PSYCHOLOGY iiwiiiiiiiii )C€Ult Psychic Phenomena z&mmMMM PSYCHOLOGY AS A NATURAL SCIENCE APPLIED TO THE SOLUTION OF Occult Psychic Phenomena V,j.f C> G. RAUE, M.D. *4 PHILADELPHIA: PORTER & COATES -\ Copyright, 1889, by G. G. Raue, M.I). PREFACE. The application of psychology as a natural science to the solution of occult psychic phenomena implies, first of all, a concise statement and a clear understanding of psychology as a natural science. For this reason, it was absolutely indis- pensable to devote a large space in this work to the elucidation of the principles upon which the final conclusions are based. Psychology as a natural science is the outcome of Dr. Fried- rich Eduard Beneke's labors to base philosophy on firm ground. The results of these profound investigations are laid down in the two volumes of his " Psychologische SJcizzen" Goet- tingen, bei Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1825 and 1827, and in many other works. In the year 1847 I published a little book under the title " Die neue Seelenlehre Dr. Beneke's, nach methodischen Grund- sdtzen in einfach entwickelnder Weise fur Lehrer bearbeitet," von C. G. Raue, with the object of popularizing Beneke's re- searches. This little book is the nucleus of the present work. It had five editions in the German language, each edition following the first having been revised and augmented by my friend and former teacher, J. G. Dressier, Seminar- director in Bautzen. In 1859 the third edition was translated into Flemish by J. Blockhuys (Ghent, Van Dooselaer), and the fourth into English, 1871, under the title " The Elements of Psychology, etc." (translator not named), Oxford and Lon- don, James Parker & Co. According to the Encyclopaedia Britannica there exists also a French translation which, how- ever, I have never seen. (3) 4 PREFACE. Prior to my knowledge of the existence of an English trans- lation, I had commenced to render the work into English my- self, with such alterations and additions as I deemed necessary; and these attempts at conveying my thoughts (originally con- ceived in the German idiom) into English were published in the New York Quarterly of Homoeopathy, from August, 1871, to August, 1874. In the same journal for August, 1870, I added a new part ^Physiological Psychology"), not contained in the original work. Part V of the present work (which was Part IV in the original) I have rewritten and enlarged to a great extent, but some of the chapters are presented partially or wholly in the language of the English translation, with which I had become acquainted in the meantime. All this, however, did not fully meet the requirements of the investigations into psychological facts so ably and per- sistently carried on of late years. To bring the entire work to a fitting consummation, it became my work to apply psychol- ogy as a natural science to the solution of those apparently occult phenomena w T hich, as far as I know, have resisted all attempts at solution by the methods of research employed by the old psychological as well as the new physiological schools. This application of psychology as a natural science to the solution of occult phenomena is the culminating point of this volume, and the result of my own thought and research. I have thus honestly endeavored to add my share of work to the grand labors of those indefatigable searchers after truth who are endeavoring to solve the vexed questions of psychic life and its seemingly mysterious phenomena. I am greatly indebted to Dr. E. R. Snader for his valuable assistance in seeing the work through the press. C. G. Raue. Philadelphia, 121 North Tenth St. CONTENTS. I. — The Intellectual Sphere of the Mind. Page 1. The Senses of Man 9 2. Cause and Condition of Seeing, Hearing, etc 10 3. Innate or Primitive Forces and External Stimuli 12 4. Union between Primitive Forces and Stimuli 13 5. Acuteness or Sensitiveness of the Primitive Forces 15 6. Vestiges — Mental Latencies . 16 7. Eetentiveness of the Primitive Forces — Memory 19 8. Gradation of the Primitive Forces in regard to their Eetentiveness ... 21 9. Like Unites with Like and Similar with Similar 24 10. Origin of Consciousness — Conception 26 11. Quantitative Eolation of Stimuli to the Primitive Forces 29 12. Perpetual Alternation between Consciousness and Unconsciousness ... 30 13. Second Manner in which Consciousness is resuscitated and again ceases to be Consciousness 32 14. Vivacity of the Primitive Forces, and its Influence upon the Process of Transient Consciousness 36 15. Origin of Concepts — Abstraction 39 16. Gradation of Concepts — Classification — Generalization 42 17. The Intellect— The Understanding 46 18. Judging — Judgment 43 19. Eeciprocal Influence of the Concept and Perception upon each other during an Act of Judging 49 20. Inferences — Syllogisms 50 21. Additional Eemarks on Judgments and Inferences 52 22. Summary 55 II. — The Sphere of Conation. 23. Explanation of the Term Conation 58 24. The Primitive Forces are Conative in their JSature 59 25. Quantitative Eelation between the External Stimuli and the Primitive Forces , 61 26. Mental Modifications Originating in Pleasurable Stimulations Eesult in Desires 64 (5) G CONTENTS. Page 27. How Far the Other Modes of Stimulation are Capable of Producing De- sires 65 28. The Act of Desiring is at the Same Time an Act of Conceiving — Two Different Forms of Reproduction of Pleasurable Modifications ... 67 29. Similar Desires Coalesce. — Inclination, Propensity, Passion 68 30. Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces Upon the Formation of Desires 69 31. External Stimuli and Primitive Forces as Mobile Elements 70 32. Office and Use of the Mobile Elements 73 33. Strong and Weak Modifications 76 34. Repugnancies, Aversion, Repulsion, Resistance 78 35. Repugnancies are Frequently Attended with Pain, and are then More Violent than Usual — Painful Emotions 81 36. Similar Aversions Coalesce 82 37. The Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces upon the Forma- tion of Aversions 83 38. Good and Evil 84 39. Unlike Mental Modifications Unite into Groups and Series 87 40. Some Important Series. — Cause and Effect. — End and Means 91 41. To Wish and to Will 94 42. Similar Volitions Coalesce. — Action 95 43. The W T ill of Man 97 44. Summary 99 III. — The Emotional Sphere, or Sphere of the Feelings. 45. During our Waking State there are Always Two or More Mental Modifi- cations, either Simultaneously or Successively Excited into Conscious- ness 102 46. All Mental Modifications Differ More or Less from Each Other .... 103 47. When Two or More Mental Modifications are Present Together in Con- sciousness, we Immediately Become Conscious of Their Difference. — Feelings 105 48. Factors of Feelings, 106 49. Extent of the Feelings. — Their Freshness or Vividness 109 50. The Same Mental Process may be Conception, Desire and Feeling at the Same Time Ill 51. Feelings of Pleasure and Pain — Difference between Sensation, Feeling and Perception 112 52. The Same Stimulation Does not Always Cause the Same Feeling . . . 116 53. Feelings of the Agreeable, of the Beautiful and the Sublime. — Their Proximate Factors 118 54. The Remote Factors of the ^Esthetic Feelings 120 55. Feelings of Strength of the Several Mental Modifications 125 56. Feelings of Clearness, Indistinctness and Obscurity of Conceptions . . 126 57. Valuation — Estimation of Worth 128 58. Gradation of Good and Evil 130 CONTENTS. 7 Page 59. The Gradation of Good and Evil is the Same in all Human Beings, Because that Gradation is Conditioned by the Inborn Nature of the Primitive Forces. — True Valuation 132 60. Apparent Contradictions. — False Valuation 135 61. The Feeling of Strength in Desires and Aversions 137 62. Immorality. — Moral Rudeness 137 63. Maliciousness, Wickedness 140 64. The Feeling of Duty.— Conscience 143 65. Freedom of "Will and Accountability 147 66. Feelings of Similar Character Increase their Effect when Co-existing in Consciousness 156 67. Dissimilar Feelings when Co-existing in Consciousness Restrain Them- selves in their Effect 157 68. Concluding Remarks 158 69. Summary . 161 IV. — Physiological Psychology. 70. Sensibility and Irritability 165 71. The Nervous System 168 72. The Sympathetic Nervous System 171 73. General Sensibility, or Common or General Sense of Feeling 174 74. The Muscular Sense and the Sense of Touch . . 177 75. The Sense of Taste and the Sense of Smell 179 76. The Sense of Hearing 182 77. The Sense of Sight 183 78. Stimuli, Excitants, or External Stimuli 184 79. The Sensory Nerve-Centres 187 80. The Sensory Faculties 190 81. The Bapidity of Sensorial Action 197 82. The Acuteness or Sensitiveness of the Primitive Foices 198 83. The Betentive Power of the Sensorial Forces 200 84. Conscious Development 204 85. Various Degrees of Clearness in Conscious Development 206 86. The Efferent Nerves 211 87. The W r hite Substance 213 88. Connection between the Gray and W T hite Substance of the Spinal Axis . 215 89. Function of the Spinal Cord. — Reflex Actioa 218 90. Volitions 227 91. The Feelings 233 92. Dr. L. S. Beale's Protoplasm 237 93. The Results of Microscopical and Psychological Investigations Com- pared. — Living and Dead ... 243 94. Beale on the Structure and Action of the Nervous Apparatus 247 95. Psychological Application 252 8 CONTENTS. Page V.— -Complementary Enquiries, 96. On the Method of the Study of Psychology 255 97. Consciousness aa the Opposite of Consciousness not yet Existing . . . 265 98. Consciousness as the Opposite of Unconscious Mental Modifications. — Reproduction 268 99. Direction in which the Current of Excitation (Reproduction) Proceeds 271 100. Attention.— Tact.— Productive Activity 277 101. The Laws of Association 281 102. Memory, Recollection, Imagination ( l< Einbildungsvorstellungen") . . 284 103. Complete or Partial Quiescence in the Soul — Sleep, Dreams .... 294 104. Consciousness of Psychological Piocesses which Depends on Special Concepts. — Internal Senses, Inner Perception, Self-Consciousness . . 309 105. On the Ego 315 106. Reason and Rationality, or Capacity for Reason 319 107. Instinct 323 108. Varied Combinations of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces. — Tem- peraments 340 109. Force and Matter 343 110. Soul and Body 349 111. Generation of Fresh Primitive Forces 362 112. Final and Necessary Separation of Soul from Body — Death. — Contin- uance of the Soul after Death 370 VI. — Occult Phenomena. 113. Sensitivity 380 114. Muscle-reading, Mind-reading, Thought-transference 388 115. Mesmerism, Animal Magnetism, Tellurism, Hypnotism, Statuvolism . 401 116. Theories Explaining the Mesmeric State 423 117. Psychological Considerations of the Mesmeric State 428 118. Consciousness during the Mesmeric State 443 119. Hallucinations — Delusions 467 120. Rapport between the Operator and the Subject 477 121. Somnambulism 481 122. Prophecies, Second Sight and Retrospection 498 123. Psychic Action at a Distance; Telepathy, Telergy, the Double, Appa- ritions 508 124. Phantasms of the Dead. — Haunted Houses 525 / 125. Spiritualistic Phenomena 531 PART I. THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 1. The Senses of Man. Light, if it enters the eye, either coming from luminous bodies or reflected from different objects (of various shades and colors, figures, extension and distance), excites the sense of sight. Sound of all kinds — the product of the action of various agents upon the surrounding air, by which the air is thrown into a state of vibration, melodious or otherwise — acts upon the sense of hearing. Externality — extension, form, hardness, softness, roughness, smoothness, etc., of objects which may come within our reach are appreciated by the sense of touch. Flavors — those peculiar exhalations which have as yet escaped chemical analysis, and which are as diverse in char- acter as are the different colors or the different sounds — by that of smell. Savors — those impressions which substances make upon the tongue by virtue of their sapidity, and whose variety is mul- titudinous — by that of taste. These different faculties are called senses; and because each sense is confined to a particular organ — as sight to the eyes, hearing to the ears, touch especially to the fingers' points, smell to the nose and taste to the tongue — they are called organic or fixed senses. We receive, moreover, still other 2 (9) 10 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MINI). impressions. The coolness or warmth of the atmosphere, its sultriness, dampness or dryness, the irritation of various things when applied to the external skin, we can feel. All these im- pressions seem to be related to tactual sensations, and may be considered as a continuation of the sense of touch. Very closely allied to the tactual sense also are the sensa- tions we obtain from the exercise of our muscles, and by which we become cognizant, not only of the weight and resistance of external bodies, but also learn to exactly estimate the degree of contraction necessary for any of our bodily mo- tions. A long-continued use of the muscles produces the sen- sation of fatigue or weariness. All these sensations we ascribe to the action of the muscular sense. Hunger, thirst, satiety, fulness, emptiness, pain, colic, are utterances of the states of the digestive apparatus and abdomi- nal viscera. Further, the sensations which originate in the several conditions of the air-passages, of the circulatory appa- ratus and of the sexual sphere, announce the regularity or irregularity with which the functiones vitales of the organism are going on. We may call the faculties in which these sen- sations originate the vital senses. Their bodily organs are the s}'stem of widely-diffused sentient cranio-spinal nerves and the sympathetic system. A more detailed consideration of the senses is given in the physiological part of this work. 2. Causes and Conditions of Seeing, Hearing, etc. A dead man can neither see, hear, touch, smell, taste, nor feel, because he is a body without a soul. But in life we also fail to exercise these faculties when we are asleep, or in a state of syncope. Some lunatics do not heed the pricking of needles, or the application of red-hot iron to their bodies; they do not hear the report of a pistol shot off close to their ears; they are entirely unaffected by the strongest odors, or the severest cold, although their sen- sory organs appear to be in perfect health. Facts similar to these, although less striking, are frequently met with in nor- CAUSES AND CONDITIONS OF SEEING, HEARING, ETC. 11 mal states of life. Many a soldier, wounded in the heat of battle, has been unconscious of it until the fight was over. The card-player is sometimes so deeply engaged in the game that he observes nothing transpiring about him. We are some- times so intently absorbed in our thoughts, or in the pur- suit of some object, that pickpockets find it an easy task to steal our purse; and we may hear the most interesting discourse without giving sufficient heed to it to recall a single idea it may contain. We may read a whole page without fixing in the mind a single idea there stated. In order, there- fore, to perceive external impressions, it is not only necessary that there be a soul, but that the soul shall also be in a fit condition to receive external impressions. Hence, we conclude that the first cause for the exercise of our senses lies in the soul, because a corpse neither sees nor hears ; nor are the impression-receiving functions ever exercised to their full ex- tent when the soul is pre-occupied by something else and does not or cannot receive present external impressions. The exer- cise of the senses is, therefore, an activity of the soul. It is the soul that sees; it is the soul that hears, etc. Still, so long as the soul is united to the body, and through that body with the exterior world, we may naturally suppose that the soul's functions stand in a conditional relation to the body as well as to the things without. In this respect experience teaches, that if a person's eyes (or optic nerves, or the portions of brain where these nerves originate) are destroyed, that per- son cannot see. The same is true of all the other senses. The exercise of the normal functions of the soul to see, hear, touch, taste and smell, requires sound bodily organs as necessary conditions, by which alone such actions can be performed. Similarly the artist needs a piano, a violin or other instrument, in order to exhibit his skill. Concerning the conditions which lie in the external world, Abercrombie remarks : " We see not without the presence both of light and a body reflecting it; and if we could sup- pose light to be annihilated, though the eye were to retain its perfect condition, sight would be extinguished." Nay, I 12 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. may add, the eyes would gradually shrink to mere rudi- mentary organs, as the well-known blind fishes of the great Kentucky Cave clearly demonstrate. Analogous remarks are applicable to sound, flavor, savor and tactile qualities; their absence would at once render futile all efforts of the best faculties to receive impressions concerning them, even though the soul be provided with perfect receiving organs. Another condition necessary for the proper exercise of the normal func- tions of the soul of seeing, hearing, etc., is, therefore, that the things without should be capable of acting, and actually should act, upon the senses. 3. Innate or Primitive Forces and External Stimuli. So soon as it is born, a child, provided its sense organs are sound, can see, hear, etc., at once, but it is unconscious of doing so. The exercise of these faculties is the first utterance of its mental nature. Father, mother, sisters and brothers it knows not. Still less is it capable of speaking, thinking or judging. In short, we observe no sign of intellectual powers, representative or reflective, in the child; they have all yet to be developed. But the ability to see, to hear, to taste, etc., is observable from birth. Hence, we may call them the innate faculties of man — the primitive or original forces of the soul — out of which, as we shall see, all further capabilities gradually evolve, as the tree develops out of the seed. These primitive forces, however, would be of no avail if there were no external things that could affect them (2). In order to see, there must be light, and things reflecting it; in order to hear, there must be an atmosphere, and things causing it to vibrate, etc. All the influences of external things on the child, necessary for seeing, hearing, etc., we call stimuli; and we may therefore say for seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling and feeling there are required: 1. Primitive forces of the soul, and 2. Stimuli of the external world. The external stimuli act upon the primitive forces, so long as we are in a normal condition, invariably through the medium of healthy sensory organs. union between primitive forces and stimuli. 13 4. Union between Primitive Forces and Stimuli. If we hold an object before a young child, it turns its eyes toward it. Perhaps it attempts to seize it with its little hands in order to touch it, and possibly brings the thing into contact with its mouth before it is entirely satisfied. "We observe an object far off, but too distant to recognize it. We then make an effort to catch even the faintest glimpse of it. Imagine the crew of a wreck, how their eyes seek for land or an approaching vessel. During the night we hear a noise, but it is not dis- tinct. Hark! what is it? Is not our faculty of hearing all on the alert to catch the sound ? In short, the primitive forces are not merely passively impressed by the external stimuli, but they tend toward them, receive them actively, because the primitive forces are soul and life themselves. We may either seek to find an object, or the object may strike our eyes casually. In either case, so soon as the stimuli of sight emanating from that body come in contact with our forces of sight, that moment we see that body. In the same way we hear a bird, if his song reaches our ears. In other words, the stimuli of hearing (the sounds which emanate from the bird) come in contact with our primitive forces of hearing, and are received by them. A similar process takes place when we touch, smell, taste or feel. In all instances stimuli must come in contact with corresponding primitive forces, and must be received by them. The moment this takes place we either see, hear, touch, smell, taste or feel. There is a wide field for speculation to determine how this may happen, or, in other words, how matter and mind can form a union. Indeed this field has been ploughed in- dustriously by hundreds of philosophers, from Plato and Aristotle down to Reid and Brown. It is interesting to read the accounts of these labors, as given by Sir William Hamil- ton in his Lectures on Metaphysics and Logic, Vol. I, from page 279 to 396. I shall at present confine myself to the statement of the simple fact which consciousness teaches the unbiased observer, viz. : We see, hear, touch, smell, taste or feel ichenever our primitive forces are acted upon by corresponding stimuli. 14 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. For seeing, hearing, etc., we may use the general term of sens- ing or perceiving; hence the proposition would be this : The union of primitive forces with corresponding stimuli results in sen- sations or perceptions. The difference between sensation and perception will be explained further on. As this process goes on continually under the above-named normal conditions, we may state the following proposition as the. first fundamental process for all mental development, namely : In the human soul originate sensations and perceptions in consequence of impressions or stimuli from the external world upon the primitive forces of the soul. Winslow expresses this idea as follows on page 108 : " Sensations are effects, in the pro- duction of which are causes without exciting the organs and the mind, an intelligent agent, acting in connection with the organ at the same time. The united action of both the organ and the mind is essential to sensation. The organ, then, is the mutual instrument of mind and matter — the point at which the two worlds meet. Whatever operates upon the organ from without is the occasional cause of sensation ; the organ is the instrumental cause ; the mind is both the agent and the subjective cause of it." When we speak of primitive forces of the soul, we do not mean to imply that they are something separate from the soul, a something possessed or owned by it, but they constitute the very essence or being of which the soul consists at birth. Just as the body of man, animal, or plant, is evolved from living matter or bioplasm (as Dr. Lionel S. Beale has proved microscopically, in his work, " The Protoplasm," to which I can here merely refer), so the primitive forces of the soul are the spiritual substances out of which all mental modifications gradually, and in consequence of corresponding stimuli, de- velop. And it may as well be stated now that each sense consists of innumerable single primitive forces ; that the so-called faculty of sight, hearing, tasting, etc., is not a one-power, except if con- sidered in abstracto, but that each sensory faculty consists of separate single forces, which are severally modified by the various stimuli acting upon them. These propositions, how- ever, will become clearer as we progress in our investigations. ACUTENESS OR SENSITIVENESS OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 15 5. ACUTENESS OR SENSITIVENESS OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. The human senses are endowed with quite different degrees of acuteness. Some persons, for example, are able to detect the smallest differences in shades and other visible qualities of objects, which others do not perceive. Again, some can perceive the slightest variations of sound. As a familiar example may be cited the so-called musical ear, which perceives any deviation from clearness and purity in a succession of tones, which an unmusical ear does not detect. There are remarkable instances on record of the acuteness of the sense of touch, by which blind men are able to distinguish pieces of coin, and even detect counterfeits, etc., showing a power of minute discrimination in the tactual faculties, to which those who can see rarely, if ever, attain. " A dealer in wines said he had handled more than ten thou- sand different qualities, each of w T hich had an odor peculiar to itself. A person of a very discriminating smell said that he had never found two roses, even on the same bush, of precisely the same odor." ( Winsloiv's Elements of Intellectual Philosophy, p. 82.) How many others say all wines and all roses smell alike. " It is somewhere said of a celebrated cook, who had been in service fifty years, and who had prepared on an average fifty dishes a day, that he never made two dishes of precisely the same flavor." (Winslow, p. 85.) How many can be found who can scarcely distinguish beef from mutton if they can not see the meat. Some persons are exceedingly sensitive to any change in the atmosphere changes, which others do not mind. The same variety of acuteness is also exhibited in the senses of different animals. We observe an extraordinary degree of keenness of smell in dogs, of sight in chickens, of touch in spiders, etc. All this leads us to the conclusion that the primitive forces are not alike acute in all persons, but vary greatly as to the degree with which they are apt to be affected by even the minutest, or only by coarser stimuli. If we carry our investigations further, we observe that this quality is not equally distributed through all the different classes of 16 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. primitive forces in one and the same person. He who is en- dowed with great acuteness of sight may, but need not neces- sarily, possess a like amount of acuteness of hearing, etc. On the contrary, we observe that each class of primitive forces has its own degree of acuteness. Any degree in the one may be associated with any degree in either of the other classes of primitive forces. It follows thus that among millions of human beings no two can be found exactly alike as regards the sensitiveness of all their primitive forces. This acuteness or sensitiveness is, therefore, a quality with which the different classes of primitive forces are endowed in varying degrees, each class representing its own quality by a greater or less de- gree of aptness in becoming affected by, or capacity to appre- hend, a given amount of stimuli. It may even here be surmised that the quality of the primi- tive forces must have an important bearing upon the whole future mental development of the individual, inasmuch as a higher degree of acuteness must necessarily result in fresher and fuller sensations and perceptions than a lower one. 6. Vestiges— Mental Latencies. Suppose we see a plant for the first time. As always when we see, our primitive forces of sight are acted upon by the stimuli of light which emanate from that plant. After a while the plant is carried away, and we may forget all about it. Next day some one asks us whether we have seen the plant, and at once it stands before our mind, perhaps with all the peculiar features of its leaves, flowers, etc., precisely as we saw it. Another, who did not see the plant, knows nothing about it. The same result is obtained when we try the ex- periment with any of the other senses ; for we can likewise recollect what we have heard, touched, smelled, tasted, or felt, but we cannot recollect or have a mental picture of a thing of which we had not previously obtained a sensation or per- ception. It is clear, therefore, that the act of seeing, hearing, etc., is not without lasting effects upon the primitive forces. By the action of stimuli (4) the primitive forces become per- VESTIGES — MENTAL LATENCIES. 17 manently modified in an exact correspondence to the external stimuli, acting upon them. The primitive forces continue to remain thus specifically developed (a development they did not previously possess). In consequence of this fact alone is it possible to recall things long after they themselves may have perished, and sometimes almost as vividly as though they were still acting upon our senses. Any act of perceiving, then, causes a lasting effect, an objective development of the percipient primitive forces. This is an every-day observation which needs no further confirmation. What I have to say is, that modifications of the primitive forces, as they originate in the act of perceiving, do not remain conscious, but become unconscious (we forget them), and remain in this state until they are roused again into a state of consciousness. We then recollect them. (Compare 12 and 13 ) "We are conscious of certain cognitions as acquired, and we are conscious of these cognitions as resuscitated. That in the interval, when out of consciousness, these cognitions continue to subsist in the mind, is certainly an hypothesis, because whatever is out of consciousness can only be assumed; but it is an hypothesis which we are not only warranted, but necessitated by the phenomena, to establish." (Hamilton, p. 414.) They are mental developments in a latent state, which Beneke calls "Spuren," i. e. vestiges, and Webster defines ves- tiges as "the remains or marks of anything left, when the thing itself no longer exists." In the original the word vestige meant a material impression upon matter. But, applying this term to mental developments, we enlarge its meaning, and designate by it specific modifications of the primitive forces by the action of external stimuli upon them, which modifications continue to exist as such in a latent state. Sir Wm. Hamilton broaches this subject in Lectures xviii. et seq. He says: "Whether the mind exerts energies, and is the subject of modifications, of neither of which it is conscious, is the most general expression of a problem which has hardly been mentioned, far less mooted, in this country ; and when it has attracted a passing notice, the supposition of an unconscious action or passion of the mind has been treated as 18 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. something either unintelligible or absurd. In Germany, on the contrary, it has not only been canvassed, but the alter- native, which philosophers of this country have lightly con- sidered as ridiculous, has been gravely established as a con- clusion which the phenomena not only warrant but enforce." He then goes on to prove the fact " that the mind may, and does, contain far more latent furniture than consciousness informs us it possesses," and he calls the hidden riches of our mind " latent agencies, modifications of which we are unconscious, — mental latencies" I may, in my future explanations, make use of any of these expressions, with the distinct understanding that I mean by the use of them objectively developed 'primitive forces in their unconscious existence, extending thus the mean- ing of vestiges from a term simply implying mere modifica- tions of the primitive forces by the action of external stimuli, to all and any modifications which primitive forces in tjie course of mental development may undergo. "We shall, by further investigation, find that any kind of mental development, no matter from what cause or in w T hat manner originating, if once originated in a sufficient degree of perfection, continues to exist as a vestige or mental latency ; for "it is a universal law of nature, that every effect endures as long as it is not modified or opposed by any other effect." {Hamilton, p. 416.) To prove this assertion there is much evidence showing that the mind frequently contains whole systems of knowledge, which knowledge (though w T e are in our normal state, has faded into absolute oblivion) may, in certain abnormal states — such as madness, febrile delirium, somnambulism, catalepsy, etc. — flash out into luminous consciousness, and even throw into the shade of unconsciousness those other systems by which they had, for a long period, been eclipsed and even extinguished. For example, " there are cases in which the extinct memory of whole languages was suddenly restored." {Hamilton, 6.) Such a case is that of the Comtesse de Laval, who had been nursed during her infancy in the Province of Brittany. When grown up, during an indisposition, she commenced to talk in her sleep in the Breton idiom; yet, when it was repeated to her in her waking hours, she did not understand a single syllable RETENTIVENESS OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES — MEMORY. 19 of what she had uttered in her sleep. "And what is still more remarkable, there are cases in which the faculty was exhibited of accurately repeating, in known or unknown tongues, pas- sages which were never within the grasp of conscious memory in the normal state." (Hamilton.) Such a case is that reported by Coleridge of a young woman, who, during an attack of nervous fever, talked incessantly in Latin, Greek and He- brew, in very pompous tones and with most distinct enun- ciation. This woman could neither read nor write, but dur- ing her childhood she had been in the house of a pastor, whose habit for years it was to walk up and down a passage of his house, into which the kitchen door opened, and read to himself in a loud voice out of his favorite books. These declamations had been listened to by the child in the kitchen, and produced vestiges which, under the extraordinary stimulus of a nervous fever, rose into consciousness, while under ordinary circumstances they never so rose. (Hamilton, p. 238, etc.) A number of other well-authenticated cases, having a similar bearing, are related by Abercrombie in his Inquiries Concerning the Intellectual Powers, p. Ill, and at 220 et seq. 7. Ketentiveness of the Primitive Forces — Memory. A superficial observation will convince us that the vestiges produced in different persons by the same external stimuli are not all of a like nature. Suppose twenty persons, alike interested in the subject, listen to one and the same lecture, or look at one and the same object, will the effect on each one be the same? We can easily ascertain by inquiring next day what the several persons know about the subject. Some, no doubt ; will be able to give a very accurate account, while others can- not. Every teacher knows it to be a fact that certain pupils — and not always the most industrious — generally know their lessons better than others. How is this ? Vestiges are objectively developed primitive forces in their latent state. In 5 we have seen that the different classes of primitive forces exhibit different degrees of acuteness. Such forces as are endowed with a great degree of acuteness will 20 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. surely be modelled in finer shades and necessarily produce fresher and fuller perceptions, and consequently fresher and fuller vestiges of such perceptions; therefore, persons who pos- sess more acute forces of seeing or hearing than others, will thereby be enabled to relate more accurately what they have seen or heard. But acuteness alone will not suffice. What advantage is it to pour water into a sieve plentifully and con- tinually ? Although the sieve receives the water, it does not keep it. In like manner, what would it amount to if I were in possession of the most acute forces, receiving thereby the minutest impressions, but did not retain them ? In the first place, I would not succeed in gathering water; and, applying the illustration to the imperfect reception and retention of im- pressions, I would never be able to reproduce sensations. Only by the duration of that definite change which the primitive forces undergo by the action of external stimuli, vestiges originate ; and the more perfectly this specific development endures, the more perfect will be the vestiges, and conse- quently the clearer will be the recollection of them. A higher or lower degree of acuteness modifies the recollections as to their accuracy, but clearness of recollection depends upon the degree of preservation in which the formed modifications endure. Hence, it is not unusual to meet persons who know a little of everything, but nothing thoroughly; while others have a small circle of knowledge, characterized by great clear- ness. Now, then, if experience teaches that some persons can and do recollect what they have seen and heard better than others, it follows that the modifications caused by stimuli endure in dif- ferent persons in different degrees of perfection ; and that, there- fore, the primitive forces of man differ in a second quality, viz.: In the energy or tenacity with which they continue to exist more or less perfectly in that definite change which they have undergone by the action of external stimuli upon them. In addition I might remark that, in order to procure a distinct modification, the stimuli should act fully and steadily upon the recipient forces ; and it is furthermore obvious that, to procure a thorough cognition of an extensive ob- GRADATION OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 21 ject, the different stimuli which emanate from the several parts of that body must act severally upon corresponding primitive forces, so that the recollection of such an object — a house, for example — consists, not of a single vestige, but of the several vestiges which have been produced by the action of the different stimuli emanating from the several parts of the house. In this quality of the primitive forces exists the founda- tion of what in ordinary language is understood by the terms good or bad, and long or short memory. It is good, or long, when the primitive forces maintain in great perfection that state of specific development which they have obtained by the action of stimuli, so that we afterwards can recall to mind what we have perceived almost as clearly as though it were present to our senses. It is bad, or short, when the modified primitive forces do not remain in such perfection ; when, therefore, they lack energy or retentive power. This state, of course, gives only faint vestiges, and their representation in recollection must be equally faint, if no new addition of the same stimuli by which they were produced be operative. We see, therefore, that what in common language is called memory, is not a special faculty outside the primitive forces of man, but that memory consists solely in the quality possessed by the primitive forces of continuing to persist more or less permanently in that specific development which has been wrought in them by the action of external stimuli. As vestiges are produced, however, from all conscious acts in the soul, memory is not confined to external impressions alone. (Compare 75.) 8. Gradation of the Primitive Forces in regard to their retentiveness. " When we recollect an external object, I think we much more readily recall the visual conception than any other. I may examine a ball by touch, and obtain a knowledge of its form and magnitude; but when I think of it, the visual appearance presents itself most readily to my mind. Almost 22 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. all the conceptions of figurative language are derived from sight."— Wayland, p. 69. " It has frequently happened that the most eminent musicians have been afflicted with deafness. It is delightful to observe that this infirmity only in a modified degree deprives them of their accustomed pleasure. They sit at an instrument, touch- ing the notes as usual, and become as much excited with their own conceptions as they were formerly by sounds." — Wayland, p. 55. "When we see a blind person read with his fingers, we must be convinced that he has as definite a conception of the forms of letters as we ourselves have by sight." — Wayland, p. 63. The cited cases prove that the three systems of primitive forces — sight, hearing and touch — form vestiges of great perfection; that they are, therefore, endowed with a high degree of energy. When a clock strikes, a child generally turns its head toward the sounding body to see it. When we listen to an orator^ we generally try to get in a position where we can also have a look at him. A strange word is better kept if we see it written, and the proverb says : " One eye is a better witness than two ears." The highest development of the sense of touch w T e find in those who are blind from birth. If, however, they become able to see, they rely upon the sense of sight principally, as do those who have enjoyed it from birth. It seems, therefore, that the forces of seeing yield the most perfect vestiges; that they possess retentiveness or energy in a higher degree than the others. This seems to be the norm. Still there may be persons in whom the hear- ing forces preponderate over those of sight in regard to energy, as indeed each system of forces is endowed with its own degree of acuteness as well as of energy (5). " After having smelled an odorous body, I know that I should be able to recognize that particular odor again. I can- not form a conception of the smell of a rose, but I know that I could, if it ivere present, immediately recognize it and dis- tinguish it from all other odors." — Wayland, p. 44. " I think that men generally have no distinct conception of GRADATION OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 23 an absent taste., but only a conviction that they should easily recognize it if it were again presented to them. This form of recollection may be so strong as to create a longing for a par- ticular flavor, but still there is no conception like that pro- duced by either sight or touch." — Wayland, p. 47. The same is true in regard to the general sense of feeling. No one is capable of recalling the sensation of chilliness so long as he feels warm, although every one would recognize it at once should he be attacked by a chill. There is evidently a great difference between the primitive forces of feeling and those of sight, hearing and touch. While sight, hearing and touch are capable of producing vestiges which, on be- ing recalled, appear about as clear as the identical impres- sions by which they were caused, we find that smell, taste, and the general sense of feeling are decidedly deficient in this particular. The vestiges produced in these systems are by far too imperfect to reproduce in themselves a clear recollection without a new addition of the stimuli by which they originated. They are, therefore, much inferior to the other senses. On this ground, in regard to energy, we may divide the senses into two classes — higher and lower. The higher comprise sight, hearing, and touch, because their forces are endowed with such a degree of retentiveness or energy as to produce vestiges which can be recalled in the mind with a degree of clearness that is almost equal to the original im- pression. All science, in fact, is based upon these senses. The lower comprise smell, taste, and the vital senses, because their objective development is not of so persistent a nature as is essential for a clear recollection without the addition of new stimuli. No one has ever succeeded, not even the great Lin- naeus, in classifying flowers, for instance, according to their smell and taste, because these forces do not yield products sufficiently clear and distinct for such a purpose. We thus must recognize a marked difference between the several systems of primitive forces in man — a. difference which manifests itself in a gradual diminution of retentiveness from sight and hearing down to the lower and vital senses. Indeed, it is this quality of the primitive forces which constitutes the 24 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. specific difference between man and animals; for, although many species of animals possess the same systems of primitive forces as man, and some in even greater acuteness, none are endowed with a sufficient degree of energy to produce vestiges, which, without a repetition of corresponding stimuli, result in clear recollections. The highest development of animals may, perhaps, equal the lowest human develop- ment. Man may succeed by perseverance in drilling single animals to a certain degree of culture, but their whole kind remains specifically the same as it was thousands of years ago. The energy of the primitive forces is the basis for all higher mental development. 9. Like Unites with Like and Similar with Similar. We have thus far seen that external stimuli act upon cor- responding primitive forces; that the product of such actions remains as vestiges, which are more perfect in proportion as the primitive forces are more retentive; that the greatest conserva- tive power belongs to the higher class of senses, sight, hearing, and touch; and that, therefore, these senses are the basis of all higher mental development. It remains, however, to go still further into detail, for this fact is not sufficient to explain the greater or lesser clearness of recollecting objects we have perceived by the same system of primitive forces. Every one knows that what we have seen or heard only once, cannot compare in clearness of recollection with what we have seen or heard many times, provided the acts of perceiving were alike per- fect. Only by repeated action of the same stimuli the little beginner gradually gains a knowledge of the A-B-Cs, and finally he learns to spell and read. There is the same ex- perience in the acquirement of all kinds of knowledge. In order to gain a clear recollection or knowledge of a thing we must have repeated perceptions of that thing. But, even then, what would it amount to if these several perceptions remained as so many several vestiges singly and uncom- bined ? Would not the one-hundredth leave us just where we w 7 ere when we made the first ? As this, however, is contrary LIKE UNITES WITH LIKE AND SIMILAR WITH SIMILAR. 25 to all experience, we come to the necessary conclusion, inas- much as we gain clearer recollection or knowledge by repeated perception, that the several vestiges which originate from like per- ceptions all unite into one aggregate. This can be proved by thousands of facts. When I see the first violet in spring, it strikes me at once as an old acquaintance, the like of which I have seen hundreds of times before ; but if I should happen to see a flower which I never had seen before, it would appear to me as something new. In the first instance the new impres- sion associates with all the like vestiges previously obtained ; in the second the new flower finds no vestige of former like im- pressions. We observe the same fact if we watch the develop- ment of an infant. When born it receives external stimuli through all its senses, incongruously, just as they happen to come. We find it first learns to know its mother, because from her it receives the first and most numerous impressions, and in the same way it learns to know other objects, according to the number of impressions it receives from them. Order is thus at once established; for, no matter how indiscriminately external stimuli may act upon the child's senses — as in fact they do — they do not mix and mingle ad libitum, but unite strictly according to their similarity, and constitute in this way homogeneous aggregates, which are the more lucid and clear in proportion as their vestiges are more like and numerous. But closer observation teaches us still more. Not only what is perfectly alike unites with the like, but even that which is only similar. Almost every one, in walking the streets, has mistaken an en- tire stranger for an old acquaintance, because at first sight that person looked very similar to the other. It is of very frequent occurrence that children, before they have acquired percep- tions of what is identical, confound objects with what is merely similar. To them all things that fly are birds, even bats and butterflies. All grown persons who stand in a friendly rela- tion to their parents are uncles and aunts, etc. Even the every-day expressions, as, this looks, sounds, tastes, smells, etc., very much like or similar to that or another thing, prove that not only like and like, but also the similar, unites with the sim- 3 20 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. ilar. And as we shall find in the course of our investigations, that not only new impressions unite with vestiges of similar impressions previously acquired, but that likewise all other mental acts unite according to their similarity, we may state as a second fundamental process : In the human soul unite con- tinually the like with the like and the similar with the similar, pro- ducing in this way units of a more or less homogeneous com- pound. This process I shall call the attraction of like to like. 10. Origin of Consciousness — Conception. No one has any recollection of his first year's existence. Gradually the child becomes cognizant of the things around it. When it is born, the only faculties the child exhibits are those of seeing, hearing, etc., and by their use gradually gains a knowledge or consciousness of certain things. On watching closely we observe that this consciousness of things grows clearer in proportion to the frequency with which the same things are made to act upon the senses, or, expressed in terms already used, in the ratio of the increase in the number of vestiges which the child acquires in accordance with the law of attraction of like to like. Only by the repeated action of similar stimuli upon corresponding primitive forces, or, what is the same, by the formation and union of many similar or like vestiges, the child gradually becomes conscious of the things around it. The same truth holds good in after-life. The most striking examples of this truth are offered by per- sons who, being blind from birth, have gained their sight in mature age by a successful operation. At first they knew nothing at all of what they saw. The most remarkable case of this kind is that which Cheselden relates in the Philosophi- cal Transactions for the year 1728. Mr. Cheselden says: "When he (the gentleman who had been blind from birth) first saw, he was so far from making any judgment about distances, that he thought all objects whatever touched his eyes (as he expressed it), as what he felt did his skin, and thought no objects so agreeable as those w T hich were smooth and regular, though he could form no judgment of theii*shape ORIGIN OF CONSCIOUSNESS — CONCEPTION. 27 or guess what it was in any object that was pleasing to him. He knew not the shape of anything, nor any one thing from another, however different in shape or magnitude; but upon being told what things were, whose form he before knew from feeling, he would carefully observe, that he might know them again; but having too many objects to learn at once, he forgot many of them ; and (as he said) at first learned to know and again for- got a thousand things in a day. One particular only (though it may appear trifling) I will relate: Having often forgot which was the cat and which the dog, he was ashamed to ask, but catching the cat (which he knew by feeling) he was observed to look at her steadfastly, and then setting her down, said, " So, puss! I shall know you another time." We see thus that things which were known to him by the sense of touch and hearing, etc., he had no consciousness of when seeing them, until he had acquired by repeated acts of seeing a sufficient number of visual vestiges. It is then a matter of experience that we become conscious of external things only in the degree in which we have gained vestiges by repeated perceptions of them. Repeated actions of similar external stimuli upon corre- sponding primitive forces and their union into homogeneous aggregates are the necessary conditions for the production of conscious modifications in the sold. What, then, is the source of consciousness ? Is it the primitive forces? In themselves they are entirely uncon- scious. Is it the external stimuli ? They at no time produce consciousness except by their action upon primitive forces. Both, then, must be considered as taking part in the produc- tion of consciousness. Nevertheless, the deepest source must be attributed to the primitive forces, inasmuch as the same external stimuli act upon other things and never cause any- thing like consciousness, and different systems of primitive forces produce different degrees of clearness of recollection. The unconscious primitive forces possess an inherent ca- pacity of becoming conscious, which capacity becomes actual, so soon as they are modified by the influence of stimuli. We find the clearness of consciousness increase in the same ratio as similar perceptions are repeated, and it follows that the 28 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. first vestige must possess a certain quantum of this conscious- ness, though as yet in an embryonic state. The same is true of all internal acts and developments, as shall hereafter be demonstrated. We may say, then, that the greater the num- ber of similar vestiges, the clearer will be the consciousness of the aggregate which originates in and from these several vestiges. This fact explains why repetition is indispensable in order to obtain any kind of knowledge. We must perform the same mental act over and over again, until at length we gain as many vestiges as are necessary to constitute sufficiently clear and conscious mental acts. The accumulation of vestiges is the necessary condition of all mental progress: Repetitio est mater studiorum. Whenever a sufficient number of similar vestiges have united for us to have a clear consciousness of the object from which the external stimuli were obtained — although the external object be no longer present — we say we have a con- ception of that object; or, we can conceive of it. This sense of the word conception has been introduced by Stewart, and means a re-calling or re-presentation of previous perceptions, and seems to have been universally adopted, although Hamilton opposes it strong^ in his Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 452. Hamilton says: "This term ought to have been left to denote, what it previously did, and only properly could be applied to express the notions we have of classes of objects, in other words, what have been called our general ideas" I do not find, however, another word by which I can better express the German term Vorstellung and Vorstellen, which means to place before, and which Beneke applies to the conscious re-pres- entation of previously acquired vestiges, as described above. If we consider the influence which different degrees of acute- nessand energy of the primitive forces must exercise upon the formation of conceptions, we find that a higher degree of acuteness must procure more accurate and more finely- shaded conceptions; and a higher degree of energy must produce clearer and more lucidly conscious ones. Indeed the energy of the primitive forces is the actual cause of all consciousness; and we find, therefore, that the development of consciousness RELATION OF STIMULI TO THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 29 goes hand in hand with the degree of energy which the dif- ferent classes of primitive forces possess (8). This is the reason why our conceptions of objects of sight, hearing and touch are much clearer than those of smell, taste and feeling; and not (as Stewart suggests) " because visible things are complex, presenting a series of connected points of observation; thus being a result to which the association of ideas largely con- tributes." The energy of the primitive forces, then, is the origin of con- sciousness, and of that form of consciousness which is directly opposite to that state of the human soul in which it had no consciousness, because its primitive forces had not yet been modified by any external stimuli. We will consider con- sciousness in its transient state (12), and in its form as self- perception, at a later occasion. 11. Quantitative Relation of Stimuli to the Primitive Forces. Perceptions, and consequently their re-presentation into con- sciousness as conceptions, may be either clear and distinct, or obscure and indistinct, for reasons which have been detailed in the foregoing. I have yet to mention another factor, which has likewise an important bearing in this matter, and that is the quantum of external stimuli in relation to the percipient forces. If, for example, I see an object in obscure light, or hear a sound which is faint, or smell an odor that is indistinct, I shall not gain a clear perception of the object, the sound or the odor. The quantum of external stimuli offered is too small, too scanty, for the recipient forces. The forces are not properly filled out by them, their capacity is not sufficiently engaged, and such a process always occasions a feeling of non-satisfaction. The case is entirely different if I see the same object in full daylight, hear the same sound with a proper degree of loud- ness, smell the same odor in all its vigor. I will gain a clear perception of such an object, because the quantum of external stimuli offered is just adapted to the recipient forces; the forces are properly filled out by them; their ca- 30 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. pacity is fully engaged ; and in all such cases we have a feeling of satisfaction. There are still other quantitative relations of external stimuli to the primitive forces, of which I shall speak in 25. For our present purpose it is sufficient to state the above-mentioned relations. We learn that in order to gain a clear perception it is necessary that the quantum of external stim- uli should be adequate to the capacity of the recipient forces. Too small a quantum produces, at best, only obscure and indis- tinct modifications. Summing up the facts detailed in the foregoing para- graphs, showing the conditions necessary for the development of clear perceptions and consequently clear conceptions (or, in other words, of clear conscious acts in the human mind), we find those facts resolvable into the following propo- sitions : 1. The primitive forces must be endowed with a sufficient degree of energy to maintain the development they have acquired from the stimuli received (7). 2. Similar impressions must unite with similar already-formed vestiges to constitute a homogeneous aggregate (9, 10) ; and, 3. The stimuli must be of a sufficient quantum in relation to the recipient forces. 12. Perpetual Alternation between Consciousness and Unconsciousness. Each moment of our lives bears testimony to the fact that we are conscious of but a limited and comparatively small number of acquired mental modifications at one time ; while the others, how great soever our possessions, rest in perfect unconsciousness. For example, while we are pon- dering over the present subject, the conceptions and ideas appertaining to it fall readily into consciousness ; but we are entirely unconscious of what may have agitated our mind yes- terday; and what is now present in our thoughts may yield the next moment to some other ideas. In short, we observe a constant appearance and disappearance of mental modifications. An attentive reader will observe that we are now viewing CONSCIOUSNESS AND UNCONSCIOUSNESS. 31 consciousness from a new standpoint. The question is no longer how does consciousness originate, but how does this constant alternation or change between consciousness and un- consciousness come to pass ? In this sense, therefore, con- sciousness signifies merely a condition of mental aggregates already acquired, a condition in which these aggregates either appear as conscious modifications or disappear into latency or delitescence. The question, therefore, is : By what means do vestiges assume a conscious condition ; and, on the other hand, by what means do conscious modifications retire into delites- cence ? The old answer to these questions is : " Ideas awake and go to sleep," leaving us where we were before, because this answer does not tell why they awake, and why they go to sleep. It is a curious fact that these important questions have never been made problems ( before Beneke) ; and we find, there- fore, that the older psychologists do not make an attempt to solve them. Everybody seemed satisfied with this figurative answer. Beneke was the first who investigated the nature of consciousness and its varying states, and Hamilton makes at a later time an attempt to clear up these problems (Lect- ure xxx., p. 416). First question : By what means do vestiges assume a con- scious condition ? Consciousness originates out of repeated actions of similar external stimuli upon corresponding primitive forces. To the first vestige, which originates in consequence of the first modi- fication of primitive forces by the action of corresponding exter- nal stimuli, a second perception adds a new vestige. Every fol- lowing perception combines with the previously attained similar vestiges, and adds a new element of consciousness, until at last the aggregate becomes a clear, conscious, mental act. It follows, then, that each new stimulus, by acting upon a free primitive force and converting it into a specific modifi- cation, brings, at the same time, all the like vestiges previ- ously acquired into a similar state of excitation as they had during their original formation, and which the new perception now possesses. It is a parallel process to that of the string of 32 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. a musical instrument, which, on being set vibrating, causes other strings to vibrate if they are of the same tension. Consciousness, then, in this sense is an excitation, a motion of the aggregated vestiges by new similar stimuli, which on account of their similarity impart their own motion to all of them. Of this process we are reminded every moment. A moment since, I was surely not thinking of a cart; but its rumbling on the street on passing by at once arouses in me the consciousness of it. If we see a thing we cannot help being conscious of it, and if it is an object which w T e never saw before, it at once strikes us as something new because its stimuli find no vestiges of a similar development to which they could impart their own specific motion. There is no doubt that resuscitation into consciousness is caused by the action of fresh stimuli. As the}'' excite their similar vestiges they cause an excitation of the aggregate. This is one way, but not the only way, in which latent mental modifica- tions become resuscitated into consciousness. Compare 13. Second question : By what means do conscious modifications retire into delitescence ? We shall find, as is universally true, that there is no effect without a cause. Where there is motion, there must be moving elements; and if these elements cease to be, motion necessarily ceases. If, therefore, consciousness in its transient state consists in motion or excitation of aggregates already formed, it is clear that this motion must cease so soon as the exciting elements cease. The excitement leaves, and the aggregate, just aroused, becomes motionless, id est, unconscious. 13. Second Manner in which Consciousness is resuscitated and again ceases to be consciousness. (a) I may sit alone in darkness and silence and yet be full of ideas crowding one upon another. Without wishing it, per- haps against my will, the whole past of my life may unfold like a panorama before my internal vision, or I may hear dear voices, melodies, or what else may happen to be recollected, or I may be busily engaged in thoughts of the future, full of SECOND MANNER IN WHICH CONSCIOUSNESS IS RESUSCITATED. 33 hope or fear, and all this without any external excitants or any intention of my own. (b) But I may also wish to remember things past, things seen or heard, etc., and they also, in a majority of cases, will represent themselves to my internal view. We are able, in most cases, to recollect what we wish to recollect, and all this without the presence of corresponding external stimuli. This clearly shows that latent modifications can be resuscitated into consciousness by something else than the external stimuli of which we spoke in the foregoing paragraph. What is it? If consciousness in- its transient state is excitation of formed aggregates, if excitation or motion cannot take place without moving elements, and if, as shown in the above instances, the excitants do not come from without, it follows that we must look for moving elements within the mind itself. We know of nothing here but (1) primitive forces (3) and (2) objectively developed primitive forces or vestiges (6). As vestiges are the objects to be moved, there remain for our consideration only primitive forces. The power of movement is invariably possessed by bio- plasm. The rootlets of the plant extend themselves into the soil because the living matter at their extremities moves onward from the point already reached. The tree grows upward against gravity by virtue of the same living power of bioplasm. In every bud portions of this living matter tend to move away from the spot where they were produced, and stretch upward or onward in advance. No tissue of any liv- ing animal could be formed unless the portions of bioplasm moved away from one another., Portions of the bioplasm move and place themselves beyond the point already gained. The above are vital movements. (Bioplasm, by Lionel S. Beale, p. 35). Of a still higher order than bodily bioplasm are the primi- tive forces of the soul. They possess this power of spontaneous mobility in a far superior degree. They are capable of flowing from one fixed modification to another, imparting their own motion to the same, and thus causing a renewed excitation of already-formed or fixed modifications . In other words, their 34 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. action upon fixed modifications brings to consciousness what existed in a latent state, and their withdrawal lets the modi- fications back again into delitescence. However, the primitive forces which thus cause from within the resuscitation into consciousness of fixed mental modifica- tions are not all free primitive forces, untainted (if I may use this expression) by external stimuli. For experience teaches that external stimuli are constantly pouring through all the gateways of our sense organs upon the primitive forces without always causing a specific modification of the same, We may for hours hear the tick of a clock and not have any distinct perception of it. We may for hours sit surrounded by light and not notice it or the things about us in particular. These objects, however, make continual impressions upon our senses; for if the clock suddenly stops, or a cloud suddenly obscures the sky, we at once become conscious of the impres- sions occasioned by them. Thus our primitive forces do not all and always assume a definite form when they are acted upon by external stimuli; they are merely partially affected, "tainted," so to speak, in a general way, by the more general stimuli of light or sound, etc. They thus retain more or less their original character, although somewhat modified, and cor- respondingly to the nature of the external stimuli by which they have been acted upon. They stand between the fixed forms of perfect vestiges and the original forces. As such they partake of the properties of both. Not being developed in a permanent manner as perfect vestiges, they still retain their mobility, while on the other hand, having undergone a gene- ral, yet indefinite, undefined change, corresponding to the general character of the different classes of external stimuli, they also partake of the nature of external stimuli, and, being more or less similar to the modifications already formed, they flow to them and excite them into consciousness very much in the manner as external stimuli do. Thus we can easily under- stand why a lively conscious excitation (compare the series of instances given under a) may be going on without the pres- ence of external stimuli. This excitation is involuntary, for the partially changed primitive forces are more or less at- SECOND MANNER IN WHICH CONSCIOUSNESS IS RESUSCITATED. 35 tracted by the more or less similar modifications already existing. It is different with the primitive forces yet unchanged by the influence of any external stimuli. They, possessing the inherent power of spontaneous mobility, being living soul themselves, are not merely attracted by fixed modifications, but move of themselves and constitute the basis of will- power, as will be shown hereafter. The excitation into consciousness by them is voluntary. Beside what has been stated under b), this may be exemplified by the following: I am deeply engaged in solving a problem, I will its solution, and I call up all the latent treasures of my mind, id est, I re- suscitate into consciousness whatever may in any way help the solution of the present problem. All external influences, I find, interrupt the flow of my thoughts. The less I am dis- turbed, the better I succeed. My activity, therefore, is entirely internal. Thus I work on for hours. Finally, the flow of thoughts becomes slower; I feel tired. The problem is not yet solved, but I fall asleep. Next morning, on awaking, I find my first thoughts turning to the object of yesterday's re- search. Again, with renewed vigor, I bring all the neces- sary items into consciousness, and in a short time, perhaps, succeed in finishing my task, showing that that which became exhausted after several hours of intense thinking yesterday, must have been replenished during the night's rest. This could not have been external stimuli, because I slept all night. It must have been those primitive forces by which I was enabled to excite into consciousness all the various ideas necessary for the successful handling of my problem. Thus we find that resuscitation of latent agencies into conscious- ness may be effected' by purely internal means, namely : 1. By those primitive forces only generally modified by external stimuli, which retain their original mobile character, and having acquired greater or less similarity with formed ves- tiges, cause involuntary excitation into consciousness ; and, 2. By primitive forces not at all objectively developed, w T hich originate during sleep, and, being of an active, living nature, correspond to the will, cause voluntary excitation into consciousness. 36 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. Both these kinds of internal excitants may properly be called mobile elements, because they have not yet developed into fixed forms. They still possess the power of motion, and give an impulse to one or the other of the formed aggre- gates. We may also call them elements of consciousness, because they are the internal agents by which the latent modifications become agitated, id est, made conscious. Their action does not warrant an invariable certainty in making conscious what we want. Sometimes the greatest effort will not enable us to recall what we would like to remember, although there is no want of either kind of these elements. External stimuli, on the contrary, excite their similar vestiges into consciousness with unerring certainty, because they can impart their motion only to such vestiges as have been formed by a like excitation. All other stimuli remain unaffected, just as the many strings of an instrument are unaffected by a special tone if they are not tuned in accord with that tone. When by these means latent agencies are resuscitated into consciousness, we say also, they are reproduced, and we call them reproductions. By this term, accordingly, we do not mean that they originate anew, nor even that their con- sciousness is produced anew, but merely that they, as already formed aggregates with inherent strength of con- sciousness (which consists in their multiple vestiges), are brought out of a state of tranquillity into a state of excitation. They lose this state of excitation, and again fall into a state of delitescence so soon as mobile elements cease to excite them. Thus, the flood of our thoughts, coming and going, moves on, even in dreams, in accordance with unchangeable laws, laws of which we shall speak more fully in our further investigations. 14. Vivacity of the Primitive Forces, and its Influence upon the Process of Transient Consciousness. Suppose a sheet of paper with a number of pictures on it be quickly passed before the eyes of a number of persons. VIVACITY OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 37 On inquiring afterward of the several persons how many of the different pictures they have recognized, we will, no doubt, receive different answers. Some may be able to name several of them, while others, perhaps, will confess that they have not recognized any with certainty. It seems, then, that some per- sons see quicker than others. We observe the same phenomenon if we pay attention to persons while they are reading. Some require a long time to read a page, while others peruse it very quickly. It would seem, however, that we perceive external stimuli quickest by the sense of hearing, when we consider with what rapidity we are able to catch the various sounds, syllables and words of a fast speaker, or the single notes of a lively piece of music. But in this respect, also, there is a dif- ference among different persons. Some hear more quickly than others. In general, however, it may be stated that the sense of hearing is the quickest of all the human senses. The sense of touch, and in connection with it the muscu- lar sense (1), likewise exhibit great rapidity in their actions, as is shown by the dexterity and rapidity with which some persons are able to handle different instruments, such as the violin, the piano, the pen, the needle, etc., or in talking and singing, the organs of the voice ; in wrestling, running and dancing, the organs of motion. But not so easily are we able to distinguish different flavors and savors if they follow each other in rapid succession. The sense of general feeling is also of a much slower nature. We thus find that besides acuteness (5) and energy (7), there is still another quality inherent in our primitive forces, that of greater or lesser quickness or vivacity in their action. This quality manifests itself in all the doings of man. One appears in constant, restless motion ; it is hard for him to sit still half an hour. Quickly he perceives what enters through eyes and ears, and as quickly he changes in his emotions, feelings and thoughts. What he has learned is always ready at hand, and he brings it forth with astonishing celerity. Another takes the world much more easily; he observes, talks, and acts quietly. While still others seem to lack quickness to such a degree that their motions become slow and heavy, 38 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. their thoughts after-thoughts, and they appear dull and stupid, although they may not be ignorant of the subject in hand. Dulness of mind and ignorance are, therefore, two entirely different things. The first is a want of quickness; the latter a want of acquired knowledge. They are often found together. In view of all this, we come to the conclusion that a higher degree of quickness or vivacity of the primitive forces causes, not only a more rapid apprehension of external stimuli, but also a more rapid change of transient consciousness, a quicker and livelier mutability of latent agencies into conscious ones, and vice versa. In short, a livelier activity of the mind throughout. These three qualities of the primitive forces — acuteness, energy and quick- ness — constitute the fundamental character of every living soul. In them the child possesses from birth an inheritance which stamps upon each and every mental development that may follow afterward a subjective character. We find, therefore, among the millions of human beings no two who are exactly alike, even if they have originated from the same parents, and haA T e been brought up under the same ex- ternal influences and conditions. The reason is, there are no two living souls in whom all the primitive forces are endowed with the same degree of acuteness, energy and quickness. According to the degree of acuteness, the mind receives more or less finely shaded perceptions ; a higher or lower degree of energy causes more or less perfect vestiges (8), and the degree of quickness determines the degree of activity of the mind throughout. The entire objective development of the mind by means of external stimuli receives, even to its very elements, an indelible character from the inherent qualities of the primitive forces ; and, although at first this subjective character may scarcely be perceptible, it must grow in the course of development, as with the multiplication of vestiges it likewise multiplies ad infinitum. The human soul at birth cannot, therefore, be properly com- pared to a " tabula rasa." It does not receive passively what the outer world writes upon it. On the contrary, the subjective qualities of its primitive forces stamp at once their character upon all that is received, and thus, although at birth the soul ORIGIN OF CONCEPTS — ABSTRACTION. 39 is yet vacant as regards objective modifications, it is neverthe- less subjectively a perfect individuality in regard to the nature of its primitive forces — their own subjective peculiarity as to acuteness, energy, and quickness. This peculiarity of the primitive forces remains the same through life. Whatever originates in the soul is dyed in this peculiarity, and thus it is that even all objective products (which ought to be alike every- where) nevertheless assume, as they grow in different persons, a more and more subjective character, completely corresponding to the higher or lower degrees of acuteness, energy, and quick- ness of the primitive forces of the individual. 15. Origin of Concepts — Abstraction. There remains in the soul a vestige of all that we perceive with sufficient clearness (6); and all similar vestiges unite into one aggregate (9). In consequence of this originate all our conceptions of external objects, and in the course of time we acquire a large number of them (10). Now it will often happen that several of such aggregates are resuscitated into consciousness simultaneously, or at least in quick succession. For example, when walking through fields we may see hick- ory, beech, chestnut, walnut, oak and maple trees standing by the road. These present perceptions excite their similar ves- tiges, and we have a full consciousness of all these various ob- jects at the same time. What will be the consequence ? The same that always takes place when similar aggregates awake simultaneously into consciousness, namely : What is common to all, their similar or like constituents fuse again into a closer union because of the attraction of like to like (9). The similar in our illustrative case is trunk, branches, twigs, roots. Furthermore, w r e know that the resuscitation of mental ag- gregates into consciousness requires mobile elements, and that according to their afflux or withdrawal consciousness increases or fades (13). It is further a law of the mind (of which I shall speak more fully hereafter) that the largest quantity of mo- bile elements, is attracted by such aggregates as consist in them- selves of the most similar vestiges, and which, for this reason, 40 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. arc so much more intimately and firmly united. It is, there- fore, of necessity that the present perceptions of the similar constituents (trunks, branches, etc.) attract a larger amount of the exciting elements than their dissimilar constituents (color, light, circumference, etc.). Nor is this all. Our consciousness of an object is the clearer, the greater the number of its similar vestiges that become excited with the present perception (10). If now in the six perceptions (hickories, beeches, etc.) we perceive what they have in common six times, and all other peculiarities only once, it is clear that the six-fold perception must gain a stronger consciousness than that which exists only once in each individual object. Hence it is that the perceptions — trunk, branches, twigs, roots — occupy the foreground of our consciousness, while the single properties of each necessarily recedeout of it. Thus we obtain a new aggregate, which we designate by the word tree, and which consists of only the similar constituents of the different sensorial apprehensions or perceptions, excluding all the particulars of each of the single objects. Such an aggregate is called in German Begriff, meaning a something that has been grasped together, corresponding, there- fore, nearest to the Anglo-Latin term concept, and we under- stand by it a general idea or conception (in the sense alluded to in 10), which is applicable to the whole class of apprehen- sions or perceptions of similar objects from which it was formed ; whereas & perception is applicable only to the one single object of which it is the product. This process of forming concepts has been styled abstraction, because consciousness is abstracted from the dissimilar ele- ments of a given number of otherwise similar perceptions. It therefore denotes only a part — and that a secondary one — of the process which in fact consists, as we have seen, in the very opposite of abstraction, that is, in a combination and concentration of the similar elements of different perceptions into one. This has been felt by a number of psychological writers, but by none has this process been so accurately denned as by Beneke. Still the term "abstraction, abstract idea," may pass very well, if we only understand it rightly, and I shall use it whenever it fits the occasion, in the above denned sense. ORIGIN OF CONCEPTS ABSTRACTION. 41 A concept, or abstraction, is, therefore, the combination of the similar elements of different perceptions into one act of conscious- ness. This new combination remains as a vestige, and thus we gain by degrees from single concrete perceptions, con- cepts of whole classes of individual objects. The necessary requirements for their formation are the two following con- ditions: First, we must possess the single concrete perceptions. As im- possible as it is for a blind man to form an idea of color, or a deaf one of sound, is it for us at any time to form a real idea of any series of things, without having first the con- crete perceptions of the various corresponding objects. Lan- guage frequently deceives us on this point. Children may have acquired the use of words which signify certain ideas, so that it sounds as though they had the concepts themselves, while in reality they use only words. How frequently do we observe the same vague use of language in grown per- sons ! Their endless quarrels about words show exactly that often neither party has a real idea of what that word signifies, because they lack in the primitive perceptions, by which alone the idea embodied in the word could gain a substantial exist- ence. We remain ignorant of the concept " crystal " so long as we have not seen crystals of different varieties ; just as people a hundred years ago had no idea of a steam-engine. This simple fact is fraught with great importance for every teacher, who ought to bear in mind that, by causing his pupils to commit to memory technical terms and phrases, he may succeed in making them talk in such terms and phrases, but will never succeed in giving them substantial ideas, unless he causes them to make the several concrete perceptions, out of which alone ideas can originate. By this a rational teacher is distinguished from a mere memory-trainer. Secondly, the several concrete 'perceptions must be excited into consciousness at the same time, because in this way only can like meet like and combine in a new union. A child may have seen at different times a snail, a frog, a lizard, a turtle, etc., yet it is by the effort of the teacher to excite simultaneously into consciousness and to combine their similar constituents 4 42 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. into one conscious act, that the child receives an actual con- cept of a reptile. 16. Gradation of Concepts — Classification — General- ization. In the last section I have remarked how easily we might be misled by taking a word for an actual concept. " The words," says J. Haven, in his Mental Philosophy, p. 167, " which constitute by far the greater part of the names of things are common nouns, that is, names of classes. The names of individual objects are comparatively few. Adjec- tives, specifying the qualities of objects, denote groups or classes possessing that common quality. Adverbs, qualifying verbs or adjectives, designate varieties or classes of action and of quality. Indeed, the very existence of language as a medium of communication and means of expression involves and depends upon this tendency of the mind to class together, and then to designate by a common noun, objects, diverse in reality, but agreeing in some prominent points of resem- blance." Words, then, are nothing but names ; and the con- cept exists in reality only in the mind, and exists there only in so far as we have acquired the several concrete perceptions, the similar of which fuses into a new aggregate during their simultaneous presence in consciousness. Think of a collection of coats, vests, jackets, pantaloons, boots, shoes, stockings, gloves, hats, caps, etc. Now, no mat- ter how different these things may appear in form, size, color, or material, they all serve one purpose — protection of the body — and this being common to all these objects, it at once manifests itself as the strongest in consciousness, and we obtain the con- cept " clothing" which concept savages do not possess — at least not to the same extent. Take the perceptions poker, brush, broom, basket, tub, pan, kettle, pot, plate, dish — things greatly differing from each other, yet all being used in the kitchen — they fuse, during their simultaneous presence in consciousness, by this very resem- blance into one conscious act and thus form a new concept, " kitchen utensils" GRADATION OF CONCEPTS. 43 Or, observe house, barn, stable, shanty, theatre, church, college, castle, capitol, etc., and there will project into clearer consciousness, because common to all, the fact that these objects have been built for certain purposes, and thus we gain the con- cept "building" Now, let us excite into consciousness simultaneously these newly-gained concepts — clothing, kitchen utensils, building. They all unite in this particular: They are made by the hands of men, are the product of art, in its widest sense, and give a new and higher concept than any before ; and, if we contemplate this concept, together with all that nature pro- duces of a measurable character, we obtain the still higher concept " body" until finally, in uniting with it also what is not measurable, we arrive at the summit of our ascent in the concept of " being " or " existence." It is scarcely necessary to remark that in reality the acquisi- tion of these concepts does not go so fast as the above illustra- tions seem to imply, for the simple reason, already stated, that a concept is the product of the similar of the several concrete perceptions which must first be acquired. But it was not the object of these illustrations to show how fast concepts grow, but how they originate ; and thus I may sum up the results of our investigations as follows : Concepts originate in the human mind in consequence of the attraction of like to like, in this way : The similar of the several concrete perceptions fuse into a new aggregate, which constitutes the concept, and as concepts so formed have also points in common, these similarities again unite into new aggregates, and thus originate higher and higher concepts. The only condition necessary for this development is the simul- taneous presence of the concrete perceptions or respectively lower concepts in consciousness, long enough, and persistent enough, to produce a thorough attraction of like to like. Thus we come to a gradation of concepts, or classification of all that exists and is perceived by means of the senses or mentally, into genera and species, with all the various sub- divisions ; a process of mind by which alone order is estab- lished among the millions of objects which the outer world, as well as the interior working of the mind, incongruously 44 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. presents to man ; a process without which no science could be possible, and which itself rests upon the simple law of the attraction of like to like. This process is also called generalization. Our personal observation is always a limited one. We cannot observe all the trees, all the houses, all the animals, etc., in order to combine, out of the perception of all, their similars into one concept. That would be wholly impossible. A limited num- ber of perceptions generally suffices to elucidate their common character, and to yield the aggregate of their similarity into a concept, and we then extend this concept to all the simi- lar objects. In short, we generalize. The truthfulness of such generalization depends entirely upon the correctness with which we conclude in what respect diverse objects are really similar ; that is, in forming a correct concept. This, if per- fectly correct, will surely fit to all the individuals of the same class, and we may with safety generalize, that is, extend the group of similars, of which the concept consists, to all other individuals of the same class. Whether we have perceived them or not, or whether we ever shall perceive them, is a mat- ter of no consequence. Nature is always true to herself. If we now consider the various concepts in regard to their nature as lower and higher concepts, we shall have to direct our attention to two points, viz. : Their content or intension and their sphere or extension. The content of a concept is always what it consists of, the similarities of diverse objects united into one aggregate. The content of a concept is, there- fore, the identical concept itself — nothing more nor less. The concept "tree" consists of "trunk, branches, twigs, roots," as the similarity of all perceptions of various individuals, com- bined during a simultaneous consciousness into one aggre- gate. This is the content or intension of the concept " tree." The content of the concept " being or existence " is the very least that we can say of anything, namely, that it exists. The higher the concept, therefore, the fewer will be the attri- butes which constitute it, while the lower concepts must necessarily embrace a greater complement of attributes to make up its content. We might express this also in this GRADATION OF CONCEPTS. 45 manner : The content of a concept diminishes in the same degree as the concept rises higher in the scale of classification, and vice versa. Altogether different is the sphere or extension of a concept, which consists of all the individual perceptions or concepts, oat of the simile of which the concept was formed. The con- cept "tree" contains in its sphere all the individual trees that exist, while the notion "being" is applicable to all its divisions and subdivisions, down to the very concrete per- ceptions, out of the simile of which the lowest concepts and their gradation up to the highest concept, " being, or exist- ence," originated. It is evident, therefore, that the sphere of a concept increases as it rises higher in the scale of classification, and vice versa. This sphere of a concept, when it is meant wholly, is usually expressed in language by the words " all or each " (all men, all soldiers, etc.) ; when meant partially, by the word "some" (some men, some soldiers, etc.). There is one point more which should be considered when we speak of the gradation of concepts. It is the ques- tion : Can higher concepts ever originate previous to lower concepts ? As the higher concept is the combination of all the similarities which the lower concepts present, we would naturally suppose that this question would be answered in the negative. But experience teaches altogether differently. We find that children have acquired the concept of " bird " " much sooner than that of "lark;" the concept of "tree" much sooner than that of " maple," or " linden," etc., because the more general concept consists of fewer attributes, which are more quickly acquired, and very often not even correctly acquired, so that in the mind of a child " bird " is all that flies, insects, as well as bats and kites. A clearly defined con- cept, whether high or low, always requires for its perfection a clear and steady coexistence in consciousness of the concrete perceptions, out of which a thorough union of their real simile alone can be effectuated. We may assert, then, that such anticipated higher concepts, although they are frequently conceived, are nevertheless premature, and, therefore, im- perfect concepts, and their existence alters nothing in the 46 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. normal gradation of concepts, according to which the higher must necessarily arise out of the lower. In regard to the influence of the innate qualities of our primitive forces, it is evident that a greater amount of energy and acuteness must bring forth greater clearness and greater correctness to all our concepts, showing the reason of the existing differences in this respect between the different human beings, and the insurmountable difference between man and beast. "The brute knows one thing at a time, and that one thing goes from his mind as it comes — a solitary, uninstructive fact. But man, in learning that one thing, learns all things of the same genus in the universe, and all these, too, in their relations to other genera and to the uni- versal system." — Winslow, Elements of Philosophy, p. 255. 17. The Intellect — The Understanding. The concepts hitherto considered always arise ultimately from primitive perceptions or sensorial apprehensions, and as perceptions are the product of the action of external stimuli upon corresponding primitive forces (4), of course concepts must be traced to the same origin, with the exception of those dissimilar elements which belong to each single perception individually, because concepts are the aggregates of only the similar attributes of different objects. Concepts are identical with perceptions only so far as the similarity between different perceptions reaches, and their peculiarity consists in the con- centration of all the similar, out of a variety, into one con- scious act. Concepts consist, then, of a portion of the same vestiges of which perceptions consist, and they must last, therefore, as long as their vestiges last, remaining as latent agencies, which may be excited into consciousness in the manner described in 12 and 13. As in the progress of life we are continually adding new acquisitions, our store of perceptions, concepts, and higher ideas, is continually on the increase, and so much the more as we intentionally and diligently look around and compare what we have been observing. Now, the question THE INTELLECT. 47 arises : What do we gain by the acquisition of concepts? The answer lies in the very nature of these concepts. As they are the union of the similar of many perceptions, they must present this simile in a much greater clearness of conscious- ness than each single perception, because the clearness of con- sciousness grows with the multiplication of similar vestiges. (Compare 10 and 15). Concepts are, therefore, mental modi- fications, possessing a greater clearness of consciousness than any other mental modification, because in their very nature they consist of what alone causes consciousness — a union or fusion of many similar elements (10). They are, therefore, the very light of the soul. Only so far as w T e have acquired con- cepts, we understand, and we can follow a discourse intelligently only so far as we possess the concepts of which that discourse treats. A popular lecturer must speak altogether differently from a scientific one, and we need not wonder if we find that to a musician mathematics are Spanish provinces, or that an astronomer may not be able to distinguish rye from wheat. In short, our understanding or intellect reaches just so far, and no farther, than the concepts which we have acquired reach. There is an old proverb that teaches the same idea: Ne sutor ultra crepidam. We may say, in short, the intellect, the understanding, consists essentially of the sum of the concepts which have been acquired during the process of mental development by each individual. This brings us certainly in opposition to the common view, according to which the intellect makes the concepts. We have sufficiently shown how concepts originate, so that we need not refute now a supposed faculty to make them. Before the first concepts have originated there is no understanding, and only in the degree in which concepts are acquired, does the understanding grow, in the child generally, as well as in arts and sciences particularly. All must be learned from the beginning, id est, must be by single perceptions gradually acquired and sublimated into the necessary concepts before we can gain any understanding of anything whatsoever. The only necessary conditions for this development are, primitive forces endowed with sufficient energy, and the law of attrac- tion of like to like. 48 the intellectual sphere of the mind. 18. Judging — Judgment. Concepts once acquired remain as vestiges ready for future use. I see before me coal, tar and ink, and I say these things are black. To the present perceptions rises the concept "black." I see an emerald and I say it is green. Another concept, therefore, joins this perception. I hear a clock strike and I may say the clock sounds. Thus, if we perceive a thing, there almost always rises a concept into consciousness, joining the thing perceived. To the subject is added a predicate. We did not feel inclined to say coal is green, emerald is black, the clock flies. Why did not such concepts join our perceptions ? Because, as we have seen in 9, only the like and similar attract one another and unite. The first perceptions do not lie in the sphere of the latter concepts, and cannot, therefore, excite them into consciousness. A clearer statement of the above might, therefore, be made by saying : If we perceive a thing, only such concepts rise into consciousness as have been formed from the similar of many such perceptions. Furthermore, if the similar of the concepts black, red, green, blue, gray, violet, etc., again unite into one conscious act, we obtain the higher concept " color." I can say now, red, green, etc., are colors, showing also that a concept of a lower order is frequently joined by a similar higher concept. When this takes place, namely: (1) When either the simple perception is joined by a like concept, or (2), when a concept is joined by a similar higher concept, we then say : The mind judges. Judging, or judgment, consists, therefore, of nothing more than a simultaneous consciousness of a perception with a cor- responding concept, or a concept with a similar higher con- cept ; or, in other words, of a union of a subject with a corre- sponding predicate, the latter, by its sphere, entirely covering the former, because it is the sum of all the similar of many such perceptions or lower concepts. We have, then, in an act of judging nothing but the same vestiges we have acquired by our original perceptions, and which, by a union of their similars, have become subli- mated into concepts and higher concepts. INFLUENCES DURING AN ACT OF JUDGING. 49 The simultaneous presence in consciousness of subject and predicate causes a determinate junction between them (com- pare 38) ; and thus a judgment, once formed, must endure so long as this connection is not dissolved. It remains like all other mental modifications, as a latency, ready to be called into consciousness at any future time. In this way we gradually gather a great number of judgments, and if we understand by the faculty of judging this sum of judgments acquired in the course of time, we have not much to say against it. But, if it is to mean a special power of the mind, by which each act of judging is produced, we hope to have sufficiently shown that there is no such special power, but that these acts of judging are but the necessary consequence of the mind's law — the attraction of like to like. 19. Reciprocal Influence of the Concept and Percep- tion upon each Other During an Act of Judging. If, as we have seen, in an act of judging, nothing but similar vestiges previously acquired are added to the present percep- tion, the question arises : What influence has this simul- taneous consciousness of the two constituents of a judgment (subject and predicate) upon each other? We know from what we have seen in 17 that the predicate, being a concept or a higher concept, contains the similar in a multiplied con- centration. It will add, therefore, clearness to the subject, which contains this similar only singly. It illuminates the sub- ject, so to speak. Suppose I have a clear concept of the natural family Ranunculacese, and I see for the first time a Pulsatilla plant. It is very likely that the perception of this plant ex- cites into consciousness the concept of the Ranunculaceae, and if so, I would judge this plant, although new to me, is a Ranun- culacese. At once I look with altogether different eyes upon it than I would if I had not this concept. It ceases to look en- tirely strange to me. It presents quite a good many features I have observed previously in other plants. In short, the concept " Ranunculaceae " makes this new perception clearer illuminates it, because it adds the multiplied vestiges of similar previous perceptions. 50 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. And what does the subject ? It adds new, fresh elements to the predicate, as the above example likewise shows. My concept of the Ranunculaceae had been formed without this variety, of which the present perception is a specimen. There it is to be seen in all its peculiarity, and I find that by observ- ing and looking at it my concept of the Ranunculaceae gains. It becomes enriched, invigorated, grows fresher again, so to speak. The influence of the simultaneous presence in conscious- ness of subject and predicate during an act of judging is therefore reciprocal, and a very marked one, namely : The subject (present perception or conception) is rendered clearer, be- comes illuminated, while the predicate (the concept) is enriched, livened up by new and fresh elements which only perception or sen- sorial apprehension can afford. The act of judging, then, although it adds nothing new, nevertheless is of the greatest importance both to the subject as well as to the predicate. The former gains in clearness, the latter in freshness. 20. Inferences — Syllogisms. It often happens that more than one judgment is excited into consciousness at the same time. For example: All human beings are mortal ; the negro is a human being. We have in these two judgments, three concepts presenting themselves side by side: Human being, mortal, negro. In the first judg- ment we find the concept " mortal " applied to all human beings, therefore to the whole sphere of this concept. The second judgment determines the " negro " as belonging to this sphere. What now will be the consequence of the simultaneous consciousness of these three concepts ? Human being and negro are two entirely similar concepts, the negro presenting merely a species of the whole human race. They w r ill, therefore, fuse together in consciousness; and as the concept " negro " is expressly lifted into the foreground, con- sciousness will concentrate upon it, while its fellow-concept fades away by the expressly emphasized concept " negro " of INFERENCES SYLLOGISMS. 51 the second judgment, and now there is for the still remain- ing, but dissimilar concept of the first judgment, "mortal," nothing left but to join the full conscious concept " negro," which fact we express in a new judgment as a conclusion out of the two judgments : "(therefore) the negro is mortal" If in two judgments the similar concepts are wanting, there can never originate any new judgment or conclusion, although they may present themselves side by side in consciousness. For example : The bird flies ; the lizard is a reptile. Here all the concepts lie in different spheres. A fusion into one is im- possible, just as impossible as in the judgments : Iron is hard and honey is sweet. Such judgments can never unite into one, can never give rise to a new judgment, a conclusion or inference ; but must always stand asunder. But if two judgments which contain similar concepts, together with one that is dissimilar, are roused simultaneously into con- sciousness, then the similar concepts fuse together, and there originates a new judgment, because the dissimilar concept joins now that of the similar concepts which has been expressly lifted in the foreground of our consciousness. Such a process is designated in common by the word reasoning, an expression rather loosely defined as yet in books. The whole process is technically called a syllogism, or an infer- ence, and consists of three judgments. The first two are called the premises (of which the first is the major and the second the minor proposition), and the third, which follows, is the conclu- sion. One of the premises is always destined to mark out that concept on which stress is to be laid in the formation of the new judgment. Most generally is this done by the minor premise, but it may likewise be done by the major. In fact nothing depends upon the position of the several judgments, as the following may show : Some animals are birds ; all birds lay eggs ; consequently some animals lay eggs. Here the minor premise stands before the major (instead: All birds lay eggs ; some animals are birds). Nevertheless the conclusion follows legitimately because the position has nothing to do with the attraction of like to like, which exerts itself in any posi- 52 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. tion. A syllogism, as the foregoing clearly shows, is a combi- nation of judgments which results in the formation of a new judgment because of the similarity of their concepts, which, by the law of attraction of like to like, fuse together in con- ciousness, and thus give rise to the conclusion. It is, then, a mental act which takes place naturally, necessarily, without any provocation or effort on our part. Just exactly as concepts are formed from a combination of the similar of various per- ceptions, or as judgments are formed by the joining of similar concepts to perceptions, so judgments also combine into a con- clusion if they contain similar concepts capable of fusing together in consciousness. It is always the same law of attraction of like to like which originates these processes, and the assumption of the necessity of special faculties or powers to create such actions is neither necessary nor even allowable in accurate discrimination. Conclusions, once drawn, remain as vestiges, like all other mental modifica- tions, ready for future use. But we almost always apply conclusions in an abridged form, as for example : Like all human beings, the negro is mortal. To this abridged form we may even count the negative judgments, if they are not a mere grammatical quid pro quo, such as : This is not a difficult task = is a light task. He is not diligent = he is lazy. The real negative judgments are abridged syllogisms. For example : The bat is no bird. This would read in full : The bat bears young alive ; the bird never bears young alive, but lays eggs. Consequently the bat is no bird. 21. Additional Remarks on Judgment and Inferences. Often when we judge or infer we make use of those judg- ments and conclusions already stored up in our minds as latent agencies. They are merely resuscitated into conscious- ness. For this purpose we need the mobile elements of con- sciousness of which we have spoken in 12 and 13. Whenever the mobile elements unite, either from without or from within, with a part of such a judgment or syllogism, this part is ex- ADDITIONAL REMARKS ON JUDGMENTS AND INFERENCES. 53 cited into consciousness, and being closely combined with the rest, the whole act of judging or inferring is re-established in consciousness. (Compare 39.) Moreover, new judgments and inferences are easily formed, and necessarily so, when our concepts join with new per- ceptions, or our judgments of similar concepts combine to form new conclusions. In all cases it is only necessary that the different constituents of either a judgment or an infer- ence should be excited simultaneously into consciousness. The attraction of like to like cannot take place without this condition. Thus we may say that, in order to form judg- ments or inferences, it is necessary that the constituents of these acts should become simultaneously excited into consciousness; that, consequently, there must be present mobile elements which alone can cause such excitation. These mobile elements consist, as we have seen, of external stimuli, or partially modified primitive forces ; or, primitive forces which never have been modified by external stimuli. The first two kinds cause an involuntary, the latter a voluntary excitation into consciousness. (Com- pare 13.) But there is still another quite necessary condition for the formation of judgments and inferences — the innate quickness of our primitive forces. We have seen, in 14, how this quality of the primitive forces imprints its character upon all mental actions. Without the necessary quickness it would be of little use to have the clearest and best concepts. If concepts do not become conscious at the right time, we might just as well not possess them. In order, therefore, to judge and to in- fer with facility a certain degree of quickness of the primitive forces is indispensable. If, lastly, we consider that, in 17, we defined the intellect or the understanding as the sum of all concepts, it is clear that we there meant intellect in its narrowest sense. Judgments and inferences are equally intellectual operations, because they are not possible without concepts. We must, therefore, also in- clude these in the sphere of the intellect, or intellectual develop- ment, inasmuch as they require the same peculiar mental modifications — concepts characterized by the combination of 54 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. many similar elements — which alone bring clearness into the mind, and, therefore, may be rightly called the light of the soul. This brings us to the question : Is the intellect an innate faculty or power of the human mind? It has always been so con- sidered, because a distinction was never made between the developed and the non-developed intellect. The non-developed intellect we have found to consist of nothing more than the energy of our primitive forces to maintain that definite development as vestiges, which has been wrought by the action of external stimuli, and which finally, by the law of attraction of like to like, combines into concepts, judgments, and inferences. The developed intellect, then, requires, if we first consider its inferring faculty, a single judgment as a basis. Judgments are impossible without concepts. Concepts cannot originate without primitive perceptions, and primitive perceptions would not be fit to be sublimated into concepts if their vestiges were not perfectly retained by a sufficient degree of energy of the primitive forces. Thus we come back again to the energy of our primitive forces, w T hich energy indeed, besides the law of attraction of like to like, is the innate, ulti- mate and only source of the human understanding. The developed intellect we may call a faculty or power, acquired but not innate, and thus settle the question. An analyzing method of examination cannot allow un- questioned the existence of any such artificial so-called faculties or powers. In the practice of that method we must endeavor to examine into the very elements of mental pro- cesses, no matter how complicated these processes appear, and show the existence of their elements, and then construe out of them the very process in question. Only in this way is it possible to gain clear and distinct knowledge of mental development and growth. We must, in this investigation, fol- low the same method as that by which other natural sciences have attained their high perfection. By the strict carrying out of these principles Beneke has succeeded in elevating Psychology to the level of the other natural sciences, and in this way developed an insight into the hidden workings of our mind, as no one before him had ever been able to do. SUMMARY. 55 Beneke, by his wonderful genius, created an altogether new science of Psychology. 22. Summary. I. The primitive forces of the human soul. — These primitive forces manifest themselves as the faculties of seeing, hearing, touching, smelling, tasting and feeling, and these faculties are known by the name of senses (1-3). We call them primitive forces, because they are the original and innate powers of the mind (3), the elements of which the mind consists of at birth, and out of which all further capabilities gradually develop. The primitive forces possess three different qualities in various degrees : 1. Acuteness or sensitiveness, in consequence of the existence of which quality the different primitive forces need for their ob- jective development a smaller or larger quantum of external stimuli (5). 2. Energy or retentiveness, in consequence of which the dif- ferent primitive forces continue to exist more or less perma- nently in the definite change which they have undergone by the action of external stimuli upon them (7) ; and, 3. Quickness, in consequence of which the different primitive forces receive more or less rapidly external stimuli, and cause a more or less lively convertibility of latent agencies into conscious ones. In short, a more or less lively activity of the entire mind (14). The primitive forces, endowed in varying degrees with these qualities, constitute the very being, the very essence of the human soul, and predetermine the soul's entire future develop- ment, which development, even under the most similar external influences, must nevertheless attain in the course of time an entirely subjective character (14). The higher, spiritual nature of the human soul has its foundation in the greater energy of its primitive forces (10, and others). Primitive forces are constantly acted upon by external stimuli, and be- come objectively developed, in which objectively developed 56 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. state they remain as vestiges (61). The primitive forces consumed in this process are replenished during sleep (13). Not all the primitive forces assume a definite, fixed form from the action of external stimuli upon them. These forces are sometimes merely changed in a general way correspond- ing to the more general action of external stimuli. Being only partially acted upon, these forces retain their mobile nature (like the primitive forces unaffected by external stimuli) and remain capable of exciting into motion or con- sciousness such latent modifications as bear more or less re- semblance to them. By their withdrawal the excitation ceases. II. External stimuli. — External stimuli consist of external influences capable of affecting either the sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste or feeling (3). We have found thus far that the quantitative relation of external stimuli to the primitive forces may be either sufficient, so as to produce clear perceptions and a feeling of satisfaction, or insufficient, producing no perceptions, or, at least, no clear perceptions, and a feeling of dissatisfaction (11). By their action upon the primitive forces the latter are objectively developed (4), and as these modifications re- main as vestiges (6), and constantly become augmented by the action of new similar external stimuli, there arise conscious aggregates (10). The external stimuli excite their similar vestiges into consciousness (12). III. The fundamental processes of the human soul: 1. The reception of external stimuli, which is : In the human soul originate sensations and perceptions in consequence of im- pressions from the external world (4). In consequence of the nature of the primitive forces — the primitive forces being life itself — they endeavor to assimilate external stimuli, and by the assimilation of external stimuli the primitive forces grow into specific forms. These specific forms endure. By reason of this process vestiges originate in the human soul (6) and constitute what is commonly under- stood by memory (9). That all which once originates with a sufficient degree of perfection endures, until it is destroyed, is a universal law (6). 2. The attraction of like to like, which is : In the human soul constantly unite like with like, and similar with similar (9). SUMMARY. 57 New external stimuli (present impressions) always and un- mistakably find their similars (which exist as vestiges from former similar impressions) ; external stimuli excite the pre- existing similar impressions into consciousness (12) and unite with them. In this way consciousness grows clearer and stronger in the proportion in which similar impressions unite (10). In like manner the like of different perceptions fuse and form a new mental modification, which new modification we call a concept (15) ; and if again the like of different con- cepts fuse into one, we obtain a higher concept (16). Thus we logically come to the consideration of classification and generalization (16). Of what does the intellect or understanding consist? (17 and 21). When either a similar concept joins a simple per- ception, or a concept is joined by a similar higher concept, we say the mind judges. What is the faculty of judging? (18). Of what does the reciprocal influence of the concept and per- ception upon each other during an act of judging consist? ( 19). The similar concepts of two judgments unite also into one con- scious act, forming a conclusion. The whole process is called an inference or a syllogism, and denotes what is generally un- derstood by the term inferring (20). What are the condi- tions necessary for successful judgments and syllogisms ? (21). What may be called the light of the soul ? (21). Is the under- standing an innate faculty of the mind? (21). PART II. THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 23. Explanation of the Term Conation. I am glad to be able to refer, as an authority for the use of this term, to so eminent an authority as Sir Wm, Hamilton. "In English, unfortunately, we have no term capable of adequately expressing what is common both to will and desire; that is, the nisus or conatus — the tendency toward the realiza- tion of their end. By will is meant a free and deliberate, by desire a blind and fatal, tendency to act. Now, to express, I say, the tendency to overt action — the quality in which desire and will are equally contained — we possess no English term to which an exception of more or less cogency may not be taken. Were we to say the phenomena of tendency, the phrase would be vague ; and the same is true of the phenomena of doing. Again, the term phenomena of appetency is objectionable, because (to say nothing of the unfamiliarity of the expression), though perhaps etymologically unexceptionable, it has both in Latin and English a meaning almost synonymous with desire. Like the Latin appetentia, the Greek 'opegcq is equally ill-balanced, for, though used by philosophers to comprehend both will and desire, it more familiarly suggests the latter, and we must not, therefore, be solicitous, with Mr. Harris and Lord Monboddo, to naturalize in English the form orectic. Again, the phrase phenomena of activity would be even worse; every possible objection can be made to the terms active powers, by which the philosophers of this country have designated the orectic facul- (58) PRIMITIVE FORCES ARE CONATIVE IN THEIR NATURE. 59 ties of the Aristotelians. For, you will observe that all facul- ties are equally active ; and it is not the overt performance, but the tendency toward it, for which we are in quest of an expression. The German is the only language I am acquainted with which is able to supply the term of which philosophy is in want. The expression Bestrebungs-Vermogen, which is most nearly, though awkwardly and inadequately, translated by striving faculties — faculties of effort or endeavor — is now generally em- ployed, in the philosophy of Germany, as the genus compre- hending desire and will." {Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 128.) Our author quoted finally adopts the terms conation and cona- tive (from conari) as the most appropriate expressions for the class of phenomena in question, and so shall I. Without these terms I should be at a loss to convey the ideas I shall endeavor to express in this part of my work. Nevertheless, I shall also use the terms striving and tending for the German streben, as both or either of them may at times express the sense of the ideas to be conveyed better than the Latin conation and conati ve. 24. The Primitive Forces are Conative in their Nature. The human soul has been wrongly compared to a tabula rasa. Being a living soul, its primitive forces are tending to act and to receive. In the presence of external stimuli, primitive forces are not merely passively impressed, but they seize the external stimuli actively, because they are conative in their nature. This living activity manifests itself continually. Observe the new-born child. When awake it is in continual motion; its hands, feet, head, eyes and tongue move; and, after awhile, if the little one be neglected, it cries. At a later period, the child is continually on the go; and if it is not properly occu- pied it will be doing all sorts of mischief. Man, as well as the child, must do something; and if he is not in the habit of doing right, he will do wrong. We meet occasionally people who, after working hard and contentedly, are met by the mis- fortune of suddenly acquired riches. Now happiness begins ! GO THE SPHERE OF CONATION. some might think, and they are happy for a while. But such persons soon become discontented and uneasy, because if they have given up work, they do not know what to do with them- selves. Parisians have much to say about rich Englishmen who come to Paris to partake of all the pleasures that city of luxury and laxity affords, and who, after becoming tired and satiated, know of nothing better to do than to end their ennui with a pistol. " With pleasure drugged, he almost longed for woe, And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below." — Byron. The single-cell system is a means of great punishment, if the prisoner be kept shut off without employment. In fact, man cannot stand doing nothing. He feels incessantly urged and forced to apply his strength, because his primitive forces are, in their very nature, conative, that is, tending or striving to be em- ployed. If, now, we once more look back to the infant, we find that it is all the same to him whether we show him one or another object. With equal willingness he receives external stimuli of any color, form or size. He shows no particular desire for a special sound, and all his other primitive forces tend merely toward a union with external stimuli correspond- ing to their nature. From this fact it follows that the innate conative nature of the primitive forces is not a tendency or striving toward specially de- fined or particular external stimuli, but rather a general tendency toward repletion with external stimuli which correspond to their nature. A special conation exists only so far as the faculties of sight tend toward repletion with elements of light, the facul- ties of hearing toward elements of sound, etc. In short, each class of primitive forces strive toward stimuli which correspond to their nature. Indeed, special tendencies, id est, particular de- sires, for one or another special object or external stimulus, no child has ever shown at birth. Even the mother's breast it does not care for, if its conation for nourishment is otherwise amply satisfied. How, then, do all special desires, longings, appetites, etc., QUANTITATIVE RELATION. 61 originate, if the primitive forces possess a conative nature so indeterminate in its character ? We shall endeavor to explain in the following chapters. 25. Quantitative Relation Between the External Stim- uli and the Primitive Forces. Of quantitative relations between external stimuli and primi- tive forces we know two kinds (11), namely : 1. The external stimuli are too iveak, too faint, to cause the recipient forces to be fully developed. This is an insufficient stimulation, and causes a cor- responding feeling of non-satisfaction. In such cases the forces are not perfected, as the immediate feeling of non-satisfaction proves. On the contrary, they are merely tainted, imperfectly developed, and remain at best as obscure and imperfect vestiges. 2. The external stimuli are adequate to the recipient forces. Under this favorable condition the primitive forces exhaust the conative power in the reception of the stimuli. The yearn- ing of the primitive forces for development is appeased. We know the yearning for development is appeased by the immediate feeling of satisfaction always attendant upon such a process. The primitive forces assume predominantly and permanently the character of the stimuli; they undergo a definite and complete transformation or objective develop- ment, in which they endure as vestiges; and as additional like processes result in clear perceptions, this relation of external stimuli to primitive forces is the actual basis of all intellectual development, We shall call it the full stimulation. But there are other relations yet to be considered. 3. Suppose we enter a theatre or ball-room, splendidly illu- minated and decorated, or remember our younger days, when at Christmas-eve we were called into the room where the Christmas-tree stood in its radiant beauty. I am sure the re- membrance alone that gave such glory to childhood brings a smile to the cheek, however careworn. Suppose we hear a poem well recited. This gives us pleasure. Let the poem be sung and accompanied by an orchestra, and it will cause a still greater pleasurable feeling. Why is this ? 62 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. In both cases there are more external stimuli rushing to our senses than are actually required to satisfy the capacity of the recipient forces. A much smaller amount would be sufficient to cause clear perceptions. This abundance, we feel, does not increase clearness, but throws the primitive forces into a state of excitement, which rather hinders than promotes a quiet and perfect development of the same, and although it is attended w T ith an immediate feeling of pleasure, we nevertheless soon become tired of a long continuance of such superabundant stimulation. This relation of external stimuli to primitive forces we shall call the pleasurable stimulation. 4. As already mentioned, we soon become tired of pleasur- able stimulations. Just as little as man can stand doing nothing, can he bear an excitement which has nothing but pleasure for its object. This fact can be proven by a number of instances. The pleasure experienced in listening to a melody, however sweet and pleasing at first, if continued for too long a time, becomes intolerable. We may even become nauseated at the sight of a rich and finely-savored dish, if we have eaten of it too often ; although the eating of it for the first few times gave us keen gustatory pleasure. The man who spends his life in constant pleasurable excitements, wears himself out before his time. We have here a relation of external stimuli to the primitive forces similar to the third ; that is, more elements than the forces require, and, in consequence, a pleasurable stimulation at first. But if this abundant influence is pro- tracted too long or too often repeated, it causes a prostration of the primitive forces, manifesting itself in an immediate feeling of satiety, disgust or loathing. A condition of super- abundant stimuli is not at all favorable to a perfect de- velopment of the primitive forces. We may call this quantitative relation — this gradually increasing over-stimula- tion of the primitive forces — the satiating stimulation. 5. When from a dark room we suddenly emerge into the glaring sunlight, or when a gun is unexpectedly fired near us, or when we take some acrid substance into the mouth, or smell a pungent essence, or our hand comes in contact with a QUANTITATIVE RELATION. 63 hot stove, or we receive a blow upon any part of our body — in all these instances the external stimuli are too strong. They act suddenly, overwhelmingly upon the primitive forces and necessarily prostrate and cripple them. It is attended with an immediate feeling of pain. We call this relation the pain- ful stimulation. It is obvious that under such conditions a perfect development of the primitive forces has but a poor chance. The quantitative relation between external stimuli and primitive forces is of a five-fold nature, and may consist of (a) an insufficient, (b) a full, (c) a pleasurable, (d) a satiating, and (e) a painful stimulation. It will be necessary simply to intimate here that, in the actual play of our faculties, these classes are not marked by such strict lines of demarcation as are here presented. As everywhere in nature, there is also under the circumstances cited a gradual transition of one into the other, so that it is not possible to determine the quantum of external stimuli for a full or for a nearly full, or for an insufficient stimulation, etc. There is another important feature of these various quanti- tative relations that may, at this time at least, be touched upon. Everything that attains existence continues to exist until destroyed, and continues to exist with its own special character- istics, until they are altered. Now, it is clear that each of the different stimulations gives a peculiar character to the product resulting from that stimulation. The product of a. full stimu- lation must have a different character from that of a pleasur- able stimulation ; and both must differ essentially from the products of the remaining stimulations, which all, more or less, produce mental modifications of a feeble and imperfect character. If their products endure, their peculiar characters must also endure until changed. Consequently we find in these different stimulations the true foundation of the various characters, moods, tempers and peculiarities of the developed mind. One whose mental modifications are predominantly developed by full stimulations, will always be found well- balanced, cool and reflective. One whose mental modifications have received their predominant character from pleasurable stimulations, will always be wanting, wishing, longing and 64 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. fickle. A predominance of the remaining stimulations can- not produce anything but a weak, cross, irritable and peevish disposition. Hence the various dispositions of men are not innate qualities of the mind, but products; one great factor of which consists in the above-described different quantitative relations between the external stimuli and the primitive forces. 26. Mental Modifications Originating in Pleasurable Stimulations Result in Desires. I refer to what has been stated in the last chapter. Some- times external stimuli are offered in greater abundance than the primitive forces require for their full development. In this case they cause an agitation of the primitive forces, attended by an immediate feeling of pleasure. This agitation, however, hinders the primitive forces from as thorough an objective development as takes place in the case of a full stimulation. They retain more or less their original conative character, and assume the character of the stimuli in a subordinate degree only. The primitive forces receive thus a development sui generis; a development which, by additional like processes, pro- duces modifications possessing predominantly the subjective character of the primitive forces, which are of a predominantly striving nature. This is substantiated by daily experience. After a pleasurable stimulation we feel a desire for a repetition of the same. A fine exhibition we desire to see again. A fine piece of music we like to hear repeated. A pinch of snuff, a piece of tobacco (if once we are pleasurably excited by it), we crave again; and if a man has been pleasurably stimulated by a certain kind of food or drink, he soon acquires a desire for it. This peculiarity is easily explained. The primitive forces are conative in their nature. The conative power is spent in the conversion of the primitive forces into objective develop- ments, by the reception of external stimuli (25). The more complete this conversion, the less conative power remains. On the other hand, the less complete this conversion, the more conative power is retained by the primitive forces. When, then, under a pleasurable stimulation (see above) the primitive PLEASURABLE STIMULATIONS RESULT IN DESIRES. 65 forces are only partially modified, it follows that their original conative power is but little diminished, and that they still strive, as before, after objective development. But now the case is somewhat altered. Having been partially modified by the stimulants of a special object, their original general cona- tion has likewise undergone change. It is now directed into a definite channel. From a general conation it has been modi- fied into a tending toward stimuli of a special object. In short, the original general conative power of the primitive forces has been converted into a special desire. Thus it is that mental modifica- tions, which originate in pleasurable stimulations, result in desires. 27. How Far the other Modes of Stimulation are Capable of Producing Desires. An object seen at twilight causes us to strain our eyes to perceive it fully. A sound that strikes our ear with insuffi- cient loudness, we try to catch wholly. The same is true of the other senses, if they are stimulated in an insufficient degree. The reason is this : As insufficient stimulations only partially satisfy the conative power of the primitive forces, the imperfectly employed forces strive for repletion in the same direction, and thus special desires originate even from an insufficient quantum of external stimuli. But, if we continue this kind of stimulation, we soon find that our striving for further repletion would cease or become very feeble ; for it is a process in which the primary forces are merely imperfectly developed, and thus result in invalid and impotent modifica- tions, which, no matter how often produced, would neverthe- less leave the mind weak and imbecile. In the conscious presence of vigorous mental modifications they cause an action of the mind, which is termed aversion. Of this, however, I shall speak more fully in 34. An adequate amount of external stimuli pervades the primitive forces thoroughly. It is the most favorable condition under which the primitive forces can undergo a definite and complete transformation or objective development ; they assume pre- 6Q THE SPHERE OF CONATION. dominantly and permanently the character of. the stimuli, and their co-native power is, for the most part, spent in the recep- tion of the stimuli. Nevertheless they retain enough of their original conative nature as to be still capable of tending toward a renewal of the same stimulation. This we find in accordance with daily experience; for we w T ant frequently to see and to hear again what we have previously observed or heard quietly and under the most favorable conditions. Thus far even the full stimulation is capable of producing special desires. The satiating stimulation must necessarily have the same effect at least so far as it is, in its beginning, similar to a pleasur- able stimulation. In its highest degree it cannot but cripple the primitive forces and their conative powder. Nevertheless, when we observe in drunkards and gluttons quite strong desires for further dissipations, it is not the satiating stimula- tion which they desire. It is a yearning after those pleasurable impressions they have enjoyed before their excess amounted to a temporary satiety. The painful excitation offers the least chance for the forma- tion of special desires, because the sudden and excessive influ- ence injures the primitive forces to such a degree that their conative power is at once paralyzed, and may be even per- manently injured. We find, therefore, nobody wdio desires a repetition of any process that causes pain. In reviewing the different quantitative relations of external stimuli, there is none so favorable for the formation of special desires as pleasurable stimulation. Under the conditions of pleasurable stimulation the inborn conative power of the primi- tive forces remains unimpaired, and the primitive forces receive a development wdiich comes nearest to the vigorous develop- ment of a full stimulation. Still, as the agitation w T hich is occasioned by the greater amount of external stimuli hinders the primitive forces from a thorough objective development, the primitive forces retain their conative nature in a sufficient degree to constitute a vigorous striving for a repetition of the same influences. In this way the pleasurable stimulation pre- sents all the conditions which are favorable for the formation of special desires in the most perfect manner. (Compare 33.) the act of desiring. 67 28. The Act of Desiring is at the Same Time an Act of Conceiving. — Two Different Forms of Reproduction of Pleasurable Modifications. Before we can desire a thing, that thing must first have acted pleasurably upon us. During a pleasurable stimulation the primitive forces retain predominantly their co-native nature, but assume also, at the same time, more or less distinctly, the character of the stimuli. In the degree in which this latter takes place they are converted into vestiges of perceptions. If, for instance, a flower has pleasantly acted upon us, the result will be not only that we desire to see the flower again, but also that we have, at the same time, a more or less distinct concep- tion of the flower, because just by this more or less distinct objective development the conative power of the primitive forces receives its direction to this special object, by which the whole act assumes the form of a desire (27). An act of desir- ing can, therefore, never exist without an act of conceiving, that is, of reproducing a perception (10). Hence one and the same mental act (all acts are mental modifications, either vestiges or active conscious excitations) is partially a desire and partially a conception. It is desire so far as the primitive forces have retained their conative power, and it is conception so far as they have been converted into vestiges of perception. Such a conception will always be of a pleasurable nature, because it has originated from a pleasurable stimulation. Conception and desire are, therefore, only two different forms of one and the same mental act — not at all two different mental acts in themselves. Still, it is possible that in the process of reproduction the one or the other of these forms may so pre- ponderate, that each may appear as an independent or separate act. If, for instance, the larger part of the primitive forces is converted into vestiges of a perception, the reproduction of such modification will be a pleasurable conception or remem- brance ; while, on the other hand, if the primitive forces retain in greater part their original conative power, the reproduction of such modification will have the decided character of a desire. Thus we come to the important fact that a pleasurable G8 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. mental modification is capable of being reproduced in two different forms, either as a pleasurable remembrance, or as a distinct desire for a similar pleasurable stimulation. It is even possible that the one or the other form may gain a permanent preponderance. We observe, especially in the lower senses, that the pleasurable modifications assume the character of desires, because the primitive forces of these senses possess by nature a much lower degree of energy than the higher senses (8) ; consequently their objective development is not so permanent ; they retain more of their inborn conative power, which clothes the reproductions with the form of desire. The higher senses, on the contrary, are characterized by a higher degree of energy. They continue to exist more persist- ently in that definite change which they have undergone by the action of stimuli, and therefore the reproduction of pleas- urable modifications assumes predominantly the form of pleasurable remembrances. There are, however, a number of pleasurable modifications in which both forms of reproduction are equally balanced. The third form of reproduction — that of feeling — I shall speak of more fully in 50. 29. Similar Desires Coalesce. — Inclination, Propensity, Passion. We have seen (9, 16, 18 and 20) that the law of attraction of like to like exerts its influence in the sphere of cognitions. We shall see its influence equally great in all conative modifica- tions. Striking illustrations of this fact are not scarce. Recall instances of the miserable victims of opium and whiskey ! Their desires grow with the use of these poisons, until those desires are irresistible. Quick, indeed, grow 7 all desires founded in the low r er senses ; for these senses, on account of their low degree of energy, are much more apt to produce desires, as we have shown in the last paragraph. Frequent repetition in a short time swells them to formidable magnitude. Desires also grow T in the higher senses by repetition of pleasurable stimulations. INFLUENCE OF THE QUALITIES OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 69 We see this fact verified in enthusiasts for music, painting, etc., in all sort of queer geniuses who ride their hobbies. The miser even belongs in this category. From continued pleas- urable stimulations their desires grow stronger and stronger, until they attain a leading control over all other mental modifications. All this goes to show that similar desires coalesce as do similar perceptions, thus originating in the soul those multiplex conative modifications, which, in the language of common life, are designated by the terms inclination, propen- sity, passion. 30. Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces Upon the Formation of Desires. The nature of desires consists of the preponderance of the conative power in the primitive forces, which conative power remains the stronger the less firmly the primitive forces undergo an objective development. A high degree of tenacity favors the latter, and so far it is not favorable to the formation of desires. This assertion agrees fully with the general observation, that most desires originate in senses possessing less energy — the lower senses. Yet, on the other hand, how could inclinations and even passions be produced, if it were not, as we have seen in the last paragraph, that single similar desires were held together and retained as vestiges? Without that power none of these multiplex conative forma- tions would ever originate, and we may measurably witness this if we observe idiots and animals. In both the energy of the primitive forces is of a low grade; and, therefore, although both of them unmistakably form a great many desires and even inclinations that are definitely determined toward this or an- other object or person, the desires and inclinations do not attain to real passions— that multiplex aggregate of similar desires which, by a sufficient degree of inherent energy, grows to that conative power of the mind which overcomes the great- est difficulties. Thus we see that, although a very high degree of energy is not 70 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. favorable for the formation of desires, a certain degree of energy is nevertheless indispensable for the formation of inclinations and passions. 2. Tlieir acuteness or sensitiveness. Another condition for the formation of desires is a pleasur- able stimulation of the primitive forces (25, 26). The higher the degree of acuteness, the less external stimuli are required to affect the primitive forces (5). Consequently a high degree of acuteness must be exceedingly favorable for the formation of desires. This point we find everywhere corroborated by experience. One possessing a fine taste is easily pleasurably excited by the addition of a very small quantity of condiments to his food ; while another, possessing dull taste, requires much larger amounts of pepper and mustard. To a fine ear soft music may cause great pleasurable excitation. The dull ear requires the sound of drums and trumpets to become in any way aroused, etc. In short, there is no doubt that a greater amount of acuteness of the primitive forces causes pleasurable excita- tions easily ; and, as these are the foundation of desires (9), it is evident that a high degree of acuteness of the 'primitive forces is very favorable for the formation of desires. 3. Their vivacity. A higher degree of this quality causes a livelier activity of the soul throughout. In this general way desires are likewise favorably affected by it. Slow forces are not only slow in perceiving, but also slow in striving. It is in the sanguine temperament that we find lively desires most promi- nently developed; while the phlegmatic, whose primitive forces are wanting in acuteness and vivacity, is scarcely ever aroused to passion. 31. External Stimuli and Primitive Forces as Mobile Elements. A. All psychical modifications hitherto considered (percep- tion, concept, judgment, inference, desire, inclination, pro- pensity, passion) are products of primitive forces and stimuli. By the latter we are continualby surrounded. Stimuli are EXTERNAL STIMULI AND PRIMITIVE FORCES. /I emitted from all objects external to the soul, and even from our own body. Stimuli stream upon us from all sides. These stimuli, into the nature of which we will inquire later, we shall designate as the first class of mobile elements, because in reality they are different modes of motion (78). B. Every night at a certain hour we experience a regularly recurring diminution of our sensorial faculties. We do not see nor hear as clearly as we did through the day. The eyelids shut and the hearing is blunted. It is true, an extra excite- ment may rouse us again into full activity for a certain time, but finally exhausted nature yields. There is no substitute for sleep. After sleep we again see, hear, think, wish, will, etc., as briskly and as vigorously as before. What, then, is it that has been exhausted through the day and restored by sleep? As seeing, hearing, etc., are mental acts by which primitive forces are modified (2, 3, 4), and thereby are constantly consumed, it is these primitive forces w T hich have become exhausted through the day's work; and, as after sleep all mental functions again revive to vigorous activity, to what else could it be referred than to a restoration of the primitive forces? Sleep, then, is a condition necessary for the restoration of consumed primitive forces. Of this process, however, I shall speak more fully in 99. At present it is sufficient to note that such restoration actually takes place during sleep, and we shall likewise call these newly-restored primitive forces mobile elements; because, so long as they are not objectively developed by external stimuli (that is, so long as they have not been transformed into fixed vestiges), they are free, capable of entering into any combination which corresponds to their general character. This is, then, the second class of mobile elements, namely, the newly-formed primitive forces. C. If it were possible that the reception of external stimuli (the processes of seeing, hearing, etc.) could take place without primitive forces, or by some mental modifications already formed ; and moreover, if it were possible that consciousness could be kept active without other aid than that of vestiges (which in fact, as we have seen in 10, are, on account of their aggregate nature, the very ground of all consciousness), it 72 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. would be entirely superfluous to have a period of rest like that of sleep, in which new primitive forces could be produced. But this is not so. External stimuli have no effect upon the soul unless they are received by free primitive forces (4), which are thereby converted into vestiges. Such conversion continu- ally decreases the number of primitive forces; and that is the reason why after a day's work our capability to see and to hear, etc., is diminished in a corresponding degree. Conscious excitation also can only be kept up by means of mobile ele- ments (9, 13). Now, it is an incontrovertible fact of experience, that so long as we are awake and have not shut our eyes, there are ele- ments of light flowing into the mind constantly without neces- sarily forming special perceptions. We are conscious of seeing, but are not always conscious of what we see, thus showing that the external stimuli do not always excite their corresponding vestiges into a conscious state. Hence, it follows that this un- conscious reception must take place entirely by free or empty primitive forces. Aye, even more, as from such unconscious reception conscious modifications seldom result, it follows that the stimuli leave no distinct vestiges, and consequently that the action of such stimuli is not attended by a perfect trans- formation of the primitive forces. The same is true with regard to the sense of hearing. How many different sounds and noises, of which I am not conscious in the least, enter my ear ! If I remember some of them after- ward in a faint manner, it proves only that they have been received, but not that the primitive forces have been thereby actually converted into distinct vestiges. This is equally true of all other senses. We may say: External stimuli are continually acting upon all classes of primi- tive forces, but do not always give rise to distinct and fixed modifica- tions. Nevertheless such action cannot be without some effect; for, although the primitive forces are not converted by the general stimuli into fixed forms, the primitive forces undergo some change — assume to some extent the character of the stimuli. We may consider the changes noted as partially modified forces. As such they retain their mobility, and obtain OFFICE AND USE OF THE MOBILE ELEMENTS. 73 at the same time a general tendency toward modifications which have been developed by similar stimuli. These par- tially modified primitive forces constitute the third, class of mobile elements. We have thus three classes of mobile elements: 1, external stimuli; 2, free primitive forces ; and 3, partially modified primi- tive forces. 32. Office and Use of the Mobile Elements. We have partially touched upon this subject in 12 and 13. In those sections we have seen that external elements always and necessarily find their similar vestiges and excite them into consciousness ; and also that free primitive forces flow to other objective modifications, and cause the latter to become conscious. We may trace this process still further. Why is it that the first fine spring day exercises such a charm upon every one ? It is because the charms of the day yield so many pleasurable external stimuli. These stimuli spread, as mobile elements, over a large number of similar pleasurable modifications already existing, excite them into consciousness, and thus cause that peculiarly exalted state of the mind. It is not only that the beauty of nature causes a pleasurable excitation of its own, but that beauty excites at the same time a number of other pleasurable modifications — perhaps remembrances of olden, happy times — and is thus the cause of a much higher elevation of the mind than a mere pleasurable excitation could produce of itself. Let me submit another example. I sit quietly in my room, reading or writing, or doing something else, in the usual quiet way. I receive a letter. I open it; I read it, and the further I read the more eager and restless I grow. Finally, I find myself in a turmoil of thought. Why is this ? Surely it can- not be an abundance of external stimuli coming from the let- ter. What I see is mere paper and figures written upon it. But these figures excite mental modifications composed of numerous elements — of the conception of a dear old friend, or of an urgent business, or of some other important matter thus 6 74 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. conveyed. Whatever the cause be, the mental modifications that have been aroused by the letter must consist of numerous elements, which elements, being in close connection with other modifications, likewise excite them into consciousness. In the same manner one word may sometimes cause an excitation of the mind wholly inexplicable, were it not for the mobile elements which start from that word and diffuse all around, exciting into consciousness numbers of ideas intimately connected with it. It is here that the partially modified forces come into play. They are drawn into the excitement, and, being of a general character, flow to those latent agencies which, by former associations, are the most intimately con- nected with the first, and thus cause a commotion of ideas. This perturbation may take place independently of our wish or desire. If one excites into consciousness the conception of a steeple, consciousness does not remain confined to the steeple alone, but gradually spreads to the whole building of which the steeple is a part. Or, I say : Two times two is — ; six and six is — ; Philadelphia lies between — ; and I know that all in whom the knowledge of the answers exists will at once supply the predicates. Similarity, the mobile elements, which are here partially modified forces, flow constantly from one modifi- cation to another, either similar or connected by previous simultaneous presence in consciousness, and stimulate these modifications into consciousness. But free primitive forces are also mobile elements. They, too, are capable of moving from one modification to another; but, as they are of a conative nature, they naturally join with such modifications as are the most similar to them, or such as are predominantly of the same character, like all desires, inclinations and passions. Thus results voluntary excita- tion into consciousness. But it is otherwise when we want to recollect something. Be it, for example, a name that we once knew, and wish to recall. What was that name? Perhaps the mere wish brings it at once to the mind. At other times it requires greater effort ; and sometimes it appears as though the name had been entirely wiped out of memory. OFFICE AND USE OF THE MOBILE ELEMENTS. 75 What was that name? We make all sorts of combinations. Him ley? No I Hemmit? No! 0, well, that prince of Denmark of whom Shakespeare wrote a drama ! Hamneit? No ! Hemlot? Neither ! But similar. There it comes ! Hamlet is the name ! It is clear that if we had just seen or heard that name, that is, had external stimuli been present, we would have known the name at once, without the necessity of searching for it ; but just then the external stimuli were wanting, and hence we had to make an exertion (that is, by means of conative forces, we had to hunt for it), and finally, after several failures, we found it. This is an experience of every-day occurrence. We come then to the resulting rule : That not only external stimuli and par- tially modified forces excite mental modifications into {involuntary) consciousness; but, also, that free primitive forces arouse latent agencies into {voluntary) consciousness. So soon as these stimula- ting elements depart, the now conscious modifications sink again into delitescence. We see then that it is by means of the mobile elements that the constant change between conscious and unconscious modifications takes place ; and that the activity of our soul is carried on during our waking state and sometimes even during sleep, in the form of dreams. We may define this process as follows : Mobile elements are constantly flowing from one mental modification to another, and thus cause a continual transmu- tation of mental modifications, from delitescence into conscious exci- tation, and vice versa. This fundamental process, which indeed constitutes the activity of the soul, we call the diffusion of mobile elements, and we will find this process (if we stop a moment for reflection) acting with equal force throughout the whole exterior world. " Corpora non agunt nisi fluida" and only through fluids motion exists. This process lowers mountains and lifts up the depths of the sea. It warms again the freezing atmosphere, and cools down its scorching heat. From the oceans it waters the parching land, and from thence it sends back again what feeds the sea. The same process regulates the intimate connection between mind and body. Lightly and more energetically are moved muscles and bones when joyful tidings vibrate through the soul ; while, on the contrary, even the mind's energy suffers 76 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. under the influence of bodily pain. It is, indeed, a process universally acting and important; and, although we cannot observe the mobile elements themselves as they move from vestige to vestige (because they are unconscious elements), we see the effect of their action. Neither do w T e observe the con- tinual motion of the fluid elements of our bodies, and yet such motion, notwithstanding our inability to observe it, is an un- ceasing reality. Another question is : How, by reason of the fluid nature of these elements, can uniform regularity be pro- duced in their office to excite and to withdraw consciousness? Of this further investigations will bring full explanation. (Compare 39, 99.) 33. Strong and Weak Modifications. I shall, under this section, repeat some observations partly considered in 25, in order to gain a basis for further investi- gations. We know an insufficient stimulation causes, at best, indistinct perceptions, shadowy, feeble modifications, which modifi- cations (although at the time of the stimulation possessed of a faint striving for complete excitation) soon lose this ten- sion, and remain imperfect modifications, with a feeling of non- satisfaction. Thousands of such imperfect modifications, even united, would not be able to produce one single sound and perfect modification, because each imperfect modification bears the character of intrinsic debility, and debility added to debility can never result in strength. We know further that a satiating stimulation causes disgust and loathing, because the primitive forces, in consequence of the unceasing irritation of full or abundant external stim- uli, become tired and worn out. Such excitations must necessarily modify the primitive forces in an objective man- ner; but as the quantum of external stimuli grows gradu- ally too great and overwhelms the primitive forces by de- grees — covers them, as it were, with an aftergrowth — the satiating stimulation produces mental modifications likewise of a morbid, debilitated character. STRONG AND WEAK MODIFICATIONS. 77 Painful stimulations weaken the primitive forces suddenly. The products of such stimuli bear decidedly the character of debility. We see, then, that each of these quantitative relations (the insuffi- cient, satiating, and painful stimulations) produce mental modifica- tions distinguished by a character of debility, and, at the same time, of pain (if we allow the term pain, in its widest sense, to embrace non-satisfaction and loathing). These debilitated modifications continue to exist, like all other modifications, as latent agencies, and in them the weakness of a developed mind has its original foundation, as we shall learn hereafter. An altogether different result is produced by full stimulations. The immediate feeling of satisfaction attending them shows a gain in strength and perfection. Under such a condition the primitive forces, by reason of an adequate amount of external stimuli, have received a complete objective devel- opment, giving proof that the mind gains in strength and perfection in the same degree as the primitive forces are developed by full and adequate stimulations. A somewhat similar result is observed from pleasurable stimu- lations. Under the influence of pleasurable stimuli the quantum of external stimuli does not weaken the primitive forces, but stimulates them to a higher tension, manifest in the greater conative power with which pleasurably-modified forces strive for other similar stimulations. We gain thereby men- tal modifications of a two-fold nature. First : Modifications of the nature of pleasurable perceptions, proportionally as the primitive forces have been fully converted into vestiges. These, no doubt, we must consider as strong modifications. Secondly: Modifications of the nature of desires, proportionate to the higher agitation by which the primitive forces have been prevented from securing a thorough objective develop- ment. These must be considered as weak modifications, because they consist of imperfectly developed primitive forces. The result of our inquiry is: The human soul acquires strength or weakness according as its primitive forces are modified and developed by different modes of stimulation. These forces are strengthened so far as they undergo a 78 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. thorough objective development; they remain weak, or are weakened, if this development is frustrated by an unfavorable (either insufficient or superabundant) stimulation. 34. Repugnancies, Aversion, Repulsion, Resistance. We have an aversion to being stung by a bee. A child shows repulsion when compelled to take bitter medicine. The self-conceited resists a reproach, even if that reproach be just. In all cases we have a striving, yet not a striving for but against something. How does this mental condition originate? When a bee comes flying about your head threatening to sting, you become conscious (from previous similar experience) of the pain such a sting would cause. This conception of pain is called up during a state of mind free from pain — a state consisting of conscious modifications, which, compared with the pain that a bee-sting would produce, are of a pleasurable character. In short, in the midst of modifications of strength there is suddenly awakened a modification of debility. Both are related to the well-being of your person, both are therefore quite similar, but the one is the product of full or adequate, the other of painful stimulations. On the one hand, then, we have primitive forces perfectly developed ; on the other primitive forces imperfectly developed. Either of them, to be kept in consciousness, require mobile elements; and, as im- perfectly developed forces largely retain their original conative power (if they have not been totally crippled), they largely attract the existing elements, which thus are withdrawn from the perfectly developed modifications. This sudden with- drawal causes in return a revival of conative power in the per- fect modifications, and consequently a striving in the direction of the withdrawn elements, or against those modifications which cause this withdrawal. Such counter -striving we feel when a bee threatens to sting, and it is called a repulsion. In the case of a child showing repugnance to taking bitter medicine, the same process occurs. To the modification of feel- ing comparatively well, the sight of the medicine excites, on account of former similar experiences, a feeling of loathing. , REPUGNANCE, AVERSION, REPULSION, RESISTANCE. 79 This is a modification of debility, and, as such, withdraws the mobile forces from the modification of strength — namely, the child's feeling of comparative ease. This sudden withdrawal of mobile elements causes in return the modifications of strength to regain part of their original conative power, and they react against that conception of loathing and repel the medicine. A similar process occurs when a self-conceited man is re- proached. A conceited man's conception of his own worth is exceedingly strong. A reproach excites a conception of him- self that is anything but flattering. The conception of worth is antagonized by the conception of worthlessness. The "worthless" conception withdraws the abundant mobile ele- ments from the man's conception of his own worth, leaving the latter free of its ordinary stimulation, and consequently his desire for self flattering stimuli makes more manifest their absence. The original conation — concept of worth — resists reproach. In order, then, to produce an aversion or repugnance, it is necessary that two diverse modifications should rise simultaneously to consciousness — a modification of strength and a modification of debility. This process causes the mobile elements to flow from the former to the latter, and quickly converts the strong modi- fication into one of conation, and the conative force defends itself against the loss of stimuli involved in the process, thus engendering a counter-effect — a repugnance. We must, however, go still more into detail to become fully familiarized with this mental process. In the first place, it is not sufficient that any two diverse mental modifications, one of strength and one of debility, be roused together into con- sciousness. They must be similar ; that is, must bear a relation to the same or at least a similar object. If I have acquired, for ex- ample, correct modifications of a piece of music, these modifi- cations will cause a repugnance if I hear that piece of music faultily played; but these particular modifications do not enable me to repel against orthographical errors. Vice versa, if I have acquired the rules of orthography, but have no correct musical modifications, faulty or poor play would not provoke 80 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. my aversion, while an incorrectly written letter would. The repugnance to a mistake is felt only when the correct expres- sion rises into consciousness. In short, two diverse modifica- tions, roused at the same time into consciousness, must be similar in order to produce an aversion. Secondly. The striving against, as we observe in aversion, etc., is, in fact, of the same nature as the striving toward in desires of which we have spoken. It is the same manifestation of conative action of the primitive forces toward existing ele- ments, only with the difference that the striving is not directed toward elements external to itself, as in desires ; but toward the immediate loss which the modification of strength sustains by the attraction of the mobile elements to the modification of debility, a striving naturally assuming a direction against that modification which causes this loss. In the mental modifications of fear, anguish, terror, etc., there are usually several modifications of debility simulta- neously roused in consciousness, so that the modifications of strength, conscious at the same time, lose a considerable portion of mobile elements. If the mental modifications of strength develop sufficient conative power to resist those losses, there will result a repulsion against the modifications of debility. If, however, there is no modification of sufficient strength to resist and stop this sudden flow of mobile elements, there will, of course, be no repulsion, but the mobile elements will spread further and further, to bodily functions even, and cause screaming, crying, trembling and convulsions. Thirdly. The process of diffusion of the mobile elements is rarely confined to the modifications of strength and debility causing the phenomena in question. On the contrary, all that is mobile in the soul partakes of the motion, and excites such modifications as have been previously conjoined by simulta- neous presence in consciousness ; and thus it is, that when a bee threatens to sting, we feel not merely an aversion to being stung, but are at the same time aroused to defend ourselves. So is the child by the sight of the bitter medicine aroused to actual resistance against taking it ; and the self-conceited may, if reproach be offered, resort even to a kind of defence that PAINFUL EMOTIONS. 81 would not meet the approbation of gentlemen. We see thus, that the process of diffusion of mobile elements is not confined to the modifications of strength and debility which have given rise to it, but that it spreads all around ; that is, draws into excitation all such modifications as have previously been conjoined by their simultaneous presence in consciousness. Consequently we find explained the fact that the mere aver- sion combines at once with those other mental modifications which present the means of resisting the continued action of this special modification of debility. Lastly. We find that when the process of diffusion is at an end and all is quiet again, the diverse modifications which caused it, still continue to exist as they did before. The self- conceited holds the same high opinion of himself; the child is not in the least changed as regards his disliking bitter medicine; and we may feel just as well after the threatening bee has gone as we did before its approach. This fact shows clearly that the mental modifications which caused this com- motion by their simultaneous presence in consciousness, were not themselves dissolved during that process, but that the lively agitation consisted only in a shifting of mobile ele- ments. The free primitive forces take part in the process only so far as they join to modifications of strength, thus aug- menting the power of striving against, or resisting, that which affects us unpleasantly. 35. Repugnancies are Frequently Attended with Pain, and are then more violent than usual. — painful Emotions. Fits of anger, vexation, indignation, mortification, etc., are frequently attended by pain. Why are such emotions attended with a painful feeling? Let us take for an example the self- conceited. In him those mental modifications which have en- gendered an overweening conception of his own worth, have grown to considerable strength. They are modifications of a pleasurable character, replete with pleasurable elements. Let some one come and tell him that he is an utterly worthless 82 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. fellow in a certain respect — the respect in which he imagines himself to excel — and the consequence will be a painful emo- tion of anger and mortification. Why is this emotion painful? Because we have, in the case cited, on the one hand, modifica- tions replete with pleasurable elements, and, on the other hand, a modification so destitute of these elements that the numerous mobile elements of the first rush, according to the law of diffusion, so overwhelmingly to the latter, that they act like an overdose, and cause a painful stimulation in the same w T ay as any other sudden and overwhelming external in- fluence would produce pain at any time. This explains also the great violence of action against the intruding mental modi- fication of debility, with which such a process is accompanied. The diffusive process is sudden and extensive. Therefore, many of the primitive forces, previously developed by pleasur- able stimulation, are quickly converted into their original conative nature. This conversion must produce a lively repulsion of the weakening influence. We find, therefore, that a child commences to scream and kick if a favorite play- thing is suddenly taken from it, and adults resent interference w r ith their favorite inclinations in a more dignified way. Thus it is that in the degree in which a mental modification is replete with pleasurable elements, and thereby is made sharply antag- onistic to a similar mental modification destitute of these elements, their simultaneous presence in consciousness causes a more painful sensation by the process of diffusion; causing, in short, a more violent resistance and painful emotion. Such is not the case with the majority of aversions hourly originating in the soul. They leave us comparatively quiet. We merely go away from a place we dislike. We quietly correct the errors we find our pupils have made in speaking or writing. We patiently seek what we have lost, etc. 36. Similar Aversions Coalesce. Like unites with like (9). This law also exerts its influence in the case of aversions. The first rough treatment of a child by the nurse causes a painful modification, which, with the simul- THE FORMATION OF AVERSIONS. 83 taneous remembrance of the mother's kind treatment, creates the first aversion to the nurse. A repetition of the same treat- ment causes the same effect, and, both being similar, unite as such. In this way the first simple aversion in a short time grows, by repetition, into a strong repugnance to the nurse. Or, let us suppose that we had been disagreeably affected by the howling of a dog, and that in consequence an aversion to noise has originated. Let this be joined by the sounds of cats, owls, etc., and, provided that their first effect has been dis- agreeable, a repugnance to this discord (even an abhorrence of it) will be the inevitable result. This need not, however, necessarily be the case ; for we find persons not in the least painfully affected by such sounds, who never show, therefore, an aversion to them. We have thus an example of those seemingly contradictory conditions, in which it is found that certain persons detest a thing which others, perhaps, desire, or, at least, are indifferent to. It is the disagreeable or painful in- fluence a thing has exerted upon the mind, and the frequent repetition of such influence, that creates aversions and makes them grow to repugnance and detestation. Life presents many instances of this fact. 37. The Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces upon the Formation of Aversions. It will be found that in the discussion of this question we shall arrive at the same results as have been noted in 29, in considering the influence of the different qualities of the primitive forces upon the formation of desires. Since aversions can only originate when modifications of strength and debility exist in the human soul, it is clear that all that favors the development of these elements will likewise favor the formation of aversions. The most influential quality of the primitive forces, however, in this respect, is acuteness. Where acuteness exists in a high degree, even a moderate amount of external stimuli produces full stimulation and, a little more, pleasurable stimulation. Just as easily do satiating and painful stimulations arise under its influence. Varying 84 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. degrees of stimulation are the exact conditions required for the formation of energetic, as well as feeble, mental modifications (33), and consequently of aversions (34). However, for the origination of aversions it is likewise neces- sary that the diffusion of mobile elements should take place rapidly, and this rapidity depends on the degree of vivacity with which the primitive forces are endowed. The phlegmatic individual is just as slow informing aversions as he is in form- ing desires, while the sanguine is alike quick in originat- ing both. The energy of the primitive forces may be said to be, to a certain degree, rather unfavorable to the formation of aver- sions, inasmuch as primitive forces with a high degree of this quality, hold fast what they receive, thus limiting the amount of mobile elements. On the other hand, however, if such acts of resistance did not remain as vestiges, we could never attain to repugnance and abhorrence in the aggregates of single simi- lar aversions. The fact is, under the circumstances stated, just what it has been stated to be elsewhere, in regard to the formation of notions, passions, etc., viz : Only by preservation and accumulation can single mental acts grow into compound and powerful ones — desires as well as aversions. This truth is illustrated in cases of idiots and animals. Neither idiots nor animals, on account of the want of the requisite energy in their primitive forces, ever attain to the deeper grades of passion and detestation we find in the human being. 38. Good and Evil. Pleasurable stimulations produce desires (26), and the object causing such stimulations we consider good, that is, a some- thing capable of promoting our well-being in some way or other. As an illustration : The traveling facilities by railroad and steamboat are a public good, and are everywhere desired by people who know their advantages by experience. Coffee is considered good by those whom it has pleasurably excited. Anything grows more and more in favor as it is capable of causing pleasurable stimulations. In short, w T e may say, what- GOOD AND EVIL. 85 ever has the ability and opportunity of exciting us pleasurably, we consider as something good, and we strive to obtain it. We desire the good so long as we do not possess it. Possession of the good, however, appeases our desire, because then the primitive forces are constantly acted upon by the object at hand. A pleasurable modification loses thus the character of de- sire by the possession of the desired object, and, instead of it, gains the predominant character of a pleasurable conception. (Compare 28.) It happens now and then that we desire an object which, as yet, has not had an opportunity of causing pleasurable stimulation of our primitive forces. For instance, a child may be anxious to obtain a pineapple without ever having previously been pleasurably affected by eating one. In some there may be an intense desire to see foreign countries, with- out ever having personally received any pleasurable impres- sions from them. Still others may burn with a desire to hear a renowned composer's new opera — an opera as yet unknown to them. Now, how is it possible that we can desire things that have not excited us pleasurably ? In these instances we shall, by close examination, come to nearly the same result as already set forth. When a child desires a pineapple, it has already received many pleasurable impressions from other fruits. Seeing or being told that the pineapple is also a delicious fruit, the pleasurable impressions from other delicious fruits act as a substitute for the yet un- known pleasurable impressions of this fruit, and thus origi- nates a desire for it. In the case of a desire to see foreign countries, there exist already pleasurable stimulations from beautiful scenery already visited, or from descriptions of travelers, which, on account of their similarity, lend their conative force to the more miraculous spectacles imagined to lie in foreign countries. The same holds good when we desire to hear the new opera of a renowned composer, because, as his former productions have already excited us pleasurably, we do not expect anything else than pleasure from his latest work. We come, then, to the conclusion that we may desire a thing, or consider it as good, even though that supposed good has not yet had a chance to make a pleasurable impression upon us. 8G THE SPHERE OF CONATION. It is on account of the similarity the conceived object has with other objects from which we actually experience pleasure, that we form desires. Imagining that the unknown thing will create similar or greater pleasurable impressions, the conative force of the acquired pleasurable modifications is substituted for the yet unacquired. So soon as a thing exercises an unpleasant impression upon our primitive forces, which may be caused either by an in- sufficient, satiating or painful stimulation, there originates a mental modification of debility (33), and in consequence of this, if the necessary conditions are fulfilled (34), an aversion results. All that excites us unpleasantly, that causes a debili- tating effect upon us, we not only do not desire, but shun and strive against. We consider it an evil, a something which im- pairs our happiness or prosperity in some way or other. In this sense we consider sickness in general an evil ; fire and water only so far as they cause damages by their destructive power; but good, in so far as they promote our happiness and prosperity. Many things may be considered by some as good, while others may shun the same things as great evils. It depends entirely upon the manner in which things affect us, whether they cause pleasurable or painful stimulations. Full stimulations cause, as we have seen in 11, clear per- ceptions, or conceptions, when reproduced in consciousness, and constitute so firm a transformation of the primitive forces by external stimuli, that only a small portion of the primitive forces regains its conative power. Therefore, little chance is given for the formation of either desires or aversions (27). We consider things which cause full stimulations, generally speaking, neither as good nor as evil. However, as full stimulations perfectuate the mind, enrich it with new per- ceptions and ideas, the objects which are competent to produce this result assume the nature of good, and as there is no line of demarcation between full and pleasurable stimulations, we can hardly make a marked distinction between the objects causing them. They will be desired inasmuch, at least, as they enrich our knowledge, and thus become a real good for the inquiring mind. groups and series. 87 39. Unlike Mental Modifications Unite into Groups and Series. The union of like with like has been treated of in 9, 10, 15, 20. The union of unlike mental modifications into groups and series I shall now demonstrate. So soon as we hear the word " tree " there rises into con- sciousness, in all who hear it and understand its meaning, a whole group of totally distinct things, namely : Roots, trunk, branches, twigs, leaves, bark, etc. What we understand by the term " house " is a combination of quite different things in one group, namely : Walls, windows, doors, roof, chim- ney, parlor, kitchen, etc. Again, the mentioning of your sister's, brother's, or father's name, will at once excite into consciousness corresponding groups of quite diverse mental modifications, showing that in the human soul unlike modifications united in groups really do exist. It is of importance, therefore, to consider the means and processes by which such union of unlike mental modifications into groups is effected. When we see a tree we observe, as said before, different things united. Roots, trunk, branches, leaves, etc., make up the tree. In perceiving a tree, then, we perceive a group of things, all at the same time, or, at least, in quick succes- sion, and ever afterward in the same combination. These groups exist, therefore, in the external world. As such they are perceived and made the property of the mind. Still, this illustration does not explain the means by which these diverse objects are kept together in the mind. We must, in order to understand how this is done, go back and recall the existence and office of mobile elements (constantly flowing from mental modification to mental modification, and thus causing the ever-changing stream of consciousness, as we have demon- strated in 31 and 32). When, therefore, a group of unlike things (as we find presented when viewing a tree) is excited into consciousness simultaneously, or in quick succession, such excitation into consciousness is performed through the medium of mobile elements, which pervade the whole act. Now, the question arises: What becomes of these mobile elements 88 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. after they have set in motion these several different percep- tions? Do they stay in combination with the perceptions, or do they again disassociate? Experience teaches that both combination and disassociation take place, namely : Inasmuch as these groups sink into delitescence, to a certain extent the mobile elements must have disassociated; and inasmuch as we find, on again recalling the several perceptions, the different perceptions clinging together, to that extent these elements must have adhered to the perceptions; must have bound the different mental modifications together ; must have served as a connecting medium between them. This explana- tion is in accordance with the universal law of nature : Every effect endures so long as it is not modified or changed by adverse influences. In short, the connecting medium remains likewise as a vestige, and is multiplied with each act of repe- tition, thus growing stronger and stronger, and combining the several dissimilar perceptions or conceptions firmer and firmer to each other, so that filially a lasting union of these hetero- geneous modifications is established, in consequence of which they always rise conjointly into consciousness. These connecting vestiges are, therefore, latent agencies which pre-establish the possibility of the occurrence of future simultaneous conscious- ness of whole groups of dissimilar mental modifications. Beneke calls them " Weckungsangelegtheiten, ,> for which I know of no corresponding term in the English language. The term means provision for future excitations into consciousness. The number of associations of dissimilar mental modifica- tions in groups are very numerous in all human souls, because any object which we see (for our perception) is always of a complex character. Even the elementary gold we per- ceive is something that is yellow, hard, heavy, etc. As often as such an object is perceived, its several constitu- ents are overspread and pervaded by the existing mobile ele- ments, and as a portion of those elements adhere, the dis- similar perceptions become connected into permanent groups. Thus it happens that such groups exist to quite a considerable extent in the human soul, and that they sometimes consist of the most heterogeneous and oddest combinations. Superstition GROUPS AND SERIES. 89 imagines the devil as a being of human figure, with horns, a tail, and horse's feet. A remembrance of Frederick II. in some people excites regularly the ideas of a queue and a cane. If we furthermore find combined (and regularly) the object and its name, few only consider that these are perceptions which mostly have had their origin in different senses; that they, therefore, are groups of entirely dissimilar mental modifica- tions. The conception of a tree originates in the sense of sight, while the name "tree" has its origin in the sense of hearing. What we read, that is, perceive by the sense of sight, excites mental modifications which we have heard, and then, again, conceptions which originally may have had their origin in any of the other senses. Similarly, musical notes, which we see, excite conceptions of sounds we only could have acquired by hearing ; and if the smell of a rose excites into consciousness the figure, form, and color of a rose, and the taste of an apple its form and shape, we see clearly that the most dissimilar mental modifications may become connected into groups by mobile elements. There is nothing else required for the formation of such groups but the simultaneous presence in consciousness of the several mental modifications, and their permeation by mobile elements, which elements at the same time excite and unite them. But whole series of mental modifications may thus originate in the soul. Any sentence, poem, tale, we have learned by heart, is proof of it. But here the conjoining of the several constituents does not take place simultaneously, as in the case of the formation of groups ; because a series of perceptions can- not rise into consciousness at once, but only by a successive presentation of its parts. Thus the mobile elements spread only successively over the several mental modifications in the order in which they follow each other in consciousness, and conjoin them in this order, forming thus a continuity within a whole series of various mental modifications. Each repeti- tion makes this continuity firmer by the formation of new vestiges of the connecting media, until, finally, a lasting union between the different members of such a series is established. We then know it by heart. 7 90 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. Such series originate constantly in the soul ; and necessarily, because consciousness is ever wandering and changing from one object to another, occurring always in consequence of the existence of mobile elements, which elements excite it, and at the same time connect the several mental modifications which successively follow each other. Of course, in order to establish a lasting connection between the several links of a series, it is necessary that the several members thereof should be repeatedly conjoined, that is, repeatedly pervaded and overspread by mobile elements, w T hich end is realized by frequent repetition. Numerous series originate in this way. Every morning the sun rises, and every evening it sets. Thus follows day and night. Every month the moon regularly changes her phases, and each year brings forth in regular succession spring, summer, fall and winter. The little boy every day w T alks from his father's home to school, and the houses, streets, trees, etc., he passes on his way, are noted in regular order. How many other series are there we acquire by intentional exercises ! AVe need not won- der at the great multitude of series which gradually collect in the human mind. In addition, one thing more ought to be taken into con- sideration. As all that has originated once in the soul need not be formed anew, we can easily understand why some persons catch a knowledge of some things seemingly without any effort, which with others requires a great deal of pains- taking. The reason is that in the first case whole series and groups are already stored up, which enter as constituents moulded to the cast of the new knowledge. Their efforts can concentrate, therefore, upon what is merely new ; while in the second case those less mentally furnished have to acquire the whole of what is offered. For this reason it is much easier for one who speaks English to learn German, than for a French- man, because the German and English languages, being de- rived from a common stock, have great similarities. Just as easy is it to understand why, when we perceive an object from one side, we very often know already how it is shaped on its opposite side without the need of looking at it. We know SOME IMPORTANT SERIES. 91 from former experiences that the trunk of a tree is round on all sides ; that most houses, the fronts of which only we see in the streets, have back buildings and yards, without the neces- sity of ascertaining this fact in every case by personal inspec- tion, etc. It is a law that all that has once been acquired need not be acquired the second time, but enters as a ready constituent into all combinations, if fit for it; just exactly as the tone A of the piano fits not only to make the accord A sharp and A flat, but is also a constituent of F sharp, D sharp, D flat, F flat, etc. The constituents best fitted for entering into all sorts of combi- nations are notions or general ideas in combinations that are flexible, being composed only of the similars of many special things. But the apperceptions also, although they correspond to one object only, have nevertheless many points in common with others, as the objects themselves, from which they are derived, have many similarities with each other. It will now also better be understood why there occurs the union of the several constituents of concepts, judgments and syllogisms. The union likewise takes place in consequence of the same connecting media, the mobile elements, which pervade the several constituents of these modifications during their co- existence in consciousness and combination in one whole. In this instance the attraction of like to like acts at the same time. We need not wonder that just such mental modifica- tions attain the greatest durability. 40. Some Important Series. — Cause axd Effect. — End and Means. When we make fire in a stove, heat ensues. When it rains, the ground becomes wet. When we perceive an object fre- quently, our conception of it grows clearer; and when in connection with a pleasurable modification a painful one is excited, and the mobile elements from the first flow to the latter, there originates an aversion. We have always found these results to follow, and never otherwise. Upon making fire in a stove, there always follows warmth ; after rain, the earth is always wet. We have here several series, each consisting 92 the sphp:re of conation. of two parts — two different mental modifications, which, by their being invariably repeated together, gradually grow into so firm a union that, so soon as the one is excited, the other also rises into consciousness. Series like these, which, in consequence of processes follow- ing invariably one upon the other, either in the outer w*orld or in the mind, we carefully distinguish from other series. We consider each part a necessary constituent of the whole process. We consider the two constituents in a causal connection with each other, and call the first the cause and the second the effect. Mental modifications, standing in the relation of cause and effect, are, therefore, series which have originated in different processes, either in the outer world or in the mind, and have constantly and invari- ably followed one upon the other. We may call them causal series. It will, how T ever, be proper to mention here that not all sequences, which in the outer world follow invariably upon antecedents, stand in the relation of cause and effect. Of tw T o stars, which regularly rise one after the other, is the first the cause of the rising of the second? Is night the effect of day, or summer the effect of spring, or winter the effect of fall? All these stand in mere relation of space and time, but not in that of cause. It is a mere beside and after one another, but no by or through each other. There exists an external, but no in- ternal, connection between them. The discrimination between these two kinds of relations, in regard to the things of the outer world, is frequently very difficult to make, because in the outer world w r e observe merely appearances, which may, but need not, stand in an internal connection. It is different with the processes within our mind. In the mind everything that originates under a strictly causal relation manifests itself as thus induced. There is not, as in the outer w^orld, a mere before and after, which alone of all external processes our senses are able to perceive ; but we observe the processes them- selves, by themselves, and exactly as they originate, out of one another. (Compare Beneke's " Psychologische Skizzen," vol. ii., p. 264, et seq.) In reversing the above-mentioned series, so that we put first SOME IMPORTANT SERIES. 93 the effect and after it the cause, they would read as follows: An aversion originates when, in connection with a pleasurable, a painful mental modification is excited, and the mobile ele- ments from the first flow to the latter. The conception of an object grows so much the clearer the often er we perceive it ; the stove gets warm when we make fire in it, and the ground becomes wet when it rains. Such reversals of causal series take place frequently in the mind. They depend upon a reverse excitation and combination, of which, however, I can- not speak more explicitly here. The several constituents re- main the same. (Compare Beneke's " Neue Psychologie," p. 221, et seq., and Dressler's " Beitrage," vol. ii, p. 289.) Now, then, to proceed, there rises in me the desire to have a warm stove, and immediately I become conscious that fire pro- duces warmth. I want to get a clearer conception of a thing, and at once I know that repeated perceptions of that object would lead to it, and so on. In this manner I convert the effect into an end, and the cause into a means to obtain that end. We may say, therefore, that mental modifications, which stand to each other in the relation of ends and means, are series, the con- stituents of which are the same as those of causal series, only re- versed. A special consideration is due to those series of ends and means by which our muscles come into play, that is, those primitive forces by which we are enabled to act with our body in the external world. So soon as the infant succeeds in grasping and bringing fruit to his mouth, that is, in using the motion of his arms as a means to obtain the fruit, he acquires with this act a vestige in his muscular forces, which enters into a combination with the conception of the fruit. The perception of another fruit excites again this muscular action. The child again reaches for it and again acquires a vestige of this motion, which unites with the. first, so that, after repeated exercises, the child becomes quite expert in this kind of muscular action. The perception, desire and muscular motion grow by this repeated co-existence in consciousness into a lasting union, so that the latter is used as a means to obtain the end whenever it is desired and obtainable. In this 94 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. way all our various muscular actions and dexterities are acquired; and they all form more or less extensive connections with perceptions, desires or aversions, in consequence of which the former become the means for realizing the other, and thus is it that the mind becomes capable of acting through the body upon the outer world. 41. To Wish and To Will. I want to have my room warm, because I feel cold. The chilly sensation creates a desire for warmth. Warmth, then, is the object I wish to obtain. What now will be the mental processes which must ensue in consequence of this desire? Desires consist mainly of primitive forces which retain pre- dominantly their original conative power. To them other primitive forces join in preference, as to their similars (32), which not only increase the conative power of these striving forces, but spread also to those mental modifications which, by repeated co-existence in consciousness, have been joined in a lasting combination. When I, therefore, want to ob- tain the end — a warm room — these elements will necessarily excite into consciousness all those mental modifications which will serve as means to obtain that end. I shall, therefore, find (and every body else would experience the same) that they excite into consciousness the mental modi- fications of a stove, of wood, of coal, of matches, and of all the muscular actions necessary for the kindling of the fire ; or if I had a servant, of the muscular motions necessary to call that servant. In short, I find my desire for warmth excites into consciousness the whole series of ends and means, by reversing the causal series "that fire makes warm." But this is not all that is necessary to constitute a mental process in consequence of which I could say : I will have my room heated. Take, for example, the possibility that there were no stove in my room ; or that I had no wood, or coal, or matches in my possession ; or that by disease I were unable to kindle the fire, and had nobody to do it for me; could I then say, I will have my room heated ? Surely not ; I SIMILAR VOLITIONS COALESCE — ACTION. 95 could merely wish it. This is the difference: In order to will it, it is not sufficient that a correct series of ends and means should rise into consciousness. I must know also beforehand that these means can be realized by me. If I am, therefore, in the possession of all the means of kindling the fire, either myself or of having it done by somebody else, I may say: I will have my room heated. If, however, I cannot be con- vinced beforehand of the possible realization of my desire, I can only wish it. An act of willing, or a volition, is, therefore, quite a complicated mental process. It requires : 1. A desire in connection with mobile primitive forces, which cause — 2. An excitation into consciousness of all the means by which the desired object may be obtained, and — 3. The full conviction, beforehand, that the desired object can be obtained by us, because we know ourselves in possession, not only of the means, but also of the ability to apply those means for that purpose. If we are in want of the third condition we may wish but cannot will. This is the difference between wishing and willing. A few years ago no sane person could will to go to California within the space of seven days. To-day we can will it, Some years ago we could only wish to get news to us from Europe in the space of a few hours. To-day we can will it. Writing requires certain dexterities. So soon as we have acquired those dexterities, we can will to write ; but can these dexterities enable us to will to draw, to play on the piano, to play the violin, or to dance f Surely not. Each particular act of willing requires also a particular series of ends and means. 42. Similar Volitions Coalesce. — Action. We know, from previous explanations, that all that origi- nates in the mind, with at least some perfection, remains as vestiges ; consequently acts of willing or volitions remain as vestiges also ; and as we further know that all similar elements coalesce, so also must volitions, as they originate, one after the 96 THE SPHERE OF CONATION". other, coalesce with the vestiges of former similar volitions. However, this needs some explanation. A volition consists of a desire and a series of ends and means. Now, these two constituents may and mostly have originated quite independently of each other. One may have a desire and also possess the series of ends and means by which to ob- tain the desired object, and yet there may not originate a voli- tion in his mind, simply because these two constituents do not unite in consciousness. Of what use is it, if one has the desire to make an egg stand upon its end, if he does not remember, at the same time, that slightly cracking its top will accomplish his purpose? He may wish to accomplish this feat, like the professors of Salamanca ; but Columbus could will it, as in him alone both the desire and the necessary series of ends and means had united in simultaneous consciousness. Now every boy can will it, because, having heard of it, both constituents of this volition have been united by a connecting vestige in con- sequence of their co-existence in consciousness. An actual volition, then, is a joining of a desire and its corresponding- series of ends and means in one conscious act. Each repeti- tion of such or a similar volition produces a new connecting vestige between its two constituents, and thus volitions de- velop, by repetition, into prompt and dexterous action, con- stituting that feature of man which we call practical. Action is the immediate result of desires or aversions, conjoined with the necessary series of ends and means. The firmer this junc- tion between the two has been established, b}' repeated like or similar processes, the more readily will be the execution of such volitions — a most important point, which never ought to be lost sight of in the education of children. For, if these series of ends and means do not become excited with the desire, the effect is the same as if they were wanting, and a state of helplessness originates in the mind. "My dear father," says Bonstetten, in his autobiography, "forbade all our servants to do things for me w T hich I could do for myself. This soon gave me a feeling of independence, and made me find out many contrivances. In this independence I have remained all my life." THE WILL OF MAN. 97 43. The Will of Man. The will is said to be the power of the mind of determining or deciding what it will do, and of putting forth volitions accordingly. This is rather a vague definition. If it means to consider the multifarious volitions in the abstract, it may be applied conditionally to the developed will ; but it leaves entirely unexplained how this power originates and gradually grows in the mind, or in other words, of what this power actually consists. A clear exposition of its nature must also explain why the will can act contradictorily so often in one and the same person; why, for example, to-day it wills this and to-morrow something else; and why, in fickle-minded persons, it can change so often even in an hour, and frequently in opposite directions. To explain all these apparent difficul- ties and contradictions, we need only refer to what we have thus far elicited by our investigations. We know that so soon as a desire is joined in consciousness by a corresponding series of ends and means, and we can be convinced beforehand of our ability to use these means to attain the end (in short, if we can, w r ith conviction, expect the realization of our desire), we will ; and if such similar processes are performed repeatedly, we gain a volition in this particular direction which remains as a vestige. If wq now inquire how many such single volitions may have originated in a developed mind, we might find it a difficult task to determine their num- ber, because each desire may, under the known conditions (41), result in an act of willing, and hj a repetition become a volition, ready at any moment to be recalled into activity. We may surely say that in the developed mind volitions have gradually originated in great numbers. It is not difficult to prove this from history and from daily experience. When King Saul was pleased by David on account of his skilful playing on the harp and his courageous fight with Goliath, he would have him always about his person. Afterward, when Saul became much depressed in spirits, and the loud praise of the people roused suspicion in his mind against David, he in- tended to kill him. Later again, when Saul had experienced 98 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. the magnanimity of David in the cave, he ceased to pursue him, which quiet of mind, however, lasted only until new sus- picions arose against David. We see that in Saul's mind had originated various and opposite acts of willing or volitions. This alternation of will we find to be more or less the case in all men. We are often surprised at finding a benevolent man acting harshly toward others, and a good and obedient child become all at once headstrong and contrary. The explanation of such contradictory mental states is simply this: Acts of willing originate in desires (41). Desires are formed in great va- riety, according as this or another thing acts pleasurably upon us (26). It is no wonder, then, that acts of willing or volitions origi- nate likewise in great variety, and that we frequently find volitions of an opposite nature in one and the same individual. All tfiese various volitions, taken collectively, as they have gradually originated in the mind, constitute what we call the will of man. Man's will is, therefore, not at all a simple power, which can determine or decide what man will do, but is made up of quite numerous single volitions or acts of willing. Just exactly as the understanding consists of all the notions and ideas devel- oped in the mind (17), and the power of judgment or reason of all the vestiges which have originated in the single acts of judging and inferring (18), so also is the will of man the sum of the single acts of willing or volitions which gradually have been, and continually are, acquired in the way above stated, and which re- main as vestiges in the mind. Furthermore, we observe that the will grows stronger in proportion as the desires, by frequent repetition, assume the character of inclinations, propensities, and passions (29) ; provided these modifications have entered into an efficient connection with their corresponding series of ends and means ; and also that it grows in extent in the pro- portion in which volitions originate under the known con- ditions. Thus the will of man is continually growing, not only in power, but also in extent. It can never be considered as wholly finished or completed at any one time, and least so in the child. A power it can be called only in abstracto, as far as single acts of volitions have developed, and have remained SUMMARY. 99 as vestiges in the mind. In reality it is the sum of all voli- tions actually existing in the mind. It remains to be observed that aversions form also, to a large extent, part of the will. For, although an aversion consists in a striving against, and not, like a desire, in a striving toward something, 34 shows clearly that, notwithstand- ing this, the nature of both is the same, a manifestation of the conative power of the primitive forces. As aversions frequently combine with series of ends and means to keep off the dis- pleasing objects, their relation with what is termed the will of man is quite obvious. An excellent article " On the Nature and Development of the Will of Man," by Dressier, is found in Diesterweg's Pseda- gogiscJien Jahrbuche auf 1861. 44. Summary. I. The primitive forces of the human soul. They are conative in their nature, because they are living soul. This conation is a tendency or striving toward repletion with corresponding external stimuli in general, but not a striving for special objects (24). When the primitive forces are developed by pleasurable stimulation, their general conation is changed into a striving after stimuli of a special kind (in short, converted into a special desire). (26). How far other than pleasurable stimulation is capable of producing desires is demonstrated in 27. Among the qualities of the primitive forces, acuteness and vivacity especially are most favorable for the formation of de- sires, while their tenacity rather tends to prevent such forma- tions. Still a certain degree of it is quite indispensable for the formation of inclinations and passions (30). Upon the formation of aversions also, the qualities of the primitive forces bear the same influence (37). So long as the primitive forces are not definitely changed by external stimuli, they are free and mobile — that is, capable of flowing to and combining with the developed mental modifica- tions which they excite into consciousness. Thus originate 100 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. voluntary excitations in consciousness (30 and 31). If they are only partially modified, they also retain their mobility and cause involuntary excitation into consciousness (31). II. External stimuli. The quantitative relation of external stimuli to the primitive forces is of a five-fold nature, and may produce an insufficient, full, pleasurable, satiating, or painful stimulation (25). The vestiges of these various stimulations form the foundation of the various characters, moods, tempers, and peculiarities of the developed mind (25). According to their quantitative rela- tion the external stimuli cause various kinds of development of the primitive forces; it is the most perfect by full, the least perfect by painful stimulation (25). Only the full and pleasurable stimuli perfect the primitive forces. The other modes of stimulation exert a weakening influence. Thus originate strong and weak modifications (33) ; and we learn to consider things as either good or evil, accord- ing to their impressions upon us (38). III. The fundamental processes in the mind. 1. The transformation of primitive forces by external stimuli, which is an origination in the human soul of sensations and per- ceptions in consequence of impressions from the external world. In short, all that once with some perfection has originated in the mind, remains as a vestige or vestiges. This law we have also found substantiated throughout the sphere of conation. 2. The attraction of like to like, which is a constant union in the human soul of like with like and similar with similar. This law shows its action in the fusion of single similar desires into inclinations, propensities and passions (29); of single similar aversions into disinclinations, repugnance, and detestations (36), and of single similar acts of willing into volitions (42). Of what does the will of man consist? How far does the will reach in extent (43) ? 3. The diffusion of mobile elements — a constant flowing of mobile elements from, one mental modification to another, thus causing con- tinual transmutation of our mental modifications from delitescence into conscious excitation, and vice versa (32). SUMMARY. 101 In consequence of this process originate aversions. How do aversions differ from desires (34) ? Aversions are frequently attended with pain, and are then more violent than usual — painful emotions (35). By the same process also originate combinations of dissim- ilar mental modifications into groups and series, the mobile elements constituting connecting vestiges between the single and dissimilar members (39). Two of the most important series are those which constitute cause and effect, and end and means (40). If, by the diffusion of mobile elements, a desire is joined with a series of ends and means, and if we can be convinced before- hand of the possible realization of our desire, we will If, however, we cannot be convinced beforehand of the possible realization, we can merely wish (41). What is the will of man (42) ? The whole series of investigations has proven, like the previous series, that even the most complex of our mental acts, so far as we have considered them, originate from the same primitive forces and external stimuli, in consequence of the fundamental processes above stated. All desires, aversions, volitions, and acts of wishing, we have clearly traced to the primitive forces ; all groups and series in their most varied combinations, all pleasurable and painful modifications, are also the result of the operation of external stimuli upon the primitive forces. Further investigations will enlarge our views still more in the same direction. PART III. THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 45. During our Waking State there are Always Two or More Mental Modifications, either Simultaneously or Successively Excited into Consciousness. This proposition is easily proved. While reading, for in- stance, the several ideas which the words represent are roused into consciousness, and frequently other ideas in addition. While engaged in conversation or listening to a lecture, all the ideas corresponding to the words heard rise into conscious- ness. Even while alone, with stillness and darkness around us, when no external stimuli act upon us, we ma}' be, and usually are, full of thought. We often observe in such loneliness quite a tumultuous agitation of the mind, that may entirely prevent us from going to sleep, or may drive the timid almost to despair. It might be difficult to always define the number of mental modifications arising in quick succession in consciousness, or the velocity with which they follow one upon the other. The velocity of thought depends upon the degree of vivacity of the primitive forces; and, as vivacity varies in different persons, the rapidity of excitation in con- sciousness necessarily varies. Attempts to define the velocity of thought in numbers can give, therefore, only approxi- mate results. Still, time is required for the excitation of vestiges into consciousness, and in some persons it takes so long that their best thoughts become after-thoughts ; while, in (102) MENTAL MODIFICATIONS DIFFER. 103 others, the most complex mental processes often roll off with astonishing celerity. In the quiet hours of life, which are by far the most numerous, we do not observe such hasty rushing of mental modifications. The modifications then take a more even and quiet course. But we always find, if we pay any attention at all to what happens in the mind, that the excitation into consciousness is never confined to one modification alone, but extends over several, either simultaneously or successively. 46. All Mental Modifications Differ More or Less from Each Other. " Whenever a sufficient number of similar vestiges have united for us to have a clear consciousness of the object from which the external elements were obtained — although the external object be no longer present — we have a conception of that object" (10). This union of similar vestiges belongs to all conceptions. But the conception we have of a red color has originated from altogether different stimuli than the one we have of the^ree^; and the conception of the word "green" has again originated, not only from different external stimuli (stimuli of sound), but also in different primitive forces (those of hearing). The conception of " hard," again, has its origin in the primitive forces of touch and external stimuli cor- responding thereto, etc. So far we may say that all our con- ceptions differ more or less from each other. We may trace this difference still farther. No two conceptions will consist of exactly the same number of vestiges, neither will the quantum of external stimuli, by which they have been formed, ever be alike, one having grown out of full, another out of nearly full, another out of pleasurable stimulations, etc. ; and this difference in genesis necessarily gives each mental modi- fication a different character. Concepts, judgments and inferences originate from single per- ceptions and conceptions. If, now, as we have seen, all con- ceptions differ greatly from each other, it is easy to conceive that the more complex mental modifications, which have grown out of the conceptions, must have still greater mutual 104 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. difference. All concepts are similar only so far as they are a combination of the similar elements of different perceptions (or conceptions) in one act of consciousness (15). Concepts differ, however, in many respects. One has originated from one kind, another from a different kind of stimuli ; one out of a great number of single perceptions, another out of a few ; one out of perceptions which are characterized by great rich- ness of external stimuli, another out of perceptions of an opposite nature. The same holds good as regards judgments and syllogisms. If we compare single desires, we find that they correspond with each other so far as they arise from pleasur- able stimulations (26). But a merely superficial consideration of their formation must teach, that the transformation of primitive forces into desires will take place with some on a larger, with others on a smaller scale ; that with some it will go on rapidly, and with others slowly, and thus cause great variety among the single desires. We must also add that two desires must necessarily differ in the object they strive for, and that each one may have grown out of different quanti- tative relations between the external stimuli and the primitive forces (25). In regard to aversions the same is true (34, 35), as the vari- ous quantitative relations cause still greater variations between them. It is also true of inclinations, repugnancies, passions, etc. They are still more complex modifications. This fact gives room for the greatest variety in the quantity and quality of their vestiges. An act of ivill always requires a desire (41). If, now, all desires differ from each other, then the difference between single acts of willing must be still greater, because each single act of will requires also its special series of ends and means (41). These facts prove clearly that all our mental modifications differ more or less from each other. There are, in fact, no two modifications which can be considered entirely alike. Indeed, if they were alike they would cease to be two, as, by the law of attraction of like to like, the two would fuse into one (9). Not only must they differ in regard to the external stimuli (their objective side), and in regard to the primitive forces FEELINGS. 105 (their subjective side), which are differently developed by the various quantitative relations of external stimuli (25), but also in regard to the number of vestiges of which they consist (in accordance with which some are stronger, clearer, etc., than others). We find a similar diversity among objects in the ex- ternal world. Among the billions of things there are no two which can be considered entirely alike. 47. When Two or More Mental Modifications are Pres- ent Together in Consciousness, we immediately Become Conscious of their Difference. — Feelings. a. When we go out of a close room into the fresh air we feel refreshed. b. When, on the other hand, we enter another room just as close as the one we have left, or go from the fresh air into the fresh air, we have no such feeling. How is this to be explained? Analyzing these cases we find (1) that in both there are two mental modifications excited into consciousness — namely, in a, the perceptions of closeness of the atmosphere and fresh air ; in b, the perceptions of closeness of the atmosphere and close- ness of atmosphere, or fresh air and fresh air; (2) that in a there is a great difference between the two perceptions simulta- neously excited ; in b there is no such difference ; and (3) that in a we feel refreshed, in b not. Why did this feeling originate in a and no feeling originate in b f There was not the slight- est hindrance in the latter case, nor the slightest additional prpceeding in either case. There was in a simply a perception of " fresh air," excited in close conjunction with a perception of " close air," and we would become conscious of the difference at once. To express it otherwise, with the consciousness of the two different perceptions we had immediately a third per- ception: The feeling — i. e., the consciousness — of the difference, which necessarily was a feeling of refreshment, because in this property fresh air differs from close air, and only from close air ; for in b there were likewise two perceptions excited into consciousness, and still there was no distinct feeling springing 8 106 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OK SPHERE OP THE PEELINGS. from tliem. The reason is obvious. Consciousness can dis- cover no difference-between the two. All like and similar modi- fications must coalesce into one, according to the law of the attraction of like to like (9), and therefore no feeling can originate. We come thus to this conclusion : A feeling can originate only ivhen several (at least two) mental modifications which differ from each other are excited into consciousness, either simultaneously or in quick succession. This difference is immediately arid of itself 'pre- sented to our consciousness ; and it is just this immediate and con- comitant consciousness of the difference between mental modifica- tions, simultaneously excited, that ice call a feeling. Like modifications produce no feelings, neither do like sen- sations; they simply remain what they are. It is clear that the word u feeling " is here used in an entirely different sense from that in which it was used in 1. There "feeling" designates some classes of primitive forces; here it means what some psychological writers have also termed sen- sibility. I do not think this latter word an improvement. The Anglo-Saxon term " feeling" is decidedly the better, since the psychological result is surely a feeling. A consciousness of the difference between several mental modifications has nothing to do with the senses. 48. Factors of Feelings. A feeling can originate only when diverse (at least two) mental modifications are excited into consciousness, either simultaneously or in quick succession (47). Let us think of a man vividly impressed by his present cir- cumstances, and let these circumstances be the urgent need of money. So long as these modifications alone are excited in his consciousness, he will undoubtedly have no painful per- ception of his state, as we, indeed, find thousands of people live contentedly year in year out under just such conditions. We say : " They don't know any better," and this opinion contains a great deal of truth. Take the case differently, and suppose the man above mentioned has formerly lived in FACTORS OF FEELINGS. 107 better circumstances, that he therefore knows of better circum- stances, and we shall find that he cannot help bringing his former better circumstances (pleasurable excitations) into a simultaneous consciousness with his present poor circum- stances (painful excitations). What will be the consequence? Contentedness will vanish ; he will have a feeling of pain. This feeling originates simply in this way : He measures, if I may figuratively express it, his present circumstances with those he formerly enjoyed, and thus becomes aware of the difference of the two conditions during their co-existence in consciousness. For better understanding we may call the modifications in which others are measured, the basis of an act of feeling, or the measure by which the difference is felt. In the above instance the recollection of former better times is, therefore, the basis or measure by which the present poor circumstances are measured, or with which they are compared. Both the measure and the measured — that is, the basis, and what has been felt, measured or compared on this basis — are the factors or elements of an act of feeling. They need not, however, be always a consciousness of a single perception, as cited in the first example of close and fresh air. Complex mental modifi- cations produce the same effect so soon as they are measurable or comparable. Let us, for the sake of further explanation, suppose that the man above mentioned has regained a state of prosperity. What will now be his feelings? We may mark out three different possibilities : 1. The consciousness of his former better circumstances forms the basis on which the recent prosperous condition is meas- ured. As the difference between the two is not great, the recent lucky turn cannot produce a very marked feeling. It will leave him in quiet content. 2. The consciousness of his former poor circumstances forms the basis on which his present prosperous condition is meas- ured. This will undoubtedly cause a feeling of joy, inas- much as his present condition is a pleasurable excitation com- pared with the former. 108 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 3. His present prosperous condition remains latent in con- sciousness, and his former prosperous state rises as a basis for comparison with the poverty that followed. In this case he will have the same feeling of pain that he had before. This pain fastened to the past is common even in a prosperous condition. Why? Because in the time of his suffering, both his former prosperous condition and his following poor one rose so frequently into consciousness, that they became bound together by mobile elements into groups or series (38). So long as tliis connection lasts, it will produce the identical feeling to which it first gave rise. With some persons this feeling, never having been very strong, does not seem to have a pro- tracted duration ; and their present happy time occupies so entirely their thoughts, that their former condition can rise but faintly into consciousness. By and by the combination in consciousness between their former prosperous and their following poor condition dissolves altogether, the single factors are drawn into other combinations, and thus the old feeling of pain ceases entirely. We may say, therefore, that a feeling endures only so long as its factors remain combined in groups or series. When, however } the simidtaneous consciousness of the factors — the measure and the measured — is interfered with, or the connection between the two is broken, the feeling, which is the consciousness of the difference between the two, must likewise cease. Thus we come to the very important fact that feelings differ materially from conceptions and conations. The latter, both of them, endure as independent vestiges. The feelings, however, endure only so far as their factors have become united by mobile elements into firm groups or series; for they consist, as we have seen, only in the consciousness of the difference between the several mental modifications during their conscious excitation. Thus it follows that feelings are not a new Jcind of mental modification, but only a particular mode of consciousness — a consciousness of the difference between diverse modifications, so long as they are in a state of co-excitation. The one acts then as a basis upon which the other is lifted into the foreground. As in a picture, the prominent parts appear as such only because of the surrounding shades. That modi- EXTENT OF THE FEELINGS. 109 fication which acts as basis — the measure — is usually the least prominent in consciousness; but that which is measured is foremost in consciousness, and this gives rise to the feeling. We find, therefore, that a white object appears still whiter beside a less white object; and so a pleasurable stimulation is felt in a higher degree when it co-exists with a less pleasurable modi- fication. If both modifications are excited with equal strength, each of them may produce a separate feeling, in so far as each may act as basis for the other; or both may produce a mixed feeling, so far as neither is taken as a distinctive basis. Thus we frequently have a feeling of joy mingled with grief, or feel pleasure and pain following each other alternately. Now that we understand the nature of feelings, their great variability according to the continual change of mental modi- fications in consciousness, by which new groups and series perpetually originate, it may be easily understood why in the old psychologies there is such a confusion in regard to these mental phenomena. Some psychologists deny them the rank of a separate class of mental powers, while others (since Kant) give them the same rank with cognitions and conations. Still more confused we find the attempts to classify them. Although a great deal of labor has been spent upon the elucidation of feelings, nowhere do we find an analysis which even approxi- mately demonstrates what they consist of and by what mental processes they originate. This work has been performed by Beneke, and the following will prove still more how wonder- fully keen his observations were in solving the most obscure mental phenomena. 49. Extent of the Feelings — Their Freshness or Vividness. During our waking state there are always several mental modifications, either simultaneously or successively, in a state of excitation (45), and all mental modifications differ more or less from each other (46). If now, as has been shown in 47, we immediately become conscious of the difference between mental modifications which are excited simultaneously into consciousness, it follows that we cannot be without feelings for 110 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. a single moment of our life. Is this confirmed by experience? Seemingly not. What particular feeling has the reader while perusing these pages, where a great number of different mental modifications have risen into consciousness ? If he considers this question superficially, he will answer " None." Indeed, this is a case where modifications rise into conscious- ness, which are neither of a pleasurable nor of a painful character, as is the case with our ordinary conceptions. This is natural enough, for where there is no marked difference between the single modifications, there, of course, cannot arise a consciousness of any ; or, in other words, we cannot have a marked feeling of a difference during the consciousness of modifications between which there is no marked difference. Still, even at times similar to the illustration, we are not entirely without feeling. This is necessary ; for if there be a difference, ever so small, this difference must be felt, and a closer observation makes it evident. We find that when a concept is excited in conjunction with a perception, we have a feeling of greater clearness ; for just by its greater clearness the concept differs from a mere perception (16) ; and if some new ideas have been presented to our mind, we have the feeling of their new T ness. It is equally true that no one can mistake a perception for a desire, a desire for an aversion, a recollection for a perception, determination for fickle-mindedness, courage for fear, etc., because the difference of all these modifications makes itself felt immediately. Although, in the language of common life, only manifestations of the more marked and striking differences are called feelings, a closer observation must also assign those manifestations which have less marked differences to the class of feelings. We find, therefore, that this class of mental developments extends as far as there are any mani- festations of difference between simultaneously excited mental modifications. Of course the difference between the feelings as regards their strength is very obvious. Some are stronger than others. Some feelings are often so little marked that their character to the superficial observer as feelings is lost altogether. He who always enjoys health does not usually esteem its CONCEPTION, DESIRE AND FEELING. Ill value. After a spell of sickness, however, he feels quite differ- ently about it. The rich man does not value the gain of a few dollars, while such a gain would delight a poor man. All feelings concur in this : Tlie greater the difference between modi- fications simultaneously excited, the stronger, fresher, or more vivid is the feeling; while the less this difference, the weaker or fainter is the feeling ; or, as it might otherwise be expressed, the greater the difference between mental modifications simultaneously excited, the greater is the vividness with which this difference manifests itself 50. The Same Mental Process may be Conception, De- sire and Feeling at the Same Time. Suppose we see a fine picture or hear a good piece of music. In both cases we gain a conception of what we see or hear. At the same time we are pleasurably excited by sight or hearing, because the impressions we realize from the picture or the music are of a richer nature than the other things we see or hear at that time. This difference at once manifests itself in a corresponding feeling of pleasure. If, now, the picture be car- ried away or the music cease, it is quite natural that we should want to look at the picture once more, or to have the music repeated ; proving that the primitive forces have retained some of their conative power, which now is converted into a desire for these special stimulants. The seeing of the picture or the hearing of a piece of music has had, therefore, the following three-fold effect upon us: (1) So far as the primitive forces have been definitely changed by the external stimuli, a conception has orig- inated of what we have seen or heard ; (2) as this conception differed from the other conscious mental modifications we happened to have at that time, this difference manifested itself immediately as a feeling ; and (3) as the primitive forces retained their conative power, a desire has originated for a renewal of the same impressions. Thus we see that the same mental process — the seeing of a picture or the hearing of a piece of music — may result in a conception, a feeling, and a desire at the same time. This is quite frequently the case. We have seen in 28 that an act of desire is at the same time 112 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. an act of conception. In order that the same act may be also one of feeling, nothing is required but the co-existence of other modifications in consciousness, from which it differs. The immediate manifestation of this difference is the feeling. If, for instance, I desire an apple, I have, at the same time, a conception of it, and so far as an apple, compared with many other eatables, has caused in me a fuller stimulation, this con- ception manifests itself as a pleasurable feeling. We see thus that the same mental process can be of a three-fold nature — a conception, a desire, and a feeling. Usually one of these forms preponderates more or less over the others. Conception, desire, and feeling are, therefore, only three different forms of one and the same mental process. They originate in the same primitive forces and stimuli. The form of feeling requires merely the co-existence of other mental modifications in con- sciousness, as a basis whereupon the present impression can be measured. 51. Feelings of Pleasure and Pain. — Difference be- tween Sensation, Feeling and Perception. When external stimuli act in greater abundance upon the primitive forces than the latter require for their development, we have an immediate feeling of pleasure (25). We can now see why this must be so. The present plentiful stimulation follows or meets in consciousness other modifications of a less pleasur- able character, which act as a basis upon w T hich it is meas- ured. The greater agitation of the primitive forces caused by this abundance of external stimuli, compared with but ordinary developments, manifests itself as a feeling of pleasure. This is the difference between them. Now, there are also pleasurable sensations. What is the difference between them and pleasurable feelings? Sensations are understood by the new^ psychology only as simple actions of the senses, where unmodified primitive forces are acted upon by corresponding external stimuli, without the accession of simi- lar vestiges previously acquired. Such an act is almost with- out consciousness, as w T e observe in the new-born child. Only FEELINGS OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 113 by repeated actions of similar external stimuli upon cor- responding primitive forces, and the union of their vestiges into homogeneous aggregates, does the full consciousness of the same originate (9, 10) and the mind become gradually enriched with a great number of conscious modifications. But even then new impressions of external stimuli continue to act upon single corresponding primitive forces, and these acts would, indeed, continue to be mere obscure sensations through life, if it were not for the accumulated similar vestiges wmich are excited with each successive sensation, thus augmenting the embryonic consciousness of the mere sensation and con- verting it into a full conscious perception (12). We may say, therefore, that perceptions are sensations which receive their full consciousness from the aggregates of similar vestiges previously acquired. In short, perceptions are multiplied sensa- tions. Consider this course of reasoning with reference to pleas- urable sensations also. Pleasurable sensations differ from non- pleasurable only in this : They originate in a fuller afflux of external stimuli (25). If, now, the present pleasurable sensation excites the vestiges of former similar pleasurable stimulations, it at once partakes of the degree of consciousness w T hich is a property of these multiple vestiges, and thus becomes converted into a pleasurable perception. Now, if at the same time as such an act of pleasurable sensation occurs, other non- pleasurable modifications are likewise present in consciousness, the latter will serve as basis for comparison between them and the higher excitation of the pleasurable perception. The abundance of external stimuli will become manifest as a pleasurable feeling. There is, then, between a sensation of pleasure and a per- ception of pleasure, no other difference than that wdrich exists between a sensation and a perception in general. The pleas- urable sensation is a single act of union between abundant external stimuli and corresponding primitive forces. As such it is already a feeling, although of the very faintest kind, a feeling in degree corresponding to its elementary conscious- ness. The perception of pleasure, on the contrary, is a full, con- scious modification during advanced development, such as at 114 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. the commencement of mental life never exists. Only by re- peated pleasurable sensations do pleasurable perceptions origi- nate ; and they produce actual feelings of pleasure only by the above-explained measurement or comparison with other men- tal modifications. In the new-born soul all sensorial activities are, therefore, sensations; while in the developed mind they result in perceptions and feelings. But even in the developed mind such sensations, no doubt, take place, since their similar vestiges are not in all instances excited into consciousness. This is the case especially when w T e receive entirely new im- pressions, or where the impressions are of a very fleeting character, or w T here the consciousness is concentrated upon other subjects. These sensations endure, as w r e shall see in 70, in their elementary character. In common language the concepts sensation, perception and feeling (of pleasure) are usually confounded. All that manifests itself either as pleasure or pain is called, indiscriminately, sen- sation or feeling. Such an ambiguous use of words ought to be confined, however, only to manifestations in the lower senses. Here it might be admissible to speak of sensations, because none of the modifications arising in these senses ever attain a very great clearness (8). Their reproductions are al- ways obscure, and therefore might be designated by either term indifferently. In paragraph 38, and in other places, it has been showm that in reality there is no line of demarcation between the quantum of external stimuli constituting a full or a pleasurable stimula- tion. We cannot say that just so much external stimuli pro- duce a full, and just so much produce a pleasurable, stimula- tion. From this fact it follows that there must also exist a great difference between the different pleasurable feelings ; and this truth is already indicated by the different expressions w r e have to signify different degrees of pleasurable feelings, such as : " Pleasure, joy, delight, rapture, enchantment, ec-' stacy," etc. The mode by which pleasurable sensations are converted into feelings, is the same by which all other sensations take the same form. Where the quantum of external stimuli is FEELINGS OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 115 too scanty for the capacity of the primitive forces, we have forces side by side which are partly developed and partly not. This of itself must cause a sensation of non-satisfaction. But when this insufficient stimulation, and the vestiges of former similar insufficient stimulations, are aroused into consciousness (as is usually the case), and at the same time also modifications of fuller stimulations, with which they can be measured, then the mere sensation will at once be converted into a decided feel- ing of non-satisfaction. In cases of satiating stimulation we feel the increase of ex- ternal stimuli in its relation to the primitive forces as a grad- ual over-stimulation, causing a sensation of satiety or loathing. If, however, as is usually the case, this sensation excites the vestiges of previous similar stimulations, and is measured upon the basis of other more perfect modifications existing in con- sciousness at the same time, we have a clear feeling of satiety or loathing. Lastly, in cases where the primitive forces are sud- denly overwhelmed by too great a quantum of external stimuli, we have a feeling of pain, which becomes stronger in propor- tion as more numerous similar vestiges are drawn into the process, and are measured on more perfect modifications excited at the same time. Simple irritation of primitive forces causes only a dull sensation of pain. The feelings of non-satisfaction, satiety and pain, may be comprised under the general term " feelings of pain," and their opposites under the term " feelings of pleasure." In this nomenclature we take the word " pain " in its widest sense. What we have said of the pleasurable feelings, is equally applicable to feelings of pain. They have within themselves no sharp line of demarcation. They gradually merge into one another, and it is possible that a weak painful feeling, in the presence of one more powerful, may lose entirely its pain- ful character, " dolor dolorem solvit," or may be felt even as pleasure. We see thus that the difference between pleasure and pain, as with other mental modifications, arises for the most part from the peculiar development which the primitive forces receive from the varied quantitative relation of the external 116 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. stimuli to them. This varied development of the primitive forces endures as independent vestiges, and forms their peculiar pleasurable or painful character, a kind of development which, by the law of the attraction of like to like, grows gradually into conscious modifications, and these, in the presence of other measurable modifications, produce actual feelings of pleasure or pain. A conscious feeling would not be possible without these peculiar fundamental developments of the primitive forces — that is, without that peculiar painful or pleasurable character which they have received from the varied quantitative rela- tions of the external stimuli. It is this varied quantitative relation of the external stimuli that constitutes the basis of all kinds of moods, dispositions and characters of the developed mind. 52. The Same Stimulation Does not Always Cause the Same Feeling. Some patients cannot bear the common light of day, or the sound of ordinary talking, or even the touch of the bedclothes. Why is this ? The stimuli cannot be the cause, or other people would be equally affected by them. The reason must be looked for in a peculiar condition of the patient's primitive forces. These forces are undoubtedly weakened by disease, or, what is perhaps the most frequent occurrence in such cases, the bodily organs are diseased, and in these organs, that is in the lowest or vital senses, originate the painful sensations. That this explanation is the true one, we see when the patient becomes well — that is, when the primitive forces of the higher or of the vital senses have regained their normal energy. The same stimuli in health do not cause the over-stimulation noticed in disease. Whether, therefore, this feeling or another be caused by the same stimuli, depends, 1, upon the condition of the primitive forces and their sensory organs. Furthermore. When a poor man has a chance to satisfy his hunger with a frugal meal, it causes a decided pleasurable feeling in him ; another, who is accustomed to a daily rich table, might feel rather disappointed by such a style of fare. STIMULATION AND CAUSE OF FEELING. 117 One who is brought up in a large city is little affected by the beautiful signs, show windows, statues, etc., he sees every day, while the country boy, coming to town for the first time, is almost stunned by the new impressions he receives. The stimuli cannot be the cause of this difference. The stimuli are the same for both parties. Neither can it be the primitive forces, for in both we suppose them to be in a natural condi- tion. The cause must lie, therefore, in something else. When the poor man satisfies his appetite, he compares his present impressions with those he has received from his usual poorer quality of food, and in the comparison the present im- pressions are of a much more agreeable nature, and as such they manifest themselves immediately as a feeling of pleasure. The rich man, on the contrary, measures the impressions of a frugal meal with impressions derived from meals of richer quality, and, finding thus his present fare rather " inferior " to his accustomed mode of living, has immediately a feeling of dissatisfaction. The same is the case with the boys of city and of country breeding. The impressions which the country boy receives on coming to town differ greatly in splendor from those received in the village or on the farm, and the immediate consciousness of this difference constitutes his feel- ing of astonishment; while to the city boy all these splendid things are old acquaintances. There is no difference in the usual impressions, and, therefore, no particular feeling of astonishment. We shall find this peculiarity true in other cases. The kind of feeling impressions are capable of producing depends entirely upon the kind of mental modifications with which they are brought into conscious co-existence. Another basis, or another measure for the same impressions, gives another measurement, and thus a different feeling. Thus we find as causes for dif- ferent feelings aroused by the same impressions : 1, the condition of the primitive forces ; and, 2, the co-existent mental modifications with which the impressions are measured — other measures, other measurements, id est, other feelings. The measure or basis, it will be observed, is in all cases the least conscious modification ; the measured new impressions are the most prominent in con- sciousness and condition the feeling (48). 118 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. In this way only is it conceivable that the same object can produce at one time a pleasurable, and at another time a pain- ful feeling. 53. Feelings of the Agreeable, of the Beautiful, and the Sublime. — Their Proximate Factors. To originate agreeable, beautiful or sublime feelings, a pleasurable stimulation is always required. An abundance of external stimuli alone is not sufficient to produce them. There are required also, as we shall presently see, certain quali- ties of the primitive forces, and to these qualities a cultivated mind must add its acquired treasures to form fully the feelings of the beautiful and the sublime. When a lively piece of music is played ; when the vivid colors of a picture or a bouquet strike our eyes; when sweet odors in spring scent the atmosphere ; when we partake of a richer dinner than usual — we feel pleasurably excited. When dazzling lightning cleaves the dark clouds, and rolling thun- der shakes the earth ; when the whole ocean seems in uproar, and dashes its waves against the rock-bound coast; when on a clear night we look up to the firmament and see worlds upon worlds in the immeasurable space — we likewise feel pleasurably excited. But the difference between these feelings is vast. We call the first agreeable, the latter sublime. What, then, is the essen- tial character of each constituting this difference ? If we at present dismiss the consideration of the elements' that must be educed from the mind itself for the formation of feelings of the sublime, we see at a glance, that in the instances of the first order the excitants are of a light and vivid nature, w T hich require for their reception nothing but a sufficient de- gree of vivacity and acuteness of the primitive forces. In order, however, that these vivid impressions may result not merely in obscure sensations, it is necessary that they should find vestiges of former similar impressions, in order to attain the character of conscious perceptions (50). In the instances of the second order we find the excitants of FEELINGS OF THE AGREEABLE, ETC. , 119 a much graver, more comprehensive nature; they act, therefore, in a much weightier, steadier and slower manner upon the primitive forces. Such excitants require greater energy of the primitive forces to support and receive them; and that such impressions should result not merely in obscure sensations, but in full conscious perceptions, there is required, as in the former case, an excitation of similar impressions previously received (51). Furthermore, when the setting sun clothes the sky in purple, or the splendid colors of light appear on the sky as a rainbow; when a fine country scene spreads before our eyes, with vil- lages, woods and lakes intermingled ; when we listen to a finely executed opera of Beethoven, Mozart, etc. — we are also pleasur- ably affected. But we do not call the feelings produced there- by agreeable or sublime, we call them beautiful. Here, too, as in the above instances, the addition of similar vestiges to the present impressions is necessary to make them full, conscious acts. The excitants, however, are neither so light as in the instances of the agreeable, nor so grave and weighty as in the instances of the sublime. They stand, so to speak, between them ; act vividly, steadily, and energetically ; and require, therefore, for a thorough reception, primitive forces of correspondingly sufficient vividness and energy. From this explanation we may learn the following two things: 1. Animals may and do have sensations of the agree- able, but never attain to feelings of the beautiful or sublime (although the same stimulants act upon them as upon man)> because their primitive forces lack the energy necessary to retain a definite development as independent vestiges. It is by the simultaneous excitation of the external stimuli, and vestiges shedding all their concentrated light upon the present impressions, that a simple percipient act is elevated in man to a full, conscious act. As, however, animals often possess the qualities of acuteness and vividness in a very high degree, they undoubtedly are capable of forming various sensations of the agreeable, as daily observation teaches. 2. In man we have observed (3) that the lower senses lack energy, and thus it is intelligible why we never form the feelings of the beautiful or 120 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. the sublime in the sphere of smell, taste or vital senses. "A beautiful smell" is an exaggeration, and we never speak of a " sublime taste." But the feelings of the agreeable are very common in these senses. The feelings of the beautiful and sublime are called "aesthetic feelings" and from our former reasoning it is clear that only man, and in his higher senses, is capable of an aesthetic development. As one and the same mental act (compare 50) may be at the same time an act of conception, conation and feeling (the one or the other preponderating), it is clear that the feelings of the beautiful and sublime, of which we have spoken, are pleasurable conceptions (27), which have their root in the qualities of the primitive forces and their peculiar develop- ment in a certain quantitative relation of external stimuli to them. 54. The Remote Factors of the ^Esthetic Feelings. Thus far we have explained the origin of the feelings of the beautiful and sublime (aesthetic feelings) only superficially. We have yet to answer the following questions : What is the real nature of these feelings? Why do some persons remain entirely indifferent to the presence of a beautiful or sublime object? W T hy is it that the same aesthetic feelings are pro- duced by objects so different? Why do feelings of the sub- lime originate in some persons more easily than feelings of the agreeable ? 1. Suppose we have a violet before us, and because it has bloomed in such a quiet and hidden way we feel disposed to give it the attribute of modesty. It is clear that in this case we have ascribed to the violet something which, in fact, is derived from our own spiritual being. For whether the violet really is modest we do not know. But this much is certain, the nettle we would not call modest. We would rather feel inclined to call it impertinent, as it answers the slightest approach by a sting. Is the rose, the symbol of love, really inspired with that sentiment? Is the lily innocent? The THE REMOTE FACTORS OF THE .ESTHETIC FEELINGS. 12 L tulip haughty ? We do not know. But the impression we receive from these flowers is of such a nature that it rouses in us the conception and feeling of such attributes, and the dis- position to imagine these objects as possessed of such qualities, because their exterior, by its kind of impression upon us, corresponds with an interior of our own, and this we lend them, ascribe to them. We thus take a deeper view of them, inspire them with our own feelings and dispositions. We do this when w r e look upon the oak as an image of strength, upon the rock in the ocean as an image of constancy, upon the flow- ing stream as an image of the fleetness of human life, upon a ruin as the image of the transitoriness of earthly splendor, etc. In looking at things merely as they appear to our. senses, we receive only sensorial impressions, which may be agreeable or disagreeable. When we, however, underlie these sensorial impressions with feelings and dispositions of our own mental life, as in the foregoing instances ; when we thus deepen our views by transferring our interior life to external objects, we then consider them aesthetically. We then penetrate, so to speak, beyond their exterior, and mentally translate them as they might be in their peculiar interior constitution. Now, all which, by this combination of external and internal views, is capable of producing in us a mild, gentle pleasure, as the rose and the lily, fine country scenery, etc., we call beautiful; while all which, by a more energetic projection of our person- ality, causes an intenser feeling of pleasure, like the rock in the ocean, the starry heavens, thunder and lightning, etc., we call sublime. In the first instance our primitive forces are pleasurably excited ; in the second they are energetically exalted. This is the real nature of the aesthetic feelings. 2. What kind of persons will remain indifferent in presence of beautiful and sublime objects ? Such as are not developed sufficiently to be capable of underlaying sensorial impressions with feelings and dispositions of their own, as children and uneducated people. Children perceive only by the senses. The modifications of modesty, constancy, and innocence, have not developed into consciousness, and cannot, therefore, be combined with the mere sensorial perception of the violet, 9 122 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. rock, lily, etc. ; consequently these impressions remain merely as agreeable, and do not attain the character of beauty or sub- limity. Uneducated persons may possess these modifications, but having never been led or trained to underlie their senso- rial perceptions with personal attributes, they cannot experi- ence feelings of the beautiful and sublime, and remain, there- fore, indifferent, or at best only agreeably excited, in the presence of beautiful and sublime objects. They are aesthetically uneducated, for without special spiritual culture the appre- ciation of beauty and sublimity remains undeveloped. 3. Why is it that the same aesthetic feelings are produced by objects so different? According to 49 we know that for the production of a feeling there is a basis or measure required, whereupon a given impression can be measured. If this basis be altered, the feeling will be correspondingly altered — other measures, other measurements (52). Now, in consequence of the development of man, his earlier measures must necessarily change in the course of time. The pictures, poems, pieces of music, etc., which we considered beautiful when young, do not come up to the more perfect types we attain by advancing education. The pictures, etc., which delighted our boyhood, are now measured upon a basis so different that we wonder how it was ever possible for us to have found them beautiful. The things have not changed, our ideals have changed. The little girl imagines herself smiled upon by her doll, because she transfers her own happy state to it. A young lady of twenty has gained, through her knowledge of men and affairs, a measure altogether different — stands upon a higher plane — and this prevents her from transferring her devotions to a life- less doll. However charming its expression may be, she can- not imagine' the smiling face as endowed with life, and there- fore it ceases to be an object of beauty. Now we can understand why feelings of the beautiful and sublime may originate in different persons, even in the same person at different ages, from quite different objects ; and also w r hy the same objects, although unchanged, lose their character of beauty and sub- limity as the mind advances in culture. Persons who are charmed with works of a low artistic nature, and who do not THE REMOTE FACTORS OF THE ESTHETIC FEELINGS. 123 appreciate those of higher value, show that they are still on a low plane of mental culture. 4. Why in some persons do feelings of the sublime originate more easily than feelings of the agreeable ? Feelings of the sublime are never found in persons with weak and dull primitive forces. This formation requires a high degree of energy and acuteness (53). He who is in pos- session of such qualities will naturally acquire a rich, deep and energetic mental development. Upon the basis of such highly developed mental modifications, mere sensorial impressions will be felt as flat and common ; and thus the feelings of the agreeable, which in such cases would originate in less strongly developed minds, cannot come into existence. When, how- ever, on the contrary, such minds are acted upon by objects which, in consequence either of the kind or the abundance of their excitants, correspond to this elevated state of mind, a substratum of suitable modifications will be present, and feel- ings of the sublime will originate readily. Agreeable feelings we find, therefore, most predominant in children and persons not of very strong capacities, inasmuch as vivid and acute primitive forces are sufficient for their formation. By a cor- responding mental development, however, in consequence of a certain degree of energy of their primitive forces, persons of lesser capacity will also attain to feelings of the beautiful and sublime in their way. This beauty and sublimity, however? will be of a lower grade compared to that which develops itself in deeper minds, to whom the beauties and sublimities of the former must appear rather flat and imperfect. Still it is a necessary mental development in either case, and confirms only the truth of the old proverb : De gustibus non est dispu- tandum. Impressions acting overwhelmingly, as for instance, those produced by a heavy thunder-storm, may and do prevent in some persons the formation of aesthetic feelings altogether. Such impressions, which by their violence are capable of pro- ducing in the strong mind the sublime feeling of greatness and power, waken in the weak the consciousness of their own help- lessness to such a degree as to fill the soul with fear and terror. 124 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. Condensing the above-given explanations, we may re-state briefly the points as follows : 1. ^Esthetic feelings are the result of external impressions and internal developments. They originate in this way: Not satisfied with the mere external appearance of things, we try to penetrate into their inner being and life, by transferring our interior into theirs; id est, we imagine their inner being and life analogous to ours, and thus spiritualize mere sensorial impressions. 2. Such translations must be done correctly, that is, we must underlie objects only with such feelings and dispositions as correspond accurately with their impressions upon us, which impressions alone represent the interior of external things. 3. Nevertheless, mistakes will frequently occur in such processes, for the reason that the interior of external things remains forever hidden to us. We can merely suppose them to be endowed with certain qualities, and as each one who forms an aesthetic perception can underlie only what is in ■him, we see that the correctness of such processes depends also upon the grade of mental development to which the observer has attained. If now, as we have seen, the stand- ard of mental development has its root especially in the qualities of the primitive forces, it is easily seen that the degree of aesthetic perfection depends upon the degree of energy and acuteness one possesses in his primitive forces; but these qualities also require training and education. 4. Agreeable feelings originate without the need of such translations. They are simply the result of pleasurable stimuli, and consequently we cannot call them aesthetic feelings. Common language frequently calls beautiful that which is merely pleasant or agreeable. It is a very wide-spread disposi- tion to exaggerate pleasure as well as pain. Lower degrees of the beautiful we signify by the terms : Pretty, nice, fair, charm- ing, lovely, naive, etc. Allied to the sublime are feelings, as the noble, the dignified, the grave, the splendid, the mag- nificent, the solemn, etc. 5. ^Esthetic feelings are free from self-interest, because FEELINGS OF STRENGTH. 125 they carry satisfaction within themselves. They are pleasur- able conceptions that appease and elevate the mind, and to work them into shape and form is the artist's greatest delight. ^Esthetic feelings may, and frequently do, originate in the absence of external objects, and even painful sensations may be sublimated into aesthetic feelings, of which, however, it is not the place here to speak fully. (Compare Beneke's Pragmatische Psychologies II., p. 222 et seq.) A very excellent explanation of the aesthetic feelings may also be found in the w r ork : " Das iEsthetische nach seinem eigenthiimlichen Grundwesen und seiner paedagogischen Bedeutung darge- stellt." Eine gekronte Preisschrift von Friedrich Dittes. Leipzig, Julius Klinkhard, 1854. 55. Feelings of Strength of the Several Mental Modifications. In consequence of the attraction of like to like, each new impression is added to the vestiges of former similar impres- sions ( 6, 9, 10), thus adding to the number of similar ves- tiges previously obtained. In this respect all mental modifi- cations vary more or less. Some consist of few, others of many similar vestiges. Things which are constantly around us should, therefore, accumulate the greatest number of ves- tiges, and they do so, generally speaking, provided each new impression gives rise to a distinct change of corresponding primitive forces. However, this is not always the case. Such impressions are usually received so fleetingly that a thorough transformation of new primitive forces does not ensue, and thus it becomes intelligible why such modifications do not grow furthei in strength. What is true of common percep- tions applies equally to pleasurable conceptions and desires. The oftener these acts have been repeated, the more must the number of their vestiges have been increased, provided always that these acts were perfect enough to insure a thorough transformation. Nobody can tell the number of vestiges his several modi- fications consist of ; but by closer observation we are able to 12G THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. distinguish with tolerable certainty those modifications which consist of few, from those which consist of many vestiges. Let me illustrate: If we recall to consciousness a conception which is the product of a great number of perfect impressions, and at the same time another consisting of only a few, we will feel the difference between the two at once, the first manifesting itself as the stronger of the two. This is equally true of desires. The desire consisting of most vestiges will always predominate over another of less number of vestiges, so that if we see a man preferring to spend his last penny in the bar-room instead of saving and applying it to relieve the w T ants of his family, we may safely infer which, of his desires is the stronger, his desire for strong drink or his desire to do his duty to his family. We may say in short : That mental modification which consists of a greater number of vestiges always manifests itself with a feeling of greater strength than another consisting of a less number of vestiges, when they rise side by side into consciousness. The number of vestiges a mental modification consists of may be figuratively called its " space." Hence we may say : This mental modification fills a greater, the other a smaller, space in the soul. This term accords well with expressions of ordi- nary language, as for instance : "This one idea filled his whole soul, there w T as no room for anything else," meaning that this idea, care, or whatever it was, w T as very strong, and con- sisted of a great number of vestiges. Space and strength desig- nate then the same thing, and signify the number of vestiges of which a mental modification consists. 56. Feelings of Clearness, Indistinctness, and Obscurity of Conceptions. We all know from experience that whatever we know w r e had to learn. When the little boy sees for the first time an A, it appears to him as a rather strange figure, and remains so for a while, until many perceptions have united their similar vestiges and a clear conception of it arises in his mind. From that time on nobody could make him believe that he did not know the A, or that A sounded 0. By the union of so many CLEARNESS, INDISTINCTNESS AND OBSCURITY. 127 vestiges it has attained a clearness of consciousness, and to practice such a quid pro quo upon the boy would be a vain attempt. With a beginner in the A-B-Cs, on the contrary, we might have success. In him only a few vestiges of the A perception have arisen, which cannot possibly yet constitute a clear consciousness of the A. Compared with the conception which he has of his playthings, it is vague, indistinct, dim. Therefore we find that children, in the first few weeks of their attendance upon school, frequently confound different letters with one another. Most frequently is this the case when the teacher has been in too great haste to accomplish too quickly what naturally requires more time. Of course, the discovery of such confusion in the head of the pupil must be quite un- pleasant to the teacher; and I have no doubt that often it is unjustly attributed to the child's stupidity, while, in fact, it is entirely the teacher's fault, the instructor not understanding the nature of mental development. Such confusion is, indeed, easily explainable. Some letters have a great similarity to each other, and we know that not only the like, but also the similar, coalesce. Thus it happens that in the great hurry with which the different letters were brought before the child, the similar of the m and n, the a and o, the u and v, etc., united likewise indiscriminately in the soul of the child, thus mixing like with unlike vestiges. We find such mixtures of like and unlike vestiges often enough, even in grown people. Many are not able to distinguish lead from tin, or a composition of low metals from silver (counterfeits would otherwise have a poor chance of being brought into circulation). Others cannot discern rye from wheat, quinces from apples, hemlock from parsley, etc. Even bats have often been taken for birds and whales for fishes. In these cases there are like and unlike constituents mixed together. Only after closer investigations and comparisons could the like alone join and the unlike be separated. So long as such unlike elements are kept together for the want of better knowledge, they may manifest themselves according to the number of vestiges they consist of, with great strength ; but when closer observation shows them to be of a 128 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. mixed character, and they arise with another modification of pure composition into consciousness, they will be felt im- mediately as obscure or confused. The feeling of strength, in regard to conceptions varies, then, in this manner : A great number of like vestiges gives a feeling of clearness ; a small number of like vestiges produces a feeling of dimness, indistinctness; while a mixture of like and unlike vestiges is characterized by a feeling of obscurity or confusion. These truths are also applicable to pleasurable conceptions. 57. Valuation — Estimation of Worth. We have already in 38 seen why or when we consider ob- jects (persons and things) as good or evil. However, a very important condition, that of feeling, could not be spoken of at that stage of investigation, although acts of feeling are con- tinually associated with these processes. We will be able now to give a better insight into what is signified by the terms good and evil. Suppose a bird to be pleasurably exciting us by his color, or song. The bird causes thereby a pleasurable modification which differs from others of less full stimulation. During their co-existence in consciousness, the pleasurable modifica- tion is measured upon the basis of the other, or is felt as a fuller stimulation. It is thus elevated to & feeling of pleasure, and the object from which this pleasurable stimulation ema- nates is valued as good. If other modifications were serv- ing as basis, our valuation might be altogether different (52). However, we may say : We value an object (according to the feeling of pleasure it causes) by the kind, of impression it makes upon us, and consider it accordingly a (greater or lesser) good. Let us use fire for the purpose of illustration. Its action upon us may be so beneficent that we value it as a great good. On the other hand, it may burn us, it may destroy our prop- erty, etc., thus causing feelings of pain of greater or less intensity, and we then consider it an evil. In like manner all other things, in the degree in which they cause feelings of pain, we consider evil. VALUATION ESTIMATION OF WORTH. 129 Hence, our valuation of things depends upon their action upon us. If they cause feelings of pleasure, we value them as good ; if they cause feelings of pain, we consider them as evil; and as, according to 38, all things affect us more or less in the one way or the other (those even which produce a full stimulation), we may define the valuation of things in general as the sum of all pleasurable and painful modifications, which originate first as mere sensations in consequence of the differ- ent kinds of stimulation with which external things act upon us (25), then gradually, by multiplication, grow to self-conscious modifica- tions, which, by comparison or measurement with others, manifest themselves as feelings either of pleasure or of pain. What we call good and evil is, therefore, nothing but the feeling of the value of things and persons, caused by their kind of action upon us. So far as this action upon us (pleasurable or painful) remains in independent vestiges, its reproduction will be either a pleasurable or a painful conception. So far, however, as the primitive forces retain their conative power (compare 27 and 34), it will manifest itself either as desire or aversion. So long as our feeling of the value of things consists merely in pleasurable or painful conceptions, such conceptions do not exert any influence upon our actions. They manifest them- selves merely as acquired (pleasurable or painful) modifica- tions, and constitute in general our practical wisdom or pru- dence (in contradistinction to theoretical knowledge). When, however, our valuations of things manifest themselves in the form of desires or aversions, they become the basis, that is, the motive for our actions, which may be good or bad. Thus we see that mental modifications representing the value of things, may manifest themselves in three different forms: 1, as conceptions; or, 2, as desires or aversions; and, 3, as feeling. Feelings are the immediate consciousness of the difference between the present impression of a thing or its conception, and other modifications which are conscious at the same time. 130 the emotional sphere, or sphere of the feelings. 58. Gradation of Good and Evil. Although feelings are merely the immediate consciousness of the difference between mental modifications, nevertheless, as the factors of mental modifications during their co-existence in consciousness are conjoined by mobile elements into groups, they endure in these groups; and it therefore follows that if one factor is roused into consciousness, the other is likewise roused, and in this manner the same feeling is reproduced (39- and 48). We may speak in this way of feelings "ac- quired" ready for use. Furthermore, as each new impression modifies void primitive forces, which as new vestiges add a new supply to the similar vestiges already acquired, it is clear that by such increase of the one factor, its difference from the other must become greater. The increased factor must mani- fest- itself as increased, and the feeling, therefore, must gain in strength. This fact applies as well to the feelings of pleasure as to those of pain. Suppose, now, we meet a stranger. How shall we estimate him ? At the first instant we would estimate him as we would any other stranger. We measure his worth with the same measure we have for men in general, so long as he shows nothing extraordinary in manner or character. The impression he makes upon us corresponds to this measure- ment. But suppose w T e were thrown in his company for a longer time ; that we gradually discovered a great many good qualities in him ; or, in other words, that in the course of time he had produced in us say 1,000 pleasurable stimulations, and consequently, a pleasurable modification of 1,000 vestiges; would he not now stand much higher in our estimation than a great many other men, higher even than those of w T hom we possessed only 100 or 500 pleasurable stimulations ? Indeed, his value in our eyes would increase, just in the ratio as his influence in producing pleasurable stimulations upon us in- creases in the course of time ; for what gradually increases its beneficial influence upon us, grows in the same ratio to be gradually a higher good for us, because the multiplication of the pleasurable stimulations causes so strong a modification GRADATION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 131 that its difference from others must manifest itself as a strong feeling of pleasure. On the contrary, had this person affected us disagreeably, our valuation would be a different one. In- stead of a feeling of pleasure we would have a feeling of pain, and thus we would consider him as an evil, although we may, for all that, be far from hating him, because other modifica- tions of strength keep us above this feeling. We might, never- theless, pity his perversity and withdraw from his company ; and such a feeling would be the stronger the more unpleasant the impressions we had received from him. This is also true in other respects. If we had been unpleasantly acted upon by walking a bad road caused by rainy weather 1,000 times (I choose arbitrary numbers), and only 100 times by walk- ing a bad road caused by snow, we would surely not fancy either of them. The measure we apply for their valuation is the conception of a good dry road, and the other roadways will be felt as inferior and unpleasant. But as the first of these modifications consists of 1,000 vestiges, it would surely be felt as the stronger of the two, and we will fear a bad road caused by rain more than a bad road caused by snow, or, in other words, we consider the first as a greater evil than the second. The pioneer might laugh at us on hearing us com- plain of our dirty roads, for compared with the knee-deep mud through which he sometimes has to wade they are splendid. He applies, we see, an altogether different measure. We may say then : Whether we consider anything as a greater or lesser good or evil, depends upon the strength of the pleasurable or painful mo- dification it has caused by its action upon us, and upon the basis or measure with which it is compared. We gain thus a norm for the gradation of all good and evil. We can easily see why some persons value things highly, or consider evil, which things others look upon with perfect indifference. We can understand now why the little girl cries over the loss of her doll, in spite of its broken face ; or why some lady feels quite unhappy because her new dress does not agree entirely with the latest fashion, however absurd this fashion may be; why one man eagerly ransacks all dung-hills and jumps for joy if he has found a little, insignificant insect, or another walks for 132 miles to hunt up a small plant; why the one travels around the earth and another remains at home during his whole life- time. People often say they cannot understand how persons can enjoy certain things. True, they cannot understand it ; that is, they are not capable of appreciating the feelings which in others have conditioned the kind of valuation criticised, because these things have either not acted upon them, or not to so pleasurable a degree as they have upon the others. If such action had occurred fully the}' would very readily realize this kind of valuation, and would not wonder if in some per- sons they find great aversion to certain things upon which they themselves are accustomed to look favorably. We again come to the same result : The valuation of different things depends entirely upon the strength of the pleasurable or painful modifications they have caused by their action upon us, and the measure or basis upon which their difference is felt. 59. The Gradation of Good and Evil is the Same in all Human Beings, Because that Gradation is Con- ditioned by the Inborn Nature of the Primitive Forces. — True Valuation. In the preceding chapters we have seen how and why we learn to consider different things good or evil. In 7 we learn that vestiges are the more perfect and lasting the more energetic the primitive forces are (which, by the influence of external stimuli have been developed into vestiges). We must bear in mind that vestiges are nothing but objectively developed primitive forces in their latent state. The most perfect vestiges, therefore, we find in the higher senses of man — in the faculties of sight, hearing and touch (8). The union of many like vestiges produces strong modifica- tions. But, supposing that in a developed mind all its modi- fications consisted of the same number of vestiges, there would even then necessarily be a great difference in strength between those of the higher and those of the lower senses, for the simple reason that in the lower, as the less energetic, vestiges are not TRUE VALUATION. 133 modified in such a degree of perfection as in the higher senses. A modification of 100 vestiges in the lower senses must, there- fore, be far from reaching the strength of one in the higher .senses consisting of the same number and also much more perfect vestiges. In the lower senses the impression fades away ; in the higher senses the impression is retained unal- tered ; that is, by it the primitive forces have been developed so characteristically and lastingly, that long afterward the impression may be reproduced in consciousness without the aid of external stimuli, in a perfection almost equal to a per- ception. What is true of modifications of strength is true also of modifications of debility. No matter how the primitive forces be developed, whether in the direction of perfection or defec- tiveness, the vestiges of either development remain more perfect in the higher than in the lower senses. From this fact it follows that feelings of the higher senses (of pleasure or of pain) must manifest themselves with greater strength than those of the lower senses, provided the number of vestiges in both instances be the same. Knowing now, as has been detailed in 8, that the primitive forces in all men gradate in the same manner, as regards their tenacity, from the higher to the lower senses ; knowing also that the external stimuli are everywhere the same, acting according to their nature upon all human beings in like manner; and knowing, finally, that in all human souls the same law of attraction of like to like produces homogeneous units (9), we may safely infer that these like factors must produce like products ; that, therefore, the feelings must gradate in regard to their strength in all human beings in the same manner. A feel- ing of pleasure or pain, of the higher senses, must in all men have a greater strength than one in the lower senses, provided always, that the number of vestiges in both be alike, and that the basis w T hereupon they are felt remains the same, which latter condition is, indeed, a condition of all acquired, station- ary feelings (58). If now, as we have seen in 56 and 57, we value a thing according to the strength of the feeling of pleasure or pain it 134 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. has produced by its action upon us, it follows that there exists a gradation of good and evil tvhich is the same for all human being*. That is, all objects (persons and things) affecting the higher senses (pleasurably or painfully) must in all human beings gain a higher valuation than those affecting only the lower senses. This gradation of good and evil must necessarily be the same for all human beings, because it is conditioned in all by the same factors, namely, by the same gradation of retentive power of the primitive forces, by the same external elements, and the same law which unites similar vestiges into homo- geneous aggregates. We thus come to a general norm for all valuation, which places all good and evil in a strict order, an order which is conditioned by the very nature of the mind itself and the things acting upon it. A correspondence of our valuation to this natural gradation of good and evil, we call the true or correct valuation; and inasmuch as the valuation of things when reproduced in the form of desires, constitutes the motives for our actions (51), we find in this natural norm the highest moral law, or the fundamental principle of morals, which may be expressed in the form of a commandment: " Thoushalt value everything according to its rank in the natural gradation of good and evil;" or, applied to a special case: "Thoushalt always do that which, according to the true valuation, lies highest in the natural gradation of good. " Accordingly, prefer an enjoyment of the higher senses to one of the lower, a lasting perfection of the mind to a transient pleasure, the good of a whole community to thine own personal interest ; for what benefits thousands ranks much higher in value than what benefits only thy own single self. In short, prefer always the high to the low, the noble to the ignoble, the lasting to the transient. There is no moral law, howsoever it may be expressed, or from whence it may originate, which demands anything higher or better than this. apparent contradictions. — false valuation. 135 60. Apparent Contradictions. — False Valuation. Daily experience does not seem to agree with the above statements. We find quite often lower pleasures preferred to higher ones — good eating and drinking to mental perfection, riches to honesty, selfish aggrandizement to public good — con- ditions, indeed, which do not seem to prove the necessity that all men must value the higher as higher, and the lower as lower, and act accordingly. We must, however, remember that we cannot speak of this moral norm as a something the mind brings already developed into this world. There are no innate powers of any kind beside the primi- tive forces. What has been asserted and what is to be proven is that such a norm is merely conditioned by the nature of the mind — that is, its laws and gradation of the primitive forces, which are alike in all human beings. This norm, then, is not a preformation but a predestination, which, in the course of development, may be subject to various deviations and deficiencies in the single individual. It is here as it is with the norms of logical thinking and correct gram- matical speaking. For both mental operations there are norms of general validity, but they are not in all minds developed with equal perfection. This premised, we shall find no dif- ficulty in solving the above-stated apparent contradictions. A feeling of pleasure or pain attains only to a greater and lasting strength if its one factor, the pleasurable or painful modification, has originated in the higher senses, and con- sists of numerous vestiges (58). But when, for instance, indulgent parents allow the low gustatory forces of their child to be predominantly stimulated by dainties, and neglect to perfect its higher senses, we need not wonder that, notwith- standing the naturally greater energy of the higher senses, the pleasurable modifications of the lower will by far outweigh in strength those of the higher, on account of their more numerous vestiges. The development of the higher senses, which even in such cases originates, and must originate, is but a feeble one, while that of the lower attains a plentitude of vestiges that 136 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. will always overbalance the naturally greater but undeveloped energy of the higher senses. We need not wonder, then, when in life we find that minds thus developed prefer mere sensual pleasures to higher enjoyments. It follows that, by an accumulation of a larger number of vestiges, the modifications in the lower senses must eventually predominate in strength over those of the higher, although the lower senses possess by nature only a low degree of tenacity. Such a state of things is surely wrong, inas- much as the development of the higher should always over- balance that of the lower; but, nevertheless, we find this wrong does exist and originates what we may term a perverted order in the normal gradation of good and evil — an order, in consequence of which things that gratify the lower senses are valued more than such as perfectuate the higher. We are now able to understand how and why a false valuation of things, or a perverted practical view of good and evil, originates in so many minds. The true valuation, or a correct practical norm, has, in such instances, not been developed at all, or not prop- erly ; not because of a natural deficiency of the innate primi- tive forces, but on account of a faulty education or unfortunate circumstances. But such perversion of normal valuation needs no less time for its development than the acquirement of a correct valuation. No one ever became bad at once, and no one ever became good at once. No one can abruptly be brought from an ignorant to a scientific state of mind. These conditions are all the result of slow, gradual development, as I believe has been sufficiently shown. Sudden conver- sions from bad to good are, therefore, not possible. Where they are said to have taken place, for instance, in criminals, by the impressive exhortations of a spiritual adviser, we ought to be rather careful in considering a contrite condition of the mind, in sight of the gallows, as a total change from wicked- ness to godliness. The gallows out of sight might easily prove this sudden godliness " a standpoint soon overcome." But some persons have really been converted from a dissolute life by sudden changes, as their whole life afterward has proved beyond any doubt. On examining such cases w r e will always find a nucleus of good of earlier date, w T hich merely had been IMMORALITY. MORAL RUDENESS. 137 covered over by the exuberant growth of low desires and low tendencies, which good, by some soul-stirring event, has regained its consciousness and natural power. But even when the moral norm has come in the main to a correct develop- ment, there will still exist in most men valuations not entirely corresponding to it. Even the best of us are not so perfect but that false or incorrect valuations have been developed. 61. The Feeling of Strength in Desires and Aversions. All men acquire, in the course of time, a more or less exten- sive knowledge of the world. By the various impressions the things make upon men's senses, they gain a practical knowledge of the value of things. So far, however, as these impressions originate pleasurable or painful modifications, they create desires and aversions that become the basis of, or motives for, our actions. Our valuation of the things may manifest itself, therefore, in two distinct forms. It is reproduced merely as valuation ; that is, as the feeling of the value of the various things which we have gained by their actions upon us, and which, if expressed in words or sentences, shows either our wisdom or our folly ; or it is reproduced in the form of desires or aversions, of which impressions are the necessary causes. (Compare 57, also 27, 33, 34.) Valuations then become the basis of, or the motives for, our actions. In either case their strength will depend upon the number of vestiges of which they consist, according to the law that all that is similar unites in one. If it is a valuation, it will be felt the stronger the oftener we have produced it. If it is a desire or aversion, its strength will manifest itself according to the number of vestiges of which it is the aggregate. We note, therefore, dif- fering degrees of strength in these conative manifestations, even in common language, by such expressions as these : Inclina- tion, disinclination, disgust, disposition, propensity, passion, etc. 62. Immorality. — Moral Rudeness. The oftener certain desires are repeated, the greater they grow in strength ; and we may easily understand why such 10 138 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELING8. developments come in direct opposition to the moral norm, or the true valuation of good and evil. Take, for example, a desire for a particular good, which, on the scale of true valua- tion, stands twenty times higher than some other good. Suppose the desire for the latter to have been renewed forty times, consisting thus of a forty times greater number of vestiges than the single desire. It is clear that the forty- vestiged desire will act with double the strength of the former, notwithstanding the fact that it is on a much lower range in the scale of true valuation. Taking it for granted that the higher was developed in full perfection, and that it received its proper valuation, even then the lower desire would pre- dominate by virtue of its more numerous vestiges. This statement, accepted, proves that the strength of a desire, being derived from the number of its vestiges, is altogether of a subjective-accidental nature. The fact that a desire has fre- quently been repeated gives it a greater strength only in me; in somebody else the same desire may have been de- veloped altogether differently or not at all, or even in myself it might, under different circumstances, have attained a much less or a still greater multiplication of vestiges. In short, the strength of a desire derived from the .number of its vestiges has nothing to do with the objective value of the thing, the impressions of which have caused the desire. Its objective value may stand quite low on the normal scale of good; but an undue repetition of pleasurable stimuli may cause a very strong desire, so strong that it becomes a deviation from the moral norm, or from what is right. Accordingly, we find many persons who are well aware of the much higher value of health than of a mere transient pleasurable gustatory stimulation, the gratification of which frequently impairs health. When tempted, however, they cannot resist the desire. The true valuation is here over- powered by the excessive strength of an immoderate desire (or aversion). Such deviation from the moral norm we call im- morality or corrupt will. In summing up what has been explained in the previous paragraphs, we come to these results: Deviations from the IMMORALITY. — MORAL RUDENESS. 139 true valuation of good and evil (59) may develop in two dif- ferent forms: Either as false valuation, when, by undue ac- cumulation of vestiges, single feelings of pleasure or of pain gain a disproportionate strength, known as folly or a perverted practical view of the world; or, as immorality, when, by undue multiplication of vestiges, single desires or aversions gain an excessive strength, and thus corrupt our will and pervert our actions from good ones into bad ones. From these two forms of deviations from the true valuation of good and evil moral rudeness differs essentially. Moral rudeness is that uncultivated state of mind in which true valua- tion has not been developed at all, or not to the height the general standpoint of civilization demands. Children are in this condition. Children must first acquire the various values of good and evil, from the lowest personal profits to the highest human interests, and they acquire them the more easily and correctly the better and more advanced the persons are by whom they are surrounded, or by whom they are gradually brought up, either intentionally (by education), or unintentionally (by the mere force of example). This explains at once the varions grades and shades of moral culture in different classes of people of even civilized nations, and the almost total want of it among savages. Chil- dren are not only the receivers of what has been accumulated by the progressive development of nations for thousands of years, but they are also themselves products of this long chain of progressive development. They are drawn up and pushed forward by external as well as by internal agencies, all of which agencies, however, exist variously distributed among different classes of people. The poor savage child lacks these advantages almost entirely. The culture it receives from its tribe is extremely limited, and it is itself the offspring of an ancestry so poorly organized that progress in the child alone is scarcely ever recognizable. We see, therefore, a steady gra- dation in moral culture from savage rudeness to the philan- thropic sentiments of the nineteenth century. Greatly advanced as this latter may be, in comparison with that of former ages, it has, by far, not reached all possible per- 140 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELIK fection. Indeed, moral as well as intellectual perfection is without limit, and is never wholly attainable by any one age or individual. 63. Maliciousness, Wickedness. Maliciousness or wickedness is a form of immorality com- plex and serious in nature. The malignant feel displeased at the elation (the joy, good fortune, the intellectual and moral superiority) of others, and become pleased at their pain, sorrow, misfortune, or want. This is obviously a reversion of natural feelings. The pleasure or pain of others we conceive on the basis of our own feelings of pleasure or pain, and we must, there- fore, feel others' pain as pain, and others' joy as joy. What reverses this natural order of things? Even in the rude savage we recognize sympathetic feelings, and the immoral (notwithstanding the excessive strength of desire) is not at all hindered from appreciating others' pleasure or pain as such. The malignant must be selfish; that is, the group of mental modifications relating to himself have grown to such strength that they far overbalance the group of modifica- tions relating to his fellow-beings. In consequence of this immoderate strength of the self group, the conditions of others are perceived faintly and superficially, and are not measured upon the present conscious modifications of the selfish, but merely serve as a basis for the measurement of them. Herein consists the reversion. In the presence of a perception of pleasure in others, personal conscious excitations, if they are not of a highly pleasurable nature themselves, are felt as inferior or as pain; while, in the presence of a perception of pain in others, the personal conscious excitations appear superior, and are felt as pleasure. In the same way we may have a feeling of regret at the sight of a gain we expected to be doubly great, or we may feel glad in bad luck, when we consider that the luck might easily have been much worse. It depends altogether on the measure or basis whereupon the present conscious excitation is meas- ured. The measure or basis is alwavs the less conscious 141 modification, while the most prominent modification in con- sciousness is that which is measured and which conditions the feelings. (Compare 48 and 52.) This reversion of natural feelings alone does not constitute the character of maliciousness. The malicious must also be embittered; that is, in consequence of many disappointments, failures, misfortunes, etc., merited or unmerited, there have arisen a number of modifications of debility (33), and these fill his mind with ill-humor. "Depend upon it," says an American author, " in nine cases out of ten, the evil tongue belongs to a disappointed man." This bitterness must become so predominating in the mind that no modifications of strength will arrest it. Transient bitterness may even arise in other- wise benevolent persons, and during the duration of this bitterness such persons may be overcome by a feeling of envy on seeing others gain, without merit or labor, what they them- selves have been earnestly striving for in vain for a long time. But this feeling soon passes over. Bitterness is not a lasting trait of their minds ; it is only the consequence of a transient excitation, conditioned by external circumstances. Modifica- tions of strength soon prevail, and the benevolent disposition is restored. Not so with the malicious. His mind is wanting in such correctives, and he continues in his reversion of natural feelings, which reversions gradually, by repetition, become a disposition with him. A third fact must be added. The malicious seeks the cause of his disappointments, failures, misfortunes, etc. — in short the cause of his own subjective bitterness — outside himself, in others, as if others were to blame for his difficulties. In his selfishness he overlooks his own faults, and turns the conse- quences thereof over to his fellow-beings. He perverts the comparison between his self-group and altruistic groups, and gives his maliciousness direction. It appears to him that the good fortune, preference, etc., of another is not merited ; that the misfortune, the misery, the want, etc., of another is indeed merited, because, in his embittered state, he considers another as the cause of his own misery! These are the three moral deviations which, when combined, constitute the character of maliciousness. 142 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. Selfishness is the seed from which maliciousness grows; hut selfishness alone is not maliciousness. Take passion for glory or power, which passion often instigates war ; avarice, which enslaves fellow-beings; passion for honor, which overrides mercilessly all who are in the way. Surely all three are devia- tions from the moral norm, but are not maliciousness. There is no reversion of the natural feelings. It is only an excess of desire, which, in its strength, overlooks the possible unhappi- ly ess of others consequent upon the achievement of selfish ends. Unhappiness for others, however, is not desired, but the gain of glory, position, money, etc., is sought in spite of others' suf- ferings. Maliciousness, on the contrary, seeks the misery of others, and enjoys it. Bitterness of mind is the soil in which selfishness grows ; but an embittered state of mind alone is not maliciousness. One may have had a great many severe losses, misfortunes, dis- appointments in life, and yet not be embittered. Modifi- cations of strength prevent this result. Only when by the absence of strong correctives the mind is subdued under the dominion of modifications of debility, bitterness prevails. Even when bitterness is produced by an accidental train of unlucky circumstances, it may cause a continual pondering over the same, a scorning of all participation in any pleasure, an indifference to all that concerns others (even if it were of the highest importance), a melancholic state of mind, even craziness; and yet this state need not necessarily cause mali- ciousness. Maliciousness needs still for its complete establish- ment an unfavorable comparison with others, which, by frequent repetition, has become a disposition. We find, therefore, mali- ciousness most easily originating where disappointments, losses, etc., have been caused by others and intentionally. The feeling of revenge in the oppressed against the oppressor is of this character. It is true, too, that quite accidental conditions may originate such comparisons with others. For example : Sickness, when the sufferer grows peevish, although only transiently, and spiteful, irritable, even envious against those around him who are well and cheerful. This comparison mostly takes place with equals ; those much above or much THE FEELING OF DUTY — CONSCIENCE. > 143 below are out of the range of it, unless brought nearer by special circumstances, as in the case of hate which an anarch- istic wretch feels against all who possess, or in the devilish malevolence of a tyrant, who continues to persecute his victims even in the dungeon. The comparison takes place at first in consequence of external circumstances ; by frequent repetition it grows to be a disposition, unless mental modifica- tions of a higher order prevent the formation of the disposi- tion. In selfishness the moral deviation consists in a rever- sion of natural feelings (the conditions of others serve merely as a basis for the state of mind). In maliciousness it con- sists of a perverted comparison with others. The malicious destroys the real good of another, in order to get rid of a mis- erable feeling of his own ; he enjoys the actual loss, misfortune, etc., of another, although he really gains nothing by it but the gratification of his morbid disposition. He compares his subjective condition on the basis of the real objective state of others. This occurs when, by repetition, it has become a disposition of the mind — the most characteristic element of maliciousness. 64. The Feeling of Duty — Conscience. Thou shalt do this, or thou shalt not do it, often says an internal something in my soul, as it does in others. Thou hast done rightly, or thou hast done wrongly, I am distinctly conscious, was uttered by the inner feeling. What is this inner moni- tion, and how does it originate ? Is it something accidental or whimsical, or is it something necessary — unavoidable — a con- stant sequent? If one feels that his health is of a much higher value than a mere transient sensual pleasure, the grati- fication of which often ruins health, we see that in his mind two mental modifications are conscious : A normal valuation, and a desire which deviates therefrom. The first is the neces- sary consequence of an harmonious development of the mind, to which its innermost nature compels (59) ; the second is a modification which has arisen from pleasurable stimulations of the lower senses, and it is a deviation from the natural norm if 144 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. it has been repeated too often. This repetition depends upon circumstances. The strength of the desire is, therefore, acci- dental. Under different circumstances it might not be so strong, and might, therefore, not deviate from the natural norm (60). Thus, we may say, there are, in this case, two modi- fications side by side for comparison; a true valuation (a con- stant sequent), and an excessive desire (an accidental devia- tion). The difference between the two will manifest itself in one of the following two ways: If the true valuation is the basis whereupon the excessive desire is measured, we will feel the desire as a deviation with the admonition : Thou shalt not do it. If the desire is the basis on which the normal valuation is measured, we will feel the valuation as right with the admo- nition : Thou shalt act accordingly. The feeling of duty thus originates. Suppose, now, that in case the desire be so strong that it overwhelms the true valuation of health. The impulse of the inordinate longing will be gratified, notwithstanding the presence of a true valuation of health. What will be the consequence of such perverted action ? So soon as the gratifi- cation induced by indulgence in the pleasure has passed away, the normal valuation will again be conscious, and upon the restored normal basis the enjoyment of such sensual pleasure will be felt as ivrong — as a deviation from the moral norm. As common language expresses it, after such conduct we will have a bad conscience. Should, however, the true valuation prove the stronger of the two, the longing for the sensual pleasure will not be gratified, and this victory over a low de- sire will be felt as right, as corresponding to the moral norm, and we will have, as is commonly expressed, a good conscience. From this explanation we can easily see how closely related are duty and conscience. In fact, both are feelings, that is, meas- urements between true valuation and desires, which either precede or follow our actions. If it precedes, it w T ill be either admonitory or warning, according to the conformity or devia- tion of the desire with or from true valuation. We call this feeling a feeling of duty. Folloiving our actions, it will be approving or condemnatory, according to the correspondence or deviation of our action with or from the moral norm. It THE FEELING OF DUTY — CONSCIENCE. 145 is called conscience, and when corresponding, a good, when deviating, a bad conscience, repentance or remorse. There is still another difference between duty and conscience, in the com- mon use of these terms. Of conscience we speak especially when the moral norm is brought in comparison with our own actions, while by duty or the voice of duty we understand more generally what the moral norm demands of all persons, so far as they should act under the same circumstances. We thus consider duty as a general rule for the action of all persons in special cases. Another question is : How far does conscience or the feeling of duty exist and extend in men ? In this respect we see, indeed, quite remarkable differences, not only in different men and different nations, but also in the different ages of the same human being and of the same nation. The savage kills his enemy and devours him without compunction of con- science ; he feels afterward as quiet and happy as any Chris- tian after a kind deed to his enemy. In the dark ages no- body (those who did were surely exceptions) thought it wrong to apply horrible means to force the criminal to confessions. The punishment for crime, or what was considered crime, was horrible — so horrible, that nowadays we can scarcely believe it. War, in the present age, although stripped of much of its former cruelty, is, on the whole, still barbarous. More advanced ages will not tolerate w T ar even in its present form. Rude men abuse animals. Bad men defraud, deceive, belie their neighbor, without feeling in the least disturbed about their actions. Where is conscience in such cases? Does it sleep? Indeed, conscience does not exist, it has not originated at all. We have seen above that conscience is & feeling of the difference between true valuation and a deviating desire. True valua- tion must first have originated before certain desires can be felt as deviating on its basis. This has not taken place in either of the above cited instances, to a degree in which their actions would be felt as wrong. Their moral culture cor- responds with their actions. We need not wonder at this. We know (62) that moral development is never complete in any one age or individual, but that it is growing continually to 146 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. higher perfection, and that its growth is without limit. We see that conscience and the feeling of duty exists and extends in men only so far as the true valuation of good and evil has been developed in them. So far as this development is wanting it cannot manifest itself either as admonitory or condemnatory. In short, thus far man has no conscience or feeling of duty. To speak, therefore, of an inborn conscience, is erroneous, if it is intended to signify an innate power ready for use; and it is just" as erroneous to ascribe to the developed mind one con- science, if the term is meant to signify one solitary power. On the contrary, man has as many consciences and feelings of duty as he has special feelings of his various desires upon the basis of his acquired true valuations. This true valuation, or moral norm, however, consists, as we have seen, of single modifications which singly serve as a measure for single desires only. If we take conscience in the abstract, we may speak of the conscience as we speak of the understanding or the will. An " erring " conscience we find where false valuations act in the place of true ones. It may happen that a thing of lesser importance than something else is estimated too high. For instance, when a person overvalues diligent industry and fru- gality to such an extent as to deprive himself of all necessary recreation and pleasure, or when one is painfully affected at the least mistake or oversight in the exercise of external politeness. The same error may occur on the ground of selfish narrow- mindedness, which may be confined to the exclusive love of family, or the interest in a certain rank, or order, or party, or sect, or particular nation. We need only think of the partiality in distributing offices to relatives or partisans, of the unjust crit- icism of public men of the same and the opposite party or sect, or of the character or interests of our own nation and of foreign nations, etc., and we find that only too easily a public conscience develops which not only endures moral deviations, but even sanctions them. It is a similar corruption of conscience when people censure mildly scoundrels (or praise them even as " smart ") who have successfully cheated communities out of hundreds and thousands of dollars. FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 147 Conscience, too, may err from an insufficient intellectual basis. For example, if one feels conscientiously compelled to bene- fit an unworthy person because he thinks him worthy; or if one, for the same reason, supports a lazy man who might much better earn money to support himself, or if one feels himself conscientiously bound to have inebriety routed by compulsory means, or another abstains from openly attacking a public evil for fear he might make matters worse (because he underrates his abilities). In this category of erring con- science belongs, more or less, also the punctual observance of external religious rites transacted merely mechanically, or the execution of good deeds without participation of the heart ; the self-tormenting denial of bodily comfort, or infliction of bodily pain, to gain the heavenly kingdom, or the over-estima- tion of external good behavior. As a further example: If two persons are prone to debauchery and one avoids it be- cause of stinginess, or if two are alike disposed to cheating or bribery, but one is held back from the overt act for fear of de- tection, is the one who does the immoral act worse than the other ? The one who does the evil makes himself guilty before the law, but the other is morally as bad, or rather worse, not- withstanding the illusion of the non-actor that conscience is the better for his not having perpetrated the immoral deed. (Compare Beneke's Grundlinien der Sittenlehre, Vol. I, page 477, etc.) Of an inactive, sleeping conscience we might speak in cases of perplexity and embarrassment, where the necessary com- parison does not take place, although its factors exist in the mind. 65. Freedom of Will and Accountability. Upon the basis of our investigations (thus far advanced) there will be no great difficulty in solving the much-vexed question of the free will and accountability of man. We have seen that desires, inclinations, will, etc., are grad- ual developments of the mind just as much as are intellectual modifications. There does not exist an inborn power to pro- 148 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. duce the numerous and often very complicated mental acts of which we have spoken. They are all products of the same primitive forces and the same mental laws. Of the intellectual abilities we may say they are, to a certain degree, predestined; for a certain degree of energy, acuteness and rapidity is re- quired for the formation of certain talents. One whose primi- tive forces are lacking greatly in these particulars will surely fail to acquire such talents. The same may be said of moral development. A high degree of acuteness of the lower senses, with only a low degree of energy of the higher, may favor deviations from the moral norm. But then this favoring is no actual deviation, neither is it a necessity of its develop- ment. If a chain of circumstances does not necessitate such development, it never comes into existence. In the chain of circumstances, then, lies the necessity of moral and immoral development. Are these circumstances in the power of man? If not, how about his free will and accountability? This is exactly the dilemma the question of freedom of will and ac- countability has always encountered. In order to secure clear- ness in the discussion of this seeming confusion, we must nar- rowdy discriminate between two things: 1. Between the relation of a certain action of a man and his interior (from which it springs), that is, his will, his disposition in general, his moral qualities; and, 2. Between the formation of this interior, or of this will, by the ex- ternal circumstances under which he lives. Freedom of will and accountability can be spoken of properly only in the sense of the first relation. To declare that a man is responsible for an act means the act is counted against him, as having been derived from him, or as having been morally pro- duced by him. An opposite illustration will make this point still clearer. A man is not responsible for an act if the act was produced either by mechanical compulsion (for instance, when one chained is made to pull a rope by which a weight falls and injures another), or by psychical constraint (when one, on the ground of false news, which he believes to be correct, withdraws his help from a needy family, etc.), or by an ab- normal state of mind caused by poisonous substances, or during fits of insanity. In all these cases the act is not derived from FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 149 the moral disposition of the man, is not a product of his moral development, and therefore the act does not morally belong to him. It cannot be counted to him (as having been derived from him or as being morally produced by him), and therefore he is not accountable for it. Freedom of will means exactly the same, but from another standpoint. Freedom is independence, self-determination ; which qualities in a free act show themselves in a two-fold manner. Morally a free act is independent of all external causality, in consequence of which an external necessity for its performance does not exist. (" None who can die, can be forced;" "Niemand muss miissen," Lessiitg.) It is independent also from all internal causality which is not the will or the disposition. The morality of an act is purely and solely conditioned by the moral state of man, that is, of his will, his disposition, etc. This point may be illustrated still further. If one who had been bribed excused himself by urging the greatness of the temptation he was subjected to, we would object. Another might, by the same temptation, have remained entirely pure. Not the temptation, then, but his own immoral disposition, did the wrong. Of course, if the temptation had not offered, he would not have done the deed, but he would, nevertheless, have been the same immoral character who, on another occasion, when opportu- nity offered, would have proven himself guilty. Temptation does not pervert a good will into an immoral will ; it merely draws out what interiorly exists and how it exists. Notwith- standing the temptation, his deed was entirely and only con- ditioned by his own will or disposition, and therefore, it was a free act. " But" say some, " my will is free, when I can will to do just what I please ; for I might as well have acted differently" This is true, if rightly understood. He might have acted differently if it had pleased him otherwise; that is to say, if his disposition or his ivill had been different. The morality of our action is strictly conditioned by the moral nature of our will. Only so far as both correspond is our action free. If, therefore, his will or disposition had been different, or if it had pleased him otherwise, he would have acted differently; but, again, strictly 150 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OB SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. according to the nature of his disposition or will. For " whatever freedom the will has, must lie within its own proper sphere of action, and not without it; must relate to that and not to something else." (Jos. Haven, D. D., p. 539.) This will appear still more clearly, if we remember that man's practical develop- ment consists in the sum of his acquired single practical disposi- tions. From these his actions are derived, and derived strictly according to the nature, the strength, the combination, etc., of the same, so that in the degree in which they had been differ- ent, in that degree he would have acted differently. But so far as they are acquired — that is, so far as man is developed internally as he is, they necessarily condition man's actions (in the relation of cause and effect). No one can, no one does, act otherwise than is conditioned by his disposition or his will. Herein consists the freedom of his will, for his will would be annulled were he in any way forced to act differently. Man must act morally, so far as his dispositions correspond to the moral norm, and overbalance opposite desires, because he wills so; and he must act immorally, so far as his dispo- sitions are of an opposite nature and strong enough to sub- due better ones, because he wills so. Just because there is this strict causal relation between what a man is (that is, his developed dispositions and will) and his actions, he is accountable for his deeds; for we surely could not hold him accountable for that which he was not the cause of, or what had not been derived from his own disposition or will. Thus, freedom of will and accountability are inseparably one and the same. We cannot deny the truth of the one without annulling the other, or admit the one without admitting the other. There are, however, still some points that need clearing up. It might appear, according to the above, that man has no choice between good and evil, or right and wrong ; for as he is, he must will to do, thus establishing a contradiction w T ith the freedom of his will, in consequence of which he can will to do just what he pleases. Nothing can be clearer than that there is really no such contradiction. We must bear in mind what has been explained on almost every page of this work — that the human mind is gradually, but constantly FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 151 growing, developing itself from childhood to old age; that therefore, always and constantly, the most diverse desires, in- clinations, etc., are developed according to the various impres- sions and circumstances acting from the outer world. Besides such impressions as correspond to the moral norm, there also originate impressions that deviate from it. There exists no one human being in whom the sum of developments is all good or all bad. From this it follows that, in a great many cases where a moral question has to be solved, we will have to choose between good and evil, or right and wrong. The result w T ill always show w 7 hich of the two predominates in our soul. It will always be the strongest desire or disposition which causes our action, again vindicating our free will, or the power to will to do what we please. So long as we have oppo- site inclinations of nearly the same strength, our choice will be quite difficult, because a struggle must necessarily ensue between the opposing dispositions. The strongest will surely conquer. The choice, however, between the good and evil, will become lighter and easier, the more the one or the other of the con- flicting dispositions overbalances the opposite in strength; and for a person who has, in a given case, no contrary dispositions, there will be no struggle at all. His choice will appear spon- taneously. AVe can, therefore, if we accurately know a man's disposition, foretell how he will act in a given case. AVe know this from ourselves so far as we know ourselves accurately. Accurately, I say ; for, in a great many instances there is no cer- tainty of knowing beforehand how anyone, or how we ourselves, shall act under certain circumstances. We have been deceived so many times in others and by ourselves in this respect, that we must confess that such predictions are more or less uncertain. Does this prove the existence of the strict causal connection betw r een our actions and our dispositions ? Surely it does not disprove this connection. The uncertainty of predicting how a man will act under certain circumstances, does not lie in the causal relation of his actions, his motives, but in our imperfect knowledge of these motives. The uncer- tainty is, therefore, not founded upon a break in the links 152 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OB SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. between cause and effect, but entirely upon the deficiency of our knowledge of those links. If we knew a man accurately, entirely, minutely, we would always be able to foretell his actions just as certainly as we would be able to foretell any other effect of which we know the cause. But our knowledge of others, and even of ourselves, is so limited, that only in a very few exceptional cases we can absolutely foretell. Just these exceptional cases prove the truth of the strict causal relation existing between action and motive. Knowing the causes accurately, we know also the effects. Objections are raised against this view on account of small external occurrences. Some say, for instance, " we are entirely at liberty to raise our right or left arm just as we please." " As we please " exactly ! But does this not prove that what- ever they do has its cause in their disposition ? This dispo- sition has necessary causes for its existence in their interior development, as well as in various existing influences. The actuating causes are, therefore, quite numerous, and may differ greatly in regard to their strength and excitation, and be beside of so minute a character, that a prediction which arm they will move is utterly impossible. But, whichever arm they move, it is nevertheless moved in a strict causal connec- tion. One arm is, perhaps, stronger than the other, and the obscure sensation of it decides the motion, or the object reached for lies nearer or more convenient for the other arm, or whatever else just this motion may provoke. " But," they may say, " if we now, in spite of this, move the other arm?" Very well, then it is just this spiteful disposi- tion which overrules the motion of the first arm. " But we might as well suppress this, and do the contrary ? " All possi- ble ; but then the cause lies again in this second disposition to suppress that caprice, while another in whom the second dis- position does not exist, follows his spite, and a third one gives way to the first impulse founded in the greater natural con- venience, because no caprice induces him to act differently. We thus come to the same result of strict causality between will, disposition, or motive and action. Because of this causal connection, no act of ours is performed without a correspond- FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 153 ing disposition of ours, or of our will, and we enjoy freedom of will. It is always we who will to do as we please, and for this reason we are accountable for our deeds. It is a different thing, however, when we come to consider the formation of our interior, or of our will or dispositions, by the numerous external circumstances surrounding us. Even these have by some been asserted to belong in the scope of free will and accountability. That some one has just such a disposition or such a will they consider as the effect of his freedom, and therefore he must be accountable for it. To some extent this may be said to be true. We often find moral deviations of a later date to have their cause in earlier ones, as, for instance : Inebriety, in consequence of laziness, to kill time and ennui ; cheating and fraud, in consequence of inordinate longing after enjoyment ; desire for revenge and malevolence, etc., in con- sequence of vanity or longing after fame or power, which de- sires have often been disappointed, etc. The first single devia- tion excites desires or aversions of another kind, which remain as vestiges, and develop, by repetition, into other moral devia- tions. Or, the same deviation which originally is only weak, grows by fostering indulgence to indomitable strength. In all these cases we must acknowledge the later deviations as effects of the former, and as the former constitute part of man's will or disposition, the latter must be considered, not only as a present quality of his character, but also, in regard to their formation or their origination, as having been derived from him, and are thus far justly accountable to him. So far the assertion "that man is accountable for his present disposition, because it is the effect of his free will," is correct, but only so far ; for if we consider carefully how he came to be as he is, we find that there is no such strict causal connection between these single steps of internal de- velopment as between his motives and actions. Thousands are lazy without ever becoming inebriates ; thousands with an inordinate longing for enjoyments remain honest; thousands who are vain, or thirst for glory, never develop anything like malevolence or hatred, and so on. There are quite numerous and diverse external circumstances 11 154 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. necessary to make a man what he is. Under different circum- stances he might have developed altogether differently — that is, as to his moral being ; for although, as we have seen above, the latter may also, in the relation of motive and action, be provoked by external circumstances — when, for instance, the self-interested actually cheats because of a great temptation, without which he would not have done the mean deed — yet, even here, it is only the external doing which is provoked by the temptation, and not his inner moral being, which was as bad before as after the deed. The external circumstances, therefore, did not form his moral state, but merely brought to light what already existed. Here, however, where we speak of the formation or the origin of the dispositions, it is altogether different. They grow, as has been shown in different places, out of single external stim- ulations, as circumstances offer them. We see this the more clearly the farther back we trace the moral being of a man. We come then to more and more innocent periods of his life, and at last to the entirely indifferent moral state at his birth. Here the external circumstances have commenced to act upon the undeveloped soul in various forms of stimulation, and have thus caused modifications of strength or of debility. By and by, according to their nature and repetition, modifications which either correspond with or deviate from the moral norm are formed. We find thus the cause of man's moral develop- ment, or of the formation of his dispositions or his will, actu- ally given in those relations which the external circumstances under which he lives provide for him. This is demonstrated also quite clearly in cases where a certain train of circum- stances under which a man has been developed in a certain direction, are at once cut off. For instance, a rich "good-for-nothing" loses his money and is forced by hunger to w T ork and apply himself to a regu- lar mode of life ; or, a foolish flirt loses by sickness her pretty face and is thus drawn to more sober and substantial thoughts. Had the first circumstances continued, both would have grown in the first direction — that is, from bad to worse. But w T hen the external conditions upon wmich this growth was based FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 155 suddenly ceased, the further development in the first direction was also stopped. Although this stoppage does not take away the dispositions already formed, it prevents at least their further growth by the impossibility of further fostering; and as by the new conditions of life new interests are excited, which keep the former in un- consciousness and inactivity, the new may so gain the ascend- ancy over the old dispositions, that, indeed, an entire change is finally wrought in the moral disposition of the individual by external circumstances. This shows clearly the mighty influence of external circumstances upon the formation of man's dispositions, or his will, and so far as these external circumstances are not under man's control, we cannot consider their effect the direct result of man's action upon the formation of his dispositions, nor as belonging to the scope of his free will or accountability. Indeed, we have no right to so consider them, unless we are allowed to mix things which do not belong together. The free- dom of will consists, as we have seen, in the causal connection between motive and action. That is to sa} 7 , no act of ours is performed without a fully corresponding disposition of ours, or of our will. It is always we who will do as we please ; and, therefore, we are accountable for such actions. But where this causal connection between motive and action ceases, there freedom and accountability cease also. The for- mation of our dispositions, that is to say, the how and why we must will as we do, lies in a limited degree only in our will ; it depends much more upon the external circumstances under which we live and over which we have no control, and thus far we have no right to talk of freedom of will or accountability. The question why the one is placed under such, and another under other circumstances, obviously does not belong to the scope of our investigations. (Compare Beneke's Grundlinien der Sittenlehre, Vol. II., p. 498 et seq.) 156 the emotional sphere, or sphere of the feelings. 66. Feelings of Similar Character Increase their Effect when Co-existing in Consciousness. We experience this truth when we make one of a pleasant family party. The various amusements offering themselves to senses and mind, although differing singly, unite, neverthe- less, in their general pleasing character, and cause a total feel- ing of much higher elation than any of the single amusements alone could produce. We find, under such conditions, a little joke quite exquisite, a little amusing occurrence exceedingly funny, etc., while the joke or occurrence at other times might leave us unaffected. The great effect of such a union of diverse similar feelings into one totality we experience espe- cially in poetical figures and parables, the character of which consists of this, that an idea, or rather the feeling which it is meant to produce, is heightened by the excitation into con- sciousness of other ideas capable of producing similar feelings. In this way originate feelings of the beautiful, of the sublime, of the great. It is the same in music, where a single tone gains by the accompaniment of other harmonious notes ; the totality of its effect lies in its harmony. Dissonances interfere for the moment, but the predominance of harmony decides the totality of its effect. The feeling of gratitude belongs in the same category. Beside the pleasurable feeling of the received kindness we conceive also the benevolence of the benefactor, or his excellent character, or his high attainments in science, etc. Clearly, these latter are only remotely similar to the pleasurable feel- ing of the received kindness; still, being of a pleasurable nature, they help to heighten the first into greater intensity. That this is so, we can readily find if we subtract the latter, and suppose one to be benefited by somebody whom he does not know. The received benefit will also surely excite in him a feeling of gratitude, but certainly not in the degree as in the case where other pleasurable conceptions of the benefactor help to heighten this feeling. Suppose the manner in which the benefaction is tendered be of an offensive, parading nature, the feeling of gratitude will sink to a still lower plane — per- haps not be excited at all. DISSIMILAR FEELINGS. 157 But not only similar pleasurable feelings unite by their con- currence in consciousness in a totality of higher intensity. We find the same effect produced by the concurrence of similar painful feelings. Little unpleasantnesses, when following each other in rapid succession, may become intolerable. Great losses, when occurring together, may cause a total feeling of perfect dejection and despondency. The feeling of mortifica- tion is composed, not only of the pain produced by reprehen- sion, insult or neglect, but also by a feeling of our unworthi- ness, no matter whether this unworthiness really exists in us or whether it is merely forced into our consciousness by the strength with which the abuser conceives it. The feeling of regret is caused by the unpleasant consequence of our actions, and is much lighter to bear than the feeling of peni- tence with which a consciousness of our folly, or frivolousness, or immorality, is associated. 67. Dissimilar Feelings when Co-existing in Conscious- ness Restrain themselves in their Effect. We experience the effect 'of dissimilar feelings when in a merry company a bodily pain (toothache, or headache, or some other trouble) prevents our feelings from reaching the height we see produced in our friends, who have not to contend with such unpleasantnesses. Still we are better off in merry com- pany than at home, where, without the pleasurable excitations, we would feel our troubles doubly strong. It follows that dis- similar feelings, when simultaneously excited, restrain or weaken each other mutually. We have here an altogether different relation from that spoken of in 48 and 49. The dis- similar feelings do not measure themselves one with the other; that is. the toothache, headache, or whatsoever unpleasant feel- ing it may be, is not the basis whereupon the pleasurable ex- citations of the merry company are measured, or vice versa; but both the pleasurable and the painful are together measured with other mental states, and the total effect of such a mixed mental condition is likewise of a mixed character. Neither the pleasurable nor the painful stimuli can gain full exten- 158 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. sion, because the one restrains the other of its full development. We cannot feel quite so merry as those around us, and we can- not feel quite so miserable as we would were we alone without these pleasurable excitations. We may say the pain has spoiled our pleasure, and the pleasure has ameliorated our pain. Clear examples of such mixed feelings are those of hope and fear. In both we have groups and series of mental modifica- tions which relate to the realization or avoidance of something good or evil in the future. In both cases these groups are a mixture of modifications of strength and of debility. In a case where the modifications of strength predominate, we have hope ; when, however, modifications of debility have the upper hand, we have fear. If these groups relating to the realiza- tion or avoidance of some future good or evil, consisted of nothing but pleasurable feelings (modifications of strength), the sum of them would be a feeling of assurance and joy, and if they consisted of nothing but painful feelings (modifications of debility), the sum of them would be a feeling of despair. Hope and fear require a mixture of pleasurable and painful feelings, co-existing in consciousness, whereby they mutually restrain themselves of their full sway. 68. Concluding Remarks. I have thus far endeavored to condense in the smallest pos- sible compass the mechanism of mental evolutions. I may call it a mental analysis, which, in all respects, reaches, in exactness, to any chemical ^analysis. The most complex mental phenomena have been dissolved into their elementary constituents, and in the highest mental modifications we have been able to demonstrate their organizing processes from out of the simplest elements. This has been done on a purely psychological basis, by the aid of inner perception. From this it appears how incorrectly Dr. Maudsley judges, when in his " Physiology and Pathology of the Mind," p. 11, he says: "May we not then justly say that self-consciousness is utterly incompetent to supply the facts for the building up of CONCLUDING REMARKS. 159 a truly inductive psychology ?" We will have to consider his arguments against the psychological method, which, indeed are much older than Maudsley's inquiries, in a later para- graph. I may state at once, however, that I fully agree with him in the adoption of the inductive method, "which makes man the servant and interpreter of nature, and which is, in reality, the systematic pursuance of the law of progress in organic development" (p. 6); for all psychological evolutions are, indeed, as I trust I have sufficiently shown, organic de- velopments, which can be satisfactorily explained only on a basis of scrutinizing observation of mental life, wherever and however that mental life may manifest itself; but not by pre- conceived general ideas from which the old psychology has in vain been trying to construe a science true to nature. There is a point wherein I perfectly agree with Dr. Maudsley, and acknowledge with pleasure his advanced ideas on mental development. Neither the will, nor the understanding, nor the sphere of feelings "are innate and constant faculties, but gradual and varying organizations ;" and this has been shown by no one more clearly and convincingly, because based upon experience, than by Beneke in his numerous works during the years from 1820 to 1853. It is rather a perplexing fact, however, that Beneke has received so little acknowledgement, even from writers who, in their researches, boast of their inductive methods. All I can find in their works is a mere mention of his "Lehr- buch der Psychologie als Naturwissenschaft" a book written for the use of his students, as a guide during his lectures. To judge from this skeleton-book the profound life which has flowed from this deep and well-trained mind is, to say the least, scarcely just or up to the times. The old psychologists, especially the followers of Herbart, decried him as an " em- piricist," who was unfit for any sort of speculation (Harten- stein uber die neuesten Darstellvmgen und Beurtheilungen der Her- barfschen Philosophic) ; or, as a half-bred pupil of Herbart, who stuck fast half-way in the deep mysteries of Herbart's Philosophy, and who, in order to hide his real intellectual origin, used only a new terminology, and so forth (Drobisch, 160 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, oil SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. empirische Psycliologie, p. 325, ff.). The physiological school, on the other hand, has barely mentioned, as above stated, his text-book for students. Now, it is true Beneke was no mate- rialist, and in his mode of investigating mental phenomena he did not need the aid of physiology, although he never despised any facts, if the)' were well grounded, from whatever source they might arise. On the contrar} r , he was open and alive to all observations pertaining to mental evolutions, of the truth of which assertion any of his larger works may be cited as proof, Even if it was not by this method he reached such results, I may say of Beneke what Dr. Maudsley says of Locke: "It was because he possessed a powerful and well- balanced mind, that the results which he obtained, in what- ever nomenclature they may be clothed, are, and ever will be, valuable, because they are the self-revelations of an ex- cellently-constituted and well-trained mind" (p. 25). We need not, then, be afraid of the strenuous efforts of the ad- herents of physiological views to explain mental phenomena on the basis of physiological experiments. On the contrary, we must welcome them as sincere co-laborers in the great cause of unveiling the great mystery — "man." Indeed, there is no reason for rejecting any help from whatever source it may arise. Adolf Horwitz, in his " Psychologische Analysen avf Physiologischer Grundlage " (p. 58), is quite right when he says: "If the body be the cause of the soul, then true in- formation of the mind's actions can be had only by a clear understanding of the formation of the body and its organs; if the body be the design or product of the mind, we assuredly will gain a better insight of the intending means by a close knowledge of the intended bodily effects. Or, on the other hand, if the soul be the cause or builder of the body, we may the better judge of this unseen cause, the better we understand its product ; and finally, if the soul be the design or product of the body, then, of course, a knowledge of the latter will best further a knowledge of the former." In no way, then, can the newly-awakened interest of physiologists for investigations of mental phenomena interfere with psychology as a natural science. What will clearly appear in our later investigations SUMMARY. 161 I may briefly state here : Physiological researches will com- plement the observations of inner perception in those spheres which, by their nature, are capable of developing only a faint consciousness, or none at all, under ordinary circumstances. It is thus a helping hand from below up, which we thankfully accept and will not reject, even if we should find now and then that its tendency was rather downward instead of up- ward. We shall, however, always strenuously decline to tolerate that superficial self-sufficiency and onesidedness which thinks itself in possession of all the wisdom extant, and considers others, with other views and other experiences, as fools and knaves. 69. Summary. I. The 'primitive forces. Faculties predominantly endowed with the qualities of energy and acuteness favor the origin of feelings of the sublime, while a predominance of rapidity is more adapted for the pro- duction of feelings of the agreeable. A favorable combination of the three qualities promotes the formation of feelings of the beautiful (53). The sublime and beautiful require, how- ever, for their production also an interior treasure of mental modifications, which must correspond to the sensorial impres- sions. We, then, underlie the latter with our own feelings and dispositions; transfer, so to say, our interior, as corresponding to them. In short, we spiritualize the external things. Herein consists the nature of the aesthetic feelings (54). The greater the energy of the primary forces, the more readily do we attain feelings of strength of the single modi- fications, for then the vestiges are much more perfect (55). Conceptions which consist of many such perfect vestiges are reproduced with clearness and distinctness, while such as consist of only few vestiges are felt as dim or indistinct. A mixture of like and unlike vestiges gives the feeling of obscurity or confusion (56). But also pleasurable or painful and conative mental modifications receive, by the multiplica- tion and preservation of vestiges, their peculiar character as 1G2 feelings (58). The stronger pleasure we feel as of greater value, or as a greater good, and the stronger desire manifests itself with greater force (61). Knowing, from previous chapters, that the primary forces gradate in all men in the same man- ner as regards their energy, from the higher to the lower senses; knowing also that the external stimuli are always the same, acting according to their nature upon all human beings in like manner; and knowing, finally, that in all human souls the same law of 'attraction of like to like produces homogeneous units, we come to the conclusion that the feel- ings, too, must gradate, in regard to their strength, in all human beings in the same manner ; that, therefore, a feeling of pleasure or pain of the higher senses must in all men have greater strength, be of greater value, than one of the lower senses ; provided, always, that the number of vestiges in both be alike, and that the basis whereupon they are felt remains the same, which latter condition is indeed a necessity of all acquired, stationary feelings. This natural gradation of good and evil, necessarily conditioned by the nature of the primary forces, is the basis of all true and correct valuation; and, inas- much as the valuation of things, when reproduced in the form of desires, constitutes the motives for our actions, it is at the same time the moral norm, or the highest moral law, which may be expressed in the form of a commandment : " Thou shalt value everything according to its rank in the natural grada- tion of good and evil." II. The external stimuli. According to the quantitative relation of external stimuli to the primitive forces, the latter cause either feelings of non- satisfaction or of pleasure, of satiety or of pain ; in short, all pleasurable and painful feelings. These various stimulations gradually form the character of man (51). Sensations differ from perceptions by their embryonic con- sciousness. Perceptions are multiplied sensations (51). A peculiar relation of external stimuli to the primary forces — the pleasurable stimulation — is also the cause of the forma- tion of feelings of the agreeable, of the sublime, and of the beautiful. SUMMARY. 163 III. The fundamental processes of the mind. 1. The transformation of primitive forces by external stimuli, in consequence of which sensations and perceptions originate, is the cause of all feelings ; for a feeling can originate only when several (at least two) mental modifications, differing from each other, co-exist in consciousness. The immediate consciousness of this difference we call a feeling (47). As all that has been formed in the mind with any degree of perfec- tion remains as vestiges, it can easily be understood why the sphere of feelings is so great, and why our feelings are so un- stable and varied ; for one and the same mental modification can manifest itself n$w as one and now as another kind of feeling, according as it co-exists now with one or now with another mental modification (49 and 51). The greater the difference between mental modifications co-existing in con- sciousness, the stronger, fresher, or more vivid is the feeling (49). 2. The attraction of like to like causes the feeling of strength of the single mental modifications, which, in the sphere of con- ceptions, manifests itself either as clearness (a union of many like vestiges), or as indistinctness (a union of few like vestiges) (55 and 56). The union of a greater or less number of pleas- urable or painful stimulations determines the value things assume in our eyes. Too great an accumulation of like ves- tiges in one or another direction causes deviations from the natural gradation of good and evil, or false valuation (60). In the sphere of conation this law produces the strength of de- sires and aversions (61). If single desires and aversions grow too strong in relation to true valuation, we have immorality, or perverted will (62). Maliciousness is the product of selfishness, bitterness of mind, and a perversion of natural feelings (63). The correct or excessive strength of pleasurable, or painful, or conative modifications, manifests itself immediately as a feel- ing. If, upon the basis of true valuation, an excessive desire is roused into consciousness, we feel this desire as deviating, or as wrong ; if, on the other hand, a true valuation is measured upon the basis of an excessive desire, we feel the first as right. Thus originates the feeling of duty. This feeling, applied to our own actions, is called conscience. When is it good? When bad? How far does it extend? What is an erring con- 104 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. science? (64). Freedom of will is independence from all exter- nal and all internal causality, so far as the external and inter- nal causes are not the product of the will or disposition. But between oar will, or dispositions, or motives, and our actions, there is always the strictest causality. Because of this causal connection, no act of ours is performed without a corresponding individual disposition, or of our will to do that act. It is always we who will to do as we please, and for this reason we are responsible for our deeds. The strongest disposition or desire will always determine our actions. So long as we have opposite inclinations of the same strength our choice will be difficult. It will grow lighter the more the one or the other of the con- flicting dispositions overbalances the opposite in strength. There will occur no struggle at all w T here there are no contrary dispositions. The formation of our dispositions lies in a limited degree only in our will. It depends much more on the external circumstances over which we have no control (65). Feelings of similar character, when co-existing in conscious- ness, increase in strength. Herein lies the charm of poetical figures and parables. This is the nature of the feeling of grati- tude. Single unpleasantnesses accumulating grow unbearable. The feelings of mortification, penitence, and the like, are sub- ject to the same rule (66). Dissimilar feelings, when co-existing in consciousness, restrain each other in producing effects. Such is the character of the feelings of hope and fear (67). 3. The diffusion of mobile elements, in consequence of which there is a constant flowing of mobile elements from one mental modification to another, causes the continual transmutation of our mental acquisitions from delitescence into conscious exci- tation, and vice versa (32). Without this process feelings could not originate. In order to attain a consciousness of the differ- ence between different mental modifications, these modifica- tions must be excited side by side into consciousness; and as the mobile elements unite at the same time the single modifi- cations, during their coexistence in consciousness, into groups and series, they are the cause of those stationary or acquired feelings wdiich we have ready for use, and which endure as long as the union of their factors remains undissolved (48). PART IV. PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. " The more minutely we investigate the phenomena of living matter the less likely does it appear that the causes of these will be discovered in the domain of physics, or that any vital, as well as all non-vital, actions, will prove to be in the grasp of physical law." (Lionel S. Beale, in Protoplasm, p. 343.) 70. Sensibility and Irritability. There are usually assigned to man five senses : Sight, hear- ing, smell, taste and feeling. They are represented by bodily organs : The eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, and the in- numerable fine sentient nerves which are distributed all over and throughout the body. Even a superficial investigation, however, of the reaction of these nerves, through the so-called " common or general sense of feeling," makes it apparent that they respond to stimuli widely diverse in nature. What we discern, for example, by the points of our fingers and toes, the lips, and tip of the tongue (by touch), differs widely from the sensations we receive by the skin in general, or by the action of our muscles, or by the operation of the lungs, the stomach, and other organs. This we shall have to inquire into further on. Here it may merely be stated, in general, that where sensations originate we find bodily organs of peculiar structure, which organs are adapted to the reception of certain kinds of stimuli. According to the nature of the stimuli, the recipient organs vary in structure. All organs, however, consist in a central and a peripheral apparatus joined by conducting cords of peculiar matter called nerves. Certain nerves have the peculiarity, that in a normal bodily condition they convey im- (165) 1GG PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. pressions from the periphery to the centre, hence their name afferent nerves, in contradistinction from others which carry central impressions to the periphery, and which, therefore, are called efferent nerves. We shall speak of the latter more fully in some future paragraph. The afferent nerves, with their peculiarly constructed peripheral and central arrangements, form the bodily basis of the senses. Glancing over the various classes of living organisms, we do not find any signs of a nervous structure in the whole class of beings designated by the name of Protozoa. This class consists of a perfectly homogeneous mucous substance. Nevertheless, they appear to possess a kind of sensibility to external stimuli, as, according to Trembley's observations, the Hydra moves towards the light, while, according to Cavolini, the Gorgonia and Sertularia shun the light. We may descend still lower in the scale of creation to the vegetable kingdom, w T here nervous structure is entirely out of question, and find even here clear signs of reaction against external stimuli. Of the very numer- ous instances of this kind, I need single out only the generally known plants, the Mimosa pudica and Dionsea muscipula (Venus' fly-trap). In these cases reaction against stimuli does not depend upon a nervous structure at all. The same independence manifests itself in the irritability of the muscles when their nerves are severed ; in the growth of the ovule, and its subsequent development after fecundation until the period when the first traces of nerves appear ; in the growth of such parts of the body in which no nerves as yet have been discov- ered — for example, the cartilages, the lenses, the vitreous humor ; in the respiration of the red blood-corpuscles and the motion of the white corpuscles outside of the body. Life is inherent in the cell (Virchow) ; or more accurately, according to Beale, in the bioplasm or protoplasm, which consists of colorless and structureless masses, the smallest of which are spherical, the largest always assuming the spherical form when free to move in a fluid or semifluid medium. Still there must be a difference between the irritability of cells possessed of and those devoid of nervous elements. It might, indeed, be impossible to draw a line of distinction SENSIBILITY AND IRRITABILITY. 167 between the two when they first commence to appear as sepa- rate organizations, as in the case of the lowest classes of animal organisms. But the line of demarcation will become sufficiently plain if we follow their development to its more advanced stages. These latter stages show unmistakably an entirely new form of development, and one invariably associated with the nervous organization, the development of consciousness. However perfect a cell may be, or however perfect its combi- nation with other cells in forming a complex organism, as, for example, in plants, the cell nowhere shows signs of conscious- ness. Xot until nervous structure appears is the development of consciousness discernible ; but only the advanced stages of nervous development show the essential tendency of the pri- mary or elementary nerve-structure definitely realized. What at first is indiscernible gradually unfolds itself, and we come, by retrograde reasoning, to the conclusion that whatever pecu- liar property belongs to an advanced nervous structure, must belong equally in kind, though more faintly in degree, to the nerve-element in its nascency. If we thus hold nervous structure apart from all other cell-structure, we shall be able to distinguish between the sensibility of nerve-structure and the irritability of all other living cells. In nerve sensibility there is a capacity for development into consciousness, and this capac- ity is constantly struggling to realize itself, while the irrita- bility of all other living cells exhausts itself in a reaction to maintain life, that is, in the preservation and upbuilding of nutrition and form. We see this clearly manifested, not only in those plants which consist of a single cell, especially the Algse, living unattached in the water and in the spores of plants, but also in the various cells of the animal organism. The automatic properties of the cells have been described by Virchow (in his Cellular Pathology, p. 355, 4th German edition) as consisting of the following characteristics: They change their form continually by projecting and withdrawing single parts of their substance, which is seen with special clearness in the young cells of the cartilage and of the enchondroma ; they have molecular motion within themselves in their proto- plasma, as observed by Reinhardt in pus-corpuscles, and by 168 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. Remak in mucus-corpuscles; they form vacuoles in their pro- toplasma ; they cause separations of single parts from the main body, and swallow up and incorporate with great vorac- ity other cells and foreign substances, as has been observed by Preyer and others. Preyer saw colorless blood-corpuscles twist around and envelope red ones, and press them into their interior; and others observed that colorless blood-corpuscles as well as other cells incorporate indigo, carmine, cinnabar, in much the same way as is known of Infusoria, who possess neither mouth, stomach, nor outlet, but take up or suck in foreign substances, and throw them off more or less changed at any point of their surface. All these processes have been observed to go on in the living cell, independent entirely of any nervous influence. They are the cell's essential life prop- erty, its irritability or innate nutritive and formative power, in consequence of which the cell becomes a living organism, and is life in its incipient stage, vegetable or animal. By it the cell multiplies and aggregates, and gives rise to the growth of the different organisms. 71. The Nervous System. No doubt the nerve-cell too, considered merely as a living cell, has the same inherent capacity and tendency toward nu- tritive and formative processes, otherwise its growth would be impossible ; but superadded to this is another capacity, higher and generically different, the capacity for development into consciousness. In its primary impulse this manifests itself in a gradual development of the special senses, that is, as a sensi- bility for the reception and appreciation of special external impressions. The first indications of this capacity are, indeed, very faint. Not until we arrive at the class of Radiata do we find traces of a nervous system. The Acalepha present a nervous ring around the entrance of the stomach or mouth, as the first phase in the development of nervous matter. This arrangement is persistently repeated in the various species of this genus. In the Mollusca and Articulata this oesophageal or oral circle is one of the most essential features of nervous THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 169 structure. From this nervous ring gradually more and more nervous cords are distributed to other portions of the body, and as the functions of these organisms become further differ- entiated several centres of nerve ganglia make their appear- ance. Thus in the higher Mollusca the oral or oesophageal nervous centre is divided into an upper and lower centre or ganglia. The upper, or cephalic, gives off nerves to the labial and olfac- tory tentacula, to the eyes, and to the muscular apparatus of the mouth ; the lower, or pedal, sends nerves to the foot and to the organs of hearing. A third centre, the parieto-splanchnic, is usually situate on the posterior part of the body, and dis- tributes its nerves to the muscular and sensitive parietes of the body, to the shell muscle or muscles, to the branchial apparatus, and to the heart and large vessels. These different centres are connected by commissural bands. Beside the foregoing ganglia and nerves, we find in many of the Gasteropoda a separate system connected with the com- plicated apparatus of manducation and deglutition. This set of nerves and ganglia may be called, from its distribution, the stomato- gastric system. A distinct visceral or sympathetic system of nerves, consisting of a multitude of minute ganglia and of a network of filaments, dispersed through the various parts of the apparatus of organic life, and communicating with the stomato-gastric system, has been clearly made out (by Mr. Hancock and Dr. Embleton, in Philosoph. Transact, 1852, and others) among the nudibranehiate Gastropods, and it probably exists elsewhere. (Carpenter, Comparative Physiology, p. 647.) In the Articulata, except in their lowest forms (the Vermi- form tribes), we find a longitudinal gangliated cord cor- responding to the spinal cord of the Vertebrata, with this difference, that instead of lying beneath the dorsal or upper surface, as in the Vertebrata, it occupies the ventral or inferior surface of their bodies. In its function it corresponds pre- cisely with that of the spinal cord of the Vertebrata. But "there is no distinct trace, in Articulates generally, of anything that can be fairly considered homologous with the cerebrum or the cerebellum of Vertebrates; the first sub- 12 170 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. oesophageal ganglion (cephalic ganglion), which has been likened to the latter, being really homologous (as the dis- tribution of its nerves abundantly proves) with the medulla oblongata." (Carpenter, Comparative Physiology, p. 656.) With the Vertebrata the arrangement of the nervous system takes another turn. The longitudinal gangliated cord now occupies the dorsal portion of the body, and its cephalic gan- glia become an immediate continuation of it ; all lie above the alimentary canal, and form a continuous mass of nervous matter — the craniospinal axis, which consists of the medulla spinalis, the medulla oblongata, and the chain of sensory gan- glia. The oesophageal ring, which was the most characteristic feature of the previous classes, disappears. In the lowest class of these new organizations, the Amphi- oxus, there is no trace of either a cerebrum or a cerebellum, and the Cyclostome fishes in general show no other advance- ment save a larger development of their sensory ganglia. In all the higher classes of fishes, however, and Vertebrata in general, we find an additional development of nerve-matter, namely, the cerebral ganglia or hemispheres, which overtop the sensory ganglia, and the cerebellar hemispheres, which overlap the medulla oblongata. At first the sensory ganglia by far predominate over the rudimentary beginnings of the cerebral hemispheres, until after many intermediate and suc- cessive developments from one type to the other, the cerebrum gains so much predominance in size, as well as in complexity of structure, that the sensory ganglia become completely covered and hidden by it. The cerebellum likewise begins merely as a rudimentary thin layer of nerve-matter on the median line, until by successive developments it gradually attains, in the higher classes, to considerable size and com- plexity of structure, consisting of a central portion and two lobes or hemispheres. (Compare Carpenter, Comparative Physi- ology, p. 663.) This gradual development of the nervous system we find invariably associated, not only with a gradual differentiation of tissues, organs and functions in the animal economy, but also (and this is our most important consideration) with a THE SYMPATHETIC NERVOUS SYSTEM. 171 more and more pronounced conscious activity or intelligence, a development which exists nowhere except in organisms en- dowed with nerve-structure. This inseparable union again demonstrates the existence in nerve-structure of a potential capacity for development into consciousness. 72. The Sympathetic Nervous System. Conscious development we find least pronounced in the sympathetic system ; yet that a certain degree of sensibility exists in its ganglia we would necessarily be compelled to infer (even if positive experiments had not proved it) from the observation of subjective sensations. We may count in this class the pleasurable feelings of bodily comfort, ease, con- valescence, of health, vigor and strength; the painful feel- ings of bodily oppression, anxiousness, restlessness, sickness, wretchedness, indisposition, heaviness, goneness, exhaustion, feverishness, etc. ; the conative feelings of loathing, nausea, hunger, thirst, uneasiness, etc. ; the positive bodily conations or desires for light and air, for all sorts of food and drinks, for evacuating the bowels or bladder, for sexual intercourse, for being carried about (in children), or moving about, or keeping still, or being lazy, etc. Many more sensations might be added, and many are so obscure as to defy description. It is possible, however, that some of those just enumerated, do not belong to the sphere of the sympathetic system alone, as this system is blended throughout its extent with cerebro-spinal nerves. But to assign the separate origins of these lowest conscious developments, neither internal perception nor ana- tomical and physiological observation is competent. What anatomical and physiological researches have brought to light in regard to the sympathetic system is briefly as follows : " The sympathetic ganglia receive motor and sensory filaments from the cerebro-spinal nerves, as already stated, and some filaments of the sympathetic pass to the cerebro-spinal centres. The filaments of the sympathetic are connected at or near their termination with ganglionic cells, not only in the heart and uterus, but in the bloodvessels, lymphatics, the submucous 172 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. and muscular layer of the entire alimentary canal, the salivary glands, liver, pancreas, larynx, trachea, pulmonary tissue, bladder, ureters, the entire generative apparatus, suprarenal capsules, thymus gland, lachrymal canals, ciliary muscle, and the iris." (Mayer.) " The sympathetic ganglia prove to be endowed with a certain degree of sensibility, which, however, is of a duller nature than that of the ordinary sensory nerves." (Nervous System, by Austin Flint, p. 424.) Comparing these results of anatomical and physiological research in the sympathetic nervous system with the results of observation upon ourselves, we find that they closely correspond. The feelings or sensations we have in these nerve-centres (some of which have been enumerated above) are for the most part of a very obscure and indefinite char- acter indeed. Nevertheless, these sensations may be roused sometimes to such intensity that they overshadow and thwart even the higher mental developments of sound judgment, etc. To exemplify this, I need refer only to hypochondriacs and hysterical women. In both cases there exist morbid dis- turbances of the sympathetic system which make themselves felt in its nerve-centres. These sensations first appear ob- scurely, but gradually, through their long continuance, attain an intensity which gives them actual preponderance over higher mental modifications. Such persons cannot do other- wise than constantly talk of their misery, and, trying to dis- cover its cause, frequently work themselves into the strangest and most absurd delusions. In conformity with the view that a nerve-cell in general possesses a potentiality of conscious development, we must claim this power for the ganglia of the sympathetic system also. We would otherwise be at a loss where to locate the commence- ment of this power. To deny to one tissue what we attribute to another of the same kind, w r ould surely not be admissible in logical reasoning. Therefore to the nerve-cells of the sym- pathetic system we must assign a certain capability for con- scious development, how T ever feeble. In the chain of animal organisms we find the simplest nerve-structure to be the start- ing point of conscious development, and in the human organ- THE SYMPATHETIC NERVOUS SYSTEM. 173 ism we may consider the sympathetic system as the lowest base for the unfolding of the same process. This view is further enforced by the similarity of the sympathetic system with the cerebro-spinal system. Both have their ganglionic centres, and both are connected at or near their peripheral terminations with ganglionic cells. By the rami communicantes filaments from the cerebro- spinal nerves the sympathetic system is in certain communi- cation with the spinal and cerebral centres. This explains the mutual, though limited, influence of one system upon the other, which is so clearly defined in cases where conscious developments of the sympathetic sj'stem become so intense as to obscure the consciousness of a higher plane, and where, on the other hand, mental emotions greatly influence the sym- pathetic system ; as, for example, in the well-known instances where fright blanches the cheeks, or the bashful blush, or where worry impedes and success increases digestion, etc. The sensibility of the sympathetic system has never been considered as constituting anything like an independent sense. At least, its peculiar manifestations, which could not well be denied, have been thrown with other sensations into one com- mon class, the so-called " common or general sense of feeling;" and this again has been crudely confused with the sense of touch ; for all the world still speaks of five senses : sight, hearing, smell, taste, and feeling. But scores of convictions, sanctioned by centuries, have sunk into oblivion before a widening science ; and we need not recoil from the doubt as dangerous, if even the sacred limitation of our senses to five should prove to be a product of incomplete observation. The latest re- searches of Mayer in Strieker's Handbuch der Lehre von den Geweben, Leipzig, 1871, p. 820, show "that near the terminal filaments of the sympathetic, in most of the parts to which these fibres are distributed, there exist numerous ganglionic cells ; " and, as this is precisely a characteristic arrangement of all the other "special" senses, we are fully entitled also to consider the sympathetic system as being the basis of an independent sense. This view is strengthened by psychological considerations. 174 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. Hunger, thirst, sexual desire, and a great number of other sensations in the sympathetic system, are so distinctly sui generis, that only great laxity in discrimination can allow them to be classified with the "general sense of feeling." This is best illustrated by the system of provings of drugs upon the healthy body, which was introduced by Hahnemann and has been continued by his followers, consisting of the closest obser- vation of subjective symptoms arising from the drugs taken; symptoms, by the way, which frequently are of the highest importance in the selection of the corresponding remedy in a given case of disease, but hidden from the self-styled "physi- ological " school by their crude ignorance of the finer shades of drug action. Still, it must be admitted, as has been in- timated, that a distinction between sensations of the sym- pathetic system and the general sense of feeling is not practic- able in every given case, because these sensations are of the lowest order of conscious development, and the sympathetic nerves are so intimately interwoven with cerebro-spinal fila- ments, that anatomical research has not been able as yet to trace them separately to their respective terminations. 73. General Sensibility, or Common or General Sense of Feeling. The nerves through which the general sense of feeling finds expression are cranio-spinal nerves, and their action is said to differ from the other " special " sensory nerves in that a stimulation of the same causes pain. Now, this assumption rests wholly upon the crude observations which have been mainly made by cutting, pinching, and cauterizing. The stimulation of these nerves does not cause pain, unless it is an O'yer-stimulation, and an overstimulation will certainly, and in the case of every nerve, cause pain. In fact, overstimula- tion of a nerve is the very definition of pain (25). Pain is always and everywhere the product of an overstimulation in any of the sensory nerves, and it cannot, therefore, be con- sidered as a special phenomenon of the general sense of feeling. Beside, pain is very different in its character, according to GENERAL SENSIBILITY. 175 the nature of the stimulus which causes it, and the nature of the organs in which this overstimulation takes place. Fire burns, acrid things smart, a blow stuns, a fall causes bruised pain, and so on. Overstimulations in the nerves of mucous membranes are frequently characterized as burning, affec- tions of serous membranes mostly as acute stitching, affections of bones as boring, affections of muscles as bruised, sore, lan- cinating sensations, and so on ; while neuralgia proper assumes all sorts of painful sensations, such as burning, stinging, throbbing, beating, etc. This being so, it is plain that "pain" is only a general expression signifying overstimulation of sentient nerves. Since overstimulation may be caused by the most varied stimuli, and takes widely diverse and opposite forms even in the same organ, pain cannot be considered as the special function of the general sense of feeling. In the explication of these particular sensations, however, we must always bear in mind that in the lower senses it is frequently most difficult, and sometimes impossible, to decide absolutely whether certain sensations originate in the sympa- thetic system, or in sentient nerves of the cranio-spinal system, for reasons above stated. There are forms of hemicrania, for instance, which undoubtedly seem to be caused, according to Du Bois-Reymond's observations, by an irritation of the cer- vical portion of the sympathetica, causing tetanus of the mus- cular coats in the vessels of the affected side ; while on the other hand numerous other forms of neuralgia appear to have nothing to do with the sympatheticus. Such are the neu- ralgias of the facial, intercostal, crural, sciatic, and other nerves by irritation of some kind, and the numb feeling, the crawling and tingling, etc., from pressure and the like upon them, or from pressure upon or disease of, their centres. As further instances of the functions of the general sense of feeling, may be mentioned the sensations w T e receive from the coolness or warmth of the atmosphere, and from its sultriness, dampness, or dryness ; also the sensations of tickling, irritation, itching, burning, etc., caused by various agents, when applied to the skin, or to its inverted portions, the mucous membranes of the respiratory organs, or the alimentary canal ; also sensations of 176 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. comfort or distress, which well-fitting or ill-fitting apparel may produce. In these last instances we see that sensations of the general sense of feeling border closely on the sensations derived from the sense of touch. Anatomical researches fully explain this. We find the tactile corpuscles and terminal bulbs of Krause spread, to some degree, over a large portion of the general surface, so that a commingling of both kinds of sensa- tions must frequently take place. What we know thus far of the terminations of nerves min- istering to what we call general sensibility, as distinguished from the sense of touch, is the following: Non-medullated nerve-fibres pass to the true skin between the cells of the rete Malpighii. There they assume the form of small cells, which lie between the cells of the lower stratum of the rete, from which still smaller filaments issue toward the upper stratum, and finally, somewhat enlarged, terminate beneath the stra- tum corneum. These nerve-fibres have no connection with the tactile corpuscles. (Paul Langerhaus, Virchow's Arcltiv, vol. 44, p. 325 ; Max Schultze, in Strieker's Lehre von den Gewe- ben, vii, p. 136.) Further: " Medullated nerve-fibres form a plexus in the deeper layers of the true skin, from which fibres, some pale and nucleated, and others medullated, pass to the hair-follicles (Kolliker), divide into branches, penetrate into the interior, and there are lost. A certain number of fibres pass to the non-striated muscular fibres of the skin ; a certain number pass to the papilke that have no tactile corpuscles. In the mucous membranes the mode of termination is, in general terms, in a delicate plexus just beneath the epithelium, coming from a submucous plexus analogous to the deep cuta- neous plexus." (Austin Flint, Nervous System, p. 44.) The nerves of touch, on the other hand, terminate in tactile cor- puscles, probably also in the terminal bulbs of Krause, and in Vater's or Pacini's corpuscles. The difference between general sensibility and touch is also proved by the fact that when the tactile corpuscles have been destroyed (by ulceration, for instance), touch is gone, but pain may be produced ; or that the sense of temperature may be lost, while the sense of touch still remains. Now, these two lowest senses, that of the THE MUSCULAR SENSE AND THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 177 sympathetic system and that of the sentient cranio-spinal nerves (called the general sense of feeling), we might designate as vital senses in contradistinction to those yet to be considered (the organic senses), as their office seems to be to announce the regularity or irregularity in which the functiones vitales of the organism are performed. The sense of the sympathetic system seems to be acted upon mainly by stimuli within the organ- ism itself, while the sense of general feeling receives impres- sions from external stimuli. But this distinction is of no great importance, inasmuch as the stimuli within the organism itself are just as well external to the recipient nerves as those which come from outside of the body, to stimulate all the other sensory nerves. 74. The Muscular Sense and the Sense of Touch. " The muscles undoubtedly possess nerve-fibres other than those exclusively devoted to motion ; for, in addition to the motory fibres, Kolliker and some others have noted fibres with a different mode of termination. These Kolliker be- lieves to be sensitive nerves, but their mode of termination has not been so definitely described as in the fibres with ter- minal motor j)lates." (Austin Flint, Nervous System, p. 33.) " The muscles, too, possess sensibility, but it is of a peculiar nature, as stinging, burning or cutting do not cause any note- worthy sensations, but they feel sore from long-continued action, become painful from convulsive contractions or press- ure, and have a very fine feeling of their own contraction, to such a degree, that they discern the slightest differences in their exertions needed for different exercises." (Kolliker, Mikroskopische Anatomie, Vol. I, p. 267.) " There can be no doubt that in every exertion of the will upon the muscular system w r e are guided by the sensations communicated through the afferent nerves, which indicate to the sensoriurn the state of the muscle. Many interesting cases are on record which show the necessity of this muscular sense for determining voluntary contraction of the muscle. Thus Sir C. Bell (who first prominently directed attention to 178 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. this class of facts under the designation of the nervous circle) mentions an instance of a woman who was deprived of it in her arms without losing the motor power, and who stated that she could not sustain anything in her hands (not even her child) by the strongest effort of her will, unless she kept her eyes constantly fixed upon it, the muscles losing their jDOwer and the hands dropping the object as soon as the eyes were withdrawn from it. Here the employment of the visual sense supplied the deficiency of the muscular." (Carpenter, Comparative Physiology, p. 680.) " I have seen a similar instance recently of a woman, epi- leptic in consequence of syphilis, who had lost the muscular sense in her left arm, and who did not know, except she looked at the limb, whether she had got hold of anything with her hand or not; if she grasped a jug she could hold it quite well as long as she looked at it, but if she looked away she then dropped it; she had no loss of tactile sensation. Ollivier details a case in which the patient had lost the cutaneous sense of touch throughout the side in consequence of concussion. At the same time he was able to form a correct estimate of the weight with his right hand. The physician, observed by Marcet, who was affected with anaesthesia cutanea of the right side, was perfectly able to feel his patient's pulse with the fin- gers of the right hand, and to determine its frequency and force, but in order to determine the temperature of the skin he was obliged to call in the aid of his left hand." (Maudsley, The Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, p. 174.) This muscular sense is extended over all the voluntary muscles, to which it is the indispensable guide for their actions. The wonderful adaption of movement of both eyes for seeing purposes; the no less wonderful concert in the action of the muscles to produce talking and singing ; the skilful exercises of the hands which the artist as violinist, pianist, painter, or engraver, etc., which the mechanic, the writer, the seamstress, etc., perform ; the motions of the legs and body in walking, jumping, dancing, and gymnastic exercises, and so on. None of these would be possible without a muscular sense, an ability to perceive the exact state of muscular tension or relaxation, THE SENSE OF TASTE AND THE SENSE OF SMELL. 179 and an exact estimation of the degree of contraction necessary for a required motion. This implies, indeed, not only the very great acuteness of the muscular sense, but also the great celerity with which the impressions upon it are received and executed. The sense of touch is anatomically easily distinguished by its tactile corpuscles, and probably also by Krause's terminal bulbs, which bear some analogy to the tactile corpuscles and Vater's corpuscles, but are much smaller and more simple in their structure. They are found in the conjunctiva bulbi, the lips, the floor of the buccal cavity, the tongue, the glans penis and the clitoris. The functional action of the sense of touch is very closely blended with that of the muscular sense. By both we perceive the externality of things, their extension, form, hardness, softness, roughness, smoothness, etc.; but this is possible only by certain muscular motions and a fine estima- tion of the force applied necessary to appreciate the form of external objects, which, as has been stated, is the particular office of the muscular sense. We become conscious of the extension, form, roughness, or smoothness of things by moving our fingers over their surfaces, and their hardness or softness reveals itself to our consciousness if we make a certain pressure upon them, and thus find, by estimating the force required to change their form, the actual resistance of the substances against pressure; that is, their hardness or softness. 75. The Sense of Taste and the Sense of Smell. A part of the glossopharyngeal, which is the smallest of the three divisions of the eighth pair, and a small filament from the facial to the lingual branch of the fifth pair, unite to form what are collectively called the gustatory nerves. According to the researches of Eemak and Kolliker, there is a difference between the microscopical terminal structures of the glosso-pharyngeus and lingualis. The first terminates in microscopic ganglia, which the lingualis does not possess (compare Kolliker 's Mikroscopische Anatomie, Vol. II, p. 32), and 180 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. it is quite possible that this difference in their terminal ar- rangement determines also a difference in their functions. The principal localities of taste are the upper surface of the root of the tongue (especially the papillae circumvallatce), the edges of the tip of the tongue, and probably also the front part of the soft palate. The terminal apparatus of gustation, only lately discovered and described by Loven and Schwalbe, consists of numerous microscopic groups of cells, which are superimposed upon the fibres of the glosso-pharyngeus, and which have been called gustatory buds (" Geschmacks-Knospen" by Loven, and " Schmeckbecher" by Schwalbe). These buds are imbedded within the little cavities formed by the epithelium of the mucous membrane, which they completely fill out. The form of these cavities resembles that of a round-bellied bottle or retort; their bottoms rest upon the surface of the connective tissue of the mucosa, and their necks pierce the stratum corneum of the epithelium, where they form a circular opening or mouth. The gustatory buds are frequently found by hundreds on the lateral portions of the papillae circumval- latae, in less number on the lateral portions of the papillae fungiformes. They consist of fifteen to thirty ellipsoidal cells, which are arranged in a manner similar to the leaflets of a flower bud. Their upper or peripheral portion gradually tapers off in width, and terminates near the mouth of the cavity, either in the shape of a peg (" Stiftchen") or in the shape of a rod. Their bodies consist of a vesicle-like nucleus, while their lower cyl- indrical extremity at a short distance from the nucleus, dimin- ishes suddenly to one-third the size of the upper process, and splits into two somewhat smaller branches, which again divide once or several times before they reach the surface of the mucosa. The connection of the nerve-fibres with these gus- tatory buds has not been yet fully ascertained. We know only that the fibres of the glosso-pharyngeus, shortly before their entrance into the papillae circumvallatae, contain micro- scopic groups of ganglion cells. From here several bundles of fibres enter the papillae and divide into numerous fine, winding and decussating filaments, which radiate toward the epithelium. These filaments split into still finer branches and, THE SENSE OF TASTE AND THE SENSE OF SMELL. 181 close beneath the epithelium, form a plexus. Most probably these finest filaments connect with the lower part of the gus- tatory buds. (Th. W. Engelmann, in Strieker's Handbuch der Lehre von den Geweben, p. 822.) The sense of smell has for its instrument the olfactory nerve, distributed to that portion of the mucous membrane lining about the upper third of the nose, and called the olfactory region. This surface is covered with epithelium, which con- sists of two layers, an outer or ciliary and an inner or cellular layer. The cells of the inner layer are of two kinds, larger ones of oval shape, situate more peripherally than the more numerous smaller cells, which are of spherical shape, lie lower in the inner layer, have two long and fine processes, of which the upper and thicker goes to the periphery, while the lower may be traced to the stratum of the subepithelial connective tissue. The upper terminates in the fine cilia above mentioned as the outer layer of the epithelium. These cells, with their terminal appendices, constitute, according to Max Schultze, the terminal apparatus of the sense of smell. How the peripheral cells of the organ of smell are connected with the olfactory nerve- fibres has not yet been fully demonstrated. It is probable, however, that the smallest fibrils of the olfactory nerve are in some way connected with the lower processes of the olfactory cells. (Babuchin, in Strieker's Handbuch, p. 964.) Smell and taste are closely related. We may perceive the same property of an object nearly alike with either of these senses. For instance, " sour or sweet," etc., can be recognized by both senses, and in the middle high German the expression for tasting and smelling is still not clearly separated by distinct words for either. The nature of the stimuli which excite the gustatory, as well as the olfactory nerves, we do not know. "We only know that the gustatory sense requires them in a fluid and the olfactory in a gaseous form ; that they probably appertain to the chemical constitution of different bodies, and also that we cannot become cognizant of them by any of the other senses. 182 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. '6. The Sense of Hearing. With even greater perfection than the preceding senses we find the terminal arrangements of the sense of hearing con- structed. Max Schultze found in the internal ear, especially in the vestibule and ampullae, the terminal fibres of the audi- tory nerve project through the epithelium and terminate in fine fibrils or cilia. The termination of the auditory nerve in the cochlea, which Corti first described, is a wonderfully com- plex and fine mechanism, in which rows of fibres with pedun- culated cells are found combined in such a manner as to forcibly suggest to the mind a striking resemblance to the keys and strings of a piano. It is difficult, however, to decide which of these terminal structures are nervous and which are not. The external stimuli, or the sounds which originate in the various ways by which the surrounding air is thrown into a state of vibration, have to take the following course before they reach the recipient faculties. At first they wind their way through the external meatus, and cause a corresponding vibra- tion of the membrana tympani. This vibration is transferred through the ossicles from the tympanum to the membrane covering the fenestra ovalis, which again sets into vibration the fluid contained within the labyrinth, and thus the original external stimulus finally reaches the wonderfully constructed mechanism within the labyrinth. There are about three thousand fibres of varying length and tension contained within the walls of the cochlea. They are regularly arranged side by side like the keys of a piano, and their functions have been explained by Helmholtz on the theory of the sympathy of sounds. It is generally known that strings of the same length and tension, when in close neighborhood, commence to vibrate if only one is set in motion, and that they all sound if the impulse upon the first is strong enough to cause a sufficient intensity of vibration. In case, however, of strings of different tension and length, although lying in close neighborhood, the vibration of one may cause the other to move but not to sound, as the degree of movement of their vibrations is altogether dif- ferent. In like manner, according to Helmholtz, out of the THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 183 numerous and variously tuned fibres of Corti, only those answer to external impulses which correspond according to their length and tension with these impulses; and thus it is possible, for instance, to discern in a complicated piece of music the many and various notes even singly. Of course this requires a perfect and well-tuned mechanism of Corti's fibres within the ear. But even here the course of the external stimuli has not ended, for these fibres do not hear, they merely vibrate, and not until this peculiar stimulation is transmitted by special nerve-filaments of the auditorius to the central organ is this vibration perceived as sound or noise. 77. The Sense of Sight. The sense of sight is the most perfect of all the senses. After the optic nerve has made its entrance into the bulb of the eye at a place called the papilla nervi optici — or sometimes the blind spot of the retina, from the fact that it is not suscep- tible to the impressions of light — its filaments, losing their medullary substance, spread in all directions and form partly the anterior layer of the retina, which joins by its limiting membrane the hyaloid membrane of the vitreous body. Back of this expansion of the non-medullated optic nerve-fibres there have been distinctly traced several other layers, which consti- tute the retina, and which, in the order from front to back, are as follows : A layer of ganglion cells ; a layer of gray nervous substance, which is a fine granular layer, and which has also been called the inner fibrous layer ; a layer of granule cells, or the inner granular layer ; an intermediate granular layer, or the outer fibrous layer ; an outer granular layer, and the layer of rods and cones. The terminal parts of the rods and cones consist, according to recent researches of Max Schultze, of ex- tremely fine and transparent lamellae, which are bounded by the dark pigment of the choroidea. They appear of different thicknesses, but are so fine that from thirty thousand to seventy thousand would be required to make one inch of thickness The various colors of a soap-bubble furnish the instance 184 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. most popularly known, in which fine lamellae, although color- less in themselves, assume various colors when they reach a certain degree of tenuity, and the degree of tenuity determines the color they reflect. It is possible, then, although it is not proved as yet, that this terminal structure of the rods and cones of the retina responds to the various colors of light in a similar manner as the fibres of Corti in the cochlea answer to their corresponding sounds; and, as Max Schultze has further observed, that the terminal filaments of the optic nerve-fibres are accessories to the rods and cones on which they exteriorly lean, it appears, and it is thus histologically scarcely to be doubted, that the vibrations of light first communicated to the lamellae of either the rods or cones, accordingly as they corres- pond, are thus transmitted to special terminal nerve-filaments, by which they are conveyed to the central organ. It is thus not the eye that sees, although its wonderful construction is the necessary condition for the reception of the vibrations of the ether, causing light. 78. Stimuli, Excitants, or External Stimuli. It may be here stated in general, that it is not the external things themselves which act as stimuli upon the recipient organs, but that it is only certain qualities of the same which, being varied and different, require for their reception sensory organs constructed in reciprocal relation to them. From this consideration alone it may be surmised that the knowledge we gain of the external world will never amount to an adequate cognition (" An-sich-Erkenntniss "), but will remain forever a cognition of its effects (" Wirkungs-Erkentniss ") only. So far as the luminous stimuli have been investigated, we are told by physicists that they consist, like those of heat, of various vibrations of the ether. The relatively greatest rapid- ity is produced by the violet rays of the spectrum, while the relatively slowest motion is that of the red rays. Above and below these in rapidity of vibration are still others, which, however, cease to excite our visual apparatus under usual con- ditions. Those equalling and exceeding the violet rays in STIMULI, EXCITANTS, OR EXTERNAL STIMULI. 185 rapidity of vibration are called actinic (chemical) rays, while those below the rapidity of the red rays are perceived as heat. Now, if all this be correct, and if smell and taste are per- ceivers of the chemical constitution of external bodies, and the nerves of general sensibility perceivers of heat (beside other qualities), we would recognize the most rapid vibrations of the ether by smell and taste, and the slowest by the nerves of general sensibility. Provided that these investigations are correct, we would be capable of seeing chemical as well as thermic vibrations of the ether, if the terminal apparatus of the optic nerve had been made responsive to them. It appears, then, that what we call light, luminous stimulus, or visual excitant, is practically limited to boundaries fixed by the terminal structure of the eye. There are indeed cases of innate incapability for seeing certain colors, as for instance the extreme red, which would denote an unusual narrowing of the natural visual limit. An extension above or below the fixed limits of normal human vision is unknown, and whether it may or may not exist in the various species of animals has never been ascertained. The auditory stimuli consist of vibrations of the air, which, according to Helmholtz's measurements, range between sixteen vibrations to thirty-eight thousand in a second. This, how- ever, relates only to very fine ears ; less delicately constructed organs do not perceive audible vibrations to such an extent. Thus, for instance, it is asserted that some people are absolutely deaf to the song of a lark, the chirping of a locust, or the scream of a bat, but have no other than this one special audi- tory disqualification. The real musical tones are limited in their rapidity to a range between forty and four thousand vibrations in a second, while, as has been stated, the range of audible sounds in general is much wider. The question, then, comes up, do vibrations that overpass these limits at either extreme produce no sound whatever? Or, are there no other sounds than those which lie within the boundaries of sixteen and thirty-eight thousand vibrations in a second ? For the human ear, it seems, there are none ; but it is surely conceivable that among the lower orders of animals 13 18G PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. some may possess organs so constructed both for producing and receiving sound, that there exists for them a range and a variety of vibrations where the human ear perceives absolutely none. The stimuli which act upon the olfactory and gustatory nerve- fibres are probably, as has been stated, related to the chemical constitution of external bodies, and as such would exceed in rapidity the visual vibrations of the ether. We have no further knowledge of them. The stimuli for the sense of touch and the muscular sense seem to consist of various degrees of pressure and traction upon the corresponding sensory nerves. It does not matter whether this pressure or traction be caused by the motion of external things, or by the motion of our own muscles in relation to them. In either case it is motion by which we become cogni- zant of the quality of resistance which external things mani- fest when in contact with our own body, and w T hich w r e recog- nize by the joint action of the sense of touch and the muscular sense. We may state, then, that even in the case of these senses the essential character of their stimulation consists of motion. This relates probabty in some degree, also, to the stimuli w r hich act upon the sentient nerves, or the sense of general feeling ; although a very important part of their action seems to consist in the perception of heat, which again, as has been stated, is motion, namely, the vibration of the ether, of less rapidity than that of the red ra}^s of the spectrum. The nature of the stimuli by w T hich the sympathetic nervous system is affected, is wrapped in still greater mystery, but con- sists probably to a great extent of the molecular motions un- ceasingly going on within the living organism. So long as these motions proceed in harmony, they are not perceptible ; only an excess or deficiency in their action, that is, a disturb- ance in the equilibrium of the natural molecular motion, manifests itself in corresponding sensation. One must have been a prover of drugs in order to be capable of appreciating this wonderful reaction of the human organism against even the finest agencies. THE SENSORY NERVE-CENTRES. 187 We may, then, sum up and define the various stimuli which excite corresponding sensory organs, as agencies (the essential nature of which consists in motion) of motion of the ether, of the air, of solids, of fluids, and of molecules. 79. The Sensory Nerve-Centres. The origins of the nerves are far from being discovered. We know only that they centre in the gray matter or in the vesicular nervous substance (distinguished from the white by its dark reddish-gray color and soft consistence). It is com- posed in great part, as its name implies, of vesicles or corpuscles, commonly called nerve or ganglion corpuscles, containing nuclei and nucleoli. These nerve-corpuscles vary in size and shape. Some are larger than others ; some have one, two or more processes, which occasionally divide and subdivide into numerous branches, and terminate in fine transparent fibres, which either become lost among the other elements, or maybe traced until they become continuous with an ordinary nerve- fibre. Of gray matter we may distinguish the following groups : 1. The peripheral layer of the cerebrum, or its cortical gray ; 2. The conglomerations of gray matter in the cerebral ganglia (corpora quadrigemina, thalami optici, and corpora striata), the ganglionic gray ; 3. The gray matter which lines the ventricular surfaces from the tuber cinereum to the conus medullaris, the central or cavity gray ; 4. The gray matter of the superficial and deep layers of the cerebellum, and the gray substance which lies imbedded between the fibrous matter of the cerebrum and the cere- bellum ; and, 5. The gray matter of the numerous ganglia outside the brain and spinal cord. (Compare Meynert, in Strieker, 1872.) The optic nerve arises from the ganglionic gray of the thalami optici, of the corpora geniculata, which appear like appendices to the thalamus, and of the corpora quadrigemina. These variously derived fibres combine in one flattened band, 188 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. the optic tract, where they are again joined by some fibres issuing from a small yellow stria of spindle-shaped nerve- cells, which is inserted between the substantia perforata an- terior and the optic tract. A similar augmentation of fibres takes place in the anterior surface of the chiasma or com- missure from the lamina cinerea terminalis and the pedunculus corporis callosi. (Compare Henle, Ncrvenlehre, p. 248, etc.) Physiological experiments do not seem to agree fully with these anatomical researches. For, although the destruction of the corpora quadrigemina is followed by blindness, or the destruction of the bulbus by atrophy of the corpora quadri- gemina (in both cases of the opposite side), experiments with the thalamus have not sustained its anatomical relation to the optic nerve. The fibres derived from it serve probably some other purpose or purposes thus far unknown, while the actual capability of receiving the external luminous stimuli seems to be located within the corpora quadrigemina. The structure of these bodies is quite complex, and their connection with other parts of the brain is manifold. The auditory nerve (Sommering's eighth pair and Willis' portio mollis of the seventh pair) arises from the central gray around the floor of the fourth ventricle. According to Henle (Nervenlehre, p. 208, etc.), it has three nuclei from which it issues, a superior, inferior and lateral. The relation, however, which these different roots bear to the different parts of the inner ear, and whether the division of the auditory nerve into the nervus cochlea? and nervus vestibuli is founded in its dif- ferent roots, or whether the additional fibres of the nervus facialis and nervus intermedins bring any new and peculiar elements into its functions, is not yet known. The olfactory nerve, or the first pair of cranial nerves, is the only sensory nerve which takes its origin in the cortical gray, namely, in the inferior surface of the anterior lobe of the cere- brum. It arises from three roots, an external or long, a middle or gray, and an internal or short root. By these roots the nerve is connected with various parts of the lobe and the great ganglia of the brain. In uniting, these radical fibres form the olfactory nerve, which, in its course forward, expands into the THE SENSORY NERVE-CENTRES. 189 bulbus olfactorius, from which numerous filaments depart to be distributed over the olfactory region of the nose. The gustatory nerves, consisting of part of the glosso-pharyn- geus and part of the trigeminus, both arise from the central gray of the floor of the fourth ventricle. (Henle, Nervenlehre, p. 221.) How they act together or differ in their function of gustation is entirely unknown. A still greater want of positive knowledge (anatomically as well as physiologically) we meet when we wish to trace the nerves of touch, of the muscular sense, and of the "common or general feeling " to their respective origins. Indeed, in this respect we know only that they arise from the central and cavity gray of the spinal marrow, with the exception of those sentient nerve-fibres which, as the greater portion of the trigeminus and the sentient part of the glosso-pharyngeus, take their origin within the central gray of the floor of the fourth ventricle. But of the origin of their separate fibres as distinguished by different functional qualities, we know nothing at all. Lusanna thinks (Meissner's Jahresbericht, 1870), that the nerves of the muscular sense have their centre in the cere- bellum, as injury or extirpation of the same is attended with a loss of equilibrium in motion, which equilibrium, according to his view, is sustained by a healthy operation of the muscu- lar sense. But as, according to Schiff, animals which have been deprived of their cerebellum, if they remain alive, regain after a lapse of some time the regular use of their limbs, Lusanna's and also Flourens' hypothesis — according to which latter the cerebellum is the centre of co-ordinate motions — becomes doubtful, as an extirpated centre could hardly ever find its functions compensated by any other organ.* In short, we are not yet able to trace the nerves of general sensibility to separate origins, which would in any way correspond to and explain their actually different functional qualities. Regarding the " molecular" sense, if I may use this expression * Still more recent experiments of Nothnagel, Fritsch and Hitzig seem to place the centre of the muscular sense in the external end of the post-frontal convolution. ( Brown-Sequard's Archives, 1873.) 190 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. to signify the sensations we receive through the ganglionic or sympathetic nervous system, it appears that its nerves originate in the gray matter of the very numerous ganglia outside the brain and spinal cord, which are found in the two gangliated cords, one on each side of the vertebral column, from the base of the skull to the coccyx, and also numerously in such organs as minister specially to the generative and vegetative functions of life. The cells of the sympathetic ganglia have for the most part several processes ; they are, as it is termed technically, multipolar. These processes are either continuous w r ith nerve- fibres, or serve as communications with other cells. Beale and J. Arnold have independently discovered that in the ganglion cells of the sympatheticus there are two kinds of filaments, a straight one, and a spiral one wound around the straight one. As to the manner of their origin within the cells histologists do not agree, neither do they know the physiological meaning of these different processes. The sympathetic system is inti- mately connected with the cerebro-spinal centres by the rami communicantes, which consist of fibres running from the spinal marrow to the sympatheticus and, vice versa, from the sympa- theticus to the spinal cord. (Compare Dr. Sigmund Mayer, in Strieker, p. 809 et seq.) 80. The Sensory Faculties. All these investigations do not, it appears, bring us much nearer to an understanding as to how and where our sensorial perceptions take place. The origins of the sensory nerves are still more or less wrapped in mystery. What has hitherto been taken for granted, viz. : that all the nerves arise from ganglionic cells, and that, therefore, not only sensorial percep- tions, but all mental activities originate by some sort of chemi- cal and molecular action within these cells, seems likely to prove fallacious. If the latest researches of Max Schultze are correct, it appears that the nerve-cell is essentially only an enlargement, with nucleus and nucleoli, of the axis-cylinder; that, therefore, it does not represent the beginning, but is merely an intervening expansion of the nerve in its course. THE SENSORY FACULTIES. 191 The bipolar cell is to be so considered. In the case of the multipolar cells of the spinal marrow, from which, according to Deiters' discovery, an axis-cylinder issues to pass toward the periphery, while many other processes spread in different directions, the cell appears to be an intermediate station for the convergence of innumerable nerve-fibrils from different regions, in order to unite and form one axis-cylinder. Even here the axis-cylinder cannot be considered as originating within the nerve-cell. It is only made up there like the bulk of a main stream, from numerous tributaries, the source of which no one has yet discovered. The researches of Deiters also make it probable that the groups of ganglion cells, from which the cranial nerves arise, and . which have been made known by Stilling as the nuclei of sensory roots, consist of cells in form entirely similar to those of the anterior and posterior cornua of the spinal marrow, and that they, like these, send off only one axis-cylinder, which passes toward the periphery, while the other processes divide into innumerable primitive fibrils. (Compare Max Schultze, in Strieker's Handbuch der Lehre von den Geweben, 1872, p. 125 et seq.) If, then, we regard these researches as correct, we are still as far off from the discovery of the origin of these nerves (and what concerns us here especially, of the sensory nerves) than ever before. What thus far has been considered the source, has, under the trained eye of the histologist, been resolved into innumerable primitive fibrils that defy all tracing. The receptacles of the external stimuli and the laboratories for the sensations derived therefrom are gone. The nerve-cells turn out to be mere stations, where primitive fibrils from various regions meet, in order to form new combinations. And what seems particularly ominous for the old belief, this beginning of the nerves corresponds exactly to their peripheral termination. Apparently, in both the periphery and begin- ning, there is a splitting into innumerable primitive fibrils. To what purpose ? To meet on the one side external stimuli, the exact nature of which is covered with mystery ; and, on the other side, to communicate with a something that equally eludes our keenest scrutiny. Much nearer the truth appear to be Beale's researches. (Compare 94.) 192 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. The honor is due to Henle, that amidst the strong current of " scientific" fashion and materialistic preclusions, he stands out boldly, and declares: "Only self-deceit can assert that a being (Wesen) which comprises all the manifold past and present modifications of our nerve-life into the union of self- consciousness, could be better understood by considering it a monad fixed in a certain place, than to regard it as an impon- derable which pervades the entire body." (Henle, Nervenlehre, p. 14, 1871.) This verdict of a savant, whom no one can accuse of ignorance of the anatomical and physiological researches of the present day, brings us a step farther in our investiga- tions. His acknowledgment of an imponderable being, the soul, which pervades the entire bod) 7 , places him in direct opposition to those who regard mental life as a chemical and molecular activity and development of the nerve-cells. It behooves us to examine more particularly into the merits of this materialistic belief. The belief that mental action consists in a chemical and molecular activity and development of the nerve-cells took its origin in the fact that a destruction of the brain involves a cessation of mental activity. Later, more exact experiments showed that a separation of the brain from the spinal column, although it withdrew the parts below the separation from all influence of the mind, did not deprive these parts of the capa- bility of becoming excited by external stimuli. A complete extinction of their sensibility could be induced only by their separation from the spinal cord also. These results, based upon these conditions, led to the belief that it was the gray substance in which all nerve-force originated, and that the nerves themselves were only the conductors of this force. There is not a book on physiology in which we do not find this view expounded and illustrated by the phenomena of the telegraph, to make it comprehensible even to the dullest mind. As further microscopic investigation detected the gray substance crowded with innumerable nerve-cells, the theory was en- larged by the additional point, that these nerve-cells were the real source of mental activity, or still more pointedly in the language of the materialistic school, that what we call mind THE SENSORY FACULTIES. 193 consisted in the chemical and molecular action and develop- ment of these nerve-cells. How slim a chance this belief will stand in the future may easily be judged, if the latest discoveries of Max Schultze, men- tioned above, should prove to be correct. But independent of Schultze's discoveries, the belief has an unstable basis. The experiments of Flourens, always cited in proof of this theory, in reality deal it a disastrous, even fatal, blow. This eminent physiologist removed the cerebrum, slice by slice, from pigeons, and the results consequent upon the operation are quoted in support of the view that it is by the chemical and molecular action and development of the nerve-cells of the cerebrum, especially of its cortical layer, that mental activity is origi- nated ; but every anatomist knows that the cortical layer of the cerebrum is so thin that it would be removed with the first slice. This theory demands that with this removal there should be at least a proportionate decrease in the pigeon's mental faculties. Unfortunately, the issue does not bear out these expectations. The pigeon retains its faculties fully, until the last trace of the hemispheres is removed, and then — and only then — it at once sinks into utter stupidity. If, during this operation, a small portion of cerebral substance, which princi- pally consists of white matter, is left, intelligence retains its hold ; and thus it is proved physiologically, that psychical functions may, and really do, continue in spite of the loss of a considerable portion of the cerebrum and most of its gray matter, and that, therefore, the nerve-cells cannot be the real source of mental development. Beside this, the materialistic view encounters still other dif- ficulties. " Although," says Henle, " a specific difference of the nerve-fibres may be denied, if their specific faculties are con- sidered as reactions of the central parts from which they issue, the specific nature of their terminations cannot be doubted, as they react against external influences quite differently, and as especially the single sensory nerves show an exclusive demeanor toward the so-called adequate stimuli, light, sound, flavors, etc. Now, how is the ' conduction ' of these adequate stimuli through the sensory nerves into the brain to be understood ? 194 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. It cannot be taken as a propagation of the vibrations of light and sound. The physical nature of the nerves forbids us to accept such a suggestion. Beside, it is disproved by the fact that these nerves, between their terminations and the brain, can be excited only by general stimuli (pressure, electricity, and the like), and not by their adequate stimuli, as is conclu- sively shown by Marriotte's experiment, which proves the retina blind at the spot where the optic nerve enters. The vibrations, therefore, w r hich the external stimuli cause in the terminal apparatus must be transmitted to the nerve-fibres through which they pass, as an inconceivable quality, in order to be again transformed in the central termination of the nerve, where they are finally received as sensations. The theory is certainly not, as I have already remarked on former occasions, characterized by any degree of simplicity. The complication grows still greater by its application to those senses by means of which we receive impressions of the extension, form and size of things. Is it conceivable that the nerve-fibres of touch and sight, after all the inosculations and decussations of their branches and bundles, should place them- selves in the brain in exactly the order in which they issue from the terminal apparatus ? And if this were not the case, or if, as it often happens by the transplantation of a piece of skin, the position of the internal terminations become changed, what a confusion would it cause in the correspond- ence of the mind with the nerves of touch ! About the same as would ensue if two telegraph wires were cut, and when repaired their ends were united in wrong directions. We escape all these difficulties if we place the nervous processes which manifest themselves in sensation and motion in the nerve-fibres instead of the gray substance, and thus admit that the sensorial perceptions take place within the sensory organs themselves. The connection between the sensory organs and the brain remains, nevertheless, an indispensable condition. . . . But if usage constrains us to consider the external stimuli to pass through the nerves into the brain, we have an equal right to conceive the nerves as the avenues through which the psychical agency transmits itself outward." (Henle, Nervenlehre, p. 13, 1871.) THE SENSORY FACULTIES. 195 To this I shall add the following passage from Dubois-Rey- mond : " The minutest knowledge of the brain, the highest which we can obtain of it, reveals nothing in it but matter in motion. By no imaginable device in the arrangement and motion of material particles, however, can a bridge be made into the domain of consciousness. Motion can produce only motion, or be transformed back to potential energy. Potential energy can produce only motion, can sustain static equi- librium, can exercise pressure or traction. The sum of the energy remains in all these processes ever the same. More than that which is conditioned by this law cannot take place in the corporeal world, and not less either; the mechanical cause is spent entirely in the mechanical effect. The mental processes, which are accompanied by certain material pro- cesses in the brain, fail, therefore, to have a sufficient cause for our understanding. They stand outside of the causal nexus, and are, therefore, incomprehensible as much as a mobile per- petuum would be. It appears to a superficial observation as though certain mental processes and capabilities, as for in- stance memory, the flow and association of mental modifica- tions, dispositions, habits, etc., might be understood by the knowledge of material processes within the brain ; but the least reflection shows that this is a delusion. We would be- come informed only of certain internal conditions of mental phenomena, much like those external conditions which are required for sensorial impressions ; but we never would draw any knowledge of the originating of the mental phenomena by these conditions. What is the conceivable connection between certain motions of certain atoms in my brain and the original, indefinable, yet undeniable facts, that 'I feel pain or pleasure; that I taste something sweet, or smell the fragrance of a rose, or hear the sound of an organ, or see a red object,' and the consequent conclusion and immediate certainty, that ' I exist'? It is absolutely and forever incomprehensible, why it should not be a matter of entire indifference how a given number of atoms of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, etc., are situate and move, or how they have been situated and been moving, or how they shall be situate and move in the future. In no 196 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. way is it conceivable, how consciousness could originate by their co-operation." (Einil Dubois-Reymond, Ueber die Grenzen des Natiirerkennens. Leipzig, 1872.) From all this it appears that the prevailing materialistic belief cannot boast of an unshaken foundation. Its mainstay, that the ganglionic cells of the gray matter are the receptacles and laboratory for external stimuli, has been made very problematic by the latest microscopical investigations of Max Schultze; that the gray substance of the brain is the real source of mental action, has been conclusively disproved by the physiological experiments of Flourens ; that this theory does not simplify, but complicates difficulties that exist in regard to the explanation of psychical developments, has been shown by Henle ; and that it is inconceivable how material processe.3 can ever produce conscious, psychical phenomena, even of the lowest order, has been demonstrated by Dubois- Reymond. For these reasons we shall maintain that the sensorial activity is dependent upon a psychic force, differing in its nature from the gray matter, its cells and its finest nerve- fibrils, as much as the external elements differ in their nature from the terminal ends of the sensory nerves. It is not with- out significance that Max Schultze finds the nerves dividing into innumerable fibrils at either end — at the point where they so long have been supposed to originate, and at the point where they terminate toward the external world. Strictly speaking, then, there is neither an origin nor a termination of the nerves. They exist as an indispensable apparatus, as a medium between the realms of psychic and corporeal forces, communicating with each other by innumerable attachments and at innumerable points. In consequence of this communi- cation by means of the nervous system, the corporeal forces or external stimuli come within reach of the psychic forces and are assimilated by them, that is, are converted into their kind. This at once explains the sensorial function of the mind, and suggests at the same time the idea that there must be some kind of affiliation between psychic and corporeal forces with- out wilich assimilation would be impossible. Of what it con- THE RAPIDITY OF SENSORIAL ACTION. 197 sists we do not know ; but to deny that it may, even must exist, would be pretending an exactness of knowledge that, so far as the discussion has gone, we do not possess. On the other hand, the psychic forces must not be conceived as undefined, shadowy, nondescript; as ideal existences which float about somewhere and yet nowhere, and can never be laid hold of. They are indeed well-defined, concrete forces, which every soul brings into this world, and in their own way are as distinct and specific as the organs of which the body is com- posed. They do not develop themselves as products of bodily organization, but they are given entities ; they are born with the body, and they are invariably the same in all human beings. As the body consists of its various organs, tissues, vessels, etc., so this system of psychic forces consists of what we may well call primitive or sensory forces of the mind, the sum and substance of the soul, so far as we can judge of the soul from its manifestations by subjective as well as objective ob- servations. 81. The Rapidity of Sensorial Action. Notwithstanding the great similarity between some of the phenomena produced by the application of electricity and those attending the physiological action of nerves, the idea that the nerve-cells are the generators of an electric current has long been abandoned. The experiments of Prevost, Dumas, Mat- teuci, Longet and others, failed to detect the slightest evidence of an electric current with the most delicate galvanometer that could be constructed, so that what physiologists call nerve- force must be admitted to be a force sui generis. But a method of experimenting widely different has corroborated this nega- tive result. Helmholtz and others instituted numerous ex- periments to show the velocity with which sensations are per- ceived, or will-efforts executed, and even to calculate the time which elapses between a sensation and its consequent will- effort. The result of these investigations, carried on by very ingenious methods and instruments, is about this : The velocity varies in different individuals, and under varying 198 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. external conditions ; that it lies between 24 and 94 metres in a second ; that in most cases, however, it amounts to about 30 metres in a second, while electricity, according to Wheatstone, travels 464 millions of metres, light 313 millions of metres, and sound 332 metres (according to Wertheim) in a second. (Preyer, Ueber Empfindungen, Sammlung wissenschaftlicher Vor- tra'ge, edited by Virchow and Holtzendorff, p. 16. Compare also Austin's Nervous System; p. 98 et seq.) This proves by another way the non-identity of nerve-force with electricity, and also the correctness of Henle's view (80) that the con- duction of the adequate stimuli through the sensory nerves cannot be a propagation of the vibrations of light and sound, etc.. itself; that, on the contrary, the primitive forces have a rapidity exclusively their own, with which they seize and assimilate external stimuli, and produce all further mental developments dependent on them. These various experiments proceed a step further, and show that this velocity even differs in the different senses. It appears that a tactual stimulus to the forehead is more quickly perceived than a luminous stimulus by the eye, and this in turn more quickly than a sound, (v. Wittich, Sammlung wissenschaftlicher Vortrage, ed- ited by Virchow and v. Holtzendorff, p. 28.) Professor Donders, on the contrary, shows that the time occupied in the trans- mission of a sensation through the eye to the brain, the forma- tion of a judgment, and the transmission of a volition from the brain to the hand is .15 of a second ; but when the ear is the receiving organ, the time required is only .09 of a second. (Boston Journal of Chemistry, Jan. 1874, p. 84.) However this may be, there alw T ays will be found differences in the rapidity of sensorial action in different individuals, and we have already considered this subject in 14, where, upon a purely psycho- logical basis, we arrived at nearly the same results. 82. The Acuteness or Sensitiveness of the Primitive Forces. In respect to acuteness of the primitive forces there exist, also, differences in different persons. The experiments made to THE RAPIDITY OP SENSORIAL ACTION. 199 elucidate how minute a stimulus will perceptibly affect the sensory nerves, do not cover the whole ground. What has been ascertained is this : If a certain weight is laid upon the hand, an additional weight is not perceived unless it amounts to at least the one-thirtieth part of the original weight. For instance, if the original object weigh twenty-nine ounces, it requires the addition of a full ounce before any difference is noticed by the hand of the blindfolded experimenter ; if the original weight is twenty-nine grains, one grain more will be perceived as an addition. This led to the discovery of the law (by E. H. Weber) that no matter what the original weight might be, an increment to be perceived is in an invariable proportion — about the thirtieth part of the original weight. This, however, throws no light upon the ulterior point, how small a weight can be perceived. In regard to temperature, it has been ascertained that, in order to be perceptible, a variation, even under the most favorable conditions, must measure from one-sixth to one-tenth of a degree, Reaumur. A difference of temperature less than one- tenth of a degree is not perceptible. A difference in the degree of light is perceived if it varies by a hundredth part of its original intensity. Eyes of unusual sensitiveness perceive a change of the yj ¥ d, and even the x^th, part in the intensity of the original stimulus. In short, the sensitiveness varies in different persons. The same is true of hearing. A fine ear distinguishes two notes which in regard to their vibrations lie as near as 1200 and 1201 — a fineness of difference entirely imperceptible to a duller ear. (Compare W. Preyer, Sammlung wissenschaftlicher Vortrdge, edited by Virchow and v. Holtzendorff, p. 28 et seq.) These attempts to reduce to numbers the degrees of acuteness possessed by the sensorial faculties, though imperfect, approximate the truth nearly enough to be received by us. They confirm what psychological observations have long before shown to be a positive fact, that the quality of acuteness differs in degree, not only in different persons, but also in the different primary faculties of the same person. (5.) 200 physiological psychology. 83. The Retentive Power of the Sensorial Forces. The following passages we find in Henry Maudsley's Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, pp. 15-16: "Everything which has existed with any completeness in consciousness is preserved, after its disappearance therefrom, in the mind or brain, and may reappear in consciousness at some future time. That which persists or is retained, has been differently described as a residuum, or relic, or trace, or vestige; or, again, as potential, or latent, or dormant idea; and it is on the existence of such residua that memory depends." " Consciousness is not able to give any account of the manner in which these various residua are perpetuated, and how they exist latent in the mind ; but a fever, a poison in the blood, or a dream, may at any moment recall ideas, feelings and activities which seemed forever vanished. The lunatic sometimes reverts, in his ravings, to scenes and events, of which, when in his sound senses, he has no memory ; the fever-stricken patient may pour out passages in a language which he understands not, but which he has accidentally heard ; a dream of being at school again brings back with painful vividness the school feelings; and before him who is drowning, every event of his life seems to flash in one moment of strange and vivid consciousness." Page 17: " So far from the mind being always active, it is the fact that at each moment the greater part of the mind is not only unconscious but inactive. Mental power exists in statical equilibrium as well as in manifested energy; and the utmost tension of a particular mental activity may not avail to call forth from their secret repository the dormant energies of latent residua, even when most urgently needed ; no man can call to mind at any moment the thousandth part of his knowl- edge. How utterly helpless is consciousness to give any account of the statical condition of mind! Bat as statical mind is in reality the statical condition of the organic element which ministers to its manifestations, it is plain that if we ever are to know anything of the inactive mind, it is to the progress of physi- ology that we must look for information." In these passages we do not find anything new as regards the THE RETENTIVE POWER OF THE SENSORIAL FORCES. 201 retentive power of the sensorial faculties ; they confirm what psychological observations have long since disclosed, and from a standpoint which assumes that any information about statical mind (vestiges) can be expected only from the further develop- ment of physiology. Without going into the discussion, how far nervous structure participates in the development and execution of mental pro- cesses (that it is a necessary link between the external stimuli and the primitive faculties of the mind has been admitted be- fore, and is proven by the fact that conscious developments do not take place until nervous structure makes its appearance) (71), it will nevertheless be well to refer again to the utter im- possibility of even explaining the transmutation of material processes into psychical phenomena (80). How, therefore, physiology will ever become capable of unravelling inactive mind, is difficult to comprehend. It is asserted " that every phenomenon of mind is the result, as manifested energy, of some change, molecular, chemical or vital, in the nervous ele- ments of the brain. Chemical analysis of the so-called ex- tractives of nerve testifies to definite change or a 'waste,' through functional activity ; for there are found, as products of retrograde metamorphosis, lactic acid, kreatin, uric acid, probably also hypoxanthin, and, respecting the fatty acids, formic and acetic acids. These products are very like those which are found in muscle after functional activity. In the performance of an idea, as in the performance of a movement, there is a retrograde metamorphosis of organic elements. The display of energy is at the cost of the highly organized mat- ter, which undergoes degeneration, or passes from a higher to a lower grade of being ; and the retrograde products are, so far as is at present known, very nearly the same. While the contents of nerves, again, are neutral during rest in the living state, they become acid after death, and after great activity during life. The same is the case also with regard to muscle. Furthermore, the products of the metamorphosis of nerve-elements, after prolonged mental exercise, are recognized by an increase of phosphates in the urine ; while it is only by sup- posing an idea to be accompanied by a correlative change in 14 202 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. the nerve-cells that we can explain the exhaustion following excessive mental work, and the breaking down of the brain in extreme cases. These things being so, in a physiological sense, what is it we designate the mind? Not the material products of cerebral activity, but the marvelous energy which cannot be grasped and handled." (Maudsley, 1, p. 39.) This is an infinitely more advanced conception of mind than the coarse view of Cabanis and Vogt, according to w r hom the brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile. In fact, the quoted passage has been written in refutation of this view. And, while it endeavors to come nearer to a just appreciation of mind, as we view it, it is still only an hypothesis that will scarcely stand before a scrutinizing examination into all the physiological and psychological facts. In the first place it is taken for granted that the nerve-cells are the receptacles and laboratory of sensorial activities. This is by no means physi- ologically proved, and by the latest researches of Max Schultze made even quite problematic (80). Secondly, it asserts that every phenomenon of the mind is the result of some change in the nervous elements of the brain. With the same right we may assert that the correlative changes in the material sub- stratum are the result of mental activity. We quite often see will-power hold in abeyance, not only the special workings of the mind, but also the entire bodily frame. This, however, will always remain a bone of contention, because " correlative changes in the material substratum " depend, as the term im- plies, upon reciprocity, and to determine in each single case w T hich is cause and which effect may not always be possible. We shall, how T ever, refer to this subject when treating of the relation between mind and body. The once cherished conjecture that mental activity is based upon the consumption of phosphorus in the brain, " because phosphates appear in the urine in consequence of a retrograde metamorphosis of nerve-substance," must also be consigned to the "dreams of science" as Virchow says. (Cellular Pathology, 1871, p. 278.) Maudsley at last recognizes the mind to be "not the material products of cerebral activity, but the marvelous energy which cannot be grasped or handled." A marvelous THE RETENTIVE POWER OF THE SENSORIAL FORCES. 203 energy of what? Of the brain. As the working of a steam- engine represents its " manifested energy," so " thought repre- sents the energy of nerve-cell." At first sight this reasoning appears very plausible indeed, to some minds even convincing. Its only fault is, that it confounds condition with cause. The working, that is, the functional manifestations, of an engine is not at all its- manifest energy ; it is the energy of a something altogether different from the engine, namely, the energy of steam, which, however, must find an appropriate mechanism to manifest itself — its energy. The engine is, therefore, not the cause, but only the condition of its so-called " manifested energy or function." The brain or the problematic virtue of the nerve- cells is only the condition of mental phenomena, or its marvel- ous energy, by and through which a something altogether different from the brain, namely the soul, manifests itself as the cause of all this marvelous energy. We have here an ex- ample of the "powerful" and now fashionable "tendency in the human mind to make the reality conformable to the idea, a tendency which has been at the 'bottom' of so many views advanced in physiological psychology to convert marvelous energies into objective entities, and allow them to tyrannize over the understanding." Here applies fully what Goethe says: " Daran erkenn' ich den gelehrten Herrn ! Was ihr nicht tastet, stent euch meilenfern ; Was ihr nicht fasst, das fehlt euch ganz und gar ; Was ihr nicht rechnet, glaubt ihr sei nicht wahr ; Was ihr nicht wiigt, hat fur euch kein Gewicht ; Was ihr nicht miinzt, das, meint ihr, gelte nicht." Faust, Zweiter Theil, erster Act. " By that I know the learned lord you are ! What you don't touch, is lying leagues afar; What you don't grasp, is wholly lost to you; What you don't reckon, think you, can't be true ; What you don't weigh, it has no weight, alas ! What you don't coin, you're sure it will not pass." Bayard Taylor's Translation of Goethe's Faust, Part II, p. 18. But this is not all. The " marvelous energy " does not advance us one step in discriminating the different sensory 204 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. forces in regard to their degree of retentive power, a point very obvious to the observation of the psychologist (6, 7). Where lias physiology found a difference in the nerves or nerve-cells to warrant the acceptation of an equal difference in their energy? In the course of centuries, perhaps, it may. In the meantime, however, we must rest satisfied with what psychology proves — that the primitive forces gradate in their retentive power from the highest to the lowest senses (8), and that in this gradation is founded, not only the clearer knowl- edge we gain from the outer world by means of the higher senses, but also the moral norm which places man at the sum- mit of the mundane creation (58). 84. Conscious Development. In 70 and 71 we have ascribed to the nervous structure a potentiality for conscious development. This proposition is denied by no one. The question is, is nervous structure the cause or the condition of such development ? According to the conclusions we have arrived at in the last chapter, we contend that it is the conditio sine qua non, but not the cause. The humblest animal has its soul as well as has man. But the difference consists in the varied degrees of retentive power or energy with which the sensorial forces of the various classes of living beings are capable of holding fast and being lastingly molded by external stimuli. In glancing over the variously shaded manifestations of intelligence as displayed by the different classes of animals, we find in animals lower than the class of articulates only very faint signs of conscious development. A much greater amount of intelligence is displayed by several tribes of the articulate class. I mention merely the well-known industry and skill of the bees ; the orderly conduct of the ants in their household affairs ; the cunning with which the spider selects a fit place for its hunting-ground, and the clever adaptation of its web to these localities. Compared with them it is doubt- ful whether the lowest vertebrate class, the fishes, can be at- tributed with a greater or even an equal amount of intelli- CONSCIOUS DEVELOPMENT. 205 gence ; for that they can be made to assemble for their meals by the ringing of a bell is, perhaps, no sign of greater intelli- gence than the bee exhibits in learning to know its keeper; or than the ant showed that hastily turned back, on her accus- tomed way to the sugar-bowl, when she found several of her sisters killed, and, meeting others, seemed from the sequel to converse with them, for presently the whole crowd hastily dis- appeared to return no more. Not much greater than that of the fishes appears the intelligence of reptiles. Birds show a decided progress in intelligence, and still more plainly does in- telligence manifest itself in some tribes of the mammalia. Thus conscious development varies greatly in the different classes of the animal kingdom, and not only is this apparent between whole classes of animals, but also between single individuals of the same tribe. Some dogs, for example, are much more docile than others. " This is easily explained," says the physiologist, " by the greater or less amount and perfection of the cerebral structure with which these different animals are severally en- dowed." It is but reasonable to expect that wherever we find a greater amount of intelligence, we should also find more per- fect conditions for the display of this intelligence. But is the varied structure of cerebral development really an adequate explanation of the varied intelligence we find in the different classes of animals and in different individuals of the same species? It seems not ; for there is no trace in all the articu- lates of anything that can be fairly considered homologous either with the cerebrum or with the cerebellum of the verte- brates; and yet who can deny conscious development to spiders, ants, bees, and other insects? Even the amphioxus and the cyclostome fishes in general exist without any trace of cerebrum or cerebellum (71), and yet conscious development, if ever so faint, they surely possess. We have here specimens of animal organization which, in their natural health}' - state, without the mutilating interference of physiologists, prove that conscious development does in reality exist (1), not only without the presence of anything like a brain, but (2)« with the further want even of a proper medulla spinalis. With what right, then, can the brain be considered as the only con- 206 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. dition, much less as the sole cause of conscious development? Here, as elsewhere, preconceived ideas have been allowed " to tyrannize over the understanding." Deeper than the brain, deeper than the medulla spinalis, deeper than the ganglionic cells in either the brain, the medulla spinalis, or any other of the nerve ganglions, lie the inborn psychic forces of all and every living being; and in accordance with their native energy or capability of being more or less lastingly molded by exter- nal stimuli, they develop consciousness in a higher or lower degree. Furthermore, as this energy rises in the ascending scale of animal creation, the conditions necessary for a corres- ponding display of these faculties become more and more elaborate, complex, and perfect; and in this mediatorial quality of nervous structure consists its potentiality for conscious de- velopment, its office as a medium between psychic forces and external stimuli. The faint energy of the psychic forces in retaining and assimilating external stimuli, as manifested by the lowest classes of animal life, requires but a simple structure of nerve-element. As the psychic forces in the ascending scale of animal life attain to greater and greater retentive power, and in consequence to greater complexity of conscious devel- opment, the means for the display of such development must correspondingly increase in complexity. It is, therefore, not because the higher animals have a medulla spinalis and a brain that they are capable of a more perfect development of consciousness, but because they are endowed with more ener- getic forces (which necessitate a more complex means for their activity) than the lower animals. This reversion of received physiological ideas is the necessary consequence of our inves- tigations, which have proved that the brain is not the cause but only the condition of conscious development. We shall, however, further strengthen this view by subsequent investi- gations. t 85. Various Degrees of Clearness in Conscious Development, A mere reference to what has been detailed in 8 will suffice to prove that mental modifications in man differ greatly in DEGREES OF CLEARNESS IN CONSCIOUS DEVELOPMENT. 207 clearness, accordingly as they are products of the higher or of the lower senses. Everybody knows that what he has seen, heard and touched, is retained more lastingly than that which he has smelled, tasted or felt (embracing in the latter term the so-called general feeling and sensations originating in the sympathetic system). There is a marked indisputable grada- tion in the conscious development of these several sensorial forces as to the clearness of their products, from the sense of sight down to the vital senses. All science and all clear, minute differential knowledge owe their origin and growth to the higher senses. We do not even approximately attain this clearness and discrimination by means of the lower senses. Why is this? Does physiology furnish any explanation? It might, indeed, refer to the greater perfection of the organs which minister to the higher senses. But is this not the same preconceived idea which confounds condition and cause? Is it not attributing to the nerve-cell an office which is by no means proved and is more than problematical ? The question recurs : What is the cause of these differences ? The answer, and as we believe, the only answer, must be gathered from the foregoing researches. He who has followed them intelligently must see that the differences of conscious development result from the different degrees of retentive power with which the sensory forces of the mind are severally endowed. By this difference of the sensory forces, in respect to retentive energy, their consequent products or vestiges are stamped with a cor- responding difference. If the forces are of such a nature as to be capable of maintaining the development which has been effected by external stimuli, the product or vestige (which, as we have seen in 6, is the objective development of these primitive forces) will be distinct and lasting ; if, however, the nature of the primitive forces is not capable of such lasting development, the product or vestige produced by the influence of external stimuli will be correspondingly w T eak and evanescent. Now, as according to the law of attraction of like to like (9), the single vestiges by repetition of similar impressions gradually grow to be aggregates, it is plain that the aggregates must share the character of their components. An aggregate of 208 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. definite and lasting vestiges will, therefore, be definite and last- ing, a perfeet and clear mental modification, while an aggregate of ever so many evanescent single vestiges will never attain to any clearness as a conscious development. This assertion agrees entirely with the facts before us. Man attains to clear ideas of the world around him by his higher senses only, and these ideas are again sublimated by the same law of attraction of like to like into still higher ideas (15, 16), and these are combined into new forms of conscious development, as in the acts of judging and reasoning (18, 20), all of which is possible and explicable only on the ground of the greater capability of these forces to be lastingly modified by the corresponding im- pressions of the outer world. In the lower senses this perfec- tion of conscious development lessens more and more, until, in the vital senses, it becomes quite faint, shadowy, indefinite. This is true of the animal kingdom. The higher animals un- doubtedly attain a conscious development analogous to that of of man. Yet, however striking in single instances this develop- ment may appear, it never reaches the depth and fulness of man's conscious growth. We often attribute to animals an intelligence not their due in amount or in kind. We see in- telligence where we least expect it, and enthusiastically con- found the mental glintings of animals with our broader mental light. But we do not intend to deny a capability in animals for developing a consciousness analogous to that of man. In them the same laws prevail as in man. Man has no innate intellect, taking the word in the sense of the old psychologists, as a power to form ideas, judgments, and syllogisms (17, 20, 21), and in the animal nothing of the kind exists. But as man reaches his highest possibilities by the innate energy of his higher senses, the animal may attain to an intelligence which corresponds to the energy of its sensory forces. It appears that this retentive power of the sensory forces in ani- mals is not distributed altogether, as it is in man, from sight down to the lowest senses. In dogs, for instance, and probably in some other animals, the most energetic sense seems to be the sense of smell, w T hile the spider and bee, and probably many DEGREES OF CLEARNESS IN CONSCIOUS DEVELOPMENT. 209 other insects, rely most upon their sense of touch. However this may be, this much is certain, that none of the animals exhibit a conscious development, which, broadly considered, can be compared with that of a normal human being. The difference lies in the inborn energy of the sensory forces, and although this difference is only one of degree, the cumulative effects of its products make it a difference of kind. To say that a dog or any other clever animal, if it only could speak, would show itself as intelligent as many a man, is a con- fused way of reasoning. If the dog could speak, I mean humanly, it would cease to be a dog ; but just because it never attains to anything higher than a dog's language, its mental life is specifically different from that of a human being. It is not language that makes man a man, but it is man, in virtue of his higher mental nature, who makes language ; and so the language of the animal corresponds precisely to the standard of its mental development. These higher developments of consciousness, with all their countless combinations, associations and activities, are believed to be " by all those who have most studied the physiology of the brain, and are best entitled to speak on the matter, the highest display of organic development in the nerve-cells of the gray cortical layers of the hemispheres." (Maudsley, p. 106.) I shall not repeat here the reasons why this belief is entirely fallacious (compare 80 and others), notwithstanding the fact that it is said to be the belief of all those w T ho have most studied physiology. Even admitting the correctness of this view, "the organic processes of mental development which take place in the minute cells of the cortical layers, are so ex- quisitely delicate, that they are certainly, so far as our present means of investigations reach, quite impenetrable to the senses." (Maudsley, 107.) How then can physiology be con- sidered a sufficient guide, much less the only guide to unravel mental life? Against such one-sided views Schopenhauer utters the following words, which, though cutting, should nevertheless be taken to heart : " There are persons who thrust themselves into the foreground as reformers of the world, who have learned nothing on earth but their chemistry, or physics, 210 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. or mineralogy, or zoology, or physiology; and they eke this out by other fragments of knowledge, namely, what has stuck to them from their schoolboy teaching of the catechism ; and if then these two constituents of their learning do not appear to fit exactly, they at once turn out to be scoffers at religion, and next, absurd and shallow materialists. That there has existed a Plato and Aristoteles, a Locke and Kant, they have heard perhaps in school ; but they do not deem such men worthy of closer examination, as they never used crucible, nor retort, nor even stuffed monkeys. . . . These persons we must bluntly call ignorami, w T ho have yet to learn a great deal before they can be allowed to participate in the discussion." — ("Da werfen sich Leute zu Welterleuchtern auf, die ihre Chemie, oder Physik, oder Mineralogie, oder Zoologie, oder Physiologie, sonst aber auf der Welt nichts gelernt haben, bringen an diese ihre einzige anderweitige Kenntniss, namlich was ihnen von den Lehren des Katechismus noch aus den Schuljahren anklebt, und wenn ihnen nun diese beiden Stiicke nicht recht zu einander passen, werden sie sofort Religions- potter und demnachst abgeschmackte, seichte Materialisten. Dass es einen Plato und Aristoteles, einen Locke und Kant, gegeben habe, haben sie vielleicht einmal auf der Schule ge- hort, jedoch diese Leute, da sie weder Tiegel noch Retorte handhabten, noch Affen ausstopften, keiner nahern Bekannt- schaft werth gehalten. . . . Ihnen gehort die unumwundene Belehrung, dass sie Ignoranten sind, die noch vieles zu lernen haben, ehe sie mitreden konnen.") We may ask, too, how is this- physiological view capable of explaining the countless associations of ideas ? " The anatomical connection of a nerve-cell in the cerebral ganglia does, of a necessity, limit the direction and extent of its action upon other cells; for it may be deemed tolerably certain that as the conduction in nerve-fibres demonstrably does not pass from one to another, except by continuity of tissue, so the activity of one cell cannot be communicated to another, except along an anastomosing process." (Maudsley, p. 121). This is true, still the psychomotor cells are not pre- established, they are developed by age, through functional THE EFFERENT NERVES. 211 exercise, as Charcot shows in his lectures on localization of diseases of the brain, p. 30. Is this explanation adequate to our every-day life experience ? Do we not every minute form new combinations of old and new ideas? Have these com- binations, so shifting and complex that no one can imagine the strangeness of their next grouping, been preformed by certain anastomosing processes between certain nerve-cells? Does not such a materialistic and inadequate explanation prove again the strong tendency of the human mind to make the reality conformable to preconceived ideas? As physiological anatomy is not capable of explaining even the lowest forms of con- scious development, we need not wonder that its attempts to explain the higher forms must necessarily prove abortive. 86. The Efferent Nerves. These receive their name from the physiological observation that they convey stimuli from the different centres to the periphery. They are divided into such as terminate in striated muscles, furnishing a mediuin'for the action of the voluntary muscles, into such as terminate in non-striated muscles, fur- nishing a medium for the action of the involuntary muscular tissue, and into such as terminate in the different glands, fur- nishing a medium for glandular action. Those that furnish a medium for the action of the voluntary muscles " terminate underneath the sarcolemma by a coales- cence of the sheath of Schwann with the sarcolemma. The sheath of Schwann accompanies the axis cylinder to this point. The end of the axis-cylinder is always an expansion of a consid- erably enlarged surface, which in all cases is formed by a flat ramification. This terminal plate is sometimes similar to a membranous, at other times to a fibrinous, expansion. In most cases the plate rests upon a basis of nuclei and fine nucle- ated protoplasma ; in other cases these nervous plates exhibit so-called terminal nervous buds. In no case does the terminal end of the nerve penetrate into the interior of the contractile cylinders, and never does it embrace their entire periphery. Short muscular fibres are apt to receive but one nerve-fibril, 212 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. while long ones receive several." (W. Kuhn, in Strieker, p. 165, 1872.) The nerves that furnish a medium for the action of the in- voluntary muscular tissue, contain dark-bordered and pale fibres in varying numbers; they lie outside of the muscular structure (in its connective tissue) and form a plexus. From here finer fibres start in various directions to form a still finer network. At the points where they cross (Knotenpunkte) there are found corpuscles with distinct nuclei, which resemble nerve- cells. This fine network lies immediately upon or below the membranes of the muscles and surrounds the muscular fibres upon all sides. Although the finest nerve-fibrils appear to join the nucleoli of the corpuscles, these are still not to be consid- ered as the actual terminations, because in numerous cases other nerve-fibrils issue from these nucleoli to pass in opposite directions through the substance of the corpuscles toward and into the intra-muscular network. The nucleoli are, therefore, not the ends but only the crossing-places of the finest nerve- fibrils forming this network. , (J. Arnold, in Strieker, 1872, p. 143.) The nerves that furnish a medium for glandular action, according to Pfliiger, pierce the membrana propria and ramify in finer and finer fibrils around the epithelial cylinders, enter directly into a cylinder cell, or disperse themselves as a sub- epithelial network and dive into the glandular cells. Accord- ing to later researches, this same connection exists between the nerves and the liver-cells. (Pfliiger, in Strieker, 1872, p. 313.) Since even the most recen advances in microscopic physi- ology have not dispelled all doubts in regard to the termina- tion of these nerves (which Virchow collectively calls " work- ing nerves," Cellular Pathology, p. 294), how can we expect an assured and scientific precision in deciding upon their central beginnings? The chief conclusion we are warranted in drawing is that the nerves which are the media for volun- tary action arise from the brain and the anterior roots of the spine; while those which are the media of involuntary and glandular action take their origin in the sympathetic nervous system. The cells with which the motor nerves stand in con- THE WHITE SUBSTANCE. 213 nection within the spinal column, are somewhat longer than those with which the sensitive nerves are connected. In other central parts, however, a similar distinction in size has not been found. Neither does the calibre of the different nerve- fibres furnish a criterion as to their several functions. 87. The White Substance. The white substance of the brain and spinal marrow is principally composed of fibres or tubes, hence it is also called the fibrous substance. These fibres are continuations of the millions of nerve-fibres which arise in the gray substance. It has been a general usage to trace the nerves from their peripheral terminations upward toward their centres in the different groups of gray matter. As, however, it is more con- formable with our psychological view, we shall reverse this order and adopt the plan of Theodor Meynert, as developed in his treatise " Vom Gehirne der Saugethiere" in Strieker, 1872, p. 694 et seq.j in explaining cursorily the relation of the white substance to the different groups of gray matter. Considering, as we do, the gray matter as the inmost and highest vital organization, by means of which the mind stands in communion with the external world, we shall take it as the point from which the white substance issues. " The sensory nerves can then be likened to its feelers and the motory nerves to its fangs." These multitudinous nerves, emerging from the entire surface of the cortical gray, converge and constitute the corona radiata, in their downward course directed toward the central or cavity gray of the brain. Their further emergence (still converging) takes them through the foramen magnum, and thus to the central gray of the spinal marrow, from whence they again issue in the form of innum- erable peripheral nerves, diverging to their respective organs. This sweeping delineation, however, needs more special ex- planation. The white substance, after emerging from the cor- tical gray and forming the corona radiata, does not pass unin- terruptedly to the central or cavity gray of the brain and spinal marrow. The conglomerations of gray matter in the 214 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. cerebral ganglia are its first destination, namely, the corpora quadrigemina, thalami optici and corpora striata. With this first link in the chain of the white substance projecting from the cortical gray, we must count also the corpus callosum, which, by its transverse fibres, connects the two hemispheres of the brain, and forms their great transverse commissure, and the longitudinal commissural fibres, which connect together dis- tant parts of the same hemisphere. In the intervening gan- glionic masses, or in the second group of gray matter, a second link in the projection of the white substance is developed, forming the crura cerebri, or the peduncles of the cerebrum, which proceed to the pons and medulla oblongata to constitute the peripheral white substance of the spinal cord, which finds its termination in the central or cavity gray of the medulla spinalis. The third link of this projection of white substance develops itself in the third group of gray matter. This group, the central or cavity gray, begins in the region of the third ven- tricle, surrounds the acquseductus, extends to the sinus rhom- boid eus, and in the lower half of the oblongata, and in the medulla spinalis, encircles the central canal. The fibrous sub- stance here projected constitutes all the nerves from the third pair of cranial nerves arising in the gray of the aquseductus Silvii down to the last and lowest nerves of the spinal mar- row. Thus it appears that the innumerable multitude of nerve-fibres in the cortical gray converge at first into several masses, which for the most part radiate respectively to the corpus striatum and the nucleus lenticularis, to the thalami optici and the corpora quadrigemina. In the second link these several masses become reduced to only two, the peduncle and tegumentum of the crus cerebri, which proceed respectively to the anterior and posterior portion of the pons and medulla oblongata to merge at last in the spinal cord, and find their termination in the central or cavity gray of the spinal cord. From here and from the cavity gray of the brain, as has been stated above, the last link of the projecting fibrous matter issues, diverging in the form of the peripheral nerves to be distributed over the entire body. For further particulars, especially in regard to the relation of the cerebellum to the GRAY AND WHITE SUBSTANCE OF THE SPINAL AXIS. 215 cerebrum and the second link of projection, I -must refer to the original and elaborate treatise of Th. Meynert cited above. 88. Connection between the Gray and White Sub- stance of the Spinal Axis. Although the spinal axis has been the subject of very numerous and elaborate anatomical as well as physiological investigations, the exact relation between its two constituents is not determined beyond all doubt. We shall continue to reverse the customary way of tracing the course of the nerve- fibres, and begin with the second link of projected fibrous substance which at last represents itself as the white substance of the spinal cord. The proportion of the white substance to the gray matter within is greatest in the cervical region, from whence it gradually decreases in quantity throughout the whole extent of the cord, until at the intumescentia lumbaris, and still more at the conus terminalis, it is reduced to a very thin coating of the irregularly shaped gray matter beneath. What has become of this multitude of fibres? Where did they gradually lose themselves ? The idea, formerly entertained, that the fibres of the nerve- roots ascend in the column which they enter, and that by this means the white substance gains by degrees in quantity from below upward, is not tenable ; for it is anatomically proved that, if not all, at least the great majority, of the root-fibres pass directly, either horizontally or obliquely, through the white substance into the gray matter without taking any part in the formation of the white columns. This is especially plain and easily demonstrated in the case of the anterior roots and an- terior columns. However, we ought not to say the root-fibres pass into the gray matter, as, in fact, they originate there and pass out of it through the white substance. For in holding this standpoint, that is, in considering the cavity gray as the third great nerve-centre which receives the second link of pro- jected white substance to form and mold it for final distribu- tion all over the body, we shall gain a much more lucid insight into the extremely complicated course which the nerve-fibres present within the gray and white substance of the spinal cord. 216 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. In fairness, however, to the eminent physiologists whom I have quoted, it is but right to say that the following view as to the connection between the gray and white substance of the spine, is wholly my own, though it seems a logical result of their investigations. The white substance of the spinal cord, which anatomically has been divided into the two anterior, the two lateral, and the two posterior columns, enters the cavity gray in the following manner, namely : The different columns resolve gradually into primitive fibres, which they give off continually all the w T ay down to corresponding portions of the cavity gray within. Thus the anterior columns send off fibres to form the anterior white commissure, which is found throughout the extent of the spinal cord lying directly in front of the anterior gray commissure. Its formation is affected in this way : The fibres which emerge from the right anterior column curve toward the left, and taking a horizontal course, enter the anterior cornua of the left side, while the fibres which emerge from the left column curve in the opposite direction, and pass in the same manner toward the right anterior horn of gray matter. This causes a decussation of the fibres of the two anterior columns immediately in front of the gray commissure j which is known under the name of the anterior white com- missure. The correctness of this view is strengthened by the anatomical fact that the width of this commissure increases or decreases with the volume of the corresponding gray substance. The anterior portion of the lateral columns gives off fibres to the anterior cornua of the same side, while the fibres of the posterior portion of the lateral columns bend toward the cor- responding posterior cornua. A similar relation exists between the fibres of the posterior columns and the correspond- ing posterior cornua of the cavity gray, but this relation is not nearly so simple nor so easily demonstrable. The question, then, " What becomes of the multitude of ver- tical fibres which constitute the spinal cord? " is thus answered : Its compact mass gradually resolves into primitive fibres, and because these continually pass off to corresponding parts of the spinal gray, the gradual diminution of the white substance GRAY AND WHITE SUBSTANCE OF THE SPINAL AXIS. 217 in quantity, as it passes from above downwards is the natural result. Our next inquiry relates to the course of fibres within the gray columns. These latter are invested by groups of numerous nerve-cells, larger ones in the anterior, smaller ones in the posterior cornua. These cells may, as has been mentioned before, be compared with stations in which numerous nerve- fibrils converge from different regions, and from which one passes in a horizontal direction to the anterior roots. This view is strengthened also by the anatomical fact that in the cervical and lumbar enlargement of the spinal cord, where we find an increase of root-fibres, there exists also a decidedly larger number of nerve-cells. Less clearly defined is the relation between the cells of the posterior cornua and the posterior roots. It is, however, not the place here to enter into a discussion regarding the various views of the different authors upon this subject. This much is certain, that some of the fibres pass horizontally backward through the substantia gelatinosa into the posterior columns and the posterior portion of the lateral columns, where they, as primitive fibres, enter into a corresponding posterior root - that others pass in various directions through the posterior cornua, enter the posterior columns, in which they run for a shorter or longer distance upward in order to join a root situate higher up, and that still others, pursuing originally the same course, after entering the posterior columns, turn downward to join a lower root. Beside these fibres there are others which likewise pursue a horizontal or nearly horizontal course. In this category belong the anterior and posterior gray commissures, which form links of connection, the first between the anterior (right and left) cornua, and the second between the posterior (right and left) cornua. Other fibres pass directly from the anterior through the posterior cornua and columns to corresponding posterior roots. There are also many fibres which pursue either an upward or downward course in the gray columns to form connective links between different portions of the spinal marrow (Henle, Nervenlehre, pp. 63-73). The several starting points, however, of these 15 218 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. various nerve-fibres have thus far not been ascertained. Ac- cording to Gerlach it appears that the first and finest nerve- fibrils form an exceedingly fine nervous plexus, from which some of them converge to corresponding cells, to be conveyed and distributed as axis-cylinders in various directions, while the destination of others is entirely unknown. 89. Function of the Spinal Cord. — Reflex Action. A series of interesting phenomena has been termed by Pro- chaska, a Vienna physician, over a century ago (1778), reflex action. By this is understood that an impression made upon the general sensory nerves is conveyed to the spinal gray, where it is transformed into an excitant of corresponding motory nerves, by which again certain voluntary muscles are set into motion. In short, by means of the spinal gray a sen- sation is converted into a movement. Reflex action, then, physiologically speaking, requires afferent nerves, gray central substance, efferent nerves, and muscular tissue. The afferent nerves receive the external stimulus, the gray substance trans- forms and reflects it, and the efferent nerves carry it to the muscular tissue, which contracts and thus causes motion. Reflex action differs from voluntary action in that the ex- ternal excitation is immediately converted into muscular motion, while voluntary action originates from a central or will stimulus. But " reflex phenomena are by no means confined to the action of the spinal cord. The movements of the iris are reflex, and yet they take place in many instances without the intervention of the cord. The movements of respiration are reflex, and these are presided over by the medulla oblongata. Movements of the intestines and the involuntary muscles generally are reflex, and they involve the action of the sympathetic system of nerves. Impressions made upon the nerves of special sense, as those of smell, sight, hearing, etc., give rise to certain trains of thought. These involve the action of the brain ; still they are reflex. In this last example of reflex action it is sometimes difficult to con- nect the operations of the mind with external impressions as FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 219 an exciting cause ; but it is evident, from a little reflection, that this is often the case. This fact is illustrated by opera- tions of the brain which take place, as it were, without con- sciousness, as in dreams. It has been clearly shown that a particular direction may be given to the thoughts during sleep by impressions made upon the sense of hearing. A person sleeping may be made to dream of certain things, as a consequence of hearing peculiar noises. Examples of this kind of mental reflex action are sufficiently numerous and well authenticated. (Compare Hammond, Sleep and its Derangements, Philadelphia, 1869, p. 127 et seq.). From the above considerations it is evident that the term reflex may be properly used in connection with many phenomena involving the action of the sympathetic system, and of the brain ; but it is generally understood as applying especially to involuntary movements, occurring without consciousness, as the result of impressions made upon the afferent nerves, and involving the independent action of the spinal cord. (Austin Flint's Nervous System, 1872, p. 299.) This explanation of reflex action implies that external im- pressions cause sensations which are unconscious. But are unconscious sensations not a contradictio in adjectof If we re- member what has been stated to be the difference between sensation and perception, and also what has been said in regard to the development of consciousness in 9 and 10, we shall find no difficulty in comprehending this term. Sensations are, in the sense of the new psychology, elemen- tary modifications (a development of single primitive forces by corresponding single external stimuli) in which the quality of consciousness yet exists in an embryonic form. Not until many similar acts have united into one homogeneous aggregate does the consequent mental modification rise into consciousness ; and in the lower senses, from want of retentive power, consciousness does not grow very marked and clear even by the repetition of similar impressions (16). An impression of external elements, if it does not excite similar vestiges previously obtained, which in virtue of their multitude and combination possess the quality of consciousness, may, 220 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. therefore, properly be said to cause an unconscious sensation, that is, an elementary action of single external elements upon corresponding single primitive forces, which has not yet ripened into consciousness. Even Virchow, from his materi- alistic standpoint, recognizes unconscious sensations. In his lecture on the spinal marrow (Sammlung Wissenschaft- licher Vortrdge, edited by Virchow and Holtzendorff, V. Serie, Heft 120, p. 25) he says : " The leg of a paralytic which jerks when stung, without feeling the sting or being conscious of it, would undoubtedly remain perfectly quiet if there were no sensible nerves which carried the message of the sting to the spinal marrow, and if the spinal marrow did not pay attention to this message. The spinal marrow, then, acts in this case in place of the brain of a man with unbroken connection in his nervous system ; what in another case, perhaps, might have been produced by an act of the will, takes place here by virtue of the innate power of the spinal marrow. Shall this be called sensation? This term of course can easily be mis- understood, as we are accustomed to consider each sensation as a conscious act, and it needs first some explanation, even a certain mental training, in order to learn that there exist also perceptions which lie outside of the range of consciousness, and which, nevertheless, appear in all other respects like sen- sations. As the same movements are conveyed by sensible nerves and are distinguished from other conscious sensations by the fact that they are prevented from reaching the brain by mechanical obstacles and becoming conscious, it is, indeed, difficult to find another expression for them. Nay, it is even a necessity to preserve this expression, as there are also reflex phenomena in which the brain participates, and in which, therefore, really conscious sensations take place, while the movements resulting therefrom are forced and involuntary. A person who looks into a very bright light and shuts his eyes in consequence, makes reflex movements ; for with a normal sensitiveness of his eyes he is scarcely capable of preventing these movements of the eyelids, and yet it is a conscious sensa- tion upon which this forced and involuntary motion of his eyelids follows." We may, then, properly assume that even FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 221 reflex actions in their simplest forms take place on the basis of psychic forces. The want of consciousness in these acts is attributable either to the low degree of retentive power pos- sessed by the respective primitive forces, or to the elementary nature of these acts, or, lastly, to the fact that the similar ves- tiges, previously obtained, are not excited into consciousness by the new impression (as, for instance, in cases of mechanical obstacles, or in cases where psychic causes intervene). We shall speak of this later. "We shall see this view reinforced by evidence explicit and telling, when we consider the more com- plex forms of reflex action. They are, as Virchow remarks, often so plainly marked as conformable to a purpose, that they appear to be acts of design. To this also belong in a certain respect all that has been collectively designated by the word instinct. We have also remarkable experiments of Pfliiger upon this point. " These experiments have been repeatedly confirmed, and there can be no doubt with regard to their accuracy. Pfliiger carefully removed from a frog the entire encephalon, leaving only the spinal cord. He then touched the surface of the thigh over the inner condyle with acetic acid, to the irrita- tion of which frogs are peculiarly sensitive. The animal thereupon rubbed the irritated surface with the foot of the same side, apparently appreciating the locality of the irritation, and endeavoring by a voluntary effort to remove it. The foot of this side was then amputated, and the irritation was re- newed in the same place. The animal made an ineffectual effort to reach the spot with the amputated member, and fail- ing in this after some general movements of the limbs, rubbed the spot with the foot of the opposite side." (Austin Flint's Nervous System, p. 305; Pfliiger, Die Sensorischen Funktionen des Ruckenmarkes der Wirbelihiere, Berlin, 1853, p. 124 et seq.) Considering these facts in an unprejudiced manner, it is cer- tainly a fruitless attempt to explain them mechanically, or to evade explanation altogether by simply calling them automatic. These experiments, repeatedly confirmed, prove clearly that an external stimulus is capable of causing not only simple reflex movements, but a whole train of actions conformable to 222 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. a purpose, carried on designedly and persistently to its final realization. By the weight of these considerations Pfliiger found himself drawn to the conclusion that the spinal cord is endowed with a special consciousness of its own (Buckenmarksseele). This view, of course, found much opposition among those who cling to the hope that all mental phenomena will one day be ex- plained upon a purely materialistic basis. Although this conjecture is open to other objections than those urged w r ith this view, we must consider it as a very remarkable and sen- sible suggestion, especially since it originated in the soil of experimental physiology. Pfliiger goes on to strengthen his views by a series of experiments made upon persons while asleep, all of which tended to confirm more or less his previous observation made upon frogs. But there are also morbid states of the system which testify to the same effect. As such may be mentioned some forms of somnambulism. A case to the point is related by Hammond in his monograph, Sleep and its Derangements, p. 205, Philadelphia, 1869, which occurred under his own observation. A young lady, who had lost her mother, became affected with symptoms resembling those met with in chorea. These were succeeded by attempts to get out of bed during her sleep, and to walk about the house. In this state Hammond had the opportunity of examining into her condition. She came out of her sleeping apartment partly dressed, went slowly down-stairs to the parlor without noticing anybody around her; took a match which she had brought with her from her own room, rubbed it several times on the under side of the mantel-piece until it caught fire, turned on the gas and lit it. She then threw herself into an arm-chair and looked fixedly at a portrait of her mother which hung over the mantel-piece. A large book, held between her eyes and the picture, did not stop her from gazing in the same direction ; neither did sev- eral motions with the hand, as if about to strike her in the face, make her wink. " I was entirely satisfied that she did not see, at least with her eyes." Upon the application of pun- gent vapors to her nose, she gave no evidence of feeling any FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 223 irritation. Sour and bitter substances inserted into her mouth had no other effect. Scratching the back of her hand with a pin, pulling her hair, and pinching her face, appeared to excite no sensation. On tickling the soles of her feet, how- ever, she at once drew them away, but no laughter was pro- duced. "The spinal cord was therefore awake." She was finally roused from her sleep by shaking her head, when she burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing, but had no recollection of anything that had passed, or of having had a dream of any kind. This interesting case brings before us an instance in which it plainly appears that mental modifications (here the all-ab- sorbing longing for a beloved mother), although seemingly unconscious, were, nevertheless, capable of producing a whole train of actions as correctly as if their execution had taken place under the full light and guidance of consciousness. These same phenomena we may witness going on under perfect normal conditions, if we observe the actions of a new- born child. " The new-born child," says Virchow in his lecture cited above, " is a beautiful specimen of an almost purely spinal being. It does not show the least sign from which we could infer that its volitions or actions are conscious. All its actions bear the spinal character, and so far they may be called essentially instinctive. Let us look upon such a child when it is hungry. It begins to be restless, and makes various motions, especially with the head ; it turns the mouth toward the side and moves the lips. ' It seeks the mother's breast.' If the breast is given, it at once takes hold of it, and com- mences to suck and to swallow. When satisfied, it lets it go, stretches itself contentedly and goes to sleep. If, on the con- trary, it does not find the breast, then its motions become live- lier; its face assumes the expression of vexation or anger, and turns red ; it begins to cry. The more it cries the more violent grow its motions, until the whole body becomes involved in them. If we now put a finger into its mouth, it presently com- mences to suck and to be quiet, but soon 'it finds out that it is being deceived,' and cries louder than ever. Can we recognize these actions as truly conscious or made with design ? Surely not ; 224 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. we merely impute to the child what from long experience we have learned to be our own conscious motives. We say: ' the child will,' ' it seeks,' ' it is vexed ; ' but in truth it knows nothing at all of these mental acts. It has yet to learn them all by many sad experiences in the course of time as its ' spirit develops.' But what it completely possesses is the general sense of feeling. The restlessness, the vexation, the contentedness which it shows, manifestly prove that (in the above chosen instance) it not only has a sensation of hunger and of satisfaction, but distin- guishes also the conditions of its body as pleasurable or pain- ful. It possesses, therefore, a faculty or power of estimating its own sensations, by means of which, so to speak, the value of the sensations and of the conditions of the body based thereon, are measured. It has the faculty of perceiving whether a con- dition be beneficial or injurious; it shows pain or delight. Does it really judge? Does it think without knowing it? Does it reflect without willing it ? " In this passage Virchow remarkably intermixes truth, half truth, and wrong conclu- sions. It is true that the new-born child is a notable instance of an almost purely spinal being, and for the simple reason that its higher senses are not at all developed, or so little that a decided influence of the same over the lower is absolutely indiscernible. The lower or vital senses, on the contrary, have at that time a considerable start of the higher. Already during the period of gestation the faculties of the sympathetic system, as well as those of the general sense of feeling, and from the second half of the period of gestation at least, the muscular sense too, have been in continued exercise — that is, they have been continually acted upon by external stimuli, of which numerous vestiges, according to their similarity, have united into various mental aggregates. Although these aggre- gates by themselves never attain to any high degree of con- sciousness, they nevertheless are, in their nature and their activities, entirely like all other mental modifications. They bear, so far as they consist of many similar vestiges, the char- acter of conceptions, if ever so dim, in comparison with the light of higher mental developments. They assume the character of conation in all forms of desire and aversion, and in quite a FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 225 considerable degree, as the external stimuli are not held very tenaciously by this class of primitive forces; and when several of these modifications are simultaneously excited into con- sciousness, they naturally produce that consciousness of their difference which we have called feelings of pleasure or of pain. As these various aggregates, by means of mobile elements, are constantly conjoined into various groups and series, which, in consequence of this union, enjoy a common re-excitationj we need not wonder when we see the child born with " a faculty or power of estimating its own sensations," or see it " wish, seek, or desire, or getting vexed, or acting in various manners to a purpose," because these mental acts do really and truly exist in its lower senses, and are the necessary consequences of mental development anywhere. As, furthermore, these lower senses have their bodily substratum in the central gray of the spinal cord (for the sympathetic system is most intimately in- terwoven with the spinal cord by the rami communicantes), it is plain why the first manifestations of a new-born child are essentially of a spinal character. We may apply this psycho- logical explanation, in its full bearing, to the experiments of Pniiger upon decapitated frogs. As long as the animal lives after such mutilation, its lower senses, the substratum or me- dium of which has not been injured, continue to act in their accustomed ways, not mechanically, not automatically (which term explains nothing), but strictly in accordance with the psychic developments previously obtained. It is not a special soul which animates the spinal cord, but it is the- lower senses which find the centre of their medium or substratum located therein. Virchow evidently feels the weight of Pfluger's experiments, but is nevertheless averse to his conclusions. He says, " Un- doubtedly, the power of estimating its own bodily conditions (Schatzungsvermogen) has its seat in the spinal cord. But shall we conclude that the spinal marrow of the frog has a soul (Gemuth) ? Are the feelings of pleasure and pain, the awaken- ing desires and effects, the actions consequent thereon, to be ascribed to a special soul ? Or, are not the anatomical elements of the spinal cord, the several living parts of the same, fully 22(') PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. sufficient to explain the sensation as well as the estimation of it, and the consequent actions, by the peculiar and mutual action of these living parts upon each other? " Although he cannot prove the assumption which lies embodied in the last proposi- tion, he, nevertheless — from want of an adequate insight into the elementary psychical processes, and actuated by his precon- ceived ideas that all mental phenomena are the result of chemical and molecular changes in the nerve-cells — takes this view, which he expresses in the following sentence : " It is im- possible to accept, beside the organic structure of the spinal cord, still another particular, unanatomic, or, as some prefer to call it, an immaterial agency, which feels, thinks, wills, and acts; 1 ' and further on : "Nothing speaks for such an assumption (of an immaterial ageiicy), which is contradictory to all experi- ence and logic, but our ignorance of the finer construction of the spinal gray, and the difficulty, yet unsolved, to unravel the interior conection of this incredible and at the same time in- finitely complex tissue." As all this is merely a reiteration of the common materialistic belief and a confession of the defec- tiveness of physiology for the explanation of these problems, with a hopeful view that the future might yet be able to solve them, I need not again repeat what has been said in refutation of it, and shall simply refer to the respective chapters of this work. But when he undertakes to strengthen these views by alluding to the fact that the excitability of the spinal organism may be increased or diminished at pleasure by poison, medi- cine, or stimulants, and then asks: "Shall we suppose that these substances act upon the immaterial substance? that strychnine or curare affect the spinal soul or the general sense of feeling?" we have then to reply that this is, as in the case of Maudsley, a mixing-up of condition with cause. These sub- stances indeed act upon the primitive forces of the " general sense of feeling " as well and in the same way as other external stimuli do. When we see that strychnine increases the irrita- bility of the spine, and that curare paralyzes the nerves with- out affecting the irritability of the muscles, it is plain that these substances act as poisons, as overdoses, and attack the bodily substratum in such a degree as to alter and change the VOLITIONS. 227 means or conditions by and under which a normal activity of the primitive forces alone is possible. The " spinal soul," or the " general sense of feeling," is only secondarily affected, so far as its normal activities are interfered with by the abnormal condition of its bodily means to execute them. 90. Volitions. Theodor Meynert, in his highly interesting essay on the brain of mammals (in Strieker, p. 694, 1872), makes the follow- ing remarks : " The first attribute to be ascribed to the nerve- cell is capability of sensation ("Empfindungsfahigkeit"). The results of physiological researches do not yet entitle us to place the process of sensation in one certain section, for instance in the brain only ; for the fact constrains our fair consideration that the amphioxus shows unmistakable signs of conscious animal life, although it is endowed only with spinal central gra} r . But to attribute to any of the nerve-cells any other funda- mental quality, as for instance that of a motor y principle, is entirely inadmissible. Motory quality is possessed only by the muscular tissue, and if any excitation of a nerve-cell, which may be identical with the process of sensation, finds means and ways to be converted into muscular force, then the relation of a central organ to the movements is, sufficiently explained by this arrangement, and it does not matter at all whether the motion follow upon the sensation in timely continuity or dis- continuity, whether the stimulation be carried through the direct diameter of the spine, or find a medium in an incal- culable chain of interruptions along the conducting arches of the cerebrum." Fritsch and Hitzig ( Ueber die elektrische Erregbarkeit des Gross- hirns; Eeichert and Du Bois-Reymond's Archiv., 1870, p. 300), found "that the excitation of distinct and limited localities (centres) of the anterior convex portion of the brain produced movements of certain muscular groups on the opposite side of the body, while the same excitation of portions of the hemi- spheres, situate more posteriorly, produced no such effect. Thus they found the centre for the muscles of the nape of the 228 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. neck situate in the middle of the prefrontal convolution (gyrus praafrontalis), the centre for the extensor and adductor muscles of the anterior extremity at the extremity of the ex- ternal end of the post-frontal convolution ; and, somewhat behind, the centre for the flexor and rotator muscles of the same extremity. The centre for the muscles of the posterior extremity is also situate in the post-frontal convolution, but more behind and toward the median part than the centre for the anterior extremity. The muscles innervated by the facial nerve are controlled by a centre located in the middle portion of the supersylvian convolution. By still more recent experi- ments, Nothnagel found that by a circumscribed chromic acid lesion on the surface of the cortex, which penetrated into its substance about one millimetre deep, in a limited locality, which corresponded exactly to the external end of the post- frontal convolution (Fritsch and Hitzig's centre for the mus- cles of the extremities), the animals lost the muscular sense in the anterior extremity on the opposite side to the cerebral lesion. In the same way Nothnagel produced the loss of the muscular sense in dogs, in which the effect is still more marked than in rabbits. The described phenomena can be called forth only by producing the lesion in the above-named limited locality, but in no other way. In this locality, therefore, must be situate a central station for the passage of the peripheric sensitive impressions which are produced by the different posi- tions of the limbs. From the fact, however, that after a certain time the animals recover the lost muscular sense, Nothnagel concluded that the terminal station, or the real centre for the mus- cular sense, must still exist elsewhere, and that in the above locality there was destroyed only an intermediate station in the tract of the muscular sense. After a while, however, other ways become opened for the passage of the muscular sense." (W. B. Neftel, M.D., Brown-Sequard's Archives, 1873 ; North American Jour- nal, November, 1873, p. 226 et seq.) Thus it seems that even by these experiments, although they prove, contrary to the observations of former investigators, that the cortical substance of the cerebral hemispheres is in close relation to certain muscular groups, the real centres of VOLITIONS. 229 the muscular sense and muscular motion are still not found. Without doubt the reasons for this are, in the first place, that the points or stations from which certain groups of muscles may be acted upon are quite multifarious ; and secondly, that these points are not at all end-points or laboratories in which sensation is converted into motion, but that they serve merely as necessary links for the conduction of certain stimuli to certain muscles. At these stations, indeed, new passengers may be taken in and carried on the common route, as in the case of the application of a weak galvanic current to these localities, which proves nothing more than that electricity finds a conducting medium from one particular point to an- other particular point (which, in consequence thereof, con- tracts), or that these two particular points stand in a more or less direct connection. When, on the other hand, a lesion of these parts interferes with the normal action of the muscu- lar sense, it shows that afferent and efferent nerves terminate in close proximity ; but how and where has not been discov- ered. But even if we take the statement of Gerlach in regard to the spinal cord as a positive fact, namely, that the ultimate termination of the nerves results in an exceedingly fine plexus, it would merely explain, in a certain manner, the connection between different afferent and efferent nerves, but would not bring us one iota nearer to an understanding of the organs in which sensation and volition originate. As these finest nerve- fibrils have to be considered as the bodily conducting means for the external as well as the internal stimuli, we would still have to look for something beyond them, in which sensation and motory stimulus could take their origin. These experiments prove nothing, therefore, regarding the real seat, or rather the real prima causa of sensation as well as volition. They merely show that certain connections exist between certain central and peripheral points, and that is all. So far experiment has reached negative results only. The ground has been cleared, but no harvest reaped; and the recurring question finds no answer: Are there really any separate organs for the origination of sensation and volition within the nervous centres ? The nerve-cells which formerly 230 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. were considered as such, have lost this prestige by the more recent investigations of Deiters and Schultze. If we, there- fore, find nerve-cells connected with motory or efferent nerves, we can attribute to them a special motory principle just as little as we can consider the nerve-cells, on the other hand, as the receptacles and laboratories of sensorial perceptions. Thus, even from an anatomical and physiological point of view, we are driven to the acknowledgment of higher psychic forces as the real prima causa of sensation and volition. What Maudsley has cleverly put together and called the motorium commune is, in fact, nothing more nor less than the vestiges and consequent mental modifications which have been acquired by means of the muscular sense in combination chiefly with the sense of touch. He speaks frequently of " a region of mental activity," of "motor intuition organized in the proper nervous centres," of " the region of motor intui- tions," of " the region of actuation," but he very wisely abstains from pointing positively to where these regions may be found. "There can be no doubt," says he, " that such a region of mental activity exists, and that in it are contained, pre- determined and co-ordinated, the faculties of different groups and series of movements" (p. 169). This broad assertion would sound more correct (physiologically), if he had said, such regions, etc. ; but whether he use the term region or regions, he has advanced not a whit in the psychology ; he has but indi- cated a terra incognita. It appears as if Maudsley made him- self guilty of packing certain concrete phenomena into one abstract "region of mental activity," etc., a fault no less in degree than that of the old-school psychologists, whom he justly charges with this illogical proceeding when they main- tain a separate faculty of will, etc. Neither physiologically nor anatomically is Maudsley's motorium commune tenable. Psychologically it resolves it- self into the conative sphere of the mind, of which we have spoken. All primitive forces possess, as living psychic forces, a conative quality, that is, a quality ever tending toward action, the sensory nerves serving as " feelers," and the motory as " fangs." In other words, the primitive forces are con- VOLITIONS. 231 stantly striving toward and endeavoring to receive external stimuli, and propagate their excitation in all directions. Thus it happens that in the lower and especially in the vital senses, which do not possess retentive power in a degree sufficient for the development of clear consciousness, external stimuli pass in certain channels to corresponding muscular tissue and excite the muscle into involuntary motion, and in this way all the movements which are essential for the sustenance of life, the functioned vitales, go on without knowledge or will. It is an immediate transformation of external stimuli into mo- tion, the transformation being effected through channels preformed for this purpose. Herein consist the lowest forms of reflex action. Those on a higher plane, where reflex actions take place in senses of greater retentive power, appear much more complex, and assume the character of conformability to a certain purpose, or as being done designedly. This is of necessity, for in their inmost nature they correspond entirely to those mental forms we comprise under the name of voli- tions and voluntary actions. A volition is by no means a simple process. It is a stage of development the child reaches only at the cost of considerable time. Not until single desires have been formed by many and repeated (especially pleas- urable) excitations (26), not until single conative efforts have through many and repeated attempts been conjoined to par- ticular movements of single groups of muscles as the means for the realization of the desire (42), do volitions and voluntary actions take place in the child. Now, as an act of desiring is at the same time an act of conceiving (28), it is plain that consciousness appertains also to volitions. We see, therefore, that in the child the development of volitions goes hand in hand with the development of consciousness. More than once it has been stated that consciousness varies in the degree the several primitive forces are endowed differently with retentive power. From this it follows that volitions of the higher senses must be characterized by a greater degree of consciousness than is attained by those that are measurably lower ; that, therefore, all conative modifications of the latter, so long as the higher senses remain undeveloped, must lack more or less 232 PHYSIGLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. this quality. We need not wonder, then, that the new-born child appears at first as a purely spinal being, or in other words, that its first actions, or rather movements, appear to be without consciousness. Its higher senses, those primitive forces which are endowed with sufficient retentive power for clear consciousness, have not been developed. But this lack of consciousness is only a lack in degree. Even the lowest or vital senses are capable of developing a certain amount of consciousness. This is an inherent quality of all psychic forces. Let the amount of consciousness be ever so faint, it nevertheless is consciousness, just as gold remains gold if it can be detected only by the microscope. The voli- tions of the lowest senses differ, therefore, from those of the higher in the degree of consciousness, but do not differ in kind. If we bear in mind that the degree of consciousness depends also upon the number of like vestiges and their excitation, we can easily understand why the so-called reflex actions and what has been termed automatic actions (a term which, indeed, ex- plains nothing) may be classed with propriety in the conative sphere of the mind. All these movements and actions are going on in strict accordance with the law of diffusion of mo- bile elements. In the lowest reflex actions external stimuli are at once carried in definite channels to certain groups of muscles which they excite into motion, while higher reflex actions and conscious volitions, properly so called, originate in mobile elements which may have to traverse " an incalculable chain of interruptions along the conducting arches of the cere- brum " before they reach their destination. A large amount of mobile elements will, therefore, not only cause movements of a more violent character, but also, on a larger scale, the abundant elements spreading in all directions to different sets of muscles. This is proved not only by physiological experi- ments (which show that strong and continued external stimuli notably induce more violent and extended movements), but also by the psychological fact that strong mental emotions are no less capable of exciting the whole bodily frame, even to con- vulsions. It is everywhere the same psychical process, the diffusion of mobile elements. Shall we, then, look longer THE FEELINGS. 233 for particular places or cells in the brain, spine, or ganglia, where volitions originate (using the word in its widest sense)? Anatomy and physiology have not been able to demonstrate them, and psychology does not need them, for we know that any act of desiring is more or less also an act of conceiving. According to the law of attraction of like to like, the single conative acts unite and form single volitions, which again, considered as a whole, constitute " the will." It is with pleas- ure that I can here refer to Maudsley's advanced views in regard to this subject. In those views, what is still left doubtful and obscure could easily be cleared up by a study of Beneke's psychological works. 91. The Feelings. The same praise cannot be bestowed upon what Maudsley treats under the title of " the emotions" The great confusion which prevails in the old psychology as regards these mental modifications has not improved under the influence of physio- logical considerations. Here, as there, the same indistinctness between emotion and passion, feelings and desires is obvious. Although, on page 142 in Maudsley's work, a very proper way as to how one might arrive at an adequate account of the emo- tions is described, this advice has not been followed out. The sum and substance of Maudsley's physiological investi- gations culminate in this : " The recognition of this specializa- tion and complexity in the function compels us to assume a corresponding development in the delicate organization of the nervous structure, although, by reason of the imperfection of our means of investigation, we are not yet able to prove a process of such delicacy in these inmost recesses to which our senses have not gained entrance " (p. 124). This appeal for leniency in judging the shortcomings of physiological re- searches because of the insufficiency of the present physiologi- cal means, can apply only to those minds who unreasonably expect what it is not possible to accomplish. For, taking it even for granted that the tracing of processes of such delicacy were possible, what could we expect to see? Molecular motion. 16 234 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. Would these molecular motions be the identical emotions? Who would dare to assert this? Who could prove it? We would, even then, be just where we started. Although further advanced in the knowledge of the concomitant changes in the bodily substratum during a psychical process, similar to the advancement of knowledge which we have gained in regard to the process of seeing and hearing by the discoveries of Helm- holtz and Corti, we would still not have arrived at the origin and nature of our emotions (just as little as by these discov- eries we have been made to understand the process of seeing and hearing in its character as sensation). It is the funda- mental error that taints the entire materialistic persuasion, to consider as cause what in fact is but a condition. Nobody de- nies that " an increasing specialization and complexity in the function requires a corresponding development in the organi- zation of the nervous structure," and we may even with toler- able propriety reverse this conclusion, and say that where we find a highly organized nervous structure we may naturally expect a corresponding specialization and complexity in the function. Still, this would not prove that the higher nervous • development is the cause of the increasing specialization and complexity in the function. It would merely state that these two things — higher organization and complexity of function — usually go hand in hand. I say usually, for on the ground of the great difficulty of judging fairly the perfection or imper- fection of so complex an organ as the brain, it is not always possible to arrive at a correct conclusion. Usually, for instance, the presence of numerous and deep convolutions is considered as a sign of higher intelligence. If this be admitted to be a law deduced from a majority of cases, it certainly does not apply to all. If materialism bases upon it the correctness of its conclusions, we should demand nothing less than its application in each and every instance. A single glaring exception would render these conclusions more or less doubtful. Thus, for example, we find in Henle's Nervenlehre, p. !63,r. Beale has, therefore, called it germinal matter; and we might well define it as the stuff which comprises within itself the primitive forces of all bodily development. What, in- deed, the primitive forces of the soul are for all and every kind of psychical development, this germinal matter is for all and every kind of bodily growth. To this point, as said before, the microscope reaches; but neither by the microscope, nor by the most subtle chemical means, are we capable of discerning any difference between the germinal matter of the lowest and of the highest forms of organisms. Still differences, and even vast differences, must exist between them from the beginning, as the life-history of the various forms which result therefrom clearly demonstrates. " Such differences," Dr. Beale says, "are of the vital kind, not recognizable either by the balance or microscope." If it were not that we knew already different kinds of primitive forces which are likewise beyond the reach of balance and microscope, we might well ask what was meant by differences of " a vital kind." With those who do not see further than the microscope permits, and do not weigh more than the balance is capable of marking, this vital kind of differ- ence has, indeed, been a great stumbling-block. It is, how- ever, useless to refute again the materialistic preconceptions which confound the knowable with the visible. The proto- plasm, indeed, contains primitive forces which lie absolutely out of the range of the microscope and chemical reagents, just as the primitive forces of the soul lie beyond chemical analysis; and they resemble each other not only in this, but in still other particulars. It is an essential attribute of living matter (protoplasm) that it has a tendency to move, that any part of this pulpy matter is capable of extending itself beyond another part, and of causing the rest to follow, as if each part willed to move and did so. We are well acquainted with this peculiarity as an innate quality, also, of all psychical primitive forces, and we have called them, for this reason, conative in their nature (24). They strive toward and are acted upon by external stimuli, and therebv become converted, changed, or modified, under THE RESULTS OF INVESTIGATIONS. 245 certain conditions, into perceptions, concepts, desires, etc., as the case may be. Just so the protoplasm moves toward and receives pabulum. Under certain circumstances its move- ments cease, and a change is observed to take place upon its surface This change may result in the formation of different substances, which may be soft or hard, colored or colorless. They are formed, and this formed material may be regarded as a product resulting from the collision of internal vital and ex- ternal physical forces. In short, the same fundamental process described in 4 we see repeated here, namely, the transformation of primitive forces by external stimuli. As in the human soul sensations and perceptions (mental modifications) originate in consequence of impressions from the external world, so in any kind of living being the protoplasm, which comprises within itself the primitive forces of all bodily development, is converted under certain conditions into formed material. The relation between the protoplasm and this formed material is definite ; so that from the same kind of matter, under similar conditions, the same formed substances result, just exactly as from psychical primitive forces the same mental modifications result when they are influenced under similar conditions, as is shown by the different but definite products arising from a deficient, full, pleasurable, satiating or painful stimulation. To sum up briefly: Soul and body consist, from the beginning, of primitive forces which, although unrecognizable by balance or chemical means, are, nevertheless, essential to any psychical or bodily development. They are mobile elements, conative in their nature, and are converted by the action of suitable external stimuli (" under certain conditions," Beale), either on the one hand into mental modifications, or on the other hand into formed material. Beale has described the conversion of living matter into formed material as taking place suddenly, without any tran- sitory state, and considers the difference between germinal matter and the formed material absolute. Having called the germinal matter living matter, he considers the formed material to all intents and purposes dead. This antithesis, although seemingly correct in the sense in which Beale uses 24G PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. it, might nevertheless be better expressed by "formative and form,ed" terms likewise used by Dr. Beale. For " living" and " dead " are concepts not generally accepted in a uniform sense. If Ave consider that formed matter, so long as it remains in union with and under the influence of "living" matter, which is the actual state of all living things, is not quite so " dead " as when this connection is entirely broken (in order to express this still " deader " condition, we speak of decay and dissolu- tion), we cannot help thinking that the word " dead " applied to formed material is not altogether a fortunate choice. It is true when living matter is converted into formed material it loses the power of spontaneous movement, and of assimilating pabulum, and changing pabulum into matter like itself; but, on the other hand, it gains by acquiring a definite form upon which it imprints indelibly its own innermost nature, and which is quite essential to the " life " of the individual. Is it well to compare this formative or organizing process with the process of " dying," a process which is always associ- ated in the mind with the idea of disorganization and decay especially when we see that the formed material remains con- tinually under the governing influence of living matter so long as there exists any connection between the two ? If, according to Dr. Beale, " some directing agency of a kind peculiar to the living world exists in association with every particle of living matter, which, in some hitherto unexplained manner, affects temporarily its elements, and determines the precise changes which shall take place when the living matter again comes under the influence of certain external conditions " (Prot.j p. 314), it appears that this " living " matter, so far as it is demonstrable, is itself dependent on something entirely dif- ferent from itself; that not it, but the " peculiar kind of agency " with which it is associated is the "living" force. Thus we have two different things to distinguish in every particle of " living " matter. First, what composes its invisible directing agency, and secondly, that visible, jelly-like substance with which the first is associated. By what right now is this stuff called " living " in preference to formed material ? The one as the other is alike animated by some invisible force. THE NERVOUS APPARATUS. 247 Why should formed material be called " dead," even if it is one remove further off from the " directing agency " than pro- toplasmic matter, so long as it remains likewise under the in- fluence of the power that animates the protoplasm ? But beside this there are other considerations which make one hesitate in the adoption of this sharply-defined antithesis of living and dead, when applied to protoplasm and formed material. The questions might be raised : Is there anything at all in God's world which could be called absolutely " dead " — that is, entirely destitute of force, entirely inactive? Is not everything that exists capable of action and reaction whenever brought under certain conditions ? We shall, however, have to recur to this subject at some future occasion. 94. Beale on the Structure and Action op the Nervous Apparatus. 1. "It was supposed that in many cases nerves pursued an almost direct course to their ultimate distribution, where they terminated in free extremities, in cells, or by becoming con- tinuous with the texture they influenced. More careful obser- vation has, however, demonstrated that all nerves, before they reach their finest ramifications, form microscopic networks or plexuses, are arranged upon the same plan as the coarser net- works ; and I have been able to demonstrate that the finest ramifications themselves constitute a plexus or network, in which the compound ultimate fibres are arranged in much the same man- ner as the dark-bordered fibres entering in the formation of one of the ordinary plexuses." (Microscope, p. 331.) " I am of opinion, therefore, that there is not such a thing as a true end of any nerve-fibre." (Microscope, p. 332.) " I consider that numerous specimens I have made fully justify me in maintaining the general proposition that in all cases the terminal distribution of nerves is a plexus, network, or a loop, and hence that in connection with every terminal nervous apparatus there must be at least two fibres, and that in all cases there exist complete circuits, into the formation of which central nerve-cells, peripheral nerve-cells, and nerve-fibres enter. All these elements are in structural connection with each other." (Microscope, p. 333.) 2. " My observations have led me to conclude, not only that nerves never terminate in ends in voluntary muscle, but that there 248 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. are no terminal extremities or ends in any nerve-organ whatever" (Biopl., p. 249.) " Nerve-tufts {Nervenhugel) are not terminal organs, but net- works. The nerve-tufts consist of a complex network of fibres, the meshes of which are very small. Connected with the fine nerve-fibres are numerous masses of bioplasm or nuclei. The plexus or network constituting the nerve-tuft is not terminal, nor does it result from the branching of a single fibre, as has been represented. Many fibres enter into its formation, and from various parts of it long fine fibres pass off to be dis- tributed upon the surface of the sarcolemma." (Biopl, p. 207.) " It seems to me most probable that these nerve-tufts are ex- ceptional and not present in all muscles, nor essential to volun- tary muscle generally. As in other tissues, the peripheral arrangement of the nerves in voluntary muscle is a continuous network, in which the nearest approach to an ' end ' or ' termina- tion ' is a loop." {Biopl, p. 268.) " The remarks which I make with reference to the ultimate nerve-fibres distributed to voluntary muscle, will apply to the ultimate nerve-fibres distributed to other organs." {Biopl, p. 274.) 3. " I will now refer very briefly to the arrangement of the nerve-tissue in that particular part of the gray matter of the convolutions which I believe to be the seat of the operation of the mental influence. At the surface of the gray matter of the convolutions a most intricate interlacement of the finest nerve-fibres is observed. I have traced fibres to the surface, a short distance beneath the pia mater, and have seen them turn back again into the gray substance. In many instances the long fibre that passes from the caudate cells may be followed to a point about the ■£$ of an inch below the surface, where it divides into numerous branches, many of which again divide and subdivide. In short, the ultimate ramifications of the long fibre running perpendicularly toward the surface, branch off at a right angle, or almost at a right angle, and radiate horizontally in every direction. They very soon, how- ever, turn inward again, and it is not possible to follow the individual fibres. Now, the surface of the gray matter of the convolutions immediately under the pia mater is almost destitute of bioplasts; but a little beneath this point, that is, in the situation exactly where the fine ramifications of the nerve-fibres are in greatest number, and are pursuing the most varied courses, are collections of roundish, very transparent, minute bioplasts, which are probably connected with one an- other by exceedingly delicate branches. These are in immense THE NERVOUS STRUCTURE. 249 numbers, but form groups, though in the intervals between the groups the bioplasts are still numerous. The appearances and arrangement of the bioplasts, which are for the most part less than a white blood-corpuscle, are not unlike those observed in the so-called granules constituting the granular layer of the retina, and in the cortical substance of the cerebellum. These minute bioplasts have been termed ' granules,' but such a name seems to me particularly inappropriate. These so-called * granules ' are all composed of bioplasm, and are examples of highly endowed living matter. In all the organs in which they are found, they constitute an essential portion, and per- form a very important office." (Prot., p. 319.) " I believe that the bioplasts referred to are directly con- cerned in mental action." (Prot, p. 321.) " The number of the nerve-fibres, like that of the bioplasts, is altogether beyond calculation. A portion of gray matter upon the surface of a convolution, not larger than the head of a very small pin, will contain portions of many thousands of nerve-fibres, the distal ramifications of which may be in very distant and different parts of the body. These nerves may, however, only indirectly influence distant parts through the intervention of other nerve-fibres, and some of them may be concerned in directing the associated movements of certain fibres of several different muscles." 4. " I believe the caudate nerve-cells, which form such promi- nent objects, and which are very numerous in the gray matte* of the brain of man and mammalian animals, ought not to bo regarded as the sources of mental nervous influence, although doubtless they are very intimately connected with, and, indeed, may be absolutely necessary to the act of thinking. These re- markable bodies constitute an essential part of the apparatus which is influenced by the mental bioplasts." (Prot., p. 321.) 5. " In the highest bioplasm the vital power determines movements, which, by reacting upon a previously formed mechanism, may give rise to the most complex phenomena. In the mental apparatus, the ' will ' is the ' power ' which de- termines the movements of the matter of the bioplasts taking part in the phenomena of the mind. This is a vital action, the highest vital action with which we are acquainted ; but clearly to be included in the same category as the vital actions which determine the active movement of the matter of the simplest forms of bioplasm, as that of an amoeba, or a white blood-cor- puscle, or other bioplast. The movement of this, the highest form of bioplasm, reacts upon a wonderfully elaborate appara- tus, parts of which are in close relationship with the mental 17 250 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. bioplasts. Changes excited in the apparatus are the immedi- ate consequence of the vital movements. These last only are truly mental, while the expression of thought is but a result of the influence of the mental vital action upon the mechanism concerned in expression, without which thought could not be rendered evident to another person. A great distinction must, indeed, be drawn between the thought and the expression of the thought." {Biopl , p. 208.) " Perhaps the relation borne by the little bioplasts to the nerve mechanism may be roughly, but not inaptly, compared with that which subsists between the intelligent workman and the highly complex machinery which he directs and controls, stops and sets going. He would be useless without the ma- chinery, but the latter could not work to any advantage except under the superintendence of an intelligent director." (Prot., p. 322.) 6. " From the foregoing observations the reader will be led to conclude that I regard a nervous apparatus as consisting essentially of fine fibres and masses of bioplasm, which form uninterrupted circuits. The fibres are continuous with the bioplasts, of which some are central, some peripheral, and grow from them. By chemical changes in the matter formed by the bioplasts, electrical currents may be produced, and these traverse the fibres. The currents, varying in intensity accord- ing to the changes in the nerve-cells, would be affected by pressure upon the nerve-cords which transmit them. Currents emanating from bioplasts at one part of the circuit would in- fluence the changes in the bioplasts in another part, and the last react upon the first." (Biopl, p. 209.) " Such investigations cannot fail to impress us with the won- derful character of the mechanism concerned in nervous phe- nomena, and lead us to conclude that the effects produced are to be attributed rather to the mechanism through which force works than to any mysterious or peculiar properties of the force itself. Let no one, therefore, conclude that anything is gained by regarding nerve-force as electricity, or some mysterious, unknown correlative of ordinary force, of the nature of which we know nothing. If we admit it to be ordinary electricity, the problem is not solved; for it is obvious that its manifesta- tions are due entirely to the peculiar arrangement of the nerve- cells and fibres which constitute the mechanism for setting free and conducting the currents. It is not possible to conceive nerve phenomena without a special nervous apparatus, and it would be absurd to ignore this apparatus in considering the nature of nervous action. The action of the machine cannot THE NERVOUS STRUCTURE. 251 be disassociated from its construction. But the construction of the apparatus and its maintenance in a state fit for action are due to vital power. The lowest, simplest, and least varied kinds of nervous action, like all other actions known in con- nection with the living elementary parts of living beings, are intimately connected with vital changes, and cannot be ac- counted for by physical and chemical laws only. When we assent to the consideration of the higher and more complex nervous actions, w T e find reasons for concluding that the vital actions perform a still more important part. In the brain of man w T e have probably the only example of a mechanism pos- sessing within itself, not only the means of repair, but the capacity for improvement, and the power of increasing the perfection of its mechanism, not only up to the time when the body arrives at maturity, but long after this, and even in advanced life, w T hen many of the low T er tissues have undergone serious deterioration, and have long passed the period of their highest functional activity." {Microscope, p. 338.) These few excerpts may be considered the result of Dr. Beale's researches, elaborately laid down in his exceedingly instructive works, regarding the action and structure of the nervous apparatus. Briefly stated they are as follows: 1. That in no case do the nerves terminate in free extremities, but in all cases form plexuses or networks; that they thus form circuits, into the formation of w T hich enter nerve-cells, peripheral nerve-cells and nerve-fibres ; that in fact the nerv- ous apparatus consists essentially of fine fibres and masses of bioplasm, which form uninterrupted circuits. The fibres are continuous with the bioplasts, of which some are central, and some peripheral, and the fibres grow from the bioplasts. 2. That this applies to the nerves of the voluntary muscles as well as to those of all other organs, and that, therefore, the nerve-tufts are not terminal organs, but networks ; so that in the peripheral arrangement of the nerves in the voluntary muscles, as well as in all other tissues, the nearest approach to an end or "termination" is a loop. 3. That in the gray matter of the brain the so-called "gran- ules" are composed of bioplasm, and are examples of highly endowed living matter, which is directly concerned in mental action. 4. That the caudate nerve-cells ought not to be considered 252 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. as the sources of mental influence, although they constitute an essential part of the apparatus which is influenced by the mental bioplasts. 5. That will and thought are truly vital mental actions, while the expression of thought is a result of the influence of this vital mental action upon the mechanism concerned in its expression. There is a great difference between thought and the expression of thought. 6. That by chemical changes in the matter formed by the highest bioplasts, electrical currents may be produced and made to traverse the nerve-fibres ; but that there is nothing gained by regarding nerve-force as electricity, or some mysteri- ous unknown correlative of ordinary force, as the construction of the apparatus and its maintenance in a state fit for action are due to vital power. 95. Psychological Application. These results are the fruit of the most careful investigations, instituted and pursued by Dr. Beale for more than fifteen years. They throw more light upon the structure and action of the nervous apparatus than the most diligent and minute physiological researches had thus far been able to do. In the brain, it was supposed, the nerves somewhere had their origin ; and yet, on closer examination, they were found to split and split until their finest ramifications escaped further tracing, while at the periphery the single fibres were thought to ter- minate in some way or other — here and there divisions ad infinitum — an unintelligible wherefrom and whither. The fine "granules" at either end, although noticed and described, were looked upon as strange objects completely unexplainable as to their nature and functions. By Dr. Beale's discoveries these obscure and intricate points have been cleared up. He has demonstrated that the "granules" contain the very fountain of life, inasmuch as they comprise within themselves that " directing agency of a kind peculiar to the living world ; " that they consist of microscopic bioplasts with which the nerve-fibres are continuous and from which they grow ; that PSYCHOLOGICAL APPLICATION. 253 the nerves do not terminate at the periphery, but form plexuses; and that thus the entire nervous apparatus must be consid- ered as consisting essentially of fine fibres and masses of bioplasm which form uninterrupted circuits. He further places the caudate nerve-cells in their proper rank as sta- tions of different nerve-fibres, and disowns them as sources of mental influence. He considers that the only matter in the gray substance of the brain which is directly concerned in mental action are the "granules," all of which are composed of bioplasm, and which are examples of highly endowed living matter ; but thought and will are truly vital mental actions, while the expression of thought is but a result of the influence of this vital mental action upon the mechanism concerned in its expression. In these results we find all that psychology as a natural science can ask from physiology. It is the same, final conclu- sion at which we have arrived in the preceding chapters, that the brain is not the cause but only the condition of mental activities. Bioplasm comprises within itself that "directing agency of a kind peculiar to the living world;" and the "granules," as highly endowed living matter, are associated with this agency which is directly concerned in mental action. This is the boundary where all physiological and micro- scopic-anatomical researches must necessarily come to an end. They have demonstrated the beautiful apparatus, the mechan- ism concerned in the expression of thought and will ; but the agency which causes mental action escapes their grasp. At this point we must either give up unravelling mental phenomena altogether, or enter upon their investigation by the only means which mental phenomena afford — consciousness in general and self-observation in particular. In the first three parts of this work we have shown what results we can attain by the method of investigation indicated — the study of con- sciousness and self-observation. In the following parts we shall still more enlarge our psychological knowledge upon the same basis of investigation. In concluding this physiological part of our work, it yet 254 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. remains to state what we, from our psychological standpoint, understand by " that directing agency of a kind peculiar to the living world," with which all bioplasm is associated, and which in the " granules," as highly endowed living matter, is directly concerned in mental action. We state that this agency, which is associated with the protoplasm of the human body, and which lies beyond any demonstration of chemistry or microscopy, consists of the several primitive forces of the human soul (1) ; or, as we as well might put it, the human soul consists of the several primitive forces which, being associated w T ith corresponding protoplasm, are the cause either of the production of mental modifications in consequence of the action of external stimuli (by the higher and lower senses), or of the production of bodily formations in consequence of the absorp- tion of pabulum (by the vital senses). All this will be made still more apparent as we proceed in our investigations. PART V. COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 96. On the Method of the Study of Psychology. Having thus far unfolded the results of psychological, as well as physiological, investigations in regard to mental evo- lution, it seems well to insert in this place part of a chapter from Beneke's work, " Die Neue Psychologies (Berlin, 1845), con- cerning the treatment of psychology as a natural science : " The human life represents itself in all its evolutions as one entire whole. We find exaltations, depressions, changes of dis- positions with the greatest rapidity transferred from the body to the mind, and vice versa from the mind to the body ; per- haps not the least disturbance takes place in either of them without affecting the other. Furthermore, up to our time all attempts have been futile to draw even a boundary line between the two with an appropriate precision. Is it the soul, or is it the tongue or the stomach that tastes, that has the sensation of hunger or satiety? If I have toothache, this bodily pain, as it is usually termed, is also part of my soul, holding a like rela- tion as my sensorial perceptions or my thoughts, which it dis- turbs in various ways, or which, on the other hand, may sup- press it even more successfully than the best specificum. " Under these circumstances it was but a natural conclusion to treat body and mind as one whole, and try to explain psychic evolutions out of the bodily organization. For thus ran the rea- soning process: Inasmuch as the psychic evolutions are the product of the greater perfection of man's bodily organization, compared with other animal organizations, so must also the (255) 25G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. results and laws of psychic development be explainable by the results and laws of bodily organization, and psychology must needs expect its solution from anatomy and physiology. " This doctrine was largely accepted in France. There origi- nated the ' systeme de la nature? the writings of Lamettrie (Llwmme plaute, Llwmme machine, etc.) in the past, while in our century it is advocated by Cabanis and Brussais, and the entire materialistic school. But all attempts in this direc- tion have failed thus far to bring about a satisfactory solution, and will fail in the future. They have talked of brain fibres, which were believed to produce conceptions and thoughts by their vibrations; of a nerve-spirit, which was supposed to flow from the extremities of the nerves to the centre of the brain and vice versa. All these assertions are hypotheses that merely float in the air — hypotheses, to prove the truth of which no anatomical knife or microscope has yet brought forth a single confirmatory fact. Still, let us suppose that in the future this might be done, what gain would it prove to be for such a ma- terialistic construction? What could be found would be nothing but peculiar kinds of changes — extension, color, density, motion, etc. We will allow the fullest freedom to the adher- ents of this doctrine, to devise and to combine, to their hearts' content, such qualities. With such combinations will they ever be able to produce anything like a thought, or any other psychic development of even a most distant similarity? " In this respect physiognomy and phrenology stand higher* What physiognomy and phrenology, in conformity to their fundamental ideas, endeavor to realize, is not an explanation of the mind through the body, but only a determination of cer- tain parallels between them ; and, although what has thus far been elucidated by them may not have yet come up to scien- tific requirements, still, what they attempt is a practicable pro- position, and, if achieved, might bring us many valuable hints and confirmations, useful for the classification and construction of psychic developments. An interpretation and deduction of mental processes, however, from these bodily parallels would still remain far away from the true explanation of the cause, even if they were carried and perfected with the utmost acu- men to the highest certainty. ON THE METHOD OF THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 257 "The incommensurability of mind and body had led others to a diametrical opposition to these attempts, and it seemed to be wise to try to construe psychology out of general ideas. The lat- ter method could not succeed, although in philosophy this method of psychological inquiry was for a long time the spirit dominating inquiries. As its advocates attempted to derive all truth a priori, from experience, and existing facts were consid- ered as of secondary importance only, it could not well be otherwise than that the doctrine of the psychical powers or fac- ulties found almost as many different explanations and deter- minations as there were different investigators. What the one believed to be innate, another called acquired, and so on. In short, speculative psychology, however ingeniously it was compounded and construed, offered nothing but guesswork and opinions toward the solution of the question. Under these cir- cumstances it was a natural consequence that a third way of handling the subject of mental science should have been inaugu- rated, namely, a method which, for more than two hundred years, has been followed with such marked and striking results in the upbuilding of physical science. It is the method by which investigation places itself entirely upon the solid ground of positive experience and facts, which facts are again, by means of induction and hypotheses, elaborated to higher views and general laws. " It has been doubted whether this method could be practi- cably applied to the study of psychology, inasmuch as our apperception of mental processes is quite imperfect. The experi- ences with which psychology has to deal are those of other people or ourselves. Experiments made on other persons must, it is asserted, necessarily be of quite an imperfect nature, because we can never observe immediately w T hat takes place in the minds of others, but can only guess at it from the external signs which they display by action or pantomime — surely a very unsatisfactory means to discern actual processes. The interpretation, too, of these signs is made solely upon the basis of our own mental development. We explain according to our views. Our own individuality is the barrier w T hich will often prevent a correct interpretation of another's individuality. 258 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. Thus, instead of gaining objective signs, the indispensable con- dition for scientific truth, we rise only to subjective opinions through the observation of others. "These objections, however, can be easily removed. They touch, indeed, only subordinate by-work. Though, on the whole, the ambiguity in the observations of others cannot be denied, we do not even need science to overcome this kind of obstacle. It is obviously true that the most varied interests of life are constantly at work finding out what another is think- ing, feeling or intending. From this constant observation a knowledge of the meaning of these external signs has been developed, is constantly increasing by the colaboration of millions, and is acquired from childhood and propagated from mouth to mouth. Beside, science is capable of perfecting this knowledge constantly, and has done so already with great success. Really, in this respect little is left to be desired for human knowledge. "Of a graver nature is the objection that in interpreting external signs we necessarily underlie them with our own individuality. The mistakes which have been made in this respect are innumerable. Take as instances the (frequently in their greatest part) monstrous tales about savage tribes, or the still widespread incapability of understanding people of a different rank or a different education or temperament. There is no doubt that the capability of knowing and understanding another does not reach farther than our own development has advanced. On the other hand, however, it is undoubtedly just as true that every man carries in himself, at least to a certain degree, the elements of all that can be developed by human nature. It all depends upon whether we separate accurately enough and combine again with sufficient skill what we per- ceive in ourselves, in order to become capable of comprehending even the apparent strangest combinations in others. In this re- spect the talents for observation have continually enlarged dur- ing the progress of the human race. Consider, for instance, the extent, the versatility, and at the same time the truthfulness to nature which present themselves in the works of Shakes- peare or Sir Walter Scott. With such facts before us we need ON THE METHOD OP THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 259 hardly complain of the incompetency and subjectivity of psychological observation. " But in order to be perfectly clear in this matter we have yet to consider the second, and indeed the main, source of psycho- lgical knowledge, namely, the observation of that which takes place within ourselves. This source has been objected to because, it is said, we may perceive but cannot observe ourselves, an objection which, indeed, could proceed only from those who have never made a persistent habit of observing them- selves. Observation is a process of the mind which does not, like sensation and perception, take place of or by itself alone. We find thousands who never make observations, even of the phenomena of the external world. Observation requires more than the senses. Take as an instance a physician, who is called to the bedside of a patient, and compare what he sees with that which the attendants of the patient see. The physi- cian at once associates the symptoms before him with all similar perceptions and notions of former experiences, and through them his present perceptions rise to an observation; he sees what is the matter in this particular case, while the attendants, although constantly about the patient, come to no higher mental operation than that of perceiving that the patient has such and such a pain, but the cause and connec- tion of the symptoms they never understand. This is true of all cases of external perception, and the same is true of our internal perception. The latter, like the former, is attain- able in any degree of clearness, definiteness, accuracy and energy wilich makes one capable of observing the most fleet- ing and faintest, as well as the strongest and most overwhelm- ing psychic processes with all necessary precision. But this capability must first be acquired, and acquired by a long train of special exercises in the direction of inner perception. Who neglects this training may attain to self-perception, but will never acquire a talent for self-observation. "Inner perception, it is further objected, cannot be armed and sharpened by instruments as external perception can. For the inner senses there exist no magnifying glasses. "Supposing for a moment that this were true in its fullest ex- 2G0 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. tent, that is, that self-perception were in want of all advantages which external perception enjoys by means of certain instru- ments, the objection would still apply only to a defect of second- ary importance, touching merely the perfection of knowledge which thereby'in single cases might be desirable, but it would in no way, as a whole, be of great weight in the present contro- versy. However, the assertion that the inner senses cannot be armed and sharpened, is not wholly true. There are a number of measures for psychological observation through which the same advantages may be received as through the application of magnifying glasses in making outward ob- servations. " Observe the psychical results of certain influences which have recurred for centuries in the same manner, or their effects upon whole nations, classes, ranks, etc., or even upon single mental acts, when they are very numerous. To illustrate the last instance, let us explain the effect which the subject and the predicate exercise upon each other in an act of judging. How can we find this effect out ? We answer, let us look through a magnifying process. Remember, for instance, the impression which was produced in you by the hearing of a masterpiece of music or poetry. The impression was, perhaps, at the first hearing overwhelming, exciting, confusing. You could not 'make up your mind ' as to its real merits. By and by you heard it again, and later again. Gradually you gained an in and oversight of the whole. You had time to add cor- responding concepts to the single perceptions, and the different emotions, the varying tone of your feelings, gradually crystal- lized in a series of judgments. That which at first by its super- abundance acted confusingly and indistinctly, by repetition has now become clear and distinct. Is this, as regards its contents, anything different from the first hearing of the same? By no means ; it is exactly the same piece of art still ; but you have had time to add from your store of previous acquire- ment the corresponding concepts which enlighten or bring into fuller light the single concrete impressions you now re- ceive. Just exactly what occurred in this instance takes place, on a large scale, in every act of judging, however insignificant ON THE METHOD OF THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 261 it may be; namely: The subject is rendered clearer by the addition of its corresponding predicate, which contains the same elements, but also a greater multitude of vestiges. On the other hand, let us suppose a man strongly inclined to live, as it were, in the realm of abstract ideas, which unfits him almost for the duties of common life, and let this man be thrown in contact with nature or into society, where he is constantly exposed to new and fresh impressions — then, al- though, on the whole, he will remain the same man, inclined to abstract thinking, he will nevertheless find his notions remarkably freshened up and even corrected by the unavoid- able impressions which he receives from his actual surround- ings. What we see consummated in this case is exactly, on a large scale, the same process that takes place in any act of judging; namely: The predicate or concept is freshened up again by the addition of a corresponding subject, which con- tains the same elements, but the elements are in concrete. We may say, therefore, that in this and similar ways there are indeed interior means by which psychological observation may be aided in a somewhat similar manner as external ob- servation is by auxiliary instruments. " A third objection has been urged. Psychological investiga- tion must necessarily lack in precision compared with the in- vestigations of external nature, because the sphere of the mind allows of no experiments. " If this were so, the same objection might be raised against many investigations of external nature, which likewise do not allow of experimentation. Think of the starry heavens. Even here observation is possible, because nature herself makes experiments before our eyes in continuous succession, even if some phenomena should happen only tw T ice in a century, as the transit of Venus. Quite the same is applicable to psychical evolutions. But self-observation may be practiced much more continuously and in combination with the obser- vations we may make on others, or which w 7 e may scan from the experience of others, and from literary works of all kinds. We indeed gain material abundant enough in regard to the development of the human soul, and in such perfection that 2G2 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. we, perhaps, might find no question which could not satisfac- torily be answered thereby alone. But the assertion that we cannot make experiments in our psychological investigations is entirely false. We are able, for instance, to meditate on a subject of thought immediately after we have done the same on a similar subject, or on something more or less different, with more or less intensity, for a shorter or longer time. We can do it after a temporary state of sheer vegetative existence, or in changing intervals with passive recollections and dreamy phantasies. We may meditate during various moods of the mind, under exciting invitations, prospects, expectations, or under the ban of opposite depressing influences, either con- nected with the subject of our thoughts or relating to entirely different spheres. Thus countless possible variations might be enumerated. Think, for instance, of emotions. We are able to keep them to ourselves or to communicate them to others of whom we expect either sympathy or the reverse. We may try to suppress them by putting ourselves to hard work, by reading serious literature or works of fancy of various kinds, by which similar or more or less heterogenous feelings are produced, and so on ad infinitum. "This proves clearly that the assertion, 'our self-observation could not be aided by experiments/ is utterly false. On the contrary, we may say, experimental aid is here applicable in a much greater variety than in any other sphere of external nature, because the measures necessary for the same lie generally much more immediately in our power; and any one who has properly posted himself as to the fundamental relations and conditions of the problem to be solved — a con- dition quite as necessary also for any successful experimenta- tion in external nature — will be capable of executing these experiments with all degrees of accuracy and strictness. " It is scarcely necessary to add that we can experiment on others in a like manner. Such experiments offer themselves even unsought and unconsciously under many circumstances. Those who ever have observed children will know that their teasings and contentions among themselves seem often to have no other object than experimentation with each other, for OX THE METHOD OF THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 263 they usually cease when their efforts fail to produce any more interesting effects. Although this sort of experimentation is denned by moral laws, the field of the allowable and practic- able is so large, we will scarcely have occasion to complain of a need in this respect. " But then, it is further asserted, that our knowledge of the mind will ever be incomplete, as in no way is it possible to ob- serve the first psychical developments which take place in the child, and, as upon these all further psychical development is based, we must ever remain in want of a positive foundation for our knowledge. " This fact is no doubt correct. What takes place in the first days, weeks and months of a child's life is never recorded by self-observation or recollection ; and what is observed by adults will ever be indeterminate and uncertain, not only in regard to the signs which the child itself exhibits, but also in regard to the interpretation of these signs on our part. With some it is still a question of doubt whether the distor- tions of the face, which we frequently observe in infants and which resemble a smile, are the result of a psychic process, which has some analogy to a conception of the ridiculous, or a feeling of something agreeable, or whether it is merely a spasmodic action of the muscles. " It is quite probable that most of the educational mistakes w r e make at this period, are due to a misinterpretation of such signs which the parents underlie (often incorrectly) with their own notions and feelings. " But, notwithstanding all this, it is nevertheless true that we are capable of acquiring the most positive and accurate knowledge of even the earliest processes in the infant's soul, if we have first acquired a knowledge of the processes in the developed mind. Let us exemplify this interesting and im- portant fact by a simile drawn from another branch of nat- ural science. The astronomer is enabled to predict the posi- tions of the different planets in respect to the sun, not only for any given time in the fiuture y but he can calculate also what that position was at any given time in the past. How is this possible ? Because the laws of evolution of the solar system are 264 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. valid in both directions, and permit, therefore, of a retrogressive as well as a progressive construction. This is exactly the case as regards the evolution of our souls. So soon as these laws are known with the requisite universality, precision and strict- ness, we have a perfect right to apply them backward as well as forward. The development in nature, as it actually occurs, is that from cause to effect ; but the natural development of science may, when circumstances otherwise permit, progress by the same means from effects to causes ; and therefore, although the elementary psychical processes are excluded from immedi- ate observation, they are, nevertheless, accessible to our cogni- tion if we trace mental developments backward ; and, as we may add, provisionally, with such perfection of intellectual insight as is scarcely possible of attainment in any other de- partment of nature. " Still another point has been raised, which, if admitted, is believed to prove the impossibility of gaining positive knowl- edge by self-observation. 'All self-observation? it is said, 'is essentially attached to consciousness. ' Only conscious develop- ment of the mind can be observed, and never the unconscious forces and faculties ; and thus not only one-half of psychological knowledge, but even its more important portion, is lost ; for indeed, all conscious developments are products of those inner forces and faculties which can be understood and explained only by a knowledge of the latter. " This objection we answer by the question : Does there exist any sphere in the external world in which things stand differently f We will not speak here of the medicatrix naturse and other like obscure powers and forces, but will mention only such as lie, in their effects, perfectly clear before our eyes, e. g., gravitation, attraction, impenetrability, electricity, magnetism. Who, we ask, has ever perceived what they are, by means of his senses? We perceive nothing but results, which we complementary underlay with what we call forces. The gap, the defect, there- fore, which has been objected to in regard to the material for psychological knowledge exists also in all other natural sciences. "In summing up our investigations we come to the couclu- THE OPPOSITE OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 265 sion that the objections advanced by the opponents of this method of treating psychology do not, by any means, prove that the science of ps} 7 chology is incapable of an equal ad- vancement compared with any of the other physical sciences." I must here cease detailing further Beneke's views in regard to the method of treating psychology as a natural science. His further explanations would involve us in difficulties which, at this stage of our investigations, could not satisfac- torily be understood. 97. Consciousness as the Opposite of Consciousness not yet Existing. One of the greatest obstacles in controversies of this nature is the ambiguous use of the word consciousness. Indeed, neither the speculative nor the materialistic method have arrived at a distinct understanding of what the term con- sciousness really implies, in its various forms, in the study of mental development. We shall try to gain, in the following sections, a deeper knowledge of the versatile nature of con- sciousness. In the first place we speak of that form of consciousness which is the most general quality of all mental modifications so far as they have developed in the mind. Before them con- sciousness does not exist in any sense, only with them light gradually begins to dawn, until by the accumulation of similar elements it reaches by degrees all possible shades of clearness and distinctness. It is, as we have said before, the general quality of all mental modifications. To relegate the term consciousness to the one form of mental modifications repre- senting the intellectual sphere of the mind only, the " Vorstel- lungen, ,} notions, concepts, etc., is to narrow the existence of consciousness within boundaries which do not exist. There is consciousness as well in all conative modifications and in all feelings; but there is no consciousness so long as neither one or the other of these types of mental development has come into existence. Thus consciousness, in the sense we speak of, is not the opposite of unconsciousness, but of conscious- 18 2G6 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. ness not yet in existence. It is even not existing to any per- ceptible degree in the first elementary acts which form the nuclei of these various modifications. It is only by the fre- quent repetition of similar acts and by the blending of the effects of these acts into one aggregate of sufficient strength that the quality of consciousness gradually and appreciably develops in them (10). The origin of consciousness, therefore, in our sense, as the general quality of mental modifications, requires an accumu- lation of similar sensory acts (which is brought about by the attraction of like to like), and the endurance of the several single similar acts as vestiges. As nothing else enters into the composition, it follows that the gradual rise of conscious- ness does not consist in any particular metamorphosis of the original acts; but, on the contrary, what originally conditions the rise of consciousness must be given already in those first elementary acts. If they do not show it in a perceptible manner, it is because they are yet too simple and too ele- mentary; they are consciousness yet in a state of incipiency. As furthermore these elementary acts consist of a specific development or modification of the primitive forces by ex- ternal stimuli (external stimuli alone nowhere else .produce consciousness), it follows that the main cause of the gen- eration of consciousness must lie in the primitive forces of the human soul. This view is further corroborated by the fact that in the different classes of the primitive forces con- sciousness is produced in different degrees, depending upon the greater or less degree of energy, or enduring power, with which the varied systems of primitive forces are severally endowed (8); and that the consciousness in animals never reaches the degree of clearness it attains in the higher senses of man, because the primitive forces of animals lack the peculiar energy which secures to the human soul its special spiritual character and nature. But the degree of consciousness varies, not only in the different systems of the primitive forces, but it is also de- veloped in different degrees in the three types of mental modifications. Perceptions, concepts (intellectual modifica- THE OPPOSITE OF UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL MODIFICATIONS. 267 tions) attain to a much higher degree of clearness than cona- tions and feelings, because they are products of more perfect vestiges, conditioned on the one hand by the greater retentive power of the higher senses, and on the other by the adequate quantitative relation of the stimuli to the primitive forces. The quantum of stimulus, being exactly adapted to the capacity of the primitive forces, produces a development of the latter in the most perfect manner, and results in clear perceptions (24 and others). As by the law of attraction of like to like all similar percep- tions again coalesce (15, 16), the notions or concepts which thereby originate must, therefore, be characterized by a still greater clearness of consciousness. Thus the mind attains to intellectual development, the highest degree of consciousness, which has its sole cause in the greater energy of the higher human primitive forces and the multiplication of similar ves- tiges into one whole by the law of attraction of like to like. Nevertheless, we must not overlook the fact that the develop- ment of consciousness is common to all classes of primitive forces, from the highest down to the lowest in energy — the vital forces — which have their bodily substratum in the gangli- onic system of the abdomen, represented by and concentrated in the solar plexus, which plexus stands in close connection with the spinal cord through the rami communicantes, and thereby also with the brain (72). These lowest senses, called thus on account of their lower degree of retentive power, are developed in just the same types of psychical modifications as the higher are, in the same forms of perception, conation and feelings, which at times, by a strong and lively excitation, may even overshadow and subdue the products of the higher senses. Instances of this kind are all sorts of acute (so-called) bodily pains, hunger, thirst, hypochondriacal feelings, sleepi- ness and the like. It is very important that this fact should be borne in mind, because there are states and conditions in human life which can alone be explained by a knowledge of these psychical modifications (developed in the lowest senses), and their far-spread influence over the entire activity of the human soul. This will be shown more fully when we shall 2G8 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. speak of sleep, dreams, somnambulism, instinct and similar phenomena. Consciousness developes in all classes of primitive soul-forces. It is, in fact, the innate property or quality of all mental modi- fications ; and we may well call the development of the primi- tive forces into conscious modifications statical mind, an expression which Dr. Maudsley uses in a materialistic sense, and by which we understand the sum and substance of all modifications whereof the developed mind consists and is made of. 98. Consciousness as the Opposite op Unconscious Mental Modifications. — Reproduction. The mental modifications which develop day and night, and year by year, necessarily and continuously in every human soul, which carry in themselves the quality of consciousness in the sense of which we have spoken, although in different degrees of clearness, must gradually increase to untold num- bers, even in ordinary minds. On closer inspection, however, we find that we are conscious of but comparatively few modifi- cations during any given time of our waking life. Of the rest of the immense number we know nothing, and the modi- fications just now conscious may, in the next moment, be swept away by the rise of others. Our waking state, indeed, consists of a continual coming and going of mental modifications, and many appear to lie buried so deeply that they never rise into consciousness unless some peculiarly exciting causes stir them out of their seeming lethargy. Instances of this kind I have mentioned already in 6, and illustrations might be greatly multiplied if it were necessary for my present purpose. It is clear, without enlarging further on this subject, that the sum of our conscious activity during waking life at no time exhausts the hidden treasures of the latent agencies we possess, or of mental modifications acquired. This shows at once the vast difference between what we here call consciousness and the consciousness of which we have spoken in the- last chapter. There we considered consciousness in its nascency, in its becom- THE OPPOSITE OF UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL MODIFICATIONS. 269 ing, here it signifies the rising into consciousness of modifica- tions already possessed of this quality, but at the time uncon- scious; it means, not a generation of consciousness, but merely a reproduction into conscious activity. It is, therefore, not con- sciousness as the opposite of consciousness not yet existing, but is the reproduction, the resuscitation, of mental modifica- tions already acquired, which before their revival were uncon- scious, or in a state of latency. We have already explained, in 12 and 13, how these states of excitation and quiescence are brought about. In order that a mental modification may be excited into consciousness, it is necessary that certain elements should be added to it, and in order that a mental modification thus excited should again sink into delitescence, it is necessary that it should lose some of these mobile elements. All this takes place accord- ing to the general law of diffusion or equalization of mobile elements, by which the latter, in all mental acts and processes, move from one modification to another until equilibrium is established. In the case of excitation certain elements join statical modifications which are thereby set vibrating, i. e., made conscious, while in the case of forgetting, a part of the exciting elements is transferred to other modifications, thus causing what originally was excited to settle down into qui- escence, i. e., to become unconscious. This perpetual alternation between excitation and deli- tescence takes place in children no less than in grown persons, even at a stage where consciousness, in the first sense, is still wanting in a perceptible degree. We see it clearly pronounced in the child's first unconscious actions or even reflex move- ments (89). But still both forms (the aggregate of similar vestiges, as well as the excitation of the same) must necessarily combine in order to produce consciousness in any sense, and this is the reason why for both forms the same appellation, "consciousness," is employed and so frequently used indiscrimi- nately. A psychical modification, if ever so multiple in its vestiges, nevertheless remains unconscious if it is not brought into a state of excitation or vibration ; and, on the other hand, in the earlier stage of life, the most excited psychical develop- 270 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. ments remain unconscious (that is, unknown) until they have attained the necessary strength by a fusion of a sufficient number of similar vestiges. Adding to this that the element- ary vestiges (which, in fact, condition the development of con- sciousness in the first sense) are also the actual basis of any excitation, the intimate relation of both forms of consciousness becomes still more obvious, and it is no wonder that super- ficial observation has constantly confounded the two. From these remarks it will readily appear that acts of thinking must necessarily be of a slower process than mere recollec- tions, imaginations and the like. We read, for instance, a tale of fiction much more rapidly than a scientific essay, because concepts, the essential constituents of thoughts and judgments, consist of a far greater number of elementary vestiges, all of which have to be excited if they are to attain to a full and clear consciousness. Naturally this requires a longer time. It also explains, on the other hand, the greater clearness of consciousness which excitation produces, if the psychical modifications thus excited consist of a large amount of elemen- tary vestiges; as we may readily experience if we compare, for instance, the effect of a lecture upon us, to which we bring the requisite preliminary knowledge, with the effect of another, the fundamental concepts for which we have not acquired or are not yet in a sufficient degree of perfection. The first we understand clearly, the latter will cause in us the impression of obscurity. As, furthermore, excitation is caused not only by an addition of external stimuli, but also by the action of primitive forces (compare 13), it follows that there must be a difference in the character of these excitations. Compare, for instance, the exci- tation an immediate view of a fine scene has upon us, with a recollection of that scene afterward by an effort of the will. The first is abundant in external stimuli, and will therefore be fresh, vivid, stimulating, while the latter, although it may be clear, will nevertheless lack in this freshness and bear more the character of tension and steadiness. But why is it that some mental modifications seem doomed to apparent oblivion ? The next chapter may bring us some insight into this matter. the direction of the current of excitation. 271 99. Direction in which the Current of Excitation (Reproduction) Proceeds. This is another important point we shall have to consider in connection with consciousness in the sense of excitation. I shall resort here in part to the language of my translator (Elements of Psychology, p. 196) : I am convinced that when I excite the notion of " hunter " in any one's consciousness, he will also think of "guu." A wild Indian, removed from all contact with civilized nations, would think of bow and arrow. If I mention the name of " Joseph " to any one acquainted with Bible history, he will think of the father Jacob, of Benja- min, of Egypt ; while one ignorant of the Biblical story might, perhaps, think of his own relative " Joseph," or of somebody living in his neighborhood having that name. If I mention the capital of Bavaria, " Munich," to a man of taste, he will certainly be reminded of the treasures of art existing there ; but the word will most likely only call up the notion " good beer " in one who is fond of that beverage. The word " Elbe " leads Bohemians to think of its surroundings in Bohemia, the Saxons of its surroundings in Saxony, the Prus- sians of its surroundings in Prussia, while the natives of Ham- burg most probably think directly of the harbor, the sea, etc. " Hamburg !" In the year 1842, when this word was men- tioned, everybody certainly thought of " great fire." At present, perhaps, it might suggest " many ships," at least it does in my case, and a merchant who has commercial relations with it will infallibly think of his house of business, etc., etc. Hence we see that in becoming conscious, different people, starting from the same ideas or notions, proceed in completely dif- ferent directions. What, it may be asked, is the rule by which this apparently undetermined direction is governed ? Let us examine the preceding examples a little more attentively. Why do we directly think of " gun " when the notion " hunter " is called up ? Because we originally perceived hunter and gun together, and have constantly thought of them together. Why does the Indian think of bow and arrow ? Because they 272 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. always attained to consciousness together in his soul. This is equally true in other instances. Now we know from 38 thai groups and series of the most varied psychical modifications {notions, desires and feelings) are excited into consciousness either together or in immediate succession by mobile elements, and they are not only permeated by the latter, but also connected into a whole; for a part of these mobile elements become firmly attached to these modifi- cations, and, as it were, cement them to one another ; this (quasi net-like) union becomes more firm and intimate the oftener these different mental modifications are excited into consciousness in the same grouping or in the same consecution, so that we may be sure that the whole group or series will become conscious the moment any member of it does so. All depends, therefore, on this one circumstance, how often different mental modifications have been simultaneously con- scious ; that is, how intimate the connection between them has been rendered by the fixing of mobile elements. Hence, the reason why, in the year 1842, the thought of " Hamburg " was certain to suggest " great conflagration," was because, at that time, both notions were often thought of together, and hence their union became very intimate. A good many years, however, have passed since then. Even before the fire, as well as after it, we had very often thought of Hamburg in connection with " many ships, harbor," so that the latter association is, on the wmole, a firmer and more constant one than the former, which was swiftly and strongly made, and it has consequently become again the usual one. I can very well remember how, even in 1842, the notion of Hamburg used constantly to call up the idea of " ships" in me; but it lost a good deal of its old force, because the notion of " awful conflagration " was at that time thrust so forcibly upon me. In the mind of a merchant con- nected with Hamburg, it is certain that at that time the no- tions " fire," " house of business," " loss," etc, contended for the mastery with all kinds of feeling until, at last more trust- worthy and assuring intelligence from that place caused " fire, loss," etc., to be forgotten, and left only the notions " Ham- burg" and "house of business " to remain in intimate and en- during connection. THE DIRECTION OF THE CURRENT OF EXCITATION. 273 Hence we arrive at this very simple law : The excitement proceeds from a conscious psychical modification immediately to that other which now is most intimately connected with the former, or is one (united) with it. Hence, in the native of Dresden, the notion " country " im- mediately suggests the environs of Dresden, and not those of the Breslau district. Hence a soap-boiler, when he thinks of "soap," is put in mind at once of tallow, ashes, boiler, etc., whereas a washerwoman thinks of dirty linen, and so on. Those modifications are most immediately connected (united) in our soul which have not merely frequently co-existed in consciousness at an earlier period, but which, beside that, are constructed out of the same elements; e. g., the concepts "tree," " house," etc., consist of the same elements as the individual trees and houses that we have seen, to the exclusion of merely dissimilar elements of the single perceptions. The same holds good in speaking of higher concepts in relation to lower ones. (See 15 to 17.) This explains why, along with a perception, the homogeneous concept corresponding to it starts involuntar- ily into consciousness; and along with a lower concept the higher concept of like kind starts with it, and in consequence we are, so to say, everlastingly forming judgments (18). The number of judgments which we express in words is very small, but the process of judging is constantly going on in the soul in proportion as similarities have been intimately con- nected by mobile elements, and are now usually excited to- gether. (Compare 38.) One other remark may be added. I said above, that in 1842 the notion of " Hamburg," though it suggested " fire," was yet constantly associated with that of " many ships," but the latter was at that time less strongly suggested; and in the merchant there can be no doubt that the notions of u house of business," " loss," etc., rose into consciousness in different degrees of force along with those of " conflagration," " ships." If I remind anyone acquainted with history of the Seven Years' War, the notion of " Frederick II" will, to a certainty, be in a moment associated with a number of others, as Ziethen, Keith, the Surprise at Hoclikirch, Daun, etc. ; but it is also cer- 274 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. tain that all these conceptions are not equally vivid. Some are more, some less fully present in consciousness, while others are barely excited at all, forming by their semi-obscurity the ex- treme horizon, as it were, the limit between consciousness and its total absence. Hence the mobile elements, as it seems, are not transferred in their whole fulness to the individual psychical modification which is most intimately connected with (or one with) that modification from which the transference is made. No ! l%e mobile elements rather diffuse themselves over all the psycliical modi- fications connected with it (the waking notion), but in a higher or lower degree proportionate to the closer or looser connection subsist- ing between them. (Compare 33.) Thus may be explained the fact that some psychical modi- fications excite a good many others into consciousness, while others only excite a few. It all depends on whether they were formerly connected with many or few psychical modifications. Hence it is comprehensible that the intensity of their con- sciousness is very diverse, varying according as the mobile elements are transferred to them in a greater or less quantity, which transmission of mobile elements itself depends on the closer or looser connection existing between them, and thus a larger or smaller number of vestiges in the notions affected are excited. When the mobile elements are concentrated on a few modi- fications, the latter are naturally excited and rendered con- scious with extraordinary strength, whereas we find ourselves in a condition of distraction or confusion when those elements are diffused over too many mental modifications. Furthermore, we frequently meet w T ith people who ride a " hobby." You can scarcely approach them on any subject but their hobby will be ridden. Their favorite idea has gained such a strong hold in their minds, and such an extension over all their mental activities by its numerous vestiges and its numerous attachments with other mental modifications, that it everywhere lies open to excitation through almost any conver- sation, or springs into consciousness by its own force or near- ness to consciousness, where it attracts almost any kind of THE DIRECTION OF THE CURRENT OF EXCITATION. 275 mobile elements. It lies, so to say, constantly on the verge or edge of consciousness (" an der Schwelle des Bewusstseins "), as it has been termed figuratively by Beneke and others. This shows itself especially strongly developed in persons suffering with monomania or fixed ideas. They may appear in all other respects perfectly rational, but almost any thought may excite into consciousness their one idea, which predominates over all by its strength and nearness to consciousness. On the other hand, it may and does happen that the connection with other mental modifications is broken by disease and the formation of new combinations. Former acquisitions may thereby be- come disconnected with the usual run of thought in after life; they appear extinguished from the mind to such a degree, that no effort of the will can resuscitate them into conscious- ness. This explains especially those cases where whole systems of languages, spoken in childhood, were completely forgotten until some extraordinary excitement would touch the old strings. (Compare 6.) There are still other seemingly puzzling facts that need ex- planation. For instance, the complete incapability, in some cases, of recalling what has been thought, spoken and acted during intoxication, fears, dreams, somnambulism, narcosis, insane paroxysms, etc., after these states have given way to normal consciousness. It appears almost as if in such cases two altogether different persons had been acting in the same organism. The recurrence of the same state again recalls clearly the thoughts and doings transacted in the first state. But even here the same law of reproduction governs all recol- lection : Only what has been closely connected by mobile elements into one whole during immediate presence or succession is capable of being reproduced at any other time. Now the cases referred to are all enacted on such a different basis from the natural state, and the transition of some of them into the normal waking state is so abrupt, that there exists either no connection at all between the two states, or the connection between the conscious ac- tivity in the two states is severed, and, consequently, a recall- ing of what has happened in such a state is impossible. Only where the transition state is gradual can the chain of con- 27G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. necting elements carry recollection out of a dream, or out of a state of somnambulism, etc., into the waking state of life. I have yet to speak of the different directions in which ex- citation proceeds during voluntary and involuntary reproductions. I want to have my room lighted. This wish will excite in me the means by which it can be done — either to open the shutters, or to light the gas, or to call a servant to do either the one or the other for me. These means, however, have previously always preceded the lighting of the room; that is, before this effect was produced, the one or the other of these means had to be applied. My consciousness, then, is excited backward, from the notion of an end to the means to secure this end. Why is this? Voluntary action is always produced by the transmission of primitive forces. In our case it is my wish or desire to have the room lighted. It is the primitive forces that strive for that end, because they were formerly modified by the stimuli now wanted, and therefore made pre- dominantly one with them; and this secures the excitation of those modifications which originally preceded the exciting wish. If, on the contrary, in learning a foreign language I excite with the foreign word the meaning in my own language, I gradually establish a connection between these two languages where the foreign word excites into consciousness the corre- sponding word in my native tongue. My consciousness is thus excited in the direction of what was excited always after the foreign word. By numerous excitations I gradually progress to such a degree that I am capable of reading understandingly a book written in that language ; that is to say, the connection between the expressions of the two languages becomes so inti- mate that the foreign always causes an involuntary reproduc- tion of my own, which in learning succeeded the foreign word. This connection remains, but it does not make me fit to speak or translate from my native language a single sentence cor- rectly into the foreign language, as this would again require new connections between the two languages. Thus we see that voluntary reproductions proceed backward to that which originally was combined most intimately with the primitive forces in the form of desires, while involuntary ATTENTION. — TACT. — PRODUCTIVE ACTIVITY. 277 reproductions proceed forward to that which originally was combined most intimately as following. All of which proves that even here it is the same law that governs reproduction; namely, that what is most intimately combined, or is one in existence, will always be first aroused by the exciting elements. 100. Attention. — Tact. — Productive Activity. This leads us next to a consideration of the term attention, which the old as well as the new physiological school of psy- chology use as if it needed no explanation. On the basis of what has been explained, we shall find no difficulty in giving a full analytical account of the mental process usually desig- nated by the term " attention." In the first place we must remember that even the most passive sensation requires active (conative) primitive forces to receive corresponding stimuli (4, 14). This is true even of the lowest sensations. Suppose one suffering with toothache be surprised by the arrival of a dear old friend whom he has not seen for many years. Where is the toothache ? As if by magic, it is forgotten. Although the irritation may still re- main, the new impression upon other percipient forces has suddenly called into consciousness another group of mental modifications, which group, by its powerful composition, at- tracts all the mobile elements for its own benefit ; that is to say, for its own excitation, thus withdrawing them from the former group connected with the irritation of the tooth, which is thereby set at rest. Even if single primitive forces should continue to be acted upon by the existing irritation of the tooth, the sensation of it will only be an elementary one, sim- ilar to the first sensations of a child's life. It will, in the pres- ence of the thousand-fold stronger modifications excited by the return of the friend, as regards its force of consciousness, sink down to comparative unconsciousness. We now properly say, he has forgotten his toothache and his attention is drawn in another direction. The same takes place when we are deeply engaged in a cer- tain train of thought, and still more so when fixed ideas pre- 278 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. dominate in the mind. Usual impressions then pass by un- noticed. We pay no attention to them, we say. Although elementary sensations may be produced by these impressions, we do not become conscious of them. Thus excitation may produce consciousness in all degrees of strength and in an uninterrupted chain of gradation, from the faintest consciousness of an elementary sensation we do not notice, up to the highest clearness and strength of a perception or concept in which our whole energy centres upon a single sensory impression. We cannot make at any point or stage a distinct line of demarcation which would demonstrate a specific difference between the one or the other degree of excita- tion. It is a more or a less only. All depends on how many vestiges previously acquired become excited with the present im- pression. What we, therefore, style the degree of attention we pay to what occurs around us, is nothing more or less than the amount or number of vestiges previously acquired joining the excitation of the present impression. The greater the number drawn into the excitement, the more intense will be our attention; the less that become involved in it, the more superficial will it be. Hence, in order to secure the attention of an unscientific crowd, the popular lecturer must present his ideas in a language familiar to his hearers; that is, he must try to excite such mental modifications as really exist in the minds of his hearers, and only so far as he is capable of thoroughly rousing these vestiges into consciousness will he succeed in securing attention. "For we are more attentive when, along with a present im- pression, the vestiges previously acquired and of a like kind with it are excited in large numbers. We are less attentive when less of them are so aroused. To objects of which we do not possess any vestiges we can naturally show no attention, e. g., for a language unknown to us. In such a case the im- pressions are apprehended by mere unmodified primitive forces, along with which, of course, similar sounds in our mother tongue may be excited, but they are incapable of giving us any comprehension of the foreign language, because the sounds ATTENTION. TACT. PRODUCTIVE ACTIVITY. 279 of the latter are not yet associated with the objects they repre- sent. In like manner, if we have sufficient vestiges within for comprehending an object, but the vestiges are not excited be- cause too many other modifications are aroused (so that the exciting elements are used before they reach them), we shall be completely unable to attend to the stimuli from that object. Consequently, attention is only intense when the mind is free -f~ from excitation of a different kind, and when the vestiges on which attention depends do not take up the impressions in a mere passive way, but actively (in an already excited condi- tion) meet them, and are, therefore, on the look-out for them." (Elements of Psychology, remark on p. 191.) This is what act- ually occurs in any process of the mind styled attention. Atten- tion is the arousing of vestiges previously acquired to assimilate a present impression. In some relation to this process stands what we call " tact." For consciousness in the sense of which we have spoken last (as the excitation of vestiges already acquired), bears a mighty influence also upon the improvement and further development of our interior being. From conscious modifications also can an excitation be transferred to the generation of action, of utterances, etc. ; and only conscious modifications can combine themselves in higher forms of intellectual development. It, hence, becomes clear that the effect, to a certain degree, must be the stronger and the more perfect, the clearer consciousness developes itself. I comprehend a philosophical problem only so far as I am in possession of the notions, concepts, etc., neces- sary thereto, and am able to reproduce them ; and I show favor or benevolence to a person only so far as the benevolent feelings I bear toward him are roused into consciousness. Yet, on the other hand, we notice also results which do not in a like manner depend upon the highest degree of excitation, but for which a less degree of consciousness is obviously more serviceable than a higher one. Anyone who is learning to play a musical instrument has to bring into consciousness every single act necessary thereto; that is, he has to acquire special knowledge of every single note and its meaning in re- gard to sound, of every single key or string to be touched, etc. 280 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. For the expert player this would be an incumbrance decidedly marring the effect he wants to produce; because the excitation, if full for each single act, would require so many mobile ele- ments, that it would be impossible for him to excite the many different modifications in so short a time as is necessary for his present execution. For him, therefore, it is more service- able, even necessary, that of the acquired modifications only few of their vestiges be excited ; that they, so to say, be merely touched, in order to pass quickly through the necessary excite- ment and to leave room for others to be excited. It is similar to what we call " tact " (as fine tact of judgment, practical tact). The new psychology proves that this is not at all the result of a special innate talent, but that it is the pro- duct of the reproduction and activity of the series of merital modifications, which by former experiences have been acquired, and which now act as the basis upon which the present judg- ment is executed in full and clear consciousness. But these series of modifications are so numerous and follow each other so rapidly that they do not rise into full conscious- ness, because neither the quantum of mobile elements nor the time given would suffice to allow their full excitation. They are merely touched passingly, and this slight touching makes it possible to accomplish more in the same space of time than would be possible if every single modification had to be excited in all its numerous vestiges to its highest degree of consciousness. This takes place in a still higher degree during the process of productive (creative) mental activity, and it is the reason why all higher mental productions are effected more or less uncon- sciously. The many thousands of psychical acts required to perfect mental work do not and cannot be all developed in a like degree of consciousness. Nevertheless they must be excited sufficiently to be capable of forming the chain of reasoning from the first to the last link of the productive activity. In regard to what is called practical tact we have similar relations. Several series of means for the accomplishment of a certain end, with the possible effects of each single one, roll off in such rapid succession that we do not at all become fully conscious of the single links and relations of these series ; per- THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 281 haps only one or the other link appears more marked, or we gain only a general impression of the whole. Of our reflection, of the reasons for our action in such a case, we cannot give a sufficient account. Yet, if these series are the products of cor- rect perceptions and observations, if they have been retained in perfect integrity, this rapid and, to a certain degree, uncon- scious mental operation will have the same effect as if each single link of the same series had been excited in slow succes- sion and to full consciousness. It is under these circumstances the different series of ends and means measure themselves, during their excitation, in regard to the strength of their com- bination (which depends upon a more or less multiplied observation), through which a more or less sure result is secured, and also in regard to the intensity of the interest combined with the different results. The strongest series will here, as anywhere, attract most of the mobile elements, and thereby be lifted into the foreground ; while that which is com- bined with the intensest interest will attract most of the cona- tive elements, and thus our action will be the same at last as if we had been prompted to it by the slowest and ripest con- scious deliberation. (Compare Beneke, "Die neue Psychologies p. 189, and his Psychologische Shizzen, Vol. II, p. 274.) 101. The Laws of Association. We come now to consider the laws of association the old school of psychologists deemed necessary to construct, in order to find an explanation for the apparently wonderful freaks which the course of excitation frequently takes. They state that the different modifications are aroused : 1. According to the law of simultaneity: for what we have seen, heard, etc., together, that we remember again together. Quite right ! hxit-^why ? 2. According to the law of succession: for what we have perceived as immediately consecutive, we produce in conscious- ness in a like order. True ! but — why ? 3. According to the law of similarity : for very often mental modifications arouse others resembling them. True again! but — why f 19 282 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 4. According to the law of contrast: for black frequently suggests white. Eight again ! but — why ? 5. According to the law of locality : for when we think of the church, we usually think of the church-yard also. Correct! but — why ? 6. According to the law of the relation between thing and quality: for when I think of a sphere the concept "round" is simultaneously suggested. Very true ! but — why ? 7. According to the law of causal connection: for when I think of " fire " I frequently become conscious of the notions of its effects, " light and heat," or conversely. But — why ? All these "whys" to which we find no reply in the old theory, admit of a simple and easy answer, in accordance with the laws of the new psychology explained in 99. We proceed to prove this. 1. Those things of which we are simultaneously conscious are al- ways permeated by mobile elements, and, since a portion of the latter remain attached to them, they are closely bound together (38). This connection is less perfect : 2. In the case of succession, when, by the appropriation of mo- bile elements, only the end of the first grows on to the be- ginning of the second, and the end of that to the beginning of the third, mental modification, etc. Consequently, succes- sion is only a partial co-existence in time, though, when often repeated, it leads to a close connection. Sign and thing signi- fied, wdiich belong here, are usually very closely associated (38). 3. The similar is a mixture of like and unlike parts. So far, however, as psychical forms resemble one another, they always fuse into one whole (9). Consequently, owing to the similarity of their parts, like in the soul must be awakened by like. Naturally the dissimilar parts in such modifications are also brought into consciousness, and, as a consequence, these modifications, otherwise alike, are now recognized as only similar. But while thus simultaneously co-existing, they are cemented to each other by the appropriation of mobile elements, so that afterward the similar is able to attain to consciousness THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 283 from this fact of connection as well. Hence the excitation of the similar rests on the law of simultaneity in time. 4. Nor is the case different as regards contrast. When am I able to say that two objects are contrasted ? When I have thought of them both together, and have impressed on my consciousness their greater or lesser differences. Consequently, the fact of their being simultaneously present to consciousness is the reason why mental modifications the most heterogeneous are interconnected by the retention of mobile elements. Afterward, if no other or stronger associations prevent it, they are restored to consciousness united. 5. That which is connected in space is always perceived as something simultaneously or successively existing, and as such its parts must be connected with more or less firmness by the mobile elements. Exactly the same holds true of 6. The relation between a thing and its quality, and also of 7. The causal relation, and depends solely on a constant and unceasing succession of different effects as processes in the soul, and also for the most part in the external world (39). Hence all these so-called " laws of association " may be reduced to the one law — a complete simultaneity in time and a repeated sequence ; that is, an entire or partial simultaneity in consciousness ; and they must be so reduced, because experience shows that that which comes into consciousness at separate points of time is never associated. That alone which is excited at the same time can appropriate to itself a portion of the mobile elements and thus grow into a whole. Still, this would not explain why, when a number of mental modifications once conscious together are reproduced, the current of excitation should set from this particular modifica- tion toward that one, and not in some other direction (com- pare the examples in 99), if we did not know that the mobile elements are always immediately transferred from one mental modi- fication to that other which, at that time, is most intimately connected with it, or is one with it. The intensity of this connection depends, however, partly on the fact that mental modifications simultaneously in con- sciousness are repeatedly permeated by the mobile elements, and 284 COMPLEMENTARY CNQUIRIES. partly on the greater or lesser fulness with which these elements are, as it were, shed over the modifications to be awakened. Experience, too, proves that the visible more easily excites the visible, the audible the audible, etc., than the visible does the audible, and conversely (all else being the same), which manner of action evidently depends on the greater original similarity and consequent closer connection subsisting between the primitive forces. Whether, then, in this or that case the law of similarity, or of contrast, or any other prevails, depends simply on the inten- sity of the connection subsisting between the different mental modi- fications. If we were accurately acquainted with the intensity of this connection in all cases, we should be able to invariably predict what mental modification would be aroused into con- sciousness by any other under any given combination of cir- cumstances. In our own case, and in that of others with whom we are well acquainted, we already, as a fact, know beforehand what the course of excitation will be. (Elements of Psychology, p. 202, etc.) 102. Memory, Recollection, Imagination (" Einbildungs- vorstellungen "). We have already spoken about memory in 7, and shown that memory is not a special faculty aside and apart from the primitive forces, but that it consists simply and solely in the quality possesssed by the primitive forces of remaining more or less permanently in the definite change which the external stimuli have wrought in them. This memory is the founda- tion of all that is further developed as concepts, judgments, etc., groups, series, feelings of pleasure and pain, desires, repug- nancies, etc., and in it the mobile elements play a chief part as connecting elements. Most of the modifications which continue to exist in the mind are groups and series which have grown up out of con- nections established between the fundamental modifications, i. e.j such as first came into existence (as, for instance, the con- cept " tree " consists of several different perceptions, roots, MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 285 trunk, branches, etc.), which would not, it is true, vanish from the soul if that connection were broken, but would merely cease to exist as this particular concept. The case is just the same with the concept " house, man, garden, apple, table," etc. (See 38.) But of all fundamental, as well as of all derivative modifications, the law holds true that what has been once pro- duced in the soul with any degree of perfection continues to exist, even when it has ceased to he excited, and has, consequently, lost consciousness. That which w T as conscious merely becomes unconscious, or continues to exist in the substance of the soul as a "vestige" (6.) It has become u statical mind." This un- conscious continuance of what has once come into existence in the soul is memory. It cannot, therefore, be limited only to notions and concepts. Desires, volitions, feelings, etc., have their memories as well. It is natural that every modification should continue to exist more perfectly, in proportion to the vigor with which it was at first generated, and the oftener it has been recalled into consciousness and strengthened by repeti- tion. Hence, the perfection of memory depends on two circumstances : 1st. On the perfection with which the psychical modifications were originally produced. The fundamental modifications (sen- sations and perceptions) will be less liable to be lost in propor- tion as the primitive forces are more vigorous (7), and in pro- portion as the external stimuli act with greater strength and fulness (11), (but this fulness must not be inordinate) (24); and the derivative forms will be more permanent in proportion as the elements combined are similar (38), and the more intimate the connection between them is rendered by the mobile elements (38). 2d. On the strength infused by repetition into what already exists within. Here again two cases are to be distinguished. A modi- fication frequently repeated is either strengthened by fresh and homogeneous vestiges which are added to it (9), or the number of vestiges is not increased, but, on being repeatedly excited, they attract mobile elements and so become more perfect, which is also true of all other associations produced by the diffusion of mobile elements. 28G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. The latter mode by which mental modifications are strength- ened is particularly conspicuous in the process of learning anything by heart. Not only do the connecting vestiges in- crease, but the modifications so repeated themselves appro- priate a portion of the exciting elements, and, by so doing, grow, if the expression is allowable, in bulk, in space. The same occurs when we are in a state of expectancy, or anxiety, or in love, etc. We are then much teased by such matters, and, indeed, when any other state or act is reproduced (even where that act or state is attended by disgust). Furthermore, what people call favorite inclinations, hobbies, whims, etc., are modifications of a similar kind which have been strengthened by mobile elements. They are not merely very permanent in an unconscious form (in memory), but they are ready to spring into consciousness at the least provocation. From continually appropriating exciting elements they have acquired an extra- ordinary facility of becoming conscious — a great " nearness to con- sciousness. ,f Repetition, therefore, does two things, and these ought not to be confounded : Increase in the number of vestiges by ex- ternal elements strengthen the modification and increase its clearness; the appropriation of mere mobile elements strengthens and increases the readiness with which the modi- fication becomes conscious. An obscure notion, though re- peated internally many hundred times, does not become any clearer, it only gains in nearness to consciousness, and is more ready to start into consciousness. In the former case, the " in- crescive space " of the modification is increased by the addition of the same external stimuli from which it originally grew. In the latter, the " accrescive space," by the addition of internal mobile elements, which merely excited it into consciousness. We must always bear in mind that new vestiges can never be acquired by merely reproducing internally (re-exciting) men- tal modifications which have been engendered by external ob- jects. Connecting vestiges alone can be increased in this way. But, more than this : Acts of reproduction, suggested by some- thing external, yet not by the object itself, leave the original vestiges exactly where the new external excitant found them MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 287 — unaugmented. You may, for instance, remind me by words ever so often of a melody, but I shall not know it at all until I hear its notes. In like manner the number of vestiges in a concept, as " bird of prey/'' can be increased only if I actually perceive more birds of prey, so that the combination of similar elements previously obtained is enriched by actually new elements. This is true in all cases. Without another similar or analogous act there is no increase in the number of vestiges. But there would be no harm in regarding this strengthening of a psychical modification by means of the mobile elements as being, in a way, an increase in its vestiges, provided this particular species of vestiges were never con- founded with those properly so called. On the contrary, since we do and must speak of connecting vestiges, there are many cases, especially in the act of learning by heart, etc., in which it would not be improper to call these secondary vestiges, vestiges of reproduction, and so mark them off from the original vestiges which are the products of the direct action of external stimuli upon primitive forces. These vestiges of reproduction are obviously of great im- portance in strengthening our desires and repugnancies. From all this it follows that memory is not a special and innate faculty of the soul — able to exhibit a general and higher activity when generally exercised. On the contrary, every single mental modification has its own memory, and in a more perfect degree the more perfectly it was originally formed, and the more it has been strengthened by repetition. When, therefore, we ascribe to a man a greater or less per- fect memory, this must be understood as being true on an average of his primitive forces ; for in every soul, however perfect the soul may be, there are always modifications more or less imperfectly developed (resulting only from a few ves- tiges), and these vestiges are, consequently, deficient in the property of a " good and perfect memory." But is it not true that a man who knows German and Latin can very easily learn English ? If it were true it would seem that increased vigor of memory may be produced by the pro- cess of learning a number of words. Let us look more closely into the matter. 288 COMPLEMENTARY ENQUIRIES. Consider the words, " der Vater, pater, the father; der Bruder, the brother, f rater ; Ich habe, I have, habeo ; em, one, unus; drei, three, tres; seeks, six, sex; zwblf, twelve, etc." There is obviously a remarkable similarity between these words and the resemblances are very extensive, because, as is well known, the English language is a product of German, Latin and French. • Now, if any one is well acquainted with the latter languages, it must follow that, in learning English, the similar words already existent in his mind must be called up into conscious- ness along with the new English w T ords. It is thus that the new finds a firm foundation in the old. Old acquaintances meet, and the vocabulary of the English language has not to be learned completely apart and from the beginning. The 'pronunciation and other peculiarities are the only points for which a new and special consciousness has to be founded upon an assemblage of fresh vestiges. Hence w T e may certainly affirm that: Memory may be so exercised and improved as to be able with greater ease to apprehend and retain new impressions ; that is, so far as that which is already rooted in the soul is able to coalesce with the new apprehensions and be homogeneous ivith them, and is therefore capable of forming a constituent part of them. But only to that extent. Hence Ave may explain how it is possible for the botanist to apprehend and retain, with such marvelous accuracy, all that relates to his pet subject, and yet not be anything like so suc- cessful in other matters. Take the case of the so-called " living chronicle," the village or town-gossip, who carries about in his head and on the tip of his tongue every petty detail he has ever heard relating to every house, every family. Another man, endowed with far more vigorous primitive forces, w r ould possibly find it difficult to bear all these things in mind. The gossip finds no such difficulty, for the last piece of news meets with such a multitude of similar vestiges and modifications, that it becomes fixed without any exertion. Of course, the " interest " w T hich such people have in such matters plays a part; but that interest is, after all, nothing more than the larger number of vestiges which certain kinds of mental MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 289 modifications have attained in them. This case is, therefore, identical with the others mentioned above. But of what use are the strongest and clearest mental modi- fications if they remain permanently in a latent state, and can- not be called into consciousness, or, as we are accustomed to say, we cannot remember or recollect them ? Since there is a difference between rising into consciousness (being repro- duced) and recollecting, we must say a word or two concerning the latter. " I was a boy of eight or nine years of age when Napoleon led his soldiers to Russia. A division of his army passed through the little town N . The Guards formed part of it. I can see the bearded, bold fellows now. How self-confident they were ! In what upright, soldiery trim they marched along! In ranks of six men each they passed through. Regiment succeeded regiment. The houses trembled, the earth groaned under the mighty, strong tread. It was, indeed, an inspiring sight, and I think I shall never forget it, nor will my sister either. She and I peeped down into the street from a top window," etc., etc. Thus talks an eye-witness, and this much is clear from what he says : While telling his tale, a crowd of psychical modi- fications became successively conscious in his mind, and those modifications all belong to one another, because at a former period they were all excited at one and the same time ; or, more precisely, to the leading notion, "Passage of the Guard," are attached those modifications engendered by the circum- stances, the time, the place, etc., under which the main notion was formerly engendered. When repeating this narrative, not only the same series of modifications which were excited when I heard the story be- came successively conscious, but I also think of the person who told the story to me, and of the time, the place, manner, when, where and how he told me. When anything of this kind takes place in the soul, viz. : When the process of becoming conscious starts from some main or leading notion, and proceeds so far that the notions of circumstances, time, place, etc., under which we formed that mental modification, 200 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. also become conscious with it (so that it is brought again into con- nection ivith our former life), we say we have a recollection. Recollection, then, is nothing but a continued process of becoming conscious; and as those modifications alone can attain to consciousness which have been fixed in the soul with sufficient strength, and by a sufficient number of ves- tiges, it is clear that perfect recollection Firstly, depends on the perfection of the memory. (See above.) It is useless to have the strongest mental modifications, composed of many vestiges, unless they are or can be excited into consciousness. This excitation into consciousness takes place by means of the mobile elements, and it takes place the more completely in proportion as the latter are abundant (98). Hence perfect recollection depends also Secondly, on the fulness of the mobile elements. It often happens that mobile elements are present in suffi- cient numbers, and also the mental modifications which might become conscious are in no wise deficient in the number of vestiges, yet the restoration to consciousness which we desire does not occur, or, at least, only with such slowness that when it does occur it is too late. (Compare 14.) Perfect restoration to consciousness, and consequently perfect recollection, re- quires Thirdly, in particular, a high degree of vivacity on the part of the primitive forces. What, then, is the faculty of recollection ? It is certainly not a special innate power. On the contrary, the phenomena of recollection are completely explained by the fact that mental modifications are permanent, and that they are rendered conscious by the mobile elements, according to a definite law (99). Man consequently does not possess a single faculty of recollection, but he has as many recollections as he has mental modifications capable of reproducing themselves as leading notions in company with those which are subsidiary to and allied to them. All those mental modifications which are excited or repro- duced purely from within, and not at any present moment from without, are called reproductions of the imagination, using MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 291 the term imagination in its widest sense. As produced from within, they become conscious afresh in the manner described in 99. They are not at all actually produced or formed for the first time. The expression, imagination (Einbildung — Innenbildung), dates from a time when psychology was in a very backward state, and the so-called " power of imagination " is generally synonymous with reproduction, or becoming conscious. Only in a very few cases do we know at what time and by what definite impressions these internally excited modifica- tions were originally formed or produced (as perceptions), and we are consequently unable to say which of the objects repre- sented by them were the first to produce an impression upon us, as when, for instance, we began to form the concept, house, tree, bush, water, beer, wine, etc. Innumerable objects of a like kind helped us to gain these perceptions, and the similarities in them soon coalesced into concepts; the consequence of which is that for the most part we reproduce these modifications in the concept-form, and especially so where the reproduction follows rapidly. It is at the same time true that all these re- productions of the imagination, supposing them not to have been elaborated into recollections (see above), bear, when they return unabbreviated and unchanged to consciousness, a stamp of generality, i. e., they are applicable indifferently to many objects of a similar kind, and hence are fitted to form constituent parts in distinct and new modifications we are prompted to form by external or internal stimuli. The conse- quence of this is that the new product is, in the main, formed out of old material. Hence the development of the soul de- pends, in a special manner, on the way in which these repro- ductions of the imagination are applied. When reproduced by the object which first caused them, or by one exactly like it, they give rise to perceptions ; when recalled to consciousness by something other than such an object, by a mere word (a word is, of course, never the thing or the object ? except in the case of learning a language), or by mobile elements, they remain mere concepts of the imagination or re- production. By merely connecting them with each other 292 COMPLEMENTABY INQUIRIES. afresh we obtain all those new combinations (groups and series) which are produced in us when listening to a narrative, when reading a book, when being informed about some absent object, when reflecting on past events, etc. Imaginations, in the widest sense of the word, mean, there- fore, all mental modifications reproduced in consciousness by something else than what has first produced them, and differ completely from fancies ("Einbildungen"), by which, in com- mon parlance, are understood only such imaginary notions, feelings, judgments etc., as are false, i. e., contrary to facts. That it should be extremely difficult to figure to ourselves, w T ith perfect correctness, objects which we have never beheld, from a mere description of them, is natural, since nothing but actual perception can give the exact correlative and reality corresponding to a description. Hence every one, w T hen he at length gains sight of an object which he has frequently imagined to himself, says: "After all, I did not think it was exactly what I now behold." This is the reason why there neither are, nor can be, two men who represent God to them- selves in exactly the same manner. If we consider these reproductions of the imagination more closely, we find an important difference between them. Some return to consciousness in a dull, indifferent way, others with such freshness and vividness as if they had just been formed as perceptions. The latter class only, remarkable for their vivacity and freshness, are usually called reproductions of the imagination, in the narrow sense of the term. What is the cause of this freshness ? To a certain degree it depends, in the first place, on their original formation. The more lively the external stimuli acted when they were pro- duced, the more lively naturally will be their return to consciousness, provided they retain the fulness of their stimula- tion. Now, the appropriation of a higher degree of stimula- tion depends on the higher sensitivity of the primitive forces. Hence, a more than ordinary degree of sensitivity on their part is one condition upon which the formation of the imagination depends, in the narrower sense of the word. In cheerful company, when in the midst of fresh and MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 293 charming scenery, in joy and anger, etc., we feel that the re- productions in the imagination of modifications which even at other times are dull and sluggish (briefly, our ordinary ones), start forward with particular vivacity. Why? Because in such cases a considerable amount of mobile elements, especially of the external kind, are transferred to the old, sluggish modi- fications which the mobile elements receive from the fresh and livety perceptions then produced, or from violent emotions and inclinations (31). Accordingly, the reproductions of the imagination (in its narrower sense) depend also on the greater abundance of mobile stimuli (by which they are more fully excited). When such vivified modifications of the imagination, which are already to a greater or less degree connected with others, are led to enter into new groups and series, because the strong- est and most lively of them attract what is similar to them and bring them simultaneously into consciousness, the con- sequence is that the remainder lose their mobile elements, and, with the loss of mobile elements, the imaginative modifica- tions lose consciousness, and there arises what is called "fantasy " or the creative (productive) power of imagination. Every poem proves this. Can it be said that a new poem represents new mental modifications ? Not in the least. They are rather interconnected in subordination to one leading idea, the liveliest of them all, e. g., the idea of wine, love, harvest, etc., and in such a novel form that they assume a special relation to it, and so constitute a drinking-song, a love or harvest song, etc. Such a poem we call " original " and " clever," when the conceptions so connected represent a whole which has never existed in that precise shape, and which elevates and enlivens every reader capable of comprehending it. On the contrary, when this original element does not exist, we call it " flat," " insipid," " commonplace," etc. The epithet " creative " applies to " fantasy," not as regards the object (matter) which it represents, but only as respects the mode in which it combines mental modifications, i. e., only as respects the form. Fantasy, again, is not a special innate faculty of the soul. It can have no existence at all until lively 294 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. modifications are obtained, and fantasy is itself different, accord- ingly as these modifications are different. That is the reason why a fantasy capable of great things in poetry may be quite powerless in music, in form and color, in architecture, etc. The exercise of the fantasy is impossible, unless the special mental modifications which it postulates have been produced in us by their appropriate objects. Every species of fantasy extends as far as there are modifications forth-coming to be combined in a novel manner, and it extends no further. The higher and more unusual activity of the imagination implies no other innate capacity on the part of the soul to which it belongs than a more than ordinary degree of receptivity on the part of its primitive forces. Given this unusual degree of re- ceptivity, all manifestations of fantasy may be perfectly explained by the law of the attraction of similars and by the laws regulating the genesis of consciousness. (Elements of Psychology, p. 215, etc.) 103. Complete or Partial Quiescence in the Soul — Sleep, Dreams. Since every sensation or perception, etc., formed by the soul requires, in order to appropriate its stimulant, a primitive force (which is thereby rendered incapable of forming a second sensation, etc., 30); since, moreover, in the constant alterna- tion of consciousness, the mobile elements become more and more closely attached to mental modifications, and are so ren- dered incapable of producing farther excitation, it follows that every day a time must come when both kinds of elements are reduced to a minimum. The body is equally subjected to a continuous loss of its powders ; for its protoplasm and tissues are constantly undergo- ing change by the ceaseless activity of its various parts as an organized entity. Every voluntary or involuntary motion of the muscles, the action of the different glands, the working of the entire nervous system, is attended by a continuous retro- grade metamorphosis, which inevitably and at certain periods must result in exhaustion and, consequently, in the necessity QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 295 for reparation, if the entire body shall be preserved from destruction. Now we know that all primitive forces, as living forces, strive for compensation whenever they have sustained a loss, producing in this way those conative modifications which we call desires. (See 25, 26.) This same truth applies to the corporeal forces. Their waste, too, calls for repair, and the necessity manifests itself in that active assimilation of new material from the pabulum which has been prepared for their use by digestion. In quite the same way as the primitive forces, by loss of a certain amount of acquired external stimuli, turn into desires for the same or a similar excitation (25, 26), the corporeal forces strive after compensation whenever they have sustained the loss of bodily elements incident to the con- tinuous retrograde metamorphosis of corporeal forces, during active life — and then ive fall asleep. Sleep, then, consists of the predominating process of the assimilating activity of the corporeal forces, which is periodically necessitated whenever the primitive forces, mental or corporeal, have become exhausted by the performance of a certain amount of work. This is the essential nature of sleep. We find, therefore, as Durham has shown (The Physiology of Sleep, by Arthur Durham ; George Hospital Reports, 3d series, Vol. VI., 1860, p. 149), a physiological correspondence of accumulation of blood in the stomach and other abdominal viscera, proving a greater activity of the assimilating system; for wherever there is increased activity there is a greater afflux of blood. This predominating activity of the assimilat- ing process subdues all other activities. Mentally, we become unconscious, partly from actual want of exciting elements which have been used up during the waking state, and partly from the withdrawal of mobile elements by the predominating in- fluence of the assimilating activity. We find, therefore (physio- logically corresponding), less blood in the brain, as has been demonstrated by Hammond, Durham and others. Bodily, our voluntary muscles subside into inactivity, and the work done by the excretory organs is lessened in amount. We find, therefore (physiologically corresponding), respiration as well as circulation decidedly slower during healthy sleep than during waking life. 29G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. All this is the necessary consequence of the heightened activity within the assimilating system. All our activities can never be excited at the same time and to the same extent. We see this portrayed in the action of our mental life. Even dur- ing our waking hours, consciousness (excitation) belongs only to a very small number of our mental modifications at the same time, and never covers the entire amount of our mental possessions. While modifications of one kind are roused, others are dormant, and when the dormant ones are re-excited, the former active ones sink into delitescence. This is so through- out our entire organization. So long as our mental activities are predominantly active, the bodily assimilating system is at comparative rest ; but when the supply of forces which it had accumulated has been reduced by constant use, its orig- inal conative tendency for assimilation is roused again in such strength as to preponderate over all other activities, and sub- dues them to comparative rest. How great the strength of the desire for sleep is, we have all experienced. Even with the greatest effort we cannot keep awake when our forces are thoroughly exhausted. Soldiers have been found asleep on horseback during night marches, and it is said that on the retreat to Corunna whole batallions of infantry slept while in rapid march. (Hammond on Sleep, p. 14, etc.) The restora- tion of vital forces must be accomplished, and during the pro- cess of restoration other activities must partially or totally cease. It is, therefore, erroneous to say that " the state of comparative repose which attends upon this condition (sleep) allows the balance to be restored " (Hammond). In fact, this restoration, or more definitely expressed, this assimilating process, does not permit the accustomed activity of the mind, brain and other organs. Unconsciousness, therefore, is only a concomitant of sleep, and not sleep's essential nature, just as the comparative rest in the voluntary muscles and excretory organs is the natural con- sequence of the heightened activity of the assimilating system. Where there is less activity there will always be a less amount of blood and a less active circulation. To say now that the loss of consciousness, total or partial, during sleep is due to QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 297 the lessened circulation of blood, which actually has been observed during sleep, is to confound cause and effect, and is another sample of the incorrect way of reasoning so fre- quently indulged in when preconceived ideas are allowed to " tyrannize over the understanding." On the contrary, the truth is, that the comparative inactivity of the mind (in conse- quence of the inactivity of the brain conditioning the mind's activity) causes a less amount of circulation, and this less- ened circulation occurs not only within the brain, but in all organs where there is less activity, while the greater activity of the assimilating process summons a larger amount of blood toward the corresponding active organs. It will not do to oppose this truth by reminding us of the fact that an artificial inter- ruption or suppression of the circulation within the cranium, by a compression of the carotids, will cause unconsciousness. We have not stated that the circulation of blood is not required for the healthy functional operations of the brain, nor that a healthy brain is not a necessary condition for the operations of the mind. A certain amount of healthy blood within the brain is a necessary condition for its successful operation. But is condition a cause f Still, if a certain amount of opium, chloral, carbonic oxide, etc., causes stupor (unconsciousness), why shall we not likewise consider the lessened circulation of blood in the brain during sleep as the cause of unconsciousness ? Because we would not thereby explain at all the lessened afflux of blood to the brain. It would be an effect without a cause. We would still have to ask: "What lessens the circulation in the brain during sleep ?" We have stated the cause. It is the reduced activity of the brain, in consequence of the heightened activity of the assimilating system. The unconsciousness (stupor), following the use of the remedial agents mentioned above, is the consequence of a vitiated state of the blood, the vitiation that fluid has undergone rendering it unfit to sustain the necessary conditions requisite for successful operations of the mind (robs the mind of the conditions necessary for healthy action), and therefore we may consider these poison- ous agents as a cause of unconsciousness. Corroborating the above statement, there is still another 20 298 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. observation concerning the predominating activity of the assimilating system during sleep, given by Baron von Reichen- bach in his " Untersuchungen uber die Dynamite des Magnetis- mns, etc." (Braunschweig, 2d. ed., 1850, Vol. I, p. 199). He found by numerous experiments that the emanation of "Od" from the sinciput commenced to augment in force with the early dawn of the day almost evenly until 10 or 11 o'clock at night, when it gradually took a backward course and continued steadily to decrease in energy until, at about 4 or 5 o'clock next morning, it had arrived at its minimum, at which time it again commenced rising as on the morning before. The emanation of "Od," however, from the occiput kept its lowest degree evenly on through the whole day until 6 o'clock in the evening, when it commenced to augment in force, and continued to increase until 3 or 4 o'clock next morning, from which time again it sank down gradually until it reached its minimum about 7 or 8 o'clock a. m. This shows clearly the alternating predominance between mental working (day's activity) and corporeal assimilation (night's activity) — sleep. It might be well for physiologists to ascertain whether an increase of blood in the cerebellum at that time would confirm these observations of Reichenbach. The approach of sleep is favored by everything which either depresses mental life (cuts off the supply of exciting elements, especially fatiguing mental toil, and also listless reverie, want of external excitement), or which gives increased impetus to the bodily act of assimilation, such as superabundance of food, hot drinks, great bodily exhaustion, loss of blood, etc., etc. Excessive cold does not produce sleep, but causes stupor, like excessive heat In both the cited cases the effect produced is congestion of the brain, which renders that organ unfit to suc- cessfully carry on mental operations. If, on the contrary, by excessive mental strain (as we find it frequently with business men, eager students, or after great trials, sorrow, anxiety, night-watching, etc.) the assimilating process has been unduly restricted for a great length of time, sleeplessness is the natural result. Mental, and consequently cerebral activities, so overbalance the process of appropriation, QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 299 that the assimilating system at last becomes weakened and, losing its conative force, leaves the work undone it is destined to do. Necessarily such a state must prove destructive to the entire organism, and cause an overwrought condition of the brain (relaxed and enlarged bloodvessels), while the mental activities gradually confine themselves to fixed ideas or uncon- trollable combinations, until at last only an insane wreck of a once well-balanced constitution remains. But there are also a number of bodily causes which induce sleeplessness. They may all be summarized under one general head : Anything that interferes with the process of assimilation. The number of disorders interfering with the process of assimilation is large, and it is not my purpose to give a pathological specification of them. Most fevers do it. Coffee and tea, among the daily used beverages, can cause sleeplessness. Both have been physi- ologically proved to retard the process of waste and repair (Stoffwechsel). During sleep, however, perfect quietude does not always prevail in the soul, as is proved by the occurrence of the phenomena of dreaming. As a rule the mobile elements which cause excitation are not entirely consumed when sleep overtakes us, as is clear from the fact that we remain awake for a longer period when any subject particularly interests or worries us ; while, on the other hand, we easily fall asleep (e. g., in reading) when the subject of the book is not very entertaining, or when our primitive forces are but slightly excited by external objects in a dark and quiet room. Among the mental modifications which have been excited during the day, there are some which were oftener present to consciousness and for considerably longer periods than oth- ers, because they related to objects important to us. Hence, when sleep overtakes us they maintain a greater nearness to consciousness than others, and stand, so to say, on the verge of consciousness, and only require a slight impulse to make them again start up, so far as that is possible, in sleep, while all the rest of our mental modifications remain unexcited. The mobile elements, even in their diminished numbers, are sufii- 300 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. cient to excite them, and thus we may explain why we so often continue in our dreams the occupations of the day. As at other times, the exciting elements may, by some exist- ing link of connection of earlier date, light upon and excite modifications of which we have not thought for a long time during our waking state. It is not at all wonderful that we then dream of things which were furthest from our waking thoughts. On the whole, most dreams remain obscure and indistinct processes, because our mental modifications, owing to the pau- city of exciting elements, only have some of their vestiges aroused. Hence, the consciousness of the ego is frequently absent in dreams. We do not become conscious that we are a totally different person from that which the cunning jugglery of dreams represents us to be. " In earlier days," says Dressier, "I have dreamt many a time, with anguish, that because of my ignorance I had been obliged to leave the University, return to school and begin anew. And yet it ought to have been very easy to scare this trouble away, if I had only said : ' You are the director of a teachers' college, and your real concrete self is totally different from that of a senior boy at a school.' This judgment, however, did not present itself to my con- sciousness, because the full and true notion of myself remained unexcited ; and it was necessarily unexcited, because the con- cept 'I' continued to sleep." There is nothing astonishing in the checkered confusion and extravagance which so often prevails in our dreams. Our men- tal modifications are connected in groups and series so com- prehensive and so extensive, that even in a waking condition they cannot be perfectly reproduced in their entirety. What must be the effect then, when, as is the case in sleep, the mobile elements are reduced in number, and the objective influence of external exciting stimuli, furnished by sight and hearing, is broken off? A group will be only partially excited, a series will be broken off when only half excited — it may be aroused by mobile elements at its beginning, presently at its end. How is it possible that the orderliness of w r aking consciousness — and only the clearly conscious can direct — should be pre- QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL SLEEP, DREAMS. 301 served ? It is possible also that such fragments may arise now in that series or group and then in another, and then there is no limit to the most extravagant confusion and combination of dreams. More order and more clearness is observable in dreams, when sleep, toward morning, has already produced such an abundance of fresh primitive forces, that external stimuli again find an easy reception; or when, shortly after falling asleep, there are still so many unexpended forces at hand, that the same effect may be produced without actually causing us to awake. At such times it is possible to suggest dreams to a sleeper. He may hear the sounds of an iEolian harp placed near the window, and be excited by it to visions of wondrous beauty; or may, as in the case mentioned in Du Prel's 'Philo- sophic der Mystik, p. 34, where, by allowing a few drops of water to fall upon the sleeper's lips, he would dream of swim- ming and execute actual swimming motions, and so on. For the production of such effects, of course, a peculiar sensitivity to external stimuli is a necessity. The receptivity of the higher senses falls to a minimum in the middle of the night. Sleep then is really sleep, id est, pre- dominating activity of the assimilating system. Dreams then bear frequently the character of the lower, animal senses, as the higher and more abstract modifications are generally but im- perfectly, or not at all, conscious in dreams, and therefore not able to correct or drive away false and immoral ideas, a fact expressed in the saying, " Conscience is asleep during dreams." Plato observed long ago that "good men permit themselves to do in dreams, and in dreams only, what bad men do when awake." Here also belongs the common expression, "I never even dreamt of such a thing." Consequently, dreams prove nothing for or against a man's moral character. If we fall asleep with a heart oppressed by care and anxiety, we need not wonder that w T e are visited by perturbed and painful dreams, for that which is out of tune can produce no pleasurable emotions. If we go to bed with an overloaded stomach, or if we lie in a position which prevents the free circulation of the blood in any part of the body, if we expe- 302 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. rience any pressure or pain anywhere, these unpleasant sensa- tions will awaken what is allied to them in the soul, and dis- gusting or painful dreams will be the consequence. Even in sleep the law prevails that the similar attracts and excites the similar. That so long as the dream lasts we take our fancies for reali- ties, is quite natural. The realities which surround us are, in fact, blocked out, because the senses are closed, and as they no longer operate on external objects, any comparison between the external and the internal is impossible ; and if, when awake, we even fancy falsely, as every one knows we do, with- out perceiving our error, we need not wonder that our dream- ing fancies are not recognized as erroneous. That which is only obscurely conscious cannot possibly be corrected and brought into true light by the unconscious. It is only when fundamental modifications of our soul, sensorial perceptions, are brought into activity, that excitations can be compared with real objects, and thus be corrected if they should run astray in wild flight. Rational mental activity is always characterized by its strict correspondence to the real objects ; it is objectively true. Mere fancies are excluded by the exercise of the senses. During sleep the senses are closed, and fancies may reign supremely without the possibility of correction. There is still an important question to be answered : Why do we recollect some dreams and not others f Recollection, as we have seen in 102, is a continued process of becoming conscious. It starts from some main or leading mental modification and proceeds so far that the modifications of the circumstances, time, place, etc., under which we have formed that modification also become conscious with it, and is brought again into connection with a part of our former life. Recollection presupposes, therefore, a state of the mind thor- oughly similar to that in which the original modification (or group or series of modifications) was formed. It is, in fact, the renewal in consciousness of a part of our actual past life. Now, dreaming takes place during sleep, and sleep consists essentially in the predominant activity of the assimilating process. All mental evolutions, therefore, which take place QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL SLEEP, DREAMS. 303 during sleep are closely interwoven with this state of the body. In fact, they develop upon it as their very basis. It is the means by which the different mental modifications arise, are held together and are made one whole — a dream. Take away this basis, and you withdraw at once the connecting medium which binds the single items of the dream together ; without it they fall asunder, they lose their excitation, and all vanish like a dissolving view. A restoration of the same would be possible only if the self-same conditions under which the dream existed could be restored. With this restoration we would then dream the same dream over again, as often happens. Now, this change of state actually takes place when we sud- denly wake, because the predominant activity of the assimi- lating process is interrupted by the aroused activity of the higher senses. What during sleep has been the exciting and connecting means, no longer retains its excitation, and, conse- quently, w T hat we have dreamt we have forgotten. Somewhat similar instances of forgetting we frequently meet in cases of fever, mania, melancholy, somnambulism, magnetic sleep, drunkenness, etc. The same law governs the several conditions, and that law is : What has been excited into consciousness dur- ing, and by means of, a certain state of mind and body, loses its excitation, " falls to pieces,'' " cannot be recollected," when this particular complex of mental and bodily conditions gives way to an entirely different state of mind and body. But, then, how is it that we can recollect some dreams quite accurately ? If we observe closely, we will find that dreams we remember take place, usually, either at the commencement of sleep, or toward morning, when we gradually emerge from sound sleep into wakefulness. In both cases the opposite state is not entered completely at once. There is a continuous chain from the one to the other (by slight and gradual differences in the activity of the assimilating process and the activity of the senses), by means of which a connection is preserved between both opposite states, so that that which takes place in the one is carried over into the other. The awakening, in such a case, is not an abrupt change of the basis upon which the dream has been 304 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. enacted. It is merely a gradual transition of one state into the other, and thus the dream (that is, those modifications which were aroused during sleep) is continued through this chain of imperceptible changes into the state of waking consciousness — we recollect the dream. But where the change of base is ab- rupt and absolute, there is no recollection of the dream. These points I may lay down as applicable to all usual dreams. There are on record, however, some remarkable and strange dreams, the truthful narration of which cannot be doubted, unless we also flippantly deny any other record that does not suit our present fancies. These particular dreams deserve closer attention than a mere denial and assertion that they are "humbugs," "super- stitions." While such things do not fit in commonplace skulls, in the thinking man they incite the suspicion that there may be something in special dreams transcending the capacity of the know-alls. We first meet dreams undoubtedly ex- cited by some sudden external stimuli, which dreams, never- theless, tell a long and strange tale, although the external cause of the dream and the awakening occur almost at the same moment. Examples may explain. I take from Du Prel's Philosophie der Mystik, p. 83, the following : " Gamier, in his Traite des Facultes de rAme, tells of Napoleon the First, who was asleep in his carriage when an infernal machine exploded under it. This sudden report excited in him a long dream, as if he were with his army on a transit over the Tagliamento, where he was received by the cannon of the Austrians, so that in suddenly jumping up and awaking, he cried out: "We are undermined ! " Bichers cites the dream of a man who was suddenly awak- ened by the report of a gun near by. He dreamt, in that moment, that he had become a soldier, had gone through un- told miseries, had deserted, had been caught again, tried, con- demned and shot. Steffens relates the following : I slept with my brother in one bed. In dreaming, I found myself in a narrow street, chased by a wild and strange beast. I could not call for help, and ran along the street. The animal came nearer and nearer. QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 305 p At last T reached a pair of stairs, and, exhausted from anguish and exertion, could not run any further. The beast got hold of me and bit me painfully in the side. This awakened me. It was my brother who had pinched me in the side." There are many more dreams on record, characterized by this same remarkable feature : The exciting cause, the dream, and the awakening occur nearly simultaneously. In such dreams a long series of events appear to transpire, which events correspond to, and finally culminate in, a catastrophe that turns out to be the cause of the dream, and also the cause of the awakening. Surety this is a peculiar combination; an ex- citing cause bringing forth an apparently preceding series of events, which culminates in an effect which, in reality, is the cause of it ; and all in an instant, because the exciting cause is also the cause of the awakening. How is this phenomenon to be explained ? In the first place, the supposition that the soul is capable of having but one thing in consciousness at a time is a falsity. We have spoken of this point in 98 and 99. We found that one single impression may cause, in an instant, the excitation of hundreds of mental modifications, even to such an extent that a great part of our life may turn in an eye-twinkling into consciousness, and pass in review before us. If we experience this in the midst of our waking life, why should it not occur in our sleep, and even in more fanciful ways, as the higher and controlling senses are shut off from the external realities of our environ- ment? The exciting cause will surely propel such modifica- tions into consciousness which are most similar and most inti- mately connected with it; therefore the same exciting cause would effect in different persons quite different dreams. The explosion of a bomb caused in Napoleon the instantaneous ex- citation into consciousness of a battle-field, and the thought of the springing of a mine. In the other man the report of a gun excited the modifications of a soldier's life, which, perhaps, never had been a pleasurable contemplation to him. The pinching in the side, by his brother, excited in the third case the modifications of being chased and bitten by an animal ; while in another the same cause might have provoked the 30G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. dream of a duel. The complications are unfathomable, because the combinations between man's mental modifications reach not only the accountable, but also the unaccountable. The preceding of the dream is merely apparent because it is instan- taneous with the exciting cause, and its clearness, composition and apparent length depend entirely upon the pre-existing strength, combination and number of mental modifications which, according to their similarity and connection, can, just by such an external excitation (cause), be roused into con- sciousness. The effect (dream) is, therefore, in each kind of dream, not before the exciting cause, but follows instantane- ously. Neither need there be a teleological contrivance in the nature of dreams, which manages to harmonize its contents with the exciting cause at the moment of awakening; nor need there be a clairvoyance of the soul, which, in its transcend- ental state, forsees the exciting cause and arranges the con- tents of the dream according to the following cause ; nor is it a mere chance that exists between the harmony of the exciting cause and the contents of the dream (compare Du Prel's Philosophie der Mystik, p. 91) ; but it is the natural excitation of mental modifications into consciousness, grounded upon unalterable laws, of which we have spoken above. There is another kind of dreams which announce a coming disease. Again I refer to Du Prel's Philosophie der Mystik; p. 164: " Galen tells us of a man who dreamt that one of his legs had become a stone, and a few days afterward the leg became paralyzed. "Macario dreamt of having a severe sore throat, of which, on getting awake, he felt nothing ; but a few hours afterward a severe tonsillitis developed itself. "Teste, minister under Louis Philippe, dreamt that he was struck with apoplexy, which, indeed, a few days afterward took place. " Arnold de Villanova dreamt that a black cat bit him on the foot. On the following day a cancerous ulcer made its appear- ance in the same spot. " Konrad Gessner dreamt that he had been bitten by a viper, QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 307 and a few days afterward a plague-boil developed on his chest, of which he died. " Krauss several times made the observation that dreams of operations on his teeth were the forerunners of violent tooth- ache ; and that dreams of bites of tigers or snakes foretold him the place on his body where, soon after, sores would break out. " The French physician, Virey, made the observation that dreams of red colors frequently preceded active hemorrhages, or dreams of inundations were the forerunners of succeeding lymphatic exudations, or dreams of conflagrations pronounced coming internal inflammations. " Carus refers to a man with a disposition to sudden fits of spasm of the chest, who regularly dreamt, before these attacks, that he was chased and bitten by cats ; while another dreamt of bulls coming toward him before severe spells of headache." Hahnemann, the founder of Homoeopathy, was aw T are of the importance of dreams in relation to disease, nearly a hundred years ago ; and in proving remedies on the healthy he laid as much stress on dreams, when they occurred during a proving, as on any other symptom caused by the drug ; and his real followers take notice of these " small voices of nature " up to this very day, in the treatment of diseased states of the body. Dreams, indeed, frequently announce a coming disorder, when for our ordinary perception it is yet imperceptible. We must not forget that even during sleep our entire being is not at rest. The assimilating, reconstructing process is then in its ascendancy and most vigorous activity. Where this process is not going on normally the hitch is felt, and arouses correspond- ing dream-visions, which, during the usual state of waking are rendered insensible and drowned in the predominating activity of the higher senses. These gentle admonitions, these first symptoms of a threatening disorder, never announce themselves in the concept-form of waking life, but are only capable of arousing into consciousness mental modifications similar to their nature — dream-visions; they express themselves figuratively. Such, prophetic dreams of coming disease are, therefore, not more wonderful than other dreams. Their origin is conditioned 308 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. by the slight irritation an abnormal or mal-assimilation produces in the human organism, and thus causes an excita- tion of similar modifications, i. c, dream-visions, during the stillness of the night and the quietude of stronger mental forms. This process goes still further when the dream reveals to us the remedy that will cure tJte disorder. Again I shall cite cases I find in the very interesting work of Du Prel, "Die Philosophie der Mystik," p. 229 : " Bourdois, of the Medical Academy in Paris, narrates the following case: A man, during an attack of cholera, com- menced to talk deliriously, and Bourdois thought he heard the patient pronounce the word 'peach.' Regarding this as an in- stinctive desire of the patient, he at once ordered that such fruit be given to him. The patient ate it with great eagerness and wanted more. He ate some thirty peaches that night, and was well the next day. "Melanchthon was affected with a very painful inflammation of the eyes, which would not yield to any remedy. Then he dreamt that his physician prescribed for him euphrasia, by the application of which remedy he recovered. " An English colonel was stricken down with fever. During a sleepless night he had the vision of a venerable man, who told him to go to the yard toward the dawn of day and wash in cold water, to dry himself well and go to bed again. The colonel followed this advice and recovered." It is especially the arousing of conations, developed into consciousness by the want of certain stimuli, such as we daily find manifesting themselves in the form of hunger and thirst when the stomach needs a fresh supply of food, or in disease in the form of cravings for particular things. We must not forget that even the lowest senses, which have their substratum in the sympathetic nervous system (compare 72), develop into consciousness in the three different forms as the modifications of the higher senses do ; namely, as sensations (perceptions), conations and feelings. If, now, in disease a particular stimulus be wanting, and the desire for it be roused into consciousness, it is roused even more easily in a dreaming state, when other and stronger mental modifications are silent INTERNAL SENSES — INNER PERCEPTION. 309 and the excitations of the higher senses are sliut off. A more complicated subject are dreams in which the dreamer prescribes for others, and also those in which future things have been revealed. AVe must, however, defer the consideration of this subject until we come to speak of somnambulism and similar states of the human soul. 104. Consciousness of Psychological Processes which Depends on Special Concepts. — Internal Senses, Inner Perception, Self-Consciousness. Experience teaches universally that children do not know at first their own psychical acts, though nothing is nearer to them. Indeed, there are grown-up people enough, of whom the same may be asserted to a great extent. Their knowledge of what exists and goes on in the outer world is clear enough, but their own inner life and processes remain obscure to them and, in a great measure, totally unknown. There is, however, nothing in this fact of experience which ought to astonish us. All perceptions consist of modified primitive forces by corresponding external stimuli, that is, of subjective and objective elements, and one might suppose that the soul would at first perceive the subjective as a part of its own ; but it will be proved presently that such a perception requires concepts which can only arise at a later period. All souls, without exception, begin to develop by receiving external impressions, and thus form sensations and perceptions of the objects of the external world. These perceptions give birth to concepts, and the production of concepts presup- poses (as was explained in 15) that the internal mobile ele- ments awaken, along with the present sensation, the similar vestiges already acquired. Now, if sensations are sensa- tions only because the objective — the stimuli — occupy the larger share of consciousness, what must happen ? The mobile elements are more abundantly shed over the objective element; it attracts them with overwhelming force, and consequently the stimulant side in these psychical modifications is, and must be, more vividly conscious than the side of the primitive^ forces. 310 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. From this it follows that subjective concepts, those which spring purely from the peculiar nature of the primitive forces, can- not at first come into existence at all. It is only w r hen, as development proceeds, we become, as it were, sated with stimuli, that these forms can be excited more strongly on the side of the primitive forces than on the other, and then only can that side be separately presented in consciousness. Notwithstanding, as objective concepts begin to be formed, consciousness is partially diverted toward the subjective side. Consider the following : The concept " stone," for example, contains less objectivity than the perception of an individual stone, for the former merely contains the similar constituent parts of the perceptions of stones from w T hich it was formed. The like is true of the concepts man, mountain, house, field, forest, etc., as contrasted with the perceptions of particular men, mountains, etc. In order to produce such concepts the soul necessarily exhibits greater independence and activity than is required to merely form perceptions, and by producing them it gets continually nearer to a concept of the subject. That the difference between such concepts and perceptions is, at first, but little noticed, is natural, since they are, as it were, concealed by the vivid con- sciousness of the w 7 ords by which they are designated, and also because w r e are obliged to give the same names to perceptions and to their corresponding concepts (see 16). The effect of these two circumstances is that concepts ripen into clearness slowly, and therefore we only arrive very gradually at a con- sciousness of the parts contained in our perceptions. We rise most effectually above mere sensory perceptions and, therefore, above the purely objective, by means of simple con- cepts which w T e gain gradually, i. e. f by those which involve only one mark or attribute, e. g., round, smooth, pointed, long, thin, little, etc. The perceptions from which these are gathered could never give rise to them at all if they w r ere all present to conscious- ness in their totality, only a fraction of them must be present. Take, for instance, the concept pointed. The objects from the preception of which this concept w T as abstracted, w T ere and are INTERNAL SENSES INNER PERCEPTION. 311 much more than "pointed," they had and have a length, thickness, weight, color; the material of which they consist is hard, or soft, etc. All these qualities contained in the things themselves are also contained in our perceptions of them, and yet, in order to yield us the concept "pointed," all the qualities except the " point " must disappear from view. The mobile ele- ments which render the concept conscious must be concentrated solely on one, viz., " pointed," otherwise that simple concept could never be formed. Hence we find that in order to form concepts, our perceptions are not always reproduced side by side in their entirety, but mere fragments and fractions of them are presented to consciousness. The concept " perception " springs from a number of per- ceptions reproduced together and almost undivided, and the concepts "man, house, tree," etc., likewise ; but the concepts "over, there, out of, from, to, by," etc., since they are strictly simple concepts, can be produced by single fragments and fractions of perceptions. That this may and does happen is natural, because the mobile elements ebb away from points just now excited in the same quantity in which they are dif- fused over other points, or, it may be, over some single one. In such cases the perceptions are excited as regards a minimum of their contents (their primitive forces and stimulants), and the question arises whether the whole stimulant may not re- main unconscious, so that the relative primitive forces, from having the whole of the mobile elements concentrated on them, would alone be conscious, to the total exclusion, from con- sciousness, of the object. This process actually occurs in the formation of many concepts. Take the concept " to seeP It lies entirely in the sphere of the sensory forces ; but what it is that is seen, what the stimu- lants are, it does not indicate ; it presents a mere elementary act of the soul. Nor is the case different with the concepts "to hear, touch, taste, smell and feel." Under such circumstances we find the perceptions of the visible, audible, etc., brought before consciousness only on the subjective side, the side of the primitive forces. The stimuli are at best faintly indi- cated, and, as a rule, are completely excluded from conscious- 312 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. ness. Since seeing, hearing, etc., are the first acts of a child's soul, it is not to be wondered at that the concepts of the same arise very early, although at first they are somewhat obscure, being produced by perceptions as yet poor in vestiges. More- over, seeing, hearing, etc., are acts which cannot be confounded so easily, and hence the psychical facts lying at the bottom of them cannot be well confounded either. Each primitive force always proclaims its specific character. In a similar manner all concepts of the subjective are produced, and they may gradually rise to a clearness as great as that possessed by per- ceptions of external objects, indeed, to greater clearness, for the spring and source of consciousness lies in the primitive forces rather than in external stimuli. To instance one or two more examples : Take the concept 11 to desire or repel." It is not the stimuli, but the primitive forces directed to the stimuli, that desire and repel. This subjective community of quality coalesces when such concepts are formed, as soon as different desires and repulsions are repro- duced together, and the objective side becomes unconscious. The same takes place in the formation of the concepts "to feel (feeling), to judge (judgment), to infer (inference), to think (thought), to will (will)," etc. On a still higher level stand those concepts of the subjective which we call the clearness, vivacity, tenacity, obscurity, etc., of the soul's acts; for the production of these concepts requires that the primitive forces therein contained should only partially come into conscious- ness as a single distinguishing characteristic. Observe that there are actually in the soul vestiges which, to a certain extent, are again divested of their stimuli ; for con- cepts representing the subjective are composed of such vestiges. Moreover, these concepts are formed precisely as those of exter- nal objects (15), and their gradation is exactly similar (16). For instance, so soon as the concepts "perception, concept, feeling," etc., are produced, the points common to them all may coalesce and form the higher concept, " mental modification." The only thing peculiar to these concepts is that they are harder to form than the others, because, at first, the objective presses too strongly forward, and because our mental processes INTERNAL SENSES — INNER PERCEPTION. 313 are not so permanent and fixed as are external objects affecting us. They, therefore, presuppose a careful attention to what passes within us, and what occurs there is of itself more or less conscious ; they presuppose that we take the trouble to bring simultaneously before consciousness what is allied. These general conditions for the formation of all concepts cannot be rigidly fulfilled in the present case, and that is the main reason why they are so difficult. But if we once succeed in our attempt, future success will be assured and easier, and then concepts of the subjective arise as surely and certainly as those derived from external objects. We know, from 17, the fact that (as well as the reason why) concepts are decidedly clearer notions than the perceptions which lie at the base of them, or than lower concepts. That which, ipse facto, involves consciousness (let us call such consciousness attributive or adjective) is strengthened and enlightened by the homogeneous concept added to it, exactly in proportion to the quantity of light possessed by that con- cept. Thus, for example, I have the concept "recollection." It will enable me clearly to recognize my particular acts of recollection (which, by their own consciousness, I should dis- tinguish from each other, or from similar acts, imperfectly or not at all), the moment I excite that concept into conscious- ness along with those acts (which excitation, for the most part, occurs spontaneously in accordance with the law of mutual attraction of similars). It is thus that the judgments arise: " this mental process is a recollection," " this a feeling," " this a desire," " this an act of the will," etc. Although we do not enunciate these judgments, we make them, and generally with such rapidity that there is no time to express them. In such cases, then, we have what may be called substantive (inde- pendently produced) consciousness (i. e., the concept) besides the adjectival consciousness (the concrete act). The latter kind is apprehended or apperceived by the former. It is, as it were, per- ceived through a magnifying glass. Hence it follows that it becomes an object as regards the concept apprehending it. The latter is like an internal eye apprehending this psychical ob- 21 314 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. ject; it is the percipient power of it, and hence we call such concepts internal senses. We thus prove that 1. The internal senses (powers percipient of the mental and spiritual) are nothing more than those concepts which relate to the qualities, forms and relationships of the psychical act, and by which we first properly apprehend and perceive the interior of our soul. 2. It cannot be said that we have only one internal sense. On the contrary, the senses are as numerous as the concepts we have ac- quired, in which the peculiarities of the psychical have been elaborated into any special form of consciousness. The old assumption that the internal sense is one and innate, is false. Hence, what we call internal perception, or inner sense, is the result of a special kind of consciousness formed in relation to our psychical acts, and out of them. If after this special consciousness has been formed, it remains unexcited because too much of the concrete is excited, then the activities of our soul proceed unperceived by us. This is especially the case when they are performed with great rapidity. The above-mentioned concepts are called the consciousness of the acts of the soul, in order to distinguish them from the proper or adjectival consciousness implied by, or rather con- tained in, our concrete psychical acts ; and inasmuch as these mental acts constitute our very self, we may properly call the consciousness of the same self -consciousness. Its acquisition, no doubt, causes some trouble at first, but that trouble is abundantly repaid. The concepts by which we apprehend our psychical actions lead to a kind of knowledge which ex- tends far beyond the truth and certainty of knowledge acquired through the senses. The senses merely perceive external things as they seem to be, that is, as our senses are capable of being affected by them, and if we had other senses, we should ap- prehend those things as possessing different qualities than we now apprehend in them. What things are in themselves, no sense can reveal to us ; for every sense stamps its own character on its stimuli, and it is natural that the products of external objects are, for the most part, totally different from their fac- tors. (Compare 40.) In the case of inner perception, however, ON THE EGO. 315 what perceives (the concept) and what is perceived (the indi- vidual act or process) are completely alike so far as their subjective constituents go ; it is the same psychical modification f but multiplied, which, in the form of a concept, sheds its con- centrated consciousness upon the present single act. Notion and being are here absolutely coincident. The concrete act — the being — is not in any way altered or changed by the addition of its corresponding concept or notion. It receives nothing (except a greater amount of clearness of consciousness) but that which is already within it. Hence, in all psychical products, the factors producing them are preserved unchanged, for even the impresses of the external stimuli continue to exist in the concepts, judgments, acts of will, etc., in exactly the same manner in which they originally molded the primitive forces. Consequently, inner perception, or self-consciousness, furnishes us with a knowledge adequate to its objects, or which is fully and absolutely true — the highest knowledge to which man can attain. (Compare Beneke's work, "Die neue Psycho- logies pp. 54 and 99.) (From the Elements of Psychology, p. 221 and following.) 105. On the Ego. The treasures of a carefully developed soul are prodigious. The soul not only possesses innumerable single modifi- cations, but the acts and processes which take place within it are also infinitely numerous. Take the case of a man who is thoroughly acquainted with three, or even more, civilized languages, and who is, besides, a mathematician, a natural philosopher, a botanist, etc. He must know many thousands of words, which words imply the knowledge of thousands of notions constituting the meaning of the terms. Yet there is not a sign of confusion in all this marvelous com- plexity, a complexity existing without any local separation, without any local limitations. What is it that mainly creates and preserves this order ? The law of the attraction of like to like. Without this law there would be chaos. Now, of all that originates and takes place in the soul, this one 316 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. feature is common to all : The moment it arises it belongs to this soul, whether it take its origin in the faculties of seeing, hearing, touch, taste, smell or feeling (vital senses)-; for all sensory faculties, together with the products springing from them, form one intimately connected whole or being. They are the soul. Consequently, the fact that they all belong to one and the same soul, or subject, will gradually shape itself into a special consciousness, i. e., a concept will arise, having for its content this one peculiarity : The belonging of all mental modifications and processes to one and the same soul. What is this concept called ? Before answering the question we must say a word or two more about what is called self-perception. In perceiving and representing ourselves, four kinds of things may be concerned, which ought not to be confounded. We think either : 1. Of the whole man, consisting of soul and body, as when one says, I live, I dwell, at Leipzig; or, we think: 2. Exclusively of the soul ; as when we say, I increase in knowledge, I am immortal ; or, we think : 3. Mainly of acquired permanent qualities, by which we are distinguished both from others and from that which changes in ourselves, as when a man says, I am a musician, I am an astronomer ; or, we mean : 4. Merely those activities of the soul which are, for the moment, the strongest in consciousness, as when we say, I am glad, I am angry. In all these cases it is not a concept that is directly con- cerned, but a perceptions; for when self is expressed, as it is in the above examples, it is not as a something universal and general, but as a something particular and concrete. Now, it would sound odd if a man were always to use his own name when speaking of himself. Civilized speech requires the pronoun " I " in such cases, and not Mr. So and So. It is a substitute for the name when speaking of the speaker. It, therefore, marks a definite person, either completely or par- tially. Children at first always use their own name, although they have heard the pronoun " I " a thousand times from the ON THE EGO. 317 mouths of their parents. How is this fact to be explained ? Why do they always say : Charlie wants his dinner, Mary wants to play, and not I want my dinner, I want to play ? It cannot possibly have arisen from a defective vocabulary; it must have a deeper cause. In early childhood the concept "I" is obviously not present. Children's perception of self must be imperfect, for they do not yet know that they have a soul, and it is only the most obtrusive internal processes that are pre- sented to their consciousness. Being as yet completely the slaves of sensation, the only clear notion they have of them- selves is that of their bodies. Their inner selves are too unsteady as yet to become conscious, and that inner self exists, for the most part, in an obscure condition. In general, chil- dren regard themselves to-day as quite different from what they were yesterday, because to-day different groups of mental modifications are excited, and hence their emotions are dif- ferent. It can hardly have struck them yet, that everything in them belongs to one subject, to one and the same person ; but at length, toward the beginning of their third year, this unity begins to be presented clearly to consciousness, and then they cease to talk about Charlie, Mary, etc., and use the term " I." They have at length discovered in themselves the unity (not the identity) of that which perceives and of that which is perceived — that is to say, the connection of these two is one thing, and this fact they express by the concept "I," which results from their discovery. The concept " I " grows, therefore, out of many acts of self-perception. Perception of self must precede this concept, and the quicker the latter is produced, the quicker does the concept " I " come into existence. Moreover (as is equally clear), this concept remains con- stantly the same as to its contents, while the perception of self necessarily changes as the soul unfolds. We must, therefore, distinguish carefully bet ween self-perception, which consists of many concrete perceptions of ourselves, and the ego or I, which is a strictly simple concept, and, being one of the highest we possess, regularly attends the acts of self-perception. Accordingly, the concept of the ego, or I, is characterized as the union of all the perceptions which we make of ourselves. They 318 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. all (those which perceive as well as those which are perceived) agree in this one particular: they all belong to one and the same being , constitute one and the same person — a unification which equally attaches to all other mental modifications, and which, there- fore, is gradually raised into consciousness, so that the belonging of all conscious modifications and processes to one and the same soul is stamped and expressed in the concept "I" It now hardly requires explanation why this concept obtains such strength and such a readiness to start into consciousness (in these respects it transcends all other mental modifications). At every step in the development of the soul it is increased by one vestige, since whatever passes in that soul proclaims itself as belonging to it. Moreover, it is clear that this particular concept never can attain to any sufficient completeness in the souls of brutes, be- cause their primitive forces lack in retentive power, and con- sequently animals are not even capable of forming a clear perception of self. Experience shows that complete idiots are unable to develop this extremely derivative and complex kind of consciousness, nor does the word " I " ever supply the miss- ing concept. It also shows how little the healthy human soul is destined to the sphere of animal propensities, since a child of two years old is able to abstract out of its as yet imperfect perceptions of self a concept which belongs to the highest sphere of mental development. Notwithstanding the great strength and the great nearness to consciousness which this concept in the course of mental development gradually attains, it nevertheless remains unex- cited on some occasions. For instance, when we are deeply absorbed in contemplating an object, and the exciting elements concentrate entirely upon those mental modifications which are the object of our thoughts, we are apt to forget ourselves entirely, to forget that it is we who are thinking and calculat- ing. Likewise the consciousness of the ego is notably absent in some dreams, where lively modifications are excited into consciousness by the law of similars, without a full excita- tion of the concept of the ego, so that we then are represented as somebody else, or only in part as ourselves. The same REASON AND RATIONALITY, OR CAPACITY FOR REASON. 319 happens frequently in somnambulism, of which we shall have to speak more fully in a later part of this work. (From the Elements of Psychology, p. 228, etc.) 106. Reason and Rationality, or Capacity for Reason. The external world contains nothing but objects and their activities. These two produce effects upon us so soon as we are born, and continue to do so as long as we live. Now, if we had in our souls nothing but modifications exactly correspond- ing to the things and effects thus produced, there would be nothing to astonish us in the phenomena of our psychical life. But we find within ourselves modifications of which the ex- ternal world offers only faint counterparts, and others to which the external world offers no counterpart whatever. To in- stance only a few : The external world (with the exception of man and brutes) has no perceptions, no concepts, no judg- ments, no inferences, no efforts like those of men, therefore no desires, no repugnancies, no will, no estimation of good and evil, no conscience, no morality, no religion. In short, the external world has none of those higher objects which rest upon man's transcendental ideas. That which the external world does not possess, it can never give. If it be objected that, at any rate, there are teachers capable of infusing all this into us, it may be answered that such a statement is worth- less ; for teachers, when all is said and done, can give us noth- ing but words (which differ in every language) and sense im- pressions like those produced by lifeless objects, and all these words and sense impressions are far from being the modifica- tions which we possess, and, what is more, consciously possess. Are the words or other effects produced by a man, so soon as they have left him, self-conscious elements, by which he trans- mits consciousness to us ? If so, a forest must have conscious- ness when it re-echoes to me my name, and the snail must forthwith know what I mean when I tell it to get out of the way. No! Self-consciousness lies only in the souls of men, and cannot travel out of them. The external world excites us, it is true, but excites us by elements in themselves spiritually 320 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. and mentally dead. It is impossible by these external ele- ments to vivify the dead. That these elements create life, mental life in us, is a consequence solely of the primitive forces and laws innate in us, which primitive forces, however, at our birth, are widely different from the products afterward de- veloped from them. How are these products brought into existence ? The present treatise has striven to thoroughly and systematically answer this question, and, we hope, not with- out success. If any one, after mature consideration, does not find our explanations satisfactory, we must leave him to his own devices. Suffice it to say that the primitive forces are originally sentient only ; but by excitation and education they become consciously perceptive, attentive, understanding, judging, desidera- tive, averse, willing, feeling, etc. They thus attain to forms of development which are purely their own work, and rise above all that merely affects the senses or is material. They win an independence and freedom of the external world. The ex- ternal world is compelled to submit to the dictates of the mind so far as it is possible for human power to control nature. Everything thus developed normally in us, we call collectively by the title reason; that which deviates from it we call un- reasonable or contrary to reason. It is, however, the higher pro- ducts of our souls only that lie far removed from the region of the senses, and that we dignify by the name of rational. Hence, reason is and consists of the sum total of our highest faultlessly developed psychical modifications in all forms — in the form of concepts, conation, feeling, remembrance, attention, fancy, aesthetic creations, moral and religious feelings and actions, etc. Take the superstitious man, for example. He is justly stigmatized as " irrational," because he denies the truth of the higher concepts of cause and effect rigidly deduced from care- fully observed connections and reciprocal actions of things. In like manner he flies in the face of reason, who renders him- self a slave to excess, especially to the baser pleasures. Those desires and aversions alone which harmonize with the true gradation of good and evil (in other words, with their real REASON AND RATIONALITY, OR CAPACITY FOR REASON. 321 value), deserve to be called rational. " Morally good " is an- other name for the same thing. Now it is self-evident that reason, thus understood, can- not be a single, innate power. So long as our original, simple sensations have not been worked up into higher and more complex forms, have not been elaborated in accordance with the laws of the soul, so long must reason be totally absent. Even supposing such higher forms have been acquired in cer- tain relations, a man must, nevertheless, be wanting in reason in all others where such have not yet been obtained. For in- stance, a person may be very rational in mathematics and des- titute of reason in music, and he who has a good deal of reason in matters of chemistry does not, on that account, have it also in philosophy, etc. Hence it logically follows, further, that reason is certainly not equal in all men. Eeason must differ in men accord- ingly as a favorable education has produced the higher modi- fications in one with more perfection than it has in another. Compare, in this respect, an educated man, from any civilized nation, with an Esquimaux or Hottentot chief who is reckoned among his countrymen as a man of superior knowledge. The difference between the two in the comparison is certainly obvious. This difference may be produced by two totally different causes. It may be that the innate tenacity or energy of the primitive forces is greater in the one than in the other, or it may be because the one lives under circumstances more favor- able to development than the other. Of course, the spontaneous activity of the soul must in itself produce higher forms out of lower ones, and yet the influences exercised by good teaching, by a suitable form of polity, by trade and intercourse, etc., must greatly assist in producing these results. All civilized nations are proud of their educational institutions because they are the means of promoting the development of the mind. Education enables us to stand on the shoulders of past ages. The Esquimaux, etc., if destitute of sufficient retentive power in his primitive forces, would not, even in the best schools, attain to a high degree of rational development. For the 322 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. same reason we see scholars in one and the same class, and of the same age, attain to very different grades of mental development. In considering this subject in its various aspects we arrive perpetually at the same solution, and that solution is, that it is the innate energy of the primitive forces upon which alone depends the development not merely of the higher and highest mental modifications (the reason), but it also determines the de- gree to which that development can be carried. In the soul, as elsewhere, nothing valuable can be made out of that which is weak. Since, however, all healthy human souls, as com- pared with the souls of brutes, are endowed with greater energy, we may call this quality of the primitive forces potential reason, or a capacity for reason. Hence is it that reason is in- nate so far as that energy exists. We must, therefore, carefully distinguish the developed reason — reason proper — from innate reason. The latter is only the germ — the ability to become rational. It is identical with what we in a former passage called the mental or spiritual part of man's soul, and may be called its natural rationality. This property, however, of the primitive forces of man, is found mainly in the higher senses, in those of sight, hearing and touch, these being the chief sources of the human reason (8). If one or the other of these senses be wanting from birth, the absence of that sense necessarily makes a great difference in the development of the mind. It is a fact of experience, however, that persons born blind are not so backward, in point of intellectual development, as those who are born deaf. The reason is that the man born deaf cannot participate in the great advantages offered by verbal speech. He who can hear another speak is able to acquire the whole sum of mental treasures which thousands before and contemporaneously with him have gained. In like manner he is able — a matter of no less importance — to retain, with far greater perfection, groups and series of psychical modifications, by connecting them with words and sentences, than if the modifications were left to themselves, in which case they would soon fall asunder. If the latter happens, it becomes impossible to sublimate the INSTINCT. 323 lower modifications into higher ones. Such, as a rule, is the case with those born deaf. The person born blind, moreover, can supply a good deal which the want of sight deprives him of, by reason of the sense of touch, as well as by other senses ; for, although the peculiarity of what is colored is unknown, the real and objective part of things is not unknown. Those unfortunates who are born both blind and deaf can only by the sense of touch acquire some mental development, and that development, of course, must necessarily be very limited. Eationality or reason, therefore, does not reside in a special power, as it were, in a corner of the human soul, from which it forces its way and gradually ennobles the remaining faculties. The very faculties we call senses are primitive forces capable of being molded by external impressions (5), and are at the same time spiritual and rational. There are in the human soul no primitive forces destitute of all rationality. Hence an infant's very first acts of sight, hearing, etc., are totalty different from those of a brute, and (be it well observed) even such acts of sensation are very early manifested in children in a manner quite differently from that observed in the case of the lower animals. The mentality of these acts peeps through at a very early period. Therefore, the mind and rationality of man is not a thing apart from his soul. It is the property of his primitive forces, leading to consciousness and to products unlike any evolved in a brute. These products, taken together, constitute the mind, in the narrow sense of that word, and hence the devel- oped reason, or reason proper. (From Elements of Psychology, p. 232, etc.). This subject, which is merely sketched in this paragraph, will be found thoroughly discussed in an essay by Dressier, "Das Wesen und die Bildung der menschlichen Vernunft" in Diesterweg's " Padagogischen Jahrbuche auf 1864." 107. Instinct. The consideration of the highest forms of intellectual and moral soul-development naturally leads to a consideration 324 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. of the other end of the sentient plane, where reason is entirely- absent, and yet work of intelligence is done even more perfectly in some instances than the highest understanding could devise. For this intelligent work, done without instruc- tion or practice, we use the word instinct. Instinct is derived from the Latin word instinguere, to instigate, to incite, mean- ing that there is an impulse of some kind which excites action for a certain purpose, of which purpose the individual, however, knows nothing. It is, according to Whately, "a blind tendency to some mode of action," or according to Sir Wm. Hamilton, " an agent which performs blindly and ignorantly a work of intelligence and knowledge." Do such statements tell us what that agent is, or from whence that "blind tendency" is derived? Even Charles Darwin avoids an answer by saying : " Every one understands what is meant when it is said that instinct impels the cuckoo to migrate and to lay her eggs in other birds' nests." (Origin of Species, 6th edit., p. 205.) The word instinct, then, is merely used as a convenient expression for a general idea of something which is remarkable, but cannot be further explained. From the standpoint of psychological research we cannot acquiesce in mere word-definitions. We must try to find out the nature, the essence, of this mysterious " agent " and " blind tendency." It lies not in the way of Darwin's re- searches to hunt after psychical causes. He wanted to demonstrate the physical or rather mechanical causes of the changes and evolutions in the physical word. However, physical (material) agents are not the only agencies that move the world. We shall speak of this fact more explicitly in 110. At present we will confine ourselves to the explanation of a "blind tendency." We have already shown in 89, by many examples, that there are unconscious sensations in man, as well as in animals. A sensation must be devoid of consciousness so long as it is defi- cient in a necessary number of vestiges, and will ever remain more or less so, if the primitive forces lack by nature a sufficient degree of energy (compare 9, 10) ; but this latter fact does not prevent the sensation from being set in motion by correspond- INSTINCT. 325 ing external stimuli. This is seen clearly in the manifestations known as (so-called) reflex actions. An external stimulus causes sometimes a whole series of movements, all conformable to a certain purpose (89). This is a hint toward the direction in which we must search further for a solution of the question. The lowest senses (vital senses), which have their substratum in the sympathetic nervous system, develop consciousness in the lowest degree ; but sensations of this nervous system may, nevertheless, at times attain to an intensity which gives them actual preponderance over higher mental modifications (72). In the case of animals, in which the cerebro-spinal system only by slow degrees in the scale of creation attains to a comparative preponderance over the sympathetic system, the latter system must necessarily exercise a still greater influence upon the life-action of the animal. In such as have no cerebro-spinal system this life-action must be determined entirely by the ganglionic system, and, naturally, in a self-unconscious way. If we add to this a greater sensitivity of these lower senses toward the influence of surrounding nature, the impressions from which are forthwith converted into action, we may say that we are coming nearer and nearer to the solution of the question : Whence is this " blind tendency " derived ? We must, how- ever, bear in mind, that the lowest, the faintest degree of psy- chical development, is nevertheless ruled by the same psychical laws in both man and animal. External stimuli acting upon sentient forces will always produce sensations and conations, and in all shades of consciousness, from the yet unconscious to the clearest mental modifications, according to the greater or less degree of perfection with which the corresponding organ- ism is endowed. Reason, rationality, is attainable only by man through a long series of experiences, while the " blind tendency" is the ruling agent of animal life. "The animal is, indeed, only an organ of external nature." This is the more so the lower the animal is in the scale of creation, where the ganglionic system is not only the predomi- nating, but the only recipient and reactive means between its organism and the external world. Rising higher and higher in the animal scale, we find that a kind of conscious reflection 32G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. intermingles with this "blind tendency," by which meagre con- scious reflection, however, the animal is oftener misled in its undertakings than when alone led by its "blind tendency" or instinct. " It is instinct," says Dr. Joh. Mich. Leupoldt, in an excellent article in the Archiv fur den thierischen Magnetismus (1820, v. Eschenmayer, Kieser, and Nees v. Esenbeck, Vol., VII, 2d part, p. 72), " when some kind of shell-muscle, e.g., the mytilus edal., fastens itself by an artificial web to other objects ; when the spider prepares a net as its artful hunting-ground ; when the bee builds her cells, and the ants construct their dwellings at the right time, in the most suitable place and in the most expedient manner ; when the mole, the musk-rat, the beaver, and other animals, fit out their habitations in a manner which suggests ripe calculation as to the choice of location, construc- tion, building material and the warding off of danger. It is instinct when the weather-fish, the spider, the tree-frog, and some birds, give notice by some unmistakable signs of a coming change in the weather, often a day before it occurs, or forbode in summer the character of the coming winter, or vice versa, or sense, weeks before its coming, an impending earthquake or volcanic eruption. It is instinct when the sick animal in the wilderness finds and chooses the curative remedy ; when the migratory bird chooses the right time to leave his home for another region, and again returns at the proper time. " All these performances are the same everywhere and at all times. The hive-bee makes her cells in the same way to-day as she did thousands of years ago. The young insect, scarcely escaped from the shell, senses changes of the weather. Born in summer, the animal provides for the coming winter, which it never experienced before. All this proves that what we ascribe to instinct cannot possibly be traced back to a point where they were produced by previous experiences, nor to a conscious application of ends and means for certain actions. The nature of the more perfect classes of animals become the more prone to mistakes in their undertakings, the more they acquire, by training or otherwise, a kind of capability to compare and to choose ; while the lower animals, devoid of such psychic development, take an immediate part in the rhythmical processes of external nature w T hich stand in the most intimate relation to their existence. This necessitates on the side of the animal creation a specific receptive and a specific reactive capacity toward the stimuli of the external world; and that such capacities exist is proved by the fact that INSTINCT. 327 light affects the eyes, sound the ears; that one animal seeks one kind of food and another another kind, and under different conditions of its organic states prefers this or that kind. There is no reaction without a reception of stimuli, and again there stand, sd long as life runs on normally, stimulus and reaction, both in quantity and in quality, in direct proportion to each other ; the latter, however, only in such animal organi- zations w r hich are incapable of any free self-determination ; and only of such can we speak where w T e want to find out the nature of instinct. " We must, however, consider yet the greater and lesser re- ceptivity (sensitivity) and its greater or lesser extensity. Here- in lies the main point: First, we remark that in the sphere of organic beings to whom instinct is attributed, the cosmic in- fluences are the most potent of all. What we understand commonly by cosmic influences are products of the reciprocal action between earth, moon and sun; and again, many facts show that influences directly from the sun correspond espe- cially to the cerebral influences, from the moon to the spinal, and terrestrial influences to the abdominal nervous system. As now in those animals in which instinct only is found the abdominal nervous system is well developed (and in many even that not fully), while the spinal and cerebral are yet in an imperfect state or entirely wanting, it is clear that the greatest power over them must be exercised by terrestrial influences. These influences relate, in the main, to the habitation, self-sus- tenance in general, and nutrition of the individual in parti- cular, and the propagation of the species. " Now, as regards the greater or less receptivity, it is un- doubtedly true that the higher a being is individualized, the less does its whole life take immediate part in cosmic pro- cesses ; the more it is connected with the same only by special organs, the more predominant is its relation only to higher influences. Man has at best only in a large cicatrix, or otherwise depotentized part of his body, a weather-prophet. Woman has naturally more intuitive power, and her menstrual periods show her subjection to the immediate control of nature. The clearer the self-consciousness, the stronger the self-determination in a healthy man, the more independent is his life against all physical influences ; while, on the con- trary, a decrease in this oneness of his being in consciousness makes him more susceptible to these cosmic influences. " The same is true as regards the descending scale of animal organization. The reason is here still more evident. For the lower the individualization of a being, the greater is the homo- 328 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. geneity of its body (even as regards its material) with the earth as a whole; the more similar the beings, the more intimate is their reciprocal relation, i. e. t the more delicate is the recep- tivity of the one for the influences of the other. As more per- fect organisms have special organs (sense-organs) for varied influences necessary to their life, and as they bring the percep- tions of these influences in relation to the totality of their lives, so do, in lower organizations, the different influences concen- trate in one common or radical sense, and act there with imme- diate determination upon that organization ; i. e., they produce there a necessary reaction, or coerce it to certain actions. "As, furthermore, every process in living nature runs its course steadily and uninterruptedly, beginning slowly and faintly until it reaches its height, and then passes off again as slowly, it is clear that an organization with a delicate recep- tivity for such changes will perceive this change already in its first stages, while another organization, less receptive, will not notice it until it is at its height. What does this mean ? It means that some organizations sense early changes in nature, which changes, to others under the same conditions, still lie in the future. For instance, a weak and delicate person may feel the approach of a thunderstorm early in the morning, when the sky is still clear and serene, while a stronger frame would not feel anything of its coming until it is nearly at hand, late in the afternoon or evening. " What, in the case cited, is a seeming anticipation of time, is also applicable to space. The finer ear hears not only a sound in near proximity clearer and more perfectly than a duller ear, but perceives a sound from a distance, wmich for the latter does not exist at all. There is, then, for a finer receptive organization, a sensing of actual processes at a dis- tance, in time as well as in space, which a duller receptivity perceives only at the moment of their greatest influence, and in loco where they take place. If, now, cosmic, and espe- cially terrestrial, influences are sensed by organic beings to whom we cannot properly attribute consciousness, and who are used by external nature as mere organs, it follows that the relations of space and time measure themselves on and through the same, and that their actions may appear to man divinatory." To this exposition of the nature of instinct by Dr. Leupoldt, it will also be well to add w T hat has been said later, from a purely physiological basis, in explanation of instinct. The best views I know of are advanced by Prof. Ewald Hering and INSTINCT. 329 Mr. Samuel Butler. The latter has translated Hering's lecture on this subject, and inserted it in his book on " Unconscious Memory," p. 97 (London, 1880). Professor Hering starts from the proposition " that we owe to memory almost all that we either have or are ; that our ideas and conceptions are its work, and that our every per- ception, thought and movement is derived from this source. Memory collects the countless phenomena of our existence into a single whole, and as our bodies would be scattered into the dust of their component atoms if they were not held together by the attraction of matter, so our consciousness would be broken up into as many fragments as we had lived seconds but for the binding and unifying force of memory " (p. 115). Further: " We have ample evidence of the fact that characteristics of an organism may descend to offspring which the organism did not inherit, but which it acquired owing to the special circumstances under which it lived; and that, in consequence, every organism imparts to the germ that issues from it a small heritage of acquisition which it has added during its own lifetime to the gross inheritance of its race " (p. 118). '• When an action, through long habit or continual practice, has become so much a second nature to an organization that its effects will penetrate, though ever so faintly, into the germ that lies within it ; and when this last comes to find itself in a new sphere, to extend itself, and to develop into a new creature (the individual parts of which are still always the creature itself and flesh of its flesh, so that what is reproduced is the same being as that in company with which the germ once lived, and of which it was once actually a part) — all this is as wonderful as when a gray-haired man remembers the events of his own childhood ; but it is not more so " (p. 123). "But if the substance of the germ can reproduce character- istics acquired by the parent during its single life, how much more will it be able to reproduce those that were con- genital to the parent, and which have happened through countless generations to the organized matter of which the germ of to-day is a fragment? We cannot wonder that action already taken on innumerable past occasions by organized matter, is more deeply impressed upon the recollection of the germ to which it gives rise than action taken once only during a single lifetime. We must bear in mind that every organized being now in existence represents the last link of an incon- ceivably long series of organisms, which come down in a direct 22 330 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. line of descent, and of which each has inherited a part of the acquired characteristics of its predecessor" (p. 124). ''An organized being, therefore, stands before us as a product of the unconscious memory of organized matter, which, ever increasing and ever dividing itself, ever assimilating new matter and returning it in changed shape to the inorganic world, ever receiving some new thing into its memory, and transmitting its acquisitions by way of reproduction, grows continually richer and richer the longer it lives" (p. 125). " The memory of organized substance displays itself in the case of a chicken in the most surprising fashion. The gentle stimulus of light proceeding from the grain that effects the retina of the chicken, gives occasion for the reproduction of a many-linked chain of sensations, perceptions and emotions, which were never yet brought together in the case of the in- dividual before us. We are accustomed to regard these sur- prising performances of animals as manifestations of what we call instinct, and the mysticism of natural philosophy has ever shown a predilection for this theme ; but if we regard instinct as the outcome of the memory or reproductive power of organized substance, and if we ascribe a memory to the race, as we already ascribe it to the individual, then instinct be- comes at once intelligible, and the physiologist at the same time finds a point of contact which will bring it into con- nection with the great series of facts indicated above as pheno- mena of the reproductive faculty. Here, then, we have a physical explanation which has not, indeed, been given yet, but the time for which appears to be rapidly approaching. " When, in accordance with its instinct, the caterpillar be- comes a chrysalis, or the bird builds its nest, or the bee its cell, these creatures act consciously, and not as blind machines. They know how to vary their proceedings within certain limits in conformity with altered circumstances, and they are thus liable to make mistakes. They feel pleasure when their work advances, and pain if it is hindered ; they learn by the ex- perience thus acquired, and build on a second occasion better than on the first ; but that even in the outset they hit so readily upon the most judicious way of achieving their purpose, and that their movements adapt themselves so admirably and automatically to the end they have in view — surely this is owing to the inherited acquisitions of the memory of their nerve-substance, which requires but a touch and it will fall at once to the most appropriate kind of activity, thinking always, and directly, of whatever it is that may be wanted " (p. 128). " He who marvels at the skill with which the spider weaves INSTINCT. 331 her web should bear in mind that she did not learn her art all of a sudden, but that innumerable generations of spiders acquired it toilsomely and step by step — this being about all that, as a general rule, they did acquire. Man took to bows and arrows if his nets failed him — the spider starved. Thus we see the body and — what most concerns us — the whole nervous system of the new-born animal constructed before- hand, and, as it were, ready attuned for intercourse with the outside world in which it is about to play its part, by means of its tendency to respond to external stimuli in the same manner as it has often heretofore responded in the persons of its an- cestors" (p. 129). Mr. Samuel Butler advances the same ideas some years later, and although entirely independently of Prof. Hering, yet so remarkably conforming to the same, that he says in his book on " Unconscious Memory " p. 82, where he gives an intro- duction to Prof. Hering's lecture : " Concerning the identity of the main idea put forward in ' Life and Habit ' [another most interesting work of the same author — Ed.] with that of Prof. Hering's lecture, there can hardly, I think, be two opinions." I need, therefore, not quote specially from " Life and Habit." Comparing these two views on the nature of instinct, we find that Dr. Leupoldt lays the main stress on the intimate relation of the creature with, and its dependence upon, surrounding nature, of which it is, so to say, a mere organ, and therefore fitted out with corresponding receptivities for her most delicate influences. This describes, no doubt, a most important agent in the phenomena of instinct, but does not explain the readi- ness with which instinctive action can be so perfectly per- formed without any previous experience, as is shown, for instance, in the case of the chicken and other animals, when they exhibit at once actions, and complicated actions at that, as if they had been accustomed to perform them for a long time. Now here Hering and Butler step in and say : " Indeed, they have been accustomed to all these actions, and for count- less generations, when they, as parts and portions of their an- cestors, were practicing these arts which astonish us now. For in the germ from which they evolved lay all these arts as un- 332 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. conscious memory, and this memory not only shapes and builds their bodies with fitting organs, but which also knows how to use these organs as of old for specific actions, whenever external stimuli excite the same into corresponding vibrations." We cannot but admit that this view would solve the occult nature of instinct, if a " specific kind of material constitution" as Hering says, were an adequate explanation of psychic action and development, whether conscious or unconscious. The simile which Professor Hering uses in order to make his as- sumption of a "specific kind of material constitution " plausible, is neither convincing nor satisfactory, for it fails to bridge over the gap that exists between material and psychic development. He says : " The curves and surfaces which the mathematician conceives, or finds conceivable, are more varied and infinite than the forms of animal life. Let us suppose an infinitely small segment to be taken from every possible curve; each one of these will appear as like every other as one germ is to another, yet the whole of every curve lies dormant, as it were, in each of them, and if the mathematician chooses to develop it, it will take the path indicated by the elements of each seg- ment" (p. 121). This is true as far as it relates to curves ; but each segment, if developed, will produce only a curve and nothing else, nothing that is absolutely different and sui generis from the segment, in a sense as psychic modifications (conscious or unconscious) differ from nerve-cells and external stimuli. We have spoken of this difference already in the physiological part of this work, and shall speak of it again in 110. A spe- cific kind of material constitution might explain a specific kind of material development ; but it falls far short of the mark when applied to psychical development, simply because no amount of " an infinitely small change of position on the part of a point, or in the relation of the parts of a segment' of a curve to one another," nor, as we might add, any combination or shift- ing of material atoms or molecules, will ever produce anything like a sensation or perception, etc. The two are not commen- surable. Psychic development requires different kinds of forces, in which the development into conscious modifications INSTINCT. 333 is just as inherent as the development into space-occupying formations is inherent in all material forces. Where both kinds of forces are united we find vital manifestations, a shaping, molding and handling of the material forces to purposive ends. In the psychic forces lies the potentiality for purposive action. Without them life is an enigma. But the psychic forces, although sensed and believed in for ages, have, through the influence of modern materialism, fallen entirely into disrepute. As these psychic forces had been called, in con- tradistinction to the material forces, " immaterial" what fur- ther testimony was required for their utter rejection? They could not be anything, as there existed, so it was taught, nothing besides matter. Rather than believe the determining cause of the ulterior development of the germ an imma- terial something — that is, according to the materialistic view, a nothing — they preferred " a specific kind of material consti- tution." And what is that? Well, a specific kind of material constitution. And now everybody thinks he knows all about it. It is just a specific kind of material constitution. That's all. But do we fare any better with the assumption of " psychic forces ? " What are they f To commence with their most pro- nounced manifestations in man, they are the primitive forces of sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste and feeling in all the variations of the vital senses (72-77). In the higher animals they are the same (except in quality of retentive power, which makes man a spiritual being) ; in the lower to the lowest animals the psychical forces manifest themselves in various kinds of sensibility. In plants we call these forces irritability, while, if we wish to trace them still further, we may recognize them in the inorganic world as chemical affinities. Are all these forces nothings, because they cannot be weighed and bottled? Are they nothing, because they have been called immaterial for the sake of contradistinction to forces that can ( be weighed and grasped? What w T ould all the material forces be without these imponderable forces, in spite of their specific kind of constitution? Or, rather, what does this specific kind of material constitution mean, if it is not psychic forces united to material forces. This is another bugbear for the material- 334 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. istic mind. How can an immaterial something be combined with matter and affect it? Because the " immaterial something " is a real substantial something, as real as any piece of substan- tial matter with which you can break the thickest skull, and it combines in all possible variations with all kinds of material forces, and molds them into the different varieties of things that exist, for it alone possesses the potentiality for purposive action. But where does it come from, and where is it? Where does matter come from, and where is it? May not the one be as eternal and omnipresent as the other ? Instinctive action may be traced through all nature. The air consists of just four-fifths of nitrogen, one-fifth of oxygen, and a trace of carbon dioxide, and this proportion is constant all over the earth. Water is invariably a chemical combination of two volumes of hydrogen and one volume of oxygen. All chemical affinities have con- stant relations. We may well declare that the reason of these peculiarities is " a specific kind of material constitution," because we do not know any better w r hat concerns the real nature of matter or material forces. But dare we say that we thereby explain the ultimate reason of these combinations and relations ? Might not these material forces just as well be combined with still finer forces, forces that do not lie in the range of our senses, and yet be the moving cause of all the changes in the material world ? Or, if this is more palatable, might not material forces themselves ultimately consist of such " immaterial " forces and be a mere expression of the latter ? Might not, therefore, instinct commence in the inorganic world, and chemical affinity and gravitation really be instinctive ac- tions of the so-called material forces? When we further consider the instinctive actions in all forms of life — the vegetable as well as the animal — our faith in " a specific kind of material constitution " is still more shaken. Everywhere we meet nothing but the 65 or 70 ele- mentary bodies combined, not only in the inorganic, but also in the organic world, into countless varieties of more or less stable forms. This number of elements might explain well enough the make-up of the numerous inorganic bodies, by vari- ous combinations, in the same way as the millions of words of the INSTINCT. 335 different languages are the result of the various combinations of a limited number of sounds and letters. However, in the organic world we meet a difficulty which cannot be ex- plained by mere mechanical atomic juxtapositions and motions of the different elementary bodies; namely, growth, irrita- bility and sensibility ; in short, life phenomena. With the first manifestation of vital action, action other than that arising from known elementary forces (bodies), a new explanation is de- manded to account for life phenomena. (Compare 110.) Psychi- cal forces although unperceivable to the senses, are no less realities than the material forces. What are psychical forces? As stated above, they are those imponderable (immaterial) forces that in the vegetable kingdom constitute growth; that is, a pur- posive selection of material forces and their molding, chang- ing and combining to specific living forms, with irritability approaching in many species to sensibility. Still more glaringly these " immaterial " forces manifest themselves in the animal kingdom, where they gradually ap- pear from the lower vital forces up to sight as differentiated sen- sibilities. No amount of shifting and combining material atoms will ever (not even in billions of years) produce anything like sensibility and consequent consciousness, without the action of those " immaterial " forces which alone possess the potentiality for conscious development. We have called these immaterial forces primitive forces of the soul. Here we arrive at the point where we must divest our minds of the ambiguity in which the terms "memory" and "consciousness" have constantly been used. Prof. Hering says : " Memory collects the countless phe- nomena of our existence into a single whole; and as our bodies would be scattered into the dust of their component atoms if they were not held together by the attraction of mat- ter, so our consciousness would be broken up into as many fragments as we had lived seconds, but for the binding and unifying force of memory." Here memory is objectified as a binding and unifying force, which it is not. What we call memory is not a particular power which does this or that. It is simply the continuance of primitive forces as modified by oob COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. external or internal stimuli in an unconscious or latent state (102). The memory does not " collect the countless phenomena of our existence into a single whole ; " but the countless phe- nomena of our existence continue to exist as modified primitive forces — as vestiges — and make up the unconscious, latent treas- ure of our soul or our memory. Our consciousness would not " be broken up into as many fragments as we had lived seconds but for the binding and unifying force of memory." No, not at all ; but we would never come to any kind of consciousness without the endurance of the primitive forces as modified by corresponding stimuli. The term "memory" has become so thoroughly amalgamated with the term " consciousness," that in common parlance " remembering," " having a memory of," " being conscious of," have become synonymous terms. However, consciousness and memory are two entirely different things. While "memory," as above stated, merely signifies the continuance of the primitive forces as modified by corres- ponding stimuli (external or internal) in an unconscious, latent state, "consciousness," on the other hand, has four dis- tinctly different meanings : 1. The consciousness which is the opposite of consciousness not yet existing (97). 2. The excita- tion of unconscious mental modifications (98). 3. The con- sciousness of psychical processes, which depends on special concepts, so-called internal senses, introspection, self-conscious- ness (104). 4. The consciousness of the ego (105). We know not only this, but also that consciousness in its first sense, as opposite to consciousness not yet existing, devel- ops in various degrees or intensities from sight down to the vital senses in man, and from the highest gifted to the lowest animal ; and that all the modifications of the primitive forces, no matter in what degree of consciousness they have developed, appear throughout either in the form of perception (sensation), conation or feeling, and are alike governed by the same laws of psychic activity, as has been explained in the three first parts of this work, to which of necessity I can here merely refer. Thus animals form perceptions, conations and feelings as we do, and the combinations and excitations of these psychic INSTINCT. 337 modifications are governed by the same laws as ours ; but the difference between the psychic modifications of animals and man lies in the degree of consciousness in its first sense, because the primitive forces of animals, even of their best developed senses, lack the retentive power which is so characteristic of man's higher senses. Animals undoubtedly do acquire in- tellectual" forms of psychic modifications — analogues to our concepts and inferring capabilities ; they undoubtedly show conative forms in all the varieties of their spheres; they un- doubtedly manifest many of the emotions and feelings similar to those of men; and yet they remain animals and never attain to human capacity. The difference does not lie in the kind of sensibilities, but in the quality of their primitive forces to endure distinctly in the specifically modified state which external or internal stimuli have wrought in them, or as Ben eke has it, in the "Kraftigkeit der TJrvermbgen." Now, then, we will be better able to review what Professor Hering says: "When, in accordance with its instinct, the caterpillar becomes a chrysalis, or the bird builds its nest, or the bee its cell, these creatures act consciously and not as blind machines. They know how to vary their proceedings within certain limits in conformity with altered circumstances, and they are thus liable to make mistakes. They feel pleasure when their work advances, and pain if it is hindered. They learn by experience thus acquired, and build on a second occasion better than on the first." All this is true in a certain sense. These creatures do act " consciously and not as blind machines." It all depends on what we understand by "acting consciously." It is not a consciousness of their psychic activity (104), but merely an excitation of specifically modified vestiges, which are capable of being set into motion by corresponding stimuli, and which must have been acquired by, and trans- ferred from, generation to generation. The entire process of their action, therefore, rolls off unconsciously or unbeknown to themselves, yet strictly according to psychical laws. Con- sciousness we can ascribe to these instinctive actions of animals only in its first and second meaning (97 and 98), and this, too, only in a degree of intensity and clearness as the primitive 338 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. psychic forces of animals are capable of. If we wanted to make comparisons, we might liken these conscious activities to the sensations and actions of a new-born child when it com- mences to breathe, to suck, to cry, etc. (see 89, on reflex action), or to our own involuntary actions, which likewise to a great extent ensue unbeknown to ourselves, or even to the uncon- scious rolling off of whole chains of mental modifications during the highest and most complicated mental activities, w T hich we call the " tact," " dexterity ," "productive action" of our soul (100). After these psychological considerations we necessarily arrive at the conclusion that Prof. Hering's physiological ex- planation of instinct is not adequate to its pretension. We want more than a mere " specific kind of material constitution." Instinct is so obviously of a psychical nature, that a specific kind of material constitution no more affords an explanation than a specific kind of material constitution of the brain, and the whole nervous system will ever explain mental activities in all their forms of development. Material constitution and psychic development are clearly two things not commen- surable. Instinct, as a psychic activity, pre-supposes primiti \ r e psychic forces just as necessarily as the make-up of material forms pre- supposes material forces or so-called material elements. The primitive psychic forces manifest themselves as sensibilities, differentiating gradually, as the being rises in the scale of organisms, to organic senses. The lowest grades of sensibilities develop but low grades of consciousness in its first sense (97), and none at all in the sense of introspection (104), so that the excitation of its modifications rolls off unbeknown to the individual. This excitation, however, follows the same laws as the most intensely conscious mental modifications, and pro- duces, therefore, the same purposive effect as do mental modifi- cations of the highest grade of consciousness. The animal acts, then, as if guided by deliberation to a purpose without being really conscious of it. But as the animal has not had the opportunity of gathering any experience in this line, we must admit with Professor Hering, " that as the animal even INSTINCT. 339 in the outset of its career hits so readily upon the most judicious way of achieving its purpose, it is owing to the inherited ac- quisitions of its memory " (though not of its nerve substance, but of its inherited psychical nature, i. e., its sensibilities), " which require but a touch and they will fall at once to the most appropriate kind of activity." That this must be so is proven by the fact that each animal during its development shapes and molds its own body for specific purposes, which pur- pose lies in its psychical nature as an inherited prototype from its ancestors. As this psychic being, by new conditions, may either become more perfect or deteriorate, one can easily understand why some animals, especially under domestication, acquire in the course of generations certain traits which they had not before, or lose traits which they owned in former generations ; or, as Darwin has it : " Under domestication instincts have been acquired and natural instincts have been lost." (Origin of Species, p. 211.) We come thus to the con- clusion : Both reason and instinct have their root in the psychical part of organized nature; reason in the energy or retentive power of the higher senses; instinct in the great sensitivity of the vital senses to terrestrial influences. Reason elevates the individual over nature, makes him to a certain degree her master. Instinct coerces the otherwise helpless individual to self-saving actions, makes it a readily respond- ing organ of external nature. The cause of both is their psychical nature, a nature widely different from so-called matter. It is the shaping, organizing, ruling principle in nature, which escapes all attempts to bring it before the sen- sorial organs, and without which even the ingenious explana- tion of Darwin of the origin of species lacks a real foundation. His causes of variability, his principles of natural selection, etc., clamor constantly for a deeper agency to account for their existence and action than mere external conditions, and Dar- win himself says: "The nature of the organism seems to be much more important as a cause of variation than the nature of conditions " (Origin of Species, p. 6). What is that nature ? 340 complementary inquiries. 108. Varied Combinations of the Qualities of the Primi- tive Forces. — Temperaments. We are already acquainted with the innate qualities of the primitive forces. (See 5, 7, 8, and 14.) If we consider their natural relations in general, we find that the retentive power or energy in all healthy souls is greater in the higher, less in the lower senses (8). Sensitiveness is sometimes greater in one system of primitive forces, sometimes in another (5); and quickness seems to be in the highest degree peculiar to hearing (14), that is, speaking generally. In comparing individual men we find these qualities very variously combined. Take the faculties of sight, for instance. We may find them in one man a. In a high degree retentive, sensitive, and vivid as well ; or, while very retentive, they may be but moderately sensitive and vivid ; or, they may join a high degree of retentive power with only small sensitiveness and vividness. Moreover, they may be b. Only moderately retentive and in a high degree sensitive and vivid ; or, but poorly retentive and highly sensitive and lively; or, c. They may have a low degree of tenacity combined with little sensitiveness and vividness. In short, these combinations are innumerable, since every degree of retentive power, from the highest to the lowest, may be supposed to be combined, and may really be found in com- bination with every degree of sensitiveness and liveliness. Equally different may be the combinations as respects hear- ing, touching, tasting, smelling and the vital senses. When one reflects that in the above examples we have specified only three different degrees (high, moderate and low), whereas, in fact, an endless number of degrees and gradations are to be found, it is easy to infer how infinitely various and infinitely numerous the combinations of these qualities of our primitive forces may be. In reality we do not find two men who are exactly alike in these respects. We have several times pointed out the influence exercised by these combinations on the evolution of the human soul. TEMPERAMENTS. 341 Thus we find, generally, that a higher degree of retentive power produces greater strength and clearness in the psychical modi- fications (7, 10, 54, 55, 65) ; more sensitiveness gives them greater richness, complexity and delicacy (5, 10, 51); greater vivacity causes quicker apprehension, elaboration and consciousness of the impressions (14, 21). Consequently, where a man is en- dowed with these three qualities in a high degree, it naturally follows that very favorable relations are offered for the devel- opment of his soul. Possibly we might call such a texture of soul " a choleric temperament." It often happens that one quality so predominates over the rest as to prove anything but an advantage. We find men, for instance, who combine a low degree of sensitiveness and vividness with a high degree of energy. It is evident that they will be wanting in those products which result from an equally high sensitiveness and vividness. Such a man may, indeed, develop such modifications as are produced in him in great clearness and strength, yet they can never attain to great var- iety, to great multiplicity and subtility, nor can he apprehend them quickly, or elaborate them, or bring them rapidly into consciousness ; for great tenacity joined to defective vivacity cause these psychical acts to be performed with too much slow- ness. This kind of disposition is commonly designated by the term " phlegma" A totally different effect is produced when the vivacity of man's primitive forces greatly predominates over their energy and sensitiveness. In such a case we find impressions quickly apprehended, elaborated and rendered conscious; but the retention of them after they have ceased to operate, a firm and deeply-rooted hold on them, great clearness and strength, as well as the abundance, multiplicity and delicacy of mental modifications, is absent. We find such men quickly take up any subject. They throw themselves into anything heartily, but they are not steadfast in their efforts, not deep in their feelings, and but superficial as to their knowledge. We may, perhaps, venture to place them in the class of " sanguine" It is different again when sensitiveness greatly prevails over the other qualities of our primitive forces. In such a case, 342 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. since the soul, from its want of energy, is unable to attain to strength and clearness, overexcitation (compare 3G) must easily take place, and being likewise defective in vivacity, this cannot soon pass away, but remains longer in consciousness, and thus a foundation is laid for defective mental modifica- tions of all kinds, such as fear, irritableness, selfishness, ill- temper, etc. Possibly such a disposition may be termed the "melancholic" The mode, therefore, in which these several qualities are combined at birth, exercises a most important influence on our mental development, so important, that as these relations vary the whole psychical condition must be of a different stamp. Hence it is that no two men, even if their external conditions are completely similar, can possibly exhibit exactly the same results in their development. Although directly after the birth of a child these different modes of combination are scarcely perceptible, still their constant and progressive influence confirms the old truth that "great effects spring from little causes." The whole constitution of the soul, arising from the innate differences between the several qualities of the primi- tive forces and their combinations, is called a man's "temperament." If we are now convinced that the various degrees and modes in which these qualities may be combined are infinitely nu- merous, we may declare that the various " temperaments " are equally numerous and complex, and that the old-fashioned attempt to divide all men in this respect into four classes (the choleric, sanguinic, melancholic and phlegmatic) cannot possi- bly lead to any valuable results. Moreover, instead of deducing these temperaments from the constitution of the soul itself, the attempt was made, and erroneously made, to explain them by peculiar qualities of the blood and other fluids. It is true enough that the bodily constitution as a whole, the different primitive forces of which have in different men different de- grees of energy, vivacity and susceptibility, exercises no con- temptible influence on temperament; but the vital senses, which make the bodily constitution, belong likewise to the psychical nature of man, and thus it is the psychical nature, after all, that decides the temperament. FORCE AND MATTER. 343 It must be allowed that this division into four classes, when nothing more than a rough outline is required, occasionally enables us to hit off the characteristics of individual men ex- cellently well; but it is useless for scientific purposes. For scientific purposes special, not general, peculiarities are all- important, whereas in a thousand persons you can scarcely find two who exactly resemble each other in point of tem- perament. The natural and complete similarity of all men, so often asserted to exist, is, accordingly, a palpable fiction. Even at their birth there are no two human beings alike, whether in body or in mind. How can they, then, afterward become alike, when innate dissimilarities are constantly multiplied in the accumulative process of psychical modifications during the course of development ? In this varied combination of the different qualities of the innate forces in all sentient beings lies the causa vera of natural variation and selection. (From The Elements of Psychology, p. 237, etc.) 109. Force and Matter. " Force is that which is spent in the origination of motion, and what is thus expended is equivalent to its product, i. e.,to the amount of motion produced" (J. R. Mayer, Die Mechanik der Wdrme, p. 265.) It is often the case that in speaking of force the product (motion) is mistaken for force. In this way we speak of light, heat, electricity, magnetism, chemical action, attraction, gravi- tation, etc., as " physical forces." This is obviously wrong. Light is no force, but a certain undulatory motion of the ether. Whence is this motion derived? From combustion for one thing. What is combustion ? " A clashing of minute particles of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen as they rush together." These are the things spent in the origination of motion, and they, therefore, are in reality the forces which, in this instance, produce the undulatory motion of the ether known as the phenomenon of light. Associated with these luminous vibra- tions of the ether are heat-rays, which are non-visual Even as 344 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. early as 1800 it was discovered by Sir Wm. Herschel that the temperature corresponding to each color of the solar spectrum augmented from violet to red, and actually increased to some distance in the dark space beyond it. Thus it was proved that the sun emitted, beside the luminous rays, also heat-rays, which are not visible to the eye. On the other extreme of the color spectrum, beyond the violet, there are other kinds of invisible rays, which, however, instead of producing heat, cause chemical decomposition of certain compound substances, as is shown in the decomposition of carbonic acid in the leaves of plants, and in the phenomena of photography. These latter are called actinic or chemical rays. Now the difference between these various rays consists mainly in the difference between the periods in which the waves of the ether vibrate. The number of shocks upon the retina per second necessary to the production of the impression of red is four hundred and fifty-one millions of millions, while the number of shocks corresponding to the impression of violet is seven hundred and eighty-nine millions of millions. This gives for the length of a wave of the extreme red the 36,918th part of one inch, and for a wave of the extreme violet the 64,630th and one part of an inch. In this range of ether-vibrations are included all the effects the visual capacity of the human eye can appreciate. Vibrations of ether below or above the rate noted cease to produce any luminous im- pression. If below this rate, the vibrations are felt as heat, if above, they manifest themselves in chemical changes. That these three apparently widely different phenomena — light, heat and chemical changes — are in their nature dif- ferent modes of vibration of one and the same ether, is proved by the following facts : When the longer waves of heat are intensified, they gradually grow shorter, until finally they reach the periods of the waves of the spectrum. This fact has been demonstrated by Dr. Draper while heating platinum. As the heat augments, the platinum becomes luminous, and the different colors from red to white heat appear successively in the natural order of the spectrum. Thus heat is converted FORCE AND MATTER. 345 into light. When a black ribbon is passed through the successive colors of the spectrum, it quenches them all, that is, it absorbs all the constituents of the solar light. When a red ribbon is passed through the spectrum, it appears still brighter in the red light, while in the green or blue of the spectrum it is black as jet. A green ribbon also shines brighter in the green of the spectrum, while in the red it appears perfectly black. All these phenomena take place because objects we call black, red or green are so constituted that the black is conformable to all the luminous waves of the ether, which waves black assimilates or absorbs, while the red is antagonistic to the red, and the green to the green, which it consequently does not assimilate, but rejects. Now, what does all this mean? Are the waves of white light, when falling upon a black object, or the green and blue, when falling upon a red object, or the red, w T hen falling upon a green object, really annihilated ? By no means. Examining closely, w r e find that during the described process these objects have undergone a change in temperature. Their heat has been augmented to a degree exactly equivalent to the light extinguished. The periods of the luminous ether have simply been lowered, made slower, so as to escape the visual range. In short, light has been converted into heat. When the ultra-violet waves — which exceed in rapidity those of the violet, and which, therefore, lie out of the range of vision — are made to impinge upon the molecules of certain substances (on those of sulphate of quinine, for instance), their rate of vibration is at once brought down through the intermediation of the sulphate of quinine to a slower period, and the hereto- fore invisible rays are rendered visible. In other words, actinic rays have been converted into light. (Compare John Tyndall's Lectures on Light.) All this shows clearly that light, heat and chemical change (chemism) are, in their very nature, different vibratory motions of one and the same medium, the all-pervading ether ; that these different rates of vibrations may be converted into one another, and that the correlation of these so-called forces consists in their common nature, all being vibratory motions of one 23 34G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. and the same ether, though of different periods, periods pecul- iar to each of them. Now the question arises: What originates these vibrations, or what are the causes which produce these effects ? It has already been stated that in the case of light, for one thing, these phenomena are brought about by combustion. As, however, combustion consists of the clashing together of minute particles of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, it follows that the origination of these phenomena lies in the nature of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, and that these elements, therefore, must be accredited with the title of "forces." When heat-waves are to be converted into light, the only requisite is to intensify the heat, so that the amplitude of the waves not only becomes greater, but their length shorter, which raises them to the range of the spectrum. In order to effect this, a greater amount of carbon, hydrogen and oxy- gen, or a stronger voltaic current must be expended, and con- sequently it is again the particles of carbon, hydrogen and oxy- gen, and in the case of the battery, the particles of copper, zinc and acid, which convert longer into shorter ether-waves, and change heat into light ; and these elements, therefore, are the causes, and should be considered as the "forces," while heat and light are the effects — the peculiar vibrations of ether produced by them. When we see that a black ribbon quenches all the colors of the spectrum, a red one the green and blue, and a green one the red, and we find afterward their temperature raised to a degree exactly equivalent to the light extinguished, we con- clude that in these instances light has been converted into heat, or that the shorter luminous waves have been changed into the longer heat-waves. But how has this change been brought about ? As we cannot say the ether- waves have done it of their own accord (since they elsewhere continue in their accustomed rhythm if not interfered with), we must necessarily place the cause of this change in the peculiar nature of the par- ticles which constitute the black, red or green ribbon, and must consider the particles, therefore, as the forces which produce this effect, i. e., convert light into heat. FORCE AND MATTER. 347 The same must be said of the sulphate of quinine and many substances which reduce the invisible actinic rays to a slower period of vibration, and make them visible or convert them into light- waves. The cause of this change in the period of ether vibrations is the quinine and other substances (a long list of which has been examined by Stokes). As these substances are spent in the change of the ether motion, their particles are the forces which produce this effect — the conversion of actinic into light-waves. Since, furthermore, heat maybe transformed into electricity, and electricity into magnetism ; since chemical changes may produce electricity, or heat, or light or magnetism; since gravitation may be transformed to any of these forms, or to all of them in succession — we may safely infer that these so-called physical forces are in reality but modes of motion, caused and originated by what has thus far been designated by the term " matter." Matter, then, instead of being subordinate to these so-called physical forces (which have been thought to play and mold it), is, on the contrary, the very cause. Matter is spent in the origination of these modes of motion, and must, there- fore, rightly be considered as the "force" which produces all physical forces. We must, then (in opposition to the common view, which speaks of force and matter as two different things, of which the first uses the latter as the material out of which it molds all existing things), declare that such a distinction is not tena- ble ; that, on the contrary, every particle of matter is force, and that the so-called physical forces are but modes of motion pro- duced by these forces. We must, in speaking of matter, discard all notions of dead and inactive, and fashion our mind to conceive every particle of matter as a force (force constitutes its nature, its essence) which may change its form, but which can never be destroyed. Accordingly, a plant cannot be said to possess forces ; it is force and nothing else, a system of diverse forces which appears to our senses as something long, broad, thick, heavy, colored, sweet, bitter, etc., etc. ; in short, appears as that which we call body, material, matter or substance. 348 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. If force and matter were two distinct things, were they actually opposed to each other, it would follow that we must be able to separate (e. g., in plants) their forces from the dead material. But cut a body into its smallest particles, divide it mechanically or chemically as far as it goes, and you will never light upon force without matter. Force and matter will always be found united ; they are never separable except in thought, just because they are, in fact, one thing, i. enforce. Men and brutes require nourishment in order to exist. The food taken and digested is changed into blood, and carried all over the body in a suitable form for assimilation by parts which have suffered loss and decay. Thus the organism is renewed daily and obtains new forces by the nutriment which it takes in and prepares for ready assimilation. But still it remains matter and force all the same, which again, by the activity of the organism, is converted into motion. Forces are never at rest Even where they exist to the human senses in complete repose, as in the state of crystallization, or in the compact form of a rock or a metal, it is the attraction of their own particles which keeps them in this static condi- tion, and these particles (molecules) even here a are held to be in motion — possibly like the heavenly bodies around their central sun, and, for ought we know, at relatively as great distances from each other. A nebula in the heavens appears to the naked eye as a compact mass having a definite form like a common solid; but the revelations of the telescope show that the bodies which compose it are millions of miles from each other." (Boston Journal of Chemistry, Apr., 1875, p. 110.) Forces are never at rest. Those which constitute our atmos- phere and soil combine and differentiate in the vegetable organism to higher forms, such as vegetable albumen, legumine, amyline, fat, sugar, vegetable acids, cellulose, etc., which again, in the economy of animal organization, rise to still higher differentiations. But scarcely have they fulfilled their mission, when by a retrograde metamorphosis they join again the sources whence they were originally derived — the atmosphere in the form of gases, and the soil in the form of fluids and solids. This is the eternal revolution of forces by which SOUL AND BODY. 349 nothing is lost, and yet an incalculable amount of work is done in every second of existence ! 110. Soul and Body. Now the question arises : Are the known sixty-five elemen- tary bodies, and all their ever-varying combinations, which constitute the material world, all the forces that exist? If they were, the greatest part, and by far the most important part of all, the phenomena which the living w r orld presents, w T ould be entirely incomprehensible. Let us take, as an instance, the phenomenon of diffusion of fluids through different cells. It has been supposed that the facts obtained by numerous physical experiments in regard to the laws of diffusion might be applied to the living organism. It would apparently seem that that which could be observed to take place in an artificial cell-apparatus, would also naturally take place in living tissues. However, this conclusion proved to be a grand mis- take, as the researches of Sachs, Gerlach and Joh. Ranke have sufficiently shown. Sachs, in his Handbuch der Experimental- Physiologie der Pflanzen, p. 157 (Leipzig, 1865), states expressly: " That if a cell is killed, even without any visible injury, the phenomena of diffusion change at once, and strikingly." Gerlach states (" Wissenschaftliche Mittheilungen der Erlanger physikal-medicin. Gesellschaft, 1858, Ueber die Einwirkung von Farbstoff auf lebende Gewebe"), "that the assimilation of new material by living tissues is a vital process and totally different from the inorganic process of hydro-diffusion," and this important fact has been confirmed by Joh. Ranke in regard to muscles and nerves. (Joh. Ranke, Die Lebensbedingungen der Nerven, Leipzig, 1868, p. 73, etc) His experiments prove that living and dead tissues differ not only in their capacity to imbibe, when brought in contact with a weak solution of kitchen salt, or distilled water, etc., but also widely in their capacity of admitting salts. Hence he came to the conclusion that the appropriation of inorganic material by the living muscle and nerve-tissue does not ensue according to the laws of inorganic diffusion. (Compare Qrundlinien der Pathologie des Stoffwechsels, by Dr. F. W. Beneke, Berlin, 1874.) 350 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. What does all this mean? Diffusion is motion. Motion can- not take place without a corresponding something that is spent in its origination. If, now, diffusion (motion of fluids through tissues) is different in living and dead tissues, it fol- lows that there must be a something in the living that is not in the dead. As force originates motion, it follows further that the living tissue contains forces, which forces the dead tissue does not contain. W hat are these forces? Thus far no one has succeeded in exhibiting them to the senses. Do they, therefore, not exist? Did thallium not exist before Mr. Crookes discovered it? We have here a simple fact, an undeniable effect, that diffu- sion is materially changed in the self-same tissue, when that tissue is living and when it is dead. This effect — motion, dif- fusion — cannot be altered without a corresponding change in the forces which produce it. Now, as these forces, so far as they are the known constituent parts of the tissue, remain, to all appearance, the same dead or alive, it follows that what produces the change must be of a nature which lies out of the range of appearance. It must be either of a quality which escapes detection by the usual mechanical or chemical means, or it must be of a finer quality for the detection of which there exist no means of any kind. Hence, we are driven to the assumption of the existence of forces which lie out of the range of mechanical or chemical analysis. Diffusion is an instance drawn from the lowest plane of vegetable and animal life. Let us also consider an instance from a higher plane — sensibility. Sensibility must not be confounded with irritability. Sen- sibility is the basis of all conscious development, and is closely associated with the nervous structure of the animal kingdom. (Compare 70, 71.) In the course of progressive differentiation the nervous structure grows in complexity. At the same time sensibility unfolds to greater conscious activity or intelligence, and hence it was assumed that intelligence w T as merely a function of the nervous tissue. We have shown the fallacy of this conclusion in the physio- logical part of this work. A closer analysis brings us to quite SOUL AND BODY. 351 different conclusions. We see that nervous tissue retains sen- sibility only so long as it lives. At the moment of its death sensibility ceases, and chemism assumes full sway over its constituent parts. As such a change, in fact any change, in action (motion) cannot take place without a corresponding change in the forces which produce it (just as little as heat can be converted into light, or light into heat, or chemical action into light, without corresponding changes in the intermediating forces) (compare 109), the question arises: What is it that causes this change of sensibility into mere chemism? And, on the other hand, what is it that converts chemical action in the living organism into sensibility? We stand obviously before a gap which cannot be bridged over by mechanical or chemical contrivances. Dr. Fletcher, in his Rudiments of Physiology, tries to over- come this difficulty by declaring " that the truly living matter was not in simply a somewhat different chemical state from that in which it exists after death, but that the elements are in a state of combination not to be called chemical at all in the ordinary sense, but one which is utterly sui generis ; that, in fact, no albumen, flbrine, myosine, protogine or fats exist at all in the living matter; but that the sum of the elements of all these is united into a compound, for which we have no chem- ical name ; that of the complex made, in which the atoms are combined, we can form no idea, and it is only in the moment of death that those chemical compounds with which we are familiar take their origin. In fact, that death means simply the resolution of this complex combination into the simpler compounds (albumen, fibrine, and the rest), we find on analy- sis." {The Protoplasmic Theory of Life, by John Drysdale, M.D., London, 1874, p. 5.) Dr. Fletcher considers, then, living matter as entirely differ- ent from dead matter, and that " chemical analysis must be considered as useful in showing us not what such matter was composed of while it possessed vitality, but what it is composed of afterward.^ {Ibidem) We may accept this hypothesis to a certain extent. We are likewise of the opinion that nervous tissue retains sensi- 352 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. bility only so long as it lives, and that with the cessation of life chemical affinity takes its hold. We must also differ, how- ever, from his views. We cannot understand why a power, " which may be called vital affinity," should be superseded " by another power called chemical affinity," without there having occurred, at the same time, a change in the special forces which produce the difference in the action of " living and dead" matter. That "vitality or irritability is a mere property of organized or living matter, as inflammability is characteristic of phosphorus, or elasticity of ivory," would, in fact, say no more than that the living matter is alive. Fletch- er's hypothesis, therefore, does not bridge over the gap com- pletely. Although he admits the difference between " living and dead" matter, he makes that difference a mere property of living tissue, its vital affinity. But this affinity is exactly the thing which has to be ex- plained. His assertion, "that the instant the power called chemical affinity succeeds another power which may be called vital affinity, and by which it had been previously superseded, common chemical compounds are all that is left of the organ- ized mass," does not in the least tell us how this change of vital into chemical affinity is brought about. Any change in action (motion), as previously stated, presupposes always a corresponding change in the forces which produce it ; and if, after that change, " common chemical compounds are all that is left of the organized mass in which the elements had been associated," it follows that previous to that change, " while it possessed vitality, such matter was composed of something of which it is not afterward." This admission is satisfactory, but it has no great weight; for, at the same time, Dr. Fletcher also asserts : " Nor is this power called ' vital affinity ' any essence or force added to the living matter, for irritability or vitality is a property of organized or living matter," etc. This power called vital affinity is, indeed, no essence or force added to the living matter. It is the effect, the action, the motion of that matter thus composed. If, now, as Dr. Fletcher correctly asserts, chemical analysis shows us not what such matter was composed of while it possessed vitality, but what it SOUL AND BODY. 353 is composed of afterward," we are compelled to assume that the living nervous tissue consists of still other forces than those which make up its material body, and which lie entirely out of the reach of any and all mechanical and chemical means of detection ; for without corresponding forces a change in action (motion) is as incomprehensible' as it would be illogical to admit. All life phenomena force upon us this conviction, and it is only "when preconceived ideas tyrannize over the understand- ing" that the facts which teach this simple truth, and which are as common as the falling apple, are overlooked or treated with " scientific" ignorance. All life phenomena would be utterly incomprehensible without the assumption of the exist- ence of higher forces. In the first and faintest motion that life begets lies the unsurmountable boundary of "a science" which assumes nothing but forces which can be traced and deter- mined by crucible and scales. It is an arbitrary fencing in of a narrow road for human thought, a limitation w T hich the ever-expanding mind — itself the outcropping of higher forces — will never tolerate. When we find that at a certain stage of evolution the known (so-called) material forces are absolutely insufficient for the explanation of phenomena which are as absolutely real and objective as any in the organic world, we must necessarily conclude that there are' still other forces at work, although they do not lie in the range of our senses and their auxiliaries. It is a hypothesis as correct and as necessary as that of gravi- tation, or the theory of atoms. And as these forces produce effects as real as any of the material forces, they must in turn be themselves as real as any of the forces which appear to our senses. From their effects w r e learn their nature, and in this they differ as much as "material" forces differ among them- selves. We observe a constant gradation from lower to higher ones, until in man — the microcosm — all seem to be united, from the lowest earthy to the highest psychical forces. But still, all constituent parts of man are forces. There are no such two things as force and matter. What w T e call matter is force capable of affecting the senses, and if it is customary to call 354 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. all that possesses this property "material," there is no cogent reason why forces, the nature of which lies out of the range of sensual perception, should not be called "immaterial" without detracting by this designation, in the least, anything of their reality and substantiality. The term merely implies that, in contradistinction to the first class, the latter are of a nature which is not capable of affecting the senses, or rather which our senses in their ordinary develop- ment are not capable of perceiving. We know so very little yet about the nature of matter, except that our nose appears sometimes longer than our arms, when in the dark we run against an open door and strike it with that precious organ, which means that the common idea of matter is but the crudest conception of its impenetrability by another object. We might, perhaps, from another standpoint, call matter with the same right " immaterial," and mind, the only matter that exists. But what would we gain by it? Some prefer the designation "transcendental" or " super sensuous," that is, tran- scending the senses. Even that is admissible, if we under- stand by it not something that is nothing, but real, actual forces, which differ from the so-called " material " forces merely in that the supersensuous forces lie out of the range of sensuous perception ; and that is really the same idea we want to express by the term immaterial forces. These explanations are indeed only necessary for those who are not capable of understanding anything but what they can grasp, or are con- tentedly convinced that what lies out of the range of their grip does not exist at all — is not. It is scarcely necessary to again detail the psychical forces of man at this time. We have largely treated of them in the course of this work under the name of primitive forces. The psychical forces in their union constitute the soul, while all the material forces in their union constitute the body. Man, then, so long as he lives upon this earth, is a system of interblending mate- rial and immaterial forces, and not a juggling together of two diametrically opposite things — spirit and body; the first imaginary, divested of all substantiality (regarded by some church-creeds as an undefined something and yet nothing, SOUL AND BODY. 355 and by materialists as a mere function of the brain), and the latter imaginary, degraded to a mere heap of dirt, or idolized as the all of all. Man is a system of interblending material and immaterial forces which we will try to examine still further. The ultimate points to which physiological and microscopic anatomical researches have reached, and will ever attain to, are the bioplasts — microscopical bodies too minute to be weighed, and which appear perfectly structureless, colorless, and transparent and semifluid. The smallest of them are spherical, and the largest assume the spherical form when free to move in a fluid or semifluid medium. There is not one portion of a living, growing tissue the five hundredth part of an inch in extent, in which bioplasts cannot be demonstrated. They are separated from one another at every period of life, in every part of the body, by a distance little more than the one thousandth part of an inch. Bioplasts are prior to the cells, the latter being products of the former, or material formed. Indeed all formed material grows out of bioplasts and constitutes the body of the living thing. (92, Beale's Protoplasm.) Now let us suppose we could, by chemical agencies, dissolve all the formed material of the body without destroying its bioplasts — as we can dissolve by hydrochloric acid the calcic elements of any bony structure without destroying its organic constituents — we should then have a body left of such an attenuated form, that it would appear as a transparent object, although in its outlines, height, width, depth and internal arrangement corresponding exactly to the original body, be- cause the bioplasts are not further apart from one another than the one thousandth part of an inch in any part of the living body. But still it would represent only material ele- ments ; namely, that portion of the body out of which origin- ally all the formed constituents are evolved. All bioplasts appear alike. It is impossible to distinguish the bioplasts which are to evolve the oak from those which are the germ of a vertebrate animal; nor can any difference be discovered between the bioplasts of the lowest, simplest, epithelial scale of man's organism, and those from which the nerve-cells of his brain are to be evolved. Neither would the 356 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. most careful microscopical observation, nor the most skilful chemical analysis enable us to distinguish the bioplasts ob- tained from the body of an ape from those taken from a man, a dog, or a fish. Yet we know that the life-history of these bioplasts is very different. Two forms of living matter (bio- plasts) may be indistinguishable by observation or experiment, and yet they may be as widely removed from one another as are the poles. The remarkable differences, however, are not of a kind to be expressed in any terms known to physics or chemistry. The differences are of the vital kind ; and although not recognizable by the balance or the microscope, their ex- istence must be admitted, unless all the subsequent structural differences resulting from changes in the bioplasts can be otherwise adequately accounted for. (Compare Beale's Bio- plasm, p. 17, and Protoplasm, pp. 284 and 286.) Dr. Beale comes to the same results at which we have arrived ; namely, that the living tissue consists of still other forces than those which make up its material body, and which lie entirely out of the reach of any and all mechanical and chemical means of detection; for without corresponding forces a change in the action (motion) is as incomprehensible as it would be illogical to admit. Between the single protoplasts, wherever found, no kind of distinction can be made by any means, and yet their products are vastly different. Out of the one kind grow bones, out of another muscles, out of another fluids, out of another nerves, out of another brain, etc. The protoplasts, then, must contain forces specific in their kind, forces unknown to physics or chemistry, but nevertheless as real as the protoplasts 'them- selves which embody them. Here, then, we arrive at the point where material forces interblend with immaterial forces, with forces which by means of the protoplasts project their own essence, being and meaning . into the material world, and thus give rise to a material ex- pression of their own existence. They must, then, constitute in themselves a complex of forces — which must be a prototype of their material expression, just as the complex of protoplasts corresponds precisely in all its parts to the body from which SOUL AND BODY. 357 the formed material we might suppose to have been removed. To say the same thing in other words, the immaterial forces impart to the protoplasts their own nature, and thus work out through them the different kinds of formed material of which the material body consists. They are the builders of the body. Those, for instance, which control the bioplasts out of which a particular bone, or muscle, or fluid, or nerve, or part of brain, etc., is growing, must be the precise prototype of these several formations, and, paradoxical as it may sound, the various and manifold constituents of the material body must have their several exact prototypes in these immaterial forces which govern the bioplasts, by means of which all living bodies derive their formed material. This implies that the body is but the material expression of its immaterial forces, which are the prototype of the entire bodily conformation. If we could see this prototype with our natural eyes or their auxiliaries, we would behold an exact counterpart of the material body in all its details and work- ings; it would be the immaterial body of the material thing. Applied to man, it is all the same. By means of the proto- plasm the entire human body is gradually evolved, as the structureless, transparent, semifluid, microscopic particles are transformed into definite shapes, into the special constituents of the body, all accurately coadjusted to one another and pre- cisely adapted to the various functions of this wonderful machine. We see in this process all mechanical and chemical means used to advantage, but always under the regulation of a higher law by an unknown vital power. The existence of this vital power (Lebenskraft) has frequently been denied by modern science and as often reaffirmed. What is it? As a single poiver it surely has no existence, just as little as the " understanding," the " reasoning power," the " will-power," etc., have any existence as single powers of the mind, unless taken in an abstract sense. (Compare the cor- responding chapters of this work.) Hence the denial of " a vital power." There is not a vital power, but there are as many powers as there are immaterial forces acting in the billions of bioplasts, by means of which they incarnate them- selves in the material world. 358 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. These immaterial forces build up the entire body, govern and regulate the nervous and digestive apparatus, the respira- tory and circulatory organs, the bones, muscles and skin — in short, all the organs and functions of the body; and we have called them in 1 the vital senses, inasmuch as they also per- ceive and announce the regularity or irregularity with which the functioned vitales of the bodily organism are going on. Another class of immaterial forces are those which we have detailed through the entire work as the primitive forces of our senses in connection with their organs. Still another class, very closely connected with the latter, are the immaterial forces which permeate the minute bioplasts known under the name "granules," and are "directly concerned in mental action." " The number of these bioplasts and nerve fibres is altogether beyond calculation. A portion of gray matter upon the surface of a convolution not larger than the head of a very small pin, will contain portions of many thousands of nerve fibres, the distal ramifications of which may be in very dis- tant and different parts of the body." " In these highest bio- plasts the ' vital power' (the immaterial forces) determines movements which, by reacting upon the previously formed mechanism, may give rise to the most complex phenomena. In this mental apparatus the ' will' is the ' power' which de- termines the movements of the matter of bioplasts taking part in the phenomena of the mind. This is the highest vital action with which we are acquainted, but clearly to be included in the same category as the vital actions which determine the active movement of the matter in the simplest forms of bioplasm, as that of an amoeba, or a white blood-corpuscle, or other bioplast. The movement of this highest form of bioplasm reacts upon a wonderfully elaborate apparatus, parts of which are in close relationship with the mental bioplasts. Changes excited in the apparatus are the immediate consequence of the vital movements. These last only are truly mental, while the ex- pression of thought is but a result of the influence of the mental vital action [the action of the immaterial forces — Author] upon the mechanism concerned in expression, without which thought could not be rendered evident to another person. A great dis- SOUL AND BODY. 359 tinction must, indeed, be drawn between the thought and the expression of the thought." (Beale's Bioplasm, p. 208.) Thus we are again forced to the conclusion that back of the protoplasts exists a complete organized system of immaterial forces, which is the exact prototype of the material human body. "VVe may call it an immaterial body, if that expression is rightly understood ; or, according to Paul, a spiritual body. It is the human soul — that being of which most men have but a shadowy idea, because they have never been accustomed to self-observation. The soul consists of that organized system of immaterial forces by which it projects itself, on the one hand, into the material w r orld. The soul consists, therefore, of an immaterial nervous, respiratory, circulatory, generative, muscular, bony and cutaneous system ; has eyes, ears, nose, mouth and all the organs in every particular as expressed materially in the human body. On the other hand, by its higher immaterial forces, the higher senses, it develops into all those conscious modifications of which we have been treat- ing in this work as cognitions, conations and feelings, and all their wonderful combinations. This is the soul of man ; not a nonentity, or a mere property of material forces, but the highest complex of organized im- material forces, with capabilities higher than any other being known on earth. It is the real we ourselves, that self-conscious being, made capable, by its own incarnation, of living, thriving and acting in this material world. The development of the primitive forces into the different conscious modifications (cognitions, conations and feelings) we call mind; and mind, according to Hamilton, is that which perceives, thinks, feels, wills and desires. The spirit of man is the developed soul in its higher and lower senses, with an immaterial body of its own, its imma- terial vital forces or vital senses. The body is the material projection of the soul by means of the bioplasts from which all the formed material is derived. How intimate this connection and relation between soul and body (that is, between the immaterial or psychical and the material or corporeal forces) is , can be further shown by the fact that they both are developed according to the same laws. 360 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. First, then, the psychical forces require for their evolution external stimuli. The psychical forces tend toward the ex- ternal stimuli and are specifically modified by them. As spe- cific modifications they endure in the form of vestiges, which distinctly differ from each other according to the elements (stimuli) from which they arise. The case is exactly similar with our body. The structure- less and colorless bioplasts (corporeal forces) tend to move toward the pabulum which they are about to take up and transform. In this way formed material results, which may be solid, fluid or gaseous, soft or hard, colored or colorless; and this relation is definite, so that from the same kind of living matter under similar conditions the same formed substances result. Secondly. In the soul mobile elements (primitive forces and stimuli, so long as they have not yet united in fixed forms) flow from one mental modification to another, and accumulate on them and excite them. By this process quiescent (uncon- scious) modifications are roused into consciousness, painful modifications are driven away by pleasurable ones, and con- versely, etc. In the body we find exactly similar phenomena. Its fluid and mobile elements diffuse on all sides and are assimilated by the protoplasm. New material is formed, and old material is carried off. In this way existing healthy parts of the body are strengthened and sickly and disorganized parts are re- stored to a healthy condition, and conversely, etc. The so- called " vis medicatrix naturse " obviously consists in this trans- ference of mobile elements. Thirdly. In the soul, like attracts like and coalesces into one whole. This law prevails in the body as well. The fresh material is converted by the protoplasm into its own kind, and out of it again grows the various and specifically formed material. Accordingly, the original formation of the body, such as occurs in the mother's womb, is, as it were, the prototype and original that will be copied all our life long. Fresh hair and nails are always like the old. Lost tissue (skin, bone) is SOUL AND BODY. 361 reproduced in such a way that it, at least in the main, resembles the old. Even deformities, provided they originated with the body, continue themselves, e. g., six fingers instead of five, a crooked spine, etc. Later growth and development does not transform them into something opposite to what they were first, and so on. Fourthly. In the soul originate constantly fresh primitive forces, which process we shall consider more fully in the next chapter. After what has been stated, it needs no detailed exposition to show that the body does the same. Nourishment is assim- ilated by the protoplasm and changed into matter of its own kind, that is, into fresh corporeal forces analogous to those already existing. Thus, as the same laws govern the development of soul and body, there must surely exist a close relationship between psychical and corporeal forces. Although we have taken great pains to prove that " matter is force," and that " soul is force," and thereby have apparently favored the monistic theory, there is still left a wide difference between " soul-force" and "matter-force." Let us state the question fairly and squarely : What is the fundamental distinction between psychical and corporeal forces, if there be any ? The soul is constantly acted upon by external stimuli, and by this action the innate capacity of the primitive soul-forces of becoming conscious is developed into actual consciousness, which development endures even when, by the removal of the stimulant, it turns again from the excited to the unexcited condition, or to a vestige (97, 98). The body likewise assim- ilates nutritive elements from the external world ; but its forces never become conscious by so doing. All the primitive soul-forces developed by external elements and thus carried on toward perfection, follow their respective affinities and coalesce in a whole, the effect of which is that more clearly conscious modifications are produced in proportion as the vestiges from which they result are more numerous; but, however complex the resulting whole may be, however varied may be the association into groups and series, vestiges 24 362 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. never produce anything extended in space. The soul never swells or enlarges the head, however much it may have en- larged its acquisitions by study. The corporeal forces, also, developed by nutritive elements and thus carried on toward perfection, follow their respective affinities and fuse into a whole, the effect of which is that the formed material thus pro- duced causes gradually the development of the various organs, and the consequent growth of the entire body in all three dimen- sions until it reaches a certain size ; but, however complex and extended in space that body may be, it never develops any- thing like consciousness. Does it really not ? Are not tooth- ache, stomachache, hunger, thirst, and all the numerous aches bodily feelings? No, they are not. The body or its corporeal forces act merely in these instances upon the vital senses, the lowest psychical forces we possess, which perceive this action, just as light or sound act upon sight and hearing. The body never feels. The body makes us feel if anything is the matter with it; i. e., the corporeal forces never develop con- sciousness, just as little as any other material force; but they act precisely and quite unmistakably upon their correspond- ing psychical forces as other external stimuli do. What we call bodily feelings or sensations are the impressions made by the body upon our vital senses, which are of a 'psychical nature; and therefore, even here, the distinction between psychical and corporeal forces remains sharply defined. By the law of the attraction of similars the soul-forces acquire consciousness, but always remain spaceless ; whereas corporeal forces, accord- ing to the same law, gain in local extension and fixity, but never attain to consciousness. 111. Generation of Fresh Primitive Forces. Directly we apprehend or perceive anything, the primitive forces are acted upon by external stimuli, and are correspond- ingly modified by them (4). Whoever has been in an exhi- bition of works of art or industry, in a gallery of pictures, or a museum of natural history, etc., and spent one or two hours in carefully examining the objects there, without feeling con- GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 363 siderable fatigue and relaxation in his visual forces? The same effect is produced on the auditory forces at a concert, if we listen to the music with close attention for several hours. The like is the case with the primitive forces of taste and smell, when they are stimulated for a long time ; and he who has spent the day in chopping wood will not deny that his mus- cular forces flag considerably in the evening. In like manner we feel tired, even though the senses be unemployed, when we think of anything intently for a long period, or keep our men- tal modifications awake, and, as it were, in agitation, by cares and anxieties, etc. From these illustrations it is clear that the available and un- occupied primitive forces decrease in proportion either as they are acted upon by corresponding external stimuli or are spent as mobile elements. After a sound sleep the expended forces seem to be replaced again. Indeed, by the rest alone we indulge in after exertion we feel refreshed, and even sometimes by chang- ing one kind of activity for another. A social conversation after a hard day's work enlivens us afresh. These facts prove that not all the primitive forces throughout the soul have been spent, but only in those systems which have especially been occupied by work. The restoration of the consumed forces takes place mainly during sleep, if not exclusively during that time of rest. Sleep consists of the predominant assimilating activity of the corpo- real forces, a condition periodically necessitated whenever the primitive forces, mental or corporeal, have become exhausted by the performance of a certain amount of work (103). The generation of corporeal forces Dr. Beale describes as follows : " In the process of nutrition pabulum passes into living bio- plasm, and is then converted into this substance." " The for- mation of bioplasm from the pabulum is an essentially vital act, and one which occurs in every form of nutritive process. The changes which occur during this process, however, are very difficult to investigate, if, indeed, they be not beyond the province of investigation altogether." " It is interesting, how- ever, to inquire by what means the soluble pabulum is caused to pass into the bioplasm. No form of attraction or affinity 364 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. with which we are acquainted will account for the passage of pabulum toward and into living matter. The question is one upon which I have ventured to speculate. The tendency every mass of bioplasm exhibits to divide into smaller portions, each part appearing to move aw T ay from other portions, suggests the idea of there being some power of centrifugal movement in operation. The moving away of particles from a centre would necessarily create a tendency of the fluid around to move toward the centre. I think, therefore, that the nutrient pabu- lum is, as it were, drawn in by the centripetal currents, excited by the centrifugal movements of the particles of the living bioplasm." (Beale's Protoplasm, pp. 266 and 277.) " The bioplasm alone possesses power of growth and of pro- ducing matter like itself out of materials differing from it materially in composition, properties and powers. " The pabulum does not shade by imperceptible gradations into the living matter, but the passage from one state into the other is sudden and abrupt, although there may be much living matter mixed with little lifeless matter, or vice versa" (Beale's Protoplasm, p. 185). Viewing these quotations we see that bioplasm generates itself by an unknown vital act, an act by which it assimilates pabulum of a nature materially different from its own, and converts it suddenly and abruptly into matter like itself. In- explicable as is this conversion of pabulum into bioplasm or corporeal forces — as inexplicable as all processes in regard to life — we still see, at least, the material out of which these living forces (bioplasm) are prepared. This is not so easily shown in regard to the generation of psychical forces. And yet a restoration of the same is not only an absolute necessity, but a fact we can observe daily. This problem has never been thought of before Beneke, and even since his researches have been published, years ago, it has not been made a special study by psychologists, w T ho never penetrated to an understanding of the nature of the primitive forces of the soul, just as little as the physiologists knew any- thing of bioplasm before Beale, although the name bioplasm was used to signify quite a number of different substances. (Compare Beale's Protoplasm, p. 88, etc.) GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 365 Let us now, with the plummet of Beneke, try to sound this subject, in order to find what can be elicited concerning a pro- cess that is performed in the hidden workshop of nature, by logical reasoning upon facts that lie before us. Consider the following: In classifying a number of minerals I apply my sight-forces. After some time I grow so tired I cannot make headway. Next morning all goes on very well again. Another example: I think for a long time upon a knotty point, but cannot succeed in making the matter clear to my mind. After a sound sleep the new exertions bestowed upon it bring me much nearer a solution, and finally I master the subject. We go on a pleasure trip per pedes apostolorum. We feel tired after the first day's outing ; but if our first ex- ertions were not too great, and our feet not blistered, we get on better the next and the following days. It seems, thus, that in the soul, as well as in the body, the greatest number of primitive forces are formed exactly where the greatest number has been expended. It is important to bear this first conclusion in mind. It may lead us to one of the sources (and materials) whence the new primitive forces are derived. The primitive forces are consumed in proportion, either as they are acted upon by corresponding external stimuli, or are spent as mobile ele- ments. The first of these uses — the primitive forces being acted upon by external stimuli — for our present consideration is the most important. What are external stimuli ? In 78 we have defined the various stimuli which excite corresponding sensory organs as agencies, the essential nature of which consists of motion, of motion of the ether, of the air, of solids, of fluids and of mole- cules. We may generalize this by saying : External stimuli are all those terrestrial and sidereal influences capable of affect- ing the senses. In affecting the senses the stimuli modify the corresponding primitive forces in a more or less enduring manner, forming sensations, perceptions, etc. ; they must, there- fore, be considered not as a mere abstract motion, but as mov- ing matter of their own kind, differing entirely from the primitive forces as the pabulum does from the bioplasm. As little as 366 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. formed matter can grow out of pabulum, just as little can external influences produce conscious modifications. The production of modifications is solely the property of the primi- tive forces. The external influences are merely the means of modifying in a definite manner the primitive forces. But these external stimuli are moving matter, which is re- ceived and somehow appropriated by the psychical forces and thus converted into forces of their own kind. How ? Somehow ! It is of no use speculating about this deepest of all life-pro- cesses. Only one thing seems certain. We have to deal with forces on both sides, with so-called material forces (matter) on the one hand, and with so-called immaterial forces (primitive soul-substance) on the other. But as we do not understand the nature of either any further than their effects reveal, we might as well content ourselves with the conclusion that as forces they must have some relationship to each other, and may be con- vertible into each other. We might say that the received external stimuli, by an unknown life-process, are converted into fresh soul-forces, just as pabulum, by an unfathomable vital process, is converted into bioplasm. And this would appear, after all, nothing more than a higher differentiation of forces by the innate transcendental (supersensuous) nature of living things, a process just as inexplicable at the lowest beginning of life as it is in the highest. This view is strength- ened when we consider the above-stated experience : The greatest number of primitive soul and body-forces are gener- ated at the point where they have been spent most largely in the appropriation of external stimuli. A large amount of such stimuli must naturally have aggregated around and about the newly formed modifications ; and it appears to be a logical conclusion, if we take the partially appropriated external elements as one source of material from which fresh psychical forces are generated. Thus we might consider the newly formed psychical modifications as the very birth-place of freshly generated psychical forces. When we further consider that even bioplasm is living matter only because it is associated and endowed with psy- chical forces (by which it is enabled to produce formed matter; GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 367 or, as Beale has it, it is the " vital power " of the bioplasm that does it), and that the highest bioplasts are directly concerned in psychical operations, it is surely not out of the way of logical reasoning to suppose that the nourishment of the bio- plasts has also something to do with the generation of psy- chical forces; and that, therefore, bodily forces contribute likewise to, and are a joint source in, the generation of fresh psychical forces. The objection that we thereby degrade the soul to a material thing, is not well put. In 109 we have shown that there are no such two things as matter and force, but that all is force which in the course of evolution is gradually differentiated to higher and higher states of being; and I do not see any cogent reason why bodily forces could and should not be sublimated into higher psychical forces, especially as bodily and psychical forces exist in such close connection as they actually do. How could they reciprocally influence each other if they were of a nature entirely and diametrically opposed to each other? The intimate union between soul and body teaches the contrary. The terrestrial and sidereal influences, then, in the form of ex- ternal stimuli and bodily forces, seem to be the two main sources whence the material for the generation of fresh psy- chical forces are derived. We might add to them a transcen- dental source. Man is planted in material soil. He grows and unfolds into spiritual development, into a sphere that is most probably the moving cause of all terrestrial evolutions. We cannot say how much of sustenance the human soul may con- stantly receive from that spiritual source. Still another question concerns us here: Are the primitive soul-forces generated in one continuous mass or singly? When we take a view of a city or another complex object for the first time, we do not gain at a glance anything like a perfect notion of it, not even when the object is presented to our eyes all at once. We are obliged to examine in detail. It is only after single apprehensions of the several parts have been obtained and united by mobile elements into one whole or group that we gain a perfect knowledge of an object. This speaks clearly for the assumption that the primitive soul-forces must have been formed singly and not as a continuous mass. 368 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. Although it is true that we gain, even at a glance, a kind of total image of an object, and that image is clearer the more energetic our primary forces are (7), and more precise, indi- vidual and exact, in proportion as they are more sensitive (5) ; yet such an effect is produced only so far as we have already within us something ready to be reproduced by this impres- sion; a complete and perfect image it certainly is not. When, therefore, we find some men who are able to comprehend a highly complex object in a very brief time, they do so because they already possess a larger quantity of modifications corres- ponding to it, and because of the greater vivacity and quick- ness of their visual forces, by which their time is economized. But particular and repeated examination of the object, by which alone a perfect notion of the whole can be obtained, is as necessary in their case as it is with other persons. Our visual forces do not work as a mass, but invariably as single and individual forces, as it were, point by point, or drop by drop. Nor is the case different with the sense of hearing. In a piece of music, say a quartette, a chorus, where four or more voices or instruments are heard together, the ear only appre- hends a few sounds definitely at the one time. If the prac- ticed musician is able to hear more than one who is no musician, he is indebted for that ability to the numerous vestiges which simultaneously listen, which he had ac- quired one by one at some previous time ; for vestiges are able to operate more in a mass simply because it is only necessary that they be reproduced. The elaboration, the development of the primitive forces, their modification by external stimuli, on the contrary, always take place singly, one by one. It is with the psychical forces as it is with the corporeal forces, the bioplasts; they are not one mass, but con- sist of innumerable microscopical particles of a jelly-like, trans- parent stuff. We may infer, then, that the primitive forces are generated from the very start as single forces, one by one, like the bioplasts. We must add still another point. In 24 w T e spoke of the quantitative relation between external stimuli and primitive forces. We found that the former might be insufficient, full, GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 369 very full, or too strong (either suddenly or gradually too strong); all of which conditions occur. If, for instance, we were to light a room, from an unsatisfactory twilight up to the most dazzling splendor by degrees (and we were to let all these light-stimuli, in all their degrees, successively affect our visual forces), a dim light would prove unsatisfactory, because the stimulant would be too little for our sight-forces. One, two or three candles would suit them ; ten, twenty or thirty would set them in full swing; and a thousand, all concentrated and blazing together, would upset them. This upsetting would not occur once or twice, as a matter of chance. It would recur regularly as often as we repeated the experiment. In the other senses experience shows that the same thing occurs. Hence it follows that the primitive forces are, from the very first, exactly alike as respects their strength; i. e., their capacity of appre- hending and receiving a certain amount of external elements (that is, be it well observed, the single, individual primitive forces of one and the same system). It is true that in different men this capacity is also different. One finds himself comfortable under a given stimulant, a stimulant which would be too much for another. But in the same person we find all the primitive forces, so far as they belong to the same class, of the same capacity; and when they are weaker, as in many cases of sick- ness, where one cannot bear the glare of ordinary daylight, or the ordinary sound of the voices of those around, etc., the freshly generated forces are all, either of one or several or of all our sensory systems, equally depressed. It is noticeable that at such times the bodily forces, which are the support of the psychical, are below their ordinary strength. In summing up we arrive, then, at the following results: 1. Fresh primitive forces are generated mainly during sleep. 2. Where most primitive forces have been expended, there most are generated. 3. The forces are formed by some kind of transformation (which constitutes the most secret process of life in the soul, as well as in all living things) from a portion of the external stimuli taken up and assimilated ; and, therefore, 4. The special centres for the formation of fresh primitive 370 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. forces are the newly produced sensations and perceptions (4); and, in like manner, 5. The bodily forces contribute their share to the formation of fresh primitive forces. 6. The primitive forces are formed in the soul from the first, singly, one by one, in the same way as the bioplasts are formed in single microscopical particles ; and, 7. All forces that belong to one and the same class are exactly alike as respects their strength and qualities. They all deserve the name of primitive forces, because, al- though of later growth, they do not differ either in essence or in operation from those primitive forces of which the soul consists at birth. We ought not to speak, then, of a power or a faculty of sight, hearing, etc., unless we mean to use this term in abstracto; for, in fact, the power of sight consists of numberless single concrete visual forces, as the material body consists of countless numbers of bioplasts. On the whole, it is but right to add that we do not consider this exposition of the subject of the generation of the primitive soul-forces as exhaustive. It may even, in some of its propo- sitions, be faulty. All this, however, does not alter the fact that it is at least an attempt to clear up a subject which, before Beneke, had not even been made a problem to be solved by "psychological science." 112. Final and Necessary Separation of Soul from Body — Death. — Continuance of the Soul after Death. If all and everything that takes place in the soul with any approach to perfection leaves a vestige, and if such vestige is associated with those resembling it that have already been formed, the soul must be continually increasing in growth and in- ternal strength up to the very moment of death. Is this borne out by experience? Apparently not, at least not always ; for we find that not the mentally weak only, but not unfrequently the strongest souls also, fall, at an advanced age, into a condition of idiocy. Now, although numbers may be instanced who, up to the last moment of advanced old age, SEPARATION OF SOUL FROM BODY. 371 showed no such symptoms, still that does not do away with the other and opposite fact. This much, however, is obvious at first sight : This kind of idiocy, which is completely differ- ent from the congenital form, must be based, not on some law of nature, but on something accidental and contingent, for otherwise it would constantly occur in all old people. At any rate we must consider this, as well as other phenomena of age, somewhat more closely. Anyone who has been moderately attentive to what passes within him, must admit that there are occasional periods in his life when mental activity is all but impossible. After a busy day such moments are especially common. Strive as you will to reflect on some subject, all remains dark and un- conscious. In many maladies this is so much the case that the patient seems to do little more than vegetate. But so soon as these conditions have passed away the soul is again the same active, vigorous, strong soul that it ^as before. Hence the weakness, the impotence, could in no wise have affected the inbeing of the soul, could not have touched the acquired modifications themselves, which are the real estate of the soul ; for if these modifications had been de- stroyed, by what magic could the soul have become again, directly after the illness, exactly the same as it was before? We have considered the true cause of such passing weakness in 13, and discovered that it is to be found solely in the deficiency of either fresh or partially modified primitive forces (modified by general stimuli), since they are the means by which the unexcited becomes excited, the unconscious is made conscious. Without agitation the strongest and clearest psychical modifi- cations are as good as non-existent. Consequently, a deficiency in the elements which arouse consciousness, must always pro- duce either a total cessation or a partial obstruction in the cur- rent of our thoughts. Thus, after a hard day's work, when most of the primitive forces have been expended in forming vestiges, few only remain that can still receive general external stimuli. We may fall asleep or become unconscious in spite of all that happens around us. We are exhausted, that is, our primitive forces are 372 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. spent. The same must be the case in many maladies, where either the generation of new primitive forces is impeded, or some damage is done to the connecting vestiges. The latter is notably the case when in some violent sickness the whole memory (as people call it) appears to be lost or deranged to such a degree, that the patient after recovery has to learn to read, write, cipher, etc., over again. Experience has proved that the forgotten education is re-acquired with remarkable quickness. After a few weeks' work the whole former knowl- edge is again produced, i. e., active, a knowledge that at first it took years to aquire. The malady, therefore, only affected w T hat was constructed out of mobile elements namely ; the as- sociations and connections between the mental modifications, and not the modifications themselves. These latter continued to exist, but their connecting vestiges had, by weakness or impediment, become so damaged that the usual exciting mobile elements, which always flow in the direction of the connecting vestiges, were interrupted in their natural course and failed to find access to the corresponding modifications. So soon as this damage is repaired by new connecting vestiges, the acquired mental modifications can be roused again into consciousness as before the disability. Hence there is nothing inexplicable in the above-mentioned attacks of idiocy or incapacity for mental exertion. It appears that such apparent lapses of knowledge were only stoppages in the process by which our psychical modifications become reproduced in consciousness, caused partly by a deficiency of mobile elements, partly by damage done to the connecting vestiges. Sometimes the cause of impediment lies in a derangement of the brain or certain parts of it, a normal state of which is a necessary condition for the exhibition of mental phenomena. We see this particularly in the affliction called aphasia. In a moment it may unfit a person to express a single thought, although, in fact, his thoughts are unimpaired, and the organs of speech without fault. But it has been found in many cases that a little clot of blood in the median artery of the left frontal lobe, and especially in its third frontal convolution, impedes the circulation in these parts and thus cuts off the supply of corporeal forces which are needed for the execution of those SEPARATION OF BODY FROM SOUL. 373 nervous motions by which the psychical force is converted into corporeal ; in other words, by which thought can be expressed in audible language. Aphasia consists, therefore, in a breakage of the connecting line of forces which mediate in the con- version of psychic into corporeal forces; but it is not a damage to the mind itself. Now, if we should be able to show that as we grow older the elements of consciousness must needs decrease, we would have an explanation of the idiocy which sometimes accompanies advanced age, and we should have proved that it is not a weak- ening of the inbeing of the soul itself but merely a defective excita- tion of our mental modifications. If we observe a child we find it almost entirely the slave of external stimuli. A fly on the wall destroys the child's atten- tion, and a cart passing by the window attracts the little one's eyes toward it. It resists impressions of pain as little as it does those of pleasure ; it is equally the captive of either. A boy — the child grown a little older — is far less dependent on external stimuli. He can endure pain and abstain from pleasure. He can in general withdraw his attention at will from external things, and he begins to elaborate the knowl- edge he has gained in a more independent manner. A mature man occupies himself by preference with his early acquisitions, and is often only with difficulty open to the recep- tion of new truths, especially when they run counter to his former notions. Hence it is that among all classes of men who have attained this riper age, we so frequently find an attach- ment to the usual and beaten path. In old age this is very much more the case. Of many we say they are dead to all progress. The following observations will reveal the cause of these phenom- ena. When we meet agriculturists, what is their favorite topic of conversation ? Agriculture. Go into the company of teachers and you will find that education is the staple of their talk. Go among physicians, theologians, botanists; listen to merchants, mechanics, soldiers, etc., and see whether their conversation does not mainly turn on their respective occu- pations. Nor can it be otherwise ; for that which is strongest, that which is based on the largest number of vestiges, must be the 374 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. easiest to rise into consciousness. This is the case with all men as respects concepts relating to their daily occupations. Such concepts are nearest to consciousness. Now, since our mental modifications can only be made con- scious by the addition of mobile elements, we see that these elements flow to or are attracted in the largest amount by those mental modifications which are strongest in the soul, or which consist of the largest number of vestiges. (99-102.) This fact explains the phenomena instanced above. In the child's soul there are as yet no modifications of very numerous vestiges, and hence the mobile elements are not particularly attracted by such modifications ; consequently the primitive forces are free and open to the influence and reception of external stimuli of any kind. They abandon themselves to whatever acts upon them. In the somewhat older boy the strength of his mental modifications is considerably greater than in the child, and therefore the mobile elements are attracted to these modifications more readily and render them conscious, and the mobile elements are in the same proportion drawn away from external impressions. Briefly : The more the mental modifications increase in the number of their vestiges (in strength), the more are the mobile elements applied to rendering them conscious, and the more are these elements withdrawn from the reception of fresh impressions. Hence, the man of mature age is more disposed to elaborate and use what he already knows, than to apply himself to ac- quire new information or aptitudes, while the old man has almost entirely broken with the external world. He lives in the past rather than in the present. Therefore, the strength of the internal being of the soul, which increases as we grow older, ipse facto, produces a decrease in the formation of new sensations and perceptions. But still more follows from this fact. We are aware that the mobile elements consist of fresh primitive forces, and of such as have been partially modified by external stimuli (32), but also that the primitive forces are generated by some unknown transformation through the medium of partially modified forces ; that, consequently, the newly produced sensations and perceptions must be regarded as the special centre and labora- SEPARATION OF SOUL FROM BODY. 375 tory where fresh primitive forces are generated. What will be the consequence when the larger number of these primitive forces are spent in the excitation of those mental modifications which are now most numerous in vestiges, instead of being used (as heretofore) in the reception and assimilation of exter- nal stimuli ? There will be a corresponding decrease in the generation of fresh primitive forces. Consequently, it follows that, in proportion as a larger number of primitive forces are expended in the excitation of acquired mental modifications, both sources of the mobile elements are curtailed. External elements are taken up in a decreasing amount, and, as a conse- quence, fresh primitive forces are generated in a smaller amount. But more than that. It is an almost universal fact that old people complain of their poor memory. They have a com- plete and clear recollection of what they saw and did thirty, forty or fifty years ago, but they often forget what they saw and heard but yesterday. According to this, the primitive forces generated in old age are not only less in amount, but also less energetic or retentive. Thus each condition helps the other. External stimuli are taken up in continually decreasing numbers, and the body also, which has become rigid and brittle, is continuously less able to assist in the for- mation of new primitive forces. What other result, then, can follow, than that the mobile elements should constantly become less, and that the fresh primitive forces should become continually more and more imperfect f Now, if the primitive forces are the means by which the accumulated treasures of our soul, its acquired mental modi- fications, are rendered conscious, ought we to wonder that when they decrease the current of thought is less rapid, less comprehensive, or that at last the most cultivated soul retains in conscious existence but few mental modifications? This condition constitutes the idiocy of old age. It is, therefore, not in the least a consequence of any decrease in the strength of the inbeing of the soul — of the sum of its accumulated wealth ; but, on the contrary, it is an effect of the continually increasing strength of the soul Experience confirms this conclusion. It is told of Kant, 376 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. " that at the time of his greatest weakness, when he was unable to express himself intelligibly about the commonest tilings, he gave astonishingly correct and precise answers when ques- tioned about matters of physical geography, natural history and chemistry, as well as about learned subjects in general." Now, if the internal, the real being of his soul, had been affected by this weakness, how would such answers have been possible, especially on the physiological ground that the brain and whole body is continually renewed at certain periods of time ? Would not the oldest and the more difficult have been destroyed before the latest and the easiest? Yet we have seen that, notwithstanding Kant's extreme weakness in other re- spects, it was exactly the older and the most complex modi- fications that were manifested with their wonted strength and clearness, while he was unable to give any account of objects he had seen around him only a moment before, etc. This story clearly proves that the primitive forces last generated were very weak — so weak, indeed, that impressions just made were either not retained by them at all, or only so feebly that he could not attain to a consciousness of them. Few aged men retain their mental vigor up to the time of their death, because few enjoy so happy a constitution that no essential diminution in the elements which excite con- sciousness occurs. In most men who reach old age there is a progressive decrease in the power of appropriating external elements, because the sense organs become less and less able to perform their functions and to assist the soul in its work. We have, then, arrived at these conclusions : 1. Tliat the soul constantly increases in internal strength from birth to death. 2. That this very increase in strength produces a constant dimi- nution in the mobile elements ; and that, consequently, 3. The excitation to consciousness (not consciousness itself, 97, 98) is more arid more impeded, until at last, when the genera- tion of fresh primitive forces is brought to a stand-still by the same cause, it stops altogether, and the soul abandons the body, in the society of which it is no longer able to increase its powers, and, consequently, is unable to make any further SEPARATION OF SOUL FROM BODY. 377 progress. This is the death necessitated by nature. Death from disease requires no explanation. It is the result of the unfit- ness of the corporeal forces to longer sustain, as a necessary condition, the evolution of psychical forces. In both cases, however, the man dies, not because life (a general vital power) leaves him, but because the soul leaves the body, which, on that account, by no means ceases to live. What speaks for the continued existence of the soul after death ? The soul's con- stant increase and growth in strength up to its departure. The body grew and became strong in consequence of the increase in the number of its vestiges, and after having reached its prime gradually decreased again in strength. These changes are in accord with the laws of growth. An increase of the body's forces, unlike that of the soul, implies an increase in space ; and since the limit of its bulk is a given one (given at the first moment of its existence in the womb, as an inheritance from the parents), it necessarily follows that, as it never ceases to grow, that is, to form vestiges (as long as it lives), it must grow denser, must condensate so that its parti- cles, as they accumulate, press more closely one on the other; the different organs gradually grow harder, tougher, and even ossify, by which ossifying process the organs of nutrition are gradually diminished, and the capacity of forming fresh cor- poreal forces decreased. The final result of this change must be that the body becomes more and more unfit for the con- stantly growing soul, and a separation of the two must inev- itably follow — an event which is the necessary consequence of our constant growth, i. e., of the continuous generation of fresh vestiges both in soul and body. As the rising and setting of the sun is the result of one and the same law which re- volves the earth on its axis ; as summer and winter are pro- duced by the one immutable law which makes the earth revolve around the sun, so also the rise and decay of corporeal perfection depends on one and the self-same law, that of growth. Since this law incessantly operates in body and soul alike; since it never varies, never gives way to another; since, more- over, the chemical laws, to which " matter" is subject, remain invariably the same, it follows that the results must gradually 25 378 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. become more and more different. The body and soul grow asunder. "While the imjcliical forces have continually gained in strength and perfection, the corporeal have grown more and more dry, brittle, less elastic, coarser — in short, more and more unfit for psychical activities — which necessitates their dropping off and their final subjugation to the sole sway of chemical affinity. Now that their separation has been effected, is either of them destroyed? We know that not an atom of the body is lost. Why should the soul cease to exist? But how can those psychical forces (which we do not know otherwise than to originate and to grow in conjunction with material — corpo- real forces — a body) subsist without a body? How do we know that when these psychical forces leave the "material body" they are without a body? What has become of those "immaterial forces," without which material forces can never form a living being? (110,111). Is not force imperishable, whether material or immaterial ? If these immaterial forces were able and competent to mold the lowest material forces (in spite of their chemical affinities) into an harmonious organ- ism to serve as a medium for the development of psychical forces in this material world, it is quite likely that they will be sufficient also to supply them under conditions for which the " material forces " are no longer fit and suitable. There is no other way of escaping this proposition than to fall back upon the materialistic view that mind is a mere function of the brain ; and I hope to have sufficiently proven, in the physi- ological part of this w T ork, that such a view is possible only to a mind that is illogical enough to confound cause and con- dition. When the soul departs from the body it leaves as a perfectly organized being of immaterial forces, as fully substantial as any living bod^ ever was in this world, w^ith this difference only: It cannot be reached by any mechanical or chemical means of detection. It is then and there the same soul it w r as before, beautiful or ugly, good or bad, wise or foolish, corresponding exactly to the development which it has attained while associated with material forces. We are not yet done with this subject. PART VI. OCCULT PHENOMENA, 113. Sensitivity. By referring to paragraphs 5 and 82 it will be seen that I need here merely state that the psychic primitive forces of man vary greatly in their acuteness or sensitiveness, not only in different individuals, but also in the different systems of one and the same individual. In the paragraphs referred to I dealt only with the ordinary occurrences of daily life. Exceptional cases did not come within the scope of those researches. We needed a generally accepted basis for our infer- ences. But, as we shall presently see, the instances cited do not by any means cover the whole ground of our subject. Sight. — Gustavus Anschutz, an artist-painter, in Vienna, was able to see on dark nights luminous emanations, not only from magnets and crystals, but also from the face and hands of his wife. The drawings and paintings he made thereof corresponded precisely with the description given by numerous sensitive persons who had previously and inde- pendently observed such " od-emanations " from different objects hundreds of times, in the dark room which Baron von Reichenbach had constructed for the purpose of examining this strange subject. (See Reichenbach's Dynamiten, Vol. II, p. 33. Another well-authenticated case is the luminous figure which Billing, the secretary of Pfeffel, saw on dark nights in Pfeffel's garden, always in the same spot. No other person saw it. Upon digging into that place a skeleton was found (379) 380 OCCULT PHENOMENA. immersed in lime, and after the removal of all the debris (lime and bones), no luminous figure ever again appeared to Billing on that spot, although in church-yards he still continued to see similar luminous figures arising from certain graves. This single instance is corroborated by many (although not individually authenticated) stories of persons who have seen similar luminous emanations on dark nights in church-yards and other places. Popular superstition believes them to be ghosts while, in fact, they are od-emanations strongly developed by chemical processes, but still only visible, in the absence of other light, to very sensitive eyes. The numerous and elaborate works of Eeichenbach on this subject abound in experiments which he instituted and controlled, by change of time, persons and things in a thousand different ways, to prove that sensitive persons can and do see in utter darkness, and, therefore, are able to move about and to find and describe things with almost as much ease as in daylight. Before such overwhelming testimony little weight need be attached to the opinion of seven Berlin professors, who declared "that the experiments exhibited by Baron v. Eeichenbach had not proved to them what he intended to prove," for the simple reason that these savants, notwithstanding polite invitations, did not come to examine when, after great labor and difficul- ties, Eeichenbach was ready to give this proof. During this Berlin episode (1861 and 1862) Eeichenbach succeeded in pro- curing another objective proof of the reality of luminous od- emanation, by its action upon photographic plates. For further detail see Eeichenbach's " Od'sche Begehenheiten zu Berlin in den Jahren 1861-1862." Hearing, smell and taste. — There are a number of persons who cannot bear the noise produced by rubbing paper over paper or over a table, or a hand over silk, or of hard things upon each other. All kinds of scraping, scratching, grating and like sounds affect them most disagreeably. Miss Nowotny often listened to the poles of magnets. She compared the sound which she perceived to the sound of a tuning-fork just when it ceases to vibrate, or with the dying away of a sound from an iEolian harp. Miss Maix and Miss SENSITIVITY. 381 Sturmann perceived the same sound, but in an intermitting manner, the sounds and pauses repeating in regularly. Fric- tion applied to sulphur or glass or sealing-wax caused Miss . Nowotny to hear a fine hissing and crackling sound, a sound others could not perceive. (Reichenbach, Der sensitive Mensch, Vol. II., p. 458.) In regard to smell, we find the peculiarity of fine perception even more extended. Everybody, I might say, has met with persons who positively cannot endure the smell of some odors — odors, too, generally considered agreeable. Some faint away, some feel deathly sick at the stomach, some are seized with headache, etc., from being exposed to the effluvia of certain things (flowers, leather, metals, etc.). There are persons who can distinguish the different metals by the sense of smell alone (chromic acid, even through a her- metically closed glass bottle) ; who recognize their friends by smell, and distinguish a healthy from a sick person ; who assert — and their assertion has been put to the test — that the north pole of the magnet has an acid, while the south pole has a disagreeable alkaline smell. A lady, 23 years of age, could not approach a table upon which a rock-crystal was lying, still less could she touch the crystal, on account of its disagreeable smell. (Internationale Horn. Zeitung, Vol. IV, 1874, p. 225, Dr. G. Proll). A lady, 38 years of age, was able to smell the rock-crystal and several other minerals. (Ibid.) A lady, about 40 years of age, robust and healthy, could never touch a rock-crystal without experiencing a painful sensation, and she disliked it on account of its disagreeable odor. (Ibid.) A consideration of the sense of taste yields similar results. Some persons have a decided disgust for certain things (eggs, butter, etc.). In general, according to Reichenbach, sen- sitive persons prefer acidulated to sweet or fatty things. There are persons who immediately taste it when food has been cooked or prepared in metallic vessels ; and in some even un- pleasant sensations arise in the tongue when they hold metals in their hands. I have met with patients who -could at once detect sulphur by the taste when a few globules of the thirtieth or even a higher potency of that substance was put on their 382 OCCULT PHENOMENA. tongue, and the same experience has been confirmed by the observation of a number of homoeopathic physicians. Vital senses. — The sense of general feeling is with some persons exceedingly fine. They not only feel all negative od-emana- tions as cool and pleasant, and all positive od-emanations as lukewarm and oppressive, when in their immediate presence, but they feel them even at a distance and through thick walls. As, however, this general sense of feeling is variously inter- woven with sensations which originate in the sympathetic system, and a distinction between them is oftentimes impossible (com- pare 72 and 73), I shall treat of the phenomena related to one or the other or to both under the common title of vital se7ises. In Zschokke's Selbstschau, p. 237, we find the following remark- able instances of rhabdomancy. " Persons endowed with the mysterious gift of nature to perceive by a peculiar sensation the presence of water, metals and other fossils underneath the surface of the earth, are found almost in any of the cantons of Switzerland. I have known several of them, and have tried their wonderful sensitiveness. The Abbot of the Monastery St. Urban (Canton Luzerne), Ambrosius Glutz, a scientifically edu- cated prelate, was one of them. But Katharine Beutler, from Thurgau, surpassed in this sensitivity all others of whom I had heard, even Pennet, Campetti and others. I led her, on several occasions, in company with a friend of hers, into regions un- known to both, where, however, to my knowledge, subterranean layers of salt, ore, sweet water canals, etc., were situate. In no instance was she misled by her miraculous sensitiveness. This young woman was healthy, strong, and not at all a nervous or hysterical person. She would in many instances describe the peculiar sensations she had when near certain minerals. Gypsum, for instance, produced in her a spasmodic contraction of the muscles of the throat ; coal, a sensation of w r armth in her body ; sulphur, a similar, but yet different sensation, which she could not clearly define ; salt, perspiration on the lower arms and salty taste; anhydrite, stinging on the tongue as from pepper ; alum, cold, etching water on the upper teeth ; marl, burning in the stomach ; water, & sensation as of a column of water rising in the body and falling down again drop by drop; copper, a feeling of warm, bitter water in the mouth ; arsenicum, an unpleasant, strong beating in the head ; silver, strong pinch- ing in the intestines, etc." SENSITIVITY. 666 In the Interned. Horn. Presse, Vol. IV, p. 212, Dr. Gustav Proll details ten cases of sensitive persons, some of whom were cured and others improved by the use of the Gastein hot springs. One of them was a seamstress, thirty years of age, who had been ailing in different ways for many years. Being destitute of means to pay for baths and board, Dr. Proll took her in his house, and allowed her to do some nominal work for him, such as dusting his book-cases, tables, cases for mineral collections, etc. One day, when occupied in this work, the girl gave a sudden shriek. Hastening to see what was the matter, the doctor found her in a drooping position, with tears in her eyes and nictitation of the eyelids. Her face was pale and distorted, and her body writhing with pain. She was speechless and unconscious. After shaking her arms (her right arm with his left, and her left with his right hand) she gradu- ally recovered, and upon being asked what had befallen her, she said : " That stone there has given me so much pain," point- ing to a beautiful rock-crystal (quartz composed of a six-sided pyramid and a six-sided prism), which had been presented to the doctor the previous evening. The moment she undertook to lift the crystal, in order to brush off the dust underneath it, she felt something like a violent blow in her hand, which ran up the arm so painfully that she had to cry out. The pain spread all over her body, but was felt most in the pit of the stomach, when she sank down. On being requested by the doctor to again touch the crystal, she commenced crying and begged to be excused, as even the smell of the stone was so very disagreeable to her. This the doctor seemed to doubt, but on bringing the crystal near to her nose, she again (with the same symptoms, except the shriek) fell to the floor. On the following day the doctor determined to test the woman's veracity. He carefully wrapped the crystal in cotton and laid it in a little closed box. In order to prevent her from becoming suspicious about the box, he handed the box and a book to her, telling her to take both book and box to a gentleman whom he named. She took book and box without the slightest suspicion, and went to do his bidding, but before she reached the door she slowly fell to the floor without a 384 OCCULT PHENOMENA. shriek. The doctor brought her to by shaking her arms and removing the crystal. On the following day the doctor wished to ascertain what kind of influence other minerals would have upon her. He opened his mineral case in her presence. The smell alone proceeding from these minerals affected her so powerfully that she came near fainting. She had to withdraw to the farthest corner of the room. By bringing the minerals one by one to her, the doctor found that all stones that were interspersed with little rock-crystals nauseated her even at a distance; while a calc-spar, which looked externally very much like a rock-crystal, did not affect her unpleasantly at all. At night, in total darkness, she saw bluish flames emanate from the rock-crystal. There were several other minerals which by their smell affected her unpleasantly ; others she was indiff- erent to. A non-crystallized so-called "milk-quartz" had a very pleasant effect upon her. She said this particular speci- men smelt good, and made her strong. She kept holding it in her hand, and after the doctor had finished replacing the minerals, he found her fast asleep in a standing position. Her breathing was deeper than usual ; her face had a quiet expression ; her pulse was slow and she spoke indistinctly in her sleep. The usual means of rousing her, however, had no effect. Calling loudly her name, sprinkling cold water in her face, shaking her body, etc., were of no avail. Not until the doctor shook her arms with his opposite hands did she awake, looking around astonished. She had had a pleasant dream, of which, however, she could remember nothing. A few days afterward two esteemed medical professors had the opportu- nity to convince themselves of the truth of the above-stated facts. Once this girl could not eat her meal, although she felt hungry, and there was nothing in her throat to prevent swal- lowing. The doctor could not detect any reason, nor she give any. Finally he observed that her back was turned toward the south. He at once placed her w T ith her back toward the north. She then ate quickly and without hinderance, although she did not have the slightest inkling of what the change of position meant, nor indeed any idea of north and south. On SENSITIVITY. 385 the following day the doctor had four chairs placed in the exact direction of south, north, east and west. He ordered her to do some work and sit alternately for a time first on the one and then on the other chairs. In no direction did she feel comfortable, except when turning her back toward the north. She felt worst when turning her back toward the south. The doctor frequently sent her to the woods to gather flowers for him. Once she came home crying, and said that she could not bring any blue flowers, but only yellow ones, because she could not bear the sight of blue, while yellow was very pleasant to her. Later she bore the sight of blue equally as well as yellow. During the first week of her stay at the doctor's house, she became suddenly nauseated if any person happened to stand behind her looking in the same direction she did. This nausea also disturbed her if anyone stood or sat on her right side. If the doctor looked with his right eye into her right, or with his left into her left eye, she experienced an unpleas- ant sensation in the eye looked into, while the look of the op- posite eye she bore quite well. This sensitiveness, however, gradually diminished as her health began to improve by the judicious use of baths at Gastein. When she at last entirely recovered, she came to the normal standard of common sensi- tivity. A young woman, of about 29 years of age, fell twelve years before, striking upon the back of her head. Since that time she had suffered greatly from spasms of a peculiar kind. She came to Gastein ; and on taking a rock-crystal into her hand at once felt such a violent pain that under no consideration could she be persuaded to touch it a second time. This effect was much lessened, however, if the crystal was wrapped in a handkerchief before it was handed to her, or if she handled it with gloves on. At night she saw the rock-crystal shine and emit a bluish flame, and in order that she might carry the mineral without touching it, she had a handle made for it and used it as a night-lamp. Whenever this patient held her face over a point of the crystal she smelled a stupefying odor. She, too, recovered at Gastein, and when her recovery was 386 OCCULT PHENOMENA. complete the crystal no longer shone or gave forth odors for her." The celebrated chemist, Berzelius, in company with v. Rei- chenbach and Dr. Hochberger, made, in 1845, in Carlsbad, the following experiment upon a sensitive lady, von Seckendorf. They spread a large number of chemical preparations wrapped in paper upon a table, and asked her to slowly move the palm of her right hand over these small parcels. In performing this movement she experienced different sensations, derived from the several parcels. Some would produce a kind of drawing sensation in her hand, which others did not. Being asked to separate the different parcels according to the different sensations produced, into two rows, " the author of the electro- chemical system was absolutely struck with astonishment when he found that in the row which produced a drawing sensation none but electro-positive, and in the row which had no such influence, none but electro-negative bodies were discovered. The separation of these many parcels into positive and nega- tive minerals was complete ; and what had required a whole century of the greatest industry and sagacity to elaborate, the classification of chemical bodies into their natural electrical series, was effected by this sensitive person in ten minutes, through the simple guidance of her sensations." (Reichen- bach : Aphorismen uber Sensitivitat und Od, 7, 8. Wien, 1866. Der sensitive Mensch, I, 706. Stuttgart, 1854.) We see that the primitive psychic forces of some persons are influenced by stimuli so subtle that the majority of men, ordinarily constituted, are not capable of perceiving them. Have these influences, then, no existence because they are experienced only by a minority? Is this minority to be dis- believed because a majority whose senses are of a duller make do not confirm the minority's findings ? We might as well ask does light not exist, because the blind cannot see ? Do the various colors have no existence, simply because the color- blind do not perceive certain shades ? That the stimuli of any kind be perceived, it is necessary that the stimuli find forces upon which they can act, which they can influence. Without the qualification of an organism to perceive them, stimuli SENSITIVITY. 387 would have no existence for that organism, notwithstanding the reality of the stimuli. It follows that it would be an illogi- cal inference to conclude that because this or that person, or even a hundred persons, cannot perceive a certain influence, that the influence does not exist. The quality of perceiving other stimuli than those which affect all commonly endowed primitive forces we shall call sensitivity. No one has so well investigated this obscure subject as Reichenbach ; and, accord- ing to his observations, the number of sensitive persons is much larger than an occasional observer would suppose. Neither is it true that only sickly persons are thus peculiarly constituted. Among the list of his sensitives are quite a num- ber of healthy and robust persons. (Compare Reichenbach : Der sensitive Mensch.) In the year 1883, April 24th, a committee of the Societ} 7 for Psychical Research gave the following opinion on Rei- chenbach's researches on the visibility of magnet-emana- tions in a dark room : " The committee feel at least justified in recording: Firstly, that three observers, separately, on dis- tinct occasions, were in some way immediately aware when an electro-magnet was secretly ' made ' and ' unmade,' under such precautions as were devised to suppress ordinary means of knowing, and to exclude chance and deception ; and identified such magnetization by luminous appearances which, as described, agreed generally with the evidence re- corded by Reichenbach. Secondly, that there were, though less directly, indications of other sensory effects of magnetism. In view of these apparent confirmations of previous testimony, the committee incline to the opinion that, among other un- known phenomena associated with magnetism, there is a prima facia case for the existence, under conditions not yet deter- mined, of a peculiar and unexplained luminosity resembling phosphorescence, in the region immediately around the mag- netic poles, and visible only to certain individuals." (Proc. S. P. R., Vol. I, Part III, p. 236.) 388 occult phenomena. 114. Muscle-reading, Mind-reading, Thought- transference. The preceding facts lead us naturally to the consideration of what has become universally known under the name mind- reading. The so-called faculty of mind-reading has been ex- hibited on the stage by showmen (Brown, Bishop, Cumberland and others), and has been introduced into the family circle as a play under the name willing -game. It consists in this : A person is selected to "guess." He goes into another room while the company agrees upon a subject or object concerning which the person shall be made to "guess " — either to select a particular card or object in the room, or to execute some particular action. When the guesser, blindfolded, comes back into the room, he is taken hold of by one or two of the company by his hands or touched lightly upon his shoulders, while the rest concentrate their thoughts intently upon the . thing or action to be guessed. A sensitive person usually finds it easy to " guess " rightly, so that it appears as though he had been able to read the minds of the company. But the term " mind-read- ing" is undoubtedly a badly chosen expression, if by mind- reading it is intended to give a clear insight into the pro- cesses thus described, and often executed with striking results. Thinking minds soon discovered that there was very little, if any, mind-reading in most of these performances. The best description of the process I know of is that given by Rev. E. H. Sugden, B. Sc, in the Proceedings of the S. P. R., Vol. I, Part IV, p. 291. He says: "About six months ago I was led to try a few experiments in so-called thought-reading, as exhibited by Stuart Cumberland, and I was very soon con- vinced that all that he had done, and much more, could be effected by careful interpretation of muscular indications." " Character of the experiments. — They include the discovery of persons thought of in the audience and articles worn by them ; the finding of pins and other hidden articles ; the read- ing of the numbers of bank-notes, both by means of tickets with the ten digits printed on them and placed on a table, and by writing the numbers on a blackboard; the localization of MUSCLE-READING, MIND-READING, ETC. 389 following a track chalked out on the floor ; and other similar tests. It will be observed that in all these cases the thought discovered is a thought involving either motion in a definite direction, or a definite point in space, the position of which has been indicated by movements. "Modus operandi. — The subject was directed to concentrate his whole attention on the person, number, etc., thought of. I (of course, blindfolded), took his left hand, as being more auto- matic than the right; then, if the object was to find some person or thing in the room, I walked somewhat rapidly in fron^ of my patient, following the indications he gave, until the person or thing was reached. If the number of a bank- note was to be discovered, I moved the patient's hand rapidly to and fro over the figured cards on the table until I found where it most contentedly rested, so obtaining the five figures in succession; or else laid his right hand upon the back of my own, and, following his indications, wrote the figures succes- sively on a blackboard. In localizing a pain, the patient's hand was rapidly passed over his body until some preferential point was discovered. I found, further, that for the large scale experiments it was quite enough to have a walking-stick between myself and the patient, he holding one end and my- self the other. Indeed, I have succeeded occasionally with only a piece of thin wire as a connective. " In all cases muscular indication was all that I used. I never had any thought borne in upon my mind, or any image pro- duced there ; there was no genuine thought-reading. I simply followed muscular signs. These varied much in clearness and force. Sometimes the subject positively did all the work, leading me to the place, writing the figures and so on, while I was as passive as possible. In such cases I have often gone on to write words or sentences upon the board under their guid- ance, but such instances were rare. As a rule, I had to make a careful estimate of the muscular resistance in each direction, and follow the line of least resistance until the place was reached, or the figure so far shaped as to be recognizable. Then the indications became much more positive. "Failures and their causes. — I failed more or less completely in about one case in four on an average. Probably the fail- ures would have been fewer if I had had ladies as my patients, as I have always, in private experiments, found them very good subjects. In every case of failure where inquiry could be made sufficient reason was discovered. The most usual cause was determination not to allow the thing to be done, the patient having an idea that it was a question of 390 OCCULT PHENOMENA. his will being conquered by mine, and so braced himself up to resist. Occasionally persons came forward determined to thwart me, either because they thought it was all 'humbug,' or because they considered the phenomena to be due to spirit- ualistic agencies. When the subject had a financial interest in the experiment, I found success to be very difficult to obtain. Boys, as a rule, I found to be impracticable subjects, possibly because they found it impossible to concentrate their thoughts intently while facing a large audience. I soon found out, too, that persons with cold, dry hands were never so easy to deal with as those with warm, moist hands. " The experience of the 'patients. — It is most important to note that in almost all cases the question was asked : ' Did you give me any indication of what you were thinking about?' and the answer was invariably, ' No, not the least.' The whole was done without any consciousness, and often in spite of a resolution to be quite passive. This should be remem- bered whenever contact has been allowed in supposed genuine experiments in thought-reading. The assurance of the person who is in contact with the thought-reader that he gave him no indication is absolutely worthless. The most respectable and trustworthy persons have, over and over again, assured me that they have never moved their hand, when I have known that they have simply used my hand as a pen, and have written with it and the chalk it held, using far more effort than they would if the chalk had been in their own fingers. It should be further noted that contact w T ith my hand is not necessary. I have succeeded in finding a person thought of in a room when the patient's hand was simply laid upon my forehead or upon my shoulders. The result of my experience would lead me to doubt any case of alleged thought-reading where contact of any kind had been allowed. " One or two observations, bearing on the unconscious action of the mind, may be recorded. I noticed very often that when an article had been hidden in one place, and then transferred to another, my patient almost invariably took me first to the first place, and then after a short search there suddenly went off to the right place. The same sort of thing has happened in the case of figures. If the figure has been changed, the one first thought of came out first, only to be declared wrong. Once in writing a bank-note number I could get nothing but twos ; they were declared to be wrong ; 1 but,' said the patient, ' there were twos on another part of the note which I particularly noticed.' This is of interest as bearing on the well-known fact, that in so-called spiritualistic MUSCLE-READING, MIND-READING, ETC. 391 revelations the things told are things which the questioner has possibly even forgotten, but which have once been in his mind. I also found that it is difficult for the mind to avoid trans- ferring itself from one thing to another like it. In finding pins, etc., 1 have often been led, not to the right place, but to a place similar to it ; as, e. g., the pin has been in one corner of the room, and I have gone to the other; or it has been in some one's pocket, and almost every pocket that I came near has had to be searched. One case was very singular. The pin had been hidden in the heel of a man's boot, under the instep. I was at once taken to a man near the platform, and got down to his boot-heel and to the very spot where the pin really was, but in another man's boot. I could get no further with that ' subject,' but, on taking another, I at once found the right man and the pin in his boot-heel. " I may add, finally, that I have no special power in this direction. I have rarely found anyone who could not pretty readily succeed in performing any of these experiments after a very little practice, and even on the first attempt if they had confidence." This clear exposition of self-experienced and self-executed experiments is sufficient to establish the fact that the kind of mind-reading or thought-reading usually exhibited by showmen or introduced in family circles as a pastime, is indeed no mind- reading at all, but merely muscle-reading. It does not require " a special power in this direction," as the reverend gentleman correctly observes, but merely a fine sensitivity of the muscu- lar sense and some practice. However, such experiments do not do away with or explain the deeper researches which the committee of the S. P. R., of London, on thought-reading have instituted, and which they have executed so exceedingly well. This committee consisted of Edmund Gurney, M. A , F. W. H. Myers, M. A., and Professor of Physics W. F. Barrett. They preferred to designate the group of phenomena which they had under examination as thought-transference, instead of " thought-reading," and came to the conclusion that thought- transference is " the mental perception, by certain individuals, at certain times, of a word or other object kept vividly before the mind of another person or other persons, without any transmission or impression through the recognized channels of sense" (Pro- 392 OCCULT PHENOMENA. ceedings of the S. P. R., Vol. I, Part II, p. 70.) This defini- tion, of course, excludes muscle-reading and all guessing from gestures, signs or other collusions. In fact, the committee have guarded the experiments with such exceeding care against everything which in any way could impair the purity of the results, that the most rigid scrutiny cannot say ought against them. The phenomena under examination were such as " where a number, name, word or card has been guessed and expressed in speech or writing, without contact, and ap- parently without the possibility of the transmission of the idea by the ordinary channels of sensation." (Professor W. F. Bar- rett, Proceedings of the S. P. R., Vol. I, p. 18.) To these experiments others were added afterward, in which a simple geometrical or other kind of figure, of which the percipient could not possibly have received any kind of knowledge, was drawn off-hand by some one of the committee. The original drawings and their reproductions by the percipient have been published in the Proceedings from the authentical drawings photographed and transferred to the wood-blocks. To detail here all these experiments is unnecessary and lies entirely out- side of the scope of this work. I can merely refer to the Pro- ceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, Vol. I, Parts I-VII. These experiments were not all successes; but the failures are also recorded, and these latter are in many respects as valuable as the reports of successes. We can now consider the question which, at this point, con- cerns us most : How is a word or other object, kept vividly before the mind of a person or persons (the agent), transmitted to the mind of another person (the percipient), otherwise than through some of the recognized channels of sense. In other words : How can a conscious modification in one person (the agent) excite into consciousness a like modification in another person (the percipient) without taking its course through some one of the recognized channels of sense ? To simplify this question, let us ask first: How do uncon- scious modifications in us become excited into consciousness in one and the same person ? We have dwelt upon this pro- cess at length in several parts of this work. The surest and THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. 393 never- failing way is the excitation by external stimuli. The corresponding stimulus finds and joins the already acquired vestiges, from like or similar stimuli, and excites them into motion or consciousness (12). But, beside this mode of excitation into consciousness (a mode carefully excluded from what the committee called thought-transference), we know of two other means by which latent modifications are excited into consciousness : The fresh primi- tive forces, and those which have been only partially modi- fied by general stimuli. (Compare 13.) The first variety are of an active, living nature, constituting the will-power of man, and cause all voluntary excitation into consciousness; the second partaking of the nature of both, of the conative primi- tive forces and of the external stimuli ; one office of which is to cause involuntary excitations. They are active, living forces, and are so modified by external stimuli that they act according to the law of the attraction of like to like, and will associate with vestiges of a more or less similar make and rouse them into excitation. These three modes of excitation into consciousness are active constantly in the waking soul, and partially also during sleep. They constitute the activity of our mental life. What has all this to do with thought-transference ? A great deal, as we shall presently see. If the recipient guesses cor- rectly a w^ord, name or number w r hich the agent looks at fixedly, and holds in his mind vividly, what does that mean? Nothing more than that the mental modification so vividly excited in the agent becomes also excited in the mind of the percipient. It is a perception roused into consciousness by the vivid excitation of a similar object in another person's mind. It is therefore a process w T hich similarly and constantly occurs in our own minds, and even with the same accuracy or inaccuracy in the agent. If I perceive an object by any of the senses dimly, it will rouse a correspondingly dim mental modi- fication. I may mistake a perfect stranger for an old acquaint- ance. I may not be able to find the right word or a name at all, however sure I am that I know it, and exert myself to utter it, although it may " dance upon my tongue " in the 394 OCCULT PHENOMENA. shape of similar or totally different names. We see all these features presented in cases of thought-transference. Thus we read in the Proceedings, pp. 163 and 164 : " In some of the less accurate reproductions, Mr. Blackburn (the agent) complained of the difficulty he had in keeping the original drawing stead- ily in his mental view ; and on one or two occasions we asked Mr. Blackburn to draw his recollection of the picture simul- taneously with Mr. Smith (the percipient) (the two, of course, b*ing kept out of sight of each other). We found that the main errors in Mr. Smith's reproductions existed already in Mr. Blackburn's recollections of the drawing." We also find on p. 273: "When the object has not been first shown, but is only thought of, success seems to depend upon the vividness of each person's mental picture." In short, a dim perception in the agent will rouse only a dim perception in the per- cipient. " Or the percipient guesses, instead of Barnard, first Har- land and then Barnard ; for Bellairs, Humphreys, Ben Nevis, Benaris; for Johnson, Jobson, Johnson ; for Wissenschaft, Wissie, Wissenaft " (see Proceedings, p. 80) ; all examples (and many more illustrations like these can be found in the experiments of the committee) which prove that, instead of fully alike, frequently only similar modifications are excited into con- sciousness in the percipient's mind. Sometimes the percipient has " to give it up," because no definite modification presents itself to his mind, or he makes a " guess " entirely wrong, from some impression which is not at all connected with the agent's mind, but may be entirely a product of the unconscious work- ing of the percipient's own mind. Occasionally the idea or name of the object did not come at first to the percipient, but the appearance seemed to dawn gradually upon the mind, and sometimes it only presented itself in its general features, so that often the object could only be described, but not named. First the color impression was received, then the general shape, and afterward any special characteristic, and finally the name. As an illustration, take the case of a blue feather. The "subject" said, " It is pale. It looks like a leaf; but it cannot be a leaf; it looks like a feather curled — Is it a feather?" THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. d^O Again, a key was described as " a little tiny thing with a ring at one end and a flag at the other, like a toy flag." Urged to name it, she said, " It is ver}' like a key." (Guthrie, Vol. I, Part V, p. 27.) These facts evidently prove that the concrete thing, looked at by the agents and fixed in their minds, aroused gradually the corresponding modifications in the mind of the percipient ; and not until all the particular characteristics of this thing had been excited into consciousness could the per- cipient add also the name. The first modifications were those of ^(//^-reproductions, and the later of sound; which is just exactly the same order in which the mental modification of either a " feather" or a " key " had originated in her mind. The con- crete perception of sight-stimuli produced the first mental modifications of either key or feather, and the sound-stimuli " feather or key " (different in different languages) were added to it afterward. The process would have been entirely dif- ferent had the " agents " kept vividly before their minds the sound-modifications " feather or key ; " then the names would have been guessed first, and the sight-modifications would have remained either indefinite or entirely unconscious, according to the various shades in which these sight-modifications existed in the minds of the agents at that time. Again, " anxiety to secure success on the part of the subject of experiment is nearly always fatal and always prejudicial; and hence the little trepidation that exists when set trials are made, or trials before strangers, tells most unfavorably upon the results of experiments. We found that casual experiments, made when the subject was under no restraint, gave very satisfactory results, albeit on such occasions our precautions to avoid erroneous convictions w T ere in no way relaxed." (E. Gurney, Proc, Vol. I, p. 70.) On the other hand, " it would appear that any mental dis- turbance on the part of the operators or on the part of the ' subjects,' due to anxiety to succeed, or to the novelty of the entourage of persons or things, very much interferes with the success of experiments. I may here remark that the result of our experience is that success or failure depends as much (if not more) upon the condition of the agent as upon that of the 390 OCCULT PHENOMENA. percipient. It has happened that after a complete failure before strangers, the agent and percipient have been almost immedi- ately able to obtain a successful transference of a number of impressions, the previous failure having probably been due to the mind of the agent occupying itself with the presence of the visitors, instead of being directed exclusively upon the object to be described. As regards the condition of the agent, I may say that although I have been very successful myself in giving impressions to each of the ' subjects ' without the presence of any other person, still, under precisely similar conditions, when I have not felt equal to the required effort of concentration, I have been unable to repeat the success. We have also found that wandering thoughts on the part of the agent are misleading. Experiments, therefore, before a large miscellaneous company are not likely to be successful." (Guthrie, Proc, Vol. I, Part V, pp. 27 and 28). What does all this prove ? It proves that " thought-transfer- ence " succeeds or fails under the same conditions as the exci- tation of certain mental modifications succeed or fail in our daily mental life. Anyone who has bestowed the slightest amount of observation upon himself will know how internal as well as external disturbances hinder the easy flow of excita- tions in his own mind. There is still to be mentioned another peculiar feature of these experiments on " thought-transference," and that is, that the excitations in each particular sense (sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste) are reproduced in the percipient by their similar sensations. This fact shows that the law of attraction of like to like even here is the ruling agent. We may, then, safely affirm that the reproductions roused in a percipient occur by reason of the same laws and are hin- dered or assisted by the same conditions as the usual excitations into consciousness in our own minds. But how can such excitation be transmitted from one mind into another mind? That is the question. So long as the excitation into consciousness takes place in one and the same mind, it can easily be accounted for as the consequence of the existing connection between the single modifications among THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. 397 themselves. But how can a mental modification which is agitated in the mind of one person, excite in the mind of another person corresponding similar modifications into a like agitation ? To remove the difficulty of understanding this occult pro- cess we have first to remove preconceived notions regarding the real nature of the human soul itself. These notions or ideas are of two kinds, materialistic and spiritualistic. The materialistic view is of the notion that soul-action is simply a process of brain-action. Without brain there is no soul, and, conse- quently, all phenomena which cannot be explained by the theory of molecular movements of nervous matter (of which, indeed, they know nothing), are either unconscious cerebra- tion, or imagination, or superstition, or collusion, fraud and criminal deception. I shall not attempt at this place to re- fute the falsity of these coarse notions, but refer the reader to the physiological part of this work, in which the erroneous position taken by the materialists has been disproved. By spiritualistic notions I do not understand modern spiritualism, but that old psychological view which consid ered the soul as a purely simple, uncompounded being, en- dowed with certain abstract faculties or powers, such as a faculty of perception, of understanding, of reason, of will, etc., which create the several single perceptions, concepts, infer- ences, desires, volitions and will-acts. « It is clear that with such notions firmly rooted in the mind we cannot approach our subject on any side ; for with the materialistic view soul-action must cease where the brain ceases ; and with the spiritualistic view there is no understand- able means of explaining how the power of reason or will could ever create such modifications in another person as were present in the mind of an operator in the experiments cited. If we want to consider this subject understandingly we must necessarily drop both these notions. The soul is neither mere brain-matter, nor is it a nondescript something possessed of imaginary powers. Tlie soul actually co?isists of its different systems of substantial primitive forces. These forces must not be understood to mean forces in the same sense as light, 398 OCCULT PHENOMENA. electricity, etc., are spoken of as forces. That would be an erro- neous understanding of the term as we employ it. The primi- tive forces are real psychical substances, and are quite as real as any material substance. (Compare 109, on Force and Mat- ter, and 110, on Soul and Body.) By the action of correspond- ing stimuli these primitive forces develop, as we have shown throughout this work, into the different mental modifications of greater or less strength or clearness of consciousness, in the proportion as their vestiges are multiplied by similar im- pressions. These modifications never gain anything in space. They are and remain spaceless. When we speak of psychic forces we must then discard our notions of space. The ac- quired mental modifications constitute the treasure of our mental development; but we are conscious of only a very small fraction of this treasure at a time. Incomparably the greatest portion of our mental acquisitions lie dormant in un- consciousness. Any of them may, however, under favorable conditions, be excited into consciousness. The exciting ele- ments, as has been stated before, are either external stimuli, or primitive forces partially modified by external stimuli, or lastly, void, unoccupied primitive forces; all of which we have described under the name of mobile elements, because they are constantly flowing from modification to modification during our waking state, and sometimes also during sleep. Now, as the excitation of a particular modification in the "recipient" ensues exactly in the same manner and under the same conditions as in our own minds, it is but logical to assume that the modification is also produced by the same means — the mobile elements. Of the methods of excitation into consciousness the external stimuli have been most rigidly excluded by the committee. Thus only (a) partially modified and (b) void primitive forces remain to be considered. Of these, the class of primitive forces partially modified by exter- nal stimuli is undoubtedly the most potent agent which brings about the apparently obscure phenomena of which we speak, and they are fully competent for the task. They command all the requirements for the occasion. In the first place, they possess the naturally active, moving principle of the primitive THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. 399 forces ; secondly, they are so fully charged with the peculiar character of those specific external elements which excite the particular modification now vividly before the mind of the " agent," that they, by the law of attraction of like to like, strike and excite also the corresponding modification in the mind of the " percipient," because, thirdly, they are spaceless, as are all psychic forces, and consequently not restricted by any cor- poreal distance or interference, so that they can reach a similar psychic modification in another mind, as well as in their own, and impart to it their own state of excitement and make it con- scious. The free or void primitive forces no doubt likewise exercise a considerable influence in this process of transference, inasmuch as they constitute the willing in the agent to con- centrate his attention to the one particular modification which is to be transferred. But the excitation of the similar modifi- cation in the mind of the percipient no doubt ensues princi- pally by reason of the action of the partially modified primi- tive forces, which, by the law of the attraction of like to like, find their similars and impart to them their own peculiar state of excitation. That psychical, or spaceless (or as we have called them immaterial, 109) forces are not hemmed in by cor- poreal distances and interpositions in this process, is clearly proved by the experiments of the committee. (Proceedings, Vol. I, Part I, p. 37 and other places.) The percipient was placed in another room, and yet the impressions from the agent were transferred to him all the same. This is altogether a different genus of forces from those we are accustomed to call material, and with which we think we are so thoroughly acquainted, because we can weigh and measure them ! What a coarse inference in the face of proofs which clearly show that not one-half of these facts could be understood without the assumption of psychical forces ! On the other hand, what a superficial inference in the face of facts which clearly show that even the susceptibility to the various different influences varies immeasurably in different individuals ! That this sus- ceptibility changes even in the case of thought-transference has also been proven by the committee, when Professor Bar- rett says on page 78 in the Proceedings: "The fact seems to be 400 OCCULT PHENOMENA. (and the children of the Creery family themselves are regret- fully conscious of it) that the capacity is gradually leaving them — a fresh illustration of the fleeting character which seems to attach to this and other forms of abnormal sensi- tiveness." I think we have now in our hands all the points needed for explaining the apparently occult process of "thought-trans- ference." It requires first a fine susceptibility for psychical influences on the part of the "percipient," and a clear and vivid excitation into consciousness of the mental modification to be transmitted on the part of the "agent." The suscepti- bility of the percipient varies in degree, not only in different persons, but also at times in the same person, and anxiety, exhaustion or uncomfortableness of any description interfere decidedly with the success of experiments. In a like manner success is impeded or frustrated if the "agent" is mentally agitated by things foreign to the excitation of the mental modification which is to be transmitted. The nature of thought- transference consists essentially in the excitation of the modi- fication in the recipient, similar to the one excited in the "agent," and is effected by mobile elements, and principally by primitive forces partially modified or charged with external stimuli. Void primitive forces determine the concentration of the mind to the modification which is to be transferred. The mobile elements (as all soul-forces are spaceless) do not move in the sense of corporeal forces from place to place; theirs is an attraction of like to like, independent of corporeal distances or interpositions. Although the soul needs and uses and builds up a corporeal mechanism in order to live and thrive in the material world, yet its conscious manifestations are all spaceless. We can never place any of our thoughts in this or that or another part of the brain, no matter how lively our mental modifications may appear, vanish and be exchanged for others. They are purely spaceless excitations according to their connections and similarity, but never manifest any kind of moving from this to that or another cerebral organ, or place ; and if I could ever con- ceive anything of the nature of a fourth dimension, it is this ac- tion of psychical forces, independent of space, as it discloses itself ANIMAL MAGNETISM, ETC. 401 to self-observation, which would bring it nearest to my com- prehension. If the fourth dimension is, according to Zollner, a necessary consequence of mathematical reasoning, in the space- less action of psychical forces we might find the only semblance to its nature that is accessible to our observation. It is this action of psychic forces, independent of space, which alone makes the occult process of " thought-transference " compre- hensible. As spaceless forces they are not restricted by space or bodies in space. Their action is outside the limitations of space, just as they themselves lie entirely out of the reach of any and all mechanical and chemical means of detection. We must disabuse ourselves of the common mode of thinking, that motion of psychical forces is a traversion of space, if we want to understand the transference of thought from one person to another. It is not a transference in space, but an excitation of psychical modifications by means of similar primitive soul-forces, partially modified by corresponding stimuli, which are spaceless themselves and for which there exists no space. 115. Mesmerism, Animal Magnetism, Tellurism, Hypnotism, Statuvolism. In describing these subjects I shall make use of the words of the several authors of the systems. Mesmer says in his work, edited bv Wolfart, Berlin, 1814, p. 17: " An invariable observation of all nations has formed a general belief in the influence or action of the greater celes- tial bodies, and especially of the sun and the moon upon the earth. The people observe in vegetation, in fermentation, in animals and also in diseases, a regular, mutual process corre- sponding to the constellation and interaction of these bodies. " Not at all disposed to detest and reject these views as antiquated notions, I endeavored to discover the real cause of these effects in nature. It appeared to me at last that this cause was similar to that which manifests itself in the magnet. Numerous observations and experiments justified this pre- sumption, and I became more and more convinced that the animal body was capable of receiving an energy which, by 402 OCCULT PHENOMENA. virtue of a reciprocal action and counteraction in the midst of an unlimited and uninterrupted body of matter, the all-flood (' Allfluth'), makes itself sensible to all that surrounds it, even to the action of the most distant bodies. I believe I may call this kind of influence ' nature's magnetism' or natural mag- netism. " Just as the property of the magnet may be excited and increased in iron and steel by certain manoeuvres (so that it be- comes a true magnet), so have I found the means to augment in me the natural magnetism to such a degree that I am able to produce phenomena which are analogous to those of the magnet. In the same way as the natural heat by certain operations may be produced and augmented to a mode (tone) of motion by which fire is produced, so also has the natural magnetism become a kind of invisible fire, which communi- cates itself to other animate and inanimate things, by the continuity of certain series of the all-flood to immeasurable distances. I am, therefore, able to excite this fire or this tone of motion in one of the series of the all-flood, which, on ac- count of its rarity, penetrates all matter, manifests its action immediately in the substance of the nerves, and consists prob- ably of the same fluid stuff with which the nerves are impreg- nated. And this fire, in consideration of its application as a remedial agent upon the organism of animate beings, is what I call animal magnetism" (pp. 17-19). "Discerning experience has proved that animal magnetism is similar to the nature of fire, but in noways a substance, but a motion, like the sound in the air, like the light in the ether, modified in a certain series of the universal flood. But this flood, or this series of motion, is not that of the common fire, nor that of the light, nor that of the magnet, nor that of electricity. It is of an order which exceeds all in rarity and mobility. Probably it is one and the same with that which impregnates the nerve substance. This homogeneity and continuity of both would bring them in a reciprocal relation with the whole universe. " This tonic motion may be communicated to all animate and inanimate bodies, and may inflame them, so to speak. Since this motion is communicated to the most interior parts of the bodies, it causes effects which correspond with the organization of these bodies, and, once excited in a substance, it endures therein. As the general action of magnetism con- sists of regulating the in-going and out-going currents, it is clear that in the magnetized bodies, and especially in the limbs and in the nooks of the body, originate, as in the magnet, poles which are opposite in their direction. There is MESMERISM, ANIMAL MAGNETISM, ETC. 403 also similarity of these same directions with the great mun- dane currents in the phenomenon of inclination and declina- tion " (pp. 110 and 111). " This original or excited fire, or this tone of motion, can be communicated to all organized substances, such as animals, trees, plants, stones, sand, water and other fluid and solid substances, to all distances and in all magnitudes, even to the sun and the moon, etc. The real communication is effected by mediate or immediate touch with a magnetized body — that is, with a body inflamed by this invisible tire; so that a mere direction with the hand or a conductor, even a glance of the eye, or the mere will, may be sufficient" (pp. Ill and 112). " The transference is effected by concussion like light and sound, or like electricity in the continuity of the fine stuff through all fluid and solid bodies which stand in some unin- terrupted connection with the magnetized body ; e. g., through strings, wood, balls, twigs of trees or plants, etc., also through mediary bodies like air, ether, water, through sound and light; from looking-glasses it may be reflected, through a dash made with lead-pencil, pen or otherwise, and generally through the direction determined by the pole from which it emanates to the pole which receives it. "This motion penetrates, in the perfect continuity of the fine flood, all bodies. It is propagated almost instantly to a dis- tance, the limits of which we cannot measure " (p. 112). ''The application of magnetism may be made with the hand, by moving it over the affected parts and holding it there. The presence of magnetism usually manifests itself as a feeling of slight warmth in the hand. There may also be used a con- ductor of wood, iron or glass, etc., which must be directed toward the affected part: Parapathos. 2. By means of a magnetic ves- sel (baquet) which contains magnetized water, sand, stones, bottles filled with water, from which the concentrated magnet- ism is led by iron rods outside the vessel to the person to be magnetized, by taking hold of such rod" (pp. 115 and 116). "The effect shows itself in sensations, and thus it is clear that magnetism directly affects the nerves. Indeed, the observa- tions made prove that this fluid is the same as that which animates the nerves. The influence of this fluid cannot be recognized by the common senses" (p. 118). " To magnetize is nothing else than to impart, directly or in- directly, the tonic motion of the fine fluid by which the nerve- substance is impregnated" (p. 119). " In order to establish harmony with the patient, the mag- netizer, who sits opposite the patient, lays his hands upon the 404 OCCULT PHENOMENA. shoulders of the patient, and lets them glide down the arms to the ringers. For a short time he takes hold of the patient's thumbs, and repeats this process two or three times. After this he makes a few similar strokes from the head down to the feet " (p. 180). " If the disease is located in the abdomen, the magnetizer should touch the spot with the index finger and thumb, or two or three other fingers, or with the flat hand, and move them upon the abdomen as much as possible in the direction of the nerves, and, lastly, hold all five fingers separated and bent over these parts. The touch at a small distance from the abdomen acts stronger, because there exists a stream between the hand of the operator and the patient" (p. 182). " There may also be used a conductor, such as a rod of glass, iron, steel, gold or silver, etc. It is also good to oppose one pole to the other, for instance, to place the right hand on the head, chest or abdomen, and then lay the left hand on the op- posite part of the back, especially in the median line" (p. 183). " In all times it has been observed that certain persons walk about during their sleep, and execute the most complicated actions with the same reflection and attention, and with even greater precision, than during their waking state. And still more marvelous is the development of intellectual functions, which often excel by far the best developed in the normal state. In this state the patients can foresee the future and represent to themselves the remotest past. Their senses expand to all distances and in all directions, without hinderance. It appears as if all nature were present to them. But these capacities differ in different individuals. The most common phenomena are to be able to see the interior of their own bodies and those of others, and to recognize not only the disease, but also the course it will take and the means which will cure it. But these capacities are seldom found united in one and the same individual" (pp. 199 and 200). " A reflection alone on the subtility, mobility and the con- tinuity of matter filling all space, lets us understand that no motion or displacement in any of its least particles can be possible without affecting the whole universe. Hence it fol- lows that all that exists can be felt, inasmuch as there is no being nor combination of matter which would not, in conse- quence of its relation to the whole, affect likewise that part of matter in which we live. All animated beings which are in conjunction with all nature are able to sense distant beings and occurrences as they follow upon each other" (p. 201). MESMERISM, ANIMAL MAGNETISM, ETC. 405 "A communication of will to another in the common way is brought about when the movements produced by the thought are transferred from the centre to the vocal organs, and from thence by means of air and ether to the organs of sense of the other person, who then perceives them. These same motions of thought, modified in the brain and in the nerves, are at the same time communicated to a series of a subtle fluid with which the substance of the nerves is connected, and can be transferred independently of air or ether into space immediately to the inner sense of another individual. Thus it is not diffi- cult to conceive how the will of one person can be communi- cated to the will of another merely by means of the inner sense, and how, therefore, a harmony and agreement can be established between two wills. This harmony or agreement of two wills is called: to be in rapport" (p. 202). " Of still greater difficulty is it to explain how things can be perceived which do not yet exist or which have passed away long ago. I shall try to explain the possibility of these oc- currences by a common illustration. Suppose a man to be stand- ing on a hill from which he can look down upon a river upon which a boat is floating. There he can trace not only the way which the boat has made, but also the space which it has yet to run through. If we apply this simple likeness to the ex- planation of a knowledge of the past and future, and remem- ber that man, by means of his inner sense, is in constant con- nection with all nature, and therefore able to perceive the concatenation of causes and effects, we can conceive that to know the past means nothing but to perceive the causes in the effects, and to know the future, to sense the effects in their causes, independent of any distance that may lie between the first cause and the final effect. " Beside, everything that has been has left some traces of what is to be and exists already in the sum total of causes that will produce it, and thus the idea lies near, that in the uni- verse all is present, and that the past and future are merely different relations of the parts to each other." " As, however, this kind of sensing • can be obtained only by means of series of the all-flood,' which are so much finer than ether, as ether perhaps excels in subtility the air, we are in want of words to explain these processes, just as we cannot explain colors by sounds. We must supplement them by contemplations on the pre-apprehensions or the foresight which men, and especially animals, show of great natural events in distances beyond the bounds of their sensory or- gans " (p. 204). 406 OCCULT PHENOMENA. "During sleep (natural or magnetic) the surrounding mat- ter does not act through the external sense-organs, but im- mediately upon the nerve- substance. The inner sense is now the only organ for sensation. These impressions, inde- pendent of the external senses, as the only ones now exist- ing, are felt by and through themselves. In consequence of an unalterable law, that the weaker impression is subdued by a stronger one, these faint impressions can be felt only in the absence of the stronger sensory impressions. Thus are the stars invisible to us during the day, because the stronger sunlight quenches their weaker light. In sleep, however, man feels his connection with the whole of nature" (p. 205). " As the knowledge of the most learned man w T ould remain unknown without communication, so would also this phe- nomenon remain unknown, if there were not individuals who retain the capacity during their morbid or critical sleep to manifest by speech and action what takes place within them. " The light somnambulistic sleep is an intermediate state between waking and sleeping, which can approach more or less the one or the other, and is, therefore, more or less perfect. If it is nearer to the waking state, then memory and recollection take still some part in it ; and as these sensations commingle with those of the inner sense, sometimes predominantly, the whole must be classed in the category of dreams. If, however, this state approaches nearer to sleep, then the utterances of the somnambulic person are the result of sensations of the inner sense only, and not of the external senses, which are blocked out. The perfection of the critical sleep varies according to the character, temperament and habits of the patient. Al- though in the critical sleep the substance of the nerves is immediately excited, and the entire activity of the person is under the influence of the inner sense, still the effects of the different excitations are always referred to the external senses which especially correspond to them. " If, therefore, a somnambulist says, * I see,' then it is not the proper eyes that receive the impressions of the ether, but he refers to sight those impressions which are aw T akened in him by the motions of light from the different outlines, figures and colors. If he says, ' I hear,' it is not his ear that re- ceives the different modulations of the air. He only refers to it the impression of motions which he receives. The same holds good in the other senses, and he makes, so to say, only a kind of translation in order to express the sen- sations which he receives by the inner sense. For this MESMERISM, TELLURISM, ETC. 407 reason his expressions may easily be falsely interpreted, and it takes a good observer to understand them correctly. The perfection of this sensation depends clearly on two condi- tions: On the totally arrested activity of the external senses, and the disposition of the organ of the inner sense. This organ consists in the union and combination of the nerves; and I do not understand by this a single spot or centre, nor a circumscribed region, but the nervous system as a whole; that is, the entire brain, the spinal cord and all nerve-plexuses and ganglia. These different parts may, as regards their functions, be compared singly and in the whole to the different strings of a musical instrument, the accord of which only produces perfect harmony " (pp. 205-208). " It is essential to again repeat that all kinds of mental aberrations are but modifications of a perfect sleep" (p. 209). Telltjrism. — The author of this term wrote the following work: "System des Tellurismus, oder thierischen Magnetismus. Ein Handbuch fur Naturforscher und Aerzte, von Dr. D. G. Kieser, Hofrath und Professor zu Jena. 2 Bande. Leipzig, bei Fz. L. Herbig, 1822." I shall quote this author in his own words : " Animal magnetic influence or animal magnetism upon our earth is the (intentionally caused) reciprocal action of two living organisms upon each other, in which not the solar but the telluric force preponderates and decides " (Vol. I, p. 7). " The solar force, although magnetically analagous, is never- theless directly opposite to the telluric force, it is heterologous to it, for everywhere, where in single things or their lives the solar force steps in, there telluric force and life cease; but where the telluric force prodominates over the solar, there the telluric force is homologous to the magnetic force, or is iden- tical with it. Therefore, the night acts magnetically, the day anti-magnetically. The action of the moon, being a part of the earth, is homologous to that of the earth ; and therefore the lunar force has the. same effect upon somnambulists as the telluric force has " (Vol. I, p. 11). " The activity which brings about the magnetic rapport is the animal magnetic force, or the magnetic agent. It is, there- fore, the living activity of the earth or its representative, the telluric force itself, which emanates in different forms during the reciprocal action between two things from the magnetizer upon the somnambulist. It is not anything material, but the force or spirit of the earth w T hich, in the different forms of the magnetizer, either as metallic, vegetable, animal or human 408 OCCULT PHENOMENA. spirit, is always the expression of the telluric spirit " (Vol. I, p. IS). " The communication of the magnetic force to other bodies not magnetic, is not a passive receiving and advancing of a material stuff, as, for instance, as ponge sucks in and retains water ; but it is a purely vital process, a true magnetizing of these substances, in consequence of which they assume a tel- luric life, like the somnambulist, and act as such. The mag- netophores might, therefore, more correctly be called anorganic somnambulists " (Vol. I, p. 310). "All magnetophores act less energetically, and only during a certain length of time, steadily decreasing in power, than the body by which they were magnetized" (Vol. I, p. 315). " As the telluric force is the most universal force of the earth, and no earthly stuff can escape the power of its influence, it follows that all earthly bodies must be conductors of the telluric force " (Vol. I, p. 318). " The telluric force is, therefore, not an electric or galvanic force, nor is it identical with the mineral magnetic force, neither is it merely the psychic force of man, nor his nervous activity; it is not the all-flood of Mesmer, nor general vital power, nor is it identical with light, heat or chemism, or a dead, fine exhalation of an animal body, nor even the pure psychic force of spirits" (Vol. I, pp. 338-344); but, as said before, the most universal force of the earth, the living activity of the earth, which in the different forms of the magnetizer, either as metallic, vegetable, animal, or as human spirit, is always the expression of the telluric spirit" (Vol. I, p. 18). The means of magnetizing were: The will, the look and various manipulations with the hands and fingers of the mag- netizer and the unmagnetized baquet, all of which Dr. Kieser describes at full length from page 347-407 in Vol. I. Hypnotism.— Dr. James Braid made known his researches on this subject in two works : 1. Neurypnology, or Hypnotism, or Nervous Sleep. London, 1843; and, 2. Magic, Witchcraft, Animal Magnetism, Hypnotism and Electro-Biology. (3d edition, Churchill, Princess St., Soho, London ; Adam and Charles Black, Edinburgh, 1852.) I shall extract from these books only what is necessary to obtain a clear understanding of Braid's results and views : " In November, 1841, 1 was led to investigate the pretensions of animal magnetism, or mesmerism, as a complete sceptic, ETC. 409 from an anxiety to discover the source of fallacy in certain phenomena I had heard were exhibited at M. Lafontaine's conversazione " (Neurypnology, p. 2). . " My first experiment was to prove that the inability of the patient to open his eyes was caused by paralyzing the levator muscles of the eyelids, through their continued action during the protracted fixed stare, and thus rendering it physically im- possible for him to open them " (Ibid. p. 16). " It is on the principle of overexerting the attention, by keeping it riveted to one subject or idea which is not of itself of an exciting nature, and overexercising one set of muscles, and the state of strained eyes, with the suppressed respiration and general repose which attend such experiments, which excites in the brain and whole nervous system that peculiar state which I call hypnotism, or nervous sleep. " The most striking proofs that it is different from common sleep are the extraordinary effects produced by it. In deep abstraction of mind, it is well known, the individual becomes unconscious of surrounding objects, and in some cases even of severe bodily inflictions. Daring hypnotism or nervous sleep the functions in action seem to be so intensely active, as must in a great measure rob the others of that degree of nervous energy necessary for exciting their sensibility. This alone may account for much of the dulness of common feeling during the abnormal quickness and extended range of action of certain other functions" (Ibid. p. 48). " The'hypnotic condition resembled, in two patients who had hypnotized themselves, very much the same state as that pro- duced by the laughing gas. One lost the power of speech for two hours, as happened also after the gas. But there is a remarkable difference between the hypnotic condition and that induced by nitrous oxide gas. In the latter there is great, almost irresistible, inclination to general muscular efforts, as well as laughter ; in the former there seems to be no inclination to any bodily effort, unless excited by impressions from ivithout. When the latter are used, there is a remarkable difference again in the power of locomotion and accurate balancing of themselves, when contrasted with the condition of intoxication from wine or spirits, where the limbs become partially para- lyzed, while the judgment remains pretty clear and acute. The state of muscular quiescence, with acute hearing, and dreaming, glowing imagination, approximates it somewhat to the condition induced by conium " (pp. 57 and 58). " The first symptom after the induction of the hypnotic state, and extending the limbs, are those of extreme excitement 27 410 OCCULT PHENOMENA. of all the organs of sense, sight excepted. A patient who could not hear the tick of a watch beyond three feet when awake, could do so, when hypnotized, at the distance of thirty-five feet, and walk to it in a direct line without difficulty or hesi- tation. " Smell. — One patient has been able to trace a rose through the air when held forty-six feet from her. " The tactual sensibility is so great that the slightest touch is felt, and will call into action corresponding muscles, in which will also be found a most inordinate power. " The sense of heat, cold and resistance is also exalted to such a degree as to enable the patient to feel anything ivithout actual contact, in some cases at a considerable distance (eighteen to twenty inches), if the temperature is very different from that of the body ; and some will feel a breath of air from the lips or the blast of a pair of bellows at a distance of fifty or even ninety feet, and bend from it, and, by making a back current, as by waving the hand or a fan, will move in the opposite direction. The patient has a tendency to approach to or recede from impressions, according as they are agreeable or dis- agreeable, either in quality or intensity. Thus they will approach to soft sounds, but they will recede from loud sounds however harmonious. A discord, such as two semi-tones sounded at the same time, however soft, will cause a sensitive patient to shudder and recede when hypnotized, although ignorant of music and not at all disagreeably effected by such discord when awake " (p. 62). " By allowing a little time to elapse, and the patient to be in a state of quietude, he will lapse into the opposite extreme of rigidity and torpor of all the senses, so that he will not hear the loudest noise nor smell the most fragrant or pungent odor, nor feel what is either hot or cold, although not only approximated to, but brought into actual contact with, the skin. He may now be pricked, pinched or maimed without evincing the slightest symptom of pain or sensibility, and the limbs w T ill remain rigidly fixed. " At this stage a puff of wind directed against any organ in- stantaneously rouses it to ordinary sensibility and the rigid muscles to a state of mobility. "Thus the patient may be unconscious of the loudest noise, but by simply causing a current of air to come against the ear, a very moderate noise will instantly be heard so intensely as to make the patient start and shiver violently, although the whole body had immediately before been rigidly catalepti- form. 411 " A rose, valerian or asafoetida, or the strongest liquor am- monise, may have been held close under the nostrils without being perceived ; but a puff of wind directed against the nos- trils will instantly rouse the sense so much that, supposing the rose had been carried forty-six feet distant, the patient has instantly set off in pursuit of it, and, even while the eyes were bandaged, reached it as certainly as a dog traces out game; but as respects valerian or asafoetida, the patient will rush from the unpleasant smell with the greatest haste. The same with the sense of touch " (p. 63). " The brain being in a state of torpor, the limbs rigid and the skin insensible to pricking, pinching, heat or cold, by gently pressing the point of one or two fingers against the back of the hand or any other part of the extremity the rigidity will very speedily give place to mobility and quivering of the arm, hand or fin- gers, which is greatly increased by pressing another finger against the neck, head or face. In the latter case the commo- tion of the whole body is as violent in some patients as from shocks of the galvanic battery. " By placing both fingers on any part of the head, face or neck the commotion almost or entirely ceases. " By pinching the skin of the hand or arm with one finger and thumb, and the skin of the neck or face with another, no effect is produced. " Pressure made with isolating rods, glass or sealing-wax, is followed by the same phenomena as when done by the points of the fingers. " The flat hand applied has very little effect. " The pressure being made against both hands, the arms are contorted, and if the head is partially dehypnotized the patient will complain of pains running into the fingers, espe- cially if one point of contact is the hand and the other the face or head. These phenomena do not occur while the skin remains sensible to pricking or pinching" (p. 66). " The following is the mode of operating for phrenological manifestations: Put the patient into the hypnotic condition in the usual way, extend his arms for a minute or two, then replace them gently on his lap, and allow him to remain per- fectly quiet for a few minutes. Let the points of one or two fingers now be placed on the central point of any of his best- developed organs, and press it very gently. If no change of countenance or bodily movement is evinced, use gentle fric- tion, and then, in a soft voice, ask what he is thinking of, what he would like or wish to do, or what he sees, as the function of the organ may indicate, and repeat the questions and the 412 OOCULT PHENOMENA. pressure, or contact, or friction, over the organ till an answer is elicited. If very stolid, gentle pressure on the eyeballs may- be necessary to induce him to speak. If the skin is too sensi- tive he may awake, in which case try again, waiting a little longer. If too stolid, try again, beginning the manipulations sooner. " Whispering or talking should be carefully avoided by all present, so as to leave nature to manifest herself in her own way, influenced only by the stimulus conveyed through the nerves of touch exciting to automatic muscular action " (pp. 145, 146). "Resume. — 1. The effect of a continued fixation of the mental and visual eye, in the manner and with the concomitant circumstances pointed out, is to throw the nervous system into a new condition, accompanied by a state of somnolence, and a tendency, according to the mode of management, of excit- ing a variety of phenomena very different from those w r e obtain either in ordinary sleep or during the waking con- dition. " 2. There is at first a state of high excitement of all the organs of special sense, sight excepted, and a great increase of muscular power; and the senses afterward become torpid in a much greater degree than w T hat occurs in natural sleep. " 3. In this condition we have the power of directing or con- centrating nervous energy, raising or depressing it in a remark- able degree at will, locally or generally. " 4. In this state we have the power of exciting or depressing the force and frequency of the heart's action, and the state of circulation, locally or generally, in a surprising degree. " 5. While in this condition we have the power of regulating and controlling muscular tone and energy in a remarkable manner and degree. " 6. We also thus acquire a power of producing rapid and important changes in the state of the capillary circulation, and of the whole of the secretions and excretions of the body, as proved by the application of chemical tests. " 7. This power can be beneficially directed to the cure of a variety of diseases which were most intractable, or altogether incurable, by ordinary treatment. " 8. This agency may be rendered available in moderating or entirely preventing the pain suffered by patients while undergoing surgical operations. " 9. During hypnotism, by manipulating the cranium and face, we can excite certain mental and bodily manifestations, according to the parts touched " (pp. 150, 151). MESMERISM, HYPNOTISM, ETC. 413 "From the first I was of opinion that much of the excite- ment and many of the phenomena developed were attributable to the altered state of the circulation in the brain and spinal cord, and especially to the greater determination of blood to them and all other parts not compressed by rigid muscles, arising from the difficulty, during the cataleptiform state, of the blood being propelled in due proportion through the rigid extremities. I conclude that the ganglionic or organic system of nerves is also inordinately stimulated from the same cause, and thus, having acquired an undue preponderance, induces many of the remarkable phenomena which have been referred to. Whoever examines carefully the injected state of the con- junctival membrane, and of the capillary circulation in the head, face and neck, the distented state of the jugular veins, the hard, bounding throb of the carotid arteries, and the greatly increased frequency of the pulse, during the rigid condition of the limbs, cannot fail to perceive that there is great determi- nation to the head. Again, when all these symptoms are so speedily changed on reducing the cataleptiform condition of the limbs and consequent obstruction to free circulation through them, is the chief cause of the determination to the head and other parts not directly pressed on by rigid mus- cles." (pp. 155-157). " The varieties which are met with as regards suscepti- bility to the hypnotic impression, and the mode and degree of its action, are analogous to what we experience in respect to the effects of wine, spirits, opium, the nitrate oxide and many other agents. They are all well known to act differently on different individuals, and even on the same individuals at different times, according to the condition of the system" (p. 158). Extracts from " Magic, Witchcraft, Animal Magnetism, Hyp- notism and Electro- Biology," by James Braid, 3d ed., London: John Churchill, Princess St., Soho ; Adam and Charles Black, Edinburgh, 1852 : " The object of my pamphlet, published in July last, entitled 1 Electro-Biological Phenomena Considered Physiologically and Psychologically/ was to prove the subjectivity of the hyp- notic, mesmeric and the so-called ' electro-biological' condition in opposition to the theory of the mesmerists and electro- biologists; the former of whom contended for an occult or special influence, or the 'od force' of Reichenbach as the cause; while the latter attributed it to an electrical influence, excited and directed by the will and manoeuvres of a second party. My theory was this : That the phenomena resulted from 414 OCCULT PHENOMENA. the concentrated mental attention of the patient acting on his oum physical organism, and the changed condition of the physical action thus induced reacting on the mind of the patient" (p. 10). "Now, all I have ever laid claim to was simply the discovery of more certain and speedy modes of producing the hypnotic state, and applying it with greater advantage for the relief and cure of disease than by the old-established modes of mesmer- izing; and also that my method has enabled me to demonstrate that the influence is subjective, or personal, and not objective, or the result of the transmission of an occult, magnetic, or odylic, or vital, or nervous influence or fluid, passing from the operator to the patient" (p. 21). " It is a curious fact, and tells strongly in support of my subjective or personal theory, that while many insane patients, particularly cases of monomania, may be readily enough hyp- notized, I have never yet been able to affect an idiot. Where there is no mind capable of being aroused to an act of sustained, fixed attention, I have never succeeded in hypnotizing the patient, although I have made many persevering attempts to do so " (p. 43). " I am satisfied that all the mesmerizing processes produce their effects from what is essentially the same exciting cause as that which induces hypnotic phenomena, viz : by the produc- tion of a state of mental concentration, through the attention becoming so engrossed by watching the manoeuvres or sugges- tions of the operator, as for the nonce to render the subject dead or indifferent to all other sensible impressions or trains of thought. In this condition the whole attention of the subject is given to every existing or suggested idea, and thus it works wonders in changing or modifying the existing condition of the physical frame. Moreover, suggestions may be given, either through words spoken or sensible impressions made on any of the organs of special sense. In this stage of the sleep the power of suggestion on the patient is excessive. Whatever idea is suggested to his mind, whether by the natural import of words spoken, or modified by the tone of voice in which they are uttered, is instantly seized upon by the subject and interpreted in a manner to surprise many, and lead them to believe it has been accomplished by a sort of intuition or inspiration. In this way you may vary or modify the ideas suggested in the most remarkable manner, and the patient sees and feels and speaks of all as real, without the slightest desire to impose upon others" (pp. 59 and 60). " Arousing patients from the hypnotic state. — If I wish any predominant idea or physical change which has been induced MESMERISM, STATUVOLISM, ETC. 415 to be carried strongly into the waking condition, I arouse the patient abruptly, by a clap of my hands near his ear, when at the full height of the desired condition. If tranquilizing is intended, then he had better be aroused slowly and softly, as by gently wafting with the hand, or a fan, or open hand- kerchief, over the face, or by placing the thumbs gently on the eyes of the patient, or on his eyebrows, and carrying them late- rally a few times, so as to produce gentle friction, to which may be added gentle fanning, if required. If the patient is in the sub or half-waking condition, a word spoken or a visible move- ment of any sort made, so as to break his abstraction excited temporarily by previous suggestion, will suffice " (p. 72). "My investigations, supported as they are by the researches of many men of the highest rank and intelligence, fully prove that the solution of the problem is this : That many patients, who are naturally highly susceptible to such influences, become, at length, liable to be affected entirely through the force of imagination, belief, or habit ; and that they do not exhibit these manifestations from any desire to deceive others, but because they are self-deceived, through their implicit cre- dulity, belief and fixity of their attention on the ideas suggested in their hearing, or in any way associated in their minds with certain processes and combinations of circumstances" (p. 103). " In conclusion, I beg leave to remark that, from ample ex- perience, I feel pretty confident that all the phenomena alleged by me as producible in the above-named manner are veritable facts — that they are not fallacies. And from a consideration of the whole I am led to infer that my subjective or personal theory is, at all events, a step in the right direction, and somewhat nearer the truth than the theories of the mesmerists and electro- biologists" (pp. 104 and 105). Statuvolism. — The author, Dr. Wm. Baker Fahnestock, who coined this term for artificial somnambulism, gives the following instructions in his book on " Statuvolism, or Arti- ficial Somnambulism" (Chicago: Religio-Philosophical Pub- lishing House, 1871) : "Various methods have been employed by different opera- tors to induce somnambulism. The plan adopted and prac- ticed by Mesmer and his pupils has already been detailed in a preceding chapter. The plans of modern magnetizers are scarcely less absurd than that employed by Mesmer and his immediate followers. " Some operators of the present day, who believe in a mag- netic influence, still pursue the ludicrous method of sitting 41G OCCULT PHENOMENA. down opposite the patient, holding Ins thumbs, staring into his eyes, and making passes, etc., until the desired object is effected. Others who believe looking to be essential, direct the patient to look at some object intently until the lids close and the patient becomes unconscious. "Very few, however, can be induced to enter the state in any of the above ways, and those who do usually fall into the sleeping condition of this state are generally dull, listless and seldom good clairvoyants The most rational, certain and pleasant "way of inducing this state which I have discovered is the following: " When persons are desirous of entering this state I place them upon a chair where they may be at perfect ease. I then request them to close the eyes at once, and to remain perfectly calm at the same time that they let the body lie perfectly still and relaxed. They are next instructed to throw 7 their mind to some familiar place — it matters not wdiere, so that they have been there before and seem desirous of going there again, even in thought. When they have throw 7 n the mind to the place, or upon the desired object, I endeavor, by speaking to them frequently, to keep their mind upon it, viz.: I usually request them to place themselves (in thought) close to the object or person they are endeavoring to see, as if they were really there, and urge them to keep the mind steady, or to form an image or picture of the person or thing in their mind, wdiich they must then endeavor to see. This must be perse- vered in for some time, and when they tire of one thing, or see nothing, they must be directed to others successively, as above directed, until clairvoyance is induced. When this has been effected the rest of the senses fall into the state at once, or by slow 7 degrees, often one after another, as they are enervized or not. Sometimes only one sense is affected during the first sitting. If the attention of the subject is divided, the difficulty of entering the state perfectly is much increased, and the powers of each sense w T hile in this state will be in proportion as that division has been much or little. "Almost every subject requires peculiar management, which can only be learned by experience or a knowledge of their character, etc. Much patience and perseverance is often re- quired to effect it; but if both be sufficiently exercised, the result will always be satisfactory — if not in one sitting, in two or more. I have had several to enter this condition after twenty sittings, and had them to say that if they had not in- terfered and had allowed things to take their course they would have fallen into it in the first sitting. This shows that MESMERISM, STATUVOLISM, ETC. 417 those who do not enter it in one or two sittings must do some- thing to prevent it. " Many persons have entered'the state in the above manner, who could not do so in any other, although repeated trials had been made to effect it. " Taking hold of the thumbs and looking into the eye or at any other object particularly^ by no means necessary ; and as this state is one that depends entirely upon the state of the subject's mind, and is brought about by an act of his own will and not by that of the operator's, it must be evident to every intelligent mind that all that the operator can do, in- dependent of the instructions which he may give, or the care he may take of them, etc., is perfectly useless, and ought to be dispensed with. " I have found that persons always enter this state better with- out any contact, looking, passes, or anything of the kind, partic- ularly when they are assured that they have some competent person to take care of and to converse with them while in it ; and by observing carefully the instructions which I have given, it is possible for any person to throw themselves into this state at pleasure, independent of anyone; but it might not always be prudent to do so for the first time; for some, upon entering the condition for the first time, become uncon- scious of all that is passing around them ; and if such persons were to throw themselves into it independent of anyone, and had not consented or made up their minds before entering it to hear or to speak to someone, it is most likely that when in it and spoken to they would not hear anyone, and in all probability would sleep for a longer or a shorter time without doing anything, and when they did awake would remember nothing, and scarcely know that they had been in it at all. Or they might get up and wander about, as is sometimes done by natural somnambulists, and unknowingly get into difficul- ties or meet with some accident which might not be very agreeable when they awoke. " When they have entered the state frequently and have had the proper instructions while in it, the case is very differ- ent. They are then able to move about with as much cer- tainty and safety as if they were awake. " The sensations experienced by those who enter this state are variously described by different subjects; but most com- monly they agree that after the eyes are closed and they have been endeavoring to see for a longer or shorter period, a drow- siness ensues, accompanied with more or less ' swimming of the head,' and a tingling sensation over the whole body. 418 OCCULT PHENOMENA. "Some experience a feeling of sinking down, as if they were passing through the floor; others, again, feel as light as a feather and seem to ascend or to be suspended in the air. Some start and twitch involuntarily in various parts of the body ; while in others the breathing is more or less affected; but there is no necessity for their feeling unpleasantly in any way. Some feel warm, others cold, but none of the sensations are described as being unpleasant, and when the state is entered perfectly the feelings are said to be delightful. "All that is needful, when it becomes necessary that they should awake, is to ask them whether they are ready or will- ing to do so, and if they are, I direct them to do so at once, and they will awake at the word 'now!' in an instant. If, how- ever, you should desire to awaken them, and they are not willing, it will be found impossible to do so contrary to their will, and you will be obliged to await their pleasure. Before they awake, however, I commonly request them to remember how they felt and what they saw, etc., or they may not know any- thing about it when they do awake, particularly if it be their first sitting. With some this is not necessary after the first or second sitting, as they commonly make up their minds to do so of their own accord. Yet I have seen some with whom it was always necessary. Indeed, I have two subjects with whom I have the greatest difficulty, when asleep, to per- suade them to remember anything. Yet when they awake they are much mortified at not having any recollection of what has transpired ; and it seems as if it were impossible for them to carry the resolution to do so into that state, and when in it to resolve to remember when they awake. Others, on the contrary, have the power of remembering whatever they please, or of forgetting what they please ; or, in other words, they can remember all that has transpired, only a part of it, or nothing at all, as they may feel disposed at the time. " This quality or power of the mind, while in this state, enables them to create pain, or feel pleasure at will, and if they imagine, or determine, that there is or shall be pain or disease in any part of the body, that pain or disease will certainly be felt at the time and place designated, and will continue until the mind acts, or is directed so as to alter the condition. This peculiar power of the mind, while in this state, I have taken advantage of to cure diseases, and if the mind be prop- erly directed while in this state, so as to make them resolve to be well, pains, contracted habits or diseases are removed by an act of their will, as if by magic, and will last until the con- ditions are changed, or altered by influencing causes, or by a positive act of the subject's will." (Statuvolism, pp. 67-74.) MESMERISM, ETC. 419 After having thus introduced, in their own words, four of the main authors on a subject which we call "Mesmerism" in honor of its rediscoverer and earnest expounder, Dr. Mesmer, we shall now state, in a few words, the agreement and the dif- ference between them. They all agree that, by certain ma- nipulations and procedures, a certain state can be induced in an individual subjected to them, of the most extraordinary and startling physical and psychical nature. They all differ from one another as to the means of inducing this state. Mesmer held that there existed an infinitely fine fluid pervading the whole universe ; that this fluid could be accumulated in a person (or thing) like magnetism, and transferred to another person, in whom the nervous fluid, which Mesmer considered to be of the same nature as the " all-flood," was by this means so excited and led in different directions and to different actions, that it produced this extraordinary state. As he considered this process similar to the induction of the mineral magnetic influence, he called the influence of certain persons upon others " Animal Magnetism." Dr. Kieser, on the other hand, denies the existence of this universal fluid, and considers the animal magnetic influence due to the telluric force, which, according to his view, is not anything material, but the force or spirit of the earth in its different forms as a magnetizer, either as metal, vegetable, animal or human spirit. The magnetizing is to him a purely vital process, in consequence of which the magnetized assume a -telluric life and act as if under the earth's influence. Dr. Braid asserts "that the influence is subjective or personal, and not objective, or the result of the transmission of an occult, magnetic, or odylic, or vital, or nervous influence or fluid, passing from the operator to the patient. It is on the prin- ciple of overexerting the attention, by keeping it riveted to one subject or idea which is of itself of an unexciting nature, and overexercising one set of muscles, and the state of strained eyes, with suppressed respiration, and general repose which attend such experiments, which excites in the brain and whole nervous system that peculiar state which I shall call hypnotism or nervous sleep." 420 OCCULT PHENOMENA. Dr. Fahnestock, on the contrary, contends and proves by many experiments made about the time when Braid was engaged in his investigations, "that this state is one that de- pends entirely upon the state of the subject's mind, and is brought about by an act of his own will and not by that of the operator; that all that the operator can do, independent of the instructions he can give, or the care he may take of them, etc., is perfectly useless and ought to be dispensed with." Being a state into which the subject lapses b} 7 the exercise of his own will, Dr. Fahnestock called it "Statuvolism." But these modes are not the only means by which the mesmeric state may be induced. The seamstress, whom Dr. Proll, at Gastein, took in his house, was thrown into it by acci- dentally touching a " milk-quartz," of the nature of which she knew nothing. There was no expectation, no fixing of atten- tion, or overexertion of any of her muscles, no wish or will on her part to be thrown into that state, of which she had not the slightest knowledge. It was the simple contact with the stone which induced in her the mesmeric state. (See 113.) The Society for Psychical Researches found that, "with sensitive 'subjects,' the ticking of a watch held at the ear, and light monotonous passes acting on the nerves of touch, were as effective as the fixed gaze" (Proc. of S. P. R.; Part VII, p. 269). Indeed, the range of means for the induction of the mesmeric state may, by further experimentation, be still more widened. In fact, each mesmerizer follows his own mode with more or less success, and some persons do not succeed by any of these means. We have no right to form conclusions from the suc- cess of one or the other of these means as to the nature of the mesmeric state ; and if we prejudge " this state " according to a certain mode or certain means by which we best succeed in inducing it, we certainly prejudice our own cause. The names given certainly 'fall far too short of the whole range of phe- nomena, of which they only describe a part. This is ob- viously the case with all the names heading this chapter. Animal magnetism does not explain the many cases where this state has been induced by unmagnetized agents (Kieser's method); tellurism is an ambiguous term, and, therefore, so MESMERISM — ITS SYMPTOMS. 421 unmeaning that we scarcely know what to make of it; hypno- tism seems to be a misnomer, as even, according to Braid's own observation, there is very little similarity between this state and common sleep ; and statuvolism comprises too little of the entire range of the phenomena observed. The name Mesmer- ism seems, therefore, to be best adapted as a designation for a state which is still so little known, or is wholly disputed. It honors the rediscoverer and first promulgator, and does not in any way commit us to any theory thus far elaborated. The symptoms, although varying greatly in different cases, are, in the main, the following : Braid says : " In the hypnotic state vision becomes more and more imperfect, the eyelids are closed, but have for a considerable time a vibratory rnotion (in some few they are forcibly closed, as if by spasm of the orbicularis). The organs of special sense, particularly of smell, touch and hearing, and those of heat and cold, and resistance, are greatly exalted, and afterward become blunted in a degree far beyond the torpor of natural sleep. The pupils are turned up- ward and inward, but, contrary to what happens in natural sleep, they are greatly dilated and highly insensible to light. After a length of time the pupils become contracted, the eyes still being insensible to light. " The pulse and respiration are, at first, slower than natural ; but, immediately on calling muscles into action, a tendency to cataleptiform rigidity is assumed, with a rapid pulse and op- pressed and quick breathing. The limbs are maintained in a state of tonic rigidity for any length of time I have yet thought it prudent to try, instead of the state of flaccidity induced by common sleep. The most remarkable circumstance is that there seems to be no corresponding state of muscular exhaus- tion from such action." (Neurypnology or Hypnotism, p. 55.) " In passing into natural sleep, anything Held in the hand is soon allowed to drop from the grasp, but in the hypnotic sleep it will be held more firmly than before. This is a very remarkable difference. The power of balancing themselves is so great that I have never seen one of these hypnotic somnambu- lists fall." {Ibid., p. 56.) 422 OCCULT PHENOMENA. This observation is not corroborated by the experiments of the Committee on Mesmerism. On the contrary, only few were able to balance themselves in that state. " Anaesthesia and rigidity can be induced, either generally or partially, in any specified portion of the body. Usually, how- ever, anaesthesia and rigidity exist at the same time, and the anaesthesia may be so complete that no amount of pinching, pricking, burning, or strong electric shocks will produce the slightest protest or sign of pain, while at the same time the subject is acutely sensitive to pain inflicted on the operator." (Proceedings, Part III, p. 227.) " Partial rigidity and anaesthesia may be induced while the 1 subject ' remains otherwise in a perfectly conscious and nor- mal condition." (Proceedings, Part IV, p. 257.) " A community of feeling, or rapport, between the * operator ' and the 'subject/ seems wholly indisputable, at least in many cases. The Committee on Mesmerism found a community as to sensation (Part IV, p. 225), will (Part IV, p. 256), and the ability of undoing this state." (Part VII, p. 290.) " It is astonishing how most of the 'subjects' when in that state may become controlled by 'suggestions' of the operator, and even obey commands given in that state when out of it, in a way, however, that the end being suggested, the 'subject' will take his own means to accomplish it." (Proa, Part VII, p. 284.) One more remarkable symptom is that the subject awakes un- conscious of anything which has happened during that state. However, this is not always the case. We see recollections in all shades carried over from the mesmeric into the normal state, especially from the first, or alert stage, as Mr. E. Gurney calls it. The alert stage lapses either gradually or suddenly into the deep stage, which is characterized " by closure of the eyes, insensibility to pain, disinclination, amounting some- times almost to inability, to move, diminution of irritability of the conjunctivae and susceptibility of the pupils to light, with irresponsiveness to any voice but that of the operator. But of these characteristics the only one which is invariable is the bodily torpidity." (E. Gurney, Proceedings, Part V, p. 65.) THEORIES EXPLAINING THE MESMERIC STATE. 423 116. Theories Explaining the Mesmeric State. Under the title of " The Problems of Hypnotism " Mr. Ed- mund Gurney, in the Proc. of the Soc. for P. R., Part VII, p. 265, etc., gives an excellent article, discussing in an exhaustive manner the now existing explanations of the mesmeric state. I shall not go over this ground a second time, since Gurney has shown clearly the insufficiencies of the one-sided physio- logical, as well as of the one-sided psychological hypotheses. I must, however, speak here of certain terms which in these discussions are largely used, and sometimes so vaguely used that one cannot help thinking of Goethe's words : "Da wo die Begriffe fehlen stellt ein Wort zur rechten Zeit sich ein." Even at the risk of repeating myself I shall consider the following terms : Automatic, cortical and motor centres, attention, con- centration and reverie, memory and recollection. Automatic means self-moving, a very wide and ambiguous term, but usually applied to machines which, by a driving power and adapted mechanical contrivances, simulate some definite action or actions of man or animal, purely in a me- chanical manner. There is no spontaneity about it. This alone ought to make us hesitate in applying this term to psychical states. When applied to actions unconsciously per- formed (in the common sense), we ought to know that such actions cannot be performed without the consciousness of the special mental modifications necessary to their performance, although there may not exist any consciousness of the same. The performance of any psychical action always implies an excitation, i. e., consciousness of the several mental modifica- tions necessary thereto. (Compare the chapters on the dif- ferent forms of consciousness in the preceding portions of this work.) When applied in the sense of spontaneous action, the term automatic implies that there are feelings or impulses at the bottom of it, which feelings or impulses ought to be defined. This is never done. The term automatic, therefore, does not explain anything. It is a mere catch-word used boldly by some " scientists," because apparently it snugly covers their own ignorance, and is believed in by the unthinking crowd, 424 OCCULT PHENOMENA. because, not thinking for themselves, they take any learned expression seemingly appropriate as self-evidently correct. Cortical and motor centres. I spoke of this materialistic subject at length in the physiological part of this work. (Compare 90 and others.) Although it is perfectly correct to assume corresponding corporeal means or organs by which the psychi- cal governs the body in its connection with the external, it is altogether incorrect to consider these material parts as the cause of the phenomena ensuing. They are simply the condi- tions necessary for the production of these phenomena. On the other hand, it is true that when the corporeal conditions change, psychic utterances must likewise be modified. A cause cannot bring forth its normal effects unless normal conditions are given. The relation between soul and body is so inti- mate that the activity of the one cannot be understood with- out taking into full account also the state of the other. To refer the solution of the difficult problems offered by a con- sideration of the mesmeric state to inhibition of this or that nervous centre, is obviously merely begging the question. " What part of the brain is inhibited ? By what is it inhib- ited? " are clearly questions which thus far have not been answered by the advocates of the nervous centre and the in- hibition theory. An equally poor showing is apparent in those " explanations " which make constant reference to " attention and concentration, memory and recollection." Attention, as we have seen in 100, " is the arousing of ves- tiges previously acquired to a present impression" and " its degree is nothing more nor less than the amount or number of ves- tiges previously acquired joining the excitation of the present impression." Now, to look fixedly upon a button or "unexciting" object, is surely not apt to arouse many vestiges formerly acquired, unless in a speculative head who knows something about the manufacture of buttons, and calculates what the price of a dozen of the particular kind gazed at might be. He will not go to sleep, but will keep awake until he comes to some conclusion as to the material, the way of manufacturing, and THEORIES EXPLAINING THE MESMERIC STATE. 425 the price of that kind of buttons. His attention to the button will keep him aivake. Another, knowing nothing of the but- ton business, while staring upon such an object and not being troubled otherwise with many thoughts, may readily fall asleep, not on account of his attention to the button, to the perception of which no particular vestiges previously ac- quired are aroused or added, because he has none, but by his staring, which prevents him from observing what goes on around him, or, in other words, which prevents the arousing of vestiges previously acquired by what he might see or hear. The object must be unexciting enough not to cause attention, but to deaden attention to other things. Instead, then, of attention being requisite to promote the mesmeric state, it is just the opposite condition that is required, a blank, passive state of the mind that neither thinks, wishes nor wills. This is proved by the many cases in which the mesmeric state has been induced by quite different means than staring at a but- ton or a lancet. The irrelevancy of the terms " reverie and abstraction " to the mesmeric state has been so aptly and clearly shown by Mr. Gurney in the article above cited (Proa, Part VII, p. 267), that it would be waste of time to dwell upon it. Of much greater importance is it to have a clear understand- ing of the terms " memory and recollection" Of all funda- mental, as well as of all derivative modifications, the law holds that : What once has been produced in the soul with any degree of perfection continues to exist, even wdien it has ceased to be excited, i. e., has become unconscious. It continues to exist in the substance of the soul as a vestige, that is, as a modified primitive force. This unconscious continuance of what has once come into existence (no matter in which of the different primitive forces of the soul) is memory (102). From this it follows that what has been produced in the soul during the mesmeric state with any degree of perfection must also continue to exist even when it has ceased to be excited or has again become unconscious. But how can we know that this is the case ? By the fact that the mesmeric subject is capable in many instances of remembering what has 28 42G OCCULT PHENOMENA. transpired during that state. This has been proven beyond any doubt by the experiments of the Committee on Mes- merism, and Mr. Gurney again gives an excellent account of it in his article on " TJie Stages of Hypnotism.'" (See Pro- ceedings, Part V, p. G7, etc.) But years before, P. G. van Ghert had discovered how he could easily make his somnambulistic subjects remember all they had seen and spoken during their somnambulistic state, by simply connecting these occurences to a single idea, which, when recalled during the normal state, would bring to consciousness all that had passed during the somnambulic state in connection with it. Thus a somnam- bulist, who had examined the condition of her lungs during that state, and had found them to be not so seriously affected as she imagined them in her normal state, complained to her mesmerizer (van Ghert) that she felt sorry that she could not know anything of what she then seen during her normal state. "Yes, you can," replied van Ghert, "if you will only direct your attention closely to what you then see, and connect it firmly to the number 'six.' Then when you get awake, if I ask you what you were to remember when I call your attention to the number ' six,' you will know everything about it." And so it was. Van Ghert adds : " I have been quite successful in the application of this procedure as often as I have practiced it, and consider it one of my most felicitous discoveries." (Archiv fur den thierischen Magnetismus, Vol. Ill, Part III, pp. 35-37). This was in the year 1818. Dr. Kieser has confirmed it more than once in the case of the boy Arst, around whose neck he tied a white ribbon, or pasted a wafer on his nose during his somnambulic state, with the admonition to remember what then had passed as soon as he would observe this sign when awake. {Archiv, Vol. VI, Part I, p. 165). And Dr. Fahnestock states that his subjects were capable of remembering all that happened in their mes- meric state " if they willed it." All this proves clearly that what has been produced in the soul during the mesmeric state with any degree of perfection also continues to exist after what has been produced has ceased to be excited or become unconscious (as is usually the case on entering again the THEORIES EXPLAINING THE MESMERIC STATE. 427 normal state), and that it remains a property- of " the memory," an acquisition of the soul, although existing in a quiescent state. So long, however, as it remains in this latent state, it is of no practical use to us. If we can reproduce these acquired mental modifications in consciousness, or, as it is usually termed, remember or recollect them, we only really know that we possess them. The mere rising of latent modifications into consciousness, however, is not exactly what the term " recollection " expresses. Only when the process of becoming conscious starts from some main or leading no- tion, and proceeds so far that the notions of circumstances, time, place, etc., under which we formed that mental modi- fication, also become conscious with it (so that it is brought again into connection with our former life), can we say we have a recollection (102). This is not always the case after the mesmeric state. "Sub- jects" will sometimes perform exactly what they have been bidden by the mesmerizer after they have again entered the normal state, but have no recollection as to the time, circum- stances, etc., under which the command was given. It is a simple reproduction into consciousness of a conative modifica- tion which was excited during the mesmeric state; or the leading notion, to do this or that, rises into consciousness with- out exciting also the circumstances, etc., under which the notion took its origin. But when, as in the case of a gentleman upon whom the committee operated, he afterward remem- bered that it appeared to him as though he knew it to be wrong to say " yes or no," but he said the one or the other be- cause he felt impelled to do so by an influence of the mesmer- izer, and whether he said the one or the other did not matter much to him, then it is a recollection, because it is an excita- tion into consciousness of all the circumstances which took place at that time. This distinction between memory, reproduction and recol- lection we should bear in mind, for we may have reason to apply it to advantage further on. The different "theories" thus far advanced to explain this occult state have certainly failed to bring us nearer to an in- sight into the secret workings of the human soul. 428 OCCULT PHENOMENA. Automatism is truly applicable only to mechanical con- trivances wholly destitute of living forces; changes in cortical and motor centres, and also of the whole nervous system, and " in- hibition" should first be explained (why they occur, of what their nature consists, and how they can so abruptly be induced and again terminated) before they, with so much confidence, are made an explanation of this occult state. Attention riveted to an object which is of itself of an unex- citing nature, may in some cases, where it produces just the reverse (inattention to the surroundings), produce hypnotism, but is very far from explaining this state. Reverie and concen- tration are not at all applicable to the mesmeric state. What, now, is left us ? 117. Psychological Considerations op the Mesmeric State. We shall not be able to advance to a satisfactory solution of the problem of mesmerism so long as we continue to consider soul and body as two diametrically opposite entities, the recip- rocal relation of which, though admitted on all sides, has thus far not been fully understood. I have endeavored to set this relation in a proper light when treating of force and matter and soul and body in 109 and 110. Here I can only refer to these explanations and mention that this relation is founded, upon the fact that soul and body consist of an uninterrupted circuit of living forces, from the highest mental — sight and hearing — to the lowest bodily — flesh and bone — forces; that, therefore, this relation may be simply reduced to an imme- diate transference of living forces upon living forces by the law of diffusion of mobile elements, which regulates not only the activities within the soul and within the body, but also the reciprocal action between the two (32). Considering first the ways and means by which the mes- meric state may be induced, we have to note the following : 1. Induction by means of one's own will. — il Annals du Magnetism Animal, a Paris, chez I. G. Dentu, Imprimeur-Libraire, Rue du Pont de Lodi, No. 3, 1818," make mention of natural and PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 429 voluntary somnambulism ; as voluntary are mentioned (a) a case, from Avicenna de Animalibus, of a man who could voluntarily paralyze his limbs ; (b) a case of a clergyman who could vol- untarily go into apparent death ; (c) the Turks, among whom voluntary ecstasy is quite common and hereditary; (d) the Brahmins, among whom voluntary somnambulism is said to be found frequently, and who even teach the ways and means to produce it. Hieronymus Cardanus could, by his mere will, put himself in ecstasy. He says : " As often as I want to I lose the use of my senses and enter the state of ecstasy, but cannot remain long in this state. I feel, or more properly expressed, I produce when I enter this state a kind of severance in the neighborhood of the heart, just as if the soul were leaving the body, and it is as if a door were opened, or a band around the brain had been loosened. The commencement of this feeling is in the head, especially in the cerebellum, and from here it extends itself with great power over the entire spine. I feel that I am external to my body and can keep myself only with great exertion in this state" (Sphinx, Vol. I, Part V, 1886, p. 329). To this class partly belongs Fahnestock's "Statuvolism." 2. Induction by means of another's will — The most remarkable instance of this kind has been related by Dr. F. Zollner, in his Wissenschaftliche Abhandlungen, Vol. Ill, p. 532, as follows: "During his stay in Berlin, Mr. Hansen had frequent opportu- nities to mesmerize a jeweler, Mr. L. Ehrenwerth, 39 Jerusa- lemer Strasse, Berlin, and to observe particularly the strong psychic influence he had over this gentleman. One day Hansen, being invited by Mr. Ehrenwerth to dinner, found there, beside the members of the family, two other gentlemen likewise invited. While they all were conversing together a customer entered the store, which joined the sitting-room, but was sepa- rated from it by a door. Mr. Ehrenwerth went into the store to attend to the customer, closing the door behind him. At this time one of the persons present asked Mr. Hansen whether his power of influencing a person would reach into another room shut off from where he was. Mr. Hansen answered that he had had cases of this kind in his own practice, although 430 OCCULT PHENOMENA. only seldom, and that a number of such cases had been re- corded by trustworthy witnesses of other magnetizers. He vol- unteered to make a trial at once while Mr. Ehrenwerth was in the store, and asked the company to determine what he should will Mr. Ehrenwerth to do. One of the company proposed that Mr. Ehrenwerth should be made to select three of the costliest diamond rings in the store and hand them over to Mr. Hansen on his return. At once Mr. Hansen concentrated his will and ideas upon the proposed scheme. All w r ere listen- ing and watching behind the door to observe what Mr. Ehren- werth would do in the store. After the customer had left Mr. Ehrenwerth did not return to the company at once. They heard him walking about in the store, opening and shutting several glass cases, and finally approach, with lingering steps, the door of the sitting-room, which he opened, and then, to the astonishment of the whole company, went to Mr. Hansen and laid three diamond rings in his hand. Mr. Ehrenwerth did all this in a state of unconsciousness, similar to that in which those persons were who ate potatoes for apples when influenced by Hansen to do so. Not until Mr. Hansen had awakened him by blowing at him and calling aloud 'wake,' did Mr. Ehrenwerth return to his natural condition, without remembering the past manipulations he had performed." 3. Induction by means of various manipulations of an operator — such as passes with the hands from the forehead down the arms to the hands, and holding the thumbs, or passes over the entire body, or laying the palms of the hands upon the pit of the stomach, on the head, or spine or different other places, or blowing upon the one or the other of these parts, etc., the usual method of old school mesmerizers ; or fix- ation of eye or ear upon " unexciting " objects — Braid and the modern mesmerizers. 4. Induction by means of contact with mineral and vegetable sub- stances — such as Kiesers sideric baquet (Kieser's System des Tellurismus, Vol. I, p. 429 etc.), the milk-quartz in the case of Dr. Proll's patient (113), aconite in Van Helmont's case, which made him feel as though all his mental operations w T ere performed in the stomach; the perfuming substances w r hich were used by the priestesses of Delphi, etc. PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 431 1. One's own will. — What is it? There lies the difficulty. Even here we will have to part with old accepted notions. The will is not a one power of the soul, as has been taught and received so generally, a power which can will anything it pleases. An act of will is quite a complicated mental process, as we have shown in 41. It requires (a) A special desire in connection with mobile primitive forces, which cause (b) An excitation into consciousness of all the, means by which the desired object may be obtained ; and, (c) The full conviction, beforehand, that the desired object can be attained by us, because we know ourselves in the pos- session, not only of the means, but also of the ability, to apply these means for that purpose. When, therefore, Hieronymus Cardanus and others could will themselves into the mesmeric state, they had to fufill all these conditions. They first had to have a desire to fall into this state ; secondly, they had to know and to rouse into conscious- ness the means by which this object could be accomplished; and thirdly, they had to know themselves in possession not only of these means, but also of the ability to apply these means. All this they had to possess, whether they found it accidentally, by study, or by the teaching of others, and they had to practice it until they became experts. For it is not sufficient that a desire and a knowledge of means to attain an object should exist in the soul separately. The two must be joined together in one conscious act (42), and then by repe- tition must be developed into prompt action. Cardanus does not tell us what these means were. He merely states : " As often as I want to, I lose the use of my senses," and then describes the feelings that followed. Fahnestock, in describ- ing the manner in which he put his patients into the mesmeric state by their own will, requests them to close their eyes and to throw their minds to some familiar place, to keep their minds steady and to form an image or picture of the person or thing in their mind, which they must endeavor to see (115). With some he succeeded quickly, with others only after many trials. 432 OCCULT PHENOMENA. This "one's own will," then, is not a general will-power, but a special desire conjoined in consciousness with a corresponding series of ends and means, which one must know he is able to apply to attain that end. There is thus nothing mysterious about its action. It is by the diffusion of mobile elements that the normal conscious state is converted into the abnormal or mesmeric state. 2. Another's will. — The same is true of another's will, or of anybody's will. If one wants to influence another in a special way he must first have this special desire, this must be joined in consciousness with the corresponding series of ends and means, and at the same time he must be convinced that he is able to apply these means and thus attain that end. Without all this his desire will remain a " wish." If this desire and these ends and means are communicated by word or deed, we do not find anything particularly remarkable in the proceed- ing nor in the results. It is an occurrence of our daily inter- course with other people. But when we see another will affect a person at a distance, even through closed doors, without any of the usual means of sensory communication, as in the case of Hansen and Ehrenwerth, we feel rather perplexed at such effects. The solution of this problem, however, has partly been given in the chapter on " thought-transference," in 114. The excita- tion of the like or similar modifications in another mind is not a transference of psychic mobile elements in space. They are spaceless themselves, and therefore not restricted by corporeal boundaries. When Mr. Hansen compelled Mr. Ehrenwerth to do his (Hansen's) will, he had the desire to do so, and with this special desire joined at the same time the concentration of his primitive and partially modified primitive psychic forces upon Mr. Ehrenwerth, as the means to excite in his mind the similar modifications, which was the end to be attained. If he had not practiced this concentration for years, and, on the other hand, if Mr. Ehrenwerth had not been endowed with a receptivity responsive to it, the trial would not have succeeded. Scarcely another would have achieved these results, scarcely another could have been influenced in this way. But w r here the two meet (the ability of concentration and PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 433 the receptivity for such psychic influence), success is assured upon the same laws of diffusion which govern the constant activity in our own minds. 3. Manipulations of an operator. — "It is a fact that some persons can operate successfully and others cannot. There are all varieties, both of power and of susceptibility; but if we take a casual group of persons, omitting those who are in no degree susceptible, we shall probably find that they can be ar- ranged somewhat in the following order : A and B can hypno- tize themselves, either by the inward and upward squint, or, as it may sometimes seem, by mere imagination and expectancy. C and D cannot hypnotize themselves, but can be hypnotized by gentle rhythmical stroking by the hand of almost any- one. E and F can be slowly and partially affected by almost anyone, but immediately and thoroughly by a given ' mesmerist,' X. The rest of the representatives of the letters of the alphabet can be put into the sleep- waking state by X and by X alone, even though they may have no previous notion that X can affect them ; nay, even though they are distinctly told that it is not X but Y who will be able to control them. In such a case, as we have ourselves seen, Y may be a Goliath and X a David in comparison, but the big man will not succeed in doing in an hour what the small man, who has the specific gift, will do in five minutes." " And just as X alone can send these persons into the trance, so X alone can awake them out of it. It is very easy to take care that the subject shall have no previous notion that X alone will be able to wake him; and, as a matter of fact, the most striking illustrations of this rule are cases where everyone present, mesmerist included, is new to mesmerism, and believes that anyone who chooses can wake any 'subject' up again. A typical case is somewhat as follows: A group of persons at an evening party begin to mesmerize each other in joke. One of the guests sends a schoolboy to sleep and drives off, thinking nothing more about it. At the end of the evening the boy's parents try to wake him up. They cannot do so. The boy begins to rave, and is worse when touched or spoken to. Next morning they send 434 OCCULT PHENOMENA. in alarm for the guest who has done the mischief. He suc- ceeds in waking the boy, but the experiment is followed by a week of headache and depression." " The reality of the mesmeric influence is further shown in the distress and even danger which sometimes follows cross-mesmerization — on passes, that is to say, made by Z upon a person whom X has already mesmerized, and over whom X may make passes as often as he likes with only a soothing result. In such a case Z's passes or personal contact may very probably have no effect whatever; but in a specially sensitive ' subject' they sometimes bring about a state of mental chaos of alternating violence and bewilderment, which, though it almost always subsides after a time, constitutes a risk against which experi- menters in mesmerism must, before all things, be on their guard. To the reality of this singular state, whatever its cause, we can testify from personal experience." (Second Re- port of the Committee on Mesmerism. Proa, Part IV, p. 252.) From this it incontrovertibly follows that there is an effluence going from the operator to a "subject" who is capable of re- ceiving it. Braid and Fahnestock denied this effluence in toto, but both proved it by their successes, which they obtained where others had failed. It is certainly not an effluence which can be measured by electrometers, or barred by insulating glass-rods. It is force that acts upon force according to the law of similars, and for which exists only one reagent — the living organism. This explains why one person can operate successfully upon some persons and others cannot. The effluent forces must meet responsive forces, just as the light must meet sight-forces, or sound-waves must meet hearing- forces, as no amount of light will make us hear, and no amount of sound will make us see. This explains also the distress and even danger which sometimes follows cross-mesmerization. The double influence must necessarily, on account of its dis- harmony, produce confusion in the " subject," as well as oppo- site influences pouring at the same time upon one who is in a normal conscious condition, and ma}^be harassing to distraction. The various manipulations applied by operators may be merely convenient ways to which the one or the other operator PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 435 has accustomed himself; but they may not be unessential. Braid succeeded best by fixing the eyes of the subject upon his lancet-case, held a little above the straight line of vision. The committee, trying this mode, had very little success with it (Proa, Part III, p. 220). Mr. G. A. Smith, who mesmerized successfully before the committee a given finger of a subject's hands by making passes over it and looking at it, did not succeed if he made the passes without looking, or if he merely looked at the finger without making passes over it at the same time. (Proa, Part IV, p. 257.) This seems to favor the supposition that the mesmeric influence may be exerted by certain manipulations more effectually than by others ; be- cause, on the part of the operator, he may be so constituted that the acting influence is more readily diffused through his eyes, his words, breath or hands ; and on the part of the subject, this influence may be more readily received by the eyes, ears, head, pit of stomach, etc. But all proves that the process rests on the diffusion of mobile elements. 4. Contact with mineral and vegetable substances. — Everything in the material world is force, or rather a compound of forces, which appears to the different senses in different ways, accord- ingly as the nature of objects are capable of affecting the primary forces (109). The beneficial, as well as the noxious, effects of certain plants and minerals around us have existed as long as man has stood in communion with external nature, and the observation of these influences has gradually developed into the science of medicine. Indeed, this influence of external nature upon the human system is denied by no one. It exerts itself whenever it meets a responsive receptivity. The only dispute that could possibly arise here might be about the mass or quantity which could affect. However, as it has been proven millions of times that matter, even in infinitesimal doses, is capable of exerting a definite influence, and that m.atter, in certain forms, according to recent experiments of physicians made before the Congress of Physicians at Grenoble, August, 1885, affects characteristically, even at a distance, some persons in whom is found a responsive receptivity, it may not be far from the truth to assert that even in such cases we have to deal 43G OCCULT PHENOMENA. with a diffusion of forces upon forces, according to the law of similars. Thus, concerning the ways and means by which the mes- meric state may be induced, it may be said of all the methods of producing that state, that we can reduce them all to the simple law of the diffusion of mobile elements. We now come to the consideration of a more difficult point concerning the nature of the mesmeric state. The symptoms of this state have cursorily been given in 115, and the exami- nation of the means to induce this state may aid us in understanding these symptoms. We have first to consider the changes in the sensory functions during the mesmeric state. They, in part or as a whole, become dulled or entirely sus- pended or changed, for the time being. We cannot say of any of the senses that one or the other is invariably first affected. Sight, though, it seems, is the sense that in most cases first loses its ac- tivity. This, however, takes place only when the mesmeric action commences at the head or eyes (by passes, by riveting them to an " unexciting " object or closing them voluntarily). In cases of partial mesmerization, when only one part of the body — a finger or limb — is brought under the mesmeric influence, sight and other senses remain in a normal condition. Some- times the one or the other sense shows a heightened activity. Finally, all sensory functions lapse into complete torpor, accessible only to the passes, or the voice, or the will, of the mesmerizer. These are, in short, the effects which mesmeriza- tion exerts upon the sensorial functions. Let us first consider the dulling of sight. The essentials for an act of seeing are (1) psychic primitive visual forces; (2) external stimuli; (3) normal organs of vision. — We cannot assume that by the mesmeric influence the primitive sight forces are all at once exhausted, as they are at night after a day's work. Neither can we attribute the dulling of the visual sense to a lack of sight-stimuli, which are as abun- dant when the mesmerizing takes place as at any other time. There remain for our examination only the organs of sight. What are normal sight organs? Anatomy and physiology describe these organs with sufficient accuracy, so far as they PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 437 appear to the senses, but anatomy and physiology do not pen- etrate to the forces that build these beautiful structures, keep them in proper condition, and animate the protoplasm for the particular office of seeing. Without these forces neither organs nor functions (or, in one word, life) would exist, and therefore we have designated them as the vital forces (73, 110). We can thus see that while the organs, that is, the formed material structure, might exist and remain in a perfectly nor- mal condition, their functions may be dulled or suppressed or changed to a greater activity, whenever the vital forces of these organs were influenced accordingly. This seems to take place during mesmerization. The influence of the operator seems to subdue the normal activity of the " subject's " vital forces (which govern the visual organs) into inactivity, so that the organs of sight lose their ability to perform their functions ; the sight grows duller and is at last entirely suppressed, until a reverse stroke, a word, or the simple will of the operator, withdraws this influence, liberates the " subject's " vital forces belonging to vision, and restores sight to the eyes at once. This also applies to all other sensory functions. But how can the influence of vital forces from an operator subdue or interrupt the normal activity of a "subject's" vital forces ? Just in the same way as strong external stimuli sometimes interrupt and subdue our normal mental activities. If suddenly a noise, music, or something of the kind, stimulates our sense of hearing while we are in meditation or conversation, the mental modifi- cations excited at the time disappear at once, and, only after the new excitation ceases, we may ask, perhaps, what was I thinking about? Of what did I speak? if we resume at all the previous train of thought. The effluence from the operator stands in exactly the same relation to the vital forces of a " subject " who is capable of sensing it, as sound does to the auditorial forces, or as any other external stimulus to its cor- responding primitive forces. It interrupts the normal activ- ity of the vital forces. The same applies when such influence is exerted by one's own will. Cardanus says : " I feel, or more properly expressed, I produce, when I enter this state, a kind of severance in the neighborhood of the heart, just as if the 438 OCCULT PHENOMENA. soul were leaving the body, and it is as if a door were opened or a band around the brain had been loosened. The com- mencement of this feeling is in the head, especially in the cerebellum, and from here it extends itself with great power over the entire spine." This denotes clearly a diffusion of mo- bile elements, starting from the brain down, in normal tracts through the spinal column, just as in case of willing to move or to keep quiet any member of the body, the mobile elements of the psychic act diffuse over the corresponding muscular forces, and either stimulate them to contraction or subdue them to re- laxation. This is the case also when the mesmeric state is in- duced by contact with mineral or vegetable substances. Under such circumstances we have forces which act according to their nature upon vital forces capable of being acted upon, either stimulating the same to greater activity or subduing them to torpidity, as the case may be. In short, the same universal law of diffusion of forces upon forces governs not only all mental, but also all bodily activities during life. The well-known rigidity and anaesthesia, general or partial, during the mesmeric state, is explicable on the same grounds. "Rigidity and insensibility," say the committee, "have, in our observation, always been conjoined; but it is believed that this is not always the case " (Proc, Part III, p. 228). " Anaes- thesia may be confined to some special part of the subject's body chosen by ourselves. Thus a limb, or portion of a limb, after being stroked two or three times by the operator's hands, would assume a condition of perfect rigidity, to which pinch- ing, pricking, burning, or strong electric shocks might be applied without producing the slightest protestor sign of pain. This condition would last for a considerable period. Indeed, the committee have not yet observed a case in which rigidity, when once fully induced, has disappeared of its own accord. The limb is soon restored to its normal condition when stroked with the hand, in the reverse direction " (Ibid., p. 227). The insensibility is often strictly defined. All parts above a definite line, apparently limited by the range of the "passes," are in a normal condition ; all below seem as void of sensa- tion as a piece of shoe-leather. Occasionally, while all sense PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 439 of pain is destroyed, the sense of contact is, to a certain extent, preserved. When this is so the subject will feel a pin touch the skin, but cannot feel it driven into the flesh" (Ibid., p. 228). To this I shall add Dr. Braid's observations on this point : "During the state of cataleptiform rigidity the circulation becomes greatly accelerated. In many cases it has more than doubled the natural velocity ; and it may be brought down to the natural standard, in most cases in less than a minute, by reducing the cataleptiform condition. It is also found that it may be kept in a condition intermediate between these two extremes, according to the manipulations used; and that the blood is circulated with less force (the pulse being always con- tracted) in the rigid limbs, and sent in correspondingly greater quantity and force into those parts which are not directly subjected to the pressure of rigid muscles." " It is also im- portant to note, that by acting on both eyes in the manner required to induce the state of paraplegia, the force and fre- quency of the heart's action may be as speedily and percepti- bly diminished as the action of a steam-engine by turning off the steam. By again fixing the eyes its former force of velocity will be almost as speedily restored, as can be satisfactorily proved to anyone listening to its actions." (Neurypnology, or Hypnotism, p. 66.) These two series of observations are complementary to each other, and will help us to better understand these surpris- ing phenomena. Anaesthesia and rigidity may be confined to some special part of the subject's body chosen by the committee, and induced by a few strokes of the mesmerizer's hands over these parts. The mesmeric influence seems, there- fore, to affect only the parts to which it is applied. The parts lose sensation and mobility. Are the nerves or organs of sensation and motion altered? The adjoining parts above the insensible and rigid part retain their normal functions, and a reverse stroke of the operator's hand restores sensation to the affected part in a moment. All this does not favor the as- sumption of a profound change in the nerves concerned, still less of the whole nervous system, nor any inhibition of some unknown part of the brain. We are again obliged to fall back, 440 OCCULT PHENOMENA. as in the case of sight, upon the vital forces as the cause of functional activity, which are immediately acted upon by the mesmeric influence. If we add to this Dr. Braid's observation that during the cataleptic state the circulation becomes greatly accelerated, and that in the rigid limb the blood circulates with less force; that also acting on both eyes in the manner re- quired to induce paraplegia the force and frequency of the heart's action may be speedily and perceptibly diminished, and that by fixing the eyes again the former force and velocity will be almost as speedily restored — we see that mes- merization results in two opposite effects, produced at one and the same time: a dulling of sensation and mobility in the parts immediately under the mesmeric influence, and an accelera- tion of the circulation in other parts outside this direct influ- ence. How can these two opposite effects be harmonized? Dr. Braid ascribes the accelerated circulation to the difficulty, during the cataleptiform state, of the blood being propelled in due proportion through the rigid extremities, which would naturally cause a greater determination of blood to all other parts not compressed by rigid muscles. (Neurypnology , p. 155.) This mechanical view, plausible as it is, does not altogether meet the case, for it leaves the anaesthesia and rigidity unex- plained. Neither does it seem to entirely cover the ground, if we assume that mesmerization should act only upon one part (a finger or limb), and leave the remaining body unaffected. Dr. Braid seems to have felt this insufficiency, and he adds therefore : " I conclude that the ganglionic, or organic, system of nerves is also inordinately stimulated from the same cause, and thus, having acquired an undue preponderance, induces many of the remarkable phenomena which have been referred to." (Neurypnology, p. 156.) It is obvious that this clear- headed observer came very near to the truth. The ganglionic or organic (the sympathetic) system of nerves is the substratum of the vital senses, the means which they have formed and through which they act in the material world. The mesmeric influences find in the vital senses their similars, their re- sponding forces, upon which they can act ; just as light finds its corresponding forces in the sense of sight, or sound in the sense PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 441 of hearing. By this stimulation the system of vital forces, the sympathetic system, gains a preponderance over the higher senses and their organs, just as in the natural waking state the activity of the higher senses predominates over the vital senses. If we add to this (and we should remember here what has been explained in 72 and 73) that, although the vital senses have the lowest degree of conscious capabilities, the excitation of their modifications is nevertheless the same in kind as the excitation into consciousness of the modifications of the high- est senses, and is governed, therefore, by the same laws, we gain a more intelligible basis whereupon to seek for an expla- nation of the remarkable phenomena of mesmerization. Let us assume, first, then, that: The mesmeric state consists of a predominant activity of the vital senses. The vital senses are not a one power, but a system of psychic forces, comprising the respiratory, circulatory, digestive, generative and (by means of the protoplasts) the formative agents, which produce all functiones vitales (3, 72, 73, and 110). Although they possess the lowest capabilities of developing conscious modifications, their actions in a normal state proceed unconsciously, yet when greatly agitated they may subdue even the strongest conscious modifications of the higher senses, which proves that the system of vital forces is closely con- nected with the systems of the higher senses and their products. In fact, together they constitute the human soul, or as we have expressed it in other places, the human soul is a system of diverse primitive forces, from sight and hearing, endowed with the highest capabilities for conscious development, down to the lowest in the scale of conscious development — the vital forces. Now the case lies thus: When the mesmerizing influence is successful we find that the subject falls into a state of quie- tude, resembling very much that of sleep, in which, as we have seen in 103, the assimilating activities prevail over the higher activities, the activity of the higher senses; and, if allowed to con- tinue for a time, the subject will lapse into general torpor. The eyes do not see, the ears do not hear, the nose does not smell, the tongue does not taste, the skin is insensible and the mus- cles are stiffened or relaxed. 29 442 OCCULT PHENOMENA. What does this mean ? Is this really a deadening of the sense-forces ? Is it a profound change in the organs of sense, that is, an alteration in the formed materials which constitute the organs of sense ? It cannot be either the one or the other ; for a single stroke of the operator's hand, in a reverse direction, restores a mesmerized part in a moment to natural activity, or, according to Braid, extreme excitement of all the organs of sense, sight excepted, or great mobility and strength of the muscular system ensue from a puff of wind or a slight touch. {Neurypn., pp. 62-66.) How is this to be explained ? There remain for our consideration those vital forces which not only build all bodily organs, but also continually sustain their func- tions for us, that is, to our self-observation, unconsciously; but, nevertheless, their activity must be an excitation or conscious- ness of their own. If now the normal excitation is quieted down by the influence of a mesmerizer, their activity ceases, and the organ they animate loses its function, lapses into torpor, be it the organ of sight, of hearing, etc., or the nerves of general feeling, or of muscular action, or all conjoined. If, however, these vital forces are stimulated in one or the other of the sensory organs, that organ's function will be heightened in a degree which surpasses altogether its normal capabilities. Now, as the vital forces consist of a whole system of forces, and are not a one force, we can easily understand how it is that one part of the body may become wholly insensible while another is highly agitated, or in a normal condition. " The remarkable fact," says Braid, " that the whole senses may have been in the state of profound torpor and the body in a state of rigidity, and yet, by very gentle pressure over the eyeballs, the patient shall be instantly roused to the waking condition as regards all the senses and mobility of the head and neck — in short, to all parts applied by nerves originating above the origin of the fifth pair and those inosculating with them, and will not be affected by simple mechanical appliance to other organs of sense, is a striking proof that there exists some remarkable connection between the state of the eyes and condition of the brain and spinal cord during the hypnotic state." (Neurypn., p. 63 ) It further proves, I may add, that this sudden change CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 443 from "a very gentle pressure over the eyeballs," cannot denote a profound change in the nerves themselves as formed ma- terial, but must be a change only in the supply of mobile elements (vital forces), which govern that tract of nervous structure described by Braid ; that, therefore, the vital forces act not as a whole, but may be excited or subdued in the single parts of the system they are destined to animate. This, it seems to me, is the true psychological explanation of partial insensibility and rigidity, and simultaneous agitation of the circulatory system, etc., or of the torpor of all the senses and rigidity of all voluntary muscles, and at the same time the possibility of instantaneous conversion of a part or the whole into a normal state by a few strokes in a reverse direction, or other manipulations of the operator. It is founded on the reciprocal relation of soul and body, or their oneness in their primitive forces, and the diffusion of mobile elements. 118. Consciousness During the Mesmeric State. Fred. Wells remained normally conscious while under severe experimentation. Of his ten fingers, which had been securely hidden by a screen from his sight, two of them, selected by one of the committee, were mesmerized by Mr. Smith, the operator, in his usual manner, by making a few passes over them without touching them, while at the same time another of the committee made exactly like passes over two other fingers. Those mesmerized by Mr. Smith proved entirely in- sensible to the most severe stabs with a carving fork. " The stabs were on several occasions made with a violence which it required some nerve to apply, and which would have seemed barbarous to an ignorant bystander, unless he had chanced to note at the same instant the smiling silence or easy chatter of the victim." (Proa, Part I, p. 258.) This, however, is the case only when peripheral parts are under the mesmeric influence. When mesmerization commences at the head and upper parts of the body, and the entire individual has succumbed to the mesmeric influence, the condition of consciousness undergoes remarkable changes. The best observations on this point I find in the excellent 444 OCCULT PHENOMENA. article on the stages of hypnotism by Edmund Gurney (Proc., Part V, p. 61, etc.). He distinguishes two stages of the mes- meric state, the alert and the deep stage: "The alert stage," he says, " is the state in which a ' subject ' is when, after the usual preliminary period of gazing fixedly at some object held near the eye, or of having passes made over the upper part of his person, and after the usual invol- untary closure of his eyes, the strain on his eyelids is released by a few touches and words, and he is restored to what may look quite like his natural waking condition. Sometimes he will sit with a vacant air, irresponsive to every voice except that of the operator, and be clearly not in possession of his ordinary faculties. He may be made to perform imitative actions and to obey commands in a mechanical way; but his consciousness may be at a very low ebb, or (as some have held) may have lapsed altogether. But even these cases will exhibit two characteristics of the alert stage which are also character- istics of normal waking — the ' subject's' eyes will be open and capable of seeing; and he will (almost invariably) prove sen- sitive to pain if he be pinched or pricked. Very often, how- ever, the resemblance to normal wakefulness is far closer than this; for the ' subject' will be found to converse with perfect comprehension, memory and even humor, but he does not originate remarks. If not spoken to he will sit quietly, and if simply asked what he is thinking about he will almost always answer 'nothing.' If he be left completely to himself he will rapidly sink into the deeper state, and thence into hypnotic sleep, in either of which he will prove insensitive to any moderate amount of torture." " The passage into these deeper conditions, it should be observed, is often so rapid that the fact of their being reached through the alert stage may be wholly unnoticed. If the 'subject' is taken in hand during those few seconds before his eyes closed, and had been talked to or kept employed, this passage into the deeper state would have been prevented ; but if he is allowed to follow the natural course without interference, he will simply be seen to go to sleep, and he must be awakened by the operator before any phenomena can be exhibited." "The 'subject' can be made to do, and to continue doing, any action which the operator commands, although he may be perfectly conscious of making a fool of himself, and may strongly desire to resist the com- mand. He can also be put under the influence of delusions, can have his senses deceived, so that he mistakes salt for sugar, ammonia for eau-de-Cologne; or can even be made to CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 445 believe that he is in some distant place, or that his identity is changed." " The deep stage is in turn liable to be confounded with the genuine hypnotic sleep. It resembles that condition in the fact that the eyelids are closed ; that if one of them be forci- bly raised the eyeball is found to be rolled upward; in the general insensibility to pain and to ordinary modes of stimulation. And there exists here precisely the same chance as we noted in the former case, that the particular stage will escape detection. If the ' subject ' be left to himself he will have no opportunity to manifest its characteristics, but passing rapidly through the period during which these might be re- voked, will soon lose consciousness and individuality in pro- found slumber. With some ' subjects,' moreover, the invasion of mental torpor is so rapid that it might be hard to fix and retain them in the genuine deep stage, even if the proper means were adopted. But many others, if taken in time, after their eyes are closed and they have become insensible to pain, but before sleep has intervened, will prove quite capa- ble of rational conversation. They are mentally awake, even when their bodies are almost past movement, and when even a simple command is obeyed in the most languid and imper- fect manner. This state is, however, harder to sustain at an even level than the alert one, owing to a stronger and more continuous tendency to lapse into a deeper condition. In the alert state the ' subject ' can usually be kept going for an in- definite time ; in the deep state he usually shows an increas- ing dislike to being questioned or meddled with." As regards " memory and recollection" Mr. E. Gurney states, in the same paper, the following most interesting observa- tions : 1. " The events of normal life are remembered in either of the mesmeric stages" (p. 69, loco cit). 2. " Recollection on waking of what has happened in the mesmeric state is frequently observed in 'subjects' quite fresh to hypnotism, especially of such actions as are usually exhibited on platforms — imitative movements, sneezing, laugh- ing, jumping and the like — also the effort to recall his name ; and he perfectly recalls not only the actions, but the feelings of acquiescence or of surprise, or of repugnance with which he performed them. A not uncommon description is that he felt as if he had two selves, one which was looking on at the involuntary performances of the other without thinking it worth while to interfere. Of performances which have in- 44G OCCULT PHENOMENA. volved more complex mental ideas, and where his mind has been at the mercy of some concrete form of delusion, his re- membrance is dimmer. But still he will give some account of parts played by him in imaginary scenes, or even when under the impression that he was someone or something other than himself. After a very short course of hypnotization these illusory changes of scene or of identity, and even the simple mental operation of trying to recall some familiar fact, are found to have left no trace on waking; but the * subject' can still perfectly recollect the imitative and other actions which he has performed in propria persona, and the sort of feeling which accompanied them " (p. G7, loco tit). 3. " With a favorable ' subject,' something that has hap- pened during one of the hypnotic states will often recur to the memory on the next occasion when that state is produced, though in the interval of normality — amounting, it may be, to several days and nights — which has intervened between the two occasions, it has been completely forgotten." 4. " The same phenomena will occur, and even much more certainly, when a deep state intervenes between two alert, or an alert between two deep states. I have then found that the ideas impressed in the one sort of state are invariably forgotten in the other, and are as invariably again remembered when the former state recurs. Thus the ' subject,' when in the alert state, is told something — some anecdote or piece of ordinary information — which we will call A. He is then thrown, or allowed to fall, into the deep state with closed eyes, and is asked, ' What were you told just now? ' He is quite unaware what is meant, nor will the broadest hints recall the missing idea. He is now told something else, which we will call B, and is then reawakened into the alert state. Being asked the same question as before, he at once repeats not B, but A, and it is impossible to evoke in him any memory of B. Thrown again into the deep state, he in a similar way recalls B, and A has once more vanished. Finally he is completely awakened, informed that two things have been told w T ithin the last five minutes, and offered £10 to sa}^ what either of them was — w T ith a result entirely satisfactoiy to the experimenter. Occasionally I have succeeded in hitting a transitional moment, at which both things were remembered; but it was a sort of knife-edge, and the slightest manipulation or pause tending to deepen the condition brought about the customary separation and oblivion of the thing told in the alert state " (p. 70). 5. Exceptions. , " If the idea impressed in the alert state is a delusion, involving either a change of scene or a change of CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 447 identity, it is not remembered in the usual way." "Waking to the alert state by any sudden means always ensured forgetful- ness, carrying the ' subject' at once over that low degree of the alert stage where recurrence of the delusion was possible. If brought back to the alert stage by gentle upward passes, or also if the same delusion be again suggested in a general way, the details of the former one will be remembered." 6. " If to one idea, e. g., that he cannot move his arm, another action is added, e. g., reading a newspaper, the ' subject ' will, on returning again to the alert out of the deep stage, remem- ber only one of the two." 7. " If the thing impressed on the ' subject's ' mind in the deep state is a command which he is to execute ' on waking? he will execute it as soon as he returns to the alert state ; or, if allowed to w T ork off his trance in natural sleep, he will usually perform the act on normal waking ; but if the act has been per- formed in the alert state, he will have no recollection of it when brought to his normal state." " A singular point in connection with this obedience is that it seems apt to fail in cases where a vivid and interesting idea is suggested at the same time as the command." 8. " Obedience also fails in the following case : If a com- mand has been imposed in the deep state and the ' subject ' is woke into the alert, and then, before he has time to perform it, is put under a delusion, this will suspend the performance of the act. Thus, a youth w T ho had been told that he was to put on his hat and begin reading the newspaper, and had then been roused, was on the point of carrying out the command when he was suddenly told he was a chicken. He instantly went down on the floor and began to cluck. He was then allowed to lapse into the deep state, and again brought out of it; he now at once performed the order. In this particular instance the order was not remembered in the second deep state, though carried out on emergence from it. But this feature was not found to be constant " (p. 72, loco cit.). The first question arising here is : Why are the events of normal life remembered in either of the mesmeric stages? One W'Ould suppose that if there be difficulty in carrying con- sciousness from the mesmeric into the waking state, there would exist a like difficulty the other way ; but this is evidently not the case according to all experience. Why, then, are the events of normal life carried into consciousness in either of the mesmeric stages? Because the mesmeric condition 448 OCCULT PHENOMENA. does not alter or change in any way the contents of the mind, that is, its acquired modifications. They remain unaffected, and will be made conscious whenever mobile elements excite them, be that during waking or in either of the mesmeric stages. But, second question : Why are the events which happen during the mesmeric state forgotten in the waking state? Because these impressions are formed on an evanescing basis, under a transient condition which, when disappearing, with- draws also the basis of all that has been enacted upon it, and dissolves, not the modifications excited then and there, but the connection that existed between the single parts of these enactments. We have already, in 103, spoken of this singular phenomenon as it presents itself in the non-remembrance of some dreams. This evanescing basis or transient condition consists in the preponderating excitation of the sympathetic system (the system of vital forces) over the higher senses, which latter alone are endowed with capabilities for the de- velopment of clear, conscious and enduring modifications and combinations in consequence of their greater retentive power (7). The vital forces and lower senses lack this quality, and although their development produces the same forms of mental modifications — percepts, conations and feel- ings — these percepts only attain to vague sensations, the cona- tions to vague desires, and the feelings to vague moods. Thus it is clear that mental enactments roused into conscious- ness upon such a basis must necessarily lose their connex whenever this condition gives way to the preponderance of the higher senses, the " waking" state — that, in short, they are forgotten. But they are not forgotten in many instances, as Gurney's observations, cited above, clearly show. Recollection is carried into the waking state most frequently in fresh " subjects." " A not uncommon description of the 'subject's' observation is that he felt as if he had two selves — one which was looking on at the involuntary performances of the other without think- ing it worth while to interfere." This clearly confirms our position. In the fresh " subject" the transition into the mes- meric state is not a perfect one; it is still mixed to a certain CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 449 extent with the influence of the higher senses, is still con- nected with a partial consciousness of waking life. It is this remnant of waking life which forms the observing self, while the involuntary performances, pranks, etc., induced on the basis of excited vital forces, constitute the other self. Both belong to the same soul, both are, therefore, selves of the "subject," and, therefore, the comparison with two selves is not improperly chosen. When, however, " the performances involve more complex mental ideas, and where the mind has been at the mercy of some concrete form of delusion, his remembrance is dimmer," because the mental ideas and concrete delusions conjoined by the transient condition of the mesmeric state will readily fall asunder when this condition ceases. But still some parts of the enactment will remain connected as far as the remnants of w T aking life have taken part in their formation. We should not wonder then " that after a very short course of hypnoti- zation these illusory changes of scene or identity, etc., are found to have left no trace on waking ; " for the frequent repetition of the mesmeric state makes that state more perfect, and sepa- rates it more sharply from the influence of the higher senses of the waking state, while the imitative and other actions which the "subject" has performed in 'propria persona cling still to the •modifications of the muscular sense and its normal actions, so that they can be drawn over into the consciousness of normal waking; that is, the " subject" will recollect them and also the sort of feeling which accompanied them. 3. A still greater proof of the correctness of this view is the observation " that something that has happened during one of the hypnotic states will often recur to the memory on the next occasion when that state is produced, though in the in- terval .of normality — amounting, it may be, to several days and nights — which has intervened between the two occa- sions, it has been completely forgotten." The reason why it is forgotten during the normal state is because the preponder- ance of the higher senses withdraws the basis upon which it was formed, and dissolves, therefore, the connection by which it w T as made a conscious " something," while this connection 450 OCCULT PHENOMENA. will be re-established again when the same conditions of exci- tation during the preponderance of the vital forces are again in full activity. This same feature has been observed in per- sons who, during a state of intoxication, had put something in a certain place which, on getting sober, they had entirely forgotten, but is remembered readily on the next occasion in which they are in the same drunken condition. It is not the " something " that is lost or extinguished ; but it is the changed condition which makes it possible or not to excite it again into consciousness. Even during the waking state we observe facts which approach to some extent this peculiar fitness or unfitness for reproducing things long gone by. A beautiful spring day, with its balmy air, may suddenly recall in us scenes and occurrences of our childhood, without having any similarity to them except the peculiar mood which it arouses in us, and wdiich corresponds to that of the by-gone days ; and so must the poet or philosopher be in a suitable mood for the successful operation of his mind, without which the necessary mental modifications will not rise into conscious excitation, although he may possess them. 4. " The same phenomena will occur, and even much more certainly, when a deep state intervenes between two alert, or an alert between two deep states." The reason is the same: The conditions of the two stages differ likewise from one an- other. While the alert stage still retains some elements of the waking state, the deep stage appears entirely void of them, and its enactments ensue, therefore, upon a still more dissimilar basis. With the change of this basis, either way, the connec- tion between the single items, which is produced by the mobile elements of this very basis, is broken up also, and only upon a renewal of the same condition can this connection be re-es- tablished. It is not, to repeat it again, that the items of the enactments themselves cease to exist; it is only their connec- tion and excitation, produced at the time by the then prevail- ing mobile elements (which fade away with the conditions then existing), and therefore their reproduction in consciousness whenever these conditions are re-established. This explains also why, as Gurney expresses it, "in hitting a transitional CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 451 moment," that is, a moment where the bases of the two states are intermingling, both things, one made conscious in the alert and the other in the deep stage, may be remembered, because at that moment the elements for the excitation of both things are present. We have yet to consider the, exceptions stated by E. Gurney, to these regular occurrences. 5. If the idea impressed in the alert state is a delusion, in- volving either a change of scene or a change of identity, it is not remembered when the waking from the deep to the alert stage is done by any sudden means; but when the "subject" is brought back by gentle upward passes the delusion may revive again. These delusory enactments (the "subject" being made to believe himself elsewhere than in the room where he actually is, or to assume the part of another person or an animal) are so foreign to the entire normal contents of the mind, and themselves such unreal and artificial combinations, that it requires a low degree of the alert stage to induce them as realities in the mind of the " subject." In the nature of delusions lies, therefore, their tendency to dissolution; and they can be brought about only when the "subject" is near the boundary of the deep stage, far away from any influence of the higher senses. " Waking to the alert state by any sudden means always ensured forgetfulness, carrying the 'sub- ject' over that low degree of the alert stage where recurrence of the delusion was possible." Only broad hints may again renew the former delusory imaginations. All this confirms the correctness of our view that remem- brance even of delusions is possible only on the same basis, or the same mental condition upon which they were pro- duced. 6. If to the one idea, e. g., that he cannot move his arm, another action is added, e. g., reading a newspaper, the "sub- ject" will, on returning from the deep to the alert stage, re- member only one of the two. "A boy's arm was thus extended. He became unable to talk rationally, and, being set to read aloud, he did so in a stupid and mechanical way, and could not recollect what he had read. He was now passed into the deep state, during which his arm 452 OCCULT PHENOMENA. dropped, and, on being recalled from this state, was asked what he had been doing just before he went to sleep. He replied that he was holding his arm out, but both forgot and utterly denied the fact of reading." In this case evidently the reading of the newspaper ensued on a lower plane of the alert stage than the stiffening of his arm ; for he became unable to talk rationally, he read in a stupid way and could not recollect what he had read, and then passed into the deep state. Each of the two actions was, there- fore, enacted upon a different basis, which prevented their union into one conscious act; and, on being recalled from the following deep state, he was at once carried over that low de- gree of the alert stage where a recurrence of " his having been reading" was possible, and therefore remembered only what had been enacted on a higher degree of his alert stage, "the holding out of his arm." Mr. E. Gurney makes to these " ex- ceptions " the following most appropriate remark : " There are thus sub-divisions of recollective power within the alert stage itself." 7. If a command is impressed on the subject in the deep stage, and a vivid and interesting idea is suggested at the same time, obedience will fail in such a case. "Thus, several subjects who were told in the deep state that a fire had broken out at home, and that they must go and help to put it out, on being recalled to the alert state, sat without moving, and denied any impulse to do anything." Here we have undoubtedly a differ- ent psychical process from that in the case above related. The command is, so to say, "swallowed up" by the vivid idea, or so intimately incorporated with the same, that its revival would be possible only with a revival of the same idea. As, however, on entering the alert stage the idea loses its excitation, the command is also forgotten; or, as Mr. Gurney correctly ob- serves : "The idea produced a strong mental picture which, in disappearing with the change of state, involved the further dis- appearance of the sense of obligation " (p. 72, loco cit). Obedience in the waking state to a command impressed during the mesmeric state needs some further remarks. The " subject " brings no recollection into the normal state of a command given CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 453 to him while entranced. He merely feels an impulse to do so and so, and has no ease until it is done. But he absolutely knows nothing of who gave this order, or when and under what cir- cumstances it was given. It is, therefore, not a " recollection," but a reproduction of a conative modification. (Compare 102.) A similar process, although in a reverse order, takes place when, before going to sleep, we determine to wake up at a cer- tain hour. In either case the conative modification (to do something) continues to exist, although its association with other modifi- cations, then conscious, vanishes with the change of basis fol- lowing. Only as a command and determination it survives these changes, and unfolds its activity when the condition for it arrives. Command, as well as determination, imply striving elements, and it is a fitting expression used by the " subject " when he describes the feeling as a mere impulse to do so. In the same way the sleeper is not conscious of anything. He merely commences to feel restless about the time he has determined to wake, and he wakes up. 8. That obedience should fail when its execution is inter- rupted by another lively delusion, is quite natural, the latter taking up the mobile elements necessary for the performance. It will be executed on the next waking, if nothing interferes. Such events happen to us every day in normal life. We are on the point of doing something when we are interrupted by the occurrence of something else, which makes us forget our first intention completely until the new excitement is over. That the command is sometimes not remembered when the "subject" is again put into the deep state, though carried out on emergence from it, depends on whether the association under which it was given is also renewed in the second deep stage. If this is the case, the command will be resuscitated into consciousness ; if not, it will not be remembered. This is the reason why " this feature was not found to be constant" (p. 72, loco cit). We find still other and highly important experiments made by Mr. E. Gurney, in this very interesting state of conscious- ness during the post-hypnotic performance of a hypnotic com- 454 OCCULT PHENOMENA. mand. They are ably presented by the author in Vol. IV of the Proc. S. P. R., from page 268-323, under the heading: " Peculiarities of Certain Post-hypnotic States." The question has been raised : " Whether the mind of the ' subject,' during the post-hypnotic performance of a hypnotic command, is in its ordinary waking state, and the idea of per- forming the action presents itself just as scores of ideas whose immediate origin is not obvious, and is carried out just as any spontaneous whim might be carried out?" Mr. Gurney's answer is: "That the psychological condition of the 'subject' during the post-hypnotic performance of hypnotic commands, and also during the intermediate period after waking and f>rior to the performance, really admits of great variety." Vol. IV, p. 269.) " There are cases in which no reason whatever appears for regarding the state in which the action is performed as other than normal. The ' subject's ' account of it afterward is as of something which it just occurred to him he would like to do, and which he did because he chose. While he does it he is in his usual relation to the external world, and can converse naturally and rationally, and both the performance itself and the surrounding circumstances are completely remembered afterward " (p. 270). The only peculiarity in these cases is the absence of recol- lection of the fact that a command had been imposed. The conative modification alone was reproduced by means of a given signal, which had been enjoined upon the "subject" during the trance-state when the command was made, for instance, to do a certain thing after a certain action of Mr. Gurney's. In some cases even a faint recollection of the source from which the impulse originated was dimly resusci- tated, so that the " subject" flatly refused to obey, saying: " I know you want me to do it, but I shall not do it ; it is too absurd;" because she w T as w T ider awake in consequence of former experiences, and thus able to discriminate between her own normal impulses and such as were imposed upon her. " There are cases where the action, though performed with every appearance of naturalness and without any impairment of the normal consciousness, proves to be completely forgotten within a few seconds of its performance ' (p. 271). Yet even this was not a constant sign, as there were cases wdiere the memory of the action remained intact. CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 455 "A still better test to prove the abnormality of mind during the performance of the action was the imposition of a new command, of a sort that the 'subject would regard as a joke and would never carry out if he received it when in a normal state, but which would be fulfilled as a matter of course if im- pressed on him in a state of hypnotic sensibility" (p. 271); or by " imposing, while the execution was in progress, not the command of a future action, but the suggestion of a future hallucination-" for instance: "W — s was told that as soon as he came next day he was to take an umbrella from a corner of the room, open it and walk about the room with it. He arrives and at once fulfills the order; and while he is examin- ing the umbrella, Mr. S. (the mesmerizer) tells him that when he (Mr. S.) asks him after his wife, I (Mr. Gurney) shall dis- appear. Immediately after this a change came over W — s' face, and he ceased fumbling with the umbrella, and asked in surprise how he came by it. Some other experiments ensue, and then, while he is talking quite naturally to me, Mr. S. says to him, * How is your wife, Fred ?' He instantly looks up and around, asks where Mr. Gurney has gone to, and shows much astonishment" (p. 272). " Yet another test was suggested by the fact that things heard in the hypnotic state, though forgotten on waking, are remembered when the hypnotic state again supervenes. If the 1 subject,' while post-hypnotically executing an order, showed remembrance of some quite different topic which had been suggested to him while entranced, it would be the strongest proof that the state of trance was to some extent renewed, espe- cially when the idea was one that had been suggested on some quite different occasion, and so could not have been in any way associated with the command." This, too, was proved by experiments with the "subject" "W — s, who remembered during his post-hypnotic performances things which had been suggested to him in former mesmerizations not at all con- nected with the present (pp. 273 and 274). These various experiments show distinctly that the post- hypnotic state during the performance of a hypnotic command is a more or less abnormal state of the mind, whether the memory of the action vanishes or continues afterward. Mr. Gurney distinguishes this state by the term " trance-waking," and some French author has called it "veille somnambulique." The recognition of it and its proof by experiments is quite a pro- gress toward a better knowledge of these obscure mental pro- 450 OCCULT PHENOMENA. cesses, and may help us still further in deciphering them. Mr. Gurney carries his researches still farther, and examines also the mental state which lies between the hypnotic state and the time when a hypnotic command ripens into perform- ance. We have stated already that a hypnotic command produces in the mind of the " subject " a conative modification, which is resuscitated as soon as the signal for its execution is given, either by the lapse of a certain time, or the entering into a certain room, or another sign made by someone and enjoined upon the " subject " during the hypnotic state. It runs parallel to the knot we bind in our handkerchief to remind us of something we want to do, which we might other- wise forget; or to the particular signs impressed during trance by van Ghert and Kieser in order to make the " subjects " remem- ber their trance states when perceiving them on coming back to the normal state. No doubt this explanation will be sufficient in many cases, especially where the time after the hypnotic command is short, or the signal, e. g., the entering of the same room where the hypnotization had taken place, might reinstate the same condition and set the impulse free, etc. Although this explanation does not rest upon a physiological basis, such as automatical action (which explains nothing and which has been spoken of on some former occasions as a mere play with words), yet even taken psychologically it is not fully sufficient for all the cases known. To these cases we must count those where a long time is set between the command and its performance, without the date of the day being mentioned, or marking the first day of the year, of a month or a week, etc., by any peculiarity, but where the command is simply that such or such a thing shall be performed by the " subject " after, say 69 or 119 days have elapsed. " The vital (physiological) process," Mr. Gurney remarks trenchantly to this, "will no more work out such a measurement as this than a school-boy's digestion will work out a proposition of Euclid." Nor will, we may add, any psychological process hit the date without actually counting it out and watching its coming, not even during normal consciousness. There must be something in activity deeper than a mere external signal to rouse the hypnotically implanted impulse CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 457 into action at the proper time, a time which not only requires to be accurately calculated, but which must also be watched as it approaches. The normal consciousness of the "subject" knows nothing of the command, consequently cannot calculate the date of its performance nor watch its coming. What then, in such cases, does count out the date and watch its approach? To answer this question Mr. Gurney has made a series of experiments, the result of which he sums up in the following words (p. 293) : " They exhibit in a direct and conspicuous way a secondary memory and secondary play of mind in the post-hypnotic state, and the severance of the normal or primary from the latent or secondary consciousness." " The secondary ' self ' took its .own course in such complete independence of what passed during its latent period, while the primary ' self was ostensibly in possession of the field, that external impressions then received passed unregarded, and there was no moment at which the doings of the two selves were juxtaposed or asso- ciated in normal consciousness." "Again, as regards the hidden processes of mentation during the period preceding the fulfillment of a command, our evidence so far has been derived from the statements made by the 'subject' when once more in a state of trance. But we shall now be able to ascertain the workings of this secondary consciousness in the reckoning of time and signals, without any previous calling of it to the front by rehypnotization; its work is not only done, but tested, while the normal self remains uninteruptedly in the ascendant, and shows absolutely no sign of change. Yet again, we shall now find manifestations of other sorts of reflection and calculation, which go considerably beyond mere temporal measurements in the degree of hidden psychical activity which they involve." To make this clear, I shall cop} 7 the following experiments : " P— 11 (the ' subject ') was told on March 26th, that on the 123d day from then he was to put a blank sheet of paper in an envelope and send it to a friend, of mine, whose name and residence he knew, but whom he had never seen. The subject was not referred to again till April 18th, when he was hypno- tized and asked if he remembered anything in connection with this gentleman. He at once repeated the order, and said : 'This is the 23d day; a hundred more.' " Mr. S. — ' How do you know ? Have you noted each day ? '' " P — 11. — ' No ; it seemed natural.' 30 458 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 11 Mr. S.— ' Have you thought of it often V "P — 11. — 'It generally strikes me in the morning, early. Something seems to say, ' You have got to count.' " Mr. S. — ' Does that happen every day ? ' M P — 11. — ' No, not every day ; perhaps more like every other day. It goes from my mind ; I never think of it during the day. I only know it's got to he done.' " Questioned further, he made it clear that the interval between these impressions was never long enough to be doubtful. He 1 may not think of it for two or three days, then something seems to tell him.' He was questioned again on April 20th, and at once said : ' That is going on all right ; twenty-five days;' and on April 22d, when in trance, he spontaneously recalled the subject and added, 'twenty-seven days.' After he was awakened, on April 18th, I asked him if he knew the gentleman in question or had been thinking about him. He was clearly surprised at the question, said he fancied he had once seen him in my room (which, however, was not the case), and that the idea of him had never since crossed his mind." (Proa, Vol. IV, p. 290.) "On March 16th, I showed P — 11 a planchette — he had never seen or touched one before — and got him to write his name with it. He was then hypnotized and told that it had been as dark as night in London on the previous day, and that he would be able to write what he had heard. He was awoke, and, as usual, offered a sovereign to say what it was that he had been told. He was then placed with his hand on the planchette, a large screen being held in front of his face, so that it was impossible for him to see the paper or instrument. In less than a minute the writing began. The words were : It was a dark day in London yesterday. He professed, as did all the 'subjects' on every occasion, complete ignorance as to what he had written, and, I believe, with perfect truth. I repeatedly expressed a desire to know, and offered the sover- eign if they would tell me; but their account was always that the instrument took their hand with it, and that they could not detejct what letters it formed. They showed no curiosity in the