r I PSYCHOLOGY BY JOHN DEWEY, Ph.D. ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN MICHIGAN UNIVERSITY NEW YOKK HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 1887 Copyright, 1886, by Harper & Brothers. All right) reserved. '^ V V PREFACE. Any book, written as this one is, expressly for use in class-room instruction, must meet one question with which text-books outside the realm of philosophy are not harassed. What shall be its attitude towards phil- osophic principles ? This is a question which may be suppressed, but cannot be avoided. The older works, indeed, were not so much troubled by it, for it is only recently that psychology has attained any independent standing. As long as psychology was largely a com- pound of logic, ethics, and metaphysics, the only thing possible was to serve this compound, mingled with ex- tracts from the history of philosophy. And it must not be forgotten that such a course had one decided advantage : it made psychology a good introduction to the remaining studies of the philosophic curriculum. But at present, aside from the fact that there is already an abundance of text-books of this style, which it were idle to increase, psychology seems deserving of a treat- ment on its own account. On the other hand, there are books which attempt to leave behind all purely philosophic considerations, and confine themselves to the facts of scientific psy- chology. Such books certainly have the advantage of IV PREFACE. abandoning — or, at least, of the opportunity of aban- doning — a mass of material which has no part nor lot in psychology, and which should long ago have been relegated to the history of metaphysics. But one can hardly avoid raising the question whether such surren- der of philosophic principles be possible. No writer can create nor recreate his material, and is it quite like- ly that the philosophic implications embedded in the very heart of psychology are not got rid of when they are kept out of sight. Some opinion regarding the nature of the mind and its relations to reality will show itself on almost every page, and the fact that this opinion is introduced without the conscious intention of the writer may serve to confuse both the author and his reader. But to me one other consideration seems decisive against such a course. It does not have due reference to the historic conditions of our instruction. One es- sential element in the situation is that it is the custom of our colleges to make psychology the path by which to enter the fields of philosophy. How, then, shall we unite the advantages of each class of text-books? That is to say, how shall we make our psychology scientific and up to the times, free from metaphysics — which, however good in its place, is out of place in a psychology — and at the same time make it an introduction to philosophy in general? While I cannot hope to have succeeded in presenting a psychology which shall satisfactorily answer this question, it does appear to me an advantage to have PREFACE. V kept this question in mind, and to have written with reference to it. I have accordingly endeavored to avoid all material not strictly psychological, and to re- flect the investigations of scientific specialists in this branch ; but I have also endeavored 'to arrange the ma- terial in such a way as to lead naturally and easily to the problems which the student will meet in his fur- ther studies, to suggest the principles along which they shall find their solutions, and, above all, to develop the philosophic spirit. I am sure that there is a way of raising questions, and of looking at them, which is philosophic ; a way which the beginner can find more easily in psychology than elsewhere, and which, when found, is the best possible introduction to all specific philosophic questions. The following pages are the author's attempt to help the student upon this way. CONTENTS. INTKODUCTOEY. CHAPTER I. Nature and Method op Psychology 1-14 § 1. Definition, Subject-matter of Psychology. ... 1 § 2. Method of Psychology 6 1. Introspective 6 2. Experimental 9 3. Comparative 10 4. Objective 11 CHAPTER II. Mind and Modes op Activity 15-26 1. Cognition. Feeling. Will . 15 2. Relations to Each Other 17 3. Relations to the Whole Self 21 PAET L— KNOWLEDGE. CHAPTER III. Elements op Knowledge 27-80 § 1. Sensation in General (introductory). ...... 27 I. Physical Stimulus 28 II. Physiological Stimulus 30 III. Psychical Factor 33 IV. Relations of Psychical and Physiological. 37 V. Functions of Sensation in Psychical Life . 44 § 2. Special Senses (introductory) 46 Relations to Touch 47 viii CONTENTS. PAGE § 3. Touch 50 Weber's Law and Psycho-physical Methods . 52 Muscular Sensation 5G §4. Smell . 59 §5. Taste 61 § 6. Hearing 63 §7. Sight 68 § 8. Temperature 74 § 9. General Sensation 75 CHAPTER IV. Processes of Knowledge 81-155 § 1. Nature of Problem 81 Sensations and Known Objects 81 The Knowing Self 84 § 2. Apperception 85 A. Problem of Apperception 85 B. Kinds of Apperception 89 § 3. Association 90 A. Conditions (positive and negative) ... 90 B. Forms 92 I. Simultaneous or Fusion 93 II. Successive by Contiguity .... 98 By Similarity 103 C. Function of Association Ill Mechanical and Automatic Activities . 113 § 4. Dissociation 117 I. Relation to Association 117 II. Conditions ... 120 III. Functions in Psychical Life 129 § 5. Attention 132 Definition 133 I. Attention as Selecting Activity .... 133 II. Attention as Adjusting Activity . ... 138 III. Attention as Relating Activity .... 143 § 6. Retention 148 Results 151 CONTENTS. i x CHAPTER V. PAGS Stages of Ivnowledge.— Perception 156-175 § 1. Knowledge as Self -Development 15G § 2. Perception 158 I. Of Objects ; : . . . 161 II. Of Space . 162 III. Of Externality in General ..... 172 CHAPTER VI. Memory . . . 176-191 1. Definition and Problem 176 2. The Memory Image 181 3. Memory of Time 183 4. Self as Past and Present *. . . . 189 CHAPTER VII. Imagination 192-201 1. Definition 192 2. Ideals in Imagination 196 3. Practical and Theoretical 200 CHAPTER VIII. Thinking 202-234 § 1. Definition and Division 202 §2. Conception 204 Growth of Knowledge 210 § 3. Judgment -213 Belief 218 § 4. Reasoning 220 A priori and a posteriori ..«-..... 223 Inductive and Deductive ....»:*-. 224 § 5. Systematization 231 CHAPTER IX. Intuition 235-245 1. Intuition of the World 238 2. Intuition of Self 242 3. Intuition of God , 244 CONTENTS. PAKT II.— FEELING. CHAPTER X. PAGE Introduction to Feeling 246-249 CHAPTER XL Sensuous Feeling 250-261 CHAPTER XII. Formal Feeling 262-274 1. Feelings of Present Adjustment 264 2. Feelings Due to Past Experiences 267 3. Feeling Directed Towards the Future 273 CHAPTER XIII. Development of Qualitative Feeling 275-295 1. Development in Universality 278 2. Development in Definiteness 285 3. Abnormal Feelings 289 4. Conflict of Feelings 290 CHAPTER XIV. Intellectual Feelings 296-308 1. General Nature 296 2. Its Spring to Intellectual Action 303 3. Its Objective Side 306 CHAPTER XV. ^Esthetic Feeling 309-325 1. General Nature 309 Connection with Idealization 310 Universality of Beauty 313 Factors of ^Esthetic Feeling. —Harmony . . 315 2. As a Spring to Action 317 The Fine Arts 317 3. The ^Esthetic Judgment.— Taste 322 CONTENTS. x [ CHAPTER XVI. PAGE Personal Feeling 326-346 1. General Nature 326 Social Feelings 328 Moral Feelings 335 Religious Feelings 337 2. As Spring to Action 340 Social Institutions 341 3. The Personal Judgment. — Conscience 344 PAET III.— THE WILL. CHAPTER XVII. Sensuous Impulses 347-358 Reflex Action 349 Impulses of Perception . 351 Instinctive Impulses 353 Instincts of Expression 354 CHAPTER XVIII. Development of Volition 359-373 1. Desire 360 2. Choice 365 Motive 366 3. Realization of Motive . 368 CHAPTER XIX. Physical Control 374-386 1. Localization of Motor Impulses 376 2. Combination of Motor Impulses 380 CHAPTER XX. Prudential Control 387-398 1. Development of Desire 388 2. Choice of End and Means 391 xii CONTENTS. PAGE 3. Forms of Prudential Control 394 Practical 394 Intellectual . 396 Emotional 396 CHAPTER XXI. Moral Control 399-416 1. Development of Ethical Desires 405 2. Ethical Choice 407 3. Result of Moral Action 411 Generic Volition 412 Regulation of Desires 413 Accurate and Intuitive Choice 413 Effective Execution 414 CHAPTER XXII. Will as the Source of Ideals and of their Real- ization 417-424 Appendix A 425 Appendix B 426 PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER I. THE SCIENCE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. § 1. The Subject-matter of Psychology. Definition of Psychology : Psychology is the Science of the Facts or Phenomena of Self — This definition cannot be expected to give, at the outset, a clear and complete notion of what the science deals with, for the reason that it is the business of psychology to clear up and develop what is meant by facts of self. Other words, however, may be used to bring out the mean- ing somewhat. Ego is a term used to express the fact that self has the power of recognizing itself as I, or a separate existence or personality. Mind is also a term used, and suggests especially the fact that self is intelligent. Soul is a term which calls to mind the dis- tinction of the self from the body, and yet its connec- tion with it. Psychical is an adjective used to designate the facts of self, and suggests the contrast with physi- cal phenomena, which exist externally. Subject is often used, and expresses the fact that the self lies under and holds together all feelings, purposes, and ideas ; and serves to differentiate the self from the object — that 1 2 PSYCHOLOGY. which lies over against self. Spirit is a term used, es- pecially in connection with the higher activities of self, and calls to mind its distinction from matter and me- chanical modes of action. Fundamental Characteristic of Self. — This is the fact of consciousness. The self not only exists, but it knows that it exists; psychical phenomena are not only facts, but they are facts of consciousness. A stick, a stone, exists and undergoes changes ; that is, has expe- riences. But it is aware neither of its existence nor of these changes. It does not, in short, exist for itself It exists only for some consciousness. Consequently the stone has no self. But the soul not only is, and changes, but it knows that it is, and what these experi- ences are which it passes through. It exists for itself That is to say, it is a self. What distinguishes the facts of psychology from the facts of every other sci- ence is, accordingly, that they are conscious facts. Consciousness. — Consciousness can neither be defined nor described. We can define or describe anything only by the employment of consciousness. It is pre- supposed, according^, in all definition ; and all at- tempts to define it must move in a circle. It cannot be defined by discriminating it from the unconscious, for this either is not known at all, or else is known only as it exists for consciousness. Consciousness is necessary for the definition of what in itself is uncon- scious. Psychology, accordingly, can study only the various forms of consciousness, showing the conditions under which they arise. The Self or Individual. — We have seen that the pe- culiar characteristic of the facts of self is that they are conscious, or exist for themselves. This implies further SCIENCE AND METHOD. 3 that the self is individual, and all the facts of self are individual facts. They are unique in this. A fact of physics, or of chemistry, for the very reason that it does not exist for itself, exists for anybody or every- body who wishes to observe it. It is a fact which can be known as directly and immediately by one as by another. It is universal, in short. Now, a fact of psy- chology does not thus lie open to the observation of all. It is directly and immediately known only to the self which experiences it. It is a fact of my or your con- sciousness, and only of mine or yours. Communication of an Individual State. — It may be communicated to others, but the first step in this coin^ munication is changing it from a psychical fact to a physical fact. It must be expressed through non-con- scious media — the appearance of the face, or the use of sounds. These are purely external. They are no long- er individual facts. The next step in the communica- tion is for some other individual to translate this ex- pression, or these sounds,into his own consciousness. He must make them part of himself before he knows what they are. One individual never knows directly what is in the self of another ; he knows it only so far as he is able to reproduce it in his own self. The fact of the existence of self or of consciousness is, accordingly, a unique individual fact. Psychology deals with the in- dividual, or self, while all other sciences, as mathemat- ics, chemistry, biology, etc., deal with facts which are universal, and are not facts of self, but facts presented to the selves or minds which know them. delation of Psychology to Other Sciences. — Psychology holds, therefore, a twofold relation to all other sciences. On the one hand, it is co-ordinated with other sciences, 4 PSYCHOLOGY. as simply Laving a different and higher subject-matter than they. The student may begin with bodies most remote from himself, in the science of astronomy. He may then study the globe upon which he lives, in ge- ography, geology, etc. He may then study the living beings upon it, botany, zoology, etc. Finally he may come to his own body, and study human physiology. Leaving his body, lie may then study his own self. Such a study is psychology. Thus considered, psychol- ogy is evidently simply one science among others. Psychology a Central Science. — But this overlooks one aspect of the case. All the other sciences deal only with facts or events which are known ; but the fact of knowledge thus involved in all of them no one of them lias said anything about. It lias treated the facts simply as existent facts, while they are also known facts. But knowledge implies reference to the self or mind. Knowing is an intellectual process, involving psychical laws. It is an activity which the self experi- ences. A certain individual activity has been accord- ingly presupposed in all the universal facts of physical science. These facts are all facts known by some mind, and hence fall, in some way, within the sphere of psychology. This science is accordingly something more than one science by the side of others; it is a central science, for its subject-matter, knowledge, is in- volved in them all. The Universal Factor in Psychology. — It will be seen, therefore, that psychology involves a universal element within it, as well as the individual factor previously mentioned. Its subject-matter, or its content, is in- volved in all the sciences. Furthermore, it is open to all intelligences. This may be illustrated in case of SCIENCE AND METHOD. 5 both knowledge and volition. For example: I know that there exists a table before me. This is a fact of my knowledge, of my consciousness, and hence is indi- vidual. But it is also a possible fact for all intelli- gences whatever. The thing known is just as requisite for knowledge as the knowing; but the thing known is such for all mind whatever. It is, therefore, universal in its nature. While knowledge, therefore, as to its form is individual, as to its content it is universal. Knowledge may be defined as the process by which some universal element — that is, element which is in possible relation to all intelligences — is given individual form, or existence in a consciousness. Knowledge is not an individual possession. Any consciousness which in both form and content is individual, or peculiar to some one individual, is not knowledge. To obtain knowledge, the individual must get rid of the features which are peculiar to him, and conform to the condi- tions of universal intelligence. The realization of this process, however, must occur in an individual. Illustration in Action. — Volition, or action, also has these two sides. The content of every act that I can perform already exists, i. e., is universal. But it has no existence for consciousness, does not come within the range of psychology, until 7, or some self, perform the act, and thus give it an individual existence. It makes no difference whether the act be to write a sen- tence or tell the truth. In one case the pen, the ink, the paper, the hand with its muscles, and the laws of physical action which control writing already exist, and all I can do is to give to these separate universal ex- istences an individual existence by reproducing them in my consciousness through an act of my own. In 6 PSYCHOLOGY. the other case the essence of the truth already exists, and all the self can do is to make it its own. It can give it individual form by reproducing this universal existence in consciousness or self. Further Definition of Psychology. — Our original defi- nition of psychology may now be expanded. Psychol- ogy is the science of the reproduction of some univer- sal content or existence, whether of knowledge or of action, in the form of individual, unsharable con- sciousness. This individual consciousness, considered by itself, without relation to its content, always exists in the form of feeling ; and hence it may be said that the reproduction always occurs in the medium of feel- ing. Our study of the self will, therefore, fall under the three heads of Knowledge, Will, and Feeling. Something more about the nature of each of these and their relations to each other will be given in the next chapter. § 2. Method of Psychology. . Need of Method. — The subject-matter of psychology is the facts of self, or the phenomena of consciousness. These facts, however, do not constitute science until they have been systematically collected and ordered with reference to principles, so that they may be com- prehended in their relations to each other, that is to say, explained. The proper way of getting at, classifying, and explaining the facts introduces us to the consider- ation of the proper method of philosophy. Method of Introspection. — In the first place, it is ev- dent that, since the facts with which psychology has to do are those of consciousness, the study of conscious- ness itself must be the main source of knowledge of SCIENCE AND METHOD. 7 the facts. Just as the facts with which the physical sciences begin are those phenomena which are present to the senses — falling bodies, lightning, rocks, acids, trees, etc. — so psychical science must begin with the facts made known in consciousness. The study of con- scious facts with a view to ascertaining their character is called introspection. This must not be considered a special power of the mind. It is only the general power of knowing which the mind has, directed re- flectively and intentionally upon a certain set of facts. It is also called internal perception ; the observation of the nature and course of ideas as they come and go, corresponding to external perception, or the obser- vation of facts and events before the senses. This method of observation of facts of consciousness must ultimately be the sole source of the material of psy- chology. Defects of Introspection. — Introspection can never become scientific observation, however, for the latter means the direction of attention to certain facts accord- ing to some end or purpose. In observation of physi- cal phenomena the things attended to remain entirely indifferent to and unchanged by the process of obser- vation. In psychical events this is not so. The very act of attending to a psychical state changes its charac- ter, so that we observe, not what we meant to observe, but a comparatively artificial product. Since the mind's supply of energy is limited, it may often occur that the very effort of attention will absorb most of it, and the facts which we wished to observe will vanish, and nothing remain but the tension of the mind. The rule for introspection must be, therefore, to use for the most part only accidental phenomena, such as are 8 PSYCHOLOGY. not expected, but are noticed in an incidental way. It follows, therefore, that memory must be utilized rather than direct conscious perception ; this remove from direct knowledge, however, renders the results subject to all the uncertainties of memory. It follows, also, that the most voluntary and distinct facts of mind will be most open to introspection, and that the more subtle and involuntary phenomena will necessarily either escape it or be transformed. Failure as Explanatory Method. — So far we have dealt with introspection merely as giving us the facts of the science, and have seen that even here it fails. But its most conspicuous failure as method is when it is employed to account for or explain these facts. The facts can be explained only as they are related to each other, or reduced to more fundamental unities. Now, introspection cannot show us these relations or unities. It is necessarily limited to certain changing, extremely transitory phenomena, a succession of perceptions, ideas, desires, emotions, etc. The laws under which these facts come, the more fundamental activities which connect them, cannot be immediately perceived. In- trospection will not even enable us to classify facts of consciousness. To classify them we must go beyond the present observed state and compare it with others which are no longer actually present. We do not gain much if we merely add memory to direct observation, and then compare; for classification requires a princi- ple for its basis, and neither observation nor memory can supply this. Introspection, as a method of classi- fication and explanation, has been noted rather as a source of illusions and deceptions in psychology than as the source of scientific comprehension. Introspec- SCIENCE AND METHOD. 9 tion must, therefore, be carefully distinguished from self-knowledge. Knowledge of self is the whole sphere of intelligence or mind; introspection is the direction of mind in one limited channel, to the ob- servation of particular states. Experimental. — Amid these difficulties we can have recourse, first, to the experimental method. We can- not experiment directly with facts of consciousness, for the condition* of experimentation — arbitrary variation for the sake of reaching some end, or eliminating some factor, or introducing some other to test its effects, together with the possibility of measuring the cause eliminated or introduced and the result occasioned — are not possible. But we can experiment, indirectly, through the connection of the soul with the body. The physical connections of the soul — that is, its relation to sense-organs and to the muscular system — are under our control, and can be experimented with, and thus, indi- rectly, changes may be introduced into consciousness. This is the department of psycho -physics. It differs from physiology in that the latter investigates only the physical processes of life, while psycho-physics makes use of these processes for the sake of investigating psychical states. Object of Experimental Method. — Its object, as stated by Wnndt, is to enable us to get results concerning the origin, composition, and temporal succession of psychi- cal occurrences. Although this method has been em- ployed but a short time, it has already yielded ample results in the spheres, especially, of the composition and relations of sensations, the nature of attention, and the time occupied by various mental processes. It will be noticed, therefore, that what is ordinarily called 1* 10 PSYCHOLOGY. physiological psychology cannot aid psychology direct- ly; the mere knowledge of all the functions of the brain and nerves does not help the science, except so far as it occasions a more penetrating psychological analysis, and thus supplements the deficiencies of in- trospection. Comparative Method. — Even such results, however, are not complete. In the first place, the range of the application of this method is limited to those psychical events which have such connection with physical pro- cesses that they can be changed by changing the latter. And, in the second place, it does not enable us to get be- yond the individual mind. There may be much in any one individual's consciousness which is more or less peculiar and eccentric. Psychology must concern it- self rather with the normal mind — with consciousness in its universal nature. Again, the methods already mentioned give us little knowledge concerning the laws of mental growth or development, the laws by which the mind passes from imperfect stages to more complete. This important branch of the study, called genetic psychology, is, for the most part, untouched either by the introspective or experimental methods. Both of these deficiencies are supplemented by the comparative method. Forms of the Comparative Method. — Mind, as exist- ing in the average human adult, may be compared with the consciousness (1) of animals, (2) of children in vari- ous stages, (3) of defective and disordered minds, (4) of mind as it appears in the various conditions of race, nationality, etc. The study of animal psychology is of use, especially in showing us the nature of the me- chanical and automatic activities of intelligence, which SCIENCE AND METHOD. 11 are, in the human consciousness, apt to be kept out of sight by the more voluntary states. The instinctive side of mind has been studied mostly in animal life. The psychology of infants is of especial importance to us in connection with the origin and genetic connection of psychical activities. The study of minds which are defective through lack of some organ, as sight or hear- ing, serves to show us what elements of psychical life are due to. these organs, while disordered or insane minds we may almost regard as psychical experiments performed by nature. The study of such cases shows the conditions of normal action, and the effects pro- duced if some one of these conditions is altered or if the harmony of various elements is disturbed. The study of consciousness as it appears in various races, tribes, and nations extends that idea of mind to which we would be limited through the introspective study of our own minds, even if supplemented by observation of the manifestations of those about us. Objective Method. — The broadest and most funda- mental method of correcting and extending the results of introspection, and of interpreting these results, so as to refer them to their laws, is the study of the objective manifestations of mind. Mind has not re- mained a passive spectator of the universe, but has pro- duced and is producing certain results. These results are objective, can be studied as all objective historical facts may be, and are permanent. They are the most fixed, certain, and universal signs to us of the way in which mind works. Such objective manifestations of mind are, in the realm of intelligence, phenomena like language and science; in that of will, social and political institutions; in that of feeling, art; in that of the whole 12 PSYCHOLOGY. self, religion. Philology, the logic of science, history, sociology, etc., study these various departments as ob- jective, and endeavor to trace the relations which con- nect their phenomena. But none of these sciences takes into account the fact that science, religion, art, etc., are all of them products of the mind or self, work- ing itself out according to its own laws, and that, there- fore, in studying them we are only studying the funda- mental nature of the conscious self. It is in these wide departments of human knowledge, activity, and creation that we learn most about the self, and it is through their investigation that we find most clearly revealed the laws of its activities. Interpretation in Self -consciousness. — It must be borne in mind, however, that in studying psychological facts by any or all of these methods, the ultimate ap- peal is to self-consciousness. None of these facts mean anything until they are thus interpreted. As objec- tive facts, they are not material of psychology, they are still universal, and must be interpreted into individual terms. What, for example, would language mean to an individual who did not have the power of himself reproducing the language? It would be simply a com- bination of uncouth sounds, and would teach him nothing regarding mind. The scowl of anger or the bent knees of devotion have no significance to one who is not himself capable of anger or of prayer. The psychical phenomena of infancy or of the insane would teach us nothing, because they would be nothing to us, if we did not have the power of putting ourselves into these states in imagination, at least, and thus seeing what they are like. So the phenomena made known in physiological SCIENCE AND METHOD. 13 psychology, would have no value whatever for the science of psychology, if they were not interpretable into facts of consciousness. As physiological facts they are of no avail, for they tell us only about certain objective processes. These various methods, accord- ingly, are not so much a departure from self-conscious- ness, as a method of extending self-consciousness and making it wider and more general. They are methods, in short, of elevating us above what is purely contin- gent and accidental in self-consciousness, and revealing to us what in it is permanent and essential ; what, there- fore, is the subject-matter of psychology. It is with the true and essential self that psychology deals in or- der to ascertain its facts and explain them by showing their connections with each other. One of the most disputed points is the relation of psychology to philoso- phy. Upon this point may be consulted, Encyclopaedia Britannica, 9th edi- tion, articles on "Metaphysics," by Caird; " Philosophy," by Seth ; "Psy- chology," by Ward. See also Mind, Jan., 1883, " Psychology and Philosophy," by Robertson; April, 1883, " Psychological Principles;" Jan. and April, 1886, " The Psychological Standpoint, and Psychology as Philosophic Method," by Dewey. See also psychological reviews in the same periodical, by Adam- son (1884 and 1886). Concerning the method of psychology, something may be found in almost every systematic treatise. See Lewes, "Study of Psychology;" Spencer, " Principles of Psychology," vol. i., pt. i., ch. vii. ; Sully, " Outlines of Psy- chology," ch. i. ; Murray, " Handbook of Psychology," ch. i. ; Hamilton, " Metaphysics," lectures 8 and 9; Porter, "Human Intellect," Introduction i. and iv. ; Volkmann, "Lehrbuch der Psychologie," vol. i., pp. 1-54. Com- pare also the introduction to Waitz, " Lehrbuch der Psychologie." For an excellent account of the various methods, see Wundt, " Logik," vol. ii., pp. 478-502, with which compare " Philosophische Studien," vol. i., p. 1. Upon the special methods, psycho-physical, genetic, etc., see Appendix P>. Accounts of some aspects of the more recent developments of psychology will be found, however, in articles upon "The New Psychology," in the Andover Review for 1884 and 1886, by J. Dewey and G. Stanley Hall. A discussion of the bearings of the theory of evolution upon psychology will be found in Sully, " Sensation and Intuition," ch. i. 14: PSYCHOLOGY. There is no good history of psychology in either English or French. In German the student may consult Harm's "Geschichte der Psychologie," and Siebeck's more extensive work with the same title, as yet (1886) brought down only through mediaeval psychology. Much older, yet of value in some portions, is Carus's "Geschichte der Psychologie." Volkmann (op. cit.~) con- tains such complete historical accounts under each topic as to make it ex- tremely valuable. Ribot has published accounts of contemporary English and German psychology, neither of which, however, is so thorough or accu- rate that it may be consulted instead of the original authorities. CHAPTER II. THE MIND AND ITS MODES OF ACTIVITY. Introduction. — Psychology has to do with the facts of consciousness, and aims at a systematic investigation, classification, and explanation of these facts. We have to begin with a preliminary division of consciousness into cognitive, emotional, and volitional, although the justification of the definition, like that of psychology, cannot be seen until we have considered tho whole subject. By consciousness as cognitive, w r e mean as giving knowledge or information, as appreciating or apprehending, whether it be appreciation of internal facts or of external things and events. By conscious- ness as emotional, we mean as existing in certain sub- jective states, characterized by either pleasurable or painful tone. Emotional consciousness does uot,per se, give us information, but is a state of feeling. It is the affection of the mind. By consciousness as voli- tional, we mean as exerting itself for the attainment of some end. Cognitive Consciousness. — Every activity or idea of the mind may be regarded as telling us about some- thing. The mind is not what it was before this idea existed, but has added information about something to its store. The consciousness may be the perception of a tree, the conception of government, the idea of the law of gravitation, the news of the death of a friend, the idea of a house which one is planning to build ; it may, 16 PSYCHOLOGY. iii short, have reference to some object actually exist- ing, to some relation or law ; it may be concerned with one's deepest feelings, or with one's activities; but in any case, so far as it tells about something that is, or has happened, or is planned, it is knowledge — in short, it is the state of being aware of something, and so far as any state of consciousness makes us aware of some- thing it constitutes knowledge. Feeling. — But the state of consciousness is not con- fined to giving us information about something. It may also express the value which this information has for the self. Every consciousness has reference, not only to the thing or event made known by it, but also to the mind knowing, and is, therefore, a state of feel- ing, an affection of self. And since every state of con- sciousness is a state of self, it has an emotional side. Our consciousness, in other words, is not indifferent or colorless, but it is regarded as having importance, having value, having interest. It is this peculiar fact of interest which constitutes the emotional side of consciousness, and it signifies that the idea which has this interest has some unique connection with the self, so that it is not only a fact, an item of knowledge, but also a way in which the self is affected. The fact of interest, or connection with the self, may express itself either as pleasurable or painful. No state of conscious- ness can be wholly indifferent or have no value what- ever for the self; though the perception of a tree, the hearing of a death of a friend, or the plan of building a house will have very different values. Will. — A state of consciousness is also an expression of activity. As we shall see hereafter, there is no con- sciousness which does not depend upon the associating, THE MIND AND ITS MODES OF ACTIVITY. 17 and especially the attentive, activities of mind; and looked at in this way, every consciousness is an act of will, whether it be in the perception of a tree, the hear- ing of the death of a friend, or the plan to build a house, the mind is engaged in action. It is never wholly passive in any consciousness. Yet it is evident that in the perception of the tree that factor of the consciousness is especially regarded which gives us in- formation about something; in the death of a friend it is not with the fact of news nor with the mind's ac- tivity that we are concerned, but with the way in which the mind, the self, is affected ; while in the plan and execution of the plan of building a house it is especial- ly with the activity of the mind as devoted to realizing or bringing about a certain intention, purpose, or end that we have to do. The first would, ordinarily, be called an act of knowledge, the second, a mode of emo- tion, and to the third would be restricted the term voli- tion or will. Any state of consciousness is really knowl- edge, since it makes us aware of something; feeling, since it has a certain peculiar reference to ourselves, and will, since it is dependent upon some activity of ours ; but concretely each is named from the one aspect which predominates. Relations to Each Other. — Feeling, knowledge, and will are not to be regarded as three hinds of conscious- ness ; nor are they three separable parts of the same consciousness. They are the three aspects which every consciousness presents, according to the light in which it is considered ; whether as giving information, as af- fecting the self in a painful or pleasurable way, or as manifesting an activity of self. But there is still another connection. Just as in the organic body the process of 18 PSYCHOLOGY. digestion cannot go on without that of circulation, and both require respiration and nerve action, which in turn are dependent upon the other processes, so in the or- ganic mind. Knowledge is not possible without feeling and will ; and neither of these without the other two. Dependence of Knowledge. — Take, for example, the perception of a tree or the learning of a proposition in geometry. It may seem at first as if the perception of a tree were a purely spontaneous act, which we had only to open our eyes to perform, but we shall see that it is something which has been learned. Indeed, we have only to notice an infant to discover that the per- ception of an object is a psychical act which has to be learned as much as the truth of geometry. What, then, is necessary for the apprehension of either item ? First, feeling is necessary, for unless the mind were affected in some way by the object or the truth, unless it had some interest in them, it would never direct itself to them, would not pay attention to them, and they would not come within its sphere of knowledge at all. They might exist, but they would have no existence for the mind, unless there were something in them which excited the mind. Knowledge depends on feel- ing. But, again, the feeling results in knowledge only because it calls forth the attention of the mind, and di- rects the mind to the thing or truth to be known ; and this direction of the attention is an act of will. In the case of first learning the proposition of geometry, it is easy to see that the directing, controlling, concentrat- ing activity of will is constantly required, and the ap- prehension of the tree differs only in that there atten- tion is automatically and spontaneously called forth, according to principles to be studied hereafter. THE MIND AND ITS MODES OF ACTIVITY. 19 Dependence of Volition. — An act of will involves knowledge. It may be a comparatively simple act, like writing, or a complex one, like directing some great business operation. In either case there is required a definite idea of the end to be reached, and of the vari- ous means which are requisite for reaching it ; knowl- edge of the result aimed at and of the processes in- volved in bringing it about are necessary for the exe- cution of any volition. But there is also a dependence upon feeling. Only that will be made an object of vo- lition which is desired, and only that will be desired which stands in some relation to self. The purely un- interesting or colorless object, that which has not emo- tional connections, is never made an end of action. It is a mere truism to say that one never acts except for that which he believes to be of some importance, how- ever slight, and this element of importance, of value, is always constituted by reference to self, by feeling. Dependence of Feeling. — Feeling, on the other hand, presupposes volition. Where there is no excitation, no stimulation, no action, there is no feeling. When we study feeling in detail we shall find that pleasura- ble feeling is always an accompaniment of healthy or of customary action, and unpleasant feeling the reverse. It is enough to notice now that feeling is the reference of any content of consciousness to self, and that the self is only as it acts or reacts. Without action or re- 1 action there is, therefore, no feeling. If we inquire into the pleasure which arises from the acquisition of money, or the pain which comes from the loss of a friend, we shall find that one furthers and assists cer- tain modes of activity which are in some way identified with the self, while the other hinders them, or wholly 20 PSYCHOLOGY. destroys them. One, in short, develops the self ; the other reduces it. The activity of the self, either in raising or lowering the level of its activity, expresses itself in feeling. All concrete, definite forms of feeling depend also upon the intellectital activities. We find our feelings clustering about objects and events; we find them as- sociated with the forms of knowledge, and just in the degree in which they are thus associated do they cease to be vague and undefinable. Even in the lowest forms of emotional consciousness, as the pleasure of eating, or the pain of a bruise, we find some reference to an object. The feeling is not left floating, as it were, but is connected with some object as its cause, or is lo- calized in some part of the organism. The higher and more developed the feeling, the more complete and definite is the connection with the intellectual sphere. The emotions connected with art, with morals, with scientific investigation, with religion, are incomprehen- sible without constant reference to the objects with which they are concerned. Necessary Connection with Each Other. — We have now seen that will, knowledge, and feeling are not three kinds of consciousness, but three aspects of the same consciousness. We have also seen that each of these aspects is the result of an artificial analysis, since, in any concrete case, each presupposes the other, and cannot exist without it. The necessity of this mutual connection may be realized by reverting to our defini- tion of psychology, where it was said that psychology is the science of the reproduction of some universal content in the form of individual consciousness. Every consciousness, in other words, is the relation of a uni- TIIE MIND AND ITS MODES OF ACTIVITY. 21 versal and an individual element, and cannot be under- stood without either. It will now be evident that the universal element is knowledge, the individual is feel- ing, while the relation which connects them into one concrete content is will. It will also be seen that knowledge and feeling are partial aspects of the self, and hence more or less abstract, while will is complete, comprehending both aspects. We will take up each of these points briefly. Knowledge as Universal. — "We have already seen that the subject-matter of knowledge is universal ; that is to say, it is common to all intelligences. What one knows every one else may know. In knowledge alone there is no ground for distinction between persons. Were individuals knowing individuals only, no one would recognize his unique distinctness as an individual. All know the same, and hence, merely as knowing, are the same. But feeling makes an inseparable barrier between one and other. Two individuals might conceivably have feelings produced by the same cause, and of just the same qual- ity and intensity, in short, exactly like each other, and yet they would not be the same feeling. They would be absolutely different feelings, for one would be re- ferred to one self, another to another. It is for this reason, also, that as matter of fact we connect knowl- edge with ourselves as individuals. In any actual case knowledge has some emotional coloring, and hence is conceived as being one's own knowledge. Just in the degree in which this emotional coloring is absent, as in the perception of a tree or recognition of a truth of mathematics, the consciousness is separated from one's individual self, and projected into a universe common 22 - PSYCHOLOGY. to all. Individuality of consciousness means feeling; universality of consciousness means knowledge. Will as the Complete Activity. — The concrete con- sciousness, on the other hand, including both the indi- vidual and the universal elements, is will. Will always manifests itself either by going out to some universal element and bringing it into relation to self, into indi- vidual form, or by taking some content which is indi- vidual and giving it existence recognizable by all in- telligences. The knowledge of a tree or recognition of the truth of geometry illustrate the first form. Here material which exists as common material for all con- sciousness is brought into relation with the unique, un- sharable consciousness of one. The activity of will starts from the interests of the self, goes out in the form of attention to the object, and translates it into the medium of my or your consciousness — into terms of self, or feeling. If we consider this activity in the value which it has as manifesting to us something of the nature of the universe, it is knowledge ; if we con- sider it in the value which it has in the development of the self, it is feeling; if we consider it as an activity, including both the universal element which is its con- tent, and the individual from which it starts and to which it returns, it is will. This we may call in- coming will, for its principal phase is that in which it takes some portion of the universe and brings it into individual consciousness, or into the realm of feeling. Out- going Will. — The other form of will is that which starts from some individual consciousness and gives it existence in the universe. The first stage is a desire, a plan, or a purpose ; and these exist only in my or your consciousness, they are feelings. But the ac- THE MIND AND ITS MODES OF ACTIVITY. 23 tivity of self takes hold of these, and projects them into external existence, and makes them a part of the world of objects and events. If the desire be to eat, that is something which belongs wholly to the individual ; the act of eating is present to all intelligences; it is one of the events that happen in the world. If the purpose be to obtain riches, that, again, is a purely individual consciousness; but the activities which procure these riches are universal in nature, for they are as present to the intelligence of one as another. If the plan be to build a house, the plan formed is individual ; the plan executed, the house built, is universal. This act of will resulting in rendering an individual content universal may be called out-going will, but its essence is the same as that of in-coming will. It connects the two elements which, taken in their separateness, we call feeling and knowledge. The Subjective and Objective. — Feeling is the sub- jective side of consciousness, knowledge its objective side. Will is the relation between the subjective and the objective. Every concrete consciousness is this connection between the individual as subjective, and the universe as objective. Suppose the consciousness to be that arising from a cut of a finger. The pain is purely subjective ; it belongs to the self pained and can be shared by no other. The cut is an objective fact ; something which may be present to the senses of all, and apprehended b}' their intelligences. It is one object amid the world of objects. Or, let the con- sciousness be that of the death of a friend. This has one side which connects it uniquely with the indi- vidual ; it has a certain value for him as a person, with- out any reference to its bearings as an event which has 24 PSYCHOLOGY. happened objectively. It is subjective feeling. But it also is an event which has happened in the sphere of objects ; something present in the same way to all. It is objective ; material of information. Will always serves to connect the subjective and the objective sides, just as it connects the individual and the universal. The student must, at the outset, learn to avoid re- garding consciousness as something purely subjective or individual, which in some way deals with and re- ports a world of objects outside of consciousness. Speak- ing from the standpoint of psychology, consciousness is always both subjective and objective, both individual and universal. We may artificially analyze, and call one side feeling and the other knowledge, but this is an analysis of consciousness ; it is not a separation of consciousness from something which is not in conscious- ness. For psychology no such separation can possibly exist. Method of Treatment. — In treating the material of psychology it is necessary, for purposes of presenta- tion, to regard the separation of feeling from knowl- edge, and both from will, as more complete and rigid than it can be as matter of actual fact. , Each will be considered separately, as if it were an independent, self-sufficient department of the mind. It might seem most logical to begin this treatment with feeling, as that is the most intimate, internal side of consciousness, but the dependence of the definite forms of feeling upon the definite forms of knowledge is so close that this is practically impossible. The dependence of knowledge upon feeling is, however, a general, not a specific one; so the subject of knowledge can be treated with only a general reference to feeling. Will, as pre- THE MIND AND ITS MODES OF ACTIVITY. 25 supposing both knowledge and feeling, will be treated last. Material and Processes. — In treating each of these heads we shall also, for purposes of clear presentation, subdivide the subject into three heads : (1) material, (2) processes, (3) results. That is to say, the object of the science of psychology is to take the concrete mani- festations of mind, to analyze them and to explain them by connecting them with each other. We shall regard the existing states as the result of the action of cer- tain processes upon a certain raw material. We shall consider, first, the raw material ; second, the processes by which this raw material is worked up or elaborated ; and third, the concrete forms of consciousness, the act- ual ideas, emotions, and volitions which result from this elaboration. The first two accordingly correspond to nothing which has separate independent existence, but are the result of scientific analysis. The actual exist- ence is, in all cases, the third element only, that of re- sult. Beginning, therefore, with knowledge, we shall define sensation as its raw material, consider the pro- cess of apperceptio7i, which elaborates this material into the concrete forms of perception, memory, imagina- tion, thinking, and intuition, finally recognizing that the concrete intellectual act is always one of intuition. Upon the questions of the relations of the various psychical factors to each other, and of the so-called faculties of the soul (questions which can hardly be separated), the following authorities may be consulted : Hamilton (pp. cit.), lects. x. and xi. ; Porter (op. cit.), introd. iii. ; Bain, "Senses and Intel- lect," ch. i., pp. 321-327; Spencer {op. cit.), pt. 2, chs. ii. and ix. ; Sully, "Psychology," ch. ii ; Lewes, "Problems of Life and Mind," First Series, p. 146 ; Third Series, p. 240 ; Striimpell, " Grundriss der Psychologie," pp. 1- 14,95-100; George, "Lehrbuch der Psychologie," pp. 70-124; Ulrici, "Der Leib und die Seele," vol. i., pt. 2, p. 1G1; Honvicz, " Psychologische Analy- sen," vol. L, pp. 155 - 175 ; Volkmann ( op. cit. ), vol. i., pp. 54 - 216 ; Ward, 2 26 PSYCHOLOGY. Encyclopaedia Britannica, article "Psychology." More directly upon the faculties of the soul, see Wundt, M Grundziige der physiologischen Psycholo- gic," vol. i., pp. 9-18 ; Herbart, " Lchrbuch der Psychologie," pt. ii., ch. i. ; Lotze, " Medicinische Psj^chologie," § 136 (this work of Lotze's is very rare, but a translation of the first part of it may be had in French, under the title, " Principes Generaux de Psychologie Physiologique "), and "Microscosmus" (Eng. transl. ), vol. i., pp. 1G8-181; Drobisch, "Empirische Psychologie," pp. 268-337 ; Steinthal, " Einleitung in die Psychologie und Sprachswissen- schaft," pp. 290-306 ; Volkmann {op. ciQ, vol. i., pp. 22-34. Upon the educational bearings of these topics, see Heine, " Die padago- gische Seelenlehre," and Joly, "Notions de Pedagogie," pp. 32-61. PART I.— KNOWLEDGE. CHAPTER III. ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. § 1. Sensation in General. Definition. — The elements of intelligence which, through their combinations, constitute knowledge are termed sensations. Sentience is the term used to ex- press the capability of the mind for sensations, while the specific organs which realize this capacity are called sensory, or simply the senses. A sensation may be generically defined as any consciousness arising in the self through some bodily occasion. More specifi- cally, it is the elementary consciousness which arises from the reaction of the soul upon a nervous impulse conducted to the brain from the affection of some sen- sory nerve-ending by a physical stimulus. Treatment of Subject. — A sensation is thus seen to involve two elements — a physical and a psychical. It is concerned, on the one hand, with the body ; on the other w T ith the soul. The physical factor may be con- sidered with reference either to the stimulus which affects the nerve organ, or with relation to the nerve activity itself. We shall consider, accordingly, the fol- lowing topics under the head of sensation : I. The phys- ical stimulus in its broad sense, including subdivisions into the extra-organic stimulus and the physiological. 28 PSYCHOLOGY. II. The psychical element, or sensation proper. III. The relation between the physical and the psychical factors. IY. The function of sensation in intellectual life. I. The Physical Stimulus. 1. Extra-organic /Stimulus. — While a few of our sensations arise from operations going on within our own body, the larger number, and those most important in their cognitive aspect, originate in affections of the organism by something external to it. Things just about us affect the organs of touch ; bodies still more remote impinge upon us through the sense of hearing, while in vision almost no limit is put to the distance from which bodies may affect us through light. But numerous as seem the various ways in which external bodies may affect us, it is found that these various modes are reducible to one — motion. Whether a body is near or far, the only way in which it affects the organ- ism so as to occasion sensation is through motion. The motion may be of the whole mass, as when something hits us; it may be in the inner particles of the thing, as when we taste or smell it ; it may be a movement originated by the body and propagated to us through vibrations of a medium, as when we hear or see. But some form of motion there must be. An absolutely motionless body would not give rise to any affection of the body such as ultimately results in sensation. Characteristics of Motion. — Accordingly it is not the mere thing, but the thing with the characteristic of motion, that is the extra-organic stimulus of sensation. For psychological purposes, the world may be here re- garded, not as a world of things with an indefinite number of qualities, but as a world of motions alone. ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 29 The world of motion, however, possesses within itself various differences, to which the general properties of sensations correspond. Movements are not all of the same intensity, form, or rapidity. Put positively, mo- tion possesses amplitude, form, and velocity. Ampli- tude is the extent to and fro, up and down, of the movement. It is the length of its swing, or the dis- tance which the body moves from a point of rest. The body may move through this distance in the thousandth of a second, or in a second. This rate at which a body moves constitutes its velocity. Again, the motion may be regular or vibratory, or irregular. Amid the regu- lar movements there may be further differences of form. It may be circular, elliptic, or parabolic. It may be a movement like that of a pendulum, a piston, or a trip-hammer. Characteristics of Sensations. — The differences which exist in sensations correspond to these differences in stimuli. To the amplitude of the motion agrees, in a general way, the intensity of the sensation. The wider the swing of the body the greater the force with which it will impinge upon the sense organ, and the stronger the resulting sensation. To differences of form cor- respond differences in quality. Stimuli which are irregular seem to occasion the vaguer, confused sensa- tions, like those of taste and smell; the higher, of hearing and sight, being produced by regular vibra- tions. Within the sphere of sounds, the differences between noises and musical tones seem to correspond to this distinction of stimuli. Finally, vibrations of a low rate of velocity (below twenty per second) affect us through the sense of contact as a feeling of jar; from twenty to about forty thousand per second we 30 PSYCHOLOGY. have affections of sound ; to the various rates of which correspond those specific differences of sensation known as pitch. Above this rate the vibrations are too nu- merous to be responded to by the auditory apparatus, and we have a sharp feeling of whirring. When the vibrations reach the enormous number of four hundred and fifty-one billions per second we begin to have color sensations, at this rate, of red ; and these continue up to seven hundred and eighty-five billions, when violet appears. Between these velocities lies the scale of colors. Above their highest rate the eye does not dis- tinguish light, and we have the motions which produce the so-called actinic effects. Glasses of Extra-organic Stimuli. — These may be divided into general and special. Certain forms of motion, as mechanical pressure, heat, and electricity, affect all sensory organs alike. Any one of them, if applied to the ear, occasions sound ; to the eye, light, etc. The motions which are termed special are pecul- iarly adapted to some one sense organ, which alone is fitted to respond to them. Waves of ether awaken no consciousness within us except as they impinge upon the retina of the eye. Waves of air find an especially responsive medium in the ear, while certain chemical actions, not understood, have special reference to the nerves of smell and taste. II. The Physiological Stimulus. No sensation exists as yet. The external stimulus is but the first prerequisite. It is a condition which in many cases may be omitted, as when the stimulus arises within the body itself. Its function is exhausted when the nerve is aroused to activity. It must be transformed ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 31 into a physiological motion before any sensation arises. The mode of transformation has given rise to a division of the senses into mechanical and chemical. In some cases the physiological stimulus appears as a continuation of the external. Thus the extra-organic stimuli occasion- ing pressure undergo no decided alteration upon affect- ing the organs of touch ; it is highly probable that the auditory nerve continues the sound stimulus in vibratory form. But in taste and smell there is evidently a chemi- cal transformation. The sapid or odorous substance sets np some chemical process in the nerve endings, and the sti mul ns reaches the brain in a different form from that originally affecting the sensory organ. In vision both mechanical and chemical activities seem to be combined. Stages of the Physiological Stimulus. — Here three stages may be distinguished ; first, the excitation of the peripheral organ ; second, the conduction of the excite- ment thus produced along the nerve fibre to the brain ; and, third, the reception of and reaction upon the trans- mitted stimulus by the brain. There is change in the organ, change in the nerve, change in the brain. Subject to a qualification hereafter to be made, the integrity of each of these elements is necessary for a sensation. Specific Nerve Energy. — Regarding the method of the reaction of the nerve organs upon the extra-organic stimulus which tranforms it into a physiological one, it may be said that each nerve organ responds to all stimuli, of whatever kind, in the same way. The mind, for example, always answers sound to all calls made upon the ear, whether these calls be made by way of pressure, electricity, or the more ordinary one of vibra- tions of air. In the same way the mind always reacts with a sensation of light to every excitation of the eye, 32 PSYCHOLOGY. whether made by etheric vibration or mechanical press- ure and irritation. This is the fact known as specific nerve energy; whether it is due to the original struc- ture of the nervous organism, or is the result of adapta- tion through constant use in one way, is disputed. Of the fact itself there is no doubt. Vicarious Brain Action. — It was mentioned that the statement regarding the necessity of integrity of brain, nerve, and sense organ for the production of a sensation would require qualification. It is found that when the connection between the sense organ and the brain has once been thoroughly formed the latter tends to have its structure altered in such a way that, in abnormal and unusual cases, nervous changes going on within it may take the place of that usually occurring in the organ and nerves. People who have become blind in adult life do not lose their power of imagining visual forms and color. Their appreciation of these is as real, though internal, as that of the person who has his eye affected by the physical stimulus of light. Persons who have lost an arm or a leg still seem to feel in the amputated part. They continue to refer sensations to the absent member. In certain abnormal states, as in fevers, etc., sensations arise within the brain itself of such force and vividness as to occasion utterly erroneous ideas about the external world. When no affection of the nerve organ exists sounds are heard, lights appear, wonderful and strange scenes, to which nothing objective corresponds, pass before the vision. It is hardly possible to account for the phenomena of dreams, except upon the theory that every excitation of the brain is not due to an immediately antecedent excitation of a sense organ, but may spontaneously be ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 33 called forth in the brain itself. These various facts lead to the supposition that the activity in the brain may be self-induced, under certain circumstances, hav- ing the same psychical result as would the more reg- ular excitation through peripheral organs and sensory nerves, and that, consequently, the ultimate element with which the mind has to deal is the change in the brain alone. III. The Psychical Factor. Sensation or Consciousness. — We have as yet no sensation. A sensation is psychical; it is a conscious- ness; it not only exists, but it exists for the self. The changes in the nervous system, including the brain, are purely physical; they are objective only, and have no conscious existence for themselves. They exist in consciousness only as brought into the mind of some spectator. The relations between the two processes, the objective stimulus of motion and the subjective response of consciousness, we shall study hereafter. At present we are concerned with finding out what are the essential traits of a sensation considered as an ele- ment in consciousness. 1. It is an Elementary Consciousness. — One object of every science is to analyze or decompose complex phenomena into their simpler constituent elements. Thus the chemist attempts to account for the phenom- ena of the reaction of bodies upon each other by the sup- position that there are certain primordial, unanalyzable atoms from whose composition and ways of acting the more complex facts result. So the physicist finds him- self compelled, for the sake of simplicity of explanation, to suppose the existence of a physically unanalyzable 2* 34 PSYCHOLOGY. unit, the molecule. The psychologist finds himself, in a similar way, confronted with facts which are indefi- nitely more complex than those of chemistry or phys- ics. He finds himself forced, accordingly, to the sup- position of a psychical unit beyond further analysis, and forming the basis and material out of which the con- crete forms of knowledge are built up by means of certain processes and laws to be hereafter studied. Nature of Sensation. — This elementary unit he calls a sensation. The sensation is not a fact immediately present in consciousness. We do not have direct knowl- edge of it any more than we do of the atom or mole- cule. Actual mental life is concrete, not made up of isolated atomic sensations. It is thoroughly complex, and no simple element can be immediately laid hold of. In fact, knowledge always consists in relation — in the connection of elements, and their mutual reference to each other — and so no isolated, unrelated sensation, such as we suppose forms the material of knowledge, could possibly be immediately known. Sensations are known, then, only as the result of a process of abstrac- tion and analysis, and their existence is supposed only because, without them, it would be impossible to ac- count for the complex phenomena which are directly present in consciousness. 2. It is a Subjective Consciousness. — This term, sub- jective, does not mean simply that sensation is a psychi- cal, not a physical, state ; that it exists for the self, and is not a bare existing fact. This is true of all the phe- nomena of consciousness. It is here used to distinguish sensations from those facts of psychical life which have an objective reference. Such facts tell us about things and events that exist independently of ourselves, about ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 35 something which is really there, as we say. They en- able us to appreciate or apprehend something objec- tive. Thus I know that this paper is white, the ink is black, etc. I do not mean that there is a feeling in my mind of white paper or of black ink, but that the real paper is really white, etc. Such states of mind evidently go beyond themselves, and tell us of some- thing objective. It is not so with sensations. They have no reference to things really there. They tell of nothing beyond their own existence. They do not tell us what some thing is ; they only report how the subject is affected. Sensations not Actual Knowledge. — Hence sensa- tions are not, of themselves, knowledge. They .are the necessary conditions or raw material of knowledge. Knowledge always refers to existence, and to get this reference to existence the sensation must be elaborated and transformed and made to point to something be- yond itself. The means by which the objective refer- ence is got will be studied under the head of the proc- esses of knowledge. It is sufficient to notice now that sensations become knowledge only as they are related to each other in certain definite ways. To know is not merely to have a sensation, but to refer this sensation either to an external object, as the thing having a quality corresponding to the sensation, or to ourselves. This analysis of complex forms of knowledge into sim- ple units, which are not by themselves knowledge, but only the raw material of knowledge, however hard to make at first, is one necessary for any comprehension of the facts of cognition. 3. The Elementary Subjective Conditions of Knowl- edge Possess certain Original Properties. — These may 36 PSYCHOLOGY. be reduced to three : duration, quality, and intensity. All psychical states occupy a certain time, have a cer- tain characteristic content all their own, and fill con- sciousness with a certain force. These properties can- not, strictly speaking, be described or defined any more than what color is can be told to a blind man. But each one knows for himself that a sound, for example, occupies a certain length of time in his consciousness; that it is something peculiar to itself, not to be con- founded or compared with a color or a taste; and that it is either weak as a whisper or strong as the sound of a cannon. It is to the characteristic difference between a taste and a smell that the term quality or modality applies, while intensity signifies the difference between, say, a dim and a bright light. 4. Sensations may he Classified. — Each quality or modality forms a class by itself. As already pointed out (page 29), the soul answers to the stimulus origi- nating in all nerve organs with a characteristic re- sponse, and hence there will be as many classes of sen- sations as there are kinds of organs. As almost every nerve structure in the body may, under appropriate conditions, occasion sensations, it would follow that we may have an indefinitely large number of classes of sensation. But, fortunately, certain general features are found which broadly mark off these organs from each other. Some of these organs are found to be spe- cifically formed for giving rise to sensations — as the eye for light, the ear for sound; while nerves con- nected with other organs — as the stomach, the lungs — have as their main business the regulation of some bodily function — as digestion, respiration — and only secondarily and incidentally occasion conscious states. ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 37 This leads to the broad division of sensations into spe- cific, and organic or general. IV. The Relation of the Physical Factor to the Psychical. We are introduced at the outset to one of the most difficult problems of psychology. The general ques- tion is, What is the relation between the external world, including the organized body, and the mind or self? In this particular case the question takes the form, What is the connection between sensations or psychi- cal states and the physical and neural changes which excite them? Various Theories. — We shall first consider two op- posed and extreme theories, and then pass to what we conceive to be the true view of the matter. Of these two theories, one, which we may call the materialistic theor} r , regards sensations as facts of the same kind and order as the physical motions which occasion them, and reduces consciousness to one of the forms in which material motion appears. The other, or dualistio the- ory, denies any connection whatever between mind and matter, between the sensation and the neural change which appears to originate it. One theory, in short, absorbs mind in matter, while the other holds that there is a chasm between them over which, no bridge can be built. Materialism identifies the sensa- tion with its mechanical occasion. Dualism holds to two opposed and unconnected sets of phenomena; one physical, the other psychical. 1. Dualism. — This will be dealt with briefly, both because the most extreme upholders of the general in- dependence of mind and matter rarely go so far as to 38 PSYCHOLOGY. deny the relative dependence of sensation on nervous change, and because the fact of the dependence is so evident upon examination. So far as we know, posi- tively, no .sensation occurs without some accompanying change of nervous tissue. Negatively, the loss of an organ, conducting nerve, or brain centre is found to be accompanied by corresponding loss of sensation. Fur- thermore, whatever increases or diminishes the nervous activity is found to increase or diminish the intensity of the corresponding sensation. "We thus have about all the evidence we could desire as to some connec- tion between the conscious sensation and the nervous change. 2. Materialism. — This holds that all the facts of the universe, mind included, are to be reduced to changes of matter and motion. It holds that the law of the conservation and correlation of energy is the highest law of all phenomena, and that this is as true of psy- chical phenomena, and of their relation to physical, as it is of the facts of heat or of electricity. It holds, that is to say, that all phenomena are reducible to forms of motion which are convertible into each other without loss or increase of energy or power of doing work. Thus, we know that light is changeable into heat, heat into chemical energy, this into electricity, while electricity completes the circuit back into light. Materialism holds that this generalization must be applied to the production of sensations. It says that we must believe that when a wave of light reaches the retina the energy involved in it is converted into an equal amount of energy known as nervous action, which is conveyed along the nerves to the brain, where it sets up another equal amount of energy, which results in ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 39 the state we know as a sensation. It holds that along this line of changes there is no breach of continuity. Each process is the mechanical result of its antecedents. Sensations, as psychical states, are thus included among the material energies of the physical world, and are governed by the mechanical laws of this world. They are only one special class of the forms which energy, as convertible from one mode into another, takes. Objections. — To this view there are certain very se- rious objections, (1) one of which may be urged from the physical side itself, while the other (2) is psycho- logical in its nature. (1.) Physical. — There is an unlikeness of hind which makes it impossible to apply the law of the transforma- tion of energy to the relation existing between sensa- tions and their stimuli. The law of the conservation of energy has been established regarding the phenom- ena of motion alone, and has meaning only with refer- ence to motions. Sensations are not motions. The sensation of red may have a dependence upon a certain number of etheric vibrations, but as a sensation it is a unique psychical state, having no motion, no vibrations, no spatial length nor form. The motion is objective, existing in space, possessing relations of form, size, and number. The sensation is subjective, existing only in the mind, having no spatial nor numerical relations. The motion "is an external fact which must be presented to the senses to be known. The sensation is internal, and is directly known to consciousness. Now these differences between the psychical and the physical con- stitute, it is said, a chasm which the law of the corre- lation of energy cannot bridge. The law holds only of motions; to apply it to sensations is to commit the 40 PSYCHOLOGY. absurdity of supposing that a sound or color is a move- ment occurring in space. Materialism Does not Explain. — Or the objection may be stated as follows : The only object of applying the law is to explain psychical phenomena. To ex- plain consists, as logic tells us, in pointing out a relation of cause and effect existing between two phenomena. This relation can be found only where there is com- plete identity between the fact antecedent regarded as cause, and the consequent considered to be the effect. Where this identity is not found no causal relation exists. Now the attempt to make the mechanical and material phenomena of the world account for the psychical, through the law of the conservation of en- ergy, fails, when looked at in this way, doubly : (i.) it fails to explain sensation as a general fact; (ii.) it fails to explain any of the concrete details of sensation. (i.) There is no identity between the sensation as a state of consciousness and the mechanical motion which precedes it. The striking fact of the case is their dif- ference: one exists as an objective spatial fact of move- ment, the other as the unique psychical fact of con- sciousness. No quantitative transformation can be made out, for the simple reason that the consciousness is not a quantity. So Mr. Huxley says: "How it is that anything so remarkable as a state of conscious- ness comes about by the result of irritating nervous tissue, is just as unaccountable as the appearance of the Djin when Aladdin rubbed his lamp." Mr. Tyndall remarks to the same effect that " the passage from the physics of the brain to the corresponding facts of con- sciousness is unthinkable." The German physiologist, Du Bois Keymond, says that "if we possessed an ab- ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 41 solutelj perfect knowledge of the body, including the brain and all changes in it, the psychical state known as sensation would be as incomprehensible as now. For the very highest knowledge we could get would reveal to us only matter in motion, and the connection be- tween any motions of any atoms in my brain, and such unique, undeniable facts as that I feel pain, smell a rose, see red, is thoroughly incomprehensible." It is evident that if the connection be, as affirmed, unaccountable, unthinkable, incomprehensible, it is impossible to ac- count for or comprehend the sensation by it. (ii.) Materialism Fails to Throw any Light upon the Specific Facts of Sensation. — Were it supposed that we even knew all about the forms of motion which affect us, and knew the exact difference between one form and another, it would still remain incomprehensible why one mode of motion should give rise to that psychical fact which we know as color, and another to sound. So the knowledge of the difference of rates of rapidity in the musical scale does not enable us to explain why one rate should result in a low note and another, more rapid rate, in a higher. These are facts of consciousness only, and are as ultimate and unanalyzable in their differences from each other as they were when nothing whatever was known about the rates of motion. No identity between the conscious facts and the various forms of physical motion can be discovered which will enable us to explain one by the other. (2.) Psychological Objection. — This objection cannot be fully presented here, as it presupposes a knowledge of the results of psychological study not yet attained. In briefjit is this: the material motions which are sup- 42 PSYCHOLOGY. posed to be the cause of psychical phenomena are never known in any independent existence. They are known to exist only through their relation to mind. Psychologically speaking, the fact of motion is a fact of knowledge which must be accounted for through a study of the elements and processes of the mind. It is not a fact which precedes knowledge and can be used to account for it, but it is a fact in knowledge which must be accounted for like all other facts of knowledge, by means of psychological laws. Motion cannot be used psychologically to account for mental phenomena, because it is itself a mental phenomenon, and, as such, depends upon psychological elements and processes. Materialism inverts the true order of facts by attempting to produce the subject from the object, knowledge from things, while the business of psychol- ogy is to deal with things as known things, and to show how the subject, as knowing, is involved in all those facts which the physical sciences treated merely as ex- isting facts, overlooking that they are in reality facts known to exist, as facts in relation to mind. Motion apart from mind is an abstraction and cannot be used to account for mind. Wc come now to what seems to be the correct theory in the matter. 3. Nervous Changes Act as Stimuli to the Soul. — It is evident from what was said under the first head that there is some positive connection between the material process and the psychical. It is evident from what has just been said that this connection is not of such a nature that the conscious sensation can be regarded as transformed molecular motion. Nothing is gained, however, by adopting a too customary evasion, and re- garding the sensation as an impression made upon the ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 43 soul by an external object, and consequently as a mere passive reception or copy of it. The sensation is a copy of neither the external nor the internal object and process. In the case of vision, for example, the external excitation is not color, and certainly the intra-organic one is not; the extra-organic process is simply certain undulations of ether which impinge upon the retina. The intra-organic process is the ex- citation and transference of molecular motion in and along the nerves and brain. "What finally affects the mind, however it affects it, is only this brain molecular motion, and certainly color is not a mere passive re- ception of that. Nervous Change not Cause out Stimulus. — ■ This molecular motion, accordinglj r , is conceived of as simply the stimulus or excitation necessary to call the soul into activity. The soul, when thus incited to action, re- sponds to the stimulation with a characteristic produc- tion of its own, whose appearance, relatively to the physical phenomena, is a virtual creation ; that is, can- not be in any way got out of them. The nervous change is not, properly speaking, the cause of the sen- sation, nor is the sensation the passive result of an im- pression. A sensation is not the simple affection of the soul by some bodily change, although the affection is a necessary prerequisite to sensation. The sensation is the state developed out of and by the soul itself upon occasion of this affection. Distinction hetween Physical and Psychical Ac- tivity. — This constitutes the great difference between physical and psychical action. Physical energy is always external ; it never acts upon itself, but is transferred be- yond itself. Such changes as external bodies undergo 44 PSYCHOLOGY. are never self-originated, but are initiated from an out- side source. But the mind lias the power of acting upon itself and of producing from within itself a new, original, and unique activity which we know as sensa- tion. The appearance of physical causation which ac- companies it is due to the fact that the nervous change is always necessary as a stimulus to the soul, and, fur- thermore, when this stimulus is once present, it is not left to the soul voluntarily to determine whether and how it will act, but, by a mechanism of its own, it re- sponds to the stimulus in a definite and invariable way. Y. Functions of Sensation. Having considered the relation of the physical to the psychical factor in sensation, we have now to say something about the position of sensation in the psychical life, or its function considered with reference to the mind as a whole. 1. Sensation is the meeting-place, the point of coin- cidence of self and nature. It is in sensation that nature touches the soul in such a way that it becomes itself psy- chical, and tl\at the soul touches nature so as to become itself natural. A sensation is, indeed, the transition of the physical into the psychical. This is seen in two ways : (1.) From the Two Elements Involved in Sensation. — There is no sensation without both the physical action of the body in the shape of motion, and psychical ac- tion in the way of the soul's response to it. Attempts to do away with either of these elements are equally futile. Thus, on one side, the soul completes nature. What significance or value would nature have for us were it nought but a never-ending, monotonous series ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 45 of motions? All the variety of nature as it appears to us, all that gives it interest, the infinite difference in colors and sounds, in shapes and forms, etc. — all this is due to the response of the soul to simple motions. Sensations not Subjective States Alone. — Sensations, accordingly, are not mere subjective states of our own absolutely separated from nature. As Lotze says: " Sound and color are no worse because they are sim- ply our sensations. They constitute, in fact, the exact end which nature was aiming at with its waves of ether and light, but which it could not accomplish by itself alone. To reach this end it needed soul, so that there might be realized through the action of the soul in sensation the beauty of shimmering light and of ringing sound." As the soul is the completion of nature, so nature in the form of physical motions is necessary to the activity of the soul. Were it not stimulated by them, it would remain an eternal blank, never reveal- ing itself in the endless riches of manifestation which it now shows forth. (2.) From the Two Principles Involved in Sensa- tion. — On the one hand, there is the psychical prin- ciple by which the soul develops an utterly new state, something which can be accounted for only by attrib- uting to the soul original and unique powers, tran- scending the highest principle of physical action — that of the correlation of energy. But, on the other hand, there is the mechanical principle. The physical stim- ulus is necessary, and, once given, the soul reacts upon it with a necessity and invariability comparable only to the mechanical processes of nature. It is not left to the soul to say whether there shall be a sensation or not, nor of what kind it will please to have it. The 46 PSYCHOLOGY. fact of the order, constancy, and certainty of sensations requires the mechanical principle for their comprehen- sion, as much as the fact that they are states of con- sciousness requires the psychical. 2. Sensations as Raw Material of Knowledge. — Out of the stuff of sensations, upon them as data, are built both the world as known and the self as existing. There is no need of dwelling upon this here, as the whole subject of knowledge will but illustrate the means by which this raw material of sensation is worked up into the concrete forms of knowledge. The exist- ence of sensation is equally necessary on both subjec- tive and objective sides. Without it the self would remain forever unrealized, a mere bundle of capacities, and the world would remain forever unidealized or un- known, a mere blank. From the sensations of various kinds, through their elaboration by processes hereafter to be studied, are built up the concrete forms of the world as it exists for our knowledge, and are constructed those definite ways of knowing which make the soul, on its intellectual side, a reality. We have now to study these various kinds of sensa- tions, having determined the nature of sensation in general. § 2. Special Senses. Kinds of Sensations. — Sensations are classified, as already stated, into specific and general : those origi- nating through organs especially adapted for their production, and those which are occasioned incident- ally through organs whose main function is the regu- lation of some organic activity. Both of these orders of sensations are subdivided into classes. Lest it ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 47 may be thought from this that they have no likeness in kind, it may be well to precede their particular study by a few remarks regarding touch, as the con- necting link of the various classes of sensation. Touch, as Fundamental Sense.— Whether we study this sense from its physiological side, the organ through which it is realized, or from the psychological side, the conscious states in which it is expressed, we are led to the conclusion that touch is the fundamental sense. 1. Physiological. — If we consider the organism pos- sessing the lowest form of nervous apparatus, we find it to be capable of responding to stimuli of immediate contact only. Yet there is evidence that these organ- isms appreciate stimuli which we cannot appreciate through the sense of touch. Differences of color, for example, call forth various actions on the part of the organism ; there is no evidence to show that this is appreciated as difference of color, but it is felt in some way, so as to call forth different actions. This gives us reason for believing that originally the organs of touch serve in an undifferentiated way for the reception of all stimuli whatever. This conclusion is strength- ened when we find that, as we advance in the animal scale, each new sensory organ is developed out of the same layer of the body that contains the touch organs ; and these new organs seem to be but higher develop- ments of portions serving previously to discriminate sensations of contact. 2. Psychological. — This is the result which we should have been led to expect, looking at the matter psycho- logically. Motion is, as we have seen, the sole stimu- lus of sensation ; and motion can affect the body only 48 PSYCHOLOGY. by actual contact with it. The various sense organs are thus organs differentiated for the reception of vari- ous modes of motion, i. e., for various kinds of contact. Touch, as we know it, is immediate contact; hear- ing, receiving waves of some ponderable medium, brings us in contact, as it were, with bodies at a dis- tance; while the eye, sensible to etheric vibrations, ex- tends the range of contact indefinitely. As long ago as the times of the Greek Democritus, it was remarked that all the senses are reducible to touch. There are also other striking psychological peculiarities of touch. (1.) It Forms the Connection between the General and the Special Senses. — (i.) It is like general sensation, since it has no especially differentiated organ, but is distribut- ed by means of the skin over the whole body. It is like the special senses, since this organ gives rise to con- tact sensations, specifically, not incidentally, (it.) It passes by gentle gradations into each. Sensations of tickling, tingling, and pricking, with those of heat and cold, scattered over the whole body, connect touch with organic sensation. Such facts as that vibrations between about thirty and forty thousand per second are felt as sound, while below thirty they seem to be actual jars, and above forty thousand whirs in the body itself, and that in the blind and deaf touch serves for eye and ear, show the' affinity of touch with the special senses. {Hi.) It stands midway between general and specific sensation with reference to feeling or emotional tone. In organic sensations the factor of feeling predomi- nates above the cognitive aspect. Such sensations serve rather to tell us whether the organism is affected pleasantly or the reverse, than to give us knowledge about objects. The reverse is the case with specific ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 49 sensation. In touch it is difficult to tell which element predominates. That contact sensations are the basis of a large store of knowledge cannot be denied, while the importance of their emotional side is shown by the fact that in ordinary language to feel anything is to touch it. (2.) Touch also Occupies a Unique Psychological Po- sition, oy Virtue of its Connection with the Muscular System. — No nerve organ can be purely passive, even physically speaking, in sensation. It must adjust it- self to the stimulus. The mouth must secrete saliva and move the sapid substance about. We must sniff with the nostrils. The tympanum of the ear must be stretched ; the eye-lenses must be accommodated, and the two eyes converged, and each must have muscular connections. But the connection of contact sensations with muscular sensations is still more intimate. They are inextricably united. It is only in cases of disease that we ever have one without the other. Thus the activities of our own body and those of external bodies are indissolubly associated from the first. The whole importance of this we shall learn hereafter. (3.) Touch is the Test Sense, as well as the source of the others. They return to it, as well as proceed from it. It is the gold basis from which the other senses issue promises to pay. We may have sensations of light which are produced within the organism itself; noises may be subjective " roarings ;" smells and tastes, etc., may arise from a disordered organism. The test of whether something exists corresponding to the sen- sation is always an appeal to touch, with its associated muscular activity. We are sure the object is really there when we can get hold of it. The sparks we see 3 50 PSYCHOLOGY. when we fall we know to belong to ourselves, and not to the object, because they are not associated with some constant touch sensation ; they change position with every change of position of the body. On account of this fundamental character of touch, we shall begin our special studies of sensation with it, and, following the order laid down under the general consideration of sensation, shall take up: 1. The phys- ical stimulus; 2. The physiological stimulus; 3. The conscious sensation. On account of the connection of contact sensations with muscular we shall consider this subject under the following heads : I. Passive touch, or touch proper, as separate from muscular activity ; II. Muscular sensa- tions ; III. Active touch, the union of the two pre- vious. §3. Touch. I. Passive Touch. 1. The Physical Stimulus. — This is mechanical pressure; consequently all bodies possessing weight, whether solids, liquids, or gases, are capable, under proper conditions, of exciting sensations of contact. Not all contact, however, with external bodies excites sensation. The pressure must reach a certain degree, known as its threshold value / for over this threshold, as it were, any stimulus must pass to enter into con- sciousness. This value varies with different parts of the body; the smallest amount appreciable is .002 grammes, by the cheek and back of hand. Upon the heel a pressure equal to one gram is required for feel- ing. Change of stimulus is also necessary, or at least contrast. If the hand be plunged into a liquid at rest no contact sensation is felt except at the margin ; or ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 51 if it be evenly compressed by a solid, as paraffine, only the boundary is felt. 2. Physiological Stimulus, or Organ. — This is the skin of the whole body and the openings of the various membranes. Touch is classified as a special sense, be- cause in the true skin, beneath the cuticle, exist certain peculiar endings of the nerves in raised organs, called papillae, the stimulation of which appears to be neces- sary for the existence of any contact sensation. The tip of the tongue and the ends of the fingers, being especially well supplied with the papillae, may be re- garded as the specific organs of contact. 3. Sensation of Touch. — Two kinds are recognized : (1), pressure sensations, due to the weight of the affect- ing body ; (2), place sensations, due to the position of the body affected. (1.) Pressure Sensations. — These are excited when- ever any ponderable body is laid upon some portion of the skin at rest — a condition which is rarely perfectly fulfilled, as the muscles are generally brought into ac- tion to support and test the weight. It is a character- istic of pressure sensation that not every change of weight is felt. It is found that if a given weight affects the hand it must be increased by at least one third before the difference of pressure is felt, no mat- ter how slight or strong be the intensity of the existing sensation. That is to say, if the objective stimulus be 1 gram, -J of a gram must be added for any new sen- sation to result ; if it be 10 pounds, 3^ pounds must be added, or no change of intensity in the feeling ap- pears. This difference of stimulus, necessary to change of sensation, is called the difference threshold, and for pressure sensations is stated at 3 : 4. 52 PSYCHOLOGY. Weber's Law. — Anticipating the study of the other senses, it may be well to state here that some ratio, although quantitatively different, is believed to exist for every sense. That is to say, it is true of every sense that not every change in objective stimulus oc- casions a change in subjective sensation, but that every change in stimulus must bear a certain definite ratio (varying in the different senses) to the already existing stimulus before the intensity of the sensation, as a con- scious state, changes. Differently stated, not absolute stimuli are felt, but only relative. This law is often called Weber's law, after its discoverer, and is stated as follows : The intensity of one sensation changes from that of the preceding sensation, when the stintalus of the former changes in a fixed ratio to that of the latter. This ratio of change is ■§• in the case of passive touch, as just seen ; in active touch it is -jV; that is, the addi- tion of a weight T V as great as the existing weight will change the sensation. Methods of Research. — The determination of this law evidently falls under the head of experimental psy- chology, and, as illustrating the methods of this, it may be well briefly to mention the ways in which Weber's law has been established. (i.) The Method of Right and Wrong Cases. — Here two weights are used, one slightly heavier than the other, and the person experimented upon is required to tell from touch alone which is the heavier, and the process is repeated a large number of times with the same weights. It is evident that if the difference be- tween the two weights is less than the real difference threshold, there will be no basis for judgment, and the number of right and wrong cases, or guesses, will- be ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 53 about evenly divided. Just in the degree in which the difference approaches the true ratio will the percent- age of right cases increase, and when the ratio is made too large, about all the cases will be correctly judged. (ii.) Method of Just Perceptible Differences. — A cer- tain weight is laid on the hand. This is slightly in- creased. Probably no difference of sensation is felt. But more and more weight is added until the sensation does increase in intensity. This is repeated again and again, and the average difference taken as the basis for calculating the proper ratio. {Hi.) Method of Average Error. — A certain weight is put on the hand, and the person experimented upon is required to tell when another weight equals this. This is repeated a large number of times. Each time there will be a slight error, either positive or negative ; that is, the weight supposed to be equal will, as mat- ter of fact, be greater or less. The exact amount of error is noticed each time, and their average being taken will approach the normal perceptible difference. Interpretations of the Law. — The law has been in- terpreted physiologically, psycho-physically, and psy- chologically. (a.) Physiological Interpretation. — This holds that the law is due to the nature of nerve-action. It holds that the sensation, as a conscious state, is directly pro- portional to the physiological stimulus, but that the physiological stimulus, owing to unknown causes, is not directly proportional to the physical stimulus, but in- creases more slowly than it. (b.) Psycho-physical. — This holds that the law ex- presses the relations -which exist between the physical nervous stimulus, and the psychical reaction to it, or the 54 PSYCHOLOGY. relations which exist between body and soul. Hence, Weber's law is often called the psycho-physical law. Fechner, who has made very careful and complete ex- periments, has adopted this view, and states the law in mathematical form as follows : The intensity of the sensation varies with the logarithm of the stimulus. This statement is called Fechner's law, but is not gen- erally accepted. (c.) Psychological. — This holds that the law ex- presses neither the relation which the physiological stimulus holds to the physical, nor that with which the psychical responds to the nervous stimulus, but that it simply expresses a universal law of psychical judgment : that we appreciate any psychical state not by what it absolutely is, but what it is in reference to some other psychical state with which we compare it. We have no absolute measure for the intensity of a sensation, but measure it by comparing it with the sensation which immediately preceded it. The proper interpre- tation has not yet been finally decided upon, and a fur- ther discussion would lead us beyond our proper limits. We return from this digression to a study of (2.) Place Sensations. — This expression must not be taken to mean that we have any sensations of place as such. The reference of a sensation to a given object or position is a further act of mind, to be studied under the head of perception. The phrase means simply that there exists a difference in the quality of the sensations corresponding to differences in the parts of the body whence they originate. What the exact nature of this difference is we do not know ; we know, however, that it must exist, or there would be no basis for the mind to act upon in referring a sensation to one position ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 55 rather than to another. This difference is called the local sign. The local sign, in other words, is that peculiarity of the sensation which differentiates a sensation com- ing, say, from the extreme tip of the thumb of the left hand, from one of the same intensity and otherwise of the same quality coming from a similar part of the right hand. This peculiarity the mind uses as a sign of the part affected, and thus learns to localize impres- sions. Sensory Circles. — That portion of the skin which has a local sign of its own is known as a sensory circle, and the skin is regarded as made up of a myriad of these circles. They differ much in size in various parts of the body, as is shown by the following simple ex- periment. The dulled points of a pair of compasses are placed upon the skin, separated from each other a certain distance, and the person touched tells whether he feels two points or one. The spatial separation of the two points necessary for the recognition of two distinct sensations measures the diameter of that por- tion of the body which has one and the same local sign ; that is, the sensory circle. The discriminative sensi- bility is greatest upon the tongue. There two separate sensations are recognized when the points are -fa of an inch apart. Upon the tip of the fingers the distance discriminated is T V of an inch, while upon the middle of the back the points must be separated at least 1J- inches. Mobility and Local Discrimination. — It is found, as a general thing, that discriminative sensibility is a function of the mobility of the part. The finest differ- ences are felt by those portions of the body most often in motion, while those parts which are relatively non- 56 PSYCHOLOGY. sensitive, like the middle of the back, are just those parts of the body which are most fixed. This intro- duces us to the subject of II. Muscular Sensation. 1. Physical Stimulus. — This is broadly marked off from that of the other senses in arising from an ac- tivity originated by the organism itself, not by an ex- ternal affection. It stands opposed to the other senses as active to passive. As long as the muscle is merely affected by strain or pressure from without there is con- tact sensation alone. Muscular sensation arises only when the organism reacts against the pressure. It is due to the body's own exertion. 2. Organ. — There are three theories regarding the physiological process which ultimately results in sen- sation. (1.) One theory holds that there are specific sensory nerves which end with certain organs in the muscles, and that the muscular sensations take their rise there, just as visual sensations do in the retina of the eye. (2.) Another theory holds that there are no specific muscular nerve organs, but that the so-called muscular sensations are in reality produced by the tension, the push and pull, of the muscles against the skin, liga- ments, joints, etc. (3.) The third theory is known as the innervation theory, and holds that the sensation is of central, not peripheral origin, and is a feeling of effort or expended energy. It originates in the brain and is transmitted along the motor nerves. It is probable that while each of these theories may have an element of truth within it, the second approaches nearest to the real state of the case. ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 57 3. The Sensations. — These are most conveniently di- vided into sensations of (1) movement, or unhindered effort, and those of (2) strain, or impeded effort. The muscles may contract freely without experiencing ex- ternal resistance, or they meet external obstruction. The sweep of the arm through the air illustrates the first ; the pushing of a box the second. Sensations of movement vary with the direction of the movement, whether it be up or down, right or left, and with its duration, whether it be performed swiftly or slowly. Sensations of resistance vary in intensity according to the amount of resistance which has to be overcome. Psychological Importance. — The muscular sensations are exceedingly important, both in themselves and in their combination with other classes. (i.) In Themselves. — The sensations of duration and direction of movement, combined with that of force exerted, enable us to get a very accurate knowledge of the position and tension of various muscles, and thus forms the basis of our knowledge of our own body, and gives us the basis for discriminating our own body from extra-organic bodies. Furthermore, since knowl- edge of the position of the body and of its various parts is the necessary condition of performing any in- tentional movement, the muscular sensations are as im- portant for volition as for knowledge. The muscular sensation constantly reports to consciousness the exact condition of the position and tension of all voluntary muscles, and thus enables the mind to control old move- ments and instigate new ones. (ii.) In Connection with Other Senses. — Of the union of muscular sensation with that of touch we shall pres- ently speak. With reference to vision, it may be no- 3* 58 PSYCHOLOGY. ticed that the eye is liberally supplied with a complex and carefully adjusted system of muscles, which makes it the easiest moved and most discriminating in its movements of all the organs of the body. The mus- cles also are so arranged that the mechanism of each eye is internally regulated, and the two eyes always act in unison. For hearing, muscular sensations are im- portant in three ways. First, they enable the mechan- ism of the ear to be so arranged that the ear is ad- justed to the greatest possible range of sounds, and to the most delicate discrimination of any sound. Sec- ondly, they form the connection between the organs of speech and hearing, and thus render it possible to reproduce, voluntarily, tones and noises. Thirdly, they form the connection between sounds and certain regu- lar movements — those of marching, dancing, etc. — and thus greatly sharpen, if they do not actually incite, the sense of rhythm. In the sense of taste, the muscles serve to keep the food in motion, thus varying the sen- sation and bringing it in contact with the most sensi- tive parts ; while in smell it is found that, without con- stant motion of the odorous gas, occasioned by sniffing, there is no sensation of odor produced. III. Active Touch. In normal life sensations of contact proper are al- ways accompanied by muscular sensations. It is only in disordered or abnormal conditions that they can be separated. This union has the following advantages: 1. It greatly multiplies the number of impressions which can be had in a given time, thus abbreviating all touch processes. 2. It renders it possible to bring the object to be touched into contact with the most ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 59 sensitive part of the organ, thus sharpening the sensa- tion. 3. It occasions a rapid succession of impressions, thus heightening the contrast of those which are un- like, and rendering them more distinct. Active touch can thus discriminate differences of -^ while passive touch is limited to J. Ideas Got through Active Touch. — The union of con- tact and muscular sensations, when interpreted by the mental processes, constitutes the basis of the following ideas. (1.) The hardness or softness of a bodj. This is not given by mere weight sensations. It is discov- ered only by running the hand over the body, com- pressing, moulding it, etc. (2.) The elasticity or inertia of the body. (3.) The roughness, smoothness, etc., of the body. When the hand is moving and touches suc- cessive points, the body is judged coarse or rough. When the muscular sensations are united with con- tinuous contact sensations it is judged to be fine or smooth. All these qualities as referred to bodies are not sensations proper, but judgments made on the basis of sensations. The student will observe that a large number of sen- sations originating in the skin are not to be properly classed with touch feelings. Such are heat and cold, tingling, itching, numbness, etc. § 4. The Sense of Smell. I. Physical Stimulus. — Heat, so far as known, does not occasion this sensation. Whether electricity and mechanical pressure do so is disputed. The specific stimulus is what we call physical odor. Just what properties in a body make it odorous are not known. The substance, however, must be capable of assuming a 60 PSYCHOLOGY. gaseous form. Neither solids nor liquids, unless vola- tizable, excite sensation. Of some substances an ex- ceedingly small amount suffices. Of musk, 3nnnjTnnr of a milligramme is enough. II. Organ. — This is the ending of the olfactory nerve found in the mucous membrane of the upper and back parts of the nostrils. Touching the mode of excitation, nothing is known except that it is some mode of chemical action, and that no sensation results if the particles remain stationary. III. The Sensation Itself. — The difference threshold, or the ratio of the discriminative sensibility of the sense, has never been satisfactorily determined. There is no satisfactory classification of odors. The same substance occasions various odors to different persons and to the same person at different times. Certain sensations, ordinarily called those of smell, may, how- ever, be excluded; such are sharp, pungent sensations, originating from snuff, etc. These are properly feel- ings of mechanical irritation. So-called fresh and close smells are due rather to sensations excited in the lungs than to stimulation of the nostrils, and hence are organic in character. Disgust is an alimentary rather than olfactory sensation. Connection with Organic Feelings. — Odor sensations have a close connection with organic, and are related rather to the emotional side of our nature than to our cognitive. Psychologically, the best classification of odors is, therefore, into agreeable and disagreeable, as this frankly recognizes their subjective character. By reason of its organic connection, smell is of great im- portance in regulating animal life. As Bidder says, it is placed at the entrance of the respiratory organs, ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 61 like a watchman. What is disagreeable in odor is re- jected from the system; with the sense of taste it serves as a guardian over the digestive organs, prevent- ing the entrance of whatever might be harmful. Connection with Appetite. — By reason of its connec- tion with feeling the sense of smell awakens desire and repulsion for and against the substances which are odorous. Smells occasion all sorts of impulses and longings; some thirst, others hunger, others sexual. This fact appears more plainly in animals than in us; as in them smell is most closely connected with in- stinct. To them it serves as a means of preserving life by teaching to find friend, avoid foe, and discover food, and by directing to their mates. Hence in ani- mals the centre in the brain for the sense of smell is often its predominating part, while in man it is re- duced to insignificant proportions. In man this sense is overlaid by the intellectual processes; if a man wishes to find another man he uses none of his senses, but reflects upon the place where he is most likely to be found. The dog simply uses his sense of smell, and follows scent. § 5. Taste. I. Physical Stimulus. — Both electricity and me- chanical pressure occasion gustatory sensation. If the tongue be electrically stimulated a sour taste is felt at the anode and an alkaline at the cathode. If pressure be brought to bear upon the back of the tongue a bit- ter taste arises ; if it be rapidly tapped, a sour. The specific stimulus, however, is that quality known as sa- pidity. Only bodies in a liquid condition are sapid. Solids can be tasted only in a crystallized, and hence 62 PSYCHOLOGY. soluble, form. The threshold value for taste varies with different substances. One part of sulphuric acid in a million parts of water can be tasted, while one eightieth of sugar is required. II. Organ. — Taste has been ascribed to all portions of the mouth from the lips to the stomach, but is prop- erly confined to those portions of the tongue and soft palate furnished with papillae. Experiments have been directed towards ascertaining whether certain tastes are confined or not to certain portions of the organ. The result is somewhat in doubt, but it is generally believed that bitter is best tasted on the soft palate and back of the tongue, and sweet and sour on the tip. III. The Sensation Itself. — The classification of tastes is rendered difficult by the same causes operative in the case of smell — they can be reduced to four, how- ever : sweet, sour, bitter, and salt. Pungent tastes must be excluded; as must also alkaline, astringent, and metallic tastes, which seem to be combinations of touch, taste, and smell. Many so-called tastes, like that of onions, are properly odors. Nausea is an or- ganic sensation. The specific taste that distinguishes one body from another, as an apple from an orange, is not taste proper, but a combination of various sensory properties. Organic Connection. — Taste is rather an outpost of the whole system, for enabling it to assimilate the ben- eficial and reject the harmful, than a source of special cognitions. Psychologically, it hardly ranks as high as smell, for the associative power of the latter — as the odor of new -mown hay, or of a sniff of salt wa- ter — is very considerable. Odors in general seem to ))G associated with higher moods and states, of which ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 63 fact the poets have availed themselves. Smell also can discriminate successive odors much better than taste. Taste, however, is capable of quite high specific cul- tivation, as is seen in epicures and professional wine and tea tasters, etc. § 6. Sense of Hearing. I. Physical Stimulus. — Electricity and mechanical pressure both act as stimuli : an example of the latter is found in the sensations of roaring, etc., due probably to unusual pressure of the blood-vessels. The specific stim- uli are the vibrations of some elastic ponderable medium, generally air, known as physical sound. These vibra- tions must be within the limits of from eighteen to forty thousand per second. As to the lower limit of intensity, or threshold value, this sense seems to be most sensitive of all: a wave length of .00004 millimetre possesses sufficient energy to excite sensation. A difference of one third of a vibration will make a perceptible change in the sensation to a highly cultivated ear. II. Organ. — The organ is the ear, consisting of ex- ternal, middle, and internal portions. The former two serve only as an apparatus for condensing and trans- mitting vibrations. The internal ear possesses the nerve-endings, exceedingly complex, for transforming the physical into the physiological stimulus. The ap- paratus especially fitted for this is generally said to be the basilear layer of the organs of Oorti. This is thought to be a complicated series of minute stretched cords, like those of a harp ; each of which possesses, like every vibrating medium, a certain definite rate of vibration, depending on its length and tension. Each of these is, accordingly, attuned to some mode of ex- 64 PSYCHOLOGY. ternal vibration to which it responds. It thus forms an organ for all possible degrees of pitch. Whenever any external medium propagates vibrations of a cer- tain rate that cord of this layer which has the same rate selects it, and responds to it. These vibrations are then conveyed to the brain by means of the audi- tory nerve. III. The Sensation Itself. — There are certain distinc- tions in the sounds which psychically result from these transmitted, vibrations, which render possible a classi- fied treatment of them. Sounds vary (1) in intensity; (2) in pitch; (3) in tone, color, or quality. Sounds, that is to say, are either loud or soft, high or low, noises or tones. 1. Intensity. — The difference threshold for hearing is placed at one third — that is, it is found that an exist- ing sound must be increased one third before difference of intensity is perceptible. The intensity of a sensa- tion corresponds to the amplitude of the vibration which occasions it. A vibration is a periodic motion, or one which returns after equal intervals of time to the same phase or state of motion. It possesses, ac- cordingly, breadth or amplitude; the moving particle swings a certain distance to and fro from its place of rest. The wider swing shows the greater energy of the vibrating particle, and, consequently, affects the nerve with greater force, and results in a more intense or louder sound. Hence the decrease of the loudness of sound with increase of distance from the sounding body. On the one hand, the waves extend in all di- rections in space, so that fewer of them reach the ear, and, on the other, these few are lessened in amplitude by the friction of resisting mediums. ELEMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 65 2. Pitch. — Vibrations, or periodic motions, possess rate as well as amplitude. That is, the period of vibra- tion lasts a certain time; the vibrating particle will return from one phase of motion to the same again a certain number of times per second. The greater the rate, i. fourth essay; Spen- cer (op. cit.'). vol. ii., pp. 627-648 ; Nahlowsky (op. cit.), pp. 162-197 ; Horwicz (op. cit.), vol. ii., pt. 2, pp. 176-225 ; Wundt, " Phys. Psy." vol. ii., pp. 179-194 ; Perez, "First Three Years," pp. 265-281; Hecker, "Die Psychologie des Lachens und des Komischen;" Siebeck, "Das Wesen der iisthetischen An- schauung;" Carriere, "Die Idee des Schonen;" "Das Wesen und die Formen der Poesie;" Dimetresco, "Der Sohonheitsbegriff;" Dreher, " Kunst in ihrer Beziehung zur Psychologie;" Hermann, "Aesthetische Farbcnlehre ;" Yischer, "Aesthetik;" Ulrici, " Grundziige der praktischen Philosophic," pp. 157-183; Rosenkranz, " Aesthetik des Hasslichen;" Eye, "Das Reich des Schonen;" Lotze, "Geschichte der Aesthetik;" Fechner, "Vorsehule der Aesthetik;" Neudecker, "Studien" (historical); Perez, " L'Education," etc., pp. 111-159; Joly (op. cit.), p. 210 f. ; Meyer, " Aus der asthetischen Piidagogik ;" Volk- mann (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 353-363. CHAPTER XYI. PERSONAL FEELING. Definition and Mode of Treatment. — Personal feel- ings are such as arise from the relations of self-con- scious beings to each other. All feeling is the accom- paniment of self-realization. ~No individual can real- ize himself in impersonal relations — relations of things to each other or to an ideal. He can truly develop him- self only in self-conscious activity, in personality, and this is impossible without relations to other persons. A person developing his personality in isolation from other persons, through contact with intellectual or aes- thetic material, is impossible. It is hardly conceivable that he should ever become a being capable of know- ing objects, and of enjoying beauty, without the aid and stimulus given by others; it is impossible to con- ceive him as developing the social side of his nature. Following the lines hitherto laid down, we shall take up: (I.) The general nature of personal feeling; (II.) Personal feeling as a spring to action, or love ; (III.) The objective side of personal feeling, the social judg- ment or conscience. I. General Nature of Personal Feeling. — There are sometimes said to be two distinct kinds of feeling for persons; one, feelings for self, egoistic or personal feelings, properly so called ; the other, feelings for others, altruistic or social feelings. This division sup- PERSONAL FEELING. 327 poses that, in the first place, feelings belong to our own limited individuality, and are considered only as they affect one's immediate self, but may afterwards be ex- tended to include other individuals. It overlooks the necessary reciprocal relation of egoistic and altruistic feelings. There can be no egoistic feelings except as the self is distinguished from others and set over against them ; there can be no altruistic feelings, except as oth- ers are recognized in their relations to self, and com- pared with it. Our first feelings are not personal, in the sense of egoistic. They are, properly considered, not personal at all ; they become personal only as they are referred to per- sons; and they cannot be referred to the ego, except as the ego is compared, consciously or unconsciously, with others, and preferred before them ; they cannot become altruistic except as others are compared with the immediate claims of the ego. The love of proper- ty, the feeling of rivalry, of anger, of the love of ap- probation, the feeling of self-esteem or pride, of sel- fishness, may be egoistic feelings, but they are so only because of an act which recognizes, at one and the same time, self and not-self, ego and alter. The self has no meaning except as contrasted with other per- sons. Egoistic feelings are impossible except through a connection with altruistic feelings. " Mine " requires a contrasted "thine." Classification of Personal Feelings. — Recognizing, therefore, that personal feelings cannot be classified as egoistic and altruistic, as each necessarily involves the other, we may properly classify them, in the order of increasing universality, as social, moral, and relig- ious. ISTot only are egoistic feelings not the original 328 PSYCHOLOGY. type of personal feelings, but they are not normal feel- ings at all, when egoistic is interpreted in a selfish sense. Love of property, for example, is not a selfish feeling; it is one form in which the self necessarily expands and expresses its being. It becomes selfish only when the feeling is isolated from the object, and the pleasure of property, the connection of property with one's immediate self, is made the object of con- templation or of action. Severed in this way from its connection with the object, and given independent ex- istence in consciousness, it is, like all sucli feeling, ab- normal. 1. Social Feelings. — Since feelings for self are as thoroughly social in their nature as feelings for others ; since, indeed, one class is not possible without the oth- er, we recognize two forms of social feeling, of self and of others. One is the feeling of others in their relation to self; the other is the feeling of self in its relation to others. They are not feelings which can exist apart from one another ; they are phases of the same feeling separable only through abstraction. Each is further resolvable into two types : feeling for others, into sympathy and antipathy; feeling for self, into humility and pride. (1.) Sympathy and Antipathy. — Both of these feel- ings manifest the essential unity of human nature, ap- pearing though it does in various individuals. They are feelings which result from the identification of one's self with another, antipathy no less than sympa- thy. Were it not for the unity of one nature with an- other, and the possible identification resulting from this kinship, the feeling of indifference (which is properly not a feeling, but its absence) would be the only state PEESONAL FEELING. 329 of mind in which one person could stand towards an- other. Antipathy, — The special forms of antipathy are dis- gust and indignation. In disgust we identify the state of mind or experience of others with ourselves, and find it repulsive to our own actual state. Indignation is to be distinguished from anger and rage. The lat- ter are more or less blind, impulsive outbursts of feel- ing against whatever obstructs our pleasurable activity or brings us positive pain. They may be directed against things as well as persons ; it is only by experi- ence that they come to be restricted to the latter. In- dignation is a feeling that results from identifying the course of action or emotional mood of another with ourselves, when, this course or mood comes short in large measure of our own ideal. Could we not iden- tify the other person with self, and then measure both by a common ideal, the feeling of indignation would be impossible. Sympathy. — This feeling results from an identifica- tion of such experiences of others as are felt to be possible experiences of our own with self. The feeling may be unpleasant as much as that which excites dis- gust, but the experience which excites the latter feel- ing is one which we feel repulsive to our inmost self; while that awakening sympathy we feel as something common to our natures. In sympathy we take the feel- ings of another for our own ; in disgust or indignation, we say that we would not have such feelings for our own. We generally speak of sympathizing with the griefs of others, but, of course, sympathy comprehends their joys as well. But the community of sorrow seems wider than that of gladness. 330 PSYCHOLOGY. Origin of Sympathy— Sympathy has its origin in what is termed resonance or contagion of feeling. There is a psychical atmosphere as well as a physical, and one living in this atmosphere absorbs and reflects it. Laughter and crying are both " catching." We unconsciously reproduce the feelings of those about us; we take on their mood unaware. The method ap- pears to be as follows : we see the physical sign of grief or joy. By pure reflex or imitative action our own features tend to take on this expression and induce the same feeling. There is the tendency to interpret this sign, and as the feeling can be interpreted only as it is reproduced, the person himself assumes the mood. We know what the sign of anger means only as we ourselves feel anger. These two facts combined form the psychological mechanism of the origin of sympathy. Nature of Sympathy. — But this is only the basis of the emotion. As already said, in sympathy we take the feelings of others for our own. The process just described only reproduces in ourselves the feelings of others; it originates certain emotions in ourselves, but that is all that it does. For sympathy, we must not only have this feeling ourselves, but we must recog- nize, in addition, that it is the experience of some one else. A skilful actor may, by the foregoing process, awaken in us just the emotion which he desires, but this is not necessarily sympathy. For we may recog- nize that it is all a "show," a make-believe, and thus, while experiencing just the same feelings as the actor, never dream of projecting them beyond ourselves, and of regarding them as the real feelings of others. Sym- pathy, in short, is the reproduction of the experience PEKS0NAL FEELING. 331 of another, accompanied by the recognition of the fact that it is his experience. Conditions of Sympathy. — The conditions of sympa- thetic feeling are, therefore, first, ability to apprehend, consciously or unconsciously, the feelings of others, and to reproduce them in our minds; and, secondly, the ability to forget self, and remember that these feel- ings, although our own feelings, are, after all, the ex- perience of some one else. Sympathy involves dis- tinction as well as identification. I must not only assume into myself the experiences of a man who is suffering from poverty, in order to sympathize with him, but I must realize them as his ; I must separate them from my own personal self, and objectify them in him. Thus it is that many persons who are extremely sen- sitive to the feelings of others are quite unsympathet- ic. They register in their own mood each slight vari- ation of feeling in those about them, as a barometer registers physical variations; but they have no true sympathy, for they regard these new feelings only as new experiences of their own; they do not project them outward. The conditions of such projection are, first, sufficient emotional experience of our own to be able to apprehend and take on those of others; second, such an active interest in others as will en- able us to regard these experiences as truly theirs. We must not only take their life into ours, but we must put ours into them. Sympathy, as active inter- est, thus becomes love and a spring to action, which we will treat under the second head. Function of Sympathy. — It is impossible to over- estimate the importance of sympathy in the emotional 332 PSYCHOLOGY. life. It is there what attention is in the strictly intel- lectual department; as the latter is the sole means by which objects and relations come within the reach of our consciousness, so sympathy is the sole means by which persons come within the range of our life. It is thus an extremely universal feeling, for it takes us beyond what constitutes our immediate personality, our private interests and concerns, into what univer- sally constitutes personality. It may be limited at first to those of our own family, our own rank in society, our own neighborhood, but this is because of a defec- tive sympathy; it is because we have learned to sym- pathize only with that which is in harmony with some limited aspect of our own nature ; as our nature widens and becomes developed there must be a corresponding increase of sympathy, and this increase can reach its end only in a completely developed personalit} 7 , a per- sonality which has become absolutely universal. Such a sympathy can, of course, recognize no distinction of social rank, wealth, or learning, or anything that tends to cut of! one person from another. Sympathy and Social Relations. — Sympathy is the bond of union between men ; it is to the social sphere what gravitation is to the physical. It is the expres- sion of the spiritual unity of mankind. While it may, in its undeveloped condition, be confined, it is always widening to reach more men, and deepening to include more fundamental relations between men. It constitutes society an organic whole, a whole per- meated by a common life, where each individual still lives his own distinct life unabsorbed in that of the community. It is possible, perhaps, to conceive of a development of sympathy such that each individ- PERSONAL FEELING. 333 ual should simply take into himself the experiences of others, and not project them outward in realiz- ing that they are the experiences of persons. Such a development would result in each living a self- ahsorbed life, without recognizing his relations of spir- itual identity with other men. Or it is possible, to conceive such a development of sympathy that each should simply project himself outward, and lose his individual life in the life of the community, becoming more and more absorbed in it. In this case a sense of separate personality would be lost. But, as matter of fact, the nature of sympathy is such that growth in individuality is a necessary accompaniment of growth of universality of feeling. Sympathy identifies others with one's self, and at the same time distinguishes them from one's self. It enables us to realize our true nature, which is universal personality, by widening our life till it becomes as comprehensive as humanity, and at the same time deepens our own distinct individual- ity. The growth of feeling is like the growth of knowledge. It becomes more individual through uni- versal relations. (2.) Pride and Humility. — As sympathy and antip- athy are feelings for others as connected with self, so pride and humility are feelings of self as related to others. Pride is a sense of our own worth com- pared with a personality not ourselves, and humility is a sense of our demerit compared with such a per- sonality. Pride may be self-respect. As such, it is the feeling that we are personalities ; that there is em- bodied in us the infinite value of a self which is worthy of respect wherever found. As such, it is not an egoistic feeling, but the obverse of sympathy. In short, it is 334: PSYCHOLOGY. not feeling of our particular separate qualities ; it is feeling of our universal nature, that which we have in common with all personalities. When it is the feeling of some quality,' acquirement, or circumstance of self, pride takes the form of self-complacency, conceit, van- ity. Such feelings are egoistic, and prevent the person from getting outside of himself. Humility. — Humility is not necessarily opposed to self-respect. As self-respect is the recognition in feel- ing that w T e are persons, and, as such, cannot be put to any low use, so humility is the sense of the con- trast between this personality which constitutes our real (that is, objective and universal) being, and our actual state of attainment. As such, pride and hu- mility necessarily accompany each other. Humility may, however, be the sense of our own particular worth as compared with the particular worth of somebody else. As such it takes the form of sensi- tiveness, self -depreciation, perhaps even to degrada- tion ; though it may occur in the form of modesty, which, if genuine, is rather the absence of conceit than a positive form of feeling. Complex Forms. — It is not to be supposed that our analysis is able to correspond to the actual wealth of positive relations which social feelings assume; we are able only to indicate a few of the leading tpye. We may mention in addition certain more complex forms which result from the simple combi- nation of these, types. Antipathy combined with the egoistic form of humility, gives rise to the feeling of envy ; sympathy, similarly combined, givesjealousy, for where there is jealousy there is sympathy regard- ing the end in view, but recognition of one's own in- PERSONAL FEELING. 335 feriority, while envy would carp at all the attainments of another. Malice is the egoistic form of pride joined with antipathy; covetousness is the same form of feel- ing combined with sympathy. The student will find it an excellent psychological analysis to take the almost infinite variety of social feelings and analyze them into their elementary types. 2. Moral Feelings.— -The moral feelings are based upon the social feelings, and are an outgrowth of them. We recognize moral relations to those whom we feel to be identical in nature with ourselves. The feeling of sympathy as the basis of this identifica- tion of natures is, therefore, the source of all moral feeling. Moral feelings may be extended to include all possible relations, intellectual and aesthetic, as well as strictly social, but this is only when these relations are brought into connection with personality. In study- ing moral feelings we have only to ascertain how they are developed out of the social feelings, and what ele- ments, hitherto unrecognized, this development intro- duces. Feelings of tightness. — As the essential characteris- tic of an intellectual feeling is that it is the sense of truth, or the harmony between one object and relation and the ideal unity of all relations ; as the essential characteristic of an aesthetic feeling is that it is the sense of beauty, or the harmony between an object and the ideal value of all objects, so moral feeling is the sense of rightness, the feeling of the harmony ex- isting between an act of a person and the ideal of per- sonality. The feeling that an act is right is the feeling that in that act the ideal — that is, the perfectly objec- tive and universal — personality is realized ; the feeling 336 PSYCHOLOGY. of the wrongness of an act is the feeling that it does not conform to this ideal of personality, but contra- venes it. Intellectual feeling deals with the relations of objects ; aesthetic feeling with their ideal values ; social feelings with the relations of persons; moral feelings with the ideal relations and worths of per- sons. Moral Feeling is only Explicit Social Feeling. — It is evident from this that moral feeling only brings into conscious recognition what is all the time involved in social feeling. The essence of social feeling is that in it man feels himself identified with a self more com- prehensive, more permanent than his own private and particular being. He feels his true life to be that of all personalities ; he feels, in short, that he cannot real- ize himself except in a self which will unite and har- monize all the varied experiences of humanity. It is not meant, of course, that this relation of the actual self to the ideal, universal self is consciously recog- nized by all to be present when they experience social feeling. It is only meant that a fair analysis reveals this relation as constituting its essence. But in moral feeling this relation is brought more explicitly into consciousness. In moral feeling man feels his true self to be one which comprehends possible relations to all men, and all acts which are necessary to bring the actual self into harmony with this true self, to make his will, in other words, conform to a universal will, he conceives as duties. The Feeling of Obligation. — Besides the feeling of Tightness, it is evident that moral sentiment involves the feeling of obligation. In intellectual feeling, and in aesthetic feeling, there is no sense of obligation. PERSONAL FEELING. 337 We simply feel that the truth or the beauty is there. We feel no responsibility for its existence. If we feel any responsibility to reproduce them in ourselves, it is only because we have brought them in relation to per- sonality, and have conceived them as elements of a completed personality — as merely intellectual and aes- thetic no such responsibility is felt. But the feeling that a universal self is our own true being is neces- sarily accompanied by the feeling of obligation and responsibility. We feel bound to realize our own nat- ure because it is our nature, and feel responsible for its non-realization, because we are not dealing with a material which seems partially external to ourselves, and hence out of our control, like the relations consti- tuting the universe, or the ideal values which these relations express, but with our own very selves. Reverence and Remorse. — The combination of feel- ings of rightness and of obligation gives rise to the feeling of reverence. Reverence is the feeling that the object towards which it is directed is completely uni- versal, realizing in itself the wills of all men, and hence is entirely " right " or perfect, combined with the feel- ing that this personality is not foreign to our nature, but is its true being, and hence is an absolute obliga- tion upon it. The social feeling of humility becomes greatly deepened in the presence of such an ideal per- sonality. Remorse is the feeling of the chasm exist- ing between this ideal and our own actual state through some act of our own. We feel that we ought to have realized our own being, and that we could have done go, but that we have not. The feeling of this split, this dualism, in our nature constitutes remorse. 3. Religious Feeling. — Moral feeling is the out- 15 338 PSYCHOLOGY. growth and manifestation of the true nature of social feeling; religious feeling bears a similar relation to moral. There is a conflict in moral feeling as such. Moral feeling lays hold of our own true self, as one harmonizing all elements of human character, and says that this ought to be made real, and that our actual self must be made into conformity with it. Moral feeling involves, therefore, a gulf between the actual and the ideal or universal self. Our own nature does not completely manifest itself in moral relations; it does so partly, said ought to do so wholly. Our nature can be completely objectified or realized only when the chasm between what is .and what ought to be, be- tween the actual and the ideal self, is overcome. Re- ligious experience is the sphere in which this iden- tification of one's self with the completely realized personality, or God, occurs. Religious feeling is, therefore, the completely universal feeling, and with it the progressive development of feeling ends. It brings into our experience the elements which are in- volved in moral and social feeling, but are not made explicit in them. We shall briefly mention some of these elements. Feeling of Dependence. — In the feeling that our actual self is not our true self there is involved the element of dependence. In social relations we feel ourselves dependent upon other personalities for our development ; we feel that isolated we are deprived of most of our powers. In moral relations this depend- ence is consciously felt, as is expressed in the emotion of obligation. To feel that we ought to realize a cer- tain personal worth is to feel our dependence upon that worth. But this feeling does not become com- PERSONAL FEELING. 339 plete. There is always our own private self which is set up over against the universal self; this private self cannot be got rid of in moral action, although we feel that it ought to be abolished. But in religious feeling we recognize the worthlessness, the nullity, of this pri- vate separate self, and surrender ourselves wholly to the perfect personality, God. We feel that there is absolutely no independent element in us. It follows, of course, that the feeling is not one of physical de- pendence, one upon power, but a spiritual dependence; that whatever we have and are is not of our particular selves, but from God. Feeling of Peace. — Another element of religious feeling is that of the feeling of peace. This emotion is that of complete reconciliation, of harmony. So far as we attain the moral ideal there is this feeling, for the moral ideal is simply a completely unified person- ality, but, as already mentioned, the moral life is one of conflict. The unity is not attained. In the religious life, however, so far as one gives up wholly his own particular self (and except as he does this, there is no religious life), and takes the life of the completely har- monious Personality for his own, he is not living a life of conflict, but of apprehending that which abso- lutely is. There can be no essential dualism in his life, for the only thing which is real for him is that Being in whom personality is complete. There is, therefore, the feeling of peace. The Feeling of Faith. — Both in social and moral relations faith is involved. In moral relations, for example, one says that something must be realized by him which exists not as matter of fact, but as an ideal. The moral ideal is not a mere fact in the world ; it is 340 PSYCHOLOGY. truly an ideal, that which ought to be actual, but is not seen to be so. It is true that morality is not an imagi- nation, it is manifested in living characters in society and the state ; but these get all their moral force be- cause they are felt to be expressions of an ideal. This ideal, therefore, not existing as so much fact, must be apprehended by faith. The moral life is one of faith, for it constantly asserts that the final reality for man is that which cannot be made out actually to exist. The religious life only brings this element to con- scious recognition. It says that that of which alone the individual can be sure as matter of fact, namely, his private self, is unreal, and that the sole reality is the perfect and universal personality, God, who cannot be immediately felt to be. It asserts that this Person- ality is not only ideal, and an ideal which ought to be real, as moral feeling asserts of its object, but that it is perfectly real. Since the entire intellectual, aesthet- ic, and moral life is one of idealization, it is evident that the feeling of faith, which religion insists upon and induces, is the feeling which is implicitly involved in all experience whatever. Religious feeling, or faith, is absolutely universal, universal in its object, and univer- sal as coextensive with all experience. II. Personal Feeling as Spring to Action. — Personal feeling takes the form of interest in persons. It is necessarily directed outwards. It can find its satisfac- tion only in the realization of that in which its interest lies. Considered in this light, personal feeling is love. Love is to persons what admiration is to ideal values, or wonder to the objective universe. It is not a sub- jective sentiment, nor a passive affection. It is active interest. It is not receptive in its nature, but creative. PERSONAL FEELING. 341 It is essentially objective. We may be pleasurably af- fected by individuals, and may, through association, ex- tend the pleasure we experience to these individuals; we may include them within the sphere of our personal enjoyment. But this is not love, although it is one of the means by which love comes into existence. As wonder and admiration are forgetfulness of self in the presence of the universe of objects and ideals, so love is forgetfulness of self in the presence of persons. Love and Hate. — All love is sympathy considered as spring to action, and hate is antipathy. It has been mat- ter of discussion among psychologists whether there is any such feeling as pure hate or malevolence. Some have asserted and others denied that it is possible to assume an utterly hostile attitude towards others, and find pleasure in their loss. In one signification of the term hate, it is necessarily implied in love. As love is interest in the well-being of another for his own sake, it involves hatred for all that hinders this well-being. Since we recognize that well-being is personal and cannot be controlled by non-personal considerations, we recog- nize that these hinderances must be due to the person himself, and in that sense we may be said to hate him. We hate, in other words, all that prevents the realization of our love. The hatred is simply the negative side of love. Since, however, love is necessarily an emotion which finds its satisfaction in persons, hate as a feeling directed towards persons in themselves is a psychologi- cal impossibility. Personality is a universal character- istic, and we could not hate a person in himself without hating our own self. Like and Dislike. — Love, however, has an abnormal form. It is possible that the feeling should not lose 342 PSYCHOLOGY. itself in others, but should become turned inwards, and exist for the satisfaction of one's private self. We may regard others, in other words, only so far as they min- ister to our individual satisfaction. Our feeling tow- ards them may be because they " agree " with us, or are agreeable ; because they produce pleasurable emotions in us. Such affections are " likes " rather than love. Similarly they may affect us disagreeably; they may cause us unpleasant experiences. They may do this by the possession of some quality which constantly re- minds us of our own inferiority, by some quality which irritates us, or by actually injuring us. Such persons we dislike. But such feeling is an egoistic feeling, not a social one, while hate proper, since it is directed only towards that which hinders self-realization, is, in effect, a social feeling. Most of what is ordinarily called hatred is either malice or dislike. Products of Love. — Love, as interest in the well- being of personality, is necessarily creative. Wonder creates science, admiration creates the fine arts ; love creates the various forms of personal relations and in- stitutions : of these, the primary and fundamental is the family, based upon sexual, parental, and filial love. It is the most immediate and intimate form which in- terest in others takes. It is based in the greatest de- gree upon the immediate and direct demands of our nature ; the demands for reproduction, for nourishment, for shelter, for protection. As, however, it is in the family that each personality most fully expresses his own nature, as the relations of persons to each other are there the most intimate, it becomes the fundamental social unit, the primary moral agency, and the ultimate source of religious education. PERSONAL FEELING. 343 Other Forms. — Love, however, cannot be restricted to those with whom we are in immediate natural and physical relations. "Wherever there is a person, there is a possible object of personal interest. Love widens into friendship, which, taken in a comprehensive sense, is the basis of all social relations. Society, as an insti- tution, is but the manifestation, the realization, of per- sonal feeling as a spring to action. Personal feeling can find its goal only in relations to persons, which are permanent and universal ; and all that we call society, state, and humanity are the realization of these perma- nent and universal relations of persons which are based upon active sympathy. Psychologically, the bond of union in society and the state is not law in a legal or judicial sense; much less force. It is love. Law is the expression of the fact that love is not an ill-regulated gush of sentiment nor a personal indulgence, but is the universal and natural manifestation of personality. The force which society employs is the recognition by society that the uni- versal personality is an absolute obligation upon every member of society ; and that only in society can this personality be realized, and that every breach of social relations is a hinderance of the accomplishing by man of his true life. It is the manifestation by society of that hate which is necessarily implied in all love. The highest product of the interest of man in man is the Church. This brings into explicit consciousness the elements involved in all social organization. It re- quires love as the supreme obligation, and it brings to light the relation of this love to the perfect and uni- versal personality, God. III. Feeling as Social Judgment, Conscience. — The 344: PSYCHOLOGY. feeling of Tightness necessarily passes over into the judgment of rightness. We regard the feeling not as something which we subjectively experience, but as an attribute of the act of personality. We do so because we conceive that to be right which agrees with the con- ditions of a complete personality, and such a person- ality we instinctively feel to be universal and objective. The moral judgment is the explicit presence in con- sciousness of the objective factor involved in all per- sonal feeling. The moral judgments, taken together, are referred to a power called conscience. Conscience is not, however, to be conceived as a special faculty of mind. As feeling, it is the emotion of rightness and obligation, together with the consequent remorse or approbation flowing from a feeling of conformity or non-conformity to the obligation. As intellectual, it is the apprehension of the content of these feelings; the apprehension of the quality of moral acts measured by the ideal of personality. Nature of Conscience. — Conscience is, therefore, in- tuitive. It is not such in the sense that it enunciates universal laws and principles, for it lays down no laws. Conscience is a name for the experience of personality that a given act is in harmony or in discord with a truly realized personality. It is the internal side of every personal experience. These experiences are nec- essarily connected with feelings of pleasure and of pain, of approbation and disapprobation. That which is felt to correspond to the perfect ideal of man is felt as har- monious, and calls forth the feeling of moral harmony which we call approbation. Conscience, like the intel- lectual and the aesthetic sense, is capable of develop- ment. To say this, is only to say that man's moral PEKS0NAL FEELING. 345 nature is in process of realization. With every new real- ization of personality comes a higher ideal of what constitutes a true man, and a keener response to rela- tions of harmony and discord. So every degradation of manhood is accompanied by a lowering of the ideal which one can form, a blunted sense of what conforms to it, and approbation of what would otherwise flood the soul with displeasure. Conscience is, indeed, a feeling of the universal and objective worth of per- sonal acts, but in what degree its feelings are true to fact depends upon how universal and objective is the self which feels. Conscience and Ethics. — The moral judgment, like the intellectual and aesthetic, is individual. It is the intuitive expression of the moral nature of the indi- vidual. Reason may, however, investigate the sponta- neous and intuitive declarations of feeling to find the grounds upon which it works, and, having reflectively analyzed these grounds, may formulate them in the laws of conduct, as it formulates the canons of taste, and the rules of logic. It thus attempts to arrive at universal laws of action and permanent qualities of right action. It must not be forgotten, however, that a moral law is an abstraction. The concrete fact is a living personality, and what we call an ethical law is a mode of action which has been separated by reflective analysis from this personality. The moral individual does not live to realize moral law, but to realize him- self, and what are termed moral laws are those modes of action which are observed to be harmoniously re- lated to such realization. While ethics is a legitimate analysis of the moral sense, an attempt to make it render up its hidden meaning, casuistry is an abnormal 15* 346 PSYCHOLOGY. manifestation of it. It is the attempt to formulate rules to decide between right and wrong action in specific cases. It thus attempts to substitute for the uncon- strained freedom of the person external and foreign prescriptions. The heart of the moral life lies in the free personal determination of right and wrong. No set of rules can take the place of this personal deter- mination without destroying the vital spring of morals. Upon social feeling we refer to the following: Sully, "Psychology," pp. 508-518; Murray (op. cit.), pp. 860-377; McCosh (op. cit.), p. 215 if.; Bain, " Emotions and Will," pp. 106-188, 210-227 ; Brown (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 206-253 ; Spencer (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 558-577, 587-626 ; Martineau (op. cit.'), vol. ii., pp. 134-141 ; Laurie, "Ethica," pp. 104-119; Marion, "La Solidarite Morale," pp. 163-205; De Guimps (op. cit.), pp. 444-449; Perez, "L'Educa- tion," pp. 224-264; Nahlowsky (op. cit.), pp. 215-333; Horwicz (op. cit.), vol. ii., pt. 2, pp. 353-466, 479-504; Michelet (op. cit.), pp. 474-485; Ulrici (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 346-356; Fortlage, "Acht psych ologische Vortrage" (essay on "Friendship"); Lazarus, essay on "Friendship," in "Das Leben der Seele;" Schmidt, "Ueber das Mitgefuhl;" Duboc, "Psychologie der Liebe." Re- garding feelings of self, see Murray (op. cit.), pp. 356-360 ; McCosh (op. cit.), pp. 7-42; Bain, "Emotions and Will," pp. 128-144; Stephens, "Science of Ethics," pp. 219-227; Lotze, " Microcosmus," pp. 696-706; Rosenkranz (op. cit.), pp. 143-156; Horwicz (op. cit.), vol. ii., pt. 2, pp. 232-301; Preyer (op. cit.), pp. 392-406 ; Joly, "Notions de Pedagogie," pp. 196-210. Upon moral and religious feeling, see Caird, " Philosophy of Religion," ch. ix.; Martineau (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 19-64; Laurie, "Ethica," pp. 28-37, 59-68, 148-155; Bain, " Emotions and Will," pp. 121-125, 286-322 ; Abercrombie, " Philosophy of Moral Feelings ;" Ulrici (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 356-390 (moral), pp. 418-453 (religious) ; Striimpell (op. cit.), p. 278 ff. ; Nahlowsky (op. cit.), pp. 197-213 ; Horwicz (op. cit.), vol. ii., pt. 2, pp. 302-352, 512-520; Volkmann (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 363-373. For a pessimistic view, see Re'e, "Der Ursprung der moralischen Empfindungen," with which compare Von Hartmann, " Phano- menologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins," pp. 163-322. PART III.— THE WILL. CHAPTER XVII. SENSUOUS IMPULSES. Nature of Will. — Knowledge is the universal aspect of consciousness ; feeling, its individual. These two aspects find their unity in will. Knowledge is that side of consciousness which reports to us something that is ; feeling that side which reports it to we or to thee. Every given consciousness is both knowledge and feel- ing ; it is feeling, for it is mine ; it is knowledge, for it has a content of significance. But a union of feeling and knowledge in one and the same act is what we know generally as will. Will always unites me with some reality, either transforming an element of the me into objective reality, or bringing that objective reality into the sphere of my immediate feeling. It thus con- nects the content of knowledge with the form of feel- ing. Or, again, there is no knowledge without atten- tion ; but attention is simply the activity of will as it connects a universal content with an individual sub- ject. There is also no feeling except as an accompani- ment of some activity. Both knowledge and feeling, therefore, find their basis in will. The Will and Sensuous Impulses. — The will is not purely formal, but has a real content of its own. This is supplied primarily through the sensuous impulses. 34:8 PSYCHOLOGY. These do not of themselves constitute will, any more than sensations constitute knowledge. As the latter consists in relating, connecting, and systematizing sen- sations, in mastering and interpreting them, so will gets its existence in the co-ordination and mutual regulation of the sensuous impulses; in bringing them into har- monious relations with each other through their subor- dination to a common end. We have, for example, impulses which induce us to locomotion ; these im- pulses do not constitute a volition until they are con- nected with one another, and organized into a defi- nite mode of action. The sensuous impulses, in other words, constitute the raw material, the basis of will ; they must be elaborated into the actual forms of voli- tion through a process. We shall take up, therefore, in this chapter, the raw material ; shall then pass on to the processes of development of this material ; and finally consider some of the results, the concrete mani- festations, occasioned by the action of the processes on the sensuous impulses. Sensuous Impulse Defined. — Sensuous impulse may be defined as the felt pressure of a state of consciousness arising from some bodily condition to express itself in producing some physical change. It involves, there- fore, some affection of the physical organism which occasions a state of consciousness; and this state of consciousness is not purely quiescent, but involves in itself, as it were, a surplus of energy which reacts against the external stimulus in some way. For exam- ple, the nervous mechanism of the eye is affected by aetheric vibration; the molecular motion conducted to the brain results there in the state of consciousness which we call the sensation of light. But there is also SENSUOUS IMPULSES. 349 an affection of the self; there is a tendency either to direct the eye towards the light or away from it. The feeling of this tendency or pressure towards or from a physical stimulus is sensuous impulse. The stimulus, of course, may arise from within, as in the case of hunger, where it is a condition of the organism. The sensation of hunger, so far as it gives us information of the state of our body, is the basis of knowledge; so far as it is a pleasurable or painful affection of self, is feeling; so far as it is this feeling plus the ten- dency to react upon it, and satisfy it, by bringing about some objective change, it is impulse. Reflex Action. — A sensuous impulse involves, there- fore, both an internal and external side. It has, as a necessary prerequisite, a state of feeling, an affection which is agreeable or the reverse. But it has, as its necessary outcome, a tendency towards physical ex- pression, an actual change of the body. There must be, accordingly, some mechanism to connect these two sides, to give the internal feeling its external expres- sion. This mechanism is known as reflex action. The nerves of the cerebro-spinal system of the body are either sensory or motor ; that is to say, they either con- duct the stimulus from a sense-organ inwards, or they conduct a stimulus from a central organ to a group of muscles. These sensory and motor nerves have points of meeting in the spinal cord. When a stimulus is transferred from a sensory nerve to a motor without the conscious intervention of the mind, we have reflex action. That is to say, reflex action is the direct and imme- diate deflection of a stimulus having a sense origin into a motor channel. If something suddenly ap- 350 PSYCHOLOGY. proaches the eye, the nerve stimulus is transferred to the spinal cord, and, instead of being thence continued to the brain, and giving rise to a sensation, it is dis- charged into a motor nerve, and the eye is immediate- ly closed. Coughing, chewing, swallowing, etc., are oth- er examples of reflex acts. Keflex action, as such, is a physiological process, but it is of importance here be- cause it forms the physical basis of sensuous impulse. The reflex action, in itself, involves no consciousness, while the sensuous impulse does; but the union of sensory and motor nerves, whether in the spinal cord or brain, affords the mechanism by which any feeling may discharge itself in producing physical change, and thus relieve the pressure. Classes of Impulses. — Strictly speaking, sensuous im- pulses would be confined to those accompanying the immediate feelings which come from our senses, gen- eral and special, but, owing to their great similarity of nature, we shall treat, in connection with them, im- pulses of perception, imitative impulses, ideational im- pulses, and instinctive impulses, considering under the latter head those of expression especially. General Sense Impulses. — Every sensation, as a con- crete fact, is an impulse. In treating sensation under the head of knowledge, w T e spoke of it as if it were a mere state of the mind. That is only one side of it. It is also a reaction against the stimulus; it is a dis- turbance of the equilibrium of the organism, setting free energy which must discharge itself in producing some change. This is seen most plainly in the organic senses, where the senses appear as appetites, or as reg- ularly recurring tendencies to the appropriation of material external to the organism. These demands of SENSUOUS IMPULSES. 351 the sense organs may be constant, as that for air; or periodical, as those for food and drink; or irregular, like the sexual. But in all cases the sensation is not exhausted in itself, but is an impulse outgoing upon some foreign material. It expresses, in other words, the demand of the mind to make something outside of itself part of itself ; in the given cases, part of its physical self. Special Sense Impulses. — This fact is no less true of the special senses. There is a hunger of the sense of touch for bodies ; of the sense of hearing for sounds ; of the sense of sight for light and its colors. The con- tact of the hand with a body is reacted upon with an impulse to ^explore that body, to " feel " it. Every sound is a stimulus to the mind to observe it, to note its qual- ity, its relations, etc. If it is particularly pleasant, the mind acts by an impulse to continue it; if disagreea- ble, to destroy its cause, or to take the body out of its hearing. Were not sensations something more than mere sensations, were they not impulses to action, knowledge would not originate ; for there would be nothing to induce the mind to dwell upon the sensation with the accentuating action of attention ; nothing to direct the mind to its qualities and relations. It fol- lows, as a matter of course, that will would not origi- nate, for there would be nothing to induce the mind to put forth its activities at all, much less anything to in- duce it to put them forth in this direction rather than in that. Impulses of Perception. — The sensuous impulses just spoken of follow directly out of the state of feel- ing, involving no recognition of an object. There are, however, impulses which follow as directly from the 352 PSYCHOLOGY. perception of some object, involving no consciousness of the end of the action, and such we may call impulses of perception. They all come under the general head of impulses to grasp something. There seems to be a connection of some sort between the recognition of an object and a tendency to reach for and grasp it. This tendency is seen very fully developed in infants. The child soon reaches for all objects which come within the range of his vision ; this impulse easily develops it- self into the play impulse. The child grasps for ob- jects, handles them, moves them here and there, throws his arms about, with no end in view except the expres- sion of his own activity. It is the development of the muscular impulse in connection with the recognition of objects, and is of great importance as a stimulus to activity, and as constantly initiating new modes of ac- tivity. Impulses to Imitation. — Growing out of the impulses of perception, and forming a large part of the material of play, are the impulses to imitate or reproduce any perceived movement. This again is especially mani- fest in children, being seen both in their sports and in their relations to their elders, and is one of the most important factors in their education. A child, by pure force of imitation, takes on very largely the artistic and moral coloring of his environment. The force of the imitative impulse is seen very clearly, also, in hyp- notized persons. The tendency to imitate is ordinarily checked by the presence in consciousness of other ideas and ends incompatible with the bare reproduction of something externally perceived ; but when these are excluded from the sphere of consciousness, as they are in persons in a somnambulic condition, whether natu- SENSUOUS IMPULSES. 353 ral or induced, this tendency holds complete sway, and such persons often accurately reproduce every move- ment of the one operating upon them. Ideational Impulses. — Ideas, as well as feelings and perceptions, may be impulses to action. In ordinary life they are so only when harmonized with each other and brought into reference with some end of action, and hence are not impulses truly so called. In abnor- mal cases, however, the ideas seem to be freed from their co-ordination and subordination, and to work freely on their own account. In hypnotized persons, for example, any idea suggested is immediately exe- cuted, as swimming, ascending in a balloon, delivering an oration, etc. Those having to do with those of disordered nature recognize what they call "compulsory ideas" (Zwangs- vorstellungen), where the individual is impelled to the execution either of every idea that occurs to him, or of some one kind of ideas, often finding terrible ex- pression in murder or suicide. In such cases the in- dividual is haunted constantly by a certain idea, and finds no relief except in the performance of the corre- sponding act, and this although he may be suffering under no intellectual delusion whatever regarding the nature of his act. Instinctive Impulses.— In a wide sense all the im- pulses hitherto mentioned are instinctive. An in- stinctive act may be defined as one to which an indi- vidual feels himself impelled without knowing the end to he accomplished, yet with ability to select the proper means for its attainment In a sense more specific, instinctive impulses may be distinguished from the forms of sensuous impulse just discussed. The ground 354: PSYCHOLOGY. of distinction will be the fact that the latter are reac- tive or reproductive only, while instinctive impulses initiate new modes of activity, having results far be- yond their immediate occasion. Such, for example, is the instinctive action of a bird in building its nest. It is not only in response to the immediate stimulus, but it looks forward to a long future course of actions, in rearing the young, etc. Instincts in Man. — A complete discussion of the origin, nature, and function of instinct would take us into the realm of comparative psychology, but we have to recognize the fact that every human being per- forms many acts which are directly fitted to reach an end without knowing what the end is, nor why he uses the means that he does. So far, indeed, as our intellectual, artistic, and moral activity is directed tow- ards an end of which we have not complete conscious- ness, but which we yet succeed in reaching without much experimenting, it may be said that instinct enters into all the psychical life of man. Instincts of Expression. — Under the general head of instinct come those acts by which the infant takes food, by which he learns locomotion, etc. Owing to their typical character and their greater psychological im- portance, we shall treat briefly of the impulses which express feeling and ideas. There is a certain class of physical movements which serve to express internal states, and which do this with no intentional con- sciousness. Such are the cry of pain, the laugh of joy, the trembling of anger or fear, the blush of shame, the stare of astonishment, etc. They are of twofold importance : in the first place, they form the instinc- tive basis upon which individuals are bound together; SENSUOUS IMPULSES. 355 and, in the second place, they form the material out of which are developed the higher and intentional forms of communication. The first use may be illustrated by the cry of the infant, which immediately awakens a response from its mother. The expression not only gives an outlet to the emotion, but occasions certain actions in others. Principles of the Expressive Impulses. — Every im- pulse of expression is a gesture, using the word in the widest sense. Attempts have been made to reduce gestures to classes, and account for them on certain principles, all conventional gestures being, of course, excluded. Mr. Darwin formulated three principles: first, that of serviceable associated habits; second, of antithesis ; third, of direct action of nervous centres. By the latter is meant that when the brain is strongly excited nerve force is generated in excess, and is trans- mitted in certain definite directions. Examples of it are found in change of color of hair from excessive grief, perspiration from great pain, the reddening of the face in rage (from disturbed heart action), etc. The principle of antithesis presupposes the prior action of other principles, and affirms that when a certain emotion expresses itself in a certain way there is a strong involuntary tendency for an opposite emotion to express itself in an opposite direction. Thus, if feelings of fear, depression, etc., are expressed by re- laxation and trembling of the muscles, feelings of strength, elation, etc., will express themselves by con- traction of the muscles and a general expansion of the body. /Serviceable Associated Habits. — The chief principle which Mr. Darwin relies upon is that of serviceable 356 PSYCHOLOGY. associated habits, in connection with the laws of hered- ity. This principle may be stated as follows : certain actions are now, or have been at some time, serviceable to the organism in connection with certain feelings, and have thus become associated with those feelings. Hence, when the feeling recurs, the associated move- ment reappears, whether or not it is serviceable in this particular case, and, indeed, even when it has become wholly useless. The expressions of extreme rage, for example, as the drawing up of the upper lip, the gnash- ing of the teeth, the spasmodic movements of the fin- gers, are relics of a time when these gestures were of use in biting, clutching, etc., that which caused the anger. So expressions of scorn, hatred, etc., are actions which were once associated with an actual attack upon an enemy, or movements which were calculated to in- spire fear or submission in him. Wtindtfs Principles. — Wundt has supplemented these principles by two which he calls those (1) of analogous feelings and (2) of the relations of movement to sense-ideas. By the latter principle is meant that when we speak of persons or objects which are present we point to them ; if absent, in their direction ; that we unconsciously imitate their shape, measure their size, etc., by movements of the hands. The principle of the association of analogous feelings states the law that feelings of a similar emotional tone are easily con- nected, and that when connected the expression of one is transferred to the other. For example, there is a certain expression following the tasting of sweet sub- stances, another of bitter, etc. Now all experiences, however ideal in their nature, which are agreeable pos- sess a tone analogous to that of the sweet taste, and SENSUOUS IMPULSES. 357 hence they naturally express themselves by the same external signs. Such are the principles recognized by the chief authorities, but the matter cannot be regarded as scientifically settled yet. Expressive Impulses and Language. — Those physical changes which express emotions serve as signs to oth- ers of our own state, and thus form the basis of com- munication. By language, however, we mean, in addi- tion, the expression of thoughts, involving also the idea that the expression is with the conscious purpose of sharing our experience with others. But as these signs come under the general definition of gesture, they may be very briefly noticed here. They all come originally under the second principle of Wundt. He recognizes two sorts of signs of this class — the demon- strative, which points towards the object, and the plas- tic, which imitates some of its salient features. These gestures, by a sort of reflex action, are accompanied by sounds which aid in expressing the emotion awakened, and which, by the principle of association of anal- ogous feelings, react upon and strengthen the dumb gestures. Thus the sound becomes in time the sign of the object. The sounds, in short, have certain likenesses in emotional tone to the feelings awakened by objects, and this likeness enables them to sym- bolize the object to the mind. This forms the sen- suous basis of speech. It must be recognized, how- ever, that the sound must be used with the intention of its serving as a sign, must be recognized by others as a sign, and must be adopted by the community be- fore it becomes language proper. And not all author- ities agree with Wundt in his account of the origin of vocal gesture, or speech. This question opens up the 358 PSYCHOLOGY. whole wide field of the psychology of language, into which we cannot go. | , , Upon reflex action and motor impulse, see Ferrier (op. cit.), ch. ii. ; Bain, "Senses and Intellect," pp. 46-53, 262-276; "Emotions and Will," pp. 351- 387; Preyer (op. cit.), pp. 157-215; Volkmann (op. cit.), vol. i., pp. 321-338; vol. ii., pp. 437-451 ; Lotze, " Microcosmus," pp. 254-261 ; Wundt, in Mind, vol. i., p. 161 ff., on " Central Innervation and Consciousness ;" Lazarus, " Ueber die Reize des Spiels ;" and especially for the whole subject of impulse, Schneider, " Der thierische Wille," pp. 95-418. Upon impulses of expression, see Darwin, "Expression of Emotions;" Spencer (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 539-557; Sully, " Sensation and Intuition," pp. 23-37 ; Ferrier (op. cit.), p. 67 ff. ; Wundt, " Phys. Psy." vol. ii., pp. 418-427 ; Michelet (op. cit.), pp. 215-234; Schneider, " Der menschliche Wille," pp. 453-488 ; Rosenkranz (op. cit.), pp. 163-184. Upon instinct, in addition to references in Appendix B, see Spencer (op. cit.), vol. i., pp. 432-443 ; chapter on instinct in Darwin's " Origin of Species ;" Bascom's " Comparative Psychology," pp. 147-178 ; Perez, " First Three Years, 1 ' pp. 44-59; Joly, "LTnstinct;" Preyer (op. cit.), pp. 174-207; Wundt, " Phys. Psy." vol. ii., pp. 327-344; Schneider, " Der thierische Wille," pp. 55- 84 ; George (op. cit.), pp. 169-204. CHAPTER XVIII. DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. Impulses and Volition. — The sensuous impulses form the basis, the material, the sine qua non of voli- tion, but they do not constitute it. Volition is regu- lated, harmonized impulse. It involves a double proc- ess: first, the various impulses must be co-ordinated with each other; secondly, they must all be brought into harmonious relations with an end, must be sub- ordinated to one principle. Volition is impulse con- sciously directed towards the attainment of a recog- nized end which is felt as desirable. Elements of Volition. — A volition or act of will in- volves, therefore, over and above the impulse, knowl- edge and feeling. There must be knowledge of the end of action ; there must be knowledge of the rela- tions of this end to the means by which it is to be at- tained; and this end must awaken a pleasurable or painful feeling in the mind; it must possess an inter- esting quality, or be felt to be in immediate subjective relation to the self. The impulses furnish the moving force by which the end whose quality is recognized, and whose necessity for the happiness of self is felt, is actually brought about. It is the energy which fur- nishes its actual accomplishment, directed along the channels laid down by the intellect for the satisfaction of feeling. Feeling, in other words, determines the position of the lever ; knowledge furnishes the fulcrum 360 PSYCHOLOGY. for its use; the impulse applies the force. Each of these elements is an abstraction arrived at by analysis from the concrete whole — a volition. Development of Volition. — We have, therefore, to study the process by which the concrete forms of voli- tion are built up from the crude material of impulse. The successive steps of the process may be formulated as follows : First, there is awakened the state of mind known as desire / there is then a conflict of desires ; this is concluded by the process of deliberation and choice ; these result in the formation of an end of ac- tion which serves as the purpose or motive of action ; this purpose is then, through the medium of its felt desirabilit}', handed over, as it were, to the realm of the impulses, which realize it. 1. Desire. — We begin with Desire, and shall study its (1) origin, (2) object, and (3) development. (1.) Origin. — Impulse does not constitute desire. Impulse goes straight and blindly at an end, but it does not know this end, nor does it feel that there will be pleasure in reaching it. A bird in building its nest has no thought of the purpose which the nest is to subserve, nor does it feel that any pleasure is to be gained by building it. It builds to satisfy the felt pressure from within. The internal force of feeling constrains it to act in a certain way. When, however, an act has been once or oftener performed through im- pulse, and a certain end is reached which is discovered to be pleasurable or painful, there arises the state of mind known as desire or as aversion. Example. — The child, for example, impelled by a perceptive impulse, grasps for an object. He reaches it, we will say, and it proves soft and pleasure-giving DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. 361 to touch and possibly to the palate. Now, by the laws of apperception, this pleasure and this object are asso- ciated together as parts of one experience. Or, it is felt as rough; perhaps it burns; at all events, it occa- sions pain. This pain and its object are associated. Now this object stands in a certain definite relation to experience, and a relation which is brought, according to the theory of pleasure previously explained (page 286), into intimate and personal relations with the self. The object now has an interest, and becomes a spring to action. This objective interest constitutes desire. Impulse occurs no longer blindly, but with reference to that object which satisfies itself, this satisfaction being made known to us through pleasure. Desire and aversion are impulse plus respectively the idea of an ob- ject which satisfies or thwarts the impulse, as revealed to us by pleasure or pain. (2.) Object of Desire. — It has been held that what we desire is in all cases pleasure, what we are averse to is pain. For example, a child desires an apple. It is said that the true object towards which the desire is directed is the pleasure which comes of eating the ap- ple. If a man desires to resist temptation and tell the truth, his real object of desire is the pleasure which re- sults from the act. But it is evident that this view overlooks two facts. First, the pleasure is a mere ab- straction ; the concrete existence is the object which gives the pleasure. It is quite true that no object would be desired unless it were in that relation to self which we call feeling, that is, pleasure or happiness ; but it is just as true that what is desired is not the pleasure, but the object which affords pleasure. The other fact which is overlooked is that we do not desire 16 362 PSYCHOLOGY. the object because it gives us pleasure ; but that it gives us pleasure because it satisfies the impulse which, in connection with the idea of the object, constitutes the desire. The child desires the apple, for he has the idea of the apple as satisfying his impulse. Only for this reason does he conceive it as pleasure -giving. Pleasure follows after the desire, rather than deter- mines it. And this is not in contradiction to what has been said regarding the origin of desire. Desire is the im- pulse plus the feeling of satisfaction got in its realiza- tion. But impulse is always towards an end, and the satisfaction is because this end has been reached. De- sire merely adds the knowledge or feeling of that line of conduct or of that object in which the impulse will fulfil itself. Desire is the impulse in its known objec- tive connection. The pleasure is one element in it, and an element subordinated to the objective experi- ence. Desire and the Self. — While in a proximate way it is true that the object as satisfying impulse, and there- fore giving pleasure, is the end of desire, in ultimate reference the truth is that a certain conceived state of the self is the object of desire. What the child con- cretely desires is himself in possession of the apple ; what the man desires is himself in conformity with a certain idea of himself — himself as truth-telling. The object which satisfies the impulse is only the means through which the desire is realized. It is desired only because it is felt to be necessary to the satisfac- tion of self. Pleasure, as we have so often seen, is the accompaniment of the activity, or development of the self. It has no existence except as the internal side of DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. 363 this activity. When it is said that the object of desire is pleasure, this can be interpreted to mean only that what is desired is a certain activity or realization of self, which is anticipated as pleasurable, since it is a realization. (3.) Development of Desire. — The development of desire is constituted by the progressive objectification of impulse. As sensation becomes knowledge when it is distinguished, and thus ceases to be a mere state or affection of self, so impulse becomes desire when it ceases to be a mere outgoing towards something which is not consciously presented to the mind, and becomes distinguished from the self as a possible end of action. Desire implies a consciousness which can distinguish between its actual state and a possible future state, and is aware of the means by which this future state can be brought into existence. It involves a perma- nent self which regards itself botli as a present and fut- ure self, and acts with reference to their connection. It involves, in short, a self which can project or objec- tify itself. It not only has impulse, but it knows that it has ; it sets before itself the satisfaction of impulse as the form which action may take. The development of desire will consist, accordingly, in the increasing sep- aration of the impulse as an immediate affection from the self, and its objectification into a possible end of action. The impulse for food develops into the desire for it when the condition of want is recognized and distinguished from the present self; when, in short, it is objectified. System of Desires. — All desires form a system, that is, have an internal connection with each other. There is no such thing as an isolated desire, a desire which 364 PSYCHOLOGY. does not get its quality fixed by its reference to other desires. The self forms a necessary bond of union be- tween them. When desire for food and drink ceases to be a blind impulse, it is put in possible relation to all the acts of the man. The man's desire for food has reference to his desire to live and perform certain acts ; to support his family, to gain a recognized posi- tion, to contribute to society. It is a pure abstraction apart from such reference. Even the desire for intox- icating liquor implies such a reference, unless it is blind impulse. It implies love of companionship, desire to drown sorrow, to escape from pressure of physical irri- tation or of circumstance, etc. The child's desire to eat an orange may be in relation with a desire to obey a command, a desire to put off the pleasure to some other time, a desire to be generous, etc. Just in the degree in which desire is developed, it is brought into relation with a larger and larger sphere of desires. Desire must be as universal as the self is. The devel- opment of desire being through the objectification of self and the recognition in feeling of the distinction between the actual and the unrealized self, it follows that as desire is developed, each desire is brought into wider relations with self, and hence with other desires. The Conflict of Desires. — Because no desire is iso- lated, but each is in potential relation to every other, through its connection with self, it follows that desires may conflict with each other. The desire to work and to support a family may conflict with desire for per- sonal ease or indulgence ; the desire to tell the truth w T ith that to gain some personal advantage or avoid harm ; the desire to eat an orange with the desire to give it away. That is to say, the person may regard DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. 365 himself as satisfied in various modes of action which are incompatible with each other. The self projects itself or imagines itself realized in these various forms; since the actual realization in one, however, precludes that in another, there arises strife. It is important to notice that it is a strife or conflict which goes on in the man himself; it is a conflict of himself with himself ; it is not a conflict of himself with something external to him, nor of one impulse with another impulse, he meanwhile remaining a passive spectator awaiting the conclusion of the struggle. What gives the conflict of desires its whole meaning is that it represents the man at strife with himself. He is the opposing contestants as well as the battle-field. 2. Choice. — The recognition of the conflict of mo- tives leads us to the discussion of the mode in which it is settled — the fact of choice. The conflict arises because the self is capable of feeling itself satisfied in various modes of action or being, only one of which can actually be brought about. The process of choice is that process by which some one of the conflicting desires is first isolated and then identified with the self to the exclusion of others. This process may be longer or shorter, automatic or a painful deliberation. Automatic Choice and Deliberation. — In perhaps the larger number of cases in adult life the conflict is set- tled so directly and immediately that it hardly appears in consciousness. Choice is the identification with self of a certain desire ; when the desire is in accord with the direction in which the self habitually works, this identification takes place almost automatically. For example, a merchant can hardly be said to choose to go to his business in the morning. The desires which con- 366 PSYCHOLOGY. flict with this deed are generally so transient, compared with the fixed routine, that the man instinctively, as we say, goes to his work. In other words, his self has become so organized in one direction through past acts of choice, it has become so stable and set, that it iden- tifies itself with this act at once. If, on the other hand, the question is as to some new venture in trade, there is no such organized self to fall back upon. The de- sire of new gain, the aversion to possible loss, the de- sire to continue in old lines, and to get the better of a competitor, struggle with each other; probabilities upon this side and that must be weighed, and it is only at the end of a process of deliberation that a choice is made, or one line of conduct identified with self. De- liberation is the comparison of desires, their mutual reference to each other; choice is the decision in favor of one. The End of Action or Motive. — A desire when chosen becomes a motive. We often speak of a con- flict of motives, but in strict use this is improper. There is a conflict of desires, but the formation of a motive is the cessation of the conflict by settling the self upon some one motive. A motive is sometimes spoken of as the strongest desire. This may be either false or a mere truism. It is not true if it is meant to imply that the desires carry on a conflict with each other till all but the strongest is exhausted, and this survives by sheer preponderance of force. No such conflict goes on. The conflict of desires is the con- flict of self with self. The conflict of desires ends when the self reconciles or concludes this internal struggle by setting itself in some one direction, by choosing to realize itself in the line laid down by some DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. 367 one desire. This desire is then the strongest, because the whole force of the self is thrown into it. This de- sire, in short, is nothing but the self having formed a definite purpose. It is now a motive or spring to ac- tion ; it is the end of action. The action is only the reaching of this end, the execution of the motive. It gives us no new information to say that the act is de- termined by the motive, for the motive is the act which the self chooses to perform. Motive and Ideal— It is only necessary to notice in addition that the motive to action, the end of action, is always ideal. It makes no difference how apparently material it is. Suppose it be a desire for food. The food, it is true, may already exist ; but it is not the ex- istence which is desired. What is desired is the eating of food, and this does not exist as matter of fact, but only in idea, or ideally. We never choose what ex- ists already as matter of fact for us ; we only choose that which has no objective being for us. Choice, in fact, is the declaration of self that a certain ideal shall be realized. The motive is another word for the ideal. The motive to getting food is the idea of satisfying one's self in the food. Since the object of desire is al- ways the self in a certain state or act, it may be said that choice is the declaration by self that a certain ideal of self shall be realized. Choice and the Intellectual Processes. — It will be seen that the act of choice brings explicitly into con- sciousness what is involved in all intellectual acts. There is possible no knowledge without attention. Attention involves the discrimination of sensations from each other, and the identification of some one group of these sensations with self — in short, an act 368 PSYCHOLOGY. of choice. Furthermore, knowledge, as will, works towards an end, which is ideal, and has to select and arrange means for reaching this end. The process of knowledge is a process of volition. In studying knowl- edge, we simply neglect the process in behalf of the product. Knowledge was finally seen (page 153) to mean the realization of an ideal self; in studying voli- tion we see whence this ideal comes, that it is the ob- jectification of self by self, and whence come the means by which the end is reached, the ideal accomplished. 3. Realization of the Motive. — We have now stud- ied the method by which an impulse, w T hen combined with the idea of a self satisfied through this impulse, gives rise to desire ; and have seen that this desire when identified with the self becomes a motive or end of ac- tion. But this motive is ideal ; it exists only in idea. It is something that should or ought to be, not that ac- tually is. We have now to notice briefly the process by which the end is attained, the motive realized. Dissatisfaction. — The first element involved is the pain which arises from a feeling of the difference be- tween the actual state of self and that ideal state which is the motive to action. The self has identified itself in choice with a certain mode of being or action. Yet this mode with which it feels itself identified is not actual. The self is not that which it has said it is ; it involves a contradiction in itself, and the feeling of this disparity is necessarily one of pain. This feeling of pain, or dissatisfaction with what is, serves as a stimu- lus to go beyond that which is actual and realize the end. No matter how strongly a certain thing is de- sired, and how firmly it has been chosen, unless the contemplation of the choice awakens a feeling of dis- DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. 369 satisfaction with what actually is, no volition will ever result. The ideal will remain existing in idea only. As a representation held before the mind, it has no moving power. It is a motive to action, but not a motor force of action. Action of Impulses. — The pain thus awakened serves as stimulus to cancel the contradiction in the self be- tween its actual and its represented state, and thus to experience real satisfaction. Actually to do this, to realize the chosen end, impulses must be called in. It should not be forgotten that our mode of exposition is necessarily one of abstraction, in which we isolate one factor after another. In isolating the factors of choice, motive, etc., we have neglected that from which we orig- inally started, impulse. We must now return to this, for it is the impulsive character of that which has been desired and chosen that insures its actual realization. The end can be brought about only by surrendering it to the realm of the impulses, which possess the neces- sary outgoing force. More properly, we reach an end by allowing the impulsive force of the desire which was checked during the process of deliberation to ex- press itself through the act of choice. It is always a physical impulse of some sort or other which furnishes the force which realizes the end, thus changing the mo- tive into a deed. Action of Intellect. — But the impulses will not reach the end working blindly. They must be directed along certain channels by the intellect. The mind, in other words, must not only have an end before it, must not only have the sensuous impulse with which to reach this end, but must also have a conception of the means to the end, the paths which the impulse must follow. 16* 370 PSYCHOLOGY. These means, however, are not intrinsically distinct from the end. They are only proximate ends ; they are the end analyzed into its constituent factors. For example, the end of volition is the construction of a house. The means are the plans, the brick and mor- tar, the arrangement of these by the workmen, etc. It is evident that the end is not something intrinsically different from the means ; it is the means taken as a harmoniously manifested whole. The means, on the other hand, are something more than precedents to an end. The first means, the plans, are only the end in its simplest, most immediate form, and the next means are an expansion of this, while the final means are iden- tical with the end. When we look at the act as a real- ized whole, we call it end ; when we look at it in pro- cess of realization, partially made out, we call it means. But the action of the intellect is requisite to analyze the end, the whole, into its means, the component fac- tors. The System of Ends. — It is evident, from what has been said, that ultimately there can be only one end to liuman action. All other ends are proximate ends; absolutely they are means, though also, relatively, ends when looked at in their connection with other acts. The house has its end in sheltering the family, in man- ifesting artistic taste, etc. The sheltering of the fam- ily has still another end, the preservation and develop- ment of life, individual and social. Each end is refer- able to a higher end, which, stated in most general form, is self-realization. All acts are means to self for its own realization ; yet it must be remembered that this self-realization is not a last term over and beyond the means, but is only the organized harmonious sys- DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. 371 tem of the means. It is the means taken in their wholeness. Desire, Choice, and the Self. — We arrive at this same result when we consider the nature of desire and of choice. What is desired is always the self in some act or state. Choice is only the explicit identification of this act or state with the self. The end of every desire and choice, in other words, is the self. The self constitutes the one end of every volition. Yet what is desired is not the self in general ; it is some specific self, the self doing or experiencing this or that. The self, in other words, has a content. It cannot be realized by some one act ; it can be realized only by realizing every pos- sible legitimate desire; that is, every desire whose real- ization does not preclude the realization of some other. We realize the self only by satisfying it in the infinite variety of concrete ways. These are means, because they are partial manifestations ; the self is the end, be- cause it is the organic unity of these various aspects of self-realization. The Goal of Will. — It is evident, therefore, that will can find its goal only in the completely realized self. It can find its goal, in other words, only in itself. Till the will is completely real, that is, until the whole self has become objective and universal, will must have an end towards which it cannot cease striving. It can find its goal only when the actual and the ideal self are at one. Till this point is reached there is a dualism in the self ; always a conflict. The will is in itself uni- versal, and this presence of the universal element must prevent the self resting in any realized attainment. It must form the spring to renewed action. It is the es- sence of the will to objectify or realize itself. It al- 372 PSYCHOLOGY. ways holds up its objective or real self, therefore, as the end of all action, into which the given self must be transformed. Form and Content of Will. — This real self, which the will by its very nature, as self-objectifying, holds before itself, is originally a bare form, an empty ideal without content. We only know that it is, and that it is the real. What it is, what are the various forms which reality assumes, this we do not know. But this empty form is constantly assuming to itself a filling; as realized it gets a content. Through this content we know what the true self is, as well as that it is. It is so in knowledge; it is so in artistic production ; it is so in practical action. A man feels there is truth and the feeling impels him to its discovery. What actually constitutes truth he knows only as he finds it. A man feels there is beauty and is impelled to its creation ; when he has created, the idea of beauty has taken unto itself a definite content. A man feels there is some end advantageous for him or obligatory upon him ; what this is in its fullness he knows only as he grasps it and makes it real for himself. The will, as self-ob- jectifying, is at once the source of the empty form, which is the moving spring to realization, and of the process by which it is reached, and the form and con- tent made one. Stages of Realization. — Ultimately, there is but one end, the self ; all other ends are means. But there are degrees of subordination. In our treatment of will, we shall begin with the lowest group of ends, that which has the element of means in it to the greatest extent, and work upward. We begin, then, with physical vo- lition, control of the body ; go on to prudential voli- DEVELOPMENT OF VOLITION. 373 tion, control of purposes for an end recognized to be advantageous ; and finally treat moral volition, or the control of the will for itself as the absolutely obliga- tory end. It alone is end. Each other group is also means. Spencer (op. cit.), vol. i., pp. 495-506; Sully, " Psychology," pp. 522-593 ; Perez, "First Three Years," pp. 99-109; Maudsley, "Physiology of Mind," ch. vii. ; Drobisch (op. cit.), § 99; Radestock (op. cit.), pp. 49-02; George (op. cit.), pp. 552-571 ; Schneider, " Der menschliche Wille," pp. 260-359 ; Erd- mann (op. cit.), ch. xvii. ; Wundt, in " Philosophische Studien," vol. i., p. 337 ff., on « Zur Lehre vom Willen," and " Phys. Psy." vol. ii., pp. 383-394. Fur disorders of will, see Maudsley, " Body and Will," pt. iii., and Ribot, " Diseases of Will." Particularly upon desire, choice, and moti ve, see Bascom (op. cit.), pp. 300-316; Sully, "Psychology," pp. 626-646; Murray (op. cit.). pp. 398- 405; Bain, "Emotions and Will," pp. 420-498; Brown (op. cit.), vol. iii., pp. 324-473; Volkmann (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 397-437; George (op.cit.), p. 548 ff. , Rosenkranz (op. cit.), pp. 323-330; Ulrici (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 322-345; Dro- bisch (op. cit.), pp. 220-239; Tappan, "The Will," pp. 331-351; Laurie, "Ethica," pp. 37-48; Sidgwick, " Method of Ethics," pp. 34-47; Beneke, "Erziehungslehre," pp. 219-281. CHAPTER XIX. PHYSICAL CONTROL. Problem. — We need, in adult life, only intend a cer- tain movement to have that movement follow. The will to walk is followed by the act of locomotion ; the de- sire of uttering some word leads to just that word being pronounced. We take a pen in hand, and express our thoughts by a series of muscular movements directed to that end. We will to move the head, and do it; or we select the motion of some one finger. The prob- lem which we have to solve is how the idea of a cer- tain movement occasions that exceedingly complex ad- justment of muscles which produces the movement. We have to see how it is that our movements cease to be purely impulsive and become directed to reaching an end which is present in idea to the mind — how they become voluntary. Basis of Solution. — We have, of course, prior to ex- perience no knowledge of the relations of means to the end ; we have no idea of what movements must be per- formed in order to do a given act, say walk. Nor do we, after experience, have any direct knowledge of the relations of means to end. That is to say, all our movements are performed by certain arrangements of muscles, but of these muscles and of the mode in which they act we know nothing. Even if we study anatomy and learn the arrangement and action of our muscular PHYSICAL CONTROL. 375 system, this gives us no aid in performing any definite movement. It does not help us, in playing the piano, to know just what muscles are brought into requisition for the performance of the act. We fix our attention upon the end to be reached, and let the direct means, the muscles, take care of themselves. The basis of so- lution, therefore, cannot be found in any knowledge of the muscular system. It is found, however, in the sen- sations which accompany all muscular action. Nature of Solution. — Every change of every vol- untary muscle is accompanied by a sensation, and this, of course, whether the change occurs impulsively or through conscious volition. The result is that this sen- sation becomes to us a sign or symbol of the movement. The will, it must be remembered, does not have to orig- inate the muscular impulse ; it has only to direct the outgoing force in such a way that it shall subserve a required end. Now the muscular sensations constant- ly report to consciousness the state of the body, and of the muscles which make it up. Prior to experience we do not know what these reports signify ; we do not know, in short, what change corresponds to a given sen- sation. Our experience consists in learning to interpret these sensations; in seeing what acts they stand for. Having learned this, knowing that a certain sensation means a certain movement, we control the movements by controlling the sensations. We learn, in other words, not only the meaning of a sensation, but the connec- tion of the various sensations, and in what order sen- sations must be arranged in order to occasion other sen- sations. Process of Physical Control. — In studying, accord- ingly, the process by which we learn to govern our 376 PSYCHOLOGY. bodily impulses, and direct them to an end, we have to study the process by which we learn how to interpret any muscular sensation, see what movement it stands for; and the process by which we are enabled to con- nect these sensations together, so that a group of sen- sations comes to mean a certain complex act, made up either of simultaneous or of successive movements. We not only learn the meaning of each isolated sensa- tion, but we learn how it must be combined with oth- ers to reach a certain result. The process is similar to that of attention, where we select and combine certain sensations, and neglect others, in order to reach the in- tellectual end we have in view; except that in the present case the sensations are selected and connected with reference to a practical end rather than to an in- tellectual. The end in one case is producing some ex- ternal change ; in the other, some internal change, some new combination of ideas; but the process is identical in each. Psychologically, the end is identical in each, for we know nothing of the muscular change to be effected, but only of the sensations which accompany this change. Mode of Treatment. — "We shall take up, first, the process by which we come to know what act each muscular sensation represents — the process by which muscular sensation becomes definite, and movements specific / and, secondly, the process by which muscular sensation becomes more comprehensive, and movements harmonized with each other — the process by which we connect muscular sensations with each other, either simultaneously or successive!}^. I. The Localization of Motor Impulses. — Originally all motor impulses, except such as are, by instinct or PHYSICAL CONTROL. 377 through heredity, adjusted to some specific though unconscious end, are vague, undefined, and diffused through the whole system. The motor impulse for food is adjusted in the infant to just those acts which are necessary to get food, the act of sucking, and so with some other impulses which we have studied. But the vast majority of muscular impulses have no such definite adjustment. They originally spend themselves in spreading through the whole system, according to their intensity, accomplishing no definite result. There is an impulse to locomotion, but this impulse does not instinctively seek the precise channels which will ac- complish the end. It loses itself in undefined move- ments of the whole body ; so also do the impulses to speak, to write, etc. We have first to study the proc- ess by which the impulse becomes definite or limited to producing a certain number of movements. Process of Experimenting. — This is by a process of experimentation. It may be illustrated by the way in which a child learns to reach for and handle an object. This has its basis, as already explained, in a reflex im- pulse of grasping. The child sees, we will say, a bright- ly colored ball. This awakens in him a purely instinc- tive impulse to grasp it. He may fail, because it is out of his reach. From this failure, however, he learns something. He learns that a certain visual sensation is connected with a distance of an object longer than the reach of his arm. By repeated failure, there is set up a distinct association in his consciousness of certain visual sensations with the muscular feelings due to the movements of his arm and body. He may, however, grasp the object. If so, there is formed an association between this distance and the muscular sensation ac- 378 PSYCHOLOGY. companying the successful movement. This associa- tion becomes solidified by repeated experience. The process of learning to reach the object consists, accord- ingly, in forming the association between the visual sensation, which means distance, and the muscular sen- sation, which means movement. Further Illustration. — Imagine a child learning to talk. Our starting-point here is the reflex impulse to utter sounds ; the problem is to control these impulses in such a way that intelligent articulate speech shall result. The child hears a certain sound applied to ob- jects. His business now is to make some one of his reflex sounds — the raw material which he has in stock — correspond to the sound — reproduce it. His attempts are partial failures, but each of these failures allows him to eliminate certain sounds. His feeling of non-success leads him successively to discard many of them ; while each attempt that is successful forms an association be- tween the auditory sensation which is the sign of an object, and the muscular sensation which is the sign of that movement which occasions this sound. He learns to interpret auditory sensations in terms of muscular, and vice versa. This process of experimentation has three results : 1. It Leaves in Consciousness a Distinct Idea of the End to he Reached. — We must not conceive the problem as if the child has originally a distinct notion in con- sciousness of the end he has to reach, and needs only to learn the means of reaching it. The child has only a very indefinite idea of what constitutes the act of reaching an object or of pronouncing a word before he has actually accomplished it. It is only when he has reached the end that he Jcnows ichat the end is. He be- PHYSICAL CONTROL. 379 gins with a vague consciousness that there is an end to be reached, and the result of his experimentation is that he knows what this end is. His vague impulse has now taken definite form in the distinct idea of some act which he performs. 2. Just in the degree in which the idea of the act becomes definite does the movement "become localized. The original movement is vague and diffuse, like the idea of it. A child in learning to walk moves his whole body. In learning to write the motor impulse is expended through the arm, the head, the mouth, and tongue ; probably more or less through the whole body. Similarly with learning to play the piano. But the re- sult of his experimentation is that the motor impulse becomes differentiated. It does not seek an outlet in- differently through any and every muscle of the body, but is confined to certain channels. The movement, in short, becomes specialized. 3. Less and less Stimulus is Required in Order to Set up the Movement. — This follows directly from the re- striction of the impulse to a definite channel. So long as the force is expended in moving the whole body, a large amount is required, most of which is wasted ; only that being economically used which is actually employed in that one part of the movement which is necessary to the result. "With every localization of movement comes a saving of the stimulus, until, when just the proper channel alone is employed, one hun- dredth of the original force may suffice. The result is that a less violent and more internal stimulus serves to occasion the action. Degrees of Stimulus Required. — The original stimu- lus is, in all probability, the demand of the whole or- 380 PSYCHOLOGY. ganism for food. Nothing less than a disturbance of the equilibrium of the entire organism suffices. In the next stage a sudden and violent affection of one of the senses serves — a sudden pain, a bright light. Then, as the force becomes more and more utilized as it is prop- erly directed, the performance of an act by another per- son occasions enough disturbance to impel us to it. As the process advances it is no longer necessary to have the action presented to us through our sensations as a stim- ulus ; the request or suggestion of another suffices. Then comes the last and final development, when an idea of the action originating from within serves to occasion the act. A stimulus which is wholly ideal is all that is necessary to occasion the discharge of super- fluous nervous force into just its proper channel. The mind has no longer to oversee the whole expenditure of the energy ; it has, as it were, only to open the valve which liberates the force, and by its own self-ex- ecuting mechanism directs it. An idea of the end is stimulus enough to open the valve. II. The Combination of Motor Impulses. — All phys- ical control involves co-ordination and mutual connec- tion of the motor impulses. In order to walk it is not enough that there should be a definite idea of the end, and the localization of each movement necessary. There must also be an idea of the successive and simultaneous steps of the process ; the various movements must be harmonized. This comes about also through a process of experimentation, by which the child learns not only to associate some muscular sensation with a given tact- ual or visual sensation, but also learns to associate vari- ous muscular sensations with each other. Suppose the attempt is to utter a certain sentence. In addition to PHYSICAL C0NTK0L. 381 the process just described, there will be an association of all the muscular sensations accompanying the suc- cessive sounds. In playing the piano there will be also simultaneous associations added. The principles of successive and simultaneous association, in short, are sufficient to account for the various phenomena of the combination of motor impulses. The associated sen- sations become signs of the associated movements. Three effects of this process of association may be no- ticed. 1. The Idea of the Movement to he Performed 'be- comes more Complex. — The infant begins with a very simple and immediate idea. His first voluntary efforts are limited to movements containing very few elements, and the end of which is directly present. The con- sciousness of an end which is remote, and which can be reached only by the systematic regulation of a large number of acts, cannot be formed until the combina- tion of motor impulses lias realized some such end. Then there exists in consciousness the idea of an end comparatively remote in time, and comprehending many minor acts. The man lives in the future, and with the consciousness that his present acts do not ex- haust themselves in themselves, but have reference to this future. Take, for example, the consciousness of one learning a trade. He must put before himself the idea of an accomplishment which cannot be reached for years, and must recognize the subordinate relation which his movements through these years bear to the end willed. The idea in consciousness becomes ever more complex and further projected in time. 2. Along with this goes an extension in the range of movements. The original movements are isolated. 382 PSYCHOLOGY. Each has no meaning beyond itself. With growth of consciousness of a comprehensive end, this isolation ceases. Each is considered only in its reference to others with which it is combined, while* all are subor- dinated to a common end. In an adult of pretty com- plete volitional control, almost all movements, whether of recreation or of business, are connected together through their reference to some unity, some final pur- pose which the man intends. There is involved first a process of inhibition, by which all movements not calculated to reach the end are suppressed ; second, co- ordination, by which the remaining movements are brought into harmonious relations with each other ; and, third, accommodation, by which they are all ad- justed to the end present in consciousness. 3. There is also a Deepening of the Control. — The movements become organized, as it were, into the very structure of the body. The body becomes a tool more and more under command, a mechanism better fit- ted for its end, and also more responsive to the touch. Isolated acts become capacity for action. That which has been laboriously acquired becomes spontaneous func- tion. There result a number of abilities to act in this way or that — abilities to w T alk, to talk, to read, to write, to labor at the trade. Acquisition becomes func- tion ; control becomes skill. These capacities are also tendencies. They constitute not only a machine capa- ble of action in a given way at direction, but an auto- matic machine, which, when consciousness does not put an end before it, acts for itself. It is this deepening of control which constitutes what we call habit. The Nature of the Will. — In studying this process of physical control, we have been studying in a con- PHYSICAL CONTROL. 383 crete way, the nature of the will itself. The will is sometimes spoken of as if it were a force outside of the rest of our nature : sometimes a legislative force, laying down rules for the feelings and impulses ; some- times an executive force, carrying out the decrees of the intellect upon the impulses. Then the will is spoken of as directing the body to do this or that, and there arises the insoluble problem of how a spiritual force like the will can operate upon a material substance like the body. But these views are based upon an in- adequate conception of volition. As we have seen, it is not the will standing outside of the body, which di- rects the body to perform some movement. The per- formance of the action is the existence of the will. The will is the concrete unity of feeling and intellect ; the feeling carries us to a certain result, the intellect takes cognizance of this result, the end, and of the means to it, and now places this as a conscious motive or end in the feelings, and controls them thereby. The whole process is will. The intellectual operation of representing the means and end, and the feeling which impels us to the end, have no separated existence. Illustrations. — Let the process, for example, be that of learning to walk. Where does the will come in ? In the first place, we have the more or less unconscious operation of feeling ; the craving of the muscular sys- tem for exercise, and the tendency of this feeling to impel itself along certain lines and produce locomo- tion. That this is the end in view and how it is to be reached — there is, of course, no knowledge. But the impulses bring about certain actions. By the child's instinct and more especially by the aid of other wills, some of these are seen to be useless, without an end, 384 PSYCHOLOGY. and are inhibited ; others are successful. From those which are successful, the idea of an end is consciously framed by the intellect; there now exists the idea of walking and of the means which constitute it. This end, however, is simply the due localization and com- bination of the various motor impulses by which it is reached. The impulses are now controlled. We may say, if we wish, that they are controlled by the will ; more properly, however, their control, the union of im- pulse and intellect, feeling and end, is the will. The process is the same, if one takes the example of the ac- quisition of a foreign language by an adult, except that the adult does not have to rely so much on the uncon- scious experimentation of his feelings as they work to the end, which they finally hit upon ; for through the greater development of his intellect he appropriates the results of the acquirements of others. Conscious imitation, in short, plays a larger part than unconscious feeling towards an end. The volitional element is the same. It is the co-ordination of impulses for an end recognized by the intellect. Body and Will. — The will is not, therefore, a force outside of the body. The will (so far as physical con- trol is concerned) is the body, so far as this is organ- ized so as to be capable of performing certain spe- cific and complex acts. The will has given itself con- crete existence by constituting the body its mechan- ism, its expression. In other words, the defining and combining of motor impulses so that they bear a har- monious relation to each other is the existence of the will, so far as physical control is concerned. The end is only another name for the harmony. The will is not formal, but has a real content. PHYSICAL CONTROL. 385 Twofold Nature of Will. — The will, therefore, gets concrete existence only so far as the soul, through its experimentation with the motor impulses, reaches an end, which is the intelligent, harmonious relation of these impulses. But why do the feelings tend to pro- ject themselves towards an end ? Why does the self experiment with the feelings? Why does it inhibit or reject some as useless ? Why does it employ others ? The answer to these latter questions is because it feels pain in the one and satisfaction in the other. But why should it? These questions lead us to recognize that the soul through its impulses is already feeling towards an end, and that it is guided constantly by the feeling which its acts bear to this end as shown by the ac- companying satisfaction and dissatisfaction. What the actual reaching of this end does, is to make the will articulate, body it forth in definite shape. We must recognize, therefore, that the will has a twofold nature. On the one hand, it sets up (originally, no doubt, in the form of feeling) an end, and guides the impulses towards this end ; as such it is the source, the spring to all realization of self. On the other hand, will is the actual reaching of this end ; it is the definite harmonizing of the impulses. As such it is realized self. In the latter form only is the will a definite, con- crete existence. Yet the unconscious projection of the self in the form of impulses, and the sequent experi- mentation with them till they are harmonized, are the sources of this definite realization of will. Will is the cause of itself, in other words. The process of our actual life is simply that by which will gives itself definite manifestation, bodies itself forth in objective form. Just what will is, we can tell only so far as it 17 386 PSYCHOLOGY. has thus realized itself ; but will is never exhausted in any such realization, and its continued action in the form of impulse towards an end as yet not formulated is the source of all change, all growth in psychical life. Dependence of Will. — In addition, it needs to be noted that the possibility of physical control depends upon the connection of the individual will with other wills. In its lower forms, as locomotion, it is depend- ent upon these other wills for guidance, encourage- ment, and approval, as well as largely for models of imitation. Were the infant left to himself, it is safe to say that either he would never accomplish the act, or that it would take a much longer time, and be very clumsily done. In the higher forms, as talking, writ- ing, etc., there is not only dependence of the foregoing kind, but of the material also, for the content of the will is due to other wills. In learning to speak, the individ- ual merely appropriates the product of the wills of the community in which he lives. In learning to walk, indeed, he does not create. He merel} r reproduces by his will, under the direction of the wills of others, cer- tain physical relations. In learning to speak, he re- produces under the direction of other wills, and repro- duces that which owes its existence to these wills ; he reproduces social relations through physical processes. Carpenter (op. cit.), pp. 209-218, 279-315, 876-386, and in Contemporary Review, vol. xvii., p. 192 ff. ; Caldenvood (op. cit.'), ch. v. ; Lotze, " Elements of Psychology," pp. 83-91 ; Lazarus (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 59-71 ; Ulrici (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 301-321; Schneider, "Der menschliche Wille," pp. 407-452; Steinthal (op. cit.), pp. 263-289 ; Hoppe, " Das Auswendiglernen." CHAPTER XX. PRUDENTIAL CONTROL. Relation to Physical. — Physical control forms in a twofold way the basis of the higher developments of will. In the first place, the body is the mechanism by which all changes in the world must be brought about. Thinking involves the use of speech and the control of the brain ; moral purpose involves in its execution movements, etc. Physical control is a necessary pre- condition of all more developed forms. But it also develops the same factors of will which are involved in the complex modes of control. Regulation of mo- tor impulses so that they conform to an end involves the choice of an end, the apt selection of means, fixed resolution, and determined adherence to a course of action. All the elements constituting will are thus brought into play. Prudential Control. — It is distinguished from phys- ical by the fact that the co-ordination and regulation of movements is now only a means, not an end in it- self. It includes all actions in which the impulses are directed towards an end which is regarded as advanta- geous, or away from an end which is considered harm- fid. The word "prudential" therefore, is used in a very wide sense to express all actions dictated by mo- tives of anticipated gain or loss. It is further distin- guished from physical control by the fact that the latter is not directed by any conscious representation 388 PSYCHOLOGY. of future benefit, but rather by instinctive feeling; and from moral control by the fact that the latter oc- curs to fulfil obligation, not to reap advantage. The same act may illustrate each kind of control. A child, for example, learning a foreign language does not do it with any motive of the advantages that are to ac- crue to him from it ; a youth may set about learning the language because he sees it is necessary to his busi- ness success ; furthermore, if the business success is necessary in order that he may support a dependent mother, the act becomes also moral. Analysis of Prudential Act. — The various factors of an act of the prudential class may be shown from the example just given. The first element is the crea- tion and development of the desire, of the want. There must be produced the conscious want of succeeding in business. This is something over and above any sen- suous impulse; it arises only when the sensuous im- pulses are associated with wider ranges of experience. We have to study, first, the process by which the de- sires for whose satisfaction prudential action occurs are developed. This desire is then constituted an end or motive of action, and those means are selected which are best fitted to reach the end. It involves, second- ly, the development of intelligent selection and adap- tation of means to result; which will vary, thirdly, ac- cording as this end is purely practical, is intellectual, or is emotional. I. Development of Desires. — As already said, sensu- ous impulse, as for food, does not constitute the desire for food. Desire involves at least three additional ele- ments. In the first place, there must have been expe- rience of something which satisfied the impulse. The PBUDENTIAL C0NTK0L. 389 impulse must have become associated with the act in which it resulted, and also of the pleasure which accompanied this act. In the second place, there must be explicit recognition of the fact that the impulse is not at the present time satisfied. There must be rec- ognition of lack. The individual must feel that the act, with its pleasure, which was his once is not his now. And, in the third place, there must be conscious recognition that this experience which formerly satis- fied the impulse will do so again. Desire implies rec- ognition of present non-satisfaction; remembrance of jpast satisfaction, and anticipation of future satisfac- tion through a similar experience. The development of desire will be, of course, merely the process by which these three elements are brought into existence. Illustration. — It follows that every new experience may result in the creation of a desire. Every expe- rience may bring about such measure of self-satisfac- tion as will cause that experience, when it is re-presented in consciousness and compared with the present expe- rience, to be an object desired. For example, a child performs some act, say, doing an errand, which is re- warded with money. Money is now an object of de- sire. It constitutes a possible motive of action, as it could not do before experience of it. With this money he purchases, perhaps, toys, which give him new satis- faction, and form a new object of desire. These toys lie may share with his playmates, and thus gain their approbation, which in turn affords a new source of de- sire. To this process there is no conceivable end. It is also evident that the process of development widens desires and renders them definite. The range of things wanted is constantly enlarged ; the idea of that which 390 PSYCHOLOGY. is wanted, that which will satisfy need, becomes more precise and accurate. Imagination and Desire. — With the development of imagination, especially of constructive imagination as opposed to reproductive, desire somewhat changes its character. All desire, as requiring anticipation of a future state, involves imagination. With growth of imagination desire gets to be more comprehensive and more distinct. As imagination becomes plastic, shap- ing old material into new forms, desire is no longer limited to experiences precisely similar to those already experienced. Imagination creates ideals towards which desire projects itself. It constructs conceptions of honor, of wealth, of fame, which are no less real for desire than the experiences of every-day life. Imagination not only extends desire to ideal embod- iments, but it determines largely the channels which desire shall follow. Every imagination of anything is the idea of it as real, and is, in so far, desire. There is no surer way of strengthening desire than allowing the imagination to dwell upon some conception. The idea of a thing is the projection of the mind towards it. So the objects, the kinds of objects, upon which imagination dwells decide what desires, what class of desires, are of most importance for an individual. A merchant's desires are not as an artist's ; a scholar's not like an artisan's ; and the difference of the desires is largely due to the fact that the habitual mental areas upon which the mind dwells are so different. The close relation between desire and imagination is nowhere better illustrated than in the artist. Here this imagination, the ideal bodying forth of beautiful objects, becomes a desire so strong for the actual exist- PRUDENTIAL CCXNTEOL. 391 ence of these objects that one is instinctively led to create them. The relation exists no less in the mer- cantile and practical spheres. The man who lets his thoughts run constantly on money and the advantages to be gained from it is the man of strongest desire for it. So far is it from being true that the man of imagi- nation and the man of action are opposed that it should rather be said that only the man of vivid and close imagination can be a man of action. Dreamy action is the result of dreamy, that is, vague and scattering, imagination. II. Choice of Ends and Means. — With every exten- sion of experience and every new development of im- agination there arises, therefore, a growth of desire in distinctness and in range of comprehensiveness. All objects and all ideals become saturated with that close connection with the experiences of the self that con- stitutes them desirable. As such they come into con- stant contact and conflict with each other. There are all degrees of relationship existing between them. Some are directly in line with each other and mutually strengthen each other, as, say, desire for wealth and for social recognition. Others, though not opposed in themselves, may necessitate choice of opposed means, as desire for increase of learning and for social enjoy- ment. Others may be directly incompatible with each other, as desires for the approval of others and for per- sonal self-indulgence. This conflict of ends and means requires that some one be chosen and the conflict ended. Grounds of Choice. — The nature of choice we have studied previously. It is the selection of some one desire, its identification with self, and consequent ob- 392 PSYCHOLOGY. jectification as an end of action. The chosen desire becomes the motive. We have now only to study the grounds of choice. Why is one desire selected and decided upon as an end of action while another is re- jected? The desire which is chosen becomes the mo- tive, but what is the motive to choice ? In prudential action the general answer is, that desire is chosen whose satisfaction is conceived to result in the most advantage. Of all possible ends that is made the ac- tual end whose realization affords the most benefit. Superior advantage of result is the motive in all pru- dential action. But what are the factors which decide what will be regarded as most advantageous, and hence be made the motive? 1. Choice Depends on Individual Characteristics. — That which appears of most worth to one will not to another. The factors which are, for the individual, accidental will decide largely where choice falls. The hereditary influences, the early home life, the circum- stances of education and of surroundings all enter in to fix what one considers to be of the higher advan- tage to himself. A savage's idea of what is most desi- rable differs from that of the civilized man, and that of the ancient Greek from that of the modern Briton. Every choice which renders a desire a motive reflects also the past experience of the person. He will not be apt to choose that which has not been in intimate connection with his former doings. The channels along which he has habitually directed his imagination, the fancies he has indulged in, will also be determining factors. 2. Choice Depends upon Knowledge. — But supposing that the individuals who choose are alike in other re- PRUDENTIAL CONTROL. 393 spects, their choice of an end will depend upon their knowledge. Just in proportion as one's knowledge in a given direction is comprehensive and definite will he be able to tell which of many possible ends is the most advantageous. One may choose, for example, to engage in a certain business as the best of many al- ternatives, and this may turn out about the most harm- ful, because of influences which his limitation of knowl- edge would not allow him to take into account — the character of his business associates, a financial crisis, perils by fire and water, etc. To sum up, we may say, the person makes that an end which he regards as pro- ductive of most advantage; what he regards as most advantageous depends upon the accidents of his birth, surroundings, and past experiences, and upon the ex- tent of his knowledge in enabling him to determine that whose selection will prove of greatest profit. Choice of Means. — Along with the choice of end goes the choice of means to reach the end. In a gen- eral way it may be said that the choice of the end is the choice of means. In choosing an end one must choose whatever is necessary to it. But many differ- ent ways of accomplishing the one end may present themselves, out of which some one must be selected. Aside from personal idiosyncracy, the essential factor in deciding is the range of knowledge. The means at hand will be compared by the intellect; the mind will calculate so far as it may the consequences of choice in either direction, will weigh the resulting ad- vantages and disadvantages of each, and then strike the balance in favor of the side upon which most ad- vantage lies, so far as knowledge will allow it to be calculated. 17* 394 PSYCHOLOGY. III. Forms of Prudential Control. — These are three, practical, intellectual, and emotional. 1. Practical. — This includes all actions which are externally directed with a view to reaching some ad- vantage. It involves, in the first place, the checking or inhibition of some action. A child, for example, sees some sweetmeats, and is impelled to eat them by the idea of the satisfaction they will give him. There then occurs another thought — the representation of his mother's displeasure or of possible sickness. These originate an aversion to the sweetmeats, and an action away from them. This conflict will result in the checking of one or the other of the actions. The fact that all volitional action implies some degree of possi- ble conflict shows that the first step in control is inhi- bition. The next is postponement. That is to sa}^, the child acts with reference to more remote ends. He undergoes some present painful operation in consider- ation of some future good, the recovery of health. Or he abstains from present pleasurable indulgence, think- ing of some future pain. Or he goes through some operation, in itself perhaps a matter neither of desire nor of aversion, because he sees it to be a necessary condition of something that is desired. Postponement becomes connection of acts. As inhibition leads him to refer one present act to another and consider them in their relations to each other, so the postponement of action leads him to connect his acts serially, and make successive acts mutually tributary to each other. Enlargement of Scope. — The third and final step is that the actions occur with reference, not only to more remote ends, but to more inclusive ones. The child acts with reference to health as a comprehensive, per- PRUDENTIAL CONTROL. 395 manent end. He so acts with reference to the ap- proval of others, to the attainment of a mastery of some trade, etc. Then he may form a most compre- hensive end, say happiness, which shall include all these, and act with reference to that. So far as he does thus act with reference to some one comprehen- sive end, he has himself in perfect prudential, practi- cal self-control, for this comprehensive end will lead him to inhibit all acts which are not in accordance with it, and to connect all successive acts so as to lead up to it. Results. — As the results of this increasing control, action becomes more reasoned or deliberate ; evincing more pertinacity or perseverance ', and being more reso- lute or determined. The deliberateness of an act is opposed to its impulsiveness. If we bring reason* to bear upon an impulse, the result is that we do not act immediately, but from the consequences which rea- son shows as likely to flow from the act. Early im- pulses are also easily turned aside. The occurrence of some other impulse leads the child to forget the act upon which he is engaged, and diverts his energies into the new channel. The setting-up of a more re- mote end towards which all mediate acts must be or- ganized, changes this. "Will becomes persevering. It recognizes that action must persist in one choice to ac- complish anything. Uniting the qualities of delibera- tion and perseverance, together with a firm grasp upon the end of action, is resolute will. A child may perse- vere to the attainment of some chosen end, but his will cannot be called determined or resolute unless he is conscious of what the end is, how it is related to other ends, and has consciously subordinated them to it ; un- 396 PSYCHOLOGY. less, in short, he has formed an end which is compre- hensive. A firm or controlled will is deliberate in making its choice, tenacious to this choice, and resolute in making use of whatever means will realize it. . 2. Intellectual Control. — To go exhaustively into the subject of intellectual control would be simply to re- peat what has already been said concerning attention. This, indeed, has been defined as inner will. The study of its mode of action is merely the study of the way in which the mind masters and controls its thoughts, di- recting them to some end. It may be recalled here that attention involves an inhibiting activity. In giv- ing attention even to the least complex presentation the attracting force of all other presentations must be disregarded. The positive development of intellectual control, on the other hand, is seen in increased ability to fix the mind upon some one subject — concentration — and in the ability to pursue longer and longer courses of subordinate mental processes, all leading up to a final goal. In memory we manifest intellectual control in the process of recollection, where we fixate attention upon some element and thereby greatly increase its power to redintegrate what we are seeking for. Think- ing is an example, on a large scale, of intellectual con- trol; for here we consciously adjust our conceptions with a view of bringing about a certain mental re- sult. 3. Emotional Control. — Here, as in the other forms, the first step is a negative one, to restrain the feeling. This is chiefly brought about indirectly by the control of the muscular system. In studying the sensuous im- pulses, we saw that emotions tend to manifest them- selves in movements. It follows that if we can control PEUDENTIAL CONTROL. 397 these movements, by the process studied in the last chapter, we also control the emotions. In controlling feelings like anger, for example, the first thing to be done is to repress its outward manifestation. But this may simply turn the feeling into another channel. If it is repressed from any external motive, it is almost sure to do so. In this case anger turns into sullen brooding or a desire for re ventre. It is evident that there must be some further method of checking feel- ing. This is again indirect through control of our thoughts. That is to say, if anger is the feeling to be inhibited, the thoughts must be kept away from the person who has inflicted the injury and from the injury itself, and directed towards any benefits that may have been derived from the person, or towards any subject that will arouse pleasurable feeling. This suggests the most efficient method of repressing any feeling, name- ly, calling up an opposed emotion which will expel it. In general, it may be said that it is not the way to get rid of a feeling to destroy it, leaving a vacuum. This is impossible. It can be done only by introducing a stronger opposed feeling. Positive Control. — Many psychologists have treated the subject of control of feeling as if it were exhaust- ed when it is shown how feeling is repressed. But this is a one-sided view. Feeling is a normal factor of our psychical life, and involves, therefore, as much as any other factor, regulated development towards a certain end. The inhibition of feeling is not an end in itself, but merely a necessary means in order that the feel- ings which are not inhibited may be duly developed. Anger is repressed only that benevolence or some oth- er emotion may express itself. Were feeling really 398 PSYCHOLOGY. suppressed, all action would be suppressed also, for do desire, no motive to act, would remain. The positive control of feeling consists in so direct- ing it that it becomes a stimulus to knowledge or to action. The emotion of indignation, for example, is controlled, not when it is obliterated, but when it is so directed that it does not expend itself in vague or vio- lent reaction, but quickens thought and spurs to action. Many of the world's greatest orations, as well as deeds of valor, are so many illustrations of controlled indig- nation. Feeling that merely expresses itself is uncon- trolled; feeling that subserves the intellect or the will is controlled. Feeling does not cease to be feeling in becoming thus subservient ; on the contrary, it becomes more susceptible, readier, and deeper. Martineau (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 65-74 ; Bain, " Emotions and Will," pp. 399- 419; Carpenter (op. cit.'), pp. 386^428; George (pp. cit."), p. 576 ff. ; Volkmann (op. cit.), vol. ii., pp. 463-489. CHAPTER XXI. MORAL CONTROL. Relation to Prudential. — Prudential action is not in itself moral action, yet there is no prudential action which is not potentially in the ethical sphere, and hence either moral or immoral. Actions may be di- rected, for example, so as to preserve health, and carry on a business which it is supposed will lead to wealth. So far they are only prudential. But as soon as the preservation of health is seen to be a duty (and so, in many cases, with the securing of a certain compe- tency), the acts become moral action. Or if the se- curing wealth will necessitate the non-securing of some other end, which is recognized to be higher, or will necessitate certain means, as dishonesty or lying, the act becomes immoral. The terms " prudential " and " moral " do not refer, therefore, to two kinds of acts, for the same act may be either or both. What is the distinction ? Distinction of Moral from Prudential. — In brief, the difference is that a prudential act is measured by the result; the moral, by the motive. A man may in- tend, for example, to gain a certain advantage for him- self by embarking in a certain line of action, but his knowledge is limited. .New circumstances occur, and his purpose is thwarted. The action turns out to be a disadvantageous or imprudent one. But if a man in- 400 PSYCHOLOGY. tends a moral action the result cannot be immoral, however unforeseen or deplorable it may be. On the other hand, an act which appears rash at the time ma} T , by lucky and opportune happenings, result in gain. But an act whose purpose is immoral cannot result in morality, no matter how beneficial to any one it may be. If a surgeon intends to save a man's life, and per- forms an act with that motive solely, and the result is the man's death, the result is deplorable, but it is not wrong. If a man intends to kill another, but, failing, unwittingly does the man a great benefit, the result is a desirable one, but the action is immoral. Actions, in short, that are judged from their motives alone are acts lying in the mo?'al sphere. Analysis of Moral Action. — Why do we make this distinction ? Why do some acts get their character es- tablished by their results, and others by their motives? This question is an ethical question, if we inquire into the ultimate ground of the distinction ; it is a psycho- logical question when w T e ask through what conditions it originates as a fact in psychical life. It is a psychi- cal fact that we do judge some acts by their motives and others by their results, and this difference must have its origin in some psychical processes. We have only to inquire what, as matter of fact, these processes are. This brings us to the analysis of a moral action, to see what constitutes it. Responsibility. — Before answering directly the ques- tion why we estimate the quality of some acts by their results and that of others by their intention, we must recognize a further difference between prudential and moral acts. The doer recognizes his personal responsi- bility for the act in the latter case, while in the former MORAL CONTROL. 401 he does not. The person may regret the result of a course of action undertaken to derive some benefit, if it turns out hurtfully, or if the disadvantages outweigh the accruing gains, but he does not blame himself for this result. This gives us the added fact that an indi- vidual does not hold himself responsible for the result of his actions, but only for their motives. When the result is the direct outcome of the motive, responsibil- ity is extended, of course, to the former. Basis of Distinction. — It is easy to see why a man does not hold himself responsible for the result of an action, except so far as that result is the legitimate ef- fect of his motive in action. It is because the result is beyond his control. The commencement of the action may lie with him ; its issue does not. The final out- come is determined by a multitude of causes of which the one acting can foresee only a few. It is impossi- ble, in originating an action, to tell how many forces, hitherto unnoticed, may be set in motion ; it is impos- sible to tell how many forces independently set in op- eration by others may cross the workings of these forces, sometimes reinforcing them, sometimes nullify- ing them. Or, as was said before, the ground of de- cision in prudential action is the surroundings and knowledge of the one deciding. Whether the result is reached or not depends upon the extent and limita- tions of these decisive factors. For these limitations one does not hold himself responsible, and, because he does not, he does not hold himself responsible for the result. Actions in the Moral Sphere.— On the other hand, if some acts are judged by their motives, and if the ac- tor holds himself responsible for these motives, it fol- lows that he must regard these motives as within his 402 PSYCHOLOGY. control. For example, the surgeon, taking measures to perforin an operation, which finally results fatally, judges his act to be unsuccessful from the prudential point of view, but not to be immoral. He did the best he knew how. The issue lies with forces of nat- ure. Suppose, however, that from a motive of indiffer- ence, of love of ease, or of love of speedy fame, he has not gained some information which he might have acquired regarding the state of his patient, and which would have induced him to act otherwise. In such a case he blames himself for the rdsult, that is, he judges it from the moral point of view. He estimates his act from the quality of its motive, and he does so because he recognizes that, while he does not make the result, he does make the motive. Moral Action and Personality. — The fact that we estimate the quality of some acts as successful or non- successful according to their outcome, while we esti- mate that of others as moral or immoral according to their motive, is, therefore, due to the fact that the lat- ter are determined by personality alone, while the former are determined by some accident or contin- gency, as it were, of personality. Some actions affect the man, what he is in himself; others affect the cir- cumstances of the man, what he has about him. A man's wealth, his health, his knowledge, his general prosperity are not himself; they are what the man has or would have. A man's will is himself. Every act that arises from will or personality, but has its result in something external to that will, something which the will has, is a prudential act. Every act that both arises from and affects the will, the being of a man, is in the moral sphere. MOEAL CONTROL. 403 The wealth a man possesses, the esteem in which he is held, the degree of bodily well-being which charac- terizes him, are circumstances of the man ; they are not the man. All acts which aim at these external circumstances are estimated by the extent to which they realize these circumstances ; by their results. Where a man wills to tell the truth he wills to he some- thing; and even if what he says is false by reason of the limitation of his knowledge, he is still true. The fact about which he makes his statement is external, and his knowledge of it is decided by facts external to him. His motive to tell the truth is internal to him, and is de- cided by himself, and cannot be changed by the contin- gency of the result. If his motive is truth, he cannot be false, no matter how false the actual result may be. Prudential Actions oecome Moral. — None the less actions directed towards the attainment of wealth, of health, of knowledge, of esteem, etc., are, as matter of fact, in the moral sphere, and form, indeed, the content of most moral actions. How can we reconcile this statement with the one previously made (that they are external to personality, circumstances of it) ? The rec- onciliation lies in the fact that while health, knowl- edge, etc., do not in themselves constitute personality, or will, they may be necessary conditions of its real- ization. A man cannot be the person he otherwise would be, if he is ignorant, sickly, and so poor as not to be able properly to support his family. So far as these circumstances are necessary to the realization of personality, they become themselves moral ends, and constitute acts which are judged by their motives. Taken by themselves, or in abstraction from the reali- zation of personality, they are not such ; taken as ends 4:04 PSYCHOLOGY. in opposition to the realization of personality they be- come immoral. Summary. — It is evident from what has been said that moral action only brings into explicit consciousness that which is virtually contained in prudential action. All prudential action must have its end ultimately in its effect upon the person willing; health, knowledge, etc., cannot be ultimate ends. They are ends only he- cause in them the personality reaches its end and be- comes itself. When w T e treat them as if they were ends in themselves, we are simply neglecting or ab- stracting from their effect on the will itself. "When we complete our account by taking this into considera- tion, we are in the realm of moral action. When we do take personality into account we judge the act from its motive ; for while the result is external to the per- sonal^, the motive is internal to it and reveals what the personality is and would be. The actual will to he something, not the mere desire or longing for it, but the resolute choice to be it, con- stitute the being it. The will to have it does not con- stitute the having it. A man who wills to be good will be good. A man who wills to be learned, to be a statesman, etc., is not necessarily such, because, after all, these are circumstances wdiich he may have, not the personality which he is. The man also holds himself responsible for the moral action, because his personality constitutes the motive; it is not constituted by any- thing external to him. The recognition of personality as constituting the essence of moral action enables us, therefore, to account for its two distinguishing features — that it is measured by its motive, and that responsi- bility for it is recognized. MORAL CONTROL. 405 Treatment of Subject. — Having analyzed moral ac- tion, wo Lave now to consider (1) the process of the development of ethical desires, whether moral or im- moral ; (2) the nature of ethical choice; (3) the result of moral control, formation of character, etc. The cau- tion already mentioned must be kept in mind ; though we are dealing with ethical material, we are dealing with it only as a matter of psychological experience. I. Development of Ethical Desires. — Ethical desires, whether moral or immoral, arise when any action is to be performed whose result is seen to affect personality itself, and not any of its possessions or circumstances. As matter of historic development, they probably con- sciously arise in the conflict between having something and being something. The child, for example, has been told not to touch some sweetmeats, and is very desir- ous of eating them. Now the desire of eating them is not in itself, of course, immoral, but it conflicts with the desire to be in harmony with his mother's wishes and the worthy recipient of her love. The child does not reason the matter out, but he feels that if he yields to his desire he will have come short of that which he should be. This consciousness of coming short of his own true being is, without doubt, a reflex one and not a direct one ; that is to say, he feels himself measured by a standard of himself which his mother holds up, and not by a standard which he consciously holds be- fore himself ; but the psychological essence of the act remains unchanged. He feels that the desire is im- moral, because its gratification will lead to a lowering of himself. He will have more immediate pleasure, but he will be less. The desire to obey he feels to be moral, for the opposite reason. 406 PSYCHOLOGY. Extension of Desire in the Ethical Sphere. — The process roughly sketched here constantly widens the range of feelings and desires which are felt to have moral bearings. At the beginning, in many, perhaps all cases, the child feels the ethical bearing only of such acts as are directly commanded or are forbidden ; acts which are accompanied also by pleasures and pains as their rewards and penalties. Only such acts are seen to have any relation to his own personal worth. But as his experiences widen and his feelings come in con- tact with more objects his desires increase, and more and more of these desires are seen to have direct bear- ing upon the inner core of his own being, as distinct from the circumstances of his life. The widening ex- tends also in another direction. Not only does he rec- ognize that each desire has, if realized, some connec- tion with himself, but he recognizes also that each will is a personality as much as himself. He sees that while he may have more or less than other persons, he can be a person or will no more and no less than they. The claims of their personality are ecpal to the claims of his. This gradually extends his desires to include the welfare of those in the same family with him. No end can be set to the process in either direction. There is no desire which does not have a possible bearing upon the realization of himself ) there is no person who does not have a possible relation to him which may become the source of a desire for the realization of that per- sonality. Of course, the desire may tend the other way ; it may be towards such a gratification of himself as shall thwart his own realization or that of some other person. Conflict of Desires.— The same processes that origi- MORAL CONTROL. 407 nate desires bring them into opposition with each other. The difference between the conflict of desires in the ethical and in the prudential sphere is, that since in the latter acts are judged by their results, desires range themselves along a scale, and the question is simply concerning which desire to gratify in order to get the most advantage ; in the ethical sphere, since actions are judged by their motives, the conflict is between two desires, which represent not a possible more or less, but an actual opposition. The conflict is between desires for qualitatively opposed ends. In other words, the con- flict is always between desire for an end which is felt to be good, and desire for an end which is felt to be wrong. The desire, as said before, is not wrong in it- self, but its satisfaction is felt to be wrong, because it is incompatible with the realization of the good. In ethical matters the lesser good is felt to be the bad. II. Ethical Choice. — This conflict of desires is set- tled, as are all similar conflicts, by the act of choice or decision, which is that identification by self of itself with one of the desires which renders it the motive to action. The act of choice selects some desire, and says that that one shall be realized. The object of any desire is ideal, for it has no existence as yet ; choice changes the mere longing for its reality into the as- sertion that it shall be made real. Choice is practical judgment. Judgment (page 214) asserts that some reality is possessed of some ideal quality, or that some ideal quality is real. Choice asserts that this ideal quality shall be real. Judgment as theoretical is about things as they are ; judgment as practical is about things as the self will have them to be. Grounds of Choice. — Any desire becomes a motive 408 PSYCHOLOGY. because it is chosen. Why is it chosen ? Why does the self reject one desire which is competing for its identification with self and select another? To an- swer this question we must distinguish between the content and the form of what is chosen. In prudential choice the form is identical in all acts ; for it is the ad- vantage to be gained by that act. The content is the specific advantage sought for — health, public reputa- tion, place. And the ground of choice is, that con- tent is chosen which seems to the chooser to corre- spond most closely with the form under which it is subsumed — advantage. In moral actions, on the oth- er hand, there are two forms, not one, possible, and the choice is primarily not about the content to be included under the form, but about the form itself. The form is good or bad. The question which con- tent shall be willed, whether truth, temperance, cour- age, patience, purity — which, in short, of the virtues, is a subordinate question, as is the one regarding any content of bad action or a vice. To answer the ques- tion regarding the grounds of choice, we must ask sep- arately regarding the content and the form. Choice of Content. — Why is this or that special kind of good action chosen rather than another? Or, to put the question more correctly, why does one regard one course of action as the good, while to another the good content is something else? Such, of course, is the fact. A South Sea Islander's idea of what actually constitutes good is hardly the same as that of a civil- ized man. The occupant of a crowded tenement-house in a large city, surrounded from birth by almost every variety of evil, can hardly have the same ideas of what constitutes the content of good and of bad as one edu- MORAL CONTROL. 409 cated in a refined family and subject from the first to the most elevated and purifying influences. The ideal, the standard, of one varies from that of another; that is to say, the content which is conceived as coming under the form of good or bad varies. Reason for This. — In stating that this difference ex- ists we have virtually shown why it exists. The reason that one chooses one content as good while to another that same content appears as unworthy, or even posi- tively bad, is the relative limitation and extent of the circumstances of each, which causes the knowledge or conception of each to take the form that it does. The grounds for the choice of a given content in moral ac- tion are precisely what they are in prudential action. The choice in each case is limited by the man's birth, early training, surroundings, and resulting knowledge. The good to one man may be to abstain from stealing a loaf of bread, to keep himself free from the influ- ences of intoxicating liquors; to another man it will be to devote his life to the elevation of humanity through great self-sacrifice. Each comes under the f paid, to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price. _ i 1 A X 0° ■ * 8 I A ,\\ V '^ ^ Pi A * v ^. ^ v / ■ \ & % ^ ^ llt < ^ '%. : 'V s * *" ,0o <% t>%* ? .' * '■#•.