buying the book. My mind at once inclines to that action, but at this point I become conscious of another feeling — the feeling that I ought to relieve this man's want. Here duty opposes itself to inclination. So far there has been no action of the will, on the main point. I begin to balance the incentives to action implied in the situation. My intellect is working again. It is possible for me to decide either way. I am clearly con- scious of this, and there would otherwise be no conflict. There is no power to coerce me. I may decide in favor of my own gratification. If I do this, I am certain, after it is done, that I might have done the opposite. But we will suppose that I decide to do what I ought to do, instead of what will merely please me. I determine to give the man the money. This is a real act of the will. T h e rea i act I have determined, or, as we say in common °f the will, parlance, I have "made up my mind." But the act is not yet complete. There must follow an effort to convey the money to the man. This is what some of our best writers call Volition, as distinguished from Choice, or Determination. Others make volition include the choice, and regard the former as the real act of the will. However they are to be named or regarded, here are certainly two distinct elements, or perhaps we may say, two distinct acts. The one follows from, and is con- sequent upon, the other. It is true the volition Consequent may not follow instantly. I might determine ^^nTt to do a certain deed to-morrow, or next week, follow, but when the time comes the conditions have been so changed as to make it expedient for me to change my determination. It seems to me there is an act of will in the choice or determination made. 234 PSYCHOLOGY. As intimated, it would appear that an act of the will is incomplete unless there be, in addition to the choice, a Choice, as an putting forth of effort to carry it into execution. wiiMncom- This, where the determination has reference to piete. an immediate action, inevitably follows the de- cision, but if it be a choice or determination concern- ing a future action this effort ma}' be postponed, and may never be made It is to be observed here, further- more, that this effort must be distinguished from the physical action. This is no part of the volition. It is the movement solely in the mind with which we are here concerned. Dr. Hopkins regards the Will as having these two con- Two constitu- stituents, Choice and Volition; and holds that entsofwill. the quality of freedom inheres in the former, and not in the latter. We find, then, that the act of willing is connected with, and conditioned upon, several other acts of the mind, wild d There is first an intellectual operation. There ent on other must be intelligence of objects or acts between which to choose, or there can be no choice. There must also be a desire, or there can be no choice. It is impossible to conceive of a choice among a number of objects in none of which one felt any interest, and for none of which there was any desire. Then there is choice or decision, and finally the effort or volition. This last, we Volition not are to rem ember, is not the physical effort; it physical may stop short of that. It is the effort of the mind to carry out its choice. It usually results in the exertion of physical energy, but the mind, as it moves toward this end, may see, before it comes to the point to affect the physical instrument, that it would be useless. CHARACTERISTICS OF THE WILL. 235 I may determine to go out of a room, but before I arrive at the door even, I may ascertain that it is so fastened that physical effort would be useless. I therefore abstain from such effort ; but, nevertheless, there was a complete act of will, including the volition. 236 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER II. CHOICE AND MOTIVE. Desire, in its relation to the Will, constitutes what is called Motive. By some writers this is reckoned as a part , . _ of the willing, and by others it is regarded as tive ? Not a the cause of the action of the Will. Most of the cause^fthe recent writers on this subject deny both these willing. doctrines. But motive is so closely connected with the act of the mind in willing, that we need to say a few words about it. It is unquestionably true that the mind will not act in willing without motives. As has already been seen, it is an impossible to conceive of the mind as making a essential choice, where there is no desire for any of the objects or acts among which the choice is to be exercised. Hence we may regard the motive as a condi- A condition ^ on °^ ac ti° n - But a condition is not a cause. not a cause, a cause is that which produces an effect. A condition, though producing nothing, is that without which something could not be. That is, the consequent could not exist without it, but it could exist without the consequent. There may be several Conflicting Motives operating upon the mind at the same time. The child desires to eat his Conflicting ca ^ e now '■> ne a l so desires to keep the whole or motives. a p ar t f ft till to-morrow. Here are two con- flicting desires operating as motives. Only one of these CHOICE AND MOTIVE. 237 can be gratified. They are both reasons why the one or the other action should be performed. But not only do dif- ferent motives for a choice between two actions or courses of action exist, both of the latter of which may be innocent, but there are classes of motives between which to choose. The most prominent of these classes are motives Alt .. of pleasure and motives of duty. A young girl of duty and desires to go to a party. Her mother is ill, and needs her help. Here is the motive of duty conflicting with that of pleasure. It is true that desire is an element in both. The girl desires to do her duty, and to help her mother ; she also desires to go to the party. It may be that the latter desire is the stronger. She may yield to either. There is nothing that will determine her choice except her own self, but she will be under the influence of both motives, and she may be more powerfully influenced by one than the other. Still, she is compelled by neither. There may also come in other motives, subsidiary to those already mentioned. Intelligence may present other facts and circumstances besides those previously subsidiary observed, and these may operate as influential motives - in the determination of the choice, but the main question will turn on the alternative of self -gratification on the one side, and duty or obligation on the other. In view of all these motives, and under their influence, the choice is made ; but it is never so made that it is felt afterward to have been a choice compelled by No choice circumstances, or caused by any extraneous compelled, power, or any force outside of the proper personality of the subject. The word Choice needs to be carefully considered, lest it mislead us. It is, by a certain class of writers, regarded as 238 PSYCHOLOGY. synonymous with Preference, and the meaning here evolved easily glides into that of the prevalent desire. But Choice Choice not i s a stronger and more definite term than Prefer- preference. ence. The latter is largely a matter of the Judg- ment, the former is purely a matter of the Will. Again, the careless use of these words induces the impression that Determina- choice is, after all, only the effect of the strong- tion - est motive, instead of being entirely free. It would possibly be better if we used the word Determination as indicating a purpose formed. Of the other element in an act of the Will, namely, Voli- tion, we have already said what is sufficient for our present purpose. MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 239 CHAPTER III. MAN AS A FREE AGENT. ' In claiming the freedom of man, it should be observed at the outset that he is free only within certain Man free limits. We shall best apprehend the limitations °e r £J a ithin if we note the particulars in which man is not free, limits. In the first place, man's body is not free. This is subject to physical laws, like all other matter, and hence to the ne- cessary operation of physical forces. We can, it Not physi . is true, to a certain extent control our bodies, caiiyfree. but only under the limitation of these laws, and by care- fully forestalling their operations. Our intellects are not free, in the sense in which we are now using that word. They are also subject to conditions, and their actions are necessitated by these con- _ .. ditions. We cannot directly choose what we absolutely free shall know, nor even always upon what subject we shall think, nor at what conclusions we shall arrive. We are compelled to know some things, even entirely against our desire and choice. We are necessitated in many of our beliefs. When we open our eyes, or listen with our ears, the sensations produced or the perceptions taken in are not all subject to our will. If we PerceT)tion see a horse we cannot will to perceive an ele- subject to phant, and if we hear the bray of a donkey it will be of no avail for us to attempt to perceive the sound 240 PSYCHOLOGY. of a flute. We cannot will the knowledge of a thing that does not exist. So of our associations. They must follow their laws ; and, while we can select out of those which present themselves certain thoughts on which we will meditate, we cannot directly determine which shall present themselves. Our reasoning must follow the laws of thought. In any gen- uine process of reasoning we are compelled to a particular conclusion, whether it be what we would choose or the very opposite. Our sensibilities also are under the law of necessity. In T , certain afflictions we cannot avoid a feeling 1 of Lawofneces- o sityinour sorrow any more than Ave can suspend ourselves in the air without a support. Nor can we pre- vent joy and gladness arising in our minds upon their proper occasions. The Will itself, or the mind in willing, is free only within a certain limited space. As between two contra- The will free Victory courses of conduct, we must choose ; we only within a are not free to choose neither. Furthermore, as space. Must we have already seen, freedom in willing does choose. no {. imply freedom in acting. The Will is only the determination to act, the forming of a purpose the Liberty of execution of which may be prevented by physi- libert "of ca ^ or °t ner causes over which the Will has no action. control. Again, the Will is not free from expos- ure to influences operating upon it. These are sometimes conflicting, therefore some of them must be resisted in order that the more reasonable or the more desirable may prevail. These influences do not control the mind in its action, but they demand effort and resistance, and hence have in them an element of necessity. MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 241 But, small as is the sphere of the soul's freedom, such a sphere exists, and within it the soul is free in the most absolute sense conceivable. Its freedom cannot Freedom ab _ be invalidated. No power nor thing can act solute within there save the mind of the subject. Even God ' s sp er( himself — let it be reverently said — shuts himself out from any interference with it, by the very constitution he has given to man. Within this sphere man is sole master of himself and of his eternal destiny. Here he forms his character, whatever that may be, and by this product he must be judged, and from the judgment there is no appeal. The reasons for this opinion have been given, or implied in part. There are others, which we may consider while alluding to those previously mentioned. First, we must appeal to the conscious experience of every per- Testimony of son capable of understanding himself. This is conscious- the tribunal to which we must bring a certain very large class of questions for decision, principally those pertaining to the operations of the mind. The Inner-Sense, or, as it is popularly called, Consciousness, is the only means we have of knowing anything about these operations. I do not say that some persons, under peculiar conditions, may not take certain opinions for the deliverances of the Inner-Sense which are not so. But if this organ of cogni- tion fails us, we have no other, and if we cannot trust its decision we can trust nothing. For, even our perceptions, for the most part, depend upon what we know to be the state of our mind in sensation. Still, whatever might be the error of exceptional individuals, concerning the testimony of the Inner-Sense in isolated instances, the agreement of the great mass of intelligent men generally, and upon any one par- ticular subject, ought to settle it beyond reasonable doubt. 242 PSYCHOLOGY. Now, it is unquestionably true that the great mass of men, in all ages and nations, and under all conditions, „ . , . have believed themselves to act freely. They liefinindivid- never for a moment doubt this when following their spontaneous and natural convictions. In innumerable instances, after an action, they are sure that they might have done differently from what they actually did. If it be a matter of obligation, they condemn or ap- prove of their conduct as it would not be possible to do if their action had been caused by forces or personalities out- side of themselves. No one thinks of blaming himself for being in a certain place if other persons have taken him by force and carried him there, nor does a man accuse himself of crime if another person has forcibly put the hand of the former upon the trigger of the pistol, the firing of which caused the death of some one. Closely connected with this is the approval or disapproval which we feel in view of the conduct of our fellow-men. Approval and No one is disposed to condemn a- man for an act of S th P e P a r ct V s al ° f Wllich he d0eS 110t think him g' ui %' and he of others. certainly does not regard a person guilty of an act which he could not help doing, or which he was actu- R onsibil- ally compelled by other forces or conditions to ity implies do. The very conception of responsibility in- volves that of freedom, and to hold one responsi- ble for an act concerning a deed in relation to which he had no real freedom of action, would be cruelly unjust. It is here that our judgments of men's conduct are some- what modified by the character and circumstances of the Ourjudg- actor. The great mass of the influences operating fled bycir dl " u P on nnn > an( ^ inclining his mind in one direc- cumstances. tion rather than another, affect our own decis- MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 243 ions in the consideration of the case. We do not blame a child for the same act to the same extent that we blame a man. A semi-idiotic person receives lighter condemna- tion than the substantially sane man, while one totally- idiotic is not judged at all. It follows, then, that there are different degrees of approval; which further implies that the power of the Will varies at different times and in different persons, and that the forces influencing the Will are greater or less at different times. It is conceivable that these forces maybe so strong as to over- If . fl come the power of the Will. In that case there are control- is virtually no will, no freedom, and no respon- there is no sibility, and hence no judgment concerning the mlL subject, any more than in the case of a brute or of a tree. Another modification comes in here. The weakness of a mind in willing diminishes the severity of our condemna- tion only when this weakness comes from no weakness of fault of the person concerned. If it is the re- ^us™^ 8 suit of a series of evil choices, by which he has the subject, demoralized himself, and then been rendered incompetent, we still hold him responsible, and condemn his evil choices, as well as all their results. So, on the other hand, when a man, by habitually willing the proper things, So of strength has come to a condition in which his will is ofwi11 - easily superior, and dominates his whole personality, hold- ing in subordination his lower powers, and then having liberty in its largest and most genuine sense, we give him credit for this, as well as for particular acts which are right. >44 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER IV. THE WILL NOT A SUSCEPTIBILITY, BUT A POWER. It has already been stated that the Will is not an Entity, but a Power. It is to be remarked here, that, being a power^ Notasus- it is not a Susceptibility. Those who hold that ceptibiiity. ^i ie ac tion of the Will is determined by motives make it the latter instead of the former. Yet it seems to me that every person must be conscious that the Will is a positive power, and not a mere passive instrument. If it were true that the mind, in willing, is controlled by the strength of the motives operating upon it, it would follow, as Dr. Schuyler has shown, that in at least a considerable proportion of cases the action would not be in the direction in which either of the motives acts, but it would be a re- Effect of the su l tan t °f tne two. Thus if, out in the public composition square, I hear two men at different points call- ing me, if I have an equal desire to go to each of them, a combination of the impelling motives will carry me, not in the direction of one of them, but in a diagonal to some point half way between them. Suppose the motives are not equal ; still I should not be carried to either point to which I wish to go, but to some other point, nearer that of the stronger attraction. Only in the case where one of the motives was nil, should I be impelled to go directly to one of the points. This is a very mechanical illustration, but then the doctrine that the strongest motive causes the THE WILL A POWER. 245 action of the mind in willing is a purely mechanical doc- trine, — an attempt to apply a physical law to spiritual things. It is a matter of the power of motive, as deter- mining the action of the mind in willing. I see no other way but that of two or more motives, each of which must be supposed to have some force which cannot be annihilated by that of the other. There are cases where the impulsions are in entirely opposite directions. In such cases the stronger motive will impel toward one object and away from the other, but whether it would ever cause the subject to reach the former is more than doubtful. This on the hypothesis that motives cause action. A motive, then, is never a cause of the mind's action in willing, but rather a reason why the mind thus acts, — a condition of its action in a particular way. There Motive the are those who deny that a motive is necessary, anTnotthe' even as a condition ; but this absence of motive cause- appears only in the case of two contradictory desires so exactly balancing each other as to practically annihilate the force of both. It is doubtful if, tives exactly in such a hypothetical case, the mind ever puts ^l^l^^ forth the power of choice ; and, even if it does, force of both the instances are so extremely rare that they are of no practical consequence, and even speculatively are hardly worthy of consideration. The difference between a cause and a condition has already been pointed out. The fact appears evident that the power of the Will is an uncaused cause, or a First Cause, The wm a not to the extent and in the infinite degree that first cause - God is a First Cause, but just as really as He is. It is a supernatural power, the only element in man's constitu- tion that makes him superior to nature, and able to sub- 246 PSYCHOLOGY. ordinate it to his uses. Without it he becomes a part of nature, subject to its laws and forces, and compelled to A finit fir t drift on i Q ^ s current, whithersoever that may- cause just as move. As an animal, man is subject to these infinite first laws and forces. The appetites and passions cause. dominate him. The strongest has right of way, and he must yield to it, as do the other animals. But as man he is conscious of a power in him which makes him superior to nature, and enables him to control the forces which con- trol other animals and all other objects. When appetite „ h craves gratification, he is not only competent to master of his determine whether that gratification is whole- some and right, but also to refuse it indulgence. So of other cravings, as also of the passions. The fact that men sometimes do not assert their superiority only adds emphasis to the doctrine that they possess it, inas- much as they feel a sense of degradation when they have failed in its assertion, and submitted to these lower forces. Other men, too, contemn such surrender ; and both the sense of self-degradation and the contempt of others arise from the fact that all men recognize the existence of this power superior to nature, and that it is the part of every individual man to assert it. MORAL CHOICE. 247 CHAPTER V. MORAL CHOICE. It has been implied all along that the mind, as a prelimi- nary to choice, in many instances deliberates, considers the facts and circumstances, the concomitants and p re ii m i na ry consequences, of an act or its alternatives, the deliberation, pleasures and pains of which it will be the antecedent, and that there is frequently a struggle in the mind sometimes a before a decision is reached and the Will acts, struggle. I say, this is true in many instances ; probably it is not so in all. Perhaps in a great majority of cases the decision is made as soon as the occasion is presented. often the de _ Those instances in which there is a struggle are cision imme- usually those in which the choice lies between without de- pleasure or self-interest on the one side, and llberatlon - duty on the other. There may be deliberation in other cases, and doubt as to what is most advisable, and some- times conflict of opposing interests, but these are more easily decided than the conflict between interest and duty. There is also a marked difference in the consequences of such decisions in the self-judgment of the subject. In the conflict between the different kinds of self-interest, the main question is, in which the real interest lies ; and when this is settled the Will for the most part accepts that decis- ion, and by its own act ratifies it at once. But it is not so always in the struggle between duty and self-interest. Sometimes it is long protracted. The mind inclines now 248 PSYCHOLOGY. to the former, now to the latter. In the former case the struggle be- decision i s referred to as wise or unwise, pru- tweenduty dent or imprudent; it produces satisfaction or terest more regret, as the case may be ; but there is no re- protracted. morse necessarily. In the other case there is approval and self-complacency, or disapproval and condem- nation, — a sense of guilt and degradation. It is not intended to insist here that this distinction be- tween the different classes of motives, or between desires A tinge of and obligations, is always clear and obvious. seifSgaM- 11 There is a tin g e of obligation frequently in the ing desires, most self-regarding desires ; as, for instance, a man may hesitate as to whether he shall use a certain sum of money in his possession on a pleasure excursion, or shall with it purchase an additional piece of ground or some additional machinery, either of which will be of advantage to his business. Here, at first sight, it would appear that there is nothing in the question save the gratification of one of two desires, either of which is legitimate. But it may be that the question has a certain moral character also. Possibly the condition of the man's health demands the rest and recreation. There may be danger of his breaking down by continued application to the absorbing cares of his business. Duty to his family, as involved in the pres- ervation of his health, may come in as an element. Or, on the other hand, if the contemplated excursion is one of mere pleasure, with no ulterior object, and the investment of the money in his business is something very important, and, it may be, essential, and to spend the money for any- thing less important will be something like waste, — here the element of obligation would be present again, but in the other scale. Or it may easily be that both these alter- MORAL CHOICE. 249 natives have a strong moral coloring, from the fact that, on the one side, health is imperilled, and it seems a duty to take care of that, and, on the other side, his business may suffer, and duty also requires him to guard that. So that what at first appeared a mere matter of preference between two self -regarding desires becomes a conflict of possible duties. But in general the distinction is clear enough for practi- cal purposes, and we may say that whenever there is an important conflict of motives it is usually between duty and inclination, or obligation and the desire for pleasure. This brings us again to the office of the Will in the construction of character. It will probably be denied by no one whose opinion is of much account, that office of the character is the possession above all others to be instruction desired and striven for by every man. It will of character. also be readily admitted that the order of precedence in the principles that are to govern man in the construction of his character is, first the right, then self-interest, and then appetite and passion. It does not require any long argument to show that to give appetite and pas- Appetite and sion supreme authority would neither conduce passion rank to man's greatest happiness on the whole, nor to the securing of the noblest and the perfect character. Nor need we spend much time in showing that Self . interest the supreme authority of individual self-interest subordinate would not produce this coveted effect. The ong assertion by every man of his individual interest as the foremost principle of his action would operate to the detri- ment of society, and, consequently, to the harm of all its members, since society is valuable to its members only in proportion as it approximates perfection. But if the universe and humanity are wisely constituted, 250 PSYCHOLOGY. the great law of right must be paramount, and in obedience Law of right to it the interest of individuals must be more paramount, fully promoted than by any other possible ar- rangements, and the happiness of each will, in the long- run, be greater than by any other policy. It is here that we see how Will, as a governing purpose, is an interesting feature of our constitution, as well as of ,„.„ great importance. It is thus that it exercises Will as a t> L governing its power as a creator oi character. At some purpose. ^ me - n ^ e arly history of every individual the question arises, Shall I make my own enjoyment, immedi- ate or remote, the predominating principle of my life, or shall the doing of right be the paramount purpose ? This may be settled by the formation of a general purpose to lead a strictly virtuous life, or it may take the purely religious form of always doing, at whatever sacrifice, all that God desires us to do. There may be a long struggle, indecision, vacillation, before this purpose is formed. It may be broken after it is formed, but in multitudes of cases it becomes the settled principle of action. This now fi l d * s ^ ne nna ^ anc ^ supreme end of this man's action, supreme end He has willed this, and all subsequent volitions are to be subsidiary to this. The Will becomes a fixed state of mind, — a perpetuated will, so to speak. Worthiness of moral character, the real worth of the soul, has come uppermost, and not undermost, in the plan of life, and he calls upon every impulse, and desire, and purpose, to adjust itself to this. He may, on the other hand, determine to make individual happiness or interest his chief good, excluding his own The opposite worthiness, or making it subordinate, and bend- interest. i n g q]\ hi s energies towards this end, and thus MORAL CHOICE. 251 radically depraving himself, and rendering his disposition altogether bad. This prevailing purpose may not be in the mind all the time. Attention may be directed at times wholly to the subsidiary volitions and purposes, but the other is the constant aim. 252 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER VI. COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. Liberty is sometimes distinguished from freedom, but the difference is not great enough to be of any value for our present purposes, and may as well be ignored. I wish, L .. . however, to speak of liberty in a slightly differ- modified ent sense from that in which it has been hitherto used in relation to the Will, and yet having ref- erence to substantially the same general signification. The inquiry which I now propose has to do with the perfect liberty of the individual, — in what it consists, and how attainable. It has already been remarked, that if a child were to attempt to explain its conception of liberty, it would very Th hid' likely say, It is having everything we want, and definition of nothing that we do not want. This is very com- mon and idiomatic language, but it is probably about as correct an expression of the real idea as could be conveyed in more philosophical terms. Now it is evident that no person with whom we ever come in contact possesses this large, full liberty. Every one No one in has something which he does not want, and which possession of } ie wou ld a good deal rather not have ; no one liberty. has all he wants. It is furthermore evident, that, with most of us, our wants and desires oppose and restrict _ , . one another. Thev are in such conflict that the Our desires > J restrict one gratification of one implies a denial of another. Something always must be sacrificed in order COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. 253 that something else may be enjoyed. In other words, our nature is not harmonious, and it is only in the harmonious operation of our powers and susceptibilities that perfect liberty is found. Is this perfect liberty attainable ? It may be rash to predicate even a possible perfection of man in his present state; but certainly perfect liberty for the indi- Isperfect vidual is conceivable, and towards the realization liberty c , , . . . . . , , attainable ? oi this conception every one is moving who has formed that governing purpose of which mention was made a few pages back. We all know some men and women who have made much progress in this direction. The simple fact is, the grand ethical object of every man who has set his proper end before him is to attain a perfect character, and a perfect character implies perfect liberty. It is not difficult to understand that men are, in „. . ' we are under this world, under a system of law. By their a system of own conduct in part, and in part by hereditary mai-adjust- influences, they are in mal-adjustment to this mentt01t - system. It presses unequally upon them, it produces dis- cord, the desires of the soul run counter to each other, they oppose and conflict with each other, while in the ideal or perfect character they would be parallel, and thus harmoni- ous. The object of all ethical training is to remedy this evil condition of confused and conflicting interests, — to get the character adjusted to the laws. Whether any do perfectly attain to this in the present life, is not a question for discussion here ; but this we know, that many even here make great advancement in this direction. M f In proportion as they approximate it, they are in this direc- free in the only sense possible to any intelligent being in the universe. In other words, complete adjust- 254 PSYCHOLOGY. merit to the moral law will subordinate every desire to this one purpose, and will bring all the before discordant desires into perfect harmony; and this is the perfect liberty which the soul craves. This is a state in which one does what one wants to do, and does nothing else, and has what one wants to have, and has nothing else, simply because he wants only what the Divine law requires, and he has that. His desires now Desires par- run P ara ^ e l w ith this law, and hence are parallel aiieiwith with each other. Conflict is impossible. This parallel with will help us to understand the wonderful mean- each other. - n g £ tne expression, "Liberty under Law." No other liberty is possible to beings constituted as we are. It is not by getting rid of the restraints of law that men are made free, but by adjusting themselves to law. This will help us to understand another thought which has sometimes wrought a little confusion. We believe Libert of ^at ^ nere are Dem g s in the universe who have glorified arrived at a state in which we regard it abso- lutely certain they will never do what is wrong. All who believe in a future life have no doubt that some, at least, of those who have lived here in the world will attain to this state. We frequently speak of this state as one in which those attaining to it can do no wrong. This, I take it, is not true nor consistent. If they cannot do wrong they are compelled to be virtuous, and this is not liberty ; it even seems to me to be not virtue. I see no reason why the loftiest and purest spirit in the universe cannot do wrong. It is certain that he never will, and that because he infinitely does not want to. He has become per- fectly adjusted to the great law of the universe, and he has no desires running counter to it. Hence there is no COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. 255 motive to violate it, no reason why he should do so, and men do not act without motives or reasons. This may be illustrated by a very simple analogy. For the most part, no man ever puts his hand into the fire. This is not because he cannot do so, but because he ,„ , . mi -i • . We do not does not want to. I he analogy is not quite put our hands perfect, but nearly enough so for our purpose. ^ because It is possible that there may be a sufficient rea- we cannot, son for a man to put his hand into the fire. It is we do not not possible that, to a soul such as we are sup- want t0 ' posing, there should be any reason for violating moral law. 256 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER VII. NECESSARY IDEAS PRODUCED BY THE COMBINED ACTION OF THE INTELLECT, SENSIBILITIES, AND WILL. As we saw in studying the Intellect by itself, there are certain necessary cognitions which are given us by the Reference to vei T ener gy °^ the Mind. So there were seen necessary to be certain other cognitions which necessarily viousi^con- arose, which are the product of the Mind, as In- sidered. tellect and Sensibilities combined. We are now to find that there are still other similar cognitions, which the Mind, as combined Intellect, Sensibilities, and Will, furnishes by its own power. I follow here the course so admirably marked out by Dr. Hopkins in his " Outline Study of Man." PERSONALITY. The first of these cognitions which we shall consider is Personality. As Being connects itself with all the cogni- tions of the mind as Intellect, and as Good underlies and is implied in all those products for which we are indebted to the combined Intellect and Sensibilities, so Per- Personality . , . , ,, closely re- sonality is present in, and gives character to, all th^othe? 1 those ideas to which the combination of the In- necessary tellect and the Sensibilities with the Will give ideas. rise. All the characteristics of the mental products of which we are now to take note are personal characteristics, and pertain to man simply as he is a person. NECESSARY IDEAS. 257 Personality cannot be defined. It is simple, and there- fore cannot be analyzed. It may be bounded off from other cognitions, but generally each one must go to . . . 6 , J , .f , Indefinable. his own consciousness for an account of it, and we can do little more than direct attention to it, with this end in view. A Person, then, is distinguished from a Thing. Person- ality belongs to a being having intelligence, self-direction, responsibility, freedom of moral action, and con- p erson an( i sciousness. It belongs to a being knowing him- tnin £- self as the originator of certain movements from within himself, who also knows himself at one point of time as identical with himself at some other point, and that he is the same, self-persistent and inalienable from his substance. POWER OR CAUSE. I put these two notions together, not as being identical, but as being intimately connected, — so intimately, that it is hardly possible to think of one without a suggestion of the other. Cause, I think, always implies Poiver. cause implies It is not so certain that Power always implies P° wer - Cause. It seems to me that we may conceive of Power as existing while not operating as Cause, — quiescent, inac- tive power, power as capability. Dr. Hickok asserts, and with some reason, that Power is not phenomenon, but notion. It is clearly not a matter of perception. But I do not think, as he seems to p owe mot think, that it is a product of the Discursive Fac- phenomenon, ulties. It is rather a product of the Reason, or the Regula- tive Faculty. We know it as we do other cognitions of this class, on the occasions on which it presents itself as Cause. The knowledge of it springs up on every such occasion from 258 PSYCHOLOGY. the very energy of our minds ; we cognize it because we cannot help doing so. It is a necessary idea. Probably our first cognition of it is always in our own personal exercise of it. We will a movement, we put forth its first cog- a volition, we realize that we are furnishing the psrsonai ex- beginning of a series of operations. We are erciseofit. powers, and we know ourselves to be such as certainly as we know anything whatever. A certain class of philosophers deny that causation im- plies power. They claim that it is simply another name for "Invariable Invariable Antecedency. If one event always pre- anteced- cedes another, they set it down, according to a general formula, that the former is the cause of the latter, and that there is no other condition but that of antecedent and consequent. But this fails to commend itself to the common-sense of man. Whether the average man can form any tolerable conception of cause or not, he is quite apt to make a clear distinction between it and a mere antecedent. No one ever thinks of regarding day as the cause of night, or night the cause of day, though they follow each other in invariable succession. In a country where buzzards and other birds of prey abound, a dead carcass will be the invariable antecedent of their gathering where it lies, but no one thinks that it compels them to Dr. Hickok's gather. As Dr. Hickok says, we may imagine illustration, £ W0 sets of wheels of two each. In one set the two are driven by separate powers, and yet so arranged that the cogs of the one wheel invariably match those of the other, each following each in perpetual succession. In the other set the construction is such that, one wheel being moved, its cogs drive the other. There is invariable suc- cession in each case. But any person of ordinary intelli- NECESSARY IDEAS. 259 gence will see at once that in the former case one wheel is not the cause of motion of the other, while he will see that in the latter case one is the cause of the other's motion. There are many instances in which one event follows another where both are caused by a common force, but it would be nonsense to say that, because one invariably fol- lows the other, the latter is the cause of the former. It has been maintained by some authorities that the idea of cause has been gained from experience, or observation of habitual repetition. That this is not so, is Not ined evident from observing the knowledge of cause byexperi- ence. in very young children. If you roll a ball along the floor and knock down some toy ten-pins, the two-year- old child, without having witnessed any such The young phenomenon before, knows that the rolling of ^asweiTas the ball is the cause of the falling of the ten- an adult, pins, just as well as if he had seen it a thousand times. He wants you to do it again, sure that the same consequent will follow. That is, he is certain that the same cause, under the same conditions, will always produce the same effect. If you build up a house with little blocks, and then, with a dash of your hand, knock it down, making a racket, the child can hardly wait till you build it up again before he imitates the stroke of the hand, knowing very well it will produce the same effect. "A burnt child dreads the fire," and it usualty does not require more than one burn to make the dread effectual. He is more certain of the effect than he ever can be made by a hundred paren- tal cautions and instructions. It seems clear enough, then, that a Cause is an antecedent that has power to compel a consequent, and that An anteced . our notion of Cause originates in our own con- ent with sciousness of power to produce effects, this con- I 260 PSYCHOLOGY. sciousness being occasioned by some putting forth of power The axiom D y our own will. The axiom connected with it implied. j S} as D r# Hopkins says, " Whatever begins to be must have a cause." FREEDOM. The doctrine on this subject has already been substan- tially set forth. The origin of the idea of Freedom remains Origin of the to be only briefly considered. It is a product of idea. ^ ie combined action of the Intellect, the Sensi- bilities, and the Will. It is a necessary idea, and, like all necessary ideas, it comes from the inherent energy of the mind whenever the occasion for it is presented. The occa- sion in this case is that of the exercise of the The occasion. „ . power of choice. " Let the opportunity or the necessity of choice between two different kinds of good be presented, and the idea of freedom at once emerges. Let, for instance, a man be required to choose between property and integrity, and he knows by necessity, and with a con- viction which nothing can strengthen and which nothing can shake, that he is free to choose either. The discussions about the freedom of the Will have been endless, but noth- ing has ever shaken the conviction of the race in regard to the elementary idea of freedom as involved in choice." * RIGHTS AND OBLIGATION. These are correlative, and consequently suggestive each of the other. When an individual has rights, every other Correlative individual is under obligation to respect those and mutually rights. Rights are closely connected with means of happiness or good. When a person has him- self produced what is a means of good to him, there arises 1 Dr. Hopkins: Outline Study of Man. NECESSARY IDEAS. 261 spontaneously in his mind, and in the mind of every other person cognizant of the facts, a conviction that he has a right to that product and the use of it. Here origin of the the idea of right emerges. It is an original and idea of right, necessary idea. Also, some other beings may be so related to us that we are responsible for their good, and they are dependent on us for direction and control. Here again the idea of right arises, as also the idea of obligation. Dr. Hopkins traces the conception of obligation to the opportunity of choice between a higher and a lower good, and insists that here is where this idea first The idea of arises. It would be impossible, he thinks, for obligation, two such objects of choice to be presented to the mind, and not be accompanied by the obligation to choose the higher. Here, too, as he teaches, is where the notion of moral right 1 emerges. He endeavors to show that an act is not right in itself, except as it implies the choice of a higher good than that involved in the alternative. This may or may not be true. I have no disposition to discuss the question here. But certainly we somehow, in the con- templation of actions or objects among which to choose, feel that to choose one of them is right, and to choose the other is not right, and we instantly are aware of the obli- gation to accept the right and reject the wrong. Here we come upon the idea of obligation, and we come upon it, as I think, nowhere else. Obligation, then, is from the Intellect and from the Sen- sibilities ; it also has relation to the Will. " As 0bliKation from the Intellect it is rational; as from the Sen- related to in- sibility it is emotive. It has in it, therefore, an sibiiiti'es, and element both of reason and of impulse, and so will. It is necessary to distinguish between right as the quality of an action, right as pertaining to the individual. 262 PSYCHOLOGY. is capable of becoming, and does become, an authoritative impulse. But an authoritative impulse is law, and, so far An inward as we can see ' i s the 0iu y possible form in which law - there can so be a law within the constitution, that a man can be a law unto himself. As authoritative, law must be both promissory and minatory ; for anything claiming to be a law without a sanction, expressed or im- plied, would be no law. But if promissory and minatory, then of what ? It must be of some good on the one hand, or of evil on the other, that may be realized in the sensi bility." 1 But we must apprehend the real nature of obligation. It is impulsive, not compulsive. We often use the term Obii ation obliged as if merely synonymous with necessi- not compul- toted. It is not so. A child is obliged — that is, under obligation — to obey his parents, as all men are also to obey God. This means merely that he ought to do so, but he is not necessitated or compelled to do so. It is possible to violate an obligation, and men often do this. It is true, as we have seen, that such a violation has its necessary penalty, as the fulfilment of the obligation has reward. These, however, operate as motives, and motives, as we have seen, are influential, but not compul- sory. MERIT AND DEMERIT. These are also original and necessary ideas, occurring to the mind only on certain occasions, and sure to arise then. Obligation furnishes the occasion, or, rather, the fulfilment or violation, of an obligation. There is not only a feeling of discomfort and degradation when 1 Dr. Hopkins. NECESSARY IDEAS. 263 we have violated an obligation, but there is an expectation of consequence, a sense that there is connected with the act some ill desert. In both these, there is an intellectual element, an idea ; and it is this idea that always arises by the mind's own energy on the occasion of fulfilling or violating an obligation, and in no other way. RESPONSIBILITY. We have already made some allusion to Responsibility, in discussing the subject of Freedom. Like the other terms which we have just considered, it indicates both a feeling and an idea. It thus has an element from the Intellect and an element from the Sensibility. It is also dependent on the Will, or rather upon the freedom of the D , mind in willing. For, as has been shown, no the will, as such thing as responsibility is thinkable unless the mind acts freely, and is the originator of its own choice or volition. The idea arises when the occasion Responsibii- of choice between two objects or actions presents j£^j£jj; itself, and a moral obligation is implied to choose freedom. one of them rather than the other. I ought to do this, says Conscience. I desire to do that, but ought not. The obli- gation does not constitute the responsibility, but Responsibii- it implies it. The obligation may be to one from^bhga- person, the responsibility to another ; or rather, tion. perhaps I should say, there is both obligation and responsi- bility to another. As, for instance, a parent sends a child to return a toy which he has borrowed from a playmate ; he is under obligation to the playmate, but responsible to the parent. 264 PSYCHOLOGY. PUNISHMENT. This idea originates on the occasion of violated obligation, and is a necessary idea. We must discriminate between that which is the mere consequence of an action, and the Differs from punishment for a violation of obligation. If by consequence mistake I drink a cup of poison, which I thought to be prescribed medicine, and am made sick, this is a consequence. Perhaps we may call it a Penalty and penalty of a violated natural law, but not a pun- punishment, isliment. But if I steal, and am arrested, tried, and convicted, and sent to prison, the imprisonment is, it is true, a consequence of my act, but it is something more, — it is a punishment. The idea is different and peculiar. It is found nowhere else but on the occasion of an act freely committed, but in violation of an obligation, and for which the person committing it is, therefore, responsible, and to which, in my mind, the notion of demerit necessarily at- taches itself. There is the expectation of a consequence that is not merely natural and unpleasant, but which is distinctly punitive. It will be readily seen that all the foregoing ideas are impossible, except on the supposition that the subject is free in his willing, and thus has the power to give charac- ter to his own acts. % *» ,r ^ V^ . : - *W, < - * . e*". Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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